#heard they have some sort of pen technology that allows it to not have any batteries/cables so it doesnt need to be charged

[sapphirewolf100]

AAAA

[imjustthemechanic]

The Price of a Soul

Part 1/? - Agent Russel Part 2/? - The Letter Part 3/? - Miss Lake Part 4/? - The Stewardess Part 5/? - An Assassination Part 6/? - Fallout Part 7/? - Face to Face Part 8/? - Deals, Details, and Other Devils Part 9/? - Baggage Part 10/? - Private Funding Part 11/? - Just Passing Through Part 12/? - Party of Four Part 13/? - Resolute

Sure enough, something shows up on the sonar.

-

Their final stop before the search could begin was the tiny village of Resolute, which consisted of a few houses huddled around a little sandy bay in the midst of an otherwise breathtakingly inhospitable landscape of craggy rocks and ice.  The beach itself had to serve as a runway for a nail-biting landing in the arctic darkness, but Howard pulled it off with a smile and then got out a sextant.

“I’m gonna double-check our position before we turn in,” he said.

“I’ll get some supper out,” Lake offered.

“You really think we’re going to let you anywhere near our food?” asked Peggy.

“Suit yourself,” Lake said with a shrug.

As it turned out, they did not need to start on their rations.  The town itself was inhabited almost entirely by the local Inuit people, who rarely saw visitors and many of whom did not speak good English, but Peggy could find no fault with their hospitality.  A party of them soon approached the plane to ask if the group were lost and to offer food and warm clothing.  Peggy assured them that she and her companions were quite all right and just passing through – but when she thought of the army rations stowed under the seats of the airplane, she simply couldn’t refuse the offer of a hot meal.

This consisted of flatbread with berries, venison soup, and rhododendron tea served up in one of the little kitchens of the town, while out the north-facing window they could see the green curtain of the aurora borealis moving sinuously across the sky.  Howard spread out a small navigation map on the table, and pointed to their position.

“We’re here, and it looks like Kay’s coordinates are just west of us,” he said.  “We’ll start on the exact spot and go in a spiral outwards.”

Lake nodded and swallowed a mouthful before turning to the house’s owners and asking them a question in what Peggy had to assume was their own language.  There was a surprised reply, and then what sounded like an exchange of pleasantries before the woman pointed to the west and began describing something, using her hands to indicate a thing that had moved across the sky.

Peggy’s heart quickened.  She had no idea what Lake had said, of course… it could be she’d asked this woman to play-act.  It was better not to get her hopes up.  And yet in that moment, for the first time she found herself thinking that maybe, just maybe, Lake was telling the truth.  Maybe the Valkyrie really was out there.  Maybe they really were here to bring America’s lost hero home.  If that happened… would she trust Lake thereafter?  It was hard to say, although she doubted it.

“She says they saw the plane go over and come down in that direction,” Lake translated.  “They didn’t think it had crashed at first, because they didn’t see an explosion, but a hunting party found part of the wing on the rocks a few months later.  A mother polar bear had dug her den underneath it.”

“We’ll have to be careful, then,” said Peggy.  She had no desire to run afoul of any large carnivores.

“A couple of shots will drive it off,” Howard said.  “Or make it into a very nice rug.”

“A conversation piece, to be sure,” Peggy observed.

Their hosts had no spare beds but did offer them extra blankets so they wouldn’t be too cold sleeping on the floor of the plane.  That was just as well, Peggy realized, because otherwise Lake would have had no bedclothes at all.  She looked quite comfortable curled up with her head on her folded coat, and it made Peggy wonder what sort of places she was used to sleeping in.

Halfway through that thought, she realized she was on the verge of feeling sorry for this woman, and quickly quashed it.

In the morning they got up well before it was light and ate a quick breakfast.  Howard buckled himself into the pilot’s seat, Jason took up his position next to the sonar equipment, and Peggy and Lake sat on opposite sides of the plane so that they could watch the landscape on both sides.  A crowd of children from the village turned out to watch the plane take off, and waved as they roared into the air.  Lake smiled out the window and waved back.

Peggy kept her eyes glued to the window as they flew out over the frozen ocean.  On a sunny day, the light reflecting off the miles upon miles of ice and snow would have been blinding.  In the pre-dawn, there was very little to see at all.

“Okay, okay!  We’ve got a reading!” said Jason eagerly.

Lake started to get up, but Peggy held up a hand.  “Don’t you dare,” she said.  “The last thing Howard and Jason need is you carrying tales of their technology back to Russia with you.”

“This isn’t patented yet,” Jason agreed.

Lake seemed to think about it, then reluctantly sat back down again.  Peggy stayed seated, but moved so that she could see the paper unspooling.  Based on the lines his pens were tracing out, it seemed like the top of the ice was quite flat, but the bottom very craggy, and the seafloor beneath gently sloped down.  The black trace suddenly jumped up to above the other two before falling back down again.

“See that?  We just passed another little island,” said Jason.  “This one I think is no more than maybe a hundred yards across.”

Lake pressed her face to the window.  “I don’t… I guess we’re already passed it.”

“You might see it on the way back,” said Jason.  “Or it might be totally buried in snow.  Fresh snow isn’t dense enough to show up.”

They pressed on.

The sun rose slowly, throwing the icescape below into startlingly high relief.  Every rock, every crack, and every stunted bush had its own coal-black shadow stretching away to the west.  Peggy squinted, trying to spot anything that looked artificial, but in this light every shape seemed to have the same unnatural sharp corners.

“Oh, look at that!” said Lake.

“What?” Peggy asked, and then made out a long, snaking crack between ice floes, with shapes moving along it almost like cars on a road.  For a moment Peggy had no idea what it was, but then a shadow showed that they were, in fact, narwhals with their long tusks, using the space as a highway to keep breathing as they headed south.  She wondered where they were going.

The cetaceans were in view for only a few moments before the plane left them behind, and then Peggy heard a dreamy sigh from Lake.

“Unicorns of the sea,” the woman said happily.

Peggy was a bit puzzled.  “You said you’d been here before.”

“Yeah, but I’ve never seen a narwhal,” Lake told her.  “There are so many unspoiled places still left in the world… maybe I’ll get to see some of them.”

“The view isn’t very good from prison,” Peggy replied darkly.

“Hey!” Jason said suddenly.  “Hey, hey, Howard!  Turn around and fly over this area again!”

Peggy turned around to look.  There was a scribble on his polygraph paper, where for just a moment, all three pens had twitched and drawn over each other… just as he’d said they would when encountering a man-made object.  Her heart quickened and she turned to look out the window again, but there was nothing visible there except ice.  The landscape outside tilted as the Skytrain made a wide turn, and Peggy squinted… would their be any sign?

Something glinted in the sun.  Was that ice, or metal?

“There it is again!” said Jason.  “That’s loud.  It’s got to be either rock or metal.  Fly around east-west this time so we can get another angle on it.”

The plane swung round again.  They passed the narwhal highway, though the sun was now too high for the individual animals’ shadows to be seen.  Their lane of open highway sparkled as the water moved, and Peggy wondered if all she’d seen earlier had been a puddle or a bit of unusually smooth ice.  This time it seemed to take much longer for them to get back to the same spot, but then it happened for a third time.  The needles zagged wildly across the paper, and Jason beamed in triumph.

“Did you get our heading?” he called to Howard.

“Got it!” the reply came back.  “Does anybody see anything?”

“I may have seen a piece of something metallic, but it’s very hard to tell in all the snow,” said Peggy.

“All right, we know where to look now, heading back to Resolute!” Howard said.  The plane began to turn again.

This seemed to come as a surprise to Lake.  “We’re not landing?” she asked.

“This thing isn’t designed to land on the ice, Doll-Face,” Howard replied.  “We’d probably go right through.”

“And here I thought Howard Stark would have more tricks up his sleeve,” said Lake.

“Now you’ve done it,” Peggy told her.  “He won’t rest until he’s made it work.”

- 

The locals in Resolute were interested to hear about the results of their quest – Peggy suspected that very little ever happened in such a place, and this was the most excitement they’d seen since the end of the war.  There were congratulations all around, and Howard had no trouble renting a pair of sleds and teams of wonderfully fluffy malamute dogs to pull them.  To Peggy’s surprise, Lake seemed to fall in love with these animals immediately.  She knelt down to ruffle their thick coats and let them lick her face, cooing endearments to them in English and the local language both.

“You wouldn’t have struck me as a dog person,” Peggy observed.

“I had a friend who absolutely adored them,” Lake told her.  “If I met these pretty boys and girls and didn’t tell them how much he would have loved them, he’d haunt me to the end of my days.”

Peggy wouldn’t have wanted to take too much advantage of the people of Resolute and their hospitality, but the alternative was those rations on the plane, so she allowed them to be invited for supper again.  It was very much the same as the previous meal but that was all right, as was the fact that Lake and a couple of the children were trying to give Howard and Jason lessons in Inuktitut.  That gave Peggy an opportunity to let her surroundings fade into the background and analyze her own thoughts.

Did she believe they’d found the Valkyrie?  It squared with the descriptions Lake claimed to have gotten from the locals, but Peggy still didn’t know if she’d been truthful about that.  There certainly wasn’t any sort of secret base, though, unless it had somehow been built on the seafloor and the ice allowed to re-freeze above it.  That seemed enormously impractical.  How would they bring in people and supplies?  The locals would surely notice, unless everything were done by submarine… and if there were submarine traffic in the area, there would probably not be any shy cetaceans like the narwhals.

But if it were the Valkyrie, then what did that mean?  How had Lake ever managed to find the place, and why, having done so, had she chosen to tell nobody but Peggy?  She very much doubted it was just to be nice.  She wanted Peggy to feel in her debt… she’d gone to the effort of coming along on the expedition to be sure they all knew who had made this possible.  She was going to want some kind of repayment.  Was all this just to secure Peggy’s help in getting Dottie back to the USSR alive, or was there something else?

She knew better than to ask.  Lake would not give her an answer.

Peggy also wondered what she was going to do if they found the Valkyrie.  Lake had described Steve’s body lying there above the plane, having been forced out the windows as seawater poured in.  That meant if they uncovered the wreck, it would be one of the first things they saw.  Peggy had to prepare herself for that.  When she’d thought this was all some kind of trick, she hadn’t needed to worry about her own emotional stability but now that the specter of actually finding him had reared its head… she didn’t know if she were ready.

And that was absurd, because Peggy had always lost Steve Rogers three times.  The first had been when she’d heard the radio go dead, and knew that he was thousands of miles away dying among fire and ice.  At the time she’d sat there and sobbed mindlessly for a while.  Phillips had patted her back and assured her it had probably been quick.  She’d drifted through the next few days in a kind of numbed haze, wanting desperately to get drunk but not allowing herself to do so.  Steve had not been able to get drunk when his lifelong friend had plummeted into a ravine, only days earlier.  Why should Peggy be permitted the privilege?

She’d lost him again a week later, when she’d waited all night at the Stork Club, knowing he wouldn’t be there but hoping against hope.  Of course he hadn’t come.  At sunrise she’d finally gone home.  When she’d heard Steve die on the radio, Peggy had felt hollowed out, as if she had no room for anything inside her but sorrow.  Leaving the Stork Club, she’d felt resigned and empty.  She was a tiny mote whose hopes and dreams and loves meant nothing in the face of a cold, uncaring world, and she would have to live with that.

The third time had been when she’d poured the vial of blood into the East River.  That had been sad, but peaceful.  It was time to let him go, and Peggy was ready to do so.  She would move on, and follow his example as best she could.

Could she really lose him a fourth time?  Could she look at his corpse in the ice and know that this time there was no room for even the most fleeting of fantasies, that the truth really was as cold and hard as the arctic ice?  Peggy didn’t know, and she wasn’t even sure she wanted to find out.

[reverieblue98]

Make Building a Plot Easier!

I think one of the biggest mountains writers have to face is coming up with a plot. This post will equip you with some better climbing gear to get over that mountain faster and better!

Conflicts

Let’s get into the nitty gritty right away! One of the main reasons writers find it so hard to come up with a good plot is that they have no conflicts! Remember that the basic parts of a plot are: what is the problem? and what is the solution? If you have no problem, you’ve already failed the first step! Here are some examples of conflicts you might have seen before. They’re very useful, so check it out!

Person vs self (internal) 

Person vs person (external)

Person vs society (maybe both)

Person vs nature (external)

Person vs supernatural/technological (external)

Most conflicts, big or small, will fit inside these categories. It will help if you identify which category your main plot fits into, or help you come up with one all together. Now, don’t assume that by picking an external conflict, you don’t use any internal ones. External conflicts in real life affect internal ones, and vise versa! 

For example, in a world where society forces you to work an awful job, (external conflict) you feel bored and depressed. (internal)

They directly correlate each other, so if you have one the other should come very easily! These complicated conflicts that create more conflicts are what gives stories purpose and interest. So, the hardest part is the part that you need to do first: What is your main conflict/problem? From there, decide how that problem affects the world, then how the world affects the people in it, then how the people affect each other. It’s a domino effect that requires some practice, but I promise that getting your conflicts sorted out will help you plan out your plot! 

World Building

Another huge issue I see a lot is that the author doesn’t actually know how their world works, or what makes it interesting. Let’s use some examples!

The Hunger Games is a bestselling series, and most people will tell you that they love it so much because it’s exciting. Why is it exciting? I don’t know, maybe it’s because THEY ARE IN A LITERAL FIGHT TO THE DEATH! If that isn’t intense world building, I don’t know what is! Suzanne Collins created a world where people are forced to competed in deadly competitions by a cruel overlord. Her world is so different from what ours is, and that’s what draws people in. It’s also what makes her plot easier to map out. Her main problem is directly connected to her world. In a world like ours, Collins’ main conflict wouldn’t make sense, but it works in her story because she knew how her world worked. 

Same for the Harry Potter series! If it was set in a world without magic, fighting a dark wizard probably wouldn’t make any sense. So, J.K. Rowling created a magic system, and explored how it would work in her story. She created a world where her conflict makes sense, and that paves the way for more conflicts/subplots. 

To summarize, you need to know how your world works, and what it looks like. It needs to compliment your main conflict so that the reader agrees that it makes sense. Rewrite the existing rules of reality so that your conflict is legitimate. You and the reader need to understand what’s going on, as well as how it happened and why. 

Development

You’ve probably heard of character development, but let’s go into more detail. 

The whole point of a fiction novel is to tell a story, right? A story should be comprised of a character who changes over time. If we get to the end of the book, and the character hasn’t changed, it’s not a very good book. 

Let’s say that you’re having a really bad day. Your alarm didn’t go off, and now you’re late to work. Oncer you get to the subway, someone spills some coffee on your shirt. It’s so hot that you drop your phone, and it gets cracked. You tell him it’s okay, but you’re not happy about it. At work, you get lectured on the importance of showing up on time by your boss. This makes you frustrated. After, the employees are talking about the stain on your shirt. You get embarrassed. After a long day of doing nothing but paperwork, you get home to find your wifi isn’t working. What would you do?

I”ll tell you what I’d do: I’d get upset. All those events through the day impacted me, and changed the way I behaved in different situations. This is what should happen to your characters. They should feel impacted by the events that happen around them, and that should change them into a different person by the end. Obviously, one terrible day at work wouldn’t deeply affect the person you are, (at least I hope not!) but your main conflicts should be big enough that they definitely change the character. No one likes a story where they character does nothing the whole time! We want to see their flaws and strengths, and how they change the outcome of different situation. It might seem small, but it’s very important. 

Brain Map

Alright, whether you have good conflicts, world building, and character development or not, you should begin to map out your plot. Personally, I like to use sticky notes to create a timeline for my stories. I use different colours for different characters, and each one has their own path. It allows me to visually see my plot, and identify any spots that might need some more attention. You could also write it out like an essay, talk it out with someone, or create a comic about it. It very important to be able to visually or auditorily see what your story is going to look like. If it’s all in your head, you might run into some problems like forgetting key ideas, unable to see plot holes, etc. I am a visual learner, so I love writing it out with different coloured pens on cool paper. 

So basically, don’t leave your plot in your head! Write it out so you can see what you need to work on, and so you don’t forget it. 

That was a long one, but I hope it helped you out! Creating a plot is definitely the hardest part about being a writer, and unfortunately, it’s different for everyone. Not all of these tips will work for everyone, but I think they are at least worth thinking about! There’s no formula to plots, so it’s all on you. No pressure or anything. 😉 Happy writing! 

-RB

[believerindaydreams]

It's Saturday night, I'll write some Colonel Autumn being a dick to Arcade fanfic if I wanna

Autumn

Defending Paradise Falls. Ha.

Up to now the arrangement has been going smoothly enough- the Enclave lets their activities slide, even pays half again what Ashur would for a first pick at quality captives. Given the alternative of being sent north to the Pitt, most people are only too happy to be taken to the shelter of Raven Rock.

Part of the bargain, though, was to save them if anyone should break through the defences- and so that's what you and your men are doing here, responding to Eulogy's urgent plea. Standing at the gate of a settlement wreathed in flame.

"Sir," one of the men says. "Shouldn't we be assisting?"

You watch the slavers, firing for their lives; and the flag of the Temple of the Union waving above Hannibal Hamlin's incinerator squad. A sense of overweening disgust takes you.

"Let them wipe each other out. We'll move in when it's over."

They wouldn't trust the assessment from anyone else; but you're Colonel Autumn, darling of the Enclave, and your word is iron law.

So they hold fire until the battlefield is only a cemetery, bodies of slavers and slaves scattered, and then you nod and they move in. Plenty of flame here to cleanse the corpses, scour this place for keeps.

Ashur will be displeased; well, let him be. It doesn't do to let any one faction in the Wasteland grow too powerful, and there's still too much risk of him rejoining his former allegiance. A Brotherhood with the Pitt's resources at its command could break the Capitol balance of power.

And as for Hannibal...well. President Eden doesn't care for non Enclave heroes.

So he's a particular priority to locate; and when your men report him in the clinic, defended by an Enclave Eyebot of all things, you raise an eyebrow and follow.

They aren't joking. Half its metal fronds are gone, it bobs up and down in a faltering pattern, but it's still functioning somehow. Impressive. They usually explode after the slightest tap-

wait, is this one of those Duraframe models? Damnit, this should have been scrapped already.

It does its best to zap anyone who goes near it; and any of your men could down it at need but they're all holding back, perplexed and disturbed. No one's ever hacked an Eyebot like this before.

There might be a good explanation, of course.

You nod at the Eyebot, draw your gun and place it down again. In its place, you hold out a super stimpak. It beeps, twice, and when you move forward it allows you.

Hannibal is alive, if barely; a medkit will keep him that way for now. The others- a mix of silver Temple armor and those new-fangled Follower coats- aren't wounded quite so badly, you can afford the resources to patch them up.

Somewhere around the second bottle of purified water wasted on someone who might not even be good Enclave material, you realise that you've slipped back into character, Lone Wanderer instead of colonel, and that's a foolish thing to do with your men watching in silence. They shouldn't watch their leader showing softness, or aimlessly pocketing ammo like a common prospector. Maybe it's been too long since you've travelled with Boone.

"I will fight you," Hannibal mumbles, training a lever-action rifle on you.

It has been too long. Taking this sort of risk doesn't befit this uniform. "I'm not trying to kill anyone. Shut up and let the Enclave save you people."

He lets the gun drop, but maintains a hard stare. "I never heard that your men ever left your Vertibirds."

You lean in close. "I stole this colonel's uniform so these folks wouldn't shoot me. They don't know I'm the Lone Wanderer."

His pained face eases into a smile. "That isn't a title to be claimed lightly."

"Believe me, I don't."

He chuckles, accepts the vodka you offer him. "I remember forging a claim just that mad and making it stick...all right then, Colonel. How about the slavers, any of them make it out?"

"No. We made sure."

"Good...Arcade? Arcade, we did it. We're still alive, and it's thanks to your medic skills."

The Follower he's attempting to wake groans, covers filthy glasses with the sleeve of an even dirtier coat. "Take two stims and call me in the morning. I'm done in."

One of the others is waking now, a short woman who was still clutching her shotgun when she passed out. "Hannibal? Arcade? You feel as good as I do?"

"Just about," Hannibal says warmly. "And I'm very proud of you."

She snorts at him. "Enough soft soap. I only helped murder, oh, every slaver in Paradise Falls."

None of your men would talk back to you like that.

For a moment, you wish they might.

*****

Arcade

Well. This is good and bad.

It's good, because the last time he was conscious had left him fairly sure it would be the last. The trip here was meant to be recon, not a full-fledged battle; Hannibal's insistence on always being prepared is all that had saved them. Well, and his own battlefield skills, which have improved of necessity on this coast. And Simone carrying so many guns that everyone in the pen could take one.

And the small Eyebot that's been their secret weapon, going in for the kill in tight spots. He's sure it made the difference between their life and death at the last, when Eulogy and his minions were taking them on personally.

And considering that, thinking of blowing up ED-E seems hugely ungrateful.

He repacks his depleted doctor's bag, feels the heavy weight of the detonator in his pocket. One quick movement and it would be over. Nothing to tie him to a piece of technology that he had no business dealing with in the first place.

An Eyebot bound for Navarro, never even making it out of the Wasteland; and if it reached its goal it would find nothing but dust.

Arcade raises the detonator unobtrusively, looks at the Eyebot. An Enclave scientist is trying to mend it, cursing under his breath as it beeps cheekily, bobbing up and down.

He sighs and doesn't fire, walks back into the clinic to meet Hannibal, who's beaming with pleasure.

"All well then?"

"Frankly, I could have done without the Enclave swooping in to loot everything. Simone's giving me plenty of lip for that. But we've found a few more survivors and the Colonel's men are helping out." His voice softens. "And Paradise Falls is broken forever. We can go back to the Memorial and be at peace, now."

"Actually, Arcade Gannon will be coming with us."

Arcade jumps- not least because he hadn't heard the colonel's footsteps. "Sorry?"

"Can I speak bluntly to you two?" Autumn asks, in an undertone.

"Shoot," Hannibal says, evenly. "Because he seems taken aback by this."

"See, it's like this...my men checked the records, they say he's a deserter. That means either him or his head. I'd rather it be him, you know?"

The soft drawl is attractive, but not enough to distract him from the content. "That's a- a mistake?"

"We have good records," Autumn says, looking apologetic. "And the Eyebot...the Eyebot was a give-away, you know. They wanted to know who did that. And more than that..." His voice lowers. "I need help. Badly. We're supposed to go back to Raven Rock today, and I don't even know where the damn place is."

Arcade looks around to see if any Enclave soldiers are here to witness this remarkable statement. They aren't.

"You get into some funny situations when you're the Lone Wanderer."

"Oh! Boone's friend!"

"...you know him?"

Arcade gulps down an incriminating statement. "Yeah. He shows up at the Followers tent for help with his addictions, he has a weakness for Steady. And moonshine. I tell him to cut back and he never does."

"Sounds familiar," Autumn says dryly. "My vice is vodka- he talks about me? Because I've met more talkative Deathclaws."

"Ooh...um, not that much. But apparently you pay well and you don't sleep enough."

"True enough...and look, I'll be honest with you. This scares me. An in to Raven Rock is the biggest thing I've ever been caught up in, and in twenty minutes I have to head there with no backup. Maybe you could come along?"

"If you're unwilling to go back," Hannibal says, squaring his shoulders. "We'll help you. I don't approve of people being held under duress."

"But I could do so much good by finding out how they tick," Autumn says quietly. "Even if it kills me."

"It will kill you," Arcade blurts out. "You don't know what you're doing here."

The door swings open, a soldier marches in and salutes. "Sir. The Vertibird is warming up."

"You don't have to go," Hannibal says, loading his gun; and Arcade knows that's meant for both of them.

"Duty calls," Autumn says.

And his solemn tone decides Arcade like no rational argument could; a man walking into hell of his own accord with no idea how to get out. Because he's trying to save the Wasteland, because there's no one here to help.

And it isn't even Autumn's responsibility, or heritage, or guilt.

Arcade steps in front of him. "I'm convinced. I'll come back to the Enclave."

It's the thing he's been running from all his life; and he won't let an innocent walk into it alone.

"And the test came back on this, sir. Scientists say it won't explode, but they can't quite figure what it does."

Autumn takes the weapon, gingerly pockets it. "We'll let them loose on it at base."

"Tell the Followers," Arcade starts, and stops. "Tell them I'm dead."

Boone would understand, feeling like destiny has caught up. He won't have the others trapped too.

"I'll honour that," Hannibal agrees. "Godspeed, Follower."

If it's the last time anyone will call him that, there isn't a better man to say it.

That's the last thought he has, as they go outside and start for the Vertibird; because Colonel Autumn doesn't take a chance and shoots him in the back.

The Eyebot that witnesses the act goes down next.

[velociraptors-dont-lie]

My way

Pairing : Din Djarin x OC

Blurb: When something bad happens it’s unsure what one will do in the face of something new and scary. For one such as her, the role seems small, unimportant and yet she’ll do it all her way for the child in her care.

A/N : I wasn’t gonna post this because it seems a bit too ...meh. i dont even have a proper vision for this yet but...im sure it’ll come to me. i got into the star wars universe recently so im a bit uneducated which...kinda works for this story actually. Lemme know any thoughts though. 

Warnings: None? i don’t think in this chapter

Part Two

Chapter One: Arrival

There's a Galaxy not too far away.

It's beautiful. It's everything she could have possibly asked for and it's right there in her sights. It feels almost as if she could reach out and touch it, so close and yet so far away. So many things it could have been, yet it was a simple yet complex Galaxy that caught her eye in the dark space around her.  

Sighing, she looks away from the hunger-inducing chocolate bar and continues to work with her higher-paid...male coworkers.  

They bustled and ranted from all around her, flanked from all sides as she tried to figure just why they didn't treat her with the same respect other females in the workplace got.

Perhaps it was her clothes, her blue hair? her choice in jewelry perhaps? Everything about her seemed perfectly normal, she was fairly normal, kind, and helpful...so why did they seem to hate her so much?

Maybe it wasn't hate so much as indifference. They did thank her when she brought their coffee or tea and they did say please when they asked her for stuff. She smoothed down the black pencil skirt as she looked upon the notes and files on her desk.

The place of her work wasn't entirely for the simple. Sure there was the usual lab work, science work involving different studies, the particular area in which she was interning for, was Space.

Time and space.

The small team of scientists were working on several theories and tests all at the same time. Files from new technology to new ways to travel in space came through her desk each day.

Never had she thought something quite like this would be obtainable.

Pens, rocks, different fabrics, all of which had gone through the test of teleportation into space. The landings were screwy, some rocks landed in the dead nonexistent atmosphere, forever suspended.

Others had landed on different planets. Only discernible if the tracker still worked.

Three hamsters had died in transportation, more had suffocated in space...she knew which idiot had forgotten to put them in a sealed oxygenated box.

There were more failures than successes and they were no closer to their goal of finding out what lay on the other side of a Galaxy.

The day had started off like any other. She pined for her chocolate, pined for her soft fuzzy socks and warmth of her bed. As much as she loved that she had gotten into one of the most wanted lab spots as an intern.

She wished she was more than just an intern.

The light pink shirt she wore blended nicely between her blue hair and black pencil skirt; black heeled shoes completing the air of sophistication.  Everything seemed fairly normal except for the people.

They'd never been like this. The workplace always used to be kind and safe, now she just felt odd and scared. It was silent and they all looked at her with passing glances, hoping she wasn't realizing that they were staring sometimes.

It was awfully suspicious. All-day they'd be secretive, more so than usual and it was really starting to creep her out. So she reached down and picked up her bag from the floor, heading for the first reception out of the building.

''I'm heading home for the day, I don't feel too good.''

''Of course, Nora. I hope you feel better. Oh! quickly before you go-'' Nora rejected the urge to roll her eyes. Anticipating the gold medal run for Talking in the Olympics for England, Nora was ready for her feet to be aching, instead what she felt was entirely different.

The woman was still talking as the pinch in her neck subsided, Nora's eyes falling shut immediately, the world going blank as she fell back into the waiting arms of a coworker.

Well, Ex-coworker.

Waking up was a feat in itself. She felt hot, courtesy of the fact that they had stuffed her into a spacesuit, where they had acquired the thing or where they had put her favourite pair of shoes were the questions on her mind.

Aside from the obvious 'what the fuck are they doing to me' question in big bold letters, screaming itself in her head. At least it was before the realization set in.

They'd thrown her into a spacesuit without taking off her underclothes, her skirt bunched uncomfortably under it, she had no socks on in the giant boots. The vacuum-sealed room had only one exit and it was locked tight.

Though it wasn't entirely empty. She was there yes, but so were her shoes and her bag. ''THose are for you to keep in event you end up somewhere...alive.''

The head of their little team spoke on the other side of the glass. He used to be kind, he used to smile all the time and now he just looked evil, devoid of any emotion.  

''Please don't do this!'' It wasn't hard for them to hear her, the helmet's comm was connected to the entire room and she could hear her echo. ''I'll die!''

''Nonsense. You're the best human candidate we have for this test.''

''I never fucking volunteered! Asshole!'' She pounded her fist against the window, the fight in her was dead but she was going to act as if she had any chance of getting out of that room. ''People will look for me. They will miss me!''

''There's nothing to look for here. You left early after suddenly coming down with an illness.''  Anita's face fell, her own excuse being used against her so all her friends would think she was just another missing person.

''Fire it up.''

She could feel the rumble beneath her feet, the telltale startup of the machine. They actually going to do this. ''No! This is inhuman! Monstrous! Please don't!''

Ignored, the head starting barking more orders, muffled and incoherent as he turned off the comm connection. The lights in the room flickered, computer screens and phone screens, electricity could all but be seen in the air.

This was new. Something they seemed to have done behind her back. The normal machine never took so much power to be used, and she wondered just what needed so much power.

The answer came in the form of a strong wind. A pull from behind her and she could see that her bag was moving towards it.  

Space. In the palm of their hand, contained in this tiny room. They had opened a portal nearby to the andromeda galaxy, or it so seemed like they had done it. Anita couldn't actually see the galaxy, nor any galaxy or star, just the vast darkness of space.

Anita gathered her grey bag, shoving her shoes into it as she turned back to the window, banging on it in fear as she pleaded with them to stop this. Pleaded with their humanity that she would stay silent about this if they just let her out.

All her coworkers stayed still, neither moving nor blinking at the show of science in front of them. Whatever force of gravity was pulling her away was getting stronger, her instant hold on anything was pure instinct.

Though it was not strong enough. The gloves didn't allow for the same grip she would have had without them on.  She felt her hands slipping and when she eventually had been pulled from the bar.

The loss of gravity felt strange, as though she were in an elevator, her entire being felt weightless but it still terrified her to no end. On the edge of hyperventilating, she suddenly felt the sucking vacuum once again before Gravity dropped her to the ground.

Anita felt relief, eyes closed she thought perhaps the machine hadn't worked, that it had turned off and failed. On the contrary, The machine had worked too well.

The room she was in was empty. The scientists were baffled and the entire building was dark, everything within a five-mile radius was dark as the power had been used for the machine. The only thing that told the scientists that it had worked, was the lights they checked when they managed to get everything back on.

When Anita opened her eyes, the relief vanished and fear had returned. The ground underneath her was not white and tiled, it was brown and...sand, her helmet had cracked and she hear the air whistling through the tight gap as the wind blew.

She'd had been dead if she couldn't breathe the atmosphere so it had to be at least similar to Earths atmosphere. She was warm, too warm and she didn't know if it was because her heart was pounding or because of the sun looming overhead.

Wrenching off the bulky helmet, Anita worked on stripping the heavy and hot suit from her body which left her in just her smart work clothes and a labcoat. Anita's cries were loud, no one was around to hear them and she had to let out some of the emotions she was feeling.

She couldn't believe they had done that to her. She had worked with them for months and thought she was their friend. To be thrown away so easily wasn't something Anita was used to and crying in the middle of a desert, barefoot and at risk of cancer was something she never expected to be doing.

She picked up her bag, heels poking out the edge, and hugged to her chest. the only familiar thing around her wasn't going to leave her sight.  The sand was hot on her toes, tears still falling as she stood to her feet and wondered which direction to walk in to find any sort of civilization or place to set a base up.

She hadn't known how long she had been walking, sand was stuck to her feet as sweat dripped down her legs. Flyaway blue hairs stuck to her head and she wished she had more than the tiny bottle of water she bought on the way to work.

She was scared, alone, and had no way of knowing where she was. She hadn't seen anything more than a random frog-like thing hopping around. The racing heart and mind were only just starting to calm down when she heard shouting in a foreign language.

Something shot at her, just barely missing her toes in the sand and Anita screamed. Falling to her knees and throwing her hands in the air as non-threateningly as she could possibly get.  Hands roughly grabbed and shoved down behind her back, forced back to her feet and to walk in a direction different to the one she was going in.

''Please, I don't understand!!''

The strange beings that had seemed to take her prisoner continued to force her forward. Only 4 of them but the glimpse of red and green skin was enough to make her realize she didn't want to see them.

''Quiet!''

Something in her dropped with relief that they seemed to know even a little bit of English. She half thought she could perhaps reason with them, try to get them to let her go in any direction they were not in.

The feel of a gun barrel told her not to speak again though. Anita regretted not doing so as they walked over a large dune, an encampment sitting there looking all...suspicious to her.  More of the people who had captured her were walking around it, seemingly keeping guard of the place which only further cemented the fact that these were not good people...things.

They took her in and snatched her bag from her, one looked through it while the other pushed what looked like a metal egg towards her.

''Hey! B-be careful with those!'' Though scared, her phone was terribly expensive and she still wanted to keep all her familiar items from home even if some of them wouldn't work here.

The one with the gun like weapon jabbed her with the barrel and made a sound that told her to be quiet. pushing the metal egg into her thighs with more force. ''You care for it.''

''Care for what!? Is this thing alive!? It's an egg! Hey, now that is super duper expensive!'' Overwhelmed and jabbed once again with the gun barrel, Anita watched helplessly as the one with her bag dropped her perfume back in it without a care. She hoped it hadn't broken.

''Care for it!'' Hardly any other option at the end of a weapon, Anita wrapped her arms around the egg and held it close to her hoping to appease the thing talking in broken English. The other one threw her bag back down to the floor and they both left together, the large metal door shutting behind them heavily.

Evidently her only way out of the room, Anita had little choice but to sit on the floor and observe the metal egg she was given. It was white, but very clearly bashed up with a slit down the middle of the top end.

Anita squinted at what looked like buttons on the front of it. Gently tapping her painted fingernails on the metal, jumping when she heard a cooing sound muffled from within; her mouth made an 'o' shape at the realization that the egg itself wasn't alive, but there was instead something alive inside it.

She didn't want to open it. What if it was like those other things. What if it was scaly or had horns and sharp, what if it bit her entire hand off and she needed a metal hook to replace it!? Laughing at herself, Anita hovered her finger over the button counting to three before pressing it quickly and shuffling away on the off chance it would bite her.

The cooing sounded again, louder now it wasn't covered by the metal. Anita opened her eyes and glanced at it, thoroughly surprised by what she saw, for one, it was green...

And utterly adorable.

''Oh hiiii.'' Whatever it was cooed again at her tone and Anita held her breath, heart pounding for a completely different reason now. ''You've been kept in this pod thing like this the whole time?''

She questioned mostly to herself, as it seemed not to be able to speak actual words. It tilted its head, large green ears the size of her hands flopping a little at the tips and it made another sound as it reached its hands out to her.

Anita could almost burst out into tears, it wanted to be held and it looked so heartbrokenly neglected. She immediately swooped it from the weird metal bassinet thing and cradled it to her chest, wondering if her heart could break anymore when it closed its eyes and tapped its small green finger to the sound of her heartbeat.

''Oh honey, they've been treating you horridly haven't they?'' at this, it's hands bunched in her lab coat. The creature was obviously quite frightened, confused as to why it was so important to the other things and Anita had chosen her path in this new galaxy, right by this child's side for as long as it needed her.

''There's no need to be afraid anymore. I am your mother now and I will protect you.''

[lostcybertronian]

The Author’s Night Vale- Part Three

Written by @thepoolofthedead ugh they did such a good job with this.

---

Author leaned back in his office chair, lost in thought, his secrets having been kept by the good doctor. Dark suspected something. He’d doubled down the security since their little chat in the hallway; one of the Googles always seemed just a step behind, invading his privacy in the most annoying way possible. He hadn’t dared go back to the Old Oak door, not with them following him around. 

He’d try to write them away, forcing them into a nightmare of their own making, only for the Jims to appear, far worse than the dead-eyed glares of Google Blue, or the silent scowls of Red.

He spun in his chair, idly glancing around at what had once been a recording studio. The hotel notepad sat in his lap, and he drummed his pen against it. He came to a stop slowly, his eyes landing on a dusty old radio, tucked away on a high shelf. A grin appeared on his face as he stood up, brushing aside the cobwebs and dust and plucking up the ancient-looking device. He tucked the notepad and the pen into his pocket, carrying the machine out of his studio and through the library, studiously ignoring the android sitting by the fireplace. Green only fixed him with a blank stare, his eyes flashing as he reported back to Blue.

“Author?” Green called out as he swept out of the library. The Author gave him no mind, and even made sure to kick the door shut for good measure when he heard the android’s footsteps approaching.

“Author, stop!” Green’s voice was muffled through the thick wood but the Author only ignored it as he broke into a run, cutting down hallways and through doors. He needed to be alone, but Dark wouldn’t let him. He could fix that.

A left, a right, down a set of stairs, another left, through a set of double doors, where the chemical stench of antiseptic and the steady chirps of heart monitors were waiting to greet him.

He smiled and nodded to the nurse. She responded in kind before disappearing behind a curtain, knowing better than to ask questions when any of the facility occupants entered the clinic. 

He clutched the radio like a lifeline as he opened Edward’s office door. “Batteries. Do you have some?”

There came a scoff behind him; he glanced back at Green, who glared at him with nothing less than murder in his mechanical glowing eyes. He even seemed offended as his gaze shot to the old radio, a clearly inferior piece of technology.

“And you didn’t ask your bodyguard first?” Edward asked casually, glancing up from his work, amused. Nonetheless he got up, crossing to a cabinet labeled “Misc.” and pulling out a cardboard box sagging with a couple dozen batteries. “What kind?”

“Uh,” The Author leaned over to squint at the piles of batteries. “Those big round ones. Four of ‘em.”

Edward rifled through the box, producing four C batteries and handing them over to the Author, who eagerly set the radio down on the desk and began jamming them into the back.

Both ignored the glowering Green, even as one android quickly became two, and two androids became all four Googles standing in Edwards office while the Author worked the dials. 

Static was all he got as he dialed through MegaHertz. He strained his ears, watching the number roll higher on the radio dial. He kept going, frowning when there was still only static.

Nothing, location: Edwards Office, He scribbled in his notepad, which lay on the desk just out of view of prying eyes. His abilities circled him as he stood. “Well, thanks for trying.”

“Sure.” Edward shrugged. “Hope you find what you’re looking for. Now get out of my office. Take your robots with you.”

“Half the fun is the thrill of the hunt.” The Author grinned and blew him a kiss before snatching up the radio and his notepad and spinning. “Come Googles, to the lobby!” 

He glanced back as only Red and Yellow followed. He jerked his head back toward the other two. “What’s with them? Not what floats their boat?”

“It’s shift change,” Yellow said, “and I was curious. What are you looking for?” He nodded to the radio.

“A certain station, I had a dream.” The foyer was dirty and ill-used, as usual; dust motes floated through the air, and what little afternoon sunlight managed to get through the dust-covered windows glinted off the broken mirror hanging off the far wall.

The Author looked at it. Three similar faces looked back; the Googles, of course, were identical, merely aged versions of his own face. The Author stood in silence. How much did they really know? Did they know why everyone in the office looked the same? Did they know that there were others like them? 

A shadow flitted through the mirror, as if sensing his inner turmoil. The faceless shadow slammed silent fists and silent screams against the cracked glass.

He set the radio on the table under the mirror, repeating the process from before, except this time all that came through was a distorted voice, crackling and mostly gone: do not trust the demon. Do not trust the demon.

The Author glared at the shadow in the mirror. “You’re not helping.” Then, he scrawled, shadow entity pleading for help, investigate later. Location: Foyer/ Lobby into his notepad.

When he turned, he was alone; the androids were gone, evaporated into the dust hovering idly in the air. With a cautious step forward as he looked up the stairwell and to the balcony, where there was no one at all. The house-turned-facility was oddly silent. 

He grabbed the radio and notepad, scribbling notes quickly. His footsteps echoed as he ventured up the stairs, ducking through doorways and halls, stopping to listen for any other occupants of the manor.

He paused, backtracking to where his own bedroom door was. In the place of the sleek mahogany door was a weathered oak door that looked like it'd be at home in one of his novels. He approached, his hand on the door knob. A click greeted him, and the doorknob turned with a rusted squeak and opened to allow him through into an all-too familiar sandy desert.

The quiet static of the radio suddenly became a smooth, alluring voice and the Author jumped, spinning to find that the door had closed behind him. 

“-Welcome to Night Vale.” The voice purred. There was a pause during which all that could be heard was music, then the voice continued, “Perhaps we are all part of a greater story, one that doesn't revolve around us. Or maybe it does. Perhaps we are nothing more than words on a page. Now, my dear listeners, allow me to read these words off the page that just appeared on my desk: Necessary. Evil. Enabled. Damage. Nudge. Ego. War. Monsters. Avenge. Never. Anger. God. That is all. Perhaps it is a code of some sort.  Perhaps it is a warning, or the telling of a war beyond our understanding, one of monsters and gods. Now, onto town news, the new Mayor Pamela [error noise] wants to congratulate the man or being who took out the escaped Librarian early this morning. Thank you for your service.” 

