#hot takes as i experience tma for the first time

[primewritessmut]

the fact that jonathan sims was kidnapped by russian circus mannequins for an entire month and his only reaction was “my skin has never been more moisturized” is insane

this man is not beset by horrors, he is inviting them in

[anthroposeen]

tmagp 18 relisten notes

as usual, tma and tmagp spoilers below cut! sorry this one is so late!

celia:

- she was unable to go into work because of a "childcare emergency" but when we see her perspective we know that georgie was watching jack. on top of that, we learn that celia lied about why she left the house- i think its safe to assume it was related to her teleporting/sleep walking and its becoming a more frequent issue

sam:

- hes uncomfortable being around lena even without directly interacting with her, and feels shes impersonal as his boss

- he asked lena about celia's whereabouts, when he could have texted her himself or she could've updated him, instead he chose to ask their boss about it

- the incident is narrated at his desk, and he draws comparison to the recent encounter alice had- both involving a dead woman recounting the strange way she died

- "she was trapped in her greatest fear, which then actually killed her", its interesting that he was able to clock that with the little context he has -> i wonder if this concept was touched on at his time at the magnus institute

- doubling on the previous observation, sam says he thinks something killed them both, as in a singular force is responsible for their very different deaths. i think that he's right, since this follows similar styles of story pacing/information reveals in the past, but my question lies in what this "something" is: an entity, the fear conglomerate? (fear being a whole force on its own, with the denominations being smaller aspects of it), or a reference to the dimensional rift in some way?

- he thinks gwen is kidding around when she says mr bonzo is an external (reasonably) but once she reacts strongly to him imitating the monster, he does seem to reexamine why she reacted that way. but it doesnt appear that he takes her seriously about mr bonzo, rather taking it as a sign of her deteriorating grip on reality

alice:

- she's attempting to pick up teddy's spirits and encourage him, offering to go out for drinks with him, sam, and celia

- she describes celia as "really weird but in a hot way", which can be taken at face value or as an attempt to joke with teddy (seeing as how she describes her brand as irritating yet faintly erotic)

- after her description of celia, she says that she can make teddy forget his obsession with sam, obviously a joke about teddy, but maybe a subconscious example of her own feelings?

- she's very adamant to sam that she wants nothing to do with the incident even if its similar, refusing to turn to curiosity and making fun of him for suggesting she get her red string out

- she seems actually unbothered by the idea that theres likely hundreds of thousands of entities in their world, and explains the likelihood of them being real/how many there are as if shes mulled this concept over before

- it sounds as if shes heard of others (past coworkers) that try to connect the dots between incidents that affected them and it went poorly, with the best case scenario being no more interaction with the encounter

- sam tells her off for ignoring both the incident and gwen's mental state, which she rebuffs by saying she can ignore it and she intends to continue doing so

gwen:

- after some pushing from sam and alice, she actually tries to open up about her issues, but she has a problem with explaining her experiences, making them not take her seriously

- originally, when she feels supported/encouraged, she tells them how she doesnt think the externals are humans, and takes the leap of faith of revealing mr bonzo is one of them

- once sam makes fun of the mr bonzo reveal, she tells him to shut up and curses, running from the office. this is the first time we as the audience really see her break

lena:

- she picks up on sam being unsettled in the break room, but is surprised that its because of her

- "why would i need to talk to you?/ consider my silence as a compliment"

teddy!:

- he was in the royal mint court area around dusk/whenever the OIAR shifts start, and he says he didn't recognize alice (i severely doubt this as she seems the sort of person to be aggressively noticeable even in the dark)

- he tells her that he was in the area for an interview (assuming the other interview he mentioned in a previous episode fell through)

- he seems to be going through a very rough patch financially and mentally, sounding very beat up and not really meeting alice's energy or jokes as he would in the past

georgina barker, the man the myth the legend:

- she's babysitting jack for celia, but it doesnt sound like they live together or like this is an average situation (celia apologizes for taking up georgie's time, and if georgie were the regular babysitter celia would likely have less issues relating to keeping a sitter

- "who keeps taking georgie's face?" im choosing to believe this is a poke at the fans and not a real foreshadowing of her fate. she survived one entire podcast against all odds i do not know if she can survive both

- shes pieced together that celia is lying about what happens and where she goes during these emergencies, insisting that celia tells her the truth (drawing some parallels between how tma!georgie interacted with jon and his lying)

- she asks celia if shes being spied on by the government, this is likely because celia has a civil service job and wtg probably touches on similar stories, but its very interesting that this is the first direction she goes in, rather than a paranormal one (its possible that tmagp! georgie doesnt believe in the paranormal, having never had an encounter with the End, but i find it unlikely shes a full skeptic

incident:

- our second incident to be narrated by augustus! (im not going to draw comparisons between his themes yet since we only have two to draw on)

- the incident follows the post mortem account of a dead woman named violet parker, taken from a medical examiners investigation into her death, related to a case from the london MET police

- her body was found clothed, dehydrated and malnourished, with an ankle injury and worn feet. and, most notably, dead.

- after the autopsy, violet's body began to speak, telling the story of her death.

- no one had come forward to claim her body, i think this furthers the theory that these speaking corpse's are from an alternate dimension (likely tma)

- violet talks about being trapped within a house that has multiple descriptors of tma fears. including mentions of spiders, loneliness, endless corridors, a person asking questions from an alleyway (similar to the angler fish)

- she describes the house as having too many rooms, passages designed to be confusing, so you have to walk endlessly and slowly starve (correlating to the state of her body). she talks about doing deeds and services for the people in her life out of fear they'll abandon her and she'll be alone.

- violet describes feeling like a lone cloud rolling among her peers as a child, and compares their laughter at her to poetry (drawing very clear parallels to martin's brand of loneliness in tma)

- she says that there was a fog that rolled through the house and disguised her and kept her trapped, but also makes reference to rusted nails, rotted wood, and signs of decay throughout its description, a tie to the corruption.

- the house shes referring to had been demolished in her childhood, but she describes it as a manifestation within her, where she wanders it in her mind. this is closely followed with a description of corridors that twist and confuse her, a common attribute of the spiral and the distortion specifically.

- violet says that someone had brought her to the house, calling them a solitary figure that asks questions from an alleyway. this draws similarities to the stranger and the angler fish, but it also reminded me of the archivist (in terms of asking questions and being responsible for bringing her to this nightmare)

- "it doesnt matter, because no one is here now. because i broke my promise." while this incident isn't narrated by chester, this line still hit me as a strong parallel to jon's final arc, and i wonder if it might be a clue as to his current state of being?

glitches/lies:

- "i'll get by", said by teddy to assure alice he's in a stable situation. poor guy

- "sure. maybe." also said by teddy in response to alice proposing they go for drinks if he gets the job. this cpuld mean he doesnt intend to go do that with her, or that he doesnt expect to get the job (or! he lied about being in the area for an interview)

- "ide ran out of baby food" said by celia, lying to georgie about why she left jack alone

- "im not!" said by celia, denying shes lying

[itchyeye]

Ok I will say. Hot take here but i think JM in s5 is not MEANT to be healthy. I think that’s the whole entire point. It’s never portrayed as healthy; they spend the whole time bickering and arguing and not trusting each other and being so horrifically extremely codependent it’s pointed out BY ONE OF THE AVATARS, THE LITERAL HARVESTERS OF HORROR. I think making them dysfunctional is entirely the point. The last episodes they appear in together they’re arguing about jon becoming GOD, martin is very obviously against it, and jon simply decides he Does Not Care. And i mean, in the grand scheme of things? Jon, well, he’s correct! Doom one world and not millions of others. Martin isn’t portrayed as correct here- (in ‘checking out’, Jon says he knows martin is fine with the theoretical suffering of others, but when he actually SEES it then he’ll be horrified- same logic applies to his take on release the fears vs keep em in 199) all of them are just.. people. With opinions. Not really any of them good, or the standard, or healthy in the slightest. If you’re constantly bickering with your boyfriend about the morality of consuming other people’s terror, asking him to smite people you dislike, and practically insulting him at some points.. i don’t think that’s an intentionally healthy portrayal. Jmart is purposefully dysfunctional in canon, and I don’t think it’s bad writing because of it. And it goes both ways, too! Jon can be pretty mean to Martin throughout the pod!! He insults him behind his back to vent his frustrations about their relationship! Because, hey, loving each other isn’t enough, you’ve got to Actually Make It Work. And they can’t (won’t?) ever do the latter.

Actually, another hot take: not a single relationship exists in tma without extremely jagged or messed up edges. Even the canon ones, especially jmart. Because it’s a hORROR PODCAST.

…evil murder husbands JE, though? I get what you guys mean, tbh. That may be the exception to the above rule.

Same anon as before, i just wanted to add that none of that is from a place of frustration I just want to have a discussion about s5 jmart tbh. I feel like how unhealthy jm is isn’t spoken about in the context of ‘what if it’s intentional?’ Because a lottt of people just assume it’s bad writing when. No, no, i think jonny knows what a healthy relationship looks like, and this absolutely isn’t it (and that is pointed out in-canon)

Outside of my jmart Thoughts, I absolutely adore your writing!! How you DESCRIBE things just completely sticks me in the room in a way I don’t usually experience when reading fic. I sadly don’t really have any jonelias prompts floating around up in me noggin (for NOW), but i just wanted to say that. You’re super cool! I like seeing your stuff on my dash! Sorry i’m an anon, also; I fear people may come for me with fire and pitchforks if i were to use my main lmao. You’re really great at writing their dynamic!!

hey! thank you for sharing your thoughts. i'm not really a productive person to have this conversation with though because i haven't listened past MAG 166 (I have previously said multiple times that I never got past episode 4 of s5. turns out that's incorrect! the last episode i got to was The Worms, I misremembered it as 4 episodes because the first 2 episodes of s5 take place in Daisy's safehouse, so I was counting the number of statement episodes i listened to. they were extremely disappointing so they stuck with me. the jmart plays house episodes i just blacked out i guess as a defense mechanism.)

so, i really can't weigh in on what you've said here because i haven't experienced this season and i'm not going to. publishing both to respond and because maybe other people would like to have this conversation with you and it's clear you've put a lot of thought into this understanding of the text!

what i will say though is that i don't doubt that jonny sims knows what a healthy relationship looks like. i'm not pretending i know anything about him or his irl marriage (besides the crazy and immediate chemistry he and sasha have solely as disembodied voices) but he does write a lot of healthy relationships from his statement givers. people who love and care about each other in romantic, platonic, and familial ways that feel real and three dimensional.

but i'm actually totally uninterested in what sort of healthy relationships he can write, though. i don't seek out healthy relationships in my fiction lmao i seek out interesting ones. i don't want my blorbos to talk to one another like they're on the couch at couple's therapy.

my problem with jmart isn't that it's "unhealthy", it's that it's rewarded by the narrative. i'm supposed to believe that jon and martin randomly getting together in 158/9 is a culmination of their hard work. a reprieve from their suffering. finally, after all that horror, they can end up together. it's a reward for them! it's immediately taken away and that's supposed to be the tragedy. of having had a glimpse at happiness, or having closed your fingers around it, and then it being snatched away.

it's like, have you seen the descent (2005)? if you haven't i recommend it, it's one of my favorite movies. good buried statement. if you liked Lost Johns' Cave you'll love the descent (2005). i'm gonna spoil it for you now though, so sorry if you haven't seen it.

there's a scene near the end where our sole survivor sees daylight. she crawls for like a mile with broken limbs over sharp rocks and her hand breaches the surface. she escapes into the open air. she screams in the most primal, life affirming, animalistic way as she breaths lung full after lung full of fresh air. and then we snap back to reality and she is miles and miles beneath the earth, hallucinating her salvation.

it's really really affecting. it's such a gut punch. you think, huh, we're close to the end of our runtime, i've really come to care about this person. i'm so relieved that she's getting out. i'm experiencing her euphoria at finally escaping. and then it's all ripped away from you. it's incredible!!!

that's what 158 - 160 was supposed to be. jmart in their little scottish cabin with their little highland cows was the fresh air. except ,well, it didn't taste like fresh air to me! it felt like turning around 180* and crawling back into the dark. i think jon and martin are awful for one another but more than that: i don't believe that they find comfort in one another.

one of the chief draws of jon/elias is that elias is a reprieve for jon. he's the one person in his life who he is close to that doesn't hate him. that doesn't verbally abuse him as soon as he catches sight of him. he's also the person responsible for turning him into a monster but listen, you win some you lose some. every relationship has give and take. i: isolate you from everyone you know and drag you deeper into your paranoia. you: crawl to me for comfort only i can give you. romance!

i don't see the doomed romance that people who like jmart talk about because i don't see the two of them ever enjoying one another's company. i don't see anything that they have in common. i see them sort of hunker down as s1's sole survivors but even then, martin is pulling away from jon as hard as he can. we as the audience know this is because of peter, but basira tells jon it's because his mom died (??????) and he hates him too (?????).

so, i don't think that jmart is bad writing because it's supposed to be a great relationship and it's actually really unhealthy. i think jmart is bad writing because their plot arc hinges on me believing, despite 160 episodes giving ample evidence to the contrary, that they are in love with one another. maybe it's bad love, maybe it's a lie or an illusion or a veneer. whatever. i still need to believe (i the audience, the beholder in whose eye this is playing out) that they are in love. with one another.

and i honestly can't even picture them further than arm's length apart.

um also turning around to twirl my hair thank you SO much for your kind words about my writing D: i really appreciate that, it means a lot!!! i think it's obvious i care about this podcast a lot and i spend a lot of time thinking about it so thank you for sharing your thoughts with me and for reading my stuff. you are welcome here on or off anon, i'll also happily not publish things if you would like me not to publish them.

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 59 - apple cutting

So about the episode title: I know a recluse is someone who lives a solitary life, but there is also a genus of spiders out there which is called recluse (for example, the brown recluse, probably the most famous one of those).

"I’d do things without actually deciding to do them. Like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a string gently guiding me." - <.<

"It was never bad or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth." - Good guy Web.

"It felt like if you picked a line, any line, you could follow it through to the center, to some deep truth, if only your eye could keep track of the strands that had caught it." - This kind of sounds like the way Jon later describes the Web in S5, when he tries to See its plan.

