#a few episodes later him and jon are gone]

[xianzhoualliance]

lalalaaaa i love melanie kingggg

[levaagrace]

The thing about JMart isn't that I think it's toxic or poorly written or came out of nowhere or any of that. Cause I don't. At all. When I take a break from drinking haterade, I do agree with a good few points people make regarding their relationship in season five. I don't want to, but I can give Martin little a grace. As a treat. When people aren't acting like he's morally in the right for every action he takes.

Because, though I think there is some veracity to not attributing malice in Martin's actions, the actions he does take DO show disregard for Jon's... everything. Because, though I do agree that they both take steps to purposefully not fall into the same habits, Martin adamantly refuses to believe Jon is trying. At all. And why do I think that? Why do I, in my heart of hearts, think there's no way for either of them to get any better when it comes to moving forward in their relationship?

Martin flat out tells Jon that he believes, in a world without the horrors they face, that they wouldn't even be able to stand each other. That Jon's best-case-scenario, the scenario that he's tied up all his hope into, the very idea that they could've been doing normal things as normal humans instead of whatever they became, was so far-fetched as to be something Martin had to bring him down from.

"No, Jon, we're both too unlovable on a fundamental level and wouldn't even find each other worth speaking to in any other world."

That's, essentially, what I hear when I think of that scene in the penultimate episode. Actually, I don't think Martin includes himself as being unable to be loved, cue the "I am Martin Blackwood" scene, but as I said I'm giving him grace in thinking he's not, as usual, putting all their problems on Jon.

This isn't even bringing in the 'trauma-bonding' mention, but that's also a sticking point for me when thinking about whether or not the two of them SHOULD even attempt to salvage a relationship with each other post-series, whether somewhere!else or not.

All the trauma they went through needed to MEAN something, to Martin, so he placed their relationship in that role. So the question begs, when adding in that quote above, what would've kept them together after Martin's 'kill Jonah, pull the lever, save the world, kiss the Archivist' dream scenario? The one he legitimately thought he was going to accomplish mere hours later? Without either of them needing to rely on the other in a world gone mad, without either of them needing each other to be sources of comradery when everyone else in the world can be, then why would Martin even stick around?

Nothing, according to Martin.

Course you could say that both of their insecurities would mean neither of them would see themselves as worthy of being with anyone else but each other. But that's not sustainable a foundation to build anything on. Especially if, god forbid, they go to therapy and develop any form of self-worth not tied to each other or their places in the apocalypse. Eventually something will give and I don't think many of the 'relationship growing pains' they went through will be that easily forgotten. Or forgiven.

Here's the point where I would point out how all the issues they had actually are mostly issues MARTIN caused by not listening to Jon when he said anything about anything at all, but as I said. Grace. So I won't. Just know, though, that the 'hurdles' they went through are uneven, in my eyes, at least, and I won't say no more.

I suppose, when it comes down to it, what I'm trying to say is... telling someone you love them. Means nothing. When you think that loving them. Can only be the result of total and complete psychological, spiritual, emotional, ethical, physical, and mental destruction of the very fabric of your being.

But yeah.

[lovelytsunoda]

welcome to wherever you are (the lore behind the verse)

'sup guys, here is the long awaited post about the very real lore behind the welcome to wherever you are series! i am a big fan of music from the eighties, specifically rock and new wave. i was really inspired to write this series shortly after learning about the life and times of inxs, a band i have loved since i was a kid listening to 'the stairs' for the first time. this is a very niche special interest area, and i feel like sharing the lore would really add to the series. so, without further ado, the real life history behind one of my favorite reader inserts. the lore is under the cut :)

y/n elodia heaven hutchence, was two years old when her father, australian rock god, michael hutchence took his own life in a sydney hotel room. while his death occurred in 1997, and lance stroll was born in 1998, i have adjusted (and been purposely vague) about his time of death to make the ages for the story line up. she was raised by her single mother, and eventual stepfather paul, with the help of her father's ex-bandmates, kirk, gary, tim, andrew and jon. of the four, she's closest to kirk for reasons she can't explain.

given her father's popularity in australia, comparisons were not easy to escape. she leads a very private life, away from the prying eyes of the gossip magazines. every few years, she carefully composes a statement that she releases to the press, giving minor, inconsequential life updates.

now, it is important to note that while the basis of this au is based in real life, almost all of it is fiction. the true story of michael hutchence and the people he left behind, including daughter tiger lily, is sad.

here is a link to an article by the new zealand herald that talks about his downward spiral, brought on by a massive brain injury he suffered in the early nineties. as a result of this injury, he was left unable to smell or taste. he also lost his ability to regulate his emotions, and was prone to angry outbursts, a sharp change from a man who friends had said was calm, lively and full of spirit.

helpful links about the life and legacy of michael hutchence: inxs wikipedia page, michael's wikipedia page, podcast episode on michaels death, inxs' first interview since the death of micheal hutchence

to this day, saxophonist and guitarist kirk pengilly maintains that micheal spoke to him in a dream just days after his death, with the singer saying ‘I’m alright now, you don’t need to worry about me any more’

it's stated that micheal had a fear of not being loved, and a confirmed fear of growing old. i'd like to think that these are traits baby hutchence shared with her father until she met lance.

despite being australian by birth, micheal was buried in los angeles, where his mother lived. he is buried in the same cemetery as matthew perry. baby hutchence has never visited his grave.

lance and y/n would have met through a friend. and by friend, of course I mean kirk. kirk and his wife would have gone to a grand prix, and when kirk first laid eyes on lance, he had a gut feeling that he was a good fit for yn.

their first date would have been low key, on the beach at sunset. a picnic followed by a trip out on tim’s boat (before tim lost his fingers in a fishing accident).

they were married two years later. andrew thought they were rushing into it too fast. gary and kirk thought that when you know, you know (they also have four divorces between the two of them, so what do they know?)

all y/n and lance knew was that they were truly and madly in love, and that’s exactly where our au starts.

for those who want the full inxs story, please consider watching ‘never tear us apart’.

[8unknowndoee]

!!!!!!! MAGNUS PROTOCOL SEASON 1 EPILOGUE SPOILERS !!!!!!!!!

So, I want to scream. Forever- preferably into the black hole / universal brain altering horrific beauty that is the reality wound.

The next few paragraphs should be proceeded with caution- I might have actually gone insane while writing this and you can tell by the strange paste and everything as it slowly goes down and drowns with other t.v. show references because my mind was racing.

So, I guess don't read if you don't want random unimportant references to Gravity Falls, Teen Wolf and My Babysitter's a Vampire.

Okay, first off. I both live in fear and excitement for the OIAR under Gwen's leadership because she is clueless. She is in the same position of power as Elias as in Archives but the exact opposite on everything else. She has no clue of the horrors that are truly around her, the few externals she has met is nothing in comparison to what Lena must know- to what Elias knew. Unlike Elias, Bastard of the Eye, his eyes are wide open to everything.

Gwen? Gwen has her eyes shut closed tightly and those few moments with the externals she spent was just her squinting at the bright light of horror that the actual world she lives in is. She doesn't even know what to do now that she is appointed Lena's position, she's just waiting there, tapping her nails away on her desk. She doesn't have a clue on what to do. She might have honestly aimed for a position of power she had no clue about, she just wanted the position and maybe the power that came with it within the OIAR without clearly seeming to think through what Lena might have been doing behind closed doors.

She's floundering and maybe if things had been alright, she could have learned slowly- if not in its own spectacularly horrible way but now? Now? Now is actual hell, Sam and the Archivist, in their eyes, presumably died. Colin is most likely dead inside their own work room's servers. The only one who may have had some sort of clue was fired and gone, leaving someone who has their eyes shut leading it all and we still don't know what Teddy might bring to the table.

Also, about the Colin ending, he might actually be dead or that ending became the most fucked version of Soos crawling into the arcade game machine in the world- it'll be that episode of My Babysitter's a Vampire where Rory was taken over by the sentient tree's crossbreed roots of electronic and plant life except it's all in one server machine rather then a school's computer room and crossbreed of him rather then plant life. Which is horrifying if he's still aware.

Which, Hello?

Did the Freddie Program do this separate to the three voices within it, just a machine that has been corrupted in a way similar to the tape recorder being able to bite? Did Jon? Martin? Jonah? Some fucked sense mix of the three's consciousness trying to move things along? Will Jon, who has been shown to place his hands into things via emails and specifically placed statements, send Gwen emails as a way to guide her into doing what he wants, guide Alice or Celia into something else?

In a fucked up sense will Jon become the Eye to this group of people, except more hands on? Will he be something similar to the Web and the Eye in the way where he isn't just watching as the Eye had but also playing a part in it well enough to pull strings along?

Is Jon building his own web of manipulations and schemes in this world, to become a later antagonist? Are the other two aware of this?Is Jon aware of this? I might actually go insane with how many random thoughts my brain is just coming up with as I write this.

