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starbornvalkyrie · 3 years

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the gift [an elucien one shot]

a/n: hellooooo friends. this lil number here was born of a morning discussion about pegging with @vanserrasvalkyrie @oversizedbats @vmiae @ladyvanserra @illyrianvalkyrie @booksandlewks @arielle-reads and @nina-zcnik. you know, normal things. don’t worry, there are no acosf spoilers! this is pure filth, so i hope y’all like it lol enjoy!

content warning: hella explicit sexual content. obviously.

Celebrating Winter Solstice at Feyre and Rhysand’s riverside estate has been tradition for as long as Elain could remember. Ever since it was built, they celebrated here. Even after she officially moved to the Spring Court with Lucien on the other side of Prythian, she still came back to celebrate with her sisters and their growing families.

It was hard at first, being so far away from them. She missed them terribly, but at least she knew she could see them whenever she wanted. She’s been so happy being close to her sisters again, especially knowing that they’ll have centuries to grow together.

These last few weeks, however, didn’t leave her with much time to miss them. Ever since her mating ceremony to Lucien, they haven’t spent much time outside their manor, let alone their bedroom. Almost a month later, and Elain is still itching for gifts to be exchanged and dinner to be eaten, so that she can take her mate to bed.

From where she sat alone on the bay window, Elain felt a tug on the bond deep in her heart, and immediately sought her mate out in the crowded sitting room of Feyre’s home. He had just moved to the bar cart to refill his drink, a reprieve from whatever conversation he had been having with Cassian about the latest Illyrian training regiment. Elain rarely knew a word coming from the Illyrian’s mouth. Most of the time she only smiles and nods until she’s able to step away politely. A quick scan of the room showed her that Cassian had returned to Nesta’s side.

Returning her attention to Lucien, her blush deepened when she caught his eye, a knowing smirk gracing his lips. He knows what she has been fantasizing about from the moment they left the comfort of their bed in the guest wing. She merely cocked her head to the side. The picture of feigned innocence. Lucien narrowed his eyes as though to say, Challenge accepted. He crossed his arms and brought a hand to his chin. An innocent gesture until he flicked his tongue against the pad of his thumb, pretending to wipe something away from his bottom lip.

Elain almost regretted forgoing her undergarments as she clenched her crossed legs tighter, knowing the action is futile in the presence of High Fae and skilled soldiers, but either her family is far too drunk already or have chosen to ignore the scent she’s sure to be releasing. No matter, she supposed. They all deserved it for their own newly-mated episodes. Elain felt Lucien’s chuckle and turned to glare at him before Mor exclaimed, “Rhys! Presents! Now!” Elain laughed as Rhysand rolled her eyes, grateful for the distraction from her own arousal.

With a wave of his hand, the presents appeared before the roaring fireplace. One by one, they were distributed, and Elain watched with a smile on her face. She was watching Nyx play with his new training dagger from Azriel when a present and a card appeared on her lap. She knew without looking up that it was her mate in front of her.

“I thought we weren’t exchanging gifts until later,” she accused, cheeks reddening once again as she remembered what they had promised.

Lucien sat down and effortlessly pulled her sideways onto his lap. “It’s not from me. It’s from my… father.” Elain looked into his russet eye, finding the emotion within that came from acknowledging Helion as his father. She cupped a hand to his face and gave him a quick kiss, just because she could. “I’m not sure where he ran off to, but he told me we need to open it together.” Needing no further explanation, Elain tore into the white and gold wrapping paper, as Lucien read the card to her. “For fun,” was all it said.

Together, they lifted the lid of the box. Elain gasped and Lucien choked as they beheld a variety of gadgets to use in the bedroom to play. There was every toy Elain could think of, but her attention snagged on one particular device. Her eyes traveled along the straps and buckles until they reached the attached appendage. She looked at her mate, his metal eye whirring. No doubt he knew exactly what she was thinking before she had to say it. “Can I…” She swallowed, her voice thick with arousal. “Would you be okay with this?”

Lucien licked his lips and whispered, “Do your worst, Flower.” Elain exhaled through her nostrils, imagining her mate on his knees in front of her, his face buried in the pillows and silks of their bed. She bit her lip and involuntarily rocked her hips on his hardening length. Lucien hissed and gripped her tighter by the waist. “We still need to eat dinner, my love.” He leaned in closer, his breath tickling her ear, “But my Solstice present to you is letting you do whatever you want to me tonight.”

Elain shot up from his lap, leaving him laughing behind her. She sought out Nuala and Cerridwen to see if they needed help completing dinner. They told her it would only be a few moments, but she helped them anyway.

Dinner was the usual, Nyx throwing food at his Uncle Cassian, Nesta scolding Cassian for throwing food back. Amren ignoring Mor’s bargain for her jewelry. Feyre and Rhys talking mind to mind as though they think no one knows they’re actually fucking in there at inappropriate times. Like at the dinner table. But Elain didn’t care because she kept stealing glances at Lucien, her mate staring at her right back.

As soon as they were done eating, Elain bid a quick farewell, pulling Lucien behind her. She ignored the cheering that came from Rhysand and Cassian. She was beyond caring at this point. That primal need to take her mate wherever and whenever was still strong. When they reached their room on the far end of the estate, Elain wasted no time pushing her mate against the door and claiming his mouth with hers.

Lucien’s gift to her was for her to take charge, and that was exactly what she planned to do. She reached between them to his belt, pulling it free without breaking the connection of their lips. She palmed him through his trousers, eliciting a groan from both of them. He was already hard, already ready for her.

Next came the buttons of his shirt. Elain began at the top, trailing kisses down his neck, lingering on the wild pulse beneath his skin. With each pop of a button, her lips moved lower and lower. She traced her tongue along the ridges of his chiseled abs. Elain straightened and removed his shirt before pulling him towards the bed.

The bed was already equipped with leather straps tied to the headboard, set up earlier when she excused herself to freshen up. Lucien looked from the bed to Elain, eyes wide with confusion--and need. Elain only pushed him to lay down on the bed and said, “Happy Solstice, Lucien.”

Once he was settled in the center of the bed, Elain straddled him, hissing as her bare center made contact with his chiseled abdomen, her dress pooling around her. As she made quick work of the straps around his wrists, Lucien growled, “Were you not wearing underwear all night, Elain?” He growled as she nodded in confirmation. “Take off your dress, love,” he commanded.

But Elain wasn't having that.

“Uh uh,” she tutted, lifting herself to her knees. “No talking.” She silenced him completely, gripping the headboard with one hand, her dress in the other so that she could sit on his face. Her mate didn’t hesitate, plunging his tongue deep into her molten core. Elain didn't bother suppressing her moans as he devoured her like a starved man. She rocked back and forth, the feel of his mouth on her igniting the fire in her veins.

Elain ground harder, chasing the release that was already so close after a night of teasing. Her mate must have known she was already on the precipice of falling because he sped up his ministrations.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she panted, “Make me come, Lucien, I need to come.” He made a long swipe of his tongue from her ass to her clit, nipping at her sensitive nub with his teeth. The pain mixed with pleasure sent her crashing over the edge. She screamed through her release, but Lucien’s tongue never stopped helping her ride the wave.

Breathing heavy, she climbed down and kissed him deeply, groaning as she tasted herself on his lips. Already, she was wanting more, aching to be filled. She adjusted her hips until she felt his rock hard length against her entrance. Supporting herself with her arms, she stared down into her mate’s russet eye as she sank down, down, down, filling her completely with his cock. They both groaned in pleasure, the bond between them lit with the wanton need for each other.

Seeing his eye filled with molten desire only for her, Elain couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss him again as she moved her hips up and down, faster and faster. Every slip in and out of her molten channel elicited wanton noises from her throat. “Elain, fuck,” he breathed as she used her inner muscles to clench tight around his cock.

She sat up again, bracing herself with his hands on his solid chest. Despite his hands being tied, Lucien still bent his knees to pound up into her, meeting her thrust for thrust. She cried out when he hit that particular spot that had never been hit before she found her mate. Without breaking rhythm, she finally shed her dress, throwing it haphazardly to the floor.

Lucien’s metal eye whirred, taking in every detail of her perfect, cream skin. Elain reached over to their new box of goodies and returned with a small device that vibrated in her hand. Her lips curled into a mischievous smile as she brought the toy to where they were still joined, still moving. She could hardly describe the sensation that came when the vibrations made contact with her clit, her screams filling the room as her body tensed with her release. “Elain!” Lucien roared as he followed her into the abyss, filling her with his seed. Lucien struggled against his bonds, squirming against Elain as she held that vibrating device between them until she could no longer handle it.

Elain collapsed next to Lucien, breathing hard and groaning at the emptiness she felt. “That was…” she trailed off.

“Amazing,” her mate finished for her, breathing just as heavily.

Elain propped herself up on an elbow and leaned forward to claim Lucien’s lips with her own. Through their kiss, she could feel all the love he felt for her and channeled it right back. His tongue demanded entrance and she happily obliged, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. They were a clash of tongues and teeth until Elain reached up and undid the straps restraining her mate.

But before he could grab her and pull her close like he so desperately wanted, she grabbed his wrists and whispered, “Did you think I was done with you already?” Without waiting for a response she climbed off the bed, commanding him to get on his hands on his knees. He raised his brow at her, but listened. He moved slowly, she noticed with no small amount of pleasure.

She felt powerful, taking what she wanted from him. They are equals in every way, including in their bed, but the feeling of being in control of each move has caused her to be aroused all over again. Elain reached for the box from Helion, feeling Lucien watching her as she lifted that contraption of straps and buckles. She made quick work of securing it to her waist before climbing behind her mate on the bed.

Using a tube of lubricant she found in the box, she lathered the rubber length, and then used her finger to tease Lucien’s rear end. He stiffened at first, but didn’t pull away as she inched the tip of her finger in. Lucien moaned, and Elain told him, “Let me know if this is too much, okay?” Lucien nodded and pushed back on her fingers. After pumping one in a few times, she added a second--and then a third. “Are you ready?” she asked, removing her fingers.

Lucien lifted up on his arms and looked over his shoulder at Elain as she lined himself up to his back entrance. She made eye contact with him, waiting for him to give permission. She may be in charge here, but she wasn’t going to go any farther if he didn’t want to.

But her mate, her wonderful, sexy mate said, “Fuck me, Elain.” And so she did.

Guiding herself in, she went slowly at first, stopping when Lucien dropped to his elbows when his ass snapped around the head of rubber. He was panting, so she stayed still, searing this image of her mate on his knees before her into her mind. After a few seconds, Lucien adjusted and pushed back, urging her on.

She pushed in more, more, more until she was buried all the way to the hilt in her mate’s fine ass. “How does it feel?” she asked.

“Full,” he laughed, then moaned from the movement. “But… I think I like it.” He looked over his shoulder and repeated his words from before. “Do your worst, flower.”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She pulled out almost all the way and pushed back in, faster this time, again and again until she found a pounding rhythm. Her earlier vision came to life as Lucien yelled into the pillows, clenching the soft sheets in his fists.

Powerful--this was power. She gripped her mate’s hips and increased her speed, snapping her hips against his. Elain leaned forward and pressed kisses to his spine, the way he likes to do to her. In this position, she formed a wicked idea in her head and reached around his body. Finding his cock, unsurprised to discover it’s hard again, she worked him with her hand as she fucked him from behind.

Lucien’s screams intensified as he approached his impending orgasm. She grabbed a fistful of his red hair, forcing his back to bend. “Do you want to come, my love?” He grunted in response, but she said, “I need to hear you say it.”

Lucien turned his head to the side against her grip, panting, “Please, Elain. I need to come.” He locked eyes with her, his pupil dilated further than she’s ever seen. “Please.”

Satisfied, Elain cupped his balls and squeezed before stroking him again in time with her thrusts. In no time, she felt Lucien’s body seized beneath her, spilling his seed onto the sheets with a groan. She milked his cock with her hand until she was finished and pulled out, eliciting a strained moan from her mate. She let go of his hair so that he could until he could collapse on his stomach, careful to avoid the puddle of fluid left behind.

Quickly removing the strapped contraption, Elain joined her mate on the bed, happily falling into his outstretched arms. She peppered his face with kisses to coax him down from his high. Eventually, he opened his eyes, the metal whirring as his brain tried to function once more.

“Good?” she asked demurely.

“We’re doing that again,” he growled.

And two more times that night, they did. When they were finally satiated for the time being, Elain fell asleep in her mate’s arms as he whispered, “I love you,” against her hair.

---

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to be added to/taken off my general SJM tag list just send me an ask and be sure to include the fandom! i’m very good at losing them in the comments. love y’all! *bold tags didn’t work*

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#elucien #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #acotar #acotar fanfic #a court of thorns and roses #fanfiction #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #sarah j maas #sjm #usermegs #usernite

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moonflms · 3 years

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➷｡˚wishes —nct/superm mark lee

requested by anon! note, use of media (twice only dw)

next request: jaehyun

PROLOGUE ༄ — mark takes you out on a friendly date to watch the total lunar eclipse by the park! but oh how we wished the date was real.

PAIRING ༄ - non-idol! mark x fem! reader

GENREs ༄ - fluff, semi-onesided love, stars, eclipse, moongazing, under the night sky, semi-socmed, ed sheeran

W. COUNT ༄ - around 1.5k+

NETWORKS༄ - @multifandomnet

TAGS ༄ - @cupfullofjeno (maddie imy :( ) @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 (if you wanna be tagged in my stories then feel free to reach out to me ! <3)

➷｡min's letter ༄ - i honestly feel like this one sucked bc i honestly didn't know how to write a cute prompt anon sent kdfhjkdf

do not repost. copyright belongs to @moonflms 2021. reblogs and likes are deeply appreciated! originally posted on my wattpad (@johnsparrot) . enjoy reading!

masterlist

"i get it that you're into astronomy and the likes but mark, it's past six." you reasoned out from the front seat as you talk to your best friend who was by the trunk arranging whatever he packed. "first, i'm not that deep into the study unlike professionals and astrophiles but you already agreed so shut up!" mark looks at you from the back as he smiles at you who was slightly annoyed.

"a pillow or moomin?" mark walked to your side, barricading you to your seat as he slightly leans towards you, a hand on the door keeping the car wide open as the other rested near the headrest. "moomin please" you pushed mark slightly away as you watched him dash into the house for the soft plushie. you chuckled at how he treats you like a kid— what he always does when you're having those rough weeks. you watched him lock the house and come back with the white plush in hand.

he gets settled in the driver's seat as he starts buckles up, royally handing the toy over to you "one moomin m'lady" he slightly bows down while handing it over, another episode of him being goofy. you played along and smiled before mark fully started the drive towards the park.

the drive was not silent as mark kept the atmosphere busy with a few of ed sheeran's songs playing through his stereo. with the songs playing mark felt vague; he felt butterflies yet he felt his chest gradually getting heavier. photograph, thinking out loud and eventually to happier. playing those songs he realized, no, he knew very well that they had something in common.

that they all reminded him of you.

his gallery and even actual photographs always had you beside him, complete attendance from his adorable childhood to his questionable high school era. thinking out loud because he sees you much more as his confidant, his best friend. all the 'i love you's he showered you with from time to time meant much more than how you saught it as. he feels at peace by seeing you smile and his heart never fails to flutter when he feels your head cozied up by his chest.

and to happier as he knows that you were least likely to become his. he hesitated to confess despite all his others friends convinced you felt the same way. he wouldn't want to go through the pain of rejection and turn the years of friendship all awkward of a sudden.

it has been going on for a great while and the only thing mark could do was to show signs without making it obvious, like how he queued the songs in that order.

you had a rough week and it only seems to get rougher. what hurt you hurt mark as well, so he always goes berserk just to make you lighten up from your burdening feelings.

you and mark always had a bucket list of stuff you both wanted to do. and mark felt it was a perfect time to cross one out; a date under the night sky.

a friendly date despite how mark wanted it to be an actual one.

mark felt lucky knowing that same night had a lunar eclipse (and surprisingly a super moon) was supposed to show and he just had to seize the opportunity. he made sure to bring binoculars, comfy blankets to rest on and of course, the requested moomin plush renjun gifted him for christmas.

the park was nearby and mark felt giddy. focused on humming and driving mark overheard a few shutters and felt the gut feeling of a camera pointing at him. "i better look hot in those" he joked as he glanced at you through the mirror. "i was taking pictures of the cherry blossom, dumbass" you chuckled as you proceeded to snap a few pictures of mark. you then moved over to your instagram to spam about the sudden trip. "one last, look" you scooted closer to mark's side to take a pic with him, just before the traffic light switched to green. both of you looking sweet, you smiled to yourself.

you were finally settling down on the blanket sprawled over the grass, the view of the waters from the distance and the moon above continuing its eclipse. mark who was sitting up, set aside the binoculars, and laid beside you. he turned to his side as he watched you. "so, a check on the bucket list?" mark smiled hoping you'd say yes.

"well, my best friend is much better than other than an invisible boyfriend." mark smiled through the stinging pain. 'yeah, best friend' he thought to himself.

"don't you get tired of being by my side?" you looked up to the sky, feeling a bit doubtful.

"and why would you think so?"