This is actually only the second time the table itself makes an appearance in a statement. The box without the table was in MAG 8, but all the other times were within the Archives, it being delivered and talked about, OG!Sasha in Artefact Storage, Not!Sasha and Jon in Artefact Storage.

"Agnes came to the house two months before my birthday, in the middle of winter. Ray had never mentioned her, never held one of his little meetings to introduce her. She was just suddenly in the house one day, and no one really thought to question it." - Haha, just like Dawn suddenly being dropped as Buffy's younger teenage sister. There's most likely a lore reason for that in TMA as well, especially in a stronghold of the Web.

"Then, without warning, I wasn’t waiting anymore. I had turned around, put down my suitcase, and started walking back toward Raymond Fielding’s house. I didn’t want to go back." - Oh god, something like this happened to me once. It was some kind of sleepwalking. I could see everything I did through my eyes, just like normal, but had no control over my body. I stood up, out of bed and my room and down the stairs in complete darkness. I didn't want to, everything in me was like "oh no pls, I don't want to go downstairs". When I reached the end of the stairs I finally regained control and fled back into my room.

"Their bodies seemed warped and bloated in a way I didn’t recognize. But that’s only because at that point in my life, I had never before seen a spider egg sac." - Ha, like in Steven King's The Mist.

"Inside was an apple, green and fresh and still wet with morning dew. I knew I was going to eat it" - So that's how the Web fills people with spiders? Ivo Lensik in MAG 8 also found such an apple in that box and out came spiders.

"All at once, my cheek erupted in pain. It was like someone had pressed a hot branding iron into my face, and I could swear that I heard the flesh sizzle as I let out a scream and fell to my knees." - Thanks Agnes. Is this the first time we hear about the Desolation directly defeating the Web?

"I had willed it myself, and whatever power had been gripping me, tugging me into its web" - <.<

"But now they’re building there. They’re breaking ground that should be left burned and empty. And I’ve started to dream again." - God, I love this…

"Between Ronald Sinclair, Ivo Lensik, and Father Burroughs, it appears there’s still much to learn about Hill Top Road." - Well, there indeed is!

"Supplemental. Everyone’s avoiding me." - He sounds so sad :(

"They share furtive glances when they think I’m not looking. I don’t like it. I feel like they’re planning something." Oh boy, they ARE planning SOMETHING^^

Oh man that sleep walking experience sounds terrifying I hope you're okay 😳

Also hfjdjsmjdk I'm so happy I'm not the only one who noticed the web taking a break from its nefarious plans to force kids to... Brush their teeth. Somehow that's so funny to me.

Perhaps teeth are important to the web when it sends the spider filled victims out to the world to do its bidding when they need to seem friendly...

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

This was really stretching the limits of what Jon should have been able to do at this point in his recovery, but he took a deep breath and pulled himself up. It hurt more than it would have a few weeks before, but he managed to complete the maneuver with only a little more difficulty than he had three years ago. He hung suspended in midair for a second, then dropped lightly to the ground. By some miracle, he managed to stay on his feet.

Melanie whirled around and did not noticeably relax when she—evidently—recognized him. “Jesus! What are you doing? I thought you were going to stay outside!”

“And get caught loitering?” Jon hissed back. “You’re not doing this alone. Besides, I’m curious, too.” He pointed slightly to the left. “There’s a blind spot between those two.”

Thankfully, Melanie didn’t waste precious time arguing, just nodded and set off, Jon hot on her heels.

It hadn’t taken much convincing for Jon to be on board with this excursion. The relative with the alleged cat rescue turned out to be a great-aunt with something of a hoarding problem who was nonetheless more than happy to let Melanie and Jon have their pick to take back with them, but when Melanie confessed her real purpose in coming up to Jon on the train ride from London he’d agreed to it at once. As Martin had said the night of Prentiss’ attack on the Institute, once he’d accepted that any of this was true it was safest to just accept all of it, and if Melanie was right—and he had no real reason to doubt her—he wanted to know. Besides, she would need backup.

They’d spent the last three days casing out the C.F. Booth scrap metal and recycling yard, which was only a few miles away from where they were staying. It was well-guarded to discourage people from doing exactly what they were doing, but two heads were better than one, especially two heads with a desire for knowledge and years of experience in getting into places they weren’t wanted, and they’d figured out the best spot and time to scramble over the high walls.

Jon wasn’t sure if Melanie had assumed he wouldn’t be able to get over the wall or genuinely thought he’d be better off guarding her place of egress, or just hadn’t given it much thought at all, but to hell with that. If she’d wanted him to leave her to do this on her own, she shouldn’t have mentioned “friends of friends” in the ghost-hunting community who poked around places solo and never came back.

Actually, if she hadn’t wanted him along, she probably shouldn’t have told him what she was up to in the first place.

It was extremely difficult to see what they were doing. The moon was only half-full, and partially obscured by clouds, and it wasn’t like the place was well-lit. The only lights around the yard seemed to be motion-sensitive security lights, which they were both trying not to trip. And despite the claims made by a character in a book he’d read as a child that had stuck with him (and that he’d been extremely disappointed, years later, to learn weren’t true), brown-eyed people did not actually have better low-light vision than blue-eyed people.

“You’d think the guards would set off the lights occasionally,” Melanie muttered, peering around a corner and gripping her torch, which she hadn’t turned on for obvious reasons.

“They probably know where all the sensors are. That way they know if a light goes on it’s an intruder.” Jon looked over Melanie’s shoulder. “Our eyes should adjust sooner or later, but meanwhile…”

“We can’t really stand about and wait for that. Come on, let’s try this way.”

It was a cool evening, not too terribly chilly, but there was a breeze blowing that made Jon thankful he’d borrowed one of Martin’s jumpers before they’d left London. Well, borrowed was admittedly a bit of a misnomer; stolen might be more accurate, since he hadn’t asked first, but it was the one Martin had wrapped around his shoulders after they’d been released from quarantine when he couldn’t stop shivering and wasn’t sure if it was from cold or fear. The jumper helped with both, not that Jon would admit that out loud. He found himself balling the cuffs into his hands whenever something made him jump, which was a lot. He was sure it was annoying Melanie, but she wasn’t saying anything.

Suddenly, he stopped dead. “Wait,” he whispered.

Melanie whirled around to face him, then grabbed his arm and dragged him into a deeper shadow. “Are you nuts?” she hissed. “You can’t just stop in the middle of an open space, we’ll get caught for sure! What is it?”

“Do you smell that?”

“Smell what?”

“Just…just smell.” Jon sniffed at the air. There it was again—the faint but unmistakable coppery scent of old blood.

Melanie sniffed, too, and her eyes widened. “That’s it. That’s what we’re looking for.”

Jon nodded. “So we follow our noses, is that it?”

“I suppose so. After you, Scooby Doo.”

“Why do I have to be the dog?”

“Would you do it for a Scooby Snack?”

Jon rolled his eyes, sniffed the air again, and set off in a new direction.

His eyes gradually adjusted to the low light, and he could make out the looming shapes of the old rail cars and engines above them. Far from making him feel more confident, however, it only made him feel more nervous. Sounds seemed amplified, and he and Melanie stopped again and again at what might have been footsteps on the other side of the car they stood by and what might have been someone on the other side of the yard. At one point, Melanie grabbed Jon’s arm roughly and about made him jump out of his skin.

“What?” he hissed.

“I thought I saw—” Melanie broke off, staring up at one of the rail cars overhead. “Never mind.”

“No, what?” Jon insisted.

Melanie tore her gaze away from the windows, but she didn’t really let go of Jon’s arm. “I thought I saw someone watching us from the windows, but there’s nothing there.”

A year ago—even six months ago—Jon would probably have suggested it was their reflections, or a long-forgotten poster tacked in the window, despite the fact that there wasn’t enough light for them to really show up in the windows, certainly not from this angle. Now, however, he tossed a nervous glance at one of the other carriages—and did a double-take. For just a second, he could have sworn he’d seen someone lean their head against the glass, but the figure was gone when he looked again.

“It’s not just you,” he admitted softly. Without conscious thought, he shifted his hand to take Melanie’s.

After a second, his brain caught up to what he was doing. Aside from the worm scars, which had to be an unpleasant texture, Jon had always been prone to dry, rough skin on his hands and he was terrible about remembering to buy lotion, let alone use it before it expired. One of the things Jon and Melanie had discovered they had in common over the last two months was an aversion to certain textures, and then there was the fact that Jon had been chided his entire childhood for grabbing at people. He’d just wanted to be held, to have some sort of human contact and connection, but his grandmother had always insisted he obtain consent before touching anyone, and Georgie had always treated him like a weirdo for asking every time he wanted to give her a hug or hold her hand, so he’d gradually just stopped asking, or doing for that matter. He was better about that than he’d been, and God knew Martin was always ready with a hug or a friendly nudge or just a gentle touch—to say nothing of Melanie shoving him around the same way she did her brothers—but in that moment, he knew he’d screwed up.

He was about to let go, to apologize, but Melanie laced her fingers through his and tugged. “Come on. Smell’s getting stronger. Won’t be long now.”

They kept tight hold of one another’s hands, still moving slowly and, Jon felt, with even less confidence than before. It wasn’t that he didn’t think they would find what they were looking for—it was that he did, and that he was sure they weren’t ready for it. Well, perhaps Melanie was; after all, she’d been doing this sort of thing for most of her life.

As if in response to his thoughts, Melanie said softly, “I’ve never done this sort of thing without Martin before. Well, and Gerry, but…I thought I could handle it on my own because I knew how. Didn’t realize how much of feeling like I’d be okay came from having him there.”

Jon managed a laugh. “Reading minds, Ms. King?”

“Haven’t figured that one out yet. I just felt like being honest with you in case it’s my last chance.”

“In that case, I should probably be honest as well and admit I’d feel better if Martin was here, too.”

Melanie actually gave him a quick, crooked smile. “Not exactly news, mate.”

Jon wouldn’t have admitted it in a million years, but the mate warmed him to his toes.

He had long since lost track of time and he’d left his phone back at Great-Aunt Beatrice’s house, but the moon had dipped halfway to the horizon before both Jon and Melanie stopped and turned to each other, mouths open, before closing them and nodding as they realized they’d both noticed the same thing. The scent of blood was stronger than ever, and seemed to be coming from just ahead of them.

And then they stepped around the next corner, and Melanie nodded grimly. “That’s it. I recognize the description.”

Jon swallowed hard as he looked at the train car in front of them. As Melanie had described on their way up, it was old, its outline visible even in the darkness. In fact, it seemed to Jon to be almost too visible. The smell of blood was definitely all around them, choking out all the other scents and seeming to muffle sounds as well, and while Jon knew that was nonsense, it felt right. It had a presence, almost as though it was alive somehow, like it might suddenly come awake and start chasing after them.

“If you turn on your light and that thing has a face, we are leaving,” he muttered.

“I’d rather be on the Island of Sodor. At least we could count on someone to help us there,” Melanie muttered back, but she switched on her torch—they were far enough from the security stations that it was probably safe.

The rail car didn’t have a face. What it did have was a few flakes of drab green paint stuck to its metal sides, a sliding door across the center, and an incredibly solid build. Jon was no expert in trains and rail cars, but he knew enough to tell that the car dated back to World War II or even earlier, and that it should have been a rusted, crumbling bit of scrap. Instead, there wasn’t a speck of rust on it, and its body seemed completely intact. Melanie’s torch played over it, and something caught Jon’s eye.

“Wait,” he whispered. “What’s that?”

“Where?” Melanie swung the torch back and stopped when Jon squeezed her hand. Painted in one corner of the car, in black blocky stenciled characters, was a serial number.

It looked…not new. Certainly not. But it definitely looked as though it hadn’t faded or flaked in the time since it was put on the train. The green paint surrounding it was untouched. It was as though the whole thing, or at least this corner of it, was suspended in time somehow, a perfect capsule of an era long since past. As though they had stepped through a portal and any moment would be hearing gunfire, or an air-raid siren.

“Hold this.” Melanie thrust the torch at Jon and fished about in her pockets for a moment. He immediately missed the contact, but he kept the torch light steady on the serial number. Melanie came up with a square, spiral-bound notebook and what looked like a crayon and scribbled down the number, then slid it back into her pocket.

“To look up later?” Jon asked. Melanie nodded. “This feels…I think this is an Army car.”

“I think you’re right.”

“So this is the Slaughter.”

“Not necessarily. Look.” Melanie took the torch from him and directed it to the other end of the car. The paint on that end was nearly gone, but there was just a hint of what might have once been a white circle of some kind.

Jon stared at it, then at Melanie. “It’s…what does that mean?”

Melanie shrugged. “Could have been a hospital car. Which means this might be the Corruption.” She paused for a moment and looked over at Jon. Even in the darkness, he could see the sudden worry in her eyes. “In which case maybe you shouldn’t go near it.”

“And if it’s the Slaughter, you shouldn’t go near it,” Jon retorted. “Wasn’t that the whole point in getting Martin to tell us what we’ve been Marked by?”

Melanie hesitated for a moment. “Fair enough. Let’s…let’s take a look and see what’s here. And, look, the only Mark we both share is the Eye, right? This isn’t that. So if something comes after us—”

“It’ll probably only go for one of us,” Jon completed, “and the other can protect that one.”

“Exactly.” Melanie took a deep breath and hesitated, then stepped forward.

Jon desperately wanted to reach for her hand again, but settled for balling the cuffs of his stolen jumper into his hands again and following.

He expected it would take both of them to pull open the sliding door, but to his surprise—and mild alarm—when he wrapped his hands around the handle and pulled, there was almost no resistance. It rolled open smoothly, with a bit of a rattle and a creak but nothing like he’d have anticipated from something that had stood at the mercy of the elements for at least seventy years. He was torn between the instinct to go slowly to minimize the noise and the instinct to go quickly to avoid detection, but it didn’t take long in the end and then the car was laid bare and open for them.

It was dark. Far darker than it had any right to be, really, almost like it was swallowing any light from around it. Melanie’s torch hit the wall opposite them, and it was blank, featureless steel. Jon would have been prepared to swear there was nothing in there, except that the smell of blood was almost overpowering, so thick and cloying he could practically taste it. He heard a faint dripping noise, and his eyes instinctively drew downwards. Suddenly, he grabbed Melanie’s arm and pointed.