Colin- Colin. My bastard, I'm in pain because we saw so little of him, less than Sasha which is why I'm leaving that horrified ending scream not as a 'he's dead!' and more of an horrifying open-ending of Colin pulling a Corey being part of the train stations's electrical manufacturing in Teen Wolf- like, it would be horrifying if he's alive let alone aware of everything that is happening but anything to make the problems here even larger. Colin fighting Jon literally from the inside.

Finally, the smallest but biggest thing of the whole Epilogue, Sam. He's alive! Hadn't doubted that because main character but what of the Archivist- what of the world they landed in? Is it our post-apocalypse world of Magnus Archives or new, crueler/kinder world? The tape recorder is there and we heard from it so we will hear from Sam still in this new world along with those in the OIAR within the computers, phones and lines.

I'm passing out now, the black hole / universal brain altering horrific beauty that is the reality wound has been screamed into.

[princeescaluswords]

And now for something a little different ...

I was thinking about my favorite shows, and I noticed a particular trope that connects them. I want to talk about it, because I think it's interesting, though I might be the only one. However, if you believe Game of Thrones was nothing but a misogynistic dudebro power fantasy and/or you think that Teen Wolf was nothing but shirtless young men and dub step, there is nothing in this post for you. To be fair, I have reservations about the writing of both shows, especially in the later seasons, but I also think a lot of the writing was deliberate, considered and worth examining.

I want to talk about The Good Man. (I use the male noun because I seldom, if ever, see this applied to female characters. That's another meta entirely.)

Eddard Stark is presented in the show as a good person. He is respected by his family, his peers, his vassals, and even his enemies. While he does make some serious mistakes (things would have gone differently if he had decided to investigate the deserter's claims in the first episode rather than simply dismissing them in a rush to execution), few viewers have claimed that good people must be without flaw. He has principles to which he is devoted, such as loyalty to his country and personal responsibility for those with power, e.g. "He who passes the sentence should swing the sword." He has compassion even for individuals like Joffrey.

Scott McCall is presented in his show as a good person. He is respected by his family, his peer, and even his enemies. While he does make some serious mistakes (things would have gone differently if he had refused to go with Stiles during Wolf Moon), few viewers have claimed that good people must be without flaw. He has principles to which he is devoted, such as the right for everyone to have a life and personal responsibility for those with power, e.g. "And you know this thing's gonna get out of control. That makes me responsible." He has compassion even for individuals like Peter Hale.

So why does Ned Stark die and Scott McCall survive? Of course, they appear in different stories existing in different genres, and Westeros is a little more brutal than twenty-first century Northern California, but I propose that there is a specific test that both narratives make of their Good Men, which Ned fails and Scott passes.

In Game of Thrones, this test occurs in The Kingsroad (1x02) and in Teen Wolf, this test occurs in Abomination (2x04).

We don't get to see Robert's Rebellion in the show, but we do get to hear a lot about it. Robert rides all the way to Winterfell because he is absolutely sure that the one person he can trust to help him hold his kingdom together is Ned. Ned doesn't want to leave Winterfell, but he is torn by his sense of responsibility to the kingdom and his personal loyalty to Robert. It's the suspicion of Jon Arryn's murder that pushes Ned into taking the position of Hand. Ned will discover the truth and if it is, bring the murdered to the King's Justice.

By the end of The Kingsroad, Ned should understand that there is no King's Justice, not anymore. The marriage between Robert and Cersei is a sham, Cersei is vindictive and cruel, Joffery a spoiled brat, but, most importantly, Robert is not the same friend he was twenty years ago. The death of Lady is an injustice, agreed to by Robert simply to buy himself some peace and quiet. The death of Micah is a greater injustice, one that doesn't even have a degree of dignity of being the result of a direct order. The Hound cut the butcher's boy down like he was chopping wood.

But Ned does nothing with this new knowledge. He sees the corruption and clings to his principles -- his responsibility to the realm and his personal loyalty -- that stand opposed to it, while not adjusting his behavior or expectations accordingly. This is the first time, but it's not the last: the realm's financial status, the useless tournament, the sending of assassins against Daenerys, Robert's gross behavior, etc. He will keep believing that the realm is worth defending as if it were twenty years ago and that his friend is still the same regardless of any experience to the contrary, and Ned will die for his refusal to change.

Note, I don't blame Ned for being tricked by Littlefinger, a childhood friend of his wife's, because I don't blame people for being deceived by liars, but there was plenty of evidence from which Ned could have learned he had to alter how he manifested his principles.

Which is why Scott survived and Ned didn't. Up until the end of Abomination, Scott keeps trying to work with Derek while maintaining his principles, which includes independence and saving lives. Yet, even after Stiles heroically held a paralyzed Derek in a pool for hours, even after Scott arrived and drove away the kanima, Derek demonstrates he is still deeply mistrustful of everyone (including himself), Derek demonstrates that lethal force is his go-to strategy ("When I find it, I'm going to kill it"), and that he is blinded by his hatred for the Argents. Note: I don't think there's anything wrong with Derek hating the Argents but there is a problem when he won't look past that anger for the greater good. If Derek had been willing to work with the Argents, it might have scuttled Gerard's plans. Then, Scott gets up close and personal with Gerard, which is painful and scary, but it does gives Scott something he can use against Gerard.

And here is the point: he doesn't share this with Derek, when he's tried to work with Derek in the past. Instead, he pretends to work with Gerard by infiltrating Derek's pack in order to be in a position where he can use the cancer against Gerard. Scott's principles still remains; he wants to resolve the conflict with as little death as possible. However, he changes how that principle manifests in his actions when it is clear that his previous method -- working openly and honestly with Derek -- not only isn't working, but it can't work.

To summarize, principles, the hallmarks of the Good Man, only work if they are used to guide the good person's reactions to the situation at hand. They don't work if they determine the good person's reactions. Ned's principles were set twenty years ago and remained static. Scott was willing to change how he achieved his desired result if his previous attempts weren't working. (As a digression, this is a rebuttal of Peter's insincere "shades of gray" criticism of Scott.) The comparison isn't flawless by any means, but I do think it's enlightening.

[thestarsarecool]

An anecdote about the kindness of Linda McCartney:

JON RONSON: I was thinking of other people, the people I was writing about, as sort of specimens. Specimens to try and figure out. “Specimens” is such a horrible word – puzzles to try and solve. I was so concerned with trying to figure out why they were behaving the way that they did; they were like maths equations.

CHRIS HEATH: The irony being that, on one hand, you’re trying to figure out all these human things, but at the same time you’re not treating them as human at all.

JR: Yeah, exactly. And let me once again say that these were my early days of writing. This is before I became the writer that I am now. But that’s exactly what it was. I’d gone from being, you know, the bullied kid at Cardiff High to... I definitely wouldn’t say I was like a bully, because I had no malevolent intent whatsoever, but it was exactly what you just said: I was so concerned about trying to figure out why they behaved the way that they did, what made them human, that I sort of forgot that they were human. And I was getting loads of work because people loved that stuff.

CH: Which perhaps leads to the rather chilling story about an aside you once made about Paul McCartney.

JR: Yeah, it was Christmas. I had to go back home and visit my family, so the train was going to be leaving and I had to finish the column and there was, like, a paragraph missing. And I just thought, “Fuck it.” It was when Paul McCartney’s ‘Rupert the Bear’ chorus song was all over the place, ‘We All Stand Together’. It was playing at all the stores. And I wrote, “God, if I hear that song one more time… Mark Chapman shot the wrong Beatle.” I thought, “Okay, that’ll do.” And a few weeks later, I got a letter from Linda McCartney: “So are you saying that my husband and the father of my children should be murdered by the man who killed his best friend?” It was like a slap awake: I don’t want to be Victor Lewis-Smith, I don’t want to be Julie Burchill, that’s not who I am. And I should stop trying to be it. I wrote back to her, and I said, “You know, I thought you lived in icon land. I’m sorry.”

CH: She didn’t acknowledge your reply?

JR: Oh, no, she did. She wrote back.

CH: What did she say?

JR: She said, “I totally understand and thank you for listening.” It was a very nice reply.

CH: Did you ever run into her?

JR: No, never. Very recently, actually, a couple of weeks ago, I got a call from somebody saying that Paul McCartney is bringing out a book of his lyrics, and he wants somebody to interview him: “Would you want to be considered? Are you available?” I said yes, as long as I didn’t need to quarantine for ten days on arrival. I’m sure they’ve got somebody else by now, because of the quarantine thing. But I was thinking, “Wow, if I did do it, should I tell him?” Because it was a kindness, what she did. It was a kindness.

CH: And you really did take that lesson seriously at the time?

JR: Really seriously. Because I was being somebody that I wasn’t.

Jon Ronson, Interviewed by Chris Heath, 2021. Ronson also described this episode in this piece in the Guardian in 2007.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 132 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence.

Although there's not sooo much going on in this episode, it's in my list of favorites. Daisy hit me like a train in this episode... I hated her in S2 and S3. Pretty much everybody did, I guess?

