#'i know Jon is going to sneak out and go kill Jonah on his own without telling anyone.

[liloinkoink]

i feel like ppl looking at character flaws in the dsmp fandom is always like "this is why you Shouldnt like this guy" as if him being flawed isnt the exact reason i go feral over him

THATS IT EXACTLY. i feel like good and interesting character analysis is generally supposed to be written from a place of love, of “this is the full portrait of what makes a character who they are” and helps you gain a better understanding of the character. bc like, you need to understand a character's flaws to understand them!

this might just be me coming from Magnus Archives fandom most recently, where the series genre was tragedy. tragedy is tragic because it is inevitable. tragedy is inevitable bc, even when other choices are available, a character's flaw's will drive them to make the choices which doom them. all you can do is watch. i remember listening to mag 199, the second to last episode of the series, and realizing i knew exactly what Jon was going to do at the start of mag 200. looked at what i knew about his flaws and you know what? i was right! best/worst feeling in the world was starting mag 200 and realizing oh, it really was inevitable, huh.

which was great! having a good understand of a character and their flaws means that you should be able understand where they'll fall into the trappings of those flaws. and sure, maybe in dsmp our genre isn't tragedy, and our cast's flaws aren't going to be their end fate, it's still incredibly important

however, i feel like “critical character analysis” here is instead “character criticism,” relying on the other definition of the word critic. the stuff i've seen is often by someone who doesn’t like or watch that person, explaining why you shouldn’t like or support that character. like. that’s not…

not only that, but bc of the way dsmp canon is set up, its also like....

i feel ive made it very clear i basically only watch techno pov. from my pov, the lights cast on characters like quackity are... not particularly flattering. and they don't have to be! unlike a normal series with one canon, where your work needs to flesh out everyone you want to be a 3-d character, dsmp does not do that.

quackity is already writing the story where he is the main character, where he is sympathetic. technoblade doesn't have to write that story. so quackity looks significantly more "irredeemable, unsympathetic, and exclusively villain" from my eyes as a technoblade viewer than from someone who only watches quackity pov. if i were to write an analysis on quackity, using what i know from techno's eyes... it's not going to look pretty, and im certainly not giving quackity any benefit of the doubt

which isn't even necessarily a bad thing, so long as i was acknowledging "this is quackity, as he looks like from techno's pov." that's actually has the potential to be a very interesting analysis! but i feel people often shaves off everything post-comma, which is incredibly disingenuous for quakcity as a character. i mean, techno-only pov wouldn't know about charlie or the fiances or the arc quackity is going on now, the things that quackity cares about or any development his character has. it's not fair to say that's an accurate picture of quackity as a whole!

especially when you then combine all of this (this post is so long oh my god lmao) with the attitude a lot of these posts seem to take, which you addressed in your ask... many "character critical" posts take a tone of 'this character is Bad and im trying to convince you to Not Like Them.' but that's not what character flaws are! character flaws are a part of what makes a character enjoyable and relatable and inform their decisions! it's exactly as you said! i like a character because of their flaws!

anyway, the end result is "critical character analysis" which boils down to Here Is Why You Should Hate This Character, written by someone who doesnt really watch that POV (and instead watches a character who dislikes the subject of their post), presented as objective fact of who that character is. the experience of reading such a post sounds in my head the exact same as putting two microphones next to each other and allowing the feedback make my ears explode

ALL THIS TO SAY, if all the analysis of a character’s flaws is written by ppl who hate that character, it’s doing a major disservice both to ppl who like and dislike the character by robbing all of us of proper and meaningful understanding.

also it’s, like. boring.

anyway. dsmp fandom is the first fandom to completely accurately replicate and, in fact, facilitate in-character communication issues between fans. and i suffer for this fact every day

(only somewhat related, but i do wonder if it might be worth keeping in mind stuff like what was the tone of the stream you watched on event XYZ when talking about analysis of dsmp, bc ive noticed i literally cannot take serious analysis of doomsday serious bc techno's doomsday is the most fun ive ever had watching a stream lmao like... sorry you guys are sad but i cannot think anything except that's a fuckin party!!! which absolutely has an effect on the way i engage w discussion. and i’m sure i’m not the only one. but that’s not the point of this post) (tl;dr ah the trials and tribulations of a series with many varied POVs)

[iamnmbr3]

TMA Rec List 11

Reasons Not To Lie Down And Die by Prim_the_Amazing (words: 6,256 | rating: T | Jongeorgie - precanon )

That’s when she notices what he has in his lap: a whole entire cat, sprawled across his legs like they’re its rightful throne. The man’s hands are buried in its fur, and Georgie finds herself smirking at the man just a bit as she realizes that she’s found the person who sneaks away from the party to go and cuddle the house pet instead. There’s always one. Hell, she’s done that herself more than once.

“I was just-- I got lost! While looking for the bathroom,” he says all in a defensive rush. He literally looks off to the side like a shamefaced kid, a guilty look flashing over his face as he, almost absolutely for one hundred percent of a fact, lies to her.

“I see,” she says. “Do you want for me to show you where it is?”

“N-- no, no thank you. That’s alright. I’ll manage on my own.”

“Okay,” she says.

She stands there. He stays crouched there on the floor, clearly trying not to fidget. She doesn’t make any move to leave. Neither does he. He looks at her, looking so uncomfortable that it almost resembles pain.

“... I don’t want to move her,” he finally admits sheepishly. One of his hands smooths over the cat in his lap, and she gives an approving purr.

Ethical Consumption by paperdream (words: 1,461 | rating: G | Jonmartin)

Peter Lukas, falling off the wagon, and what it means to keep on living.

Love in the Modern Workplace, or How to Fill Out Form 54a: A specific romantic liaison ("date") between two (2) coworkers within one (1) department by shinyopals (words: 22,264 | rating: T | Jonmartin)

I've noticed, that, ah, maybe, you- you don't, ah, hate me,' Jon says at last. There is a lengthy silence. 'Um,' says Martin at last. 'No I- I don't- I don't hate you? Is that a- a- problem?'

After returning from America, Jon shoots his shot. It goes... surprisingly well, given that it's him.

Unfortunately there's also the matter of the Magnus Institute Employee Code Of Conduct Rules Regarding Romantic Relationships Between Employees, and all of the supplementary paperwork that needs to be filled in every time they go on a date.

The Torment Of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth (words: 1,055 | rating: G | Gen )

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again.

Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

It Just Begins To Live by cuttooth (words: 1,874 | rating: T | Jonmartin)

There is an ink-dark scrawl along the back of Martin’s calf that reads:

You didn’t die here, did you?

*

These are the words that change your life.

Apotheosis by paperdream (words: 2,873 | rating: T | Jonelias | Major Character Death, dark themes)

With Jon in the Panopticon and Martin dead, Elias only has to give him time before the Archive is willingly his in every way that matters.

A Lonely Cabin by voiceless_terror (words: 1,312 | rating: G | Jonmartin)

“Love, Tim...Tim’s not here. You know that, right?” Jon’s brow furrows and those cloudy, unseeing eyes don’t blink.

Martin manages to interrupt Jonah's ritual. This is not without its consequences.

Auspex by faridsgwi (Series | Rating: T | Includes Jonmartin)

In 1841, Jonah Magnus moved his Institute to London and established an Archive. Not a paper and ink archive: a human witness, a beholder.

Jon Sims, in 1849, tries to balance pleasing his master, feeding the Eye, and keeping his assistants safe.

kill you in the morning by screechfox (words: 3,650 | rating: M | Jonelias | Major Character Death, dark themes)

Helen is true to her word: she keeps Jon in her corridors until everyone he knows is dead. Well, almost everyone. Elias cleans up in the aftermath.

flour, sugar, salt by bluejayblueskies (words: 3,668 | rating: G | Jonmartin)

It had gone like this:

They’d been sitting on the couch, the flames of the fire licking at the brick edges of the fireplace as it eagerly consumed the new wood Martin had topped it off with just minutes earlier. The moment Martin had settled back onto the couch, Jon had resumed his position curled into his side, breathing a small sigh of satisfaction as warmth began to radiate throughout his body once again.

“Tell me something,” Jon said, leaning his head against the curve of Martin’s shoulder.

After a moment, Martin laced their fingers together and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ve never had a birthday cake.”

----

Jon’s never baked before, but how much harder than cooking can it possibly be?

Things do not go well.

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7 / Part 8 / Part 9 / Part 10

[soveryanon]

Reviewing time for MAG179! TTwwwwwTT

- That was such a short statement! As far as Desolation goes, this one really reminded me of MAG107 for the fear of losing what and who’s precious to you (“What part of his life would he have to burn then? What thing he loved would he have to hurl into the flames? The apprehension is as familiar to him as the scent of burning hair. He knows what it means to wait, and see what he has lost.”), having to contribute to that loss, and the loss being always followed by another loss. I really like how it managed to develop its own implacable rhythm through the cycles of repetition becoming shorter and shorter: the succession of losses, the litany of “I got you”, “he had Colin’s back”/“Derek has his back”, “The first time”/“The second time”/“The third time”… stopping with Daisy’s irruption. It really felt like she was breaking an implacable series of routines – though by inflicting worse. I like how Derek and Colin’s relationship managed to indeed feel so deep, intricate and complicated in such a few lines – with the fact that Colin had helped Derek on so many occasions, including to ensure the disappearance of his father’s body (killed in self-defence while he was being abusive?), and… that gratefulness slowly becoming a burden dragging Derek down (taking Colin’s defence, taking the blame for him, losing more and more, sinking and being pushed even deeper by the “bored cop” – Daisy? – who just made things worse because they could). Their relationship being an anchor in both senses: the help to get out of a situation, and the thing pulling you down. It was already evoking Daisy and Basira’s partnership, already reminding us of Daisy’s crimes, and already indirectly coming for Basira’s throat.

It’s interesting that in this domain, Derek never seemed to have the certainty of the identity of the corpses or items he was incinerating? He worried about Tilly when seeing the toys, but it was not stated whether they were hers, and, in the same way, the corpse was never said to be Colin’s (“Derek doesn’t know the man who lies in the cart, lifeless eyes staring at him from a head split in two by a careless shovel-blow”) although it triggered the memories. Given how concrete Derek’s (life)story sounded before getting trapped in this domain (… which seems to be: the furnace of the junkyard where Colin worked, where the body of Derek’s father disappeared), down to his brush with the police, I wonder if these memories were fabricated by the Domain, or if some bits were genuine bits from his past life? We’ve seen some doubt flickering about whether or not Mehreen really had a family in the Vast domain (MAG174), it could be another case of the Fears creating memories to squeeze the most of their victims… but with Derek, we do have the certainty that he had encountered Daisy before the Change and that she had felt that he had “got away”, since she was hunting him…

(I also got hit by the realisation that… this might be the last Desolation statement/story we ever get in the series; 14-15 Fears means that statistically, each would get 2 to 3 statements per season. We might still get another Something related to the Desolation before the end of the show, about Agnes and/or Hill Top Road and/or the Web lighter and/or the fact that Web seems weak to Desolation and/or about the recurring motif of burning down the Archives… but this could have been the last one. It’s even likelier that we won’t get any more Flesh statement/domain after MAG178’s, and I had not realised when that one aired. It’s weird to think “this might be the last time we hear about x”, since the end of the series is approaching?)

- I’m still wondering about the “death” status:

(MAG177) BASIRA: She’s been killing. MARTIN: What? No – no, that can’t be right. I–I thought people weren’t even allowed to die any more. ARCHIVIST: Not permanently, but, uh… Ah.

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: “… Another victim. Another hunt. The pain and terror courses through him. Derek is still aware as she toys with him, pulls bits from his torso and chews them with a hundred sharpened teeth. He is aware, though not, perhaps, alive.”

We’ve seen her butcher this corpse (and she had been awful with the previous ones, too) – are they meant to respawn? To remain stuck in this state, technically “aware” without being alive? (Though: “aware, though not, perhaps, alive” might be a definition which could apply to… everyone trapped in the domains.)

- Still that thing about the sounds, when Jon gives his statements! It’s naturally been growing stronger: he creates his own soundscape when giving a statement, illustrating the main’s victim surroundings… and that soundscape fades away as soon as Jon is done. Is that a new power developing…? Is it because of dream logic, an extension of his role as a sort of story-teller (he’s supposed to make his audience imagine the sounds, and yet the sounds come to illustrate what he’s saying)…? This one was especially curious because we heard Daisy, who was… currently tearing into a body nearby (but not in the same room as Jon), as if she was present.

- AHAHA.

(MAG179) BASIRA: She’s here, then? ARCHIVIST: [SURPRISED] Basira? I… I–I didn’t hear you, uh… BASIRA: No. I figured you wouldn’t when you were… busy.

It sure feels like something screaming “JON HAS A WEAKNESS, AND IT MIGHT BE USED AGAINST HIM SOON”, in the same way as Annabelle highlighting that Jon was now forced to read a statement until its end once he had begun was followed by Jonah using that trick for his ritual ;; We’ve already seen this at work, how Martin had trouble shaking Jon off from giving a statement, in Jude’s domain; since the episode ended with Jon and Martin going off on their own again… Big Fear that at some point, Jon will come back to his surroundings to discover that Martin is just… gone.

After MAG170 (Martin getting lost in the Lonely house), it looked like Jon and Martin were a bit more cautious about getting separated in domains: instead of leaving Jon completely alone, Martin had stayed quite close or right next to him in a few instances (MAG171, MAG176, and MAG172 although Martin ended up wandering off). In the last two episodes, Basira had initially stayed with Martin: was it an additional security for Jon? I wonder what they’ll go back to, starting next episode – if Martin will stay close, or if they’ll go back to Jon doing his thing in his corner.

- ;________; Basira and Jon’s bantering felt… so nice?

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: I thought you were keeping watch. BASIRA: I was. Watched you sneak away. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. BASIRA: You apologise too much. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Martin says the same thing…! BASIRA: [CHUCKLING] Like he’s any better!

They felt like they genuinely liked each other again, were able to share things, even with dry teasing? It didn’t feel like Basira was trying to insult him, but rather that they shared the same sense of humour, here and there…

Jon’s FONDNESS when he explained that Martin tells him the same thing still kills me. AND TO BE FAIR, yeah, this season, Jon and Martin have the tendency to spontaneously say “sorry” for various things… a lot. And sometimes, it’s genuine and important “sorry”, or them apologising for something unpleasant they’re doing! But both Jon and Martin do say it a lot. (And displayed it in this episode, even! Martin apologising over Jon’s leg when performing first aid, Jon once again telling Basira that he couldn’t do anything for Daisy, and that he was “sorry” over what had to happen…)

- I really felt like Jon… wanted to spare Basira a bit, by not forcing her to face what Daisy had done to this victim. Is it because Basira had already agreed to look in the previous two cases, and was now ready to kill her? Because Jon’s point had come across, and that he didn’t want to kick Basira while she was already down and there was no need anymore? He had been way harsher towards her in the previous episode:

(MAG177) MARTIN: Wait. Wait, so… so, she’s hunting down criminals? People who she… thinks got away with stuff? BASIRA: … Sure. ARCHIVIST: Really? As simple as that? BASIRA: What’s your point? ARCHIVIST: What, you think he ended up in Wonderland House at random? We’re just going to ignore it, and write him off as a “nasty piece of work”? BASIRA: We don’t have time for this. ARCHIVIST: Then we should make time. You want to hear how he ended up blinding that man? Because it wasn’t a robbery. He was running away from Daisy, lashing out in a panic. The court believed it. But you believed her… BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t. But you can’t hunt a monster that you refuse to see.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Recognise her… BASIRA: … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST: That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction, we can’t… move on until you do. […] I told you before, we can’t hunt a monster you refuse to see.

(MAG179) BASIRA: … Why didn’t you want me to hear this one? ARCHIVIST: What? BASIRA: You weren’t this cagey about the other ones, meaning you wanted to keep this one secret. ARCHIVIST: U–uhh… Hum… BASIRA: Because this one was Daisy’s victim? ARCHIVIST: … Yes. BASIRA: … Didn’t think you knew what the statement was going to be before it happened? ARCHIVIST: I just had a sense of it. BASIRA: So… what? You thought I’d hear he was a murderer and I’d agree with her? Maybe I’d figure she was doing the apocalypse a favour by taking him out? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know what I thought. BASIRA: Sure. ARCHIVIST: I don’t know, alright! I was… I was worried that if you listened, it might feel like an accusation. A–after everything we’ve already talked about, I–I mean… What good would it do for you to hear? What’s in this one that you don’t already know? People have their reasons for doing wrong? The system hurts everyone? … Just seemed kind of… pointless. BASIRA: Yeah. I guess. ARCHIVIST: [SELF-DEPRECATIVE SCOFF] Honestly, I just wanted to avoid this conversation. […] So… You did hear it, then? BASIRA: Yeah. ARCHIVIST: What, uh… What did you think? Did it… help? BASIRA: With what? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know…! BASIRA: … Me neither.

* So Jon is able to get a sense of what the domain’s statement will be about, before he even starts? Previously, he had known that they were in “Wonderland House” before beginning his statement, but I had the impression he mostly knew what the domain was about – not about… specific victims. It reminds me of what Annabelle had said about him regarding the written statements (MAG147: “I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…?”), and how he had known about the overall subject of Floyd Matharu’s statement before hearing it. Martin only recently called what Jon has been doing in season 5 “make a statement”, and I really wonder if we’ll learn… what Jon is doing exactly, through those, when he overloads and needs to put the stories into words…

* Small things, here and there: in the previous episode, Basira had agreed to open up, had asked Jon for confirmations, had acknowledged that Jon knew the way towards Daisy and that she had to follow him. I like how nuanced it was, from Jon to want to hide this statement from Basira, that he didn’t want to feel like he was “accusing” her by insisting on things Basira had now understood? And how Basira still wants to know why he would do this – is it condescending, is it coming from a place of sympathy, from absolute awkwardness? (And there is something so fragile and precious in the fact that on the one hand, Jon might have wanted to protect Basira from this one; and on the other hand, Basira wanted to know why he would hide from her… but didn’t jump to his throat about it, and mostly wanted to know why?)

* Tiny progress on Jon’s part? Hearing him acknowledge that he didn’t really know his own reasons for wanting to hide this statement from Basira, and that not being treated like a big deal… seems like a tiny step, compared to his Web paranoia from season 4, when Jon was agonising over Beholding and The Web influencing his actions? Doing something and not knowing why, or rationalising afterwards, would usually be pinned on The Web, but it seems like Jon went back to treat it as something natural, that doesn’t need to be inspected further.

* I like how it really feels like Basira isn’t trying to flee anymore? Just… takes it all in, and accepts that Daisy had wronged someone else.

- Aouch, about the mention of the kidnappings ;_;

(MAG179) BASIRA: Should’ve been sneakier, then. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … Never been my strong suit, has it? BASIRA: How many times have you been kidnapped at this point? ARCHIVIST: That depends if you– … Hm. BASIRA: … Say it. ARCHIVIST: Depends if you count Daisy. [TENSION & BREATHING]

… Because Basira already knew the answer, and used to be much more callous and mean about it in front of Jon:

(MAG133) ARCHIVIST: Look, I’ve… been where you are. BASIRA: Have you? ARCHIVIST: Yes, I have. Like you’re the only one responsible for everyone, the weight of all their lives on your shoulders: it leads to bad decisions. BASIRA: Yeah, well. When I get myself kidnapped three times in a row, maybe I’ll look to you for advice.

But this episode came after Jon explained how genuinely traumatising Daisy’s kidnapping had been… So it was a bittersweet example of light-hearted banter (Jon and Basira weren’t aggressive! They were joking with each other!) quickly turning sour, accidentally.

- Martin’s Life Is Hard And No One Understands:

(MAG179) [RUNNING FOOTSTEPS ON GRAVEL, APPROACHING] MARTIN: [SLIGHTLY BREATHLESS] Hey-hey! Hey, she’s– she’s, she’s here! [PANTS] BASIRA: What, what? Now? MARTIN: Yeah–yeah, she just… she just tore into a guy, it was…! [SHAKEN] He was, oh, urgh… ARCHIVIST: Yes, we–we understand, Martin.

… Martin found ANOTHER corpse. Gertrude, Leitner, what’s-left-of-Jonah-though-not-technically-a-corpse-since-Martin-was-supposed-to-kill-him, Noah Thomson in MAG177, now this one… Martin, you corpse-magnet.

