#Sort of TMA coded I guess

[ennard-is-near]

Picturing Ennard (as Michael) trying to mimc his voice to his neighbors so as to not arouse suspicion, but he didn’t say a single word the entire time he was down there, (didn’t even scream when they killed him,) so they don’t know what he sounds like. All they have to go off is Circus Baby’s description of his voice.

So if you talked to him his voice would just be a little bit wrong. Not in a way you could ever put your finger on, he had the same accent, same pitch, mostly the same inflection, but it’s just off. Just like the rest of him.

[wildgeese98]

Ok everyone buckle up, I've gone full brain rot and assigned TMA Fears to each Locked Tomb house. This was tricky and I'm not 100% on all of these but this is the best it's gonna be.

First - Exstinction

This one's kinda a no-brainer, you could honestly argue all the houses are extinction coded since they are what replaced humanity after it was destroyed.

Second - Hunt, Desolation

John uses the Cohort to hunt down and destroy the descendants of people he has a 10,000 year vendetta against. They also literally kill planets, wipe out populations, and cause widespread suffering and despair.

Third - Flesh, Corruption

Flesh for obvious reasons. The third seems to do bonkers, toxic relationships harder than anyone else and that's saying something in this universe. The Tridentari twins scream Corruption to me.

Fourth - Slaughter

The Fourth are the infantry, the cannon fodder. Marching eternally into battle in an endless war.

Fith - Web

There's a specific scene that made me associate the Fifth with the Web. It's the scene in HtN when Abigail and Magnus very subtlely and politely corner Harrow into reading one of the notes. It's in chapter 28 and it struck me as very web like.

Sixth - Eye

Amassing and cataloging Information, a tendency to pursue knowledge to a fault. Honestly, they're the nerd house and the nerds kind of have to be Eye.

Seventh - End, Stranger

Veneration and worship of death. Technically all necromancers are pretty End coded but the Seventh takes it to a new level. Also that beguiling corpse business is some Stranger shit for sure.

Eighth - Spiral, Vast

Spiral was really hard to place. It ended up here for the absolute mind fuck it must be to have your soul tossed out of your body while being siphoned. Vast is also kinda shoehorned in here because I couldn't fit it anywhere else. I guess you could say complete devotion to a religious moral code is sort of affirming your personal insignificance in relation to something much larger than you. But I'm aware that's a stretch. Honestly idk if the Eighth really fits well with any of the Fears.

Ninth - Lonely, Dark, Buried

They are both physically isolated and ostracized from the rest of the houses by their reputation as a creepy cult. It is notably literally very dark on the Ninth but it is also a house dedicated to hiding the truth. Alecto is evidence of a terrible truth that John locked away in the deepest darkest hole possible. It's also all about that tomb, they exist to protect a grave. There's a lot more I could say about Harrow specifically being buried under guilt and expectation because of her conception but that would go on for a while.

I'd love to know people's thoughts on this! It was a fun exercise trying to match everything up.

[skyeoak]

TMAGP Episode 34 Thoughts

Gloves are off for worldbuilding spoilers. Let’s fucking go!

I was wondering how this interrogation would go. But I forgot that Sam is the most bafflingly trusting character in this series. If I was in this position I would not have thrown out “oh, it’s an alternate dimension,” at all. But also props to Georgie for making a snap judgement to trust Sam. Not surprising if she’s been running the horror response agency for four years.

I do feel like the characters should dig a little further into the quesiton of “why you,” PARTICULARLY because of how many weird parallels Sam has with both John and Martin. (plus I just want him to flip out a little when he hears what John and Martin sounded like. teehee.)

He was in a weird dream? What? I guess that’s the interdimensional hub that the previous doppelgänger statement was about?

Oh. Oh the archivist already outside the zone. Oh we’re cooked. And the more I think about this episode, the more I wonder what this archivist’s plan is. Because I think it would be cool if it was some sort of heroic-but-at-what-cost type thing. Idk. Multiversal apocalypse is cool too. Go off, archiqueen/genderneutral.

The statement:

Hey so this woman’s fearpocalypse domain sounds awful. The fear that you’ve hurt before and will hurt again makes me go HMMM AGHHHHH OUCH WHOAAA. Somehow it’s E. M. Carroll coded (a positive). I especially loved the time dilation/losing track of time aspect. It kinda combined an adrenaline rush and non-24 syndrome in a way that really supported the themes of never knowing when you’ll kill. Just knowing you have the capacity. And that others do as well. And uh, something something, hurt people hurt people. Or at the very least, some grow paranoid that they will.

I think this statement leans more slaughter just for the focus on death, but also it’s canon that the fears kinda broke down and melded and diversified during the whole eyepocalypse ritual, so I don’t know if it’s important to know the specific type. (This is partially just me covering for my headcanon that Smurke’s fear types were only so present and cleanly separated in TMA because the Eye knew Elias’s plan and was helping him with it to an extent. Which is just a headcanon. But I like it.)

Aaaand her death was the sort of visceral schlorpy mess that makes magpod so good. 10/10.

Hoping that we start to jump between the Alice-Gwen-mension and the Sam-mension in episodes, because OH NO, I need to get updates on both sides every week for my personal wellbeing (/hj).

[rowanraven08]

So I just need to fucking rant about my boys being stuck in the ‘puters. CAUSE MAN DO I HAVE THOUGHTS. Have probably said some of this before, but not all.

So I’m thoroughly convinced that they’ve been properly coded in, Sergey Ushanka style, and also based off that statement, there’s no doubt in my mind that it hurts for them. I know this is a different universe, but unless computer folks are a common thing here, why would the plot give them anything less than more trauma? But I’m actually kinda concerned about how they’ll be once/if they get out?? Like aside from the trauma of it even, Tessa Winters said you can’t code people in the way people really are, and I’m kinda worried that through the whole thing that they might be different, or have lost a little bit of themself, the way that if you put something through google translate to many times it comes out all messed up, mostly with the same meaning, but words have still changed.