Fun story, when I recommended TMA to my father in law I told him to start at episode 1, that it looks like individual stories, but they're not and it's important to get the full scope of the story. Some days later he told me he started TMA and listened to that one episode "where they're in a cave or something"... My brain scanned through the episodes, first I thought he meant MAG 15, but then he was like "no like, two characters, one in search of the other" and it clicked that he meant THIS episode and I’m just like "WTF, you started in S4???" Without any context it fortunately was not enough to really act as a spoiler, and he then proceeded to follow my instruction and started from the beginning.

JON: "But I know what I’m doing; this time I do. I, I hope." The "I hope" kind of devalues the "I know" ^^'

JON: "I have her voice. I think that should be enough to find her" There is so much focus on voice in TMA. Yeah, it's a podcast, so all we really have are their voices, but other aspects can be described if needed. But the Not!Them couldn't alter voice recordings. Jon's voice is essential to his compulsion ability. Jon uses Daisy's voice to find her. (Further down the story Jon's voice will bring the Fears through. The Web took Jon's voice to tie the Fears together...)

JON: "but if this goes wrong, all you lose is – (abrupt) I’m not risking anyone else." Does he now think he made the wrong choice to wake up? Because since he has come back to the Archives, he doesn't sound like he thinks he's worth enough to live, not when compared to the others.

JON: "Not if I – can’t find my way out. When I first came down, I could feel it, the – the part of myself I left outside, but – (inhale) But it’s been getting fainter and now…" I'll believe he could feel specifically the rib when he first walked in. It's like climbing down a rope. But the moment the rope ends and you lose it, it's not prominent enough to find it again, not that far down. The tapes however were made to bind the Fears. Connections are what the Web's about.

After the first few lines of Daisy you already know she's different. The edge to her voice and that fierceness is gone.

JON: "Sorry. Obviously. No, I just meant – Y-You sound – okay." Yeah, that's what I meant xD

JON: "No. I know where we are. There is n-no out, not here. This is – This is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down. This is The Buried, and we are alive. There isn’t even an up." Yeah, way to go, I'm sure that's gonna help Daisy xD (I know, if the practical claustrophobic part won't get you, then the existential dread might do it for you^^ Like me, I like this kind of horror more.)

DAISY: "N-Not alone, though." JON: (barely a whisper) "No. No, not alone." <3

DAISY: "I thought – thought I’d (breath) I’d ne-never see the sky again, never – (close to breaking) never s-see Basira – (she composes herself) But – But – But now – you – you’ve got out of, of, of other stuff like this; maybe, maybe you’ll get out of this, and, and then take me with you. (heavy breathing) But I don’t know what I’ll be out, outside." Yeah, that sort of stuff can keep you going! Like in MAG 66. That little rays of hope which the statement giver just wouldn't allow to get his will crushed when they faded again. The Fear loosens its grip when it's not getting fear, when you're not fueling it.

DAISY: " I just know that I – I don’t like who I was, back outside. I don’t want to be her again. I want – to be – better. (breathing) Mmm – (more breathing) Y-You know what I thought, when I woke up here? I thought this was hell. I wa– I was dead, and I was in hell. And I – (sob) I knew I deserved it. (strain) I don’t want t-to b-be a s-sadistic predator again. I-I don’t want to hobble around like some – pathetic wounded prey either. I don’t know which would be worse. But I’m sc-scared now. That I won’t ever get the choice." That was the same with Melanie. Those things make you want them, even need them. And sometimes you need something else to take it away from you to see what's it like without. A sneaky surgery without consent. Being entombed without any connection to other forces. Trying to cut that connection yourself just takes an enormous amount of effort, so you don't even start. Or it will actually make you lose yourself (like Gertrude said in MAG 130, they fade without purpose), if that is the only thing that you define yourself with. It reminds me very much of a debate going on in art circles. Romanticizing suffering, the desire to be sad. A lot of motivations come from suffering, from trauma, depression. And it has always been fueling art. But what happens, if artists think they will run out of fuel when they run out of hurt? They don't want to get better. People have been in this kind of placed for so long, they don't even know how else to do it... You're stuck, just continuing in the same way somehow (like in the coffin, heh!). There is something you have to be willing to let go and you don't know what happens to you, if you do and that's scary.

JON: "One thing I’ve learned, Daisy, is that we all get a choice. Even if it doesn’t feel like one." That is the question of the whole story... Do we?

DAISY: "I realized – you were in my dreams. R-R-Reliving – this. T-The coffin. You were there." JON: "Yes." DAISY: "Didn’t think it was real. Not really. Just my mind putting you there, because I hated you, but no. One night, you turn up in a new shirt. Didn’t fit you. Not your style.(shaky breath) I-I didn’t think much of it, just a-a dream. Then you come back from the States, and guess what you’re wearing." 1.) Not really-counter of S4: 3! 2.) Jon's "Yes." More like "I know"... 3.) What shirt do you think Jon was wearing? Go! (I’m on board with something like 30 & flirty xD)

JON: "M-My, My, My anchor, my – the, a rib; I can f– I can feel – I know the way." I think this is kind of up to interpretation. My personal preference goes like this: He doesn't outright say "I can feel my rib". His first words are "my anchor", so he feels something connecting him, doesn't have to be the rib. He can't describe it, what he feels, he just knows how to follow it. He’s right to assume it’s the rib of course, that why he got it out in the first place.

JON: "Tape recorders. Must – must be dozens of them." What's preeeetty certain that it's actually doing something are the tape recorders, otherwise it wouldn't be the narrative device for the whole podcast + particularly in this instance here. Already said above, their purpose is to bind. The Web is about connections and how to influence them, weave them together or bring them apart, depending on what it is the Spider wants. And the Spider wants Jon to make it out. More on that in MAG 134, because we learn more about what happened here and also I think this post already got pretty long, sorry for that, I hope you like reading?^^

@a-mag-a-day

[ataritouchme]

it is really just amazing to go back and look at lib-y stuff from the mid 2010s and see the dramatic differences in political tone between pre-BLM and post-BLM.. stuff. suddenly even the Centrist white dudes were drawing lines in the sand. i remember watching the episode of the daily show that came out after michael brown was murdered (i think it was him? maybe trayvon martin idk its all such a blur to me im sorry) where jon stewart puts on his serious voice he would typically only reserve for 9/11 or whatever and be like “look yall might not wanna hear this but the experiences of white americans are fundamentally different than those of black americans” and then like a few months later he was gone off tv. right? i think that timeline makes sense. and crash course has a similar thing going on. old series didnt really touch on race relations in the us even us history which… looking back is awkward to say the least but i suppose if ur pandering to the apush crowd its probably sensible since the ap test is never gonna have like an essay question about how america is built on racism and subjugation of black ppl and ppl of color in general. or idk maybe it does now. but it certainly didnt in 2013. but then literature has so much content about black authors and authors of color and actually has like deeper than surface level exploration of how those authors experiences of racism and colonialism informed their writing. idk its just nice to see that at least on some maybe superficial level but some level still the centrist white dudes actually stopped being spineless.

[ratarchbishop]

Good evening folks,

I'm fixated on The Magnus Archives, and with The Magnus Protocol coming up, I thought it best to talk about some of my favorite statements in the original 5 seasons, and do a little bit of a deep dive into why I find them quite enjoyable.

I'm gonna start up with what I find to be a personal favorite, MAG 85 "Upon the Stairs". I'll be discussing the synopsis of the statement, then talk it a bit afterwards. I will be discussing spoilers for some of the entire series. here be your warning.

Content Warning: Unreality, Depersonalization, Compulsion, Compulsion To Harm Loved Ones, Body Horror, Being Trapped

---[Click]---

Statement Begins

I am a firm believer in the album "Everywhere at the End of Time" by the Caretaker is the Spirals theme, and this specific episode is most certainly finding itself as "It's just a burning memory" as it's song. Just a vibe I get.

The statement begins, as per usual, rather eerily. With the statement giver seeming to be confused, or in a fugue state, mentioning the only true memory they currently hold onto being a poem by William Hughes Mearns named "Antigonish". Reading it off, Jon, who we find out later in the series is using the statement givers persona, seems to almost read it like a parent reading to a child. Despite the poems disturbingly confusing contents, Jon reads it excitedly, but with hesitance.

This is where we begin to see the statement givers "descent into the spiral". There is no man on the staircase. The statement giver used to imagine that it was just a translucent man just barely visible atop the staircase, but with the actual experience of it, there is no man, but there is. At least to their perceptions. A delusion that soon embodies them. They go on to explain that they had a family, though they live alone. The first time they met The Man Who Wasn't There, he blocked the statement givers way to get up the stairs, and TMWWT offered them to come up the stairs. Then, the stairs became that of a spiral, with the author going up, and TMWWT always being 3 steps ahead without moving. This went on for half an hour, with the author noting there were no walls. Then, suddenly the author wakes up in their bed.