"it's more or less two decades of us constantly by each other's side. and the things you'd do just to get me out of my—"

"y/n, if you're hurt, i get hurt too. i'm always here for you, no matter how stupid and annoying you could be at times. if i went through my whole life with you by my side, why would i suddenly stray away?" mark softly patted your cheek, drying off the few tears that rolled down. you came closer to mark and hugged him, nuzzling by his chest and scent. "and you know how much i love you right?" you nodded as you continued to nest under him.

mark would've been jumping in joy. but tracing back a few words, there he reminded himself of the word 'best friend'.

mark hugged you back as he secretly logged into his instagram as well, he distracted himself by viewing a few of the stories. your story came in after a few taps and there showed a picture of him driving, captioned with a black heart. "sure, keep on hoping minhyung." he thought to himself once again.

he finally decided to create his own with the picture he secretly took of you earlier. he thought of the caption for a while until he ended up with "wished you we're mine." he posts storied like these on the daily, he just made sure to set it into the close friends setting to avoid you from seeing it. he quickly tapped the post option as he felt you move and sat up.

"look! it's red!" you pointed at the moon, smiling as you were amazed by the phenomenon. you pulled mark up from his position and continued to look at the dark sky. it indeed was beautiful. mark inserted his phone back into his pocket as he cupped your shoulder, watching you admire the heavenly bodies above.

feeling done, you glanced at mark who was still looking up. you watched your best friend enjoy his own time as you felt a small vibrate off your phone. you quickly checked the notification as it came from... mark?

" [y/nmais_vu] : @onyourm__mark posted a new story ! "

checking it, you wondered when mark was able to snap a quick photo of you, but you wondered more about the caption. you felt your heartbeats go rapid and your stomach starts to churn. "y/n?" mark called as you quickly locked your phone. "you alright?"

"yeah... nothing much, just story notifs." you smiled and sat closer to mark. he hums as he proceeds to wrap his free arm around your shoulders, continuing to watch over the distance. "did you make a wish?" you asked mark who was finally looking back at you with an unsure expression. "we're supposed to wish! go on, " you nudged mark as he spaced out for a moment, staring at a star. "starlight, star bright, the first star i see tonight!" you both burst into laughs "what are we? pre-school?" mark smiled as he continued to stay silent.

"you made me wish on a star now tell me what you asked for," mark turns facing you. you stayed silent for a while as you looked up to the ending eclipse above. "i actually had two wishes" you pulled out a few blades of grass, avoiding his eyes. "first, was for your wish to come true," you fully faced mark as you took the plush into your hands, fiddling with it.

"second, ... i also wished for you to be mine" you smiled at mark whose face was indecipherable. "wait, what?" you noticed how his cheeks were lightly brushed with blush. "it was your notif, mark."

right there, mark realized that he failed to upload the story to the selected option. "i... well, you did suddenly moved and made me panic." mark chuckled as he continues to study your eyes that were glistening under the soft lights of the surroundings. "your turn. what did you wish for?"

mark came closer to you as he tucks some hair behind your ear, "it just came true." he whispered as he quickly diverted his vision towards the tree nearby. you softly held mark's chin as you got him to face you, your body suddenly heating up inside the white crewneck sweatshirt you were wearing. you both felt euphoric as the sudden confession still felt unreal. you both felt rewarded after keeping in the hopes and feelings for one another.

unconsciously, you both started to close in while the background started to seem blurry, and the only things that were clear to your visions were each other. "can i?" granting him permission mark closed the gap in between both of you, feeling his own soft set above yours. you returned the favor as you cautiously mimicked what mark did, creating a slow rhythm for the both of you.

lasting a good few seconds, you both broke away with heated cheeks and pleased hearts. mark pulled you closer as he now has you in between in him, hugging you from behind. he laid you back into his chest and placed one more kiss, smiling afterward. you locked your phone once again after posting another story. (check below) you both were glad that the wishes of becoming each other's pair were finally granted. mark continued to sway you in his arm, looking up at the succeeding eclipse. "hey y/n,"

"the moon is beautiful, isn't it?"

———

(for those who doesn't know it actually means 'i love you' !)

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thehouseoflamentation · 4 years

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Just Vibing (Leviathan) ~NSFW~

(Warning: includes punishment play)

Leviathan knew he was in trouble but there was no way he could have expected this kind of punishment. For the past month the two of you had started watching a new series together. You reminded him to wait for you every time a new episode came out because it was meant to be something you two did together. Not only did he forget about your agreement and watch the next few episodes ahead of you but he also dropped a huge spoiler on you before you even got the chance to catch up.

He could feel a pit in his stomach start to form as you held out a cardboard box from Akuzon, a smile far too innocent for your intentions rested on your face. Levi could only gulp and hesitantly take the package from you. He ripped off the tape and opened the box to reveal a brand new rhythm game and it was the deluxe edition with bonus content no less! His eyes widened at the sight of the game’s cover, he was ready to hug tackle you out of happiness but… wait... something was off here. Weren’t you upset with him? Why did you go out of your way to buy a present for him? And wasn’t the box still a bit too heavy? Moving the game to the side, his hands dove back into the box.

His breath stilled and stopped altogether when he found the other “gift” you ordered for him. It was a thick silicone dildo complete with veins, curves, and a controller to top it all off. His hands trembled as he held the packaging in his hands, his eyes shifting between the game, the toy, and you. He understood now. This wasn’t a present, this was a punishment.

“M-MC you know I’ve been waiting to get this game for a w-while and umm... I really wanted to enjoy my first play through s-so uhh...could we maybe do this later?” his eyes peered at you sheepishly as he tried to inch away from the toy. In truth, as intimidating as it was a part of him couldn’t help but feel turned on at the thought of what you would do to him. You simply smirked in response, “Pants. Off. Now.” He knew it as much as you did. There was no way he was going to escape this and at his core he wasn’t really planning to either.

Obeying your orders, he quickly slipped his belt off and pulled his pants down before kicking them off entirely. You motioned for him to bend over and he did, his upper body leaning against his desk as he hid his face behind his arms, too embarrassed to show his face while you rubbed him through his boxers. He shivered once the fabric was pulled down and thrown to the side. You pulled a small bottle of lube out of your pocket and started dripping some of it onto his ass, the feeling of your slick fingers entering him made him moan and whimper unconsciously.

You positioned the head of the dildo at his entrance and gently pushed it inside him. The pressure alone was enough to make Levi jolt but you gripped his shoulder and pressed him against the desk to hold him still. He could feel every curve and bump on the toy rubbing against his walls as you slipped it deeper and deeper inside of him. He let out a sigh of relief once you pushed it in all the way but his solace was short lived as you moved him to sit on the floor, the toy now reaching even further and rubbing a particularly sensitive spot within him.

As he sat there trying to adjust to the dildo, you switched the game console on and handed him the controller. Flashing lights and upbeat music played as he stared at the homescreen through tears of pleasure that threatened to obscure his vision. “M-MC please…I can’t....”, he looked back at you for a moment, his eyes pleading for mercy only to be met with your cold amused gaze.

“Hmm.... tell you what, if you can manage to get a perfect score without cumming I’ll let you off the hook. You can even start on the very first level. But if you can’t even manage that then you’ll be wearing that vibe to the Sucre Frenzy event tomorrow. Sound like a fair deal?” your hand was rested under your chin as you smirked to yourself. As good as he was at video games there was no way he was going to make it. Not with the card you had up your sleeve. Then again it’s not like he had much of a choice. He sighed then nodded, his head hung in defeat as he accepted your challenge.

He wiped the sleeve of his hoodie across his face, getting rid of the tears and sweat that formed not so long ago. As he hit the start button, your hands moved in perfect sync, pressing the vibrate setting on the toy’s controller. The powerful stimulation was enough to make him drop the game controller right out of his hands. You quickly turned the vibrator off and slipped your hands in your pockets, your trained innocent smile gracing your face once again as he turned back to face you. “This is so unfair!” he thought to himself as he faced the screen again hoping beyond all hope that he would be able to get through just one level.

He could try as many times as he wanted until he either got a perfect score or came but the way things were going, it was clear he was nowhere near winning. Everytime he started getting a perfect streak you would turn the toy on and send vibrations pulsing through him, throwing him off before he could finish the level with a perfect score.

His frustration from the game and the sexual tension you caused was driving him insane. On any normal day he would have been able to smoke any rhythm game. The fact that he wasn’t even able to get past the first level because of your teasing was an insult to his pride as a gamer. Despite how close he was to cumming he still had some restraint left and he was going to use it. All that time you were teasing him he was slowly getting used to the vibrator. He was able to handle it fairly well now and he was going to put everything he had on the line to finish this god forsaken level.

Taking one last deep breath, Levi pressed the start button once again and braced himself for your torment. He was approaching a particularly hard part in the game and sensed that you would increase the intensity of the vibrator. His prediction was correct but he still refused to waver, continuing to rack up points. The level felt agonizingly long as he held his breath and waited for the song to slow down and stop, signalling the end of the level. The notes he had to hit finally started to slow as he was reaching the end. Just a few more seconds to go and- VVVRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!! At the last second you hit the MAX setting on the controller. The toy convulsed inside of him, the sudden intense pleasure pushed him over the edge causing him to cum all over himself as the level came to an end. He laid on his side panting from his release as his eyes stared blankly at his final score. “665 perfect hits! And 1 miss...you were so close Levi...but I guess we’ll have to continue your punishment tomorrow now won’t we?” you placed a kiss on his cheek as you watched him lie on the ground, nothing more than a panting mess. Levi’s eyes were still fixed on the screen, the brightly colored words echoed in his mind as he struggled to catch his breath. “Game Over.”

#obey me!#shall we date #shall we date?#obey me #obey me! leviathan #obey me! scenario #scenario #lemon lime demon time

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ketchupqueenboiiii · 3 years

Text

Charge - Chapter 2

A/N: Welp this is really late, but it's here so please enjoy :)

"So, like, when something planned goes bad or not in favor of whoever planned it, you say, 'Oh, how the trees have greened.'" Wally said smiling from his seat in the front row. He and Robin poorly hid their laughter at Kaldur's solemn nod of understanding and M'gann's enthusiastic thank you.

They all got bored in the mountain and decided to patrol the town. He occasionally grunted or nodded to show he was listening but was otherwise silent. He was trying to sort out the noise, there's much more than there was in Cadmus. More variety, really. So he focused on the teams' noises.

Wally's heart beat a faster than what he thought was normal for humans, even when he was just lounging on the couch.

M'gann didn't have a heartbeat but she had different sounding footsteps. They were quieter than humans, probably because of her flight.

Robin walked quietly and almost inaudibly when Superboy didn't concentrate on his footsteps. But his heartbeat was normal.

Kaldur's were loud compared to the other's, like thumps. It's probably because his weight, he guesses Atlantean's had to be of certain weight to be able to not float to the surface, and whatever helped them withstand water pressure probably played a factor in weight too. Kaldur's heartbeat was a little faster than Robin's but not nearly as much as Wally's.

He came back to real time in the middle of M'gann's query.

"There's somebody out on the roof of that building-" she stood and changed the Bio-Ship's design, allowing everyone to see outside, where somebody in costume stood on a rooftop roughly 50 feet away, "-they're wearing a..." she paused, in thought, "I think it's a super-suit, like the ones we have but I guess there's the possibility they're not a danger. I think I should go check it out."

Kaldur nodded, "That's a good idea, M'gann, go invisible and evaluate them, report on the mind-link what you learn and we go from there." She nodded back.

They all watched, well not really if you think about it, as M'gann went invisible and left the Bio-ship.

He listened for her steps but couldn't hear them. She's flying then. He heard the other person take a heavy breath. Then saw them whack M'gann with a horn from their headband.

Everyone's eyes widened at the smacking noise of the horn against M'gann and then hardened into battle-ready expressions. They won't get away untouched when the team was done with them.

Superboy didn't hesitate as he jumped out of the Bio-ship with Wally. He saw red and felt the others' similar attitudes through the mind-link.

"M'gann!" They yelled as they fell to the ground.

"Superboy, help M'gann. I'll deal with her." Kid Flash sped off as he mentally hummed in response.

Superboy glared at the stranger before making his way to M'gann. He helped her up while Kid's hands flew as they attacked the stranger, them dodging skillfully but still getting caught in every few punches and backing away uselessly; since Kid's assault was coming in from every angle he could get. But then they stopped moving and glared. At what, he couldn't guess since there was nothing in their path to glare at.

Then they thrust out their weapon and Kid froze mid-run. His momentum, though, sent him straight to the ground. Superboy winced at the crunch that was surely his nose and wrist breaking against the concrete.

Robin's took in a hasty breathe, his heart skipped a beat then rushed back to rhythm, beating harder than before.

"Kid!" He jumped from the Bio-Ship, and rolled into his landing. Gingerly, Robin inspected Kid on the ground. "Wally, are you okay? What'd they do?" His voice was laced with concern.

Wally groaned, "I'm okay, -ish. I can't move though. And it's not like a 'frozen-in-ice' kinda way, I can't move anything. Can't use my body heat or vibration to get out."

"Do you know what they hit you with? Maybe I can use some... pressure-point-massage-therapy combo thing."

"They jabbed me in the gut and whispered 'Venin', then I froze and I couldn't make myself run again. It was like in that episode, you know with the Chi-Blockers-" Wally led on until Kaldur interrupted.

"Wait, are you sure they whispered 'Venom' as they jabbed you and then you froze?" He sounded put off and skittish but like he was trying to hide it.

"Yeah, but in French."

He hesitated until letting out a breathe, "I need a better look at her, I'm taking the Bio-Ship closer. Keep them busy but in the general area, I need to see all angles."

"Yeah, okay, but can someone get me off the ground? I can feel my nose healing wrong and it's already wonky from every other time I broke it."

Superboy stood protectively in front of M'gann, glaring at the stranger. And they had the audacity to smirk and took out their weapons. A spinning top children's toy and a horn from their headdress. They were taunting him. He glared right back.

They narrowed their eyes and took off to the end of the roof top, jumping down, likely to escape.

He ran to follow but Kaldur intercepted, "They're bluffing. They're circling back with their grapple, probably going for your blind spot behind you, be ready for it."

"Okay." He heard them and swiftly turned, using his forearm to hit their legs; sending them across the roof top. Robin started throwing batarangs at them as he ran back to the fight. He learned he could move Wally so he took him to the Bio-Ship to Kaldur after he set the speedster's crippled nose. They quickly ran to the neighboring rooftop.

Kaldur took an unsettling breathe, "I was right," he whispered, before returning to a more assertive tone, "I'm calling in a high priority call to Wonder Woman and Aquaman."

The team's simultaneous aghast questions were outshined by Robin's, "What? A high priority call? Kaldur, we have 'em beat! We don't need the League's help-"

"I'm not asking, Robin, this person is a serious threat, and should be considered dangerous. Wonder Woman and Aquaman are best suited to apprehend them."

Robin, completely masking his attidude, throws his voice, "Boo."

They shriek, "Merde!" and throw a smaller horn at a wall. With their back turned, Robin threw a ball that expended into weighted net. As they turn, a look of panic flashes over their face and the net entraps them.

Superboy lifts her into a kneel and stands behind her. M'gann and Robin stand in front of her.

"See? We didn't need the League's help. We got this under control."

"We're going to hand them over to Wonder Woman and Aquaman when they get here. Whoever this is, somehow has access to a power artifact."

M'gann tilted her head in confusion, "What do you mean, 'powerful artifact'?"

"I mean, their power isn't their own, it comes from an ancient source that we are not ready to handle."

"Not ready to handle? Did you not see the last thirty minutes?"

"This is not up for debate, Wonder Woman and Aquaman are a minute away."

Robin looks like he wants to continue the argument but M'gann interrupts, "I'm gonna try and find more about them." Her hand rises to the stranger's forehead, but they roll backwards and knock him down. He hears them tear the bottom of the net, freeing their legs. They start running towards the next rooftop and Robin begins throwing batarangs again. M'gann takes of flying and he runs along side Robin.

They were close to finished getting out net when Kaldur announced Wonder Woman and Aquaman had arrived. Wonder Woman flew past M'gann and swung her lasso at the stranger, successfully capturing them again. She pulled them in as she landed on the roof.

The Bio-Ship set down on the rooftop and opened for Kaldur to walk to Aquaman.

"That was a good call, Aqualad. An inner circle wielder could have caused some problems. Good job, Kaldur." He smiled to his apprentice.

"Thank you, my King." He smiled back, "They hit Kid Flash and he became completely paralyzed so I assume they hold the miraculous of subjection. Do you a cure for him?"

"It should wear off soon, but if not, I'll contact a healer from Atlantis."

Wonder Woman tied the stranger from behind before kneeling to see their face. Her eyes widened and her torso flinched back.

The stranger spoke awkwardly,"Ça roule, Diana."

"Wonder Woman, you know them?" Aquaman's question really didn't help with the embarrassment Chloe was feeling right now.

"Yes, I do. She's one of the hero's from Paris I helped a few months ago." She helped the tied up girl and undid the lasso around her.

"Then why did you attack Miss Martian?" Even newer guy had good questions. She was about to jab at the name before Diana silenced her.

"Lets go back to the Mountain before we do any questioning." Wow, yeah, this would be a great time to run, but the chance to see the inside of a Justice League headquarters? She had to do this for Adrien. But it seemed not everyone was as enthusiastic with the plan.

"What? Wonder Woman, you can't be serious. She attacked Kid and Miss M!" Well, yes, but in Chloe's defense, she was antsy and really bored.

"We'll talk about that at the Mountain, lets go." She says it with such an air of finality all they can do is pout and grumble. Maybe the voice was a ladybug thing.

