#I drew this while listening to the final episodes because I love pain

[hansoeii]

Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood

#So #I have listened to the entirety of the magnus archives in about 2 weeks and I'm not okay #these two have ruined me #this queer horror podcast has ruined me #jonathan sims (the real dude) you will pay for your crimes #I drew this while listening to the final episodes because I love pain #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanart #tma #tma jon #tma martin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #my art #fanart #digital art

[saskiahaggens]

🄲🄷🄰🄽🄶🄴

Masterlist

Paring: Chishiya x Reader

Warnings:

spoilers of episode 2

Word count: 1925

When you met him, it was a warm summer day. A gentle wind helped to cool everyone off, and your friends encouraged you to hang out later that day. What you didn't know was that you were going to cancel later that day.

You were leaving school and passed by a small alleyway when you heard whimpering. You were frightened at the time, but you chose to look regardless. Your panic vanished as you recognized it as a boy's uniform from your school.

His face was bruised, and judging by his cowering posture, he was clearly in a lot of pain. He winced as he heard your footsteps. His eyes were closed, and you could sense him shiver.

"It's OK. I will not harm you. Hey, my name is Y/n."

He must have been expecting someone else since he looked up with hesitation. That was putting it mildly, because his left eye was so swollen that he couldn't see through it.

"N-niragi"

You smiled at him, attempting to comfort him, and he swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

"Who did this, Niragi?" you questioned, softly taking his slightly bloodied hand in yours.

Instead, he shook his head and attempted to stand up. He was ashamed of himself for laying in this alley. It was pathetic. Really. You, on the other hand, didn't mind. You supported him in standing up and held his arm to keep him steady.

"How about you come with me? I live nearby. You may rest till you feel better," you offered, still smiling through it all.

"No, I'm alright."

"You're not. Look at you. I want to help you. Nobody deserves that kind of brutality."

He attempted to object, but on the inside he was delighted that you did not listen. You rescued him. No one had ever done this before. His teachers blamed him for being bullied. He should stand up and fight back. You stood out. You didn't expect him to put up a fight. You wanted him to feel good, needed, and protected. It was fate that drew you here on this day, at that moment. He fell for you that day... and he fell hard.

He was very kind, in your perspective. He was always worried about your health and mood, In a nice way.  You made him feel appreciated, and he wanted you to feel the same way.

When you had a date, he would help you with your homework or prepare dinner. 

In June, you asked him out. You asked him out, but he was the one who said, 'I love you,' first. He said it almost a year later, in April. While having a picnic, you watched the cherry blossoms fall. To be honest, it was cliche and cheesy, and if you brought it up now, he would deny it since he had changed.

You couldn't understand what happened. It began slowly. He began wearing contact lenses, instead of his cute glasses, and when you eventually moved in together after graduation, he showed up one day with a nose piercing. Instead of his adorable glasses, he started wearing contact lenses, and when you finally moved in together after graduation, he showed up one day with a nose piercing. A few weeks later, he got his brow pierced. His appearance changed drastically, yet it was all his choice. Still, a heads-up would have been nice.

You weren't sure why he was getting into fights again. After he graduated, the bullying ended, and he was able to live in peace. He denied having a bloodied and swollen face when you questioned him why. You weren't even permitted to help him with treating it. Every time he came home wounded, he went directly into the bathroom and left the house an hour later. You followed him one day because you were afraid he might be hurt even more. He went to a pub and drank a little, most likely to reduce the pain. The next day, he'd pretend as if nothing had happened and go to work as normal. He'd deny anything happened, and you didn't want him to become angry, so you let it go. You hoped he would let you know when he was ready… You were wrong.

Some days, he just disappeared, leaving no trace of where he had go or when he would return.  You suspected him of cheating once, but you immediately forgot about it.  His appearance had altered, but he was still the lovable Niragi you'd met in that alleyway years before.

He began to speak to you less and less. Sometimes he didn't speak to you at all; he went before you woke up and came back when you were asleep. His messy side of the bed, which was still warm and smelt like him, was the only sign that he was even there. It made everything hurt even more.

You wanted for this relationship to work. You still loved him and were concerned that he had lost interest in you. Just because he would never cheat on you does not mean he can't stop loving you. Your heart had been taken by this man. Years ago, he ripped it out of your chest and kept it. He seemed to have forgotten about this now.

You'd had enough of this bullshit after two more years. There were days when he behaved normally, and then there were days when he was angry at you for no apparent reason, or when you didn't see him at all. Every time you brought it up, he became enraged, and even though you still didn't want to end the relationship, it felt like the only thing you could do.

You tried to listen. You tried to be there for him. You really did. It just didn't work, and your relationship most likely didn't either.

You need to think about everything away from him, therefore the invitation you received from a high school friend was ideal.

They lived in a small town near Tokyo, so it wouldn't be too far away, but it would work just fine. Niragi didn't care when you told him, but you weren't surprised at this point. Even though you knew this relationship stopped working a while ago, it was still hard to make this decision. It wouldn't be worth your time to attempt to repair this broken relationship. You really wanted to break up with him, but then something very unlikely happened.

Some would call it fate; others would call it something worse than a nightmare; but it wasn't either for you. A meteor landed in Tokyo, specifically in Shibuya.

After hearing the news, you were concerned and called Niragi. Of course, he didn't answer the phone. He has no reason to. Perhaps he wasn't even injured and simply didn't pick up. It wasn't unlikely for him at this point.

Even if you wanted to end the relationship, you still cared about him. So you went back home earlier than anticipated, searching first your apartment, then his favorite spots, and then—after your worst fears came true—you checked every hospital near the scene of the accident.

Finally, when you asked for your boyfriend of so many years and room number, one receptionist nodded. As fast as you could, you made your way to his room. Because of the large number of injured people, this hospital, like all the others, were overflowing.

You ran into yet another while attempting to dodge the people who didn't watch where they were going. He smiled sheepishly as he pulled you out of his chest. You were greeted by a short man. His hair was colored white, but the natural color was already peeking through. He was just leaving Niragis' room, but based on his attire, he was also a patient.

"I apologize. I attempted to avoid-" You attempted to justify your carelessness, but the person who had almost run into you had vanished.

"Yeah, whatever. You must be Y/n. Niragi wasn't lying when he bragged about you," he said, rolling his eyes at the memory.

"What did he do? You must have misunderstood him. But, anyway, I am Y/n. You are?"

"Chishiya. Now I have to keep going. Niragi is alone right now, but keep it together. When I return, I want a child-safe zone," he snickered as he walked away.

Strange guy. You dismissed the topic and reached for the handle. Should you knock on the door? On the other hand, what could he possibly be up to? You still knocked before gently opening the door.

The nurses had already informed you about his situation, but you ignored them. He was still alive, and that was all that counted for now.

"Suguru," you whispered when you sat down on his bed, examining his injuries.

"God, you are so pretty, N/n."

Before the accident, he had never said anything like this. This was very out of style for him. Not to add that he hadn't called you N/n in a long time.

"I apologize for what I did, N/n. I haven't told you in months, but I love you. It's fine if you want to end our relationship with me; I treated you like crap and I don't deserve better. So now I look like the terrible guy I am."

"Do not say anything like that. It seems that your near-death experience changed you. I truly wanted to end things with you. But I haven't heard you talk to me like this in a long time. What do you think? Do you deserve another chance?"

"No," he said firmly. "Obviously I don't, but I would love another chance. I had nearly forgotten how much you meant to me. I'm sorry it took all of this for me to realize that you are the only thing worth living for. All I want now is for you to be happy. And maybe you could be happy with me."

"What even happened?" you asked.

"I got in touch with the wrong people. I wanted to keep you safe. I should've told you, but I was frightened you'd leave me. You deserve so much more than me," he said as he closed his eyes. "You should definitely break up with me, but let me say it one more time. Y/n, I love you. I love you so much. You made me feel valued when I felt like no one cared."

You would never have imagined Niragi would say something like this.

"I'd want to try again. But. We can't just pretend nothing happened. We must begin from the start."

"I know. I know. However, you are worth it. You are worth every second of my time. If you ever want something, don't hold back and tell me. I might not be able to give you everything, but I will try."

You'd gotten him back. You'd gotten your old Niragi back.

"How about a kiss? It's all I need for now."

Because of the fire, his lips weren't as soft as they used to be, but I t was good to be this close to him again. Feeling his breath on your face, his heart racing as you got closer. It was as if you were a teenager again.

"Disgusting," was murmured, but both you and Niragi most definitely heard it.

"Fuck you, cat boy. You are just jealous."

"Jap. But if you ever leave her, Niragi, she will be mine," He was kidding, but Niragi most likely missed it.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to ditch her again."

#imagine #alice in borderland #reader insert #aib niragi #niragi imagine #niragi suguru #niragi x reader #niragi alice in borderland #niragi fluff #niragi x y/n #aib chishiya #chishiya alice in borderland #chishiya imagines #season 2

[the-bau-quinjet]

heyyy. I know you’ve been doing marvel a lot, but if you could do one with morgan and the reader? Based on amplification and it’s the reader who gets sick instead. thanks!

Finally

Warnings: some mentions of being sick (cause... you know... anthrax), angst and fluff :)

Word Count: 2735

a/n: My first Morgan fic!! I love him so much! This one took me a while because 1) I feel like I'm not that good at rewriting episodes, and 2) I wanted to get Derek's character right. Hopefully it's not too terrible! I hope you enjoy!! :)

Masterlist

"Rossi, Prentiss head to his office. Morgan, get Reid and L/N from the hospital and check out his house." Hotch instructed as soon as Dr. Nichols was deemed a reasonable suspect.

It wasn't long before you, Reid, and Morgan were pulling up outside of Dr. Nichols house.

"It's clear so far. I'll let you know when we're done checking." One of the CDC techs said through a walkie.

"We should look around a bit." Reid started down the driveway, gesturing for you and Morgan to follow.

"Ow!" You flinched away from the rose bush, shaking your hand in an attempt to lessen the pain.

"You good?" Morgan eyed you, overly concerned about a small scrape.

"I'm fine. Promise." You winked, walking past him and Reid to check for anything out of the ordinary in the backyard.

"I don't understand why you haven't asked her out yet." Reid looked between you and Morgan. Unfortunately, Morgan was saved from answering by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hey, princess what do you have?" Morgan greeted Garcia, glaring at Reid.

You continued to explore while Derek and Reid talked to Garcia. It wasn't until after you entered the shed-like building that you thought maybe the CDC should check for anthrax out here too.

By then it was too late.

"L/N?" You could hear Morgan calling you. "Y/N!" It was clear him and Reid were approaching the door you just walked through.

You ran back to the sliding glass door, slamming it shut and locking it before either of them could stop you.

"What's wrong?" He frantically ran up to the door.

"Get back! No, don't come any closer." Your eyes flitted between the two agents, landing solely on Derek when you muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Y/N, open the door..." Derek's typically powerful voice nearly broke as he watched you shake your head.

"I can't. I- I'm already exposed." You shook your head resolutely, convincing yourself this was the right move. "I'll look for anything that could help in here. It's the best move."

"Y/N, you need to go to the hospital." Derek put more power behind his words with hopes of convincing you.

"The hospital won't do anything for me. Nichols could've made a cure, and if he did it's probably in here." You tore your eyes from Derek, hoping Spencer would help you convince him. "Reid, tell him I'm right."

He looked conflicted, eyes flitting between you and Derek.

"She's right. The cipro isn't working on anyone infected. Her best chance is to stay in there and find something useful." Reid looked reluctantly at Derek.

"Then you better find a cure in there." Derek whispered, eyes lingering on you before he finally turned away to call Hotch.

-

"Morgan, Reid. How's L/N?" Hotch questioned immediately, forgoing any greeting.

"White powder all over the room and the air was blasting." Morgan responded quickly. He made brief eye contact with Hotch before turning to walk back to the door.

The general barked out instructions for a decontamination team and cordoning off the area.

"Get her in the ambulance." Hotch directed Morgan and Reid.

"She won't." Morgan felt his heart rate increase at the thought of you staying in there any longer. "Said she's more helpful inside than in the hospital."

"Nichols is dead, looks to be about 2-3 days." Reid added on.

Just then Hotch's phone rang.

"L/N?" He answered on speaker.

"I really messed up this time." You let out a dry laugh.

"You need to get to the hospital." Hotch tried to argue.

"I know Morgan and Reid already told you I won't go. There could be answers in here." Your stubbornness was showing. "I need to figure out who killed Nichols."

"Y/N-" You cut Morgan off before he could try to convince you to leave.

"I think he had a partner." You decided to refocus the conversation on the case rather than yourself.

"I'll get Rossi and Prentiss to ask at his office." Hotch sighed in resignation.

"Good, I'll keep looking at everything in here."

You hung up before anyone could argue further. You shoved your phone into your pocket, immediately going back to look through papers and lab equipment around the room.

As you worked inside, you could hear the CDC team setting up outside.

Watching through the windows as people in full hazmat suits prepared to enter the room you were in made everything feel more real.

You pulled your phone swiftly out of your pocket dialling the number you knew by heart.

"Hi." Garcia's voice was quiet when she answered the phone.

"No funky greeting? I'm feeling a little jipped." You tried to joke with her, but it fell flat.

"I can't be my normal, bubbly self when you are where you are." Again, her voice was quiet.

"Garcia, can you do something for me?" Your voice was steady, masking the emotion about to pour out of you.

"What? Tell me what to do and I'll do it." She frantically moved around her desk, ready to do anything you requested.

"You know how a few weeks ago, you were joking about my crush on Morgan?" You asked slowly.

"The one you swore didn't exist? I remember." Her voice was laced with confusion at your topic change.

"Well, um, do you think you could record a message for him?" Your breaths were unsteady as you thought about saying goodbye.

"But you're gonna be fine." She spoke with authority, as if saying it made it true.

"I know, but, um... just in case. I want him to hear it at least once." Your voice broke.

"Okay. Um, whenever you're ready." She listened as you spoke to Derek.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once." You cleared your throat, thick from emotion.

"I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you." You felt the tears fall from your cheeks. "You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to."

You wiped at your cheeks roughly, trying to focus on the message.

"I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel."

You chuckled again, but there was no humor in it.

"I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye." You paused, unsure if you had anything left to say.

"Y/N?" Garcia questioned if you were still on the line.

"Prep the victim for transfer." You could hear Dr. Kimura entering the room, preparing to begin treating you.

"I've got to go." You hung up without another word, trying to rid your face of any evidence of the tears before facing the doctor.

"How are you feeling?" She questioned once you were in view.

"I'm actually feeling okay." You nodded, trying to convince yourself it was true. She eyed you like she didn't believe you, but nodded with you anyway.

"Alright, how can I help?"

You spent the next few minutes explaining Dr. Nichols profile. Dr. Kimura set off to look for the cure while you continued trying to figure out who killed Nichols.

-

"L/N, stick with me." Morgan's voice sounded through your phone, drawing your attention away from the stack of papers in your hand. "Prentiss and Rossi don't think the partner is from work."

"Okay, um..." You went back to the bigger desk. "He's got course syllabi and outlines dating back to the 80s." You glanced around the room, eyes catching on the other desk.

"A student..." You trailed off, mind moving a mile a minute.

"Talk to me." Morgan drew your attention again.

"Derek, I think it's a student. There's two desks, different organization on both. The smaller one has what looks like a dissertation that Nichols could've been grading. He wouldn't open his lab to a scientist, but he might for educational purposes." You prattled on, more and more information fitting the theory.

"I'll get Garcia to look at science students." Morgan gestured for Hotch to call Garcia. He was about to hang up when you corrected him.

"Wait! The paper, it's more about social policies surrounding an anthrax attack, not the actual science of it." You spoke quickly, trying to hold in an impending cough.

"Okay, political science and social studies majors then." Morgan trailed off, waiting for your response.

"Good. That's good." You coughed slightly, listening to the sound of his breathing.

"Garcia's got a match." Hotch nodded to Morgan before heading toward the SUVs.

"Y/N, you got everything you could in there. Now get the hell out." He practically begged.

"Sure thing, Derek. Bye." You hung up right as Dr. Kimura walked back toward you.

"His inhaler! It could have the cure, right?" She looked to you for approval.

-

"They're checking out Brown's house." Derek watched as they hosed you down.

"Go help them." You coughed slightly, wincing at the cool water.

"They've got plenty of help. I'm staying with you." His eyes never left yours.

"Please." You looked him in the eye. "They're about to strip me naked and hose me down. As much as I know that's something you want to see, I don't think I look my best right now." You joked, watching the way he averted his eyes slightly.

"Y/N, I-" You cut him off again.

"I know." You smiled softly, gesturing for him to go. "Now go help catch him." You kept your eyes on him until he was out of sight.

Turning back to the conversation happening in front of you, you watched as Dr. Kimura instructed another hazmat team member to get the inhaler tested for the cure.

"It makes sense for the inhaler to have the cure." Your mind felt fuzzy as you thought it over. You moved to grab your head, something catching the attention of the doctor.

"Agent L/N, did you cut your hand?" You glanced at your hand, remembering the rose bush outside. You nodded, eyes widening ever so slightly at the now blistering cut on your hand.

"Let's move." You were quickly cleaned of any lingering traces of anthrax before she directed you into the waiting ambulance. "Are you still feeling fine?" She questioned while taking your vitals.

"I'm doing great. I flea foon. I fill fon." You muttered, eyes rolling back in your head.

"Driver, faster!" She called to the front of the ambulance as you started coughing blood.

-

"Are you eating my jello?" You cleared your throat as you eyed Derek sitting next to your bed.

"Yes I am." He stared directly into your eyes as he ate another spoonful.

"Well, is there more?" You pouted, eyes still lingering on the cup in Derek's hands. He laughed in response.

"What happened?" You slowly moved to sit up, eyes flitting around the various machines in your room.

"The cure was in the inhaler. The other patients are in recovery, and you are going to be just fine." The way he smiled when he said 'just fine' had your heart aching. He just looked so relieved.

"Brown?" You continued your line of questioning.

"We got him. It's over." Derek's soft smile remained, eyes flitting around your body as if he were making sure you were actually okay.

"Well, that's a relief." You took a deep breath. "There's actually something I want to tell you."

He raised a brow, a small smirk playing at the edges of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Does Garcia know anything about this?"

You felt the blood rush to your cheeks, eyes widening in horror that he had already heard the message. "Oh, um, I mean, technically yes. I didn't- I wouldn't have told her before you if I didn't think I might die!" Your voice was rising in pitch, panic surging through your body.

"Woah, babygirl, slow down." His previous smirk shifted into another look of concern, although he still let out a small chuckle. "She just told me to ask you about a message. That's all."

"Oh." Your mouth stayed in the 'o' shape for longer than necessary, your body's way of stalling what you were about to say. "You haven't heard the message?"

"Nope." He said with a pop. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Well, I guess I have to since you brought it up." You rolled your eyes, messing with him.

"Hey, now! You started it." He clearly had you beat, so you just blurted it out.

"I think I love you!" You threw your hands over your mouth, eyes wide now that you'd confessed to your best friend that you're in love with him.

"That's what the message said. I thought- I mean there was a strong possibility that I was going to die. I didn't want that to happen without me having told you how I actually feel."

Your eyes were focused on the edges of the hospital blanket where your fingers were twisting a loose thread.

"Can I hear it?" His question confused you, causing you to look at him with a furrowed brow. "The message I mean?"

You nodded slowly, texting Garcia to see if she could send it to you. The chime of a text coming in happened almost instantly. You didn't hesitate to hit play on the recording.

"Hi Derek. Um, I kind of have a secret to tell you, but first I want you to know this isn't your fault. I'm the idiot who walked into the lab. It's on me. I guess I just want to make sure you hear this from me at least once.

I, uh, I think I'm maybe, just a little bit, um... in love with you. You're my best friend. You've always been there for me when cases hit a little too close to home or even if I'm just having a bad day. You never fail to make me smile, no matter how hard I'm trying not to.

I've wanted to tell you for a while, but I never knew how. I guess I'm glad I walked in here for one reason. It finally pushed me to tell you how I feel.

I'm, ah, I'm really sorry if this is goodbye."

The message cut off abruptly at that point.

You could feel your heart pounding as if it were trying to escape your chest.

"I'm sorry. I didn't realize it sounded so sad." You smiled, though your eyes were watery. "I mean, I guess it makes sense since I thought you would only hear it if I died." You continued rambling, eyes looking anywhere but at Derek.

"Y/N?" He prevented you from muttering any other embarrassing words.

"Yeah?" You winced, trying to prepare yourself for his rejection.

"I love you too."

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said any-" You abruptly stopped, the words you heard finally catching up with your brain.

"You- you love me too?" You whispered, eyes finally meeting his.

"I do." His smile was wider than you've ever seen, and so, so pure.

"Oh." Your mind was having a hard time comprehending the gravity of what just happened. Luckily for you, Derek knew exactly what was going on when he leaned in to kiss you.

It took a second for your body to respond, but as soon as it did you could feel the butterflies swarming in your stomach.

Despite how new it was, everything felt right in the world when you were kissing Derek Morgan.

He only pulled back when you gently pushed him away, a wide smile on your face as you sucked in deep breaths of air. The two of you stared at each other lovingly, just enjoying the presence of one another.

The sound of a throat clearing coming from the doorway shocked you out of your trance. Reid stood leaning against the doorframe, a smirk on his face. He uttered one word, perfectly encapsulating your own feelings on the situation.

"Finally."

permanent taglist:

@averyhotchner @jesuswasnotawhiteman @madewithsebstan @sebastnstn

Criminal Minds tag list:

@mac99martin @goldeng1rl8 @measure-in-pain

#derek morgan x reader #derek morgan x you #derek morgan x y/n #derek morgan #derek morgan fic #criminal minds fic #derek morgan fluff #derek morgan one shot #derek morgan angst

[doctorofmagic]

My thoughts on What If... Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The very title of the episode sends a shiver down my spine. And this is where we’re going to start.

~ long post under the cut ~

A year ago, I wrote this post as an attemp to dive into one of the most important traits in Doctor Strange’s personality: love. Stephen is a being made of love, made to love, no matter which interpretation you have when you watch Infinity War. If you don’t read comic books, you’ll understand the moment you meet Donna. You’ll begin to understand how her death reshaped his entire subjectivity out of fear of failing, being powerless and unable to control everything around him (especially death), thus the arrogant and yet a disaster of a man we all know.

Where do I even start? Stephen loved her sister deeply and felt responsible for her death. And then, slowly, he also lost his parents and his brother. He fell in love with Clea but he also pushed her away. He loved Zelma platonically and lied to her, which was enough for them to break their bond. He felt attracted to Kanna but screwed things up, even though they remain friends. He was forced to kill the Ancient One, the only father figure he had ever since his father died. And lastly, the only person who would never leave his side... also left. Yes, even Wong. Stephen has SO much love to give but he’s also afraid because he’s cursed. He truly believes his love in poison. And would you look at that? What If really delivered a story where this is actually true.

What If Doctor Strange Lost His Heart Instead of His Hands?

The level of understanding when it comes to the character is... inconceivable. What could possibly reshape Stephen into following a dark path but love? The very premise of the whole episode. This is so much more than a love letter. This is literally too much, in all senses.

Fine, let’s begin.

What if the best of intentions has very strange consequences?

No. You used the word “strange” for the pun but this is not the word. Nah-ah. I’d go with ATROCIOUS, for starters. Things are gonna escalate so quickly, my friends.

Seriously, tho? Christine is SO SO SO SO beautiful, they’re so cute together. I have this feeling that MCU!Stephen was quite toxic because of his arrogance and this is why they didn’t work out. But WhatIf!Stephen???????? He’s always praising her, teasing her in a healthy way, respecting her and listening to her. HE TRULY LOVES HER, I’M GONNA CRY ALL OVER AGAIN, PLEASE, NOT THE CRÈME BRÛLÉE, PLEASE

I’m going to leave this shot here because we need to go back to it later. Hold that thought.

And bonus points to “Yeah, well, I would call that quite remarkable.” / “Well, I would say the same about you.”

GODS. THE PAIN. STOP THE PAIN.

So in this reality, Stephen didn’t caused the car accident because he was checking his phone while driving. Also it was not the reckless attempt to pass the truck. Well, maybe it was the consequence of this act? The fact is, the car behind them loses control, which makes them crash. Does it matter? We’ll learn later that no, it doesn’t.

And yep... Christine dies. Have you noticed the shattered heart? Ah, the pain only gets better and better.

Again, Stephen blames himself. More than anything, this is so important because Stephen is all about guilt. We still need to meet Donna so we can add yet another layer of guilt. But the feeling exists. This is what corrupts Stephen’s heart and soul in all his iterations. This is what makes him the character I love so much. I love this SO. MUCH. In addition, his stubbornness to accept his condition. Man won’t take a no. This, this is Doctor Strange in character. Stop complaining about NWH Stephen, it’s pathetic.

Okay, “grief-stricken”, Stephen found the Mystic Arts and became a sorcerer. That’s when he learned about the Time Stone, the Eye of Agamotto and Dormammu. Nothing changes, he saves the universe. But time does not heal his deepest wound.

I love Wong so much. Every time Wong does something, the world is healed. Really. We’re going back to him as well but for now I’ll just leave this shot.

BUT STEPHEN, DOING SOMETHING RECKLESS? HE’D NEVAH

Aaaaaaaannnnnnd then he did.

He goes back in time. It’s been two years since he lost Christine. I think he reacted pretty nicely, despite the circumstances. Now let’s go back to that shot I said I was saving for later.

Stephen is so light-hearted here. Also, during the first time he lost Christine, he had no idea what “The Price is Right” was. He knows now, which means he probably tried to learn more about the show because of her, because of grief. HAHAHA MORE PAIN

AND THEN HE

AND THEN SHE DIES AGAIN

AND THEN HE KEEPS GOING BACK IN TIME

AND SHE KEEPS DYING

AND THE MUSIC

AND HIS VOICE

AND HE TRIES TO CHANGE FATE BUT IT CAN’T BE AVERTED

HE EVEN TRIES TO STAY AWAY FROM HER LIFE BUT SHE DIES ALL THE SAME, WHY

AND EVERY TIME THEY CRASH, HE FEELS THE PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL PAIN AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN, WHY

I’M-- *ugly sobbing noises*

Apparently, not.

And this scene when he simply... closes his eyes before she dies again...?

This is where this episode had me in endless tears. It got me the four times I watched it. I’m dead serious.

Okay, so, next the Ancient One appears to Stephen, explaining that Christine’s death is an Absolute Point in time. It cannot be changed. Stephen needs the accident to become the Sorcerer Supreme and defeat Dormammu.

And this is where Stephen starts his journey into darkness. “Nothing is impossible, you taught me that. I only require more power.” Disobeying the Ancient One, Stephen then travels in time, seeking the Library of Cagliostro. Now, if you’re not aware of that, Cagliostro was a sorcerer who studied time in comics, and later became Sise-Neg (there’s a recent post on this because of the new Defenders run). It’s funny to think that Sise-Neg also destroyed the world when he became a god, however he grew past his pettiness and remade reality. Stephen did not possess such power, as we’re about to see.

PS: “Stop torturing yourself, Stephen.” Naur but he should use this line like a mantra. Especially comics!Stephen.

Not gonna lie, tho. This place reminds me of the Temple of the Vishanti from T&T (of course I was going to insert T&T somewhere, it’s me).

And of course they’d go for a pun with his name haha. I don’t know how to feel about this, tho. I feel like the episode is too heavy and dark for comedy. But it is what it is.

Okay but why some books are in cages??????????? And wow, it seems Cagliostro also gathered knowledge about several fields of magic.

