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astrologyandlife · 3 years ago

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uranus in taurus + climate science: part i

for a couple of years, i have been very interested in the relationship between uranus' current station in taurus and the increasing focus on what's occurring with earth's climate. i was also hoping to make some predictions as to what we are going to see over the next several years given this relationship. so, i decided to compile those findings here for you guys to take a look as well! i want to note that this survey is very U.S. and western-centric, and i welcome any discussion that take into account broader global trends or even just ideas you guys have about the topic!

part i. the pattern

i first took a look at the previous cycle to try and understand a little bit more about the cultural patterns and key events surrounding uranus' movement through the signs, starting with...

uranus in taurus (1934-1941): the great depression; sandwiched between ww1 and ww2, most countries were struggling financially, with the stock market crash of 1929 kicking off the great depression. the financial strain on germany is a significant cause of actions leading to the second world war, which began toward the end of this cycle. out of this crisis came the New Deal, which would completely revolutionize the U.S. economy and financial system. some relevant info/aspects:

10/24/1929 - aries uranus bi-quintile virgo neptune 0°31' (the confident speculation and attitude of the roaring 20's brought on by uranus crumbled as the stock market bubble burst when neptune entered virgo and reality set in)

09/01/1939 - aries jupiter semi-square taurus uranus almost exactly (considered the day ww2 began, sudden change of luck for the worse with taurus representing the economy and aries war)

late 1941 - taurus uranus trine virgo neptune (a lack of scrutiny towards hitler allowed him to continue accruing power)

05/03/1942 - taurus saturn exactly conjunct taurus uranus at 29° (fateful, the beginning of a very dark period of suffering, restriction, and fear)

uranus in gemini (1941-1948): the holocaust + ww2; ww2 was in full swing at this point, and the holocaust began in 1941 after the nazi regime took hold in germany. the holocaust began after a systemic and calculated effort to scapegoat and smear jewish people through the media and government of the time. this was a period of deep unrest and uncertainty, ended only when the war came to a close in 1945. some relevant info/aspects:

uranus was opposite of sagittarius, known for open-mindedness and acceptance of other cultures, ethnicities, etc.

late 1941 + early 1942 - cancer jupiter semi-square gemini uranus (a negative shift of luck)

late 1941 + early 1942 - gemini uranus trine libra neptune (once again lack of scrutiny towards leaders, but this is more favorable for them to manipulate the masses through media, communication, and diplomacy due to the influence of air signs)

1943-1945 - gemini uranus sextile leo pluto (positive transformation is beginning, specifically in relation to new technologies and a societal shift)

01/01/1945 - gemini uranus sextile leo pluto -0°14' (the conclusion of germany's final offensive, where they lost and the war was largely coming to an end with germany's defeat becoming clear)

mid-1946 - libra jupiter trine gemini uranus (a period of good luck and peace post-war)

late 1947 - leo saturn sextile gemini uranus (economies shift towards stability as industries like television, automobiles, and consumer products begin to take center stage; commercials get their start during this year)

from just these two time periods alone, some interesting patterns appear to be emerging. from here on out, we will just examine the meaning of the sign uranus sits in:

uranus in cancer (1948-1955): the baby boom; finally, with the war over marked a distinct and significant shift in attention to the homefront. there was a need to focus on revitalizing the economy and on domestic life. and with that came the baby boom. during this time, the largest number of babies was born. there was also an influx of new household appliances and pastimes at this time. uranus in leo (1955-1961): the civil rights movement; during this cycle there was a huge shift in focus on the rights of black people in America, who were unfairly treated. famous figures like rosa parks, martin luther king jr., and malcolm x rose to fame as they pioneered change, socially and legally. this laid the groundwork for several other civil rights movements to follow. uranus in virgo (1961-1968): women's liberation movement; birth control, women's rights in the workplace, and second wave feminism were all relevant issues in the public. the vietnam war also begins, with its popularity highest during uranus' time in this sign. uranus in libra (1968-1974): anti-war sentiment and peace movements; there is a shift away from blind patriotism as opposition to the war grows. during this time, there is emphasis on peace and harmony, with the hippie subculture beginning to form. tensions between superpowers were also cooled off by this time. uranus in scorpio (1974-1980): a sexual revolution; during this time, there were several things going on, from abortion rights and new forms of birth control, to the beginning of the aids crisis, to gay rights. complete liberation for many groups came during this time, with revolution and rebellion on many people's minds. uranus in sagittarius (1980-1988): laissez-faire capitalism; ronald reagan pushed for trickle-down economics, which saw tax cuts for the rich. this was an explosion of culture, too, with many of the most iconic pieces of media being created at this time. conservative politics began its rise during this time as well, with religious freedom mixing into politics. uranus in capricorn (1988-1995): rebellion against power; the themes of the last two uranus signs culminated during this time, with a shift towards rebelling against power and figures of authority. there was a slow development of technology like video game systems, as well as an influx of companies started by ambitious individuals. uranus in aquarius (1995-2003): the rise of the internet; during this time, the internet became part of daily life for people, who could now connect with anyone across the world. google, amazon, social media, etc. all got their start during this time. people were able to express themselves and learn new things in entirely new ways. uranus in pisces (2003-2010): the market crash; this is the second economic downturn during this cycle, which occurred due to the housing bubble bursting. wall street received a bailout, but many businesses went under and people were forced into desperate situations as a result. uranus in aries (2010-2018): the #metoo movement; during this time, several movements from third-wave feminism to lgbtq+ rights to blm rose to notoriety, and all for good reasons. the injustices of the system were put under a hot spotlight for all to see as illusions of true equality broke down. there is a shift in focus to individual rights and what some may call "identity politics," where there was a move to respect everyone's identity and rights.

in part 2, we will look specifically at uranus in taurus and what it means for us over the next five years. stay tuned!

#i was going to do this all in one part but it got super long #so stay tuned!!#astrology #other #uranus

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bibliocratic · 4 years ago

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I come bearing a sort-of fic idea! (Only if you feel inspired to use it, of course 😊) Back in ep 101, Martin figures out that/where the Stranger has taken Jon, and goes all BAMF to save him, using either Web powers or his developing Backup Archivist powers to do it. (Dealer's choice) Some of that sweet sweet emotional h/c...

Dearest anon, this fic has been so long in the writing, and it’s only distantly related to what you asked for. Hope you like it regardless. :)

Set in an S3 AU, implied JonMartin. Tim-centric.

Content warnings for strongly implied graphic violence, canonical S3 captivity and imprisonment, hospitals and hospitalisation. Rated T for language and implied violence

Jon’s skittering, sprawl-legged slam against the archive door startles Tim from the shadowed walkways of his reveries.

The tilted legs of his chair thump back in a slap to the floor. Almost physically wrenched into the now, there’s a snapback to Tim’s spine, a vice-clench knot tightening in his jaw. His mood cranking up from frosty to furious.

“The fuck?” he barks at the intrusion. His snarling primed with teeth, his temper clawed to rend. He’s up and standing, whereas Jon’s practically handing off the door handle, the impact of his arrival almost knocking his legs out like ten pins from under him. An ugly, airless heaving of his chest. His eyes bloodshot, wild. In the weeks since Tim saw him, his hair has grown out unwashed and limp. His skin shimmering wrong in the light in a way that’s oddly greasy.

He’s a shattering mannequin of a man tending to ruin but Tim’s long pared down his own capacity for compassion. He loads up his questions in their chambers, and he knows where to place emphasis, where to press at the bruising, the soft-tissue targets; where the hell have you been, oh wait, don’t fucking bother, why would you even tell us anything anyway huh, because you don’t even trust us. So why the bloody hell should we care where you go galivanting off to for weeks without a word, fine by us, just fucking peachy.

“Martin,” Jon rasps out finally. His words floundering beached in his mouth, and Tim has never seen this particular mania, this bruise-sick shade of pathetic desperation. “T-tim, please, help, please, god, i-i-it’s Martin.”

Jon’s spasming, quivering hands are staining brown with blood.

“He wouldn’t have just left! Not – not like – like this!”

“You mean without saying anything. Not sharing with the class. I dunno, Martin, sounds exactly like something he’d have done. Classic Jon.”

“I’m telling you, something’s wrong!”

“Ha – everything’s wrong. Narrow it down.”

“You know what I mean! Something’s… He should be here, is all I’m saying, and Elias, well he’s useless but he – he knows something, I’m sure of it. We have to do something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know! Find him!”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to be found. Huh, what about that? Maybe he’s finally managed to fuck off and leave here, legged it and left the rest of us to rot.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“We should – ”

“No. No, listen, Martin. This isn’t a team sport. Jon made his choice to go this alone. If he’s gone off somewhere, then that’s on him. There’s no ‘we’.”

“There used to be.”

Martin didn’t come in for work, and Tim assumed he’d left. Just like Jon.

He’d stewed in that betrayal, pacing lupine and furious, bricking up the walls of himself with his self-righteous anger. Because he’d been right, hadn’t he, he’d been vindicated in his bitterness, because of course Martin had left scurrying after Jon, of course there was never any loyalty to Tim despite his pretensions to their friendship. Of course, Martin hadn’t fucking stayed, and Tim was glad he was gone, free of his nagging and needling and whining.

Tim was acquitted in all his furies, every one of his poisonous doubts. The rose-thorns of his betrayals tore deeper, and he let the wounds fester.

Elias arrives in the aftermath.

Jon collapsed not too long ago. Shock and dehydration and whatever the hell happened to him threaded through him like blood poisoning. He’d babbled to the ambulance crews, his tongue a senseless oracle of clowns and skin and blood. They’d given him a shock blanket, the foil treating the light around them erratically, but he kept shaking it off and trying to stand, dressed in grubby boxers, an overlong coat, the fabric worn to grey at the pockets and stretched to billowing at the chest, clearly belonging to Martin.

It was hard for Tim to hate him like that, even as he’d barked at Jon to stay down. Jon’s face a theatre mask of ghoulish blood, begging the paramedics to help Martin, manic and spiralling.

The old bastard had had a heart after all.

There’s a bank of chairs outside the part of the ward where they’re keeping Jon. He’s pin-cushioned with IV’s, a set of machines monitoring his vitals. He wakes fitfully, and every waking is a pitiful confusion before he sinks back under.

Martin’s still in surgery.

Elias, deigning to leave his ivory tower, his face formed in an impeccable replica of concern. He wants to speak to Jon. To have, as he put it, ‘a private word’. He talks a precisely ordered stream of bullshit in his infuriatingly reasonable tone, about all this being such a terrible tragedy, such a blow to their little family, if only they’d known. Poor Martin, of course, what a horrible ordeal, we’ll naturally help him with recovery, cover any time off, no expense considered.

Tim watches his mouth move, and knows in his gut that Elias could have stopped all this.

That he chose not to.

