#Which I kindof doubt

[moonshine-aqua]

wait how are you actually gonna recommend "i am a transwoman. i am in the closet. i am not coming out" as like a useful pro-trans guide?

the author of that piece is very clearly extremely misogynistic, and recommending that cis women read it is probably not a good idea, because if they are told that this is how trans women think of them they will likely start to distrust trans women. and frankly i couldn't blame them for it lol.

did you actually read the piece? if not you should, it's very dehumanizing towards women while very empathetic towards men. it essentially confirms every transphobic woman's fears of what trans women really think of them. it's not a good idea to recommend cis women read it, or to imply that it accurately demonstrates how trans women think

Reply:

I would have loved to be able to reply to you personally because I think we got some really different things out of that 'article' and I don't think broadcasting your ask is the best way to respond.

But I do feel like I should respond in case this was in good faith.

I didn't consider the (less of an article, more of a diary entry) as a guide at all. It's an experience. I think it's important to read people's experiences even (or especially) when they don't match up with a general consensus. Especially this one, because it exposed flaws in the way I've thought and acted in the past, which is why I recommended it. I'm unsure where you read it as being dehumanizing towards women since I didn't get that at all. I'd love to hear your perspective because without getting to engage with you in dialogue there is just no knowing.

The general sentiment of the post rings true to me. Things like 'men and boys are not inherently Bad, actually'. Or 'the writer's statements and ideas wouldn't be more true if she came out as a trans woman'. But because they present as male they do not get to be taken seriously or listened to and I think that's wrong. I think it's a fine line because many men do speak over people without engaging deep enough and/or are trolls (which the writer admits and discusses as well). But in close friendships I think it's important to let men speak, to listen to them and challenge when (you believe) they are wrong- but in a way that is compassionate and not dismissive. In a way where they get to question you, too. I also agree with the writer that putting masculinity and femininity as opposite forces that cannot support one another and instead cancel each other out is a really damaging idea that the writer of the post rightfully pushes back on. I agree with them also that making fun of and shaming people for any physical trait is wrong and it doesn't suddenly become okay because the target is a man or the feature is generally found in men specifically.

To me the post reads as a perspective of what it's like to be on the 'other side'. It's a peek into the problems with telling men they need to shut up and listen. That's not to say that it can't be necessary to do sometimes, but I think it's important to keep the nuance in mind. Not all people you view as men actually are. Not all women telling men to shut up and listen actually care whether they are a closeted queer person because they wouldn't welcome them anyway. Besides- men also live in this world and thus have experiences with and opinions on concepts connected to the human experience like 'femininity' and those thoughts and opinions are not inherently bad or not worth listening to, in my opinion. The post struck me as a very personal story of someone sharing what it's like to be lectured about your own lived experience because the other person doesn't even consider it might be yours. In a way that got to me and I felt it was worth sharing.

I'm very curious which parts of the article gave you such a different impression than me. Genuinely. Maybe I missed something. Maybe I interpreted things differently. It's hard to reply to you since you sent me this ask anonymously and I'm not sure what you expected me to do. Re-reading my tags I also don't think I implied this single post is 'how trans women think'. I would be very uncomfortable doing so because, like any group of people, they are not a monolith. I kindof trust that people reading the post can remember that for themselves.

If the blog post makes anyone distrust trans women then I don't think the post is the problem. If any single person's experience makes anyone dismiss a whole group of people I would argue that maybe they need to take a step back. Being empathetic towards men is not bad. Sharing a negative experience with cis women (women this person cares about and is close friends with) is not misogynist in and of itself.

Implying otherwise is a bit of a red flag to me. And assuming you're genuine I'd ask you why you are so preoccupied with whether or not transphobes will get more transphobic from reading a single trans woman's experience. Just because- what? it doesn't fall into a narrow definition of what a trans person is allowed to be? That doesn't sound right to me, either.

Link to the post in question, if anyone is curious.

[crydentialzz]

PART 2 HERE hi hii hello!! twiddlefinger has been rolling around in my nbrain like marblses soo have my take on the disease :3 - oh also if u like this consider taking a peek at my fan species i made for the nuggets of the max design pro universe here - idrk what warnings specifically would fit this since this is more like a breakdown of the virus itself, but just be warned there are itty bitty mentions of blood. lmk some suggestions for the warnings tho, would b very helpful ^w^ - (i based this off of being a opposite (kindof) to hanahaki disease since they r both emotion related and hanahaki is probably one of the most popular forms of "illness-due-to-feelings" which i thought was cool. oh also b aware that this is all copy-pasted from a doc i wrote up at infrequent times at night when motivation was high. i went through the entire thing and made sure it was coherent, but i doubt i caught all of it so apologies in advance for any parts that may be weirdly written or phrased, feel free to ask questions to clear stuff up. if u guys like it ill probably post more. this in parts since its so long, this 1 is the introduction and first 2 stages of the illness. aaaaanyways enjoy!!!!)

Inquies cupidinem or it's nickname “Twiddlefinger” is a parasitic disease that hijacks the dopamine system in the brain that activates when in love, causing an intense obsessive drive to keep their partner with them by any means.

Instead of illness being borne of unrequited feelings / love, Inquies cupidinem is from requited feelings and its connections to obsession, greed and or desire for a partner (these all vary in intensity). It can also be created from requited yet repressed feelings yet to be expressed to an established partner (or partners), or even from an intense fear of their partner leaving.

The disease manifests itself as a type of parasite, often located in the Jugular Vein or hidden in the arteries and veins in the lungs, and appear as black, oily growths. Its placement in veins and blood vessels is due to the disease hiding in blood cells to travel around the body and infect their host fully.

Stage 1 The disease will start out small. Little things like a temporary sore throat, cough, lower / higher body temperature, and will last a few days (3-5 days). Slowly as the illness grows, the host’s physical appearance may begin to change in a variety of ways, most notably being thinning fur around a certain region or fur patterns changing color to become muddier / darker; for those with dark fur this will be the opposite, patterns will become lighter in color / washed out. This begins about 2-5 weeks into having the previous infrequent symptoms, mental health is stable, but the patient may experience moments of memory loss, fuzziness / brain fog or deja-vu. The infected may also start to have odd behavior around their partner such as stealing / hoarding items owned by their partner or asking excessive questions about things their partner likes (these actions all act towards getting closer to their lover which temporarily satiates any need for their partner the patient may experience early on). Stage 2

Thus begins the second stage in which the internal decay rapidly increases. The body is stuck in an internal fight, the physical constantly decaying and losing mass while the infection wants to keep growing, increasing mass and keeping the body alive with its growth and amplification of muscles (this overall leads to odd looking body variations, oftentimes looking somewhat muscular and dangerously thin at the same time). The host will get strong instincts / urges to keep their partner close, even escalating into violent overreactions when said partner interacts with others. This is controllable for the most part, but the feelings will only grow stronger the longer they are unaddressed or ignored. The sickness increases, now comparable to an elevated high fever; constant shaking, occasional dry heaving / throwing up large amounts of infected blood, high irritability and intense muscle spasms most commonly occurring in the hands and fingers (the brain will send signals to grab their partner and keep them close, think something similar to alien hand syndrome but a little more controllable as this command can be averted with other stimuli). In terms of physical symptoms, the thinning fur will have targeted one area at this point, covering it in the oily substance of the infection. The muscle and tissue underneath may begin to rot away as well, leaving exposed bone (if it doesnt rot immediately, it at least is very loose, barely connected to the host and has high chances of simply tearing away if injured or touched too much). This stage is usually where contact with the patient will be limited as, against their instinct and drive to be around their partner, they will most likely try and lock themselves away from the public in fear of harming loved ones, or depending on the patient's situation will spend less time around family / their partner often opting to cover the area temporarily and distract themself. At this point mentally, brain fog has increased; the patient will find it difficult to get their mind off of their partner as they slowly grow more obsessive, even revealing some OCD symptoms (notably “Pure-O”, “Real Events OCD” and “Relationship OCD” mix). Symptoms such as repetitive rituals, replaying events over and over / flashbacks, intense overwhelming feelings of shame / guilt / fear / embarrassment, worrying that actions have caused others harm, thinking they dont deserve their partner (or idolizing / putting their partner on a pedestal), and much more. The infected will also often experience Hyperthyroidism + Polyphagia symptoms as the obsession grows from just a want to a physical (carnal) need. This will occur directly after or in the middle of the 2-5 week time-frame for the second stage is up as the disease quickens its spread.

[2n2n]

why is hanako comparatively more affectionate with nene compared to tsukasa? is it because he doesn't want to get outed as a brocon?

I think that is all an oversimplification of what Amane is going through with Tsukasa! And at times Nene-chan!!!

Historically, Amane was very affectionate with Tsukasa! He was even affectionate with Tsukasa in ways of which he is currently, wary or nervous to be, to Nene-chan. I always try to mind timeframes-- Amane has only known Nene-chan for ... mmmmaybe 5 months now? He's known Tsukasa for so many years, and in all of that time, their dynamic and intimacy shifted a lot (as it would, with different ages of children and changing environmental pressures). I would also say this is something Iro-sensei historically loves to explore, as Narisokonai Snow White had Neige and Estelio knowing eachother for so many years, and go through different degrees of intimacy, without a linear escalation or romantic arc-- Estelio having been an affectionate crybaby as a child, openly loving of his Princess, but being a reserved and stoic teenager.

As a responsible older brother, it's easy and simple for Amane to hold Tsukasa's hand to be sure he isn't lost. It's a good, solid hand-hold, initiated by Amane (Tsukasa's hand is passive, limp). This was their typical, habitual dynamic. For YEARS!

however when he has to hold Nene-chan's hand at the festival, he is nervous, awkward, barely touching hers.... scared of too-romantic & sincere physical intimacy, & he looks uneasy as he does it. He holds her by 1 finger............. not nearly as casual as he is with Tsukasa up there!

Amane, now, is prone to becoming flustered and trying to shove Tsukasa off of him, but he was of course a normal child with Tsukasa, fine with letting him nuzzle his belly and liable to pet him or take a nap with him. I think he would be straight up terrified if Nene-chan started nuzzling his stomach flkfj;gdfkgk TOO FAST SCARY brothers are different from girlfriends

We have to bare in mind too, the boys got to sleep together night after night!! Goodness knows the Yugi got to play footsie for many years!! read bedtime stories under a shared bedsheet!

sadly not an option for HanaNene....

How he treated Nene on meeting is not so dissimilar to how he treated 4-year-old Tsukasa.... the position of being condescendingly but affectionately coddling is comfortable for Amane. It's a format for affection he doesn't have fear or hesitation towards...

...I don't even think Amane's current 'get off of me!' impulse with Tsukasa is so sincere, because he can forget to do it. It's simple to return back to normalcy with Tsukasa, if he's not thinking about it. He puts his hands on Tsukasa's hips here, he supports the weight for a second.

He now has to worry a lot about other people observing and interpretting his dynamic with Tsukasa too, and, even in a normal situation ........................ it is embarrassing for the girl you find hot to just kindof watch you cuddle your brother ..................

if for no other reason, you don't want to seem childishly clingy and attached, you want to be a cool guy.............. I don't think 'brocon' accusations are on Amane's mind at all times, it's just conventionally awkward. N-NO I'M-- IT'S NOT PART OF MY COOL ATHLETIC JOCK PERSONA TO-- BE SNUZZLED --!!! BY OTOUTO---!!!!!!! DON'T INTERNALIZE THIS PART YASHIRO!!!!!!! NOT PART OF MY SCRIPT!!!!!!!

(now, I think in life, I doubt Amane often felt him and Tsukasa were being observed, or was invested in any kind of image preservation? I doubt he was this nervous about his reputation with anyone....)

but of course, he's affectionate with Nene-chan in a pushy, insistent way, he's as obnoxious with her as Tsukasa was with him as a 4 year old....! THAT'S super weird and different, why is Amane like that? I don't know if he was ever like this with Tsukasa.... what we see of young Amane, he doesn't seem to have ever been like this to ANYONE. but we are still missing living 13 year old boy with Tsu sightings! and that guy is the craziest one!!!

I think it's just about.... 'what he can get away with'.... with either of them.... in a situation where he can play it off as being silly-willy funny-wunny heehoo ghost boy friend, he's liable to be invasively & annoyingly affectionate...... but in a situation where he's going to be observed or when he himself feels sentimental or sensitive, he's going to struggle and be weird or reserved, hands in his pockets.

I think Amane has, with Nene-chan, kind of utterly normalized such a clingy closeness (out of an initial tongue-in-cheek lol so unserious jokeyness), he's a frog in boiling water and he doesn't scrutinize it in many situations, even as the dynamic becomes more loaded, more heartfelt, more mutual.... it's already the status quo.

... but I think it has become as natural to him as being affectionate with Tsukasa as a child would have been. This kind of face-wiping moment, I could easily imagine Amane having done to young Tsukasa.

To get more into it....

if Nene-chan has a romantic expectation, he might just subvert intimate expectations defensively....

I think there's another element in Nene-chan that enables early series Amane to be very pushy-touchy-- HER RESISTANCE AND RELUCTANCE....

I think being 'affectionate' was EASY in a situation where he was doing so as an obnoxious gesture! HARASSMENT!! There wasn't a fear of being overly sincere, there wasn't anxiety about.... intimacy, implications, his heart, his investment... he didn't think he'd care, and it was a way of bullying her. When Nene-chan was actively asking for approval or clearly waiting for or anticipating intimacy, he typically pulled back or became afraid of it.

Of course, he's getting better at it, but it's obviously now scary to him... and more reserved. An intimate Amane who means it, isn't so prone to laying his entire body on and wrapping his legs and arms all around Nene-chan...

I think recently, we finally have an Amane who can.. receive a romantic gesture from Nene-chan, a girl being cute and charming for him... and return it, earnestly romantic in turn...

what a brave and big boy, he's come very far.

Tsukasa had always been receptive towards Amane, eager and watching him with love, so there's no phase like that obnoxious-annoying-pressuring-bullying one. Tsukasa is also not... going to slap Amane or confess conventionally or something, he doesn't have romantic ideals and standards like Nene-chan .... I think by virtue of being brothers, their intimacy is kind of at a stand-still and struggles to .... evolve ... past the hurdles HanaNene can move through. Truly, brothers are different from girlfriends, and turning 13 might mean struggling to understand what affection they maintain, continue to seek from each other ... (<- and there may be parental pressures to be more independent)

Random note: In my mind, if Tsukasa ever had been the sort of person to say "ugh, cut it out!!! get off of me, Amane!!" then Amane would have been the sort of annoying type to invasively bother him, for fun. I see Amane as just that kind of person! Kind of immature like that!

Tsukasa and Nene-chan are such different people, and Amane has so many hang-ups... we don't know why, right now, he's weird with Tsukasa.... but I don't think that we should base our understanding of their level of affection on the crazy circumstance of now. The Yugi have so much history... we don't get to see the Amane who may have cradled Tsukasa during a thunderstorm, or snuzzled him under the kotatsu after they've come back from playing in the snow.

I'll also say again we don't know the Amane who looks like this, at all:

we don't know how affectionate he was with Tsukasa, and we definitely absolutely don't know how Tsukasa responded to it....