And then Stephen learns that, in order to break an Absolute Point, he needs to absorb more power. This is when I went “oh-oh, here we go”.

And for real, is this Shuma-Gorath? Why are they keeping his name a secret? Is this the same creature from the first episode with Captain Carter, right? RIGHT? It has to be Shuma-Gorath.

Of course he tries to be polite and ends up all hurt haha. O’Bengh warns him about love but he will not listen. “Love can break more than your heart. It can shatter your mind.”/ “Is she worth the pain?”. Please, this is Stephen. He eats pain for breakfast.

Also, also, let’s take a break. We’re finally going to get monsterf0cker tentacle-lover Stephen Strange. It will cost us everything but here we goooooooooooo (yes, I went frame by frame for your more obscure fanservice needs)

Gods, I love this sequence so much it hurts. Okay, here we go.

Shmebulock???????????

AND HE STOLE THE CAPE??????????? AND DREW THE LINE ON BUGS??????

The grasp this man is holding on me right now...

Some of you will understand. I’m with you.

And here are the grostesque ones. These are hard to take SS but I had to.

Animation, sound effects, OST? CHEF’S KISS TO ALL

And lastly... the tentacles. Yeah, if you’re new... this is a thing.

Fanservice. Fanservice everywhere. (low-key the reason I also waited to write this review, I wanted to enjoy this part so badly but I was too sad for that lmao)

Okay so. O’Bengh is suddenly OLD and DYING, until we realize that Stephen spent CENTURIES absorbing mystic beings. CENTURIES. WTF STEPHEN. He had nothing in mind but the goal to save Christine. And people wonder why he went insane???? I’m sorry, O’Bengh, but I can’t take you serious when you still call Stephen Sorcerer Armani. Oh, and also because you watched him absorb beings for centuries in silence lmao. But I guess I have to because you said that Stephen is split in two since the Ancient One cast a spell on him, splitting the timelines and making them exist in the same reality before he could travel back in time. I know, it’s complex. Anything for the plot.

And now good!Stephen has an evil!twin who wants to absorb him back in order to become whole and break the Absolute Point. Cool.

I said I wanted to talk more about Wong because I think people are not talking about him enough. Wong is so important in this episode. He’s the one who’s trying to heal Stephen after Christine. He’s Stephen’s anchor.

Also, THEY FINALLY USED A SPELL WITH THE NAME OF THE VISHANTI. HOORAAAAY

So, for the sake of our understanding, I’m addressing the characters as evil and good!Stephen. Let’s go. Evil!Stephen summons good!Stephen and gods, he still holds such a strong grasp on me... unbelievable. THE DEEPER VOICE BENEDICT USES???? PLEASE, DIDN’T WE HAVE ENOUGH?

Imagine his strength to hold so many beings inside him, fighting to control him. BRO, THIS IS TOO TOO MUCH

Fine, I’ll not post SS about the fight because I’d be here all night long but I WILL say this: NOT CLOAKIE!!!!! NAAAAAAAAAAUR

Also if you ask me if I recognize any of the spells? Maaaaybe the Flames of Faltine, the not-so-crimson Bands of Cyttorak and a little trick Magik does with her portals. That’s how far I go.

I’ll not comment on the “seducing yourself to stay in the trap”. I will not. I’ll just say that the first person Stephen thought of when “Christine” was talking about the crème brûlée was Wong. That’s it.

And finally evil!Stephen absorbs good!Stephen and releases... UNLIMITED POWER (I love when the stone goes red as if it was bleeding aaaaaaa)

I can fix him...

This scene here? Poetic cinema. (I love his wings so much)

And when Stephen says her name and the other monsters’ voices echo “Christine”, AAAAAACKKKK

AND OF COURSE CHRISTINE WOULD FREAK OUT, BRO. LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE BECOME BECAUSE OF YOUR TWISTED LOVE. I’M NOT DOING FINE.

Oh, but it’s too late anyways because Stephen broke reality haha. This scene is interesting because Stephen is the only one who sensed and/or talked to the Watcher until now. I read an interview that the Watcher kinda showed up but it’s also about Stephen’s keen senses. Bit of both, let’s say. Still, man, 616-Watcher is not that cold. 616-Watcher would watch this and say “how about I intervene anyway?”. WhatIf!Watcher is brutal.

The way Christine looks at Stephen one last time also KILLS ME, DESTROYS ME, BREAK ME INTO A MILLION PIECES.

And this is where my soul left my body.

This is how they end the episode. This is how you leave me speechless and with teary eyes. This is how you give me a whole existential crisis.

This... this was brutal to watch. Really.

What can I say after this? I’m used to reading painful things when it comes to Stephen. Aaron’s and Cates’ runs are heartbreaking on so many levels. Hickman’s New Avengers is not easier. Coincidentally, What If? Magik Became Sorcerer Supreme and The End. And now Death of Doctor Strange. And yet, after everything I’ve been through, I’d never expect to watch something so brilliant, so tragic, so heartbreaking and unexpected in the MCU. Never. This is top tier content and this is my favorite character with SO MANY LAYERS and SO MUCH UNDERSTANDING. I can’t put into words how meaningful this whole episode is to me, or how deep it touched my heart and soul.

I’ve been struggling to find the proper words since then, I still can’t. All I can add is, I cried for the 4th time now. This is too, too much, even for Stephen stans. Even for the ones who are used to pain, regardless of which media you’re into: comic books, live actions or animated movies. This is literally more than I can take and yet I’m so, so grateful. The voice acting, gods, how did Benedict manage to create a better Stephen than the one he’s literally playing in real life???????????? HOW

This episode really took the max potential Stephen had to offer as a character, added tons and tons of layers based on his grief, depression, arrogance and need to control everything and created a tragic masterpiece. In 7 years of being a Doctor Strange fan, I've never read or watch something that could go this deep into the character. The closest I can think of is Mr. Misery and the metaphor of Stephen's depression. This is a whole new level of respect and understanding. This is more than a love letter. This is peak maestry. It’s perfect, it’s heartbreaking, it’s... gods, I can’t.

Sorry for dragging you until this far. Before I wrap up this review, I just wanted to remind you all that Stephen will appear again, he will smile again, he will be surrounded by people again. So this is not the end. It was painful but be brave. We still have a few more steps to take.

#what if...? #doctor strange #stephen strange #what if doctor strange lost his heart instead of his hands? #wong #christine palmer #the ancient one #long post #review #he did nothing wrong #so what? he destroyed a whole universe #/j #benedict cumberbatch

[honeysucklepink]

Alex McDaniel July 21, 2021 10:55 am ET

There’s more than one moment in the fourth episode of Ted Lasso when I fall to pieces inside (and sometimes outside) no matter how many times I watch it.

It’s the night of AFC Richmond’s annual charity auction and the team’s owner, Rebecca Welton (played by the incomparable Hannah Waddingham), is running the show alone for the first time following a painfully public split from her ex-husband, Rupert. We already know Rebecca’s broader motivations at this point: She’s dead-set on burning her ex’s beloved football club to the ground after years of Rupert’s infidelity and the public humiliation that followed. What we don’t know is just how traumatizing her marriage really was or how it shaped Rebecca into someone fiercely determined to get revenge, regardless of how many innocent people she has to hurt to get it.

Rebecca is clearly at her breaking point by the time the auction begins. After  finalizing preparations and wrestling with herself over whether a stunning black gown is something she can still “pull off”, she finds out the gala’s musical guest, Robbie Williams, has canceled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Rupert (Anthony Head) shows up at the gala — because of course he does — though he had RSVP’d “no” — because of course he did.

We already knew Rupert was a lying, cheating liar, but it isn’t until a subtle comment to Rebecca that we start to realize the extent of the damage she’s recovering from in the aftermath of their marriage.

“Not too much champagne now, dear,” he tells her after she sips from her glass. “You’ve got to stay sharp for the auction.” It’s in this uncomfortable scene with Rebecca, Rupert and Ted (Jason Sudeikis) that we see her transform from a confident, commanding team owner to someone who suddenly can’t trust herself. She tells Rupert he should run the auction instead of her —”We both know they’d rather see you,” she says with no argument from him — and immediately leaves to collect herself.

There are many ways to emotionally abuse a person. Some do it with swift, painful blows to their target’s confidence. Some carefully gaslight their way into a position of dominance by reinforcing self-doubt at every opportunity. And some, like Rupert, do it with a dull knife, relying on years of tiny cuts of cruelty to slowly injure the other person until they no longer recognize who they are or how they’ve been so brutally wounded.

“That man, he knows me. I used to think his blunt honesty was noble rather than what it really is, which is just the cruelest way of hiding his own insecurities. He’d say wear this, eat that. And I listened. But now I’m alone. I’m alone, Ted. Just like he said I would be if I left. I don’t want to be alone.”

And that’s when I break. Every. Damn. Time. Because Ted Lasso, in all its beauty and award-winning brilliance, isn’t always an easy watch if you’ve been abused by a partner and left to clean up their mess. While I, like so many others, fell in love with this show for all of its warmth and goodness, I can’t ignore how drawn I was to Rebecca’s character because so many of us have lived through her experience, and more importantly, lived to tell about it.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when Waddingham recently said she drew on her own experiences in a past abusive relationship when performing the role. For those of us who’ve endured abuse only to further damage ourselves by seeking vengeance over healing, Rebecca represents the complex ugliness of recovery, how hurt people can hurt people in pursuit of peace.

For as much as this show does to deliver a model of kindness, optimism and forgiveness, it’s also explores human relationships in a way that shows you don’t need a clear-cut hero and villain to tell a compelling story about people — particularly a character like Rebecca who spends most of the first season driven by revenge. It’s why she hires Ted in the first place, despite his complete lack of experience. It’s why she’s initially able to resist his disarming personality and growing connection with the team despite their poor performance on the pitch.

It’s only late in the season, when Rupert cruelly shows up unannounced to tell her he and his new partner are expecting a child, that she realizes she’s never going to win at a game that requires hurting people, even if Rupert deserves to be on the receiving end of what he did to her.

Rebecca ultimately shows us there’s nothing pretty about processing relationship trauma and public humiliation — no magic scoreboard that can erase years of abuse if you have the upper hand. Even if she managed to destroy AFC Richmond, the thing Rupert (allegedly) loves most, it wouldn’t change what he did to her during their marriage or the damage he caused. And it certainly won’t absolve her of the responsibility to make amends with those she hurt when she was married or the people she’s hurting now by deliberately sabotaging a community’s beloved football club.

The catch is you can’t fully heal that kind of abuse without exhibiting the same vulnerability that led to being hurt in the first place, and that’s what we see when she finally comes clean to Ted about her intentions and gives him the freedom to destroy her reputation as a result. It requires more strength to do that than to act out of anger and spite. Anyone can pursue revenge. Not everyone can choose to surrender and start over.

That’s the pain and promise of Ted Lasso, a show buoyed by the power of personal connection. If Ted is intended to show us our highest potential as human beings, Rebecca shows us what happens when we’re so afraid of not deserving that connection that we’ll do anything to save face. She wanted so badly for her ex-husband to shoulder the burden of her own suffering. And it took being loved by good people to make her realize payback was only stealing her peace.

The beauty of Rebecca’s character lies in the complexity of who we can become as a result of being hurt, for better or worse. In a world where most of us out here are scared to death of being seen for who we are, Ted Lasso is a show that simply won’t let us avoid the pain of the human experience.

Instead, it shows us why that pain is necessary, why it matters, and why we don’t have to endure it alone.

#ted lasso #rebecca welton #hannah waddingham #alex mcdaniel #for the win #usa today

[julieloveupstead]

"I'm Never Leaving You" - Upstead

Description: A story inspired by the events of the last episode of the season and what might happen in season 9 in Hailey and Jay's lives. I really hope you guys enjoy it.

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CHAPTER 1

- Are you sure you want to be there? - Jay asked for a split second, turning his head away from the road and looking at his girlfriend with worry. Hailey rolled her eyes, hearing the question once again.

- Yeah. I'm sure. - She answered in a hoarse and tired voice, and it required all the strength she had left after all the events that had happened today to sound convincing. Jay just nodded even though he was still worried, but he knew Hailey needed something to keep her thoughts diverted to something else, so he let it go.

Hailey knew that Jay was worried, that he wanted to help her, but she couldn't do anything about it, something inside her had changed after what had happened in that warehouse. She felt like she had reached a wall, like she was finally at her breaking point, and she didn't see how to turn around, how to get out of it and how to get back on track again. She did not know. Furthermore, she turned her gaze away from the window and looked at Jay, who was now driving, and watched him for a moment and though slowly returned her thoughts to the conversation that had taken place less than an hour ago in her-and for the past few weeks-their flat.

Entering the flat, she didn't know how she had managed to get there all right and without causing any accidents. She felt as if everything from breathing to walking was being done by someone else, and she was just watching, and it was only when she saw Jay at home and felt his tender touch on her shoulder that her emotional bubble burst and everything hit her. She could barely bring herself not to start crying in front of Jay. Standing there in the middle of the room, looking into her green eyes full of love and worry, she wanted to tell him everything, but it occurred to her how much she had let him down. And she was convinced that as soon as Jay found out what Hailey had done he would leave her and want nothing to do with her, and she would be left to live with the knowledge that she had once again hurt someone she cared about so much, loved so much. In truth, what she felt for him was unmatched by anything else, not even Garrett and her shared such a deep feeling as she and Jay did. What they have is something completely different, something special, something that could be something lasting. For the first time in her more than twenty years of life, she felt happy, loved and safe, and that's why she was in so much pain about what was happening now. And she was afraid of what would happen to her if Jay, after finding out the truth, slammed the door, and she was forced to be alone with her thoughts and guilt and self-loathing, and it was that fear so terribly paralyzing that she didn't want to tell him, wanted to lie to him, but a little voice in her head kept repeating to her the words Jay had spoken over the years of their partnership and being together:

"We're good. We're always going to be good."

"Hailey, I'd follow you anywhere"

"I'm not going anywhere really, I'm not"

"I love you"

And maybe that determined that she would take the risk and tell him everything after all, but that stupid panicky voice in her head repeating that he was going to leave her was circulating and even getting louder and maybe that caused her to say those words:

"Maybe we should get married"

The first time she said the phrase, she was surprised, and she saw the same thing in Jay's eyes. And so maybe it was too soon, maybe at the wrong time, but somehow she felt that this was what she really wanted to do. She wanted to spend her whole life with him and most of all she wanted to be the first to do something under the influence of impulse, under the influence of selfishness, and she wanted to stop at all costs something that was good in her life.

She didn't have to wait for Jay's answer because she knew he wanted the same thing, but he's too honest, too good to make decisions seeing her in this state, wrecked, barely holding on mentally, in a loop of conflicting emotions. And all he's done is saying that he's here and nothing and no one will bail him out, and he'll be by her side for better or worse without question.

Hailey in his embrace so strong and powerful, where she felt so safe let go of all her barriers and told her everything. Jay never once interrupted her but listened attentively, holding her close, so she knew he was beside her and not going anywhere. When she finished with fearful and weeping eyes she looked at the boy and waited fearfully for his reaction. She had expected everything from silence to an outburst of rage, disappointment and a slamming of the door after he left leaving her, but nothing like that happened. Jay invariably told her that he was there for her, that it wasn't her fault, that it was Voight's fault for taking advantage of her good and pure heart and still said he loved her and that they would work something out together.

She couldn't believe that Jay even after she told him that she had killed a man, that she had let herself be manipulated by their Sergeant, he was still there for her. Just when she thought she couldn't love him anymore she caught herself that she was wrong after all.

Hailey put her head against the glass and closed her eyes, wishing that this day was over and that everything that had happened today was just a bad dream.

- Angel - she heard Jay's warm whisper by her ear. Apparently she was more tired than she thought since she fell asleep. She looked with sleepy eyes at the man crouching on her side of the door, nodded and straightened up, looking around. - We are already outside the hospital - she nodded, recognizing the building. Jay held out his hand, which she accepted, and helped her out of the truck. Jay intertwined their fingers and squeezed hard.

Hailey tried to focus on the feel of Jay's hand in hers and how her body was reacting to it. How her thoughts automatically calmed, how a simple touch could cause something like safety. Hailey had learned from a young age that touch was something associated with pain, not love, and especially not with the notion of safety she felt with her boyfriend. And after what had happened today with Kim and what had happened in that damn warehouse, that was exactly how she felt. Like a confused little girl who was just waiting for the next blow and all she needed right now was to hide and close her eyes and pray that the nightmare would end.

But the closer they got to the building, the more it came to her that she would have to look into the eyes of her friends who would want explanations that she didn't want and couldn't say, and more than anything it terrified her to see the Sergeant. After what he forced her to do today, she didn't feel like looking at him, just thinking about him made her stomach clench, and she felt like throwing up. Suddenly, she let go of Jay's hand and ran to the side to throw up.

- What's wrong? - A worried Jay ran after her. He put his hand on her back drawing reassuring patterns and grabbed her hair to keep it out of her way. He was concerned about her condition, but felt helpless. Likewise, he wanted so much to relieve her, to take this burden off her, but he didn't know how to do it. - I am with you, Angel. It is all right now. I am here. - He repeated in a calm and tender voice, trying to sound confident so as not to show how much it hurt him to see her suffering so much.

- I am sorry - she whispered after a while, he had to strain to hear. Seeing Hailey like that broke his heart into a million little pieces.

- You have nothing to be sorry for, Angel. It's okay. I'm here. - He whispered - Maybe you want to go home? - Jay crouched down beside Hailey and continued to make patterns on her back, tears welling up in his eyes at the sight of his beloved suffering.

- No, we need to be with Kim, she needs us. - she said in a weak voice. When Hailey looked at him, he saw a new batch of tears running down her cheeks, and he really couldn't do anything to stop his own from flowing anymore.

- Hailey - he wanted to say something else, but Hailey interrupted him.

- Jay, please - she said, he could see she was trying with all her might to stop crying. Everything in him was screaming, he wanted to take her home, embrace her and never let her go and never let her suffer again.

- Good - he agreed, because what else could he do. - Are you ready? - he asked himself and when she nodded they both got up and headed for the building.

Entering the hospital, the first person they noticed was Will, who was waiting for them in the waiting room.

- 'Hey, how's Kim? - Jay spoke up, approaching his brother.

- 'She's still in surgery. Dr. Crockett is doing the best he can. Time will tell. The important thing is that she's fighting. - He said in a tired voice. Jay and Hailey nodded as they processed the doctor's words. Looking at Will, it hadn't escaped the two detectives' notice that he was standing in front of them in his regular clothes instead of a doctor's gown and from what Jay remembered his brother had the night shift today, and he hadn't said anything about schedule changes. Jay sensed that something must have happened, but this was not the time to ask. - Come on, I'll take you to your colleagues - Will moved off and Jay and Hailey followed him - Will Is V... Is Voight sitting there too? - Jay' couldn't help but notice how Hailey's body was holding its breath waiting for his brother's answer. He could also feel her all hurried up and with panic evident on her face, she looked around looking for the Sergeant. To support her, he squeezed her joined hand tighter and drew reassuring glances with his thumb to try and snap her out of her dark thoughts

- No, I don't think so. At least I haven't seen him, and I've been here for a while. - Will walking next to Jay replied with a shake of his head. - 'Are you okay, Hailey? - He asked, worried by the blonde's behavior. The doctor had to admit that he had never seen her like this before, and seeing how after his negative answer she let out a breath and relaxed a little he looked at his younger brother who only shook his head and by the look he knew he wouldn't know more, so he dropped the subject.

Hailey didn't even know how relieved she would feel after hearing that Voight was gone, but some part of her needed proof that the gray-haired man was gone and when she finally saw that in the hallway outside the room where Kim should have been after the surgery, that apart from Kevin, Trudy, some woman who she guessed and remembered from stories and from photos was Kim's sister, and she saw Adam sitting in the furthest possible corner there was no one else. Her body, though, slowly relaxed enough to be able to let go of her boyfriend's hand and approach them to quietly tag along.

Jay had been watching her vigilantly the whole time, he could see how the news that Voight was gone had reassured her and him too. He didn't yet know what she would do when she saw him, and he knew that sooner or later he would come here anyway. He hoped as late as possible, though.

- Hey, is Hailey okay? - asked his brother quietly, standing next to him.

- No - Jay didn't see the point in lying to Will. Jay knew that his older brother also liked Hailey a lot and that he was worried about her. He had been very happy when Will and Hailey had become friends and teasing the two of them about it hadn't been so terrible, and the sight of Hailey laughing when Will told another story from their childhood had been his favorite sound even before he and Hailey had been a couple. Now that they are together, Will is very supportive of him and makes sure he doesn't do stupid things, for which he is grateful. It's nice to know there's someone else besides him who cares about his Angel, and there's no one he trusts more than Will.

- So why don't you two go home? No one's going to get in to see Kim today anyway, and her condition won't change from the way you're here. - suggested the elder.

- No - nodded the brunet. - 'Hailey wants to be here. She needs this. - He explained in a whisper, looking at the girl sitting next to Kevin. She had always seemed small to him and even though he knew that Hailey was able to take care of herself, he felt a special care for her, but now it all had a different meaning. He sat down next to her on the plastic chair and pulled her tightly to him. Hailey snuggled into him, and he kissed the top of her head.

Everyone sat in silence waiting for any news on Kim, Hailey finally managed to fall asleep and Jay couldn't sleep. He kept having the recent events and the sight of Hailey suffering in his mind. He tried to think of ways to help her, but nothing sensible came up, which irritated him even more. What kind of boyfriend is he if he can't help his own girlfriend. How could he not notice how Voight was manipulating Hailey, after all, this was practically happening right in front of his eyes. That trip Hailey took to New York seemed suspicious to him, and he already felt an uncomfortable sense of déjà vue, and he did nothing about it. And that incident a few days ago where Hailey wanting to prove to Voight that our relationship had no bearing on the quality of her operations had entered that house without a warrant and the mere fact that he'd started meddling in their lives was enough to finally set off a clear red light for him. He should have talked to him then, but Hailey didn't want any more problems, so he let it go. And today as he separated them he felt a strange pressure in his chest, as if he felt something bad might have happened, but again he said nothing, did nothing. Now it came to him that what had happened, what his girlfriend, the most wonderful person, the woman of his life had gone through was his fault. He laid his head so that his cheek touched the top of Hailey's head and closed his eyes to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. How could he let this happen.

After some time, a characteristic hoarse voice reached Jay's ears, at which he put his arms around the girl, who was now sitting, or rather sleeping, on his lap. He didn't know what he should do now, but he knew that as soon as he saw Voight he would explode, and besides, he knew that Hailey wasn't ready to face the Sergeant, and besides, he himself wouldn't let that man hurt his Angel again.

- Will - he whispered to his brother sitting across from him. - I think we will go home after all, but I would like to leave without prying eyes. - If Will was surprised by Jay's question, he didn't show it, but just nodded and stood up.

Jay took Hailey in his arms bridal style and followed his brother.

- 'Jay, are you okay? - asked the elder once they were outside Jay's car.

Jay gently placed Hailey in the passenger seat and buckled her seat belt. He gently closed the door and looked at his brother.

- 'No,' he sighed and returned his gaze to the sleeping Hailey. The sight of the now peaceful girl soothed his shattered nerves, but as soon as he remembered her terrified look, her weeping face, her petite body trembling with terror. And the most shattering situation for him was the terrified look when Hailey was afraid that if he found out what she had done he would leave her and stop loving her, so she wanted to hold him by proposing to him. God, when he first heard her ask if he was going to get married his heart stopped, and he couldn't believe once again that such a wonderful, amazing person chose him out of all men, for every cop's dream job to spend his life with. Ever since he'd been with Hailey, he'd dreamed of nothing but proposing to her and then vowing his eternal love to her. He even already had a place picked out where he wanted to propose to her and get married. That's why he wanted so badly to say yes, but he knew from her face that it wasn't appropriate, that the proposal should be a special memory. And when he heard from Hailey what had happened, he knew he had done the right thing, even though it broke his heart. He closed his eyes as he felt tears come to his eyes again.

- 'What happened, Jay? - he asked as he walked over to his brother Will and put his hand on his brother's back in a caring gesture. - Something bad. - Jay looked at his brother, no longer fighting back tears. - Voight hurt Hailey, and I let it happen. Will, I couldn't see the most obvious signals, I trusted a man, and he hurt my Angel. I let Hailey... - Jay plugged his mouth, silencing the moan of despair that escaped from his throat. - Jay, what the hell are you talking about? - It had been a long time since Will had seen his younger brother in such disarray, which worried him, and knowing that Hailey wasn't in any better shape even more terrified him. What the hell happened out there? He asked himself this question while looking at his crying brother. - 'Never mind, I shouldn't say anything, it's just this thing, you know? - explained Jay quickly, realizing what he had just done. He looked at the redhead and wiped the tears from his cheeks. - Will, you don't have to worry about us. We'll be fine - he said, seeing the worried look in his brother's eyes.

- 'Okay, but if you want to talk then call me, you can both call me whenever you want. - Will offered, not convinced by his young brother's explanation. Jay nodded his thanks for the offer, then walked around the car and got in. A few seconds later, Hailey and Jay drove off.

#upstead #upstead fic #upstead fanfiction #jay halstead #hailey upton

[onlyhereforangst]

WWR

I’m baaaaack bitches 😘 let’s be honest the last two episodes were shit & you wouldn’t have wanted that wwr anyways. SO let’s get into the ✨angst✨ that was Nick’s episode under the cut…

Oh but before I start, why yes, yes I called this theory too. Me and this writer share a goddamn brain or something because I’ve literally always guessed big plot points of his episodes correctly 😅

Ok Nick’s dad leaving like that, with poor bby Nick all sweet asking if he promises to bring him back his favorite pastry and him hesitating before he’s going to promise- NO. 

*picture Michael Scott gif here*

It’s not faaaaaair, little Nick deserved so much better- so MUCH better. And it’s only going to get worse as the episode goes on, so strap in for the walk down emo lane. 

Quick pit stop for cute banter because duh. Nick giving the real estate agent Ellie’s number cracks me up because bro you want this house with her don’t you 👀 you still keep her business cards on you when you could have just as easily gotten your own (or McGee’s) by this point 👀 you just want to maaaaarry her and move iiiiiiin with her I knooooooow it 👀 Ellie’s reaction the split second we see also has me dying because she’s like ha ha this is funny you had to talk to real estate agent you drew the short straw hey wait what the fu— you did not! Before McGee interrupts any protest she can hurl back Nick’s way and that’s just gold right there. Pure middle school flirting as per usual for them and I love it.

Oooooooh Kasie’s lab scene. The growth in this one. Nick worried his family and by extension him, is going to get implicated for murder (or is guilty) even though it sounds outrageous to him, he’s got PTSD from Mona Lisa (and who wouldn’t tbh). But Ellie immediately, like IMMEDIATELY goes and defends him. Is like uh-uh don’t even GO there, it’s not a possibility its just person of interest I don’t care if it’s literal hair at the scene of a man stabbed brutally seven times, he’s not a murderer. The grooooooowth Ellie, I’m so proud of you 🥺 we went from using that logical head to realizing it’s ok to listen to your heart and wade into situations with empathy (especially for the boy you ~*looOOoOoOve*~) And then Nick talking about his dad being dead and a deadbeat and walking out when he was 5, he looks at Ellie almost the entire time, only barely glancing over at McGee like he needs to have that connection with her, she grounds him when this is suddenly very jarring having a relative by semi-involved in a murder. And Ellie isn’t the slightest bit shocked when Nick dumps this news so clearly she’s heard it and by her look, not only has she heard this, but she does not like the man for what he did to Nick. She looks pissed his father hurt Nick like that because how dare any one hurt her man 😤

And oh here it is, we back on emo lane. Nick recognizing and seeing his dad for the first time in 30 years. It’s gonna hit like a 🎵freeeeeight traaaain🎵 at first he can’t even believe its him, he blinks like a thousand times because *surely* his eyes are deceiving him and then his dad goes and uses his nickname, his nickname people the CRUELTY. YOU DON’T GET TO JUST SHOW UP THIRTY YEARS LATER AND CALL HIM BY HIS CUTE LITTLE NICKNAME YOU GAVE HIM AS A CHILD. YOU DON’T MIGUEL. NOT IN THIS GD HOUSE. Ok and now nick is in pure shock because he just got confirmation that his dad is not only *not* dead, but he’s here in front of him, in DC no less, possibly a murderer no less. AND he’s finding this out by chasing him down *not* by Miguel reaching out to him while in DC. The shock and confusion and hurt my poor baby.