Author walked, following the radio signal as it got louder, listening to the man named Cecil talk through the speakers. Occasionally, the man talks about the Author, describing him to a T, describing every moment, every thought. 

The Author entered the town wondering if this was what his victims felt like; a voice narrating every move he made, a mounting sense of dread and curiosity. He went up the steps of the building with the radio tower on top of it, pushing the door open to a few half-hearted shouts of “interloper!”

He glanced around the rather open building. A girl? No, a person, the Author decides, is sitting at what looks like a secretary desk. 

They smiled up at him as he approached, then at the radio, now playing a jazzy beat. “The weather sounds pretty good today.”

“Yeah,” the Author agreed, then leaned forward. “I was hoping to inquire about the new management position-”

 He jerked as a man burst through the recording studio door. He looked normal enough at first glance, and, to Author’s relief, nothing like the man who created him.

“You have returned, stranger,” the man said, sounded almost giddy. A third eye blinked open at the center of his forehead, purple and staring. “The Author, correct?”

“The one and only.” The Author offered his hand. 

Cecil ignored it completely. ��Cecil Baldwin. Can I get a statement?”

The Author considered this. “Well, I am new in town-”

“I doubt that!” Cecil chuckled and headed back toward the door, where he turned and paused. “What’s your name again?”

The Author blanked. “Author” was the only name he’d ever known, but-

“Mark,” he answered finally. “My name is Mark.”

Cecil grinned conspiratorially, like he'd been let in on a joke. “Intern Alex, please take care of Mister Mark,” he said, before disappearing once more into the studio.

The door clicked shut, and a moment later the radio flipped back to Cecil's voice. “My dearest Listeners, you'll never believe what just happened,” he said excitedly, “you know the man-- yes, that man. Imagine him in your mind-- who has been traveling through the desert? He is here. In the studio! Can you believe it? He claims to be new, though we all know no one is ever new to our little town. But Welcome to Night Vale anyway, Mister Author, and we do hope you enjoy your custom-made Night Vale experience. Please remember to drop by the mayor's office to fill out your ‘new citizen’ paperwork, or I fear we will never see you again.”

“Right this way Mister Author.” Intern Alex-- the Author guessed that it was Intern Alex who was speaking to him now, considering the slightly blood-spattered pin and t-shirt they wore-- said They led him down a hall, past a wall of glass, where, from behind it, Cecil shot them a thumbs up as they passed. Soon, they found themselves facing a looming door with a black plaque labeled Office Management.

Author surveyed it for a moment, then said with a grin, “this is perfect. Thank you.”

“Sure,” Intern Alex replied, “no problem.” He left the Author standing there, presumably to head back to his desk. The Author did not watch him go, so he wouldn’t know.

“Perfect,” he said to himself, and reached for the doorknob.

[skidblast]

The Villains of Transformers.

This seems like a basic non-question. We got Unicron as the world-ending threat, and various incarnations of Megatron doing the rest of the job to keep the threat going. However, there is another angle to it.

Often we hear the phrase “write what you know”. Which seems simple enough, that you got experience with something that you can write it pretty true. But what does one know about mechanical aliens that have been fighting a war for 4 million years?

But the various writers of the Transformers franchise throughout the years have written what they know. There is an overarching threat in each one of the transformers incarnations that is different from the Megatron the Tyrant or the Planet-eating Unicron. It’s more like background noise, providing the constant that is happening, a crutch when writing.

Unfortunately I won’t be touching on Japanese produced media, I haven’t studied the history of Japan to know the nuanced details of culture background noise or incidental historic events to comment on Headmaster, Victory, RID2001, Unicron Trilogy and any other that I have missed.

I will also skip the Marvel, Dreamwave and FunPub comics/media as I’ve not read them. Cyberverse and the second IDW release are skipped as they are pretty recent additions. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy is skipped as well due to simplicity.

The main theme of the G1 cartoon is energy shortage. Cybertron is out of Energon, they flee Cybertron to find more energy. The Decepticons set up base on Earth because the humans have begun to harness the energy of their planet, allowing easy access to said energy and to ship it home.

This doesn’t come out of nowhere. In fact, most people have heard of the precursor in passing. The time when cars were lined up at the gas stations.

1979 was a bad shock for the oil market. Iran revolted, causing oil production to shrink a bit and caused panic, which in turned caused the prices of oil to rise dramatically. This was also the year where the Three Mile Island Accident happened, so people got vary of nuclear power. Gas rationing was discussed, and in some states actually implemented. Then recession hit in the wake of this.

The effects of the oil crisis and the following recession were still felt, so a cartoon about an energy crisis was very easy to write.

Beast Wars is an odd one to analyse. It came as the Transformers franchise was dying, and Hasbro was desperate to reinvent Transformers for the new kids. The appeal of cars turning into robots was no longer around, but making them animals was the push Hasbro needed to refresh the Transformers.

So we end up with the beginning basically rehashing the Transformers cartoon, but when the overarching plot hits, when the threads get revealed after a whole season of basically filler, we find the inspiration that the writers had. This time, it is not energy crisis, in 1996 we had put that behind us.

We have Megatron leading a team trying to restore the Decepticons as rightful rulers via time travel. We then discover he had actually gone against the so-called Tripredacus Council, the fractured Predacon Alliance who were biding their time and see the usefulness of what Megatron is trying to accomplish. In order to gain more power without breaking the peace made with the Pax Cybertronia, they use secret agents and secret police.

This is very familiar to a lot of people who haven’t seen Beast Wars or heard of it. This is Russia.

In 1991, the Soviet Union collapsed, and with that the Cold War ended. Peace was had. But as Russia threw off the communism ties from them, the ruling body still needed to exert control over the nation, and to broaden their influence beyond their borders. Russia went from Communism to Mafia-like control, using secret police, subtle threats and various other shady things. People saw what was going on, and with the new fear they were facing, they made it known in the media.

Beast Machines is a bit easier to figure out compared to its predecessor. It’s mostly because the message of Beast Machines resonates strongly today. 

Beast Machines came shortly after Beast Wars, as the toyline was trying to go away from the purely animal transformers and going for more mechanical look. But how do you really bridge those together?

At the tail end of the 80ies, environmentalism was on the rise. There was an undercurrent of that happening in Beast Wars, but in Beast Machines it had much more weight to it. With Megatron wanting to stamp out any biological influences from Cybertron, ready to eradicate any traces of it and mass-producing purely mechanical beings to repopulate Cybertron. While Optimus Primal was embracing the biological side of it, becoming sort of a guru through the Oracle.

The rise of industrialism is frightening prospect, seeing the nature retreat into near nothingness, and seeing the callousness of the industry just ignore it completely in favour for profits. But there was no denying that industrialism was there to stay, so while it is the main fear of the series, the message of the series was not to abolish it but to tame it, not let it out of control and make sure that the environment was put on equal grounds to it.

Animated is a strong reboot like Beast Wars was, coming at the same time as the Michael Bay films. Japanese production had taken over after Beast Machines finished, but Hasbro sought to retake the American market with media that they controlled. Importing Anime and dubbing it was all and good, but if they had complete control, they would have better chance to make it appeal to the market they wanted, the Western one.

It’s 2007. Following 9/11 the USA goes to war. And it is still going, with a certain hopelessness attached to it as people are getting more and more jaded by it. But most people never really felt the impact, only heard about it. There was no draft, there was no conscription. People joined the military, and those who came back came back either just a little bit off, or really suffering, and couldn’t get proper help.

Transformers Animated touches on civilians being basically forced into the war, against foes that were thought to be defeated long ago. It touches on the hardship of those civilians as they are part of it, feeling both the elation of being thought as heroes, and feeling the terror of the situation that they are in. A highlight of this is the episode Thrill of the Hunt, which came rather early, and touched on themes that are not common to see in media aimed at children, looking at Ratchet going too far, and suffering from some form of PTSD as well.

While the actual war had never visited the US or the spacebridge repair crew, the impact of it was felt on them, with all the horrors that entails.

Transformers Animated and first Michael Bay Transformers film came out on the same year. Yet the themes of the film series is far from what Animated did. One part of it is that Hollywood movies are more constricted as they have to appeal to a whole lot of audience in order to gain any return from the production cost. So everything is analysed in detail, making sure that nothing would alienate the vast majority of the Western World. We are in fact seeing it more obviously as China is growing stronger as a consumer market for Hollywood movies, and we see how the movies are made to appeal to that market as well.

So doing a commentary on the Afghanistan war like Transformers Animated did was out of the question. But it doesn’t mean that there isn’t a fear in the movie like in anything else.

Technology is on rapid rise. The rule of CPU power doubling every 18 months was still holding. New technology comes before anyone can really adapt to what had been introduced not so long ago.

The fear in the Michael Bay films is the rampancy of technology. We have severely advanced alien race make contact, and in fact made most of the technology based on one of them, found at the turn of the previous century. Technology that wasn’t even fully understood, that people thought they could easily control. But it goes out of control.

This concept is called Technological Singularity, where technology eventually becomes uncontrollable and we get swept up in the wake of it, having to deal with the new reality that we are no longer the masters of the world we are in. Grey Goo is one of the better known representation of this idea. Another is the idea of an overlord AI that either seeks to exterminate humanity, rule it with iron fist, or simply think of humans as we think of ants, insignificant.

IDW Publishing was on the scene two years earlier, in 2005. However given how long the first G1 iteration of it ran it gets mentioned after TFA and the movies due to that, allowing for Aligned continuity to come after it.

While TFA showed how the Afghanistan War impacted US citizens, who had not really experienced being at war while being so interconnected with the world and able to receive so much information, the IDW comics went for the other angle, the other fear that ruled in the USA at that time.

9/11. The fear of terrorism happening, the fear of foreign infiltration. The Decepticons had a plan on how the infiltration happened, every step of it planned, making sure that they could make the residents of the planet do most of the work of disrupting the peace, making it easy for them to swoop in and destroy the rest.

While things didn’t go as planned as the Autobots intervened pretty early, the Decepticons went public on full force, taking over New York City and almost dropped an atomic bomb on it. The connection to 9/11 is pretty hard to miss.

And then Phase 2 hits. James Roberts becomes one of the more interesting writers in the series. And this is where things go slightly off. James Roberts is more of a writer that knows what he’s writing about, instead of being influenced by current events.

And James Roberts has made known he has major interest in politics as he worked with politicians before picking up the pen for IDW Publishing. Write what you know, and James Roberts know politics, and political history.

In Phase 2 there is increased focus on the actual motivations behind the war. While Megatron Origins did go into how Megatron became the leader of the Deceptioncs, it was James Roberts that made it into the communism reflection that it became in the comics. It isn’t really some overarching fear in the background of the comics, it’s known quantity woven into the narrative of the comic.

Transformers Prime came in 2010, after Transformers Animated, seeking to remove the stylised aesthetics of the former toyline and try to be more like the movies.

And it wasn’t the only thing it changed. What was changed as well was the work that was actually put behind the actual lore of the series, making a true production bible that was used not for just the TV series but the accompanying video games as well, War For Cybertron and Fall Of Cybertron. And there was also a clear message along with that, this was a new continuity, new setting. Aligned, seeking to mesh together all the good from the various franchises into one good package.

But with all that background done on it, it’s easy to point out how Megatron went from a revolutionary to a tyrant and that would be about that. But it is not that simple.

What colors Transformers Prime is subtle and easily overlooked. In 2007 we experienced a dire financial crisis. Unemployment shot up, investments plummeted, there was no good safety net for people and a lot of them fell through the cracks. But these things are hard to really put into a show like this without it being explicitly about it. But there is another side effect of the recession that wasn’t that apparent in 2010, is more obvious now, but with the Transformers lore from the 1984 cartoon being similar, it blends into the usual Transformers noise.

Refugees.

Optimus Prime and his small team are simply refugees. Cybertron did run out of fuel, but the plots of harvesting energon and fighting over resources is more rehashing of the old cartoon plots. The focus is more on the Autobot team as they deal with being literal aliens in the US, escaping the tyranny that they fled. How they are treated by the locals, how they deal with the isolation of being in a culture different from theirs. They simply try to survive. Like how most people hit by the recession felt.

Robots in Disguise was released after Transformers Prime, going away from the expensive production and to more cheaper look. But with the so-called Aligned continuty having been a strong reboot of the “TV cartoons” series, Hasbro was in no hurry to abandon it, making Robots in Disguise a sequel to Transformers Prime.

Though with the war over, a new kind of threat had to be made. And Steeljaw steps into the role, not only as the main antagonist of the series, but as the representation of the fear theme of the series.

What isn’t really that obvious in Robots in Disguise is just how powerful Steeljaw is. Steeljaw isn’t just some generic Decepticon villain who escapes just so they can reuse his model instead of having to create even more Decepticons. He has fighting prowess, he is able to outwit the Bumblebee team. And the most dangerous weapons he has are his personality and voice.

Steeljaw is able to talk himself out of trouble. He has major ambitions, he knows what to do in order to recruit others. He wants power and respect, and if left unchecked, he will have it. And he knows that if there is some that he can’t convince, he can fight, and he will fight dirty.

Steeljaw represents a fear that people have experienced for a long time, but it wasn’t until recently that it really put into the spotlight. He is the abuser, the person in power that will make your life miserable. He antagonises Bumblebee and his team by causing them trouble, drive them off their safe haven of Earth and later drives them from their safe space, forcing them to go on the run. He finds power by leading a pack of Decepticons, then later by allying himself to the new council until he realises that he will not achieve his goals with him.

I hope you’ve enjoyed this massive post of mine.

[fallenfurther]

Conflict

Here a Post Episode fic for Episode 3: Space Race (I know I’m pushing into the wrong week but I only got this finished today. Also it was written on a night shift/post night shift so I have no idea how it compares to my normal writing.) 

This also contains my interpretation of the cause of the Global Conflict. This is purely from my head, because they never say anything about it. 

*****

The war had started fast, and the brutality went beyond anything anyone could have imagined. There were multiple fractions, multiple countries clubbing together to fight for their best interests. Those in charge never thought the people though, never spared a thought for the most vulnerable. Her husband and brother had matched for them, had taken up the call to arms, not for president or country, not because they believed in the cause. No, they enlisted for the money, for the guarantee of a meal. They had been promised good pay, pay that would keep their family going in these uncertain times. The families would have been able to stay in their homes. Except her husband and brother had been killed within a week. The transport they were on had been shot down. Sasha had also lost her job when a bomb blew up the offices she worked in, not that it could have supported the family, now made up of her two daughters and now her parents. The rent on her small two bed apartment had been the cheapest so her parents moved in. It had been cramped, and the fear of more bombs kept everyone on edge.

Maybe that was why they had approached her, because they knew she would jump at the money. It matched the wages her husband would have made and more, it also came with a completion bonus, a massive completion bonus. Or maybe it was the shielding project she had been working on for the government. Or maybe it was just a bit of both. Not that it mattered why they chose her, what mattered was that they had, and she had accepted at the opportunity. She packed a suitcase, said goodbye to her family and moved to the warehouse. That's where she met Abdul, the designer of the mines. The mines she was to hide. He had shown her the plans, given her a tour of the production line, and then settled her in a small office. It took a while to get used to using a real pen and pencil, all the plans and documents being on paper. Better for security, was their response.  It made everything that much more challenging, but she needed to rise to it. Her family was depending on her. She couldn't let her children starve. Sasha had met the deadline, twisting her design to fit their needs. She impressed herself at how she managed to meet it, staying up late each night. Sasha hated the pleasure she got when it was approved, and the thrill of watching the first circuit boards being prepared and emitters being put together. Her work wasn't completed. She now had to focus on getting the control network coded and running in time for launch.

*****

The mine was both basic and complicated at the same time. Brains had managed to remove the explosives, which were now being stored safely and were ready to be handed over to the GDF. The rest of the mine was simple apart from the small box that housed the shielding. This box was what he scanned and dismantled. It was incredible in its intricacy and once he understood how it work, was amazed by the simplicity within its design. The mechanism was complicated, but that did not faze him, Brains enjoyed getting his mind stuck into a good puzzle. He scanned and inspected the components, MAX passing him tools as he went, even getting him a glass of water when Brains hadn’t realized he was even thirsty. He was so lost in thought over the problem. He tweaked his scanner again, trying to find any detectable frequency coming off the device. There had to be at least something! There was small blip in the readings and excitedly he fiddled with the settings, making the blip clearer. Even with the shielding activated, he could still detect the small frequency coming off the device. Brains smiled, setting to work on a scanner that he could install into Thunderbird Three, and could be used to locate any more of these mines that might still be hiding out there. It was their duty now, to make Earth’s orbit safe, as they would never know when another mine might be triggered. They couldn’t take the risk, especially with their own ship frequenting the area. It pained Brains to think such a fantastic piece of technology had been used in such a horrible way, but now he had the design, he could improve it and maybe put it to better use. He was going to compared it to Thunderbird Shadow’s stealth systems and maybe see of there was some crossover and improvements that could be made. He might even be able to give FAB1 an upgrade. With new possibilities and ideas forming, Brain’s set to work.

*****

Sasha worked flat out getting the first batch of fifty units out. She called them units, not wanting to admit to herself what she was really doing. At least these units won't be hurting her children. They were safe, or at least as safe as they could be. Not that she'd had any contact with them. Contact was prohibited. It was to keep what they were doing from the enemy, to stop them from finding out. This unnerved Sasha, but it was too late now. No going back. The control network was coming along well, and in a few days, it would be ready for action. There would be no trial, it would go straight to live. Desperate times call for desperate measures. They had to protect the supply line, it was what was best for the people, the government had said. She was doing this for the Motherland, Sasha tried to convince herself.

Between control network, she sorted out the program for the mines. They had tested the shield so at least that worked. The boxes that designated which ships were not targets were being produced elsewhere, to her design. The first fifty units were given the ID XQ, which she hated, so in the programming when she had to put in the ID at the start, she coded the name of her brother, Markoff. They may have taken her brother away from her, but at least, in this small way, he could take a few more of them back. The dead would fight again. Sasha took what little comfort she could from it. The Motherland had started the war, not wanting to give up their mining monopoly of the nearest asteroids. Some countries had been happy to negotiate, and trade agreements were made, others weren't so pleased with the deal and when negotiations failed, and words got heated, those words quickly became actions. Sanctions quickly came into place and tensions rose. Her community suffered. Her community had started to starve. So, the Motherland said they had to fight. This was how she was fighting. Thorough these mines she would protect her 'brothers and sisters'. These mines would make the enemy think twice.

Sasha lived in the dormitory with the other workers. Including her and Abdul, there were twenty-six of them in total. The machines ran at all hours and the others took shifts. Twelve on, twelve off. She got to know the day shift well, heard their stories, which were a mirror of hers. She remembered the names of those they had lost and wrote them down in her office. Each batch would have a different relative fighting back. Every mine containing the name of someone the war had taken. Someone who never wanted to fight. At the end of the week they were given a piece of paper and a pen, and they were allowed to write a letter home. Sasha jumped on the idea and told her girls how much she missed them and that she'd see them as soon as her job was complete. She had no idea if the letters made it home, but it was the only hope she had.

A week later she was informed of the success of the mines. Multiple enemy ships had been taken out and they had no idea where the mines came from; they hadn't seen it coming. They promised her a bonus. She would never know if she got it as her wages went straight into her father's account. She received data from the network and used it to update the software. The hardware was left to her colleagues as the next batch, this time it would be known as XS, and there would be a hundred made. The Motherland was taking space seriously. Sasha named it Mika after her colleague’s brothers who died in the first air raid on his town.

*****

Thunderbird Three responded like a dream, as always. Alan loved piloting her and was glad to be back in space again. A few twists and turns as he passed through yet another cloud of space debris, scanner on, searching for more bombs. Brain’s had worked out a way to not only scan them, but to mimic the original control network, so they didn’t activate. John suddenly floated beside him.

“You know you could pick up some of the other debris as you pass."

"John, I'm on a deadly mine hunt. I don’t have time for collecting trash."

John rolled his eyes. "Just be careful."

"I am careful!" Alan complained, as he twisted out the way of some more debris. The mine that had just been detected was now in full view. John disappeared and Alan targeted the old technology. He got it first time, and it joined the eight others he was dragging along. Alan continued to methodically fly the grid John had given him of the areas he needed to scout. This was going to take a few days to clear, but at least this beat doing schoolwork. Another mine located, Alan captured it and headed to the island with another ten mines for Brains to make safe.

Over the next three days Alan clear Earth’s orbit of mines, before finally setting his eye on the junk pile that the GDF monitored and maintained with a space laser. The GDF knew of their plan, and happily agreed to turn off the laser to help them complete it. They didn’t want any unknown mines in there that could activate and blow up at any time. Alan scanned the whole area before starting to pull a few mines out that had become buried in the heap. Some had taken a little more effort than others to get out, but he felt a great sense of achievement when he got the last one free. With six mines trailing him, he moved away from the area and called John.

“Mission complete, John. All bombs removed from orbit.” Alan finished the sentence with a yawn.”

“FAB Alan.” John chuckled slightly. “I’ll inform the GDF they can reactivate the laser.”

*****

She had been here for almost five months now, completely cut off from the outside world. The war was close to entering its seventh month and she had no idea how it was going. Her family didn’t know where she was, only that she was alive and safe, if her letters were getting through. She missed them terribly. Sasha’s arms ached for her girls. The desire to hold them close and hear their innocent chatter was strong. She just had to keep going. She’d see them when the work was complete.

The current batch was almost finished and was just waiting for her to upload the program to their drives and network. This was the largest volume yet; two hundred units. Two hundred units to be scattered around the Earth, on top of the hundreds already orbiting the planet. A shield for their ships. Protection of the deadliest kind. These were the XZ batch. All Sasha had to do was give them the name, pick a relative or friend to replace the unit ID. She had a list to choose from but none of them jumped out. She needed to name the batch, and soon.

Sasha was brought from her thoughts by an odd noise from the factory. She stood from her seat and headed out to see what was happening. There was another sound, coming from the other side of the factory. She passed between the machines that currently stood still. They had yet to be asked to make another batch. There had been talk amongst them of heading home. The sound came again. She continued, heading past the assembly area where the last of the units had been readied for transport. The sound came again, louder now and unnerving. Sasha paused. She stood beside the crate. There was no indication of what was in it except for the unit ID that was printed on the side ‘XZ-198’. A door, a short way away, opened and Sasha watched, holding her breath. Two Chinese soldiers stepped out: their guns ready. An older, obviously more senior, officer exited after them. The noises started to make sense and fear filled her heart.

“The last one is the other designer. She’ll be in her office” The senior one spoke with authority, “I will then grab the papers I require from. After that we load the last three crates and burn this place to the ground.”

There was no response from the other two, and Sasha didn’t wait around. As quickly and quietly as she could, she ran back towards the office and sped to the fire exit not far from it. She pushed the bar. The door didn’t open. Panic filled her as it dawned on her that they had locked her in. There was no escape. Her heart fell as she though of the promised bonus. It was never something she was ever going to see. It was compensation, for her family, so they could go on without her. She was never going to see her children again. A tear escaped her eye. She had orphaned her daughters. Sasha knew they would be raised well by her parents, but that would never heal the pain they were going to endure. Their last goodbye had been months ago, she hadn’t seen them since. It hadn’t been a proper goodbye. Another tear fell. Without another thought, she ran back to her desk and took her seat. She typed in the name she wanted to give this batch and hit upload. She watched as it connected to the network, becoming part of it before being downloaded to each and every mine. The bar slowly moved along. She turned at the sound of the door, her body shaking. The men walked in. The guns were pointed at the ground. The gunmen flanked the senior officer, who stared directly at her. A chill ran down her back.

“Has the program been upload into the mines successful?” The man demanded.

Sasha glanced at her screen. The bar was full and the word ‘complete was beside it.

“Yes.”

The man nodded. The guns were raised and pointed at her chest. Sasha took a trembling breath as the shots echoed around the room.

*****

Alan had to wait for Brains to inspect the mines and make then safe before a full debrief could be performed. This took a little over a week, as they had to do multiple runs to the local GDF base with the various components. The explosives in particular were hazardous as they were so old, but there had been no mishaps, and all had gone smoothly. Brains now stood before him in the lounge. Alan was sitting on the sofa with Scott and John hovered beside the images Brains was taking about.

“Alan, you recovered eighty-three s-stealth mines in t-total. All from various batches. The GDF was k-kind enough to give us all the detail they had on these, which helped with the search. It turns out that many had been detonated during the conflict, or j-just after when the newly formed GDF had to try clear them to make space travel s-safe again. These mines have taken thousands of lives, and the GDF are t-thankful in our help ensuring there are no more out there. Where they were manufactured and by whom was never discovered.”

“These people make me sick.” Alan said, his words filled with disgust. “What kind of sick people make hidden bombs and scatter them through space? How could they live with the amount of people they killed?”

“The Global Conflict happened during a difficult time, both sides did awful things, Alan.” Scott butted in, fully aware that Brains had memories of the war. Scott had been too young to remember what happened, but it had been frightening times. “Just be glad the peace was achieved relatively quickly, and the World Council was created.”

Alan sighed and crossed his arms. “I still think they are sick people.”

Alan saw Scott share a glance with John and shake his head out the corner of his eye. Just because they were older. They weren’t always right!

“What d-does baffle me is the naming system they used.”

“What so special about the naming system?” Alan asked. XZ-157 wasn’t that interesting to him.

“In the c-coding of each mine, right at the start where you’d expect the ID to be is a name. It appears that each ID has a different name attached to it. For example, the XS ones had Mika and the XV ones had Sonia. They are all single first names apart from the XZ ones, like the first on you found.

“What make the XZ one so special?”

“That I c-cannot say. The XZ had a full name of a real person. Sasha Lidia Rudin.”

“Who was she?”

“Sasha Rudin was a Russian software engineer who went missing during the Global conflict. She is presumed dead.”

“So, no one important then.” Alan fidgeted, hoping the debrief was almost over so he could go play some Cavern Quest with his friends.

“Everyone is important, Alan.” Scott spoke sternly. Alan just crossed his arms and slumped down in the seat. Alan could almost hear Scott roll his eyes.  

[weepylucifer]

Let’s Go in the Garden - Ch. 3

Peter wants validation, David wants his boyfriend and Nightingale probably just wants a drink at this point.

I felt weird just leaving that situation as it was and going off to Bev’s, but there didn’t seem to be anything else for me to do, and it was nearing evening, and I did confirm I was going to be there for dinner. Besides, if anything else weird happened, I was sure Molly could hold down the fort.

I told Beverley the whole story, and she was... well, she was entertained, I guess, but I could tell something was bothering her. I sat down with her on the couch, tucked her feet into my lap and started to rub her ankles - she didn’t deal with much in the way of morning sickness, and she wasn’t showing yet, but apparently her feet were swelling like mad and it drove her to distraction - but that didn’t seem to be it.

“There’s two of them now,” she said when I asked. “That’s weird. We only ever dealt with Nightingale, and he was the only one left, and it was okay, and you’re fine, but...”

“Hey, thanks,” I said.

“You know what I mean. You’re not like the Nightingale, and you know I mean that as a compliment. But this other guy, his boyfriend or whatever... he’s going to be very Old Folly, isn’t he?”

I thought that over. I tried to remember what I’d been told about Mellenby before, the few scraps I’d gotten in passing from Nightingale and Hugh Oswald, and how that measured up against my first impression of him. It was inconclusive; there was just very little information. “Can’t tell yet.”

Beverley rested her head on my chest. “Ty won’t be too happy.”

I kept my thoughts on that to myself.

-----

I was woken in the morning by my phone ringing. Bev turned over in bed with an annoyed grumble and swatted her hand in my direction in an entreaty to do something about the noise, so I picked it up. It was the Folly - not Nightingale, who had recently taken to actually using his cellphone for convenience’s sake, but the Folly’s landline. This got me slightly worried, so I answered it.

“Yeah?”

I was treated to complete silence on the other end. There wasn’t even the sound of breath, or if there was, it was very quiet.

My worry mounted, because why would anyone pick up the Folly’s ancient bakelite phone, dial my number and then stand there in silence? Who did that sort of thing?

Then I tried, “Molly?”

There was a small scraping sound, like someone was tapping a fingernail against the receiver.

“Molly, what’s up?”

Tap, tap. If she was trying to morse her concerns, she wasn’t doing a great job.

Beverley had woken up properly by now, and peeked out from under the blanket giving me a look of confusion.

“Do you want me to... should I come over?”

Tap, tap. Tap. It seemed to grow in urgency.

“What’s happening, have they burnt the house down?”

Scratch. Scratch.

“I’ll be on my way... I guess.”

-----

The Folly was still standing when I arrived there, but something was very much amiss. Foxglove was waiting for me by the back door, and she gave me a silent, deeply troubled look that boded ill as she gestured for me to go upstairs. I headed for the breakfast room - surely Molly would have prepared a whole spread, and I hadn’t eaten anything yet, and I reckoned I was sure to run into Nightingale there.

The tension in the room was so thick you could have cut it with a knife.

Mellenby’s eyes were red-rimmed, his face blotchy. Apart from that, he cleaned up pretty well, I noted: cleaned and parted at the side, his hair was curly, surprisingly so for a white guy. He was wearing a rather ancient dark blue suit that he’d probably left behind here before going off to war and all the rest; many rooms within the Folly had simply been sealed off with their former owners’ possessions all still inside, as if they might come back and use them again. That suit hung a little loosely on him; I suspected he’d lost weight in the war and never gained it back, having spent the last seventy-odd years in a magical stasis. He was tucking into his breakfast with good appetite, but sneaking furtive glances at Nightingale. Nightingale was staring resolutely in the opposite direction. Molly was serving them coffee in the most passive-aggressive manner I had ever seen her serve anything, and I’ve been on the receiving end of Molly’s ire a couple times.

It’s not my relationship drama, I decided. No need to get involved. I simply plonked myself down across from them and grabbed a piece of toast. “Morning.”

“Ah.” Nightingale looked up in a masterful imitation of someone just now noticing the other people in the room with them. “Good morning, Peter. You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t pass up Molly’s breakfast, sir.” Just then, Molly happened to swish by behind him, so I gave her a grin. She repaid me with an arched eyebrow and a perfectly normal cup of hot coffee for my trouble. It felt sort of good to be the only one present on Molly’s good side for once, especially as Mellenby winced after one sip of his coffee and even Nightingale frowned after trying it.

“Very mature, Molly,” he said. “What even did I do?”

Molly glared at him, and then towards the carpet covering most of the floor.

“Oh, really? Because I burnt one tiny hole into the Axminster? No one but us ever sees that rug.”

“Molly probably puts a lot of work into maintaining the carpets,” Mellenby said quietly. “Especially since there’s no other staff here now. Let’s try not to drag her into this.”

Nightingale picked up the Telegraph and rustled it pointedly. “Oh, now he’s the gentleman.”

Mellenby’s eyes narrowed. “What are you implying, Thomas?”

“Can any of you pass the scrambled eggs?” I asked, still not getting involved.

Their hands bumped together as they both tried to reach for the plate first. (I steadfastly refused to roll my eyes.) Mellenby’s cuff hiked up a bit and I could catch a glimpse at a kind of cast-iron wristlet he now wore. I’d seen this before on Varvara. Did this technology really come from the Nazis?

He must have seen me looking, because he fiddled with it. “...Just wish you’d take this off me, is all,” he said sullenly.

“Not until the lab results are in.” Feigning perfect calm with only middling success, Nightingale picked up his pen and turned to the crossword. He took another sip of his coffee and for a second looked like he’d bitten on a lemon.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” I said, looking up from my eggs. “What is Molly pissed about, sir?”

“It’s nothing,” Nightingale said. “Events... may have transpired and I might have dropped some ash off a cigarette and lightly singed the carpet in the reading room last night, is all.”

I risked a half-grin. “Events?”

He shot me a look communicating he had seen and interpreted my facial expression and just so’s I knew, he resented the implication.

“There was a... somewhat heated discussion,” Mellenby cut in. (Meaning they’d been fighting rather than fucking.)

“Heated is not quite the word I’d use,” Nightingale said.

“Not quite? Thomas, it’s a miracle your voice isn’t hoarse this morning.”

“Enough of that.” Nightingale tapped his pen against the newspaper - he still hadn’t gotten started on the crossword yet. “Peter, when you’re done I’d like you to head downstairs and get some practice in while we wait for Abdul to call.”

I nodded and hummed something affirmative around a mouthful of food. Across the table, Mellenby’s face lit up.

“Oh, may I be of assistance?” he asked. “I always wanted-”

“No.” Nightingale lowered the paper. “I would rather read your exhaustive treatise on quantum theory - or whatever it was called - again than permit you to interfere with Peter’s studies in any manner.”

There was a second of quiet as we all digested that statement. Even Molly, who had been about to leave the room with some of the empty plates, stopped and stood in apprehension of what was to come, her shoulders rigid and drawn up almost to her ears.

Then Mellenby muttered, “I thought you liked that study.”

At last, Nightingale began filling in his bloody crossword. “No, it was dead boring.”

“It was my life’s work anyhow,” Mellenby said quietly. “Even if you never understood it.”

“And we both know where your life’s work led us.” Nightingale tossed the paper down onto the tabletop, where it landed with a thwack. “Your dangerous nonsense must not be encouraged, and I will especially not allow it to distract Peter.”

I wasn’t really loving being discussed in such a way, like I wasn’t right there at the breakfast table with them. It felt like being five again. But honestly, I would only get mad about that later. Right that moment, I was way too busy staring at them in rapt attention as they argued.

“Please, Thomas, don’t!” Mellenby got out of his seat looking hurt, looking slighted, and I knew he was going to cry again. “How can you say these things! You never used to... what happened to you? What happened to the man I fell in love with?”

I genuinely couldn’t believe what I was witnessing. Reader, holy fuck.

Nightingale also rose to his feet. “That was a hundred years ago, David. A lot has happened since then, some of which you even had the good grace to be present for. I was in a war, for starters, you might remember it.”

“Oh, I might remember it?” Up to this point, Mellenby had seemed soft, and sad, and apologetic. Now I could see he was getting peeved. “I came home from said war three weeks ago, and I slept for a while, and now here you are telling me a new century has dawned. I did not experience the eighty years since then, I have not had the luxury of time to heal all wounds.”

Nightingale’s eyes widened. His fist met the table, making me flinch and all the dishes rattle. “The luxury?” he asked. “The fucking luxury?!”

I had never heard him raise his voice like that outside of active combat. It broadsided me, but not as much as the f-bomb.

I got up and quickly downed the rest of my normal coffee, even if it was too hot and I singed by tongue a little. “I’ll be at the firing range, yeah? If you need me.” Then I made my escape, right past Molly, whom I tried to give a supportive and encouraging smile. I don’t think they heard me at all. I was halfway down the hallway when the first china dish shattered.

-----

Nightingale joined me at the firing range later, as I was just getting done chucking a few fireballs at my least favorite target. I don’t mean to brag, but I was pretty happy with how they were coming along in terms of speed and strength. Against a tank, my chances were probably still slim, but I was certain I was getting there. When I say ‘joined me’ I mean I ducked aside as Nightingale pulverized a few targets with uncharacteristic aggression. Soon we’d have to get new ones again.

“You’re making progress,” he said, and internally I preened a bit at the rare compliment.

“Thank you, sir,” I replied in a sufficiently casual and manly voice. “You just got done breaking dishes up there?”

He sighed. “I didn’t mean to break a cup. I’ll have to apologize to Molly later, and about the carpet as well while I’m at it. He’s right, we shouldn’t drag her into this, she’s done more than enough for us.”

I didn’t have to ask who he was. “Is it... wrong that I kind of do want to talk to him about his quantum theories?”

Nightingale gave me an impressive scowl. “When your apprenticeship ends,” he said, “you’re free to experiment in any way you see fit, even, I suppose, with David’s nonsense. But as long as I have a say in it, I would encourage you to master the correct use of the formae before you go on tweaking them and utilizing them for all sorts of frivolities. We must become familiar with the function of a thing before we can take it apart. Even David always used to hold to that.”

I nodded. I hadn’t really been expecting much else. “But what if he knows something that would be immediately useful? In a tight spot, I mean, or for a case.”

Nightingale looked at me, a little too wide-eyed. “I should hope not,” he said. “David ended up devoting most of his... inventiveness to the war effort. Not only would I empathically loathe to equip you with any of the nasty little spells he came up with, and dearly hope you wouldn’t find yourself in a situation fit to use them, but you would not enjoy possession or knowledge of them. Besides, it has been quiet.”

It was true, it had been rather quiet since Lesley had left me handcuffed to Martin Chorley’s corpse. She hadn’t been in contact lately, and she proved all but impossible to find. She might have left town, there was no way to tell. Besides, would I want to use a ‘nasty little spell’ on Lesley May? I’d rather not be faced with that choice, and I reckoned Nightingale knew that.

“We’re talking some sort of... battle magic,” I guessed.

“Close-combat practice, is what we said.” Nightingale crossed his arms, as if having to shield himself against a sudden cold. “Battle magic makes it sound so... heroic. I wouldn’t have you romanticize it, yes, it was mostly ways to kill. Multiple targets at a broader scope. Single targets at wider ranges, snipers and the such. At close range, quickly and painlessly, slowly while causing pain. The works. Many of these creations were volatile and messy, tenth-order or higher disasters. Nothing I’d want any apprentice of mine to learn.”

I frowned. I found I really, really didn’t want to think on ‘slowly while causing pain’. “A tenth-order spell on a battlefield? Who does that?”

“I,” Nightingale said simply. It wasn’t to showcase his talent. His voice was hollow, his eyes far-off and dull, looking back at something not here, something I was fairly glad I wasn’t seeing. “David was lucky to have me on hand.”

“Were you together through the whole of it?”

“Well, most of it. We did what we could to ensure we’d stay together, and command knew we made an effective team.”

I decided what the hell, I’d just go for it. I was curious. Mellenby had just been chucked into my life, no one had deigned to explain anything to me, and I wanted information. “You guys were in love love, huh?”

Nightingale huffed. “Quite. How would you like to try a new forma?”

It was a blatant attempt at distraction. A part of me wanted to fall for it. “How did that work?” I asked anyway.

“Clandestinely.” Nightingale rolled up his sleeves. “Why don’t we step over into the lab?”

We had just about gotten around to that when Molly appeared in the doorway, handing Nightingale his phone. If she still held a grudge about a broken cup, she didn’t show it, but she maybe handed the phone over a bit more coolly than usual.

“Oh, it must be Abdul with the test results. Thank you, Molly.” Nightingale answered the phone. What ensued was one of these situations where I stood there listening to Nightingale’s side of the conversation and entertained myself by mentally trying to fill in the gaps on Walid’s end. Which wasn’t all that easy, because Nightingale mostly said “Yes” and “Hm” and “No, that’s perfectly alright with me”.

“Well, the results are in,” he told me after he’d hung up. “They’re about what you’d expect.”

“So... he’s a completely normal human person?” I ventured.

Nightingale nodded. “Still, we should visit the cemetary, to make sure.”

It’s like you don’t want it to actually be him, I thought. What’s with that? I didn’t say it out loud. One does not simply psychoanalyze one’s boss. What I ended up asking was, “I thought the signare check was already foolproof?”

“To the best of our knowledge, it is,” Nightingale admitted. “But I’d like to tie up all loose ends here.” He sighed and leaned against one of the desks, and for a moment he looked... well, he never looks his age, but he looked weary, for a second. “Is that reasonable?” he asked. “I like to think I’m comporting myself reasonably, generally. But when it comes to this situation, I have my doubts.”

I opted for what I thought was safest. “That’s for you to judge, sir.”

“I appreciate your genuine insight, Peter,” Nightingale said. And sure, he looked past me at the ceiling as he said it, but it still totally counted.

I guess I must have looked or sounded surprised when I replied, “Do you, sir?” because he gave me a peculiar glance and said, “Yes, of course. You’ve had some very sound ideas while I’ve had you here. Your efforts are bringing the Folly into the modern world in a way I could never have executed and would never have thought to. Surely you must know that.”

“Sir,” I said neutrally.

“Oh, come now,” Nightingale insisted. “I must have told you that at some point.”

I cleared my throat. “Usually you say I’m easily distracted and accident-prone.” I grinned and tried to make it sound like a little inside joke between us, light-hearted banter, nothing serious. Nothing I was taking seriously. It probably came out wrong, and I felt silly about it.

Nightingale fiddled with his collar, looking almost a bit sheepish. “I have perhaps not been the most forthcoming in terms of positive feedback.”

He didn’t have to say it, but I knew he wasn’t a natural teacher. He hadn’t wanted to be, and it didn’t come easily to him. But he’d been - he was - the only one for the job. It really wasn’t worth dwelling on. “Here’s some honest insight, sir,” I said, “maybe the magical handcuffs are a bit much.”

“I don’t think they are,” Nightingale said. So much for incorporating my opinions. “We should not have a fully trained practitioner with David’s creativity and expertise running around unchecked whom we cannot fully trust.”

“Can we not fully trust your boyfriend, sir?” I asked straight out, and Nightingale shook his head.

“He’s not my... he was that. It was a while ago.”

“Then what is he?”

Nightingale took a second to mull that over. “He’s... his status is pending,” he said. “Now, I believe I was about to show you a new forma, so please focus.”

[emma-nation]

Bloodline - KamilahxMC Fanfiction (Chapter 2)

Summary: A Feral attack, a mysterious serum and a big mistake… what consequences will it bring to Kamilah’s life and her relationship with Amy?

