#i guess its again just that tma meant a lot to me

[autismprotocol]

TMAG Theory Board Update (EP 11-12)

Hi guys sorry about the late posting I've just started a new quarter of college and its been pretty hectic. also got into my school design BFA program so pretty stoked about that! Anyways lets get into the Episode Breakdowns because even though not a lot of lore related things happened I still have a lot to talk about

For the breakdown I'll separate each by episode in sequential order

What Happened in Episode 11: Marked

Celias Rude Awakening- we jump right into the weirdness straight away with Celia waking up on the side of the interstate. she indicates that this is not a weird occurrence and ends the scene by telling someone named Jack that she's "on her way." If you remember episode 8 after Celia and Sam talk to Gerry and Gertrude, she mentions stuff about wanting help with her own mystery. When Sam asks about it she says she's looking into Time travel, other dimentions and teleportation. Many people have theorized that maybe Celia is just a super heavy sleepwalker, but I think the she teleports random places out of nowhere. This could be a side effect of her reality hopping if this Celia is originally from The archives universe.

As for the identity of Jack I'm not quite sure about that yet. I cross referenced the name Jack with past episodes of TMA. The only thing that came up was Jack Barnabas from the statement about dating Agnes Montague (aka an avatar of the desolation and Jesus-like figure for the cult of the lightless flame) So Unless Celia is secretly Agnes of Agnes reincarnated , I can't find any way to link Barnabas to Celia. (if anyone has a theory feel free to send it my way.)

Sam Lore- this one is pretty minor story-wise but I thought it was interesting. Before the statement for the episode is presented we get some classic Sam and Alice Banter ™ most of it is pretty lighthearted but I noticed Sam mention something that could indicate he might be an amputee.

These could not mean anything and I find it weird that it hasn't been mentioned until now but thought it was kind of cool and I will probably be drawing sam with a prothetic leg in the future cause I really like this head-canon. It also begs to question if he is missing a leg. it might have anything to do with his past as a Magnus institute test subject but then again could just be a fun character detail added by Jonny and/or Alex .

The Statement- Getting into the statement we get another Ink5oul appearance. Also possible Ink5oul identifying as she/they. (and lets be honest being a fear avatar is pretty non binary core). I found this Episode gave me a feeling of a hybrid between the Vast, Buried and the Flesh some people are theorizing that is might be a new entity called the Deep but I think that the fear of the ocean could easily apply to the vast or buried. Not much to say about this story though pretty standard Magnus horror that also gave us a hint to what Ink5oul's goal could be/which entity they serve.

Post Bonzo- Gwen has a debrief with Lena after her first Externals Liason assignment and her meeting with Mr. Bonzo. Undoubtedly Gwen is still pretty shaken from her encounter, even arriving late to work due to sleeplessness. Gwen is able to ask Lena a few questions mainly she wanted to know who's name was written on the letter given to Bonzo

Lena is largely unhelpful but tells Gwen she should have worked it out by now and if not to pay close attention to the case load for the next couple of days. before the latest episode my guess was Klaus because that is the only person mentioned so far that the OIAR intends to kill. but more on that later

Marked- Now were getting to my favorite thing about this episode. This episode title can have two meanings. The first is the more literal interpretation. Tattoos are marking of the body and the case this episode was all about tattoos so easily a good name would be marked. But I believe this is a red herring meant to misguide listeners who have not consumed all 200 episodes of TMA because if you know the world of Magnus Archives the term Marked takes on a entirely different meaning.

In TMA the term marked is used to indicate that somebody has been influenced by one or more or the fears and are one their way to becoming an Avatar. I think this could be a coded way to tell the audience someone in the OIAR has been marked. I have two potential candidates

Alice Dyer- Alice has been having dreams about the Institute after her and Sam's adventure into the ruins. also she mentions feeling like someone's watching her (common to people influenced or fed upon by the Ceaseless Watcher/The Eye) My guess if she is marked it would be by the Eye.

Gwendolyn Bouchard: Probably the most likely culprit. The main way an entitly tends to mark people is through encounters with other avatars. Gwen has just had an encounter with Mr Bonzo last episode who I strongly believe must be an avatar of some sort.

What Happened in Episode 12: Getting Off

Aww Sam!!- Sam asked Celia out and it was adorably awkward. not much to say I just loved this interaction and I'm longing for a new Magnus brand office romance hopefully is wont be an agonizing slowburn that ends tragically like a certain pair of morons from Archives (I love you Jon and Martin but Jesus christ)

It's Bonzo time bitches!!- Probably one of the most gruesome Magnus statement I've ever listened to (good work Alex) Mr Bonzo completely annihilated some poor dude at his bachelor party. Based on the date of the Incident the I can confidently say that whoever Baz (the groom) was he was our mystery person the OIAR sent Mr Bonzo to get rid of. Along with some of the bloodiest imagery we learned a few things about Bonzo. The most interesting detail is that Bonzo has to be summoned by playing his theme song I think the CD of his theme song acts somewhat like the tapes did in TMA by materialising out of nowhere. Also fun fact you know that torn seam that is right down Bonzo's middle? that is actually is his mouth lined with rows sharp teeth so I guess I know that now (so fun) Moral of the story dont f*ck with Mr. Bonzo

Alice knows something: Theres been this recurring audio glitch throughout TMAGP thatnks to a few extremly observent fans we have started to relize that these glitches are not at all random and are actually letting the audience know when a character is lying (i actually reposted somones deepdive into all the istances of this glitch so far if you guys are intrested in knowing more) why i bring this up now is becuase since we know when any charater is lying we also know when they are being truthful if there is no glitch when they say somthing and at the end of this episode this interaction occurs

Alice goes ahead and makes a joke about this to annoy Gwen but the fact theres no audio glitch when she says "I know" means she does actually know who is behind the OIAR and is activly refusing to share it with Gwen or the others. What do you know Alice!?

and that's about it im already loving these next batch of episodes and am so excited to learn more (ERROR has to show up somtime )

thanks to everyone who resonded the poll on the last update I will continue to include drawings into the breakdown even if it takes me a little bit of time to post. anyways I wrote this all in one sitting and I'm about ready to pass out so thanks again and the ask box and comments are always open for discussion and theory crafting.

-Echo

[panderbearwolf]

TMA/TMAP Orignal VS Somewhere else

OK, So….

I’m new here. Take anything and everything I say here with a MASSIVE PILE of salt.

I don’t think that TMAGP takes place in an alternate universe. I think this is the world they left behind, and the fears are making their way back in for some reason.

Now, I know that this is not what most people expect. A lot of what I’ve seen is people thinking this is “somewhere else”, that Jon and Martin made it somewhere else in this sort of monkey’s paw sort of way.

But I don’t think so. I think this is the TMA universe. And the fears are coming back in. That’s why all the artifacts were coming back in from Hilltop.  I think Jon and Martin and the extra got caught in the web and dragged into the last semblance of the fears that stayed behind—the web, because it connects everything and wasn’t going to wholly leave its home world because it knows that it’s home is useful and filled with a source of fear—so it left itself a way back in. We know that Annabelle is not wholly trustworthy from Jon’s last statement in TMA 200.

I think that as the fears come back, Jon starts to get more power again, as well. This is why he’s now reaching out to people via e-mail. He’s also probably trying to stop Fear-pocalypse 2, no fun for anyone. Because if the fears are coming back so quickly after leaving, there’s something else driving them back. And they’ll want to feed again.

It would also explain why the ruins of the Magnus Institute exist in this world. Why would a world that never had to deal with  the 14  15 cosmic soup of the fears have a ruined Magnus institute? While the fears are a universal thing—or so it seems from how they left in TMA—the specific landmarks and people who are coming through make me think that there wasn’t a somewhere else for Jon and Martin to land.

Now I do understand why people think that this has to be somewhere else. The world of TMA should have been in ruins after the fears took over. And I agree, you’d think. But at the very, very end of TMA we do get Georgie and Basira talking. And it seems like the world just ‘snapped’ back to normal and it seems like everyone is pretending it was just a mass hallucination that everyone suffered. (I don’t want to imagine the generational PTSD, though. Yikes.) It seems like this is the TMA world, a few years down the line after everything righted itself.

That’s why Celia is there. I’ve seen a lot of people saying that she must have made the jump with Martin and Jon, but I don’t see how. (If you have an idea, please, please PLEASE tell me. I would LOVE to be wrong here.) She wasn’t an avatar. She wasn’t even an acolyte outside of being a victim herself. I guess I could see that since she lost her identity that she sort of qualified as a emissary of the stranger, but she’s the only one we’ve met thus far who is might be. And if I’m right, there should be a TON of people who are. Although, I guess people probably wouldn’t talk about their experiences in the fear-world. So maybe I’m wrong. I don’t know.

Anyway, I wanted to ask about something I hadn’t seen many people talking about from TMAP 7: The fact that a ‘security’ force burned down Hilltop Road Consignment shop. It almost seems like the security force knew what was going on, what it meant and why it needed to be stopped. Almost like it was a splinter cell of the original Magnus Institute that recognized what the hell was going on and was trying to stop it. I haven’t seen anyone geeking out about this part as much—mostly because OMG THERE’S SO MUCH to be excited about and theorizing about—but I was hoping someone else thought the same?

I was kind of wondering if there are any descendants from those who survived the TMA series—Basira/Georgie/Melanie—who may have started a watch-group or something because they knew the fears could return.

Anyway.

Happy “I’m losing my goddamned mind” day. I look forward to next Thursday where we somehow find a scrap of sanity left to lose it when TMAP 8 rolls out.

[famdommcfanface]

An analysis of alcemy for the Magnus Protocol!

I have just finished the episode I have found a list of alchemical symbols let's fucking gooo baby. Just to clarify it is my belief these are the new entities. I know it would probably be better if they were less rigidly defined but I love sorting things and am hyped!!! This is going to be long so strap in (not all of those though they're just to illustrate)! I am so sorry if you use dark mode (like me!) these images are almost all transparent.

1: Mercury!

Referring to both the metal and the planet, go wild. Mercury is all about transcending boundaries as it's kind of both a solid and a liquid (it's not but whatever), specifically the boundary of life and death, possibly even transcend death. That seems relevant. Also related to snakes so if snakes show up... probably mercury. Also if we ever get some sort of white queen in a chess way? Mercury. It also represents the mind, or spirit maybe? It's got a lot going on. Colin said it'd make the world end. Fuck yeah probably why not.

2: Salt

This is one that is not included on one list I have but is on the other. I'm not guaranteeing all of these are significant I'm finding it hard to find a definite list. If you look into just all the alchemical symbols they've got loads and I doubt they're all significant. Anyway. Salt is the physical body in this trifecta (we'll come onto that). Very to do with physicality, the body, honestly might manifest in a few ways similar to the Flesh. Also to do with purification? In general but also 'purifying' the body which I think medieval people meant in a good way but sounds evil to me. There is also of course, seperate to the whole alchemy thing, salt circles and all that. You've seen supernatural you know what I'm talking about. Although that's also to do with purification.

3: Sulphur

Or sulfur, if you are American. This one's actually got a few different symbols but let's go with this one for now. Honestly, and I know we shouldn't be comparing these to the TMA entities, but this one's pretty desolation. It's all dry heat and masculine destructive energy. Yeah this one's 'masculine' and mercury's 'feminine' for some reason, I doubt that will come up. Which I guess makes salt non-binary. This is the red king, too. This is the soul in the 'tria prima', Mercury, salt and sulphur, which were the three first elements apparently, and also cause disease? Idk. That might be relevant. Hell's meant to smell of sulphur, that tells you most of what you need to know. Again, we've all seen Supernatural. Colin said something about this making you go mad. I think yeah sure but less spiral-type mad more slaughter-type mad.

4: Air

Right, onto the four basic elements. These all have a humour related to them too and air has blood for some reason. Air is life and light and God and passion and all that good shit. I have to imagine it's gonna have some vast shit going on too because I don't think Jonny can help himself, but it's also to do with being changable and generally quite nice. Oh also ideas and creativity. All that good shit!

5: Earth

Basically the opposite of air. The 'masculine counterpart' as all these websites keep saying. It's associated with salt, which makes sense, and is all about stillness and being grounded and again, I feel like there's going to be some buried attributes in there. It's got the humour black bile which is all about sadness and shit. Most of the four basic elements are fairly self-explanatory.

6: Fire

You know what fire does. Passion, emotion, love and hate and all that. Although honestly in an alchemical way fire seems to be more emotional. So far (and I am writing these as I look into them) if you want something based around physical destruction you're gonna wanna look at sulphur. Its humour is yellow bile.

7: Water

Water, humour is phlegm, connected to mercury, honestly alchemically I can't find anyone having much to say about it but y'know. It's water. BUT I HAVE THINGS TO SAY ABOUT WATER. Okay so this has gotta be the deep, right? The whole mix of the buried and the vast thing with the sea? That killed the girl Alice saw? Or at least was involved with the death. It's all very water.

8: Lead

Right, onto planetary metals! Which Mercury kind of also was but hey ho. So, Lead is associated with Saturn. So, alchemists believed that lead was the base metal, that all other metals were just lead that had turned into something else. Which means it's really important but also kinda sucks, and is why people kept trying to make it into gold. So lead is also to do with change but also kind of purity as they thought it 'purified' into gold. Also associated with the Roman god Saturn/Greek god Chronos, who are both to do with time so that might be involved.

9: Tin

To do with the planet Jupiter. It seems to be connected to wisdom and maturity and education and all that. BUT ALSO. It is connected to Lady Mowbray, hell yeah. Because I watched a video about the arg and noted that on the back of Lady M's assistant's clipboard or whatever is this symbol which I recognised at the time as Jupiter! Now. What does tin have to do with dogs and eating people. As far as I can tell fuck all. I thought I'd misremembered for a moment and it was actually the Saturn symbol because that would work with cannibalism at least but no Lady Mowbray seems to serve... tin. Which is kind of funny. I get the connection to nobility at least, Jupiter is king of the gods after all, but as far as I know he doesn't hunt people with dogs? Idk.

