#retired prometheus

[limetameta]

Delphini doing a little get ready with me video but her dad voice overs what shes putting on her face and it's just Voldemort being deeply confused how many products this one girl owns. Gets to the lash curler and hes like A ha, I finally know what this is - you tossed this in as a joke to see if we were paying attention it's an auror interrogation tool- why are you putting it on your eyes... why are you spreying your face now you have water in the bathroom sink - oh excuse me, it's special "setting water", i did not know i raised a bourgeois that is above sink water. Care to explain to me what the deal with these metallic water bottles these days is, why is your generation obsessed with water - my generation was not dehydrated it was starved. *video cuts off, voice over of voldemort going on a whole great depression and wwii food scarcity rant continues over a black screen*

[meirimerens]

silly question. do you have any favorite famous horses?

never silly. don't you even fret. particularly fan of brooklynn fucking supreme (not actually his name. his name was brooklynn supreme)

belgian draft horse that could have been the heaviest horse ever seen at 1,451.5 kg or 3,200lbs (but not the tallest). i say "could" because the horse that is believed to have been the tallest ever, Sampson renamed Mammoth, has alledgedly been recorded at 1,524 kg (3,360 lbs). however i prefer brooklynn supreme because his name is silly and i love the massivity on this beast which looks like pure raw chonk, whereas shires, which sampson was, tend to be finer in features.

i also love Prometea... the first ever cloned horse... here with her mom

she was born in 2003 so she should be turning 21 this year. i love her in the same way i love Dolly the first cloned mammal but even more because she's a horse. & she made it into adulthood & even middle age (20+ is that for a horse). also her name makes me smile. like prometheus who defied the gods to give humanity our fire and was bound to eternal punishment... but she never was punished and has thrived and even had a baby of her own (a normal one not a clone).

OH AND VALEGRO

it is on his back that Charlotte Dujardin broke the world's Grand Prix, Grand Prix Special, and Free Style Dressage records in the span of 3 years. & still holding strong. he was able to retire before he got completely exhausted, which is what the other record-holding horse before him (Totilas) went through over years of intense competition.

[ariel-seagull-wings]

CARLY ANNE CROCKER: HEADCANONS

@thealmightyemprex

@moonshinenum @exoticb-utters @positivelybeastly @voxxgrimly

01º Carly was born and grew up in Hannibal, Missouri; 

02º Her father, Carter, was a firefighter, and the family of her late mother, Enid, owned a diner;

03º Became blind as an infant due to congenital glaucoma;

04º Was homeschooled until the age of eight years old;

05º After retiring from the Fire Department, her father became the new owner and manager of his wife’s family diner, working on management duties while friends and in-law relatives work in the kitchen and serving tables;

06º Her father wanted her to go to college in Saint Louis or Kansas City, but Carly always dreamed of going to college in New York, and her mother was supportive of her independence;

07º Came to live in New York at age seventeen when she applied for college;

08º Majored in Drama and English in Vassar College, and Law and Education in New York University;

09º Is a professional actress, storyteller and puppeteer;

10º Carly was twenty three years old when her mother died;

11º At the age of twenty seven, she received the surgery that cured her blindness;

12º Overalls, dungarees and jumpsuits are her favorite pieces of clothing;

13º Has German and Irish ancestry on her father’s side, and French-Canadian (Acadian) ancestry on her mother’s side;

14º Can be conversational in french;

15º Is a fan of the fairy tale radio anthology series Let’s Pretend;

16º At the time she was a patient in the hospital for the blind, Carly started to bond with Hank McCoy when she told him she was from Hannibal, and he referred to it as “the city of Mark Twain.” 

17º From that moment onward, they started a conversation about the Twain family, Joseph Médard Carrière, Rosemary Hyde Thomas, Marie Campbell, Washington Irving, L. Frank Baum, Tall Tales, Walt Disney and Americana;

18º Makes volunteer work as a theater educator, puppeteer and storyteller in several shelters and hospitals for blind people, as a way to give people the same support she received when she was blind;

19º Is bisexual;

20º Uses her knowledge of Law and Education to become an activist for Disabled, LGBTQIA+ and Mutant Rights;

21º Cheese based dishes are her comfort food;

22º Loves both cats and dogs;

23º Her Zodiac Signs is Libra; 

24º Her favorite Shakespeare plays are Measure for Measure, Troilus and Cressida, Love’s Labour's Lost, Much Ado About Nothing, Twelfth Night, Romeo and Juliet, Othello, Hamlet, Macbeth, King Lear, A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest;

25º Her favorite books are: Tales from the French Folk-Lore of Missouri, It’s Good to Tell You: French Folktales from Missouri, Tales from the Cloud Walking Country, The Last Unicorn, The Once and Future King, The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, The Father Christmas Letters, Bambi a Life in the Woods, Bambi’s Children, Frankenstein or The Modern Prometheus, Watership Down, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Les Miserables, The One Thousand and One Nights, The Canterbury Tales, The Decameron, The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus, The Sea Fairies, Sky Island, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, The Diaries of Adam and Eve, The Mysterious Stranger, Fairy Tales, New Tales, or Fairies in Fashion, The Bloody Chamber and Other Stories and Stories or Tales from Past Times, with Morals;

26º Her favorite colors are Green, Red, Pink, Violet and Blue;

27º Carly’s favorite flowers are myrtle, rosemary, rue, daffodils, violets, primroses, oxlips, carnations, gillyvors, flower-de-luce , hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram and marigold;

28º Voice, scent, hands and pulses are the first things she notices as attractive in another person;

29º  Is allergic to pine and eucalyptus;

30º Her favorite movies are The Adventures of Prince Achmed, The Thief of Bagdad, Pinocchio, Bambi, Fantasia, The Fox and the Hound, Powell and Pressburger A Matter of Life and Death and The Tales of Hoffman, Black Orpheus, Jason and the Argonauts, The Golden Voyage of Sinbad, Donkeyskin, The Wicker Man, Babette’s Feast, Watership Down, The Last Unicorn, Legend, Willow, Ladyhawke and Wings of Desire.

[agendergorgon]

Alien Vs Predator Vs Gender TW for SA discussed as it relates to stupid sci fi franchises that we've been stuck with since the 80s.