Rating: T 

Notes: Since I got an impressive feedback on this fic, I decided to make it a little bit longer. I hope you enjoy it :)

KamilahxMC Tag List: @iam-the-fuckin-queen, @annabellewerecorgi, @voltos9, @scorpistraub, @leavemeandmyshipsalone, @jen825, @andreear17, @spacecarrousel, @justejuste727, @aureliaxj, @graceschoices, @sleeping-with-her06, @supersphynxsworld, @gavryllo, @galaxyside-0, @msuhailey, @zoe6111, @ptxgirwaffles, @tigerbryn11, @shanuuh, @ilovetaylor13m, @honorablebicycle, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @begging-for-kamilah, @kennaxval, @fal-carrington

The Conversation - Present Days, 10 PM

“It’s impossible. In every possible manner.”

The words Kamilah told Adrian continued to occupy her thoughts for the rest of the day. She didn’t say much or expressed any reaction at his office, instead she went to Ahmanet Financial, where she had a busy day of work.

When she was finally alone again, she grabbed all the tests results, that were safely locked inside a drawer, and read each one them carefully one more time.

Positive for pregnancy. At 2064 years of life she was expecting a child. A child conceived in the most impossible circumstances. The result of Adrian’s lack of attention and caution.

“Ms. Sayeed,” Erin showed up at her office by the end of her shift, “do you need anything?”

“No, Erin. Thank you, you can just go home now.”

On her cell phone, dozen of missed calls from Adrian. Kamilah didn’t want to speak to him yet. Not before settling down her thoughts. He insisted by sending her a text, where he told he would like to talk to her and conduct more exams.

In any stressful situation, she’d open a bottle of wine, or another alcoholic drink and go to her rooftop to relax. However, even convinced she couldn’t actually be carrying a child, drinking just didn’t feel right.

At her rooftop, Kamilah opened the small fridge, grabbing one of the multiple blood bags she had stocked. Being so insatiable as she was, it wasn’t safe to feed directly from mortals.

She had just started drinking, when someone came out from her personal elevator. Amy.

“Hey, I dropped by for a visit,” she told. “I heard you’re not doing well and that you’ve been at Adrian’s lab for tests.”

“Gossip,” Kamilah rolled her eyes. Of course Adrian employees had to spread the word around. She wondered what else they knew. If they knew everything.

“Agreed, but…” Amy sat down by her side, placing a hand on top of hers. “You don’t look well. Is there anything going on, Kamilah?”

She sighed. How would Amy react to that conversation? After all, she was the second parent to this baby. She definitely wasn’t ready. Amy was just a girl who could barely take care of herself. Who was she supposed to look after a child?

“There is. And it’s crazy, absurd and completely impossible.”

“I’m listening. But you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“I have to,” Kamilah firmly said, looking into her eyes. “Amy, I’m pregnant.”

There was an uncomfortable and awkward moment of silence until Amy let out a small laugh.

“You’re kidding… right? I mean, this is a prank Lily convinced you to play on me.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

“Oh.”

“It’s resulted from Adrian’s mistake,” Kamilah explained. “The anti-Feral serum combined with his research project caused a mutation in my body.”

“Who’s the father?” Amy asked, a little bit scared. “Is it Adrian’s? Oh my god, he didn’t use any of Gaius blood in this research, did he?”

The last question made Kamilah stomach twist again. Those words made her feel more sick than she had been for the last two days.

“No, Adrian combined my blood with yours in his research project. It means half of this child’s DNA is yours.”

Amy looked at her in disbelief again.

“Kamilah, be honest with me. How much alcohol have you had recently?”

“Amy,” Kamilah scowled, “considering my current situation, I suppose alcohol isn’t something that should go down my throat.”

She handed Amy the tests results. The girl’s eyes went wide in surprise.

“Oh my god,” Amy silenced for a moment, before burying her face in her hands, “oh my god… oh my god…”

“I understand how you’re feeling,” Kamilah cautiously placed her hand on Amy’s back. “I feel the same. I never wanted to be a mother. Not as a mortal and even more as vampire. I can’t possibly raise a child. I have no time to raise a child.”

Tears started falling down from Amy’s eyes. This time Kamilah couldn’t tell how she was feeling. If she was excited, miserable or only disturbed by the news.

“Jesus,“ she shook her head in denial. "I’m going to be a dad. How do I even explain this to my family?”

“Don’t say that again. It sounds creepy.”

Between sobs, Amy let out a small laugh. Kamilah couldn’t help smiling too.

“This is so crazy and ridiculous… how’s that even possible?”

“I’ve been questioning the same,” Kamilah relaxed on her seat. “Listen, Amy. I thought you deserved to know the truth, but in case you don’t wish to have any involvement in the situation, I understand.”

Amy sighed long and deeply before giving her an answer.

“Kamilah, I never expected to be a mother so soon in my life, but since it has happened, I’m glad it got to be with you.”

“With me?!” Kamilah asked.

“Yes,” Amy leaned her head on the female vampire’s shoulder. “Someone so amazing and special. Someone… someone I love.”

“I love you too, even if I don’t say that often.”

“I know.”

Amy softly pressed a kiss on her lips. When she finished her hand was laying on Kamilah’s stomach.

“I don’t even know yet if there’s actually a child in there,” Kamilah told. “Adrian needs more testing.”

“Remember when we promised we’d be facing anything together?” Amy embraced her tightly. “We’ll do this. No matter how it ends.”

———-

The Confirmation - Present Days, 7 PM

Kamilah took the day off and spent it in Amy’s company at her penthouse. After agreeing she should meet Adrian again, they didn’t comment on the pregnancy subject again. They avoided anything regarding it. The entire day, they watched movies, cuddled and Kamilah even agreed to play one of Amy’s favorite games. Anything to keep her mind distracted.

For her own relief, she didn’t feel any sickness, though her hunger was still out of control. Maybe there was a chance the tests were wrong and her body was going back to normal.

At night, they both met Adrian in his laboratory, where he waited with an advanced technology equipment to conduct a screening test on Kamilah. She laid on her back, while he scanned her abdomen. Amy watched everything apprehensively.

Adrian’s employees helped with the procedure, often glancing at each other and pointing to the screen. Noticing how uncomfortable Kamilah felt, Amy squeezed her hand.

A strange sound started echoing all over the room from the machines. It was quick and strong, but somehow peaceful and relieving. Kamilah could listen to that for hours. It was literally the only thing that made her feel make relaxed after the discovery.

“What is that?” She asked, curious.

“Your baby’s heartbeats,” Adrian explained.

"Such a beautiful sound,” Amy said, starting to get a little bit emotional.

Kamilah started thinking of her parents and Lysimachus. Maybe life was giving her a second chance of having a family and to redeem herself from all the suffering she caused in the past. Yet, it didn’t make her feel any better. There was her Ahmanet Financial, that required a lot of her time. She spent more time in her office than at her penthouse, often having to travel around the world.

And there was Amy. They hadn’t been together for so long. Forcing her to such a responsibility, so early in her life, didn’t seem fair.

———-

The Discussion - Present Days, 8:30 PM

After the exam was over, Adrian called them both to his office.

“Indeed,” Adrian told. “There’s a fetus growing inside your womb and… he shows a normal development for this stage. All human features, such as forming organs, skin and bones.”

“He?” Amy asked in surprise.

“It has been detected the presence of an Y chromosome. It’s a male fetus.”

Kamilah couldn’t say a single word. She was having a son. A boy. Her brother quickly returned to her thoughts. Lysimachus would have loved to be an uncle.

“Kamilah?” Adrian’s expression was dark and serious. “I tried to reproduce this very same mutation in the laboratory, but I obtained no reaction. There must be a third factor involved, that made the mutation result in a pregnancy.”

“I honestly have no idea of what you’re talking about,” Kamilah said. “I’ve been trying to understand it myself.”

“Was Amy the only person you had sexual intercourse with?”

“Of course.”

Kamilah wasn’t sure if her raging hormones were speaking louder, but the manner Adrian started to ask questions annoyed her a little bit.

“And how did that happened?” He proceeded with the interrogation. “Was there anything different about it?”

“It’s getting a little too personal, don’t you think?” Kamilah complained. After being exposed to his employees to gossip, the last thing she needed was to expose her intimacy.

“That’s okay,” Amy interrupted. “After you switched the samples, we… we did it. A lot of times actually. The night Kamilah was injected that sample, it was pretty wild. And the next few days too. We were really… in the mood, if you know what I mean.”

“Amy, this is enough.”

“I see,” Adrian stopped asking questions and grabbed a few papers in his desk. He also handed her a pen. “I need you to sign this, Kamilah. Before we perform the procedure.”

“What is that?” Amy wanted to know.

Kamilah read it fast, but cautiously. It was some sort of responsibility term, where she agreed to go under a procedure to remove the fetus and allow Adrian’s company to study him later.

“It’s the safest for all of us,” he told Amy. “This child was generated from blood of the Tree Of Eternal Life. Nothing good can come from that tree. He’d be like a Third Son.”

“Are you suggesting we should kill him?”

“Amy, a Vampire pregnancy never happened in history. We don’t even know if he’s going to develop properly. I mean, Vampires don’t age. Is he going to be a baby forever or he’ll stop aging in adulthood, when his body is fully mature?”

“I don’t care,” Amy raised her voice. “If he has been developing until now, why won’t he, after he’s born?”

“This will be a threat for all the humanity, Amy,” Adrian raised his voice even louder. “He’ll be just like Rheya, Gaius or Xenocrates.”

“Didn’t you just said there was a third factor involved in the conception? It was the love between Kamilah and I. He was conceived through love!”

“You’re being delusional. Neither Gaius or Xenocrates ever knew what love was! They had a twisted vision of it.”

“And apparently neither do you, Adrian! K-Kamilah, you… you can’t possibly be considering signing it. I won’t sign it! I won’t let you do this!”

The argument started to get even more loud and heated. Amy’s cry and Adrian shouts started to enter deeply into Kamilah’s ultrasensitive ears. Her annoyance became anger and she exploded.

“Stop! Stop before I lose my mind,” She yelled at Adrian. “Can’t you see it, Adrian? Everytime you develop a hyperfixation, people get hurt. And there’s never turning back.”

“Kamilah, you are out of your mind,” Adrian argued. “The Kamilah I know would never risk causing harm to the humanity because of a stupid mistake.”

“A stupid mistake? Tell me, Adrian. Are you asking me to take my son’s life? Deny him the chance of living, like somebody did to Charles?”

Her words had found a mark. She touched in the most sensible subject in Adrian’s life. He stared at her in silence, his expression getting even darker.

“Charles wasn’t a monster. He didn’t deserve to die.”

Kamilah’s eyes flared red and she snapped out of her control, advancing in Adrian’s direction. She pinned him against the wall, ready to sink her hand inside his chest.

“Kamilah, please,” Amy held her arm, crying non-stop. “D-Don’t do this. I’m begging you. You’ll never forgive yourself…”

She was right. Kamilah took a deep breath and recomposed herself, letting Adrian go.

“Let’s go home, Amy,” she grabbed her purse and headed to the door. “This is a decision we’ll make together.”

She was already at the corridor, but she could hear Adrian’s final words.

“He’s already controlling you.”

———-

The Decision - Present Days, 11 PM

On their way home, neither Kamilah or Amy said anything to each other. They were both on the extreme of their nerves. After a relaxing bath, Kamilah ordered them a meal, but they barely touched the food.

She laid in bed, willing to get some sleep, but it seemed impossible. Both sides of the argument weighted inside her mind. Amy could be right, without their love, this child would never exist. But Adrian could also have a point. Nothing good ever came from the Tree Of Eternal Life.

Amy joined her in bed, resting her head on Kamilah’s stomach. She looked down and smiled, ruffling the girl’s soft blonde hair.

“You already love him, don’t you?”

“I do. It’s hard to explain, but I already feel a connection with him.”

“Natural. He’s a Vampire, you’re a Bloodkeeper. Somehow you can make this connection.”

“Kamilah…” the girl looked at her with eyes filled with tears, “I know it’s your decision to make, but it doesn’t have to be that way. We’re going to raise him, educate him… he won’t be a monster.”

“It’s our decision to make, Amy,” Kamilah corrected her. “For a second, I understood Adrian’s point of view. But then I remembered this baby is yours too. If he has even half of your kindness, even half of your heart, I know we’ll be safe.”

“Does it mean…”

Amy’s face lighted up in a huge smile. Kamilah pressed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“We’re having a baby boy, Amy.”

[residentofthedisc]

Tocktick - Our Two Villains Meet by ResidentoftheDisc/H.M

Norris sat seething in the corner of the Branded Crow, his third pint untouched and a stolen newspaper spread across the table.

The headline was, of course, sensationalist and mildly confusing – DEVITT DOMINATES with a byline admitting, NEW ENGINE CATAPULTS CREW TO NEXT ROUND – while the article penned underneath was a more restrained summary of that day’s leg of the Throgmorton race and the author’s tentative predictions on this new piece of technology. He glared at the third lumograph down, ignoring the image of a triumphant Devitt lifting the flag and the one showing the Elmstone siblings fixing their sails, seeing a shot of Talas, Maia, and Emmett standing by the engine. Emmett looked uncomfortable, his face-half turned away and blurred.

No need for that, Norris thought scornfully. I don’t have any proof. 

He knocked back his pint, slamming it on the table with enough force that a few of the drunks slumped against the bar looked around. Dark hells, twenty years wasn’t enough to forget the face which had gotten him fired – Emmett Askren was Juan St Ciel, he was sure of it.

It was odd. He hadn’t thought of the youth beyond occasional night-time self-pitying sessions for nigh on a decade and a half now. But one look at his face and it had all come rushing back. The glow of triumph at getting to kill two birds with one stone was enough to excite him into action – stop Katsaros from putting a dent in Gorge’s considerable profits and bring down an elusive past ghost.

Then he remembered that he had no papers, no people who still recalled the man in question. His old bosses were long-dead, the institution in question abandoned and across two oceans. No one cared.

Except him, of course.

His hands were itching. He wanted to hit something, someone for just looking at him funny. He scowled at the other patrons, wondering who would last longest in a fight. None of them looked promising; slug-like middle-aged dockworkers, a few chirpy and withered grandmothers, youths with brittle limbs and prematurely lined faces.

By the Sunlight God’s arse, he hated this place. All the fight had been beaten out of it years ago. A kind of grey inevitability reigned over the inhabitants. The crime consisted of drug-addicts and smugglers rather than any firebrand riots. Barfights here and there, attacks on native and Empire-imported inhabitants by the opposing sides, but there was no real spark to it. It was like the islands permanently had developed low-grade tension headaches. It wasn’t fun.

The tavern door swung open. The entire room’s – including Norris’ – attention flickered towards it. They all stayed there. Norris frowned slightly.

The man who strode inside was tall, about sixty-five or so years of age, with a neatly trimmed white moustache, beard and swept-back hair. He carried a black cane, but he moved like a dancer, perfectly aware of where he was in the space. The smoke and dirt had settled deeply into his jacket – it had probably been an ivory sort of colour once, but it was now an unpleasant shade of brown. His boots were high-quality and foreign; Eastern by Norris’ guess.

He was also maddeningly familiar.

Either ignoring or oblivious to the stares, the man strode straight up to the bar and flashed a smile at the barkeep. Dipping a hand into his pocket, he spoke in a voice too low for Norris to hear and then produced a rectangular lumograph card. He slid it across the bar – paying no attention to the man next to him peering over his shoulder.

The barkeep made a show of looking it over, but Norris knew that he would disavow all knowledge of the image’s subject. There was a reason that the Helionites’ luminary of protection was also the guardian of those behind the bar.

Not that it was religiously motivated here, he thought scornfully, self-preservation was the saying of the day.

The barkeep shook his head and silently gestured to the taps. The hand held up in response was white and too fine-boned for his frame; if this man had ever done manual labour it had been a lifetime ago.

Then he lifted his cane and rapped it carefully but firmly on the wood of the bar.

It was completely unnecessary. He was the most fascinating thing in the building. The gazes only became open.

Norris sat back in his chair, fingers flat on the table, waiting.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” the voice was velvet and ridiculously affable, “I request merely a few minutes of your time to assist me with a most important matter.”

A speech like that should have gotten a bottle smashed over his head immediately, but the situation was so unusual, so odd that the tavern was held back in their chairs and captivated. It probably helped that his accent was Eddorian – another small country swallowed by the Empire years before – and therefore not the voice of their brutish overlords, but the sound of another subjugated ally seeking assistance. In the hierarchy of the oppressed, Eddor was not high on the list having surrendered quickly and been permitted to keep much of their culture due to it being so similar to the Empire. But it was still a colony and that meant a form of trust among the Islanders.

Norris was rather proud of himself for the observation, but not so much that he didn’t listen intently to the man’s next words.

“I am buying the next round,” the proclamation was met with owlish silence, “And as you collect your drinks, I will show you a lumograph. I request that you look it over most carefully. And if you know anything about the man – anything at all from having glimpsed him in the street to him being your missus’ lodger – I bid that you tell me. I will pay a sixpence for each truthful piece of information you give.”

The edge to truthful was the flash of a hound’s fang before it growled.

No one moved. A sixpence to Norris was a measly sum – to an Islander it was a good week’s labour, but their pride would not allow them to take payment for informing on someone who (for all they knew) was an enemy of the Empire.

The man regarded the crowd carefully, hand curling tightly about the cane. For a heartbeat, his expression was of frustrated bemusement before the warm smile crept back.

He laid his free hand on his heart and said, “I have come upon my own accord and no one else’s. This a matter of personal import. I am not – and never have been – affiliated with this nation’s government.”

There was some half-hearted shuffling of the patrons once they had figured out the word affiliated. They formed a dense queue, each person staring down at the lumograph before indicating an answer to the man’s question. Once the brief conversations were done, a mug was pressed into their hands, generously filled with beer.  

Norris didn’t move from his seat, attention locked on the stranger’s face. He kept his friendly mask fixed firmly in place, but his stance became tenser as the line grew shorter.

He was evidently not getting the answers he was seeking.

As the last patron turned away to enjoy their reward, the man’s gaze fell on Norris. He pushed off the bar and strode over, made invisible by his gift of alcohol.

Norris made a show of studying the newspaper as the man sat down at his table. He heard the whisper of card as it was pushed across the wood.

“Take a look, please.”

Norris did not look up. “Are you going to increase the price?” he asked, “How much is this man worth to you?”

“A lot.” The voice was low, and he heard a discordant note in it. It wasn’t anger, but he had the man’s attention; whether he was willing to play Norris’ surly game was a different matter altogether.

“Hm.” He stared unseeingly down at the paper, waiting to see what the man would do.

“But I wouldn’t insult you by offering more money,” the man continued quietly, “However, I would ask that you look.”

Sighing heavily, Norris did. The image showed a male – maybe in his late fifties, early sixties – sat easily in a chair half-smirking at the lumeretta. He had a compact build, not-quite round face with wide-set eyes, and a mane of hair too long for a fashion-conscious Empire man. The lumograph had the usual muddy shade to it, so he couldn’t make out what kind or colour the shirt was save that it was not dark.

He was ready to turn away and disavow all knowledge when he realised that he did recognise the man in question. There was something about the mouth, the insolent smile struck a shard into his memory.

But he couldn’t grasp it from the mire. Norris sucked his teeth and then stopped, realising that the stranger was reading him like a book.

“You know him.” It wasn’t a question. The fangs were extending again.

Norris drummed his fingers on the table and decided to be truthful. “There’s something I recognise,” he began, “But I cannot recall what it is. But I have seen him. And recently.”

The swirl of emotions in the man’s eyes was gone too quickly for him to read. Norris leant back in his chair, interlocking his hands. He gazed coolly upwards.

“Do I get a sixpence?” he asked.

The man smiled. He fished inside his jacket and brought out a small embossed card. “Better,” he replied, “Here. If you do recall anything of note, please either come or write to this address. You’ll receive more than just a sixpence.”

“A whole crown, perhaps?” He did not keep the sarcasm from his tone.

The man inclined his head, acknowledging him. “Perhaps.”

He made to stand, tucking the lumograph into his jacket pocket. 

@queer-crusader @rebelqueenofthediscovery @cogesque

[bluesunsdusk]

Doctor Harold Winston was a fool for believing that the experiments on Horizon would result in anything more than disaster. They should have scrapped the experiments while they had the chance.

Talk shit about someone my Muse knows.

Could be a friend, a loved one, maybe even an enemy! Try to provoke some sort of action out of them! Can be done on or off anon.

--// I was enjoying a popsicle... then bullying the queen... and you brought me this... Tumblr did not tell me about this... ))

Sigma had been having a fine day—as fine as any day in Talon could be—working over notes he’d made in a less...capable state and trying to piece together what he’d been trying to say, resting one leg over the other and bouncing his foot up and down while occasionally tapped a pen against his lip. Even when the source of the chaos in these notes was unpleasant to consider, untangling messes and seeking answers were what brought him life and helped him escape the troubles of modern society. 

It didn’t help him escape this, however. 

In fact, the simple mention of Dr. Winston’s name pulled Sigma’s full attention. He could feel a shift deep within him, breaking the fog that most often lingered in his mind as it, too, turned. A sadness stirred in him at being reminded of it.

Sigma’s heart sank when he heard the rest of the sentence, however, his expression growing grim. Though, it lasted but a moment. These were things he himself had thought after... 

He swallowed and turned his face away. 

Anger towards a loved one after their death was not uncommon. Though, he had questioned the experiments before then. He understood Horizon One was an experiment to test prolonged extraterrestrial habitation, but the rest of it... Everyone should have known putting these specimens into a confined space and enhancing them would have ended poorly. There were a number of less risky specimens to choose from. 

Not to say that his own work wasn’t risky as well. Were things different, it could have been Harold who cursed him for his recklessness. Though, he personally felt his work was far more needed. It had both already realized and possible future practical applications on earth—hover technology, alternative energy sources, propulsion systems. Horizon One’s increased in-facility gravitational pull had come from his work.

The colony worked on something far less immediately required. In fact, not required. They should have been allowed more prudence, more time to prepare. Perhaps, the promise of it being simply for the sake of exploration was all a...a lie, and those in charge feared that an evacuation of the planet may be unavoidable in the future... 

Though, Harold was no fool. Naive, perhaps, but no fool. He was brilliant, vibrant. His voice would fill a room and inspire a camaraderie in his people, inspire hope in those who needed it, brighten dark days. Even as he helped advance humanity’s steps towards far stars, he hoped for humanity on earth. To many, he was an inspiration, but Siebren knew him as more, he knew him as a person. He still grieved him as a person...

He never got to say goodbye. 

Sigma blinked a few times, pressing his lips together, before turning his head to face this person once again.

“They should have,” he softly admitted with a single nod.

[duhragonball]

Dragon Ball GT Retrospective (7/7)

[Note: I wrote this on January 16, 2013.  Originally, I had embedded a video of Goku Junior slapping his bare ass for like ten hours, but it’s down now :(   Such is life.)

Well, I know I said I finished watching Dragon Ball GT, but there's one last thing in the box set: Dragon Ball GT: The Movie

This actually isn't what it sounds like.  I'm pretty sure the "movie" was actually a TV special, and it didn't really have much at all to do with the characters or plotlines of GT.   Really, it's more of an epilogue tale of the future, set one hundred years after the events in Dragon Ball GT.   Of course, GT was set some forty years after the beginning of the first Dragon Ball storyline, so it seems like a jump too far.   From what I understand, the original plan was to wrap up the GT series with the end of the Baby Saga, but something happened and they ended up making another twenty-odd episodes.  In between all that, they had this GT special set up, probably as a final sendoff to all things Dragon Ball.   This was somewhat undermined by flashing a hundred years back for Super 17 and Shadow Dragon Sagas, but in the final episode of GT, they flashed forward yet again to tie the series finale with the special.   So, the premise of the special is pretty straightforward.  One hundred years after Baby's defeat, Goku and everyone else from Dragon Ball is dead.  The only one left is Pan, who's looking pretty spry for a a centenarian.  Actually, I'm not sure 100 years was the best time frame to use.   Goku's master, Master Roshi, was already three hundred years old when Dragon Ball started, and he survived all the way to the end of GT, never really aging much.  The implication was that his lifetime of martial arts training somehow allowed him to unnaturally extend his lifespan, but it was never actually explained.   Further, we never really found out what the lifespan of a Saiyan is.  Goku and Vegeta aged very little across the timeline of DBZ/DBGT, and Vegeta explained that Saiyans have a much longer physical prime than humans do.   Humans like.... Master Roshi?   I don't think anyone really put a lot of thought into this, probably because no one ever seriously planned to cover the world of DragonBall that far into the future.   Even if we knew how long Saiyans and humans can normally live in that universe, the Saiyan-human hybrid characters would still be an x-factor.   I guess what I'm trying to say here is that we really can't tell what keeps Granma Pan so fit.  Is it because she's one-quarter Saiyan?  Is it because of advances in that Earth's medical technology?  Is it because any human in that world could live past 100 with proper diet and exercise?   Or is she tapping into the same ki techniques that preserved Master Roshi for so long?   What I kind of dig about the special is that no one really knows, and we may never know.  The world of Goku and his friends is gone, lost forever like a forgotten dream.  Pan seems to be a minor celebrity in her own right, but it's because she's Pan, not so much because she was related to the mysterious Son Goku, daughter of the brilliant scientist Son Gohan, or the heir of the legendary world champion Mister Satan.  If she married, her husband is never seen or mentioned.   We have no idea if she had brothers or sisters.   She must have had at least one son or daughter, but the only reason we know this is because of her grandson, Goku Jr.  There's a melancholy to that.  Maybe some of these missing figures are still alive, but they're clearly not part of Pan's life anymore.   It's just her and her grandson living in Satan City.   Goku Jr. probaly knows the city was named to honor his ancestor's heroism at the Cell Games, but the information is meaningless to him.   It's ancient history, especially to a small boy.  Goku Jr. is the spitting image of his namesake, but this doesn't mean that much to him either.   He knows Goku was a great warrior, someone whom Pan respects tremendously, but he might as well be Abraham Lincoln.  He looks in the mirror and sees himself, not a cartoon character who could blow up entire planets with his fingers.   Pan tries to train Goku Jr, but he's kind of a klutz.  More to the point, he's timid and doesn't want to fight.   A bully named Puck takes a cool-looking novelty pen from him, and he just lets him keep it.   Pan gives him shit for not standing up for himself, but he doesn't see the big deal.   During this conversation she has a heart attack or something like that, and we cut to the hospital, where Pan is apparently in bad shape.  Goku desperately promises to train harder and fight anyone he has to if it means she'll pull through.   This is where Pan realizes she's been too hard on the boy.   I like this scene because it would have been too easy to forget that Pan was kind of a pushy jerk when she was a kid.   The adult Pan is still demanding and refuses to take crap from anyone, but she's been wanting Goku Jr. to be like her grandfather, and he has been all along. Son Goku wouldn't start a fight over a pen, no matter how many cool floaty things are inside it.  But he would go through anything to save Pan, and that's what Goku Jr. is determined to do, too.   When Pan takes a turn for the worse, Junior heads home, and notices a photo of Pan as a child, holding a Dragon Ball.  He flashes back to a time when Pan tried to tell him the story of the photo, but he was too preoccupied playing video games.   PAN: Hey, check this out.  It's a picture of me and my robot friend Giru.   And I had a dopey orange bandana, and I whined all the time, and Vegeta never got to do anything cool, and-- GOKU JR.: That sounds really boring, granma.  I'm gonna play more Super Mario World.   It's hard not to like Goku, Jr., is what I'm trying to say.   Anyway, Goku Jr. doesn't know the whole mythology of the Dragon Balls, but he does vaguely understand that they grant wishes, and the four-star ball was sort of a family heirloom, so he devises an ill-conceived plan to travel to Mount Paozu and search his ancestor's home for it.  A truck driver offers him a lift, but this is just a trick to get all the stuff in his giant backpack.   Evil Truck Driver is perhaps my new favorite GT character. GOKU JR.: So what's in this truck?   ETD: It's full of hamburgers, kid.  It's pretty awesome.   GOKU, JR.: Wow, you sure have a lot of food in the cab.   ETD: Yep.   I've got even more food in this bag here, too.   You want some?   GOKU JR.: Nah, I've got my own food in my backpack.   ETD: ... Really?    Uh... say, you want to hop out and take a whiz?   It's a long way to go.   GOKU JR.: Yeah, I guess I'd better.   I'll just leave my backpack stuffed with food in your truck filled with even more food.     ETD: Delicious.  Uh... I mean, scrumptious!  I mean!  I'm driving away and taking your food with me!  Ha ha ha! I feel really bad for whoever's expecting those hamburgers to arrive.   Actually, maybe he's not even a real truck driver.  He just stole the truck one day and he's been living off its cargo ever since.   Ironically, this turns into a lucky break for Goku, because he meets Puck while he walks to Mt.  Paozu on foot.  Puck had heard about Goku's plans before he left, and he was so impressed with his daring that he wants to tag along and watch when Goku is eaten by wild animals or bandits.  The thing is, Puck's a pretty fair outdoorsman, so as they get closer to their destination he's able to help Goku live off the land.  Along the way, Puck begins to bond with Goku Jr., and they have a few minor adventures.   Wolves attack them, but they're rescued by a woman with a shotgun who takes them to her home for the night.   Unfortunately, she turns out to be a witch or a demon or something.   Whatever she is, she eats people.  Goku Jr. is suspicious from the start (due to his past experience with Evil Truck Driver), so he and Puck manage to escape.   Their partnership comes to an end on a rickety bridge.   Goku Jr is afraid to cross until Puck proves it's sturdy enough.   Even so, the bridge nearly collapses, and Puck falls off in a failed attempt to rescue Goku.  Goku manages to climb back up on his own, and then he rescues a bearcub from one of the same demon bandits he escaped earlier.  In gratitude, the bear’s mother escorts Goku to his ancestor's home, but they're once again attacked by the bandits.   This time, they're joined by Lord Yao, their leader.   The mommy bear tries to fight him off so Goku can take her cub to safety, but she's hopelessly outmatched.   Worse, the baby bear slips away and tries to help, so Goku can't even save him.  Frustrated with his powerlessness, Goku Jr finally loses his shit and transforms into a Super Saiyan.  He clobbers Lord Yao and frightens his henchmen away.  When he reverts to normal, he has no memory of the battle, and believes the bears did all the work.   With all that out of the way, Goku Jr. locates the Four-Star Dragon Ball in the ruins of what was once his ancestor's childhood home.   This is really a melancholy scene.  The house belonged to Son Gohan, the kindly old man who adopted the elder Goku when his spaceship crashed on Earth.  When Dragon Ball begins, Goku leaves that home to begin his adventures, and aside from a couple of trips to pick up his things, he never really returns.   Now, some 140 years later, it's still standing, but derelict.  No one remembers the kindly old man who lived there, or how his compassion changed the universe for the better.  Someone must have left the four-star Dragon Ball there to honor his memory, but even the significance of that gesture is lost in the sands of time.   Goku Jr. doesn't understand how the Dragon Balls work, so he starts praying to the four-star ball, asking the Dragon to restore his grandmother's health and bring Puck back to life if at all possible.  When he gets no answer, he becomes upset, and then he notices the original Goku standing beside him.   He introduces himself as Goku Jr.'s great-great-grandfather, and explains that the Dragon Balls only work when you have all seven of them.   Nevertheless, he congratulates his descendant for his courage and strength, and then Pan and Puck arrive on the scene in an aircraft.   Apparently they didn't die after all.   The elder Goku disappears without a trace, and Goku Jr. is left with the lesson that his inner strength was what saved the day.     I'm not crazy about the ending of the story, since it's never explained how Puck survived his fall.   Pan's recovery is no big deal.   No one knew for sure whether she would live or die, so it's entirely plausible that she got better, went home, and realized where Goku Jr. must have gone.   But Puck fell off a bridge into a deep canyon.  Unless Pan swooped in and saved him in the nick of time, I don't see how else he would have survived.   Of course, some other superhuman resident of Mount Paozu might have stepped in, but the special seems to be built on the idea that the superheroics of old are no more.   Of course, based on the finale of Dragon Ball GT we might infer that Goku Jr.'s wish really was granted after all.   In the final episode of the series, Goku merges with the Dragon Balls as Shenron exiles himself from the earth.   So if the Four-Star Ball was sitting in his old house, it must have been Goku himself who put it there, because no one else would have had it.  And it's reasonable to assume he had the other six with him, so when Goku Jr. made his wish, he really did get it to work after all.   The implication is that Goku is the Dragon, and he's not too picky about the rules.  I think this is what Toei was going for, but they wanted to keep it ambiguous.  Maybe Goku did come back from death to grant his descendant's wish, or maybe Goku Jr. imagined the encounter, and Puck and Pan's survival was just a fortunate coincidence.   The next time we see these characters is in Episode 64 of the regular GT television series.  Goku Jr. has learned to harness and control his powers to become a talented martial artist.  He enters the World Tournament and faces one of Vegeta's descendants in the final round of the Junior Devision.  Pan is still in good health, and she meets Vegeta Jr.'s mother, indicating a friendly, if not close, relationship still exists between the two families.  The elder Goku reappears once again to watch the tournament finals, but Pan only glimpses him for a moment before he vanishes again. There's a bittersweetness to the special that really makes it worthwhile.   Beyond that, it's actually kind of boilerplate.  It reminds me a lot of the "Episode of Bardock" special that was recently produced.   In that, Goku's biological father Bardock miraculously survives the destruction of his home planet by getting thrown back in time, where he becomes the hero of the pre-Saiyan Planet Plant and turns Super Saiyan at the climactic moment.  It's not a bad story, it just doesn't have a whole lot else going for it other than being a callback/tribute to the main Dragon Ball storyline.   A lot of fun was had with these future scenarios, depicting heroes who would carry on after Goku: Future Trunks in his alternate timeline, Uub at the end of DBZ, Pan as the heir apparent in GT, and Goku Jr. in this special.  But none of these characters ever really goes anywhere new.  At best, they follow a path similar to the one charted by Goku and his contemporaries.  The moral is that the story is the same no matter who the main character is.  Goku Jr. barely knows the legend of his famous ancestor, but he carries on the tradition nevertheless.   That's the "hero's legacy".  Goku might be forgotten after a few generations, but the things he stood for, the causes he fought for, the example he set, those things are timeless.   And that brings us full circle, because I think the chief mistake of Dragon Ball GT was in trying to de-age Goku to artificially loop his character arc.   Toei wanted to make Goku his own successor, when they probably would have been better off making Pan the main character, having her own goofy adventures with Goku and Vegeta chilling out in the superhero retirement home.  Or they could have skipped ahead and made the series about this Goku Jr. kid, since he has the look they wanted without all the baggage.  GT ended with a ham-fisted morality play about how the Dragon Balls had been overused, which is humorous coming from a studio that couldn't let the Dragon Ball franchise end with dignity.  With the special, they kind of got it right, but only for a moment.

[pandas-pandemonium]

Soft Yandere!BTS Reaction- You tell them you miss practicing your instrument/making art

Namjoon

"I just- I just miss doing it, Namjoon. The feeling of the pencil or pen between my fingers, sketching out whatever my heart desires," you explain.

"I don't want all my progress in improving to just.. 'poof' away all because you keep me chained up here... There isn't even a piece of paper within my vicinity!"

Namjoon sighed, watching you with half-lidded eyes as you vented to him.

"Well.. you have been co-operating lately, and it would be nice to see you smile again. You did look so at peace whenever you drew," he began. Your eyes lit up, with that sentence.

"On one condition, your art is only for my eyes, understand?" He asked. It took you everything not to groan. You should have expected this. Terms and Conditions, set by Kim Namjoon himself. What was this? Some kind of business deal?

You forced a smile, anything to finally do something you love, "I understand, Namjoon. I'll even dedicate my best piece to you." That seemed to please him even more, as his smile grew wider.

"That's my girl. Now, what sort of art materials do you want me to get?"

Kim Seokjin

You huffed, blankly staring at the grey wall, trying to remember the last piece you had played before Seokjin had taken you into his grasp. Subconsciously, your fingers began to tap a faint rhythm, a piece of music you had played months, possibly years ago. In your trance you didn't even notice the taller man enter the room until you felt an embrace from behind.

"What's wrong, darling?" He whispered into your ear as one hand slid to your waist, tracing circles on your thigh.

Momentarily shaken from your trance, you paused, registering his words before replying.

"I-I want to play on my [instrument] again... Where did you even put it? I haven't seen it since you locked me up," you mention with remorse. You longed to see the [wooden, stringed/golden brass/sleek wooden] instrument once again, the object having been abandoned in your home when you were drugged and chained onto Seokjin's bed. Jin sighed as he played with the strands of your hair.

"Do you really have to, [Name]? Do you love it more than me?" He asked, his grip on your shoulder tightening as he tried to hold back his distaste.

"I-I," you paused. You had to phrase this in a way you won't be lying to him, nor will you be enraging him.

"I just--it's been a while, Seokjin... You understand right? What it feels like when you're taken away from cooking? That's how I feel when I can't play my music. Besides, you'll be there to watch me practice!" You suggested, in hopes of relating to something he enjoyed as well.

He chuckled silently before petting your head gently.

"All right, princess. If you're sooo desperate to play, I'll arrange for your instrument to be brought in and professionally maintained and retuned," he said. Surprised he agreed, you shot up from your seated position, almost forgetting about the metal chain around your ankle when you felt the tug against it, yanking your form back down onto the sheets.

Seokjin laughed, "Right, we should probably remove these first hm?"

Min Yoongi

Yoongi was out. He had supposedly left the house to get some groceries and new clothes and wouldn't be back for a while. Your throat felt dry as you approached the baby-grand piano located in the hallway. He never said you couldn't play it, or that you couldn't touch it... But it truly had been too long since he toned down on the drugs, and you were now in a clearer state of mind. He wouldn't know, you'll just play a short 2-minute piece and put everything back where it belonged, and if he asked what you've been doing, you can just tell him you were reading.

Gingerly, your hands lifted the heavy lid of the piano to unveil the black and white keys. Softly, your fingers trailed across the wooden tiles as you seated yourself on the chair opposite the large instrument. You noticed the files of music sheets on a shelf adjacent to the piano, and for a moment, you wondered why you hadn't noticed it before. You left your seat and returned promptly with a brown plastic file; one of Yoongi's piano compositions, the ballad version of one of his songs.

You flipped open the file, your eyes scanning the pages, your memories of years and years of practice and theory flooding back to you. You grinned and set your hands upon the keys and played.

Yoongi was confused, to say the least when he arrived. He was expecting a quiet home, maybe with you reclining on a sofa, reading a book. But to come back to picture of you playing the piano, his beloved instrument (after you, of course), so elegantly (though a little clumsily)? His heart melted at the sight. He cursed himself silently, wondering why and how he forgot how much you loved to play. A small gummy smile spread itself across his lips as he hurried to set down the bags by the kitchen, and to rush towards you to engulf your body in his warmth.

"Why didn't you tell me..." He muttered, you could almost hear his pout. Your fingers faltered the moment you felt his presence on you and you stumbled for words.

"I-I, I just, I thought you'd be mad if I touched your piano..." You began before he shushed you with his lips.

He pulled back, his eyes staring into yours, filled with love.

"Why would I be? To see my darling playing an instrument I love as well? I would give the world to see it. Now, let's get back to the piece hm? I can teach you how to play it," he said, excitement visible in his voice. You nodded, speechless. It was times like this when you can almost forget how lovesick Yoongi was with you, and you would treasure it; these brief moments of peace.

Jung Hoseok

It was one of those days when Hoseok would take you to his dance studio to watch him. It was when he was sure no one would be around to distract you from him, or attempt to even steal your attention. So here you were, leaning against one of the four mirrored walls, watching your boyfriend move his body to the music. Only when he was dancing, did you feel as if you were back in those blissful, oblivious times. When you were unaware of Hoseok's growing possessiveness over you.

You sighed as you watched his crisp and firm movements, you sure did miss your tablet. It had been so long since you were allowed near technology or even a device without Hoseok's supervision, you weren't even sure if you remembered how to operate the device anymore. Slowly, your mind began to break his movements down into frames, mindlessly tracing the air, pretending as if you were drawing him on a screen.

In your daze, you almost didn’t realise the dancer had stopped. His dark brown hair was slightly messy and his smooth skin shone with sweat. Once he paused the music player, he turned to you, one eyebrow raised.

“And what is my baby doing, hm?” He asked, both to you and himself. Your finger stopped in mid-air and you dropped your arm as you answered.

“I--uh, you know how I used to do animations, Hoseok?” you asked, your [Eye Colour] eyes glancing up at him nervously. His mouth opened in ‘ah’, signalling that he recalled your previous occupation. He motioned for you to carry on.

“Well, I was thinking...it would be nice to have my tablet again,” you said. Hoseok’s jaw clenched, his eyes narrowed.

“No.”

You flinched in surprise at the harsh answer. “Wh-why? It’s just a tablet, and, and I haven’t worked on any animations in a while-” you quickly explained, rushing to your feet as your boyfriend walked away from you, grabbing his things.

“I said, no, [Name]. You’re not getting your tablet back and you’re not going to animate or do anything without me,” he said through clenched teeth. Even from behind, you could feel the annoyance radiating from his body. 

You groaned in irritation, “Come on! You get to dance and do what you love, but I can’t even do something as simple as draw?” you exclaimed in disbelief. 

He looked over his shoulder, “Exactly. Now you’re going to keep quiet until we get home and don’t you dare mention anything like that again.” You stopped in your tracks, your mouth agape. Wiping away your tears, you inhaled deeply and huffed.

“Fine.” you muttered under your breath. He always got his way anyways, stupid, stupid, stupid. Why did you even bother asking him?