Other than that even, how the hell is Jon gonna cope/currently coping with not being omniscient?? I imagine going from knowing almost everything to having to seek out the information yourself again would be a huge hurdle. Even if now he has the equivalent of what Elias could do, seeing out of any eye, but instead just seeing out of any camera, that would be so disorienting. Never mind the fact they’re in an alternate universe.

The whole thing just makes me so sad, they can’t communicate clearly, are clearly trying tooth and nail to help and to get the OIAR gang to understand, stuck in this nonexistence that is probably excruciating, and no one except probably Colin and Celia even knows they exist. (I’m operating under the assumption Celia knows what’s up, she’s a smart girl she knows this isn’t a coincidence) But Colin clearly fucking hates them, Sam is only just starting to realize the computers are listening, and Celia doesn’t actually seem to be trying to help them, the only thing we know about her research is that she was looking into alternate universes and time travel sort of stuff, and that now she’s looking into alchemy. My boys are SCREAMING to be heard and no one will listen.

Like what will they even do? Worst case scenario, they’re stuck like that forever. Best case scenario, they get out, and somehow manage to get home (unlikely in my opinion) only to be met with a world still rebuilding, where everyone hates them. Last scene in TMA? Literally Melanie, Georgie, and Basira talking about how it’s better off they can’t find Jon, and they’re right,

“I mean, I just don’t think people would exactly be understanding. You remember what happened when they found Simon Fairchild?”

“And he’s not just some powerless left-behind avatar, you know? We’re talking about ‘The Archivist’.”

People would absolutely kill Jon if he came back, and they knew who he was, and I think being able to fly under the radar isn’t an option seeing as he literally haunted people’s dreams for a while. Who’s to say he could even stay alive in a world without the fears? Death might finally catch up to him, the exhaustion, everything. I don’t think going back is an option for them.

Maybe for Celia, if it’s even possible. But I think at this point she’d be happier in Protocol universe than Archives. She couldn’t even remember her original name in late s5, and didn’t remember Martin, she seemed to have lost at least a good portion of her memory if not all. If that didn’t come back after the apocalypse, she has more actual connection to Protocol, the cult being her only real connection to Archives. Maybe she’s trying to get back just because of principle, she’s not considering if that’s really what she wants because it’s the clear next step. But I don’t think she’d be able to leave Jack behind. I don’t even think she really is his proper mother, I’m guessing she somehow took other Celia’s (Lynne’s) identity, and just took over caring for Jack. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t love him.

I really do hope Jon and Martin get out of the computer, it’ll be so hard for them to deal with everything, but maybe if they stayed in Protocol they could still build a life together.

Some other random stuff:

So I went through, and found (I think) all the times we hear the jmj. error.

Ep 3 we get an error, which actually starts working when Colin threatens it, and it starts up with a statement from our buddy Norris, and I actually find it kinda amusing to imagine Martin being scared into reading the statement by the frustrated IT guy.

We also get an error in ep 5, after Gwen asks about the German IT guy before Colin. Which a.) why is she asking about him, b.) if I’m right about the errors being an attempt at communication, why do they think the guy’s important? C.) I had thought before that the German bit of code could be Jonah or something since he may have known German? But pretty sure that was too speculative, it makes more sense for it to have just been the German IT guy. D.) he’s mentioned as having a bunch of tattoos, which so far has not meant good things.

Ep 17 which I talked about in a different post, where the error lasted long enough for Gwen and Alice to nearly talk about stuff, only starting up again once they end that bit of the conversation without actually talking about it

And then ofc in 19 when Alice won’t listen to Sam about the computers listening.

I don’t think I missed any, but I might have? So if anyone notices one I missed lemme know please

Also only just realized a few days ago that jmj. isn’t an ACTUAL error, I know Colin says ep 3 it doesn’t mean anything, but I had actually taken that as Colin just being frustrated, and hadn’t read into. Jmj doesn’t even fucking exist, my guess is that it stands for Jon Martin Jonah?

Also what’s everyone’s thoughts on Teddy? Because that man is getting kinda suspicious. Why does he keep showing up? He works into this somehow. Also why doesn’t he actually want to talk to Alice? She’s high energy and not very serious, but it sounds like the guy properly ghosted her, keeps lying about how they’ll hang out more, or how he’ll text her back, could just be him being a bit of a dick, or maybe she did something to kinda deserve it, but it’s could be he’s trying to keep her at a distance to keep her safe? Especially if he is already wrapped up in this crap.

[that-one-zombie-crow]

List of things TMA missed out on statementwise:

Sorted by fear.

Corruption:

-Bot Flies. They lay eggs on parasitic things like mosquitos and when they land on a host, the eggs with fall of and the larvae will burrow into the host’s flesh and feed on their bodily liquids.

-Bees. Have a statement of a beekeeper who is slowly letting the bees make a hive of them. Why not?

Vast:

-Theme park rides. Ones with drops were it feels like you fall forever, loops were the only thing under you is open sky.

Eye:

-Statement of a person about their roommate and how they seem to be keeping track of their behavior. Little things at first, like how they like their pasta cooked, but then it gets bigger, like knowing their work schedule and sleeping habits. This roommate just always watches. Might also go with the Stranger, depending on how it’s handled.

Stranger:

-We saw dolls and other humanoids, but not robots. Statement of an engineer who is trying to make a working robot, but it actually comes to life without power or creepy crap like that. When the person tries to look at its coding, it’s literally nothing.

