#save me helen richardson...please save me...

[thedispatch]

And if I were to tell you I'm down bad for the manifestation of insanity, the throat of delusion, what would you do then, huhhh??? Arrest me???

[ohthestoryteller]

my friend made a compilation of all the times helen came through the door except they added a slide whistle every single time and then they deleted the text that had it

[allavengedromance]

A compilation of interactions between Jon and Helen from beginning to end because they had the best dynamic

Transcript under the cut

[MAG 47]

[CLICK] [SOUND OF PEN SCRATCHING AGAINST PAPER IN SHARP, FRUSTRATED MOVEMENTS]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Helen Richardson, regarding, uh… how would you describe it?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

ARCHIVIST

…Miss Richardson?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

HELEN

– uh, what?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

ARCHIVIST

Your experience, how would you summarize it?

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES]

HELEN

Um, well, I’ve been, I’ve been trying to draw you a map, but, it doesn’t, it doesn’t work.

[PEN SCRATCHING CONTINUES; HELEN CAN NOW BE HEARD BREATHING HARD AS THE ARCHIVIST SPEAKS]

ARCHIVIST

– Right. Statement of Helen Richardson, regarding a new door in the house she was selling. Statement recorded direct from subject, 2nd October, 2016. Statement begins.

[MAG 101]

HELEN

Do you want to come in?

ARCHIVIST

Wh… Helen? H-Helen Richardson? But… But y– Michael…

HELEN

Michael isn’t me. Not now.

ARCHIVIST

What happened?

HELEN

He got… distracted. Let feelings that shouldn’t have been his overwhelm me.

Lost my way.

ARCHIVIST

And now? Y-__you’re__ Helen?

[MAG 115]

[KNOCK, KNOCK]

[Calls] Come i–

[KNOCK, KNOCK]

[More sombrely] Come in.

[A NEW DOOR CREAKS OPEN]

[Sharply] What do you want?

HELEN

Not sure. To talk.

ARCHIVIST

You’re keeping her face, then.

HELEN

I am Helen.

ARCHIVIST

Don’t pretend to be people I know. Knew.

HELEN

I’m not pretending.

ARCHIVIST

You’re not Helen Richardson.

[MAG 115]

HELEN

Before, talking to you made Helen feel better.

ARCHIVIST

You’re not that Helen!

HELEN

I just want… I just want to feel better.

ARCHIVIST

…

I don’t believe you.

HELEN

You don’t?

ARCHIVIST

Wh-what? Why should I believe… a-a-any of this? You’ve told me over and over that you’re… what was the phrase? The ‘throat of delusion’? All of this is –

HELEN

I have never told you a lie, Archivist. I wouldn’t dare. I, I just thought you might understand.

ARCHIVIST

Uh… How could I possibly…

HELEN

We’re both changing, Archivist. I had hoped, that together –

ARCHIVIST

[Furious] Get out.

[MAG 131]

[MELANIE SIGHS, KNOCKS ON THE DOOR] MELANIE

She’s been helping us.

ARCHIVIST

[Sharply] It has never helped anyone. Not without a cost.

[THE DOOR CREAKS OPEN] HELEN

If I am an “it”, Archivist, then what does that make you?

[THE DOOR CREAKS CLOSED] MELANIE

Hi, Helen.

ARCHIVIST

[Coldly] I have been told you can help.

HELEN

I have been trying to. But the last time you were very rude to me.

ARCHIVIST

You’re still wearing her face.

HELEN

Not this again. I’m not “wearing” anything, Archivist. I am at least as much ‘Helen Richardson’ as you are the ‘Jonathan Sims’ that first joined this Institute.

[MAG 143]

ARCHIVIST

Why are you here?

HELEN

I told you! I’ve decided to help. I thought you might like a way home?

ARCHIVIST

Another door?

HELEN

If you want it. (short pause) How was it?

ARCHIVIST

Hm?

HELEN

Looking upon the Dark.

ARCHIVIST

I thought I was going to die.

HELEN

You seem to think that a lot.

[MAG 152]

HELEN

(“delicately” hinting) Although – some of us are always lost, in a sense.

ARCHIVIST

Wait, are you saying you can navigate it?

HELEN

Not exactly, but my door has been part of these tunnels for some time now.

ARCHIVIST

Wh – (frustrated sputtering) – what’s it hiding, wh-what’s in the middle?

HELEN

(suppressed laughter) A delightful surprise…!

[HE SIGHS. SHE LAUGHS, OVERLAPPING HIM AND HERSELF, SEEMINGLY OUT OF SEVERAL THROATS AT ONCE, AND WITH A DRAINED, SLEEPY QUALITY TO IT WHEN SHE FINDS THAT SHE HAS LAUGHED TOO LONG, AND MUST STOP TO INHALE. HER LAUGHTER, IN SHORT, NOW SOUNDS EXACTLY LIKE MICHAEL’S. THE ARCHIVIST SIGHS AGAIN, RESIGNED TO HER.]

[MAG 152]

HELEN

Hungry, are we?

ARCHIVIST

(angrily) That’s not –

– I haven’t done anything –

HELEN

– yet.

ARCHIVIST

(roughly) I feel like if I don’t… I might die. Fade away into nothing.

HELEN

…

Do you… Know that?

ARCHIVIST

No. But I… (frustrated noise) I can’t die. They need me.

HELEN

Come on, John, no excuses.

[HE SIGHS AS SHE SPEAKS.]

They don’t need your protection.

[MAG 152]

HELEN

Helen was like you, at first.

