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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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

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Epilogue: Martin Prime

“…see it into a new era. Please join me in welcoming to the podium the Head of the Magnus Institute of London, Dr. Walter…Kos-ki-e-wicz.”

“Fifteen months and he still can’t pronounce it properly,” Jon whispered under the cover of the applause that followed the introduction.

“He’s better than he used to be,” Martin whispered back, squeezing Jon’s hand gently. “Go make nice.”

Jon lifted Martin’s fingers to his lips and pressed a soft, gentle kiss to the knuckles before pushing back from the long table and getting to his feet. Martin turned his head towards where the podium ought to be, thankful they’d been able to come in early and get the layout of the room so he didn’t look like a complete tit staring off into the wrong direction, as the clapping gradually tapered off into an expectant silence.

“Thank you, Mr. Campbell.” Jon popped the normally silent P with a dry, pointed humor Martin knew well. When the laughter had died down, he continued in the deep, rolling affectation he had begun adopting when he needed to act as the face of the Institute. “Friends, colleagues, distinguished guests. I stand before you tonight with the awesome and humbling privilege of thanking you all for coming to celebrate two hundred years of the Magnus Institute.”

Martin, who had listened to Jon practice this speech in the comfort of their living room at least twenty times in the last two weeks, let it fade into the background and settled back into his seat. Not being able to scan the assembled gathering was annoying, but while this might have been the largest event they had attended in the past year, it was by no means the first. He was used to having to fold his hands over his stomach, or the end of his cane, and imagine what everyone’s faces were doing.

A familiar whirring started up from the space Jon had vacated, and Martin smiled and laid his fingers on the tape recorder as it buzzed away. Somehow, it was comforting to know she was still listening, even now.

It hadn’t been easy getting to this point. Martin had never really actually expected killing Jonah Magnus to instantly make everything sunshine and roses again, but he definitely hadn’t expected the attempt to drain Jon so badly that he collapsed in his arms. Nor had he expected that it would take three days for him to open his eyes again. (Melanie had teased Jon a bit about “taking this whole Messiah Complex to extremes”, but even she’d been strained.) And the news from Great Yarmouth hadn’t helped matters. Martin was still kind of thankful that he hadn’t been able to see Sasha’s face when she got off the phone with Basira and reported what little she knew. Or the look on his counterpart’s face when he called and filled in the gaps thirty-six hours later. Martin had hoped they’d get out of the building before blowing it up, but at least they hadn’t gone into the Unknowing itself.

It had still been touch and go, though, and Tim was still adjusting to his new reality, but thankfully he had plenty of support. Martin could hear in their voices when they spoke that they were happy, in a way he was only just learning himself that he could be.

Jon made a surprisingly good Institute Head. It hadn’t necessarily been something he’d planned on, but when they got back from taking Charlie to see Present Jon and Present Martin—who refused to leave the hospital until Tim was awake and ready to come home himself—and Melanie informed him about the new temporary head, Jon had almost literally hit the roof and stormed the Institute himself. It had taken him two days to manage to get an audience with Peter Lukas, but in the end, he’d stood before him and informed him that he had a choice: Vacate his position and leave the Institute alone, or be destroyed utterly.

Peter Lukas, unsurprisingly, had chosen poorly.

For Jon to subsequently take control of the Institute had been Sasha’s idea, and her points—that Jon was bound to the Institute and would need a reason to stay close to it, that he was the only person who knew enough to keep it running and keep it safe, that anyone else would either make things worse or become corrupted by the Beholder—had been valid. She’d crafted an entire identity for both Jon and Martin and somehow managed to have Dr. Walter Koskiewicz declared Elias Bouchard’s sole heir. Publicly, that was who he was and who he remained, but on the day he’d assumed the position of Institute Head, he had called a meeting of all the department heads and bluntly, concisely, and completely told them the entire truth. He had left it up to each head whether or not to tell their staff everything—although he was emphatic that they be told about the Eye, at least to some extent—and had made it clear that anyone who wanted to quit would be more than welcome to do so, with full severance; he wouldn’t hold it against anyone who chose to leave. But, as he had told Martin that night when he got back from the Institute, he didn’t want anyone else feeling trapped, or to not know they were working for, essentially, a fear god. He’d been far more surprised than Martin when, out of eighty-seven employees, only three had chosen to leave and one had asked for their job back a week later.

Getting the rest of Elias’s estate had taken longer. Obviously there was no body, so what they technically had was a missing person. Surprisingly, it was Daisy who’d pushed that forward by manufacturing proof that he’d been killed in the explosion at Great Yarmouth, claiming she’d followed him there as part of her hunt for Gertrude Robinson’s murderer. When Tim, freshly back in the Archives, looked over the assortment of tapes that had previously been in the tunnels and unerringly plucked the one with Gertrude’s death on it, Daisy’s superiors decided that he was responsible for the House of Wax as well, closed both files, and declared him officially dead.

Jon told Martin that Jonah Magnus had terrible taste in interior decorating. Martin told him he would just have to take his word for it.

Martin tuned back into Jon’s speech as he caught the words that meant he was winding down. He’d been reluctant to agree to this event, especially given what today was, but it was expected, so he’d caved, with a few stipulations. The speech, unfortunately for Jon, was non-negotiable, but at least he was able to keep it fairly short.

“And so, as we move into our third century, I leave you with a few carefully chosen words,” Jon said. “To our Institute donors, I give these words: Thank you for your support of the Magnus Institute over the years, and I hope that you will continue to support us throughout the changes to come. To those who come to the Institute to study and learn, I give these words: Your work furthers ours as much as ours furthers yours, and we look forward to working with you and developing that relationship, now and well into the future. And to you, the Institute employees, those who make this Institute what it is, I give these words…” He paused for a moment, letting the suspense build, and Martin licked the corner of his mouth to hide his smirk. It was obvious from Jon’s voice, though, that he wasn’t bothering to hide his own. “Three-day weekend. See you all on Monday.”

The cheers, applause, and laughter nearly drowned out Jon’s “Thank you”, and Martin let his grin escape as he joined in the applause. He heard the rustling of fabric and guessed what was happening a split-second before Wade’s tap to his elbow told him for sure they were giving Jon a standing ovation.

It went on for nearly a minute solid before it started to die down, and as Martin slowly sank back into his seat, he felt Jon’s gloved fingers tangle in his.

“Almost done,” Martin murmured, knowing Jon was close to his breaking point but would never admit it.

There were a few closing remarks, and then footsteps came over to them. “All right, if you’ll just stand over this way and greet a few people…”

“No more than half an hour. I mean it, Harrison,” Jon warned.

“I know, Mr.—I mean Dr.—uh, sir,” Harrison stammered. “I promise.”

“Mister Doctor Sir?” Martin teased Jon as Harrison walked away. “Sounds like something you’d name a character in Spire.”

“That’s Mister Doctor Director Sir to you.”

They shared a laugh before Martin took a half-step back, cane folded up in one hand and his other resting discreetly against the small of Jon’s back. Jon took a deep breath and straightened himself up, but didn’t move away from the point of contact. They’d learned their lesson one of the first times Jon had had to do an official event. Martin did some of the bookkeeping and budgeting for the Institute—God knew he’d picked up enough being Peter Lukas’s assistant, and Jon knew bugger all about the business side of things—but for the most part, he wasn’t an employee and certainly wasn’t who the more important guests at these events wanted to talk to, so he’d stepped back and stayed quietly in the background. Unfortunately, the Lukases were still Institute donors, and even if they avoided Jon beyond the bare minimum that politeness dictated, the presence of even one was still enough for Martin to slip back into old habits. Thank God the bond Annabelle had put on them was still extant and he’d been able to pull himself back, but it had still been a scary few minutes for both of them.

Most of the donors who spoke to Jon—briefly, Harrison was being as good as his word about limiting the official greetings—either ignored Martin or only acknowledged him with a silent nod, which amounted to the same thing. For the most part, Martin didn’t mind, but he could tell it was getting to Jon long before the fifteen-minute mark.

“Last one, sir, I promise,” Harrison whispered at last.

“Harrison, I have told you about the ‘sir’ thing,” Jon muttered. Martin hastily turned his laugh into a cough.

“Dr. Koskiewicz, so good to see you again.” Martin couldn’t place the speaker’s voice except that it was posh, which meant it was an Institute donor, and loud. Probably belonged to a large man, almost certainly an older one.

“It’s an honor to have you here, Sir Henry,” Jon replied, his voice slightly strained. Martin guessed that the man had a very firm handshake; an ordinary hand would be swollen and sore after half an hour of shaking, but the scarring on Jon’s made it far worse. “And you as well, Lady Vane-Tempest.”

“Lovely party, darling, so kind of you to invite us,” Lady Vane-Tempest said. Her voice, at least, Martin couldn’t forget—well-bred, but harsh and grating at the same time. He’d met the Vane-Tempests at the Christmas “party” he’d been forced to run on behalf of Peter Lukas and had not enjoyed the experience. “Congratulations on two hundred years. Obviously you haven’t been here the whole time, of course!” She trilled with laughter.

Martin felt Jon stiffen, and then he said with forced politeness, “Thank whatever gods you believe in that I haven’t, madam.”

“Looking forward to touring the building,” Sir Henry said. “Understand you’ve got some new interesting new acquisitions in your Artifact Storage. Love to see them.”

“We’re not doing tours this evening, I’m afraid,” Jon said. “That was the end of the gala, but it’s good of you to come. If you’ll get in touch with Ms. Zampano, I’m sure we can arrange a suitable time for you to see the building.”

“Oh, come now, darling, surely you can spare some time now,” Lady Vane-Tempest coaxed. If Martin was any judge, she’d been imbibing freely of the champagne, enough to get at least slightly tipsy. “We’re so looking forward to it.”

“I do apologize, but I have another commitment this evening.” Martin was a bit startled when Jon’s arm slid around his waist, but he willingly shifted his own position to return the gesture. The smile in Jon’s voice was obvious; he’d never been very good at hiding his pride and delight in anything to do with their relationship. “It’s our first wedding anniversary, you see.”

The Vane-Tempests mumbled polite congratulations, wished Jon a good night, and moved away. Jon let out a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his toes and sagged against Martin. “Thank God that’s over with.”

“That’s the last one,” Harrison promised. “I’ll just go say a few words to the press. Have a good weekend and—um—happy anniversary?”

“Thank you,” Jon and Martin said in unison. Martin unfolded his cane, and they walked out of the Institute the same way they had since escaping Peter Lukas in their own time—arm in arm.

Ninety minutes later and Martin, wearing his most comfortable sweater and a soft, threadbare pair of jeans, walked into the room they had designated as the “living room” with two mugs of tea and set them on the heavy, solid coffee table. “How’s the hand?”

“Still a bit sore, but I’ll recover.” Jon’s voice sounded slightly muffled. Martin wasn’t sure why until he heard the soft crackle of burning wood, and then Jon was right next to him and pulling him down for a kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Martin murmured, brushing his nose against Jon’s. As he pulled back, he added, “By the way, there was a message from the agency. They’re coming by for another assessment tomorrow, around noon.”

“Good thing I gave everyone the day off, then. Did she say anything about how the application is looking?”

“I don’t know that they’d tell us that on a message. We can ask when she gets here.”

The doorbell rang with the deep, sonorous tones Martin still privately felt belonged in a Gothic soap opera, and Jon sighed and slid out of Martin’s arms. “Bets on who got here first?”

“Not against you,” Martin informed him. Jon’s snickers followed him out of the room.

After more than a year of living in the house, Martin knew his way around by heart, especially after they redid the flooring so that he could tell by the texture beneath his feet which way he was heading. He made it to the front door without bumping into anything, made sure the chain was still secure, and pulled the door open to the length of the chain. “Who goes there?”

“Just the usual suspects,” Tim’s voice said. “We even found a Sasha rattling around in the gutters.”

“Shut up, Tim,” Sasha said, a bit grouchily.

Martin chuckled and closed the door enough that he could undo the chain, then pulled the door open. “Come on in. There’s a fire going.”

Each one of them gave him a hug as they came in, prefaced by a greeting so he’d know who he was hugging. He was pleasantly surprised when, after a fierce hug from Melanie, he heard a higher voice say, “It’s Georgie. Will you accept one from me?”

“Oh, sure, of course.” Martin hadn’t worried about any of Jon’s exes, or anyone who might possibly catch his interest and remind him that he could do better, since—well, actually, since they’d been reunited after traveling back in time, but the weight of the ring on his left hand and the memory of the tremble in Jon’s voice as he’d promised ‘til death comes for us both had finally quieted the last of his doubts. And Georgie did give good hugs. “Glad you could make it, Georgie. Anyone else?”

“No, Basira pulled a night shift tonight, I think. Here, let me get that.” Georgie—or someone, anyway—pulled the heavy door shut and slid the chain into place. “Hope we’re not too early.”

Martin shook his head. “You’re fine. Not like we’re doing anything particularly exciting.”

It took a few minutes of arranging, playful debates, and mostly-joking grumblings about getting those disgusting socks away from the food, Timothy Stoker, but soon everyone was settled down with something to drink and a baked good from the basket the others had brought with them. Jon sighed with obvious pleasure and curled up against Martin’s side; Martin wrapped an arm around him and held him close.

“Where’s Charlie tonight?” he asked.

“Late rehearsal, and Sasha’s uncle offered to pick him up and watch him after,” Present Jon answered. “We’d have brought him along, but he’s got a maths exam tomorrow and I know he’s not ready for it.”

Tim laughed. “Come on, Jon, cut him some slack. He’s doing much better this term than he did in the spring.”

“To be fair,” Melanie pointed out, “there was kind of a lot going on in the spring.”

There was a hum of agreement before Georgie added, “From everything you lot told me, I didn’t expect that grandmother of his to fight you so hard on custody.”

Present Martin sighed heavily. “I did. I mean, the last thing she wanted was for people to think she was a terrible guardian, you know? Even if Children’s Services didn’t get involved and take him away, the very fact that someone else dared ask to take him—and the fact that Charlie wanted to go…”

“And the fact that you kept insisting on referring to him as him, despite the fact that she has consistently and for his entire life refused to accept that he’s a boy,” Sasha put in. “She’s a poisonous old witch and he’s lucky to be shed of her. But yeah, between that and the fact that he got anxious and panicky and afraid to let any of you out of his sight—you know, at the beginning of April—it’s no wonder he came close to failing the spring term.”

There was a short pause before Present Martin asked carefully, “Did he tell you that, or…?”

“Oh, goddammit,” Sasha sighed. “He didn’t say anything to any of you about that, did he?”

“No, but we should have noticed,” Present Jon said quietly.

Melanie snorted. “I’m not sure how you would have, considering how clingy the three of you were being.”

Martin tightened his arms around Jon as the Archives crew began bickering, mostly lightheartedly but with an undercurrent of seriousness. During their first time experiencing…well, everything they had experienced…he and Jon had never really had a chance to stop and consider anniversaries. The one-year anniversary of Jane Prentiss attacking the Institute had fallen while they were trying to get ready for the Unknowing; the one-year anniversary of that had been while Martin was still having to avoid Jon, but he remembered staring at his reflection in the mirror and wondering if he would be better off calling out of work or if he should go in and lurk in the shadows of the Archives to reassure himself that Jon was actually still there. Passing the anniversaries—or, for that matter, the dates themselves—in a timeline where they didn’t technically happen hadn’t made things significantly better, so he could definitely understand why the present crew had been reluctant to be far from each other a year after so nearly losing one another, and more particularly nearly losing Tim.

Jon sank against him, also clinging tightly, and let the banter go on for a bit before he broke in. “Have you told Charlie about the trip?”

“We’re going to surprise him after school tomorrow,” Tim said, and Martin was pretty sure he could hear the relief in it. “Hope he likes the plan. He’s been asking to come with us the next time we go out of town since Jon got back from Jonah’s little hell-quest, and I don’t think he’s ever been out of London.”

“Well…you weren’t conscious at the time, but they did bring him to visit while you were…” Present Jon’s voice trailed off.

Martin was about to say something when something solid and heavy hit his leg on four tiny pressure points and screamed. Only six months of practice enabled him not to jump completely out of his skin. “Hello, Duchess.”

“Oh, damn, I didn’t feed them before the gala.” Jon carefully disentangled himself from Martin and removed the solid iron weight masquerading as a ball of fur from his lap. “Come along, Your Grace. What have you done with your sister?”

Martin couldn’t help the soft smile that touched his lips as he stared off in the direction Jon had gone. Hearing him talk to the cats in that tone of voice always did something funny to his insides.

The smirk in Melanie’s voice was obvious. “I genuinely can’t decide which one of you is going to be the bigger pushover when you get approved to adopt.”

“Have you heard anything yet?” Present Martin asked.

“There’s another visit scheduled tomorrow. We’re almost four months into this part of the process. I’m hoping we’ll have an answer soon.” Martin picked up his mug of tea and took a sip. It had started to cool a bit, but it was still drinkable. “Not that we’re in a hurry or anything, but it’d be nice to know, you know?”

“I could probably poke at your social worker’s mind and see if they have an answer,” Sasha offered. “It’d be easy.”

“Sasha, we’ve talked about this,” Present Jon said with an audible frown.

“Yeah, if I can manage to keep myself under control…” Tim trailed off. “Sorry, Georgie. I know you’d rather we didn’t talk about it.”

“It’s fine,” Georgie said with a sigh. “I’m getting used to it. It’s not like any of you can just…stop being what you are. Did—um—did your Georgie have a problem with it?”

It was the first time she’d asked about her past self since being introduced to Jon and Martin over a year ago, and Martin couldn’t explain why it felt so weird. “She did. At first, anyway. But I think it was less the whole…supernatural fear thing and more the fact that we—and particularly Jon—kept acting like nothing was wrong.”

“Yeah. At least you lot admit this is messed up.”

“Not so much the admitting it’s messed up as trying from the get-go not to play into it,” Jon’s voice said from the direction of the kitchen. The loveseat bounced slightly—very slightly—as he sat down, leaned into Martin’s side, and kissed his cheek. “Your cat is a menace.”

“Why is she only my cat when she’s misbehaving?” Martin teased, turning his head to capture Jon’s lips with his own before they moved away. “What’s Cosmic done now?”

“Just the fact that you know it was Cosmic Creepers—”

“The Duchess has made it very clear that she’s your cat.”

Sasha gave a mock-groan. “You two as actual parents are going to be insufferable.”

Melanie’s snort was practically elephantine. “Like you don’t have the three of these with Charlie as evidence for that.”

Martin sensed the remark calculated to cause maximum chaos coming before Tim opened his mouth, but there was nothing he could do to head him off. “So, Melanie, when are you and Georgie going to add a bundle of joy to your family?”

The resultant storm of profanity and invective directed at Tim sent Jon into paroxysms of laughter, and from the sound of it, Present Jon as well. Martin could imagine Tim’s triumphant, shit-eating grin. Even Sasha was giggling.

“Seriously. I don’t even want more than one cat,” Georgie finally said when the chaos wound down. “Children have never been in my plans. Not even remotely.”

“Have you ever thought about fostering?” Present Martin asked. “Teens, maybe? I bet you’d be good at it.”

A short silence followed the question, and when Melanie answered, there was a note of surprise in her voice. “Maybe. Not right now, though.”

“I guess my question is—and please, none of you take this the wrong way—why would you want to involve a child in the…life you’re all leading?” Georgie asked. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

“No more than being a child is dangerous anyway,” Jon said. “Most of the fears don’t…a child’s fear isn’t fully formed, so it’s not as satisfying, but that doesn’t mean they don’t pay attention. I was marked young. So was Annabelle Cane. Callum Brodie was on the Dark’s radar long before Rayner chose him as a vessel. A-apparently the End was paying attention to all of us before my father died. A child being taken care of by someone who knows what’s out there, and isn’t…enamored with it, I suppose, stands a better chance than a child wholly unprepared.”

Martin rubbed Jon’s arm. “Besides. The more connections you have outside the Archives, the harder it is for the Fears to…use you. I guess. Even besides the Lonely, the more isolated you are, the easier you are to hurt.”

“I never thought of it that way,” Present Jon said, sounding like he was talking half to himself. “But it does make sense why Jonah tried so hard to pit us against one another. A person with no support is far more vulnerable. Far easier to use and manipulate.”

“And that’s what beat him in the end,” Melanie said. “Good riddance to bad rubbish.”

“Hear, hear.” Martin raised his mug in salute. Someone clinked a mug or glass against it, and the conversation drifted to other, less volatile topics.

They’d done this a lot over the last year. Ever since Jon, or his alter ego, had officially inherited the estate, they spent more evenings and weekends here than they did in Tim, Present Martin, and Present Jon’s house. First there’d been the intense repainting and redecorating period, during which Martin had offered deadpan commentary on color choices until Jon threatened to paint his mouth shut and Tim had unearthed more than a few artifacts belonging to other entities in various nooks and crannies. Once they were settled in, there had been pizza and pasta-making parties, movie marathons, drinks after hard weeks, and game nights. They’d come over to wrestle the garden into submission in the spring, helped decorate the house for Christmas, and watched fireworks on New Year’s from the widow’s walk on the roof. Jon had even organized an Easter Egg hunt for the neighborhood children, which had been when Martin had finally broached the idea of reaching out to the local authority about beginning the adoption process.

And exactly one year ago tonight, they had stood in the drawing room they never otherwise used and finally, finally made the bond between them a legal one.

“I can’t believe you two are spending your anniversary like this,” Sasha said, and if Martin didn’t know for a fact that she couldn’t read his mind beyond finding a back door into his dreams when Jon’s lay alongside her, he’d have told her off for it. “You’re such hopeless romantics, I expected you to go out for a candlelit dinner somewhere. Moonlit stroll in the park. Kissing under the stars.”

“It’s Thursday,” Martin reminded her.

“We’re going to Scotland for the weekend,” Jon said. “That’s part of the reason I gave everyone a three-day weekend, so we could get an early start and make the most of it.”

“I accuse you of abusing your position for your own gain,” Georgie said, but she was laughing as she did so.

“I’ll confess to that,” Jon replied immediately. Martin couldn’t help but laugh. “But seriously, we—it’s going to be a nice, relaxing weekend, but we thought spending the evening with our family would be a good start.”

Something thumped down on the coffee table. Martin guessed it was Melanie’s glass. “You know what I can’t believe? That you picked the eighteenth of October to get married. I mean, you know literally everything in the world, and certainly everything about the Institute. You had to know that was the day the Institute was founded. And then you had to spend your first anniversary making nice with the donors. Why would you do that?”

Martin looked in Jon’s direction. “You want to tell them, or shall I?”

Jon sighed heavily and dropped his head to Martin’s shoulder. “You go ahead. I’d rather not say it out loud.”

“Uh-oh.” Tim sounded worried. “This is…what happened on the eighteenth of October, 2017 in your timeline?”

“Bugger all,” Martin replied. “It was today. In our original timeline, this was when Jonah slipped his ritual into a statement and fed it to Jon against his will. Eighteenth October, 2018.” He ran his hand through Jon’s hair, which had fallen out of its braid. “We didn’t want to wait until this year to get married, but we’d already agreed that we wanted it to be the eighteenth. We wanted to take back the day Jonah Magnus tried to ruin and make it ours.”

“To replace the memories,” Present Martin said softly.

“Exactly. He’s taken too damn much from us already. We’re not letting him have everything.” Martin pressed a kiss to the top of Jon’s head.

“So where in Scotland are you going?” Present Jon asked.