[rusty-gloinks]

AUGHHJJJ thinking abt N going disassembly mode .in the teaser .like I’m crossing out all possible options on who he would kill .it’s Not v cause she’s presumed to b dead,, (DEPENDING) also it wouldn’t make any sense for him to just kill v without reason .its probably not doll.she’s invincible ,and I kindof doubt he would actually try to kill her now .like what’s the point ?????? Which bottles it down to Tessa and Uzi (unless theres a veyr mysterious character involved ooooo ,also he has oil on his face so they’re either dead or severely injured)

in episode 5 (ithink) Uzi turned into the hosts for both N and V , focusing on N mainly,which leads me to believe that something happened to Uzi ,,or she did something on purpose (or accidentally who knows) .orrrrr third option .solver going haywire since they’re getting closer to their destination laalaallalaa ,,3VEYFTHINGS SO CONFUSING IKSORRUY

[eldritchqueerture]

Chapter 12: All That Matters

Chapter Summary:

All things must change. All things must end.

CW: suicidal ideation, arguments, death and murder, shock (a bit), child violence (kindof?? but not really), self-deprecation Jarchivist style, themes of chronic illness, themes of terminal illness

Author’s Notes: um. you may want to sit down for this one. in my defense - i did warn you. i did warn you, okay?

god. i can't believe this is it. take a deep breath, mind the content warnings and see you on the other side.

Work Summary: Jon awakens with a tidal wave of memories that don’t make any sense. In an attempt to go on with his life, he searches for the cause of the turmoil in his mind. He knows, though, that something inside him is waking up.

Likes are greatly appreciated, but please consider reblogging so other people may see it! Thank you 💜

-

The tunnels are just as cold, damp, and unwelcoming as Jon remembers them. The darkness looms with a promise of something lurking just around the corner. Under their boots, the squelching painfully reminds them what has been creeping in the walls.

Tim grimaces, casting a half-horrified, half-disgusted glance at the floor. “Geez, this is… They've all been here the whole time?”

“Yes,” Jon answers. “Biding their time. Waiting.”

He steps around the carcasses carefully but without need for light, using the cane as additional support when his recent wounds flare. Tim glances back at him briefly, keeping his flashlight focused on the worm-riddled floor.

“Waiting for what?”

Jon shrugs and winces at the sting in his shoulder. “Until there was enough of them to overpower the Archives. But they weren't ready. The Web wanted them to fail.” He scoffs to himself. “Not that they would succeed in any substantial way at any rate.”

“The Web...” Sasha frowns, searching the rough, stone walls with her light. “The spider Tim killed?”

“Yes.”

“And there's no chance it could've just been… A coincidence?” Tim offers weakly, at which Jon barely stifles a pitying chuckle.

“There are no coincidences where the Web is involved.”

He carefully keeps his voice soft; he's finding it hard to keep explaining things that seem so obvious to him now, but he knows that's just one of the things defining his inhumanity. He casts a glance at Martin who's been quiet ever since they descended into the tunnels. His gaze is fixed somewhere ahead, and there's a slight frown on his forehead.

Jon laces their fingers together to make him look down. He doesn't say anything - he wouldn't know what to say. There are so many things between them now and yet no words spring to mind. They need to kill Jonah Magnus, end this once and for all, and then...

And then hopefully we can live happily ever after, Martin thinks. Jon averts his gaze, blinking rapidly. He hasn't thought about what comes after — after Jonah Magnus, the heart of the Institute, is dead. What happens to him. He doubts the Eye will let him go; in fact, he's quite aware that's not possible anymore.

“Can I ask you a question?” Sasha speaks up in the silence. Her voice joins the echo of their steps reverberated on the stone walls.

“Of course,” Jon replies.

“You said there was an apocalypse, right?” She starts. “Various domains of fear, you travelled through them to get to Elias—”

“—Jonah Magnus—”

“Yes, yes, Jonah Magnus, in this… Panopticon.” She hesitates. “Where do other universes come into play then?”

Jon takes a breath to launch into a detailed statement, something about a grand plan and apotheosis, but Martin precedes him.

“Basically the Web fucked us over,” he says. “There was a rift on Hill Top Road, something about multiple entities converging on one place or some such. The catch was that if Jon killed Elias in the tower, he’d have to take his place. But Annabelle offered us another way. We could stop all of it. We could send the Fears to other realities and turn the world back to normal.”

Something dawns on Jon — a realization coated in dread that makes his heart stutter and his throat close up. He stares down at the floor, pressing his lips together. He knows he should speak up —they still have time, they can still come up with a plan— but his throat seems to have lost the connection to his brain.

“And you did?” Tim raises his eyebrows.

And maybe that’s for the better. Maybe this is his one last chance to do something right. It wouldn’t fix all the wrongs, nothing ever would, but maybe that was some sort of justice he could offer the world. Maybe it would be for the better.

“Well, Jon wanted to kill the whole world to contain them, so we didn't exactly have an alternative,” Martin scoffs, catching Jon’s attention with the tone. “And we were hoping that the Change doesn't happen in other worlds. The Fears would have marginal access to them, just like they did before the Change happened in ours. And—And we couldn’t exactly be held accountable for what could possibly, maybe happen in alternate universes, now, could we?”

Jon grinds his teeth to stop himself from arguing. There's no point reviving the same discussion, not after the fact. They've got to press forward and face what’s awaiting them. One way or another.

“Okay, but that doesn’t explain why you ended up here,” Sasha points out.

An uncomfortable silence follows her words. From the corner of his eye Jon sees Martin look away and bite his lips. Something heavy makes itself at home in his chest.

“We had an argument,” he speaks, taking extreme care that his voice doesn't show any emotions. “Martin and I. I… I could really destroy them all at the source. I had a chance to end it all for good. I had to take it.”

“You mean, you had to orchestrate the most elaborate suicide—”

“Martin.” Jon's voice takes on an exasperated edge. “This isn't about me, it’s about all the worlds and all the people I’ve—”

“No, Jon!” Martin stops and looks at him with desperation in his eyes, letting go of his hand. “It is about you, it's all about you! The Web chose you, the Eye chose you, and you keep putting yourself in danger because of some fucked up martyr complex—”

“They didn't—They didn't choose me, Martin, I was just” —Jon lets out a frustrated breath. “There's nothing special about me. I was just a conveniently placed chess piece that did exactly what it was meant to.”

“You're not a—a chess piece to me!” Martin says, his eyes glistening.

“I know,” Jon says as softly as he’s able to, and takes Martin's hand. "But the world doesn't care about—"

Martin takes a step back. “I had to kill you,” he whispers shakily. “I really thought I wouldn’t be able to, if it came to that, but I did. I had your fucking blood on my hands, Jon, I had to watch you die. Do you have any idea what it was like? I don't give a fuck what the world cares about and frankly, I feel like we deserve something nice for a change! So, if that’s alright with you, I would like to focus on us this time, without involving the entire world in it.”

Jon stares at him, too stunned for words for a moment. Martin clicks his own flashlight on and steps past Tim and Sasha, who are equally speechless, albeit for slightly different reasons.

“Come on, let's go,” Martin says.

None of them look each other in the eye for a while and the silence hangs heavy. Jon bites the inside of his cheek to stifle the self-loathing lapping at his core in powerful waves, as he rewinds Martin's words in his mind. Of course he's still reliving what happened in the Panopticon, why didn't he think of that? How could he be so heartless? Talking about the Web and the grand scale of things… Martin is still human, it must have been awful for him. How could he—

“A fork. Left or right?” Martin asks.

“Uh, forward,” he says without really listening.

Martin stops and all three of them look back at Jon.

“Jon? There's no forward,” he supplies.

“What do you mean there's” —Jon looks up and pauses. “Oh, good lord.”

“What is it?”

Instead of answering, Jon limps past them and turns to the right.

“Jon—?”

As they all light the corridor, the beams stop at an unmoving figure of an old man, slouched down by the wall. His head is drooping forward, with the chin resting on his bloodied chest, and his eyes are half-lidded, unfocused. A pool of dark liquid has gathered on the floor beneath him, already substantial but still fresh.

“Shit,” Martin hisses between his teeth. “Is that who I think it is?”

“In the flesh,” Jon replies gravely, as he kneels carefully next to the body. “Jurgen Leitner.”

“Wait.” Tim blinks in confusion. “You don’t mean—”

“Yes, Tim,” Martin presses his lips together. “That Jurgen Leitner.”

“Bloody hell.”

“Guess we mark him as no longer missing,” Sasha mutters under her nose. “What d’you think happened to him?”

“Jonah Magnus,” Jon supplies, rising to his feet, and shoots a glance at Martin. “He took the book as well.”

“Is there a way to get there without it?”

“We’ll find a way around.” Jon frowns and looks off to the side. “He might try to stop us.”

“Can he even find us here?” Martin asks. “I thought this was a blind spot.”

“I don’t know.” Jon shakes his head lightly. He glances at Tim and Sasha hesitantly. “This could get dangerous very fast. The tunnels are—”

“We know what we signed up for, Jon,” Sasha replies, her face changing instantly from concern to stubborn determination.

“Do you?” Jon quirks his eyebrow inquisitively at Tim, who has been rather hanging back.

Tim looks up at him startled, as if feeling his gaze on his skin. There’s a moment where the entirety of Tim’s identity is sprawled open before Jon — every thought and feeling, every memory, both remembered and lost — everything that makes him who he is for Jon to Know. He vividly remembers rebuilding this identity from the very core. There’s nothing inside Tim that could be hidden now.

Tim lets out a breath and the quiver of his lips is the only sign of his distress, invisible to the eyes of others. Jon sees the fear in the glint of his eye as he relives the memory of being ripped apart and put together again every time he closes his eyes.

“I—I mean,” he stammers out and laughs to relieve some of the tension. Does he even know where it’s coming from? Does he realize Jon was the one to put the pieces of him together? “We can’t turn back now, can we?”

Jon blinks, forcibly withdrawing himself back to his own body. He grips his cane so hard his knuckles go white, unable to fight off a grimace. Or is it a smile?

“Yeah, we can’t. Let’s go.” Sasha waves her flashlight further down the corridor.

“What do we do with him though?” Martin asks, pointing at the body. “We can’t just leave him here.”

“What else are we supposed to do?” Sasha shrugs. “We can call the cops later, it’s not like he’s going anywhere.”

“Yeah, she’s right,” Tim says and clears his throat. “We do not want to be found near his body with a knife.”

“Okay, fair.”

Jon limps behind the rest of them as they continue forward through the tunnels. He entertains the thought of sneaking off and finishing this on his own, but that wouldn’t do anyone any good. He knew extracting Tim from the NotThem would have its consequences, but this… If Tim and Sasha are bound to him rather than to the Institute, then killing Jonah Magnus will do nothing to set them free. Better to continue with the former plan. And as for Martin…

Jon frowns at the ground. Can he do something like that to him, after everything?

Then again, he is already beyond redemption. Another unforgivable sin on his record wouldn’t make much of a difference.

He doesn’t notice Martin sidestepping him until his hand is taken hold of. He looks up to meet his concerned gaze.

“Hey,” he says in a hushed tone. Jon averts his eyes, the ache in his chest too strong to bear. He hears Martin sigh softly. “I understand if you’re angry with me.”

Unwittingly, Jon looks back up, ready to wipe away doubts of this sort, at least.

“I’m not!” He assures and squeezes his hand. “I’m not angry with you, I promise.”

“Then what’s going on?” Martin asks. “Talk to me, Jon.”

Jon looks ahead and bites his lip. They’ve lagged behind a bit, but Tim and Sasha seem to keep their distance, apart from the occasional glance back. Giving them some space, perhaps.

“I’m just worried,” Jon says carefully. “About what we’re going to do. What we’re going to find.”

Technically not a lie. Martin frowns and studies his face, but Jon knows he can’t see very well in the dark.

“Seems pretty straightforward to me,” he replies cautiously, as if daring Jon to reveal a detail that would derail the whole operation. “We go in there, we stab the bastard, we get out. Right?”

Jon can’t bring himself to look Martin in the eye.

“He’s going to be there,” he says half-heartedly. “He won’t go out without a fight, you know that.”

“There’s four of us and one of him, I think I like our chances,” he chuckles and gently nudges Jon with his elbow. “What’s on your mind? Honestly. I can see it’s not that.”

Jon stops with a sigh and passes a thumb over Martin’s palm, looking down at their hands.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Jon—”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” he continues, looking up into Martin’s eyes. “Back then. It must have been horrible. I didn’t think… I—I can’t even imagine…”

Martin’s features smooth out in a sad smile and he brings up his hand to Jon’s face.

“It’s okay,” he mutters. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I got… A bit carried away.”

Jon stares into Martin’s eyes for a moment and wishes it could become eternity. This is the face of the man he sacrificed everything for — the destruction of the very beings of fear, the thing he deemed the right thing to do. His life was more important than all the other universes, all the other people in them; all the people in this universe, Tim and Sasha included. And still, he was so close to losing him…

“I’m glad you’re here,” he whispers, not trusting his voice to carry the sound. He feels tears forming in his eyes, so he closes them. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

He’s pulled into a hug that lightens the load he bears just a little bit, for a little while. Martin passes a hand through Jon’s hair and turns his head to press a kiss to his temple.

“I’m glad you stayed here long enough,” he whispers, and a new pit opens in Jon’s stomach. He feels the emptiness acutely when Martin pulls away. “Let’s go finish the job, yeah?”

Jon hesitates as Martin directs his flashlight away. A hurricane of thoughts and guilt-ridden feelings rises in his mind, but one thought is clear: he can’t do this to Martin. Not again. Not like this.

“Shit,” Martin speaks before Jon can say anything. “I can’t see them anymore.”

He starts ahead, faster than Jon can keep up with, and the words die in his throat, replaced with the low thrumming of dread. Martin sweeps the corridor with his light, but there is no trace of Tim or Sasha anywhere.

“They’re gone,” Jon realizes.

Martin turns to him, alarmed. “What do you mean ‘gone’?”

“They’re… Not here anymore,” he forces out through the tightness in his throat. The tunnels —the presence of them— encroaches on his mind, making itself known.

They’ve left the Archives’ territory and stepped into Something Else. He remembers the hunger of the earth, the walls pressing in on him from all sides — this is the domain of the Buried.

And he let his assistants out of Sight.

***

“Should we wait?” Tim asks, casting another backward glance at Jon and Martin. They’d slowed their pace to build some distance, and both Tim and Sasha took it as a sign not to interrupt the conversation they clearly needed to have. Now, it seems they’ve stopped altogether, and they’re already far away as it is.

“It’s fine, they’ll catch up,” Sasha waves her hand. “Besides, with Jon’s all-knowing abilities, they’ll find us if we get lost.”

“You know, it would be best not to get lost, if we can help it,” he says, but he still follows her lead forward.

“Think of this as scouting ahead,” she suggests with a smirk. “It’s not like we can make a wrong turn here or anything.”

Indeed, the corridor continues forward seemingly without end or so much as an alcove on either side. The farther they get from the archives the more decrepit the tunnels look, some more earthy and some roughly hewn in stone. Water and age have taken their toll on the state of the place, carving the walls and, in places, even forming stalactites.

Tim casts another look behind. It’s getting colder the deeper they descend, and a nagging feeling of anxiety has been buzzing in his stomach for a while now.