[HE CAN BE HEARD INHALING UNHAPPILY IN THE BACKGROUND.]

She felt such guilt over taking people. Until one day she realized she wasn’t going to stop doing it. So she chose to stop feeling guilty.

ARCHIVIST

Fine. I get it.

[MAG 157]

[CLICK] [HEAVY KNOCKING ON A DOOR. IT SWINGS OPEN.] ARCHIVIST

Helen.

HELEN

Jonathan.

ARCHIVIST

I need – you said before you knew the tunnels, right? That you’d been a… part of them?

HELEN

Not my exact words, but close enough.

ARCHIVIST

I need to know what’s in there. What’s at the center? (urgently) I-it’s important, Martin – I need to know.

HELEN

(cheerfully) That’s a shame, because I’m afraid I’m not going to tell you!

ARCHIVIST

(aghast) What? Why not?

HELEN

Because I have a good enough sense of what’s going on to know that it will be much more fun without my involvement! (begins laughing)

ARCHIVIST

What? You – you said you were going to help!

HELEN

I am.

ARCHIVIST

I don’t have time for this.

[164]

HELEN

Remember? And please – my name is Helen.

ARCHIVIST

Like you said, I can know everything now, including how much of a lie that really is.

HELEN

Don’t mistake complication for falsehood, dear Archivist. And remember, that knowledge is not the same thing as understanding!

ARCHIVIST

What do you want.

HELEN

To say hello! And check up on the happy couple.

[She laughs again.]

[166]

ARCHIVIST

Hello, Helen.

HELEN

Oh, hello! In a better mood, are we?

(lower, teasing) Feeling more secure now you’ve learned how to kill?

[As she speaks, a shimmery, high-pitched sound starts to layer over the background.] ARCHIVIST

(inhale) Something like that.

MARTIN

Will you tell me how he did it?

ARCHIVIST

Martin…

MARTIN

He just keeps going all vague about it.

HELEN

Oh, goodness. You see what you’ve done to the poor boy, John? He’s coming to me for clear answers.

[She snorts, and it turns into her trademark laugh.]

ARCHIVIST

Shut up.

[177]

HELEN

Oh, John? Not to sound like a squeaky hinge, but do try to lighten up. Don’t get me wrong, the brooding thing’s a good look on you, but it is starting to get a bit tired. Especially now you’ve got someone else to do the intense, driven thing. I think you might need to get a new schtick.

ARCHIVIST

[Sarcastic] Thank you for the feedback. I’ll try to bear it in mind.

[183]

ARCHIVIST

What we want doesn’t matter much these days.

[HELEN MAKES A RASPBERRY NOISE]

HELEN

Oh nonsense. What we want is the only thing that matters these days. And Basira wanted to join Daisy.

ARCHIVIST

She made her choice.

HELEN

With your assistance.

ARCHIVIST

It was still her choice.

HELEN

[Sighing] What a waste.

ARCHIVIST

No.

It wasn’t.

[MAG 187]

HELEN

You really don’t like me, do you?

ARCHIVIST

No.

HELEN

And you never have.

ARCHIVIST

Not really.

HELEN

Even though I saved you from Michael.

ARCHIVIST

You were Michael.

HELEN

Argh. I’m The Distortion, as was Michael, but I am not him, and never have been. Surely you know all this by now, what with your shiny new eye powers?

ARCHIVIST

It’s not about what I know. It’s about what I feel.

HELEN

[Disparagingly] Oh, what do you feel?

ARCHIVIST

I liked Helen.

HELEN

I am Helen.

ARCHIVIST

The real one.

HELEN

…

Helen-Classic.

ARCHIVIST

Sure.

HELEN

But that doesn’t make any sense. You barely met her. You had half an hour together, and she spent most of that ranting about mazes! She was positively delirious with paranoia!

ARCHIVIST

True. But as you’ll recall, I was pretty paranoid myself at that point.

[MAG 187]

ARCHIVIST

I got you rattled.

HELEN

I’m not scared of you.

ARCHIVIST

Helen… Was that… a lie?

HELEN

[Too quickly] No!

ARCHIVIST

A lie. A genuine untruth. Like a little bit of loose thread, flitting in the breeze.

HELEN

Fine. You can go.

[SHIFTING, AND A NEW DOOR OPENS]

There’s the door. Just go!

ARCHIVIST

Ceaseless Watcher!

HELEN

No!

[THROUGH THE INCANTATION, THE HARSH BUZZ OF STATIC MINGLES WITH CREAKING WOODWORK AND CRUMBLING CRICK]

ARCHIVIST

See this lie, this golden strand of falsehood. Take it in your gaze and pull it, follow through its curves and twists and knots as it unravels all before you.

HELEN (BACKGROUND)

No. No! No! No, Archivist! Stop! John, it’s me, it’s Helen. It’s me. I’ve always been your friend. Don’t do this to me. I have always helped you. I have always helped you and lent you doors. Think of all that I have done for you. If you do this, everyone inside me is dead!

ARCHIVIST

Unweave it now, its fear and its falsehood, its hidden teeth and the ones it wears so proudly.

HELEN (BACKGROUND)

You’re no different – You are no different from me! You can’t save anyone!

ARCHIVIST

Take all that it is and all that it has. It is yours!

HELEN

No! NOOOOOO!

[HELEN’S VOICE IS STRETCHED AND VANISHED] [EXTENDED SOUNDS OF DISTORTED DEMOLITION]

[MAG 47]

HELEN

Finally, [suppressing tears] after the latest bout of nightmares, I decided to come to you and tell you my story. Maybe you can make some sense of this.