The man isn't on the stairs anymore until one day the author follows the poem, demanding he show himself and demanded that he go away. Following this was a descent of reality, with his family and friends perception of him being "less real", to the point of being unrecognizable. When the author started to fade, The Man Who Wasn't There became more real.

The statement givers parents come for dinner, though any conversation they have is short lived, ending in a few words. His mother asking where her son was, the author then asks his mother what her son's name is. After this, her mother's mouth started leaking a tad bit of blood, the father already dead from having the giver take him "down the stairs". The author then notes that the parents weren't seen again.

The statement ends with The Man Who Wasn't There becoming so real he could "laugh his own existence", crumbling to ash after realizing he'd died. Going on, the author presumably becomes Thean Who Wasn't There, remarking a poem, not to dissimilar to the beginning of the statement.

Statement Ends

---[Click]---

After statement tangent here, in the way that Spiral statements usually are, it is rather hard to paraphrase the statement without sounding utterly delusional. However, I do want to touch on why I find this statement scary, and why I mentioned "Everywhere at the end of time" earlier. I'm of the personal believe that cognitive degenerative diseases such as Alzheimer's Disease are really terrible and terrifying, and as someone who's known people who've gone through such cognitive impairment, the thought of losing myself and my surroundings all at once is not only isolating but is likely one of my personal deepest fears. This statement feels like it comes from the perspective of someone's perception of self and reality slipping, which is exactly what the Spiral embodies I suppose. I also felt a particular unknown aggression coming from the Author that comes later in this statement, with him making the objective decision to kill his family for unknown reasons. This is something somewhat reminiscent of "Sundowning", where folks with cognitive impairment become particularly more aggressive, or confused happening particularly after the sunsets. While this statement might not be objectively horrifying like that of the next episode [MAG 86: Tucked In], I find the subject and the statement giver really what makes this entire statement shine. I also will comment, whilst I think this statement is more synonymous with cognitive impairment, there is likely a derealization disorder that may also be very synonymous, with mental illness and disabilities being a section of what the Spiral is the casual fear/domain over.

Continuing for the added complexity of this statement, I feel the statement giver wanted it to feel like the poem, being their only memory that holds strong in their mind, with the statement opening and closing with a poem, and little nods to the poem as his descent into the spiral begins. A common thread linking events together, until eventually he also becomes a man who shouldn't be there, presumably a successor.

Es Mentiras

(Are You Alright?)

[total-james]

Simpsons Rewatch Season 1 - part 1/2

I'll be rewatching The Simpsons, I think I'll stop at season 10, because that's when it started to REALLY decline, so let's start!

Simpsons Roasting on an Open Fire (written by: Mimi Pond)

A fine official start for The Simpsons! I'll say, I do have nostalgia glasses for some episodes, but this one? Not really, I do remember watching it, but it never stuck with me (this will change when we get to the Halloween Specials and a few select later season episodes.).

This episode will in fact set the precedent for the rest of the season, character-focused episodes with a ton of heart. I really enjoyed how they already had a grasp on the character dynamics and how they'd play off each other! AND as a long-time watcher, you can compare how they got... FLANDERIZED("he said the word! 😯")

The animation is definitely not really good, but it's charming and it manages to portray what it needs to (hell, we even got some well-framed shots and funny visual gags)

The audio mixing is trash! The characters' voices sound disconnected and the sound effects and music can be extremely overbearing.

Bart the Genius (written by: Jon Vitti)

"Eat my shorts."

This episode doesn't stick out in my memories as much, but damn if it isn't iconic, so many one-liners, so many scenes, and plenty of legacy characters introduced here. I do like how Martin is more snooty and Seymour has some balls and presence.

Absolutely loved Homer and Bart's dynamic in this episode, Homer is the father who is trying hard to do the best for his family, but has his shortcomings, and Bart... ADHD kid.

The animation is quite great! It's fluid and the expressions are gold. The sound mixing is also decent, thank god. Hey, the iconic opening AND couch gag? This episode feels more like a start than the last one, IMO.

Unrelated, but as the years have gone by, the more I relate to Bart, weird... (guess when I finish college I'll be Homer...)

Homer's Odyssey ( written by: Jay Kogen & Wallace Wolodarsky)

Watching this while my mum is trying to score a job is sure encouraging...

But this episode is starting the trend of "starting one way" to segway into an unrelated(eh) plot, it gets more extreme as the years go on for sure.

I found this episode pretty O.K.! I like how it gets to show that Homer may not be that incompetent, even if the signs start to get comically redundant, he still gathers a following.

The theme of this episode is the friction between "Stereotypical provider of the home" and "Unemployment" and I quite enjoy what it does with it, I didn't live in the 90s but this episode might hit even HARDER now in his economic crisis we're going through world-wide (esp. if you're from a third world country like yours truly.)

... OH hey, black Smithers! AND... Mr.Burns sounds so different here...

There's No Disgrace Like Home ( written by: Al Jean & Mike Reiss )

Oooh, the OOC episode, the premise is nice, but I can't get behind Marge, Lisa and Homer being completely different, well Homer I can almost get behind, but the other two? nah

HEY, Dean Martin's "Hey Brother Pour the Wine" (at least I know through him)

This episode is pretty nostalgic, I do love the family snooping around their neighbourhood, ha ha very cartoon-like.

Bart the General ( written by: John Swartzwelder )

Another Bart-focused episode! This one was lots of fun, some witty one-liners and cool visuals.

I really like how Bart actually acts like an unruly kid. I especially love how Marge and Homer were no help to the conflict, ha ha! Homer appearing in Bart's head is also a funny gag.

This episode finally started the "Lisa is a nerd" thing that would follow her and become her.

...Family Jewels...

This episode feels like it would be controversial in the 90s, but today it's harmless.

Moaning Lisa ( written by: Al Jean & Mike Reiss )

Ooooh, the iconic one and the first Lisa-focused episode!

I really really enjoyed this episode. From the moment it starts it sets its tone and continues from there. Lisa's existential crisis and unwillingness to live. I really like how it plays it very subtly for a comedic series.

Her dynamic with Marge is also starting to take form. I enjoyed how it showed a bit of Marge's struggle with womanhood and having to please others and how it reflects on Lisa in the Climax.

I really liked how Blues and The sax have been a defining trait to Lisa from this point on, and Bleeding Gums still has more to do in the show so I don't have anything to say here.

The animation was very good! I liked the pixelated style in the video game and how it played with the colors palletes on different scenes.

[gruesomejack]

The water was cool against his scalp and the fingers that rubbed along it were gentle. Rabbit's mouth twitched, his body leaning into the touch just a little. He'd never had anyone but Baby see him through one of these episodes and Alex's presence was anchoring-- It was something to hold onto. When he stood again, his lashes fell against his cheeks, breathing soft and slow as the water dripped from his curls, while Alex washed his face. Rabbit shook again when he pulled away.

Andy's eyes widened at the suggestion of a sheet. Snapping his fingers, he reached out and gave Alex a gentle pat. "Good thinking. I-" He watched Rabbit take the shirt and just hold it. His dark hair was wet and hanging in his face, the water falling from the half formed ringlets, leaving pale-pink stains on the fabric. Andy frowned. He should've been disgusted with him, but he couldn't find it in his chest. Instead, looking at the pitiful state of him, he felt sorry. He should've gone to the hospital instead of letting himself bleed so bad-- He could've stayed up with Jon then. If he'd picked up on the signs, if there were any, maybe he could've done something to talk him though? Maybe they wouldn't be here and the look on his face wouldn't be making him want to sit down and cry. Hesitating, he walked over and dug a dish towel from one of the drawers. Reaching up then, he took him by the cheek and slowly squeezed the water from his hair and wiped it from his face until it was dry enough. He set it aside on the counter and took the shirt from him, pulling it over his head before letting him do the rest. "There you go." He said softly, "You okay?"

Rabbit stared at him. He still felt... adjacent from himself, but the pieces were pulling closer. But, he watched Alex pick up the mask, and his face twisted. Anxiety filled his lungs, his eyes squeezed closed, and he shook his head. He knew it had to go if he wanted to move on, but it'd been the only sense of security he had for fifteen years. The thought of losing it made him feel sick. Rabbit swung back around to the sink to dry heave and leaned forward, resting his head and arms against the counter edge as he trembled. His ears rang. It was the high pitched wailing of a dying creature over and over and over as the metal thud of a shovel snuffed the life right out of it. Rabbit choked and heaved again before breaking into a sharp whimper. It felt like loss.

"Jonny..." Andy rubbed at his jaw and swallowed. He wasn't sure he ever felt as helpless in his life as he did right now. Glancing back at the bag, his hands squeezed. He was moving to dig the stupid Rabbit mask back out. Holding it in his hands, he shot Alex a guilty look before approaching the sink. Turning the water on, he rinsed the blood from it before taking Jon's hand and placing it there. Without picking himself up, Rabbit curled his fingers around the leather strap and pulled it to his chest.