Elias doesn’t get within a hundred feet of Jon. Tim makes sure of it.

Jon does not speak for days. Delirious and distraught. Martin’s condition worsens, then stabilises, then lingers at critical. There are several more operations, and Tim does not know what they are doing, only that they are reforming a heap of blood and bone back into a person.

Tim wants to know what happened. Where Jon went, where Martin found him, who he needs to hate.

Tim learns to temper his frustration, the desire for knowing that curls at the bottom of his stomach. It is not a natural wanting, and it’s a spiteful, gleeful action, to deny that rot within him.

“Tim?”

“Stay still, boss,” Tim says. “You’ll pull everything out.”

Jon doesn’t say anything more for a long while. Tim shifts uneasy on the chair provided, thinking, hoping that Jon might have sunk back into sleep, when:

“Martin? Is he…?”

Jon turns his head to look at him. His eyes wide, beseeching, wet with fear. Wanting Tim to make this all ok.

Jon’s eyes in this light are a lot like Danny’s. Tim sucks back a hard breath, and doesn’t meet his gaze, and he knows that only distresses Jon further, who will take the avoidance as a death knell, as a punishment he is expecting to have earned.

“He’s alive, boss,” Tim says eventually. The words hard won. “He’s… he’ll be alright.”

That could be a lie. He doesn’t know much these days.

“Th-there was a room,” Jon stammers one day. He’s sat up, pillows stuffed behind his back. Tim’s bought him an apple juice carton like you buy for children, and he hasn’t touched it, even to push the plastic straw through the top.

His fingers at his lap twist, twist, twist.

“It must have been a … a factory floor, or something. One of those old textile mills or something, up near Manchester. It used to have those big machines for spinning cotton, there were big, discoloured spaces on the boards where they would have sat. There were columns, load-bearing, every fifty feet or so, and t-the chair that they – they had me tied to was anchored against one of those s-so it didn’t – so I couldn’t move it, or knock it over. I-I don’t know how long I was… I.” Jon stops, out of breath. “I don’t even know the date.”

Tim tells him. Jon blinks, and murmurs ‘oh’ like it’s not what he was expecting. His hands are shaking. Tim should reach out, shouldn’t he, it should not be this difficult to provide comfort.

His hands have forgotten how easily reassurance used to come to him.

“Th-they didn’t, they didn’t hurt me. Not, well, not exactly, I-I-I mean, it wasn’t – they wanted me unharmed.” Jon’s voice has crept small and crouched, words tuck under his tongue. “They were waiting. For the right time. They were going to t-take my, um, my skin. For their – for the ritual.”

“Christ.” Tim hisses out, because that is fucked, this whole thing is fucked. How the hell is this the way their lives have turned.

Only Jon’s fingers, his restless hands make noise for the next minute.

“I don’t know how Martin found me,” Jon says.

Tim has a creeping suspicion. It’s the same thing that helps Tim spits out exactly the right seeds to allow hurt to take root. What told Martin that there was something wrong. He could call it intuition, but that’s not how their world works.

Gifts, of a sort. For their faithful service at the temple of their all-seeing god.

“He tried to get me out. Snuck in somehow, cut the ropes with this – huh, this battered old kitchen knife. But I couldn’t… they’d had me tied to the chair for so long that standing up was… I couldn’t walk, and it’s my fault, he was half-carrying me but – I slowed him down, a-and then Nikola came back. And I couldn’t do, I couldn’t do anything, there’s never anything I can do, and they pulled me away and I. I tried, Tim, I-I tried, and I wasn’t… please, Tim, you’ve got to believe I tried to stop them.”

Jon’s fingers are moving to fist in his hair, yanking, tugging, his spine moving to fold himself over.

“Stop,” Tim says sharply. Trying to loosen Jon’s clenched hold.

“I tried, I tried – everything, I offered them anything they wanted, and they just kept – I-I-I tried, Tim.”

“I know,” Tim replies. Quieter. Softer. Separating Jon’s hands from his hair, pressing them back down to his lap, his burnt one held over the other pocked with worm scars. Tim doesn’t move his own away from the fragile tower they’ve made. “I – I know, Jon.”

“Martin – there was more of them. It was easy for them, to hurt him until he stopped struggling. They didn’t tie him up, they knew they didn’t need to. A-and Nikola, she was… she s-s-smiled as they pushed him over onto his back. She – she kept smiling. And she said they didn’t need the two of us. That they could have a bit of fun, a bit of – ” Jon’s voice chokes horrified. “A bit of practise. And wouldn’t I like that. To watch. To give the Eye something to look at.”

Jon crumples into tears then. In on himself like a disintegrating star. Tim feels cold and distant for a moment as he watches this shipwreck as though through the porthole of another boat. Listening to Jon’s hitching sobbing from elsewhere.

The rage is burning off him to reveal something plain and hideous in its humanity, and Tim hates it.

Jon falls apart, and Tim stays.

“You know your Archivist killed them all? He’s got a bit of a temper on him after all. Must be all that repression.”

The newest form of the Distortion still smiles like a headache. Her fingers curve corkscrewing. Tim, who is trying to get a Snickers from the vending machine two wards along from Jon, whips his head around to glower at the unwelcome visitor.

“What do you want?”

The Distortion, who has previously called themselves Michael, and is now still Michael but not entirely, whose face has refracted into a different form – there’s been a sort of change in management, if you like, except, well, that’s not really it at all, but do feel free to call me Helen.

“I was hoping for a teeny bit of gratitude. I was the gallant rescue, after that assistant of yours blundered in and made such a pig’s ear of it.”

Tim snarls. The Distortion’s expression wavers displeased.

“Ooh, touchy, alright. Calm down, firecracker. I bought them both back breathing for you. Your Archivist would be still strapped to a chair in Stockport if it wasn’t for me, to say nothing of that woebegone assistant. Blood all over my carpets.”

Tim ignores her. The glint in her eyes suggests she’s disappointed not to have riled him up.

“What now then?”

“Well, you won’t have to worry about the Circus for a while! Dear Jonathan’s seen to that quite splendidly. Knew he had it in him. Although, I suspect, even he didn’t know he could. The Circus was always good at pushing too far.”

“And you. What about you?”

The Distortion’s smile reflects a hundred alternatives.

“Oh, I’m just waiting to see what happens next.”

Tim’s thoughts have been straying to Danny a lot. Naturally, all things considered, his trauma’s head reared high and made horrifically manifest.

Jon is not like Danny was, too stiff and self-conscious in his own bones. But Danny’s skin had been lit up with that same live-wire intensity that last night, smeared in shadows and exhaustion and tears that shone foreign on his cheeks. Tim had not recognised the crying, silent, shaking stranger in his room, just as he barely recognises Jon.

Watching him finally fall apart holds no victory for any of them.

Martin is not like Danny was. Taller, for one, wound-up over tight in his own clockwork of fears. He’d be about Danny’s age though. Maybe.

Danny went back to the Covent Garden Theatre, alone, and the being that had then gone by the name of Joseph Grimaldi had torn off his skin as easily as wrapping paper.

Martin went alone. He didn’t ask Tim for help, because he knew Tim would have said no, and there’s an ashy shame coating his tongue, knowing it would have been true.

It’s powerlessness that’s snarled him up in barbed wire, toothless and immobile. Tim’s felt powerless for a long time. That is not going to stop.

But his anger hasn’t protected him. Hasn’t protected Jon. Certainly hasn’t protected Martin.

Jon is not in bed when Tim goes back during visiting hours. The nurse directs him to another ward, indicating in few words that this jaunt was neither encouraged nor advised, but the patient was not one to be dissuaded.

Sounds like Jon.

The man himself has dressed erratically in the spares Tim bought. A t-shirt that is divorced from his own style, the colouring drawing him over-sallow, the jeans too short and trailing above his ankle. He’s squashed himself into a chair, his back folded like a shepherd’s crook, his scatter-shot energy spent into exhaustion. His hand in Martin’s wrapped one.

Martin’s awake. The ministrations of the Circus left his face mostly alone, clear enough for tubing to be threaded into his nostrils and down his throat but the bandaging is extensive. Tim would have thought he’d be away with the fairies on morphine by now, and rightly so, but his jaw sets imperious when he sees Tim. He doesn’t let go of Jon’s hand.

“You doing alright there, Marto?” Tim asks. There is another chair nearby that’s been left by a visitor long gone, and he drags it over. Tim chooses to keep his voice low, chooses to squash the anger that sparks up in him at the violence done to Martin’s body.

“What does it look like?” Martin replies. Not snapping, no wisp of anger there, but there’s a pained whipcord strain to his response, a forced pace to his breathing.

“I thought they’d have you on the good stuff,” Tim says after a moment.

Martin gestures with imprecise movements at a remote off to his right, a grey blocky shape with buttons, hooked up to some sort of patient-controlled analgesia machine.

“You not taken any?”

Martin, as best as he can, shakes his head.

“Why?”

“I just don’t want to, alright?”

Tim doesn’t push. The silence between the two of them is protracted, uncomfortable, but Tim can stand to learn some patience.

Martin’s eyes are watery, clearly trying to push through the pain. Jon sleeps on.

“He won’t tell me,” Martin says. “But it’s bad. I know it’s bad. Right?”

“Yes.”

Martin deserves his honesty. Tim doesn’t know how long Martin suffered on that factory floor until Jon ripped the Circus’ sawdust out with his fury. Long enough for the bandages to coat his arms and legs and back like lacquer, changed multiple times a day to make sure the skin grafts take, and the stitching holds.

Tim should have been there. Like he should have been there for Danny.

“God, Martin,” he says, and he’s surprised to find his throat has clenched tight. “It’s… I’m so sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? I went and got myself…” Martin trails off, swallows with difficulty. “I did this, it was all, all me. Fat lot of good it did.”

“You don’t know that…” Tim starts, but Martin looks at him and he seethes without raising his voice.

“What good’s come out of this then? Go on, Tim, tell me. I’m a – I’m a mess, and what the fuck do I have to show for it. What the fuck have any of us gained from this? I just fucked up, and it – I thought I was going to die. And worse, I thought they mightn’t let me, that they might take what they left as scraps a-a-and – ” Martin’s jaw clacks shut as he pushes down his distress.

“You saved Jon.”

“I didn’t though. The bloody – the bloody door monster showed up and did that simply fine without my help!”

“You don’t know that. You don’t know what you changed. God, Martin, this whole, this entire thing is all so, it’s fucked, right, it’s…” Tim’s voice wobbles, cracks. “But you tried to do something. You tried to help. And I’m – I’m so sorry you did it alone.”

Martin doesn’t leap to forgiveness. But he nods and Tim puts his hand on the wrappings up his arm and he doesn’t move away.

“What now?” he asks after a moment.

“I don’t know.”

Martin closes his eyes.

