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#am afraid of spiders that's why so many of my books involve spiders'
r3musmoony · 9 months
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Extended what might’ve been in my bio but ultimately ended up cutting it out because it was getting way too long (^з^)-☆
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Currently hosting a GoFundMe for my wheelchair due to lack of funds and pure cost of it. If you could donate even just $1 it would be so helpful
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Yes I smoke, yes I am also disabled, piss off if you think I can’t do both and get a better life
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this is also now slowly becoming an emo blog. I will not apologise, I am slowly falling back into my early teen ways
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Keep staring I might do a trick! 凸^-^凸 
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I refuse to cater to ableists, and yes that includes ableist disabled people. you are still being ableist even if you are disabled yourself
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I write fanfic, my ao3 profile is Eddies_Steve
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Yes my real name is Remus, yes I named myself after Remus Lupin, I do not support JKR or anyone like her which is why I stole the name so that a faggot and tranny can ‘bring shame’ to JKR and her godawful inhumane views
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I am in so many fandoms it’s hard to keep track but my main ones at the moment are:
Into the Spider-verse/Across the Spider-verse (I have a side-blog specifically dedicated to ATSV @hobi3brown )
9-1-1
9-1-1 Lone Star
Stranger Things (I do not support the actors or Netflix)
Criminal Minds
Supernatural
Rocky Horror Picture Show
The Marauders
DC (slowly being corrupted by a friend, still very new to DC)
MCU (mostly Tom Hollands Spider-Man but also slowly getting more involved with other stuff)
Shadow and Bone (TV show and books)
Six of Crows/Crooked Kingdom (CK is unfinished atm)
Good Omens
Shameless
Jake and Johnnie
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As mentioned in my bio, I have Tourette’s syndrome, no I do not have Coprolalia/Copropraxia however I do have echolalia/echopraxia, please do not try and give me tics because you will be blocked.
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Don’t be afraid to call me out if I say something outdated/offensive, I am always open to learning more as a person and I will not take offence.
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Bands that I enjoy in no particular order:
The Casualties
Anti-Flag
Black-flag
Metallica
Motley crue
The cure
Motörhead
Judas Priest
Mother Mother
Hozier
Ghost
Iron Maiden
Depeche Mode
She Wants Revenge
Sister of Mercy
Johnnie Guilbert
Jake Webber
The Front Bottoms (concert in April! Anyone else coming to The Gov in Adelaide on the day I’d love to meet you!)
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This is almost certainly way too much information about me to be sharing on the internet but fuck it, life is short and we all end up dead anyway so might as well have fun while we’re here.
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A cane user, crutch user, and soon-to-be wheelchair user when I can afford it, stuff is insane to afford without insurance covering it sadly, esp in Australia where the NDIS doesn’t actually rly cover much anyway
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very supportive of self-diagnosis as I am self-diagnosed with a few things (with months of research and peer-review)
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I now have a second side blog (as of 14/7/2023) dedicated to sharks! @sharkb01
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another side blog for Good Omens! @inneffablegays
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now also with a side blog for my education of polytheistic norse paganism! @norsepagangay
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succubusphan · 2 years
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A Rose of Winter - Chapter 3
Summary: All Daniel wanted to do was escape the stifling life as a Stark of Winterfell and travel the world. Between the looming threat North of The Wall and the den of lions in the capital, he unexpectedly finds love in the midst of a war set to tear Westeros apart. Caught between loyalty to his family and duty, he is torn in a thousand directions that all point to one man: Philip Flowers.
Rating: E (There are only a few smut scenes but it's an M for battles, war, and other adult topics)
Tags/warnings: I removed most triggers (no R or SA, no minors involved in sex, no gore). It does include: Deaths either written without details or in a poetic way if it's an important character (Dan and Phil, Ghost and Balerion will live but everyone else is fair game). Strangers to lovers, Slow Burn, missing each other. The prophecies and stories foreshadowed are fulfilled, a satisfying ending to the entire story without plot holes. Extreme canon divergence. Dan and Phil are not replacing characters, they were written in. GAME OF THRONES AU
Author's Note: This is my OSPBB 2022, Couldn't have done it without my betas @effingmeteors and @filisaceaf.
Word Count: Each chapter will be around 15k and have at least one Dan or Phil pov. The total wc is about 210k.
Read on Ao3
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NED
Lord Varys’ visit was unexpected. The man had made no attempts to speak to him privately and kept his little birds spying on him constantly, but it seemed he had finally decided to talk. 
He stood right outside Ned’s chambers and smiled. “May I, My Lord?”
Ned nodded, intrigued by the visit. As soon as The Spider walked in, he went about closing every window and door until they were completely alone and in silence. 
“How is your son, My Lord?”
“He’ll never walk again, but he is healthy otherwise.”
“A sound mind is always the most important. Some doors close forever, others open in the most unexpected places,” he said, sitting across from him. “He will have a brilliant future, I am sure.”
Ned nodded, appreciating the sentiment but knowing it was only a pleasantry looking to achieve some sort of favour. “To what do I owe your visit, Lord Varys?”
Varys set his elbows on the desk and rested his chin on his hands, staring at him intently. “If word got out of what I am about to tell you, I would lose my head. The King is a fool; your friend, I know, but a fool and doomed unless you save him.”
“I’ve been in the Capital for some time now, why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I didn’t trust you, but I’ve been watching you closely. You are a man of honour, and I would like to believe I am one myself.” 
“What sort of danger does the King face?”
He leaned back on his chair. “The same Jon Arryn did. The Tears of Lys, they call it, a rare and costly thing. It’s clear as water and has no taste - it leaves no trace.”
Letting out a deep sigh, Ned stood from his seat and paced around the room. This reaffirmed his own theory; poison. “Who would give it to him?” Ned tensed, trying to brace himself for whatever information he was about to receive.  
“A friend, I’m sure. There were many, but there was a boy.”
“His esquire, Ser Hugh.” 
“Everything he was, he owed to Jon Arryn. A pity what happened to him when his life seemed to be going so nicely.” 
“Who would have paid Ser Hugh?” 
“Someone who could afford it.” 
Ned stopped in front of Varys and shook his head. “I don’t understand. Jon Arryn was a good man and a good Hand of the King, why kill him after 17 years?” 
Lord Varys rested his hands on the desk and raised his eyebrows. “He started asking questions.” 
“What kind of questions?” 
“I am afraid that I cannot mention, My Lord. You will have to see for yourself.”
“Can I trust you, Lord Varys?”
Varys seemed to consider it for a moment. “You can trust me to do what is best for The Realm.”
Nodding, Ned thanked him for his visit and sat at his desk, looking at the book he borrowed from the Grand Maester, wondering what his friend looked for so desperately before his death.
---
Ned paced around his study. Problems kept piling on each other by the dozen. Soon after Varys’ visit, he’d stopped by the girls’ chambers only to hear that Arya was nowhere to be found. Every Winterfell soldier in King’s Landing had looked for her and still hadn’t found her. 
Just when he was starting to fear for the worst, two Gold Cloaks brought a very dirty and disgruntled Arya back to him. She was so dishevelled, she had been initially confused for a beggar. 
“You said you were going to stop running out!”
“They said they were going to kill you!” 
“Who?”
“I couldn’t see them. It was two men. They said you found the bastard and something about a Lion - and war. Something about a war and a savage. I think one of them was fat.”
Ned huffed. “Where did you hear this?” 
“In the dungeon, by the dragon skulls.” 
“And what were you doing there?” 
“I was chasing a cat,” Arya mumbled. 
They were interrupted by another knock on the door. This time it was a man from the Night's Watch. 
“My name is Yoren, My  Lord. 
“Did my brother Benjen send you?”
“No, I came here looking for new recruits from your dungeons, but that is not the reason for my visit. I rode here so hard I nearly killed my horse, but your brother Benjen’s blood runs black just like mine so I must warn you. Everyone will know by tonight.”
“Warn me about what?” 
“It’s best said in private,” Yoren said. 
Once Arya and Jory had left, Ned nodded. 
“Your wife has taken the imp.” 
Ned felt his legs give ever so slightly and sat down. This was treason. Cat was about to be arrested, tried and executed for her crimes, and knowing the Lannisters, he would follow along with their daughters. He needed to speak to Robert before they got the word and were able to convince him of it. 
“Thank you, Yoren. I hope I can repay this favour to you.” 
Yoren nodded. 
“If you excuse me, I must take care of this immediately.” 
If he hurried, he would probably find Robert in his chambers with an assortment of whores. He rushed down the stairs but one of the Gold Cloaks stopped him on the way down. “My Lord, there’s a small council meeting, the King has summoned you.”
“Is it about my wife?”
“No, My Lord. I believe it concerns Daenerys Targaryen.” 
--
“The whore is pregnant!” Robert said, banging the table with his fist. “I warned you back in the north! I knew this would happen! I want them dead, her and that fool Viserys too!”
Ned frowned, he couldn’t believe how heartless Robert had become. “You are speaking of murdering a child! You dishonour yourself forever if you do this.”
“I am the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms, do you think honour keeps them in line? That it keeps the peace? No, it’s fear!”
“Then we are no better than The Mad King!”
“Careful, Ned. Careful now!” Robert shouted.
“You want to assassinate a girl because the spider heard a rumour.” Ned knew exactly who had little birds everywhere, even in Essos. The Master of Whisperers was good at his job but he was also good at using the information to his advantage. 
“No rumour, My Lord,” Varys said calmly. “The Princess is with child.”
“Based on whose information?” He pressed.
“Ser Jorah Mormont, he’s serving as an adviser to the Targaryens.”
“Mormont? You bring us the whispers of a traitor?” 
Petyr Baelish interjected with a half smile. “He’s a slaver, not a traitor. Small difference, I know,” he said.
“He broke the law, betrayed his family and fled our land.” Ned let out a deep sigh, he couldn’t understand why nobody understood how wrong it would be to kill the Targaryen girl, even more so if she was really pregnant. “We commit murder on the word of this man?” 
Robert huffed. “And if he’s right? If she has a son, a Targaryen ahead of a Dothraki army?” 
“The Narrow Sea is still between us.” Ned didn’t fear the horse Lords, not when they had never sailed before, or had a fleet. The chances of them getting a fleet big enough to cross from the old continent with enough horses to be a problem for the crown were non-existent.
“You want me to do nothing? Is that your advice?” Robert’s voice boomed through the room. Then he looked around the table. “You are my council, speak some sense into him!” He yelled. 
Varys cleared his throat. “It is a vile thing, My Lord, but sometimes those of us who rule must do vile things for the good of The Realm,” he said. “Should the Gods grant Daenerys a son, The Realm would bleed.”
Grand Maester Pycelle nodded. “I bear this girl no ill will, but should the Dothraki invade, how many innocents will die? How many towns will burn? Isn’t it kinder to kill her now so that thousands can live?” 
“We should have gotten them both killed years ago,” said Renly. 
Renly’s opinion didn’t surprise Ned given that he had never been in battle or killed anyone. 
“When you find yourself in bed with an ugly woman, best close your eyes and get it over with,” Littlefinger added. “Cut her throat and be done with it.” He smiled and raised his wine glass at Ned before drinking from it.
Ned looked at Robert and made a last attempt to reason with his childhood friend. “I followed you into war - twice! Without any doubts, without second thoughts, but I will not follow you now. The Robert I grew up with didn’t tremble at the shadow of an unborn child.”
“She dies,” Robert said through gritted teeth.
 “I will have no part in it.” He would not sacrifice his honour and his values to reassure Robert.
“You will do as I command, Lord Stark or I will find me a hand who will.” 
“You are not the Robert I grew up with. I thought you were a better man.” Ned said and removed the pin that identified him as The Hand throwing it on the table in front of his best friend.
Robert’s face twisted in a mix of anger and hurt. “Go!” He yelled. “Run back to Winterfell!” He stood from his seat, the chair dragging on the floor loudly. “I’ll have your head on a spike!”
Ned rushed to his chambers as Robert yelled and cursed after him. He opened the door swiftly and asked Jory to get Sansa and Arya ready and not ask anyone for help. 
Jory nodded but hesitated for a moment. “Baelish is here to talk to you.” 
“Send him in,” Ned said as he collected everything he could and packed it away. 
“Lord Stark, I see that you are in a rush to leave. While I cannot blame you for making that decision, I have found a final piece of information that may interest you.”
“What is it?” Ned paused. 
“If you can wait until sundown, I can take you to the last person Jon Arryn visited before he died.”  
Considering it briefly, Ned decided that this may be the last piece of the puzzle that will uncover who killed Jon Arryn and why. “Jory, put guards outside the girls’ chambers and be ready to come with me at sundown. Make sure they are ready to leave.” 
LORAS
Loras watched Renly as he entered their chambers, still wearing his leather armour with the Baratheon sigil plastered all over it. 
“Go, we’ll speak later,” Phil said with a half smile. “I can see I no longer hold your attention.” 
“What can I do? I am weak before his beauty?” 
“Weak for a man? What would our grandmother say?” 
“She would say Tyrell men are all weak anyway and to make the best of it.” 
“You are right,” Phil laughed. “Go, he’s waiting for you.” 
Loras nodded at his cousin and made his way back to the set of chambers he shared with his lover. He opened the door and saw him already removing his armour and huffing. 
“I told you it was too hot to wear it.” He walked over to Renly and helped him pry it open, exposing his sweaty undershirt.
“I think it looks good on me,” Renly said. 
“It does, but you don’t need to look good for anyone other than me - and I prefer you naked, my love.” Loras pressed a kiss to Renly’s lips and pulled at his clothes, running his fingers on the other’s skin. “Would you let me shave your chest?” 
“Why?” 
“I prefer hairless men.” 
“Alright,” Renly said. “But only my chest.” 
“And your armpits.” Loras poured water into a basin and lathered a piece of soap before rubbing it on Renly’s chest.
“If you like hairless men so much, perhaps you should try boys.” 
Loras rolled his eyes and slid the blade on Renly’s chest softly, smiling at all the hair that was coming off already. “I want you, just - hairless.”  
“Daenerys Targaryen is pregnant.” 
“Oh,” Loras said. The old allies of House Tyrell; Interesting. “How did the meeting go?”
“Lord Stark thinks it’s cruel to kill a pregnant woman for the sins of her father and her name, but we all agreed to it. It will save us a lot of problems in the future.”
“And Lord Stark?” 
“He argued with each of us and told Robert he was not the same man he once knew; broke his heart. Then he left The Hand pin and left.”
“I am surprised he still had his head.”
Renly snickered. “Robert will rant for a few days and do nothing about it. He loves that man.”
“You’re jealous,” Loras said with a triumphant smile. He dragged the blade with a little more confidence as Renly relaxed into the activity.
“Robert and Stannis think that anyone who hasn’t been to war isn’t a man. They treat me like a spoiled child.”
Loras bit his lip and looked into his eyes before focusing back on the task at hand.
“Don’t give me that look,” Renly said, kissing his nose. “The Knight of the Flowers! How much did your father spend on that armour of yours?” 
“As much as it was necessary, I assure you. I will give it a good use - fighting.”
“I cannot fight. Not everyone is as gifted a swordsman as you.” 
“It is not a gift if I worked for it my entire life,” Loras said.
Renly shook his head. “I could work my entire life and I would still never be as good as you.” 
“I guess we’ll never know.” Loras raised Renly’s arm and lathered the soap there. “So the Targaryen girl must die.” His grandmother would be happy to hear the news.
“Yes. I do not like it, but Robert is rather tasteless about it. I swear the table rises six inches every time he mentions killing.”
“Too bad he can’t muster the same amount of lust for his wife.”
“He does have lust for her money. The Lannisters may be the most annoying, enraging, pompous cunts but they do have outrageous amounts of money.” 
Loras looked at him through narrowed eyes. “I have outrageous amounts of money.”
“Not as much as the Lannisters.”
“But a lot more than you,” he teased. 
“Robert is threatening to take me hunting. I hate it. The last time it took two weeks for him to get his spear into something. But he’s the King, I can’t exactly say no to him.”
“How did he become King?”
“He used to be very good at killing.” 
“I think you should be King. My father could be your bank,” Loras said. “I have never been at war, but I would fight for you.”
Renly looked into his eyes with a sweet smile before shaking his head. “I am fourth in the line of succession!” 
“Robert will drink himself to death sooner than you think, Joffrey is a monster, Tommen is too young.”
“What about Stannis?”
“He has the personality of a lobster; he’s not fit to be a King!” 
“I don’t know, Loras. Would it be worth it to risk it all for the crown?” 
Loras paused. Perhaps not everything, but they could be careful. “Just think about it, that’s all I’m suggesting. We would have to be careful and have patience so that the risk is minimal, but there is a chance.” 
“I don’t know if I’m fit to be a king.”
“People love you. They love to serve you because you are kind to them. You do what is necessary but you don’t gloat about it. Westeros needs you, my love.”
“I’ll think about it.” 
Yes, King Renly Baratheon had such a sweet flavour in his mouth. It would be good for them and Loras would love to be at his side every step of the way.
He pulled Renly into a kiss, smiling into it, slowly making his way down the freshly shaved skin of his chest and down to his stomach as he untied Renly’s breeches. He smiled as he wrapped his lips around his lover and made him tremble. 
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PHIL
Completely bored with the lack of events once the tournament had ended and his cousin had moved on to their usual schemings, Phil decided to go for a walk around the city. 
A few men tried to get his attention, but he knew better than to roll around in strangers’ beds. Even though he was highly regarded by his family, he was still a bastard and once men found out they could not claim any sort of benefits from him, they tended to get a bit less… loving. 
He made a turn around the main gates and almost ran into a beautiful black dog. No, actually it wasn’t a dog. It was clearly a wolf, and somehow bigger; with a shiny black coat and he looked a bit too hot in the city’s weather. He extended his hand to pet the wolf, even with his grandmother’s shrieks from childhood ringing in his ear.
The beast turned to him and eyed him curiously, pressing his nose to Phil’s hand. “Aw, you are such a beautiful wolf, aren’t you?” He let his fingers slide up the wolf’s nose and scratched his head. 
Everything was going perfectly. Phil didn’t know who’s wolf this was but they should have taken better care of him if they wanted to keep him. Suddenly, Phil found himself pressed to the outer wall of the castle, the wolf standing on his hind legs and resting its weight on his shoulder as he licked Phil’s face. “Oh!” He laughed. “Easy, boy, easy.” He tried to push the wolf off him but he wouldn’t move. “Down!” He tried to sound commanding but his giggles ruined that chance entirely. 
Phil’s laugh stopped when he saw one of the guards approach them with his sword drawn. 
“Stay still, I will kill it.” 
“You will do no such thing. This is my pet.” Phil said. “Can’t you see we are playing?” 
“There shouldn't be a wolf loose in the city, My Lord, it is dangerous.”
“Very well, we are leaving.” Phil stepped away from the wall with some difficulty, grabbing the wolf’s front paws and pushing them away from himself. The beast chewed on his fingers to let him know that he did not appreciate that, but nothing more. 
With the guard watching them intently, Phil snapped his fingers and patted the side of his hips. “Come on, Shadow. It is time to go home.” 
In a strike of luck, the wolf barely hesitated before following him into the city. To avoid any sort of accident, Phil used small alleyways to make his way to the Great Keep. Just as he was about to walk past a brothel with his new friend, Phil noticed a hooded figure watching something ahead. He walked closer, wanting to take a look and saw The Hand of The King surrounded by Lannister soldiers, Jaime Lannister himself approaching by horse and drawing his sword. 
Phil knew the Starks and the Lannisters didn’t have a good history, but this was a surprising turn of events. He saw the cloaked figure reach for their sword. Their hand had a ring with the Stark sigil, but the wolf was black instead of grey. He stood beside this person and looked at the face of a young man, with curly hair, white skin, brown eyes, and classic Stark posture. “Are you Robb Stark?” Phil asked. 
The man pulled Phil back into the alley and wrapped his hand around his neck. He looked into Phil’s eyes curiously. “Who are you?” 
“Phil. Philip Flowers,” he answered. “Is that your father?” 
The man nodded. “I am not Robb. I am going to rescue my father - you should leave.” 
Phil didn’t think that would be possible considering the number of soldiers but nodded. The Stark strode back to the brothel, but before he could join the fight, Jaime Lannister put a knife through the Winterfell soldier’s eye and attacked The Hand repeatedly, matching him in strength and speed but soon, one of his own men put a spear through Ned Stark’s leg, sending him to the floor. 
Before he could consider the consequences of his own actions, Phil grabbed the young Stark and pulled him back, just as he was about to intervene and get himself killed in the process. The man fought with all his might, so in a desperate attempt to calm him down, Phil put a knife to his throat. “You are no good to your family dead. No matter how good you are with your sword, you will not win.” Phil lowered the knife when he heard the wolf growl next to him. It seemed Phil had found the wolf’s master. “Come with me, I will help you. I will try to help you free your father. They will not kill him. The King would have their heads.” 
He saw desperate tears streaming down the man - the boy’s eyes. He looked much younger now. 
“What’s your name?” Phil asked.
“Dan,” he said.
“Come, Dan. House Tyrell will help you.”  
DAN
“Are you insane?” Loras asked Phil as he passed a glass of wine in Dan’s direction. 
Renly sat very still while Balerion looked at him closely - extremely closely. 
“I can leave,” Dan said. Maybe coming to Phil’s quarters was a bad idea after all. “I just came to check on my father and sisters.” 
“Nonsense,” Loras said. “Phil is right, you wouldn’t have won against thirty Lannister soldiers - or even against the Kingslayer alone. He is famous for his sword skills for a reason; no inexperienced man could take him easily.”
“I’m not inexperienced I -” Dan tried. 
“It was foolish to even try that. Robert won’t allow your father to come in harm’s way, but I would suggest you take your sisters with you when you leave. Children are a much easier target,” Renly said. 
Dan turned to Phil who was leaning against the wall watching him. “Would you help me get to Arya and Sansa?” 
“I will try my best to help you reach them. It’s not an easy feat, but we can try.”
“Thank you,” said Dan. “I will not forget this.”
“Oh!” Renly said, his chair suddenly hitting the ground as Balerion stood on his chest, licking his face. 
NED 
Ned tried to stir in his sleep but found it too painful to even move; his leg was throbbing with pain and on the verge of being infected. He groaned and opened his eyes, startled as his eyes met Cersei Lannister’s and then Robert’s.
“I want him and his wife punished for what they did to my brother!” The Queen hissed. 
“Oh, shush, you woman! What do you want me to do? Put The Hand in a cell? The Warden of the North?”
“Yes -”
“I will not! Leave us!”  
Cersei crossed her arms, giving Robert a look loaded with hate. “If you let your servants do what they will-” 
“LEAVE US!” Robert said, making Cersei take a step back. “NOW!”
She looked at Ned with disdain and rushed out of the room.
Robert cleared his throat and looked at him seriously. “I don’t know what happened between you and these golden headed shits, but this ends now. You will send a raven and have your wife return Tyrion Lannister to King’s Landing.”
“He tried to kill my boy!”
“His father is my bank, I owe them a lot of gold, what will you have me do? Execute him?” Robert groaned. “I can’t rule if the Starks and the Lannisters are at each other’s throats.” 
“What about what they did?” 
“I will hear no more about it, Ned. I never loved my brothers, I know it’s wrong of me to say it, but you are the brother I chose. Stay,” He said, throwing the pin of The Hand on the bed. “We’ll talk when I return from the hunt.” 
Ned frowned. “What hunt?” 
“I am going away until I can kill something, it will clear my head. You will have to sit on the throne while I’m gone; you will hate it even more than I do.” 
“What about the Targaryen girl?” 
“She will die!” Robert yelled and walked to the door and pointed at the pin. “You will wear it, or I swear I will put it on Jaime Lannister.”
--
Ned followed Robert’s instructions to the best of his abilities, but decided that if he was going to rule the Seven Kingdoms, he would have to actually bring criminals to justice. Robert may be content drinking his life away and spending time with his women, but someone had to bring order to the chaos that was the realm. So he sat on the Iron Throne and heard people, as Robbert should have done.
“A tall man, taller than I’d ever seen, in full armour and mounting a black horse burned our village,” a man said. “They took the women and burned the children, and stole all of our food for the winter. He left something behind!” 
The man cut open a bag full of fishes without a head, stinking up the entire room in no time.
“It is a message, no doubt,” Varys commented. 
“Isn’t your wife a Tully of Riverrun? Her house sigil is a fish,” Pycelle observed.
“The Mountain has often been called Tywin Lannister’s mad dog,” Littlefinger said with a half smile. “Can you think of any reason the Lannisters may have to be angry with your wife?”
Ned nodded to the man. “I cannot give you back your homes or restore your dead to life, but I can at least give you justice, in the name of our King, Robert.” 
“Thank you, your g - Hand.” 
Slowly rising to his feet, trying not to flinch at the pain shooting up his leg, Ned held onto his walking stick tightly and took three steps forward to address the crowd. “In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm, I charge you to bring to justice to Ser Gregor Clegane and all those who shared in his crimes. I denounce him and attaint him, strip him of all titles and ranks, of all lands and holdings and sentence him to death. Lord Berrick Dondarrion-” Ned called. “You shall have the command, assemble one hundred men and ride to Ser Gregor’s Keep.”
“As you command, My Lord,” Lord Dondarrion replied.
Grand Maester Pycelle stood from his seat and whispered to him. “That is a drastic decision; perhaps it would be best to wait for the King’s return.”
"Grand Maester Pycelle…”
“Yes, My Lord?”
“Send a raven to Casterly Rock. Inform Tywin Lannister that he has been summoned to court to answer for the crimes of his bannermen. He will arrive within a fortnight or be branded an enemy of the crown and a traitor to the realm.” 
The court erupted in murmurs, looking at each other. 
Ned walked down the steps, Littlefinger following close behind. “A bold move, My Lord. Is it wise to pull from the lion’s tail? Tywin Lannister is the richest man in the Seven Kingdoms and gold wins wars, not soldiers.”
“Then how come Robert is King, not Tywin Lannister?”
--
“I’m sending you both back to Winterfell,” Ned said looking down at Arya and Sansa.
“No! I am promised to Joffrey, I can’t go!”
“I will find you a good match, but now you must go.”
“Are you dying?” Arya asked. “Is that why you are sending us away?”
“No, I’m not dying.” 
“But I want to marry Joffrey and have golden haired babies. He will be a golden lion, the greatest King there ever was!” Sansa whined. 
“The Lion is not his sigil, you idiot, he’s a Baratheon, like his father. His sigil is the stag.”
“He’s a Lion! He’s nothing like that old drunk!” Sansa cried. 
Ned blinked, realisation finally drawing on him. Sansa was right, Joffrey didn’t look like Robert at all, neither did his brother or sister. The bastard boy he’d met looked impressively like his friend but all the children he had with his wife did not resemble him - only her.
“Start packing and stay with your Septa. Both of you.”
He turned and walked back to his chambers, opening the book he had been examining for weeks now. He finally knew where to look. He searched for the House Baratheon records and saw that every single Baratheon ever born was listed as “black of hair” except for Joffrey, Tommen and Myrcella. He now knew why Jon Arryn had been mumbling “The seed is strong” as he parted from this world, trying to tell the truth. 
Joffrey was no Prince, and he would be no King. 
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DAENERYS
Danny looked into the brazier and placed the dragon eggs inside, wondering if it was possible that they were somehow still alive. She thought back to the tales of old Valyria and the great Kings and Queens that ruled there and eventually flew on dragon back to Westeros. How easily they took the Seven Kingdoms with their companions. If she could get dragons, she could surely avenge her father’s death, kill all the Lannisters and free the common people from the grasp of the usurper. She leaned down, looked into the fire more closely and grabbed one of the eggs with her hands. It was warm but not hot at all - that would not do.
Irri rushed to her. “Khaleesi, you burn your hands!” She grabbed the egg from Danny's hand but promptly dropped it into the fire pit, moaning in pain. 
Daenerys frowned and looked at Irri’s hands, the imprint of every dragon scale was visible on her skin but when she looked at her own, the skin was unscathed. 
“How?” Irri asked.
“I - I don’t know.” Maybe the tales of the Targaryens being impervious to fire were true, but she was not keen on testing that theory out.
--
A ceremony was prepared in her honour; she was to appear before the Dosh Khaleen, a group of wise Dothraki women, widows of slain Khals that became the rulers of Vaes Dothrak. Danny walked to their tent and stood at the centre of the circle, the crones singing already. One of them handed her the heart of a stallion for her to eat raw and covered in blood as it was; it was a rite of passage. 
She looked into Drogo’s eyes and took a big bite of the meat, almost flinching at the taste but not wanting to disrespect her new culture. She swallowed and bit on some more. 
One of the crones’ voices rose above the others, she spoke about Danny’s child. He would be the ‘Stallion Who Mounts the World,’ the Khal of Khals who would turn the entire world into his horde. It was a long foretold Dothraki story and the crones were sure that her son was the one. 
Danny pushed the last piece of meat into her mouth and felt it coming back up, she coughed and choked, falling to her knees, but she persisted and swallowed the last piece of the stallion heart, making the entire Dosh Khaleen chant louder, other Dothraki women dancing around her, Drogo looking at her proudly. 
She stood and looked all around to every crone and every Khal and used her Dothraki knowledge to let them know. “A Prince rides inside me and he shall be called Rhaego!”
“Rhaego! Rhaego! Rhaego!” They chanted. 
Drogo rose from his chair and picked her up, raising her above him, looking at her adoringly as he carried her around, letting her receive all the energy from the Dothraki, claiming for their child. 
She smiled and let herself enjoy the love of her people, Viserys’ early departure going almost unnoticed. Instead of worrying about her brother’s volatile reaction, she focused on those who really mattered. Her new family, her husband and the child growing inside her. Rhaego... he would be loved. He would be so loved. 
As the night progressed, the festivity continued. The crones sat down to chat, the Khals waited for the food already roasting on the fire, enjoying the company of the slaves that danced before them, their breasts bare, drinking wine. But not her Khal, not Drogo; he had eyes for her and only her and that made Daenerys proud. It was, perhaps, a bit silly, but she smiled as she thought about it regardless. 
Viserys marched into the tent once again, this time he was visibly drunk and in the mood for a fight. This was not going to end well for her brother and she knew it. The Dothraki law said that there would be no blood drawn in Vaes Dothrak, their sacred land, but Viserys had a way to tick people off. 
“Daenerys! Where are you?” He asked as he stumbled.
“Stop him,” she whispered to Jorah. 
He walked up to Viserys and grabbed his arm but he pulled away. “Get your hand off me!” he yelled. “No one touches The Dragon!”
One of the Khals leaned closer to Drogo and murmured. “Is that supposed to be a Prince? He looks like an unkept whore.”
Drogo laughed, drawing Viserys’ attention to himself. 
“Drogo! Khal Drogo! I’m here for the feast!”
He snorted and pointed at a chair on the opposite side of the tent, away from them and anyone who was of importance. “There is a place for you, back there.” 
Jorah promptly translated for Viserys.
Viserys shook his head, making his pale blonde hair bounce. “That is no place for a King!”