10: Iron

Related to Mars and, as I'm sure you can tell, men. Because these fuckers loved gender. Similar to fire it's all about anger and passion, but also seeing as Mars is the god of war I don't think it's beyond belief we've got something similar to the slaughter on our hands here.

11: Gold

Connected to the sun and therefore does not have a classical god I can interpret. Damn. Maybe Apollo? Gold is about having gay lovers. No. So gold's big thing is that it doesn't corrode. Something about staying as you are, the opposite of Air's changability, sort of similar to earth... I could make something out of this.

12: Copper

Well hello ladies. Copper actually has a cooler symbol but I suspect we're sticking with these. Connected to Venus, obviously, which is all about attractiveness and desirability because copper is a very pretty metal. Personally, I would say episode 2 is to do with copper. I don't know if ink5oul themself is (I think they might sort of span entities) but what's her name from the episode and her obsession with looking good seems very copper to me. I know I'm not sorting all these episodes (yet! I have to relisten first) but this one jumped out at me. Copper is also to do with love, of course. I feel like one reason maybe the desire theory got so big is a lot of alchemical elements are to do with love and desire, so that just sort of bled through?

13: Silver

That's right, it's the moon! Very to do with mystery and weird shit. I think if you get the non-literal elements of The Dark you've got Silver. Also keeps away evil, again, Supernatural. Although it also has to do with tides so I think there is a very small chance that actually this is the Deep? I doubt it though.

14: Antimony

So I wasn't going to do the mundane elements because they're less likely to be important (you'll see) but some of them are really interesting! I might not do them all. Anyway, antimony is about the wild and animalistic side of human nature, and is to do with wolves. That remind you of anyone? A certain... aristocratic milf? I know she's connected to tin but it should be antimony okay??

15: Arsenic

Arsenic is cool, we all know it. It's my mum's favourite element on the periodic table. Anyway. Swans? It's to do with swans. Apparently it transforms its appearance like a cygnet to a swan. It also fucking kills people which I'm not convinced the alchmists were aware of.

16: Bismuth

Nobody knows what they were doing with bismuth. RIP. Also, I don't know my astronomy but that is taurus. Does that mean anything? I looked into the metal; it's quite pretty and people get it mixed up with tin.

17: Magnesium

Oh boy. It's hard to extinguish once it's lit, so it represents eternity! That's gotta be something babyy! Some combination of the end and the vast and all that.

18: Phosphorus

They thought phosphorus trapped light. I know it's easy to say this from a modern perspective but alchemists were fucking dumb. I feel like I could disprove this. But they were the first scientists so we have to be nice to them I guess...

19: Platinum

Supposedly a combination of gold and silver, hence the symbol. Possibly something about being bound to something... idk.

20: Potassium

Or potash. Didn't seem to have much historical context. But I believe it has very important modern context.

21: Zinc

They burned zinc to get what they called 'white snow'. You fucking idiots snow is already white.

That's it! Honourable mention to horse dung, which is a more obscure element but gets its own symbol and everything.

also soap and urine and all sorts of shit so I think we should stop there. What have we learnt? Possibly nothing! One of these has got to be to do with plants - I assume earth? That would make sense. One's something to do with luck from the sounds of things and I have no idea what that is, hopefully someone knows more about alchemy than I do for that. There's definitely some sort of watcher and I think either that's the eye crossed into this dimension or possibly mercury? I don't think the names are going to be these because honestly imagine Lady Mowbray being like hey I serve Tin. She's probably going to say Jupiter but we all have to know in our heart of hearts. It's just fucking tin. I am very tired I am going to bed.

[m3rkur3]

i think this article has a lot of important things to say but does a bad job of saying them

I think something I find very weird about this article is the fact that its titled the way it is. like why is AJN in the title? It’s clickbaity and a little unprofessional. And I don’t even disagree with 99% of what it’s saying, the likelihood that 90% of the story is true is quite high. However, there are so few sources that can actually be traced back. There’s some very unneeded speculation. Alexander J Newall being targeted only in the title with nothing in the article really blaming him for anything is just weird. he's the ceo, yes, but you have placed your (named) blame within the article almost entirely on this one callum dougherty.

The fact that it was retweeted by a former TMA voice actor is pretty compelling. And the fact that former people who worked with Rusty Quill whether as volunteers or staff can attest to their poor communication. And bad practices in general. I mean I pretty much do believe a lot of it. Just I find the lack of concrete evidence within the article and the lack of good journalistic practice to detract a lot from the message of the article.

Also names of characters in TMA as pseudonyms feels very unserious. When I reached the bit that was talking about Georgie and Melanie I was like come on please be for real. like this is serious business😭. also I’m seeing the author does a freelancing work with another podcasting company and it’s been argued that they were only freelancing so it’s not that big of a deal. But I don’t know I don’t like that.

Either way the people we really need to think about other people affected by rqs bad practices. I think it really is just incompetence. But they could really really really do better. Also the fact of the author is blocking anyone with any criticism on Twitter??? I don’t think that proves anything other than that they do not know how to make their article look good. That coupled with the weird journalistic choices and the caption they put on their Twitter ("make your statement face your fear" LMFAO?! how unnecessary! again, be serious!) it really does make them look less credible even though in reality the article has legs.

at the end of the day i think it just needed more time. i get the point of releasing this as soon as possible to give fans much needed info on what their fav company is doing in the midst of their kickstarter (lmfao idk i find that quite funny) just… it wasn't done very well or with much thought as to how to actually deal with people who disagree. and by “well” i mean you cannot release an article full of unverifiable info with your (admittedly not TOO damning) background and not one first hand verifiable quote and expect no “hmmm…”s. cuz the author is out here blocking people lmfao. not for disagreeing with the points in the article but for saying “hey i'm not sure you have put much thought into how you wrote this!”

i also think it's very annoying the way people are in the comments of podcasters working under rusty quill talking about the article saying "but u can't say other people didn't experience this!!!' they're not saying that brother. they're responding directly to the “podcasters under rq won't say anything bc theyre not allowed!!!!!” portion of it which i would respond to, too, like don't be silly. like fuck u niggas no one can fucking gag me dont say that😭. again again again… i am very very VERY inclined to believe almost everything in said article. i just find its release into the world and its writing to be a little… subpar. better than nothing i guess. tho is it? people have literally been saying everything here about rq for a while. save the suing and contract stuff i think and even then, you cannot bring up something as serious as SUING and not elaborate lmao! good concept bad execution imo. anywaysssss

I don’t know I just feel like it’s a little bit juvenile for what it’s meant to be and what I think it’s meant to be is an important expose which actually says important things but does it weakly.

TLDR; this article has a lot of important things to say about rusty quill's bad practices but it does it in ways that are very unprofessional. Speculation and the clickbaity title and the lack of concrete sources and twitter caption and the author whose freelance work may or may not be relevant to disclose in an article about their ex-clients competition and the substitution of anonymous names with characters from the Magnus archives. They all paint a picture of a very inexperienced writer whose work amounts mostly to an opinion piece. However I am inclined to believe the allegations made in said article for the reason that there have been a lot of people who previously worked with rusty quill saying the same thing. or mostly the same thing. I just think this article uncovered very little new information and something about it seems mean-spirited, almost as if it was for something that isn’t just the betterment of the affected peoples conditions. But that’s just speculation 😛and honestly just my feelings, not backed up by anything. For me this is more an exercise in analysing an article in general than it is analysing the situation at hand. I’m a writer at heart I’m sorry

[ollieofthebeholder]

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

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 36: December 2016

Martin was halfway down the steps to the Archives when a chill ran up his spine, and he paused for a moment, prodding at the sense of dread that came over him. Something was down there, something he didn’t want to meet, and he was torn between the urge to flee in the other direction and the urge to charge in, metaphorical guns blazing, and protect his friends.

Since his lunch break was technically over, he forced himself to head down.

Everything seemed normal when he walked in, anyway. The room was empty except for Sasha, who was just closing her laptop with a sigh. She looked up and offered Martin a smile when she saw him. “Hey. Weather still good?”

“Clear and cold,” Martin confirmed. “Is…everything okay down here?”

“All clear. Tim left for lunch a bit late—he’s only been gone about fifteen minutes.” Sasha hesitated, then gestured at Jon’s office. “That detective came round looking for you. She’s been in there with Jon for a bit.”

“Shit.” Martin’s heart began knocking against the inside of his chest. That detective could only mean Detective Tonner, which at least explained the sense of dread he was feeling. The presence of the Hunt rarely meant anything good for the likes of them, and that she’d been looking for him specifically even less so.

On the other hand, it wasn’t the Hunt’s way to so openly declare its prey; most of the time it worked in subtler ways. It was the thrill of the chase that was important. No way would she make catching him so easy.

It occurred to him, all of a sudden, that she might not be after him, that she might just be using him as an excuse to go after one of the others—to go after Jon—and his panic increased.

It must not have shown on his face, though, because Sasha simply stood up and wrapped her scarf around her throat. “Right, I’m off to lunch. Best go see what they want with you. See you later, assuming you don’t get arrested.”

She fluttered her fingers and left with a spring in her step, obviously considering the joke a funny one. Martin would have, too, were it not for the fact that he knew that would not be Detective Tonner’s goal. With him or Jon. Ever since the Twisting Deceit had taken Helen Richardson—right out from under Jon’s nose, while Martin sat in the other room feeling drained and useless—and then stabbed Jon in the side before vanishing in the span of time it took Martin to respond to his agonized cry, he’d been living in dread of another attack, and he didn’t know what he’d do if one happened while he wasn’t there to protect Jon again.

He took a deep breath to calm himself, failed to do so entirely, and headed over to Jon’s office.

At the door, he hesitated. Politeness dictated that he knock, but the last time he had while Jon was recording, he’d startled him so badly that he’d nearly leaped through the ceiling. Later that night, over Indian takeaway shared after another exploration of the tunnels, Jon had confessed that he never really liked when people knocked on his door, but he especially hated it when he was immersed in a statement. And whether Detective Tonner was giving him an actual statement or not, she was tied enough to the Hunt that Jon would likely be affected by it. Besides, if she was doing something to hurt him, he wanted to catch her at it rather than give her enough warning that she could stop.

He pushed the door open. Jon looked ashen, drained; Detective Tonner looked angry. Sitting on the table between them was a tape recorder, which was running. It didn’t take a lot of imagination to guess what had happened.

“Martin,” Jon managed, sounding surprised and relieved and apprehensive all at once, which was something only Jon could pull off.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Martin lied. “Um, Sasha said—she said you were looking for me, so I thought…” He trailed off. Likely Detective Tonner would see right through his lie, but at least it would get her attention off Jon.

She stood, rather abruptly, reached into her pocket, and tossed something onto the table. A tape, labeled in the now-familiar handwriting. “Take it,” she growled.

Martin flinched, at the tone of her voice more than anything, which made him want to start running even though he knew it would just mean she would chase him. He stared at the tape, a bit confused as to why Detective Tonner was bringing it and why she would present it in front of Jon, unless…“W-what—”

“I wasn’t going to,” Detective Tonner interrupted, pinning Martin with a glare. She was tall, although not quite as tall as Martin, but she exuded an air of menace that left him in no doubt she could easily heft him by the throat if the mood struck her. “There’s no point in it, really, and I told Basira so. But she’s soft.” She barked out a laugh that sounded as much derisive as amused. “She likes you, for some reason. So, there. Take it.”

“Um.” Martin hesitantly picked up the tape. It was, as usual, labeled with Gertrude’s pointlessly awkward file number and a cryptic title that probably only made sense to her: First Edition. The handwriting was definitely Gertrude’s, so unless Basira had recorded over it, it wasn’t like it contained a hidden message or anything. “W-why—why do you say there’s no point? I don’t—this is only the third tape, and…i-if there’s a pattern, I haven’t figured it out yet.” He slid a glance over at Jon, remembering that he wasn’t supposed to have told anyone. “Um, sorry, Jon. Basira’s—been bringing me some of the tapes they found with Gertrude.”

“Why?” Jon asked, playing the part even though he knew full well.

Before Martin could answer, though, Detective Tonner huffed. “She thought you’d done it.”

“What?” Jon and Martin said in unison.

Detective Tonner didn’t look particularly apologetic. “We both did.”

“Me? B-but—but why?” Martin sputtered. He didn’t look like a killer, or at least he didn’t think he did. Sure, Tim sometimes called him that—jokingly—but he didn’t even think he was capable of something like that.

“Look at you,” Detective Tonner said, gesturing at him. “You’re jumpy as hell. Wouldn’t look me in the eye the first time we came to talk to you. And that accomplice of yours that was lurking around in the background—wasn’t hard to figure out who he was, once we connected the address. And from there, it wasn’t hard to find out who took charge of his paperwork, and who picked him up from prison after. Started wondering if the police hadn’t been looking at the wrong person back then, and if that hadn’t given you a taste for it.”

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So yeah, we were looking at you for this. Tried to see if there was anything else we could match you to, because it’s not like you’d have gone seven years between kills.”

Martin tried to digest that. The very thought made him nauseous, almost as much as the idea that she’d been poking into Gerry’s past. Oh, God, had she realized Gerry was supposed to be dead?

“Martin didn’t kill Gertrude Robinson,” Jon said vehemently. “Or anyone else, for that matter. He’d never.”

Detective Tonner snorted. “Yeah, we know. IT finally cleaned up the CCTV footage from that week. We watched your movements the whole time. You never went near the Archives, or Gertrude Robinson. Closest you got to her was her following you, the day she died.”