--- --- ---

Alien Vs Predator is a weird crossover/comparison to me because Alien is about cyclical stories of abuse and predation and control where corporations and governments and a monster with a penis for a head (and a second, smaller penis for a tongue (and a third, larger penis for a tail for when they really need to penetrate someone in front of horrified onlookers)) conspire to control the bodies of women and Predator is a series of films that ask you if you're a bad enough dude to beat up a big sassy lad in fishnets and a skirt with a vagina dentata for a mouth.

In Predator a big guy killed your mates for fun and now he's here to have an epic 1v1 with you bro because you got 1 hit in on him after he soloed everybody else. Whatever horror there is is from some sort of sexless macho man slasher with something to prove having to face a big sassy lad who is better at the masculine criteria of being an untouchable 80s action hero.

In Prometheus a lady has something slipped in her drink and later finds out she was impregnated against her will. Alien (franchise) is a very different kind of fear of a big strong dude stalking you and your friends.

No Predator is worried about the psychosexual or SA themes of the Xenomorph, they think its cool and they want to kill it and look cool killing it. In Predator (2018) a big cool predator kills a bunch of dudes and then a bigger predator comes and kills him. Predator (franchise) is to me the male fear of a bigger stronger dude. In AVP (2004) a lady has to step up and become the protagonist of a Predator film, by tag teaming a bunch of Aliens with the help of a The Predator. There are nods to the sexual violence of the Alien films, like a lady comparing the to a condom ("I'd rather have one and not need it then need it and not have one.") who then needs said gun to avoid having her face hugged. But the action hero lead ends up feeling like another action dude in the same vain as (in descending order of macho cred and strangely also ascending order of film recency) Arnold Schwarzenegger, Danny Glover, Adrian Brody or whoever that dude in Predator (2018) that my brain kept telling me looked like Matt Damon was, just also happening to be a woman, vs Prey being a film that actually makes something of the added friction of being a woman in a Predator film. In AVPR (2007) our lead lad is a pizza boy who watches everyone around him die and has to rise to the circumstances like an Alien film protagonist... but doesn't face any of the same sexual violence. This dude gets bullied, fuck it, make the bullies call him faggot all movie, give him some horrific shower room trauma, there are ways to make this boy go through an Alien story. Holy shit, put a trans lad in an Alien film and the psychosexual horror of the facehugger/chestburster etc ratchets even further as far as the properties of this thing robbing you of control of your body, without resorting to whatever the fuck the writers were thinking with the maternity ward scene (don't google it if you don't know). I think a lot of Alien and Predator stuff is dragged down by the Predator's inclusion, forced to multiply the Aliens so more can get killed at every opportunity and give humans and Predators alike a chance to prove they're really cool. I think Predator and Alien are both about being afraid of a big dude, but the Predator is a big dude that makes you feel inadequate, unable to match up, and ends in the idea that you're cool, you win, you beat him. A Predator protagonist wins. They retire. They don't get another film. An Alien protagonist survives, and thinks she might be safe, and then wakes to find she's in another film, and that she gets to lose everything. She gets to be cut up and taken apart by a man who views her as his property or plaything. I grew up with these films, one's I was shown when I was way too young for it and laughed at gore and glowing green blood going everywhere. I read comics and played games and allsorts and I never thought enough about it until I was going through the wrong puberty and wishing I could look like Ripley and be anything other than the wankers in any Predator film without knowing any words to describe that feeling other than faggot. I worked stuff out and when my family stuffed me back in the closet so they didn't have to have awkward conversations with family friends I watched Alien Resurrection because that stupid film informs half my dress sense. I bitch to friends constantly that I wish I could find fishnets as thick as the ones in Predator so mine won't keep snapping all the time. I think about these films more than I think I do, and in the stupidest ways, and I know I'm going to see them until the end of time because franchises never die. But one of these series is about trying to survive as a woman, and the other is about trying to prove you're not a faggot, and I already made my choice there.

[oasis-nadrama]

"The Alien is cooked": A Theory of Franchise Renaissance

Oasis Nadrama, 23/09/2024

[Warning: Body horror, general spoilers for the Alien movies and for Prometheus]

H.R. Giger's Alien Monster IV

In 2014, early in the preproduction stages of the Prometheus sequel which would become Alien: Covenant, Ridley Scott declared "The beast is done. Cooked". He then gave in to fan and studio pressure and gave the new movie the "Alien" label, commenting "I'll give them fucking aliens!".

It may be a mistake.

What if the Alien franchise let go of of Aliens altogether?

Giger's painting Necronom IV, the ancestor to his legendary "Big Chap" creature design, better known as "the Alien", "the xenomorph", "the adult drone" or "Kane's Son"

When Alien hit the silver screen in 1979, a huge part of its impact was due to the fact Kane's Son was a never-seen-before creature (both aesthetically and conceptually), an unknown entity, and a total Eldritch abomination. It was inspired by a variety of real animal species, including parasitoid wasps, and various previous tales and flicks of space horror (Van Vog's The Voyage of the Space Beagle, Planet of Vampires and It! The Terror From Beyond Space are the most commonly indicated influences, although O'Bannon didn't have a specific source in mind when writing). But it was still a powerfully original entity, further strengthened by H.R. Giger's nightmarish and subversive creature design.

In the first movie, we don't know the limits of the Alien's life cycle. Alan Dean Foster, in the novelization, suggests that the crew of the Nostromo has no reason to hope that what we call today the "adult drone" form is the final stage, an idea I always found striking. And indeed Giger designed an unseen Alien Monster IV, which seems to be the hypothetical stage IV (and later was used by Cameron as an inspiration for the Alien Queen). There was also the suggestion by Ridley that Big Chap was about to naturally die by the end of the movie - it was oxydizing, and retired to the Narcissus for its last moments. We don't know the limits of its intelligence. O'Bannon thought the star beast was from a population which once had a developed culture, while Ridley had this unused idea for an epilogue where the Alien would use Ripley's voice to contact Earth (strangely reminiscent of a scene we would come to see in The Terminator five years later). We don't know its history, if it was a specimen, a weapon or even somehow part of the same ecosystem as the Space Jockey. we don't know its resistance. Until the all-new interquel, we didn't even know if Kane's Son survived the reactor burn or not.

This mystery is a huge part of the appeal of the movie, a titanic part of its sheer heaviness, and strangely part of the enigma remains intact even after seeing the entire series.

