#I listened to elope after a long time and lost my mind all over again so. yeah | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

likeshipsonthesea · 3 years

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mianmian gets to the lan sect lectures, discovers very quickly that every one of her peers has decided to use this time to figure out how quickly they can get into bed with someone of the opposite sex, and decides almost immediately that she has to pick a suitably unattainable guy to have a crush on.

the thing is, mianmian is lanling jin’s head disciple. she is capable, intelligent, and very very gay. the last of these things she isn’t exactly keen on telling people yet for a variety of reasons up to and including jin zixuan will be so awkward and stubbornly supportive about it and she doesn’t know how to deal with that yet

so when her friends giggle over the other young masters and finally turn to mianmian-- who’s trying to memorize at least some of the fifty-thousand rules before their quiz tomorrow--and they ask her, “who do you like, mianmian?” she says the name that she carefully picked out of a handful of options.

“lan-er-gongzi,” she says, without looking up from her textbook, and she assumes that will be the end of it.

lan wangji is both incredibly attractive and unrelentingly resistant to all attempts to flirt with him. she, like half the other female cultivators, can moon over him (or pretend to moon over him) all they want and nothing will come of it. it’s perfect. she’s a genius. the worst she’ll have to do now is pretend to be infatuated with him when her friends start gossiping. it’s fool proof.

spoiler: it’s not

it’s not, no, because her friends are horrible and immediately start gossiping about it to everyone, and usually mianmian wouldn’t care but then jin zixuan finds out. jin zixuan, whose marriage complex is being brought to center stage with the forced proximity to his bride-to-be. jin zixuan, who for some reason decided he has to live his stolen crush-addled youth vicariously through his only real friend that isn’t related to him. jin zixuan, who for some godforsaken reason takes it upon himself to contrive situations for mianmian and lan wangji to be alone together incessantly.

it unfortunately takes mianmian longer than she would like to figure out what’s happening. she’d give herself a break for it-- she was being responsible and studying, thank you very much-- but she doesn’t have much sympathy for her own stupidity seeing as she’s currently locked in a section of the lan library with the second jade of lan

and suddenly, suddenly she’s just so fucking tired. of studying, yeah, the tests here are brutal and there’s no one to bribe to make sure she doesn’t lose points on stupid things, but also tired of lying to the people she loves and tired of training this hard and being an amazing cultivator only for people to care more about her eventual marriage-- to a man of all things!-- and also, let’s be real here, she’s been in lectures with beautiful capable intelligent women for like months and she’s losing her gay ass mind

and so maybe, possibly, as she’s locked in a library with a clearly confused and annoyed second jade of lan she kind of, momentarily, loses it and rants all of this at his steadily widening eyes

at the end of it, she realizes with no small amount of panic that she’s just confessed not only her attraction to women but the fact that she’s been letting wen qing’s ears of all things distract her from her studies. if anything, she’s sure lan wangji will fault her for inattention

but the second jade of lan, after a drawn-out moment filled only with mianmian’s labored breathing and rising panic, simply says, “i understand.”

mianmian stops. she squints. she tilts her head. she squints some more. lan wangji’s ears go pink and just like that she realizes -- “you’re a cut-sleeve.”

lan wangji’s ears go even pinker. he doesn’t nod, or agree, or outwardly react in any way, but mianmian is a capable, intelligent cultivator, and she’s sure of it.

mianmian sighs with a relief she didn’t know she could feel. “thank the gods.”

lan wangji doesn’t seem to know what to make of this response, or mianmian’s increasingly frequent trips to the library following their conversation, or mianmian’s staunch determination to befriend the guy, but that’s alright. mianmian is old hat at befriending awkward sect heirs by this point.

it’s not like lan wangji expressed any desire for her friendship, but the prospect of not being the only one with absolutely no interest in the straight shenanigans happening at gusu lan summer camp is enough to let mianmian ignore his obvious confusion. lan wangji is a great listener and only sometimes blushes when mianmian waxes poetic about the beautiful women she’s forced to surround herself with every day

“no but you don’t understand,” mianmian insists, alone in the library with lan wangji, “jiang-guniang asked me to help her with a sword form. i put my hands on her waist. i said something idiotic bc she was so pretty and right there and then she laughed. lan wangji. i’m in love.”

“yesterday you were in love with wen-guniang,” lan wangji says as he impassively turns a page in his book. “has this changed?”

“no, i’m in love with both of them. all of them. lan wangji. they’re all so pretty all the time. it’s horrible.”

lan wangji presses his lips into a firmer line, which mianmian’s come to understand means he’s repressing a smile. “i’m sorry to hear it brings luo-guniang such trouble.”

mianmian groans, fairly undignified, but that’s a lost cause with lan wangji at this point anyway. “i swear, if jin zixuan says one more bad thing about her i’m going to punch him and marry her myself.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” which mianmian takes to mean that he supports her in this line of thinking, which she finds both quite sweet and ridiculously funny.

grinning, she teases, “lan-er-gongzi, if i do end up marrying jiang-guniang, will you bear witness to our elopement?”

lan wangji’s lips press again, this time in the way that means he’s repressing a frown. “jiang-guniang’s brothers wouldn’t allow for an elopement,” he says.

mianmian huffs. “as if yunmeng or lanling will deign to host our wedding.”

lan wangji appears to ponder this for a moment before he says, “gusu will host it,” and it’s at that moment that mianmian realizes she’s actually gone and fucking befriended the second jade of lan.

what is her life.

of course, it’s not long after that that she goes to find jin zixuan and explain that she can’t make their weekly sparring match today because she has plans with lan wangji (jiang yanli tenderly brushed some of mianmian’s hair away from her forehead while they were working on sword forms and if mianmian doesn’t tell someone about it she’s literally going to explode) and she’s trying to be as polite as possible only for jin zixuan to scoff and pout (”i don’t pout”) and say, “i never took you for one of those women who throw themselves so wantonly at a man”

it’s only for having been friends with this absolutely horrible communicator for most of her life that she doesn’t immediately punch him in the face. “what did you just say to me,” she demands, but jin zixuan just sets his jaw and looks away, flushing down his neck in the way his mother describes as unbecoming and--

and mianmian suddenly realizes that her ridiculous best friend is jealous of lan wangji.

(in a friend way, of course, he’s like her brother, the one time his mother implied that he ought not get too close to women in case it jeopardizes his betrothal to jiang yanli, he insisted he didn’t have any female friends repeatedly as his mother delicately danced around outright saying mianmian’s name until finally she broke and jin zixuan was basically like huh?? mianmian doesn’t count?? she made me eat dirt like six times when we were kids)

the sheer ridiculousness of jin zixuan, to set her up with a guy and then get jealous when she spends all her time with him

and fuck her, but she loves her stupid awkward ridiculous sect heir best friend and she doesn’t want him to think she’s gone and left him for someone else (gods know jin zixuan’s loyalty complex rivals his marriage one (on second thought the two might be connected)) and so, after making a few quick decisions, mianmian grabs her stupid best friend by the wrist and pulls him to the library

he protests all the way there, but he’s been letting her drag him wherever she wants since they were five and it isn’t as if he’s going to break the pattern now. she drags him to the library and sits him down across a startled lan wangji and then finally breaks and gushes about jiang-guniang’s fingertips brushing her forehead and doesn’t look at jin zixuan once the whole time

lan wangji, on the other hand, sends jin zixuan frequent glances, as if worried on mianmian’s behalf, which is super sweet and also how the fuck did mianmian get two awkward sect heirs to care about her platonically wtf. she spares a thought for her poor auntie, who would’ve loved to have a sect heir care about her niece in much less platonic ways.

at the end of mianmian’s rant, jin zixuan is blinking quite a lot. “you like women?” he asks. he’s always been a bit slow on the uptake. mianmian nods. “you like jiang-guniang?”

mianmian shrugs. “more or less. she’s just really pretty and i’m dying about it. it’s fine.”

lan wangji says, “mn,” sympathetically and jin zixuan continues to gape.

mianmian winces. “you’re not going to be weird about this, are you?”

jin zixuan shakes his head quickly. “no, no-- of course not, i--you know that i--you’re my best friend, i don’t care--what does it matter to me, who you want to--to touch your hair.”

it’s probably the most awkward sentence he’s said to her in years, but possibly more articulate than she’d been expecting. it makes her tear up regardless and she punches him in the shoulder to hide it, and that’s basically how the three of them start hanging out in the library nearly every day after lecture.

sometimes they go to the sparring ground, bc who’s better sparring practice than the second jade of lan? and sometimes (once or twice) mianmian manages to convince lan wangji to join her and jin zixuan for lunch in caiyi town when they don’t have lecture, but mostly they meet in a secluded part of the library where mianmian can rant about how pretty all the women at lectures are, jin zixuan can turn pink whenever she mentions jiang-guniang, and lan wangji can “mn” and nod sympathetically at all the right parts

and mianmian thinks that’s going to be the end of it, they’re just going to be friends now and everything else will move on as usual, bc by some ridiculous trick of fate lan wangji and jin zixuan seem to like each other. which makes sense in hindsight bc they’re both awkward sect heirs who care about cultivation and people a lot even if they’re not great at showing it

(and he’d never say it but mianmian thinks jin zixuan’s easy acceptance of her liking women is probably the first time lan wangji’s ever seen someone accept that kind of thing before (maybe, possibly, other than his brother, lan xichen seems really cool, even if he does smile kind of intensely at mianmian whenever he happens upon her hanging out with his little brother.))

so they’re friends, they’re unexpected friends, and sometimes lan wangji even makes jokes in that dry deadpan way of his and sometimes jin zixuan doesn’t completely trip over his own words and manages to act like a normal human being and mianmian gets two idiots to care about and a perfect place to vent her womanly frustrations, and she thinks that’s the end of it and then wei wuxian accosts her after lectures one day

“do you like lan zhan?” he asks accusingly, eyes narrowed to slits. “what am i even asking, of course you like lan zhan, but do you like-like him?”

mianmian thinks sadly to herself that she’s much too into women to be dealing with all these men’s emotional problems. “lan wangji is my friend,” she says, carefully sidestepping wei wuxian, who continues to squint at her suspiciously. really, he’d been amusing when he flirted with her, but this? this is just ridiculous.

“does he know that?” wei wuxian asks. “because if he doesn’t, that’s just leading him on, and it’s really not nice to--”

“lan wangji knows we’re friends,” she says, trying to enunciate to get her point across clearly. “you can ask him, if you don’t believe me.”

wei wuxian squints a moment longer before he turns and flounces off. mianmian thinks this is the end of it until she’s accosted again after dinner with, “he said you were friends!”

for some reason, wei wuxian seems even more troubled by this than earlier. mianmian tries to suppress her eyeroll. “i told you he would?”

“but how,” wei wuxian says, suddenly whining. “i’ve been trying to be his friend for months and he refuses to acknowledge me.”

oh, mianmian realizes with a quickly dawning horror. she and lan wangji are not the only cut-sleeves at cloud recesses this summer. (she has suspicions, of course, but no confirmations on any of the others, but this. wow.)

she also realizes, decides really, that she has enough repressed sect heirs in her life and she cannot deal with wei wuxian’s cut-sleeve crisis or his evidently large attachment to lan wangji right now. she turns decisively and walks the fuck away. not her problem.

the lectures end eventually, of course, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to lanling with a horde of golden robed disciples, freshly deflowered and not all together more learned. it’s what, she thinks grimly, their sect leader would want.

the first few weeks go by and she realizes that she’s missed unloading about her frequent and fast falling-in-loves. jin zixuan just doesn’t sympathize right, bless him, and so mianmian takes to writing letters. she sends two without receiving a reply and just starts to write the third when a letter with the gusu symbol is delivered to her room.

she’s almost expecting to find a single mn written on the page-- she would’ve been delighted with just that, actually, the sheer hilarity of such a thing-- but instead she finds several pages filled with lan wangji’s perfect calligraphy.

it’s more than he’s ever spoken out loud, but it seems that propriety dictated that he return mianmian’s extensive letter with one of his own and he’s done so admirably. he responds to the events mianmian detailed in her letters-- most succinctly summarized as, woman are gorgeous and i’m dying-- and then writes about his own life in cloud recesses. apparently, he went on a little night hunt with wei wuxian and also nie huaisang and jiang cheng were involved? seriously, mianmian misses out on all the fun.

he’s also apparently taken in some rabbits, which mianmian immediately decides she needs to see. lan wangji, sitting prim and proper, with a bunch of rabbits in his lap? amazing. wei wuxian would die on sight, she’s sure of it.

he also ends his letter with a warning about qishan wen that has mianmian frowning. she takes it to jin zixuan who reads the paragraph and frowns. “i’ll talk to my father about it,” he says, which she can tell by his hunched shoulders he doesn’t expect to do much.

“talk to your father’s general too,” she suggests, because that man at least thinks with his head and not his dick.

jin zixuan nods but doesn’t hand back the letter. he skims it instead with a barely concealed surprise at lan wangji’s previously hidden expansive vocabulary. mianmian snorts and grabs the letter back. “you can write to him yourself, you know.”

jin zixuan flushes down his neck. “i know!” he insists and then turns and runs away because he’s a coward. mianmian shakes her head, smiling. what an idiot.

still, another week goes by and a letter arrives from gusu and, when mianmian takes it, assuming it’s for her, she finds it addressed to jin zixuan in lan wangji’s impeccable calligraphy and she grins to herself like an idiot. look at jin zixuan, making friends

(she suddenly understands why lan xichen gave her all those intense smiles during the lan lectures)

they go on in this way, writing letters to lan wangji from lanling. sometimes mianmian steals jin zixuan’s letters before he sends them so she can squeeze in some ranting in the post script without wasting a whole second thing of paper, and lan wangji replies dutifully, more verbose than he ever was in person, and it’s nice okay, like. she and jin zixuan have been best friends since they were kids but neither of them has ever been any good at listening and lan wangji is just so honest and earnest in everything, like they didn’t realize that people outside of lanling were actually not always plotting your downfall??? who woulda thunk

and then of course the wens go and ruin everything. they go to the wen lectures bc jin guangshan doesn’t want to “anger our trading partner” like the guy isn’t obviously going to burn carp tower to the ground the first chance he gets, and mostly mianmian and jin zixuan are just vaguely annoyed and put out about it

then lan wangji shows up with a broken leg and a burned sect and they are ready to murder some dudes

after years of breaking in and out of carp tower she and jin zixuan are old hats at this breaking and entering stuff and they manage to sneak into lan wangji’s guest quarters and tend to his wounds, ignoring all his silent glares and ranting furiously about how they’re going to murder wen chao by making him choke on his own dick (mianmian) and how they’re going to war with the wen sect even if he has to threaten his father with acknowledging all of his bastards as proper siblings in public to do it (jin zixuan)

lan wangji just says “mn” and makes various muted, distressed expressions, but mianmian thinks he’s touched.

“are your brother and uncle alright?” she asks, when she’s set his broken leg and forced pain medication down his throat.

“brother escaped with our sacred texts,” lan wangji says. “uncle is... unwell.”

mianmian knows lan wangji hates touch but the way he says it, with this horrible little frown, emoting more than she’s ever seen him, his barely suppressed anger and grief literally making his hands shake into fists, mianmian can’t help it, she hugs him. “we’ll make them pay,” she swears into his shoulder, ruining the lines of his robes with how she clutches at them. “i promise you.”

jin zixuan awkwardly pats lan wangji’s shoulder, which is a lot for him and mianmian spares a moment to be proud of his growth.

unfortunately, wen chao seems to delight in torturing lan wangji on his injured leg and lan wangji refuses to show weakness, which both impresses mianmian and pisses her the fuck off. she approaches wen qing (and her still gorgeous ears, sigh) and asks her to tend to lan wangji, since she’s like actually a doctor. wen qing does bc she’s beautiful, intelligent, and kind and mianmian spends most of that night sighing deeply as she relates this to a significantly drugged lan wangji

the cave of the xuanwu goes about the same as you’d expect. wei wuxian saving her from getting her face branded off is pretty rad of him, though he could’ve just like knocked the brand away instead of throwing himself in front of it but whatever, you do you boo. when lan wangji gets left behind the two of them don’t even have to wait for jiang cheng to grumble and ask for their help, they’re already on their way to carp tower for an army, thank you very much

when they rescue wei wuxian and lan wangji and lan wangji immediately turns to walk back to cloud recesses on a broken leg mianmian says, “fuck no, that’s not happening, you’re getting medical attention and then someone will fly you back home, okay, wtf wangji, sit down.”

and lan wangji is a stubborn bitch so obvs he’s like no but he’s also severely starved, dehydrated, and injured, so it’s not like he can just shake off mianmian holding him down and this goes on long enough for wei wuxian to wake up and see mianmian touching lan wangji, and something in his poor little brain just like breaks and he demands says, “lan zhan, come back to lotus pier with us.”

his argument, as he explains it, is that lotus pier is closer (it’s not; they’re just as close to carp tower as lotus pier) and that it’s closer to gusu for when lan wangji has to return home (it’s not; same deal) but then jiang cheng starts yelling, possibly in support possibly not mianmian’s not sure, and jin zixuan starts getting awkward, probably about the whole golden army behind him bc he’s a nerd and hates being overdressed at functions (this is basically the same thing), and mianmian looks at lan wangji and she sees--

something. she isn’t sure what exactly, but lan wangji looks at wei wuxian as he argues with his brother and he presses his lips into a thin line in the way that means he wants to smile and mianmian thinks, oh. maybe wei wuxian isn’t completely unrequited in his lan wangji obsession.

growing up in lanling, she knows how to use information to her advantage, so she immediately says, “young masters wei and jiang, what a great idea. lanling’s disciples would be pleased to accompany you and second young master lan to lotus pier to ensure everyone’s safe arrival.”

everyone splutters, indignant, confused, awkward (jiang cheng, wei wuxian, and jin zixuan, respectively) but lan wangji narrows his eyes at mianmian and doesn’t try to convince her to let him walk to gusu again, so she counts it as a win.

sect leader jiang and his wife seem surprised and annoyed, respectively, to be taking in so many guests, but sect leader jiang merely smiles pleasantly and directs them to some guest quarters and mianmian and wei wuxian ask, simultaneously, for doctors to tend to lan wangji and wei wuxian makes a face at her and mianmian sighs to herself that she really is too gay to be in the middle of his thing with lan wangji.

turns out, walking a lot and fighting a cannibalistic turtle on a broken leg doesn’t do wonders for healing. lan wangji is also the worst patient ever, he keeps trying to sneak out and get up even though word came from his brother that he’s safe and alright and that cloud recesses is starting to rebuild after qinghe nie and lanling jin came to its aid and pushed out the wen

but with the combined efforts of mianmian, jin zixuan, and wei wuxian (and even jiang yanli at one point, bc who could say no to her soup??) they manage to get lan wangji to just rest for a fucking second, really which results in the jin disciples and lan wangji staying in lotus pier for longer than anyone could’ve expected

mianmian spends most of her time (when she isn’t forcing lan wangji to just fucking stay in bed) working with the jiang disciples, practicing archery, sword forms, and mooning after all the beautiful women here.

(”lan wangji, i know she’s scary, but have you seen madam yu? she could whip me with zidian and i’d thank her” “luo-guniang, please don’t ask madam yu to whip you” OR “lan wangji, i’m almost positive madam yu’s maids are a thing, do you think they’d let me join them just like once” “luo-guniang, could you please pass me my sword?” “why” “i’d like to put myself out of this misery” OR “she made me soup. lan wangji. lan wangji, i know you’re not sleeping, wake up, you have to listen to me, this soup”)

they end up staying so long that when wang lingjiao shows up threatening a child about a kite while sect leader jiang is away, she has a lot more to deal with than madam yu. since none of this had been a “sanctioned visit” no one actually knew that there was nearly an entire troop of jin disciples staying at lotus pier, so when the wens attack they are sorely unprepared for what they’re going to face.

(and ofc lan wangji breaks out of bed heroically and keeps madam yu from whipping wei wuxian, which means they aren’t down one of their most powerful fighters and mianmian has to suffer through the moon eyes they’re making at one another in the middle of a battle no less, she knew wei wuxian had no shame but she’d been hoping lan wangji would have some)

after the wen attack (and defeat) on lotus pier and the jin’s inarguable part in it, the war starts in earnest. lan wangji, after his long rest, heals fine and goes back to gusu to help rebuild his sect and plan for war, and mianmian and jin zixuan return to carp tower to plan as well, ignoring jin guangshan and focusing instead on his general to ensure lanling supplies necessary aid in the war effort

and war is always shitty, of course, and mianmian hates watching her sect family die on the battlefield, hates waiting for updates after every battle to see who’s still alive, hates the politics and jin guangshan trying to wheedle his way out of fighting when there’s fucking lives on the line

(and she could never know, how much easier it is, with yunmeng jiang at its full strength, with one of the brightest minds of their generation there to plot and help, with two of the best fighters not out searching for someone and instead focused on the front)

they reach nightless city after months of fighting and mianmian is ready to just fucking stab wen ruohan herself when they’re suddenly trapped. blocked in on all sides by puppets, their fallen soldiers rising again to turn on them, and it--it looks like they’re gonna die.

“this sucks,” she says to lan wangji, stifling her fear and choking it down. “i never even got to kiss a girl.”

lan wangji just says “mn.”

jin zixuan, beside them, says, “i was an idiot about jiang-guniang.”

lan wangji just says, “mn.”

then wei wuxian pulls out a fucking flute and a-- floating piece of metal? the army of puppets and corpses stops advancing, held in place by-- music, apparently? and wen ruohan emerges from his lair, black energy falling off him in waves, wei wuxian the idiot flies forward to meet him, gets wen ruohan’s hand around his throat for his trouble.

lan wangji yells, “wei ying!” and mianmian thinks, really not fair that lan wangji is gonna get a boyfriend before i get a girlfriend

and then wen ruohan gets stabbed by jin zixuan’s half brother of all people. wen ruohan, along with his puppets and wei wuxian, fall to the ground. lan wangji rushes forward to catch wei wuxian, mianmian runs after him, finds herself in company with jin zixuan and jiang cheng. when they get there, wei wuxian is barely conscious but he’s-- he’s fucking grinning up at lan wangji from the cradle of lan wangji’s arms

“lan zhan,” he says, “you caught me.”

lan wangji nods, says, “mn,” which is basically his equivalent of i’ll always catch you, wei ying.

“really,” mianmian says aloud, “it’s so unfair.”

the aftermath of the war is more annoying than the war itself, what with all the politics and in-fighting and jin guangshan trying to be the biggest dick there ever was. jin guangshan tries to name himself chief cultivator in wen ruohan’s stead but nie mingjue suggests jiang fengmian instead and the lan sect backs him. jin guangshan tries to demonize the wens but at wei wuxian’s loud rebuttal and sect leader jiang’s backing (which is then backed by both gusu lan and qinghe nie) he’s once again shouted down. and then jin guangshan tries to propose to jiang-guniang for his son and the poor woman just seems so awkward and her father doesn’t seem to know what to say and--

mianmian elbows jin zixuan whose eyes widen ridiculously but, after another, harder hit, he suddenly stands. all eyes go to him, which mianmian knows he hates, but he bows to his father, then jiang yanli, and says, “jiang-guniang, forgive my father’s impertinence. this is not the time or place to be making such an offer, but he--” jin zixuan winces visibly. “--he knows of my feelings and wishes to make his foolish son happy. please, do not feel the need to respond.”

then he promptly sits down, flushing down to his neck, and mianmian shares a disbelieving glance with lan wangji from across the horrible nightless city palace room.

she’d really only meant for him to suggest jiang yanli answer privately, at a later time, but wow, jin zixuan really went for it. also no way jin guangshan knows his son has fallen in love with jiang yanli, so nice save face there. maybe he has been paying attention in all of their etiquette and political espionage classes.

jiang yanli flushes way prettier than jin zixuan and nods politely, stands and bows and thanks the jin clan for being considerate in this time of turmoil, perhaps they can discuss this matter at a later date (jin zixuan looks like he nearly faints at this, and mianmian feels vindicated in all her forlorn ranting. overreacting her ass)

when everything has been settled, wen qing has been appointed the new sect leader of qishan wen with promises to return land to those who lost it and pay reparations to the hurt civilians, as well as have the yin iron destroyed for good. during the final ceremony where all the sects have tea and pledge to be loyal to one another (until the next great war, of course) mianmian leans close to lan wangji and sighs, “her ears look even lovelier with her hair tied back by her new sect leader hairpiece.”

lan wangji says “mn” because he’s a cut sleeve in love with wei wuxian and has nothing even closely resembling taste.

mianmian, on her own, decides to make them both happy. before the jin clan departs from nightless city, she goes up to wei wuxian and asks for a moment of his time. wei wuxian seems confused but follows and, once they’re alone, he says, “mianmian, are you about to get me into bed, because i must tell you that i am a respectable young cultivator and you’ll need to marry me before--”

mianmian gives him her best unimpressed look (she’s had much practice with it, thank you jin zixuan) and cuts him off with, “i like women.”

wei wuxian’s eyes go wide. “but you and lan zhan--”

she cuts him off again before he can say something so stupid she has to stop talking to him to refrain from breaking all laws of propriety. “look,” she says, “you’re friends with wen qing. now that she’s sect leader, your brother can’t go after her. i, on the other hand, very much can. if you promise to figure out a way for me and her to get close, i’ll tell you a secret you’ll like very much.”

wei wuxian seems hesitant for all of half a second before he breaks. “tell me.”

“do you promise?”

wei wuxian raises three fingers. “promise.”

“on your sister’s life?”

begrudgingly, wei wuxian nods.

“on her soup?”

“just get on with it!”

mianmian smirks, pushes onto her tiptoes, and whispers the secret into wei wuxian’s ear. with that, she returns to the pavilion where all the sects mingle as they wait to depart, wei wuxian trailing behind her in a daze, his mouth hanging open.

lan wangji, who had been watching since mianmian asked wei wuxian for a moment to talk, frowns nearly imperceptibly. mianmian grins at him and his frown grows.

ah, whatever. she walks over to him, unbothered by the quickly growing alarm in his eyes. once next to him, she turns around to see wei wuxian staring unabashedly. her smile only widens.

“you’re going to thank me for this,” she says.

wei wuxian shakes himself, his eyes focusing, and immediately starts walking towards them.

lan wangji, voice flat but wavering, asks, “luo-guniang, what did you do?”

mianmian laughs, says, “i get to give a speech at your wedding,” and walks away just as wei wuxian reaches them.

(she does, actually, give a speech at their wedding. she may or may not be drunk during it, jin zixuan gets embarrassed for her, and she starts tearing up and has to hide it in the shoulder of her wife’s lovely well-tailored robes. it’s alright, though, wen qing doesn’t mind)

EDIT: now on AO3 with a real fic version from lwj’s pov!

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Note

Spencer and fem!reader have been together for a decade, married for five. They got married right after the Justin Mills episode, she proposed cause she almost lost him. He proposed to her once he got out and she had no idea he was going to. Anyway I got off on a tangent sorry I have ADHD. But anyway so part of Spencer was scared she’d leave him while he was in prison, which of course she never would. Not only because they have a three year old daughter. She of course doesn’t, and they’re both there to greet him when he’s released eighty-four days later. She’d been using porn to pleasure herself while he was gone, but it wasn’t nearly the same. He’s been so pent up that he jumps her the second they get back to his apartment. Needless to say, she wasn’t expecting him to be even more dominant when he got out of prison than he had started to be when he went in.

so i changed it up a bit, she hasn't had an orgasm since he left. she's so touch starved becasue she cant even hold his hand at visiting hours and they both can't help but fuck the second she tell's him they're bringing him home.

word count: 1.4K

cw: unprotected sex, dirty talk, daddy kink, dom!spencer, wall fucking, public sex, creampies, talk of pregnancy, touch starved reader and spencer, canon typical violence, references to PTSD, (I hope I got it all)

She’s anxiously tapping her foot, she’s been awake for 48 hours now, she hasn’t seen her daughter in just as long, and her husband even longer.