Andy closed his eyes for a few seconds and sighed slowly. He grabbed the dish towel he'd used to dry his hair and tossed it in the back, looking at Alex then and shrugging. "I don't know. Let's skip all the hard stuff for now and just get Alan as far away from here as possible. We can worry about the rest later when I go back tonight." He told him, "I'll grab a sheet. Just uh... I don't know. I don't know."

"Campbell!"

Andy peeked up from his food, beer, and paperwork with a wrinkle between his brows. His tired blue eyes met a pair of irritated browns, and immediately, he let them roll. Not Alan. Not now. The man was a pain in his ass and so were his kids. He'd gotten his girlfriend knocked up right out of graduation, and now his twins were on the baseball team. Good riddance; those two little chuckleheads were as bad as their father. Andy, unlike coach Wilson, didn't put up with it, and it made practice and games a yelling match between him and their piece of shit father.

"What's up, Alan?" He asked, pasting a polite smile on his cheeks as the man in question approached him. He was looking rough, like he'd thrown back a few too many drinks and was itching for a fight. Andy sighed. He didn't want to deal with that today, not after the bullshit with his mother he had to go through earlier.

"You quit? You quit on my kids?" Alan slurred, pointing a finger at him. "You're a bastard."

Glancing at the clock above the bar, Andy cocked a brow and frowned. "It's only three and you're fucking wasted, man. Why don't you go home?"

"Don't dodge! You fucking quit!" Alan shoved at his shoulder. "How the fuck are my kids supposed to compete? Get scholarships? We're counting on you!"

Andy furrowed his brow and shook his head. "They'll find another coach. I've got shit to take care of, and I'm not going to stick around just to babysit your snot-nosed brats." He said, his eyes starting to shine. "They're not my problem anymore, and frankly? Neither are you. Why don't you fuck off, Alan?"

Alan blinked before turning a very angry shade of red. Squeezing his fists at his sides, he only hesitated a second before grabbing Andy by the back of his jacket and throwing him on the floor of the bar. He dove down to throttle the man. He threw a punch and then another, the third being blocked by Andy's forearms. "You're a piece of shit, Campbell! You know what you mean to us!" He barked, shoving his hands away and swinging again. "You can't just quit!"

Andy rolled and threw one of his own. "It's my life!" He hissed, "I'm not being pushed around by you people anymore! Fuck you and your shitty kids!" Spitting the blood in his mouth at the man, he tried to scramble away only to get yanked back by the belt. Alan reached for the bar and grabbed the beer bottle Andy had been nursing. He smashed it against the floor and knocked him down again, just barely managed to slash him from his lip and up his cheek before he was being pulled off by the bar tender.

"Nowak! I told you last time if you started anything else, you're banned! Get out of here before I call the damn cops!" He hissed and shoved him towards the door. Watching him stumble out, he glanced down at Andy and helped get him up to his feet. "Fuck, he got you good. Want me to call the squad?"

Andy stumbled and touched his cheek only to hiss. His skin felt sticky with blood, and his fingers were warm and red when he pulled them away. Shaking his head, he let out a slow breath. "No. I'll be fine. Uh-... Sorry." He said softly. Pulling a few bills from his pocket, he handed them over before grabbing his things and slipping out, too.

By the time he got back to the apartment, his jacket was stained around the collar with blood. The side of his face and neck were sticky and red, and his body had taken on a slight tremble. He should've stopped at the ER, but he'd had enough of the public for today. He was sure he had some super glue to fix his face.

Rabbit peeked up from his spot on the couch next to Alex when he heard the door unlock and open. The smile that had pulled across his face immediately fell at the sight of Andy, his breath hitching in his chest. Setting the book in his lap aside, his eyes tracked him as he moved into the kitchen and started to dig around in the drawers. "...What happened to you?"

"Bar fight." Andy cursed and shoved the drawer closed. Moving to the next one, he shuffled around through the contents. After a second, he buckled and nearly sunk to the ground, just barely keeping himself up by holding onto the counter. "Come look for the superglue. I gotta.. I gotta sit down."

@purposefully-lost

[dathen]

Okay I have some complicated thoughts following Melanie’s arc that all build on top of each other and hinge HEAVILY on unreliable narrator interpretations so bear with me

In my relisten I’m at the beginning of s3, and it always shocks me a bit at how quickly she interprets Martin’s interaction with her as hostile.  I’m going to skip over the “it��s understandable, Melanie’s had a hard time in her career” disclaimers since there’s plenty of meta on that already, and instead follow the effects of this tendency: not on others, this time, but on her

(This got absurdly long and covers so many episodes so I’m going to split it into separate pre- and post-bullet surgery posts)

Rewinding a bit, the last time she was at the Institute, she was starting to get along with Jon before he seemed confused about her comment on “the other Sasha.”  It takes her a split second to interpret that confusion as him suddenly deciding to gaslight and mock her, gets angry and tells him there is something seriously wrong with him, and leaves before he can ask what she means.  Given how tenuous their truce was and the fact she and Jon had mocked each other in the past, it’s an outburst that at least has some personal history behind it.

But only a couple episodes later, we learn that it’s not just Jon she responds to in this way.  In TMA 84, she meets our Martin Blackwood!  Customer service voice opposite-of-Jon politeness extraordinaire!  And as soon as he gets confused about the two Sasha comment, she.......immediately assumes that HE is also trying to gaslight her.  She insists that “I’m not doing this again” without giving him a chance to ask or explain, so they miss the opportunity to piece together the deal with the Not!Sasha.  Her doing this with someone she just met shows a much broader pattern than her interactions with Jon.

That very episode, Elias offers Melanie a job, and she accepts despite Martin’s protests.  Later, she accuses them all of them being an “old boy’s club” because she interpreted Martin’s warnings as sexism rather than trying to protect her.  As the audience, we see the unreliable narrator of her perspective at work: we know that Jon and Martin were genuinely confused, and we know that Martin was trying to save her, and that all of these instances were her seeing it as people being out to get her.

Hop forward to the notorious gossip scene in TMA 106.  Here, Melanie complains about Martin being hostile to her.  My first assumption was that this was all offscreen, but after this parade of misinterpretation and comparing to her and Martin’s actual interactions, I have to wonder:

TMA 84, after Martin tells Melanie about the murder, and right before Elias interrupts:

Martin:  Are you sure you’re alright?

Melanie:  Yes!  I just got… God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?

Martin:  The end of what?

Melanie:   Everything.  Friends, clues, savings. Everything.  Options.  There’s nowhere left for me to go . I don’t know why, but…  I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.  And talking things out with Jon.  I mean, I mean he’s awful, but at least he listens, you know?

Martin:   (soft) Yeah.  ...I’m sorry.  Um, is there anything that I could, like, maybe...do for you?

They get interrupted immediately after this, so this was the first impression Melanie was given.  Then, when Elias offers the job, she...assumes Martin’s “I don’t think that’s a good idea” is from sexism, when he’d just been talking about murders and disappearances that caused that very job opening.

TMA 88 

Melanie:   Are you alright?

Martin:  Yeah… Sorry, just a lot of change recently, y’know.  You and John and Sasha and… everything’s gone a bit wrong.  It’s the not knowing, you know?  I mean, Jon’s still alive.  Not sure why, but I’m sure of that.  But Sasha, I…

Melanie:   Yes, it’s… it’s probably, um…

Martin:   Sorry, sorry, I’m...  What do you need?

Next interaction!  Oh this one HURTS.  Martin takes her question literally, and starts telling her why she’s not alright, a reverse of their earlier exchange.  But Melanie came by for a question and wasn’t prepared for an honest answer, so Martin quickly reels it in and asks what he can do for her once again.

Skipping forward a bit in that same scene:

Martin:   Oh, you weren’t here when we took the place over from Gertrude!  It’s been over a year just to get it like this.  I mean, I think the database was on Jon’s list, but--

Melanie:  So how do you track someone down?

Martin:   Oh, oh well, y’know, we’ve a few contacts in various record offices around the place.  Aside from that it’s just… just a bit of detective work, really.  Tim used to do a great line in impersonating people to utility companies!  Heh, the number of times he got them to give him ‘his own’ address--

Melanie:  Right, right… Um, this one, the name is 'Jude Perry.’ Doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?

I LOVE THIS EXCHANGE.  I TREASURE IT.  Having bottled up his emotions, Martin is going in full Friendly Helpful Coworker mode.  There are so many little details here signaling that he’s embracing her as part of the team, sharing anecdotes about Tim’s shenanigans and Jon’s old plans, looping her in as One of Them as he helps her get what she needs.  This is the kind of approach you go to management trainings to get, to help new hires feel welcome and part of things.  But alas, Melanie is in a hurry and wants to cut to the chase, so all this is lost on her.

