#archivist logs 2

[laora-ryn]

so I have a Magnus Protocol theory. it's not an airtight theory, but I think it holds enough water that I feel confident posting this today now that ep 21 is live

I think [ERROR] is Jonathan Sims, The Archivist. or what's become of him. or what's left of him

The short version:

Tape recorders spontaneously appear around [ERROR] and their victims

People are compelled to start reciting statements. We have an n of 3 total, but an n of 1 (of 3) where the statement and [ERROR] are directly linked

They were trapped in a water-logged space beneath the Archivist's office of the Magnus Institute, before Sam accidentally let them out

They seem to have a vested interest in protecting Gwen "Jon Sims' closest archetype in Protocol" Bouchard

The long version is under the cut because hooooo boy did it get long

I'll start with the obvious question. "[ERROR] is credited as voiced by Beth Eyre! we do hear their voice in Breaking Ground, and it doesn't sound like Jon!"

Answer 1: it would be extremely way too obvious if Jonny voiced this character, if they didn't want people to make the connection immediately

Answer 2: I doubt what [ERROR] sounds like right now is going to matter too much in the long run, if it isn't meant to, because it sounds like they're probably some kind of ghost/apparition, and their appearances are so heavily distorted audio-wise that I just. don't really trust them myself, tbh?

But it probably would be silly to forget that Beth Eyre did appear in TMA, exactly once. She voiced the lady who witnessed the attempted Flesh ritual and came to give a statement to Gertrude about it. As far as I can tell, that lady didn't meet Jon at all. I feel like it's probably premature to say this is a simple case of "reusing the VA because we like them," but I don't think it's completely out of the question

so to the matter of [ERROR] themselves, the only physical description we get of them is "manky old git," courtesy of Ink5oul. They seem like the type to think anyone over 30 is "old," so take that with a grain of salt lol

The in-scene descriptors we get of [ERROR] are as follows:

Episode 10:

The water is gently disturbed below. Then there is a thud on the hidden wooden trapdoor and the rattle of a padlock.

There is the distinct sound of a key being dragged across wood, then being blindly fumbled in a lock which finally clicks.

The trap door opens, the lock falling away and [ERROR] emerges and takes a shuddering breath..

Episode 21:

A Figure emerges, shrouded in a cloak of whispers.

The Figure continues to emerge, a nightmarish specter of an older world, slowly enveloping Ink5oul’s brash bravado.

Ink5oul reluctantly releases GWEN. She sprints away still gabbling as she flees.

The Figure does not move.

Beat. The Figure turns to Ink5oul.

The Figure breathes deeply, a strange and disconcerting sound, enveloped in pained whispers.

The Figure recedes.

Voice lines from episode 21:

"MINE"

"ALL OF THEM, MINE"

"THERE IS MORE"

"NO. NOT HERE. ELSEWHERE..."

So here's what I'm taking away from this list:

[ERROR] is at least in some way corporeal, in that they can interact with the physical world

They seem to do a lot of breathing. it is unpleasant to listen to

They appear to be followed around by whispers? I'm taking the transcripts' word on that one, because my hearing is crap and I can't hear the sound effect. But I'm including it because it might be relevant

They have either a powerful enough presence/aura, or did something visibly that we didn't hear, enough to make Ink5oul back down. Ink5oul, who three minutes ago cut off a man's arm because he thought about getting in their way. Ink5oul, who definitely was Not going to let Gwen go without a fight. Ink5oul, a powerful new avatar, backed down after barely a fight at all

"a nightmarish spectre of an older world" has terrifying connotations I am not yet ready to tackle!

So... to go through my points from earlier I guess aha:

THE TAPE RECORDERS

We've seen tape recorders pop up 3 times so far:

episode 10 in the Archivist's office

episode 15 when Alice encounters the drowning woman

episode 21 when Gwen is cornered by Ink5oul

Two of these, [ERROR] shows up directly. In episode 15, we have no [ERROR] that we can see, but we DO see someone who is very likely one of [ERROR'S] victims? after-effects? which leads into:

THE COMPELLED STATEMENTS

We've heard of 3 (4, ish) compelled statements so far:

episode 15, the drowning woman

episode 18, the woman who started speaking on the autopsy table

(arguably) episode 20, where Ink5oul gives a monologue that sounds Very Much Like a statement. However, the mechanism of how this happened is still unclear

episode 21, Gwen spontaneously starts giving a statement relatively coherently when she's been hysterical - immediately after Ink5oul's tattoo gun touched her skin, and literally three seconds before [ERROR] shows up and lays claim to her

Two of these are recorded on tape recorders, as above. One of them (Ink5oul's) is recorded on Gwen's phone.

Episode 18, according to the coroner's report, was transcribed longhand by the doctor while the victim was speaking. Presumably, they eventually loaded it into her chart, where it was picked up by Freddy. However, it feels significant to me that the initial recording of the statement was done in a non-digital way

THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE

Does this even need to be a section tbh? lol

I would like to point out some oddities from episode 10 that may or may not be relevant to [ERROR]:

Alice and RedCanary both specifically call out a weird floor carving in the atrium, that somehow survived the fire

The key to the trapdoor was at the bottom of a filing cabinet?

The LOCK on the trapdoor, which appears to have been keeping [ERROR] trapped, was on the UNDERSIDE of the trapdoor??

THE TIES TO GWEN

Please consider Gwen Bouchard for a moment.

Gwen is a young employee of the OIAR who's worked there for four-ish years. She's recently been promoted.

She's finding out very quickly that she's in over her head with this job, but doesn't feel able to ask her coworkers for help.

She's rash, and has a short temper, and has exacting standards, and doesn't think very highly of her coworkers. She's an ass, but she's not a bad person - when she realizes that something she did caused other people to suffer, she was genuinely horrified.

Her boss is deliberately obtuse and unhelpful. Her boss is deliberately sending her into dangerous situations without all the facts or even any information at all, making her go face to face with monsters with the power to seriously harm or even kill her.

All this, while she barely has any concept that the monsters she's been reading about are very real and very dangerous. She has, just moments ago, been visibly marked by a monster who's been stalking her with a stated intention to cause permanent, even fatal, injury

EDITED TO ADD: Gwen had a childhood encounter with something presumably supernatural. Something involving a door that shouldn't have been opened

It feels very, very in-character for Jon Sims, or what's left of him, or an Archivist that has any scrap of Jon Sims left in them, to see her and see her trajectory, and say "no, absolutely not." Jon Sims, who - last time we saw him - said "I'd rather kill our doomed world myself than make anyone in another hypothetical reality go through what I have."

"[She's] mine - all of them, mine." Gwen Bouchard, a young member of an office with a job she can't even begin to understand. Her coworkers: Alice Dyer, a friendly, sarcastic woman with a cheerful front and a younger brother she adores. Sam Khalid, a man far too curious for his own good, who will follow a lead into danger if it means he might get some goddamn answers. Colin Becher, a man who's starting to understand what they've been wrapped up in, and who is quickly letting it consume him. And Celia Ripley, a woman [ERROR] may or may remember or recognize from the last time they were anything approaching human

Jon, or what's left of him, or what he's become, seeing all the same parallels that the audience has been seeing since episode one, and deciding to do something about it. To be the protector he, and Tim, and Sasha, and Martin so desperately needed. Laying claim to the OIAR staff in order to prevent them from being harmed by other monsters. Helping in maybe the only way he can, as he is right now

And maybe I'm wildly off-base! Maybe I'll be proven wrong in episode 22, or episode 30, or episode 90! but the more I think about this meta the more I love it, and the more sense it makes to me

[thetravelingegg]

Hello! We are happy that you have chosen to become a crew member of the Lost Light. Before you get started there are some rules you must follow to ensure your safety for the duration of the journey.

Rules for the Lost Light:

1. If you see a yellow briefcase, don’t touch it and immediately notify Ultra Magnus of its whereabouts.

2. Do not, for any reason, be within 50 ft of the engine during takeoff. If you ignore this rule then we are not responsible for what happens to you.

3. If you are in the engine room and you hear a voice whispering “kill me”, you’re imagining things. Do not tell anyone else about it.

4. If you hear a really loud BOOM, do not initiate your transformation cog and make your way to the medibay.

5. If suddenly all of the lights turn off, lock all doors and don’t leave the room. Try to make as little noise as possible and do not attempt to turn on any lights. Don’t let any unfamiliar bots inside the room. DO NOT let him see you.

6. If at any point on this journey you find corpses with these characteristics, it is imperative that you immediately notify your captains and leave the area:

- Missing T-cog

- Processor in it’s mouth

- A face covered in puncture marks

- Has been electrocuted to death

- Has been grounded up

7. If you ever hear someone singing or humming the song The Empurean Suite nearby, IMMEDIATELY leave the area. Do whatever you need to do to get away. Anything is better than letting them catch you.