Big Chap, the face of the unknown

It is hard to deny that James Cameron's angle for a sequel banalizes the Alien. Love or hate AlienS, it is just a fact: we now know the Alien can be killed, and even killed by things as mundane as bullets, grenades or flamethrowers. We now know the limits of its intelligence, it is similar to a dog or a chimpanzee maybe, and only interested in killing and reproduction. We know it has a social structure. We know a gestation will always result in the same creature. We see an apparently closed life cycle, both in terms of successive transformations and reproduction. We see a complete hive, the endgame of the cycle, and the Queen reigning over it all. (I personally think Cameron's entire approach is a large mistake, which had sad consequences on the entire franchise, but I understand people who absolutely love this movie, and I think it's a matter of taste.)

Since then, the creature kept appearing. In the extended universe, it "diversified" into various castes generally playing with the same limitations, or simply trying to imagine "stronger Aliens" - the Praetorian, with all due respect, is just a Big Chap with more muscles. In the movies particularly, the classical Alien became the absolute star and the focus of the franchise.

The Alien hive: an iconic idea with diminishing returns?

By this point movies containing the original Alien (or a close approximation) are generally good DESPITE featuring the original Alien creature and close approximations, not BECAUSE it features it. (We will count the Neomorphs, Praetomorph, Newborn, Offspring and even the Deacon as "close approximations".)

Prometheus had it right all along. Despite its writing flaws, and the erratic quality of the creatures featured - we all hate Zombie Fifield, and regarding the Space Jockeys retconned as almost entirely humanoid Engineers, your mileage may vary -, the Prometheus project had its heart in the right place: it is time to look elsewhere.

But to look elsewhere does NOT mean to lose the focus. It does NOT mean the Alien movies should stop being about the main threat. It does NOT mean they should now propose corporate thrillers, fights against random and unrelated extraterrestrial lifeforms, etc.

It merely means to explore the same concepts from different angles. Do you remember what you felt when you saw the Trilobite serenely collapse upon the vainquished Engineer, and you recognized its typical posture?

Would ANYONE deny it was an incredible moment? Like, you may not like anything else in Prometheus, the themes, photography, bestiary, characters, etc, may not speak to you, but would you deny the power of this instant? When we finally see the facehugger in the Trilobite?

Don't you want more of it? Don't you want creative explorations of body horror, other disgusting biological processes - as Engineer bioweapons, as new stages of the Alien creature, as different incarnations of Plagiarus praepotens, whatever?

We could have creatures like the Vang which are created through the assemblage of multiple repurposed human beings. We could have parasites similar in process to the Half-Life headcrabs, who take control of a human body by merging with the head and then work from there. We could have creatures which eat human beings by vomiting their stomach in our mouth, starfish style. We could have anything.

Why not head towards a larger Alien universe, a sea of unknown nightmares which, while closely tied to the mythology as we know it, would make the experience alien once again?

Detail of the cover for the second book of The Vang trilogy by Christopher Rowley

[foundationhq]

EMPLOYEE ID 5027-0983-1; 𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇.

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 Vivien Huifen Jiāng 𝐀𝐠𝐞 31 𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫/𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐬 cis woman, she/her 𝐅𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 Stephanie Hsu 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐬 retired

PROFILE.

The prudent and perceptive [𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇] understands better than anyone that there is no secret that should be shielded from the Committee’s watchful eyes. They proved their commitment to maintaining the integrity of the Foundation when they cut ties with their very own father, a Foundation Administrator at the Decommissioning Department, by blowing the whistle on an underhanded deal he had with Andersen Robotics and Prometheus Labs for the sale of anomalous objects slated for decommissioning. Their part in that bombshell exposé earned them the credibility they needed to shed the accusations that their advancement through the ranks was due to the efforts of family and friends in high places. It certainly was enough for the Foundation to heed their call to preemptively apprehend [𝐾𝐼𝑁𝐺'𝑆 𝐺𝐴𝑀𝐵𝐼𝑇], a prior mentor, on charges of [REDACTED]. If it were anyone other than [𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇], many would have suspected personal resentments were behind their damning report. However, there is no doubt that they have been a useful, if self-appointed, asset to the Committee’s efforts. Now they will serve this purpose in an official capacity, imbued with exceptional powers despite being a rather junior member within the Broken Scales of Themis. If the agents assembled to form MTF Chi-00 disappoint their mandate, [𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇] can be counted upon to drag their indiscretions to light. — Internal Memo from the Ethics Committee.

LAST ASSIGNMENT.

JR. ARCHIVIST;  Site-7,  Recordkeeping  and  Information  Security  Administration  (RAISA). Preservation of digital archives, amending and updating SCiPNET pages, providing ticket support, and catching cybersecurity leaks and potential infohazards.

INTERRELATIONS OF NOTE.

𝑂𝐿𝐷 𝑆𝑃𝑂𝑅𝑇. You’ve heard of the agent with the “perfect record” but this will be the first time you get to meet with them 1-on-1 — and you must admit, you’re dying to talk to them. Any tips and tricks they’d be willing to give a junior member of Chi-00 are bound to come in handy for your future career at the Foundation. Unless, of course, the good 𝑂𝐿𝐷 𝑆𝑃𝑂𝑅𝑇 turns out to be less than the absolute paragon of protocol they make themselves out to be. In which case, your sense of justice always comes first.

𝐹𝐿𝐼𝑀𝐹𝐿𝐴𝑀. You observed this star’s meteoric rise, and while some questioned their success story you could not disagree more. How could anyone doubt them when they come from such a brilliant legacy, and were mentored by the esteemed 𝑅𝐸𝑉𝐸𝑅𝑆𝐸 𝐸𝑁𝐺𝐼𝑁𝐸𝐸𝑅? Yes, their ostentatious self-obsession grates a little, but you just know in your heart the two of you are birds of a feather. This certainly isn’t motivated by anything so humiliating as projection, but maybe they just need a little help to outgrow their inheritance — like you did.