- Was it Derek’s, since Jon had just given the statement ending with Daisy tearing into him? Did Jon narrate it as it was happening? There is something very curious about the fact that Daisy could interact with both the domains’ victims and our little group – since she ended up injuring Jon, and was shot by Basira. We also got this with Trevor (who was “prey”, but still shot by Basira, who didn’t belong to that domain). Is it a characteristic of Hunters, able to go through the lines in the same way that they had the ability to kill avatars, before the Change? Martin did collide into people/projections last episode (and apologised for it), so it seems like they can interact with victims and not only avatars in the domains, and I wonder if Jon’s power might help them at some point…

- SOB that Daisy’s hunt was not solely about killing the people she labelled as “criminals who got away”. It was about desecrating them, making it as painful as possible (they’re “aware” of what is happening), and… consumption? (She had gotten thinner and had trouble eating towards the end of season 4, is that an echo of it, a way of trying to compensate…?)

- Second gigantic red flag of the episode:

(MAG179) BASIRA: You didn’t think this was worth mentioning!? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t notice, I was talking to you! BASIRA: Fine, whatever.

… The fact that Jon can get distracted and miss information about his surroundings when he’s focusing on something else. It’s extremely Elias-like (it’s how the Archives team had taken him down in season 3), and absolutely feels like something that could get used against Jon at some point…

- I missed Daisy so much, and the first time we hear her live again, she’s reintroduced through the sounds of her EATING THE CORPSE OF SOMEONE SHE JUST KILLED. Cries cries cries.

(Poor Martin: he was audibly upset by the carnage. Too close to Flesh? I remember how Jon had mentioned that he had trouble looking at pictures, in MAG072’s post-statement.)

- Martin’s small interruption made me wonder…

(MAG179) MARTIN: [SUDDEN GASP] [A WOODEN POLE FALLS OVER] [DAISY PAUSES, SNIFFS THE AIR, THEN RESUMES CONSUMPTION] BASIRA: [HUSHED, ANGRY] The hell was that!? MARTIN: Sorry! Sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry! ARCHIVIST: What happened? MARTIN: I–I thought you were about to fire! BASIRA: So you gasped just in case? MARTIN: Look, it’s a tense situation alright? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I’m not a sniper! BASIRA: Goddamnit!

… if this wasn’t him trying to sabotage the operation because he didn’t want Daisy to die ;_; Though I can absolutely believe that he really just… gasped in advance, because he was too tense. (Also, I LIVE for Martin’s rants about how he’s not equipped to face this kind of stuff.)

… However, meanwhile, Jon was… definitely trying to delay the inevitable:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: [HUSHED] Is this a good enough angle? We can try and sneak round to the other side of the furnaces. But… then the smoke wouldn’t cover us– BASIRA: It’s fine. Shut up. I just need to focus. ARCHIVIST: … Alright. […] Basira, are you sure you’re up to this? It doesn’t need to be right now. W–we can always… back off, regroup, w–wait for a better situation, one where she isn’t… elbow deep in some poor sod’s corpse. BASIRA: Don’t do that. ARCHIVIST: … Sorry. MARTIN: What am I missing here? BASIRA: He knows, as well as I do, that the only reason we’re even able to get this close is because she’s busy with a kill. There isn’t going to be a better opportunity. MARTIN: … Now or never then. BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

I didn’t feel like Jon thought that Basira wasn’t ready, or that the sight was too unsettling for him to bear… but more like it was Jon himself who wasn’t ready for Daisy to be killed, and didn’t want to admit it? While as for Basira, she clearly had progressed towards that resolution:

(MAG164) MARTIN: What’s Basira going to do? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: She… thinks she’s going to kill Daisy. Like she promised. [STATIC DECREASES] But she’s conflicted. MARTIN: And will she? ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know, th–the future, th–that’s… that’s not something I can see.

(MAG178) BASIRA: [QUIET] … I really am going to have to kill her, aren’t I? ARCHIVIST: There’s no way to bring her back. Not any more. At this point, if I tried to take away her fear… it would destroy her anyway. BASIRA: Am I even going to be able to? ARCHIVIST: Yes. BASIRA: And she stays dead? ARCHIVIST: In this case… yes.

(MAG179) BASIRA: Yeah. I made her a promise. ARCHIVIST: You need to be certain. BASIRA: I am.

(I’m also proud of Martin for immediately asking for clarifications when he was lacking information! … Well, wasn’t exactly the moment to ask, but it’s good that he pointed out, right away, that he was out of the loop. Audience surrogate in action.)

- I lovelovelove TMA’s ability to give tension and also deliver the silliest scenes, while saying so much about its characters:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Uh… BASIRA: Yeah, Jon. It is. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys, guys… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it. MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: Look. I know it’s hard, and you have your reasons– MARTIN (BACKGROUND): Guys… ARCHIVIST: –but it is not my fault that you can’t bring yourself– MARTIN: [EXASPERATED, HUSHED] Shut up! Both of you! BASIRA: What? MARTIN: She’s gone! ARCHIVIST: Wait, what? … Oh. Oh no…

* It’s being hammered in pretty heavily that Jon is not looking in Basira’s or Martin’s heads.

* OUFT, Basira was absolutely on edge and it showed: she went back to one of her regular accusations regarding Jon’s powers, dating from season 4… with the same unfairness. Back then, Jon wasn’t really able to control his bits of Knowing; it’s not that he has “decided” to respect people’s privacy nowadays, it’s just that he couldn’t really do that back then, and is doing his best to do it now that he can.

* … And it says so much about Basira that she immediately assumes that someone with power would casually abuse it… given her own relationship with Daisy, and what Daisy used to do, who she used to be.

* I live for Basira’s pet names:

(MAG140) BASIRA: By this point, I just assume the Eyeball tells you.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I told you, I know everything now, more or less. I can see her. With my, uh… BASIRA: … Magic horrorvision? ARCHIVIST: Sure.

(MAG179) BASIRA: If you have something you want to say god-boy, just say it.

* IT REMINDED ME OF ONE OF MY FAVOURITE SCENES!!!

(MAG113) ARCHIVIST: M–Martin! Stop trying to touch the plastic explosive! MARTIN: Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. MELANIE: Guys… ARCHIVIST: Just put your hands in your pockets, or… something… MARTIN: Look, I said, I said I’m sorry… MELANIE: Guys! ARCHIVIST & MARTIN: What?

Team Archive, a bunch of adorable idiots.

* It was suuuuuch a cliché scene and I loved it to pieces, with special *chef kiss* to the sound of Daisy’s meal stopping, and Martin’s hushed outburst <3

- Overall, I really love how the scene was… almost underwhelming? It was messy and awkward, it wasn’t heroic and grand, it wasn't an iconic showdown with a mythical creature. It was mundane, didn’t even feel supernatural? Just… a big dog having grabbed Jon and not letting him go, and how it was affecting characters – Jon being in pain, Martin in absolute anguish over Jon, Basira still trying, a few last times, to pull Daisy back to reason.

- Oh, Martin… the fact that his reflex was still to worry for Jon and Jon’s safety:

(MAG179) MARTIN: Let him go! BASIRA: Get out the way! ARCHIVIST: Take the shot! MARTIN: No, you’ll hit Jon! ARCHIVIST: Uh, take the shot Basira! … Uh… [STRONGER GROWLS] Basira! Do it! MARTIN: Don’t!

… even though Jon is the least likely to get permanent damage from anything, and this was their only opportunity? Martin ;_;

- Crying a LOT all through it about… Basira’s attempts to bring Daisy back, although she had discussed the theory already (that Jon couldn’t do anything, that she would have to kill her, that Daisy was “happy” in her current state). But it was more difficult to apply in practice, and it’s heartbreaking that Basira couldn’t help but hope that a positive outcome was still possible:

(MAG179) BASIRA: Daisy, stop! Please. ARCHIVIST: [WHIMPER] [DAISY’S SPEECH IS LOW AND GUTTURAL, EXPRESSED WITH DIFFICULTY THROUGH A JAW UNFAMILIAR TO HUMAN WORDS – SOME CONSONANTS ELONGATED, SOME VOWELS SLURRED] DAISY: [AROUND A MOUTHFUL OF ARCHIVIST] … Basiraaa? BASIRA: Oh, god. Daisy… […] She knows who I am! She recognises me. MARTIN: B–Basira! BASIRA: Daisy, come back to us. You can come back. Please… […] Daisy, please… Jon, can you… Can you do anything? DAISY: Basiiira… ARCHIVIST: [BREATHLESS] I’m sorry, I told you, she’s… she’s too deep. I can’t do anything, not without killing her…! BASIRA: [PLEADINGLY] Daisy. It’s me. Come on, please…

And I HATE THAT I COULDN’T HELP BUT HOPE, TOO, GDI!!! Because Daisy was still listening (in a way) to what Basira was saying, since she released Jon, and since we had cases where it had been possible to bring someone back from the clutch of a Fear (Jon had managed to save Martin from The Lonely by making him “see” him, after all), so I couldn’t help but hope for something of the same kind… even though Daisy had been involved in The Hunt for almost her entire life, and had warned that returning to it would mean her end, and that Jon had explained in the previous episode that no, he couldn’t do anything to save her ;_;

- Crying about how even before Basira explained what Daisy was offering, there was a double-meaning in what she was saying:

(MAG179) DAISY: Basiraaa… C–come… Come on… BASIRA: … What? DAISY: Come. Got to… get them! […] DAISY: Partner. C–come. [STATIC RISES, FAINTLY] BASIRA: … Oh. I see. MARTIN: What? BASIRA: She… She wants me to join her. In the Hunt. MARTIN: What…? Could… Is that even possible? BASIRA: … Yes. I can… feel it. In the blood. ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Basira…

Was it “Come on” as in “fulfil your promise and kill me”, or “come to me / kill them with me”? AND IT WAS THE SECOND ONE, GODSDAMNIT!!

- Extremely curious about Basira’s static: was it a trace of Beholding allowing her to know? Was it the call of The Hunt? Did it only happen because of Daisy and Basira’s connection? Did it only happen because they were each other’s “anchor”, in a very twisted and bittersweet way (just like Colin&Derek in the statement, the thing stabilising and saving you… and the think that can also drag you down and under)?

I’m not surprised that Basira had the potential in her to answer the call of The Hunt (down to hearing the Blood): she behaved like a Hunter in season 4 especially, and was on Daisy’s trail for all of this season, after all. But I’m sobbing about how instead of saving Daisy, the other possible outcome would have been for Basira to fall into The Hunt’s clutch, too – that until the end, there was still this echo of Basira and Daisy being “partners”, being identified as such by everyone:

(MAG082) MARTIN: I… I’m making a statement. Isn’t that what you want? My statement? DAISY: No. I just need you to answer the question. MARTIN: Oh. Okay. I mean, y–you wanted a statement last time. About… it was… when I found Gertrude. Or at least your partner did. […] ELIAS: And then they don’t ask any questions, as long as you keep it far away from official police channels. Except your partner leaving has made you sloppy. No notes, no proper interrogations, no back-up of any sort.

(MAG088) MARTIN: Well, I’m sure your partner will find him; I just hope she’s not as– BASIRA: No, I need to find him now! You’re sure you don’t know where she is?

(MAG092) ELIAS: She’s quite the killer, your partner. All in the public good, of course.

(MAG112) BASIRA: How about you? DAISY: Elias is… keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. [FALTERS] I’m used to working… with a partner. … It’s fine. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: It’s fine. BASIRA: Right. … But it’s not, though, is it? […] DAISY: Fine. … Maybe you could ask Elias if you can join me on a case?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: I think Basira is the same, she’s coming along to back-up Daisy, or so she says. I–I, I don't quite get those two, I suppose. What they’ve done, seeing what they’ve seen… It’s a hell of a bond. The sort of thing I’ve mostly done alone. […] BASIRA: But at least Daisy’s coming along. I mean… I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But… she’s solid. She’s a fixed point. And if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing relative to her. She has no doubts. We go in, we plant bombs, we leave we blow it all to hell. Or, we die. I don’t think I’ll ever have clarity like that. Despite everything she’s done, she’s… she’s still the best partner I ever had.

(MAG142) DAISY: When Basira and I were partners, I’d see this happen sometimes. She can read a… situation like no one I know, always seems to know the right move, but for all her research, she never wants to put a plan together. I think she just hates all the unknowns, the… variables. [SIGH] Contingencies. If she spots an advantage, she’ll… grab it, and trust herself to figure out the details as she goes.

… but in the negative way. When it comes to Basira&Daisy as a relationship, there is something extremely sad in the fact that they never managed to have the willingness to improve and “be better” at the same time: Daisy did it in season 4, when Basira was too obsessed with trying to compensate for her powerlessness and refused to hold Daisy accountable for her past actions; and Basira did it, early in her police career when she first thought about quitting, and in season 5 when she finally acknowledged the damage she had caused or allowed to be caused, when it was too late for Daisy.

I wonder if Daisy, as a beast, wasn’t a concentration of her most toxic traits? We know that she was punishing people whom she identified (pre-Coffin) as criminals that had gotten away. Her last attempt to drag Basira with her in this Hunt really feels… like a last attempt to get back the relationship they had as colleagues and partners? She had mentioned that she missed working with Basira, in season 3 (to the point of considering asking Elias to allow them to work on a case together)…

- ;_; Goodbye, Daisy…

(MAG179) BASIRA: I can’t leave her like this, she’s… always had my back. Always. MARTIN: Basira, don’t, please… DAISY: Partner… Come… [MORE FOOTSTEPS] BASIRA: … Not now. Not after everything. DAISY: [IMPATIENT] Basira, now! BASIRA: I… can’t…! DAISY: Basira! [GUNSHOT] [SNARLING] [TWO MORE GUNSHOTS] [DAISY COLLAPSES, DEAD] [THE DISTANT RUMBLE OF MACHINERY CONTINUES] [SILENCE BUT FOR BREATHS] MARTIN: … Basira, I– BASIRA: Shut up. MARTIN: … I’m sorry, I–I know– BASIRA: [DANGEROUSLY] Shut. Up.

* Same as with Daisy’s “Come on”, I got that doubt about whether was Basira’s “I can’t” meant “I can’t kill her”, or “I can’t join her in The Hunt”…

* Basira’s “she’s always had my back” HURT A LOT after Derek’s statement (“When the police came hassling them, he had Colin’s back. When some little dipshit didn’t show the proper respect, he had Colin’s back. When Colin needed someone by his side for a smash and grab, Derek had his back.”)… but it also demonstrated the difference, beautifully: the fact that Basira was now able to say Stop and No when it was going too far, the fact that she refused to keep being complicit.

* Basira rejecting The Hunt felt, to me, like Martin rejecting The Lonely in the house? They had the opportunity to take an “easier” path, less painful, allowing them to forget about the hurt they had suffered… and chose differently.

- Basira shot once, then twice.

So three shots in total.

Was it Alex’s audio revenge for the “Turns out Gertrude was too much of a badass to die from just a single gunshot” debacle. (=> Three bullets in total, but only one at first, and the other two happened, uh, at some point off-tape.)

- Martin exploding the Swear Budget and taking the lead this season if you don’t count per episode but per occurrences! /o/

(MAG179) BASIRA: I… Sure, just… let him go. [LOW SNARL FROM DAISY, THEN RELEASES THE ARCHIVIST] ARCHIVIST: [COLLAPSES WITH A GRUNT] MARTIN: Oh, Jon! Oh shit, shit–shit–shit! Okay, okay, okay, I’ve got you, I’ve got you. [MARTIN BEGINS FIRST AID] ARCHIVIST: Ah, ah, ah…! MARTIN: I’m sorry! Sorry! Sorry, you j–, you need to keep pressure on that leg while I, I sort this, hum…

(SOB ABOUT MARTIN’S “I got you”… also paralleling Colin&Derek (“I got you.” That’s what Colin had always said to him when they were kids. And he had always meant it. When Derek needed somewhere to stay when his dad was on the warpath: “I got you.” When Derek needed a little something to take the edge off: “I got you.” When the lifeless body of Derek’s father lay at the bottom of the stairs, limbs folded around the cricket bat he had hit him with: “I got you.”) On so many levels, it really feels like relationships can so easily become twisted and mutually toxic, or pushing people towards worse; the main difference we saw with Jon and Martin is that, meanwhile, they’ve actively communicated and tried to be better for each other, and navigate around principles, but it feels so easy to tip over the line…)

- Crying over Basira hours:

* It was a Desolation domain; the case that got her Sectioned (which stopped her from resigning when she had been thinking about it, and reinforced her ties with Daisy) had been a Desolation incident. (MAG043) Talking about loss, and Basira closing a chapter…

* … The event that directly led her to signing away her freedom to the Institute had been her saving Jon from Daisy (MAG091). When they reunited, out of anger, she said that she regretted having saved Jon back then (MAG177: “I should’ve known, I… I should’ve just let Daisy take you out at the start.”), and yet… she saved him from Daisy once again. This time by killing her.

- CRYING OVER JON HOURS:

(MAG179) ARCHIVIST: Is it… Is it awful that I wish she’d recognised me? MARTIN: Daisy? ARCHIVIST: Yeah. I mean, she was… We were friends there, sort of, near the end. We went through so much and it just… I wish I could have actually said goodbye. MARTIN: Would it have made you feel any better about any of it? ARCHIVIST: I don’t know. Maybe? It’s hard to know how I feel about… anything these days. [SILENCE] MARTIN: We said our goodbyes to Daisy after the institute. This was just… This was just dealing with all the stuff she left behind. ARCHIVIST: … I suppose.

… I’m not so sure that she hadn’t recognised him. Amongst the three of them, it’s him that Daisy… so she might have been identifying him as “prey/criminal/monster who got away”… ;_;

I’m glad (AND SAD) that Jon acknowledged the fact that they had grown close in season 4, THAT THEY WERE “FRIENDS”, and heartbroken that he… is indeed hit by the lack of closure.

But what about Basira? True, Daisy “recognised” her, but it was… to try and drag her along into her monstrous life. As far as last words go, Basira did get a kind of goodbye, however:

(MAG158) DAISY: [PANTING] Mm, Basira… When this is over, you need to find me… and kill me. Promise me. BASIRA: No. No, Daisy, we’ll figure something out! NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] You can’t hide forever, Jon. DAISY: [PANTING] These last months, I… it was always borrowed time. Can’t outrun it forever. BASIRA: Daisy… DAISY: [PANTING] Promise me. BASIRA: … I promise. DAISY: Thanks. [BREATHLESS] Now, run…! BASIRA: Daisy…! DAISY: [GROWLING] Run!

Compared to Jon:

(MAG158) ARCHIVIST: What…? No! I– BASIRA: Don’t argue, just go. NOT!SASHA: [IN THE DISTANCE] Jooo–oooon~? ARCHIVIST: … Fine. Just don’t die. DAISY: Go.

… Or even worse, Martin:

(MAG144) MARTIN: Just leave. DAISY: Sorry? MARTIN: [INHALE] Get out. DAISY: Oh. Right. Sorry, I didn’t– MARTIN: It’s not difficult! Just get out! DAISY: Fine. … Fine. Just thought you– MARTIN: No! No, you didn’t! [DOOR OPENS] We’re not… we’re not friends, Daisy! None of us are! We’re all just trapped together, here, and–and kidding ourselves that we don’t hate it! Christ, there are more important things than, than “feelings”– DAISY: [INCREDULOUS EXHALE] MARTIN: –right now, all right, so just… leave me alone! For good! [SILENCE PUNCTUATED BY AGGRESSIVE WRITING] DAISY: … Right. You got it.

I mean. Martin and Daisy only had One Good ConversationTM, but Martin. Martin, please. It was blatantly to protect Daisy from Peter, but your last words to her had basically been telling her to fork off. 

- I feel like Martin might be trying to compartmentalise now but about to shatter soon, because… he had mentioned being happy at the prospect of “helping” their “friends” back in MAG175. I agree that in Daisy’s case, helping and leading Basira to fulfil her promise was the best they could hope for, but it’s still… absolutely grim. Since they left the cabin, they’ve not helped victims, not even children, they’ve discovered that Jon’s powers were incredibly powerful but also making him “worse”, they’ve helped Basira to kill Daisy and… that’s it. Jon had told Martin that there was no “better” in this world, and it’s hard to disagree, with how things are right now.

Is Martin still firmly believing that the Institute will be different, that they can do something to help? Or will he grow a bit more desperate? Susceptible to Annabelle’s call, or to try to contact her to accept her “help” because he feels like their options are dwindling…?