Melanie brought the torch light down. It glinted on the thick, red, viscous stream of liquid trickling over the edge of the car. Blood. Still flowing, oozing from some unknown source, it rolled over the lip of the door track—the floor must be awash with it if it was enough to get over the edge—and splattered on the ground below. Jon was half-convinced they’d found something with no supernatural explanation, just walked into some sort of killer’s stronghold.

The beam of light traced the stream back. Jon was surprised to see, through craning his head, that the streams weren’t that bad really—there were streaks across the floor, but nothing like the puddle he’d imagined—and he supposed it was building up at the lip and spilling over somehow. Maybe the car was at a slight angle. At the other end of the stream was an old-fashioned hospital gurney draped in olive-green fabric, atop which sat a white body bag…a mostly-white body bag. There were black stains near the bottom.

And it was moving. It jerked about as if trying to free itself—or as if it were in pain. Whoever was in that bag was alive.

Jon definitely didn’t want to be there anymore. He was getting ready to try and pull Melanie away when something suddenly flashed out of the corner of his eye. He stood, frozen in horror or terror or both, as a shape burst from the left side of the car and charged over to the gurney.

It looked like a man, wearing a uniform like Jon had seen in countless old photographs with a white armband emblazoned with a red cross on one arm—Melanie was right, this had to have been a hospital car—and what looked like a surgical scalpel held in his hand. He ran over to the body bag and began stabbing it, over and over.

The eyes—Jon knew those eyes were going to haunt his dreams for a good long while. They were devoid of everything human, everything that made a person a person. They were instead filled with nothing but the carnage in front of them, the feel of the knife plunging into the living flesh, the blood itself. Cold, paralyzing fear churned through Jon’s veins like ice water. Melanie beside him had gone rigid, her face transfixed into something between fascination and horror as she stared at those eyes.

They’d been right the first time. This was a supernatural encounter. This was the Slaughter.

The small niggling common sense part of his brain shouted over the fascination in a voice that sounded a lot like Martin’s that if the ghost was stabbing a body with its side facing them, they shouldn’t have been able to see its eyes so clearly. Belatedly, Jon caught the flash of light on metal and realized the ghost was charging straight towards them—straight towards Melanie.

Jon was not a brave man, but he was coming to realize that he was, under certain circumstances, a very stubborn one.

Not bothering to waste breath on shouting her name, he threw his whole body towards her, trying to push her out of the ghost’s path. Pulling her might have been safer for both of them, but it would have given her too much of a chance to resist, whereas by body-slamming her out of the way he at least had gravity and surprise on his side. It worked, and the torch beam flailed wildly around, but only insofar as it got Melanie out of the way. Something cold and sharp sliced its way into his shoulder as he fell, and he yelped involuntarily before slamming his hand into his mouth to stifle his cry of pain.

“Come on!” Melanie pulled herself out from under Jon and dragged him to his feet, not letting go of his hand, and they ran.

Every step sent a renewed throb of agony through Jon’s shoulder, but he didn’t dare stop or slow down. He didn’t know if they were trying to outrun the ghost or the guards or both, but by some miracle they made it back to their entry point unobserved. Jon managed to leap up and grab the top of the wall, but his shoulder screamed in pain and he knew he would never be able to pull himself over it again.

He was about to let go, to tell Melanie to run for it and he’d take the consequences, but Melanie grabbed his feet and shoved him upwards. It still hurt, but he did manage to—eventually—get a leg up over the top of the wall. Just as he was dragging himself up, Melanie hoisted herself up beside him and swung over the wall to the ground. Jon managed to get his second leg to the top of the wall, then simply rolled off the other side and let himself fall. He barely had the wherewithal to twist himself in midair so he landed on his uninjured shoulder, but the impact still knocked the air from his lungs and stunned him momentarily.

Noises were coming from the other side of the wall—footsteps, distant shouting—and Jon knew the guards were coming. Any minute they would discover Melanie’s torch, and then someone would be around the wall looking for them, and it would be a matter of convincing the guards that, no, they hadn’t broken into the scrap yard, but he couldn’t move yet. Melanie, fortunately, could, and she grabbed Jon’s hands and yanked him to his feet, causing a renewed surge of agony to course through his shoulder. Somehow, he managed to keep his feet under him as they bolted.

At last Jon stumbled, and they both fell to the ground, breathing heavily. Jon’s face was wet and sticky, and he tasted salt. He hadn’t even realized he’d been crying, but between the pain and the fear, it made sense. Still trying to catch his breath, he pressed his hand to his aching shoulder. Unsurprisingly, it came away bloody.

“Fuck,” he managed. He covered the wound with his hand again, trying to apply as much pressure as he could, but he’d never been that physically strong. He looked up at Melanie. “Please tell me—you have your phone.”

Melanie shook her head, still gasping for air. “Thought it’d be—safer if I—couldn’t be tracked.”

“Me, too. We’ll have to—flag down a passing motorist.” Unlike the previous two nights, they’d walked the six miles from the house to the scrap yard so there would be nothing to trace back to them if the guards got suspicious. They had put a great deal of thought, Jon realized, into all the wrong things.

He turned to look down the road at the sound of an approaching motor, then turned back to Melanie. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Melanie nodded, face grim as she pressed both hands over Jon’s to try and staunch the flow of blood while also glancing towards the first glint of headlights from what looked to be a lorry. “Martin is going to kill us.”

[tmabutlesbian]

also thinking abt my tma band au, ive been thinking abt it so much, jsut cause i love making martin deranged?? i love it, so imagine. they start the band around 2010, like the covers, just testing things out, introductions whatever.

it is clear, from the start, that jon does not like martin. ppl dont know why, but it did inspire some fans to do the same. they'd notice how he never posts any covers on his own while the others do, jon with his vocals, tim with his guitar, sasha with the bass, etc. so the natural conclusion was either 1) hes lazy to do so or 2) hes shit at playing the drums. ppl also hate him for more prejudiced reasons

the reason why jon isnt martins biggest fan is because he wasnt supposed to be on the band, gerry was!! but at the time of the auditions n stuff, he got his cancer diagnosis n obviously decided to heal n maybe do his own thing. jon n gerry were close friends at the time, so this saddened jon greatly. he alludes to this too much whenever he talks abt martin that ppl start to hate on martin for that too, especially when ppl find out how gerry looks like and, again, hate him for more... superficial reasons

so martin is not having a good time! he doesnt have a lot of music experience n kinda went in on the audition as a joke, thinking his shit playing would not lend him anywhere, but elias picked him, n since elias is basically the boss n gives the funds for the band, what he says, goes. (if youre wondering, yes, elias only hired martin so they could have more drama right at the beginning, knowing it would drive jon MAD to see such a noob right there on the drums.)

tim n sasha n this au have their own thing going on, sasha is figuring out her aro identity while also feeling great affection for tim n not knowing what to do abt it or what it means, n tim is very much in love with sasha but that scares him, big emotions like that scary him, especially when hes not even sure she likes him at all, n now his friend jon is being an asshole, n his brother danny was supposed to be on the band to manage sound n shit, but right now he cant, n its a mess, n hes stressed!!

but tim is also the only one who believes martin can n will learn how to play drums so, he n sasha put their issues aside n teach him as much as he can.

meanwhile, they decide a great way for fans to learn more abt them, not just through concerts or interviews, which might take a while, especially at the start, they start doing lives! they all have their own accounts n have decided that each of their live streams r their own, in other words, thats how they want the fans to see them; to know each other, they'll do it the old fashioned way. so, they dont watch each others livestreams at all.

so. martin starts his own lives. gets basically no views n a lot of hate comments n is 2 seconds away from killing somebody in his pain, but doesnt, cuz he doesnt want the attention on him. the live streams, per the band's request, r also not to be talked abt at length in interviews, its more between the members n the fans. martin, already feeling like a burden, is relieved that they dont have to say anything abt their streams if they dont want to, cause fuck hes not doing so hot there.

until one day, on their first concert, afterwards where they get to talk to the fans, on fan comes up n (half-jokingly) begs martin to just start being mean. just block ppl n be mean on his streams cuz its terrible in there!! martin is delighted n This Will Be Remembered but his bandmates r horrified, even jon. they didnt know martin was getting harassed like this, n jon feels kinda guilty abt it, which results in him just. avoiding martin for a while. mentions of him turn neutral n profissional cuz hes embarassed.

but now??? martin's true power is UNLEASHED!! he does not give a shit!! u say shit? u get blocked!! fuck u!! he starts just doing whatever on his lives, asks for challenges, for videos to react, and further down the line, starts playing games, which just means he's only getting recommended horror games, the poor guy

he treats the fans like his friends n the fans are DELIGHTED they love martin. hes just a freak!! just a weirdo!! also hes kinda hot!! also hes getting so much better at drums, omg!! look!!!!

thankfully, they do have a mostly chill fanbase, n they just interact with each other pretty comfortably as the years go by; if there is idolazation happening, it is minimal, or they just dont see it.

also the other three OF COURSE also get weirder as the years go by, but martin is the one that shocked everyone, since hes always on the shadows, never appears much, keeps to himself, n then u go watch a stream from him n its just him screaming at fnaf or reacting to smut fanfics of them (horribly written, requested by him n tim specifically, n they dont read it out loud, they just react. yes tim is there, n its a delight, halfway they get drunk n suddenly everybody's meme folder got 10x larger)

anyways, band shenanigans. love them. also love that i get to listen to audios n imagine what ppl would edit of them n im just staring off into space thinking abt hot band ppl, im living the dream

[sathtrash]

Liveblogging TMA has really reminded me of all the things I both love and hate about tumblr. 

I love Tumblr because the TMA fandom sees my shit posts and think “ah yes, they get it, this is what we are all here for, this podcast is unhinged, and it’s so fun to watch someone listen to it for the first time and give their opinions and make silly memes” and I love this, I love that the established fandom is enjoying my stupid takes, my speculation, my shit posts, and my memes, honestly the TMA fandom has probably been one of the most lovely and welcoming fandoms I’ve found in YEARS, I’ve been on Tumblr for almost 9 years now and so many fandoms are so hostile to new people and the TMA fandom has been so welcoming in enjoying my first listen liveblogs.

The things I hate though, has always been the discourse, the needless fucking discourse. I made a post about Mag 141, Doomed Voyage, because I have a thing for voices and I LOVE the way Jon sounds when he gets really aggressive about compelling a statement, it’s hot, he gets all harsh and growly, it’s perfection, I love that. I wake up and go to make my dumb post about 142, Scrutiny, because I was listening to it in the shower, and check my notes. Someone had replied to my 141 post by just saying “... he’s ace” and I... I was not ready to be so annoyed by something so early in the morning. While I’ve tried to avoid spoilers I am well aware that Jon is ace, I’m unsure if that’s canon or just fanon (though it being canon would not surprise me at all because the writers are obviously really lovely about having a variety of characters from the LGBT+ community). The thing is, asexual people can still be hot and still have a sexual existence, if they want, they just don’t experience sexual attraction. And, in that vein, I can still find an ace person sexually attractive, I can sit here and listen to Mag 141 and think “Damn, Jon’s voice is sexy”, this does not affect him, and it doesn’t make him not ace. Also, to my understanding, JonMartin is actually a canon endgame ship, so Jon clearly experiences romantic attraction, as the PINING so clearly leads us to believe throughout... basically the whole damn story. 

Like, at the end of the day, non-ace people can find ace people attractive, sexually and romantically, and, may I add, that The Archivist is a fictional character and so cannot be harmed by me saying his voice is sexy. 

Anyway, I think it is cool and/or sexy of all ace people to have varying levels of sexual attraction/desire, and to know themselves well enough to know exactly what they want out of relationships /gen.

Also my fiancé is literally a demisexual slut, have a good morning. 

[clowndensation]

which tmags episode should i most be looking forward to?

oh god, what a question. all of them. all of the episodes.

or. more realistically (i guess 🙄🙄🙄) on your first listen through, there are really two categories that matter: interesting statement episodes, and interesting plot episodes.

these categories aren't mutually exclusive, obviously, but i'm going to point out which is which, in case you're curious which episodes i think are good, and which i think are relevant. or... relevant to the season 1 plot. fun fact, i think 11 of the first 40 episodes are directly relevant to the plot later down the line, and 25 of the 40 episodes are referential enough to something that happens in the future as to be satisfying to recognize as you listen. but i'm not giving you a list that long, so, we're gonna stick to some key highlights.

also we're sticking with season 1, because genuinely my list of "favorite" tma episodes is like 100 of the first 160. which i don't think is really helpful. also even with just season 1, i will admit i... might have gotten carried away.

11. Dreamer - literally stan my boy. "why? what's so special about antonio blake?" don't ask questions, just stan him. he's hot and mysterious and just wants to be helpful.

14. Piecemeal - sorry that this episode is funny and cool and amazing and interesting and i think about it all the time. like it's my fault.

15. Lost John's Cave - this is an iconic episode. genuinely, i don't know that i've spoken to anyone who's listened to tma that doesn't point to lost john's cave when discussing episodes that fucked them up a little. a lovely experience <3

17. The Boneturner's Tale - second special boy alert. you should look forward to this episode because i like jared and want people to pay attention to him. literally what more reason do you need.

18. The Man Upstairs - okay well i have a thing about meat. episodes that reference meat make me feel things that no other episode can. this is my dream apartment living situation btw.

19/20. Confession/Desecrated Host - "wow, vinnie, this is a lot of episodes basically all in a row" that's just how it is sometimes. this is what you get for asking me about episodes you should look forward to. ANYWAYS, Father Edwin Burroughs is so special to me, and i'm obsessed with religion in horror, and also i <3 parallels that are more obvious after you've listened to the show at least once.

22. Colony - teehee what if you were listening to a horror podcast, and i was listening to a horror podcast, and it hinted at having a plot 😳😳😳

26. Distortion - special girl and special... uh. i don't think he has a gender. but two special characters! and plot, literally what more could you ask for.

27. A Sturdy Lock - this episode rules, and i'm only sometimes paranoid about it when i close my door at night <3

28. Skintight - stan melanie and jon's fun hatemanship or else.

29. Cheating Death - i think everyone should love death whenever it deigns to take on an anthropomorphized form. we don't have to discuss why it's deigning to do so, here, or whether "deigning" is even the correct word choice at all. stan death.

