[Audio] @ SuprNerd - open

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[The first few seconds of the recording is just Quentin breathing, fast and shaky at first and just before he speaks, the breathing evens out. The whole speech will be said fast and jerky, like the words are just spilling out without thought.]

What the hell? I can't be the only one who's thinking this, but just what the fucking hell? What the hell just happened? This place, oh shit, this place just-- did any of you see things? Hear things? Fucking feel things? And why? Just, why? I thought we were here to help, to find a way to solve this-- this whole puzzle and suddenly there's something here that made me think I was losing--? That's just-- it was just to fuck with all of us?

What the hell? That's what I want to know - just, what the hell? Is this hell? Is that why?

So, if you're listening to this, lady in the lighthouse? Fuck you! Seriously. Fuck. You.

Also, someone took my hoodie and I need that, so please bring it back. Thanks.

Comments

[webshoots]

[ he ignores the just what?; barely blinks in acnowledgement. instead— ] Je— ez, I said I'd help, so I'll help. I like to keep my word.or at least try.

[ he exhales, audibly, and runs a hand down his face. ironically — is it irony? — beacon's the first time in a long time that he's spent the majority of his time as peter parker. there's no real reason for him to don the suit, to patrol and to find someone to take his frustrations out on. it's — weirdly sobering, and it's made him realise a few things about himself that he'd admittedly already known, but hadn't felt particularly inclined to acknowledge.

spending more time as peter means more time to do the things he says he'll do, more time to be there for the people he says he'll be there for, and it's — it's weird, to not be battling disappointment on account of something he can't admit to. ]

Magic's not the be-all and end-all, Quentin. [ a breath of a pause and a noise that's something between guh and nngh. ] I don't claim to get it, because that's never been my area, but what I have managed to get? Is that there aren't any easy answers here. Magic, science, logic— none of it exists here. Like, why isn't there light? The simplest of things and it doesn't—. [ he huffs. ] It doesn't make any sense. [ but whatever, that's hardly relevant. ] I don't have powers, I don't have special abilities— [ it's amazing, really, how easily the lie rolls off his tongue ] — but trust me, I'm not offended by you reaching out to that first. I would, if I had that kind of thing within easy reach. I'm not offended, and I don't think you were deliberately trying to exclude anyone.

I don't say you're struggling as a, I don't know, condemnation of you, or whatever you think I'm saying. It's not a weakness. Do you know how many times I've messed up in my life? That's rhetorical because the answer's obviously 'no', but it's a lot. It's great that you think I wouldn't be responsible, but unfortunately, I don't live with solely the weight of other people's opinions on my back — and you clearly don't either, otherwise you wouldn't be here. [ the corners of his lips quirk upwards into a wry smile. ] But that aside, you're — I don't want to see anyone here die again. It's not about responsibility, it's about being a normal person. The first time we met, you spoke to me about trust. You know what goes with trust? Community. How can we be that if we don't care about what happens to each other?

[ but whatever. ]

—You've heard the saying, right? About no man being an island? Don't make me break out the trite quotes at you.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

Alright, okay? It's-- it's fine, you just sounded like maybe you wanted a way out and? And that's fine. Whatever. You can-- [Quentin throws his hands up in the air, like - fine. Before shoving them in to his hair again, to tuck at it and try to make it stick behind his ears. It never does. It just falls in to his face half a second after his hands fall to his sides, clenching.]

No, that's-- no. At least where I come from? It's explained pretty much by the gods being dicks? I mean, they made up a lot of crazy shit, just because they were bored or because it was a Tuesday. The air in Fillory is 0,2% Opium. Yup, just being there gets you high and addicted. Which is a dick move all around.

[This isn't Fillory, it's probably not even earth, since the stars are different and the circumstances for the spells keep getting shifted around. Like, the position of the moon or the water, is fluctuating. Or not earth.

Magical theory had always been more Julia's thing than his, but Quentin was good - no, he was fucking brilliant- at the theoretic math involved in getting the spell right, and all of his calculations still fell short.

It was annoying, it was frustrating and it was getting on his last nerve. Just like this whole place was - just an endless puzzle with no solution, all riddles and no answers.

He wipes a hand over his face.]

So, I guess I'm saying, there isn't light because some god didn't want there to be. Because they're an asshole.

Trust? That's-- shit. [Not as an answer, but an exclamation, because these last few days has really showed him that he can't trust anything. Not himself, not his own eyes.] I don't even trust myself all that much right now? And-- and I'm not sure-- but yeah, fine. It's fine. You care and it's-- yeah, it's fine.

So-- so maybe I tie something around my lantern? You can pull it back if. Or, around me? Can you pull me? [Quentin frowns critically at Peter, looking him over. He's tall. Ish. But wiry. More like someone who runs two miles on Saturdays because his girlfriend wants him to, than someone who works out. That might just be the shirts, though, but. He doubts it.

He frowns at Peter a little more.]

That's never going to work. But-- even if I die? If you get my lantern out, I'll be alright? Right? That's what it says. I'll come back. So, it's not really that big of a deal.