To Daenerys’ surprise, Drogo spoke in the common tongue. “You are no King!”
Viserys drew his sword and stepped towards them but turned, pointing it at Jorah when he felt his presence behind. “Keep away from me!” 
“Viserys, please,” Danny said, trying to appease her brother. She didn’t want him to ruin the celebration. 
“There she is!” He said, even though she had been standing by her husband all along. He looked between Jorah and Daenerys before marching toward her.
“Put your sword away, they will kill us all,” Jorah said. 
“They can’t kill us; they can’t spill blood in their filthy city!” Viserys laughed and aimed his sword at Daenerys’ womb. “I want what I came for. I want the crown he promised me. He bought you, but he never paid you.” 
Irri leaned close to Drogo and translated for him. 
“Tell him I want what was bargained for or I'm taking you back. He can keep the baby; I’ll cut it out and leave it for him.”
Drogo hissed at him and let Danny know exactly what he was about to do, to give her time to intervene if she so desired. 
“What did he say?” Viserys asked.
Danny smiled. “He said yes. You shall have a golden crown that men shall tremble to behold.”
Drogo walked up to her and wrapped his arms around Danny, pressing a hand to her belly; only then he gave the order. 
Two Khals grabbed Viserys arms and broke them so that he wouldn’t be able to grab his sword and dragged him away. 
“No! You can’t hurt me! I’m The Dragon! I’m The Dragon!”
As Viserys continued to scream and demand that he be let go, Danny smiled at him and shushed him, trying to soothe him. Drogo removed his gold belt and put it inside a cauldron to melt in order to crown her beloved brother like he had so desperately wanted. 
“Danny, Danny please!” He screamed, but she put her hand over her stomach protectively and looked into his eyes, letting him know how sorry she was - sorry that he’d been such an awful brother and an awful uncle for her child. It was simply not safe for her or anyone to keep Viserys around. 
“Look away Khaleesi,” Jorah said, putting his hand on her shoulder. 
“No,” she said. She wanted to see it.
“A crown for a King!” said Drogo as he poured molten gold over Viserys' head, making him scream in agony for the few short seconds he survived. When he grew quiet, the Khals let him fall to the ground with a loud metallic thud.
“Khaleesi?” Jorah asked.
“He was no dragon. Fire cannot kill a Dragon.”
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BRAN 
Bran felt light on his feet, remembering what his brothers taught him about posture and how it could affect his technique. He drew and released, hitting the target with his arrow in the first attempt, he let out a little celebratory whoop. 
A raven croaked behind him, calling him, taunting him. Bran ran towards it and it flew a little further away as if it was trying to tell him something, so Bran followed. The closer he was able to get to it, the more he realised there was something odd about the bird. Right when they got to the bottom of the Broken Tower, Bran noticed that there was a third eye between the two usual ones and they all blinked in unison. The raven opened its beak to croak again or say something-
Bran opened his eyes and found Hodor looming over him, holding a saddle in his hands. 
“Hodor!”
“Good morning, Hodor.” Bran smiled, maybe today would be the day he would feel whole again. “Come on, let’s go for a ride.” 
“Hodor,” he nodded and picked Bran up, carrying him and the saddle all the way down to his horse. To his surprise, Robb and Theon were already waiting for him with wide smiles. 
The saddler fastened the new saddle to Bran’s horse as Hodor held him in place. Once it was completely tightened around him and the horse, he felt quite secure in it. It was different this way; he knew he still wouldn’t be able to do the same things he’d always wanted, he would never be a knight, or climb or run with Summer, but he could still ride and explore the woods as much as he wanted, just like before the accident. 
Not remembering the fall was frustrating because he knew something must have happened but not what exactly. Did he slip? Did something startle him?
“Bran! Don’t stray away, I want to see you!” Robb said. “If you fell off that horse, Mother would kill us both.”
“Maybe she should be here to keep an eye on me,” Bran mumbled.
“What?”
“Nothing. I won’t fall,” Bran pouted. He looked down and saw Summer looking at him with awe, he could tell that she was happy for him. 
When they finally reached a clearing, Bran commanded his horse to go into a trot around it. Robb and Theon sat on a fallen tree to chat about boring things as they always did. It sounded like Theon was trying to convince Robb to go into war again. 
Bran sighed and turned walking off between the trees, going left and right with each one he passed to really try to master the commands. Before he knew it he was surrounded by 3 dirty men and one woman, all of them with long matted hair and covered in woolly rags and winter boots; they smelled foul.
“We are taking the horse, and that pin!” One of them pointed to the silver fish pin that belonged to his mother. 
“I am Brandon Stark of Winterfell! My brother will have your heads for this!”
“Oh, a little Lord! Then the pin will be silver!” The man reached for it and took it, Bran didn’t dare to let go of the reins.
“We should take him to Mance Rayder! He’s Benjen’s blood, Mance will love it.” 
“Fuck Mance Rayder, Fuck Benjen Stark! We need to head south as fast as we can!” Another of the men said. “Now, get off the horse, little Lord!” 
“I can’t!” Bran was trying to be brave, he really was, but he didn’t know what they would to do him when they found out -
He moved Bran’s cloak and looked at his leg before cutting the leather straps that held Bran to the saddle as he laughed. “Oh! He’s a cripple!” 
Bran was pulled from his horse by two of the men, but before they could do anything, Summer attacked them along with Robb. He quickly killed two of the men while Summer growled at the woman. The third man was fast enough to put a knife to Bran’s neck and keep him hostage. 
“Lower your sword or he dies!” 
“I could kill you right now!” Robb said.
“You could but not fast enough to save him.” Blood gurgling in the man’s throat is the next thing Bran heard, he looked to his left and saw a knife sticking through the man’s chest.
“You could have killed Bran!” yelled Robb. 
Theon stepped in to hold onto Bran before he could fall to the ground. “But I didn’t. We should kill her,” he said, pointing at the woman.
“No, My Lord! If you give me your life, I will serve you. I was just fleeing south to be safe. I meant no harm.” The woman kneeled. “You tell him little Lord!” 
“She didn’t try to kill me,” Bran said. It was true, she had tried to use him to bargain but she had not tried to kill him at least.
“We should kill her, she will harm Bran the first chance she gets!” Theon yelled, looking at her with pure hatred.
“I would not!” She said. “I can keep a promise!”
“Enough!” Robb huffed. “We will take her as a prisoner and she will help around the castle.”
“But-” Theon tried.
“This is not your family, Theon. The Starks know mercy and honour. She bent the knee and pleaded for her life and we will honour that.”
Theon looked at him with disdain. “Well, go ahead. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
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NED
Trying to put his thoughts into order, Ned walked out to the gardens and sat in the sun, listening to the singing birds and feeling the wind flow through his hair. He closed his eyes and wished he could be back home, at Winterfell, with Cat and his children. Every day that went by the possibility of their lives returning to normal seemed further and further away. It was slipping through his fingers. 
He felt a presence to his side and when he looked, he was surprised to see Cersei Lannister smiling at him. 
“I know why Jon Arryn died,” he said.
Her lips twitched into a brief smile as she looked down on him. “You should go home and heal your leg instead of speaking in riddles.”
Ned was not a man of subtlety and the Queen’s games were often tiring for him. It would be best to get it over with. “I know Jaime is your lover.” To his surprise, the Queen did not flinch or cower before him despite the accusation.
“The Targaryens married between brothers and sisters for centuries to keep the bloodline pure. Jaime and I are more than brother and sister; we shared a womb, came into this world together, we belong together.”
This was his only chance to confirm who Bran’s attacker was. “My son saw you with him.”
Cersei smiled. “Do you love your children?”
“With all my heart-”
“Not more than I love mine,” she rushed to say. 
“And they are all Jaime’s” He pressed. 
“Thank the Gods,” she said with a shrug. “In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores alone long enough to stumble into my bed I finish him off in other ways. He never remembers.”
“You always hated him.” 
“Hated him? I worshipped him. Every girl in the Seven Kingdoms wanted him but he was mine by oath. When I finally saw him on our wedding day at the Sept of Baelor, his beautiful black hair and beard, it was the happiest day of my life. But when he crawled on top of me, drunk as can be, and he did what little he could do, he whispered in my ear Lyanna. Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he loved her more than me.”
Ned knew this to be true. Robert’s obsession with Lyanna lasted even to this day and it was the sole cause for his rebellion and the hate he still had for the Targaryens. Still, Cersei’s crimes would be her downfall. “When the King returns from his hunt I will tell him the truth. You should leave and take your children with you - I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far as you can with as many men as you can. No matter where you go, Robert’s wrath will follow you.” 
“What about my wrath, Lord Stark?” Cersei asked. “You should have taken The Realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day that King’s Landing fell. He was sitting on the throne and you made him give it up. You could have taken it, all you needed to do was climb the steps. Such a sad mistake.”
“I’ve made many mistakes in my life but that was not one of them.”
“Oh, but it was. When you play the game of thrones you win or you die. There is no middle ground.” Without waiting for a reply, she walked away. 
---
Not a day later, Renly rushed to him as he walked around the Red Keep’s courtyard. 
“Ned! It’s Robert - a boar!” The young Baratheon said, his eyes welled up with tears. 
As soon as Ned entered the King’s chambers, the smell hit him. It was overwhelming, it smelled of - death. Joffrey sat at Robert’s side, holding his hand. 
“Go, leave us,” Robert said. “Leave us, all of you!” He yelled when he realised Cersei was not moving. She finally left them, closing the door behind her.
“How bad is it?” Ned asked.
“Oh, it’s bad. A boar attacked me but I got it in the end. Let the city celebrate my memory with a feast of the last beast I killed!” 
Ned uncovered the wound to take a better look at it and it seemed that Robert was right. It was a deep cut, swollen and festering with all kinds of fluids. If he’d been closer to the castle maybe something could have been done, but it was too late now. 
“You will rule until Joffrey comes of age. Write it down.” 
Ned nodded and grabbed paper and a quill from the nearby table and waited for his friend to let him know his last will.
“I, Robert of the house Baratheon, titles, titles,” he said rolling his hand, “assign Lord Eddard of the house Stark as Protector of the realm, to rule until my son Joffrey comes of age and can take the throne himself.” 
Knowing exactly what he was doing, Ned changed Joffrey’s name for ‘the rightful heir’ and gave it to Robert to sign. 
Making the effort to lift his head, Robert signed the letter without reading it and laid back down with a groan. “Now give me something for the pain and let me die!”  
“Yes, Your Grace.” Ned shook his best friend’s hand one last time and made his way out of the room. “Give him milk of the poppy,” he said to Pycelle.
The Grand Maester nodded and walked in along with Renly.
“How did the King get injured?” Ned asked Varys and Ser Barristan. 
The guard spoke first. “We were hunting for days without luck, but when we finally came before a boar, he was too drunk and the beast got to him first.”
“But who gave him the wine?” Asked Varys.
“His esquire,” Barristan said. 
“The Lannister boy?”
“A dutiful esquire, no doubt, always making sure the King did not go thirsty,” Varys said, raising his eyebrows at Ned.
The three men looked at each other silently acknowledging what they knew to be true. The Lannisters had planned the entire ruse to get Robert out of the way. 
--
Accompanied by the Winterfell soldiers, Ned slowly walked back to his chambers. Just as he was about to go in, Renly caught up to him. 
“Lord Stark, a word?” 
Ned nodded and let him in, closing the door behind them. 
“He named you Protector of the Realm,” Renly said. 
“He did.”
“She won’t care,” Renly said, pacing around the room. “Give me an hour and I will give you a hundred swords.” 
“Why would I need a hundred swords?”
The young Baratheon finally froze in place and turned to him with a frown. “To strike tonight, while the castle is sleeping. We need to take Joffrey from Cersei and put him in custody. Protector of The Realm or not, he who holds the King, holds the Kingdom.” 
Ned shook his head. “Robert is still King.”
Leaning above Ned’s desk, he set his palms firmly on the wood and looked into his eyes. He looked scared, sad, excited. A rare mix of emotions passed through his face. “Every moment of delay gives Cersei a moment to prepare. By the time he is dead it will be too late for both of us.”
“What about Stannis?”
“You want to protect the Seven Kingdoms and hand them to Stannis?” Renly stood back. “What odd notions you have of protecting The Realm!”
“Stannis is the rightful heir.”
“This is not about the bloody line of succession! It didn’t matter with Robert’s rebellion against the Mad King and it shouldn’t matter now. We all know who Stannis is, he doesn’t inspire love or loyalty, he is no King. I am.” He crossed his arms above his chest.
“Stannis is a commander, he has led thousands of men into battle - twice.” Ned sighed, Renly was too young and inexperienced to understand about honour, about what truly mattered.
“Yes, he’s a good soldier and so was Robert. Do you still think soldiers make good Kings?”
There was no use in arguing with Robert’s little brother while his life hung by a thread. “I will not dishonour Robert’s last hours by shedding blood in his house and dragging frightened children from their beds.”
---
Since he was not going to be getting help from Renly, Ned had to make plans without him. The one thing that the young Baratheon was right about, was that Cersei would not leave without a fight. 
First, he needed to let Stannis know everything so that he could prepare and bring his army to King’s Landing. After all, Dragonstone was not so far away. He wrote a note detailing Robert’s accident and the secret to Joffrey’s heritage, naming him the true heir to the throne and gave it to one of his men, instructing him to not leave the message with anyone other than Stannis himself. 
Then, he called Petyr Baelish to a meeting. 
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Lord Stark?” he asked. 
“Robert has no true born sons; Stannis is his heir.”
Baelish walked to the window and looked out, placing his arms behind his back. “So it would seem - unless...”
“There is no unless. Stannis is the true heir.”
“It would be in your best interest to make sure Joffrey succeeds.”
“What you suggest is -”
“Make peace with the Lannisters, make your wife release the imp, get rid of Stannis and wed Sansa to Joffrey. Once Joffrey’s in the throne, he’s bound to cause trouble and we reveal that he’s a bastard and seat Renly there instead.”
“How can you suggest I make peace with my enemies?” Ned said, setting the dagger used in Bran’s attack on his desk.
“We only make peace with our enemies, that is why it’s called making peace.”
“I will not.” 
“Why did you call me here today? Not for my wisdom, I see.”
“You promised Catelyn you would help me. The Queen has a dozen knights and a hundred men at arms, enough to overwhelm what remains of my household guard. I need the gold cloaks, the city guard is two thousand strong and sworn to defend the King’s peace.”
“When The Hand proclaims one King and the Queen proclaims another, whose peace do the Gold Cloaks protect? Who do they follow?” Lord Baelish smiled. “The man that pays them.”
--
The following morning, as soon as he set a foot out of bed, there was a knock on the door. “Lord Stark?” said the voice on the other side. 
“Yes?”
“King Joffrey has summoned you to the Throne Room.” 
“King Joffrey?” He frowned. 
“I’m afraid King Robert has passed. The Gods gave him peace.” 
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Ned buried his face in his hands. He knew it was coming, the death of his best friend. He mourned the loss, not of the drunk King he had come to know as of recent but of the boy that grew up with him, the man who led him into war to fight for what was right. The man who tried his best to avenge Lyanna’s death even though he didn’t know... 
But there was no time for mourning. The future of his entire family, of The Realm, depended on his next moves. Thankfully, he had taken precautions and had someone on his side.
When he finally opened he found Varys and Baelish standing there. 
“We thought you may have gotten lost,” said Varys. 
Ned shook his head. “Will Renly be joining us?” 
“I’m afraid Lord Renly was last seen heading south. He crossed the old gate an hour before dawn along with Loras Tyrell and fifty armed men.”
Of course, he had run to Highgarden with his tail between his legs, knowing the Tyrells could give him anything he wanted to claim the throne. 
“Shall we?” Asked Baelish with a half-smile. 
Nodding, Ned walked with them, his guards close behind even as they entered the Throne Room. 
Joffrey sat on the Iron throne, Pycelle on his left and his mother on his right. The Gold Cloaks stood between the throne and everyone else, forming a protective barrier. 
“Lord Stark, good. I want the arrangements made for my coronation. I want it to be done within the fortnight. I am now taking a vow of fealty from the council.”
“Ser Barristan, you are a man of honour, I have no doubt. Here is King Robert’s last will.” 
The captain of the Gold Cloaks stepped forward and took the letter, examining it carefully. “It’s King Robert’s seal - unbroken. He named Lord Stark as Protector of The Realm until the heir comes of age.” 
“May I see it?” Asked Cersei. 
Ser Barristan gave her the letter.
“Is this your protection, Lord Stark? A piece of paper?” She tore the paper in half and let it fall to the ground. 
“But - Those are the King’s words!” said Ser Barristan.
“There’s a new King,” Cersei said with a smirk. “Once you gave me counsel, Lord Stark, so I will extend the same courtesy to you. Bend the knee and swear loyalty to my son. We will allow you to live out the rest of your days in that grey prison you like to call home.”
“Joffrey has no claim to the throne.” 
“Liar!” Joffrey yelled, nearly jumping from his seat with rage. 
“You are condemned by your own words, Lord Stark.”  
“Guards! Kill them! Kill all of them!” Joffrey yelled. “I command it!”
Ser Barristen stepped forward with hesitation. 
“Ser Barristan is a good man, an honourable man, do him no harm,” Ned said to his guards, hoping to call for clemency from the man in front of him. 
Ser Barristan stepped back and Ned nodded his thanks. “Commander of the City Guard! Take Queen Cersei and her children and put them in their rooms under guard without harming them.”
The guards unsheathed their swords and pointed them toward the Lannisters. 
“Now!” Said Petyr Baelish and the guards turned swiftly and massacred the Winterfell guards.
Before Ned could take his sword, he felt someone standing behind him and the blade of a knife against his throat. “I warned you not to trust me.”
Before he was dragged away to the dungeons under the charge of treason, Ned saw Varys quietly picking up the pieces of Robert’s letter and hiding them in his robes. 
DAN
Dan gladly took Phil’s offer to share his bed, mainly because he was tired, he felt dead on his feet - at least that’s what he told himself. The truth was that, perhaps, he did feel lonely and lost without his family; lost about how to save his father from the claws of a certain death. He was too weak to say no to Phil’s kind offer. 
At first he thought the other would have ulterior motives to invite him into his chambers but once the candles were off, Phil merely patted his arm and assured him everything would be alright. 
The next time Dan opened his eyes he was wrapped in Phil’s arms, resting his head on Phil’s shoulder, his nose firmly pressed against the man’s neck. He thought Phil to be asleep but when the door burst open and Phil didn’t even flinch he realised that had not been the case. Dan tried to pull away but Phil tightened his arms around him. “Stay. It’s alright,” Phil whispered. 
Renly rushed to the side of their bed, unfazed by the sight in front of him. “We must leave, now!” 
“Leave? Where to?” Phil asked.
“Highgarden. Robert is dead. Joffrey will take the throne and get all of our heads in silver platters come morning.”
Dan frowned. “Why would he do that?”
“For the same reason your father will lose his. Joffrey is not a Baratheon, nor are his siblings and the Lannisters will not stop until every single person who can uncover their dirty secret is dead. We leave now.” Renly sighed, shaking his head. “Stark, you should come with us. If you stay, I can’t protect you.”
“I want to help my father.”
“Your father would want you to help yourself. I know him. He wouldn’t want yet another of his children in danger. Come with us.”
Dan shook his head. He knew Renly was right, but he would rather die trying to save his family than live as a coward.
“I will stay with him,” Phil said, making the sense of absolute dread in Dan’s stomach loosen a bit. He had someone on his side, even though staying wasn’t the wisest choice and they both knew it. 
“If you are not on your horse in the next five minutes, Loras will have my head.” 
“Loras is not my owner. Tell him that I will stay to help Dan, and I will be safe; he knows I can take care of myself.”
Renly hesitated briefly, looking into Phil's eyes before patting his shoulder and nodding. He was startled when Balerion growled softly. “I - I did not hurt him.” 
Balerion watched him closely and walked over to sniff his hand and Phil’s shoulder before giving them both a lick. 
Phil patted Balerion’s fur absentmindedly before looking at Dan. “We need to leave. We will be caught here.”
“Where should we go?” He asked. They were about to leave the only safe place in King’s Landing he knew.
“If you still want to talk to your father you should do it now. Then we can stay in the outskirts near the bay. I know a place.” 
“Then it is settled,” Renly said. “I wish you well. Be safe and return to us soon.” He turned on his heels and left. 
“There’s someone I should speak to,” Dan said. It was time to see if his only contact in the Capital was good on his word. 
--
Dan put his hood up and tried to sneak around the red keep, trying to find him, looking after every Lannister soldier on patrol. Risking it all, he climbed the stairs, closer and closer to the Queen’s quarters and finally saw him, standing outside her door along with four other guards. 
He pressed his back to the wall and leaned over trying to catch his attention. He hoped the Old Gods were watching over him and this was not a mistake. Dan lifted his ring and reflected the first sun rays above the horizon aiming for Nathar’s face. He turned around swiftly. “Hey!” He said.
Dan’s eyes widened. He moved his hood back, showing his face for merely a second before sneaking behind the wall. He went down the stairs one floor and entered an empty room. Fortunately, he could still hear them talking. 
“What happened?” One of the guards asked.
“I need to go down to the barracks,” said Nathar. “I’ll be back shortly.”
“You know we can’t leave under any circumstances.”
“I ate at the tavern last night, if I stay…” Nathar said. 
“Ugh, go but if you need more than a few minutes, send someone to replace you. This is no time to be outnumbered.”
The sound of someone coming down the stairs made Dan’s breath catch. He opened the door wide enough to take a good look at the soldier, still unsure if this was the right thing to do. 
“Dan?” He whispered. 
Dan pulled the door open slowly and dragged him in before closing it softly and turning around. He was met with Nathar’s sad smile.
“What are you doing here?”
“I need to see my father. Can you take me to his chambers?”
“Dan… I -”
“Please.”
“He’s in the dungeons. He was charged with treason, Dan. The Lannisters expect him to repent and admit to various crimes in exchange for sparing his life and that of your sisters, but I know - they have no mercy. They will never let him leave with what he said in the Throne Room.”
Dan swallowed, his eyes welling up with tears. “Then you understand. I need to speak to him. It might be my last chance.”
Nathar nodded. “Follow me. Keep your head down.”
Dan nodded, a single tear rolling down his cheek. 
The path to the dungeons was long and they had to hide twice but they made it. Walking in the dark, in between the giant skulls of dragons that had terrorized Westeros centuries ago, somehow it felt safer. Perhaps it was the fact that he was close to his father at last, or -
Nathar pressed him to the wall and kissed him, desperately, letting his hands wander all over Dan’s body, making him gasp. In spite of the pain he felt, or perhaps because of it, Dan allowed himself to return the kiss for the briefest of moments. 
“Excuse me, this is not the right place to pursue such endeavours. This could have great consequences for you, I’m sure you know.”
Nathar pulled away from Dan and cleared his throat. “Pardon me, My Lord. We were just saying goodbye.” 
“Hmm. Yes, I see,” The man crossed his arms, his wide sleeves cascading delicately from his arms. Dan’s heart skipped a beat when the man looked him in the eye, recognition flashing in his face despite the fact that Dan didn’t know who he was. “Well - Who am I to step in the way of young love? Do see your companion out when you are done and return to your post, soldier.”
“Yes, Lord Varys. Thank you.” 
Lord Varys continued on his way before turning to them. “And - boy?”
“Yes?” Nathar croaked.
“Do make sure every prisoner is in their cell. One can never be too careful,” Varys smiled at them and left.
Nathar looked at him with pleading eyes. “My apologies, it was impulsive of me to kiss you like that but I knew we would be seen by someone.”
Dan nodded. “Thank you for helping me.”
“Come.” He led Dan to the cells and grabbed the keys from a hidden nook in the walls. He opened one of the doors and motioned him to go on. 
Dan entered his father’s cell and found him sitting on the ground, barely lifting his eyes to look at him. He looked like a shadow of his former self. “Father?!”
“Dan, what are you doing here?” He frowned, looking terrified. It was an expression Dan had only seen in his father’s face when one of his children was ill or in danger.
“I have someone helping. I - we need to hurry. I have a boat waiting for us. It’s a small fishing boat but it will do.”
“It’s too late. I can’t run from the truth or from my mistakes.” 
“You must! For your children!”
“Dan, I am so proud of you, I should have mentioned it sooner.” He pressed his hand to Dan’s cheek. “Tell your mother I love her and I’m sorry. I should have left when I had the chance.” 
“No, please! Come with me!”
He shook his head. “Get your sisters if you can, see that they are safe.”
“They will execute you.”
“I will try, but if I don’t return home, give this to Jon,” he pulled a necklace from inside his shirt and gave it to him. 
It had a wolf pendant with two holes instead of what Dan assumed should be stones for its eyes. “I don’t understand,” Dan said.
“It was his mother’s. I promised him - I’m afraid I won’t be able to keep my promise,” his father pulled Dan into a hug. “Don't make the same mistakes I did. Honour is good and should be upheld, but sometimes staying can risk everything. Remember that not everyone will hold their promises. I trusted someone  I shouldn’t have and now - I need to solve this or die trying so that the consequences of my actions don’t affect the rest of the family. Go.”
“I don’t want to say goodbye,” Dan said. 
“You must.” He removed his ring and gave it to Dan. “This is yours now. Protect your siblings as best as you can.”
“Father, please,” Dan said, his voice breaking. 
“Go. Live and make something good of this world. I’ll be watching.”
“Dan,” Nathar said from the door. “We need to leave.” 
“Thank you,” his father said to Nathar, who simply nodded. 
“I love you,” Dan said, hugging him tightly before running to the door. 
Nathar led him out through the sewers as voices became louder and louder in the dungeons. Once they made it to the bay, Nathar stopped him and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “I admire your family’s honour and bravery. Please, live a long and happy life.”
“I don’t understand -”
“I will try my best to help your sisters. Goodbye, Dan.”
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thedreadvampy · 3 years
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does Jonny know you're posting things about his personal life online where anyone can see them?
Ah yes wildly personal things such as 'Jonny has a personal life'
#go away from me please#like if I'm saying something that you really think is Exposing Something Personal then yeah that's shitty#I'm not though literally all I'm saying is 'some unidentified thing in this 200 ep podcast has commonalities with some real life event'#which. again. i feel you could probably guess that at least one (1) monster ghoul fear or horror has roots in a personal experience#because. that's how writing works#and for the record if you think you know what I'm talking about i promise you don't#because what i thought i recognised isn't on the nose it's entirely circumstantial and tangential#and maybe I'm right maybe I'm wrong#but besides saying 'Something Difficult Has Happened In Jonny's Life Ever' I'm not sure exactly how I'm ~spreading personal information~#literally all of us have had something shitty happen in our lives I'm?????#like when i say tangential i mean we're talking along the lines of a specific location or turn of phrase or mundane circumstance#not like HI MY NAME IS STEPHEN KING HERE'S MY 35TH STORY ABOUT HOW I'M VERY SCARED OF SPIDERS BECAUSE OF A SPIDERY CHILDHOOD TRAUMA#ok i swear it's a coincidence that that's exactly Jonathan Sims' backstory i just think King's spider thing is so hilariously overt#like he LITERALLY turns to the reader and says 'i#the author#am afraid of spiders that's why so many of my books involve spiders'#although also side note IS IT a coincidence that Jarchivist's deal is so King-y like we KNOW Jonny's referencing classic horror touchstones#is jonathan Jarchivist Sims just Author Insert Stephen King from DT?#oh dang GO THEN THERE ARE OTHER WORLDS THAN THESE#oh shit Jonny did you just write Dark Tower????#Annabelle cane is mordred I've cracked this thing wide open#what was i talking about? whatever
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traincat · 3 years
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I know the comic piracy debate is a never-ending cycle, but in India where I live, you can't get western comics (or manga for that matter). There aren't comic book stores. Sometimes on Amazon you can find collected editions worth more than INR 1000 at least, for the paperbacks. Most older collections, even from the early 2000s, will be upwards of INR 6000. And sure, it's because the exchange value is so low for Indian rupees, but that's still a LOT of money to Indian citizens. You can get digital editions of random odd issues for approx. INR 150, so that's there. But overall it's really a huge investment to buy a physical comic. So yes, I pirate. But I get so guilty when this debate rolls around, every time. I just don't see any other alternative.
I debated whether or not to answer this considering I haven't really addressed the comics piracy issue before so I'm not sure I'm the right account to talk about it, and also because my askbox is not a confessional and I am not a priest, but then some Spider-Man news broke that I feels ties into it this so whatever, we're going for it. The comics piracy debate comes up every couple of months and will probably continue to come up every couple of months until forever and all of these points have been stated before by others because nothing in this debate is new. First things first, you shouldn't feel guilty. I'm going to suggest actually that nobody should feel guilty, unless you are like, a millionaire and you're exclusively pirating indie books. The prices you're quoting are prohibitively expensive but I have some unfortunate news for everyone involved: the prices are really bad in the US, too. If you want good collected editions, especially in hardcover, they're going to run at similar if not quite equal prices. Comics have gone from a cheap hobby to an overwhelmingly expensive hobby.
This is a good article comparing to the cover costs of American comics since the 1960s adjusted for inflation which I think puts some things in perspective. Comics currently cost roughly $5 USD per issue, which doesn't sound that bad, even though most of my monthly streaming services are roughly that price for a whole month's access to a library of content. But it only doesn't sound that bad if you're not buying special issues (the Marvel Pride book retailed for $10), and if you're only reading one or two books a month. The problem is, American superhero comics are specifically designed so you're not reading just one or two books per month -- this is why we have events! And crossovers! Not for the story potential but because it forces the consumer to purchase more product. This is why there's constantly an event running with a checklist of tie-in issues in the back. So now you're spending probably at least $20 a month. If you're a fan with a lot of interest in different titles, and in different publishers, this can easily hit triple USD digits. It's a money pit. It's not affordable to most people. And this is where that new Spider-Man news comes in, because it was announced today that Amazing Spider-Man is going back to a thrice monthly schedule like it used to operate on during Brand New Day. Which sounds good at first -- more comics, yay -- until you realize that's probably going to be $15 USD a month for a one title. That's $180 a year for one title, not including annuals or special issues. That's not feasible for a lot of fans -- young fans, poor fans, fans with other financial obligations etc. And most people aren't reading just one title. I don't know how the X-Men fans are currently financing their Krakoa habit and I'm afraid to ask. There are services like Marvel Unlimited, which make things slightly more affordable, but I imagine the wait for newer issues to hit the service can be alienating for some fans who want to join in current discussions, the library has some incredibly massive holes in it which is unacceptable when it's coming from inside the mouse house, and I believe, although I could be wrong, that it is not available in all countries. Comics are no longer an easily accessible hobby, if you're paying for everything you read.