“What?” Martin jerked his head, startled once again. He was usually good at spotting tails—how had he not noticed?

“Hung about outside the library, just watching you, until you left for the day, then followed you out the door. Came straight back in afterwards and went down to the Archives.” Detective Tonner shrugged. “Only other person who went down there was Bouchard. So unless you’ve got another way in we don’t know about, you’re in the clear.” She gestured at the tapes. “Basira wants to keep bringing you those, fine, that’s on her. I don’t know about it and I don’t want to.” Turning her glare on Jon, she added, “And you—I was never here, got it?”

“Uh, uh—y-yes, of course,” Jon stammered, shrinking back against his chair.

“Good.” Detective Tonner shoved past Martin, slamming the door behind her with a force that made both of them jump.

Instantly, Martin moved closer to Jon’s desk. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you, did she?”

“No.” Jon didn’t sound particularly convinced of that, but he held out his hands, palms up, to prove to Martin he wasn’t physically injured—or so he presumed. “I just…good Lord, she’s terrifying.”

“The Hunt,” Martin said, as if that was an adequate explanation. Maybe it was. He sank into the seat Detective Tonner had vacated and stared at the tape in his hands. “I can’t believe they thought I killed her. Or…”    He trailed off, not wanting to mention names anywhere Elias might be listening.

“I can’t, either.” Jon came over and sat on the edge of his desk, which put him slightly above eye level with Martin, and studied him worriedly. “You don’t think Elias put them up to it, do you?”

“The possibility occurred to me. If he wants me dead, in a way that isn’t traceable back to him, setting a Hunter on me is probably the way to do it,” Martin said absently, still staring at the tape. “But I doubt it. Detective Tonner wouldn’t have told me I was in the clear if she’d ever really pegged me as a serious suspect, and she would’ve made sure I knew she was after me. After all, part of the thrill of the Hunt is the terror that comes from knowing you’re prey.”

“So you’re saying she might not have stuck your feet to the floor, but she would have at least tied your shoelaces together.”

At that, Martin looked up with a smile. “Something like that, yeah.”

Jon smiled back. It made him look more his age. “What’s the file number on that tape?”

“Uh—” Martin looked at the label again. “0080307, why?”

“I’ll see if I can find it on the shelves,” Jon said, sliding off his desk. “You’re, uh, you’re welcome to stay in here if you’d like to listen to it now.”

“O-oh!” Martin was, admittedly, startled. “I, um—I, I thought you might like to, well, listen with me. If it’s another live one like the last one was, there probably won’t be a file on the shelf.” And the first one had taken them almost a week to find, even knowing the file number. Martin was starting to be as annoyed with Gertrude’s disorganization as Jon was.

Jon paused, looking genuinely surprised. “I—really? I…I thought you preferred listening to them on your own before you shared them with us.”

“I’ve only been doing it that way because Basira usually turns up while I’m the only one here,” Martin told him. “And I don’t…I can’t let them sit, there’s too much of a risk of me losing them or forgetting about them.”

“I don’t see how you can,” Jon murmured, eyes dropping to the tape for a moment. “They’re…there’s something about them that draws you in. Draws me in, anyway.”

Martin bit his lip. He ached to tell Jon everything, to pour out the whole story, but he didn’t know how. He also found he didn’t really want to talk about it in the Archives. And worse, he definitely didn’t want Jon to think he was looking for an equivalent exchange—that he would tell Jon his story if Jon would tell him how he got his Marks in return. And the risk of him trying to pull the story out would be too high.

“It’s…kind of a side effect of the way the Spiral marked me,” he said finally. “I’ll tell you about it sometime. But there are instances where I lose things a lot more easily than I should. And I just, I can’t run the risk of these tapes being one of them, so I listen to them as soon as I get them. By then one of you is usually back, so we can listen again…”

“And we watch you put them in your drawer,” Jon completed, a light dawning in his eyes, “so that fixes in your mind that that’s where they are.”

“Exactly.” Martin smiled, relieved Jon got it. “So, what do you say? Want to hear what they think is worth us knowing?”

Jon smiled, too. “Absolutely. Hold on, I’ll go make us some tea.”

Since the main tape recorder was already on the desk, Martin simply popped out the tape that was already in there—doubtless Jon had been recording Detective Tonner’s statement—before placing in the newest tape. He found his hands were shaking slightly and he wasn’t sure why. Something about this one…

“Any ideas what it might be?” Jon’s voice startled Martin from his thoughts, making him jump. He looked up and accepted the mug of tea with a nod of thanks as Jon gestured to the recorder. “The tape, I mean.”

“The label says First Edition, so I’m guessing there’s a Leitner involved,” Martin said, as gently as he could. Jon flinched almost imperceptibly. “If we’re lucky, it’ll be one the three of us already destroyed. If not, we can track it down and burn it together.”

Jon laughed. It sounded a little unwilling. “Just like that?”

“In the six years we were burning them, I mean really actively hunting them down to destroy them, we took out sixty-two books off the known list,” Martin told him. “Plus thirteen more that we just found unlabeled, so yeah, Jon, just like that.”

Jon…relaxed. A tension Martin hadn’t even realized was there bled out of him like someone had pulled the plug in a drain, and he sank onto his desk, both hands curled around his cup. “Thank you.”

Oh. Oh, there was a story there, and Martin was tempted, he wanted to ask, but the possibility of forcing Jon to answer whether he wanted to or not was too strong. To save himself the temptation, he pressed PLAY on the recorder.

It turned out to be a live statement, and the second the person Gertrude was speaking to opened her mouth, Martin’s entire body ran cold. He knew that voice, knew very well how it could go from charming and coaxing to sharp and condemning in an instant. He knew how the eyes could go from guileless and warm to calculated and cold, how the smile could go from innocent to cruel, how the hands could go from fingers to talons and claws. He was suddenly and abruptly twelve years old and the only thing standing between the people he loved and the worst day of their lives.

Subject is Mary Keay, recorded third of July, 2008.

Martin listened, horrified and fascinated and repulsed all at once, to the story he’d long wondered about but never heard—the story of how Gerry’s mother had obtained her Book, the one that had been a threat held over their heads most of his childhood, the one she’d tried to master. The one Gerry had been bound to. His hands clenched the mug so tightly they almost crushed it as Mary’s voice spooled outward, weaving the story, doing her nastily polite little pas de deux with Gertrude.

The click of the tape popping off jerked him abruptly back to the present. His entire body buzzed, and there was a tightness in his chest he wanted to rub away, but he couldn’t seem to unclench his fingers.

“Martin? Martin, are you all right?” Jon’s voice sounded far away, but then his hands were on Martin’s shoulders.

Martin gasped, the mug slipping from his suddenly nerveless fingers. It dropped to the floor and shattered, and he flinched away from it, bracing himself for the blow.

“Leave it. It’s not important.” One of Jon’s hands came up, hesitantly, to cup Martin’s cheek. “Are you—God, I shouldn’t have—talk to me, Martin. Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Martin said, too quickly, hearing the lie as soon as it was past his lips. Instead of looking angry, Jon just looked worried. Martin gave in to the temptation to lean into his palm. “I’m just…I w-wasn’t expecting to hear her. Christ, she still scares me.”

“I can understand that. She sounds terrifying. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to grow up around her.” Jon rubbed his thumb across Martin’s cheek without seeming to realize he was doing it. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

Martin decided to be honest. “No. But I will be.”

“Okay,” Jon said softly, and then with a bit more certainty, “Okay. I…do you have any idea whose page she might have given Gertrude?”

“No. I thought she did them all in Sanskrit.” Martin frowned. “She must have done one special for Gertrude, so it was probably someone she knew. Christ, it was probably one of her assistants.”

Jon blinked, drawing back from Martin. “Gertrude didn’t have any assistants.”

“She had three,” Martin corrected him. “At least that I remember. God, what were their names?”

“We can probably get Sasha to hack the personnel files. She’d enjoy that,” Jon muttered. He drew his hand away—Martin instantly missed the contact, but not enough to make an ass of himself asking for it back—and slid off the desk. “There’s a lot in that I don’t understand…but there’s one thing I do, and that’s the very distinctive floorboard at the end.”

Martin blinked. “Floorboard?”

Jon actually grinned mischievously and walked over to a corner, then tapped a board with his foot. It creaked exactly the way the board had on the tape. “It’s still here. The worms didn’t even touch it…because there’s a hidden compartment underneath.” He knelt down and pressed his fingers into the crack. Sure enough, it levered up easily.

Martin’s own curiosity got the better of him, and he rose to his feet, carefully avoiding the shards of his mug, to see. “What’s in it?”

Jon reached down, a slight frown puckering his brow. “Hmm. No skin page, but…” He came up with two objects—a laptop, and a key. “I wonder what this unlocks?”

“Her house, maybe?”

“Maybe.” Jon studied the laptop. “I’m possibly even more curious as to what’s on this.”

“I bet Sasha can help with that, too. If you ask.” Martin tilted his head to one side as Jon looked up at him. “Or you could see how far you get on your own.”

“I trust Sasha. I think.” Jon replaced the floorboard and stood. “We’ll talk to her when she gets back from lunch. Meanwhile, let me get a cloth to clean up this mess, and then find you another mug. Gertrude’s not the only one who could do with a cup of tea after that.”

[recallback]

So, the end is here. I might not have been here from the start, but the time I have been here has kind of been important. Put a lot into perspective for me, put me on a path I'm happy about, and just being able to say I was here for the very end makes me immensely emotional.

I just kept it simple. Cause while I could have went all out, could have worked for weeks on something, it felt like.... keeping it small means something. Dunno what. But something.

It's been a good run.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Save Me From Tears

I'm fairly certain this was requested by @jeonssimp but I have lost the ask 🤦🏼‍♀️ it 2+19 Jungkook anyway 💜

Christmas last year –

“Hey baby” Jungkook whispers as he wraps his arms around your waist making you jump. You’d been too busy admiring your decorating handiwork. “It looks amazing in here.” He makes you turn with him as he takes in the whole of your living room.

“What are you doing home so early?” you wriggle from his grasp so you can look at him. Admiring how his adorable winter jumper clashed horribly with his red tinged hair, you fail to notice the sad tinge hidden behind his bunny smile.

“Baby listen… I’m really sorry but I have to work this Christmas.” He pulls you to him as you try to supress your sadness. It’s not like he could help it and you knew that going into this relationship.

“Oh… that’s okay, maybe we could do a late Christmas when you get home, or we can celebrate new year or…” he kisses you before breaking even more bad news.

“I’m going to be gone for four weeks, we have tours and shows set up everywhere. Originally, we were supposed to be off for the big holidays but then we were offered a spot in the New York New Years Eve show. I’m so sorry, I know this was supposed to be our first big holiday together.” You meet his big bunny eyes as he pleads for forgiveness and you can’t help but give in. you know he would be there with you if he could.

By the time Christmas comes around you’re all alone in your Seoul apartment. You thought Kookie might call you in the morning, but when he doesn’t you put it down to time zones and go about your day. You try anything to get your mind off of your aching heart. Baking, reading, gaming, but nothing seems to work. Eventually you turn to TV, hoping to find a Christmas movie to help you wallow in your loneliness. Instead, you find a flashing news bulletin about BTS.

Korean golden boys BTS seen out Christmas partying in New York City.

You freeze when you see images appear to accompany the story. Jungkook had a gorgeous blonde hung around his neck as he laughed with the boys. It felt like you might throw up. When he didn’t call you assumed he was asleep, or at least busy with show preparations. Nothing like this ever crossed your mind. You switched off the TV and ran into your bedroom, grabbing the things he’d left behind at your place and shoving them into a bag. You couldn’t stand the sight of anything to do with him.

Here you were feeling sorry for yourself and missing him terribly and he was partying with random American girls he didn’t even know. Eventually he did call you, all you did was hang up. He kept trying and every time you hung up. In a last ditch attempt he sent a text.

‘Baby? Are you okay? I keep calling and getting cut off. Anyway, it’s Christmas morning here and I miss you like crazy. Call me when you can. I love you.’

You scoff at the text, almost chucking your phone across the room. Instead, you send the picture circulating the news of him and the girl and one word.

‘Done.’

You don’t wait for his reply as you block his number.

Late November this year –

You hadn’t seen Jungkook since Christmas. Hadn’t spoken to him since he went through all your social media channels to try to explain himself to you. Nothing he could’ve said would’ve changed your mind at that point, too wound up to even attempt to listen to his pathetic excuses.

That’s why you were so surprised to see him walk into the shop you work in. his hair is longer now, a lot longer. It frames his face nicely. Your fairly certain he hasn’t seen you yet and you panic. Ducking under the counter, you try to crab walk into the cupboard. Unfortunately, you manage to pull a box of Christmas ordering brochures on top of yourself.

“Shit, are you oka…” he trails off when he sees its you. The heat rises to your cheeks as he stares at you in disbelief. “Y/N…” he reaches out a hand to you, you take it reluctantly and he drags you to your feet. You hold on a little too long.

“Jungkook, how are you?” you shake your head to break the eye contact. Seeing him brings back every horrible feeling from last Christmas, as well as every wonderful one you had been trying to forget in an attempt to move on from him. You busy yourself picking up the brochures, hoping he would take the hint and disappear.

“I’ve been shit Y/N-ah” the pain in his voice makes your heart break all over again. “You just cut off all contact, you wouldn’t see me, wouldn’t talk to me, wouldn’t let me explain. It hurt like hell.” You turn on him when he tries to place some of the blame on you.

