#dr doctor detritus

[vialofpyrite]

when the doctor is doctor is doctor?

[kutputli]

So @quark4561 and I have decided to reject the white agenda of IWTV, and therefore we have new ships for our beloved Louis and our (also beloved but highly problematic) Armand.

Armand will indeed have his push-and-pull, long drawn out romance with a human he is learning the 21st century from. This human will be empathic and yet with enough of a backbone to call Armand on his bullshit. He will also want to become a vampire, out of the spirit of scientific enquiry.

May we present to you, the person who rescues Armand from the detritus of the Dubai divorce - Dr. Fareed Bhansali (He's a DOCTOR. Every South Asian aunty would approve.)

You know this man has the hair game to top Armand.

Also don't worry about Louis. What he needs is the opposite of a Big Romance. He's suffered through enough theatre brats for a lifetime. He just needs a comfortable fuckbuddy with someone who is discreet, friendly, smart and the opposite of needy.

What a coincidence that Real Rashid has recently quit his undercover job due to talamasca shenangans, thus putting him in the position of being able to fuck his former boss with zero conflict of ethics.

[thefugitivesaint]

I came across this fan made documentary from 2021 on SCTV (Second City TV) that I wanted to pass along because it truly is a labor of love. Most of my childhood was the late 70s into the 1980s and one of the cultural products of my childhood was SCTV (along with Tom Baker as Doctor Who, Dr. Demento on the radio & television programs like Night Flight). What’s been crafted here is a history of SCTV told by the people who created it, in their own words, cobbled together from various sources. It’s surprisingly coherent and engaging and if you’re a fan of SCTV, it comes highly recommended.  Admittedly, this might only appeal to a limited number of you reading these words. SCTV? WTF is SCTV? First, SCTV was my first introduction to anything Canadian (the second being ‘You Can't Do That on Television‘ which basically copied the format of SCTV). Second, SCTV was also my introduction to a host of comedians when they were still young and relatively up and coming. The original cast of SCTV was John Candy, Joe Flaherty, Eugene Levy, Andrea Martin, Catherine O'Hara, Harold Ramis, and Dave Thomas. You might know some of those names now. Later cast included folk like Robin Duke (who was also on Saturday Night Live), Rick Moranis, & Martin Short. (Quick note: one of the sketches SCTV slapped together to fill up time was ‘Bob and Doug McKenzie’, characters who would become audience favorites and were given a spin-off movie in 1983 called ‘Strange Brew’.) Since I have you here, here’s a few additional items of interest that I recently absorbed into my brain through my ears and eyes: 1). Two different pieces from Defunctland, a youtube channel new to me, A) discussing and uncovering who created the Disney Channel’s four note theme that proved to be surprisingly engaging and unexpectedly poignant. B) This led me to watch another piece related to Disney from Defunctland on The Halyx, the “short-lived science fiction themed rock band developed by Disneyland Records that performed at Tomorrowland in Disneyland in 1981 at the Space Stage.” The band only got one season to exist and perform before the show was cancelled. I knew nothing about Halyx and didn’t think I would want to watch a long form piece on some passing cultural detritus from Disney (not being all that fond of Disney) Turns out, I did, in fact, want to watch a long form piece on some passing cultural detritus from Disney.  2) Another thing I didn’t think I would spend time consuming was from hbomberguy’s investigation into the “Roblox Oof“ sound. I have never spent a second playing Roblox and I have no idea why one would craft an almost two hour investigation into something so inconsequential. With that said, I watched the entire thing so I guess I have extra life to squander too. In retrospect, this Roblox piece has some relation to the above Defunctland episode on the 4 note Disney theme, namely artistic credit and artistic legacies. Having kept my attention and getting me to commit to a subject I had zero interest helps explain hbomberguy’s popularity. (I just saw that Brewis promoted the Defunctland Disney piece in twitter. Well.)  I don’t know people, this is just some of the random shit I’ve been digesting. Thanksgiving’s tomorrow. Distract yourself with some creativity and get yourselves through the holiday gauntlet. 

[zipcodecrone]

Got another short ficlet for today's FANSPLOSION! This is a venture brothers fic based on the prompt "frozen":

The ceiling shook, bits of debris and dust rained down from the ceiling tiles as a piercing, booming voice penetrated the facility.

Dr. Thaddeus Venture let out a sigh as the voice of his greatest nuisance washed over him and his family.

DOCTOR VENTURE PREPARE TO BE DESTROYED!

His two sons cowered underneath a table, as more bits of detritus fell down.

"Doc, do you, uh, want to deal with that," Brock muttered, gesturing outside.

Rusty stared at him for a moment, "yes, isn't that what I pay you for? Go. Deal."

He waved his hands impatiently and his bodyguard disappeared out the door into the snow.

—AND WHEN I DO, I'M GOING TO DANCE ON YOUR GRAVE, VENTURE!

BEHOLD, THE BRINGER OF YOUR DESTRUCTION, —

"Dad, is he actually going to destroy us?" Choked out Dean from beneath the table.

"Of course not, don't be stupid."

—THE SNOW IS COLDER THAN ANY SNOW EVER HAS BEEN! THIS SUPER SNOW WILL BE YOUR—

Dr. Venture stared down at his watch impatiently, "Brock is certainly taking his time."

—ICE WILL BECOME YOUR EVERY WAKING MOMENT AS SOON AS I… WHAT DO YOU MEAN ITS DESTROYED? I JUST MADE IT! … WHO'S HERE? WAIT, WAIT, NOT THE FACE!

The voice suddenly stopped, and a few minutes later, Brock Samson returned

[whifferdills]

THE HAUNTING OF VILLA DIODATI/THE ASCENSION OF THE CYBERMEN/THE TIMELESS CHILDREN:

Yaz stumbling over vast piles of emotional detritus, approaching the shining fact of her sexuality off in the distance, testing the waters. Ryan playing "Chopsticks" (popular in the colonies). The scuttling bone hand, 13 licking the bone dust, relics of war from my travels, reminders that we tread on the dust of empires. Fuckboy Byron and Shelley the guardian. The house hidden inside a house, rooms shifting, the labyrinth building and rebuilding itself around its Minotaur. The ghosts of the servants (Graham's magical realist grief has reached its full power). Chibnall makes Eighth Man Bound television canon (?!). You want to sacrifice yourself for this? You want me to sacrifice you? Bill Potts deserved better.

Every empire has its time, and every empire falls, but that which is dead can live again in the hands of a believer. Your mother's memory of you from when you were a man (and she still believes that's who you are) taking residence inside you, crawling up through your throat. The last human settlement, just regular humans, refugees with their fingers in the last hold left at the end of the universe. Don't worry about where we're from, concentrate on how we can help. Ryan, whose worst fear is to be left behind, is left behind; Yaz has her "Flatline" moment; Graham pulled, don't worry about him. Another haunted house, the ship adrift in a sea of bodies. I was not discarded, I was chosen/I am the perfect vessel. You will be reborn on the site of your defeat. The boundary, the gateway, the guardian, the Master.

The Caldera, the Citadel, the Doctor. The Panopticon, or what's left of it anyway. You're not such a bad human yourself either. The Matrix, the memorial of a lived memory. Bodies, importantly. (Another haunted house.) The refugee child found beneath the monument. How family can love you and still hurt you; how colonialism has affection for what it takes, how it will snap in an instant if violence will get it what it wants, no matter the kindness it showed its subjects before. The Master is so obviously, patently, Fisher Price Media Analysis Activity Playset level wrong about the Doctor being special because they were exploited and abused, but also correct that their deaths were what Gallifrey was built on, and that everything the Doctor is, the Master is. (How many times does the script need to use the word 'empire' before u get it. Bc the script uses it a lot lmao and ppl are still out here upset abt how the LORE IS RUINED FOREVER BC NOW THE DR WHO IS TOO IMPORTANT or whatever. shut up <3)

The angriest, shittiest little fight on a shitty little hill. The Shelley quote bumping up against the Oppenheimer quote. The noble creation myth, the shape around what was erased. A gift, a clue, an apology. (The thing about an apology is that you don’t need to accept it.) Agency, again. Explosives are still the answer. Yaz stepping through the boundary first, with no hesitation. Have you ever been limited by who you were before? The importance of asking questions, if not getting to know the answer. Getting the specifics of how the Doctor's concept of family is fucked up right before they insist on doing it alone again, right after the Master's death wish brings him to his knees in front of them (which is such a hot scene, btw, just saying). The Doctor pushing Yaz away, and Ryan calling her gently back. Getting the Fam home, and the TARDIS as family and home, and travel as a state of being, and a boundary as something permanent inside of you.

This episode ending w the Doctor arrested and imprisoned indefinitely is such a pointed choice lmao hello. I can’t believe I didn’t see Flux coming.

🤡🤡🤡nerdlinger bullshit:🤡🤡🤡

The Division is essentially what's been my take on the CIA since season 2 of Gallifrey which makes me a genius and Chibnall the most correct opinion-haver

The fucking...."Brain of Morbius" Doctors. fuck off.

“Any idiot can make themselves into a robot”

Chris Chibnall I haaate yooouuu

[quitealotofsodapop]

MvA assorted headcanons

General:

So many years together has made the core monsters inseperable. If something affects one member, it affects the group.

All. The. Monsters. Are. Family.

It takes Susan a while to understand inside jokes and past incidents because of being the most recent addition.

There are Other anomalous creatures kept in Area 5X, but they are either non-sentient and/or are too dangerous to be kept around the more human-friendly monster group.

Area 5X is so gotdang big because they were expecting a lot more kaijus like Insecto to crop up. Sadly not many have surfaced to justify the space.

There’s a hangar in Area 5X full of wrecked UFOs. Some are spacecraft wreckage while others are stuff like weird meteors (Susan’s is in there), and at least one alien creature that got crystallised upon entering Earth’s atmosphere.

There’s significant difference in staff employed at different points throughout the past 50 years. There are far more women on the Area 5X worksheet than back in the 50s, and the guards are generally more sympathetic towards the monsters. Many modern staff members have been reprimanded or let go for failing to uphold secrecy, or for unnecessary cruelty towards the monsters.

Budget cuts were a legitmate concern up until the Battle of Golden Gate Bridge. The facility was far more barebones and sterile before the government had to formally recognise Area 5X’s importance. There have been a lot of redecorating at the facilty since the fat checks started coming in.

Putting individual characters under read due to length.

Susan:

Enjoys many hobbies considered stereotypically feminine; baking, sewing, cosmetics, etc...

Grandparents and extended family are farmers or are atleast connected to the business. Modesto is the agricultural centre of California after all. Her parents were the first of their generation to go against the mold and seek out white-collar careers.

Studied cosmetology in school and was working at a beauty salon to save up for her and Derek’s wedding.

Is very athletic and grew up doing a number of physical extracurriculars like cheerleading, dodgeball, and roller-derby.

Grew up being teased for being the shortest kid in her class/family. They still tease her for it.

Greatly fears causing collateral damage and/or harm to others through her size.

Has issues with anxiety, worsened only by her new job as “savior of earth”. She wishes for a confidant to tell her worries to.

Married life with Derek was doomed to fail. Susan had a plan in place for what came after the marriage, and focusing 100% on Derek’s career was not it. There’s also the line from Derek’s mother about Susan being “the weatherman’s wife”, implying that she was to be the homemaker and not have a career of her own. It’s possible that Susan was planning to settle down and have kids with Derek, but the lack of control she had in moving to Fresno implied that more was going on.

Is currently “taking a break” from love and dating, despite gaining many new admirers.

Tries her best to return to Modesto to visit her family and friends whenever possible, though work often keeps her away for weeks at a time.

If she retains her height-shifting abilities as in the series; Susan goes through really bad “growing” pains.

Link:

Was frozen in his relative late-teens during a cold snap. Got shifted around until he ended up somewhere in Greenland before being discovered by modern humans. Post-thaw he went a bit wild, swimming frantically back south to try and find his old enviroment.

Was one of many scrappy youngsters in his troop, with a number of adoptive parents. The strongest ruled the troop, and Link was fairly weak in comparision to the leaders. He had gotten into a fight the day of his freezing (over something silly in hindsight) and swam away to sulk. When he didn’t return after the cold snap - the troop accepted that he had likely died out on his own.

Likes to freak out humans by making up weird biology facts about his species and ones he’s fought against - like joking about laying eggs or having his tail dettach and regrow like a lizard. However there’s some things he has to ask about, because he doesn’t have medical knowledge or words to describe something.

A lot of his macho behavior came from imitating the guards who kept watch on him. 1950s violent military alpha males aren't a very good role model for someone who doesnt know what societal norms are yet. Link was a lot more insufferable back in the day but chilled out as he began interacting with other walks of life.

Has a high paternal instinct and immediately becomes softer around kids and smaller animals.

Has body language similar to a cat/alligator. Slaps his tail when angry or in deep thought. And yes; Link purrs/rumbles when happy.

Loves monster movies - especially the ones where the monsters “win”. He cried when he saw “Beauty and the Beast” and then immediately booed loudly when the Beast turned human.

Does Not Trust doctors or scientists due to bad past experiences. Will only go to Dr Cockroach and Monger if he ever gets hurt/ill. Gets stressed fast if he has to be in a waiting room or doctors office.

Link had no idea what gender indentities or orientations were until recently - he did come from a pre-human civilization that really didnt mind/care about the schemantics. It took him some time to wrap his head around it. He identifies himself as bisexual after much thought and many hours alone on the computer.

Don't press him about his body. He's built different from humans and cis people. He will punch anyone who doesnt respect his or anyone elses identity.

Has been in love before. It didn’t end well.

Will occasionally wear clothes, but finds it a challenge to find anything that fits him. Will give any shoes he finds to Dr Cockroach and BOB to eat.

The best driver/pilot out of all the monsters.

Dr Cockroach:

True name is Jaques-Yves Herbert. Prefers to just go by "Dr Cockroach" because he dislikes the association with his birth family.

Picks up human languages very easily, although not as quickly as he can understand animals.

Parents were a mixed scientist couple. His father was an aggressive “Strong British Man” that would beat him son down for not following orders or for not meeting his standards for a man. Dr C turned down both chances to attend his parents funerals.

This man isn’t straight. He probably uses old-fashioned slang when asked about romance such as; “I am Uranian” or “I wear a green carnation”. It took Susan a few times to realise what he meant, as she is used to a more open minded enviroment.

Got the idea of transforming into a cockroach from reading Franz Kafkas “The Metamorphosis” as a child. He sympathized with Gregor’s abusive situation, and began considering the possibilties of how one could survive better as a creature like a cockroach.

Studied in biology and entomology in the Uk before moving to the states to follow engineering. Obtained his degree in Dance as a “side gig” in University.

Has been barred from free access to the coffee maker/machine due to overnighters. Once stayed awake so long that he forgot the letter “R”.

Owned a terrarium of Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches throughout college. He mourned each of them when his roommate’s iguana got into the tank.

Was a "beatnik" back in the day and still kinda is. Embraces and encourages modern counterculture as he himself was not given such acceptance in his youth. He has however shamefully eaten his old Lenny Bruce album.

Hasn’t actually aged physically since his transformation. He attributes this to the fact that certain athropods can’t age physically beyond maturity. Link is very jealous.

Has obtained more degrees while in captivity, as Monger allowed him access to research and learning materials. He has however had his allowances revoked for previous escape attempts/doomsday devices.

Does still enjoy human food, but the cockroach instinct of "eat detritus" tends to overrule his eating choices. Can’t cook either.

Ironically a terrible driver. The damages from previous drives has made Monger restrict him from operating even a razor scooter.

BOB:

Pretty much considers himself human. Was created by them, raised by one (Monger), and talks like one. Gets sad when he's reminded that no other humans are blue blobs like him.

Absorbed some dna from the scientists present at his "birth", leading to his eye, speech, and omnivorous diet.

Doesnt actually need to breathe (as he can just absorb oxygen through his mass) but the fact that humans Do means that BOB thinks he has to as well.

Shares some physical characteristics with tomatoes/nightshade plants, as he is technically half tomato. He refuses to eat tomatos for this very reason, considering it cannibalism.

Attracts garden pests looking for a tomato plant. This unwittingly makes BOB a pretty good bug zapper.

Still retains his "mental broadcast" ability from "BOB's Big Break" although at a more subtle level. He tends to parrot the things he accidentally "eavesdropped" on.

Is empathetic, and can tell when others aren't doing ok emotionally. Will flop down on someone who’s really sad to comfort them. No brain, only heart.

Best cook out of the monsters. If he doesn’t forget what he’s making at least.

"Whats a gender? Can I eat it?"

Insectosaurus:

Core body is that of a Japanese Silkmoth, although she ended up being spliced with other animals present on the island during her initial mutation; namely ants and ground squirrels.

Eats over a literal ton of mulberry leaves per day. Also enjoys oranges.

Secretly wishes to be more humanoid.

Was only able to pupate and transform due to physical trauma. It seems that her transformation was like a “power-up” that required her to be in geniune distress for it to activate.

First language is Japanese. She learned it from the intial recovery team, and later developed an understanding of English from years in Area 5X.

Goes into torpor in cold weather. Pretty much impossible to wake her up for missions during Winter, as she needs to “rev up” before becoming mobile.

Still very much Link’s best friend. Still enjoys sports, chicks, and beer.

Monger:

Full name is; Warren Rex Monger.

Is very protective of the monsters and will defend them to the death.

Pretty much raised BOB (as seen when BOB was a baby blob in “Night of the Living Carrots”), and considers him his “freaky gelatinous son”.

Has a reputation of being a “control-freak” due to his aggressive overseeing of the monsters’ containment. This toughness is partly because of incidents that occured without his knowledge. Lets just say some scientists have been wedgied/fired for running experiments on the monsters without Monger’s approval.

Has a very “Ron Swanson” emotional response and view of the world. Crying is acceptable only at funerals and at the Grand Canyon (if he hadn’t lost his tear ducts in the war).

Has been married multiple times. Will not confirm or deny if he is currently seeing anyone.

Invisible Man/TiM:

Legit got out but no one at Area 5X is sure how. He suffered a geniune medical emergency and disappeared after surgery. The other monsters were informed that he died from complications to deter them from getting escape ideas.

Is able to be detected in Infrared light. Dr Cockroach managed to rig up goggles to view TiM in case of injury and to foil pranks.

Was a scientist working on an invisibility potion for the military and used himself as a guinea pig. Hasn’t actually been able to replicate his results since - thinks the effect may have been caused by a genetic abnormality.

Dr Cockroach and him are massive rivals. Both actually met eachother pre-transformation through a CalTech expedition. This makes the pair one of few people that have seen the others human face.

Is 100% naked. Was forced to wear clothing once this was discovered.

A massive prankster and a cynic. Him and Link were a force to be reckoned with.

Has revisted the facility multiple times and has started a number of ghost stories.

Any additions are welcome! I proably have alot more to dump about. Might make one of the alien characters from the series

[slash-em-up]

War of the Neighbors pt. 4: The Collector x Reader

Here’s your Valentine’s Day special!! I hope you’re all spending today with your loved one, or treating yourself extra nice!!

This is nowhere near as edited as it probably should be, so please excuse any errors.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3

———————————————————————

Asa strode into the main lab promptly at 7:30 AM.

Several of the interns liked to joke that you could set your watch by Dr. Emorys schedule, and they were not at all wrong.

He’d walk in carrying his satchel and a cup of black coffee, pass by the security desk and and other fellows or interns trying to get an early start on their projects – barely sparing them a glance - then close the door to his office and do… whatever it was that Dr. Emory did.

The interns suspected he had some kind of Frankenstein-esq bug hybrid in there that was going to break out and wreak havoc.

His fellow doctors and professors just thought he was a major tool who had a god-complex and like to occasionally pop his head out and make them all look like idiots.