#maribat #charge-chloekon #yj #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #dc x miraculous #dc x ml

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queenmylovely · 3 years

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Helloo i was wondering could we get a smutty roger blurb pretty pleasssseee maybe due to the recent pop quiz videos 🙄 like he's on the show and youre watching in the audience as a friend and his team losses + he's hella annoyed so he's determined to get home asap so he can relieve his frustrations but you decide to come home with him to cheer him up but you don't know what you are in for because he can't resist you when he's in this mood 😍

1st Holiday Advent post yay! (send me a request here and check out the explanation here) Anyway, this has been in my inbox forever, so thank you for your patience anon, I reward you with a honkin’ 2.5k words (warnings are smut, 18+) Masterlist

☆☆☆

You were attending the taping of one of the episodes of Pop Quiz that Roger was on. He had invited you the week before after you had mentioned that you always caught the episodes when they aired and liked answering the questions yourself. It wasn’t totally clear if this was a date or not, but you were fine with either. Not that you didn’t really fancy Roger, you just were okay with it being a friendly invitation as well. The two of you always flirted and were touchy, but you knew you were just a flirt in general and Roger himself was touchy with all of his friends.

The idea of asking him out had been something you were toying with, but whatever was between you and Roger seemed like something that would develop on its own time and in its own way. You knew it wouldn’t be a conventional sort of relationship, which you were totally okay with, so you figured it’d be best to just let everything happen the way it was going to.

Sitting in the front row of the studio audience, you had a great view of the stage other than what was obstructed by the cameras. Luckily, Roger wasn’t obstructed so you could watch him all night. At the beginning, he would wave to you during commercial breaks or mouth things when the other team was answering and he was sure he wasn’t onscreen. He made you laugh a lot with all of his faces and you had to stifle yourself to keep from interrupting the taping.

Unfortunately, as time went on, it became clear that Roger’s team was losing and by three quarters of the way through, they were too far to come back and win. You could tell Roger wasn’t happy. You would’ve bet money that no one else could really tell the difference in his behavior, but having been his friend for quite a while and seeing the way he acted in the studio, you could see the slight differences. His hand was tucked into the collar of his shirt and you could see his fingers underneath the fabric moving underneath like they were tapping out a quick rhythm. His answers to the questions became short and gone was the funny banter and quips that he was usually known for. He probably wouldn’t have been so upset, but his team was doing poorly mainly due to a few mess ups on his part, and he felt guilty and stupid for getting the answers wrong.

Roger kept his composure through the rest of the show, but as soon as it was done, he was finding you to leave. The host tried to invite the two of you to the pub with everyone else, but Roger waved him off saying it wasn’t a good night for it.

Once he got to you, Roger grabbed your hand a little roughly and pulled you next to him, saying with a gruff voice, “Let’s get you home.”

He led you out of the studio quickly, to his car that was parked in the garage. Roger let your hand go so you could both get in, turning on the car and then practically speeding out of the garage. As soon as he got to the highway, he pushed the accelerator hard, going well past what you knew the speed limit to be.

“Roger, Roger, slow down!” you cried out, gripping the door next to you and subconsciously pressing your feet into the brake pedal you wished was on your side.

“Don’t worry love, the street’s empty,” Roger assured you, keeping up the speed.

“Well, what if someone else gets on?”

“Then I’ll slow down,” he looked over to you to make sure you accepted his answer and when you nodded, he turned back to the road, increasing his speed further.

A little less worried, you started paying attention to where he was going and realized he was taking you home.

“You’re going to my house?” you asked in confusion.

��Yeah, I said ‘let’s get you home,’” he reminded you shortly.

“Oh,” was all your reply, disappointed because you knew he was planning to just drop you off and be on his way. You had been looking forward to the rest of the night with maybe a drink or two and lots of good conversation with Roger.

It wasn’t long before you arrived at your house, Roger stopping in front of your driveway and putting the car into park.

“Sorry I kind of ruined the night. ‘m just not in the greatest mood after the shit that was that show,” Roger said, looking down at his hands on the steering wheel instead of up at you.

You put your hand on the closest of his and he looked up, “You know, it wasn’t all on you. And besides, it’s just a bit of fun for a show, right?”

Roger moved past just feeling the warmth of your hand on his to answer, “Yeah, I guess.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you suggested, “Why don’t you come in for a drink or something. I hate to send you home without having cheered you up, even just a little.”

The earnest look in your eyes and how close you were to him made Roger eager to say yes to your suggestion. But he thought again and wondered if he should because he knew that whenever he got in this mood he was prone to doing whatever he could to relieve the frustration. That often included sex with whoever was around and willing, but he wasn’t sure that the possible risk to your friendship was worth the fuck he wanted just to release some steam.

Roger also knew there was something between the two of you and wasn’t sure that now was the time to expand on it, without practically any patience on his part. He was about to decline your offer and just drive home to work his irritation out on his drums when you let go of his hand.

Before he could react, you shut off the engine and pulled the keys from the ignition, unbuckling and throwing open the door of the car. You got out, shut the door, and ran, stopping about ten feet into your lawn.

“If you want them back you’ll have to come in first!” you shouted to him. He watched you in surprise, which quickly turned to shock and then a fire low in his belly when you tucked the keys into your bra with a laugh.

He got out of the car, almost slamming the door shut and you tensed in anticipation. He started like he was going to start running and you bolted a couple steps, but he was just messing with you. So you watched him again, and he walked, slowly this time, until he was five feet away. When you were least expecting it, he lunged for you, but you were just far enough away to stay out of his grasp. You made it to the door and unlocked it before he got there, leaving the keys in the lock to slow him down before continuing into your house.

Roger watched you disappear into your house, shaking his head as he pulled your house key from the lock and walked in, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“I’m going to get those keys,” Roger announced to you as he sauntered into the kitchen where he already knew you’d be.

You held out a drink for him, whisky, neat, that you had poured from the bar cart in your kitchen.

“Not for awhile you won’t,” you replied as he walked around the counter to you, leaning back against it.

He took the drink you held out to him, and the two of you cheersed before taking a sip, looking each other in the eye.

“So what do you suggest we do until then?” he asked, swirling his drink and cocking his hip to the side.

“Well, we’ll have to finish our drinks, of course,” you reasoned, moving a step forward and taking another sip.

Roger, on the other hand, downed his drink all at once, then looked at you and said, “What next?”

“We could listen to some music,” you suggested, getting another step closer.

“Not really in the mood to listen to music,” Roger muttered, setting down his empty glass on the counter; you did the same with your still mostly full one.

Rolling your eyes, you took the last step until you were right in front of him and then waited until he looked down at you before speaking, “What are you in the mood for?”

***

There was a moment of silence and tension before you rushed together, meeting in a fervent kiss. Roger gripped you by your waist and you held yourself steady by wrapping your arms around his neck. That steady was knocked off balance as Roger flipped the two of you around, pressing you against the counter with his hips. You moaned and parted your mouth when Roger’s tongue ran along your lower lip. As he deepened the kiss, his hands slid down to your ass, squeezing it before using his grip to lift you onto the counter.

Laughing, you widened your legs and used your heels to pull him closer until you could feel his growing hardness pressing against you. The kiss made you feel hot all over and you shrugged off your jacket. Roger let his fall to the floor before moving his hands to the buttons of your blouse. He undid it as you nipped at his neck, but when he tried to undo your bra, he couldn’t.

“Oh, it’s-- it’s in the front,” you explained and undid the clasp between your breasts. Then, when you did, Roger’s keys fell to your lap.

The two of you paused for a second before you burst into laughter and Roger dropped his head to your shoulder, his breath tickling your skin.

“I--I told you I would get them,” Roger told you through chuckles.

“Shut up and kiss me,” you replied as you tossed his keys to the side, and he did.

As the kiss got more intense, you raked your fingers through his hair, pulling roughly at the ends. Roger groaned deeply in his throat, pulling back to mouth at your neck, using his hands to feel your breasts. As a spike of heat travelled through you, you pushed him back a little to hike up your skirt (which you were grateful you wore) and pull down your underwear as quick as you could.

Roger did the same, kicking his pants off all the way before pulling you to the edge of the counter. You reached between you and ran your hand along the length of his dick, getting a sense for it and making sure it was ready, the moan that came from Roger’s lips just being an added bonus. He reached between your thighs and swiped his thumb up through your folds, gathering some wetness before rubbing your clit in tight circles.

“Fuck. Mm, just fuck me now, I’m ready,” you said breathlessly.

Nodding, Roger let you guide his cock to your entrance, pushing in slowly until he bottomed out. Giving you a second, he pulled out just as slowly then started fucking you for real. His pace wasn’t too fast, in fact it was just right and hit you in all the right places as you gripped onto his shoulders and used your legs for leverage. His thumb stayed on your clit and that matched with his sharp thrusts made your pleasure grow faster than you expected.

It wasn’t long before you couldn’t keep quiet, telling Roger all the ways he was making you feel and how good he was fucking you. Roger was just as loud, but with moans instead of words and each of his sounds sent another bolt of pleasure through you.

“Roger, fuck, fuck, I’m gonna co-ome, keep going,” you said, your voice breaking.

In return, he snapped his hips into you with each thrust, and as you clenched around him, his shaky moan was all it took for your orgasm to take over. As your muscles tightened and your eyes closed, pleasure waved through you, making it almost hard to breathe with how good you felt.

Roger kept going, and even as you came down, showed no signs of stopping. You could tell that he was working off some frustration, and it honestly made you feel heady that he was using you for it. Luckily you weren’t too sensitive, and despite already coming, each thrust still gave you pleasure.

Wanting to help him along, you clenched around him, at the same time moved to kiss his neck. You kissed until you found the spot that made him groan, deciding to suck and nip your way to leaving a hickey there.

Before you knew it, you began to feel another orgasm building, and you moaned against Roger’s neck as a particularly strong wave of pleasure went through you. You kissed your way up to Roger’s mouth and kissed him again, reveling in the feeling of his tongue against yours.

But then you felt his fingers on your clit again and you broke the kiss to tell him, “Oh Roger, oh my gosh, you’re gonna make me come again. Fuck me.”

“Already am, but I can sure go harder,” Roger joked, voice a little uneven.

“Yes, that, do that,” you agreed, nodding quickly.

Roger complied, and as his thrusts grew harder you keened at the feeling. His free hand went into your hair, pulling your head back enough so that he could lean down and get his mouth on your breasts. He kissed his way to one of your nipples, bringing it between his lips as he sucked.

One of your hands went behind you to keep you up but the other went to the back of Roger’s head keeping him in place. And then Roger tugged at your nipple lightly with his teeth and you were cumming, tightening your grip in his hair and moaning brokenly at the feeling.

Even as the hot pleasure ran through you, you could feel Roger’s hips stuttering and the change made you whine. Just having caught your breath enough to talk, you grabbed Roger’s shoulder, “Come, I need you to come.”

“Where?”

“I’m on birth control, inside me, please, fuck,” you pleaded, a little because your sensitivity was getting stronger, but mostly because you wanted him to reach that high too.

And just a few thrusts more, with the clench of your walls around him, Roger came into you, moaning into your chest as his thrusts slowed down. When he stopped, he stayed inside you, and you ran your fingers through his hair as he came down.

Breath still heavy, Roger started pressing lazy kisses up your chest and neck before finding your mouth and kissing you slowly. After a minute, you pulled back and smiled at him.

“So that happened,” Roger said, his smile matching yours.

“Yeah, finally,” you said with a laugh. “Guess we should thank Pop Quiz for adding the last bit of frustration that made it all boil over.”

“Yeah, guess we should,” Roger muttered, leaning in and kissing you again.

★★★

tagging bc its sooo long: @riseetothesun @drowseoftaylor @caborhapch @queenlover05 @johndeaconshands @stardust-galaxies @theblossomknows @buckyluvrs

#first thing I post in probably months and its at 12:45am my time #well I like it so I hope y'all do too!#yay for dec 1 #queen #roger taylor #roger meddows taylor #queen x reader #roger taylor x reader #smut #blurb #queenmylovely #holiday advent

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henryandalex · 4 years

Text

***Magnus and Alec are husbands. Yes, this needed to be said because CAN YOU BELIEVE? :’) But also, yes, it’s really been that long since the latest Malec fic rec. I’m sorry. It’s... yeah. Although if you also miss Malec every second of every day, reading fanfics at least helps a little.

I tried to collect a nice mix again so I hope you will enjoy this 9th (!!!) edition of my Malec fanfic rec posts. As usual, I enjoy making them and rec’ing you fics but these posts take a looooot of time so please, please, please reblog, like and spread the word so that I see you enjoy these and these posts are helpful. It motivates to do a new one in the future if y’all are interested. Thank you

And now, have fun discovering, reading, and loving those Malec fics. And leave a kudo and comment for those authors while you’re on it. We all love appreciation and need validation. :)***

previous Malec fic recs: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8

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42 NORTH 71 WEST by @lecrit [ M | AU | 62.1k | complete ]

Alec sometimes wonders why he ever decided to pursue a career in politics. Magnus sometimes questions whether pursuing his dream of becoming an actor was worth it.

Those two facts are not necessarily mutually exclusive.

THE SHOW MUST GO ON by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 21.3k | complete ]

Alec pulls up to the gold intercom positioned at the enormous front gates. Like everything owned by the obscenely wealthy, they’re proportioned for both for giants and giant egos.

He’d hoped this would be easier, less gut-churning work than protecting diplomats and foreign dignitaries, some guilty of truly terrible things, but being a bodyguard for a coddled popstar who can’t even be bothered with basic safety isn’t his idea of a good time.

---

Magnus is a popstar and Alec is his reluctant bodyguard. The bodyguard au in epistolary form. Image-heavy.

HIGHER THAN THE BIG TREES by @carmenlire [ E | AU | 242k | complete ]

Alec loves his job. He’s been touring since he was sixteen. He’s stayed in dozens of countries over the years, learned enough of their languages to get a beer in his hand and a man in his bed. The road is as much his home as the townhouse on the Upper West Side. He’s as comfortable in cheap hotel rooms with scratchy linens and glaring lights as he is in his penthouse that overlooks Central Park with its silk sheets and the constant hum of the city that never sleeps. Alec works hard and that hard work has paid off. He just finished his latest sold-out world tour and by all rights, he should be on top of the world. But the mental pressure of celebrity is getting to Alec and he doesn't trust his footing. He's stuck where most people would kill to be and he just wants to know what his next move should be. Enter Magnus Bane. A history professor at Columbia University, Magnus is content with his friends, his classes, and the occasional warm body in his bed. But he's been feeling stagnant, looking for the next chapter in his life to begin. If only he knew what Alec would bring his way.

THE SECRET OF THE SECRET SANTA by @notcrypticbutcoy [ T | AU | 12.7k | complete ]

As busy doctors with busy schedules, Magnus and Alec have danced around their feelings for each other for years, much to the chagrin of their friends. This Christmas, Simon decides it’s time for an intervention-in the form of a shamelessly rigged secret santa.

Or: In which Simon rigs the secret santa, Magnus and Alec flirt over nerdy doctor things, and are both a little bit oblivious.

RUMOR HAS IT by @lecrit [ M | AU | 12.9k | complete ]

Magnus widens his eyes at him, silently asking him to just give him this one. Alec simply curves one of his stupidly perfect eyebrows in response, a simple gesture that carries the weight of a call for challenge. “Looks like you’re gonna have to postpone your wedding for now,” Maia giggles next to him. Magnus huffs, flexing his jaw. “Oh, it’s on, Lightwood,” he mouths at him.

Or the one where Alec and Magnus are both after the same guy, but end up falling for each other instead.

CIGARETTE by j__writes [ T | AU | 3.1k | complete ]

His relationship with Magnus Bane had been nothing short of frustrating.

Frustrating in the worst of ways. Frustrating in the best of ways.

ABSOLUTELY ABYSMAL by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.8k | complete ]

The first time Alec sees Magnus wearing lipstick he wants to do filthy things to him. Magnus isn't exactly opposed to this.

A ROYAL AFFAIR by j__writes [ M | AU | 38.8k | complete ]

Prince meets professor and it's love at first sight. Lucky (or maybe unlucky) for him, the beautiful professor doesn't know his boyfriend's a prince.

HEAVEN IS A TASTE ON EARTH by @alittlebriton [ T | AU | 20.7k | complete ]

Making a birthday cake for the renowned chef Magnus Bane is a hard enough task – made harder still by the fact his girlfriend doesn’t seem to know Magnus’ likes or dislikes at all. Alec Lightwood, maker of some of the finest cakes in Brooklyn, is up to the challenge, even if he can’t take his eyes off the birthday boy. But as Alec and Magnus grow closer, could it be that the missing ingredient is true love?

LOVE & OTHER DRUGS by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 2k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #1 ]

Rising rockstar Magnus Bane’s life is all about sex, drugs, and rock 'n' roll - it's an old cliché, but sometimes the clichés are true. And Alec Lightwood, a bassist from another band, is a drug Magnus can't get enough of - even if he knows that like any drug, he's sinking deeper with every hit he takes, and that this is killing him slowly and painfully.

Because this is just about sex, and Alexander doesn't love him back.

OUR LOVE IS A HARSH CHORD by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 21.9k | complete | Semi-Charmed Kind Of Life #2 ]

Magnus lives in two worlds: one of blinding stage lights and the thunder of the adoring crowd stomping its feet to the rhythm of his music; and one of the darkness offstage, a blur of lonely hotel rooms, one-night stands, drugs, and the sting of whiskey.

Magnus lives in two worlds, both of them stark, bleak, empty - until Alec Lightwood comes along, and everything falls apart.