8. Don’t sing or hum The Empyrean Suite.

9. There are scraplets in the oil reservoir. Don’t worry she is mostly domesticated and will not harm you unless it is her feeding time. Do not swim in the reservoir at the times of 10:00 and 25:00

10. The Lost Light has no psychiatrist. If a mech with a grey mouthpiece claims to be one and proposes having sessions with him, do not agree and immediately notify your captains.

11. If you are looking old Lost Light footage or logs and you see any mention of an orange and white bot with glasses and a spark window, named Rung, occupation: psychiatrist, immediately cease looking at the document and give it to the ships archivist Rewind. This mech does not exist. The Lost Light has no psychiatrist.

12. If someone leaves and then comes back acting strangely and with fresh puncture wounds in the nape of their neck, immediately notify your captains.

[shizucheese]

So full disclosure, I actually listened to episode 7 on Saturday, but this episode had so damn much to it and I got a bit side tracked by a theory that I'm still working on but I really want to get this out before episode 8 comes out.

As usual, if you want to see the continuously updated and reblogged version of my red string board, you can find it here.

Today is Tuesday, 2/27/24. Episode 7 came out 5 days ago on 2/22/24.

“Talkers”

Norris (Voice: Martin?/ Alex)

Episode 1: “Reanimation (Partial) -/- Regret [Email]”. The Stranger? The End? The Dark? The Lonely? The Flesh? Arthur (Nolan?).

Episode 3: "Infection (full body" -/- Arboreal [Journal entry]". The Spiral? (Paranoia? Auditory, visual and olfactory hallucinations) The Lonely? The Corruption. The Flesh? (Callbacks to the Flesh Garden from S5)

Common Themes: Hearing the voice of a dead/ missing loved one?

Chester (Voice: John?/ Jonny)

Episode 1: “Transformation (eyes) -/- Tresspass [chat log]”. Magnus Institute, The Eye. (Involves a forum; the Web?).

Episode 5: "Disappearance (undetermined) -/- Invitation [Internet blog]". The Eye (Movies. Movie name: "Voyeur" "Must be seen to be believed"...). The Web? (Another website?). (Very reminiscent of Mag 110: Creature Feature.) The "poor old guy" at the theater is totally an Eye avatar, right? Kinda gives me "Simon Fairchild when he was first introduced" vibes.

Episode 7: "Agglomeration (miscellany) -/- congregation [email]". The Stranger. The Burried. The Desolation. Possibly all of them if my theory about the items the Volunteers brought in is correct...

Unsure if this is Eye related like the other statements were. This is also the first "Chester" statement where the source material wasn't from a website or blog, which don't have the same expectation of privacy that the sources of the other statements do. Email, though, so still internet related, and this seems to be an open letter rather than personal correspondence, so it still might align with the theme.

Agustus: (rare?)

Episode 4: “Collection (blood) -/- musical [letter]” The End. The Lonely? The Slaughter.

Letter writer thinks passing on his violin might allow a part of himself to live on in his nephew. Very Jonah Magnus of him.

Music teacher hears “faraway music”, then goes crazy and throws himself out of the carriage and dies. Reminiscent of Mag7 and the Piper? The merchant’s wares include dice (Mag 29?). Got the violin from him (took his blood?). Effect of the violin reminiscent to Grifter’s Bone (Mag 42).

(Oliver Bardwell lol very funny guys)

Non-Talkers (?)

Episode 2: "Transformation (full) -/- dysmorphic [video call]". The Spiral? The Flesh. The Stranger. Ink 5oul (avatar/ entity?)

Episode 6: "Injury (needles) -/- intimidation [999 call] "Corruption? The Spiral? The Flesh? The End?

"Needles" reminds me of Michael!Distortion.

Notes and Thoughts:

"It's not like we're dealing with Tape Recorders..." I'm side eying you real hard, Celia. And what's with all of the questions? The "looking for patterns" question is 100% fair but those examples are AWEFULLY SPECIFIC. I wasn't entirely sure I bought the idea that Celia was the same Celia from TMA, but no this is totally her for sure. "DO YOU KNOW WHO JOHN" IS EXCUSE ME? WHAT REAL STUFF?

HILLTOP CENTER BRANCH?!!! 0 managerial or other support from HR; very reminiscent of the weird circumstances surrounding the house on Hilltop Road. Bear skin rug very reminiscent of the Gorilla Skin in TMA S3. The Volunteers remind me of the medical students from Mag34. The email is about events from 2015. This was the same year Gertrude died and John became the Head Archivist in TMA. Why am I not seeing anyone else talk about this?

I have a theory that I was originally going to put in this post but detangling that giant ball of red string entirely is taking too long so I'm just going to put the TL'DR here and maybe make a proper list later if I can ever finish pulling the string on that particular red sweater. Between the items the Volunteers bring in, and the events of the incident itself, what if every single Entity is represented? The gunshots that were heard were the Slaughter. The fire was the Desolation. The person who wrote the email being crushed by all of the items was the Buried. There are a number of artifacts that get listed off that could represent at least one if not multiple Entities (which might be their purpose; considering how many times the fact that the categorization was imperfect got brought up in TMA, it's probably more helpful to view them as a spectrum more than anything else), including some that are very reminiscent of things from specific TMA statements (The bear skin rug -> The Gorilla skin, Old medical equipment -> the syringe in mag 45? The telescope -> Maxwell Rayner was originally Edmond Halley, the Astronomer, etc. etc). So...okay, hear me out: what if this was all part of a ritual, and that's what the "good cause" was? A ritual that involved all of the fears being represented? Sound familiar? Except instead of it being a ritual to start an apocalypse or reshape the world in the image of one or more of the fears, what if it was a ritual to summon something that was associated with all of the fears? Or, rather, what if it was a ritual to summon someone who had been touched by all of the fears? And that's also why so many of the items seem to be analogous to things from statements and events from TMA? Like....maybe I'm wrong entirely. Or maybe I'm right about this being about summoning someone, or something, (maybe someone from TMA? Maybe Celia?), but wrong about it being John who was being summoned. But, again, this incident took place in 2015, which was the same year Gertrude died and John became head Archivist, and I feel like this means something.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

SWORDTEMBER '24, DAY 2: SAKURA

Oops it's late. But hey, introducing a format that most if not all of my written entries will use from here on out, as well as a new OC: Cynthia Delabaunte. Parts of her story will be told within the little writing snippets under the cut for these entries :3 Might also expand on her story separately, too, once I can type properly again. -----

Item ID: EO-2402 Item Name: Decorative Blade Category: B-2 Origin Point: Telloran, Katal Owner: Cynthia Delabaunte (C), Naomi Tellorvoso (O) Description: A sword of traditional make and design, in accordance with a specific sect of Earthen history (see files JN-001 through JN-387 for additional context). Likely made from steel. No testing has been done for confirmation. The closest accurate designation that can be given is a katana, but it must be noted that modern examples have strayed from traditional standards. Flowers from a cherry blossom tree (see file EO-2002) are engraved along one side of the blade, the wood of the handle is from the same species, and the cloth bindings appear to be dyed in order to match the color of the flower petals. In need of sharpening, but still dangerous in the right hands. Cataloger’s Notes: If this hadn’t been officially logged within the mailing system already, I wouldn’t bother recording it at all. At least this way there’s less of a chance Naomi will get in trouble (doubt the boss will care that she didn’t know she’s not allowed to send this kind of thing to my office). Hopefully I can get it moved to my apartment without too much fuss… if not, well, guess I’ll just have to find a way to re-categorize this, too.

----- From a technical perspective, a very legal and according to employee file kind of way, Cynthia Delabaunte is nothing more than a cataloger for the Federal Port Authority of the planet Katal. Just one of many working endlessly to inspect, categorize, and manage the influx of items confiscated by inspectors. In practice, she has to be many other things: A historian, a diplomat, an archivist, an antiquarian, and more.

Today, she is trying her hand at being an arborist. For the first time in her decade of experience, the FPA has confiscated an entire goddamn tree.

It waits, stationary, in the loading bay, towering over the rest of the packages. Mocking her, just barely in view from her office window. Slowly, slowly dying. All because someone in the capitol procrastinated on paperwork, It was supposed to be allowed to pass through without any issue, with approval months in advance, bypassing the strict laws regarding potentially invasive species.

By the looks of it, the cherry blossom tree stands little chance of outliving the tiresome games of bureaucracy. Assuming Cynthia doesn’t find a way to speed along the process, at least. She is trying, bless her heart, but one can only call in so many favors before an effort begins to feel futile. Evidently, she needs to change tactics. A loophole, maybe? If she can change the tree’s legal classification… make it count as less than it is (the same way she only counts as a cataloger), then perhaps she can force the FPA to release it.