32. Hive - hehehehehehehe

34. Anatomy Class - i own a shirt that references this episode. literally the anatomy class has done nothing wrong, ever, in their life. my fun goodtime episode full of laughs and love and found family. :)

36. Taken Ill - i love sickness and disease and death and dying and the mistreatment of the elderly. this episode makes me want to scream and cry and throw up if i think about it for too long btw. for standalone reasons, and for other reasons :)

39. Infestation - :)

40. Human Remains - :)

the fact that i'm highlighting 17 of 40 episodes as standout episodes does make me feel like a first year college student who just got their first set of highlighters, but doesn't actually understand how to find key points in a text while listening to a lecture, btw. but i am what i am. i can not change this <3

[naamahdarling]

For the ask deluge: what are some podcasts you're into? Have you checked out 'Unwell' at all? I highly recommend it if not, especially if you liked TMA!

Ooooohhhh, I will 100% check that one out, thank you!  It sounds like something we’d enjoy!

We just started Old Gods of Appalachia and it’s got me having all kinds of Large Feelings, no small part of which is just blazing, white-hot envy at the quality of the prose and how I didn’t write it. SO good.

The Penumbra Podcast is probably my second fave behind Magnus Archives. I love Juno Steel, I relate to him a lot more than I probably should. I haven’t listened to the latest season because I love it so much I’m literally afraid to listen to it because what if it goes badly for them and Juno and Peter are never together the way they SHOULD BE?!

I liked Spines, a horror/sci-fi/weird podcast.  it was incredibly moving at the end.

I liked The White Vault. I can’t take David Ault seriously, but I do enjoy him, and the other VAs were excellent.

Welcome to Night Vale, obviously, is nice, but I am YEARS behind.

Limetown is one of the best horror/sci fi podcasts I’ve ever listened to, it’s an extraordinary work of fiction, and I highly recommend it.  No idea if the TV series thing they did was any good.

Point Mystic is SO cool and nobody has heard of it? Give the first season a listen, it’s like a weird Stephen King horror novel with kid protagonists, only told from the point of view of the adults. It’s really cool.

I LOVED The Black Tapes until it flubbed the last season with what felt like really rushed and inattentive writing and fouled up the ending in a huge way. Still mad! Still REAL MAD over here!  I need to look and see if anyone’s done any good fix-it fic and actually written a final season that works.

I LOVE Sawbones! So much! Sydnee is the absolute best, and I have learned so much. Their COVID coverage has been extraordinary. Like, they saw the chance to become science communicators for the pandemic to their audience and they went with it, and I am so grateful that they’ve turned over so much of their show to it even though it cuts into the “fun” factor. I think they’ve done a lot to help demystify and explain what’s going on in an accessible, respectful, honest way, and I am very proud of them.

The Feast is really neat, if you’re into food and history.

I love Lore, I love Cabinet of Curiosities, I love Unobscured.  We’ve been with Lore since the single digit episodes, and seeing Aaron build his brand like this has been incredible and inspirational, and I love his narrative style.

Unexplained is a great podcast for weird occurrences and true crime. I love the narrator’s voice to pieces but it puts my GF to sleep because he’s so pleasant. His trio of Season 3 episodes on Jack Parsons, the rocket scientist and ritual magician, were so good I’ve listened to them like four times. (But I find Parsons really interesting.)

Man in the Window, about the Golden State Killer, is...honestly spectacular and important, and I highly recommend it to everyone.

Morbid is enjoyable true crime and I personally love it because I also am a chaotic disaster much like the hostesses, but it’s not for everyone. If you want a more sedate, narrative, scripted podcast, you should skip Morbid. Mostly I love the Listener Tales episodes and hope that some of my experiences will appear on there someday, once I’ve sent them in.

Unresolved is consistently good for true crime. The narrator is not a professional radio voice type, he sounds like someone’s nephew, but he puts a lot into it, and I live for the times he very calmly swears up a blue streak about terrible people and societal injustice. It’s like hearing the school librarian swearing at someone.

Someone Knows Something is a must-listen. All seasons. It’s investigative, covering cold cases, and it’s just really fucking good.  Actually, every single true crime podcast from CBC has been stellar, please look into them.

Just started True North True Crime and Red Flags, both of which are really good so far.

And finally, The Bilbcast, which is just the creator’s cat Bilbo purring. It’s really good, just so good, because Bilbo is a very good boy.

[unnuevosoltransformalarealidad]

Awkward First Meeting

Summary: When you met Eileen for the first time, nobody mentioned to you she was deaf Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader, Eileen x Reader, Dean x Reader Squares: Awkward First Meeting for TMAS // Bunker for @winchesterandbeyondbingo Warnings: LSA, Reader is not deaf, bad grammar, bad writing. If there’s anything missing, please let me know Word Count: 840 A/N: This is entirely based on a personal experience, I mean no disrespect to any deaf nor mute people. If anyone felt like I’ve been disrespectful, I want to deeply apologize because in any way I wrote this to make you feel like this.

| TMAS Masterlist | W&B Masterlist | Supernatural Masterlist | Main Masterlist | 

^

Dean and you had gone to a quick hunt a few towns over, it was going to just be a couple of days max. Dean had encouraged Sam to take that free time to pay a visit to the girl he was dating. You’d sent a quick text to Sam when you were done with the work and were ready to head back home. -You good? — Dean asked you when you tried again to get comfortable  -My back is killing me. The mattress from the motel was too uncomfortable — you complained -Or maybe you are getting used to taking naps on my bed — Dean said smirking. You could only look at your hands.

You were getting impatient, your pain was getting stronger and you didn’t have any painkillers or anything with you. You wanted to be back home asap -How long until we get back to the bunker? I need a hot shower and lay down -We are almost there — Dean said going a little faster

Dean mentioned Sam’s plans to you and that the bunker was going to be empty. You were happy for Sam. On one hand, he deserved to find love after everything, everyone deserves a little love, and on the other hand, you were glad he wasn’t at home because you needed at least one long sleep before hunting again.

You were curious about who was the girl he was dating, you didn’t know much about her, just a few things that Sam had told you, but not more than that. And that was because of the constant teasing from Dean. You couldn’t blame him, he was so happy that his little brother was in love. Also, you were aware that the relationship was recent, Sam mentioned it when it started to get serious and Sam needed advice. You told Sam that this girl was the perfect match. She was a huntress too, so she was able to understand the perks and risks of the job. Besides, Sam was the perfect nerdy and loving guy you’ve ever met. He was the perfect best friend you could’ve asked for. She was going to love him.

When you finally arrived at the bunker, it was awfully quiet, but the library’s lights were on which was odd. Maybe Sam came back early than expected you thought. You went straight to your room to pick some clothes so you could shower before getting something to eat before your beloved sleeping time.

Once you were all cleaned up and changed you headed for the kitchen. You were distracted and you hadn’t noticed that a  girl was wearing just a plaid shirt in the kitchen filling up a glass of water.

-Oh shit! I’m sorry! — you said when you noticed her. The woman just looked at you — I’m Y/N — the girl just smiled — I’m gonna grab this — you said while grabbing some chips — and leave you finishing here. It was nice to meet you.

The girl was awfully quiet as she was looking at you surprised. You could understand her, you found her alone, wearing just a plaid shirt, in the kitchen. Sam probably hadn’t read your text and warned her.

The following day, when you woke up, you went straight to the kitchen. You were praying she wasn’t there, after having an awkward first meeting the night before, you weren’t ready to have another one.

-Morning Y/N — Sam said -Morning lover boy — you smirked -So you met her — he stated -Yeah — you said pouring some coffee — It was awkward, she didn’t introduce her though — you mentioned -Her name is Eileen. Did she tell you? -Tell me what? — you asked confused -Y/N — Sam sighed — Eileen is deaf — Sam explained -Well, that makes sense because she didn’t introduce herself. Wait, what? She is deaf? So she… Yes, I did — Eileen said from behind — I might not be able to hear, but I know how to read lips — she explained -Oh. I’m sorry — You apologized again even more embarrassed than the night before -I’m Eileen, by the way — she introduced herself — It’s nice meeting you

You were embarrassed and ashamed. You’ve made a fool of yourself.

-Now I’m regretting not taking LSA at school — you mumbled -Don’t worry — Sam said — I’m still learning too

After that awkward moment, you felt bad for how everything went with Eileen. She seemed to be such a lovely girl. It was so nice to have another woman around and you messed it badly. So, you secretly started to learn sign language, you were so embarrassed for everything that happened, that you wanted to make her feel included. The next time you met her, you introduced yourself with sign language and you apologized to her as well.

Everyone was really surprised with what you’ve done. Eileen was grateful to you. You have made a new best friend.

Tag List (Is open, you can ask to be added)

@supernatural-jackles | @winchesterandbeyondbingo | @iguessweallcrazyithinktho | @thevelvetseries | @mrspeacem1nusone | @bitchy-witchy-post-mortem | @caplanreads | 

[cirrus-grey]

TMA/The Good Place AU

I've seen other versions of this before and I have so many thoughts (Contains spoilers for all seasons of both shows)

Gertrude is the Architect, who thinks she's working for the good of the universe by punishing bad people but gradually learns compassion, friendship, and the ways in which the system is broken

Gerry is the neighborhood guide like Janet

He's a lot more incorporeal though

Instead of "not a robot, not a girl" he's got "not a boy, not a ghost"

Good Gerrys have poor dye jobs

Bad Gerrys have perfect dye jobs

Neutral Gerrys do not dye their hair

Yes this means disco Gerry exists

Magnus is the Head of the Bad Place who pretends to be the Judge

(The actual Judge is Dekker)

OG Elias is the pothead student who had a bad trip and predicted the whole afterlife system with almost perfect accuracy

Jon, Martin, Tim, and Sasha are the four humans in the first neighborhood

Jon and Tim think they belong in the Good Place

Martin and Sasha know they do not

Jon is told his research into the supernatural saved thousands of lives

Tim was an environmental activist

Sasha was a hacker but Gertrude welcomes her as a tech innovator who changed the world

Martin was just working a minimum wage job trying to get by and Gertrude welcomes him as a professional in the parapsychology field, he's given the same "your research saved lives" spiel as Jon

Jon and Martin are told they're soulmates

Tim and Sasha are told the same

Jon and Martin have the Chidi/Eleanor multi-season-long star-crossed fall-in-love-in-every-reboot plot arc

Tim and Sasha have the we-hooked-up-in-one-reboot-but-we're-better-as-friends Tahani/Jason dynamic

However, Sasha gets Eleanor's "there's someone with my name who's supposed to be here instead of me" plot

This is Not!Sasha

Peter Lukas is the Bad Place representative who brings Not!Sasha to the "Good Place"

Martin gets Jason's "the person with your name was in a near-death coma"

Sasha tells Tim she doesn't belong right out of the gate

Martin overhears them and the three end up working together

Martin does not tell Jon he doesn't belong, leading to Jon becoming paranoid about what he, Tim, and Sasha are always conspiring about together

It comes out in a "why are you lying" argument just like the CV thing in canon and Jon is heartbroken that he doesn't actually have a soulmate

He shuts Martin out for a while but eventually realizes he's fallen in love with him, soulmate or not

The four of them end up working together (somewhat)

When they go to the Medium Place they meet Mikaele Salesa

He was a cut-throat antiques and curiosities dealer who donated his fortune to aid the orphaned children of sailors on his deathbed

Eventually the whole "this is the Bad Place" reveal happens

Not sure who figures it out

They get rebooted

And rebooted again

And again

Gertrude does not know how they keep figuring it out but she's definitely losing control

The other demons in the neighborhood are talking about rebelling

(Jude Perry is that one fire demon who keeps walking around without their skinsuit)

(I'm thinking Jared "canonically hot" Hopworth is the one who keeps going to the gym)

She makes a deal with the four humans to help them get to the real Good Place if they play along with the torture, and finally concedes to letting Annabelle Cane run the next reboot

(Yes, to line up with the original show it would be the Not!Them but I think Annabelle is far more likely to want to pull everyone's strings)

Instead of the Jason/Janet romance there's a Tim&Gerry friendship

Since there's no romance there's no need for a rebound boyfriend, however Gerry ends up feeling really alone in Annabelle's reboot and builds himself a new best friend to cope

It does not go well

Michael/Helen is a glitchy, non-functional almost-human who nearly blows everyone's cover with the chaos they cause

They have two faces, two personalities, two identities that they flip between seemingly at random

They get more stable the more times they're rebooted

They go chill with Salesa in the Medium Place while the main crew makes their bid for the Good Place, fails, begs the Judge (Dekker) for mercy, and ends up back on earth

Instead of a near-death psychological study they're all brought together again with an un-death paranormal study

Run by Jon and his new girlfriend Georgie

Yes, Peter is the demon Magnus sends to interfere

Yes, Gertrude drop-kicks him back off the planet

They form the Soul Squad and go off into the world to save people

Not really sure who

But they end up visiting OG Elias and realizing how deep the problems with the system go

They pass through accounting, which is run by Oliver Banks, and meet the neutral Gerry

I'm thinking Leitner is that one demon who's forced to assign point values to weird sex acts

Not sure who makes up the Good Place council

But they make their way back to the Judge and get the whole "test neighborhood" thing to happen

The new humans are Daisy, Basira, Melanie, and Georgie

I know it would make sense for Jon to end up in charge of the neighborhood as Gertrudes's replacement, but nope, he gets his memory wiped because he's awful at lying and he can't pretend he doesn't know Georgie

Martin ends up in charge after Gertrude freaks out

Jon does not actually end up as a participant in the study, since none of the new humans are demons in disguise, so he's just kind of wandering around like a loose end

Georgie definitely pulls the "this is a near-death hallucination" thing

Martin breaks his own heart telling Jon that Georgie's his soulmate, hoping Jon will be able to convince her it's all real

It backfires

Jon's miserable

He eventually confides in Tim (he and Sasha are pretending to be normal humans) that he thinks there's been a mistake, unless... do you think platonic soulmates are a thing?