One was more correct than the other; but neither was too far off.

Today… people were staring.

And giggling.

Asa’s steps slowed just the smallest bit as his jet eyes flicked quickly from person to person, trying to sort out why they were paying him extra attention this morning.

His brow furrowed as he opened his office door and stepped inside.

It looked like a Valentine’s Day-themed bomb had gone off in the small room.

Everything wall to wall was covered in red, pink, and white hearts; boxes of various candies and cookies were stacked on his desk, and every inch spare inch of space – even the scratched tile floor – was covered with dozens upon dozens of roses.

Asa blinked.

“Oh Dr. Emory, that’s so sweet! We didn’t know you were seeing anyone!”

The grey-haired department secretary had sidled up to Asa and had clasped her hands in front of her bosom – eyes wide and bright at the veritable monument to the most ‘romantic’ of holidays.

Before Asa could reply, she was already shuffling past him, grabbing the white card conspicuously placed in an obscenely large arrangement of red roses.

She smiled broadly as she opened up the envelope and started to read.

“My darling Asa, Hang in there, buddy. We’ll find someone next year. Stay positive! Here’s looking forward to finally using all that lube for something other than car maintenance. Love, Asa”

The silence that echoed across the lab was awkward in the extreme.

Asa could feel his face heating and before anyone could say anything (or his damn blush got worse), he snatched the card away from the wide-eyed secretary and slammed his office door in her face.

Leaning against the closed door, the large man rubbed his eyes under his glasses, already feeling a migraine starting to form.

The bright colors lit up the normally staid and subtle décor of the room. Asa groaned in annoyance as he surveyed the mess. His attention turned to the small slip of paper grasped tightly in his hand and he quickly looked it over…

No other names, all typed, generic stock paper… Fuck, that wasn’t helpful.

Tossing the card into the waste basket, Asa gingerly stepped through the detritus - avoiding a pyramid of sprinkle-covered bonbons as he made his way to the desk.

Stopping at each bouquet, he aggressively snatched the attached note; becoming progressively more and more angry as he read the printed cards.

“Sweet Asa, you make me tingle all over, I don’t know what I’d do without you. <3 “Little Asa”

“Doctor Emory, thank you for being our #1 subscriber! You’ve singlehandedly kept us in business. - BustyBabes.com”

“Doctor Emory, we’re sorry to inform you that your order of our book ‘500 Sexy Feet for the Single Man’ has been delayed. Thank you for your patience and have a lovely Valentines Day. - Feet Fetish Forum”

“Asa, you’re the love of my life. Never change, my handsome man! - Love, Mom”

Taking a deep, calming breath Asa carefully and methodically ripped the offending pieces of paper into tiny shreds.

He could feel the predatory sensation that always preceded a hunt swell in the back of his mind. He was going to find whomever did this and destroy them.

Grabbing at a pile of boxes, he began rummaging through the labels, the wrapping, even the damn bows – looking for anything familiar or that might give some indication as to who really sent them.

When the third stack of Godiva chocolate truffles began to lean a bit too precariously, Asa was close to giving up.

He gazed despondently around the room, looking for any clue he could sink his teeth into…

… wait…

He moved quickly over to a plate of prettily wrapped cookies with a unique, but cheaply printed bakery label…

This looked familiar.

Where had he…

Oh.

The pieces began to fall into place as he recognized the logo on the label as the same one he’d seen on his neighbors business license.

You’d done this.

His mind raced with next steps and cold, rage-filled thoughts as he held the plate of cookies in his hands.

A loud pounding on the door shook him from his plotting; only to freeze him entirely as a loud, male voice shouted:

“ASA EMORY, THIS IS THE POLICE!”

Asa stiffened, ready to run.

How had they found him?!

The voice rang out again.

“COME OUT WITH YOUR HANDS WHERE I CAN SEE THEM!”

Shit, shit, shit, shit…

“YOU’RE UNDER ARREST FOR BEING TOO SEXY!”

He most definitely did not scramble – he moved with purpose – towards the entrance; twisting the lock quickly as heavy electro-beats began to pulse through the door accompanied by a chorus of feminine screams.

Fuck.

———————————————————————

The glass of champagne you were sipping on was getting tepid.

It wasn’t particularly unusual for you to be alone on Valentine’s Day; but at the very least in years past you’d had close friends nearby to keep each-other company during your ‘Singles Awareness Celebration’.

But moving to a new town to start your business had taken you away from all that – and you were feeling the absence.

You were trying to take your mind off of it by working through a few cookie recipes that had been giving you trouble. No one wants to eat a crunchy macaron….

A knock on your door pulled you from your contemplation.

Your brow furrowed as you glanced at the clock. It was nearly 10 PM, who in the world would be knocking now?

Shuffling across the room, you wiped your hands on your pants and slowly approached the door.

Pulling at the heavy oak, you froze as soon as you saw who was standing in your entryway.

Asa Emory looked ominous in the shadows cast by your porch light. He had clearly just come from his work, as he was still sporting a button-down and sweater vest combo… his tie and hair looked like they had gone through the ringer.

His hands were clenched around the platter you’d had delivered to his office early this morning – the logo for your shop prominently displayed.

You stared at each other for a few moments, neither saying anything.

Grinning a bit under his angry glare, you finally broke the silence.

“Sooo… what did you think of the cookies?”

[fericita-s]

We Run a Very Tight Ship

Guest chapter! @sagiow challenged me to write a chapter for the Mercy Street Cruise Ship AU that involves “floor bacon” and “leftover snow cone” and this is the result, heavy on the Emmry. Thanks for inviting me to play in your sandbox! I hope I didn’t make things too dirty!

Thanks @the-spaztic-fantastic for beta-ing and for some research on this chapter that I won’t out you for.  Let’s call it medical.

Previous Chapters by @jomiddlemarch and @sagiow

Quarantine – Day 5

Maple Bourbon Snow Cones

The lewd bag was empty and every time Emma looked at it the same hysterical giggle worked its way up from the depths of her belly, just like the one that had made her gasp against the wall with the realization that she was quarantined in the honeymoon suite with the man she’d been crushing on for as long as she’d had this job.  And then it had been Henry making her gasp, and occasionally the depths of treasure they extracted from the lewd bag.  What hadn’t needed batteries – the lotions, some of the condoms, the novelty lipstick shaped like a penis – was used up or laughed over and then discarded, Emma was still too good at her job to stop taking evaluative notes on what should be added or permanently excluded from future honeymoon packages.  She had berated herself for not thinking to check that the outlets matched the plugs for the plug-in, but who wanted to spend any time thinking on Alice and Frank’s sexual satisfaction.  Anyway, Henry was just as good as a Hitachi.  Better even, what with the stubbled jawline and forearms to admire.

They were ensconced on the bed, the silk duvet and the plush matching bathrobes the only part of the experience that felt vaguely like a sick day.

Mostly, it felt like a vacation.

Three times a day, a steward knocked on the door to deliver food.  There were increasingly entertaining videos livestreamed by PS I Love You Squivers and Henry was just as fun and funny to talk to post-sex, or more accurately in-between-sex, and no one had died.

Emma knew that should have been what she was most grateful for, and Henry was leading with it in the sermon he was live-streaming later, but it was easy to forget the chaos going on in the medical bay when she was on her honeymoon.  Even a borrowed one.

A brisk knock sounded and Henry kissed her forehead as he left the bed to answer.  The voice on the other side immediately scolded him and Emma tilted her head, trying to place it.

“You shouldn’t be opening the door for anyone without proper protective gear on!”

Emma wondered why someone would insist Henry answer the door with a condom on until the door opened wider and she saw the scrubs and mask Dr. Foster was wearing.

“Hello, Jed.  Should I close it?” Henry seemed unbothered though he did take a few steps back, motioning for the doctor to come in.  Emma thought Jed looked like he’d been awake for the five days of quarantine, and perhaps he had.  It gave her a slight pang of guilt that he had been working so hard to take care of her sister and brother and soon-to-be brother-in-law/ex-boyfriend.

“Is Alice alright? And Jimmy?”  She didn’t ask about Frank. Not because it was awkward, but because she didn’t really care and she’d rather keep thoughts of him out of this room where she definitely had not been thinking about him, beyond regretting that she had poured the premium bourbon Frank insisted the room was stocked with down the drain. If she had known she’d be the one holed up in this room, she wouldn’t have discarded the Pappy Van Winkle’s Family Reserve and refilled the bottle with Jim Bean, which at the time had felt like a delightful power move.  Would Frank brag about the superior taste of the good stuff instead of the cheap swill of the masses?  Or would he have a Princess and the Pea moment and demand the high-end alcohol? Either would have been fireworks that amused her; it was just too bad she and Henry had to make do with the cheap stuff.  It made the melted snow cones from lunch more bearable at least, and who could even taste the bourbon with the snow cone on her tongue and then Henry soon after.

“Alice and Jimmy are fine.  The others too. No worse, no better. We just administered the tests and I’ve been assured we’ll get results soon.  Alice sent me to collect the ‘sparkly, pretty, rainbow shoes’.  The payment required for her participation in the swab.”

Emma tightened the bath robe and got out of the bed, her hands lingering on the silk, wishing it could have been longer that this room had gone without the name “Alice” being spoken.  Hearing it twice was like breaking a spell.

“I don’t think her luggage is here.  She was staying with her bridesmaids in an ocean view suite on A Deck.”

Jed sighed and raised a hand like he was going to rub it over his eyes and face, but then stopped, letting it fall back down.  “I went there first.  To Kayleigh or McEnany or MacKayleighAnnie or whatever the hell her three bridesmaids’ names are.  They were next to useless and either lying or clueless, but they weren’t sick at least. Mind if I look here?”

Emma’s eyes met Henry’s and they both looked around the room at the detritus of one lewd bag and four and a half days’ worth of food and condom wrappers. Henry cleared his throat.

“How about we look and call you when we find it? And how about you take a rest in your own room before heading back to med bay? Before you need a cot there yourself?” Henry put a hand on Jed’s shoulder but Jed shook it off.

“Fine. I shouldn’t spend time in here with you anyway, stop the spread and all that. Let me know?”

He left and Henry bent to retrieve the breakfast tray that had been left and kicked at the door to shut it, but the pocket of his bathrobe got caught on the doorknob and the tray jerked out of his hands as he was pulled back with the door.  Emma watched in horror as a plate slid off of the tray and the bacon slid off of the plate and onto the floor.

“Five second rule!” Henry shouted, pulling his bathrobe free of the door and scooping it up.

“On a cruise ship?  During an epidemiological disaster? I don’t think the five second rule applies.”

“Fair,” Henry said, and threw it into the trash instead.  “I suppose floor bacon is not what B Gibson intended for our culinary satisfaction.”

“I’m starting to feel like this is the Battle of Manassas and we’re all on a picnic watching the horror go down with amusement. Should I be doing more to help? Jed seemed pretty exhausted.”

“Manassas, eh? Not Bull Run? Took me five days but I finally found your flaw.  You’re a secret Confederate.”

Emma swatted at him, but then reconsidered and swiped a pancake from the tray he was still holding instead.  “I’m from Virginia.  It’s what the battlefield sign says.”

Henry put the tray on the bed, resettling the plates and arranging the fruit and sausage that remained and took a pancake for himself.  He spoke in between bites and he was so comforting and certain, Emma thought that online ordination must have included some contact hours for counseling training.  He was so good at it. “I think quarantining is the most helpful thing we can do right now.  That and look for these shoes.  We know we’ve been exposed to Alice and if we go out, we just make the problem worse.”

Despite the sentence ending with “make the problem worse,” Emma felt a thrill of victory. For right now, for this perfectly weird moment, the best thing she could do for her job, for her family, for the good of the public health, was to remain in a honeymoon suite with Henry. It was a sacrifice she could handle.

They finished their breakfast and then began searching for the ridiculous shoes Alice apparently needed while prone in a hospital cot. Henry turned the livestream on and they watched with amusement as Percival Squivers apologized for the unhinged magic shows he had been giving over the past few days and then pledged to provide truly riveting content for the remainder of quarantine, however long it lasted.  Then he reached to turn off his camera but missed, and Henry and Emma abandoned their search as they watched, open-mouthed and eyes wide as Squivers pulled a half dollar from behind a woman’s ear as she leaned in to kiss him.  Squivers kept attempting to say, or guess, her name, like it was a magic trick that would have the best reveal yet: Lisette? Linnette? Laurent?   And then what followed wasn't exactly porn, it wasn't exactly not porn, but it definitely wasn't good porn and they turned from it to keep searching.

As she lifted pillows and emptied drawers and looked in the smallest closet to ever bear the name, Emma considered how much easier it was going to be to stop this wedding now that the bride and groom were both sick.  But she wanted it to not happen ever, and the means to prevent it was still not in her grasp.

Henry hadn't asked why and she wanted to think it was because he could tell how awful they were or that he'd do whatever she asked or that he was ready for hijinks of any kind, and not that he expected an explanation.  Because she wasn’t sure she could explain the mortification of her former boyfriend marrying her little sister.  It was cute when Amy March did it, but if Emma had to choose a scene to repeat from that book it would be letting her sister fall through the ice, and not necessarily the rescue that followed.

“Bingo!” Henry called, holding a shoe box aloft that had been stashed behind a pile of towels they hadn’t worked their way through yet.

Emma crossed the room to sit next to him as he opened the lid. The shoes were very sparkly, every color of the rainbow shimmering and shining in the sequins as they caught the light.  Emma lifted them out and frowned as she saw something left behind, half-hidden by the tissue paper surrounding the shoes.

“That’s Frank’s phone,” she said, reaching for it and flipping it over so the rebel flag phone case was at least not offensively visible.  She put in the code she knew he’d use: 1-2-3-4 and a series of pictures was already queued up.

She swiped through selfies of Frank, Jimmy posing obscenely, all the groomsmen posing obscenely, a close up of Alice’s ass, Frank boarding a plane, and then a series of photos with a random seatmate who looked to be the reigning Miss Italy. Photos in the cramped bathroom that left Emma with no doubt that plenty of germs and viruses and perhaps even an entire plague could have been caught from the amount of skin and orifices and fluids being exchanged in the bathroom, fully documented on his phone, in black and white, in video, in various filters that Emma appraised with a critical eye and announced, to Henry's amusement "Yep.  Just as bad as I remember.”

He flashed her a smile. The one that meant this round was over and it had been a good one. “You did it.  You found the evidence.  No wedding.”

Emma shook her head.  “If it was in her shoes, she knows. Nothing matters.  The truth is out there and no one cares.”

A new sound was coming from the livestream and Henry and Emma turned to look, able to see clearly as Silas the pig and Mrs. Brannon came into frame and demanded of Squivers “Did you find it for me? I’m tired of paying you and seeing nothing but lousy magic to show for it.”

“I think we figured out Squivers’s side hustle,” said Henry, but he turned the tablet off at Emma’s blank look.  “The truth does matter.  And I made a no-vow vow.  I don’t break my vows.”

“No wedding,” Emma said, equally solemn.

“The truth matters,” he repeated, and Emma wondered if he meant the revelers still having pop-up parties in hallways and acting like quarantine was a suggestive role play you could opt out of if it didn't suit your entertainment interests.  It would be a good sermon, if anyone could tear themselves away from the trainwreck of the Squivers show to watch.

***

Jed came to retrieve the shoes later, looking marginally better rested but wielding test kits and insisting he administer them so the mad rush of the second round could at least be staggered.  Emma giggled hysterically as Henry yelled “Peacock! Peacock!” and then again as the swab went so far up her nose she thought it was tickling her hairline from beneath her skull. 

“Let’s add some more bourbon to the leftover snow cones,” she said as Jed left, bags and shoes in hand.  The phone they had kept; the plan was still formulating on how to wield it.

“I want it that way,” Henry sang, sounding sexier than a Backstreet Boy though somewhat more nasally as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose and grinned at her.

[whump-it]

Got a few more questions for ya! What is their favorite room to be in in their house? What is one of their pet peeves? What is their favorite song? For your trio!

Ok!  Sorry this took a while!

What is their favourite room in the house?

Rory likes his living room best of everything.  It’s comfortably littered with his detritus and the couch has a lovely dent where he sits, while the coffee table is worn smooth where he puts his feet up.  He would never tell Callum but he’s a little disappointed by how tidy it’s slowly becoming now that Cal’s there to do it for him.

Hayden’s favourite room is his study.  It’s got photographs of his family and it’s where he does his work so that he can keep his beautiful house over his head  but he’s also incredibly fond of his basement, particularly the noises that come out of it.

Callum’s favourite room is whichever one has Rory in it.

What is one of their pet peeves?

Rory gets more worked up by traffic than he ought to be and it spills over into how he feels about walking too.  He’d be much happier if pavements had lanes like motorways do!

Hayden can not bear Callums slow and stupid approach to life.  How anyone can be so very slow and stupid is a mystery to him.  It’s not as though he hasn’t given him sufficient encourgement to sort himself out.

Callum doesn’t have peeves.  They’ve been conditioned out of him.  Don’t ask.  Don’t question.  Don’t think.  It will only end in pain and trouble.  When he trains as a doctor though he will quickly discover that one of his biggest peeves is people thinking that they can talk down to other people just because they don’t have Dr in their title.  He will hate that.  They are a team and should be empowered to work as such.  He will eventually give talks and lectures on this.

What is their favorite song?

Rory’s favourite song is Flux by Bloc Party.  He LOVES Bloc Party.  But he loves Callum more and will now never play their song Like Eating Glass because it upsets Cal.

Hayden doesn’t have a favourite song.  He found out that having a favourite song ties you to people, or memories, or situations and that leaves you open to hurt and weakness.  He will never allow himself to have a favourite.  But he appreciates quiet classical music on Fridays.

Callums favourite is Wildest Moments by Jessie Ware.  He tried to sing it to himself in his basement.  It made him so lonely and so sad that he thought he might actually die of a broken heart.

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG149! /X_X/*

- Statement-giver was a pure delight and I’m still snickering every time over this passage:

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “I usually head out with the other specimen tech, Fernanda Miqado, a local – and by local, I mean she’s from Manaus, about 200 miles away. Brazil’s… pretty big. And if there’s one thing she’s really good on that I’m not, it’s the weather. I’m pretty hopeless at figuring out what any given day’s going to be like, and just have to rely on whatever weather site I’m currently losing faith in. It doesn’t help that the weather in the Amazon is just plain weird, with rains coming out of nowhere months before the wind should actually be bringing in the clouds, and… n–no one knows why. But… Fernanda, she might not know why but, somehow, she always knew when – to the point where, if she said it might be bad, I would just cancel the expedition. No further evidence needed. Not that day, though. No; that day, we had the world’s pushiest climate scientist breathing down our necks. Doctor Nikos Anastas.”

I’m So Glad Martin read that one because his snappiness was so good with Judith’s voice. They can all be pretty snappy but… Martin sure is something.

(- Not sure if it’s “doctor Anastas” but at the very least: Judith/Martin/Alex ABSOLUTELY gave up on pronouncing his name towards the end, and we got “That was the last I ever saw of Dr. Nikos [Asantas]”, and I’m still laughing every time too.)

- Judith knew that you speak Portuguese in Brazil! Progress from MAG033’s Carlita and her trouble getting understood due to her “bad Spanish” =D

- At first, when the statement appeared to be in Brazil in an isolated area, I thought about the Tundra again. And it’s true that the Extinction statements technically have technically been happening in remote areas – isolated or inaccessible or hidden in plain sight or in what felt like an alternate reality (Bernadette in Garland Hillier’s flat, Judith mentioning feeling disorientated after the fall and that something was wrong), and I’m vaguely suspecting that Peter and/or Adelard’s reading of the new Fear may indeed be… off, and that their summary of it only matches with the statements they consulted but not with the essence of what it is actually…? I can see how Gertrude was dubious about it, since every statement so far is also reminiscent of other stories/elements involving other Fears.