The only question is where to start- but that gets answered for her soon enough, a message request popping up on her computer. From none other than the tree’s rightful owner, the head of one of Katal’s most important families, Naomi Tellorvoso. Despite having no shortage of experience dealing with important people, Cynthia still feels her heart race at the prospect of talking to the woman.

Thankfully, the message request is for text only. That, she feels, is far less intimidating. Especially once the texts start flying back and forth, Naomi’s frustrations unleashed in a flurry of accusations that came to a screeching, apologetic halt the very moment she realized Cynthia wasn’t responsible for the tree being impounded.Still, the would-be arborist proceeds with caution, refusing to make any direct promises this early into their conversation. Instead, she probes for any information that might be twisted to their benefit.

Naomi’s tone, even though text, softens as soon as she begins sharing the history of the tree. Apparently it is old, having outlived three generations of the Tellorvoso family, genetic modifications making it last far longer than natural members of the species. First planted by Naomi’s great great grandmother, within the garden of their home planet. For decades the tree was the centerpiece of their estate, a shining testament to their heritage (something few humans could trace in this age), with fallen flowers and branches used for traditional crafting.

When the great great grandmother passed, the terms of her will had her buried along the roots of the tree. So too were her children laid to rest in its shade. Now, with Naomi’s mother passing beyond the veil, the Tellorvoso family yearned to have the cherry blossoms bloom closer to home, to have its roots grow strong alongside the rest they have planted. Apparently there had been much praying and deliberating before they agreed to transport the tree from their old homeworld to Katal, wanting to be sure their forefathers would not be frothing with rage in the afterlife.

But all Cynthia needed to know was that someone had been buried beneath the tree. That alone was enough for her to start pulling strings, even as she listened to Naomi continue the tale of her family’s journey across the stars. If you asked either of them, they would not have been able to pinpoint the moment they had switched their conversation to a phone call instead of text. By the time they say their farewells, Cynthia has already managed to re-categorize the sakura tree as a container, the contents being human remains.

Grim? Perhaps, but the port authority is less strict about the movement of coffins than about the introduction of potentially invasive species into the ecosystem (even in highly isolated, controlled circumstances).

Within a week the tree is gone, sent out while Cynthia was at home, and she almost misses the vibrant pink taking up her office view. Almost. Another month passes before she hears anything more from the Tellorvoso family, coming in one day to find a large package resting atop her desk. Clearly marked for her, from Naomi, having already gone through the office’s mailing system. The attached card features a photo of the tree in its new resting place, now looking more lively than it had when it left the office.

But it’s the contents of the box that has Cynthia scrambling to message Naomi, trying to make sense of the absolutely beautiful sword (left unsharpened, yet no less intimidating) that absolutely should not have been sent to her work. Flower petals line the box, helping obscure the weapon, and as she cannot help but admire the craftsmanship while she waits for Naomi to pick up. Nestled among the packing are several bags of tea, as well as a few wrapped candies. Clearly the intent is rather friendly.

Maybe, ah, friendly, based on the way Naomi answers the phone, a little breathy and far less confident than the first time they spoke. She apologizes for breaking the rules, hastily, and rushes right into an offer to properly thank Cynthia for her efforts. Drinks, or dinner, or teaching her how to wield a sword. If that’s what she wants. And by the Ancients, it is what she wants.

[bsamh-archive]

Surgeon’s Log: day 7 of VR therapy testing With subject 35 strapped to her wheelchair, you’d think it’d be difficult for her to get around. However, it appears that somehow, she has managed to bend the 🕷spider-drones🕷 watching her to her will. They’re now wheeling her around wherever she pleases (which doesn’t make much sense, seeing as she has a VR headset on...) 🤔 In other news, my project has attained a new volunteer- a child who I’ll call Specimen 13. I got him from a special giveaway event run by Dr. Jade Kolodychuk! He’s certain to give me tons of interesting data 🥰 Subject 2 is still missing. 😠

-- Posted to private hospital forum by Dr. Selina Kochs [7/19/2020]

(Archivist's note: it appears this log update had been posted a day late by the Dr.)

[caffeinated-fan]

Desktop>logs>Iceman

Chapter 2

Summary:

A glimpse into a slow day at Top Gun, complete with minor inconveniences and lonely wallowing, hurray!

Notes:

This is my first real attempt at a long fic, and trying to come up with a story. This chapter was started over *checks notes* 267 days ago.... I've spent that past (almost) year reading RoosterForMe fics on tumblr and trying wrangle a similar vibe for this. If you want to read *chef's kiss* TG:M fics I cannot recommend her works enough. <3<3<3

Tuesday morning, 10th June.

Laundry, and sweeping. Groceries-MILK and creamer

I was writing my day plans out, my coffee getting colder next to me. Scribbling in the dates of upcoming appointments and services. My pen settled on the square for Saturday, scribbled in hasty pencil marks was ‘Dinner w/ Kazansky, Kans. Barbeque’.

This would be fine, it wasn’t going to suck. Barbeque is good, and therefore things around barbeque are also good.

“That’s a normal thing to think,” I mumbled to myself, taking a sip of coffee. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy being around other people, quite the opposite.

It’s fine, no one would look at an archivist and assume they’re a party animal. Tom seemed to enjoy my company, he somehow made it easier to talk to him. Like he understood when to give me space to talk, not bowling me over to finish what I was saying.

I stowed my journal in my backpack and set out to work. Stopping by my door to plop my basil plant outside.

“Bye, Boski Boo!” I hollered at the small aquarium in the living room before shutting the door.

I drove up to the MA at the base’s gate, holding out my ID, and sliding my bag to the front to let him check it. The ammunition pouches on his kevlar vest sagged inward without clips to hold them open, but the clip in his gun kept the impression that he very much would shoot me if he had to. I drove past him, continuing down a road leading along the edge of base. Despite working here for almost a year I had rarely seen further into the base, my clearance only allowing me a few blocks in. But, I still got to see the buzz of military life in the distance. I had started getting used to the sound of aircraft zipping overhead and buzzing buildings when they came in to land. Although it made calling people while on base a nightmare with jet engines often drowning out both ends of the line.

I hopped out of my car slinging my bag over my shoulder. The brick building stood in the middle of a perfectly kept green, the paved paths clean and swept. As I walked up the path I remembered my first week here, I would cut the corner and step across the grass. Finally I noticed each time I did a sailor would wince or grimace to themselves. One finally told me they’d had it beaten into them to Never EVER walk on the grass. Apparently one of the Officers liked to make sailors who broke that rule crawl on all fours on the grass next to the paved path.

The doors to the archival building stuck as I moved inside, the sea air eating away at the metal. I waved quickly at the receptionist (Katy?) making a b-line for my office. I pushed the power switch on my computer and set about emptying my bag while it booted up. Digging through the mail for any updates on requested materials and orders for copies.

...

Stacking file-boxes full of newly printed copies, I pushed through my office door towards the archives. Walking down the aisles, carefully returning the cassettes to their boxes along with their CD copies. I’d finished up the day after Tom came by. I'd spent the rest of that day thinking about him sitting quietly, flipping through manila folders. ___

I sat clicking my pen, glancing up at Tom through the open doors. His head was bowed, nose almost touching the papers he was looking at. Leaning on his forearms, his hands cradling his head.

“We have magnifying glasses if you need one,” I softly called out. Tom's head popped up, still hunched over the paper.

“That'd be great, thank you.” He pushed up and rubbed at his eyes. I pulled open a desk drawer, grabbed what I needed and headed over.

“I'm surprised you don't need glasses,” I joked, handing him the magnifying glass.

“Hm. Not yet, but I don't doubt that grandpa reading glasses are in my future.” The mental image of Tom with glasses popped into my head. Oh. That's not bad at all…Maybe he's a horn-rimmed glasses guy, maybe more classic chic,

....

Okay, she's definitely thinking about me in glasses, now. I had no intent on telling her the grandpa glasses were fully in use already. Thankfully I'd only ruined my near sight from shoving my nose in books all day. I'm not sure I could survive Mav knowing I need glasses.

“I'm sure you'll look very distinguished when the day comes.” I felt her hand land on my shoulder before she walked away. Back through the two doorways to sit behind her desk. My face a little warm at the thought of someone finding my glasses attractive

My eyes dropped down to the papers in front of me. A-5 Vigilante variable geometry and their wind tunnel results. My brain goes back to running its two trains of thought. Half of my mind was focusing on the words, the other half combing through ideas to get her to come back over. I cleared my throat, leaning towards the doorway.