“LET YOU EXPLAIN!?” several customers heads turn your way as you yell at the boy. You take a deep breath and force yourself to lower your tone. “You know what Jungkook? I am work I don’t want to do this here, or ever… just leave, please.” As you walk away from him, worried tears will spill if you don’t remove yourself from shop floor at that moment, but he grasps your wrist and pulls you back to him.

“Please Y/N it’s been months and I still can’t stop thinking about you and how I hurt you. Have coffee with me, just once and I will go away forever if you still don’t want to me.” You relent, if only just to get him out of your face.

The next day you find yourself sat in a little coffee shop by the Han river, the very one you’d met in. You anxiously peel at the label on your water bottle, deciding it was safer than a hot drink for the conversation you were about to endure. The sound of the bell makes you look up. He saunters in, stunning in skinny jeans and a biker jacket, the new undercut on full display, it’s evident he’s put a lot of thought into how he looks. His face is set in a heavy frown until he sees you, then his bunny smile appears full force. It melts your heart, until you remember why you’re there.

“You came.” He reaches for your hand across the table, but you pull it out of his reach. He looks dejected but excepts your response.

“Hurry up and say whatever it is you want to say.” You refuse to meet his gaze, knowing it’ll be so much harder to keep up your resolve if you looked at him. He sighs but accepts that what he is getting is better than nothing.

“I’m still not 100% sure how paparazzi got that picture of us last Christmas, but that girl was just very handsy ARMY. She meant nothing more to me than any other ARMY members. It broke my heart when you wouldn’t let me explain, even more when I realised what little trust you had in me…”

“You’re blaming this on me?!” you’re practically hissing at him across the table.

“No, I’m not blaming this on you, we should’ve been on better guard, I should’ve been home to call you the minute it was Christmas here, I should’ve flown home the second I knew something was wrong.” He reaches for your hand again; you don’t pull away. “I am asking that you give me another chance.” The two of you spend a long time in the coffee shop, talking over other insecurities in your relationship. You have no idea how you get to this point but the two of you leave hand in hand, full of smiles and fixed promise.

This Christmas –

The holiday season comes around quick. You and Jungkook have been sickeningly happy since you rekindled your relationship a little over a month ago. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the doubts from creeping in as Christmas day kept closer.

“Decorations look great baby.” Jungkook says as he walks through the front door to your apartment. He kisses you on the cheek and takes your hand, spinning you to the beat of the Christmas music you have blasting over the speakers. You’re dizzy by the time he finally lets you go. The two of you collapse onto your sofa together, cuddling in close. Jungkook’s phone buzzes and you watch his brows knit together in concern as he reads the text.

“Everything okay?” you ask mirroring his concern.

“Umm yeah… I’ve just got to call Namjoon, give me two seconds.” He untangles himself from your embrace and heads into the kitchen for some privacy. You’ve already guessed what the phone call is about when he re-enters the living room. You shake your head in disbelief as he bites his lip nervously. “I’m really sorry baby… I have to work again this Christmas…”

“Last Christmas you broke my heart…” he looks close to crying as those words leave your lips. “If you think I’m gonna let you do it again, you’re dead wrong.” You stand and move to meet him by the doorway. “Take me with you.” He looks shocked at the suggestion but considers it for a moment.

“What about your job?”

“Fuck my job.” You wrap your arms around him and tilt your head up to face him. “I can get another job, I can’t get another you.”

Masterlist

Christmas list

[equalseleventhirds]

napping did provide some Clarity and i think.... i think. i liked the THEMES of the tma finale. and i liked the CHARACTER STUFF in the finale. the mutual betrayal, the love in spite of it, the differing moral standpoints, martin stabbing jon, all good stuff.

but ever since 197, maybe even 196, i’ve been ambivalent at best about the web’s whole... thing, with being sentient and having a plan and stuff? so i simply could not connect to its plan going through as The Big Ending like, emotionally.

and part of it is just that like... what we were previously told about the fears was so contrary to this; that they are not sentient like humans, that they do not know themselves, that they are far removed & different from humanity, that no one not even jon in the apocalypse can really understand them or their thoughts, that the way humans interact with them is based on vague and confusing feelings and arbitrary definitions that fail to capture their fullness.

(like, yes this is about soup, but it’s also not about soup, it’s about the entities being unknowable and far distant from human sentience, and then kind of abruptly very knowable and pretty close to human sentience after all, and throwing that in there in the last episodes of the podcast felt..... weird, to me.)

like, way way back in s3 when gerry explained the fears, they are alien and unknowable and everything people think about them is guessing. simon in s4 has that whole thing about how none of the avatars know what the fears really want or how to give it to them, and the monsters have it even worse. at the start of s5 jon is super clear that he can’t Know anything about the fears directly, like, at all. but now he does.

and maybe he just got way stronger (altho having him do the fears’ statement like, the very next episode after he said the eye can’t see its own beginning? what?) but it didn’t feel like we’d been leading up to it. it felt sudden, and jarring, and out of step with how the whole fear entities situation had been talked about before.

...actually i think that’s. how i feel i general about the finale. not the character stuff, that was spectacular, but the whole big plan? it felt sudden and jarring. to me. maybe i just did not pick up on the hints, but like...

season one, we’re dropped jane prentiss EARLY. we know about her! and then she attacks martin, and then the worms bother the institute for ages, and michael shows up and is ominous about her, and then when she attacks the institute we’re like. expecting it.

(we maybe weren’t expecting the not-them, but we’d heard about the table and not-graham, so it happening to sasha, a minor character, is not such a surprise.)

season two, we know about the not-them. we can see this conflict building, we know jon’s paranoid and about what, we know not-sasha is gonna pull some shit. and then we have her revealed, and she does, and that also is the big attack jon has to deal with!

once again there is a startling reveal about elias (altho that was hinted at a little bit, before he killed leitner), but once again it is an attack that happens to a minor character. jon had his big confrontation that had been building, and this is secondary, and also sets up the next season.

season three, like, we know about the circus all along. like, all along. we also know about elias all along! so the only surprise in the finale was jon still being alive, but tbh that’s not so surprising, he’s the main character.

season 4, we know about peter lukas being a threat, we know jon must confront him to save martin. additionally, we know about all the attempted rituals. jon keeps trying to stop them, but we also have it hinted that they never work, although we don’t know why (we think it’s gertrude, and then we meet manuela, and learn that no, it’s not always gertrude...) we also have extinction brought up, and so while it’s a twist that extinction is not the big bad, we are so emotionally & mentally prepped for ‘end of the world’. elias? elias is a sinister presence hinting ominously at things, and he escapes prison and then leaves when jon goes into the lonely, so he is totes the catalyst.

season 5............ we build up elias. we build up jon. we even build up annabelle, a little bit, although not as much as i would have liked.

we... don’t really have much buildup to ‘the web is sentient and has an elaborate plan to spread to an infinite number of universes.’

like, it’s not hinted at. we know from ages back that hill top road is some kind of crack in reality, but it’s not like... a threat, to our characters or their world. the web having a big plan doesn’t feel particularly hinted at either, like oliver talks about how the end will win but the web isn’t brought up there, as an opponent to that.

like, i know the web’s manipulation is meant to be subtle, but i could’ve used. some more about it. there aren’t a lot of overtly web statements, and i think in the apocalypse there’s only ‘strung out’, which is a very different sort of message, but like... idk, a web domain or two about passing things along or something? might’ve been. helpful. like the spider in ‘strung out’ gives jon a rly pointed message about how it’s totally under his control, which is the total opposite of the web’s eventual plan.

like, it’s just... i am content, with the tragedy and the ultimate messages of the finale. it just felt like a very sudden shift, in a kind of weird way, that upset some previous worldbuilding and plotbuilding that had been established already, so i feel... kind of eh about that.

[nerdfighterwhatevernumbers]

Since there’s been some discussion on people getting into TMA for jonmartin then getting sad when bad things happen to them here’s a list of other reasons I like TMA even though I don’t normally like horror

Deliberate avoidance of sexual violence

It eases you into it. It starts off with anthology type stories that are dismissed as untrue by the narrator, but they’re still creepy, and it’s a slow build to when any on screen characters are in undeniable danger

Avoids jump scares and hurting pets (pets specifically, not all animals)

It’s really well narrated

Death is typically in the form of one off characters we weren’t meant to care much about, or characters who had a lot of build up and discussion around them. The fact that it’s a long series means that unlike in a book or movie I’m not just waiting for every character to die in just 2 hours.

TBH everyone dying or gore and violence all over can be distracting, and they don’t bury the show in it, so it’s way easier to get into the stories than some other stuff I’ve tried

They still have episodes with violence and death so it’s not like they’re limiting themselves by not drowning in it

Because most stories are in first person, even when I’m not especially sad they die, I still get a sense of the fear they were going through 

There’s some legit funny stuff in there

The meta plot provides a mystery to solve for a few seasons, which is VERY fun for me

The internal monologuing is way scarier to me than someone just getting stabbed or whatever, I still can’t listen to that guy going on about death

Like Twilight Zone not every episode is terrifying, but they are creepy, which means it’s not constantly on high alert for wimps like me

Slow but fairly solid character development

This is more a podcast thing but it’s actually extremely consistent with the podcast framing device where that tends to get dropped by other podcasts after a while

EXCELLENT for relistens. Everything means something new the more info you get. One problem I have with horror movies is sometimes it feels like its saying something or creating some kind of lore then by the end it just doesn’t make sense or was pointless

There’s also reasons you might NOT like it, but that’s a list for another day

some side notes under the cut

So I have tried listening to other horror podcasts before and they do still do stuff I can’t handle for one reason or another

one, it just got too scary because it focused exclusively on demons in the traditional religious sense, tma doesn’t explain anything for a long time then still just talks about different aspects of fear instead of sticking to one subject

another, I was super bothered because it seemed to be patting itself on the back for having queer rep while eventually making it clear NO ONE would survive season 1. Like, the narrator would get all excited about how important knowing an ace person and these lesbians existed in this scary history he found, going on about how important that kinda rep is, while it’s being made clear they’ll all die horribly very very soon, including the narrator. With TMA it never seemed like they were bragging about their gays and while a gay dude died in ep 3, he was a one off character, and they didn’t draw attention to how important it was to know he existed and was happy as a queer person the way the other podcast did to every single one of its characters on the chopping block. You can’t go on about how important that rep is in your own story then violently take it away in under a season. If we’re just counting characters who were there for more than one episode, in TMA it took them over a hundred episodes to kill a confirmed gay. 

one podcast jumped to dead babies in like episode 2 then of course it has to escalate so it didn’t take long to get to cannibalism and sexual violence. like i said before, tma avoids sexual violence but it also has a slower build before full on cannibalism, this one jumped in so quick it was like it had to constantly top itself with disturbing content. also all the stories were supposed to be told from a third person limited pov then had internal thoughts from people in the stories, tma is just more consistent- i think the farthest off tma gets is you can hear sound effects of things happening as jon narrates in third person in season 5 but i guess that can be taken as non-diegetic like the music

one i listened to the first couple seasons and it wasn’t so scary i had to stop, but again it just went OFF THE RAILS in season 2, instead of someone investigating something scary by listening to tapes, it became ‘hmm i’m gonna listen to a tape of disturbing content that has nothing to do with anything and somehow this will lead me to the conclusion that you need to go into this tunnel’ with NO explanation, as if the disturbing content just inspired them to know something they needed rather than the content informing anyone of anything, and it just felt like nothing mattered anymore, especially since the actual story felt like it lost any kind of sense

Others just aren’t acted well enough to sell the found footage framing device they’ve set up

[bookish-bi-mormon]

The People You Think You Love Don’t Exist

Written for @asexual-jarchivist for @tma-valentines-exchange 

Read on Ao3

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Characters: Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood

Tags: Argument, Emotional Hurt/Comfort,  Angst, Fluff, (mostly fluff), Scottish Safehouse, Post Lonely,