- Faaaaaaaaaaavourite “Holy Heck” moments were (because I’m super easy):

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “They were completely still, but there was something about them that made my mouth dry up, and my mind scream to run. [STATIC:] It didn’t feel like they were statues. It felt like they were choosing not to move. [/STATIC] […] I don’t know if it was me or Fernanda screaming. Maybe it was both of us. But I know it was her who first spotted that the detritus figures [STATIC:] were no longer choosing to stand still. [/STATIC]”

… And the tape recorder went all static when the statues were described + Judith’s Fear:

(MAG149, Judith O’Neill) “There’s something in there, [STATIC:] and I don’t know which scares me more: the thought that it’s more than just the things we left behind? Or that that’s all it is, and we can’t escape the ruins of our own future. [/STATIC]”

It had also reacted to Garland’s door and the “description” of the Inheritors, and to Gary’s numbers, before…

- The Extinction statements are getting closer and closer to the current in-universe present time, and this was the most recent statement about The Extinction involving Dekker:

* MAG134: Statement of Adelard Dekker, taken from a letter to Gertrude Robinson dated 22nd January 2006. * MAG144: Statement of Gary Boylan, given October 3rd, 2009. * MAG113: Statement of Adelard Dekker. Statement undated, likely circa 2012. * MAG149: Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013.

… How convenient for Jon that Adelard hadn’t mentioned “The Extinction” by name in MAG113, and that there wasn’t any note talking about it either ^^

Assuming that Jon’s approximate dating of MAG113 had been right, then this statement was also the closest in time involving Adelard Dekker at all. That’s still… five years before current time, and we haven’t heard of what his status has been in the meantime. What happened to you, dude.

(Also, according to Gertrude’s note, Adelard had sent Judith to the Institute… and yeeet, it’s a written statement. Gertrude was way better at the “not jumping on people for their live-statements” thing than Jon, but it also raises the question, once again: why was Gertrude choosing to record some? Why Walter about the old Archives, why Lucia about the Last Feast? Why couldn’t she ask them to write it down, in those cases…?)

- … Isn’t it funny how, so far, each of The Extinction statements had something that felt like a personal jab at Martin. Garland Hillier had the bad poetry; Gary Boylan had the concept of being stuck with a parent (and the fear of being like your dad, or becoming like him)

(MAG134, Adelard Dekker) “[Garland Hillier] spent the next twenty years publishing widely derided collections of poetry, as well as essays on belief and atheism that were roundly ignored by the philosophical salons of the time. He was supported by several literary friends, as he was reputedly a gifted editor, even if his own work was often all but incomprehensible.”

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “Something kept me rooted there, sleeping in a bedroom that hadn’t changed since I was fifteen, and caring for a man who I’d rather just shut up…! [SIGH] We were both… trapped there, I think. Bound together in a sort of wordless misery. I would look at him, and see a grim sort of destiny for myself: trapped here, until I became him – any future I might have had, sacrificed to his. [SIGH]”

Here, Judith actually had a degree, contrary to Martin… but was hired for another reason (and why did Elias hire Martin exactly?).

- So, Martin’s isolation was kind of the point of Peter’s training, and it had been installed as a requirement from the start, with Basira explaining to Jon that she&Melanie weren’t seeing Martin much anymore, Martin trying to cut the interaction short the two moments it happened with Jon – and with multiple mentions, recently, that Peter was growing significantly more absent:

(MAG126) PETER: You talked to him. MARTIN: I… I, I tried not to, I–I, I didn’t mean to… PETER: You talked to him. And that’s understandable, Martin, of course it is! Please don’t think I’m upset, it’s just… not ideal. Shows how much work we still have ahead of us. MARTIN: If I keep avoiding him, people will get suspicious. PETER: [CHUCKLING] They’re already suspicious, Martin, that’s not the problem! I had hoped that all this time apart would have given you the space you needed, but… […] MARTIN: A–a simple “hello” isn’t going to make any difference to– PETER: We’ve been over this. The sort of power you’re going to need relies on your– MARTIN: [SULKY] Obedience. PETER: Isolation. It needs to be you, Martin. You’re the only one who could possibly balance between the two.

(MAG134) PETER: … Look. I’m not gonna pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to. It won’t even work unless you’re willing to commit. In any case, I have plenty of preparations to work on myself, before it’s ready. I’ll see what else I can find to help with your reservations in the meantime, mmkay? Just… don’t hesitate too long. We are on a deadline, after all. MARTIN: … Fine. [SHORT SILENCE] PETER: Right! Then, if you’ll excuse me, I have a family thing to get to.

(MAG138) MARTIN: So… so what? What does it mean? Am I supposed to be reassured that new Entities can be born? That there’s some, some kind of… precedent for The Extinction? … Peter? [SILENCE] Huh. Maybe he has gone to a party. [HUFF] Anyway.

(MAG144) MARTIN: And you? PETER: I have my own explorations I need to attend to. And a, hum… meeting. To arrange. For you…!

Aaand going hand in hand with that, Martin had begun to casually admit that he was beginning to embrace that isolation:

(MAG134) PETER: … Anyway. Point is, I’m not your captor or your torturer. I’m not gonna tell you to stop talking to him, or even saving him if it comes to it. If that’s not a decision you’re willing to make yourself, me scolding you isn’t going to help.

(MAG142) MARTIN: I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just… [PAUSE] [SIGH] Th–the worst part is I don’t even want to talk to him about it. I’m just… [SIGH] I suppose I’m just getting comfortable with the distance. [SIGH] Cut off. [DRY CHUCKLE] “Lonely”. [INHALE] Mind you, Peter’s not wrong. It really is easier than actually just trying to communicate with people. I should probably try to get him this tape, let him know what happened, that someone came in to… But then, ahah, would that just come across as an accusation? Like, because I don’t wanna… And then, then I guess he’d… hear this bit as well, so… I… I… [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…? […] DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know? MARTIN: Again, not really. [SHORT HUMOURLESS LAUGHTER] No one talks to me anymore. DAISY: ‘Cause they reckon you’re working for the bad guy? MARTIN: Pretty much. … Don’t you?

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to.

(MAG149) MARTIN: Sort of… surprised Peter hasn’t rocked up with some more… “insights”? Haven’t seen him around for a while, actually. I mean… eh, it’s not like I miss him [CHUCKLING] but, at least he was someone to– [PAUSE] … Ah. [HUFF] [PAPER RUSTLING] Yeah, that makes sense. [EXHALE] A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then.

1°) A bit surprised that it doesn’t feel like Martin got reaaaally involved with The Lonely to get Lonely powers, but then, it’s the Institute and Peter has been hovering around him for months so… it probably served as a catalyst?

2°) CRIES BECAUSE:

(MAG142) MARTIN: [LONG EXHALE] What do I do…? [SILENCE WHILE CLOCK STILL TICKS IN THE BACKGROUND] [KNOCK–KNOCK–KNOCK.] MARTIN: [BREATHES] Go away… [KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.] MARTIN: [SIGH] Come in!

(MAG149) MARTIN: A’ight, fine. Just… me on my lonesome for a while, then. … Could be worse. … Peaceful, at least. … I don’t miss all the shouting. [CHUCKLE] Even if it w– [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN:  … Wait. [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES] Excuse me! Excuse me, this area is off-limits to the public.

Martin is getting so used to being on his own it’s painful, and:

(MAG144) MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone. PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course.

3°) Oh, Martin… you’re “not the same” but you sent Jess’s tape without being there (… or only invisible? Though he would have ranted or screamed about Hill Top Road if he had been aware, I think, given his reaction to the Svalbard trip in MAG142?), thus avoiding the… confrontation. And you nop’d out again as soon as Melanie arrived.

I’m curious about his “I don’t miss all the shouting”, though: what is that about…? Is it just The Lonely colouring his memories, and any discussion/slight disagreement is now a Shouting Contest by comparison? Is it about his memories of season 3…?

- Although Martin had kept himself isolated from the Archives but… not from visitors? He took Jess’s complaint in MAG142, and stepped in when he saw Georgie approaching (he wasn’t surprised to see her or that she could see him so… it wasn’t unusual).

(MAG149) [FOOTSTEPS IN THE DISTANCE, COMING CLOSER] MARTIN:  … Wait. [RUFFLING OF CLOTHES] Excuse me! Excuse me, this area is off-limits to the public. GEORGIE: [VOICE ECHOING] Sorry? MARTIN: You can’t be here, it’s not allowed. GEORGIE: Oh, sorry, hum… Melanie told me to wait for her here…? [ECHO DISAPPEARING] MARTIN: Oh, you… you’re here for Melanie? GEORGIE: Yeah. … Georgie. MARTIN: [COUGH] … Sorry. Uh, sorry, I–I didn’t realise. I’m, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere.

;; But aouch, he was… so dry with Georgie when he took her for a random lost visitor? And he only mellowed down when he understood that she was here for Melanie? I’m not sure he is aware of how snappy and cold he sounds – comparing how stern he was here with how he had interacted with Melanie in MAG084 (just before she signed up)… aouch.

Also! “[this area] is off-limits” sounded familiar, AND YEP IT IS:

(Trailer S1T2) ARCHIVIST: Hello? … Hello? … This archive is off-limits. [MUFFLED THUD] Is anyone there? … Martin? Martin, is that you?

(MAG047) ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I didn’t… Can I help you? This place is off-limits. MICHAEL: I disagree. ARCHIVIST: Who let you in here?

… I’m not sure where Martin was, exactly, this time, but it indeed sounded like it was possibly in the Archives themselves? No clock in the background, so it wasn’t Elias’s office (… and I doubt that Melanie would tell Georgie to find her around there). The distant voice + door closing combo puts me in mind of MAG084, which had a similar situation and setting: Martin spotting someone right outside his/an office after reading a statement, discussing a bit in the corridor/other room, further from the tape recorder, then coming back inside with the person (though there were more Door Sounds in MAG084, and only the sound of the door closing with Melanie&Georgie’s departure in MAG149).

- … I’m not that surprised/shocked/in pain about Martin pulling a “sharp squeal of distortion” and disappearing at the end of the episode because I… had been assuming… that he had been able to do that for a long while………………………………

(MAG127) BASIRA: … It was a few months back. After the attack. He’d started spending time with Lukas. At least, he said he was. And I wanted answers. He kept telling me to trust him, to hear the guy out even though he still wouldn’t actually show his face. I told him he could… drop me an email or vanish me. ARCHIVIST: … Right. BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done.

^There was the ambiguity of whether Basira meant “disappears” as just a figure of speech (“he runs away”) or quite literally; but given the wording, I was inclined to think that Martin fading from the scene supernaturally was A Thing already, back then. And Martin’s heavy sigh in MAG149 after Georgie&Melanie’s departure still keeps that open to interpretation: is Martin used to it (and feels blasé about the whole thing, and the sigh was also… mostly about the conversation he just had with Georgie, the fact that Jon is seen as a lost cause by someone who used to be close to him, or about the rude concept of Other People Having Friends And Doing Things Together), or was it a sigh about himself and the fact he… had finally used Lonely powers for the first time (and what it meant for him)? I’m guessing that if this was the first time ever that Martin disappeared, Peter will be obnoxious as hell about it and will make it official, so we should have a confirmation pretty soon.

Other things I’m not sure about: I’m not sure how to interpret the timing of Martin’s disappearance?

(MAG149) GEORGIE: W–… Jumping on a grenade is only heroic if you weren’t the one who actually threw it. MARTIN: That’s not what’s happening. GEORGIE: Okay. It’s still not something I want any part of. MARTIN: Well…! Lucky for you we’re fully staffed, so… [STATIC AND (FAINT) VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MELANIE: Hey! You ready? GEORGIE: Oh, uh – yeah. Whenever you are. [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION FADES] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently. MELANIE: [SIGH] … Yeah. This place will do that to you…! Come on. GEORGIE: Sure. [DOOR CLOSES.] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] [CLICK.]

(DON’T SAY “WE’RE FULLY STAFFED”, MARTIN… SOMEONE WILL DIE AGAIN AND LEAVE A SPOT VACANT…)

And I see several options:

1°) It was unrelated to Melanie and/or it’s actually because of Martin that Melanie hadn’t been there until now (in the same way that in MAG108, Martin had called Basira, Peter had popped up, and Basira had only answered Martin’s call after Peter’s departure, as if he had only just shouted her name a second ago). Martin chose that timing because the conversation had been unpleasant and he wanted to put a stop to it and/or because Georgie accidentally increased his loneliness.

2°) Peter had imposed a specific prohibition over Martin interacting with Basira&Melanie (who were the only Team Archives members around when Martin began to work for Peter), and Martin is still following that order. It would match with Basira explaining to Jon that she hadn’t been able to see/interact with Martin much in the last months; and indeed, since the beginning of season 4, we have only seen Martin interact with Jon (who surprise! managed to wake up from his coma, something Peter hadn’t factored in his deal with Martin – MAG126: “… You said he’d probably never wake up.” “And he beat the odds. Which is good. But it does make things more complicated. It doesn’t… actually change… anything.”), although Martin cut the conversation short both times; with Daisy (MAG142, MAG144), who had officially been “dead” when Martin made his deal with Peter; and with visitors (Jess in MAG142, Georgie in MAG149).

3°) … Martin specifically disappeared because Melanie was coming; either because “two is a crowd”, either because… It’s Melanie.

And Martin and Melanie’s relationship had never been, uh, the fluffiest ever:

(MAG086) MELANIE: I… I just feel like you two don’t want me here. TIM: We don’t. Martin’s not big on change. I don’t want anyone to be here.

(MAG106) BASIRA: Oh, what? You’re gonna judge me? I literally don’t know anyone here you haven’t made cry. MELANIE: You only know Tim and Martin! BASIRA: And Elias. MELANIE: I made Elias cry? BASIRA: I don't know. Probably. You can be very mean.

(Though there were kinder things: Martin did go have a drink with Basira&Melanie at the end of MAG099, and it was once again the plan at the end of MAG106 (though it didn’t apparently happen, or at least without Melanie, according to MAG108).

… But Elias, at the end of season 3, had commented that Martin deliberately going against Melanie’s pulsion to go for the kill… could make things veeeeeeeeeeeery bad between the two of them:

(MAG118) MARTIN: We… we need to leave. MELANIE: We need to kill him. Look at you! He. needs. to die! MARTIN: … no. No, I… I knew what this was gonna be. MELANIE: It’s not just for you! If we leave him alive– MARTIN: Melanie. Melanie, please. MELANIE: … Alright. Let’s get these somewhere safe.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hm. No Melanie? MARTIN: [SIGH] ELIAS: I’d have thought she would have wanted to gloat. MARTIN: N… no. I, I d– ELIAS: You didn’t tell her. [CHUCKLE] Worried she might create too much of a scene. I understand. I just hope she… doesn’t hold it against you. MARTIN: That’s– that’s not– […] It’s better than you deserve. ELIAS: Perhaps so. But I’m glad you were sensible about it. I was concerned you might have bought into Melanie’s… fixation.

We don’t really know how they interacted before Martin made his deal with Peter but it… didn’t bode well, back then, already. And we’ve seen Melanie six months later, when Jon came back: ready to jump at anyone’s throat, threatening and fundamentally angry. I… don’t think she was exceptionally kind to Martin in that period.

(+ Does Martin know that, in the end, her anger had been supernaturally focused by The Slaughter’s bullet? The surgery happened in the tunnels; even if Elias indeed doesn’t have access to them (which… is something… we’re still not entirely sure about…), he had been able to guess that it had happened – possibly because Jon and Basira had discussed about it in MAG127. But Peter? Peter has never mentioned Melanie’s ordeal: he talked about Breekon and the coffin and Daisy’s comeback, but never about Melanie.

Did Martin just assume that Melanie was like this… on her own? Like Tim had been angry about Jon and the Institute? I don’t think that Martin would need that to consider that uh, Melanie is not more worth saving than Jon (because Martin always has had his biases) but… it’s possible that he just doesn’t know that Melanie had been so antagonising and violent because it was favoured by the bullet? and that it isn’t the case anymore?)

- … Another Big Question raised by Martin Whooshing Himself Away… lay with Georgie’s comment:

(MAG149) [STATIC AND (FAINT) VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MELANIE: Hey! You ready? GEORGIE: Oh, uh – yeah. Whenever you are. [SQUEAL OF DISTORTION FADES] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently.

Was Georgie casually savage (“Since Martin chose to disappear, I’m taking this as him fleeing, so that means he’s not worth mentioning and is “no-one”)? Was Georgie extremely descriptive (“… Welp, there is nobody there anymore”)? … Or did Georgie forget about even interacting with Martin and did Martin… make himself “forsaken” in her mind…? ;;

(Because if it’s the last option, AOUCH… Would Martin start disappearing from people’s memory, proportionally to how present he had been around them? Something more gradual than what happened to Sasha? Georgie barely knew Martin outside of Jon’s talks and was meeting him for the first time here; Basira&Melanie… didn’t share a lot with him. But if Jon were to witness, slowly, people around him forgetting about Martin…)

(- Insert horrible snicker here because:

(MAG039) ARCHIVIST: Martin… You’re not, uh… You didn’t die here, did you? MARTIN: What? What? N–no… what?! ARCHIVIST: No, I just… No, just the way you phrased that... MARTIN: Made you think I was a ghost? ARCHIVIST: No… it’s– MARTIN: […] A ghost? Really? ARCHIVIST: [TIREDLY] Shut up Martin.

… Well, Martin kinda become a ghost here. For a few seconds. ……………… Oh no, if Martin is to die soon, will he die IN THE ARCHIVES for maximum irony……………)

- Re: Martin’s own Spooky Sounds when disappearing. It’s definitely close to Peter’s “sharp squeal of distortion” (as it was transcribed in MAG100), but way fainter. Interestingly: Peter’s is a constant background noise when he’s there; here, it only happened when Martin supposedly made himself invisible… and the tape recorder stayed with Martin (we could hear his final sigh). So, the tape recorder doesn’t react to Martin as strongly – and either it means that yeah, Martin is way less of a spook than Peter, either that the tape recorder is a bit desensitised to the Archival staff?

Plus: I’m not suuuuuuuure that there is no static when Peter is there (the distortion is too strong for me to hear) but there was definitely more static than distortion in Martin’s case – a bouquet of static, pretty strong, and it sounds like the usual one… but then, I’m not sure it wasn’t also the same one as the sound we could hear when Jon “forgot” about his lighter in MAG136?

(And technically… Okay, I want to “Hope” (el o el) And Be In Denial until I can’t Think About Web!Martin anymore but!!! If Georgie forgot about Martin’s presence and Melanie was unable to process that he was there: it would be pretty much mind-manipulation and really close to what the lighter is doing with Jon, right?)

- SOBBING because ahaha:

(MAG144) [VERY SHARP SQUEAL OF DISTORTION] MARTIN: [LONG SIGH] … Well? PETER: I’m impressed! And grateful. MARTIN: I didn’t do it for you. PETER: Even better. MARTIN: … It’s easier, this way. I’m sure you’d have had no problem sending her away. PETER: I hadn’t really thought about it. And now, thanks to you, I don’t need to. MARTIN: Yeah, well. It seems to be your go-to move for dealing with anyone. PETER: I’m just not big on confrontation. You understand, I’m sure. MARTIN: We. Are not. The same. PETER: Of course.