“I’m tired,” he confesses. “I’m just so tired of all… all this.”

“We’ll think of something,” Tim says. Finding that he means it. It’s not a promise, but it’s as good as he’s able to offer these days. “You should take some of that morphine. It’ll… it’ll help.”

“It makes me feel out of it. Like, sluggish. And everything’s far away.”

“That means it’s working, Marto,” Tim says, trying for light-hearted, but Martin’s shaking his head, and the shivering is back in his hands. A wide and trembling glaze to his expression.

“If they come back…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence.

“I’ll stay,” Tim says. Pats Martin’s arm in a way he hopes conveys reassurance.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Martin nods. Tim helps him grasp the grey remote, push down the button. It’s not long before Martin’s drifted off.

Tim sits there for a long while, thinking about the future.

#tma #tim stoker #fic #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #cw violence #cw implied torture #cw hospitals #hurt/comfort #the magnus archives

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haunthouse · 5 years ago

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welcome to a meta that, in retrospect, seems glaringly obvious, but that has hit me like a freight train this morning. we’re talking about the lonely as a ghost story.

ghosts as an entity are inherently about disconnect. but kaylee, i hear you say, ghosts are dead people, wouldn’t that make them in the end’s domain? but when it comes down to it, death is a good framing device for ghosts (and yeah, it’s necessary to make ghosts), but people don’t tell ghost stories just because they’re afraid of death. ghost stories are told because ghosts are irrevocably disconnected from the living in a way that terrifies us — sometimes they’re intentionally scary, knocking shit around or yelling boo!, but a lot of the time they’re just... there. and that’s the terrifying part. something that’s there and shouldn’t be; something that can’t interact with the world around it and is completely, utterly, terrifyingly alone.

ghost stories are about isolation, about being a person without any of the framework that being a person requires, without society or connection or love. being unseen and unheard and unknown to all around you — and trying so hard to reverse all those un-words, to be seen, heard, known. that’s exactly the domain of the lonely!

and onto the meat of this meta: all nine lonely-centric statements (and the journey of one martin blackwood) through the lens of ghost stories.

(spoilers for mag170 at the end, but each episode section is clearly marked, so feel free to skip it if you haven’t gotten that far yet!)

MAG013: ALONE

the first lonely statement we get (and also the first in-person statement! which is such a good inversion of the lonely being about lack of connection! jon doesn’t do a great job of comforting naomi, but he does stay with her as she gives the statement when she asks!! that’s beside the point but it is something i really love), and right off the bat, the ghost vibes are off the charts.

truly i am feeling absolutely idiotic for not really thinking about the ghosts-lonely connection before now because this statement? peak ghost story.

naomi’s fiance dies. naomi has several near-death experiences (crashes her car, then is hit by another car and winds up in the hospital), which is also a staple in a lot of ghost stories; nearly dying is set up as a way to get the living closer to the realm of ghosts, able to interact with them more clearly. it was a dark and foggy night in a graveyard, and standing at evan’s (open, empty) grave, naomi hears his disembodied voice leading her home.

when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night. but when they’re told by someone close to the now-ghost, they’re love stories. it’s my grandmother hearing her father’s breathing one last time after his death, giving her a chance to say goodbye. it’s a familiar and loving presence, comforting you. that’s what naomi’s story is — the ghost of evan showing his love for her one final time.

MAG033: BOATSWAIN’S CALL

so, ships are meant to be places of community, right? ron @gerrydelano has a really good post about this regarding shanties. but ghost ships are an established trope of ghost stories: the inversion of what a ship should be, lacking all life and community, silently traversing the waters on its own.

the tundra is a ghost ship. it’s quiet (”very quiet... it was like they were doing everything in their power not to think about each other”) — the people there move around one another as if none of them are there, all so taken by the lonely. their cargo containers are empty. all they’re transporting on that ship is the ghosts of those aboard.

this episode falls into the trope of ghosts want the living to join them — though there’s still a mourning atmosphere when sean kelly is taken fully by the lonely, that final bit of life on the ship extinguished. (”no one said a word, but i could have sworn a few of my shipmates were crying.”)

MAG048: LOST IN THE CROWD

this one’s one of my favorites! andrea nunis’ statement deals with different kinds of loneliness — she begins it with explaining that she prefers to travel alone, but later, that loneliness is something terrifying. she’s in a crowd of unrecognizable people, unable to fit herself into the world she’s seeing — she’s completely separate from the rest of the world. she’s a ghost.

“it wasn’t italian being spoken ... or any other language i recognized. the more i listened, the more i realized it wasn’t a language. there were no words, it was just noise.” “their faces were a blur, each and every one of them.” and, the crowning point: “i tried to talk to them or to shout, to scream at them, but there was no reaction.”

by being taken in by the lonely, andrea’s been turned into a ghost. she cannot interact with or even recognize her environment, and that’s the real horror — it isn’t just being alone, it’s being surrounded by something that should be familiar; a crowd is something she’s been in a thousand times, as someone who travels a lot, and people are the most familiar thing in the world, like looking in a mirror! but it isn’t. everything is strange and she is outside of it all and that’s what a ghost is.

and her connection to her mother is what pulls her out. people have talked at length about how love is the antidote to the lonely so i won’t go on too long about that, but the connection between that & ghosts’ relationships to the living often being what keeps them around is sure something.

also, after getting out of the lonely andrea says “i made sure i was always in sight of at least one other person” — and there’s something to be said there about needing to be seen to be real.

chiara @red-reys brought up this feuerbach quote which fits very well: “that which i alone perceive i doubt; only that which the other also perceives is certain.” being the only one to perceive something (for example, a ghost), or the only one who is utterly unperceived, is a very lonely thing — it isolates you entirely from those who do not perceive it. being perceived, or having someone else see what you see, can give you an anchor.

wow i’m sure that won’t come back later!

also, far be it from me to talk about this statement without mentioning gerry keay. because it means something that he’s the one to give andrea the tools she needs to pull herself out of the lonely. gerry is someone completely lacking in human connection, who is literally haunted by the ghost of his mother and later is seen as a ghost himself. gerry doesn’t have friends; he tells jon “i always wanted my friends to call me gerry,” but in a tone that makes it clear he didn’t have anyone who could’ve. and of course he didn’t. a life so entwined with the entities and cut so short, a life so ruled by the cruelty of others that he certainly did not want to rope anyone else into.

though gerry’s never directly stated to be affected by the lonely, he’s certainly lowercase-L lonely at the very least, and he’s certainly got enough experience with ghosts to understand the lonely.

gerry is the trope of the helpful spirit. he’s the ghost who’ll give you directions on a deserted road and disappear when you turn around. he gives jon the information he needs to understand the entities, he gives andrea the information she needs to not become a ghost.

MAG057: PERSONAL SPACE

alright so this one is, admittedly, more cosmic horror than anything else, but if y’all’ve seen any of my comics you probably know i’m very passionate about space ghosts & haunted spaceships. and as such, i’m extremely interested in how the daedalus mission echoes ghost stories.

carter chilcott’s story pretty directly acts as a ghost story — unable to communicate with the others on the ship even when he tries, unable to interact with the world to the point of looking out the window at one point to find the world entirely missing. this is all stuff i’ve said already about the other statements, so i’m glossing past it, because what interests me more is the daedalus as malicious architecture.

because the daedalus was created specifically for this union between vast, lonely, and dark (all of which i think have significant ghostly tie-ins). everything about how the ship itself and the mission came to be is a mystery, even to those involved — manuela says “i don’t know how he convinced the lukases and fairchilds to help finance the project,” “i don’t know if they were working on rituals of their own,” “exactly how the launch was arranged, i couldn’t tell you.”

a piece of the traditional haunted house is a sort of timelessness, and mystery inherent in its building. hill house in shirley jackson’s haunting of hill house “seemed somehow to have formed itself, flying together into its own powerful pattern under the hands of its builders... it was a house without kindness, never meant to be lived in, not a place fit for people or for love or for hope.” the oldest house in the game control is malicious architecture at its finest, and it’s called the oldest house. it predates people. it exists as a giant piece of brutalist architecture smack dab in the middle of new york, but no one knows why or how it came to be. as a real-world example: the winchester mystery house is wrapped up in mythos about its creation. was sarah winchester just a lonely old woman with a hobby for architectural design, or did she create endlessly spiraling staircases and doorways with a steep drop into the yard to keep ghosts away? who knows! we sure do like to speculate, though.

yes, i’ve talked about this in tma metas before. highly recommend jacob geller’s control, anatomy, and the legacy of the haunted house for more of this content.

even manuela dominguez, the only person on the daedalus mission who actually knew what she was doing and wasn’t just there to be a victim of entities they did not understand, does not know how the mission came to be.

and the entire purpose of this spacecraft is to be malicious to its inhabitants! the very architecture is meant to make the people within into perfect snacks for their respective entities! the station is cramped (”so cramped that i could only fully stretch out in the section used to exercise,” says jan kilbride), but when the vast takes hold it’s suddenly endless — “a hollow pretense of a shell that did nothing to separate me from the void.” (cue me shouting about how much trust we put in the places we live, and whether or not that trust is warranted, how easily it can be turned against us!)

a few other bits of this statement that really echo ghost stories: “twice i was woken up by the sound of the door opening, only to find it as tight as it had ever been. throughout the daytime i would occasionally hear footsteps, which shouldn’t even have been possible in zero gravity.” and then the empty, ghostly spacesuit that floats past chilcott’s window — there are so many stories about disembodied wedding dresses or mourningwear walking the halls silently, so why not a spacesuit?

i started this section saying this statement was more cosmic horror than ghost story but i’m finishing it by saying this is actually one of the clearest representations of haunted architecture in the whole podcast. (other examples off the top of my head include upon the stair & a cosy cabin, the latter of which i actually already wrote a meta about.)

MAG092: NOTHING BESIDE REMAINS

the moment i started thinking about the lonely-ghosts connection i remembered this episode, because it’s so clear. complete disconnect, existing entirely alone in a shadow of the world you once knew, unable to interact with the living in any way.

very small bit but. “as the cab pulled away, it seemed to have no driver that i could discern” vs the theme of ghost carriages in older ghost stories. i am looking directly at it.

barnabas bennett can “almost think i hear the mocking joy of my friends, but there is nobody here.” he can see evidence that life continues around him, unseen — “i know that what is done by those i cannot see might be felt here — i have found glasses broken and pages torn that were not so the night before.” just as a ghost is unseen to the living, the reverse is true: bennett can see others having an impact on the world in small ways, and his letter is found by jonah, but he can’t really affect the world in any real way.

MAG108: MONOLOGUE

this one is so exciting to me because theater ghosts are a huge trope in ghost stories! theater people are some of the most superstitious people you’ll ever meet! especially regarding ghosts having an impact on their shows — there’s the superstition regarding The Scottish Play™, the tradition of leaving a ghost light on onstage to appease the spirits. there’s that time all the kids in my production of brigadoon when i was in middle school circled around the makeup mirrors to play bloody mary and got thoroughly chewed out by the adults in the cast. theater’s full’a ghosts!