𝑄𝑈𝑂𝑇𝐸 𝑈𝑁𝑄𝑈𝑂𝑇𝐸. You were the first human to notice this hacker within the Foundation’s cyberspace so the fact that you are on a team with them is… intriguing, to say the least. After the special briefing you received regarding this new acquisition, you’ve found yourself in the position of their private warden, not that the newly minted “𝑄𝑈𝑂𝑇𝐸 𝑈𝑁𝑄𝑈𝑂𝑇𝐸” is aware of this fact. In any case, you’ll take on this secret assignment with the same dedication you put into all your work — because while it was never said outright, you’re well aware that the consequences of a poor peer review will be… final.

EPILOGUE.

[𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇]'s combat assessment results did not meet the mark for field mission deployment. After a lengthy deliberation period between the Ethics Committee and Site-φ Director Buckley Osterholz, the Committee has agreed to transfer the operative out of the mission team and monitor [𝐴𝑈 𝐹𝐴𝐼𝑇]'s progress as a research and archive member of Site-φ instead. The operative is tasked still with keeping an eye on members of MTF Chi-00, looking out for any inconsistencies that may arise within their personnel files and submitted papers. — Internal Memo from the Ethics Committee.

[bacon-neko]

SoM Dec 25

let's wrap up that convo on olympus and get back to my boy!

Apollo cocked a brow at that and then shrugged. “I won’t stop you,” he said over the rim of his cup as he took a sip. “But you’re wasting your time.”

“I’m sure he’d appreciate a diplomatic gesture,” said Athena.

“He’d appreciate being left alone,” he said lightly. “But suit yourself. He’s on Mount Strobilos.”

“Mount Stro—” Athena cut herself off with a cough, clearing her throat, buying herself time. “That’s uh. Rather far away. Isn’t it?”

“That would be the point,” replied Apollo.

“Still. Not the best place for a retirement,” she continued.

“Well, he’s an old badger,” he said. “Gave up on comfort years ago.” Then he tossed her a grin and carried on brightly. “But you can ask him all that yourself when you get there! I have a party to get back to, if you don’t mind.”

Athena rolled her eyes. “Yes, yes, your adoring public awaits.”

“You say that like it’s an exaggeration,” he teased as he strutted off and slipped into the crowd, effortlessly welcomed into the throng by fresh cheers and laughter.

The war goddess turned away and left the grand hall for the stables. She didn’t need frivolity especially when there were questions to be answered, work that needed to be done. The others were busy celebrating the arrival of a prince when their youngest had just been born and summarily cast out. Athena had no time for parties, not now. Possibly not for the next decade or so if all hell broke loose, but there was nothing a bit of forethought couldn’t help.

How fortunate then for her to visit Prometheus, forethought himself. Hermes would’ve laughed at that. His trips to the underworld always took so long, even with his talents. She missed her brother when he left, they all did, but most of all, she missed having an ally. She’d bring the others into the fold sooner or later when the time was right, when there weren’t predators lurking in the corners of parties, waiting for the chance to strike. She’d tell them, certainly. Just not now. So for now, she readied her chariot, settled her horses, and rode off towards the east, bracing for the rising sun that would soon blind her.

Along that path but outside of Athena’s purview and knowledge—however expansive that may be—Keraunos lay dreaming.

In the dream, darkness enveloped him—thick and warm and all-consuming. A melody brushed against the back of his mind—a familiar lullaby—while fingers carded through his hair, digging gently into his scalp. He reached for the hand, towards the voice, just as they pulled back. He reached again, certain the person was right there, they had just been singing to him, holding him, comforting him in this great dark, and still nothing. Grasping, twisting, lungs shaking with effort, the boy tore through the black, ripping into light, and then—

He snapped awake with a gasp.

Sweat clung to his hair and forehead. He folded in on himself, burying his face in his lap, breathing heavily as he raked his fingers through his hair.

Blankets stirred nearby. He turned and spotted Alkidike shifting in her sleep, nestling deeper into her mother’s embrace while the hearth burned low beside them, gentle and warm.

Keraunos pressed his hands to his face and exhaled against his palms before kicking off his blankets and tossing on his clothes.

[netteliax]

@prometheanpiero location: Temple of Saturn, Winter Festival notes: :) :)

It had been her curse for a long time to linger on the fringes, Nettelia had tried for a time to join in on these sorts of things. There had once been a time where she'd danced in Eden, when they observed the solstice, decorated their homes, lined the trees with ornaments, and howled under the light of the winter moon. It was lifetimes ago now, that woman hadn't existed in a long time. The nature changed but many of the festivities remained the same; as the wedding came to a close there were many eyes that were wet with memories and well wishes... Many whom Nettelia assumed didn't even know the couple. Still, there had been a great deal of wine so that coupled with the present Roman need for hope likely served as reason enough for people to celebrate, make merry, and rejoice.

She saw another lost soul and before Nettelia left the festivities for the night to retire elsewhere, the archdruidess moved to stand beside Prometheus. The Romans were tossing effigies into a great fire, letting go of pieces of the past and moving forward into the future. She had no desire to fight, to profess anything deep seeded or undying... The two had done enough of that already. Instead Nettelia just stood beside him, because there was some comfort in that act alone. "Have you made your offering yet?"

[theuntamedangel]

Freak Show

I had no clue that glycerin or whatever Bakugou secretes can cause people to come back to life. It was unknown to me until now that an explosion in the heart can cause the dead man to not only come back to life but also pick up right from where he left off. Education has failed us all and both Bakugou and Hori is here to reveal us the true knowledge like the Greek mythical figure Prometheus sharing the fire of knowledge to mankind. No need for rest and recuperations, no need to treat the body with care and attention after sustaining injuries. It's god's work and Bakugou has proved he is above god. I'm dead sure Midnight will still remain 6 feet under when the manga ends despite Bakugou's abilities to perform God like miracles. It's more than likely that Deku vs Shigaraki can never take place because Bakugou might perform another god like actions and he might be the one to kill/finish off Shigaraki, not Deku, you know, the guy who actually wants to save him. Hori should just retire after the manga ends and NEVER EVER attempt to write anything in the future.

@theloganator101

@nutzgunray-lvt

[applesontheground]

your own prometheus 💉

CHAPTER SIX like minds broken, like minds breaking free | AO3

shoutout to H.P.’s hatred of A/C units i got a line in here just for you buddy! (and i mean that as a threat)

NSFW | Word Count: 3,926 | Herbert West x GN Reader x Daniel Cain

contains canon typical/graphic depictions of body horror, HEAVILY IMPLIED NSFW, mild voyeurism

⬅ continued from salvation comes only in our dreams

➡ continued in something inside your head

“Sherman Robinson.”