… as mentioned above, it wasn’t clear exactly what made/pushed Martin to “disappear” but. Although Martin tended to hide or try to defuse the situation sometimes (encouraging Tim to not blow up at Jon, lying low re:Elias after they had learned what the deal was with the Institute), he also used to be able to explode at people’s face when he had enough (calling Jon out on his Sceptic act in MAG039, savagely ranting at Tim in MAG079, keeping the Receipts of Elias’s actions to throw them in his face in MAG118 – … that’s his “end of season” thing isn’t it.). But here, just fading away in front of Georgie when they were having a disagreement over Jon and/or when Melanie was coming… was quite the “not big on confrontation” thing, and Peter would be so glad and so proud, and I hate Peter so much.

Bonus with:

(MAG134) PETER: Martin… My patron, hopefully our patron someday, doesn’t give me any sort of special insights. I’m not quite the accomplished voyeur that Elias was. I have to keep tabs on things the old-fashioned way. MARTIN: What, turning invisible and eavesdropping? PETER: If you like.

Complete with Martin’s own (faint and static-y) “sharp squeal of distortion”… Martin presumably heard them leave, since he seemed to be on the same “plane” as the tape recorder. So. Uh. Yes. Martin, you’re turning into exactly Peter, and what does that say about you ;;

(My “holding-onto-theories-as-long-as-Jonny-hasn’t-gleefully-and-maniacally-bashed-them-in-with-a-pipe” bleeding heart says “Martin looks exactly like his dad!” and “Lukas!Martin!”.)

- Anyway, getting Lonely or not, Martin is… still a Beholding baby, dutifully recording – WELL, unless he hadn’t noticed the tape recorder this time around, but he had been aware of them last time, so?

(MAG134) PETER: I can’t help but notice you’re recording right now? MARTIN: It… was a statement, right, that’s what we do.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what Peter’s planning, but my-my guess is that it might involve something below the Institute. Hopefully, by the time you get these tapes, I’ll have something more concrete for you. [PAUSE] Good luck, Jon, I– … [HUFF] Stay safe.

This time again, Martin was veeeeery “taken” by the statement and gave it his voice, and I’m laughing that, by contrast:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Statement ends. [SHORT INHALE] There’s… hum, a, a note here as well. [PAPER RUSTLING] Looks like Gertrude’s handwriting? Start of a letter to… Dekker, thanking him for sending Judith to her, though… it doesn’t look like it was ever finished or sent. [PAPER RUSTLING] “I assume this is another one he was trying to use to prove The Extinction? It… certainly has something in it. Mankind’s trash giving rise to something terrible. And again, fear of the other, inanimate humanoid figures. That’s all very… Stranger, isn’t it?” [SIGH] [LOW]… It’s never simple, is it…?

… I’m ASSUMING that Martin was quoting Gertrude’s note due to the content (being able to call the similarity with The Stranger, and overall reserves about the concept of “The Extinction”) but… his tone was absolutely not making it obvious. He didn’t read it in Gertrude’s voice or as “someone else’s voice” overall.

So yeah, at the very least: still under Beholding when reading a statement!

(And, small Martin thing: I’m so fond of the fact that he still has trouble introducing the statement – mostly when reading the cases numbers:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Martin Blackwood, assistant to Peter Lukas, Head of the Magnus Institute, recording statement number… 0131305. Statement of Judith O’Neill, given May 13th, 2013. [INHALE] Statement begins.

So many pauses and little hesitations while he reads the numbers! … And, uh. Tim hadn’t bothered with the case number when making An Attempt in MAG086; Melanie didn’t either in MAG086 and MAG106 (Basira did in MAG112 though)… So, uh. Martin has read, what, eleven statements at this point? But I’m still not sure he’s understood that the case numbers are actually constructed from the date, and that giving both of those pieces of information is unnecessary. Hence, probably, why Jon doesn’t bother with it. It had taken Tim 33 episodes to solve The Mystery but. I’m not sure that the information spread.

I’m not sure Martin knows.

Oh, Martin…)

- I’m SO GLAD to hear Georgie’s stance about Jon, and why she… stopped trying and doesn’t want to get involved. To be honest, I’m surprised it… took her this long and happened only after Jon woke up? I had assumed that she had been shaken by Oliver’s encounter and reminded a bit too much of Alex’s situation, and that Jon insisting that he was fine when he couldn’t be had been the things tipping her over, and… it probably contributed. But Georgie really did everything she could in season 3 – housing him, hiding him although she knew the police was searching for him, trying to get him out of his mindset:

(MAG083) GEORGIE: Sure. I just… I know that you get obsessive about stuff, and this right here, I… I’m guessing someone dragged you into something weird, you got hooked in and then it all went wrong. ARCHIVIST: I mean, that is almost exactly what happened. GEORGIE: So what you need now is… distance. ARCHIVIST: You’re right. You’re right. I just… I need to record it. GEORGIE: No, you don’t. This [paper rustles] is not going to help. It’s part of the problem, isn’t it? Look me in the eyes and tell me that it’s not part of the cult or whatever the hell it was that left you homeless. … [SIGH] Come on. What’s it been, four days? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. [SOFTER] Yeah. GEORGIE: It drops through the letter box and you spend four days… like this. It’s not– It isn’t right, Jon. You don’t sleep...

And in response, Jon… had been far from an ideal guest (breaches of trust, insisting he couldn’t stop, being an overall mess):

(MAG083) GEORGIE: Okay. And just so you know: not keen on your weird stalkers knowing my address. Not keen on that. ARCHIVIST: Right. [DOOR CLOSES] Right.

(MAG085) ARCHIVIST: I was just, uh… GEORGIE: You didn’t say we got another one. ARCHIVIST I didn’t want to worry you. GEORGIE: I knew it was something. You’ve been weird all day. ARCHIVIST I’m sorry, I… I don’t know. ARCHIVIST : Look, I’m really not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I just need to borrow it for a half hour or so. I, I’ll look after it. GEORGIE: Wha– No, I don’t– You can blow it up for all I care. It’s been in the loft for, like, twenty years. If I need tape hiss, I’ll add it in post. ARCHIVIST: So, what’s the problem? GEORGIE: With playing an unmarked tape from your stalker? ARCHIVIST: Uh… Look, you just have to trust me, okay. GEORGIE: Yeah, and I want to do that, but how can I when you still won’t tell me what’s going on? ARCHIVIST: You wouldn’t believe me! GEORGIE: Try me. […] Come on, I’m not throwing you out, Jon. I know you wouldn’t be here if you had anywhere else to go, and I… I do want to help, but… y’know, you’re a good person. You were, at least. But whatever this is, it’s messing you up! [SIGH] Look I’ve, I’ve got work to do. You listen, or don’t listen, or cross-record, or whatever you want, just… just think about it first, okay? You can choose to leave it alone. [DOOR CLOSES] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] [TAPE PLAYER IS LOADED] [CLICK–] […] GEORGIE: That’s it. Whatever the hell this deal is, the tapes, documents, I don’t want them in my house. ARCHIVIST: Look, look… No, no… Look, you, you don’t need to be scared. GEORGIE: I’m not! You are! Look at you, you can barely stand! ARCHIVIST: But I… But I need– GEORGIE: Listen to me, Jon. I can’t stop you doing… whatever secret bullshit you want to do, and I’m… not going to throw you out on the street, but I’m not having it in by home. ARCHIVIST: No… No, they won’t. I’ll make sure it doesn’t… I’ll keep it far away. GEORGIE: No, you need to stop. ARCHIVIST: I’m not sure I can.

(MAG093) ARCHIVIST: Georgie, I just, I needed to do one more. GEORGIE: I asked you not to record them here. ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry, I… I honestly forgot. It’s been a hell of a week. GEORGIE: Yeah, not just for you. What, you think you just disappear for five days, then turn up looking like the, like the end of Die Hard, and I’ll just write it off? “Classic Jon, what an interesting life he must lead.” ARCHIVIST: No, I– GEORGIE: Where have you been? And what happened to your hand? ARCHIVIST: I don’t want to talk about it. GEORGIE: Tough. ARCHIVIST: Look, I’m moving out anyway, so just… just forget it. I’m out of your life. Alright? GEORGIE: No.

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: You know that’s not what I mean. I feel like I’m putting you in danger. GEORGIE: Well, yeah. You are. A horrible mannequin thing turned up. Had to change all my lightbulbs. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. This, this is my point! GEORGIE: I said I’m fine with it. At least until you’re properly back on your feet. You’re not doing well. You keep apologising and saying you're changing, but it's all just the same. If you leave, I think it's just going to get worse, and I don’t want that.

(MAG149) MARTIN: Why aren’t you talking? GEORGIE: Ah…! … Because… I think… he’s going to… destroy himself. And… anyone who lets him get too close. And I don’t want that to include me. Or Melanie. […] But, he just carried on anyway– MARTIN: … Yeah, he will do that… GEORGIE:  –and I realised if I kept trying, it was gonna hurt me more than I was willing to accept. MARTIN: Well… [AUDIBLY SMILING] sometimes, helping people hurts. GEORGIE: Sure, but that doesn’t mean… everything painful helps. Sometimes, people have problems that will wreck you long before you can make a dent in them. … And some people don’t want help, they just… want other people suffering with them. […] MARTIN: It’s easy to pass judgement from the outside…! GEORGIE: One more reason to stay on the outside…!

I’m mostly sad that in the end, it all accumulated and went so badly that Georgie changed her mind, but she’s been… the most irreproachable of all, I feel? She did try, really hard, and it didn’t work to pull Jon out, because Jon kept repeating that there wasn’t any problem and proved himself untrustworthy (he still recorded things in her home and… caught her in his nightmares, and never acknowledged nor apologised about it).

Though, regarding Georgie’s perception of the situation:

1°) I didn’t really understand the “grenade” image…?

(MAG149) MARTIN: Look, we’re all just trying to do the right thing. GEORGIE: Maybe. [SIGH] Look… Life forces you to make hard decisions. But… I can never trust someone who goes around, looking for hard decisions to make. MARTIN: And what do you mean by that? GEORGIE: W–… Jumping on a grenade is only heroic if you weren’t the one who actually threw it. MARTIN: That’s not what’s happening. GEORGIE: Okay. It’s still not something I want any part of. MARTIN: Well…! Lucky for you we’re fully staffed, so…

Or was that literally about The Unknowing – the fact that they had placed bombs there? Does Georgie know that it had been the ritual attempt? (She knew Jon was ~trying to save the world~ but maybe she didn’t know that it had happened then?)

2°) Georgie used a lot of sentences presented as maxims or proverbs, as Objective Truths, and it made her words feel very stiff and sometimes cold…… and at the same time, it makes sense. She can’t feel fear; it would make sense that she learnt to function by rationalising, hence putting aside the emotional aspect of things when it comes to self-preservation, because it’s the only way she is able to tell that things are getting bad.

3°) ;; Her descriptions put me in mind of…… what had happened to Alex – and I wonder if she’s not assimilating what she experienced with The End and what Jon is currently doing?

(MAG094) GEORGIE: As the woman got closer, I could see something in Alex tighten, wind so taut that it finally snapped. She lunged forward, grabbed the corpse by its shoulders, and began to scream into its face. What did it want? What had it done? Demanding answers. The dead woman with the shaved head ignored her grip, leaned close to her neck and opened her mouth. For a moment I had visions of teeth sinking into Alex’s flesh, of arterial spray coating the clean, white laminate, but all that passed between them was a whisper. Something soft spoken into Alex’s ear. Her arms dropped to her sides, and she turned to look at me. Her eyes were different. They were still hers, and I could tell they still knew me, but something in them was gone. As my gaze met hers, Alex gave a simple, small shrug, so slowly, it was if every ounce of will she had went into that one small gesture. Her head drooped, staring at the floor, and she gently lowered herself down to lie there. And just like that I was on my own. It feels strange to think that even then I couldn’t find the strength to run. If I’m feeling generous to myself I try to believe it’s because I was unwilling to abandon Alex, or maybe the thing had some power to keep me there, but honestly, it was fight, flight or freeze. And I froze. I saw the dead woman approaching me. Smelt the chemicals that kept her from rotting, saw her lean towards me, saw her lips begin to form words. In desperation I slammed my hands over my ears and shut my eyes, willing myself not to hear, not to understand. As far as defences go, it was basically nothing, but I still think it saved me, at least a bit.

(MAG120) ELIAS: Another dissection room. Another figure standing in its centre; but this one is calm. She simply looks at him sadly, a pity in her face that burns him worse than any flame. More than anything, the Archivist wants to look away, to turn his Eye from her gentle sadness, from the disappointment for what she sees in him; but he cannot. So he watches her, until she simply fades away.

Georgie witnessed a friend running into danger, getting destroyed in the process, and was almost taken by it in turn. She already experienced this. Of course, she would feel like Jon is threatening to do a repeat of the situation, although more gradual.

- …

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh. … Oh, wai–wait, I thought Melanie-Georgie, and Jon-Georgie were… GEORGIE: Oh, uh, s–same, same Georgie. MARTIN: Oh. … Ah. Aah, so you and Jon…

Does it mean that Georgie and Melanie are friendly exes too. Does it mean that Jon & Melanie have actually kissed the same person, and would it count as a kiss by proxy. How many seconds before Melanie would gouge her eyes out at the notion.

(Melanie had mentioned Georgie to Basira, but not onscreen to Martin! So Martin used to be on talking basis with Melanie, enough for her to talk about her close ones…? ;w;)

- I’m assuming that Georgie was taking Melanie to therapy again and Hhhhhhh, I’m so glad that 1°) Georgie DID POINT OUT that Melanie is currently making efforts to get better – unlike Jon, and that that’s why Georgie is ready to help in Melanie’s case and less so with Jon (we could hear in MAG145 how… no, Jon isn’t really trying at all), 2°) Melanie indeed sounds quieter and more peaceful. Still really hoping that, whether her therapist is a surprise Lonely/Web/Beholding/Extinction!spook or not, it’s actually valid and regular therapy at work.

- The Martin-Georgie exchange also revealed that they hadn’t met each other at the hospital when Jon was in the coma! Though we still don’t know if Martin was a frequent visitor (we only heard him during the s4 trailer and there was no indication as to whether he had been visiting often or not).

… I was fearing that Martin would be meaner than this given that Georgie is Jon’s (friendly) ex but he (more or less) behaved, amazing. Bow down to Georgie’s powers, able to master Martin’s pettiness.

(Although yes, there is an undercurrent of… “I would do this if I were you!” in what Martin is telling her, so Martin is fully aware of who she is and what she represents for Jon <33)

- I’m half-laughing, half-sobbing over the fact that, when people are telling him that they aren’t talking with Jon, Martin’s reaction is to inquire Why and treat it as a serious issue:

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh. … Ah. Aah, so you and Jon… GEORGIE: … aren’t… really talking anymore. MARTIN: Rrright. [SILENCE] … Why not? GEORGIE: Excuse me? MARTIN: Why aren’t you talking?

Martin, please. You really can’t fathom that people might not want to talk to Jon and his Charming Personality, or that they have their Own Agenda Preventing Them From Talking With Jon just like you, uh. (Forget Fear Patron-shopping: Martin is Jon-aligned in the “do what I say, not what I DO” department.)

- MmMMMMMmm so, Daisy had already made it transparent that Jon was talking a bit more about Martin than we hear on tape:

(MAG144) DAISY: I, uh… I mentioned our conversation to him; he asked me to check on– MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry?

……………….. but the novelty is that APPARENTLY, Jon was talking about Martin behind our backs in season 3 already?!

(MAG149) MARTIN: Oh, you… you’re here for Melanie? GEORGIE: Yeah. … Georgie. MARTIN: [COUGH] … Sorry. Uh, sorry, I–I didn’t realise. I’m, I’m sure she’s around here somewhere. GEORGIE: You must be Martin. MARTIN: Y–yeah. Has… Melanie been talking about me? GEORGIE: Oh, hum… Jon used to go on about you a lot.

(… To be fair, there were two other guys working in the Archives and one of them is dead, so identifying Martin on sight… probably wasn’t that hard. Still, “to go on about you A LOT” is… Big, from Jon.

And he had immediately equated “talking with the others” (Georgie’s advice from MAG099) to “talking with Martin specifically” (in MAG102, one month and a long kidnapping&sequestration later):

(MAG099) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Why are you so insistent on keeping me around? GEORGIE: Because you’re trying to cut yourself off, and that’s… that’s really bad! Look, when’s the last time you spoke to someone who wasn’t me? ARCHIVIST: That’s… I… I–I talked to Martin a, a… a… a few weeks ago…? GEORGIE: Did you talk to him? Or did he talk to you, while you tried to find a way to escape? ARCHIVIST: I… uh… GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Maybe you’re right. I… I’ll talk to the others.

(MAG102) ARCHIVIST: In the meantime I… I have a new flat. I should try to get comfortable, change the locks. Even if I might need to be leaving it for a while. Oh, and… I suppose I… I did tell Georgie I’d try to talk to Martin.

Jon. Joooooon…)

(- I’m!! Still!! Unsure!! Whether Jon’s brooding over Martin in season 4 is meant to be potentially romantic or not. There are so many issues entangled right now that it doesn’t feel like a primary option: Martin is doing something dangerous, is the last one of Jon’s original team alive, and was representing a bit of stability/familiarity. It’s only natural and obvious that Jon would be sick-worried over him and longing for any contact, since Tim is now dead and Jon has been sinking further into spooks and monsterhood.

But the idea that Jon was (positively?) talking a bit more about Martin unprompted in season 3 already… Mmmmmmmmmmm…)

- It was an excellent confrontation of different points of view, with much awkwardness (Georgie and Martin both obviously trying to say Where They Were Standing about some issues even when the conversation wasn’t exactly about it – it really felt like they… weren’t really able to talk “together”, mostly exchanging point of views and mutually using the other as a way to justify themselves), but. At the same time. I feel like Martin’s stances were almost completely invalidated given his situation and what happened with his mother?

(MAG118) [STATIC BEGINS] ELIAS: Your mother. MARTIN: [BREATHES SHARPLY] ELIAS: She’s always been… “difficult”, hasn’t she? You take care of her for years, feed her, clean up after her and now, with her condition degrading even further, she is the one that asked to move into a home, to have it left to the nurses! She is the one that refuses your visits. MARTIN: Sh– she’s always been– ELIAS: Strong-willed? Stubborn? No. No, Martin; you know the reason. Your mother… simply hates you. You just don’t know why! It’s not your fault. Though I know that isn’t any consolation, it’s just bad luck, really. How old were you when your father left? Eight? Nine? When you mother began to sicken and he decided he was done with you both. Not old enough to remember him with any great clarity, especially when your mother refused to keep any pictures of him. She never recovered from that betrayal. He just tore her heart right out!, and took it with him. The thing is, though, Martin: if you ever do want to know exactly what your father looked like… all you have to do~ is look in a mirror~ MARTIN: [HEAVY BREATHING] ELIAS: The resemblance is quite uncanny: the face of the man she hates, who destroyed her life, watching over her; feeding her; cleaning her; looking down on her with such pity– MARTIN: [RAGGED] Shut! Up! ELIAS: Do you want to know what she sees when she looks a you? [STATIC INTENSIFIES]

… MARTIN, HOW DO YOU MANAGE TO CONCLUDE, ONE YEAR LATER, THAT

(MAG149) MARTIN: … Maybe he just needs some help. GEORGIE: I did help him! As much as I safely could. But, he just carried on anyway– MARTIN: … Yeah, he will do that… GEORGIE:  –and I realised if I kept trying, it was gonna hurt me more than I was willing to accept. MARTIN: Well… sometimes, helping people hurts. GEORGIE: Sure, but that doesn’t mean… everything painful helps. Sometimes, people have problems that will wreck you long before you can make a dent in them. … And some people don’t want help, they just… want other people suffering with them. MARTIN: Nn, Jon doesn’t want that.