“Oh, what the hell?” Sasha mutters. “Look at that.”

Her beam of light points at a break in the wall, quite narrow and steeply descending downwards. The steps are uneven and no doubt slippery, but what immediately draws Tim’s attention is the simple, stark-white arrow pointing down the passage.

“Don’t tell me you wanna go in there,” Tim scoffs half-heartedly.

“Someone must have drawn it,” she says, lightly touching the arrow with her finger. A chalky residue sticks to it.

“Who, Elias?” Tim laughs. “If you just go right this way, this claustrophobic, horror passage will lead you to your death, where you can’t bother me and my Wednesday scheduling anymore.”

“Ha ha.” She rolls her eyes. She directs her light further down the stairs, but it doesn’t reach the end. “I wonder what’s down there.”

“With our luck, probably some kind of a sculking nightmare,” he mutters, taking another look back. His light doesn’t reach Martin this time. “I think we should—”

“Hold on, I think I see something.”

He turns back around to find Sasha already a few steps down the staircase.

“Sasha!” He hisses. “I’m not going down there with you.”

“I’m just taking a look!” She turns around with an amused expression. “I’m sure the lovebirds will catch up in no time, might as well take a peek, alright?”

“Famous last words,” Tim sighs in defeat. He knows this brand of excitement in her voice — she will not be deterred until her curiosity is sated. “I’m not coming to your funeral if something eats you.”

“If something eats me I probably won’t even have a funeral,” Sasha counters with a scoff. “Thanks a lot, Stoker.”

“You brought this on yourself, Miss Have To See It For Myself!”

Sasha’s reply is unintelligible, distorted by the echo of the stone. Tim is about to ask her to repeat when she yelps, scrambling back a few steps.

“What happened?!”

“I just felt the wall move,” she breathes out. “I’m getting out.”

“Finally, reason has graced you once more,” Tim sighs with relief. “What was that about walls moving though?”

Sasha climbs up the narrow stairs, helping herself up on the walls. “I felt the wall move under my hand,” she says. “As if it was getting narrower. I might be too curious for my own good, but I’m not stupid.”

“Clearly,” Tim says sarcastically. Sasha swats him on the arm.

“Alright, where are they then?” She asks, directing the light the way they came.

“I can’t see them.” The words come out of his mouth weaker than he expects them to. Anxiety churns in his gut and a cold feeling constricts his chest. He takes a step forward, searching the darkness frantically.

A dead end.

What he previously took as darkness where the light of his torch didn’t reach, now turns out to be a solid, stone wall right where the tunnel used to be. There are markings of age on the stone which seamlessly connects with the walls on both sides of the corridor, as if the structure hasn’t changed in years.

“Sasha…” Tim says as if she somehow hasn’t noticed.

“Impossible corridors…” She mutters, eyeing the walls suspiciously. “It’s got to be Michael, right?”

“What would it be doing here?” Tim scoffs, carefully stepping backwards.

“I don’t know, what would it be doing anywhere?” Sasha shrugs. “We should move.”

“God, we’re going to die here,” he groans.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” she nudges him in the arm. “He’s helped us before. Maybe he’ll lead us back to Jon.”

Tim lets out a weak, noncommital sound. He sweeps the walls with his light every now and then as they walk down the tunnel, trying not to let the shaking of his hands show. The silence around them presses heavy on his shoulders, and the echo of their steps makes an uncomfortable amount of noise. How long have they been underground? What time even is it? He imagines daylight and a clear sky, and for a second they both feel like a dream that’s never been real.

The corridor starts gently curving to the left. If Tim’s spatial skills are anything to go by, they should be heading northwest from where they split up with Jon and Martin, so at the next crossroad they should keep to the left and hopefully catch up to them from that side. A side look at Sasha tells him she’s making similar calculations in her head.

“Hey, Sash,” he whispers. “What do you think about… All this?”

She glances at him briefly. “’All this’? I’m afraid you’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

He chuckles weakly. “Just… Jon and his… whole thing. Killing Elias? Just...” He sighs. “If I knew what this job really was, I never would’ve taken it.”

“Well, that’s probably reasonable,” she shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe it hasn’t really hit me yet, you know? But I’m just going with it, spooky distorted people, worm women, omniscient bosses…” She lets out a laugh. “I think I knew something like that would happen to me eventually.”

“What about Jon?” Tim asks tensely.

“What about him?”

He looks away with a frown. “I don’t know. Don’t you get a… Weird feeling around him? Ever since…” He hesitates.

“Weird how?” She inquires with a side look at him.

“Just… Like he’s watching you all the time, noticing every single thing you do.” Tim grimaces as a shiver climbs up his spine simply at the memory. “Like there’s nothing you could possibly hide or keep away from him.”

“That does sound in line with what he told us about the Eye,” she offers. “I haven’t really felt like that though. Not to a noticable degree at least.”

Tim’s throat tightens with an unnamed anxiety. He grits his teeth, staring down at the floor ahead.

“Are you okay?” Sasha peers up at his face.

“It’s just…” He hesitates again, his lungs feeling slightly too small for comfortable breathing. “Don’t tell Jon,” he starts quietly. “But… You know how he told us we can’t quit the Archives, right?”

Sasha nods attentively.

“Well. I sort of. Tried,” he continues. “Wrote up all sorts of resignation letters, more or less professional. Almost wrote Elias an email to just fuck off and let us go. I even searched how to get law reinforcement involved, but I just… Couldn’t follow through. I’d always somehow end up deleting the drafts or just abandoning the attempts.”

“Yeah,” Sasha smiles slightly. “I tried that myself once, just to see if I really couldn’t, but I obviously don’t actually want to quit, so...”

“But…” Tim tightens his hold on the flashlight to stop his hand from shaking. “I didn’t want to come here. These tunnels… They’re too much. I was going to stay at the archives, maybe call up Gerry and help with whatever mess you three would surely end up creating down here.”

Sasha stops, staring at him with a frown. “What? Why didn’t you say so?”

He chuckles stiffly. “I couldn’t. Jon looked at me like he could… Pierce me to the core, like he knew every single little thing I was afraid of and still wanted more. And it was just like with those resignation letters. Not worth the hassle. Too late to turn back now. Always some excuse not to follow through.”

Sasha blinks at him, concern and doubt visible in her eyes. Tim shakes his head self-consciously and looks away.

“You don’t believe me.”

“No, I,” —she tuts. “I do believe you, I just... Are you sure it’s that? It’s normal to have doubts about places like this, but Jon wouldn’t force you to come with us if he knew you didn’t want to.”

“Wouldn’t he?” Tim raises his eyebrows. “Do we still know what he would do? Martin got his memories back and instantly proposed murder!”

“Okay, so what exactly are you saying?” She frowns with concern.

“I’m not saying anything, I’m just…” He groans. “Maybe they’re not the people we know anymore, Sash. If they’re still people.”

Sasha bites her lip. “That’s a pretty bold statement.”

“And causing an apocalypse and forcing people to spill their trauma isn’t?”

“You’re saying we shouldn’t trust Jon anymore,” she gives him a serious look. “That’s different.”

An echoing sound of quick footsteps down the corridor turns their attention towards the yawning darkness. First, they see the faint light of a flashlight — the next second Jon appears in their view, clumsily leaning on his cane, with eyes wide and full of barely hidden fear. Behind him, Martin shows up with a similarly concerned expression that soon melts into relief.

“Here you are,” Jon sighs heavily. He leans one hand on his knee to catch his breath. “Are you okay? Did anything get you?”

“Get us?” Sasha frowns. “No. Just some weird stuff happened with the corridor, so we might get a friendly visit from Michael, but otherwise—”

“What, Michael?” Jon asks, surprised by the name. “No, that’s not him. The—The tunnels are something else.”

“There’s something else in here?” Tim raises his eyebrows.

“Not to my knowledge.” Jon shakes his head. “The tunnels themselves are… something though.”

“Best not to think about it too much,” Martin offers with a faint laugh, seeing Tim’s distaste.

“I’m glad you’re okay. We’re not far now,” Jon says, looking them both over again and turning his gaze away. Tim gets that uncomfortable feeling again; he feels Jon’s stare on his skin, in his eyes, into his very core. Don’t tell Jon, he told Sasha. How utterly naïve.

His legs start following Jon’s lead without caring to check in with his brain as they walk in the direction he and Sasha have just come from. When he glances at her, he finds her already looking back with a question in her eyes — What do we do? Tim swallows heavily, not knowing how to answer.

She must get something from his expression though, because she turns to Jon and stops abruptly.

“Jon,” she starts with conviction in her voice. He turns around, startled.

“Y-Yes?”

“Do you know the way back to the archives?”

Jon blinks at her for a second, as if he did not expect a question like this.

“I—I think so? I mean, if you’re worried about getting back, there shouldn’t be any trouble after—after everything…” He trails off, blinking heavily. “Why do you ask?”

“Would we make it there if we wanted to go back now?” She asks, gently pointing with her head towards Tim. He looks between her and Jon with stiff anticipation.

“You, uh… You want to go back?” Jon’s eyes stop at Tim and immediately widen with realization. “Oh. Uh, I…”

“You know what we talked about,” Tim states with a sinking feeling.

“I—I…” Jon takes a breath. “Tim, I didn’t…”

“You didn’t what?” Anger starts to bubble in his chest. “Don’t say you didn’t know.”

Jon takes a step back, horror written on his face. Martin places a steadying hand on his arm, looking beween them all with confusion.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“I can—I can explain,” Jon looks at Tim pleadingly. A part of him is growing to hate this expression that tries to play innocent, yet begging for forgiveness. As if he knows he’s already done something unforgivable.

“Apparently that’s the only thing I can ask of you,” he growls. “So please, go ahead.”

Jon shakes his head in disbelief. “I didn’t… Tim, I didn’t intend any of this. I didn’t think… I didn’t know this would happen.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Martin insists.

“In—In the Artifact Storage, when I, uh, pulled Tim from the NotThem,” Jon says, frantically searching the floor with his eyes, as if the solution was misplaced there somewhere. “I had to… I had to remake him. Extract the pieces of his being as knowledge I could glean from it and put him back together. I… I’m not even sure how I was able to do that,” he lets out a laugh. “By all accounts that should be impossible. But… I didn’t think it would have consequences like this but it makes sense, doesn’t it? Damn it.” He closes his eyes, in pain or in shame — or both.

“What consequences?” Martin asks with horror dawning on his face. Jon looks up at Tim, his voice quiet but dispassionate.

“You belong to the Eye now.” He pauses and adds, quieter. “You belong to me.”

Tim’s world shrinks to contain only Jon —or whatever he’s really become— and the impassive eyes that watch and drink in the horror of realization on his face, in his body, and mind. Tim didn’t know if he’d believed in a god before, but it doesn’t matter anymore — right now he stands face to face with his literal maker, who feeds on his fear. Who is his fear.

What kind of life awaits him, if his fear knows everything there is to know about him?

“Stop it,” he hisses, stepping back and shaking his head. “Just… Stop. Get away from me.”

“I’m really sorry, Tim,” Jon says quietly. “If I didn’t do it, your fate would be worse than death. This really is the better outcome.”

“I get it! I get it, okay?” He shouts, glaring at Jon. “D’you expect me to just magically be okay with it? You expect me to go on my merry way knowing my friend turned into a monster?”

“Tim!” Martin looks at him with indignation.

“No point skirting around it anymore, is there?” He takes a breath and grits his teeth. “You should’ve told me.”

Jon finally looks down, and Tim feels ever so slightly vindicated in a way.

“I really didn’t know,” he says. “But I could have. If I paid attention sooner. I wanted to give you time to recover.”

“Don’t paint it as some sort of charity on your part,” he hisses. “If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have even been here in the first place.”

To his surprise, Jon lets out a mirthless chuckle. “I am sorry, Tim,” he speaks. “There’s nothing more I can give you.”

“Fuck this.” Tim shakes his head and makes up his mind. “And fuck you. I’m done being scared for your sick enjoyment. I’ll find my way back even if it kills me.”

He turns around and forces his feet to walk away.

***

In his mind, Jon curses the lack of foresight to all hells.

He stopped himself from digging deeper into Tim’s mind, extending Martin’s rules from the apocalypse to the rest of them as well as he could. He wouldn’t willingly look in their heads; the fact that he had to scrape every little piece of knowledge about Tim from the NotThem notwithstanding.

Or so he thought.

If he only looked further, probed deeper, maybe he could’ve noticed Tim was unable to turn back on his own. Maybe he could understand why.

As it is, he watches him turn heel and stride the other way. Martin calls after him and, when that proves unfruitful, looks at Jon incredulously.

Jon’s eyes meet Sasha’s for a moment. She draws her eyebrows together, clearly weighing choices in her mind. Then, she shakes her head slightly and runs after Tim.

“Aren’t you going to stop them?” Martin asks in disbelief.

“Do you think I could?” Jon replies, clearly knowing the answer. “I did this to him.”

“Jon…”

“I know what you’re going to say, Martin,” Jon interrupts, still staring at the lights disappearing in the darkness. Then he turns around and starts walking. “And it doesn’t change anything. We have to kill Elias.”

“So, you’re just not going to talk about this?” Martin follows.

“What is there to talk about?” He sighs heavily. “This was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“It’s not your fault,” Martin insists. “You saved his life.”

“I appreciate you saying that,” Jon says almost automatically in a tired voice.

“I would like you to agree, though.”

Jon keeps staring forward like his life depends on it. The weight of their destination sits heavy in his chest. One more reason to follow through with his plan. He’d be leaving a mess behind, but… At least he’d fix something.

Martin sighs. “Are they going to be safe out here?” He asks.

“I think so.” Jon nods. “I don’t know for sure. Nothing ever actually happened to us in our time, though.”

“Will they find their way back?”

Jon smirks slightly despite everything. “The archives will act like a beacon to Tim, whether he acknowledges it or not. I suspect they’ll be fine.”

The walls of the tunnel soon open up to a vast space of the chamber. Stone-hewn openings yawn from the circular walls at various heights, hundreds of corridors leading further into the maze. And at the centre of it all, the tower.

It's smaller than the one they climbed after the Change, and definitely less daunting. It still looms over them, surrounded by silence as thick and oppressing as if material, and both of them feel it would not be wise to disturb it.

“I can’t believe we’re here again,” Martin mutters almost inaudibly. “Where is he?”

“Inside.” Jon hesitates. The tower radiates finality, and he’s suddenly very aware of Martin’s hand in his own. He squeezes it, mostly to reassure himself. Is he really prepared to let him down one final time?

“Martin…”

“Hello, Jon.” A voice echoes from the entrance to the tower, and Elias comes into view to greet them. With a spark of vindication Jon notices a bandage on his right hand. “Martin. You really took your time getting here.”

“It’s over,” Martin announces and draws his knife. “Prepare to die.”

Elias smirks and tilts his head curiously. “Straight to business, then? Somehow, I don’t think that’s quite how this little meeting is going to go. Am I wrong, Jon?”

Jon curses in his head. “I’ll kill you myself if I have to,” he growls.

“And deprive Martin of his sweet revenge?” Elias raises his eyebrows. “How selfish of you.”

Jon grits his teeth, guilt twisting his insides.