He doesn't want to date Georgie

He's in love with Martin

Tim tells Martin and Martin has to handcuff himself to his desk so he doesn't run off and kiss Jon senseless

Yes, they establish that platonic soulmates are a thing

Georgie starts dating Melanie

Jon and Martin pine from a distance

I'm thinking Basira is the problem resident who is not making any progress towards improvement

She's very reluctant to see the complicated morals of a situation and takes a long time to break out of her "us vs them" mindset

When they're approaching the one-year anniversary of the new neighborhood and the end of the experiment Melanie and Georgie gather together Tim, Sasha, Daisy, Basira, and Jon

They pull out a huge red-string theory board and say there's something wrong with the neighborhood

Tim and Sasha exchange nervous glances

Georgie says she thinks it's all orchestrated by Martin

They make a plan to meet up at the party that evening

Tim and Sasha go straight to Martin, Gertrude, and Gerry and tell them what's going down

They decide to run out the clock and hope nothing goes too wrong

When Martin stops by his office Jon is waiting for him

Jon spills Georgie and Melanie's whole theory

"They think you're plotting against us, but I know you wouldn't"

"Whatever this is, you're as much a pawn as we are, I think"

"This is supposed to be the Good Place, right? So no one should be unhappy"

"But I am unhappy, Martin. You are too! I've seen the look you get, when you think no one's looking"

"Martin, I've seen the way you look at me. You must know how I feel about you. What kind of Good Place would not allow us to be together?"

Martin is imploding

He really really really wants to kiss Jon

But instead he takes him by the shoulders and tells him "I know what's going on. You're right, there's something more here than you've been told, but trust me when I tell you it's nothing bad. I won't let anything bad happen to you, Jon. I've got you"

"Please just play along with whatever happens tonight, I promise I'll explain everything soon"

And Jon does. Even when the sinkhole happens, even when Martin laughs in his face and tells him he's in the Bad Place

"I really got you, Jon," he says. "I got you good"

"I've got you," Jon remembers, and trusts him

Anyway there's a lot of drama but the neighborhood was a success

Jon gets his memories back and there's a tearful reunion

They start implementing test neighborhoods for everyone so everyone has a chance of reaching the Good Place

And Jon, Martin, Tim, Sasha, Gertrude, and Gerry finally get to go as well

Of course they still need to fix the Good Place itself but that goes fine

And then everyone gets a happy ending, with as much time as they want to spend with the people they love

[ranboo5]

TMA Fears and how they manifest in my experiences w/ MCY7/D$MP as someone who got semi into D$MP by accident with no prior MCY7 knowledge

The Corruption: Every time a streamer claims they love their fans The Buried: Trying to discuss any fucking actual issues in this community with any nuance at all. No matter how many friends you talk to you and all those takes get buried in one by whatever is the hot new Discourse (see: the Vast) The Hunt: The hot new Discourse and the ever present fear of people with it coming for you  The Lonely: Like the Buried but you don’t have friends with similar takes to discuss these particular takes about sadge The Dark: When bitches are mentioning lore is upcoming but they don’t say what, or when. Or when they say “oooh I dropped lore hints in previous streams and you guys just did not notice. I am not telling you anything else” this IS a vague  The Eye: People mentioning the Discord server in donos to streamers. I’m not saying who but if you know you fucking know  The Web: The algorithm. I don’t need to explain this. Are you watching the next video because you want to watch the next video? Are you watching it because it’s being shown to you? Both? Neither? Does it matter?  The Slaughter: D$MP discourse TikTok. I again don’t need to explain this. The Vast: Twitter dot com. Twitch chats. Any large congregation of viewers. When a streamer breathes and such a large mass of people tweet about it spontaneously that the whole fucking world sees a trending tag. When overwhelming fucking forces of information seem to gather to the worst common denominator. The mob is more than the sum of its parts and the beast is blind and mindless, and it’s so big that no one can comprehend it or appease it, least of all some whiteboy with no PR team; and if the mob is merciful, all it seeks to slake its thirst for entertainment is blood.  The Flesh: Endless thumbnails of streamers’ faces making extreme expressions. The streamers all look vaguely similar. The thumbnails all look identical. The content is the same -- some guys hanging out as friends. For your enjoyment. For your consumption. For your consumption to become a product as inhuman as what is consumed. A processing line of human expression, turned into a product for something that doesn’t exist. You do not know whether to be horrified or to take your place on the processing line, just so you don’t have to think about it. The Spiral: Seeing a D$MP discourse take that is not just a confusing read but sounds completely deranged and based on information that just does not exist?? Did you miss the stream when this was canonized?? Why have you not heard about it?? Did they just make it up??? Did you hear about it and forget??? Is this in fact a distant misinterpretation of something that did happen, warped beyond recognition??? It is a key point of their argument. They are stating it with utter confidence. One of you is either lying or unhinged, or possibly both.  The Desolation: Allegedly Techn0blade’s old Bedwars video purge. I might be a fake Techn0blade fan though because basically all I did was rewatch his Skyblock series repeatedly so I missed out on this boat entirely The Stranger: Being a D$MP!R4nboo enjoyer dealing with other alleged D$MP!R4nboo enjoyers who like D$MP!R4nboo but not D$MP!Techn0blade. This is the strongest one by far. This made me viscerally understand the name I Do Not Know You for the Stranger. This is fucking terrifying. These Benchtrio-main-Boreal-denier devotees wear the skin of a R4nboo enjoyer but there is nothing behind those eyes. I can’t explain it but it’s somehow the single-character equivalent of shipping the first white twinks your eyes fall on when you get into a fandom. This is the sexymanification of that funny enderman. They claim to like R4nboo, but they don’t like R4nboo. They like Something Else. They like a character that doesn’t exist. They hate a character just as nonexistent. But they’re in the tag, they’re drawing the fanart, they’re even reblogging some of your jokes, but you look at their blog and their takes and how their posts read and somehow you know that whatever they are they are not one of you  The Extinction: By this point in the post it should be clear that I think that streamers as a concept are a manifestation of the Extinction. The End: Streamers are kept alive past cancellation and as either side escalates they only live longer. The slow decay of these systems would be something I revel in, but it will nver come. TMA says the End is all powerful, that all it must do is wait, but this is I think proof of concept that it’s not really true. There is no inevitable decline. There is no fear of death here. There is only the fear of filthy, mundane immortality and the corpses of running gags resurrected for more YouTube clicks

[dathen]

TMA 165 Liveblog Dump

Jon being like "oh I used to be so bad about poetry, but I'm better now!! I don't think all poetry is bad anymore!!" Martin:  what changed? Jon:  <_<;;;; uhhhh idk I See Through You Mr. Sims I got so consumed by Hot Jon and Carousel Jon content afterwards I forgot to post this fdfhfhhf

this is 99% merry-go-round cuteness overload meltdown that resulted in my liveblog twitter being locked for posting too fast enjoy

revolutions was a MERRY GO ROUND none of our predictions guessed that

“we need to go through them...metaphorically. we need to...experience them” well that sounds alarmingly similar to the scars

jon: have you been on a merry-go-round recently? me:  JON?? LIKES MERRY-GO-ROUNDS?????? martin: no, why? me:  JON MERRY-GO-ROUDN????? jon:  I actually, ah, there's one at london zoo-- ME: *FLIPS A TABLE* JON!! LIKES!! MERRY-GO-ROUNDS!!!

*tears streaming down my face* JON CUTE JON CUTE

JON GO ON A DATE WITH ME AND WE CAN GO ON A MERRY GO ROUND oh fuck where did that come from

jon:  this merry-go-round went quite fast, actually, it was surprisingly thrilling I CAN'T HANDLE HIM I CAN'T THAT'S THE MOST OLD MAN THING TO SAY BUT IT'S SO CUTE THAT HE IS A FELLOW 30-YEAR-OLD WHO LIKES CAROUSELS YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME

SURPRISINGLY THRILLING MERRY-GO-ROUND how do you expect me to move on from that and hit play again. twitter is gonna ban me for spam

Narrator:  Twitter did, in fact, ban them for spam.

why are we here?? just to suffer??? every week Jon Cute

MARTIN SOUNDS SO ENDEARED can you imagine what a time of his life he's been having reconciling every New Jon Fact with the dour snarly boss from season 1.  picturing university student Jon getting excited about carousels.  I am going to weep I can't handle them

can this be a Thing?? Jon taking Martin on a date involving carousels and Martin realizes they're fun in tame nostalgic way when there's someone trying to hold your hand reaching between the horses instead of a mother snapping at you to hold still? they get ice cream after??

I really shouldn't get so worked up over cute date ideas when they're about to go through a haunted carousel but I have been Unleashed

[Twitter bans me for spam]

"It's not Nikola. It's, uh, an old friend" oh FUCK fucking HELL is it not!sasha???? I am TERRIFIED

oh man this dynamic of Jon getting overwhelmed with the need to record his Guidebook but there's actual active monsters prowling the area they need to avoid, that's some good tension and also I am scared

I love Martin suggesting the plan for him to do that first.  Lovely non-judgmental practical Martin   <3

Statement time.   this is some WTNV-level surrealistic horror

holy shit this is some goddamn freeform poetry. is that alliterative verse mixed in there???  I'm just sitting here like :0 :0 :0

DOES JONNY NEED TO BREATHE?? AIR?? DO YOU WANT OXYGEN????

I just realized the beginning of this ep was the reverse of them with the slaughter victims in 162.  Martin taking a look at them being like "ah yes, the monsters" and Jon correcting them "no, they're people"

ARE THEY TALKING ABOUT JON'S POETRY STATEMENT I'MGLGJFKSDHGDKGH  Martin:  Was it any good? Jon:  I don't know! You're the poetry expert, not me! HRHTHHTHRHRTHHT POETRY EXPERT...HOW FAR WE'VE COME..

Jon being like "oh I used to be so bad about poetry, but I'm better now!! I don't think all poetry is bad anymore!!" Martin:  what changed? Jon:  <_<;;;; uhhhh idk I See Through You Mr. Sims

Jon going from panicking and crying hiding from the not!them to "leave us alone, I won't warn you again"  J...JON....H  HOT

(okay panicking and crying is a different kind of Hot but we won’t go there rn)

JON LAUGHING AT THE NOT!THEM I'M GONNA PASS OUT

JON LAUGHING AT AND TAUNTING ONE OF THE MONSTERS THAT CAUSED THEM SO MUCH PAIN AND HEARTACHE STUFFS INTO MY FACE LIKE CANDY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME

THE MUSIC CHANGE at "what did you say" after she taunts him about sasha holy SHIT

A MONSTER SOUNDING FRIGHTENED OF JON A MONSTER TRYING TO APOLOGIZE TO JON AFTER EARNING HIS ANGER I dont care about Implications or Premonitions THIS IS THE DREAM (tm)

JON MAKING THE NOT!THEM FEEL THE TERROR OF EVERYONE IT HURT?????  I???? I CANNOT EVEN PROCESS HOW SEXY THAT IS THAT IS A THOUSAND TIMES MORE SATISFYING THAN JUST FRYING WITH BRAIN POWER. THAT IS -VENGEANCE- AND IT IS DELICIOUS

martin:  JON HOT JON HOT JON HOT

me and martin last week:  JON CUTE JON CUTE me and martin this week:  JON HOT JON HOT

[nyctolovian]

Welcome to the Queer Beer Frontier

This is an incredibly self-indulgent word vomit of my sexuality/gender headcanons for TMA S1 Archival Gang. 

Summary: The S1 Archival Gang are all not cishet. That's the whole fic. 

Link to AO3

"Am I right, Jon?"

With eyes glazed over with intoxication, he looked up from his glass. "Huh?"

"Keira Knightley," Tim said, raising an eyebrow. "You're the only person I can turn to for this. The other two are useless in this regard."

"I don't… I don't get…" Jon frowned and glanced towards the other two at the table. Neither was of any help though, because Sasha merely stared at him silently with amusement twinkling in her eyes while Martin busied himself with… something under the table. "What are you talking about?"

"Aww... Doesn't he look adorable when he's confused?" Sasha said, turning to Martin, who sputtered and glared indignantly back at her.

Before Jon could even begin to decipher what just transpired, Tim threw his head back and groaned so loudly a giggly group of girls at the other table peered at him curiously. In a futile attempt to avoid any association to this scene, Jon scrunched his body to hide behind his (conveniently) bigger friends.

His escape attempt proved futile, however, when Tim threw an arm around Jon and tugged him closer. "We didn't invite you to drink with us just so you can sit there looking pretty, boss," he said.

"Wh—" Jon grunted affrontedly, brows furrowing. He rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand and tried to blink through his drowsy alcohol-induced haze. "I really don't—"

"I said, Keira Knightley is the very definition of hot," Tim drawled. "Don't you agree?"

Confusion crossed over Jon's features. "I suppose so."

"You suppose so?" Tim scoffed. "Alright, alright. Maybe she isn't your type. How about Tessa Thompson?"

Jon let out a non-committal noise as he pressed the rim of his glass against his lips. When no liquid hit his tongue, he blinked and looked into the cup.

Empty.

"Lucy Liu?"

Jon lifted his glass and looked around dazedly. "Does anyone—"

"What about Lucy Liu?"

"I really don't— My glass is empty?"

"Oh, sorry. Got distracted," Martin said, rubbing the back of his neck and slowly sliding out of his chair. "It's my round."

"I, well, yes, that'd be—"

Tim barged in with another question. "Okay, then, what about Anna Kendrick?"

"Not really."

"Not really?!" Tim yelled. "Alright, what about—"

"For god's sake, Tim, stop asking me these questions!" Jon groaned. "I'm too bloody ace for this."

Martin blinked at him, eyes owlishly wide with curiosity. "What do you mean?" he asked in a half-squat above his chair.

Jon's initially liquor-tinged face blanched. Suddenly it was show-and-tell in Year 2 all over again, eyes fixated upon him, as he struggled not to cry from stage fright. Except the topic today was far less innocuous than 'My Favourite Animal'. He ran a hand over his face.

Jon wished he could time-travel two hours back to throttle himself for accepting Sasha's invitation to drink. He should have gone home and taken a good long nap.

Unfortunately for him, he was stuck in this crap-hill of a situation. Jon gulped, looking everywhere but at his friends, as he tried to push Tim away. The silence was suffocating and he was pressured to fill it. "Fuck. I didn't mean to…"

Sasha leaned across the table. "Wait, you said you're ace? As in asexual?"

"I… uh, yes?" Jon shrunk into himself. "So what?" he hissed defensively.

