bro like. imagine being some random avatar ruling your little domain in the hellscape, having a great time, and you hear rumours that The Archivist is travelling between domains, and you dont know this dude personally but apparently hes been smiting other avatars?? so you picture some giant terrifying figure filled with righteous anger, some great beast of eyes and horror who wont hesitate to kill you. and then he shows up and hes just a kinda tired looking guy playing i spy with his boyfriend. incredible
thinking about… wtgfs as full slaughter/end avatars… in love…
agnesmontague:
time to scream
- GEORGIE APOLOGIZED TO JON FOR ACTING UNFAIRLY………..
- and i love how quickly they are all onboard with how this isn’t really Jon’s Doing per se–the blame falls on exactly whom it should
- this entire ep has extremely potent “adults just trying their best” vibes and i’m here for it
- i love martin+melanie friendship this is my life now this is my entire life now good bye everyone im going under the ground to vegetate
- seriously they’re SO GOOD…. martin asking “do we really know each other though?” bc of what peter said to him in the panopticon… the lonely still has influence on him but he’s still choosing to fight it off, actively make friends, and so is melanie
- i love them all so much
- the admiral being Like That makes me really sad but at least he is happy ;___;
- i also really appreciate the “cult members” each having a different spin on the situation, some are more levelheaded and realistic while others are more starry-eyed as a result of their desperation, and this range of nuances is very good
- i also liked that melanie and georgie walked the fine line of trying to be friendly/bonding with their members and trying to be the leaders that they’re not sure they can be
- i’m just extremely glad the cult isn’t a faceless mass of believers like i’d feared (and a lot smaller than i expected)
- rusty quill said hopepunk rights
- though once again they oppress me personally by not letting jon talk about martin to his friends (let!!! jon!!!! talk!!!!! to!!! georgie!!!! about!!!!! martin!!!!!!!!!!!)
- MARTIN FINALLY GOT TO SIT IN A COMFY CHAIR. BEST ARC IN THE SERIES GOODBYE
vanillaa-sky:
MAG 191 Leaks:
A half-moon glowed on smooth granite boulders, turning them silver. The silence was broken only by the ripple of water from the swift black river and the whisper of trees in the forest beyond.
There was a stirring in the shadows, and from all around lithe dark shapes crept stealthily over the rocks. Unsheathed claws glinted in the moonlight. Wary eyes flashed like amber. And then, as if on a silent signal, the creatures leaped at each other, and suddenly the rocks were alive with wrestling, screeching cats.
At the center of the frenzy of fur and claws, a massive dark tabby pinned a bracken-colored tom to the ground and drew up his head triumphantly. “Oakheart!” the tabby growled. “How dare you hunt in our territory? The Sunningrocks belong to ThunderClan!”
“After tonight, Tigerclaw, this will be just another RiverClan hunting ground!” the bracken-colored tom spat back.
williammatagot:
(read on ao3)
Martin doesn’t know how exactly to mark time underground (not that he knew how to mark time above ground, not in the state the world’s in), so he doesn’t try. It’s not as if it matters much, not now that they’re in the home stretch.
He sleeps when he gets too unsettled watching Jon thrash in and out of unconsciousness with wide-open and long-distant eyes, and he eats when he gets restless and wants a bit of a wander. It’s nice to have a routine that involves something other than endlessly walking, even if it’s not all that exciting.
Cuddling’s nice as well. It was nice at Upton House, but it feels strange to Martin to look back fondly on things he did with Jon that Jon can’t even remember. Almost violating, somehow, like it wasn’t really Jon. Martin knows that’s a stupid, untrue thought–if anything it was more Jon than Martin’s seen him since before everything started its long, steep slide to hell–but he can’t stop it all the same.
Still, nice to have it back. Nice to hold Jon tight against his chest, Jon trapping his arm between his stomach and his legs as he curls up. Martin squeezes the life out of every moment, forcing himself to remember every detail, even the dank walls of the tunnels and the distant scent of mold, because…well, it’s like they talked about. This could be it, so Martin’d better remember it clearly, since–since it could be the last peaceful memory of Jon he ever has left to hang onto.
He’s trying his best to keep himself together. The last thing anyone needs is for him to have a meltdown. If these really are going to be his last memories with Jon, he’s going to do his damndest to keep them as bright as possible under the circumstances.
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