"But the creatives deserve to get paid" is the common argument and yeah, they do, I'm not arguing that point. They should absolutely get paid and they should get well. I'm a writer, I'm a published writer even, and I want to be a published novelist, and I definitely want to get paid, and I'm reserving the right to be a complete hypocrite about this, as I do with everything in my life, but this is where the difference between indie publications and Marvel publications comes in: Marvel is owned by Disney. There is absolutely no excuse for Disney not to pay their creatives. If they are not getting paid fairly, it's not because you pirated a book -- it's because Disney has a vested interest in not paying their creators, as evidenced by Alan Dean Foster's lawsuit claiming that they are withholding royalties from him. Fans pirating these books are not the reason the creatives are not getting paid fairly -- the creatives are not getting paid fairly for the same reason that Disney park employees experience homelessness, and it's because Disney would rather put that money into the pockets of their executives. There is no debate on that subject. It's easier and perhaps more convenient to blame fans for pirating comics rather than putting all of their money into what has been for years now a prohibitively expensive hobby to keep up with, but the fact of the matter is Disney could pay all of their creatives what they're worth without hurting their bottom line and instead chooses not to. That is not on you, as an individual reader. You have no reason to feel guilty about that, no matter what your circumstances are, and you do not have to justify your actions to either me or the House of the Mouse. I'm with you, and Disney ultimately doesn't care. They're making that money up elsewhere and then not distributing it fairly to the people who create the properties their media empire is built off of. But especially if you're buying older books, you should know that your money is not going to the creative team -- once it's out of publication, they're not going to get any of the money you spent on it. The argument then becomes that you should be supporting local comics stores which yes, is true, but also doesn't apply to everyone, like anon who doesn't have access to local comic book stores. And again, this can become prohibitively expensive -- collections are expensive. Older, hard to find collections can be very expensive. Once something is out of print, all bets are off on what it might be selling for. Buying single issues is only affordable if the single issue isn't desirable or sometimes if it's in exceedingly bad condition. For the sake of transparency, I have a fairly big single issue collection because it's my preferred format, but I had the time to bargain hunt, access to local comic book stores and large comic conventions, and I'm very good at sniping eBay auctions. The most I have ever dropped on a single issue was expensive for me -- and still under three digits USD -- and it's for an issue from the '60s that is not in great condition.
The problem with this debate is that it is generally a nuanced issue that always gets boiled down to "piracy bad" in a way that makes a lot of well meaning and well intentioned fans, especially the ones with extenuating circumstances, feel bad. It's not your fault. You shouldn't feel guilty. There are a huge amount of reasons why someone might pirate something that are not bad reasons and do not make you a bad person who is personally withholding money from the creators -- because you're not. I don't publicly tell people where to pirate comics, mostly because I really don't think it's that hard to find out for yourselves especially because several creators involved with Marvel themselves have, I suspect accidentally, posted pages of their work to social media WITH THE BANNER OF A WELL KNOWN COMICS PIRACY SITE STILL IN THE IMAGE please learn how to crop, so maybe my standpoint on the issue wasn't well known, but there it is. I think readers should, if they are able to financially and otherwise, support the creators they like, but that it should be acknowledged that this is a more complicated issue than it's commonly made out to be on Twitter and that the largest part of the blame needs to be put on the companies making these comics inaccessible to many and who refuse to pay their creators fairly, not on individual fans. Don't feel guilty, anon.
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Hey Roman, Logan! Side note: we just found out you guys are Fate Touched. So. That explains quite a bit. Ask her radiance if you wanna know more :) - 🗡
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      ”So I can assume you already know about Virgil's situation?" Logan asks, frowning slightly as he tries to puzzle out what all he should say in this situation. Goddess or not, he's not sure if it's safe to tell her the extent of what he's seen…
      Eilistraee nods, "I know about his Sorcery. —Do not worry, Logan. I wouldn't tell the Sisters or their cults unless I had to. If I was planning on handing him over to be executed by the Gods, I would not have helped you save him."
      Logan finds himself believing her. But, before he can let the existential dread of what they’re discussing — Which amounts, most probably, to interplanar treason — settle in, he has to comment,
      "I don't remember telling you my name."
      Eilistraee smiles at that, like she knows something he doesn't. Which, Logan will reluctantly admit, is possible in this specific circumstance.
      "Virgil has told me about each of you. —And, of course, you and I are already acquainted." She smiles at Roman, who nods. 
      "I hope you aren't insulted that I haven't visited in… over a century?"
      "We were both busy~" She teases, as if a century is anything to a Goddess. 
      "I'm not sure what is going on." Logan admits, getting them back on track once he's come to terms with the fact that he is, in fact, doing this.
      "By all means, almost everything I've seen him do over these past few days should be impossible. He's wielded Mythal magic, changed the flow of time, and experienced more frequent Wild Surges than any wild magic Sorcerer I have ever heard of. I thought, initially, that he had been born with the power... But, if those spell-scars are any indication, he was not. Still, I've never seen spellscars of that shape or size."
      "And they're angrier than before!" Roman cuts in, "I had seen his arm under those bandages a few nights ago, and they didn't look nearly that bad. But we didn't encounter any wild magic between then and now, so I don't know how they could have gotten worse…?"
      "Virgil's current power is not something he was born with, that much is true." Eilistraee nods, "He was born with magic latent within him, but he purposefully pushed it down and ignored it. What he can do now stemmed from a disastrous encounter with Nethermancy, in which he was mutated by the Far Realm."
      Roman and Logan gasp, and Patton is hopelessly confused. He looks between the three spellcasters in the room, hoping one of them remembers that he is but a regular, mundane person.
      "...Ne...cro...mancy?"
      "No, Nether. Dark Magic." Roman stage-whispers, looking frightened. 
      Well, that clarifies nothing at all, Patton frowns, then turns to Logan,
      "Lo, you didn't mention that one the other day. I thought you said there were only eight?"
      “That is because Nethermancy no longer exists." Logan frowns. Eilistraee sighs and shakes her head,
      "As most things you will find tend to be… That is not entirely true. You know your magic comes from the Weave, yes?"
      All three of them nod at that, and Patton knows the beginning of a lecture when he hears one. He tries his best to keep listening as Eilistraee continues,
      "You can visualize the Weave as a spiderweb. Many threads tangle together to form it, more densely interconnected in some areas and more sparse in others. When you cast a spell, you are plucking on the web. Lesser tricks only jostle one string, while great feats of magic pull on the points where many threads are connected.” 
      "So, the less strings we pull, the lower the spell's level?" Roman muses. She nods.
      “Mystra is the spider who sits at the center, building and repairing the web, feeling the vibrations of all those who touch it and biting away those who pull too hard. After all, if you pull too harshly, the web will unravel… But the web is not the source of magic in the Universe. It is just where you mortals can syphon it from. Magic is something that has always existed, long before the gods, and will continue long after us.”
      Logan nods, "The early humanoids who tried to hone magic before the Weave was woven were all destroyed, and turned into the first liches."
      "So Mystra, with some help from my Father, created the Weave as a blanket." Eilistraee smiles, "A safety net, that holds raw power back and converts it into something manageable -- something mortals can access."
      Logan smirks, “Which is why Elves were the first humanoids to master magic. They had an insider.” 
      "So like a sieve? For flour?" Patton asks, and the goddess grins at the visual. Logan nods, almost impulsively taking over the lesson,
      "Sure. Now, imagine pulling a wire on that sieve out of place. There is a hole for more coarse clumps to fall through, yes?” Patton nods, and Logan smiles at him, “That is what we are doing when we cast spells. When you pull on a thread, a bit of this raw power seeps through, but the gap only releases as much as that thread once covered. The less you ask for, the less you will receive. And if you don’t cast a spell correctly, the thread isn’t pulled at all, and no magic happens.”
      ...Now Logan frowns, beginning to catch on to Eilistraee’s point.
      "But, Nethermancy was not like that.” Logan muses aloud, “It stemmed from the Shadow Weave; the warped copy of the Weave Mystra's sister Shar invented, by mixing magic with corruption from the Far Realm."
      "The Shadow Weave is the space in-between the windows in the spiderweb. The darkness between the threads. Hence, it's name." Eilistraee explains, "When you reach into it, there is nothing to decide how much you take out. And, since you have not disturbed the strings, Mystra cannot even sense that you’re there. It is lethal to reach your hand into raw magic like this, in the same way it was lethal to cast before the Weave was constructed."
      "Which is why it was never active." Logan adds, cautiously, waiting for her to correct him. "Supposedly, the Blue Flame burned it out during the Spellplague, before it's creator ever used it. Or, so everyone was led to believe…?"
      Eilistraee nods, "The Shadow Weave was never destroyed. Shar lost control of it, but it still exists alongside the original. A spiderweb without a spider... And, by now, you are aware that my brother's kin do not follow the same rules when it comes to the lethality of raw magic."
      "So, he was exposed to this Shadow Weave somehow, and now he keeps tapping into it on accident?" Roman frowns.
      "Yes. Without either Sister Goddess's influence to limit him, Virgil has tethered himself to the spaces between. Now he pulls at it without trying, weakening the weave around him and accessing magic Mystra outlawed decades ago."
      Eilistraee turns to Logan, suddenly very serious, 
      "You've done well to teach him control, but it is still something he will have to learn. He is the only thing moderating his contact with raw magic. He has no safety net to protect him if he takes too much, and no way to stop himself from doing it. This is not your usual pupil whose spell will fizzle out if they fail, his will combust. He must learn to hone his ability."
      "I can teach him." Logan nods resolutely, already determined to see this through to the end. Eilistraee frowns. 
      "There are already many in your world who know about his mutation. Many wish to use him as a weapon on a scale you cannot imagine, and many more wish to destroy him altogether. People who will show no mercy when they come for him, and anyone who would protect him.” 
      Eilistraee turns to address all three of them, making an imposing figure where she towers in the middle of the room, 
      “You will face more peril at his side than you have ever read about in your history books, and his powers will bring untold destruction if you fail. Are you so sure you wish to involve yourself in this?"
      "You'll find I already have." Logan stares her down, hoping he is more stubborn than she is, "I am not going to give up on him now. I knew it was going to be difficult when I first asked him to join me."
      (So, that might be a little white lie. He didn’t know it would be so difficult that a literal Goddess would warn him to pack up and go home, but… Well, no one is going to tear him away from a project he’s already started, nor a friend who needs his help. And, after all, Logan doesn’t know anyone more qualified than himself to teach Virgil how to use magic.)
      Eilistraee seems to mull over his words for a moment. Roman and Patton are keeping quiet, either letting Logan speak for them as the group’s leader or too exhausted/shocked to say anything.
      ...And, after an excruciating several minutes, the Goddess smiles.
      "Very well then. I entrust his safety to you, Professor Logan." Eilistraee — the Goddess. What is today?! — smiles, as if as amused by the situation as Logan is winded by it. 
      "Don't fail him."
      "We won't!" Patton cheers, elbowing Logan's thigh to shake him out of his surprised stupor. Eilistraee grins.
      "We?"
      "Yep! We're a bit of a package deal~" Roman nods, smiling at the other two. "And, I mean... if Logan goes on some sort of super perilous adventure and doesn't invite his resident literal Celestial, I don't even know what I would have to do! The sheer disrespect? I would throw a fit." 
      "You are both cordially invited to the 'super perilous adventure.'” Logan rolls his eyes, “Not that either of you ever need an invitation to insert yourselves into my travels..." 
      Logan tries his best not to smile, ignoring their laughter at either side of him.
      "You will need more than just the three of you, I'm afraid." Eilistraee smiles, 
      "I have full confidence in you, but the fact remains that Virgil will also need a mentor who is, themselves, a Sorcerer. There are some skills that can only be taught from experience."
      "Where are we supposed to find another Sorcerer?! It's rare enough that we found the one!" Roman whines, making Eilistraee grins.
      "You are willing to aid a man you just met last week in a plot against the natural order, but you don’t think you can find one measly sorcerer?”
      “Those are two totally different tasks! —Protecting people is my very specific skillset!! Finding them is not my job!” Roman blushes and pouts, and Eilistraee downright laughs. She shakes her head,
      “Oh, I was just teasing, d'anthe~ Don't worry: I think he will find you, soon enough." 
      Eilistrae lays a hand on Roman’s cheek, “And speaking of you... I sense something is troubling you?”
      Roman frowns for a moment. He sends an uneasy look at Logan and Patton...then sighs. 
      (If they’re all getting involved in Virgil’s surprise cosmic destiny, he supposes he might as well let them in on his…)
      “It’s my Mother.” Roman sighs, 
      “I know she’s been ailing for a long while now, but… Something’s happened to her while I was gone, I can feel it. Something’s wrong. But my powers don’t seem to have changed at all, so...I can’t really tell.”
      Eilistraee frowns, and Roman hops in again before she can speak, “I-I would contact her, but she still can’t speak to me! I don’t know how I’m supposed to help! I assume Mama has more information once we get to town, but it’s been killing me to wait in the dark. I know there are rules about how much you can meddle, but… Throw me a bone here?”
      That gives the Goddess pause. She seems to debate something for a moment… Then nods.
      “I can lend my aid to you for tonight, so long as you remain on land under my blessing. But, Sune is still in a very weakened state... Expect one of your Dreams tonight, little Prince.”
      Roman smiles softly, trying to mask his spark of disappointment.
      “...Thank you. Anything is better than no contact! But… I was never very good at deciphering those things.”
      “If you need help deciphering your visions, you can always ask one of my Dark Ladies, or one of your Heartwarders. But, your Mother is a goddess of emotion; It is unlikely any of them will be able to help you more than yourself…” 
      Eilistraee gives him a sympathetic smile, “...Or, maybe, your usual companion in that place?”
      “I doubt that.” Roman smiles back, more amused than he is dejected. 
      “It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a dream with my brother. I’m starting to think he’s purposefully ignoring them… And, to be honest, I wouldn’t put that past him.”
      “That may be so, but you two must reunite soon.” Eilistraee warns him with an unexpected sincerity, “Your Mother needs you both, now more than ever. You are aware that your Fate is joined with these three, but he has a part to play in all of this, too. He always has.”
      “My conversations with the whispers always seem to stem back to him, that much is for sure!” Roman grumbles, to himself more than anything. Eilistraee pats his shoulder.
      “The guards will lead you back to House De’anonen. The road ahead of you is long and perilous, and I don’t expect to be the last to tell you so… Now, get some rest!” 
      Roman nods, much too tired to argue on that point. Some young women in silver robes come to lead them out of the temple, and Roman and Patton meander after them out of the room. Logan follows behind them slowly... But, he pauses at the door. 
      He turns back to Eilistraee, and asks lowly, 
      “Nethermancy from the Far Realm…” he hums, still not quite sure what he’s trying to remember when he asks,
      “That he encountered here? Outside of the Underdark?”
      ...Eilistrae doesn’t answer right away. 
      A sour look crosses her face for a moment. She sighs,
      “Your curiosity is your greatest strength, Logan. It always has been.” She smiles, turning her back to him to exit the room through the farther door, “But you, of all people, should know that poking at what writhes in the grass is a dangerous game.”
      She walks out of the room, her voice echoing behind her as she disappears down a long, shadowy hallway, 
      “Be sure you are prepared for what’s hiding there.”
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Ask 97     ( @sjrose1217 , @snowydragon10 , @amazonprimebox )
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Eilistraee makes her exit as the party gets ready to sleep for the night, with few hours of night remaining and little energy to keep their eyes open any longer.
Now they have some hints for what is to come, but will they be able to put the pieces together? Or will the dangers she warned them about get the better of them...?
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Survey #350
“let’s play a love game, play a love game  /  do you want love, or you want fame?  /  are you in the game?”
Who was your first good kiss with? Jason. Would you kiss this person again? I know I fucking would and I hate it more than I could possibly express. Name something that is on your bedroom wall? Lots of artwork, mostly of meerkats. What accessory do you want in your bedroom? I need another desk to put stuff on. If you could paint your walls any color what would it be? Something pastel. Maybe like, peach. Soft and warm and would really bring light to the room. What does your phone case look like? It's just this boring purple one that came with the phone. What do you take the most pictures of? My camera roll says my pets, hahaha. What is the point of Twitter for you? Liking Mark's shit lmao. What does your planner look like? I don’t have one. If you get into an argument what is it usually about? My anxiety, I think. What are you always in the mood for? Ummm probably a car ride where I can control the music in the passenger seat. It is very, very rare I'll turn that opportunity down. What’s the last emergency you dealt with? I don't really know; I'm thankfully not in these situations very much, especially when you're cooped up at home. I probably haven't been actually engaged in an emergency since I had to call 911 for my mom before she found out about her cancer. She was basically immobile from agony in her abdomen. Do you have a son? I'm perfectly happy without a son, or kids period. Are you married? No. Have you ever worn a suit? I haven't. Have you ever had to call 911? Twice for Mom. How many keys are on your key-ring? Just one for the house. What’s the last thing you created? An RP post would count as art creation, I'd say. Who are your closest friends? Sara, Girt, and uh... Well, they might be it as far as friends I consider truly close to me. I have a few other people I consider good friends, but we're just not like... on that "close" level, you know? Lisa is maybe another, and Lyndsey perhaps, both WoW friends. Are you ready to have a family? I hate that "have a family" tends to mean get married and have kids, which I'm guessing is what you're implying. If that's the case, no, given I don't want kids and am not fit to get married right now. I'm not even with anyone. I'm content right now with just living with my mom and my two pets, who are children well enough to me. Have you ever taken a DNA test? No. Do you have a family cemetery? No. Would you say you have a high sex drive or not so much? *shrugs* I think it's pretty normal. How do you feel about swallowing pills? What do you mean how do I "feel" about it? I just do it if I need to. What animal is the scariest in your opinion? Some kind of bug, probably. Giant centipedes creep me the fuck out, for one, and I've heard their bite is incredibly painful. I've also always been very afraid of Australia's funnel web spiders since watching some show on Animal Planet when I was younger; I think it scarred me for life, aha. And let's not forget the murder hornets. No thnx, rather die. :') Have you ever questioned your sanity? Way more than once, my friend. How do you feel about people wearing fur coats? Are you for or against it? I am VIOLENTLY against it unless it is for survival in extreme climates and you don't have access to other material. That aside, there is NO way you could possibly convince me that it's okay to wear the fur of something once living on yourself for ~fashion~. What’s the worst thing a friend has either done or said to you? Let's not go here. What’s fake about you? Like extensions, fake nails, botox etc. Nothing. If you got the chance, would you audition for a reality show? No. Have you ever gotten into a Facebook fight? Haha, yeah. Favorite flavor of jelly bean? Probably watermelon or strawberry. I'm not a massive jellybean fan. Do you use Tinder? If yes, have you ever met up with someone you matched? I've never tried it, no. What book/movie has made you cry the hardest? Either The Notebook or Titanic. Something you feared as a kid but don’t anymore? Thunderstorms. What’s your skincare routine? I don't really have one. Just wash it with water in the shower and then use a washcloth when I feel the need. Would you rather have a snake or a tarantula as a pet? I want both, but I prefer snakes. What is something you are NOT looking forward to? I both am and am not looking forward to my second Covid vaccine because it's notoriously worse than the first; the only bright side to it is that after the potential side effects blow over, I'm job hunting. What do you usually do right when you wake up? Check the time on my phone. Would you rather eat your pizza cold or hot? Hot, but I like both. Who taught you how to swim? Dad, I think? Can you do push-ups? No. Do you like Doritos? Yesssss. Who is the closest friend that you live by? I don't know. Have you ever banged your head against something? I've had two concussions before, so, y'know. Have you ever jumped on a trampoline? Yeah, I loved that as a kid. Do you like watching scary movies? Yeah. Has anyone ever told you that you have a big butt? No, considering I have like no ass, rip. Has one of your friends ever tried to "hook you up?" Ugh, yes. Do you prefer landmarks or street names when being given directions? Landmarks, by a mile. Although, I'm super bad with directions, so it probably wouldn't really matter much. Do you read the prologues in the beginnings of books? Yeah, you got to. Does your house have more than one fireplace? No. What was your favourite gym class moment? The one and only thing I liked about gym as a kid was when you took one of those rainbow tarps and made like, an air bubble underneath to make this awesome dome everyone sat in. Ya missed out if you didn't do that. Do you think that ocean boardwalks are fun? Yeah. Do you dread when people ask you to sign their yearbooks? Not at all; I was always flattered, knowing they cared enough to want mine. Apple Jacks: yay or nay? I looove those. Do you have a favorite Scooby-Doo movie? Haha yeah, I think it's the second one? Such iconic scenes. It's the one with the Mary Jane girl that Shaggy liked... oh, jokes that went over your head as a kid. Who were your last 3 Facebook messages from and what do they say? I'm too lazy to list the convos themselves, but the people involved are my friends Chelsea and Ian, as well as a friend's mother. Do you turn your phone off at night when you go to sleep? No. It's always on vibrate, and I just turn the brightness way down. What is the sexual orientation of the last person you talked to? She's straight. What’s your favourite hairstyle on the opposite sex? Don't you fucking dare laugh, emo hair is A++. Has anyone ever played a prank on you? What happened? Not a big one, no. Do you like the Silent Hill movies? Do I?! I love the first one (though for a while I wasn't very happy they swapped the lead role from Harry to his wife), and while the second is literal trash story-wise and it's ALL over the damn place, I still enjoy it with just how much I adore SH as a whole. What movie scared you the most out of any other movies? The Rite, because the concept of being raped and impregnated by a demon is fucking horrifying to me. Have you ever wanted to be on American Idol? When was this? Nah. Name 5 things you don’t believe in. 1.) "Everything happens for a reason;" 2.) karma; 3.) destiny/fate; 4.) psychics, fortune tellers, all that; and 5.) luck, at least in the sense of someone having set "good" or "bad" luck. If you could have any friend that you’ve lost back, who would you pick? Probably Megan. If you have pets, who normally puts food and water in their dish? Me for both of them. Do you organize the pictures on your computer into different folders or are they all just under “My Pictures”? I have folders. Do you think if someone is in a relationship, that it is acceptable to have sleepovers with other people of their preferred sex? Eh, nah, that feels a bit far to me. I am very firmly for friends still being able to hang out even if they're each other's preferred gender, but a sleepover sounds a bit too intimate, even without sharing a bed. Would you shoot a gun if given the chance? If you’ve shot a gun before, how many different types of guns have you shot? No. I'm very intimidated by guns and nearly shook when I merely handed a friend his (not for anything bad, he just carried it with him when he goes out), and I've got noooo plans of holding one again unless my life depends on it. Do you feel uncomfortable sharing things like artwork or poetry you’ve written? Is it because you don’t think it’s good enough to show off or because it’s too personal? You. Have. Zero. Idea. It's for both reasons, and it's far more severe in person. Online, I actually don't mind much, oddly enough... I can't quite pin down why. Do you have any siblings you absolutely despise? Why do you despise them? No. Do knives scare you? Is it from watching scary movies? Knives scare me like five times more than guns. Scary movies have nothing to do with it, though. They're just so sharp and the idea of being stabbed by one is terrifying. As someone with a history of self-mutilation too (not with knives, but I've thought about it and once planned to slit my throat with one, but Mom stopped me), they just make me incredibly uncomfortable to the point I can barely hold a "real" knife to just slice food. Have you ever climbed a chain-link fence? Many times. What is your LEAST favorite Disney animated movie? That I've seen, uhhhhh... I don't know man, there are way too many Disney movies lmao. Who was the last person’s house you went to besides your own? My sister's. On YouTube, who are two people you find hilarious? I'm just counting GameGrumps as one, and then you can't forget Shane Dawson, regardless of the controversy. He probably made me laugh more than any other YouTuber. Do you shave your pits? Yeah. Do you know anyone who has been on life support, and survived? I don't think so. Besides the USA, what is your favorite country? I'm not nearly informed enough about foreign countries' politics and laws and mannerisms to have a favorite. Would you rather go to Europe or Asia? Europe. Would you rather go to Africa or Australia? Africa. Would you rather go to Mexico or Canada? Canada. Do you think emo/scene hair is attractive? I love emo and scene hair, don't @ me, it's cute as fuck. Have you ever seen a ghost orb picture? Lots, actually, at one of my old houses that I totally know was haunted. Do you think abortion should be illegal? NO. You would NOT end abortions. You would end SAFE abortions. Do any of your pets have strange habits? Explain? Venus, my ball python, is extremely odd with food to the point I sometimes worry about her, but she's always been this way and is healthy, so I guess it's nothing really worth fretting over. Anyway, when I place her rat in her terrarium, she gets excited first and will pretty much frantically examine her surroundings, like slithering around everywhere, and even when she has clearly found the rat (she'll even prod it with her snout), she usually won't immediately eat. She just like... sits there and has to continue to verify for ten minutes that it's food. I know it's thawed perfectly, btw. So anyway, THAT'S weird... As for Roman, dear god, that cat's just weird, lmao. Especially in the morning, he's very hyper and will bolt around the house sometimes, he "plays" with nothing all the time, he "meerkat"s at nothing that I can nothing, etc. etc. etc. He's a weirdo lol. Have you ever told an extremely inappropriate joke? Oh god, I said something really inapprops once when my friend Chelsea startled me. I won't be repeating it lmao. Who in life have you felt the strongest need to protect? Sara, I think. Who have you most feared in your life? My dad. He doesn't scare me anymore, but he did. What was the quickest friendship you ever made? Oh idk. What is the worst word anyone ever used to describe you? "Martyr." And not the kind that dies for their beliefs. It hurt me so badly to know someone thought of me that way, and I'll probably never let it go. If you have any pets, were they adopted from the humane society? No. Roman is one of the billion kittens born to the cats my sister's in-laws have, and Venus is from a ball python breeding business in Florida called The Gourmet Rodent (they sell f/t rodents too, obvs) Do you like home design, like picking out paint colors and furniture? Not really. My grandmother though, whew, that was her calling for sure. Have you seen any of the old James Bond movies? Nope. List all of your features that you have ever gotten compliments on: My hair, my eyes, my tattoos, my hands, I think my nose, my dimples, my smile, and my boobs lmao. Have you ever been in a hot air balloon? And if not, would you ever want to go in one? I haven't. I think it'd be kinda cool, but they seem too easy to fall out of, and I'm afraid of heights. I'd probably go in one if given the opportunity. Do you have any stains on your shirt currently? No, but there are two small rips. It's just an old tank top. Do you listen to local bands? No. Not that I'm opposed, I just don't know of any I really enjoy. Do you watch YouTube videos often? Many, many daily. Do your parents fight? Do they even talk at all? They're divorced; they used to fight a lot when they were together. Now they only talk if they have reason to. Have you ever watched a movie that's in a complete different language, so you had to read sub-titles? No. Do people with yellow teeth disgust you? Dude, fuck off, no. My teeth are kinda yellow, and I'm extremely self-conscious about it, so seriously fuck this question. You never know for sure why someone's teeth may seem yellowish. Do you drink alcohol on New Year’s Eve? Usually a drink or two. Do you wear rings? I always have two on, yeah. Are you hungry right now? No, I literally just ate a breakfast bowl. Have you ever tried smoking a cigarette? No; I haven't the slightest interest in doing so.
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mirkwoodshewolf · 4 years
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Ice Queen sister; Peter Parker x twin sis reader
*Author’s note*
OKay so I’m gonna stop messing around and move some more stories that I have on my wattpad account onto here. I promised you all that I would move some more Peter Parker fanfics I had but I was either too busy or lazy to do so, but in light of the quarantine, I’m finally getting off my lazy ass to finally move them to here so that you all could see them. This was written god I wanna say 2 years ago so here are some serious warnings here:
Warnings: murder (Uncle Ben’s death), HINTS OF SEXUAL ASSAULT/RAPE (NO DETAILS BUT MENTIONS OF IT. If it makes you uncomfortable, just be warned but like I said there’s no scene of it being done, just mentioned), violence, and a stab at the police system.
I hope you all enjoy this fic and I promise the next Peter Parker fic I’ve got for you guys will be fluffier than this one.
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Taglist:
@waddles03​
@psychosupernatural​
@plethora-of-things​
@ixchel-9275​
@platawnic​
@jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels​
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Spiderman was holding a girl in his arms, unfortunately the girl was bleeding immensely from her side and he refused to let her go even once. But he had an even bigger problem since the criminal before them now held a gun in his hand and aimed it right at Peter's head. How did they get into a situation like this, well that in itself is a long story.
Many of you believe that Peter Parker was an only child right? Well you're wrong, I am his twin sister, his older twin by 12 minutes. My name is (Y/n) Parker and I've always been different from the moment my life turned to darkness or should I say coldness.
I don't know when it first happened, maybe after Peter and I had learned when our parents died in a plane crash but all I remember was feeling so cold that I had to be taken to the hospital and be put in the Intensive care unit for over a week till my body temperature got back to normal before Peter and I went to live with our Aunt May and Uncle Ben.
Then that car-jacker murdered our uncle, and it was then I finally snapped. I remember going to an alleyway, letting out a piercing scream and all of a sudden an icy mist came out of my mouth and froze the entire alleyway. I also took notice that my long (n/h/c) had turned almost pale white, like snow.
Ever since that day, I had changed completely. My heart had become cold that night and I vowed vengeance against my uncle's killer.
From that day on I had called myself the "Ice Queen" and vowed to give the proper punishments for those with hearts as cold as ice. Prison wouldn't change the fact that these criminals would still be breathing while their victims were six feet under, so any cold blooded killers out there, you better pray you don't feel my cold wind at your neck.
To hide any suspicion from my Aunt and brother, I would use my magic to make my hair appear to be the usual (h/c) it's always been but when it comes time for me to "go out", the magic fades and my snow white hair comes out.
Once I became the "Ice Queen", I vowed to never involve May or Pete into it because if any of the crime lords found out I had a weakness in my ice cold heart.....I don't even want to think about what they would do to them. I refuse to lose anyone else in my family.
It was your typical after school day. Pete and I were walking home from school when he had gotten a text on his phone and he said.
"Ahh its Mr. Stark hey (y/n) can you tell May that Mr. Stark wants to see me".
"Of course Pete, just try to be home in time for dinner. I'm making my special Chinese dinner tonight".
"And miss the chance to eat your cooking I don't think so. Thanks (n/n) love you!" He pecked my cheek and he took off running.
Stark. Oh how that name made shivers run down my spine, and I don't mean in the good way. I had known of my twin brother's little secret of him being Spiderman. Oh he can fool May but he can't fool me, I'm his twin and we got a super power of our own and we can tell when the other is hiding something. That and I snooped through his room and happened to find his Spiderman suit (I have a right to do that as big sister it says so in the book).
But still it's no excuse that someone as big as Tony Stark came into our apartment asking for Peter for a "grant" that I knew he never applied for to suddenly go off to Germany and when he comes home, he has a black eye. That is unacceptable in my book, no one hurts my little brother or leads him into danger and gets away with it.
After arriving home, I went into my room and released my magic and my hair turned back into the snow white it had become nine months ago. My room was kept cold due to my powers but I didn't care, I lay on my bed and let out an icy sigh as the ceiling began to frost over.
I then turned to a picture of Tony Stark that I had taken from a newspaper and quickly made an ice shard out of my hand and threw it dead center at Stark's smug face.
"You dare bring my brother into danger, if I see another injury on him I'll make you suffer" I sneered coldly to the picture.