… It’s not only that “sometimes, helping people hurts”: it’s also that sometimes, trying to force your conception of “help” over someone who doesn’t want it hurts them on top of hurting yourself.

Fortunately, Jon is not Martin’s mother, and Freud can remain Buried, but. Martin, oh, Martin… you learned absolutely nothing, did you…?

(I’m wrecked over the fact that you could HEAR that he was forcefully smiling, when saying that “sometimes, helping people hurts”. You could just. Hear it. And gosh, Martin, no…)

- ;; Extra-wrecked that, so far, no, Martin’s conception of care… hasn’t really helped anybody. It didn’t work with Tim when Martin was more or less trying to check on him in season 3, and Tim even cut any contact with Martin when he went on his own crusade against the Circus; Basira dismissed him a bit about it in MAG110; trying to tend to his mother… didn’t really work either. Jon has been craving Anything Martin in season 4, though, which is the main difference with the others. So maybe just being there could help, indeed, and that’s precisely something Martin doesn’t feel like he can afford to do at the moment… If he indeed consciously sent Jess’s tape to the other assistants, it means that although Martin hesitated, he was able to step in and take measures after learning that Jon was on the wrong path. So maybe hearing about how isolated Jon currently is, and how even Georgie has given up on him, could push Martin to send another message…?

- I’m a bit relieved by Georgie’s stance about Jon, too, because… yes, if someone should have these feelings about him, it’s her. And at the same time, I feel like the fact that she made them explicit is also a way to say that this is not the only option – it’s hers and her perception of current events, but it’s not… fundamentally the ones other characters will choose and pursue. There will probably be alternatives, there will probably be many different ways to interact with Jon; we’ve already seen Basira’s and it’s not certain that Martin will keep doing his best to not interact ~for everyone’s greater good in the long-run~ now that he’s getting more information about how bad things are going currently. (Or not, and he could still persist in his isolation anyway.)

I’m still curious about Daisy’s and Melanie’s stances because both of them know they’ve been under influence, and Jon was the one who gave them other options. Both would have personal reasons to feel very mad at him (Jonathan “Do what I say, not what I do” Sims had told Melanie it was time to heal, and told Daisy that There Were Always Choices… when he had already attacked two people), with various degrees of betrayal. I’m sad in advance for Daisy, as she had grown kinda close to Jon since she had come back from the coffin and he… hadn’t… told her… about the live-statements… although she would have been the most likely to understand…, and it’s probably not a good idea at all to have them interact without supervision (if Daisy was beginning to “hear her blood” when thinking about Elias, what would happen now that she knows that Jon had been going more monster-y?) but. I want to hear Daisy’s perspective on these things. (Although I’m worried about Jon’s hesitation in MAG148, please, don’t be Hunting again ;;). As for Melanie, I want her to kick Jon’s butt and call him out on his hypocrisy about “healing” and (break of) trust; at the same time, given that she’s currently making efforts to make better, she’s probably in the best position to do so in a productive way.

(Though there is still the question of What Can They Do?, re:Jon… Melanie got a clearer head (and some additional trauma) following the bullet’s removal. Daisy, who had been a Hunter for a looong time, was cut from The Hunt thanks to the coffin. But how could they possibly cut Jon from The Eye? He was still using his powers in the coffin and his personality has been aligned to Beholding for a long time (Georgie had pointed out that Jon had always been the kind to ask questions that could get himself punched), to the point that it’s extremely hard to establish if Jon had been influenced or if it had been him without any spook involved at various points in the series – the gnawing curiosity about the tunnels all through season 2 is a prime example, and although most of Jon’s actions made sense in context (coming along with Basira to be there to help if Hill Top Road turns out too dangerous; seeing the Dark Sun to neutralise it; agreeing to come with Basira to the North Pole to make sure that The Dark wouldn’t succeed its ritual; going down in the coffin to save Daisy; going to talk to Jared and agreeing to exchange a rib against his statement to learn who had sent Jared after the archival staff; planning Melanie’s surgery; going to The Unknowing because he was worried about Tim’s safety; etc.), it’s still possible that Jon wanted to know and experience these things, first-hand, and was only rationalising to himself secondary reasons to put himself in danger like this.So how would they be able to remove him from The Eye’s influence in the same way that Daisy got cut from The Hunt in the coffin…? Could using The Dark or The Stranger or The Spiral help, given how they feel like opposite to The Eye? Gouging Jon’s eyes out? Anchoring him to another avatar like what happened with Gertrude and Agnes…?)

- ;; Kinda hoping that this isn’t the last we’re hearing of Georgie, nor of Georgie-and-Jon… because we already got the “Jon used to get along with x person for years / Jon fucked up hard / too many fuckups / now x person is giving up on him, and it’s Definite And Absolute and their relationship is broken forever” scenario with… Tim? And the series tends to break more long-lasting bonds than it creates (I doubt that Basira&Daisy will stay a duo for long, especially now with the fact that 1°) Basira had hidden that she had let Jon extort Floyd’s statement, 2°) Basira had hidden she has been following Elias’s leads through the season; Basira and Jon, who used to share the same humour, are a Disaster this season; Melanie, who was kinda getting along with Basira as a gossip unit, felt objectified by her; Melanie and Jon never really got along to begin with… There is still Georgie-and-Melanie at the moment, and a bit of Melanie-and-Daisy in the background, but… that’s it.

And in Georgie-and-Jon’s case: there is the fact that Jon mentioned to Melanie, back in season 2, that their break-up had been… bad, at least according to him. Yet, they were still able to be super friendly in season 3. Which means that they have a history of Patching Things Up even though their relationship changes. As mentioned, we already got The Definitive Fall-Out thing with Tim, so I still want to hope that Jon&Georgie cooould… manage to talk things out at some point, or at least have a proper goodbye to give themselves some closure or something. Unless Jon launches The Watcher’s Crown in the next 10 episodes.

… I want to see The Admiral and hear him purr again, gdi.

(- AND I’M STILL “????” OVER THE NEAR ABSOLUTE ABSENCE OF TIM MENTIONS THIS SEASON… From Melanie&Daisy&Basira, I’m not surprised; and right, he’s been dead for a year at this point, and Martin additionally had his mother and we didn’t hear his own feelings about it either; but it’s only been a few months from Jon, and I’m still ? over the fact that Jon… wasn’t able to remember how they had neutralised The Unknowing, back in MAG122.

Especially right now, with Georgie bringing up self-care and cutting yourself from toxic people, and how some people just spiral into their own destruction… Because, surely, the bottom line can’t be that dying is the best option? Daisy brought that notion back when talking with Martin in MAG142 (about how maybe Melanie had been right to want to kill Elias), and we had a glimpse of that through Tim’s spiralling descent into anger&revenge with a bit of suicide ideation thrown in the mix; it was his Answer to everything that was happening to him, it was the only option he deemed acceptable, he was embracing it and admitted in MAG117 that he probably didn’t want to survive The Unknowing anyway… And so, it was sad as fuck and not something to glorify.)

- And all these Relationship Fall-Outs are a good occasion to remember that Peter Lukas has been running the Institute for around a year, now, and HOW CURIOUS it is that characters have been (even more than usual) unable to work together or to trust each other efficiently.

(… Though, nowadays, Peter is apparently less and less present. So, if he’s indeed been… making things worse just by being there, who is currently casting The Lonely on the Institute? Is it Martin?)

- Also brought up again in the midst of the discussion: the fact that the Institute in itself… isn’t neutral, and potentially influences people:

(MAG062) MARY: Mm. Well, they don’t understand up there. They don’t know what this place is. You do, though, don’t you? We’re on the same side, really, even if Elias disagrees. GERTRUDE: If you say so.

(MAG065) ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. But I don’t think I can fire you either. TIM: What? ARCHIVIST: It’s this place. TIM: I don’t understand. ARCHIVIST: Neither do I. [STATIC FADES] I’m trying to figure it out, I’ve– I’ve got the shape of it but… I’m sorry, Tim. Truly I am. But I cannot, and will not, trust you. This place isn’t right, you see that now. I don’t know how or why, but there is something very wrong with the Archives. And I don’t know who here is a victim of it… and who is an agent. TIM: So… what do we do? ARCHIVIST: For now? I suppose we just… do our jobs. TIM: I don’t want to. ARCHIVIST: No…

(MAG079) TIM: There is something in this place, and it’s messing up our heads. It watches us all the time. It stops me quitting. I’m pretty sure it would stop Elias firing Jon even if he decided to actually try running this place for once. MARTIN: You’re sure you don’t just want to stay? TIM: I’m sure. MARTIN: But, like, deep down– TIM: No. MARTIN: … Oh.

(MAG080) ARCHIVIST: This place belongs to one of them, doesn’t it? LEITNER: You know the answer to that. ARCHIVIST: The Eye. LEITNER: I have also heard it called Beholding. ARCHIVIST: And I… LEITNER: You belong to it too.

(MAG090) TIM: … You do know, right? I mean, you must know. ELIAS: Know what? TIM: About this place. About what it does to us. ELIAS: [SIGH] Tim, this place is very old. It has all sorts of... idiosyncrasies and not all of them are good for the people who work here. TIM: I think I’d prefer asbestos.

(MAG092) ELIAS: Jonah Magnus did leave him in that place, Jon. He got the letter, oh yes, and was on good terms with Mordechai Lukas. He could have interceded, perhaps even saved him, but he did not. And it was not out of malice, or because he lacked affection for Barnabas Bennett […]. No, it was because he was curious. Because he had to know, to watch and see it all. That’s what this place is, Jon, never forget it. You may believe yourself to have friends, to have confidantes, but in the end, all they are, is something for you to watch, to know, and ultimately to discard. This, at least, Gertrude understood. […] There’s so much of this place, of ourselves, twisted by forces far beyond us. I just wanted you to know– [DOOR OPENS] […] Yes, I was just saying to Jon. It’s very important to me you understand that no action I have taken has been controlled. I have done everything because I wished to.

(MAG098) TIM: Look, it’s not that. I… [SIGH] This place is evil, Martin. And I think doing what It wants? Probably makes us evil. And It wants those things to be read. I mean, I’m not going to stop you, but, at the same time… MARTIN: I– I get it.

(MAG114) TIM: Anyway, you’re a spook too now, aren’t you? This place loves you too much to let you get swapped.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I don’t understand. MELANIE: No? You don’t, do you? He’s still alive. You are still alive. So THIS PLACE is still–! [HEAVY STRANGLED BREATHING] ARCHIVIST: Melanie! Melanie, this isn’t you–

(MAG128, Breekon) “That was the first time we saw what would become this place, The Eye’s Pedestal. But we were drunk on the dawning horror of transportation and took no heed of it.”

(MAG149) MARTIN: … This place isn’t a sickness. GEORGIE: No, I–I think it’s worse. […] MELANIE: Who were you talking to…? GEORGIE: Oh, I was, uh– … [HUFF] No one, apparently. MELANIE: [SIGH] … Yeah. This place will do that to you…!

How fitting, that Melanie, who sounds better lately… has also been getting out more, at least for therapy. Thus removing herself a bit from the Institute, after spending months holed up in there with Basira. (… This is not an invitation for Jon to go roam outside unsupervised again.)

(And Peter had told Martin that he needed the Institute for his plans, and Martin suspected that it was about the tunnels under it. … is the building getting destroyed by the end of the season. BURN, BABY, BURN.)

- What a perfect time, also, to remember that Jon had wondered out loud back in MAG139 about why they had been “chosen”, and hadn’t been able to find an answer. But we know, concretely, about Some People Who Did Some Choosing, and who are doing their damn bestest to be perceived as comedically useless recently, uh. Peter keeps being away and fake-friendly and not helping with anything even about dealing with The Extinction; and Elias allowed Basira to come see him although he was expecting to get beaten up, and pretended that he had messed up here and there and didn’t know much about anything. But. Elias, why did you specifically pick Jon as the next Archivist, even though Xiaoling had offered someone for the position. Why did you specifically send Peter to meet Martin in MAG108, and why Peter’s fixation with Martin.

(I’m still ?? over that last point because, strategically? Elias had just wrecked Melanie after she had tried to kill him multiple times and wanted to keep going; he wasn’t above doing that. And meanwhile, Tim had provoked him, made it extremely clear he would go against the Circus solo even though Elias was telling him not to – and as far as being lonely/isolated went… Tim was like, the perfect option? Still at a loss with what had happened with Sasha, still grieving his brother? So why did Elias choose to send Peter to Martin, who wasn’t a threat to him at the time? Was it only because of the hopeless pining after Jon – since Melanie&Basira had just made it explicit in MAG106 (… and some part of me still wants to believe that Elias. Hadn’t picked up on it until then. Hadn’t noticed. Because he tended to never take Martin into account)? But then, those were Martin’s feelings for Jon, not the reverse, so even if the plan was to isolate Jon more, it wouldn’t have changed anything…?)

- orz orz orz And it’s always a good (bad) moment to remember that:

(MAG126) MARTIN: … When all this is over, I’m telling him everything, with or without your permission. PETER: Martin… when it’s over, you won’t want to. MARTIN: … Mm. PETER: But he will be safe. They all will. MARTIN: … Yeah.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I think he wants me to join The Lonely. ELIAS: Then it sounds like you have a decision to make. […] MARTIN: I don’t know what I expected. [INHALE] Right. Right, we’re done here. [CHAIR SCRAPING ON THE FLOOR] [STEPS LEAVING] ELIAS: Don’t forget to keep in touch, Martin. There are so many people in here, but without one’s friends… [DOOR LOCKING] it does get rather lonely.

(Gasp, yeah, it sounded almost like ADVICE coming from Elias’s mouth, under the obvious gratuitous jab. Shockingly.)

(Aaaand Peter hadn’t been clear about what would make Martin not want to tell Jon: whether it would be because of Jon’s evolution, or because of Martin’s. Right now, we’re getting both, and Martin is getting more comfortable in his isolation…………………. I still hope that if he had a Plan to backstab Peter, he’ll still carry through it and manage to pull that one off (hey, he had already revealed that he was recording the statements for Jon and intended for the tapes to reach him at some point) but ;; In any case, it won’t be pretty, uh…)

Title for MAG150 is… *Undignified French snicker* Écoutez, je suis une personne simple, on peut vraiment réutiliser le titre de façon dégueulasse si on enfonce cette porte ouverte.

It’s funny, because there is an English equivalent for this one, and Jon was using it so much in season 1 and 2 that I had begun to make the compilation of its occurrences, and it had been used both in its concrete and abstract meanings. … It had specifically been used in MAG041, too, which put me in mind of the tunnels under the Institute (title would fiiiit) and the circle of worms, so I wanna Believe In A Corruption Statement because I’ll do that every week under The Filth gets its share in season 4.

Other options: mmm, we know that Gertrude and Gerry had travelled in France when tracking The Stranger so there could be something additional to this and/or the return of Jon Fluently Reading/Understanding languages he doesn’t know? Or it could be a reference to the movie of the same name – Lonely one, then, possibly? Would be a good title for a Buried statement, too, though we already got the coffin mini-arc not that long ago. Literally, it also puts to mind MAG005’s statement (… and in more than one way) so… could be… about that… too… (in which case: Flesh? Hunt?).

Second meaning of the title is L-O-L, that’s. That’s a nice summary of this little soap opera you call an Archive’s current state of affair. (And it’s… nice to think back to the concrete meaning and how, to get out of one, you have… to admit that you made a mistake and take a few steps back in order to revaluate your options. … Or to pursue your initial plans and to crash against the wall/make the wall crumble. Oh no.)

[vialofpyrite]

A list of all relevant tags for ease of navigation purposes!

-> Ships and AUs

[michaelmyersmalewife]

LEVIATHAN | 2. Reconnect | MASTERLIST

words: 4k+

warning(s): mild violence (described but not explicit)

A/N: got nothing much to say other than this is a long one & thank u for keeping up with this !! i’m gonna try to get a new chapter up every monday so keep an eye out for that

you can also support this fic on wattpad & ao3

Earth, 2019: Monarch Outpost 61 - Yunnan Rainforest, China

Madison stared at her laptop screen with an empty expression, headphones blasting a song that had become nothing but white noise in her ears.

As she scrolled through dozens of emails - most of which consisted of newsletters and petitions crooning about the next animal to make it to the endangered list, climate change, and the overall hubris that is the current government, among other things - what had her chewing her lip with nerves was a single email, short and sweet, from her father. How a single "How's it going?" could make her so nervous, she would never know. With a deep inhale, she clicked on the message.

Hey Madison, Haven't heard from you guys in a few months. Hope you're having fun. Here are a few pics of the wolves I've been studying. Aren't they cute? Love, Dad

Below were three photos of gray wolves, one of which showed two pups play-fighting with each other in the middle of a grassy field. As she continued scrolling down, her eyes widened, narrowing as she continued on. It was a photo of her? But she was much younger, 10 at the oldest. The next featured her father as well, proudly holding up what looked like a fairly small trout while she smiled next to him. A small grin appeared on her face.

She remembered that day, how her father sacrificed a weekend where he was supposed to be out doing field work but instead spent it with her in the form of a fishing trip. While they hadn't caught much, she remembers insisting on releasing what they did catch almost immediately afterward. But not before getting quick pictures for memory's sake.

Madison typed, slowly at first but she could feel all the words she wanted - needed - to say spill forth. She reeled them in.

Hey dad, Sorry I haven't written back. I miss you, but there's something I want to talk to you about...I'm getting worried about mom.

An alarm blared in her ears, startling her out of focus with a jump.

"Shit." she whispered harshly under her breath, throwing her headphones on the counter.

As she turned to look at the source of the smoke slowly but surely filling her senses, the fire underneath the pan licked at her hands. Her trail of expletives only increased.

Grabbing the pan with no afterthought, she winced, nearly burning her hand on the stovetop when the fire underneath only increased in intensity. Quickly flicking the thin blackened strips of what used to be bacon onto a plate, she heard the patter of footsteps quickly approaching from behind.

"Maddie?"

"Uhhh, good morning?"

As Madison hurriedly ran the charred pan under a thin stream of water in the sink, Emma Russell turned off the stove with a flick of her wrist, grabbing a rag from the counter and blowing away the thick cloud of smoke that had formed in her kitchen. Madison opened a window.

"I made us breakfast!"

"I can see that." she said with a tired chuckle, turning off the alarm.

"It's, uh..eggs, toast, and.." her voice trailed off, scrunching her nose as she looked at the strips that resembled sticks of charcoal more than anything. "Bacon?"

Emma's eyes flicked to the toaster, popping out the two slices before they too became little more than a smoldering pile.

"Well, which do you recommend?" she said with a smile, eyes crinkling with amusement.

"How about we just skip the bacon?" Madison laughed.

"Sounds good," Emma said, picking up a plate, voice softening with sincerity. "Thank you."

Madison gave her a tight-lipped smile and grabbed the second plate, turning around and shutting the laptop in front of her.

"Coffee?" she asked as she poured herself a cup. Emma nodded, resting her head in her hand and glancing down at the sticker-coated laptop. There was an unmistakable fatigue in her eyes, a look that Madison had become all too familiar with.

It was always like that around this time of year. She knew her mother had been staying up into the late hours of the night, almost treading early morning, for the past couple days or so working on that project of hers. Her mother had always seen it as some sort of salvation, a way to undo the mistakes that had already been done. But as it sat there on the counter right next to her, Madison only saw it as a reminder of a time she had tried so hard to forget.

"What were you working on?"

Madison bristled. "I was just looking at recipes."

"For toast?" Emma took a swig of the coffee. It was bitter and watery.

Madison worried at her lip once more. "Dad's been," she scratched the back of her head. "He's been emailing me again."

Emma sighed, picking at the cold eggs with a fork.

"But he looks good, healthy I mean."