“John O’Groats. It’s—Daisy used to have a safehouse up there,” Jon explained. “Well, she still has the house, but she’s just renting it out to vacationers these days. She told us we could use it for free a couple times a year as a thank-you for helping her get the Hunt under control.”

“Yeah, Basira says she’s a lot more relaxed than she was when she was a cop,” Sasha said. “If you can believe it. Is that where you two stayed…um, up until the eighteenth of October?”

“Yep.” Martin popped the P in a method that, he hoped, would indicate the subject is closed and you should not push further, Sasha James.

Thankfully, it seemed to work. Georgie was the next to speak up. “What about you three? Do you have plans for your trip to America or is it just more of a ramble?”

“We were planning to visit Boston,” Present Martin answered. “Lots of history, lots of walking trails, lots of potentially haunted stuff. But…well, Jon changed things around a couple weeks ago and he’s been vague about what we’re doing now.”

“Oh.” Present Jon sounded both embarrassed and excited. “I—ah—I’m sorry, I got so…I completely forgot I hadn’t told you. I managed to track down my cousin. You know, the one I stayed with for a bit before starting uni? He moved to a new town about the time I started at the Institute, actually. Apparently he’s married now. His husband sounds…um, interesting. And he wants to meet you two—and Charlie, too. I actually managed to get us tickets out there. I—I hope you don’t mind.”

“Mind getting the chance to meet a relative that not only doesn’t hate you, but doesn’t care you’re in a relationship with two other men and is excited about the idea of meeting us? Of course we do, it sounds horrific, why would you do something like that,” Tim said flatly. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jon, we’d love to meet your cousin.”

“It’ll be fun,” Present Martin agreed. “Did you ever…I mean, have you met him?”

It took Martin a second to realize the question was directed at him. “Honestly, until you all started talking about him, I didn’t even know Jon had a cousin.”

“I’d love to see him again,” Jon said, a bit wistfully. “I do miss him. I suppose asking you to pass on my best wishes would be a little much, but…”

“I’m going to tell him,” Present Jon said softly. “About all of this. I think he deserves to know, and…I think he can handle it.”

“Well. Give me a call if you get the chance. I’d love to talk to him.”

“Of course.” Present Jon hesitated. “I—um, I think he might have a couple…statements. Something about the way he said ‘scientifically interesting’ when talking about the town. I’m going to tell him about…this, and us, and what we can do. Let him decide if he wants to share.”

Jon made a slightly pained noise, but Martin rubbed his arm soothingly and said, “You’ll probably need something. At least Tim will. That’s—you’ll be too far from the Institute for too long not to take a statement or two. Better if it’s someone willing, wouldn’t you say?”

Tim took a deep breath. “Does it ever get any easier? Needing to—sensing in your case, or seeing in mine, that someone has a statement, and needing it so badly?”

“Not really,” Jon admitted. “It’s why I don’t go out alone so often. The trouble is that sometimes it helps them and sometimes it…doesn’t, and you can never tell before they tell their stories whether it will or not. The Eye likes it better when it’s…forced, but the Eye can honestly get stuffed. We’re doing this on our terms.”

“Hell yeah,” Tim said with a laugh. Jon leaned forward at Martin’s side, and from the sounds, he guessed they were bumping their fists together.

They spent about another hour together, talking and laughing and generally relaxing. Finally, though, Present Martin asked, “How early were you two planning to head out?”

“Not until early afternoon. The social worker is coming, remember?” Martin shrugged. “But if you lot want to get going…”

“Yes, we—we should probably make sure Charlie’s in bed, and I’m sure Wade is ready to be released,” Present Jon said. There were a number of rustles and creaks as everyone got to their feet, and Martin stood, too, stretching out his spine. “Call us when you get there.”

“We will. Let us know when you get to America,” Jon replied.

“Are you taking the cats, or do you want us to stop by and look after them?” Melanie asked.

Martin paused and looked in Jon’s direction. He could practically feel his thoughts flowing between them, running through the bond Annabelle had put on them like a telegraph wire. “Well, we were going to take them, but…actually, would you mind?”

“Of course not. We’d be delighted,” Georgie said.

Jon squeezed Martin’s waist, then slid away. “Come here, then, let me show you where we keep the food.”

Martin saw the others to the door and handed out another round of hugs. Jon arrived with Georgie just before they pulled away, so was at least able to wave, and he hugged both Georgie and Melanie and thanked them again. And then it was just the two of them, alone in their house, and together.

Jon shut and latched the door, then took Martin’s hand. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh?”

“Mm-hmm. Close your eyes and follow me.”

Martin smiled more broadly, but he did as Jon asked. Jon led him through the house and up three flights of stairs. It somehow didn’t surprise Martin when Jon pushed open a final door and he heard the soft sounds of an autumn evening.

“Stargazing?” he teased.

“It is a good night for it,” Jon said, not rising to the bait. “But no, not what I had in mind.” He tugged Martin forward a few feet, then added, “You can open your eyes now.”

Martin didn’t point out that it wouldn’t do any good; he simply opened his eyes. He could smell roses and peonies, he thought—the same flowers they’d decorated the drawing room with for their wedding. There was a soft click, and a tape recorder began playing—which made him smile—and then Jon was there and holding his hands. “Can I have this dance?”

Martin’s smile broadened as he recognized the song. “For the rest of your life.”

Martin let Jon lead him, singing quietly along with the music as he did so. He was still barefoot and it was a bit cold on the widow’s walk for that, but he didn’t care. It was the song they’d chosen as their first dance at their wedding, something of a fast waltz, but the lyrics had struck both of them as being so very them. As soon as Martin realized that, he also realized that this was probably the tape Tim had made for them to play at their wedding. It had been their way of ensuring that Annabelle, if she was still listening, would be able to be a part of things, too.

They still made a point of shooing out spiders and cleaning out cobwebs, but the tapes? Those could stay.

When the first song was over, rather than let Jon go, Martin simply shifted his grip and took the lead for the second song on the tape—the first song they had ever danced to, in Tim and Present Martin and Present Jon’s kitchen the night they’d moved in. He pulled Jon closer, letting their foreheads touch, and sang along to that one as well. He could feel Jon shiver in his arms and knew, knew, it wasn’t the cold that was doing it.

They slowed to a stop just before the song ended. Jon slid his arms around Martin’s neck and simply held him; Martin wrapped his around Jon’s waist and pulled him even closer until their bodies were flush, until they were practically fused into a single person.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“I love you, too,” Jon whispered back. “Happy anniversary, Martin.”

“Happy anniversary.” Martin leaned forward and kissed him thoroughly.

Jon kissed him back, deeply and intensely and with all the emotions they had built up between them over the years: loneliness and desperation and fear, love and tenderness and hope. They had fought their damnedest for a moment they thought would never come, and now that it had, Martin was going to savor it. This and every other moment that ever could be.

At last, the need for air forced them to separate, and Jon laughed quietly. “You know what I didn’t think through about this?”

“We’re still barefoot?” Martin guessed.

“We are still barefoot,” Jon agreed. “And I’m still rather…worn out from the day. What do you say we go inside, shut the cats in their room for the night, and make use of that oversized tub in the downstairs bath?”

“I think that sounds like an excellent idea,” Martin said. He kissed Jon again, very softly, and then stepped back. “Lead on, Mr. Blackwood-Sims.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. Blackwood-Sims,” Jon drawled. He stopped the tape with a gentle click, then laced his fingers through Martin’s, the metal of his wedding band smooth and cool against his fingers as it rolled over the webbing between them. “Come on, my love.”

Hand-in-hand, Martin and Jon, the man he’d loved for years, the man he’d fought for, fought with, the reason he had survived apocalypse after apocalypse, his anchor—his husband—turned away from the world they had somehow managed to save and into their home, into the future they had made.

Together.

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonmartim #I am glad to be with you here at the end of all things #god I can't believe this is OVER

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bracefacefreak · 3 years

Text

So I just finished the first fic I have written in AGES and the first thing I’ve ever written for TMA, so I thought I’d post it here.

It’s an alternate take on S3 from about MAG 98 in which Nikola kidnaps Martin, not Jon. Basically very angsty with some realisation of feelings and implied canon-typical violence because I like to make my boys suffer apparently. May write more if I feel like it but for now this is just a peek at my idea.

CW: implied violence, knife violence, strongly implied graphic violence, implied blood, implied skinning, captivity and kidnapping, restraints, stalking.

I cut you a piece of me

also available on ao3

“Martin? Tim?”

Jon pokes his head out of his office, tired eyes squinting through murky lenses to try and make out anything moving amongst the shelves and teetering boxes. A chill creeps up his spine, the sensation akin to the slow tickle of spider’s legs over his skin. It makes his stomach turn; the sour taste of bile rises at the back of his throat. A light flickers somewhere on the other side of the archives. It is brief, likely nothing more than some dodgy wiring - or a plastic body passing in front of a bulb. Jon bites down, catching his tongue between his teeth.

His fingers twist in the wool of the cardigan he wears, tugging at the well-worn fibres as if they are some sort of lifeline. The garment is too big on him, the fabric spilling over his shoulders and bunching in thick folds around his wrists. He had found it shoved under a shelving unit in document storage, the crumpled, butter-yellow lump too inviting to ignore. It has quickly become a comfort for him during long nights in his office poring over statements, something soft and warm to counteract the increasingly dark world he finds himself inhabiting. He pulls it tight around him, but finds today it offers little more than a thin veneer of safety.

CLUNK.

He starts.

His eyes flick towards the stacks to his left, scouring the shadows that rest heavily between the shelves. The noise comes again, more drawn out this time and followed by a series of metallic taps. It doesn’t take much imagination to hear the snap of huge, mechanical jaws in the rhythmic sound.

Jon swallows thickly.

“Martin? I-is that you?”

The hollow clang comes again; this time Jon is able to trace it to somewhere above. Lifting his eyes, he half-expects to see a grinning plastic face staring down at him from the highest shelves. Instead, he is met by the sight of decrepit pipes, quivering slightly as the ancient heating system struggles against the pervasive chill. His shoulders droop as the pipes rattle in reassurance.

Slowly, he turns back to the original source of his suspicion, staring down the narrow walkway that leads to the assistant’s office and break-room.

Beneath the occasional clang of the heating, the archive is silent, still.

But he could have sworn he’d heard footsteps earlier: the soft shuffle of shoes over carpet and the squeak of the bottom stair that no-one seems bothered enough to fix, despite the numerous emails Jon has sent to maintenance. He had been recording a statement, one from the early 2000s about disappearances from a travelling funhouse, when he had heard it. He was certain. But then again…He takes a shaking breath; could this just be his rearing its ugly head?

No.

NO.

He was over that.

He knew what he had heard. Jon squares his shoulders, knowing that his small stature and bright yellow cardigan will hardly strike fear into the heart of any evil creature that has managed to get into the Institute. He pulls the pen out of his hair anyway. It will not be much use if it comes to a struggle, but it is better than nothing.

Measured steps lead Jon across the archive floor.

He calls out in a tight voice, rising to shrill at the end.

“Melanie?”

His pulse thuds in his ears.

“Tim? Basira?"

Sweat coats his palms and pools in the well of his clavicle, turning cold and tacky.

“Martin?”

He rounds a corner and is greeted by three empty desks.

Since arriving, Melanie has settled at Sasha’s old desk; it no longer bears its previous look of organised chaos but is strewn with shredded paper, a few crumpled fast-food wrappers, and pages covered in black scribbles that are indecipherable to Jon. It sends a pang of grief through him that echoes around the empty space where Sasha’s memory should be.

Tim’s desk is clear, no work having been done there in months.

And Martin’s is….

Jon frowns.

Next to an empty mug and a collection of pastel fine-liners Martin sometimes uses to make notes, is a cassette tape. It is unmarked, the brand different from any he has seen before in the archive. Jon reaches for it, hesitates, and then snatches it up. He turns it over in his hands, the shape and weight familiar. Something is building beneath his skin, fizzing, crackling, a flurry of static that rises and rises the longer he holds the tape. It calls to him. The white noise is a siren song drawing him in until he is moving towards his office and the tape recorder he keeps on his desk. His hands shake as he pushes the tape into place and snaps the recorder shut. For a moment the world narrows down to the feeling of the play button beneath his finger, its weight as he presses down, the soft whir-like a sigh-as the tape begins to play.

“Hello, my dear archivist.”

The saccharine voice that spews from the tape washes away the frantic desperation that had sent him scurrying to his office like a starving dog. He shivers, the memory of hard plastic hands around his throat making it hard to breathe.

The Eye drinks in this flash of terror, consuming it with abandon.

“It’s so luvely to be able to talk again. I was hoping to see you in person but ….I’m sure we’ll get to that later.”

There’s a tinkling laugh; the sound of fairground chimes, or blood dripping on porcelain.

“I thought now would be a good time to check in about that old skin you’re supposed to be getting for us. Not that I really need to. I am having you followed. It’s not because I don’t trust you but…well, I don’t trust you and I want to be sure that when you find it you don’t do anything silly. It is very powerful after all. I have to say, little archivist, I’m mighty….disappointed….by your lack of progress. It’s been a week now and nothing and I am on a bit of a deadline, you know. The world won’t dance itself new on its own.”

Nikola stops with a breathy gasp.

Jon waits, fingers clenched in the sleeves of his too-big cardigan.

He can make out the creak of plastic, followed by what sounds like a heavy door being opened. He leans in, straining to hear the dull thud of feet on stone. The jaunty melody of carousel music lingers in the background, ever-present and just flat enough to set his teeth on edge.

“Unfortunately for you, that means I need to up the stakes a little. We can’t have you getting complacent, that just won’t do.”

Another grating sound, metal against concrete and then a jumble of muffled grunts, almost as if someone is trying to speak against restraints.

“Do try and keep him quiet.”

Nikola hisses to someone whose response Jon cannot hear.

Something coils in his gut, cold and heavy.

“He spotted one of us outside the Institute one evening, tried to follow us. A rather stupid move if you ask me. You may want to rethink your hiring strategy.”

The mumbling intensifies.

Jon feels sick. His stomach churns, a deep sense that something is very wrong knotting up his insides.

“He seems awfully fond of you, I must say, putting himself in all that danger to try and keep you safe. What on earth did you ever do to deserve such devotion, little archivist?”

He shakes his head, trying to speak around the hard lump in his throat even though he knows Nikola can not hear him.

“P-pl…”

“Would you like to say hello?”

There is a painful ripping sound, then a scraping and a few ragged breaths.

The cold dread in Jon’s gut begins to unfurl, spreading out, freezing him to his chair.

“Jon?”

His heart stutters.

“Jon, p-please….please…d-don’t…”

Martin’s familiar voice, shaking and edged with panic, erupts from the speaker like a scream.

The copper tang of blood spills over his tongue. He looks down, realising he’s been biting his knuckle so hard his skin has split. Even as he watches the blood pool and trickle down his fingers, he feels no pain.

Nikola laughs again, something knife-sharp behind the sweetness.

Jon is cold, so cold, even beneath his tea-scented cardigan. His hands are like ice as he claws at the tape recorder, smearing blood over the plastic casing. He is not sure what he’s trying to do, his thoughts too muddled. He thinks he may be trying to reach through to wherever they are, to wherever Martin is.

“You see archivist, now we have some collateral. So, if you don’t manage to find that ancient relic, well….shall we have a demonstration?”

A strangled whimper is all Jon can manage as he listens to the squeak of plastic fingers, the tearing of fabric, the clear zhing of a blade. His eyes lock onto the tape recorder, transfixed with horror as he hears Martin grunt and then…..

Jon has never heard screaming like that before.

It cuts through him, reverberating down to his bones and settling in his marrow, so deep he will never be rid of it.

At the same time, it drowns him. Each new cry washes over him, relentless, never giving him time to breathe. He is suffocating beneath the sound, helpless and guilt-ridden, hands twitching as if trying to pull himself up for air. He can’t think, can’t speak, can’t breathe – chest too tight, pulse racing. His vision swims, blackness creeping in from the edges as Martin screams and screams and screams.

Jon squeezes his eyes shut, cold tears spilling down his cheeks. He presses his hands over his ears, but no matter how hard he tries he cannot escape it.

It feels like a lifetime before the screaming begins to quiet and an eternity until Nikola speaks again, high and airy.

“Impressive. That was even through a gag. What fun we’re going to have!”

A sob fills the silence, faint and broken. Jon matches it with his own.

Somewhere the Eye swells and glows in gluttonous satisfaction. Jon can feel it preening, brimming over with stolen terror. He shoves it away in disgust.

“Lucky for us there’s plenty of him to use.”

Something slaps wetly. There’s a squelch, like fingers being shoved into dough.

Jon retches.

“This will make a luvely pair of gloves, don’t you think?”

He doubles over, heaving dryly into his wastepaper bin, for once glad he didn’t have lunch. Sweat beads at his hairline, spots dancing in front of his eyes as he gasps around the convulsions of his nauseated body.

“Now now archivist, no point getting upset. The sooner you find us the gorilla skin the more of your assistant there will be left. I wouldn’t wait too long if I were you. Goodbye.”

The voice fades, leaving only panting breaths and pained groans before the recording ends with an abrupt click.

Jon lets it run on while he struggles to find a rhythm to his breathing. The background whir is a comfort, something to dampen the horrific shrieking that still rings in his ears.

Guilt sits heavy on his shoulders, a deadweight. First Sasha and now Martin. How many more people will he fail before the end? Who else will have to suffer because of him? He curls himself up in his chair and tries to consider what he should do, but his thoughts either will not come or fly past too fast to crystalise into an actual plan. Eventually, he gives in to the lingering heaviness of his limbs and the hollowness in his chest and he cries.

---

He isn’t sure how long he sits there.

The tape finally finishes and cuts off with a burst of static and the pop of the play button.

He is sat in silence when Basira finds him, folded up and trying to ignore the screams in his head. Her firm footsteps alert Jon to her presence as he can barely see out of his tear-swollen eyes. Her breathing pauses as she takes a moment to assess the situation.

Jon can picture the scene clearly: he sits, knees to his chest, hands tangled in his greying hair. The tape recorder perches haphazardly on the edge of his desk, smeared with blood that has dried a rich, rust colour. There are gouges in the surface of his desk and matching splinters beneath his fingernails.

“Jon?”

He thrusts out an arm, knocking Basira’s hand out of the way. The tape recorder falls to the floor with a crack, the cassette flies out, magnetic tape spooling on the floor. He stares at it for a moment. At least now she cannot….will not….and he does not have to either.

“Jon!?”

Her voice is clipped, hard. There is no room for argument or bullshit, no hint of concern. He would expect nothing less of Basira, and he has always respected her bluntness and the ability to bury her emotions so she can get the job done. As much as he would like to believe he can do the same, he knows it is a lie. Today has just proven that.

“Jon!?”

He opens his mouth to answer but only manages a strangled whine, which devolves into a sob. He takes a shuddering breath before trying again.

“M-“

It hurts. His throat is raw, almost as if he has been the one screaming. He is not entirely sure he hasn’t been. No one would have heard him all the way down here. He thinks Elias meant for it to be that way.

“Ma-“

The name sticks in his throat, coats his tongue with a sour taste, and lodges itself behind his teeth. He can not say it….does not deserve to say it…Nikola’s words repeat in his head, over and over.

What on earth did you ever do to deserve such devotion?

Jon thinks of all the times he has berated Martin, the mornings he has purposefully left his tea undrunk just to spite him, the cold manner he has used to decline every offer of help or comfort. And still, Martin had smiled, had rinsed out his mug and stubbornly left another on his desk made to his exact taste, had even pushed himself to research the Vittery case, almost risking his life just to try and get a good word out of his boss.

Martin, who writes poetry that overflows with tender melancholy. Martin, who had stayed up into the early hours with Jon while he had been staying in the archives, somehow aware that Jon was alone and afraid. Martin, who had persuaded the ECDC to hand over a jar of Prentiss’ ashes so he would feel safe. Martin, who had made it his mission to ensure Jon got at least one hot meal a day. Martin, who had lied on his CV to help his ailing mum. Martin, with his mop of curls and goofy smile and stupid hipster glasses and…oh…Martin....

Jon buries his nose into the yellow wool at his shoulder, inhaling the faded scent of Early Grey and spearmint toothpaste and lavender laundry detergent. It only leaves him feeling emptier.

Nothing, he wants to shout in reply to Nikola’s question, less than nothing!

“JON! What's going on?”

He sniffs, lifting his eyes to stare blankly down at the ruined tape recorder.

Basira’s gaze flicks to the device, before landing back on Jon.

He shivers, licking his parched lips and forcing the words out, voice cracked and tight.

“M-Martin….I-I need to f-find Martin.”

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bubonickitten · 4 years

Text

Relistening to TMA yet again (new hyperfixation, what can I say), and I can’t emphasize enough how much these early episodes kill me.

Because for a long time, Jon doesn’t realize what he’s becoming. And yeah, that’s obvious -- but it’s even more heartbreaking on a relisten, because he senses that something is off, but from his perspective the changes are so incremental that he doesn’t realize how much he’s changing until he’s in too deep.

He finds himself getting attached to this tape recorder (even when he initially hated it), but tries not to think too hard about that. He’s becoming obsessed with recording everything, and tells himself that he’s doing it for posterity’s sake. Jon is adept at using outward denial to hide his inner, nonstop, overthinking doubt. (Eventually it escalates to full-blown paranoid information gathering, which I think is where the Eye’s influence really starts to show, but more on that later.)

At first, it’s a safe half-lie (or at least not full-truth) to tell himself. He’s an academic, a researcher. He no doubt has a deep appreciation for the preservation of history, for the documentation of human experience -- that part is probably true. It’s how he makes sense of the world (and that started when he was a child, when the main way he interacted with the world was through books). And let’s be honest, the man is a nerd, and (I say this lovingly and with a tendency to infodump myself) he was probably prone to infodumping long before he became the Archivist. (Giving a Wikipedia summary of emulsifiers at a coworker’s birthday party, anyone?)

But beneath all that, Jon is just... scared. And Jonathan Sims comes to fear a lot of things, but one of his first fears was being forgotten. So it’s no wonder he takes so well to the compulsion to record, document, archive.

Makes sense; he was, by his own admission, emotionally neglected as a child. And sometimes harassed. He chalked it up to being “a deeply annoying child,” which -- oof, no wonder he acts like an ass sometimes. Even if he was adept at social interaction (which he’s not), keeping people at arm’s length can feel a lot safer than letting them close and risking rejection when they decide you’re too much to handle.

Point is, being ignored or ostracized was already painful, but it became his normal. Being forgotten, though, would be a existentially terrifying step beyond that.

All of this is put into even starker relief after “A Guest For Mr. Spider.” At 8 years old he witnessed someone get snatched from the world without a trace – someone ten years his senior, who died because he made the choice to torment Jon and just did so at the exact wrong moment (or perhaps right? Maybe the Web decided that early that Jon was more useful alive). But despite the fact that it was his bully, Jon has survivor’s guilt over it. He feels responsible. He admits that it’s illogical for him to think he could have done anything differently—he was eight—but he still comes out of that experience with the fundamental belief that being forgotten would be a unique kind of punishment that he believes even his bully didn’t deserve.

It’s such a raw, vulnerable moment when he finally admits it out loud: “Because I’m scared, Martin!” All that denial was external, and so fragile that it took one panicked moment for him to drop the veneer. But internally? Jokes about his obliviousness aside -- and, yes, in a lot of ways, Jon is that smart dumbass -- he’s got some self-awareness. He’s put two and two together, realized that the “real” statements don’t record digitally. He’s seen the artifact storage. He’s had a Leitner-based trauma, like so many statement givers. He’s just scared and he Does. Not. Want. To. Talk. About. It.