[webshoots]

[ or because it was tuesday earns a snort of laughter in spite of himself because honestly? peter can relate, sort of. tuesday for him was being late for work, because of spider-man, missing a date with mj, because of spider-man, and dealing with someone like quentin beck deciding they need to do something grand and grandiose to make themselves feel a little better. someone like the tinkerer deciding to host an alien invasion because humanity is terrible (or something). tuesday is dealing with that and getting home and finding a past due statement for his rent, and having to ask for another advance on his salary if he hasn't been fired for a high number of unexplainable absences and—

none of it's gods. but boy, if only the answer was that simple and that easy here. he doesn't know how many times he's wanted a skulking, behind-the-scenes bad guy to emerge from the very literal shadows and go 'hey, it's me', only with maybe a little more razzmatazz. then there could be a little bit of punching, some jokes, they could all laugh, maybe cry a little bit, and then go home.

but there hasn't been. there hasn't been any of that here: all they've had are questions and mysteries and a whole load of non-answers. it's beyond frustrating, but peter can't believe that's all there is because — what then?

he holds his hands up, attention shifting away from quentin just for a moment. he looks almost sheepish, although there's a quick smile before: ] —Look, I think I'm, like, honour-bound to oppose that thought, because I'm [ he drops a hand and waves it at himself. ] a scientist. [ there's an edge of humour there, like he's not entirely serious, or like he's not entirely sure how serious he should be. ] But between you and me, I'd really love if this was just someone being a dick.

[ but then he catches that frown, the pause, the changed mind, and he manages to sound a little offended, nevermind that it's part of the reason he opts for clothes that are slightly larger in the first place. (puny parker, right?) ] Hey, I'm — stronger than I look. [ he half-heartedly attempts to argue, half-mumbles before appearing to give up on the idea and shrugging a shoulder. (it's not a big deal, huh? peter doubts eliot would agree with that assertion.) ]

—I'm not going to assume that rule always holds true, but it's the closest thing to a constant we've got, so sure. Focus on keeping the lantern safe, and I'll focus on finding either you or it.

[moderatelymaladjusted]

It's always someone being a dick.

[Quentin snorts, waving his hand in the air a little.] It might not be a god every time, because this one time? It was just a guy who-- well, uh. So he had a tough life and bad things happened to him and I guess that fucked him up enough to stop caring. He-- Martin. He choose to do bad things to people, because he was hurt as a kid. But he was still being a huge dick about it. This?

[Gesturing at the world outside the window and the room and Peter and everything.]

This is probably just someone being a dick. To fuck us up or to-- I don't know, maybe punish us? Which is why I need to find a way out. I don't really feel like being fucked by some dick again.

[Okay, so maybe Quentin likes dick metaphors a little too much, but it's just so handy and it works with just about everything. He frowns at Peter, because - dude, you look weak. Not that this is a bad thing, but it's not going to move all of Quentin across a muddy and cold forest floor. Sorry not sorry about pointing that out.]

Okay, so. Wait. You're not sure it works? That I'd come back? Because a pretty big part of plan really hinges on that. I talked to--[He stops, not really ready to rat out Daylight] I talked to someone who said he came back. He just didn't come back right? Or, all the way?

FIVE YEARS LATER SORRY......

[webshoots]

[ peter's expression undergoes a series of changes when quentin just — takes that dick metaphor and runs with it. ]

—Has anyone ever told you you're incredibly illustrative?

[ peter catches the way that quentin catches himself when he says he'd talked to someone. frankly, peter doesn't really care who he talked to — name or not, the outcome's still the same, and it's not as if any of it's some massive secret that needs to be hidden. ]

I know it works sometimes, [ he answers. ] When there was the — incident with the lighthouse and the party, some people got hurt, some people died, some people disappeared. No-one really knows what happened to everyone — the reasonable assumption is that yeah, their lanterns were damaged beyond repair. [ a beat. ] But the bodies weren't found, and does this place strike you as reasonable? [ he half asks: it's not a question, not really, because he's banking on the answer being 'no'. ] But you're not wrong when you say that people don't always come back right.

[ peter pauses, takes a breath and runs a hand through his hair. it's not that it's a hard topic of conversation — truth be told, he barely knew the captain, it's just a lot. ] You were after that, right? The expedition? So you didn't meet the Captain? [ another pause and he glances away from quentin. despite everything, it's hard not to take it personally, hard not to think that he could have done more and maybe the captain and five would still be here.

(although question is, would they have wanted to be?) ] He seemed like a good guy — been through a couple of resets, if I remember correctly. I think he was human, or pretty close to it, but dying and coming back a couple of times meant he started to grow scales along one of his arms. Maybe there was more to it — physical and mental, but the scales were the only visible sign I ever saw.

It's up to you if that's something you want to put your faith in.

Stumbles in way, way later! Sorry!

[moderatelymaladjusted]

[It seems that staying quiet and keeping all the words that crowd around in his head, to himself. At least for now. Because Peter is talking, and it might be important and even if it isn't strictly important to this plan, it might be worth noting for later. For when he comes back, for when he finds the way out and finds a way to get as many people as he can, through it without the lighthouse lady pressing the button to keep them here. Or, to reset them. She hadn't been that clear on it, just that 'some people here seemed familiar'. Which could mean, well, anything and--

and Quentin slips off inside his own head, nodding along because that's what he does, trying to look like he's all there, when most of him is off in the clouds or drowning in the mess that is his broken brain.

But he snaps back with a jerk when Peter starts talking about the failed expedition.]

I came after, yeah. I-- uh, I heard about that? A little? That something went wrong and a lot of people died. And that time, they didn't come back? But--

[Stalling, thinking hard and Quentin frowns down at the map again.]

Yeah, I'm not really good at that? Putting my faith in things? [Lies, because he did it, had done it, so many times, and every time it let him down.] But I'm not going to die.