(i think it’s something about the intense amounts of history behind it — and how, in playing a part that a thousand people have played before, you’re echoing their exact words, becoming a repetition of those long gone. and on a stage, blinding lights in your face washing out any view of the audience — you could, technically, leave the stage and interact with the people down there, but it seems pretty entirely impossible when you’re up there. you’re being perceived but can’t see in return. you’re essentially a ghost putting on a show for the living on a loop.)

the statement-giver for this one, adonis biros, echoes a lot of those sentiments, actually. “your words heard by no one — and in that no one, an entire universe.” “have you ever had stage lights in your eyes? ...you can look out into the audience and see nothing at all. just you.”

i said before that “when ghost stories are told from a distance, they’re about the horror of it — disembodied howling, faces in the window that keep you up at night.” the disconnect between the anonymous audience and the singular actor onstage makes the distance here extreme — so this is the sort of ghost story that’s unquestionably a horror story, focusing on the most chilling aspects of ghosts. their inhumanity, their anonymity. the theater masks adonis sees in the audience are “empty. it was a hollow shape of a man that had no life, no presence to it.” even adonis himself says he “had no doubt that what i had seen was some sort of specter or omen.”

he sees a “masked mockery of a human figure” in a window while walking at night. ghosts looking through windows is enough of a trope that once, when i went on a ghost tour in williamsburg, at least half the stories were about people seeing ghostly faces in windows, and i completely freaked out when i saw someone moving around in one of the houses before realizing, oh, some of them are still actually occupied.

this one’s undoubtably a collaboration between stranger and lonely, but i think that intersection’s one of the best for ghost stories — something not-quite-human-anymore, if it ever was, haunting you.

MAG150: CUL-DE-SAC

a lot of the bare bones of this statement are things i’ve already covered, so i’m not gonna go too in-depth on it. herman gorgoli’s statement is about disconnect (from alberto, and then from the rest of humanity), about isolation, about houses-gone-wrong (his and alberto’s house in cheadle, which he views by the end as a place imprisoning him, and the titular cul-de-sac).

we’ve seen the malicious architecture trope in the form of the daedalus already, but this time it’s on earth. it’s something that should, by all rights, be familiar. the houses in the suburbs are all the same, but it’s at least a sameness you know. but they’re all bereft of any irregularities, ghostly echoes of what a house should be.”there were no lights on in any of the houses.” he even finds a dead body in one of the houses — but the woman who’s body he finds is not the one haunting them.

it’s herman haunting the neighborhood, until his love for alberto brings him out. herman making his way through houses he cannot interact with in any meaningful way, whos details he cannot interpret. “how many corpses lay waiting behind the placid facade of this endless false suburbia?” he wonders, and i have to imagine he’s also wondering if he’s already joined their ranks, if he’s the haunting in a haunted house.

and connection brings him back and the houses are no longer empty, no longer waiting for a ghost to take resident in their hallways.

MAG159: THE LAST (& martin’s journey in season four, generally)

we’ve all analyzed 159 within an inch of its life but i’m here to do it again, with the context of martin’s whole journey into the lonely. because the lonely turns people into ghosts. the lonely takes away humanity and life and leaves a hollow echo in its wake.

literally the powers lonely avatars have involve turning invisible. what else is often associated with invisibility? ghosts. checkmate. i’m running out of steam a bit but i swear these are good points i’m making. trust me.

what makes ghost stories so good is that even if the narrator is not a ghost themselves, just experiencing a ghost puts them at a fundamental disconnect from society. it’s something disbelieved by so many people. (there’s parallels to be made with mental illness here, but i... don’t really feel like making them right now. they’re definitely there, as is the very potent lonely-depression connection that made ep170 hit so hard for so many of us.) in hill house, the more eleanor is wrapped up in the goings-on of the house, the less she’s able to relate to the other people there. the closer martin becomes to the lonely, the less he’s able to talk to the people around him — he’s told not to talk to them by lukas, but he’s also just... unable to relate. their experiences are different than his, at this point.

nicole @brunetteauthorette99 said something really good in our conversation about this, about ghosts “being stuck in... spaces that have moved on without them, reenacting their defining moments in life over and over again without the possibility of change.”

martin is stuck in the institute. he probably has an apartment, but we don’t see it, and i can’t imagine he as he is by season four has put much effort into decorating it or making it feel like a home. every place is impersonal — somewhere he exists without really living.

and the institute moves on without him. jon goes into the coffin and martin doesn’t know until he’s already in there. and martin can impact his environment only in small ways — leaving tape recorders on the coffin in an attempt to anchor jon home, leaving the tape of jon’s victim for melanie, basira, and daisy to find. he will not or cannot speak to or touch other living beings, just move objects around in a desperate attempt to get a message across, a ouija board of tapes and post-it notes. his moment of rejecting the lonely’s plans in 158 is dropping the knife peter has given him — another expression more through his interactions with his environment than any human connection.

martin says the lonely always had him, and with how much his story revolves around people who may as well be ghosts, that’s true. his father disappeared and left only the image martin had of him in his mind, only the echo he himself provided in the mirror, the ghost of someone who hurt him overlaid on his own reflection. his mother was only present so far as she could be malicious, disapproving; a vengeful ghost, taking out the revenging instinct she had for martin’s father on martin. and then everyone else martin cares about dies — sasha’s gone and not!sasha acts as her malicious echo for a while; tim dies; jon dies. and yeah, he comes back — but he’s different. a ghost of sorts. martin’s already pretty ghostly by then, too.

so martin is, essentially, a ghost throughout season four, and probably beforehand, as well. jon literally! asks martin! if he is a ghost! in season one! which brings us to 159: “are you real?” martin asks the first living person he’s really talked to in who-knows-how-long. because martin doesn’t feel real, so how could anyone else be? “nothing hurts here” may be a contradiction of the literal experience of ghosts we see in tma (gerry saying “it hurts, being like this”), but is a very real perception of ghosts in ghost mythology as beings beyond pain, beyond the suffering of being alive. sometimes they exist to cause others that suffering they can no longer feel, but a lot of the time, they’re just melancholy, having forgotten what it’s like to be a person or hanging on just enough to yearn to return to that feeling of life.

“i’m the reason he... i did this to him as much as you,” jon says. in ghost terms: martin died for him. of course his connection to jon, then, would be the only thing able to bring him back.

mag159 is an orpheus/eurydice story — people have made posts about that before, i’m sure, and i have too, how jon and martin invert the orpheus archetype by being saved rather than damned by the act of sight. and it feels obvious to state it, but for clarity: eurydice dies. orpheus, alive, tries to save eurydice from the underworld, where she is a spirit, a ghost, an echo of herself.

MAG170: RECOLLECTION — (SPOILER WARNING!)

this episode is the reason i’m making this post, but i may as well copy-and-paste the entire transcript for this section, because there is truly not a single part of it that doesn’t resonate as a ghost story.

the lonely house as a malicious location. the chairs are all uncomfortable, the house is large enough that just by wandering it (as a ghost might) martin grows tired enough to sit in them regardless. the decorations are wrong — all the rooms are the same and martin doesn’t like it, said he doesn’t know “why i’d decorate my house like this.”

it isn’t a small house. there’s a reason a lot of ghost stories take place in twisting mansions where you can never quite find your way back to where you started. ghost stories thrive on that isolation, that loneliness — if you see a ghost while you’re alone, are you sure you’ll be believed? doesn’t that just isolate you further? architecture can twist around those within it until they’re trapped, doomed to haunt it themselves. “it's such a - such a big house, my house, there must be other people!” martin says.

but the only others in the house are ghosts like martin.

“hundreds, thousands of lost souls, wandering the halls. hollow memories, with eyes full of tears. i’ve seen them. they’re all trying to remember.”

“i found someone else, wandering around. they were all thin and gray. faded. like they’d been here for ages.”

the ghosts cannot remember their names, why they are there, whether or not it is their house they exist in. they’ve become near-inseparable from the fog around them and the architecture that holds them hostage.

and the house itself, it takes all of that, and its quirks — the size, the chairs, the decorations, all of which martin openly does not like — are all made from the people haunting it. the house is wrong because the people within it can no longer change it. martin’s comment on the decorations sticks with me because it’s such a simple example of this: presumably, he could affect the house in some way in the past, but he no longer can, and he’s stuck with the results of his past mistakes, echoing over and over from room to room. the impacts remain even when the people have faded so far as to be practically nonexistent.

and once again: love is what makes him remember, over and over. he remembers jon, and then the lonely steals that memory — but the remembering is what’s important, because the act of loving anchors martin, and it helps him remember who he is, repeating his name over and over.

ghosts lack identity. whether it’s because they’ve been forgotten by all who knew them in life, whether it’s because it’s too painful to hold onto that when they can no longer do anything with it — we assign names to ghost stories, connect them to the living, but there’s always a disconnect there.

and that’s what helps jon find him, helps martin keep himself from fading out again. and even jon says “you were faint” upon finding martin. martin was a ghost haunting that house.

but not anymore.

the lonely is a ghost story. the lonely is about people who’ve become unmoored from human connection and their own identities, who haunt places, or who’ve been lured into places that are hauntings in and of themselves and have no choice but to take up residence as ghosts within those walls.

and ghost stories, often, are love stories. love keeps us tethered to life, and love is what saves people from the lonely, over and over again.

#the magnus archives #tma meta #martin blackwood #the lonely #mag170 #kaylee.txt #kaylee.meta #dfgkjngfd HELLO i didn't mean for this to get quite so long but ty if anyone actually reads it!!!!#this is longer than most fics i write. whoops.

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roccinan · 3 years ago

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7, 11, 12 for your writing ask meme, please ✏

Hello AO3 user dashwood!! Thanks so much for the ask :D

Writer Ask Meme

7. Favorite/most inspirational book?

Ohh, this is a hard one! I definitely have more than one favorite/inspirational book, but I'd say my favorite book of all time is The Little Prince. Not sure if it's much of an influence on my own writing, but I hope it's influenced me as a person. Another favorite is Jhumpa Lahiri's Interpreter of Maladies- every single story in that collection destroys me every time I look at them. My absolute favorites in the collection were "A Temporary Matter" and "Sexy."

11. What are you planning to work on next?

My secret santa project ;) Other than that, there are 2 stories I have in mind (that knowing me, I might set aside and pull out another WIP or something else entirely asdasdf). On the Gen side, it will either be the sequel to "Hermanito" or a story that will unironically use the... drumroll... "Tokyo & Berlin" tag HAHAHA, a tale of forced quality time. On the berlermo side, I'm itching to write a long fic, something that runs for more than 10 chapters instead of my typical 4/5, so a sort of "novel." It's hard to describe, but I will say that the prologue is set in a fantasy medieval AU, and the rest of the story is in the present with some fantasy elements. It will involve reincarnation and the soulmates trope, and maybe some inspiration from Goblin.