84 days to be exact.

She feels like she’s going to explode, she misses him so intensely and if he doesn’t come home now, she might never see him again. His mother is missing, he stabbed himself to stay safe in prison, he might not come home. again.

In the 10 years that she’s been with Spencer, he’s almost died 3 times. she thought that was the extent of her worry for her husband's safety... then he went missing, then he was arrested in Mexico and now he’s in prison fighting for his life.

She has her head in her hands, curled into a ball on the briefing room sofa, trying desperately to get her mind to stop saying he’s dead, they’re going to kill him, you’re too late. Over and over and over, the thoughts are so intense she almost doesn’t hear Emily call in and tell them to go get him.

It’s time to bring him home.

She stands faster than before. Faster than when they found the cemetery. Faster than when he almost coded in the ambulance from the anthrax he was exposed to. The only time it rivals is when the doctors came out and said they stopped the bleeding, 2 weeks before they eloped, 9 weeks into a pregnancy they were trying to hide from the team.

She always finds herself rushing to his side, fearing the worst but never has she been this close to the edge. She’s on the plane with JJ, Luke and Penelope faster than she’s ever moved before. Leg still bouncing as she sits, trying her best to stay awake, but her adrenaline is making her dizzy.

“Y/N,” JJ whispers from across the table, “he’s okay.”

“I know,” she whispers back. “That’s not why I’m nervous.”

“Why are you?”

She turns and sees Penelope and Luke arguing in the back, flirting way too much to eavesdrop, she takes a deep breath.

“I haven’t touched him in 3 months,” she whispers. “You guys may not think he’s a touchy person, but I haven’t slept. I don’t know how to sleep without him beside me. I haven’t had a real hug in forever…” a tear falls down her cheek.

She shakes her head, it’s been so unbelievably hard to be separated from him and she’s kept her composure this long. “I haven’t even been able to touch myself.”

She’s ashamed but JJ doesn’t budge, she simply tilts her head to the side in sympathy, “oh honey, he might be really distant, you have to prepare for him to continue to not touch you, or he might not leave your side and drive your crazy. I’m not sure how he’ll react but I know it’s not going to be easy.”

She nods, releasing a shaky breath and pretending that it’s not making her more anxious, “I know.” She finally breaks, sobbing and hiding her face behind her hands. “I’m sorry.”

JJ gets up and moves around the table, rubbing her hand over her back and shushing her, “you can tell him. You can go in and have a few minutes alone with him, Penelope and I will wait in the hallway.”

“I just want a hug,” she whispers, “I’m not going to fuck my husband in a prison.”

“Bundy did it,” Luke replies from the back of the plane because of course, they were listening in. “Plus, I don’t think he’s going to be comfortable enough to do that yet, I think his mind is on saving his mother.”

“Exactly,” Y/N rationalizes it, even if all she can picture is him bending her over that table that she wasn’t allowed to cross.

Sometimes the prison was so intimidating for her that she felt like she wasn’t even allowed to look at him. It was easier for her to send letters, they corresponded regularly. She knew everything, on a level the team didn’t, she knew just how hurt he was in there and she was already preparing for his recovery.

She has a binder in her purse, it has every resource he’ll ever need. Random information pamphlets for him to read on the way home and his sponsor's number. She got it from the VA, taking a special trip with Luke to ask the men there what they wish they had when they came home from Afghanistan, how they coped with PTSD and what they wish their partners knew beforehand. She’s as prepared as she could be.

But nothing prepares her for the look on his face when she opens the door. The guard steps aside and JJ closes the door as soon as Y/N is safely inside the room with him, she just cries.

“Is my mom okay?” He panic, “who’s watching Elly?”

“Spence,” she walks up to him, “we’re taking you home.”

“What?” His face drops, he turns as white as a ghost like he’s hallucinating and doesn’t believe what he hears.

She simply nods and throws her arms around him, holding him tighter than ever before, he holds her just as tight. She can’t breathe, he’s holding her too tight and then he’s picking her up and sitting her on the table, kissing her neck and down her shirt and she can’t help herself from leaning back and attempting to unbutton his jeans.

He pushes her skirt up and pulls her panties to the side, roughly kissing her as she stokes him a few times before wrapping her legs around him and bringing him inside. His beard is longer than it’s ever been, scratching at her skin as he explores her, she can’t believe they’re actually doing this but it feels too good for her to even say a single word.

“God, I’ve missed your sweet cunt,” he grunts in her ear, picking her up and turning them. He presses her against the brick wall, holding her with a strength he’s never had before, and fucking into her with intent.

“I haven’t cum in 90 days,” she says between pants, wanting him to praise her.

“So that’s why you’re such a desperate slut? I’ve made you into a whore over the last 10 years, haven’t I?”

“Yes sir,” she replies on instinct, they’ve tried having him be more dominating but it never really worked out in their favour… this however, this is more than that.

This is primal.

He bites her shoulder, over her shirt and making the fabric wet, grunting as he fucks her, he’s like an animal. It’s incredibly hot, she’s so deprived she almost cums but she holds off, “please?” She begs, wanting his permission for the first time in months.

“Please what?”

“Please can I cum?” she cries, actually tears fall down her cheeks from the frustration, months of anticipation bursting at the seams, “please, daddy?”

“Ugh,” he lays his forehead on her shoulder and fucks into her harder, rubbing her clit with his thumb. “Cum baby, come on daddy’s cock, you depraved little whore.”

She tosses her head back against the wall, it’s going to hurt later but her orgasm is so intense she barely even feels real. She’s floating there as she grips his shoulders and her legs hold him close to her. He stills as he cums, filling her up, they both sigh at the same time.

Sliding to the floor, she’s still wrapped around him, cock inside her as they hold each other. Faces buried in the other's neck, they try to come down but all they can do is run their hands over each other's bodies, appreciating the fact they’re allowed to hold one another in this stupid room again, no one is going to yell at her for holding his hand or passing him a bracelet from their kid.

They hear a knock on the window and that’s their queue to get presentable again. She feels a little gross, but this is the closest she’s felt to him in forever. Carrying a part of him inside of her was her favourite thing in the world, all she could hope for was another little one to be the glorious result of this terrible situation.

#spencer reid #spencer reid request #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #blurb

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theymetinargentina · 3 years

Text

All the Stars | H.S. Imagine

Comments and requests are always welcomed:)

Masterlist

Summary: domestic Harry, husband!Harry, all that jazz

Warnings: Smut

Word count: 1.8k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Moonlight continued to cascade on his back. He had a concentrated look on his face as he tried to get the thing i begged for to work. “I can’t get this fuckin’ thing to work.” he scroffed.

“Harry you have to twist it,” I said while looking over the manual.

“I only do this for you my darlin’,” he peered back at me and gave me the cheekiest grin.

“I know you’re only saying that to get in my pants,” I rolled my eyes

“Absolutely not,” he sounded genuinely hurt, “Plus I wouldn’t even need to do that.” he grinned.

“Is that so?” I raised my eyebrow and chuckled.

“You’d come crawling on your knees for my baby.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, hurry and finish I want to see.” I stood up and walked to where Harry continued to work at the telescope.

He stepped back, “It looks like it should work,” yet he sounded unsure.

“Alright I trust you, now shoo.”

“Hey! I built the bloody thing, I would also like to see ‘all the stars’,” he teased with a grin. I merely scoffed at him and peered through the lens, letting out a small gasp.

“It looks beautiful Harry,” I exclaimed.

I moved to allow him a glimpse of the night sky.

“Fuckin’ hell, you can see everything,” he squited and hunched over the telescope while I hugged him from behind.

“We should get inside and get the table set for dinner.” I say into his back.

A few friends were coming over to celebrate a recent promotion I had gotten at work. Harry was estatic and insisted we have a celebration. Which meant we now had to finish cooking and get ready for guests. Something Harry wasn’t particularly fond of when having guest over.

“Just a minute, I wanna stay outside with you for a bit.” He hums. It was dark and there was a slight nip to the air but our warmth combined was enough for us.

He turned around and returned the hug. His warmth enveloping me whole. My check to his chest, I could hear and feel his heart beating. Even after all this years, through every argument, I can’t believe the amount of love I have for this man. Everything he does amazes me, the kindness and gentleness he has never stops surprising me. I truly don’t think he understands how big of a gift he is the world. How in awe we- his family, friends and even fans- constantly are of him. I don’t think he realizes how many people he has, and continues, to save. The fact that he does it all without asking anything in return for himself, somehow makes him so much admirable. ———————————————————— “I’ll take the plate, don’t worry about it,” I say as I grab his plate and take it to the sink. Not before he sneaks a slap to my ass.

When I turn to look at him, he has the cheekiest grin ever and giggles like a teenage boy.

I can’t help the smile that makes it’s way onto my face.

“I couldn’t help myself,” he grins, “especially not when you’re wearing a skirt that short.”

“Don’t slut shame me, you asshole,” I snap back playfully

“Baby I want you to dress slutty in front of me,” he hugs me from behind and slowly push’s his groin into my backside, “it makes my dick rock hard.”

I mhmm in acknowledgment. I decide to tease him back and slowly start to move my hips.

He groans and starts placing sloppy kisses along my neck, “babyyyy, if you keep doing that I’m gonna take you right here.”

“Do it,” I moan when he starts trailing his hand down my stomach.

Just when he’s about to reach the button of my jeans the door bell rings.

“Fuck,” he all but growls.

I laugh, “relax baby we’ll have time later.” I wink as I go to answer the door

“You absolute tease,” I hear him say.

—————————————-

We’re all three drinks in and it’s clear everyone’s starting to feel it. Harry is telling the story of the renovation we recently had done in the guest room, to which Jeff and Glenne listen to intently.

“Seriously, I’ll give you both the number to the company that did our flooring,” I say to them.

They turn their heads and smile at me, “That would be wonderful, thank you,” glenne says with a grateful smile.

Despite our time together, being around Harry’s friends never fails to make me nervous. I think a part of me is worried if they don’t like me, what Harry would do. Surely he’d pick his best friend and manager over a girl, right? My thoughts are interrupted when my close friend Mae asks Harry a question.

“Renovations in a new house, but no ring?” She has a playful tone and everyone laughs but Harry and I both look at each other slightly panicked.

It’s not that we didn’t want people to know that we had gotten married. But the constant questions and pestering became a drag to deal with. Which is why we choose to instead elope with only our familys knowledge. It was beyond lovely being able to experience the first few months of our marriage without the constant unwanted attention from everyone.

It was a secret between the two of us, something that made our love all the more special.

Harry takes a deep breath and looks over the Mae, “it’ll happen soon, don’t worry,” he grins.

“I’ve told you a thousand times Mae, we’ll go to a courthouse and that’s it,” I smile, knowing this is where we constantly lost everyone in our marriage plans.

Harry and I didn’t want the big wedding everyone dreams of. We were content with signing a paper and vowing to love each other.

“I love you both, but you kill me everytime you remind me,” Mae exclaims with a small smile.

Everyone begins chatting about weddings, in what I assume to be an attempt to change our minds.

After a few more drinks and a long discussion about what our next gathering will be focused on, our guests excuse themselves and leave one by one. ————————————— Up stairs, Harry and I began to get ready for bed. He managed to tuck himself into bed already while I wiped all my makeup off.

“I don’t know if I should keep letting my bread grow?” He wondered out loud.

“Yes!” I agreed a little too loudly, Harry’s facial hair was the source of most of our disagreements. While he preferred to stick to shaven or minimal stubble, I preferred his full grown beard.

He knowingly smirked, “I’ll keep it if it means I get to spend all day with my head between your thighs.”

“You won’t hear me complainin’ “ I mumbled.

“I’m sorry, what was that? I couldn’t hear you?” He jokingly leaned foward in an attempt to look at me.

I turned off the light and walked toward our bed. Before sit at the end of it.

While crawling, “ I said I won’t complain about you spending all day between my thighs.”

He grinned again, “is that so?”

“Yup.”

I reached my hand under the covers and began to palm him over his sweatpants. He started placing kisses along my neck and jawline. When I gave a rather hard squeeze he groaned and looked at me, “I’m gonna cum in my pants.”

“And we couldn’t possibly have that hmm?”

“Absolutely not, I want to cum in your tight cunt.”

I moaned at his words and pulled him to get out from under the covers. He pushed me onto my back and began grinding his hips on mine. I reached for the bottom of his shirt and lifted it off him. While he broke away I began to strip off my bottoms and top.

He let out a growl when he saw I wasn’t wearing a bra and immediately began sucking on the area around my nipples.

“Harry..” I moaned

“Tell me baby” he replied, “tell me what you want daddy to do?”

“I want daddy to fuck me.” I boldly said

It’s light a switch flipped in Harry and he practically tore off my lace thong.

I pulled his underwear off and his erection sprung up immediately.

I almost drooled at the sight of his red tip dripping pre cum. I laid back down while slowly pumping him.

He threw his head back and gave the most angelic moan I have ever heard. The sight of Harry completely subbmissive to my hand was quite possibly the biggest turn on.

He wasted in no time and lined himself up, kissing me roughly and slowly easing in.

“Oh fuck...” I threw my head back in pleasure.

No matter how many times we had sex, Harry’s size never failed to surprise me.

“Shit baby you’re so tight,” he bit his lip and began thrusting roughly.

Our pants and skin slapping was the only noise in the room. A noise that had become a regular occurrence.

“Harder Harry.....fuck..”

“Yeah baby? You like rough? Like it when daddy fucks you with his cock?” He smirked and picked up his pace. He trailed his hand up from my thighs and wrapped them around my throat lightly.

“Mmmm....” was all I managed to get out.

He pressed his body on top of mine and bottomed out making me moan out loudly. I raked my nails down his back, knowing the marks would be there tomorrow.

He placed a kiss below my ear sending a wave of pleasure throughout me.

“Wanna get on top and ride my cock darlin’ ?” He whispered.

I nodded feverishly and pushed him to lay on his back.

I straddled him and grabbed his length lining him up, slowly sinking down. We both dropped our heads and moaned at the feeling of him being balls deep in me.

“Fuck, baby you’re cunt feels so good.”

“Mmm you like it?” I asked

“I fuckin love it.” I began moving my hips back and forth and then bouncing up and down; trying to find a rhythm that would push us over the edge.

My thighs began to burn so I placed my chest on Harry’s and he took that as his signal to do his part. He began thrusting up into me at a merciless pace. ‘Oh fuck’ was the only words I could seemingly get out, while Harry resorted to merely grunting.

I could feel him twitching inside me and knew he was close.

I began kissing all along his jaw and whispered in his ear, “cum in me, Harry, cum in your cunt.” This was all he needed as he bottomed out and groaned loudly.

I felt his thick ropes of cum coat inside of me. This pushed me over the edge, making me twitch on top of Harry and cry out.

I felt him soften but neither of us made any move. Our breaths were slowly going back to normal.

Finally I slowly eased off of him, whimpering at the feeling of being empty.

“Fuck, y/n, what the hell was that?” He chuckled.

“It was thank you, for everything.” I smiled.

“I love you.” “I love you.”

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lorei-writes · 3 years

Text

(Not so) Infinite Bachelor State

Arthur Conan Doyle x MC Fluff

Written for: Dice be Nice Request: @saphyhowl Roll: Arthur + Arranged Marriage AU + A curse/A spell gone wrong Word Estimate: 3k

Whew, here it is!

Content Warnings: alcohol (mention)

Truthfully, there was one thing Arthur always despised about his position as the heir – there was always somebody, or even multiple somebodies, always knowing better and always thinking he owed them everything, obedience included. Perhaps if they cared enough to properly talk with him, they’d learn he never asked to be put in this position, that if it depended entirely on him, he’d chose a different life, he’d be a different person, and… Well, plenty other noble things, surely. Alas, they never seemed to be interested in the matter enough, only ever being preoccupied with how harmless or harmful his various escapades and romances – ah, the way the youth acts out, they would sigh – were to the family name. The games had to end, however.

“I am no decorative bird up to being displayed in a cage, sir, no,” Arthur exclaimed, storming out of the room. The door shut behind him violently, various relatives shaking within the constraints of their portraits covering nearly the entirety of the wall. Perhaps if he looked back, he’d feel their glares on himself, all the esteemed aunties and uncles being appalled by such treatment of the elderly, even if long dead. Arthur didn’t do it, however, all the seemingly vengeful looks being thus directed at the first brave soul willing to step out of the study, an elderly man pushing the door anxiously, as if wishing to make up for excess commotion with negative noise. “Young master, please, wait, wait!” he spoke in a hushed voice, rushing towards Arthur in an odd sort of semi-run enforced by wear of much too formal kind to easily allow for such frivolous activities. “I’ve said all I had to say, and please, do not make me repeat myself. Late mother’s bust would surely turn into an earless one if that were to be the case.” Arthur gestured angrily. “But master!” “Master? I am truly quite a powerless one!” He stopped abruptly and turned around, pointing an accusatory finger at the man. “And you did not drop me even a hint of warning, not even a word! I could have been long gone form this sorry place, could have eloped and…!” A sigh leaving his lips, Arthur shook his head and resumed walking at a much slower pace. “Young master, I am deeply sorry. Your uncles – they are quite hardy men to propose such an idea, and simple caretaker, I –” “I know, I am aware. You could do little, couldn’t you? Ahh, those bloody, money-thirsty, motherfu – !” “Young master, this is not the language I have taught you!” the man cut him off mid-word. “Mother… Lovers,” Arthur finished after a pause. “Cursed be their fate for arranging this fate, and cursed be mine!”

The front door of the mansion having seemingly materialised before them, Arthur pushed it open, fully intending to drown his sorrows in water of a rather unholy kind. At least then, to properly celebrate his last day as the bachelor, the bride already waiting somewhere in his estate.

***

For Arthur to wake up to the first lights of the day was rather unusual – for him to do so without a headache after such a night, and in his own bed? Plainly impossible. Arthur sat up abruptly, his memory hazy although in a familiar way, only the last few event being a little blurry. He sighed. The luckiest day of my life, eh?, he thought to himself, his back touching the mattress again, his head soon disappearing below the duvet.

Intending to fall asleep and perhaps even be late for his own – very unwelcome – wedding, Arthur opted to ignore the rushed steps outside of his room, being even more indifferent when the door opened and somebody stepped inside. Could it be his bride? Ah, heavens, as if he cared. She could be the nicest woman in the world, but this? This felt fake, so very unlike all the stories he had read. Wasn’t he capable of finding the one on his own, when the time came? Truly, to strip him off of his agency even in that regard, what a cruel – cursed – fate… “Young master?” Arthur groaned, the servant, his old care-taker, apparently being the one sent to unearth him. He pushed himself up. “Yes?” “Your uncles wanted to exchange a few words with you.”

Somewhat surprised, Arthur dragged himself out of the bed, fully expecting to hear either one of two messages – either the lady saw him in the city and wanted to call the marriage off (meaning the family name was spoiled beyond repair and he, Arthur, was the only one to blame for such a turn of events), or they truly wanted him to know something more about the situation than “you are getting married” by itself. It is no wonder his confusion only grew, the first few words being uttered having been spoken out just the day before, the entire conversation following the very same pattern. “Dearest uncles, I do believe you take me for a fool. I did drink a little yesterday, but be not mistaken, I do recall your scheme being revealed. It should be a wedding day today, shouldn’t it?” he ground the words through his teeth. The men looked at each other, no less puzzled. “Arthur, have you drank just now? The guests only just came few hours back, it’s – ”

They didn’t get to finish, however, Arthur already storming out of the room. A cruel joke, indeed, but it was never said he had to withstand such treatment, no. Somewhat annoyed, he walked the corridors, eventually sneaking out of the dreaded estate yet once again.

Arthur woke up with a start. Somewhat confused, he looked around, the room being no other place than his very own bedroom. The door opened, the servant stepping inside. “Ah, young master, I see that you’re awake,” the man spoke, a troubled smile on his face. “Your uncles wanted to exchange a few words with you.”

***

The days stretched, each beginning in the very same fashion. The time had seemingly started chasing after its own tail, thus stopping to progress on behalf of being stuck in a loop, memories of every attempt to break it being erased from nearly every mind – at least to Arthur’s knowledge, no other person appearing to realise what was happening around. At first martyred, Arthur cursed plenty (although quietly, as not to deprive dear mother’s bust off of her ears far too many times), fully convinced it would go on for no longer than a few days, consequently only extending the duration of his personal hell. The time seemed to have a different plan, however – and when a month passed, Arthur was certain, it would not move an hour more into the future. So to say, he was locked in an infinite sort of a bachelor state, eternally stuck on repeating the last day of his freedom from dreaded arranged marriage that ultimately, was one forever of days away.

At first he spent the time leisurely, each day listening to the very same explanations patiently, then opting to play along nicely, much less desperately than previously. For all he knew, he could both party and drink with friends, falling asleep just about anywhere and waking up in his very own – very comfortable – bed. Eventually getting tired of lengthy daily lecture of his uncles, Arthur came up with ways to shorten it significantly, asking questions as to get to the very bottom of matter and be able to go on with his endeavours. Having calmed down from the initial euphoria, he returned to his ordinary life, each day thinking up stories (although not writing them down, for the manuscripts wouldn’t last), indulging in reading, and perhaps spoiling his dog with a little more attention than usually. Few skills remained completely unobtainable to him, his personal library providing at least a single lifetime worth of information… And yet, despite all the things that he had learnt, Arthur began to feel lonely, no relationships developing in any way. There was no person he could confide in, no soul who’d feel compassion to him, no partner to converse with – and to keep the conversation alive during the next day, without the need to reintroduce the topic at hand.

Somewhat lost as to what he should do, Arthur began simply walking down the corridors of his very own estate, greeting the various guests who managed to arrive for his wedding on the day that would never end. Curious to the very bone, he found himself wondering who could the dreaded bride be, his uncles still having kept the name a secret from him. A goat can die only once, he thought, climbing the staircase leading to their study, his knuckles soon knocking onto the wooden door. A voice from behind it inviting him to come in, Arthur stepped inside, a question on his lips: “Dear uncle, a certain matter skipped me during our morning talk. What exactly… Is the name of my bride?” “Well…” “Well?” he inquired, leaning closer on the dark wooden desk. “The truth is, the lady in question requested not to tell you in particular. She arrived with her entourage yesterday, it was her only request…” “Dear uncle, please, we will be married tomorrow, what’s the difference?” The man paled, his hands trembling slightly. He weaved his fingers together, soon propping his head over his knuckles. “The thing is, we do not know ourselves. Or to be more precise, we do, but all of the ladies who had arrived seem to be of the same name. And which one… Which one, you see…” Arthur opened his eyes wider, his throat and mind alike refusing to co-operate – there were simply no words to explain his state. “I see,” he uttered, turning on his heel and leaving the room behind. A curious state of affairs, he reckoned.

***

One thing his library lacked were books on magic or ancient knowledge otherwise lost to time. Given how the loop did not extend past the period of one day, he was unable to obtain anything other than wares offered in the city’s bookshop, their selection being lacking at best. Unable to break the odd curse, Arthur found himself pacing, the monotonous chatter and otherwise strangely familiar dialogue turning his personal heaven into yet another kind of hell. Perhaps he needed rest? A few months passed and Arthur began to seek a solitary state, sneaking out to be by himself whenever an opportunity arose.

One of his most treasured spots was a lone swing, hung over a tree branch by his very father when Arthur was still a little boy. How did the line survive the years? He could not know, and truthfully, cared little of it, the place being secluded enough to grant him a moment of peace. His dog sitting by the trunk, Arthur lifted his gaze, as if attempting to see through the tree crowns. “You don’t remember either, do you, Vic?” he sighed. “Although it can’t be much difference for a dog. Your days seem to be infinite either way, right?” he laughed softly. The pet rose his head. “What is it, my friend? You want me to play as well?” Vic yawned, getting up lazily as to sit before Arthur, two hopeful eyes staring at his owner lovingly. Having hoisted the animal into his lap, Arthur kicked the ground below them thus weakly propelling the swing. Absent-mindedly, he let his fingers brush through the soft fur, the wag of the tail earning Vic a little chuckle. “At the very least I’m stuck in here with you, Vic. An eternity with a dog seems much less lonely, heh…”

Too lost in his own thoughts, Arthur didn’t realise plenty things, one of them being the sun slowly sinking below the horizon – and the other one being a foreign sort of presence, a sudden inquiry startling him nearly to death. “Excuse me, have you just said ‘an eternity’?” a woman asked, leaning from behind the tree trunk. “Because, sir, you see… I seem to be stuck in an odd dream that nobody seems to be aware of.” Arthur snapped his head to look at her, their eyes locking. “Do you, by any chance… Do you wake up each day and start it in the very same manner, the very same news being revealed to you, over and over again? No matter where you fall asleep, what food you eat, what choices you make – all, everything, always the same?” he blurted out. The woman nodded in reply. “I’m Maria,” she added, extending her arm. “Arthur,” he replied, shaking her hand.

Finally, after so many days, they have met, the first breakthrough in lifting the curse having been made unknowingly.

***

To say her presence was uplifting would be an understatement, the couple growing to become friends rather fast – although it did cause few surprised glances here and there, few people wondering how two total strangers could act is if they knew each other for months on end. Each day they were asked of it, each day making up a new excuse, their explanations gradually growing more vibrant, almost detailed. As such, from a childhood friend, a long lost cousin and an apprentice he chatted with in the city few times, Maria ascended to being an orphan, estranged by her late uncles and aunts, and thus seeking support in the house of Doyle family, martyred by fate and unwelcoming humans alike. Arthur, on the other hand, evolved to don the alleged role of once met friendly, albeit unfortunate and rather superstitious, doctor-turned-writer, one who hated his very own creation beyond belief… Both introductions being lies, of course, they earned themselves pained sighs. There was little harm in it, though, wasn’t there, the memory of all other residents, of all other people, being erased with another day? Whenever they got bored, they made up new lies, all too aware that anything they’d do would be reversed. Somehow, the eternity ceased to appear merciless.

His hand holding hers, Arthur led Maria forward, careful as not to let any branches hurt her, this part of the groove still being fairly young. The setting sun finally starting to shine through the leaves, he relaxed, only the thrill of birds sounding off between the trees. A sigh of relief escaped his lungs. “Finally, some peace and quiet,” he laughed weakly, retreating his hand. “An almost married man shouldn’t do this, shouldn’t do that, I swear…” he trailed off, turning around to gaze at her. To his surprise, however, Maria stared at him intensely, her brows knitted together. “An… Almost married man?” she asked, his eyes opening wide in sudden realisation. “It’s not like this!” Arthur blurted out instantly, rising his arms in front of himself. “You see, tomorrow was to be my wedding, and today – or well, a couple hundred todays back – I was informed about it.” Maria shook her head in disbelief. “It’s not like this, I swear! It was arranged behind my back!” he exclaimed, her expression softening slightly. “I didn’t have a single say,” he sighed. “I cannot even find my bride, although she’s in this estate. Can you believe? She took a couple other girls by the same name, and my uncles – ” Arthur stopped abruptly, her arms shaking as she laughed, deeply and abundantly so, eventually even needing to rest her back against the tree as not to fall. “What’s so hilarious?” “You are!” she answered, few tears escaping her eyes. Maria brushed them off with the top of her hand. “And you didn’t tell me all this time? It could have been a clue to breaking this curse!” Arthur averted his gaze – and ever so observant, she followed him, eventually going even as far as to lean down and stare at him from below, a smile never leaving her lips. “Or… Perhaps there was some reason for this state of affairs?” she prompted giddily, already half-knowing the answer. His hand on the nape of his neck, a faint blush came onto his cheeks. “Perhaps, indeed.” “And what reason was it?” Maria asked, straightening her back a little. “I believe I’ve given you more than enough clues.” “I want to hear you say it.”