“Martin,” he mutters, as if that provided them with a shred of privacy in this place. “You have to trust me now, okay? Give me the knife.”

“What?” He looks down at him with a confused frown. “You really want to argue about that right now?”

“Trust me.”

Elias chuckles in genuine amusement. “Oh, sweet, ignorant Martin. It is a kind of joy to be able to play such mind games with people, isn’t it, Jon? Knowing so much they just have to trust that you know what you’re doing.”

“Shut up!” Jon snarls.

“Such a shame you’re so self-destructive,” he tuts. “You really showed great promise.”

Jon sees Martin tighten his grip on the knife, ready to close the distance. He lets go of his cane to grip Martin’s other hand.

“Don’t!” He hisses. “Please, trust me. Let me do this.”

“What the hell are you doing?” Martin looks at him desperately without comprehension. “What does it matter?”

“You really haven’t told him, have you?” Elias shakes his head. “Maybe you and Gertrude aren’t that different after all. You keep surprising me, Archivist.”

“Told me what, exactly?” Martin growls at Elias, keeping a strong grip on the knife.

“Martin, I…”

“That if you kill me, you’ll kill him as well.” The smirk on his face betrays just how much he’s enjoying this revelation.

“What?” Martin laughs. “You can’t seriously believe this bullshit will work on us.”

Jon squeezes his hands tighter, and that must give him pause, because he looks back at Jon. His smile falls away.

“No,” he lets out. “Don’t tell me that’s true.”

“I was going to tell you,” Jon whispers, clinging to Martin’s faltering hands. “I just…”

“You wanted to use poor Martin to kill yourself out of guilt,” Elias finishes for him. “No need to sugarcoat it for him now.”

Martin drops the knife to the floor and pulls away from Jon, all blood draining from his face.

“You just what?” He asks shakily. “When were you going to tell me, exactly?”

“I—I just thought…” Jon grimaces at his own inarticulacy. “You are all still bound to me. Not to him, not to the Institute — to me. Killing him would not give any of you freedom. And Tim… You said it yourself, you all deserve something nice for a change! You deserve a life away from all of this! And I could—”

“You can’t be serious right now,” he laughs disbelievingly. “You were going to make me do it again…”

“No!” Jon steps towards Martin, instinctively reaching out, trying to make him understand. “I wasn’t! I—I promise, I wasn’t going to actually let that happen. I wanted to tell you.”

“You wanted to be the one to kill him,” Martin points out, grasping for the detail like it could save him from drowning. “Why? What difference does that make?”

“I—I, uh…” Jon glances at the knife and takes a breath. “I am the Institute’s Archive,” he says quietly. “If it dies, I die as well. But Jonah Magnus’ death doesn’t have to mean the death of the Institute.”

“You’re kidding me.” Martin looks horrified. “You want to take his place?”

“I don’t!” Jon’s voice raises without his intention in the heat of the moment. “I don’t want any of this! I didn’t mean for it, I didn’t want any of it, and it still happened! There are no right choices anymore, all of them are incredibly bad or worse, and I’m the one who takes responsibility! When I say the world doesn’t care about our feelings, Martin, this is what I mean. We’ve never had any other choice than that between inhumanity and death.”

With that, he picks up the knife and looks up at Elias. The dawning terror on his face shows he’s just realized his miscalculation.

“Jon—”

“You thought I really wanted to let Martin do it,” he speaks out of breath. “And you knew Martin never would. But I’m afraid you were wrong.”

He closes the distance between them before Elias has a chance to get his bearings, and he pushes the knife deep between his ribs.

“No…” Elias groans, gripping Jon’s wounded shoulder tightly. In the fervor of his fury he barely even feels the pain. “I—”

Jon lets him fall to the floor when his body goes limp in his arms. For a moment he just stands there, his hands shaking uncontrollably. The blood covering his skin is warm and sticky, and the smell makes him nauseous.

“This body doesn’t really matter,” he says emotionlessly. “It’s the original one that counts.”

“…What happens when you kill it?” Martin’s voice behind him is quiet. Sad.

“It won’t destroy the Institute,” Jon replies, still unmoving. “It won’t free any of you. But we will be rid of him forever.”

“What happens to you?” Martin repeats a bit impatiently.

“I don’t know.” Jon shrugs numbly. “I don’t imagine much will change. I’m already…” His voice cracks. “I’m already something entirely else.”

“Jon—”

“It feels right to do it,” Jon says in disgust. “Just as it felt right to walk the apocalypse world. I can feel the pull of the Eye, which is why I didn’t want to do it, but…” His voice becomes thick and he can feel the prickling in his eyes. His hands still tremble, and he knows he won’t be able to stop the tears this time. “I just couldn’t do that to you again. Everything I do comes back around to hurt you and I just...” He stifles a sob, his legs barely supporting his weight. “I just wanted to do this one thing right for you—”

Martin catches him before he falls, and pulls him into a tight embrace. “Oh, Jon…”

“My conscience didn’t let me let you send the Fears away but I still did,” he continues, words tumbling out of his words before he can stop them. “I thought—I thought I had to atone for that. I was ready to make myself pay for all the… the transgressions if I could take him with me, if I could give Tim back his freedom,” he lets out a laugh. “But I can’t. I’m weaker than you, Martin, so much weaker. I—I couldn’t watch you die. And I couldn’t hurt you like this again. I don’t want to hurt you ever again.”

“It’s okay, Jon.” Martin places a hand on the crown of his head, gently rubbing his fingers on his scalp. “It’s okay now.”

“I—I tried to cling to my humanity, but I don’t think that’s possible anymore,” he whispers. “And I think it might not even matter. Time and time again I prove to myself that I just can’t. Do it.”

“Jon. It’s alright. You don’t have to—”

“Because of you,” he whispers somewhere near to Martin’s ear, gripping his arms tight. He falls quiet. “You’re all I have left, Martin. You’re all that matters to me. S-So if I have to live as a monster who can only inspire fear? If that’s the only way I can be here with you? Then so be it.”

Jon feels Martin’s arms tighten around him. He looks up at his face to see silent tears on his cheeks.

“I’m sorry. For all of this,” he adds quietly.

“It—It would be easier if you’d just talk to me, you know?” Martin lets out a laugh. “We’re supposed to figure it out together. You have to… You’ve got to tell me stuff like that.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Jon looks down. “I almost did a couple times, but there was always something… And then I’d feel like it’s too late. There was a voice in my head that wanted to… I thought maybe some good would come out of it, you know.”

“I know, Jon.” Martin’s palm cups his face, and he passes his thumb on Jon’s cheek. “But you can do more good being here. We can do more good. Together. Okay?”

Jon sniffles and nods, trying for a smile. “Where you go, I go.”

Martin smiles, spilling more tears onto his cheeks. “Yeah. That’s the deal.”

Jon casts a glance at Elias’ body lying just under their feet, and lets out an unwitting chuckle.

“What?”

“Nothing, it’s just…” Jon looks away almost bashfully. “I just remembered something about you wanting to make out over his corpse.”

After a second of processing what he’s heard, Martin bursts out laughing.

“We just had a tearful heart-to-heart and this is where your mind’s at?” He teases.

“Well, we are just standing here, aren’t we?” Jon tilts his head with a faint spark of playfulness in his eyes. “Would you rather I ask if you’re a ghost?”

That’s all the invitation Martin apparently needs. His lips are warm and familiar when he presses them against Jon’s. His eyes falling closed, Jon hooks his arm around Martin’s neck to pull him closer and, in doing so, smushing his nose against his glasses.

Like riding a bike after a long break, they find their rhythm almost instantly after that. Martin lets out an involuntary sigh, his hand diving deeper into Jon’s hair, while Jon himself deepens the kiss like a man starving. He savours Martin’s sure and solid presence pressed against his own body, rediscovering just how much safer he feels in his arms. He breathes Martin in, and he smells like home.

They pull away, out of breath and shaking slightly from emotion. Martin’s eyes glisten, now less with tears and more with something far more meaningful — hope.

“What happens now?” He asks almost inaudibly, as if afraid of dispelling the feeling.

“I’ll go up the tower,” Jon says, painfully reminded of the task ahead. “End this.”

“I’m coming with you,” Martin announces, in a voice that is prepared to argue. Jon just smiles fondly.

“Alright.” He nods.

“Do you have to…” Martin hesitates. “You know. Actually take his place? With that whole… uh, eye-jumping thing?”

Jon’s eyes widen and he lets out a surprised laugh. “No! No, good lord. Thankfully, that’s not necessary.”

Martin heaves a sigh of relief. “Oh. Good. Good, that we can do.”

He picks up Jon’s cane and the knife from the floor. Jon frowns with amusement while he takes them.

“Would you… I mean, I’m obviously not going to do that, but… Would you still be on board if I said I had to?” He looks up to observe Martin’s reaction keenly.

He looks at him, startled at first, then his cheeks turn a bit red when he realizes Jon is teasing him.

“Look,” he presses his lips together in barely held in laughter. “I’m just glad you don’t, okay? Don’t laugh at me.”

“Just wanted to hear you say it.” Jon gives him a self-satisfied grin.

“Fine. I would still love you if you had to pick someone’s eyeballs.” Martin rolls his eyes. “But I’d be picking the people you’d jump into.”

“Oh, don’t tell me you have standards now,” Jon replies, as they make their way towards the entrance to the tower.

“Of course I do,” Martin smirks. “Tired, academic, oblivious. Sweater vests are a must.”

“Hilarious, Martin,” Jon deadpans, not hiding his amusement very well.

“Oh, they also have to play up the accent for shits and giggles, otherwise no deal.”

“I’m not playing it up—”

“Mhm,” Martin hums sceptically.

“Well, it’s definitelly not for shits and giggles.” Jon grimaces with distaste.

“So, you admit—”

“Oh, shut up,” Jon rolls his eyes with a smile.

Ascending the stairs is a feat with Jon’s wounds, but the tower is nowhere as tall as the one in the apocalypse world. The chamber at the top is open, with thirteen openings in the outer wall looking out all around the structure. At the centre, there’s a stone-hewn throne, upon which sits the two hundred year-old body of Jonah Magnus.

The body is visibly withered and slightly decayed, but there is no smell of rotting flesh, and most of the bones are still hidden under the skin. His hair has mostly fallen out, as have his teeth, and his eye sockets yawn with emptiness.

“Is it weird that I sort of expect him to move?” Martin asks in a whisper.

“Let’s make sure he doesn’t.” Jon adjusts his grip on the knife and walks up to the body.

From this point he can feel the power of the Eye and the others, like electricity condensing in one spot. His hairs stand on end as his hand is directed over Jonah Magnus’ chest almost without his conscious input. He’s been denying the Eye for far too long. With one push he can finally seize power from the man who had ruined the world; step above the boundries and redefine them however he wishes.

This world is nothing compared to the rich landscape after the Change, but that is not to say it is without any merit. There is plenty of fear to be found, plenty of people who beg to be heard, noticed and Seen — plenty of them he can yet make his.

As he plunges the knife into the chest of the founder of the Institute, his eyes fall closed, and something in his chest lurches. Images and feelings flash before his eyes, spanning years of searching, cataloguing and gathering statements of fear. Trying to understand and if not that, then to know and see how this thing called fear works, just to answer one simple question.

How do you stop being afraid of death?

The answer found itself in witnessing the fear of others, of watching and revelling in it, of wanting more. In finding a Power, something other than god, something more — something real. Something that bestowed upon him the gift of evading that which he was always most afraid of.

Naturally, he sought to give back to the power that had become his life, forsaking the ways of mortals who never really knew, never understood how the world worked. Naturally, he sought to remake the world, like so many others attempting before him, so that the power he served would thrive, and that he would thrive with it.

Then it’s over. His hand still grasping the knife trembles, his eyes fill with tears, and a giggling laugh escapes his lips. Jonah Magnus lies dead before him, and Jon can feel the deep, primal fear in his mind. He watched with sightless eyes as the knife approached and sunk in his chest, and Jon can witness him standing on the precipice of his greatest nightmare.

Jonah stands at the edge of a dark cliff, with a yawning, hungry abyss behind him, and Jon watches. He watches the little redheaded boy, in fancy, colorful frills of the nineteenth century look up at him with brown-grey eyes, wide open in fear. He sobs, trying to climb away from the crumbling precipice, but something just doesn’t let him. He calls out to Jon.

It would be all too easy to reach out and help him. Grasp his frail little hand and pull him out of that deathly chasm. But Jon stays back, the pleas of the child falling on deaf ears.

“Jon!”

He feels something touch his body — did the boy manage to grab purchase? Jon flinches, swats the touch away, pushes whatever it is towards that chasm — nothing but him is allowed the safety. Everything but him must be afraid.

The boy screams as he loses his footing on the shifting stone. His eyes flash before Jon’s face, presented perfectly for him to savour the final moment of overbearing terror as he falls to his demise. His cry still reverberates in his ears, even as he disappears in the darkness below.

Jon finds himself back in the Panopticon, sprawled on the floor, his cane abandoned nearby. Martin has retreated to the wall; his hands are outstretched in a placating gesture.

His face paints a stark picture of fear.

“You’re afraid of me,” Jon mumbles, his voice cracking slightly.

“Just because you tried to wrestle with me,” Martin says defensively. “I was afraid you’d hurt yourself. What happened?”

“I—I, uh…” Jon looks around to bring himself back to reality. “I saw Jonah Magnus meet his end.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Martin snorts nervously. “Why did you attack me?”

“Ah… Attacked you?” Jon blinks at him without comprehension.

“I thought you were going to pass out, so I tried to help.” Martin keeps observing Jon cautiously. “But your face… And you pushed me away, started fighting when I tried to bring you back…”

“Christ, I’m sorry, Martin.” Jon winces as he tries to stand up. Martin instinctively comes closer to help, but falters halfway. “I—I have to admit I wasn’t exactly myself.”

“Are you… Back?” He asks.

“Yes. Yes, I think so.” Jon tries to smile, but his shoulder wound has chosen this time to be particularly painful. He ends up grimacing and clutching at the bandage.

“So it’s done?” Martin looks at Magnus’ body. “He’s dead dead?”

“Dead dead.” Jon nods. “I’m… I’m the heart of the Institute now.”

Martin gives him a tense look. “What does that mean for us?”

Jon chuckles mirthlessly and shakes his head.

“I have no idea.”

***

The legal aspect of it all is a new kind of nightmare Jon has not anticipated to ever deal with. The documents have not magically amended themselves, so any claims to the position of the Head of the Intitute would be refuted, if not ridiculed. And they didn’t exactly have time to ask Elias for an express promotion before Jon killed him.

Martin’s suggestion to just let the fate of the Institute run its course while sound, would not be viable. Throughout the years, the place had become a sort of stronghold to the Eye, a place of power (to avoid the use of the word ‘temple’), and it would be a great loss to let it go.

Martin then offers to help — while his legal forgery isn’t the strongest, he could easily lie his way through as many interviews and negotiations as needed. Jon meagerly suggests he could hold some information over some people’s heads, but this line of thought is quickly shut down and not spoken about again.

“Can’t you just Know what we need to do?” Martin whines, sorting mindlessly through the papers on Elias’ desk. Jon rolls his eyes.