MELTING MOLTEN by @raininginadelaide [ E | 4k | complete ]

The training scene in the show was their second attempt. The first time, Alec showed even less restraint.

SUPPORT SYSTEM by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 122.8k | complete | Support System #1 ]

When Alec's favorite show gets cancelled and he takes to messaging customer service repeatedly to show his support, he doesn't expect to connect so well with the support representative he keeps getting paired off with.

PAGING DR. LIGHTWOOD-BANE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 4.4k | complete ]

Alec scowls. “I’m not on rotation this weekend-- I’m not even on call-- and we decided to make the most out of it.”

“We,” Maia asks, brows inching towards her hair line. “Who’s we?”

“My husband and I,” he mutters and he rolls his eyes as it's like a bomb’s been detonated in the middle of the table.

Simon screeches, “What,” and even Jace and Isabelle are looking at him with wide eyes.

“You’re married?”

Or, the one where everybody finds out

TRUTH OR DARE? by @atowncalledmalec [ E | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Two small-town cops, partners, Alec Lightwood and Magnus Bane, have somehow pulled desk duty on the graveyard shift. Bored out of their minds and finding a lie detector machine, the chance of winning a $50 bet and being able to ask the questions they've always wanted to ask is too good of an opportunity to pass up. Alec gets a little more than he bargained for though when the machine betrays him at every turn. And so does Magnus.

EVERYTHING I DIDN’T KNOW I WANTED FOR CHRISTMAS by @la-muerta [ T | AU | 4.5k | complete ]

Alec got his Christmas shopping done months ago - but he should have known that Jace would mess it all up for him. Now he's out braving the crowds on Christmas Eve trying to find a toy that's sold out everywhere for his son, and as it turns out, he's not the only desperate single father out there who will stop at nothing to get his hands on that last toy in the shops.

CERTAIN PERKS by quill_and_ink [ E | 5.5k | complete ]

"You never have to prove yourself to me."

Shadowhunters are being murdered and mutilated. The Clave is getting desperate to find the culprit, but Alec has to believe there's another way. He won't let this end his relationship with Magnus - he refuses to accept that, and he'll do whatever he can to protect them.

Based on the dialogue and actions from "Shadowhunters" Episode 2x13: "Those of Demon Blood"

THE TRUTH UNTOLD by @carmenlire [ not rated | 4.4k | complete ]

Magnus closes his eyes and leans into the feelings that wrap around him. They’re two of the most powerful men in the New York shadow world. It makes his chest ache sometimes, the knowledge that they may never be able to take their relationship public, that he won’t ever be able to kiss Alec on a sunny day in the city, that they can’t hold hands as they walk through Central Park, that whenever they do see each other in public it’s always in an official capacity and they’re relegated to formal greetings while their eyes try to say everything they can’t.

He’d still take this over not having Alec, though. That Magnus knows without a doubt.

ANYTHING YOU SAY by @milominderbindered [ M | AU | 117k | complete ]

Detective Alec Lightwood likes his job. He likes the order of it, likes helping people, likes that he gets to work with Jace and that Izzy is always right downstairs in the morgue too. He's wanted to be a cop ever since he was a kid, just like his parents before him, and now he's living that dream. His life should be perfect.

There's just one problem. Their precinct has just gotten a new forensic expert -- Magnus Bane.

And honestly, he's so cute that Alec's kind of losing his mind.

EMISSARY OF SIN by @insiemes [ M | AU | 97.6k | complete ]

Alec Lightwood, the Clave's top protection agent, is called upon to guard the life of his mortal enemy - one of the world's most notorious hitmen, Magnus Bane.

SHOOT TO KISS by @dantes-wombat [ M | 5k | complete ]

As far as dates go, this one's a bit more weapons-centered than Magnus expected - but also a lot sexier.

IF YOU’VE GOT THE MONEY, I’VE GOT THE TIME by j__writes [ T | AU | 73.4k | complete ]

Alec has made plenty of questionable choices, as Izzy likes to so kindly remind him. Asking Magnus to be his fake boyfriend and then offering to pay him? That, right there, he doesn’t know what the fuck he was thinking. And he wasn’t. But Magnus is really nice and really fucking hot, and if Alec gets to pretend to be his boyfriend then… win - win, right?

ANONYMOROUS by @superficialpeasant [ E | AU | 10.6k | complete ]

When one of Clary’s art exhibition performers drops out last minute, Alec steps in to help. Unfortunately that also means he’ll be having sex with a stranger in public.

DATE NIGHT by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ G | 562 | complete ]

“Look, it’s no big deal,” Alec says. “The angles in pool are just like archery. I have a natural advantage.”

“Pretty sure I beat you the first time we played,” Magnus says, taking a sip of his martini. He couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed, so at home in a relationship.

That is, until Alec started winning.

HARDER THAN THE LIQUOR I POUR by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 6.5k | complete ]

The bartender considers him for a moment before holding out the hand that was over his just a second before. “I’m Magnus, bartender extraordinaire. While I certainly wouldn’t mind calling you pretty boy for the rest of the evening, I think it only fair that you share your name, too. Don’t you?”

Slowly, Alec reaches out and grasps Magnus’s hand in a poor imitation of a handshake. He meets Magnus’s eyes and knows they both know that this is a mere prelude for what’s to come.

“Alec,” he says slowly and watches as Magnus’s smile deepens.

“Well, Alec, my shift ends in an hour. Wait for me?”

CREAM by @ohfreckle [ E | 3.4k | complete ]

Sometimes Magnus likes to wear panties.

“Are you kidding? You look amazing!” Alec wishes he were more eloquent, that he could miraculously find the words and praise to express how fucking hot Magnus is with his little panties on.

SAY IT by @ilovealeclightwood [ E | 4k | complete ]

“I want you,” Magnus pressed his lips to Alec’s neck, the sensation of his lips against the deflect rune making Alec shudder again.

“To admit,” Magnus continued, pausing to run his tongue over the length of the rune, sending sparks of pleasure through Alec and making him try to jerk his hips up again.

“That I was right.” Magnus pulled away from his neck to look down at him and it took a second for what he meant to click with Alec.

---

Or, Magnus and Alec solve petty arguments in a sensable, responsible manner

ALL NIGHT (OR A HUNDRED YEARS) by @hourglassmermaid [ T | 4.3k | complete ]

“Get your mind out of the gutter, Raphael,” Magnus chastises. “You know I take care of my friends.”

Friends. The word stings more than kuri venom; it lingers far longer than any demon attack ever could. It lingers in Alec’s mind when he’s tossing and turning at night imagining what they could have been if Alec hadn’t been such a coward all those years ago. It lingers in his heart whenever they’re alone, and Alec swears he sees a glimmer of those feelings Magnus must have buried long ago. And it lingers in his soul whenever they work together as allies, as leaders, as partners, because they really are compatible in all the ways that count.

But none of that matters, because they’re just friends.

---

Alec and Magnus are colleagues — maybe even friends. Definitely allies. Alec's content, with his life, his career, and even his (lack of) relationships, but sometimes when Magnus sits beside him, Alec may or may not cease to function. It's okay; he's okay.

I SAW PAPA KISSING SANTA CLAUS by j__writes [ G | AU | 3.3k | complete ]

“I heard a noise and so I snuck out. He didn’t see me but I saw him. I saw Santa and then I saw Papa and he kissed Santa, Raf.”

LIKE NOBODY ELSE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 3.7k | complete ]

Simon’s been Alec’s assistant for the past three years. Alec was a hard ass, no doubt about it. He had exacting standards, a perpetually sardonic expression, and Simon had literally never seen the man smile.

Lightwood had exploded onto the scene ten years ago and in that time, he’s made a name for himself that no one else could rival. He might not be well liked but everyone-- even his enemies-- respected Lightwood.

Or, Simon is Alec's secretary and doesn't realize just how little he knows about his boss until he solves a mystery.

SEXY SNAPSHOTS by @tobythewise [ E | AU | 2.8k | complete ]

“Anything interesting on there?” Alec asks, a teasing note in his voice as he nods at the camera. “Anything sexy?" “Not at the moment.” Magnus raises his brow. “Wanna change that?” OR The one where Magnus and Alec explore what it's like to have sexy times while snapping sexy pictures of each other.

PUNDAMENTALS OF OFFICE RIVALRY by @bytheangell [ T | AU | 3.8k | complete ]

When Magnus and Alexander get off on the wrong foot at the start of their internship, Magnus takes it upon himself to annoy Alec at every turn.

WORSE THINGS THAN BEING IN LOVE by @aemiliafawn [ E | 4.6k | complete ]

Their wedding was everything they had ever dared to dream of. But perhaps their wedding night was just as special.

CRYPTIDS OF BROOKLYN by @alexanderlightweight [ M | AU | 2.3k | complete ]

For all the rather redundant and overused jokes made about lawyers and sharks, never was such a comparison or joke made concerning Alec Lightwood, as there was one glaring difference between the two ruthless predators.

Sharks smiled, Alec Lightwood didn’t.

ZERO COMPLAINTS by @aemiliafawn [ E | 3.3k | complete ]

Usually when someone wakes Magnus up before sunrise they'd have to face his wrath – however since Alec decides to make it actually worthwhile for the exhausted warlock, Magnus finds he doesn't mind making an exception just once.

HAHA JUST KIDDING... UNLESS? by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 2.5k | complete ]

"You know Magnus wouldn’t joke about boning his best friend just to do it. You mean too much to him and we all know how gone you’ve been over Magnus since, like, eighth grade.”

Alec sighs and it feels like the weight of the world is on his shoulders. “I can’t get my hopes up, Jace. I’ve been in love with him for years but he doesn’t feel the same way.”

Groaning like they’ve gone around the block about this a thousand times-- because they have-- Jace facepalms. “How many times do I have to tell you-- Magnus feels what you feel but you’re both too stupid to get past your own hang-ups to talk about it.”

TAKE IT EASY by @la-muerta [ E | AU | 18.2k | complete ]

Alec signs up for a session with a professional male dominant, just a one-time thing to satisfy his curiosity. It most definitely doesn't end up being just a one-time thing.

THE LONELY HEARTS HOTLINE by @unrestrainedlyexcessive [ E | AU | 40.6k | complete ]

“Hey there,” Alec says in the lowest, sexiest voice he can manage. It sounds vaguely disinterested but some people get off on that.

“Hi,” the voice says.

“Ready to have some fun?”

The voice makes a small, sad noise.

“Or not?” Alec tries hastily. He gets paid regardless of what they're talking about. “We can just chat for a while.”

“What’s your name,” the voice says finally.

“Uh, Chad,” Alec says. He was drunk when he picked his name, just as he was drunk when he answered the job wanted ad. He should have picked something sexy like Tristan, but he’s forever Chad now, the douchiest phone sex operator in history. He balances his bowl of macaroni carefully on his stomach and sneaks a quick bite.

“You don’t sound like a Chad,” the voice says doubtfully.

“Why the hell not?” Alec says before he can stop himself, mouth full of pasta.

“--are you eating?”

“No,” Alec lies and swallows.

---

Alec is a bored phone sex operator. Bafflingly, Magnus just wants to talk about music.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN by @lecrit [ E | AU | 104.3k | complete | To Build A Home #1 ]

When Magnus gets to Nashville, Indiana to handle his late mother's will, he doesn't expect to be forced to stay there for six months. Six months away from New York and lost in the wildness of the countryside.

It quickly appears that he is going to go through six months of living hell.

The fact that he hates the local veterinarian on sight isn't helping.

BRIGHT LIGHTS, SMALL TOWN: EXTRAS by @lecrit [ E | AU | 12.6k | complete | To Build A Home #2 ]

A combination of extras for Bright Lights, Small Town.

EARTH’S MIGHTIEST HEROES by @lecrit [ M | AU | 141.9k | complete | Avengers Assemble #3 ]

The thing is… Their plans have a history of not going accordingly so when they finally do, maybe they build a confidence a bit too quickly. Breaking Magnus out turns out to be indeed a formality. Selling the ruby, too. So what could possibly go wrong now?

In which our team of misfits has to deal with the consequences of messing with a dangerous man and again, everything goes according to plan. Or not.

COLOR ME BLUE by @carmenlire [ not rated | AU | 18.8k | complete ]

Christmas is his favorite time of the year but Alec has barely had time to buy presents let alone enjoy the holiday season. December seems to have lasted the blink of an eye and Alec's shoulders hunch as he realizes morosely that most of this year is a blur of emergencies and rounds and consultations.

His gaze snags on a bakery display as he walks past. The window is dressed with multicolored lights and garland wrapping around the edges. The display case is full and Alec’s mouth waters just at the sight.

Without conscious thought, Alec is reaching for the door to Bane's Bakery, eager to see if the interior is just as whimsical and welcoming as the outside.

#malec #malec fic #malec fic rec #malec fanfic #shadowhunters #fic rec #fanfic #otp: look what i have waiting for me

1K notes · View notes

soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG179! TTwwwwwTT

- That was such a short statement! As far as Desolation goes, this one really reminded me of MAG107 for the fear of losing what and who’s precious to you (“What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.”), having to contribute to that loss, and the loss being always followed by another loss. I really like how it managed to develop its own implacable rhythm through the cycles of repetition becoming shorter and shorter: the succession of losses, the litany of “I got you”, “he had Colin’s back”/“Derek has his back”, “The first time”/“The second time”/“The third time”… stopping with Daisy’s irruption. It really felt like she was breaking an implacable series of routines – though by inflicting worse. I like how Derek and Colin’s relationship managed to indeed feel so deep, intricate and complicated in such a few lines – with the fact that Colin had helped Derek on so many occasions, including to ensure the disappearance of his father’s body (killed in self-defence while he was being abusive?), and… that gratefulness slowly becoming a burden dragging Derek down (taking Colin’s defence, taking the blame for him, losing more and more, sinking and being pushed even deeper by the “bored cop” – Daisy? – who just made things worse because they could). Their relationship being an anchor in both senses: the help to get out of a situation, and the thing pulling you down. It was already evoking Daisy and Basira’s partnership, already reminding us of Daisy’s crimes, and already indirectly coming for Basira’s throat.

It’s interesting that in this domain, Derek never seemed to have the certainty of the identity of the corpses or items he was incinerating? He worried about Tilly when seeing the toys, but it was not stated whether they were hers, and, in the same way, the corpse was never said to be Colin’s (“Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow”) although it triggered the memories. Given how concrete Derek’s (life)story sounded before getting trapped in this domain (… which seems to be: the furnace of the junkyard where Colin worked, where the body of Derek’s father disappeared), down to his brush with the police, I wonder if these memories were fabricated by the Domain, or if some bits were genuine bits from his past life? We’ve seen some doubt flickering about whether or not Mehreen really had a family in the Vast domain (MAG174), it could be another case of the Fears creating memories to squeeze the most of their victims… but with Derek, we do have the certainty that he had encountered Daisy before the Change and that she had felt that he had “got away”, since she was hunting him…

(I also got hit by the realisation that… this might be the last Desolation statement/story we ever get in the series; 14-15 Fears means that statistically, each would get 2 to 3 statements per season. We might still get another Something related to the Desolation before the end of the show, about Agnes and/or Hill Top Road and/or the Web lighter and/or the fact that Web seems weak to Desolation and/or about the recurring motif of burning down the Archives… but this could have been the last one. It’s even likelier that we won’t get any more Flesh statement/domain after MAG178’s, and I had not realised when that one aired. It’s weird to think “this might be the last time we hear about x”, since the end of the series is approaching?)

- I’m still wondering about the “death” status:

(MAG177) BASIRA: She’s been killing. MARTIN: What? No – no, that can’t be right. I–I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more. ARCHIVIST: Not permanently, but, uh… Ah.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: “… Another victim. Another hunt. The pain and terror courses through him. Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware, though not, perhaps, alive.”

We’ve seen her butcher this corpse (and she had been awful with the previous ones, too) – are they meant to respawn? To remain stuck in this state, technically “aware” without being alive? (Though: “aware, though not, perhaps, alive” might be a definition which could apply to… everyone trapped in the domains.)

- Still that thing about the sounds, when Jon gives his statements! It’s naturally been growing stronger: he creates his own soundscape when giving a statement, illustrating the main’s victim surroundings… and that soundscape fades away as soon as Jon is done. Is that a new power developing…? Is it because of dream logic, an extension of his role as a sort of story-teller (he’s supposed to make his audience imagine the sounds, and yet the sounds come to illustrate what he’s saying)…? This one was especially curious because we heard Daisy, who was… currently tearing into a body nearby (but not in the same room as Jon), as if she was present.

- AHAHA.

(MAG179) BASIRA: She’s here, then? ARCHIVIST: [SURPRISED] Basira? I… I–I didn’t hear you, uh… BASIRA: No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.

It sure feels like something screaming “JON HAS A WEAKNESS, AND IT MIGHT BE USED AGAINST HIM SOON”, in the same way as Annabelle highlighting that Jon was now forced to read a statement until its end once he had begun was followed by Jonah using that trick for his ritual ;; We’ve already seen this at work, how Martin had trouble shaking Jon off from giving a statement, in Jude’s domain; since the episode ended with Jon and Martin going off on their own again… Big Fear that at some point, Jon will come back to his surroundings to discover that Martin is just… gone.

After MAG170 (Martin getting lost in the Lonely house), it looked like Jon and Martin were a bit more cautious about getting separated in domains: instead of leaving Jon completely alone, Martin had stayed quite close or right next to him in a few instances (MAG171, MAG176, and MAG172 although Martin ended up wandering off). In the last two episodes, Basira had initially stayed with Martin: was it an additional security for Jon? I wonder what they’ll go back to, starting next episode – if Martin will stay close, or if they’ll go back to Jon doing his thing in his corner.