Spiral:

Statement of a museum security guard regarding how the paintings seem to move in the corner of their eye, how the hallways seem to go on longer than they should, how the statues’ eyes seem to follow them. Night At The Museum but creepy.

Lonely:

Statement of a person on the search for a new roommate after their old one died. Every time they thing they find someone, something happens to them. Finally, they think it’s their fault and go into self-isolation. They think they see the fog in the street turn into their old friends, but they can’t go see in case they hurt them.

End:

Statement of a mortician. Idk, just seems like it would work.

Slaughter:

Statement of an American who moved to London. Regarding the last Black Friday shopping trip they took. It might have been the reason they left the U.S. On the trip, everyone was ready to kill for what they wanted, and everyone in the store did, until there was one person left. That’s the American Black Friday experience for ya.

Hunt:

A group of friends is on a camping trip when they hear wolves at night. Now, in America this is fine, but in Britain, wolves haven’t been part of the environment for many many moons. They can’t leave because it started storming the next day, and two of them are “sick.” Well, as you guessed, werewolves! One dealt with the urge to kill by leaving camp, but the other attack someone, leading to the others running with the friend that attacked them chasing them, along with the wolves. Basically Werewolf Games from The Hermit Archives or From The Archives.

That’s it for now, but feel free to let me know anything I missed.

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 41: Come back to me in dreams, that I may give

[CLICK]

[ENGINE RUMBLING, TIRES ON ROADWAY]

GERRY

Where did she even get the name Jan Kelly from, anyway?

TIM

Jan after Jan Kilbride, the guy from the Daedalus project who got…messed up by the Vast. Kelly was her mother’s maiden name.

GERRY

…Did she tell you that, or did the Eye?

TIM

Since I didn’t even know about this place until you told me, definitely the latter. Mind the pedestrian.

GERRY

No, I thought I’d just run him over. Picking bits of meat out of the undercarriage is so much fun.

[TIM SNORTS]

[SEVERAL MOMENTS OF SILENCE]

GERRY

She wouldn’t send us there if it was dangerous. Or at least she would have given us some kind of clue as to how to…dismantle her traps or whatever.

TIM

I just hope the bill’s still current. She told me once she always paid her bills as far in advance as she could, just in case she was delayed somewhere, but it’s been almost two years.

GERRY

Surely she wouldn’t have put something so important in a situation so precarious.

TIM

I guess we’ll find out.

It’s down there.

[TIRES CRUNCHING OVER ASPHALT]

[SLIGHT CREAK AS CAR STOPS]

[ENGINE SHUTS OFF]

GERRY

Come on. I remember which unit is hers, so it shouldn’t take us too long to find.

TIM

Sure.

[SEATBELTS UNBUCKLING]

[CAR DOORS OPEN, FOOTSTEPS ON ASPHALT, CAR DOORS SHUT]

[FOOTSTEPS ON PAVEMENT, SLOW TO A STOP]

[FRUSTRATED GROAN]

GERRY

Great. Of course there’s a keypad for entry. God alone knows what combination of numbers she would have used.

TIM

260147.

[BRIEF PAUSE]

[DISTINCT SOUNDS OF THOSE SIX NUMBERS BEING PUNCHED INTO A KEYPAD]

[CHEERFUL DOUBLE BEEP]

[CLUNK OF A LOCK DISENGAGING]

GERRY

…Okay, God and you know.

Did she pick it herself for a reason, or was it random?

TIM

She picked it herself. For the same reason I would have used 140385, and can we please not ask those kinds of questions for a bit? That kind of Knowing isn’t my usual area of expertise, but I’m getting the information anyway and it’s starting to give me a headache.

GERRY

Sorry.

[DOOR OPENS]

GERRY

Come on. It’s this way.

[FOOTSTEPS ECHOING SLIGHTLY ON A CONCRETE FLOOR, BUT OTHERWISE ABOUT THIRTY SECONDS OF SILENCE]

TIM

Any guesses as to what it is she left us?

GERRY

No. You?

…Not asking the nosy bastard, just asking you.

[TIM LAUGHS A LITTLE]

TIM

Not a clue, which is a refreshing change.

Probably something we’d never expect in a million years.

GERRY

Hmm.

Do we think you don’t have a clue because she somehow hid it from the Ceaseless Watcher, or just because it’s letting you build anticipation?

TIM

…

The second one. It’s probably trying to get me curious.

Or maybe it’s just because that’s not the sort of thing I usually can just…do. Most of the information I pull out of nowhere legit is stuff I already knew but had no reason to use, and…I dunno, there’s probably a common theme for the stuff it usually gives me, but I can’t come up with it right now.

Anyway, unless she’s keeping her sister’s skull in there or something, I don’t think I’d just get that information.

[SQUEAK OF SOLES AGAINST THE FLOOR AS GERRY WHIRLS AROUND]

GERRY

Her what?

TIM

I told you, if I’d picked a code I’d have used 140385. That was Danny’s birthday. Gertrude lost her younger sister to one of the Fourteen. It’s why she went to work at the Institute in the first place, and why she offered me the job. We’re cut from the same cloth.

GERRY

Jesus fucking Christ on a pogo stick.

[RUSTLE OF FABRIC AS HE PULLS TIM INTO A FIERCE HUG]

[SEVERAL MOMENTS OF SILENCE]

[TIM PULLS BACK]

TIM

…Thanks for that, Ger.

GERRY

Any time.

Come on. We should almost be there.

[MORE FOOTSTEPS, EVENTUALLY SLOWING TO A HALT]

TIM

This one?

GERRY

Yep.

No cameras, so that’s good. Although I suppose if someone’s trying to spy on us, they wouldn’t need cameras.