"(Y/n)? Peter? I'm home!" I heard Aunt May's voice ring out. I looked up at the ceiling and made the frost disappear, I also got rid of the ice shard as well as the picture and made my hair turn back to my normal hair color and cried out.
"Hey May!" I left my room and helped her put the groceries away and as I put the milk up she asked me.
"Is Peter with that Tony Stark again?"
"Oh yeah, supposedly Mr. Stark had texted him for another assignment, happened after we got done with school".
"Ahh I see, well can't say I'm a fan of him though. Always taking Peter out of his school time you know I had gotten a call from his principal about him sleeping in class again today".
"You and me both May, you and me both. But he said he'd be home in time for dinner, did you pick up what I needed?"
"Right here, when can you start?" She took out some of the ingredients that I needed.
"Well school was pretty exhausting but I can start cooking within an hour or so, just to allow me some time to rest up and recuperate after a long day".
"Understandable, come on I also have some other things to bring in since I made several errands today, mind helping me?"
"Of course". I followed her to the elevator and I helped her bring in the dry cleaning, some art supplies, and a new sewing kit. After a little rest for about an hour and a half I began preparing my delicious and famous Chinese meal.
By the time 6 o'clock struck, Aunt May and I prepared the food but Peter had yet to show up. As May and I sat down at the table and of course as a run of thumb in her house "No one eats until the whole family is here". I began to get a little antsy about Peter's wellbeing. After that Vulture incident I knew he was getting himself into more dangerous waters that only I knew about and did not want him to be involved in.
By the time it was almost 8pm, May decided that we should just pack it up and not let it go to waste so we cleared up the table and she said that she was going to get us take out while I cleaned the rest of the kitchen. All my hard work gone to waste, Peter promised me he would be here but no Stark once again kept him from being here with his family just so he could go off and put himself in more danger than he's ever had in his whole life.
I then heard the sound of a window opening, I revealed a small ice mirror into my hand and from the small bit of frost I had hidden in Peter's room to judge my suspicion on whether he was Spiderman or not, I saw him coming into his room in his Spider suit. I allowed the mirror to disappear and I tried to keep myself calm as I soon heard called out to Peter.
"Where have you been little brother?" I heard him muttering then he called out.
"I am so, so sorry (n/n) but Mr. Stark kept me in later than I had expected. I really did try to come home in time but you know how he is". I soon heard him walking into the kitchen as I now held the pot that held my Sweet and Sour pork.
"You know you could've called or at least had the decency of sending me a text before bailing out on my dinner".
"I am so sorry (y/n) you have to believe me you of all people need to believe me how hard I tried to come back home. Here why don't I cleanup since you spent hours making the meal". Now I didn't mean for it to happen but my cold, icy heart made me lift up the pot, turn to Peter and slam it right on the table spilling out everything as I growled at him.
"IS THIS ALL A GAME TO YOU!? I was frantic!"
"What are you talking about?" Peter asked with such fear in his eyes. Seeing him afraid of me I tried to calm myself out as my voice whispered and choked out.
"You Pete, alone. In the city at this time of night, I thought—thought someone had hurt you". Soullessly I turned to the table and began to gather up the pork and noodles in my fists as tears filled my eyes and I continued on with a quiver in my voice, "Like our parents.....Like—Uncle Ben".
"(Y/n) I'm fine. I promise I may not be the biggest or the strongest guy in our school, but I know how to outwit someone should they try anything, I promise you won't get a call from the police to ID my body. I refuse to do that to you and May, especially after.....well you know that night". I felt Peter hold me in his arms and I leaned my head against his chest feeling my twin's heartbeat telling me that he was alive and well until I looked up at him.
"Peter what happened to your eye?"
"What oh that umm—it was an accident. As I was getting something from the top of Mr. Stark's shelf, I accidentally slipped and the binder fell onto my eye thus creating this". Liar. I knew he was lying, someone did this to him and I'm going to find out who. Composing myself I stood up and told him.
"I'll get you an ice pack". I got out of his arms and walked towards the cabinet and took out a large bag then hiding behind the open freezer, I used my powers to fill the bag with ice then I grabbed a towel and wrapped the bag in the towel and handed it to Peter and he thanked me but I turned away from him and continued to clean up.
Outside we both heard the sound of police sirens and I stated soullessly out loud.
"This dreadful city we live in. The darker it gets, the more dangerous it becomes, someone outta do something about that don't you think?"
Aunt May had come in and we ate our Chinese takeout then we all decided to turn in for the night. Just as I was turned on my TV, there was a news update about a car chase that about had been going on for the past two hours with a suspect that police had been chasing down for six months but each time they try to catch him, he slips free and avoids capture. Well not this time.
My hair slowly turned white and my usual clothes turned into my Ice Queen armor. A chainmail like ice color dress with small ice sharps coming down from my neck to my lower abdomen. I also made my Ice Queen mask that covered my entire upper face so that no one would be able to see who I was. I levitated in the air and then took off flying with the wind towards the street the guy was last seen.
*Basically this dress but imagine it as an icy blue/white color and the mask is below. I do NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO THESE PICTURES!! THEY BELONG TO THEIR RIGHTFUL OWNERS!!*
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Police cars and sirens were lighting up the streets and their sirens piercing the Queens streets. The car they were chasing exhilarated as fast as I could until it slammed into the yard of an old abandoned warehouse and soon the driver got out as fast as he could and disappeared into the warehouse.
Inside the man held out his gun ready to fire at anything or anyone that would come out as he held his big sack of money that he had 'obtained' from the bank down on 14th street. Suddenly he heard a clank from behind him.
"Who's there!?" Frost began to form from the windows and being the completely paranoid thief he was, he fired at the window only to see nothing there. Soon he felt a cold nip at the back of his neck and he turned around so quickly he probably gave himself whiplash. "I'm not playing anymore! Come out before I pump you full of lead!"
A small trail of ice slowly crept up behind him then suddenly it shot out freezing his feet to the ground. He let out a cry and tried to fire at the ice but before he could pull the trigger, his gun became so cold he dropped the gun as he cried out in pain from the cold. He looked at his hand to see it was completely broken out and frost bitten from where the gun handle was.
"Metal and steel always attract the cold, didn't you ever watch Titanic and see what the iceberg did?" I then stepped out from the shadows and the guy already terrified. Like all my victims before him he pleaded for his life to be spared.
"You don't understand. I was framed! Just give me a chance. Just give me a chance!"
"You don't deserve that chance. Robbing a bank, suspected for over 20 murders and rapes in the last six months". I then gripped his face tightly in my hand and removed his ski mask and from the police search lights shined right on the guys face and my felt my cold exterior literally crumble to pieces.
This man was the one who killed Uncle Ben. How do I know it was him? Because I was there when it happened.
I was scheduled to meet with a couple of friends at the library for a podcast project for one of my classes, I wanted to walk there but Uncle Ben insist that he drive me there. He felt that it wasn't safe for me walking 7 blocks alone at night. I tried to reason with him that I would be fine but like the father figure he's been to me since our parents died, he didn't budge and I let him drive me to the library.
Just as I was about to get out, this man comes out of nowhere and asks for the car. As stubborn as he was, Uncle Ben refused then the man forced my Uncle out of the car and the two of them began to rumble a bit. I tried to help him but he shoved me off and then he got on top of me pinning me to the car before trying to take off my shirt.
Uncle Ben got him off me but that's when he pulled out a gun and shot Uncle Ben right in the heart. Traumatized from what almost happened and from what I just saw, I could only crawl up to Ben and the car-jacker drove off with my Uncle's car and Ben died right there in my arms. After police and ambulance came and wanted to check on me, that's when I left and went into that alleyway and my powers soon revealed themselves.
As I stared at this man with wide eyes I felt something inside of me just snap. I gripped his throat and allowed my hand to become so unbearably cold, it literally burned his skin. The man cried out in agony as I sneered at him.
"Do you remember what you did 9 months ago at the Public Library? You better remember like your life depended on it you bastard!"
"I don't....please......"
"Don't bullshit me damnit! Why don't you take a closer look at my face"? I then revealed myself under the mask and showed im who I was. I even used my magic to turn my hair brown so that way he'd remember who I was. As soon as he saw me, his face was all I needed to know. "I've been waiting a long time for this!" I sneered as my hair turned back to white and my eyes phased to soulless grey mist color.
I released his feet but kicked him in the ball then I formed an ice bow staff and began to repeatedly beat on the guy as hard as I could. With each blow, I growled louder and more animalistic until I raised the staff high in the air before bringing it down across him sending him to the wall. He coughed out blood and I stated again as I strutted towards him.
"That was just for all that you've done to the people of this city. For all the women you've raped, the people you've killed and the places you've robbed. But what I have for you killing my Uncle, will be slow. Intimately and you will know every ounce of pain you've caused me and my family that night when you pulled the trigger".
"Hate to break this lovefest up but I think the proper judges will give him what he deserves". I looked up to see my twin brother in his Spiderman outfit just chilling above the catwalk of the warehouse.
"This doesn't concern you Spiderman!" I sneered trying to get my brother out of this.
"Sorry to tell you this babe but it is my problem. Cause from where I'm standing if I was a cop and I saw this, I would arrest both of you right here and now. So let me take care of him while you go run and hide. Didn't you know the Accords has been imprisoning any stray super humans lately?"
"Then why aren't you locked up with them?" I sassed at my twin.
"That—that doesn't matter I'm just trying to protect you here!"
"Well so am I now get out of here Pete before I make you leave!" I snapped.
"And I told you—wait, wait a minute. Did you just call me Pete? Only one person calls me.....Oh God (Y/n)?" I sighed deeply and briefly revealed my hair color to show him that it was me. "Wha—how... (N/n) how did....."
"I get these powers? Funny story actually. You remember when mom and dad died and I had to stay in the ICU for over a week? Well it was around that time my powers awakened. But it wasn't until this savage killed our Uncle that my powers truly came out. He's the one who killed Ben Pete and he deserves to be punished!"
"I agree (y/n) but not like this. Let's just take him to the police together and they'll—"
"The cops!?" I let out an icy laugh then I sneered at him. "The court won't do shit brother. They'll just give him a life sentence with no parole or if they do give him the death penalty, he'll be waiting sometime between 10-50 years before then, maybe even then he'll die in his prison cell. Well not this time, not him. This time I'm calling the shots, I've called all the shots on all those other low-lives who have killed people or tried to take advantage over people in the Night". I turned back towards the brute sprawled out beneath me.
"(Y/n) please. You can still change this, you won't have to do this anymore. Look at what this man has already turned you into. This is not who you are, I know you more than anyone else in this world, and do you think I will sit here and watch you destroy yourself. Remember what Uncle Ben always told us when we were kids?"
How could I ever forget the life lessons that Uncle Ben told us? He only told them to us every day ever since Pete and I became teenagers but this one word of wisdom I will never forget. And I bet most of you probably know what that is.
With great Power, comes great Responsibility.
I soon felt Peter's gloved hand take mine and he pleaded to me one last time.
"Please sis, let go of your hatred. Don't let vengeance consume you any longer that it already has. Please, I want my twin sis back". I looked at him and he looked at me. Taking his mask off, I could see the tears forming in his eyes wanting me to let go of my vengeance and take the rightful path and go with him to turn this murderer in and have him be punished the right way.
Suddenly I felt pain in my left side. I let out a gasp as I slowly began to crumble to my knees as Pete caught me in his arms and held me close to him trying to call out to me but everything was beginning to look blurry at least to me. I felt wet on my side and numbness took over me as Peter was calling out to me but I couldn't hear anything.
*3rd POV*
As Peter held his twin who had just been shot by the crook in his arms begging her to hang on he looked up to see the crook holding his gun up aiming right at him.
"So you brats were related to that old geezer with the car huh? Well meet him in hell". Suddenly frosty mist surrounded the warehouse so thick you could barely see the end of your nose. Pete felt his sister rise up from his arms and as the mist began to clear, standing before the two boys was a haunting image of (Y/n) Parker.
Her outer appearance now looked like a haunting lake spirit. She almost glowed a dark black and grey and her eyes were now pure black instead of white. She raised her hand up and the crook was levitated in the air and as (Y/n) spoke in a deep, almost demonic voice, the crook screamed in pure agony.
"You have no power here. William B. Franco. You are meaningless! Pathetic! A morsel! Now burn in the Icy Hell FOR ALL ETERNITY!!!" As William let out one last painful scream, his whole body was now completely covered in frostbite as he had been frozen from the inside out, he then exploded into black ice before a powerful magical light exploded throughout the warehouse and (Y/n) was now back to normal with the gunshot still at her side. She stumbled backwards as she groaned in pain but her twin was there to catch her and hold her in his arms once again.
As he saw the ice bits of the man who had murdered their Uncle scattered everywhere, he was shocked at what he had seen his sister do after just being shot.
"Holy shit (y/n)" Peter mumbled.
"I'd agree with you on that kid, by the way you're welcome for hacking into the police department for taking them away from the warehouse just before your sister went all Dark Ice Queen on the guy. Is she alright?" Peter looked up to see Tony Stark in his Ironman suit.
"I don't know Mr. Stark uhhh Karen read me her vitals!"
'Your sister will live Peter. That sudden Power she just experienced somehow stopped the bleeding but her energy is draining fast, she's got about a ten minute window before the bleeding resumes'.
"Mr. Stark please can you help my sister!?"
"Alright but on one condition".
"Anything name it".
*Time skip to Avenger's Facility 1st POV*
I woke up to see bright lights everywhere and I heard machines beeping softly beside me. To my left I saw Peter out of his Spiderman uniform and back into normal clothes.
"Pete?" I rasped out.
"(Y/n) oh thank god you're alright!" He embraced me tightly which made my groan in pain making him release me and apologize profusely.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"Avengers facility. I had your brother bring you here and our medical team managed to save you before your wound reopened. How you feeling Elsa?"
"Don't call me Elsa!" I sneered icily.
"(Y/n) please I know you never liked Mr. Stark but he saved your life".
"Yeah which means you owe me kid, and I know just how you can pay me back since your brother has agreed along to the terms I have for both of you".
"I swear if I'm stuck bringing you cold ice cream, I will freeze this entire facility" I growled.
"Nope. But I won't deny getting the ice cream was my first proposition but I've come up with something better for yah kid".
*FF a few weeks later*
"So you still coming to the Decathlon meeting next week right?" asked my friend Mikaela.
"Of course just as soon as I get done working at my new Internship".
"You know I had a feeling with Peter taking the Stark Internship that he would eventually come find you, took him long enough didn't it?"
"Yeah well I'll admit that Pete's more of the brains of the bunch. Well see yah Kee-kee".
"See yah (n/n)!" I then got in the limo that was here to pick me up and I was taken on the 2 and a half hr. drive Upstate to the Avengers Facility. Standing outside the facility was none other than Tony Stark and my brother Peter. I got out of the limo and hugged my brother and he said.
"Glad you agreed to this (y/n). Oh man this is gonna be awesome! Spiderman and the Ice Queen working together to become the next Avengers!"
"Don't go getting too far there kid, you're still grounded from that Vulture incident. You're lucky I gave you back the suit when I did, let's just hope your sister here will be better behaved than you". Mr. Stark said as he put his shades on and urged us to follow him inside. "Welcome Miss Parker, to the Avengers Facility".
This was the agreement Tony had for me. Once I was feeling better, instead of turning me over to the government for unleashing my powers to the public and revealing that I was the Ice Queen, he offered me a position in training alongside my brother to become an Avenger's trainee.
Reluctantly I agreed and now here I am. As I walked through the facility and saw everything they had to offer, I began to think maybe this wasn't such a bad idea I mean at least I'm not in a prison cell away from my family for doing what I believe was right for the people.
Plus I think Mr. Stark might have a soft spot for me since I may remind him of a certain soldier who's now a war criminal. But as long as I'm with my brother and I can finally keep an eye on him to make sure he stays out of immense trouble, I'm okay with this.
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eldritchsurveys · 3 years
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1025.
How many text messages are currently in your inbox? >> ---
Is your profile picture in color or black & white? >> I just have a digitally-made icon as my “profile picture” here.
What’s your favorite Christmas movie? >> There’s only a few Christmas (or Christmas-adjacent, in one case) movies that I even enjoy, and those few I enjoy so much that they all qualify as favourites: It’s a Wonderful Life, Klaus, Rise of the Guardians, and Love Actually.
Did you dress up for Halloween this year? If so, what were you? >> Halloween hasn’t happened yet, but I won’t be dressing up this year (one year will be my year, finally... just not this one).
Are there any posters in your room? Of what? >> That one Cradle of Filth poster that might as well just stay there.
Do you read Rolling Stone? >> Sometimes. We’ve been getting free issues of it because of that FYE rewards program promotion that always ends up veritably burying us in magazines. Normally, though, I don’t read it.
Which Harry Potter book (if you read them) was your favorite? >> Half-Blood Prince.
Do you have any stuffed animals you still sleep with? >> I sleep with far more plushies now than I would have dreamed of as a child.
What kind of cell phone do you own? >> Moto g6 play.
Do you have any pets? >> I don’t, personally, but I live with one because my spouse has one.
Are there currently any accessories in your hair? >> No.
Are you involved with any clubs at your school? >> ---
Do you have an MP3 player? What kind? >> No, I use my phone as a music player.
What’s your favorite sport to watch on TV? >> The only sport I like watching is figure skating.
How many people live with you? >> One.
Are you good at any styles of dance? >> I don’t practice any specific styles.
Do you think that your hair looks better curly or straight? >> ---
Where was your default taken? >> ---
Have you ever been to another country? >> No.
Do you prefer cats or dogs? >> Dogs.
What was the last thing you ate? >> A few mango gummy candies.
What’s your desktop background? >> Concept art of the Tattered Spire from Fable II. It used to be on a shuffle but... well, I set up my gaming rig a few months ago, it imported all my Windows settings, but since the folder where the images for the shuffle came from was not on this new computer, it just imported the one image that was currently “up” and that synced as my background across all of my Windows accounts. Fortunately, I like that artwork a lot, so I haven’t bothered fixing it.
What was the last movie you saw at a theater? >> Birds of Prey.
Did you think it was a good movie? >> I enjoyed it so much. It really was just... the most delightful experience I’ve ever had at a movie theater (like, I’ve seen a lot of amazing films in theater, but this was just the most pure fun I’ve had aside from maybe when I went to see Venom).
Are you afraid of spiders? >> Nope.
Did you carve a pumpkin this year? If so, what did you carve into it? >> I don’t carve pumpkins.
Which Disney movie is your favorite? >> Lilo & Stitch.
Are you the youngest, oldest, middle, or only child? >> I was technically my father’s youngest child, but since my half-siblings were so much older than me, I was basically socialised in a more only-child fashion.
If your power were to suddenly go out right now, how would you react? >> I’d be really annoyed?
Do you enjoy photography? >> I enjoy looking at it.
What’s your favorite thing to do at the beach? >> Nothing that I can’t do anywhere else, I guess. I don’t swim and I’m not fond of sand.
Are you afraid of heights? >> Not especially. Just the normal “enough not to be stupid about the very real dangers of being too far off the ground” amount, I guess.
If someone were to cut you in line at a store, would you speak up? >> Probably. It’d depend on what kind of day I’m having, I guess.
Are there any foods you enjoy baking/cooking? >> No.
What website would you say you visit the most? >> I guess this one.
What book are you currently reading? >> I’ll be picking up The Body is Not An Apology again when I reactivate my Scribd subscription at the end of the week, and meanwhile I’m working through A Mountain Walked (a cosmic horror anthology) again for the hell of it, because that’s one of the books I have on the Kindle app.
Is it for school or just because you want to read? >> I only read because I want to.
Are you going to any concerts in the future that you know of? >> Nope.
Do you play any instruments? >> No.
Are you looking forward to the new Alice in Wonderland movie? >> I didn’t look forward to any of the new ones (I feel like there’s been more than one in my lifetime?).
Do you get seasick? >> No.
When was the last time you hung out with your friends? >> ---
Do you drink soda on a regular basis? >> No.
Are you currently wearing a hoodie? >> I am.
What’s the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten? >> Nothing I’ve eaten pings as “weird” to me, because I don’t see what’s so weird about any food, really. People eat different things around the world, it’s normal cultural and ecological variance, no big deal. (Really, the only food I end up calling weird is certain American foods, and that’s just because a lot of it really shouldn’t qualify as food to me, lmao.)
What was the last sporting event you attended? >> ---
Do you understand Shakespeare? >> I am notoriously unable to parse Shakespeare. Not sure why, since words is kind of my thing, but that’s just the way it is.
Is there a bookshelf in your room? >> No, there’s one in the living room.
Do you need to wear glasses at all? >> No.
What’s your favorite genre of books? >> ---
Do you think it’s too early for Christmas music? >> Sure, logically, but I don’t care enough to be annoyed about it.
What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking? >> A good while, probably. I used to be far more prone to selective mutism.
Does your house have a garden? >> No house.
What color is the shirt you are wearing? >> The undershirt I’m wearing is black. So is the hoodie.
Do you know what brand of toothpaste you use? >> Sensodyne or the appropriate off-brand from whatever store I’m at.
When was the last time you were on an airplane? >> January.
Do you have a permit or license? >> No.
Did you walk any long distances today? >> No.
Are you currently wearing any make-up? >> No.
How do you feel about bands covering old pop music? >> I don’t have a particular feeling about that. There are some covers I like and some I don’t, just like anything else.
Are your nails painted? >> No.
Do you use correct grammar online? >> I use the grammar that is appropriate to whatever vernacular I’m using.
Do you agree with the statement that Miley Cyrus is a bad role model? >> I don’t care about Miley Cyrus being any kind of role model, it’s nothing to do with me.
Do you give out cards on Valentine’s Day? >> No.
What are you listening to right now? >> Nothing.
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for-a-flower · 4 years
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Part Four: Hopes and Dreams
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           Frisk stirred and slowly opened his eyes.  He was laying on his back among yellow flowers, peering into a stream of sunlight that shone down from above.  He sat up with an excited grin.  "It worked!"  He ran both hands through dark fluffy hair.  Frisk stood, picked up a nearby stick, then started down a dark tunnel ahead.  He had a long journey if he was going to make it all the way to Asgore again, but if all went well, this one would be better than the last.  As the child approached a patch of sunlight, he slowed his pace expecting Flowey to show up.  Sure enough, a yellow flower pushed up from the ground.  Frisk gave him a little smile.
           Flowey didn't smile back.  "Hey . . . remember not to kill anything this time," he said.  "I can't believe this is a real thing I have to remind you."  That wasn’t what had happened last time.
           "You remember?" said Frisk.
           Flowey glanced away and grumbled.  "I could save too.  That's how I kept bringing you back.  I just . . . really failed at it during the whole killing you and all," he said.  Flowey turned his gaze back at Frisk and laughed halfheartedly.  "Of course I remember."
           "Don't worry.  I won't kill anything this time," said Frisk.
           Flowey smiled.  "Good luck."  He burrowed to get out of sight.
           Frisk glanced toward the gate into the Ruins ahead of him.  A female monster with white fur and a purple robe rushed through the open gate.  Frisk stared.  She approached with a concerned look on her face.  "Hello.  Are you alright?" she asked.  "Do not be afraid, my child.  I will not hurt you.  I am Toriel, caretaker of the Ruins."
           Frisk's face lit up with a smile.  He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her waist.  “I’m so glad to see you!”
           Toriel was surprised at first but smiled and gave him a comforting pat on the back.  "There, there.  It is okay, my child.  You are safe now," she said.  "I promise I will do my best to protect you during your time here."
           Frisk reluctantly let go then looked up with a smile and happy tears.  “I thought you were gone.”
           Toriel gave him a confused stare.  “What ever are you talking about?”  She glanced further into the dark cave.  “I hope you have not been hurt.  A fall like that can be very dangerous.  You must be so lost and confused.”
           Frisk scratched his head.  Toriel didn’t remember.  That was probably a good thing.  “Yeah, kind of,” he told her.  “But I’m not hurt.”
           She smiled and motioned him to follow her.  "Then come!  I shall guide you through the Ruins," she said.  She walked through the gate and continued into the area beyond.
           Frisk stayed behind and grinned.  "Yes," he said.  "Yes!"  He peeked through the gate to make sure Toriel was still on the other side.  He tried to hide his squeal of excitement, but due to the confused look that came to the Queen's face, it was clear she managed to hear it anyway.  He rushed to follow her, skipping on the way.
           She giggled.  "Welcome to your new home, my child.  You seem very happy to be here.”
           "I am!  I'm glad I ran into you," said Frisk.
           "I am glad I found you too.  Come.  We have quite a ways ahead of us."  Toriel led the way and Frisk followed close by.
           As Frisk and Toriel continued down a hall overgrown with vines and weeds, Flowey emerged from the dirt behind.  He frowned.  "Look at them . . . happy as ever."  Flowey grinned and snickered to himself.  "The human has no idea . . . no idea at all."  He watched Frisk and Toriel exit the hall.  His smile faded.  "Still . . . Chara has to be around here somewhere.  And since I haven't had any luck finding her, I guess I just gotta show her.  But . . . I still need seven human souls to do it."  Flowey sighed.  "Oh well, I've still got a plan . . . and it's bound to work this time."
           About half way through the Ruins, Toriel left Frisk behind for a head start to her home.  This time Frisk didn’t wait around.  He started his way through the Ruins and encountered a few Froggits.  They prepared to attack but the child smiled and complimented them.  They hopped away and let him pass without harm.  Toriel called the cell phone she had just left with the child minutes earlier.
           Frisk answered.  "Hello?"
           "This is Toriel," she said.  "For no reason in particular, which do you prefer, cinnamon or butterscotch?"  Frisk opened his mouth to respond but was interrupted.  "Wait.  Don't tell me.  Is it butterscotch?"
           Frisk’s pace slowed.  "Uh . . . yeah.  How did you know?"
           Toriel laughed.  "I had a feeling.  Every time a human falls down here, I almost feel like I already know them.  And truthfully, when I first saw you, I felt . . . like I was seeing an old friend for the first time.  Strange, is it not?"
           Frisk nodded.  "Yeah."
           "Well, thank you for your selection," said Toriel.  "Bye."  She hung up.  Frisk lowered the phone.  Did she remember something from before or not?  Was it just a feeling she had?  Like deja-vu?  Frisk shrugged and kept moving.  He had no trouble remembering how to solve the puzzles.  Toriel called a few minutes later.
           Frisk answered the cell phone.  "Hello?"
           "This is Toriel.  You do not have any allergies, do you?" she said.
           “Uh, no.  Why do you ask?"
           "No reason . . ." she replied.  "No reason at all.  Sorry for bothering you."
           "It's no bother.  Call any time you want."
           "Aw, you're so sweet.  Good bye for now."  Toriel hung up.  Frisk continued down a hall where he found Napstablook.  He did his best to cheer up the ghost like last time.  During his journey Frisk picked up the red ribbon from a pile of leaves.  Several minutes later, he reached the balcony on which he had found a toy knife before.  Even though he didn't want to fight anything, having to protect himself with just a stick was a bad idea.  Frisk sighed, picked up the toy knife, then rushed toward Toriel's house.  He rounded a corner and skidded to a stop by the large, dark tree in the front yard.
            Toriel stepped out the front door, mumbling to herself.  "Oh dear, that took longer than I thought it would.”  She lifted her phone to call Frisk but stopped when she noticed him standing by the tree a few yards away.  She slipped the phone in a pocket and rushed to him.  "How did you get here, my child?"
           "I went through the Ruins," said Frisk.
           Toriel looked over him.  "I told you to wait for me.  Are you hurt?"  Frisk shook his head.  She let out a sigh of relief.  "Oh thank goodness.  I am sorry.  I should not have left you alone for so long.  It was irresponsible to try to surprise you like this."  Frisk smirked.  Toriel gasped.  "Or . . ."  She smirked at the child.  "Well, I suppose I cannot hide it any longer.  Come, small one!"  She turned and led him to her home.  On the way to the door Frisk took a moment to glance over the front of Toriel’s cozy home.  He had finally saved her . . . brought her back.  It gave him determination.  He could do this.  A yellow light flickered behind him, marking a save in this new timeline so that it would never be lost.  Frisk stepped through red leaves and into the open door of a cozy, little house.  Frisk stopped beside Toriel to take a deep breath as the smell of butterscotch pie drifted by.
           "Do you smell that?" said Toriel.  Frisk nodded.  She gave him a kind smile.  "Surprise!  It is a butterscotch cinnamon pie.  I thought we might celebrate your arrival.  I want you to have a nice time living here, so I will hold off on snail pie for tonight."
           "Thanks!  It smells good."
           "Oh, and here, I have another surprise for you."  She took Frisk’s hand and led him into the hall on the right.  She stopped in front of an open door on the left.  "A room of your own.  I hope you like it!"
           As Frisk glanced over the familiar room with red painted walls, he held back tears but smiled.  "It's perfect.”
           Toriel rubbed his head with a hand, messing up his brown hair.  She paused to sniff the air.  "Is something burning?"  She glanced toward the kitchen.  "Um, make yourself at home!"  She hurried out of the hall.
           Frisk entered the room to look around.  The king's son, Asriel, had lived here.  He owned all of these stuffed toys while he was growing up.  Frisk emptied his pockets of things he had collected so far.  He had bought a couple doughnuts from the spider bake sale and found some monster candy Toriel had set out in the Ruins.  Frisk set the food on a dresser in the room then took out the toy knife, red ribbon, and stick, which he set on the bed's blanket.  Frisk smirked then turned to leave the room and rushed to the living room.  He found Toriel sitting on a large recliner with a book in her hands.
           She looked up as the human joined her.  "Hello there, little one!" she said.  "The pie has not cooled down yet.  But if you want to rest, it should be done when you wake up."
           Frisk nodded.  "I will, but I want to ask you something."
           "You'd rather stay up and chat with me?"
           "Yeah.  You're really nice like my mom."
           Toriel glanced away.  "Um . . .”  She set down the book.  “I want you to know how glad I am to have someone here."  Her gaze shifted back to Frisk and she continued with a smile.  "I have so many old books I want to share and . . . I even prepared a curriculum for your education.  I mean, this may come as a surprise to you but . . . I've always wanted to be a teacher.”
           “You would be a cool teacher.  I know it,” said Frisk.
           Toriel cleared her throat.  “I'm sorry.  You wanted to ask me something, did you not?"
           Frisk sighed, his focus drifting down the wood floor.  "Well . . . my mom is a lot like you.  She’s kind and makes pies . . . and does a lot of things with me."  Frisk glanced up at Toriel, who seemed surprised.  "You're a lot like her.  The room you gave me has a lot of kid’s things in it.  You had a family once . . . but now you're all alone.  What . . . happened to them?"
           "Uhm . . ."  Toriel blinked a few times and took a deep breath.  "That was such a long time ago, my child.  I do not remember everything so well anymore."
           Frisk could tell that the question had opened an old wound, so he smiled and shook his head.  "Never mind."  He inched closer to her.  "I wanna see some of the books.  Can you read some to me?"