He tries to hide it early on behind a cold, stoic academic demeanor, but that… doesn’t last long, and once that veneer drops, he absolutely spirals into open paranoia and fear. And going forward, he really doesn’t hide his terror much. When he’s threatened, we hear him beg for his life. Even when he thinks the world might be better off without him, he still doesn’t want to die. He’s afraid of death, and after S1, he doesn’t try to pretend otherwise. (I really appreciate a horror protagonist who shows fear even when they’re trying to be brave.)

So, by the end of S1, we get to see him start to admit that his new obsessive behavior is not just a detached academic interest, or his workaholic urge to do his job well. It’s because he’s scared. But beyond that, through S2 and into S3, he starts to admit that beneath that, there’s something else going on. His rapidly escalating paranoia spiral is due to trauma, as well as the realization that Gertrude was murdered, as well as the general sense of uneasiness and distrusts that permeates the Institute (the Eye loves that shit), but also, honestly?? I think this is where the Eye starts to really get a grip on him. The Ceaseless Watcher, the fear of, in Gerry’s words, “needing to know, even if your discoveries might destroy you. The feeling that something, somewhere, is letting you suffer, just so it can watch.”

Beyond the tape recorder obsession, Jon doesn’t seem to notice early on that when he reads statements, it’s almost like he’s in a trance. (I think one of the first episodes where he starts to notice this is actually in MAG 32, when he’s reading Jane Prentiss’ statement. His introduction to the statement is shaky, stilted, like he’s dreading it; when he’s reading Jane Prentiss’ words, it’s like he’s channeling her tone and delivery in a far more extreme way than he has before; and when he’s done, he’s clearly unsettled by the experience.)

(Another thing that stands out to me on a relisten is his tone shift when talking to Elias in MAG 40 -- he has an almost dreamy, trancelike delivery of the line: “Tens of thousands of... things without mouths screaming as one.” Like he’s reliving a flashback, yes, but there’s something else in his delivery of that line that continues to show up in his later spooky-Archivist-powers moments. And Elias pauses, and I can only imagine him thinking in that moment, all smug and conniving, Good. Jon is starting to become The Archivist.)

And, of course, Jon also doesn’t notice when he starts being able to compel statements--which is kind of funny, because my first thought when listening to early statements was, “How are all these statements so detailed and coherent? Did all these statement givers take creative writing classes or something?” But Jon doesn’t really seem to question that at first. It becomes more clear when the archive assistants try to take statements -- the statement givers can’t stay on topic, can’t remember details, can’t relive the moment in the same way they can if they’re forced to through compulsion. Adelard Dekker mentions that in one of his letters to Gertrude, too. It’s also sad, though, because he kept getting accused of forcing people to answer questions when he didn’t realize he was doing it (e.g. his interviews with Basira, Daisy, and Jude).

It’s just... such a gradual downward spiral. And yeah, there’s something tragic about that--and it isn’t going to end well; this is a horror-tragedy story after all--but one of the things I like about Jon is that he works so, so hard to change and become a better person in spite of what the Beholding is trying to turn him into.

I’m getting way off-topic. Basically, Jonny Sims is... very good at character development, and it’s fun to relisten and start to pick out the moments when things start to go wrong, the little details that maybe didn’t stand out so much on my first listen. Admittedly I, much like Jon Sims, have my own little conspiracy corkboard flavor of overthinking, so some of this might just be me reading too far into it. But still, I like all the layers going on here.

#tma meta #the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #tma spoilers #long post #also. in s2. jonathan sims has never had a paranoid episode before and IT SHOWS. he is Not Prepared #don't get me started on neurodivergent jon sims but like. dang. that paranoia spiral #big relatable mood

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imalwaysintune · 4 years

Text

Soft JonMartin

Maybe, He thought, things will be okay for a little while. Inspiration taken from @ggracee ‘s art!

———————————–

Jonny and Martin sat in Martin’s apartment, on the worn leather couch Martin had gotten from his mother. Neither of them said anything, nor were they touching apart from the very tips of their pinky fingers.

Martin had insisted on caring for Jon, bandaging up his wounds and cleaning off the dirt that seemed to cover every inch of him. But Jon had said nothing, simply sitting on the couch and putting his head in his hands. Martin had sat next to him, being careful as to not overwhelm the fragile man sitting on his couch

He waited for Jon to break the silence, and sat there staring at the man he loved instead of using his words. Soon enough Jonny raised his head and looked at Martin, a feeling he had grown familiar with flowing through his chest. He didn’t quite know what it was yet, and The Eye didn’t seem inclined to let him Know.

He smiled. A weak and weary smile that held the weight of the entire world within it, but a smile nonetheless. Martin followed, smiling softly and moving his hand ever so slightly into Jon’s.

For as weak as he looked, Jon was strong. He gripped Martin’s hand tight and the feeling that went through his chest before seemed dull compared to what washed over him now.

Finally he broke the silence.

“Martin, I’m.. I’m sorry. For everything. If I had known this would happen-”

“Jon, please,” Martin pleaded. “You couldn’t have known. None of us knew this was going to happen. None of us knew the Slaughter was going to try and take down the institute again.”

“But if I had just paid attention. If I hadn’t been so hungry, so… so… useless.”

Martin sighed and looked towards the kitchen. The urge to make tea was strong, to do something that would comfort the broken man sitting in front of him. “Everything is okay, Jon. Basira, Daisy, me, you, we’re all okay. Look, why don’t you hop in my shower. Clean all the grub and dirt off you, and I’ll make us some tea and biscuits. Yeah?”

Again, Jon smiled and all at once became aware of how filthy he was. He didn’t want to intrude, but desperately wanted a shower. So he agreed, and made his way down the hall towards the bedroom.

Before, however, he walked into the bathroom at the end of the hall, he passed the door to Martin’s room. Or, what he assumed to be Martin’s room. The door was cracked, and he could see a bed and dresser through the small sliver the door allowed.

He strained to hear what Martin was doing in the kitchen, and heard him whistling ‘Twinkle Twinkle Little Star’ very out of tune. He smiled bigger this time, and slowly pushed the door open.

The first thing that caught his eye was a bright blue box sitting on the edge of what he assumed to be Martin’s bed. He slowly walked over and sat on the bed, careful to not get too much dirt on the clean covers. He laid his hand on the box, and realized with a jolt that it wasn’t locked.

Suddenly his head felt like it was filling with water, and he tried to push the feeling down. He didn’t want to know what was in the box, he didn’t want to invade Martin’s privacy like that. And nothing The Eye could do was going to force him.

But Jon would have been lying to himself if he said that he didn’t remember anything he was just fed. He knew that the box contained something about him, and he felt almost embarrassed for wanting to look inside even more now.

But fate wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, as he heard footsteps coming down the hallway. “Jon, sorry about this, but I seem to have forgotten to give you a towel, and-” Martin’s voice could be heard getting louder as he was coming down the hallway to the bathroom.

But his eyes connected with Jon’s through the now open doorway, and the words died on his lips.

He suddenly burst into action, shuffling up the box that sat on the bed and shoving it under his dresser, cheeks flushed red and eyes wild. “You weren’t… you didn’t look in there, did you?”

Jon sat there stunned and took a moment to regain his composure before speaking again, “Martin, I’m so sorry, I didn’t look in the box. I just… I saw your room and was curious as to what was in here, and-”

Martin cut him off, laughing softly at first, soon growing into full body laughter where he had to hold his stomach as if it hurt. Jon sat there dumbfounded, not knowing what was an appropriate reaction for the ridiculous situation he seemed to find himself in.

“Jon, you’re so different. A few years ago, I never could have imagined you’d be sitting in my apartment, much less my bedroom, looking at a box that I thought would never been seen by anyone else. And you’re sitting here, apologizing to me for, what? Being curious? That’s who you are now Jon.”

Jon slowly got up from the bed and walked over to Martin. He bent over and picked up the box that Martin had shoved under the dresser and held it up. He looked at Martin steadily.

“I didn’t mean to Know, but I do. I know that whatever is in here contains something about me, but I’m not sure what. I would like to know, if you please”

Martin flushed ever redder, and Jon could almost feel the heat rolling off the ginger’s face. He didn’t know what he was doing, per say. He was relying on the feeling that rolled over him, the one that made his knees weak and his heart beat faster. He didn’t feel like himself. Or… maybe he felt more like himself, more human, than he had in a long time.

Martin sighed, and grabbed the box from Jon’s hands. Jon let go and stepped back, his shoulders pulled back as if to make him look taller, more intimidating. All it did to Martin, though, was make him want to grab the other man and kiss him hard on the lips. He instead decided to turn towards the bed and sit down, gently pulling the lid off the box and placing it beside him. He pulled out a piece of paper after shuffling through it a minute and held it out to Jon. It looked a couple years old, and appeared to have been torn out of a notebook. Jon grabbed it gently, but not before looking to the desk to see a tape recorder sitting on it, recording.

Jon joined Martin on the bed and began reading. It was dated about late 2016, when he had been the Archivist for only a few months. It detailed an interaction between him and Martin, but written from Martin’s perspective. Obviously, he thought, he must have hated me then.

What he read, however, was the opposite. Martin wrote such… kind words about Jon. About how he was happy to see Jon everyday. As soon as he was finished with the first letter, Martin was there with another, and another, all about him. About Jon.

About how Martin had come to terms with his sexuality at about the same time as he came to the institute. About how he realized he had a crush on Jon, but had shrugged it off as a case of “having a 'crush’ on a friend cause I’m lonely”.

But soon the letters tone shifted. They felt almost like.. love letters. Confession after confession, and Jon started tearing up as him and Martin sat in the tiny bedroom for an hour. Jon trying to hide the emotions he felt, and Martin studying his reactions carefully, trying to see if he was making a mistake.

When Jon had read all the contents of the box, he finally allowed the tears to fall from his eyes. He didn’t feel like he did a few hours ago. He felt new, more human than he had ever felt in his life.

“I wanted to tell you. I did. But you were always so closed off. I thought you hated me for awhile. That you only trusted me because there was no one else to trust. But I fell for you anyways. Despite all the signs telling me not to, I did. And this is all those years of.. choosing to stay with you. So, I’m sorry, I guess. You don’t have to say anything. We don’t have to talk about this ever again if you don’t want to. I just… felt it was the right time to get this off my chest. What with the world possibly dying soon anyways.”

Jon looked at Martin levelly before wiping the tears that ran down his cheeks, leaving streaks of clean skin through the dirt.

All he said was, “So that’s what this feeling is.”

“What feeling?” Martin replied, sounding anxious.

“I think I also feel… love. For you, Martin. I just hadn’t… realized until now.” Jon smiled and scooted closer to the other man, gently leaning his head on the freckled shoulder of Martin. His Martin.

“Are you alright?” Martin asked, glancing down at Jon. “You seem to have changed so much in the few hours you’ve been here”

“I think… it’s for the better, Martin. I don’t think I quite realized just how much I need you for stability in my life. I always would find myself wanting your company, trying to find some excuse to talk to you. So… I think I like you too, Martin.”

“So what do you want to do about it?”

Jon felt a million things run through his head. Things to say, things to do, and he settled on one he thought would be the perfect way to portray his feelings. He looks up at Martin, grabbed his head between his calloused hands, and pressed a gentle kiss on Martin’s lips.

Martin froze, unsure of what to do, before letting his body and instincts take control. He grabbed Jon’s hips and gently lifted him up and over onto his lap. Jon’s hands slid down Martin’s neck and onto his shoulders, and all at once, his joy became known. He was smiling against Martin’s mouth, and pulled back to look at his face.

He didn’t feel like himself, not really, but at that point he didn’t care. He just smiled and carefully lifted himself off and onto the floor.

“I think I’ll go take that shower now,” He said, slowly walking towards the door. “Thank you Martin, for everything. I think after we settle down, we can have a nice long talk about everything”. And just like that, he was gone around the corner. After a few seconds, Martin heard the shower head come to life and heard Jon step into the shower. He smiled to himself.

Maybe, He thought, things will be okay for a little while.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #my work #tma fanfiction #the magnus archives fanfiction #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #fluff #i love them!!!#i want them to be safe but i dont think its gonna happen

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smallestclowninthecircus · 3 years

Text

Season 3 notes popping off

due to my desire to not completely fail all my classes this year i made myself slow down significantly while listening to this season, and the fact that the other person i'm listening along with had to catch up. We've managed to convert several other people to start listening and its pretty great.

ep 81: what does it even mean to be chosen by one of them? And if he was chosen by the eye. we know Gertrude wasnt? Because she cut the eyes out of the magazines?

ep 82: elias lmao. I understand why people like him so much bahshdhdk i thought he was gonna snitch on Jon but he didnt so he's fine. Ok but how do we think he knew all that stuff. Idk probably just institute connections. I love the fact that the recorder just wants to record stuff randomly bjahsjdhd. Elias feels a lot like Michael in the sense that he knows more than he should and talks in a way that implies he just wants to wait and see how things play out for his own benefit. I understand him knowing the things that happened but his description of her emotions implies something paranormal. Maybe he's connected to one of the entities. Which one I cannot guess.

ep 83: did a file get delivered randomly to the place he's staying at? Probably elias lmao. He thinks the mannequin is related to the stranger. Idk I would believe it.

ep 84: worms? I know he says earth worms but idk. Again? Is she making gordon golems out of trash? Martin popping off. You can tell the statements get to him more that they get to Jon. How come martin is so mad about it? I want to assume he just doesnt want her to get stuck there but idk. Jude Perry. The calliope organ. Jon heard a circus in one of the last episodes

ep 89: he's talking to perry? Like jude Perry? He says ... God? Is that what it is? Lmao. The Desolation. Jon is tired of ppl being vague and not telling him stuff lmao. Oh God Jon is so confused. Compel her? Is she assuming he has some kind of power? Does he have powers? Hmm. im agreeing with jon here please jesus christ why does everyone have to be so cryptic. Just say what you mean. "maybe you get an itchy eye" bahasjkdfklsjdf girl what. Agnes saved her? Oh this is the girl from the cafe story? So theres the Cult of the Lightless Flame? They worship whatever entity this is? The Desolation? Why do they all seem like they sorta worship her then? Is Gretchen gonna die oh god. fuckin michael. a different michael aaah. i see. dont do it shes gonna burn you. sir. please. sir dont you dare do- WHAT DID I SAY what did you think was gonna happen hhh.

ep 90: try to make it less obvious you're trying to get fired big T. Elias that doesnt sound like the most healthy thing to do. oh dear is this gonna be triggering for me. uuuuuh. uuuuuuuuuh. doesnt seem like it ok gonna keep listening. Jared. hmmmmm. Ok we've seen Keay and hotner or whatever his name was.

ep 91: Michael Crew. Oh is this the lightning scar guy. Mister jon sir did you just die. No? God everyone is so fuckin cryptic. Say normal things please. They all just like to go on about pain and agony and j e s u s c h r i s t we get it you got hurted by whatever thing. So theyre avatars? question mark? Jude Perry is an avatar of The Desolation? hhhh fractals. thats a spiral thing innit. Yup. messing with your perceptions. God they all talk about feeding their god and feeding that which feeds them and. hh what does that meann. Leave big J. please. uh oh. is it daisy? how come he has the web lighter still? the tape recorder just turns on sometimes you know how it is. So he can compel people? not that he knows it obviously but. a bit wack. powers go brr i guess? If the eye just wants knowledge i guess he feeds it by getting the statements? b/c i doubt it wants him to murder ppl or whatever.

ep 92: elias you all knowing fuck what do you know. (i guess all given what i just said) Lukas. Heard of them before. Mordecai Lukas. Loneliness. The lonely even. Jonah Magnus. Elias ur sounding like a bit of a dickhead rn. lmao jon's just like "i dont care" elias what is ur deal. Why does he want to tie her in. ohh i see. lmao theyre all just like "elias why" The Unknowing lol seems very much like something the eye wouldnt like. lol elias is gettin all philosophical. what does it really mean to be human. this still doesnt answer why gertrude wanted to destroy the archives tho.

ep 93: bahsjdfh he seems so dead inside rip. awww admiral. i love him already. ghh breacon and hope. purple mold. doesnt sound like anything we've seen so far. I think the funniest explanation for breacon and hope is that they dont actually serve the stranger they just kinda happen to be a random neutral party that cart around random spooky entity related stuff. ooooh. when we hear the slight static of the tape recorder it's cuz he's compelling ppl.

ep 94: the end! listen man they were all just grayed up for 4/13.

ep 95: the end also? death but also savagery/ animalistic shit. aww martin. lmao becerra. she's just been chillin in the corner.

ep 96: return to sender. haha minecraft go brr. prediction: breacon and hope? yup there we go. jon why is there an echo. are you in a stairwell? is he gonna eat it- yup. how did i call it. unsure abt what theyre talking about but ok. they kidnapped someone? Sarah Baldwin. ooooh that guy.

ok im just putting this here so i have notes for when nicholas gets to this part. It seems like (from jon's conversation with jude perry) that the desolation and the eye are kinda at odds with eachother? like i guess not directly but it seems like they dont really vibe? so how could be with both. Cuz if he has the heat powers and shit then we know he's an avatar of the desolation. but then why does he have so much eye imagery. also he got burned intentionally? like jude did when she went on her monologue about the feeling of burning? but then why did he wear the eye pendant. it stops him from being burned all the way which seems like he's not fully accepting the fire or whatever.

Nooooo I lost like a bunch of my notes rip. I keep forgetting to save.

Ep 104: tim gives a coherent statement without jon even being there. Ugh. Fucking robert smirk. Dont like him. Joey. Dont recognize the name. The show must go on. Clown. The spooky circus?

ep 105: total war... shogun 2? jon is just understanding languages again. "if i understood mandarin or cantonese" are you sure you dont big man?

ep 106: havent we heard this one already? mans in space? oh no this is just another episode in space. fairchild... uuuh. cant remember. oh! this is related to that! this is one of the ppl from the other side. sounds like a Vast thing. oh he's the one that the dude saw? but that guy didnt have a face... she's sorta like jon. wanting to dismiss the statements. lmao i love the workplace gossip. ace jon for the win! oh cmon elias dont be a dick. sunny meadows or whatever. thats the place we heard about.

ep 107: oh great is it jude perry again. Third Degree. bahahsdkfj she was arrested. sorry but imagining this old british lady getting arrested is funny. she was trying to resurrect him. using the skin book. he's not feeling well. jon take a nap. i wonder if this is what happens when he uses his powers too much. He gets into The Zone when he reads statements lol. didn't we have a burning train car in anothre statement? is it julia fairchild? bahahahs "kidnapped. Again." poor jon honestly. julia... about her dad. daughter of the murder shed guy? hunting like your dad liked to hunt or normal people hunting. oh hunting vampires!

ep 108: melanie has been suffering. poor martin peter lukas why do you have to be like this. can he not just use the front door? does he have to bother the ppl doing statements?

ep 109: how come he cut her off? kinda rude tbh. its either jon's influence or there was smth he didnt want her saying. is it gerard on the table? this sounds kinda like smth from one of the university episodes. is it the closed eye on the hand? yup. he's like one of the students! if the thing listening in is elias then... he can do that without the tape recorder yknow. plus who's to say it wont just turn itself on again

110: who wants to bet its a leitner?

111: Lukas related to The Lonely. I used to not like Gerard that much but i like him more now. but i thought there were 15? ohhh thats right isnt flesh newer? gerry for the win honestly. finally telling jon things.

112: lol "again" no one ever tells any of these ppl anything. tim and basira are just out of the loop constantly. music, like the war episodes. The hunt or the slaughter? probably the hunt. so Daisy is related to the hunt right? basira likes the reading, she's doing fine at the institute. daisy's getting worried...

113: it just turned on randomly. what is it lol. explossives! oh boy. why do they always assume he turned it on intentionally. melanie youre not making me like you that much. which entity is this about i cant tell. lol he was disappointed it was just the end. The title Breathing Room made me think it was gonna be about the buried but i guess not. So many of these entities deal with death but the end is one that deals in just death. it has no need for fancy deaths, just death is enough

114: more hilltop road statements? the tree. oh boy. ok the tree has 8 arms obviously theres the spider parallels. was she taken into an alternate universe? oh no. jon tries to phrase things so he's not asking questions. thats honestly good. "sometimes i was kidnapped" oh dear. they got gertrude. daisy ur so odd lmao. who wants to bet they dont know the tape recorder's running?

115: silaca? or whatever? antique man? meat grinder... related to the meat is meat episode? oh wow. they buy antiques from him. maybe dont antagonize this creature which can kill you?

116: lol theyre all just so done with elias. music? is it like the one band that if you hear them you die or wtvr. oh its chess? i am very much confused. mmm stranger go brr. gorilla skin? oh shit the dance. woah. this is so good. this is so gender. the words are wonderful. "you can just say tim" lmao trying to fool elias never feels like a good idea.

117: except elias lmaoo. oh shit. leitner getting some use for once idk. bruuh poor melanie she has been thru so much shit. martin you can just say youre worried about jon. lol he's so accurate in his jon impression. lol who was that. was that daisy? lmaoo. oop hi tim. oh god i hope tim doesnt die. i feel like i wouldve heard about that? but im not sure. destroying the source of knowledge is gonna be hard for jon. yay jon! you did a good thing. let him rest.

118: go off martin lmao. awww poor martin. oh god the tape gets that squealy quality and its awful.

119: woah. lots of things happening. uhh. POP OFF TIM!!

120: lmao elias giving a statement about jon's dreams lol. damn jon doesnt even get his own dreams? has to stay Watching even when he's asleep? f in the chat this man goes thru so much shit. oh boy its peter. lol martin my beloved. idk i dont trust peter.

#tma #neptune's tma notes #notes #tma season 3

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stillpartofthisworld · 4 years

Text

i wrote a ficlet based on @thevoidcannotbefilled‘s sad little idea but like, marignally more optimistic than @dickwheelie‘s one.

-----

Jon is outside.

That's the thing; he's outside, but the last thing he clearly remembers is walking towards the blind spot. Towards Upton House, being much dirtier and with a much lighter bag and, and-

and Martin.

He spins around and surveys the landscape. It's mostly desolate fields and a speckling of trees; nowhere for Martin to hide (not that he hides from Jon, even when he's monologing). Martin's not here, and Jon can't remember anything.

He reaches for his power instinctively. It surprises him to even have to reach for it, like it's a muscle he hasn't used for a while. He reaches, and he knows.

The facts make his blood run cold.

1. That Martin chose to leave, to stay...somewhere.

2. That Jon is terribly, terribly alone.

To his credit, Jon doesn't take this at face value. The Eye has hidden context from him before, and he wasn't just going to believe that Martin had abandoned him suddenly. He reaches again, more insistent, and something crumbles.

....There is a tape recorder in his bag.

He unzips it, rummaging through the water and first aid supplies (supplies from Upton? he didn't know, he didn’t and that made him feel something) until he sees the thing at the bottom of the bag. There's already a tape inside it, and so...he presses play.

"Hey, Jon."

It's Martin, and Jon feels his heart stop. He tries to know where this was recorded and fails, the blank in his mind synonymous with that National fucking Trust.

Anyway. He tries to focus on Martin's voice instead of his own swirling thoughts and fears.