You’d been speaking on the weather with a receptionist when the conversation just beyond your sight, down a hall that lead further into the local law firm, caught your ear. Attention had been a hard thing to wrangle that morning for obvious reasons, still stuck somewhere between a puddle of blood that had been inches away from your feet and a pair of crooked glasses telling you that splintering wood through the chest cavity was something that had to happen. You let yourself trail off at a convenient time to listen.

The shared words between two attorneys weren’t even yours to focus on, appearing fixated on organizing the day’s deliveries in the lobby. The man you had initially heard spoke again, only half baffled at his own explanation. “Body just went missing from the morgue a few nights ago. The entire hospital is up in arms, and of course family’s getting in contact with us, all this nonsense.”

The other one was perplexed enough for both of them. “How does a goddamn body go missing?”

“It wasn’t accidentally cremated, miscommunication with the records?” You pointed your look at the man helping you behind the counter, but he didn’t notice. He kept pulling stock of documents that were meant for you, and finally you gave up and just stared at the counter.

“No, sir. Only thing left in the room was the bag Robinson was in.”

“…Suppose it’s an inside job?” Both of you froze at that, the man behind the counter pressing a record with a red stamp towards the top of the page and shooting you a wary look.

“They aren’t sure as of right now. This is just hearsay, but the police don’t like visiting. Not since that October.” You hid the way every muscle in your neck grew rigid, rolling it and pretending there was a draft that caught you off guard with a bothersome sneer at the air conditioning unit towards the right facing wall of the lobby. “That morgue massacre really put Essex on the map, but it also marked our hospitals as death traps.”

The other man huffed, “Well, that’s a little harsh, you think?”

His cohort snorted, “Well, maybe. All I’m saying is that if my family needed a hospital, I wouldn’t send them to Miskatonic.”

The two men exchanged a dry laugh and departed, one returning to the depths of the offices and the other moseying back down the hall. You waited for another beat, then the receptionist handed you another stack of documents, the stamped one on top as you merely looked back at him with a chaste nod.

Anything to keep from looking at the familiar face paperclipped to the documents belonging to Mr. Robinson.

You had one more errand to run before you could get back to the clerks’ office, sitting in a hallway that for once wasn’t your favorite stop on the route. Between Miskatonic and home, you were almost eager to be anywhere else. The desperation wringing your thoughts made you let go of the papers on your lap and bury your face in your hands, laughing to keep from souring completely. Maybe it’s time I retire, turn into a desk clerk, sit with the records that don’t need to be moved any more. Let them rest.

It shouldn’t have caught you so off guard that Herbert was capable of murder, but of course it did. Even worse, it made you ask yourself whether or not Dan was, too. Even though he hadn’t been present last night, something told you that they had far too much history between each other for him to just be okay with whatever hell had crawled out of the basement and tried to brutalize you. He had to have seen it at some point too, been aware of the noise and the mess that you and Herbert had made; you sure didn’t clean it up and seeing how Herbert leaves the main floor of the house, you’d be shocked if he had too.

Sure, there weren’t full-blown attacks at Miskatonic like that, but from what you heard the place wasn’t immune. It made your jaw loosen and sweat began to simmer under your shirt collar, because you could now tell you really didn’t know half of it.

You wouldn’t have to kill someone out of negligence, right?

Finally stepping out from the pathology office, an older woman stood for a beat. Spotting the lilac flats from where your eyes were glued to the floor and the exasperated expression from behind coke-bottle glasses, you perked up, rushing to shove any other thought aside and return to the present. “Marge!”

“Oh my. Like a dog begging for scraps.” She tutted, but when you still smiled and got to your feet, she sighed in an endearing gesture, “Alright, come on. Got some good ones for you today.”

Every once and awhile, Marge had been able to slide you photocopies of old X-rays, things from the medical realm that might’ve turned the wheels of inspiration. So long as you didn’t show them around, you were able to use them then quietly dispose of it when you were finished. You even did her a favor by redacting the dates and identification numbers sometimes kept in the corner. The pen you did it with sat in your back pocket, jutting out slightly whenever your shirt would ride up. Plus, it didn’t hurt to draw something less gruesome, paint a few things for her in return as well. Your relationship with her was fond, built by someone who needed a painting for her daughter’s birthday and the creative mind with morbid interests – even if you tried to hide that from the world at large.

“It’s been a few weeks since I’ve seen you around here. Behaving yourself?” She asked, watching you start to slide a hand over what she had brought in. You replied warmly, “Of course. Just get hogged by the other side of the county. Always need something to go somewhere else, you know.”

“Sure, heard that old place by the river has been having run-ins with trouble again.” She paused, then asked, “How is that roommate of yours, Daniel?”

A smile spread over your face, and you answered, “He’s well.”

“And his bag of tricks?”

You stifled a laugh, knowing what she meant as you chimed, “Dr. West’s fine, too.” You shook your head, flashing your teeth in more of a twinge than an open smile now, “I’ve been busy keeping them out of trouble.” She only scoffed at that, and your eyes were pulled to a picture of a bone broken to the point it stuck in another direction, brushing the other part of it in the translucent shot through the X-ray. You pulled it closer to yourself, recognizing the feeling of not being able to quite take your eyes away without an active demand. Stop staring, at least this arm was attached to someone.

Marge finally tapped the desk, a royal purple nail being enough of a catalyst to pull you from the image. “You didn’t hear this from me, but there’s been talk they’ve been getting you into it.” She murmured, almost like the walls were paper thin.

Tilting your head, your eyes slowly trailed up to look at her. “Huh? What do you mean?” She clicked her tongue and scolded, “Now, not so fast, dear. I’m old but I’m not senile quite yet.” You tried to smirk, but then shrugged, “Heard through the grapevine that you and Dr. Cain are becoming pretty good friends.”

The similar silence that could’ve been broken with a pin drop in your mind, something identical from what you had felt from those two nurses made your heart skip a beat, “Oh! Marge, no.” Your throat tightened, but you still sighed, “It’s only ever been rooming with him, nothing else. We’ve had to get close just because of the shared space.”