And when that shock wears off and it’s just barely contained rage, my heart 🥺 so of course Ellie goes in there with him and nows she needs to immediately be the support she knows he needs but he won’t admit to needing. Nick tries to deflect with a joke at first but oh honey it’s no use. But quick comedic relief for us on emo lane “sit down, no I don’t like sitting” AHAHAHA like father like son I’m cackling because the look Ellie and nick share and nick’s eyes warn her like don’t you dare fucking say it and she’s like yep yep nope I wasn’t gonna say a damn thing I’ll just look down and try to contain my laughter because now is NOT the time. But see I’m on my couch and I can laugh all I damn well please at this scenario that was gold from the writers thank you. On a more serious level this probably hurt nick even more seeing that he’s even got the smallest something similar to his dad. He’s probably desperate to be the exact opposite, he doesn’t want to even consider being capable of what his father was capable so this - while seemingly insignificant - thing like not wanting to sit in a chair will hit deep for him without him realizing it. If something so trivial is the exact same, wouldn’t something much much heavier like commitment to relationships and family be the exact same? Wouldn’t it?? And good god poor nick for going through that mental anguish, on emo rollercoaster lane. Because it just gets better when Miguel’s excuse for being in DC is “visiting family” like call your BULLSHIT Miguel you certainly ain’t visiting family and Nick now knows oh he lies too, great, another win for the Torres blood, fan-fucking-tastic. 

Quick peek at viewing room and we don’t believe in personal space, Ellie wants to be as close as possible to her hurting bby 🥺

But back to the emo stuff - Miguel just lying off his ass and Nick fed up with his father’s games because it’s truly just twisting that knife in his back that’s been stuck there for 30 years deeper and deeper. AND THEN Miguel has the audacity to yell out for “Nico” like bitch you do NOT get to call him that either. You walked out on him and never came back gtfo. And Ellie is trying so hard to keep it together but man she wants to do one of two things if not both at the same time - wrap Nick up in her arms and shield him from this deadbeat and/or punch this man through the glass to cause just a fraction of the hurt he caused Nick. But instead she just has to keep her cool to be the supportive girlfriend she is and ask nick what he thinks and then. Then. “He’s lying…because his lips are moving”

Well FUCK. Murder me right now. The anguuuuuuuish. Poor five year old Nick in a 35 year old Nick’s body. That little boy who was promised a big hojaldre in the morning from the next town over is right there. Right there to witness the father he thought he had, hasn’t changed. One of the only memories Nick probably has of his father is him leaving. Him lying and leaving. And what does he do when he finally shows up again? 

HE LIES AND LEAVES. HE FUCKING LIES AND LEAVES. (I know I’m getting ahead and technically at this point we don’t know he’ll leave again but whatever sue me because this shit is too much.)

Side note: Ellie talking about a “conflict of interest” that Nick didn’t interrogate his father is laughable considering she should have never interrogated Xavier but ok. 

Ooooo lets see some pissed off Nick. Let it loose baby, you deserve this. And I know I wrote about this in the tags somewhere but can we take a second to appreciate McGee’s growth??? Like bro went from straight up denial to acceptance and giving Ellie the look of “go talk to your boyfriend ok we need to make sure he’s alright and we both know your support is going to go a lot further than my support” and Ellie wordlessly kNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S SAYING. She’s like yeah, of course I’ll go help my man why wouldn’t I. 

I don’t know why but Ellie asking Nick if he’s talked to his “mom and sister” is just so 🥰 I can’t explain this one to you but I love this dialogue ok. Actually I love this whole ensuing conversation. Nick still is bitter (he has every gd right to be), Ellie playing the supportive girlfriend but *tiiiiiniest* bit of devil’s advocate with saying he might be innocent. Once again, so much growth because honestly she knows what it’ll do to Nick if his dad actually *is* a murderer. Like can we for a second imagine if his dad actually was guilty, right? Nick already saw he was like his dad in trivial things like not wanting to sit in chairs. Nick has already had serious, serious doubts to what he’s capable of aka worried he could, if the right buttons were pushed, be a murderer on multiple occasions. Ellie has been there with him for all of that, she knows how low his confidence is when it comes to his perceived “goodness” and she knows just how much it would break him if he learned his direct bloodline IS capable of murder. She knows how he’d spiral if that was true and so she’s gripping to any small possibility his dad is innocent. But nick, oh poor Nick my heart- he’s done. He opens up to Ellie without literally any prodding. He’s baring his long buried soul to her, that troubled, broken childhood that he surely keeps locked away in fear of letting anyone see a weakness. He bares it without question because he feels so safe in her presence he can let her in to see his deepest shame and by extension his deepest worry 🥺🥺🥺 and poor Ellie, she’s a little lost at how to go about helping him because she does have a good relationship with her dad, so yes all she has here for him is saying his father was guilty of a crap dad but it’s because she’s still trying to convince them both he has to be good. He has to be good for Nick’s sake. Buuuuuuut it doesn’t really work does it, because oh shit pissed the fuck off Nick is a site to behold isn’t it 🥵 kicking down doors once again and his smart “still think he’s innocent” oooooooo damn. Ellie’s face says it all- she’s trying so hard to hold out hope for Miguel, so hard. She needs him to be innocent she’s willing to speak it into existence a thousand times but her face is like fuck this is going to kill him and I can’t do a damn thing about it other than just watch. 

More pissed off Nick 🥵 but when you think about it is so so painful, all I can picture is that little 5 year old boy who woke up the next morning waiting, waiting, and waiting. Staring out the window at each car that slows down but ultimately passes. Tugging on his Mami’s shirt asking for the hundredth time when papi is coming back from the bakery with his hojaldre, oblivious to the tears that are slowly sliding down her cheek because she still can’t find the words to tell him what she knows deep down. That little boy who when the sun starts to set the confusion sets in with it. Why hasn’t my papi come back yet? Where is he? He promised. The sadness and sense of rejection that starts to fill his little heart when his mami tucks him and his sister into bed and he asks one final time where papi is and will he say goodnight to them and his Mami has to say she’s not sure when he’s coming home and quietly to the side, “if he’s coming home.” The little boy who weeks later has finally abandoned watching out the window every, single morning. The little boy who had his heart ripped out and thrown to the side of the road when he realized his papi didn’t go to the bakery and instead he was thrown out by his father like a day-old hojaldre. So yeah pissed Nick is fine af but good god the angst underneath is suffocating. Because Nick in this moment doesn’t know the *true* reason Miguel left. He knows what he lived and what he lived is a piece of shit. Nick’s response to “is that what you think of me” is amicable because OOF he could’ve gone the fuck off right there and told him what he really thought of him but he stuck with only a slight dig. TO WHICH MIGUEL. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. IT HASN’T HURT YOU MUCH. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. FUCK YOU. SOUNDS LIKE YOU WERE A SHIT DAD SO YEAH PROBABLY A GOOD THING YOU LEFT. THANK HIM NICK WITH YOUR FISTS BECAUSE HE’S A LITTLE SHIT. FUCK YOU MIGUEL. TOUGHENED HIM UP SO MUCH HE SHUTS EVERYONE OUT. YEAH FUCK YOU. 

And then man here is the point where it all just muddies in Nick’s mind. The poor dude. He knows this line of work, hell he was undercover for almost a decade. He understands how that leaves almost no room for a family. He gets it, so deep deep deep down a tiny part of him realizes why Miguel likely *thought* it was ok to ditch his family. But for thirty years he’s felt abandoned- no reasoning can change that. 

“It’s good to know he was making a nice living while my family was starving” fucking GET HIM NICK. Damn I wish Miguel had been in the room for that. He deserved to hear that one. Ruthless. 

I do not know how I missed this the first time around but holy shit Nick asked to be removed from the case. Nicholas Torres- a man who does not back down. A man who bullied his way into finishing his first ever case with this team that he was arguably way too close to that one too. This is how much pain Miguel brings him. A man who does not quit, not in his vocabulary - was so pissed at getting sent home back when Reeves died, he asks to get sidelined. He actually asks to get sidelined. Holy shit Miguel did a number on Nick and I mean we knew this but 🥺😭😭 poor bby. No wonder you don’t trust yourself in a serious relationship. It’s not the girl you’re worried about it’s you. You don’t think you’re capable of staying, you’re terrified you’ll be just like your dad and leave. once again, you’ve seen the similarities with trivial things and so this just cements your fear of failing at commitment. And this is Nick in just so much pain he asks to step back. oof. I do love Leon stepping into a slight fatherly role for Nick right there though, he shows his support, his pride in Nick and in that moment I think Nick realizes while his father by blood is shit, he’s got several other strong role models in his life that care and that’s why he agrees to work with him. 

Nick’s smarts comment about leaving the note behind 🤣 oh classic Torres move. Also do yourself a favor and pause it on Ellie’s reaction to him. GOLD hahaha she’s like ooo-kay did you really feel the need to say that, let’s not. Honestly I think I’ve given this look to my husband almost daily. They married y’all. 

So married that she overhears Miguel trying to talk to Nick and her hackles raise!!! She’s like hold the fuck up do not traumatize my baby even more, Nick do you need me??? Because I will get you out of this, I will be here for you, I will fight this man, just say the damn word!!!! And Nick ugh, his look. They can communicate with just a simple look, he knows all that she would do for him in that moment and still nods her off, but that tiny bit of gratitude is present. Then we find out that yes Grace is really good at guessing theories “in order to keep his young family safe, it means he has to leave. Of course he can’t *tell* them why he has to leave so that they continue to stay innocent and safe. So he plays it like he’s a deadbeat dude who was “too young” to be a father and is just now realizing it and leaves his wife, little daughter & son behind. Flash forward thirty years and the NCIS case leads them to him. A piece of evidence pops up with his alias, they go knocking down doors to interrogate a potential suspect (Nick’s father) before our lovely CIA agent interfere and claims he’s innocent because he’s a CI…” like DAMN, I’m good. Hahaha any ways the reason I bring this up is because I feel like I predicted/analyzed Nick’s feelings really well back then in this theory and after seeing his expressions, they hold true. Nick is just absolutely warring with himself during this explanation, searching for anything to confirm his dad truly is a deadbeat (and yes he is still absolutely a piece of shit for what he did, but there’s a “good” reason for his leaving and that’s what makes it so- hard.) and as I said when I first broke this down, Nick understands undercover work and his dad (being the POS he is) brings that up to Nick. Like he should “get” it because wouldn’t he do the same thing since he’s in that life? But here’s where (and Nick doesn’t totally realize it yet) Nick and Miguel are different. Because Nick came back, Nick stayed. He stayed y’all and he says it here but he does not realize the implications of his words quite yet. He is NOT the same as Miguel. Yeah he doesn’t like to sit in chairs but he has stayed. He has stayed through some tough shit too but he’s stayed nonetheless. More than Miguel could ever fucking say, that’s for sure. So yes, when Nick has the come to Jesus and realizes that he is not the same as his dad and he can and will stay? Damn I can’t wait for that moment. Also I wanted to slap Miguel when he called Nick “mijo” because BITCH YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM THAT. YOU DO NOT GET TO CALL HIM YOUR SON. NO. “I’m not perfect but I did the best I could” well fuck you too Miguel because look at this broken five year old boy inside a thirty five year old man’s body. Does that look like the product of a “best you could”?? Does he look “ok” to you??? Fuck you. 

But yes here’s my take on where Nick is at: how do you forgive someone you’ve despised for thirty years once you know they “didn’t have a choice” (even though it will always feel like they had a choice or they could’ve explained it to you even if you were only five) and left in reality token you safe and give you a better chance at life? How do you reconcile the real dad and the one you lived with in your head for so long?? How???

And then you’re stuck still reeling from the night before and the bomb that was dropped and the reconciliation you’re attempting to your dad bringing in the ONE THING. The ONE THING he promised to bring home in the morning thirty years prior. How the actual fuck does one come back from that. Can I give another big FUCK YOU to Miguel Torres? Because seriously??? Why do you ever think that’s ok??? Hey I promised my kid I’d bring him hojaldres in the morning for breakfast thirty years ago so may as well make good on that promise right, only thirty years late that’s totally fine right? He won’t tell the difference right?

Fuck you, Miguel. 

And they’re still clearly Nick’s favorite because he’s brought Jimmy to a restaurant specifically for them and that just makes my heart break for the man he had to become without a father. He still held onto that love for them even though they were probably always associated with a horrible, horrible memory of being abandoned 🥺🥺 god damn Nick you’re so broken I’m so sorry. 

Ellie is still as supportive as ever and good god we clearly have lost all pretense of personal space at this point, what is her we don’t know her isn’t this normal for coworkers? But this conversation implies he called her after his talk with his dad and ugh yesssss 😩❤️ I still think he called her immediately after leaving the building, talked the entire car ride home and while getting ready for bed, needing the comfort of her voice on the other end of the line as he worked through his whirlwind of emotions and tried to come down off the cliff he felt himself on. All pretenses of a bad boy with a mysterious flare forever gone, his heart is open for her to see and he doesn’t give two shits about it anymore. But Ellie does a damn good job of girlfriend duties here and not only supports him but also gently prods him to see if he can maybe one day have a relationship with his father. The parallels she brings up makes him think (and also makes him look at her lips twice 👀 he’s just so close to her how could he not I mean right 😅) and I love that she’s still being v supportive but also trying to help him grow. 

And then Ellie giving Nick the option to go with his dad or go to the other location because she’s not going to push anything on him he doesn’t want and then when he chooses the embassy to avoid his dad her reaction had me laughing 🤣 but she respects it. And yet shortly after Miguel tries to team up with Nick and Ellie hears it from the other side of the bullpen, immediately all ears to step in if he wants to avoid him again despite giving him flack for it earlier. Nick can sense her worry and support and this is the moment he takes her advice in just a tiny step and accepts teaming up with his dad. But OMG KILL ME WHEN NICK THINKS HIS DAD IS DEAD BEFORE HE GETS TO TRY AT A RELATIONSHIP AGAIN. HIS WHISPERED “papa’s” I CAAAAAN’T. 

Ugh and then his last conversation with his dad while Ellie is checking on him constantly. It’s just too much, that little boy is back, desperately hoping for his dad to stick around. And Ellie is just so happy she can’t contain it for him and it’s perfect. He walks right to her, her hand on his back because they just need to touch each other after such a heavy couple of days and Nick echoes her advice back at her because he’s showing he listens and he values her insight and I just love it. 

AND THEN MIGUEL HAS COME TO RIP MY HEART OUT BECAUSE HE’S A PIECE OF SHIT REMEMBER. 

My poor bby Nick’s face when he realized his dad LIES AND LEAVES. REMEMBER. HE LIES AND LEAVES. God Wilmer killed it because Nick is literally on the verge of tears and my heart breaks and then yes he goes to Gibbs to see his pseudo-father who he then realizes is more of a father figure than Miguel will ever be and hell that’s okay but STILL. 

I will end this WWR with a I love supportive girlfriend Ellie and another big Fuck You to Miguel Torres.

Goodnight.

#ellick #ncis #wwr #18x12 #there's a lot of yelling #there's a lot of swearing #there's just a lot yall #this ep was angst central and you know me 😅 #enjooooooy #hopefully i can get 18x13 out tomorrow before 18x14 lol

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Always made to break (S.M.)

Summary: Shawn meets someone who reawakens his soul and makes him question his choices in love. 

Warnings: swearing, slight angst, fluff

Word count: 4k

A/N - I’ve had this in my drafts for a while, so I decided to post it and see how you guys like it, so let me know if you want more.

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''Were you ever going to tell me?“ She practically growled at Shawn as she threw a magazine in his lap, the tone she used scaring him enough to look up at her face, the beautiful features now twisted with rage and disappointment, something he never wanted to see her direct at him.

''I don't unders-'', but then he saw just what she meant, seeing his face attached to Camilla's on the front page of a random gossip magazine. He knew why she was looking at him with such fire in her eyes, and not the kind he expected to see in the bedroom, but the purest form of hatred mixed with pain.

''Not only did you poise as some poor photography student, but you also claimed you're single?! How stupid can I be, right?“ She put her right hand on her hip, using the back of her left one to wipe under her nose although nothing was there but a fathom sensation of coldness he had caused her insides now manifesting on the outside as well. She didn't shed a single tear yet, her anger not allowing her heartbreak to show.

It is better to hate him for his lies than to feel sorry for herself, she decided.

''I didn't want to...“ Shawn trailed off, unable to find the words. He, a man of many words, a person who had always managed to put his emotions in the most eloquent of ways had found himself speechless at a time he needed his words the most.

''Didn't want what? To tell me you're rich and famous? That you're dating a star? Huh?!“ She huffed, her eyes burning him with the intensity of the unrestrained pit of bursting flames within.

''What was this to you? Huh? A joke? Did it make you feel good to make me the fool?!“ She shouted, the raw emotion ripping her throat like a thousand razorblades.

Bowing his head down, Shawn swallows thickly, his eyes filling with tears he knew would only anger her more in this moment. He doesn't get to cry over breaking her heart, he just doesn't.

At the beginning

It was supposed to be a calm, ordinary Monday morning for Shawn. After months on the road, it was nice to be back home for a short break from the stage and screaming fans, just him and his earplugs and a good cup of coffee. It was supposed to be a regular, lonesome morning to start the day off right, but things never really work out the way we want them to.

Whether he meant to sit in that particular café, in that particular chair, with that particular song playing as he lazily glanced around before taking the first sip of his coffee, Shawn had started a chain of events that would lead him into a world of trouble, yet unimaginable love and heartache.

In that lazy glance, Shawn had managed to catch a young girl's eye, his curls falling over his eyes obscuring his vision. She had merely smiled at him, so sweetly, so shyly, enough for Shawn to return the gesture. Her eyes fell back on her phone and he assumed she was likely sending a message to all her friends about seeing THE Shawn Mendes, probably posting a sneakily taken photo of him in his moment of supposed tranquility as well.

It's not as if he's not used to it, but Shawn really hoped he'd have this morning to himself, a moment to put his thoughts in proper order and a second to breathe. He's been having his picture taken every day, multiple times by fans and paparazzi, especially since he started the whole agreement with Camila and her team.

Shawn was tired of it, drained, so when he hoped for a moment of his own and lost it? He truly didn't feel at ease anymore.

He looked back at the girl once more, angrily with eyes narrowed. She seemed oblivious to his newfound outlet as she kept scrolling on her phone. She was beautiful, Shawn couldn't deny that. In fact, it's why he looked her way in the first place – it's why he sat in this particular café, outside on such a cold morning to have his coffee, all because she caught his eye as he was passing the street. However, whatever drew him in had now pushed him away as he scoffed under his breath, shaking his head.

That's when she looked up from her phone and trained her eyes on him again, a confused look passing her features as she stood slowly, setting herself on a path toward him.

Rolling his eyes, Shawn reminded himself to be nice for his image is kindness and never random rage outbursts on young girls who want a photo with him. He drew in a short, quick breath of fresh air before he looked up at her when she stopped a few feet away from him, prepared to fake it if need be.

"I’m really not in the mood.” Shawn says before he can stop himself, mentally face palming when he sees the girl’s eyebrows furrow, her bottom lip sinking between her teeth as she cleared her throat.

“I wanted to ask if you needed something aside from the coffee considering you’ve been looking at me this whole time. I just assumed you were annoyed because my colleague hasn’t been out in a while. I’m sorry for making the wrong assumption and bothering you.” She wasn’t harsh or rude, making Shawn feel even guiltier as he paled. Finally realizing she’s the waitress, Shawn’s paleness is quickly replaced with a crimson shade that he could never truly hide.

The girl didn’t get a chance to walk away as he stood up abruptly, knocking the table up in the process with his thighs, some of his coffee spilling over.

“No, no, no. I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to be so rude, I just…I do want something.” Shawn exclaimed, hoping he can dig himself out of this deep hole he managed to dig for himself in a matter of seconds. “A bagel! And a brownie, please?” Shawn gave her an awkward smile, running his hand through his messy curls as she studies him with care, unsure if she should say something about his odd behavior or just take it like she usually does.

There are worse customers than him, she thinks.

“Sure.” She sighs, placing her phone on his table before whipping out a small notepad to write his order down, walking away right after.

Sitting down, Shawn sighed heavily at his stupidity, chuckling at himself. Rubbing his forehead to soothe an oncoming headache, he opens his eyes only to find her phone is still on the table, unlocked at that!

He stared at the gadget with great interest, wondering if he had assumed more than one thing wrong and if he had to change his opinion of this girl entirely. He didn’t want to take the phone and search it, but what’s the harm in peering over his cup to see what app she’s got open, right?

“Most common complications of a bowl resection?” Shawn reads under his breath, his eyebrows knitted together as he stares at the words that quite frankly sound like they came from a Grey’s anatomy episode.

“What are you doing?” A sweet voice startles him into a small yelp, the girl chuckling at this tall hunk who seems to be so clumsy and presumptuous that she can’t quite figure him out yet.

“Oh, I…Uh…I’m a simple guy, really. I see a phone screen and I have to sneak a peek, except I can’t understand a damn thing written on there.” Shawn rubbed the back of his neck nervously, sure as hell that his face is tomato red by now. He hates tomatoes just as much as he hates his treacherous cheeks for betraying every emotion he’s ever had.

Giggling, she places his order on the table, pushing back a strand of hair behind her right ear. She takes her phone swiftly, pocketing it in a single move.

“Yeah, I’ve got an exam to prepare for. Been working the night shift! Lucky me!” She exclaims sarcastically, her lips pressed together before she places the bill on his table too, turning around to go.

She isn’t even wearing a uniform, Shawn realizes, watching her as she takes her bag and begins to pack her things from the table she was sat at before. She took his order even after her shift ended. Biting down on his bottom lip, Shawn could sense a war is brewing between his head and heart, each arguing why he should or should not go after her.

Shawn’s always been a heart guy, deciding to go ahead and listen to it once again.

Jumping to his feet, Shawn moves toward her on instinct, not quite ready for her to go. He’s got too much accumulated guilt over judging her and assuming things about her that he was clearly wrong about and while she didn’t know it, he still wanted to make amends. Shawn needed to do something nice for the girl who had been kind enough not to cuss him out for being inexcusably rude to her.

“Where are you going?" He asks before he could stop himself. His head cocked to the side, his eyes shifting from the ground to the unknown girl. He barely knew her, hell, Shawn didn’t even know her name, but his heart stopped and he could barely breathe when she decided to leave.

She looked up in wonder, observing him with slight worry in her eyes, another thing he found endearing.

“I have that exam in an hour. Gotta get to my bus on time.” She shrugged, giving him a tiny wave as a means to say goodbye.

Shawn needed more time with her. He needed to talk to her, to get to know her, to at least find out her name. For some reason he couldn’t even fathom, Shawn felt drawn to this stranger, this girl who didn’t seem to know or give a damn about who he is. She is the type of people he surrounds himself with – people who are grounded and will keep him human. He wouldn’t admit to it, but she was also a beauty he couldn’t part with for reasons not of the mind, but of the heart. He knew it wouldn’t be a smart idea to get involved with someone now, not when he was under contract to be with someone else and so publicly.

However, when she made a move to leave, Shawn had to react before his heart completely stopped.

"I'm guessing you need a ride?" His voice was soft-spoken and mellow, sending a warm glow throughout Y/N’s body.

"Taking the bus won’t kill me, but thanks for the offer." Y/N smiled, waving at the café’ window. Shawn grabbed a twenty and left it on his table quickly, pointing at it in hopes of someone coming out to take the money for he had no time to pay for it right now. Shawn had decided to get in his car and chase after the girl who had started her walk to the nearest bus station, her determined walk noticeable and distinctive.

“You said you’ve been working all night, right?” He talked loudly, needing her to hear him, as if she could miss a car like his slowing down beside her or the doe-eyed guy nearly shouting at her through his open window.

“Yeah. So?” She stops, crossing her arms over her chest, uncertainty in her eyes. She looked at Shawn with such confusing emotion that he could hardly breathe when he allowed himself the luxury of staring into her eyes. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she knew him for years, that they have history, that they’ve met in a previous life. The look in her eyes and the feeling he’d get in his heart when he’d meet her gaze? It felt like more than two strangers talking.

“Don’t want to fall asleep on the bus and miss your stop, now do ya?” Shawn tried, unsure how to convince her to let him drive her.

“I’d also prefer not to be killed by the seemingly kind stranger who offered me a ride.” She cocked an eyebrow, starting to walk again which forced Shawn to press down on the gas pedal lightly.

“My name’s Shawn and I promise I’m not a killer, just a big supporter of education who has nothing better to do than help a girl who looks like she could use a kind gesture after a hard night.”

Y/N stops again, rolling her eyes at the sky before letting out a deep breath she didn’t know she was holding. Was it wise to get into a car of a man she knew for less than an hour? A handsome stranger that could easily turn out to be a Ted Bundy she found herself attracted to?

Definitely not wise, she thought as she opened the passenger door and sat inside.

"Cute name." she smiled shyly.

“I’m Y/N.” She tells him, putting on the seatbelt before looking into his whiskey brown eyes.

“Your name is cuter.” Shawn’s crooked smile made her heart flip. The wind gently brushed his curls as he kept his window open, the breeze grazing his face, almost soothingly.

This is what he needed though, some adventure. Some risk. Some danger. Giving a ride to a girl he met didn’t constitute as adventure, risk or danger, but being seen doing so? Definitely.

She types in the location in his GPS, leaning back in her seat as the radio fills the silence. Nearly choking on his own saliva, Shawn changed the song he had recognized just by the first few beats, before Senorita could blast through the speakers.

“So, uh…what kind of music do you like?” Shawn asked awkwardly, feeling her gaze upon him not a second later. It’s as if being set on fire, but not in the way it hurts the skin, rather puts the soul on a path worth taking.

“Classical mostly. Old rock music too.” She responds, receiving a hum from Shawn in response. He relaxed visibly, knowing there’s a much lesser chance that she’d know he’s Shawn Mendes if he’s not what she usually listens to.

“You seem like a pop-rock kind of a guy.” She assumed, lifting her left eyebrow quizzically, waiting for him to agree or deny.

Shawn couldn’t hold himself back from smiling widely, nodding before sparing her a quick glance. “Nice guess.” He adds, noticing her cheeks redden, not nearly as bad as his, but enough to know she’s not indifferent.

“So, you’re a med student or a method actor?” Shawn chuckled, catching her playfully rolling her eyes at him and his stomach flipped at the gesture. She looked cute even annoyed with him and he knew he’d love to annoy her for a really long time if she’d let him.

“First one would be right!” She exclaimed, pressing her lips together as she turned to the side, looking out the window instead of him.

“That’s pretty impressive! Beauty and brains? It’s every man’s dream.” Shawn told her honestly, at least from his perspective. He had already found himself on her hook, wanting more and more all the while knowing he’ll soon have to leave her at the university and in less than a month, he’d leave the continent as well.