Happy Valentines Day Tony!! I love you so much 💜💜

~~~~~~~~

Jon was tired. And he was frustrated with himself for being tired. He and Martin had been in Daisy’s safehouse for a few days, and he had had plenty of time to rest and relax. It was the first time in a long time that he’d consistently gotten a good night’s sleep. Yet he was exhausted.

            Martin poked his head out of the kitchen, a grin across his face. Jon wanted to be happy to see that grin. It really was a beautiful grin. But he knew it meant Martin was about to ask him something and he didn’t want to get up from his spot on the couch.

            “Hey Jon?” Martin said, in an endearingly genuine voice, “Would you want to come help me finish dinner? I’m almost done, just a few extra steps.”

            And, because Jonathan Sims was finally accepting how in love he was, he agreed to follow Martin into the kitchen, despite the protests from his mind and body as he left the comfortable sofa and made his way around the corner.

             They worked in silence for a while. Martin kept glancing at Jon like he wanted to say something, but he wasn’t saying anything, and it was starting to grate on Jon’s already strained nerves. His good will was beginning to leave him and his legs hurt for no discernable reason and really his mind just kept telling him to get in bed.

            But instead he was placing the tray of asparagus in the oven and trying to match Martin’s chipper attitude. Although that seemed to be wearing thin itself.

            It was odd, the kinds of things you thought about when you were in the same room as someone but not talking to them. Unbidden, a memory made its way to the front of Jon’s mind, like an unwanted acquaintance approaching him on an unusually foggy day: how much did they really know each other, he and Martin? Peter Lukas had said that they didn’t, and as much as Jon had tried to forget that – had tried to forget most everything that had happened that day – it was a thought that demanded attention.

            He glanced at Martin, as he was collecting a couple of plates from the cupboard, and wondered at how few conversations they had really had in all the time they had known each other. Did he even know Martin’s middle name? Not that that detail really mattered but … Martin had been known to lie. To be fair so had Jon himself.

Despite himself, Jon felt the memory of Peter Lukas’s voice push its way to the front of his mind. The people you think you love don’t exist. Not really. And that’s a very lonely place to be.

            “What is it?” Martin asked, and Jon shook his head a bit, reorienting himself.

            “What?”

            “Nothing you just – you looked like you had something to say,” Martin placed the plates and utensils on the small table as he spoke, his eyes on Jon. They were earnest eyes. Kind.

            Worried.

            “It's nothing,” Jon said, turning away as if to check on something and then realizing he had nothing to check. “No, my mind just went … somewhere else. Sorry.”

            Martin nodded silently, like he understood something, “My mind goes there too, sometimes,” he said in a small voice.

            “Where?” Jon asked, looking at Martin, and he was sorry that he sounded more annoyed than he’d meant to.

            Martin smiled a sadly, “The Lonely.” He paused, then said softly, “I’m sorry,” looking at the ground, “It’s my fault we ended up there in the first place.”

            Jon breathed. He knew what he was supposed to say in this situation. He was supposed to say it wasn’t a problem, that he’d have gone to the Lonely – or somewhere ten times worse – a thousand times over to save Martin because he loved him and that’s what love was, wasn’t it? But he was so tired. He dropped into one of the chairs with a small nod instead of responding. He tried to think of something he knew about Martin that didn’t have to do with being tormented by monsters. When was the last time they’d had a conversation about something normal?

            No, that was unfair. They had had plenty of light conversations as they traveled here. Jon just really needed to get some sleep.

            “I think I’m going to lie down,” he found himself saying aloud.

            Martin looked a bit taken aback, “But dinner is almost –”

            “I know.” Jon said, rather abruptly, standing and starting to make his way across the room. “I’m sorry I’m … not hungry.”

            Martin took a deep breath, evidently upset, although he tried to hide it. “Right. Okay. I’ll just eat on my own.” He wasn’t trying to be passive-aggressive, but it still made Jon feel the need to apologize.

            “Sorry,” he said again, “I’ve just been … I’ve been having a bit of a rough time.”

            “What and you think I haven’t?”

            “No, I never said that,” Jon responded quickly, turning back to face him “why are you –”

            “Sorry,” Martin said, and Jon was acutely aware of how often that word had been used in the last few minutes, “I just – are you angry with me about something, Jon?”

…

            Jon hadn’t thought he was angry – confused or doubtful, maybe – but a few moments later he’d dug into the hurt he’d been feeling since he’d woken up in the hospital, and it certainly looked a lot like anger. Months of worrying about Martin from a distance and watching him choose to drift further and further away – maybe it wasn’t rational, but emotions rarely are, and Jon had been hurting for a long time.

            “That’s not fair,” Martin said indignantly in response to Jon’s latest assertion. They were both standing in the middle of the kitchen now, agitation keeping Jon on his feet despite the tiredness he’d been feeling all day.

“Well, I’m sorry” Jon said, this time using that word as more of a weapon than an apology, his voice louder than he meant it to be, “I just … I wish we could’ve faced these last few months together, but instead you left me to deal with all of it on my own.”

            Martin scoffed and Jon looked up, surprised at the derision on his face. “Oh, you were alone?” Martin retorted.

            “No, I – you know what I mean.”

            “No Jon, tell me. What do you mean?”

            Jon sighed, he knew that he shouldn’t say what was about to come out of his mouth, “I wasn’t completely alone, but that’s because for once I wasn’t the one pushing everyone away.”

            Martin made an indignant noise, “I was trying to keep you safe!” he said, “to keep you away from their plans for once!”

           “But you didn’t have to do that!” Jon retorted, “I don’t need you to protect me!”

            Martin was silent for a moment, the hurt evident in his eyes. And Jon was suddenly acutely aware of the circular scars that peppered his skin, the perpetually wrinkled scarring on his burned hand, and the months that for him held no memory other than fearful dreams. Maybe he did need someone to protect him.

            “Jon,” Martin said after a deep breath, “you were … gone. You were gone and Tim was dead, and I was alone.”

            Jon opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself.

             “The lonely, it’s not – I wasn’t just there for a small amount of time,” Martin said, “It’s not even just these past months. I have always been … alone.”

            And on that word the tears started running down his cheeks. Slowly at first but they picked up speed as he fought to keep his breathing under control. “Even … back when we first started working in the Archives, you all were such good friends and I just … I tried so hard. But I’ve never been the person people see. I’ve always faded into the background. The lonely just … let me do it on command,” he said with a bitter laugh through his tears.

            “Martin,” Jon said, guilt filling him as he reached a comforting hand out, but Martin waved it away.

            “No, no, it’s fine I’m just …” he took a shuddering breath, “for once, I could use that. For once I thought, ‘I can be alone, on purpose and I can help people that way. Maybe even save the world.’ But it doesn’t matter anymore. Turns out that was just another stupid idea.”

            Jon took a few steps toward him, closing the distance but not reaching for him this time, “Martin, I’m so sorry,” he said, “I – I was hurt that you pushed me away but I shouldn’t have brought it up like this. I – “

            “It’s alright Jon, don’t –” Martin took a deep breath, obviously trying to reorganize his thoughts, stop himself from saying something stupid. “I’m just … I think sometimes that maybe nobody actually needs me, y’know? Like, all I do is make tea, write bad poetry, and fuck everything up.”

            Jon looked at Martin, despite his large frame, in that moment he looked small. Jon thought back on everything that had happened to them, on all the times he’d thought he could do things alone, and all the times Martin had been there for him. “I’m sorry that you feel that way,” he said, and for some reason in this moment he felt the right thing to do was increase the distance between them, give Martin some space, “and yes, we’ve both made our share of bad decisions recently. But,” he sank into one of the kitchen chairs, keeping his eyes on Martin, “I need you to know that’s not true – I do need you. I mean … that’s kind of what I’ve been trying to say, I think.”

            Martin turned his eyes to meet Jon’s.

            “I missed you,” Jon admitted, “and I kept my distance because I trusted you, but it still hurt, although I don’t blame you for any of the decisions you made,” and as he said it he realized it was true. “I guess I’m just … scared?”

            “Scared of what?” Martin sat as well, his legs brushing against Jon’s. He was still wiping tears from his eyes, but he seemed to be regaining composure, his earnest face focused on Jon.

             “I’ve changed.” Jon said matter-of-factly, looking forward at the lines in the wood of the table, “I’m not … human. What if … what if I’m not who you thought I was? You think you know me but – ”

            “Oh Jon,” Martin said, reaching his arm around Jon’s shoulder. Jon initially stiffened at the unexpected touch, but then welcomed the opportunity to melt into Martin’s warmth, “I’m sorry I hurt you,” he said first, and Jon nodded to show he accepted the apology, “and yeah, we are not the people we were when we first started working in the archives, anyone could tell you that,” Jon scoffed at the understatement, “maybe there is a lot we still don’t know about each other but … I mean we haven’t been boyfriends very long. We’ve got time to learn.”

            Boyfriends. Jon smiled. He did like the sound of that every time he heard it.

            “And I know enough now to say this,” Martin gently cupped Jon’s face in one of his hands, smiling slightly as their eyes met, “I love you Jonathan Sims, and no amount of spooky Avatar weirdness is going to change that.”

            Jon smiled in response; much – though not all – of the tension he had been feeling drifted away as he leaned up to gently kiss Martin.

            “I love you too, Martin,” he said quietly.

            After a moment, Martin pulled back, sniffing the air. Jon smelled it too, something burning.

            Simultaneously, they turned to look at the counters. The chicken was set on top of the stove and had long since grown cold. There was smoke rising from inside the oven and Jon realized with a start that he had never set a timer for the asparagus he’d placed inside.

            Jon wasn’t entirely sure why, but he started to laugh as Martin rushed to open the oven; snatching a potholder and waving smoke away, he pulled out a tray of charred black sticks that were far beyond edible. Martin looked from Jon to the devastated tray and back, the dismay on his face transitioning into reluctant amusement before he was laughing alongside Jon, his face breaking into one of the most wonderful smiles Jon had ever seen.

[irradiatedsnakes]

one tma-related pet peeve of mine is when ppl make a distinction between “jon sims” and “the archivist” as if theyre in any way separate and not just two names for the same person. like i get what’s meant by it i do but its likeee

im not quiiite sure how to explain exactly why it bothers me but it does make me think a lot about s4 and the discussion of culpability with relation to the powers, especially the ep scrutiny. like...how upon hearing of what jon did in that ep martin’s first instinct was to rationalize it as not actually him

Martin: Oh, that ca - that can’t - (he cuts himself off) I mean, it’s not him, is it. Not - not really. It’s - what, addiction, instinct, maybe m-mind control, something like that? I - can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that.

and his and daisy’s convo later in the ep, specifically this bit

Daisy: I’m sorry, Martin.

Martin: It’s alright. Wasn’t you. Not really.

Daisy: No, it was. I hate a lot of what I did back then; doesn’t mean I’m not responsible for it, doesn’t mean it wasn’t me.

its like....ok to clarify im not trying to say jon’s actions in any recent eps have been like, bad or something im just trying to say that like... ppl seem to conceptualize him having like, a human half and a beholding half or something, and i think that’s not a good way to look at it. its more just...people change and in this series sometimes people change because of eldrich fear gods?

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

Jon: We’re not people, though, are we? Not any more.

Helen: Names. Categories. It’s all so important to you, isn’t it? You do know none of it’s actually real. It’s all just meaningless boxes.

with regards to helens point there it kinda does feel like trying to put smth into neat lil boxes that doesnt quite work like that, at least to my eyes. i guess my point is that there’s not a point at which he stops being jon and starts being the archivist. he’s just jon, the archivist. siri send tweet

[thetypingdragon]

MAG 177! Live Reactions

Woo! TMA is back!

Hey people who guess mental hospital on discord were right based on the cws.

Basira! “It can’t have been that bad” Seriously Basira??!? “you look fine to me”?? “She’s been through a lot more than we have”?? all this sounds familiar . . . you cant complain, other people have it worse.

Daisy’s not here. Oh.

“you caused this.” oh no it begins.

See I don’t think Basira has been joking about killing Jon.

Yes, what was Trevors deal?

Basira statement? So Daisy killed Julia soon after the Archives incident? Then Trevor tracks Daisy . . . so she is going to keep her promise to Daisy?

OOH! Basira outright said it! Jon used Martin as bait . . . oh no. Jon used both as bait but didn’t tell Martin, the fans were right. Are you sure its okay Martin?

So there in Wonderland House a mental health facility. Oh statement time?

Oh Martin and Basira talking? London’s there sort of? Thats cool. Yes Basira martin does trust Jon! Convenient? Oh so everything is suspicious to you?

Oh that was just Jon finding the route? Daisy’s victim? Oh now its statement time.

A euphemism for what Basira?! Constipated . . . :/ 

Basira no its not like that. . .

That’s not your name . . . eh . . . help people come to their senses and protect the world from your self indulgent  nonsense and make you less of a burden . . . ehhhh . . . uncomfy. dont like. The victim definitely said something about how its societies problem not theirs . . . i feel that . . . then “Doctor David” says that their the biggest victim. Lies . . but thats how the Spiral works isnt it. 

A distressing time.

Meaningless little brat. Old prescription? The new one isn’t even known? Sweet dreams?!? OH NO ITS LOOPING AGAIN! This is what Anil meant when he said it was like 170 in  the discord this morning isnt it . . .

That’s not how your name is pronounced . . . >:( we have no patience for your ridiculous lies . . . you made it all up didn’t you . . . for attention . . . as an excuse . . . everyone does hate you . . . if the last Doctor David was society is this one our own thought telling us we’re faking it? Or both every time?

Another Loop? 5 Years??? Dont insult your orderlies . . . “it can’t have been all that bad” sounds like what Basira said.

What did the victim just do . . . it sounded gross . . oh no what’s under his face???? All the time in the world . . .

And its over. told you it wouldn’t be what you thought Basira. “Fuck” Ha!! So many swears in this season.

The fear that your problems aren’t real. Good thing? No, because you’re still suffering, but if you’re problems arent real then what is the reason? is it your own fault somehow? 

yep, Jon explains it. Basira still doesn’t get it. And yes Basira it is more nuanced. Door open and dripping blood? Oh its Daisy’s thing

Jon dont turn Daisy’s victim into a statement . . .