TIM

We’re good. No one’s watching.

[JINGLE OF KEYS]

GERRY

…Sure of that, are you?

TIM

Yep.

[LOUD JANGLING CLUNK AS TIM SELECTS A KEY AND LETS THE OTHERS DROP]

GERRY

Wait, no, hang on. How can you be so sure?

TIM

[Audibly grinning] Finally figured it out earlier today. You know how I have that problem where it’ll randomly just feel like my finger’s swelling up and the ring gets uncomfortably tight?

GERRY

Yeah?

TIM

It’s not random.

I was talking with Martin earlier and he was ranting about a bunch of stuff he’s probably had bottled up for a while, and one of the things he was complaining about was feeling like he was being watched. Mostly as a joke, I put the picture on Sasha’s desk face down, and as soon as I did, the ring suddenly got so loose it actually popped right off. While I was waiting for you, I thought about it, and I realized that all the times it got tight was when we were doing something that someone might have wanted to know, or when Gertrude or Elias—or Jon, unintentionally anyway—was trying to directly Know what I was thinking. It gets tight whenever someone is trying to magically spy on me. Right now it feels fine, so we’re safe.

Let’s see what’s in here.

[RATTLE OF KEY BEING INSERTED INTO LOCK]

[FAINT CLICK OF LOCK]

[MUFFLED JINGLE OF KEYS AND LOCK BEING DROPPED INTO A POCKET]

[RATTLE, CREAK, AND GROAN OF A METAL STORAGE DOOR BEING FORCED UPWARDS]

GERRY

Holy war zone.

TIM

Frith and Inlé. I didn’t expect this much stuff.

GERRY

You know Gertrude. If something’s worth doing, it’s worth…digging through two dozen decaying unmarked cardboard boxes.

Still. She couldn’t have at least left us a map?

TIM

…I think maybe she did.

GERRY

…Oh.

TIM

Probably should worry me that it’s only got my name on it, but…

[TWO FOOTSTEPS]

There’s a recorder here. That’s what was keeping the tape upright. Want to listen to it here or take it home first?

GERRY

…

I don’t think I’ll last the two hours it’ll take to get home. Besides, we want to find…whatever it is she left to stop the Unknowing, right? Maybe she spelled it out on the recording. Let’s listen now.

[RATTLE OF THE DOOR CLOSING]

TIM

Our choices seem to be sitting on the floor or…standing.

GERRY

Yeah, no, I’m lazy. Sit.

[FABRIC RUSTLES, SLIGHT SOUND OF CARDBOARD BOXES SHIFTING MARGINALLY AS THEY SETTLE ON THE FLOOR AND GET COMFORTABLE]

[TAPE CLICK]

[A QUIET SPACE]

GERTRUDE

Tim. And Gerard, I suppose, you two don’t tend to keep secrets from one another. Which serves you well.

The time is seventeen minutes past two in the afternoon, fourteenth of March, 2015. As I record this, you are on your way to Çukurova, Turkey, by way of Istanbul. I have just finished speaking with you about returning to London due to the imminence of the Dark’s ritual, the Extinguished Sun.

If you are listening to this recording, it means I’m dead.

[TIM INHALES SHARPLY]

More specifically, it means that I am dead and that my…current theory was incorrect. There is no real point in repeating it now, I suppose. I’ve taken precautions not to be overheard, but there is still the risk. If I am correct, I will tell you about it when you return to London, as it will greatly inform our path going forward, but if I am wrong, there’s no reason for you to worry about it, and telling you will only send you down the wrong and, may I say, dangerous path.

So. To business. You are hearing this because I was able to disrupt the Dark’s ritual, but it likely cost me my life. This means that Elias will be appointing a new Archivist.

The position will not lie fallow for long. It cannot. The Archives need an Archivist, and so does the Ceaseless Watcher. I assume—or rather, I hope—it will be Sasha James, from Research; her background in Artifact Storage will give her a better chance of understanding. However, it may not be, and Elias may have made a different choice for some reason. Should Elias offer you the position, Tim—do not accept it. It will place you both in grave danger. Even graver than the danger you are already in.

(Momentary pause) On the topic of Elias. I know I don’t need to tell you not to trust him; you are already wise enough not to. And you’ve been good about avoiding him up to this point. That will be…far less simple in my absence, at least for you, Tim, so please listen very carefully to what I am about to tell you, and please, believe what I am saying.

The person you know as Elias Bouchard was originally known as Jonah Magnus—

[RECORDER CLATTERS TO THE FLOOR]

TIM

What?!

GERRY

No, no, I must have—we had to have misheard that, play that again, that can’t—

[TAPE REWINDS]

[TAPE CLICK]

GERTRUDE

—and please, believe what I am saying.

The person you know as Elias Bouchard was originally known as Jonah Magnus, the founder of this Institute. I have also known him as James Wright, and before that as Richard Mendelsson. He has found a way to extend his life by…placing it in other bodies, and taking on their identities. A slightly less obvious method than that employed by Maxwell Rayner, I suppose, but no less insidious.

[TAPE CLICK]

[SEVERAL SECONDS OF SILENCE]

TIM

Fuck me sideways and call me a snake.

GERRY

(With a pathetic attempt at humor) I know it’s serious when you aren’t swearing in Lapine.

TIM

I just…I…fuck.

Elias Bouchard has been Jonah Magnus this whole time? No wonder…

GERRY

No wonder what?

TIM

No wonder I can’t figure him out. He’s had—what, two hundred years of being…

GERRY

An asshole?

TIM

The Grand Mystic Pooh-Bah of assholes. And also a servitor of the Ceaseless Watcher.