“I-I really hope....i̵t̕͘’̵̷͟s̴̴͟͠ ̴̨̛̕͟y̷̷̷̨͢͠ò̡̡̨̕͞͠ų̶̀͘͟͡͠͝ ̶̨̡͘͜҉̢̕͝l̷̵̢̡̛͢͟͝͠į̴̸̵̡̛̀͟͢͝s̴̴̵̡̢̨͢͜͜͝͠t̶̀҉̸͠҉̸̸́̕͞è̵̀͜͟҉̴̀͞͠͡͠ń̴̵̸̡̧̧̛́̕͜͝i҉̷̶̷̷̨̧̕͟͢͞͠n҉̷̶̴̧̨͘̕͢͜͠͝͝g̡̛̕̕͜͝҉̷̷͘͘͟͝ ̷̴̨͜҉̶̷̷̢̨̡͟͟t̷̶̶̷̴̵̢́͘͟͟͠͡ơ̸̢̨͜͠҉̧̛͟͢͢͝ ̸̵̧̨̛́͘͘͘͜͝҉̕t̷̵̢̡̧́̀́̕͟͢͡ḩ̷̡̛̛̀́͟͜͡͠͠i̵̷̢̢͘͘͜͜͟͟͢͞ş̸̵̀̕͘͢͟͞͞͝.̡̢̛̛̀́͘͠͝͡͡ ̛̛́͟͜͞҉̷̧͡Ì̴̴̡̧̡͘͜͞͞’̴̶̶̀͟͜͞͝͝m̵̴̴̧̡͟͟͞ ͘҉̵̶̨̧́g̵̛̕͜͢͝o̷҉̴̕̕͠n҉̶̸̶͝ǹ̶̢͠á̸͜ ̸̛t̛ry...to put the tape somewhere you’ll...fi̷n̸͟ḑ̧͟ ̴̨̨͞í̸͘҉̕t̴̵̕͜͡͝,̷̧̧̨̡́͘ ̵́͟҉̷͟͞͝o̶̕͜͝͝҉̴͜ń̸̨̨̢̛̕͜͞c̵̡̨̧̨̨̀͘͟͞e̡̡͟͞͠͞҉̨͜͠ ̶̴̢̕͞͠҉̷̡̀ý̵̶̵̧̨̛̕͜͝͞ó̸̵̴̧̧̢̢͜͟͝ų̴̨́́͘̕͘͜͢͡ ̶̵̷̶̛́́̕͜͝͡.̵̸̷̷̵̨̛͟͢͟͝ ̷̵̸̸̧̀͢͟͟͞͝.̴̵̡̨́͘͘͜͝͡͞ ̸̷̵̧̧̡̀͜͞͝͠.̸̢̡̧̧̧͢͟͠͞ ̸̵̸̷̧̢̢̛͟͞w̴̴̸̷̢̕͟͠͝ȩ̶̴͢҉̷̡̡̕l̵̢̛̕҉̧̛͠ĺ̸̡̨̕̕͞.̵̶̵̧̢͘͝ ̴̷̨̧҉̨Ơ̵̡̛͢n̡̢͟͠c҉̵͘e̴͝.̨.. you’ll leave.

The recorder is more static than words, leaving Jon to fill in blanks he has no power to. He's never heard a tape so... glitchy.

"What the hell..?"

“I’m not sure how much you’ll...r̴è̡m̧̕͝è̴̴̕ḿ̵̡͢͠b̵̷͟͝҉͟e̴̢̕͠͞҉͜ŗ̶̴̶̀̕͝͝ ̵̶̸̸̸̸̕͢͡o̵̸̕͞҉̶̷̴͠͡f̷̶̴̡̛̀́̕͢͠͠ ̸̨͘҉̧̛̛̀͘͟͝͠ţ̵̷̶̧̛̕̕͟͢͞͡͝h̷̸̸̡̛̛́̕͘͟͢͝͠į̷̶̷́̀́͘͜͟͟͠͝͠s̵̶̢̧̡̨̡̛̀̀̕͢͜͡͞ ̶̨̛͜͝͠҉̶̵̨̢́̕̕͝͝ṕ̷̷̸̧̢̛̛́̕͠҉̧̛̀̀l̶̵͞҉̕҉̸̷̵̛҉̴̡̧͢͜͝a̶̴͝҉̶̴̢̛́͟͡͝҉̢̡͘҉̴ḉ̶̶̷̵̷̶̶́̀́͜͢͞͝͝͠e̷̸̡̧̡̛͝҉̷̵̵̧̛̕͘͜͡͝͠,̷̶̶̷̷̸̨̧̢̢́̀̀̕͘͟͟͢͝ ̸̶̶̵̴̡̨̨̨̛́̕͜͢͢͝͝͡͝͝ó̵̵̸̢̨̧̡̀̕͢͟͜͟͟͜͜͡͠͡r̨̧͘͡͝҉̴̴̶̷̢̢̢̛́͜͢͞͞͠͡ ̴̸̷̵̸̶̵̷̢̨̛̕͘͘͜͜͞͝͝͡͡è̷̸̴̶̷̸̢̢͘͜͜͝͞͞҉̷̨̛͘͜͡v͘҉̶̸̵̵̵̴̢̛̛́̀͘͢͜͟͟͞͝͡͠e҉̴̴̶̴̢̨̨̧̡̛́̀͘͜͜͟͢͝͡͠͝n̶̷̴̴̶̶̨̨̛̛͘̕̕̕͜͟͠͡͞͡͞͝ ̸̴̷̸̨̡̢̡̨̀̀̀͘͘̕̕͢͟͟͡͞͞͠t̸̸̨̢̧̡́̕̕̕͟͜͟͞͡͝҉̨̛̀͘͞͝h̵̸̸̵̷̷̷̨̢̢̀̕̕͟͜͠͡͡͞҉́̕̕á̷̵̵̢̧̡̢̕͠҉̴̸̨̢̛́̀̀͘͜͟͟t̷̡̛́́̕͢͟͡͠͠҉̴̴̷̷̡́́́̕͟͞ ̡̀̀̀͜͟͠͠҉̴̵̸̷̶̷̴̡̡̀́͘̕͞ỳ̶̵̵̸̵̸̸̵̵̢̨̧̨̧̛͢͜͞͞͡͠͝ǫ̸̷̛̕͜͞҉̷̷͘͘͟͜͜͝͡҉̷̷̧͝͠ú̷̵̧͢͝҉̶̸̨̧́̕͘̕̕͟͞͡͠͝҉̷ ́́͜͠͝҉̵̷̴̵̶̵̸̨̡́̀̀̕͝͝͞ĺ̸̴̶̶̡̡̨̢̢̢̛̀́͘͜͢͢͢͡͠͡ȩ̶̴̷̴̢̧̛̕̕͘͟͢͜͜͢͞͡҉̴̡̀f̡̧́͜͝҉̷̷̨̧̛̀͘̕͟͠͞͠͞͞͠͡t̸̢́͘͜͜͢͢͠͞͠҉̴̀́͜͜͝͡҉͟ ̴̸̢̕̕͟͠҉̷̶̨̨̨̛̛̛͟͜͢͜͡ḿ̡́҉̷̶̸̢̢̨̨̀͘̕͘͘͜͟͢͡ȩ̴̵̶̢̧̢̡́̕̕͡҉̸̢̢̛́͘͞ ͢͟͡҉̶̴̶̷̴̴̡̡̨̕̕͟͟͟͡ḩ̷̷̶̵̧̡͘͘͜͢͟͟͢͟͝͞͞͡é̵̷̵̶̴̡̢̢͘͘̕̕̕͜͠͝͡r̵̵̨̀̕͢͟҉̷̵̸̶̢̧͘͝͞͡ę̶҉̡̧́́́̕͢͜͟͠͡͠͠͞-̶̴̷̡̧̨́̀͟͟͟͢͞͞͝͞-̴̴̡̢̢́́͘͘̕͜͢͢͞͝͝w҉̵̢̧̨̛̛̀̀͢͜͢͡͠͞e̷̴͜͢͠҉̷̸̡̢́̀́͞ļ̷̴̸̴̴̢̡̕͘̕͢͟ļ̵̀͘͟͟͝҉̴҉̵͡͠,̸̸̷̶͘͘̕͢͝͝͡͡ ̴̡́́҉̵̸̡̨́͟I҉̷̶̴̡̡͘͟͞͝ ̴̷̨̡͘͜͜͝͞c̡̀̀͘͠͠҉̨à̵́̕͢͞͞ǹ̡̧̨́͘'̷́̀͜͠t̷̴̨̀ ͝͞͝s̸͜a͝y͘...left, can I? I understand why you’re going on... a̴l͜͞o̡͠͞ǹ̴̡͟e̸̴̷̢̧,̸́͘̕͠͡ ̵̨̧̛̕͠͞á̶̴̢͟͟͞͞n̸̢̧̛̛͟͢͢͝d̶̸̵̷̵̡̧͘͠͡ ̴̴̶̷̢́͢͜҉̶ẃ̴̶͢͢͟͟͢͟͠͞h̸̵̢̧̡̧̀͜͜͞͞͡y̸̶̵̧̢̧͘̕͡͝͠͠ ̶̸̴̧̡̨̛͘̕̕͜͟͞I̴̡̕҉̷̡̛̛́̕͢͢͞'̶̡̡͠͝҉̸̸̵́͘͘͢m̢̛͟͠͡҉̶̵̶̴̶̡͢͞ ̸̶̧́͝҉̴͟͞͠͡҉̴̧ş̷̨̧̀͞͞҉̷̶̷̢̛́ţ̶̶̵̛̛͘͘̕͜͢͡͠͡a͡҉҉̸̶̶̧̧̛̀́͞͡͡ỳ̸̷̴̵̧̡̨̢̛̛͟͡͡i̸͘͘͡҉̷̕͝҉̶̶̕͝͞n̶̷̴̷̨̢̡̕͟͝͝͞͞͞ǵ̵̸̵̵̷̴̨̡́̕͜͟͞.̶̶̷̴̡̛̛̀͜͜͡͠͝ ҉̵̴̴̵̧̡̨̡͘͘͡͡w̷̨̧͜͝͝͠҉҉̵͘͢͠ę̷̧̡̛̀̀́̀̕͢͡ ̵҉̴̷̵̧̨́͜͢͠͝d̷̴̵̴̡̧̀́͟͡͡e̸̶̴̶̵̵̴̢͘͜c̢̧̧҉̷̡̀͠͞͡í̸̧̕҉̸̡͝͝d̵͡͡҉̨̡̕͟e̵̛͘͟͜͠͡d̨͘͘͡͠͠ ̴́́͜҉ớ̛̀͝ņ́͢͟ ̛͞͡i͢͞t̷,... together, but still. I said I would go with you, we were supposed to….̧ ͜͟b̷́̕e̷̶̷͟ ̧̨̀͠͠t̷̨̕͢҉̶ơ̸̧̨̕͟͡g̛̀͘͘͜͜͞͞e̸̵͜͜͟͜͠͡t̸̢͘̕͜҉҉̨͜h̡̨̧͟͜͢͢͝͠e̴̴̵̢̡̢͘͘͟͡r͜҉̸̸̷̧̕̕͠͡ ̶̴̷̴̨̡̀͜͝͠ų̷̶̡̧̧̛͝͡͞ń̸̴̶̛́̕͠҉̧ţ̧̢̛̀͢͢͝͡͡ì̵̵̸̴̢̕͘͟͠ļ̸͢͢͠͠͠͝͝ ̶̧̨̢́́͜͠͝ţ̧́̕͢͢͞͠͝h̀̀͘͜͝҉̴̷e̸҉̴́̕͡͞ ̵͢͢͠͝͝͡e̢̡̨̛͡͡ņ̴̷̴͟d̀͘͘͟,̵̴͜ ̀͜b͠ut...you begged ̛m͞͠e̛͜͞ ̶̢̕͘ţ̴͘͟o̢҉̷̛͘ ̶̡̛́͡ş̷̷̸̴t̸̴̛͝͡a̕͠҉͡y̧̨̛͞.̧͠͡ ̷́W͟e argued about... ̴ì͝t̡͢͞ ̸̢̢͞f̨̀͘͞͞o̴̸̧̨͘͠ŕ̵̨̢͢͡͝ ̸̢̢̢̛́͡͝ś̴̵̸̕͘͞͠ò̵̶̸̢̧̨̀͝ ̡̧̨͘͢͞҉̡҉l͝͝҉̷̵̶̧́̕͞ờ̷̡̨̢́͜͝͠n̷̡͜͠҉̨̛̀́͜g̸̶̡̧̧̧̛͘͘͞,̸̶̨̨̡̛́͞͝͝ ̶̷̸̧̢͜͝͝͝͠b̷̸̨̢̀̕͘͜͝͠ų̧̀́̕͞͡҉̡t̶̶̶̢̛́̀͜͡ ̵̀̀̀̀͟͠͠͠t̵̶̡̕͡͝͞͝h̢͜͟͜҉̸͝è̸̷̵̀͟͟ǹ̵̵͢͞҉ ̶̷̵̵͢ỳ̨̧͝o̶͞͝u̶̷.̶.. broke down and..͢.̶͡ ̨̨́b҉҉̵͟è̴͠͝͞g̵̶̕͢͝͞ǵ̷̴̵̶͟͢e̸̢͟͜͜͢͡͞d̶̶͟͜͠͝͠͝ ̧̛́̀͘͘͟͢͞m҉̵̶̡̢̕̕͢͟e̴̷̷̸̸̵̡͘͘͜ ̷̵̧̧͠͡҉́̀͟ţ̶̢̡̢̧̀͘͘͞͡o̴͠҉̴̡̧͘͟͜͟͟ ͠͞҉̧̀́́͘͢͞͝s̴̵̶̶̀̀̕͜͞͠͞t̷̴̢̡̨̛͢͜͜͜͞a̧҉̷́͠҉̢̛҉҉̡ỳ̴̵̸̨̛҉̸͘͡͡ ̶̢̢̡̕͢͟͡҉̀w̸̵̶̨͟͢͞҉̷̧ḩ̵̧̢̡͟͢͜͜e͡҉̸̵̀̀͢͟͡r̴̢̛̀͟͠͝͡ę̢̢̛̛̕͝ ̵̶̨̧͢͡͡ì̢̨̨̨͟t̵̴̢͢͝ ̕͞҉̀w̵̸̢a͞҉s̴... safe, and I...I can't say no to you Jon. You know that."

“.̶.̀͞Á͠͡ņ̡̛͘ý̷̧̨͠ẁ̶̶̷͞͡a̵̸̡̨͢͠ý̴̶̨͢͡͝.̵̨̛̀͜͜͞ ̸҉̷̴̵͠͝Ì̷͜͢͠͠͠’̶̴̶̶̧̢͞m̷̀͢҉̶̸͘ ̵͘҉̷̡̕҉h̷̵̨́̀͘è̷̢̕͢͠ŕ̸̨̢͜ę̸̕͡.̴̸̡ ̵͟͡A̶̷t͠ Upton. With Salesa and Annabelle Cain,"

Martin says Annabelle's name like a bad taste in his mouth, but he doesn't sound scared. Is that a good thing? Jon’s not even sure, and that’s terrifying.

"Since you keep forgetting ...s̵t̸̡u̷̷̕f̛̀͢͢f̡̢̛́́,̴́̕͟͞͠ ̷͘͝҉̛͡͡Í̴̵̧̧̕͡͠ ̷̶̷̡͜͜͞͡t̴̀͘̕͟͢͜͜͞h̡̢́́͘͘͟͠͞͝ờ̡̡̕͢͜͢͠͞ų̵̷̸̧̢̢̀̕͝͠g̴̷̵̡̡̀̕͢͟͜͞h̸̸̴̢̨́͘̕͢͟͠t҉̶̷̧̨̡̡̀́̀͜,̶̶̡̨̡́̀͘͢͡͞͞ ̸̶̶̶̨̢̛́̀͜͟͠I̴̴̵̧̨͢҉̀́͘͜͡'̴̵̶̵̛͟͟͞͠͞͝l̢̀͡҉̷̛͜͟͡͡͞l̕͢҉̵̢̨̛̀́̕͟ ̷̷̵̀̀̀͜͟͡҉g̸̶̷̵̨̡̡͟͠͠i̵̶̴̡̛̕͢͝͠v̴̶̴̕͘͜͡͠͞é̷̢̕͘͜͟͜ ̸̵̧͜҉̨̕y̷̷̷̧͟͝҉ơ̸̷̡͢͡u̸̸̢͞͞ ̧͟҉̧s̨͞҉o͘͜m̷e... evidence that I'm..͡.̢͜ ̢̕̕h̛̕͜͞e҉̷̀͘̕ŕ̷͟͝͞͡ę̛̀́͢͝͠,͘͜҉̨͞҉̸ ̵̷̧̢̕͘̕͠ą̀͟҉̶̸͢͟l҉̢̀͘͜͟͢͠͞i҉̶̸̷̢̧͞͡҉v̵̴̧̢̛͠͡҉́e̡̡̨̛̕͟҉̛͜ ҉̸̷̸̡̨̕͜͝à̛̀͘̕͟҉̕͢ń̨̢̢̕͟҉͡d̶̵̨̨̕͟͢͜ ̸̶̨̧͝͠͡w̴̨̢͘͟͠͠a҉̧̡̛́́ì̴̛̕͝t̡̨́͞i̷̸͜ņ̵g̛… I still don't want to let you...g̸ơ̶ ̕͘͜a̵͢͝͞l̵̴̡̛o̶̢̧̨͠n̷̴̨̕͢è̵́͜͞,̷̧̕͞ ̷̕͘͜b͟͝͠ų́t̷...well. I'm here, Jon. You .̀͘͞͠.̴̵̡̀́̕͞.҉̸̸̢̡̢́͘͠͠d̴̵̸̢̧̡̧̛̀҉҉̵į̵̢̢͘̕͟͜͜͟͡͡͡ḑ̸̡̡̛̛̀̕͢͜͢͡ń̶̵̛̕͢͟͜͠͡͠'̢̀̕͝͠҉̷̶͞t̵̸̀́͢͞.҉̨͘. lose me, and I...̀͘͞͠.̴̵̡̀́̕͞.҉̸̸̢̡̢́͘͠͠d̴̵̸̢̧̡̧̛̀҉҉̵į̵̢̢͘̕͟͜͜͟͡͡͡ḑ̸̡̡̛̛̀̕͢͜͢͡ń̶̵̛̕͢͟͜͠͡͠'̢̀̕͝͠҉̷̶͞t̵̸̀́͢͞.҉̨͘.. let you go. And I’ll . . .̷ ̛͟Í͘’̨̛͟l̵̡̢͜ĺ͘͝҉ ̛͢͞͞͝b̸̕͘̕͟e͟҉̢̀҉͘ ̷̵̵͞͝͝h̛҉̴̷͠͠e̵҉̴̡́͠҉r̀̀͡͠҉̨͠ę̴̷̧̧̡͘,̶̨̕̕͜͞͠ ̷̀҉̸̷̢͟ẁ̷̨̨̀͜͢h̷̷̶̛̀͟͟ȩ̶̸̢̨͟͢n̛͘͘͟͟͟͜ ̵̶̕̕̕͡͝ý̷̧̧̀͡ǫ̶̴̛͜͜ų̵̷̀͜͝'̸́͜͡͡r̴̷̴̡̕è̡͟͡ ̶̧͜d̢͘̕o͜͡n̶̨e͠. Done with . ̷.̷͢ ̷͝.̵͢͢ ̸̨͘̕ẁ̶͝͞e̶̸҉̸̡l̸͘͘͢͞l̶̷̢͟͠͝.̵҉̴̷̕̕ ̶̢̨̛̀͜͞Ẁ̴̵͢͢͠͞ḩ̵̨̀̀́͡e̸҉̷̀͘҉̧͢ń̵̷̸̸̡̢͠ ̴̧̀͠҉̡͘͠ỳ̸͘̕͢͠͡͠o̧̢͜͢͠҉̛́u̷̵̕҉̷̸̧͜ ̸̸̵̵͘̕͢͞ģ̷̷̵̢̛͘̕e̶̶̢̨͘͟͡͠t͘͜͟͢͜͜͢͝ ̵̶̶̡̡̀͠͡b̴̧̀́̕͜͡à̴̸̢͜͠͡ç̷̧̧͜͢k҉̶̢́́͡.̶̢̡̕͝͞ ̴̶̢̀͢J̶̶̢͟͜ù̵̢҉s̸̵̴t̛͞͠ ͘͠.͢ ̛. . please hurry, Jon."

The static gets louder, but Jon swears he can hear one more thing.

"͜͠I̛̕͠͝ ̶̸̧̢̧́l̷̨̡̧͠͠҉ơ̵̧̢̢͟͢͞v̷̡̨̕͘̕͜͞e̸҉̧̨̡̀̕͠ ҉͞҉̸̧̧̛́y̷̷̢͡͡͡o̶͘͟͟͞ų͠͝.̡"

The static screeches, and then stops, leaving him with the silence.

-----

Martin's looking at the roses.

He's looking at them, not at the little cranny of a bench they're beside, giving one a good view of the estate in all its reality glory. He is very pointedly thinking about how roses bloom in June, and that it was very much not June when this whole fiasco started. He is very much not thinking about that bench, and how it can fit two people-two specific people-quite well, and how one of those two is now gone into who knows how much danger but has pretty much god like powers but can be hurt by things like Daisy and probably Eli-

"Looking at the flowers, Martin?"

He nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Salesa behind him. He's holding two mugs, one steaming with tea and the other most likely filled with booze.

Martin takes the tea gratefully, happy to have something warm to hold on to. "Thanks," he says.

"Ah, not a problem. It's been a while since I've doted on another person." He takes a sip of his own mug. "Still thinking about your, ah, Archivist?"

"Is it that obvious."

"No, not at all!" Salesa waves his hand. "Aside from your constant sighing, looking out the windows, and very foggy bedroom."

Martin blushes.

"Oh, don't worry about it, my boy!" Salesa chuckles. "At least the Lonely is a gentle one. Don't worry about your Jon. I'm sure he'll come back soon. You'll be together, and I'll be famous. A good ending for all."

He doesn't mention Annabelle, and Martin doesn't press him on it. He instead tries to imagine the future Salesa laid out for him, one where Jon comes back from this mission alive and there and not bleeding out in the Panopticon, or simple fading away like he did here-

Or running into the garden.

"What the-" Martin says, but Jon has already spotted him. He's holding the tape recorder Martin packed-he'd listened to it after all.

Salesa turns to to see what Martin is gawking at and lets out a puff of surprise. "Already tired of the outside, Jonathan?" He says, and Jon actually stops to consider him, like he hasn't met the man before today.

"Did you make this place?" He asks, and Salesa stares at him.

"My God, you've forgotten everything, haven't you?" He says, and Jon sighs, like he’s asked himself the same question multiple times.

"It appears so." Jon turns away from the older man to look at Martin. There's relief written clear on his face, but he's fidgeting with the tape recorder the way he does whenever he's nervous.

"Martin," He says, and it's enough to make him close the distance between them.

"Back so soon?" He whispers into Jon's hair, and he sags into Martin like a weight has been lifted. "I forgot where you were," He mumbles into Martin's sweater vest. He still smells clean; he'd only been gone for half a day, but his strength seemed to have returned quicker than it left.

"I forgot where you were," he continues, "and all I had to go on was the Eye telling me that you chose to go and this blasted glitchy tape."

"Glitchy?" Martin moves away for a second, ignoring the tensing of Jon's arms to take a look at the recorder. "It looks fine," he says, opening the case to inspect the tape. It looks fine; none of the visual damage they were trained to find at the Institute was on it.