- Oh, about Jon getting patched up…

(MAG179) [A BAG IS UNZIPPED] MARTIN: Come on. I need to patch that leg up properly, the last thing we need is a limp slowing us down. ARCHIVIST: [GRUNTS AND GASPS] MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. ARCHIVIST: [DISTRACTED] Hmm? No, they’re, they’re fine. MARTIN: I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…! ARCHIVIST: [DRY CHUCKLE]

* ;_; Parallel to their first “heart-to-heart talk”, in MAG039: when Jon had been wormed, specifically in his leg, and Sasha and Martin took care of it…

* Martin remembers the not!tea from the trailer, uh. (He was also the only one to read a statement involving snakes-like spooky creatures!)

* … Martin, that’s a lot of thread-like things you’re carrying or mentioning this season:

(MAG162) MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps.

(MAG178) MARTIN: … Yeah. I guess. [INHALE, EXPLOSIVE EXHALE] God, I hate all of these… loose ends…! ARCHIVIST: I’m sorry. MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG179) MARTIN: Of course, that’s assuming the bandages haven’t transformed into snakes or something. […] I’d forgotten we had them to be honest. I packed them before I realised what a celebrity you were out here…!

This is how Web!Martin can still w-

(Though, genuinely, I’m a bit… suspicious that Martin hadn’t mentioned them until now and had “forgotten” he had them, and that Jon was ~distracted~ when he was talking about them? Had Martin really packed them before they left the cabin, or is that something he packed later during the journey, without noticing, such as when he was in the Web domain…?)

- THIRD big red flag regarding Jon’s powers in the episode:

(MAG179) MARTIN: I, I was starting to think I’d never need them. I’m surprised she could hurt you at all…! ARCHIVIST: Yes, that… came as a bit of a shock to me as well, actually…! MARTIN: You didn’t know? ARCHIVIST: I didn’t think to check, just, sort of… assumed it was safe. MARTIN: That’s a pretty big assumption, Jon! ARCHIVIST: Hmm, apparently. I mean, I know it sounds strange but it… it… felt right for Daisy to be able to hurt me. MARTIN: Dream logic again? ARCHIVIST: Mmm. The… “resonances” from our relationship before the Change carried over and– Ah! Ah…! MARTIN: Hold still.

… A clear limitation in his pseudo-omniscience/all-knowledge is that he can… still assume (incorrect) things. That’s pretty big, as far as his knowledge goes: this means he has to actively think about checking things before they happen. What more may have gone under his radar already…?

* I’m not sure specifically why Daisy was able to hurt him. Jon had explained that:

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: No one gets what they deserve. Not in this place. They just get whatever hurts them the most! … Even me.

Was it because she had hurt him so deeply in the forest, reviving that pain? Was it because they used to be friends, and Jon knew he was going to lose her, and only people Jon cares about can hurt him? Was it because of the mix of trauma&friendship, specific to her, that Daisy was bring with her?

* SOB over the fact that Daisy hurt him AGAIN… and had given him his Hunt mark in the forest… It wasn’t the first time they had interacted, but…

* Given the amount of things that run on dream-logic, and given how the Fears interact with their victims, it really feels like humans are both subjected to the Fears and shaping the world, themselves? I wonder if they’ll get some agency back through “feels right” logic, or if even that would get denied since, well, the Dread Powers work through pain and suffering, not… to help in anything.

* … Martin, please, was it accidental or did you squeeze hard because Jon was mentioning having an Important Relationship with someone else. (MARTIN BLEASE…)

- ;_; I’m not extremely surprised by Basira closing up and needing to do her mourning/to find her closure on her own… but it still breaks my heart so much, in the way she alternated between trying to be firm and dry, and pleading:

(MAG179) BASIRA: I’m… going to stay here. Burn the body. ARCHIVIST: Of course, we can wait. I still need to, uh… BASIRA: No. You go on. I’ll make my own way to London. [A BAG IS ZIPPED] MARTIN: … What? N–no, don’t be daft, it’s not a problem for us to wait while you deal with this! BASIRA: Please. Just go. MARTIN: … Wait… Seriously? ARCHIVIST: Basira, if you travel on your own, if you’re not with us, I… can’t guarantee your safety. BASIRA: Good. MARTIN: Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone. BASIRA: It’s just… something I have to do. … You said follow the tower, right? ARCHIVIST: Right. MARTIN: No, no, this is ridiculous, you could die! BASIRA: I’ll do my best not to. MARTIN: This isn’t a joke, Basira! ARCHIVIST: Martin, this is what she needs. MARTIN: No, no! I–it’s…! BASIRA: It’ll… MARTIN: It’s completely– BASIRA: It’ll help me. All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. […] [SOFTLY] Martin. Please. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … [SIGH] You’d better look after yourself. BASIRA: I will. ARCHIVIST: [GENTLY] Come on. [FOOTSTEPS] [INHALE] For what it’s worth… I’m sorry it had to work out like this. BASIRA: … I’m not.

* Confirmation that Jon seems to have been protecting Martin and her from the domains’ influence so far, as long as they stayed close to him?

* “Basira, getting yourself hurt isn’t going to help anyone.” => mix of “who’s talking.” and “MARTIN. HAS. LEARNED!” (It’s what he did all through season 4 ;w; He knows that from personal experience…)

* I’M HAVING FEELINGS over that tiny Martin-Basira soft moment… gosh… (I’m remembering how Basira had been very cautious and defensive of Martin when she had explained to Jon that Martin had had a bad time… because he had lost his mother, at the beginning of season 4, and how she had clearly seen that it had impacted him… She was often harsh towards him, but she wasn’t heartless…)

* So Panopstitute is now a shared goal AND the point where they will supposedly meet up.

* Overall: I want to believe that Basira will be okay on her own journey, aaaaaaaaaah ;_; Clearly in pain, but I want to hope that she’ll be fine on her own, and getting a bit better…

* Proud of Jon for explicitly asking Basira’s permission to watch/know about her ;_; Consent! (And he’s worried, too!)

* I wonder if Jon’s leg was truly healing, as he claimed, since we didn’t hear static that would suggest a supernatural healing speed? It is truly getting better, or is he hiding the pain and injury since they have to leave now? (… Given the overall dream logic, I would almost expect the injury to not heal as long as Jon doesn’t truly process Daisy’s death, but we’ll see.)

* Sob for how Basira&Jon joked about his apologising too much… and the episode ended with Jon apologising over what had happened.

- H… Hey… Daisy was officially an Archival Assistant since season 4, since she had signed the contract in order to get rid of the dreams… So the curse of “one Assistant dies every odd-numbered season” has already been fulfilled, right…? So there doesn’t need to be any more death in the team this season, right? So there won’t be another Assistant death ever, unless Jonny writes a season 7, RIGHT…?

- Goodbye Daisy ;_; You were amazing in season 4, I couldn’t help but still cross fingers that there was a sliver of hope to get you back once again, and I’m SAD for you (and for Basira), and I hope that you can finally “listen to the quiet” again ;___;

Time to relisten to season 4 and think about you making Jon listen to The Archers.

I’m TwwwwT super sad (in a good way) about Jon lamenting that he would have liked to be able to say his goodbyes to Daisy, and acknowledging that they had been close (“FRIENDS”!!!), kinda hoping that the page is not turned (and-then-we-never-talked-about-Daisy-ever-again) but that instead the loss will cling to them a bit and that there will be Sadness about it. It’s… still a death, it’s still a loss, it’s still something that hurt and stung! ;w;

- … I feel like there might have been some implication contained within the fact that they agreed to kill Daisy in the current circumstances…? Jon said that he couldn’t do anything for her anymore because she was “too deep” in; but they chose to do it now, meaning that… she couldn’t have got better when/if they manage to turn the world back and stop the apocalypse. So either they’ve slowly grown accustomed to thinking that the world can’t get better, either… Daisy wouldn’t have survived anyway if the world were to be “fixed” and freed from the clutch of the Fears. So what does that mean about Jon, who is absolutely deep into Beholding? What would happen to Jon, the Archivist, the Archive, if the world was to be saved? Could he survive a Change Back, or would he just disappear like the Fears?

(- For once, I’m actually a bit surprised at the title since… “Accomplice” worked for the statement, it worked for Basira&Daisy’s relationship as it used to be, but it wasn’t really applying to Basira anymore – this is precisely the episode where she definitely refused to go back to being an “accomplice”. “Partner(s)” had been the word characteristic of Daisy&Basira’s relationship and would have been the title I would have expected for this episode, given their dynamic.

… So instead, it makes me whimp out the red string, and consider that the “accomplice(s)” might not have been the obvious ones. Can’t help but *SQUINT* at Martin this episode, because:

* We know that Basira and Martin talked about something in MAG178 when Jon was giving his statement, and we don’t know the details of it.

(MAG178) MARTIN: –I know, I know you find it hard whe– … Done already? ARCHIVIST: Yes. […] MARTIN: I was just… giving Basira some advice. ARCHIVIST: [GOOD-NATURED] Avatars are from Mars and humans are from Venus, that sort of thing? MARTIN: [TINY CHUCKLE] I mean… yeah? Sort of? ARCHIVIST: [BRIEF CHUCKLE] MARTIN: Well, w–we were pretty much done anyway.

(And in the same way: we don’t know for sure what happened to Martin when he ended up wandering off into The Web’s domain in MAG172. Did he tell Jon the whole story about it? Or did something happen that he managed to hide?)

* Last few episodes have been extremely insistent in reminding us that Jon is making active efforts to not look into Basira’s and Martin’s heads at all:

(MAG177) BASIRA: … What’s it like? Being with someone who can see the inside of your head? MARTIN: Hm? Oh! Oh no, he doesn’t. I told him not to, and so he tries to… look away? BASIRA: And you trust him to do that. MARTIN: [DECISIVE] Yes. I do. […] BASIRA: [ANGRY] I told you not to look in my head! ARCHIVIST: I didn’t. And I won’t.

(MAG178) ARCHIVIST: Yes. [INHALE] Talking about me? BASIRA: … I assume that’s a rhetorical question. ARCHIVIST: I am trying to keep my powers to myself.

(MAG179) BASIRA: I am. [BASIRA TAKES AIM AGAIN, HESITATES AGAIN] Would you stop staring at me like that?! ARCHIVIST: Like what? BASIRA: Like you’ve looked inside my head, and you don’t like what you see. ARCHIVIST: If that’s an accusation, then you’re wrong. I don’t do that. [FEASTING SOUNDS STOP] BASIRA: Right. Like you’re suddenly given infinite power and no consequences, and that’s when you decide to start respecting people’s privacy. ARCHIVIST: Is that really so hard to believe? […] BASIRA: All going well, I’ll meet you both in London. He’ll know where to find me. ARCHIVIST: So, you won’t mind if I check up on you sometimes? BASIRA: If you must! But don’t overdo it. I don’t like being watched. ARCHIVIST: Understood.

* Martin was mostly fine about the concept of betraying the trust of someone you like and care for, as long as it’s in ~their best interest~:

(MAG176) ARCHIVIST: [INHALE] I don’t like betraying someone’s trust like this. MARTIN: It’s not a betrayal if you’re doing it to help. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] I’m not so sure…! MARTIN: Look, if it was me in her shoes, I’m sure I’d forgive you. It–it’s for the best!

* Jon’s joke about “Methinks the Spider doth protest too much…!” (MAG167) when Martin asked him not to look inside his head… reminds me of the way the gang managed to convince Elias that it was in his best interest for Martin not to come along to the Unknowing, in MAG116: Martin’s offense and protests were staged in order to make it pass as innocuous that he would stay behind at the Institute; Jon asked for Martin to stay, but they needed Elias to feel like it was partly his own decision, hence Martin’s protests. Back then, we didn’t know that Elias had made a bet with Peter (so it’s unclear whether he was factoring in Jon potentially dying and his need for a back-up, or if it was mostly motivated by the fact that Martin had to stay alive in order to set up Jon’s Lonely mark), but the situation still is very reminiscent of the end of MAG179: character A makes a decision, Martin protests and tries to argue, until character B steps in to validate A and Martin has to agree with the others… about something that was A’s and his plan from the start. It’s basically Martin’s modus operandi, that he also used to make Elias focus in him in MAG118 (spilling his frustrations and pains) and to keep Peter’s attention on him during season 4 (genuinely wanting to stop The Extinction, being susceptible to The Lonely, but not wanting to serve Peter’s plans). Always mixing his genuine feelings in with some deception, to hide his endgame intentions.

… So what if, in the same way, Basira&Martin’s little opposition here had been staged because they needed Basira to be out of Jon’s radar for a while, and for Jon to feel like that was natural…?

(Obligatory disclaimer: I don’t believe that Martin is secretly evil or working against Jon; if Martin is currently plotting something, I really think it would because he needs Jon to not know about it (because of Jon’s status as the lynchpin of the apocalypse and The Eye’s favourite), and/or because it will require Martin to take risks and he knows that Jon would protest that. Overall, it’s surprising that, for now, Martin doesn’t explicitly have a plan – he’s been following Jon and seems to be focusing all his hopes on the Panopticon – while he used to be planning and scheming so easily before. So what if there was actually something currently in progress, in the blind spot of Jon’s vision and near-omniscience…?))

- Anyway, the points that Jon is not looking into Basira’s nor Martin’s heads, that he is distracted when talking with someone or giving a statement (… really reminiscent of Basira in season 3 explaining how Elias wasn’t able to focus on anyone and anything else when using his powers to traumatise Melanie, uh…), and that he can assume things that end up working out differently (so can think erroneously as long as he hasn’t thought to Know about it and asked the good questions to his pool of knowledge)… definitely feel like something about this is going to come back to bite them in the ass later. ;;

I have HIGH HOPES for EMOTIONAL PAIN with MAG180’s title! =D I’m thinking about grief and mourning – could be the occasion to get an episode a bit like MAG167, Jon “giving the statement” of people from before the Change? Maybe not even solely about Daisy, but about all the assistants&friends (Sasha, Tim, Gerry, Daisy) they have lost since signing up for the Archives? Or Jon and Martin thinking about the kind of internal/emotional/psychological journey they have to accomplish in order to reach the Panopticon, whether or not there is something preventing them from reaching it, in the same way that Basira had to face Daisy’s crimes and “see the monster” to be able to catch up to her?

If there is a domain: Vast and Buried could work in a very physical sense, End could fit too…

[haberdashing]

Unraveling All The Mystery

TMA mental time travel AU; Jon gives the rest of the original archives crew an explanation for his erratic behavior. Inspired by this post and this fic of it.

on AO3

“Jon...”

“...this is an intervention.”

Jon couldn’t help but burst into laughter when he heard those words.

He’d known something was up when all three archival assistants had joined him at once in his office early that morning, had half-suspected that they were going to ask in unison about how he had been acting different ever since he had the memories of his future self (well, of his no-longer-future self, hopefully) dumped into his head, but that phrasing...

It reminded Jon of an entirely different “intervention” directed his way, and while he knew he needed to take this situation seriously, it was still a far sight for being confronted for stalking his coworkers and accusing them of murder.

(To be fair, two of the four people he’d seen as murder suspects at the time had in fact killed someone, but Jon knew well enough that that didn’t entirely excuse his actions.)

Martin’s brows furled together in that way Jon had always secretly found adorable as he asked, “What’s so funny?”

Jon tried his best to school his expression back into something approximating neutral before he replied. “It’s... it’s a long story.” Technically true, that, though he knew it wouldn’t get him far to say that alone, knew he wasn’t the only one here hungry for answers (at least metaphorically speaking). “Never mind that. What is this... ‘intervention’ regarding?”

Sasha, Martin, and Tim all exchanged a look that Jon couldn’t quite decipher for a silent moment before Sasha spoke up.

“All three of us have noticed that you haven’t been acting like yourself lately.”

And of course it was Sasha telling him this. Sasha who he had two sets of memories of now, one of the real her and one of a being that had taken her place, the two already starting to blur together in his mind when he wasn’t face to face with the real thing.

Jon knew that her point was a fair one, but he still wanted to know more, wanted to know what exactly had changed, what had revealed to the rest of the world his internal change, wanted to know if it was something Jonah Magnus might have already noticed, so he raised an eyebrow and asked, “How so?”

Tim blurted out “weird” right as Martin blurted out “nice,” with Sasha waiting a beat before adding, “Weirdly nice.”

“...fair enough.” Jon could feel a smile sneaking back onto his face as he spoke. “I do know what you’re referring to there, and I, I do want to explain it all to you, but... do you mind if we take this conversation- er, this ‘intervention’ elsewhere?”

“...this is your office.”

“Exactly. Hardly neutral ground, is it?” Especially with Jonah Magnus doubtlessly watching their every move from his office, but Jon wasn’t very well going to mention that bit... “How about we go to that ice cream parlor we went to for Martin’s birthday? My treat.”

Sasha eyed Jon warily. “I had breakfast two hours ago.”

“Are you really going to turn down an offer of free ice cream and answers because of that?”

The three assistants exchanged a few pointed glances and slight shrugs before Tim said with a wide grin that may or may not have been entirely genuine, “You had me at ‘free ice cream.’”

“Glad to hear it.”

Jon got up and grabbed his bag, but before he could finish leading the way out of the Archives, a thought occurred to him. “Somebody bring a digital recording device with--laptop, phone, whatever, just so long as it’s digital. This won’t be a statement per se, but talking about it all will probably mess up the recordings as badly as the real statements do, and maybe that’ll help prove that this truly is the supernatural at work.”

There was a brief silence for a moment before Martin asked, “Jon, what d’you mean by real statements?”

“You know what I mean.” Jon sighed softly. “The ones with something solid to them, the ones you can’t easily rationalize away... not that I haven’t tried. They never record digitally.”

“I’ll go get a camera then.” Sasha darted away, and as she did, Jon could practically feel Martin and Tim’s gazes boring into him.

“So you do know there’s a difference.” Tim said.

“I didn’t think you believed any of them!” Martin added.

Jon sighed again. “I’ve... I’ve always believed in the supernatural. Well, perhaps not always, but for decades now, long before I got hired by the Institute. That’s why I wanted to work here in the first place. The skeptic act was always just that. An act, because it felt safer than the alternative.”

The awkward silence that followed was broken only by Sasha returning triumphantly, camera in hand. “Got it!”

“Great, let’s go.”

For a moment or two, as Jon’s feet obediently traced their way towards the ice cream parlor despite part of his brain insisting that it’d been years since he’d been to the place, Jon thought that was that.

Then Martin spoke up, his voice tentative but clear. “Care to share why you started believing in the supernatural, then?”

“Not particularly.” Jon paused, considered his options a bit more. He needed to be open with them, to trust them, he knew that, but... but that didn’t make talking about supernatural childhood trauma any easier. “Let’s just say it has to do with my distaste for both Leitners and spiders and leave it at that.”

Martin scrunched up his nose, and Jon’s heart ached at the sight of it. “Fair enough.”

The ice cream parlor wasn’t terribly busy this time of day, which was probably for the best, as Jon figured the less chance of being overheard, the better. After a bit of teasing and decision-making, Jon paid for the order as he’d promised, with both him and his assistants getting one scoop of ice cream each (though Tim had jokingly threatened to buy a scoop of every flavor the place had to offer just because Jon would have to foot the bill).

“What’s with you and rum and raisin ice cream, anyway?”

Jon glared at Tim. Tim glared back.

“What do you mean? It’s good.”

“If you’re eighty years old and have no taste buds left, maybe. Seriously, if you made an objective ranking of ice cream flavors-”

“That’s literally impossible, Tim, everybody has different preferences-”

Tim raised his voice a bit as he spoke over Jon. “Then you know that in dead last would be-”

“Anything with marshmallows in it?”

Martin looked up from his scoop of rocky road, pointing his spoon at Jon accusingly. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” Jon couldn’t quite look Martin in the eye as he continued, so he focused his gaze on Tim instead. “The texture is all wrong for mixing with ice cream, they’re disgustingly sweet, and do you know what marshmallows are made out of? Because I don’t consider that appetizing, especially in a dessert context.”

Martin scrunched up his face again. “...I try not to think about it.”

“So we’ve established that Jon’s taste in ice cream is just wrong in general, I see.” Sasha chimed in.

“Exactly! We weren’t discussing Martin’s taste in ice cream here-” Tim started to gesture wildly with his own spoon, flecks of moose tracks coming perilously close to falling off as he flailed it around. “We’re discussing Jon’s, and specifically how horrible it is.”

“Technically, we didn’t come here to discuss anybody’s taste in ice cream.”

“Said like a man who still hasn’t explained what the deal is with him and rum and raisin.”