So I'll either be working on the above or something Martin-centric.

12. Which story of yours do you like best? why?

To be perfectly honest, it's Dies Irae! And there were a number of reasons why. It was actually the one of the very first lcdp fic ideas I ever had, but I kept scrapping it because I thought it was too much of an AU and that nobody would read it. But the fandom seemed very friendly towards AUs, and I couldn't stop thinking about it so I decided to write it anyway and just focus it on Andres/berlermo.

Another reason it's one of my favorites was because it's the first story that really made me think about Andres' life in its own context, something that centered him instead of Martin (who I usually put at the focus of my berlermo stories before Dies Irae). It was a "world" that began and ended with him, and before that, I always thought of Andres as a character that the narrative- canon or otherwise- needed to leave behind in order for the living to move forward. It might sound silly, but writing this story convinced me that he shouldn't just be left behind like that, if that makes any sense lol.

It was also the first time I wrote the brothers using the "same father" headcanon. I got to play around with building my own world in this AU, its little "lore," and experiment with the writing. I wrote the whole thing from Tatiana's POV, and I actually had a blast doing it. Plus, I got to turn her into a talking cat, and that's been one of my proudest achievements LOL.

It was also the first (and last?) straightforward tragedy I wrote for these characters. So I put a lot of emotion into it, and there was even a part that made me surprisingly Sad to reread even though I wrote it asdfadf and it was very cathartic to complete.

#sorrydearie #writer meme #thank you again for the ask!!#hope my answers made sense :D

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callmearcturus · 4 years ago

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hi! i’m a big fan of dustsceawung and i completely understand if you leave it be as it is, bc what you have out there is already rly beautiful and enjoyable. that said i hope someday u do continue it, i understand wanting to meet ppl’s expectations but honestly you’ve created a really interesting setting with super cool lore that i think a lot of readers (like myself) would be genuinely interested in even small drabbles or other content that isn’t necessarily a big next step in the plot. (1/2)

i hope this doesn’t come off as pressurey in any way i just want to say that i would love to see more and how ever you approach that will be satisfying to readers bc ur writing style is v good and regardless if the plot is perfect and majorly impactful you’ve created an excellent piece of writing either way :) and ofc it’s totally ok if u decide to move on from it too, like i said what it already is is something really wonderful. anyway have a good day <3 (2/2)

I’ll keep that in mind. At this point I just don’t know what to do with it. The plot I outlined for the backhalf just.... doesn’t sound fun? The basic idea, which was foreshadowed already, was Martin being summoned to meet the head of the local court, Elias, and having to use all of his wits and faerie-centric paranoia to get out. But for some reason, my desire to write that is currently very low. 8\

So much of dustsceawung was like a balm for the horrors of 2020 honestly. Something gentle and soft and unfurling. At the moment, I’m happy that as it stands, it’s a fairly ‘complete’ arc, barring the unfulfilled foreshadowing. Don’t know what to do next. 8/

#dust au #Anonymous

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pensivetense · 4 years ago

Text

A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

#tma #the magnus archives #fic recs #long post #i'm not kidding you guys it's long #so be warned before you click read more #pinned on my blog

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polar-stars · 5 years ago

Note

Hey I'm kinda dry on ideas so can you please give me ideas for a SNS AMV please?

:0?

Oh, that’s an unique question :000 But, sure...I can try. I gotta say in advance though that I’ve never been that big of a source for music ovo;; I’m kinda one of these people who listens to the same 20 songs in a row for 3 months and then discovers one new one to add to the list.

If anyone comes along this post and has more ideas, feel free to add them ;w;

General Songs, that I’d say might be fun to experiment editing with:

- Panic! At the Disco, I’d say has quite some AMV-Worthy songs in their repertoire :0 Like ngl, whenever I listen to their song “Victorious” I actually picture an AMV for a specific Shokugeki-Match that will take place in the future of my Next Gen Fanfic whooPS ahdshdh (Yeah, I’m an absolute nerd. You’re free to laugh) But I mean there’s also “Don’t Threaten Me With a Good Time” which SLAPS

- Songs by Fall Out Boy also tend to be used for AMVs from what I’ve seen :0 “Phoenix” is one that comes into my mind that could be used well for an AMV

- It’s not by Fall Out Boy as a band but the singer participated in it...but yeah “Summer Days” by Martin Garrix was my number one summer song last year’s summer and I like it a lot and I have a feeling it could do well as AMV

- Little Mix is also? Kind of a good source for AMVs I’d say? Like “Salute” or “That’s My Girl” are songs that would come into my mind (Those work for Girl-Power AMVs)

- There’s also this band(?) Cash-Cash that makes HELLA catchy songs. Like HELLY CATCHY songs. Which I’ve seen used for AMVs multiple times already. A lot of their texts are on the more NSFW-Side though so ovo;;; Like especially “Sexin’ On The Dancefloor” (The title alone, duh) but ahdh it’s so damn catchy and I love it being perfectly honest. But yeah that one’s text-wise more on the dirty side but I’ve seen it being used for AMVs already

- “Him & I” is a song that I just like a lot, so in case you find any use for that I’d stan that. But I can’t come up with one myself ahdhd I’m sorry

- I used “Remember Me” by Ivan Torrent for an AMV with a Fantasy-Tone once and that was really enjoyable to me :0 Maybe for inspiration search up songs that go into that direction? A start would be “Kings and Queens and Vagabonds” by Ellem

- I have a soft spot for Lana del Rey songs if you’re in the mood for something slow. “Video Games” is pretty beautiful.

- “Dusk Till Dawn” by ZAYN and Sia is also a song I high-key enjoy and it might be usable for AMVs as well

Uh, to be a bit more specific maybe?

- You know, Totsuki is this really high-class academy full of rich kids right? Honestly...”Beautiful, Dirty, Rich” by Lady Gaga might be a choice for like....A Totsuki-Centric AMV(?) (Personally, it always makes me think of the 114th Gen of my Next Gen in specific but shUT UP LEA.......Okay but really the 114th Gen’s Theme song is “Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time” don’t @ me)

- “Money Honey” by Lady Gaga for EtsuNe, okay no...that’s a joke AHDHDS but really, I would laugh

- “Halo” by Beyoncé personally makes me think of SoRina....

- Maybe “Freaking Me Out” for SoRina as well

- Maybe “Prom Queen” by Molly Kate Kestner for a angsty Erina AMV? Maybe?? (I don’t know how angst works)

- I didn’t add it to my playlist back then but like “She’s Got That Light” by Orange Blue always makes me think of MarYu

- “Lighthouse” by G.R.L for EiRin....maybe? Or “Honeybee” by The Heard and the Heart

- My best friend once asked me for a joke-AMV of “7 rings” for Eizan. I refused to do this up to this point. But like....if anyone else wants to do this fucking request which only my best friend could give-

- The “Your Song” cover by Ellie Golding for TakuMegu perhaps? I think that could be cute 🤷🏻‍♀️

- uh....idk “Lover” by Taylor Swift for RyoAli or smth....I’m running out of ideas at this point. I’ve been scrolling up and down my Spotify Playlists for nearly a hour now or “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor for EtsuNe because I associate that song with them now after having played it 3 times when drawing them

- Okay last one but “Crazy in Love” by Sofia Karlberg makes me think of multiple ships actually so I’ll just leave it here ovo I can’t believe I’m ending this with a song from “Fifty Shades of Grey”

EDIT: “Point of no Return” by Starset for the RDC, “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing” by Set it Off for the Central Elites added by @blas-i-us and welp “Rotten to the Core” from the movie Descendants added last minute by moi

THIS

WAS

A CHALLENGE

But I hope it was at least a little helpful

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airshipvalentine · 5 years ago

Note

hellllo friendo!! was wondering what your favorite like. comfort fics are or even just ur favorite fics period because i rllllly want to read some but i haven't had the patience to read though mediocre fics recently so! just wondering :)

hi leo!! i hope you’re doing well :)))

ok in general i save fics i really like to my bookmarks (+ usually tag my faves) tho i can’t assure my taste is always impeccable haha

but here are some good ones. kind of a mishmash of fandoms, check out what calls to you :)

this made me reread a whole lot of good stuff! thanks for sending this. also feel free to tell me what you think if you read any of em!

(also may i suggest watching the national theatre’s production of twelfth night? i think you’d enjoy it. anyway)

hopeless - TMA fic! set s1-ish. martin gets a crush. its adorable.

black-clad bats and making money - based off this tumblr post–– basically, john mulaney-style riddler. very fun read, no prior batman knowledge required

phoenix wright comes of age - a sort of character study of phoenix realizing he's bi... makes me feel things

for a higher love - a king falls am fic about sammy and ron and solidarity that comes with being the few queer people in a small town... warm fuzzies

put your guns away, it’s tea time - okay i know the cursed child was pretty bad. but personally i really really liked the characters. this is scorpius/albus and it’s just... so cute. its a wonderful mix of summer and family shenanigans and awkward romance and UGH. i love it. i really do.

how to date a superhero - based off of this tumblr post. secret identity shenanigans are my WEAKNESS okay??? there's a lot of characters & it might be weird without prior knowledge of the batfam? i dunno. i really like it

i’ll tabletop you any day - sokka/zuko coffee shop au. what more can i say

there’s no telling where we’re going, or how we got here at all - THE STERN/BARCLAY ROMANCE WE DESERVED. so funny. full of heart. liberal use of footnotes a la terry pratchett. i love it so much

always glad you came - teenage spideytorch! minimal knowledge of spider-man and fantastic four required. really just gotta know that they exist. i love this one a lot

bless this mess and call it a home - nurseydex. dex can talk to houses. it’s not as weird as it sounds. very cute

it comes and goes in waves - batfam fic, no capes au. combines things that i, personally like- batfam siblings bonding, colin wilkes, and lgbt themes. damian tries to come out to his siblings. minimal knowledge of batfam needed, just that damian has a lot of siblings

defrosting - jacoffel, daemon au. written by the same minds from that one fantasy au!

columbiformes - spiderverse genfic!! miles befriends some pigeons

herbalism - chilling adventures of sabrina, harvey/sabrina/nick. *chefs kiss*. excellent polyamory & bisexuality

Oh, So You Can Carry The Ring To Mordor But You Can't Carry Your Best Friend-Slash-Obvious Love Interest Down The Road To The Corner Shop? How Very Convenient For You. - ok i cant type this one out in lowercase no matter WHAT my brand is. dirk gently’s holistic detective agency! dirk discovers piggyback rides, todd isn't always amused

woodstock 83 - x-men movies genfic! pietro has no idea how to tell magneto that he is his son.

all we see is sky - tragically unfinished but excellent post-canon kleinsen fic

these are all real fluffy but here's some more serious fics i still love

nests and cages - batfam, 99% gen. jason todd-centric, delves into the backstory we could have had.

two truths and a lie/donut siblings - red vs blue, gen-focused. wash and donut are siblings! shenanigans(?) ensue.

the balance book - until dawn, mostly gen. post-game, josh is recovered and has to make amends with uhhhhh everyone. quality friendship, and i really like the narration voice. could probably work without prior knowledge of ut honestly. highly reccomend

xbox, hash browns, and other necessities - wolf-359 post-finale fic.