TMA 98 - I won’t copy it all in here because it’s long, but this is an overwhelmingly positive interaction.  She asks if he’s okay, but he bottles it up and says he’s fine.  This time, she presses, and he admits it’s because of the statements.  Martin ends up asking for help!! and Melanie agrees!  She’s on the way to murder Elias, but she still gets credit for “I’ll ask him to cut you some slack.”  Then she invites him to drinks!

And then.... TMA 106

Melanie:   Anyway, Martin’s always been lovely to you.

Basira:  Hmm. I don’t know, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist.

Melanie:   Ahhh. I got the exact same when Jon was hiding out, and came to me with his “source on the inside” stuff.  Martin was not impressed.

WAIT WHAT

We just looked over all their interactions!  They were all soft and lovely and welcoming!!  But then we hear Melanie with “well unlike how he is to me, Martin is nice to you.”  This was taken at face value for years, but when you line up all of the above, I feel there is a strong basis to say this is another case of Melanie’s first impressions + over-defensiveness gone wrong.  Just like we saw her initial bickerings with Jon solidify into series-long hostility, her interpreting Martin’s confusion as gaslighting and warnings about the job as sexism seems to have doomed her opinion of him long-term.  We hear Martin being kind and concerned and welcoming, then hear Melanie contrast it as bad treatment.

Recently, a mutual considered this even further to how she talked about losing all of her friends with the Ghost Hunt UK circles:

Melanie:  Even back then, I could feel all my old friends starting to distance themselves from me. ...  I stopped asking the others for help, and I kept my research to myself. I talked to them less and less. By the time I was arrested, I think a lot of them had already given up on me.

I have to wonder...did this sort of dynamic play out here, too?  Did she assume that her friends’ concern was judgment or hostility?  Were they giving up on her, or did she lash out and push them away?  Either way, it’s easy to see parallels to s2 Jon in her description, here, with her withdrawing and diving alone into increasingly risky research without asking for help.  And s2 Jon definitely shared Melanie’s tendency to see offers for help and support as hostile.  (Aside:  I interpret her and Georgie as not very close at this point, like a networking contact rather than a friend; Melanie comes to Jon for someone to talk to about her struggles above her, and Georgie seems to be unaware of all of Melanie’s encounters pre-s3)

And on that downer note I am ending part 1...but PART 2 IS GOING TO BE WAY HAPPIER THAN THIS.  Here, we see Melanie with a lot of people who would have supported her if she let them:  Martin, Jon, possibly the friends she said abandoned her.  But in her effort to protect herself and not let history repeat for how she’d been hurt in the past, she ends up alone and spiraling.

[voiceless-terror]

I mean, I don’t believe in the predictive power of dreams, obviously, but still, it’s a deeply unsettling thing to find. I had Tim look into it, as I don’t entirely trust the others not to have written it as a practical joke and slipped it into the archives. - Episode 11, Dreamer

Jon stares down at the paper in his hands.

He’s had many an unkind thought towards Gertrude, his predecessor, the woman responsible for this mess and the current bane of his existence. She’s been the topic of most of his grumbling as he sorts through piles of nonsense and decaying cardboard boxes. He’s got no love lost for her, but that doesn’t mean he’s happy she’s dead. Or, specifically, to have a statement apparently predicting it through the medium of some prophetic dream. Ridiculous. He wants to feel detached, unaffected, but he can’t help the sickly sense of dread that creeps up his spine and lingers in his throat. 

It was your face and the expression upon it was far more fearful than any I had seen in eight years of wandering this twilight city.

Jon doesn’t know Antonio Blake and has no reason to believe him. But he’s known something’s wrong for a long time now.

He’s never admitted it aloud, never within his assistant’s hearing range, but he can feel it, as foolish as that sounds. This miasma of wrong, of being watched, of becoming...something else, that happens every time he records a statement. Despite the academic detachment he aspires to, he does attempt to empathize with each statement-giver and get into their mindset. But what he’s doing here...it’s different. He can visualize it so perfectly, the terror in their words sticking in his throat and setting his own heart pounding, as if he were the one experiencing it and not just regurgitating it to an ancient recorder. He’s always had an ‘overactive imagination,’ as his grandmother would say, but this is relentless in its manifestation. The fear is real, not imagined. Each statement draws him further and further away from the safety he used to cling to, where the only real cases were few and far between and the most sinister things lurking out there in the world were books and the monsters within them.

And as much as he wants to linger on the false accounts and take comfort in tearing them apart, his hands automatically seek the real ones, the right ones. It’s frightening, the ease with which he finds them nowadays. Perhaps he’s a better archivist than he thinks. 

She died and you’ll be next, something whispers to him. He’s being dramatic, as he’s wont to do, but it feels true. Every statement that doesn’t record correctly, every follow-up he has to qualify with an ‘I would dismiss this, but-’ is starting to add up. His nights have become restless. He often lies awake regretting that he ever took this job, that he left the relative safety of research for a position he’s not sure how to fill, his only reassurance Elias’s occasional emails that he’s ‘moving in the right direction,’ whatever that means.

Jon assumed he’d be more removed from the dangerous aspects of the job that research entailed- following up, going to locations, field work. And it’s true, he has assistants to do that for him now. Dependable, for the most part. And while he should feel safe in his tiny office with nothing but dust and paper and cobwebs (good lord, the cobwebs) he feels more unsettled and exposed than ever. He once joked he’d die of old age before getting the archives in order. But now a stroke sounds much more pleasant than whatever happened to Gertrude. If it’s true.

Perhaps it’s a joke, he thinks. Planted by one of the others, designed specifically to unsettle him. Well, it worked. 

It wouldn’t be surprising. He’s...not had the best start. The promotion was a surprise, but not wholly unexpected; he knew he’d been on Elias’s radar, though he wasn’t expecting it quite so soon. He’s young and unfortunately, it shows. The way he stutters through department meetings, talking about digitization while the others, all of whom have at least a decade on him, shoot pitying looks. He stays later and later, the desire to show some sort of progress even as he discovers more mess by the day. The permanent scowl that now graces his features becomes his armor as he walks the halls and feels himself becoming the uptight, unlikable curmudgeon everyone believes him to be. The one time I measure up to expectations, he can’t help thinking.

A joke. There’s a comfort in that. At least it’s familiar.

But it didn’t record to the laptop, his traitorous mind supplies. It's a bit sad he would prefer it to be a mundane attempt at bullying rather than a real expression of the supernatural, but he supposes it’s par for the course. There were many nights as a child he wished for the same thing, for that boy to go back to taking his lunch money and the occasional beating or two instead of…still, he dismisses it from his mind. You don’t know there’s a correlation. Follow up. Disprove it. 

He’s interrupted from his musings by a knock on the door and the vague outline of Martin through the frosted glass. “Come in,” he calls, attempting to inject some irritation in his voice to cover up the shakiness. “Did you need something?”

“Ah, I finished my write up for the Herbert case, was wondering if you had anything else for me?”

His hand hovers over the statement on his desk. He opens his mouth but then closes it, thinking better.

“Can you send Tim in, actually?”

______

“Sorry boss, I couldn’t find anything on this Antonio Blake fellow- well, at least with the details he provided, which were next to none. Proper spooky, though.”

Of his assistants, he trusts Tim the most with this sort of thing. 

On a surface level, it wouldn’t make sense to some. Tim can be loud and gregarious: the typical, charming extrovert. But he’s not unkind and he’s a hell of a researcher, especially when something grabs his interest. He digs into statements and doesn’t let go- not unlike Sasha, though he’s a bit better at empathizing and handling things...sensitively. Easily attuned to Jon’s moods, Tim’s always been willing to lend an ear whenever he gets too in his head about cases, helping him talk things through or on several memorable occasions, go down the rabbit hole with him. He’d taken the statement from his hands with an easy smile, though his face grew serious with the nervous look Jon shot him.

And if Tim couldn’t find anything, well. Maybe it was a prank after all.

He sort of wanted it to be true, frightening as the implications were. Because then it would mean this terrible, heavy feeling on his shoulders was real, and not just the byproduct of his own mediocrity. He doesn’t want to be scared, he doesn’t want to be in danger, but at least it would provide a real reason for panic, and not just his own inability to measure up.  He doesn’t want to prove them all right, collapsing under the stress of a job poorly done and so easily crumbling at a stupid, made-up statement, targeted as it may be. 

“A joke, then.” Jon says, rubbing a hand at his temples, trying not to let the hurt seep into his voice. Tim makes a commiserating noise.

“You know how people are, the institute isn’t exactly popular. You remember last Halloween, when-”

“Yes, I don’t need a reminder.” Jon sighs. He’d rather not relive that day, stressful as it was. “But that wasn’t quite what I was thinking.”

Tim stares at him for a moment, uncomprehending. Jon continues, attempting to make his hands busy as he pointlessly shuffles papers.

“It’s rather pointed, isn’t it? I doubt someone off the street would create such a detailed account of the death of an...archivist as opposed to the usual ghostly drivel.”