“You might be the only guy thinking that. It feels the day I started med school, I signed some invisible contract where I was doomed to be lonely and friendless. I never have time for friends or relationships. When I’m not in class, I’m working or studying. If I do have free time, I’m usually exhausted to the point of just curling up and watching Netflix. Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.” She bit her lip, eyes everywhere but on Shawn.

She didn’t know why she told him this, something she’d been carrying around on her shoulders for so long. She barely knows him, yet Shawn just oozes good vibes and trustworthiness that she couldn’t help herself. It’s been a while since she had someone to be genuine with, so what’s the harm in oversharing with a stranger she’ll likely never see again?

“If you’re passionate about something, it will often demand you abandon all else. There will be times where you’ll wonder why you ever did it, why you’ve made such a decision as if you didn’t know it would be like this…you did, I know you were aware it would be hard and let me tell you, all the good things in life are hard and demand sacrifice and once you’ve got it, you’ll be reminded just why you chose it. Something happens and you’re reminded and you’ll be back in the right mindset.” Shawn tightens his hold on the steering wheel, aware he’s telling himself the same.

He’s lost the passion he used to have for music in the circus his team imposed on him and now he’s here, in the car with a girl he just met yet felt so incredibly connected to in comparison to the girl he’s supposedly dating that it was hard not to feel like life turned on him.

When he started writing music and playing it live, Shawn never realized how fake the public persona he’d have to create would be. He always thought musicians had free reign to be who they are, to enjoy life, but he’s received a cold shower of pure facts in the past year and he’s still struggling to come to terms with it.

“I really hope so.” She smiled, reaching out for his hand. She laid her palm gently on the back of Shawn’s hand, giving it a gentle squeeze before removing it quickly.

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of bummed we’re already here.” Shawn sighed as he parked, looking over at the girl he wanted to stay more than ever. She wasn’t a stranger anymore, not even close. In his world, the rule states you’re no longer strangers if you’ve:

A) gotten drunk together

or

B) had a heart to heart.

“Bet you say that to all the strangers you give a lift to.” Her lips pulled to the left into a crooked smile, one Shawn wanted to make wider, brighter.

“Just ones I really like.” Shawn countered, smiling as well. It’s hard to resist a smile when she’s got her angelic lips spreading into the smile he wanted to see.

“You like me, eh?” She teased, coyly lifting an eyebrow as she lets her lips pucker.

“Never denied it.” Shawn raised his hands in a mock surrender, chuckling.

Then he moves closer with those eyes that look so deeply into her own, as if he could see who she is underneath all the layers she’s created to protect herself from the hurt. It’s like he sees her soul, the real Y/N and never in her life had she felt seen like she did with Shawn. He made her feel like she’s the only girl in the world and she knew then she’d never find that gaze in any other man’s eyes, never such intensity, raw emotion and understanding.

“As long as we’re clear on that.” She smirked, moving away slightly, not ready for what his eyes were telling her.

“Are you feeling better about the exam now? About everything? Because I meant what I said. You’ll be okay, even if it feels otherwise.” Shawn decided to diffuse the situation, the tension growing too fast for her to be comfortable with it, he could tell.

“About the fact that I’m not sure if I’ll ever find love or be the girl a guy would go to the ends of the world for?” She shrugged, chuckling dryly.

It’s much easier to make fun of what bothers her than face it head on. She’s been feeling so lost for such a long time that her coping mechanisms weren’t quite something most people are used to. But Shawn? He doesn’t even blink at her darkness. He doesn’t look away or shows he’s tired of her already. He doesn’t push her away for being so gloomy, he’s doing the opposite. He listens as if her words are golden, some elixir he's been waiting all his days to hear.

From what he says next she can tell he is thinking so deeply, already with a strategy that's several moves ahead of her. And in his words is a kindness, a concern that is so quick that, for him, it is natural. This attentiveness is a part of who he is and that is the most attractive feature Y/N’s ever seen in a man.

“You are though. I’ve known you for an hour and I’m already thinking just how badly I want to take you out and shower you with affection. You’re so beautiful, so raw, so fucking oblivious to your qualities that it makes me both angry and stubbornly certain that I want to change your view of yourself.” Shawn takes her hand in his, clasping it between his palms as his left hand, the one with a swallow tattoo, closes over hers. A tattoo like that would be hard to forget.

“I’ve found out that you’re intelligent, hardworking, ambitious, funny in a nonconventional way, incredibly brave for setting out on this journey, extremely good and devoted to helping humanity one person at a time, caring and you think of others even when you don’t have to. You were kind to me when I wasn’t to you, honest and open with your heart and mind…And that’s all within an hour of knowing you. And I desperately want more as creepy as it may sound.” Shawn’s words have made her eyes gloss over and she couldn’t stop herself from chuckling too.

When a woman’s sure she’s destined to be alone and that her perfect man isn’t real and then finds him when she’s given up on the notion – it’s a shock to the body. His smile alone burnishes her soul into a beauty it could never have achieved on its own. Before they met, both Shawn and Y/N were one, now they’re each a half, yet somehow so much more than they ever were before.

“I’m really glad I met you, Shawn. It’s truly an honor.” She managed to say before she leaned in so swiftly he had no chance to even move. Her lips brushed his for no longer than a moment, a single breath yet long enough to make him crave more, so much more. Just as quickly as they warmed his heart, her lips were gone and so was she.

He watched her walk away, her head bent as she stared at her shoes in thought, his heart slamming against his ribcage helplessly. He’d have ran after her, but he couldn’t afford some of the students recognizing him and snapping a photo. He couldn’t risk the world knowing he was living a lie, dating Camila on paper but already in love with a woman he was destined to fail in the long run.

Shawn should have let Y/N become a sweet memory he’d return to when the nights became too cold, too lonely to brave on his own. He should have let it be a fantasy, but he couldn’t. Whether he wanted it or not, Shawn was drawn to the same café the very next morning, hoping to run into the medical student who had captivated him.

#shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes x reader #shawn mendes #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes fic

[katyatalks]

Mob Psycho 100 Interview Translation - Character Designer Kameda Yoshimichi - Otome Visual 2017

Summary-style translation for Character Designer Yoshimichi Kameda’s 4 page interview from Otome Visual 2017, regarding elements in the creation of Mob Psycho 100 such as: what inspired this cover art, the influence of fan art in the anime’s creation, Tsubomi’s design, the process behind the package art for the DVDs, and more. Includes some genga. Under read more;

[TN: The reason why I elected to summarise this interview rather than do a full write up is because a lot of the information given gets covered in December 2016′s Animestyle010, in “The Making of Mob Psycho 100.” I typed that one out in full over on twitter but that’s a long interview, and I don’t have the time or energy to reformat it for Tumblr, but if you’re interested in a very in-depth look into how Mob Psycho 100′s anime came to be I’d really recommend checking it out. Direct quotes are given in “” here. Enjoy!]

---

*~The genga illustration for Otome Visual’s cover~*

“With the recent popularity that Skating Anime has had, what’s this - a Shouwa idol collab?! It’s all in the little details in their clothing - their wrinkled shirts, white trousers, black belts - both around their waists and arms.”

*~Kameda’s comments~*

“Can you heaaaar me!! I am currently speaking directly into your braaaain!!! What I’m grateful for with this commission is I was able to design the cover in any way I’d like!! A cover is a reflection of current times, so, of course, I went for ice skating! You wouldn’t be able to find this kind of amazing content in any time period other than now! That’s what I first thought! Like, Mob Psycho 100!! If there’s not a certain Mob Psycho 100-ness present in the art then what’d be the point, so, the characters are being very serious but they’re also pretty laughable. I tried to create a piece of art from which you could hear their voices!!! What’s with it being Shouwa-esque?? Being lame is incredibly cool!!! Huh? Does that describe Mob Psycho 100?? Can’t answer that if you ask!!!! Please feel the amazing Paradise Ginga x Mob Psycho 100-ness here!!!!!!”

---

Kameda describes how he wasn’t sure how best to adapt the manga into an anime format at first, since from the art he was shown he immediately knew it to be very unique - the idea of using Flash to animate the show was raised but quickly shot down

Originally, upon being asked about the show, he based his thoughts on what a web image search for Mob Psycho 100 gave him rather than having the actual manga in hand. “For the most part, the results that came back would be fanart (laughs). It’s a bit strange -  at that time, it was difficult to find art uploaded from the manga. If you could find anything, it’d just be art from the covers. So for the most part, an image search of Mob Psycho 100 would just bring you back fanart. A lot of that fanart would be… a shounen in a cool pose wearing a school uniform with smooth bobbed hair & sharp cat-like eyes, sort of like Hiei’s eyes (from Yu Yu Hakusho). Very different from the manga’s art. But when I looked at that art, I thought; this could work. Fanart is, fundamentally, ‘fans drawing what they like’, so I thought, ‘the anime having this kind of art would make the fans happy.’ Well, it didn’t work out that way, obviously. I was told the anime’s art should resemble that of the manga. (Laughs)”

He hadn’t read the manga so all he had for reference was art from volume 1 and the fanart he found online. “But I like things like spirits and urban legends, so seeing Dimple - a floating supernatural fiery ball - and being told the manga touches on the occult caused my interest to soar.”

Says that Teru is the easiest character for him to draw. “He’s overflowing with confidence, so it’s easy to put him into some cool poses. Mob and Ritsu in comparison, not so much. [...] With Reigen, he has a lot of poses that are like, he’s trying to look good. He takes a solid stance. I suppose Spirits & Such has such a shady air to it, and you have to hide that somehow, right? So, Reigen injects confidence into how he presents himself. A model-like stance.”

“The anime is faithful to the manga… ah, actually, Tsubomi-chan was changed with a ‘let’s make her more like a heroine’ conversation. So, I did so, but reading recent events in the manga I can’t picture her in her anime form (laughs). The manga’s Tsubomi isn’t much like a heroine, so I’ve found myself wondering, if we animate up until this part… just how will we approach it? The anime’s Tsubomi is so bright and sparkly, so she wouldn’t have snot hanging from her nose (vol.13 of manga), would she…? (Laughs). Perhaps we went a little too far with making her a heroine. Maybe, if we do season 2, we’ll turn her back into a normal girl (laughs). Well, Tachikawa-san is clever; I think he’ll find a way to make do with her current design.”

---

Picture text: "This is Mezato's first appearance, so I decided to make her cute!! Thank you in advance!!"

Picture text: "That girl was telling me such a stupid story this morning... aidzuchi* isn't easy, you know... I'll just ignore her tomorrow..." [* sounds made to indicate that you're listening to someone speak]

---

Asked about his favourite characters; “I love Mezato Ichi from the Newspaper Club. When I drew her in her character sheet in that pose where she’s holding her camera, I came to see her as being quite cute. So now I focus on her a lot; in fact, when I draw genga I sneakily choose the cuts that have her in them (laughs).”

“I also love Mob. Reigen stands out the most so your eyes naturally jump to him, but I love the balance that Mob has. His heads tall ratio... or rather, his face, and the way his body is proportioned? It makes him lovely. Ritsu is around the same height as Mob, but, how can I put this - the cuteness that Mob has, is lacking in Ritsu… due to the latter being quite standoffish, I suppose (laughs).”

Ritsu’s hair changing through the first season is discussed, and how it is purposefully shortened during the latter half. “I paid attention to making sure his hair was long especially while he was being possessed by Dimple. So it’d resemble thorns.”

“I feel Teru-kun is the most ‘yang’ of all the characters. The rest are more ‘yin’ in nature. Because of this, it’s easy to play around with his expressions - he’s fun to draw. Speaking in terms of Dragonball, he’s kind of like Mob Psycho 100’s Vegeta (laughs).”

“In episode 9, Dimple possesses one of Claw’s security guards, right? I don’t really understand why that security guard is so popular.” Q: What do you mean? “Because he’s just some middle-aged dude (laughs). He doesn’t even appear for long…”

After discussing the huge amount of SG!Dimple commissions received: “Unlike SG!Dimple, I don’t really get asked to draw Shou-kun. With this commission I thought to myself, I /have/ to include him here, and so I added him in. The initial brief excluded him.”

Asked about moments that stuck with him; “When Teru chokes Mob in episode 5. [...] Mob’s pained expression as he’s being choked is good, but Teru-kun’s face shows us… envy, jealousy, distress, anxiety.”

“Also, the ‘super real Reigen’ sequence from episode 12. The tension between Reigen and Sakurai is funny, but the art itself has had me laughing since production. It’s funny no matter how many times I look at it!”

Kameda’s idea to have the characters make number shapes for the volume art came from him watching ‘Tonneruzu no Minasan no Okage deshita’, specifically the ‘Mojimoji-kun’ segment of the show (where they try to make numbers from their bodies)

Volume 6’s cover art was first planned to have a whole ensemble of characters, but Kameda changed his mind on this - “if we do a second season, we can leave that for volume 12 (laughs).”

Volume 4's cover was originally planned to feature only Onigawara and Gouda, but Kameda found himself wanting to include the rest of the body improvement club

Regarding the pose we see on vol 6’s package art, “My original thoughts for that cover were to have Reigen and Mob in a ‘hell wheel’ pose, like, Mob pulling Reigen’s legs and arms… but that wouldn’t be very fitting for the final volume.”

His message to the readers; “Thank you for your support! With sales, the ‘this is popular!’ message gets conveyed, and the more support you give us, then there’s no doubt we’ll be able to produce season 2 and season 3!! Season 2 relies on your support. It’s in your hands - thank you!!”

---

Crossposted on twitter here.

#mp100 #mob psycho 100 #anime visual 2017 #Kameda Yoshimichi #interview #sg!dimple middle age man rights

[bubonickitten]

Fic summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Chapter summary: The process(es) of resigning from a terrible, no good, very bad assistant position.

Previous chapter: AO3 // tumblr

Full chapter text & content warnings below the cut.

Content warnings for Chapter 22: discussions of eye-gouging/eye horror (not graphic); brief mentions of spiders/arachnophobia; anxiety/panic symptoms; lots of dissociation/dpdr; Peter Lukas being a manipulative shit; Lonely-typical content (including fear of abandonment & some abysmal self-esteem on Martin’s part); allusions to police violence & Hunt-related themes (re: Daisy’s past actions); swears. SPOILERS through Season 5.

Chapter 22: Resignation

Georgie paces in a slow circle, alternating between biting her nails and picking at her bottom lip – entirely immersed in her own thoughts, judging from the faraway look in her eyes. Jon hasn’t seen her this overwrought since the last depressive episode he witnessed. Just watching her is enough to make his chest tighten with vicarious unrest.

Wary of contributing to a vicious feedback loop between the two of them with his own customary pacing and handwringing, he forces himself to keep his knees locked and hands at his sides. Still, he can’t help rubbing his fingertips together and rocking minutely on the balls of his feet.

“Why don’t we sit?” Jon finally interjects, wincing when it comes out more curtly than he intended – more like a command than a suggestion, but luckily without any accompanying static.

Be mindful, he silently chides himself: being on edge like this only makes him more susceptible to accidental compulsion.

“What if something goes wrong?” Georgie whispers. Jon doubts she even heard him beneath her nervous refrain. “What if –”

“Georgie?” Jon tries again. No response. He steps into her path and places a hand on her shoulder. “Georgie.”

“What?” Georgie raises her head, but she isn’t looking at him so much as she’s looking through him.

“I think you should sit down?”

“What?” Georgie says again, sounding utterly lost. Her eyes are darting around the room now, as if she doesn’t recognize her surroundings.

How the tables have turned, Jon thinks grimly.

“Come on,” he says, taking her hand and guiding her to the nearest chair. She offers no resistance, trailing behind him like a flagging balloon. When he presses on her shoulder to coax her into a sitting position, she goes easily. Keeping hold of her hand, he drags another chair closer to her and takes a seat.

Okay. Now what?

Jon jiggles his leg as he wracks his brain for the right thing to say. She deserves more than handholding and awkward silence, but soothing words have never come naturally to him.

“Do you, ah… do you want to talk about it?” Jon cringes at his faltering delivery. “I’m sorry, I’m – I’m still not very good at this,” he adds with a self-deprecating laugh – then immediately shuts his eyes, kicking himself. Why are his attempts to relate to others always so clumsy and – and weirdly self-centered? “I mean –”

“I’m scared,” Georgie blurts out.

“You… what?” Jon tilts his head. “But I thought – you don’t feel –”

“Fear?” Her clipped, brittle laugh dies in her throat. “No, I don’t. And that’s exactly the problem, isn’t it?”

Jon strokes the back of her hand with one thumb, but remains silent. She always elaborates on her own time, given some space to order her thoughts.

“I don’t feel… terror,” she says slowly. “After I had my… encounter, I did a lot of research on how the brain works. Trying to understand what was happening to me, you know?”

Jon nods. He’s intimately familiar with that urge. As a child, he went through a spider phase, as his grandmother called it, obsessively seeking out any information he could on them, hoping even then that he could conquer his fear if only he could see the world through a detached, academic lens. There were plenty of academic odes to the spider to be found; no shortage of enamored arachnologists waxing poetic about the wonders of evolution and the vital role that arachnids play in their particular ecological niches.

Unfortunately, a phobia – especially one arising from acute trauma – tends to be resistant to reason and reality. His obsession only ever yielded heart palpitations and lucid nightmares. Despite that failure, he never stopped clinging to that idea that if only he could know everything there was to know about a thing, he could finally scrape together some semblance of control over his fear.

In many ways, that fixation is exactly what drew him to the Magnus Institute.

Unless the Spider really was pulling the strings all along, he thinks, and then: No, we are not going there.

“As far as I can tell,” Georgie continues, “my sympathetic nervous system still functions. I can still experience all the physiological aspects of sympathetic arousal – and fear is only one possible trigger for those sorts of responses. What’s missing is my capacity to interpret those responses through the lens of fear. To emotionally process or identify them as fear.

“I can still experience anxiety, to an extent – or something close to it. But mostly in the context of worrying about others, being scared for them. I mean, I can feel apprehensive about the possibility of experiencing pain or loss or failure myself, I have a stake in my continued existence, I can recognize danger, but sometimes it feels… I don’t know – mechanical, almost? There’s just always the feeling of something missing. Something important. And there are times when I feel that void more acutely.”

“Like now.”

“Yeah.” Georgie looks away, chewing her lip in silence.

“I’m listening,” Jon coaxes, sensing that there’s more she’s holding back.

“It’s just… hard to feel like a full person sometimes, you know?” Georgie says helplessly. “I worry sometimes that it – I don’t know, does a disservice, I guess, to the people I care about? Like no matter how much I love someone, it isn’t… complete? Or – genuine, in the right way? It’s – hard to find words that actually describe it. There are times when it feels like I’ve lost something vital that made me human, that made me me, and it’s… difficult to reconcile who I was – who I could have been – with who I am now.”

“That I understand,” Jon says softly.

“I know.” Jon wishes he was less familiar with the sad smile she gives him just then. “It’s just… I remember a time when I would have been terrified of all this. Not just worried, or upset about someone I care about being hurt, or devastated by the prospect of losing someone I love. Terrified. And knowing what I should be feeling – what I would have felt at some point – is… it’s unnerving. There’s a void there that shouldn’t be there. It’s like… having part of you gouged out and left hollow. An absence that’s so present it’s almost visceral.” She frowns. “Does that make any sense?”

“In my future I had a Flesh Avatar reach into my chest and wrench out two of my ribs, so… yes, actually.”

Georgie blinks several times, then laughs breathlessly. “Do I even want to know?”

“Probably not.” Jon returns a cautious smile, but the levity evaporates after a few seconds. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think that you don’t have to have access to the full spectrum of human emotion in order to count as human. And I don’t think any of this makes your concern for others any less heartfelt, or – or comforting. You might not be the same person you were before you were marked, but that doesn’t make you any lesser as a person.”

“You should try applying that metric to yourself sometime,” she replies, not unkindly.

“It’s –”

“Don’t say it’s different,” she cuts in. “Just… keep it in mind, okay?”

“I’ll, uh… I’ll try.” Georgie nods, but says nothing. Jon grips her hand a little tighter. “Listen, I – I know you’re worried for Melanie, but I think it’s going to be alright? I can’t predict the future –well, I have knowledge of one possible future, but that’s because I lived it. I don’t have any precognitive abilities, or anything like that. But… it turned out okay last time.”

Until I jump-started an apocalypse –

Jon reins in the thought before it can gain momentum. Georgie doesn’t need his brooding right now.

“Melanie is a fighter,” he says instead, offering a tentative smile. “And she has you.”

Georgie shakes her head. “I can’t believe you came out of the apocalypse sappier than you were when you went in.”

“Side effect of traversing a post-apocalyptic wasteland with a hopeless romantic, I think.” That gets another little chuckle out of Georgie. “I mean it, though. I think Melanie will be okay, especially with you looking out for her. Not to mention, the Admiral is a perpetual serotonin generator.”

“You really miss him, huh?”

“Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve pet a cat, Georgie?” Jon practically whines, playfully dramatic. It manages to keep the amused smile on Georgie’s face, he’s pleased to note.

“Maybe I should bring him by sometime.”

“Absolutely not. This place doesn’t deserve him.” Georgie snorts. Although Jon is reluctant to ruin the temporary shift in mood, this is as good a time as any to broach a subject he’s been dreading. “Also, I, ah… I don’t want you to feel obligated to continue visiting here.”

“What?” Georgie says, eyes narrowed.

“If you have to take a step back,” Jon says carefully, “I’ll understand.”

“I mean, I might not be able to come by as often as I have been, especially while Melanie is still recovering, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be around at all.” Georgie’s frown deepens. “I’m not about to cut you out of my life, Jon.”

“I know. And I don’t want you to. But – no, listen,” Jon insists, seeing Georgie about to protest. “What I’m trying to say is – I know Melanie wants to put as much distance between herself and the Institute as possible. If it turns out that you staying involved in all of this is too close to home, then… well, I don’t want her to feel like she’s still trapped in the Institute’s orbit, is all.”

Or mine, he doesn’t say. He doesn’t want to be a reason for Melanie to feel unsafe. In the past, he has been – and that’s not who he wants to be.

These days, Melanie has come to view him more as a fellow captive than a complicit enemy. Lingering resentment still sparks to life from time to time; she still struggles with her anger, and once or twice, she’s had to leave a room for fear of that rage boiling over. Overall, though, she no longer directs the majority of her ire towards him. When they do butt heads, it hasn’t gone much further than bickering – and even that feels comforting in its familiarity and mundanity. Almost companionable, in its own way.

Most significantly, ever since their talk, Melanie hasn’t once likened him to Jonah Magnus. Jon doesn’t know if that’s because it’s no longer an automatic association at the forefront of her mind, or because she’s consciously watching her words around him, actively taking care to avoid tripping that perpetual trigger. Either way, Jon is grateful.

But Jon also knows that he’s inseparable from the Institute. Despite his intentions, and regardless of whether or to what degree the others hold him personally responsible, the fact remains: he’s embroiled in something unspeakably evil, and that poses a danger to anyone who stands too close to him.

Georgie doesn’t immediately respond, instead taking the time to seriously consider his words. He’s always appreciated that about her, as uneasy as these moments of silent suspense can make him.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” she says eventually, “once she’s recovered enough to have that discussion. I don’t know how she’ll feel about staying in direct contact herself, especially at first, but… I doubt she expects me to cut you off. And I imagine she’ll still want to know how everyone is doing, even if she doesn’t want the details.” She glances up to meet his eyes. “Anyway, regardless of how often I visit in person, I’m still going to be checking in with you, so answer your damn phone, will you?”

“I do answer my phone,” he says defensively. “I just… forget to answer texts sometimes. And I don’t get service in the tunnels –”

“Well, come up for air and cell service from time to time.” She wrinkles her nose. “Honestly, I don’t know how you can tolerate being down here for hours on end –”

Jon startles slightly as the trapdoor creaks open above their heads. Georgie stands as Melanie makes her way down the ladder, hurrying over to fold her into her arms. Basira follows behind, closing the trapdoor behind her as she goes.

“Mission successful, I take it?” Jon says quietly as Basira approaches him, giving Georgie and Melanie a moment to themselves.

“Uneventful,” Basira says with a shrug. “A few sidelong glances, but otherwise, none of the library staff even acknowledged us. Definitely didn’t seem keen on asking why we were rummaging in the repair supplies.”

“They probably didn’t want to know.”

“Yeah.” A small, rueful smile crosses her face. “Some of them used to talk to me, you know. Nothing personal – we weren’t close – but… when I returned a book, they’d ask what I thought of it, give me recommendations, that sort of thing. Now, though…”

These days she prefers to wait until everyone has gone home for the day before visiting the library, Jon Knows. He also Knows that the library staff are well aware that she’s the one pilfering research materials in the dead of night – and that they have no plans on confronting her about it. She never leaves a mess, after all, and always returns items to their proper places once she’s finished with them, which is more than can be said for many of the students who make use of the library’s resources.

“You know, I don’t think any of them have looked me in the eye for months.” There’s a distinct note of regret in Basira’s voice. “They just watch me out of the corners of their eyes when they think I’m not looking. I don’t know if that’s because they’re afraid of Lukas disappearing them for fraternizing, or because everyone is leery of the Archives these days, or because I’ve just become less approachable. Maybe all three. Suppose it doesn’t really matter.”

Jon knows the feeling well. Before he can answer, though, Melanie clears her throat. Jon looks over to see her facing his direction, one hand clasping Georgie’s tight enough to blanch her knuckles.

“This is it, then,” Basira says solemnly.

“Yeah.” Melanie closes her eyes and breathes a long, shaky exhale. “It’s time.”

“You’re sure you don’t want me there?” Georgie asks.

Melanie shakes her head. “I don’t want you to see that.”

“But –”

“She won’t be alone,” Basira says. “I’ll be right outside the room.”

Melanie faces Georgie fully, taking her other hand as well. “The plan hasn’t changed. Basira will call 999. I’ll make it quick, and – once it’s done, Basira will come in and sit with me until the ambulance gets here.”

“I have a general idea of what the response time should be like,” Basira adds, looking at Georgie. “If we time it right, Melanie will have medical assistance within minutes. I can come get you when the paramedics get here, if you want to ride in the ambulance.”

Georgie nods and tightens her grip on Melanie’s hands. “Is that okay?”

“Only if you want,” Melanie says haltingly. “But – maybe try to avoid looking too close, if my eyes are uncovered? It’s just – it probably won’t be pretty.” A stressed laugh claws its way out of her throat. “Potential trauma fodder, you know? I don’t want to worry about you remembering me like that every time you see me, even after I’ve healed.”

“Okay,” Georgie replies softly.

“It shouldn’t take long. Just – wait here with Jon until then, okay?” Georgie nods again, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “Speaking of which –” Melanie glances at Jon, as if just now remembering his presence. Startled by the sudden direct eye contact, he reflexively straightens his spine and stands at attention. “I guess this is goodbye, huh? For a while, anyway.”

“I, uh. I suppose it is.”

“Right. So, um… good luck, I guess?”

No disclaimers or ill will tacked on this time, Jon notes privately.

“You too.” He forces a smile, but he suspects that it comes off as awkward rather than reassuring.

“Try not to die.”

“Yes, ‘not dying’ is relatively close to the top of my to-do list.”

“If I come to find out that you’ve gotten yourself killed and broken the eldritch employment contract binding us all to this place after I’ve gone and gouged my eyes out, I’m going to be livid.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Jon says wryly.

“Seriously, though.” Melanie’s smirk melts away, taken over by a somber, quiet sort of intensity. “Either beat Elias at his own game, or get the fuck away from this place the instant you find an out. Whichever comes first. Preferably without any of the self-sacrificial bullshit.”