Jon weighed the pros and cons of trying to change the subject more forcefully versus just flat-out telling the truth before settling on the latter.

“My grandmother used to buy it for me as a treat. We’d sit side by side on the couch and share a pint as we watched nature documentaries on the telly. It was as close to a family tradition as we had, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Tim’s gaze softened a bit. “Alright, I’ll give you that one.”

“So it’s not because you’re eighty and have no taste buds, it’s because your grandmother was?” Sasha added.

“Hey!”

Sasha stuck out her tongue, turned bright pink from the strawberry ice cream she was eating, her expression clearly unapologetic.

“Can we talk about what we’re actually here to talk about now?”

Jon’s voice came out a little louder than he had intended, and his near-shouting seemed to shut down the friendly banter that had been surrounding him in one fell swoop. Sasha closed her mouth, a few awkward glances were exchanged (none of which were directed at Jon himself), and silence fell.

“...sure thing, Jon. Go right ahead.” Martin eventually replied.

“Start the camera, please?”

Sasha futzed with the camera for a few seconds before nodding and shooting Jon a thumbs-up. Before Jon could speak up, though, Tim beat him to the punch.

“Statement of Joe Spooky, regarding-”

Jon pressed one hand against his temple, though he was struggling to hold back a laugh as he did so. “I told you, Tim, this isn’t a statement. Not a proper one, anyway. We’re damn well not going to be filing it away in the archives, at least.”

Even with his hand half-covering his eyes, Jon could see Tim’s raised eyebrow and amused expression clearly enough. “Not even going to mention the Joe Spooky bit?”

“Wasn’t planning on it, no.” Though Jon couldn’t help but think of the other time Tim had grabbed a recording device and made a joke about the statement of Joe Spooky... but that was why he had to explain all of this, so that they could work together, so that they could prevent Prentiss’ attack on the Archives and all the horrible things that had followed it the first time around.

“Smart man, knows better than to quibble with some quality wordplay.”

“That’s not wordplay, Tim.” Sasha interjected. “That’s not even a pun, just a first name and the word ‘spooky.’”

“Like I said, quality wordplay right there.”

“Please let me actually talk about this?”

Once again, as Jon spoke up, the others went eerily silent. Jon set his hands on the table as he weighed his next words.

“So, do you want to hear my explanation first, or the proof I have to back it up?”

Tim spoke up first. “Proof first. Given how much you’re building this up, I doubt I’ll believe any of it before you’ve given me a reason to believe this isn’t just some elaborate prank.”

“Usually you’d be the one pranking me, not the other way around. I’m not exactly the pranking type.”

Tim shrugged slightly. “Well, maybe you’ve finally snapped, decided to get your revenge by launching a prank for the ages.”

Jon thought about disputing the idea that he would ever prank one of his assistants, let alone Tim--Tim who he knew from back in Research, Tim who was his friend, Tim who probably knew him better than anyone in the Institute (Jonah Magnus notwithstanding)--but decided against it. “Fine, so that’s one vote for proof first. Anyone else?”

Martin raised his hand before speaking, as if he were still back in primary school, and Jon knew that there had been a time not that long ago when he would have made that very comparison in an attempt to dismiss Martin, in an attempt to prove that at least he was more mature and competent than one of his coworkers. But that time had come and gone now, and Jon was just grateful that Martin was willing to take turns rather than everybody trying to speak over everybody else all at once. “Er, I’d rather have the story first, personally. Hard to establish proof if we don’t know what’s being proven to begin with.”

“Alright, well, that leaves you with the deciding vote, Sasha.” Jon pointed at Sasha, using his finger rather than his spoon for the gesture.

Sasha shoved a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth right as Jon pointed her way, dramatically drawing out her consumption of it before finally swallowing and saying with a mouth still tinged bright pink, “I say proof first. Between working in Artefact Storage and in the Archives, I’ve heard more than my fair share of horror stories; I’d like to know we can trust you, trust that you’re not some creepy doppelganger or something, before we get to the meat of whatever this is.”

Jon nodded. “Very well. Proof first it is.” Jon drummed his fingers on the table for a moment as he thought. “I can’t directly prove what’s happened since there’s no physical evidence, but I can prove that I know things about each of you that you haven’t told me, things that I have no way of knowing unless something supernatural is going on.”

“Go for it, boss.”

“Tim, I... god, there’s no easy way to say this, is there... I know what happened to Danny.”

Tim’s whole body tensed up at the mention of Danny’s name, and he glanced over at Sasha briefly, the two evidently having a silent conversation through facial expressions and minute gestures. Once, Jon would have been able to Know what it was they were saying, Know the meaning of each wink of the eye or tilt of the head, but now he could only make a few educated guesses.

“I know the whole story about your trip to Covent Garden Theatre, and your run-in with Joseph Grimaldi there. I know you want revenge on the circus more than anything in the world, even your own life. I’ll make sure you get that revenge, that the circus is destroyed, though hopefully this time you won’t be lost in the process. And I’m... I’m sorry for your loss.”

Tim blinked rapidly a few times, shifting his gaze from Sasha to Jon. His spoon fell from his hand into his cup of ice cream, though he didn’t seem to notice it, even when a few flecks of mostly-melted ice cream fell onto his shirt. “...shit.”

“Wait, you know about that?” Sasha said, tilting her head slightly to one side.

“I do now. Due to... well, I’ll tell you the story, but I don’t think I’m quite finished with the proof bit yet.”

“Right. Well, keep at it, I suppose.”

“Of course. Sasha...” Jon reached out to grab his own hair, but ended up with more empty air than actual strands of hair in his grasp. How had his hair ever been this short? “I wish I knew more about you, the, the real you. Besides arguing about how to pronounce calliope-”

“Cal-ee-OH-pee.” Sasha corrected, a weak grin on her face.

“Ca-LIE-oh-pee-” Jon returned Sasha’s grin with one of his own, one that he wasn’t sure he could stifle even if he tried. “And your distaste for Artefact Storage, though that apparently won’t stop you from going there in an emergency... Terrible idea, by the way. Don’t go in Artefact Storage, and especially don’t go check out that web table alone.”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Sasha shivered exaggeratedly at the thought.

“But I, I do know, actually, that you and Tim have talked about how you’re more qualified to be head archivist than I am, that you should’ve been the one to get the position instead of me.”

This time, Sasha was the one to start the silent conversation between her and Tim.

“And honestly? You’re absolutely right. I came across a tape Gertrude left for her successor--far too late for it to help me directly--and she made it very clear that she expected that successor to be you, Sasha.”

Sasha stopped her silent conversation with Tim to stare at Jon. “Seriously?”

“Seriously. And based on what I now know, it’s entirely possible Elias chose me in part because you really would have been better at this job than I am.” Jon punctuated the statement with a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Why would Elias do that, though?” Martin asked.

“That ties in to the bigger picture stuff a fair bit, but suffice it to say that when Elias was looking for an Archivist, he had a lot more in mind for the position than actually taking care of the files in the Archives. There’s a reason Gertrude left it in such disarray, and there’s a reason he has so many inane rules about how to go about organizing what remains.”

“So he’s sabotaging the place?” Tim looked a little less shaken than he had been a moment ago, though he still hadn’t cleaned up the ice cream staining his shirt and was now fiddling absentmindedly with his spoon, half-eaten ice cream forgotten.

“Essentially, yes.”

Tim snorted. “Explains a few things, actually.”

Martin raised his hand again. “D’you have any spooky impossible knowledge about me, then?”

Jon laughed, loud and long. “Martin... the question isn’t whether I know anything about you, the question is where to start.” Jon shook his head, rapping his spoon against his cup as he considered what to say next.

“I know... I know you lied on your CV to get in here, that you don’t even have a degree, let alone the Master’s in parapsychology that you claimed to have. I know that you don’t have a middle name, middle initial notwithstanding. I know you’ve got a second tape recorder stashed away in document storage, that you use it to record poetry you wrote, because you think it gives a, a certain lo-fi charm to the recordings...”

“H-hang on a minute!” Martin’s face was red, but Jon didn’t think it was entirely out of embarrassment this time, and Tim and Sasha had their shoulders raised, as if they felt they were being attacked somehow...

“...oh, that sounds bad, doesn’t it? I promise this- this isn’t me calling you out, or, or attacking you, you don’t need to get defensive about all this-”

“Really?” Martin sounded skeptical; Jon couldn’t really blame him.

“For one thing, I couldn’t fire you even if I wanted to. And for another, I absolutely, positively don’t want to. Martin Blackwood, you’re stuck here with us for the long haul.”

“Great.” There was a sharp sarcasm to Martin’s tone, but Jon elected to ignore it.

“I also know that... that you notice a lot more than people think, that you do a lot more than people give you credit for. Including me. Especially me. I’ve taken you for granted... all of you, really, but especially you, Martin. And I’m sorry about that, I really am. I know better now, I swear.”

“...thanks?”

“Don’t mention it. Literally, don’t mention any of this when we’re in the Institute. I don’t want to risk Elias overhearing what I’m going to tell all of you.”

“Elias doesn’t come down to the Archives that much...”

Jon shook his head. “Doesn’t matter. Still don’t talk about it.”

“Fine. Won’t mention it.”

“Good.” Jon took a deep breath and let it out before saying, “Proof?”

A few more glances were exchanged between the three assistants before all three nodded in agreement. “Proof.”

Sasha adjusted her glasses slightly before asking, “So what exactly is it you’re proving to us, then?”

“I, uh.” Well. No use beating around the bush. It was going to sound ridiculous no matter what, but hopefully he’d done enough to establish beforehand that he wasn’t just imagining things or making things up. Hopefully he’d done enough that they wouldn’t dismiss his experience the way he’d dismissed so many others.

“I have memories of the future.”

“You’re talking about time travel?” Sasha says, the bright gleam of her eyes visible even though her glasses.

“Not exactly--I didn’t physically go back in time, just, just mentally, just the memories I shouldn’t have yet.” Jon stared down at his hand, the same hand which he clearly remembered being covered in scars from worms and flames and stabbing, but was now utterly unblemished. “And they’re not... not memories of this future. I mean, I didn’t have this conversation before, it doesn’t work quite like that. I remember a future where I didn’t have these memories to work with--so it’d be some sort of changing or branching timeline, not, not a stable time loop...”

“I see.” Tim’s expression suggested otherwise, suggested that despite what his words might suggest he was caught somewhere between confusion and disbelief.

“I suddenly got these memories overnight not long after Martin...” Jon hesitated, unsure how to delicately phrase the next bit of what he had to say, how to refer to Prentiss’ siege on Martin’s flat without risking upsetting Martin in the process.  “...started living in the Archives. So I imagine that’s when I started acting weird, or, or nice, or weirdly nice, or however you want to put it. I don’t know why it happened then, exactly, but maybe it has something to do with me growing into my role as Archivist--late enough that I’m already getting comfortable in the position, but hopefully early enough that I can prevent the worst of it from happening all over again.”

Martin held up his hand, though less in a way reminiscent of a primary schooler and more in a way reminiscent of such a child’s crossing guard telling an oncoming car to stop. “I’m sorry, I was trapped in my flat for almost a fortnight, under siege by, by some sort of flesh worm hive thing--are you honestly saying that’s not ‘the worst of it’?”

Jon laughed and shook his head brusquely. “I wish it were, Martin, but unfortunately that’s just the tip of the iceberg here.”

Sasha tilted her head to one side, some strands of hair falling into her face as she did so. “What’s the iceberg then?”

“Well, there’s a lot of it, as the metaphor rather implies, but I’ll try to keep it short... Prentiss attacks the Institute-”

Martin’s face visibly paled at the mention of Prentiss’ name, and Jon scrambled to reassure him.

“Even in the future I remember she didn’t directly kill anyone, and I’ll make damn sure she doesn’t get a chance to do so this time around, but, well, that is what happened. And when Prentiss attacks, Sasha runs over to Artefact Storage, messes with the web table when nobody else is around, and gets killed and replaced by the monster bound to it.”

Jon started to put one finger out for each major event he lists off, as if keeping a tally, though he has no idea what the final count should be.

“Martin finds Gertrude’s body in the tunnels. I accidentally release the thing that replaced Sasha when I meant to kill it, and it almost kills me in turn. I get framed for murder, get kidnapped three separate times within a few months. Tim stops the circus from completing their ritual, but blows himself up in the process. Martin almost gets lost to the Lonely. I accidentally end the world, try to make it better, can’t make it better, send my memories back right as everything’s entirely going to shit. There’s more to it, but those are the most important events, at any rate.”

At least, they’re the most important events relating to Martin, Sasha, and Tim. No need to tell them about things like Melanie getting shot by ghosts in India, or Daisy getting stuck in the Buried. The big picture is complicated enough as it is.

“...I know you’ve made a few cock-ups in your time, boss, but ending the world is a new one even for you.”

Jon couldn’t bring himself to laugh, or even to meet Tim’s eyes, instead staring down at the sad dregs of his ice cream, long since melted. “It’s really not funny. Billions of people--just about everybody in the world--were suffering, stuck in a seemingly-endless torment, and it was all my fault.”

Martin bit his lip anxiously for a moment before speaking up. “I’m sure it wasn’t all your fault.”

Martin’s words brought a slight smile to Jon’s face, but he still shook his head in response. “It was. Trust me, Martin, it really was my doing. We had this argument enough after it actually happened... rather than discuss that further, I’d rather focus on preventing it this time around.”

“Do you have an actual plan for making sure the world doesn’t end for us, then?”

Jon looked up, looking into Sasha’s dark eyes, before breaking into laughter and grinning.

“What exactly do you think I’ve been doing all this time?”

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

I

The Eye thrives on knowledge, of course. On understanding. Not necessarily on moving the pieces across the board -that's the Spider's domain, though perhaps that's why they work so well together, one knowing exactly where pawn needs to be to strike the king, the other moving it forward with the slightest pull of a string- but on seeing all details, and predicting all outcomes.

More than anything else, the Eye feeds on Knowing its chosen, and how to lure them in until they not only can't find the way out, but until they don't want to.

When Jonah Magnus first sat on the Panopticon, the Eye rewarded him with life eternal. It offered Gertrude Robinson all the gifts it had to give, and watched in delight as she -for all that she refused the powers- fed it knowledge acquired specifically to annoy other Entities. When young Gerard Keay marked his body with its image, the Eye gave him the ability to See. Just enough to entice him, to bring him onto the path of the Beholding and let the Archivist use him.

Now the Pupil has chosen it a new Archivist, and as he debates between life and death the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

Gertrude Robinson clung to her humanity with the same cold ferocity she used to guide so many innocents to their death -and worse- like lambs to the Slaughter. She was aware the monsters feared her, relished in the fact. She only ever gave the irony of it a passing thought.

Jonathan on the contrary, is painfully human, even as he steadily moves towards his realization as an Avatar. The Eye knows what he yearns for the most is the people he's lost. The ones he thinks will keep him human.

He's going to be sad, when he wakes up and finds that two more are gone.

It's not outside the realm of possibility, to bring one of them back for him. Make it blatantly obvious that it was a gift from the Ceaseless Watcher, that more can be given if he surrenders himself over fully and willingly.

Entities bring people back from the dead all the time. Dying is after all, a requirement to become an Avatar in full. Terminus is patient, mostly because Avatars of all kinds usually end up feeding it with their victims. Their patrons get their fear, The End gets their lives.

Resurrecting people marked by other Entities, however? Not as simple.

Sasha James fed the Stranger when she died, so long ago and before she could form any meaningful connection to the Entity that would have been her patron. She survived for a while even in her state of not being, banging against the inside of mirrors to try and make her friends notice the reflection didn't quite match up to the impostor. It never worked.

Alice Tonner is not dead, and even if she were, the Hunt has her well within its grasp. The connection grows fainter each year-long day she stays in the coffin, but as she is now, she's not a possibility.

Timothy Stoker is promising. Though he was marked by the Stranger in his youth, though the Desolation turned its flaming gaze to him the moment he pressed the trigger with only destruction in his mind, Tim belonged to the Beholding for years.

They were also friends. Well before the Archives, before the Knowledge, before the pain. Nights out in which the awkwardness became comfortable merely because of its familiarity, jokes that struck too hard and apologies that were more heartfelt than they were good.

Jon requested Tim be moved to the Archives because he felt his presence would make the new space safe. Tim followed because his love for people has always manifested in a need to be there, regardless of if 'there' is the Old Opera House or a stuffy old basement with too many statements to sort through.

The Eye knows better of course. It always does.

Jon flinched away from Tim's every movement, feared his barbed words as much as he sought them out. Drank in the bitter poison of his hatred as though it might kill the monster inside him, as he tried to hold back his new instincts for fear of driving him further away. Jon and Tim loved each other once, and even in the last months of his life Jon still held on to the hope that if he regained Tim's affection it would mean he was human again.

A misguided notion, and a dangerous one at that.

The Eye needs someone who has loved monsters. Someone who will do so again.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

Of course, the fact that he wakes up at all takes priority in his mind over his apparent taste in nap spots, since the last time -or what he expected to be the last time- he closed his eyes, his page on mum's bloody skin book was finally going to burn, after years of being forced to play spooky Wikipedia for a pair of nutcases.

His head spins when he sits up on the cot, and he has to bend forward and rest his elbows on his knees until the world. Stops. Moving.

Why the on Earth is he still here?! Hasn't he earned his rest? He helped save so many people, he-

"Coma! Great," comes a muffled voice, and the world stills so suddenly he almost misses the nausea.

Gerry very slowly lifts his head, but the dizziness doesn't come back. Before him is a heavy door with a small window made of thick glass, glowing softly against the darkness of the room in an insinuation of light somewhere beyond.

"Let's rearrange his office," the voice says again, just as Gerry climbs to his feet. He feels much more steady than he expected just from his wild excursion into sitting, as he follows the familiar voice towards the door. "Sleeping people don't need pens."

He leans down to look through the glass.

There, down a long corridor and much too far for Gerry to reasonably be able to listen to, is Jonathan Sims.

That explains the sense of familiarity coming from the voice. But... it makes no sense. Jon promised to burn his page, and Gerry-

Gerry actually believed him when he did.

He seemed so different from Gertrude, eyes looking at him like a person instead of a tool, even when he had most decidedly stopped being the former and moved firmly down the scale to the latter. Had Jon broken his promise? Had he kept-

But no, this doesn't feel at all like waking up from his page. He feels… real. Human enough to be sick, to be sore and tired and-

"Melanie!" a burst of energy pumps through his veins -he's got veins?- when Jon speaks again, but when Gerry looks up he's not sitting at his desk anymore. "It's very good to uh- Melanie? Are you- WHOA!"

His hand tightens around the doorknob almost out of its own volition, and he sends the door flying open.

"Melanie, it's- it's me!" Jon's voice has a slight hint of fear in it. Of desperation.

Gerry takes a step down the corridor, and he stops for a second. His muscles tense and relax and he can feel his weight on his bones, smell the dust and the scent of old paper. He'd forgotten the human body could feel so many things. It's so stupid that he never stopped to notice when he was alive.

"No! I- I'm back!" A new set of words floats down the corridor, pouring into Gerry like warm water over a strained limb.

Oh right. The Archivist.

He runs then, flying towards the door as fast as his limbs can carry him. He arrives into Jon's office first, a small room with a desk that's much too neat for anyone to have used it recently, but he barely has enough time to take it all in before Jon's voice pulls at him again, towards the open door.

"What?! No I just- I didn't meant to-"

"How did you make it out then hm?!" Now that he's close enough, Gerry can finally hear the person Jon's arguing with. They sound like a woman, angry and dangerous and-

Much smaller than he'd expected, when he finally peeks through the door. The slight, bony woman exudes an air of violence -there's something wrong with her, Gerry can See it but not place just what it is- as she squares up to a very fidgety Jon, with a hand firmly stuck down her jacket pocket.

"What?" Jon asks. The single, nervous word is almost hypnotic, and a sneaking suspicion is beginning to form in Gerry's mind.

"Tim's dead. Even Daisy's dead, so why are you just fine?" The woman, Melanie, since Jon called her that a moment ago, asks.

"W- no! I've been in the hospital for six mon-"

"Something has been in the hospital for six months, something with your face!" Melanie pulls her hand out of her pocket and yeah, that's a knife. "I warned Basira to not let you back in here, but she! Doesn't! Listen!"

Everything happens at once then. Melanie takes a step forward -she's not wielding the knife as much as she's holding it, Gerry notices, like one would a stress ball-, Jon takes a step back and right over a piece of broken porcelain on the floor, and Gerry takes one out the door. It's like a very weird, surprisingly organized ballet.