"It isn't," Jon replies. "I could barely make anything out. So...I came to check."

"Aww," Martin coos, "You were worried about me?"

"Yes. I was." Jon replies in that matter-of-fact way that still manages to make Martin's heart run a mile. "Fill me in on the details?"

Martin obliges.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #jonmartin #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #layla writes

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soveryanon · 4 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG193!

- I think this was the first time that an episode immediately followed the previous one like this?

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: He’s the pupil of The Eye…! JONAH (BACKGROUND): –from the now that is no longer– MARTIN: Meaning? JONAH (BACKGROUND): –even close to what the when– ARCHIVIST: He won. JONAH (BACKGROUND): –just might have been if there was time enough to run and hide from rancid deaths– [CLICK.]

(MAG193) [CLICK–] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that stinks of hate– MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and wafts to him– ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it!

We’ve had scenes separated by the tape recorder shutting off/on in the same episode (for example, Tim’s interview by Daisy in MAG082; Martin and Elias in MAG118 – with a scene taking place at the Unknowing in-between) and we’ve had episodes beginning shortly after the end of the previous one (MAG038 and MAG039, with Jon’s attempt to retrieve the tape recorder; MAG118 and MAG119 with Jon lost in the Unknowing…), but never a configuration like this, I think, with a click off and instantly back on? It makes me wonder about the separation between the two tapes, in universe: meta-wise, it’s obviously because the episode would have been too long and would have covered two statements, but why the separation through the tape recorders in the story…? Is it that someone is curating the collection of tapes? Is it because each tape is already overloaded with fear…?

- Anyway, I love how the episode immediately picked up after the end of the last one, with Martin asking the question we were all asking (what the heck do you mean, Jon, and what is Jonah’s current degree of consciousness, and does that mean he is happy/satisfied right now)!

(MAG193) MARTIN: What do you mean he’s won? ARCHIVIST: I mean, he’s done it! ARCHIVIST: He’s… a–ascended, become a part of The Eye, he… He’s beyond us. MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –the promise of his own annihilation– ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. He has become the conduit between this new world and the thing that watches it. It’s all running through him. MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss.

* Straight to the point: Jonah probably “won” in a way since Jonah gets to be on top and is not suffering like the others (MAG160: “I am to be a king of a ruined world, and I shall never die.”), but the question of whether or not he’s ~happy~… is not easily answerable – same as with Daisy being “happy”, what value does it have when it comes with the loss of personhood?

* Lovelovelove Martin Kerosene Blackwood going “Oi, dickhead!” and now “Just SHUT UP” at his ex-boss’s ex-boss. It feels like Martin jumping back in time to scream at Elias every time he was opening his mouth in season 3.

* Things I thought a lot this episode: that description of Jonah’s state was so, so so horny. “as he floats and writhes in perpetual perception” in the descriptors last week, now “the floating fear conduit that is Jonah Magnus”, and Jon inferring that he’s in a state of “agonised bliss”. H o r n y.

- … Big Ooft for Martin’s reaction because it directly put to mind the season 5 trailer, when it had been about Jon:

(Season 5 trailer) ARCHIVIST: Yes, I, I’m trying not to, but… all of the fear, th–the anguish, i–it just… [INHALE] It keeps coming at me in waves, rolling over me, filling my head with such… awful sights. MARTIN: … I’m sorry. That sounds… [SMALL EXHALE] That sounds horrible. ARCHIVIST: … I wish it was, Martin. I really wish it was. … But it feels… right. [MIRTHLESS HUFF]

(MAG193) MARTIN: Sounds awful…! ARCHIVIST: To someone so close to it, I imagine it would be a state of… agonised bliss. I can… feel it, the… completeness of it all passing out from him. I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling…

We knew Jon could feel the temptation since the beginning of the season. It wasn’t a surprise that Jon could already understand the state Jonah was in – and I love the contrast that was shown between the two:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: I can see everything from here, and that’s just a hint of what he must be feeling… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –that joined to his through choice or circumstance but now it stains his weeping edges– [RUMBLING SOUNDS START TO RISE] MARTIN: [WARNING] Jon… ARCHIVIST: … as he watches a man run screaming down endless dark alleys, that close, and crush, and press– MARTIN: [HARD WARNING] Jon… Stay with me. ARCHIVIST: Sorry. I–it’s a, it’s a lot…! MARTIN: I, I can see that, but you need to keep it together. ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… I can handle it.

Jon slowly easing into the fascination and utter desire of leaning into the suffering was bone-chilling, from simple description while explaining to Martin, to utter ravishment. Jon-Jonah difference, though: Jon has an anchor, and it’s Martin!! And I love that we could see Martin as the two aspects of “anchor” that had been alluded to in the series:

(MAG099) GEORGIE: Look, you’re worried. I get it. But if you really think you’re turning into something… inhuman, you need people around you. You need anchors. ARCHIVIST: All my “anchors” are just as deep in this as me. GEORGIE: Well, you still need them.

(MAG129) I need an anchor. I… I could go in… myself, I, I could find her. And… then, I just need to get out. I need something out here. Something I can know the way back to. I, I don’t know what. But… [HUFF] It’s a start.

(MAG145) ARTHUR: [Agnes] never told us how she felt about being bound to you! Never even called you by name. Just called you “her anchor”. The thing weighing her down, and tying her to this world, stopping her destiny!

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Wi–without… trust, without a, a reason… Gertrude needed both the purpose her mission gave her, and the control her position allowed. To be here, like us, without a, [INHALE] a reason, without someone to ground her, she… She’d have power but… no control. No real… purpose. Perhaps she’d dedicate herself to a, a doomed quest like us, but– … [QUIET] No… I think this would have broken her. And she’d have resigned herself to… ruling her domain. […] MARTIN: [INHALE] [SNORT] Ssso. If you say Gertrude wouldn’t have been able to go on without a reason… ARCHIVIST: Yes, Martin, you are my reason.

Grounding in both cases but: both as the element allowing Jon to return to, protecting him from wandering, and as the element dragging him down. (Same thing, just depends on the perspective!)

I also like how Martin sounded firmer and more confident about his own ability to keep Jon grounded. He used to panic (sounding more aggressive and/or resorting to slaps to get him back), but now… he knows he can do it, that he’s enough to keep Jon from Beholding’s temptation.

- A lot of confirmation that Jonah is there but-not-really:

(MAG192) MARTIN: Can he hear us? ARCHIVIST: I… MARTIN: Does he even know we’re here? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… […] [SADLY] He can’t hear you, Martin. MARTIN: Yeah, I got that. What’s wrong with him? ARCHIVIST: Nothing. Nothing’s wrong with him. He’s the pupil of The Eye…!

(MAG193) MARTIN: [TO JONAH] Just shut up, Christ! ARCHIVIST: … He can’t hear you. MARTIN: So, so what? He’s not aware of us, of, of any of this? ARCHIVIST: No. Or if he is, it’s only as a miniscule speck amongst the flood of knowledge and fear that’s passing through him. […] He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. […] I–it’s far too late for either of them.

And damnit, I can’t help but be a bit sad about it! My speculations were even worse for him (No Mouth But I Must Scream, while hey, in the end, we got to hear him for two episodes!), but I was still hoping I could hear more of his gloating and/or pitiful regrets and/or fear… but he might not be in any state to feel and manifest such things. (And I’m guessing that Martin was really hoping for that too – minus the gloating.)

- Regarding Jonah’s “statement” / litany of horrors in the background:

* Last episode had given the impression that it was coming for his throat (“he” protagonist, lots of Fears but constantly cycling back to fear of death); this one was fluctuating more, from one victim to another. We began with “him”, “his”, “he”, we jumped to a “she”, then to a singular “they”, and ended on “herself”. So, Jonah seems to be taking glimpses of different victims going through their nightmares, sticking with them for a few scenes before jumping to follow another.

* Same as in MAG192, some bits felt like familiar descriptions of Fears! I spotted potential End (“him with promise of the fast approaching corpse that bears his face”), Extinction (“and holds within its chest the promise of his own annihilation”), Desolation (“splintered powder cast of empty blackened earth”), Spiral (“jumbled symbols twisting in the edges of his sight”), Lonely (“the emptiness around him but the mist that curls its bitter weeping ache around his legs”), Slaughter (“all the butchered ugly fates”), Hunt (“a smile upon the face of something grinning at her sharply”), Vast (“they look down to see the pitch black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky and yet they know it is the smallest tip of only one appendage reaching up”), and the episode finished on… Web (“glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison”).

* Some bits reminded me in particular of Martin’s Lonely house (the “house she almost knows to be a home but empty hollow and devoid of all the trappings that could once have given comfort to the pale and weeping shadow of her life that has been left devoid and faded at the corners like a photograph whose sepia-tinted warmth has drained to just a crowd of faceless staring strangers”) and of Jan Kilbride’s experience in space and of Antonia Hayley’s creature underwater (something too big to be fathomable, making people feel meaningless in comparison).

* (Because I really wanted to be able to “hear” all the words from Jonah’s litany: I realised that the transcript skipped a small portion of the audio around 3’30-3’50, shortly after “tapestry of suffering that billows in the wind” and until it goes back to “to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over”… but I didn’t manage to make out anything specific from the audio either, I could just tell that Jonah kept talking in the background. No idea whether it’s genuinely a small piece of speech missing from the transcript, or if the recorded background litany was actually a biiit too short compared to Martin and Jon’s exchange and a little cover up was necessary to buy some time!)

* Same thing as last episode: overall, at first glance (/ear), Jonah’s horrors seem like they’re told without much inflections… but no: Jonah does occasionally give emphases and slow down or accelerate, it just feels less lively than Martin&Jon’s dialogue or Jon’s own dramatic interpretations.

* The “with a pull that makes her stomach drop to know she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper than the world could ever dream” felt especially awful because it really reminded me of Jon – with the Panopticon itself having been described as “obsidian”, Jon admitting that he had felt a pull towards it, and the overall threat of Jon losing himself, aka “drowning” (MAG127: “It’s like there’s a–a–a door, in my mind. And behind it, is… i–is the entire ocean. Before, I didn’t notice it, but now, I–I know it’s there, and I can’t forget it, and I can feel the pressure of the water on it. I–I–I, I can keep it closed… but sometimes, when I’m around p–people, or–or places, or… ideas… a drop or two will push through the cracks, at the edges of the door. And I’ll… know something.” “What happens, if you open the door?” “… I drown.”).

* The last picture evoking a spider and The Web’s knack for control ended the episode on such a terrifying note, ahaha!

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –is so cold it is so coldly sneering as sticky strands pull taut against the flailing struggles as they try to pull away from what approaches in the distant edge of this colossal latticework of bone and sickly paste that twists and curls with each vibration of those fools like them now caught and wrapped and flailing in their heaving desperation not to see it looming over them with glassy eyes and fangs that drip with poison and the promise of the slow and steady agony of feeling all that was herself dissolved and broken down into the bitter pleading–

Getting restrained, seeing it approach while being unable to do anything (like an insect caught in the web) and understanding that it will be a long torture (spider injecting venom in its prey to be able to slurp their inside)… which, ahah, wasn’t ominous at all when we still don’t know what The Web/Annabelle’s interest in Martin&Jon is supposed to lead to.

* Most wonderful/awful part of it was the distinctive repetition of the “what have you done” and how they synched with Jon&Martin’s dialogue:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: S–sorry, I–I think… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –moved by others, or that might just now be his– ARCHIVIST: I can handle it. JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done– MARTIN: Right, so what’s the play? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –what have you done what have you done what have you done– ARCHIVIST: I, I’m not sure…!

That was… quite distracting. And I love how it worked as the current victim’s feelings (who had apparently slaughtered a loved one in the nightmare?) and their guilt, but also resonated as Jonah’s own words (as if he was panicking over his own ritual) and as a jab at Jon (as someone who… came here).

- I love that Martin was back to being the resourceful one, trying to find weak spots and formulating hypotheses with what he understood of the situation!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever! So: how do we do that? ARCHIVIST: He’s too far gone…! He’s barely even aware we exist. MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? […] Okay. So not that then, but… wh–what about something, like… physical? ARCHIVIST: I… What? MARTIN: Look, I know it’s all about… dream logic and metaphor and all that… stuff, but, you know, what if we just… what if we just grabbed him and, you know, pulled him down? Or, or just threw something heavy at him? ARCHIVIST: Uh… I, I don’t… MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them.

It’s not a novelty – we have regularly seen him being practical, suddenly revealing that he had been thinking about how to solve a particular problem for a while already, thinking about his plans, discarding ideas and trying new options:

(MAG022) MARTIN: I think I might have… lost my mind a bit, then. It all… feels very… strange, blurry. I–I remember stamping and stamping as–as more made their way under my doorway. I–I remember grabbing every towel, sock, bit of fabric scrap that I could find, stuffing them under the door, into the cracks around the window. Anything where a slender worm might crawl I made airtight. And then I sat there and waited.

(MAG039) MARTIN: I used to carry around a knife, but I started thinking that, well, cutting into someone laterally wasn’t really the most efficient way to get them out, and besides which, they seem to be quite slow burrowing in a straight line so, given their size, th–the corkscrew just seemed to be the better option. [HEAVY SILENCE] Look, you guys got to go home every day, okay. I didn’t! I’ve been thinking for a long time about what to do when… well, y’know, this happens.

(MAG118) MARTIN: We… [SHAKY INHALE] We need to leave. MELANIE: We “need” to kill him. Look at you! He needs to die. MARTIN: … No. [INHALE] No, I… I knew what this was gonna be.

(MAG162) MARTIN: –so, I’ve actually had a couple of bags packed for a while, now! [HEAVY ITEM DROPPED] ARCHIVIST: Oh! MARTIN: And, I found some rope in the attic, and I packed that with the maps. ARCHIVIST: [CHUCKLING] Uh, Martin, I… MARTIN: No, no; I, I know what you’re going to say. [RUMMAGING] “What good are maps when the very Earth has…” and blah blah blah…

(MAG186) MARTIN: So. This price. What do you think? Are we going to have to kill Jon? ALSO MARTIN: … I don’t know, because you don’t know. But… it seems like something we should at least consider. MARTIN: … I… have thought about it, and… I won’t. I, I don’t think I could…! ALSO MARTIN: Mmhmm. MARTIN: But anything else? Any other price? I’ll pay it. ALSO MARTIN: Even dying? MARTIN: Yeah!

(MAG189) MARTIN: It’s fine. Maybe there’s another way in. What’s this thing made of anyway, like, like, obsidian or something, right? ARCHIVIST: One-way mirrored glass. MARTIN: Of course it is. Well, if it’s just glass, then it won’t be hard to break, right? We can just grab something heavy, like one of these cameras, and then all I need– [GRABS SOMETHING AND THERE IS A WET, FLESHY AND YET PNEUMATIC-LIKE SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Oh, I wouldn’t. MARTIN: Oh! Oh! Eurgh… [GAGS]

In comparison, Jon has kept the role of explaining the dream-logic, of how they sometimes had to proceed in compliance to the domains to go through them (“the journey will be the journey”, explaining to Basira that she had to see the “monster” in the domains she had traversed in order to be able to catch up to Daisy)… but he’s been lacking out-of-the-box imagination to deal with them.

- I love the hilarity of Martin offering to drag Elias’s body down or to yeet things into his face – I mean, I had thought about it, too! But it’s so satisfying to hear Martin suggest it ♥

(And technically, he has all the items necessary. He had mentioned packing that rope when they had left the cabin, and they have an infinite supply of tape recorders.)

- Sobbing over Martin and how one of his first ideas was to attack Jonah’s original body… since we know he’s been feeling guilty about not killing him when he had the chance:

(MAG158) PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant. MARTIN: Curren–… [QUICK FOOTSTEPS] [SHARP BREATHING] … Who is that? PETER: Jonah Magnus! His… body, at least. Sitting here; watching; binding it all together; growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well… MARTIN: … I’ll need to kill him. PETER: Yes. Don’t worry, though. I brought a knife. […] Martin. What are you doing? MARTIN: I’m… saying no. I refuse! Game over. [KNIFE CLATTERING ON THE GROUND]

(MAG186) MARTIN: [HEAVY SIGH] If we’re glad, why do I feel so… ALSO MARTIN: Guilty? Because you feel guilty about everything. MARTIN: That’s… That’s not– […] If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! ALSO MARTIN: Really? Really, that’s how you’re choosing to remember it? “Chickening out”? MARTIN: I remember it was the wrong choice…! ALSO MARTIN: You choose to remember it that way, and so the guilt– MARTIN: [SIGH] I–I get it, all right? But I need it, I, I choose the guilt, because… ALSO MARTIN: [LEADING] “Because”? MARTIN: Because it motivates me to do better!

(MAG193) MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right.

* No way to compensate for back then, that body doesn’t exist anymore. But I’m glad he thought about it and asked! Since I did ask myself the same questions!

* No “remains” in the title, but Jon did drop the word in relation to Jonah in the episode! It’s almost a tradition titles-wise for episodes pertaining to Jonah (MAG040, “Human Remains”: involved Gertrude, but it was still ~a body found in the tunnels~ (and Elias gave a statement during that episode); MAG092, “Nothing Beside Remains”: letter addressed to Jonah, read by Elias; MAG127, “Remains to be Seen”: letter addressed to Jonah, and Elias speaking for the first time in season 4).

* It’s interesting how the concept that Jonah’s original body had already disappeared made it sound like he was already diminished. The only traces left of Jonah are his eyes (since he transplanted them from body to body), and his consciousness… but he’s not exactly there with Jon&Martin anyway. It’s like he’s partially gone already, and likely doomed to entirely disappear without gaining anything back.

- Aouch for Jon confirming that turning Beholding against himself might result in a disaster:

With Jon still pointing out that he “doesn’t know”. He has ideas, he has fears, but he isn’t sure either; and just like his hesitations in front of the Panopticon, I wonder if it’s not Beholding trying to hold him back by feeding him orientated bits that Jon would interpret as undesirable scenario…? (I’m curious about that mention of “the edges of the fearscape”: it means there might be something still, out of the Fears’ reach?)

- This was the second time Martin sort of “prompted” a statement by orienting Jon towards it:

(MAG167) MARTIN: I bet Gertrude would be able to do this, you know? She, she would eat a hellscape like this for breakfast…! [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: I… don’t think she would have done very well here… MARTIN: No? ARCHIVIST: No… MARTIN: Do you… know that…? [STATIC RISES] ARCHIVIST: [DEEP INHALE] “To say that Gertrude Robinson never had a friend would not be true.”

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And I get why it’s happening (Martin is asking Jon questions about something he didn’t know already, so he has to think about it and search for the answer… and the answer is not that simple, and unearthing information that Jon didn’t know or hadn’t processed, leading to a full statement), but I wonder if it happens specifically thanks to Martin. If Basira were to ask the same questions, would it lead to the same result? I’m thinking again to the hypotheses that had been formulated after MAG160 and Jonah calling Jon an “archive”, with Jon as the archives while Martin could work as an Archivist: given that Martin had sometimes been in the position to ask questions and orientate Jon’s powers, there is a bit of a feeling that Martin is curating Jon’s powers, sometimes…?

- It was almost poetic that Jon began to fall into the statement… precisely when Jonah was narrating about Something emerging under the surface:

(MAG193) MARTIN: … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and cry in panic at their howling crew– ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? ARCHIVIST: Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them– [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] MARTIN: Again? But you just did one for Ro– … Ro… [REALISATION] Oh no…

And then, both Elias and Martin shut the heck up and listened to Jon.

- At this point, I wasn’t expecting a statement about the original Elias anymore! I was curious about it, but didn’t really count on it since Jonny hadn’t seemed that interested in the potential prospect of saying things about him, in the season 4 Q&A (unlike the Admiral question, which clearly gave the impression that he was hiding something specific). Shouldn’t have trusted him on that!

- I was so excited in the first few seconds of Jon’s statement bubble because the sound in the background was once again Elias’s clock, indicating his office!

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES] [PANOPTICON SOUNDS FADE] [CLOCK TICKING IN THE BACKGROUND] [OCCASIONAL RUSTLE OF PAPER] ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes”

Since the beginning of season 5, I was crossing fingers that we would hear the sound of that damn clock again, and we heard in in the last two episodes, so that’s cool!

(… I still wonder if Barnabas’s bones are hidden inside of it.)

- Just Little Interview Things: Martin, Rosie and Elias all noticed Jonah’s eyes.

(MAG170) MARTIN: … At least I’ve got a job now. Did I tell you I’ve got a job? I mean, the interview was weird, I… I don’t really remember the man who talked to me. Just his eyes. They stared at me; th–through me, and… and, I–I knew that he knew what I’d done. God, I…! I was so scared, but… but then he smiled and shook my hand…! What was his name? [CREAKING] He said I “had the job”…! [CHUCKLE] That he “looked forward to working with me”! … I was still so scared I could barely move my arm…! I was so terrified I’d let him down…!

(MAG192) ARCHIVIST: “His eyes, though, were different. There was something in them that… unsettled her. They didn’t match the rest of his face. They were cold, and grey, and somehow so much older.”

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He recognises those eyes. He’s seen them all his life, watching him, judging him, cutting through him so no part of him was secret or safe. They peel away the armour, his carefree smile and practiced shrugs. They are the eyes of his father, and they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. His interviewer smiles with his mouth, but the eyes are the same. […] Elias can’t look this man in the face, and tell him that he is what scares him. That his eyes, the curiosity and judgement that pulses out of them… they terrify him in a way he can’t put into words. He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. […] Those eyes stare, impassive and stern as ever, but… is that a twinkle of satisfaction? As though he has been given him an answer he likes. […] He stops. Those eyes. They know. They can see right through all his bullshit, right to the core of him. They know what he really thinks. […] Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. […] Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

* Elias’s own fears in relation to those eyes and to Jonah’s overall behaviour reminded me of Martin’s a bit, with them being terrorised at the idea of being known, because they knew they had things to hide (including who they were).

* Still howling at the daddy issues/projecting the father image onto Jonah, what a concept.

* It still cracks me up how terrifying and ominous Jonah felt during these interviews… because it’s absolutely not something we could feel about Elias in seasons 1 and 2, when the impressions he gave off were “bland” and “doesn’t exactly know how to exert authority (and gets annoyed at some points when Jon is pushing against that)”. Was he going all out in the interviews overall? Did he get less In Your Face in the 2010s? Did Tim, Sasha and Jon kind of repress how terrifying their own interviews had been, or assumed it was just the jitters colouring their memories? Jonah sounded especially snobbish and haughty in this episode, way more than is usually heard from him: I wonder what part was the tangible, objective truth, and what part was Elias Bouchard’s own perception of him colouring the statement (since Elias was feeling like this guy knew about him and his secrets and had power over him, then he remembered him with these intonations).

* “Sometimes, I’m eating.” he told Basira in season 4 when he was in prison – was he conducting mock interviews on other inmates or officers for dinner.

* That said, I love Jonah’s unsubtly going directly to the point with Elias – immediately aiming for fears, doing his best to be unsettling and make Elias lose his footing and make traumatic memories resurface. I wonder if in this case, it was because Elias “dared” to think he could use the Institute for his own gain and carreer, as if Elias could outsmart him? Or because there was the question of what had brought Elias here? (I! really! want! to! know! about Jon’s own interview!!)

- THE MAHOGANY DESK IS CANON!!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “[…] they stare at Elias over an old mahogany desk, sat in the face of a man who said his name was James Wright. […] Beyond that stretch of polished mahogany, so well waxed that Elias’s pale, sweating face is clearly visible, James Wright’s smile remains unchanged.”