Fractious as its delivery is, the demand is oddly touching, coming from Melanie.

“I, uh… I’ll do my best?”

“You’d better.” Melanie nods – a curt but cordial dismissal – and turns her attention back to Georgie. “Hey,” she says, her voice going measurably softer, releasing one of Georgie’s hands to reach up and cup her face. Her watery smile belies her mental state: resolve warring with trepidation. “Look at me?”

For a long minute, she studies Georgie’s face, clearly enraptured. Jon forcefully tears his gaze away from the intimacy of the moment.

“Okay.” Melanie takes a deep breath in and releases it slowly. “I’m ready. I’ll see you soon, okay? Or – well, I won’t see you, but – you’ll see me, and I’ll…” She huffs, rolling her eyes. “Oh, whatever – you know what I mean.”

Georgie lets out a tearful chuckle, and Melanie relaxes marginally.

“I’m sure about this,” she says. “I promise. This is what I want – a life with you, away from all of this. And if this is the price I have to pay, then… I’m okay with that. Really, I am.” She stands on tiptoe to give Georgie a peck on the cheek. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Georgie says, leaning down for a return kiss, smiling weakly against Melanie’s lips. “See you soon.”

When Martin first heard the bustle outside his door – coworkers venturing outside their solitary offices to trade whispered questions and eager gossip as word of paramedics in the archives made its way upstairs – his stomach gave a little lurch: a combination of horror and wonder. He hadn’t expected Melanie to change her mind – he knows how determined she can be once she’s settled on a course of action; how desperate she was to extricate herself from Elias’ – Jonah’s – schemes. Still, though, faced with the reality of it, he found himself in awe of her nerve.

That was yesterday. Martin didn’t get much work done, preoccupied as he was. He isn’t having an easier time of it today: his attention keeps slipping away to linger in remembrances of sterile hospital rooms and muted hallways, thoughts drowned out by the ghosts of sirens and beeping machinery.

“Well, this is an unexpected turn of events.”

Martin jolts in his seat, heart leaping into his throat. It only takes an instant longer for his alarm to mutate into aggravation.

“Peter!” Martin spins around to glower at the man. “How many times do I have to–”

Peter flaps a dismissive hand. “To be honest, Martin, the drop in temperature tends to tip most people off. The only reason you continue to be surprised by my arrival is because you’ve become acclimated to the Forsaken.”

The revelation is slow to sink in, a stark chill blooming in Martin’s chest and snaking its roots outwards. Only now that it’s been brought to his attention can he feel the nip in the air.

“Here I was certain you were becoming estranged from our patron, but it seems I needn’t have worried.” Peter’s smile is laced with malice. “Or should I?”

Martin says nothing, eyes wide and stinging from the now-conspicuous cold. Peter sighs, folds his hands behind his back, and begins a meandering back-and-forth pace.

“Our success is dependent on your voluntary isolation, Martin.”

“Yeah.” The word turns to fog as it touches the air, and Martin finds himself transfixed by the sight. “You’ve said.”

“It seems you need a reminder.”

The condescension dripping from the words is enough to drag Martin back into the present moment. Heat rises in his cheeks, contrasting with the temperature in the room and making the chill that much more noticeable.

“You still haven’t told me your plan,” he snaps. “You keep expecting me to just – go along with whatever you’re scheming, no questions asked.”

“You ask many questions, Martin –”

“Yeah, and you never answer them! You’re so – so bloody cryptic about all of this.”

“Martin, Martin,” Peter says, placating in the most patronizing way possible. Martin bristles: he hates the way Peter says his name. “There’s no need to get so worked up –”

“If you want me to be a partner in – in whatever it is you’re planning, you can’t expect me to go on blind trust!”

“I’m still conducting my own research,” Peter says mildly. “I would rather not confuse you with extraneous details before I have all the kinks worked out.”

“I’m not an idiot –”

“Rest assured,” Peter interrupts, “if I was capable of stopping the Extinction alone, I would. Unfortunately, it will require someone touched by the Beholding.”

“Why?”

“Because it requires this place, and this place” – Peter’s lip curls in distaste – “is the Eye’s seat of power. The One Alone has no dominion here.” Martin crosses his arms, unimpressed. “You are the only one who can do this, Martin.”

“Why?” Martin repeats.

Judging from the muscle ticking in Peter’s jaw, his limited supply of patience for conversation is precipitously depleting.

“No, really,” Martin presses, “why me? I mean” – he spreads his arms out with a scornful chuckle – “look at me. I’m not exactly hero material, am I?”

“That really depends on you. I can’t force you to cooperate. It won’t even work unless you’re a willing participant.”

“And what makes you think that your plan is the only way? You – you keep going on about how it’s my choice. Well – what if I choose to work with the others? It can’t hurt to have more eyes on the problem –” Martin rolls his eyes at Peter’s unconcealed revulsion. “Yeah, I know. No one would ever accuse you of being a team player, obviously. But I can be the liaison; you don’t have to interact with anyone at all.” Would prefer you don’t interact with anyone at all, Martin thinks. “I mean, that’s already my role, isn’t it? Dealing with people so you don’t have to?”

“Martin,” Peter says, low and dangerous.

“I’ll do it off the clock, even. I’ll isolate myself in my office during the workday, or whatever” – Martin gives a flippant wave of his hand – “and continue researching the Extinction.” And practically running the whole damn place on an assistant’s salary, he grouses silently. “After hours I’ll pursue my own research with the others.”

“Part-time isolation will not suffice to equip you with the power you’ll need.” Peter presses his lips into a pale, rigid line. “Be reasonable. Are you really willing to risk an apocalypse, just because you can’t appreciate solitude?”

“If it starts to look like there’s no other option, I’ll reconsider.”

“And if the Extinction emerges while you’re wasting time searching for an alternative that doesn’t exist?”

“Based on the limited information you’ve given me, I don’t think the Extinction is going to just… emerge overnight. I’m still not even convinced it’s going to be worse than any other Fear. I mean, the Flesh is relatively new, isn’t it? And it didn’t… leave the fear economy in shambles, or whatever.”

“It isn’t about competition, Martin.” Peter releases a slow plume of fog through his nose before continuing, voice cool but simmering with pique just under the surface. “The Extinction is different from the other Powers. It is defined by widescale eradication. The other Powers may seek to change the world, but none of them strive for a world without us.”

“But what makes you so sure the Extinction would?”

Peter’s eyes narrow. Ignoring him, Martin runs his thumb along his bottom lip as he replays Jon’s impassioned conjectures on the matter: It thrives on the potentiality of a mass extinction event, not the fulfillment of one.

“What’s to say it wouldn’t be just fine with the world as it is, like the End?” Martin says, more confidently now. “People have been prophesying about the end of the world for – all of human history, probably. I doubt we’ll stop anytime soon. Maybe at its core the Extinction is just… the fear of an uncertain future. And a particular future doesn’t have to be realized in order to inspire fear, as long as the potential is always there. It’s about the suspense – the ‘what ifs’, the unknown, the – the lack of control in it all.” Martin laughs. “In a way, that’s… that’s what most fears boil down to, isn’t it?”

“The stakes are rather high to gamble on a thought experiment, don’t you think?” The temperature plunges a few more degrees as Peter speaks. “I think that the most important ‘what if’ you should concern yourself with is what if you’re wrong?”

“And what if I’m not?” Martin counters. “You act so authoritative, but aren’t you also just speculating? When I agreed to work with you, you told me you would provide me with evidence to support your theory. So far, I’m not convinced. You’re going to have to give me more to go on than just ‘trust me.’ I mean – if it’s between trusting you and – and trusting Jon, and the others? You can’t really be surprised if I choose them over you.”

“Oh, Martin,” Peter tuts, shaking his head with derisive, disingenuous pity. “Since when has the trust you’ve placed in others ever been reciprocated?”

“I trust him,” Martin says defiantly.

“But does he trust you?” Peter pauses for effect. “Of all the times you’ve allowed yourself to form attachments, has anyone even once genuinely returned those affections?”

Jon did.

Whatever expression Martin is wearing brings a sneer to Peter’s face. Martin clenches his teeth and ignores him.

Jon does, he corrects. Present tense. He said as much.

Martin still can’t fathom what Jon could possibly see in him, but Jon wouldn’t lie about something like that, right? He wouldn’t.

…would he?

No, he wouldn’t, Martin chides. You know he wouldn’t. Trust him.

“Sure,” Peter persists, “you may open yourself up to the potential for something more, but you know as well as I do that it won’t last. Is the inevitable loss really worth the risk?”

“I don’t know,” Martin says. He tries to ignore the slight quaver that insinuates itself into the declaration. “But if I never take the risk, I’ll never know, will I?”

“I think you already know the answer.” Peter’s pale eyes glitter with spite. “Remember what it felt like, languishing at the Archivist’s deathbed. Recall the state you were in when you first came to me.”

The words are incisive, sliding under Martin’s skin and lodging there like shrapnel. He can feel his confidence waver, the conviction he stood fast on only seconds ago splintering underneath him like thin ice.

“How many times do you think he can court death and survive? He all but died stopping the last apocalypse; he was willing to bury himself alive for a woman who tried to kill him. How do you think he’ll react if you tell him about any of this? You think he’ll listen to reason? Trust in your judgment?” Peter fixes Martin with a smug, hungry look. “Or will he throw himself in front of the first bullet he sees?”

He already knows about all of this, Martin reminds himself. Jon isn’t about to sacrifice himself on account of the Extinction. Moreover, he seems to be genuinely committed to working as a team rather than striking out on his own.

But he also sees himself as a cataclysm waiting to happen, says the nagging doubt skulking in the far corners of Martin’s mind. As much as Jon insists that he doesn’t want to die, he’s already lived through one apocalypse. Martin has no doubt that Jon would sacrifice himself to prevent another, if it came down to it.

Jon is a powder keg of fear and guilt, and there is no shortage of potential ignition sources waiting in the wings. It only takes one untimely spark to set an archive ablaze.

“I trust him,” Martin repeats to himself, but the statement is rendered feeble by the leaden, frozen knot unfurling in his chest.

“Can you really weather another round of grief?” Peter continues, triumphant. He knows he’s found a gap in Martin’s defenses; all he needs to do now is twist the knife. “You’ve already done your mourning, cut the infection off at the source. Let him back in, and you only open yourself up to more pain. Better a numbed scar than a wound that never heals, don’t you think?”

“No.” There’s something off about Martin’s voice – as if it doesn’t belong to him; as if it’s originating from outside of himself, faint and frail and faraway, smothered by the cold, empty fog clogging his lungs. “N-no, I…”

“Connection is a fleeting, fickle thing,” Peter persists. “It’s a lie people tell themselves. The truth is that we are all alone. In the end, all we have is ourselves. Think about it.”

Unthinkingly, Martin shrinks away as Peter steps closer.

“You asked for more evidence.” Peter slides a few statement folders onto the desk. “Take some time to yourself. Consider whether you’re willing to wager on the fate of the world.”

When Martin looks up, he is alone.

“It’s so loud,” Daisy mutters heatedly, stalking to and fro like a panther in a cage. She scratches furiously at her forearms as she goes, blunt fingernails leaving faint red stripes on pale skin.

“Daisy,” Jon says evenly, “I think maybe you should –”

“Itch I can’t scratch.” She pivots on her heel, retracing her short path in the opposite direction. “Feels like fire under my skin.”

“I don’t think clawing your skin off is going to help.”

Daisy barks a laugh. “With what claws?” She stops short and brandishes the backs of her trembling hands, fingers splayed to highlight nails gnawed to the quick, ragged cuticles stained rust-brown with dried blood. “Dull now.” Her eyes go unfocused, staring vaguely at her hands as if she doesn’t recognize them. “Too dull.”

“I’m sorry,” Jon says, and he means it.

It never gets easier to witness her like this, frenetic and fraying in the throes of the Hunt’s compulsion. These spells have a way of making her features look sharper, her mannerisms more animalistic. She’s all protruding bones and sallow skin, but that seeming frailty does nothing to tame the violence thrumming in her veins. If anything, that all-consuming hunger only makes her more fearsome.

Jon’s strict rations have given him an underfed, pinched look as well, but at least he has something. Not enough to put meat on his bones, so to speak, but enough to stave off starvation. Daisy, though…

When Jon takes a step forward, she rounds on him with teeth bared and a snarl in her throat. Jon flinches at the sudden movement.

“You’re afraid of me.” Daisy exhales an exhausted rattle of a laugh, as if vindicated. “Good. You should be.”

“I’m not afraid of you,” Jon says. “I have an overactive startle reflex. Always have, really.”

“You’re lying.” Daisy breathes heavily through her nose, fists clenched at her sides now. “Admit it.”

Jon knows what she’s trying to do. She wants him to lash out, to bite back, to make her bleed. He’s uncomfortably familiar with that craving. It’s like looking into a mirror.

“I’m not afraid of you,” he reiterates.

“Liar,” Daisy hisses, fixing him with a baleful glare.

He’s seen her like this many times before, hunger-ravaged and swamped by bloodlust. She’ll doggedly bash herself against the nearest witness to her shame like a ship crashed against a jetty, driven forward again and again by cresting waves of guilt and self-loathing until she’s free-floating wreckage. Every time, it gets more and more difficult to gather up all the debris and repair the damage. Jon fears that one of these days, the storm will pass and there won’t be enough pieces left to put her back together.

“I’m not a knife you can cut yourself on, Daisy,” he says patiently.

Daisy looks positively mutinous, mouth opening and closing several times before erupting: “Why wouldn’t you be afraid of me?”

“I used to be,” Jon admits, leaning back against the tunnel wall to take some of the weight off his bad leg. “Before the Buried. I was terrified of you. Dreaded every moment I had to be alone with you. Thought it was only a matter of time before you finished the job.”

“It was,” she rasps out – and with that, her shoulders slump and her fists relax to hang limply at her sides, fingers jumping and twitching with the last dregs of her agitation.

“I know. But then you changed. You were different, after the Buried. As afraid of yourself as I used to be of you. As afraid of yourself as I was of myself.” He looks her in the eye as he speaks. “I looked at you and saw my own fear reflected back at me. There are so many things to be afraid of. You were – you are trying very hard not to be one of them.”

“If I’m afraid of me, you should be, too.”

“Are you afraid of me?” Jon asks, shaping each word carefully to keep the compulsion at bay.

She pauses, considering the question.

“No,” she says eventually. “Afraid for you, sometimes.”

“As I am for you.” Jon’s tentative smile fades after a moment. “I’ll admit, I do have… reflexive reactions, sometimes. There were a few incidents where I walked into the breakroom and you were holding a knife, and my fight-or-flight response kicked in before my conscious brain could catch up with reality.”

Daisy squeezes her eyes shut, wrapping her arms around her middle.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. When she opens her eyes, the look on her face isn’t pleading so much as it is resigned. She isn’t asking for forgiveness. Jon doubts she ever will.

It’s just one more thing they have in common.

“I know,” he says quietly. “To be clear, I don’t feel unsafe with you, as you are now. It’s just… flashbacks. They can be – unpredictable. And if I’m already feeling on edge, or – or not quite present, it doesn’t take much to set me off. But,” he adds, giving her a serious look, “I don’t want you walking on eggshells around me. That only puts me more on edge.”

“Fine. But will you tell me if I do something to scare you?”

“Yes.” She made the same request last time. “But I’ve never had to. You could always feel when I was afraid. From a few rooms away, even.”

“Yeah,” Daisy says with a choked laugh. “Your blood is – very loud sometimes.”

“And now?”

These episodes tend to be capricious. Sometimes, what seems to be the calm after the storm proves to be only a lull before a second wind. If the way she’s wobbling on her feet and favoring one leg is any indication, Jon suspects that the worst of the flare-up has passed for now, taking her adrenaline surge with it. Still, he waits for her confirmation. Daisy takes a minute to mull over the question, head cocked slightly to the side as if listening.

“Quieter,” she says.

With that, Jon lowers himself to the ground and sits with his back against the wall, beckoning her over to take a seat. She hesitates for a moment longer before following his lead, slumping down next to him with a labored sigh.

“Sorry for growling at you,” she says sheepishly, rubbing the back of her neck.

“Don’t worry about it.”

Daisy tilts her head back to stare at the ceiling. “You said I ended up going back to the Hunt last time.”

“Yes.”

“When?”

“September. But – but that doesn’t mean it has to happen again,” he adds hurriedly when he sees her face fall in a mixture of anguish and resignation. “It was – sort of a perfect storm of extenuating circumstances. Like I said before, if you didn’t let the Hunt back in, you and Basira would likely have been killed. But I think you knew you wouldn’t be coming back from it. Before you changed, you made Basira promise to hunt you down and kill you.”

“And did she?”

“She lost track of you in the chaos. You gave chase after one of the Hunters. Once you killed her, the other Hunter started hunting you. For revenge.” Jon’s voice drops to a low murmur. “A few weeks later, the world ended.”

Which makes it sound far more passive than it actually was, but Jon isn’t in the mood for a scolding should he opt for an ‘I’ statement.

“And then what?”

“You were a full-fledged Hunter in a – a perpetual fear generator of a world,” Jon says grimly. “Do you really need to hear the details?”

“Tell me,” Daisy says. “Please.”

Jon understands the need, but recounting the apocalypse never gets any easier. He closes his eyes, breathes deeply, and takes a moment to gather his thoughts.

“When I opened the door and let all the Fears into this reality,” he begins, “the world was divvied up into thousands of different domains, each belonging to a different shade of terror. With few exceptions, most people were confined to one domain – usually whatever aligned with their deepest fears. Avatars and monsters were subject to the Ceaseless Watcher, but otherwise able to exercise control over the humans in the domains of their patrons. Most seemed to stake out territory and settle in one place – customizing their own little spheres of influence, creating playgrounds of their own making. But some got around. You were one of the ones that traveled.”

“What was –” Daisy grimaces. “Who was I hunting?”

“Well… in that place, no one got what they deserved, only what would hurt the most. And people are rarely afraid of just one thing. Most were magnets for multiple fears. The more nomadic Avatars and monsters would gravitate towards whatever individuals were most susceptible to their power, so to speak.” He bites his lip. There’s really no tactful way to phrase this next part. “In your case, you had a roster of specific targets that you were tracking. Former prey. Whether you were drawn to them because of their own fear of you, or because some part of you judged them to have ‘gotten away,’ so to speak… I’m not entirely certain. It may have been a bit of both.”

“I see,” Daisy murmurs. “Guess it makes sense that I would rank high among some people’s greatest fears.”

“Basira was tracking you when we ran into her. We were with her when we found you.”

“And was I… still me?”

“Yes and no,” Jon says hesitantly. “You were you, in a way, but only a small part of you. The Hunter. Everything else was buried too deep. Drowned. Even if I could have brought you back, it would have killed you. You – you didn’t even recognize me, or Martin. You recognized Basira – saw her as pack, wanted her to join you in the Hunt – but…”

“You were prey,” Daisy says quietly.

“Yeah.”

“You never did manage to grow a self-preservation instinct, did you?” Daisy squints at him. “I went full monster on you, and you still want me to sit next to you now.”

“You had sharper teeth then,” Jon says drily. Daisy scoffs and nudges his shoulder with hers. She doesn’t draw back after making contact, and when Jon doesn’t pull away either, she leans into him.

“Basira kept her promise?” Daisy asks after a minute.

“Yes. She didn’t want to, but…” Jon swallows thickly, the memory of Basira’s heartbreak bringing to mind his own. “It wasn’t an easy decision.”

Daisy rubs at her chest with one hand, as if to soothe an ache. “It wasn’t fair for me to ask that of her, was it?”

“Maybe not,” Jon sighs. “It seems fair choices are hard to come by, for most of us.”

“I… I don’t want her to have to make that choice this time.”

“Neither do I.”

“It’s never going to stop, is it?” Daisy glances at him, allowing her head to rest lightly on his shoulder. “It’s only going to get worse.”

“I’m sorry.” What else is there to say?

“Melanie got away,” Daisy says, a tinge of bargaining in her tone. “She managed to purge the Slaughter. And break away from the Eye.”

“Her situation was… different from ours. She wasn’t as far gone as we are. The Slaughter hadn’t fully claimed her, and the Eye never took her as an Avatar. But you’ve been living with the Hunt for most of your life; I signed myself over to the Beholding the moment I became the Archivist. We’ve become… attached to our patrons, dependent on them for survival. Symbiotic, in a twisted sort of way.”

“You really don’t think there’s a way back, then.”

“I don’t know for sure. I’ve seen it before, in my future, but – the world was different then. During the apocalypse, I was able to, uh… shift a person’s status from Watched to Watcher. I – I mean, technically everyone was Watched – the Eye had dominion over everything – but I could give someone control over one of the smaller domains. Create new Avatars, for lack of a better term.

“But turn a Watcher into solely the Watched, and they would typically unravel. I don’t know if that’s because the full focus of the Ceaseless Watcher’s gaze just happens to be lethal – particularly for Avatars aligned with other Powers – or if an Avatar is simply unable to survive being cut off from their patron regardless of the means of separation. I do Know that I wouldn’t have been able to survive being cut off from the Eye unscathed. I was… too much a part of the Eye in that reality. Not sure about now. For either of us.”

“That’s a roundabout way of saying ‘no.’”

“I’m not saying no, I’m saying that I don’t know. Supposedly escaping the Buried was impossible, and here we are.”

“Apples and oranges,” Daisy says sullenly.

“Maybe. I think it’s all too complex for clear-cut categories. Even the hard-and-fast ‘rules’ are only as strong as our collective belief in them. Almost like our expectations shore them up. I’ve witnessed all of reality being rewritten – all physical laws and supposed universal constants reshaped to center the Eye.” He reaches one hand up to tug on the hair at the back of his neck. “After all I’ve Seen, it’s difficult to conceive of anything being categorically impossible. Between all the dream logic and reality bending, there’s plenty of space for firsts and exceptions to the rules.”

‘I don’t knows’ are where the hope lives, Martin said once. At the time, Jon teased him for being a hopeless romantic, but truthfully, Jon was just as hopelessly endeared by Martin’s belief in such things.

“Have you talked to Georgie yet today?” Daisy asks, apparently ready to change the subject.

“Oh, uh – yes. This morning.”

“And?”

“Melanie was out of surgery and stable, but she wasn’t awake yet. Georgie promised to call tonight with an update.” Assuming nothing major comes up before then, a worried voice in Jon’s head supplies. He shakes his head to jog the thought loose. “Speaking of Georgie… have you given any thought to her suggestion?”

“What,” Daisy says, drolly skeptical, “playing a video game?”

“I realize it’s… somewhat out of the box, but it might be worth a try. Like Georgie said, there are multiplayer games where you can, uh… hunt down other players.”

Daisy plucks absently at her collar, glowering at the opposite wall as if the bricks there committed a personal offense. “It’s not the same.”

“A simulation might not come close to a real hunt, no, but – you might still get something out of it? Maybe?” Daisy directs her scowl up at the ceiling. Jon only digs his heels in, undeterred. “There are even some that have a survival horror theme. An aesthetic that already puts players in the mindset to be frightened, you know?”

“People play those games for fun, Sims.” She finally looks at him, eyes narrowed. “It’s about thrills, not mortal fear.”

“Sometimes genuine fear can sneak through. Haven’t you ever been so creeped out by a horror story that it stayed with you after nightfall?”

“Not really?”

“O-oh. Well, some people have that experience.” Jon gives an awkward little cough. “Anyway, under the right circumstances, a game can get the adrenaline pumping as well as a chase can. A fight-or-flight response doesn’t necessarily require a real physical threat.”

Daisy raises her eyebrows, transparently cynical. “Do you really think the Hunt is going to be satisfied with jump scares and – and low-stakes adrenaline rushes filtered through a screen?”

“No,” Jon admits. “But it might take the edge off. Sort of like reading old statements does for me. Not enough to stop you starving, but maybe enough to distract from the hunger pangs. At least temporarily. If nothing else, you did say you need a new hobby, and it’s not like this place is overflowing with viable entertainment options.”

“I guess,” Daisy sighs. “I mean, it’s not like I’m paying rent. May as well squander my paycheck.”

“If that’s the case, you should see if that eBay listing for that vintage The Archers board game is still up,” Jon says drily. “Last I checked, it was £2 with no bidders.”

“Yeah, and £30 shipping.”

“Sounds like £32 well spent, if you ask me.”

Daisy snorts and bumps her shoulder against his. “You, Jonathan Sims, are an absolute menace.”

Adrift and thoroughly divorced from the concept of time, end of the workday passes Martin by without his notice. Once again, he wonders whether Peter deliberately assigned him an office with no external window, not only to put another wall between him and the rest of the world, but to make it easier for him to lose track of time.

For an interminable stretch of time he sits catatonic, mind peppered with sporadic sensory input: Dead-weight limbs, listless and foreign-feeling. The brush of fabric resting against bare skin, every point of weightless contact a violation. The distant ticking of clockwork, rote and irrevocable.

Stand up, comes the thought, detached and intrusive: an instruction he cannot parse; empty phonemes wafted into a vacant mind, abandoned there to echo and disperse until they lose all meaning. A fragment of a signal from brain to nerves to fingers presses numb fingertips to thumbs, a cautious test yielding no sensation but for the vague, spongey give of flesh.

Then the body ostensibly belonging to him is on its feet, the connection between floor and soles disturbingly incongruent with unreality. Walking now, every footfall jarring in its impact; every step stretched and blurred like a botched time-lapse photograph; every molasses-sluggish forward motion met with invisible resistance, like swimming against a sludgy current.

He does not remember how or when or under whose direction he arrives in the Archives, swaying at the threshold of the Head Archivist’s office. Empty and still. Silence so pervasive it’s almost tangible. Viscous and inexorable. Trapping him like a fly in honey. Drowning.

When next he becomes aware of his surroundings, he’s wavering at the bottom of a ladder. Walls curving up and over his head, a brickwork warren stretching on and out into the murk.

Standing in place. Hovering like an afterimage. Rootless and incorporeal. Searching for… staring at… calling to…

There: something real.

“Martin?” Jon’s breath fogs the air as he speaks, but the way he says the name… his voice seems to cradle the word, shielding it against the cold. He sits up straighter, keen gaze sweeping the area like a lighthouse beacon. “Martin, is that you?”

That’s me, Martin thinks, and then, wonderingly: He says your name like it’s something precious.

At that thought, Jon’s eyes land on him like a searchlight.

“There you are.” His soft smile immediately falters, brow furrowing in concern. “Are you alright?”

He’s sat on the floor with his back against the wall, one knee drawn up to his chest, and Daisy pressed up against his side in a mirrored position, sharing a pair of corded earphones. Daisy is already thumbing at the screen of her phone, presumably pausing whatever it is they’re listening to, as Jon removes his earbud.

Martin opens his mouth to speak, but the air in his lungs has turned to viscid fog and the confused tangle of half-formed thoughts in his mind refuse to coalesce into actual words. Jon exchanges a glance with Daisy, who is already moving to stand. Martin wants to object – she doesn’t have to leave on his account; he can see that they’re busy; he’s fine; he’s just overreacting – but before he can cobble together a protest, she’s halfway to her feet, gripping the wall for support.

“I’m alright now,” Martin can hear her say.

“You’re sure?” Jon asks in a low murmur.

“Yeah.” She winces as she straightens her spine. “Knowing Basira, she’s still pouring over the same statements as she was this morning. She could do with an interruption.”

“Can you manage the ladder?”

Daisy stretches her leg out, testing her mobility. “Think so.”

They give each other another long look, a shared nod, and without another word, Daisy staggers her way to the exit and mounts the ladder.