Wind played in the tree crowns, the sun hanging dangerously low. “Perhaps… I might have started to think I wouldn’t mind spending this eternity with you, Maria,” he mumbled, his head beginning to spin.

Arthur woke up in his very own bed, his ears ringing. Of course, he should have known better - yet, it was too late for it. Still somewhat drowsy, he got up and began to hastily dress himself, fully aware that Maria was somewhere in the mansion, in the very same state. He confessed – and he would get to answer in return? Unthinkable! He needed to find out soon. The door to his room opened, the very same old servant peaking inside. “Young master?” the man mused, visibly surprised. “Your uncles wanted to excha –” “Yes, yes, a few words, a wedding, yada, yada,” Arthur cut him off, frantically buttoning up a mere minimum appropriate amount of buttons of his shirt. He stormed out of the room. “Young master! The wedding! It is today!” the servant shouted after him, but to no avail, Arthur being already far away, completely unable to think of anything but her.

As embarrassing as it was, it dawned on him he never once in the many months that had passed asked where Maria lived, her whereabout thus being a mystery to him. In any other case, he’d ask Vic for assistance, her scent usually having stuck to his clothes by the end of the day… In such a case, however, he was lost, and lost he rushed through the mansion, no staff being able to tell him where his particular Maria could be. Lacking any other clue, he stepped out into the courtyard, planning to spend even the entire day at the swing where they met. “Arthur!” He turned around – and there she was, running down the stairs extending from the balcony above, dressed still in her nightgown, her hair in utter disarray… Although he couldn’t help thinking it was lovely, no less. Maria showing no intention of slowing down, he opened his arms, the woman throwing herself into them. They tumbled to the ground, and he barely managed to catch a breath, the one he loved sealing his lips with hers in a rushed sort of kiss. Too little, too slow, too sweet, Arthur reckoned as they parted, his hand stroking her back lovingly. Their foreheads touching, he felt her fingers toy with the very top button of his shirt, his mind finding it less unusual than it should, perhaps, the notion that it would be all forgotten come morning still residing within his thoughts…

“Maria!” somebody called from the balcony. They froze. “Wait until the evening, for the love of god! You’re getting married to this man today! At least get a room!” The couple looked at each other in disbelief. “Today?!” they asked at the same time. “Today!” the servant exclaimed, finally catching up to Arthur. Wheezing heavily, he leaned on the door, sweat having come over his forehead. “The venue… Your uncles wanted to… Discuss… The venue… Last… Preparations…” he forced out of himself, yet was forgotten again, Arthur staring at Maria. “So you kept some secrets as well?” he teased, his bride laughing. “Partially. I did not know which Maria was to be married.”

Tag List: @cheese-ception , @kisara-16, @nad-zeta, @rikumorimachisgirl @bestbryn , @ichigoamamiya If you want to be tagged for my works, please, do let me know :D Please, specify fandoms as well.

#arthur conan doyle #ikevam arthur #ikemen vampire arthur #ikevam #ikemen vampire #ikemen series #my ff #my writing

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let-me-write-shit · 4 years

Note

I love your writing! Can you please write a piece where y/n has been a friend of him for years (all one d years too) and she is famous as well (kinda maggie rogers vibe) they write songs together etc. After the heartbreak from Camille she is always there for him and they realise that they have always been in love with each other, a bit of angst ofc 😂 Thank you very much!! 😍😍

A/N: Thanks so much for the request and the kind messages when I was sick, @irelilien. I loved writing this. I know it’s probably not EXACTLY what you were thinking, but I hope you like it!! <3 <3 <3

Warning: ANGSTY ANGST ANGST!!!

Word Count: 3,961

Requests are OPEN! If you have a request for a blurb, oneshot, imagine, whatever, Send me a message HERE!!!

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Started Off As Friends

“Will you relax, Harry?” you laugh, scooting to the edge of the office chair where you sat, reaching over and grabbing Harry’s hands away from his face to reveal his scrunched up eyebrows and dramatic frown, something he always did when he was frustrated. You took hold of his forearms as he pouted and tugged on your arms, making the wheels of your chair roll closer to him, your knees touching and his forehead falling towards your stomach.

Honestly, he could be such a baby sometimes. But as your hand instinctively plopped onto his head, running your fingers through his curls and massaging his scalp, you couldn’t help but smile. For years it had been like this; you and Harry were inseparable since the day you met. Back then he was still in One Direction and you just helped them write songs. You were one of the youngest songwriters on the team and they were impressed by it. Eventually, you began to release some of your own work, and when Harry went solo he often called on you to help with some of his songs, most of which always ended up on an album or being released.

You were there when his fame kicked off. He was there for you when you lost a family member. The two of you hardly even had so much of a fight, more like little bickers here and there. You were there through all of the One Direction drama including when you and Niall had a brief but scandalous (and absolutely not true) rumor spread that you were secretly dating and eloped, something Harry would cry laugh over whenever it was brought up. After all, if there would be any rumors of secret relationships between you and a member of One Direction, it would be with Harry. You were the closest out of all of them. You two had been through a lot in your friendship. More than most. And that included heartbreak.

You’d met practically every girlfriend he’d ever had. You knew details of his relationships that you really didn’t need to know about. And you’d been the subject of many jealous fights. But he’d always have your back. Until Camille.

Everything started great. You thought things had been going so well between them and Camille seemed to really like you. Oftentimes you’d get together just the two of you and have a girl’s night. But everything changed the night of one of your concerts. You were playing in London and the couple came to support. Throughout the night they had a lot to drink and each time you looked down things seemed to get increasingly more tense between the pair. Towards the end, it looked like a full-blown argument had ensued and they both stormed out of the arena. You assumed they were just going to talk it out and would meet you backstage afterward. You assumed Harry would fill you in on all the details later. But hours had passed and everyone had already backed up to leave. It wasn’t like Harry to just leave without saying anything. You called and texted but got no response. Not until the next day.

‘So sorry for leaving like that. We’ll talk later. -H’

But you never did. He practically ghosted you, only getting brief, cryptic texts or calls at random points in the day. The emotional circle-jerk you went through was next-level. Confusion, anger, sadness, indifference, and back to confusion. It was a never-ending cycle. You had later come to find that he only talked to you when Camille wasn’t around. And if she found out you were in communication, another argument would ensue and you’d hear about it whenever Harry called to complain. That’s all it was; a few calls and texts to whine about his relationship until the texts and calls stopped altogether. You hadn’t even seen his face for nearly seven months. For the longest time, you wanted to cry. You felt betrayed.

And finally, a month ago, after seven months of waiting, you had decided you were going to let him go and stop waiting around for him. But, when your phone rang at 11 PM that same night, your toughness crumbled to the ground. You had half a mind to yell and let it all out, or to just hang up, but you couldn’t. Not to him. Not when his heart was breaking. Instead, you invited him over. You must have drunk two whole bottles of wine by yourself, listening as Harry cried about his breakup and catching you up on all the issues they had. And you helped him through it.

For weeks he stayed with you so he didn’t have to be alone. You’d distract him with movies and games, stay up all hours of the night listening and reassuring him. You’d cry with him, laugh with him, and eventually, you’d help him channel his feelings into music. The two of you had written more songs than you can count about Camille and he finally had a sense of what he wanted his new album to sound like, picking a selection of songs on a demo and bringing it over to get your thoughts.

Listening to it brought on its own type of heartache for you. You remembered writing some of those lyrics with him. You remembered how broken you felt having to act like nothing was wrong and you were just happy to have him back. But the truth was, you were still hurt. You never did find out why he left so suddenly in the first place and coming back to you after all that time felt more like a slap in the face than anything. He knew you’d welcome him back with open arms He knew he could take advantage of your friendship because he knew how much he meant to you. Or, at least, he had an idea.

By the end of the demo, Harry looked so unsure that you were almost certain he’d start to freak out and second-guess himself. He rolled his head on your lap so that his cheek was against your thigh and groaned, “It feels like it’s missing something. Maybe I should have added ‘She’s Flames’.”

You shook your head as he sat up, “No. It’s perfect.”

“But what if-”

“No,” you cut him off, looking deeply into his eyes, “I wouldn’t change a thing. Not a single word, not a single piano key, not a single song, not even a single song order. Harry, it’s perfect.”

He relaxed his shoulders, letting his lips twitch upwards into a smile, and when he finally spoke, he took her hands in his again and said, “What would I do without you?”

You shrugged your shoulders, slipping your hands back and spinning in your chair to face your computer again, clicking away at the screen and layering instrumentals on your own music you were working on before he came over. Having a little makeshift studio in your flat helped when you couldn’t get in any time at a proper studio.

“Probably sulk at your own house instead of mine,” you mumbled, trying your best to sound like you’re joking.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he whined, switching seats to a roller chair next to you.

You ignored him and continued to work while he talked beside you about possible release dates for his album, cover art, and which songs he wanted to have as his singles. You listened, adding your input where needed, as he carried on, grabbing your phone off the desk beside you and entering in your passcode. You didn’t mind, it was something the two of you always did. There was never any malice or reason behind it, it was just out of sheer boredom. You’d often scroll through each other’s social media dashboard or pictures. You had nothing to hide. Or, so you thought.

You became so hyperfocused on what you were doing that you almost didn’t hear it. It blended in with what you were working on so much that the sound of your voice singing from the speaker of the Harry held in his hands almost went unnoticed. But by the time you realized what he was listening to and snapped your attention to him, the damage was already done.

The knife of insight tore its way in me

A brash collision without sympathy

And maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, I’ll come out

Maybe we could take some time,

Unwind, figure out

When the knife of insight tore its way in me

Hit me up if you’re feeling down

Give a little, oh we’ll figure this out

Keep me up, keep my mind around

After dark, after light

Let it go if you want get loud

Make a little fuss, oh its all allowed

Beautiful how it all pours out

After dark, after light

Oh the knife of insight brought me to my knees

Broke me down and taught me how to see

And I know and I know and I know

That maybe we should take some time

Get this out, make this right

Maybe when the sun goes down I’ll come round, tell you all about

When the knife of insight brought me to my knees …..

You were at a loss for words, caught off-guard by him finding that voice note of a song you had recorded late one night three months ago. You could hear the wooshing of cars passing by in the background, remembering you recorded it on a drive to meet up with friends for dinner and didn’t want to forget the wave of creativity. Funny thing was, you completely forgot all about it.

You searched his face, hoping he didn’t understand what you were singing about But Harry wasn’t stupid. He’s worked with you long enough now to know your writing style. And with one look at the time stamp of the recording, he could tell this was written in the thick of when he had stopped seeing you.

“What’s this?” he asked softly, looking up at you.

He knew, he just wanted to hear you say it. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of an explanation, though. For weeks you had thought about what to say or how to confront him for what he did. But confrontation was never your strong suit and all the rehearsed speech had suddenly vanished from your memory.

Quickly, you grabbed your phone out of his hand and shut the music off, “Just something I was working on. Forgot it was still on there.”

He watched as your body tensed, hastily shoving your phone in your pocket. He could see right through your nonchalant attitude and he pressed again, “Is it about me?”

“Harry,” you breathed, forcing a laugh. But your refusal to look him in the eyes was your tell.

“It is, isn’t it?” His question sounded more like an answer, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“How you felt,” he turned your chair so that you were forced to face him and you looked nervously up at him through your eyelashes, his expression sincere, “Obviously you were hurt about whatever I did.”

Your mouth fell and he seemed to realize almost instantly that he had a poor choice of words. But, before either of you could say anything, Harry’s phone began to ring on the coffee table, catching both of your attention. And by a cruel coincidence, you saw that it was Camille calling him. His eyes widened and hastily silenced his phone, but the damage was done. You let out an incredulous laugh and stood up.

“It’s getting late. I think it’s time for you to leave,” you said firmly, avoiding his gaze.

You heard him stutter. He wasn’t used to you being stern with him. “What? Why? No, please, let’s talk about this.”

“Talk?” You laughed angrily, “You want to talk? Now? That’s rich coming from you! Alright, Harry, let’s talk, then,” your words were like ice and your heart pounded, finally getting the courage to look at him as you let it all out, “Ten years you’ve been one of my best friends. I’ve done so much for you. I’ve put up with a lot being your friend. All the backlash and drama and spite from your horrible girlfriends. But you always had my back Until her,” you motioned towards his phone.

His eyes fluttered, listening to you get angry. It was a side of you that rarely showed. And when your voice began to crack, he gulped.

You continued, “I was always nice to her. Always. Until one random day, she decided to hate me for no reason. And what did you do? Nothing! You ran after her like a lost puppy and avoided me for almost a year!”

“I didn’t avoid you!” Harry shot back, defensively.

“You didn’t avoid me?” you laughed in a hiss. “Harry, you dodged all of my calls and texts! I never saw you! And when we did talk, the Queen herself couldn’t know about it or you’d have another fight!”

“Don’t call her that. That’s not fair,” he pleaded.

“You want to talk about fair? The way you treated me wasn’t fair! All I was to you in those seven months was someone to complain to, but only if I was kept a secret!”

“That’s not true. Besides, it’s not like you ever complained at the time! You should have said something!”

“I shouldn’t have had to! You’ve always had my back and ended things with other girlfriends for a lot less!”

“I can’t keep ending relationships just because you don’t like them!”

“I never asked you to!” your voices were getting louder now, almost certain that if someone was passing by your open window, they’d be able to hear every word. “Never once did I ask you to break up with anyone or even hint at disliking them. You always did that on your own!”

“Because you’re my friend!” he shot back, his eyebrows furrowing and the crinkles by his eyes more prominent. Your back and forth was quicker now. Both of you speaking even faster.

“Then why did it change with her? Friends don’t treat friends as a last resort!”

“How did I treat you like a last resort? Because of a few missed calls and canceled plans? I was busy!”

“For seven months? No, you weren’t, Harry! You were a coward!”

“And you were jealous!”

“So what?” you snapped back. You could see the shock in Harry’s eyes, but you kept going, “So what if I was? It never made me treat you like dog shit on the bottom of my shoe! You ignore me for weeks at a time and when I finally get a response it’s because you’re crying about another fight you had with her and how neither of you trusts each other. Did I complain once? No. I listened. I never turned my back on you because that’s what a good friend does.”

“That’s what a good friend does? So now I’m not a food friend?” Harry scoffed, “I can’t read fucking minds, Y/N! How am I supposed to know you’re upset if you don’t tell me?”

“How am I supposed to tell you if you never answer my calls?!”

“I came back!” Harry yelled, “I’ve seen you almost every day for a month! You’ve had plenty of time!”

“Did I?” you sneered, “Harry, you were heartbroken about your breakup! What would you suppose I do? Tack on some more reasons for you to feel sorry for yourself? Cry about how you were mean and broke my heart? You didn’t need me getting after you! I recorded an idea for a song on my phone, and now you’re mad because I expressed my feelings in a song that you were never meant to hear?”

“You don’t get to decide what I can and can’t handle, Y/N!”

“You think you could have handled the added guilt?” you should back, bordering the edge of condescension, “I helped you write two albums worth of breakup songs about her, Harry! I sat here for hours a day every single day for weeks helping you write lyric after lyric explaining your love for a woman that hated me!” you were on the verge of tears now. “And here I am, the idiot helping you through it, only to find out you’re still talking to her!”

“I’m not talking to her! I called to ask if I could put something in a song!” Harry shot back, “And she didn’t hate you!”

“How can you not see it?” you breathed, wiping a tear from your cheek, “I have to watch a man I care so much about going through shitty relationship after shitty relationship. And I’m here, like always, waiting for you to wake up and see that you deserve better! You can’t even admit what you did because you’re too busy defending a girl that broke your heart!”

“I’m not defending her, Y/N! I’m sorry that I hurt you, but it’s not her fault! She didn’t hate you, she was just jealous and untrusting and she had every reason to feel that way!”

Heat rose to your face and your voice got more fierce, “I always treated her with respect! And I never gave her a reason to feel that way!”

“You didn’t, but I did!”

“What does that even mean?! Why would she hate me for something I didn’t even do? That doesn’t even make any sense, Harry! You avoided me for months and you’d argue if she found out you were talking to me, and you’re saying that it had nothing to do with me?”

“No. I mean, yes. Kind of,” he started to get flustered and began talking faster, “It was my decision, not hers. And I’m not defending her. I wanted to talk to you, Y/N, but I couldn’t!”

You were getting angrier. It felt like you were going around in circles with Harry and you were frustrated that he wouldn’t give a direct answer. “Why? You keep beating around the bush instead of just giving me a reason! What possible reason could you have for dropping a friend of ten years out of nowhere? I didn’t do anything! So, why?”

“Because I accidentally told her that I’m in love with you!” he blurted out.

His voice was loud and perturbed. But as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he might have just made a huge mistake. Harry never meant to tell you. He was perfectly happy with keeping this a secret for as long as it took to get over you.

You froze, sitting backward and raising your eyebrows, mouth ajar, “You what?”

“I didn’t mean to,” he spoke quickly, trying to justify himself, “We were drunk at your concert and, I don’t know, it just kind of came out and we started arguing. I didn’t even realize what I had said until the next morning when she was still angry.”

The memories of the night of your concert came flooding back. Images of their slowly fading happy faces turned to anger and fighting started to make sense. But what he was saying didn’t. He was in love with you? Surely he didn’t mean that. He showed no inclination of romantic feelings towards you. There had to be a misunderstanding. What he meant to say was ‘he loved you like a sister’.

When you didn’t speak, he continued to try and explain himself, hurriedly speaking again; something you hardly ever saw from him. Usually he was calm and cool, even when faced with uncomfortable situations.

“I tried to tell her I didn’t mean it and I had no clue why I said that, but she didn’t believe me. She kept saying ,‘I see the way you look at her’ and ‘Everyone knows it. I’m not stupid!’. So I just kept telling her she was crazy and started talking to you less and less to prove her wrong. But she never trusted me after that. And whenever she found out I was talking to you, it gave her more reason.”

“I-” you tried to speak, but he just kept talking, more unsettled now, “I kept trying to tell myself it was nothing. But when we broke up, the first person I thought of was you. I knew you were probably angry with me, but you helped me anyway. You were there for me like you always are. And I knew that Camille was right. It was always you. And honestly, I hated you for it.”

You recoiled, surprised as he started to get more agitated. He continued, “You were there since the start of it and you made me set this impossibly high standard for my relationships! That’s why they all failed miserably! That’s why they all hated you! Because they knew they couldn’t live up to you!”

“You’re blaming me for this?” you argued back, “I didn’t make you compare anyone to me! I didn’t even know because you were too chicken shit to say anything to me!”

“I couldn’t say anything to you! You were my best friend! I didn’t want to lose you! Those few months we didn’t talk were hell! I thought about you every day! Besides, what difference would it have made if I did tell you? You can’t honestly tell me you felt the same!”

“Stop assuming you know how I feel!”

“Well, am I wrong?!” he shot back, seething.

“Yes! You’re wrong!”

There was silence, the two of you just staring at each other, faces filled with frustration. His eyes flickered across your face, looking for some kind of sign as both of your chests rose and fell. His tongue grazed his lips, wetting them from all the yelling. And like the flash of light, both of you lunged forward at each other.

The mess of hands wildly roaming each other’s bodies and tangling in each other’s hair was dizzying. Hungrily, your tongues circled as if you were starved and the only salvation left was his breath entwined with yours. You both stood, only to be pushed backward on your desk, your keyboard slipping out from under you and crashing to the floor. You could feel your back press against your monitor as you eagerly fidgeted with the buttons on Harry’s shirt and before you could undo the last one, he had already managed to undo yours, pulling it down your arms and tossing it somewhere to the side.

Harry became impatient, finally pulling away from your lips and tanking open his shirt, making the last button pop off and roll underneath the desk. You for your first good look at each other; panting, out of breath. Half-naked, you could see every tattoo on his chest that you had always longed to kiss under the dim light of your flat and the veins in his arms bulged as he gripped onto the desk underneath your thighs. His eyes looked fierce and almost rabid as he looked you up and down. There was a moment of pause and thought. Slowly the two of you cracked a smile. And the smile turned into light laughter.

“I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to do this,” Harry whispered, pressing his forehead against yours and weaving his fingers through your hair just behind your ears as the warmth of his palms lay flat against your cheek.

You smiled, closing your eyes and placing your hands over top of his, breathing in his scent as you softly spoke, “Probably just as long as I’ve waited for you to do it.” And you gently pressed your lips to his once more.

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pxjiminsi · 3 years

Text

Glass of whiskey

Synopsis: You get drunk the night before your little sister’s wedding as you dislike weddings in general due to your past, but all is about to change when you meet Yoongi at the open bar handing you a glass of whiskey.

Fic type: One Shot

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: SMUT!!! A little bit of angst

Warning: a few cuss words, blow job, cum in breasts, unprotected sex (please take care, my readers), clitplay.

Wc: 2.1k

A/n: Hi! I really enjoyed creating this one as I relate too much from the op about feeling sentimental about weddings lmao. Let me know how you feel about it!

You've always hated weddings. Always hated it. You always looked forward to it when you were a kid, wondering when it’ll be your turn, and by the time you thought it’s your turn, it blew up in your face.

Your mom was ecstatic when you finally got engaged with this doctor a year ago after dating for a year and a half. You felt like your world had finally set into place. Then a month before the wedding, your happy ending, your son of a bitch fiancé slept with one of your bridesmaids. And if you think that’s the worst part, he didn’t even have the guts to tell you himself, because he broke up with you through text. Eloping with your bridesmaid.

It’s been a year and your life has been nothing but crap. You lost your job after being depressed for so long, had to settle in a small apartment because you don’t have a job to pay dues. And your relationship with your mom fell apart when she blamed you for letting your fiancé sleep with another woman.

You’ve always sworn you’ll never attend one of these events again, that you’ll harden your heart whether it’s your baby sister who asks. But jokes on you, after 2 months of swearing, you hear your little sister’s engagement. Of course, she wanted you to be her maid of honor, she is your best friend after all. You knew how hard it is for her to ask you that, you bet that when she got engaged she’s still thinking of you. You almost ruined your relationship with her because of your depression and how you cut-off people in your life after the incident.

Now the night before the wedding, you’re getting drunk on the wine at the bar of what’s left from the rehearsal dinner, trying to write your maid-of-honor speech of how love is blah blah blah and forever blah blah. You squint your eyes shaking your head trying to figure this out. And before you know it, someone slid you a glass of whiskey. “You look like you need it,” A man with black hair wearing a white long-sleeved and fitted black jeans said, sitting 2 bar stools away from you. You squint your eyes, skeptical about the drink then looking back at him. He looks at you with those piercing cat eyes that you can’t help but feel intimidated by. He grabs your drink and takes a sip, raising his eyebrows, proving he didn’t slip anything in it.

“Thanks,” raising your glass and chugging the remaining whiskey. “I’m Yoongi,” he held his hand. “Y/n, nice to meet you,” you said, shaking his.

Few drinks in, you’re already beside his seat raving about what a drag this wedding is, not revealing that you’re the maid of honor and the one getting married is your sister. He flashed his gummy smile of his unwittingly, as he placed one of his hands in his thick thighs that you can’t help but be attracted to. You practically have to cross your legs to avoid jumping on him on that bar stool. Even if you’re both talking about different things, you connect with this guy. He has this stabbing cold stare, but when he starts to speak you can feel how soft and gentle his personality is. Especially his listening skills. Maybe because you know you’ll never see each other again after tonight, you spill your guts on him.

You spilled how your fiancé cheated on you, how you prefer white wine over red, how you hate your roommate because she keeps borrowing things from you without permission. You feel your body getting light for relieving your pent up stress and anger from the past year. He was such a great listener nodding at every story he relates to, laughing at your drunk stories, and shaking his head at your unbelievable adventures. “Thanks, you know, for listening” that’s all you can say sipping on your wine. He just shook his head with his smile, gesturing it’s okay.

“I better head up, one more drink, and I’ll pass out,” You try to hold on to the counter to push yourself up from the barstool but slides accidentally holding his thick thighs instead. He grabs you by your arm, to help you not fall. “I’m walking you to your floor, I’m going up anyways.” He drinks his remaining whiskey and gently leads you on to the elevator.

You both entered the elevator and you stood behind him on the corner. “What floor?” He asks without turning at you. “18th” he then pushes the 21st floor and the 18th. “You’re on the 21st?” you blurted out. You don’t know why you asked but it’s painfully obvious that his room is on the 21st. “Yeah, you alright?” He looks at you brushing his hair up. Tipsy as you are, you scanned his whole physique right in front of his eyes, remembering how you kept your legs crossed the entire time you’re at the bar to ignore your pulsing wet clit from his musky crisp clean scent, slightly open chest from his half unbuttoned shirt, and thick thighs almost bulging out from his pants.

And it’s not just you, you can see how he’s eyeing your exposed neck and collarbone all night down to your figure and exposed thighs from your short body-fitting dress. You flood the whole elevator with unspoken sexual tension even without looking at each other.

You snapped out of your trance when the elevator dings at your floor. You step out slowly from the elevator, wanting to see if he’ll stop you. “Nice to meet you, Yoongi” prolonging your interaction. He just slightly smiled and nodded with arms crossed, and as soon as the elevator door started to close, you placed it in your hand, shocking Yoongi. He huffs and smirked, not expecting what you did. “You’re not really going to do anything?” Silently thanking the alcohol for this sudden surge of confidence about what you are saying. “Do what?” he cockily asks “You wanna fuck me?” he continued piercing you with his dark gorgeous eyes. He caught you off guard, dumbfounded as to what answer you are going to give him. The elevator continues to ding with your hand in it.

“Do you want to fuck me?” He repeats himself with a more sultry and muggy voice changing his stance as he walks towards you. You can feel your heart beating faster and faster. Your heart jumps as the elevator dings again, but you’re even surprised as Yoongi pulls you by the waist letting the elevator door close. He pins you at the wall, his mouth on yours, a frenzied moan escapes your mouth as he pushes his tongue inside.

You pressed your body in his core arms in his neck pulling his kiss deep in you. The elevator dings at his floor. You both composed yourself for a minute, his hand in yours as he leads you to his room. He starts to kiss you again as he swipes his key card and the room to his door opens.

He gently pushes you to his bed, never removing his eyes on you and your body, as he takes off his jacket and pulls his necktie loose to the side. You pull him down by his tie kissing him deeply as he slides his right hand from your legs to your thighs to the lace of your panties. You continue to grind your remaining leg on him feeling his hard cock in his tight pants.