#ask #yearning-hours #yeehaw hope you enjoy!#fic rec

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theclearblues · 6 years ago

Text

Hades | Chapter 7 | Tom Holland

Pairing: Tom Holland x Fem!Reader (mob!tom au)

Word Count: 940 (short i apologize)

Warnings: Mentions of hospital

Notes: hello yes i posted this on wattpad a while ago and i totally forgot to put it on here. chapter 8 is in the works ;) ALSO someone talk to me I need friends and I’m always bored

Sorry if the read more tab doesn’t work on mobile.

previous / next

Tom had the surgery, it was successful. Now they just had to wait for him to wake up, if he woke up.

The surgeon that Y/N met with said it could be anywhere from three to twelve hours until he woke up. "Don't panic if he's not awake by midnight, his body has gone through a lot of trauma."

Y/N nodded and hoped it wouldn't end in her worrying about him.

Honestly, she was puzzled as to why she would even be worrying about him in the first place. It's Tom, Tom Holland. He's the invincible mafia god, the one who pulls through it all. He's got people waiting for his order, waiting to protect him from anything.

"Except this." she thought as she walked into his private room.

His face was still littered in purple bruises, now just a deeper shade and less blood. His hands now clean, laid at his sides. He was having trouble breathing on his own with so many internal injuries and so a machine helped his chest rise and fall. Tom looked as peaceful as he'd ever looked, but still his face was stern. It was like he had molded it to stay so.

The silence in the room was disrupted by the rhythmic beeping of the monitor to his left. Short spikes showed in a regular pattern on the little blue line. The almost mechanical beeping reassured her, he was here, he was alive.

She stood in the doorway leaning on the frame and watched him. After half an hour she left the hospital.

She got a bus to Nova, and went straight to the brothel.

She went to every door in the building and knocked. Each time she relayed the same message:

"He's gone. You're free to go. There is a woman's shelter four blocks west of here."

Then she left, and took another bus to the area in which Jacob lived.

"Give me any of Martin's accomplices. Anyone he not have worked with, done business with."

"Okay, just give me some time. Do you still want the blackmail stuff on him?"

"I don't want to wait around, Jacob, let's fucking go." her voice was cold and hard, "I don't need the blackmail. He's in custody right now but he won't see the weekend."

Jacob nodded and continued tapping away at his computer.

While she waited impatiently, Y/N called Harrison.

"Harrison, Tom is at the hospital. He hasn't woken up yet. Martin is in custody, and I'm getting Jacob to find out any of his business partners and those that were interested in taking down the Holland's."

"I know he is, and I know that too. For fuck's sake do you really think I let Tom fuck around Britain without knowing what he's doing all the time."

He hung up.

***

Even with Martin being held in custody, it seemed that unknown threats still haunted her presence. With Tom still recovering from surgery, they were so much more obvious.

Y/N was being targeted, and without Tom around her the enemy believed she was isolated. As she stepped out of Jacob's house she knew something was wrong.

Y/N walked casually down the road, aiming towards the main street where she'd be harder to track. She picked up her pace as she neared the bustling street, behind her a man clad in black followed.

After a few meters, she looked back and the man was gone. She didn't know where to go, nowhere felt safe. She thought of going back and waiting for Tom, but it felt out of place for her to sit and wait, it should be Harrison that he wakes up to.

Knowing that she shouldn't walk aimlessly around London, Y/N knew she had to find a car and quickly. On the side of the street ahead, an old civic sat parked. She jogged over and noticed the lock on the door handle. She often didn't wear bobby pins in her hair, but thankfully she found one stuck in the bottom of her pocket.

As the lock popped open she hopped in the car, and sped off through the city, not knowing where she was going.

While she drove she thought of Rob Martin, he wasn't that organized. His entire plan arose from the death of his father, whom he blamed the Holland's for. But why now? Was it because he saw the opportunity when she was fighting off Ben? Did he set it all up? If Martin did organize the entire situation, it was unlikely. He was not that smart, and now that she thought about it, Rob had trouble using computers. He was always asking for help when he had to log in hours, so how was he able to send pictures to Tom's encrypted computer? How was he able to get access to a machine gun? And on his salary?

Suddenly, it occurred to Y/N that Martin was not the head of the threat. There was someone, or something else, aiding Martin for their own benefit. It was something powerful, rich, and intelligent. Who of Tom's many enemies would use such a personal attack?

She thought of driving to Tom, but he would still be sleeping. Instead, Y/N drove to the Holland Estate, hoping to find Harrison and some answers.

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gin-ursur · 5 years ago

Text

band of brothers fic rec (ft. the pacific)

nobody asked for this is a self indulgent list because this fandom has a lot of quality works that deserve recognition:

Easy’s Omega by GGCharms

Omega Eugene Roe is assigned to be a medic to the 506th Infantry Regiment's only all Alpha company, Easy Company. Watch as he earns his place among them, becomes pack, and (unintentionally) finds his Alpha and a family.

[unfinished / abo / baberoe / doc roe centric]

Doc Roe is the soul omega in a company made up predominantly of alpha’s and beta’s, in a world where omega’s serving in the military is still a very new concept. And I think the study into that is really interesting, there aren’t enough good historical abo’s set during the early to mid 1900s.

letters between continents by aliaaaaaa

Shelton and Roe sharing their worries, anxieties, hopes, and dreams in a series of letters throughout the war.

[bob-pacific crossover / sledgefu / baberoe / snafroe friendship]

Really good angsty cajun boy’s writing correspondence throughout their individual war’s. The prospect of doc and snafu being either close friends or cousins is a favorite headcanon of mine.

catch it down in new orleans by starblessed

Gene’s not sure what he regrets more – inviting Babe down to Louisiana for the week while his cousin is also visiting, or saying it was fine if Babe brought his friends with him.

Merriell is the last person Gene wants in the house when his boyfriend and his friends show up. But, well, it’s not like he can kick his cousin out. It seems like the only option for Babe and his posse is just to learn to live with him.

Not if Gene can help it.

[bob-pacific crossover / sledgefu / baberoe / they’re cousins this time]

Cajun cousins do it best. Big family values down on the bayou.

Delivered as a Whisper by mytimehaspassed

They work nights, work bars and corners and alleyways and pool halls and night clubs.

[baberoe / snafroe / sledgefu / murder mystery]

A Softer War by twelve_pastels

In 1945, Edward Heffron comes home from War. In 1951, Babe punches a guy through a plate glass window, loses half his tastebuds, flees from alligators, and moves in with a doctor. All of these things are related.

[babe centric / baberoe / post-war]

Babe after the war, a really good study into veterans and PTSD. Definitely one of my favorite BoB fics ever.

Center Stone alyseofwonderland (Esyla), Esyla

They are the same, at their centers, at their cores. Ronald Speirs has a center of stone and Eugene knows exactly what that feels like.

[speirsroe / magical realism]

Rarepair that deserves more. I think this author really captures their characters, as well as a presumed relationship dynamic.

and what you've got is magic by cptnwinters

The day Babe Heffron meets Eugene Roe, he falls through a compartment door on the Hogwarts Express straight into Eugene’s lap. It’s (unfortunately) not the only time it happens.

Or: The Hogwarts AU.

[baberoe / harry potter fusion]

Just a really sweet Hogwarts AU.

Follow My Lead by Emono

George just never thought he’d meet a Sex God at his great-grandfather’s deli.

---

“Who the fuck says ‘going steady’ anymore?”

[toyeluz / meet-cute}

Romance? In my deli?

Grass Knuckles Series by Emono

Please just read this entire series it’s so sweet.

Old Familiar Places by ama

George's relationship with Joe Toye wasn't exactly normal, or always happy, or easy to maintain. Sometimes he thought about ending it, or cursed the G.I. bill (which he blamed in the first place), but every time he made the five-hour drive to Philadelphia for a secret tryst it just felt... worth it.

[toyeluz / post-war]

Through the Gay Days by ama *****

“When you got to a camp, you just immediately sought out the other gay guys, just for the reinforcement of knowing you were not alone.” -- Pvt. Ben Small, Army Air Corps.

Four gay men arrive at Camp Toccoa in 1942, each thinking that they are alone. They're used to being alone and used to keeping secrets. But when Gene Roe, George Luz, Ed Tipper, and Chuck Grant meet, they realize that the war has shaken everything up, and together the four friends try to make it through the worst of the war--and the best.

[snafroe / tipper x lieb / toyeluz / speirsgrant / queer history]

Okay ladies and gents this is it. This fic is up there as one of the best I’ve had the blessing to read. This story is such a fantastic study into queer history, specifically pertaining to queer culture in the military that would go on to become the very foundations for the LGBTQA+ community as a whole. This author simply has an incredible grasp of queer history please read and support everything by ama.

they don’t know about the up all nights (they don’t know I’ve waited all my life) by PotofCoffee

Johnny and Bull throughout the war, in a slow meandering dance you might just call love.

[bull x martin / Period-Typical Homophobia]

Boy’s in love trying to figure themselves out.

By Small and Small by luxover

Babe wants to keep talking with Gene, but he doesn’t really know what to say. He feels like, in the past, he never would’ve shut up, but now, since Julian, he’s just got nothing. Maybe that’s grieving; Bill says that’s grieving, anyway, but Bill uses the term like a Band-Aid to put over every aspect of Babe that has changed.

Or: The one where Gene is in med school and Babe's messed up over Julian.

[baberoe / modern au / hurt-comfort]

Random The Pacific mentions just because:

My Sweet Summer by Emono

Eugene hears from his good friend George Luz about a charity farm he wants to do a story about. Feeling restless in Mobile, Eugene travels to Currahee to investigate the town and see if there's a story worth pursuing. There he finds people he'd never think he'd meet. A bright and bubbly ranch owner, his gruff business partner, a charming server, a modern (but happily married, damn it) witch, and a Lousiana boy who seems to have an eye for him.

Eugene lets himself enjoy the adventure and succumb to the sweet spell of Currahee.

[sledgefu / farm life]

Southern belle sledge meets farm boi snafu.