“There's one configuration for the A-5 that's an almost wingless design..” ___

The quiet of the archival room pressed against my ears. Layers of paper and cardboard softening the outside world as it slips through the roof and chatters along the metal I-beams.

“Weh, Wil, WILLIAMS! James E.,” my shout of triumph cut through the silence like a knife careening through a window. Pulling down the box I gently laid the cassettes and CDs onto a new cardboard divider and closed the box. My eyes cast around the large, quiet room as I gathered up the box to put it away. The desk by the door, the foldout steel chair looking morose and empty. He’d even pushed it back in. The magnifying glass neatly tucked against the wall. I hadn't had anyone come into records just to read for leisure in a few months. Mostly older sailors coming in on a slow day to peruse photographs and battle plans. I huffed and pushed the box onto the shelf and headed back to my office.

My open notebook caught my attention as I sat back down, Dinner w/ Tom circled in red on the 14th. The day before catching my eye, Friday 13th, making me smile. If I made it through that BBQ would be a nice reward for not getting murdered.

…

“Lieutenant Kazansky to tower, pre-flight checklist complete, awaiting orders.”

“Acknowledged, await further instructions,” the operator’s voice took on a less professional tone as she continued, “Get comfy, Ice, the engineers are still checking the runway for debris.” A jet had come in after hitting some birds and had left some nasty gifts for the ground crews, no one was injured thankfully. I shoved my head back as much as the crowded cockpit would let me. I'd gladly spend all day in my jet but for God's sake usually I was flying. I felt Slider jostle around behind me as he sat forward in his seat.

“Since we have some time to ourselves, let me tell you about that blonde, Rachel,” Slider said, his mask clunking against my chair.

“Is this the dumb one or the pretty dumb one?” I joked, remembering the two from last week. We'd gone to a bar far enough off base that the girls were excited to see a pilot but not total tag chasers. Slider had spent the night with a blonde on each arm like he was weighing his decision on who to stick with me. He was a hell of a RIO, and a decent wingman. Meaning he'd figure out fast if I wanted a girl that night and happily take home both if I didn't.

“Ha-Ha. Condescending laugh. She was plenty smart, works as a receptionist for some big company. Likes old planes. Anyway, she's got a friend, a stewardesses, coming in to visit next week who just adores the strong silent type. Said she'd love to set you up on a double date with us.”

“She sounds less like a hit it and quit it and more like a date, Slider,” I joked. He huffed and sat back in his seat. I waited for him to say some snappy comeback.

“Slider?...She was a one nighter, right?”

“...”

“Oh-ho-ho, Cupid landed a shot last night? That's great Slide, why the hell'd ya keep it from me?” Slider wasn't some chauvinistic prick who'd rather die than say he gets the warm fuzzies.

“Well, she was, a one night, ya'know. I spent the night-,” “Nice.” “I was going to head back home but she offered to order some food and we started talking. Then in the morning she said there was a nice brunch place on the way back to the bar. Her car is cool too, shitty driver though. It just kinda smacked into me, she's so cool, man. I was like some dopey highschooler, cracking jokes and being terrified I'd annoy her somehow.”

“You? Annoy someone? Impossible, you only chew all your pencils and think out loud, have awful hygiene…” I joked, Slider pushing against my chair, before continuing. “I'd love to meet her, blind double date be damned.”

“Tower to Lieutenants, clear to proceed to the runway.”

…

This sucked. Okay not suck-sucks, but I was getting tired of this E-3 and his adherence to Not Helping Me. The wobbly stool was not helping me either, threatening to tip over as I grabbed boxes from the top shelf. He had been courteous when he’d told me what he needed from the archives, though his kindness ended there. Letting me climb up and down to retrieve the hefty boxes.

“Why weren’t you given a ladder? Shouldn’t there be a ladder just for this room?” he asked, shifting the boxes next to him with his foot. He reached up and steadied my back as I climbed down.

“No, there isn’t. The building flooded a few years back and it rusted. Now, we have stools.” I dusted down my shirt and took the box from him. “S’That everything? Good.” GET OUT. He pulled a smile and lead the way out. Catching the door with his shoulder and nodding me past.

I dropped the box I was holding in his arms (probably harder than I should given the contents), pulled a smile, and went to my office. “Thank you, Ma'm. I'll be sure to get these back to you, all papers present.” He flashed a grin and adjusted the boxes to keep them stacked.

“Hope this isn’t the only trip you take over here,” the receptionist, (Katy, no Kathy?) said, pushing her chair back to get the main doors.

“Oh, I don’t think my CO will ever stop sending me here, ‘course you could always come see me.”

I pulled my door closed to avoid hearing them flirt. Kathy (I’ve decided that had to be it) liked uniforms more than the person in them, always chasing around the sailors who’d recently been stationed here. I sat back in my chair with a sigh, trying to calm myself. I shouldn’t be upset. That E-3 wasn’t doing anything wrong. I had no real reason to be annoyed with him. A small flush of guilt spread up my neck. I hated being mad, I hated losing control over myself, I hated how people treated me like a child when I got upset. I blew out a breath, leaned forward, and started typing in the logged out materials.

…

My keys slid into the lock as I shoved my body weight against it. I dropped my bag inside the door, and scooped up my basil plant. The door clicked shut behind me, shutting out the last bit of light. The light of Boski’s tank barely lit up the room as I walked over to him. Boski, my comet goldfish, stared in my general direction from his tank as he swam slowly around. I watched with a small smile as he passed under the sign I hung above his cave, “Lord Byron Boksilous the Spacious”.

“Well, Boski-nova, I had a very boring day, I don’t know how you manage.” I sat down on the floor then let my body fall flat on the carpet. I really did like this job, the hours were fine, pay was decent. My dad had told me stories about how good it was to be contracted by the military in some way. While I wasn’t directly contracted I still had nice benefits.

“Only reason they're so good is no one else is there. It’s one of the largest on base repositories and they hired one person, Boski.” The hand I had raised to make my point clear to Boski flopped down beside me.

“One, angry, lonely person…” Drowning in a little pity pool sounded like a good ending to this day. I layed there watching the reflections of the tank on the walls.

…

My truck's engine rumbled against my back as I stood across from Cary in some hotel parking lot. I’d driven her back after Slider went home with Rachel again, leaving Cary to get a cab. She’d hesitantly accepted my offer to drive her and I’d spent the whole time salvaging my image. It'd been a rocky start to our double date. I spent a good while getting back into the swing of flirting. Cary’d spent the date flicking her attention from me to the first round college game over my shoulder. Slider was right, the two women did enjoy aviation talk. We'd regaled them with training tales and finished with our great tale of flying with Mav, I embellished his prowess for the night, no use adding to his reputation. Now, she stood a few feet away smoking under a half-alive lamppost, the sickly green light making her dress look a weird ocean blue.

“Are you leaving or do you wanna come up?” She’d been smoking in silence for so long I jumped a little. Her eyes were locked on me, her expression was fixed between boredom and bedroom eyes. Or just tired. She’d told me how little sleep she got when she worked, catching a few hours in a cramped hotel room with three other girls. I weighed my options, the evening was awkward and she wasn’t as nice as Rachel was. She wasn’t bratty, she just didn’t care to work around feelings. Preferring to speak as frankly as she could without being overly rude. She was hot, pretty tall, and seemed to have gotten over my rocky start.

She walked to the hotel door and threw away her cigarette, standing by the side entrance. I opened my truck's cab, turned the engine off and put the key in my jacket. My legs carried me to her side as she opened the door, leading me inside.

The door’s lock clicks closed softly

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 2

Galas Aren't as Exciting as They Seem... Or Are They?

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 4.4k

Warnings: adult language; mild canon-typical violence; use of the slur "wh*re" as a misogynistic insult by an antagonist

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Maree threw herself wholeheartedly into her research, pulling up vast numbers of mission logs, casualty reports, individual trooper records, and personnel files and beginning to arrange the resulting mountains of text into some semblance of order. She was frankly delighted to have such an opportunity. As she’d indicated to Kix, her area of study was not exactly a popular one. 

Most of the military history research requests the library received were for earlier periods, particularly the High Republic era. People wanted to learn about the thrilling, inspiring histories of the Jedi, not melancholy reminders of one of the darkest periods in Republic history. This New Republic was very young and more interested in emulating the successes of the Galactic Republic than scrutinizing its failures. 

Beyond that, the galaxy was slow to forget that the Clone Wars had ushered in the Empire. The New Republic’s demilitarization policy was a direct result of the belief that a standing army had caused the downfall of the Republic. The clones were a convenient scapegoat, but they had merely been a catalyst for the war. 