"Have you responded?"

"Not yet."

"Madison, I just - You know I don't want to see you get hurt."

"I know." she said between mouthfuls of eggs and toast.

"Especially with everything that's going on right n-"

"I know." she downed it with a sip of coffee, swallowing a gag from the bitter aftertaste.

"Listen, I know things haven't been easy, but we're gonna get through this." she leaned forward. "Together."

Madison stayed silent, unwilling to look her mother in the eye. "You sure he's gonna be okay?"

"He's in the safest place he can be right now."

Madison looked up, skeptical. Rubbing her arms from a sudden chill, Emma turned to the side, placing a hand on what looked like a bulky suitcase emblazoned with the signature Monarch logo on the front.

"Wanna hear some good news?"

Madison shrugged.

"I finished it." she said, pushing her chair in.

"Really." she had heard this many times before. "You think it'll work this time?"

Emma nodded slowly. "It's gonna work."

Suddenly, the ground shook. Chair and tables rattled as glasses clinked together, sloshing its contents and spilling over the counter. The lights that hung from the ceiling waved around in circles. Madison gripped the table. And with a shrill cry like that of a hundred birdsongs, the tremors ended. Emma gazed out the window, brows furrowing. Madison joined her, still trembling.

"It's gonna be okay." Madison whispered under her breath.

Emma put an arm around her shoulder.

Static sounded out of nowhere as she quickly reached for the radio at her side.

"Dr. Russell? We've got a problem."

"I'm on my way."

Outside in the heart of the Yunnan Rainforest, all the creatures that dwelled in its depths chittered with unrest. Something was coming.

_____

"What the hell happened?"

"No idea." the doctor was out of breath, attempting to balance the tablet in his hand and a radio in the other. "She was sleeping like a baby until an hour ago then - boom - radiation levels went through the roof. Almost like something triggered it."

Madison dragged behind, one hand on the strap of her backpack and the other still tugging a hand through the arm of her oversized jacket. She didn't think she'd ever get used to the scenery of this place, how the vines that wove through the temple like lace seemed to crawl on their own. She could swear they were in a different position every time she walked through that narrow tunnel.

"Thanks, Tim. You should get some rest, I can take it from here."

He stopped dead in his tracks, almost in disbelief. "Sleep or no sleep, I'm not missing this."

As the two doctors carried on, Madison hung back, staring in awe at the intricate relief carved into the stone of the temple's wall. When she and her mother first got stationed at Outpost 61, there was nothing but a curtain of hardy vines and aggregated dirt. But now it told a story that Madison could only begin to understand. Two workers clad in sterile blue suits that covered nearly every inch of their body fussed carefully, scraping away plant matter and other detritus away from the architecture. They had been at it for weeks, but she couldn't imagine having that kind of patience. She walked up to their side, tilting her head with a curious gaze.

On the wall was a moth, a giant moth, with what looked like two equally large larva at its side. Below them were vastly smaller figures that looked to be humans bowing in supplication before them. At the forefront of the group were two identical feminine figures standing next to each other with their arms outstretched toward the giant moth. It was an odd sight.

"'Sup, Mads?"

She jumped, startled out of her daze. It was Dr. Gillian, leaning next to her and staring up at the relief with a fondness that a parent would have looking at their child.

"Did I scare you?" she spoke with a chuckle, lowering the surgical mask.

"No." she comically glowered at her before having her already messy hair tousled.

"Hey, you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine it's just.." she sighed, adjusting the backpack strap. "It's been a morning."

"I hear that." Gill stood back, crossing her arms and joining Madison in her deep fascination of the relief.

"Beautiful, isn't it? If I saw something like that I know I'd hail it as a god."

"It's just an animal, though."

Gill shrugged. "I dunno. These things a lot smarter than we give 'em credit for."

As she faced the window, looking out into the containment cell, Madison followed her gaze. "Imagine the stories they could tell."

Over the speakers, a grainy voice echoed throughout the temple. "Containment team, move into position."

Madison and Gill glanced at each other, moving closer to the array of monitors where a handful of scientists stood huddled together. Behind the pane of glass was a giant sac, pulsing with a bright blue light. And something else.

"Have you tried sedatives?" Emma brushed her bangs to the side, adjusting the mic on her headpiece.

"No effect. This thing wants to be born."

"Proceed with utmost caution."

Madison walked up to the glass, mouth agape at the lightshow.

Sighing, Emma placed a hand on her shoulder, a warm expression spreading across her face. "Her time has come."

In that moment, the sac burst, falling away as though it were nothing but a hardy blanket as the larva rose like a pillar. The lab was silent, each breath caught in the throats of the people that witnessed the birth of a creature once considered a goddess. The pulsing grew with intensity, a humming filling the chamber as the larva was finally free of her slumber.

Gill brought a shaking hand to her brow, giggling with disbelief at the sight of something so precious - so rare.

The larva's limbs shivered, mandibles clicking with curiosity as ribbons of light trailed up and down her back. She had seen this place before. And something built within the deepest parts of her psyche told her that she would see it many times after. The larva turned around, looking down at the small hazmat-clad beings like one would look at a lost puppy.

"Meet Titanus Mosura." Tim spoke with reverent pride. "Or as we like to call her-"

"Mothra." Madison and Gill said in unison. They laughed.

"Incredible.." Emma whispered.

"Activating containment grid." said an automated voice.

In an instant, dozens of beams shot up from the ground, surrounding the larva. The larva winced, trilling with confusion. Innocently, she brought a pointed arm to the grid, pushing at it with caution. She lowered her head, forcing her way through the field but setting off a series of warnings as the grid now glowed a bright red. As quickly as the grid was turned on, it was shut off. As the AI blared a series of "Warning's", Emma turned around to the team of scientists behind her in frustration.

"What's happening?"

The larva released a shrill cry, thrashing about in the small space she was confined to. She was afraid. Below her the security team readied their stun rifles, aiming directly at her. A look of fear washed over Tim's face as he looked over the shoulder of one of the Monarch scientists.

"Something's going wrong here. Th-The containment systems are failing, perimeter alarms are going off - the whole network's going insane!"

"What do you mean? How is that even possible?"

Tim lowered his voice, worry palpable in his tone "This isn't from anything on our end, I-I think someone else is doing this."

Within the cell the larva continued its frightened rampage, limbs tearing at the walkway beneath it.

"Containment team, stand down. I repeat, stand down, you're scaring her!" Emma yelled into her mic.

As one of the guards aimed his rifle at the larva, trigger finger catching on the handle and releasing a short but audible spark, the larva stared down at him. Something in her demeanor changed, her blue light shifting to a deep, angry red. She huffed. Like flicking a crumb off a table, the man flew from the walkway to the exit door with a loud thud with the flex of the larva's arm.

With a yell, another guard pointed his rifle at the larva, this time giving no room for hesitation. The shot found its mark, hitting the larva dead center in her chest. As she writhed in pain from the electricity, she released a cry that made Madison's ears ring. Gill stood next to her in complete shock, hands covering her mouth as she looked to the team scrambling to make sense of the situation and back at the larva.

The larva also showed no hesitation, shooting a thick strand of silk at the men, catching four of them in the sticky web that covered the containment chamber. The rest had decided the fight was no longer worth it, no fight was when dealing with a titan. As they sprinted for the exit, one tripped, finding his leg caught between the mandibles of the larva herself. He screamed as he was lifted into the air, hitting the web with a thud.

With a haunted look on his face, Tim opened a glass lid, hand hovering over a red button. Gill grabbed his wrist, betrayal in her voice.

"NO!"

"I'm sorry, but you know the protocols, we have to terminate her."

"Don't, I'll handle this." Emma said, the same bulky suitcase tucked tightly under her arm.

Madison's heart caught in her throat, grabbing the hem of her mother's lab coat without thinking. "Mom-!"

"Madison, stay here" she nodded assuredly. "It's gonna work."

Emma pressed her clearance badge through the door's scanner, locking it behind her. A rush of sterile mist covered her and she took a deep, shaky breath through her nose. Her hands thrummed along the surface of the object she held. This wasn't just going to work, it had to.

Within the cell the larva writhed, confusion, anger, hurt wracking her body as her senses quickly became overwhelmed with chaos. So much for the birthday party.

"It's okay.." Emma whispered. She wasn't sure if that was for herself or the larva.

Slowly, she walked down the aisle, shoulders squared. The larva looked directly at her, hunched over and defensive. Even as a juvenile she was intimidating. Emma continued walking before the larva shook the walkway once more, nearly knocking her to her feet had she not caught the railing in the nick of time.

Behind the glass, Madison gripped Gill's arms as they stayed protectively wrapped around her. As Emma knelt down, setting the case on the floor of the walkway, the larva rose. She knew of the power she contained, rattling the carapace plates and snapping her mandibles at the woman as red-orange lights glowed from within her. She opened the case, eyes blinking rapidly between the larva and the device's unfolding panels. It whirred as it started itself. Emma tapped at the screen in a frenzy, trying as fast as she could to find the frequency she needed. Soon enough, with the right flick of a button the device released a sound, but the words on the screen that read "Analyzing Specimen Bioacoustics" had not changed. Emma cursed as the device released a series of pulses not unlike the ones the larva made, but not quite the same. The larva shook its head to rid itself of the noise, shooting a tendril of silk at Emma and just barely missing her before she could duck for cover. Madison wrenched herself free from Gill's grip, banging her hands on the glass.

"Mom!"

Emma returned to the device, shutting off the volume and scanning for a new frequency. Her mind raced, a thin layer of sweat gathering across her brow before she ducked to the side, once again narrowly missing being caught in a web. Madison's face scrunched in frustration and fear, turning around and snatching the badge off of Gill's coat.

"Hey!"

"Madison, wait!"

Gill and Tim ran for the girl but she was much too fast, pressing the badge to the scanner and slipping through the door in one swift motion. She locked it shut just before the two could pry it open.

In horror, Emma saw Madison rush towards her.

"Maddie, go back!"

The larva roared, anger and confusion imminent.

"NO!"

Without thinking, almost as if it were instinct, Madison stood between her mother and the newly born titan. Her arm raised out in defense. She could hear her mother still messing with the object she had brought with her, hoping that somehow it would work and save them both. Madison shut her eyes as the larva dove at them, digging her nails into the palm of her balled fist as she stayed standing. Tears stung at the edges of her eyes.

Like her brother, this was how she was going to die.

But nothing came.

Madison opened her eyes one at a time, gasping when she saw that the room was slowly but surely fading from red to blue. The larva was frozen as well, standing still as her limbs quivered close to her body. Slowly, it bent down, leaning forward to look closer at the small, bold being before it.

"What in the world.." Tim said in utter disbelief.

The bright blue lights thrummed throughout the larva's body in a way that reminded Emma of all the times she calmed Madison when she could only speak in gibberish.

"It's gonna be okay." Madison whispered, edging herself closer to the larva.

In that moment, Madison felt small. Smaller than the time she went on a roller coaster with her father at a carnival one weekend that ended up getting stuck at the top of a fairly high drop. Smaller than the time she had accidentally swam out past a sand bar at the beach. Swept up in the current far out enough that she couldn't reach the bottom and having to be fished out by some random bystander that happened to be nearby. In that moment, as she gazed into the bright eyes of the larva - no, Mothra - she understood that she was in the presence of something far, far bigger and far, far older than she could ever hope to understand.

Mothra knelt, curiously sniffing the tiny hand that reached out for her.

Shutting the device closed, Emma jumped, protectively grabbing Madison's arm. As the girl looked back, a wave of calm so sudden it frightened her washed over her face. Her grip loosened.

The larva was practically pressing her head into the girl's palm, and with a stretch of her fingers, she brushed the surface of her carapace. In that instant something clicked within Madison's mind. She couldn't quite put a name to it, but the words were just at the tip of her tongue. It was almost as if something - or someone - was pushing those words directly into her brain.

Mothra hummed, releasing a warm puff of air into the duo's faces that pushed them back a few feet. Madison smiled as the tear that had gathered at the edge of her eye rolled down her cheek.

Emma looked back into the lab, a mix of confusion and awe peppering everyone's faces.

But in that same second, a loud blast shook the temple with an ugly crash, followed by the sound of gunfire. Madison gasped, falling into her mother's arms as the larva quickly raised itself, defensively draping its body over the pair.

Madison couldn't see inside the lab, but the sound of bodies hitting the floor after every gunshot left little to the imagination. She sat still, allowing her mother to cradle her.

Tim was standing directly in front of the pane of glass when a bullet shot through his head, shattering the window. This time Madison did scream, curling into her mother's hold as she turned her head away seconds too late. The larva roared as a man dressed head to toe in black stepped through the glass and onto the walkway, followed by a group of men and women in a similar uniform, each holding what looked like assault rifles.

The man looked up at the young goddess with an unreadable expression, almost as if he had been expecting to see an insect the size of a building. Slowly, his gaze wandered down, meeting eyes with Madison herself. She shivered, but something about the man made an ugly, angry feeling burn within her.

Earth, 2019 - Wichita, Kansas

Elena poured herself a second cup of coffee, stirring in two spoonfuls of sugar and a shot of creamer in an almost robotic manner.

This time of the year always weighed heavily in her mind, and despite the overabundance of coverage all across the globe she did her best to avoid it. This year, however, she found ignoring it especially hard. As she flipped through channels, she stared ahead from across the room with a blank face, jaw tightening the more she carried on.

"Thousands gathered in the bay area last night to honor the victims of the 2014 attacks -"

" - part of the waves of memorials - and protests - demanding that the secretive monster-hunting coalition known as Monarch be held accountable."

"The recent spike in mass die-offs in the world's oceans could be caused by efforts to locate and track Godzilla, who hasn't been seen in nearly five years. The U.S. government refuses to disclose any involvement at this time."

"The mysterious organization - Monarch - is set to face another intense grilling as U.S. senators continue to push for extermination of the titans. And rumors persist that Monarch may be hiding even more creatures discovered since the attacks of 2014, a historic tragedy that changed the world as we know it forever - the day the world discovered that monsters are real."

With a sharp intake of air Elena shut off the tv, tossing the remote back on the counter and taking a large gulp of coffee.

It had been 5 years. 5 long years since the horror of her childhood was suddenly thrust into the spotlight. And with it came a flood of memories that even now she was still sorting out. She groaned, rubbing her eyes.

Deep breaths. Monarch is in the past. Your life is your own now. Just breathe.

She repeated those words in her mind in an endless loop, to the point where they melded into nothing but a string of meaningless sounds.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

She flinched at the sound. Brows furrowing, Elena carefully placed the mug on the counter, staring intently at the direction of the door. There was a second knock. Tucking her hair behind her ears, she stepped towards it, slowly - quietly. Before she could stand on the tips of her toes a third knock sounded from beyond the door, followed by muffled voices that almost seemed to be bickering if she listened closely enough. Confusion settling in with the quiet fear that burgeoned in her stomach like a swarm of frantic butterflies, she looked through the small peephole that sat just beneath the door's window.

Through it, she saw two figures. One of which was a woman sporting a platinum blonde crew cut, wearing a blank expression save for her lips twisting to the side with impatience. Accompanying her was a dark-haired man with a similar hairstyle, looking far more irritated than her. They both wore similar black uniforms, the collar reaching all the way up to their necks. An odd choice for a sunny May morning.

"We know you're there, Ms. Navarro." the woman spoke with a raised voice, what sounded like an English accent peppering her words. Their eyes connected through the peephole. Reluctantly, Elena opened the door, fingers moving from one lock to another, to another, and to another, eventually stopping on the chain that held the door to the wall. The woman was much taller than she expected.

"Yes?" Elena gulped. "What do you want?"

The man shifted his position, eyes briefly glancing up at the woman before staring ahead.

"Just a moment of your time. We're journalists looking for a civilian's introspective on the 2014 attacks, that's all."

Her voice was so steady, smooth even - like hearing running water. Elena swallowed a gasp when she found her hand hovering above the last of the locks. She closed her hand into a fist.

"I'm sorry, but I'm not interested."

The woman smiled but it did not reach her eyes.

"We'll pay you." the man chimed in.

"I said I'm not interested, thank you."

As Elena went to shut the door, the woman's foot jutted through the entrance, boot scraping against the floor. A sharp chill ran down her spine.  In a hushed, shaky voice, she looked at the woman.

".....Are you with Monarch?"

Almost immediately the pair's demeanor changed to that of barely restrained amusement. Somehow, that didn't make Elena feel any better.

"We're not with any of your government organizations, Ms. Navarro. There's no need to worry."

Elena paused for a moment, staring at the two figures before her lips tightened to a thin line.

"Well, thank you for your interest but I'm not interested, sorry. Have a good day." she spoke in a rushed tone.

As she went to close the door again, the woman's boot remained unphased. Elena could barely form a sound in her throat before the woman motioned to the man with a tilt of her head, instantly raising his leg and slamming the foot of his boot against the door. It only took one good kick to its center to send the steel chain flying along with the door, knocking Elena on her back several feet backward.

Her heart was slamming against her chest as she struggled to catch the breath that had been knocked out of her. Her shoulder throbbed where the door had connected with it, but there was no time to dwell. As Elena scrambled to her feet, the woman calmly stepped over the fallen door as the man stomped his way into her home, standing above her with a cold air around them.

Before she could slip away, the woman sprung forward, arms latching around her own as she pulled them taut behind her back. She could feel her breath hit hair that draped down her back.

"It'll be easier for you if you just comply with -"

With a growl, Elena's head shot backward, connecting with the woman's chin. One hand left her grasp while the other stayed clamped around her arm, but within seconds Elena had wrenched herself free, clawing at the other woman's hand.

The man was already in action, arms reaching for her but missing their mark when Elena ducked under him, sliding along the floor and springing back up on her feet. As she sprinted up the stairs to her room, she released a grunt when her arm caught on the railing, already feeling a bruise forming along her shoulder.

"Useless." the woman spoke through gritted teeth.

She could barely hear their hurried steps quickly gaining behind her over the sound of her pulse beating through her chest. But after what felt like ages she finally reached her room, shutting and locking it behind her before diving into her closet.

Mere seconds had passed before she heard slowing footsteps just outside of the room. Cursing to herself, she pressed a panel on the wall with her fist, impatiently shoving her hands into the secret space and pulling out a weathered bag. As she rifled through it, she heard the woman's footsteps cease.

"You did this to yourself, Elena. If you hadn't been so difficult .."

The doorknob jiggled, and for a second Elena thought she had lost all ability to breathe. Finally, she pulled out the object she had been looking for. But in that same moment, there was a deafening crash as the door slammed to the ground, followed by a pair of heavy footsteps. As the woman rounded the corner to the closet, Elena aimed -

"It wouldn't have escalated, now, would it?"

- her flare gun. Shit.

The woman showed no emotion when she shot Elena, a jolt of electricity coursing through her body as she faded into unconsciousness.

[burlybanner]

Syzygy - 5

Syzygy - An AU of Infundo (post-Infundo Chronicles).

Chapter 5: Phase Trials 2

Chapter 5 Summary:  Dr. Banner and Mr. Hulk.

Link to Chapter 1, 2, 3, 4

** Giving Hulk control wasn't as easy as just saying it, though. Bruce definitely wanted Steve to observe - preferably Steve and Tony both. "He hasn't earned this level of trust," he admitted. "And I'm not comfortable with him in the driving seat."

"He knows that," Tony huffed. Tony seemed a lot more at ease with the prospect that Bruce ever would be. "He's been itchin' to come out, sure, but he knows the two of you have to share the one body. He's more okay with it than you give him credit for."

Bruce grit his teeth. "I know you trust him, since he saved your life and all - "

"You both did."