ARCHIVIST

…Perhaps. Leave it with us. We’ll… do some digging and see what we can find.

HELEN

[tearful] You believe me, then?

ARCHIVIST

I… yes. Yes, I think I do.

[aerialflight]

Fic Recs

I haven’t done this in a while, recommending fics. But there were some fics these past couple of months that put a smile on my face, so I want to spread that joy to others. Seriously, they’re so good and I want to shove all these recs at people and have them appreciate them as much as I do. Everyone stay safe and I hope these recs make staying home easier for everyone!

-

[Fullmetal Alchemist]

maestoso by novalotypo

Edward Elric is about eleven when he stands up, makes an extended effort to knock as many books off the old bastard’s shelves as he can, and says, “Fuck the military. Al, you interested in music at all?”

Everybody's got their own ideas of retirement.

The Elrics don't even do retirement, what with the world trying to blow itself up every other month, but this shit has got to take the fucking cake.

(You want a fic that’ll make you cry tears of uncontrollable laughter? I point you to this fic. The shenanigans, the fact this is a time travel fic, the fucking headaches the Elrics cause, the I-Have-No-Fucks-To-Give attitude. Legend.)

-

[The Magnus Archives]

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way.

OR: in which Jon is not the only Archival monster for very long, Sasha James is competent, Tim Stoker finds some catharsis, Helen Richardson is sexy, Melanie makes a very successful youtube channel revamp, and Martin Blackwood gets to brew a lot of new friends tea.

(This is literally the most creative, fucking inspired tma fic I’ve ever read. You literally will never be able to guess what happens next and it’s just so much fun.)(Kinda Time Travel, you’ll understand what I mean if you read it, it’s so well done and amazing.)(The characterization for Sasha makes me want to weep, I’ve never seen her characterized this way before and it makes SO MUCH SENSE.)(@savrenim you are a QUEEN and you inspire me to be a better writer.)

-

[Marvel]

Crash Landing by Nyxelestia

"You could've left me there," Adrian murmured, jerking his head back towards the burning beach in the distance. "For Stark and his DODC people to find me. Liz and Doris' lives would've actually fallen apart with my arrest, and all my work to take care of them would've gone to waste. You could've just left me there...but you didn't. So I'll make you another deal."

Peter clenched his hands, fists shaking hard. "I'm giving you a second chance - but if you go back to what you were doing...I can't make any promises."

"It would be stupid of me to expect you to, after all this," Adrian said. He looked at Peter, at the hints of bruises and all the blood. He had trouble reconciling this fragile-looking kid with the superhuman who's been destroying his business, his daughter's homecoming date with the boy he'd nearly killed. "That's not my deal. My deal is, we both walk away, and neither of us say a word about any of this to Liz. Anything else - we'll cross those bridges as we come to them."

Swallowing, the boy nodded.

Instead of gift-wrapping the Vulture for Happy to find, Peter lets Mr. Toomes go.

(Honestly, I’m disappointed in the fact there’s not many Vulture-centric fics out there. This was so great and Peter was wonderfully characterized here along with Ned.)(I have a deep craving now for more Adrian Toomes fics and I blame this fic for that. I don’t regret it one bit.)

-

[The Witcher]

all some children do is work by some_stars

It's two children, he realizes as they slowly sit up. They look about eight or nine, not that he's much judge of children's ages. One is a girl, dark-haired, in a shabby dress. The other is a boy. His clothes aren't much better, and his hair isn't much lighter than the girl's, but his eyes—

His eyes, Jaskier realizes with a distant sense of horror, are gold like a cat's. His mind makes one more valiant effort to keep from connecting the obvious dots and recognizing them, and then it finally does.

"How in the unholy fuck," Jaskier says to no one, "did this shit happen?"

(So sweet it’ll give you cavities. Break your own heart reading this, I dare you.)

of music and motion and love by WriteThroughTheNight

When Jaskier was four, he slipped his mother’s watch and went to the field to gather a bouquet of dandelions. He climbed back into the yard, as stealthy as a child really cared to be, and crept over to the barn. In the barn, lived a secret. (The man he thought his father said the secret was a monster, a plague. His mother said the secret was his sister.)

OR

Jaskier comes from a far humbler background, and would really like to know why Yennefer never came back for her youngest brother.

(YENNEFER AND JASKIER AS SIBLINGS ENOUGH SAID. FIENOWPAFE)

to render it transparent by theundiagnosable

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

(Where Geralt wakes up in the future and Jaskier and Geralt live at the Coast.)(They are Disasters. What else is new.)(Everything’s lovely and emotionally repressed.)

-

[Game of Thrones]

if I give you my heart, will you promise not to break it? by janie_tangerine

Ship: Brienne/Jaime

“It’s not broken,” she protests.

“Please,” Ronnet goes on, “it’s all red. Red hearts like that are broken and their owners are either useless or more effort than they’re worth. ‘Course you would get a broken one, who else would want you?”

“It’s not,” Brienne hisses, and at that he stops talking. She realizes her voice had turned cold. Very cold. A coldness that doesn’t belong to her, she’s never sounded like that, but it seems to come from the pulsing warmth in her hands, again - “and the day I find him you’ll see he’s not broken or damaged or unworthy. And I sure as the seven hells hope no one got saddled with yours.

in which soulmates find each other through one of them having the other's heart.

or, in which Brienne gets a mostly broken one the day Jaime Lannister kills Aerys Targaryen.