I just can’t believe it’s now canon… because, cough. When I wasn’t yet listening to TMA but trying to gauge whether or not I would like it through fancreations, I had noticed the trend of associating Elias with a letter opener and a mahogany desk in fanfiction (before understanding that oh, okay, no, it’s just that yeah, it fits his aesthetic, but it’s not referring to specific canon things). So this takes me back, and I can’t believe that the damn mahogany desk in Elias’s office was canon all along =D

- I was hoping for a dual statement with lines shared between Jon&Jonah, I was so close yet so far!

(MAG193) [JONAH/ELIAS IS A DARK, STATIC-VOICED ENTITY – EACH LINE A CRACKLING MIX OF DEEP INTONATIONS YET STILL CHARACTERISTICALLY ELIAS] JONAH/ELIAS: So tell me, Elias. What are you afraid of? ARCHIVIST: “Elias Bouchard freezes in place.”

* There could have been the question of whether Jonah’s voice in the statement was the Jonah-in-the-room or emanated in Jon’s statement (like the usual background sounds)… but: it was Jonah!Elias’s voice. It wasn’t Jonah!James’s vocal chords. Plus, unlike the usual sounds and distant voices or breaths in Jon’s statement, Jonah really sounded like something intruding: his voice was clearer and came with glitchy static, as if… two different spheres (domains?) were interacting unnaturally. Jonah’s voice didn’t feel like it was part of the statement: it felt like Jonah was forcing his way to interact in it.

* I loved the play around roles that happened in this statement! In summary: Jon was telling the (third-person, internal focalisation) story of Elias Bouchard, occasionally impersonating him through direct speech, in order to answer to his interviewer from back then, Jonah, who was back then possessing the body of James Wright, and is in the present possessing Elias’s body and speaking through his vocal chords. Jonah gave his lines as Jonah, but the fact that Jon gave Elias’s words, that we got to hear the real Elias through another voice? That was such a pretty installation.

- It’s interesting comparing Elias’s job trajectory because it reminded me of Sasha a bit?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Why would he ask him something like that? Elias is applying for a research job – what the hell does that matter?” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: It was a remarkably fast climb to the top, as from what I can find, it looks like he only joined the Institute five years before, in 1991, working in the Artefact Storage.

(MAG039) SASHA: I’ve had to retreat into Artefact Storage. That should tell you something about how bad it is out there. God, I hate this place. … Did I ever tell you I first joined the Institute as a practical researcher? I had to analyse and investigate all the stuff in here. Take notes after sleeping in the rusted chair, write in the memory book, all that sort of thing. I transferred after three months. Would’ve quit, but couldn’t afford to back then.

So Elias might have been hired as a practical researcher just like Sasha? I wonder if it’s a general researcher thing for new hires at the Institute… (If it is: did it happen to Jon, too? But I’m also having some thoughts about the idea of Jonah sending his potential next hosts there. Wouldn’t have liked for it to happen in canon, but dang, the concept of Jonah!Sasha does have a certain appeal.)

- Not surprising for Magnus but: I love how a few mentions tend to lead the fandom to assume things about characters, and those things turn out to be true, but not the whole truth. Until now, we only had a few allusions to who the real Elias Bouchard was:

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. Elias Bouchard is a difficult man to pin down, certainly since he became head of the Institute in 1996, taking over from James Wright, who ran the place from ‘73 until he passed away. It was a remarkably fast climb to the top, as from what I can find, it looks like he only joined the Institute five years before, in 1991, working in the Artefact Storage. Perhaps he was simply that impressive. Certainly, the Elias I know now is almost unmatched in terms of paranormal knowledge. Well. Theoretical knowledge, at least. And yet, everything I found out about his life before the Institute seems… an ill fit with the austere man I know. He apparently graduated with a Third from Christ Church’s College in PPE, and I found an old gossip column in the student newspaper that – sure well – that mentioned him. If I’m not reading too much into it, the implication seems to be that he was… something of a… pothead. [CHUCKLE] Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?

(MAG154) ERIC: Mary probably thought it was funnier if you didn’t know, and… Wright would have preferred you not to know…! How is he, by the way? GERTRUDE: James? He died about… twelve years ago. Elias is Head of the Institute, now. ERIC: “Elias”? Elias Bouchard, seriously? GERTRUDE: Hm, he has changed a lot. ERIC: Must have!

So: given the degree and the Uni, we could guess he likely came from a posh family and had basically paid to get his degree. We knew the rumours about him doing pot. We knew that it had surprised Eric to learn that this Elias Bouchard would become Head of the Institute. And: all those things are true! Elias indeed, came from a privileged background, indeed smoked weed, indeed wasn’t brilliant, but all these elements got recontextualised with more depth.

* Even Jon immediately wondered if Elias had been a known pothead when he was hired at the Institute… and no, “of course” Elias wasn’t quite that carefree:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “He feels that prickly panic building in the back of his skull, that worry that spills through: he knows. He knows I’m high…! The thought leaps to Elias’s mind for only a second before he remembers that… he’s not. He hasn’t lit up all day, of course not, he’s got an interview. But even so, he can’t shake the familiar paranoia. He looks again at his would-be employer, who seems like he’s about to repeat the question. “Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” […] JONAH/ELIAS: Now tell me: why do you want this job? ARCHIVIST: “Elias tries not to visibly sigh with relief. This, at least, is a question to which he has prepared an answer. He clears his throat slightly, shaking off the lingering image of Allan’s body. “W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–”

He was still a regular smoker, but he came sober and had prepared for that interview! He wanted that job and had done his research to perform well! (Which, honestly, is… not a given in interviews.)

* The posh family thing was… kind of heart-breaking, actually:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “They know what he really thinks. A position in a small, obscure little academic organisation, the first step on a path to the position he actually deserves. This place could be anything, as far as he is concerned. Medical research, a grant foundation… it doesn’t really matter. […] His father’s words came to him again, as they always had, through childhood, boarding school, university. “You’re a smart boy, Elias, but you’re lazy. You have every advantage that I and this world could possibly provide, and yet you insist on squandering them! Don’t think I don’t see you, looking at those other children with envy, as though their meaningless little lives could contain anything of substance, anything for a Bouchard to aspire to. You are better than them, and they know it. And it is your job to prove worthy of that distinction.” Elias’s stomach tightened at the memory, the fierce judgement in his father’s eyes. Even laid out in a casket, it was as if he had looked at Elias with disdain. What should he say? [PIANO STOPS] That he had no idea why he wanted this job? That he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family, nothing but the deep certainty that he deserved better. That he was destined to be important. That it was in his blood.”

There was something plain sad about Elias’s upbringing – how, sure, he came from a privileged family, but he was also looked down on by his own father, who still hammered a toxic mindset into him to the point that even when his father died… Elias still felt like his only possible role was the one his father had attributed him. It reminded me a bit of the statement in MAG180, about the abusive mother still haunting the victim even through death, and the feeling that they could never escape her influence.

And the feeling of superiority made Elias unpleasant! And he had already benefitted from his family by getting a degree he had barely earned! And got the advantage of knowing the social/expected cues to get what he wanted (hence using the right vocabulary and reasons to get hired during his interview)! And he might have grown up continuing to be a terrible person, unable to change this mindset and fucking lots of people over, like the privileged class tend to do! … But from what we know of him, he didn’t have the time to do that last part, or even to possibly change and free himself from a mindset that was also poisoning him. It’s like Jon had pointed out to the Distortion, about “classic” Helen:

(MAG187) HELEN: You haven’t looked into Helen-Classic’s past yet? You should try it! I don’t think you’ll like what you find. ARCHIVIST: What, lying to real estate clients? Bit of a prick at parties? Secret Tory? HELEN: Yes. To all of them, actually. [BAG JOSTLING] [FOOTSTEPS STOP] ARCHIVIST: And that’s the problem. I could have grown to dislike her, but… you made sure that sort of thing could never happen. Now you use her form, see her mind, but they’re just… tools. [BUILDING CREAKS] Michael had nothing you could use but a razor-straight desire for vengeance, but you saw something in Helen that would work on me much more subtly. So you took her. And I’ll never get to dislike her. I’m stuck disliking you instead.

Maybe the real Elias could have grown into an awful, powerful adult man. Maybe he could have changed and unlearned his father’s toxic lessons. We don’t know; he didn’t manage to achieve much and got eaten by a bigger shark when Jonah took possession of his body, and we’re stuck disliking Jonah instead. I like how it worked both as an exploration of how the privileged class tend to entertain myths about themselves, how they reproduce their awful mindset from generation to generation, leading them to perceive themselves as “superior” and deserving of more (we all have those political and economical classes, sadly), but also how that requires fucking these same people over until they conform to that mould and these expectations.

* I love how it turned out that even the “pothead” thing didn’t feel like it was unrelated to the fact that Elias had his own issues: he didn’t come from a loving family, was often high… and he also resorted to drugs to help Allan calm down. (Which was the worst thing he could do: don’t give drugs to a friend when you suspect they’re hallucinating.) It felt like the drug thing really was his way to cope, hence trying to get Allan out of his spiral through it…

- I’m screaming again at Jonah’s relationship with The Web – SPILL IT, WHAT DO YOU KNOW, WHAT WERE YOUR OWN WEB EXPERIENCES, ASSHOLE.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““Spiders,” Elias says quickly. “I’m afraid of spiders.” James Wright nods, the smile curling into one of satisfaction, though Elias is sure the man doesn’t believe him. Those eyes break contact for a moment, flicking up to the corner of the office where… at the edge of a bookshelf that sags with age and weight, a small cobweb has started to form.” JONAH/ELIAS: Very wise. A very… sensible fear. ARCHIVIST: “It is. Yeah, it is. But is it… true? For a moment, Elias really can’t remember. Right here and now, the thought of a spider genuinely repulses him. The image of a scuttling, filthy creature, eight eyes glinting out in the darkness, crawls into his mind, and he shudders, looking away for a second. [SHUFFLING] But the uninvited thought keeps going. [SCUTTLING SOUNDS] He imagines the spider moving up his leg, his body; he imagines feeling its bristling hairs against the skin of his shoulder, his throat, his cheek. Its spindly probing legs finding their way up his face. Elias can’t stop himself picturing that spider sat there, venom dripping from fangs that hang, poised over his eye. He can’t shut his eye.”

* Was it just a random cobweb. Was it a signal from The Web that it had been what sent Elias to Jonah.

* “a small cobweb has started to form” was such an amazing wording because: 1°) if you take the sentence literally, it means that the web is forming itself (no spider is weaving it) – it’s just appearing, like a trap or a story, as a mirror to Elias who is sealing his own fate by joining the Institute, 2°) if you assume it implies that a spider is creating that web… where is the spider? Is it hiding behind the bookshelf or somewhere in the office? Is it Jonah himself? (Web!Jonah Web!Jonah Web!Jonah…)

* Elias’s vision was SO CHILLING. The sounds effects (spiders scuttling) were terrible; the gradation was terrible; the last picture was horrible (Web as a predator for Beholding?). What was it, exactly? Jonah implanting the mental picture into Elias’s head? A forgotten memory from Elias? A premonition of what was to come…?

- I gushed about the office clock but: just like with Rosie, the memories following each other had all their distinctive sound effects. Jonah’s office had the clock. The memories of Allan’s corpse and of Allan’s last night had a sort of fast-paced metronome in the background. The memories of Elias finding Allan with his book at the library had another clock, also a bit faster than in Elias’s office. The alternations built up the anxiety and tension, gave the impression that everything was accelerating, and that time was just following its course – that it was impossible to go against it.

(It reminded me of the clock in Jon’s hospital room, when Oliver gave his statement in MAG121, reinforcing the story Oliver was giving about the impossibility of escape: “That was it. That was our fate. Where we would always be. Because I was going to take us there. Running was pointless. To try and to escape from my task would only serve to fulfil another.”)

- The book Allan came across didn’t seem to have the Leitner bookplate, but that doesn’t mean anything about the nature of the book itself since Leitner was just applying his mark on pre-existing books. Still: we know that Elias joined the Institute in 1991, so those memories took place before the fall of Leitner’s library (which happened in 1994):

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Allan is in the library, irritated at the interruption, but happy to see a friendly face. The whites of his eyes are riddled with the scarlet veins of sleeplessness, but his hand trembles with a feverish energy as he tries to explain the significance of the book he’s found. Even sober, Elias couldn't have followed what his friend was saying, lost in layers of theological scholarship – but he smiles anyway to see the reserved young Allan so passionate about his subject. He looks at the book itself. It’s old, crumbling, with none of the usual college library markings. He asks Allan where he got it, and his friend doesn’t answer, instead glancing around with a sudden self-conscious suspicion. Elias shuffles round to get a closer look at the pages, then stops in confusion, as he realises they are all blank. Allan only laughs when he says so. Was the laughter really that cruel…? Or is it just the warping of memory, the past he tries to forget, mixed with the nightmares that came after, the faces he dreamed of seeing in those pages.”

* Once again, where did these books come from…? Did they directly emanate from the Fears? Were they part of older Archivists’ collections, were they statements from older times? Were they part of Johann von Württemberg’s tomb, did Jonah let the books free to ensure that they would terrorise more people and create more Fears? … Are Jon’s own tapes forming another collection through another medium…?

* I wonder whether the blank pages meant that Elias wasn’t under the book’s spell, or whether it meant that whatever horrors it contained had been freed already. Jon had noted that when MAG125’s book had been found blank, it had seemed like it didn’t have any power left:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Another Leitner, obviously. Not one I can readily identify, though it sounds like it would now be… “inert”, anyway. Given the blank pages, I do wonder whether its destruction was a… last-ditch effort to stop its effects, or the exact thing that released its power in such an… extreme way.

But we also had Albrecht’s case, where the pages were blank to Fanshawe’s eyes while Albrecht didn’t find anything strange with them, though those might not have been the original books in the first place…

(MAG127, Jonathan Fanshawe) “I do not know how he died. I saw nothing and no one with him, and his body seemed whole and undamaged. But I do have some idea as to why it happened. For as I filled those dead shelves with freshly bound volumes… I could not help but notice that every page was blank. I have since checked with Payne’s, who I believe to be your preferred bookbinders. And I know that the books poor Albrecht was returning to the grave… were not the books that were taken. I hope they bring you much wisdom, Jonah, for the cost was dear enough.”

Overall, there were a lot of elements reminding me of Albrecht’s discovery in the Black Forest, though it might just have been Beholding Things:

(MAG022, Albrecht von Closen) “It was the man from the cemetery. His wide brimmed hat was removed and he stared at me. His head was completely bald, and his eyes were missing. They were just empty sockets but they stared at me. They saw me. Believe or dismiss anything else in my letter as you wish Jonah, but I swear to you that I stood face to face with a man with no eyes and he saw me.” […] ARCHIVIST: Something else I stumbled across quite by accident during my research was in Grim Tales, H.T. Moncreef’s exploration of unexplained and macabre deaths in early 19th century Europe. It mentions a death that took place in Schramberg in 1816. The man, one Rudolph Ziegler, was found dead at his home on the outskirts of town. What is interesting is that it says he worked in service on an estate nearby. Shortly after his death, one Wilhelm von Closen was investigated for the crime, as it was discovered the dead man had been stealing jewellery from the estate. It was eventually dropped however, after four doctors attested that the ferocity of the wounds inflicted on Herr Ziegler were, and I quote, “beyond the capability of human violence”. It was ruled an animal attack.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““It saw me,” Allan keeps saying, over and over again, “It saw me through the pages. And it’s coming.” He sees it, he says, in every mirror, every distant doorway, a silhouette on every skyline. Coming closer, each and every time, finding its way towards him, step by step. “It has no eyes,” Allan sobs, “so it has to feel its way towards me. But it knows. It knows!”

[…] When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory.”

- ;; The snippets of Elias and Allan’s relationship were so sad… Elias was intoxicated, granted, but the fact he was just happy to see Allan’s enthusiasm all the while he couldn’t understand anything about it? The fact that he tried to get him high to make him feel better:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has no way to comfort him. He can’t even understand what he’s talking about. And so on that, the last night of Allan Schreiber’s life… [LIGHTER BEING TURNED ON] he just gets him high, and leaves him to sleep it off.”

… and that was the last time he saw him alive…?

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “When the light comes on, Elias has no idea how much of the crimson that bathes the scene is from the blood on the walls, how much from the blood that tints the lightbulb, and how much is simply the shading of his memory. But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes…? What did they do with his eyes?”

- Delighted about the glimpse regarding the Institute offering Actual Documentation:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““W–well,” he begins, “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers on Indo-European traditions which was very useful for my dissertation on–””

There had been a few references to people getting or not the credentials to consult the library, and Melanie had required Jon to vouch for her and grant her access to it back in season 2, but I think this is the first time we hear about actual publications from Institute researchers! And it’s not a big surprise that they would be involved in mythology studies and the likes – outside of the Archives, it felt like the Institute was working like a “normal” academic institution, so it feels logical that they would research what was believed to be supernatural in older civilisations.

- I’m still laughing so much at the piano playing Chopin’s “Funeral March” in the background when the flashback with Elias’s father happened. And then, it jumped to him being dead and in the casket.

- Gotta love the tradition of Jonah only hiring people who were isolated and/or had an experience with the supernatural.

* Elias pointed out in his statement that his father had already died and that he had no connections anymore, when he joined the Institute (“he was all alone in the world, no friends, no family”), and he had lost his friend Allan to a Beholding creature in uni (so, a matter of a few years or months before).

* Michael Shelley had lost his friend Ryan to a Spiral creature, thus leading him to the Institute (MAG101: “After much searching and despair, it drove him into the waiting arms of the Institute, where he met Gertrude Robinson.”).

* Rosie had just divorced and was left bereft (MAG192: “Because I let my imagination and paranoia wreck my marriage, and now I’ve got nothing; and if I don’t get a job, I’m just sitting around an empty flat staring into space.”), and she might have had a Corruption encounter as a kid (or it was just mundane insects).

* Martin had to drop out of school to provide for his own mother at seventeen, so there was likely no more family he could rely on around him.

* Jon’s only family member was his grandmother, who died roughly around the time he joined the Institute. He’d already had a Web encounter as a child, knew that the supernatural existed, and Jonah pointed out that his Web mark may have been a reason to hire him (MAG081, MAG160).

* The Stranger took Danny, prompting Tim to join the Institute – and Elias had pointed out that he already knew the broad gist of Tim’s feelings (MAG104: “I knew there was some trauma that drew you to us, but I can’t say I ever thought to look much deeper. An oversight, perhaps, but I’m looking now.”).

* Melanie came back with a recent Slaughter mark and her entire network collapsed around her (MAG084: “God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?” “The end of what?” “Everything. Friends, clues, savings. Everything. Options. There’s nowhere left for me to go. I don’t know why, but… I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help.”), leading Jonah to NYOOM onto her spectacularly fast.

* Basira had more than her fair share of Section 31-worthy encounters and mentioned her father in the past tense (MAG117).

Gotta love how apparently, any orphan-or-almost with a supernatural encounter could waltz into the Institute and technically get hired. You don’t have many connections around you and you’re traumatised? Have fun working here, job is yours.

- I’m SUPER interested in the moment Elias began to get self-conscious about his presence there, asking himself why… and not being able to answer.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “… Where had he heard about this job opening? Had it been in a newspaper? He knew no-one who worked here, but received a letter anyway inviting him to interview. [SHUFFLING] Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t even sent out a CV. Yet somehow he found himself sat across from this man, whose smile hadn’t moved the whole time – and whose eyes seemed to know why he was here far better than he did.”

We’ve had cases of people being drawn to the Institute after their trauma: Tim wanted to understand what had happened to his brother, Jon might have wanted to understand the forces at play behind the Mr Spider book, Michael Shelley was drawn to the Institute in the same way, etc. In their cases, we can’t really know how much was their own curiosity and how much the Institute itself influenced them to head its way (if there is any difference): was it Beholding attracting people with trauma behind their curiosity? Was it The Web pushing a few people to go to the Institute, such as Jon? But whatever drew Elias towards the Institute, there is the fact that he apparently received a letter although he hadn’t submitted his CV in the first place… so who had sent it? I didn’t feel like it was Jonah (though his questions could have been rhetorical); was it specifically The Web, sending someone already traumatised by a Beholding encounter and the fear of getting his eyes stolen? Did Jonah interpret it as a gift from The Web (kind of “here, this is your next host”), just like he had with Jon, hence him looking at the cobweb forming in his office?

(MAG160, Jonah Magnus) “I’ll admit my options were somewhat limited, but – my God! When you came to me already marked by The Web, I knew it had to be you. I even held out some small hope you had been sent by the Spider as a sort of… implicit blessing on my whole project, and… do you know what? I think it was…!”

- Favourite moment of the episode: when Jonah cuttingly asked Elias why he had come here.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: ““I, uh…” Elias’s voice wavered, paused. “I’ve always had the greatest respect for the work put out by this institute on mythological traditions, especially some of the recent papers [STATIC RISES] on Indo-European traditions which was very–” JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.” JONAH/ELIAS: Good. The job is yours.

* Jonah’s questions suddenly getting razor-sharp.

* Elias absolutely losing his façade and answering quickly, straight to the point. Did Jonah actually compel him back then…?

* The fact that the scene worked on three levels: as James interrogating Elias within the story; as Jonah interrogating Jon in the present… with the additional level of Jonah interrogating Jon from the past, maybe – asking why Jon had come to the Institute six years ago.

* The dread coming from Jon’s voice! It was impossible to guess whether he was still fully impersonating Elias’s own, or if it was Jon himself, breaking character and getting startled by the questions.

* It was terrifying as ~Jon answering to Jonah in the present as to why he had come back to the Panopticon~: when Jon answered “this is the place I know I should be”, it already introduced the idea that he was ~meant~ to take Jonah’s place as The Eye’s pupil…

- I wonder whether Elias had actually gotten that flash in the past:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “Elias has the briefest of flashes – a sudden burst of terror, an image of himself, strapped down, helpless. [STATIC FADES] [DISTANT LOUD, ECHOING SOUNDS] The vanishing of well-known faces, and the harsh sneers that replace them as they stare at him. He cannot move. He cannot scream. What is happening? What is it, that he feels deep down in his skull? What are they doing to his eyes? This… presence, old and rotten, in his mind? He can do nothing but watch.”

* That last sentence was such a Beholding mood.

* Was it a memory of James Wright’s own demise, as Jonah had invaded his body, that Jonah had been tauntingly showing Elias? Was it a retroactive fast-forward: Elias, knowing of his fate, colouring the memories of his interviews with what would happen to him? Or was it a genuine premonition which had hit Elias back in 1991, with the idea that Elias’s fate was sealed when Jonah told him “The job is yours.”, and that his only future would be the one we knew of – that in five years, he would become Jonah’s next host…? (Beholding’s powers had never been about seeing the future, though, and Jon has pointed out this season that he couldn’t know about it entirely…)

- Ahahah for the end of the statement reminding me of Jon’s own words in the liveshow…

(MAG000) ROSIE: ARCHIVIST: Yes, thank you Rosie. … Oh, do tell Elias thank you. For the opportunity.

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: “The moment passes, and Elias returns to himself. He tries to smile, and thanks his new employer for the opportunity.”

SOB.