Maree believed firmly in the adage that those who neglected to learn from history were doomed to repeat it, and thus she had spent her entire career studying the events that led to the fall of the Galactic Republic and the rise of the Empire. The interplanetary tensions that had been building for decades before the first battle of Geonosis plunged the galaxy into war were not so different from the ones currently fracturing the New Republic. To ignore the similarities was to risk replicating the missteps that led to the rise of the Empire.

Due to the discomfort with which the general population regarded the Clone Wars, it was uncommon for the library to receive a research request that provided Maree with an opportunity to lead a project of her own. Instead, most of her research efforts were either requisitioned by the New Republic Judiciary or conducted in support of her colleagues who specialized in the more approachable eras of galactic history. She also had substantial administrative responsibilities that monopolized a huge portion of her working hours. The result was that, while Maree was a busy and valued member of the archival staff, she often found herself rather unfulfilled in her work, though she did appreciate the opportunities provided by the library to further her own research when she was not assigned to another project.

She spent the next few days reviewing and summarizing, staying in her office late into the evenings, well after the rest of the archival staff had departed. The resulting report was extensive and thoroughly depressing. The Clone Wars period was tragic from beginning to end, but the last few months of the conflicts were particularly grueling and devastating. Vast numbers of casualties; system after system falling to the Separatists; and, of course, the ultimate fall of the Republic. It was hardly a surprise that nobody wanted to spend their time learning about such unrelenting darkness.

Well, nobody except Kix, she thought. She had wondered why he was interested in this particular period, but discretion and client confidentiality took precedence over her curiosity, and candidly, she was not about to lose such a rare opportunity by asking questions that might alienate the man. Still, as she reviewed the individual trooper records, she was struck by Kix’s physical resemblance to the clones. That was why he’d seemed familiar at first, she realized, though his beard had initially disguised the likeness. She wondered if his father—or perhaps his grandfather—had been a clone. It would be unusual, but not unheard-of, for a clone to father a child. The Kaminoans were reported to have sterilized the clone troopers, but unconfirmed birth records had fueled speculation that at least some of the sterilization procedures had been unsuccessful. If Kix were the descendent of a clone, that could explain his interest in the war.

There was another possibility, of course. One that was almost too far-fetched to consider, and yet Maree found herself wondering if perhaps somehow, a clone might have survived all these decades. The galaxy was a strange place, and it wouldn’t be the first time that something seemingly impossible had happened. But the likelihood of such a thing was infinitesimal, and Maree was a practical woman. There had to be a more reasonable explanation.

By Benduday evening, Maree had compiled enough material that it would likely take several days to review it all, and given that she was likely to have even more potential research topics after her meeting with Kix the next day, she decided to leave the office an hour early and get a decent night’s rest for the first time that week. Most of her day had been taken up by advisory sessions with the department interns, and she could feel the beginnings of what promised to be a spectacular headache. She wanted nothing more than a large glass of whiskey, a long shower, and an early bedtime.

It was not to be. As she gathered her things and prepared to leave, Teejay entered her office, bearing a large bouquet of hothouse flowers.

“Ah, Dr. Finnall. Are you departing early to prepare for the gala?”

“The gala?” Marree asked blankly.

“Oh, yes! Dr. Denau has been most eager to accompany you to the Galactic Library Foundation gala. He just had these delivered.”

Maree cursed under her breath. She must have had a temporary lapse in sanity when she’d agreed to attend the gala as Denau’s date.

“What time does the gala start, Teejay?” she asked.

“I believe the festivities begin at 1930 hours, but the note accompanying the flowers requests that you join Dr. Denau at 1830 hours for drinks. How romantic!”

The droid was entirely too enthusiastic for its own good. Maree glanced at the chronometer on the wall and silently cursed again.

“Please let Dr. Denau know that I’ve been held up on some unexpected business and I won’t be able to join him for cocktails, but I’m looking forward to seeing him at the gala. Then please call Capital Couture and let them know I’ll be stopping by the atelier in an hour. Send them the dress code for the gala and have them select three options in my size. They know my taste, and I’m confident they will be able to accommodate me.”

“Yes, Dr. Finnall. Would you like me to book Jafan Orden for a hair appointment as well?”

“No time. The stylist droid at home will have to be good enough. But please do have takeout delivered to my home at 1830. Library benefits never seem to provide any food more substantial than appetizers, and you know how I get when I miss a meal.”

“I believe ‘hangry’ was the term Intern Dara used,” the droid said primly. “I will inform Capitol Couture that it would be wise to provide a selection of snacks in the fitting room.”

“Remind me to give you a raise,” Maree said.

“Perhaps you should be reminded instead that I am property of the New Republic and thus do not earn a salary,” Teejay replied.

“Fine, book yourself an oil bath on my account. You’re the best.” 

Maree blew the droid a kiss and headed for the door.

Kriff, I hate these things, Maree thought for perhaps the thirtieth time that evening. Though the New Republic funded the Core Library on Hosnian Prime in its entirety, it provided only sixty percent of the funding for the library’s mid- and outer-rim campuses. The Galactic Library Foundation was integral in raising funds to cover the remainder of the budget, and events like this were among its most successful campaigns. Tickets were eye-wateringly expensive and sold out months in advance. And of course, there were plenty more opportunities for donors to spend their credits at the events as well.

It was expected that the library’s senior staff would appear at these events to mingle with the donors and encourage them to open their pocketbooks. Maree understood the importance of these events and was committed to doing her part to support the underserved satellite libraries. That didn’t mean she enjoyed it.

At that particular moment, doing her part meant she was hiding gritted teeth behind a pleasant smile as she listened to the wildly uninformed and borderline offensive ramblings of a major donor. She bit back the urge to recommend that the man spend some time in the library outside of benefit events. She had a feeling the Foundation director would be slightly displeased if Maree called the donor an ignoramus to his face.

Meanwhile, Rik Denau hovered by her side, much closer than Maree would have liked. The man was relentless. His sexual antics were the subject of frequent gossip among the archival staff, and it appeared that he had now set his sights on Maree. She could only assume he had exhausted all his other amorous possibilities in the department. Either that, or his ego inspired him to pursue Maree, who had been quite public in her disinterest in workplace romantic entanglements. Either way, he had been after her for weeks to attend the gala with him, and she had finally agreed, if only to get him to stop pestering her about it. He had spent the evening glued to her side, plying her with drinks and flattery, both of which she evaded with subtle dexterity.

Denau laughed a little too loudly at something the donor said and sidled even closer to Maree, settling a hand on her lower back. She felt her jaw clench even harder and forced herself not to let her smile slip. 

“Well, we are all so grateful for your continued support,” Denau was saying in an obsequious tone. “Aren’t we, Dr. Finnall?”

“Yes, your generosity has been vital to the library’s ongoing services in the more remote sectors of the galaxy,” Maree said diplomatically. “The Foundation is most appreciative.”

She posed with Denau and the donor for a few publicity holos and then excused herself. She’d spotted a hapless intern ensnared in the conversational web of a notorious lecher who was regrettably also a major benefactor of the library. Maree subtly steered the young Togruta away from the donor and whispered a quick warning. 

“I thought the east wing was named after him,” the intern said, surprised.

“It is,” Maree replied under her breath. “His contributions are generous enough to encourage the library administration to pretend not to know about his behavior.”

Stars, the night was never going to end. She already regretted her choice of footwear, but she hadn’t had time to have her gown altered and had reluctantly selected a pair of impractically high heels to keep the fabric from puddling on the floor. She headed to the bar to order a drink that Denau hadn’t had an opportunity to touch. As she waited, she mentally calculated how much longer she needed to stay at the gala in order to not be reprimanded by the Foundation’s director when she heard a low, familiar voice at her shoulder.

“Hello, Dr. Finnall.”

She turned, and her breath caught when she saw Kix. He was standing quite close to her, and even in her heels, she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He’d exchanged his mundane clothing for a formal suit. The tailoring was austere, but the deep, vibrant teal fabric suited him admirably, and she was not the only one who noticed, judging by the appraising glances directed at him by several bystanders.

“Kix, what an unexpected pleasure,” she said. “You didn’t mention you would be attending the gala.”

“It was a last-minute decision,” he said.

She raised her eyebrows slightly. He must have either incredibly deep pockets or remarkably powerful connections to secure a last-minute ticket. She wondered why, exactly, he had opted to attend.

“I’m pleased you could join us,” she replied. “Can I get you a drink?”

“Already have one,” he said, lifting a bottle of ale.

With uncannily good timing, the bartender pushed a glass of sparkling wine across the bar to Maree.

“And now, so do I,” she smiled. “Cheers.”

He clinked his bottle to her wine glass and took a long drink.

“Shall we find somewhere a little less crowded?” she asked.

“Lead the way.”