(So this is a series, just want to put that out there. And I read through all of them cause I just couldn’t do otherwise. Brienne is obviously the bravest, most noble, most amazing of course. And Jaime makes me want to punch a wall because feels.)(This soulmate idea is so creatively and well done, has become one of my favorite soulmate tropes.)(There are a lot of interesting pairings in this series and the way the author went about the relationships and this expanding world has me giving all the yeses.)(Please read!!!)

-

[Gilmore Girls]

Weather Me by missgoalie75

Ship: Paris Geller/Jess Mariano

A year in the life of Paris and Jess.

(PARIS GELLER AND JESS MARIANO AT THEIR VERY BEST HOLY SHIT!!! I can hear their voices in every line, every thought, every damn interaction and I am so in love it's ridiculous. Paris in particular won me over, I have become incredibly fond of her and it's honestly brilliant! And Jess has a beautiful mind and I love him, I do. God, do I.)(missgoalie75 did it again.)

Living With It by thesaltyavocado

Ship: Lindsay Lister/Jess Mariano

#Future Fic, #Post-Season/Series Finale, #So Your Ex is Now Your Step-Cousin, #And You're Dating Her Ex's Ex!, #A Step-by-Step Guide to Getting Over It

(There’s no summary, it’s a series, and I’m in LOVE. I am a sucker for really, really well done rare pairs, and this is the rarest of them all. Go for it. It’s beautiful.)(Also, the author is literally the BEST, the VERY BEST at making me want to ship people I never even thought of. They’re awesome.)(check out all their fics, I went on a spree and you should too.)

-

[The Hunger Games]

Speechless by thesaltyavocado

Ship: Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket

Effie was kind, she was warm, she offered comfort to anyone who needed it, microphones be damned. She had a reputation for generosity amongst the Victors that Haymitch hadn't paid any attention to, because he was so paranoid about showing his hand that he barely even said her name around other people, barely even acknowledged her existence. Everyone thought he hated her, Beetee had explained. Everyone knew the stories about how he'd made her cry in the sponsor's lounge at the opening of the 61st Games, how he'd blown up at Cecelia that time when she'd asked him to pass a message onto Effie for her. Is that why none of you assholes ever liked me? Haymitch had asked. No, we didn't like you because you were a prick, Beetee told him, which was fair enough.

(The best, and I mean the best fic I’ve ever read regarding this pairing. Nothing is ever going to top this. Nothing.)(The WORLDBUILDING. FUCK.)(Literally everyone is perfectly characterized in new, heartbreaking ways and I just, fuck. Fuck.)(I don’t care if you’re not into the fandom, this will make you fall in love and see the characters with new eyes and it’s absolutely stellar.)(I want to cry.)(You don’t even have to be here for the ship, just be here for the writing, characterization, the WORLDBUILDING, fucking everything.)(Please.)(This fic NEEDS more love.)(I have fallen in love with Effie Trinket.)(This is my life now.)

-

[Harry Potter]

Walkabout by thesaltyavocado for teethandstars

Ship: Hermione Granger/Sirius Black

"You are always far too handsome for your own good," Hermione says, "in any timeline."

(The author strikes again when it comes to shipping people I don’t expect to love, yet here it is. Such an interesting fic where the time travel already happened and it’s the aftermath that the fic covers.)(Again, characterization off the fucking charts and I just want to wrap myself up in their words and live there.)(A story about broken people trying to find peace within themselves.)

-

[Stranger Things]

and you hunger for the time by missgoalie75

Ship: Steve Harrington/Kali Prasad

after the battle of starcourt, steve figured the rest of the summer would involve not working, waiting for his busted ribs and face to heal, hanging out with robin and the party, and trying to ignore the panic he feels whenever he thinks about his future. All that does happen, but other unexpected things happen too.

(Bet you didn’t see this ship coming, did you? Neither did I, yet here we are.)(missgoalie75 is the gift that keeps on giving.)(But in all seriousness this is my favorite characterization of Steve, hands down.)(This fic needs more kudos and comments and basically all the love it deserves.)(God tier characterization and relationship development.)

-

[Sinbad: Legend of the Seven Seas]

nfwmb by perennial

Ship: Eris/Proteus

The goddess of discord isn't careless enough to fall in love with a do-gooder mortal prince—unless, of course, she doesn't know it's happening.

(Okay, hear me out. I know it’s weird, I can feel the judgement coming from my screen. But I am weak in the face of rare pairings that actually work and the fact I fucking loved this movie ever since I was a kid, okay? So if anybody else loves this fandom as much as I do, stand up and take notice of this. I am here to tell you there are worthwhile fics to be read in this very, very small fandom.)

I'll keep turning down the hands that beckon me to come by deavors

Ship: Marina/Proteus/Sinbad

“Jealous?” Sinbad says, voice easily and casually mocking, but there’s something else under there, an undertone that speaks of so many things Marina isn’t even close to understanding.

“Extremely,” says Proteus, cracking a half-smile, but Marina feels like he’s not joking.

They stare at each other for a few moments. Marina’s gaze flickers between them. Sun and moon. She wishes—she doesn’t know what she wishes. Her heart is twisting again, but in a different way from before: as though it’s half-empty and longs to be full.

(You have no idea how in love I am with the idea of these three being in a poly relationship. No idea.)(I’ve been shipping all of them the moment I was introduced to the idea of polyamory relationships.)(This is THE poly ship for me.)(Nothing’s ever gonna come close. Nothing.)