- ;________; Basira and Jon’s bantering felt… so nice?

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: I thought you were keeping watch. BASIRA: I was. Watched you sneak away. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. BASIRA: You apologise too much. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Martin says the same thing…! BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Like he’s any better!

They felt like they genuinely liked each other again, were able to share things, even with dry teasing? It didn’t feel like Basira was trying to insult him, but rather that they shared the same sense of humour, here and there…

Jon’s FONDNESS when he explained that Martin tells him the same thing still kills me. AND TO BE FAIR, yeah, this season, Jon and Martin have the tendency to spontaneously say “sorry” for various things… a lot. And sometimes, it’s genuine and important “sorry”, or them apologising for something unpleasant they’re doing! But both Jon and Martin do say it a lot. (And displayed it in this episode, even! Martin apologising over Jon’s leg when performing first aid, Jon once again telling Basira that he couldn’t do anything for Daisy, and that he was “sorry” over what had to happen…)

- I really felt like Jon… wanted to spare Basira a bit, by not forcing her to face what Daisy had done to this victim. Is it because Basira had already agreed to look in the previous two cases, and was now ready to kill her? Because Jon’s point had come across, and that he didn’t want to kick Basira while she was already down and there was no need anymore? He had been way harsher towards her in the previous episode:

(MAG177) MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her… BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

(MAG179) BASIRA: … Why didn’t you want me to hear this one? ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret. ARCHIVIST: U–uhh… Hum… BASIRA: Because this one was Daisy’s victim? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. BASIRA: … Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened? ARCHIVIST: I just had a sense of it. BASIRA: So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what I thought. BASIRA: Sure. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. A–after everything we’ve already talked about, I–I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? People have their reasons for doing wrong? The system hurts everyone? … Just seemed kind of… pointless. BASIRA: Yeah. I guess. ARCHIVIST: [SELF-DEPRECATIVE SCOFF] Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation. […] So… You did hear it, then? BASIRA: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help? BASIRA: With what? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know…! BASIRA: … Me neither.

* So Jon is able to get a sense of what the domain’s statement will be about, before he even starts? Previously, he had known that they were in “Wonderland House” before beginning his statement, but I had the impression he mostly knew what the domain was about – not about… specific victims. It reminds me of what Annabelle had said about him regarding the written statements (MAG147: “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…?”), and how he had known about the overall subject of Floyd Matharu’s statement before hearing it. Martin only recently called what Jon has been doing in season 5 “make a statement”, and I really wonder if we’ll learn… what Jon is doing exactly, through those, when he overloads and needs to put the stories into words…

* Small things, here and there: in the previous episode, Basira had agreed to open up, had asked Jon for confirmations, had acknowledged that Jon knew the way towards Daisy and that she had to follow him. I like how nuanced it was, from Jon to want to hide this statement from Basira, that he didn’t want to feel like he was “accusing” her by insisting on things Basira had now understood? And how Basira still wants to know why he would do this – is it condescending, is it coming from a place of sympathy, from absolute awkwardness? (And there is something so fragile and precious in the fact that on the one hand, Jon might have wanted to protect Basira from this one; and on the other hand, Basira wanted to know why he would hide from her… but didn’t jump to his throat about it, and mostly wanted to know why?)

* Tiny progress on Jon’s part? Hearing him acknowledge that he didn’t really know his own reasons for wanting to hide this statement from Basira, and that not being treated like a big deal… seems like a tiny step, compared to his Web paranoia from season 4, when Jon was agonising over Beholding and The Web influencing his actions? Doing something and not knowing why, or rationalising afterwards, would usually be pinned on The Web, but it seems like Jon went back to treat it as something natural, that doesn’t need to be inspected further.

* I like how it really feels like Basira isn’t trying to flee anymore? Just… takes it all in, and accepts that Daisy had wronged someone else.

- Aouch, about the mention of the kidnappings ;_;

(MAG179) BASIRA: Should’ve been sneakier, then. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … Never been my strong suit, has it? BASIRA: How many times have you been kidnapped at this point? ARCHIVIST: That depends if you– … Hm. BASIRA: … Say it. ARCHIVIST: Depends if you count Daisy. [TENSION & BREATHING]

… Because Basira already knew the answer, and used to be much more callous and mean about it in front of Jon:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice.

But this episode came after Jon explained how genuinely traumatising Daisy’s kidnapping had been… So it was a bittersweet example of light-hearted banter (Jon and Basira weren’t aggressive! They were joking with each other!) quickly turning sour, accidentally.

- Martin’s Life Is Hard And No One Understands:

(MAG179) [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL, APPROACHING] MARTIN: [SLIGHTLY BREATHLESS] Hey-hey! Hey, she’s– she’s, she’s here! [PANTS] BASIRA: What, what? Now? MARTIN: Yeah–yeah, she just… she just tore into a guy, it was…! [SHAKEN] He was, oh, urgh… ARCHIVIST: Yes, we–we understand, Martin.

… Martin found ANOTHER corpse. Gertrude, Leitner, what’s-left-of-Jonah-though-not-technically-a-corpse-since-Martin-was-supposed-to-kill-him, Noah Thomson in MAG177, now this one… Martin, you corpse-magnet.

- Was it Derek’s, since Jon had just given the statement ending with Daisy tearing into him? Did Jon narrate it as it was happening? There is something very curious about the fact that Daisy could interact with both the domains’ victims and our little group – since she ended up injuring Jon, and was shot by Basira. We also got this with Trevor (who was “prey”, but still shot by Basira, who didn’t belong to that domain). Is it a characteristic of Hunters, able to go through the lines in the same way that they had the ability to kill avatars, before the Change? Martin did collide into people/projections last episode (and apologised for it), so it seems like they can interact with victims and not only avatars in the domains, and I wonder if Jon’s power might help them at some point…

- SOB that Daisy’s hunt was not solely about killing the people she labelled as “criminals who got away”. It was about desecrating them, making it as painful as possible (they’re “aware” of what is happening), and… consumption? (She had gotten thinner and had trouble eating towards the end of season 4, is that an echo of it, a way of trying to compensate…?)

- Second gigantic red flag of the episode:

(MAG179) BASIRA: You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t notice, I was talking to you! BASIRA: Fine, whatever.

… The fact that Jon can get distracted and miss information about his surroundings when he’s focusing on something else. It’s extremely Elias-like (it’s how the Archives team had taken him down in season 3), and absolutely feels like something that could get used against Jon at some point…

- I missed Daisy so much, and the first time we hear her live again, she’s reintroduced through the sounds of her EATING THE CORPSE OF SOMEONE SHE JUST KILLED. Cries cries cries.

(Poor Martin: he was audibly upset by the carnage. Too close to Flesh? I remember how Jon had mentioned that he had trouble looking at pictures, in MAG072’s post-statement.)

- Martin’s small interruption made me wonder…

(MAG179) MARTIN: [SUDDEN GASP] [A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER] [DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION] BASIRA: [HUSHED, ANGRY] The hell was that!? MARTIN: Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I thought you were about to fire! BASIRA: So you gasped just in case? MARTIN: Look, it’s a tense situation alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m not a sniper! BASIRA: Goddamnit!

… if this wasn’t him trying to sabotage the operation because he didn’t want Daisy to die ;_; Though I can absolutely believe that he really just… gasped in advance, because he was too tense. (Also, I LIVE for Martin’s rants about how he’s not equipped to face this kind of stuff.)

… However, meanwhile, Jon was… definitely trying to delay the inevitable:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: [HUSHED] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces. But… then the smoke wouldn’t cover us– BASIRA: It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus. ARCHIVIST: … Alright. […] Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W–we can always… back off, regroup, w–wait for a better situation, one where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse. BASIRA: Don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: What am I missing here? BASIRA: He knows, as well as I do, that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity. MARTIN: … Now or never then. BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

I didn’t feel like Jon thought that Basira wasn’t ready, or that the sight was too unsettling for him to bear… but more like it was Jon himself who wasn’t ready for Daisy to be killed, and didn’t want to admit it? While as for Basira, she clearly had progressed towards that resolution:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes.

(MAG179) BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

(I’m also proud of Martin for immediately asking for clarifications when he was lacking information! … Well, wasn’t exactly the moment to ask, but it’s good that he pointed out, right away, that he was out of the loop. Audience surrogate in action.)

- I lovelovelove TMA’s ability to give tension and also deliver the silliest scenes, while saying so much about its characters:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Uh… BASIRA: Yeah, Jon. It is. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys, guys… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: Look. I know it’s hard, and you have your reasons– MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: –but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself– MARTIN: [EXASPERATED, HUSHED] Shut up! Both of you! BASIRA: What? MARTIN: She’s gone! ARCHIVIST: Wait, what? … Oh. Oh no…

* It’s being hammered in pretty heavily that Jon is not looking in Basira’s or Martin’s heads.

* OUFT, Basira was absolutely on edge and it showed: she went back to one of her regular accusations regarding Jon’s powers, dating from season 4… with the same unfairness. Back then, Jon wasn’t really able to control his bits of Knowing; it’s not that he has “decided” to respect people’s privacy nowadays, it’s just that he couldn’t really do that back then, and is doing his best to do it now that he can.

* … And it says so much about Basira that she immediately assumes that someone with power would casually abuse it… given her own relationship with Daisy, and what Daisy used to do, who she used to be.

* I live for Basira’s pet names:

(MAG140) BASIRA: By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I told you, I know everything now, more or less. I can see her. With my, uh… BASIRA: … Magic horrorvision? ARCHIVIST: Sure.

(MAG179) BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it.

* IT REMINDED ME OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES!!!

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin! Stop trying to touch the plastic explosive! MARTIN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. MELANIE: Guys… ARCHIVIST: Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something… MARTIN: Look, I said, I said I’m sorry… MELANIE: Guys! ARCHIVIST & MARTIN: What?

Team Archive, a bunch of adorable idiots.

* It was suuuuuch a cliché scene and I loved it to pieces, with special *chef kiss* to the sound of Daisy’s meal stopping, and Martin’s hushed outburst <3

- Overall, I really love how the scene was… almost underwhelming? It was messy and awkward, it wasn’t heroic and grand, it wasn't an iconic showdown with a mythical creature. It was mundane, didn’t even feel supernatural? Just… a big dog having grabbed Jon and not letting him go, and how it was affecting characters – Jon being in pain, Martin in absolute anguish over Jon, Basira still trying, a few last times, to pull Daisy back to reason.

- Oh, Martin… the fact that his reflex was still to worry for Jon and Jon’s safety:

(MAG179) MARTIN: Let him go! BASIRA: Get out the way! ARCHIVIST: Take the shot! MARTIN: No, you’ll hit Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, take the shot Basira! … Uh… [STRONGER GROWLS] Basira! Do it! MARTIN: Don’t!

… even though Jon is the least likely to get permanent damage from anything, and this was their only opportunity? Martin ;_;

- Crying a LOT all through it about… Basira’s attempts to bring Daisy back, although she had discussed the theory already (that Jon couldn’t do anything, that she would have to kill her, that Daisy was “happy” in her current state). But it was more difficult to apply in practice, and it’s heartbreaking that Basira couldn’t help but hope that a positive outcome was still possible:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Daisy, stop! Please. ARCHIVIST: [WHIMPER] [DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED] DAISY: [AROUND A MOUTHFUL OF ARCHIVIST] … Basiraaa? BASIRA: Oh, god. Daisy… […] She knows who I am! She recognises me. MARTIN: B–Basira! BASIRA: Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please… […] Daisy, please… Jon, can you… Can you do anything? DAISY: Basiiira… ARCHIVIST: [BREATHLESS] I’m sorry, I told you, she’s… she’s too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her…! BASIRA: [PLEADINGLY] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…

And I HATE THAT I COULDN’T HELP BUT HOPE, TOO, GDI!!! Because Daisy was still listening (in a way) to what Basira was saying, since she released Jon, and since we had cases where it had been possible to bring someone back from the clutch of a Fear (Jon had managed to save Martin from The Lonely by making him “see” him, after all), so I couldn’t help but hope for something of the same kind… even though Daisy had been involved in The Hunt for almost her entire life, and had warned that returning to it would mean her end, and that Jon had explained in the previous episode that no, he couldn’t do anything to save her ;_;

- Crying about how even before Basira explained what Daisy was offering, there was a double-meaning in what she was saying:

(MAG179) DAISY: Basiraaa… C–come… Come on… BASIRA: … What? DAISY: Come. Got to… get them! […] DAISY: Partner. C–come. [STATIC RISES, FAINTLY] BASIRA: … Oh. I see. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: She… She wants me to join her. In the Hunt. MARTIN: What…? Could… Is that even possible? BASIRA: … Yes. I can… feel it. In the blood. ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Basira…

Was it “Come on” as in “fulfil your promise and kill me”, or “come to me / kill them with me”? AND IT WAS THE SECOND ONE, GODSDAMNIT!!

- Extremely curious about Basira’s static: was it a trace of Beholding allowing her to know? Was it the call of The Hunt? Did it only happen because of Daisy and Basira’s connection? Did it only happen because they were each other’s “anchor”, in a very twisted and bittersweet way (just like Colin&Derek in the statement, the thing stabilising and saving you… and the think that can also drag you down and under)?

I’m not surprised that Basira had the potential in her to answer the call of The Hunt (down to hearing the Blood): she behaved like a Hunter in season 4 especially, and was on Daisy’s trail for all of this season, after all. But I’m sobbing about how instead of saving Daisy, the other possible outcome would have been for Basira to fall into The Hunt’s clutch, too – that until the end, there was still this echo of Basira and Daisy being “partners”, being identified as such by everyone:

(MAG082) MARTIN: I… I’m making a statement. Isn’t that what you want? My statement? DAISY: No. I just need you to answer the question. MARTIN: Oh. Okay. I mean, y–you wanted a statement last time. About… it was… when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did. […] ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG088) MARTIN: Well, I’m sure your partner will find him; I just hope she’s not as– BASIRA: No, I need to find him now! You’re sure you don’t know where she is?

(MAG092) ELIAS: She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course.

(MAG112) BASIRA: How about you? DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it? […] DAISY: Fine. … Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she’s coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I, I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone. […] BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave we blow it all to hell. Or, we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

… but in the negative way. When it comes to Basira&Daisy as a relationship, there is something extremely sad in the fact that they never managed to have the willingness to improve and “be better” at the same time: Daisy did it in season 4, when Basira was too obsessed with trying to compensate for her powerlessness and refused to hold Daisy accountable for her past actions; and Basira did it, early in her police career when she first thought about quitting, and in season 5 when she finally acknowledged the damage she had caused or allowed to be caused, when it was too late for Daisy.

I wonder if Daisy, as a beast, wasn’t a concentration of her most toxic traits? We know that she was punishing people whom she identified (pre-Coffin) as criminals that had gotten away. Her last attempt to drag Basira with her in this Hunt really feels… like a last attempt to get back the relationship they had as colleagues and partners? She had mentioned that she missed working with Basira, in season 3 (to the point of considering asking Elias to allow them to work on a case together)…

- ;_; Goodbye, Daisy…

(MAG179) BASIRA: I can’t leave her like this, she’s… always had my back. Always. MARTIN: Basira, don’t, please… DAISY: Partner… Come… [MORE FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: … Not now. Not after everything. DAISY: [IMPATIENT] Basira, now! BASIRA: I… can’t…! DAISY: Basira! [GUNSHOT] [SNARLING] [TWO MORE GUNSHOTS] [DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD] [THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES] [SILENCE BUT FOR BREATHS] MARTIN: … Basira, I– BASIRA: Shut up. MARTIN: … I’m sorry, I–I know– BASIRA: [DANGEROUSLY] Shut. Up.

* Same as with Daisy’s “Come on”, I got that doubt about whether was Basira’s “I can’t” meant “I can’t kill her”, or “I can’t join her in The Hunt”…

* Basira’s “she’s always had my back” HURT A LOT after Derek’s statement (“When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back.”)… but it also demonstrated the difference, beautifully: the fact that Basira was now able to say Stop and No when it was going too far, the fact that she refused to keep being complicit.

* Basira rejecting The Hunt felt, to me, like Martin rejecting The Lonely in the house? They had the opportunity to take an “easier” path, less painful, allowing them to forget about the hurt they had suffered… and chose differently.

- Basira shot once, then twice.

So three shots in total.

Was it Alex’s audio revenge for the “Turns out Gertrude was too much of a badass to die from just a single gunshot” debacle. (=> Three bullets in total, but only one at first, and the other two happened, uh, at some point off-tape.)

- Martin exploding the Swear Budget and taking the lead this season if you don’t count per episode but per occurrences! /o/

(MAG179) BASIRA: I… Sure, just… let him go. [LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASES THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT] MARTIN: Oh, Jon! Oh shit, shit–shit–shit! Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. [MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID] ARCHIVIST: Ah, ah, ah…! MARTIN: I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry, you j–, you need to keep pressure on that leg while I, I sort this, hum…

(SOB ABOUT MARTIN’S “I got you”… also paralleling Colin&Derek (“I got you.” That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath: “I got you.” When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off: “I got you.” When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with: “I got you.”) On so many levels, it really feels like relationships can so easily become twisted and mutually toxic, or pushing people towards worse; the main difference we saw with Jon and Martin is that, meanwhile, they’ve actively communicated and tried to be better for each other, and navigate around principles, but it feels so easy to tip over the line…)

- Crying over Basira hours:

* It was a Desolation domain; the case that got her Sectioned (which stopped her from resigning when she had been thinking about it, and reinforced her ties with Daisy) had been a Desolation incident. (MAG043) Talking about loss, and Basira closing a chapter…

* … The event that directly led her to signing away her freedom to the Institute had been her saving Jon from Daisy (MAG091). When they reunited, out of anger, she said that she regretted having saved Jon back then (MAG177: “I should’ve known, I… I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start.”), and yet… she saved him from Daisy once again. This time by killing her.