He’s…he’s old, Gerry. Not just old, but ancient. And I don’t mean that in the sense of “he’s past his prime”, I mean that in—

GERRY

I know. You mean “ancient” like “ancient power.” Like the kind that gets written about on temple walls and whispered about behind closed doors.

TIM

Yeah.

And I think I’m strong enough to keep that out of my head?

GERRY

You are. He believed you when you said you didn’t have the keys to the Archivist’s office, right?

TIM

I mean, I assume so, but—

GERRY

No. No, you’re right, he has to believe it. You said he was disappointed, yeah? Probably because he made plans assuming you did, that you’d lie and say you didn’t but keep them and could…do exactly what you just did and break into Jon’s office when he wasn’t aware. Make him more paranoid. But you convinced him you didn’t and that threw off his plans.

TIM

…Which is why he suddenly remembered he had the key to the trap door and gave it to me to give to Jon. Either in hopes I would “forget” to give it to him, or that I’d make a copy before I did.

GERRY

God. He’s such a bastard.

What’s he up to, anyway?

TIM

Maybe we should keep listening and find out.

GERRY

…Yeah. Yeah, go ahead.

[FABRIC RUSTLES AS HE PULLS TIM CLOSER]

[TAPE CLICK]

GERTRUDE

You’ve worked out, I’m sure, that he has certain…abilities of clairvoyance. On the off chance you haven’t worked out exactly what those abilities are, he has the ability to perceive out of any eye, real or symbolic, which is why I never keep photographs in the Archives. I’m not certain if Gerard’s tattoos are the exception or if he’s not aware of them or if it’s simply that the two of you have the skills to ward him away without knowing that you are doing so, but whatever the case, he doesn’t seem to be…entirely aware of your presence, Gerard.

Use that to your advantage.

I know that you are both well capable of protecting yourselves, both mentally and physically. Your bond to one another is a source of strength. Your knowledge is another. Keeping the Archives in a state of chaos is a third, and I trust you enough to help maintain that; I believe Elias’s plan would benefit from their organization. But I also know that you are both quite skilled in the mental shields I have instructed you in, and that you have developed on your own. Keep using them. It is not only the Ceaseless Watcher that may seek to slip past your defenses, so be on your guard.

It is also up to you to protect the new Archivist, whomever she—or he, I suppose—may be.

The Unknowing is approaching fast. You know this. I am still not certain of the timeline for it, but if you are listening to this tape it is still coming. Perhaps you have been able to ascertain that information by now, perhaps not, but either way, the new Archivist will not be prepared for what is to come. Even if it is Sasha, she may be prepared to accept the paranormal and the dangerous aspects thereof, but she doesn’t know the details like you do. The Archivist will need that information to succeed.

That being said.

I assume that if there is a new Archivist, there are also new assistants. Sasha may not appoint others, as I have mentioned to her that I don’t need any more help than you, Tim, but she may, and a different Archivist will also likely want a full staff. Which means you are likely dealing with a minimum of two new assistants—Martin Blackwood will, presumably, be one, but I cannot even begin to hazard a guess as to the second, and I don’t intend to try. It doesn’t matter. Be extremely cautious of them, and of how much information to divulge to them. I trust your judgment, but please be sure to weigh in your decision where they came from and why they are in the Archives. And if the new Archivist asks you to keep them ignorant, you will need to defer to their decision. At least to begin with.

(Deep breath) I will be recording a tape for the Archivist to come after me sometime before…before you return, or before the Extinguished Sun is due to…occur. I plan to give them enough information to get started with, but not the full details. I will also instruct them to play that tape for you, Tim, making no mention of this one. Be warned that if they do not—or have not done so, should you for some reason be listening to this after the new Archivist has taken the position—they may not have the best interests of the world at heart. They may also simply be skeptical, or perhaps simply willfully ignorant, pretending to ignore the truth as a defense mechanism or a pathetic attempt at safety. Whatever the case may be, if the current Archivist has not or does not take you into their confidence…trust no one but each other.

…

I don’t enjoy this level of paranoia. I certainly don’t enjoy that I am handing it on to you. But if it keeps the two of you safe, and if you can save the world in the bargain, I’ll accept it.

I am…fond of you both. I can admit that here and now. I’m fairly certain that this room is warded enough that anyone who may use that against me won’t be able to hear, and if they do, hopefully there won’t be time for them to use it against me. I…I hope you’re able to listen to this, and I’ve not put you in danger just by admitting that. (Heh) I suppose I must be getting sentimental in my old age. I’ll have to tell you about a few. If for some reason you’re listening to this even though I am still alive, likely because I’ve forgotten to actually destroy it, remind me to tell you about Emma. And Michael. I suppose I should tell you about Michael.

I hope you’ll both forgive me when I do.

(Sharp inhale) Right. I believe I’ve rambled long enough. You have work to do.

Hold onto the key to the storage unit until you are certain you can trust the new Archivist. Either wait for them to get up to speed on everything that they need to know or, if the Unknowing is too close to allow them that kind of time, bring them here. Hopefully they will not get quite so…obsessed that they gain powers too quickly, which means your abilities will be the more prominent, but nevertheless, between you and the Archivist you ought to be able to locate my contingency plan. Unless you and Gerard have found a better option. I rather hope you have, as this one may be…drastic, but regardless, this ought to be a good place to discuss. Everything here is safe. At least from Elias.

I don’t have much to leave behind, but what I do have is yours, Tim. Use it well and in good health.

One final request, and I hope you have returned in enough time to fulfill it for me. I registered a plan some time ago that when I die, I wish to have my remains cremated. I updated my will after returning    to London from Chicago to state that I wanted them sent to you, but if that does not go through, they may be sent to the Institute, in which case you will need to find some way of intercepting them or obtaining them from Rosie.