“That’s not how it works,” he says. “Elias could wing it however he wanted because if someone had a problem—”

“—He threw their trauma back at them, yes, yes, I know,” Martin sighs. “Obviously, we’re not doing that.”

“Obviously.” 

Martin eyes Jon carefully. After a moment, Jon chuckles.

“I’m not suggesting it, stop looking at me like that.” 

“So, what do we do?”

“Sasha used to be good at this stuff,” Jon says grimly. “We could use them. Both of them.”

“Only they could be anywhere at this point,” Martin sighs, rubbing at his face.

“Not quite. I’m pretty sure they…” Jon looks away for a moment. “Yes. They’re both at Sasha’s place.”

“That’s not far,” Martin picks up. “We can still catch a tube.”

“Right now?” Jon looks over his bloodied clothes and sighs in defeat. “Let me grab my coat.”

The ride there is quiet; under a layer of a newly established peace, there is tension brewing about the imminent conversation. Jon keeps his eyes glued to the ground most of the time, occasionally looking up at Martin to exchange glances.

When they’re about to walk into the building, Jon stops, grabbing Martin’s arm.

“I think,” he says carefully, “it would be better if I waited here.”

“What?” Martin frowns. “Why?”

“I’m not exactly popular with Tim at the moment,” Jon winces.

“All the better for him to see you’re not some evil entity out to get him, then.”

“That’s the problem,” Jon says. “I don’t know what he sees when he looks at me.”

Martin stares at him for a moment without understanding.

“What do you mean?”

“It’s like…” Jon tuts. “You’ve walked through the Change with me. You’re used to it. But people can tell something is… Off. With me. I don’t think it’s exactly pleasant for them.”

“Well, Tim is not people,” Martin points out with indignation. “He’s… Well, Tim! You guys used to be friends!”

Jon lets out a bitter laugh. He knows it isn’t Martin’s intention, but the phrasing still stings.

“You saw him back there,” he says quietly. “He’s scared of me. Do you think he’ll approach it with sense, when he sees I followed him here?”

Martin presses his lips together, clearly unable to deny Jon’s reasoning but not thrilled about it either.

“And you’ll be okay staying here?” He finally asks with a sigh.

“If it helps you get through to them? I’d do anything.”

Martin’s concerned gaze doesn’t leave his face. “Not sure I like this energy, given it’s the Institute we’re talking about,” he mutters. “But okay. I’ll be just up the stairs if you need anything.”

“I know, Martin.” Jon gives him a warm smile and a brief kiss.

Once Martin disappears inside the building, Jon finds a bench nearby and sits down. Instinctively, he reaches into his pocket and produces a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He focuses on the sound of the lighter, on the warmth of the flame near his hand, and on the taste of the smoke; trying to distract his mind from the conversation Martin is about to have. He knows he could listen in — Tim’s mind is a part of him; it would be all too easy to just reach and take all he knows.

Instead, he closes his eyes and listens to the small sounds of the neighbourhood. There are quite a few trees around, and the evening wind rustles in their leaves; an echo of children playing somewhere nearby mingles with the everpresent sound of cars. The smoke burns on his tongue ever so slightly — the familiarity of it calms his mind. He idly wonders whether nicotine even works on him anymore.

“That’s a nice lighter you’ve got there.”

Jon jumps at the dreadfully familiar voice. Next to the bench stands Annabelle Cane, dressed in a vintage black and white suit.

“You,” he breathes, scrambling to his feet. Annabelle lets out a light laugh.

“Relax, Jon. Can I still call you Jon? I’m just here to talk.” She gestures to the bench. “Shall we?”

“What do you want?” Jon asks, disregarding the suggestion.

She rolls her eyes and sits down, leaning her cane against the bench.

“I thought congratulations were in order,” she shrugs. “You’ve got a promotion, from what I hear.”

Jon grits his teeth. “What of it?”

Annabelle sighs. “Are you really so opposed to a bit of friendly conversation?”

“Yes,” he hisses.

“Well, that’s a shame. We both got what we wanted, though. We don’t have to be enemies.”

“You made me send the Fears away,” Jon growls, anger boiling in his chest. “You made me become the Archivist, my whole life just a series of carefully manipulated strings, so you could have what you wanted.”

Annabelle raises her eyebrows in surprise. “And you really think I did all that? Me, personally?”

Jon falters.

“I really wish I could take credit,” she laughs. “But I am just a very small part of something greater. Much like you.”

Jon frowns and looks away. In a sense, she is right. In a sense, there is something greater at work here; something that he doubts he —or she for that matter— could control.

“You brought the tapes to the Institute,” he says. “Why?”

Annabelle gives him another shrug, and he runs out of patience. “Why?”

“Because I wanted to,” she chuckles at the compulsion. “You still don’t see the big picture. You weren’t the only one being puppeteered, Jon — just the only one trying to resist it. I knew that my actions were motivated by what the Mother wanted, but I could tailor them to my advantage. By fulfilling the Mother’s plan, you’ve freed both of us from the Grand Web. My actions are my own once again, and so are yours.”

She puts one leg over her knee. “I told Martin the tapes were a thank-you gift, and I meant it. And, of course, I suspected you wouldn’t be able to eliminate Jonah Magnus without him.” She smirks.

“I’m surprised the Web didn’t want to repeat the last success,” Jon points out snarkily.

“I’m not,” she says. “The world of fear is delightful, but you already know it’s finite. Terminus claims all in the end.”

“So, this outcome is preferable,” Jon grimaces. “Sustainable for longer.”

“Exactly.” She flashes him a smile.

With his adrenaline dropping, he sighs and sits back down. His cigarette has almost burned out, but he takes a last drag. It tastes tangy and bitter.

“You haven’t really answered me,” he speaks. “If it was your decision to bring us the tapes, then why? There must be something else.”

“Must there be?” She chuckles. “Fine, if you must know. I believe it will be more interesting to see what happens next, with him around. You are too easy to predict. No offence.”

Jon looks up at her with a frown. “Interesting how?”

“You and your boyfriend, managing the Institute on your own?” She raises her eyebrows. “I’m curious what you do with it. How you’ll choose to stay alive. And the whole situation with your assistants…” She lets out a giggle. “Really a mess. I’ll be enjoying the show to come.”

“Yes, I’m sure it’ll be very entertaining,” he scowls, knowing there is nothing he could do to really stop her.

“And, of course, there is the case of Martin’s future,” she continues with a slight smirk. “He is mostly human after all.”

A nameless dread grips Jon’s heart.

“He will die, eventually,” she speaks mercilessly. “I wonder what you’ll do with it. Will you try to keep him here at all costs? Or will you let him die a human death? Will there be enough left of you to even want that? Or, maybe he spurns the One Alone and joins us after all, to stay alive. So many possibilities...” She shakes her head with a sigh. “But know one thing, Jon. I may be watching, but I will not interfere. All decisions both of you make will be entirely your own. The question is, whether that is better or worse.”

With the help of her cane, she stands up and tilts her head at him.

“Either way, good luck. You’ll need it.”

Jon swallows and grits his teeth, stifling his emotions for the moment.

“You have an interesting definition of a friendly conversation,” he remarks.

She laughs. “Perhaps. Or, perhaps I am still the director of your story, and this was an important conversation to have. I guess we’ll never know.”

She winks at him and walks away.

Martin takes a big, steadying breath before knocking on Sasha’s door. For a moment there’s only silence, as he figdets with his hands. Will they want to talk to him? Will they be angry? Betrayed? He can’t help but think back to the state of the Archives before the Unknowing in their own timeline. Can they prevent that from happening?

Then the door unlocks and opens to reveal Sasha’s frowning face.

“Where’s Jon?” She asks immediately. There is a surface level of hostility in her voice, but Martin sees that deep down, she is curious. Maybe even glad he showed up.

“Downstairs,” he sighs. “He decided it’d be best if we talked without him.”

“Hm,” Sasha presses her lips together. “Come in, then.”

The flat hasn’t changed since the last time Martin was here, although he barely remembers it through the layers of fog and fear. He remembers Jon’s arms on his shoulders, calling him back from the Lonely in the centre of this very room. The armchair he sat in.

Tim sits on the sofa with a disgruntled look on his face. He eyes Martin suspiciously.

“Hi, Tim,” he tries for a smile, which isn’t reciprocated. Feeling slightly awkward, Martin takes a place in the armchair and leans forward. “We figured, we need to talk.”

Tim scoffs. “Boss didn’t think to show up himself?”

“I can call him up if you want,” Martin offers genuinely. “He’s just down the stairs.”

Tim grits his teeth and looks away.

“I thought so,” Martin says. “And he did as well. It was his idea that I come here alone.”

“So what?” He growls. “He probably knew that I didn’t want him here, because apparently he knows everything about me now.”

Martin glances at Sasha. She’s standing a few steps away from the two of them, listening with her arms crossed. There’s a focused look on her face, and she’s biting her lip, as if she’s silencing herself.

He takes another deep breath. “I’m sure you both know that Jon isn’t… Entirely human anymore.”

“Figured that, did you?”

“Tim, please,” Martin says. “I’m trying to help you approach this.”

“Why should we approach this at all?” He asks. “He’s clearly gone, we should fucking run. All of us.”

A flash of anger passes through Martin’s face, but he quickly regains control of himself.

“We’d die. Most probably,” he says. “We’re all still tied to the Institute whether we want it or not, and we have to approach this somehow. Better together than apart, trust me. We’ve done this before.”

“Institute?” Sasha speaks up. “You didn’t kill Elias?”

Martin deflates. “The situation was… more complicated than we thought. Turns out destroying the Institute would kill Jon as well,” he says quietly. “But if he was the one to kill Elias, he’d… Well. He did take over Elias’ role.”

“Fucking hell,” Tim sighs, hiding his face in his hands.

“So…” Sasha starts carefully. “So, he’s in charge now?”

“Essentially, yes.”

Sasha frowns, looking between Tim and Martin.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” She asks, as if it’s an obvious thing they’re missing.

“We’re still trapped,” Tim points out dispassionately.

“And Jon has no control over it,” Martin finishes. “We’ll probably be stuck here for the rest of our lives.”

“Peachy.”

“There must be something we can use that for,” Sasha insists. “If he’s more powerful—”

“Yes, well, we haven’t gotten there yet,” Martin interrupts her, waving his hand. “We’ve got a bit of a, uh… Paperwork problem. Elias must have gotten these things done through blackmail, but we obviously don’t want to do that, so—”

“Consider it done.” Sasha shrugs, making Martin huff out a laugh. He looks at Tim, carefully choosing his next words.

“I know Jon can be… A lot, sometimes,” he says. “He used to be worse back during the apocalypse, all cryptic phrases, doom and gloom… But he’s still himself, deep down.”

“How can you know that?” Tim grimaces at the table in front of him. “That he’s not something that puts on an act, that tries to get us to let out guard down—”

“Because I know him,” Martin replies gently. “You do too, and if you give him a chance you will see that. He cares about you, and he— We really don’t want to lose you again.”

For a moment, Tim battles his thoughts, staring at the table. Then, he lets out a deflating sigh and looks up at Martin. “Fine. Fine, I’ll give him a chance. Where do we start?”

***

4 Years Later

Jon lets out a heavy sigh and tries to rub the exhaustion from his face. The written statements do make him feel slightly better but they’re not… Enough. They’re not nearly enough, and Jon knows sooner rather than later, he’ll have to face that fact.

“Recording ends,” he says quietly to the recorder and pushes the STOP button. He doesn’t have the energy to resist recording the statements he reads, but he doesn’t leave any follow-up on most of them anymore. The recordings get transferred to the library for any students or other researchers in need, and Jon never sees them again.

A knock on the door catches his attention, and Martin’s head pops up into view.

“Am I interrupting?” He mouths, eyeing the recorder on the desk.

“No, just finished.” Jon shakes his head with a small smile. At least there is one thing in this world that still brings a smile to his face unprompted. An anchor to hold onto. A reason.

“Good.” Martin smiles and enters the office with a mug in his hand. “Brought you some tea.”

He accepts the hot mug and feels Martin press a kiss to his head.

“Thank you,” he whispers over the mug.

“You will never guess what happened,” Martin starts, sitting at the edge of the desk. He goes into detail about some innocent mistake Lisa made that led to a renovation team arriving at the wrong address, so now they have to go to Sasha for additional funding, because the team is charging them for expenses.

Jon really intends to listen —he really does!— but he’s quickly distracted by Martin’s genuine amusement. The sight of him smiling like he’s got no cares in the world is so rare these days. He cherishes the glinting sparks in his eyes.

“—And you know, I’ve worked for years to win Diana’s approval, I’d really hate to lose that just because someone put the books on the wrong shelves—”

Jon wonders how he’s gone from additional funding to Diana and the library so fast. He takes a sip of his tea with a smile, and nods along.

“Well, anyway,” Martin says with a sudden realization. “Seems I’ve rambled for quite a bit, haven’t I?”

“I don’t mind,” Jon murmurs. “I was due for a break anyway.”

“How are you feeling?”

Jon looks away, his smile souring. “I’m fine.”

Martin’s expression morphs into concern. Jon really tries not to hate himself for always managing to wipe that lovely smile away, but it’s hard not to.

“Do you want to get lunch?” He asks with a heaviness in his chest. “Tell me about that upcoming Winter Holidays party.”

Martin laughs. “You really want to hear about that? Tim almost laughed Sasha out of her own office when she suggested it.”

“All the more reason to know what the deal is,” he raises one eyebrow, satisfied with the successful change in subject. He grabs his cane and gets up with effort.

His vision swims for a second as his stomach lurches. It’s worse than he thought. His skin goes cold, whether from fear or hunger, he cannot tell.

“Well, Tim’s been doing better!” Martin says, opening the door of the office for him. “And Sasha says he used to love organizing these things.”

Jon smiles. “Oh, did he now?”

“So, she put him in charge of that,” Martin laughs. “I think he’s never realized her chaotic potential as the Head of the Institute.”

They walk through the Archives, accompanied only by the hundreds of thousands of files. Martin’s laughter echoes in the space.

“You know,” Martin picks up, as they go up the stairs to the ground floor. “I think it was a good decision to put him back in Research. He seems to be doing better there.”

“I know,” Jon sighs. “Truth be told, it wasn’t exactly my idea.”

Martin glances at him.

“Is that why you told me to say I thought of it?” He asks. “Oh, Jon.”

“I know he’s doing better,” he says quietly. “He doesn’t see me as often anymore. That’s not a coincidence.”

Martin tilts his head in concern and stops to grab hold of his hand. “Jon…”

“Don’t. There’s no point pretending, when I Know what the truth is.” He looks away. “I have to accept my losses.”

Martin presses his lips together and squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry.”

Jon squeezes back and gives him a half-smile. They ascend the few last steps and make their way towards the canteen.

“I am glad he’s doing better, though,” he says. “And it’s sort of nice to have the Archives all to ourselves.”

Martin chuckles. “Careful, or you’ll have someone filing an HR violation. We actually have that now, if you’ve forgotten.”

“Right.” Jon huffs. “I did forget Sasha—”

“Oh! Mr. Blackwood-Sims!” A voice behind them interrupts. “I have these files you said I should—”

As they turn around, they see a young woman with a startled expression drop three file folders onto the floor. The papers spill everywhere, but her wide eyes are glued to Jon.