"I wouldn't stab him if I were you" Gerry says right as he walks out. Both their gazes hone in on him, one much heavier than the other. "I don't think it'll do much good anyways"

"Who the hell are you?" Melanie turns the knife to him -definitely wielding it now- at the same time Jon lets out a strangled sound.

"Gerry?" Jon asks, eyeing him up and down with a frown. "I'm- That's not- I burned your page!"

"See, that's what I wanted to hear. That and some answers, but instead I have to keep you from getting stabbed as soon as I wake up." Gerry shrugs.

"Don't move" Melanie snarls at him, before turning to Jon. "Who is he?"

"That's Gerard Keay," Jon says as quickly as if he'd been compelled, his eagerness to be found trustworthy almost painful to witness. "he was- is... He worked with Gertrude. And he should be dead."

"Twice over," Gerry confirms with a nod. "apparently I just can't get any rest around you Archivists. That room at the end of the corridor needs a dusting, by the way."

Jon merely gapes at him for a moment. "I- This doesn't make any sen-"

"I'm calling Basira," Melanie cuts into his words, a mobile already lodged between her shoulder and ear.

"I thought you said she never listened," Jon mutters, and Gerry snorts.

"It's me. Get down to his office, now," and she hangs up, before pinning Gerry with a glare again. "Get in."

And really, Gerry's genetically predisposed to rear back against literally any order he's given, but something about Melanie tells him the knife isn't for show. If he's really alive, refusing to go into a perfectly normal room he was in just a minute ago feels like a very bad hill to die on.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Yeah, I've heard some of the ones he shows up on," Basira nods. She's leaning against the closed door of Jon's office and he has no doubt no one will be getting in or out while she's there. "The Hunters had him didn't they? Back in America."

"Not my favorite time, I'll admit," Gerry says, and Jon looks over at him, still somewhat refusing to believe he's real.

He looks... Solid. It sounds like a dumb trait to remark on, but it's the one thing Jon can't get out of his head. The last time he saw him, Gerry was a spectre.A memory of a memory, not even the real him, an echo of pain bound to the pages of the book. Now he's sitting on top of Jon's desk, directly on top of a now very crumpled statement and all Jon can focus on is on how he can crumple paper, cast a shadow, push his paperweight around. His skin folds and stretches as he moves, and the eyes marked over every joint give the appearance of blinking every time he flexes his fingers.

"-n? Jon!" Basira's urgent tone pulls at him, and he looks away from Gerry's hands to find her staring at him with a raised eyebrow.

"Uh... What?" Jon asks. Did he miss part of the conversation?

"You tell me," Basira rolls her eyes. "I was asking you how is he alive, if you burned his page before the Unknowing?"

"Well, how would I-" know?, he means to add. But of course now something is pressing against his mind, like the beginnings of a headache only it feels like a thousand people whispering in his ear at the same time. "Urgh..." Jon frowns, pressing his thumb to his temple uselessly. Pressure doesn't work too well against these sort of migraines, he's found.

"Jon?" Basira takes a step forward, and Melanie's hand immediately shoots forward to pull on her arm.

"Don't touch him," she warns. Jon has little to no doubt the knife is back in her hand, and that she's waiting for him to sprout an extra eye so she can stab it. It would serve him right.

"I'm-" Jon grunts "just a moment, it's-" he stops talking then. It's distracting, and he needs to block-

"Ride it," says Gerry. Jon parts his eyelids -he has no idea when he closed them- and finds he's still sitting on his desk, leaning his elbows on his knees. He's intertwined his fingers, and the way his knuckles align with each other makes it so there's a line of eyes staring back at Jon.

"I- what?"

"You're Knowing something aren't you?" Gerry asks casually. "Gertrude had some of those too. Don't push back, just... Ride it out."

"I'm not going to just let it come, that's- I don't want this!" Jon doesn't know if he's trying to convince himself, or Basira and Melanie but the pressure just keeps getting heavier and heavier-

"You're just going to hurt yourself, you're going to pass out, and when you wake up you will Know," Gerry rolls his eyes. He certainly seems as snarky as when he was a book ghost. "Come on, let Daddy Eye tell you."

Jon darts a desperate look at Basira, tries to ignore how Melanie looks like she's a wrong movement away from launching at him with the knife.

He's... grateful for a moment, that Tim isn't here. That Martin isn't. He wouldn't want them to see him like this.

Basira sighs. "Just... Do it. I guess it works in our favor this time," she says, and it's all the permission Jon needs to just let go.

He closes his eyes again, and when he finally stops pushing against the Eye the knowledge gets implanted in his head almost gently, like it's rewarding him for giving in. It makes him feel nauseated.

"T- The Watcher resurrected you." Jon doesn't say 'for me', because it would sound just as disgusting as it felt when the thought was dropped into his mind "It... I think it's a show of power. To... To make me-"

"To convince you to stay a good little monster?" Melanie hisses "Do what you're told, and you get people back? Whether they want it or not. Sounds right up your alley, if you ask me. You can just keep getting people killed, and we'll keep-"

"Melanie," Basira cuts into her rant with a single word. Jon looks at her gratefully, but her sharp, dark eyes are looking at him more in suspicion than sympathy. "Is she right? Can the Eye bring others back?"

And just like that, Jon is abruptly reminded that he wasn't the only one to lose someone in the Unknowing.

"I... Don't know? Maybe?" He runs a hand through his hair in an old nervous tic that was much more convenient before he went into a coma and had no time for haircuts. "If I- if I serve it well... Maybe it will-"

"No," Basira's lips are a tense line, her eyes averted from Jon's "Forget it, I- we don't want to give it what it wants."

"... No. Of course not," Jon nods, though he Knows at that moment, very acutely, that Basira is not saying what she truly feels about the possibility they're being offered. "so... what should we do with Gerry?"

"It's going to sound crazy, but may I suggest you ask Gerry?" says the man himself. He looks... very unimpressed. But it's ok. Jon is starting to get used to that look aimed at him. "Maybe he has an opinion about being the Ceaseless Voyeur's toy."

"No offense, but I'm still debating on whether or not to kill you." Melanie crosses her arms. "If the Eye wants you alive, I'm pretty sure we don't."

"Well, I'm pretty sure I don't care." Gerry slides off the desk and turns his head side to side to crack his neck. "Gertrude, the Eye, the Hunters, you. I think I'm going to do my own thing. For a change."

He makes it as far as the door because Basira of course hasn't moved, and she's showing no inclination of doing so.

"I'm not letting you out," she says simply.

Gerry thrusts his hands in his pockets, looking down at Basira. Jon doesn't remember him being so tall, but then again he supposed it's hard to really estimate a ghost's height.

"Are you going to kill me?" He asks.

Jon holds his breath. Melanie still has her knife, inching back and around Gerry silently as if waiting for Basira to give her a signal. Gerry's eyes don't follow her, but he has to know, right?

"... No" says Basira after what feels like an eternity. Jon knows she doesn't kill innocents, that she prefers not to kill at all if there's another way -that's Daisy's M.O., Basira has never heard the blood sing in her veins- but he still worried.

"Great. Is there any other reason to keep me here then?" Gerry asks again. His voice sounds pleasant and conversational, like it did when teased Jon about not knowing anything about Gertrude's plans.

He finds himself thinking this might just be how Gerry is, all wrapped up in humor and snark to keep out the rest of it.

"You're alive, and you shouldn't be." Basira still hasn't moved from the door, but she gives her head a slight shake. Jon sees Melanie pocket the knife with a huff.

"I'm gonna take a wild guess and say I'm not the only one in that category." Gerry takes a step sideways to pivot on his heel, and Jon flinches a little when both of them look at him. "Start stabbing, I'll go after Jon."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They let him go after that, of course.

Gerry wanders the London streets for about a week afterwards, trying to figure out a plan of action while ignoring the fact that he doesn't feel the need for sleep, drink or food. He manages to find two of his old emergency stashes, one in a park, the other at the air vents behind a public library so at least he's got some money and two sets of credible fake ID's.

At some point he considers leaving the city. He ought to be able to find a job out by the countryside, and finally be out of this for good. If he doesn't go out looking for trouble, none should follow him. If some does, he knows enough to make it regret the decision.

The normal, boring life Gerry always wanted.

Instead he falls back on old habits, because it's the only thing he knows how to do.

He watches people, sitting on park benches and standing at bus stops. Most of the time they're perfectly normal, just people going about their lives and giving the big, scary looking man a passing look and a wide berth.

Sometimes they aren't.

When Gerry Sees marked people, he follows them from a distance until they're alone, and then he approaches. Some are easier to help than others, and he's both pleased and unnerved that the Eye didn't just give him his Sight back, but made it stronger too. It's much faster to just go up to a man and tell him to think of his daughter waiting at home, instead of trying to convince him he's no threat, or at least not compared to whatever it is he's going to fall into soon.

He also Sees an Avatar out hunting, once.

She's wearing heavy clothes and a facemask, that bulges and squirms disturbingly as she stalks down a group of schoolgirls. Gerry sees a wasp crawl out from under it and into her nostril.

The girls stop in front of a store window to chatter excitedly about what the mannequin -which is thankfully just a mannequin- is wearing, and Gerry hurries his step to reach them before the Hive does.

"Hey," he says, stopping a meter or so away from them, because it won't do to scare them into running. The girls look up at him, already on edge and one of them clenching something inside her raincoat's pocket. Good. Smart girls. Still, he raises his hands to show them he means no harm. "Some freak's been following you. Go into the store for a bit and call someone to pick you up. I'll scare him off"

It takes them a moment to comply with his request, and Gerry applauds their instincts but really wishes they'd hurry because the Hive is coming closer, lurking behind a bus stop only a short distance away. Eventually though, one of them nods and takes one of her friend's hands to pull her into the shop. The rest follow.

"It's very rude to interrupt other people before a meal." The woman's voice is accompanied by a loud buzz and more squirming when Gerry approaches her. Her eyes are bloodshot and littered with yellow dots he suspects are eggs when she lifts her sunglasses to look at him.

"My mum didn't raise me too well," Gerry shrugs. "Go away, before I kill you."

"Are you with the Hunt?" the woman asks. A wasp crawls out of her ear. Gerry arches an eyebrow, but he decides not to draw attention to the literal dozens of eyes across his body. Corruption Avatars, at least Hives, never seem to actually be all there; maybe their parasites eat the key parts of their brains?

"I've got what it takes," he says instead of confirming anything. It's dangerous to align yourself with an Entity, even just in word. A larva begins to squirm out her tear duct, and God, Gerry hates Hives. "Last warning. Go away." He bats away the ear wasp that's trying to land on him.

"Hm... selfish," she mutters, before turning to walk away with her lone wasp following.

Gerry stays at the bus stop until he sees a car stop and the schoolgirls climb into it, darting suspicious looks all around.

He starts feeling the strain by the beginning of the second week.

It's subtle at first, a little exhaustion like he'd been standing in the sun for too long with too warm clothes. With his stylistic choices, it's a feeling he knows well.

Then one night he catches sight of a man sitting alone in his car by the piers, and he tries to See if he's having a normal middle age crisis or staring out into either the Lonely or the Vast, and it hits him.

His legs feel weak, and for all that he feels his breathing quicken Gerry's acutely aware he can't feel his heartbeat doing the same. The dizziness from his first day comes back, and black begins to creep along the edges of his vision.

When he wakes up the next day, the man's car is there, but he's not.

Gerry struggles to his feet, the nausea just this side of tolerable, and moves closer. The car's windows are clouded over from the inside with a heavy fog that has no business being inside a vehicle, much less under fairly strong sunlight.

He sighs, disappointed. This is one he could've saved.

He doesn't try to See again, but sometimes he can't help it, and every time he finds a mark on a passerby he feels weaker and weaker, until an idea pops up in his mind.

He's running out of battery.

It's a jarring thought, but he supposes it makes sense. While he doesn't think the Eye brought him back as a full on Avatar, he's been using Beholding traits to help people. He hasn't been feeding -regular or monster food-, but he doesn't feel the need to either. There's no telling what the Watcher wants.

It doesn't seem to want to tell him either, so Gerry just... keeps walking.

If worst comes to worst, he'll die. It's not that bad, and presumably this time it will be for good, as there's no skin book or Archivist in sight. Besides, he's helped some more people since coming back, so at least he did some good.

After two more days of aimless walking, Gerry leans back against an alley wall, and lets himself slide down to the ground. His legs can't carry him anymore. Maybe this is what a wind up toy feels like?

He rests his forehead against a bent knee, his arms falling down limp by his sides. Maybe he won't die. Maybe his body will just... Shut down, and Gerry will be trapped inside it just like he was in the book. Maybe they'll find him tomorrow, think he overdosed, and bury him.

He certainly never expected to end up feeding Too-Close-I-Cannot-Breathe.

"Yes, I do," says a voice, and Gerry's head whips up almost on its own. "I'm- My name's Jon. Jonathan Sims. I moved in a few weeks ago, but I'm at work a lot."

Each and every word Jon says feels like a small bolt to his nerves, and Gerry remembers the suspicion he had that day at the Archives.

Amazing.

"Yes it's- very nice to meet you too Doris. I should be going in now," says Jon, and Gerry's got enough strength to get to his feet again and look across the street.

The alley he collapsed in is in front of a small residential building, and he can just see the back of a messy haired head disappear behind a door as an older woman in a bright yellow cardigan begins to walk away.

Gerry hurries across the street -who knows how long this burst of energy will last- but slows down before reaching the woman.

"Excuse me?" He asks, trying for once to make himself look smaller and not threatening. Doris still eyes him warily, and he doesn't get any closer. "Did you come out of that building? My friend Jon lives there, but he's not picking up his phone. Do you know which one's his buzzer?"

That does the trick. Doris' mistrust evaporates like mist under the sun and she gives Gerry s perfectly pleasant smile.

"Oh yes! The new tenant, I just met him," she says, clearly very pleased with herself. "He's in 4A, and he just came back home, you're lucky!"

"Yep. That's me. Perfect timing." Gerry smiles back, though he feels his eyelid twitch a little. "Thank you miss, have a nice day."

"Oh, you have a lovely one too! Tell your friend to eat something though, he's awfully skinny!" Doris pats Gerry's shoulder before going on her merry way.

Gerry chuckles a little under his breath, imagining Gertrude in Doris' flashy cardigan, wishing him a lovely day.

Then, he goes back to the building, and jams his finger on the button labeled 4A.

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jon closes the door to his flat behind him, and immediately collapses face down on the living room sofa. It's comfortable enough, but whoever the previous owner was left it smelling strongly of essential oils and Jon has to turn his face to the side to avoid choking on the scent of lavender.

He'd rented the place fully furnished, because he doesn't have the time nor the taste to actually fill up a place he's only been using to sleep. Or to lay in bed looking at the ceiling until it's light out again. Whatever.

It's been... hell.

Jon's not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth, and he's very aware that waking up from the coma was his choice in a pretty literal way.

Still, nothing's going as it should.

Melanie has stopped attacking him on sight, but she still pulls out the knife if he gets too close to her. Basira says to just leave her alone, but that's difficult to do when one is quite literally sharing an office with her.

Then there's Basira herself. She spends all her time reading either books from the library or old statements she finds lying around, and she loses herself so completely in them she doesn't even seem to notice people around her when she does. Jon's tried talking to her about it, but she insists she's fine, and doesn't feel any different.

Jon also knows she's been seeing Elias at jail, but whenever he's gone to do the same he's been turned away without an explanation. It's not like he wants to talk to Elias, but the man could at least do him the courtesy of answering some questions.

And Martin.

He saw him today, and Jon's willing to bet it's part of the reason he feels so drained. Martin looks... well.

He's not pale or haggard, hasn't lost any weight or started sporting any prominent eye bags like the ones Jon sees in the mirror every day. He keeps busy, rarely going down to the Archives anymore.

Always going through some file with a slight frown on his face, and all Jon can think of when he sees him is that Martin didn't use to frown so much. His face is too soft and too open for the gesture, and Jon doesn't like it. He remembers the slight nervousness, the uncertainty in his eyes and the curve of his lips when he opened the door to Jon's office with a steaming cup of tea, and he can't help telling himself that this too is his fault.

Martin is dealing with Lukas on his own to keep the rest of them safe, because Jon can't do it.

Back when they were... friends, Tim used to say Jon didn't know what middle points were. Either he didn't care about something, or he went all in, no holds barrelled. He'd joked that had been what scared his ex-girlfriend away, and then apologized when Jon had gone too quiet too quick.

The joke came back when they moved down to the Archives. "First you didn't even want to check out the place, now we can't get you out, boss. It's ridiculous," he'd said. Jon had rolled his eyes at him, because of course he wanted to keep working as much as he could, Robinson's 'system' was absolute chaos, and they were no closer to fixing it months after starting.

"Now you care all of a sudden huh?" Tim had said that last night before the Unknowing. Jon had looked at him and had the thought that he couldn't remember the last time he saw him smile. "First we're all murderers out to get you, now you 'can't lose me too'. Typical Jon."

It's the last time Jon remembers hearing the joke, when it wasn't one anymore.

He's forced to concede the words some measure of truth, because he's been awake for two and a half weeks and all he can think of is Martin and the others, and how to protect-

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jon blinks.

He... doesn't remember giving anyone at the Institute his new address. They're not going out -can't go out- anyways, so it's unlikely to be them.

He guesses Helen could bring them in if she wanted, but the Distortion doesn't need any buzzers when it could open a door directly into Jon's living room.

So probably someone who wants to kill him.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

They... don't seem to be giving up.

He should probably find a way to go out before they break in. Only he's in a fourth story flat, so that really only leaves the fire escape.

One way or the other, he has to do something before one of his neighbors goes to check. At least he can't die so easily now.

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jon sighs, before pushing and pulling and finally getting off the sofa and over to the panel by the door.

He presses the button to speak to whoever it is downstairs.

"Hello?" he asks. Has he always sounded this tired?

"It's me. Let me in," says a grainy voice through the intercom, and Jon feels his eyebrows climb up his forehead.

After he walked out of his office a week or so ago, he never thought he'd be hearing of Gerry Keay again.

The voice at the back of his head -it's not really a voice so much as a tight bundle of Knowledge that sometimes feeds Jon with thoughts and instincts that aren't his own- wants him to open the door.

Gerry was a gift for him, and there can be more if he plays along. Tim could be back. Daisy even. Sasha. It makes no sense to refuse what the Watcher has gotten for him, he deserves it, for stopping the Unknowing, for saving the world.

Martin's slight frown flashes in his mind, and Jon's finger freezes on its way towards the button to open the door.

This would be giving in, wouldn't it?

And all Martin is doing, all he's going through will be for nothing if- Okay, Jon's not so egotistical as to actually think Martin is placing himself in danger just for his sake, but... But if he's fighting, if he hasn't given in, then Jon can't either. Jon can't-

BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Jon groans, and pushes the button. Martin will have to forgive him.

Gerry looks a right mess when John opens the door to the flat. His hair falls in lifeless strings by the sides of his sunken in cheeks, his clothes hanging off his frame like-

"Have you been eating?" Jon asks. The compulsion leaves a metallic aftertaste in his mouth, and Gerry gives him an unimpressed look.

"No. I've had snacks and stuff, but I don't get hungry anymore. Don't sleep much either." He shakes his head a little. "You don't need to compel me for that. Besides, I'm not the one who just woke up from a coma. Let me tell you, it shows."

Jon feels his face heat up lightly. It's not that he's purposefully not taking care of himself. It's just… he only really feels well when at the Archives, at least in a physical sense.

"Well, at least I've got an excuse," Jon crosses his arms over his chest. "So you don't need food or sleep anymore?"

Gerry only deigns to give him a shrug before going to sit on his sofa, leaving Jon standing there like an idiot in front of an open door.

"Do you?" Gerry asks from the sofa as Jon closes the door. "Your sofa smells like an old lady."

Jon shifts a little on his feet. Gerry's sitting on the center of the couch, knees spread wide and arms thrown over the backrest, leaving absolutely no space for Jon to sit. There used to be an armchair, but the landlord took it out before Jon moved in with some commentary about getting it reupholstered -Jon Knows he actually just took it back to his house, because it's very comfortable and he's wanted it for a while- and never brought it back.

After a moment, Jon sits on the coffee table, and when he looks back up he finds Gerry's staring straight at him, unblinking and with a raised eyebrow.