-

[Crossovers]

Trust Me, I'm an Alchemist by metisket

Fandoms: Yuri!!! on Ice, Fullmetal Alchemist

In which Yuri Plisetsky began life with the name Edward Elric, and this has made the world of figure skating a significantly stranger and more alarming place.

“Are you saying you lived a life of crime before you began skating?” “I’m gonna have to check the statute of limitations on a couple things and get back to you on that.”

(Meme Alien Edward, Ninja Alphonse who’ll smile at you as you Perish, Disaster Gay Victor, Disaster Gay Maniac Yuuri.)(If this isn’t incentive enough, the Elrics traumatizing and delighting social media with their Life Stories and their Life of Crime.)(Feral Elrics being Feral Elrics.)(It’s the kind of fic that gets better with every chapter, cause the shenanigans just keep ESCALATING.)

[peachdoxie]

Okay! I’ve listened to eight more episodes of the Magnus Archives (99-106) and took notes on my phone in place of a liveblog, since my phone still can’t access tumblr. My laptop can, though, so I emailed the notes to myself. I figured I’d just post them all here for those of you following my liveblog, and also as a record for myself. It’s considerably more disjointed than when I usually post liveblog comments, but whatever. Anyway, below the cut are the notes. No spoilers, please.

Running list of the names that have showed up for sure

The Spiral

The Web

The Eye

The End

The Stranger

(Two others)

Possible names

The Buried? (Was this what Gertrude destroyed in the pit episode??)

The Hunt?

The Hive (is this the same as the Web)

The Filth?

The Meat (where does this fall??)

The Shrinking Walls (maybe the Buried?)

Episode 99:

Rip Jon worrying about his humanity and also the other people

Lol @jon worrying about the Admiral

WTF Gertrude's Michael is also the Michael???

How many Michaels are there???

Jon got kidnapped by the Russian/cockney guys

Episode 100:

Woman saw burning ghost of a woman in her flat. Jude?

Such an awkward episode lol

Peter Lucas person randomly shows up, static on tape, and says he has an appointment with Elias

"The only person you have to rely on is yourself" - but Jon is worried he's losing his sense of self, maybe?

Episode 101:

Michael doesn't want the Circus or the Archive to win

He wants to kill Jon for revenge

Did Gertrude sacrifice Michael for some reason? (Reminds me of the pit guy crying)

"To destroy our transcendence"

PETER LUCAS

Gertrude was good at "distorting the truth"

Michael (assistant) reminds me of Martin

Who the fuck was Gertrude???

"Of becoming. Of finally crossing the threshold into yourself."

Gertrude's map to Michael - who? how? why?

"And Michael became me."

What the actual fuck

"Reduced once again to feeding on the ??? and the confused"

Michael said Jon was a better Archivist than Gertrude—what???

The door is locked, but Michael says it's not (then he screams) WHAT THE FUCK

Helen Richardson....so Michael is now Helen, sort of. What's her game? She doesn't know yet. She is rescuing Jon though.

Episode 102:

The Dance, the Chorus

They need an important skin (hence the bear, but also maybe Jon's)

Jon having random knowing powers

I stg if Jon has to sacrifice Martin to save the world

Jon can read French

"stranger or filth"

There were several episodes with New Zealand

Get Jon some fucking therapy

Episode 103:

"Statement ends" *done sigh* (he does this like every episode lol)

So Jon used his abilities to get the traffic guy to get the paper

And now he's going behind Elias's back to meet with Daisy and get her to....?

Jon didn't realize he'd turned the recorder on. Huh. Was it him who did it? Was it a subconscious thing? Hmm.

WHY THE RECORDER

Episode 104:

Martin also zones out when reading statements

When did someone tell Martin about the Unknowing?

Tim has the circus book at the same time as all the stuff. Coincidence?

Why is Jon in China?

Also rip Tim. Why is his brother's disappearance relevant?

Ghost buildings. We've seen these before, like in the Pall Mall episode, and maybe the Archive as well.

I'm not surprised that Robert Smirck is involved

"The show must go on" what did he see???

Is this experience why Elias hired Tim? If so...why Martin?

How diegetic is the circus music? Didn't Jon say something about hearing music when talking about the circus earlier?

Huh. So Elias doesn't want Tim involved. Why?

Episode 105:

A sister organization. Hm.

Seeing the faces of those killed in the mirrors. And singing.

Was Gertrude searching for a new power? Why was she in China??

Oh, so Gertrude sent two files to somewhere in the US. Huh. Why?

Episode 106:

Didn't we already hear this guy speak already? I know the Daedalus came up before. I think.

"Existential vertigo"

This isn't the same one

OH this is isolation guy but from one of the other's perspective

Existential reasons - part of the psych profile?

Manuela and lasers

"The sense of a presence"

How does this connect to the isolation guy story?

Was this guy claimed as an avatar of this thing?

This is like the opposite of the shrinking walls. Are all the powers opposites?

Did Manuela also experience something?

Eldritch horror thing

This episode is quite unsettling

Where did that guy go? We’ve seen several “disappeared off the face of the earth” people

Also, when are they gonna connect the Daedalus statements together?

This episode passed the Bechdel test

Also, Melanie just....forgot? what she was reading

Also lol @them wondering if Jon and Martin are a thing

"I could have placed the ideas in your head" wtf who IS Elias?

FUCK. IVY MEADOWS. WHAT THE FUCK.

FUCK FUCK FUCK.

What is Elias doing to Melanie? What the fuck.

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘Flesh’ (S04E11) Analysis

Well, this is a … meaty episode.  Come on in to hear what I have to say about ‘Flesh’.