Basira you know who he is?!? Why??? Is Daisy hunting people who’d gotten away from her? 

OOH shoot good point Jon! Basira’s a cop who thinks hes just an evil criminal with no nuance, but he was running away from Daisy . . . ooh is this where we get Basira’s half of her and Daisy’s im just going to call it ACAB story. The court believed the man, but Basira believed Daisy. She defends Daisy the way other cops defend each other . . .

Helen! help how Helen? Not your corridors? Dont Basira you’ll get lost in that shortcut . . . even if she made she hasn’t learned any lesson she might not even do it. In there for two weeks and you were fine!

Good decision Basira. Helen shut it with your gaslighting!! And leave Jon alone!

[megmahoneyart]

why did you draw michael who is white as looking more remorseful and human on half his face than helen who you depict as a black woman who appears angry with both of her eyes spiraled? even despite michaels vocal insistence that he is wholly an inhuman monster and his cruel actions you draw him looking more innocent and human than a black woman who has not done anything nearly as monstrous as him and held onto her human identity more strongly?

Okay!  So, I use this blog to draw and not to talk, but I’m suuuper long-winded when I write.  And to spare the general public, I’ve put this answer under a read-more.  But it’s a good and valid question!  And I appreciate anon’s concern; I thought the question deserved as good an answer as I could give.  So that answer is below:

That’s a totally valid question!  I didn’t intend to convey “remorseful” so much as, upset, with Michael.  Angry wasn’t necessarily what I was going for with Helen either--so it sounds like my expressions overall aren’t reading super well. Helen was meant to be more, I think enthusiastic, is the word I’m looking for.

The big difference between Helen and Michael isn’t one of them being more innocent or more guilty than the other.  The difference is the amount of conflict.  Helen has repeatedly brought up how much better she is at being The Distortion than Michael ever was.  Michael had a lot of knowledge about the Fears, and The Spiral, in particular, before becoming The Distortion than Helen did.  And, along with that, he brought the baggage of being taught that his job was to fight the fears, and the baggage of being scarred by The Spiral before working for the Institute.  He kind of sucks at being The Distortion because his job was to stop The Distortion from performing The Spiral’s ritual--and that leaves both The Distortion hating Michael for fucking up its purpose, and Michael hating The Distortion because it’s the embodiment of what he hated and feared as a human.  Everything Michael Distortion does is double-minded--because part of him is like “Hey I used to work here, and these guys are technically my co-workers, and I kind of want to hang out with them, but I also hate this place” and part of him is “I want to Fuck Everything Up, and I hate All of these people and would be happy to see them dead.”  

Helen, on the other hand, doesn’t have the baggage of foreknowledge or hatred.  She’s Michael Distortion’s victim, at first.  But the second she has an opening to turn the tables, she jumps on it.  And the reason she had an opening is because Michael and The Distortion were at odds and schisming and in Conflict.  She’s set up in season 4 to be a kind of narrative foil for Jon--as they have both become avatars without really meaning to (like the majority of avatars that have showed up on the show).  In Season 4, Jon is constantly agonizing over what exactly he is now, and futilely circling around the morality of his continued existence.  Helen, in season 4, is beyond this point.  She has already accepted the Way Things Are now, and she’s dealing--constantly telling Jon he needs to deal with it (the reality of being a “monster” too).  By season 5, she’s not just dealing, she’s Thriving.  And in seasons 4 and 5, at any opportunity, she (Helen Distortion) is always down to remind Jon (and co) that she is So Much Better at being what she is (The Distortion) than Michael ever was.  

I think Helen Richardson probably had a stronger character than Michael Shelley did, as humans as well.  Not saying that one was better than the other. But Helen was a successful career-woman.  Michael started at the institute as a scared kid, who was then groomed by Gertrude and psychologically experimented on by Emma.  I could never see Helen Richardson ever being someone Gertrude Robinson could emotionally manipulate, or convince to “sacrifice” herself.

And all of that informs how I characterize these two characters’ personalities when I draw them.  And that doesn’t touch on the race issue.

Unfortunately, TMA doesn’t explicitly describe many characters’ race or ethnicity.  A Lot has been said about the few negative vs positive characters who are explicitly characters of color.  It’s kind of a black-and-grey-morality podcast.  But on the side of the protagonists/positively-portrayed you’ve got Oliver Banks, Adelard Dekker, Basira Hussain, Mikaele Salesa.  On the enemy-aligned side you’ve got Jude Perry, Tom and John Haan, Manuela Dominguez, and Annabelle Cane.  And those on the positive side are pretty flawed (aside from Adelard Dekker who is an anomaly on this show); and those on the negative side usually have at least some alternate-character-interpretations and can be viewed as sympathetic (lookin at you, Annabelle).  A lot of discussion has gone into their characterizations and how that relates to their respective races--and the problems therein (Jude Perry is startlingly devoid of family concerns--when culturally a large part of being a successful businesswoman would usually relate to how it benefits or affects her family; Mikaele Salesa’s setting up an Apocalypse Bunker without the crew he cared for is peak White behavior; bastard cops that are WOC (like Basira) absolutely exist--but should a story about a WOC bastard cop be written by a white guy?; the Haans being avatars for The Flesh is straight-up racist; etc).  

But again, the list of characters that are explicitly characters of color is Short.  And the fandom filled in some gaps.  Almost all of the characters get a variety of designs, and some characters don’t have a Uniform Fanon Race (like Melanie).  But some characters are almost always portrayed as a certain race (Jon is almost always portrayed as Desi or Pakistani, Georgie is almost always portrayed as black, Helen is almost always portrayed as black).  I came into the show late.  By the time I arrived, Desi/Pakistani Jon and black Helen were the only Jon and the only Helen I saw when I showed up.  (The first sketches I did for the show, I did before seeing any fan art, and before hearing any canon descriptors.  As such, Georgie would be unrecognizable to most of the fandom--because I drew her white the first time I drew her; and Martin is Too Small in my first sketches--because they were drawn before I got to episodes that described him as tall and chubby and before I saw the fantart--which gives us the Big Martin we deserve).  So that’s why my Helen is black.  (My Michael is white because he is physically described early in the show--and is one of the confirmed white characters).

That said, I accepted the generally-agreed-upon fan depictions of Helen (and other characters) without a whole lot of critical thought from Me.  I’ve since read a lot of good takes on why Jon is depicted as Desi and why his characterization has resonated with certain Desi listeners.  I haven’t read any dissertation on why Helen is black.  My guess is that, where there were no canon physical descriptions (like with Taz Balance before the graphic novels), the fandom Made representation because they wanted it and because they could.  Maybe there was discourse, back in the day, on why Georgie and Helen are usually depicted as black; but I didn’t see it.  My (completely uninformed) guess is that people liked Georgie.  And people liked Helen.  And if they could make the cool lady with a great cat that is incapable of being afraid black, and if they could make the cool lady who has sharp hands and set up her house in the Institute basement for fun black, why not do it?

If you, anon, do have strong feelings that Helen shouldn’t be black and why, feel free to pass that on to me.  I am Not the authority on Helen’s characterization or her appearance--especially as related to race--as I’m 1) white and 2) just another listener of the show.

If I were to start drawing Helen as white, she’d probably be unrecognizable to people that are looking through the tag for their sharp-handed wife.  And I like Helen.  So without additional information, I’m unlikely to change my depiction of her.  But!  If you (or anybody else) do have additional information, I’m happy to see/hear it, and will take any concerns raised with me into consideration.

[haberdashing]

Things I Almost Remember

TMA fic building off the AU established in Yesterday Is Here by @cirrus-grey, in which a post-season-4 Jon goes back in time to the pre-season-1 Archives to prevent the worst of the future from happening as it did in canon.

(All you need to know for the purposes of this fic is the premise and that the archival staff dub future Jon “Sims” to distinguish him from that era’s Jon, but I do recommend the fic. If this took place within it, it’d be between chapters 2 and 3.)

on AO3

Sasha was the first one to enter the archives, the morning after Jon explained to the archival staff why he was there, what had happened between this time and the one he was from, what the stakes were for him going back and setting things right.

That fit what he remembered of Sasha, at least. She had always been a morning person, or at least more so than any of her coworkers, and she’d made a habit of getting there bright and early to get a good start on the day’s work whenever she could afford it, usually with a freshly-bought coffee in hand.

(Jon had wondered at one point if that was really Sasha he was remembering with all that, or whether Not-Sasha had cultivated that same habit instead to spend that time before the rest of the staff arrived spying on the archives, but, well, seems like that particular uncertainty was now settled.)

Sasha smiled and waved at Jon as she walked through the door, and Jon didn’t hesitate to reciprocate.

“Good morning, Jo-”

She paused, looking more closely at Jon and swapping out her greeting mid-word, though Jon was glad to see that the realization didn’t make her cheery early morning smile fade terribly much. “Sims. Good morning, Sims.”

“Good morning, Sasha.”

Sasha headed towards her desk, and Jon couldn’t help but watch. It was good to see Sasha again, the real Sasha, after that long stretch of time spent without her, and that uncomfortable bit where what he’d thought was her was actually an impostor in his midst-

-and weird, as well, because there was still a part of Jon’s mind that insisted it remembered what Sasha James looked like and sounded like and this wasn’t it, but Jon had long since accepted that weird had become par for the course in his life.

“Why are you looking at me funny?”

Jon blinked, Sasha’s speech disrupting his train of thought. “I’m not looking at you funny.”

“Yes you are. And you’re not being subtle about it either, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Sasha made a detour, heading towards Jon instead of proceeding towards her desk, until she was standing just a few feet from him and looking him dead in the eye. “What’s going on?”

“It’s just...” Jon sighed softly before continuing. “I’d forgotten what you looked like.”

“Am I really that unmemorable?”

Jon could feel the blood rushing to his face as he hastened to respond. “No, no, it’s not like that-”

Sasha laughed, and it sounded different than Jon remembered, and it sounded right. “No, honestly, I get it, clearly you’ve had a lot on your mind with- with saving the world and all, and it doesn’t seem like you’re great with faces to begin with-”

“That’s not it, though- I mean, you’re right that I’m not always the best with faces, but-”

“Knew it.” Sasha grinned at that, a satisfied grin, which coupled with her words suggested to Jon that she’d just had a pet theory of hers confirmed. He might not have gone out of his way to get close to his archival assistants back then--back now--but evidently they’d still managed to pick up a few things about him along the way.

“But the reason I forgot what you looked like is that... when you died-”

It would be future tense in this time period, of course, but he wasn’t going to let it happen again, so might as well keep to the tenses that fit his own personal timeline. (Time travel was confusing in a number of ways, and Jon had anticipated as much, but the linguistic hurdles involved were somewhat unexpected.)

“Something else took your place, and when it did, it changed our memories to make us think it was you. It looked different, sounded different, but as far as any of us could remember, that was how you’d always been.”

Sasha hummed thoughtfully to herself for a moment before asking, “So this other me, this thing that took my place. What did it look like?”

“Now that I can see the real you, it was... way different.” Jon let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “A lot shorter, for one thing, and skinnier. No glasses, either. And its hair was all wrong, too, short and blonde, in... kind of a bob?”

Sasha’s laugh had more humor in it than Jon’s had, though that wasn’t a high bar to pass. “You thought I had a blonde bob? Seriously?”

“We all did!” Jon didn’t mean to sound quite as defensive as his voice came out. “We all thought that’s what you’d always looked like! Except Melanie, I suppose, still don’t know why she was the only one who could see through it-”

“Melanie?”

Oh, he had not meant to drop that name that early, especially since it was still only a matter of time before Melanie King came in to give her first statement to the Institute... “Forget I said that name. Please.”

“...alright, fine.”

There was a moment of silence before Sasha spoke up again.

“I know there’s some pictures of me around this place--are those what tipped you off, then?”

Jon shook his head. “They changed, too. Everything did, except your voice on the tapes, and it hid those when it took your place. All those pictures would show is you as-” Jon let a little laughter shine through in his voice as he looked at Sasha--the real, original Sasha--and knew how off the image he was describing, the image that was still his go-to mental image of Sasha James, was in comparison. “As a skinny little thing with a blonde bob.”

Sasha didn’t hesitate in her reply this time. “That’s bonkers.”

“Welcome to my world.”

This time, Sasha’s grin did clearly shrink a little. In hindsight, Jon couldn’t say he blamed her. They knew by and large what his world was like, now, and it wasn’t exactly a pleasant one.

“Now, I really do have some work to get going on, and my coffee’s getting a bit cold-”

“Right, of course. Go ahead. Just... it’s good to see you, Sasha. The real you.”

“...thanks, I guess.”

Sasha took a seat at her desk, the one Jon remembered as having gone unoccupied for so long, and Jon tried his best not to stare, tried not to drink in the image of Sasha James in the flesh, tried not to dwell on the inconsistencies that he was hoping this would finally smooth over in his mind.

[ollieofthebeholder]

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

Tumblr tag || Also on AO3

Chapter 28: Jon Prime

“It’s not your fault, Jon,” Martin said for probably the twelfth time in as many hours.

“I know.” Jon sighed as he abandoned his scan of the shelves and crossed back over to where his fiancé sat, patiently waiting for him. “That doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty.”

Martin raised an eyebrow. “About Helen or about Past You?”

“You know me so well.” Jon settled himself on the ground and folded his arms on Martin’s knee, resting his head on them. Martin’s hand immediately came up to stroke his hair. “I honestly never expected us to be able to save Helen, in the end, but I-I had hoped the Distortion would leave the others alone.”

Sasha had been the one to come down into the tunnels and alert the two of them that Helen Richardson had made her appearance and disappearance. Jon and Martin had risked coming above ground with her to make sure the other three were all right. Past Jon had been twitchy and nervous, which made Jon nervous, and both Tim and Past Martin had been hovering in a way that made his heart ache as much as it made him smile to see. He was also strangely comforted by the sight of Past Jon draped in a sweater that was obviously Past Martin’s. But ever since then, Jon had been wondering if there was more he could have done to prevent it from happening, or at least divert it.