           Toriel smiled.  "Oh, of course."  She motioned the human child to come sit on her lap.  Once he had, she lifted the book again.  "This one is called 72 Uses for Snails," she said.  "There are a lot of interesting facts in here.  Like this one.”  She pointed to a statement on the page.  “Did you know that snails sometimes flip their digestive systems as they mature?"
           Frisk giggled.  "That’s weird.  How do they do that?"
           Toriel rubbed her chin.  "Hm . . . I am not sure."
           Frisk wiggled impatiently on her lap.  "Read another."
           Toriel turned the page.  "Alright, let me find another good one."  Toriel continued reading to the human child for a good ten to fifteen minutes by a warm fireplace.  Eventually Frisk told a joke and the two started making puns with each other.  They laughed together and enjoyed each other’s company until Frisk grew tired.  He yawned.  "You must be exhausted," said Toriel.
           "Yeah."
           "Go and rest.  I will still be here when you wake up.  And so will the pie."
           Frisk slid off her lap.  "Good night!"
           Toriel smiled.  "Good night, my child."  The child yawned again as he walked down the hall into his new room.  He closed the door and switched off the light.  He moved the items off the bed then let himself collapse on the soft mattress.  He pulled the blanket over him and closed his eyes.  He sighed.  This was how it should have been.  This is how it was meant to be.  He felt like he belonged now instead of like he was out of place down here.
           Frisk planned to spend the next day with Toriel to get to know her.  But in the back of his mind, he knew he'd still have to leave.  He didn't want to.  He wanted to stay but . . . he still had to find a way to make it all different.  Frisk tried not to think about it.  As he started to drift off, another thought slowly came to him.  Chara.  She hadn't said anything to him since she ordered him to kill Flowey in the last timeline.  He wondered if she was still around and if she was okay.  In a way he was glad he hadn’t heard from her yet but he was also concerned.  As far as he could tell, it seemed that both Flowey and Chara had been misunderstood.  There had to be more going on with them and he wanted to know what.  It wasn't possible to go back and prevent Chara from dying, but maybe he could make things better in the present somehow.
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cienie-isengardu · 5 years
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Bi-Han’s rudeness...?
I guess, it’s common idea that Bi-Han was the rude (if not the rudest) Lin Kuei warrior we had a chance to meet. Mythologies: Sub-Zero and Mortal Kombat 9 (2011) pretty much embody elder Sub-Zero’s crude and sarcastic nature. It was especially seen around Scorpion, his enemy (”Will not...or cannot?"; "To hell with your clan!“), but even around Grandmaster - the ultimate superior & Quan Chi, the important client of Lin Kuei (accussing Quan Chi on hiring another assassin for the same mission and generally being go yourself there if you so badly want that stuff) or Raiden - the god (”That's it? Not even a thank you?").
We may only guessing if Bi-Han at this point of story was simply done with everyone around him, or if the lack of manners & respect ties directly to cryomancer’s genes or did he do that on purpose. Regardless the reason, Bi-Han’s cold, often harsh way of speaking to others distinguishes him from the few known Lin Kuei warriors. Of course, the lack of game examples how he interacts with fellow Lin Kuei, from companions sent on the same mission to his own brother, only adds to general impression of Bi-Han’s rudeness.
Also, comparing Bi-Han’s attitude to Sektor-Cyrax and Smoke-Tundra (Sub-Zero II) duos, where all other warriors to some degree had strong and/or complex ties to each other, the personal isolation of Bi-Han really stands out.
Of course, we know from games and other sources that Kuai Liang cares deeply for his brother and Sareena over the course of years has some emotional ties to Bi-Han as well. But frankly, we are more told that by them than really have insight into Bi-Han’s psyche. I mean, we still don’t have any clue why he would spare Sareena in Mythologies, have we? What only adds to the feeling of Bi-Han’s isolation; we scarcely see him interact with other characters that aren’t stricte enemy.
This is why I want bring three moments from other than game sources, in which Bi-Han thinks about or interacts with people that seems to be liked or at least respected by him.
Mortal Kombat 4 Limited Edition Comics,
in which we are told by narrative that “Several Days later, on Earth, Sub-Zero returns to China to the ancient Temple of the Elements. The Temple’s location is secret, but Sub-Zero learned how to find it from his older brother, the original Sub-Zero.”
So, between one mission (Shinnok’s amulet) and another (Tournament), Bi-Han found time to talk with Kuai Liang. And shared informations about his important assigment. Of course, we do not know Lin Kuei rules, but I don’t think that revealing details of the mission was ever well appreciated. Still, Bi-Han told his brother where to find Temple, and from the panels below, what was there (Shinnok’s amulet),  why it was important (”the amulet that keeps [Shinnok] trapped in the Netherrealm”, ”as long as the amulet remains on Earth, Shinnok cannot escape the Netherrealm”), who guarded it (Four Elements / gods of water, earth, fire and wind) and though it wasn’t show in flashback itself, most likely that Bi-Han fought them all.
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The flashback itself is really short and part of their talk must happened off panel, so we don’t know how much Bi-Han told Kuai Liang, nor why. But we must remember that in Mythologies: Sub-Zero, Bi-Han alone never heard about Shinnok or Netherrealm before the mission (”Quan Chi could simply be a lunatic sorcerer. I've never heard of an Elder God named Shinnok! Or of a place called the Netherrealm! “) and if he didn’t know that back then, Kuai Liang most likely didn’t either. By sharing his newly acquired knowledge - with or without consent of the Grandmaster - Bi-Han gave his younger brother additional informations that may someday be useful (or maybe even save his brother’s life, especially if he get involved with another Shinnok-related mess).
Did Bi-Han told the story to warn Kuai Liang, or just to satisfy his brother's curiosity, we can’t be sure. Maybe his reason to do so was mix of two, maybe something completely different. What is important, Bi-Han found time to talk to Kuai, even though he did not have much of it between last and future mission.
Bi-Han told the informations in rather stolid (no emotional) way. No rude, but not overly warm, personal way either. Straight to the point, I would say.
Mortal Kombat book by Jeff Rovin (1995)
is a book in which original Sub-Zero is both rude/sarcastic and even more brutal than usual (game) self. Also, is Shang Tsung’s favorite assassin. Unfortunately for sorcerer, “Bi-Han” was not available for important mission; after killing his former partner who left Lin Kuei/criminal life, Sub-Zero went into hiding and no one knewn where in China he is, not even other members of the Lin Kuei.
This turn of events upsetted/annoyed the sorcerer but of course, Shang Tsung is not someone to give up so easily, so he used magic ways to find Sub-Zero. On the occasion,we learn more or else that “Bi-Han” not only brutally killed his former companion (”Scorpion”) but also offended demigod:
There was a long pause. “I… am looking.” Then, the disembodied voice said, “I see him… Shang Tsung. He is hiding.”
“Where?”
“In a cave… in a cliff… north of Wenzhou.”
“That’s just like him,” Shang Tsung said. “With the fees he charges, he could live in splendor. Yet he chooses a life of hardship and study.”
“And death!” Ruthay said.
“Yes, death,” Shang Tsung admitted. “Don’t be too harsh on him, Ruthay. Some people deserve to die. I will summon him–”
“Wait! Be warned, Shang Tsung. He is cursed!”
“Cursed? By whom?”
Ruthay wailed, “By the immortal Yu.”
Shang Tsung felt cold spiders crawl up his spine. “The demigod Yu?”
“Yes… he who is said to dwell in the underground caverns of Horse  Ear Mountain… which is sacred to the goddess Kuan Lin. He who protects the canals… and the tunnels… and looks after all who use them, human and animal.”
“What did our brash friend do to Yu?”
“He… killed a man,” said Ruthay.
“What man?”
“A toll-taker… one who had given up a life of crime… one who had been a partner of the man… you… seek.”
“And how did that crime come to the attention of the spirit of Yu?” Shang Tsung asked.
“The man was killed… slowly disemboweled with a sword… while accomplices forced his wife and his son to look on! After his murder… the man’s remains… were dumped into a canal!”
Shang Tsung raised an eyebrow. “Is that all? I was expecting something truly terrible!”
“It was!” Ruthay shrieked. “When he disposed of the body… in that way … he profaned one of the sacred waterways… of Yu!”
Shang Tsung smiled now. “Then he is definitely the man I want,” he said. “Anyone who is impudent enough to insult a demigod won’t be afraid to attack a member of the White Lotus Society, or the gods who watch after them. I will send Hamachi, Ruthay. When he nears his goal, see through his eyes and guide him!”
So, book!”Bi-Han” is by no means a nice person. Sub-Zero spent years searching for a man that betrayed Lin Kuei and when finally found him, not only killed him in brutal way while accomplices forced man’s wife and son to watch his flesh ravaged and his blood spilled, to see his intestines and stomach exposed, still alive, as he squirmed and shrieked and died but also thrown the battered body into sacred water of demigod Yu. And from “Bi-Han”’s own POV: even if Yu himself crawled into the cave, he would find the killer unrepentant and willing to kill the former ninja again.
Because Sub-Zero does not fear (nor respect(?)) gods, Shang Tsung was even more willing to hire “Bi-Han” to do the important job (”Then he is definitely the man I want,” he said. “Anyone who is impudent enough to insult a demigod won’t be afraid to attack a member of the White Lotus Society, or the gods who watch after them”). To reach Sub-Zero in warrior’s hiding place, Shang Tsung sent his precious, the most trusted bird to carry his messeng:
But some of the birds were kept more for practical purposes. His falcons were trained to fly to the mainland and kill with claws of poison, while his beautiful white pigeons were trained to carry messages to spots all across eastern China.
Going to a small writing table tucked in a corner of the stone chamber, Shang Tsung lit a candle, dipped a fountain pen in red ink, and wrote in small, tight characters on a slip of rice paper:
LIU KANG AND TWO OTHER MEMBERS OF THE WHITE LOTUS SOCIETY ARE CAMPED TO THE WEST OF WUHU, HEADED EAST TO INTERCEPT A BAND OF BLACK DRAGONS. THESE INTERLOPERS MUST BE STOPPED. YOU ARE MY LAST HOPE. RETURN THE BIRD WITH A TOKEN SO I WILL KNOW THAT YOU HAVE GONE AFTER THEM.
SHANG TSUNG
After finishing the message, the sorcerer went over to one of the cages, carefully removed a pigeon, rolled the paper around its right leg, and fixed it there with a length of red string. Holding the bird in both hands, he made his way under and around the many cages to the window. The black shutters of the window were closed, and one of the hooded servants scuttled over, released the catch, and threw it open.
Shang Tsung bent close to the bird and said softly, “I know you won’t fail me as my fellow humans have, devoted Hamachi. Fly true and take my urgent message to the region you know so well. Ruthay will see through your eyes and guide you from there. Then return to me, my delicate servant. Come back safely and soon, and I will offer up a human sacrifice to you.”
So, from the book it’s clear that Shang Tsung had high respect for Sub-Zero’s skills and to some degree was familiar with Bi-Han (”That’s just like him. With the fees he charges, he could live in splendor. Yet he chooses a life of hardship and study.”). Looking at how often Shang Tsung asked/demanded to know why he “couldn’t get the man I wanted“, I dare to say even a bit obsessed with hiring him. But then again, Shang Tsung had a lot to lose if the mission failed, so of course he wanted the best assassin for the job.
The cave was located two hundred miles south of Shimura Island, though it was still hours before dawn when the pigeon reached it. Landing in the narrow mouth, the bird cooed once then stood still, as it had been trained to do.
The ninja was awake and beside it in an instant, crouched beneath a ceiling that didn’t allow for him to stand. Dressed only in a white loincloth, despite the cold floor and chill air in the cave. He was reading the message by moonlight a moment later.
A smile crossed his lips, lips so pale and claylike that they appeared dead. His small, very narrow eyes looked from the message to the bird to the moonlight that lit just the entrance of his dark abode.
He ran the back of an index finger up and down the bird’s breast. “Good Hamachi. Return to your master so he will know that I have received his message and am on my way to do his bidding. For a price, of course,” he said. He glanced at the several pyramid-shaped stacks of scrolls in the rear of his cave. His fee was another manuscript from Shang Tsung’s library, one of the many scrolls that were centuries old, dating back to the dawn of the days of the first ninjitsu and containing arcane secrets of the league of assassins to which he belonged, the widely-feared Lin Kuei.
"Bi-Han” smiled at the new task and I think this was a genuine smile; something we rarely had a chance to see. Of course, it may be related to great price he will get, another precious scroll from Tsung’s own collection (what alone raises a question like was Sub-Zero even allowed to work for Shang Tsung without the proper Grandmaster’s approval, because it seems he was hired by sorcerer quite often). So, either he was simply happy to have something dangerous (challenging) to do or the mere idea of new stuff to read warmed his heart or most likely the smile was reaction to mix of those two things.
Does this have anything to Bi-Han’s rudeness? The reaction to carrier-pigeon is unusual and frankly, pretty warm for Sub-Zero’s cold, impersonal nature. Especially compared with his previously described brutality. He did not mind killing a man in front of victim’s wife and son (who both were forced to look on the whole homicide). A man, that was once Sub-Zero’s partner / member of Lin Kuei.
But then when Hamachi brought him messenge, “Bi-Han” ran the back of an index finger up and down the bird’s breast what itself sound as rather affective gesture, petting an animal that did not belong to him in the first place. Even if he was aware how important the bird was to Shang Tsung, that still does not mean he needed to pet it, or praise (“Good Hamachi). Also, looking at sorcerer’s messenger, there is only RETURN THE BIRD WITH A TOKEN but “Bi-Han” knew (and used) its name. The whole scene is interesting because there is no real reason why he should bother to be nice to simply carrier-pigeon, but I think it is right to assume “Bi-Han” to some degree was fond of the animal. Maybe even of Shang Tsung... For a price, of course.
Later in the story, “Bi-Han” was capable of working with Goro and Reptile albeit still was at times sarcastic too. Nothing really drastic, for Sub-Zero’s standards. And hey, even made a joke/snickered at Scorpion’s expense (thinking about it, that frankly is normal thing for Bi-Han):
“Calm yourself, Goro,” said Sub-Zero. “What is your name, boy?”
“I am Scorpion,” said the youth.
Sub-Zero snickered. “I’ve eaten Scorpion, and had scorpion soup. I can’t say I cared for either. Now, tarantula stew–”
“You murdered a toll-taker,” Scorpion cut in. “He was a gracious and blameless man, a gentle husband and caring father.”
“Ah,” said Sub-Zero. “You are... the son?”
So, in the novel “Bi-Han”
showed little respect to demigod Yu,
brutally killed a man that once was his partner but who betrayed Lin Kuei; thus was hunted down and eliminated
was sometimes sarcastic yet capable of working with other Shang Tsung’s no-human servants without much trouble
showed some fondness for Hamachi, by petting & praising the animal and in general seemed to have good working relationship with Shang Tsung
had at least one moment in which said something more personal (two, if we take the joke about eating scorpions and tarantual stew seriously)
Overall, “Bi-Han” is rude and sarcastic but also capable of being gentle & nice( r) to the few he likes(?); in this case mainly to bird Hamachi.
MORTAL KOMBAT BLOOD & THUNDER (1994)
is another take on first Tournament. The Lin Kuei clan was represented by Sub-Zero and Hydro. During journey to Shang Tsung’s Island, the two warriors kept distance from others. When Kano and Johnny Cage fought at ship deck, “Bi-Han” watched it from safe place. When Hydro asked what is going on there, Sub-Zero only stated  “a petty altercation, Hydro. It is no concern of the Lin Kuei”. Despite the impersonal answer, the warrior could tell something is bothering “Bi-Han”
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Unexpectedly, Scorpion (the Wraith) showed himself, telling Sub-Zero he is gonna kill him and so on, you know the drill. The biggest difference between Mythologies & MK9′s backstory of the conflict is that, “Bi-Han” and Scorpion fought one on one, to test which clan is better and “Hanzo”’s revenge is more about getting into afterlife between his dead ancestors (who for some reason denied him that) and that Shirai Ryu ninja is more dramatic. Like, wishing to kill every “Bi-Han”’s friends, then family, then finally him, even though he died in fair fight. Anyway, Scorpion left and Hydro saved “Bi-Han”’s life
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and soon after that once again Hydro was asking if “Bi-Han” is all right
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Here some interesting details:
When Hydro asked about Sub-Zero’s physical injury, “Bi-Han” truthfully answered, adding how it happens every year on the same day. He does not keep any ‘tough guy’ act around friend (and looking how Hydro can tell how “Bi-Han” is distracted and knows about his injury, saves his life and in general is assuring/caring, I think this is correct way to call Hydro).
Yet, when Hydro asked if Sub-Zero is all right, “Bi-Han” did not answer that directly. Instead of telling how he is emotionally / mentally feeling, the warrior already was analyzing situation and pointing mistake he did (showing fear)
In both cases, it seems like Hydro is the one more emotionally open and/or supporting of the two. “Bi-Han” does not show much emotions, however he is willing to admit his fear of Spectre, to share informations about the injury - like what the pain means (”he is coming back”) - does not ridicule Hydro for worrying about him, does not bother with tough guy act at all. I wouldn’t say Sub-Zero is overly warm and open there, but definitely not rude or sarcastic. He does care when something is happening to Hydro, but unfortunately does not show much emotion after the warrior was killed by Scorpion. Then again, “Bi-Han” at that point of story is no more affraid of the Spectre and is pretty much willing to kill him again. And did fight against enemy, even though Raiden took him under his protection. So, maybe Sub-Zero did not speak about his feelings but the change from fear into I’m gonna kill you again could be motivated by his friend’s death?
I’m bringing Hydro and Sub-Zero’s relationship for the contrast between how “Bi-Han” is acting around his close(?) companion and people he does not know nor care for. Like Sonya and her partner from SF, who get on Shang Tsung’s ship to find and arrest hiding there Kano.
Just after Scorpion dissapeared, the US soldiers accosted Lin Kuei, looking for a bit cooperation to find Kano. Sub-Zero’s reaction?
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and
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So, “Bi-Han” very quickly changed from admitting to companion making mistake / showing fear to enemy to “You do not understand. The Lin Kuei do not have to cooperate with anyone!” (saying it while buring picture of Kano, because this is how much he cares) and “Bah! Your threats mean nothing to me, woman” (while totally not caring to call Sonya by her name she told him just moment ago. Rude.)
Those three examples made me think of Bi-Han as someone who is rarely warm to other people, even those he is close to. Even while talking about important and sensitive things, he rather talk in impersonal way. Maybe this is result of Lin Kuei training, maybe just Cryomancers are like that. But for sure Bi-Han’s way of speaking and acting change depending on in whose company he is. Sarcastic and rude way of speak and act is usually directed at people he dislike, does not trust or care, or at gods in general. Which makes probably a long list of people that fits those categories.
Bi-Han may be unable (or not willing?) to be overly warm/nice to people (and creatures/animals?) he likes and/or respects, but at the same time is willing to share important informations, answer their questions, does not ridicule them (as far as we coul see in those little examples) for caring and/or showing their care for him and even praise (at least Hamachi). I think Bi-Han is the type of cold, collected person but no less honest, who does not know (or does not want) how to tell people about his feelings but is showing how he care by small gestures (telling the truth about injury, sharing information, petting the bird).
Of course, this is just my take on Bi-Han, based on various sources (games, books & comics), but I really believe he was not the type of brother to be rude or sarcastic toward his younger sibling or close comrade (unless the situation called for him acting that way). Everyone else though deserves all the rudness and sarcasm.
So, in short, it’s not like Bi-Han can’t be nice(r), it’s just that the list of people he care for and respect is really short.
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soveryanon · 5 years
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Reviewing time for MAG147 X_X/
- We already knew that Annabelle was interested in stories – she was “the Story Spinner” in MAG123, had Gregory Cox instal a website to fish out what were basically statements. And her statement in itself feels a bit like a… crafted story, in-universe? It’s explicitly addressed to Jon, meant to be read by Jon, and it contained so many details reminiscent of Jon’s own infancy: both lived near the sea (Hunstanton/Bournemouth); both were raised by a female figure who didn’t hide her resentment (Annabelle’s mother for having to take care of a large family, Jon’s grandmother for having to take care of her son’s son); Annabelle tried to run away and Jon used to “explore” too far to the point of being brought back by the police; Annabelle left her home with a book (Five Go Down to the Sea) while Jon had been led outside by one (A Guest for Mr. Spider); both encountered The Web as kids and were presumably led to fit in Her scheme later on in their lives as young adults… but with enough nuances and straight-out differences (Annabelle coming from a large family while Jon was a single child without a close family, etc.) to clearly set them apart. This passage, especially, felt especially Dedicated To Jon?
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The air was warm and humid as I snuck out of the house, filled with that slight smell of salt that even now… changed as I am… I still sometimes find myself missing here, in the grimy air of London.”
And what to think of the ~coincidence~ of Annabelle, future Web avatar, growing up in a family of eight children, having a distant mother – while her present Patron is referred as Mother-of-Puppets? Was it a genuine story, or a hybrid creation crafted from various other stories with threads interwoven to form other patterns? Annabelle herself raised the possibility, in a terrifying way (“Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach.”), and, indeed. Annabelle could be unreliable – we know that statement-givers can conceal information if they want:
(MAG121) OLIVER: And about two years before I came to your Institute, something happened – something I didn’t want to talk about. Didn’t even want to think about. I… [SIGH] I started to see them when I was awake. […] Even when I went to your Institute, tried to warn her, I could see them crawling through the corridors towards the Archives.
(“Lying” is a different matter – can you write a lie when making a statement, or would it work as long as you think/are convinced that an event took place a certain way? We’ve had an example, with MAG015, of events being objectively different from the way the statement-giver described them (“Take her, not me”). But with Annabelle… yeah, absolutely no idea if we’re to take what she said at face-value or not.)
And interestingly, I… don’t feel like we learned anything at all about Annabelle Cane’s actions or history: because she didn’t cover at all the parts of her avatar life that we had heard of. She barely scratched the surface of her transformation, with enough doubt to wonder if she had been led there or if it was a coincidence (something she highlighted, as she said that her experience as a kid “is what engendered in me that terror of spiders which eventually led to my volunteering at Surrey University” but it had been stated in MAG069 that… she hadn’t been told that the experiment was about arachnophobia), didn’t say a word about Neil Lagorio, nor what she was planning with the website in 2015. We only know that she has plans. She is. Terrifying.
- What she said about:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The Mother is the fear of manipulation and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete.”
indeed fits a LOT with the pattern we have seen of avatars reminiscing on the events that led them to their current life. Jude had insisted on her “burn-out”; Mike rationalised that he had always been a bit fascinated by falling, hence going for The Vast; Oliver described it precisely too:
(MAG121) OLIVER: I still remember the first time I tried to touch one. In my dreams, the night before, I had found my way back to my own street. I don’t know why I did it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, walking past my own home in a dream, but I just– … Maybe I wanted it this way, I mean… when I stepped out the building that morning, I… didn’t turn towards the bus stop like I always do. I turned right instead, walked over to the little alleyway where I knew, some time in the next week, a young woman was… going to have a fatal aneurysm. […] So, I did some digging. Found the identity of a few crew members and started to track them down. I told myself that I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I did. Of course I did. […] I had never felt anything as cold as those veins. It was so… hm, patient. It… made me think of those winter mornings, when I was a kid, with no snow; just… frost and frozen mist over everything. Keeping the world in place, curling you up into yourself and… quietly waiting for you to lose your footing, to slip up and fall. Snap.
Annabelle herself insisted on the idea of control and manipulation when she was a kid, and Jon… Jon had insisted on the curiosity for novelty and on seeing. But if he had been touched, let’s say, by The Lonely, would he have retroactively described his exact same childhood as one of isolation, without any meaningful connection…?
- … I feel so stupid to have just assumed, all this time, that somehow, all Web avatars had to be interconnected to their patron, aware of the Big Plans? Because it was The Web and duh? But nop, apparently, Annabelle doesn’t know about The Web’s intentions (… if it has any “intention”, as Gertrude had questioned MAG145) – she could be lying but. Not Knowing What Your Patron Wants Of You seems to be a recurring thing in season 4, Jon had lamented about it in MAG145 too (which. was. worrisome.).
But Annabelle has her own plans, at the very least, and they apparently involve Jon:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I’m afraid I don’t actually have these answers for you; I’ve simply been… watching. I’m sure you understand that. Maybe I’ve occasionally been nudging something here and there to keep you safe, to keep everything on track.”
… which does NOT make her an ally, what the flying fuck JON:
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: So, she is… watching the Institute. Interfering with things. … [HUFF] Is that reassuring, or… really, really bad…? I can’t say I’m… [HUFF] I can’t say I’m sad to have another ally allegedly on our side, but I don’t like the idea of being important to The Web. … That’s a really bad place to be…
(Especially since he had mentioned he was… ready to get into danger or to die if it means saving someone – Annabelle’s comment seems to give credit to the idea that she was the one who sent Martin to put the tapes around the coffin to get Jon back? So if she needs Jon alive, and especially given the current situation… that’s Bad, actually…?)
(- I’m… astonished that Jon didn’t get into a paranoia fit about The Web’s ritual, then? Since he has no information whatsoever about it, and had been researching about rituals until then. The Web making a move should make him think of the possibility…? Unless he has already accessed a few of Martin’s tapes? Unless he “knows” the content of the recording? (… But given that Annabelle and The Web are not the same thing, I do wonder if it’s not possible to have an avatar trying to bring its patron’s ritual to completion despite said patron not being overly interested in theory…? We’ve had the reverse case, with Jared refusing to participate in The Last Feast, after all…))
(- So, that “nudging”: it strengthens the idea that she was indeed the one who sent Martin helping Jon to get out of the coffin?
(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.
(MAG135) ELIAS: I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait. BASIRA: Then you messed up. Way he tells it, he doesn’t know how he got out of there. ELIAS: But he did. And his powers were no small part of it. Even if he required some assistance, they were what saved him. And he’s still achieved what no one – mortal, monster, or anything in-between – has ever been able to. He climbed out of The Buried.
1°) Peter Doesn’t Like It
2°) Elias Absolutely Doesn’t Mind It
Elias, that’s the 100th time this season, but what DO YOU KNOW about the spiders in your Institute…)
(- There were so many mentions of watching/seeing in Annabelle’s statement, and she did acknowledge Jon’s confusion over what is coming from The Eye and what could come from The Web… so there is still That Thing again. With the confirmation that Smirke had been extremely arbitrary and couldn’t stand to acknowledge the possibility that he might have been wrong in his “architecture”, it seems that “An infinite amorphous blob of terror bleeding out in every direction at once.” still remains The Most Accurate description of the Fears.)
- That… was such a powerful move…
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … You hear that? BASIRA: No, I, I don’t hear– ARCHIVIST: Shh, shh! MELANIE: Yes. Room on the left…! ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “an organisation dedicated to–” DAISY: Is that…? ARCHIVIST: Yes…. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–academic research into the esoteric, and the paranormal.” BASIRA: Don’t touch it. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “The head of the Institute–” ARCHIVIST: No. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–Mr Elias Bouchard–” ARCHIVIST: It’s alright. [BREATHING DEEPER] [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–has employed me to replace the previous Head Archivist, one Gertrude Robinson, who has recently passed away.” ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] [THE TAPE IS STOPPED.] DAISY: Something underneath it. ARCHIVIST: I see it. Uh, hand me that brush? [RUFFLING SOUND] BASIRA: Is… that what I think it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Yeah. [RUSTLING PAPER] Official Institute paper, and everything. BASIRA: Goddamnit…! ARCHIVIST: “Statement of Annabelle Cane.” … She left it for us.
1°) She knew that the assistants were going to The Web’s stronghold for the first time, and she left things that had been taken out from the Institute, The Eye’s stronghold as messages. Meaning she has indeed full access to the Institute and the Archives.
2°) Leaving. A statement. As a gift. Nobody had asked and she left it.
3°) MAG001’s tape, meaning Jon’s whole debut as an unwilling servant of The Eye, potentially meaning that she had been watching all along…
4°) Throwing us into the past, too: because it was the old Jon, pretending he didn’t believe in the supernatural – the Jon who hid and dissimulated (just like he did again with the people he attacked for their statements)… because he was afraid, because he thought that acknowledging them would mean catching their attention. We get to hear this Jon, again, and it’s such. A blow. And a reminder that Jon has been doing that again lately.
(5°) … and they arrived just when Elias was mentioned on the tape, so *squints* Is it because it was just the beginning of the tape, or an invitation to go request Explanations&Answers from that fucker.)
- Same, HHHH that power move of beginning the statement with
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) ““Free will” is a funny old thing – isn’t it, Jon? Can I call you Jon? I’m going to call you Jon.”
… when she revealed a few lines later that she perfectly knew that Jon couldn’t stop reading. So he couldn’t answer anyway because it was an indirect message, but he was forced to read the question and Annabelle’s unilateral decision without being able to agree or protest anyway, and she perfectly knew it. Hhhhh.
(Also, the question was reminiscent of Nikola’s own “Can I call you Elias?” during Jon’s kidnapping&sequestration, and ahahaha, that. Might have been even more triggery for Jon, uh.)
(Aaaand both Oliver, agent of Death, and Annabelle, agent of Web, jumped to a first-name basis with Jon while he was in no position to allow or refuse them – in a “coma” with Oliver, and under compulsion-to-read with Annabelle.
(MAG121) OLIVER: Hum… Hello, Jon. Do you… m–mind if I call you Jon? I… I mean. You don’t actually know me, it’s just… well. “Archivist”, it’s so… formal, isn’t it? And I do kind of know you…? […] The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice.
Annabelle and Oliver are definitely kinda-friends, uh.)
(- And the voiceswitch was ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL. Terrifying and wow. Jon felt like someone else, even more than usual.)
- Obligatory squintsquintsquint because:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I discovered a deep and enduring talent inside myself… for lying. My manipulations were not intricate – but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans.”
………… is kinda reminiscent of Martin:
(MAG117) MARTIN: These last couple of years, I’ve always been... running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but… but now it’s my trap. And, well. I think it will work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but… it felt good, weaving my own little web. OH, oh Christ, I hope Jon doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, Jon, it’s an expression, chill out. Besides, spiders are fine. I mean, yes, people are scared of them, obviously, but actual spiders, they just… want to help you out with flies!
(And Elias had described his own ability as “weaving” too. And Jon did wonder, in MAG145, if he wasn’t mostly just plainly good at bullshitting. If there are two people we tend to over/under-estimate, it would be Elias and Martin, who both “love manipulating people!”…)
- Obligatory laugh that:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “With any other animal, we talk about “instinct”, we talk about “training”, perhaps if we have spent enough time with them… we talk about “personality”. But we never talk about choice. We never look at a dog racing wildly after a thrown ball and think “What an odd decision that dog has made!”. We talk about the workings of its mind, and its instincts; if it doesn’t chase the ball, we wonder why: is it sick? Is it tired? Perhaps something in the nature of this particular breed, this particular dog, makes it prone to ignoring a game of fetch. The idea of a dog simply… choosing not to chase feels deeply unnatural. Is it even capable of legitimately making a decision? Some would say no.”