“Uh huh.” She looked down at the desk, but quickly looked back up and made you stand a little straighter, “Not with West, either?”

You pursed your lips at that and mumbled, “No, ma’am.”

“Okay. Well, I hate to send you back across the county,” She suddenly pulled a folder out from behind her computer, opening it to peruse as she explained, “I have to get these files over to my colleague in another office. Could you be a saint and make sure it gets there?”

“Of course, it’s the least I can do. Thank you for these, Marge.” You held up the few papers you decided to take, clipped together and smiling despite your heart thundering against your chest. You glanced down at the other set she was taking from the folder and felt the ease slip along with the presence of her questions still heavy in your mind.

“Wait, Marge-” She turned to you again, coral colored frames of her glasses falling down her nose as she gave you a daunting glance, but still you asked, “Where did you say this office was?”

You stood with pursed lips as the sliding doors to Miskatonic opened, pulling you in like a vice you had no choice but to walk inside. Even traversing across town was no match, and something always put you back. You knew where the pathologist for this hospital was like the back of your hand, leading you with purpose. You held the paper needing to be sent to him, trying to read it while you walked.

It was concerning tissue analysis of some dead bodies that the other hospital had come into contact with, scanning the various tables on the paper with your teeth subconsciously grinding against each other, more of a calming tic than any stress you felt. Ever since you had truths startle you into deep-seated dread, most news in your hands didn’t pack the same punch. It was no Megan Halsey is actually dead or There’s zombified people in the basement.

As you slowed outside the Pathology office, you picked through the papers while reaching for the door and giving it a gentle knock, feeling people brush past you and hugging the wall within moments without realizing. A note in handwritten ink was circled underneath the computer print.

VARIOUS ORGANIC TISSUE NOT EXPERIENCING DECAY, SHOWING ATTEMPTS AT BREAK DOWN BUT NO PHYSICAL RESULTS. – DR. HILL’S WORK? THANKS GRAVES, -M.F.

Your head couldn’t help but turn at the underlined words.

Dr. Hill?

“Can I help you, [sir/ma’am]?” You snapped your head up at the man standing in the now open door, his salt and pepper facial hair hiding the slight grimace at your interest in the docs, and tired gaze understanding what you were doing by a mere glance but deciding to remain polite.

“Oh! Hello,” You greeted, extending your hand to him, “Record courier, [Y/N][L/N]. Marge from the unit across the county wanted to send you some readings.”

“I can see that. It looks like she sent me a reader while she was at it.” He huffed, but when you gave him an apologetic nod and quickly turned the pages away from yourself, he sighed, “It’s alright, just promise me you’ll keep it to yourself.” He finally shook your hand, letting you give the packet to him, “Wilbur Graves, pleasure to finally meet you, [Mr./Ms.][L/N].” He then stood to the side of the doorframe and hummed, “You can come in if you’d like, I’ve heard a bit about you.”

You squinted in a smile, one that you had to force a bit as you asked, “Really? From who?”

“Who do you think?” A voice from inside drew you in, eyes widening as you stepped from the fluorescent hallway and the miscellaneous chatter to the dark of the office. A younger nurse was dropping off some various physical samples, giving you a cheeky glance.

“Ernest, no need.” Graves tried to stop him, but he then shrugged, “What, like [he/she doesn’t / they don’t] know.” Your smile dropped again, the familiar sentence taking you back to earlier in the week with the nurses. What, you don’t know?

Apparently, you didn’t know anything, and it was starting to make you a little green with an envy that you weren’t in on this running gag everyone seemed to know of.

Green. The luminescent shade catching your skin as you crept forward startled you, making your eyes lock onto a nearby shelf in the pathology office. Just as you had with the one you had seen in the fridge back at the house, it was quickly connecting the red thread. Two places you couldn’t seem to escape and had far more things in common with each other than you could stomach.

“Dr. Carl Hill’s last invention. We…aren’t quite sure what he had intended to do with it.” Graves explained briefly, eyeing how you were frowning at the vial. You turned to look at him, biting back the urge to crumple your eyebrows and feeling as though the almost neon light still dancing over your chest and face was scalding you. He went on, “We found it in the morgue after that awful massacre. You know, the one that happened in ’85.”

Slowly, you made yourself nod and breathe out the word, “Sure.” Looking once more back at it, you then couldn’t help but ask, “Dr. Carl Hill died the night of the massacre, I’m assuming?” Graves raised his eyebrows at you, and when you held the stare with your own curious expression he replied quietly, “Yes. Along with the Dean’s daughter, Megan Halsey. I’m sure you’re familiar with her, right?” Your heart shot up into your throat, nodding calmly despite the information pulling another familiarity into the mix. Everything had so much more convolution than you were anticipating, mixing into a mess that now stared at the back of your head with a toxic color.

He chuckled, “That is actually why I’ve invited you in, [Mr./Ms.][L/N]. Perhaps your boyfriend, Dr. Cain, could-” Your gaze snapped over to him, meeting his eyes and trying not to let anger slip into your voice as you corrected, “I’m not dating Daniel Cain.”

Graves prodded, “Oh. You’re not?” Seeing him inhale, you then added in the same breath, “Or Herbert West.”

“You’re not?” Ernest spoke up again, making you give him an exasperated frown, but you shook your head once more. Even to yourself, fawning at the mere tease of the thought.

“Well, even if you don’t date, you do live with them. Is that true?” Graves asked, and you merely nodded with the same movement of your jaw from before; this time, with more purpose that made your temples move from the ferocity. He slowly asked, “Do you…know what part they played in the massacre?”

“…Did they play a part?” You breathed, eyes widening along with the inability to hide the way your entire voice fell through space at the mere realization.

The brash ring of the phone from the other room startled you out of the tunnel vision. Graves frowned hard but immediately excused himself. You tried to ignore it, looking at the memo you were handing off sitting on the desk in front of you. Ernest was still in the room, giving you that same smug expression. You decided to change the subject, running from the conversation that dissipated for the time.

“So, is someone saying I’m sleeping with those two? That’s the third time this week I’ve heard someone give me crap.” You asked, and he shrugged, “Dunno. Just heard Cain talking about you the other day. Made it sound like you two had something going on.”