There is a disused burial ground in Dover with the stones overgrown, one that no one bothers to visit anymore. Somewhere in that ground is a stone for Grace Robinson. I…I ask that you scatter my ashes on her grave, and tell her…

Tell her what you wish you could say to Daniel.

Whatever else comes…good luck.

[TAPE CLICK]

[SEVERAL LONG MOMENTS OF SILENCE]

GERRY

Oh, Tim.

[TIM GIVES A SLIGHTLY BROKEN LAUGH]

TIM

You know what the worst part of it is?

GERRY

That none of that surprised you? Well, except the part about Elias Bouchard being Jonah fucking Magnus. I don’t know that I’ll ever be over that.

TIM

Honestly, no. That’s the second worst part.

The worst part is…I was just about to the point where I trusted him. Jon, I mean. Not Elias. There was never any conceivable universe where I trusted Elias. But Jon? I was ready to believe he was on the up and up.

GERRY

Bang goes that theory.

Do you think he killed Gertrude?

TIM

I don’t know. I don’t know that that matters anymore, honestly. If it was Jon or a random intruder or someone taking revenge for whatever she did to stop the Extinguished Sun or, hell, maybe that was how she stopped the Extinguished Sun, get into an old fashioned pistol duel with someone.

The important thing is that Jon knows about all this, and he’s chosen not to believe it, or else he’s chosen not to trust me. And that means I can’t trust him.

It means we’re on our own.

GERRY

Again.

TIM

Or still.

…

So I guess the big question is…now what?

[CLICK]

[cult-of-the-eye]

WAIT GUYS IT'S LIKE 1 AM AND I NEED TO SLEEP BUT OH MY GOD TMA COMMUNITY AU

Jon is abed nadir

Brown

Autistic

How much different is film making and an entrenched need to See and Know everything really?

Vaguely off putting

Gets bitches when he wants to

Listen abed is just college Jon, back when he was less traumatised

Evil abed would be Jon in like S4/5 I guess

Does that make Martin Troy Barnes????

It doesn't quite work cause Martin is neither athletic, nor a himbo and Troy wouldn't know how to use a kettle

I don't know

ELIAS IS DEAN PELTON. FUCK YEAH

GAY

(well pan technically but comes off as A Gay Man)

Tell me that when the jig is up and he's like ah caught them might as well enjoy tormenting them while I can, he wouldn't be a fucking nightmare boss dressing up in costumes

He'd be like how's my favourite archival team?????????

Low key evil and high key manipulative

But super pathetic in the end

Oh my god guys I'm so right

Sasha I think would be Britta

I know Britta was made fun of a lot for her feminist views and stuff but obviously nowadays those views are more accepted

She's got the same level of fierce determination and love for everyone around her, even if she doesn't go about it right

She would totally hack into somewhere if she could

Yeah it makes sense...sort of

Wait would Peter Lukas be pierce???

Old racist white man

Homophobic gay

Has a dynasty

Yeah

Tim could be Jeff I could maybe see that

THE RAGE

THE SUAVE

THE DADDY ISSUES

That one time where Jeff just

WAIT FUCK NO. JEFF ATTACKS A TABLE WITH AN AXE. HES JON.

Wait wait wait this makes a bit more sense

Cause Jeff cons his way into becoming a lawyer

He has huge imposter syndrome, he's faking it all

Just like Jon is

Except he's doing a better job

So imagine Jon if he had major daddy issues and a bit more charisma

They have the same level of not chill but desperately trying to cover it up

Like that one episode where pierce tries to find his dad

And he freaks the fuck out

That's such a Jon coded freaking out

He literally tears a magazine in half and then shrieks into mid air

YESSSSSSSSSSS ugh I'm such a genius

Also Jon and Elias relationship mirrors the deans and jeffs

Like the homoerotic favouritism guys

How the dean blackmails Jeff into doing karaoke with him OH MY GOD.

He only difference is the faked confidence and charisma, Jeff does it better

Oh my god wait is daisy fucking CHANG????

Insane

Murderous

Chang once chased a monkey through a vent

The hunt vibes

Or maybe chang is michael

They're both completely and utterly nonsensical

Just sort of appears and everyone is worse for it

Makes everyone's head hurt

I'm 10000% certain Chang has stabbed someone before and would do it again

Yeah that man is the most avatar of the spiral I've ever seen

Basira could be the sane security guard

Georgie is that one girl in season 6, the one who used to be a IT person

Melanie would be Annie I think, she's definitely murderous enough

This has GRIPPED me and will not let go.

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Snippet from Corruption: TMA x Malevolent crossover

Tim opened a book he shouldn't have, and now has the last remaining god in the universe stuck in his head.

In the process of dealing with that, he was marked by the Desolation - a Fear entity, based on rage.

Elias Bouchard is supposedly helping out, but he has SOME sort of plan going on - and as Tim has manifested the unexpected ability to tell when someone lies, the whole situation has gotten a weeeee bit tense.

(As always, snippet is unedited, tenses are screwy, etc. Still fun!)

-----------

Elias hadn’t lied; it’s a neat little space down there, in the Archives.

Well. It’s a mess. But the living quarters are definitely neat.

Gertrude Lara Croft Robinson is down there already, eyeing them, visibly daring commentary on the stacks of mismatched files, the open cardboard boxes balanced precariously against each other or on chairs, the truly heinous amount of cobwebs in every corner, between every shelf.

“Uh,” says Tim. “Nice haunted house you’re running here.”

“Mm,” says Elias.

Gertrude gives Tim a skewering look.