He started to kiss your neck, gently placing love bites to your collarbone, down to your chest, he then raised your dress while licking you from your tummy to your breasts. You can’t stop the moans escaping your mouth as you turn over. It’s your turn to push him into the bed. You take off your dress and bra leaving Yoongi biting his lower lip admiring your form. You pull his tight pants as his massive thick cock cast out of it. A small drool came out of your lips as he guided your face towards his cock and before you knew it, he was thrusting his hips with a hand on your head. You try so hard to control your gag reflex grabbing his thighs pressing little crescents, his skin begins to sting but he didn’t mind. You started to tear up as he thrust on your mouth for the last time before placing your dripping wet pussy on his cock.

He slaps your ass as you ride him with your back facing him. He guides your hips up and down fucking you vigorously with one hand rubbing your swollen clit. “Fuck, y/n, your pussy is so tight,” as he slams on you harder, feeling your lower body snapping at every thrust. Your mind goes numb hearing those words. You can feel your cum building up from your core, with legs even spreading. You help him play with your clit as you rubbed yours faster. “Oh, fuck I’m going to cum,” you scream as he places his finger from your clit to your mouth. “Cum on me, baby” Yoongi moans. Hearing his moan shot your body with arousal that radiated all over your body.

He then lays you down not removing his cock from your inside, you can hardly keep up with his pacing as you’re still too dazed from your release. As rough as he is in you, he places gentle kisses on your lips, almost reminding you that you’re more than a quick fuck. After a few more thrusts, his jaw started to clench as soft curses left his mouth. “Where do you want it, baby?” You can see sweat forming on his forehead and chest. “Anywhere” you answered panting. He gripped your ass tight as he pulled from you gripping his shaft. A few pumps in and thick spurts from his cock cover your breasts with soft grunts escaping his mouth.

You relax on the bed covering your bodies with the blanket after cleaning up. “I’m so pathetic. This is so pathetic” you cover your face with your arms. “No you’re not, you were great.” he kisses your forehead, letting you be the little spoon as you drift off to sleep.

The next morning, you see him already gone. I mean what did you expect, that you’ll wake up to his kisses or him bringing you breakfast in bed? You take a deep breath, as much as you enjoyed last night, you can’t wait to get home drunk again tonight after the wedding.

As much as you hated weddings, you didn’t mind the ceremony at all. Seeing your little sister say her vows, her friends cheering, and her getting married to the love of her life made you feel nostalgic about your childhood with her. And you feel nothing but happiness and love for her.

As the guests started to arrive at the reception hall, you went straight to the open bar waving the bartender for a glass of wine. A beautiful melody covers the reception hall as the acoustic singer started to play his guitar. His voice is so soft and sullen, mesmerizing in fact. You turn around to see who this enigmatic singer is. You can’t believe your eyes as you see Yoongi, his eyes direct in yours as if he’d seen you since you entered the room. He finishes the song never leaving your eyes, nor did you in his.

The only time you broke eye-contact is when the crowd started to clap and he started thanking them. He sang a few more songs until the emcee took over, starting the reception ceremony. He walks towards you. Your heart pounding, he looks so beautiful in his all-black suit and his piercing eyes that you don’t know, but it makes you forget your name.

He slides you a glass of whiskey and asks, “Tough wedding? You look like you need this” exposing his gummy smile. “Not so bad anymore,” you said as you took a sip of your drink.

#Yoongi smut #Min Yoongi AU #Min Yoongi Smut #Yoongi Angst #bts imagines #BTS #Kim Namjoon #Kim Seokjin #Jung Hoseok #Park Jimin #Kim Taehyung #Jeon Jungkook #Smut #Angst #Glass of Whiskey #one shot

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holycafe · 3 years

Text

Dean felt flushed and nervous as he was passed the microphone. He’d had everyone’s eyes on him all day, and that had been bad enough, but this time felt different. Because now it was time for his speech, and speaking from the heart wasn’t always something Dean was good with. And he didn’t think he’d ever so much as tried it in public before.

But he wasn't going to let that hold him back tonight. He stood there beside the three-tiered cake – which, yes, okay, Dean wasn’t a huge fan of cake really; but this one did look pretty amazing, so props there – surrounded by all of his friends and family, and cleared his throat as he began to speak.

“You know, when I proposed to Cas, we weren’t exactly looking at going the whole big family wedding and reception kind of route. But none of you would let us run off to elope in Vegas in front of an Elvis impersonator, so here we are.” That joke had the added bonus of being 100% true.

Dean thought on the moment of the proposal fondly now; it had been early in the morning, only a few days after getting Cas back from the Empty. Dean hadn’t slept much that first week. Not because he and Cas were doing it like rabbits (though, yeah, that was kind of true too), but because he was just too happy to sleep. His mind refused the shut-off.

On this particular morning, Dean had been awake for hours, just watching Cas sleep. Watching the rise and fall of his chest, listening to the heavy sighs which escaped his lips, admiring the flutter of his eyelids and the occasional curve to his lips as he dreamt. They hadn’t put a name to what they were at that point, and Cas had been okay with that, but it had been bugging Dean. So, that morning, he just lay there and struggled to figure it out. And it was a struggle. Because ‘lover’ was technically true, but it felt too flippant. ‘Partner’ was too… stale. Dean didn’t like it. However, ‘boyfriend’ seemed too juvenile, seeing everything they had been through together.

But ‘husband’… that one felt right.

So, when Cas woke up, Dean immediately got down on one knee and popped the question. And after spending another couple of hours wrapped up together, they showered, packed some clothes, and went to invite Sam, and Mary, and whoever else was around that morning, to see them get hitched.

But his brother had then quite literally stolen the keys to the Impala to keep them from leaving. He’d spent the next few hours talking them into agreeing to this instead.

“Truthfully, I’m kinda glad that Sammy put his foot down about that, though,” Dean admitted. “As hunters, we get a bit too used to operating under the radar, but some things need to be celebrated. And when you got a man like Cas under your arm… you know, he’s worth showing off.”

Dean looked at Cas and winked.

“And today’s been pretty fun, actually,” continued lightheartedly. “Even better than that time I killed Hitler.”

Everyone in the room groaned; they’d probably heard that story enough now, but Dean wasn’t done telling it so who cared?

Though, today, it didn’t bring quite the same excitement as it normally did. Today, the only story Dean actually wanted to tell, the only one to bring a flutter to his chest, was the one about him and Cas.

Dean smiled wider and turned to look at him again, at his husband.

He reached out and took Cas’ hand, pulling him closer so he could get a better look at those beautiful blue eyes. Dean would have thought that, after all the time he’d lost staring into them, he would be fed up with it by now. He wasn’t. He never would be.

“But I mean it, I’m glad to be here with you now, Cas,” Dean admitted, his eyes tracing the smile on his husband’s lips. “I’m glad that we’re celebrating this, that we’re doing it the right way. I’m glad to have you by my side, and in my arms, and tell you all the sappy shit I’ve always wanted to. Like…” Dean had to pause to take a deep breath, feeling his emotions begin to claw at his throat. But he wanted to say this. He wanted to say it all. So, he just cleared his throat and continued. “Like how I’ve been in love with you for so long, that I don’t even remember what not loving you feels like.”

That received an aww from the guests surrounding them. Though, considering pretty much everyone here was a hunter, it was mostly in jest rather than sincerity. Dean ignored it. This moment wasn’t for them.

Cas was grinning up at him, his happiness sparkling in those beautiful eyes, and Dean wanted to just lean down and kiss him.

But he wasn’t done yet.

He had one last thing to say.

“We’ve only been together for a couple of months,” Dean continued, “but it already feels like I’ve spent a lifetime with you. And I’ll gladly spend a lifetime more.”

And now they could kiss. So, they did. Dean leant over into Cas’ embrace, meeting his lips, and pulling him all the closer.

They received several wolf whistles for their efforts.

When they pulled apart again, Dean glared at his guests for the interruption, and they all just laughed.

Cas didn’t bother to pull away as he took the microphone from Dean. He kept one arm wrapped around Dean’s waist at all times and stood so close that he was practically leaning his head on Dean’s shoulder.

“I met Dean when I pulled him out of Hell,” Cas started talking, addressing the crowd. “As far as ‘meet-cutes’ go –” he emphasised the words by making quotation gestures, made more awkward as he was holding the mic and refused to pull away to talk, and Dean rolled his eyes “– I’ve been informed that’s a rather good one.”

While everyone was laughing, Dean grinned. “We’re the best damn love story ever told, man.” He said it quietly, whispered it into Cas’ ear, so close that he brushed his nose against the hairs on Cas’ head. Obviously, no one else overheard him, but it wasn’t meant for them, only for Cas.

Cas grinned as he continued. “Before I first spoke to Dean, I spent much of my time feeling lost. I was… a good soldier, but not much more. I had brothers and sisters, I had a father, but I didn’t have a family until I met you,” Cas said, turning to face him, and Dean pressed a short kiss against his cheek. He loved his sappy little angel. “That was when my whole life changed.”

You changed me, Dean.

Dean’s heart clenched at the reminder of Cas’ last greatest goodbye speech. It was both beautiful and painful.

“From the moment that I first knew you, you filled my life with love.”

Everything you have ever done, you’ve done for love.

Dean almost wanted to tell him to stop. To tell him that he couldn’t hear this again. But he didn’t because perhaps that was exactly why Cas was saying it. The only other time that Cas had told him this, it had been moments before the Empty appeared and swallowed him up, taking him from Dean before he’d even had the time to process it.

But Cas didn’t want the words to sit with him like that; he wanted Dean to remember them in a different light.

So, when Cas paused, looking deep into his eyes as though asking for permission to continue, Dean nodded.

“Because that’s just the kind of man you are,” Cas said. “You’re caring, and thoughtful, and you are the most loving man I have ever met. Knowing you made me want to be a better person. Knowing you gave my whole existence meaning.

“For the past twelve years, I’ve fought by your side. I’ve fought heaven, and hell, and everything in between. I’ve chosen you over everyone and everything, again and again, Dean. And I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.”

“You’re a sappy son of a bitch, you know that, Buddy?” Dean said, finally feeling like he could breathe again.

“I’m aware,” Cas grinned. “I love you, Dean Winchester.”

This time, when they kissed, there were no taunts, only smiles and applause.

Extract taken from my latest destiel wedding fic ~ Chapel of Love by PiePrincess_andthe_FallenAngel.

I really liked paraphrasing the 15x18 confession scene here as it felt like Dean needed to hear it again, but in a happier moment. I hope you guys enjoyed it too

#destiel roadhouse wedding #season 16 time for a wedding #deancas #destiel #dean winchester #castiel winchester #misha collins #jensen ackles #destiel drabble #destiel fic #supernatural #spn

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yashimolala · 3 years

Text

⎡ where are you now? ⎦fushiguro t. & m.

★ part two of ⎡ can you hear me now? ⎦ ☆

❀ pairing: fushiguro megumi & fushiguro toji (familial)

❀ word count: 1,494 words

❀ genre: fluff/angst

❀ author’s notes: this is not incestuous in any manner.

❀ tags: character study, fushiguro toji-centric, introspection, purple prose, somewhat canon-compliant (?)

❀ description: the moments that were left at the back of the father and son’s minds, and the places where they could’ve been.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Sunflowers.

Megumi’s eyes flutter to the sight of a delightful scar.

He knows this is a dream, but it was a real memory flashing in his eyes, one that he’s never been able to recall before.

The scar was graceful, stretching to its’ full beauty on a smile. It was straight, adorning the left side of the person’s mouth.

Slightly-chapped lips, rosy hues on glowing cheeks, and large, rough hands reaching out for him. And his safety in a delicate body is entrusted to their palms as he’s wrapped in strong, built arms.

He could not see the upper half of their face. It was a rather blurry vision he had.

But he could tell… they were joyous. Delighted. Glad. Genuinely happy. They smiled like it was the most beautiful moment of their life. Like his very existence was a miracle.

Tenderly cradling his small, fragile body; gently rocking him to a soft tune. He doesn’t know the song itself, but he loves the comfort it brings. The small humming is imprinted in his memory, a precious memento to cross at his heart.

Megumi then closes his eyes, drifting to a deep slumber, all the while listening to the serene sound.

He lets the darkness wash him over to a new dream.

Interlude.

Your smile rivals the vibrance of a sunflower, Ever brilliant and happy, Blooming with a vivid yellow power, That I can never exude.

Shining brighter than the glaring star in a summer night. Fiery blooms of beauty captivating me in its splendor, Always facing the direction of its Creator Like a lost sailor in search for a ray of light.

- Yashi

Aloë.

Megumi remembers getting ice cream in the mall when he was a child.

He was observing the strange tubs of bizarre flavors illustrated in posters; he seemed like he wanted to try them out.

His father was watching him from afar, hands shoved into his pants’ pockets. The man then sighs, “Stay in the bench over there.”

Megumi nods, sitting himself on the vacant furniture, unknowing of what he was planning.

The older male disappears from Megumi’s sight into the flood of crowds, not even uttering another word before leaving.

Minutes of swinging his legs back and forth were spent as he waited. Person after person passed by him, never sparing a glance but he felt like the eyes lurking from the shadows are on him, but at the same time, he feels like he’s within a void of empty crowds.

Just as he was to hop off and set out to search for his father, the man was right before him, handing down a triangular-looking biscuit with a building swirl of soft white.

The child looked astonished, wrapping his small hands around the cone, green eyes sparkling with the smooth, glistening frozen treat.

Toji just sits beside him, seemingly uninterested with legs spread wide, in comparison to the kid’s knees that were almost closed in a timid manner.

Megumi blinks once, before glancing down the ice cream, bringing the pointed tip of coldness to his lips, taking a small bite.

Chilled velvety mush melted into sweetness as he savors the flavor.

It’s a classic vanilla that his father could only afford.

The father glances to his side at once, watching a small smile stretch on the kid’s usually stoic expression.

“Is it good?”

“Anything that father gets me is the best.”

Toji then closes his eyes with a contented smile, clearing out the chatter of the crowds in the mall and etched Megumi’s smiling face into the back of his head.

Aster.

Toji sees the color of the skies on Megumi.

He could never forget the beady gaze of his child, often glimmering with curiosity that he could never unravel.

They glow with a glint of excitement and interest, with every thing it explores, may it be the old bookstore down the street, the trashed alleyways in their neighborhood, or the stray puppy that he saw in the park.

Toji sees the only blessing in his life.

Toji sees Megumi making his own blessings out of the world.

A small smile pulls on his lips as the child’s hand holds onto his larger one for reassurance, relishing in the sound of his laughter.

Megumi has his mother’s eyes, but he also has his own soul in those pair of sapphires. It was somewhat funny because everyday when Toji looked into the mirror, all he can see are soulless orbs of dread.

But now that he can see the life in his blessing’s eyes, he’s more than satisfied.

Azalea.

The first time Toji went out with Megumi’s mother, they eloped to the beach, where the color of their eyes can be found, symbolic of their persona as well.

When he takes the boy to the ocean, his eyes gleamed with excitement as he starts talking about the sea creatures he’s read about, like the starfish, the crabs, the seahorse and more.

His blue gaze was a living memory of his mother, reminding him of the calm ocean waves that came crashing on the grains of gold and the clear skies that rolled across the earth.

He notices his mussed hair that was disheveled by the salt water that soaked into their skin and takes a photo of the footsteps they’ve left on the shore before it’s washed away by the sweep of shallow water.

When he feels delicate fingers graze on his knuckles, his chest surges with euphoria upon seeing Megumi who held onto his hand with his small digits, lips stretching with a smile and wet lashes framing his face.

He wants to wake up every day to this shade of blue, the voice of his son filling his ears, to live in a moment that will last until the end of his time.

Interlude.

‘You look just like your mother.’

The man remarks as he glances at the shape of his hair — same black, same spike, same curl that framed over his features that was a tad softer than Toji’s.

‘I guess I do carry her tenderness well.’ Megumi brings up a hand to the expanse of his neck, averting his focus away, refusing to make eye contact with his father.

This does not go unnoticed by Toji, as his emerald gaze catches on Megumi’s ocean ones. They were a deep shade of blue, drowning in the abysmal depths of the sea, accompanied by the shadows.

He speaks again. You both have the same eyes.

‘Cause we are both exhausted.’ The younger male responds almost immediately, but it never came out in an exasperated manner. It escaped his lips as a gentle sigh.

Toji’s eyes travel down to explore more what he shared with his mother, halting by the slim phalanges that he wore.

‘And the hands.’ He adds.

‘We share the same wilting fingers.’ Megumi wearily says, demonstrating by shifting his digits into a hand gesture that he does not recognize, only familiar with the lines and curves that shaped his wrist.

‘But that rage, your mother doesn’t wear that anger.’

‘You’re right.’ His expression that was once serene contorts into one of madness, bathed in blood and the laughter that cascades from his lips is almost maniacal. ‘This rage is the one thing I get from my father.’

Sweet Pea.

Fushiguro Toji was not expecting to have the latter half of his plans ruined by the Gojo kid who went berserk after rising from death.

All he felt was unease, unease, utter unease.

Just when he thought he had thrown his feelings away, it all comes back to him with an excruciating ache to his chest, tugging painfully on his heartstrings.

All he remembers is clinging onto his wife’s back like a helpless beast, the joy he had when Megumi was born, raising him up until he was five and fuck, he wishes he could have seen him grow up more — deal with his teenage phase, watch him graduate, have a peaceful story of his own.

He longs for a life where he could hear about Megumi’s dreams, where they talk about what happens in his everyday life over dinner, where they could live as a small and happy family with Tsumiki.

But he can’t go back to that life, can’t return to where he left off, can’t have what he want anymore so what’s the point?

He looks into the long path that was stretched out on the other way, disappearing into forever. He’s afraid to say this is the end he’s reached, but deep inside, he knows that he’s already lost, deep in the restraint of his own pride, in the choice of path that he chose and in this battle.

So when he chooses his last words, he tells them to the white-haired teen in hopes that his child will at least be able to live a better life than he did.

He just hopes that his only blessing is okay.

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

The language of flowers:

❀ Sunflower = “The sunshine in your smile”/Radiance ❀ Aloe = Affection and grief ❀ Aster = Love and daintiness/Remembrance ❀ Azalea = Family ❀ Sweet Pea = Goodbye

Oh and please do keep in mind that, in the second interlude, the dialogues that are in italics belong to Rupi Kaur’s ‘Milk and Honey’.

additional notes: i said i’d write more of this so i did.

#fushiguro toji #fushiguro megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #character study #introspection #angst #jjk megumi #jujutsu kaisen megumi #jjk angst #jjk toji #fsgr

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itsomgitsgreenblogging · 4 years

Text

Hospitality: A Shadowgast Fanfic

I saw a post on tumblr about what would happen if a vampire and a fairy met up for dinner and my brain went HEY HOW ABOUT THAT BUT SHADOWGAST. So, happy early Halloween! I hope you all enjoy!

Read on AO3

Preview:

“Where are you going?” Essek’s brother Verin asked of him. In the darkness and flickering candle light, music slipped through the cracks of the manor house. Women and men flitted between rooms like phantom, mouths dripping with jabs and laughter and gossip-obscured by masks and veils and whatever costumes had caught their fancy. There was the clink of glasses and the tap of shoes, as the normally mausoleum quiet home was filled with activity. Essek was dressed simply in black, having long ago tossed aside his mask. He had no such use for these things-and he had hoped to slip out of the party without someone noticing. He apparently had no such luck.

“Does it matter?” Essek asked, dawning his cloak and fixing his satchel.

“You always disappear at times like this,” Verin groaned, sounding resigned to his fate regardless. “You haven’t even fed tonight.”

“Please, as if I could have much of an appetite watching Mother seduce her fifth husband in ten years,” Essek said, jabbing his thumb towards the ballroom. Verin cringed sympathetically and Essek sighed. “I am just going out to get some fresh air and actually enjoy my All Hallow’s Eve. I’ll be back before morning-no one will even miss me.”

“What should I tell them if they ask where you went,” Verin asked as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I got eloped,” Essek said flatly, before leaving without allowing his brother to get another word in edgewise. He shook off the unpleasantness with a shudder as he quickly made his way down the path and past the line of carriages-quickly garbing himself in the shadows themselves to slip unseen past the footmen, and the servants, and the couples who had found dark corners for the clandestine meetings. He didn’t pay any of them any mind, after all, he had his own appointment to keep that night as he hurriedly found his path and headed into the woods. Essek didn’t enjoy the outdoors, but, it was worth the brief discomfort to make his appointment for that night. After all, there were only four times a year when he could.

The forest was dark, its branches reaching up into the sky like long twisting fingers that grabbed onto the blanket of fog and refused to let it go. Brambles caught at the edges of Essek’s cloak as he delved deeper into it’s dark recesses-past the crumbling gravestones marked with the long forgotten dead, past the brook that bubbled with water that was pitch black in the deep night and the slick river-stones, past even the forgotten cottage that sagged into the earth like a long forgotten husk. None of that scared him, after all, how could he be scared if he was one of the horrors that haunted this forest? There was little threat to be had from a drifting shade or will o'wisp-not when Essek was walking willingly to one of the forest’s deepest secrets on the night of greatest danger. The danger was worth the reward in Essek’s eyes.

Essek came to the fairy ring, the innocuous circle of mushrooms that sprouted between the hollow trunks of two dead trees. Essek barely paused before stepping foot into it. The moment he did, reality shifted and refracted like falling through a slightly cracked mirror. He almost lost balance but caught himself before he did. The forest was the same but even more vibrant-the shadows darker, the sounds louder, the sky pulsing with a violet hue. He heard the distant sound of merry-making and laughter-screams and howls-but the echoes didn’t quite carry weight. After all, those who were not invited could not enter the domain of another in the Feywild. Beyond was a line of trees-with light flickering from beyond. Essek quickly dusted himself off to the best of his ability, fixed the satchel on his shoulder before stepping through to the other side.

Beyond the trees and the darkness was drenched in the colors of autumn, so bright that Essek needed to take a moment or two to allow his unaccustomed eyes time to focus. Jack-o-laterns glowed with their craggy faces open in grins-clearly having been carved with an astute attention to detail, while fat golden candles dripping with wax were affixed to the branches of trees set on fire with red and gold and yellow leaves. Clusters of dandelions and marigolds popped up from between twisting roots, and a stream bubbled a merry welcoming tune. Spiderwebs glimmered with dew and waved like drapes, and then appearing amongst the leaves and light a cat looked up at him and meowed in greeting.

“Happy All Hallow’s Eve,” Essek greeted, knowing better than to be rude as he bent down and offered his hand to the cat. The cat moved in and pressed his head to his fingers, questing for attention and pets and happy to receive them. “Is your Master in?”

The cat, who Essek knew was named Frumpkin, gave another meow before turning and trotting off beyond the trailing vines of a willow. Essek followed suit, pushing beyond that and seeing a banquet table set up in the clearing-filled with food that would have been irresistible for the senses...for a creature unlike him. Instead the more tantalizing thing was the books-the bookshelves carved into trunks of trees and into stones-magical crystals that buzzed and whirled caught by the wind. Crystal cases of scrolls and maps and other oddities that shimmered and shifted in their contents as you looked. Sitting at a smaller table, with a book open upon it was the one that Essek had been seeking. The Master of this domain was dressed finely, clad in robes of ember and ash. He looked up, eyes a dark blue-flitted with vibrant shocks of gold and violet as the light caught them. His features were strong and striking-ears long and hair curls of flame and braided through with leaves and blooming chrysanthemum. He smiled in pleasure at the sight of him, reaching out fingers darkened as if by soot and glowing with cracks of gold magic.

“Happy All Hallow’s Eve,” the master of this slice of the feywild greeted. “I was wondering if I would see you again.”

“I, of course, would never pass up the opportunity...so long as you’ll invite me in,” Essek said, remaining on the edge of the space. The barrier between him and the fae pulsed and stretched taut over Essek’s skin. The fae smiled a sharp knowing smile.

“Of course,” he said. “You are welcome here, and are owed all of my hospitality.”

Essek felt the barrier give, and allowed him into the space. Though, he knew better to think it came without strings. After all, hospitality was its own protection for something of his kind. Essek sat in the empty seat at the table-the one that had been clearly prepared for this visit. Essek didn’t touch the glass of mulled wine that had been poured and that filled the air with heady spice.

“It has been months since our last talk,” Essek said, pulling out the three tomes that he had brought along. “And I couldn’t help but continue to think about our conversation from last time.”

“Ah, yes, about the use of transmutation magic to permanently change the form of another,” the fey said, eyes flashing excitedly.

“I was wondering if you would like to look at these,” Essek said, offering the tomes. “As they could be a great aid to our discussion. I scoured libraries and many shops in search of them, they were quite a rare find.”

“Are you intending this as a gift?” His tone was curious, and he trailed his fingers along the edge of the closest spine with a gentle sweep.

“Of course not,” Essek said. “Nor a favor. But instead, it is something I wish to share with you given freely.”

“Very clever,” he laughed, tapping his fingers in rhythms of three. “I appreciate your diligence on such things.”

“These nights we share I hold close to my heart, I wouldn’t wish for you to feel obligated to pay back a favor,” Essek explained.

“A gift for a gift I would repay,” he said, hand catching Essek’s. The heat of it nearly singed Essek’s cold flesh, and Essek was half sure he would pull his hand away and find it scorched. The fey turned his hand over though instead, thumb running along the veins of Essek’s wrist. “If you would allow me...if you would give me your name.”

“You may not have my name, you may call me Essek,” he reminded him.

“Stingy,” the fey hummed, sounding humored. “You are too brilliant by half, my friend.”

“And what shall I call you tonight?” Essek asked him in turn.

“You may call me Caleb,” he said, tilting his head to the side as if listening to the name for a moment. He appeared to be satisfied with the sound. “Yes, Caleb will suffice.”

“Then, shall we Caleb?” Essek said, motioning to the books.

The following time-though time was a strange slippery thing in the Feywild, was spent in deep conversation and sharing brilliant realizations. Every time he met Caleb like this, he wondered how he had gone on before. The first time he had stumbled upon this place and the master of it, he had been confused and defensive-but despite their differences they shared a kinship that Essek had never known among any of his kind. Others in his coven were hoarders of valuables, owing to centuries of gathering wealth. But he hadn’t ever met a person who valued knowledge as much as Caleb-who delighted in magic for magic’s sake. As they continued, Caleb spoke about his friends-other denizens of the Feywild or regular visitors. Essek only could make the trek to this place when the veil was the weakest four times a year, owing to his nature. But Caleb delighted in telling stories of his companions, the comings and goings of his adventures. Those seemed to just fuel his creativity, and he shared with Essek a host of spells he had created since their last meeting. Essek had met Caleb’s friends all at various points when he had visited Caleb, and somehow they were nearer and dearer to him than his coven who interacted daily with him. Caleb’s life was full of movement and activity, which was fitting for him. Essek supposed that was the difference of their immortality. Essek didn’t mind his undeath, nor did the particulars of his situation bother him. But despite having a coven, he was a solitary creature by nature as most of his sort were. After all, his kind could claim they were of high society, but there were no debates or agreements to resolve bad blood. Instead they would claw each other’s guts out at the slightest show of weakness.

Finally though they came to a natural ebb where Caleb stretched much like a cat, and Essek watched the lines of his figure with a pang in his stomach. His body seemed determined to remind him that he, indeed, hadn’t fed yet that night. He, of course, could go a while without feeding. But it was difficult to remember that when looking at Caleb.