“Lisa, I told you, just Martin is fine,” Martin chuckles and steps forward to gather up the files.

“I’m… Uh, that is, I—I wanted to…” She stammers, frozen in place.

Jon finds himself frozen as well. Locked in her stare, locking her in place. He should do something, step aside, introduce himself, anything… But oh, isn’t this fear something? Isn’t this what he’s owed from these people who work under him without even realizing?

He doesn’t blink, not even a twitch in his muscles; is he afraid he’d do something to hurt her? Or would that break this delightful spell in which they found themselves without his intention? Surely, it wouldn’t be bad if he indulged himself, just a little bit.

After all, when was the last time he felt like this? He needs it.

He needs it.

“Jon!”

He finally blinks, broken out of the trance. Martin’s face comes into view, looking at him in alarm but trying not to show it. For Lisa’s sake. Right.

He blinks heavily a couple times.

“I wanted to introduce you,” Martin says with a tight smile. “Lisa, this is my husband, Jon.”

“The Archivist,” she whispers almost inaudibly, and then shakes her head, as if waking up. “I—I, uh. It’s nice to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” he mutters. Forcibly, he drags his gaze away, digging his nails deep into his palm. He can hear the rustle of paper as they pick up the remaining files from the floor.

“I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me,” Lisa laughs nervously.

“Don’t mention it,” Martin says gently. “Happens to everyone.”

“What I wanted to ask you is, uh…” The rustling stops, as she takes the folders from Martin. “These files are all ready to be transferred to the archives, but you said we can’t—, I mean, uh, where should I leave them?”

“Rosie’s desk will be perfectly fine, she’ll know what to do with them. We’ll pick them up on our way back.”

“Okay! S—Sorry for making a mess and, and for bothering you. I’ll get on, get on those files.”

“No worries. And be careful!”

“Okay, I will!”

Jon hears her turn around and almost flee the corridor. He shuts his eyes tight and focuses on the pain in his hand, as something inside him wails in despair.

“Love,” Martin whispers and grabs his shaking fist. “Can I ask what that was?”

“That,” he hisses through gritted teeth, “was a mistake. That is why I barely leave the Archives.”

“No, Jon, that was worse.” Martin’s concern is almost palpable in the air. “How bad is it?”

Jon swallows around the lump in his throat. “Bad.”

Martin sighs softly and gently pries Jon’s fist open. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I thought I could—” He trails off and leans his head on Martin’s shoulder. “I didn’t want to worry you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m always going to worry,” Martin says quietly. “Is it time to reconsider?”

Jon grimaces in pain. “I’m afraid it is,” he says hoarsely. “I won’t last on stale ones much longer.”

Martin takes a breath and nods. “Alright. I’ll bring it up with Sasha.”

Jon grabs his hand and shakes his head. “No. I’ll do it. It’s my responsibility.”

“Jon…”

“Come with me, if you insist. But I should be the one saying it.”

Martin looks at him with a grim understanding in his eyes, and nods. “Okay.”

***

September evenings this year have been surprisingly warm, so this one finds them curled up with blankets on the balcony, staring out at the sky. Martin combs Jon’s hair with his hand, a soothing habit he’s developed through the many sleepless nights spent cradling an equally sleepless Jon to his chest.

Jon is looking down, playing with the rings on his hand. One of them is black, an old little thing he’s had since uni all those years ago —almost in a different lifetime altogether. The other is much newer — glistening with gold in the evening light.

“It’s our anniversary today,” he says out of the blue. Martin’s hand stops, and he looks down at him, confused.

“What? Jon, we got married in May.”

Jon tuts impatiently. “I know that. I mean Scotland.”

“Oh,” Martin lets out.

“I barely even remember it now,” Jon muses.

“Me too,” Martin chuckles. “But that might have been the Lonely.”

Jon smiles at Martin and plants a small kiss on his lips.

“It pales in comparison to what we have now,” he whispers. Martin pulls him back for a longer kiss, stroking his head.

“I can’t imagine wanting anything more,” he says when they part. “Although… I wouldn’t say no to visiting some good cows.”

Jon laughs, cuddling up closer to him. Martin’s hand strokes his back, but then travels up to his neck and folds his shirt collar back. He feels Martin tense up beneath him.

Jon lets out a sigh. “I was going to tell you.”

“When did it appear?” Martin asks.

“I think I felt it… At the Institute.”

“When Lisa—?”

“Earlier.”

“Hm.” Martin presses his lips together and strokes Jon’s head.

Jon rolls up his sleeve. In the middle of his forearm his skin turns darker — almost black, and textured. Hundred thin, glistening bands that seamlessly turn into muscle and bone; and nestled among them a lidless, green eye.

“How long are we going to ignore this?” Jon asks under his breath. “Because it’s not going to stop.”

“I know,” Martin says. “And we’re not ignoring it. We’re just not worrying in advance.”

“Not worrying in advance?” Jon pulls away to look Martin in the eye.

“Look, we can’t stop it from happening by freaking out, can we?” Martin points out. “All we can do is enjoy here and now. That’s all we have, Jon. That’s all that matters.”

Jon blinks to stifle the tears that spring to his eyes for a reason that doesn’t quite register in his head yet.

“And besides, it doesn’t change anything,” Martin adds softly. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jon nods. “I’m scared,” he whispers. Martin pulls him close, as if with his arms alone he could protect him from all the dangers of the world and beyond.

“I know,” he says. “I am, too. But right now we’re safe. Here. Together.”

And that’s all that matters.

-

I don't even know what to say. I wanted to make a bunch of jokes but now that I'm here, I'm just really emotional. I've been working on this for more than two years and I sort of can't believe I actually managed to bring it to a close. I can't thank you guys enough for taking such interest in this silly little story and keeping my motivation up with so many comments. I'm sorry it took so long to actually get here, but we all know how writer's block works. I also have the most incredible beta reader without whom I would not have gotten this far at all and I feel like it needs to make an appearance in the end notes. I love you, Nessie <3

I've laughed, I've cried, and I've screamed when writing this story, but most importantly it brought me an unmeasurable amount of joy over these two years, so I hope it brought you at least a fraction of this emotional rollercoaster. I think I'm going to cry for a bit :')

Seriously, thank you for being here. Say hi in the comments. Or scream and cry. I'm right there with you. If you've got any questions, my tumblr ask box is also open whenever. I'm always up for screaming about this fic. You know how it is.

This chapter's title inspiration: "All That Matters" by Blanco White

OftM playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6YAyVIilJ0ZikpttT1kvkH?si=cce0e408d7644623

[spectra-bear]

Who’s your favorite turtle and why is it Mikey?

…

..

.

Jk lol. But in all seriousness, what’s your favorite thing about each of the turtles?

Ty for indulging me lady, you will regret it :D

there is so much to unpack about each of the boys according to all the iterations, but since im currently interested in rise the most ill stick with that

My art doesnt show it lately, but my favorite is raph, he is perfect in many ways and also is relatable as an elder sibling trying to take responsibility for a role he isnt fit for, a protector but not leader, he puts his familys needs first, never hesitating to jump in the way of danger, he is a huge teddy bear sweetheart, but also has his fair share of sibling-cain-instinct prick moments that are so amusing and sweet when interacting with the others, he is my favorite, so everything about him is considered a fav, even his flaws

Donnie! Second favorite, hes the funniest, despite his doubt in his understanding of emotions, he loves more than he shows it, just differently, and i love how its presented in the show, especially the take on his design and physical aid without reducing him to being just "the weakest but smartest"

Mikey! The youngest of the bunch, i love the play on being the most empathetic but tough love kindof individual, not to mention his firey spirit, hes charming, cute, fun as most of the tmnt iterations' mikeys are, but he also has an incredibly strong spirit and optimistic take on life that it often leads him (and his brothers) to awkward situations, but eventually works out in the end with the help of his family that cares for him

And finally, leo, i am not gonna lie when i say i had a hard time liking him at first, not because hes unlikeable, in fact i understood his character, and loved his jokes, dramatic and eccentric fighting style, especially when they had him written out to not be the leader, it left him alot of space to explore his character as a support to raphs leadership. The reason why i didnt immediately fall for his character was because he was written out to be the fandom fave (which isnt bad per say, but you can get to that point where it gets repetitive and overrated), hes funny, relatable, annoying but in a humorous way, which made me want to enjoy everyone else's character arcs first before digging into his, especially after seeing the movie

[chilipepperconverse]

Ao3 Author tag game!

tagged by my bestie @plushie-sentai <3

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

19!

2. What is your Ao3 word count?

74,854 holy shit. i hadn't checked it in awhile lmao

3. What fandoms do you write for?

oh all kinds of shit, but rn i'm up to my eyeballs in tokusatsu. i tend to jump from fandom to fandom depending on my current hyperfixations HSKDJGS

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

in the fall we sleep all day (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

the end was soon (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

feeling so alive, feeling something (my hero academia, tododeku)

we both need it to forget this fear (the magnus archives, jonmartin)

if that's what it takes (my hero academia, tododeku)

all of these are like. at least 4 years old LMAO

5. Do you respond to comments?

i always do!!

6. Which of your fics has the angstiest ending?

mmmm depends on your definition i think. if you include canon compliant events its def one of my danganronpa fics (a foreign still or light of the moon) but that feels boring to me SO i might say my most recent fic for kamen rider ex-aid (or just mine tonight) since it ends on kindof a sour note for the characters? im not sure tbh, as much as i love angst in a fic i tend to like happier or ambiguous endings.

7. Which of your fics has the happiest ending?

that's an easy one! my dimension 20: mentopolis fic (whale fall) was written before the finale and was my guess as to what would happen w one of the pairs of characters, and its very sweet and wholesome i think :3

8. Do you get hate on fics?

thankfully no!

9. Do you write smut? If so, which kind?

i do! i used to be terrified of it, but i think i've gotten better the more i write! i don't hold any bars on what kind of smut i'll write, either-- whatever the characters are workin with, i'll do it!! lmao

10. Do you write crossovers? If so, what's the craziest crossover you've written?

i used to! back when i wrote for achievement hunter i wrote an au where the fake AH crew were killjoys, like from gerard way's comics and the MCR album danger days :p i got uncomfy with RPF as i got older tho so those fics are all lost media now HSJGHJD

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

nope! not that i'm aware of anyways lol

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

nope but if anyone wants to... pleading emoji

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

not unless roleplay counts... i used to rp a certain anime with friends mostly as a joke in high school but we did try and write story-format roleplay a few times

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

i don't much care for it or the property anymore bc i've got some bad experiences tied to it, but i think the ship i've gone the most batshit over is probably jonmartin from the magnus archives. right now tho? definitely best match from kamen rider build <3

15. What's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

my magnus archives dnd au (write an anthem worth repeating), for aforementioned reasons of not feeling good about the source material anymore :( a shame bc i thought my writing in that fic was nice

16. What are your writing strengths?

i think i'm pretty good at characterization! i get a lot of comments saying i give good insight into how characters feel which is lovely to hear, bc thats what i like most about writing fanfic!

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

PACING... AND PLOTS IN GENERAL... why do you think i only write one-shots!! 😭

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don't trust myself enough to do it right... i write a lot of fic for japanese media so the most i'll do is use the japanese word for something that can't be translated (names of foods for example)

19. First fandom you wrote for?

god probably warrior cats in like 3rd grade... on Ao3 tho it was achievement hunter, but those are gone like i said earlier </3

20. Favorite fic you've written?

is it cheating if i say my wip?? ;3

i'm gonna tag @meganechan05 bc i cant remember who else im moots with who writes fic but if you see this and wanna do it go ahead n say i tagged you!! :D

[imorphemi]

This is my entry for CSP’s contest, unfortunately they are only accepting entries on instagram but i figured I’ll put it here anyways because im really proud of it :D

[dreamteamspace]

People have mostly been leaving based on the fact that him texting a fan, whether 17 or fresh 18 and giving his private snap, which he himself said was probably true and real. Obviously they can do as they will, but I guess I haven’t really said anything myself other than “thats not great” and “we will think about it until the Other Stuff is debunked”.

I’m thinking about it now, and like. Obviously it’s not good at all, and he did admit to texting fans in private. The thing is, knowing his brand of stupid /neg, I can absolutely see him doing this without understanding what may be wrong with it (though unfortunately with everything else mixed in, assuming the grooming accusations are false and with twitter’s terrible behavior, I somehow doubt this will teach him much, though I still kindof hope it will).

Like, yeah, he gets a ton of hate and harassment either way etc., but what always made him different was him owning up to his mistakes and actually improving on them. So far he’s always been very open to that improvement, and I can absolutely understand people being deeply disappointed that this time, while he did clarify things, he insisted he did nothing wrong. Still hoping that changes, but we don’t know if it will.

Many of the people leaving are also saying that it has actually been a build up of things, and this disappointment over his actions was the last straw. Personally I didn’t really have that? I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been less involved or whatnot, but I wasn’t really planning on leaving before this at all, nor did I really see much reason to.

Idk if maybe I’m still processing or whatnot. Like, obviously what he did wasn’t great, and I am still kindof hoping he revisits it as he has before sometimes. If he doesn’t, tbh, then I don’t know. It’s iffy. Like it was not a good thing to do and the intentions were not as good as we usually know them to be. Whether I would leave over this completely, I’m still unsure, though I suppose it has definitely changed my opinion on him.

[freewillacquired]

@mxrvelouscreations

​Alone, Nemesis had felt like a gross monster no one would ever want to look at, much less travel with. But with Alice, he felt unstoppable. The two of them together were a team to be reckoned with, and he knew there weren't too many folks that'd want to mess with them. Not... if they had any intelligence, anyway. Which unfortunately ruled out the undead.

Nemesis actually didn't find the undead to be that much of a problem, though, even if he was alone. With him already being infected, it wasn't like he could get more infected. So cracking a few skulls with his bare hands or tentacles was an easy enough way to dispose of the undead. It wasn't the most preferable method as far as grossness factor, but it saved ammunition and things.

"Suttlies, yeah..." Nemesis said, or tried to say. The word "supplies" eluded him. "Dut I don't think... any sur-thi-thors... will want ny helt." Help wasn't the first thing they usually thought of when they saw him. They were too busy screaming. Or shooting at him. Or running. "Unless... you did... the talk-ing." Maybe. But it was still a long shot, Nemesis supposed.

"We can a-gree... to dis-a-gree... on that," he said. Of course he needed to thank her. Alice didn't have to be nice to him, or stay with him. Even if he wasn't a nasty mutated mess, she didn't even know him very well before all that. She wasn't obligated to him in any way. But she still cared. Because that's the kindof person Alice was. To Nemesis, that deserved much more than just a plain thank you, but since she was a tough cookie who was averse to praise, it would have to do for now.

"Let's go, then," he said, waving his arm for her to follow him. A couple of his tentacles replicated the motion of his arm, as if imitating him. Maybe his thoughts had influenced them in that moment. Stomping down the road, Nemesis retraced his earlier steps back to the rundown little motel. It was a small place that, quite honestly, probably wasn't that great even before the apocalypse. But he knew it was clear because he'd cleared it himself, and there was value in that.