“No, really,” says Tim, stepping over six sagging boxes and around two piles of unsorted papers. “Get a fog machine down here and you’ll clean up.”

Heh, heh, heh.

“Yes, well, Gertrude insists there is a reason for all of it,” says Elias as if his kingdom is of no concern, and waves a hand to indicate all of it.

Gertrude says nothing.

Tim suddenly wonders if she’s hiding weapons in the paperwork.

The little living area is, happily, free from nonsense. A very tiny kitchenette, a small cot sharing space with boxes and office supplies, and a bathroom with a cramped toilet and sink.

“There is a shower upstairs,” says Elias, “though it is in my office, and you will need to arrange time to use it.”

“Weird,” says Tim.

Elias shrugs. “It is a very old building. James Wright had it installed, so I am to understand, but what he was thinking doing it there… well. I have no idea.”

A lie.

Tim peers at him.

Elias smiles and it is a bright, sharp thing, like light glinting off a blade. “Oh, you are good at that, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“What - was that a test?”

“It was. Over something I think you can agree, at least, is harmless.”

“Hard not to be insulted,” Tim says.

“Of course - but I had to be sure you knew on your own. I can clearly see Lord Hastur did not clue you in.”

“He wants to be called Yellow.”

It’s fine, Tim, says fucking Lord Hastur.

Tim rolls his eyes so hard they hurt. “Subject fucking change. Anyway. I don’t have my stuff, I just realized. That makes this a little bit rough.”

“Yes, I’m aware. I will send you home - during daylight - with help to gather your things and return here before darkness falls. All right? Just give me some time to make a couple of arrangements.”

Truth. “Okay. I guess. Fuck, this is… Am I really kipping in a haunted basement to hide from maggot gods?”

“I fear before all of this over, you will experience far stranger things than this,” says Elias. “Now - do try to get comfortable. I will fetch you a key, as well as the code for the alarm.”

“Elias!” snaps Gertrude.

“He is officially under our protection.” 

And there, right there, is the most real Elias has been this whole damn time, because that hardly sounded like the same man.

Even the smarm is gone, replaced with a frankly terrifying hardness, the kind that makes Tim think he could shoot a guy in the face and walk away without a second thought.

But maybe it’s necessary to corral someone like Gertrude.

She looks positively raucous for a moment, then glances at Tim.

He holds his hands up. “No quarrels with you. I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I reserve the right to kill him if he tries a ritual inside the Institute - whether or not he knows what it does,” Gertrude snaps.

“Fair,” says Elias.

“Sure?” says Tim.

Yellow sighs. 

Oh. Apparently, he had plans. Oh, well! 

Gertrude nods as if her head is an axe and marches away.

Elias sighs. “I really do apologize for her.”

Will she honor your command?

Tim snorts. “Nobody talks like that, just so you know,” he mutters.

“For a while, anyway. Her focus is ‘protecting humanity,’ whatever that means, so as long as Tim provides no such active threat, he will fall off her radar.”

“So it sounds like ‘protecting humanity’ is funny?” says Tim. “Which it kind of isn’t, so much? And I don’t know how to take that?”

“In the name of saving the world, she sacrifices people,” Elias says coldly. “It makes one wonder what the value of life is to her - and is also why I will no longer provide her with assistants.”

So that’s a whole host of unspoken stories. “Wow.”

“Indeed. I’ll send help down with a key and all shortly. Rest, Tim. As best we can, we’ll keep you safe.” Elias smiles (and, oddly enough, was telling the truth), and leaves.

Tim flops onto the cot.

It squeaks.

“That’ll make masturbating awkward,” he says without thinking.

Yellow laughs.

[em0sket]

big long horror post incoming

i worte a short horror story punctuation isnt great but whatever

insipered by tma

tw death body horror

Mr meechum:Well you got me here now what you want the full story from the top or just the incident?

documenter:Well we do what we can to try and provide a documented account of all sides of history and it gets recorded and filed in the records always best to hear everything first hand plus i'd hate for anything to slip through the cracks be twisted by the media that sort of thing of course i know its not completely 100% possible but i like to do what i can to preserve people's story from their perspective give me a second to make the official notation so tell me mr meechum what happened in the intendium labs in  september 1969

Mr meechum: firstly i know people think “scientist” is an impressive title but we didnt have breakthroughs every day not in my department anyway i was an overseer in the categorising department that meant anything and everything that was handed over by the public to the labs was sorted through by us anything seemingly dangerous usually some cheap old crap glow in the dark vases and plates suspected to be radioactive which we would test and store appropriately had a couple of suspected evidence of communist invasion which was mainly scraps of paper in code or unusual bullets one time a copy of the communist manifesto never led to anything but it had to be processed just in case said the higher ups and i wasnt going to argue  we used to get alot of weird looking stones people told us were moonrocks usually just hagstones or naturally occurring geodes but of course with the moon landing a couple months before, the paranoia of bored housewives and a couple of doped up drifters made for a drastic influx of “moonrocks” or apparent proof of alien life in my lab over the last couple of months. pretty much all of them were hoaxes or deluded fantasies but there was one that made me move to my desk job .

one of the guys brought it in scott was his name scott hawthorne but we all called him sniffer because on his first week he found three different radioactive objects without the geiger counter apparently to him they all had a distinct smell to them whatever that meant but he was right about 8/10 times so when he brought in this unassuming rock and made a big fuss over it we all joked that sniffer had gone nose blind, but he was captivated by this thing absolutely entranced he wouldn't let go of it and could tell when someone had touched it which he was right about but we could never figure out how he knew he had made it his personal project using his breaks to study it he weighed and measured and examined it was about the size of a football with a light sandy grey exterior but perfectly spherical like it had been specifically carved to look that way we all thought it was just a chisled rock he was obsessing over  for some reason ,thought he would get bored of it myself included. Ive never regretted my ignorance more because after the first week everyone in the lab been… feeling itchy ,i guess, sort of uncomfortable. There was an underlying feeling of unrest people couldnt focus it was always something, the room was too quiet, too hot, too prickly something in the air just made the guys skin crawl a sort of squirming unease began to creep under my coworkers very flesh like something was undulating under their tissue poking around burrowing. This of course whilst mildly unnerving, was more of a health concern than anything if something in the lab was making people sick it was my duty as their manager to write to head office. Which sent me to the medical team so they came around and did their checks and everyone was fine ,physically the lab was monitored and swabbed everything was normal apart from scott, he was the worst out of everyone.