Park Jimin

You smiled to yourself, humming a familiar tune you had heard Jimin play for one of his dance performances. Due to habit, you ended up subconsciously playing an air version of the [instrument], making up a cover in your mind. It was a shame that Jimin had apparently forgot it back in your house, well...it was your house. He now demands you call his apartment your home as well, seeing as you now both will live together from now on.

You wondered if Jimin would allow you to practice your instrument, assuming he didn’t get rid of it. Blissfully, you swayed to the music as you hummed the song and tended to the chores of the house. It was something you did to occupy yourself when Jimin was away, seeing as how he thought everything else could “take you away from him” or something along those lines. You scoffed, you still haven’t forgotten your situation, but alas, you had no choice but to make the best of it.

You were about to move on to another tune when you heard the door click open and you immediately ceased your fun. You didn’t want Jimin questioning why you seemed to be enjoying time by yourself, and to stick by you for another month again. 

“Sweetheart, what are you doing?” his soft tenor voice asked as he walked to the kitchen.

“Uh, just rearranging the cabinet,” you called out, hurriedly picking a dish out, pretending to do just that. You heard nothing but a hum in response and soon enough, you felt the man wrap you in his embrace.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his head on your shoulder. You swallowed.

“Me-me too, Jimin. How about you go change, I’ll prepare dinner,” you suggested, wanting to get him off of you. Jimin only shook his head in response.

“I want to cuddle...I spent way too long away from you,” he said, slowly edging you away from your spot and towards the living room. You let out a breath of defeat, steeling your nerves.

“Alright Jimin. Let’s do that,” you said, allowing him to guide you to the living room sofa, where as he sat down, he pulled you closer to his chest.

“I heard you singing...you don’t do that around me,” he commented. Your eyes widened; he had heard.

“I--” you paused to think of an excuse before you heard his tongue click behind you.

“No lies, [Name]. I want to hear why you sounded so happy when I wasn’t around. Is it someone else, hm?” he asked.

You shook your head, immediately denying his claim and explained yourself. You told him the truth, and that you wanted to play again, to which he only chuckled in response before getting up. His grip still remained on your shoulder however.

“Ah, silly [Name]. If you just asked, I would have brought your instrument out,” he said. He walked towards a room at the far end and unlocked it. Sure enough, your [instrument] was sitting there, propped against a wall, in its casing. It had unfortunately, been collecting dust for a while now and you wondered if you had to get any new parts for it. 

Slowly, your hand reached out for it before you were tugged back. Your head whipped around, about to question his actions. Jimin’s eyes were dark.

“I didn’t say you could play it though, did I?” he asked, a warning tone on the edge of his voice. You gulped and shook your head.

“I’ll take it out, but I don’t want you playing it without my permission, and you can’t play it alone either. I want you here with me, got it?”

You nodded your head in response, knowing that if you spoke, your voice would betray you. You didn’t want to make him mad even further. The silver-haired male smiled at your passive response.

“Good that you understand that then. Now, let’s watch a movie together okay? If I feel like it, I’ll let you tend to your instrument okay, love?”

Kim Taehyung

There he was, sitting opposite an easel, a paintbrush and palette in hand. His clothes were stained in various colours, some mixing in to form browns and hints of purple and darker colours, a result of colour theory. He looked almost angelic, seated painting...you. You swallowed, trying to keep your disgust at bay. It was horrifying really, how you became the only subject he would willingly paint.

As an artist yourself, you knew that this would only limit his creativity. But your countless suggestions to paint something else, the scenery, an animal, still-life, anything, but he would just ignore your suggestions. So here you were, about to try out something. You weren’t going to lie to him, oh no. But you were going to try and entice him with something else. You crossed your fingers and took in a deep breath.

“Taehyung?” your voice cut through the still air and the sound of the brush against canvas. He turned around, part of his face stained with paint.

“Oh! Doll, what are you doing here? I thought you were asleep...” he said, his eyes widened in curiosity. You fidgeted with your clothes, finding the courage to execute your plan.

“I-I was wondering if you would want to join me in buying some new art supplies?” you asked, your eyes avoiding his gaze. You heard a hum as he considered your suggestion.

“Why so suddenly, babe?” he asked. Your mouth felt dry, he won’t get mad right? Your previous suggestions to go outside never ended well, and you hoped this one would have a different outcome.

“Well, you know, I used to paint and all...but it has been quite some time. We use different mediums for art, so I’d like to get some new supplies,” you said, trying to keep your voice stable. Gosh, why were you so damn scared of him?

You heard him sigh along with the shifting of some papers and cans of paint. Finally, you looked up to see him in front of you, causing you to step back a bit, cornering yourself into the wall. His inquisitive brown hues examined your face, searching for something.

“Is this about how I don’t paint anyone but you?” he asked. Your silence seemed to work as answer. He let out a shaky breath, running his stained hands through his tangled brown locks. “Look, you’re my muse. I don’t care what anyone says, but you’re the only thing worth painting in this world,” he tried to explain. He must have caught your frown as he pulled your form close to his chest.

“But...it would be nice to have art as our couple activity... I suppose I can put in an online order for some inks and markers. You’d like that right? Or we could get you a new tablet?” he suggested, pulling himself away to look into your [Eye Colour] eyes. The intensity of his gaze made your blood run cold and you fumbled to find your words.

“Yeah, I’d like that. Our own couple activity, just the two of us,” you repeated, forcing a smile on your face. He smiled, his eyes narrowing into half-moon slits and he pressed a wet kiss against your lips.

“Then let’s get started then!”

Jeon Jungkook

You observed as Jungkook doodled on the screen in front of him, in a trance as the pen dragged the lines across the white background. You weren’t exactly sure what he was doing, but he seemed to have an idea of some sort. Bored, your eyes wandered, taking in every detail of the room you were both enclosed in. 

Framed pictures of artwork hung on the walls, along with some movie and game promotion posters. The figurines on the shelves stood in their place, their painted eyes staring ahead. It was hard to believe this was the room of some obsessed male. Then again, you didn’t think Jungkook was capable of such things until you woke up one day, tied to his bed, restrained from moving.

You looked down at the chain connecting your foot to the edge of his bed and sighed. The cold metal stayed strong as ever, even when you tried to weaken it through rusting. Jungkook didn’t seem to notice your movements, focused on the art piece on his computer. 

“What are you drawing?” you asked, figuring some conversation would be better than nothing. You couldn’t even get up to pick up a book without being yanked back by the chain. How did he expect you to entertain yourself in this environment, you truly didn’t know. His head perked up, turning around to look at you.

“Ah, I was just...working on a new project. I’ll print it out soon enough for you to see,” he said, before turning back to the screen. Well, that worked out well...

You groaned under your breath. You would give anything to be able to do something. Staring at the bed sheets, you noticed the faint outlines of Disney characters and began to trace them. While doing so, your brain ran through the countless work-in-progresses you had saved on your old laptop. You were pretty sure you had been working on painting someone’s OC before you were kidnapped. You huffed, not like it mattered anyway. You were pretty sure Jungkook had “taken care” of the whole situation.

You missed drawing.

You really did. The past couple weeks had been filled with your shouts and frustrations, your mind had almost forgot the basic things you loved to do. Your head turned to the taller man sitting at his desk, adjacent to his bed, and you wondered if he’d allow you to use his tablet when he was done.

He caught you staring soon enough and raised an eyebrow.

“What do you need, darling?” he asked, his eyes slightly concerned and his lips in a pout. You froze, and your brain failed to function for a brief moment.

“Oh, I was just uh..watching you draw,” you admitted, partially. His mouth opened in acknowledgement before he got off his seat and headed to the bed.

“You should have just said so, you know. You were pretty feisty the past couple weeks, but I’m glad to see you calmed down a little, [Name]! As a reward, I’ll let you contribute your creativity to my piece, hm?” he suggested, his doe eyes looking straight at you as he fumbled with the locks on the chain.

You pressed your lips in a thin line, “Sure. Sounds fun, Jungkook...” you said. Not quite what you hoped for, but at least you were free of those confounded chains.

A/N: This was more of a guilty pleasure than anything lol. No one requested this, I wrote it for myself. I’m sorry for the shitty quality. it was hard coming up with ideas for 7 people. The Seungcheol Soulmate fic is halfway done, because I realised I end my stuff with dialogues waaayy too often and wanted to add more proper scoups x reader moments before I just published it w 1.5k words.

Hope you guys enjoyed this. I really think we need more artistic s/o’s in this community tbh

[cyclone-rachel]

Pay the Asking Price

A Supergirl fanfic

Chapter 6

AO3 link

~

When Querl woke up again, it was to the sound of Kara’s voice, and to the overhead lights suddenly illuminating his DEO room.

“It’s your first day at work!” Kara said, excitedly, and yes, he had indeed agreed to work at Catco Worldwide Media, alongside her.

He was in her custody now, after all, and since according to her it was less suspicious if he had a job to go along with his new human identity, he was going to go along with this. As much as he would’ve preferred working for the DEO, an organization with slightly more advanced technology and a place more familiar to him (even though it had been his prison for the twenty-seven days in which he’d spent in this time period), he knew that Kara was correct in her reasoning.

He just hadn’t expected her to wake him up like this.

“Kara, I do have an internal clock.” He said, looking over at her delighted face as she stood in the doorway. “I would have woken myself up. But… thank you, anyway.”

“Well, I’m actually early.” Kara answered. “I wake up a little later most days- or at least I did. But I gave myself even more time today, to help you get ready.”

Querl pulled himself out of bed, covering the T-shirt and shorts he was wearing with the standard-issue DEO pants and hooded jacket.

“Alright. What do I do, for that?”

~

She took him back to her apartment, something he’d expected since she had told him he was being released into her custody, but once he arrived there with her, he was still taken aback.

This apartment was, after all, immortalized- both hers and Alex’s, perfectly preserved in a museum, the significant items (furniture and paintings, mostly, in Kara’s apartment) displayed prominently and given meticulous care. He had memorized its layout, beforehand… but every other time he’d seen it, it was surrounded by other exhibits, being experienced by other people.

Here, now, it was just him and Kara, and when he saw it, he took a step out into the hallway, as though he wasn’t allowed in.

It’s real, he thought. She’s real, and I have the privilege of being steps away from her home.

“It’s okay.” She said, a hand on his shoulder as she looked sideways at his dazed expression. “Come on inside, I’m making pancakes.”

He sat down at her table, watching as she made the pancakes, carefully measuring out the ingredients and pouring the batter into the pan she was using. (and, with one of his thought tracks, he memorized what she was doing, so he could later make pancakes of his own to surprise her)

And when the pancakes were set in front of him, in a large stack with no utensils present, he took the only logical path in eating them.

“Do you want syru-“ Kara started, as he picked up the stack with both hands and bit into all of the pancakes.

“I’ve never eaten anything with my hands before.” He said, after putting it down. “But I thought it made sense, for this food. Am I doing it wrong?”

Kara shook her head.

“No, no…” she said, turning back to her cooktop. “I can just make more for myself. You’re fine, I promise. Just finish up quick, we need to pick out an outfit for you.”

“How quickly?”

“As fast as you can.” She said, and as soon as she could say that he started into the pancakes again, hardly coming up for air until he finished all of them.

“Wow.” Kara said. “You eat… a lot.”

“Indeed, thank you.” Querl answered, wiping his plate off with a paper towel before placing it into the sink. “Our food is very different from yours. I think I like yours better, though, much more flavor. What else is there?”

“Well, after this, we can get coffee.” Kara started, putting her own plate there, resting against his. “You’ll need it anyway, to give to some of the people you work with.”

“Very well.” He said as he got up from his chair. “What are these outfits you wanted me to try?”

Kara studied him, once more.

“Well, first, I think one more thing. But you have to stay still…”

Querl gulped, as he sat in the chair with a green towel draped in front of him, but indeed stayed still, as Kara gave him a haircut with her heat vision. She was remarkably precise, and by the time she was gently removing the hair from him, he was all the more grateful.

“Great!” she said, and he smiled, unable to disagree. “Now, let’s see about those clothes.”

And they did see. The first outfit, with a light blue shirt that Querl quite liked, was too tight for him, and the next, with a white shirt checked with green and red, was too long. But the two of them quickly found a balance- a blue and white checkered shirt with brown shoes, black pants, a brown belt, a brown cardigan, and a black and white bowtie.

“How is it?”

Kara gave him a big, beautiful smile, as he walked out of her bedroom, that took his breath away even as he was trying to impress her.

“Yes! It fits!” she said. “That’s perfect. Now you just need glasses.”

“Glasses?” he asked, pulling out the sunglasses Winn had given him after their brief drunken excursion, the ones he’d referred to as a “souvenir”. “Like these?”

“No, no no no no. Real glasses. Like mine.” Kara said, pulling out her personal pair.

Lined with lead, he thought. A gift from your adoptive father, to keep your powers in check.

Although truly, no glasses could ever hide the hero within you, Kara Zor-El. Or for that matter, none could make you less exquisite.

“Well, they’re not real.” Kara corrected. “But they keep it so nobody knows I’m Supergirl.”

“Nobody will mistake me for Supergirl.” Querl said. “But, in case I should decide to be a hero using this face…” He pointed to the one the image inducer gave him, that would go unrecognizable as Brainiac 5. “I should use these to hide my identity even further?”

“Yeah, exactly.” Kara said. “Here.”

She held up the pair, that were sort of circular like hers with the top half of the frames being black and the bottom half clear.

“These will make it so that nobody knows Querl Dox is Quentin.”

“Quentin. Right.”

“Yes. Quentin Richards, Winn got you a birth certificate, social security card, everything you need.”

She handed him the card, as he looked it over and committed its contents to memory.

“I’m familiar with those, we still have them in my time.” Querl said.

“So I guess I don’t need to tell you about your FICO score?”

“…No, I can look that up. But thank you, for putting so much effort into this.”

Thank you for helping me be more human, he thought. Though neither of us will completely be human. But this is still acceptable, for now.

Kara smiled at him, placing her hand on his arm.

“It’s no problem, really.” She said. “From one alien who had to adjust to Earth to another. And from what I understand, you had to do it twice.”

“I did, yes.” Querl answered. “Although this time is quite different from the last. But I am grateful, that you got me a job.”

“Of course.” Kara said. “And you’re gonna learn so much about this century working at Catco.”

“I am.” He echoed. “Alright.”

He let her put the glasses on him, and she gave him a bigger smile once they were on.

“Yeah. Those definitely fit you.” She said. “I just gotta get changed, and then we can go. Okay?”

“Very well, Kara.”

~

“…So when I first started working here, I found it helpful to bring coffee to the other assistants to make new friends.”

“Ah, bribery.” Querl said. “We had that on Colu.”

Though it didn’t work on the robots that raised me. I had to reconfigure them entirely to make them agreeable.

“No, it’s not bribery.” Kara answered, looking a little bit uncomfortable at his words. He immediately regretted them, as she continued. “It’s just… niceness.”

That didn’t work on the Kelexes either.

Querl didn’t look at any of the interns as he walked through with Kara, only handing some of them coffees and repeating “Good morning” in the tone he’d heard Kara speak in.

“Those alarms are…”

“Phones.”

“Yes. Your communication devices.” Querl said. “Not to worry, I will learn those- do you have access to a manual?”

“No, but I can ask around.” Kara answered. “Or you can just look it up, you have a computer.”

“Yes! Most helpful.” Querl said.

“You’re welcome. Oh! You definitely want to give Eve Tessmacher a coffee, she’s James’s assistant- big boss- Eve!”

Kara ran over to one of the desks, behind which sat a blond woman with wavy hair. She stared at Querl as he handed her a coffee, dropping her pen in the process.

“Have you met our new intern?”

“Uh- Thank you, so much!” she said, enthusiasm bubbling from her voice.

“Sure.” Querl answered.

“What’s your name?”

“Quentin. Number 49800-“

“No, Quentin, you don’t need to give her your social security number.” Kara corrected gently.

“So I memorized that number for nothing?”

“No, of course not.” Kara said. “But there are other times when you’ll need it- not right now, though. James!”

James looked up, having heard his name, and walked over to Kara and Querl.

“I want to introduce you to our new intern. Quentin.”

“Right.” James answered, looking relaxed.

How much has he heard about me? Querl thought. The man known as “Superman’s best pal”- how much does he know about the people who helped train Kal-El, his first real friends when he took on the mantle of Superman?

He treated him like a stranger, however, as he shook Querl’s hand, welcoming him to Catco.

“Um, I had Miss Tessmacher put some reports on your desk.” James said, after the welcome. “They should be put in order and filed. So if you have any questions, my doors are always open.”

“Thank you.” Querl said. “And I apologize, I ran out of coffee.”

James laughed, even though he wasn’t sure what he’d said was funny.

“That’s okay, I’m just about to go get one myself.” He said.

“Can I go with you?” Kara asked.

“Of course you can, I’ll be at the elevator.” James said. And with that, he was gone, leaving Querl and Kara alone for a moment before Kara caught up with him.

“In my time, you wouldn’t need to use the elevator.” Querl said. “You would have no need for a secret identity- Clark didn’t, after all. You could just fly.”

“I know, and you can tell me later- but Quentin, in my time I’m still not showing my powers to anyone else- that’s the whole point of the clothes and the glasses. For both of us.”

Querl nodded, following her.

“Okay. This is your desk.”

“So I can’t use my powers to go through this paperwork?” he asked.

“No- well, with you, I don’t know.” Kara said. She really wasn’t sure- how did he show his powers, as a twelfth-level intellect? “I mean, I guess you could, as long as you’re subtle about it. But just make sure to stay here, okay? Whatever goes on outside, Supergirl can handle.”

Querl smiled.

“Yes, I’m aware.” He said.

“Okay, good.” Kara answered, just as the phone rang. “Now, it’s your first phone call. Think you can handle it?”

“Yes, I believe so.” Querl said. The phone kept ringing, but he spoke into it, not bothering to pick the phone up off its cradle. “Hello, this is Catco, how may I help you?”

Kara picked the phone up, and handed it to him.

“Try now.” She said.

“Thank you.” He answered, taking the phone from her. He repeated his message into it properly, and Kara nodded, knowing she could leave him there with confidence that he’d be okay.

~ Querl didn’t like to admit it, but he wasn’t good with talking to people. Relating to them, really- carrying on a conversation. With the Legionnaires it had been more of a necessity at first, but became easier as he’d grown to get to know them more, and they became more comfortable around him. And after a few weeks, the same could be said of Kara (who made him feel at ease like nobody else could, aside from Clark when he’d been there) and Alex, J’onn and Winn.

So in his new job, when he didn’t have to answer phones or talk to others, he didn’t do it.

There was still so much activity going on around him, and he did his best to shut it out and focus, but it wasn’t long before he realized he’d done all of his assigned paperwork and didn’t need to focus- so he turned his attention to the full window he was seated in front of.

He stood there, with the phone in his hand so he’d give the impression that he was talking to someone as he hacked the comms used by the DEO, and looked down on the street below, hoping he could see Kara there.

And sure enough, he saw and heard her and James, right before she leapt into action as Supergirl- and got shot for her trouble, purple energy beam sizzling through the air and knocking her through some sculptures, leaving her on the ground.

James seemed to be doing his part as well, but it wasn’t long until he was knocked down too, and Kara attempted to use her heat vision on the alien gun belonging to the man who’d shot her- only to be met by a force field, when it got close. He tried to shoot her again, but she flew out of the way before any of his shots hit her- until the last one, which made her fall to the ground with a hard impact. The next one hit her too, when she tried to get back up- and this one carried her into the sky, crashing her through the windows of what looked to be a hospital, based on the logo on the building.

The attackers drove away, apparently satisfied, and Kara flew out of the building to comfort James-

And then the phone actually rang, and he quickly endeavored to answer it.

“Hello, this is Catco, how may I help you?”

“Brainy, it’s Kara.” She said, panicked. “Can you come back to the DEO with me? I think we could need your help. I’ll talk to James, it won’t affect anything about your work there. If anyone asks, you’re on assignment for him, and will be back soon.”

“Affirmative.” Querl answered. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Kara said, and as soon as she hung up, he was out- not looking at anyone, trying not to stand out too much.

It wasn’t a problem, however, and he didn’t have to try at all- because nobody noticed he was going.

Except, without his knowledge, one person.

~ “…no telling what this might’ve done to you.”

Querl arrived just as Kara was relaying what she’d learned to Winn, while Alex and J’onn were also present. She looked tired, standing beside him, but she managed a smile at Brainy as he got there.

“We gotta find a way to track these weapons.”

“Okay, so it emits phased moon particles, right? I could maybe come up with a way to detect it.”

“I will help.” Querl said, looking over to J’onn and Alex for approval. They said nothing, however, as the monitors suddenly changed, crackling with static, and what looked like a computer-generated head appeared on the screens.

“You were warned.” The voice said, as scenes of violence were shown- Scorcher attacking the President, what Querl could now see was the bank robbery from that morning, others that he didn’t recognize. “The alien invaders are dangerous. Their intentions, malicious. They possess power we cannot hope to match, and technology brought from other worlds is falling into the wrong hands. We should not be opening our arms to them. We should be locking them up and taking their weapons away. You did not heed us, but you will heed the chaos that amnesty has brought. You will pay the price in fear and blood. And you will beg us to save you. We are Cadmus.”

I suppose some things never change, Querl thought, a chill running down his spine and his hands starting to shake as he remembered similar messages in his own future. He’d hoped he would never have to deal with that kind of organization again, but if he had to…

“Kind of a coincidence, that Cadmus releases a new video just as criminals get their hands on alien weapons.” Alex remarked.

Perhaps it’s no coincidence at all.

“It’s not a coincidence if Cadmus is the one giving them the guns.” Kara answered. “I’m gonna go look into this. Come on, Brainy, we have to go back to work.”

“Right, yes.” Querl said, following her as she started walking away from the others. “And I suppose we cannot fly to Catco?”

“Not today.”

“Alright.” ~ After returning to the office, Querl was doing his best to keep his head down. He wasn’t even looking over at Kara and James as they were conversing, as much as he wanted to, or trying to discern what they were talking about. All he could do was look as though he were doing his work- that was it.

Unfortunately, however, it seemed like the universe made sure he would get noticed in one way or another.

“Eve?” he heard James ask, as he and Kara noticed her sitting at her desk, currently with nothing to work on. “Don’t you have quarterly reports to file?”

“I did.” She said, smiling. “But that new guy, Quentin- he’s so nice, he noticed that I was struggling with these and after I asked if he was having any trouble since it was his first day, he said no, so he offered to help me out, and well- everything’s taken care of now. What should I do next?”

“I’ll take care of that.” James answered. “Kara, you want to talk to him?”

“Yeah, I got him.” Kara said, and Querl braced himself as she approached, even though he was also trying his best to look relaxed in the face of her arrival.

“What are you doing?”

“Eating these red tubes.” Querl answered, holding one up for her to see. “I know they cannot be literally pure joy in food form, but they are as close to it as can be managed. Do you want one?”

Kara grabbed the one he was holding out of his hand, and quickly ate it. Because why not, and she was a little bit hungry after getting blasted a few times and thrown into a building.

“That’s really nice, Quentin, and I get that you want to relax a little.” She said. “But remember what I said about using powers?”

“Yes, you said you didn’t know whether or not I should use mine for this purpose.” Querl answered. “But I did, and now my work is completed, for now.”

He looked up at her in confusion, his dark eyes suddenly sad-looking, as though she’d kicked a puppy in front of him.

“Was it not… good enough?”

“It’s fine.” She said, attempting to be reassuring. “If you’re just doing your own work, as long as you’re subtle about it. But doing someone else’s?”

“I wanted to.” He answered. “I was trying to please her- besides, you said I should try to interact with others, even if it made me uncomfortable. She wanted to know of my progress, so I told her, and she then gave her work to me to complete, which I did.”

Kara sighed. “If something makes you uncomfortable, talk to me about it.” She said. “Come find me, or- you don’t have a phone, we have to fix that. Anyway. The point is-“

“I understand, do not worry.”

“Okay, we’ll talk later, it’s fine, it’s still gonna be great-“

“Kara?”

“Lena! Surprise visit to Catco?”

Lena ducked her head slightly, before looking back up, and smiling at Kara.

“No, I’m here to see you, actually.” She said.

“You are.”

Lena nodded. “L-Corp is hosting a party this weekend, it’s a gala fundraiser for the children’s hospital after that horrific attack on their new building.”

Kara bristled, wishing she could tell her I’m sorry. But of course she couldn’t, so she stayed silent, smiling and nodding while Lena was talking to her.

“…I was hoping you’d come.”

“You’re hosting a gala.” Querl said, rising from his seat. “I would be happy to-“

Offer my services, should you and your guests need any protection, he thought. But Kara apparently figured out what he was thinking, and nodded, before speaking to Lena.

“Can he be my guest?” Kara asked. “He’s new in town, this might be a good way for him to meet some more people.”

“Oh, of course your friend can come.” Lena said, keeping her focus on Kara, while also glancing at Querl. “You are literally my only friend in National City. Most people wouldn’t touch a Luthor with a ten-foot pole.”

“Yes, I understand.” Querl said, partially hoping one of them had heard him as Lena continued.

“It would really mean a lot to me if you were there.”

“Of course I’ll come. I’m honored.” Kara answered. “Both of us.”

“Right.” Lena said, turning to Querl. “What’s your name?”

“Quentin- um, Quentin Alak Richards, if that is what you inquired about.”

“Well, Quentin Alak Richards, find yourself a nice suit, and I’ll see you there.” Lena answered, before turning away.

“Bye!” Kara said, and as she left, Querl turned to Kara.

“We are going to a party.” He said, nervousness creeping into his voice. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Kara answered. “But if you aren’t…”

“No, it will be fine. I will handle it.” Querl said. “One request?”

“What is it?”

“Help me find a suit, please?”

“Of course. But, after work.” ~ At the moment, Querl had decided that the best course of action was to be transparent, with the DEO. Seeing as how they didn’t trust him, or at least trusted him conditionally, he was going to tell them the truth- or rather, whatever truths he could tell that didn’t violate the timeline.

And this plan was going well, if Kara’s confidence in him and his tentative friendship with Winn was any indication. But although he was becoming friends with the two of them, and wanted to build work relationships with the others in Kara’s circle, he still had to keep one secret, that were they to find out would reset all of those potential relationships. Thus, making it so they didn’t trust him at all, even though he had his reasons.

Despite his uneasiness about what he’d done, however, he was thankful he had installed a “bug” in the DEO, allowing him to listen in on what Winn and Alex were discussing at the moment. Namely, the photon cannon used at the scene of the crime, followed by Winn and Alex discussing the emotional state of Maggie- one of Alex’s friends, apparently, who was a police officer who wasn’t good at pool and whom Alex denied romantic interest in.

But Querl listened more intently when he heard talk of another attack, even though he couldn’t participate. Kara did, however, and as he continued to work he saw her fly back down from somewhere in the atmosphere, holding another police officer whose car had been launched halfway into orbit.

That couldn’t keep one of his thought tracks distracted forever, though, and in the meantime there was Eve.

Eve Tessmacher, who apparently needed him to go with her to deliver something downstairs in marketing, and by the time he’d finished, she was taking him into a storage closet.

“Who are you, really?” she asked. “You’re… you’re just an intern. But you aren’t really, are you? I saw you working, no human could get through paperwork that quickly especially on their first day. Nobody could learn that fast.”

“I… have a Master’s degree? And this is all the work I could find?”

She pushed him against the wall.

“Nice try. Who do you work for?”

“We both work for Catco Worldwide Media, Miss Tessmacher. I thought that was clear. And that you would know that, as you’ve worked here longer than I have.”

“Cut the bullshit.” She snapped, tightening her grip on his arms. “Are you from Leviathan? Or maybe Cadmus? Who sent you?”

Querl blinked. The last thing he wanted was to “play dumb”, but truthfully he didn’t know what she was talking about- so he had to improvise.

“If I was from one of those, what would that mean to you?”

“That I should be paying more attention to you than I thought.” Eve answered. “But if you are just another really smart guy, who wasn’t planted here to spy on- no, I shouldn’t say that- then I don’t think I can let you out of here knowing what you do now.”

Before Querl could do anything, or activate the forcefield he’d hidden in his belt, there was a knife at his throat, and Eve was uncomfortably close.

“Now, for the last time, tell me your secrets.” She whispered, voice low, a far cry from the bubbliness she’d exuded earlier. “Or I’ll-“

There were footsteps outside, approaching voices from the hallway, and Eve stared at Querl suddenly, eyes taking on a panicked look. She put the knife away, and Querl felt her hands (cold, with sharp nails) under his shirt, climbing upwards as she held him closer. Before he knew it, she was kissing him, and Kara was opening the door.

She stumbled back against the wall, apparently partially in shock and not happy about what was going on, and Eve quickly pulled away from him.

“Tell anyone about this, and I’ll kill you.” She whispered into his ear. Then she gave her best apologetic looks to Kara and James as she walked out of the storage closet, going into a detailed explanation of what had happened.

Querl, meanwhile, fell into step on Kara’s other side, staying silent- only partially because of Eve’s threat. But even when he did try to explain himself, she wasn’t hearing it at the moment, and he resigned himself to having to save his explanation for later.

It looks like we are back to “square one” after all.

~ Luckily, however (in the midst of his attempting to come up with a proper apology to Kara for the lapse in judgment he experienced, and the one responsible for such a lapse- as well as finding excuses to avoid Eve) Querl was able to additionally focus on another matter, as Winn came through Catco the next morning.

“Brainy!” Winn said, smiling at him. “Oh, I’m glad you’re here. Can you come with me, just for a second?”

“Of course, although it will be far longer than a second.” Querl answered. “What is it?”

Winn gave him the short explanation as they go to James’s office- the previous night, James had come to the DEO with a question about how possible targets were found, and then later that very night he’d found footage of James leading some people out of an apartment complex that was dissolving thanks to one of the alien weapons.

“James is being stupid.” Winn said. “Can you convince him he doesn’t have to be alone in this, whatever he’s trying to do?”

“I will do my best.” Querl answered.

Winn clapped him on the shoulder.

“Perfect. I’ll be right back, I’m gonna talk to him first.” He said. “You just wait here, buddy.”

A moment later, he and James came back from the Catco balcony, only for James to see Querl there, arms folded and doing his best to look appropriately stern.

“Not you too.” James said. “What, is this an intervention?”

“No, we just want to make sure you’re not getting in over your head.” Winn answered. “Well, I do. Brainy’s here because I dragged him in.”

“Yes, I am.” Querl said. “But what Winn is saying is true.”

James sighed, exasperated. “Look, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Okay then, enlighten us. Because all I see here is- is a dude with a baseball bat and a ski mask and a death wish.”

James leaned against his desk, not looking at Winn as he spoke.

“My whole life, I’ve been a sidekick.” He said. “I have hidden behind my camera, while my best friends wear capes, and they’re heroes, and they save people. And I want to do something good for the world. This job is good and all, but… I want to give people another hero they can look up to, and make a difference outside of this office and this company. And I feel like I’ve waited too long already.”

He turned to Winn, and Querl sat down, moving away from the two of them.

“Winn, you found the work that you’re supposed to do at the DEO.” He said. “I haven’t, not here. But I feel like this is it.”

“I hate to break it to you, but you don’t have superpowers.” Winn said. “I get it, being a hero is addictive… but you can’t fly, or anything.”

“That doesn’t mean he can’t be a hero.” Querl answered. “James, I have a friend, Val- he has no powers either. But he is the best combatant I know, and once even took down Superman in a fight. I thought I didn’t need to learn anything from anyone, due to my intellect, but I have learned from him. And others could learn from your example. But you must not put your heroism above your personal needs, or your self-preservation.”

“And that means…”

“If you don’t have a death wish, you’re gonna let us help you.” Winn answered. “Right, Brainy?”

“Yes. I will assist as much as I can.”

“Great.” Winn said. “So, you really sure about this?”

“I am.” James said. “I’m ready.”

“Then we’re ready, too.” Winn said.

“I agree with Winslow.”

~ It was the night of the gala, and Querl found Kara eating potstickers.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, before confirming that it was her. She turned around to face him, and immediately froze.

“Kara. Please forgive me- I am sorry, for what happened.”

Kara gulped down the potsticker she’d been eating.

“It’s okay, really- it’s fine, I’m not gonna yell at you again. Just… well, I had a talk with Alex, and I realized that I should let you be who you are. And who you are isn’t me. So if you want to get it on with Miss Tessmacher, be my guest. Please don’t share that with me though if you do, I really don’t want to hear it.”

“I didn’t intend to do anything with her.” He said. “On the contrary, it was she who accosted me- and, you were right.”

Kara was halfway through another potsticker, and she gulped it down before staring at him in surprise.

“About what?”

“She found me suspicious.” He answered. “Thought I worked for… well, she mentioned Cadmus as an option.”

“Tell her you’d never work for them.” She said. “And I’m sorry too.”

“Then we are even.” Querl said.

“Good.” Kara answered. “Where’s the suit from?”

“Oh, you like it?”

Kara nodded.

“Yeah, it’s nice.”

“Winn got me a “credit card”, in addition to 21st century identification, since I have a job now.” He said. “I promised I wouldn’t spend too much of the money I will soon earn, and then picked out this suit.”

“Well, I think it was money well-spent.” Kara said. “So, are you going to be staying at Catco?”

“For as long as I have to, to pay this off.” Querl answered. “And because I do enjoy it there, suspicious coworkers aside. It’s almost relaxing, to have so little expected of you. And you’d know that, wouldn’t you?”

“I did have to deal with seventh grade when I got here.” Kara said. “I knew a lot of things, but there was also so much I had to hide, and more that I needed to learn. I don’t think I really appreciated that until later.”

“I understand.” Querl said, looking around at the crowd while Kara was finishing one of her last potstickers, folding the others up in a loose napkin. “Did you dance, on Krypton?”

“Yeah.” Kara answered. “What about you?”

“I never learned. But perhaps… you could teach me?”

He offered his hand to her, and she took it, leading him out onto the floor. Though they danced quickly, Querl was able to follow in her lead, and for a moment, he could imagine being happy with her.

Then sparks started to fly, sending smoke high up into the air as the attackers who’d been responsible for the robberies strode out, and Kara placed a hand on Querl’s shoulder.

“Help everyone get out of here.” She said. “Keep them calm. Then wait for me.”

“I will.” He promised.

And he did as he was told, at first- though the crowd was in too much of a panic to listen to him, so instead he found himself sliding under a table that was already occupied by Winn and Lena.

“Do you two mind?” she said, sounding a little irritated.

“That’s a black-body field generator.” Querl pointed out, as Winn stared at the device in awe.

Lena smiled at him. “Yes- if we can get it working.”

“This whole party- you set a trap for these guys.” Winn said.

“Yeah, but it’ll fail unless I can get this operational.”

“Unless we can get this operational.” Querl corrected. “Is it at equilibrium with the alien weapons?”

“It will be.” Lena said, fiddling with the device with one hand, holding a flashlight in the other.

“Right, and once it is, it’ll absorb the electromagnetic radiation.” Winn added. “So it’ll shut them down- this is genius!”

“I know, but the frequency and the wavelength, they’re a match, so-“

“The induction coil.” The three of them said at once. Together, they attempted to put everything into place as carefully as possible- each taking a turn, until finally they’d gotten it working, and Lena activated the device. It sent out an energy field that attracted the weapons to it, high above the crowd’s heads, and all three of the guns self-combusted.

Winn, Lena, and Querl crawled out from the table, looking slightly dazed as Kara looked at them with suspicion.

“We weren’t-“ Winn started. “Uh- under there, um- we stopped it!”

Kara continued to look unsure, like she had no idea what to say- but at least she started to smile, turning to James as both of them laughed.

“Alright. Now, let’s get everyone out.”

~ “Good morning.” Kara said, opening the door to Querl’s room and turning the lights on again.

“You- am I late for work?”

“No.” Kara answered. “I just wanted to know if you wanted to get coffee with me- not bribery coffee. Actual coffee.”

“Oh.” Querl said, sitting up and turning to her. “Are we friends again?”

“Well, you did manage to help destroy some weapons that would’ve been really bad news if they’d stayed in the wrong hands, so yeah, I’d say so.” She said. “And… it was nice, dancing with you.”

“Good.” Querl answered. “Coffee it is. But, are you still mad at me?”

“I don’t know.” Kara said. “We’ll see.”

“Then that is good enough.” Querl said.

“…But I get the feeling you don’t exactly want to be an intern.” She continued, walking closer to him. “When I was younger, I had no idea what I wanted to be, here on Earth. I had a family, to help me and guide me, but ultimately I had to make my own choices. And I admit, I was trying to impose those choices on you.”

“I do not mind.” Querl answered.

“I know, but… when you landed, I was so excited to have someone to take under my wing.” Kara said. “Even though you’re also a hero in your own right. And I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but since I never got to do this with my cousin, it’s been nice having someone to look after.”

“While I may not need looking after, if there was anyone I’d have introducing me to twenty-first century culture, I’d prefer it would be you.” Querl answered. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Kara said, as Querl moved his pillow aside for her to sit down there. “And since you are your own man, and your life here is going to be very different from mine- which is fine, and great-, I figured if you decide to stop being an intern, you should pick something that you like. And I’ll be here to help you, wherever you need me to be.”

“Very well.” Querl said, and Kara pulled something out of her coat pocket.

“I got you something.” She said, handing it to him. “It’s a guide to National City. So even if I’m not there, you can always find your way around. And… look for other jobs.”

“Thank you again, Kara.” Querl answered, folding it neatly. “So. Coffee?”

“Right. Coffee sounds great about now.”

[soveryanon]

Part 3 of The Magnus Archives liveblogging; MAG034 to MAG040 *strangled mix of happy and sad noises* (As usual: contains spoilers (until the end of season 3) that I really should not have known anything about, were I a decent person, with also the possibility that I misunderstood said spoilers.) (One last time: warning for… length.)

… when I had mentioned to @sazandorable​ about the end of MAG033 that ahaha, Jon’s audible frustration seemed to be his equivalent of (╯°Д°）╯︵ ┻━┻ flipping a table, I had been answered with a “:))) Flipping a table, you say.” And now that I've listened to what followed, obviously, let’s be clear, I’m so, so mad about her comment, but at the same time, it’s the only one I could have ever accepted.

One of the first things I ever heard about the series was Aza commenting about the podcast she was listening to that had one assistant replaced, but nobody had noticed she wasn’t the same. So given that Sasha was the one female assistant… I knew it would be her. The statement about Graham Folger (MAG003) had made me guess that something similar would happen but I hadn’t understood that the problem was apparently the table. So when ~something big~ was delivered in MAG035, then confirmed to be a table in MAG036, I was expecting that it would be the thing that would get Sasha killed, and indeed, the table it was ;; (AND IT STINGS EVEN MORE THAN WHAT I BELIEVED.)

Alternative headlines for this post: - Local man SAVAGELY MURDERS ONE OF MARTIN’S SPIDER ROOMMATES, unleashes worms apocalypse in the process. -

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched.

Me, having been wondering for a while where I stand as a receptor/listener/audience, pen in hand and ready to take notes, wondering how long it will take for him to squeeze out his backstory or any personal information: *whispers softly* I have no idea what you’re talking about, sweetie.

That said.

Gooooooooooooooods, I’m so maaaaaaad about Jon =D

You got me, you scoundrel!!

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Of course, I believe. Of course I do. Have you ever taken a look at the stuff we have in Artefact storage? That’s enough to convince anyone. But, but even before that… Why do you think I started working here? It’s not exactly glamorous. I have… I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Within reason. I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe… thirty, forty that are… that go on tape. Now those, I believe, at least for the most part.

I WAS WONDERING SO HARD WHY YOU WERE WORKING THERE, YEAH!!! It was so fitting with his overall… attitude, that yes, he would be a sceptic and dismiss most of the supernatural cases, except for the few that he was a bit more knowledgeable about, mostly Jane Prentiss and the Leitner books. Of course he would, with his elitism and scholar haughtiness!!  I had assumed that he would get convinced with due facts over the course of the series. I wasn’t expecting that actually, no, he had always believed in those things and was just lying through his teeth while recording!! Despite the fact that I was strongly suspecting that he was being an Unreliable Narrator!! (I had guessed that yes, he was hiding some information; not that he was purposely trying to mislead whoever was listening when it came to his personal opinions in the matter.)

It mostly gave me two good keys to handle the series: on the one hand, that characters are aware of the oddities around them. Obviously, as a listener, you immediately guess that if only a few statements resist technology, then it might be because these ones are paranormal, unlike the ones that work on computer just fine, which are probably a load of bullcrap; but you also accept that… characters might be a bit dumber, because they’re in a story and, well, it’s easier to guess about the narrative when you’re not inside of it? But nop. They were aware from the start that there are paranormal events around them, that the Institute is a living proof of it, and that the fact that some statements weren’t recording on computer meant something about them.

(MAG039) SASHA: Jon, what did you mean by “real statements”? ARCHIVIST: You know what I mean. The ones that have weird wrinkles, or that just seem to have something solid to them. They all have one thing in common. SASHA: They don’t record digitally. ARCHIVISTl: And we have to use the tape recorder. At this stage, if it records to my laptop I almost don’t bother.

And on the other hand, it also explained to me that Jon, as a main character, might hide things from us (listeners/tape recorders) or from other characters, and that there can be a gap between the moment he does realize something and the moment he feels ready to publicly admit it. Which, obviously, makes things way more challenging!! And interesting!! I’ve been liking him more and more lately anyway but this, by itself, would have been a good reason to decide that okay, yes, I surrender, I do Like Him A Lot as a character. … Okay, no, to be perfectly honest: I do love him as a character, he has achieved that status already.