"The wa-ter... still works... in sone oth the rooms..." he explained. "So you can get... washed ut... ith you want." Nemesis had tried to wash a bit, but... that was damn near impossible with his thick, bulbous, stiff body that was too bulky with mutated muscle to be flexible at all. He couldn't get his leather harness off, and even if he could, he doubted a little water and soap was going to help very much. But he was sure Alice would want a shower or something, so he was happy to have hooked her up with that.

(For dead man walking verse?)

“Matt?! How did you- I thought you were dead. I saw you- I’m so sorry..” (Alice; @mxrvelouscreations

@mxrvelouscreations

Was... Was that... Alice? Nemesis stopped where he was and watched her. It looked like Alice, and more importantly, it felt like Alice. He could feel the T-virus inside him doing backflips with excitement. His tentacles started flailing around like idiots. He beat them back behind him.

"It's... o-kay... Ah-liss..." he said. How could she have known he'd survive stopping a helicopter with his face? And of course, a nuclear blast. There was also that. He didn't blame her for anything. She was just as much of a victim of Umbrella as he was. "I'n glad... you nade it out... oth the ci-ty..." he said sincerely.

"You want... sone cookies?" he offered, almost comically slipping off a large camping backpack that was stuffed with supplies. Water bottles, canned food, anything he might need. And yes, cookies. "They're on-ly... a little dit stale," he said, reaching into the backpack and holding up a package of Chips Ahoy.

[uozlulu]

Black Clover chapter 313 reaction and spoilers

Ominous but also delightful that we get Yami’s perspective on his interactions with people. It’ll be fun to see if the anime might expand upon some of this since it tends to flesh things out a bit sometimes especially in the early seasons.

I’m going to presume that the order of panels of Yami meeting the Black Bulls is in the order he asked them to join his squad since it makes sense. Vanessa before he was captain, then Henry just after he became captain. So the rest of the order would be Gordon, Finral, Grey, Zora, Charmy, Magna and Luck, Gauche, Noelle, Asta, and Nero. I also like how each situation conveys a lot even though it’s like a series of photos instead of played out scenes. I also like that the silhouette of the hideout is at the bottom of the page.

We see Morris presumably defeated as the Black Bulls converge towards the center of the ritual, shouting, “We love you!!!!!” Which is very fitting given that all of the flashbacks were a move from negative interactions Yami had with the people of Clover towards more positive reactions, which is also why Charlotte and Vangeance were the last two captains depicted, neither of them expressing doubt in him just exasperation and anticipation. It’s a great build up to the Black Bulls charging forward.

That said, Yami still has cracks across his skin. I worry since Morris told us twice that he can manipulate the intangible and told us at least once if not more than once he’s changed elements of the ritual, that Yami waking is more a distraction from Morris’ next move rather than an actual victory. We’ve had a lot of foreshadowing of Yami’s death specifically which also makes me worried that the shoe is going to drop finally in the next chapter. It’s also concerning that Vangeance is possibly still unconscious, because I would think to truly break the ritual, both Yami and Vangeance would need to wake depending on how Morris has manipulated the rules.

I’m really not ready for Yami and/or Vangeance to die, but at the same time I think if one of them dies or perhaps both of them lose the ability to use mana or have a significant amount of mana depletion, it’ll take the story to interesting places we don’t usually get to see. While the mentor dying tends to be a trope in fantasy and scifi, when I think back to mentors dying in the Jump titles I’ve read over the years, it’s usually not a mentor who’s in kind of say a Kakashi position. It’d also be very chaotic for Clover to lose two outstanding captains at the same time the country learns Julius’ secret while also being kindof heading towards some kind of civil war or revolution possibly. Kind of looking forward to where this is going even though I’m also not looking forward to Yami and Vangeance dying in the process to get there.

[void-galaxy-shenanigans]

Umm hahaha hiiii!!!! I/we?? Have a question. Im scared to ask my doctor about did because we feel like maybe were just crazy and theres really only one of us and not two. Is this normal? C always fronts (we think) and shes good at supressing A who wants to front but C is scared shell ruin relationships since shes more confrontational and confident. We have no idea if this makes sense or not. Any advice? Also there might be a third but they were kindof shamed out by others.