“Is there anything I can get for you, I would hate to be neglectful of my duties as your host,” he said, nodding his head over to where the spread of food lay-piping hot soups and roasted duck with golden skin and cakes frosted with sumptuous frosting. “Perhaps something to eat?”

Cheeky bastard, Essek thought as he resisted the urge to bite the inside of his own cheek. The taste of his own blood would do nothing but make it worse. Caleb had noticed.

“As much as I appreciate the offer, I must decline,” Essek said stiffly. “Food like that doesn’t appeal to me.”

“The intricacies of your peculiar state,” Caleb said, with a knowing blink-much like a cat.

“There is something you could offer me,” Essek said, standing up and throwing caution to the wind. He pressed his hands to the arms of Caleb’s chair, feeling a dark thrill at being taller than him for once, seeing the way that Caleb’s head turned up to give Essek a purposeful view of his neck. Essek could feel his fangs begin to ache at the sight of pale-freckled skin and blue-violet spider-web veins-the perfume of his scent like fragrant wood set to smoke and the charge of golden-honey magic. “If you were to give it freely, to nourish and sustain me. Certainly no one would doubt your capabilities as a host and I would be so very grateful.”

“Ay, there’s the rub my dearest friend,” Caleb chuckled, eyes dark with longing and crinkling with humor, allowing Essek to move down and finally-finally begin pressing kisses to his neck-the taste of him nearly throwing him into a frenzy. But he held back, the dark hunger that boiled over in his body contained by the skin of his teeth. “This game we play would still be at a stand still.”

“How so,” Essek asked, kissing the junction of his jaw, pepping kisses as he slid his fingers along the edge of Caleb’s shirt.He wanted to feel more, taste more. After all he was a selfish creature not used to denying himself anything, but denying himself of this was the sweetest torture he could imagine. After all, it would make savoring it all the sweeter.

“If you feed from me, I belong to you and I would have to follow you. But by consuming within my domain, you belong to me and you would have to stay here forever,” Caleb said, catching Essek’s face between his hands. He brought their mouths together for a bruising hungry kiss, smoldering with desire that ran so hot that Essek couldn’t help the growl at the back of his throat. Neither of them needed to breathe-not really, but Essek pulled back so that he could settle his mind and thoughts on the matter.

“I want you to come with me,” Essek said, his whole heart poured out for Caleb to see.

“And I want you to stay,” Caleb told him with just as much conviction. “So it appears we are at an impasse.”

“It appears we are, my friend,” Essek said, curling a lock of Caleb’s hair around his finger and then tucking it behind his ear.

“And out of time,” Caleb said, standing up at full height. He kissed Essek again with a tenderness that Essek had only ever been given by him. Essek stood there and let it wash over him like the heat from a gently minded hearth. Caleb’s hands traced down his spine and settled at his hips, as if once again mapping him for his memories as Essek savored this moment for all it was worth. Eventually Caleb pulled away. “The veil begins to thicken, and the night draws to an end. I would not have you hurt, so I must bid you goodbye.”

“And so we part...but only for a little while,” Essek said, taking Caleb’s hands again.

“My friends and I will make flower crowns again for the winter,” Caleb said with a hum. Frumpkin twined at his feet purring with affection. “Lavender roses perhaps. Shall I expect you?”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Essek said, kissing Caleb’s hands one last time before they parted. They shared one final look. I love you, Essek wanted to say. I love you, I would stay for you, I would remain here for you. But he knew better to lie to a fey. There was some part of his heart that was still selfish-and though he did want to stay and he did love him...he also couldn’t give up the world outside. Not with all the things he could continue to learn and discover there. One day he would figure out a way to have both, but until then, this would need to be enough.

And so Essek left the grove with his books tucked safely in his satchel. He slipped back through the fairy ring. He didn’t once look back, knowing that if he spared a single look he would be bound to that place and run back into Caleb’s arms and stay there. He walked past the trees, past the graveyard, and all the way back to the manor he called home. He slipped down the stairs, down to the basement where the sun wouldn’t reach it’s clawing fingers to wrench him from his slumber. He still felt it though-the moment the sun began to rise above the horizon. With it, the chance of that beautiful and terrifying future faded away yet again.

And so Essek settled down in his coffin, slipping into the dark recesses of a dreamless breathless sleep-with the last thought in his mind being a kiss.

#critical role fanfic #critical role #shadowgast #essek thelyss #caleb widogast #halloween fic #vampire!essek #fey!caleb

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invisibleinorange · 3 years

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Bridgerton’s Adrift | 19/?

Chapters: 19/? Fandom: Bridgerton Rating: M Warnings: Presumed Character Death Relationships: Colin Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton/Penelope Featherington(besties), Bridgerton Family Dynamics, Simon Hastings/Daphne Bridgerton Characters: Colin Bridgerton, Penelope Featherington, Eloise Bridgerton, Anthony Featherington, Benedict Bridgerton, Portia Featherington, Violet Bridgerton, Pretty Much Everyone (at points) Additional Tags: Bridgerton, Polin Summary: Unexpected bad news arrives for the Bridgerton Family (and friends) regarding Colin's travels. This will be a series that is set after "The Duke and I" or season one of the show. It is a companion piece to "Goodbyes".

Colin was only a man and as such he couldn’t help but want Penelope. His desire for her burned through every fiber of his being anytime she so much as looked at him. He didn’t honestly know how he had been so blind in the previous season.

The irony was that no one really had. He’d certainly thought Marina was beautiful and he’d fancied himself in love with her but he hadn’t desired her. When he’d learned the truth about her and everything had ended, he hadn’t felt as if the world was ending. He’d felt relief.

Whatever she’d woke in him was thunderously loud in his head though. He was pretty sure that he would actually die of a broken heart if Penelope hadn’t returned his affections though. If he’d returned back and been forced to watch her live as wife to his brother, he probably would have thrown himself into the Thames as dramatic as that might be.

He couldn’t live without her.

As much as he was enjoying sneaking away, stealing some kisses it was becoming difficult to not take it further. He could impatient and impulsive at times. Anthony had once told him that it was a matter of him being young.

He was tired of being apart from her or doing what was socially appropriate. He wanted to start his life with her and he didn’t want to wait or get permission from Anthony or his mother to do it.

As he laid with her, unable to sleep for fear of missing out of a single moment of solitude with her he knew what he wanted. He’d never been certain of anything in his life and he needed to verbalize it.

Penelope Featherington had to be his wife.

“Elope with me, Pen,” he murmured, body tilted toward hers. A hand was grazing her face despite the fact she was half-asleep he knew that she could hear him.

The question had pulled her back into consciousness enough to hear the question and think it over. It was absolute madness. They were already going to be enough trouble for stealing away to some inn. The accusations of ruin were going to be plentiful.

She’d imagined Colin Bridgerton asking her to marry him a million times throughout her short life and none of those had been like this.

The reality didn’t seem any less than any of those daydreams though and despite the fact that she she’d tasked him with courting her it was no longer reasonable. They were playing a dangerous game sneaking around and eventually they were going to cave to lust or get caught. With his name attached to hers they would be immune from scandal.

There was one thing that she hadn’t told him though, one thing that only Benedict knew about. She’d thought it imperative for anyone who was going to be permanently attached to her to know. Benedict had taken the information well. He’d been impressed with her. She wasn’t completely sure that Colin would feel the same way.

She sat up.

“I – I - need to tell you something first and - it might change everything. I should have told you weeks ago but I didn’t want to ruin having you back with this,” she told him. The weight of it definitely did bear down on her.

Colin sat up as well, brows furrowing in concern.

“If something happened between you and Benedict when you thought I was dead, I – I can’t be mad about that,” he said stating the first thing that had come to mind. The one thing that he’d certainly thought about more times than he might have appreciated.

She frowned at the implication.

“I’ve only ever kissed you,” she said defensively. Perhaps, she’d grown to care for his brother but nothing inappropriate had happened. There was nothing that she needed to admit there. It was almost insulting that he thought that something might have occurred there.

Her arms crossed and it was clear she wasn’t pleased.

Colin didn’t know what she could possibly have to say that would change how he felt about her. There was literally nothing.

“I love you, Pen. I’m not going to change my mind,” he told her firmly, hoping that would be enough to get her to tell him whatever it was.

“I wrote the article about Marina,” she told him after a long moment. “I tried my best to tell you the truth but her situation and you weren’t listening and I knew you were serious about eloping with her. I couldn’t let you –“

“Whistledown did that,” he said after a long moment shaking his head.

“And I’m her,” Penelope said after a long moment.

Colin’s jaw tightened with anger and Penelope was certain he was going to get out of the bed and leave her there. His silence was terrifying. To her credit, he did get up and he paced the small space of the room a few times, inhaling sharply as if trying to gather his wits about him. He didn’t leave though.

“I know that you won’t be able to look at me the same way,” she said after a long moment, arms relaxing but voice pleading, feet dangling off the bed and she debated pursuing him, “I never intended to hurt anyone. I was just desperate and you weren’t listening to reason. She told me that you could never love me – but it never changed the fact that I loved you.”

Colin moved across the space of the room, he gripped at her shoulders more forcefully than he probably should before finding himself when he realized she looked frightened. “You could have been ruined,” he said trying to keep his voice low but he was shaking with fury though who it was directed at was unknown. “If someone knew… If someone figured it out… The Queen could have had you locked away and you could have lost your head. What was I thinking?-”

He wasn’t mad about Marina at all. It was the peril she’d placed herself in that bothered him. He dropped his hands after a moment, pacing starting back again. Penelope wasn’t sure what to say or how to make this right.

“I could have gotten you in trouble with my own selfishness. I was such an idiot and you were in front of me the whole time and I wasn’t even in love with her. I was in love with the idea of being in love until I realized I loved you.”

Penelope wasn’t sure if it was smart to approach or not. Colin seemed to be in the middle of a bit of a breakdown of sorts. She’d never seen him so out of sorts and she didn’t quite know what this meant for his proposal or the future.

“Col-” she said after a minute, finally climbing back to her feet, moving tentatively over to him, a hand on his shoulder.

He spun back, eyes dark as he glowered down at her. He reached a hand out and he pulled her to him successfully earning a squeak of surprise.

“I need you to understand something,” he told her firmly. There was a pause and his eyes moved to her lips. She nodded at him, quiet as she waited for him to yell, scream or put her in her place. His grip was firm but his did soften slightly as he backed her to the bed, letting her body fall into it. This was hardly the reaction she’d anticipated and her heart sped up.

“I’m always going to love you and if anyone ever makes you think otherwise ever again, I’m going to murder them,” he continued, climbing over her using his arms to keep himself from squishing her.

“You still want me?” she asked, gazing up to him in surprise.

He answered by pressing a needful kiss to her mouth. He was done waiting on some arbitrary thing to confirm what was in his heart. He could get past her being Whistledown. What he couldn’t get past was her trying to help him and him ignoring it or the fact that Marina Thompson would dare try and speak for how he felt. He might not have been smart enough to have had it figured out but that didn’t mean he hadn’t cared for her then. He would have been as furious then as he was now. He would moved Heaven and Earth to prove the words false.

Even if it had been another lifetime ago, he still felt an urgency to show Penelope just how he felt about her.

She returned his kiss, making it loud and clear that she was not going to deny him whatever he needed to get through this moment. Her legs opened almost reflexively, arms pulling him closer until there was no space between their bodies.

“Let me have you,” he demanded against her lips. His voice was raspy, a mixture of all the emotions he was feeling flooding into this near plead because he wouldn’t dare ever do anything that Penelope didn’t consent to. He couldn’t stomach the prospect of doing her more harm.

He didn’t exactly stop himself from further exploration while he waited the answer. His mouth darted to her throat and down letting his tongue taste her skin, a hand already set to working on the buttons of the dress she’d had on since they left London.

“Yes,” she told him firmly.

The dress was honestly done for. Colin didn’t mean to be overzealous, especially when he hadn’t exactly gone above and beyond for packing. He’d have to bribe someone to go purchase something new in the morning but he didn’t give a damn about the logistics of it all at the moment, especially when the buttons popped so easily and he could push at the fabric.

Somewhere in his mind, he’d thought to promise that he’d be gentle and make sure that she enjoyed this. He was speechless at the sight of her bare breasts. He’d seen her in nightgowns and shifts a time or two in recent weeks but he’d never dared push his luck.

He let out an audible groan before letting his mouth move down, one hand teasing one of her breasts while the his tongue and teeth explored the other. He kept going until he had earned a moan out. Then and only then did he switch to the other side. He had to be equal opportunity here.

He couldn’t help but laugh softly when he felt her small hand, tugging him back to her lips by the hairs on his head. He willingly came though, never one to turn way her demand for kisses.

He had to put a hand under her hip in an attempt to shift her though, in an effort to tug at the fabric so that he might address the issue of unmentionables.

Colin forced himself off her long enough to let his hands do the work it needed to do to rid her of the rest of the fabric. His eyes met hers as he went to undo his trousers. He’d removed his shirt at some point during their earlier somehow less innocent kisses and it wouldn’t require much to free his erection.

Penelope’s eyes widened slightly at the sight of him though she didn’t provide commentary, didn’t dare ask the million questions that she had. She’d gotten enough information from Daphne before her almost-wedding night that she had nothing to fear.

Colin was back on her in a minute, pressing a tempered kiss to her mouth then her nose before he let a hand move down her middle through the thatch of hair until her found the tantalizing heat of her center. He practically throbbed with need for her but he had to restrain himself a little longer.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured and she felt one finger dip inside of her. The sensation caused her body to shift against him and an indelicate sound escaping her that only spurred him to keep going.

Penelope had been horrifically embarrassed at the graphic explanation of intimacy from Daphne. She had to give her some credit though. She’d not lied when she said there was much to be enjoyed.

His fingers were working just fine and every time he touched her differently or added more it only served to make her want him more.

“Col-“ she murmured after a moment.

His eyes met hers and there was no mistaking what she was saying even if he already knew. He scaled back up her body, positioning his body before he began to slip inside, nearly exploding at just how perfect she truly felt around him.

It took ever fiber of his being not to bury himself completely but he knew that he needed to take his time, knew that there would be some temporary pain involved here. He was calculated slow, biding his time and just savoring the little sounds that were coming out of her.

He paused when he finally found resistance and he forged ahead. He ceased all motion when he saw the slightest hint of pain cross her features, balancing himself enough so that he might run a hand through her curls to distract her from pain that he’d never have to put her through again.

When he felt her shift against him slightly, he knew that it was okay to move and it all felt so perfectly natural. He lost himself to it though he certainly didn’t let himself get overly carried away. He wasn’t going to last long. Not this time. It had been pent up inside of him for far too long.

He let a hand move between them, working nerve endings that he knew would push her there as well while his mouth worked the one spot that he knew would make her squirm.

Penelope definitely did squirm, though she couldn’t quite explain everything that was happening in her body she knew that it was right and she was close to something. When it hit, her body shook and she gasped. Had she forgotten to breathe for minutes? Hours? She couldn’t even remember.

It was just enough to push him to climax, collapsing next to her. Her tugged her in, hugging her against him as they both struggled to breath.

“… So… that was a yes to the eloping, right?” he said after a long moment, voice breathless.

She buried her face in his shoulder to fight off a fit of laughter.

The answer was definitely yes.

#⚜ writings — polin #polin #penelope featherington #colin bridgerton

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jonesgirl88 · 3 years

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Katie! Do you ever think about how Oliver married Holly because he was looking for Shane before he knew Shane existed? He was looking for someone who would shake things up a little, but in a way that made him better - that made his life better - yet still see him for who he was, and love him for that? Then Shane shows up and even though the timing seems wrong and he can't do anything about it, his heart goes "Oh, there you are. I've finally found you." UGH MY HEART

I DON'T KNOW YOUR NAME AND IT MAKES ME SAD. Until I know your name, you are 'Muse' and I'm perfectly okay with that! You thought you had long answers...hold on, sister. I have wanted to ask you about Holly FOREVER but didn't want to seem stalker-y so I've been holding off. You asked first so HERE'S ALL MY HOLLY & HOLLY/OLIVER THOUGHTS AND DO I HAVE T H O U G H T S. I'm going to try to organize this as best I can. First, if you haven't seen the international version of the FPWL Holly/Oliver drink scene you need to watch it. It will explain why Oliver decided to marry Holly through Oliver's eyes. I need to use 3 quotes: "Don't you think you've waited for her [Holly] long enough? I believe in keeping promises. I am, after all, a gentleman" - Pilot "This odd fellow who loves words and books and things from the past, and has spent his life trying to find a future with someone to share it with. I haven't been very successful at that yet" - For Christmas "Holly you are a beautiful woman with a fascinating way of looking at the world that could entrance the most stoic of men. I had never met anyone like you; you made me uncomfortable with my life and I thought maybe that's good. Maybe my life needs a little shaking up. You certainly did that." - FPWL (International version) First things first: I don't hate Holly. I really want your thoughts on Holly because I don't see her as a "bad guy". She's an antagonist but she's not a villain and she's not hate-worthy in my opinion. Yes, she's flawed. Yes, she's not "wife material". Yes, I wouldn't trust her to watch a goldfish let alone live a life with her. However she's not a bad person and she's very upfront with what she wants. We're only told Holly's side of the story once in FPWL during the drinks at the Brown scene. We have no reason not to take her at face value so from the beginning, she's been honest. She wants to travel the world and write poetry--she doesn't want to be tied down. The elephant in the room: yes, it was VERY wrong of her to run away to Paris. It was VERY wrong of her to cut off contact for 2 years. Holly is a flawed human who, like someone else we know, leaves when things get tough. There is no excuse for her absence and I appreciate none is given other than she is who she is and Oliver has to come to terms with that. Oliver is also a flawed human with a bit of a savior complex. He saved Holly in the middle of a blizzard, a noble and righteous act. He remains true to the covenant of marriage despite his wife running away, a noble and righteous act. He protects Shane in the bank vault when she's freaking out, a noble and righteous act. He's a protector and he calls himself a "gentleman" and he has a strict moral code but as Shane points out, he's a hypocrite. In his need to save the "damsel in distress" (Holly), he sees who he wants to see--someone who needs protection. Holly doesn't need protection past that one instance but he continually wants to be a hero. Oliver is intense. About everything. He and Holly have been married 3 years (said in For Christmas) but she's been gone 2 years (FPWL). Rita and Norman have been working together 4 years and Rita knows Holly. We know Norman and Rita first met Christmas Eve and Holly and Oliver were stuck in a blizzard. Oliver and Holly went from complete strangers to married in one year. If you watch the international version of FPWL, they explain both Oliver and Holly thought they were destined to be together because who survives something like that without something happening between them. Hopefully this is where it all ties together. Oliver sees himself as a "gentleman" but he uses that as a façade to see people how he wants to view them. He puts them in easy-to-understand boxes even if that's not who they are. In this instance, Holly never wanted to settle down but Oliver didn't want to see that. They both thought they belonged together because of what they survived. If Holly didn't want to settle down, why would she propose? I'm not 100% positive, but I'm about 82% sure she thought she could

change him. Holly and Oliver aren't that different; they're both wordsmiths, they both have a love for experiences rather than things, and they both believed they were part of divine timing. Even how they married speaks to the wanderlust of Holly: they eloped. She proposed and 3 hours later they were married. As a man of faith I would think that would cause Oliver to open up his eyes to the reality of who Holly is, but when you believe this person and you are meant to be because of a divine meeting...I can see how and why he rushed in without much forethought. Holly leaves and Oliver freezes in time BUT he does begin to think about what he wants, leading to quote 2. Oliver wants to spend his life with someone. I believe he loved the Holly he built up in his mind, but not Holly the person. Over the course of 2 years, he comes to the realization the Holly of his mind and Holly the person are different beings; one very real and the other a figment of his imagination. Now enter Shane and Oliver wants to put this new mystery in a box but Shane refuses. She bucks his perceptions of her and is part of his growing process he has to go through. I honestly do not believe Oliver had romantic feelings towards Shane until the dance in the DLO. That's the beginning of him realizing he wants Shane but at this point he is still devoted to Holly and I believe he wants her to come back. Unlike Holly, Shane never leaves and he keeps bumping against the wife that left and a woman who doesn't and his heart is definitely conflicted. We know Shane is conflicted; Becky literally tells her to get "an available Oliver". Holly is the characterization of "refusal to confront". Holly ran away when she didn't like her circumstances and it takes 2 movies and 9 episodes for her refusal to be realized. Shane self terminates several times because she can't deal with the circumstances BUT she comes back. Oliver leaves in emotionally charged moments because he can't deal with what's happening BUT he comes back. Now we come to the last quote: the confrontation between Holly and Oliver. Did Holly love Oliver? I think she did as much as she could. She is drawn to a boho, artist, backpacking lifestyle and if she found someone who could do that with her, I think she would have no problem committing to that person. But Oliver isn't like that. He wants a house and a steady job and to work at the post office. Living out of a backpack is as disinviting to him as living a routine is to Holly. Did Oliver love Holly? I think he did as much as he could. He pigeon-holed her and didn't listen to what she wanted when she told him explicitly who she is. He had to grow to see his own errors and in that, he saw Holly for who she really is. At the end of FPWL I think Oliver is seeing Holly for who she is and Holly is seeing Oliver for who he is. I think they care for each other but Oliver is now listening to his heart and realizes what and who he wants. Look at what he says to Shane: "You know, for two years I've imagined what it might be like if it became absolutely clear that my marriage was over. Once all the questions were answered and I knew I would never be Holly's husband again, how would I feel? What would I do?" What did he do? He went out and bought a porch swing. He's over Holly and is ready to move on. The refusal to confront had to be confronted; the truth was revealed; and now we can move on. Oliver and Shane can move on and there's no more running away. Oliver literally says "I'm not letting go". One more quote and then I'll finally answer your question. "Well, when we began together as colleagues charged with delivering so many lost things, I believed that to everything there is a season and to every lost letter there is a divine purpose. Only today, seeing you, Norman, and you, Rita, so happy, and you, my Shane, my love, promising to love me forever, only now do I realize... just how very lost I was, too, and that your friendship and your faith have uh, delivered me as well." - TTA Oliver has changed and he knows he's changed. He's

changed for the better and didn't realize how lost he was until he found his way out. The savior needed a Savior and while he was a "man of faith" before, he's truly a faithful man now. He knows how much he's changed and how much he needed to change to be the man Shane needs and deserves. SO TO FINALLY ANSWER YOUR QUESTION: Do I ever think about how Oliver married Holly because he was looking for Shane before he knew Shane existed? Answer: No, because Oliver didn't realize what he needed until he grew up and saw what was in front of him. I don't think his heart knew Shane when he saw her BUT when he starting thawing and allowing himself to feel and think about what he wanted and needed in his life as a partner? ABSOLUTELY his heart, mind, and body jumped to Shane in a moment. This isn't speculation: it's canon. The ring is freshly off. The divorce papers aren't even signed. Holly probably isn't even on the plane back to Paris. Oliver is already building Shane her porch swing because his heart looked up and said "Oh, there you are. I've finally found you." And that, my dear Muse, is totally worth gushing about.

#sholiver #asked and answered #this literally took me all day to write #and I can keep going #but then I'll really look crazy #but if you want more...ask #signed sealed delivered

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shypotato-translations · 3 years

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QTVW Chapter 24

Showbiz* Sexy Queen (XI)

----

After Mei Mu Lan hung up the phone, she opened the webpage and searched for the novel 《Love in a Fallen City》.

As mentioned in the plot, Bai Jieying, a newcomer to the industry, became a sensation after appearing in this controversial film.

And just now Miss S called, informing her to go to Ling's Group tomorrow, the entertainment company's drama team for an audition.

This coincided with her intentions, so she opened the pages of the novel now, and carefully read through, the subject of the novel is lesbianism, 《Love in a Fallen City》.

Love in a Fallen City, a novel set in the early Republic of China; The story takes place in Hangzhou, an ancient water town; The protagonist of the story is the wife of the second son of the local warlord Xiao Sheng Yan.

The wife of the Major, who was a second generation warlord along with her husband, was of noble birth. She is the ninth daughter of Ling Ye Chong, the warlord of the southwest region, and the only legitimate daughter among Ling Ye Chong's 18 daughters. A much higher status than her other sisters.

Although the two Xiao Ling families were married out of interest, the newlyweds were a good match for each other.

And the her husband who is a Major, the second son of Xiao Shi Yan, was a dashing and suave-looking man who fought heroically and was, by all accounts, a wonderful man.

But naturally, such a man has a downside: he is lustful and likes to abuse his partner.

This hobby of Xiao Er Shao's was harmless to the society of the time.

And when he was confronted with the wife of the famous Major, he could not lay hands on her out of love and reason.

Therefore, he left the lady cold and spent many years in the company of playboys and prostitutes, which made her cold to him.

The story opens with the lady sitting on a carved wooden stool, wearing a goose-yellow antique dress and a wooden face as she allows her maid to do her make-up.

Listening to the maid's report of Xiao Er Shao's whereabouts in her ears, like,

“The young master has gone drinking again today,”

“The young master has played with his hands again today,”

“The young master is throwing his money away again today for a 'thing',”……

The lady looked at her reflection in the bronze mirror, the flowery beauty in it, but now her heart was as dry as a half-hundred-year-old woman's.

A young girl, as young as a flower, is tortured by this feudal society and has lost her vitality.

And it was on such early mornings as these for three years that the maid mentioned a woman, a beauty much loved by her own husband, a singing opera singer of unclean origins.

She smiled softly as she listened to the hilarity and said,

“The right way to be a wife is not to be jealous or afraid. I don't blame my husband for being sentimental, he's at that age, he loves to play, so let him go, it's just a thing. If he likes it, he can take it into his house and no one can say a word against it. All right, it's almost time to go and pay my respects to the old lady, let's go.”

The 'thing' that the lady refers to is the other female lead in the story, the lover with whom the lady is entangled for life.

The story shifts perspective to a woman in a large red costume behind a noisy theater stage in the downtown area, now holding a black ink pencil and tracing narrow eyeliner for herself.

The troupe master beside her also muttered to her about this young man who had been so generous recently.

She listened unconcernedly, her hands flowing with makeup, and when she heard the troupe master mention the man's wife, the woman finally felt a little different emotion.

She smiled lightly and said,

“The woman in such a deep house is most uninteresting. From what you are saying, this Major's wife is not a small person. But even if she is the daughter of the Emperor, she is nothing more than a plaything for men to hold in their hands. We are both women, but one is a high-class prostitute and the other a slightly lower class.

I hope this young lady will not be like those ladies before her who could not control their own men and went after men's women, which is really annoying.”

Two women responding very differently to the same incident.

One is as cool as an immortal, the other is as feminine as a demon.

It left a little mark on each other's hearts, so much so that when they first met later, they couldn't help but feel close to each other.

The lady relieves the theater's chastising punishment for the ladies, and the theater's son settles the city's ruffians for the lady; two seemingly worlds apart, and so they cross paths.

One is the wife of a noble and noble family Major, and the other is a lowly opera singer who is trampled on by others. They experience the sweetness of meeting, knowing, companioning, cherishing and loving each other, and the pain of clinging, thinking, remembering and wanting to say goodbye.

Because of the difference in their status, they could only see each other a few times a year, and the rest of the time they were in brocade, but this forbidden love affair brought both of them to life.

The lady refuses to share her bed with Xiao Er Shao for this reason, and is treated coldly by her husband's family, making her life worse every day.

The opera singer refused to share a bed with a wealthy guest for this reason and was tortured by the troupe, in a state of wretchedness worse than death.