Wow.  I wasn’t anticipating kicking things off with a proper heart-to-heart with Melanie, but I am seriously glad to get her perspective. There were a lot of things there that I had suspected—that a part of Melanie wanted the bullet; that the rage was hers, and the Slaughter just pointed it at things; that she feels the contradiction of knowing she’s been saved and knowing it was probably the right thing to do and also hating Jon and Basira for doing it.  There were also some things I hadn’t expected.  Melanie’s perspective on Basira is especially interesting, that she’s killed off her emotions and is running on intel and assets. She’s acting on strategy, and is probably the most put-together person in the Archives because of it, but it’s also locked her away from any real connection with Melanie.

I also found it interesting that Melanie isn’t even bothering to mention Martin.  He must have split off from them early in the six months, for her to completely disregard him in her calculations of being alone.  Basira is a factor, and Jon is a factor, and they’re both not great for her.  And not only because they did non-consensual surgery on her and took away the thing that directed her rage, even if it was killing her.  Basira refuses to see others as more than game pieces at this point (possibly more evidence that Elias is seeing her more and more as a successor for him), and Jon tries to connect in disastrous ways.  He really is trying to apologize, but he’s desperate for it partly because he needs someone to forgive and accept him.

And I get that.  Jon woke up and found that everyone remotely close to him is totally rejecting him.  Georgie walked away.  Martin is blocked from interacting with him.  Melanie sees him in her nightmares.  Basira sees him as another asset, and likely an unreliable one at that. He has absolutely no one, and for the first time in a very long time, I think that bothers him.

And it turns out that Melanie might have one other person to be close to, or at least as much a person as Jon is these days.  Helen Richardson has taken to putting a door in the tunnels, it sounds like, and has helped repel the attacks on the Archives on numerous occasions.  That makes the Lonely, the Web, the Slaughter, and the Spiral all defending the Beholding against other attacks including the Corruption, the Desolation, and the Flesh.  That’s a lot more alliances than I was expecting.  I have to wonder if there aren’t overriding alignments that are intangible, yet lead some powers to be naturally aligned in certain ways. Or if it’s more down to individual actors.  And I also don’t trust any of those alliances to be stable, or not fraught with betrayal. After all, Jared was asked to attack the Archives, specifically to kill the Archivist through anonymous letters. That sounds more like the work of the Web or the Lonely than any other power, and I really wouldn’t put it past them to play both ends toward the middle.  Helen’s motives are equally mysterious, and it seems that she acted because the Distortion rather likes the Archivist, despite the fact that she herself is angry with him.  

And Jon … Jon just can’t resist a statement, even if it means losing an extra rib to Jared (and really? Do you think he can’t do something with that rib, Jon?  Something that will come back and bite you in the end, possibly literally?).  I also find it interesting that Jon’s healing powers actively resisted him losing a body part.  Almost like they were trying to tell him that a physical anchor is a stupid idea or something.  And really, even though he has a lot of ribs, I hope from a medical perspective that Jared was considerate and removed his floating ribs, because otherwise that’s an invitation to a pneumothorax in the future.  I know he’s got magical healing powers, but seriously Jon, your ribs are there for a reason.

But he’s deeply addicted to the stories, to the point where he disregards his own safety time and time again, so he probably never even considered long-term necessity of specific bones.  If the other powers paid any attention, they would realize his greatest flaw is on ready display.

But instead they’ve been attacking.  And in Jared’s case, it was because for several years he’s been getting letters, typed in large font with simple instructions to target specific people, all of whom seemed either attracted to the Flesh or who would make good material for him.  I lean toward either the Web (obvious) or the Lonely sending him the letters, playing both ends toward the middle where the Beholding is concerned.  Because they may be allies, but I also really doubt any other power wants to see the Watcher’s Crown succeed.

No matter who sent them, he came to trust those letters, always one to follow his own interests rather than pursue some grand ambition.  I find it interesting that he was more than willing to follow that trail, when he flat-out refused to participate in the Feast, preferring the world as it was to any the Flesh might make of it.  Maybe it speaks to his simplicity.

Or maybe he’s the first avatar since Jon that we’ve met who deliberately does not want their ritual to succeed.  I’d love to figure out what it is about certain avatars that draws them to completing a ritual, and why others don’t seem terribly bothered by it.  Is it a lack of ambition, as Jared said, or is there something more fundamental about their personalities?  Both Jared and Jon are contrarian by nature, albeit in very different ways.  Is it possible those contrarian tendencies were enough to withstand the drive toward a ritual, despite being an avatar?  Helen pointed out that Jon is too frantic to label himself ‘not people’, when the distinctions are both far less clear and absolutely unimportant.  Jon cannot see that Helen is still Helen, despite what was done to her.  Although she was taken by the Distortion, the parts of her that were Helen survived, just as the eager-to-please parts of Michael Shelley survived before her.  The distinction between the monster and the person isn’t as clear-cut as Jon wants to believe.  So maybe it’s simply that certain avatars always had the personality to resist the rituals, and others always had the personality to embrace them.

Oh, and hey, we got some physical descriptors of the archival staff: Basira apparently still screams ‘cop’, and Melanie is ‘skinny’, and it’s possible Martin was the ‘wee’ one? It’s hard to say (and personally I cling to my absurdly tall Martin headcanon).  