Hi! Welcome to our page 😅

I've got a really long response, both to be thorough & to offer our templates / our explanation spiel, & to make sure I address all of your concerns to the best of my ability (/positive) - read this when you're ready, or in parts, or both (you know your needs).

~~~

This is absolutely normal, actually - I don't know if you/y'all have been told, but doubt & anxiety are actually a symptom of DID/OSDD-1, so when you doubt yourself it may actually be more hints you are a system. The questions of ‘am I crazy? is this real? are the others real’...we get them too. I know we talk on here like we're confident, but we often have to remind ourselves & each other that this doubt is normal. It's the disorder trying to protect you/y'all - because if you know you're a system, you have to deal with (1) the fact that you have trauma at all, which may unrepress memories (which is scary & painful), (2) increased vulnerability (some headmates are more easily triggered / harmed), (3) the stigma around the whole disorder, & (4) conscious communication (which sounds good, & it is, but it's also....draining? it's tiring.).

The disorder (DID/OSDD-1) only knows to help you survive through the same old methods, which is what makes it disordered (it can't adapt), but you & your headmates can adapt, so part of being a system is adapting & resisting the disorder’s urge to hide, forget, repress, relapse. You form headmates because of the disorder, but you have to fight what it views as The Only Safe Way™ to survive if you want to exist, be more aware of your system, etc.

As for keeping each other out of front, honestly that's how we began. Nico tried really hard for 3+ months (in 2020) to not split & not let anyone else front, & I'll be honest, it was physically painful after a while & he ended up mass splitting (splitting 100+ people at once - in this case 300 people) from the stress of fighting it. After that he realized he really didn't have control over whether he needed to split or take a break, so he's way better about it now.

It's normal to do, but not something you can do long term without hurting yourself (forcing yourself dormant, mass splitting, etc.). I don't know your specific situation & can't give expert advice but for general advice, let each other front. Suppressing/resisting hurts everyone, & if you're working on accepting you're a system too, not resisting is helpful (it makes it more obvious when you switch & people are able to be different &/or leave notes that you clearly don't recognize or remember).

As far as starting communication, we started with writing notes to each other. I know some systems still live with unsafe people when they find out (we still do), & if that's the case, find a journal, a lockable journal/diary, or an app you feel comfortable saving things into (we use Google Docs, under a Google account our ab-sers don't know exists) - anything you can lock or hide in some way, but that y'all have to get on/into regularly for whatever reason (so other headmates can see it). If you do live by yourself, any journal, document, etc. works.

Basic template we used for the notes is this: “Hi, my name is [name (nickname if you have one you'd like them to use)], I'm [age], and [I think I am / I am (based on your comfort, pick what's comfortable)] [role (a host/co-host, a gatekeeper, a protector, a trauma holder, etc.]. I'm ready to get to know [anyone else in our mind / our headmates]; introduce yourself when you feel ready.”

So, using my own, “Hi, my name is Caero Jinx (CJ), I'm ageless, and I’m a persecutor-protector and a trauma holder. I'm ready to get to know our headmates; introduce yourself here when you feel ready.”

You might have three or more & not even know them for over a year, honestly.

(When we found out we were a system (May 31st 2019 - we know because Alec stumbled across a TikTok video Sean posted on the 30th (he tagged his name & used a song Alec had never heard before)), Nico & Alec knew each other. Jack knew Nico, & got introduced to Alec. Sean knew Nico, Alec, & Jack. & that....that was it. For months. We found Valentino (Val) three months later, & his brother Jason with him, & then for a whole year that was all we knew. November 2020 we finally met more - Seth (Sean’s brother, persecutor), Carlisle (caretaker/caregiver), Zeno, Lowell, & a handful of others. We didn't even meet our own gatekeeper, Ward, until November or December 2020, a year & a half later (we weren't sure we had one - apparently he just doesn't trust easy & wanted to make sure we were ready). Now, looking back, we had around 26 frequent fronters (people who front frequently, but not necessarily co-hosts) & at least 76 people total, but we knew maybe 10 until year two.)

You may be a small system (with only 2 to 40 or so), or a medium system (40-90), or polyfragmented (over 100), & you wouldn't know yet. & that's okay. It all comes with time & this’ll get less overwhelming.

If you have anyone, a third person or more, that got chased out by shame/for any reason, they'll come back when they're ready (or when they feel like you're ready). It's not necessary to worry about it right now; you'll know more/know them when you're ready to know.

As for telling a doctor (or therapist), well....there's so much stigma & disbelief (people genuinely don't think we're real) that I wouldn't recommend it without “testing the water” first. Ask if they know of, have heard of, &/or have experience with DID/OSDD-1/systems (specify “it used to be called Multiple Personality Disorder” if they don't understand what you mean - most people will get it then). If they say “that's not real”, don't tell them (& find a better doctor who believes it's real when you can). If they say “that's super rare and almost no one has it”, don't tell them - they'd make you ridiculously jump around through metaphoric hoops to “prove” you're real, & honestly it's better to find someone you won't have to do that with. If they say “I've heard of it but I'm not qualified to/don't want to work with anyone who has it”, well, don't tell them & find a new doctor when you can.

If they say “I haven't heard of it” or “I've heard of it but I'm open to learn more”, that's a really good sign. If you have or find a doctor who says this, this spiel we made usually goes okay (you can build on/change it as needed): “it's a survival coping mechanism where a trauma victim survives through a mix of repression, self gaslighting, and separate identities. They repress trauma memories and any day to day memories that won't help them survive, and tell themselves the trauma isn't real and they don't have a disorder and they're not repressing anything. If a kid isn't traumatized or is able to process trauma with a safe community and/or a safe parent/guardian, the fragments that would've fused into one multifaceted identity get stuck apart by amnesia walls and they form into one or more multifaceted identities instead of one. Each of these people can have different ages, religions, hobbies, or any other part of identity and personality that non-systems have, and they each have a job that helps them keep each other alive. Together, they help the body and each other survive the trauma, and once they become aware they're a system they can communicate and work together. They can even have allergies other headmates don't have, or different severities or presentation of symptoms. They do everything they can to hide, so if they trust anyone enough to tell them, that's a good sign they believe the person they're telling has their best interests in mind and will keep them safe.”

Usually, when we frame it that way, we get back “so they're like different people in one body?” or “so all of them / all of you together form what I see as / think of as [body name]?”, & when you say yes, then they tend to be a lot kinder / more accepting when you say “so....I think I'm / I found out I'm a system” (or something along those lines). If they ask more general questions, you can try to answer what you know, & if they ask personal questions, keep in mind you aren't required to tell them details of your trauma, your systemhood, etc. or show them a switch to “prove” it, & only answer if you want to / feel comfortable.

If they need to know something specific — like a medical doctor might need to know ‘x is prone to fainting more than the rest of us’, ‘y has anaphylaxis with bee stings, but a doesn't’, or a therapist might need to know ‘b talks about su*c*de a lot but c won't actually let them so you don't need to worry that they'll actually act on it’ (we've needed to say that one), anything that would affect their job basically — then tell them that.

I wouldn't recommend telling anyone who you know would use it against you (anyone who's traumatized you, anyone who you know thinks mentally ill people are [insert ableist/cruel idea], etc.), unless your life seriously depends on it. & I'd be very cautious trying to tell family, friends, etc. & test the water (very similarly to above) first - & maybe don't tell personal relations (friends, family, body's significant other) until (a) you get professionally diagnosed (they may demand proof, & if so a diagnosis is a good friend) or (b) you've been on the journey for a year or more & you're sure you want to tell this person now. You know your limits & your people best, so you're the judge of who needs to know & who can wait, who you want to tell, etc.

It's painful to remain unseen, but prioritize your safety. It's more painful getting hurt by people who know & treat you like garbage because of it (we made that mistake ourselves 😕).

Overall, we welcome self diagnosis (getting professional diagnoses is an expensive pain in the butt & some systems won't be considered “distressed enough” by a therapist (it's up to their personal opinion) to get diagnosed) & welcome to this journey.

I hope our page helps you/y'all, & if you'd like to know more about system experiences, our journey of discovery, roles, etc., feel free to ask! We may seem intimidating, being a blog poster who openly embraces our systemhood (even when it's difficult & we don't always acknowledge it's difficult), but I promise we're not as scary as we seem 😅.

The journey may not be easy, but you don’t have to walk it alone.

~CJ

[the-last-cuddlebender]

Since when young Tenzin is underloved? His dad loved him the best and treated him as the special one and his mom adores him and maybe his siblings would give him shit when they were kids because they were jealous but he had Lin as a good friend and then he cheated on her with a 20yrs younger woman. The guy gets as much loved as he deserves

Hi, anon! So there’s a few things to unpack here, so I’ll try to be as concise as I can. This is pretty much what I think Tenzin’s childhood was really like and why he should be appreciated just as much as Bumi and Kya. Also with Kataang TLOK parenting thrown in. I’m pretty tired and don’t wanna edit an essay, so I apologize if it rambles.

Also, I’m not gonna touch the whole Tenzin cheating point. I’m fairly certain that that’s just objectively wrong. Everything else I’m more than happy to discuss, though:D

To be clear, when I say I feel like Tenzin is under-loved, I mean by the fandom (and by TLOK, but to a smaller degree). Under-appreciated might be a better word. Or under-explored? Idk. I just know that Tenzin’s childhood—just his—doesn’t get the attention it deserves. Outside of Tenzin having some angsty one-on-one’s with Aang (which I love, make no mistake!), I don’t see a lot fleshing out his childhood. Bumi and Kya get a lot of it, though (or the kids as a whole, but nothing that’s just Tenzin’s).

I don’t subscribe to the idea that Aang treated Tenzin as “the special one.” Bumi and Kya being jealous—in the way that seems to be the majority consensus—of Tenzin when they were kids is a bit hard for me to imagine, too. I try to stick to canon as much as I can, but, for some things, I have to draw the line. There has to be evidence, not just anecdote, otherwise I hc it into oblivion. I’m not saying their feelings in TLOK aren’t valid. They absolutely are, and Aang would never want those feelings to be invalidated. Children just retain things differently. A traumatic accident could have no effect on them but falling in the shower and bumping their head might. Developing brains are weird. 

I can see Kya and Bumi giving Tenzin some shit when they were kids (Tenzin does admit that Kya picked on him), but I highly doubt that was any more/less than normal sibling rivalry and Cain Instinct. Sure, Aang might have given Tenzin attention for being an airbender, but he gave Kya and Bumi attention for being a waterbender and a non-bender, too. To me, it’s like having siblings who play different sports. Just because dad went to every one of my sister’s soccer games doesn’t mean he didn’t attend every one of my basketball games. The hyperfixation on airbending in TLOK makes it sound like that was all Aang cared about, but even in ATLA we can see that that isn’t true. If it was, then he would have kicked out the mechanist from the Northern Air Temple. 

To say that Aang loved Tenzin the best is to imply that he loved his other children poorly, which isn’t true in the slightest. I can entertain the argument that he spent more one-on-one time with Tenzin, but that could be attributed to different children with different personalities having different wants and different needs for validation from their parents. And I will gladly defend it, even though I personally hc otherwise.

It’s hard to talk about Tenzin without also talking about Aang and Katara, so bear with me here:

Tenzin and Kya:

Tenzin was the last airbender besides Aang. Kya was the last waterbender from the Southern Water Tribe besides Katara. To assume Aang treated Tenzin as the “special one” because he’s an airbender would, if using the same logic, mean assuming Katara treated Kya as the “special one” for being a waterbender. 

I’ve never understood why The Southern Water Tribe being inherited by the Kataang kids isn’t as big of a deal as Air Nomad culture. Both of them were recovering cultures on the brink of extinction, so they both have a lot of pressure for the kids to live up to.

Plus, if Sokka had a right of passage for being a Water Tribe warrior, then who’s to say there wasn’t a right of passage for Kya, specifically, for being a waterbender? She would be the special one, there. And maybe Tenzin struggled with his two heritages because being an Air Nomad meant being vegetarian but being Water Tribe meant using dead fish to go penguinsledding?

Tenzin and Learning too soon:

Tenzin probably learned about his responsibility of carrying the legacy of the airbenders at a very, very young age. Aang and Katara probably tried their hardest to wait until he was older to tell him (a-la Gyatso wanting to wait until Aang was older for him to carry the burden of being the airbenders’—and the world’s—last hope, too), but it was unavoidable. It was a part of the world’s history, and the aftermath of the war wasn’t exactly something a kid could avoid. Plus, I’m sure Aang wanted to correct airbender history as it was taught in schools as soon as he got the opportunity after the war.

Tenzin just has the abstract “idea” of what his bending culture was like when it was alive and well. Aang has memories to draw upon from which to imagine the future that the airbenders needed to rebuild towards. Tenzin gets second-hand notes.

Tenzin also didn’t have a baseline by which to measure if he was a “good airbender.” He had only Aang to compare himself to. ONLY AANG. This is talked about in TLOK but only in regards to Aang being his dad, if I’m not mistaken. But Aang isn’t just Tenzin’s dad. Aang is his father, the Avatar, and the youngest airbender to get his master’s tattoos. That’s a LOT more to live up to than just being his kid. And it’s the only thing Tenzin has to compare himself to to measure whether or not he’s a good airbender. I’m shocked that his spiritual ineptitude isn’t more of a haunting issue for him, quite frankly.

Tenzin and Bullying:

Tenzin didn’t have any airbenders his age (anyone like him) growing up. Even Aang had a childhood with other airbenders. As a father, Aang was as playful as a kid, sure, but, to a child, it isn’t quite the same because they don’t share that special bond of growing together and having a shared upbringing. 

Katara can especially empathize with this. 

Airbending is the element of fun. It’s kindof hard to express/embrace that facet of the element if Tenzin is the only one his age who can wield it.

I can almost guarantee that Tenzin got voted out of playing with other kids at least a few times because he was the only airbender (and that would make teams unfair). He probably learned to play by himself. That would certainly make him serious. Toph would probably teach him how to entertain himself, too. And that might lead to Tenzin and Lin hanging out. Who knows?

I honestly think Tenzin was bullied quite a bit (and not by Kya and Bumi), and that the bullying attributed to his demeanor as he grew up. Him cowering from Kya or running from his siblings when they picked on him was an exasperation of what he was probably dealing with outside his home.

In the recent comic with Katara and the pirates, we see a Fire Nation soldier flaunt some pretty nasty ideas about the Air Nomads because of Sozin’s propaganda. I don’t think that 15 years (or however long Tenzin was born after the war) is going to reverse that. Tenzin was probably picked on for being an airbender in addition to being the Avatar’s kid. 

If the rise of fashion post-war was as fast-growing as industry, I can imagine kid-Tenzin being made fun of for being bald (even though it was part of his religion/culture) and for dressing in robes when the world, especially Republic City, was beginning to adopt different clothes. 

Tenzin is an incredibly tender soul around those he loves but also incredibly serious around his adversaries. He has a soft inside and an armored shell, and that thick skin is usually forged through unsavory interactions. And he definitely interacted with plenty of normal kids his age. Aang missed the chance after the ice, and Katara was the only one her age in her village besides (kindof) Sokka. There’s no way Aang and Katara would keep their kids cooped up and strictly homeschooled. At the very least, Toph would bust them out if they did.

Tenzin and Katara:

Now, I’m not saying that Tenzin blames Aang because he obviously doesn’t. But Aang has memories of what airbender life was like, and Tenzin has only dreams. Honestly, it’s like he’s caught in the situation Aang was in when he was a young Avatar. They both have to live up to something that was pretty much just a legend. How could Tenzin possibly be expected to compare himself to something like that and be peachy fine? Aang wasn’t. So maybe, just maybe, Aang and Katara decided to have Tenzin go on private trips with Aang so Tenzin could understand that part of himself that was so hard for him to get? Inner peace is pretty dang hard to think about with THAT much pressure. 

And yes, it was Aang and Katara who decided on the trips. I will not for a second believe that 1.) Aang would make that kind of decision without her input or 2.) that Katara would let one of her kids get private time with dad that would even potentially give the illusion of favoritism. 

Katara knew how important one-on-one time with a parent was to some kids. This is why she tells Sokka to go see Hakoda instead of her in Ba Sing Se. She saw not only how much Sokka wanted but how much he NEEDED to see their dad. Sokka and Tenzin were both caught in a “passing of the torch” scenario (tbh, the scene where Aang tells Tenzin that he’s proud of him in the Spirit World reminds me of when Hakoda tells Sokka that he’s proud of him during the invasion when he’s injured. In both instances, it kindof solidifies the official passing of the torch).

“You didn’t love her like I did”—Katara learned pretty quick in tsr about how incredibly toxic the assumption of loving or being loved more/less was. She would never under any circumstance agree to anything that would show favoritism to one of her children. Absolutely no way. Aang and Katara are a team, and to villainize one for favoritism is to villainize the other.

Tenzin and Yue:

Tenzin had a stressful upbringing. I would even make the argument that he and Yue had a similar time trying to conform to a responsibility that they were told/learned about at a too young age. Their mindsets are very similar—responsibility even at the sacrifice of their own wants and happiness and an overwhelming love for their father.

Tenzin: “I have a responsibility to Republic City.” Yue: “I have a duty to my Tribe.”

They were both determined to love and carry on the legacy of their father and their people, but they did it in their own way. They both struggled with their responsibilities from an extremely young age.

Finishing thoughts I guess:

*********************************************

I can imagine a young Tenzin crying and trying to hide from the world that was shoving its weight onto his shoulders, and who, when Aang finds him hiding in the bison stables or somewhere similar, cringes away from Aang for a split second before recognizing his father and holding on so tight that it hurt. Aang tried his damnedest to teach Tenzin airbending and the responsibility of being the last airbender when Aang was gone, but even he knew that he couldn’t keep the weight of the world off of Tenzin forever. Aang never got that chance when he was told he was the Avatar. He heard the monks say that he was “the airbenders’ last hope” because storm clouds were gathering. Young Tenzin probably felt just as hopeless. The one-on-one trips he took with Aang were specifically to the places Aang had visited in S1 when he was still recovering from realizing that he was the last airbender. Maybe Aang took Tenzin with him one-on-one, just the two of them, to drive home the message that Tenzin was not the last airbender like Aang had been?

“I-I’m just one kid…I can’t. I…I-I’m just—”

“Shhh, shhh, shhh…I know, buddy. I know. But you’re my kid, too. You’re my entire world.”

“Everyone says I’m—”

“Don’t worry about them. They’re not here.”

“B-But—”

“But? What but? Are you hiding someone in your sleeping bag, Breeze-Butt?”

“N…No…”

“And do you see anyone else here?”

“…No.”

“That’s right. So don’t worry about them. It’s just you and me right now, okay? Just breathe. There you go. Just like I taught you—You’re doing so well, bud. Shhh…You’re okay. You’re not just one kid. You’re Tenzin. And you’re my son. You and your brother and sissy are my entire world. I love you so, so much...Oh, see? There’s that million-yuan smile!”

“…Thanks, Daddy. Love you.”

“Love you more. Do you want to try going in the water again? Or we can stay up here if you like. Whatever you want.”

“I wanna try again. But…But maybe just a small fish? I don’t wanna fall off again…I-I can’t do the air-chute yet…and the water hurt.”

“I’ll round up the smallest koi there is. I’ll sit right behind you, too. How’s that sound? I won’t let you fall.”

“Okay!”

*********************************************

Maybe this has been said before idk. These are just my thoughts on Kataang parents and Tenzin. I retcon the entire Kataang family as it’s presented in TLOK, but this is how I imagine it going down in canon. 

This isn’t an attack on any person or fandom btw! I just think Tenzin isn’t as appreciated as the airbean deserves😞 He’s been through so much😭

If there’s a secret stash of young Tenzin appreciation content somewhere, please share!  I might be looking in the wrong places for Tenzin love, and I would love nothing more than to be wrong, honestly. So, please, if there’s a secret stash, yeet me that link!!

[doebt]

hello im just wondering what anime you like because im just starting to get more into anime and need to know what to watch when im done with demon slayer. also how's your teeth situation? i just chipped a tooth and it reminded me of you

WAIT IM LAUGHING SO HARD AT "i just chipped a tooth and it reminded me of you" like that would be so sentimental if it was anything other than chipping a tooth😭😭😭

OK under the cut bc this is pretty long.

also, to anyone reading this who ISNT mag: if you have a good opinion of me then DONT READ THISSSS bc im honestly so embarrassed of the anime im into like its so mortifying to me...😭

LOL ok here goes

probably my favorite EVER is hunter x hunter i really cant explain why but its just SO good and special and dear 2 my heart. it was just riveting to me and you really care about the little guys like they really become your friends *SOB* the storylines are so fascinating and unpredictable too its just so so SO fun

im also rly into bungo stray dogs rn i REALLYYYY like it... the vibes on it are just really good and all the characters are so unique and you rly grow to like all of them, even the antagonists, like theyre all really sympathetic which i love. its just a really solid show i luv the messages and the symbolism and everything

im also watching jojos bizarre adventure rn which is so good definitely a commitment but REALLY FUN!!! part 1 is kindof slow but worth it (tbh when i was watching part 1 it didnt seem slow to me but yeah compared to the subsequent parts it is on the slower side) definitely like foundational watching. and theres a LOT of it which is nice

ive ALSO been working on castlevania which is like masterfully done and really beautifully animated TBH. its pretty dark and real but also has funny and sweet moments...i dont think you need to have played the games or have background knowledge or anything, i went in totally blind and it stands on its own perfectly

ALSO some lighthearted cutesy ones i go to when i done feel like experiencing serious emotions are haikyuu and food wars!! they are both rly fun toooo... another lighthearted one i was into for a second was sk8 the infinity but i quit bc the ending sucked apparently. but it was really cute too!

i also started banana fish a while back, i quit bc it was kind of triggering to me and just really depressing but it also seems really good too, definitely heavy but yeah really good if you want smth like that LOL

ALSO if you somehow havent watched death note by now (ig you probably have LOL most everyone has but i put it off for so long so...benefit of the doubt) DEFINITELY get on that literally it has like altered the way i think and is just really good. like so good...

a few others i can think of that i was into when i was a lot younger (so take these w a grain of salt) are no.6, which is like a scary utopian mystery type situation, i still stand by this one tbh its really good and interesting. i was also really into one called owari no seraph (or seraph of the end) which is like a vampire situation that LOOKS like it was really good but i havent rewatched it recently...

and, the burden of my life, i was super into black butler back then too (like age 13/14/15) which honestly has a lot of problems like objectively, but if you can be VERY critical and mindful of it then it can be really good. i wouldnt give it the time of day if i discovered it today at age 20, but i cant erase it from my memory so im kind of rewatching and reprocessing it rn -_-

i watch all of these dubbed besides jojos (whose dub sucks) and im very picky abt dubs but they all have really good ones! SOOO SORRY THIS LIST IS SO LONG OMG i wanted to be comprehensive

[theabigailthorn]

(the first subtitles anon) So sending you a translated version to put on your videos yourself wouldn't work?

that’s really a very sweet offer, but I’m afraid I don’t have time to read that number of emails and check that amount of captions. Community captions can be uploaded by anyone, and when you check them it automatically offers a Google Translate next to it so you can check it’s basically accurate and hit publish or not. It’s quick and easy. I barely have time to do that: there are dozens and dozens of submitted community caption files that I haven’t gotten to because I just don’t have time in the week. If each one has to come in by email then I have to read every email and check each translation myself, download them, reupload them to the right video... and there just isn’t time.

To be honest, having time to read emails is a big challenge: I get dozens and dozens a day and it’s kindof an unavoidable bottleneck. Like about a week ago I tweeted about community captions going away; within minutes I had dozens of emails into my business inbox from very kind people offering translations, and straightaway that’s like 30 minutes of the day gone just on reading them. I recently had to relocate my business email somewhere else cause the inbox was just becoming impossible to navigate. At the same time I have my own life admin and a whole other career as an actor to run - I can’t really work any harder than I already am. No doubt the people who do back-of-the-napkin imaginary maths to suggest I’m a secret millionaire would say I could hire someone to read my emails for me, but that also wouldn’t work because a) Those people are way off, b) I would have to spend time looking for and training that person and checking their work, which would also take time I don’t have, and c) I wouldn’t get to read the fan mail, which I do still read all of even if I don’t have time to respond

[nothorses]

Hey so I have some good news. I got into a nasty flame war on reddit in one of the transphobic gay subs, and we basically covered a lot of trans topics on a thread that went on for way too long. The guy said some stuff that initially set me off into a self doubt/hate spiral which was super not great and I WAS gonna go to you for some minor stuff about it BUT SOME GOOD SHIT HAPPENED! Like I know we shouldn’t overly congratulate cis people for the bare minimum (IE at least using our pronouns and respecting our identities) since I think it’s too low a bar to set, but honestly I kindof want to do exactly that right now? Like he came in and apologized for what he said to me in the thread and messaged me to say that he sees me as a guy now after doing some heavy thinking, when just the day before he said he’d never see or respect me as a man. Can we take a moment to appreciate this? Of course I didn’t sell him on everything, and I didn’t really expect to, but the fact that this feat alone even happened is really incredible imo and I wish this was more common. Even if he just winds up seeing me as “one of the good ones” and isn’t a full blown trans ally in the slightest, at the very least it’s a good step in the right direction and this sort of personal growth should be congratulated more often. Sorry for the long post, but this is some good shit I wanted to share.

That is some good shit! Thank you for sharing it!

I don’t think there’s anything wrong with looking at growth in the context of the starting point, either. He started in a worse place than he ended, and that’s really good! He reflected on what you said and was brave enough to accept that he was wrong, and that’s really hard to do!

We absolutely should expect people to be much better, ultimately, than where this guy ended up after that interaction. Ideally, nobody is where he was at all. There’s no good excuse for thinking that way, and nobody is obligated to trust him despite that.

But the fact of the matter is that he was in that place, and whatever the reason for that, it’s good that he changed. Even a little bit. If that change is going to keep happening, he’ll need to be able to identify it as a good thing; which means celebrating that change with him is really helpful!

Positive change requires compassion, both for the person changing, and for the people working to help them; allowing yourself to feel the joy, excitement, and relief of successfully helping someone change is compassionate to you as well. Your time and energy is valuable, and you deserve the space to celebrate your wins.