Martin shook his head slowly. “That was never really an option. He’s still…we didn’t go back far enough to save Michael Shelley, so he’s going to be angry. He’s still going to want revenge against the Archivist, and unfortunately that was always going to be Past You.”

“You know, it seems a bit silly to keep calling them Past Us,” Jon mused idly. It wasn’t exactly hard for him to think clearly with Martin’s fingers gently combing his scalp, but it certainly sapped any desire he might have had to think about anything else. “Technically, we’re in their time. They are the present and we are the future.”

“I mean…technically we’re all in the present now. The future we came from doesn’t exist anymore, right?”

“I refuse to have that discussion again,” Jon said, with a bit of humor. They’d had a lighthearted debate about time travel one night in Scotland, which had reached no conclusion other than Martin’s heartfelt declaration that the only way to create a timeline where he didn’t love Jon was to remove him from it entirely, and even then he didn’t like the universe’s chances. It seemed a lot more weighty now. “But it doesn’t matter. I don’t think—I think the only way forward is the old-fashioned way. One day at a time.”

Martin smiled down at him. “I’m okay with that, actually.”

“Mm, yes, I didn’t imagine you’d be in that much of a hurry to go back to the Apocalypse.”

“Not what I mean, Jon. I mean…you know, as horrible as these years were? All things considered, I’m looking forward to living them again. With you this time, instead of just…alongside you. Hand in hand, walking into a future so bright even I can almost see it.”

Jon couldn’t help the smile that curled almost to his ears as he leaned back into Martin’s hand. “You should write a poem around that.”

“I’m saving it for our wedding vows.”

“Now how am I supposed to follow that up?”

Martin laughed. For a moment, Jon could almost imagine things were, well, normal, that they were just an ordinary couple discussing their wedding plans and that they could look forward to a future where the biggest thing they would have to worry about was their teenager being out past curfew. He wasn’t stupid. Stopping Jonah, stopping the Apocalypse, wouldn’t remove the entities from existence. They would always be out there. And while the rituals would collapse on their own…mostly…Jon knew they would likely spend the rest of their lives working to ensure that nobody else ever figured out a ritual that would work. The fears would be a part of their lives for as long as they lived them, which meant there would always be something worse than normal human cares to worry them. But that didn’t mean they couldn’t have those cares, too.

He was about to say something to that effect when Martin’s hand stilled, a few strands of hair tangled around his fingers. Jon was about to ask what was wrong when he, too, heard it—a small sound, caught in a perfect moment of silence. The faintest scuff of shoe against stone. Someone was coming down the stairs.

“Jon?” Martin kept his voice to a whisper. He didn’t sound afraid, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t reason to be.

Jon hesitated. He could reach out with the Eye’s powers, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t get caught, but…no. He got to his feet and tugged at Martin’s hand. Martin, thank God, complied without question, standing up and staying close to Jon as he led him, quickly and quietly, through the Archives. He lifted the trapdoor and nudged Martin down the steps, then followed and closed it as silently as he could.

Martin was waiting for him at the foot of the steps and hugged Jon close when Jon slid an arm around his waist. “Who was it?”

“No clue. I didn’t want to risk it, just in case…” Jon stiffened and glanced up the stairs as awareness slid over him—a drop of water forcing its way past the door he’d once spoken of to Melanie, what seemed like a lifetime ago. “Come on.”

Jon all but dragged Martin away from the foot of the stairs, to the first room along the hall where they had set up camp. Thankfully, they hadn’t broken their habit of packing everything away any time they were going to be out for more than a few minutes, ready for a quick getaway if needed, so it was the work of a second to grab the bags and stow them against the wall in a place so that, should someone push the door open, they would remain hidden in the gap left between the door and the corner. Martin stood where Jon had left him. “What’s going on?”

“Whoever it is, they’ll be down here in a second,” Jon whispered. He took Martin’s hand. “I don’t know who it is, but I don’t trust them. I doubt it’s someone who would wish us well.”

Martin hummed in understanding. “So what are we going to do?”

“There’s only one thing I can think of.” Jon clicked off his torch and poked his head out into the corridor. “We’re going to have to stay a step ahead of them. Somehow.”

It was the somehow that bothered him. Sound traveled oddly in the tunnels; sometimes things echoed, other times they didn’t. If whoever was coming down was making an effort to move silently, they may not be able to track their movements. And Jon couldn’t risk a light, couldn’t risk being spotted. It could have been a police officer—Basira or Daisy—even though the tunnels had long ago been cleared as a crime scene; on the other hand, if they’d cleaned up the CCTV footage, they might be down looking for additional clues. It could be the Not-Them, if it had taken over someone’s body and was down looking for Leitner, and really, it was too much to hope that the Not-Them would stay confined in the table forever; even if it wasn’t being studied, it would take someone, and Jon couldn’t imagine who. It could, possibly, be someone like Rosie—someone simply burning with curiosity who wanted to see what the tunnels were like. It could even potentially be a workman who discovered the trapdoor by accident and was making sure there was no work to be done underneath the floor.

Speculation wasn’t going to be helpful. Jon shook his head minutely and tugged Martin’s hand, leading him out into the tunnels proper.

Jon could see the faintest hint of light from the steps, meaning whoever it was had a torch; it was getting closer, but they had time. He turned away from the stairs and started down the hallway. They hadn’t gone far before the darkness swallowed them entirely. Jon cursed under his breath, wondering if he could use his abilities from the Eye and Know the right way to go.

“Four more steps and then a right turn,” Martin breathed in his ear, and Jon remembered that Martin had been counting steps as he went. He probably had a mental map of these tunnels that put Jon’s to shame.

“You’d best lead,” he muttered back.

Martin tightened his grip on Jon’s hand, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he simply moved forward to take point.

Jon kept glancing over his shoulder, trusting Martin to lead him safely. He wasn’t sure how much of a lead they had, nor was he sure where the person following them would head. Obviously whoever it was wasn’t looking for them specifically, unless the Eye was out to get them—which was possible—but still, Jon didn’t feel hunted. Which meant it likely wasn’t Daisy. He bit back the urge to groan.

“Shh,” Martin suddenly hissed urgently, stopping. Jon stopped, too, and listened. This time he heard it—solid, purposeful steps. Whoever was following them wasn’t particularly worrying about staying hidden, and they weren’t moving slowly, either. Which…was probably not a good thing.

“Shit,” Jon hissed. He looked over his shoulder and could just see the edges of a pool of light. “They’re coming.”

“In here.” Martin’s hand tugged Jon forward, then half-shoved him through what Jon felt was a narrow space. A moment later Martin’s arms were tight around Jon, pulling him close to his wide, soft chest.

“Where are we?” Jon whispered.

“One of the rooms without a door.” There was a faint rustling noise, and Jon guessed Martin was pressing his back against the wall. “It sounds like…they’re not looking in the rooms. We should be safe here for a moment.”

“And then we can get behind them,” Jon completed.

Martin hushed Jon again; before Jon could think about why, he noticed the faintest hint of light sparkling off the tunnel floor. Whoever was out there, they were close.

Jon pressed closer to Martin, burying his face in Martin’s shoulder. One of Martin’s hands came up to cup the back of his head as his other arm curled tighter around Jon’s waist, and Jon felt Martin’s cheek press against the top of his head. He clung tightly to his fiancé and held his breath. If someone was down there with a purpose, it wasn’t likely they would be coming into this specific room, but there was always the chance. Hopefully, if someone did catch them, he’d be able to pretend to be his younger self, and whoever it was wouldn’t notice that his hair was too long, that Martin’s had too much grey in it, that the wrong one of them was scarred…

The footsteps got louder, then—thankfully—started to fade again. Jon eased up his grip on Martin’s sweater and cautiously let out his breath in a silent rush of air. He looked up in Martin’s direction and reached up to touch his cheek lightly. In the darkness, he felt Martin nod and understood what it meant. He stepped carefully out of the circle of Martin’s arms and peered out through the doorway.

The circle of light was moving away from them in a steady, purposeful manner. To Jon’s surprise, he could see from there that it wasn’t a torch, but rather, an old-fashioned lantern, its flickering flame making the shadows dance on the wall. Suspicious. Disturbing. Odd.

Jon tugged on Martin’s hand, and together they tiptoed into the hallway. Martin let Jon lead without comment; likely he’d realized Jon could see the light. Unlike the other person, they were trying to be quiet, but Jon could still move fairly quickly and silently. It helped that they were both wearing tennis shoes, whereas the person ahead of them was wearing dress shoes. Expensive ones, too, Jon guessed. They tapped against the stone of the tunnels, not loudly but enough to be noticeable if they strained.

There was a junction up ahead, one Jon vaguely remembered his past self exploring, meaning it was likely marked. Sure enough, whoever was ahead of them stopped at a corner and raised the lantern to study the arrow on the wall. Its light caught the person full in the face, and Jon flattened against the wall, pressing the hand not holding Martin’s tightly against his mouth to stifle his gasp of shock.

It was the face of Elias Bouchard.

Jon’s mind raced. This made no sense. Jonah couldn’t see into the tunnels; they were a huge blind spot to him. He had to be even more tightly bound to the Eye than Jon was, which meant that coming down here put him at a disadvantage, too. As far as Jon knew, Jonah had only been down into the tunnels a couple of times during his tenure as the Archivist—to stage Gertrude’s body, and later to be present when Martin made his choice not to throw his lot in with Peter Lukas. To come down here, to go anywhere near the Panopticon…

That was it, Jon suddenly realized. He was looking to see how close Past Jon’s explorations had taken him. How close he’d come to the center of everything, to finding Jonah Magnus’ original body. Because if Past Jon stumbled upon it too soon, it would ruin everything. If the Not-Sasha had found it, it would have been bad as well…and what if Leitner had found it? Not that Jonah knew he was down here, but still.

Jonah was setting off again. Jon shook his head and tugged Martin closer. “It’s Jonah,” he whispered, as softly as he could. “Come on.”

Martin followed without a sound. If he hadn’t been holding Jon’s hand tightly, Jon might not have known he was there. They crept after Jonah as he strode purposefully through the tunnels, as though he knew where he was going. Of course he knew where he was going. It was his body, after all. Like Jon using his rib as an anchor, although he doubted now that had actually been as powerful a lure as he thought; it was the tapes, the tapes and Martin, that drew him out in the end. But Jonah…that was different. He was probably bound to his body, or drawn to it. Or he’d just memorized the route over the last two centuries.

Briefly, Jon considered the possibility that Jurgen Leitner’s manipulations had thrown Jonah’s path off, but he set that aside and kept following.

Jon lost track of the turns they took and hoped Martin was paying attention, or that they were following the arrows Past Jon made that first time he came down, when he went looking for them. He hadn’t explored further, although Jon was pretty sure that was going to change sooner rather than later, but for now he seemed content to trust them when they said that what was in the tunnels posed no threat to him. It wasn’t technically a lie.

Jonah came to a halt, raising the lantern again, and Jon pressed Martin flat against the wall as he watched. It was the ring of worms first Tim and later Jon had seen in their timeline, just as Jon remembered it—huge, eating its way into the stone, the space between it soft to the touch. Tentatively, lips pressed in a thin line, Jonah reached out and pressed his fingertips to the stone. He did so several times, his brows knitting together, and then he lifted the lantern and looked around, scanning the other walls.

It hit Jon all of a sudden that he was looking for more of Past Jon’s arrows. He was looking to see if Past Jon had made it this far, to see if he had found this place, maybe gotten suspicious enough to prod. If he would be back. This place was important to Jonah and it had to be because it was the way to the Panopticon. Was that what was inside the ring of dessicated worms? The doorway Jonah thought he had sealed up centuries before? Or…did it stay sealed? Was that where Jonah’s little ritual, whatever it actually entailed, to switch eyes with his chosen victims took place? (For the first time since he’d learned about that particular fact, a small part of Jon’s brain wondered what happened to the old bodies when Jonah moved on, if it took place prior to the host’s death or after, but he pushed that aside.)

After a few moments, Jonah’s shoulders slumped in evident relief, and he nodded, lowering the lantern. He was satisfied. His body was safe. His plan was still intact.

For a moment, Jon realized that he was staring down a golden opportunity. Jonah was in the tunnels. He was cut off from some—not all, but some—of his power. And he’d never had the same powers Jon had anyway. He was also distracted by his worries about discovery. He was here, right in front of Jon, with no witnesses other than Martin, who certainly wouldn’t object. It would be the work of a moment to enact their plan now, to step forward and unleash the power of the Ceaseless Watcher on this man who had brought agony on so many, who had really, in the end, done so little to actually serve the Eye. He could turn Jonah’s words back on himself, take him out now, save the world—save their friends.

He stared at Jonah, feeling himself tremble. The memory of the last time he had seen Jonah Magnus came to him—those carefully curated words designed to cut him down to nothing in a way that Peter Lukas would have envied, the cold fury that flashed briefly in those grey eyes before they went back to their usual calm, placid, watchful state when Martin defied him yet again, that smug, condescending lilt to his voice as he delivered his parting words before walking away from Martin’s bleeding body. It filled his entire being. He wanted to step forward then and there and end it all, to get revenge for Martin, for Tim, for Sasha, for Melanie and Basira and Daisy, for the world.

But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He didn’t feel the static building, couldn’t sense the words waiting on his tongue. He knew what he wanted to say, but even the first time, he’d known the Ceaseless Watcher would give him the right way to say it in the moment, and that wasn’t happening here. It wasn’t time. It must not be time. He’d have to be patient. It was the last thing he wanted to be, but he would have to be.

It was only when Jonah started to turn that Jon realized they now had to figure out how to get out of the tunnels ahead of Jonah, or at least avoid being seen by him.

“Martin,” he whispered, trying to keep his voice as soft as he possibly could. “Can you get us out of here?”

“This way,” Martin answered immediately. He pulled Jon’s hand and started down the tunnels.