As it does every time he witnesses these displays of unspoken understanding between them, an ugly pang of jealousy burns in Martin’s chest – some combination of envy, inadequacy, longing, and loneliness. Possessiveness, almost – and an instant later, the shame sets in.

But then the trapdoor closes, Jon looks Martin in the eye again, and the sincere, tender warmth sheltering there is enough to leave Martin reeling. It’s hard to comprehend anyone – let alone Jonathan Sims – looking at him like that; difficult to reconcile requited affection with a lifetime of fruitless want. Martin can’t shake the feeling that it will always be this way – and that his inability to trust in unconditional love is precisely what makes him so unlovable in the first place.

Jon clears his throat and pats the floor beside him. He’s seated on a blanket, Martin just now notices, folded over several times to cushion the hard ground.

He’d better not be napping down here, Martin thinks to himself.

“Martin,” Jon says, in that impossibly soft tone he’s taken to using around Martin these days, “I’d like you to come sit, if you’re amenable.”

It’s such a Jon way of phrasing the invitation, and the familiarity it engenders has Martin accepting without a conscious thought. He settles himself beside Jon, close but not touching. Those few inches of distance manage to be simultaneously loathsome and assuring. Martin lets his hand rest in that vacant space, fingers clenching around a fistful of blanket.

Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Jon’s hand twitch, as if fighting back the urge to reach out and touch. Instead, he starts to rub the fabric of his trouser leg between his thumb and forefinger.

“What do you need right now?” Jon asks.

“I…” Martin pauses, unsettled by the sound of his own voice, grating and almost unfamiliar to his ears.

“Take your time.”

It takes a minute for Martin to wrap his mouth around more than one syllable.

“Nothing,” he says, the weight of the word nearly pinning his tongue in place.

“It doesn’t sound like nothing.”

Several more minutes pass before Martin is able to construct a full sentence.

“I’m just being stupid.” The words seem to echo faintly in the tunnel, despite how quietly he says them.

“What do you need?” Jon asks again.

“Nothing,” Martin repeats dully. He doesn’t need anything.

Jon doesn’t immediately respond. Martin can feel himself go rigid, anticipating… what – aggravation, impatience, disengagement? But Jon only runs a thumb along his jawline, a thoughtful frown on his face.

“Okay,” he says eventually, “what do you want, then? What would – what would help you feel better right now?”

“I… I don’t know,” Martin says in a voice so feeble it’s nearly inaudible. He flexes his fingers uncertainly, chasing after any physical sensation at all, only to find them numb and deathlike. The helpless sigh that shudders out of him wants to be a whimper. “I just – didn’t – don’t – feel real. Feels like I’m not really here.”

“Hmm.” Jon looks at him – really looks at him, taking his time to study Martin’s face. “Well, I can confirm that you are here.”

“You… you can see me?” Martin asks meekly, pleadingly, dreading the answer.

“Yes.” Jon pauses. “And if you’re agonizing over being a bother, don’t, because you aren’t. I always like seeing you.”

He should trust Jon – he does trust Jon – but it’s still a constant struggle to drown out that Lonely part of him that insists that isolation is safer, more dependable, and far more habitable. Unthinkingly, Martin reaches over, hand trembling in the air above Jon’s, fingertips just barely ghosting across scarred skin.

“Would you like me to hold your hand…?” Jon ventures.

Martin’s fingers curve inward as he pulls back slightly. “I, um.”

“You can say no,” Jon reminds him.

“I… I want it, but I – I – I don’t know if I can handle it right now, and I –” Martin draws back entirely, flapping both hands in frustration, trying to relieve the pins-and-needles sensation prickling through his veins. “I hate this. I hate being like this.”

Martin grimaces at the outburst, but Jon doesn’t seem to be judging him. Instead, he’s looking off to the side, a crease between his eyebrows now, as if he’s working through a problem.

“No skin-to-skin contact,” he says to himself, and then he looks to Martin. “Pressure helps me sometimes, when I feel like I’m not real. You could… lean against me? If you want.”

“I…”

“You don’t have to,” Jon rushes to reassure him.

“It’s – not that I don’t want to. I guess I’m just…” Martin can feel himself flush with embarrassment. “It’s daft, but I’m worried that I’ll be – I don’t know, incorporeal, or something.”

“I distinctly recall you telling me that you’re not a ghost.”

It takes a few seconds for Jon’s deadpan humor to sink in. When it does, Martin nearly chokes on a surprised laugh.

“I still can’t believe you thought I was a ghost,” he says, cracking a smile. The tight, bitter-cold knot in his chest yields just a little, like ice disintegrating under a spring thaw.

“In my defense, I was quite distraught at the time.” Jon’s eyes wrinkle at the corners and Martin is struck by overwhelming fondness. He doesn’t pull away when Jon reaches out, open palm hovering just above his shoulder. “May I?”

Cautiously, Martin nods.

“Hmm.” Jon applies the lightest touch at first, watching Martin’s face carefully. He waits until Martin nods for him to continue before he presses down more firmly. Before long, Martin can feel the warmth of Jon’s hand through his jumper. That warmth carries over into Jon’s smile. “Feels solid to me.”

The confirmation comes as a relief, as foolish as that makes Martin feel. He braces himself and leans against Jon’s side, releasing his held breath when his body meets with tangible resistance. At first he worries that Jon, scrawny as he is, won’t be able to support the weight, but he doesn’t budge when Martin melts against him. After that, it’s a struggle for Martin to keep his eyes open.

Jon must notice, because he whispers, “You can rest. I’ll be here.”

Martin doesn’t even have the strength to nod, let alone the energy to argue. He allows the steady rise and fall of Jon’s chest to lull him into an almost meditative state, his mind still floating somewhere outside of himself, but now tethered to the ground.

Then the silence starts nipping at his heels.

“Too quiet,” he mumbles. “Talk to me?”

“What about?”

“Anything.”

“Did you know that highland cattle have a double coat?” Jon says after a minute of consideration. “It insulates them against the cold. The outer layer is long – the longest hair of any cattle breed, in fact – and oily, which helps ward off the rain. Underneath is softer, almost woolly hair.”

Once Jon gets started, those little scraps of trivia soon progress to a nearly encyclopedic lecture. It doesn’t take long for Martin to lose himself in the rich timbre of Jon’s voice as he goes on about various Scottish breeds of cattle. Although he doesn’t fall fully asleep, Martin manages to drift in and out of consciousness enough that he loses track of time once more. This time, though, it’s a comfortable daze: there’s someone to keep him from straying too far.

At some point, he unthinkingly seeks out Jon’s hand. Jon presses his thumb into the center of Martin’s palm, rubbing small circles there, coaxing Martin further into peaceful relaxation.

“Sorry for interrupting you and Daisy earlier,” Martin murmurs groggily into Jon’s shoulder.

“Oh, we were just listening to The Archers.”

“Are you taking the piss?” Martin asks, opening one eye to scrutinize Jon’s expression.

“Unfortunately not.”

“You like The Archers.”

“Good lord, no. Blame Daisy.”

“Daisy likes The Archers,” Martin says, even more dubiously, sitting up now to squint at Jon.

“There are stranger things.”

Martin snorts and nestles into Jon’s side again. “If you say so.”

“Feeling better now?” Martin reflexively snuggles closer. Jon laughs softly, a little puff of a breath that rustles Martin’s hair. “I’m not going to deny you cuddles if the answer is ‘yes,’ you know.”

“Cuddles,” Martin whispers, the word dissolving into a clipped giggle.

“What?” Jon tilts his head. There’s a puzzled scowl on his face, as if he’s trying to decide whether or not he should take offense. It’s impossibly endearing.

“Cuddles,” Martin repeats, in a poor approximation of Jon’s voice this time. “Not a word I ever expected to hear from you.”

“Quiet, you,” Jon huffs, but he can’t disguise the way his indignant pout cracks into a smile under the weight of his own amusement. He almost seems to preen, as if pulling a laugh from Martin is a victory on which to pride himself. He reaches up with his free hand, pausing just above the top of Martin’s head. “May I?”

At Martin’s affirmative, Jon begins to comb his fingers through Martin’s hair, fingernails lightly scratching against his scalp. For the briefest of moments, some primal fragment of him recoils from the contact, instinctively unnerved by the vulnerability inherent to such closeness. Martin spurns that voice, breathes through its fit of angst and panic, and leans into the touch.

Little by little, step by step, he’s acclimating. He just wishes that it wasn’t such a process each and every time he lets his guard down like this.

“Bad day?” Jon asks once Martin settles.

“Something like that.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really,” Martin groans. “But I should.”

“Only if you want to.”

“No, you should know, I just…” Martin heaves a wearied sigh. “Peter’s back.”

Jon gasps like he’s had the wind knocked out of him. The hand stroking Martin’s hair abruptly stills; the other, still clasped in Martin’s, constricts like a death-grip.

“Did he hurt you?” The question is steeped in an artificial, fragile sort of calm, but Jon can’t quite mask the intensity buzzing just under the surface: fear, protectiveness, and desperation all intermingled and reinforced by that ominous inkling of power that, despite his intentions, lurks behind every word.

“He didn’t do anything out of the ordinary. Just… trying to get me to recommit to the Lonely.” Martin scoffs. “And of course he was trying to do it in a way that would make me feel like it was my idea. Get me to convince myself that it was what I wanted, rather than something he was pressuring me into.”

“Of all the Powers, the Lonely is one of the most insidious, I think,” Jon says quietly. “It seeks out victims who already have one foot in the Lonely, reinforces those fears, promises kinship – a paradoxical form of it, anyway – and then it just… waits. Spend enough time disconnected from the rest of the world, and it doesn’t take long to start telling yourself the lie that it’s for the best. That it’s what you are; that it’s all you’re meant to be.”

“And I fell for it,” Martin mutters.

“Anyone would, subjected to the right conditions.” Jon waits until he catches Martin’s eye before he continues. “It isn’t your fault. This is what the Fears do. It’s what they are. They find an opening, they sink their hooks in, and they pull you under. They don’t let go until either you drown or you learn to breathe fear. The only way out is for someone to throw you a lifeline, and even then, the odds aren’t great. And the Lonely in particular – one of the first things it does is make it difficult to even conceive of a lifeline. It’s hard to catch hold of one if you never think to look for it.”

“I thought you hated convoluted metaphors.”

“Yes, well, unfortunately the Powers That Be tend to elude any sort of straightforward, concrete discussion,” Jon grouses. “Just one more reason to begrudge them, really. My point is, the Lonely is an insufferable liar and so is Peter.”

“What do you know, they’re perfect for each other.” The remark succeeds in putting a lopsided smirk on Jon’s face, much to Martin’s delight. “Anyway, Peter said his plan won’t work unless I’m voluntarily Lonely.”

“He’s right, although his plan has nothing to do with the Extinction. He needs you to choose the Lonely because those were the terms of his bet with Jonah. He poaches you out from under the Eye – gets you to pledge yourself to the Forsaken – and he wins, with the Institute as a prize. He fails to convert you, he loses, and he does what Jonah wants, which is for me to be marked by the Lonely.”

Jon says that last part so nonchalantly. As if it’s a foregone conclusion; as if he’s become so accustomed to dehumanization that it doesn’t even give him pause. Martin grits his teeth, biting back a surge of anger on Jon’s behalf.

“Yeah, well,” he says tightly, “Peter bet on the wrong horse.”

A sharp intake of breath leaves Jon sounding strangled when he says, eyes wide and lips parted, “Oh?”

“I mean, he can’t just sic the Lonely on me like he would any other victim, right? That wouldn’t count as a win. He needs me to choose it. And I’m not going to do that.”

“Yeah?” The expression of unguarded, cautious hope dawning on Jon’s face makes him look years younger.

“Yeah,” Martin says, feeling increasingly emboldened. “The funny thing is, I don’t – I don’t think I ever chose loneliness. I never wanted it – that was just a lie I told myself, and the Lonely just – echoed it back to me. S-so Peter’s out of luck, because if there are other options, then the Lonely will always be involuntary. Because it’s not what I want.”

“You – you mean it?” Jon brightens, leaning forward.

Martin’s heart skips a beat and flutters hummingbird-quick against his ribs. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen Jon smile – not like this, that is, beaming and uninhibited and altogether breathtaking. Immediately, Martin decides that he wants more. It seems wrong for something so exhilarating to be so rare.

He doesn’t know which of them moves first, and it doesn’t matter, because Jon is in his lap, and Jon is nuzzling into his shoulder, and Jon is here and solid and so, so alive in Martin’s arms, breathing warm and steady into his neck, smiling against his skin, hands scrabbling at his back to cling to his jumper. Martin’s fingers seek purchase of their own, and then something clicks.

“Jon,” he says, leaning back just far enough to confirm his suspicion, “is this mine?”

“Are you just now noticing?” Jon asks, devastatingly fond. “Martin, I’ve been wearing this jumper off and on for the last several weeks.”

“You have?” Martin all but squeaks, heat creeping up his neck and to the tips of his ears. “No. No, you –” Jon’s grin is widening, leaving Martin increasingly flustered. “I – I mean, yes, you have, obviously, I know that, but I – I – I –” Martin gulps, mortified, as Jon finally fails to contain his suppressed laughter. “Look, I didn’t recognize it until just now, alright?”

“Well,” Jon says, ducking his head to chuckle softly against Martin’s throat, “it’s mine now, and you can’t have it back.”

Which is fine with Martin, really, because he would be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t helplessly charmed by the newfound knowledge that not only is Jon an unrepentant clothes-thief, but apparently also an insatiable cuddler.

End Notes:

To address Martin’s concern: Jon does, in fact, nap in the tunnels sometimes. Listen, with Jurgen Leitner (derogatory) in absentia, there was an opening for the position of Beleaguered Tunnel-Haunting Hermit and Jon has all the necessary qualifications.

So anyways, who else thinks Peter’s bio on a dating app would probably just be that “every living creature on this earth dies alone” quote from Donnie Darko? I bet he thinks 'survival of the fittest' means 'every man for himself'. What an insufferable clown.

No Archive-speak in this chapter to cite.

I wanted to make a joke about a The Archers-themed Monopoly, so I asked duckduckgo if it was a thing. Sadly, it is not. There IS, however, a 1960s The Archers board game, and yes, there ARE eBay listings for it.

The first section of this chapter was written before eps 190-192 dropped. I think it still lines up well enough with what we saw of Melanie & Georgie’s characterization in these most recent episodes, with the qualifier that things have gone very differently in this AU compared with canon. (Also, I took some liberties wrt Georgie’s not-feeling-fear thing, obvi. Some of it matches with the most recent episodes, some of it not so much, but I decided to keep it anyways.)

Oh and I think I might have given myself cavities with the last section of this chapter. (I’m aro-spec; it’s hard to tell when I’m going over the top, but hopefully it’s fluffy without being overly cloying.)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #tma spoilers #long post

[snkpolls]

SnK Episodes 73 & 74 Poll Results (for Manga Readers)

The poll closed with 135 responses. Thank you to everyone who participated!

Please note that these are the results for the Manga Readers’ poll. If you wish to see the results for the Anime Only Watchers’ poll, click here.

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RATE EPISODE 73: SAVAGERY 129 responses

As expected, this highly anticipated episode didn’t fail to deliver and fans absolutely loved it, with over 95% giving it a 4-5 star rating. 

I loved the episode 73. The fight between Levi and Zeke was spectacular! The animation was 10/10, definitely worth watching. Good, old Kenny's theme brought memories back. I have to admit that Mappa made Levi look hundred times better and definitely more masculine. 

RATE EPISODE 74: SOLE SALVATION 128 responses

While episode 74 generated slightly less enthusiasm across the board, it still managed to garner a high rating from respondents. 

when i read the manga version, i wasn't that much moved by zeke's backstory. but with the music, voice and color additions... it's fucking heartbreaking. mappa did an outstanding job. and the tension when he activated the thunder spear???? the animation? we were blessed. ALSO! the movement of the bodies when they threw the ball looked so realistic! it's a tiny detail that i loved. 

Zook

WHICH WAS THE MOST MEMORABLE MOMENT OF EPISODE 73? 128 responses

Levi vs. Zeke 2.0 got the largest piece of the pie, getting 23.4% of the vote. Behind that was the moment when Levi had to kill his comrades in titan form (14.8%), Armin punching Eren in the face (14.1%), Eren disparaging Armin and Mikasa (11.7%), and at 8.6%, that one screenshot of Armin the entire fandom was thirsting over. Shoutout to the person in the comments who wanted Mikasa to pin them down (the pollster writing this feels the same!).

💥🐒 mOnKe and Lebi 🍄and Jean go BOOM 🐎💥

For me, the real gem of EMA talk isn't that one Armin frame that everyone's going crazy about. It's the frame before it, that low angle of Mikasa half sitting on the table holding Armin down. Holy...I wanted to be Armin so bad right at that moment.

WHICH WAS THE MOST MEMORABLE MOMENT OF EPISODE 74? 127 responses

35.4% felt the most memorable scene from this episode was the ending scene where Zeke triggers the thunderspear and sends Levi flying. Behind that was the moment where Zeke listens to Grisha yelling through the door (18.1%), Zeke and Ksaver coming up with the euthenasia plan together (8.7%) and Ksaver telling Zeke to sell out his parents (7.9%).

EPISODE 73 IS TITLED, “SAVAGERY.” OF THE OPTIONS BELOW, WHICH CHARACTER DO YOU THINK BEST EXEMPLIFIED THIS WORD? 128 responses

In an episode filled with both verbal and physical violence, we asked which character you thought best exemplified the episode’s title. 35.2% felt that Eren was the worst offender with his words and actions against Armin and Mikasa. 29.7% felt that Levi’s violent acts against Zeke were deserving of the title “savagery.” Only 22.7% felt that Floch most suited the episode title, while just a small handful, 12.5%, felt that Zeke is the one most deserving of the term.

HOW BADLY DID YOU FEEL ABOUT LEVI HAVING TO KILL HIS OWN SQUAD? 127 responses

The majority felt, on at least some level, sorrow for what Levi had to do in order to survive and catch up to Zeke. Though a small handful didn’t feel too bad for our Captain.

ON A SCALE OF 1-5, HOW WOULD YOU RATE LEVI VS. ZEKE 2.0? 127 responses

In general, the fight received positive reception. Though it wasn’t all hype, as the highest ranking was actually a 4 and not a 5. It was hype, but not quite hype enough for us manga readers. 

I loved Levi vs Zeke 2.0 but they really should have used the instrumental version instead of K21, I laughed out loud when I heard that beacuse I felt like it took all the seriousness from the scene

levi and zeke goat

WHY DO YOU THINK FLOCH MADE THE RECRUITS BATTER INSTRUCTOR SHADIS? 128 responses

The majority of respondents feel that Floch’s motivations are a mix of factors. For those who did think there was a more specific reason, though, 16.4% felt it’s simply a matter of Floch having a massive ego trip. 10.2% feel that Floch truly believes what he says about taking out the old and bringing in the new, and 7.8% believe Floch simply wanted to make an example out of Shadis (presumably alluding to the fate of those who resist the Yeagerists). 

He was testing if the recruits can go this far

He wants to intimidate people into joining his cause by using violence and threats of arrest and also make them feel empowered by his ideals.

Standard protocol when there's a change of regime, you'd want to eliminate the old guards' influence ASAP.  

That's how fascism works

All of the above and the fact that he's a fascist.

HOW CUTE WAS BITTY ZEKE? 130 responses

After a long time waiting, we finally got to see child Zeke in animated form. The vast majority think he was cute as a button, ready to pinch his little baby cheeks! Only a small handful think bby Zeke is anything but cute.

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT GRISHA’S TREATMENT OF ZEKE? 130 responses

This chapter created more controversy surrounding Grisha after it’s publication. In general, fans still aren’t particularly proud of Grisha’s behavior. 36.9% felt that Zeke didn’t deserve any of the treatment he got from his father, and 24.6% outright want to give Grisha the award for worst parent in the entire series. 24.6% don’t approve of Grisha’s behavior, but they do empathize with the way Grisha must have felt. 10.8% feel that while he could have treated Zeke better, he also could have been much worse. 

Zeke was a sweet child but no child deserves to be treated like that regardless of how nice or well behaved they are. Grisha is disgusting.

Grisha was a large dick and asshole and he deserved the all punishment he got. 

Grisha is a terrible father but such a well written character 

it's crazy to me how people really thought grisha wasn't that in the wrong in terms of how he raised zeke.

DO YOU FEEL THAT ZEKE WOULD HAVE GROWN INTO AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT KIND OF PERSON IF GRISHA HAD TREATED HIM BETTER? 129 responses

Just over half of respondents think it’s possible Zeke could have become a different kind of person if he’d had a brighter and happier childhood, though they didn’t want to say for sure as they feel that Grisha’s treatment wasn’t the sole reason why Zeke sees the world the way he does. 41.9% believe that the outcome of Zeke’s mindset would have been completely different. Only a few think that he would have come to the same conclusions about the world either way. 

Unless Grisha gives up being a restorationist I don't see it as better treatment, if he does then yes

Yes. The whole point for the euthanasia plan was that Eldian children don't have to go through what he went through.

WHO DO YOU THINK HAD A BIGGER IMPACT IN SHAPING ZEKE’S WORLDVIEW? 126 responses

When it comes to “father figures” in Zeke’s life, 65.1% believe that Ksaver holds much more responsibility than Grisha does when it comes to the way Zeke views the world.

WHO TURNED OUT MORE LIKE GRISHA, IN YOUR OPINION? 128 responses

Between Grisha’s two sons, 68% of respondents feel that Eren is the brother who turned out much more similarly to Grisha, leaving only 32% who feel the opposite and think Zeke ultimately turned out more like Grisha in the end (For those who are curious, 81% of anime-only fans feel that Eren is the one who turned out more like Grisha).

WHO WOULD YOU MOST LIKE TO PUNCH IN THE FACE AFTER THESE EPISODES? 129 responses

There was a lot that happened in these episodes that could have bred resentment from fans. From the options provided, 35.7% of respondents would most like to punch Floch in the face. 22.5% wish to channel their inner Armin and give Eren a sock to the face. 14.7% felt more visceral toward Grisha. 11.6% don’t want to punch anyone at all. For those who wanna punch the pollsters, meet us out back at 16:00 hours.

Floch sucks

HOW DO YOU FEEL FINALLY GETTING TO SEE THE PAINFUL EMA CONVERSATION IN ANIME FORM? 127 responses

A lot has happened since chapter 112 published, but the chapter still continues to stick with us and spark conversation. With such a highly anticipated scene finally being animated, we wanted to know how you felt seeing the scene reimagined with music, voice acting and color. 29.9% just felt that the chapter hits much differently now after the contents of chapter 138. 25.2% had a much harder time watching the scene in anime form than they felt reading the manga. 12.6% felt even more strongly, expressing extreme heartbreak over E/MA’s breakup. Only a handful of respondents felt the scene hit much harder in the manga.

I'm over it, I felt nothing. Props to Yuki Kaji though, his voice acting is as amazing as ever.

I liked both manga and anime versions, but hearing Armin's sharp intakes of breath from being hit ;~; MY POOR BABY!

M M G H, boi

mmgh

There is no pain, only support for whatever horny animator drew that shot of Armin.

I love EMA emotionally destroying each other and Mappa made it SO FUCKING GOOD, I watched this scene like 100 times

Eren = me | Armin's fist = EMA scene punching me across my expressionless face | Mikasa = my anime-only gf

BEFORE THE FINAL CHAPTER HITS, WHAT DO YOU THINK WAS EREN’S “TRAIN OF THOUGHT” IN REGARDS TO HIS WORDS IN THIS CONVERSATION? 126 responses

With the last chapter just over a week away, we’re hoping to finally get some closure in terms of Eren’s characterization and the choices he’s made. 42.9% believe that Eren chose to be cruel to his friends in the hope it would drive them to be willing to put an end to Eren’s life. 24.6% felt the opposite, hoping that Eren would push them into a corner where they wouldn’t interfere with his plan at all. 18.3% still aren’t sure what to think. Will we get answers, Isayama?!

He wants to "free" Mikasa and armin from himself because he knew he was gonna die

Probably the first option but there might be some truth to what he was saying.

He definitely wanted to push them away and antagonize them but I'm still not completely sure why. I don't feel we've gotten a satisfying explanation. 

He chose to be cruel to Mikasa and Armin in an attempt to make it so they wouldn't mourn him when he was dead and could be free of him entirely.

Eren still has heart warming feelings to Mikasa and - by being cruel - he wanted her to let him go (and most likely) kill him. His feelings to Armin however are much colder and they don't seem to like each other anymore. They are way too different. Armin and Eren are like two deities who will always fight each other.  

Like he said in 138, he wanted to push them away so they would move on from his death and live happily without him.

SOME DIALOGUE FROM THE EMA CONVERSATION WAS CUT OR SHORTENED. WHICH PART(S) DID YOU MISS THE MOST? 125 responses

Due to time constraints, the EMA conversation took a big hit in terms of how much content was cut from it. Of the cuts we noticed, the dialogue snippets that were most missed by manga readers were; Eren bringing up Armin’s good judgement when they were younger, Eren telling Mikasa that the “real her” disappeared in the mountain cabin, the mention of Ackermans being a “byproduct” of titan science, and the mention that Ackermans manifest the power of titans in human form.

OVERALL, HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE AFOREMENTIONED CUTS? 123 responses

When it comes to how manga readers actually felt about the cuts in the EMA conversation, 35% agreed that they felt bitter about them, while still understanding that there was probably little other choice. 22% think it was just too watered down and cut down the impact significantly. 14.6% didn’t care, 11.4% felt the cuts were actually a positive thing, and 10.6% feel that the manga is simply just the superior medium for this series.

I find it interesting that the titan science stuff was cut and wonder if maybe Isayama agreed to those cuts bc he knows he won't have time to really explain in the last chapter of the manga.

Oof, too many important informations have been cut. 

I'm okay either way!

Although I would've loved to see all of those aforementioned cuts animated, I understand why they had to be cut in the first place, so I'm not bitter by it at all. I still think the conversation still had the impact it was intended to have.

I kind of understand why some dialogues would have to be cut but it lessened the impact of how Eren tried to hurt his friends which I personally think is too much even if he might have good intentions in doing so. I also like how MAPPA rearranges scenes to better fit the airtime limitation of each episode.

MAPPA CHANGED EREN’S EXPRESSION AFTER HE WAS CALLED OUT BY ARMIN. THOUGHTS? 127 responses

A small change can impact a lot… or perhaps not. 34.6% felt let down by the change in Eren’s facial expression after Armin calls him out for hurting Mikasa, feeling that his original expression spoke volumes about his true feelings about what he’d done. 28.3% didn’t notice any change at all and so are unaffected. 15.7% are on a similar page and feel that there really wasn’t enough of a difference to gripe about anything, and 9.4% actually preferred the way MAPPA handled Eren in this snippet. 

as they did when mikasa calls him out in liberio, they harden his expressionstry to make him look like a heartless monster with no empathy for his friends. this expression hinted that he was hurt by telling all of that to his friends, so his self sacrifice motivations can be misunderstood by anime onlies, or worse: they may even think it comes out of nowhere.

The manga was just superior here, from his expression to the fact that Armin did manage to make him bleed. It was disappointing.

I read this chapter way too long ago, I don't remember this stuff 

He looks a lot more hurt and regretful in the Manga. Anime just looks annoyed.

Not a big deal to me. Manga is definitely superior though.

In the manga Eren was more human, while here we can clearly see his anger towards Armin's words.