A look of pity flickers in Tim’s eyes and Jon has to turn away. “I don’t really think anyone here would-”

“Really? You don’t?” Jon lets out a mirthless laugh, rubbing a hand across his face as he stares down at his desk. “I’m not blind. Or deaf.” The derisive snorts if he goes off on ‘needless tangents,’ how Rosie pretends to be busy whenever he approaches Elias’s office, the way his name badge still reads ‘researcher’ after months of asking for a new one. He’s basically become a pariah.

“Jon, did someone say something to you?” The words are carefully chosen and he’s leaning forward now, making as if to stand up and god forbid, do something comforting. It’s not that Jon doesn’t want the comfort; he craves it more than anything. But he’s gone without for so long he doesn’t trust himself not to break at the gentlest of touches. Being on the receiving end of Tim’s protective streak is nothing new, but he shouldn’t need his assistant looking out for him like he’s some sort of helpless infant. 

He snorts derisively instead, covering up the insecurity and hurt with a sardonic, self-effacing smile. The kind he knows Tim hates. “They don’t need to. I’ve walked in on conversations, I’ve seen the way people go quiet, the looks they give me-”

“Hey,” Tim’s voice is low, like he’s dealing with a frightened animal. Jon wonders how he looks, if Tim’s going this soft. “Don’t listen to them, alright? You inherited a mess, we all did- but we’re doing our best, yeah? Study and record, like Elias said.” Jon doesn’t dodge the hand that finally lands on shoulder, and he’ll deny to anyone that he leaned into it. 

“Study and record.” He repeats listlessly, slumping back down into his seat. He’s let himself get too worked up, acting like a child instead of a boss. He’s not sure when he started wearing his heart on his sleeve, but Tim’s always been good at reading him. Though he’d rather people think him an arrogant ass than the seething mess of insecurity he truly is. 

“Atta boy.” The pat to his shoulder is purposefully light, devoid of Tim’s usually friendly force that sends him stumbling forward. “Now get out of here at a normal time, alright? We can grab lunch tomorrow. Just the two of us, if you like.”

Jon makes a noncommittal grunt, though the thought is nice.  He entertains the idea for just a moment, remembering their occasional outings back in research. Tomorrow he’ll make his excuses. He hasn’t been much of a friend as of late, and he’s not sure he deserves the kindness of company.

“And if there’s anyone that needs a stern talking to from me, I-” Tim wags a finger and Jon rolls his eyes, ignoring the pang of warmth the words send through his chest.

“Don’t, please. It’s fine.” It isn’t. “But...thank you, Tim.”

“Course.” A wink and a sloppy salute to lighten the mood, and Jon feels the tension in his posture ease minutely as Tim shuts the door behind him. 

He lets out a breath and reaches for the tape recorder. He’s wasted too much time already.  

Be careful. There is something coming for you and I don’t know what it is, but it is so much worse than anything I can imagine. At the very least, you should look into appointing a successor.

Good luck.

He fights a shiver as the man’s voice leaves him and the last vestiges of that twilight world fade back to his dimly-lit office. In his follow up, he tries to play it off as a joke. A bit of hazing for the new boss. And yet the uneasiness still creeps into his voice, and he ends another tape on a stilted, half-believed note.

If this is genuine…

Jon prays that it isn’t. 

And like most of his prayers, it goes unheard and unanswered.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/32165071

reblogs > likes

[bibliocratic]

45 or 10 from the kiss prompt for JonMartin? :)

Thank you!! :D Number 10 Already posted - > Number 19, Number 26, Number 38

Broad spoilers for S5 up to 194. Content warnings in the tags

MARTIN … and that’ll be all outside, and y-you’ll be able to see them, through the glass doors at the back. […] [muzzy] Jon?

[…]

[slightly more urgent] Jon.

JON [woozy, coming to] Hmm?

MARTIN Just. [obviously relieved] Just checking.

Thought you’d lost me?

MARTIN … a bit. Yeah.

JON I’m still here. [a shifting sound of unstable brickwork] I think one of my arms has gone to sleep.

MARTIN ‘s what happens when you bring the whole building down on us. JON [mock affronted] It was a team effort, thank you. MARTIN [a small quirking laugh, trailing off into a wet-sounding cough] My mistake.

… Jon?

JON … sorry, it’s – hard. To stay awake, now the Eye’s… [a self-deprecating sound] I didn’t realise how much I needed it.

MARTIN [trying to reassure] I know. It’s… it’s OK.  [a gasping wince] Fuuuck. Jesus.

JON Try not to move too much.

MARTIN [through gritted teeth] Fantastic advice. [another grunt of pain] N-not like there’s…  [shuddering inhale] … anywhere I can go.

[the silence is sober, a conversation already had and ran dry]

JON I think I can… give me a…

MARTIN W’ are you doing?

JON I can... if I just…

[the sound of a dead-weight dragging, laboured panting, several moments of this]

[the movement stops]

Argh. That’s… that’s better.

MARTIN [pushing for light-hearted] Any – huh – any excuse for a cuddle. You’re getting dust all over me. JON You weren’t going to be moving to me, so. It’s not exactly my fault you’re more comfortable to lie on than the floor.

MARTIN High praise there, don’t – heh [wincing gasp] use up all your compliments at once.

JON [tentative] It doesn’t hurt when I…?

MARTIN No. Well, yes, but no more than the rest of it anyway.

JON I can…

MARTIN Stay. Please, Jon. I’d… I’d like you to.

JON …

Think anyone’s noticed all this mess yet?

MARTIN I mean, my guess is that Hill Top Road’ll just look like a construction site  to anyone walking past. If it worked… if everything went… went back.

JON It worked. It has to have.

MARTIN [quiet] No one is coming then.

JON No. No, it’s just us.

MARTIN Right. Right. Suppose that’s not the worst conclusion.

JON [trying to keep himself together] No. It isn’t.

[silence for a few moments.]

JON Go – go on then. What’s next?

MARTIN What’s that?

JON Before. You were talking about the house.

MARTIN Oh. Thought you’d tuned out, to be honest.

JON I was listening.

MARTIN Any changes you’d make then?

JON Bigger garden. [a shifting creak of fabric – Martin gasps, and Jon apologises] Maybe a patio area.

MARTIN [winded, recovering with effort] Very fancy.

JON All that walking we did… think we – huh – deserve to be able to sit down in some deck chairs.

MARTIN Too right. [struggling, pushing the words out harsher] Your… your go then, lazybones.

JON What do you want me to say?

MARTIN Just… Tell me about a day we’d have. Any day.

JON [soft, tragically fond and heartbroken] Alright.

[clears throat] Right. So I’m… er, I’m in the kitchen. Um, cooking I guess?

MARTIN Heh, that’s a stretch – I’ve seen your kitchen skills.

[there’s muttering, and a tired chuckle] Ha, OK, sorry, sorry – spoiling the momentum. Carry on.

JON [affectedly prim] Thank you. Right, so I’m cooking. Pasta, o-or stir fry or – something easy, quick, not too much effort. It’s been a long day at work, and I left later than usual. It’s… yes, it’s dark outside, sometime in Autumn maybe, and I’ve put the heating on full blast. You’re… you’re usually home by now, but you… [trailing off]… you… um….

MARTIN [prompting] I’m caught in traffic?

JON [pulling himself back] Y-yes. You text me earlier, t-to tell me you’d got caught at the road works coming out of town, so you’re running late.

MARTIN Silly of me not to have taken the long way round to avoid it.

JON I’ve told you that. You haven’t replied but I know you’ve read it.

MARTIN I’m too proud to tell you you’re right.

JON Heh. Yeah. [a ripped-up out sound]

MARTIN What next then?

JON Give… give me a minute. I-I, er…

MARTIN It’s alright. No rush.

JON [recovering from whatever episode has passed] OK. I’ve… I’ve got the radio on. I’m listening to some sort of talk show, and they’re going on about a political scandal of some sort.

MARTIN Tories at it again?

JON Of course. [warming to the thought] I know the commentators irritate you, so I only put it on when you’re not at home or if I know you’re working upstairs. And I – um… I’ve fed the cats, but they’re hovering around my legs hoping I drop something.

MARTIN [gently teasing] Cats plural, then? We had only had the one before.

JON They’ve multiplied.

MARTIN Hm. Our squadron of cats know you’re a soft touch, and that you’ll accidentally-on-purpose drop something.

JON I would never.

MARTIN Liar.

JON True.

The cats are hovering. And I’m thinking about… well, nothing special. The day, things I want to get done tomorrow. I’ve got a pile of marking to do, but I’m going to leave it, because it’s Friday, and you’re always telling me I need to set healthier work-life boundaries.

MARTIN I’m being listened to? A true miracle.

JON Hush. Anyway, the food… it’s a pasta bake, and it’s in the oven. And I’m tidying up because the kitchen’s messy, and then I hear your key. You’re kind of muttering loudly and I can hear you through the glass in the front door. The lock sticks sometimes, but only ever when you use it.

MARTIN [pained, words pushed through teeth] S-so we’ve a cursed door. N-nice touch.