- CRYING OVER JON HOURS:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

… I’m not so sure that she hadn’t recognised him. Amongst the three of them, it’s him that Daisy… so she might have been identifying him as “prey/criminal/monster who got away”… ;_;

I’m glad (AND SAD) that Jon acknowledged the fact that they had grown close in season 4, THAT THEY WERE “FRIENDS”, and heartbroken that he… is indeed hit by the lack of closure.

But what about Basira? True, Daisy “recognised” her, but it was… to try and drag her along into her monstrous life. As far as last words go, Basira did get a kind of goodbye, however:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run!

Compared to Jon:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

… Or even worse, Martin:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, all right, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE WRITING] DAISY: … Right. You got it.

I mean. Martin and Daisy only had One Good ConversationTM, but Martin. Martin, please. It was blatantly to protect Daisy from Peter, but your last words to her had basically been telling her to fork off.

- I feel like Martin might be trying to compartmentalise now but about to shatter soon, because… he had mentioned being happy at the prospect of “helping” their “friends” back in MAG175. I agree that in Daisy’s case, helping and leading Basira to fulfil her promise was the best they could hope for, but it’s still… absolutely grim. Since they left the cabin, they’ve not helped victims, not even children, they’ve discovered that Jon’s powers were incredibly powerful but also making him “worse”, they’ve helped Basira to kill Daisy and… that’s it. Jon had told Martin that there was no “better” in this world, and it’s hard to disagree, with how things are right now.

Is Martin still firmly believing that the Institute will be different, that they can do something to help? Or will he grow a bit more desperate? Susceptible to Annabelle’s call, or to try to contact her to accept her “help” because he feels like their options are dwindling…?

- Oh, about Jon getting patched up…

(MAG179) [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] MARTIN: Come on. I need to patch that leg up properly, the last thing we need is a limp slowing us down. ARCHIVIST: [GRUNTS AND GASPS] MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. ARCHIVIST: [DISTRACTED] Hmm? No, they’re, they’re fine. MARTIN: I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…! ARCHIVIST: [DRY CHUCKLE]

* ;_; Parallel to their first “heart-to-heart talk”, in MAG039: when Jon had been wormed, specifically in his leg, and Sasha and Martin took care of it…

* Martin remembers the not!tea from the trailer, uh. (He was also the only one to read a statement involving snakes-like spooky creatures!)

* … Martin, that’s a lot of thread-like things you’re carrying or mentioning this season:

(MAG162) MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG179) MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. […] I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…!

This is how Web!Martin can still w-

(Though, genuinely, I’m a bit… suspicious that Martin hadn’t mentioned them until now and had “forgotten” he had them, and that Jon was ~distracted~ when he was talking about them? Had Martin really packed them before they left the cabin, or is that something he packed later during the journey, without noticing, such as when he was in the Web domain…?)

- THIRD big red flag regarding Jon’s powers in the episode:

(MAG179) MARTIN: I, I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all…! ARCHIVIST: Yes, that… came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually…! MARTIN: You didn’t know? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think to check, just, sort of… assumed it was safe. MARTIN: That’s a pretty big assumption, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Hmm, apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange but it… it… felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me. MARTIN: Dream logic again? ARCHIVIST: Mmm. The… “resonances” from our relationship before the Change carried over and– Ah! Ah…! MARTIN: Hold still.

… A clear limitation in his pseudo-omniscience/all-knowledge is that he can… still assume (incorrect) things. That’s pretty big, as far as his knowledge goes: this means he has to actively think about checking things before they happen. What more may have gone under his radar already…?

* I’m not sure specifically why Daisy was able to hurt him. Jon had explained that:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

Was it because she had hurt him so deeply in the forest, reviving that pain? Was it because they used to be friends, and Jon knew he was going to lose her, and only people Jon cares about can hurt him? Was it because of the mix of trauma&friendship, specific to her, that Daisy was bring with her?

* SOB over the fact that Daisy hurt him AGAIN… and had given him his Hunt mark in the forest… It wasn’t the first time they had interacted, but…

* Given the amount of things that run on dream-logic, and given how the Fears interact with their victims, it really feels like humans are both subjected to the Fears and shaping the world, themselves? I wonder if they’ll get some agency back through “feels right” logic, or if even that would get denied since, well, the Dread Powers work through pain and suffering, not… to help in anything.

* … Martin, please, was it accidental or did you squeeze hard because Jon was mentioning having an Important Relationship with someone else. (MARTIN BLEASE…)

- ;_; I’m not extremely surprised by Basira closing up and needing to do her mourning/to find her closure on her own… but it still breaks my heart so much, in the way she alternated between trying to be firm and dry, and pleading:

(MAG179) BASIRA: I’m… going to stay here. Burn the body. ARCHIVIST: Of course, we can wait. I still need to, uh… BASIRA: No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London. [A BAG IS ZIPPED] MARTIN: … What? N–no, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this! BASIRA: Please. Just go. MARTIN: … Wait… Seriously? ARCHIVIST: Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us, I… can’t guarantee your safety. BASIRA: Good. MARTIN: Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone. BASIRA: It’s just… something I have to do. … You said follow the tower, right? ARCHIVIST: Right. MARTIN: No, no, this is ridiculous, you could die! BASIRA: I’ll do my best not to. MARTIN: This isn’t a joke, Basira! ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– BASIRA: It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. […] [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will. ARCHIVIST: [GENTLY] Come on. [FOOTSTEPS] [INHALE] For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this. BASIRA: … I’m not.

* Confirmation that Jon seems to have been protecting Martin and her from the domains’ influence so far, as long as they stayed close to him?

* “Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.” => mix of “who’s talking.” and “MARTIN. HAS. LEARNED!” (It’s what he did all through season 4 ;w; He knows that from personal experience…)

* I’M HAVING FEELINGS over that tiny Martin-Basira soft moment… gosh… (I’m remembering how Basira had been very cautious and defensive of Martin when she had explained to Jon that Martin had had a bad time… because he had lost his mother, at the beginning of season 4, and how she had clearly seen that it had impacted him… She was often harsh towards him, but she wasn’t heartless…)

* So Panopstitute is now a shared goal AND the point where they will supposedly meet up.

* Overall: I want to believe that Basira will be okay on her own journey, aaaaaaaaaah ;_; Clearly in pain, but I want to hope that she’ll be fine on her own, and getting a bit better…

* Proud of Jon for explicitly asking Basira’s permission to watch/know about her ;_; Consent! (And he’s worried, too!)

* I wonder if Jon’s leg was truly healing, as he claimed, since we didn’t hear static that would suggest a supernatural healing speed? It is truly getting better, or is he hiding the pain and injury since they have to leave now? (… Given the overall dream logic, I would almost expect the injury to not heal as long as Jon doesn’t truly process Daisy’s death, but we’ll see.)

* Sob for how Basira&Jon joked about his apologising too much… and the episode ended with Jon apologising over what had happened.

- H… Hey… Daisy was officially an Archival Assistant since season 4, since she had signed the contract in order to get rid of the dreams… So the curse of “one Assistant dies every odd-numbered season” has already been fulfilled, right…? So there doesn’t need to be any more death in the team this season, right? So there won’t be another Assistant death ever, unless Jonny writes a season 7, RIGHT…?

- Goodbye Daisy ;_; You were amazing in season 4, I couldn’t help but still cross fingers that there was a sliver of hope to get you back once again, and I’m SAD for you (and for Basira), and I hope that you can finally “listen to the quiet” again ;___;

Time to relisten to season 4 and think about you making Jon listen to The Archers.

I’m TwwwwT super sad (in a good way) about Jon lamenting that he would have liked to be able to say his goodbyes to Daisy, and acknowledging that they had been close (“FRIENDS”!!!), kinda hoping that the page is not turned (and-then-we-never-talked-about-Daisy-ever-again) but that instead the loss will cling to them a bit and that there will be Sadness about it. It’s… still a death, it’s still a loss, it’s still something that hurt and stung! ;w;

- … I feel like there might have been some implication contained within the fact that they agreed to kill Daisy in the current circumstances…? Jon said that he couldn’t do anything for her anymore because she was “too deep” in; but they chose to do it now, meaning that… she couldn’t have got better when/if they manage to turn the world back and stop the apocalypse. So either they’ve slowly grown accustomed to thinking that the world can’t get better, either… Daisy wouldn’t have survived anyway if the world were to be “fixed” and freed from the clutch of the Fears. So what does that mean about Jon, who is absolutely deep into Beholding? What would happen to Jon, the Archivist, the Archive, if the world was to be saved? Could he survive a Change Back, or would he just disappear like the Fears?

(- For once, I’m actually a bit surprised at the title since… “Accomplice” worked for the statement, it worked for Basira&Daisy’s relationship as it used to be, but it wasn’t really applying to Basira anymore – this is precisely the episode where she definitely refused to go back to being an “accomplice”. “Partner(s)” had been the word characteristic of Daisy&Basira’s relationship and would have been the title I would have expected for this episode, given their dynamic.

… So instead, it makes me whimp out the red string, and consider that the “accomplice(s)” might not have been the obvious ones. Can’t help but *SQUINT* at Martin this episode, because:

* We know that Basira and Martin talked about something in MAG178 when Jon was giving his statement, and we don’t know the details of it.

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

(And in the same way: we don’t know for sure what happened to Martin when he ended up wandering off into The Web’s domain in MAG172. Did he tell Jon the whole story about it? Or did something happen that he managed to hide?)

* Last few episodes have been extremely insistent in reminding us that Jon is making active efforts to not look into Basira’s and Martin’s heads at all:

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself.

(MAG179) BASIRA: I am. [BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN] Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? […] BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

* Martin was mostly fine about the concept of betraying the trust of someone you like and care for, as long as it’s in ~their best interest~:

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I don’t like betraying someone’s trust like this. MARTIN: It’s not a betrayal if you’re doing it to help. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m not so sure…! MARTIN: Look, if it was me in her shoes, I’m sure I’d forgive you. It–it’s for the best!

* Jon’s joke about “Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!” (MAG167) when Martin asked him not to look inside his head… reminds me of the way the gang managed to convince Elias that it was in his best interest for Martin not to come along to the Unknowing, in MAG116: Martin’s offense and protests were staged in order to make it pass as innocuous that he would stay behind at the Institute; Jon asked for Martin to stay, but they needed Elias to feel like it was partly his own decision, hence Martin’s protests. Back then, we didn’t know that Elias had made a bet with Peter (so it’s unclear whether he was factoring in Jon potentially dying and his need for a back-up, or if it was mostly motivated by the fact that Martin had to stay alive in order to set up Jon’s Lonely mark), but the situation still is very reminiscent of the end of MAG179: character A makes a decision, Martin protests and tries to argue, until character B steps in to validate A and Martin has to agree with the others… about something that was A’s and his plan from the start. It’s basically Martin’s modus operandi, that he also used to make Elias focus in him in MAG118 (spilling his frustrations and pains) and to keep Peter’s attention on him during season 4 (genuinely wanting to stop The Extinction, being susceptible to The Lonely, but not wanting to serve Peter’s plans). Always mixing his genuine feelings in with some deception, to hide his endgame intentions.

… So what if, in the same way, Basira&Martin’s little opposition here had been staged because they needed Basira to be out of Jon’s radar for a while, and for Jon to feel like that was natural…?

(Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t believe that Martin is secretly evil or working against Jon; if Martin is currently plotting something, I really think it would because he needs Jon to not know about it (because of Jon’s status as the lynchpin of the apocalypse and The Eye’s favourite), and/or because it will require Martin to take risks and he knows that Jon would protest that. Overall, it’s surprising that, for now, Martin doesn’t explicitly have a plan – he’s been following Jon and seems to be focusing all his hopes on the Panopticon – while he used to be planning and scheming so easily before. So what if there was actually something currently in progress, in the blind spot of Jon’s vision and near-omniscience…?))

- Anyway, the points that Jon is not looking into Basira’s nor Martin’s heads, that he is distracted when talking with someone or giving a statement (… really reminiscent of Basira in season 3 explaining how Elias wasn’t able to focus on anyone and anything else when using his powers to traumatise Melanie, uh…), and that he can assume things that end up working out differently (so can think erroneously as long as he hasn’t thought to Know about it and asked the good questions to his pool of knowledge)… definitely feel like something about this is going to come back to bite them in the ass later. ;;

I have HIGH HOPES for EMOTIONAL PAIN with MAG180’s title! =D I’m thinking about grief and mourning – could be the occasion to get an episode a bit like MAG167, Jon “giving the statement” of people from before the Change? Maybe not even solely about Daisy, but about all the assistants&friends (Sasha, Tim, Gerry, Daisy) they have lost since signing up for the Archives? Or Jon and Martin thinking about the kind of internal/emotional/psychological journey they have to accomplish in order to reach the Panopticon, whether or not there is something preventing them from reaching it, in the same way that Basira had to face Daisy’s crimes and “see the monster” to be able to catch up to her?

If there is a domain: Vast and Buried could work in a very physical sense, End could fit too…

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag179 #tma season 5 #the magnus archives #tma liveblog #long post/#tma spoilers/

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keelywolfe · 4 years

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FIC: Some Sense of Normalcy ch.3 (baon)

Summary: It’s Edge’s first day back to work at the Embassy, but his job isn’t the only thing on his mind.

Tags: Spicyhoney, Kustard, Established Relationships, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Mentions of Past Injury

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 |

~~*~~

Part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Read Chapter 3 on AO3

Read it here!

~~*~~

Stretch was only two steps out of the elevator and already he could taste his own sweat heavy on the back of his tongue. It was fine, no big deal, it was only a bunch of equipment, right? The harsh gleam of the overhead fluorescent lights on stainless steel shouldn’t be that damn upsetting, it shouldn’t.

Shoulda woulda coulda, and fuck it all, because it damn well was, and the bitch of it was that Stretch wasn’t even sure why.

He started to turn around. Not to get back into the elevator, no, he wasn’t peacing out. Only to breathe for a minute, use those hard-learned tactics for controlling an incipient panic attack that Doc Lee spent the past year trying to pound into his hard skull. She hadn’t said it in so many words, but Stretch got the idea that they’d all been thoroughly tested already on Sans.

Close his sockets, focus on breathing deeply through his mouth. In for four, hold it, out for four. He was supposed to be so damned good at math, he could manage that much.

What felt like a hard, rubbery fist clenched in his chest was starting to ease when he heard someone calling his name.

“Stretch!” He turned to see Alphys almost scurrying up and her smile was warm enough despite the trifle of worry in her eyes.

Yeah, okay, better to keep her worries on the right path. Stretch hung on a 100-watt smile and beamed it right her way, “hey, lizard lady, how’s it going? i didn’t even have a chance to ring the bell.”

She held up her phone. “I g-get an alert when certain k-keycards are used in the elevator. C-come on, come to my office.”

Going to her office sounded like a super plan.

Stretch followed after her as she led a path through the maze of metal tables and equipment, the other scientists in their long white coats. He knew the way to her office, but it was easier to focus on the long yellow tail poking out of the back of her lab coat, concentrate on keeping that breathing nice and even.

Alphys wasn’t always the most observant person out there when it came to social cues, but she sure as hell understood anxiety. She knew he wasn’t keen on the labs. Not from anything Stretch said, not fucking likely, but he was pretty sure Ass-gore had a top-secret file on him somewhere with a nice long list of his skills sets and another one of his phobias. He kinda thought the skill list was longer, not enough to bet on it. He hoped whatever pictures they stuck in it caught his good side, namely his ass.

The second Stretch was through the office door, Alphys closed it, shutting out all the bustling sounds and reflections, and the relief of it being out of sight, out of mind, made Stretch let out an explosive sigh.

Alphys gave him a nervous smile as she gathered a stack of folders out of the guest chair. “So-sorry about the mess.”

On her desk, bookshelves, and even the chairs were cluttered piles of papers and diagrams, surrounded her computer monitors like flimsy skyscrapers, the bright corners of manga books poking out from random levels, and empty coffee mugs standing around like statues.

There were toys, too, statues and plushies both, one that looked distinctly like smiling piece of poo, another of dragon, curled around one of the coffee mugs. On her desk was a figure from ‘Mew Mew Kissy Cutie’ and that gave Stretch a little pang to see.

Back home, (no not home, not for a long time now) it was ‘Bow Wow Smootchie Beauty’, the main character an anime girl with adorably floppy ears. For the first time in longer than Stretch could remember, a longing twinge for Undyne rose up in him. Not this world’s Undyne, his Undyne, and he hated phrasing it that way, but he couldn’t think of something better.

He and Undyne hadn’t been besties, but they’d still been friends. Close enough that he’d gone to her place a few times to hang out, watch anime, and chatter on about the episodes and what was the best kind of cup noodles. So many words tossed back and forth about nothing at all. So long as they stayed in her rooms and out of the lab proper, it didn’t bother him, and Undyne never brought up her work, even when it was kinda obvious she wanted to.