“What did Dan- shit, what did Dr. Cain say?” You and him both laughed, and you took the moment to idly walk closer to the shelf on the wall, letting your hand meander behind your back while holding eye contact to keep him distracted. Ernest shrugged, looking towards the door and making it easy to take the bottle with a clammy hand, starting to fumble with it.

“He just said you two were growing close, how great you’ve been keeping things in order back at their digs. Wouldn’t stop talking about your eyes, either.” You were only half-listening, the latter of your attention thumping around your head as you tried to stop the glass from tapping against the metal shelf. He then looked at you, and you only pulled a flustered expression as he commented, “They’re just some shade of [y/e/c], so guess I’m not the intended audience for that one.”

You rolled those special eyes of yours, and then sighed, “Well, I can tell you right now that we aren’t anything outside of roommates.” Ernest scoffed, “Yeah, okay. If not you, then he’s definitely got it for West. You see how they look at each other, right?”

“Oh, sure.” You answered half-joking, but then stopped yourself and sighed, “I mean…I’ve said it before, but if they’re dating that’s none of our business – mine or yours.” Part of you meant that as you finally took your turn to leave with the glass in your bag, covered with your jacket to keep its toxic color concealed, “Tell Graves I had to get back to the clerks’ office, okay?”

“Sure, I’ll say hi to your boyfriends, too.” He called, and you knew that he could imagine the look on your face as he laughed from behind the door swinging shut.

You shoved the vial lower and lower into the bag, a godsend that you had brought in with you since you had a heavier stack of documents to lug around today. Kept around your shoulder, you checked the zippers, the latches, and when you were sure it was shut your eyes pointed towards the doors again. Hate to walk through them, love to barrel out-

“[Y/N].” A voice that sounded as though it had breathed right next to your ear almost sent you tripping into a row of chairs in the lobby, gasping as you turned and recognized his tone before seeing him fully. “Jesus, Herbert-“

“Pathology.” He merely spoke the word, and you almost rolled your eyes. It wasn’t a big deal he had noticed, but you knew it looked suspect to even him. Especially him. You recalled the way he looked at you when he saw how Dyer had spoken to you, that insecurity of the wrong slip of your tongue making him prone to just nitpick your every move. You weren’t Dan, after all, and he didn’t know what part you were intending to play through whatever the hell was going on. Still, you smoothed the front of your clothes down, feeling the weight of your bag against your thigh.

“Yes. I have something to tell you when I get home today.” Your eyes scanned the space around you, and his brow released as you lowered your voice, “I…really can’t show it right now.”

His eyes then truly focused in, not listening because he had to but now because he wanted to. “Is that so? What is it?”

“I can’t.” Your hand gripped your bag and you murmured, “Trust me.”

Another pause, looking you up and down to see how rigid you were becoming. “Well, can you at least tell me what’s with the incredulous look on your face?”

“I-“ Your expression flushed, the prodding once again cracking your eggshell-thin demeanor, “I found something in Pathology and I’m about to walk out with it. It’s something I’ve seen at home, and I think it belongs…to you.” Speaking slowly was the only way you could express uncertainty in your own words, but you cleared your throat and went on, “That stuff you keep in the fridge, I think you know what I’m talking about. I…I want answers.”

He blinked, short-lived anxiety through the hard brow suddenly lifting, and you two had a mutual moment of knowing what you meant. He almost sounded smug, and rocked on his heels slightly as he huffed, “Answers? [Y/N], why didn’t you just say so?”

“Hey, there’s trouble and more trouble.” You gave one last look to the door when you heard Dan’s voice, and as he came to greet you, you tried to take a playful tone. “Alright, you two have to have a job to do right now. I’m getting anxious just watching two doctors talk with their perfectly healthy roommate rather than helping patients.”

“What, can’t have a second to breathe?” Dan joked, and you smiled back a little in a lighthearted forfeit. You crossed your arms and then asked, “Hey, wait. Who’s trouble and who’s more trouble in this equation?”

Dan froze, then pointed at you and named, “Trouble.” His finger swiveled to point at Herbert, and maybe had two seconds of another pause before the other man scoffed, “Oh, right. I wasn’t the one just using [his/her/their] card to get into Pathology – as a meagre paper pusher, mind you.”

“Graves let me in. I had a reason to be there.” You corrected, trying not to look at Dan with your old shade of [y/e/c] eyes, hiding the smile threatening to smack everyone in the small three-sided crowd silly. Herbert only gave an expression of half belief while Dan simply cocked his head at you, both a little lost but none the wiser to tell you.

You weren’t sure if they had gotten home before you or not, but either way something was keeping you glued to the counter. For once, you didn’t want to quell your interest in everyday life around this morgue turned three-person home.

Perched on a stool, you stared at the vial across from you. Still luminescent, still hard to tell what the hell it was supposed to do. Was it thick like a syrup? Frothy like a beer? What would happen if I shook it? You wrinkled your nose at the idea, trying to see the consistency from where you were sitting.

A loud bang from the basement answered your original question. Dan’s voice scatched through the wall.

“I can’t mess this up.”

Herbert immediately retorted, “Mess it up? You’re practically drooling outside the bedroom door every other night! the only thing being messed up is our work before [Y/N] came here.”

The sound of your name made you turn your head, hand encircling the bottle as you finally hopped off the stool, slowly approaching the sound of the argument coming from downstairs.

“Herbert, what the hell are you talking about?”

“Oh, please. You’re not hiding anything, Dan.”

A loud slam made you press your palm into the door, clutching the vial to your chest as you hesitated. He didn’t hit him, You immediately assured yourself, aware it was in vain but utterly horrified at the idea alone, trying to muster the will to push through. It only immobilized you again, clasped by the terror of wanting to remain in a position where you couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t.

Another slam, this time with more shifting afterwards, someone’s shoes squeaking on the floor. It didn’t sound like the wall this time, but rather furniture being pushed against the ground with movement. Your jaw dropped, and the vial now rested against your chest as you almost fell limp. Leaned against the wall, you heard a low sigh, an exasperated huff. Someone even uttered, “Damn you,” but it was hard to tell which one of them had said it. It was like the fight had been solved in mere seconds, and soon you were recognizing what it was.

A careful creak, and finally a third slam.

Then another.

And another.

“Damn you.” This time, it was very clear who was speaking, the reveling edge of Herbert’s tone something you had heard in a very different context before. You then realized that you had to leave it alone, rushing back down the hall and feeling a pang deep in your own core.