JON …

MARTIN A-and then…?

JON You… [groaning] Christ, I’m… I’m getting really dizzy.

MARTIN Shh. I-It’s alright, it’s ok. Close your eyes, deep breaths.

JON [a series of stuttering breaths] Y-you come in. Your bag slumps heavy on the floor, I’m always telling you it’ll give you a bad back, the weight you put in that’s making the straps fray. You kick off your shoes, b-but then you set them neatly by the door, right alongside mine. And then you greet the cats and stroke them behind the ears and you fuss and coo in a silly little voice at them.

And then you – you kiss me on the cheek. Without thinking. Not – not that it doesn’t mean anything. Like you’ve… [huff] you’ve done it so many times now it’s a habit, that we’ve had the chance to make over all the years we’ve had together…

…

Martin?

MARTIN [drowsy, words slurring] K-keep going love. I’m… ‘m listening.

JON [it is audibly harder for the words to come to him, but pushing on almost desperate, voice thick] … and I kiss you back, and ask you how your day was… you have a bit of a moan. Y-you’ve wrapped your hands around me now, and you’re freezing and I tell you if you don’t let go, the dinner’s going to burn, and you tell me the tea will be just fine for another minute, and I tease and ask if you’re speaking Northern again, l-like it’s a running joke of ours – and, huh – you pretend to be offended…

And while we eat, we talk. About… about so many little nothings we’ve made into somethings, a-and…

[drained, lost] I-I can’t think of anything else.

…

Martin?

[fracturing] Martin?

[a trembling swallowed sob] Alright. ‘s alright, you rest, I-I’ll keep going. Jus’ give me a minute to catch my breath…

[harsh inhale, exhale]

[inhale, exhale]

[inhale, exhale]

[stop]

[cuttoothed]

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

*

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

[nat-20s]

Part 4 of Wonderful! Au! This one isn’t an episode! And It’s not funny! It does, however,  provide the context around Part 3! Also, Jon signs in this one, and sign languages have their own grammar and structure, but I display his signs translated into English and denote them with <> instead of “”. Here goes!

~*~

When, two days ago, Jon woke up gasping at 3 am, Martin didn’t think anything of it. Their nightmares were much like their chronic headaches: sometimes occurring daily, sometimes going weeks in without showing up. They were uncomfortable, surely, and sometimes had lingering effects, but there was a routine to them that took away much of their sting.

When he then throws off the covers, grabs the pack of cigarettes that only gets touched maybe three times a year, and makes a beeline for their balcony, Martin realizes that something worse is going on. Dread starting to settle in his stomach, he attempts to stave it off through action. He grabs the comforter  and puts on a pair of slippers, going to accompany Jon. The early morning spring air is bracing enough to someone like himself, who, barring a certain deeply unpleasant year, had always run hot, it must be awful for the heat sink that is Jon. Sure enough, he finds Jon shifting on his feet, trying not to shiver too much as he’s handling the lighter.

Getting closer, while still allowing Jon breathing room, he offers over the blanket with a gentle smile and gentler words “Wanna talk about it?”

Jon doesn’t take the blanket. Jon doesn’t even look at him. “Talking to you has often been the problem, so no, thank you.”

Oof. Instinct tells him to react with a matching tone, to jab right back. That instinct is one that he’s long learned to ignore. Instead, he wraps the blanket around his own shoulders and replies with a certain level of blitheness, “Huh. Probably shouldn’t have married me then.”

Jon’s shoulders slump, and the harsh lines of his features soften. He still, however, won’t look at Martin. “Sorry, that was...a poor way of phrasing things. Sometimes I just think..”

There’s a silence between them for a few seconds as Martin waits for him to expand on the thought. When he doesn’t, Martin prompts, “Yes?”

Jon sighs with all of himself, before taking a drag of his cigarette. “Four years ago. If you hadn’t been there, I think I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad for the life we got to build afterwards, but. Sometimes it feels as though I’m being rewarded for failure. Or perhaps, more accurately, for compliance.”

Four years ago. Four years ago exactly. The date dawns on Martin, simultaneously the worst day of their lives, and the day of their freedom from the fears. The realization makes him understand why Jon’s treading the ruts of a worn out argument, a old ache. These days, Martin doesn’t have much to say on the matter. He thinks the second Fucking Jonah Magnus opened the door, and that it was Fucking Jonah Magnus who did it, they no longer had any right choices to make. No matter what way they did the math, the outcome was always going to be terrible. However, when he wakes up warm, with their cat curled up at their feet and his husband curled into his side, he can regret the build up all he likes, but he can’t deny his joy at how it, eventually, all shook out. “Reward would imply intent, and I don’t think what we have now was orchestrated by anything other than ourselves. It’s not like the web promised us a summer wedding if we finished opening the rift.”

It’s too early to have the conversation. Jon seems to realize this at the same time that Martin does, because he snuffs out his cigarette on the railing, and says he’s going back to bed.

Four hours later, Jon leaves the apartment. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and Martin doesn’t ask. In the past, it would’ve been enough for his anxiety to spike, for the insidious thoughts of “this is it, he’s finally sick of me, always knew this would happen,” to circulate. He’s mostly able to stave off that way, able to come to the rational conclusion that this day was hard every year, and that they both needed space to process, that they weren’t even fighting, really. Mostly. He still has to keep himself busy to stave off the worst of it. The sardonic part of himself notes that their apartment’s always sparkling when they’re at their lowest, stress cleaning a habit the two of them share.

Jon gets home close to midnight, and doesn’t look at him as he falls asleep. On the couch. Maybe they’re fighting after all. Martin wishes someone had told him.

This morning, Martin wakes up cold for the first time in months. Blearily, he makes his way towards the kitchen, and finds Jon upright and scrolling on his phone. The bags under his eyes suggest he slept about as well as Martin. He looks up, at Martin, when he walks by, which is a marked improvement. Martin stops in his tracks, and he wants to think of something easy to say. He wants to offer tea or breakfast, he wants to give reassurances, he wants to remain steadfast in his conviction that saving their former world and ending up somewhere else was the best move, he want to smoothly open up discussion. Instead, he blurts out the question that’s been keeping him tossing and turning for the past several hours. “Are we okay?”

Jon opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a frustrated huff through his nose. He raises his hand in a fist and nods with it. <Yes.>

Inanely, he asks, “Are you okay?,” which only gets him a flat stare before Jon signs <I’m getting some damn sleep.> and shoves past Martin to what is supposed to be their shared bed. Martin lets him, for now, but they’re going to clear out some of the tension this afternoon.

He makes the elective decision to record the episode by himself. He supposes he could send out a tweet telling their audience it’s an off week, but he wants to record it, both for himself and for Jon. After he’s done, he does a three knocks in rapid succession on the doorframe of the bedroom, a code they had established, god, back in the Prentiss days to let the other know it was them. Jon stirs under the covers, so he asks, “Can I come in?”

A hand rises up, giving the same nod as earlier. Before he walks in, however, he also asks, “Can I join you on the bed?”

<Yes.>

Martin crawls in next to him, and Jon immediately turns over to face him. Before he says anything, Jon signs <I love you.>

“I love you too. Hey, did..did you hear me recording?”

<No. You did an episode solo?>

“Yeah. Sort of figured you weren’t up for it.”

Jon shrugs and gives a tilt of his head that Martin reads as “Fair.” <What’s it about?>

Martin gives a shit-eating grin, the first smile hes given in the past two days. “It’s a surprise.”

Jon sticks out his tongue at him, which makes some of the weight on his lungs lift. “It’s also not what we need to discuss. What’s been going on, my love?”

<Same old, same old. Crushing guilt, swells of regret, the general feeling that I don’t deserve this life. I’ll get past it again. It’s just hard, this time of year.>

Martin knew all that already, but, “There’s something else though, this time, isn’t there?”

Jon drops his eyes down to his hands, which he keeps resolutely still. With nothing but an earnest plea, Martin asks, “Why did you sleep on the couch? That’s not ‘same old, same old’.”

To his surprise, Jon comes in closer, only leaving enough room between them that he can still sign. <I love you. So much. Enough to terrify me, sometimes, but.>

“But?”

<Sometimes I can’t look at you without seeing the past. I’m sorry.>

Involuntarily, Martin glances down to Jon’s abdomen. Despite his torso being covered, Martin knows the shape of the scar there, because there are times where he can still feel himself creating it. “I know how you feel. And it’s. It sucks, but I think it’s okay. As long as..as it’s not the only thing you see looking at me.”

Jon shakes his head, and gives an only slightly fragmented smile. <Not at all. Mostly I look at you and I see my favorite person in all of existence, literally.>

Martin relaxes into the mattress and runs his fingers through Jon’s hair. Pressing their foreheads together, he replies, “Ditto. Don’t tell The Duchess though, she’s the jealous type.”

That gets a proper laugh out of Jon, and Martin’s sure that they both know tomorrow is going to be better.