Hey, Annabelle. You don’t know cats, uh. And you’re talking to a cat-lover. (Well. A love of The Admiral, at the very least. Who had decided it was time for belly rubs before electing to go on with his day, back in MAG093, in typical cat behaviour.)
- Constant soft static while they were at Hill Top Road, so there is definitely Something Wrong with the place. (However, there was none when Jon read the statement, so did they stop at an inn, or where they back at the Institute already?)
Ivo Lensik had given his statement about Hill Top Road in March 2007, and Jon had mentioned in his follow-up that:
(MAG008) ARCHIVIST: Two families have lived in the house since this statement was originally made but no further manifestations have been reported on Hill Top Road.
Plus, there was Anya Villette’s statement from April 2014 (MAG114), which mentioned:
(MAG114, Anya Villette) “The owners of the house had already filled it with furniture. Not good furniture, of course: just the cheapest IKEA had that wouldn’t collapse under the weight of a textbook. It was all assembled, though […]. It opened to reveal stairs going down into a basement. Nobody had mentioned a basement. Not when they gave me the job, not on the floor plan they’d given me; I’d had absolutely no idea it was there.”
(Anya also mentioned “thick sheets of white plastic, to try and keep the dust off” over the furniture and the fact that she had woken up “in one of the chairs, the dust cover clinging to me like a cocoon”: it sounds a lot like spider web, but she had been able to identify cobwebs as such when trying to reach the basement. So? Is it because The Web’s presence was stronger down there…? Her confusion about things still sounds like textbook Spiral to me, though we learned, since then, that there is the “scar in reality” so… what the heck was happening with Anya.)
By contrast:
(MAG147) MELANIE: When did you say they finished rebuilding? ARCHIVIST: 2008? MELANIE: Hm! ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t look like anyone ever… moved in, though. BASIRA: So this is… ten years of cobwebs? DAISY: More than that. [FOOTSTEPS.] MELANIE: [INHALE] No, I’m sure this is just the normal number of webs that grow up organically…! […] DAISY: Clear. [SHUT THE DOOR.] Looks like nothing downstairs. BASIRA: You wanna… take a moment, before we head up? ARCHIVIST: What about the basement? DAISY: Can’t see one. ARCHIVIST: Huh… DAISY: You want me to take point? ARCHIVIST: Uh… no – no, I’ve, I’ve got it.
So there are Too Many Cobwebs, it looks unoccupied although there used to be furniture, and we still (don’t) have a Schrödinger basement. GREAT.
(And bonus: Annabelle doesn’t want Jon to go there again – or at least, for now.)
- Jon The Tired Young Old Man is back, once again, and it’s been His Season To Shine:
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Everything’s changed. … [SIGH] Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.
(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Statement… ends. [COLLAPSES] [CLICK.]
(MAG131) MELANIE: You’re going now? ARCHIVIST: [NERVOUS BREATHLESS LAUGHTER] [HISS OF PAIN] No. … No, now, I am going for a lay down. That was… that was not what I’d expected. MELANIE: Come on. You can use Basira’s cot.
(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea [HUFF]
(MAG140) BASIRA: You look awful. You tried drinking with Daisy again last night? […] ARCHIVIST: [SLURRING] It’s not a hangover. Well, not… [INHALE] I wasn’t drinking. [SIGH] […] Yesterday, I tried something I… [INHALE] I–I deliberately tried to… Know something, like I did in the coffin, but… there was a lot. Too much [SIGH], and I… […] You drink the whole contents of a bar in three seconds, you don’t remember what the merlot tasted like. [SIGH] It just… hurt.
(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … We’ve been back in London for just over a week, now. I’m… more or less recovered physically. It’s just this nagging sense of unease that won’t leave me.
(MAG147) BASIRA: Jon, focus. Are you getting any “sense” of anything? Can you… “see” anything? ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: This one really took it out of me. [CLEARER] I need to go lie down…! … E–end recording. [CLICK.]
………………………… except that, given His Pattern, and the mention that he hadn’t absolutely recovered from the Dark trip……………….. it probably means he “needs” a new victim to get fully rested. I. Really. Hope. That the girls will keep a close eye on him, uh…
- The Dasira shines… in small but significant ways… and how they like to throw jokes around Jon in tense situations…
(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] Eyes peeled. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Yeah.
(MAG147) BASIRA: So, where are all the spiders? MELANIE: Ah– I mean, they, they hide. You know, it’s a thing they do, spiders – they hide. DAISY: Perhaps they… bugged out. [FOOTSTEPS.] ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERS] … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Jon, focus.
(Not “bugs” technically, Daisy – Martin would be Offended about it!) I love how both Basira&Daisy are unapologetic about it, how it always takes Jon a moment to realise what Was Just Said, how he used the same tone to ask-what-he-already-knows (this is why people like Melanie like to say you don’t have a sense of humour, Jon.), and how… Basira was the one to demand he go back on track in the last one, instead of Daisy.
- My heart cried a bit about the girls throwing jokes because… yeah, it’s how Team Archives tends to deal with dire situations – and it was… really reminiscent of The Unknowing expedition, with TIM’S JOKES ABOUT THE WAXWORKS orz
(MAG118) TIM: And anyways, it’s not like we're alone in here. Look. There’s Prince Charles. [GROANING] TIM: Oh, if he’d been in an accident. Or the Beatles! If they’d all been in separate accidents, like, like Ringo was in a horrible fire, or Paul was in a car crash, that’s a classic– ARCHIVIST: Yes, Tim. I remember them. The waxworks are… bad. […] BASIRA: So would you say this was supposed to be Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock? ARCHIVIST: Jowls like that, could be either.
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] […] BASIRA: These flares going to work? DAISY: No idea, but… Jon said The Web doesn’t get on great with fire, and we don’t exactly have a flamethrower, so… BASIRA: I mean, at least until we find the one Gertrude stocked [?? unintelligible, Daisy snorting too hard]. DAISY: [SNORT] BASIRA: Right next to the nukes…! […] ARCHIVIST: Well… [SIGH] We’re here now. Might as well push on. MELANIE: … Famous last words. [HUMOROUS EXHALES.]
It’s the same team, minus Tim, plus Melanie…
(Also, the reminder that Gertrude was all about fireweapons… Elias had taunted Leitner about “arson”, and he was positively seething when Martin had begun to burn statements, soooo… really, was Gertrude’s plan to deal with The Eye to burn down the Institute.)
- I’m sad that Melanie doesn’t get a nickname…
(MAG146) DAISY: [SIGH] Come on, Mel. I’ll see if I’ve got a stab vest in your size. MELANIE: … Yeah. Sure.
(MAG147) DAISY: Here, Mel. MELANIE: What even are these? DAISY: Magnesium flares. Technically not legal anymore; if you need more, just shout. MELANIE: Oh? Hum. Fine. [INHALE] Uh, and… and, please, don’t… call me “Mel”. DAISY: What? Since when? MELANIE: Always. I’m… [SIGH] trying to be more… o–open about this… stuff. DAISY: Roger Wilco, Miss King. MELANIE: Mm! Better.
… but I’m SO glad that:
1°) she has trouble, but clearly expressed that she didn’t like it. Worded her discomfort. Tried to fix something that was bothering her and directly impacting her. It’s hard, but she’s doing it.
2°) I’m so glad that Daisy immediately corrected herself, acknowledged it and didn’t even ask for a reason why Melanie didn’t like it. Melanie doesn’t like it, end of story, no fuss.
So no nickname for Melanie, but Daisy and Melanie sound even closer and good together!! ;w;
- Overall, GUUUUH, I’m. So proud of Melanie??? She’s been doing so much better!
(MAG123) BASIRA: Yeah. I did warn you. She’s not, uh… she’s not been having a good time. ARCHIVIST: Mm! Yeah, I did get that impression. [SIGH] Elias is gone. I thought… I mean, wasn’t that supposed to be… it? But she’s still… BASIRA: It’s not that simple. ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that.
(MAG125) BASIRA: Oh, yeah, the stuff she takes is pretty strong these days. She should be out for a while. … What? Sleep is hard.
(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Do–do you think it worked? Is she… BASIRA: I don’t know. She seems more… coherent, I guess. And you did get an apology. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. BASIRA: She said she can cry now, which is, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: Progress, I think? ARCHIVIST: Uh… BASIRA: She’s still angry but, she hasn’t attacked anyone. Not even sure she has it in her anymore. ARCHIVIST: Well that’s, that’s good! BASIRA: Hm.
(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: A–at least, it’s out! … Maybe… maybe it’s enough to start healing, start… letting go of the anger. MELANIE: Oh, just stop! Just stop and– listen. ARCHIVIST: Okay. MELANIE: Yes, the, the bullet was bad, right. But it didn’t make me angry. Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a long time. Years. Maybe since– oh, I, I don’t know, but…! Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve pushed for, was because I was angry! Angry of being past over, being disrespected, ignored… that sort of anger, it, it powers you! … Right until it slips out, and hurts someone. I – hurt someone. And then, one day, I suddenly have this thing that takes all that rage, and it holds it. Tells me it’s right. That it’s me. It didn’t stay in my leg because of some Ghostly Masterplan; it stayed… because I wanted it. ARCHIVIST: … Shit. MELANIE: Yes.
(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: If you don’t mind me asking, [STATIC:] where are you off to…? MELANIE: Therapy. [STATIC ENDS] … Wait. ARCHIVIST: Oh…! Oh, God, Melanie, I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh… MELANIE: [EXASPERATED SIGH] It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually, anyway. ARCHIVIST: Even so, I shouldn’t have– MELANIE: Just… forget it. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s good, though. I–I’m glad you’re getting help. MELANIE: Yes, well. We’ll see. There’s a… a lot of crap therapists out there. ARCHIVIST: I guess. Still, it–it is a good step. MELANIE: I suppose. ARCHIVIST: You want to tell them the truth? MELANIE: I don’t know! It’s all a bit… [SIGH] Y’know? Er… C… can we drop it. ARCHIVIST: Of course.
(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: The others are doing… better, I think. Basira’s busy doing research for something secretive, unsurprisingly. But she seems to be adjusting to, uh… the new Daisy. I actually like Daisy now, which is a… really weird feeling. [INHALE] Melanie’s quiet, but I think therapy’s helping.
(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: Oh, uh, therapy! You’re taking her to therapy! GEORGIE: She… told you, then? ARCHIVIST: Uh, yes. Yeah. GEORGIE: … Well, you don’t need to sound quite so psyched about it. She gets… nervous travelling there alone.
(Compare this with Elias’s:
(MAG127) ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender…
… go rot in jail, Elias. OH WAIT–) (It’s been almost a year for him, I hope it’s getting long and he’s feeling very bored.)
Still unsure whether Melanie’s therapist is Bad News (… even more concerning: I found Jon’s narration of Annabelle’s statement very close to the therapist’s own jumpiness), but… the therapy in itself seems to be working? She’s learning little tricks to improve her life and remain in control and calm? She is expressing boundaries? It’s good? Melanie!!!
- I’mmmmm a bit interrogative about the comment she made about Jon’s ~compulsion~ to read statement right away:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Of course, that’s not the real crux of the free will question that’s… bothering you at the moment, is it? I think that one probably comes down to whether or not you’re choosing to continue reading this statement out loud. You didn’t mean to, did you? No, I’m sure you told Basira and Melanie that you were going to glance over it and report back. Perhaps they asked you if you were going to record, and you shook your head – “Maybe later”. That sounds like the sort of thing you’d say. But think about it, Jon: when’s the last time you were able to read a statement quietly to yourself without instinctively hitting record and speaking it aloud? It is just instinct? Habit? Or is it a compulsion – a string pulled by the Ceaseless Watcher or the Mother of Puppets? Or both? I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…? But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.”
Alright, for the summaries, I… had been wondering about it. And we indeed got a demonstration with live-statements that Jon knew the subject and a few key elements even before beginning to hear the story – and alright, it might be how he knew what the tape was about in MAG146, although there couldn’t have been no name written on it (since Martin didn’t know Jess’s name and Jon is the one who reveals it):
(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: [INTERESTEDLY] You… FLOYD: Uh…? BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: You used to work for Salesa… FLOYD: W–what, you… Who did? I don’t know what you’re talking about. ARCHIVIST: Mikaele Salesa. You used to work on his ship. FLOYD: … I don’t know you. ARCHIVIST: [ARCHLY] But I know you. BASIRA: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Floyd Matharu. Served on the Dorian from 2011 to 2014. With Salesa. BASIRA: Jon, I’m not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I am. Tell me what happened. [STATIC INCREASES] FLOYD: W–what…? What is this? ARCHIVIST: Whenever you’re ready. FLOYD: A–a–alright. [STATIC DECREASES] … Sure… [SILENCE] He… he–he w–was a good boss, you know?
(MAG146) BASIRA: Martin left a tape for us. [SHUFFLING NOISE] ARCHIVIST: And what exactly is on this t– … Oh… MELANIE: Yes.
… But for written statements, we got recent examples where Jon… did some follow-up before recording, or apparently got acquainted with a statement without recording it right away? Cases in point:
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: The investigation is tricky, I don’t want to impose on Basira and, obviously, Melanie and… Martin… aren’t available, but I did do some light searching myself on Gregory Cox. … Vanished, unsurprisingly. […] No notes or follow-up here that I can see, just… [SIGH] It looks like the statement came in just after Gertrude disappeared. […]  There’s a small supplemental document with it, though, that is a… bit alarming. I–it’s apparently a list of people whose names appear in the various pieces of text Mr Cox was pasting into the code. It’s unclear if they were meant to be… users or victims, but I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement-givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery.
(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Regardless, I’ve hit another research dead end with this.
(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I did do a small bit of follow-up on Deborah Madaki, just for my own curiosity. She didn’t go to Sannikov Land in the end. I don’t know, however, whether that was because she decided not to, or because… shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one [Mary Randall] in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park Prison, where she remains to this day. I can’t find any evidence related to the condition of the body, but I can imagine what a sculptor’s apprentice might be capable of. Even an unwilling one.
(MAG127) BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLIPS PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.
(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: No one’s come seeking vengeance recently, though, and looking at the details for the British Steel Plant in Scunthorpe, it does seem like Eugene is still around. So I can only assume… some sort of equilibrium was found. (MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I did some more digging into Eugene Vanderstock. I thought he was still alive and… working at the steel plant, but it looks like he’s just listed on one of the old directory pages on their website. … I really miss having people who know their way around a computer better than I do…!
So: were those cases of Jon… forcing himself to not read the statements, but already knowing the names/summaries and trying to do some search before he would be compelled to read them, or was this… Annabelle trying to mess him up a bit more, playing on his fears and trying to make him panic even more strongly.
(The fact that Jon felt a compulsion to read the statements out loud is not a novelty: he mentioned it to Georgie in MAG093. What I’m curious about is that Annabelle seems to insist that the recording is on Jon, although Jon claimed in MAG146 that he isn’t the one hitting record anymore. Does he do it unconsciously? I had always wondered about Tim’s comment, in season 3, describing to Martin how he had got mad because Jon and him had tried to talk and Jon had reached for the tape recorder – the way Tim had described it, it… had felt, to me, as if Jon wasn’t really aware of it.
Outside of statements, though: we’ve had had tapes popping up when Jon physically wasn’t in the room, or not yet – so Jon hadn’t manually turned those on. In season 4, there was his encounter with Martin in MAG129 (the tape recorder clicked on when Martin was alone in the room, we heard Jon enter), and his walk in the tunnels with Melanie in MAG131 (we heard them getting closer, and Jon asked her to give him the tape recorder, which she had been unaware of). So. Are the tape recorders a purely Jon thing, whether he activates them manually (consciously or not) or supernaturally? Are they Web and/or Annabelle’s, and she tried to divert his attention there?)
- In the end, I found Annabelle’s statement almost… reassuring? (Oops.) Because, in a way, Basira had already provided a possible Answer to this:
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]
Basira had been presented by Daisy as more action-orientated and in a way… indeed, I’m not sure that “intentions” and “who is controlling” is the most fundamental focus of all? True that uninformed actions can have disastrous consequences (and Jon knows that: axing the Web table liberated the Not!Them, for example), but… Annabelle talked about how influences are numerous and their origins mostly unknown, or unable to be identified – it still leaves room for deciding who/what you want to be and what should matter to you? That you’re “you” as long as you decide? We had the case, in season 4, of Jon explaining his descent into the coffin as his own conscious choice, for his own (partially selfish) reasons, and… he brought some good, with that decision and action? 
(MAG136) DAISY: Jon… when you went into the coffin. Was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me, or was… that something telling you to do it? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: It was me. I was… drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. [PAUSE] It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY: What was it? ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. […] Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: It was a possibility.
And even in season 3, he had made the conscious choice of trusting the others, and of burning Gerry’s page – although both were hard, and he had to force himself to stick to it, but this is what he had chosen and who he wanted to be?
(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: Still, it does sometimes make it hard to… fully trust them, I– [SIGH] You– you know what, no. I’m… I’m done with that. No more paranoia. It’s almost got me killed more than once, and… Georgie was right. If I am… slipping, then I need people I can trust. And I… I don’t think that can happen naturally for me an–anymore, so… I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E– except Elias, obviously, that’s not– I mean… I’ve listened to the tapes. I’ve listened to the tape, I– I know what they talk about behind my back, how much they’ve… suffered, because of… this place… because of me.
(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: That’s it, then. I, I think. Except… [PAPER] I, uh… I haven’t burned it. Gerard’s page. … G–Gerry. I, I… I know there’s more he could tell me. He, he wouldn’t, of course, I, I, I know that, b–but he, he, it would still– b–be– there, that, that, that knowledge. I– It it would, it would still exist, I– I, I, I can’t. I… I want to help. I, I want to. But I… uh… I’m scared. On, on tape, just… just– just do it. [UNCAPPED LIGHTER] [HEAVY BREATHING] [SOUND OF A FLAME] Do it! [HEAVY BREATHING] [CRIES OF PAIN, BURNING SOUND] [HEAVY BREATHING, MUFFLED] I… [CAPPED LIGHTER, SHAKY VOICE] … you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in… … Just rest.
(I get that Annabelle is saying that there is always the idea that you’re never truly “you” because so many things are influencing you – but at the same time, I find it instead, yeah, oddly empowering because… “you” are your influences, too?)
(- Re: Jon, it’s. A really thin line, but at the very least, HE is still not fine with what he’s been doing:
(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: [QUIET] … That’s horrible… HELEN: Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist? ARCHIVIST: … Yes… HELEN: It would be better if you embraced it. ARCHIVIST: … It’s not…
(MAG146) DAISY: And the third was after the coffin. ARCHIVIST: A man rejected by all who knew him, searching ever-darker places for love. When he told me his story, he started… weeping maggots. BASIRA: Enough. ARCHIVIST: … I hope so.
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.
And from blaming to The Web to acknowledging his responsibility, and that it had felt “good”, this is progress; and it’s still something he is not embracing, that he’s not okay with, that upsets him. So yeah. The “I don’t want to stop” bit is worrying but… At the same time, the way he’s handling the situation doesn’t scream “I want to keep doing it” either. And I doubt the girls will allow it to happen.)
  - I wonder if Annabelle’s statement wasn’t technically meant to… give Jon his “Web” scar. I was positing until now that it had happened with A Guest for Mr Spider, as a kid, when he had been mincontrolled and had also watched the book’s effect on his bully, before it had snatched him – the loss of control on himself and on others. We (/I) tend to focus on the injuries-as-a-collection, as the mark of Jon experiencing the Fears, but technically, “experiencing” also happened to be about getting an inner understanding of their essence? I’m mostly thinking about The Unknowing, when he was able to finally pinpoint what was “Nikola” (what made The Stranger itself), and in the coffin, when he suddenly understood the nature of The Buried:
(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: … I see you. NIKOLA: Do you, now? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name.
(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: … Come on… [STATIC] [SHAKY BREATHING] DAISY: Jon? ARCHIVIST: I know… DAISY: Th–the way out? ARCHIVIST: No… I know where we are! There isn’t no out, not here. This is… this is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down… This is The Buried, and we are alive… There isn’t even an up.
… and curiously, alongside giving her own example and playing with Jon’s own fears of The Web and the loss of control, Annabelle… gave him a straight breakdown of the nature of The Web?
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Unless, of course, none of it was intentional. None of it was planned. The Mother is the fear of manipulation, and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete. Perhaps She is no more active than Terminus – simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory. Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach. Don’t… go to Hill Top Road again. [STATIC FADES]”
Basically, Annabelle threw Jon deep into the web by… making him doubt and fear that he could be manipulated (saying he wasn’t, then demonstrating that she could still do it, hence the final order, hence the mentions that she could have been lying all through her statement). So, giving him another paranoia fit while throwing him into the pit re: responsibility and potential guilt because he attacked people and those ones were on him.
- Annabelle’s considerations about “free will” and about Jon’s preoccupations indeed seem to play a lot with his current concerns and fears:
(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: I suppose that’s the question with so much of “violence”, “war”: how much are you really in command of yourself or of others? I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that deep down, everyone is in complete control of their actions, that everything is, on some level, intentional; or that ultimately, we don’t have any control of ourselves at all, and the rest is just… rationalisation.
(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin. To Daisy.
(MAG136) DAISY: [BREATHING HARDER, FASTER] Yeah, well… What do you think? You think I’m weak, just… [SIGH] ‘cause I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection [CHUCKLE] between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.
(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] The more I listen and learn, the more it seems to me we’re all just… “groping about”. Trying desperately to find out what we’re actually meant to be doing. [PAUSE] These things that… loom so large over our lives trap us, and push us, and… sometimes kill us. But they never actually tell us what we’re supposed to be doing. So we scheme and we plot, lash out at each other without ever really knowing why. […] But I’m really starting to worry that there aren’t any answers. Not like I want there to be. There aren’t any answers in Ny-Ålesund; there aren’t any answers in the past; I’ve been inside The Buried, and there were no answers there.
(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: There is… nothing in the world more reassuring than ignorance which we can mistake for certainty. But no. Almost every one of those statements, those… people… that poor old man…
… and technically, she didn’t give any answer either, no certainty. So it really feels like the big purpose was to mess with him? (… to feed herself, maybe? She did mention that The Web was about “loss of control made manifest”, too, and that’s… what Jon is experiencing right now, although he’s aware that he is responsible for his own actions, and that he’s entangled in Annabelle’s plans.)
- One thing that Annabelle mentioned regarding how The Web operates:
(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Looking back, of course… and remembering the crunch of used syringes beneath my feet, I realise that addiction… is one of the strongest vectors of control there is.”
And as usual, could be an exaggeration/misleading/making you focus on the outside aspects and elements rather than their effects but… it’s indeed true that there is an enormous proportion of addicts, especially smokers, who have come into contact with The Web – I had finally noticed it thanks to MAG136:
(MAG016, Carlos Vittery) “I walked out there one day with the intention of smoking a cigarette, sat on the rusty garden furniture that had come with the place, and looked up. There it was – stretched between two large branches, silhouetted against the sky it sat. […] I leapt up, and started to head back inside, but as I did my eyes flicked wildly around the rest of the garden, and everywhere they came to rest I saw more lurking spiders, more webs. There were dozens that I could see, which meant there must be hundreds more I could not.”
(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, The Hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But The Hunt… The Hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all.” […] “she locked eyes with me. The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. It wasn’t like with a vampire, where I would feel like I’d been spoken to. This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalising the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience of identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze, I probably would have done it, too.”
(MAG059, Ronald Sinclair) “We never really got into any proper trouble – but the sort of glares we got just for smoking on the street made me want to break a window sometimes. I never did, though. I’m… not quite sure why I didn’t, to be honest. Before I met Ray, I… would have. There were plenty of broken windows in my past. There was something about living there, though, that… dulled the urge. My memories of a lot of my time there are, well… not exactly foggy, but feel almost like I’m watching someone else’s memories. I remember that it sometimes felt like I do things, without actually deciding to do them – like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a… string gently guiding me. It was never bad, or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth.”
(MAG112, Alexia Crawley) “Brandon took to the role immediately, with a gravity and a weariness that I don’t think could have been entirely feigned. He was the only one who didn’t seem excited by the movie, and spent his off-hours smoking and reading quietly in one of the trailers. It was a shame because, for whatever reason, he also seemed to be the only one that Dexter would listen to. I only saw them talking once or twice but every time, Dexter would be wrapped, nodding at… whatever Brandon might have to say.”
(MAG136, Alison Killala) “Despite this or, maybe because of it… [Neil Lagorio and I] became friends. I think we bonded on that shoot; sheltering from the rain for hours at a time, watching a sobby animatronic jaguar gradually start to rust. I had to fight every instinct inside me, everything that wanted to burst out in admiration for his work and his… profound effect on my life. But instead I chain-smoked and laughed, trying my best to come across as my hero’s peer…!”
And it obviously put Jon’s smoking to mind. He had told Leitner that he had been quit for “five years” in February 2017 – except, well, he had cigarettes on him, so at this point, no, he was probably actually back to smoking already and presumably had been for a while. After he had opened the lighter’s package and denied smoking (MAG036, Tim+Jon: “You smoke?” “No… And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!”), Elias had commented about his smoking on July 29th 2016 (MAG040, “He’s not smoking again, is he?”) in a way that could mean… that either he knew about Jon’s Past As A Smoker, either Jon had been spotted with cigarettes recently (THAT’S CREEPY, CREEPY BOSS, ALL-SEEING OR NOT), and Tim’s snarky remark in February 2017 fit too well to think it was a completely random example (MAG079, “But he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like ‘sneaking a cigarette’ bad – like, properly bad.”). Daisy spotted his cigarettes in MAG091 (“SILK CUT”. FOREVER REMINDER THAT HE SMOKES “SILK CUT” OF ALL THINGS.), he offered one to Gerry in MAG111, Daisy pointed out his lighter in MAG136 and Jon apparently Can’t Think About It (static and then changing the subject) so… something is definitely up with the lighter, at the very least.
-> The moment Jon stopped smoking roughly matches the time he joined the Institute (since he had worked there for four years when he began the series, second-half/end of 2015), but also the death of his grandmother (he mentioned in MAG081 that she “peacefully passed away five years ago”) – was it related to one of those two events? Because he’ll definitely need to channel again the Jon from back then who had managed to quit. (… if he ever did. Because uh. Telling Leitner that he had been quit for five years, while he had cigarettes on him, was… Jon. Jon. You had broken your streak a long time ago, you absolute hypocrite disaster.)
-> And it was ~because he had suddenly wanted a cigarette~ that Jon had left Leitner alone in MAG080, giving an opening for Elias to Brutal Pipe Murder him – something that Nikola would later use to toy with him, by mixing it up with guilt:
(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: It is not! It’s not, I didn’t know, it’s not my fault you died! LEITNER: No, I suppose not. Me, on the other hand…  […] I understand, of course. You needed a cigarette! I suppose you should have remembered that smoking kills!
-> So once again: ELIAS, what do you KNOW about the Spiders running wild in your Institute, and about Jon’s lighter.
(- And the smoking/addiction being potentially usable by The Web puts me in mind of a few other people too:
(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I’d been out easily twice as long as any time before. But my dad didn’t say a word about it – just sat in front of the TV, laughing at some crappy panel show, smoking that… God-awful pipe that left the wallpaper yellow and peeling. I remember thinking he wasn’t content to just destroy himself. He seemed to have to take everything out around him.”
Extinction statement but. Gary’s dad was a vivid picture.
(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “The deaths were about a fortnight apart, and when the third came in with the same symptoms, Bianca, the coroner, called me in. For the last few years we’ve had an… arrangement. I slip her a bit of cash to feed a nasty habit she has, and if she’s called to any inquest which looks strange, I’m the first to know. Despite her weakness, Bianca is still a damn good coroner, and filled me in on the details quickly.”
………………. Adelard, who had been in possession of The Web Table at some point after its Hill Top Road days, and had been able to use it to bind and trap the Not!Them…
And. And. Technically, I cannot not mention:
(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. Elias Bouchard is a difficult man to pin down, certainly since he became head of the Institute in 1996, taking over from James Wright, who ran the place from ‘73 until he passed away. […] I found an old gossip column in the student newspaper that – sure well – that mentioned him. If I’m not reading too much into it, the implication seems to be that he was… something of a… pothead [CHUCKLE]. Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?
Listen: if I’m haunted by the mental picture of Elias, smoking weed in his office in March-or-May 2015 because the Institute’s budget is getting tight again, and suddenly shouting “You know what? I should totes KILL GERTRUDE to solve my problems. GENIUS!” while a spider scurries away.
then, you have to be inflicted with it, too.)
- Though Trevor had presented The Hunt as an “addiction”, and Jon’s own relationship to the statements had also been presented in such a way:
(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: I’d love to rattle off a lot of potential other reasons for this, nice rational causes of recovery, but… I feel we’re past the point of transparent rationalisations. It looks like the recording of statements has now passed over from psychological compulsion into… a more physical dependence. I don’t whether this is… some sort of classical addiction or something a bit deeper. But either way, this is not the time for experimentation. I’m on a deadline, and if I need to be reading statements to stay well enough, then I suppose that’s what I shall do.
Martin also name-dropped it in his list of potential reasons for Jon’s behaviour and the way he had attacked Jess for her live-statement, and then Jon first tried to blame it on an exterior influence before finally admitting that it was all him, wording it in a way… that indeed matches up with addiction too:
(MAG142) MARTIN: Oh, that can’t– that can’t… I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not, not really? It’s, what, addiction, instinct, maybe mind control, something like that? I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just…
(MAG146) BASIRA: He knows exactly what he’s doing. ARCHIVIST: I don’t–! Uh, it’s not that simple, it–it feels… [BREATHING QUICKENING] … I don’t know if I can control it, I don’t know if it’s even me doing it…! BASIRA: … So you say you’re being controlled. ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. Maybe? Th–The Web, it–
(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … Annabelle’s right, though. I mean– I can’t trust anything she says to not be another lie to further manipulate and manoeuvre us, but… deep down, I think she’s right. What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.
As of now, I’m not… utterly convinced by the addiction analogy for what is happening with avatars and people’s fears, though, but that’s mostly because I’m thinking in terms of effects, and the fact that in Avatars’ cases, the primary victims are not themselves but other people: here, the main problem is not that Jon has an addiction problem to (live or written) statements, but the fact that extorting live-statements causes pain, distress, fear and overall constant suffering, impacting and destroying the lives of other people (eg Jess). The fact that it makes him feel good or not… is not the most relevant thing as to why he has to stop it; I feel like talking of it solely as an “addiction” might be diminish the gravity of what he does a bit? (Which is why I’m grateful that Basira immediately summed up his actions as a criminal’s: yes, he’s attacked innocent people, yes, he’s acted monstrous, yes, he’s currently a danger.) (But then again… it could be a point to be made, that the statements are actually bad for Jon – that they feel good but that it is… a sort of reprieve, covering up other issues, and that no, fundamentally, these stories are still shattering him.)