Finally, the women decide that they will do something shocking, and that is to elope together and settle down to farm in the opera singer's hometown.

They looked forward to a bright future with each other and each escaped their shackles one winter's day, but the very moment they escaped to embrace each other, both parties sent someone after them.

Xiao Er Shao's face turned blue when he saw the two embracing each other.

How could he let them go when one was his legitimate wife and the other was a opera singer whom he truly loved and now, they were together, making him the laughing stock of everyone?!

He ordered the underlings of the Xiao Family, and took the lady back by force, while the opera singer was beaten alive with sticks by the underlings.

Blood stained the clean white snow, splattered out like cold winter plums, falling and falling, bodies left unmanaged and finally bones.

When the lady learned of this incident, she went mad, but begged for death and was severely tortured by Xiao Er Shao.

She spent every day and night alone in a cold, crumbling house, begging for her life and unable to die.

Until she met the opera singer in red, pale and with crimson lips, a month later on a bloody night, when she winked at her and babbled and sang a soft song under her breath.

Towards the end of the song, her flirtatious phoenix eyes, moist with moisture, stared at her as she said to her,

“Cease to be like this and live.”

The Major's wife began to regain her senses, and because she herself was of noble birth, the people of the Xiao Family couldn't just club her to death like they did with the opera singer, but had to go out of their way to cover up and pretend that the incident had never happened.

The Major's wife, a woman from the deep house of yore, but different again from before, has an additional female ghost in red in her room.

When no one is around, they will snuggle, they will compose songs together, they will be in love.

Doing all the things that lovers everywhere, would do.

Until Xiao suffered defeat, all Xiao's men died in battle, the revolutionary army defeated the warlords and stragglers broke into Xiao's residence.

The ladies live in a trance, rejecting the reality of the Xiao House's decay, while the servants carry their bags and scurry around for their lives.

Once again the Lady sat in front of the mirror, an unseen hand, holding a brush, tracing gently over her pale face.

From top to bottom, the inky eyebrows, the slightly powdered blush and the sweet red lips are a living example of a pretty girl from back in the day.

The lady smiled lightly and changed into a red dress, and the house burned naturally with no one in the second young lady's room in the Xiao residence.

Under the bright flames, a beautiful woman in red can be clearly seen, wrapping her arms around a woman in a long goose yellow dress, slowly swaying and dancing, embracing each other intimately and kissing deeply.

The story ends with excerpts from the novel. Written is:

From a family dinner in spring, one plays out life and death on stage, while the other dresses up as a virtuous wife offstage.

By the cold night of the ninth month, one was intercepted by a domestic servant inside the fence and the other was brutally beaten to death outside the fence.

In the old theater, a woman's watery sleeves danced and her feet moved; a woman's mouth smiled and her feelings were deep. To look at each other is to have no regrets about true love.

Mei Mu Lan's eyes were dazed, emotionally trapped in the story, unable to pull out of it for several days.

She closed the webpage and lay back** with her eyes closed, a story like this, it did hit home, Miss S's writing was excellent, she really wrote this story from an outsider's point of view.

In her writing, each person is portrayed vividly, and a scene of the Republic leaps into the reader's mind.

She doesn't stand up for the state and try to put a sacred veil on this fringe romance; she simply depicts a story that feels like an event that actually happened in the Republic.

In the midst of the Republic, when times were up and down and in turmoil**, everything changed, but only the relationship between the lady and the opera singer remained the same.

They experience great sorrow, great joy, great ups and downs, and every chapter of the story depicts the cold reality.

But, near the end, she recounts the transformation of the opera singer into a ghost, and the novel after this describes the happy life between them.

But, unfortunately, everyone else in the story, and the readers outside of it, all know that the opera singer may be a figment of the Lady's imagination after she has gone mad.

But, it is this plausible description, punctuated by joy against sorrow, that gives the story an unconventional and sublime ending.

The happiness visible in the story, at the end when the two are buried in the fire, the reader's heart unconsciously breathes a sigh of relief for the Lady, thinking: at last it is over, at least the Lady thinks they are living together.

The opera singer at the end paints the lady's make-up and she smiles in the light of the fire, sharing a poignant ending.

A lady in a large courtyard, deprived of the freedom of her body and firmly imprisoned by feudal society; a lowly opera singer in the marketplace, deprived of the freedom of her mind and oppressed by those around her every day.

These are two ordinary women who lived in that particular era, representing two classes.

The women under such oppression fall in love and their lives are rejuvenated, giving rise to the most sincere love, but this emotion meets with social barriers and ends up as a tragedy rather than joy, leaving the reader with a shocking and sorrowful ending.

Mei Mu Lan took a few deep breaths to ease her mind and she began to think calmly.

The novel is about to be turned into a far-reaching film, and in the plot of the novel, it is mentioned that Bai Jieying ends up as the lady in the 《Love in a Fallen City》, while Ling Yi Yao becomes the opera singer in it.

And now, with her ambition for the film, then, after considering her own strengths, she chose to go for the role of the opera singer.

And the next morning, she went to the place where Miss S had agreed.

By the time she arrived on set, the crew had already begun auditions and she was greeted, taken straight to Miss S and then dragged off to have her make-up applied.

This was followed by an ethnic opera which she sang in front of many invested parties.

Her fluent singing voice, vivid expressions and agile figure overwhelmed everyone in the audience in a flash. And she was successfully selected to be an acting actress within the cast of the play.

Mui Mu Lan had been made to look like a fool today by Miss S. By the time she got back to her senses, she heard the news that she had been selected and she grinned broadly with excitement.

After verbally thanking Miss S, she immediately returned to Jiangnan Town, where she knocked on the door and walked into Ling Yi Yao's villa to tell Ling Yi Yao the good news that she had been chosen as an opera singer.

After hearing this, Ling Yi Yao had a strange expression on her face, and under Mei Mu Lan's persistent questioning, she replied,

“Congratulations, Miss Mei, at the same time. Your co-star in this film, unfortunately, is me.”

Mei Mu Lan understood the meaning of her words and immediately jumped up and said,

“Great, you're playing the role of the Major's wife, aren't you? The casting people had a good eye, they could tell right away that we were a couple.”

Ling Yi Yao: “……”

Suddenly, Mei Mu Lan covered her mouth in shyness as she stared at Ling Yi Yao, her eyes cooing and darting about.

Ling Yi Yao suddenly felt a chill run down her spine, and she had an ominous feeling.

Sure enough, Mei Mu Lan said 'shyly' in the next moment,

“Oh, it's written that they did this and that, and the opera singer did this and that to the lady, so I can do that to you too, come on, don't be shy, let's rehearse this and that so we don't get rusty when we're acting.”

Ling Yi Yao: “……” Lifting Mei Mu Lan's collar with one hand, she threw her out the door.

#shypotato #yuri #transmigration #world hopping #QTVW24

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ashleyinwondrland · 4 years

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I rewrote the ending of PLL with A as the capital A!

So I rewrote my dream ending for Pretty Little Liars. Its stupidly long.

After Mona went to Radley, Ezra was mad about which direction the book was going in (he was obsessed) so he became A so he could control the story and found it to be more exciting than just writing. It was like he writing everyone's lives, he was the ultimate writer. Every writer wants to think their words will influence people, Ezra got to see it first hand. And he would get to write his own ending.

He used it to track down Ali and hired Charlotte, and made her think that she was actually Uber A and was the master mind when he was really pulling the strings.

He was obsessed with Aria more than the others and wanted to be able to keep her if everyone found out which is why he was slowly trying to isolate her from her friends. If he was the only one who Aria had to turn to, then he would never lose her. The perfect romantic ending, the two against the world. Romeo and Juliet but with a honeymoon.

When she found out about the book Ezra had to take a break from being A or else they would connect the two, so he hired Shana and handed the reigns over to Charlotte for awhile and orchestrated himself getting shot (tho it wasn’t aimed well) to get back in Aria’s good graces.

During the time he gave Charlotte, her working from France at first with Shana, Jenna and others doing her bidding, Charlotte became more obsessed with the power and Ezra lost control of the game. Charlotte went off the rails, and took it too far. She was writing chapters that Ezra wasn't able to edit.

He couldn't just rip out the pages of the dollhouse, the family connection or Charlotte turning herself in. She wrote an ending to the book that didn't satisfy Ezra. Even though he was now in clear of all charges, and he could technically move on, his book, his life's work was now no better than a paper back in the bargain bin at a pharmacy.

Ezra spends the next 5 years trying to recreate the magic he had with that book. Everything he writes is meaningless compared to the story that slipped out of his hands. Every bottle he drinks he prays has the answer at the bottom. But then his prayers are answered when he hears Charlotte is being released.

He realizes now it’s time to get back in the game but first he has a loose end to tie up. A perfect way to bring the game back and get rid of the person who ruined it. He called Charlotte, under the pretense of talking about bring A back. He knew the hospital would never be able to really cure her, and she took the bait. They met at the Church where only meant to push her out of the window. But once she got to bragging about being a better A than him he lost control and strangled her before tossing her out.

Now the game was his again. Which mean he would have to call on another old helper.

He had to call on the person who else who was just as invested in the girls lives and had access he didn’t (to Radley specifically). Someone who knew everything but like him had never been implicated, which is where Wren came in. Ezra knew about Wren and him flirting and kissing Spencer. So when Ezra sat down to an unsuspecting Wren they got to talking. After buying a few rounds Ezra slipped in that these Rosewood high school girls are such teases. Wren took the bait, going on about Spencer and how she was always playing him hot and cold.

Wren joined team A and gave Ezra access to whatever Radley files he needed and helped Charlotte be able to get in an out without questions. Wren also gave Ezra access to his cabin to be used for backup A head quarters just incase Ravenswood got found.

Ezra had the perfect partner in his British friend. Wren also had his own help, Melissa, who didn’t know quite what she was involved with but she knew it would protect Spencer and Ezra having found out about her burying Bethany when Melissa accidentally confessed it to Wren used it to blackmail her into becoming the Black Widow. As far as Melissa knew, Wren was also being blackmailed because he wanted to protect her and she had no idea Ezra was behind it

Jump forward to when Ezra finally got back with Aria and everyone was happy, he knew it was time to finish the game, the last chapter. Which is why he proposed to Aria and tried to rush her into getting married.

But he had to be sure he could truly trust her, over all of her friends. That if everything came out that she would side with him, even if it meant silencing her friends. He gave her the file, and tried to get her over to team A. Watching her choose him made him fall in love with her all over again. She didn't need her friends, and now he knew if something happened to them then she wouldn't fall apart. Because she had him. And he would always have her.

During the game Mona started to feel her A addiction again. She needed to focus and win this time. Her medication was just getting in the way. She went off it and started to recall things from Radley, visitors who came to see her, who came to see Charlotte, and who came to take the game away.

She doesn’t have all the pieces together when she accuses Ezra in front of everyone of being AD, and no one believes her but finding out she is off her medication they decide to get her help and don’t think twice about her accusations. She screamed they were in danger but none of them, especially Aria would listen.

Jump forward a year and Wren goes back to hospital to take care of Mona. But Wren doesn’t have the strongest will and Mona convinces him that they need her. She started the game, they needed her to end it.

Ezra and Aria are about to get married and be all happy so Ezra surprises her with a new house, the one Toby built. He told her it was poetic, that they live and love in a house their friend's love built. It was a house meant for love. Aria is so excited but what she doesn’t realize is the under ground bunker he built, where all his AD stuff is and also would be a comfy place if say your wife finds what you have been up to and you have to keep her somewhere.

Spencer goes to the brew and finds Wren there arguing with Ezra in hushed tones (about not killing Mona, leaving such a giant loose end) she had no idea they knew each other. She confronts them and they make a stupid lie about Ezra spilling coffee on Wren.

She asks Wren what he is doing in town and he just says business and tell her he has to leave but they should catch up soon. Wren, being the flip flopper that he is, still didn't know which Hastings lady he would take down to the bunker, should the time come. But seeing as Spencer was standing in front him, gorgeous as ever, he was leaning her way. Part of the deal Wren made with Ezra when he explained about the bunker was that Wren got to also bring a “friend” down. Ezra starts to get panicky, he knew Mona was out and about. He knew that she wanted the game back but he couldn't let her ruin his ending. Aria dismisses it as pre wedding jitters.

A day before the wedding Aria goes to the new house to take some pictures as reference for when she is furniture shopping and to sending little photos to her friends. Ezra suggested they not bring visitors by until after the wedding and they get some furniture. She goes out back to the tool shed, notices the ground is uneven and finds a secret door in the ground. She goes under and finds everything, but what she doesn’t know is Wren is already down there and he hits her over the head, then calls Ezra and tells him they have a problem.

Ezra planned to tell Aria everything about the book on their honeymoon and if she reacted badly was going to claim and accident happened where she goes missing but keep her in the bunker (he had practice making someone go missing) but now Aria was in the bunker and he couldn’t just let her out. He goes to the bunker where Aria is terrified and won’t go near him, he thinks she just needs time to cool down. He tells her that she will understand everything soon, and they will be happy. That if he trusts her as a writer then to trust the love story he has written for them.

He takes her phone and sends a text to everyone saying “we can’t deal with the wedding stress and our parents constantly arguing over useless things like table cloths, we decided to leave for our honeymoon and elope. I’m sorry and we love you all.”

He figures that will keep everyone busy for awhile while he tries to convince Aria to get on board, reminding her how she betrayed her friends for him and how their love story would go down in literary history. She already chose him over her friends more than once, what would make this any different.

In the mean time, the girls are hurt Aria left to get married without them but they understand, except for Spencer who feels like things don’t add up because she had spoken to Aria just a couple hours before and she was excited for the wedding. Spencer looked back through her texts with Aria and looked at one of the house pictures to realize she knew the house. Toby had built that house. She decided to go over to make sure that everything was alright.

The girls all disperse, Emily and Ali talking about how they need to get home to the girls and Hanna to see if she can refashion the bridesmaids dresses into something she can show to a client, though after they leave Spencer realizes Emily’s Fitbit fell off and sends her a text that she will hold onto it til they see each other again and put it in her pocket. Spencer gets to the house to see all the lights out. She goes up to the porch to peak in, but figures they must have left for their honeymoon. She turns to go only to come back to face with Wren, but before she can question him she feels something slam into the back of her head and everything goes black.

Spencer wakes up in a cell across from Aria, her phone missing and Ezra & Wren are just standing there, both looking concerned. Ezra apologizes for hitting her so hard. They explain they didn’t want things to work out like this, and once they calm down it is very comfortable and nice in the make shift home they built down in the bunker and when things were settled they could all move away to a much bigger place so the girls would have more room. Ezra knows that they will still have questions so he leaves them both with his manuscript, detailing all the events, with a little creative editing and with the ending that has yet to unfold.

They jump to the end and read that Ezra plans to be the hero, and pin the entire thing on Spencer, who became AD as a way to keep the girls together after realizing how much she missed them when they came back for Charlotte’s trial and used Charlotte’s death, who she killed, to keep them in Rosewood

He planned to make it seem like Spencer followed them on their honeymoon, making use of Melissa by having her getting on a plane as Spencer so they had her on the flight manifest, and tried to kill Ezra for taking Aria away while confessing she was AD and Ezra, in self defense, pushes her off the side of a cliff. Aria freaks out how the man she loved could even think about her best friend while Spencer keeps flipping through looking for clues.

Meanwhile, the others grow concerned they haven’t heard from Aria, who should’ve landed and always texts after a flight or Spencer, who wasn’t at home when they checked and wasn't answering her phone.

Mona shows up and tells them AD is back and is ready to end the game, for good and she knows at least one person helping is Wren but she doesn’t know who AD is yet. She knows if she says Ezra again they will try to throw her back in the hospital. They assume at the very least Spencer was probably kidnapped and after Caleb can’t pin point her cell phone Emily remembers Spencer has the Fitbit and maybe they can track her with that (might have to bend reality) and Caleb is able to find a location, the house Toby built. They make their way there.

Spencer and Aria try to break out, Aria manages to toss a bobby pin to Spencer. Ezra comes back asks how far they are in the book and what they think of it so far, he actually sounds genuine for their feedback. Realizing this is the only chance they might have, Aria tried to distract him by asking him questions like what will happen to Melissa after. Ezra thinks for a moment and then goes into that why they were perfect for each other, because even after everything she wants to help him with her writing. He then admits that Melissa would end up being the one he actually pushes over the cliff. While Ezra is still facing Aria, Spencer gets the lock open and uses her copy to knock him over the head though she knows he won’t be down for long so she opens Aria’s cage and they run not realizing they have no where to go.

Above ground, the others get to the house and start to look around when Toby sees the shed and mentions he didn’t build a shed. When they open the shed they see Wren inside who is starting to open the trap door who tries to make a run for it but Hanna manages to trip him and he hits his head on a rock. The guys work on tying him up while the girls look for Spencer, thinking Wren is AD and the bunker would be safe now and they come across Ezra who looks dazed and convinces them that AD kidnapped Aria and himself and that the girls have to get out of the bunker before AD comes back.

He starts to lead them out when they run into Spencer and Aria who yell that he is AD, Ezra acts quickly and grabs Ali as a hostage while pulling out a knife. He tells Ali that this whole mess started with her anyways, it should end with her.

Behind him is the sound of a gun cocking, aimed right at his head, Mona says “Actually this started with me, and I am going to be the one to finish it.”

Ezra and Wren are taken into custody, where the both face charges of extortion, stalking, kidnapping, murder, building a creepy bunker without a permit and statutory rape

The girls all agree it’s time to finally leave Rosewood, for good

I don’t get paid for it nor have years to plan it out but thats another story and please write your opinions at the very least in the tags !! Also if you add your opinion in the discussion comment thing or in your tag, a calorie free cookie is in your future !

#pretty little liars #pll #ezra is a #ezra fitz #aria montgomery #spencer hastings #hannah marin #emily fields #alison dilaurentis #ezria #wrencer #emison #anti ezria #anti wrencer #haleb

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soveryanon · 3 years

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Reviewing time for MAG191!

- Martin and Jon were sleeping together, or close to each other… Not a surprise, but eh, it’s the first time we heard them sleep!

(Sound-wise, I heard the bag jostle on multiple occasions when Martin was moving – including when he jolted awake. Does it mean he was sleeping with the bag on, ready to run away with Jon in case of sudden danger…?)

- Sobbing a bit about Martin’s bad dreams – he also had those back at the Cabin, at the beginning of the season, and Jon had pointed out, back then, that he couldn’t really sleep:

(MAG161) MARTIN: You should get some sleep. [CREAKING SOUND] ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] can’t. I–I–I can’t, I–I don’t think I do anymore… “Sleep”. [EXHALE] How long’s it been, now? MARTIN: I don’t know. It’s not like there are days to count anymore. All the clocks have stopped, and… [DISTANT HOWL] ARCHIVIST: Well, I haven’t yet. I get… tired, but it doesn’t feel the same. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] Probably for the best. Sleep doesn’t look… pleasant. MARTIN: Nnno, it’s… it’s not. ARCHIVIST: I couldn’t wake you. […] MARTIN: Well, just as well I don’t remember my dreams. ARCHIVIST: I do. MARTIN: Uh– What? ARCHIVIST: They… I see most of the suffering around here. When it’s quiet, it just… it’s like… I can see it, like I’m watching all of it.

(MAG191) [SOME AGITATION MOVEMENTS, AND MARTIN AWAKES WITH A START] MARTIN: … eh, eh, EH! Eh! [BAG JOSTLING] … Wh… [LOUD BREATHS] … Jon? [TURNS OVER TO CHECK] [SURPRISED] Ah, argh! Stop it! Jon! [THE ARCHIVIST WAKES UP] ARCHIVIST: [MUZZILY] Mm, what? What? […] Bad dream? MARTIN: Is there any other kind? ARCHIVIST: Fair.

That was a bittersweet throwback… Is it because of the overall anxiety? Is it because it’s another way the Fears prey on people? Jon introduced the domains as “nightmares”, at first – it’s quite interesting that actual nightmares still exist in a place that is semi-protected from the rest of the world.

With the parallel with the Cabin, I’m once again wondering whether the tunnels are a kind of domain on their own, and feeding from people in a different way…? We seem to be getting the same situation of Martin suffering from nightmares while Jon doesn’t sleep normally, and back then, they hadn’t been aware (at first) that the Cabin was actually trapping them and preying on them…

- First time Martin mentioned that he’s aware of Jon’s dreams, I think?

(MAG191) MARTIN: Speaking of, how are your dreams? [INHALE] I know they used to be… y’know, complicated. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. I don’t really remember them anymore. Honestly, it’s not… really even sleep these days? I can only do it when I’m disconnected from… well, everything, and i–it’s more like… You know that feeling when you’re right on the edge of falling asleep? Not quite dreaming but not aware of stuff either? MARTIN: Huh! So, like, standby mode then? ARCHIVIST: [SOFT LAUGH] I suppose!

He was aware that Jess Tyrell was seeing Jon in her dreams, but I don’t recall any mention of Jon’s own dreams – Daisy and Jon had discussed about it and Basira knew it would happen with Floyd, but Martin hadn’t been around in season 4. Did Jon explain it to him when they eloped to Scotland (or at some point during season 5), or did Martin listen to Elias’s tape from MAG120 describing Jon’s dreams?

I had wondered about Jon’s victims and dreams in season 5, too! We’ve seen with Jordan that having given Jon a statement didn’t give them a special status in the apocalypse, nor did it get them stuck all together in a specific domain – Jordan was stuck in a Corruption one, for example. (Is it because technically, in the apocalypse, everyone is beheld by Jon in a way?)

- Rare confirmation of something being visibly off with Jon and having to do with eyes!

(MAG191) MARTIN: It’s fine, I was… I was just startled. ARCHIVIST: Hm…? MARTIN: We’ve not been many places you can sleep, so I– ARCHIVIST: So, what? MARTIN: You were sleeping with your eyes open again. ARCHIVIST: Ah… Right. MARTIN: [SIGH] J–just… took me by surprise. […] Oh, you’d… just completely conk out. Eyes open, obviously, ‘cos god forbid the creepy ever stops entirely, heh! But– ARCHIVIST: Thank you. MARTIN: –you’d… just be dead to the world. I actually got a bit worried, once or twice, but… you always woke up fine. … You said you didn’t dream. You sounded pretty happy about it too. ARCHIVIST: I imagine I was…!

So, Jon keeps his eyes open when sleeping, used to also do that at Salesa’s… so even with his connection with The Eye cut, a few oddities remain.

The description of Jon as in “standby” with his eyes open is a tinyyy bit terrifying indeed (doll just waiting to move again?), and probably very sad for Martin… after Jon’s “coma” following season 3, when his heart wasn’t beating. Since we’ve heard Martin beg for Jon to wake up (and he did admit that he felt like he had lost “everything” back then), there is something absolutely heartwrenching in the idea of Martin seeing Jon unmoving, and probably thinking Jon has died or is gone in a way, again…? (We’ve heard with the beginning of the episode that Martin’s reaction was to panic over it, indeed ;;)

- Aaah, Jon asking again about details of what happened at Upton House was so precious and sad…

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

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: … What was I like at Salesa’s?

And it’s nice that Jon asked Martin information about Upton to be able to make the comparison with the tunnels. There is a form of trust, asking Martin to recall those things?

- And the concept of ~remembering~ was Martin’s cue to confirm that Celia was indeed Lynne!

(MAG191) MARTIN: [FAINT CHUCKLE] … Hey, I… [BAG JOSTLING] I meant to ask. Do you recognise that woman, Celia? ARCHIVIST: Hum… no, I, I don’t… think so – why? MARTIN: I… I’d swear she gave a statement once. ARCHIVIST: What statement? I don’t… remember anything. Wh… Not down here at least.

Later, the episode answered a question I got at this point: given Jon’s inability to remember Lynne at all, did it mean that Jon hadn’t listened to her statement, or that he had trouble remembering because of the tunnels interfering with his connection with The Eye? But later, Jon did remember about MAG053’s statement, so it really does sound like he hadn’t listened to Lynne’s statement at all and couldn’t remember it through mundane means (while he might have been able to “know” about her if he had been outside, without the tunnels’ protection). It’s curious, since season 3 had made a point that Jon was listening to “all he tapes” including recordings by the other assistants:

(MAG113) MARTIN: I mean… it wasn’t actually paranoia, though, was it? Because, they were out to get you. ARCHIVIST: I suppose that they were. MELANIE: Wasn’t a great time back here, either. ARCHIVIST: Oh, god, Melanie, of course. I’m… I’m sorry. If I’d known that Ivy Meadows was– MELANIE: What?! You’d have told me? Let me learn from one of your statements instead of from Elias? I don’t see that changing anything. ARCHIVIST: Even so, I… am… I’m sorry.

(MAG114) TIM: … You listened to it, then? My statement. ARCHIVIST: I listened to all the tapes. I, I had no idea how much of a… a mess I left this place in, I–I–I’m sorry. TIM: Bit of an invasion of privacy. ARCHIVIST: I assume that’s a joke?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E–except Elias, obviously, that’s not–, I mean… I’ve listened to the tapes. [DRY CHUCKLE] I’ve listened to the tape! I–I know what they talk about behind my back, how much they’ve… suffered, because of… [INHALE] this place… because of me. … God. Poor Melanie…

Was it because Lynne’s tape was mislabelled (since Martin thought it was probably a fake story)? Was it because something hid that specific tape from Jon…?

Additional detail: at that point in time (MAG100), it means that Martin couldn’t tell whether live statements were true or not! Sasha hadn’t sounded surprised when Jon had told her he could feel whether some were “real” ones or not, back in MAG039, but it’s interesting that in season 3, Elias had basically given over the statements-reading over to the assistants “to make up for the shortfall”, and yet they were apparently still unable to evaluate whether it was a real statement or not. (They did feel the consequences, however! Martin and Melanie commented about the toll it took on them.)

- Martin’s summary of Lynne’s statement, though.

(MAG191) MARTIN: It was… [MUMBLES SOMETHING SOFTLY] … I thought she was making stuff up! Heh! I gave her some money. ARCHIVIST: Why? MARTIN: Sh–she asked. ARCHIVIST: R–right.

We know, Martin. We know, it was so painful to listen to.

(MAG100) LYNNE: I mean, just, just, my friend Gav said that, y’know, you guys… you need stories, and you need people to come forward, so… MARTIN: Yeah, yeah… LYNNE: And you… kind of… You pay up people for their ghost stories, so… MARTIN: Oh! Er, ah… [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] I, I think there might be a bit of a, er, er, mis–miscommunication here– LYNNE: Oh! Oh, right, okay. MARTIN: Yeah. Yeah… We don’t actually, um… er, we don’t pay for, pay for statements. LYNNE: Right. MARTIN: This is, this is more, a, er, documenting process than… er, we don’t use these for, um, for stuff outside of– LYNNE: Okay. MARTIN: –r–r–records. Ahh. I’m really sorry. Er… LYNNE: Oh. I mean, I mean, that’s why I– Er, no, y’know, okay, but that’s fine. [MOMENTS OF EMBARRASSED MUMBLINGS] MARTIN: Er… Um… Y’know what… Sorry. Um. Let’s see what I’ve got… [MOURNFUL SOUNDS OF MARTIN’S LOOSE CHANGE] I mean, I’ve got… I mean… get a coffee, I… LYNNE: Y’know what? You’re, you’re all right. MARTIN: No, no, please, please? I… LYNNE: Oh, all right. MARTIN: Y’know, er… LYNNE: Thanks, thanks. MARTIN: … like, like a macchiato, or… LYNNE: Mm. MARTIN: I mean, maybe not that much. LYNNE: Okay, so, um… Just the way out… [TRANSFER OF COINS] MARTIN: Yeah. LYNNE: … The way I came in? MARTIN: Yeah, please. If that’s… yeah.