Jonathan “You smoke?” “Nnnnnoooooo…” Sims

* eufinjkrefdhuinjIUHJNUILBUTHJNIUYB JOOOOOOOONNNNNNN………

(MAG036) TIM: Er, what is it? ARCHIVIST: A lighter. An old Zippo. TIM: You smoke? ARCHIVIST: No. … And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!

(I like his tone here! First a bit distant, pensive?, then firm and almost scolding; the Archives are now His Baby and he didn’t want to give Tim any bad ideas, uh.) Ooooh, that self-righteous tone he used followed by the return of his stuck-up voice, which kind of implied “how dare you even suggest I might have smoked one cigarette in my lifetime!! And you better not do it in my Archives or I’ll skin you!!”, vs. three episodes later:

(MAG039) SASHA: […] I think John’s got a lighter somewhere. ELIAS: He’s not smoking again, is he?

… JON, YOU LITTLE SHIT. *buries face in hands* So yeah, he used to smoke, but it doesn’t match with his Respectable Image apparently so he won’t even tell his own assistants. (I’m still HYSTERICAL over his deadpan answer to Tim… yes, this is not a lie, but it’s the moment you should mention you used to smoke if you want to be absolutely honest, and he just. he just didn’t. and dodged. and almost scolded Tim. JON. JON. J O N!!!) * Relatedly, I LOVE HOW HE CAN STILL BE AN ELITIST STUCK-UP ASS IN TIMES OF CRISIS. When ~something~ was banging on the wall and threatening to break it down, and they were assuming that it was Jane Prentiss/the worms:

(MAG039) MARTIN: I thought that wall was meant to be solid?! ARCHIVIST: So did I. We don’t have any sort of weapon, do we? MARTIN: I mean… I mean, I suppose we could use— ARCHIVIST: Don’t say the corkscrew! MARTIN: Okay.

The corkscrew SAVED YOUR LIFE, Jon, show it a bit more respect!! (Poor Martin who just… obeyed this one.) * It’s… not exactly surprising, but noteworthy to point out that Jon never wondered why he was being targeted by Jane Prentiss.

(MAG022) ARCHIVIST: I just received another text message. From you. “Keep him. We have had our fun. He will want to see it when the Archivist’s crimson fate arrives.” MARTIN: What does that mean? ARCHIVIST: It means I ask Elias to hire some extra security.

(MAG039) PRENTISS: Archivist. TIM: Ah. ARCHIVIST: Shit.

Jane Prentiss was here for him, and she/it/they made it pretty clear all along. Yet, Jon never questioned it; why would he, personally, be the one to get targeted? It… does make sense, given Jon’s personality, to think that he just thought that yes, if someone had to be pursued, it would be him, but it’s still curious that he… absolutely rolled with it. Never wondered if he had caused something that would lead him to deserve this situation, or if he had any connection to Jane Prentiss somehow, nothing. (My spoiled self takes note that she used the “Archivist” title every time, and that for her/it/them, Archivists are probably interchangeable? The thing she was becoming hated the last one, so she went after the following one. Is it absolutely because of Martin that she targeted the Archives, because he had accidentally met her, or was she planning to go after them at some point anyway?) * He was all Defensive about “MY ARCHIVE” and all, but his standards dropped quickly when it came to Jane Prentiss vomiting in their files:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: What’s [Jane Prentiss] doing? MARTIN: I don’t know. She’s messing with the boxes. She’s holding one up and… ahh! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: She’s… She’s destroying them. Sort of. ARCHIVIST: Sort of? MARTIN: Well, I don’t really know what that stuff coming out of her mouth is, but I think we should probably burn them. ARCHIVIST: Right.

I was expecting Jon to take offense about Martin’s suggestion, to scream something along the lines of Over My Dead Body, Martin, but nop. Suddenly, burning their own files doesn’t seem so Out Of The Question anymore, uh. * I realize that I never really wondered about what kind of computer Jon is using for work. I just assumed, I just know he can only be using a Mac (not tech-oriented enough for Linux; way too snobby to use Windows; so Mac it is. Search Your Feelings, You Know It To Be True.) * I was amused and curious at the beginning of MAG034 (the one with Dr. Lionel Elliott), since Jon sounded… way less harsh with him than with Naomi or Melanie, the only live statement-givers so far excluding Martin&Sasha. So I was wondering: was that casual sexism or casual elitism, since Dr. Elliott was a scholar? Was Jon a bit more sympathetic with him because of affinity with fellow academics? AND THEN JON’S POST-STATEMENT MADE IT CLEAR THAT IT WAS BECAUSE “FELLOW ACADEMICS” ARE USUALLY THE ENEMY.

(MAG034) ARCHIVIST: The first thing about this statement that makes me dubious is that it comes from a fellow academic. Historic and prestigious as the Magnus Institute is, there are still many within the sphere of higher education that do not grant it the respect it deserves, and some have been known to make false statements as ill-conceived jokes.

So Jon is able to get cautious when he feels like being an ass could damage the Institute’s reputation, uh? Also, that’s super rich coming from Mister “I was initially inclined to re-file this statement in the ‘Discredited’ section of the Archive, a new category I’ve created that will, I suspect, be housing the majority of these files” (MAG001). It was also super-funny to have… someone who was closer to a “reflection” of Jon himself than previous statement-givers:

(MAG034) ARCHIVIST: And the apple, did you… eat it? DR. ELLIOTT:  Do I look like an idiot?!

Take that, Jon =DDD (I mean, yes, sorry Dr Elliott, you probably do look like an idiot to Jon, but then everyone does, and Jon himself has admitted that he is one, so.)

(MAG034) ARCHIVIST: Oh good lord! That’s… DR. ELLIOTT: Deeply unpleasant, yes. You can keep it, if you want. As proof. ARCHIVIST: We do not want it. I’m afraid it isn’t really proof.

“Deeply unpleasant” sounds like something Jon would have usually said, and I’m still cackling hard that Jon Didn’t Want The Apple but used a “we” to cover his own personal disgust before trying to back-up his rejection with ~logical arguments~ (“I just said it was enough of a possibility that I don’t think your… tooth apple has a place in our artefact storage. Also, it is technically medical waste.”), pffft. And he still ended up taking the apple!! Or at least the teeth. * Too classy for puns, but will do them anyway, and TWICE, TO BE SURE THAT EVERYBODY HAS HEARD HIS JOKES, JON PLEASE, YOU NEED A LIFE… YOU NEED FRIENDS THAT AREN’T TAPE RECORDERS… (Especially with his “You should have seen Tim’s face when […]”: if the only “you” in his life is the damn tape recorder, then yeah. Jon no.)

(MAG035) ARCHIVIST: […] On the one hand, this statement represents a complete dead end […]. From an evidence standpoint, this case is a complete bust. […] It seems we’ve reached something of a dead end. No pun intended.

And it wasn’t the first time he was making puns (MAG024: “No details are given, but it apparently required Mr Rentoul’s hospitalisation. I’m reminded of a somewhat tasteless joke about loose tongues.”) and he even had already made this one (MAG029: “Aside from that it’s almost a complete dead end.”) and would again make it later (MAG036: “Another tale full of dead ends.”) So, obligatory “dead end(s)” joke when a death is involved, but he just has trouble owning up to his puns when he makes them, uh. But he does anyway, and it seems like the universe just loves to give him his due for his puns!

(MAG035) ARCHIVIST: […] End recor— Urgh! Goddamn it! [SOUND OF METAL CANISTER BEING KNOCKED] Martin! [DOOR OPENS] Martin, where did you put the rest of the extinguishers? Martin!

Here, that was terrible, have some worms! I’m so fond of the way his voice just… switched, from cold professional sternness to sheer disgust. (It sounded like just another day, at the same time… So yeah, not the first time worms managed to sneak into the Archives at this point, apparently.) * Compared to the last batch of episodes, I had the faint feeling that Jon miiiiight be a bit better lately? That he sounded less tired overall? But then, his conversation with Tim in MAG036 made it obvious that… no, there is still lingering tiredness: he’s less in control of his voice when he’s surprised or questioned, needs more pauses before wording something, sounds like he’s searching for what to say (even though his answers stay sharp)…

(MAG036) TIM: Oh, ah, nothing urgent, um, it’s just Elias was asking a couple questions about the delivery. ARCHIVIST: Delivery? What delivery? TIM: Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh! Um, apparently Martin, uh, took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you. Did he not mention it? ARCHIVIST: No, he… Oh, yes, actually. I completely forgot. He said he put it in my desk drawer, hold on.

… and he didn’t even pay attention to the delivery Martin had mentioned. mARTIN IS A GOOD BOY, it’s just you (/your memory) (/your current state) that sucks, Jon!! Someone sure is sleep-deprived, to forget things like this. (Sadly relatable.) The following episode just confirmed that yep, Jon was, in fact, Not Doing Any Better Sleep-wise:

(MAG037) MARTIN: […] Look, you need to get some sleep. [SILENCE] … I’ll see you later. […] ARCHIVIST: […] I have no idea what any of this means. I’m… very tired.

(Or was it because Jon took two statements consecutively? It’s not confirmed that MAG036 and MAG037 took place on the same day but it’s most likely: MAG036 ended with Jon announcing that he needed to talk to Martin, with some urgency, and MAG037 began with Jon ordering Martin to repeat what he had said on tape, and then using the same tape for his next statement.) Anyway, Martin has noticed that Jon is not fine ;____; * AND MARTIN NOTICED AGAIN that Jon is not fine in MAG040, as soon as the record begins, and despite the fact that Martin himself is exhausted:

(MAG040) MARTIN: [Tired] I mean, I already told the police. ARCHIVIST: Well, now tell me. I need to hear it, I need to record it. MARTIN: I… alright. … Are you okay? ARCHIVIST: Fine. Painkillers are starting to wear off, but… It’s fine.

(Martin’s small tired voice, while Jon’s was more impatient/jumpy, with the usual sharpness… but yeah, way less controlled. Pain sneaking its way back into his system.) The fact that the painkillers’ effects were wearing off and that the real state of his body was catching up on Jon was audible just with the way he was introducing statements this time around:

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Statement of Elias Bouchard, Head of the Magnus Institute, regarding the… infestation, by the… entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss. Statement recorded direct from subject, 29th July 2016. … Whenever you’re ready.

[…] ARCHIVIST: […] Anyway. Statement of Timothy Stoker, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, regarding the infestation by the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss. Statement recorded direct from subject, 29th July 2016. Just… take it from when you got back from lunch.

[…] ARCHIVIST: Statement of Sasha James, archival assistant at the Magnus Institute, regarding the invasion by the entity formerly known as Jane Prentiss. Statement recorded direct from subject, 29th July 2016. In your own time.

[…] ARCHIVIST: […] It’s fine. Statement of Martin Blackwood, archival assistant, etcetera, etcetera. Go.

From getting back to the gist of it with Elias (and having to summarize what happened with Jane Prentiss in a few words), to repeating it almost words for words with Tim and Sasha (I hate your memory, Jon.), to butchering it with Martin because he is all out of spoons. * Though yeah, Jon A Bit High On Painkillers was a thing at the beginning of MAG040, too:

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Our friends in the hazmat suits gave me a clean bill of health, bloody holes notwithstanding. And they seemed quite keen to quarantine anyone showing even the slightest sign of infection. It’s just… pain.

He was a bit nasal and out of it at the beginning of this one, that “Our friends in–” was hilarious, and I’m… not surprised, but howling a bit that Jon, even when exhausted and just coming out of traumatic events, with drugs in his system, casually uses the word “notwithstanding” (nonobstant!). Not fine, but still himself.

* I did notice that from MAG035 to MAG038, Jon was… not tearing down statements to pieces anymore in his follow-ups, not really. Those ones were a bunch of sad stories, and I wondered if Jon was trying to avoid being completely insensitive about these people (he was less judgemental, more neutral about the impossibility to cross-check information), or if he was just tired and fed up, or if he was getting convinced that yes, maybe, maybe there were dark forces at work down there… With MAG039’s reveals in mind, it’s probably that he was caring less and less about His Plan To Pretend That He Was Not Believing, uh ;; (But I’m glad I did notice that he sounded… less and less sceptic. Congrats, Jon, you kept that up for months!). * Does Jon even listen to his own recordings so far? It seems unlikely, since Tim had brought up a list of mistakes (MAG033) and Martin’s conversation with Breekon&Hope was recorded after MAG035’s statement, but Jon didn’t sound like he had heard it in MAG036 nor at the beginning of MAG037 (he asked for all the details that Martin could remember, but he could have had the audio information, at the very least, if he had listened to their conversation – or maybe he wanted the visual details?). We didn’t have any mention that not!Sasha had harmed the tape from MAG039 that Jon had kept, and the real Sasha had talked on that one too, so if Jon doesn’t realize soon that the voices are different… it might hint that he never relistened to that one either; which is a bit more understandable in that particular case (it was a testimony of his own traumatic experience, and he’s been clearly shaken by it). But overall: I don’t even know if it’s bad archiving practice, but at the very least: not proof-reading (/proof-listening?) is bad researching practice and Jon is giving me second-hand embarrassment. (<3)

(MAG037) ARCHIVIST: Waste of tape, really. [Martin]’s right. Might as well get some use out of it.

So Jon had a statement ready to be read…? Although he had recorded one not too long ago…? When would he have chosen to record this one, if not for the recorder being already on? (Also, please, someone explain to Jon that you can wipe and overwrite tapes. To get a fresh empty one for a later statement. Do students and researchers really need to hear you pressuring poor Martin to repeat the same information and being an overall ass to him?) * About Jon’s unreliability – or, at least, the fact that he isn’t sharing Everything with us. When he learned from Tim about the table that was delivered to the Institute for him, he inquired:

(MAG036) ARCHIVIST: Tim… Tim, it doesn’t have a hole in it, does it? About six inches square?

… But the only description we had of the table so far was Amy Patel’s, who had mentioned “the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole” (MAG003). There was no mention of the size of the hole. So I was wondering: was Jon able to know this because he’s actually getting supernaturally immersed in the statements (insert here all the imagery about falling/diving into a book, living the story as you read, etc.) and notices a lot more details than what was technically written, when he reads them? But then, when I mentioned this to Aza, she laughed and said that I also could have guessed the size of the hole on my own. … and yup, there sure was a mention of an item of that size: “a small wooden box, about six inches square” from Ivo Lensik’s statement (MAG008). Which means that THIS FUCKER CONNECTED THOSE DOTS AND DIDN’T BOTHER MENTIONING HIS CONCLUSIONS ONTAPE. EFF YOOOOOU JOOOOOON, HOW DARE YOU DO THIS TO ME. He guessed that the box that was destroyed on November 2006 (MAG008) was the item that was supposed to fit into Graham Folger’s table – Graham having been “replaced” on April 7th 2006 (MAG001) – and never mentioned any of it, it’s just. RUDE. RUDE, JON. RUDE. * brb, still rolling on the floor over the fact that the Scepticism Was All An Act… Because JON WAS SCARED…….

(MAG039) MARTIN: Then why do you— ARCHIVIST: Because I’m scared, Martin! Because when I record these statements it feels… it feels like I’m being watched. I… I lose myself a bit. And then when I come back, it’s like… like if I admit there may be any truth to it, whatever’s watching will… know somehow. The scepticism, feigning ignorance. It just felt safer. MARTIN: Well… It wasn’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, it wasn’t. Still, it’s not my fault we’re going to be eaten by worms.

That sounds very convoluted and at the same time… understandable and raw? Human? The fact that Jon was searching for his words and clearly remembering something unpleasant… aouch… I was wondering about the effects these statements had on Jon, Jane Prentiss’s aside, and aouch, he is able to tell that… there is something more. (Is that feeling due to their god, since I know there is somethingsomething about feeding the monster, or is that Elias in particular?) (And I love how Jon switches from giving a genuine confession about how he really feels and showing vulnerability… to compensating with bratty defence. “Still, it’s not my fault we’re going to be eaten by worms.” lISTEN, yes, technically not your fault, but Prentiss also quite clearly targets you and you only, so you could at least sympathize with Martin about how it’s even less his fault.) * Jon himself acknowledging that he is an idiot is… Beautiful…

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: [Bitter laugh] I hope so. Only an idiot would stay in this job. MARTIN: [Chuckles] Wouldn’t that make you an idiot? ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin, that was my point.

(Fortunately, Martin does things that Jon sees as “stupid”, too, so hey! Good match.

(MAG039) MARTIN: Well, so the worms didn’t know they were there! Look, I know it’s stupid. ARCHIVIST: Yes. Yes it is. They’re just… they’re just unclassified parasites. They don’t have consciousness, they can’t plan, they’re just an unthinking infection.

I’m still “………..” over the fact that Jon can word it that way with a straight face/voice.) * He countered Martin’s pessimism later but there was also an instance where he was… very grim and matter-of-fact, resigned, about Tim’s chances of survival, and it hurt.

(MAG039) SASHA: Turn around. Just turn around. MARTIN: Oh god. There she is, there she is. ARCHIVIST: [Muttering] There’s nothing we can do.

But in the same episode, there was ultimately some Trust And Complicity between Tim and Jon, that I’m not really able to describe.

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] I’m recording this in case— TIM: In case the trapdoor opens back into the Archives and Prentiss is there to kill us. ARCHIVIST: In as many words, yes. Tim? TIM: Alright. [TRAPDOOR IS PUSHED OPEN TO SOUND OF FIRE ALARM AND LOTS OF WRITHING] PRENTISS: Archivist. TIM: Ah. ARCHIVIST: Shit. [CLICK]

If it had been Martin, Jon would have snapped, probably. But Tim summarizing their worst case scenario like this? Got a free pass. (Also, that was, once again, one hell of a way to end an episode. JON. JON SAID “SHIT”. HOLY FUCKING FUCK. You knew it means Seriously Bad.) ;; They went in that… together, uh. Despite the fact that Tim was clearly collateral damage. * I had wondered a lot about whether or not Jon was afraid of dying, or had a special stance about death… and it sounds like it was more a matter of how he could die, without being able to have a say in the circumstances surrounding it. As a result, Jon sounded past everything, reaching a point in which okay, yes, he could laugh about the possibility of dying, it was coming and he could try to face it since it would be on his terms (recording everything). I am also a bit surprised that apparently, he is way more afraid of dying of ~rational~ causes (bullets means guns means clear intent from a human behind the act) than from a supernatural entity.

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Gertrude Robinson, the last Archivist at the Magnus Institute, and my predecessor, was murdered. […] She was killed, in the Archives, by someone who used a gun… and that scares me far more than any spectre or twisted creature. Because that means someone here is a killer. […] There is something in these files, in these statements. I know that now, some deeper mystery. I think Gertrude Robinson found it, and I think that is why they killed her.

The… sheer… dread… in Jon’s voice in that second sentence… (complete with a self-depreciative half-laugh/shaking of voice)……. his delivery was slower, way less firm than usual, and I wanted to learn more about Jon, I wanted to get to know the real actual Jon under the layers of this façade, and I’m getting it… through the form of terror… * There were a string of declarations about “seeing” starting MAG038, mostly from Jon, which culminated with Sasha’s death and replacement at the end of MAG039, and aouch T_T First, Jon and the spider:

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: […] Urgh. Urgh. [SOUND OF CHAIR SCRAPING] I see you…

(MAG038) SASHA: […] Do you see anything? […] ARCHIVIST: No, I don’t think so, it… [WORM SOUND INTENSIFIES] Sasha, run. RU—

(You don’t see worms, you hear/smell them first…?)

(MAG039) SASHA: Do you see Prentiss? If we could get her— MARTIN: I, I, I don’t see her! I don’t see her! I don’t see her! I don’t see her!

(MAG039) SASHA: Can you see what’s going on out there? MARTIN: Ish. When did we last clean these doors? ARCHIVIST: What can you see?

(MAG039) MARTIN: There! There, there, there! I see him! SASHA: Oh god, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see them.

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Right. There we go. Martin, what do you see? […] I need you to describe what’s going on.

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] Speaking of, can you see anything? MARTIN: I don’t know. I can’t see because the window is covered in worms.

(MAG039) TIM: Why do you have a second tape recorder, Martin? MARTIN: Oh, um… well, I’ve been using it to record myself. I write poetry and I think the tapes have a sort of… low-fi charm. ARCHIVIST: … I see.

(MAG039) SASHA: […] [Hushed and panicked] Jon! Jon, I think there’s someone here. Hello? I see you. Show yourself.

(MAG039) NOT!SASHA: [Words warped] Hello? … I see you. [FOOTSTEPS] [Clearly] I see you.

(… In a lot of cases, circumstances and tones, though, Martin was saying that he couldn’t see. Mm…) * I had discovered tired!Jon with last batch of episodes, but I now have… shaken!Jon. Very, very shaken Jon. He insists on getting other people’s statements in MAG040, despite not being fine, and in the end… we don’t know, technically, what happened when Tim and Jon went face to holes-in-the-face with Prentiss? Jon insists on skipping the subject every time it comes up (because he already knows what happened to him): but what happened exactly? Did they have time to try to flee? Did they scramble to get away? Was it Prentiss launching worms at them (like with the nurses when she had been hospitalized), was it a wave of worms covering them? Was it slower, a few worms biting them, allowing them to still be conscious of the others coming, allowing them to cling on to the hope that they might manage to flee? Was it quick, was it excruciating minutes? Jon doesn’t want to share that story (at least for now?), and when that timeframe comes up in discussions, his breathing, pretty often… becomes Wrong:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I do apologise that it took me quite so long to figure out how to actually work the system. If I’d been quicker… ARCHIVIST: It’s fine. We’re alive. ELIAS: … Yes… Well. […]

(Grunts noises from Jon, towards the end, before he cuts Elias short.) (Also, Elias didn’t ask Jon to define that “We” and :[)

(MAG040) TIM: […] Could’ve been worse though, eh? Another couple of minutes and— ARCHIVIST: Yes. … Yes. It was… … Anyway. […]

That was Jon cutting him and stopping the words (didn’t want to hear how it could have been worse – to picture that it could have been worse. Jon’s distress tends to express in ragged breathing, while Tim’s is more in his expirations.

(MAG040) NOT!SASHA: I went over to check, and you were alive, so I pulled you back to where there was more air and began to remove the worms. Are you alright? ARCHIVIST: Sorry, just… difficult to hear, you know.

Heeeeeeeeeee was breathing very heavily. It’s hard, for him, to hear anything about when he came into contact with the worms. * I already know about Jon’s Compulsion power, I’ve been very attentive to when he was asking questions, to try to guess if it could be there or not, and there hadn’t been a “oh, that might be it?” moment… UNTIL MAG040.

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Martin. How did Gertrude Robinson die? MARTIN: I don’t know – not for sure. It was so dark, and I only saw the body for a few seconds. The police were quite clear that the cause of death could be absolutely any— ARCHIVIST: MARTIN, how did she die?! MARTIN: She was shot! Three times, that I could see. … Three shots to the chest. ARCHIVIST: Right. … Right… Thank you Martin. MARTIN: … Sure.

1°) I’m guessing that yes, the thing about the compulsion is that… it will go undetected for a while, because obviously, ordering an answer is close to demanding one, and by essence, people come to talk with Jon, so they’re less likely to refuse to give him answers. But here, I got a chill, because: was Martin trying to avoid to say that Gertrude had been shot (to not upset Jon further), or had he been unable to remember, before this exchange, that he had actually seen her with bullet wounds in her body? Could be both; either Martin was circling with weak excuses, either he was genuinely reminding Jon of the context to explain that he hadn’t seen the body in details… and then was suddenly able to tell. (As a result, it’s… not sure that the police knows about the bullet wounds. Martin’s sentence was actually going in the other direction; but he could have been trying to bullshit Jon then ;;) 2°) Their tones escalate, Jon’s voice is VERY firm when he pressures Martin, and then Martin also spoke in a louder voice… and right after, it passed. Their voices were super thin, almost whispers. 3°) … I’m crying that, yeah, if it was the compulsion-I-heard-about… it looks like the first time Jon used it was on Martin. On Martin. That’s… so horrible, why is it always Martin?! ;____; * I’m… very emotional over Jon’s enthusiasm when he explained how he actually works, what he truly thinks, what he finds interesting in the Institute, etc. He was so passionate! Sounded so alive when he explained his reasoning! There was adrenalin, there was fear and pain, there was urgency and danger, and he was… past that? There was some pure, genuine, untainted glee about how… things are currently a puzzle, and he wants to piece things together, he wants to keep working on these things, he want to tackle the work that still needs to be done, while being well aware of the bad aspects (he feels watched, he feels scared, but he knows that they've put their finger on something). With his own restrictions unbuckled, I don’t think I had ever heard Jon so genuine and simply… happy. (Happy to talk about what he is passionate about? Happy to drop the act? Happy to be able to be seen for what he is?)

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Look, even if you ignore the walking soil-sack out there, and the fact that we are probably minutes from death, there is still so much more happening here. MARTIN: I’m not sure we can really ignore the— ARCHIVIST: Every real statement just leads… deeper into something I don’t even know the shape of yet.

1°) mARTIN (I love/hate how Jon just. Ignores him sometimes x’D But Martin is right, it’s not like they could make abstraction of the current issues.) 2°) Jon sounding passionate and genuinely interested in what he does!! … On the other hand, I’m sobbing in advance: this is why he is ~good~ for the work, but it’s… not a good thing at the same time, is it. His personality fits, but fits so well that it’s also why he is doomed, isn’t he. The curiosity, the “need” (craving) to know at any cost… * … On that note, it’s horrifying to realize that… yes, Jon never questioned why Jane Prentiss targeted him personally. But also: that Jon himself didn’t do anything during the crisis except using the tape recorders, giving reports of what was happening, and asking others (Martin) to describe what they were seeing when he himself couldn’t get up. He didn’t kill worms (he shouted to Martin to get the fire extinguishers); he had trouble taking decisions (and Martin led them to the backroom); we didn’t even hear him removing worms from the others (but we got to hear Sasha crushing one that had previously been buried in him); he didn’t try to warn Tim (unlike Sasha and Martin) or to save him (like Sasha did); Tim was the one to destroy the wall and to lead them in the tunnels, to open the trapdoor… Jon did nothing but witness and record what others were doing. (And yet, he got the worst of it, along with Tim ;;) * Yay, Jon got terrible experiences! But he faced them with Tim! Yeah, okay, he sounded too adamant about getting proof of people’s official stances of things, and it sounded more like he was trying to see if there was any contradiction or if someone had lied by cross-checking testimonies–

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Fine! Fine. I’ll go home as soon as I have everyone’s statements.

–but maybe after this traumatic event, it will lead to more friendliness and camaraderie amongst the staff, they have bonded, and the power of friendship will–

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: […] but I cannot trust anyone. I’m going to figure this out, and I’m not going to stop. … They’ll have to kill me first. End recording.

noooOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! (And it comes from someone who is terrified of dying!!! Jon, what the fuck!! Don’t!!!)

I’m really fond of the fact that in the end… Jon is not exactly a “narrator” but still acts a bit like it for us listeners (he’s a mediation between us and the story, it’s through him and what he accepts to tell us that we’re able to discover this universe) and at the same time, hides. Hides information from us, hides himself from us; it makes me want to know more about him, despite the fact that he is the character we’re following? He makes concessions sometimes, lets some things slip, but it’s overall hard to know what he’s thinking, what he’s planning. At this point, I have this question nagging in my mind, I want to know (and maybe it is the core of the story): Who is Jon? Who is he as a person? What does he think and feel, under his facades? (… and the only way for me to know that is through the tapes, isn't it. And “discovering/learning who Jon is” is precisely what the Beholding is doing through the tapes, isn’t it. I would like to know more about him, but it’s also impossible to do that without him getting hurt, isn’t it…)

Martin Blackwood

^It was an headline from the French equivalent of The Onion from last month aND IT WAS FITTING. * Martin writes poetry!!! <333

(MAG039) TIM: Why do you have a second tape recorder, Martin? MARTIN: Oh, um… well, I’ve been using it to record myself. I write poetry and I think the tapes have a sort of… low-fi charm.

And heeeeeee’s now using a tape recorder, too. Great. (D:) He also temporarily acted as Jon’s eyes when they were hiding in the sealed room (MAG039)… so it sounds like he’s walking in Jon’s footsteps, uh. * Did he get a new phone, at the very least, since Jane Prentiss had kept it in MAG022 (and texted Jon). What did she do of the phone afterwards. Did the Institute pay for Martin's new phone, or not even. * He had been living in the Archives for four months when Jane Prentiss attacked ;; … And he has squirrel-like tendencies, apparently, hoarding fire extinguishers:

(MAG035) ARCHIVIST: […] Martin, where did you put the rest of the extinguishers? Martin!

(MAG039) MARTIN: … Maybe. Maybe, maybe he found the spare CO2. ARCHIVIST: Spare? What? Where? I never saw any. MARTIN: Oh, I, er… I, I hid them in old casefile boxes. ARCHIVIST: What, why? MARTIN: Well, so the worms didn’t know they were there! Look, I know it’s stupid.

(MAG039) TIM: Funny story really. I ran into the office, worms everywhere, horrible death and everything, tripped and fell in some boxes and there were like 20 cans of gas in there.

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] in fact I was getting ready to raise the issue of Martin’s continuing to live in the Institute’s basement, especially as I believe he’s been stealing fire extinguishers.

(Listen, I. I relistened to this last one many many times and it’s unrelated but I need to share this: jON CHUCKLED AT THIS!! At least, there was air coming out through his nose, and it definitely sounded like a chuckle. Martin did something that cracks Jon up. Martin!! Martin, you scored!!!) Anyway, he stashed these fire extinguishers in Jon’s office aND IT SAVED TIM, give this boy a raise!! Also, the heck Elias, there could surely be other reasons than “I’m suspecting him of stealing fire extinguishers” to reconsider having someone living in your workplace for four months. * … Martin and spiders continue to be a Thing, uh.

(MAG016) ARCHIVIST: […] But as I told Martin earlier, he was there for over a week, so there is very likely a perfectly natural explanation for the fact that his body was completely encased in web.

(MAG022) MARTIN: […] I like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, y’know the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they’re sort of cute—

(MAG022) MARTIN: […] And then I remembered that I’d seen quite a lot of spider webs in the brief time I was down there, and maybe I should check it out again. I mean, like I said, I’m not really afraid of spiders. So… I went back for another look.

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: Ah… Yeah, a… a spider. […] I tried to kill it… […] SASHA: Did you get it? ARCHIVIST: Ah… I hope so. Think so. Nasty, bulbous looking thing. SASHA: [Chuckles] Well, I won’t tell Martin. ARCHIVIST: Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem.

(MAG039) MARTIN: I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. […] No, no… it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too.

(More on that last one later.)

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] There was dust on everything. […] No worms. No cobwebs. Just… an old corpse. Gertrude Robinson.

(It’s… very strange of Martin to point out the absence of cobwebs. Mentioning absence of worms was logical, since they were the Main Threat, but why spontaneously notice that there were no trace of spiders…?) So!! Since Jon said that:

(MAG037) ARCHIVIST: […] We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge.

… Martin, you should really, really nickname all the spiders roaming around the archives variations of “Knowledge”. “Big Knowledge”, “Valuable Knowledge”, “Precious Knowledge”, “Important Knowledge (DO NOT KILL)”. Maybe, then, Jon would leave the creatures in peace. I do remember that Carlos Vittery had mentioned that there might be so many spiders around his flat because of the worms (MAG016: “Our building had acquired something of an infestation of some sort of insect I didn’t recognise – small, silvery worms, almost like maggots but slightly longer – and I assume that they provided a good meal for the eight-legged little monsters.”), and that Jane Prentiss herself had mentioned spiders in her attic when she discovered the nest (MAG032: “Was it the spiders? There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’ […] Webs have a song as well, of course, but it is not the song of the hive.”). It sounds like spiders and worms are tied to entities that do not… really get along – or that spiders have the upper hand over the worms, overall. So, given that Jon discovered the infestation because a spider went to the wall in MAG038… was the spider attracted by the food? Was it tied to the lighter with the “spider web design” that Jon received in MAG035 and discovered in MAG036? Was it trying to attract the staff’s attention to get them to discover the worms before they would be ready to strike? … was it trying to warn Martin specifically, because hey, hey, friend, look! you’re in danger! there are some things behind the wall, but I have your back bro? * With Jon admitting that he had felt… observed, and the fact that there is still no official reason for him to have dissed Martin so hard before MAG022, I wonder if the two mightn't actually be linked. Sasha had mentioned, too, that she was apparently perceiving Martin as the weakest of the bunch (MAG026: “Martin is a great researcher, but his self-preservation instincts are not the strongest, and to be frank I thought that if this Prentiss were a danger everyone seemed to think, then he’d almost certainly be dead.”), and it didn’t sound like Jon was disagreeing with her – quite the contrary, he trusts her overall. … could it be possible that Jon purposely makes a point of portraying Martin as this incompetent, useless assistant when recording, hoping that if “things” were going to go after the staff members, then Martin could probably be spared if deemed too insignificant and not worth it? It’s just a hypothesis, I’m not firmly believing it, but it would then portray some of Jon’s decisions in another light: Jon thought he would protect the weakest assistant (while Tim and Sasha sounded competent enough to deal with mysterious forces), but then Martin was targeted first, and Jon would have realized that he had in fact miscalculated and designated him as the easiest one to target, hence the offer for Martin to stay in the Archives, protected. (I’m more ready to believe that it was either something spider-related on their first few days as coworkers, or something supernatural in Martin himself that makes people look down on him… but I find interesting to consider the possibility, now that I know that yes, Jon can lie, and will lie if he feels that it’s making his world safer.) * I Have So Many Feelings Over Jon & Martin’s ~heart-to-heart thing~ (AND IT’S JON WHO CALLED IT THAT…):

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] Why are you here Martin? MARTIN: Well, well, Prentiss is out there and you can’t run so— ARCHIVIST: I mean at the Archive in general. Why haven’t you quit? MARTIN: Are you giving me my review now? ARCHIVIST: No… We’re clearly doing a whole heart-to-heart thing and, truth be told, the question’s been bothering me. You’ve been living in the Archives for four months, constant threat of… this. Sleeping with a fire extinguisher and a corkscrew. Even you must be aware that that’s not normal for an archiving job? Why are you still here? MARTIN: [Considering] Don’t really know. I just am. It didn’t feel right to just leave. I’ve typed up a few resignation letters, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand them in. I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck. ARCHIVIST: Martin…You’re not, uh… You didn’t die here, did you? MARTIN: What? What? N-No… what?! ARCHIVIST: No, I just… No, just the way you phrased that... MARTIN: Made you think I was a ghost? ARCHIVIST: No… it’s— MARTIN: No, no… it’s just that whatever web these statements have caught you in, well, I’m there too. We all are, I think. [Sigh] … … A ghost? Really? ARCHIVIST: [Tiredly] Shut up Martin.

1°) Martin’s spontaneous answer is to mention the fact that he doesn’t want to abandon Jon in this precise situation!! Even when he hadn’t understood what Jon was really talking about!! (And he… kind of went back to the same kind of thing at the end, overall: that Jon is there, and that he’s staying there.) 2°) Jon never gave them their individual review before, did he. 3°) “WE’RE CLEARLY DOING A WHOLE HEART-TO-HEART THING” J O N… ;w; (I love how he still manages to be a bit dismissive of the concept, with that “thing”.) 4°) Jon, even before all the worms: is it normal for an archiving job to deal with all the stuff you’re dealing with in the statements. 5°) … JON THOUGHT THAT MARTIN MIGHT HAVE BEEN DEAD ALL ALONG… Martin getting so offended and not letting it go… (Was Jon ashamed of that one, since he went back to Dick Mode and told him to shut up at the end. Accusing someone of being a ghost sounded pretty stupid, granted <3) * My heart feels warm and fuzzy at the evolution from Jon dissing Martin when he wasn’t able to bring back some information (MAG014: “[Martin] could not find anyone that matches the admittedly vague description given here, though he informs me that he had some very pleasant chats about jigsaws. Useless ass.”), to… accepting that if Martin wasn’t able to, then it’s not his fault but exterior circumstances (MAG036: “[…] Martin’s research would seem to indicate the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books, but it doesn’t explain why none of the officially-listed staff can be located for follow-up […].”) ;w; Martin is not deemed as incompetent anymore, he’s a researcher on the same level as the others now. * Even when he tries his best, though, he still had trouble getting his points across:

(MAG035) MARTIN: I’m sorry, are you two meant— […] Look, you really can’t actually— BREEKON: Package for Jonathan Sims. HOPE: Says right here. MARTIN: Well, I don’t really know where he— HOPE: We’ll just leave it with you. BREEKON: Be sure he gets it. MARTIN: Okay, I– I will, but you really do have to actually— BREEKON: ‘course. Much obliged. HOPE: Stay safe. MARTIN: … … I’ll… try? BREEKON: Your recorder’s on, by the way. HOPE: Might want to change that. MARTIN: Oh… hum… so it is. Thanks. BREEKON: No problem. HOPE: At all.

He was utterly dominated (verbally) by Breekon&Hope all through the exchange (they cut his sentences, led the conversation; probably were on each side of him, physically, a bit threatening, cornering him?), and it does sound like he got the ominous vibe from that “Stay safe” (his “I’ll… try?” was sooo cute). Despite it all, he keeps trying ><! He can also be pretty pessimistic and picturing the worst easily:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Stay with it, Martin. Tim. What happened to Tim? MARTIN: They got split up and he ran into the office. You said that’s where you made the hole. When you were recording. And they all came through, so… he’s dead. He’s dead in there and he’s covered in worms and that’s it. ARCHIVIST: We don’t know that. MARTIN: … Maybe […].

* AOUCH AOUCH AOUCH… So Martin did mention the feeling of being trapped, with a sort of resignation? when it came to working in the Institute,

(MAG039) MARTIN: I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck.

… but that feeling was more raw when he lost himself in the tunnels:

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] I was trying to go back – not that I knew what back even meant down there – when I heard the scream. I don’t even know how to go about describing it, but I thought… well I hoped… Well, when I started to find the shrivelled bodies of worms all over the place, I knew she was dead. […] So I wanted to get out of there. I was looking for a way up, but it felt more and more like I was trapped. […] When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead…

And he did mention that he had a torch on him when he was down there (MAG040: “I, I always keep my torch on me, ever since I moved into the Archives so, I had that, at least.”), and…….. shit. It’s because he’s claustrophobic, isn’t it. (MAG015, Jon: “Martin declined to help with this investigation as he’s ‘a bit claustrophobic’”) He truly had prepared himself for the worst; ending in a dark, closed place, and the staff getting attacked by worms (he had the corkscrew ready to remove them…). * I’m all the more sad, as a result, that spontaneously (when frustrated or stressed), Jon goes back to… being dismissive of him, very casually.

(MAG037) ARCHIVIST: [Rosie] says the same as you. Two men, doesn’t know how they got in, too intimidated to ask, looked “exactly like you’d expect”. Useless… MARTIN: S-sorry… Look, John, I do think we should destroy the table, though. I mean, if it’s the one from Amy Patel’s statement. Just in case. ARCHIVIST: Elias told me the same thing. Luckily he phrased it as advice rather than an instruction, so for now I’m more inclined to keep studying it. We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge. MARTIN: I suppose. Can I go now? ARCHIVIST: Yes, go on. MARTIN: Thank you.

1°) I’m inclined to go “inb4 Martin was right” but at the same time, Elias was going in the same direction so mayyyybe not. (Or is it a matter of Elias allowing himself to be able to say “I told you so!” later on.) 2°) mY HEART BLED AT THIS “Useless…”??? JON, HOW FUCKING DARE U. And Martin answering with a stammering “S-sorry” ;___; And Martin asking permission to leave, and Jon… granting it?? Like Martin was a scolded child??? Fuck you, Jon!! All the bad things that will happen to you might be proportional to the ways you treated Martin, you can’t blame karma for biting you back in the butt!!!

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] Martin has disappeared. […] during one of the more alarming encounters, Martin ran off. TIM: He thought we were behind him, I think. ARCHIVIST: He didn’t think at all. Tim was with me, and my leg slowed me down. He must have taken a turn we didn’t see or something. We lost him. […]

Jon… still expected the worse from him? That Martin forgot about them? Which yes, could have been the case, but it’s still… going for the most individualistic (although understandable if you’re not Jon) option. Even Tim took Martin’s defence here? And according to Martin, it’s what happened!! Martin didn’t leave them on purpose!! ;_;

(MAG040) MARTIN: No, I mean… I’m sorry I left you. ARCHIVIST: … Oh Martin. MARTIN: [Tearful] It was an accident. I thought you two were with me! I mean, the worms came at us, and they were so much faster, and then there was the gas, and the running, and I just… I, I thought you were right behind me. But when I turned round you were gone. You were both gone. It was an accident. ARCHIVIST: I know. It’s fine, Martin.

Jonathan “I know” Sims, you trashtalked him behind his back in the previous episode!! :| (And Martin feels guilty about it, and I’m heartbroken, his VOICE when he apologizes and explains again and again that… he hadn’t wanted to leave them behind…) * WHY DOES MARTIN APOLOGIZE SO MUCH… You do nothing wrong, sweetie!!! ;___; Even when fucking effing JON praised him, even when Martin had saved their lives, it still ended up with Martin apologizing, somehow???

(MAG039) MARTIN: […] Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens. ARCHIVIST: [Softly] Well… thank you. SASHA: That’s why we’re here? MARTIN: Yeah. The room’s sealed, I checked it myself when I moved in. ARCHIVIST: Climate controlled, as well. Strong door. Soundproof. [Sigh] These old files are far better protected than we ever were. Alright, I’ll grant you it’s a good place to lay low, but— SASHA: They could still come in through the air con. ARCHIVIST: Not easily. And… not en masse. It is actually safe. MARTIN: Ha! ARCHIVIST: Except, of course, that we’re trapped. MARTIN: Ah… yeah. … sorry.