At least you knew something for sure after today.

[limetameta]

I wish you could just pin a fic of yours on your ao3 profile like no matter when you finish it you pin that bad boy on the fridge and say This one. If you wanna start reading my stuff start with THIS one

[emma-dennehy-presents]

Rewatching Xena was such a good idea. Im on the first season's Hercules episode and its a fucking event. There are super sentai lizard dudes busting out of eggs, with mixed material axes and swords, while making various mammal noises. Some 90s CGI to the max bird/dragon/pterodactyl thing that is supposed to be terrorizing Prometheus just picked Xena up and flew away into the wide blue screen yonder (were they on to green screen by 95?). Will probably go watch the Xena episodes of Hercules, before continuing with S1, but not much interest in the Hercules series otherwise. Sorbo will always be Captain Dylan Hunt to me. I could totally see Hunt being a conservative douchecanoe that makes shit like Gods Not Dead, after he retires.

[nikproxima]

MTV Retirement - Proxima

So I have some thoughts about what's gonna come of the original Proxima MTVs... Minerva and Prometheus will be converted into "Sleds", shuttling cargo and crew between the moon and Earth. Depots will be built in the locale of both the Earth and the Moon, which will refuel the vehicles after every run. Prometheus' crew space will be converted into a lunar station, Frontier, which will serve as a crew aggregate point for a lander and whatever ACEV vehicle was assigned to the mission, cargo and other vehicles. The Destiny program would see these vehicles continue to function well after their retirement from the Olympus program, with the new class of MTVs filling their place. Both Prometheus and Minerva will be retired by 2060, after 2 engine section refits. Selene will make these runs too, mainly tugging cargo before returning to Earth for outfitting for her final mission. Selene will ultimately be selected as a propulsion bus for the International Interstellar Medium Mission, a dedicated deep space vehicle launching in 2063.

[engin-program]

🤓🇺🇦 Curious about how personal finance works in Ukraine? Join us for this unique presentation from ENGin Student Fedir Markov, a seasoned financial planner and expert in financial literacy and education.

⚙️ Fedir will cover a variety of topics, including his own observations of the financial sector, retirement planning, and the importance of financial literacy education in Ukraine. Fedir has a diverse financial background and cross-cultural knowledge. He is a financial planner at Origin, headquartered in the U.S.; a financial advisor at Ribas Invest in Ukraine; and an Associate Professor at Pollissia National University, where he teaches a Financial Literacy course. Finally, he is the CEO of the non-governmental organization Life Building (Будівництво життя), where he actively promotes financial education and empowerment among youth in Ukraine.

👨‍🎓 Fedir holds a degree in Financial Management and Economy from Prometheus and has also completed two professional courses from American universities: Financial Planning for Young Adults course from the University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign and Personal and Family Financial Planning from the University of Florida.

👉 Register here: https://us02web.zoom.us/.../tZIkcu6hrjMtGtVJ46...

[rock-me-amadeus-epic-remix]

The only thing that will make Ridley Scott retire from the film industry is making a third AvP movie that incorporates everything from Prometheus and Alien Covenant but makes it so that the engineers made the Aliens to fight the Predators because the Predators were too strong for them

[mobydickering]

Yuletide 2024

Author letter ahead!

Hello! Thank you so much for writing for me!

General Likes: gremlins in love, character-driven fic, fake relationships turning into real relationships, accidental dating, aggressively requited pining, pining while they’re sleeping together, pining before they’re sleeping together, found family, being badass together, crying during sex, complete trust in each other, banter/teasing/flirting, small/unspoken displays of affection.

In general, I really love happy endings and people being soft and in love and happy together!

General Dislikes: unrealistic dialogue and OOC fic, sexual petplay, furry, vore, scat, full bdsm relationship, a/b/o, mpreg, infidelity, gaslighting, major character death, permanent amnesia, serious illness or death as plot devices, eating disorders, major depression, non-con, bestiality, rape, ageplay, non-consensual powerplays/imbalance of power, canon or AU stories focused on the coronavirus, anything unrequited.

Specific requests:

Kaos:

God I love the show so much and I'm so mad at Neflix that we don't get to see what the next stage of The Plan will be!

Some things I'd love to see (but honestly, I'm happy to read anything at all!):

I really loved Riddy and Caeneus and want so much more about both their individual journeys, and their eventual reunion! Give me absolutely anything relating to them and how they survive and thrive.

I also really, really love everything about the underworld and the bureaucracy in it. I would love to read anything about Medusa and Charon, and how the entire system of the underworld is held together by a couple of very tired people waiting for Prometheus' plan to come to pass.

Prometheus and Charon's first meeting after Prometheus is released.

Dionysius finding his purpose, ideally while making himself Ari's problem (affectionate).

Specific DNWs: any AUs. I really, really love the world they've built and would love to see stories within them.

Bend it like Beckham:

It's been 7 million years and I still think about Jess and Jules regularly. I really just crave more stories about them, but would love to see:

them in love and thriving in the world of professional football!

their families interacting with each other and with them as they take on the WPS and maybe go to the World Cup?

what retirement might look like for them!

Time of the Ghost:

I have been obsessed with this story since I first read it, and would love to read anything involving the four sisters after the events of the book. If you want something more specific: I'd love to see anything about how they rebuild their lives, and whether Monigan regains any hold on them at all.

Sports Night:

I have a giant bone to pick with Aaron Sorkin and about 5 million things I'd love to see in this 'verse. Here are a few, but please feel free to write whatever moves you:

Dana deserved so much (I'm still mad about the just-date-other-women-but-WANT-to-date-me-Casey storyline), and I'd love to read fic that gives her everything she deserves. I'd love any and all Dana-centric fic, but especially something that lets her just have fun and do her job! If you want to throw any romance in there (ideally not with Casey, because. Hooboy.) please do!

I also love Dana's dynamic with Natalie and Kim and would love to read that!

I love Dan&Casey and Dan/Casey. I'd love to read fic about those lines blurring and how they don't deal with. (I assume they would eventually deal with it, especially if other people were forcing them to.)

I would LOVE to read an outsider's POV on whatever Dan & Casey (romantically ideally) have going on!

I also welcome any treats at all! Thank you!