So, now Jon has a rib and a really dumb plan (I appreciate that absolutely no one seemed to think ‘I will use a body part as an anchor’ is a good plan, though no one outright told him he’s an idiot).  Melanie has a possible-friend in Helen, and even seems to have started making her way past loathing Jon for what he did to her.  Basira is elsewhere, and her actions (particularly Melanie’s description of them) make me very worried about how much like Elias she’s becoming.  And Helen is … there.  Since she’s the Distortion, we really can’t trust her to be a reliable ally, but thus far the Distortion seems to be holding to some sort of alliance with Jon, for whatever reason.

And Jon has a coffin to dive into next week, possibly.  I can’t imagine that’s going to go well.

I’ll be interested to see if they try to actually narrate Jon’s journey through the coffin, or if we end up with more of an outside perspective.  I suppose we’ll find out next week.  

[wendylewis-blog]

05.14.2020 /MamasDay+M-Th

Mamas’ Day

My friend Annie sent me a link this morning. I’m embarrassed that I never knew the actual history of Mothers’ Day.  I’ve made the grave mistake for years, it appears as of this morning, dismissing the event as just another Hallmark holiday created to ramp up national consumerism—out of sincerity or duty. Actually, the bigger story has been omitted from American history. The patriarchy (not YOU, men I love) strikes again! There is real feminist significance attached to this day, which deserves not only our attention—but also, our reverence. 

Teaser. “Mothers’ Day”—with the apostrophe not in the singular spot, but in the plural—actually started in the 1870s, when the sheer enormity of the death caused by the Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War convinced American women that women must take control of politics from the men who had permitted such carnage. Mothers’ Day was not designed to encourage people to be nice to their mothers. It was part of women’s effort to gain power to change modern society.  

Thank you, Heather Cox Richardson. I suggest following her with an easy click at the end of the link and/or follow her on Twitter. She posts daily, is politically savvy and keeps it concise/in-depth/readable. 

After canceling the initial Mothers’ Day plan with H/G/bbE/K because of bad weather, which would have put us inside the house, Kitty ended up in CF anyway to grab items I’d purchased for her at Costco. We spent an hour outside in the chilly grey afternoon by the fire pit after gathering kindling and firewood. She brought me brownies, a herby Italian verde sauce she’d made and a bottle of rye whiskey. H/G/bbE surprised me an hour later with a request via text to come into the yard in five minutes and brought tomato and pepper plants (woot!) for my garden. We all watched Ezra TV in the driveway for an hour. We especially enjoyed the episode featuring him teething on the steering wheel. Creative work, little man! 

After they left, I poured myself a stiff drink and stared out the studio window into early evening. A gentle rain was falling. I let circumstance go, let sadness and angst go. I washed my turgid blackboard down and tried to embrace some peaceful emptiness. I was in bed long before 10pm, sliding willingly into the time warp sleep provides for me lately. It was another bittersweet time with my people—not touching, not sitting at a table together, not able to relax into each other the way we would have a couple months ago. But, they are my family and it is never a diminishing return to be with them. Thank you for driving down to see us even though we had called the gathering off. It was a good Mothers’ Day. I love you all more than I can express!

My dreams that night were flush with all things post-apocalyptic. I was in an office building transformed into a flophouse of endless lonely cubicles, bare mattresses thrown down on synthetic grey carpet, bland tan fabric divider walls too short and porous to provide any privacy, a random empty chair here and there—askew, the bathroom’s flickering florescent light pulsing numbly through its plastic diamond-textured ceiling panel. I felt a disconnected calm inside me—a dead calm as I moved through the building. Everyone I saw in there was a stranger—except for an old bandmate I ended up in bed with— so impossible and surreal. It wasn’t the act, gratefully omitted, but the aftermath scenario instead—exposed, mannequin-esque bodies, no desire, no connection, no tenderness—only his crushing possessiveness after I explained that I had many other lovers even though I knew they didn’t matter either. I turned his noise off undramatically, easily as his panic escalated—the click of a switch—like turning off bad radio. He vanished, seemed to dematerialize on the dark street, leaving only strangers hanging on the corners, propped against buildings, inert yet somehow, guardian—but I felt nothing—nothing at all. Alive but dead inside. 

Mon

I woke up at 4:30AM. Shared dream details with B before he headed off to a fresh pot of coffee and work. I always benefit from his insightful (often hilarious) perspective on my intrepid darknesses, asleep or awake. In a previous issue of Lockdown, I’d queried how the virus and physical distancing might affect our intimacies going forward, the dream standing as the latest metaphor. I laid back down, folding into the quiet of my bed and may have slept awhile longer, still rising before dawn. 

Hours were spent in my garden that morning turning over soil in the crisp air, laying straw tiles separated from the bale in the wheelbarrow after cutting the blue plastic string. I laid them over the mulch that had cooked over the summer of 2019, which I’d lovingly spread a few days prior, prepping the ground for seeds that are en route to me: bush beans, marigolds, arugula, mustard, zinnia and nasturtium seeds from my sister, cilantro and basil from Etsy and those MD tomato and pepper seedlings from H+G. It’s been difficult to find non-GMO seeds around here—the same way it’s still hard to find TP, hand sanitizer, and lately, yeast and flour. I planted cilantro, Mexican tarragon, and basil plants I’d found in Northfield in pots, thyme and mint along garden edge that meets my front stoop. 

The morning felt hushed, orderly—my act of civility engaging with living things that don’t speak but offer company and require only my willingness to share a piece of earth with them. Before the sun reached over the garden, I decided to put in one cherry tomato plant because a tomato cage represented future sustenance. I could imagine the little plant growing tall to fill the cage, yellow flowers appearing before the fruit. It felt romantic and I succumbed. I watered everything, filled the bird feeder and headed off to Redwing to run an errand.