However, it is probably the correct analogy to approach how they should get him to stop it or to control the craving – if… it is… even possible… which I’m not even sure about…
(- I am kind of expecting a talk about why the team shouldn’t just try to find a way to kill Jon off, if he can’t or won’t control it? Concretely, of course, it’s not like they would know how to do it: Jon heals fast, can’t harm himself, didn’t manage to get instantly destroyed by the Dark Sun. He has managed to get out of the coffin once and might be able to pull that off again – even if he went back inside willingly, he probably wouldn’t manage to stay inside forever, since he already had “regrets” about going inside after three days. Plus, Daisy had managed to get some distance from The Hunt and to separate herself from it when she was inside of the coffin, but we saw that Jon’s powers had still been active and kicking while inside – so that… doesn’t seem to be exactly an option for him (because The Eye is him/within him? Because The Buried relies on awareness, like The Vast, and it can’t totally be isolated from The Eye?)
But pragmatically, I still feel like the question of what-to-do-with-Jon-and-is-it-really-worth-it-to-ensure-that-he-stays-alive has to be raised…? (Or am I totally heartless for thinking that eh, even if I liked him a lot as a character, if he’s terrorising people and hurting innocents, then no, it’s not worth it, and I’m not interested in hearing him getting glimpses of genuine happiness or jokes or hopes while Jess and probably more are hurt and hurting and their lives utterly messed up because of him.) If Jon is going Monster and can’t/won’t stop, and given how the Assistants reacted, it might cross their mind, and rightfully so? I’m expecting them to at least contain/monitor him, as of now, to prevent further victims, although… it won’t solve anything on the long run. But I want it to stop, arrrrg orz Not solely because I don’t like random people getting hurt, but because it was… the reason… Jess had come to the Institute…
(MAG142) MARTIN: O–okay. Hum. [INHALE] Right, well… [EXHALE] Firstly, I’m re– I’m really sorry that this happened. Hum… in–in terms of next steps… JESS: Just, I just… I don’t know, y–you know, talk to him, I guess? J–just tell him, like, like, I mean that– it’s not okay. You know, right, I’m not… I don’t know what he did, but it– You know, he can’t just go around, and well, you know, just keep doing… MARTIN: Right. I–I understand. JESS: Good! … Well… You… I just, I don’t want to see him again, alright? Ever.
It was hard, it was awful to describe what had happened to her again, she got hit really badly by Institute, but she came because Jon had to be stopped… it was only for this that she came, we probably won’t hear her ever again, and I don’t want it to go to waste………………. ;_;
(YES, I know that we’re potentially heading towards a ritual getting completed and/or many, maaany people dying/getting tortured in the process – but I always find it harder to hear about personal stories than the overall broad picture, and I know that Jess won’t be okay ever (… well, Daisy confirmed the trick of signing up with the Institute to get rid of the dreams/come under The Eye’s protection, but Team Archives has never been… invested in saving/helping people they didn’t personally know), but it’s even worse if her complaint doesn’t mean anything in the end… ;;))
  - Okay, so. Probably off-track and gratuitous long tangent but, eh, that’s what speculation is about, right?
I got a bit of a punch over MAG147’s date, because suddenly, time had moved… very fast towards a few Archives Anniversaries. Annabelle’s statement was dated 20th July, 2018; it’s already one month since the expedition to The Dark (Jon took Manuela’s statement on June 16th, in MAG143) and… we’re getting close to the anniversaries of both:
* Jane Prentiss’s attack on the Archives, July 29th 2016.
* The Unknowing attempt, August 06-07th 2017.
… And Jon is very conscious of the time passing, of the dates – he sighed about his perception of time in MAG123 (realising that two years had passed, and that he… hadn’t “lived” the entirety of them), and even mentioned the Institute’s anniversary as a source of dread:
(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man. … Exactly two hundred years, in fact. Don’t think that little detail has evaded me. I don’t know the precise date the Institute was founded, but I do know that it was in 1818. … Something’s coming. I know it is. … But I just don’t know what I need to do.
These are of course also the anniversaries of Sasha’s death, Tim’s death. The reminder, too, that Martin is the last one of the original assistants still alive, and so far one has died every summer since Jon was appointed as Head Archivist – if there was a moment to panic over the Assistants “symbolically” being in danger because there is a pattern, it would be now. Daisy mentioned Jon’s PTSD in MAG142, we got a reminder that Jon still had Jane Prentiss’s ashes in his desk in MAG140:
(MAG140) BASIRA: Er… Jon. What’s this. [DRY SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Mm? … Oh. That’s… [SILENCE] That, uh, that’s… my rib? BASIRA: … Right. [PUTS IT DOWN] ARCHIVIST: Yup… BASIRA: And… the jar of ashes. ARCHIVIST: Not– Not mine; I–I mean, it belongs to me, I–I guess, but it’s not… Er, stationery is in the other drawer?
Could have been nothing more than a casual joke but with the anniversary at the corner… I’m not so sure.
But mostly, I’m thinking about Tim.
I’m still… very surprised that Tim was mentioned so little in season 4, when it had been extremely important for Jon that Tim make it back alive?
(MAG118) TIM: You thought you brought me in as a distraction, right? ARCHIVIST: What?! TIM: Let me do it! Go in, maybe you can get some of them– ARCHIVIST: Tim, contrary to what you think, I did not bring you here to indulge your death wish! TIM: It’s not what this is! ARCHIVIST: No?! TIM: No! You knew I might not be coming back! ARCHIVIST: I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing! TIM: Oh, except for those people in there! ARCHIVIST: They’re already dead! TIM: Not all of them! ARCHIVIST: I am not losing you as well!!
Sasha had been dead for more than six months when Jon realised what had happened, and Tim&Martin learned about it even later – even then, she was… mentioned so much. Nikola pretended to be her during The Unknowing, taunted him about the possibility of her resurrection (“Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! […] No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~!”), prompting a visceral reaction from Jon. Sasha was on Martin’s lips, too, when he confronted Elias and his (in)actions. But Tim… from what I recall, this is all we got about Tim this season:
(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Er, the others. T–Tim? Is he… [SILENCE] Oh… [SILENCE] BASIRA: … Daisy, too. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … I’m sorry. […] You’re… sure a–about Tim? BASIRA: Yeah, they, er… They found his remains a few days later.
(MAG123) MELANIE: How did you make it out, then, mm? ARCHIVIST: What? MELANIE: Tim is dead. Daisy is dead. And you, what? You’re just fine? ARCHIVIST: No, I’ve been in hospital for six months! […] Melanie, Melanie: it’s… it’s me. MELANIE: Oh! Okay, so what, “Hi Jon, how are you, get anyone killed lately?” ARCHIVIST: … I… MELANIE: Wipe that look off your face. Like you’re not the reason all of this is happening.
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that. […] So: we’re under siege; Melanie is aggressively unstable; Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him; and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of! BASIRA: That isn’t funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: I know it’s not–! … Sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot.
(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I have no theories on it, no… no sudden insights. [SIGH] I wish I could talk it through with Martin. … Or Tim. [SHORT SAD CHUCKLE] Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we…? … Everything’s changed. … [SIGH]
(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. … I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad… … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives…
(MAG133) BASIRA: Good. As far as I can see, Gertrude Robinson was the most effective person in this place. ARCHIVIST: … That’s what Tim said as well.
Plus, from Martin:
(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare. ELIAS: I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And Jon – more or less.
(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this.
And I’m still sad, and a bit curious?, about the fact that… Jon had heard Tim’s last words to him, but told Basira he couldn’t remember how The Unknowing had gone:
(MAG119) TIM: Back! Get back! That’s right. Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY AND FAR] Tim…? TIM: I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.
(MAG122) BASIRA: How much do you remember? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… Music. Everything was wrong. Gertrude was there, and then… dancing. I think? Then… pain. And I was somewhere else. Dreaming.
Are the memories truly lost, and they’ll never be aware of the fact that Tim pulled the trigger, took his revenge for Danny’s death, and saved the world – and that Jon was never to be forgiven? Or are they stuck somewhere in Jon’s subconscious? Are they buried and meant to be dug out, or… forgotten?
“Grief” has been surprisingly absent this season. We know that Martin had the added dimension of losing his mother – which had… already been an open wound for a while (her refusing to see him), made worse by Elias (revealing to him that she hated him, and why, and carving “what she was seeing” whenever she looked at him into his mind), until she died two months later, and… he explicitly bore that death alone:
(MAG127) BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]
(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.
It makes a lot of sense, for Martin, to be especially vulnerable to The Lonely: he always had… trouble connecting with others, and his relationships were shown to be ultimately one-sided. He was hovering around and crushing on Jon while Jon was suspecting him of murder; his mother disliked him and refused to let him take care of her, trying to cut ties; even Tim admitted that he didn’t know Martin as well as he used to know Sasha, and avoided him like he did the other new assistants (we didn’t hear them interact again after MAG104, which only happened by accident and chance). He explicitly didn’t like Daisy, in season 3; had been snappy to Basira, and both Basira and Melanie didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about him, although Martin had shown sympathy towards Melanie in MAG108 (and then, Melanie fell deeper to the Slaughter bullet, and Basira began to turn more callous and calculating). Overall, the fact that he was aware that he hadn’t been able to notice that Sasha had been replaced probably didn’t… help.
But it’s mostly that absence of… anything about the loss of Tim that surprises me a bit, and I find it interesting that neither Jon and Martin apparently took the time to grieve. Aside from “addiction” (reminder that Jude used drugs too!), there’s something else that has been present in quite a few avatars’ storylines – depression. Oliver began to dream when he was depressed (MAG011, “I barely made it through a full year before the stress of my new job, not to mention some problems in my personal life, led to me having a full nervous breakdown. I’d broken up with Graham, my boyfriend of six years and had to leave the home we shared, going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans. It was there, sleeping on my friend Anahita’s sofa, in the depths of my misery, that I first started to have the dreams.”), Jude was going through a burn out when she met Agnes (MAG089, “The point was, that I burned through too much of myself, because I didn’t know what else I could burn. My girlfriend saw it, though she had no idea how to help with the deep depression that had settled over me. […] I was burned out in every sense but one. And that was the one that saved me. It was Agnes, of course. I don’t know where she found me, I only remember sitting in a booth with a beautiful young woman who smelled like matches and incense.”). Kinda goes well with “addiction” in the idea that the Fears tend to recruit people when they’re vulnerable? But keeping Jon in mind, Daisy, mostly, had repeatedly pointed out that he hasn’t been fine for a while:
(MAG136) DAISY: You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST: I what? DAISY: You need to stop swanning around, being all sad. ARCHIVIST: I’m, I’m not “swanning around”– DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira– ARCHIVIST: Traumatised; traumatised; and paranoid, because of me. DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming?
(MAG142) DAISY: I, I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff. MARTIN: What?! DAISY: Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the Section’d. Not like there’s… “normal” trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless. MARTIN: Oh, god… DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive. MARTIN: Yeah, well. We’ve all had trauma. DAISY: And everyone’s changed.
(MAG143) HELEN: … How was it? ARCHIVIST: Mm? HELEN: Looking upon The Dark. ARCHIVIST: I thought I was going to die. HELEN: You seem to think that a lot. I remember when you thought you were going to die at my threshold. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah.
And it would’t be surprising if the fact that neither Martin&Jon took the time, nor did work on grieving… contributed, a lot, to put them in such a bad headspace – Jon feeding from people, being in denial over his responsibility and not trying to actively stop it nor warning the others about it, Martin admitting that the temptation of The Lonely is working on him.
At the end of season 3, Tim’s very last scene, very last words… were technically a reference to a joke about depression&therapy:
(MAG119) TIM: You sound stressed. You know, I hear the Great Grimaldi’s in town. You should go see him. Cheer yourself up. NIKOLA: That’s. not. funny. TIM: I know. [LOUD EXPLOSION] [CLICK.]
(And Peter Lukas had offered Martin to go to therapy (MAG120, “And if you want to talk to a counsellor, the Institute will of course cover any cost.”), although… yeaaaah, coming from Peter, it just sounded. Plain bad.)
It introduced the theme a bit; season 4 then made it pretty clear that in this universe, actual therapy is not a bad thing. We saw it with Melanie, though she did express cautiousness about it (it’s not a Miracle Solution, some therapists are bad or don’t fit you). We saw it with Jess:
(MAG142) JESS: So. It… It took a long time to get over that. I mean… That’s not weird, right? I mean, it was a bad time. You know? It–it stays with you. I was signed off for, what, probably about six months, with the injuries? I had pretty bad, uh, nightmares, claustrophobia, I mean… Obviously, right? But, uh, but–but I did my physio, and, you know, talked wi–with the counsellor they gave me? Look, I did everything I was supposed to, and–and yeah, I… I guess I was fine. You know, once the bruises were gone, I… Well, it’s easy to blame memory, right? You know, ha–hallucination, coincidence, all the… classic shite you tell yourself. Look, life went back to… normal, I… I was fine. Until… [CHOKING] about two weeks ago. MARTIN: And that was when you met J– … Er, one of our employees.
Even Gertrude had directed Lucia towards someone – she sounded… very manipulative and lying through her teeth about the nightmares (? She would know that no, Lucia’s wouldn’t stop, especially after giving her statement?), but I have trouble picturing Gertrude doing the extra effort of recommending someone and actively searching for their contact information if it was just to get rid of Lucia (she really didn’t need to do so, the statement was over and Lucia hadn’t asked for anything!); if Gertrude recommended them, it’s probably that she genuinely knew that it could help?
(MAG130) LUCIA: H… uh. Will it help? GERTRUDE: I’m sorry? LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like; that said, I do believe most people find the process of giving a statement to be rather… mm, cathartic. And whatever nightmares your experience has left you with, I’m sure they won’t be bothering you much longer. […] And do you feel any better? LUCIA: No. GERTRUDE: Mm, that’s a shame. Hang on, let me see if I can find you the number for that counselling service. They’re actually quite good.
We’ve had a broad gallery of characters handling their traumas in different ways, this season. Melanie is going to therapy, and whether her therapist is Web/Eye/Lonely or not… it is working to help her get some control over herself. She’s quieter, she expresses her boundaries – far from losing her voice, she is… reappropriating it. Daisy has not sought out professional help, but she’s careful about how she handles herself, the symptoms and how to prevent falling off – she seeks out company, she talks, she communicates, she tries to repair bridges, while remaining overall careful:
(MAG136) DAISY: [QUICKLY] You’re not babysitting me, alright?! I know that’s what the others think, sometimes, but… that’s not it. I just… don’t like…  being on my own if I can help it. You know. Flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST: I know, Daisy, I–I do. It’s hard.
(MAG144) DAISY: No, I’m ju– [SIGH] Just ignore me. Continue with… whatever. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Are you alright? DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know?
And on the other side, just like Jon and Martin, Basira just… tried to deal with things on her own, and partially failed and hurt herself in the process:
(MAG128) BASIRA: Do you know how I survived the… The Unknowing? ARCHIVIST: I… No. No, I don’t. BASIRA: No powers, no… magic or… help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did. A little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out. I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare. ARCHIVIST: Good lord… BASIRA: Then everything ended, and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute, and Martin send me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than one hour. I can trust me, Jon. That’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]
And it could be that Jon… should have gone for therapy, too, and never will. But if there was ever a moment for him to try it out as a way to handle himself, I feel like it could be now? He had been constantly adamant about not going for it and… his reject resurfaced very recently with Georgie:
(MAG058) MARTIN: He’s just under a lot of pressure. You know how messed up he’s been since Prentiss. TIM: How messed up he’s been?! MARTIN: Of course, I’m sorry – sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t, just– TIM: No! Because I didn’t start stalking my co-workers! MARTIN: Maybe try talking to him. TIM: Sure. Like he doesn’t already look at me like I’m a murderer. MARTIN: Look, look, you just got to let me work through this. Alright? I suggested therapy, but he just says no, so– TIM: Well, we need to do something! MARTIN: Yeah, maybe.
(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I’m… I’m alright. I’m trying to, uh… rest up a bit. Take it easy. [HUFF] GEORGIE: Really? ‘Cause… I’m pretty sure I heard talking about a screaming headless corpse just now. ARCHIVIST: Oh… Oh. W–were you… listening? GEORGIE: Oh, uh. Didn’t mean to. You know. These… doors are not that thick. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Fine. I’m deep in it. Had some… “close calls”. [SILENCE] GEORGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. [PAUSE] … You should probably get some therapy too. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] Would you go with me as well? GEORGIE: … No. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … No, I thought as much.
Because concretely, what can they do now, re:Jon, and what can Jon do about this “addiction” of his to destroy people…? Could be that precisely, it’s over, they’re just trying to buy a bit of time, but Jon is Done For, and either he’s dying at the end of this season, either he’s going full monster. But if there is a solution to at least attenuate the problem, my money is on therapy, with how the theme has popped up here and there, together with “control (of yourself)”…? (And it was especially jarring, in this episode, how… I got the feeling that Jon was aiming for Free Therapy in front of the tape recorder? Except it’s a one-sided exchange, it’s him talking to himself, and he’s not equipped for self-analysis.) (And there is something to be said, maybe, about how inflicting Fears and misery on others and the whole “Feed what feeds you, or it will feed on you”, is textbook “hurting others to not hurt yourself/to stop hurting yourself? So, I don’t know. It’s spooks, it’s alien entities, but we’ve always had a mix of supernatural and down-to-earthness when it came to dealing with the entities and their effects… so maybe there would still be a way to unravel Jon’s issues in a positive way, for once.)
(Aaaah, I’m mostly interested in the idea of Melanie and Daisy talking to Jon about the influence of powers and personal responsibility, potentially more… quietly, after a few days, once they’ve all cooled down. Because Daisy might feel grateful for Jon for having pulled her out of the coffin, and I really doubt she would give up on him. Melanie… a bit less, and she used to genuinely dislike Jon, but she still Knows What It’s like. Both would have rightful reasons to feel bitter/annoyed/mad, though, that Jon has been spilling advice here and there, presenting himself as the voice of reason… and was absolutely not following through with his own actions, once again.)
(- Re: Annabelle’s statement. I have no Personal Offended Feelings about the jovial call-out directed towards the red-strings theorist (“simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory.”), because 1°) THAT’S FAIR BUT HOW ‘BOUT I DO IT ANYWAY, 2°) I’m mostly amused because it adds to the pile of things about how I live TMA as I lived Umineko. I already had a list of things they share that I was amused about (tea, comatose love-interest, and (DUCT) tape, etc.), and I can now add to it “writer using a female character to shout at his fanbase when they’re fumbling around trying to understand The Fuck Is Happening”. Spider woman really interested in stories, insufferable/absolutely awful Witch of Theatregoing, Drama and Spectating – same struggle.)
MAG148’s title is out and OOOOOOOH does it. Sound. Like. Another. Beholding episode. Which would be our 4th already this season – it’s… a lot more than previous ones, really making it feel like The Eye is getting more present and threatening. (Could technically be The Web, too, with that weird intertwining of them that we got lately! Or just plainly Annabelle again.) As for the content: there is an obvious joke to make about Elias and the title would also fit him awfully well (sob); obligatory thinking about MAG003’s Graham; Adelard Dekker had referred to half of it in relation to Gertrude back in MAG113… But mostly: it could… accurately describe the Assistants deciding to monitor Jon? And statement-wise, it mainly screams “PANOPTICON” to me. So. Historical statement once again from the Jonah-Smirke era – or even from earlier, from Jeremy Bentham himself…? (Or from Jonathan Fanshawe post-1831, because so far, with what we learned about him, he had gotten away, and I liked him and I can’t have nice things.) Not necessarily read by Jon; we could switch to Martin again, since Peter had stated that he needed the Institute for his plans, and he had already read Smirke’s letter to Jonah Magnus last time. (… Or it could also be from one of Jon’s three other unnamed victims from season 4 orz)
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vfdarkness · 5 years
Text
A Voice From Darkness - Ep2 - Do Not Ask Questions
Below is a transcript for the second episode of our horror & dark fantasy audiodrama. You can listen to it on Apple, Google Play, wherever you normally listen to podcasts or here. 
INTRO
Dark ambient drone.
RYDER
You are in your bedroom late at night. You hear your child call out for help. You rush down the hall only to find two versions of your child. You're unsure which is the true one - and which the imposter.
A beat.
RYDER
You need my help.
DARK AMBIENT DRONE CHANGES TO:
INTRO MUSIC
RYDER
This is A Voice From Darkness.
Intro music continues, but gradually fades out.
ACT I
RYDER
Hello, this is Dr. Malcolm Ryder, parapsychologist. As always, If you're experiencing anything supernatural, paranormal, unexplainable in anyway. Please call in. I'm here - to help.
A beat.
RYDER
While we wait for a call to come in, I have to say, it is a gorgeous evening in Chicago. On my way into the studio I got off the brownline two stops early and walked the rest of the way. Oh, and we have a call on the line. Let's patch them through. Hello caller, you're on the air. Tell us your name and the nature of the otherworldly situation you find yourself in.
All of Rachel's dialogue has the SFX of coming through a phone.
RACHEL
(frantic)
Rachel. Rachel. My name's Rachel. There's people in my car. There weren't any before, but then they - they appeared. What do I do - what - what...
RYDER
(interrupts)
What part of the country are you in?
RACHEL
They don't... they don't look human. Their faces... they're long. Pale. Their eyes. Oh my god, their eyes...
RYDER
(interrupts)
What part of the country are you in?
RACHEL
Wyoming. Why does that matter?
There's an unfriendly teeth chattering/clicking sound through the phone - followed by a gasp from Rachel.
RYDER
Listen to me carefully. Do not ask questions. Do not stop driving. Do not say another word unless answering a question from me.
A beat.
RYDER
In your car are the Unwelcome Riders. You're on I-80, correct?
No response.
RYDER
Rachel, you can answer my question.
RACHEL
Yes. Yes I am.
RYDER
And you went through the Green River Tunnel.
That's when they appeared in your car - as you exited the tunnel.
RACHEL
I went through a tunnel. I don't know the name of it.
RYDER
It's the Green River Tunnel. The Unwelcome Riders - they appear in traveler's vehicles. Mostly people who are alone.
RACHEL
I am alone. I was alone. I'm moving across the country - to Chicago. Your city. I got a job offer there. Will - will I make it?
There's a chattering sound through the phone.
RYDER
Do not ask questions. If you ask questions, they will... well, let's not talk about that. But yes, Rachel. If you listen to me, do as I say, you will make it to Chicago. It's a beautiful night tonight - you heard me say that earlier? It's going to be beautiful all week long. We'll get you here safe and you can see it for yourself.
RACHEL
I'd like that.
The chattering of The Unwelcome Riders continues.
RACHEL
They're all - they're all making noises.
RYDER
Yes, I can hear them. You're lucky. There're eight "families" of Unwelcome Riders - at least that we know of. The ones in your car - the Green River Tunnel Family - is one of the least likely to... to follow through with their ritual.
RACHEL
What's there-
RYDER
(interrupts)
Do. Not. Ask. Questions. Do not ask questions. Do not exit the road you're on - until I tell you to. If you do either of these things...
A beat.
RYDER
You're unlikely to make it to Chicago. Do you understand?
RACHEL
Yes. But... how do I...
She stops herself.
RACHEL
Tell me under what conditions they'll leave my car.
RYDER
A little over twenty miles from the Green River Tunnel is a tourist attraction called Little America. Have you seen signs? How far away are you?
RACHEL
I just past a sign, it's ten miles away.
RYDER
Good. Drive there. Park your car at the tourist stop. It doesn't matter if it's open or closed.
Rachel shudders.
RACHEL
One of them. One of the ones in the back is stroking my hair. What do I...
She stops herself from asking the question.
RACHEL
Tell me what to do to get it to stop.
RYDER
I - I don't know. I don't recall any of them exhibiting that behavior before.
Ryder pulls out a book and frantically flips through pages.
RYDER
Give me a minute. I have written accounts in front of me. All known incidents involving the Unwelcome Riders.
RACHEL
(crying)
My hair. My hair is falling out. When... when it touches me, it's like my hair and skin are dying.
RYDER
Give me a minute, Rachel. Let's go to Today in Odd America while I review my research.
TODAY IN ODD AMERICA
TIOA music plays.
RYDER
Today in Odd America we find ourselves in Delton, Nebraska. The year, 2010. Delton, like many rural Midwestern towns was dying. The young fled for bigger cities. Half the town was unemployed. The other half on disability. Or drug addicts. The community was in a state of despair.
A beat.
RYDER
Until a Stranger came to town.
A beat.
RYDER
Yes, you've heard those words on this show before - and they nearly always denote the arrival of The Traveling Salesman. And this story - the story of Delton, Nebraska - is the last known sighting of that dark dealmaker.
A beat.
RYDER
The people of Delton gathered in their town hall. They were told a man arrived who had jobs - jobs for everyone who wanted one. Well-paying jobs. The people of Delton liked this man. He stood before them in their hall - He was handsome, but not in the way of a Hollywood star. He wore a grey suit, but nothing too fancy. However he was missing his left ring finger. The people of Delton did not know that this was a tell-tale sign - a warning - that the man who stood before them was no man at all... but The Traveling Salesman. A monster if ever there was one.
A beat.
RYDER
The Traveling Salesman told Delton that he represented a company - that company's name, I do not know - but the company he told them - had made a wondrous technological breakthrough. One that would change the way Americans worked forever. And they wanted to start with the town of Delton. "How would you all like to work in your sleep?" The Traveling Salesman asked. "No fooling," he said. "With our technology, we can put you to work in your bed at night. Come work for us in your dreams, get paid, and have your waking hours all to yourself."
A beat.
RYDER
It sounded too good to be true. And of course it was.
A beat.
RYDER
Those who agreed to The Traveling Salesman's deal - most of the town I'm afraid to say - dreamed that night of a scarcely-lit concrete warehouse. Above, from the second story, they saw windows looking down on the warehouse floor. Frosted glass windows. From behind, could be seen the silhouette of a gigantic creature - with the abdomen and thorax of a spider. But impossibly long human arms. And its heads. Its heads in a shape like nothing the people of Delton had ever seen before.  The dream-workers performed the same monotonous task all throughout the night - filling a black sand into cardboard boxes, sealing the boxes shut, and placing them on a conveyor belt. The boxes disappeared from the factory.
A beat.
RYDER
When the dream-workers awoke, they were exhausted. They experienced no rest from their sleep. And so, during the day, they'd attempt to sleep again. But they found themselves right back in the same concrete warehouse. Working another shift.
A beat.
RYDER
The Traveling Salesman had stayed in town to encourage others to accept his offer. Many of the dream-workers went to him, begged him to let them quit. They wanted their sleep back. No amount of money was worth what they'd bargained away. The Traveling Salesman told them - sorry, but he wasn't their boss. Their boss could be found in their dreams, behind the frosted glass of the second floor. If they desired to quit, they merely had to go tell the creature there they wished to.
A beat.
RYDER
None quit. Soon after, all the dream-workers of Delton died from exhaustion. The Traveling Salesman disappeared. As he always does. He has not been seen since. The town of Delton is no more. Where its buildings and streets once stood - there is now only black sand.
A beat.
RYDER
If you see a handsome man who wears a grey suit and offers you a deal too good to be true, remember to look at his left hand. Look at his ring finger. If it is missing, turn his deal down, and run from him. That is the only way to possibly survive The Traveling Salesman.
A beat.
RYDER
This has been Today in Odd America.
ACT II
RYDER
Rachel, are you still there?
RACHEL
Yes.
RYDER
I found a case - similar to yours - with the hair stroking. Normally, if one encounters the Green River Tunnel Family, they simply park their car at Little America and wait thirteen minutes. The Unwelcome Riders then disappear from the vehicle. In this case though...
A beat.
RYDER
I'm afraid you'll need to do a bit more.
RACHEL
Anything. Anything to get through this.
RYDER
How far are you from Little America?
RACHEL
I'm almost at the exit.
RYDER
Good. Go there. Park in one of the odd numbered spots in front of the hotel.
RACHEL
What if there aren't any-
(interrupted)
RYDER
We'll worry about that if it happens. But not before then.
We hear the car driving, the turn signal to indicate the car is taking the exit.
RYDER
Do you have something sharp on you? Something you could stab or cut with?
RACHEL
Do I need to stab or cut them?
Angry Chattering. Rachel screams.
RACHEL
The one behind me. It ripped out a chunk of my hair.
RYDER
You asked a question. They don't like questions. Do you have a knife or something sharp?
RACHEL
I think I have a box cutter in the glove box.
RYDER
When you park, you'll need it.
RACHEL
But one of them - one of them is sitting in front of it. How do I -
(stops herself)
I won't be able to get the box cutter without reaching across the... the Unwelcome Rider - the one in the front passenger seat.
RYDER
You'll have to reach across and open the glove box.
RACHEL
I'm parking. Parking in spot number three.
We hear the car slowing, breaking. The car shifted into park.
RYDER
Good. They'll like that number. Get your box cutter.
We hear Rachel's heavy breathing as she slowly reaches across the creature.
She opens the glove box. She moves things around inside.
And grabs the box cutter.
She slams the glove box shut again.
RACHEL
I have it. I have it. It didn't stop me from getting it or touch me or anything.
RYDER
Listen now - you need to open the box cutter - get the blade out. And you need to - you need to cut yourself. Across the palm of your hand. Make an X on the palm of your hand. So two cuts. Neither of them can be shallow. You must bleed.
RACHEL
I can't. I can't. You didn't tell me I'd have to do that.
RYDER
If you don't do that. If you don't follow the instructions I give you - you will disappear. The Unwelcome Riders will take you with them. Where to - I have no idea. Anyone who's been abducted by them - any of the families - has never returned. You must do this if you want to make it to Chicago.
Rachel winces.
RACHEL
I - I did it. I cut myself. There's a bloody X on my right hand. Is that it?
Angry chattering.
Rachel screams.
The chattering and scream fade away.
RYDER
Rachel? Rachel? Are you still there?
A beat.
RYDER
Rachel?
A beat.
RYDER
(underbreath)
You were so close. So close. Why did you ask another question? Why did you ask so many questions? You could have... you could have made it. You almost did.
A long pause.
RYDER
(exhausted)
That's all for this evening. Please - if you're having any problems that are... supernatural. Paranormal. Call-in next time. On A Voice From Darkness.
Outro Music.
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smash-chu · 5 years
Note
All of the fantasy asks!!
Fairy- What is something that you get excited about?
A lot of things, it’d be hard to list everything but i get excited about things in games i like, seeing people i care for being excited, and whatnot! I also get excited about drawing something really well and also knowing it will be liked
Mermaid- What are you looking forward to?
Uhhhh, that thingy with you whenever that happens :3 And i guess seeing where life takes me, as well as looking forward to more summers, i love summer
Elf- What are you proud of?
That i decided to keep on drawing! 
Dragon- Sexuality?
Ace, probably, haven’t really bothered to figure that stuff out
Griffin- Gender?
I’ve gone with female for as long as i have known, so i s’pose that
Unicorn- Who do you look up to?