THE ANIME ADAPTATION CUT OUT A BIT OF CONTEXT IN REGARDS TO LEVI STATING THAT THEY WILL FEED A YEAGERIST TO HISTORIA AFTER SHE GIVES BIRTH. DO YOU THINK THIS MAKES THINGS CONFUSING FOR THE ANIME-ONLIES? 123 responses

Historia’s pregnancy plot continues to get the shaft (for better or for worse), with the mention of her eventually eating the Yeagerist that eats Zeke being cut out entirely. 39% of respondents felt that this was a poor choice on MAPPA’s part, feeling that it will make things confusing for anime only fans (“why would they feed Zeke to a Yeagerist?”). 26% feel the opposite, and think anime only fans should be able to put 2 and 2 together to realize where Levi was going with his idea. 22% aren’t sure if it actually makes things confusing, and 10.6% just don’t care. 

I'm not sure how confusing this makes it for anime-onlies but them cutting out mentions of her pregnancy makes it seem even less important than it already does.

That plan was shut down so quickly it doesn't matter

I don't/didn't really understand this. None of the Yeagerist have royal blood... maybe I'm missing something. I figured he was just joking? Bc, tactically, what does Historia eating a Yeagerist do or have to do with anything?

HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT THE ADAPTATION OF THE ZEKE RUNNING PANEL? 124 responses

When Zeke ran from Levi in the manga, the scene was memed to death. 46.8% of respondents weren’t disappointed in MAPPA’s adaptation and felt it was just as enjoyable as it was in the manga. 29.8% felt even more strongly, thinking MAPPA did an even better job than Isayama had done. 17.7% still prefer the manga version. 

It was funny in the manga but not in the anime and that's probably for the best given the weight of what's about to happen.

I  honestly don't remember the running panel lmao

Funny monke

HOW WELL WAS ZEKE’S BACKSTORY ADAPTED, IN YOUR OPINION? 126 responses

60.3% felt that MAPPA did an incredible job with executing Zeke’s backstory in the anime, with the impact feeling even greater than it did in the original manga. 37.3% agree to a lesser degree, simply being pleased that it was faithful to the source material and feel thankful enough for that. Only a sliver of the pie felt that MAPPA didn’t deliver well on this or didn’t care. 

Made him too sympathetic/made grisha look even worse

MAPPA REPLACED THE MONKEY PLUSHIE WITH A RAM PLUSHIE IN KSAVER’S VISION. THOUGHTS? 125 responses

We got a couple of Easter Eggs in this episode, with one of them being the inclusion of a ram plushie in place of the monkey doll that was in the manga. Knowing now that Ksaver’s Beast Titan was a ram, we were curious how many of you caught this. 55.2% absolutely loved the easter egg, and 31.2% just felt that it was neat. A few were confused, missed monke, or wanted to squish the adorable plushie. Baa!

I jumped out of my seat seeing that little fecker. I was literally like "...!!!! THE RAM!!! WE KNOW KSAVER'S TITAN NOW SO THEY PUT IN A RAM!! YOU..!!! ISAYAMAAAAA!!" It was hilarious XD

THE DOLLS IN KSAVER’S VISION APPEAR TO RESEMBLE ARMIN, MIKASA AND HISTORIA. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THIS? 121 responses

Aside from the ram plushie were also dolls that some thought seemed to resemble Armin, Mikasa and Historia. We got very mixed responses on this question. 20.7% felt that it was simply just a fun easter egg and didn’t hold any kind of narrative meaning. 19% were unsure what to think at all. 16.5% think the third doll actually represents Ymir Fritz and not Historia. 15.7% felt it was meant to represent the three people Eren is working hardest to protect, and 9.1% didn’t think they represented anything. 

i thought that was ymir fritz, zeke, and either eren or levi

I think the two dolls inside the box look more like Gabi and Falco but I'm not sure who the doll with the pink dress is, Ymir Fritz maybe?

I didn't even notice this, lmao. I'm bored of overthinking things like this, there's one chapter left y'all.

Oh, I thought it was Eren, Zeke and Ymir lol.

Reminds me of the Eren doll in the Lost Girls OVA. 

The box represents those who we will see in the final chapter. Sorry Historia :'(

All of the above xD

The doll isn't Historia - It's Ymir Frtiz - and her position under the wagon means that Eren values Mikasa and Eren more than Ymir/anything else. I think the wagon is also significant to that bit where Eren confessed to the squad that they were the most important people in his life, and that he doesn't want anything bad to happen to them.

EREN TELLS ZEKE, “I’LL PUT AN END TO 2,000 YEARS OF TITAN DOMINATION.” EVEN AFTER EVERYTHING, DO YOU BELIEVE IT’S POSSIBLE THAT THIS WAS HIS TRUE INTENTION, AND THAT HE CAN STILL BE THE ONE TO MAKE IT HAPPEN? 122 responses

Will there be a final twist in the series finale? 34.4% seem to think so, hoping that Eren’s words will ring true and he will somehow abolish titans from the world. 23% feel similarly, though they think he knew his actions would lead to the catalyst to rid titans from the world, rather than him doing it himself. 12.3% feel the opposite, and think Eren was simply just lying to Zeke about bringing an end to the titan power, and 9.8% think he’s just too dead at this point to accomplish anything. 19.7% aren’t sure what to predict. 

Yes, ending the era of titans and setting Eldians free is one of Eren's goals.

GIVEN THAT ZEKE’S FLASHBACK ELEMENTS FROM 115 WERE ALSO ADAPTED IN THIS CHAPTER, DO YOU THINK THE FINAL EPISODE WILL HAVE ANY ANIME-ONLY SCENES? 124 responses

The episode has already aired and we can now confirm that there were no additional scenes. 41.9% were correct in their hunch that the remaining contents would be enough to fill an entire episode - in fact, they didn't even end up animating all of it! What about Levi and Hange?!

Since we won't reach Ch. 121 or 122 I don't really care. 

Since Mappa took over, not anymore :(

What tou MEAN ”the final episode”?!

HOW DO YOU FEEL KNOWING THAT ANIME ONLY FANS WON’T HAVE A SOLID ANSWER ON LEVI’S FATE FOR MONTHS? 127 responses

We didn’t expect this question to come off as cruel as it now feels after MAPPA didn’t even throw us a bone in episode 75 about Levi’s fate. That being said, 29.1% are ready to snack on their popcorn while they watch anime onlies worry and theorize over Levi’s fate. 21.3% are simply feeling mischievous. 9.4% think it’s cruel to take any delight in anime watchers’ woes, as we also had to experience the same thing for several months. 33.9% think it will be next to impossible for anime only fans to avoid being spoiled about Levi’s fate. 

It should be fairly obvious he's alive when they show Hange jumping in the river with him next episode.

Good. I think most of them will assume he's not dead yet though.

Maybe it will inspire some of them to read the manga to find out.

Ugh, I hope they won't be complaining as much as the manga readers did even though it was obvious he's not dead.

THE PREVIEW ONLY REVEALED ONE SCENE TO US. SO INSTEAD, WHICH MOMENT FROM CHAPTER 115/116 ARE YOU MOST ANTICIPATING? 126 responses

31% of respondents were most looking forward to the moment where Pieck declared Eren as the enemy. 23% had most anticipated seeing Ymir revive Zeke (rip) and 19.8% were most looking forward to seeing Hange dive into the river with Levi’s injured body (double rip). 10.3% were most anticipating the scene with Eren, Pieck and Gabi in the jail room, and 7.1% were most hyped about Marley’s airships showing up onto the scene.

WE’VE ONLY GOT ONE EPISODE LEFT FOR THIS RUN! HOW ARE YOU FEELING ABOUT IT? 125 responses

59.2% were feeling hyped to get an announcement about a part 2 of the season. 24%, on the other hand, are bummed out and have a new void to fill in their heart while they wait. 11.2% feel similarly and on a greater level… the seasons between the SnK anime seasons are just the worst anime seasons of all!

Too distracted by manga-ending-anxiety to feel much about it

Disappointed. It's not actually the final season.

I'm ready for this season of heartbreak to be over thank you just put me out of my misery and stop dragging me along behind the car

I can't believe it's near ending already

DO YOU THINK WE WILL GET AN ANNOUNCEMENT ABOUT THE NEXT ANIME INSTALLMENT NEXT WEEK? 122 responses

54.1% of respondents were hopeful for a part 2 announcement and the good news is that MAPPA didn’t let them down. 19.7% were right on the nose with this one!

ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE EPISODES?

GOAT

The scene with Levi's comrades turning into Titans was one of the most visually stunning moments for me; the whole panning out throughout as they all started turning sort of gave me chills. Levi's reaction to it all, and ultimately having to kill them too was heartbreaking. Honestly that entire scene was quite gripping. I hate to admit that watching it in anime form has sort of solidified me resonating with Zeke in regards to his relationship with Grisha. Dude just wanted to spend time with his freaking dad and instead went through all of that, I don't blame him for the resentment at all. Still a douche for some of the stuff he's done. And ersonally I prefer him over Eren. Eren never went through that kind of treatment from Grisha and ended up... like that. Also!!!!!! Love me some Bertholdt crumbs, thank you Mappa! God, I miss him. :(

The removal of mostly anything mentioning titan scientists/research and Ackermans being a byproduct of titan science makes me wonder if Isayama regretted introducing that. I was already disappointed the manga didn't expand on that and the anime made it worse. Almost nonexistent tbh. Loved seeing Zeke's backstory, like all the other children in this series, he deserved better.

The ost during Floch's speech was brilliant. Young Zeke and Grisha VAs also. Makes me want to adopt Zeke right there. Not sure if Pieck and Porco already appeared as background characters (in ep 13&14) there were some figures that looked like them so I can't wait for the next episode! 

Nah, I just loved them 

These were one of the best of the season!

i just want more, also i loved MAPPA's style so far

In those episodes, the emotions weren't as strong as in the manga. I didn't feel much. And for the EMA talk... well, I liked Eren's neutral expression in the manga better, it was more fitted. And the animation of his "fight" with Armin was absolutely terrible, and it's sad to say that when you know that Mappa can do so much better.

*points at Zeke* WITNESSED!! 

MAPPA stans Armin, it shows, and I am 100% here for it. 

Being aware if latest chapters, I see young Zeke with different eyes

Mappa has done a fabulous job so far. The only thing I hoped for is that they should not have made the face difference so obvious from previous seasons to the last one, for the benefit of anime-only people. Yes, they stayed true to the manga, but their animators had to have control over it, which is what happened in S1 where girls had some sort of gloss on their lips and Yams requested for them to be removed in succeeding episodes.. that tells me that the animators/mappa have some semblance of control over how the characters look 

I think MAPPA is doing a good job with the episodes.

Feels. That is all.

I really loved how Mappa executed that scene wint Ksaver's wife's murder/suicide. In the manga, they just outright depict it happening in the room. In the anime, they blended it in with the present surroundings. It literally gave me the chills. I do worry that the missing dialogue from the EMA scene, especially Eren explaining how Mikasa's dedication to him is nothing but science. I also worry about him not mentioning the slave/freedom thing, bc afaik the dialogue in the leaked panel of 139 says ""you are free"", and I always thought it was gonna be related to that. 

WHERE DO YOU PRIMARILY DISCUSS THE SERIES? 118 responses

Thanks again to everyone who participated! We will post the poll for episode 75 soon!

In the meantime, please feel free to send us up to 5 of your favorite characters via ask or submission for our ongoing popularity poll - that poll will close on the 10th of April! :D

#snk poll #snk polls #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk #aot #snk spoilers #snk s4

[tbhwhocaresanymore]

Nancy Drew 2x5

It’s official everybody: love conquers all

Okay WOW I cannot believe this was the original Nancy Drew season finale and that I had to wait an additional eleven months to see this episode I am suing the coronavirus for emotional distress. Because let me tell you this was one of the best season finales I have seen in a WHILE. And once again the writers have swaddled me in a safety blank and assuaged all of my concerns. I was a little worried when they made Odette a wlw because then that meant a lesbian was hunting down the good guys and would have to be killed, but MORE THE FOOL WAS I. I should have learned by now not to doubt the Nancy Drew writers.

Every single plot thread was wrapped up and a whole host of new ones were set up and I cannot wait to dive into all of them.

First off I would like to say that everything about the scenes with the Aglaeca coming to kill them was perfection. The five-way phone call, the deathbed confessions, the soft French singing and ominous chain rattling. And then when she APPEARED on the hood of the car like Dead Lucy appeared to Nancy on top of her car to tell her to summon the Aglaeca aaaah parallels and Nick and George held each other. “oh where is she, where is she” SHE’S RIGHT BEHIND YOU! The fire leaping out at Bess, the meat hook cutting Ace, Nancy falling from the bluffs. And then the crew reconnects back at the Claw thinking all is well but OH NO WHAT’S THIS ANOTHER PORTENT.

Hey how is it the entire gang seems to have forgotten that they willingly volunteered for this whole Aglaeca mess. Like I get it, your lives are on the line, you’re scared, but Nancy was all “no I cannot let you guys summon the Aglaeca with me it’s far too dangerous absolutely not” and they were all “psh danger fuck danger we have the power of friendship” and went right on ahead. And now that they have to face actual consequences they’re all “Nancy I cannot believe you put a gun to our heads and forced us into this how dare you” like GUYS. But yeah that scene caused me pain, with them all yelling at each other. I do think it’s interesting that proverbial lines in the sand have been drawn. Generally speaking whenever there are massive disagreements I’ll be watching to see if it stays as George and Nick v Bess and Ace with Nancy as the sort of swing vote.

Also because I am a Drewson shipper until I die it was satisfying to see that Nick, despite being in love with George, still has unresolved feelings about what went down with him and Nancy. We love unresolved feelings, and once Nancy learns how to communicate and be more open they will find their way back to each other and be even more in love.

The writers continue their never ending tally of taking seemingly unimportant moments from past episodes and making them SO IMPORTANT. NANCY HAVING THE PORTENT IN RYAN’S CAR??? *SCREEEEAAAAAAMS* And then speaking of the car. Oh my god you guys. Ryan and Carson the dad duo was peak comedy. I was legit dying. On the topic of parental figures

Hannah Gruen: Nancy no!

Nancy Drew: Nancy yes!

BABE. SHE LITERALLY TOLD YOU NOT TO OPEN THE DEATH BOXES AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN WAIT LIKE SIX HOURS BEFORE BLATANTLY DISOBEYING.

I know some people who watched the episode are probably going to be like “are you kidding me they beat the angry sea spirit with the power of love? Ugh pathetic” but no actually you’re wrong and it was BEAUTIFUL. Not just the concept but the execution. The lights going out one by one, the Aglaeca popping up and screaming, throwing them across the room one at a time, the words having to come from the heart, Nick speaking French he can speak French to me all day long, the Aglaeca melting and Odette rising once more. BRUH.

And then of course the blood bucket curse came to fruition and George fucking died and I was losing my mind only for Nancy to fucking revive her because THAT won't have consequences. And George talking about her sisters was so sweet I thought it might give me a cavity, and her with them in the morning. Quick question though. We know Victoria is around because she gave them the inhuman sea spirit banishing ritual like five days ago, soooo where is she now? Like George is about to die and she hardly gives her mom a spare thought aside from making sure Jessie will be able to take care of their sisters. Nancy had a fucking beautiful moment of reconciliation with Carson, couldn’t George have at least exchanged some kind words with her own mother?

Moving ahead we have sooo many plot lines to talk about I can’t wait.

The Bobbsey twins are coming back. Don’t know how I feel about that yet.

We have Ace with the sibling in Witsec. Now I know like the entire fandom wants Ace to be a Hardy brother, but here’s the thing. Ace has apparently never met this person and his dad doesn’t have any of that tortured ‘I’m-missing-my-child’ vibe going on, so I’m thinking maybe it’s Ace’s half-sibling. Like he’s half a Hardy. Cause also why would just the one kid go into Witsec and not the whole family? Maybe his mom had a baby as a teenager and gave them up for adoption, maybe his dad had an affair and didn’t realize it ended up as a pregnancy. Who’s to say???

We have Nick and Ryan (and possibly Nancy) taking down the Hudson empire. Nick is going to commit to honoring Tiffany’s dying wish and with Ryan as his man on the inside, he can hopefully actually do it. Nancy will probably also have a role in this storyline, because as evidenced by Ryan taking the flash drive she’s going to be the driving force behind Ryan listening to his conscience. And then of course we will have Nancy’s whole my-DNA-is-evil struggle, and her wanting to prove she’s not a bad person. Separate from the Hudsons (potentially) Nancy will also be working for her father this season as he regrows his law practice, and it will be so nice to see them finally have a good relationship again.

We have The Possession of George 2: Electric Boogaloo. This possession, if that’s even what it is, is very clearly different from the last one with Tiffany. George is still in control, and she’s not switching back and forth between herself and Tiffany like last time, she just has some new personality traits or whatever. The next episode summary includes Nick being concerned about George’s behavior, so I’m guessing some of the changes will be pretty obvious. But it probably isn’t something that’ll be fixed right away it’ll take a while. And I also don’t think Odette possessed her on purpose? Like she had given up the Aglaeca and seemed ready to move on, and then we see her in the mirror. Maybe there’s something she has to do regarding her girlfriend, like she has to find the Englishwoman’s ghost? Because the public story is Odette got married on the ship and died, what if her lady love thinks Odette forsook her or something and Odette wants to make it right? Last but not least I have said it before I’m saying it again I want George to develop psychic powers like her mother. Come on writers she’s not even cousins with Bess at least give me this.

Bess is going to try and stop stealing and some other stuff I’m sure and maybe learn about Marvin family skeletons and hopefully start dating Amaya??? Pleeeease???

We still have no idea what Det. Tamura’s purpose here is and I for one continue to want McGinnis back.

And then of course we have like fifty million horrors that Nancy just unwittingly unleashed on the previously sleepy town of Horseshoe Bay, and I absolutely cannot wait to see where that goes.

Hmm yeah that seems just about everything, except for I feel like there’s something I’m missing, something I'm forgetting, something important that’s slipped my mind. Oh, that’s right.

WRITERS.

WHERE THE FUCK IS LUCY SABLE.

#Nancy Drew cw #Nancy Drew #George Fan #Bess Marvin #Ned Nick Nickerson #Ned Nickerson #Ace #Carson Drew #Ryan Hudson #the Aglaeca #Dead Lucy #Lucy Sable #writers where is dead lucy #give me my daughter #and also Victoria #the drowned woman

[honeysucklepink]

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My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Alex McDaniel July 21, 2021 10:55 am ET

There’s more than one moment in the fourth episode of Ted Lasso when I fall to pieces inside (and sometimes outside) no matter how many times I watch it.

It’s the night of AFC Richmond’s annual charity auction and the team’s owner, Rebecca Welton (played by the incomparable Hannah Waddingham), is running the show alone for the first time following a painfully public split from her ex-husband, Rupert. We already know Rebecca’s broader motivations at this point: She’s dead-set on burning her ex’s beloved football club to the ground after years of Rupert’s infidelity and the public humiliation that followed. What we don’t know is just how traumatizing her marriage really was or how it shaped Rebecca into someone fiercely determined to get revenge, regardless of how many innocent people she has to hurt to get it.

Rebecca is clearly at her breaking point by the time the auction begins. After  finalizing preparations and wrestling with herself over whether a stunning black gown is something she can still “pull off”, she finds out the gala’s musical guest, Robbie Williams, has canceled at the last minute. To make matters worse, Rupert (Anthony Head) shows up at the gala — because of course he does — though he had RSVP’d “no” — because of course he did.

We already knew Rupert was a lying, cheating liar, but it isn’t until a subtle comment to Rebecca that we start to realize the extent of the damage she’s recovering from in the aftermath of their marriage.

“Not too much champagne now, dear,” he tells her after she sips from her glass. “You’ve got to stay sharp for the auction.” It’s in this uncomfortable scene with Rebecca, Rupert and Ted (Jason Sudeikis) that we see her transform from a confident, commanding team owner to someone who suddenly can’t trust herself. She tells Rupert he should run the auction instead of her —”We both know they’d rather see you,” she says with no argument from him — and immediately leaves to collect herself.

There are many ways to emotionally abuse a person. Some do it with swift, painful blows to their target’s confidence. Some carefully gaslight their way into a position of dominance by reinforcing self-doubt at every opportunity. And some, like Rupert, do it with a dull knife, relying on years of tiny cuts of cruelty to slowly injure the other person until they no longer recognize who they are or how they’ve been so brutally wounded.

“That man, he knows me. I used to think his blunt honesty was noble rather than what it really is, which is just the cruelest way of hiding his own insecurities. He’d say wear this, eat that. And I listened. But now I’m alone. I’m alone, Ted. Just like he said I would be if I left. I don’t want to be alone.”

And that’s when I break. Every. Damn. Time. Because Ted Lasso, in all its beauty and award-winning brilliance, isn’t always an easy watch if you’ve been abused by a partner and left to clean up their mess. While I, like so many others, fell in love with this show for all of its warmth and goodness, I can’t ignore how drawn I was to Rebecca’s character because so many of us have lived through her experience, and more importantly, lived to tell about it.

That’s why I wasn’t surprised when Waddingham recently said she drew on her own experiences in a past abusive relationship when performing the role. For those of us who’ve endured abuse only to further damage ourselves by seeking vengeance over healing, Rebecca represents the complex ugliness of recovery, how hurt people can hurt people in pursuit of peace.

For as much as this show does to deliver a model of kindness, optimism and forgiveness, it’s also explores human relationships in a way that shows you don’t need a clear-cut hero and villain to tell a compelling story about people — particularly a character like Rebecca who spends most of the first season driven by revenge. It’s why she hires Ted in the first place, despite his complete lack of experience. It’s why she’s initially able to resist his disarming personality and growing connection with the team despite their poor performance on the pitch.

It’s only late in the season, when Rupert cruelly shows up unannounced to tell her he and his new partner are expecting a child, that she realizes she’s never going to win at a game that requires hurting people, even if Rupert deserves to be on the receiving end of what he did to her.

Rebecca ultimately shows us there’s nothing pretty about processing relationship trauma and public humiliation — no magic scoreboard that can erase years of abuse if you have the upper hand. Even if she managed to destroy AFC Richmond, the thing Rupert (allegedly) loves most, it wouldn’t change what he did to her during their marriage or the damage he caused. And it certainly won’t absolve her of the responsibility to make amends with those she hurt when she was married or the people she’s hurting now by deliberately sabotaging a community’s beloved football club.

The catch is you can’t fully heal that kind of abuse without exhibiting the same vulnerability that led to being hurt in the first place, and that’s what we see when she finally comes clean to Ted about her intentions and gives him the freedom to destroy her reputation as a result. It requires more strength to do that than to act out of anger and spite. Anyone can pursue revenge. Not everyone can choose to surrender and start over.

That’s the pain and promise of Ted Lasso, a show buoyed by the power of personal connection. If Ted is intended to show us our highest potential as human beings, Rebecca shows us what happens when we’re so afraid of not deserving that connection that we’ll do anything to save face. She wanted so badly for her ex-husband to shoulder the burden of her own suffering. And it took being loved by good people to make her realize payback was only stealing her peace.

The beauty of Rebecca’s character lies in the complexity of who we can become as a result of being hurt, for better or worse. In a world where most of us out here are scared to death of being seen for who we are, Ted Lasso is a show that simply won’t let us avoid the pain of the human experience.

Instead, it shows us why that pain is necessary, why it matters, and why we don’t have to endure it alone.

49 notes • Posted 2021-07-21 17:14:53 GMT

#4

Top 10 Unscripted Glee Moments That Were Kept in the Show

I was actually surprised at a few of these!

50 notes • Posted 2021-09-05 02:13:29 GMT

#3

When you find out just HOW FUCKING STUPID the Facebook Outage of Oct 2021 was:

https://twitter.com/alexhern/status/1445130867073032195

[Image: a series of Tweets from @alexhern Text: a bunch of friends have texted me asking for a basic explanation as to what the hell happened to knock off all of Facebook so: Facebook (accidentally, we assume) sent an update to a deep-level routing protocol on the internet that said, basically, "hey we don't have any servers any more xoxo" Normally, this would be quite easy to fix. you just send another update saying "oh, don't worry, we have servers, they're here, xoxo". Things still break, it takes a while for the message to spread to all corners of the internet, egg on face, but liveable but Facebook runs EVERYTHING through Facebook So when its servers were booted off the internet, it also booted off… the ability to send that follow-up message and the ability to log-in to the system that would send the follow-up message and the ability to use the smartcard door lock on the front door to the building that contains the servers that control the system that sends the follow-up message and the messaging service you use to contact the head of physical security to tell them they need to high-tail it to the data centre out east with a physical key to override the smartcard door lock on the front door…]

107 notes • Posted 2021-10-05 00:18:50 GMT

#2

To Stephen Sondheim's memory:

(Original post had several more Glee-Sondheim moments)

211 notes • Posted 2021-11-27 00:45:11 GMT

#1

That second paragraph led to a wonderful meme:

Search “Wanting to be a good dad” on Twitter and enjoy.

562 notes • Posted 2021-02-19 00:51:38 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#notes #my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #long post #I had to cut out some of the Sondheim vids and Cruz memes #But click and you can see the unedited originals #also I can't seem to do a read more #which sucks

[kyber-kisses]

Pour Me A Drink

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: mentions of character death, cursing, spoilers for 14.10, blood, slight canon divergence. (Like very, very slight), no happy ending here folks ye be warned

Summary: When Michael takes over Dean once more, he gives him his own little slab of paradise deep inside his head. . . Not that Dean knows that of course.

A/N: can you guess which episode I was watching earlier? This game to my mind while watching and I couldn’t help but write more angst.😬

Content.

If Dean had to choose one word for how he felt right now that would be the one. Content. And more than he had been in a very long time, he might add.

Outside the rain was coming down in sheets, an unpredictable spring thunderstorm having decided to roll into Lebanon earlier in the evening. The radio on the end of the bar was turned down slightly, playing some tune by the Eagles that Dean couldn’t quiet name at the moment.

Slicing through yet another lime, he looked up, a gentle smile crossing his face as he watched you. Apart from the two of you the bar was empty, and if he was being honest he liked it somewhat better that way. Any quality time spent with you was heaven sent.

You currently sat crisscross on the bar top, too occupied with shuffling the deck of cards in your hands to notice Dean smiling at you. You hummed lightly to the tune on the radio, every once and while pausing to take a sip of the drink he had made you.

God, you were so beautiful. Every time he looked at you he found it harder to pull his eyes away each time. The way your lips curled in contentment as you shuffled the cards, the way your hair curled around your ears only to fall back in front of your eyes when you attempted to tuck them back. How your eyebrows knitted together whenever you were deep in thought.

“Crazy how you are effortlessly cute.” He echoed suddenly, dropping the cut up slices of lime into a bowl before wiping his hands on the towel slung over his shoulder.

“Crazy how you’re effortlessly annoying, but thank you, you’re not too bad yourself.” Not looking up from your cards, you grinned, fanning out the deck in your palms.

“What are you doing now?”

Extending your palms, you finally looked up at him, your gaze making him suck in a breath. “Pick a card.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah, now come on. Don’t leave me hanging Cowboy.”

With a roll of his eyes, the hunter made his way down the bar to where you were, pausing for a second in front of you before yanking a card from the deck.

“Alright, now memorize it-“ you nodded. “And now put it back in.”

Letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding, he slid the card back into your hands, watching as you shuffled the cards again.

“Alright, now what? You gonna guess my card?”

“Hold your horses.” You laughed, letting out a puff of air to get a loose piece of hair out of your eyes. Fanning out the deck again you held them out for him to see. “Do you see your card in here?”

“Mmmm no.”

“Well then, I guess I’m just gonna have to reach behind your ear and produce this-“ as you did, you pulled out the card, the piece pinched between your middle and pointer fingers, a proud smile on your face.