- On the one hand, it’s been two statements at the top on the Panopticon already, and on the other hand, I can’t help but hope for a less-flattering Jonah statement extracted/told by Jon (bonus point if it does include the scene of Jon’s own hiring interview or promotion)…

Interestingly, the last two episodes have been digging progressively deeper into the past: Rosie’s statement began after “Elias” became Head of the Institute, with her interview, and followed the events surrounding the Archival staff until the Change (late 2015 – October 2018). Then Elias’s covered the pre-Jonah!Elias years, with his interview and a flashback into Elias’s recent past with Allan and a few other memories.

- At the start of the episode, Martin had the reflex to call Jonah “Elias” before correcting himself, which is something that happened almost systematically all through this season, both from Jon and from Martin:

(MAG161) MARTIN: [SIGH] Gloating, Jon. [CREAKING SOUND] Elias won, and there were some tapes he’d kept for himself, and he wanted to gloat. So, he sent them! ARCHIVIST: He’s not… MARTIN: I–I don’t see– ARCHIVIST: … “Elias”.

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…! […] MARTIN: Do you think it’ll do anything? Confronting Elias?

(MAG164) MARTIN: What about Elias? [STATIC INCREASES] ARCHIVIST: He’s inside the Panopticon; the Tower, far above the world.

(MAG167) ARCHIVIST: Annabelle, help us with “what”? Our–our, our journey, killing Elias, vanishing the Entities – what?

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever.

(MAG177) ARCHIVIST: I didn’t mean to, Elias was… We were all playing out this big ritual for him. With me as the lynchpin, the gate. […] BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

(MAG178) MARTIN: It’s, it’s fine. [INHALE] We’ll just have to tie them all up in one go! ARCHIVIST: Hm? MARTIN: [SIGH] Around Elias’s neck.

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…! […] What, like with Peter and Elias? […] Whatever happens with Elias, wi–, with the rest of the world… I can’t live on the misery of others.

(MAG187) ARCHIVIST: I see. How long have you been working with Elias?

(MAG188) ARCHIVIST: I suppose they don’t get many new faces around here. MARTIN: Especially not the Archivist…! Don’t forget you’re a celebrity! ARCHIVIST: Maybe. Or maybe it’s Elias’s personal welcome wagon.

(MAG189) ARCHIVIST: Uh, m–me versus Elias – Jonah, we… We both draw power from The Eye.

(MAG190) ARCHIVIST: I was… the catalyst, I–I didn’t… Elias– Jonah Magnus used me.

(MAG192) MARTIN: [CALLING] Elias! Jonah, Jonah Magnus!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Well… we came here to confront Elias– urgh, Jonah, whatever!

(Most notable exceptions being when Jon was approaching the Panopticon in MAG189, and tended to allude to him as “Jonah (Magnus)”, and when he told Rosie that they had an appointment with him).

At the end of this episode, though, Jon thought to make the distinction:

(MAG193) MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. […] If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place.

I wonder if from now on (well, for the 7 episodes left…), Jon&Martin will have less trouble calling him “Jonah” instead of “Elias” like before. It was understandable that they would call him “Elias”, since they had always known him as such… but now, we have had a glimpse at who the real Elias was. It might help them to accept to conceptually distinguish the two?

- It sounded to me that Jonah stopped his chant when Jon gave his statement:

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –she can’t resist the waves that lap and drag her over and across the surface still as cracked obsidian but deeper that the world could ever dream as something wakes and shifts below they grab the wheel and cry in panic at their howling crew to ready for a harrowed doomed escape– ARCHIVIST: Sorry, it isn’t that… Ah… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –from what begins to rise below them… [CEASLESS CHANTING CEASES] […] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky–

Jonah’s chant wasn’t incoherent in itself: it followed a succession of scenes and pictures, but there was still a logic through that flow. When Jon began to give his statement, the scene was taking place at sea, with a “they” subject (I think there was a gender-neutral victim and a plural “they” in the same scene?); when his chant resumed afterwards, the scene and subjects were the same as before. So it’s likely that it’s not just that we couldn’t hear Jonah anymore, but he flat-out interrupted himself. If this is indeed the case: does it mean that every time Jon gave a statement this season, Jonah stopped his own litanies of horror? And since Jon pointed out that Jonah is now part of The Eye: does it mean that Beholding can’t focus on two “statements” at a time and/or that it will prioritise Jon’s own litanies of horrors when he has to tell them?

It reminds me of Elias’s own known weak spot, as it had been used against him in season 3:

(MAG110) BASIRA: Or maybe when he’s not paying attention. MARTIN: Mm? BASIRA: Distracted, like, during your, hum, your performance review. MELANIE: Wait, what do you mean? MARTIN: Yeah, what…? BASIRA: Well, I was heading out, and… Martin, you remember you knocked over that huge stack of papers? MARTIN: Hey, hey, they shouldn't have been there in the first place. Besides, I cleaned them up. BASIRA: But not in the right order. MARTIN: [HUFF INDIGNANTLY] BASIRA: And… when I brought them up to Elias yesterday, he asked why they were messed up. MARTIN: Y– … you didn’t tell him it was me? BASIRA: … It’s not the point, Martin. The point is– MELANIE: He wasn’t watching you! He was busy.

(MAG118) ELIAS: Now, if you’re quite done, I am very busy. MARTIN: Oh sorry! Sorry, I’m not keeping you from the show, am I? W–well, well you head back, I’ll keep myself busy here. Albrecht von Closen is next, [PAPER RUSTLE] I think.

(MAG120) ELIAS: I knew you were all planning something, of course, but I didn’t believe you specifically would have the, uh… capacity for boldness that you displayed. Hm! It took me quite by surprise. MARTIN: You didn’t just see it in me? ELIAS: Honestly, I didn’t look. For all my power, I will admit I am not immune to making the occasional lazy assumption. I presumed that I knew you thoroughly but, by the time you demonstrated otherwise… well. There was simply too much to keep watching over. I only have two eyes, after all.

So, mm… if this is the case, Beholding turning its focus on Jon might be used against it, in the same way? I don’t know what for but… there was that this episode.

- Even Martin noticed the difference ;;

(MAG193) [STATIC RISES AND FADES] [THE PANOPTICON SOUNDS RESUME] ARCHIVIST: [TREMBLING GASP] JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): … as they look down to see the pitch-black void of ocean getting darker still as something rises up that dwarfs the sky– MARTIN: Are you all right? That was… intense. ARCHIVIST: Yeah… Uh… I just… uhh… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –and yet they know it is the smallest tip–

I really wonder how that statement looked, from the outside (or at least from Martin’s point of view). Did Jonah lower himself closer to Jon to say his lines as “James Wright”? Did the whole room change and show the “set” of Jonah’s office, and then of Elias’s university days?

- I’m super-impressed that Martin managed to keep track of his initial question!

(MAG193) MARTIN: Right. [SIGH] Right, right, right. … Is the original Elias still in there somewhere? ARCHIVIST: He’s, uh, I– MARTIN: Maybe we could get through to him somehow? […] Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done.

And that he immediately connected that it was probably the statement of a person – not of an overview of them like Jon had done with Gertrude.

Jon’s answer, though ;; It had been a huge fandom interrogation after the Jonah reveal: was the original Elias still in there somehow? Watching and being unable to do anything sounded like a fitting Beholding torture, and the statement toyed with the concept too (“He can do nothing but watch.”). In the end, we still don’t know when Elias’s consciousness faded (when Jonah took full possession of his body? Gradually over the years? When the Change happened?), just that he’s not there anymore.

- Lots to cry about when it comes to Jon’s reveals and Martin’s reactions:

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: There was never anything we could have done. But I–I saw… MARTIN: What? ARCHIVIST: You were right. MARTIN: About what? ARCHIVIST: His body is vulnerable. A–at least to me. MARTIN: … What’s the catch? ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… JONAH/ELIAS (BACKGROUND): –of those fools like them now caught and wrapped– ARCHIVIST: … it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god…

* Martin immediately understanding that no, it’s not a Good scenario, that there is a cost or negative consequences coming with it. (Well, or he was simply able to read the room: Jon would have been happier, if it was a hopeful option.)

* Martin was so keen to kill Elias for the whole season:

(MAG174) MARTIN: Thanks for that. … Hang on, you’re still down to kill Elias, right? Uh, oh, Jonah, whatever. ARCHIVIST: I’m still going to confront him. [INHALE] I don’t know if killing him is something I’m even… capable of, but if I can and I have to, I will. MARTIN: Yeeah? ARCHIVIST: Don’t worry. I won’t hesitate. MARTIN: … Right.

(MAG177) BASIRA: … So what’s your plan? MARTIN: Long-term? Elias. He’s up in that that… “Panopticon” tower thing.

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

(MAG186) MARTIN: If I’d done what Peter had asked… If, if I’d not chickened out, and just killed Elias when I had the chance…!

(MAG189) MARTIN: This is it, then. ARCHIVIST: This is what? MARTIN: Don’t play dumb. It’s the final battle, right? We… climb the tower, take out the bad guy, figure out how to change the world back, and back in time for tea! Right?

… And we had loads of hints leading us to believe that Jonah was either dead already (well, in a way, he already is), and/or that killing him would not change anything to the situation (confirmed!), as already displayed with the domains’ rulers getting exterminated by Jon without leading to any improvement for the victims (Not!Sasha, Jude, Jared) – at the very least, we could guess that Martin was very unlikely to actually get to take his negative feelings out on Jonah.

I love the little twist that this is actually worse than that: if they were to kill him, it would mean losing Jon too, yay!

* Overall, it’s very fitting with the season 5 exploration? Martin focused so much on Jonah who, granted, was the one to scheme for the apocalypse to happen, but he’s now confirmed to just be another cog in the Fear machine – and just like a cog, he’s replaceable. The problem has always been the Fears themselves.

- Jon has been shutting down a lot of options regarding what he could do and what might happen, lately:

(MAG191) MARTIN: … Jon. If… When we defeat The Eye, the Fears… What happens to you? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: Nothing good. I think it depends on what actually happens. If we figure out a way to defeat them, banish them somehow, kick them out of our reality and back to where they came from, I might… survive? I think I’d stay more or less like this; w–weaker, but fundamentally… still an avatar in a world where the Fears are… once again lurking on the edges. MARTIN: … But I assume that’s the best case scenario? ARCHIVIST: Depends on your point of view, I guess. In the long term all we’d have done is… bought some more time. … If, however, we… find a way to destroy or, uh… eliminate the Powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s… too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just… die. Maybe I survive, but I–I lose… something. My identity? My mind? My… memories? I don’t know.

(MAG193) MARTIN: And, I’m guessing you can’t… just destroy him like the others? ARCHIVIST: No. God knows what would happen if I called upon The Eye to try and destroy a… vital piece of itself. ARCHIVIST: In the best case scenario, nothing happens. MARTIN: And worst case? ARCHIVIST: No idea…! An enormous explosion that… destroys the world? We get torn apart, but… still suffering, o–or cast off to the edges of the fearscape, maybe? I… I don’t know. […] MARTIN: O–or–or, what about, hum… That’s Elias’s body, right? I mean, yeah, they’re obviously Magnus’s eyes, but that’s still a Bouchard body up there so… So maybe, Magnus’s original body is just… still lying around here somewhere? That, that was a weakness before the transformation, so… maybe we could still use that! ARCHIVIST: It’s gone. Ashes swept away by the winds of ecstatic terror. What you see up there is all that remains. […] MARTIN: Was that the real Elias, is he still in there then? ARCHIVIST: No… No, it, it was… an echo. The last spasm of a corpse. I–it’s far too late for either of them. MARTIN: Oh, damn. […] ARCHIVIST: I could kill his body, sever the link, break The Eye’s power, and… Jonah Magnus would die. MARTIN: Okay, that sounds good but…? ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement.

And I really wonder if it’s to discard these options, or to introduce them as concepts because some are indeed meant to happen…

- I’m screaming that Jon’s realisation explains so well what had happened back at the cabin:

(MAG162) ARCHIVIST: “This place wishes to be our tomb. But The Eye does not wish that. No. [STATIC RISES] The Eye wishes instead that it be my chrysalis. [WOODEN CREAKING SOUND] It is time that I emerge…” [STATIC REACHING A PEAK] […] MARTIN: Look, Jon, I… I, I know it hurts, but you’ve just got to… ARCHIVIST: No, no, lo–look… I, I–I was listening, and I–I was filled with this… hatred. This anger; I–I wanted to leave, and hunt down Elias, a–and…!

(MAG193) ARCHIVIST: But… that wouldn’t actually harm The Eye itself. And with him gone it would… it would choose a suitable replacement. MARTIN: Oh. ARCHIVIST: If we kill Jonah Magnus… I take his place. MARTIN: Oh, god… ARCHIVIST: And I think… that’s exactly what it wants…!

That explains why Beholding wanted Jon to leave the cabin! And why Jon had felt that rush of violence towards Elias: it was pushing Jon to discard Elias and take his place! And that also explains why Jon felt the pull so strongly in the Panopticon – Beholding was eager.

(MAG191) MARTIN: The Eye isn’t, like… calling you, or something? ARCHIVIST: Oh, no i–it is. But I can’t get a… clear reading on it down here, i–it’s kind of maddening, actually? Like… being on a street you almost remember but… can’t find on a map.

(MAG192) MARTIN: Not keeping you, am I? ARCHIVIST: S–, No, I–, it’s just… I, uh… MARTIN: What, you’re not tired? ARCHIVIST: Oh no, believe me, I am! It’s just, uh… It’s kind of… difficult not to keep climbing? MARTIN: What, like… you’re being called? ARCHIVIST: More like… pulled. Gently, but very definitely upwards, towards the top. MARTIN: That… could be a bad sign. ARCHIVIST: Probably…! Too late to bail now, though.

(MAG193) JONAH/ELIAS: Enough. Tell me: why are you here? ARCHIVIST: “I… I don’t know.” JONAH/ELIAS: Were you drawn here? ARCHIVIST: “… Yes. I was.” JONAH/ELIAS: Against your will? ARCHIVIST: “No.” JONAH/ELIAS: Then why did you heed the call? ARCHIVIST: “Because… this is the place I know I should be.”

We got a glimpse of what Beholding was trying to push for, there is still the question of the reasons behind it. Without ascribing it a sentience, why would Beholding prefer Jon as its conduit? Is it because Jon’s dreams ended with Jon being part of it, and that it feels like a natural evolution, that Beholding is seeking the completion it used to get with Jon’s dreams?

(MAG120) ELIAS: “At last, he looks into The Eye that sees all, and knows all, and clutches at the secret terrors of your heart. The Ceaseless Watcher of all that is, and all that was; the voracious, infinite hunger that tears at his soul, invoking him to discover, to observe, to experience all and everything and forever. It stares into him, and it stares out of him, and he is falling into the devouring eternity of its pupil. He wants to cry out in horror – but he cannot. He. is. whole.”

Is it because unlike Jonah, Jon has been reading statements and feeding Beholding? Is it because of Jon’s nature as an Archivist? Would any of the other Archivists down there be fitting for the position, then? Is it because of Jon’s ability to fear? Is it because Jon, although controlled by Jonah’s script, was the one to “open the door”?

- Relatedly, reminder that we still don’t know what and where Jon’s domain is. Is it friggin�� Beholding itself.

- I’m worried about Martin, I’m really worried about Martin since now, Jon has explained that it was possible to take Jonah’s place as Beholding’s pupil… and Martin had once been set up to replace Jonah in his seat of power…

(MAG158) MARTIN: But, I don’t understand, why are we here? PETER: It’s quite simple, really…! I want to use the powers of this place to learn about The Extinction: what it’s doing, where it’s manifesting. Then we can stop it. MARTIN: And you need me for this? PETER: Correct! Without a connection to The Eye, any attempt to use it would likely end… very messily indeed! But thankfully, it just so happens that you hold such a connection. MARTIN: So that’s it… Both “lonely” and “watching”. PETER: You must admit you’re the perfect candidate. MARTIN: I suppose I am. PETER: There is… of course… just one other complication? [FOOTSTEPS STOP] You’ll have to dispose of the current occupant.

What would happen if someone strongly powered by another power were to become The Eye’s pupil? Would it affect Beholding as a whole?

- Since MAG192 and MAG193 followed each other without a gap between tape, I wonder whether that will be the case for MAG194 too. Will we go back to Jon and Martin at the Panopticon, in front of Jonah, with Martin reacting to what Jon just concluded (that Beholding might have called him there specifically to get him to take Jonah’s place)? Will we go back to them after a small interruption? Will they be back down in the tunnels to think about their options and share with the class (Melanie&Georgie)? Or would Beholding stop them from leaving the room? Will they be joined by Annabelle, or will Annabelle send a message their way? Basira was on her way to London, too – if she were to arrive, that might be an occasion to withdraw and regroup, if the building let them…

I’m going to do this every time, now, but: seven episodes to go. At this point in time in previous seasons, we had only just met Tim and heard about “Peter Lukas” for the first time, Basira had given Jon her statement about Maxwell Rayner’s death (with Jon pondering who had tipped off Section 31 to allow them to find him – that was later revealed to have been Elias himself), Martin had been very tempted to touch the plastic explosive and Jon had read a letter sent by Adelard Dekker for the first time, Julia&Trevor had trailed after Jon after having discovered that he had taken Gerry’s page from “their” book, threatening him (and introducing their future raid on the Institute), and Jon had discovered that Daisy was slowly dying from Hunt deprivation but was still keen to not give in. There is still so much that could happen…?

MAG194’s title has me a bit at a loss: it’s easy to picture a few configurations for the first level meaning (Jon and Martin? Jonah and Beholding? Jon&Martin and Melanie&Georgie?), but I’m really at a loss when trying to picture a second meaning…? Unless it’s about a recurring item such as Jon’s lighter or Salesa’s camera? Or about someone (Annabelle?) revealing things…?

#the magnus archives #tma season 5 #long post/#tma liveblog #mag193

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residentsocialfailure · 4 years

Text

Thoughts on MAG 190

because I have many, and I’m so excited this show is finally back.

God, hearing that intro again. Gives me chills. I missed this.

Lowri! Helen! For some reason I was thinking they might have only been a part of the trailer, without actually being major characters. I’m so happy I was wrong. Fucking love them. Helen has always been, and always will be, my favorite Rusty Quiller.

“They sometimes go to a side tunnel, for.. private contemplation.” 2 minutes in, and Jonny reveals that wtgfs like to sneak off to go make out. I love it.

First tape recorder appearance. Oh shit. Interesting that they eye doesn’t work super well in the tunnels, yet it still appears. Hmmm.

“First name terms with The Prophets. Bit disrespectful.” Oh, I missed his sass. Jon is so good.

Hiding out in Leitner’s old haunt. Interesting. I wonder if there are any of his books still lying around, and if the fearpocalypse has affected them at all.

“Celia?” Martin recognizes her? Is she the same girl Lowri played in MAG 100?

Oh, I missed Melanie so much. She’s so good, and her disdain for Jon is wonderful. God, I hope nothing bad happens to her.

Helen is Melanie’s therapist! That’s amazing. I love it.

I don’t know why Georgie trying repeatedly to destroy the never-ending tape recorders is so funny to me, but it is.

I’m so glad they’re getting to talk. I missed Georgie, and her not really being there for Jon in S4 always made me kind of sad. I mean, it was totally understandable. and she had to do what was best for her too, but still. I’m glad that she’s acknowledging it though, and saying that she wasn’t really being fair to Jon, and didn’t understand what was really going on. I just love all of these people so much. I feel like this exchange is probably really important for Jon too.

An endless supermarket? That’s super convenient. Just trying to figure out how that would work as a fearscape. Husbands who were sent to the store by their wives and can’t remember what to get? Broke college students who are trying to put together a meal with no money? Feeling judged for your purchases, thinking the employees are watching you and know that you don’t know how to cook. Or something. Or maybe it’s for the retail workers. Feeling like your boss is constantly watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake. Yeah, that makes more sense. Probably some of all of the above.

The Admiral!!! I kind of love/hate that he’s just chilling, going hunting 24/7. Like I’m glad he’s happy. But it’s so sad that he doesn’t recognize Georgie. That must be really difficult. I wonder what specifically he’s hunting. Other cats? Mice? Birds? People who are afraid of cats?

“The Snoop God’s favorite kid”

“Now my therapist thinks I’m the chosen one.” All jokes aside (because it did make me laugh) that must be a super weird dynamic, for both of them. Like, hey, you know everything about me, and how completely flawed I am. You helped me get through some very dark periods, and now I’m apparently the savior of your world or something. And thinking your “prophet” is somebody who you saw in such a way, has to be wild. I’m interested to see if they’re going to delve more into this relationship, because it could be really interesting.

I also really, really, love that Martin and Melanie are able to have this time to just talk. They’ve both gone through so much. And yeah, they were never super close in the before-times. But they still understand each other, in a way I think not a lot of people could, who haven’t worked in the Archives. And they’re just hanging out, chatting about their love lives. It’s so wholesome and good.

“I’m the anti-christ’s plus one.” Oh my goodness Martin. This made me laugh so hard. I feel like that’s going to be A Thing in the fandom.

How weird must that be though, to have people look up to you like that? I can’t blame her at all for lying about the vision. She’s just trying to give them hope, and something bright to look forward to. But it’s also really hard. Because it is a lie, and does put her on a pedestal. It’s a really difficult situation, and there’s not really any good answers on how to handle that. But I can’t imagine the stress that must put on you. Feeling so responsible for these people, who have nothing, and who’s lives you literally saved. And who look up to you like you can solve all your problems, when you have no idea what you’re doing. It must be so hard.

That being said, the cringe I just experienced from “Blind Prophet”. Just. So much no.

I love hearing Melanie talk about Georgie though. She’s so in love and it’s so sweet.

Oh no. Daisy. And the pain is back. The whiplash I’m going through in this conversation. And Spiral Helen. I’m glad that Jonny put that in there though. Helen was just such a good, good, character.. In that her whole point was making you think she was on your side. And she did that to the point that a lot of people, including me, actually started to think maybe she was. This was a good reminder that no. She really was evil, she was just also really good at manipulation. It’s easy to forget sometimes, and to think maybe she didn’t deserve to die, and they could’ve saved her. But it wouldn’t have worked out, Jon knew what he was doing.

Cold baked beans. Delicious. I guess they can’t really make a fire in the tunnels. And obviously no electricity. Seems quite unpleasant though.

”Even if her problems were sometimes... odd.” I don’t remember, did we ever get context for how much she actually told her?

”But you’ve got to have hope in something. Otherwise there’s no point to anything. So, I choose to have hope in them. [...] Times like these, it just helps to believe. I’m not sure it really matters what.”

Anil!! I love him so much. I do wish we got some Arun/Martin bonding time though. I need them to talk about their favorite poets and discuss interpretations of various poems or something. I don’t know, I’m not really a big poetry person, but they both are, and I think they would get along pretty well, if Martin isn’t too put off by the religious part.

He also did sort of bring up a point I had been thinking about. And definitely not thinking this is in any way foreshadowing of anything, or that this is at all something that will come up. It’s just my own personal thoughts. “Maybe your powers feed on hope. On faith, and trust, and hope.” I feel like everything in the universe has an opposite, to a certain extent. And I feel like it makes sense that the fears would have an opposite as well. That there would be some sort of powers of hope or something. Not even necessarily in a good vs evil sort of way, because I feel like that’s an over simplification, and not at all really realistic.Nothing in real life is that black and white. But the fears came to exist because they were something people believed in. Not in like a faith way. But just in a way that it’s something that people thought and focused on enough to give it power. And I feel like that would work for hopes and dreams too. It only makes sense to me that if fearing something so much gives it power to turn into an actual, god-like, entity. Well, people dream about things just as much as they fear other things. I don’t know. I feel like someone smarter and better with words than I am could explain my thought process better. Just an idea that I had, that, as I said, I do not believe will at all come up, or exists at all in this universe. It’s not even really a headcanon. Just thoughts.