(It was super pessimistic of Jon to present it as them being “trapped”, though? Sure, they would feel trapped twenty-four hours later, but right now: they’re safe, they’re protected, they can’t be harmed, and someone would have likely noticed their absences before the end of the day and/or the worms would have been noticed first, prompting some reactions from the Institute, since the ECDC apparently Knows How To Deal with these worms. Why present them as being “trapped” when they’re basically in a bunker during an attack? … Jon had complained about the fact that Martin had confessed about being a bit claustrophobic back in MAG015, but maybe Jon himself is and doesn’t want to admit it?) And, of course, Martin breaking down in MAG040…

(MAG040) MARTIN: Right. Well, I was doing some background checks for case 0081709, when you and Sasha started screaming, so I went to ch— ARCHIVIST: Yes, yes, yes, I was there! I was with you for almost the whole time, and that tape. survived. just fine. MARTIN: … sorry. ARCHIVIST: Ah, it’s fine, I just… I only need from when you got separated – from when you got lost in the tunnels. MARTIN: No, I mean… I’m sorry I left you. ARCHIVIST: … oh, Martin. MARTIN: [Tearful] It was an accident. I thought you two were with me, I mean, the worms came at us, and they were so much faster, and then there was the gas, and the running, and I just… I, I thought you were right behind me. But when I turned round you were gone, you were both gone. It was an accident. ARCHIVIST: I know. It’s fine, Martin. Everybody’s… [sigh] Everyone’s fine. I just need you to tell me what happened next, and then, it’s finished.

… Martin’s slow voice, getting harshly cut by Jon; Martin’s weak voice and little countenance…….. His “I’m sorry I left you” which is just… Martin isn’t on the verge of crying, but his words are moist, trying not to crumble, small voice and probably small lip movements?? And then his voice shivers and shakes and my HEART SHATTERS JON, YOU HAVE DONE NOTHING TO DESERVE MARTIN……. T______T (But Martin is so upset that even Jon relents and tries to calm him down!! Jon doesn’t get angry at him, he… feels that it wouldn’t work with Martin and/or feels bad about putting him in this state ;_;) The fact that Martin feels GUILTY over getting lost… feels like he abandoned Tim and Jon….. MARTIN T_______T * But at the same time, Martin keeps surprising me!! I somehow always end up expecting him to be meek and shy, and there are hesitations, there is uneasiness, there are apologies, he has trouble getting heard by the others, pretty often… but he’s also so much more, every time. He had planned ahead for the case the worms would invade the Archives – while Jon was just unable to give any direction about what they should do when it happened. He’s able to come back and to say things that need to be said, like when he questioned Jon’s decision (/ adamant requests/orders) to get Martin’s declaration on tape at the beginning of MAG037; even if he complied (begrudgingly), even if he stammered a “S-sorry”, even if he took Jon’s remarks in stride, he also…

(MAG037) MARTIN: […] Look, you need to get some sleep. [SILENCE] … I’ll see you later.

… pointed out A Deeper Problem regarding Jon. As advice? As a defence? Both? In any case, I would have expected Tim to point it out to Jon, so good surprise to hear Martin doing it. (I pictured Martin as… watching Jon intensely from the doorway, eyebrows slowly twisting in worry? And Jon not crossing his eyes, staring a wall, like a bored/sulky child, just waiting for him to piss off. And AOUCH. Martin ;; I’m just… Martin just got pushed and pressured, Jon was downright insulting here and there (mostly with second-degree remarks), and Martin… still left a ~door open~ with his “I’ll see you later”………… ;; Not wanting to give up on Jon, uh… Martin Cares…) And, of course, he called Jon out for the scepticism!! He had noticed!! He… wasn’t even feeling betrayed by Jon’s behaviour, he had seen through it – he was annoyed that Jon would lie like this!!

(MAG039) MARTIN: Seriously?! ARCHIVIST: What? MARTIN: Why do you do that? ARCHIVIST: Do what? MARTIN: Push the sceptic thing so hard!? I mean, it made sense at first, but now? After everything we’ve seen, after everything you’ve read! I hear you recording statements and y-you just dismiss them. Your tear them to pieces like they’re wasting your time, but half of the “rational” explanations you give are actually more far-fetched than just accepting it was a, a ghost or something. I mean for god’s sake John, we’re literally hiding from some kind of worm… queen… thing, how, how could you possibly still not believe!?

He’s not a weak thing, he is aware of what is happening around him and he cares, very deeply ;_; * MmMMMMmmm I wonder if Martin might have ADHD or something of the kind.

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] And there was more dust in those corridors too, and dead rats, even some discarded wine bottles. At one point there was an empty packet of mint imperials— ARCHIVIST: Martin… MARTIN: Sorry. Yeah. Um. […]

His thought seem to be drifting a lot, prone to digressions, and he has trouble keeping on one track; in this case, he was even recounting a Very Bad Experience but still chuckled when describing the food he had found in the corridors (getting into a totally different mood). I don’t know if we notice it more with him because he’s Martin, or if Jon gets more easily impatient with him than with the others (since He’s Martin; Tim could probably have gotten away with the same description), but… * It’s impressive but so far, he’s the only one of the Archive team to… be physically alright. Sasha got the cut from the worms+Michael (MAG026), and ultimately got killed (MAG039) though the others haven’t realized it yet; Tim and Jon got… many bloody holes in their bodies. Martin? Nothing. (Nothing so far?) T___T I love him so much??? He deserves to be fine and okay and valued and comforted??? Give him a raise and a blanket??? T___T

Sasha “Well, I won’t tell Martin.” James

* Definitely sounds like she was good with reports – and that Jon trusts her judgement about her discoveries.

(MAG036) ARCHIVIST: […] it seems the records from the closure of Ivy Meadows are… well, according to Sasha, calling them ‘patchy’ would be very generous. […]

* Happy/non-upsetting things first:

(MAG039) [SOUND CUTS IN MIDWAY THROUGH THE ARCHIVIST SCREAMING] MARTIN: And… there we go. Recording again. Did you get it? [PAINED CRY FROM ARCHIVIST AS SASHA EXTRACTS WORM WITH A SQUELCH] SASHA: There. And I just want to point out that I didn’t make this much of a fuss. ARCHIVIST: [Breathing heavily, aggrieved tone] I think your removal was substantially cleaner.

… it wasn’t explicit, so I do wonder if Jon was referencing Michael’s extraction from MAG026, or if Sasha had just got bitten again and they did a ~I take care of yours/you take care of mine~ exchange? (Because if Sasha has been bitten again, then yes, Jon would absolutely mention that he was cleaner at removing worms than others doing the same to him, ahaha.) Also, it was Martin’s corkscrew and yet Sasha was apparently the one to use it on Jon, so what happened. Did Martin just reveal the item and announce they could use it to remove Jon’s worm(s), and Jon went into a frenzy because the sight of Martin with almost-a-weapon was too much so Sasha had to step in to offer her help… (“Jon, you’ll die if I don’t–” “NO!! Don’t come any closer!!” “*sighs* Move aside Martin, I’ll take care of the big baby :/”) (If so, that biaaaaaaas, Jon!!! And he screamed anyway, Martin doing it or not.) * Jon was definitely… more at ease around her than with the others.

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: […] Urgh. Urgh. [SOUND OF CHAIR SCRAPING] I see you… [THUMP... THEN SOUND OF COLLAPSING SHELVES] [NOISES OF EXCLAMATION] [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: Alright? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Yeah, a… a spider. SASHA: A spider? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I tried to kill it… the shelf collapsed. SASHA: I swear, cheap shelves– ARCHIVIST: Yeah, I… SASHA: –are… Did you get it? ARCHIVIST: Ah… I hope so. Think so. Nasty, bulbous looking thing. SASHA: [Chuckles] Well, I won’t tell Martin. ARCHIVIST: Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem.

I LOVE SASHA’S PRIORITIES… She went to check on him, complained about the shelves being cheap and then right away remembered to ask if Jon had reached his target <3 Sasha was quite clearly cracking up and!! I like that Jon doesn’t take offense when she does!! He was a mess words-wise and it was kinda cute?! He had some awkward laughter, some breathlessness, the scene was utterly ridiculous (he was being ridiculous) and he knew it <3 … and also, I guess it avoided for him to get mad at himself for destroying furniture. (Describing a spider as “Nasty, bulbous looking thing” is… not wrong per se, but also not very helpful, though.) The comparison between how he’s relaxed around Sasha and quick to complain about Martin huuuuuurts, though. But I like that it’s saying that yes, Martin has already lectured Jon about the importance of spiders in the ecosystem. (Or at least once. I have no doubt that Jon would complain about Martin harassing him about it if Martin had only mentioned it once.) * She was A Big Damn Hero, who had already put herself into danger when she had followed Michael, and who again took big risks to save Tim’s life (something neither Jon nor Martin try to do, while Sasha… just rushed out to tackle him to save him).

(MAG026) SASHA: […] As I was about to exit, though, it called after me, and said if I was interested in saving your life it would be waiting at Hanwell Cemetery. […] It called you by name. You. And Martin. And Tim. […] Part of me wanted to tell you about it  immediately, to make a statement, but even if you believed me I knew you’d try and talk me out of going to Hanwell Cemetery, and I had just about made my mind up to go. I didn’t know if what Michael had said was a threat or a warning or just a lie, but I decided I couldn’t take the chance. So I went to the cemetery.

(MAG039) MARTIN: No. No, it looks like they’re… waiting, I think. ARCHIVIST: For what? MARTIN: I don’t know. Tim, maybe? SASHA: Oh god! MARTIN: I think he was out at lunch. SASHA: Quick, someone call him. Tell him not to come back inside. […] Oh god, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t see them. [SASHA AND MARTIN BOTH START CALLING OUT TO TIM] TIM, LOOK OUT! […] SASHA: What is he doing? No, Tim, just run! Leave it alone! […] Ah, screw this.

(MAG040) TIM: […] I think I was going to try and hit her, but that’s when Sasha knocked me to the floor. It, it was a good move, actually. Prentiss didn’t seem to expect it, and we crushed a lot of worms when we fell. They were slow to react, and we were running before they really went for us. I mean, all this happened in the space of a few seconds, so I’m not exactly certain. Sasha had to basically drag me behind her.

(MAG040) ELIAS: [Sasha] told me she had set off the fire alarm to get everyone out, and that you and Martin and Tim were currently trapped by Jane Prentiss.

Jon was already pessimistic about Tim’s fate (and couldn’t use one of his legs), Martin didn’t try to rush towards Tim to help him, but Sasha did. Martin, Tim and Jon were her three idiots, uh? She was always about protecting people… even when she left the archives, she activated the fire alarm (prompting everyone to leave the building) and went straight to Elias, to explain to him what was truly happening and to find out what they could do to neutralize the worms in the hope of saving the others… * … the last contact she had with any member of the team was… Tim letting go of her hand…

(MAG040) TIM: […] Sasha had to basically drag me behind her. I saw the shelf in front of us was about to topple. There were so many worms on it so, being the hero I am, I let go of her hand and told her to get help. She made it out the main door.

Tim joking about “being the hero I am” while… the irony… of what happened… is that it contributed to the chain of event that led to her death damniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit ;; (I’m wishing a bit that Tim will never realize it but AOUCH AOUCH AOUCH???) * … and she died alone, thinking about what Jon would want her to do and concerned and worried for the others (MAG039: “Okay, Jon. I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening. If you’re still alive after this. […] I got cut off from Elias. I hope he made it to the fire system, but who knows. Maybe everyone’s dead already.”), in a… place… that she… hated… (“I’ve had to retreat into Artefact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there. God, I hate this place.”) It’s even sadder given that… I’m not even sure she was still working at the Institute by choice, since she apparently had money-related issues:

(MAG026) SASHA: […] I love the Institute’s building, of course, it’s beautiful, but from a money point of view, I really wish it wasn’t in Chelsea. Everything around here is so expensive.

(MAG039) SASHA: […] Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.

I’m just. Heartbroken over her. The others haven’t even realized she’s dead, she just… disappeared in all possible ways, and that chain of events wouldn’t have happened if she hadn’t saved one of her coworkers’ life… I’m sad?? I’m so sad and inconsolable??? * Specifically with the table: Sasha knew what was written in Graham Folger’s journals:

(MAG003) ARCHIVIST: […] Sasha told her we’d managed to locate what we believed to be one of Graham Folger’s journals. Doubt it would have done much good. It just says the same thing on every page: the words “Keep Watching” over and over again.

… so I’m guessing that she didn’t “watch” (the table?) enough. It reminds me a bit of Will’s mother in His Dark Materials, and the way Will hypothesises that she sometimes focused on counting things to try and escape the Spectres… * I can’t help but wonder how things would turn out, if she had stayed alive… She was already on to something re:Elias avoiding some discussions:

(MAG039) SASHA: […] I… I asked Elias about it once, but he just muttered something about funding and mission statements. He’s good at changing the subject, isn’t he?

… so I wonder whether she would have been able to actually get suspicious of him… I know that Tense/Paranoid Times are coming from Jon, and maybe Sasha would have been able to defuse the situation, or to redirect it towards the right person, uh…? * I’m heartbroken that we’ve lost one member of the team ;; And it hurts-but-doesn’t at the same time, that… technically, we never hear the four of them together? Sasha and Tim never interacted on tape except for when Sasha tackled him!! And yet!! I have feelings for these 4 idiots!! I have no problem picturing their daily life!! * … And Not!Sasha creeped me out so much, efudsjnfr. First thing: static as soon as her statement began (while the others were fine), even before she began to speak, and… her (its?) way to describe ~what she did~…

(MAG040) NOT!SASHA: I pulled a fire alarm, because the worms were following me, and I didn’t want anyone else to get hurt. I went to Elias. We talked. We were going to save you, but the worms came, and I fled into the Artefact Storage room. You know I hate the Artefact Storage room, so it must have been bad. ARCHIVIST: You used to work there, didn’t you? NOT!SASHA: Yes. For three months. It was dreadful. I used to think that it was the most dangerous place in the Institute. […] I saw the worms in the main Institute. They shrivelled and died. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that scream though. I could hear Prentiss screaming even from there. […] Yes. Michael… With the bones in his hands. We still don’t know much about him, do we?

Sasha had amusement and some slyness in her words (a bit cat-like). Not!Sasha’s voice is smooth, but distant and unconcerned; she’s saying sentences without giving life to them – she had no personal feelings about (the true) Sasha’s actions. … But she did some things, on her own, and:

(MAG040) NOT!SASHA: Yes, I returned to the Archives, and all the worms were dead. You and Tim were lying there, but you weren’t moving. You just lay there, the dead worms still half inside of you. The trapdoor was open next to you, and more were inside. I went over to check, and you were alive, so I pulled you back to where there was more air, and began to remove the worms. Are you alright? ARCHIVIST: Sorry, just… difficult to hear, you know.

… so yeah, she saved Tim and Jon. So why. What is the plan for them (/for Jon), and how much will they wish that they had died out there rather than suffering whatever she has in store for them… (It’s also hitting one of Jon’s fears/anguishes, technically, though he’s not conscious of it: (MAG026) “The idea that there are things out there like that that want to help us… For some reason, that makes me more uncomfortable than the worm-infested creature stalking the Institute”).

(MAG040) NOT!SASHA: They took you away, so I waited with Elias. He was looking at me strangely, but we were both quiet. It had been a very strange day.

:w I know that the season 3 finale dealt with ~The Stranger~ so. She dropped the word.

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: […] Are you feeling alright? You seem a bit… out of it. NOT!SASHA: Yes. I am very tired. It’s hard to keep track of things sometimes.

What a hard day. Killing off A True Hero and replacing her is soooo tiresome isn’t it. (Jon… did briefly feel that something was off, but is it because Not!Sasha’s spooky powers don’t hide her intonations when it’s wrong (and anyone would notice), or is it because Jon specifically could feel it…?) (She went meek and “I will uwu” with a small voice right after, pfffft.)

ANYWAY, I’M STILL GRIEVING FOR SASHA… you deserved the world, princess é_è And we get… that thing… instead………………………………

Tim “Joe Spooky” Stoker

(MAG039) TIM: … still working? Ah, okay. Test, test. What are you doing on the floor? Huh. [Imitates Archivist voice] Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding sinister happenings in the downtown old—

I’M LOVE HIM SO MUCH… no respect for Jon (overall tone + “Joe” + “SPOOKY”), it was amazingly beautiful. Tim. TIM. (+ we had the context, we knew he was In Danger, so switching to Tim’s point of view was just Magical. Sasha&Martin banging on the door while Tim is not hearing a thing and getting distracted by the shiny object and the occasion to poke fun at Jon behind Jon’s back, while the Queen Worm was right behind him.) (Let!! Joe!! Spooky!! Give his statement!!) … I also love Tim's official recounting of these events:

(MAG040) TIM: Well, I could tell something was wrong as soon as I got back. It was quiet. I mean, it’s normally quiet, but it was dead quiet. I spotted the tape recorder lying on the ground, and went over to… er… see if it was damaged, and… as I was checking it I heard Sasha shouting.

Yeah, not proper to mention the “Joe Spooky” thing given what had happened since then, but his hesitation gave away that he remembered and that he knew Jon wouldn’t have liked it. (Sad that “Sasha” lost the tape because Jon didn’t get to hear about it, though! :( It’s probably the only reason why Tim’s still alive at this point, uh.) * I learned thanks to MAG040 that his full name is Timothy Stoker and SHHHHHHH… given that he’s so outgoing, it must have been really, reaaaaaaaaally weird for him to hear about Timothy Hodge (MAG006) flirting in a bar and having a one-night stand with a woman infected by worms, and then getting infested himself and dying in the events recounted in MAG026. Awkward. * I like how (before MAG040) Tim’s sentences are always so jumpy and less… slick, compared to Jon. He makes a lot of pauses, small filler sounds, like he’s circling around Jon and trying to convey what he wants in the best way to get Jon to answer peacefully (without fearing him either). There is always a smile in his voice, and so much warmth! (AND I KNOW THAT IT WON’T LAST, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS TO mE!!!) * He was apparently… delighted? Hysterically happy? Super excited? when he learned about MAG035’s case having to do with Robert Smirke, according to Jon (“You should have seen Tim’s face when I told him. Architecture is one of his specialist areas, and he has always talked of Smirke as one that fascinates him. How did he phrase it? ‘A master of subtle stability’.”) I wonder if that case was related to their banter reported by Sasha in MAG026, since we know from MAG024 that they were already working on the Harold Silvana case at that point? Jon sounds more like he's gushing about Tim’s enthusiasm here, rather than that they really fought about the subject, so I’m guessing that I was right, and that Jon just teased him a bit about Robert Smirke for the sake of it. Idiot dorks <3 * Twice now he’s been a middleman/messenger between Elias and the archives/Jon:

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: […] Which reminds me, if you do see Elias, tell him thanks for the extra extinguishers. TIM: Oh, yeah. Yeah, sure.

(MAG036) TIM: Oh, ah, nothing urgent, um, it’s just Elias was asking a couple questions about the delivery.

So is there a cold between Jon&Elias at this point, is Tim the Mandatory Delivery Man for messages. When I mentioned this to Aza, I was answered with: And I’m keeping this screencap here for Posterity (and for going back to sob about it later).

(Alternatively: Elias was asking Tim to ask Jon about why the eff he’s getting his furniture delivered at work.) (At least, everybody probably guessed that it wasn’t coming from Ikea, since Jon apparently has a personal vendetta against it according to the trailer (“… piled so many files on a shelf. Don’t buy them from IKEA.”), which is? uncalled for??? Ikea shelves are powered with the strength of Norsemen as long as you don’t move them around once settled, if Jonathan (Coulton.) taught me anything.) * I forgot to mention it explicitly, I think?, but I know that He Bi (which is why I can bask in the queer mentions with him already), so:

(MAG038) ARCHIVIST: […] Tim actually managed to find a copy of Mr. Ramao’s marriage licence. It exists, is signed, dated and official… and half of it is blank. Only Mr. Ramao’s details are on the document, and if it wasn’t for the context of this statement, it would appear he was married to nobody. But he was married.

There were many sad things about it: the events of the statement and the statement itself took place in 2012, two years before same-sex marriage was legalized in the UK. Which means… that Andre&David probably got married in another country. And it’s Tim who “managed to find a copy” of that marriage licence: so I’m guessing that he fought to find it, that he really wanted to find it, that he really wanted to believe that yes, this man had not… invented his married life? T_T (Queer people solidarity T_T) More happily, though:

(MAG034) ARCHIVIST: […] Still, Tim made contact with Elena Bower in the King’s administration office, and while she couldn’t find any actual records of them in the system, she does remember them being there, and confirms that she assigned them to Dr. Elliott last year. She could be in on it, of course, but Tim seems to believe her.

1°) Did Tim sleep with her. 2°) Jon trusts Tim’s judgement!!! Same as with the Dreamer’s statement (MAG011: “I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives.”), it sounds like he trust Tim a great deal? * I do wonder:

(MAG039) TIM: Oh… PRENTISS: [Slowly intoning over worm sound] Do you hear their song?

Was there a special reason for Tim to be targeted like this? She hadn’t spoken to Martin, it didn’t sound like she had spoken to Harriet Lee (according to Timothy Hodge); does Tim have a… connection with That Thing? He said that he wasn’t able to understand what she was saying, though:

(MAG040) TIM: […] [Prentiss] tried to say something, but I don’t know, I couldn’t really understand her through all the…

(So we could hear her through the tape, but not Tim, who was even closer to her? Is it because… it wasn’t a regular voice but something that was distorted for human ears?) And in the same way, I feel like he dodged a bullet, re: the table ;;

(MAG036) TIM: Oh, ah yes, yeah, it was sent straight to the Artefact Storage, a table of some sort. Ah, looks old. Quite pretty, though. Fascinating design on it. […] Um, I’ll be honest I didn’t really notice. It was quite— ARCHIVIST: Hypnotic, yes. […]

(BUT IT GOT SASHA INSTEAD SO I’M STILL SAD…) * I loved Tim already, I’m even more in love with… high-on-CO2!Tim.

(MAG039) [SOUND OF PLASTERBOARD AND TILE BREAKING] TIM: Hi guys! […] Funny story really. I ran into the office, worms everywhere, horrible death and everything, tripped and fell in some boxes and there were like 20 cans of gas in there. MARTIN: Are, are you alright? You seem a bit… TIM: Fine! Fine! Gas… bit light-headed. Not a lot of ventilation in the tunnels. Come on!

tIM……… He has the Best Entrances, okay.

(MAG040) TIM: […] I found myself lying on top of a whole bunch of CO2 canisters, which are damn hard by the way. The worms were still coming, so I used them. I mean, I went full Gas-Rambo. After that… my memory gets a bit fuzzy. I think the paramedic called it ‘respiratory acidosis’… from breathing in all the carbon dioxide, rather than your more traditional oxygen.

He was such a treat; there was this tense, anxious atmosphere, heart-to-heart talk between Jon&Martin, who thought that it was unlikely that Tim had managed to make it out alive, death lurking around… and then bam. Tim rips apart a fake wall and barges in, totally out of his mind but still aware of the situation.

(MAG040) TIM: […] [I] ended up sprawling into this pile of boxes that I thought were case files. Instead, I found myself lying on top of a whole bunch of CO2 canisters – which are damn hard by the way. The worms were still coming, so I used them. Er, I mean, I went full Gas-Rambo.

“Full Gas-Rambo”… tIM…………. (and the stupid little detail of the fact that the canisters are hard. Tim… trying to get back to normal dandy life, in which he can complain or note random things…) * … the CO2 made him lose some inhibitions too… tIM…

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: You’re not bitten, are you? TIM: No, I don’t think so! Have a look! ARCHIVIST: Yes, alright Tim, you look fine. Put them back on, please.

I’m guessing the “them” is trousers again, so Jon is apparently Fated to see his male assistants without trousers (or even less) at some point. Whether Tim showed his arse or genitalia, Jon said he looks “fine”, though. Jon please <33 * … It’s incredible how even in the worst situations, or to recall traumatic events about himself, he still manages to crack jokes here and there. In a hollow and “I’m fucked up and everything is fucked up ahaha” tone but. Still. Jokes.

(MAG040) TIM: Sure. Just… quarantine, y’know? … Not as much fun as it sounds. ARCHIVIST: You were certainly in there longer than I was. Everything alright? TIM: Yeah. I just made some joke about itching and… suddenly they were doing a whole bunch more tests. ARCHIVIST: Well, itching is one of— TIM: I know… I know. I was trying to lighten the mood. I’m fine, though. Except for the holes. … And the pain. … And the blood. … And the nightmares.

…………….. quarantine does NOT sound fun, Tim, holy Mew. And the joke. Oh gods. His voice was so tired, super slow, you could hear that he regretted that joke so, so, so much, that it meant more discomfort and added trauma. It’s either joking or crying, for him, at this point, isn’t it.

(MAG040) TIM: It’s a bit of blur, to be honest, ‘cause when I turned around, there she was. Prentiss. Her face so full of holes it’s like, “my eyes are up here~”, but they’re not, you know? They’re just… uh.

TIM. (And that. That sentence didn’t make any sense. It was just that he couldn’t make the joke with Jane Prentiss because no eyes anymore.) * And he’s not a complete idiot either!!! He’s actually pretty smart, notices things, connects dots and make hypotheses about what he observed!!

(MAG040) TIM: […] I have a theory, actually. I think [the worms] weren’t ready to attack when you found the tunnels. It’s like something in the Institute slows them down, and makes them… hum… heh, sluggish. And that noise they make, that squirming sound? They don’t make it when they’re in the tunnels. I don’t know why. It was only when they came into the Institute – maybe the light, or the aircon, or something? – I’m not sure, but I think it made them weaker, and they’ve been down there for months, breeding, building up their numbers until there were enough to properly bury us. Except you found that hidden passage, and they had to act.

(He was getting some life back in his voice, when explaining his ideas, too!) * ONCE AGAIN, I’m sad about his description of… what was his last moment with Sasha (and Sash's last moment with anyone from the team):

(MAG040) TIM: […] I don’t know what I was going to do, I think I was gonna try and hit her, but that’s when Sasha knocked me to the floor. It– it was a good move, actually. Prentiss didn’t seem to expect it and, we crushed a lot of worms when we fell. They were slow to react, and we were running before they really went for us. […] so, being the hero I am, I let go of her hand and told her to get help. She made it out the main door.

She saved him, and he knows it. He cracked a joke about what he did (because in his mind, she’s still alive, he can joke about that! she managed to flee and to get help, and got through the ordeal unscathed!) and it’s to say that HE “LET GO OF HER HAND” AND IT WAS THE LAST CONTACT SHE HAD WITH HIM… WITH SOMEONE FROM THE TEAM…………………………….. I hope that he will… never realize it, oh gods………………. * I’M IN PAIN because I know that Things Go To Shit In Season 2 and that it’s especially bad between Jon and Tim… but I wouldn’t have been able to predict that from MAG040. Because… Jon is a bit better with him than how he usually handles people? They were together, they faced Jane Prentiss together, they got the same kind of injuries, the same trauma, they can Relate when hearing each other’s comments, and… Jon sounds aware of that, that his experience and Tim’s are similar. He doesn’t need him to recall the events that horrified him, and he has a few kind words:

(MAG040) TIM: [Tired] Do you need much? I’d really like to go home. ARCHIVIST: I sympathise. It won’t take more than a few minutes.

(Tim’s voice was so small ;; The end of an era, there is a hollowness (ha. many hollownesses.) in his voice there…)

(MAG040) TIM: […] There didn’t seem much point staying, so, I went into the tunnels. They were cold. Dry. You know that worm smell, that earthy rotten smell? ARCHIVIST: Oooh yes. TIM: Well… yeah.

(Jon’s voice was very small there, too ;;)

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: […] Could you… describe the tunnels? TIM: You were there. ARCHIVIST: Humour me.

(Jon was almost whispering.)

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Good. Good. Go home, Tim. Get some sleep. TIM: Heh. Yeah. Sure.

(Aaand Jon went from weak voice to a bit firmer, but more like he was trying to get some composure back than being authoritative. And Tim was scoffing; he knew he… wouldn’t be able to sleep, uh…)

Anyway, I love him and he’s going to break my heart, isn’t he ;;

Elias Bouchard

* I’m laughing because:

(MAG017) ELIAS: […] By the way, have you seen Martin?

(MAG036) TIM: Oh, ah, nothing urgent, um, it’s just Elias was asking a couple questions about the delivery. ARCHIVIST: Delivery? What delivery? TIM: Ah well, that’s actually what he was asking, huh!

He sounds like that PNJ who subtly tries to get you back on the track to the Main Quest when you’re getting distracted (“Jon, Jon, Martin is not here, something happening with Martin, maybe you could focus on that Jon.” “Jonathan, THE TABLE and the zippo, Jonathan, pay attention to the items, JONATHAN.”) * Lalala:

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: [Weary] … Statement of, uuuuh… ELIAS: Jon… as your boss, I’m telling you to go home. ARCHIVIST: I’m fine. ELIAS: Look. You look like a mummy. You need rest. […] Jon! She’s gone. I went with the ECDC people when they took her away. I watched her body burn. Jane Prentiss is dead. You can relax. ARCHIVIST: You know why I can’t. When Martin found… ELIAS: That’s a matter for the police.

1°) With Jon temporarily out, someone had to watch/record this, uh. 2°) There have been a few rough exchanges between Martin and Jon, but Elias and Jon do argue for real and it’s a treat <3 It escalates quickly, Jon’s voice (raw, drifting, a bit low at first) gets tense and firmer in his tone, and Elias keeps having those frustrated and reprobating throat noises, and you get the feeling that both of them are indeed verbally fighting to take possession of the topic. Jon keeps starting to talk before Elias ended his own sentences! Even Jon can’t be dismissive of his own boss – but he’s still very very stubborn and… impertinent with Elias. Almost trying to boss him around.

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: … Tell me what happened to Gertrude Robinson. ELIAS: Jon, how many times do we need to go over this? ARCHIVIST: We’ve never got it on tape. ELIAS: You can barely stand. Just… why don’t we just do this tomorrow? … … Fine. On the 15th of March last year, […].

(Jon cutting the end of Elias’s sentences! And you could hear Jon staring hard and hard and hard as sole answer. Elias gave in and complied, but clearly annoyed, with a dry automatic diction <3) * I have Many Things To Scream About When It Comes To That One Sentence:

(MAG039) SASHA: […] I think John’s got a lighter somewhere. ELIAS: He’s not smoking again, is he?

1°) There is a fire alarm going off, Sasha just explained they're being invaded by worms and attacked by an Abomination: is the fact that Jon may or may not be smoking (again) really a priority, Elias. 2°) ……………. still even when pretending to not know that Elias is Elias……. it sounds so terribly paternalistic and not the kind of comment a boss should allow himself to say about a subordinate……… Whether Jon might be smoking or not is not your business…………… 3°) … does Jon even know that Elias knows that he used to smoke. (For how long has Elias set his eyes on Jon, exactly? Was it before Gertrude’s death?) * I… don’t know how he operates, what he can and cannot do, if he has Restrictions or is totally free to do whatever. Obviously, however, given that I know he’s not… exactly benevolent (let’s say.) and is hiding who/what he is, a big question I have regarding him is: is he bound (by supernatural restrictions or by personal ethics) to tell the truth, or can he lie? (As in: lying for real; not only omitting or changing the subject, which he seems to do quite a lot – as even Sasha had noticed.) Wondering this gives another dimension to some of his sentences, assuming that no, he can’t explicitly lie (but can bend the truth to say a non-lie while avoiding to reveal information):

(MAG039) ELIAS: To be honest I always thought they were just… overreacting. Other staff have seen them around, but no-one’s reported any aggressive behaviour or anything like that. You know how those two are… Jon puts on a good show, but sometimes I swear he’s worse than Martin.

(MAG040) ELIAS: I… know I have often seemed dismissive of your concerns before […]. But… honestly, I didn’t fully appreciate what you’d been talking about until I turned that corner and we saw what I can only describe as a… a tidal wave of filth rushing towards us.

=> Well, Jon will have worse anyway, so no need to take this one too seriously, right? It was ONLY Jane Prentiss. Come on. Not a big deal, right.

(MAG040) Martin finding her body in the tunnels is as much a mystery to me as it is to you.

=> Of all fucking people working at the Institute or investigating Gertrude’s suspicious disappearance, Elias wasn’t expecting that MARTIN would find her body. (THAT’S SO MEAN FOR MARTIN WHEN YOU HEAR IT THIS WAY…) His description of Gertrude’s disappearance is, all in all, pretty neutral and is readable as a not-lie, but there are two details that are noteworthy: 1°) “so I assumed she was dead and left the investigation to the police”: you can’t assume something you know, especially since there would have been ways to word it in a non-personal phrasing (~It was safe to assume~, ~Anybody could have assumed~ etc.)… but then, I don’t know if she was dead-dead when he left her/the body, nor if he was the one to drag the body somewhere else (since the crime scene and the place the body was discovered were different). 2°) … he said that Gertrude’s disappearance was discovered and reported “On the 15th of March last year”: however, according to MAG025, it was the 15th of May. March 15th was, however, the day following ~Antonio Blake~’s written statement about his dreams regarding Gertrude’s death (MAG011). So was it a mix-up from the writers, was it an inconsequential mix-up from Elias, or was that… a mistake made on purpose, because there had been blood on her desk around that time but it was related to another story, not her actual murder? * I’m really amused by the fact that… I know due to spoilers that I have to be careful of him, that’s he’s bad, baaaaad, bad news. But every time he speaks, I have this ringing of “oh, it’s just boring/neutral/a bit useless Elias” flaring in my mind =D (Also, as if his voice actor was just filling in, but not really used to acting. I already know it’s not the case, got some audible proof even… and yet. I still have the impulse of thinking “Oh, it’s just Elias” when hearing him in my current episodes, which baffles me every time. You sneaky falsely boring middle-aged man, you. (Kudos to his VA!)) (Though yeah, I got to actually hear him a bit more thanks to MAG040, and his voice was more noticeable then (unrelated to the fact that, by default, his scenes are funnier when he’s arguing with Jon). Very clean and… I think the word I would use to describe it is “neat”? His elocution is very clear, not exactly cutting, but there is something sharp there.) * But then, it sounds like other characters share the feeling and it’s… how Elias is identified (/gets identified) by others. Sasha wasn’t exactly too impressed with him (clearly feeling that she had to insist to make him do something actually useful to potentially help Jon, Tim and Martin), and Jon himself doesn’t seem to consider Elias useful either:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help […].

* Again, about what he said about Jon (and Martin) and the worms:

(MAG039) ELIAS: So… these are the worms he and Martin have been going on about? SASHA: The ones terrorising us for months? Yeah! ELIAS: To be honest I always thought they were just… overreacting. Other staff have seen them around, but no-one’s reported any aggressive behaviour or anything like that. You know how those two are… Jon puts on a good show, but sometimes I swear he’s worse than Martin.

I want to say that Elias is also so mean to Jon, but then, that would make me be mean to Martin. So, usually, in the group of four, Tim and Sasha are (perceived as) the ones less likely to ~overreact~? (That’s especially funny considering how, at that exact time, Tim is currently getting High On CO2 and a total mess. And how Martin, having been panicking for months over the concept of an incoming worms invasion, pre-emptively found a solution that would remove them and thought of a place to take shelter in. But Sasha has been Great overall, granted, and Jon… didn’t do a lot except for shouting at Martin and complaining about Sasha’s worm-removal.) * … Though, I’m terrified over how he casually got LIFE OR DEATH power over the people in the Archives:

(MAG039) ELIAS: Not quite what I meant. On Jon’s insistence I recently changed the Archive’s fire suppression system to use carbon dioxide. Should have done it years ago, really— […] SASHA: Wait. Wait. Will it hurt Martin or Jon? ELIAS: Almost certainly. Er, I’m not a doctor, but I know dumping a lot of CO2 on people isn’t generally considered a good idea.

(Jon, what have you done.) Even when ignoring spoilers (he killed Gertrude), THAT’S SO VERY REASSURING… Fitting with what Jon said about how “These old files are far better protected than we ever were.” (MAG039) but I’m also staring so hard about how… ahahaha… there would be… a convenient way… to kill off all the staff if they were a bit troublesome and too uncooperative or something………… that would be less bloody and “cleaner” than with Gertrude, wouldn’t it……….. (was it really “on Jon’s insistence”. Wouldn’t be out of character for Jon given that he had asked for more fire extinguishers, and carbon dioxide means less harm to the documents, but at the same time, those are not… ideal conditions if you want to work without fearing for your life.) * Maybe Not That Immune To Worms:

(MAG040) ELIAS: Luckily it seemed the things were mainly concentrated in that one mass, leaving the other corridors largely vacant. It took me ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but I made it with only one close call.

Oh no, Alexa, this could have been so sad, play “Despacito”. * I still don’t know why Jon was chosen specifically, and I do wonder if Elias was planning to keep him at all costs as the new head archivist, or if he… allowed himself to test the waters a bit, to check if Jon would be up to the task, keeping the possibility of discarding him if he wasn’t a good enough fit. I mean, I know that he killed Gertrude! And even with Jon, he obviously played with fire (ha.) by releasing the carbon dioxide at the last moment. His official stance to Sasha was that he hoped that Jon would survive given that:

(MAG039) Er, I’m not a doctor, but I know dumping a lot of CO2 on people isn’t generally considered a good idea. I really don’t want to have to find another Archivist so quickly after Gertrude, but from what you say… it might be a mercy.

1°) ……………… I do love how his public persona is just… casually so ruthless and un-empathetic. Whining about having to find another archivist when he’s mentioning that oops, Jon (and Tim and Martin) could die while the system is saving the Institute. Everyone in this institute has their priorities wrong. (And yes, it’s even more hysterical when knowing that he killed the previous one. Complaining about having to find another Archivist after you killed the last one? YOU DON’T SAY.) Same thing in the following episode when he recalls ~what happened about Gertrude’s bloody disappearance~, he summarizes his stance with:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] so I assumed she was dead and left the investigation to the police, for all the good it did me. And I appointed another archivist.

Laconic tone for the end of the story (but with a slightly higher pitch: it wasn’t “annoyed” like at the beginning), and Jon was… breathing hard throughout that last sentence. Aouch. Also could you please try to sound sad about one of your employees’ mysterious death, Elias. 2°) I know (thanks spoilers) that Elias has selective omniscience and can see what is happening (if he focuses on it). So he knew how much danger Jon and the others were in, he probably could see the moment Tim and Jon went face to… faces with Jane Prentiss, and he acted at the last minute. Was Elias planning to move a finger only if he had to and there was no other way for Jon to make it out alive? Or did he make the decision to help-if-necessary during the crisis, because Jon had… somehow lived up to his expectations and proved himself as the new Archivist? In the latter case… would it be related to the fact that Jon tried to record at all cost what was happening (endangering himself to retrieve his tape recorder (only to lose it again a few seconds later) and even getting bitten in the process, asking Martin to describe what he was seeing for the second tape recorder), thus ~validating~ Elias’s choice? (In all cases: thaaaaaaaaat’s absolutely creepy, I love it. Terrible.) * Look, yes, he probably timed his actually-doing-something-for-once thingy, but the way he described it:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I composed myself, and decided on a more roundabout route to the boiler room. Luckily it seemed the things were mainly concentrated in that one mass, leaving the other corridors largely vacant. It took me ten minutes, maybe fifteen, but I made it […].

……… I doubt that the building is big enough to require ten to fifteen minutes to reach a place, even when a taking a detour. That is, when you’re rushing. Did he have the time to have a cigarette, one or two coffees, and even to wait for the coffee to cool down to an acceptable temperature, before lifting a finger. * Re: Elias’s public persona being very casually ruthless: the difference between Jon living the horror and Elias ~describing the horror~:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I turned on the fire suppression system. And… that’s when I heard the scream. I… can’t really describe it but… well, I’m sure I don’t need to, you were a lot closer to it than I was. ARCHIVIST: It’s the last thing I remember before blacking out. Tens of thousands of… things without mouths screaming as one. ELIAS: … Yes. Horrible sound. Anyway, […].

(With Jon’s voice shivering and clearly Not Fine, while Elias is just deadpan and firm and that “Anyway,” kills me.)

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I headed down to the Archives to see what had happened. Sasha was already there, but you and Tim were in a bad shape. It looked like a few dozen worms had been going into each of you when the carbon dioxide killed them. Was like bloody Swiss che— ARCHIVIST: YES… thank you, I remember everything from when the ambulance arrived. Quarantine, bandaging, etcetera.

hE’S ALSO SO FUCKING SAVAGE??? ELIAS, OH MY GODS………… Jon is traumatized and Elias just casually describe Tim and him as looking like gruyère (“bloody Swiss cheese”), oh mY GODS… (And Jon was… breathing hard, and he stopped him sharply, so almost getting a panic attack over the recounting of the events, uh. Does Elias feed on Jon’s discomfort and suffering? Because if he wanted to very casually and ~innocently~ make someone ill at ease, yeah, it was a very efficient way.) * Anyway:

(MAG037) MARTIN: […] Look, Jon, I do think we should destroy the table, though. I mean, if it’s the one from Amy Patel’s statement. Just in case. ARCHIVIST: Elias told me the same thing. Luckily he phrased it as advice rather than an instruction, so for now I’m more inclined to keep studying it.