It felt good to drive the winding two-lane roads between overwintered, as yet unturned spring fields, slipping down the bluff lines along the Cannon River, the sun all full of itself. The sky was cerulean blue with tiny cotton ball clusters of clouds. The world beyond my windshield seemed serene and normal—even pastoral—a momentary ruse worth believing against the numbing dripdripdrip of our internment. Returning home, I cleaned the kitchen with a similar communion felt with the garden and highways. FaceTimed with a friend and planned a fire pit hootenanny with him and a few friends soon, walked the dog and sat on the stoop overlooking the yard. We ate soup from B’s mama for dinner (thank you, Helen), brought in the tender herb pots for the night and was ready to sleep before 8:30, a rarity for me. I have to say, it felt like a pretty good day! I count them all, good or not. 

Tues

It dipped just below freezing again last night and I really thought that sweet li’l cherry tomato plant that looked so sturdy yesterday could handle it but, ooof!—it’s droopy, quietly murdered overnight. Another casualty of Corona Times, like a broken promise, a breach of trust. I jerked it out of the ground without any tenderness and tossed it into the yard where it will eventually make love with mower blades and clipped grasses. I was mad at myself, of course. It’s just one tomato plant and I have more perched on the radiator under the south facing window, lined up like fresh recruitments ready for service. Still, each seedling, especially this year, feels like an individual. 

I’m alarmed with the message being conveyed by the White House in recent days—normalizing the loss of life, the US population being at least encouraged and possibly forced back into a virulent world with the expectation that we can save the collapsing economy. The grim reaper is leaning casually on his sickle next to my dead tomato plant, the one I exposed to the elements too soon, the one I planted with careless impunity to serve my immediate desire. 

Please listen to this conversation on Pema Chodron’s book When Things Fall Apart. I ordered it after years of intending to and it’s on the way. I will set it on the bookshelf next to my worn copies of Rilke’s Letters to a Young Poet, the Tao te Ching and Dillard’s For the Time Being. Reference books for being alive, human and uncertain. 

JFTR. On Being continues to win me over. Here’s another one if you decide to check it out. She’s really smart and this guest, Ocean Vuong—brilliant. 

Wed 

A beautiful essay penned by Gabriel Garcia Marquez’s son Rodrigo. Thanks, C, for sending—and for the seeds which arrived today. I didn’t plant more today because still freezing overnight. 

My college roommate long friend Toni linked me to this article over the weekend. It was SO fkn HELPFUL. It breaks down how the virus gets spread in a very practical way that you can use every day. This article is exactly why my fam and I reeled ourselves back from having lunch inside my house on Mothers’ Day. Everyone agreed.

Colbert has been killing it, as always and this one—so spot on. Also, Seth Meyers’ latest episode—I mean, please! Trump’s Mothers’ Day bit is truly—uhhnbelievable. Waking up to the absurdity of what is happening right now as it rolls and rolls. I also truly live for these socially distanced performances with Jimmy Fallon and The Roots. They make me joy-cry. 

There are good ppl out there doing their best. We are all trying to do our best, even on our hardest days. Beating the zombies back one by one. Don’t believe that the angry gun-toting ppl are coming for us. They are few. We are many. It’s time to activate.

I’ve noticed lately I’m getting a sense for when Jimmy Fallon or Stephen Colbert, for example, might be having a bad day. They aren’t on stage anymore, they don’t have a responsive audience to pump them up, they are people like we are, broadcasting from their homes. They struggle with life under the pandemic just the way we do. I can feel when they are having to get up for another broadcast from home or lapsing in attention, disengaging or losing the thread with someone they are interviewing. It’s an subtle nuance to notice, and it makes me feel as if I am getting a brief peek into their humanity instead of simply watching them put on the show.

I’ve also been making... um, haha... bread—the kind of bread you have to knead and let rise and punch down and knead and let rise again and so on. I finally got some active dry yeast and made two sandwich loaves a week ago. On my second round yesterday, I pushed my 20+ year old Kitchen Aide stand mixer beyond its limit. Smoke drifting from the housing, dough hook seizing up, goodbye trusty appliance. 

While the dough was going through its rising process, I searched DIY fixes which were plentiful and also searched for parts through the Kitchen Aide website, discovering they—are—not—selling—them. Really? Boo on you, Kitchen Aide. You won’t force me to buy a $400 mixer ever again. Double boo on you, assumed capitalism. Until I’m able to find the parts I need via Etsy or wherever (NOT Amazon ever again), I’ll use the mixer my mother-in-law offered me since she doesn’t use it much and remind myself of the days when I used to knead bread by hand—that ancient task. Again—get it together, Lewis! 

I’ll leave you with this brilliant essay from The Paris Review called Fuck the Bread. The Bread is Over. Thank you, Byrdie, for tagging me on this one. I’m still gonna make the bread one way or another because it saves money but I’ll keep the wise words from the authors mother closest to my heart, which translates loosely into stop holding on so tight to what you think you need.

Thurs

So, I’ve been writing today and editing and writing more and editing more. It’s all about thinking and re-thinking everything with nothing on my plate but time staring up at me. There is a strange blessing that has a chance to bloom inside this isolation. 

Go gently, my friends, family and any strangers who may be stopping by. Thanks for being here with me. I really appreciate you, wherever you are today.

Stay safe. Be strong. Fall apart. Know you aren’t alone. Lovelove.