"What?" Jon frowns, flinching back a little as Gerry leans forward, shifting to rest his elbows on his knees.

"What else did it tell you? Gerry asks. "About me?"

"N- nothing!" Jon purses his lips shut and by some miracle manages to not avert his gaze.

"Jon, I admire your dedication to lying badly, but I have a feeling you're literally killing me right now." Gerry leans even further forward, now well and truly into Jon's space. The many metallic bits and pieces in his face catch the light coming from above in a very interesting way, and Jon chooses to focus on that instead of- Gerry's hand wraps around Jon's jaw, tilting his face up. "Focus."

"That's very unnecessary..." Jon pushes out through squished cheeks and lips.

It's... been a while since anyone's touched him. Even more since he's been touched without harmful intent.

He'd almost forgotten it was a possibility.

"I need to know, Jon. Please tell me the truth." Gerry's eyes are very intense this up close, and Jon has a second to think that maybe he finds the eye contact so unnerving because no one looks at him directly anymore, too scared of what he could see if they give him the chance. These eyes don't look scared. They look tired and pained, a perfect middle between green and blue that Jon doesn't think he's seen before. "Why did the Watcher bring me here?"

And he lets go of him slowly, softly. Like Jon is a wild animal he needs to keep from bolting.

He considers lying -badly, it seems- for about a moment. But the man before him has never done him that disservice, not even when Jon held his entire existence in the palm of his hand, and could've denied him his rest.

"It was... the Eye brought you back for me," Jon says after a moment that he wishes could've been longer. He feels disgusted even as the words leave his mouth, another confession to another slight against another person that deserves so much more than the life they're trapped in. "Some sort of- a present. Melanie wasn't too off the mark. It meant to entice me into serving."

Gerry makes a low, contemplative noise, and Jon looks up to find him worrying at the ring that wraps around his bottom lip.

It does not escape his attention, how not surprised he looks.

"You already knew?" Jon asks, frowning. Why isn't he more... upset? Tim would definitely have tried to deck him by now.

Gerry stops biting at his lip and lifts a broad shoulder in a lazy shrug. "I had the suspicion, but I settled on it when I realized your voice gives me strength," he says. "And not in like the nice inspirational way, I think I was about to die again when you started talking to Doris."

Jon blinks.

"My- when I what?"

"It's polite to remember the names of your neighbors, Jon" Gerry rolls his eyes, still much too calm for the kinds of truths he's revealing. "She's got a great cardigan. Would suit you actually, if you wore bright colors. You rock the octogenarian look alread-"

"Gerry that was just now! You should've- that's why you look so bad!" And now that he knows about it, he can see the effect of his words on Gerry. His skin looks less clammy, his eyes brighter, his cheeks less sunken and Jon feels disgusted. The Eye brought back a man who fought for a sliver of freedom his entire life, and it bound him to Jon in the absolute worst way. "Why- how come you're so... So okay with this?"

"How can you not be?" Gerry arches an eyebrow at him. "I literally cannot go away from you for too long, and you get a free sucker you can throw at the monsters."

"That's not what I want at all!" Jon exclaims, almost tripping over his words in his haste to get them out. "I didn't ask for- you can't possibly believe I would want-" Jon's voice grows weaker with every word, until he's left gesturing meekly at the space between the two of them.

Gerry's gaze on him feels almost searing, the weight of his judgement bearing down on Jon as the silence stretches by. Jon thinks of apologizing. This one in particular wasn't his fault, but hadn't Melanie said so? Everything happens because of him, every death and every wound a means to get him where the Beholding wants him.

He's just opened his mouth, when Gerry snorts and lets out a bark of laughter.

"Oh man, you should see your face," he says after the initial burst, and Jon's head whips up mouth agape to find him looking down at him in amusement. "Nah, I know it's not your fault. These things... they work in their own ways. You gotta roll with the punches, then find a way to punch back harder."

"I-" Jon stops talking so abruptly he nearly bites his tongue off, when a heavy hand lands on his head and messes his hair; like it needs any help.

It occurs to him that he never expected Gerry to be this... tactile. Maybe because he never expected to see him in a way that would allow contact, or because of the whole goth, aloof persona.

"Wipe that look off your face, come on," Gerry says once he stops assaulting him, and he drops down on his back, swinging his legs over the sofa's armrest like he owns the damned place. "You're making me feel like I killed your puppy. Do you have a statement lying around? I could still use a pick-me-up."

Jon stays there for a second, watching him in shock. Another thing he didn't expect Gerry to be was optimistic. Kind. It's weird to remember that under the cynicism, the snark and the eyeliner is the man that saw a young woman marked by the Lonely, and put his life on hold to try and give her the tools to survive.

"Uh- Ok. Yes, I have one." He gets up from the coffee table to find his briefcase, wherever he left it. "Are you sure this is alright?"

"It's not. But you've got to know by now it could always be worse." Gerry shifts on the sofa, burrowing more comfortably on the loose stuffing and letting out puffs of lavender.

"That's... not reassuring." Jon comes back with the statement on hand, and hears the click of a tape recorder switching on somewhere in the room. Gerry's now taking the entire sofa for real, so he sits back on the coffee table after a moment's hesitation.

"Didn't think so. Do you do the voices too? Gertrude said it was an Archivist thing, but I always thought she was just dramatic." Gerry crosses his arms under his nape, and Jon is quite lucky his eyes are closed like he's about to hear a bedtime story, because otherwise he'd see his face flushing again. Maybe taking AmDram classes is part of the requirements to be an Archivist. "Give me the spook, Jon."

Jon rolls his eyes, before clearing his throat. Gerry does look a bit healthier, and he knows from experience how replenishing a statement can be. If this can make things a bit better... then it's worth it.

"Statement of Pamela Moreno, regarding a visit to her childhood home...."

[composereggwrites]

Love will not break your Heart (but dismiss your Fears)

Chapter 2: just let me go (we'll meet again soon)

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Rating: T

Characters/Ships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims, Georgie Barker/Melanie King, Alice “Daisy” Tonner/Basira Hussain, Gerard Keay, Gertrude Robinson

Additional: Reincarnation AU, Soul Bond, Team as Family, Autistic Jon, Post-Canon Fix-it, Childhood Friends, Hurt/Comfort

They stand in the Panopticon, fire raining down from the sky, as the Eye stares down at them.

Jon takes Martin’s hand in his.

A wedding, a death, a fire, and Tim.

Chapter:  1 | 2 (below)

Ao3: 1 | 2

They stand in the Panopticon, fire raining down from the sky, as the Eye stares down at them.

Jon takes Martin’s hand in his.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Martin?” he asks, one last time, because fear has made a home in his heart. A palace in his bones.

“Jon,” Martin says, looking him in the eyes, so full of determination, filled with warmth, with love. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Sap,” he mutters, but a smile creeps onto his face nonetheless. “We’ve already left the message for the girls, and well… This is really it, isn’t it?”

“Got cold feet?” Martin asks with a laugh.

“Always,” he snorts. “You’ve felt them when we’ve slept. You’re the space heater between the two of us.”

Heart beating in his chest, Jon takes Martin’s hands. The world is crumbling in every direction. A year of this hell has been far too long. Searching, aching for answers, for a way to fix the devastation he has wrought-- no, the devastation Jonah Magnus used him to usher into the world.

Jonah Magnus, who, like the rest of the institute, is no more than a pile of ash at their feet now. Martin had been quite happy to have the honor of setting that blaze.

It’s touching, in a way. Finding the answer on how to set them both free, and Martin chooses to do it for him. No more ash on Jonathan’s hands.

(He’s more than a little fragile, at the end of the world, but he could’ve been the one to do it. The one to bring Magnus to the ground. That he didn’t have to means more than he can express with words. Martin has always been looking out for him, even when he was too much a fool to realize).

The Web’s strings hang heavy in the air around them, coated with the remnants of their old life, of their meeting. But the Mother of Puppets doesn’t have control of all these ties. Jon’s body is linked to everything now, the perfect conduit of fear. The lynch-pin in this hellscape. Take him out, and the rest crumbles. The issue is in managing to kill a near-immortal Archive.

Martin has always been his anchor. He never needed that rib, Jon gets that now. And this is something they can use. Here.

“Martin, I love you,” Jon starts. “You keep me grounded. When I start to fall apart, you hold me together. Even as I dealt with the end of the world rather badly, you drew me back out of my shell. I promise to be at your side forever more, I promise to return the favor. You are not just a caretaker, you deserve to be taken care of, and I will be there for you. I am here, with you, as we stand, united.”

Martin is already tearing up, as his hands shake in Jon’s grasp. “Jon,” he says, with a waver in his voice. “I love you. I know, it was a long time coming. Back when we were both researchers, I thought I could ignore this little crush, because that’s what it was. But you’re so kind, underneath that abrasive exterior. You pretended that nothing could get to you, that you at most tolerated the people around you, but I could see through that.”

He takes a shuddering breath. “I’m with you, until the end of time. I tie myself to you like I’ve done a hundred thousand times before, in less words. In actions. Every step we take together has brought us here, bound to each other at the end of the world, and I wouldn’t do this any other way.”

The strings around them pull taught, smash them together. Jon clings to Martin. Holds him tight as the web holds them tighter. It hurts, the Eye observing this, burning through them as he clings for dear life, but observation just makes it real. The Web tries to resist, but Jon pulls harder, pulls the strings of his own design, and lets them bind.

A thousand stars scream in the sky, but the roar of the still-burning fire is louder. The pounding of his heart in his ears louder still. Or maybe that’s Martin’s. He can’t really tell anymore, as their hearts beat to the same tune, in the same time.

As the pain dies down, he can feel Martin, there in his chest. An ache subdued by his presence at his side. A new hole carved and filled with love, with his anchor.

Jon laughs, hysterical, for just a second. Tears on his cheeks until Martin puts his hands on his shoulders, steadying him.

“Ready for the next step?” Martin asks, worry flooding his voice, and oh, he can feel that in his heart. All the concern for him, bubbling over the edges of the pot. It makes him gasp, legs trembling, and all he can do is grip Martin back. It’s all he can do to not drown in the Tsunami of Martin, the whirlpool with them both at the center.

“Give--Give me a second, yeah?” he whispers. “Don’t tell me when.”

“Oh,” Martin replies, no doubt feeling the outpouring of gratitude. “Yeah, alright.”

They hold each other. Letting the waves of emotion crash down, drowning out the fear, out the pain. Held close together. This is what matters.

Then--

Pain.

Sharp, biting pain. Driven into his chest.

Blood meets his lips as he coughs, his own sharpened rib embedded in his heart, by Martin’s trembling hand.

As Jonathan Sims falls, he holds Martin’s hand, and wishes he could muster the energy to wipe those tears away.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers,  as the door in his mind becomes a vacuum, sucking all the fear out of him, waves of love and safety and peace replacing the frostbite of terror. “We’ll meet again, yeah?”

Martin nods. He sits down by Jon, and kisses him, ignoring the iron taste. Ignoring the poison that he takes from Jon’s mouth.

The fire closes in, and consumes them. But there is no fear. No pain.

The world bends.

 Good cows stand in a field, and no Eye bears down from the sky. No people scream in terror on that day.

Four bodies are found dead in The Magnus Institute, and the world dreams of a year that never happened. A year of fear and pain burying itself deep in their hearts.

A year that will never come to pass.

 And Jonathan Barker-King wakes up.

---

Jonathan has always been an odd child.

Georgie and Melanie knew this when adopting him.

But that doesn’t change the fact that one night, when he’s twelve years old, Melanie can feel him shaking her awake.

She rolls over, facing him. “Mm, what is it?” she murmurs, knowing the shaky hands as someone who is afraid.

Jon’s voice is heavy, edged with static, and Melanie wishes she could see his face, as he says, “There will be fire. We need to leave.”

That gets her out of bed, kicking Georgie awake.

“Mel, what’s wrong?” her wonderful, sleepy wife groans.

“Up up up, now! Phone Basira, tell her we don’t know how much time we all have, but we need to go.” She tries to keep her voice level, urgent but hushed.

It gets Georgie up, at least. Springing to her feet. “I’ll get the emergency bags. Fuck. Alright. Guess it couldn’t last forever.”

Melanie makes sure she’s holding Jon’s hand, as she leads him back to his room, digging out the always-packed travel bag hidden there. Filled with clothes and food and money, and for him, some books he’s shoved into it. “Pack up your laptop and anything else you want that will fit, alright?” she says, soft.

“Got it, mom,” he replies. “Go take care of what you need to. I’ll be out in five minutes. That’s the plan, yeah?”

She nods at him. “Very intelligent, you are.”

And then she dashes, grabbing her own bags and the keys, tossing them all in the trunk of the car. Important documents, keepsakes she knows they wouldn’t be able to bear losing, anything irreplaceable. From the the meowing coming from the back seat, it sounds like Georgie had managed to catch The Admiral and bundle him into the cat carrier, too. The stubborn old cat refused to die of old age or illness, but Desolation’s flames might be enough to do the trick, and none of them would want to risk it.

There’s sounds from the house next door, and that reassures her that Daisy and Basira are up now, no doubt going through the same protocol they’d set in place for just this event. Hopefully it’s a fluke, but they can’t take that chance.

If it’s the past coming back to haunt them, with fire and flames, then they can’t afford to wait.

In ten minutes Georgie is at the wheel, and the car roars to life. Basira is getting the last of the Hussain-Tonner bags in their car, Martin bundled away in the back no doubt.

“Can I say goodbye?” Jon whispers, and Melanie sighs.

“Sorry, kiddo, but we gotta go.” She reaches out, holding his hand between the seats, as they peel out, headed far away.

He’s quiet, solemn. After five minutes of quiet, he sighs. “That’s alright. I’ll see him again, someday.”

“Yeah, no doubt about that,” she whispers back.

The next morning, their houses are on the news, as they watch in their hotel room, a hundred miles away. A fire, a roaring blaze, arson. But no bodies to be found.

“It was Jude, no doubt,” whispers Georgie, while Jon is fast asleep.

She nods. “Guess we tested our luck too long, staying in one place like that. If Jon hadn’t… Known. Then we might’ve been dead by now.”

“I’m worried,” Georgie sighs. “About him, about Martin. They-- We’re right, yeah? They saved the world together, and it involved a soulbond. They were both absolutely miserable before they saw each other that first time.”

Leaning her head on her wife, Melanie says, “Yeah, but… We’ll just have to make do, for now. Keep an eye out on them both. I think it might be a good idea to keep them separate, no contact, otherwise they’ll be sneaking out to the car some day and meeting each other halfway.”

Georgie snorts. “That’s absolutely something this Jon here would do. We’ve really spoiled him, huh?”

“From what I understand, we’ve been parenting just fine,” she says back, a roll of her unseeing eyes. “It’s his grandma who gave him all that childhood trauma last time. And a Leitner, what the fuck? How do you let an eight year old get his hands on one of those?”

That gets a full blown laugh. “Yeah, alright, you’re right. We’ve probably fucked him up somehow, but he’s not nearly as fucked up as when either of us first met him. Man, he needed some intensive therapy.”

---

Tim Stoker looks at the new-hire one time, and after the thought of I’m going to flirt with him so much passes through his head, another pops in of, wait that’d be weird--

Why?

He stares. Jonathan, the name tag reads, and why is that so familiar?

“Welcome aboard the library crew, my man!” He says out loud, giving a casual grin. “What’s a pretty boy such as yourself doing here?”

“You’re quite the flirt, Tim,” he says back with a laugh. “Sorry, not in the market right now. I’m not really… I’m not interested, mostly.”

He holds up his hands. “Hey, all cool, no worries, Jonny-boy.”

That gets a snort. “Call me Jon, nothing like that, please.”

“Got it, boss. Still haven’t answered my question,” he says.

“Oh, well…” Jon takes out a pen from his pocket, and twists it around his fingers, spinning to and fro. “I’m going to be working down in the archives, mostly. Gertrude’s taking me on as an… Well, an intern, I guess? Assistant? It pays decent, and it’s my chosen field, so… It’s a good chance.”

Tim nods. Opportunistic. Not many people get to work with good ole’ Gerty. “She works in the paranormal department yeah? That oughta be fun.”

“Parapsychology, specifically,” he says back. “With a focus currently in the not-apocalypse. Lots of info on that still to be gathered.”

“So you’re interested in spooky stuff, awesome!” Tim laughs. “You gotta tell me all the weird things. We should do a scary movie night sometime together.”

Jon stares at him, as if trying to piece together some mysterious puzzle. With big eyes, intense eyes, meeting his, looking into him, in a way that he hasn’t felt since--since--

A nasty migraine is forming in the back of Tim’s head.

Jon looks away.

“Sure, why not? You're off shift now, though, right? You should get to your class.”

“How did you--?” he starts to ask, but Jon has already descended the stairs into the archives.

 The pain doesn’t go away, as he makes his way through math. It’s all numbers and easy problems. A blur as the teacher speaks, and he can’t focus. There’s something he’s forgetting. A nagging sense at the back of his mind, and he’d ask Sasha, or his roommate Martin for some help, except that seems like a very bad idea right now. He doesn’t know why. But it does.

Crashing onto his bed as soon as he gets back to his dorm is the best idea. Martin will assume he’s been out having fun, and he can sleep this stabbing agony off.

 It almost works, too.

 Fire, fire, so much fire.

Danny--who is Danny?-- Danny dead. The world a mess. Revolving around him in Stranger ways.

Falling apart.

Sasha is Not Sasha. Jonathan Sims is a Monster.

Martin is a stubborn fool.

The world blurs.

Explosions ring in his ears.

 Tim Stoker r e m e m b e r s . . .

 Shooting upright with a gasp, Tim stumbles out of bed. It had only been a few hours, but if anything the migraine has gotten worse.

He runs to the toilet, puking up whatever's in his stomach from that morning. Dizzy as another wave of nausea hits.

“Fuck,” he mutters.

There’s a knock on the door, and Martin -- Martin Blackwood, Martin Hussain-Tonner, fucking Martin -- is there, asking if he’s okay, in that kind way he always has.

“Yeah--” his voice cracks. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Just some bad food.”

“Alright,” comes the reply. “Let me know if you need some help.”

“Got it,” he croaks. And then he’s alone.

Sitting on the cold tile, he holds his head in his hands, groaning.

He needs to contact someone.

Who?

Jon--? No. Not Jon, not yet. It was Jon’s presence that did this to him, no doubt, but he didn’t seem to actually know Tim.

Gertrude, maybe?

Fuck it, Gertrude it is. He has her number, she’s his boss, after all.

^Hey, Gerty, I think my head just died. Absolutely exploded with pain. Not coming in tomorrow.^

Not the most formal, but she hasn’t minded before.

^Well, I hope you feel better, Tim. Remember to check in if you’re staying out too long. It’ll be a circus here, otherwise, if we’re understaffed.^

“Fuck,” he hisses out again, because she definitely remembers. And she knows what happened.

^Mind filling me in on how the circus is doing?”

^They’re all in bits and pieces. It was quite the display, or so I hear. I have the tapes, if you want to listen to them.^

Of course she does.

^Sure, I’ll grab them on my next shift, sound good?^

^See you then. Feel better, Tim.^

 He does.

Looking at Sasha now, it’s bizarre. A deep pit in his stomach, knowing he forgot her, believed the Not!Sasha had been her for so long. It doesn’t sit right.

As he makes his way down the steps to the archive, he finds her following. A few feet before the door, he turns to look at her.

“Need to speak to Gertrude too?”

She blinks, crossing her arms. “If I do, it’s none of your business.”

A snort escapes him. “Learning how to be abrasive from our lovely head archivist?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.

“You know, he wasn’t really that bad. I mean, I totally got killed during the worm thing, so whatever you went through, I guess I still need to find out, but… He was trying his best,” she says, nonchalant as she picks at her fingers.

“Did seeing him give you the worst migraine of two lives too, then?”

“Absolutely. I thought I was dying. Turns out I had!”

They both start to laugh. He bumps his shoulder against her. “God I missed ya, Sash. Things went whack without you there.”

“Did the two lovebirds ever manage to work out their problems?” she asks, rolling her eyes.

“Not before I got exploded! Shit got weird. Honestly, you missed a lot of stuff. I--Well I’d fill you in, but whatever tapes Gertrude has will probably do that for me,” Tim says, gesturing back to the door.

“Listening party?” Sasha suggests, as she steps forward to open it.

“Sure, maybe the trauma of listening to our own deaths will be easier with a friend and some good wine. Gotta be at your place though, cuz Martin doesn’t know.” He steps in with her.