I love that Jon sounded at an absolute loss about Martin’s summary of the situation. (Also, Martin: she didn’t really ask. You were made aware of the misunderstanding, and you offered the money to make up for it.)

- Indeed, Celia/Lynne has lost her memory and didn’t sound like she had recognised Martin:

(MAG190) CELIA: Sorry. We haven’t been introduced. You are…? GEORGIE: Oh, hum, of course. Sorry. This is… ARCHIVIST: Jonathan. Jon. Sims. MARTIN: Uh, Martin. Hello, eh! GEORGIE: And… this is Laverne. LAVERNE: Good to meet you. GEORGIE: And Celia. MARTIN: [PUZZLED] “Celia”? CELIA: Probably. The, hum… place I was trapped in, they took my name, I never got it back. But, I like Celia, so… yeah! Celia it is. MARTIN: Uh… H–hello… Celia…!

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: … Do you think she remembers? MARTIN: I, I mean… she doesn’t seem to remember her own name, so… I’m guessing… no? ARCHIVIST: You could ask! MARTIN: Well, no, that’d just be weird, I mean– [SOFT WOODEN KNOCKING ON A DOOR, TWO KNOCKS] Hello?

And I can’t pinpoint whether that will lead to something more or not! Is it just a point that domains can impact people even after they’ve been liberated from them? Is it because her tape will resurface? Is it because Lynne’s statement was especially plot-relevant somehow? (The fire ghost woman she had spotted obviously put Agnes to mind… except Agnes didn’t die and never lived (as far as we know) in Clapton, where Lynne had spotted the ghost – and she wasn’t pursued by said ghost after moving out, so it sounded like it was tied to her old flat…)

- There has been so much knocking since Jon&Martin joined the tunnels! It feels a bit like it’s compensating for the rest of season 5 – previously, most of the episodes were taking place in Jon’s office, so there was knocking here and there… but not that much in season 5, except with Helen.

On the one hand: it’s ~polite to knock~. On the other hand: it’s a bit anxiety-inducing, both because knocking around Jon is a perpetual reminder of Mr Spider and because it feels like it would be soooo easy for one of the others to eavesdrop on Jon&Martin’s conversations, and what would they think of it? Would they deem Jon&Martin dangerous?

- Speaking of survivors having been deeply affected by the domains… ouft, Unnamed.

(MAG191) MARTIN: I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Martin, this is Jon. [RUSTLING AND SOUNDS OF BAG OPENING AS THEY START MOVING AROUND] ARCHIVIST: Hello. UNNAMED: [SUSPICIOUS] Right… MARTIN: And you are…? UNNAMED: [FIRMLY] No! MARTIN: “No”? A–as in your name’s No? UNNAMED: No, as in “you don’t get to know my name”. I’m not stupid. ARCHIVIST: Is that so? UNNAMED: Names are how they see you. They’re how they find you in the files. You can hide all you want, but if they know your name… they can see you. And take you away. ARCHIVIST: I see. UNNAMED: I tell people my name, then maybe they learn it. Then they come for all of us. You shouldn’t have told me yours, I keep telling the others! Only the prophet names are safe.

So: still applying the logic of the domains she had been trapped in to the rest of the world. I’ve seen a lot of speculation about it, but I don’t feel like her description matched the Archives that much – it could be anything else, really? Her description was a bit reminiscent of Spiral stuff (MAG065: “The angles cut me when I try to think.”) and, overall, the Archives never seemed to have a huge focus on “names” as instruments of power over people (+ Laverne has been the oldest of the survivors: if the others who had been lost had indeed been taken back through their names, she would have exerted caution too)… So mostly, I saw Unnamed’s story and behaviour as another demonstration of how the survivors cope, after these traumatic events – in this case, still applying the logic of her domain, even after escaping it, to the point of hiding parts of herself to others.

;; Still worried about the cultist bits towards Georgie&Melanie: everyone seems to be projecting what they want and hope for from them… and it’s clearly unsustainable.

- Unnamed and Jon snapping at each other about their understanding of how things work huuuurt, but was also scratching an itch:

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: That’s not how it works! MARTIN: [WARNING] Jon… ARCHIVIST: What? She’s talking complete rubbish! UNNAMED: Have you been there, then? Have you fled through the endless cabinets, the… the labels that cut you? The things that “put you in your place”? ARCHIVIST: No… UNNAMED: So you don’t know! ARCHIVIST: But I’ve seen it! I know it. UNNAMED: Oh, you “know it”, do you? Did it bleed you? ARCHIVIST: No, but that’s not actually– UNNAMED: Then you don’t know it. And you’re not getting my name. ARCHIVIST: … Fine. … Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.

It was very “early series Jon” to argue like this! The difference between Jon being able to “see” and “know”… but Unnamed accusing him of not truly understanding it, because he had not experienced it like she did, was a nice touch? We’re used to seeing Jon as the Archivist, who goes through other people’s experiences and experiences their fears, but I’m not sure it’s still something he fundamentally does in season 5; he witnesses, he understands, he feeds from the pain, but is it a terror he experiences as such, does Beholding still feeds from Jon’s vicarious process? Is it the same understanding and experience, between Jon who knows and feeds from it, and from someone who was actively tortured by it and still has to suffer from the effects of it? And regardless of the answers: I do understand Unnamed’s annoyance that someone who admitted he had not been trapped in her domain would know about how bad it was, when she still had to deal with the consequences and lasting ptsd afterwards.

- I love how Unnamed was a bit brusque, refused the social niceties of exchanging names… and wasn’t especially mean overall. It was just one thing she feared, and one thing to respect about her. She offered food and explained how things worked!

(MAG191) UNNAMED: [SIGH] Would you like some food? We have… tins. And biscuits. Although the biscuits are really old. MARTIN: What’s in the “tins”? UNNAMED: Food. MARTIN: [IRRITATED] What food? UNNAMED: Depends. Most of the labels are gone! Yesterday, I got black beans. MARTIN: Oh, right. And that’s… good? UNNAMED: Mm–hmm! […] Are you coming? MARTIN: Yes, yes! Lead the way… you? UNNAMED: Of course.

And she warned them about the biscuits. Those ones were from Leitner’s stash, probably?

- The little panic when Jon heard that Georgie&Melanie were “gone”… Though it had already been pointed out that they tended to isolate for a while.

(MAG190) CELIA: [SIGH] [ANXIOUS] I don’t like it. They’ve been gone too long. LAVERNE: They’re fine. Sometimes they take a while. It’s hardly the longest they’ve been gone, is it? […] Besides! You know that they sometimes go to a side tunnel for “private contemplation”. I think it’s sweet. CELIA: [PETULANT] They can contemplate privately here…! LAVERNE: Can they? There’s not exactly many doors down here. CELIA: No, I guess… […] MELANIE: [SIGH] It’s why we head out so much. Sometimes we actually are scouting, or gathering, but half the time… I just need to get away. [INHALE] If I didn’t have Georgie, I think I might just snap and beat them all to death…

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] So… Georgie and Melanie, a–are they…? UNNAMED: They’re gone. ARCHIVIST: Wh…? UNNAMED: Out. They, they often go out. Sometimes they bring people back, but usually they just… go, for a while.

Melanie needing her Alone Time, uh.

- Still with that vocabulary of Georgie&Melanie having their own “path”…

(Season 5 Act III Trailer) UNNAMED: They haven’t been gone long. ARUN: You know they walk the path. No harm can come to them. CELIA: I know, I just… I…! [FRUSTRATED SIGH]

(MAG190) LAVERNE: Celia… just trust them. “They walk this world above the nightmare. It will not take them.”

(MAG191) MARTIN: O…kay, eh! Do you know when they’ll be back? UNNAMED: No. They walk their own path.

- I wonder what is up with Jon…

(MAG189) ARCHIVIST: [BROKENLY] I do not, I– … I’m just feeling a little bit woozy, all right? I–I can’t quite think straight, like at, hum… Oh, M–Martin, y–you remember?

(MAG190) GEORGIE: Martin said you knew everything now. ARCHIVIST: Not everything. [INHALE] Between the tunnels, and your and Melanie’s… position relative to The Eye… I’m a bit in the dark, here. […] GEORGIE: Look. We’re all tired, and you still seem a little… disoriented by the tunnels. Let’s get some rest. We can talk about next moves tomorrow.

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Any chance you could bring me something back? I’m… feeling a little bit shaky. MARTIN: Do you need to make a statement? ARCHIVIST: Actually… no, I… I haven’t since we got down here…! I suppose it must be the tunnels. Nice to be a bit more… in control, although… it does feel… odd.

Was Martin’s question about the need to “make a statement” the right one? In season 5, Jon “makes statement” indeed: they pour out like an excess, because he’s surrounded by suffering and has to do this to not be overwhelmed. But Jon saying he feels “shaky”, being weak and tired… actually sounds like his old withdrawal symptoms when he needed to read or take a statement – not “make”. Is it what he would theoretically need, right now…? Or will the mundane food do the trick…? I’m still wondering whether he’s actually feeding from people’s fears of being thrown back into their domains, at the moment…

It’s also the second time that Jon mentioned feeling more “in control”, although in an absolutely different situation:

(MAG164) MARTIN: You’ve been knowing a lot lately. ARCHIVIST: … Yes. MARTIN: A lot more than you used to. ARCHIVIST: Y… [SIGH] Yeah. And it, it feels more… deliberate. L–like I have more control now.

Back at the start of the season, because he was more powerful; right now, because he has less access to his powers.

- Progress! Martin accepted the likelihood of beans, this time.

(MAG190) MARTIN: Oh, food, eh! What’s on the menu? LAVERNE: Cold baked beans. MARTIN: … Maybe later.

(MAG191) UNNAMED: Depends. Most of the labels are gone! Yesterday, I got black beans. MARTIN: Oh, right. And that’s… good? UNNAMED: Mm–hmm!

- I’m DELIGHTED that Arun and Martin met alone, what a DISASTER! Also, another tape recorder spawning and clicking on on its own, and it was explicitly said that Arun was bringing that one with him (it’s sometimes unclear who is carrying them). It was kinda cute that Arun identified the strange new object as potentially belonging to the strange newcomers.

That whole exchange *screams*

(MAG191) ARUN: [INHALE] Uh… Martin? MARTIN: Yeah? Oh, s–sorry, I, I… didn’t catch you name. ARUN: Arun. MARTIN: Hi, Arun. What’s up? ARUN: Sorry, ju–, hum, just, hum… did you lose a tape recorder? I found this… Oh… Huh. MARTIN: Yeah, it wasn’t on when you found it, right? ARUN: No, uh… MARTIN: [SLIGHT CHUCKLE] ARUN: Is it yours? I haven’t seen it before, I thought it might be. MARTIN: Kind of, I guess? They follow us around a bit. ARUN: … Really? MARTIN: Oh, y–you don’t need to worry! It’s been happening for ages, b–before the world changed, even. You can just ignore them. ARUN: Since before the end? MARTIN: Yeah, it’s… it’s kind of a long story.

Big reminder that the tape recorders have been following Jon&Martin around for a while, that it’s not normal (although they’ve long got used to it). With this scene, and Jon pointing out to Georgie that yes, the tape recorders were mostly invested in him and Martin last episode, it feels like we’re getting close to an answer about what they are and why they record some things and not others?

- I like how, yeah, Arun was plain annoying from the start and clearly the most vocal about the cult aspect… but also not stupid:

(MAG191) MARTIN: Yeah, it’s… it’s kind of a long story. Ask the prophets, if you want, they’ll explain. [MARTIN TURNS AND STEPS AWAY] ARUN: You don’t believe in them, do you? In their power? MARTIN: I… knew them in the old days. ARUN: So did Laverne…! MARTIN: Yeah, I, I realise that, just– … Look, it’s complicated, okay? It’s just a big pile of stuff that no-one understands. ARUN: [POINTEDLY] I understand they are able to walk through this world without fear or danger. MARTIN: [EXHALES HIS IRRITATION] ARUN: I understand they saved us.

He did pick up on Martin not being convinced, and as Laverne had pointed out… the cult seems to be a way to make sense of the world; their only personal gain, with it, is to not give up to despair. Obvious, it’s bad to project and to pour their hopes into Melanie&Georgie, to delude themselves about their powers and pseudo-significance! But fundamentally, it’s about hurt and broken people trying to cling to something that gives them hope, and which is constructed on a few lies. It’s just sad.

- Kudos to Martin for sensing that anything he could say would potentially backfire, though.

(MAG191) MARTIN: Ask the prophets, if you want, they’ll explain. […] Look, you, you should really talk to them about it, okay? I… don’t want to say the wrong thing.

But really, that was the WORST possible interaction ever.

(MAG191) MARTIN: [NOISES OF DISBELIEF] Okay! Well… You’re rude. ARUN: I’m a poet. I speak the truth! MARTIN: Yeah? Well… your truth is rude!

Martin, until now identified as ~the poet~, and likely not ever thinking he was saying the truth. (I do wonder whether Arun was absolutely serious about it… or actually playful about it?)

Overall, it was awful, I loved it, and it also hurt since Arun was insufferable and at the same time kiiiinda made a few potentially accurate points about Jon&Martin – from their behaviour, it does sound like they’ve been looking down on the survivors for their beliefs:

(MAG190) MELANIE: [INHALE] If I didn’t have Georgie, I think I might just snap and beat them all to death… MARTIN: Sounds like they’d probably thank you for your wisdom, if you did that. MELANIE: [CHUCKLE] … Stop. We shouldn’t talk about them like this, they, they are good people. MARTIN: Sure. MELANIE: It’s just… hard not to look down on people when they put you up on a pedestal like that!

(MAG191) ARUN: I know you look at us like we’re idiots. MARTIN: [SNORT] ARUN: You pity us…! MARTIN: That’s not true. ARUN: Liar!

Plainly, because Jon&Martin didn’t like it. And it’s understandable! But still. It’s just people who’ve been hurt, all around.

- At the very least, Arun had a point when he questioned what Jon&Martin were, why they had come, why the tape recorders were specifically following them:

(MAG191) ARUN: Liar! [RAISED VOICE] Who are you? MARTIN: [EXASPERATED SIGH] ARUN: Just appearing from nowhere with… phantom tape recorders just scuttling in your wake? Why are you here?

I’m eyeing a LOT that description of the tape recorders as “scuttling”, which has been a very spidery term in the series………………… (Ghost spiders, ghost spiders.)

- Congrats to Martin for getting another tape recorder.

(MAG191) MARTIN: [AGITATED] We’re here to save the world! Okay? Right? If you want more than that… go ask your prophets, okay? Now just… give me that…! [GRABS RECORDER] [CLICK.]

Accumulating a collection by himself, uh?

- I don’t know what to expect from the cultists/survivors! I feel like right now, they do fulfil a clear role and make a few points: they show us how the domains impacted and wounded normal people, and how these traumatised people interact with the world afterwards. Some have lost parts of themselves and are constantly anxious (Celia). Some are a bit paranoid, still apply the logic of domains to the world even if it means hiding parts of themselves from others (Unnamed). Some resort to religious beliefs, trying to find meaning and leaders afterwards (Arun). It wouldn’t have been this powerful if Jon had described these reactions as hypotheticals, or if Melanie&Georgie had described the people they had saved – we indeed needed to see the survivors themselves, a few of their own thoughts and behaviours, to truly appreciate it.

It could be serving as a glimpse at what would/will happen to the world if Jon&Martin manage to banish the Fears – it wouldn’t be a reset, people would still remember and feel the consequences of the terrible things they have suffered from. It could also be preparing something on a lower scale, the survivors panicking and turning on Jon&Martin, taking a risk and actually dooming them all… but I don’t know, I’m feeling that one less and less? I do feel the tension, it sure feels like something is ready to snap, but the tension itself serves a few purposes already (showing how Jon&Martin have some trouble interacting with other people, how it’s hard for everyone since they’re all carrying heavy baggage). What I’m expecting is that Melanie&Georgie might finally admit that they lied about the vision, but I’m not even sure that this would lead to something absolutely awful? (Outside of the survivors being crushed.)

(- What I’m especially curious about, re:Arun… is that he’s the only one of the four from the trailer who hasn’t spilled anything about the kind of place he was trapped in. Celia had her name taken from her (and apparently a few bits of herself); Laverne was in a Spiral maze; Unnamed was in a place that was forcing her to try and fit where she couldn’t fit. But as of now, we know nothing about Arun’s experience: it’s also why I’m pretty willing to give him the benefits of the doubt, and not expect something actively malicious or sinister from him – mostly expecting him to be another wounded person trying to cope.)

- Martin brought back “TinsTM” /o/ Martin immediately summarising the general feeling:

(MAG191) (MAG191) [DOOR OPENS] ARCHIVIST: Any sign of them? [TINS ARE PLACED DOWN] MARTIN: No, but… the others say it’s pretty normal for them to be gone this long. ARCHIVIST: Right… [CUTLERY SOUNDS] MARTIN: That said, the, uh… “locals” are getting restless. ARCHIVIST: Mm. MARTIN: I–I get the impression our welcome isn’t exactly… unconditional.

… was giving the impression that yep, next episode, they’ll try to leave already, that they can’t really stay any longer.

- Worried about Jon’s state, since he was already feeling fuzzy although they had juuuust arrived. Martin found that it was comparatively better than at Salesa’s, but at the same time, they have just arrived in the tunnels…

(MAG191) MARTIN: How’s the, uh… fuzziness? ARCHIVIST: … It’s alright. Comes and goes. MARTIN: Yeah, you don’t seem as bad as you were at Salesa’s. Hopefully you won’t forget everything as soon as you leave the tunnels…! ARCHIVIST: I don’t… think I will, it was worse there. Though, you know, obviously… MARTIN: You– ARCHIVIST: I– MARTIN&ARCHIVIST: –don’t remember…! [SILENCE]

Jon&Martin being intimate and ending the sentence, almost like it’s a joke… ;w;

- That’s indeed a lot of pressure:

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: So, what do you think? You reckon they’re going to help? MARTIN: [INHALE] I mean… they’ve got to, right? You, you’re basically humanity’s only hope! [CHUCKLE] ARCHIVIST: Oh, I mean… Okay, hum… [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] I hadn’t really… MARTIN: Oh, so–sorry! That’s probably a bit too much pressure, yeah? ARCHIVIST: A, a bit?

And SOB, because it reminded me of The Unknowing and the subsequent crushing realisations:

(MAG093) GEORGIE: Jonathan Sims, are you trying to save the world? ARCHIVIST: I… Yeah. I… I guess I am.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: So, I–I guess… some time in the next few days, I go on a… [NERVOUS CHUCKLE] commando mission to blow up a wax museum. … It’s not exactly what I was expecting. Fro–from an archiving job.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives…

(MAG150) ARCHIVIST: What about The Unknowing? We, we saved the world! MELANIE: Did we? I… I mean, I–I think it was the right thing to do, but how many people were killed to do it? We, we weren’t even a neutral party; we did it as agents of The Eye, because Elias told us to.

The last few times Jon had thought he was the only one able to save the world, it turned out that the world wouldn’t have been destroyed in the first place – the rituals wouldn’t have worked. It might still be a bit hard to even try to believe that they can save the world, now…

- Aouch that in the middle of uncertainties, Jon was at least sure of Georgie’s thought-process:

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. [INHALE] I know how Georgie gets about people in her care. If she thinks helping us will endanger them… MARTIN: [INHALE] Yeah. Melanie too. ARCHIVIST: Mm.

… because he was familiar with both sides of it. Georgie had been ride-or-die with him when she sheltered him in season 3, protecting him from the police; she also rejected him when she identified him as a potential danger. And right now, Jon isn’t in her care anymore, unlike the survivors, so… he can guess whom she would prioritise.

- So the tunnels have changed again!

(MAG191) MARTIN: … And you’re sure we can’t… find the way up on our own? ARCHIVIST: Probably not. [INHALE] I’m cut off down here, and the layout seems… different to before.

Jon had mentioned multiple times that he had trouble orientating himself in the tunnels, that his connection was dimmed:

(MAG114) BASIRA: Don’t think either of us like it down here. ARCHIVIST: Uh, well, no, me neither. Feels… DAISY: Empty. ARCHIVIST: Yeah.

(MAG152) ARCHIVIST: … I’ve been wondering what they were doing down here. Though they must have been down here for… weeks, months maybe; spreading, growing. They could have spread all the way through these tunnels, but they didn’t. They didn’t find Leitner down here, didn’t find… Gertrude’s body. Didn’t find… whatever else is here. HELEN: It is a maze. One of the reasons I like it. ARCHIVIST: Mm. [SILENCE] … I can’t see things properly here. I thought it was just me, something interfering with my connection to The Eye, but… I’m wondering. Maybe it affects everything else. Like this place is some kind of… “universal blind spot”. Everyone gets lost, down here.

So it’s not a surprise that it’s still the case.

- YIKES about the fact that The Eye had been calling for Jon?!

(MAG191) MARTIN: The Eye isn’t, like… calling you, or something? ARCHIVIST: Oh, no i–it is. But I can’t get a… clear reading on it down here, i–it’s kind of maddening, actually? Like… being on a street you almost remember but… can’t find on a map.

Jon, you hadn’t said!! Was it a thing since MAG162, when Jon decided to leave the cabin?

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC RISES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” […] No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! MARTIN: W–wow, okay… ARCHIVIST: But, when I thought it… the–there was… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] There was something else. Th–this place, it… it didn’t want me, it… [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] didn’t want us to go.

I’m having feelings over Jon exposing it as a very background thing, that he’s apparently been fighting/resisting without making it obvious. Jon…

(And: is it The Eye? Or is it……… Elias……………… since he had “called” for Jon to allow him to reach the Panopticon………. and Fanshawe’s letter had also “called” to Jon in MAG127………)

- So Jon&Martin need a guide in the tunnels; Laverne already had gone to have a look at the “stairs” according to the trailer (and Melanie&Georgie will decide to help at the end of the episode)… I wonder who will guide them, since there are multiple candidates?

- Screaming in Archivists.

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Yeah, but… [SIGH] Without a guide, we could be wandering a long time. And apparently, there are things wandering about there as well that… might put up some resistance. MARTIN: Yeah. Laverne mentioned. Do you know what they are? ARCHIVIST: Yep! [INHALE] They’re, hum… They’re Archivists. MARTIN: … Come again?

* GODSDAMNIT.

* Zombies. We’re getting basically zombies in the tunnels.

* Martin’s reaction was Me.

* I’m not absolutely sure that the Archivists = Watchers mentioned in the trailer? The way they had been introduced, the Watchers sounded more like guardians, or at least stationary:

(Season 5 Act III Trailer) LAVERNE: No. But… there were more watchers. CELIA: What do you mean “more”? There’s two, one each side! LAVERNE: Not anymore. I didn’t get a good look, but… there must have been four, or five.

But here Jon describes the Archivists as “wandering”. Have they begun to move around with his arrival, or are those two different things?

- The lore!! We’re getting lore!!

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Did you ever listen to Gertrude’s interview with, uh, Sergeant Heller? MARTIN: Oh, pff…! That’s a blast from the past. Uh… I think so? Uh… World War Two, right? Under Alexandria? Saw some monster with a wei– … ARCHIVIST: Mm–hmm. MARTIN: … eye. Right. ARCHIVIST: I’m not the first Archivist. Not by a long way. Most of the others died like Gertrude, but some… lingered. And, well… let’s just say I’m not the only one that feels the Panopticon calling.

* It’s interesting that Martin could remember this tape since… it was one from Jon’s hidden stash in season 2 (since he was hiding from his “official” tapes that he had a deal with Basira and was investigating Gertrude’s murder through her, and later Daisy). It’s not new, since Martin had told Daisy in MAG142 that he had listened to her statement about her colleague who disappeared into the Coffin (MAG061’s), and that one had been given when Daisy brought one of Gertrude’s tapes to Jon – so that recording would have gone in the secret stash too. Still, interesting to hear that Martin did get his hands on all these unofficial tapes at some point? Jon, you didn’t hide them well.

* Martin, you have a good memory!

* ;; So Gertrude had been right about the creature being an old Archivist…

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: Regardless, I have further follow-up of my own to do. My biggest concern right now is whatever creature Mr Heller encountered down there. It was… 56 years ago. But if it’s still alive, I should be careful. What was it? A guardian of some sort or perhaps… perhaps it too was… once an Archivist.

* Gertrude had blown that place up:

(MAG053) GERTRUDE: And… did you replace the grate? WALTER: The– The– The– the what? GERTRUDE: The bronze grate, over the entrance to the Archive. Did you replace it when you fled? WALTER: Oh, yeah, yes… Yes, I think I did. […] GERTRUDE: Thank you, Walter. Now. Uh, I– I need to check some maps with you, but I don’t think we need that on tape. Are you all right here for now? […] ARCHIVIST: Mr Heller died from a stroke in 2004, making follow-up on this tape… difficult. I’ve found a news article from March 1998, six months after this statement was taken. It reports an explosion in Alexandria, which destroyed several buildings in the vicinity of Pompey’s Pillar, and killed 17 people. Official investigation determined it to be a gas mains explosion, but… I wonder. Gertrude Robinson is not who I thought she was.

So unless that “only” sealed the creature into its underground hideout, that one Archivist from Alexandria was likely killed/destroyed and not part of the party here. (Think about it, you linger for centuries and centuries, and you fail to survive for the last twenty years before the apocalypse. Close call!)

* I wonder if the guardian of Johann von Würtemberg’s tomb also came to the Institute, or if it had been neutralised…

* Jonah had mentioned that the “Archivist” role was an old one…

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “You see, the role of Archivist has been part of The Beholding for as far back as my research can go. This isn’t uncommon for the Powers: most of the beliefs around them are guesswork and fallible human interpretation, but there are certain… throughlines and consistencies that can be spotted, regardless of the trappings.”

And I still wonder: how come this one is working roughly the same? With the avatars we’ve met, their powers manifested mostly how they felt they should; but Jon didn’t know anything about it, and yet ended up with the same powers as Gertrude (compulsion, the dreams) as part of the function, and that’s something rather unique? Elias’s Beholding powers are extremely different, and were tailored to his own experience with the Panopticon, for example; avatars of The Eye are not fundamentally Archivists. How does one become an “Archivist”?

- I can’t believe that YET AGAIN, these lines from Elias found a way to feel even crueller:

(MAG092) ELIAS: … You’re worried about ending up like that thing, lurking in the dirt under the streets of Alexandria? Don’t be. Just do what you need to do, and you’ll be fine. Understood?

Because: as an Archivist, barring premature death, Jon would have absolutely ended up like that creature. But the point was for Jon to not be like the other ones – and to indeed be Elias’s “Archives”, serving for his ritual… and thus leading to Jon’s different status in the apocalypse.

- I think this is the first time since MAG160 that Jon has identified himself as an “Archivist”? In season 4, he was using the title when introducing the statement (“Jonathan Sims, the Archivist.”) but, due to the nature of the statements in season 5, it’s not something we’ve been hearing anymore. He’s been called various titles by other avatars, but didn’t use it himself… and it’s a bit reassuring that he’s still including himself amongst the “Archivists”, and NOT presenting himself as an “Archive” – like Jonah had described him in his letter. (MAG160: “Because the thing about the Archivist is that… well: it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named “the Archive”. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, Jon – you are a record of fear. Both in mind, as you walk the shuddering dread of each statement; and in body, as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror.”)