Where to Begin by ama

In the summer of 1946, Leckie travels down to Alabama for Sid’s wedding. Once there, he rekindles a friendship with Eugene Sledge. They’re both a little lost, a little broken, a little heartsick; it might not seem like the best basis for a relationship, but to their surprise they find themselves stumbling towards one anyway.

[leckie x sledge / post-war]

Rarepair, I know, but please give this one a chance cause it’s incredibly good. Two gay boys finding each other in 1940s america.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That’s all folks, I might do another in a few months tho.

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intoxicatingimmediacy · 6 years ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if it's possible to post the whole of the Vincent Academy article (if not, that's totally fine!)? I've just tried to go on the link to read the whole thing but it's not available to view in the UK :(

Of course! I’m in Europe myself, bless trustzone for being a reliable VPN. Here ya go:

Daveed Diggs comes home to rap with kids at his adopted West Oakland school

The students of Vincent Academy in West Oakland aren’t old enough to have seen Daveed Diggs’ most celebrated works, like his Oakland-centric film “Blindspotting” or his turn as part of the original cast in the award-winning musical “Hamilton,” but these kids do recognize him.

As the 37-year-old actor-rapper-filmmaker walks through the elementary school Monday, May 13, students start calling out, “Hey, Daveed Diggs,” and, “It’s Daveed from the videos.” One first-grader stops Diggs and asks if he knows Elmo, the furry, red Muppet from “Sesame Street.” Diggs crouches his 6-foot frame slightly to make eye contact.

“I spent the whole day with Elmo,” he tells the student.

The boy is clearly impressed. Diggs is pleased he scored points with his audience. “I knew the day I did that it would be the most popular thing I ever do in my life,” he says of the “Sesame Street” appearance.

Diggs made 2018’s “Blindspotting” in the same neighborhood where the 3-year-old charter school for kindergarten to fifth grade is located, which was one of the factors that made it the right school for him to partner with as a part of Turnaround Arts: California. It’s also not far from where he grew up near 44th Street and Martin Luther King Jr. Way.

“I’m always looking to get involved in Oakland schools; when Turnaround approached me, it was exactly the right thing,” Diggs says. “I’ve been in education, I’ve worked as an arts educator for a lot of my life. I’ve witnessed the cutting of arts funding to schools, particularly for this age group. It’s nice to be back at a school in that way.”

Diggs adopted Vincent Academy at the beginning of this year as part of the program, which facilitates arts education to high-need schools by ensuring the arts are involved in the curriculum. The program also delivers art supplies and, sometimes, artists to these schools. Malissa Shriver, the co-founder of Turnaround Arts: California, says that as the program has evolved over the years, it has become not only about placing artists in the lowest performing schools, but also about placing artists with personal connections to the community whenever possible.

“It adds something for the artist, the community and the children,” Shriver says. “We try not to have them be a random drop-in; it’s about building the relationship. To have someone like Daveed come to your school who is part of that community is a life-affirming experience for a child and the staff.”

Because of Diggs’ busy schedule — he’s been filming the TV adaptation of the film “Snowpiercer” and appeared in the play “White Noise” in New York — Monday was his first visit to Vincent Academy, but he’s followed the school on Instagram and checked in with video messages to the students. It’s part of Diggs’ effort to remain connected to his Oakland roots personally (his family still lives in the area) and artistically.

“I went to Berkeley High School and remember rappers who went there coming to just hang out — there was a model for these things,” Diggs says. “As those things disappear, you lose (arts) as an option.”

Diggs also talks about the necessity of the arts in expanding students’ worldviews and developing their capabilities for empathy. Performing, he says, is all about being “an empathy merchant.”

“Being in plays forced you to imagine a reality outside your own,” Diggs says.

Diggs doesn’t have children, but he’s at ease with them. He tells the fifth-grade English class that when he worked on the film “Wonder,” his first movie role, he sought advice from the child actors on set because they were mostly seasoned pros. The story carries an extra connection for the students, who are reading “Wonder” in their class. He also admits to the students that he is a little nervous speaking to them, but that it’s OK to be nervous, as long as you’re authentic.

“You have no idea what a big deal that was,” says school Principal Monica Rasmussen. “For a kid to hear that Daveed Diggs is nervous is a big moment.”

After visiting a second-grade music class, Diggs is off to the big event of the day: the all-school assembly where students will be performing a number from the school musical and reading poetry. After the performances, Diggs takes questions.

How long has he been rapping? Since he was 13.

How old is he now? An old man, he jokes, 37.

How did he become an artist? By making art, he says.

Finally a student asks Diggs to rap:

“I’m from Oakland, that is where I was born,” Diggs raps, the students clapping the beat. “That is where I spent my days, that’s the norm. West Oakland sometimes, in the North too. Had family in the East so we were all cool. Every day out on 44th, MLK that was in the North … I couldn’t wait to get back home and start a career of my own. I realized arts was the thing for me, that’s when an artist I decided to be.”

Immediately after the visit, Diggs had to fly back to Los Angeles. He’s hopeful his schedule in the coming year will allow for more time at the school, but for now it’s back to work. His role with Turnaround, he says, feels like coming full circle.

“My access to the arts definitely changed my life,” says Diggs. “The Oakland that I grew up in is unrecognizable, but I’m glad these kids are getting to participate in art in the same way.”

#amylaurelm #answered

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empressxmachina · 6 years ago

Photo

Welcome Home, Sasha - One. by Imperial-Radiance (aka me)

To set the mood:

Alexa, play this video containing simulated spaceship bedroom ambiance and featuring a fairly complementing background fitting for the first half of this part.

As for this preview pic that resembles the helm in the second half of this part, it's this picture off Pinterest, I think.

Now, the story...

“So, can you tell me anything about why the hell they were getting emulsified by Commander Martin back there?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, will you?”

“In due course, sure. But everything you need to know, for now, you already do.”

“Well, fuck.”

If you oversleep, then don’t expect to get work or pay during the day. That was one of the general, unspoken rules aboard the space station Novis, and Lieutenant Sasha Keeling had prayed that the team with whom he was meant to scout would be as apathetic as usual and not catch him arriving late to training. Or, they would at least allow him to pull some sort of overtime to make up for the time lost: not much, considering all he had done for them already just trying to fit in.

Washing up and putting on his suit in record time, Sasha had zipped out of his quarters and through the space station’s corridors, hoping to catch up with his presumed partners before they made any bold decisions without him. But they had.

Where he had expected to find them in Hangar C, conversing by and packing gear into the eldest’s parked spaceship, he instead found an empty parking space that had run cold. Any other day, Sasha would’ve just figured that its owner was out for a test run with his partners being elsewhere in Novis doing other things. But, the lack of message left for him, them not answering his calls for verification, and the teasing expressions and chuckles from those in the hanger that caught sight of him set in stone that they not only left him in the space dust but used him, never going to bring him along in the first place.

Sasha hadn’t had much time to wallow in his embarrassment, though he definitely lived up to his given nickname of Sasha the Sheepish. As he turned around to head back to his quarters to nap and drink his shame away, he was stopped by a familiar but a nowadays not-so-frequent face.

He, a superior on various levels except for height, had known all too well that Sasha had no business being in the hangar. He wasn’t enlisted for any mission at the time, yet there he was, ragged looking with his auburn locks going in all directions and his deep-set chestnut eyes no better but everywhere else suited up like it should’ve been.

Sasha easily saw the judgment on his senior’s face, watching his facial muscles squirm and lift the textured, ebony hairs above and on it. But rather than being scolded on the spot as he and all the now silenced onlookers expected, the higher-up just guided him away from all their eyes to his haven with no questions asked, where he could take him in all for himself.

It wasn’t the first time Tshepo Azikiwe, a Novis admiral, had brought him into his laboratory, finally greeting the shy subordinate with a “Glad You’re Back” upon arrival, but Sasha never thought that particular meeting then – one predicted to be another one-hour lecture on how he shouldn't be so susceptible to first-time kindness – would eventually lead to him taking the role not of just a passenger but of his Mission Specialist and potential copilot in Tshepo’s own ship, the Demeter, light years away from Novis and headed to… to…

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” the now lackadaisical lieutenant probed in the present from down the hall, voice floating through the cracked open, milky glass doorway dividing the helm from the rest of the dark and dim ship.

As far as he could tell, there was a blur on all the windows, and all the mapping systems in the Demeter except those in the cockpit were shut down. Sasha had no way of detecting where they were in the caverns of space, and there was no way he was going to be able to get Tshepo's lenses off him that did.

To combat the boredom and Tshepo’s silence on the matters ensued, Sasha wondered to himself, lain with one foot on the bed of his cold cabin, twiddling and examining a miniature of a NASA Space Shuttle from years – decades, a century – past he’s had since childhood between his fingers. He gazed at it intently, still enamored by its attention to detail and maintained quality for something so small and ancient. He could even imagine almost undetectable, tiny navigators inside the orbiter, fiddling with the controls at the helm.

As fun as it was to wonder, it wasn’t long before a wave of angst came through, making him reminisce of its and thus his own origins: his home world he hadn’t seen for over a decade.

Every day, he wondered what his life could’ve been if things didn’t go as they did. Perhaps, he would've been an Earth-based astronaut for NASA rather than the distant affiliate he was now, helping and being a part of humanity directly rather than perusing the galaxies for the unknown just to keep the peace. It would sure be less hectic than potentially starting a war every moment solely by existing.

“Have you finished setting up the mods on your suit?” Tshepo tested back from the driver’s seat, glancing at the rearview mirror propped to aim back toward the lantern-lit dormitory.

It was a simple yes-or-no question: one of the few static binaries in the ever-expanding universe. So, how would a non-answer such as the one Sasha gave for a duration fit into the equation? The jab-less silence from Sasha was telling enough on its own, but with the distant footsteps and rustling and creaking of the bed that followed, along with another verbalized “Fuck”, Tshepo knew his authority still held its strength.

“I thought so,” he chuckled, focusing back on the expanse in front of him. “I figured you would’ve at least tried to get it calibrated, but there’s no use worrying about that now.”

Sasha set his toy down on his bedside table with a groan and hoisted himself off the bed to do as he had been instructed (after volunteering) to do. He began to stretch, attempting to revitalize his limbs and loosen his muscles, simultaneously scanning what practically was his second home – third, counting his quarters on Novis.

A quaint hovel, his cabin was: a mobile, cup-sized, soup can of a capsule containing bits and pieces of him, old and new. Although the technological intricacies of his intergalactic escapades were worthily glorified – the inner, emerald luminescence and trackers of his spacesuit, prototypes and mockups of Tshepo’s various experiments, including those to which Sasha contributed, cycling through a Holo-Display and its cyan figures on his desk, the marvel that was the Demeter itself, etc. – the images of the relatively domestic side of his life overshadowed them through their simplicity and wholesomeness.