Gertrude looks at them, a box set on the empty chair. “Take it, have fun. I believe it’ll do the job enough to fill you in.”

“Thanks Gerty! We’ll get them back to ya’ when we’re done!” Tim says, giving a wave as Sasha scoops up the box. He can feel her hatred of the nickname, but it’s far too late to stop him from using it now.

 They pick up on tape 39, conveniently labeled in order by Gertrude no doubt, for Sasha’s sake.

It’s awful.

She’d been spared the paranoia, the depths Jon had been plunged into.

They stop on tape 50, for the night. It hurts too much to keep going.

---

Jon wakes up from his nightmare.

Shaking, terror coursing through his veins. Memories he can’t remember. He’s not a fool.

Reincarnation was part of what he’d studied, while looking into parapsychology. No conclusive evidence, of course, that’s impossible to get. Almost everything presented as esoteric is false. The most true subjects tend to involve the apocalypse, and even then, it’s not a sure shot.

But they always involve dreams. Dreams of memories. Past lives mean past memories, trying to find their way to the present.

And his dreams have been getting worse.

But that’s ridiculous, right? Utterly ridiculous. He’s being superstitious. Gullible. There’s never been proof of reincarnation adequately presented. To think he had a past life is to give into the folly of the people he criticizes.

(He knows, deep in his soul, that some things are true. He can’t discount everything.

But there’s no need to let this knowledge consume him.)

Jon sighs, sitting up. It wouldn’t do to dwell on this, not when he has a test today that he needs to last-minute cram for.

His phone lights up by his side, though, and he picks it up. Blinking blearily at the screen in confusion before yesterday hits him.

^Hey Jon! Good morning! How are you doing?^

From the contact of Martin!!

A smile spreads over his face, dragging him out of bed and through his morning routine. Food. Toothbrushing. Clothes. Heading out for his class early, instead of almost late for once.

^I’m good, Martin. I have a test today, soon. Going to study for that. How about you?^

The reply comes almost instantly, which drops a small pit in his stomach, because martin’s first text had been two hours before Jon had gotten up.

^I’m good too! Thanks for asking! I’m working on an essay right now, but nothing super important.^

^Well, don’t let me keep you from your work.^ He’d feel bad if he were the reason Martin got a bad grade. It’d be awful.

^Nah, I don’t really need to worry about this class. I’m passing with a 96% right now, and I’m one of the only people who talks in class. Like, during the discussions and all!^

^Teacher’s pet, are you?^

Jon can picture the little laugh Martin does at this, scrunched up nose and crinkled eyes. ^Better than failing, that’s for sure. You’re absolutely someone who sits in the back of the class and does his best to avoid conversation, though, aren’t you?^

He chuckles, smiling. Then he rubs his neck, glancing around as he walks to make sure no one is staring. There’s the usual bustle of people, but no one looking at him. Just leaves falling in the breeze, and the nip of the autumn air. He’s good, so far, but it’d be dangerous to keep this up inside.

(He might not care, because this is Martin. Self-consciousness be damned.)

^Yeah, you’ve got me pinned.^ he says back.

^I hide behind my laptop screen whenever I can, studiously take notes, and never talk to another living soul if I can avoid it.^

^Wow, what a nerd :P^

^Can’t believe my best friend is a nerd :P^

Jon has to take a second to pause, sigh, and roll his eyes, because Martin, please. ^You mean the same friend who would spend hours recounting books he’d read to you in perfect detail? Or the friend who once asked their teacher for more homework because he was bored? That friend?^

^Absolutely.^

^What a shock.^

^I’ve been completely betrayed by your sudden nerdom that has arisen in the past 11 years that I have totally never encountered before.^

That tugs a full-fledged laugh out of Jon, and he has to duck onto a less-used path behind a building to hide for a full minute, because Jonathan Sims does not randomly laugh at his phone in public.

When the coast is clear, he keeps walking, and slips into the building with the ease of someone whose had classes in it for three years already. He navigates to his classroom and takes his (unofficial) seat in the back, pulling out his notes and pretending like he’s studying, not thinking about Martin.

^I feel like I’m not the only nerd in this conversation.” The text sends as a quick reply, and then he follows it up with: ^Also, in class now. Going to study. Chat later?^

^Of course! Let me know when you’re free! See ya :D^

He rubs his face, setting his phone to silent and in his bag, trying to scrub away the blush that must be rising to his cheeks.

Martin is… So Martin.

Over the past decade Jon had wanted so much to reconnect with his old friend. An ache in his chest, screaming until all he knew was the noise, yearning to find him. Fixated on the missing piece until the misery became background radiation in his life, his new normal. Settled deep in his bones. Uncomfortable weight buried in his skin, just enough to fade into his usual, everyday pain. There, but not the focus.

 (Not usually. There were some days, some nights, where the loss of Martin dug its claws in. His body full of hooks and they pulled. As if trying to tug him closer. Back to Martin.

He almost followed it, a few times. Deep in his mind, a haze of the gaping hole, guiding his feet onto an unknown path. But he never went far. Always turned around and walked back home. His moms raised him well, he knows better than to be alone.

College the first year was scary. Terror welling in his throat. New people, new places. Too many unknowns.)

 One small, niggling little voice in Jon’s head, a voice filled with the needles of anxiety, had tried to tell him that Martin wouldn’t be the same. That if they ever reunited, Martin wouldn’t care about him. Or maybe, maybe the years had warped his thoughts, his understanding of who his friend was. An idealized image instead of the real person.

But he also remembers Martin fretting over him when Jon fell ill. Spending the night out of worry, sneaking in through his window to bring him medicine at midnight.

He remembers Martin listening as Jon rambled, and then rambling in turn. Jon knows so much about spiders to this day, because Martin had found a book and read all about it to him.

He remembers the poetry, still scrawled in notebooks and on pieces of paper he refused to throw away. Packed into that bag as from the fire they escaped.

That voice in his head never held any real sway.

But it’s nice to be proven right, for a change.

[aneilert]

The One With Everything [MAG158: Panopticon]

This episode was delayed almost 20 hours, sending the whole early-access-community into a gradually deafening frenzy even before it launched. And then it took off for real. 

The rest of the day has been a bit of a blur, to be honest, and if I’ve done anything not connected to relistening and speculating, then at least I can guarantee that neither my brain nor my heart was involved in it.

It’s hard to be eloquent when faced with this much content. I have raved elsewhere about the quality as well as the sheer quantity of content this episode can boast, but I’d like at least to post my List of Things We Had Expected, Hoped For and/or Dreaded and that happened, were confirmed or who returned in this episode:

1. Tim mention and grief

The fandom has never stopped grieving Tim Stoker, and every once in a while, someone will sigh about how they miss him and how much they wish his death would be at least mentioned on the show. Did he have no impact? Have they forgotten him? Well, canon has spoken: They have not. 

2. Not!Sasha coming back

I can honestly say I never spent much time on the theories that muttered about how she had been enclosed in the tunnels and probably still was there. My bad. I will certainly never again forget the old rule that if someone (or something) doesn’t die on camera (as it were), they’re not dead. (And fuck were those amazing voice distortions!)

3. Leitner’s book coming back

Don’t forget where you put your evil book. It might not be there anymore when you come back for it a year or two later. (The blood on it, btw? Also Leitner. That bit was hilarious. I despise Peter, but he has brought some of the funniest lines this season; «In my defence, it’s still quite funny» is my personal favourite.)

4. Elias escaping prison

We didn’t think anything was keeping him there longer than he wanted to, and we were right; it was just a matter of timing. He would never want to come sneaking back if he could be making an Entrance.

5. Jonah!Elias

Probably the most popular fan theory (apart from those concerning various ships) is canon. And what a deliciously disturbing visual it is; Jonah Magnus’ eyeless body aging in the Panopticon while his eyes do what they have always done: watch over his Institute. Never has Elias sounded more smug and delighted with himself than in this episode, and you know what? Much as I hate him, I’d say he’s earned it.

6. Elias/Peter meeting

Trust fandoms to make feverish ships built out of characters who have never interacted in canon. And boy, do the LonelyEyes shippers feel vindicated today! Not only did the two horrible old men finally interact, but their dynamic was revealed to be exactly that of an old, dysfunctional and probably multiple times divorced couple. Even Jonny said so. 

7. Martin having A Plan / having played Peter

We love Martin and worry about Martin, and we have been extremely worried about his latest signs of being fully on board (sic) with Peter’s nebulous plan. Is he that naïve? Is he that far gone? Or … is he playing Peter? Is he weaving his own little web, like in the previous season, when he managed to play Elias?

The truth, as so often, is a place in between. He has been playing Peter (and God was that an amazing reveal and a heart-rending speech! And Christ was Elias gleeful when he reminded Peter that he had been warned not to underestimate Martin, but that he still did it!), but he has also been joining the Lonely. There is something to be said for being able to keep distance, I guess. Even though it makes me heartsick.

8. Tape with Gertrude’s death and last confrontation with Elias

This is something I have been wanted for some time now. Gertrude is awesome and marvellous and badass and truly scary, and I have been wondering: did her hubris kill her? How did Elias take her down? What happened? 

Well, now we know. Or … we know part of it. Gertrude’s body had three shots fired in it, but the tape only contained one. And the tape was numbered #0182509-A, hinting at possibly a B existing somewhere. Maybe we haven’t heard the last from Gertrude yet?

Also: How very satisfying it was to see that Gertrude had basically the same plan as Martin: Burn some Institute stuff to keep Elias from seeing the real threat! I love what this says about Elias’ complacency and underestimation when it comes to Martin (but I worry what yet another parallel with Gertrude might bode for his future …).

9. Peter taking Martin into the Lonely

The premise of a lot of fics. Can’t wait to see how it plays out in canon.

10. Hunters returning at an inopportune moment

We all, including Jon and the gang, knew they were out there and that it was just a matter of time. Still fun! (Particularly Trevor yelling JONNY BOY!)

11. Daisy going feral

Oh, this is hard; she wanted so much to be free of the Hunt. But honestly: this is why she was brought back, whether she (or Jon) knew it or not: To reconnect with her humanity, and then to give it up willingly to save her friends. And, why not, to have the savage joy of ripping out a few more throats while she’s at it. 

Will Basira honour their promise? Well, that’s a tale for another day, as the story says. For now, let’s just enjoy the amazing sound distortion on Daisy’s breath, her voice and finally her growl. Daisy scared fucking Julia Montouk, and not many can boast that.

12. Jon and Elias talk

It’s been a long time coming. It was not at all what I had expected in any way, but it was amazing. And Jon hardly even noted what Elias was saying or how he gloated, because he was 100 % focused on …

13. Jon following Martin into the Lonely

Of course he did. Of course. He went into the Buried to get Daisy, and he didn’t even like Daisy, and she tried to kill him. Of course there’s no limit anymore to how much he will risk himself for a tiny sliver of hope that he might save Martin.

I worry so for them, though. Martin has refused Peter’s plans, true enough, but he has not refused the Lonely. He has been sliding into Forsaken for Jon’s sake, but he has still been sliding into Forsaken! And Jon’s journey into monsterdom is if anything even more worrying and harder to reverse.They have both been trying desperately and without any real clue as to how to save the world for each other’s sake, but what have they given up along the way? 

Still. Jon clawed his way out of the Buried fuelled by Martin and by the signal from his rib. Who’s to say it might not work a second time?

Also: the one person we didn’t meet who I almost had expected, was Annabelle. Someone must have put this last tape on Jon’s desk – and someone must also, long ago, have given him that lighter that he never can focus on long enough to remember he has. Is there a silvery Web thread connected to it, where it lies in his pocket? Could he be able to follow that thread out again?

I have no idea. I also have no idea how I am supposed to wait for the next two episodes. Or how my head felt before this podcast ate my entire brain. 

[centaurianthropology]

The Magnus Archives ‘Nemesis’ (S04E17) Analysis

A Gertrude statement! Hooray!  And a historical statement!  Double hooray!   Come in to hear what I have to say about ‘Nemesis.’

It’s fun to get another mention of the Pu Songling Research Center, the Magnus Institute’s sister in China, which apparently was there at least as far back as the 1950s.  Probably older than that, too, though I do wonder if these institutes didn’t come in waves.  If we think that the Alexandria Archive was one wave, and whatever was happening in Schwartzwald was another, likely stopped and squashed after failing the Watcher’s Crown, then I would imagine things go dormant again until the old site is rediscovered and some curious soul becomes the new incarnation of the Archivist or whatever it is that Jonah Magnus became.  If that’s the case, it stands to reason that the Pu Songling Research Center would have cropped up shortly after the Magnus Institute.

Or perhaps different centers of the Beholding’s power are on totally different time tables.  Less a coordinated effort, and more each a distinct cell, all working toward the same goal.  It seems like there is only one Archivist at a time, though, which might make the Chinese and American branches less powerful?  I don’t know.

Anyway, back to the statement.  I find it interesting that various powers seem tied with various forms of expression. Again and again, the Slaughter is tied to music.  The Stranger is tied to dance, the Beholding to stories, the Web to modern forms of entertainment like film and the internet, the Spiral to sculpture … there are mediums each power seems to work through with the greatest ease.  And the fact that the Slaughter works through song is very interesting to me.  It’s probably tied to battlefield hymns and marching songs, but still.

The Nemesis herself is also interesting.  She was an iron warship out of Britain that fought in the First Opium War, and was launched in 1839.  She was a privateer (a ship not technically in the Royal Navy, but provided with a letter of marque which allowed a private ship to engage in wartime activities).  She had two steam engines, and was built to be able to sail up the rivers in China. She was referred to by the Chinese as the ‘Devil Ship’.  She was involved in several major battles during that war, including the capture of Canton.  

After her tour in China, she was reassigned to deal with pirates in Indonesia, then after that to protect the East India Company’s factories in occupied Canton from the riots amongst the Chinese against the occupying forces.  After this, it becomes hazy what happened to the Nemesis, and at least according to Wikipedia, there is no date of decommission or destruction.

Which ties rather nicely into her becoming a vessel of the Slaughter.

And more than that, she became the center of the Risen War, the Slaughter’s ritual, which was foiled by one pacifist who got pressed into uniform because he didn’t want to disappoint his father.  I’m guessing it was his complete lack of desire to kill that kept him from falling victim to the Slaughter, and that the ritual required every one of the ‘rescued’ prisoners to fall to the murderous music.  

It’s also interesting that the crew themselves could not stop Wallis Turner from running away. They couldn’t kill him, or even make a move to prevent him boarding a skiff and scuppering their whole ritual. Which, again, feels like it ties back into the necessity of cooperation and consent.  It didn’t matter that he went along with it, or that he boarded the ship, or watched his fellows kill one another and didn’t stop it.  He simply had to have an unchanged nature.

And that’s interesting because it seems to give a good reason why so many of the rituals seem to fail on their own.  The people who perform the rituals have to embrace them entirely.  It’s probably why the ones we’ve seen Gertrude directly intervene with were rituals performed by small dedicated groups or individuals. The more people who have to be involved (particularly if it requires the embrace of potential victims or sacrifices), the less likely the ritual is to succeed, as Wallis proved.  

Or Gertrude could be right, and it could simply be a different power interfering with a bombing. I don’t know how she presumes this, but maybe she still has the same source of strange knowledge that Jon does. But I sort of like the notion, dismissed as it is, that Wallis himself prevented it.

This statement also gives an indirect estimate of Gertrude’s age as of her death in 2016.  If she was born in around 1945 (she stated that the events which prevented the Risen War took place a few years before she was born, and those events were in 1942), she would have been around 70 when she died. Maybe a bit younger or a bit older, depending on how many ‘a few years’ might be.  No younger than 69, though, given that ‘a few’ implies at least 2.  

And that was the statement. Jon seems as cast adrift by the statement as Wallis was.  He’s spending time with Daisy, who is forcing him to spend time doing ordinary things (evoking some very Jon-like loathing for The Archers).  He’s sneaking around finding ‘forbidden’ statements (and I do worry that they were planted for him to find), and mostly just seeming lost. His despairing little laugh when he mentioned he was going to have some tea was as good as a mention of Martin, and I worry that Jon doesn’t even seem to say his name much anymore.

I also worry that Jon didn’t say what he would do about the Watcher’s Crown.  Specifically, he didn’t say he wanted to stop it.  There is a deadline, yes, and he has the sense that he needs to work against it, but he doesn’t mention whether he needs to meet that deadline to prevent the ritual or to enact it.  And that worries me.  Ever since he started calling himself the Archivist without seeming to notice the change, I’ve wondered about the choice Jon made in his dream, and what it means for his motivations.  Would he stop the Beholding’s ritual?  Does he have it in him?  It’s almost certainly why Gertrude held herself so strictly apart from her role as the Archivist, rather than embracing the power as Jon has.

The question is, will he notice?  Will he resist the urge to let it happen, or to help it happen?  Or is he already too far gone to resist his own ritual in the midst of trying to stop the others?

[adambethyname-blog]

Revisiting the “Game of Thrones” Pilot, Six Seasons Later

After watching the season seven finale of “Game of Thrones” last night live and seeing how the web of seven seasons of violence, drama, sex, murder, and betrayal all wove together into an intricate web of a single coherent story, it occurred to me that I needed to go back and re-watch the entire series with that fresh knowledge in my head. 

How many hints and subtleties did I miss in the over 70 hours of programming? “Game of Thrones” does not do you any favors either. There are long breaks between seasons and you only get to digest the show an hour at a time so little details get missed or forgotten. Not to mention, there have been several major characters recast during the show which add to the confusion. I can remember on several occasions my wife saying, “Who is THAT guy?” only to find out that he was the OTHER guy from last season who was recast. 

It would take weeks to look back at the entire series and see if you can pick up every nervous face, curious glance, or sly smile so I thought I would just look at the pilot for little hints as to what was to come. How much foreshadowing was in pilot which aired April 17, 2011 titled “Winter Is Coming.” 

From the opening, white walkers were an immediate threat: It seems to be a right of passage in the Seven Kingdoms, “What did YOU do when you first saw a white walker.” We meet a handful of the Night’s Watch who venture north of the wall who come across a group of mutilated wildlings. As the group retreats to the Wall, they are hunted down by the white walkers posse which includes a child that was part of the wildling group (which always reminded me of Rick encountering the first little girl zombie in the pilot of “Walking Dead”). One member of the Watch deserts and keeps on going where he’s caught by the guards of Winterfell and Ned Stark. Apparently, Winterfell served as the goalie for the Wall. I guess it’s like the immigration checkpoint for anything fleeing southward.

Cut to Winterfell. Arya already hates Sansa:

It seems comical after the last two episodes of season seven considering how the sisters had a “who had it harder” conversation, but while Sansa is praised for her needlepoint skills, Arya looks on in disgust. She then sneaks outside and shows up Bran while he works on his archery skills with Rob Stark and Jon Snow while Ned and Caitlyn Stark look on from the balcony. 

Just like season six, no one believes the white walkers are real or a threat: Will is beheaded in front of the Stark boys, even Bran. Ned and Bran have a moment regarding the execution. Bran heard Will’s story about the white walkers. Ned replies, “The white walkers have been gone for thousands of years.” 

“So he was lying,” replies Bran, but Ned dismisses Will as a “madman.” You can tell looking at Ned’s face he has trepidation about his response so he purposely keeps it vague like he was called before a Senate subcommittee. 

FORESHADOWING! “I’m not a Stark:” As Ned and company are returning to Winterfell they come across the body of a dire wolf which we are told should not be south of the wall (the Seven Kingdoms has some immigration issues). The mother dire wolf is dead but leaves five pups where are divided amongst the Stark children (Rob, Arya, Sansa, Rickon, and Bran). Bran asks, “what about you?” to Jon who replies coldly, “I’m not a Stark.” It seemed like a throwaway line of exposition back then. 

Cut to King’s Landing, the death/murder that started the “Game:” We meet Cersei and Jamie Lannister mourning over the death of John Arryn who was Hand of the King. Jamie and Cersei are discussing John “knowing something” about the two of them and that caused his death. More on this later.

Back to Winterfell, word of John Arryn’s death reached Ned and he’s wary of a promotion: Ned is the guy who’s flying under the radar at the office with little or no responsibility and doesn’t want that promotion because he’ll draw attention to himself. We also get a glimpse of Weirwood tree which becomes integral in Bran’s transformation into the Three Eyed Raven.

We find out from Caitlyn that a “fever” took John Arryn which contradicts Cersei and Jamie’s suspicion that it was murder. She also says that the King and his entire entourage are coming North to visit. They have a look like they just got audited. Ned knows he’s going to be asked to become Hand. 