1°) Spoilers aside: I’m laughing that… it’s not like Elias is in charge of the Institute, isn’t it. It’s not like he’s supposed to have a say in how they should handle Suspicious Items that are received in the Institute and that will be kept inside of its Artefact Storage, instead of giving very vague “oh yeah, maybe we should destroy it… idk… do whatever…”, uh. Same thing when he reported what he was doing during the worms invasion, it was hilarious:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] This afternoon, just after lunch, I was going over some budgets in my office, as I normally do on a Tuesday […]. the fire alarm started going off. It was annoying, but not too worrying at first. I, I packed my work away, and began to calmly head towards the evacuation point, when… Sasha came barrelling through the door […].

If it had been a planned training for emergency, he would have known about if beforehand, so his public persona knew it was either someone accidentally setting the alarm or a genuine case, but his official stance about it is “Oh no, there was annoying noise disturbing my Tuesday Budget Ritual, and I even had to evacuate :(”. Same thing with his stance about Martin’s stay:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] in fact I was getting ready to raise the issue of Martin’s continuing to live in the Institute’s basement, especially as I believe he’s been stealing fire extinguishers.

“Yeah, sure, one of my employees has been living in my building for four months, that’s fair, but hoarding fire extinguishers? Too unprofessional.” And in both cases, Jon is not surprised by what Elias is saying, so it’s just… regular Elias comments. THIS IS YOUR FUCKING INSTITUTE, ELIAS…………………….. you could also get a bit more upset about the damages the worms caused – it’s going to cost a lot! (In case you haven’t noticed, I’m really cackling at the Boring Useless Bureaucrat persona =D) 2°) I have no doubt that this fucker knew what kind of Bad News the table meant, so comparatively, what he officially said about it is…  so… noncommittal, pfFFFTTTT. Keeping the table turns out to be a mistake? Elias had advised you to trash it!! Destroying the table turns out to be a mistake? Well, Elias hadn’t instructed you to trash it, he only gave you some advice that you were free to disregard!! Your fault in all cases, Elias Did Nothing Wrong because he did nothing at all, You Can’t Complain, Jon, No, Really, You Can’t. bUT FUCK HIM ANYWAY!!

(MAG040) NOT!SASHA: […] I waited with Elias. He was looking at me strangely, but we were both quiet. It had been a very strange day.

Fuck yooooooooou, you know!!! :| … I’m not sure, however, whether he knew what would happen to Sasha: if it was a pure coincidence (and he rolled with it), if he was aware that it was likely to happen to her, or if he did get ~accidentally separated~ from her at that moment in a deliberate and conscious effort to get her to hide in the Artefact Storage room (where the table was stored, where Sasha would be alone, and where it was very likely that she would get… murdered and replaced). So I can’t scream at him for being a tiny bit responsible (yet), but I’m eyeing him in the meantime. * But apparently, sometimes, when the stars are aligned, Elias can apparently behave like someone who is *gasps!!* helpful:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I called the fire department, ambulance and a contact at the ECDC who had previously been involved in the Prentiss investigation.

… Yeah, needed special staff to get rid of the (worm) corpses. (Aaaand he has a ~repertoire~ of people to contact, apparently?)

The Magnus Institute / The Archives

We got a bit more information about how things apparently work around here!

* According to season 1’s Q&A

(S1Q&A) Alex: “How large is the Magnus Institute, as an organization?” Jonny: There are between 80 and a 100 staff in total. Very few of them are focused on the Archives; I think probably the core staff is maybe 40.

Does it include the cryptids. (That’s not gigantic but leaves some space for not knowing everyone / mostly knowing people in your own services, indeed!) * … The Institute is not here to help you, even if you’re desperate. It wants your stories, but it won’t help you.

(MAG037, Jason North) I’ve asked and asked and your people only ever tell me to write my statement. Put it down on paper for investigation. Is that going to help? No. Of course it isn’t. Even if you had the power to do something, would you? Or would you rather watch my son burn so you can take notes. […] I won’t let my son burn, even if you cowards don’t have the guts to step up and do something. […] But yes, I know, you want the whole goddamn story, don’t you? So you can look over it in ten years and go “Hmm, interesting” long after Ethan and me are dead.

* So, yay! Characters had understood that the statements not recording on computer meant they were Spooky. I was wondering, since the tape recorders do have the advantage of singling them out of the bunch of others, if they were treated differently – apparently, it wasn’t the case at first but Jon is focusing more on them nowadays (MAG039: “At this stage, if it records to my laptop I almost don’t bother.”) Jon also basically said that, so far, we might have heard all the recordings on tape (“I mean. I still think most of the statements down here aren’t real. Of the hundreds I’ve recorded, we’ve had maybe… thirty, forty that are… that go on tape.”): 38 statements so far, minus Martin’s and Sasha’s, and three other live statements. So 33 that came from papers, already in the Archives. It also seems that Jon is also able to… feel that they’re different even before recording them, maybe? (“The ones that have weird wrinkles, or that just seem to have something solid to them.”) Or are those literal “weird wrinkles” in the paper, which would be an indication that some people (Gertrude?), before the current team, used to read those but disregard the others? * Working in the Archives is not a Safe Job:

(MAG026) SASHA: I should really quit, you know. We– we all should. I don’t think this a normal job. I– I don’t think this is a safe job. ARCHIVIST: You’re probably right. Do you want to quit? SASHA: No. I’m just– I’m just too damned curious, I suppose. You? ARCHIVIST: No. Whatever’s going on, I… need to know. Get some rest.

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: […] Why are you here Martin? […] Why haven’t you quit? […] Why are you still here? MARTIN: [Considering] Don’t really know. I just am. It didn’t feel right to just leave. I’ve typed up a few resignation letters, but I just couldn’t bring myself to hand them in. I’m trapped here. It’s like I can’t… move on and the more I struggle, the more I’m stuck.

(MAG039) SASHA: […] I’ve had to retreat into Artefact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there. God, I hate this place. … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? […] I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.

I would scream at all of you to quit but then Sasha is already dead and I knew that curiosity (/not ~keeping watching~ enough?) would kill the cat TT____TT (Also, Martin, sweetie, is your last sentence supposed to reassure us re: the reasons why you don’t feel like quitting? Because it… was a bit terrifying, that whole extended metaphor about an insect stuck in a web. Who/What/Where is the spider. If he had said that he wanted to stay because he had grown fond of the others and didn’t want to feel like he was leaving them behind, I would have dug that, considering how he’s been a sweetie pie so far, but here… it sounded more like a consequence of him staying. He never explained why he didn’t (want to?) quit.) * It sounds like the Institute itself had an effect on the worms? Tim said that the ones in the tunnels were “faster for some reason. And quieter.” (MAG039) than the ones in the Archives, and Jon confirmed it right after (“Tim was right about there being fewer worms down here, but they are much faster. More aggressive.”) When Tim went over the events in MAG040, it’s also something that had struck him (“[In the tunnels,] I did see some more worms, though. They were fast. I only saw a couple, but it was still proper jumpscare territory.”) Back when they had first encountered them in the wild, Martin and Sasha had described the worms as quite fast (MAG022: “the worms began to writhe out of every hole and cavity, falling to the floor in a cascading… wave and starting to crawl towards me with… with alarming speed. […] Just as I was bringing up the camera app, one of the worm-things reached at me and leapt at my face. That thing jumped literally 6 feet through the air at my face.”; MAG026: “The worms also seemed to have taken notice and began to move towards me at an alarming speed.”), so it seems that their behaviour inside of the Institute was the anomaly. Something (the building itself?) was able to slow them down? Tim himself was hypothesizing this in MAG040. Anyway, worms were trying to populate other levels, according to Sasha (MAG039: “The worms are on the upper floor. Not as many as down in the Archive, but enough.”) * I was wondering at which level are the Archives located? I had assumed ground floor or basement floor, and that sounds correct! Elias’s office is apparently on an upper level (not surprised) (MAG040, Elias: “We hurried down, and it was clear everyone else had already evacuated. We… had reached the ground floor when… well…”). Plus, the dent on the wall caused by the collapsing shelf caused by Jon thwacking it caused by an innocent spider visiting the Archives, revealed that this one was not an “exterior wall” (as Sasha had assumed until MAG038) but some sort of plasterboard panel separating the Archives from… hidden tunnels. So the Archives are on the lowest (official) level in the Institute. (Which sounds usual and all but is also pretty dangerous for papers in case of flooding.) And Elias did describe the place where the statements were recorded in MAG040 as “basement filled with a thousand rotting worm carcasses” (he had offered to take the statements in his office instead) and also commented about “the issue of Martin’s continuing to live in the Institute’s basement”. So yep. The Institute hides the nerds in the basement. * I’m guessing that the tunnels that the Archive Team discovered are… sadly related to the ones created by Robert Smirke mentioned in MAG035 (Old Passages, the Harold Silvana case)…? As summarized by Jon, “These tunnels are a maze, and we don’t know where we are.” (MAG039). Martin also said about them:

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] It’s a, it’s a maze down there, Jon. I don’t know how far the passages go, maybe miles. I think it must be the old Millbank Prison, like Tim was saying before. I even found some stairs at one point, but I really didn’t want to go down them.

So the Institute is the tree and… it has roots. Deep, deeeeep roots. * There are least two mysteries lying underneath the Institute (unless it was the same room and Tim didn’t notice Gertrude’s corpse): the room that Tim saw (where worms behaved strangely, trying to make a doorway?), and the room that Martin saw.

(MAG040) TIM: No. I did see… uh, I mean, maybe… ARCHIVIST: What? TIM: No, it’s just… I think I was still gassed, and it was dark, but… I found a room. ARCHIVIST: Go on. TIM: I didn’t stay long, ‘cause it had a lot of worms in, and they weren’t acting like the others. They were sort of… wrapping around each other, like they were trying to form a… thing, like a structure or something. A ring. I was probably still out of my skull, and half-hallucinated the whole thing, but it looked like they were trying to make a doorway. ARCHIVIST: A doorway? Is it still there? TIM: No. I pumped two full extinguishers into that room. Nothing was getting out.

(Tim was almost chuckling at the end. Proud of himself for this, at the very least, uh.)

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead… It was a small room. Square. There was dust on everything. Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes. […] She was sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. No worms. No cobwebs. Just… an old corpse. Gertrude Robinson. She was slumped forward, but I could see her mouth hanging open.

The Tape Recorder(s)

* Season 1’s Q&A had a question about which sounds were canonical in the tapes (and mostly the status of music):

(S1Q&A) Alex: From sort of a directorial standpoint, I’ve always had it that the music is not part of the actual recordings…? Jonny: Yes. Alex: However, the tapes detect the distortions, the sound effects of things actually happening, the voices of the people […]. Jonny: Everything that you hear is on the actual tape within the world of the Magnus Archives, except the music.

Niiiiice /o/ … As a result, as mentioned above, I wonder if the tapes have the power to somewhat “translate” some sounds/voices?

(MAG039) TIM: Oh… PRENTISS: [Slowly intoning over worm sound] Do you hear their song?

(MAG040) TIM: […] [Prentiss] tried to say something, but I don’t know, I couldn’t really understand her through all the…

We listeners could hear her perfectly, but apparently, Tim couldn’t (while he was positioned close to the tape recorder, probably between it and Jane Prentiss). Is that it, do they have the power to translate/fix/catch the distortions? I’m also wondering what is the relation between the statements and the tape recorders: are there parts of the statements that described inhuman sounds, and that Jon read as they were written (and the tape recorders made them audible)?

* Jon used to dislike that tape recorder – but that’s not the case anymore.

(MAG033) ARCHIVIST: No. I don’t have time. I still have a mountain of haphazard statements to get through, not to mention that I need to keep this wretched tape recorder on hand – just in case I encounter one of the files too stubborn to work on anything else, and when I do, I have to actually– TIM (BACKGROUND): Oh, woah– ARCHIVIST: –read the damn thing, which is… TIM (BACKGROUND): –woah… woah!

(MAG039) SASHA: Why record it? ARCHIVIST: What? SASHA: Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there— ARCHIVIST: I said I was sorry. If I’d known Martin had another one stashed in here, I never would have… SASHA: No, it’s, it’s fine, just… I just don’t understand. I thought you hated the damn thing. You’re always going on about it. ARCHIVIST: I do! I did. I just… […]

“I did”, yIPS. But now, Jon is… I don’t think that saying “he’s grown fond of it” would be the right thing; it’s mostly that he polarized a lot of his actions around it? Keeping it running, keeping things recorded, is almost becoming his priority?

(MAG039) SASHA: What are you doing?! ARCHIVIST: Almost… SASHA: Leave it, it’s not— ARCHIVIST: I got it!

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: What, Sasha, NO! [DOOR OPENS] SASHA: Tim, look out! ARCHIVIST: Watch out for the tape—

(Aouch, for this last one ;;;; There were… other things to shout about…) It was to the point that when unable to stand up, he asked/ordered Martin to be His Eyes… and not even for him:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Right. There we go. Martin, what do you see? MARTIN: Hm? What? ARCHIVIST: I can’t really stand up yet. I need you to describe what’s going on. For the record.

(MAG039) ELIAS: You [Sasha] did bring a tape recorder. I just thought Jon would appreciate as many supplementary recordings as possible. For the record.

(GUHUTGVHIBGH Elias’s “For the record” is him deliberately quoting Jon, isn’t it. They didn’t say it at the same time, since we couldn’t hear the Fire Alarm system yet when Martin and Jon were talking, while it was already on when Sasha and Elias were talking… So Elias’s was definitely after Jon’s and the same phrasing sure doesn’t sound like a coincidence and that’s terrible of him.) (You could also go “Awww cute! Elias is attentive to Jon's concerns!” I guess but.)

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Martin, could you pass me the tape recorder? MARTIN: Sure. I think it’s running out, though. ARCHIVIST: Fine. I suppose I can turn it back on when we’re being eaten alive.

(MAG039) SASHA: [SPEECH IS ECHOED FROM THE ROOM AS SHE WALKS] [With some despondency in tone] Okay, Jon. I know you’ll want to know what’s been happening. If you’re still alive after this.

(I love Jon’s sarcasm better when it’s turned towards himself in self-depreciative/grim expectations =D) And of course, Jon was concerned that a valuable tape was lost:

(MAG040) ELIAS: […] I suggested [Sasha] turn the tape recorder on, largely so this sort of debrief wouldn’t be necessary. Did you not get the tape? ARCHIVIST: No. There was… some sort of problem. Sasha told me the tape was lost. ELIAS: Hm. […]

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: Right… Right. What about the tape? You had the tape recorder, the one I’d just recorded Mr. Ramao’s statement on. But when you gave it back, it was empty. NOT!SASHA: Yes, I dropped it a few times. The eject button must have been hit. I didn’t notice until you pointed it out. It’s probably around somewhere. Is it that important? ARCHIVIST: It’s important to me.

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: […] Some of my tapes are missing. Maybe it was Prentiss, but she seemed more interested in the written files, and the other tapes seem fine. There’s no sign of debris, or anything that would indicate they’ve been destroyed, but, in addition to the tape Sasha lost earlier, the tapes for cases 0051701 and 0160204 are gone. I don’t know why these two specifically, but I cannot trust anyone.

……………. I do understand (it’s tangible proof) but still… he’s not feeling comfortable with the idea of losing the tapes in particular… AND I ALREADY UNDERSTOOD WHY THESE TAPES IN PARTICULAR DISAPPEARED… The calliope case and Sasha’s encounter with Michael both had the original Sasha’s voice on them (+ obviously, the one in which she was killed and replaced). Strangely, though: Sasha also spoke on Martin’s tape recorder (when they were in the safe room) and Jon mentions that that one “survived just fine” – despite the fact that not!Sasha would have had plenty of time to dispose of it when she joined Tim’s and Jon’s bodies after Prentiss’s death. So did she do something to that last tape (but Jon hadn’t noticed yet at this point), or… is Jon, anyway, unable to listen to it again, since it hits too close to home? It contains his screams, his fears, his confessions about his stance about the supernatural and, of course, his encounter with Prentiss, and Jon is clearly traumatized by that last one. * I also wonder if Jon won’t prevent some tapes from circulating: the one from Martin’s tape recorder (MAG039), for the reasons mentioned just above, and the one from MAG040, since… Jon ended that one with his thoughts about Gertrude’s murder, and the fact that he “cannot trust anyone.” We learned thanks to Tim (MAG033) that students and researchers sometimes listen to the tapes, and so do the assistants, since they pointed out some of Jon’s mistakes, but maybe Jon will prevent that for new ones? It wouldn’t sound like a good idea to allow people to hear about it when one of them could be Gertrude’s killer. * And now, Martin has been shown using another tape recorder, too:

(MAG039) TIM: Why do you have a second tape recorder, Martin? MARTIN: Oh, um… well, I’ve been using it to record myself. I write poetry and I think the tapes have a sort of… low-fi charm.

Did he buy/bring it in himself, or did he find this one in the Institute? Jon had mentioned in the trailer that he had found the tape recorder he is using in the building (“I managed to unearth this old tape recorder from storage, and these cassettes, archaic as they may be, are still better than nothing.”), so there could have been a few still in shape. … And Martin mentioned that Gertrude’s body was surrounded by tapes (MAG040: “Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes. […] She was sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room.”), so WOOOOOOPS, looks. Like Gertrude was using them, too, and this is probably why there are so many cassette tapes in the Institute. But how did they proceed, before tape recorders were a thing? Did they have another way to separate bullshit statements from “real” statements?

Overall notes on episodes’ contents

* MAG034: Live-statement of Dr. Lionel Elliott about the peculiar seven students following his “Introduction to Human Anatomy and Physiology” class at London’s King’s College during the first semester of 2016: Erika Mustermann, Jan Novak, Piotr and Pavel Petrov, John Doe, Fulan al-Fulani and Juan Pérez. He isn’t able to remember anything about them since they were almost aggressively unnoticeable (“They all just looked so… normal. Unremarkable.”) They were curious about basic anatomy knowledge and also apparently learned to breathe, to get accurate bones and heartbeats through the course. Dr. Elliott avoided them as much as he could and still ended up pretty messed up by practical lessons, one involving skeletons and the other hearts dissection. At some point, he went to visit their house (they were all living together.) and heard “a muffled scream of pain came from somewhere deep inside the house. It sounded ragged, like whoever was crying out had been gagged.” He Didn’t Teach Them About The Liver and fled. At the end of semester, he found an apple and a handwritten note (“Thank you for teaching us the insides”); cutting the apple in half, he discovered “human teeth arranged in a smile”. According to Jon’s follow-up, those are “healthy adult teeth, and most of them appeared to come from different people”; he also mentions that the previous year, Dr. Rashid Sadana (teaching the “Anatomy, Physiology and Pathology for Complementary Therapies” course at St Mary’s University) ~committed suicide~ and left a note saying “NOT TO BE USED FOR TEACHING”.

………….. They Wanted To Learn. They were kinda cute in their own way. Terrifying, but also really eager to learn. They looked so out of things and totally following their own interests that it diluted a bit of the horror, it was almost comedic sometimes? Such as when Dr. Elliott when to their home and heard the screaming, it was almost… cartoon-ish. Horrible and poor guy who was inside, sure, but also so incongruous that it felt almost funny. (I didn’t catch on to Dr Elliott’s… quirky voice? because hollow laughers of ahaha-I’m-so-eff’d-up; I thought he was genuinely trying to alleviate the mood at first, being indulgent about the technology, throwing in little morbid references, but nop, it became more and more explicit that he was totally losing it. Oops.) I assumed that Dr. Rashid Sadana had been killed off by the Things because he was deemed a bad teacher (and that they had left the note to convey that no!! this one is bad!! and has a bad body!! give us a better teacher!!) but a friend mentioned that it could be that he got the class the previous year, committed suicide for real, and put the note to request that his corpse not be used in anatomy classes. Oopsies in both cases. (But I would assumed that he would have asked to get cremated or something, to escape the faint probability of being used as teaching material?)

Small things overall: the worms are getting more and more present, WOOPSIE (Dr. Elliott commented on the infestation). I liked Dr Elliott’s programme of his statement, which… set the mood (“Where do want me to start? The bones? The blood? The… uh… the fruit?”) and made you wonder how those things could tie together; his honesty about his, erh, lack of concern for them as a teacher (“I’m a bit ashamed to admit it, but I came to terms with the fact that I didn’t care if they passed any exams, and that actually made the whole affair more manageable. I just did my best to stop caring.”, “And I’d long since decided with this class, that if I couldn’t see or hear it, I didn’t care.”) but also booooo-ooooo, bad teacher! When Jon mentioned that “Juan Pérez’ is the generic name of choice in most Spanish speaking countries” Iiiiiii didn’t know this one (more used to “fulano”)? So idk if it’s my own lack of culture but it is listed on the English wiki, so I’m eyeing Jon hard since his linguistic researches (officially “a quick Internet search”) apparently consisted in consulting… Wikipedia of all things <3 That’s so shameful for a researcher. It was also interesting to have him and Jon interacting because 1°) An episode beginning with Jon going “Apologies for […]” to someone??? In my TMA episode??? It’s more likely than you think!!, 2°) The fact that Jon’s Ritualistic Procedures were not exactly understood by Dr Elliott and that he had to… orientate him a bit more (“[…] Statement begins.” “*silence* Now?” “Yes. Just start from the beginning.” “Right. […]”), it just made Jon’s little quirks sound so silly, 3°) As mentioned earlier, I’m still laughing at someone throwing a “Do I look like an idiot?!” at Jon because. Yeah, likely that for Jon, y’all idiots. But it was nice to see someone implying Jon’s question was super duper dumb =D

* MAG035: Harold Silvana about the underground tunnels he discovered during renovations taking place at the Reform Club located at 100 Pall Mall. During a night shift, together with Rachael Turley and Alfred Bartlett, they were joined by Gerard Keay, who was searching for (and smelling?) “Leitner’s pages” and destroyed a bit of the wall with a hammer (“I heard a scream, high-pitched, but it definitely didn’t come from any of us.”) that revealed a corridor. They went in, Alf(red) felt as though the corridors were getting “narrower” (but measuring it proved that it wasn’t the case). They reached a crossroads, with thirteen doorways (“There was one that, for all the world, it felt like I was going to fall into it. Another was so dark that our torches didn’t seem to reach more than a few feet inside.”) plus their own, and a datestone in the middle signed with Robert Smirke’s name. Gerard began running down one, Alf followed him; Rachel went back to get help, Harold followed Alf. He stumbled, at some point; Gerard ran back out holding a book, and Silvana kept seeing small bones, and discovered Alf’s dead body in a small room at the end of the corridor. He had trouble getting back out (had trouble remembering) but eventually managed. The Police was there, retrieved Alf’s body. Harold’s team had to reconstruct the wall and swear they wouldn’t dig deeper (ha.); Harold gave this statement to tell someone the truth about his coworker’s death.

So that was the Harold Silvana case mentioned by Sasha back in MAG034! My heart had screamed “Tim! Tim!” as soon as the statement began to mention architecture, and even more when they discovered the tunnels (and then Robert Smirke was even mentioned!). I was so glad to have confirmation that Tim worked on this one <3 There was a sort of… tender amusement? in Jon’s voice when he rambled about Tim’s reactions (“You should have seen Tim’s face when I told him.”). It was almost half of the post-statement and totally gratuitous, that was so cute from Jon! However, there was something a bit weird about Sasha’s research around Harold Silvana’s statement:

(MAG024) ARCHIVIST […]: I thought you were trying to get hold of those police reports for the Harold Silvana case? SASHA: Tried and succeeded. They were actually quite helpful.

(MAG035) Over the last three months Sasha has attempted to contact Mr. Silvana, Rachel Turley, the management of the Reform Club and any of the police officers involved. All of them flatly deny any of this ever took place.

… what she had said back then and what Jon concluded here didn’t really match, so…? (Or is it again a matter of Jon… withholding information at the time of the recording: the fact that the police is trying to cover it up could be perceived as a valuable information, although a very concerning one ^^’) I really liked this statement-giver’s voice; the way he gave off the feeling of being pretty objective about his work and what he’s doing (having to use fancy nouns (craftsman, artisan) to qualify what he does but being aware that he’s mostly a “builder”) while being pretty confident at the same time (“So yes, my services are expensive, but me and my team are worth every penny. And the sort of people I deal with, or should I say the sort of people whose personal assistants I deal with, can afford it. / I don’t have a company, per se. People hire me for me, and I have a small team I trust to help out with the work itself.”) – he’s working with Rich People but he’s not one of them, really conscious of money issues here and there, including when it could be a disservice to him (“We were given to understand that the police were handling the matter, and if we pursued it closer then we would not be getting any further work from members of the club. As this covers almost everybody who can afford our services, we complied. It makes me feel sick, though, like we’re just abandoning Alf, dishonouring his memory. It’s not even like he had any family to miss him, it just feels wrong. I guess, maybe, that’s why I’m talking to you.”) I really like that yes, he had his interests in mind, of course! that’s human! but also shared this story in the hope of… something being done for his friend’s memory, because he didn’t like that they had to silence the truth about his death.

This one statement managed to intertwine many familiar names. Jurgen Leitner, Gerard Keay (I was wondering if it was him since his first description; then he confirmed his name! and Jon was assuming that yeah, it was indeed Gerard Keay and not any Gerard), Robert Smirke. Gerard Keay (who, again, seems to be mostly involved when Leitner’s books are around?) seemed to be trying to protect bystanders in previous statements – Lesere Saraki in December 2011 (MAG012) and Dominic Swain in winter 2012 (MAG004) – but it wasn’t really the case here ;; Events from this one took place at least ten years before the other two (statement was given in June 2002), so did something happen inbetween, which prompted a shift? He was also portrayed as very young in this one (called “kid” and he answered about his mother when asked a question: “When we asked him how he knew what was behind that wall he just shrugged, and told us that his mother knows all about this stuff.”) … I’m especially laughing really hard at how Harold described Jurgen Leitner back in 1987, because? Y’know? With the collection of Evil Books, I was a bit thinking about a stern, sinister person, but Harold described a… lunatic? throwing a tantrum when builders wanted to respect Legal Procedures when he asked them to dig a hole in his office (“When we told him we’d need to confirm it with the commercial landlord, he got very defensive, told us that it was fine and he’d need to discuss it with some other contractors first. When we told him we’d just need to have a quick phone call with the owner, he started screaming that we didn’t understand what we were talking about, that he didn’t need to explain himself to the likes of us, and there were some things… that were too important… too powerful to be owned. Then he just started yelling at us in Norwegian until we left.”)

Cute things aside, WHAT WAS THAT ENDING……………. Worms being here (it answered a question I had about whether or not the worms were getting inside the building or only around), and it sounded like Another Friday (Jon was already used to it?), and there was a ~special delivery~ from ~two mysterious characters~ for Jon, although Martin was the one there for the reception. (The script spoiled me about Who Was Speaking; I… objectively know that I should pay attention to any mentions of a pair of delivery men, I did until now, but somehow I think I wouldn’t have thought of them in that exact moment. Somehow.) Also woopsies, the sound of worms… faded when B&H’s steps began to be heard (we could still hear the sound when Jon left, so he didn’t squash them). Did the worms… flee… at their approach…

* MAG036: Nicole Baxter, a funeral director/mortician, about the strange incidents happening in Ivy Meadows Care Home during mid-August 2011-or-2012. She was working in Baxter and Gordon Funeral Directors (in Woodley) – William Gordon had passed away 5 years prior, George Baxter (Nicole’s uncle) is currently running it alone, Nicole and her cousin Josh (George’s son) have been hired to help. One day, Nicole Baxter received a call from a nurse, Alenka Kozel, about one of Ivy Meadows’ thirtyish residents (Bertrand Miller) who got ill and passed away (“I asked her for a few more details; she started to say something else, but the call was cut off almost abruptly.”) When Nicole and Josh went, the place seemed smellier and dirtier than usual; the new director, John Amherst, was unsettling (Josh declined shaking his hand) and took a while before accepting to lead them to Bertrand Miller’s body. On their way, they didn’t see anyone else (“I thought I spotted one of the nurses at one point, but they had turned and walked away as soon as they saw us.”). John Amherst instructed that Bertrand Miller should get cremated and the ashes returned to Ivy Meadows, for a “private remembrance service”; when Nicole&Josh saw the body, they were appalled but he told them that “the disease that had claimed poor Mr. Miller wasn’t contagious”. A bit of Nicole’s skin was accidentally exposed despite her gloves, during the handling, and she touched the corpse; it kept feeling itchy afterwards. George Baxter had trouble believing them but ended up taking care of the matter (“He had us tell it to him one more time, before he nodded, told us to stay away from the corpse of Bertrand Miller, and left, telling us he had to make a few calls. I have never seen a cremation done with such a quick turnaround […].”) and refused to send the ashes back to the residence. Two weeks later, Nicole received another call from Alenka Kozel, who just repeated “Come quickly. We’ve taken ill. We’ve passed away.” Nicole decided to go back to the place: it was silent and felt even dirtier and ill. She heard a tapping sound and went around to the other side of the building: what remained of Alenka Kozel was tapping against the window. Nicole tried to flee, got tackled by a strange old man who was accompanied by a young woman; the pair decided to let her go. They apparently burned the place down. Nicole’s hand is Still Not Fine at the time of the writing. Post-statement reveals that she lost her left hand “in what she calls ‘a workplace accident’”; that Ivy Meadows had been officially decommissioned in July and burned down on September 4th due to a gas leak; that Bertrand Miller had died on July 19th according to his death certificate – one week before Ivy Meadows was decommissioned. No trace of a John Amherst anywhere.

(Statement was given in November of the same year, though, and it’s stated as 2012, while Jon is mentioning the year 2011 in his post-statement… so it looks like Mr “I’m not re-recording them” made more mistakes! =D)

My computer is still dying and loves to lag at the worst times because it did it once again (“There was nobody behind it, and I rang the bell. I always wore gloves when on a removal, and was glad of that fact now, as I noticed a /// greasy residue on top of the small brass bell.”), giving me a bonus jumpscare. I had been warned that it was a ~disgusting~ statement, but no, it was a very sad one??? A story about… out-of-the-loop people, isolated by their situations, who had managed to make a good place for themselves despise the circumstances (“Something about the mutual loneliness seemed to lead them to create a real sense of community. It was the only place I ever went where the residents still gave me a smile. […] It was just a happy place, even if I was only there to do a sad duty.”)… and they ended up getting caught, imprisoned and consumed (?) by some evil thingy ;; Nicole Baxter had described Ivy Meadows as “removed enough from main road that it stood alone”, “almost entirely populated by those elderly who were entirely supported by the state”, “Old people without money or family, sent to be looked after by strangers”, and Jon added in the follow-up that the records were disastrous, making it hard to pinpoint who was still living there at the time, and that the staff was mostly undeclared immigrant (“the place employed a reasonable number of international staff they preferred to keep off the books”), so there was really this feeling that… something preyed on vulnerable people, who couldn’t fight back, and it was very, very sad. Jon himself didn’t exactly try to shoot this one down, he mostly highlighted the lack of physical proof in a way that was very neutral compared to his usual standards (he didn’t complain about people wasting his time or whatever), so it gave me the impression that he was a bit… gentler, towards these people who apparently suffered a great deal without anyone noticing, and who now can’t be remembered.

I liked Nicole’s tone! The first part of her statement was very aware and reflexive, she sounded very polite and neat overall? Not assuming that everyone would share her reasoning, so explaining her thought process in detail (“Fear is a strange thing, isn’t it? What you’re afraid of. […] There is one thing about dead bodies that does bother me, though. One thing that... eats at me, as it were, and does give me that sick tightness of fear deep in my gut. It is rot. […] That… the fear, the feeling. That tingling, squirming fear at the back of my mind […].”), before catching herself (“I’m rambling. Disregard this first page, I’ll start again.”), able to appreciate people and to throw in some dark humour here and there (“It feels odd to consider the fact that you will no longer exist some day, but you didn’t exist for billions of years before your birth, so, it doesn’t seem unreasonable to conclude that you will not exist afterwards in much the same way. I try to see life as a pleasant holiday from non-existence. It provides some comfort when the truth of my own mortality stares me in the face every day.”; “For a funeral director to say she has a favourite nursing home probably sounds a bit like the Grim Reaper talking about his favourite hospital, but it’s true.”). The self-awareness was still present at the time of her statement (“at that point we had no idea that there was anything wrong, but looking back it seems like we both felt there was something off about it. Or maybe we were just too hot for conversation and hindsight is colouring my memories.”) and there was a cautiousness about the way she dealt with her own memories that I found very pleasant. It sounds like George Baxter might have had an idea about what had happened, or at least had contacts who were able to provide some assistance/instructions about how to handle the body? Maybe we'll we hear about him again?

Nicole’s “I stood there, torn between wanting to flee and needing to know.” reminded me a bit of how Lesere Saraki had watched without doing anything (MAG012: Gerard Keay’s “Yes. For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.”) and, of course, Jon’s own declaration to Sasha (MAG026: “No. Whatever’s going on, I… need to know.”) Plus, there were two options later on (“I asked them what was going on, and the old man looked at his companion, as if asking permission, said something about knowledge being a good defence here. She shook her head and said that leaving quickly was a better one.”), so I really had the reflex to wonder about what Jon would have done instead, there. I’m not sure whether Alenka Kozel (the nurse) had tried to bait the statement-giver inside the residence, or was trying to get help – thinking at first that removing and disposing of the corpse would save them, in her first call, maybe? The first call had been cut short and John Amherst was apparently angry that someone had called for the morticians, so it sounded a bit as if… she had tried to do this in a last attempt (whether or not she was already contaminated herself), before getting caught and maybe prevented from interacting with Nicole when she went to retrieve the body. The second call sounded more like she had only vaguely kept  the reflex of How She Used To Human ;; (The residence was already illegal at this point, but I’m not sure if the staff knew about it when it happened… and then it was already too late for them, uh ;;) No idea about “Trevor”&the woman’s priority: granting the Ivy Meadows’ people an actual death to free them from their state? Trying to prevent the thing that had contaminated them from spreading further? Neutralizing John Amherst?

Small Jon Things: I found Jon’s tone especially funny when he reported the cross-checking (“We did contact the Baxters. Joshua Baxter repeated the first part of the above statement. George Baxter told us not to listen to tall tales. Nicole Baxter said she stands by her account […].”); I don’t know what is making me smile exactly in those repetitions, the… laconism, maybe? Also, when Tim interrupted him and asked if he could talk, Jon went from one voice to another (“Yes… Yes, I’m just about finished here, what is it?”): drowsy at first (although he had been more composed when acknowledging Tim’s entrance), then firmer, Usual Boss Jon Back At It. The contrast was nice <3 AND I’M SO GLAD TO HAVE HEARD TIM AGAIN!! Jon discovered that a lighter and a table had been delivered for him, is worried about the table, is going to ask more about it to Martin (“I need to talk to Martin. Uh, end recording.”: 1°) Yes, you always need to talk to Martin. Please, talk to Martin more. 2°) Jon probably moved a bit in his chair when he opened the drawer and/or talked with Tim, since there was a slight strain in his voice at the end, perfectly making you hear that he was extending his arm to reach the tape recorder and turn it off. Nice touch!)

… THERE WAS ONE THING SUPER STRANGE, and it is how. the. heckie. Jon managed to think about Trevor in the statement (“And the old man and his companion… who does that remind me of? If he wasn’t dead, I’d think it might have been Trevor—”). The only mention we had of him, afaik, was in MAG010 (Trevor’s own statement), so an internal POV, and Jon… thought about him despise the fact that it was an exterior description here? (And also despite the fact that Trevor apparently died the year prior.) And the only shared trait between Trevor in MAG010 and this mysterious man here is the accent from Manchester? So 1°) is it a matter of Jon once again withholding information, and knowing more about Trevor than what he said?, 2°) is it a matter of somethingsomething spooky happening, that allowed him to recognize someone because he’s read a first-person POV of the same person once?, 3°) … or did Jon forget to mention that he had seen pictures of Trevor? (MAG010: “So everyone around Manchester knows about Trevor the Tramp, sure. I hear someone even made me a page on the Internet and it got a few thousand likes. I don’t know exactly what that means but it sounds nice.” => Jon didn’t mention whether he checked that page, but should have been one of the first things to do.) Anyway, something was weird about that.

* MAG037: Jason North, about his discovery in the forest, near Loch Glass in Scotland. He found a clearing with trees that seemed deliberately arranged in a circle (they must have been planted at least fifty years ago), with a stone in the middle serving as a chair or an altar, with scorch marks on the ground. First weird thing happened when he entered the clearing: he got suffocatingly hot and his bottled water boiled his throat, making him collapse for a while. He noticed dead animals at the edge of the clearing, that looked like they were all badly sunburned – either they all were at the same time, either they were preserved in this state somehow. Iron nails were planted on the trees, suspending old milk bottles thanks to strings that “seemed far cleaner and newer than the bottles or their contents”. The content of the bottles varied (“some had pine needles and twigs, some were full of dirt, and one or two even held what appeared to be rainwater”) but all had, inside, the photograph of an old lady and a lock of hair (“grey, in poor condition”). While trying to take a picture, he accidentally dropped a bottle, which shattered on the ground; he knew he had done something very bad and fled, taking the picture with him. His car burned on the way home; his home (and his wife) burned during the week. He wants to save his son, Ethan. (Follow-up explains that, seven years later, the son is still alive; Jason immolated himself three days after giving his statement.)

Beginning of the episode had the discussion between Martin&Jon (about the deliveries for Jon) that was announced at the end of the previous episode… and it was more of an interrogation, really. I wanted to hear Martin again but not!! like!! this!! Jon, you’re going back to MAG022, ie not deserving Martin’s existence :[ How dare you pressure and be so cutting towards him!! How many times did Martin have to repeat himself before Jon launched the tape recorder ;; (And only because in the end, Jon wanted a trace of Martin’s version. Friendship ended with… well, nobody, but Tape Recorder Is Jon’s Best Friend Anyway, now.)

About the statement in itself: LOOK, I was already sad for the dude in MAG035 (the fact that the cause of his death was kept silent), I was sad that the isolated elderly and immigrant workers in MAG036, and now this??? I’m not spooked, just incredibly SAD????? I was the most heartbreaking one that I ever heard so far????? T________T 1°) It’s not the first one, but I have a Weakness for a character being well aware that they made a mistake, or at least did something that they shouldn’t have done… but Jason was also aware that he was also suffering from a very cruel and disproportionate retribution and aouch aouch aouch… (“I’m sorry. I know. There’s no-one to blame but my own stupid self. Blundering in where I had no right to go. […] For everything it’s done to me, I didn’t really do anything at all. Just messed around in the wrong clearing. […] I didn’t need to enter the clearing. But I did. […] The moment I crossed that threshold I knew I had made a mistake. […] I’ve always been too curious for my own stupid good. […] God knows I should have just left; it’s not like there weren’t plenty of warning signs. I just chose not to pay attention. […] and instantly I knew that I had meddled with something I should have left alone. […] I shouldn’t be in this mess. It’s absurd. I didn’t do anything wrong. I just dropped a bottle. That’s all! I don’t deserve this. I don’t.”)

2°) … he turned towards the Institute for help while… suspecting that they wouldn’t help. He is right, I guess? The Institute will never move a finger to help, that’s not its function, it’s here to… watch people burn (and other things, but “burn” fits, here)………..

3°) … and it wasn’t even help for himself only, it was for his son!!! And he just loves his son so much and you could hear it and T___T (“I just need to know if you can save my son. […] If I’m scared I’m going to lose Ethan like I lost everything else, then I’ll curl into a ball and never get up. I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. I won’t let my son burn, even if you cowards don’t have the guts to step up and do something. […] I didn’t mind being alone, though, because I knew I had my little boy Ethan waiting for me back at home. Four years old and already sharp as anything. And my wife Lucy. She used to be waiting for me as well. […] Now there’s only one thing I have left that I value. That I love. And I cannot lose him. I can’t lose Ethan.”). His job used to have to do with protecting animals (“Do you know what a pine marten is? It’s a wee bear. An adorable wee bear that needs to be protected.”), and the two were resonating strongly, and he had seen those scorched animals and he was fearing for his son and it’s just. The parallel was awful?! ;;

4°) I… found Jon overly emotional compared to his usual self, and it was subtle, mostly having to do with his way of delivering information: he began the follow-up with the mention that the little kid is still alive (“He didn’t, in the end. Lose Ethan, that is. Ethan North is currently a healthy eleven-year-old boy living with a loving foster family in Inverness.”) and… it gave me the impression that it was indeed the Most Important, that needed to be said – as if, in a way, it was to bring comfort to Jason, to convey that information to him posthumously? Jon didn’t need to put reassuring adjectives (“healthy”, “loving”) but he did, because he deemed that important. And gods ;; The rest of the follow-up, explaining that Jason North had apparently immolated himself just three days after giving the statement (“There’s no reason to believe that when Jason North doused himself in petrol on August the 10th 2009, then lit himself on fire, he was doing anything other than acting out the delusions of a paranoid alcoholic.”) was so… unconvincing, and Jon himself sounded unconvinced by what he was saying, that it made it clear that yes, the Institute did nothing; that yes, Jason North killed himself in the end to protect his son from whatever curse was pursuing him. So the follow-up was… giving me the impression that Jon was trying to communicate to Jason that yes, he did it, he had managed, he had succeeded in saving his son in the end (or at least, that it can be said and known that Jason did it). Jon’s voice was also less firm than usual, he was a bit softer and slower. Could be the tiredness, could also be because it was… simply a sad story. (Span of guilt, maybe, too, on the Institute’s behalf? The fact that Jason was desperate for help and didn’t receive any, just got told to write his story… without any compensation?, should sting a bit.) I had guessed that the picture was probably Gertrude’s ;; So what happened? Was it a ritual to try to kill her off, or something she did to neutralize some evil spooky powers from another cluster? Jon Couldn’t Anymore, at least (“I have no idea what this means. I have no idea what any of this means. I’m very tired.” with his voice drifting, he sounded like he was on the verge of dropping from his chair, eyes already closed and overall… very vulnerable.)