Many scoffs and looks of confusion were always sent Sasha’s way about his suit and all of the old-school references and icons of Earth-centric media scattered on its chest plate via decals, but he never batted an eye at them, not ashamed of his roots one bit. Those sentiments spread to more than just absorbed culture, exemplified by all the pictures and video clips of Sasha’s various achievements, large and small, Tshepo pasted across the walls, ranging from his first time completing the Zero-G Hero’s Course as a wee kiddo with bruises for days to the recent ceremony locking in his promotion to Chief Atmospheric Engineer.

Being just twenty years old and hand-picked by the commander, it was an honor in numerous aspects. He had quite a lot for which he could be celebrated, even if his so-called peers took heed to never acknowledge it. Tshepo had every right to be proud of him, but Sasha always wished for the recognition from someone else: two specific people, actually.

Right next to the head of his bed, now behind the Space Shuttle model, was not a hologram or 3D print but an actual paper-printed and framed photo of a preschooler-aged Sasha and his parents together back on Earth. A smaller print also found itself pinned by his heart in his suit, adding to the tradition of having one within every uniform he had had over the years. Looking at the picture, no one would’ve been able to tell the magnitude of the global chaos lingering in its background and out of the frame that eventually led to Sasha’s relocation: just a sweet, happy, space-loving family unit he dearly missed.

Although Tshepo was great in filling the void of his needs and most of his wants, Sasha knew it wasn’t what he wanted deep down. He was never totally sure why his parents couldn’t come with him, let alone why he had to go in the first place. With the fancy gadgets, doodads, and documents they kept around the house as far as he remembered, they had to have been qualified to study the stars and all they held, much more than where he was now. But, what could he do about it, a galaxy or several away? All current worries about them would be produced in vain.

Eventually, his stretching session ended, his eyes shined from familial remembrance, and his hands went for his helmet sat at the foot of the bed. Upon grabbing it and staring into its innards, though, Sasha’s humility toward his abilities and its complementing worries were reignited and heightened as a recollection of Tshepo’s remark burrowed itself deep into Sasha’s consciousness, not for what he said specifically but what was inferred.

“Wait, what?” Sasha muttered to himself, looking back and forth between the helmet and the rest of his suit, trying to remember how to even do the procedure. “If the calibration should’ve been done before landing, then why shouldn’t I be worried about doing it now?”

“Because we’re here.”

Before he could combat Tshepo’s sudden statement, Sasha could sense the truth enveloping under him, feeling and hearing the vibrations and power of the rockets and engines transitioning into the settings needed for a soft landing. As gravity began taking effect on the ship with its descent, Sasha took the moment to look over his shoulder to whatever he could see through his window. Out of all places to which they could’ve been headed, Sasha was shocked to find primarily warm reds, oranges, and browns in view: a spectrum of a hazily familiar planet that usually didn’t require any secrecy to reference.

Perhaps, his eyes were deceiving him, trying to give him a sense of comfort being thrust into what would probably be a challenge. After all, there had to be some reason why Tshepo chose him over someone else with more experience in, well, anything. To see if he truly earned his engineering chiefdom? To test his accuracies as the biogenesist he had been building himself to be through years of lab and class study? Just because he’s a favorite, more or less like a son or brother? With the almost missed plop and anchoring of the Demeter’s landing gear onto an apparently land surface, boosting his hypothesis of their location, it was time to find out.

Feeling confident in where they were, Sasha didn’t bother putting on the helmet just yet, walking out of his cabin with it in one arm while the other tapped his breastplate right above his tucked-in family portrait as both a goodbye and a wish for luck to himself. However, rather than seeing Tshepo doing the same with his suit, approaching him from the helm, Sasha found him still sitting there in the pilot’s chair, not having moved and looking as though he wasn’t going to move, either.

“Uh, are you not coming, Ki?” Sasha queried, stepping across the metal flooring past the lavatory and little lounge area for eating and through the foggy-glassed doorway to his friend/mentor/caretaker with a knock upon entrance.

Tshepo perked up at the polite signaling along with the endearing nickname. While he didn’t feel that Sasha’s feelings toward him had changed since boarding the ship, it was still nice to hear them being as strong as ever, even if they had a sheer veil of sadness over them. The youngling’s sideward approach, leaning close by on the copilot’s chair – his if he wished to contribute – to see his doings hammered their veracity in deeper, making keeping the confidentiality alive all the more difficult with him right there.

“I will if necessary,” he chided, not looking at Sasha as he adjusted the switches, buttons, and screens at the helm.

Only seconds later, Tshepo felt Sasha bend toward him, breaths passing along the bushel of hair across the underside of his chin as the young adult gazed, trying to comprehend anything in sight. He was nervous momentarily, but the worries subsided when Sasha admitted defeat, ultimately sighing and returning to standing position, unable to read the respectively alien language everything was set to. Luckily, their orientation allowed for Tshepo to pull a smirk without notice, glad that his translation scheme actually worked.

“But, right now, I have to make sure levels stay in order,” he continued, finally glancing up at his youthful familiar. “The connectivity to Novis, the Demeter’s power bank, the mods on your suit…”

“And, why can’t you come with me to do that?” Sasha considered through an almost childlike whine. For one, his Ki to the cosmos wasn’t as locked down as he usually was. Or, maybe he was too much so. Either way, it was weird. “Surely, this mission of yours, whatever it is, isn’t time sensitive. You would’ve brought more people with us if that were true.”

“Well, you’re right about the timing. This is a mission searching for accuracy and detail of the ecosphere rather than time being of the essence. Though, being punctual is never a bad thing. After all, your current timeline would be totally different if you had followed that rule, wouldn’t it?”

Sasha caught the reference of petty, partner neglect immediately and couldn’t hold back an audible groan, earning a giggle from Tshepo.

“Anyway,” the youngster tried putting the conversation back on course, “I can wait for you to do your domestic thingies first or even help you with them, and then we can do whatever bio-survey we need to do with you moderating the mods as needed.”

“My suit can only protect me, not monitor you,” Tshepo prompted him, “and the mods are only on yours. They’re still on a test run for which you’ve accepted being the lab rat, so I can only do my part from here.”

Completely disregarding the lack of protection implied, Sasha conceded,

“Fine. Whatever you say, Ki.” He tossed and spun his helmet in the air, catching it like a basketball and observing it like a crystal ball. “I did say ‘Yes’ and all, so I don’t want you to turn me in for insubordination or some shit like that. Not that you would, but I’m not risking it with this secrecy schtick you’re playing right now.”

Tshepo expelled a moan of disappointment, hearing his apprentice of sorts somberly drag him through the ground for what had to be one of the biggest miscommunications in the universe. “All I ask of you is to trust me when I say that everything will be clear as soon as you get out there. Okay?”

Rather than addressing him back directly, Sasha, against his instincts, started setting and securing his helmet on its proper place on his collar, hearing the clicks and suctions of locks and beeps of computer systems turning on to standby, waiting for further instruction. He then turned his gaze away and resumed his ranting through a mutter to himself, given Tshepo’s new, closer proximity,

“You’re already delaying clarifying stuff I was a witness for – what I saw and heard, so I guess it’s not that much of a stretch to think you’d hide stuff I don’t know, too.”

“Sasha, you know I always try to have your best intentions in mind,” Tshepo reminded, rising from his seat and setting a gentle hand on Sasha’s shoulder with an equally endearing soft, russet stare.

Doing so kept the youngling from walking toward the entry latch and expanding both the physical and emotional distance between them just yet. The young man already had enough to be sad about as is, and while the truth would just make it worse, Tshepo didn’t want it holding him back until it was right in front of him with no yield.

“I didn’t think I had to explain how this actually wasn’t a mission for you,” he added with a lecturing cadence, “and I wasn’t supposed to bring you with me but did anyway.”

From the gasp and look Sasha made back, it was obvious to Tshepo that his apprentice wasn’t aware of the helmet’s microphone’s immediate powering on upon placement along with that tiny truth. His slender suit may have been built fully in crimson with an almost radioactive glow of green in every vent and sliver inside and out, it didn’t dampen out the blushing that crept on Sasha’s cheeks through the viewing window.

“Really?” Sasha finally replied after a pregnant pause, to which he received an authoritative nod. If his helmet wasn’t mushing his wispy locks down, then he would’ve been combing through or twirling the ends of them with a hand out of embarrassment: a habit burned into him since he was tween-aged. “Then, why in the fuck did you bring me? Why am I here at all?”

“I already said I can’t test and check at the same time. I have my other reasons for breaking my binds, but don’t tell me you can’t do something as simple as making sure the mods work on the field?”

“Whoa, hold up,” Sasha breathed, not expecting an interrogation, let alone one so seemingly lighthearted. “What are you implying?”

“I don’t know, perhaps that your savant-like styles of science and surveying are bounded by walls.”

As quickly as it came, Sasha’s shame was soon lifted, catching the challenge within Tshepo’s now-apparently friendly berating all the fatherlier. Little did he know that his eventual acceptance of it was falling right into Tshepo's plan. When fitting in a place of comfort, Sasha's cockiness and confidence weren’t hard to pop out.

“No, no. You and I both know that's not true!” Sasha announced, playfully scoffing. “If the commander himself had enough faith to get me promoted – something I'm still not sure I deserve but am grateful of, nonetheless – then I can do a little scan or two. Watch me; I won't let you down.”

“I never thought you would,” Tshepo smiled, patting his youngster's back as he headed for the entry latch to head out. “Just make sure the mods are functional.”

Silence filled the airwaves as Sasha loosened the suction of the heavy latch and trekked down the pebbly path of the exit. He expected to hear winds or animals of the environment or voices of technicians waiting for his arrival, but, surprisingly, he heard nothing on the outside. There was only him, his thoughts, and the beeps and dynamics of his suit. If they weren't the medley of sounds that he was used to on the daily, having never really been talkative with anyone except those of the few positions higher than himself, then he would've thought it was weird.

The young engineer had just made it to the external opening, just about to be exposed to the mystery destination one-on-one, before he heard Tshepo’s voice again.

“One more thing before you go,” he directed through the microphone. “As much as I want you to be quick and correct…” He struggled to find the right words, not wanting to give away the truth about their reason for usage prematurely. “…tread lightly.”

“I, uh…” Sasha caught the hesitation in his voice, frazzled by the strange instruction, but not wanting to restart another uncomfortable back-and-forth, he brushed it aside. Instead, he looked to the metallic, light tessellated walls and ceilings for the camera Tshepo had to have been using to see him, found it, and acknowledged him with a promising salute as he signaled for the doors to open and the exit ramp to be unraveled. “I’m on it.”

Before either of them knew it, the sensors were set off, and the Demeter opened its maw to reveal its insignificant, human inhabitant and release him to the vastness of the unknown, outside world.

#my writing #welcome home sasha #there's no g/t yet but you know there will be #space fic

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