- é_è Martin finally asking the question that he had begun to ask at Upton House…

(MAG181) MARTIN: Yeah, but if… [INHALE] If you’re that connected, that… dependent, what happens if we actually, y’know, do manage to– ARCHIVIST: We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, I just need us to be moving on. MARTIN: Hm…

(MAG186) ALSO MARTIN: I’m saying there aren’t any easy solutions. We have no idea what’s going to happen. Even if we make it to the tower, we don’t know there’ll be a fix. And if by some miracle there is, we both know the price will be awful. […] Jon’s as bad as we are. He wouldn’t let it happen. MARTIN: It’s not his decision. ALSO MARTIN: Fine. So flip that round, then. What are you going to do when he tries to sacrifice himself, because you know he’s going to try? MARTIN: I don’t know all right? [SIGH] I don’t know. ALSO MARTIN: And that’s okay for now, but I just want us to have thought about this stuff properly before it comes up. Because even if that’s not it, chances are it’ll be something else you don’t want to do, and we need to make a proper choice. We can’t just react out of shame or fear or whatever.

(MAG191) MARTIN: … Jon. If… When we defeat The Eye, the Fears… What happens to you? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Nothing good. I think it depends on what actually happens. If we figure out a way to defeat them, banish them somehow, kick them out of our reality and back to where they came from, I might… survive? I think I’d stay more or less like this; w–weaker, but fundamentally… still an avatar in a world where the Fears are… once again lurking on the edges. MARTIN: … But I assume that’s the best case scenario? ARCHIVIST: Depends on your point of view, I guess. In the long term all we’d have done is… bought some more time. … If, however, we… find a way to destroy or, uh… eliminate the Powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s… too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just… die. Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know.

* I like that Jon still pointed out to Martin that what he wanted to label as the “best case scenario” (where Jon could still manage through statements like before) would still be horrible depending on the person answering: Jon had just exposed that it would be a world like before… so still a world with people getting hurt and losing loved ones. (And it would also be a world where the apocalypse already happened once: there could be other Jonahs ready to pursue it again.)

* I would eliminate this possibility from the get-go since Jon had already pointed out at the start of the season that the place where the Fears came from didn’t exist anymore:

(MAG164) MARTIN: Can we turn the world back? [STATIC RISES, STRONG] ARCHIVIST: Wow! Hum… I–if the Fears are removed, yes; but they–they can’t be destroyed while there are still… people to fear them; th–then they can’t be banished back to the space where they came from, it’s not… there anymore, I… Oh! Uh…

So. Aouch. Not getting that.

* Jon admitting for the first time that successfully dealing with the Fears will cause his degradation/disappearance huuuurt but I’m glad he has said it and shared the thought T___T We were suspecting that it could happen, I mostly wanted Jon&Martin to communicate about it and not be taken by surprise if it were to happen…

* I’m especially glad, in a way, that Jon has thought about what he could lose and reached the conclusion that it would probably affect what makes him “him”, and especially his memories. It’s something he might have been wondering about since Upton House? (I sure have been wondering about it since Upton House, so I’m glad that he also thought about it, although it’s heartbreaking…)

- So much fabric rustling this episode, so many hugs…

(MAG191) [FABRIC RUSTLES AS THEY EMBRACE] MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE]

- Cries again for Jon having understood that there was a risk that Martin would want to preserve Jon even to the point of keeping the world doomed…

(MAG191) ARCHIVIST: Martin, when the time comes, I need you to promise me that you won’t try to stop me. MARTIN: … I promise. I love you, Jon. ARCHIVIST: [FOND HUFF] I love you too. MARTIN: But I’m not going to doom the world over it. ARCHIVIST: … Thank you.

And I’m not 100% sure whether or not Martin was absolutely sincere. Technically, he did point out that his own limit would be specifically drawing the line at having to pull the trigger:

(MAG186) MARTIN: [GRIMLY] Tea. Please. [FLASK IS UNSCREWED AGAIN] [TEA SOUNDS ENSUE] So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah! ALSO MARTIN: Jon’s as bad as we are. He wouldn’t let it happen.

… not necessarily at the whole concept of Jon having to die. So, Martin wasn’t contradicting what he had previously said, technically.

It was also good that Martin got to check about Jon’s intentions, since he had been explained, at some point, how Jon tends to do risky “heroic” things as a form of self-harm:

(MAG142) DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive. MARTIN: Yeah, well. We’ve all had trauma. DAISY: And everyone’s changed.

(MAG191) MARTIN: [INHALE] And you have to promise me that you’re going to do everything in your power to live. That you’re not going to… sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity, just because you feel guilty about what happened. ARCHIVIST: [BREATH] … I promise. MARTIN: [EXHALE] Good.

So it was extremely valid of Martin to make sure that Jon wouldn’t try to sacrifice himself as a punishment – not anymore.

(I’m noting that they haven’t discussed the possibility where they wouldn’t manage anything. We know that Martin made his decision in MAG186, that he would ask Jon to kill him, to stop feeding from people in his domain. But he’s yet to talk to Jon about that…)

- THAT WAS INDEED SUPER HEAVY…

(MAG191) MARTIN: … God, I hate these conversations. ARCHIVIST: Yeah…! [INHALE] Heavy stuff. [LONG EXHALE] MARTIN: I miss small talk. ARCHIVIST: We could talk about the weather for a bit, i–if you like? MARTIN: [SNORT] Bit difficult underground. ARCHIVIST: True. In that case I might… see if I can get a bit more sleep. Rest up a bit before, uh… you know. MARTIN: Sure. ARCHIVIST: Wake me if they get back? MARTIN: Of course.

Please, go back to talking about poetry or something too ;w;

So, as we left them in the episode: Jon was gathering his strength… and for once, Martin was watching over him.

I’M IN PRE-EMPTIVE PAIN. I know it’s going to end horribly, but aaaaaah ;; Jon laying down the futures he has envisioned for himself, and none of them being good… Jon having to think about the possibility that he could be wasting away and losing himself… it was just incredibly sad? ;;

- Fourth sequence, and given how the dialogue sound level was consistent: it sounded like the tape recorder was physically on Melanie or Georgie, not on the bench itself? There was no variation from the moment they were walking to the moment they sat. It’s interesting that, now, the tape recorders are able to spy on them – even though this is far from the first time they go outside, yet the recorders hadn’t listened in on them for the entire season until now…

- Apocalyptic London soundscaping! It had felt like a while – we only heard it in MAG188 and MAG189, but that was two months ago. I like when some places become immediately recognisable through the sound effects, like Beholding!London or the tunnels’ echo? Back in the days, I was extremely fond of the clock ticking in the background indicating Elias’s office.

(MAG191) [CLICK–] [FOOTSTEPS AND CANE TAPS AS MELANIE AND GEORGIE ARE ABOVE GROUND; URBAN DRONE SOUNDS ABOUND] MELANIE: I do wonder how healthy it is. Going to see him like that. GEORGIE: I know, but… it helps me. I think. MELANIE: It certainly sounded pretty nasty. GEORGIE: Well, it didn’t look too much better.

When Melanie&Georgie were mentioned to be out, I had not thought it would be for the Admiral ;; I had assumed it was to get some Alone Time and discuss the recent changes with Jon&Martin’s arrival, or to stock up on supplies since the group has become bigger – though in this case, their little trip outside served multiple purposes. Somehow, I had assumed that the Admiral’s domain would be a bit hard to access or even removed from London, since Georgie had mentioned she only went to see him occasionally (MAG190: “I go to see him sometimes. I think he’s happy, in his way. But, hum… It’s hard to see him like that. He didn’t even know I was there.”), but on the other hand, Jon had pointed out that there were micro-domains in London that weren’t pure Beholding (MAG188: “It’s the seat of The Eye…! The other powers have small enclaves within in, but… it’s going to be a lot.”). There is something very touching in the fact that Jon&Martin brought change (their mere presence, the fact that they have powers and are on a quest to try to stop this, the tape recorders following them) and Georgie went to see the Admiral again, as if clinging to a companion, a familiar presence… even though he has also changed a great deal?

- I love that Melanie asked the right questions about the bench.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: Uh, there’s a, a bench here, to your left. Do you mind? [DRONE FLYING] MELANIE: Unoccupied? GEORGIE: For now. Come on. MELANIE: Sure.

Big Extinction Couch flashbacks.

(MAG175) MARTIN: You know what? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] I am sitting down. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLE] Are you… sure, that thing is… That’s not in great shape. MARTIN: Neither am I. I have been on my feet for a literally uncountable amount of time. [FOOTSTEPS] [BAG JOSTLING] [SHUFFLING] [CREAKING, WITH DAMP SPLOSHES] MARTIN: Mmhph… ARCHIVIST: [CLIPPED] How is it? MARTIN: … Great…! It’s great. [WET SQUEAK] Lovely couch.

^We know how awful places to sit can be since the Change.

- Apart from the brief moment Melanie found Georgie at the end of MAG149, this was the first time we hear them talk by themselves and for themselves, and I’m grateful for that! It helped to see how they normally interact: asking questions about themselves and their own actions and situations, expressing their own thoughts aloud, bouncing ideas and feelings around… And I love that we can feel that they indeed know each other well at this point, with Melanie picking up right away on the fact that Georgie was actually upset:

(MAG191) MELANIE: Everything’s a bit… shit. Isn’t it? GEORGIE: Not everything. [DRONE FLYING] MELANIE: … How did he look? GEORGIE: He’s happy, I think. Does that… Does that make him evil? MELANIE: It makes him a cat. GEORGIE: And, I mean… sure it’s not a great look for Battersea but, watching it… it’s just the gorier bits of a nature documentary on repeat. MELANIE: There’s nothing natural about this, though. GEORGIE: … No. [SILENCE] MELANIE: We could still pull him out. Y’know, like, like the others. GEORGIE: No, no… It… it hurts to see him like that, but… he’s safer there. If we took him, we’d just be putting him in danger. We might even be putting the others in danger from him.

* Melanie going straight at it with the Admiral – because “not everything” being shit still means, in their situation, that most things are, and they had just gone out to allow Georgie to take a look at her fluffball.

* Georgie’s question about whether the Admiral was “evil” was a bit heartwrenching… because it’s how she had referred to an End avatar with Oliver:

(MAG121) OLIVER: Oh…. Uh, right. H–have I upset you, miss? GEORGIE: [INTERRUPTING] No, you just remind me of someone. OLIVER: Aaah, I’m sorry. Were they– GEORGIE: Evil. Yes.

Georgie having a black and white view of morality and trouble cataloguing the Admiral within that system…

* I like how Melanie’s overall dryness also allows her to be firm and rational about a few things? It’s a case where we can understand why Georgie is upset (her companion is terrorising others and feeding from their fears, while he used to be her domesticated pet), but Melanie’s reminder is also noteworthy – is the Admiral even able of moral reasoning? Listen to Season 4’s Q&A for Jonny’s stance on the subject.

* (And I love that it settles on: he’s still a cat, acting as a cat, and enjoying being a predator. Doesn’t make him evil. But the circumstances in themselves have “nothing natural” about them, and that’s still their main problem.)

* ;; That was a nice echo to Jon mentioning earlier in the episode how Georgie is with “people in her care”: right now, there is still the group of predators to protect, so as much Georgie might love the Admiral… still a risk. Same thing as with Jon before, and Georgie trying to get him out in order to protect Melanie.

- Was that a frigging reference to the Giant Crab That Lives Under The Archives meme.

(MAG191) MELANIE: [SIGH] You’re not still going on about that… dream of a giant, murderous tunnel-cat, are you? GEORGIE: [CHUCKLE] MELANIE: You know you’re not actually a prophet, hon?

Because it sure sounded like it. (Also, Georgie’s dreams are cool.)

Once again, I’m super happy that we heard Georgie and Melanie interact mundanely!! Because they sound like an old married couple, too, now! The little endearing “hon” and tender needling while reminding Georgie that no, her dreams are not prophetic and they don’t know what would truly happen if they brought the Admiral back with them. I also like that it wasn’t one-sided and that both were able to contextualise in order to comfort the other at different point:

(MAG191) GEORGIE: And it’s not like the tunnels have gotten any safer with them hanging around. MELANIE: It just feels crap, you know? Doing nothing. GEORGIE: We’re surviving. And… trying to help others do the same. That’s not nothing. MELANIE: True. Even if it feels like it sometimes.

Melanie reminding Georgie that the Admiral is a cat by nature, Georgie reminding Melanie that “surviving” is still something (and a lot, given the current world). It was also a nice view of their respective personal weak spots – Georgie, the companion she lost; Melanie, her frustration at perceiving herself as useless and static at the moment.

- Loving the transition from the Admiral to Jon.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: [SIGH] I still care about him, you know. But… getting involved will only make things worse. MELANIE: We’d better still be talking about the Admiral. GEORGIE: [INHALE] Jon’s… doing his best.

Jon Is A Cat. (And Melanie absolutely understands that, since she understood the transition.)

- I love that both Melanie and Georgie are absolutely aware that no, Jon didn’t want the apocalypse to happen and shouldn’t be held responsible for it…

(MAG190) GEORGIE: … Melanie reckons you’re the reason… all this happened, whole apocalypse thing. ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] She’s… not wrong. GEORGIE: [LONG EXHALATION] ARCHIVIST: I was… the catalyst, I–I didn’t… Elias– Jonah Magnus used me. GEORGIE: Well, obviously. Even Melanie doesn’t think you’d have been stupid enough to do this on purpose.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: It’s not his fault…! It’s not like he wanted it to happen. [DRONE FLYING] MELANIE: I know that! Right? I know. I know, but the… the truth is, I just don’t like him. I never have, and I am sick of people acting like I should feel so super-sympathetic towards him, just because he’s had a rough time of it. I’ve had a rough time of it from the second I met him! We all have! And he doesn’t– GEORGIE: Oh, honey… [SIGH] MELANIE: … Okay. I can still hate him, even if I don’t, y’know, blame him but… [FRUSTRATED EXHALE]

But also!! That Melanie!! Doesn’t like him! That Melanie is allowed to dislike him for her own reasons! I love that she’s allowed to feel that, to remind us that things also went downhill for her, and that she’s not presenting it as a competition in misery? Jon is our main character, we’ve witnessed his hurdles and only got a glimpse of the others’, so I appreciate the reminders that they’re the main characters of their own stories.

Still! My heart sobs a bit because I also like the concept of Melanie&Jon as potential friends (they were absolute nerds together in MAG076), and Melanie had offered the possibility at the end of season 4 (MAG157: “It’s, it’s okay. He’s… welcome. As a friend. But that’s it.”)… but once again, circumstances aren’t ideal and it’s a bit of a “things could have been different” in another universe, probably? Or even in this one, if Melanie had a chance to keep working on herself and her self-hate? (And, for little details as to why she could be annoyed at Jon at the moment: Jon haaaas been kind of an ass around her since they reunited – teasing about the cult while it was an obvious tender spot for Melanie wasn’t super sensitive of him. It’s Jon’s sense of humour! But it doesn’t have to work with everyone.)

- Aouch, I had mused and joked about Jon&Melanie’s common points (matching shoulder scars! Dating Georgie! Very passionate in their own fields about the supernatural! Jon pointing out that he also knew how it is to be looked down on by peers! Both tending to go it alone and to rely on themselves, having a hard time trusting, clamming up when they’re hurt!), but Melanie’s acknowledgement of it was heartbreaking:

(MAG191) GEORGIE: You know… you’re actually quite similar. MELANIE: Well, then at least I hate consistently. GEORGIE: … You should really talk to Laverne about that. MELANIE: Oh, trust me, it came up. Day one, I think. GEORGIE: [SAD SOUND OF UNDERSTANDING]

MELANIE ;___; It breaks my heart but also wow, I’m grateful for that punch, and super happy that she is aware of it, of how she works, that it ALREADY came up in therapy, right away… (I wonder if Melanie’s self-hatred came up in therapy right away, or specifically the fact that she was projecting her self-hatred on Jon. I’m cackling again at Laverne suddenly realising that Jon was “the” Jon Sims, as in Melanie’s old boss.)

- I LOVE MELANIE!! I love how she made it clear that 1°) yes, she’s aware that Jon didn’t doom the world on purpose or willingly, 2°) no, she still doesn’t like him, 3°) yes, she still thinks it would be the right thing to help him and offer him support. She’s allowed to have her personal feelings, to stick to them, but also to be rational about it and see that they need to collaborate if they hope to achieve something. And I love how it evolves into a conversation about what they could offer, concretely?

(MAG191) MELANIE: But all that said… we should still help them. GEORGIE: What could we even do for them if Jon’s some kind of… all-knowing demigod? MELANIE: Not down there. Martin says they can’t find a way up into the Institute. GEORGIE: Too risky. I told you about the things down near the stairs, right? MELANIE: I, uh, yeah.

Melanie is already aware of Jon’s weak spot, that he can’t know in the tunnels, and that they need help to reach the Institute!

I’mmm a bit curious about the logistics of things: first, it’s likely but not absolutely confirmed that the “Watchers” guarding the stairs are the Archivists Jon mentioned (notably, the first were described as if they are static, while Jon mentioned that the Archivists move around); second, I’m a bit curious about which stairs are the stairs that are alluded to (and where they lead):

(Season 5 Act III trailer) LAVERNE: I, uh… I got a bit too close to the stairs, yesterday.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: Too risky. I told you about the things down near the stairs, right?

It’s “down”: does that mean the Watchers are stationed at the bottom of the stairs, and the stairs are going up? It feels like the option that makes the most sense considering they are in the tunnels – and we know that the trapdoor in the Archives leading down to the tunnels was hiding stairs (Jon described them as such in MAG041). So it could be that set of stairs, leading up to the Archives. Another tiny possibility is that those stairs… are actually going down, deeper into the tunnels: towards where the Panopticon used to be? (It’s mostly that I tend to automatically picture said stairs as going “up”, back to the Institute/what is now the Panopstitute… but technically, this hasn’t been said any of the multiple times these stairs were mentioned. And we know that the tunnels had multiple levels, going deeper and deeper.)

… Whether the Watchers are the Archivists or those are two different things, though, I feel like Georgie’s wording was indeed reenforcing the idea that the Watchers were what caught and snatched back the survivors they had managed to free:

(Season 5 Act III trailer) LAVERNE: I, uh… I got a bit too close to the stairs, yesterday. [ANXIOUS NOISES] UNNAMED: [SHARPLY] Seriously? Did they see you? LAVERNE: No. But… there were more watchers. CELIA: What do you mean “more”? There’s two, one each side! LAVERNE: Not anymore. I didn’t get a good look, but… there must have been four, or five. […] ARUN: Have faith! The prophets shall protect us. UNNAMED: [SNORT] Like they protected Song and Christopher? LAVERNE: Hm. ARUN: That was our fault! UNNAMED: Uh–huh! ARUN: We became arrogant, attracted attention. They’re the Chosen, they’re not all-powerful.

(MAG190) GEORGIE: … There are seven with us now. [SIGH] It used to be more. A lot more. But, hum… we got greedy. Pulled too many out. We… attracted attention. And… well, now there are seven.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: Too risky. I told you about the things down near the stairs, right? MELANIE: I, uh, yeah. GEORGIE: We can’t afford to attract their attention.

They lost people because they “attracted attention”…

- I! love! Melanie!

(MAG191) GEORGIE: We can’t afford to attract their attention. MELANIE: … You’re doing it again. GEORGIE: [FRUSTRATED] Argh! MELANIE: Look, you–you’ve been doing so much better recently. I, I know it’s really hard to judge risk without a, a sense of fear– GEORGIE: But I am still… overcompensating. MELANIE: Well, I mean, not, not necessarily? It is dangerous. But…

I love that she bluntly pointed out to Georgie that she was “overcompensating” again, and given Georgie’s reaction, that she’s aware that she tends to do that, that she agrees about it, that she knows it’s not a good thing, and that she’s trying to work on it! Once again, it was really super cool to see Melanie&Georgie interact like this, because we could see they were familiar with each other’s way of thinking, of their own potential spirals, and are able to quickly put a stop to them.

And it makes so much sense for Georgie! It’s not a big reveal, it’s something we could feel: we knew she couldn’t feel fear, she had pointed out herself that she tended to be cautious to make up for her lack of fear:

(MAG094) GEORGIE: Since that day, I’ve never been able to feel afraid. My fear’s just… gone. I’m not foolhardy. I can still recognise danger, and I understand the likelihood of harm, but actual fear? Simply not something I experience anymore. And I’ve never been able to figure out if it was cauterised, or… if it was stolen.

But it’s so nice to see it acknowledged as a fallible adaptive strategy, still potentially hurtful for Georgie and the people around her. It also adds some flavour to how she behaved with Jon in season 4, trying to rationalise why she wanted to cut ties with him after having tangible proof that he was entangled with and surrounded by danger?

- I love Melanie ;___;

(MAG191) MELANIE: But… I, I don’t see another way out of this? And, and I don’t intend to spend the rest of eternity sleeping in a tunnel playing “mystery tin”…! GEORGIE: … Not even if it was just the two of us? MELANIE: [SIGH] Oh, okay… Y–yes. Well… maybe… [INHALE] I, I could handle that for a bit. But if there’s even a small chance we could put things back?

It was such a contrast with Salesa: Melanie unhappy with her situation, agreeing that it could easily be more agreeable (if she were to be alone with Georgie)… but also firm on the fact that their current life (and their options for how to lead it) is not enough. Salesa chose to keep living in his own little bubble, protected and safe, even if it’s a solitary life and has its shares of misery (Salesa probably wouldn’t be drinking alone in the morning if he was as happy as he claimed, and he knew his future, at some point, would be to die, either at Annabelle’s hands or by ending his life himself). Melanie and Georgie have the same kind of security, are more or less in the same situation (they could keep going like this, sheltered from most of the horrors), but are taking an absolutely different stance.

- I also like the tiny note about the fact they have “always” been involved…

(MAG191) GEORGIE: … [INHALE] You’re right. I know you’re right. I just hate getting involved…! MELANIE: We’ve always been involved. Right? GEORGIE: Yeah…

Because: on a personal level, they did encounter the Fears even before meeting Jon (Georgie in her first year of uni, Melanie during one of her recordings). They were both marked by Fears before any dealing with the Institute. And even before that, well… the Fears were already around? Have been around for centuries, maybe the beginning of times? And right now, it’s more explicitly everyone’s problem.

- Feelings about Melanie and agency…

(MAG106) ELIAS: Whatever I’m planning needs to be stopped! Even if it costs a few lives. Including your own. MELANIE: Well, that’s n–not even– ELIAS: A rationalisation, of course. A lie, about your own selfishness, that you would rather be dead than trapped without the self-determination you prize so highly.

(MAG117) MELANIE: But I’m still fighting. [SCOFF] For all the good it’s done me! Still stuck, still miserable, still… angry. [CHUCKLE] New traumas, but they hurt just like the old ones…!

(MAG150) MELANIE: I didn’t say I was going to quit. I said: I’m not going to do my job. No researching; no filing; no… field trips. Nothing that is going to help the Institute in any way. I’ll still be around, I just…

(MAG155) MELANIE: No, Jon. I’m going to do it. [BREATH] I’m quitting.

(MAG191) MELANIE: A–a–at least now it’s on our terms! This way, you can get back to podcasting about monsters… GEORGIE: [CHUCKLE] MELANIE: … rather than hiding from them.

It had been pointed out multiple times that Melanie valued her agency! I’m so glad that she’s conscious that this is her way to take it back, while the Change had once again dispossessed her of it ;w;

- GEORGIE, I CARE YOU.

(MAG191) GEORGIE: Urgh! Don’t. I was just… thinking about that yesterday. How much I legitimately miss those shitty ad reads. You know, everything happened just as I was recording one? MELANIE: Oh, god, yeah! Hum, what was it, uh… GEORGIE: [PODCASTER VOICE] “Slaughterville…” MELANIE: [HAPPILY] Yes! GEORGIE: “The Town of a Thousand Corpses”! MELANIE: [CHUCKLES] GEORGIE: Some god-awful true crime thing based in a, a Colorado town where there were meant to be like… three serial killers or something. MELANIE: Jesus. GEORGIE: I was so proud of the script I did for it as well! I thought I’d really nailed that schlocky pulp vibe without it being super obvious that I was making fun of them.

That’s indeed a thought: what were you doing when the world ended? At least, we know for Georgie, and it’s hilarious =D I love how she acknowledges her shitty ads – and that she makes them sound terrible on purpose.

(What’s with Georgie and Slaughter-related content, though? The WTG episode that had been released had already been Slaughter-y, given Jon’s comment in MAG125…)

(Genuine avatars sending their ads to Georgie to advertise their activities, and Georgie finding the stuff they do ridiculous…)

- That’s a lot of people Doing Things For An Audience, recently. Arun reading books or his own creations; Georgie reminiscing about her podcast and toying with the possibility of performing in front of the others; the tape recorders spying on everyone…

- Harsh return to reality with Arun’s creations, but also, very valid reminder and concern:

(MAG191) MELANIE: … Come on. We’d better head back. It’s… probably not a great idea leaving that lot with Jon and Martin unsupervised.

Indeed, the other survivors are nooot meshing super-well with Jon&Martin. (But Melanie&Georgie being in the mix is not a guarantee that things will calm down ;;)

- And so, we got their final decision!

(MAG191) MELANIE: So… we help them? GEORGIE: Well… We’re not going up the tower, but… yeah. I want my cat back. [CANE TAPPING AS THEY WALK OFF]

Indeed helping/providing assistance, but not going with them! And Georgie’s conclusion was BADASS and VALID – that’s indeed the only way for her to get the right conditions to get the Admiral back.

Given that they mentioned it, I’m assuming that they will bring Jon&Martin to the stairs with the Watchers? Or perhaps Laverne will? Would they work as a distraction, would they be even noticed by the Watchers…?

- General musing:

* She’s not joined with the group yet, but as an alternative to enter the Panopstitute… there might be Basira, too? She was inside of the building when the Change happened, and left without any problem. Jon said that right now, she had inherited Daisy’s ability to ~carve her way~ through others’ domains: would it allow her to enter the Panopstitute in the same way?

* We still don’t know what is Jon’s domain exactly – only that Jon&Martin were heading to it during their journey. Is it the Panopstitute? The Archives? Beholding itself at this point?

* I really wonder how Jon will interact with other Archivists… would they feel like he’s just one of them? Would they feel like he’s special even amongst them? Would they attack him because he’s full of stories (and akin to an “Archive”)? … How are they currently fed, exactly? Do they observe the domains outside, or do they have to rip stories out of people? Was it what happened to the survivors that Melanie&Georgie lost…?

Nine episodes left ;_;

MAG192’s title makes me think of two Big Meanings that could allude to various things. Domains’ rulers (Basira?), “Archivist” lore, statement from an Archivist? Elias, Rosie? Or something that is already slated to be happening (Annabelle implied to Martin they would see each other again soon-ish, when they left Upton house)? It’s been two episodes in a row without a “statement” in some form (which only happened as part of the climax in previous seasons), it feels so strange, too…

#tma liveblog #mag191 #tma season 5 #tma spoilers/#long post/#the magnus archives

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