They had to hurry, but they also had to stay silent. Jon knew that, but he also knew that Martin would have no idea if they were close to being spotted, so he kept glancing over his shoulder as they moved, checking to see how far back that glow of light was. He could still see it, that was the problem, any time they got on a straight enough bit, there it was, that circle of light presaging the approach of a man who still held the power to destroy everything Jon held dear. Jon had rarely felt more helpless, more useless, than he did in that moment, knowing he was letting a chance to try and take down Jonah Magnus two years early slip through his fingers because he was afraid of failing. Again.

His distraction made him careless. He took a turn too tightly and slammed his shoulder into the corner, and he couldn’t stop the soft grunt of pain. He jammed the heel of his free hand into his mouth, but it was too late. Jonah had heard, if the way he raised the lantern abruptly to the level of his eyes, which were narrowed with sudden intent scrutiny, was any indication.

Shit.

“Come on!” Martin hissed at him, tugging his hand. They picked up the pace, still trying to keep quiet, but Jon wondered if it would matter. Jonah Magnus wasn’t the sort of man to jump at shadows—or was he? No, he wouldn’t suspect he heard something and then decide he was wrong. He knew someone else was down here. They just had to make sure he couldn’t find them, that was the trouble. Or else…well, Jon would have to hope he was wrong about it not being time.

There was a loud creaking noise, and Jon almost jumped out of his skin, but then Martin tugged on him harder and pulled him around a corner. There was a dull thumping sound, too, which Jon tentatively identified as Martin’s back hitting the wall, and then he was wrapped tightly in Martin’s arms again, safe and secure against his chest. He fisted his hands in Martin’s sweater and pressed his face into his shoulder. Martin’s heart thudded frantically, directly under his ear, and Jon could feel his own heartbeat just as rapidly pounding in his own chest. They clung to each other and waited.

Jon heard the creaking noise again and held his breath, pressing closer to Martin, expecting any moment to either be struck with the door—depending on where Martin had positioned them—or discovered. But the noise sounded a bit distant, and when Jon risked a glance up, he could see only the slightest hint of light. They were in another room without a door; Jonah was in the tunnel, and evidently walking past. The light drew closer, paused outside the room, and suddenly got brighter. Jon held his breath and tried to somehow get closer to Martin, praying as he did so that he wasn’t hurting him. Evidently, though, they had managed to position themselves in the one place Jonah couldn’t easily see from the doorway, and their shadows didn’t give them away. He made a small noise that somehow managed to indicate suspicion and relief and disappointment all at once, and then the light lessened and the footsteps faded away.

Jon waited until it was utterly silent once more before he exhaled in a single, shaking breath and sagged against Martin. “Are you all right?” he asked softly.

“I’m fine,” Martin assured him, and Jon believed him. “Are you okay?”

“Shoulder’s a bit sore,” Jon began, then stopped. He knew that wasn’t what Martin meant. “No.”

“Do you want to sit down?”

“N-not here. Let’s…let’s see if we can get back to—closer to the steps.”

“Okay, sure.” Martin brushed his lips against Jon’s cheek.

Now that Jonah was past them, they didn’t have to be as furtive as they’d been before, but they were still cautious. Jon didn’t dare turn on the torch until they were back in the room they’d been staying in—mercifully undisturbed—with the door closed behind them. The instant he did, however, he stepped back into Martin’s arms. Martin leaned against the door and slid down it until they were seated on the floor, curled around each other and Jon more than half in Martin’s lap. They sat for a long moment like that, catching their breath.

“Want to talk about it?” Martin finally asked.

Jon didn’t, not really, but if they didn’t talk about it now, he knew they never would. He sighed heavily and slid off Martin’s lap, then tucked himself up next to him and rested his head on Martin’s shoulder. Martin stroked his shoulder gently as he waited for Jon to speak.

“Jonah,” he said. “He was—he was looking through the tunnels. I-I didn’t know he ever came down here in our time, but…I think he was looking to see how far Past Me got in his explorations. There’s a—a ring of worms—you remember, Tim mentioned it, and I did in my tape, too?”

“I remember.” Martin’s voice was neutral and calm.

“I think—I think that’s the way to the Panopticon. I think Jane Prentiss was trying to get down there, to—to see what the Eye had at its center. Obviously we’ll never know for sure. I got there when I was doing my explorations, but I don’t think Past Me has. And Tim and Sasha didn’t mention seeing it…I don’t know.” Jon swallowed. “But I-I could see his face, I could…all I could think about was everything he did to us. Not telling us about Sasha, letting Tim suffer just to make my suffering worse. Torturing Melanie, trapping Basira, blackmailing Daisy. Framing me for murder, trying to isolate me, making everything I went through as painful as he could. Using me to end the world. God, everything he did to you. His face when he—” He broke off and pressed his cheek against Martin’s shoulder, grounding himself, reminding himself that Martin was there and alive. He’d survived. They both had. Jonah Magnus hadn’t succeeded in taking everything Jon loved away from him, despite his best efforts. “I wanted to kill him.”

Martin’s arm tightened around Jon’s shoulders, and Jon felt the gentle pressure of his kiss on the top of his head. “But you didn’t.”

“No.” Jon exhaled heavily. There was no censure in Martin’s voice, no annoyance, but he still felt a small surge of guilt. “I—I couldn’t, Martin. I wasn’t—the words weren’t there.”

Martin was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Well, we are in the tunnels—you’re distanced from the Eye. And if Leitner was anywhere nearby, you might’ve been caught in his…weird little bubble or spell or whatever it was, like with that camera.”

“I know, but—”

“And,” Martin continued, as if Jon hadn’t spoken, “you’re hungry. Don’t try to deny it, I know you. You hadn’t had time to find any statements before Jonah came down, and you probably expended more energy than you should have down there, even if you weren’t using the Eye’s powers to do it. We both knew you were probably going to need to be at full capacity to take him out. I’m not surprised you couldn’t do it right now.”

Jon huffed. “And you’re just…okay with that?”

“Honestly? No. If I’d had a more mundane weapon, I can’t promise I wouldn’t have tried to pull a Melanie on him,” Martin replied. Jon laughed, a bit unwillingly, at the turn of phrase. “You’re not the only one who wants to kill him for everything he’s done, you know. I wanted that even before…you know, the end of the world. All the reasons you said and then some. Like you told the others that first night…I’m not fond of anything that tries to take the people I love away from me, and you’re at the top of that list. But as much as I want him dead, I don’t blame you for not trying if you weren’t sure you could do it.”

“Really?” Jon looked up at Martin. “Because I do. Blame myself, I mean. I should have—”

Martin cut him off with a gentle, tender kiss that bled the tension from Jon’s body and relaxed whatever he had left that passed for a soul. When Martin pulled back, he rested his forehead against Jon’s. “Jon. Our whole plan depends on catching him off-guard. If he knows we’re coming, we’re doomed. And if we don’t take him out the first time, we’ll never get another chance. Eventually we’re going to have to say ‘we won’t get any more ready than this’, but right now’s not that time.”

Jon couldn’t help the wry chuckle that slipped out of his throat. “When did you develop patience?”

“I didn’t. Believe me. I want this over with as much as you do. Maybe more.” Martin’s free hand came up to rub absently at his chest. Jon reached out to cover it, trapping it against the spot directly over the bullet scars. Martin’s heart beat so strongly Jon could feel it even through Martin’s hand. “But the thing about being blind…if you rush, you’re going to fall, unless you know the space really, really well. You’ve got to take your time and be sure you know the way.”

“Or have help.”

“Or have help,” Martin agreed. “I have you. You have me. We’ll figure this out together, Jon. I won’t pretend I’m okay with Jonah still being out there, still…able to mess with their lives, but I am okay with waiting until we’re sure it’ll stick, and not kill anyone else in the process.”

Jon wondered, as he often did, how he’d been so lucky as to have this man in his life, let alone love him this much. “We can do it. I know we can do it. I-it just…wasn’t the right time. I just didn’t want you to think…”

Martin frowned. “Think what? That you’d changed your mind? That you didn’t think he—God, Jon, I know you better than that.”

“I worry,” Jon confessed softly, dropping his head heavily back onto Martin’s shoulder. “Not about what you think of me, I know you better than that, but…I worry that I’ll lose myself so much to the Eye, to the fears, that I’ll…think he’s right. Let him live. Try to come up with another way o-or something like that. My God, he almost killed you right in front of me and—” He broke off and curled tightly into Martin; Martin pulled him into a tight embrace. “I-if I ever got to the point where I could ignore that…”

Martin was silent for a long time. At last, he said in a soft, incredibly serious voice, “Jon. If you ever got to the point where you genuinely believed him, where you’d honestly gone over to his side? I would kill you myself.”

Jon let those words flow through him, let himself seriously examine each one. They were spoken seriously and sincerely. Martin wasn’t joking, wasn’t making a darkly humorous quip or a hyperbolic suggestion. A small pool of fear Jon hadn’t even realized was locked away inside him flooded out in a single, drawn-out sigh.

“Promise?”

[therandomfics]

TMA: 3

When you thought about it, maybe there was a small chance that Peter was just looking for someone to share his concerns with; another human being with his same plight. You could definitely understand that point of view, because you felt very similar. You’d dated here and there and found yourself finding that there was a lot to be desired in the world of finding companionship, and it wasn’t even as though you were narrowing searches. It just wasn’t easy to find someone who could handle your ups and downs the way that someone who’d experienced a situation like yours would be able. 

There had been Brandon, everything you thought you wanted but ultimately very shallow. Abhi was kind and patient but he wanted things to progress much more quickly than you; it ended amicably. Jeff was only around for a good time, and that was fun until you hit rock bottom. You’d even met a guy named Chris, a friend of a friend, and he proved to be too needy, if that was even something fathomable anymore. 

And then, there was Peter. 

Yes, he was handsome, he was articulate, he was stoic and you wanted to learn more about him. But, he was part of your group, and that made him irrevocably off limits unless one of you chose to leave. In addition to that minor difficulty, he was a co-worker of some of your friends, which meant if things ended poorly for any reason at all, it would be complicated and admittedly kind of stupid. 

You weren’t even sure why you’d thought about it in such detail. Peter was out of your league in a major way. 

_________

When 6PM showed its face, you found yourself sitting at a small table by the window of a busy street, patiently waiting for Peter to arrive. You were anxious, yes, and you were hoping that it wouldn’t be too obvious to Peter when he showed up. Your phone vibrated a moment later and it was Sonny, asking if your date was going well. 

Y/N: He isn’t here yet. 

SC: Did you call him?

Y/N: He’s literally only 3 minutes late, Sonny.... 

SC: Is he standing you up?

Y/N: It’s a meeting. I hate you. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Peter was standing by the chair meant to be his, smiling warmly. You felt a sinking feeling in your stomach when your eyes met his, like you were drowning but you didn’t want any help. 

“No, it’s really fine,” you said quickly and put your phone facedown on the table. “I’m glad you could make it. How was your day?” 

“It was good. To be honest I was just really distracted thinking about coming here later,” he admitted and hesitated to sit down. “Hey, what can I get you? Then we’ll sit and chat.” 

“Surprise me?” you suggested with a smile. “I have zero allergies, so you have free reign.” 

He nodded and headed to the counter, returning a few minutes later with two bowls and two spoons, which he sat on the table. They looked exactly alike, but you had no idea what they were. “Chestnut, and chestnut,” he said as he sat down across from you. “I couldn’t decide. I hope this is fine. I can get you something else?” 

You shook your head and pulled your bowl closer, grabbing a spoon and taking a bite of the curious new flavor. It was different, but not horrible. “Thank you, Peter,” you said in reference to your treat. “Why were you so distracted thinking about coming here? I hope you’re not nervous. It’s really just like group but less formal and I guess, better food.” 

He laughed and shrugged, averting his eyes from yours. It frustrated you slightly to realize that he wasn’t being forthcoming, but you needed to stop worrying about what Sonny had said and focus more on what Peter needed as someone in a grieving situation. “Can I be honest?” 

“Please.” 

He sighed and pulled his phone out, sliding it across the table. It was a message thread from Sonny. 

SC: What’s going on tonight?

PS: Meeting for group.

SC: It’s not group night.

PS: With Y/N. She’s like my mentor now. 

SC: She’s like your girlfriend?

PS: No. Mentor. 

SC: She’s excited about it.

PS: She is? 

SC: Honestly I think she’s got a thing for you. 

PS: I don’t have time for this... really?

SC: :) 

You read through it and looked up at him with a look of disdain. Immediately, you handed Peter your phone to show a very similar text thread. 

“One day I’m going to snap his neck,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as Peter handed you your phone back. 

“I.. have an idea,” he said carefully, resting his spoon in his bowl. “We should fuck with him.” 

You cursed frequently but tried not to in present company, so to hear him drop such a bomb made you jump. “O-okay, what do you have in mind?” 

He smiled devilishly and leaned back in his chair. “Let’s make him think he’s played cupid. It’d be funny to see him squirm for a while, wouldn’t it? I really doubt he thought we’d compare notes - I think he merely meant to make us both uncomfortable.” 

You leaned back as well and pursed your lips in thought. “He is pretty infuriating, to be honest. Let’s do it. Then we can have a massive, god-awful break up and make him think he’s ruined our lives.” 

“Can you commit to a few months?” 

“Yeah. But we just can’t let anyone in group know what’s going on,” you cautioned, arching a brow in his direction. “That’s my only concern.” 

“Good. Now that you’re my girlfriend, the New York State Bar Association is having their annual dinner next weekend. Sonny’s going to be there, too. I’m.. I’m still not sure why he passed the bar and never.. anyway, it’ll be a good chance to show off. Let’s just not tell him anything until then. If anything be obviously awkward about it,” he suggested, nodded inadvertently in agreement with his plan. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Sonny. Peter and I only met for gelato and then again at group,” you stated factually, holding back a laugh. 

“Precisely.” 

“Great! But on another, much more important note, how are you managing between group visits?” you questioned, taking a bite of your melting desert. 

He shrugged and let out a small sigh. “To be honest, which you said you wanted, other coping mechanisms come into play. I’m working on them, I am, and group is helping, but they’re still there. I’m trying to reel things in. Sonny and I used to grab a drink almost every day after work. Now it’s maybe twice a week instead of five days, which is a good step forward.” 

You nodded in agreement. “All bullshit aside, you can call me anytime you want. I mean that, Peter. It doesn’t matter when or why, if you need someone to talk to, please... just let me know. I understand how difficult it can be when you’re trying to work through a plethora of issues.” 

“Thanks, Y/N,” he said softly and reached across the table to place his hand on top of yours. 

A smile spread across your lips before you could try to stop it from happening. “Of course. Now let’s eat before it’s all melted.”