"Nevertheless," Bruce said, cutting him off. "He's very unpredictable. Even with my resolve he has moments of wanting to break free and I will never, ever feel comfortable giving him control. The whole 'give an inch' idiom is extremely à propos. Give him an inch, and he'll take a fucking planet. You have to watch him."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, Banner."

"I mean it." Of course Hulk vehemently disagreed, but Bruce stuffed him down. "This isn't a game, it's my life. And by proxy, his. You can't fuck around."

Tony quieted at the urgency Bruce pressed on him and rubbed the back of his neck. "Fine, we'll 'watch' him, or whatever. But I'll prove to you that there's nothing to worry about. You'll see."

"I intend to," Bruce said. Part of the compromise included wearing a body camera every night, to see what Hulk saw and hear what Hulk heard. "I'll review the data each morning. And if I see anything untoward, the experiment's over. Done. No second chances."

Tony almost rolled his eyes but chose not to after Bruce shot him a deadly glare. "It'll be fine," he said.

"I hope so," Bruce muttered. But even if they tried it, he wasn't one hundred percent sure Hulk wouldn't do something against his will. Regardless of what he told the others.

**

"Is everything set?"

"For the fiftieth time, Banner--!"

"Stop." Steve felt Tony's shoulder's tense; he was practically vibrating. While Bruce thought Tony was acting cocky, Steve knew Tony's worry was equally high - he just had a weird way of showing it. "We're ready. D'you think you're relaxed enough to sleep?"

"I kinda have to be, don't I?" The nervous chuckle Bruce gave was less than reassuring. "I mean, unless he can take over when I'm wide awake, without me knowing."

Bruce was half-kidding and they could hear his gallows humor loud and clear. Ultimately losing himself to Hulk scared Bruce most, whether or not he voiced it. "We've got this, Muffin," Steve said, and he wrapped his arms as far as they could go around Bruce's midsection. "I'll take point tonight, Tony tomorrow night."

Bruce pointed to Tony. "You're sleeping in your nanosuit, right?"

Tony tapped his chest, and the lights woven into his shirt fabric glowed. "Not as comfy as I'd like, but I'm on backup. Trust us, Pooh. We got this."

"And I'm all set," Steve said, tugging his earlobe. "Jarvis has me connected. I won't miss anything."

"Okay...okay."

Bruce was anything but okay, though, so Steve held out his hands. "C'mon, let's try it," he said, waiting for Bruce to take his hands. He gently guided them back to their bed, crawled on top of the sheets, and motioned between his legs. "Sit."

Bruce's cheeks pinked up, but he swallowed and lumbered across the sheets to settle between Steve's legs. "Now lay back."

"Steve--"

"Do it."

Bruce huffed, but followed Captain America's command. Steve hid his smile; he'd unearthed small ways that calmed his boys, and as much as Bruce fought against the truth he loved Steve cuddling and nurturing him. He initially pretend not to, but Steve felt how quickly tension left Bruce's body when he took control and treated Bruce special. Bruce only accepted the whole, "I'm in charge, I can handle you" treatment from Steve.

And boy, did he take to it.

Steve widened his stance a little more, feeling his body respond as Bruce nestled in. Over the past few weeks he'd noticed Bruce's broadening backside, even if Bruce didn't. "That's it," Steve whispered. Bruce let out a small sigh as Steve cocooned him as much as he could. His arms couldn't reach around like they used to, but they could cuddle.

"Can I be jealous? I think I've got room to be jealous."

Steve chuckled and patted the bed’s edge. "There's plenty of room for both of you on this bed, Tony."

"Mm," Bruce let out a lengthy sigh. Steve could feel Bruce's body sink into his as they all flirted with sleep. He lightly fingered Bruce's curls, easing him further in. "Not for long."

Steve snorted and grabbed a pillow so Tony could lean against his left side. "Not for long," he agreed. "We'll make you into a marshmallow man yet."

"Now that I'd like to see," Tony said, yawning.

Me too, Steve thought, but he didn't voice it.

**

Captain Rogers.

Steve stirred. What--?

Steve. Captain Rogers.

"Uh?" He blinked. What time was it?

Sorry to disturb you, but you did ask me to alert you.

Steve tapped his ear as he became fully conscious. "Jarvis?"

Yes, Captain Rogers. I'm speaking from your earpiece. You asked me to alert you when Doctor Banner woke - he is currently on the move, and headed for the nearest kitchen.

"Oh, right. On my way."

Steve frowned; he should've felt Hulk’s movements, at the very least. Glancing at the other side of the bed Tony was snoring up a storm. Hulk hadn't disturbed Tony either, apparently.

"Jarvis?" He whispered. "Is Bruce...Bruce right now, or Hulk?"

The AI paused.

Apologies, sir. It's impossible to determine at this time.

Great. What the hell did that mean?

"Okay..." Steve made a face and put on his sweats before heading towards the north kitchen. Guess he'd figure it out when he got there. If it was bad he'd tell Jarvis to alert Tony, but he honestly had no clue what to expect.

In hindsight, they really should've asked Hulk more questions when he showed up.

**

As Steve skittered around the kitchen corner, the only thing he noticed was the wide-open fridge door. He'd come from the opposite side expecting to see Hulk towering over the kitchen island, but he didn't see Hulk. He heard intense munching from inside the refrigerator instead.

"Bruce?" He whispered.

"Grrah... No Banner! Hulk!"

What on earth...?

Steve padded over cautiously and peered over the fridge door. It certainly looked like Bruce, crouched and hunched inside the icebox. But there was something...animalistic about Bruce’s demeanor. Large crumbs and half-eaten empty dishes surrounded him while a mountain of food detritus stained the front of his shirt. He hunkered over a casserole dish with a turkey leg, and used said turkey leg to scoop up whatever existed in the casserole dish.

"Is Hulk!" He repeated loudly, spewing food in every direction. He glared at Steve from half-slit eyes and dug his turkey leg into the dish, taking another huge bite. Food bits fell off the turkey and down his robe.

Steve's mouth flew open. He couldn't help but stare a few beats before speaking. "Uh, wow. Now I see it." Hulk was in charge, but he'd kept Bruce small.

Incredible, Steve thought.

"Hmm!" Hulk-Bruce grunted and slammed the turkey leg into his chest as if asserting dominance. "Banner isn't Hulk. Hulk is Hulk. Hulk will make Banner like Hulk!"

Steve couldn't help the grin that suddenly teased the corners of his lips. "You're doing a great job, Hulk," he told him, and Hulk nodded proudly before tearing into the meat.

"Banner's still too puny," Hulk laughed. His voice was a hybrid between Bruce and Hulk's, low and rough with Bruce's timbre. "Hulk can make Banner all chubby, like Banner wants. But Hulk wants real food."

Steve scratched his chin, trying to decipher what Hulk meant. "Do you mean you like different things?"

Hulk grunted and used the turkey leg as a pointer. "Like that,” he growled, pointing to a casserole. “And that. Those are good. Not this." He pointed to a cake.

"Hmm." Steve pursed his lips, musing over the new information. It looked like Hulk liked meat and fried foods, but Bruce typically went for sweets. "Got it. We can have it ready tomorrow, Br--er, Hulk. Just tell us what you want."

"Mm. Good," Hulk muttered. He used the back of his arm to wipe away the food covering his chin and lips. "More of that," he said, pointing to cold fried chicken. "More grease."

"Anything else?" Steve started taking notes in his head. "You can have anything you want."

Hulk perked up, eyes widening. "Anything?"

Within reason, Steve thought, but he wasn't going to deny Hulk if he kept eating like this. "Sure," Steve said. "Name it."

**

"Oh my God." Bruce held his head in his hands as he reviewed the footage early next morning. "Steve, why the hell did you tell him--"

"C’mon, it's not that bad, Pooh Bear."

Bruce's eyebrow quirked as he glared at Tony.

"You're kidding, right?"

Tony shrugged. "It's not impossible."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "I can't understand how he knew."

"He sees everything I do, but he doesn't understand it. That's the problem." Bruce belched and rubbed his tummy. The stuffing from Hulk's night raid hurt, but he hoped to be hungry for lunch later. "There’s no way we can get all that crap. Even if we did, who the fuck could cook it?"

Tony smirked. "Leave it to me. I've got four-star chefs in my back pocket. If anyone knows, they will."

"He'd never know," Bruce muttered, even as Hulk roared in his head. "You could cook anything. He'd eat it."

Tony held up a hand. "Nothin' doin'. My Green Bean wants what he wants, and I'll get it for him hell or high water."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Bruce said, sighing miserably.

Christ. He felt ill.

**

Steve turned off the Hulk footage after viewing it with Tony for the third time. They both agreed it was practically pornographic, but they needed to see it again. For research.

Yep. Research.

"So? Thoughts?"

Tony shrugged, bumping Steve's shoulder. Feeling frisky Tony ran his stocking foot up Steve's leg and Steve had a feeling the three of them would enjoy themselves later.

"It's not as dire as Bruce makes it and honestly, I bet he's secretly pleased. Hulk totally behaved himself, totally stuffed our boy with some high dollar menu items. I have a feeling we'll appreciate the results in a pretty short time."

Steve grinned as his face got hot. "You should've been there, Tony. Hulk's an eating dynamo, nothin’ stopping him. He got filthy, though. Made him take a shower before we went back to bed."

"Bet Hulkie loved that," Tony laughed. "Can't imagine him wanting to take a shower, by any stretch."

"Nah. It was okay. He liked me scrubbing him down. In fact, I think...well."

Tony perked up and maneuvered his body to catch Steve's eye. "What?"

Steve scratched his neck and sheepishly looked away. "I think Hulk enjoys sharing Bruce's body, like last night. It gives him another perspective he doesn't normally have. I got the feeling he wants to take over Bruce’s body more often."

"Hm." Tony's expression sobered. "Don't let Bruce hear you say that. He'll go apeshit."

"I know. He's already concerned about their boundaries and this sharing thing is stressful for Bruce. But is it bad? I mean, Hulk would still be 'out' more or less. But there wouldn't be any property damage. Bruce wouldn't have to worry about Hulk making a mess."

"But he's also blind to Hulk’s actions," Tony countered. "And there's no guarantee Hulk wouldn't take over their body and swell it green if he got mad enough." Tony tsked between his teeth. "I dunno, Steve. I'd keep that between you and me. If Bruce decides he wants more he'll tell us, but I'm kinda iffy on that front."

"Yeah," Steve sighed. "Maybe you're right."

"I am," Tony said. He clasped Steve's arm. "Don't fall into the trap. Hulk is a good bro but Bruce is right; you've gotta watch him. He'll take whatever you give him, and weasel for more."

"Like what he wants for dinner," Steve moaned.

Tony laughed. "Yeah. Like that. I got it set up, though. The caterers'll have it ready by 11 tonight. Just in time for our Green Bean to dig in."

"Can't believe you found someone to cook that...stuff," Steve mumbled. He ran a hand down his face. "You got it so damn fast."

"Oh? Didn't you know?" Tony plastered on his sharkiest, snarkiest grin and held out his hand. "Hi, I'm Tony Stark. I get shit done."

[theonion]

Doctor Asks New Mother If She’d Like To Keep Newborn’s Exoskeleton

ANAHEIM, CA—Noting that the cast-off segments of the tiny carapace are a popular keepsake among parents, Dr. James Gallagher asked a new mother on Friday if she would like to save her newborn’s exoskeleton. “Many new parents hold onto their baby’s discarded outer epidermis as a memento,” said Gallagher, who noted that the baby instinctively forms its exoskeleton from detritus found in the womb, making it a uniquely individual, personal souvenir, but cautioning the newborn’s mother that the hardening natal skin should be pressed into a scrapbook or presentation frame before the fluids dried out. “It’s just a nice thing to remember the beautiful moment when your child molted, scuttling free from the rigid shell where it spent nine months growing. Plus, it’s fun to show them how tiny they used to be, and to count the little rings to see how many of their fellow spawnlings they consumed.” Gallagher added that some mothers take the exoskeleton home to eat for its perceived health benefits, but the practice is widely discouraged by medical professionals.

[arqueologiadelperu]

New Post has been published on https://wp.me/p5yJGk-3Bjz

La Cultura Parácas y Los Mantos Monumentales

En todos los espacios geomórficos y en diversos tiempos la técnica es básicamente un producto cultural, pues es el resultado del trabajo social, la organización humana, descubrimiento de recursos naturales, experimentación con recursos materiales al impulso de las necesidades sociales, resueltas mediante el incremento técnico multirregional, así como despliegue de mentalidad creativa en los diferentes campos de las técnicas orientadas a producir alimentos, procurar abrigo, fundar aldeas, confeccionar cestería,inventar y producir textiles pre-telar tempranos, construir edificios,pirámides y centros ceremoniales. La creación de arquitectura e imágenes pictóricas asociadas permiten acceder a inferir ceremonias, rituales, envoltorios de paquetes funerarios, escenas de deposición mortuoria con selección de ajuar fúnebre, etc.; en todo caso la técnica en arqueología es modificante de los medios y estados naturales. En la cultura humana las técnicas prosiguen a partir de las precedentes y se acumulan en las formaciones sociales sucesivas. Hay una relación inextricable entre el temprano espacio de ocupación de un territorio y la aparición del espacio cercado sencillo originante de los habitáculos precerámicos experimentales iniciales, para luego pasar a practicar hábitos gregarios aldeanos donde las técnicas maduran, se diversifican e inventan las herramientas destinadas a alcanzar complejidad tecno social. En el caso de la Bahía de Paracas, las Pampas de Santo Domingo,descubiertas y trabajadas por el Dr. Frèdérick Engel (1966)al este del malecón del Balneario de Paracas, es el más antiguo sitio publicado para el territorio del Sur Medio (5,200 a.C.). Hay que evaluar y volver a investigar el sitio, por si las migraciones oriente-occidente empezaron u ocurrieron más temprano al Sur Medio; el componente cultural de este sitio en la margen este dela bahía sugiere intercambios a larga distancia.

A continuación ensayaremos considerar a la cultura en arqueología como el proceso de registro y documentación de datos expresados en el conjunto de materiales complejos, es decir lo que se vive en acción y comportamientos concretos.En el caso de la cultura Paracas, la mayor concentración de sus sitios arqueológicos los encontramos en el valle de Chincha; donde lo más destacable son los monumentales edificios rectangulares alargados e interiores abiertos; por supuesto, no son pirámides:

Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “La Cumbe”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “San Pablo”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Huaca Partida”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Huaca Soto”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Alvarado”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Santa Rosa”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Limay”. Sitio Arqueológico de Cultura Paracas “Tambo de Mora”. Sitio Arqueológico “Chococota”.

Esta arquitectura monumental nombrada está caracterizada por el componente de adobitos tipo cuña como material constructivo diagnóstico, lo cual identifica a la cultura Paracas instalada en el valle de Chincha, etc.

A la fecha estos monumentos arqueológicos de cultura Paracas emplazados en el valle de Chincha y sus márgenes laterales, no han sido excavados técnico-científicamente; esta es una tarea futura;tampoco hay datos publicados que señalen procedencia de grandes fardos funerarios de tales monumentos. Al parecer elárea desértica de la Península de Paracas (Pisco) fue convertida en el territorio funerario por excelencia: mayor tiempo Paracas(1,000 a.C. – 300 d.C.), Paracas-Nasca Transicional (200 a.C.-100a.C.) y Nasca (200 a.C.-900 d.C.), probablemente motivados por la sequedad ambiental y la vasta soledad de umbral fúnebre de ese “fin de la tierra” e inicios de la inmensidad marina. Las excavaciones arqueológicas del Dr. Julio C. Tello y su equipo en la península y arenales adyacentes fueron ejecutados entre 1,925 a1,930, según el Cuaderno de Investigación de Archivo Tello Nº7,2009. Los trabajos se iniciaron en los cementerios de Cabeza Larga y Arena Blanca, continuaron con las primeras exploraciones por el Cerro Colorado y el Cerro Waricayan; estos trabajos se hicieron durante ocho fases laborales de campo entre el 20de agosto de 1925 y noviembre de 1927. El texto informa acerca del traslado a Lima (Museo de Arqueología Peruana) en tres viajes con un camión prestado, las difusiones periodísticas delos descubrimientos y se dan a conocer las cantidades de fardos exhumados (429) y un total general de 1,509 especímenes recuperados.En el Cuaderno de Investigación del Archivo Tello, Nº9,continúan las informaciones de las excavaciones arqueológicas en Waricayan (donde ya se está usando el etnotipo “Grandes Necropolis”, 17-12-1927, p. 113); relatan los trabajos de campodes de el 27-12-1927 al 02-05-1928, luego pasan a informar sobre aperturas de fardos funerarios, uno de los cuales fue abierto y estudiado por Wendell C. Bennett en EE.UU. (informe en inglés)publicado en el Cuaderno citado con la traducción correspondiente.Tales aperturas han continuado después de muchos años hasta 2006, año de pie de imprenta de la Editorial UNMSM. El material textil Paracas provisto por aquellos esforzados trabajos arqueológicos promovieron el conocimiento mundial y llamaron la atención acerca de su monumentalidad. Hoy los estudios y análisis arqueológicos nos permiten explicar que las materias primas textil provienen de las especies vegetales y dela lana y pelos compuestos por proteína animal (camélidos).

1. Fibras vegetales andinas: maguey, achupalla, totora, junco, algodón: (colorado, marrón, blanco y fifito); enredaderas, sauce, molle, bejucos, etc. 2. Fibras animales andinas: pieles (de camélidos, zorros, felinos, lobos de mar, etc.). Lana de camélidos (llama, alpaca, vicuña, guanaco, paco- vicuña, llama-paco); pelo de cérvidos, pelo de murciélagos, cabello humano, etc.

Descubrir que las fibras vegetales y las de animales pueden ser transformadas en hilos fue el verdadero genial descubrimiento.Convirtiendo a hombres, mujeres y niños en manufactureros y tejedores. Del cruce de datos arqueológicos, revisandomuchos autores, encontramos que los fechados relacionadoscon los textiles precerámicos están en Chilca (Engel, 1966),Ancón (Lanning, 1967), Huaca Prieta (Bird, Hyslop y Skinner,1985) y La Galgada (Grieder y Bueno, 1988). En sus trabajosen la Bahía de Paracas (1963) el doctor Frèdérick Engel definióla fase Cabezas Largas I como pueblo precerámico y asoció el hallazgo de petates, esteras, pieles de mamíferos terrestres y marinos a la arquitectura precerámica del sitio, señalando adicionalmente uso de caña brava, mucha basura vegetal y marina, etc. Es evidente que gente precerámica había descubierto la abundancia de la biomasa del mar de Paracas, siendo los que habrían recepcionado a la gente migratoria proveniente del sureste portando las técnicas textiles ya frecuentes en la selva, como hemos argumentado. Los textiles a estos desiertos es posible que hayan llegado por convergencia previa del descubrimiento del algodón y su manipulación para obtener las diminutas semillas para comerlas, ensayando escarmenar el algodón. Lo cierto es que las técnicas de cestería se inventaron antes del uso práctico del algodón en los valles cálidos.Descubiertas las propiedades del algodón, planteados los factores de convergencia temprana, así como la manipulación de fibras, las técnicas cesteras transitaron con cierta rapidez a la textilería pre-telar “inicial” (1,500 a.C.) de la selva a los Andes. El entorzalado, entretrabado, entrelazado, encordado,anillado, anudado, etc., son técnicas de la cestería de longeva duración hasta los tiempos actuales en la selva y su difusión transtemporal panandina.

Los textiles con hilos de algodón tuvieron rápida difusión así como aceleradas transformaciones verdaderamente revolucionarias,para territorios sin materia prima como los desiertos del Sur Medio. Conocidas la materia prima, las técnicas cesteras y el invento del hilo que vienen de muy antiguos tiempos y espacios, el desarrollo de las técnicas textiles evolucionaron paralelas a otras técnicas como la arquitectura funeraria y los rituales asociados.