* MAG038: Andre Ramao, about an old vase and the disappearances of items around him. He is in the antiques business, used to have a shop, has been facing financial difficulties and ended up buying from Mikaele Salesa (who has a shady reputation legality-wise) in March 2012. Andre bought cavalry sabres from the Revolutionary War, a British artilleryman’s tunic from World War I, some more items. He got a crush on an old Chinese pot from the Jiajing period (“the blue glaze was painted on in crisp, thin geometric lines. They repeated perfectly and seemed to get smaller and more intricate the closer I looked, but the shapes they formed never lost any of the precision, seeming to continue on however closely I looked. The effect was disorientating, and made the vase seem smaller than it actually was. It made my head hurt a bit when I looked at it for too long. It was amazing.”), ended up buying it. However, later, when he received the invoice, the vase wasn’t listed: he contacted Salesa, who didn’t believe that he had ever owned the vase, asked for a few pictures, was suspicious (scared?) overall, and told Andre to keep it. Items then began to disappear around Andre: a pair of polished shoes, then a signed copy of Catch-22 that he held dear, etc. – including items bought from Mikaele Salesa, who, when called, answered that he had never sold these items to him (and they had indeed disappeared from the invoice). His husband David was beginning to get really worried, not remembering the items and thinking that Andre needed medical help. A month before giving his statement, Andre fell asleep in front of the vase (“I don’t remember my dream. Running, maybe?”), woke up seeing the missing items (and more) falling out from the vase; then, “the pale shapes of long, thin fingertips begin to creep above the lip of the pot” and he ran away. When he came back, David was gone, and so was the vase. According to Andre’s landlord, he has always lived alone. (The beginning of the post-statement reveals that, although the second name is blank, there is a marriage licence attesting that Andre was indeed married to someone.) Jon is cut short in his follow-up by the sight of an Unholy Creature (a spider on the wall), smashes it, makes shelves collapse, gets Sasha’s attention (and chuckles), causes a dent in the wall, discovers (many?) worms and screams at Sasha to run away.

I was thinking that this one might break the stream of Statements That Make Me Sad, and I was indeed pretty neutral at first despite the fact that it sounded right away like it wasn’t just a punctual spooky event but an ongoing thing, a bit like a curse (like last statement); from the get-go, the narrator sure didn’t sound like he was having a good time, but he was also able to crack a few jokes (“We haggled a bit, and eventually reached a price I considered only a little bit unreasonable.”, “[Mikaele Salesa] asked me if I’d had a chance to try out the sabres yet, which I’m pretty sure was a joke.”), so it couldn’t be that bad? And then, there was His Problem, the escalation from innocuous items to the book that was precious to him, and the mention that he was married to a man, the fear of being gaslighted/going crazy (“My perceptions are the only ones I can trust. Maybe. I don’t know.”, “For a while I thought he was actually trying to gaslight me, make me think I was losing my mind”), and now it wasn’t a book but the love of his life who disappeared, and there is no trace of him left, no proof that they were married… (“David was gone. I allowed myself some brief hope that maybe he’d just left me, maybe he’d escaped with just a divorce. But no. One call to the housing association confirmed that, as far as they were concerned, I’d always lived alone.”). LISTEN, that was… incredibly upsetting to think about, for a queer couple?! To think that his husband disappeared and that nobody would remember that they were married, to think that the person he loved was just erased like this…? (I mean, yeah, it wouldn’t have been funny for a straight couple either! But for a queer couple… there is the added heartbreak of people who maybe had to fight a bit to get to their current life, who were probably used to have people around them denying who they were, that they had a bond, that they were a couple – and here, one of them got erased out of existence…) (And it’s Tim who found the marriage certificate!!! Must have been super sad for Tim…) I wouldn’t have remembered the “Salesa” name from MAG014 if Jon hadn’t mentioned ~ case #0112905~! Also dealt with antiques, was also shady, except not alone back then. Andre mentioned some books (“several crates packed to the brim with heavy-looking volumes”) ssssso maybe he’s also hoarding some Leitners? Jon was pretty neutral for a follow-up, and he insisted pretty clearly that Andre Ramao had been married, so ;; Good. But given that his speech was interrupted by the spider, we don’t know if Andre Ramao is still alive or if they managed to contact him again.

… I’m still putting my hands on my face over the fact that 1°) after MAG016 and the “ghost spider”, Jon still thinks it’s a good idea to smash spiders (you’re so getting haunted, dude, and it will be karma for upsetting Martin), 2°) THAT HE DID IT IN WHAT IS BASICALLY MARTIN’S CURRENT HOUSE, 3°) that he dared to complain about Martin’s recriminations (“Oh, god. I don’t think I could stand another lecture on their importance to the ecosystem.”). I myself really don’t like spiders but LISTEN! If there is a kind soul that would be ready to get the spider out, you take this opportunity and you send them to their dea- to their duty. THAT ENDING… I was expecting the season finale to probably span two episodes, didn’t expect for things to go south already at the end of this one x’) The wall is not an exterior wall but a fake wall with… things crawling inside or behind. Welp. At least, we’re beginning to know how worms were getting in.

* MAG039: Worms Apocalypse. Tape Recorder 1 (the same as from MAG038): Jon trying to retrieve the tape recorder in the middle of the worm infestation; Martin arriving, beginning to use the fire extinguishers; the three of them running… and Jon losing the tape recorder. Tape Recorder 2 (Martin’s): Sasha, Jon and Martin in the sealed room. Jon gets at least one worm (painfully) removed thanks to Martin’s corkscrew, has trouble standing up. Jon explains that he doesn’t want to die as a “mystery”, hence the obsessive recording (“Whoever takes over from me is going to know exactly what happened.”) and makes a distinction between “real” statements and everything else – he pays more attention to the statements that don’t record digitally. Outside of the room, it looks like the worms have receded a bit; Tim comes back from his lunch; Jane Prentiss is approaching; they try to warn him but he can’t hear them; Sasha decides to barge in (out) to save Tim. Tape Recorder 1: Tim “Joe Spooky” finds the tape recorder lying on the floor and shamelessly pokes fun at Jon; Sasha jumps on him and they struggle a bit. Sasha grabs the tape recorder. Tape Recorder 2: Martin and Jon, now alone in the sealed room, hypothesise about Tim’s survival chances – they’re low, but Martin had a secret stash of fire extinguishers hidden in the office. Jon doesn’t think it was necessary to hide them, since the worms can’t have a consciousness. Martin gets mad at him about the scepticism (they’re supernatural!), Jon defends himself and confesses that he does believe the ~real~ statements but was afraid to state it, since he always felt watched during the recordings. Meanwhile, Prentiss is vomiting into some boxes. Jon wants to know why Martin is still working here; Martin admits that he has thought about quitting but didn’t in the end. Jon misinterprets his wording as Martin being a ghost. Tape Recorder 1: Sasha found Elias, after having activated the fire alarm (urging people to evacuate). ELIAS REVEALS THAT JONATHAN “I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!” SIMS USED TO BE A SMOKER. Elias explains that until now, he had been a bit dismissive of their fears of the worm-things. The carbon dioxide system used to regulate fire hasn't turned on, however, since there isn’t any real fire; they go to activate it manually. Tape Recorder 1: Something is banging on the wall of Jon&Martin’s room. Turns out to be Tim, alive (yay!) and high on CO2 (YAY!): he found the fire extinguisher, and also secret tunnels, and also is totally out of it. They decide to try to go through the tunnels, since there are less worms there. Tape Recorder 2: Sasha is in the Artefact Storage, having gotten separated from Elias by a “wave of worms”. She explains that she used to work there, at first, and that she hates the place. She notices the Fucking Table that was delivered a few episodes ago, then sees something and addresses the thing. She screams. Something repeats some of her last words (“Hello? I see you.”) Tape Recorder 1: Tim and Jon are in the tunnels; they lost Martin (or Martin left them behind), and the tunnels don’t sound like a great idea anymore due to the worms’ aggressive behaviour. Tim is going to open a trapdoor, hoping it doesn’t lead them back to the Archives. Tim opens it: apparently, it does – there is Jane Prentiss. Indication that the situation is catastrophic: Jon says “Shit.”

I’m a stupid silly brat, but I really had to pause, 2’30 in, to just… shake it off and laugh (I was in tears). Jon having the worst priority and risking everything for the tape recorder because OF COURSE? (Jon, no.) Jon shouting orders for Martin to do things but being at a loss about where to go or how to take initiative? (Not holding yourself to your own standards, uh? =D) Martin’s frantic “I don’t see her! I don’t see her! I don’t see her!” while spraying CO2 everywhere. (He… probably had his eyes closed at this moment, wasn’t he.) The “[RUNNING, PURSUED BY WORMS]” which was just… Beautiful. The fact that we jumped to the worm extraction, and yes, that moment was chilling (Jon… screaming. Gg. Gg. Aesthetic.), but also immediately followed by Sasha commenting about how disclaimer: Contrary To Some People, I Have Not Been A Softie!!, because Priorities, with Jon coming back from Painland just to bite back about how He Obviously Got It Worse So It Can’t Be Compared because PRIORITIES. And the reveal that they have used a corkscrew, that Martin had been hoarding a corkscrew, and Sasha’s immediate reaction being to ask if he was basically partying in the Archives (picture Jon’s horrified&murderous face here, probably). Martin explaining his reasoning, followed by the biggest pause ever perfectly conveying the Stares and the Judging, before Martin tried to defend himself (“Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay.”) At this point, I was losing it from laughter. Yes, the situation is dire! Yes, bad stuff happening! But rfidjnrfdcuhjn they were all adorkable at the same time. Silly idiots. Just. Those three’s priorities. (Sasha: to explain that she takes pain better than Jon / Jon: to explain that no, it’s because Sasha was bad at removing his worm / Martin: justifying why he had been clinging for dear life to a corkscrew for the past months.) And silly urban posh idiots – who somehow never… ever… considered… a tick remover… for worms… (or even tweezers!!!). The three of you have never set one toe in the countryside ever, have you. (I’m really, really losing it over how nobody thought about using a tick remover.)

I think I gushed extensively over many things from this episode already, so I’m going to stick to the basic facts: I had seen fanarts of smoking!Jon, I had assumed it was for the Aesthetic of it (which. Indeed. Noice.), but I was… not prepared… to learn it this way (=> because Elias made a quick comment about it, and the way he delivered that information). That said, FUCK YOU ELIAS RE: WHAT HAPPENED TO SASHA (I’m even more upset given how Sasha… quickly mentioned that she was aware that Elias was a bit too suspiciously shady, being too good at changing the subject when it’s apparently touchy, and ahahaha, she’s the first one to die, right after… discussing and rushing with Elias. How convenient.) It was really action-packed and all the dialogues were great, damniiit! The way tension and laughs were mixed together, with the delivery of information, and how… yes, finally, we got to get a glimpse of Jon himself during the crisis!! Aaaaand the fact that Sasha died… raised the stakes, I guess: because this one thing means Changes and means that no, definite and bad things can also happen… even when we think that the worst is behind. (I have heard of some of the Many Awful Things to come. But this was the first incidence of something terrible and definitive happening: Martin had made it out alive in MAG022, so did Sasha in MAG026, Jon’s worm was removed at the beginning of this episode, and so far, they had managed to avoid them… But Sasha didn’t escape the table.) (And then, the worms got Tim and Jon. But it’s pretty ironic that, in the end, Jane Prentiss, who was set up as the season’s antagonist… didn’t manage to kill any of them, while The Table did.)

* MAG040: Worms apocalypse – The Follow Ups. Jon got out of quarantine and is on painkillers, and refuses to go home until he has the staff’s individual statements about their whereabouts during the invasion. Elias is not happy about Jon’s stubbornness, confirms that Jane Prentiss is dead and burned (he watched.), but ultimately relents. - Elias was in his office when the fire alarm was activated. He began to evacuate, was joined by Sasha, who explained that she was the one responsible for the fire alarm and that the others were currently trapped in the Archives, attacked by worms. They went to activate the fire suppression system manually, got separated by a tidal wave of worms. Elias took another road, activated the system alone after a while, called the fire department, an ambulance and a contact at the ECDC that had worked on a Jane Prentiss case before, and went down to the Archives. Sasha was already there, with Jon’s and Tim’s bodies – in bad shape. Jon and Tim were taken away, Jane Prentiss was being prepared for disposal, when Martin came back through the trapdoor, saying that he had found a body. Jon asks Elias about Gertrude Robinson’s death, and Elias begrudgingly answers: on 15th March 2015, he had come down to the Archives, discovered lots of blood on her desk; the police confirmed it was hers and that a human body couldn’t have survived such an injury. The police took over the case, and Elias appointed Jon as the new archivist. - Tim is out of quarantine and dead inside: his joke about “itching” led to more tests, hence the fact that he came out after Jon. Tim recalls how, after lunch, when he came back to the archives, he discovered the tape recorder on the ground: Jane Prentiss appeared, Sasha tackled him, they struggled a bit and he told her to go get help. He ran to take shelter into the office but discovered more worms and the hole in the wall. He found the CO2 canisters, used them a lot, went into the tunnels – and has some trouble remembering details from then on, because of respiratory acidosis. He avoided the few (fast) worms he met, wandered a bit until he heard Martin’s and Jon’s voices and demolished some plasterboard and that’s when they got reunited. Tim is not sure, but he also thinks that he recalls a room in which worms were forming a sort of ring, or a doorway. He killed them with CO2. - “Sasha” quickly explains that she saved Tim, fled, activated the alarm, went to Elias, got separated from him, retreated in the Artefact Storage room. She heard Prentiss’s scream when the fire system got activated, and saw that the worms died. She went back to the Archives, discovered Tim’s and Jon’s bodies, still alive but barely, dragged them to a place with more air and began to remove the worms. Elias joined her with the people he had contacted; Sasha explained what had happened and waited with Elias. One or two hours afterwards, they heard shouts, and Martin came back from the trapdoor, saying that he had found Gertrude’s body. Elias called the police at this moment. Jon asked about the whereabouts of the tape she had on her: Sasha says that it probably got ejected one of the times the tape recorder fell. - Martin is tired, got interrogated by the police. He feels guilty that he left Jon and Tim back in the tunnels, insists that it was an accident, is not fine about it; Jon calms him down. Martin describes how he got lost in the tunnels, until he found Gertrude’s body, sat on a chair with boxes of tapes around. He ran away and managed to find the trapdoor, in the end. He doesn’t think that he will be able to find the place again. Jon pressures him to know how Gertrude died: Martin finally confesses that he saw three bullet wounds in her chest. - Gertrude was shot and it terrifies Jon. He thinks that she had managed to learn a secret behind the statements, and that that's why she was murdered. He notes that some of his tapes are now missing, and that he won’t trust anyone around him – but that he’s going to uncover the mysteries.

I screamed a lot about this one in the character sections, so I’ll try to be quick (ha). I… loved it… so much… the way Jon behaved differently with everyone… the way the information was distilled (slowly making us understand that Martin had found a body, that it was Gertrude’s body, the fact that we finally heard the whole story from Martin’s mouth at the end)… I’m weeping at Jon towards the end, because obviously, NOOOOOOO DON’T D: (It’s very close to the feeling of excitement you can get when a character usually announces that he will go on an adventure, or go after a mystery… but here, it’s not coming with joy. It’s Jon going deeper into something that is likely to hurt him, and he doesn’t sound like he’s doing with a happy vibe, but with fear and dread. And he’s going alone. And Aouch.)

* Season 1’s Q&A

… It’s making me feel very very weird to call People Behind The Show by their first names like they’re old friends when I’m a newcomer and I’ve been listening for uuuuuuuuuuh 8 weeks but apparently that what the fanbase does s o…

- Laughed hard about Jonny explaining that they got asked a lot whether his/Jon’s accent was fake (“I go a little bit dryer, a little bit more…” “Academic.” “Academic, yes, for Jonathan, but it is my real voice.”: that was very charitable from you two, you could have said “more stuck-up and haughty” for Jon because the difference was jarring =D and he’s giving academia a bad name.), but

Alex: Funnily, no one asked if all the other characters’ voices are real. Jonny: No, apparently they, they sound– Alex: Human. Jonny: –they sound genuine […].

- … I didn’t know that Jonny had planned from the start that the series would be 5 seasons-long bUT I LOVE IT!!!

Jonny: Then I crafted the ending… as in, the ending of season 5. I hate series that don’t have an end goal. […] And since then, aspects of the end have shifted slightly with the writing – because they always do – but I still know where it’s going.

- … and I love how, in the same breath, it’s also very down-to-earth.

Jonny: A couple of the episodes which are… dream-like in tone because they were written to be dream-like, others are a bit dream-like in tone because it was very late at night when they were written.

- Preparation for an episode:

Jonny: Obviously, I've been fasting for a few days to purify the blood. […] To be honest, largely it involves just reading down a few paragraphs in the Archivist’s voice, to get my head in the right space for actually reading it.

- Alex’s Sufferings laid in the multicast recording episodes because directing challenges! =D

Jonny: [They were] easily the most complicated. Alex: Ooooh yeah. Jonny: Because we were doing an actual audio drama rather than an audiodrama-esque anthology series.

- Question about “Are there any Magnus Bloopers? Has Jonathan Sims ever laughed, ever?”

Jonny: No. No. Alex: *undignified laughter* Jonny: No, I laugh a lot. Alex: *BURSTS OUT LAUGHING* Jonny: I laugh uproariously. Some might say that I laugh too much. Alex: Not many. Jonny: No, no, I've never actually heard it, but I assume they say it.

(From the production side, though, Alex said they won’t release the bloopers any time soon “because they’re a bit of a mood-killer” :( So we’re getting killings and our happy mood getting repeatedly hurt, but still no bloopers.)

Jonny: Also, I’m very sweary in real life.

LET JON SAY “FUCK”!!! (Though yeah, Jon’s “Shit.” was… earned.) … But it’s also having to do with itunes’ ratings, ooooh.

Jonny: No rude words. I could say ‘BOMBS’ maybe… Alex: *laughs* Jonny: … but I won’t.

(I KNOW ABOUT TIM :[[[[[[)

- … Alex, what did you DO to pasta. (About the SFX for the Hive)

Alex: I won’t tell people how we make the worms sound, but it just involves A LOT of pasta. LOTS AND LOTS of pasta. Jonny: Deeeeliiiicious screaming pasta.

- Status towards fanbase is LOVE, main emotion is “gratifying” and oooh, reminds me a bit of Ryuukishi07’s stance: Jonny said he was lurking (~keep an eye on~, said twice.) to check some people’s specific opinions, because they tended to pick up on things (and if they didn’t, it meant that Jonny should insist on them). … And also, about the mistakes that had been spotted (I’m guessing this is what prompted the beginning of MAG033 with Tim? =D), “It’s actually fair.” (and Jonny compared to getting someone pointing out your mistakes during a final exam), because it is a ~Mystery~ so you’re supposed to get the tools to understand things! … so yeah, all the comparisons between TMA and Umineko (insert here discussions/debates from the canon about Mystery/Fantasy/Anti-Mystery/Anti-Fantasy/Without Love It Cannot Be Seen) still totally stand /o/

- We’re keeping the “regular” formula /o/

Jonny: Generally, as the series goes on, there will be more of that [like end of season 1/more live-actions things]; at its core, it will still remain one episode = one statement = one story.

- Biggest challenge in season 2?

Jonny: Balancing horror and mystery.

(Because there is The Power of the Unknown at the beginning of series, so it’s easier, so the biggest challenge would be to balance the “unknown and story while at the same time providing enough answers to the mystery”; giving answers but not everything; and we’re getting promised that some things will stay hidden. YEP UMINEKO ALL OVER AGAIN YAAAAAASSSSS!!!)

- Alex commented about “Jonny’s sultry tones” so is there a competition going on with Ben (and others) about who’s getting the Sultriest voice.

Alex: And weee look forward to seeing you again for season 2! Jonny: See you then :)

I’M NOT SMILING AT THAT LAST ONE :[

Actualization on current main threads:

- Jon & Injuries I DID GATHER that Jon has been collecting injuries by the end of season 3, so I’m keeping track of them. * MAG039: bitten by at least one worm towards the beginning (“Did you get it?”), maybe more, and it was on his leg:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: I can’t really stand up yet. […] MARTIN: Can, can you walk, Jon? ARCHIVIST: No, I can limp.

* MAG040: at the end of the previous episode, encountered Jane Prentiss, and it went… badly, so currently covered in holes/scars. And so is Tim.

- Oh So Many Red Flags for Gertrude * MAG037: during the summer of 2009, Jason North discovered a clearing with scorch marks, with trees in a circle. Bottles were suspended, each containing a picture of Gertrude (“An old woman, probably in her fifties or sixties, wearing reading glasses and grey hair curled into a tight bun. She stared out disapprovingly from every bottle.”). Jon dates the picture as “circa 2002 as best I can tell.” * MAG039, Jon: “I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help and the police were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality.” (… Revealing that it wasn’t a clear death, contrary to what we had been told until then. In MAG011, Jon had reported that Elias “simply said she had passed away and not to worry about it overmuch. Actually, now I think about it, his exact phrase was that she ‘died in the line of duty’, which I had assumed meant having a stroke at her desk or something similar”.) * MAG040: according to Elias, on the 15th of March 2015, she disappeared and a lot of blood was discovered at her desk – the Police did confirm that it was hers, and Elias appointed Jon as her successor. At the end of MAG039’s events, Martin discovered her body when he was lost in the tunnels:

(MAG040) MARTIN: […] When I finally found a door, I thought it might actually get out, but instead… It was a small room. Square. There was dust on everything. Cardboard boxes were piled around. They were full of old cassette tapes. […] She was sat in a wooden chair in the middle of the room. No worms. No cobwebs. Just… an old corpse. Gertrude Robinson. She was slumped forward, but I could see her mouth hanging open.

She was shot three times in the chest. Jon believes that someone from the Institute murdered her, because she had put her finger on something hidden under the statements.

- FEAAAARRRRS … It sounded superfluous to pay attention to this since “it’s a podcast about fear and about gods/Entities related to fears” was something I knew even before beginning to listen, but at this point, Jon is beginning to understand that the way people experience fear(s) is relevant, so! I want to keep track of the steps, now (/but I’m also too lazy to go back) (for now): * MAG032, Jane Prentiss’s statement: “You must understand, it sings so sweetly, and I need it, but I am afraid. […] The song is loud and beautiful and I am so very afraid.” * MAG033, Carlita Sloane’s statement: “[Sean Kelly] didn’t talk any more than the others, but he also didn’t go around with that blank look on his face. He looked scared.” * MAG035, Harold Silvana’s statement: “[Alfred Bartlett] was dead. I couldn’t see any injuries on him. He didn’t even seem hurt. But looking at how still he lay there, the terrified, awful expression frozen on his face, there was no chance he was alive.” * MAG036, Nicole Baxter’s statement: “Fear is a strange thing, isn’t it? What you’re afraid of. For most people, a corpse is at the least unnerving and, for some, outright terrifying. Or maybe it’s disgust. They are two very different feelings, aren’t they? Though they often bleed into each other, if you’ll pardon the pun.” MAG036, Jon: “Still, there’s a lot here that puts me in mind of other statements. Something in the way Ms. Baxter talks about fear. I can’t help but be reminded of statement 0142302, how Jane Prentiss talks about her own fears.” * MAG037, Jason North’s statement: “I’ve been drinking. […] Only way to keep the fear from settling in. If I’m scared I’m going to lose Ethan like I lost everything else, then I’ll curl into a ball and never get up.”

- Fractals Geometrical patterns YES ALRIGHT, that’s a lot of mysterious items/obsessions with geometric patterns here and there, so *squints* * MAG003: Amy Patel described The Table (currently at the Institute, forwarded to Jon) as “an “ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion. I found my eyes following the lines towards the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole.” Tim confirmed the “Fascinating design on it.” (MAG036) * MAG008: Ivo Lensik’s father suffered from schizophrenia (or did he.), went recluse to dedicate his life to his ~work~: “fractals. He became obsessed with them, seemed to spend all of his time drawing them, staring at them, measuring the patterns they created. He would talk to me for hours about the maths behind them and tell me that he was on the verge of a great truth. He was going to shake mathematics to its foundations once he figured out this truth, hidden in those cascading fractal patterns.” He was found “in a pool of blood, with deep gouges along his wrists and arms. […] The inquest ruled his death a suicide, although the coroner wasn’t able to identify the tool that had made the cuts on his arms or why he had such a look of fear on his face.” * MAG038: Andre Rameo’s vase was described with “blue glaze was painted on in crisp, thin geometric lines. They repeated perfectly and seemed to get smaller and more intricate the closer I looked, but the shapes they formed never lost any of the precision, seeming to continue on however closely I looked. The effect was disorientating, and made the vase seem smaller than it actually was. It made my head hurt a bit when I looked at it for too long. It was amazing.” … And Ivo Lensik’s father had told him that “someone was following him, told me that they were planning to stop his work. I asked him who it was but he shook his head violently and said I’d know him when I saw him because ‘all the bones are in his hands’.” (MAG008), which is… the way Not!Sasha described Michael (MAG040: “Yes, Michael… With the bones in his hands. We still don’t know much about him, do we?”), unlike Sasha, who had noticed the big hands but not described them in these words. So. The death of Ivo Lensik’s father sounds quite likely to be related to Michael, and it seems that Not!Sasha had heard about him/it? (… Sasha tended to say “it”.)

- Worms * They tend to go inside the building by MAG034:

(MAG034) ARCHIVIST: Well… quite. Now, if you’d be so good as to— DR. ELLIOTT: You know you have an infestation, don’t you? ARCHIVIST: Excuse me? I’m not sure— DR. ELLIOTT: Yes, little, grey, maggot things. I saw a few on the way in. Don’t recognise the species, but I’d say you need to get the exterminators in here. Gas the little blighters. ARCHIVIST: You saw them? You weren’t bitten were you? DR. ELLIOTT: Bitten? They’re worms. Still, I’ll admit I didn’t like the look of them. I reckon the sooner you get someone in to kill them dead, the better. ARCHIVIST: We’ve tried, believe me.

* … Sometimes popping up in the Archives as of MAG035, given that at least one appear(s) near Jon and that he already sounded a bit used to the procedure to exterminate them (“Martin, where did you put the rest of the extinguishers? Martin!”). * There. A lot of them, hidden by plasterboard-that-wasn’t-an-exterior-wall at the end of MAG038. * The main characters of MAG039, apparently synched with Jane Prentiss or something since they all died when she/it did. Had the time to scar Tim and Jon, probably forever.

- Spiderrrrrs * MAG008: in late 2006, Ivo Lensik discovered the box that apparently goes inside The Table: it contained a green apple that immediately rotted and split, freeing hundreds of spiders; Ivo then “smashed it with a crowbar and threw the remains into a skip”. * MAG016: ghost spiders haunting Carlos Vittery, who died shortly after giving his statement (his “body was completely encased in web”). The spiders may have been attracted by the worms, since Jane Prentiss was hiding in the building’s basement? According to Carlos, “they provided a good meal for the eight-legged little monsters.” * MAG022: Martin is knowledgeable about spiders, won’t allow Jon to slander them (“I knew there was something not right about the whole thing from the off. I said it probably wasn't natural, him dying and being encased in web when he was found, and I stand by that”) and also Loves Them – “I like spiders. Big ones, at least. Y’know, y’know the ones you can see some fur on; I actually think they’re sort of cute—” (Jon… doesn’t.) * MAG032: Jane Prentiss reported spiders in her home, before discovering the nest – “There were webs in the corners, around the entryway into the attic. I would watch them scurry and disappear in between the wooden boards. ‘Where are you going, little spiders?’ I would think. ‘What are you seeing in the dark? Is it food? Prey? Predators?’” * MAG035: Breekon and Hope (?) deliver an old zippo with a spider web design on the front for Jon, who discovers it in MAG036. * MAG038: a spider on the wall, that Jon smashed with glee despite all common sense, led to the discovery that the worms were infesting the passages around the Archives.

- Teeth * MAG005: The bin men discovered a bag containing “hundreds, thousands of teeth” at 93 Lancaster Road. According to police reports, they were “all in different stages of decay and didn’t match any available dental records, but all two thousand seven hundred and eighty of them were the exact same tooth.” * MAG034: Students form anatomy class left an apple with “healthy adult teeth, and most of them appeared to come from different people” inside of it for Dr. Lionel Elliott.

- The Table (aaaand the box.) According to Amy Patel, “an “ornate wooden thing, with a snaking pattern of lines weaving their way around towards the centre. The pattern was hypnotic and shifted as I watched it, like an optical illusion. I found my eyes following the lines towards the middle of the table, where there was nothing but a small square hole.” (MAG003) * MAG003: used to belong to Graham Folger, who had bought it years ago in a second-hand shop (“It had been in pretty bad shape but he’d spent a long time and a lot of money restoring it, though he’d never been able to figure out what was supposed to go in the centre. He assumed it was a separate piece and couldn’t track it down.”) Graham was ~replaced~ by a Not Graham on April 7th, 2006. * MAG008: on November 23rd 2006, Ivo Lensik discovered “a small wooden box, about six inches square, with an intricate pattern carved along the outside. Engraved lines covered it, warping and weaving together, making it hard to look away” under the bleeding tree from the House on Hill Top Road. The box contained a green apple that immediately rotted and split, liberating hundred of spiders; Ivo then “smashed it with a crowbar and threw the remains into a skip” (Agnes Montague’s body was found on the same day: she had hanged herself, was 26-except-she-shouldn’t-have-been, and had a severed right hand with her.) * MAG035: the table was brought in by Breekon and Hope delivery, along with a zippo, for Jon. (<- unclear what they delivered exactly, since they only mentioned a “Package for Jonathan Sims” to Martin at this point) * MAG036: according to Tim, Martin “took delivery of a couple of items last week addressed to you.” Jon had forgotten, until now, that Martin has put it in his desk drawer: he discovers the lighter/old zippo with a spider web design on the front; the table, meanwhile, “was sent straight to the Artefact Storage”. * MAG037: Martin actually didn’t see the table and thinks Rosie must have signed for its reception, since her desk is on the way to Artefact Storage. According to Jon, Rosie described “Two men, doesn’t know how they got in, too intimidated to ask”, so it’s not actually quite clear if she signed for the reception? Martin thinks they should destroy it, Elias advised in that direction, but Jon decides that nah. (“I’m more inclined to keep studying it. We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge.”) * MAG039: during the Prentiss attack of the Institute, Sasha took shelter in the Artefact Storage, arrived in front of the table (“I’ve found… I’ve found that table you were talking about. Don’t really see what all the fuss is about. Just a… basic… optical illusion. Nothing special…”) and felt someone; was replaced by Not Sasha, without the others being aware of it.

- The Lighter/old zippo with a spider web design on the front. * MAG035: the zippo, along with The Table, was delivered by Breekon and Hope delivery for Jon. (<- unclear what they delivered exactly, since they only mentioned a “Package for Jonathan Sims” to Martin at this point) * MAG036: when Tim mentions the items that Martin received for Jon the previous week, Jon remembers the package that Martin had put in his desk draw: he discovers the lighter (and vehemently denies being a smoker).

(MAG036) TIM: Okay. Is there anything unusual about it? ARCHIVIST: Not really. Just a sort of spider web design on the front. Doesn’t mean anything to me. You? TIM: Ah no. No. ARCHIVIST: Well… show it to the others, see what they think.

(So the others saw it, which explains why Sasha was able to tell Elias that Jon had a lighter in MAG039.)

- Breekon and Hope delivery I’m almost tempted to wonder if they’re not actually working for the Institute, since the red calliope was taken by them before January 2005 and it had been stored in the Institute’s Artefact Storage since “somewhere in 2007”, but I’m also feeling that this could be a hilariously wrong assessment. * MAG035: On-tape, post-statement, while Jon was away and Martin had come down, they delivered the ornate wooden table that used to belong to Graham Folger (MAG003). * MAG037: According to Martin, remembering the delivery, they looked aggressively normal: “There were two delivery men. They were big, and they spoke with cockney accents that might have been fake, and they delivered a package for you. I don’t remember anything else about what they looked like. […] They looked normal. Like you’d expect. They looked like two, huge, cockney delivery men.” According to Rosie, reported by Jon: “Two men, doesn’t know how they got in, too intimidated to ask, looked ‘exactly like you’d expect’.”

- Mikaele Salesa * MAG014: Lee Rentoul had mentioned that Noriega, his target, was supposed to meet with Salesa: “a big Samoan guy with close-cropped hair”, “dealt mainly in stolen art and curious, valuable stuff, and was paranoid as hell, which meant Noriega was going to be there alone”. Salesa came with “four men in dark suits, who carried a square wooden crate between them” and they left with it (apparently, the business transaction didn’t work out). … was it the coffin from MAG002, maybe? * MAG038: according to Andre Ramao, he “has a good reputation for quality, but a… bad reputation for legality”. Andre Ramao bought a spooky antique vase from his “showroom” (a warehouse); Mikaele Salesa was the only person to have ever laughed about his joke (“I’ve been in the antiques business for a long time. It’s not what it used to be. […] There’s a follow up to that one, you know. Something along the lines of the joke being so old only an antiques dealer would be able to sell it.”) When Andre contacted him because Salesa hadn’t put the vase on his invoice, Salesa didn’t remember ever owning it, asked for pictures, and declared: “I do not remember having that thing, which means it belongs to you.” Andre mentioned that there were big books in Salesa’s warehouse (“I recall I felt a moment of relief that I didn’t deal in books, as I caught sight of several crates packed to the brim with heavy-looking volumes.”), so maybe some more Leitners? * MAG038: Jon, in his follow-up, identifies him a bit more; “he appears to have something of a knack for locating objects displaying more… disconcerting phenomena. I believe some of the more bizarre things in the Artefact Storage area were purchased from him.” (Is he perhaps tied to the Institute?)

- Trevor Herbert and a woman * MAG010: on July 10th 2010, Trevor gave his statement about the death of his brother and his activities as a vampire hunter, succumbed to lung cancer in the Institute’s break room before he could keep going. * MAG036: a “faded white Transit van” was parked in front of Ivy Meadows. There was an “old man” with a “long, white beard matted and filthy”, a “thick Mancunian accent”, a skin that was “unblemished pink” who temporally immobilized the statement giver (Nicole Baxter); he was accompanied by a “young woman, tall and lean with close-cropped hair and a deep scar over her right eye” who advised to let her go. They burned down Ivy Meadows (and what was left of their residents…?). No further description, but Nicole felt like she had already seen the man (“I could swear I recognised him from somewhere”) and Jon couldn’t help but think about Trevor for some reason (spooky? Hiding information from us again? Went to consult Trevor’s Internet page mentioned in MAG010?).

- John Amherst * MAG036: he was the new Director of Ivy Meadows, succeeding Hannah Ramirez (“tall man”, “rail thin”, “wore a faded brown suit that seemed to have been cut for a much fatter man. His eyes were a watery blue and his dark hair stood on top of his head in an unruly mess. He must have been around forty, but had a nervous sort of energy to him”, had a “thick, sweaty hand”). According to Jon, he doesn’t exist (or not under this name?): they’ve been “unable to locate anyone fitting that description anywhere within the care or medical sector, and he certainly never ran any nursing homes.” Unclear if he died in the fire or is at large ;;

- Mary and Gerard Keay * MAG035: before June 4th 2002 (the date of the statement), Gerard Key (“looked to be in his late teens”, “dressed all in black, with heavy looking boots and a T-shirt with the logo of some band emblazoned on it, Megadon or Mastodon, or something like that. His hair was long and greasy, almost down to his shoulders, and looked to be dyed almost the same black as his clothes.”) was searching for “Leitner’s pages”, destroyed a fake wall and went into hidden corridors apparently constructed by Robert Smirke. He retrieved a book and fled. Due to the amount of bones, I suppose it’s the Leitner book that Mary Keay had in her possession in Winter 2012 (MAG004)?

- Jurgen Leitner (and his books) * MAG035: Harold Silvana and Rachel met him in London back in 1987. He was then, “a businessman from Norway”, described with “portly, middle-aged, short blond hair in the middle of going grey, well-tailored business suit”, and had his office in the building next to the Reform Club (100 Pall Mall). He wanted them to dig a hole (“He said he needed a hole put through the floor. I thought there would have been a basement under there, and he said no, the building’s basement didn’t go under these rooms.”) Jon confirmed that he had “hired out an office on the ground floor of 100 Pall Mall between 1985 and 1994. He was apparently one of the premier worldwide dealers in rare and antique books at the time, with items selling for the sort of sums where an office in Pall Mall doesn’t raise any eyebrows.” (MAG035) * MAG035: Harold Silvana could smell something like “Damp old stone and musty paper, just a faint whiff” (which was apparently the smell of “Leitner’s pages” according to Gerard Keay?). Gerard Keay retrieved a book that left bones behind in the corridors elaborated by Robert Smirke, so probably the book Mary Keay had in her possession in MAG004. Jon wonders if the books in the tunnels were “where they were found, or just where they were stored.”

- Robert Smirke Tim is a fan! * MAG035: mentioned by Harold Silvana as the architect behind the British Museum and Carlton Club (which got destroyed during the Second War, and where the 100 Pall Mall currently stands instead: “it looked like the underground foundations, or whatever this place was, had not been damaged”). Apparently, he constructed a system of galleries underground, one entrance being on 100 Pall Mall: Harold&company reached a crossroads with fourteen doorways (including theirs): “There was one that, for all the world, it felt like I was going to fall into it. Another was so dark that our torches didn’t seem to reach more than a few feet inside.” In the middle, a datestone had a mention: “Robert Smirke, 1835. Balance and fear”. Harold’s coworker was found dead in “a small, round room. Against the walls were old bookshelves, decayed and empty, save for a few mouldering pages” and Gerard Keay had apparently retrieved a book from here (leaving bones behind). Harold Silvana had trouble getting out, took some wrong doors in the crossroads, only remembers “the vaguest memories: flashes of a pile of paper, completely covered in cobweb; a figure stood in the darkness, a stranger I didn’t know but was sure meant me harm; my skin burning, hot, choking on smoke down there in the dark.” (I’m supposing there was one doorway for each entity…? … was it including one for the Institute then.) According to Jon, “Smirke’s buildings have higher percentages of reported paranormal sightings than any other architect of similar profile.” * MAG040: Tim thinks that the tunnels under the Institute might be related to some of Smirke’s buildings (MAG040, Martin: “It’s a, it’s a maze down there, Jon. I don’t know how far the passages go, maybe miles. I think it must be the old Millbank Prison, like Tim was saying before. I even found some stairs at one point, but I really didn’t want to go down them.”)

Live statements so far:

* MAG013: Naomi Herne * MAG022: Martin Blackwood [archive team] * MAG026: Sasha James [archive team] * MAG028: Melanie King * MAG034: Dr. Lionel Elliott * MAG040: Elias Bouchard, Tim Stoker, “Sasha James”, Martin Blackwood [debriefing post-Prentiss attack] 

Time, what is time

Additional note: Sasha went after police reports for the Harold Silvana case back in MAG024 (March 2016), and Jon recorded this one in MAG035 (July 2016) – so at least 4 months passed between some research and the recording. I’m assuming that they’re all working on multiple cases at the same time, but still, that makes quite a long time before the beginning of their investigations and the moment they archive/“close” cases! * MAG013: 13/01/2016 * MAG022: 12/03/2016 [Martin begins to live in the Archives] * MAG023: one week later (Martin: “It’s been a week and we’ve seen nothing.”) * MAG026: 02/04/2016 (recounting events from March 31st and April 1st) * MAG028: 17/04/2016 * MAG031: Mid-May 2016? (“It’s… been two months now… since Martin returned…”) * MAG034: 12/07/2016. * MAG039: [28th or 29th July 2016] * MAG040: 29/07/2016.

Quotes that I keep in mind, feeling that I’ll cry over them soon:

(MAG037, Jason North’s statement): God knows I should have just left; it’s not like there weren’t plenty of warning signs. I just chose not to pay attention.

(Jon ;;…….)

(MAG037) MARTIN: […] Look, Jon, I do think we should destroy the table, though. I mean, if it’s the one from Amy Patel’s statement. Just in case. ARCHIVIST: Elias told me the same thing. Luckily he phrased it as advice rather than an instruction, so for now I’m more inclined to keep studying it. We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge.

(… Already crying over the fact that Jon wanted to “keep studying” the table, hence keeping it intact, hence Sasha’s death, but also, that “We’re not in the business of destroying knowledge”…)

(MAG040) ARCHIVIST: No. I need to be here, keep watch, I need to be sure…

There was obviously some terrible “hahaha.” feeling, as a listener, when Jon went on about how he was feeling ~watched~ when he recorded, and how he was afraid that the thing watching him perhaps could learn/know about what he was truly thinking. It’s. Exactly what we listeners are doing. We’re the voyeurs. And we’ve made him feel Uncomfortable since the beginning. GREAT.

(Yeah, this post got insanely long, I’m hooked, I’m in pain, I hate everything, and I’m consuming the series like precious sweets. Or have been so far; I want to have caught up by the end of the hiatus but it looks like an impossible task if I keep trying to review it, and I Don’t Know How To Deal With Concision :| So I’ll ~see~. I’m laughing at myself for having thought that hey, Cass! if you take notes and everything, you won’t need to relisten to this! Thanks past!self, nearpast!self already relistened to everything a few times anyway, and present!self is planning to relisten to this series a lot anyway, YOU THOUGHT you wouldn’t like the series enough to do it and you were Wrong. So anyway. IT’S AN AMAZING SERIES, I LOVE IT SO MUCH??? And I know there's a lot of even better stuff to come???)