So damn beautiful.

He let out a low whistle, taking his card from your hand. “Impressive. But I’m not gonna lie, when you said you had magic hands, I was kind thinking of something different.”

Dean watched as you pursed your lips, doing that little thing in which you tried to suppress your smile. “You flirtin with me, Dean Winchester?

“So what if I was?” His own smile growing as he leaned in closer, folding his arms over your crossed knees as he looked up at you.

Dropping the deck onto the counter you currently sat on, you slowly leaned down towards him, his breath lightly fanning over your lips. “Well, I would say. . . You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that.” Pressing an index finger to his lips you slowly sat back up, watching his face fall in defeat.

“Okay, okay-“ raising his hands, Dean stood back upright, moving back to his tasks. Taking your now empty glass, the older Winchester placed it in the sink. “Alright, here I got one.”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another one of your bad pick up lines.”

“Oh come on, you know you love them.”

Rolling your eyes, you gave in. “Alright fine. Hit me.”

Dean smiled again, a side affect that came with just looking at you. “Are you oxygen, because you keep me alive.” Throwing a set of finger guns at you, his smile only grew when you grimaced.

“. . . I think that might be the worst one yet. You are a total dork.”

“Yeah, but I’m your dork.” He winked, waving his wedding band at you.

Letting out a light huff, you slid front he counter, shoving the cards back into the box. “I’m gonna go put these away. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Before he could say anything else you were already crossing the room and going down the hallway towards his office, his jade eyes watching you with a fondness as you disappeared.

“Dean?”

The hunter spun on the spot, suddenly finding his brother and best friend standing across the bar. “Hey! There they are!” Dean exclaimed, picking up the the bar rag on the counter. “Kill a goul, get a beer.”

“Dean?” Sam repeated, confused as to what was playing out in front of him.

“Got this great IPA from Austin—the cosmic cowboy.” Already filling up a glass, Dean placed it on the counter, turning to glance over his shoulder to see if you had come back yet. “You’re gonna love it.”

The younger Winchester and angel stood frozen, neither making a move forward as their eyes stayed wide and confused. The bar, the drinks. . . None of it made sense.

“Hey Dean, what’s going on here?”

“What are you talking about?” Oblivious to his brothers concern, Dean looked up from the glass he was cleaning.

“Sam? Cas? Didn’t realize you guys had gotten back yet. I’m glad you guys got home safe.”

Raising an eyebrow to the confused and bewildered looks on both of their face, you made you way across the bar floor.

“I was starting to worry.” You smiled, “but don’t tell Dean. He’ll somehow use it against me.” You whispered, taking a second to look over your shoulder at the hunter behind the bar, setting glasses back in their proper spaces.

Sam was stunned into silence though, looking down at you with wide and confused eyes. It had been so long since he last seen you, since any of them had. It had been years. Surprised wasn’t a good enough word for what he and Cas were feeling as they looked at you. Maybe they should have seen this coming. . .

Giving them both a pat on the shoulder you turned back around, moving to go help Dean with whatever he was doing.

Cas turned to Sam, talking low to make sure neither of you heard. “How is she here? Y/Ns been-“

“Yeah, Cas. I know. But remember, this is all in his head. It’s not really her.”

“Hey, what are you guys waiting for?” Dean spoke up, pulling both of their attention towards the bar once more as he smacked the surface. “Drink up.”

Sams mouth opened and closed as he tried to find words. They had to get Dean out of here. Michael was still in control and they had no idea when he would show up. “None- none of this real, alright?” Sam breathed, taking a step towards the counter. “T-this, this bar, Y/N-“

“Excuse me?” You and Dean spoke in unison as you looked up from the glass in your hand, you raised an eyebrow, slightly leaning back. “You’ve never met anyone more real than me, Sam Winchester.”

“You’re just a complex manifestation of Deans memories.” Cas explained, locking eyes with you. “Designed to distract him.”

“Hey! Don’t be rude.” Dean butted in, stepping closer to you as he did. “Don’t talk about her like that.”

Putting a hand on his chest to stop him, you shook your head. That was the moment the two caught sight of the band on your finger, and Sam drew a shaky breath. No wonder Dean was in so deep he couldn’t realize what was going on. In this little fantasy you were still alive. . . And he was married to you. Ripping off this band-aid was gonna be painful for all of them, Dean most of all.

“Dean, you gotta remember what’s- what’s going on out there in the real world.”

Dean leaned forward to look around you. “I know it’s raining. What else do I need to know?”

“What? No. I’m not talking about the rain. I’m talking about Michael!”

That when there was a sudden shift and you were suddenly seated on one of the bar stools, Dean pouring you a shot. A second ago you were on the other side of the bar and now it looked like someone had suddenly hit fast foreword.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?!”

Bracing his hands on the bar top, Dean sighed. “Alright, now you’re starting to worry me. What is going on?”

There was another shift and all of a sudden Sam watched as his brother leapt over the bar, machete in hand as the two of you severed several vampire heads, sending a spray of blood across the both of them-

And then you were back behind the bar, the two of you cleaning more glasses like nothing had even happened.

“You guys got real messy on that goul hunt, huh?” You questioned, setting down a glass as Dean reached around you for something, pressing a kiss to your cheek as he went.

“No, we didn’t get messy on a hunt.” Cas breathed, now starting to get slightly irritated. “We got messy just now, in this bar, in a vampire fight.”

You and Dean shared another confused look. “Did they- did they smoke something?”

“Maybe-“

“We should probably rethink the beers.”

“Probably.” Dean nodded, grabbing back the glasses he had previously filled.

Rip the band-aid off, just do it Sam.

“Dean, listen to me-“ the younger Winchester stepped forward, hating that he had to pull this happy and care free version of his brother back into the harsh reality that was their lives. He was gonna have to pull him away from you. “I think- I think you’re stuck in some sort of loop, like inside your mind. Michael is possessing you!”

“Michael?” You raised an eyebrow, looking up at the jade eyed hunter besides you. “Like Michael, Michael?”

“Michael’s in the cage.” Dean explained, unable to register what insanity his brother and best friend were going on about. “C’mon guys, what is this, some kind of joke?”

“No, Dean. It’s not a joke.”

“Okay, okay-“ butting in one an attempt to ease the tension, you locked eyes with Sam. “If we’re all in Deans head, he should be able to control things like a lucid dream, right?”

“Yeah. I-I don’t know, maybe.”

“Okay.” Slapping Deans arm to get his attention he turned to you. “Pour me a shot. . . With your brain.”

Deans eyes lit up like before, the crows feet of his eyes crinkling as he laughed with you. The action making both Cas and Sam wince. This was already difficult enough.

“Okay, Dean. Listen to me. This bar, it’s not real.” he swallowed. “Y/N, she’s not real. We were there when she was attacked-“

Deans eyebrows drew together in sudden concern. “When she was what?”

Sam sucked in a breath. Just rip it off. “Dean, she’s dead.”

The words hit Dean with the force of a damn bullet, his eyebrows once again drawing together as he looked at Sam, a new glint of fear now resting in his irises.

“No- no that's not right.” He shook his head before turning, cupping your face in his hands and kissing you on the mouth, feeling you smile against his lips. “See? Right here and alive.” He needed to convince these two you were alive, could they not see you breathing?

“She died almost five years ago. She died helping us.”

Once again, Dean drew his eyebrows together, this time irises filling with fear. If this was some sort of joke, it was sick. Really, really sick. . . But then a second later images snapped through his brain like a child gone crazy with a view master. He wasn't sure what triggered it, but it slammed into him.

Bloody wallpaper.

Torn carpet.

Shattered glass.

Broken furniture.

A limp body in the center of it all.

Shaking his head in an attempt to fling the images away, he sucked in a breath. It was a joke. Just a sick joke. “No. No, no,no,no. Guys, c’mon. This- this is my life. This is the dream!”

“No, Dean. It’s just a dream. Nothing else.” Cas explained, “but you need to wake up, the people in your life, your real life- they need you. We all do.”

The hunter was silent for a moment more, giving himself a moment to actually believe what they were saying. “But- if the real world doesn’t have Y/N, why would I want to go back?”

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Sam racked his brain. He had to get Dean out of here- even if it meant hurting him.

“Poughkeepsie.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, taken back by the word. “What did you say?”

“Poughkeepsie.” Sam repeated.

And just like that, it all came back. One big tidal wave of memories that had Dean feeling sick to his stomach, eyes burning with unshed tears. He remembered it all, every twisted and terrible thing that had ever happened to him. . . Including finding your lifeless form on the floor of that motel room.

It was all there.

And he hated it.

That’s when the sudden slow clapping pulled all three head to look towards the door to the bar, Michael standing there stoically, you suddenly by his side, but acting as if nothing was off, like he was just some friend who had stopped by for a drink.

“Hey fellas.”

Deans jaw clenched as he took a step closer. Even if you weren’t real, he wanted that thing as far away from you as possible.

“Well, this is fun.”

“Get out of my head.”

“Oh, Dean, now watch your tone.”.

Dean shook his head, taking another menacing step closer. “Oh I don't think so, you see- I don't want you here. Get. Out.”

Michael's eyes widened in mock surprise before he leaned forward slightly. “You want me to leave?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Well you see, I cant do that. Not yet.-“ raising a hand, the archangel snapped his fingers. At first nothing happened, but then you began to sway on your feet and Dean turned all his attention back towards you, a crimson bloom spreading out across your tank top.

And then you dropped.

Everything in him was reminding him it wasn’t real, that this you was just an illusion made by Micheal to get him to comply. but it didn’t stop him from lunging towards your body as you collapsed, a dark pool of blood crawling across the floor.

“No, no,no- Y/N.”

De-an.”

Michael took a delicate step back from the blood, eying Dean with an amused smirk as he watched him try to gather you up in his arms, your dead weight making it difficult.

“Michael, stop it!”

“Stop what? There’s nothing to stop. Like dear old Sammy said, She’s been dead for years, Dean.”

You were already growing cold in his arms, his bloody hand gripping at yours like if he squeezed hard enough he could will you back to life. But nothing happened.

Michael was right. You were gone. And you had been for a long time now. He just didn’t like picturing it or being reminded.

“Why are you doing this?!”

“Oh, but I thought it was oblivious? I want to break you.”

That’s when the archangel snapped once again, and the world went dark, and Dean was reminded of his loss all over again..

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti @callmekda​ @jordangdelacruz​ @orphiceseum​ @andthatsmyworld​ @marvelfangirllll​ @fandomnerdespressourself​ @gladiosamicitias @castielsangelsx​ @lxstgxrl-ck​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​  @totallyluciferr​ @supernaturalenchanted​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​ @xoxoaudreymarie​ @greenarrowhead​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​ @brebolin​ @biahblue​ @noahandthegiraffe​ @hhiggs​ @mila-dans​ @mrsmaybankhere​ @malindacath​  @littleagxs​ @deanwanddamons​ @idksupernatural​​ @ivyyie​ @moony-and-spring​ @iidontgiveafuckuniverse​ @herfalsegod​

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester angst #SPN #spn x reader #bi-danvers writing

[dercolaris]

The Joke

Fandom: Batman (BTAS)

Characters: Poison Ivy, Harley Quinn

Relationship: Poison Ivy & Harley Quinn (Friendship)

Genre: Hurt and Comfort, Friendship

Word length: 1832

Warnings: Abuse, light gore

Status: Complete

Short summary: Follow-Up story to the BTAS episode Mad Love. Ivy picks Harley up after her fall and take the poor girl home.

Song: https://youtu.be/7tQg06_M1w8

“And again Joker spreads fear and chaos in Gotham with his radical actions against society. How much damage was done on the weekend is still unknown, but estimates put it in the millions. The population of our beloved city wonders: Where was Batman? Why didn't he prevent this crime? The Dark Knight wa...”At the mention of the Superhero, Ivy quickly turned off the car radio. She snorted contemptuously, tapped the steering wheel impatiently. The Botanist looked up to the old building and chewed her lips nervously. Her friend should have come out of the sawmill a long time ago. Ivy was desperately looking for her smartphone, when a loud noise burst the deceptive silence around her. The Bioterrorist flinched a bit and looked back to the sawmill. As if in slow motion, the red-haired woman saw a body fall down from the top floor. It hit the cold concrete, then lay almost motionless on the side walk. Ivy cursed under her breath and rushed out of the car, hurried to her friend. Harley had closed her eyes, but was whimpering in probably huge waves of pain. After such a fall, the Botanist would at least have expected a deep faint for some minutes. The horrible make-up on the beautiful face on the ground slowly ran down the reddened cheeks, tainted the costume that she liked to wear for her Puddin. A tasteless piece of cloth. Created by a sexist man for submissive woman. The red-haired villain shook her head slightly while examining the Harlequin for worse injuries. Much of the left side was at least badly bruised, if not broken into pieces. The older woman's lips formed a thin line as she applied her special anti-pain pheromones to the young girl. With that, Harleen would at least arrive at her apartment relatively painlessly. Hopefully. Ivy gently stroked the dirty blond hair and mumbled softly: "At some point you will not survive all the abuse, Harl." The addressed grunted something, but a gush of blood out of her mouth made her answer incomprehensible. She slowly sat up, coughed out more red liquid. Harley held her arching head and replied with a dry throat: "I didn't get the joke right this time. I'm so stupid sometimes."

These words made the blood boil in the Botanist's veins. Nevertheless, she propped her friend up in a wobbly, upright gait. Luckily, not all bones seemed to be smashed into dust. Ivy placed the Clown carefully in the passenger seat and secured her with some vines. The Harlequin immediately dropped into the soft cushions, closing her tired-looking blue eyes again. Ivy got back in the driver's seat and drove into the night with screeching tires. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, the older woman spoke worriedly: “Just because you don't understand a joke – which is always the case with your boyfriend in my opinion – doesn't mean that he is allowed to treat you that way. I can't always be on call if something goes wrong again and you have to be rescued.” “I don't need to be rescued, Red!”, snapped the younger one with tears in her eyes, “I'm fine with Puddin. He can also be completely different. Actually, he's a gentleman and a super sweet sweetheart.” The Bioterrorist had to suppress a sarcastic laugh. Fortunately, the streets were empty at this time. Otherwise they would probably have been stopped by the police long ago. Ivy shifted into higher gear and replied dryly: “Shall we count how many times I've patched you up this year? Or just think of all the visits to Jervis and Jonathan. Harley, now at least listen to me for once in your life, girl. This psychopath will kill you sooner or later if you are of no use to him any more. You can already see how he treats you and simply accepts all damages on your body. I don't want to start with the wounds on your soul. This is not love, no; what you really have is a perfidious game between your crazy, totally out of control obsession with him and his impulsive actions.” The Botanist bit her lower lip slightly. She almost got the word abuse out of her mouth. Hearing the truth has always been a painful experience for the sensitive Harlequin. In these rare moments of clarity, even more tears ran from her eyes, now completely blurring the white make-up. Her lips trembled when she whispered softly: “He can be different. Really. I'm honest this time. I swear, Red.” The person addressed stepped suddenly on the break, brought the car to stop with a strong jerk. She turned to the broken girl, just looked at her in pure disbelief for a moment.

Only then did the older woman answered angrily: “God, Harl, are you serious? When is he caring for once? Even when you were in bed with a fever of over forty degrees, he didn't give a damn about you. You would have died if Jonathan hadn't happened to be there. And do you still remember the last fall from the roof of the Wayne Tower? If Batman hadn't collected you on the way down, you wouldn't be here any more. You have to look at it soberly. We are all concerned about you and only want your best. Do you know that even Oswald is already making plans to free you from the clutches of Joker?” Harley looked carefully into the otherwise sharp green eyes of her best friend. In her opals, however, there was only worry, no anger or hatred. The Botanist finally turned her attention back to the street. She came to a stop in front of her new or better first hiding place in Gotham. They both got out, with Harley leaning weakly on the side of the car. Ivy hurried with the grey tarpaulin, making the vehicle almost invisible to outsiders. The red-haired woman stepped to her friend's side and helped her up the many steps into the small apartment. There she locked all the locks behind her, then heaved the blonde onto the comfortable sofa in the living room. The Harlequin literally fell on the soft pillows and groaned loudly. The Botanist smiled a little, but turned to one of her favourite plants first. A Venus flytrap. In fact, her first creation after her wonderful transformation. The older woman scratched the plant under the jaw for a moment, then let go of it and looked in the bathroom for necessary utensils. She was just about to check for some bandages in a long forgotten cabin when a loud scream rang out from the living room. The Bioterrorist stepped back into the spacious room and immediately recognized the seriousness of the situation. One of her more dangerous creations had wrapped itself around the barely recognizable Harlequin under all the vines, ready to squeeze the body to mush when commanded. Ivy shook her head slightly and patted the plant's slippery skin. Immediately this withdrew. "Thank you, Red," the young woman mumbled on her sofa. She wasn't scared to death any more by this kind of accidents.

The Botanist did not answer, just sat down silently with the bandages next to the Clown. The two women exchanged glances briefly. Both knew what kind of procedure would follow. "This will hurt, Harl. I'm sorry in advance," the red-haired beauty whispered as she drew up a syringe of sedative. Harley just nodded at this statement, sat up carefully, and raised her arms to the point where it became too painful to go further. The Bioterrorist licked her lips and thought for a second, then looked in the small suitcase for scissors. Slowly she cut the material off the battered body. Dressed only in a bra and underpants, the Harlequin trembled in front of the herbalist's watchful eyes. She placed the cannula on the velvety soft skin and slowly pressed the tip into the vein. Harleen squealed softly, shaking her head slightly and grumbling loudly: "I hate syringes!" The older woman smiled at this complain, let the metal slide out of her skin again. She said, slightly amused: After all your injuries, this should be a piece of cake." Ivy didn't wait for an answer, but tended to a variety of minor cuts. There was also a larger wound on Harleys hip. The red-haired woman sewed these with skilful fingers and rubbed the area generously with iodine. To her amazement, the blonde-haired woman hadn't even uttered a sound or flinched. A scrutinizing look at the Harlequin's relaxed face revealed what had happened. Her light breath came through her half open mouth. Apparently the sedative was too strong for the poor girl. The Botanist smiled gently and got up, then waved a few tendrils over. They carefully wrapped themselves around the young woman's limbs and slowly lifted her into the air. Ivy entered the bedroom, followed by the tendrils. In the middle of the room was a living bed of roots and lots of soft leaves. There the gigantic plant let the Harlequin down and caressed the delicate face once more with a few rustling leaves. Immediately the bed began to pulsate slightly, giving off enough warmth to keep the damaged body warm. The older woman sat on the edge and put her hand back into her friend's blonde hair. How did she deserve such a boyfriend? A deranged psychopath with no compassion. And yet the woman practically ran after the self-proclaimed Clown Prince of Gotham. Only more tragic was the fact that Harleen still followed him again and again when he called her by his side.

This call could take a very long time, but one message was enough to rekindle the deadly obsession. Ivy sighed softly and motioned the warm roots to move closer over the Harlequin's body. The Botanist chuckled softly at the sight. She always called it the caterpillar in her cocoon from which a beautiful butterfly would rise. It was the same every time the wounds had healed and their typical coexistence began. It wouldn't be any different this time either. Until the Clown called. A slight nausea overcame the red-haired beauty as she imagined what sexual intercourse with a pathological psychopath must be like. Probably one of his greatest charms for the crazy men and women of Gotham who were running after him for false affection. Ivy let the thought go and lay down next to her broken and defenceless friend. As if by itself, the roots loosened around the pale body, allowing Ivy to softly hug her. The older women's fingertips played with the Harlequin's long, blond hair, feeling slowly up the nape of the neck. Harleen loved to be petted there. An effective trick against stress and strong anxiety. The Bioterrorist closed her eyes, tried to enjoy the surprisingly pleasant closeness to the younger woman beside her. Time past. They lay snuggled close together under the faint moonlight of the night, safe – at least for this evening.

#DC #Batman #Harley Quinn #Poison Ivy #Pamela Isley #Harleen Frances Quinzel #Mad Love #BTAS #Give both girls luv #Hurt and comfort #Friendship #Plant Love #Lesbian?

[mrsgreenworld]

Ok, here it comes. The one-shot inspired by SCK episode 17 fragman #2.

I don't own any of the characters. They belong to the writers and the production company. This is only fanfiction.

Will Our Love Ever Be Enough

She saw him sitting at his desk, focused on the laptop before him. Serkan Bolat in all his workaholic glory. Only Eda knew him enough now to notice that his focus wasn't really on work. His erratic hand gestures betrayed his inner turmoil. He tried, really hard, to grasp at something familiar, something he had control over. But his body language told her about the weight on his shoulders, his eyes screamed pain. How could she not have noticed it before? So naked and out in the open - his suffering. The kind of suffering that even a control freak like him was not able to tame.

But of course she had been too consumed and blinded by her own pain. Only that initial pain was nothing compared to this. This was so much worse... However, it didn't feel worse.

When Serkan had broken up with her it had been akin to having her heart ripped out. She had physically felt that heartache. But now... Now she felt strangely numb. Maybe it's just like with physical pain when it got too much - the body went into shock, a person stopped feeling anything and eventually passed out. That's what she felt like - passed out. Or maybe that's what death was like?

Those first moments after she had finally discovered the truth, when she had learnt about her and Serkan's shared pain, it almost seemed like they had turned into her parents - two people buried under the weight of that wall. Two people who eventually surrendered to death. What was death anyway? Was it really this nothingness? When there's no more pain, no anger, no regrets, no tears, no words...

Was it the why? Why he had hidden this from her? To spare her this horrific experience of dying while actually being alive? It must have been it. And now she thought that maybe had the situation been reversed she would have wanted to shield him from this too.

But it didn't matter now. Now they were both suffocating under the ruins of that wall and it was time to set at least one of them free.

So Eda got up from her chair and moved to one of the slightly open doors to Serkan's office. She rasped her knuckles on the metal surface before entering. Serkan's head shot up as soon as he heard the knock.

"Eda?"

"Could we talk for a little bit?"

"Hm.. Yes. What is it? What do you want to talk about?"

Before answering him, Eda turned and quietly closed all the doors to the office.

"What are you doing?" Eda could almost hear the panic in his voice.

She turned to face him again and saw that he rose from his desk and stepped away from it.

"Just making sure we have some privacy. It's better if we discuss this behind the closed doors"

"Discuss this? What exactly this is?" he stubbornly insisted on playing dumb.

Eda moved closer to Serkan until she stood right in front of him, with only a step separating them. She saw it now - the thing he was so desperately trying to hide. And he was good at it. At hiding and pretending, at blocking his emotions. Had she still been unaware of the truth she might have actually bought his emotionless charade. But now it was before her, clear as day - the same feeling of death and nothingness she was carrying.

She took his face between her hands and felt him shudder.

"Serkan. There's something" she started softly.

He lifted his eyes to her face and she witnessed how they overflowed with agony.

"There's something you're not telling me"

"There's nothing, Eda. I know you think there's something more but honestly there isn't. I've told you many times. It's just me. It's the way I am. I wish I could..."

"Ok, stop!" she interrupted him with a little bit more force than she initially intended.

She closed her eyes feeling a tiny tug of frustration.

"I know" she said on an exhale and opened her eyes.

She saw panic replace the agony in his.

"Wh-what?"

Since when did Serkan Bolat stutter?

"I know everything. I know who's responsible for what happened to my parents"

"You... You know? How?"

"Does it matter? I know"

Shame and raw suffering distorted his face and he tried to get away from her but Eda didn't allow it, still holding onto his face with one hand and sliding her other hand to rest over his heart. She felt that erratically spasming muscle, ready to burst through his chest right into her palm.

"I also know that it's not your fault" she told him softly and slowly because she wanted him to soak in her every word.

"How can you say that?"

"How can I not say that? That's the only undeniable truth. And I want you to understand it. That's not your fault nor your responsibility"

"My family, my father did this to you, to your family!" he sounded almost hysterical.

"You're not your father"

He wanted to argue, wanted to move away from her again but Eda only held onto him tighter, closing the tiny space between them so that their chests were now pressed together.

"Look at me! And listen to me carefully, Serkan Bolat! You're not your father. You're not responsible for his mistakes. You had nothing to do with my parents death. Do you understand?" she told him with conviction, staring straight into his shattered soul.

"But... but I... I didn't tell you. I hid it from you. I broke your heart"

She nodded sadly.

"You did. But I know why"

"You do?"

It tore at her to see all that agony and panic in his eyes be replaced by a fragile hope.

"I do"

"Do you... hate me?"

She shook her head "no".

"Why?"

She then shared her own hidden truth:

"I could never really hate you. Because I love you"

All breath left him after this and hot tears started raining down his face burning the fingers holding it.

"You're here" she uttered softly, then reached for one of his hands and placed it over her heart.

"How can you love me?" he wondered.

"I just do. There isn't really any why when it comes to love. We don't love people for something but rather despite everything"

She saw his eyes shine with even more hope and she hated what she was about to do.

"But..."

"But?" Serkan's eyebrows drew together in confusion.

"Sometimes love is not enough"

"Wh-what are you saying? What do you mean love is not enough? Why are you saying this?"

He finally managed to break free. He almost jumped away from her and leaned on the back of his chair for support, also effectively putting it between them like some sort of a barrier.

"I am saying it because it's true. And I don't want any more secrets between us. I don't want to leave anything unsaid"

"Ok. So, you love me. But love is not enough. And where does it leave us?"

"I don't know. The only thing I know is that I need time and space to heal"

"So let me heal you"

"It's not your job to heal me. And you need healing too"

"Then we can help each other heal! Isn't it what love is about?"

"No, this is not what it's about. This way we will turn our love into a crutch and I don't want that. I think we both deserve better"

"Don't you think we deserve to be together? To be happy?"

"We do deserve to be happy together. But we won't be until we deal with this. And we cannot deal with this together. Because, despite all of it not being our fault and completely out of our control, we are on opposite sides here"

She saw defeat then morphing into resignation take over him.

"Ok, you're right. We will do what you want. I will do what you want"

"I think it's better if we don't see each other. I will talk to Efe and find a way to finish our current projects without me being here. After that I am going to resign. I will focus on my university studies for now. It will keep me busy and... keep me from you. I will also need this time to think how I am gonna tell everything to my aunt"

Serkan gave her a curt nod.

"I understand. How... how much time? How long will we be like this?"

"I don't know" was her honest response.

He just nodded again.

Suddenly lost for words she took a step back.

"Ok... So... I am glad we talked. I will... I'll go. Talk to Efe"

She hastily turned and moved to the doors when she heard him say:

"I will wait, you know?"

She turned to look at him.

"What?"

"I will wait for you. However long it takes. I am gonna wait"

"You don't have to do this. I cannot ask you to wait when I don't even know how long it will last"

"You're not asking. And I know I don't have to do this. I'm gonna do this for me. And for us. The only way I'm gonna give up on us is if you tell me there's no hope and you don't love me. Since you've already said that you love me it leaves only one question. Is there still hope for us?"

Unable to find her voice she just nodded.

"Great!" he responded with ease.

And just like that he was back to his confident business demeanor. The sudden change almost gave her a whiplash.

"I will see you around then"

She just nodded dumbly again. Then slowly turned to the doors. When she pushed one of them open she heard a quiet "Psst" and turned to see him at his desk. He opened his laptop and said, demonstratively looking at the screen:

"By the way, I love you too, Eda Yıldız"

And just like that she felt the nothingness dissolve and death surrender to life.

#sen çal kapımı fanfiction #sen çal kapımı fic #sck fanfiction #sck fic #edser fanfiction #eda ve serkan #eda x serkan #eda yıldız #eda yildiz #serkan bolat