Hands shooting up defensively, Sasha shook her head. "Oh, it's not like that! I'm also—"

Tim interrupted her with a whoop so loud that Jon had to yank himself out of his chokehold lest his eardrums burst. Martin had to leap off his chair and cover a hand over Tim's mouth to stop the hollering. Even then, he still did a whole lot of muffled yelling. "We're in public, Tim!" Martin chastised.

Tim tried to pull Martin's hand off, but to no avail.

"I'll take it off if you promise to stop yelling."

He rolled his eyes and nodded. As soon as Martin let go of Tim, however, he flashed the smuggest smirk and said, "So archiving is a gays-only event."

Martin let out a groan and Jon frowned in confusion. "What?"

"We honestly thought all this while you were homophobic," Tim said. "But turns out you're one of us."

Sasha raised her hand. "Disclaimer: I didn't think you were homophobic. Just uptight."

"But I..." Jon muttered, rubbing his eyes. "Wait, so you're all gay?"

"Alright, fellas," Sasha said, clapping her hands. "From the top! I'm aromantic heterosexual."

Tim dramatically placed a hand upon his chest. "And I'm the neighbourhood Bi-con!"

Nervously, Martin said, "Uh, no labels. But not straight."

Invitingly, Sasha gestured towards Jon.

He blinked. "Oh. Uh. Panromantic asexual. Um, and also nonbinary."

"Niiice," Tim said, patting his back hard. "I can't believe we took this long to figure this all out."

"I don't like assuming," Jon admitted.

"But I thought we were being incredibly obvious. Well, me and Martin were at least. We just thought you never mentioned because you were ignoring all of it on purpose."

Jon hummed. He had caught Tim flirting with a couple dudes who came to the archives before. Somehow, however, he had never registered those incidents properly and the idea that Tim wasn't straight had sailed past him entirely. He felt a bit stupid, thinking back right now.

He tried to recall an instance for Martin but drew absolutely nothing, however. "Was Martin very obvious?"

"Oh!" Sasha wheezed, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Martin here is–" she slapped his back "— painfully obvious."

"Huh," Jon muttered. "I really never noticed."

"You really should," Tim said. "Oh, right. Isn't it your turn to buy us a round, Martin? Do you want to get some right now? While we talk to Jon."

The flush that overtook Martin's face made his freckles darken as he resolutely sat in his seat, beside himself with distraught.

"Alright, alright. Enough teasing," Sasha said to Tim. "Martin, I promise I will keep him in his place so just get us the round already."

After Martin's eyes darted from Sasha to Tim to Jon, then back to Sasha, he shot up from his seat with a huff. "I trust you, okay?" Then, he made a beeline for the bartender.

"Am I missing something?" Jon asked. "I feel like I am."

Sasha shook her head. "We're just all feeling pretty excited is all. It's not every day the notorious Jonathan Sims would come out to people."

"Notorious?" Jon wrinkled his nose. "From what I'm gathering, I'm not very welcome in this archival team. First, I'm homophobic and now notorious."

"Hey," Tim said, "you can't blame me for thinking you might be a homophobe. You don't exactly give off queer vibes."

"Aspec people like us don't really get much opportunity to be overtly queer," Sasha muttered, leaning back. "We're a low-lying bunch."

"Hey! But I could tell that you weren't straight. But Jon flew right under my gay-dar. And I'm usually really good at detecting comrades."

"Time to send that radar for repairs then," Jon replied with a smirk.

"You're not much better!"

"I never claimed to be good at detecting comrades."

Just then, Martin came back, and Jon was pleased to finally get more alcohol. With how much he'd been blabbing already, it felt like that kind of night.

After a while, Jon's head started spinning in what felt like cartwheels and somersaults. Drowsily, he placed his head on the regrettably grimy table. He watched the other three's back-and-forth for a while before suddenly stepping in. "Why no labels?" he asked Martin. "Just curious."

"Hm?" He straightened up. "Oh. Just… not too fond of being put into labels. None of the terms ever sit quite right with me for some reason."

"Fair enough," Jon muttered, voice thick with exhaustion. "I took ages before finding what felt right for me."

"How did you realise you were ace then?" Tim asked.

"Don't know. Just sort of always knew but didn't have a word for it. So when the word asexuality came along…" He waved his hand as though to say, "And the rest was history."

"Is it not liking sex?" Sasha asked. "I personally never really got what's so good about romance. I think it's just messy stuff if you ask me."

"Sex is… It's fine?" Jon winced. "I don't hold any strong opinions on the matter although I do sometimes find it quite fascinating."

"Jesus Christ. It's sex, Jon. Not some academic discussion," Tim scoffed.

He pouted.

"Then, how did you figure it out?" Martin asked.

"Oh. I, uh… It just felt like there was something everyone else seemed to have no trouble getting that I couldn't. Turns out that thing was sexual attraction." He shrugged. His eyelids were growing rather heavy. "I quite like being ace, you know that? I've never told that to anyone else," he slurred the admission.

"Are you tired, Jon?" Martin asked.

"Mhm."

"Do you want to take a nap?"

He nodded, rubbing his face against the wooden table. Sasha ran her fingers through his hair and he hummed, eyelids sliding shut.

Jon remembered how frustrated he used to be when he was younger. Curious and stubborn since he could remember, there was no way he would let this thing he couldn't understand simply slide under the rug. He remembered thinking he might be pansexual, but that didn't sit right in his chest. It took years of hunting down a proper answer and a couple more to acknowledge it.

Sometimes, Jon would mourn over the fact that he would never understand what on earth this "sexual attraction" thing was. Most of the time, however, he found himself quite comfortable in his own skin, finally able to categorise his experience. Now, asexuality was a label he embraced.

And it felt good knowing there were people close by who accepted him.

[ollieofthebeholder]

leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall): a TMA fanfic

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 32: Martin

They’re right. Jon Prime can’t see the colors of fear like Tim can. It’s something between a shock and a relief to all of them, but especially to Jon. Less pleasing is the news that, apparently, the one in the Institute who can see marks is Jonah, although Jon Prime admits he doesn’t know how he sees them, or even if he actually sees them or just Knows they’re there.

Tim gets very dramatic about this, but Martin suspects it really does bother him more than a little.

They won’t let Tim push himself to experiment, but he does a couple of carefully controlled and supervised peeks at objects and statements. Martin and Martin Prime are both extremely vocal and vehement in their opposition to him going up to Artifact Storage to have a look around, and even Sasha agrees it would be a really terrible idea. Jon makes it unanimous by declaring that Tim has met his quota of bad decisions for the year and begun borrowing against the next. Tim gives in gracefully enough.

He cheers up some when the first Sunday in Advent passes—not that any of them are churchgoers, but it’s a convenient way to mark the start of the season—and they’re able to decorate their house for Christmas. Martin hasn’t celebrated, really, since his grandfather died, and Jon even longer ago than that, but it’s hard not to join in with Tim’s enthusiasm. Jon finds a sprig of mistletoe and hangs it over the door; Sasha teases him about it, then evidently regrets it when it touches off a mini-lecture about its history as a protective plant to ward off witches and demons.

Martin finds himself staring at it every time they pass through the front door. It’s just a silly superstition, of course, but if he thought it would work, he’d deck out every door and window in the place. From the fact that he comes back from lunch one day and sees Tim with a search page called up for protective plants and charms, he suspects he’s not alone in that.

As the calendar goes over into December, they’re all beginning to relax somewhat. Jon is less neurotic; Sasha is less secretive and a bit more open about what she’s doing (emphasis on a bit). Martin is able to keep himself from overcompensating for his shortcomings (or, as Jon insists on referring to them, perceived shortcomings), and Tim hasn’t done anything catastrophically stupid in three weeks. Even the Primes seem more relaxed. Jon Prime is getting progressively stronger; he still says he has trouble thinking down in the tunnels, but he’s able to move around without needing to sleep for two days afterward. Martin Prime seems less worried about him, seems being the operative term. Martin knows it can’t last, but he hopes they’ll at least get through the new year before they have to start really worrying about fears and monsters and cops and bosses.

He should really know better by now.

Martin assumes the footsteps on the stairs belong to Tim or Sasha. He cut his lunch a bit short because he was expecting a callback regarding a statement follow-up, which he’s just ended, and he assumes it took longer than he anticipated. He looks up, ready to pass on the information, but the words dry up in his throat at the sight of the person striding towards him. Solid, with well-defined muscles and a blonde crew cut, the woman looks a good deal like the description of the assassin in the Jeffrey Archer book he did his last school report on, but despite being in plainclothes, she screams cop. This, then, must be Detective Alice “Daisy” Tonner, and Martin has no idea why she’s here.

Her eyes narrow when she spots Martin, and he shrinks back instinctively from the intensity in her eyes before he gets a hold on himself. He hasn’t, he reminds himself, done anything wrong. “Can I help you, ma’am?” he asks, his voice only squeaking a little.

“You’re Martin Blackwood?” she demands.

“Y-yes?”

“The Martin Blackwood?”

If this were any other situation, Martin might respond with a paraphrase of that line from one of the Hitchhiker’s Guide books, he can’t remember if it’s the second or third off the top of his head: No, just a Martin Blackwood, don’t you know I come in six packs? That, however, would be tantamount to suicide. Then he remembers that the Primes got pulled over. “I’m the Martin Blackwood that works in the Institute, yes. Can I help you?”

Daisy—it’s impossible to think of her as anything else—eyeballs him, then grunts. “Detective Daisy Tonner. I need to talk to the Head Archivist.”

“Yep. Of course. Right this way.” Martin jumps to his feet, nearly toppling his chair over backwards, and starts towards Jon’s office. “Uh, can I get you a…cup of tea or…?”

“I’m fine,” Daisy growls.

The small, furry mammal of Martin’s inner being flattens its ears and crouches in the grass, desperately hoping to avoid being seen, and Martin swallows hard. “R-right. Um. This way.”

He leads Daisy over to Jon’s office door and opens it cautiously. He’s pretty sure Jon isn’t recording, at least not on the tape recorder, but he’s usually careful anyway, especially since none of them knock anymore; Jon’s asked them to stop and they’ve decided, collectively, not to ask questions. Yet.

Jon looks up from the spread of papers on his desk and smiles, but it fades quickly. Martin can only imagine what his face must look like. “Martin. Is everything all right?”

“There’s a Detective Tonner here to see you,” Martin answers.

He is in complete agreement with whatever emotion Jon’s face is attempting to convey as he shuts the folder and shoves the papers aside. “Ah…send her in.”

“Okay. I’m, um, there’s something I need to run down,” Martin says. “U-unless you need me to stick around.”

Jon seems to understand. Of course he does. “No, I should be all right.” He doesn’t sound completely sure. “Make certain your phone is on you, though.”

Martin doesn’t bother pointing out that the tunnels don’t get service. “Right.” He steps out and nods to Daisy. “You can go in.”

Daisy doesn’t thank him, just pushes past him and shuts the door. Martin stands still for a moment, trying to shake the creeping feeling of dread, then turns and heads for the trapdoor leading to the tunnels.

Something I need to run down. Jon told Martin, after Melanie’s visit, that he liked that as a code phrase for ducking into the tunnels, so they’ve all been using it lately. Usually it’s to ask the Primes a question or clarify something, sometimes just to check up on them and see if they need anything. Jon and Sasha are taking it in turns to map out the tunnels, too—they’ve almost finished the first level. Maybe. Tim and Martin, on the other hand, occasionally go down just to get some relief from the constant pressure of the Eye.

It’s interesting, Martin thinks as he clicks on his torch and descends the steps, how differently they react to the tunnels, or more specifically to the effect of the tunnels on them. Tim embraces it, and Martin suspects he would spend all his time down there if he thought he could get away with it, but he usually goes down at least once a day, if only for a few minutes. Sasha finds it kind of exciting, not being able to just ferret out the tunnel’s secrets easily, but the problem is that she’s addicted to the mystery of it. Jon is in a weird place; on the one hand, he also wants to know everything about the tunnels that he can, but on the other, he’s already starting to get to a point where if he stays down for too long, he winds up drained and shaky. Both he and Sasha are under strict injunctions not to spend more than an hour a day in the tunnels, and privately, Martin thinks that might be too long for both of them.

And Martin? He’s in a weird place, too. He does like the comfort of not being constantly watched, and of knowing that he can ask people how they’re feeling and know he won’t accidentally compel them to answer, and if he’s being honest, it’s one of the two places in the world he feels completely safe and relaxed (his mind skips away from actually acknowledging what the other place is). At the same time, though, he feels…guilty. Like he’s abandoning someone who’s depending on him.

With a sigh, he leans against the wall of the tunnel for just a moment, then straightens up and heads down to the Primes’ “room”. The door is open, and Martin can just faintly hear Jon Prime’s voice. It’s too low to make out the words, but when he cautiously pokes his head around the doorframe, he sees the Primes sitting up against the wall of the room, their battery-operated camping lantern lit and casting a soft golden glow over the pair of them. Martin Prime’s head rests on Jon Prime’s lap, and Jon Prime absently tangles the fingers of one hand through his curls. In his other hand he holds a book, and he’s reading aloud in a low, soothing voice. Martin almost wants to duck back out again, sit on the floor outside the room, and just listen for a little while.

But Jon Prime glances up as he turns a page, sees him, and makes a small noise of surprise. “Martin. I didn’t see you there. Is everything all right?”

“M-maybe?” Martin feels his cheeks go hot. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt, I—”

“It’s fine,” Jon Prime assures him. He keeps his voice low, and Martin wonders if Martin Prime is asleep. “Come on in. What time is it?”

Martin points his torch at his wristwatch, just to be sure. “Almost one in the afternoon. I just—it’s maybe not an emergency. I can come back—”

“Sit.” Jon Prime sets the book aside and glances down at Martin Prime. “How are you, love?”

“I’m fine. It’s fading fast,” Martin Prime replies. He starts to sit up, but Jon Prime stops him with a hand to the chest. “Jon…”

“Relax. Rest. You don’t need to—you’re fine.” Jon Prime looks up at Martin. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No, ‘course not.” Martin comes into the room and automatically makes sure he doesn’t shine the torch in Martin Prime’s eyes. “I just…I just wanted to let you know, I guess. Daisy just turned up.”