That wistful look started showing up more and more, and Stretch stopped going even before everything went to shit in Underswap. There was something for his regret bucket. That he hadn’t taken the time to keep up his end of the bargain, hadn’t invited her over to his place for some movie viewing and yeah, she hated Snowdin, but he hated Hotland, so it was a fair trade. What wasn’t fair was knowing that if he’d been in Underswap, he would’ve gone to Undyne about this problem, without ever letting her talk about her work. Watched her nervously rub her hands together, half her face obscured by her long hair, hiding behind that curtain.

Stretch blinked hard, tearing his gaze away from the little figure and focused back to Alphys’s concerned face. Underswap was a long time ago and he needed to keep the count his of personal issues to one hand, thanks.

“hey, so thanks for meeting with me,” Stretch said. He plunked down into the chair while Alphys sat at the one at her desk, specially designed to allow for her tail. He didn’t bother resisting the urge to reach for his lighter, letting the rhythm of weaving it through his fingers soothe him.

“No problem,” Alphys said, “we got off c-course with t-tracking your HP. Is it t-troubling you again?”

“let me get straight to the meat of it,” Stretch said, “i want you to run another scan on my hp, then you can tell me.”

She nodded. “Have you been h-having any symptoms?”

“i’ve been really tired lately, run down,” Stretch admitted, “i take a nap and i wake up still tired. i can fall asleep anywhere.”

Alphys hummed thoughtfully, “S-sounds like Undyne r-right now.” She gave him an unexpectedly teasing look, "Are you s-sure you aren't p-p-pregnant, too?"

"har, har, al." Stretch about sprained an eye light rolling them as hard as he could. “unless i grew some unexpected equipment, there won’t be any knocked up at my door.”

"Well, in theory, s-soul mating c-could result in the c-creation of a souling, there were experiments—"

"in theory, sure,” Stretch interrupted, unreasonably annoyed; he didn’t want to talk about experiments, thanks. “but that requires rubbing two souls together long enough to make a fire. since edge and i stick with rubbing pelvises, i'm going with not." Stretch shuddered; just the thought of it was nightmare fuel. "sorry, preggies is okay for people who want it, but i'd rather donate a femur to the cause.”

"I th-think I wouldn't have m-minded," Alphys said, shyly. "But Undyne has better HP than me, so we d-decided she should be the one to c-carry the baby.”

Even talking about this was making him a little uncomfortable, but Al had the look of someone who wanted to talk, maybe needed to. She was doing him the favor, here, the least he could do was listen. Probably Al didn’t get to talk about it much, since she wasn’t the one with the bump.

The memory of his Undyne made him push aside his discomfort. Stretch forced a chuckle and said, "heh, if that's the deciding vote, then if we were gonna baby it up, Edge would be the pregnant one."

"He would have very f-fashionable maternity clothes. He and Undyne c-could bond over prenatal yoga." Alphys looked at him curiously, rocking back in her office chair, “P-pardon me for asking, but are you t-two looking for a surrogate, then?”

“fuck, no!” Stretch blurted. Yeah, that might have been a little excessive, Alphys winced, cringing into herself. Stretch tied on his smile again, “sorry, sorry, that was rude.”

Alphys shook her head, and her words were gentle and nonjudgmental, “N-not at all, it’s a p-p-private decision, I shouldn’t have p-pressed.”

Probably not. He and Al weren't specifically close, as friends or anything else, so Stretch wasn't sure why his stupid mouth chose to add, "i really don’t want kids and edge…i mean. he says he’s fine with it.”

If Alphys was surprised to hear him toss out that conversational gambit, it didn’t show. She only leaned in, her eyes kind behind her glasses, “You d-don’t believe him?”

Wasn’t that the ten-dollar question? Stretch really wished he was sure about the answer. He wanted to believe Edge, maybe Edge even believed himself, tried to, anyway. Stretch looked down, away from Alphys’s gaze, and said in a small voice. “i don’t know.”

“Hm.” Alphys stood and waddled over to stand next to him. Even sitting, he had to look down at her as she settled a clawed hand on his shoulder, “I really want this baby,” she said, clearly, “But I th-think if Undyne d-didn’t want to have kids, I’d be okay w-with that.”

There was enough quiet sincerity in that to make him swallow hard against a knot settling in the back of his throat. “yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alphys smiled, a loving, brilliant smile meant for someone else, someone tall and brash, with a lot of red hair. Not his Undyne, but hers. “I f-fell in love with her, n-not her DNA,” Alphys said, firmly. “Although she does have very n-nice DNA. So maybe you should b-believe him.”

Stretch offered her a smile of his own, one that felt a little wobbly, but hey, it was there. Look at him, communicating back and forth like a grown up and all. Doc Lee would be so proud. “thanks al. congrats by the way. how are undyne and the bump?"

"Impatient," Alphys sighed deeply, and wasn't there chapters of meaning in that one word.

“know much about the sprog yet?” Stretch teased and it felt okay. “gonna be twins? tadpoles?”

She giggled and shook her head. “N-no, the ultrasound is showing one baby. She’s d-due anytime now, it can be d-difficult to gauge with mixed Monster species.”

The scientist in him was a little curious about that; he’d gone for physics over biology. He wondered who they’d gone with for the dad juice, but he wasn’t the kind of asshole who would ask.

“i do like kids,” Stretch admitted, “i just don’t want part ownership with one. bet edge would like to babysit.”

She hummed thoughtfully, “B-be careful with that offer, I’m s-sure we’ll take you up on it. Now, we’ve g-gotten off-topic.”

Stretch winced. “yeah, sorry, sorry, i know you’re busy.”

“Not so busy that I can’t h-help,” Alphys countered. She turned around to scrabble through the clutter on her desk, came back with a notepad and a pencil. The tip of the pencil hovered over the paper, ready to write, “Now, you’ve been t-tired. What are you getting when you run a Ch-check?”

Of course she’d ask that, it made sense, it was the very first thing to be done to see a Monster’s stats. Quick, painless, and loaded with info, and Stretch didn’t really have a good reason for not doing one already, past ‘don’t wanna’.

Time to face the tunes. “i haven’t run one,” Stretch admitted quietly, “i know, i know, i’m wasting your time--”

“Hm? No, I don’t think so,” Alphys scribbled something down on the notepad. “Anything else out of the o-ordinary?”

“i thought about it and the only thing i can think of is i’ve been doing a lot healing lately, more than usual.” He didn’t say why and Alphys didn’t ask. “a lot of shit’s been going down. honestly, i don’t even know if something is wrong, but if there is, i wanted to get a leg over on it, get checked over before anything worse crops up.”

“You’re t-tall enough to get a leg right up over my h-head,” Alphys said, and the gentle tease soothed. Right up until Alphys set aside the notepad and picked up a tablet with a pair of electrodes dangling from it. “Right then, l-let’s run some t-tests. Can you summon your soul?”

Fuck, he hated this part. Or maybe hated was too strong a word. It wasn’t that bad, really, Stretch was used to a certain clinical touch on his soul from time to time, he got sick too often not to be. Used to the feel of gloved hands holding it steady to slip in an IV needle, or to attach leads, or to take a minuscule sample to study under a microscope, checking for what kind of germ hooked its wagon to his personal shining star this time. He was pretty numb to the whole ordeal at this point.

If he were honest with himself, and hey, sometimes he was, it hadn’t felt quite so invasive until he’d let Edge go hands-on with it. No one else had ever cradled his soul in a gentle hand, gazed at the silvery light that poured out of it with adoration. Sure as hell no one else had ever seen it during sex, rubbed a careful, bare thumb across its smooth surface and dragged such toe-curling pleasure out of him he’d damn near fainted from it.

Yeah, it was hard to sit back down in the waiting room once you got a glimpse of paradise.

He summoned up his soul, and didn’t watch as Alphys went to work. She was professional and gentle, hooking up the leads with barely even a pinch. She tapped the tablet and almost instantly, her expression changed into something... complicated. Um. That didn’t seem good. “what?”

“Oh, it’s n-nothing, let me--”

“it’s not nothing, you look like someone gave you a pinch on the ass. what is it?”

“It’s n-nothing bad,” Alphys corrected. “L-let me finish first, hasty c-conclusions lead to bad r-results.”

True enough but that was easier to deal with when it came to his experiments on growing better yielding plants through hydroponics, not so much when it was his soul on the line.

He waited impatiently while she poked at the tablet and managed to give her all of three minutes before bursting out, “okay, so what’s going on?”

“See for y-yourself.”

She held out the table and on it was a screen was a visual display of all his stats, from his soul pulse (running too fast) to his defense (sitting at its normal too-low), to his HP, displayed down to the tiniest decimal.

His HP, which had been slowly ticking upward for the past few weeks, was still doing it. Only now it was above five, closer to 5.3453367883. The last three crawled upward as he stared, turning to a unaccusing four.

“it’s going up,” Stretch said blankly. Way to state the obvious, there. His mind wasn’t calculating anything past that, nothing beyond his initial shock. He’d been expecting bad news, braced to hear the worst, and this was the exact opposite. It was like a trash bag breaking open to reveal piñata candy inside.

“Y-yes!” Alphys said happily. She tapped a clawed finger on the tablet screen. “It’s s-still going at the same r-rate as before, only it’s traveled p-past your base HP!”

“but…why?” Pointless question, what did it matter so long as it was going up, but Stretch didn’t like mysteries, not on television and not in life. He liked answers.

“That’s harder to d-determine,” Alphys admitted. “You d-did say you’ve been getting more rest lately, but th-that usually causes a one-time boost, n-not a cumulative effect. You said you’ve been using your m-magic a lot m-more, yes?”

“yeah, more than i usually do around the house.”

“M-maybe you should keep that up.” She snatched up the notepad and started scribbling furiously, leaving Stretch to gingerly remove the leads himself and allow his soul fade back into his chest. “T-take more shortcuts, practice a few a-attacks. We aren’t meant to hoard our m-magic in our souls, we need to l-let it out, k-keep it from going stagnant.”

“i guess i could.” Shortcuts, anyway, Stretch wasn’t really keen on making any sort of attack, not even for the magic drain, thanks.

“I think you should t-t-try it,” Alphys said decisively, “For th-this week, work on using your m-magic more than usual, then come back and we’ll r-run another test. It’s worth investigating.” She paused. “Of course, there is a-another possibility.”

“what?”

Her smile was a little tremulous, “M-monster souls response well to h-happiness.”

Before Stretch could say anything to that, his phone rang, showing an incoming call from the main source of his current happiness.

Fuck, he’d told Edge to call on his lunch.

He held up a shushing finger to his mouth and Alphys nodded, even as he swiped to answer it, “babe! i was just thinking about you—”

“I hope they were kind thoughts and not nefarious plans.” Just the sound of his voice was soothing, the soft underlying humor wrapped around his concern, “How are you feeling?”

Too much enthusiasm was going to set off alarm bells, so Stretch settled for, “better, i think. more myself, anyway.”

“That’s wonderful to hear, love,” Edge said warmly. “Then if you’re feeling better, perhaps you’d like to come upstairs to my office and have lunch with me?

Welp, so much for secrets. He should have known better to even try at the Embassy. If the spy gear didn’t get you, the gossips sure did. “who tattled.”

“I’m afraid I can’t reveal my source.”

Yeah, about the only person that took out of the running was Andy, and only because he’d promised not to tell. “yeah, i’ll be up in a mo’.”

“Wait,” Came unexpectedly from Alphys. “C-could you ask Edge to c-come down here? For a few m-moments?”

“um, sure, al,” Stretch said slowly and all his relief about his HP started to curdle until she hastily spoke up again.

“It’s n-not about you. O-or it is, but n-not in that way, it’s n-nothing bad, only an experiment I’m doing. I c-could use both your help.”

That didn’t sound at all ominous or anything, did it. But he owed a favor and Stretch did like to pay off his tabs. Eventually.

“babe, can you come down to the labs, to alphys’s office?” Stretch said into the phone. “she says it’s nothing bad.”

“Of course,” Edge replied, surprised, “I’ll be down in ten minutes.” The call disconnected and left him alone again with Alphys for ten long minutes, ten minutes that he didn’t really want to discuss experiments in until Edge was here. He could give Alphys that much, more than he’d ever given his Undyne.

But only when Edge was here, that was the thing and it was okay; Edge might be the one with all the strategy, but Stretch had a trick or two up his sleeve, too.

“did you see the last mew mew kissy cutie holiday special?”

Alphys brightened visibly and took the bait, babbling her way excitedly into his trap. Stretch settled back into his chair to listen, for at least ten minutes, but his wandering thoughts were more on his HP and that slow upward tick.

~~*~~

tbc

#spicyhoney #papcest #keelywolfe #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus #underswap papyrus #by any other name

36 notes · View notes

glorious-blackout · 3 years

Text

Self-Indulgent Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino/Simulation Theory Crossover Part Six

@rock-n-roll-fantasy I should probably warn you that I am definitely back on my angst-junkie bullshit with this one, but I promise there’s more to come after this! 😅 Not sure when I’ll be able to post the next parts but hopefully you enjoy these two in the meantime 😊

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five

********************************

There’s something wrong with the Earth.

This isn’t necessarily a surprise. In the week since the quake that never was, the entire world has felt off; tilted on its axis to such a degree that Alex can’t even begin to fix it. The details of the hotel feel muted, the life slowly draining from his surroundings as empty husks are left in the wake of an unseen angel of death. Once pristine white walls look faded and beige beneath flickering lights. The usual buzz of activity emanating throughout scattered hotel rooms has quietened, as though a volume dial has been turned all the way down. Portraits which once hung proudly along the reception walls have tilted, and if Alex studies them closely enough, he can see the colours smudging as the paint melts, removing all nuance in the process. At this point it wouldn’t surprise him to find cracks creeping along the marble columns or dying lilies curling over themselves in neglected pots, although he supposes it’ll only be a matter of time before that sight greets him as well.

It’s not just the hotel itself which has fallen prey to this lack of vitality. The guests have never been particularly fascinating company, but now they appear virtually soulless. Their numbers dwindle with each passing day despite no clear evidence of rockets carrying them towards home, and when scattered patrons do reveal themselves, Alex ends up eavesdropping on the same mundane conversations over and over again. Staff members offer the same monotonous greetings to him regardless of any attempts to lure them into conversation. Even Andrew, who can be quite amenable to a casual conversation over a pint, has little more to offer besides, “How are you enjoying your drink, sir?” when Alex forcibly drags himself to the bar.

On the one occasion where he agrees to play a show, he finds himself gazing at a placid, unmoving crowd who deign to make as little noise as possible. There are no cheers, no attempts to sing along, no murmurs of approval. Alex doesn’t even have the energy to be startled when he notes that several faces in the crowd have been replaced with expressionless masks, as though an artist has erased their features entirely, leaving only a discoloured smudge in their wake.

The world appears to be winding down, crumbling at the seams with no end in sight. And to top it all off, he’s the only person alive who seems to have noticed.

Even his weekly meetings with Murphy have halted without explanation. He’ll sit by the computer for hours on end, waiting for the dreaded ringing to invade his eardrums, but it never does. For the first time in his life, Alex would give anything to face that man and give him a piece of his mind, but God doesn’t appear to be answering his calls right now.

And then there’s Jamie.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?”

Alex doesn’t pay him any heed, choosing instead to keep his gaze fixed on the alluring form of Earth above him. He cannot bear to look at Jamie right now; not when doing so will only unveil a lifeless expression marring his friend’s once kind face. He only wishes the man would say something – anything – else. It appears to be lost on Jamie that he’s uttered the same sentence three times in the last fifteen minutes, having said little else since drawing up beside Alex on the balcony. The fact that he never receives an answer doesn’t register with him either. He simply keeps asking, like a children’s toy with only one voice-clip, not realising that every time he asks, he only succeeds in adding a further crack to Alex’s thoroughly abused heart.

Nick and Matt have fared little better. Playing a show with them the other night had been akin to playing with three ghosts who have yet to leave their bodies. All traces of humour and nuance and love have been stripped from them, leaving empty shells where his best friends once stood.

Or rather, where convincing replicas of his friends once stood. Alex can’t pretend to understand how this version of reality works, and he’s still struggling to separate the splintered fragments of Mark’s false memories from his own recollections. The Jamie, Matt and Nick he has been living with are certainly modelled after the people he’s known and loved all his life, but there are enough subtle differences to make him question if they were ever real in the first place. The most glaring marker of all being the fact that when he’d insisted they call him Alex, the only response had been a lack of recognition which had almost broken him.

The only person who has ever referred to him as Alex in all the time he’s been here is Matthew, but even as his mad theories have become more and more plausible, the man himself has remained infuriatingly elusive.

At least Alex knows why he seemed so familiar now. They’d only crossed paths occasionally in the past, exchanging pleasantries and compliments at various awards shows and festivals, but given their similar positions it would be impossible for him not to be familiar with a certain Matthew Bellamy. The man has always been more of a friend-of-a-friend to Alex than a proper acquaintance, but he likes him well enough to believe that Matt’s apparent fondness for him was also genuine. Granted, he doubts he’d ever have pictured the man as a planet-hopping outlaw, but then again, he imagines Matt must have been equally surprised to find him acting as the owner of a four-star establishment on the moon.

A disbelieving giggle erupts from him before he can stop it. He’s been doing that a lot lately. No doubt it’s an unconscious coping mechanism his brain has concocted while processing the impossible situation he’s stumbled into; he supposes his only options at this point are to laugh or sob like a child.