My friends! I don’t have any particular people that i look up to per say, some artists can be inspiring though sometimes
Spirit- Have you ever been in love?
No idea :b Maybe? I honestly don’t know for sure
Ghost- Favorite song?
Hard to pick!! I love plenty of songs, i’ve been listening to this a lot tho recently because it’s nostalgic and makes me happy
Poltergeist- Favorite song lyric?
This entire song, it’s so pretty it sometimes makes me cry, it’s an innocent, sweet song that just overwhelms my soul with a feeling of hearth
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lGCOWadWE2Q
Ghoul- Who is someone that makes you laugh easily/who’s company you enjoy most of, if not all of, the time?
You, you goof :b As in the person sending this ask
Goblin- What makes you happy?  
Seeing people i like being happy
Dwarf- Favorite tv show?
Hah! I don’t watch tv! Nor shows these days! Luckily i can just say the moomins cause reasons~ Oh and Pokemon, but i stopped watching that after the gen 5 season came out cause that was also when it took a major halt in being released in Sweden :b
Vampire- Are you currently reading any books? If so, what book(s)?
I don’t read many books, mostly cause i know little to no good books and spend so much time drawing and doing other things! I do read a webcomic atm :3c Which i should keep on reading..
Werewolf- Who is your family? Who do you live with?  
My family is my straight parents n my three younger siblings, they are a silly bunch! I currently live with no one but there are plans for that to change :3
Siren- Favorite color?
This beautiful thing! I love a lot of colors tho
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Hobgoblin- Do you like anyone?
:3
Wraith- Any scars?
Yeah i have scars on one of my eye lids from a big lump i had growing on it when i was young, it went away but it left it’s mark! Fun fact, it happened on both, but only one left a scar. There’s also a very faint and barely visible scar from when i hit my chin against a rock when i was younger. I also have stretch marks, but i dunno if those count.
Specter- Have you ever been in love?
Bitch this is the same question as the one earlier, the fuck
Chimera- Will you/do you want to get married?
Oh i wonder what the answer to that is UwU 
Changeling- Do you want children?
No idea, based on the fact that i’m scared of pregnancy and already hate my uterus to oblivion i will never bear a child myself that’s for sure, but if given the time, resources and motivation, i would maybe consider adoption later in life
Oracle- Do you like children?
Yes and no, they can be incredibly annoying, but also funny and carefree. I do respect them though and won’t be a jerk to a child, but i in general avoid having anything to do with them if i can.
King- Describe your ideal day.
My ideal day is one where everything is chill, there’s no chore that needs to be done, i have no commissions or schoolwork, literally anything is within my reach and i can hang with my best friend.
Queen- Age?
20!
Princess- What is your relationship with your parents like?
Chill, they owe me stuff and i tend to help them out a lot more than they would like, but hey good on them raising a child who saves up a shit ton of money when given the chance :b I like them but they also feel hard to talk to, too, there’s still that thing in me that doesn’t like facing them despite me being an adult and they treating me as such.
Prince- Birthday?
The 17th of February!
Necromancer- If you could spend a week with anyone, alive or dead, who would it be?
My best friend, the sender of this ask :3
Castle- What is something that not a lot of people know about you?
I work towards goals other people would not expect nor think would be a thing, oh and i also like never ever brush my hair because i’ve given up on trying to tame my wild mane of curls - i am at it’s mercy
Tower- What is (at least one thing) something that you’re afraid of?
Talking to my parents about stuff that involve saying no to something they want. Falling down my stupid stairs on accident. Hurting people i love on accident. I also have a strange fear of construction machines which i can’t explain.
Magic- Describe your crush without saying their name.
The fuck is a crush lmao, i can give my info on things like appearance vise! Tall, long hair, freckles, glasses, chubby and friendly looking! Both of my best friends i’ve had over the years had those features, so that might be why i like those things
Enchanted Forest- Height?
4′11″ i’m always the shortest in any squad i am in and i contribute by making people feel tall for once, never expect me to successfully get anything off a high shelf unless you wish to see me go on a dangerous climbing quest
Magic Healer- Any pets? If so, what are they?
Don’t got no pets of my own, but my family owns a lil doggo named Zigge! Unless one counts the spiders in my house, in which case i have a big cellar spider named Sanic (cause she fast) and a occasionally visiting jumping Spider named Stripey.
Potions- Relationship status?
Single, duh
Potion Making- Would you kiss the last person you kissed again?
I don’t even remember who i last gave a kiss to in the flesh, so i dunno
Divination- What do you think about yourself?
I’m certainly a person! I love my own sense of humor cause i often amuse myself and like how creative i am, it makes life so much more enjoyable. As much fun as it is making fun of my smallness and being a grump about it, i like that too honestly. I wish i had freckles though. And also was better at comforting people. I kinda suck at that a lot
Visions- Do you miss anyone?
Hmmmmmmmmmmm, i dunno maybe my bestie
Curses- How do you show affection?
I throw gifts towards a person, often art, and i also do it via constantly wanting to listen to what they say and want to hear whatever they are up to. I also tend to pick up the interests of people i like so i can relate and talk to them about it, it also makes me understand, and i value that a lot. Catering and trying to make either a fun or comfy atmosphere for the person is also something. Physical affection i am less certain about, mostly cause i don’t have anyone nearby to do that with yet :’3 Hugs are wonderful tho!
Charms- Are you religious?
Never have, never will. It doesn’t interest me, i love myths and stuff like that, but dedicating myself to a religion? Nah
Hexes- What’s your favorite smell?
Baking bread, sitting in the oven.... ahh.. 
Jinxes- If you could be anywhere, where would you want to be?
I like being in my home :3 I personally would not be anywhere else, but if i could bring another person here the obvious pick would be my bestie, of course ;3 And if i have to pick?? I guess at their place, though that’s far away and i don’t like America cause it kinda sucks and is scary for a little swede like me who has at most traveled to Germany and Denmark which are like right around the corner
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dammit-stark · 5 years
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good ol’ cousin sam
I‘m rewatching Spiderman: Homecoming and I just realized that the P.E teacher’s name is Mr Wilson so now allow me to present to you my theory that this Mr Wilson is the legendary Sam Wilson’s underperforming cousin... this was originally a head canon but I gotta admit this became not-a-headcanon many, many words ago
no pairing - - 2.3k words
While the family favorite Sam joins the Armed Forces to fight for his country, the other Wilson cousin- let’s call him Raymond, Ray to his friends and family- goes to a local community college and receives a degree in physical education.
Sam’s a few years older, has been climbing the ranks in the military for a few years before Ray even gets into college, and he continues to fight while Ray passes math tests and writes essays that get torn up with red pen. Ray graduates middle of his class. 
The whole family comes to the graduation, except for Sam who’s stuck overseas. Sam sends a real nice congratulatory card anyway and Ray tacks it up on his dresser right next to the card from their Nana who passed and above the picture of the whole family ten years prior.  
Too soon, cousin Sam gets discharged from the military with full honor for some unfortunate freak accident that leaves him injured and itching to fly. Almost all the details surrounding the accident are classified, leaving all their nieces and nephews guessing after supernatural means or clandestine alien attacks. Their imaginative guesses leave Sam trying not to break out into hysterical laughter and Ray rolling his eyes over and over again. Sam missed being home. Ray just likes that the whole family is back together again, complete and whole and good for the soul. 
Ray starts coming back home on the weekends for a few weeks to make sure his cousin is doing alright.
At Auntie Glinda’s, they watch football and eat Uncle Greg's homemade chili as if they were teenagers again. It’s like any other weekend for Ray. It feels weird for Sam, who hates having his feet on the ground and his hands in his lap, but there’s nothing anybody can do about it. He puts on a smiling face, does his best to slip back into the family, but it’s all a little too forlorn to fit right, like the last piece of the jigsaw puzzle had a rip in it and the picture is just barely incomplete.
Sam refuses to watch Top Gun when little Billy so sweetly asks. He helps Auntie Glinda with dinner, but makes himself scarce otherwise. Ray notices, but doesnt know what to make of it.
After a few weeks, Ray stops coming by in all his free time, spends some time at his apartment, gets a cat named Hammy, joins a gym. Sam doesn’t need him. In fact, Sam up and leaves for DC, as independent and ready to move as ever. Before he leaves, he tells Ray that if he was gonna be grounded, he couldn’t imagine not at least trying to help others, whatever that means. Ray just smiles and nods and tries to imagine himself outside of New York. He just can’t see it.
Again, they part ways; things are good.
Then, around the same time that Ray gets his first job at a public school in the center of Queens, Sam meets Steve Rogers.
It’s not the best job in the world, a lot of the kids mouth off and tend to complain when they play anything that isn’t dodgeball, but it’s a job and it pays the bills. On Fridays, Ray orders himself a pizza from the Domino’s down the street and he gets take-out from the Thai place by the school every Wednesday. He’s not saving children in a third world country somewhere like his cousin always did, but he’s happy enough and that’s all that matters.
Out of the blue one day, Ray gets a job offer for a teaching position at a private school for gifted teenagers. He doesn’t remember ever applying for the position, but it comes with a pretty hefty pay raise and an office that doesn’t smell suspiciously like a festering rat problem, so he accepts the offer.
Completely coincidentally, his promotion coincides with the rise of Queens’ Amazing Spiderman on the public’s (and the Avengers’) media radar. Ray had watched in awe as the news revealed the first footage of their local vigilante. Another superhero? A lot of people complain, but Ray doesn’t mind. He never really had a problem with spiders anyway. Birds had always irked him, something about the freakish wingspan and their frail yet powerful little bodies, but spiders were always fine. He spends the night after learning the moniker of Queens’ new hero holed up in his bedroom under the covers watching Spider-Man compilations on his laptop. Late at night, when his brain slows down and he sees that red suit when he closes his eyes, Ray finds himself imagining Sam’s face beneath that mask. 
Cousin Sam just so happens to move back to New York around the same time, too. Another complete coincidence. He starts coming around and visiting about once a week or so. Thai night turns into burger night with frequent guest appearances by Sam, food courtesy of the family diner down the street. The nice family have his and Sam’s order down pat within a month.
Once everything settles and Ray gets used to the promotion, he decides the job’s actually pretty nice. The kids are generally less athletic and less enthusiastic than at his old school, most too busy with their nose stuck in a book or worrying over the state of their manicure to go after the dodgeball, but they’re attentive and for the most part are too afraid of failing his class to dare sassing him too much. Once a week he has to supervise a detention, but considering that it’s a school full of suck-up geniuses, detention is usually pretty barren. At the very least his college debt is nearly paid off. That’s cool.
The same day that one of his students, Pete, stumbles into class with a black eye and a wicked limp for probably the third time, Tony Stark shows up at school.
The rumors about his presence flutter incessantly in the Teacher’s Lounge like the words themself has sprouted wings and were determined to bother each and every person in the room. The science teachers sound like they‘re about to pass out from excitement. Raymond himself doesn’t really get what the big deal is- Tony Stark is just another person. Sure, he had a big shiny suit and he fought crime or whatever, but his cousin Sam fought for the people of the country, too, but you don’t see people wigging out over Sam’s sheer presence.
Ray really just wants to eat his lunch, that’s it. He had picked up a chicken salad sandwich from the bodega under his apartment before heading to work that morning and Nancy made the best chicken salad. A quiet lunch unfettered by gossip. That day, Ray learns that history teachers are surprisingly interested in gossip considering their coursework was based on 200 year old facts.
The last thing Ray expects when he gets back to his not-rat-infested office after lunch is for Tony Stark to be waiting for him. It’s quite a turn of events.
“You’re Tony Stark,” Ray says dumbly from the doorway of his own office. He’d just spent half his lunch being forced into a one-sided conversation about the recent advancements of StarkTech upstate, something about unprecedented, unimagined technology that the market itself isn’t ready for. One man did that alone, tinkered in his office at two am and all but broke the stock market with the sheer power of his brain. This man is standing in Ray’s office. It’s weird. 
Inside, Tony Stark is leaning back in Ray’s creaky office chair, his feet propped up on the desk next to a precariously tall stack of physicals that Ray hadn’t taken the time to peruse through.
Tony Stark peers over his orange tinted sunglasses to reveal a devilish black eye that he seems entirely unperturbed by. He lets his feet fall to the ground with a thud and his face is entirely serious, “Coach Wilson, right?” He says, “Come on in. Take a seat. I won’t bite.”
Ray inches forward, eyes narrowed. There’s a billionaire in his office, beckoning him in, and he doesn’t know why. This wasn’t something that happened to him every day.
As Ray sits, Tony rises from the office chair to peruse the degrees hanging on the wall. Ray remembers one of the science teachers gushing about how Tony Stark went to MIT or some super fancy college with an acronym or something. Tony flicks the bobblehead on the shelf beneath the frames and Wilson can’t look away.
Neither of them says anything. Tony watches the oversized head bobble on the bookshelf as Ray watches the mysterious billionaire. The quiet aches. 
“That chair has awful lumbar support by the way,” The billionaire says suddenly, picking up an old baseball cap and sniffing it carefully. His hands are always moving. Ray sits back in the chair himself, but doesn’t say anything about it. The furniture creaks.
“Mr Stark,” Ray says eventually, “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Actually,” Stark says, turning around, his face serious for the first time since he’d stepped into the office, “I believe there’s something I can do for you.”
Ray realizes then that Stark’s suit is wrinkled, a possible stain forgotten at the hem of the graphic tee shirt. Every description ever given about Tony Stark has provided an image of pristine carelessness, of confidence and ease. Tony Stark’s hands can’t seem to stop twitching. It’s kind of unsettling.
“Have you watched the news lately?” Stark asks.
“I’m more of an ESPN guy myself.”
Tony hums thoughtfully, glances over at the wall of community college degrees for a second time.
“From what I’ve gathered, your cousin is Airman First Class Sam Wilson. He visits you every other Wednesday, checks in on you,” Ray skin prickles. Suddenly, Tony looks like steel, “Is this correct?”
Ray just nods.
“An incident occured in Germany. Your cousin was involved.”
Ray had long been told tales of his cousin’s heroics. Sam usually told them with an air of modesty, a dash of pride. Tony doesn’t spare him the expense.
“Was he injured? Is he okay?”
An out-of-place expression of hilarity traverses Tony’s face And he all but laughs, “No, no. Our, um, friend Sam is fine, scrapefree for the most part actually,” His eyes go weird and unfocused for a moment before returning to Ray like a laser gone haywire, “Unfortunately, he was caught on the wrong side of things. For an indefinite period of time, he will be in prison. Mr Wilson, your cousin is a criminal.”
No. Ray’s cousin was no criminal. No way. Sam joined the army, went off and fought somebody else’s battle instead of getting a degree, instead of living a safe life. He has a big heart with this wretched piece of PTSD shoved between its plates of steel. Sure, things got a little twisted after the whole thing with his friend up there in the sky, but he would always be a good man. Sam Wilson was a hero. Not a criminal. Tony Stark was supposed to be smart, not slanderous, and definitely not wrong. 
“I think you’re talking about the wrong Sam Wilson.”
Tony’s hands twitch, “No, no, I think I’ve got the right one.”
A silence befalls them.
“I don’t believe you,” Ray accuses. Just because Tony Stark was a billionaire with an ego didn’t mean he could just waltz into somebody else’s office and defame their cousin right to their face, “You’re lying.”
“Tell me,” Stark says, “How is it you think you got this job? All on your own?”
Ray stares.
“Yeah, no,” Tony wipes a finger along a dust covered bookshelf, circles the office again. It’s a pretty small office. He paces over his own footsteps as he continues, “Sorry to break it to you, but you were all part of the plan. Wilson’s plan. But he- he messed up.”
Tony looks hurt. There’s a crack in the facade, a break in the airwaves. Ray’s so used to coaching emotional teenagers through the inevitable products of sleep deprivation and hormones every day, he spots it from a mile away. Tony continues like it’s nothing, a tendril of something else, not pain or betrayal or some drama that’s far beneath his celebrity status. God, Ray’s so tired.
“Where’s Sam? He demands, leaning forward against his desk, “Did you do something to him?”
“Sam Wilson is currently located in the most secure prison in the world. In the middle of the Atlantic. Otherwise undisclosed. Confidential, you have to understand.”
Ray’s eyes are narrowed dangerously on Tony Stark.
“What could he possibly have done?”
Ray isn’t thinking about himself anymore, he doesn’t care if he got his job through improper means or through hard work or through whispers up a chain of command. He just wants to know what happened to his cousin. He wants to know what happened to the good, caring, hard-working man that he had deigned to call family.
“Look,” Tony supplants, hands waving animatedly as his feet finally remain still, “It’s all very complicated. He broke some laws, defied the UN. It’s where he belongs, he put himself there,” Tony only looks distantly sorry, a regret misplaced from another dimension of time maybe, “In the end, he lost his title.”
“What title? I know for a fact that my cousin hasn’t been in service in years.”
Tony just stares, eyes narrowed, “Do you not know?”
Ray remains quiet, and then Tony’s eyes grow. He takes a seat opposite Ray, hands gripping the ledge of the metal desk as he peers into the confusion flashing across Ray’s express, “Oh my god, you don’t know.”
Ray crosses his arms, and Tony has to hand it to him, he’s certainly an indignant man, “I know everything I need to know about my cousin, Mr Stark. You don’t need to come in here and tell me things that don’t need to be said. I’d like it if you left.”
Tony’s grip tightens. He looks… confused, maybe a little out of place, suddenly uncomfortable or maybe doubtful or maybe they’re one in the same, but he makes no move to rise, “How do you not know?” The silence is enough, “Raymond,” He says seriously, “Sam Wilson is- was- an Avenger. He went by the codename Falcon. He had gone on nearly fifty missions with us. He lived in the Tower most weekends. You didn’t know?”
Ray doesn’t believe it.
While he was here, in the middle of dingy ol’ Queens with a bachelor’s degree from an unassuming college and a neatly laid out weekly menu, Sam was off in Manhattan lounging around with billionaires and saving the world over and over again. Then again, maybe it isn’t so out of the question, it’s just… a lot at once.
“Why are you telling me this?” Ray demands. His head is starting to hurt. Who would have thought that megalomaniac superheroes could be worse to deal with than moody, brainiac teenagers being forced to exert themselves physically for a grade?
Tony shrugs, “Why do you think?” He’s nonchalant, at ease, a line of platitudes expressed over his face before he finally says, “We’re really shorthanded with all the dissenters. I wanna offer you a job.”
“Wait- what?”
Tony looks more than a little smug, “Let me tell you about a kid named Spider-Man.”
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squips-ship · 5 years
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A small bit late on the Ghostbusters anniversary party for this one because I’m on holiday at the moment - but because the original Ghostbusters is 35 now, I gotta give my headcanons for how me and Egon met! I personally use the Ghostbusters videogame as the basis for all my headcanoning because uhhhh s/i real estate?
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Of course, I got into the Ghostbusters as their new Equipment Technician - which basically meant I’d be the guinea pig for all of Egon’s gadgets and prototypes. I found the listing by pure chance one day, reading the paper over breakfast and thought ‘that sounds pretty cool, plus anything beats applying for a job in an office.’
Me being the equipment tester, this meant me and Egon would end up around each other a lot. At first it would just be me passing on whatever little bugs in the tech I could find, but eventually I just started trying to have casual conversations with him - or at least as casual as you can get with Egon anyway. They’d usually be quite short, mostly due to the fact we’re both socially awkward as all hell - but nice all the same.
Very eventually though, he does start warming up a bit - especially due to the fact we’ve been paired up on busts a few times. It’s mostly due to the New York Public Library incident with the Grey Lady where it clicks more though - he got a bit concerned at how many flying books and falling bookcases I was willing to deflect for him. Plus occasionally I’d spot a book I liked on a shelf and he’d be rather surpised at just what I liked to actually read - mostly classics and stuff.
Eventually I start helping him out with his little experiments between jobs - that mostly just involves bringing him snacks and passing him stuff, but he appreciates the company all the same. Sometimes we’ll quip little jokes at each other as well, which he does actually get some enjoyment out of.
By the time we get to the whole Spider Witch incident, Egon and I work pretty well together - which is probably why we end up getting sent to her hotel room in the Sedgewick to deal with her. We work like clockwork by this point, right? What could possibly go wrong?
Cue the hilarious moment where we learn Egon and I BOTH hate spiders and want to get outta there as soon as possible. Egon being afraid of spiders is something I legitimately did not expect. This is probably why half the time we’re both panicking a bit and running in opposite directions. We do manage eventually though, but we never want to do that ever again.
‘Of all the things you could be afraid of... It’s spiders?? Haha that’s funny-“
“You know there’s one on your leg right?”
“GOD DAMN IT, EGON!! DON’T DO THAT! YOU SCARED THE CRAP OUTTA ME!”
Then OH BOY, Shandor Island. Getting dunked in a huge Gozarian castle alone and having to find everybody after a spooky ambush? Wow.
When I finally find Winston and he clues me in on the fact the other Ghostbusters have been captured I goddamn FLIP because oh GOD IS EGON OKAY?? IF THEY HURT HIM I WILL NOT HESITATE TO THROW HANDS.
Winston is rather surprised at how efficient I am with the Ghostbusting from that point on because THIS IS FINE. THIS IS GREAT. (Spoilers: No it isn’t)
“Usually I find being around that much mould quite stimulating, but that was a bit excessive-“
“ *sigh* This is what I get for worrying about you, isn’t it Egon?”
“Oh... *ahem* Sorry...”
“How you manage to be so smart, but so stupid at the same time never ceases to amaze me.”
When we finally do have to fight Shandor himself and do the whole stream crossing thing, admittedly Egon does kind of worry. He’s done the stream crossing ‘might rip all your atoms apart’ thing before, but since I haven’t he’s kind of on edge about it. Rather thankfully for him though, that doesn’t happen.
After the whole ordeal, unlike in the game, Egon bargains a bit with Peter to let me stay on the team with them. Peter likes to think it’s because Egon might secretly like me, but Egon goes to great lengths to tell him otherwise. Of course when I hear about it I do get a good laugh out of it.
They change my title from ‘Equipment Technician’ to ‘Technical Associate’ which sounds like an upgrade, but literally means the same thing. I still appreciate the gesture though, plus the others start to call my by my actual name instead of just calling me ‘Rookie’.
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azurexalacrity · 5 years
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RULES
DISCLAIMER:
> I do not own this character nor am I affiliated with the company/franchise this character comes from. This character belongs to SEGA and all properties of the canon lore also belongs to them.
> Some of my icons come from Olrassonicicons , Planetwiisp , and Holoska while the majority of them are created by me, along with graphics added to them. Please do not steal these icons, as I take my time out of the day to make dozens of them.
> However, anything of the matter of alternate realities/universes that I have created, headcanons I’ve made, and plots that I have brainstormed all belong to me; the creator of those things. I do not condone any of those to be stolen nor reblogged. The only person who reblogs them is me personally and probably a mutual of mine that’s in regards to our ship or interaction with our characters. Thank you.
ABOUT ME:
> Hello! This is the mun. I am known as Zaynah; female and uses she/her pronouns. However, you are free to refer to me as they/them if you don’t know me personally.
> My age is currently 21 years old. This isn’t a big deal or anything, but this is just me stating out that this is my actual age.
> I am introverted, shy, and reserved. It’s not to say I’m afraid of approaching new people or people I know/care about, but it’s just I’m not the kind of person to jump at the gun when it comes to things. My communication may come small at first, but if we get along really well and known each other for a while, I turn out to be very outspoken, excitable, and ready to talk to.
> I know that this is mentioned in my mun section of my blog, but my sexuality is all platonic (aroace in fact). My feelings towards something is just entirely that: Platonic. I don’t feel any romantic or sexual attraction towards people. When I say “I love you” it’s more familial in that regard.
> Here’s the biggest kicker in regards to me: I have terrible, terrible anxiety. I know that a lot of people have anxiety, but I need to point this out anyway because it’s important. The smallest of things can render me into a full blown panic and honestly, most of it isn’t personal and I don’t wish others to take it personally. I get triggered really easily when it comes to the triggers I have and it makes me prone to anxiety/panic attacks incredibly easily. I do have a list to blacklist these triggers, but I want you guys to be aware of this because this is something I cannot control.
> I don’t like speaking personally about this, but there’s a piece of it that needs to be addressed when it comes to threads: I am born with a condition that makes my emotions go haywire on me and causes me to overstimulate very easily. I usually have to tend at things at my own pace or I immediately freak out and have mental breakdowns. I cannot be rushed. I do apologize if responding to threads is a slow progress when it comes to me, but this is how I can make this hobby fun rather than mentally taxing. Again, don’t take this personally.
ABOUT THE BLOG:
> I am a multi-verse and multi-ship kind of blog. Interactions and ships are their own separate reality unless discussed with the muns in question. I don’t mind any ships that are love triangles or unrequited, but again, they are usually their own universe unless it’s discussed.
> It’s primarily SFW, but I won’t hesitate to darker themes as long as there isn’t grotesque details of gore of any kind. I will accept subtle details of it to an extent, however. This also means I don’t do any smut. With that in mind, I don’t mind at all that you guys do NSFW on your blog, as long as it’s tagged.
> My blog is independent yet selective. I would say private as I interact with mostly mutuals, but most of the time, I’m very lenient to just following a blog whether it’s from interest or if they’re willing to interact.
> Reblog Karma: Listen, I don’t mind if you reblog a meme from me. I get that for the meme, not every meme is going to apply to your muse. That’s understandable. The thing is; I don’t want it to be excessive. I’ll really appreciate memes being sent to me. If you spam reblog memes from me without sending anything in, that bothers me. I don’t like to used as a meme archive. Please don’t use roleplay blogs as meme archives. It’s disrespectful.
> I am lover of crossovers and AUs, so I am fine with all that in my book.
> I also welcome in OCs, whether they’re fandomless or not.
DRAMA:
> This is probably the longest section of the batch but this is severely important to me: If there’s any user out there who is being toxic/manipulative/etc. To a close friend of mine and stirring up drama for whatever reason, I won’t hesitate to block them and even report them if it gets far worse. I like to get healthy relationships with others and I know that not everyone I meet is gonna be a ray of sunshine, but this is something to keep in mind. Drama isn’t good for my health and it’s not good for anyone’s health. It’s something I don’t tolerate and it can spike up my anxiety very badly.
> That said: I don’t get involved into drama unless it’s something in the matter of my friends. I won’t get involved if I’m told not to get involved. If it doesn’t concern me and if the mun doesn’t want me to get involved, then I’ll respect their wishes. I will defend a friend though if necessary.
> Furthermore, do not follow nor interact with me if you’re the type of person that loves to stir drama. It’s fine if you’re calling out someone who’s dangerous to the roleplay community, but if it’s just out of spite and not warning people? Then you’re blocked.
I do not point fingers, but I also don’t like to stand around when people are being harmed by one toxic individual. I know people out there are anti-drama and that’s okay if you want to focus on your mental health; that’s perfectly fine. But if you’re someone who sees drama as one big hullabaloo then, I’m sorry, but there are people out there who cause harm to others and sometimes, they need to be called out.
> However, there are people who are harmful to others in a way that needs to be called out upon. And by that, I mean, please don’t follow nor interact with me if you associate with or follow user Grusel-high. She has been proven to show ableist, homophobic, and transphobic behaviors in such a disgusting way that feels unreal. Here is the callout post here that explains what she has done and is backed up by good evidence. If you see her around, stay safe folks.
> There is also another person (who interacts with the person above still) known as ..astra-hero../.battle.fcrgcd. who’s been causing great anxiety to one of my dearest, closest friends, and I can’t help but get anxiety at the sight of this person’s urls. There is a post here that explains mostly of what he did and why it bothers so many of my friends here. So, please, don’t interact with me if you support this user or any of his supporters; thank you.
> And finally, don’t follow me if you interact with With.out-Worr.ies. They were banned off of Tumblr for a reason. He is disgusting and doesn’t respect people’s boundaries. Here are posts here and here explaining what he’s done. 
THE BARE BASICS:
> No god-modding or info-modding involved. God-modding is a form of controlling another person’s muse in a certain shape or form that makes it hard for that person to control their own muse. Info-modding is when someone’s muse knows about another’s muse, but they aren’t supposed to. For example, Spid.er Man shouldn’t know about Bat.man’s secret or of what happened to his parents unless pre-established by the muns in question. I hope this explains it well enough.
> That said in regards to muses in general, mun doesn’t equal muse. I do not condone the terrible actions my muse can do, and the muse will not be glorified or romanticized for that manner. If there’s anything I’ve written that is uncomfortable to you, please don’t keep me in the dark and let me know.
> Personal blogs: I don’t mind your presence here. I don’t mind it at all. However: Please don’t reblog my threads or spam my likes. I don’t want roleplayers spamming my likes either. It’s not only a hassle, but it clogs up my activity and makes it hard to see any notifications for, well, anything really.
> Guilt-tripping? Is a severe no-no from me. I’ve been a victim of guilt-tripping, and I know people out there who are also victims of that. Guilt-tripping is something I don’t condone and I do not tolerate. Using the victim card? Also a no-no. If you’ve done something wrong, you shouldn’t twist the words to make it seem like you’re the victim. You must take responsibility for your actions.
> All I really ask from followers is to please respect me. I know it shouldn’t be a thing labeled on here, but to me, it’s important that people are respectful to me and those I befriend.
> Even though I don’t do smut, here’s something on the matter of smutting; don’t lie about your age to me. I don’t care if you’re a minor, it’s not right to do. Doing underaged smut is illegal and can get people in jail. So, please, don’t follow me if you’re someone who does that or someone who follows someone who does that.
> We must plot or have chemistry first with our characters before our ship can sail.
> I like to be asked if an ask can be turned into a thread. Most of the time I say yes, so don’t be shy!
> Roleplayers do not have to have icons in their posts, but it’s more preferred in my case.
> Please cut your posts; I beg of you.
> No politics unless it’s something major.
> This should be obvious but: Don’t harass anybody because of their race/sexuality/culture/ etc. We are just people who just want to play our favorite characters. Let’s leave it at that.
TRIGGERS (that need to be tagged):
> Gore
> Incest
> Pedophilia
> Anything that has to do with needles
> Jumpscares
> Child porn
> Spiders
> Epilepsy
> Bright lights/neon colors
ABOUT SONIC:
> This Sonic is Modern Sonic/3D era of Sonic and follows the lore of him throughout Sonic Adventure 1 all the way to Sonic Forces and so on. Sonic Boom, and Sonic Mania/Classic Sonic are all different alternatives universe according to my blog.
> My AUs are most likely lore-heavy with the backstories but with plotting, threads can be worked out.
> While this blog sticks to the canon of the games, there are some hints of canon-divergence due to my headcanons.
> Every now and then I will post drabbles that explain the world of Sonics AUs or where I’m going with Sonic in his canon verse. That includes IC (in-character) updates.
> You have reached the end of my rules! Usually I don’t have any keyword to this, but please, either let me know via IM or inbox. Although, if you like to send a keyword for it to be much easier, put in “Never gonna fear the fall.” I’m sorry if this is incredibly long but it needed to be done. Thanks to those who have read this! <3
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