Kix had been surprised to receive a message from Sidon Ithano two days previously. It had been brief: a ticket to some charity event at the library and a recommendation for a tailor in Republic City. The pirate captain was keeping tabs on his activity, then. Not very subtle, but at least it wasn’t an overt threat. Kix had explored Hosnian Prime a bit since his meeting with Dr. Finnall, but since he had nothing better to do to pass the time until his appointment, he decided to attend the gala.

For some reason, it had not occurred to him that the lovely archivist was likely to attend as well, which was why, when he turned to identify the source of an obnoxiously loud laugh, his brain stuttered to a halt. She was there. Standing next to the Loud One. She was wearing a backless blue gown of sheer draped shimmersilk, and her hair was styled in an elaborate updo. She looked even more enchanting than he had remembered. They were talking to some mogul in a fancy robe, and as Kix watched the trio, the Loud One laid a proprietary hand on the archivist’s bare lower back. Kix swallowed the bitterness at the back of his throat. He shouldn’t be surprised. Of course she would already have a partner. How could she not?

His thoughts had strayed to her often over the past days. He’d thought of her expressive eyes and warm smile, but also of the line of her neck, the delicate shell of her ear, the impossibly long eyelashes that fanned along her cheek when she raised her gaze to meet his. He didn’t delude himself that a woman like that would be interested in a man like him. She was the total package: intelligent, sophisticated, successful, kind, and beautiful. And he was—what? A former soldier and a current pirate. Outer-Rim trash scavenged from the galactic scrapheap. He had nothing to offer her that could compare to her luxurious life in the capital, attending glamorous parties and mingling with the elite citizens of the New Republic.

Self-loathing flooded him. He began to turn away, ready to leave the gala and find some seedy cantina where he could lose himself at the bottom of a bottle of cheap booze, when he saw her shift subtly away from her handsy companion’s touch. Hope sparked, fierce and immediate. He couldn’t hear their conversation, but the trio shifted to pose for a hologram, and then the archivist seamlessly extricated herself from the conversation. She wove through the room, pausing to chat with a few other small groups, and when she headed for the bar, Kix saw his opening. As he approached her, he permitted himself a moment of weakness as he admired the graceful line of her exposed back.

“Hello, Dr. Finnall,” he said.

She turned, and when she swept an appreciative glance over him, he silently thanked Ithano for referring him to the tailor. The captain had a flair for the dramatic, and while Kix had choked at the tailor’s exorbitant prices, he was glad he’d gone through with it. He had a hoard of credits from his share of the pirate crew’s earnings over the past year, and not much else to spend it on. Based on Dr. Finnall’s reaction, the suit had been worth every decicred.

After exchanging pleasantries, she laid her hand lightly on his arm and led him smoothly through the crowd.

“I probably shouldn’t admit this, but these benefits are my least favorite part of the job,” Maree said. “I’ve never been fond of loud, crowded spaces. They make me feel like the walls are closing in.”

“Then why attend them?” Kix asked.

“I’m required to,” she said matter-of-factly. “The donors like to feel they’re getting their credits’ worth. No offense intended, of course.”

“None taken,” Kix replied, unsure of why she’d felt the need to add the caveat. “So the Library makes you attend these events so you can be professionally charming and convince donors to open their pocketbooks even wider?”

“More or less,” Maree acknowledged. “Though some events are far more pleasant than others.”

She shot him a dazzling smile, and Kix felt a little disoriented, unsure of whether their conversation merely fell under the umbrella of professionally charming. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the flash of a holocam, but by the time he located the source, the photographer had already scurried away to find other victims for their publicity photos. Eventually, Kix and Maree reached a smaller room where the conversation was quieter and the party goers were clustered into only a few small groups. 

“This is where the staff come to hide when the socializing gets to be too much. There’s a reason we all became archivists, and it’s not because of our scintillating personalities,” she said with a mischievous look that made her eyes twinkle.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he promised.

“Oh, this isn’t the real secret,” she said. “The real hideout is a carefully guarded location known only to my most trusted friends.”

“Oh?” he asked. “And how does one gain access to this prestigious group, Dr. Finnall?”

“I asked you to call me Maree,” she reminded him.

Her eyes flickered to a movement at the door, and she winced. Kix glanced over and spotted the Loud One entering the room.

“I am susceptible to bribery,” she said.

Kix shot her an inquisitive look. “What did you have in mind?”

“Flirt with me,” she said.

“I thought that’s what I was doing,” he replied, taking her hand and trailing his thumb over the sensitive skin of her inner wrist.

“Flirt harder.”

He leaned in with a crooked smile. Under his thumb, he felt her pulse leap as he ghosted his lips over her ear.

“You don’t have to tell me twice,” he whispered.

She let out a tiny breath, and he tugged her wrist gently, pulling her body closer to him. She smelled incredible, and he wanted to bury his face in her hair. She turned her head to face him, her eyes glazed and soft. His gaze dropped to her lips and his hand rose almost unconsciously to caress her jaw. Before he could move to kiss her, though, they were interrupted by the sound of a pointed cough. They broke apart, and Kix saw that the Loud One was the culprit. He tamped down his irritation, remembering that their near-kiss had been a performance for this fool’s benefit.

“Maree, who’s your friend?” the Loud One asked.

“Rik, I didn’t see you there,” she lied.

Her voice was slightly hoarse, and Kix huffed a silent, victorious laugh. The not-a-kiss may have been a performance, but her response to it was real.

“Clearly,” Rik the Loud One said in a peevish tone.

“This is Kix,” Maree said. “He’s a research client and, as you can tell from his presence here, a significant benefactor to the library.”

Wait, what? Kix thought. Abruptly, he wondered exactly how Ithano had acquired his ticket. And then, with a sinking in his gut, he realized that Maree thought he was one of those donors whom she was contractually obligated to charm.

“Have you forgotten that you are my date?” Rik demanded.

“Rik, you know I don’t date coworkers,” she said.

“No, you are obviously after bigger fish. How much did you donate to secure her company?” he sneered at Kix.

Kix stiffened. Maree might only be indulging him because she was required to, but he would not stand by while this fragging conduit worm spewed venom at her. Maree, however, did not require a knight in plastoid armor.

“That is wildly unprofessional and inappropriate, Dr. Denau,” she said icily. She did not raise her voice in the slightest, but she enunciated her words crisply, and they carried through the room. A few of the other groups turned to listen. “I will be submitting a harassment report to the director. I suggest you leave before you dig yourself a deeper pit.”

“No one is going to believe you,” Denau snarled. “You came here as my date. Everyone saw us together. I’ll say it was just a lover’s spat.”

She laughed harshly. “Only in your wildest fantasies. What everyone saw was you groping me like a hormonal teenager while I dropped you as soon as I had the chance. Leave now, and I’ll note in my report that you were drunk. Maybe they’ll go easy on you.”

“You fucking whore,” Denau spat, lunging at Maree.

Kix snapped into action instinctively. He thrust his body between Maree and Denau, blocking the blow that was aimed for her face. His fist struck out like lightning, slamming into Denau’s jaw and dropping the archivist where he stood. A few gasps rang out through the room, and a tall Pantoran woman rushed to intervene.

“Dr. Finnall, are you all right?” she asked.

“I’m fine, Dr. Corruss,” Maree replied. “He didn’t hit me.”

“I’ve already paged the security droids,” Dr. Corruss said. “They’ll be along shortly to remove Dr. Denau from the premises. Thank you for your quick action, Mr…”

“Kix,” he supplied.

“Are you injured, Mr. Kix?” Dr. Corruss asked. “I can call a medical droid.”

“No need,” Kix said, reflecting that Denau had possibly been the least intimidating foe he’d encountered in his short, brutal life.

“This is going to cause so much paperwork,” Maree sighed.

“No doubt the Foundation director will want to keep this quiet,” Dr. Corruss said. “The security droids will want to take statements from all the witnesses, but I’m sure the official report can wait until morning. I’ll have the droids take Denau out the side exit so it doesn’t interrupt the gala.”

“I’m sorry to have caused trouble for you,” Kix said.

“Not at all,” Dr. Corruss replied with a charming smile. “Denau was the aggressor. We all saw it. He struck first, and you, hmm—How shall I put it in the official report? ‘Heroically de-escalated the situation.’”

“He de-escalated Denau’s jaw,” said a wiry, bespectacled Zabrak man who joined the group. “Been wanting to do that for a while.”

Kix liked the newcomer immediately.

Dr. Corruss tsked. “So pugnacious, Dr. Tane.”

“The security feeds will confirm Denau was at fault, but the museum will want to cover its ass,” said Dr. Tane. “Now they’ll finally have the justification to fire that parasite.”

Another man joined them, a Human with a pinched face, and he looked at Maree with an expression of intense dislike.