Los textiles en general son: 1) telas llanas o tejidos sencillos, cuya fórmula es: una urdimbre se entrelaza con una trama. 2) textiles complejos: los hilos de urdimbre y trama más otros hilos supernumerarios.

Hilos supernumerarios de color natural. Hilos supernumerarios de color por teñidos; el teñido de los hilos supernumerarios es para obtener diversos hilos de colores para confeccionar tejidos polícromos con técnicas combinadas complejas. En los textiles exhumados de Cerro Colorado, Cabezas Largas, Waricayan y Arena Blanca tenemos:

1. Telas llanas: usadas en diversos tamaños como forro, accesorios, envolventes, etc. 2. Telas de doble urdimbre. 3. Telas bordadas. 4. Telas doble cara. 5. Telas Sarga. 6. Telas listadas. 7. Telas bícromas. 8. Telas tapiz. 9. Telas polícromas flecadas. 10. Telas cosidas en cuadros tridimensionales. 11. Telas tridimensionales por el bordado. 12. Esclavinas. 13. Mantos rectangulares. 14. Gasas, etc. 15. Paños bordados, etc.

Se le asocian abanicos de plumas, piel de mamíferos, prendas de vestir, canastas, mate, alimentos (yuca, maní, maíz, pallar, camotes, etc.), varas de madera pulidas, penachos de plumas,hondas, piedras canto rodado pequeñas, mazorcas pequeñas de maíz, figurinas en oro laminado, láminas de oro, discos de oro,nariguera de oro, cueros, caña brava fragmentada, chucos, chuspas, unkuñas, trozos de madera bituminizada, ceniza, detritus de pescado, restos de grama, fragmentos de moluscos, restos de excremento humano, cerámica de 2 picos cortos y asa-puente cintada, bastones ceremoniales muy pulidos y endurecidos a fuego y tejidos en forma de red, entre otros.

En el Museo de Arqueología de San Marcos contamos con el más bello manto que hayamos visto; se trata de un textil con fondo blanco sobre la que destacan diseños bordados aplicando hilos rojos, negros y otros, que le dan un carácter único.

Acerca del Manto Blanco hay dos magníficos estudios: el de Lourdes Chocano Mena (2012) y la tesis para optar la Licenciatura en Historia del Arte, UNMSM (Sotelo 2015) a los cuales remito al lector.

Nosotros aportaremos aquí algunas precisiones analíticas: 1. El Manto Blanco es desde su aparición un ejemplar textil sin contexto; sólo se sabe que fue donado al Museo de San Marcos sin mayores referencias. Lo que es seguro señalares que no procede de los sitios de la Península de Paracas y tampoco es Paracas facie Cavernas. 2. Las materias naturales constitutivas y la belleza artística conforman unidad indisoluble del Manto. 3. La cronología relativa del Manto Blanco es de cultura Paracas Tardío Transicional (200 a.C. – 100 a.C.) porque el textil y sus figuras ya no son Paracas “estilo lineal”, sino que estátransitando a las figuras vestidas de estilo Nasca (figura 6). 4. El Manto Blanco exhibe personajes en movimiento de ritmo cuya proporción implica relaciones espaciales numéricas en función de equilibrio por alternancia continuada y compensación de la distribución armónica. Acusa continuidad de planos simultáneos en secuencia escénica de significandos y animación vital (ver figura 6). 5. La composición cambiante misma del conjunto de personajes móviles configura una escena de sentido impresionista. 6. Si atendemos a la belleza del ejemplar textil, connotamos el contenido sensorial de las figuras todas enmascaradas, lo cual les confiere sentido significativo impresionante; muestran un colectivo o conjunto en danza muy disciplinada y ordenada, donde sin embargo, los intérpretes son de necesidad individual (figura 7). 7. Los espacios ocupados por los personajes son el mismo ritmo en movimientos múltiples que no pierden compás visto como conjunto de comportamientos convergente/divergente hacia posibilidades simbólicas. Cada personaje es una realidad simbólica cuya percepción estimula analogías quizá mágico-religiosas (figura 8). 8. Cada figura ocupa su propio espacio oblicuo en la composición,permitiendo equilibrio dado por el conjunto, donde la figura humana enmascarada presenta rasgos, gestos y aditamentos corporales, permitiendo la observación de sus movimientos. 9. Cada personaje así, compone un sistema de grafemas metafóricoscuya sucesión de imágenes y símbolos son visiones próximas al mito y creencias religiosas (figura 9). 10. El hombre enmascarado es un personaje transformado,cuya metamorfosis incrementa su fuerza, autoridad y prestigio a nivel indestructible en su sociedad (figura 10).

La deposición de los cadáveres fueron precedidas por ceremonias que habríanse trasladado desde los grandes sitios de cultura Paracas del valle de Chincha hasta la península, llegados ala cual cumplirían el ritual de deposición del bulto funerario si ya llegaba armado; si no llegaba armado había que proceder a amortajarlo, envolverlo y deponerlo en las tumbas abotelladas(Cavernas) de Cerro Colorado. En cambio Waricayan tiene enterratorios en el Cerro Waricayan y en el arenal norte adyacente,donde los cadáveres han sido encontrados dentro de -al parecer-casas de planta ortogonal, techo de durmientes de maderay piso empedrado, según dibujos que presenta el Cuaderno Nº9,pp. 198-202, a los cuales el Dr. Tello consideró “Necrópolis”.

Necesitamos más tiempo y mayores estudios acerca de los legados por el Dr. Tello y su equipo. De hecho necesitamos excavar en nuestros días, con técnicas actuales los sitios de la Península de Paracas, como los casos de Disco Verdey Puerto Nuevo, los que están siendo reexcavados por arqueólogos contemporáneos (Dulanto 2013, Dulanto et al. 2013).Los mantos de la Cultura Paracas obtenidos a partir de las informadas son textiles confeccionados en algodón/fibra de camélidos y viceversa indistintamente, rectangular y han sido encontrados componiendo grandes envoltorios cónicos mortuorios, cubriendo a cadáveres depuestos en tumbas abotelladas (Cerro Colorado y Waricayan)y arenales de la Península Paracas (Arena Blanca y Cabezas Largas).Son telas, en este caso, destinadas a ser prendas funerarias cuya función habría sido proteger y “abrigar” la frialdad dela muerte. Quizá los cadáveres Paracas (de hombres, mujeres y niños) serían trasladados en tales mantos hasta el sitio de la deposición.¿Los mantos habrían servido para cubrir la superficie de literas de palos o caña brava en que se cargaba a los difuntos,desde el sitio de la muerte y ceremonias públicas, hasta su yacimiento final?.

Muchas ideas y funciones podrían ser planteadas,pero según el contexto de los hallazgos publicados, fueron confeccionados para el arropamiento funerario.El textil arqueológico Paracas es un tejido conformado por hilos a base de dos fibras naturales entorzaladas por movimientos de rotación torzal, lo que es indicador para saber que habían inventado el aparato hilador más tarde conocido como “pushka”en los Andes. Los hilos constitutivos de las manufacturas elaboradas, al mismo tiempo es posible señalar haberse buscado la técnica necesaria para teñir los hilos blancos de lana y algodón, pues el algodón marrón, colorado y fifito se usan ensus colores naturales.

El gusto por la policromía alentaría teñirlos hilos blancos para disponer hilos teñidos rojos, amarillos,negros, verde, azul añil, azul claro, negro, gris, etc. También es importante acotar que siendo Chincha un valle productivo de algodón, pallares morusa, poroto negro, zapallos, ajíes, yuca, camote, etc., podemos considerarlo autoproductivo. Además, la arquitectura monumental solucionada con adobitos tipo cuña afirma la residencia de jerarquías sociopolíticas de cultura Paracas con economía autosuficiente en los valles del Sur Medio.

En cuanto a la evidencia concreta de algún tipo de religión de la cultura Paracas está en torno al culto “ser oculado”, representado en petroglifos, cerámica y sobre todo en los textiles grandes y pequeños.

_______________________________

Autor: Alberto Bueno Mendoza Profesor Principal a Dedicación Exclusiva, Departamento Académico de Arqueología. Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos.

Fuente: Extracto del articulo PARACAS: CULTURA FORMATIVA DEL SUR MEDIO DEL PERÚ

________________________________

BIBLIOGRAFÍA ARCHIVO TELLO 2009 Cuaderno de Investigación del Archivo Tello N°7, Paracas Cavernas. Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, UNMSM. Lima, 212 pp. ARCHIVO TELLO 2012 Cuaderno de Investigación del Archivo Tello, N°9, Paracas Warikayan. Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, UNMSM. Lima, 550 pp. BUENO MENDOZA, Alberto. 1992 “Julio C. Tello y los Descubrimientos de Paracas”. Alma Mater. Universidad Nacional Mayor de San Marcos, N°2. Lima, pp. 91-97. 2012 “Los Descubrimientos de Paracas”. Cuadernos de Investigación del Archivo Tello, N°9, Paracas Warikayan. UNMSM. Lima, pp. 9-14. CARRIÓN CACHOT, Rebeca. 1931 “La indumentaria en la antigua cultura de Paracas”. Wirakocha Nº I. Lima, pp. 37-86. CHOCANO MENA, Lourdes. 2012 “Análisis de los personajes de un tejido Paracas: Una Interpretación Iconográfica del Manto Blanco”. Arqueología y Sociedad, N°24. Museo de Arqueología y Antropología, UNMSM. Lima, pp. 227-248. D’HARCOURT, Raoul. (1930) 1948 “Un Tapis brodé de Paracas, Perou”. Journal de la Societé des Americanistés: Nouvelle Serie, vol. XXXVII. París, pp. 241-257. DULANTO, Jalh. 2013 “Puerto Nuevo: Redes de Intercambio a Larga Distancia durante la Primera Mitad del Primer Milenio antes de nuestra era”. Boletín de Arqueología PUCP, N°17. Paracas: Nuevas Evidencias, Nuevas Perspectivas. Fondo Editorial PUCP. Lima, pp. 103-132. DULANTO, Jalh y Aldo ACCINELLI. 2013 “Disco Verde: Cincuenta Años después de Frèdérick Engel: la primera temporada de excavaciones del Proyecto de Investigaciones Arqueológicas Paracas en el Sitio”. Boletín de Arqueología PUCP, N°24. Paracas: Nuevas Evidencias, Nuevas Perspectivas. Fondo Editorial PUCP. Lima, pp. 133-150. GARCÍA, Rubén. 2009 “Puerto Nuevo y los orígenes de la tradición estilístico-religiosa Paracas”. El Período Formativo: enfoques y evidencias recientes. Cincuenta años de la Misión Arqueológica Japonesa y su vigencia. Segunda Parte. P. Kaulicke y Yoshio Onuki (eds.). Boletín de Arqueología PUPC, N°13. Lima, pp. 187-207. GREDIER, Terence y BUENO, Alberto 1985 Early ceremonial architecture in the Andes. Washington D.C., 109 pp. LEÓN CANALES, Elmo. 2013 “La Cultura Paracas”. Paracas. Museo Nacional de Arqueología, Antropología e Historia del Perú, Ministerio de Cultura. Lima, pp. 11-26. LOTHROP, Samuel K. 1949 “Un recuerdo del Dr. Julio C. Tello y Paracas”. Revista del Museo Nacional de Antropología y Arqueología II. Lima, pp. 1-53. MASSEY, Sarah. 1992 “Investigaciones arqueológicas en el valle alto de Ica: Período Intermedio Temprano 1 y 2” Estudios de Arqueología Peruana, D. Bonavia (ed.). Fomciencias. Lima, pp. 215-235. MUELLE, Jorge C. y Eugenio YACOVLEFF. 1934 “Un Fardo Funerario de Paracas”. Revista del Museo Nacional III, N°1-2. Lima, pp. 63-153. SOTELO SARMIENTO, Carina. 2015 El Manto Blanco de Paracas: Un Registro de la Cosmovisión del hombre de Paracas. Tesis de Licenciatura, EAP de Arte, UNMSM. Lima, 126 pp. TELLO, Julio C. 1917 “Los antiguos cementerios del valle de Nazca”. Actas del Segundo Congreso Panamericano de Arqueología. Vol. 1. Washington, pp. 283-291. 1918 “El uso de cabezas humanas artificialmente modificadas y su representación en el antiguo arte peruano”. Revista Universitaria, N°XII-I. Lima, pp. 478-533. 1919 Historia de la cultura andina. Lima, Ed. Sanmarti. 1926a “Interesantes descubrimientos arqueológicos en Cerro Colorado, Paracas”. El Comercio. Lima, 6 de febrero de 1926. 1926b “Los descubrimientos del Museo de Arqueología Peruana en la Península de Paracas”. La Prensa, Lima, 7 y 8 de junio de 1926. 1928 Expuesto en: Atii del XXII Congreso Internazionale degli Americanisti, Vol. I. Roma, pp. 679-690. 1959 Paracas. Primera parte. Empresa Gráfica T. Scheuch S.A., Lima. 1979 Julio C. Tello y Toribio Mejía Xesspe. Paracas. Segunda parte, Cavernas y Necrópolis. UNMSM. Lima. TELLO, Julio C. and H.U. Williams. 1930 “An ancient syphilic skull from Paracas in Peru”. Annals of Medical History, New York, N°1-2. New York, pp. 515-529. VALDEZ, Lidio. 2010 “Circunscripción medioambiental y decapitación humana en la costa sur del Perú”. Arqueología del Perú: Nuevos aportes para el estudio de las sociedades andinas prehispánicas. Lima, pp. 131-149. VERANO, John W. 1995 “Where Do They Rest?. The Treatment of Human Offerings and Thropies in Ancient Peru”. Tombs for the Living: Andean Mortuary Practices. T. Dillehay (edit.). Dumbarton Oaks. Washington D.C., pp. 189-227. WEISS, Pedro. 1932 “Restos humanos de Cerro Colorado, Cavernas, Paracas”. Revista del Museo Nacional, Tomo I, N°2. Lima, pp. 90-102. WURSTER, Wolfgang. 1997 “Desarrollo del Urbanismo prehispánico en el Valle de Topará, Costa sur del Perú”. Archaeologica Peruana 2, Reiss Museum, E. Bonnier y Henning Bischof (edits.). Manheim, pp. 12-27.

[novus-ordo-seclorem]

Untitled Fanfic

Felt like writing a cross-over.

Whitaker = Wesker.

---

In the crisp fall afternoon light, a dark sedan pulled up to the curb and parked neatly - the rear passenger seat door opening. Wesker was not the type to drive himself if he preferred it - and he adjusted the dark, soft scarf about his neck and tucked neatly into his buttoned overcoat.  Dark gray, with big silver buttons, and snug black slacks coupled with calf-high boots, tightly buckled.  His hair was almost silver in the sunlight - a side effect of high regenerative status when he became one with the lava some years ago.  Combed back neat, not a piece out of place, the sensitive crimson eyes covered by dark, black sunglasses - giving him the illusion of someone with some form with albinism.  He flicked his gaze about the street a moment, before shutting the door and dismissing the vehicle with a knock on the roof.  He stepped onto the sidewalk with purpose and traveled down the block toward a highrise building - its mirror-polished panes of glass blinding in the moonlight. A large, concrete and steel signage read in heavy, important lettering:  Biodyne.  He was stopped at the door, where he flashed his badge as a 'Doctor Whitaker' and was permitted inside, and with purposeful strides moved to the elevator. Again, the RFID badge was used - and he was swept upward into the sky to the thirtieth floor, 'Medical Engineering'.  He stepped out, removing his coat and folding it over one arm.  The floor, polished and treated, clicked underfoot as he stepped into an open, large space filled banks of machinery on one wall, rows of desks with computers, data streaming consistently, and the central area closed off by thick paned tinted glass.  Within, dark shapes stood in rows, unknowns in space.  There were no windows, no natural sunlight at all - any radioactive presence would jeopardize the small miracles within.

"Yung, update me on EX-23 and -29."  The autumn coat was replaced by a white lab coat.  A squirt of alcohol-solution hand sanitizer was rubbed between his pale hands, everywhere, even under the watch underneath his collar. Then he removed that, too, and set it aside on his desk.

"In twelve hours, no changes.  The mixture's remaining constant, the recombinants are stable.  Temperature's remained at a cozy  one-oh-four Celcius."   A voice answered from behind a set of screens.  Keys tapped away.  The laboratory was not quite as lifeless as it had appeared at first glance. There was a skeleton crew of four laboratory technicians and specialists, and the one that spoke, Yung, popped his head up and adjusted his glasses.  "Sorry for the mess. We... We didn't know you were gonna pop in today."

Whitaker finally looked around, noticed the food wrappers scattered on desks. An open soda can fizzing.  His lips tightened.

"Clean it up. Now.  This isn't your post-graduate dorm room."

A small scramble happened after that - someone went around with a rubbish bin and gathered all the detritus and went immediately out into the hallway.  They did not come back.  Maybe they wouldn't, until Dr. Whitaker left.

No one could long withstand being pinned beneath that near-lethal weight of disapproval in his eyes.

Except maybe Dr. Resholt, neuroscientist and specializing in cognitive psychology.  Meghan Resholt, being what she was, had an innate ability to armor herself against Whitaker's presence, and as such, could not be bullied by his tempestuous nature. They had grown to enjoy a mutual respect for one another while keeping a tense distance.

Meghan was studying her screens intently. On her screens, a series of colored, independent lines darted up and down at seemingly random times, flickering in patterns. Jagged, then soft, short, then tall.  Her hair was black at one point, but was streaked at the roots with grey. It was straight, and twisted into a bun.  She was older than everyone else here, and her age gave her a sense of dignity and poise that the younger crew did not quite possess.

Perhaps she was just too old to give a single shit about what Whitaker thought about her.

"You need to come take a look at this,"  she called to him. Earnest excitement rarely showed itself when she relayed anything in her usual, no-bullshit monotone.

Whitaker went over, skirting the table to stand behind her desk, hand resting against the back of her chair.  

"What?"

"At about oh-four-hundred-hours, Twenty-Three's theta waves started spiking.  At about this stage, we haven't seen this kind of activity in the other subjects, and it gets even more interesting.  As soon as 23's started, 29's waves began to go erratic."

"As expected. Cognitive brain development was anticipated if they matured this far."

"Yeah, of course. They've all de-stabilized and perished.  But you know what this means."

"Yes."

"They're dreaming."   Meghan looked at him, exasperated by his lack of response.  "Tom, they shouldn't be dreaming about anything."

"Theta wave activity doesn't necessarily correlate with dreams. They could be... establishing connective nerve tissues. Testing  things.  They have no memories, nothing to dream about."

"But what's more interesting is this.  Twenty-Three is about thirty-three percent complete. Twenty-Nine is only about... twenty-four? twenty-five? There shouldn't be any brain activity yet. But almost within a few minutes of each other, theta-waves began to skyrocket."

Whitaker continued to study the screens, and given the unusual nature of the subjects, he had to admit this was something certainly new. And a far cry better than the ones before, who failed to thrive before even being breached from their cells.

"What do you think is happening?"  Meghan added, sinking back. She rubbed at her eyes.

"I think it's unlikely... but considering their hive-like societal structure... they may be talking to each other.  Trying to.  Womb to womb. Mind to mind."

"This early?"

"It's theorized that a Queen can speak to her young.  Instructing them. Sharing memories.  Information. They're stuck in a feedback with one another, instead of their matriarch.  I hope this doesn't damage them, cognitively speaking."

"I guess. What could they even be talking about?  They're blank slates."

Whitaker breathed out, realizing he had been holding it in. "Not completely."