Unintended Comedy - Sansa and Joffrey Make Flirty Looks: It’s laughable now considering their twisted history, but when Joffrey rides into Winterfell with the king’s entourage, he gives Sansa a “How YOU doin’?” look…

Which Sansa returns….

Oh girl… if you only knew…..

“If your sister had, lived we would have been bound by blood,” : our first reference to Ned’s sister Lyanna who died after being kidnapped eloping with Rhaegar Targaryen. We found out that Robert was supposed to marry Lyanna but Lyanna skipped town with Rhaegar and eventually birthed Jon Snow. King Robert and Ned go to the crypt to pay homage to Lyanna and this conversation sets the stage for Robert and Ned’s houses to join - his son (Joffrey), and Ned’s daughter (Sansa). Robert says that in his dreams he “kills him every night” to which Ned remarks that the Targaryens are gone, but Robert says, “Not all of them.” 

And on cue we meet Daenerys and Viserys: Dany has come a long way since the pilot. She doesn’t even take her clothes off anymore because “feminism” or something. Her creepy brother, Viserys, takes off her dress and marvels at her “woman’s body.” After seeing the finale last night maybe incest isn’t such a big deal for the Targaryens. He talks big and warns his sister not to “wake the dragon” by not being “perfect” today which makes you laugh if you know what’s coming. The little blonde freak needed to heed his own advice. But we get a little tease about Dany when she gets into a scalding hot bathtub without flinching. 

Sansa can’t wait to get married: we can’t fault her ignorance, but she literally BEGS Caitlyn to force a marriage to Joffrey. 

We meet Uncle Benjen who rides up on Jon Snow: Benjen is the member of the NIght’s Watch who saved Jon from the white walkers in the penultimate episode of season seven. He rides into Winterfell on a weekend pass from the wall and hugs Jon who he obviously loves as a non-bastard nephew. Jon begs him to take him to the wall and make him a member of the NIght’s Watch. Jon says he doesn’t care about having a family or children. 

…and then Tyrion… : We already know the “imp” from a scene earlier that didn’t have any Easter Eggs, but Tyrion is lurking in the shadows. He calls Jon “the bastard” as if it’s an insult. The two get a long so well in later seasons. it’s funny to see their first meeting in the stables as they are both considered outcasts at a party. “Never forget what you are… wear it like armor and it can never be used as a hedge,” is the advice Tyrion gives Jon. It’s ironic considering  Jon is actually a Targaryen. “Never forget who you are.”

Not much else happens as far as foreshadowing goes. We see Dany marry Khal Drogo and we meet Ser Jonah Mormont who gives Dany a wedding gift of a bunch of books (no wonder he’s in the friend zone). Also, Dany receives three dragon’s eggs which she is told has turned to stone but are still something to look at. 

“The things we do for love,”  After the king’s hunting expedition leaves, Bran goes parkour and starts climbing the tower walls, despite promising his mother he wouldn’t and he walks in on the biggest shock of episode one. Jamie and Cersei getting it on. So this is what they thought John Arryn found out about. Jamie catches Bran, asks him his age and then says, “The things we do for love,” as he shoves Bran out the window. Ironic considering that Jamie all but threatens Cersei to kill him in the season finale of season seven for daring to suggest Cersei keep her word to the other kingdoms, yet she can’t bring herself to order the Mountain to kill Jamie despite the fact that he’s leaving King’s Landing presumably to join the battle or rat Cersei out to the other leaders. Yes, “the things we do for love” indeed. 

It was a strange trip looking at the characters in the first episode ever. Tyrion looks like an extra from “Point Break.” 

Cersei’s hair is closer to that of Princess Leia than Clair Underwood and many of the dead are still alive - one even has a penis that was lost! There’s even a sad cameo by Hodor who is standing in the background of one of the scenes makes you miss the big lug. So, winter is coming… I have a lot of TV to watch.

[haberdashing]

Open Up My Eager Eyes

TMA fic set just after MAG 168. Jon and Martin have an important talk about what once was and what might have been.

on AO3

They didn’t speak much right after Jon returned, but the tension in the air was palpable as they made their way forwards, the only sounds that of their footsteps crunching against what passed for ground here and the whispers of the dying.

Eventually, Jon couldn’t stand it anymore, so he stopped walking, turning towards Martin as he said, “Can we... let’s talk.”

“About what?” Martin’s tone was a little sharp, but he stood still as well, looking Jon in the eye as he did so.

“You know, the whole jealousy thing.”

Martin’s face tensed up, and he made a show of breaking eye contact with Jon as he said, “I think we’ve talked quite enough about that already, thanks.”

“No, not... look, we already discussed how you’re jealous of Oliver Banks for, for some reason, and how I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous of him-”

Martin scrunched up his nose in a way that would be patently adorable if he wasn’t currently trying to convince Jon to murder someone. “He’s not really a man anymore, though, is he? I mean, that’s kind of the point.”

“Martin, if just being an avatar of a fear god during, well, this, is enough for somebody to deserve getting killed in your mind... I’d like you to think a bit about what that implies about me.”

Martin blinked a few times and furrowed his brow, thinking for a few seconds in silence before letting out a long, solemn breath. “Alright, yeah, point taken.”

“Besides, if you just let me explain what actually happened, maybe you’ll understand that there’s really no reason for you to be jealous of...” Jon tried to hold back the laughter in his voice, but a bit of it sneaked through just the same as he finished, “...of Oliver Banks, of all people.”

“I mean, you did wake up for him and not for me, though. That’s just a fact.”

“It wasn’t... it wasn’t for him, is the thing. Because of him, maybe, but not for him.”

“Fine, because of him, then. But he- he still did something for you there, then. Something I clearly couldn’t.”

Jon threw his hands in the air. “Yes, because he was an avatar of death! Look, if you’re really that desperate to throw away your humanity, feel free to give Annabelle Cane a ring, I’m sure she’d be glad to hook you up-”

“Jon...”

“I... It was a joke. I was joking.” That wasn’t entirely accurate, truth be told--Jon kept wondering if that was Annabelle Cane’s endgame in all of this, recruiting Martin to her side--but that was a very different conversation to be had than the current one, and not one Jon terribly felt like delving into at the moment.

“Sure.” Martin sounded less than convinced.

“It’s not like I- I cared more about Oliver Banks than you, or anything like that, if that’s what you’re thinking! He just... let me know what I needed to do to wake up. Gave me information I had been lacking.”

“I thought you knew everything!”

“Now, maybe. And there’s still a few limits even now. But back then it... it wasn’t quite that simple.”

“So, what was this information he had and you didn’t?”

“He explained that, that what had happened... it left me trapped somewhere in between life and death-”

“You couldn’t have figured that much out for yourself?”

“Let me finish! At the time, I was... how did he phrase it... not human enough to die, but still too human to live. And I had to make a choice. Either I could pick my human side and just- just die, or I could give up on being human and wake up as a full-fledged avatar of the Beholding.”

“And you chose the latter?”

“I’m still here, aren’t I?” Jon let out a sharp bark of a laugh, looking around at the desolate, nightmarish landscape surrounding them before adding, “Knowing what I do know... I don’t think I made the right choice there.”

“Don’t say that!” Jon hadn’t been expecting the desperation in Martin’s voice, hadn’t been expecting him to reach out and clutch Jon’s arm as if he were going to fade away at any moment. “Don’t... don’t you dare say you want to die, alright?”

Martin looked like he was on the verge of tears, suddenly, and Jon pressed one hand against his cheek, ready to brush away any teardrops that might fall. “I mean, I don’t want to die now, I’m not suicidal. At this point, the damage has already been done. Dying now wouldn’t do anyone much good.”

Martin released his grip on Jon’s arm, but that sad, desperate look in his eyes remained all too present. “But you still think the world would be better off if you had died back then.”

“I mean...” Jon used his free hand to gesture towards the hellscape that surrounded them. “If I had, none of this would have happened. And the rest of the Archives staff would be free to leave, to escape from this mess. You would be free, Martin. Free to live your life without having to worry about any of this.”

“But without you.”

“Without me, and without being tied to an eldritch fear god, and without the apocalypse unfolding in front of you. That seems like more than a fair trade-off.”

Martin laughed, but it was a laugh more of sorrow than of levity, and Jon felt a single teardrop fall onto his finger. “After all this time, you still don’t get it, do you?”

“Get what?”

“None of that matters to me if you’re not there. The only reason my working with Peter Lukas became more than just- just a death wish was because you woke up, because I could see a life for myself outside of the Lonely with you. Maybe it’s selfish--no, strike that, I know it’s selfish--but I’d rather be beside you here and now than in a world where none of this happened, but you’re not there to share it with me.”

“...thank you, Martin.” Jon broke into a shaky smile. “But even if you’re fine with how things worked out, the others-”

“-are better off with you here too.”

Jon let the hand that had been pressed against Martin’s face fall to his side, tried not to focus on how it was now shaking due to some emotion he couldn’t quite name. “I don’t see how that works.”

“Alright, let’s go through this one by one. If you hadn’t woken up, Melanie would still have a- a ghost bullet from the Slaughter stuck in her leg, right?”

“That she wanted in there!”

Martin rolled his eyes. “Right, because that’s healthy. Look, I’m not saying the way you went about things was the perfect solution, but I do think it beats doing nothing and just letting her become an avatar of unthinking violence. And if you’d died, she’d have had to find another target for all that rage...”

“...fine, let’s say for the sake of argument Melanie’s better off. There’s Basira, too.”

“Basira...” Martin bit his lip for a moment the way he often did when he was deep in thought. “I’m not sure what she would have done if you had died, honestly, but I do know she wouldn’t have gotten Daisy back without you. You’re the reason she knew Daisy was in the Buried, and you’re definitely the reason Daisy got out of there.”

“Because I jumped into a coffin where the whole idea is that once you go in, you can never come out.”

“Again, not claiming it was a great plan or anything, but it did work. You saved Basira from not knowing what really happened, from mourning a woman who was still alive. And you saved Daisy from being stuck in the Buried literally forever.”

“And now she’s succumbed to the Hunt. I can’t imagine that’s much better.”

“You were down there with her. You tell me.”

Jon’s silence as he considered this was as much of a response as any words could have been.

“Basira might have stayed, too. It’s not like she had anything left outside the Archives, after all. And if she did? Maybe I would have actually gone along with Peter’s plan and killed Elias-” Jon gave Martin a look, and Martin corrected himself. “Killed Jonah Magnus, and then she would have died. Along with everybody else who works for the Institute. Rosie from the front desk, who always greets everyone with a smile? Dead. Sonja from Artefact Storage, who actually seems to accept all of this weirdness? Dead. Hannah’s children would lose their mother. Hundreds of families would be torn apart.”

“That’s still a lot less pain and suffering than I caused by reading that damn statement. You can’t claim the world wouldn’t be better off if I hadn’t done that.”

“Okay, no, I’m not gonna come out pro-apocalypse here or anything, but... think about it. Jonah Magnus was planning all of this for two hundred years. You really think he would have given up if you died?”

Jon hadn’t thought of that, and his vision blurred as he considered the implications there.

“He would’ve found another Archivist, he would’ve made them go through hell instead, and we’d end up back here soon enough. The only way he would’ve stopped is if I killed him, a-and then Peter’d have the Panopticon for whatever the hell he really wanted it for, and maybe it’s not the same, but you can’t tell me a world under Peter Lukas’ control would really be that much better.”

“...I suppose not, no.” Jon cleared his throat as he prepared to change the subject as smoothly as he could manage. “So. Oliver Banks did what he had to do, as did I, whatever the consequences. And I’m pretty sure either option of his choice would be better than being eternally stuck watching other people’s nightmares. You’ve seen for yourself that those can be... rough on me, and that’s after just one night.”

“That’s what it was like? Just- just six months of nonstop nightmares?”

And suddenly Martin’s arms were wrapped around Jon’s body, Martin tucking his head against Jon’s shoulder, and he could feel tears dampening his jumper. Jon did his best to reciprocate, to reach out to Martin in turn, and tears of his own began to fall as well.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Jon.”

“It’s fine-”

Martin looked up at Jon with a fiery gaze. “It’s not fine.”

“Well, it’s fine now. And- and maybe now you can see why I’m grateful to Oliver Banks for letting me know that I had options besides being stuck like that forever.”

“...yeah, I guess so. Though I still wish I could have been the one to help you.”

“I know you did everything you could.” Jon’s lips turned into a wry smile as he added, “I heard you, you know. The only other things I heard were statements--Oliver’s and Jonah’s, and please don’t tell me you’re going to be jealous of Jonah Magnus now-”

“Nah, I think we’ve got better reasons for killing him than that.”

“Quite.” Jon snorted. “But I heard you, at one point, too. Not a statement, of course. Just... you, talking to me. Begging me to come back. And I wanted to, I really did. But at that point, I didn’t know how.”

“...I didn’t know you heard any of that.”

“Well, we never really talked about it before. Understandably so; it’s not exactly the most pleasant of conversation topics.”

Jon leaned over, tilting his head just so before planting a kiss on Martin’s damp cheek.

“I’ve also never done that to Oliver Banks, so hopefully that will help you get over that jealousy of yours.”

Martin’s eyes were sparkling as he looked up at Jon, and only partially due to the half-formed tears still lingering in his eyes. “Hmm... I don’t know. Might need to give it a few more tries just to be sure.”

Jon raised an eyebrow as he broke into a wide grin, though he tried to keep his voice calm and level and faux-academic. “Ah, a firm believer in the scientific method. I can certainly respect that.”

And Jon kissed Martin again, and again, and again, until the kissing dissolved into a mutual fit of giggles and both their tears were well and truly gone.

[haberdashing]

No Puppet Strings Can Hold Me Down (4/?)

The Magnus Archives fanfic. An AU that diverges from canon between episodes 159 and 160, in which Peter Lukas’ statement that “he got you” takes on a different meaning.

on AO3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7

The time between leaving the Magnus Institute behind and getting on the open road felt like a blur.

They’d stopped at Martin’s flat briefly, and the flat was cozy and comfortable and might have been nice to linger in under different circumstances, but as it was all that happened there was a mad dash to pack things away and Jon feeling his own heartbeat race every time he heard a police siren in the background. (Apparently, though he’d seemed to have a decent enough time there in Elias’ body, and certainly hadn’t found it especially difficult to leave, Jonah Magnus was no more eager to land himself in jail now than Jon himself was.)

Then the two of them--the three of them?--got in Martin’s beat-up blue sedan, and Martin began to drive.

If he were himself, Jon might have volunteered to drive. It had been a long day for him, but Martin certainly could say the same, and it might have been a nice gesture, taking that small necessity away from Martin, letting him sit back and relax as Jon got them where they needed to be. (Which was, they had decided, an old safehouse of Daisy’s in Scotland, far from here, far from the police, far from just about anyone who might want to follow their scent.)

As it was, Jonah didn’t volunteer to drive, and John was grateful for it, because he didn’t trust Jonah Magnus not to drive the car into a fence post or something if he decided that was what best fit his master plan, whatever that was. (Also, did he even know how to drive? John couldn’t remember Elias ever driving, and Jonah Magnus was from the 1800s, after all...)

They listened to the radio for a long while, even once they got far enough away from London that the familiar stations started to dissolve into nothingness and static, Martin occasionally humming along to whatever song happened to be playing or tapping the steering wheel in beat with the rhythm as Jon remained quiet and still both inside and out. The city slowly turned into the suburbs which slowly turned into the countryside, vast and practically empty, rolling green hills and quaint cottages dominating the landscape as far as the eye could see.

It felt like a breath being held, like the pause between heartbeats, like a space between what had been and what might be.

Eventually, they were far enough from the city that no pattern could be heard in the static coming from the radio, and one of them turned it off--Jon honestly wasn’t sure if it was Martin’s hand or his own that pushed the dial in, only knowing that one second there had been cacophonous static ringing through the car and the next second there was only a strange, distant silence.

Martin was the one who finally broke the silence.

“This reminds me of some of the field trips I went on back in school... have you ever been to Stonehenge, by any chance?”

Jon shook his head and muttered “No.”

(Jon wasn’t sure if Jonah Magnus Knew that Jon hadn’t been to Stonehenge, or whether it was simply a lucky guess, but it was true just the same. Jon hadn’t gone there during his school days, and he wasn’t really one for taking vacations--real vacations, that is, not being kidnapped or hiding out from a murder charge or trying to stop the end of the world--and on the rare occasion he’d left town of his own accord, he’d always found other destinations more appealing than Stonehenge, much as he appreciated the history behind its construction.)

Martin let out a soft laugh as he replied, “Would not recommend it.”

Jon didn’t know what exactly about that statement was worthy of laughter-

-until, suddenly, he did.

Jon saw it all, clear as day. The packed school bus, where songs turned to screams intermittently and pencils and erasers got flung about on multiple occasions as a young Martin inched close to the window and tried desperately to focus on the cheap fantasy novel he’d brought along in his backpack. The children groaning and shuffling their feet as adults tried to explain why a bunch of rocks were exciting enough to be worth riding a bus for hours, only actually growing excited when one of their number sneaked under the rope separating the artifact from its visitors and tried to touch one of the rocks in question, getting a stern talking-to from the supervising teacher for his troubles. The bus being even louder and more chaotic on the way back, somehow, and young Martin giving up on the fantasy novel and turning to a polka-dot notebook, doing his best to channel his frustration with his current situation into pretty words to set down on paper...

He hadn’t meant to Know it, of course, but that had never stopped him before, either. But it was good to know that- that he could still Know things, that that at least hadn’t been taken from him, not that knowledge alone could do him much good, as a mind without a body-

Jon was jolted out of his thoughts and back into the present situation by the sound of Martin’s voice.

“Just because we’re out of range of the radio doesn’t mean it has to be silent in here, you know. We just need to provide our own music, that’s all. And you know, one of those old school songs just got stuck in my head again...”

Jon waited, curious to know which one of the dozen or so--fourteen, okay, thank you Eye powers--songs that had been sung on the school bus that day was once again coming to mind for Martin. None of them seemed particularly apt in Jon’s mind, but perhaps Martin saw things differently, was making connections that Jon hadn’t made, unobservant and cerebral as he could be-

“I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves...”

Internally, Jon cracked up.

Externally, Jonah in Jon’s body groaned slightly and grabbed his temple with one hand.

“Everybody’s nerves, everybody’s nerves...”

The best part about it was that Martin was singing the song with every bit of certainty and passion that he’d used when occasionally singing along to snippets on the radio, if not more so. Martin’s singing voice was--well, he probably couldn’t make a career out of it or anything, but it was nice in its own way, surprisingly soothing even, given the current source material...

Jon’s body groaned exaggeratedly and curled into himself until his head was nearly touching his lap.

“Alright, alright, I’ll stop. But at least we’ve both got it stuck in our heads now, right?” Jon didn’t exactly have the best perspective with which to view Martin’s face at the moment, so he heard more than saw the wry smile as Martin continued, “Better than facing it alone, at least.”

Jon felt himself mumble, while still awkwardly curled up, “’s still not nice.”

“I’ll promise you a lot of things, Jon, but I’m not sure I can promise nice.”

As the car lapsed into silence once more, aside from a bit of humming on Martin’s part, Jon got an idea.

Hey Jonah? Or Elias, or some maniac, or whatever the hell it is you want me to-

What?

The annoyance and frustration in Jonah’s voice were palpable.

Jon took a second to savor the moment before he began.

I know a song that gets on everybody’s nerves...

Don’t.

Or what? What are you going to do to me? Turn me into a murderous monster? Stop me from controlling my own body?

I didn’t make you kill Lukas, if that’s what you’re referring to there, and your... monstrosity, as you put it, is the result of a series of choices you’ve made over the years, decisions that I did not force upon you-

The question still stands. So much has been taken from me already. What else could you possibly do?

Jonah didn’t respond for a moment, and Jon took the opportunity to return to the song that Martin had so helpfully brought to his attention.

Everybody’s nerves, everybody’s-

...you’ll see.

What?

Jon asked not because he didn’t hear Jonah--if “hear” was even the right word for their current means of communication--or because he didn’t understand what Jonah Magnus was getting at, but because he wasn’t going to let Jonah get away with giving a vague statement like that and not elaborating further.

I said, you’ll see what else I have in store for you soon enough, Jon. In the mean time, I suggest you not test me, lest you end up regretting it.

In the silence that followed, Jon really, really wished he knew whether Jonah Magnus was bluffing.