Final Thoughts:

This episode was so good? It was much more light-hearted than I was expecting, but in a really good way. I loved just hearing everybody reconnect, and have actual conversations with their friends. I forgot how much I missed these people, and how good everyone is. 10/10, absolutely loved. I’m exited to see what comes next, if a bit nervous. Obviously this was a good episode to ease back in, but the pain will be coming pretty soon. I am curious, there are apparently seven members of the cult, and we only met three, not including wtgfs, so five. I wonder if we’ll recognize the other two, or if they’re just not that important. Also wondering what the plan is for Jon, as he still doesn’t really know what to do. Is he just going to hang out for a bit? Have a chance to relax, like they did at Salesa’s? Wondering if they’re going to leave of their own volition, and decide it’s time to get a move on, or if something will happen to force them out. It’s clearly more dangerous for the cult now that Jon is there, and, ascaves much as Georgie cares about him, I don’t think she’ll let them stay if she thinks they’re an active danger. Anyways, I’m so, so excited that TMA is back, and I can’t wait to hear what comes next.

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #rusty quill spoilers #the magnus archives #tma #mag 190 #scavengers

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 7/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Frustrated by his physical condition and his lack of connection to the Eye, Jon asks Martin to visit Hill Top Road with him.

***

Chapter 7 of post-canon fix-it is up!

Read on AO3 at link above or here below.

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters here.

***

Over the next few days, Jon continued to struggle. He remained insistent on going into the Institute every day, but even with Martin’s encouragement he had trouble finishing entire meals.

“It’s all right,” Martin told him more than once. “I know you’re trying. Just keep trying.”

Jon would nod. If they were at work, he would catch Martin’s hand between his, just below the edge of his desk, and Martin would quietly tell him about his morning. At home, he would lie back on the couch with his head in Martin’s lap. Martin would come up with something to talk about, unrelated to the entities or the archives or anything that had happened to them. He started saving up topics that occurred to him just so he could have them on hand: a movie he remembered, a funny reddit post, a weird bug he found in the stacks. It wasn’t like Jon really cared; he watched Martin talk more than he listened, anyway. He seemed contented, and that was what mattered. Sometimes he was able to eat more afterward, if he didn’t fall asleep.

***

“Are there still more interviews to be done?” Jon asked Martin one morning, late that week, as they were walking to the office.

“I don’t know,” Martin answered. “I imagine there are. I don’t think Tim’s followed up with any since the ones we did. And I think Sasha’s been around the office the whole time.”

Jon nodded.

“Wait.” Martin reached out a hand to stop him; they faced each other on the pavement. “You're not considering doing them, are you?”

“I am.”

“Why?”

“Because I need to do something different.” Jon took Martin by the elbow and urged him to keep walking. Martin sighed, but did as he wanted.

“Is it—” Martin measured his tone very carefully and started over. “Is it because what you’re doing isn’t working?”

The Eye, you mean?” Jon looked up at Martin. “No, that’s not why.”

“But also, it isn’t working. Right? You would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Nothing’s changed,” Jon confirmed. “But that really isn’t it. I’ve… I’ve run out of information. I’m just going further and further back, through anything describing events and people involved in all of it, and it’s pointless. There was nothing here before we came. Nothing real.”

“Yeah?” Martin asked, recalling that he had done most of the talking between them that week. “I assume you’ve looked into—well, let’s start with Jonah Magnus. What was his deal?”

Jon shrugged. “Him, Robert Smirke, Mordechai Lukas—I’ve looked into all of them. They all existed, they were obsessed with the same ideas and concepts, perhaps because of the pull from our dimension… but there was nothing on the other side of those ideas. Not here.”

“I see.” Martin nodded. “And you think the interviews will give you more?”

“Maybe. It’s the only evidence we’ve had of real connections with individuals. You met Oliver Banks. Tim’s discussions with his police contacts—it was Callum Brodie, by the way. They won’t officially release his name, but it was easy enough to find on social media.”

“So that’s what you want to do, then—look for avatars?”

“Yes,” Jon answered. “They pose the greatest threat, and I think they require the most—advancement in their patrons.”

Martin considered. “You’ll let me go with you?”

“I won’t even pretend I could manage alone right now,” Jon said. “I could go with Tim, I suppose, but he wouldn’t go if you said no. That means it’s your decision.”

“Jon.” They were coming upon the Institute now, and Martin stopped him one more time. “Can I ask—if you just let go of all this—what would happen?”

“What do you mean? Happen how?”

“To you. What would happen to you? Would you get better? Would you get worse? I know you don’t know, but—what does it feel like?”

Jon considered. “You’re right, I don’t know. But… it also doesn’t matter. I can’t just let go. I need to do what I can to fix it, whatever that might be. Don’t ask me to let it go. Please.”

“All right.” Martin had already assumed the answer would be something like that. “Then we do the interviews.”

“Thank you,” Jon said quietly, as Martin put his arm around him before walking into the building.

***

Martin asked Sasha if they could do the interviews. She seemed surprised, but was agreeable enough, probably because Martin was the one doing the asking—it provided an implicit indication that Jon was feeling well enough to go, and Martin felt a bit like he had lied to her just by asking. Tim was a little more skeptical when Martin asked him for the contact forms. He ignored Martin and addressed Jon directly across the office.

“You know, Martin and I could still go.”

“No,” Jon said. “It’s too—it’s better if I’m there.”

“You sure?” Tim tried again. “Look, I don’t really know what the issue is, but if you’re worried about Martin, don’t be. Frankly, he’s doing much better than you are, and we’ve—”

“That’s not it. I just want to be there myself.”

Now Tim looked back at Martin and raised an eyebrow, and Martin shrugged.

“All right then,” Tim said, and reached for a drawer on his desk. “There’s a couple that will bring you down toward Crawley, if I remember, and a couple more that are spread out up north.”

“Can I look at them?” Jon said. “I’d like to see what they’re regarding.”

“Knock yourself out,” Tim said, handing them to Martin.

There were no names they recognized, and Jon didn’t think any of them looked particularly promising, but Martin was able to get ahold of two of them and set up appointments for that afternoon. The discussions were frustrating for everyone involved. For one thing, Jon hadn’t quite come to terms with the fact that things went very differently when people weren’t compelled to tell their stories, and Martin had to keep reminding him to be patient. For the same reason, it was hard to tell what was what; one of the stories might have been legitimately Corruption-related, but it could have also been a very bad case of health code violations combined with an active imagination.

“How did you know before if they were real or not?” Martin asked, as they were headed back on the train. “Like, in the beginning?”

Jon leaned back in the seat next to him with his eyes closed. “Well, when they were written down, there was the fact that I couldn’t record them except on the—on the tapes.”

“Right.” Martin frowned. “Obviously we’re not doing that again, but maybe we could try recording on our phones or something and seeing if it works?”

Jon gave a slight nod of his head. “Maybe. We don’t know if it will be the same, though. We don’t really know why that was. Maybe it was all Web, from the beginning.”

“True.” Martin turned it over some more. “Well, when you were talking to people directly how did you know?”

“I just did,” Jon sighed. “I didn’t think of it as anything more than a feeling until later.”

“And you couldn’t tell today?”

“No. Not even a hint.” Martin was relieved to hear it, although he opted not to share that with Jon.

They rode in silence for a while. Martin was surprised to see Jon had not fallen asleep when he checked on him.

“What are you thinking?” he asked.

Jon opened his eyes and turned to Martin, then to the back of the seat in front of him. Martin prompted him again.

“Jon? What are you thinking?”

“Come to Hill Top Road with me.”

“What?”

“Come to Hill Top Road with me,” Jon repeated.

“Why?”

“I need to know if I can feel anything there.”

“Why there?”

“When we came here—” Jon stopped and thought for a moment. “It’s hard to explain, but it’s where the separation—the barrier between us and them—would be the weakest.”

“Then it sounds like we shouldn’t go there.” Martin turned in his seat, and Jon finally looked at him. “It kind of seems we should actively avoid going there. Like, ever.”

Jon took Martin’s hand in his. “I just need to know. You—you could be right. About the Eye. Maybe it’s not coming back for me. Maybe it’s done with me.”

Martin breathed out slowly, a careful, measured exhalation. “And what if it is done with you?”

“Then…” Jon paused again. “Then I need to accept it.”

“And if it isn’t?”

A little bit of life came back into his voice. “Then it isn’t, and like I’ve been saying, it’s better to know and get on with it.”

Martin wasn’t sure he agreed, but he kept silent.

“Come to Hill Top Road with me,” Jon entreated him again. “Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Martin exclaimed loudly, and a woman two seats up across the aisle looked back at them. “Oh—sorry. Sorry.”

He waited until she had smiled and turned back to try again, more quietly. “Tomorrow? Really?”

“Yes. In the morning, first thing. Tell Sasha we have therapy.”

“If we go…” Martin sighed. “If we go and you don’t find what you’re looking for, will you—will you try to let it go? I don’t mean everything, we can talk to Tim and Sasha, we can do whatever you want, just—will you try to live without it?”

Jon considered, a troubled look in his eyes.

“I’m not asking for a promise, Jon—I don’t want one. I’m just asking what you’ll do.”

Jon took a deep breath. “I’d like to try. I think I would try.”

“All right.” Jon had won. Martin squeezed his hand, more to reassure himself than anything. “I’ll go with you. Tomorrow morning. I’ll tell them when we get back.”

“Thank you.”

Then next time Martin checked on him, Jon had fallen asleep.

***

Jon’s alarm went off the next morning right around sunrise, before Martin’s usual waking time. Martin was surprised by how much energy he seemed to have; he wanted it to be because he was feeling better, but he suspected Jon was running on fumes and willpower.

“Not going to shower first?” he asked, when Jon stepped out of bed and immediately went to the closet.

“No,” Jon answered. “I’d like to leave as soon as we can.”

“Well, you are going to have breakfast,” Martin grumbled, sitting up and trying to blink away the sleep.

“Martin—”

“That’s not debatable. I couldn’t get you to eat anything last night.” They had ended up taking a cab back from the train station, and Martin had worried for a moment that he was going to have to carry Jon up the stairs. “Use some of that energy to—go pour yourself some cereal or something.”

“Fine.” Jon started to leave the bedroom. “Do you want anything?”

“Nope.” Martin groaned as he started to stand up.

“Well, if I have to, then you should—”

“I ate dinner last night. And part of someone else’s dinner that I didn’t want to go to waste. And it is way too early right now, and—”

“Fine. I get it. I’m going.”

After Martin was dressed, he joined Jon to find him scraping at the bottom of a bowl of cereal.

“How full was that?” he asked, suspicious.

“Overflowing.” Jon regarded him from his seat on the couch.

“Really?”

“No. I don’t know, normal?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Martin sighed. “I’m still really worried, ok?”

Jon softened his gaze. “No, I’m sorry. I’m—I’m nervous. I just want to get this done.” He put one last spoonful into his mouth, and it made chewing and swallowing look extremely distasteful. “Are you ready?”

“As ready as I’m going to be,” Martin said. “Let’s go.”

The train ride out was long, and they had to switch to a bus line in Oxford. They barely spoke, but it wasn’t a particularly uncomfortable silence. Part of it was probably the early hour, although Jon seemed more awake and alert than Martin had seen him in days. He was probably anxious about what they would find; Martin was, at least, so it was easy to imagine Jon was feeling the same.

When they arrived, they stood together, side by side, staring at the front door. The house that occupied the property was the same as he had imagined it from when the other archive staff had visited it before the apocalypse. Apparently built as student housing, no one had ever actually moved in. The front porch was covered in cobwebs. Martin broke the silence they had maintained during the walk from the bus station.

“I don’t like this.”

“Me neither,” said Jon.

“Yes, but—I mean I don’t want to go in.”

“I understand. You can wait for me out here.”

“No, that—” Martin looked down at Jon, who continued to stare at the house. “I don’t want us to go in. Either of us.”

They let the silence take over again. It went on long enough that Martin wondered if they could just stay on the front lawn indefinitely, if he didn’t say anything; it seemed like it might be the most reasonable option. Unfortunately, Jon did eventually speak again.

“Martin, I really do understand if you—”

“No. If you’re going in, I’m—I’m going too.”

“I am sorry.” Jon started to step toward the house, but Martin caught him by the arm.

“Wait. Where is—where is Annabelle? Where has she been?”

“What?” Jon asked, turning to look at him.

“I know we haven’t talked about it, and maybe this is a bad time to bring it up—but she came here with us, didn’t she? To this dimension.”

“Presumably, yes.”

“Where would she go, if not—if not here? I mean, even without what you said about it—just look at it. It’s got to be crawling with spiders.”

Jon furrowed his brow before responding. “She could be here. It’s possible.”

Martin’s pulse quickened. “Well then—wouldn’t we want to not be here? Isn’t that a good reason to stay out?”

“I’m not concerned.” Jon shrugged, leaving Martin in disbelief.

“Can I ask why not?”

“It’s just a theory, but—” Jon walked a few paces and sat on the front step. “I think—I think the entities are getting stronger, regaining their power, in the order that the fears evolved and separated from one another. The dates I’ve pieced together from Sasha’s notes, the avatars—”

“What?” Martin was dumbfounded. “What do you mean?”

“Right. When I—after I killed Jonah, there was a, um…”

“A statement?”

“Yes.”

“Of course there was.” Martin shook his head and moved to take a seat next to Jon.

“I’m sorry I didn’t—”

“It’s all right.” It still hurt every time he remembered Jon had gone up to the tower without him, and Jon knew it. “Go on.”

“They were born in our dimension. They grew there, as one being at first. Then, as animals and humanity developed and changed, and their fears became more specific, more distinct, so did the entities themselves. The Hunt, the End, the Dark—they were first.”

“I see.” Martin thought. “And we’ve seen Oliver Banks and now Callum Brodie. What about—”

“I suspect we want to avoid anything having to do with Daisy, if we can.”

Martin’s eyes unintentionally drifted to the scar that still stood out vividly on Jon’s throat before he caught himself. “And where does the Eye fit in?”

“Soon. If I’m right.”

“Ok.” Martin now realized there had been a deeper layer to Jon’s recent desperation. “Why didn’t you tell me this before?”

“I honestly thought it wasn’t important. But now—you brought up Annabelle, and—”

“Right. So where does the Web fit into this theory?”

Jon considered. “If I’m right—if I’m right—we have time. If she is here, she’s likely much weaker than I am. She would have more to fear from us than the other way around.”

Martin sighed. “Any chance we can just burn the place?”

“Tempting.” Jon grinned just enough for Martin to see it. “In the long run, though—”

“Yeah, yeah—it would probably just make things worse.”

“Shall we?” Jon asked, starting to rise to his feet.

“If you have to.”

“I do.”

The front door gave way at a light touch; the knob and deadbolt were completely useless. It seemed like the sort of place that had been broken into so many times that the owners had simply stopped replacing them. The inside of the house was at least as covered with webs and dust as the front porch.

“Well,” Martin said, “I hate this.”

“I don’t love it.” Jon reflexively reached for Martin’s hand. “Come on.”

They walked further into the depths of the house, which was quite large. There were multiple small rooms, which made sense for student housing, and a larger sitting room; it looked like there was a kitchen in the very back. He was so busy looking up to make sure he didn’t accidentally walk into anything, that he jumped about a foot when Jon stomped his heel against the floor.

“Jon, why would you—”

“Spider,” Jon said.

“Oh. Carry on, then.”

“Remember when you used to get upset with me for—”

“Don’t.”

Jon squeezed his hand, and Martin had the odd feeling that he was somehow more comfortable now than he had been for a while. They looked around them from what appeared to be roughly the middle of the floorplan.

“Should we go upstairs, or—”

“Look,” Jon cut him off, and pointed to the floor. Beneath the dirt and footprints of previous trespassers, Martin could see an unmistakable pattern in the wood stain that ran across multiple boards, beyond the edge of the room they were currently in. It gave the appearance of a long, dark, jagged crack. He may not have noticed it if he hadn’t been looking for it, but he couldn’t see anything else now.

“Do you think that’s—where it is?” Martin asked.

“Your guess is as good as mine.” Jon started to pull Martin toward it, but Martin stayed where he was.

“Do you really have to stand right on it?”

“Just give me a moment.” Jon slipped his hand out of Martin’s before he had a chance to protest. Martin held his breath and gave him five seconds, then ten seconds.

“Anything?”

“Wait.”

Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. He was counting each of them.

“Jon—”

“Wait. Please.” Jon was growing tenser, more anxious.

A minute.

“Jon, I don’t—”

“I told you to wait.” Jon snapped at him this time.

The momentary sting was quickly replaced by concern; that just wasn’t like Jon. He bit his lip, unsure what to do. If he insisted on interrupting him, tried to convince him to leave, Jon might not feel like he really gave it enough of a chance—or worse, he might blame Martin for the failed attempt to find whatever power he was seeking. He’d be too kind to say anything, of course, but they would both know.

He decided to continue waiting, as long as he could make himself. He pressed his hand to his mouth as a reminder. The house was so quiet; it occurred to him he should have been able to hear sounds from outside, but something about the place seemed to be swallowing them up before they could reach them.

In the stunted silence, Martin had the sudden feeling they were not alone.

Before he could make up his mind to disrupt him again, Jon spoke.

“There’s nothing,” he said meekly.

“What?” Martin asked.

“There’s nothing,” Jon said again. “I don’t feel anything. I really thought—” He cut himself off, his expression a mix of loss and confusion and sadness, and Martin was filled with a deep, distressing pity for him.

“Hey,” he said, crossing to Jon, forgetting his trepidation toward the mark on the floor. It seemed meaningless now, nothing more than an ugly accident at the lumber factory. He pulled Jon into his arms. “It’s going to be all right. We’ll figure it out.”

Jon didn’t answer, but he allowed Martin to hold him, eventually letting the weight of his head fall against Martin’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Martin said quietly.

“Are you?”

“Yes,” Martin answered. “Part of me is relieved, I’ll admit, but I don’t want you to be miserable, Jon. Honestly, I don’t. We’ll do whatever we need to do to help make this better, ok?”

Jon fell silent again, and in that silence Martin remembered the feeling he’d had just before Jon had spoken.

“Jon—can we get out of here? Sit outside? We can talk there. On the porch, even. I just have this feeling like—like we’re being watched.”

“What?” Jon pulled away enough to look up at his face.

“Not like—watched, I don’t think that even feels like anything. I just mean—like, regular being watched. If that’s a thing.”

Jon concentrated for a moment, but quickly gave up. “All right. We can go.”

Martin felt a second wave of relief wash over him. It’s over, he thought to himself, at least for the time being. He released Jon from his grasp, turning him gently toward the door—the faster they could get outside, back to the fresh air, the better for both of them.

A few steps, though, and Jon stumbled. Martin, instinctively reaching to support him, assumed at first that he had stepped wrong or tripped over something—but that wasn’t right. Jon was heavy in his arms, and Martin nearly fell himself trying to stop Jon from hitting the ground.

Ok. Martin collected his thoughts as quickly as possible as he gently set Jon down. He’s fainted. That wasn’t great, but it wasn’t entirely unexpected, given how he had been feeling and his inability to eat. I just need to give him a minute and he’ll come around.

That wasn’t right either, though, Martin quickly realized, because Jon had stopped breathing.

Shit, shit, shit. He had taken a CPR class many years ago, but he hadn’t thought about it in almost as long. What were the steps? He knew Jon wasn’t choking, and he remembered something about checking for a pulse, although he didn’t remember if you were supposed to do that right away or—

Do something.

He reached for Jon’s neck, pressing two fingers against his carotid artery. He waited.

I’m doing it wrong.

He readjusted. Still nothing.

“Shit.” Panic started to well up inside him again. Breaths? Chest compressions?

Call for help.

He pulled out his phone and started to dial, but quickly realized he had no reception. He held it up, moving it around, even standing again to see if he could get a signal, but no matter where he moved he couldn’t get a single bar of service. He thought about going outside to try there, but couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Jon alone in this place.

Chest compressions.

He knelt next to Jon, placing one hand on top of the other the way he thought he remembered. He pressed the heel of his palm against Jon’s sternum, just inches away from the scar he had put there only months ago.

Don’t.

The scar where he had driven a knife through muscle and maybe bone—he didn’t think it was supposed to be so easy to do that, but the cracking sound—

Don’t, not now.

—the cracking sound and then suddenly it had been so much easier, the knife went in and there was that single gasp of pain, and then he’d pulled the knife out because he couldn’t stand to leave it in, but all the blood came with it—

I killed him.

Jon was dying. The tape unspooled; the tower crumbled around them, and Martin held on. Jon lay dead in his arms as the world disappeared around them, and he held on. He held on for so long.

God, it hurts.

“Martin—”

I’m so sorry.

“Martin, let go.”

Martin opened his eyes and tried to remember where he was. His pulse was racing.

“Martin.”

He was sitting on the floor with Jon—Jon needed him to let go. He did, and Jon immediately took a deep breath. Martin still couldn’t quite remember where they were.

“You were dead.”

“No,” Jon answered, still breathing hard. “No, I just blacked out. I think I’m ok.”

“No. I killed you. There was—there was the knife—where did it—”

Jon, understanding, reached for Martin’s face. “Look at me. We’re at Hill Top Road. We came here together.”

“What?” Martin tried to remember, and eventually the details of their current situation came back to him. He looked around at the house. Jon was so pale. “Oh god. Jon, are you all right?”

“I think so. I think I just blacked out.”

“You weren’t breathing. I swear you weren’t breathing, and I couldn’t find a pulse—”

“Are you sure? Or were you…”

“I—I think so?” Although now that he thought about it, Martin realized he couldn’t be completely sure. “Maybe?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m—I’m ok now. I’m breathing.”

Martin looked around again. He hated this place. “Let’s leave. Please. Right now.”

“Yes. Yes, of course.”

It was harder to help Jon to his feet than either of them expected. His energy from earlier in the day had vanished almost entirely, and he leaned hard against Martin as they walked toward the door. The porch, which had previously seemed as dreadful as the house, now felt like a sanctuary as the sun streamed onto it through the support columns. It was almost unbelievable that nothing stopped them from reaching it, and Martin collapsed onto the wooden deck as soon as they did.

He made sure Jon had a relatively comfortable spot to lie, and then dragged himself to the steps, pulling his knees into his chest and blocking the light from his eyes with one arm. He stayed like that until he’d relaxed enough to reach into his pocket for his phone again. He had a little reception out here, at least. He scrolled through his contacts until he’d pulled up Sasha’s number.

“Hi Martin,” she answered cheerily. “Everything going all right?”

“Sasha, hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Listen, I’m sorry to do this—”

“Martin, I can barely hear you. Is everything all right?”

“Yeah—it is. Mostly.” He was too miserable to think up an actual lie. “Jon’s not feeling well today. I think—I think we’ll need the whole day off.”

“Did you say—is Jon ok?”

“He’s—” He looked at Jon where he lay in a patch of sunlight, eyes closed, taking shallow breaths. “He’s—I don’t know. He’s not great.”

“I’m—I’m sorry to hear that. Do you need anything?”

“No. We’ll manage.” He wasn’t sure that was true, but he had no idea what kind of help he could even ask for.

“You’re breaking up, but—please keep me updated? I’ll check in later.”

“All right.”

Martin ended the call.

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