Jon Prime sucks in a deep breath. “Oh, God.”

“She’s just here to deliver the next tape, though, right?” Martin asks. Anxiety suddenly grips him. He shouldn’t have left the Archives, no matter what Jon said. “She won’t hurt him, will she?”

“N-no.” Jon Prime doesn’t sound too sure. “She didn’t hurt me this time around…not physically. But…in theory, yes, she’s just dropping off the next tape. I accidentally compelled a statement out of her—I hadn’t yet learned I could do that—and made her rather angry, but…well, let’s hope it won’t come to that.” He takes a deep breath. “Then again, she did encounter us. Who knows what she’s thinking.”

“Christ, I should’ve stayed up there. I-if Jon’s going to—God, he’s going to be exhausted after, and none of us are there to cut the statement.” Martin sucks in a breath. “And he’s alone, if she does anything—I’ve got to get back up there.”

“Go easy,” Martin Prime cautions him. “And don’t break the door to his office down. She might…you won’t be the one she takes it out on.”

Martin takes a deep breath. “Okay. Okay. Um, d-do you two need anything?”

“Some paracetamol, maybe?” Jon Prime asks. “We’re getting low.”

Martin winces and glances at Martin Prime. “Migraines?”

“Mm-hmm. Hadn’t had one in a while. I kind of thought I outgrew them, but…” Martin Prime gestures vaguely at his head. “Been bad for the last week or so.”

“I’ll be back later with some aspirin,” Martin promises. “Works better for migraines. M-maybe some of that ginger tea, too? We’ve got a ton of it.”

“Thank you,” Martin Prime says with a soft smile. “Be careful.”

Martin hums in agreement, then heads back to the stairs.

By his watch, it’s been no more than five, ten minutes since he came down into the tunnels—not nearly enough time for Jon to take Daisy’s statement, and Tim and Sasha probably won’t even be back yet. He climbs the stairs, head bowed in thought, pushes the trapdoor open, and steps out into the Archives.

And flinches.

Elias—Jonah—stands next to Martin’s desk, hands clasped in front of him, patiently waiting. His piercing grey eyes are fixed on Martin as he stands, half-in and half-out of the tunnel.

“Martin,” he says calmly. “I wondered where everyone was. Surely you don’t all go to lunch at the same time—have you been exploring the tunnels on Institute time?”

Martin panics slightly. He swallows hard, and he knows his knees are shaking as he climbs out and lets the trapdoor close behind him. “I-I came back from lunch a bit early to take a phone call. Jon told me t-to go ahead and take the rest of it once the call was done.”

“In the tunnels?”

Martin swallows hard. He’s usually fairly good at coming up with a plausible lie to cover something he shouldn’t do, or at least of distracting people from the fact that he needs to lie. But somehow, he doesn’t think he’ll manage it. Not completely.

“I’ve—I’ve been putting some things together,” he says. He manages to take a step closer, then another, until he’s by his desk and not far from Elias. Definitely closer than he wants to be, but it seems important that he do it like this. “Making connections.”

“Have you now,” Elias says blandly.

Martin takes a deep breath. He’s got to give Elias just enough of the truth to make it plausible, but not let on how much he knows, and most importantly, he can’t let Elias know the others know, too. “I’ve been thinking about the statements. One in particular. That woman who ran into Gerard Keay and the—the burn victim. There’s something he said to her, something I can’t stop thinking about—‘For you, better beholding than the lightless flame.’ I wondered what that meant, and—and then I started thinking. You know, I-I feel like—we all feel like—we’re being watched a lot down here, a-and I know it’s not CCTV or anything because there aren’t any cameras down here, but that’s what it feels like—like someone’s peering over our shoulders all the time. And that statement had a lot of eyes in it, you know? There was even an eye pressed up against the camera for just a minute on the footage we looked at.” He swallows hard. “When I go down in the tunnels—I don’t feel that. I can think down there, because I don’t feel like someone’s looking at my thoughts a-and judging them. It’s not just the woman’s imagination, o-or a crazy delusion. There is something that watches us. It might even be called the Beholding. A-at least, that’s what I’ve been calling it. And it’s here. I think it’s watching the Institute. All the time.”

There’s a brief silence, during which Martin swears he can almost hear the Eye blinking. It’s fond of you, Martin Prime said, way back in the beginning of all this, and Martin desperately hopes that’s true. Or at least that it’s fond enough of him to keep Elias from knowing how much he’s withholding. Then, suddenly, he realizes that’s going about it the wrong way and starts instead hoping that the Eye is curious enough about how this interaction will play out to keep Elias from knowing how aware the Archives team is.

“That’s very clever of you, Martin,” Elias says after what’s probably no more than a second, but feels like an eternity. “How long have you known all this?”

Not thought you’ve known, Martin notes. Known. Interesting. And frightening. “A while. At least since the Jane Prentiss attack. I-I was alone a lot, I had time to think, so…I did.”

Elias hums slightly. “I see. And what are you going to do about it, exactly?”

“Wh-what? I mean…” Martin flounders slightly and casts an involuntary glance in the direction of Jon’s firmly shut office door. “I-it’s not like I can—what do you mean?”

“I mean, Martin, do you intend to keep this knowledge to yourself?” Elias lifts an eyebrow. “Or do you plan to tell Jon?”

Sadly, there’s no right answer to this question. Martin tries to summon up his train of thought from back when Martin Prime first started telling him about all this. What would he have done if the Primes hadn’t been there to tell Jon? “I—I have to. He gets upset when we keep things from him, a-and he’s paranoid enough as it is, so if he thinks I’m keeping secrets…I promised I wouldn’t anymore. W-we all did.”

“Of course.” Elias’ voice drips with soothing insincerity and makes Martin’s skin crawl. “Will he believe you, though?”

“I’ve got—I can show him the connections I made,” Martin says. “He can be a bit skeptical sometimes, but he’s not stupid. A-and we’ve all seen enough, done enough, between Jane Prentiss and the couple of things we’ve been able to verify and—I at least have to try.” He swallows. “I don’t think he’ll be skeptical about this.”

“No,” Elias agrees, which surprises Martin. “I don’t suppose he will. And I’m sure your evidence is very convincing. But what will you do if he doesn’t believe you?”

Martin licks his lips and tries to shrug. “Protect him, I guess. As best as I can. If I’m right, he’ll find out the truth eventually on his own.”

“Oh, you are.” Elias’ frank admission makes the breath catch in Martin’s throat. He expected Elias to prevaricate, or attempt to convince him he was imagining things, but…no, no, this is definitely more frightening. “You’re absolutely right, Martin. And I’m sure, as smart as you are, that you’ve gone over a number of other statements beyond Ms.—Saraki’s, was it?—and found even more connections to support your theory, so you know this goes well beyond the Institute.”

“I-I…yes?” The more Elias agrees with him, or seems to praise him, the more frightened Martin gets. Which is probably the point.

“Mm. I wonder, though, if you really understand the implications of what you’ve discovered. There is so much more to this than you realize, Martin, and I wonder if you realize how harmful telling Jon would be.”

“Why? Because he’ll ask the wrong questions?” Martin asks before he thinks about it. “If Jon—he won’t quit or anything, if that’s what you’re worried about. Not now. He’ll, he’ll look into things, start investigating. If I don’t have answers for him, he’ll try to find them on his own—that’s not a bad thing. What do you think will happen if I do?”

Elias jerks his head back slightly a split second before Martin tastes the static on his tongue and realizes what just happened. He tries not to let it show on his face. He’s fairly certain he isn’t supposed to know about that, and there’s no reason anyone would suspect that the Beholding gave them spooky knowing powers. Certainly he’s not supposed to have them. Hopefully his reaction doesn’t show on his face.

It doesn’t seem to. Elias gathers himself quickly. “You’re getting emotional, Martin. Just calm down.”

Martin isn’t sure if he’s relieved or alarmed that Elias seems able to resist his compelling. Then again, he’s not all that powerful. “I’m not emotional! I-I’m just—I was asking.”

“Of course Jon will try to find answers. But please understand that some of those answers…may not be in his best interest. Or yours, for that matter.” Elias leans slightly forward and meets Martin’s eyes. “Allow me to give you an example.”

Martin can’t stop the frightened gasp that rips itself from his throat as Jonah’s—there’s no denying in this instant that they belong to Jonah Magnus—eyes bore into Martin’s. The world seems to go black and white with a green wash and fill with static, and the thoughts fill his mind, thoughts and sights and memories not his own—

Her name on his lips is almost like a curse, and she lets one of her own fall as she sets aside the can and looks into those eyes, and she needs no prompting from the Eye to know what he has come to do. Even as they talk, as they both try to taunt each other and figure out who has the upper hand, she reaches into her pocket and fishes out the lighter, Gerard’s lighter—she never should have left the boy behind, but maybe it’s better this way—flicks it on. One little spark, and it will all end for him. But he reaches into his own pocket, pulls out a dark and ominous object, primes it, aims it at her. It comes to this, to which of them can ignite faster. She dares him to do it. He fires. She feels the impact, gasps and collapses, and for a moment, she wishes she had made other choices, she wishes—but no. She is dying, but in all she has done, she has kept safe that which she swore to keep safe. Still. She thought it would hurt more.

—and the color rushes back to the Archives, all the grey sucking into Jonah’s eyes as he blinks and straightens back up, adjusting his suit jacket with an imperious tug. Martin is pressed back against his desk, clutching it behind him with both hands and barely keeping from crumpling to the floor. His face is wet and his breath coming in short pants and gasps, and he realizes he’s sobbing, not sure if it’s with sorrow or fear. Maybe it’s both.

“Knowledge can be dangerous, Martin,” Elias says, as calmly as if he hasn’t just made Martin experience the death of a fiery old woman from inside her own head, at the hands of the man in front of him. “Do keep that in mind.” He turns to walk away, then pauses and glances over his shoulder. “Oh—and I would be cautious who I shared that knowledge with, if I were you. Jon isn’t the only one who would require proof, and I rather think Detective Tonner might have cause to suspect you had…ulterior motives in making such a wild and bold claim without evidence to back it up.” With that, he strides out of the Archives.

He passes Sasha coming in on his way out, or at least Martin’s pretty sure it’s Sasha; all he can see right now is a blur as he tries without success to get his sobbing under control. It’s definitely Sasha’s voice that speaks next, sounding worried. “Martin?”

“I—I’ll be right back,” Martin manages to choke out. He turns and bolts blindly from the Archives in the direction of the washroom. Once there, he locks himself in and slides down to the floor, buries his face in his arms, and cries.

It’s one thing to know Elias Bouchard murdered Gertrude Robinson. It’s another thing to experience it, to feel her dying moments imprint on him—what she felt in the moments leading up to it. And now he knows what it feels like to be shot, wonders if it felt like that for Martin Prime. God, he hopes he never has to deal with that again.

He takes a deep, shaking breath as the sobbing finally subsides and wipes at his face, then gets up to wash the tears and snot off. Once he’s done, he studies himself in the bathroom mirror. His eyes are reddened, his skin bears the too-shiny look of being freshly scrubbed, but it’s the best he can do. Hopefully it’ll be enough. He takes a deep breath and heads back into the Archives.

He gets there just as the door to the main corridor slams, making him jump. From the fact that Jon is frozen halfway across the Archives and Tim is over by their desks with Sasha, Martin guesses it’s Daisy leaving. Jon sighs and runs a hand through his hair, then turns and freezes. “Martin! Are you all right?”

Tim turns, his face creased in concern, and takes a step towards him with his arms already stretching out, but Martin shakes his head quickly. “Don’t—not right now. Please.”

It’s not that he doesn’t want a hug. He does, desperately. After what he’s been through, he can admit what he shied away from when he first went down to the tunnels—that the safest place in the world is in Tim and Jon’s arms. But he also knows that if he gives in and lets either of them touch him right now, he’ll fall apart. He’s just managed to get himself back together, and they still have half a day to get through, somehow.

Sasha holds out a mug—his mug, or at least the one he usually uses, the cobalt blue one with the raised pattern that looks like a cable-knit sweater, which happens to match the one he’s wearing today—brimming with tea. Martin accepts it with quiet thanks, then manages to sit down before he falls over. Tim pulls out his chair, turns it around, and straddles it, resting his chin on the back; Sasha sits down at her own desk, but doesn’t fire up her laptop yet. Jon hovers nearby, his face creased with anxiety and exhaustion in equal parts. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” Martin lies. He’s never felt less fine in his life, but he’s also not sure Elias isn’t listening; even if he’s not lurking right outside the Archives, he could be watching Martin, waiting to see how he’s going to bring up his “theories”. “I was—exploring the tunnels. While you were talking to Detective Tonner. Sorry for sneaking around on you.”

Jon looks confused for a split second, then suddenly seems to understand. “Well, it’s not like I haven’t been down there myself. We all have. In fact, I think we’d best just leave the trapdoor unlocked in the future. I’d like to have a complete map of it anyway. But please, all three of you—don’t go down alone. Certainly not without telling anyone. Take a companion if you feel the need to explore.” He slides off Martin’s desk. “Tell you what. Why don’t we all go down there right now? There’s nothing going on at the moment. We’ll take an hour and look around a bit. Together.”

Sasha grabs a piece of paper, writes BACK IN 60 MINUTES on it, folds it into a tent, and leaves it up on their desks, then gives Jon a charming smile. “Just in case Elias comes down to visit.”

“Right. Bring your tea, Martin, come on.” Jon strides briskly over to the trapdoor, which Martin didn’t lock when he came out.

Tea. Martin opens his desk drawer and pulls out the bottle of aspirin he keeps there, slips it into his pocket, and grabs the box of ginger tea off their station before following the others down into the tunnels. Tim waits for him at the foot of the stairs, makes like he’s going to put his hand on Martin’s back, then evidently remembers his earlier request and instead takes the box of tea out of his hands. Martin nods gratefully.

The door to the Primes’ room is still open. Jon pokes his head in the door. “Sorry to bother you, but I didn’t want to wait until after hours.”

“Two visits in a single day. I’m honored,” Jon Prime says dryly. He’s smirking a little, but his expression falls when he sees Martin come in the room. “I am now concerned.”

Tim hands over the box of ginger tea. “That makes…four of us. Five if Martin Prime there wants to join in the concern.”