“Dr. Finnall, your companion’s behavior was unacceptable,” he said scornfully.

Kix bristled. “Are you suggesting I should have let him hit her?”

“I am suggesting that fisticuffs are unbefitting these sacred walls,” the man said.

Dr. Corruss and Dr. Tane rolled their eyes simultaneously.

“Thank you for sharing your concerns, Dr. Harik,” Maree said wearily. 

“Be sure to repeat them to the security droids,” Dr. Tane added. “I can’t wait to mock your report with the director. ‘Fisticuffs’? ‘Sacred halls’? Really?”

Harik sputtered and stormed away.

“What’s with him?” Kix asked.

“He sees himself as Maree’s professional nemesis,” Dr. Tane said.

“He has delusions of adequacy,” Dr. Corruss sniffed.

Kix stifled a laugh. This gala was far more entertaining than he’d expected.

“They exaggerate,” Maree said. “Though he has held a grudge since he found out I was a member of the review panel that rejected his last paper.”

“Shoddy double-blinding on the journal’s behalf,” Dr. Tane grumbled.

“And for that, he thought you deserved a punch in the face?” Kix asked. “Sounds like he needs to go outside these sacred halls every once in a while.”

The security droids arrived and removed Denau, then circulated to take statements from everyone in the room. They worked quickly, on strict orders not to draw attention from the rest of the gala guests. Once Kix and Maree had given their statements to the security droids, Maree slipped out of the room with Kix in tow. She made a beeline for the bar and leaned behind it to snag two bottles, passing one to Kix after a quick wave at the bartender.

“Friend of yours?” Kix asked.

“More like a partner in crime,” she said. “He’s suffered through almost as many of these parties as I have. Come with me.”

Once they were clear of the crowd around the bar, Kix attempted to apologize once more for disrupting her evening, but she cut him off before he could get more than a few words out.

“No need to apologize,” she said. “That’s more excitement than most of us have had in years. Academics are not the liveliest bunch, you know.”

She tugged him out another doorway and into a long corridor. She stopped abruptly and kicked off her high heels.

“Thank the gods,” she breathed, sighing with relief as she flexed her bare feet.

She bent and snagged her shoes by the straps, then resumed her progress.

“Come on,” she hurried him. “We’re not in the clear yet.”

They exited the corridor into a vast room filled with shelves upon shelves of texts and datapads, but she did not stop. At the opposite end of the room, she led him through an unobtrusive door and into yet another corridor. She took a left, then two rights, another left, and then passed through one final doorway that led to a broad staircase. He followed her down it, and once he reached the bottom, his jaw dropped.

“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” she asked.

Kix gazed around the cavernous space. It was dark outside, and he could see the moon through the transparisteel roof. The room itself was softly illuminated by colored spotlights, and as far as he could see, it was filled with lush, flourishing plants.

“What is this place?” he asked, awed.

“It’s my secret hideout,” she grinned. “The Galactic Botanical Archive. There are plant specimens from all over the galaxy here. It’s the library’s greenhouse.”

She was standing barefoot in her formal gown, shoes in one hand and a bottle of sparkling wine in the other, and Kix had never seen a more captivating sight in his life.

“Pretty amazing,” he agreed.

She held up the bottle of wine. “Wanna get kriffed up?”

---

Chapter 3

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar

[archivyrep]

Is Peridot an unintentional archivist, records manager, or something else entirely? [Part 1]

Peridot, shown in her debut episode "Warp Tour," making a log of her trip to Earth and what she saw while she was there.

So, I recently began rewatching Steven Universe, starting at season 1, and I realized even more archival themes than what I had previously concluded, beginning with one of the characters, Peridot. Some readers may remember I wrote about Steven Universe before, at the beginning of this year, noting the presence of VCRs, their preservation, other records within the series, the special library of Buddy Buddwick, and archival records used in defense of Steven at his trial, to name a few aspects.

Reprinted from my Wading Through the Cultural Stacks WordPress blog. Originally published on Dec. 2, 2021.

However, I was mainly relying on memory in writing that post, and its different once you begin watching a series again. As such, this post will be focused on one specific character, Peridot, and whether she is an unintentional archivist, records manager, or something else entirely in the series as a whole. Warning here that this post will give spoilers for part of the show.

In episodes within seasons 1 and 2 of Steven Universe, Peridot often records her progress with Gem experimentation and the cluster on her "finger screens." She is first shown making logs in her debut episode [Warp Tour] and makes another log in the episode "Keeping it Together," before Steven, and his friends, the Crystal Gems, chase her across the Prime Kindergarten. [1] Unfortunately, her screens and limb enhancements are thrown into the water in the episode "Catch and Release" by Amethyst. In the following episode, "When it Rains," she tells Steven she doesn't know anything without her screen and tells him that all her logs up to a certain date are backed up in the Prime Kindergarten. She also tells Steven she read over a few hundred years of reports and displays her records which show many attempts at artificial fusion, prototypes for an artificial fusion that would have destroyed the Earth, the Cluster.

Following this, she gets an audio tape recorder, making logs for her life on Earth, her experiences, her attempts to get along with the Crystal Gems (Amethyst, Garnet, and Pearl), and more. [2] This until the episode "Barn Mates" when Lapis destroys it after Peridot gifts it to her in hopes of becoming friends with her. The audio tape recorder becomes an important part of her character development as she adapts to living on Earth rather than living on Homeworld. In the process, you could say that the recordings that Peridot does are archival records.

As I noted in my previous post about Steven Universe on this blog, Peridot notes that she had backed up her logs before, finding information on  Gem fragments from reports. In the episode "It Could've Been Great" she goes through an old Gem computer system to find information about the cluster, Gem locations, and the planned Earth colony. The question remains, is Peridot an archivist, albeit unintentionally? That is what I want to answer in the rest of this post, divided into two parts. The second part will be published tomorrow.

© 2022 Burkely Hermann. All rights reserved.

Notes

[1] Peri is using communication devices in "Friend Ship" as well.

[2] This shown in the episodes "Log Date 7 5 12" and "Barn Mates" for instance.

[anthros-vanitas-archive]

#CalmWriMo Week 2 (13-19)

Hello, once again. Another week of steady progress into the goals for the Archives and the archivist themselves. It was a pretty busy week but regardless there were a ton of work that has been done since.

Here's is now the log on this week Archives writing goals.

Writing goals.

Just like the past week I try my best to write everyday into the progress of The Eternal Throne, but like last week progress had some mixed results.

Current Word Count: 14080

The majority of this progress has been made because I participated in a really cool Write-In event held in the @writeblrcafe discord server (which was pretty awesome to be part of ^^)

Translating has also been stayed into a halt for some personal reasons but nothing to worry about.

As some of you might have seen, there's already some books being thrown around in the halls of the Archives but no need to worry they're just being categorize, rearrange and organize for the future. You can find everything in this Masterlist for you to explore and for the archivist to not been so lost in their own archives.

Self-care goals.

It has been a slow but steady progress into going back to running each week. But progress has been made, despite having a pretty busy week that made me feel so tired, I'm already looking forward to next week run.

Taking care of my health has also been pretty chill since last week 'bad start' so that's an improvement already.

Sleep schedule has been a mess honestly but hoping next week could be a little bit better.

In general the week didn't feel that strong at the start but the planning of last week, combine with my sudden participation of this event really helped a lot in regards to the progress made on the goals this week. Not a lot of planning for next week but we'll see how everything works out. So that was it for this actualization, see you next week! There's some scattered notes in need to be sorted out, take care and remember: Memento Mori.

[askivyalexandria]

Log Entry Earth Date 29/1/2023-18/2/2023:

Hello, it has been awhile, has it not? Well, here a horrible attempt at a log of what happened over the past two weeks. I am sure there is a lot missing.

“holy shit that's a long time”

“holy fucking bingle”

“Gwen died” (there are two celebration emoji reactions to this message)

“anyway i have gay things to attend to yall have fun with this (saying what to put on the log) for awhile”

“uhhhhh gwen lyfra hangout??”

“Scuzz and gwen besties time”

“gal*entine's day!” “YEAH!”

“also beta and scuzz being in love /p”

Scout Captain Alice Liddell made a blog.

“Mono contracted the spflu”

“oh yeah. lyfra and val got galahad, then alice, then sigyn. they got a robot from marius.”

“val and galahad are fruity”

“it was gay time in general I think some other gay shit happened”

“marius and lyfrassir talked gayly”

“gay week on and off the blogs frfr” "I'm not elaborating"

“Alice made radio contact, got rescued, made a few friends, and has now knit a scarf.”

“Marius gay posting, cat posting, and glass onion posting.”