Pointedly ignoring Jamie’s lingering presence, Alex lets the Earth consume his attention once more. She’s as beautiful now as she always has been – her deep shades of greens and blues vibrant against a dense black sky – but that only adds to the sense of wrongness tugging at his heart. He shouldn’t even be capable of standing here, gazing towards home from this angle. Surely without proper protection and oxygen tanks, the air should have been sucked from his lungs and he should be gliding across the ground rather than standing still. Is there a force-field surrounding them, providing them with breathable air and simulated Earth-like gravity? If he concentrates hard enough, will he be able to spot the tell-tale shimmer of a shield embracing his tiny civilisation?

How odd that he’s never questioned such technicalities before.

As for the Earth itself, the more he studies it, the more it looks like someone has merely devised a painting of her against an endless black canvas, basing their work on ancient photographs from age-old Apollo missions. The image is too perfect. Too still and unaffected; a close approximation of how Earth must have appeared millions of years ago, before her surface was warped by humanity’s influence. The more he remembers of his final days on Earth, the less the image before him aligns with the truth. The clouds hovering beneath the atmosphere shouldn’t be a perfect white, they should be blackened by thick smoke. Those vibrant greens should have been burnt away to smouldering brown, as ash falls thick and heavy over once beautiful landscapes. No doubt even the oceans must have turned a grim, murky grey by now, rather than the striking blues he gazes upon now.

Alex gasps as a memory emerges unbidden, hands desperately grasping the balcony railing. These episodes have been coming thick and fast of late, and it takes all of his willpower not to collapse as faint echoes of screams pierce his ears and the foul taste of ash smothers his tastebuds.

He lets the memory carry him away, however, for he knows that stewing in his own ignorance is no longer an option he can indulge in.

The air is thick with acrid smoke as ash gathers on his tongue with every breath. His eyes draw upwards towards a tangerine sky; the sun obscured by thick smog which he can feel clogging his lungs, leaving him lightheaded and weak. Only hours ago the advice had been to stay inside, but the sirens now piercing his eardrums signal a change, and he knows with unexplainable certainty that if he’d stayed behind, he would have been consumed by the flames which lick their way across the landscape without mercy.

He doesn’t recall the events leading up to this moment, try as he might. Can’t recall if he’d been at home, or in the studio, or trapped within the confines of a hotel halfway around the world. The only instinctual memory he retains is that the catastrophe had crept up on them without warning, announcing itself with all the subtlety of an air-raid siren shooting panic into the veins of every human being on Earth. Only it hadn’t been sudden, had it? Not really. Humanity at large had known for years that the world was destined to burn unless something was done to stop it, but the warnings had been largely ignored, right up until the moment the fire was breathing down everyone’s necks.

The crowd surrounding him is desperate and he whimpers as countless bodies shove against him. No doubt he could remain perfectly rigid and yet still find himself pushed forwards by the sheer force of the human wave. The claustrophobia is suffocating, and breathing provides little relief when the air is as poisoned as it is. He can feel his chest heaving and the constant shouts and screams are momentarily drowned out by his pulse pounding a steady rhythm in his ears, and he clings tightly to the hand wrapped securely around his own as he’s guided along the wide street by a steady anchor. He doesn’t need to look to know instinctively whose hand it belongs to. The calming influence as his guide squeezes back and pulls him in closer is unmistakable. He presses himself against the other man’s body as the cacophony is quickly drowned out by gentle reassurances of, “We’re okay Al, just stay close yeah? We’re nearly there, just a little bit further, you’re doing great...”

He must look a state to warrant such a commentary, but he cannot bring himself to care. As he allows himself to narrow his focus entirely onto that soft voice, he can feel his heartrate slowing and his rapid breathing starting to ease. He feels - rather than sees - a worried face turning in his direction, ensuring that he’s still locked in the present rather than lost in the grasp of his panicked mind, and he gives a shaky nod to indicate that he’s okay. The world is burning and there’s no guarantee that safety is as close as his friend insists it is, but he’s not alone and the flames are still far behind him, so for now he’s okay. His hand is caught in another gentle squeeze - it occurs to him that the action might be for the other’s benefit as much as it is his - and they push onwards as best they can through the hulking mass of bodies surrounding them.

There’s a scuffle behind him as someone utters a sharp cry. Perhaps the constant shoving of bodies has finally erupted into a full-blown fight; either that or someone has merely lost their balance and fallen to the ground. Either way it spells the end for him. A desperate hand clings to Alex’s forearm for support and he feels himself being jerked backwards, struggling to maintain his grip on the precious fingers clutching his hand as faceless bodies try to pull him away. Panic seizes his throat, tightening his airway to the point where he cannot so much as scream. As the force of the disorganised crowd pulls him backwards, the people in front keep advancing, still trying to escape the flames and the thick, cloying smog. Concerned brown eyes turn to look at him, having sensed his distress in the crushing grip of his hand, and Alex can only watch those eyes widen with naked fear as their owner is pulled in the opposite direction.

Those pivotal seconds seem endless when replayed in Alex’s mind. The image repeats itself like a broken VHS tape - an unending loop of terror - but it must have taken no time at all for their connection to be severed with surgical precision. He remembers panicked, animalistic screams escaping his throat as he fought and clawed at the terrified masses surrounding him, his hand suddenly grasping nothing but air. He remembers the crowd in front pushing onwards, with one man among their ranks fighting tirelessly to stay behind, screaming Alex’s name over and over to the point where it must surely have torn his throat.

Neither of their efforts work. Their hands never meet again, and Alex can only watch as his salvation is carried off like a life-raft on the ocean, leaving him behind to drown on his sinking ship. And even above the distant sirens and the roar of nearby flames, the frantic, hopeless scream of “Alex!” continues to ring in his ears long after his would-be savior has vanished from sight.

“-ark?”

The crowded street blanketed in a thick, ashen haze vanishes from his mind’s eye and he blinks as Jamie’s voice pulls him back to the present. It takes a moment to fully reorientate himself, even as his eyes settle upon the pleasant mirage of Earth hanging above them. The air still feels unclean and the thick, cloying taste of ash still resides on his tongue. His throat still screams from the frantic cries that had been torn from it and his chest aches with the effort of breathing in filthy smog. His hand feels cold and empty, still grasping nothing but air in the place of warm flesh, and an overpowering sense of loss washes over him like a painful echo. If Jamie notices his distress, he makes no mention of it. His face is as blank and expressionless as it has been since his world became muted, and Alex thinks he would give his right hand in exchange for five minutes of his friend’s smothering concern.

“Where’s Miles?” he croaks out eventually, turning to face Jamie with a damning sense of dread. Part of him suspects that he already knows what the reaction will be and he longs to tear his eyes away in order to spare himself the pain, but he has to look. He needs this final grain of proof.

Jamie barely reacts to the words despite the fact that they’ve come out of nowhere. The only reason Alex even registers the minute furrow of his brow and downwards tug of his lips is because he knows that face better than he knows his own, and even then, the impassive blankness is back within mere seconds.

“Who’s Miles?”

Alex can’t look at him anymore. If he forces himself to look at that emotionless face then he knows his heart will crumble to dust and he’ll never be able to piece it back together. His eyes are drawn skyward and he keeps them there, unblinking, even when the growing sting becomes unbearable. His vision blurs with unshed tears and his chest shudders fitfully with the effort it takes not to break into animalistic sobs, but he forces himself to swallow down his grief before it can consume him. The pain is unbearable. It creeps over his mind like a specter, dragging its scythe wherever it goes without a care for the damage it leaves in its wake. The temptation to laugh as he realises that this has been the reason for his pervading sense of loneliness all along almost overwhelms him. Perhaps that would get a reaction out of the hollow shell that has taken Jamie’s place.

In the end, however, he doesn’t have the energy to make the slightest sound.

Because it’s not just Miles he’s grieving. The Jamie he knows and loves would never have let those two words leave his mouth. He would never stand idly by while Alex falls apart, visibly struggling to piece himself back together despite knowing that his efforts are completely worthless. The Jamie he knows would have pulled him in for a hug and let him sob his heart out without judgement, before gently telling him to tidy himself up so they can go out to thoroughly drown their sorrows. No doubt the Jamie standing beside him now has always been nothing more than a façade; expertly written code and little else. The same applies to Nick and Matt and every other human being he’s interacted with since stepping foot on this godforsaken rock, perhaps with the exception of Matthew. They’d been rather convincing replicas, he’s loath to admit, but that’s all they’ve ever been.

“Doesn’t matter,” he forces out in a choked whisper, in the full knowledge that that couldn’t be further from the truth.

He wonders if his real friends are still out there somewhere. Did they make it to safety while Alex was left behind and imprisoned within this lie? Have they been searching for him all this time, while he allowed his mind to be manipulated to the point where he forgot they existed? Are they mourning for him with the same all-consuming grief he finds himself overwhelmed by now?

Or are they simply ghosts, lost long ago to a world that has become uninhabitable? Perhaps they’re even trapped in the same boat he is; so wrapped up in the blissful ignorance of a beautiful lie that they cannot remember their own names.

“Is it better to exist within a terrible reality or a beautiful lie?”

He recalls Matthew’s burning question with a new sense of clarity. Because it hadn’t been hypothetical had it? Matthew had uncovered their circumstances long before Alex had. In his own infuriating way, Matt had been trying to prepare Alex for the conundrum he would be forced to contend with once the curtain rose. Their entire conversation had been a warning, planting seeds in his head that would eventually result in his world collapsing at the seams.

Had Matt also been crippled by an overwhelming sense of loss prior to stumbling into Alex’s makeshift life? Alex searches his mind for any random details he knows about Matthew Bellamy, but he cannot recall anything with great certainty. Miles had known him much better than Alex had; he vaguely remembers throw-away mentions of a wedding and a new baby, but nothing more concrete than that. For all he knows, Matthew is currently battling his way through an endless, synthetic maze to crawl back to the arms of the people he loves, or at the very least to be reunited with versions of his bandmates who haven’t been programmed to hunt him down and kill him.

“Are you coming down to rehearsals then?” Jamie asks once again, uncaring and toneless, as though trapped in an unending loop.

A huff of laughter escapes Alex’s mouth before he can stop it, and he bows his head as a tear finally slips from the corner of his eye. Rehearsals and playing live was once his only solace amongst the mundane goings-on of his daily life, but now the thought of facing the replicas of his friends and seeing them stripped of all personality is unbearable. Normality is nothing but a distant dream. There is no returning to the life that had been carefully carved out for him here regardless of what Jamie seems to think, and as the details of the hotel slowly fade around him, he doubts there’ll even be a crowd to play for by the time evening rolls around.

Jamie seems utterly unaffected when Alex finally turns to him, a thousand-yard-stare emanating from deep blue eyes as though Alex is a mere phantom standing in his way. A sense of finality takes hold as Alex stares at his friend, memorising the details of his face with a pang of grief, and he offers a small smile which he knows provides little benefit to either of them.

“You go,” he says, in a flat voice he no longer recognises as his own. “I’ll join you in a bit.”

The lie rolls surprisingly easily off his tongue, and despite giving no indication that he intends to follow-through on his promise, Jamie doesn’t question him for an instant. Instead, he simply shrugs before shoving himself away from the barrier and moving in the direction of the hotel. Alex watches his retreating back as he strolls along the cobbled balcony, and it takes all of his willpower not to yell at him to stop. To request a proper farewell, or a hug, or even to run up alongside him and enjoy one last hurrah with the band before everything fades to black.

However, as he watches Jamie vanish behind a set of automatic doors, he knows that running after him would be a mistake. There is no point in embracing the lie anymore. The avatars wearing his friends’ faces like intricate masks no longer have the power to replace the real thing in his heart, and having to reward them with false affection would surely destroy him.

Instead, he bids one final farewell to the Earth above him. For the first time he can remember, the clouds have cleared above the British Isles and he can see the tiny, shrunken form of England resting just above a narrow watery channel. Deep forest greens interspersed with tiny golden pinpricks amongst the well-lit cities are the only details he can make out, but yearning tugs at his heart regardless. He wonders what would happen if he took the initiative and made the trek to the space station now, requesting a ticket for the first flight back to Earth? Would the falsehood adapt around him and expand to include a detailed simulation of his home, from a time when everything was perfect and alive? Or would he simply hit a dead-end and be forever trapped within a tiny radius which encompasses the hotel and casino and little else? He has nothing left to lose by trying, but a nagging suspicion tugging at the back of his mind is enough to inform him what the outcome will be. Whoever designed his current reality didn’t deem Miles of all people to be a necessary addition - no doubt out of intentional cruelty - so the prospect of arriving home and throwing himself into the arms of his mum and dad is surely unthinkable.

It’s impossible to tell how long he spends gazing at the planet above, committing every single detail to memory with a bittersweet smile, but when he finally pulls his eyes away he’s momentarily overcome by a wave of contentment. The yearning for home vanishes and a renewed sense of finality tugs at his heart, only this time he lets himself bask in it. It’s over. The sky above is as much an illusion as everything else within reach, and while he knows he could lose himself staring longingly at the stars like a hopeful child, he finds that he no longer has any desire to do so.

After all, what’s the point in yearning for something that isn’t real?

******************************

Lilting piano notes resound through deserted, crumbling corridors; the echo bouncing off the ballroom walls, causing the delicate glass shards of the chandelier to tremble. All trace of life has vanished, with the exception of the lone musician on his humble stage, playing to a crowd of ghosts.

Alex doesn’t mind. He’d expected to find the hotel empty upon his return – no doubt his mental embrace of that finality had banished all remnants of humanity from its walls – and the uninterrupted stroll to the stage had been an oddly calming one. For the first time in years, a song had popped into his head with little fanfare. There’d been no need to agonise over chords or second-guess lyrics; instead the music had come to him fully formed as though obtained through a dream, and the need to perform it had become his sole objective.

A guitar would have been preferable. He has never felt entirely comfortable on the piano, but the choice seems to have been snatched away from him as all of his stringed instruments have vanished in his absence. Similarly, the lone drumkit and various brass instruments which once rested upon the stage are now missing. Only the piano remains. Each note sounds dissonant beneath his fingers, reverberating through the hall in all directions, and he gets the distinct impression that the instrument hasn’t been turned in years despite it sounding perfect only one week prior. His voice also sounds raw to his ears, but that doesn’t stop him from baring his heart anyway.

It’s a bittersweet song with an emphasis on the sweet, and he latches onto the topics of lost loves and friendships tied up with nostalgia for a golden age that no longer exists. No doubt he would have been proud of this one had he gotten the chance to write and record it on Earth, but at this rate he doubts anyone will hear it besides the ghosts haunting the fractured walls.

That’s okay though. This understated piece of music feels like the only genuine creation he’s produced in all the time he’s lived here, and for that reason alone he’d rather not be singing anything else.

While he refuses to give his surroundings much in the way of scrutiny, it isn’t lost on him that the ballroom is fading away with each passing second. Pristine white walls appear to be melting and cracks trail along the granite columns like lightning bolts stretching to the ceiling. The light from the chandelier is muted, emitting only the faintest golden glow through shards of glass which no longer shimmer, and the deserted dancefloor below has been swallowed whole by drab red carpet. The circular dining tables and bar are cloaked in shadow, their surfaces smothered by a thick layer of dust, and adorning the walls are empty frames where elegant portraits once gazed proudly upon the room.

Only one image remains. A small wooden frame sits on the wall directly within Alex’s eyeline, and though the photograph it displays sends an ache lancing through his heart, he finds it to be a pleasant ache. Captured for eternity is a shot of four young boys, barely out of primary school, with hair cropped short and arms wrapped lazily around each other. One curly-haired lad is looking away from the camera, eyes closed in a mistimed blink, while two others gape at the lens with deliberately widened eyes, baring all of their teeth in exaggerated grins. Only the smallest of the group is smiling in a fashion which can be considered normal, though the crinkling of his large brown eyes implies that he too is mere seconds away from bursting into uncontrollable giggles at his friends’ antics.

Alex can’t remember the photo being taken. The unremarkable brick wall behind them suggests it was taken at his childhood home, but it would not surprise him if the photo itself is yet another falsehood on top of the myriad of illusions he has spent years of his life sleepwalking through. And yet, he cannot bring himself to mind. The photograph may not be real, but the memories of a happy childhood surrounded by friends certainly are, and the sweet nostalgia that warms has heart can never be taken away from him. His real friends may have been lost to him long ago and even the replicas have deserted him now, but so long as he focuses on that image and dedicates this song to them, they can never truly be gone.

A shiver creeps up the back of his neck and he has the distinct impression that a pair of eyes have landed upon him, but he banishes that suspicion before it can take hold. This song is not intended for anyone’s ears but his own. The melody is quickly approaching its coda as he recites the final verse. The piano has grown so soft he barely registers the sound of it, but he carries on with a sense of obligation he doesn’t entirely understand. Perhaps it’s the sense of approaching finality which has made him so determined. His world is fragmenting piece by piece and he cannot comprehend what will happen to him once it fades completely, but he imagines there will be no coming back from it. He should be terrified and desperate, battling with every breath in his lungs to remain solid and whole, but he no longer has the energy to fight. Besides, he has always found contentment in music and performing, even in this godforsaken place. Why fight the inevitable when he can embrace it in peace instead?

The final note sounds abruptly as the last word escapes his lips, but before he can figure out a proper ending, the piano dissolves into atoms beneath his fingertips and the world explodes in a flash of brilliant white, carrying him along with it as his mind goes blank.

#Tranquility Base Hotel and Casino #Simulation Theory #Arctic Monkeys #Muse #my fic #writing

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