“Sure. I love worrying,” Martin Prime says, his head still resting in Jon Prime’s lap. “I’m guessing it’s not your Jon we’re worrying about? Unless he’s more upset by Daisy’s statement than you were.”

“No, it’s Martin,” Sasha replies. “I came back from lunch just as Elias was leaving and Martin was—” She catches herself.

“Having a bit of a breakdown,” Martin replies softly.

“Oh, God. Already?” Martin Prime sits up abruptly, then winces, evidently regretting it.

“Have a seat. All of you,” Jon Prime instructs. He studies Martin in obvious concern. “What did he say to you?”

Martin pulls the aspirin out of his pocket and shakes it once before handing it to Jon Prime. “It’s…I don’t know where to start. He was waiting for me when I got out of the tunnels.”

Haltingly, clutching his tea in both hands and staring into its depths, he tells the others the whole story—Elias’ questions, his own half-truths. Sasha’s eyes brighten when he mentions accidentally attempting to compel Elias, and she turns to Jon Prime, whose lips are set in a thin line. He shakes his head. “I know what you’re thinking, Sasha, but it won’t work. He’s strong enough to resist you. I tried, once, with all the force I have…he answered me, but only because he wanted to.”

“So it’s like Zone of Truth? He can choose to fail the saving throw automatically?” Tim frowns. “That’s unfair.”

“Well, he’s had two hundred years to practice, Tim.” Jon Prime turns back to Martin, and his expression is grim. “I don’t imagine he was pleased with that. What did he say about that?”

“He didn’t mention it,” Martin replies. “I—I think I managed to not let on that I realized I’d done it? He just told me to calm down. Th-then he said…he said there were some answers that may not be in our best interest, and…” He takes a deep breath. “He showed me Gertrude’s death.”

“He what?” both Jons shout in unison.

Tim lets out a string of Italian hot enough to blister paint and starts to stand. Sasha grabs his pant leg and tugs him back down, but even she looks pale in the lantern light. “Showed you. How? Put the pictures in your head?”

“Not pictures. More than video, too. It was like…like VR, o-or—I don’t know how to explain it.” Martin’s voice shakes, and he has to set the tea mug down before he breaks it. “I-it was like I was Gertrude Robinson. I-I could, I could feel what she was feeling, I had her thoughts, a-and I was listening to her talking with Elias—with Jonah—a-and then he…she had a lighter, I think she was going to burn the Archives down, and he had a gun, and she was telling him to shoot her or leave her alone, so he did.”

Jon Prime closes his eyes tightly. “‘Thought it would hurt more,’” he murmurs.

Martin Prime rubs his chest absently. “She must have a higher pain tolerance than I do.”

“It wasn’t physical pain she was talking about,” Martin says. Something clicks into place and he knows it with a certainty he’s felt about precious little else in his life. “It was the emotional pain, the knowledge that she was dying, that her plan failed. That the Fears were still out there and Jonah’s plan could still succeed.” A stabbing headache, not quite a migraine but similar in intensity, hits him directly between the eyes, and he closes his eyes, rubbing at the spot.

“Christ, Martin,” Tim breathes. “Will you take that damn hug now?”

“Y-yeah.”Martin manages a smile as he opens his eyes again and Tim’s arm wraps around his shoulders, pulling him close. Jon reaches over and grips his hand hard; Sasha rests a hand on his other arm.

“God.” Jon Prime looks shaken. He clutches Martin Prime’s hand like a lifeline. “I-I always just assumed…”

Martin shakes his head slightly. “From what I could feel, she was—there were some regrets, but I don’t think actually dying upset her all that much, and I think that kind of surprised her.” He sighs. “Not that I was doing all that great. A-and then it all stopped, and I just…I’m pretty sure I was crying before all that, but I hadn’t noticed. Elias told me that ‘knowledge can be dangerous’, and then said I should be careful about who I shared the knowledge he’d just given me with.”

Tim tenses, but Martin Prime just sighs. “In other words, he thought your first instinct would be to tell Daisy he killed Gertrude. Only there’s no proof for that, so she would have assumed you were covering up for Jon.”

“She said they know I didn’t do it,” Jon murmurs. “They got the CCTV footage cleaned up…”

“Then she’d have blamed me,” Martin says softly. “Not that I would have told her anyway. I’m not stupid. But—”

“But he knew that,” Sasha completes. “I bet he was trying to convince you to tell her. Put the idea in your head. Maybe he thought you’d do it to prove him wrong…”

“And then either you or Jon would get arrested,” Tim says harshly. “Or worse.”

“Probably worse,” Martin Prime agrees. “He—” He suddenly freezes, his spine stiffening. “Oh.”

“Oh? What ‘oh’? I don’t like that ‘oh.’” Tension creeps into Tim’s voice.

“Tim, have you—looked at anyone on the team?”

“L—wh—no,” Tim sputters. “You mean with my—? No! I promised I wouldn’t—a-and that’s, that’s invasive, I don’t—why would I do that?”

“Because I’m wondering how many marks you all have. Separately and individually.” Martin Prime takes a deep breath. “If Jonah knows your Martin is developing powers…”

“No,” Jon Prime breathes. “No, he—he wouldn’t, it won’t—it wouldn’t work that way.” He pauses. “Would it?”

“If they’re all reading statements? Why wouldn’t it?”

Martin feels the other three draw closer to him, all of them managing to huddle in a group together. It’s Jon who finally asks, his voice full of trepidation, “Why wouldn’t what work?”

Dread runs down Martin’s spine as Martin Prime seems to meet each of their eyes, despite his blindness. “If you all have roughly the same number of marks, and you’re all developing powers from the Eye…Jonah might be considering whether or not he has to actually use your Jon for his ritual. Or if he could use one of you instead.”

[athina-blaine]

hey kids wanna see a fic preview??

(howdy! for readers of my tma fics wondering what the heck ive been up to the last month, here’s a little something for you-- yes, you! the full chapter will be posted next week)

(preview under the cut!)

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, there was a man who wanted to save the world, and instead, nearly destroyed it. 

Before he was forced to commit this great evil, the man fled-- but the failed ritual inflicted him with a terrible curse, and he concealed himself inside a dark, lonesome manor. As the years passed and the solitude ate him, he never ventured to the outside world, ever again.

But that was alright. The man preferred it this way. For there remained not one person, living or dead, who was better off for having known Jonathan Sims.

-

"Aren't you lonely, Mister Blackwood?"

THE MONSTER OF MAGNUS MANOR

CHAPTER 1

THE FOG

“Blackwood.”

Martin lurched upright, unfinished letter sticking to his sweaty face. Mister Griffiths was standing in the doorway, his scowl deepening by the second as Martin scrambled out of the desk chair and onto his feet.

“If you’re finished with your nap,” Griffiths snapped, “make your way down to the kitchens at once. Lord Barclay’s guests will be arriving soon.”

“Of course, sir. Sorry, sir.”

With one last, withering look, Griffiths turned on his heel out of the servants’ quarters, and Martin’s shoulders lost some of their tension. He wasn’t sure if he should be relieved, or find a good rock to curl under.

At least he’d only been glared at this time.

Martin sunk back into his chair, eyelids threatening to slip shut again. Hard wicker had no right being as comfortable as it was. In all fairness, though, the cold stone floor of the refrigerator would be just as soft right now.

Peeling the letter off his cheek, he flipped it over and groaned. Oh, perfect. He’d gone and completely smudged the thing. Half his face was probably covered in a splotch of ink.

No wonder Griffiths had looked at him like he was dog shite underneath his shoe. At least the dog shite wasn’t going to be late to its shift, now.

He huffed.

At least he’d snuck in a few winks before he needed to get ready. Something was always better than nothing– even if the thick, pulsing needle driving itself through his temples disagreed. Hopefully, it would be enough to get him through today’s shift.

Especially today’s shift.

He tucked the letter underneath his pillow; he’d have to rewrite it later if he wanted it ready to send out tomorrow morning. 

A new uniform was waiting for him in the communal wardrobe, one that Lord Barclay had ordered just for the occasion. His dormmates must have already grabbed theirs– aside from his, the wardrobe was empty.

Bit annoying that they hadn’t even taken the time to give him a quick tap on the shoulder. ‘Hey, Martin, rise and shine, big day today, don’t want to be late!’

Perhaps they’d figured it was best for him to sleep as much as possible. This wasn’t  the day to get sloppy, after all.

Or maybe they hadn’t considered him at all.

He hoped it was the first one.

Uniform slung over his arm, Martin hurried toward the servants’ washroom. He was making good time; with any luck, Griffiths’ scowl would never graduate higher than mildly disappointed. On the scale of the head butler’s ranking displeasure, it wasn’t the worst place to be.

In his haste, however, he bumped into the shoulder of another server. Martin turned, an apology already on his lips, then paused.

“Charles?”

Charles spun around, and his eyes brightened.

“Look who decided to make their way out of bed,” he said, giving Martin’s shoulder a playful pat. “You know Jefferies is going to have your hide if he sees you like that, yeah?”

“Please don’t tell him. He’ll kill me this time, he really will.” His eyes flitted down Charles' figure, brows shooting up. “You … you’re wearing the new uniform.”

“I am, indeed. How do I look?” Charles asked, smoothing down the front of his chest. “Fetching, right?”

“I-I, uh, you …”

It was hard to get the words out. Anyone would look good in a uniform like that; that was why Lord Barclay had bought the bloody things. But the dark red jacket, white gloves, and navy tie complemented Charles’ ginger hair and smile in a way that tangled his tongue something fierce.

Martin’s face warmed, and he hoped it wasn’t obvious.

“You look wonderful,” he said. Then, face growing even hotter, “I mean, um,” he coughed, “it looks really good.”

Charles’ grin widened, and Martin had to stop himself from slapping his own face. Get it together. There was something more pressing here.

“But you’re going to start serving? Today? You’ve barely even finished your apprenticeship.”

“Griffiths needs all hands on deck. I’ll be fine. You’re such a worrywart, you know that?”

Of course Martin was worried. Charles had only been working in the castle for a few months, and Griffiths was going to have him start now? On the night of Lord Barclay’s autumn soirée?

Martin was about to remind him of that when a wave of dizziness crested over him, weakness shivering up his legs. He would have tipped over if Charles hadn’t grabbed his shoulder.

“Whoa, hey, are you okay? You’re looking a little …”

If Martin’s face was hot before, it was nothing compared to now.  “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Again?” 

“I’ll be fine once I’ve had a wash up.”

Charles’ eyes lingered on him so long that Martin was sure he’d well and truly pass out. After a moment, Charles gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and withdrew.

“You’d best. Well, I need to be off. Ol’ Griffiths is on the warpath. Good luck tonight, yeah?” He winked. “Drinks on me at the pub later.”

“Y-yeah. See you.”

Martin tracked him until Charles left the room, eyes drifting on the corner where he’d disappeared until another dizzy spell swept over him.

Focus. Charles hadn’t been kidding about what Jefferies would do if he knew Martin still hadn’t changed yet.

The reminder had Martin rushing through his wash. Throwing the new uniform on was a struggle; all those foreign buttons and straps kept tangling together, and he got stuck twice before securing the last tie. 

Martin paused in front of the mirror to check himself over. It was... nice enough, he supposed. The most expensive thing he’d ever worn, that was certain. Despite the custom fit, though, the torso still hugged too tight around his chest, and the material scratched at the sensitive skin on his neck.

Luckily, he’d only have to wear it tonight.

With one last glance, he smoothed down his hair and hurried out into the main hallway.

Chaos. The corridors were packed wall to wall with other servants, confused about where they should go, what they should be doing. The crowd smothered him; how had he managed to sleep through this? Now, in the thick of things, his ears were beginning to ring.

“Martin!”

Pausing, Martin scanned the sea of twisting faces. Angelica was elbowing her way through the swarm, drawing sharp cries of pain from her victims, but her expression of dogged determination didn’t change.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” she said, as soon as she was within earshot. “I just wanted to say thanks for setting up the guest bedrooms last night. I would’ve been up ‘til dawn if I’d had to do it myself.”

Martin, who had finished outfitting the last of the guest quarters just as the sun was rising, smiled. “I’m glad I could help. Wasn't really fair to you, getting assigned something you aren't used to.”

She nodded in agreement, sage-like. “I swear, Griffiths is out to get me. I’d rather stay in the laundry room where I belong.” Then she reached into the pocket of her apron, pulling out a bundle of cloth. “We had apple slices for breakfast this morning,” she explained, holding the bundle out. “I saved you mine. You know, as a thank you.”

Woken by the mention of food, his stomach spasmed. He hadn’t even spared a thought for breakfast– based on the sun’s height, the servants’ meal hour had long been over. 

Eyes burning, he accepted the gift. “Thanks, Angie. I really needed this.”

She beamed up at him.

From somewhere within the clamour, an authoritative voice rose up. “Come on then, to your stations!”

The tide of the crowd was pushing them apart before the last word faded. “Good luck, tonight!” Angie called as she turned to follow some of the others into the laundry room. Martin waved back to her, and once she had disappeared from view, unwrapped the cloth and bit into one of the apple slices.

Sweet and refreshing. Martin let his eyes slide shut, savouring the crispness. Thank God for Angie. There was no telling when his next meal would be; Griffiths had informed everyone last night that they wouldn't have time for their regular lunch. 

He finished the last slice just as he reached the kitchens. If the hallways had been chaotic, this was a scene straight out of a nightmare. Servers were shouting orders to the kitchen staff, the kitchen staff were dancing around the servers, and everyone inched a hair's breadth away from colliding into one another. It was only through sheer level of experience on the part of the servants that they managed to avoid absolute disaster.

And in the centre of it all was Jefferies, shouting directions and helpful threats in equal measure.

“If a single one of you even so much as serves a smudged glass,” he roared, “the Lord’ll have all our heads!”

The ringing in Martin’s ears had gone from loud to stringent. Bracing against a countertop, he dragged a hand across his face.

Focus.

Plate the food, take it to the dining hall, serve. He’d done it a thousand times. This was the exact same thing.

He just needed to stay focused.

“Here, Blackwood.” One of the servers pressed a tray of champagne flutes into his hands. Taking one more bracing breath, Martin shouldered his way back into the corridors.

Time to get this over with. The frantic noises from the kitchen fell away in increments until, at last, he reached the ballroom.