“Marius came out as a catboy”

“Heracles listened to TBI and has not finished it. freaked the fuck out when he heard Ashes’ voice he also has a cat bug now”

“big doggy has entered the ship”

“Cerberus has met so many people. including Alice and Cinders, who are their best friends now”

“Cerberus killed Gwen” (celebration emoji)

“Ashes big sibling momence (moments). like a lot (of) stew and speggrolls were made”

“Ashes lost a necklace that was really important to them for a few days. TS 2 brought it back to them (:”

“oh rose exists”

“For Valentine's Day Marius gave Lyfrassir armor.”

Adding to that, Marius gave Valentine’s Day presents to his love interests.

“tim mostly reblogged sooooooooo many cats” “some anons moved a bunch of her bones around”

“oh yeah tim got drunk like a week ago and scuzz put hir to bed and also ze found a cat who scuzz took care of and they (scuzz and the cat) watched bbc sherlock”

“there was the whole... marius rescue sigyn mission where tim got a bit upset at marius for a while”

“tim n marius watched mamma mia and marius was dared to spoil it”

“also marius said i love u (to Tim)”

Tag List under cut:

Tag List (Ask to be added):

@monggay @deadcaptainn @inspectorlyfra @honey-beesknees @l3monbunny @bookworm-girl2002 @toy--soldier @eternaljunkyard @delta-val @floor-archivist

[turtlethebean]

Introducing the OCs for my new CC AU/Fanseries: Part Angus (final part)

For picrews, see part Michelle

Spoilers under cut.

Name: Angus Addison

Aliases:

Ang (Michelle)

Age: 39

Birthday: 14th of February 1998

Origin: Ocean Shore, Pacific Bay

Gender: Transgender male

Pronouns: He/they

Sexuality: Bisexual

Family:

Alexis Addison (Triplet Sibling)

Adanna Addison (Triplet Sister)

Freddo Addison (Sibling-in-law)

Unnamed Mothers

Height: 5 foot 2

Blood type: A-

Title: Archivist

Backstory:

Angus doesn't remember much of his life before Cyberspace. He remembers being a college student studying business. However, it is assumed that he dropped out.

It is unknown how Angus ended up in Cyberspace, but his siblings appear to be...surprised when they meet him.

Songs to describe them:

Amnesia was her name by Lemon Demon

Darkness Before The Dawn by Caleb Hyles and Lucey Sturm

Left for Dead by Ksenia Lewis

Grief by Dead & Loving It

As Above So Below by K-Modo

World's Smallest Violin by AJR

Puppet Boy by DEVO

Benzos by Grace Blue

In One Breath by Caleb Hyles

Copycat by CircusP

Trivia:

They have schizophrenia and depression

Like the Knight family, Angus has never been seen to log off.

[pretty-nobody]

[Archive Drop #2: Twins of Old & Names]

ARCHIVIST FOREWORD

Hello again. I missed writing these archives so much, I didn’t even recognize that the day had yet to change. This planet is so different compared to Katia. I wonder if I’ll ever feel at home ever again.

Nevermind, I’m going off topic. The Twins of Old are exactly what they sound like, but let me explain them a little more. This is an archive after all. May Vitara protect us all.

TWINS OF OLD

Every Era, a new set of twins are ‘born’. Not exactly, but that’s for another archive. These twins were the saviors of Katia. Any disaster that may occur, the twins must stop.

Is it a horrible system? Yes. They’re never old enough. They are traumatized each and every time. But the Divines get bored sometimes, and they pay the price for all of us. May eternal slumber be their only friend.

NAMES: TWINS OF OLD [DROP 1]

Names are hard to come by. Sure, they’re told in stories, but how much can we really trust to be the truth? Whatever, here’s what I recovered.

Katie & Kennedy

Vika & Vima

Yeah. That’s it. I’m logging this as [DROP 1] because I trust that I’ll find more in the future. Short entry, but not much to say.

______________________________________________________________

Maybe we say goodbye in another universe.

PN | Katian Archivist, End of Time Herself

[oldschoolfic-ds9]

The Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway - Log 36: The Message

by NovaD, 2001

Seven decodes a personal message from Dax detailing her encounter with the mirror universe Janeway.

Words: 6082, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Rating: NC-17

Warnings: BDSM

Characters: Kathryn Janeway, Jadzia Dax, mirror!Kathryn Janeway

Relationships: mirror!Janeway/mirror!Chakotay, Kim/Paris/Seven/OFC, Janeway/Kim/Seven

Reader suggested tags (what are these?): crossover - Star Trek: Voyager, mirror universe

The Secret Logs of Mistress Janeway series: [Archivist’s note: Full series can be found at that link. We are only directly linking to the DS9 crossover fics in this series. Full Circle is an arc within the series that occasionally has DS9 crew as secondary characters.]

Log 14: Dax [VOY/DS9]

Log 36: The Message [VOY/DS9]

Log 60: Full Circle: Trade Offs [VOY/DS9/TNG]

Log 61: Full Circle: No [VOY/DS9/TNG]

Log 62: Full Circle: Meanwhile [VOY/DS9/TNG]

Log 63: Full Circle: Determination [VOY/DS9/TNG]

Log 64: Full Circle: The Fourth Estate [VOY/DS9/TNG]

links (link broken? report it and try the archive.org alternative):

trekiverse

archive.org - option 1 / option 2

[statementends]

Reply by @6-2-aestheticsofhate #tma #i saw this while on break from my work safety class and we were talking about workplace accidentsand near misses #do you think he files every single incident #imagine work place inspections at the archive #Elias voice Martin dont leave an extension cord like that on the ground #its a tripping hazard #<- says that while he Knows theres worms in the walls. /reply

This is exactly what he does.

Elias: Jon I'm afraid we can't log the Jude Perry incident as work related as you were doing extracurricular unsanctioned related work at the time.

The Archivist: ...I didn't try to file an incident report about it?

Elias: I took the liberty. It was denied, but thank you for bringing up issues of safety in the work place.

The Archivist: ... Is this to avoid potential workers com-

Elias: have a good day Jon 😊

That's right I murdered two people and if you kill me everyone tied to the institute will die. Now Jon be a dear and fill out this Return to Work form. Don't worry about the doctor's note. Elias Bouchard really is that kind of bureaucrat huh.

[bsamh-archive]

Surgeon’s Log: day 17 of VR therapy testing Subject 2 can be found wearing a cowbell (🔔) today, so keep your ears alert! I’d also advise that you keep him away from children until we figure out why they react to his presence the way they do. 🤔 Subject 35 is doing okay, today I managed to get her to hold a conversation (though it was with Dr. Boon’s surv- I mean, entertainment bot). If she tries to say anything to you, respond enthusiastically. I’m certain she’s not asking you permission to eat you or anything. 😊 Specimen 13 has begun levitating objects beside himself. First it was a scalpel, but by this point he's managed to lift a therapy dog. If you see him, make sure you have something to hold onto nearby!

-- Posted to private hospital forum by Dr. Selina Kochs [7/28/2020]

(Archivist's Note: This was posted on the same day as the previous entry. Likely done to make up for the last two entries both being a day behind.)

[sallowhillshq]

.✾. ═  welcome to sallow hills.  enjoy your stay.

i see we have a new member to our town.  welcome, welcome JOHN CONSTANTINE.  we truly hope you enjoy your stay.  please feel free to head over to bevin & cecil’s until you’re settled.  i know it might be difficult right now and you might be missing your home.  Zatanna is already here though/y, so you won’t have to be alone.

 ══   carrie we’re so excited to have your newest muse in sallow hills!  you can re-find the welcome package in the source link & if you are using side blogs, make sure we know where your character is going.

╔═.✾. ═  LOG *** :  john constantine  |  cismale, he/him  |  35 years old.

Just spotted CONSTANTINE around town.  Our records show that they remember [everything] from their source : dc comics (canon).   They were first spotted in december 2022 and our best guess is that their last memory is looking for zatanna in bloody wales.  Archivists watching them state that they still have the trenchcoats & wisecracks, the devil you know, smell of smoke & sulfur, damned if you do vibe about them.

━  from Armes E. Sallow’s  personal archives. ═.✾. ═╝ ↳・゜rahul kohli . ↳・゜carrie (she/her). 21+. central.

↳・゜give us a short para discussing how you are portraying your character / how you think they would fit into sallow hills.  this can be 2-3 sentences or more, we aren’t looking for quantity.

If ever a town could use an exorcist, demonologist, and master of the dark arts (really have to get those business cards changed), it was Sallow Hills, but to be perfectly honest, John just came here to find his girl and be on their merry way. When that fails, he might f*ck around, raise some hell (literally? maybe?), and keep working as an occult private detective for hire. God forbid he have to get a real job.

blog: hauntedconstantine