He had what seemed to be a rash on the back of his neck,they checked it and it seemed to be just that they passed it off as bad laundry detergent and went on with their day and i didnt want to be causing ruckus and being pedantic so i went about my work. scott however became more and more irritated kept scratching himself adjusting his tie and began to get agitated when any coworkers tried to chat with him instinctively reaching for this rock every time they did .i got sick of his attitude one day so i suggested he take the day off and honest to god he nearly swung at me  before stopping himself and then he refused to leave eventually i had to get security in who then had to physically drag him out of the workspace along with the usual cursing he started literally spitting and hissing basically frothing at the mouth other than the paperwork this was going to require i clearly needed to have a look at that rock he was studying, test it for anything addictive or harmful something we missed. the guys in the lab obviously knew that now scott was gone someone was going to have to investigate the stone and if i didnt do it someone else would, probably with less caution, care and sense

so at lunch break i made it an event since everyone was so keen to know what was up with it. so i looked over scotts notes;his examinations of the mineral i- it didnt make any sense it was quite literally impossible it measured about 60cm across in all directions give or take a few mm and get this completely weightless completely! i checked myself first i covered it in a fire blanket with my coworkers watching  because if this thing had powered meth that sniffer had been well sniffing on it or god knows what else i didnt want to risk touching it.  Then i put it on a scale but it was right it was  hardly a fraction of a gram but the weight of it felt like a bowling ball i checked on different scales multiple times it all came out the same it wasnt physically possible so i swabbed it and ran the tests with 20 eyes watching my every movement it came out to nothing. regular old granite. Im normally pretty level headed but for some reason this enraged me this stupid all encompassing pebble had for some reason turned a good drinking buddy into a neurotic mess and was eating away at his life and sanity slowly consuming his mind and the weeks of irritation and frustration at the unrest of my skin after this inane piece of granite entered my life and workspace I dont know what came over me exactly but i had to get rid of it. it just had to go. I struck it on the tiled floor and it cracked. one crack. down the centre. about a fingers width apart and everyone was waiting for my next move  so i ducttaped my lab coat and two pairs of vinyl gloves closed around the wrist completely sealed just in case.

i looked over at the spot it fell when a keen and sure  sense of dread awoke within me id never been so deeply instinctualy fearful like that before some primal part of my brain screaming bloody murder that i needed to get out now the same as  how i imagine a fish feels when it sinks its jaw into the hook. But i mean what else was i going to do let it continue ruining lives? So i swallowed my fear and strode over all eyes on me the impossible hunk of earth at my fee.t i wedged one finger in between the ridges of its crack held the base of the infernal sphere and pried it open. the rock was spongy and sulphur yellow with a smell of utter decay a groan came from my audience of staff and my hands sank through the geode at first contact it had the look of  a rotted mattress and the feel of raw sausages my hand shot back  as i processed the texture in my mind and gazed at the honey combed innards that looked like something had buried through it like the remains of a parasite that had dug its way through the structure of the rock infinite amounts making little homes for itself repeatedly squirming and writhing its way through something stronger than itself im glad i moved my hand when i did because it started to pulse looking like it was ejecting something from itself sort of like a cat hacking up a furball

all those tiny divots and passage ways convusled and shuddered out  long thin flailing tendrils it looked like it had coated itself with a blue mucus possibly a toxin im not sure but they didnt stop i never saw the end of them it just kept reeling out of its honeycomb shell endless worming tubes of muscle they flopped onto the white tiled floor leaving trails of foul smelling hot ooze behind it and started hunting for something to attatch itself to. moving at an alarming pace  each tentacle flattening itself onto the ground as wide as it could possibly to feel what was in the area .what it could devour. i dont think it had any eyes just meteres and meteres of viscous curling feelers everyone took a step back apart from one of the lab guys poor harry poor dear sweet stupid harry had his shoelaces untied we used to laugh at him for it you know said it wouldnt hurt him to give it a go and tie the damn things once in a while but as he lurched backwards the vile things clamped onto them and wouldnt let go by the time he realised they had gotten over his socks and onto his bare legs. digging.

There was a moment of pure panic and stillness when we all watched. until he started screaming, then we burst into action ,we started looking for something to help maybe a fire extinguisher or another gas that would subdue it  better yet kill it but the fool tried to crush it harry fell to his knees onto his shins in an effort to beat the thing into a pulp which in turn let the creature find his knees and climb its way up his torso onto his face where it promptly found the eye and started to burrow. chewing through the poor sod boring a new home in his skull and ill never forget the god awful sound , like meat ripping wet and visceral and it  left a trail of purple on his face as the blood from his retinas mixed with the things mucus then when his screaming stopped we all watched the tentacles crawl out of his mouth having  bored through most of the face hitting the ground with a meaty slap but no one moved  most were just as far away as they could get from the carnivorous eels mostly climbing on cabinets in an effort to not touch the ground i when the things again started flattening themselves to search once again this time with a larger diameter than before presumably because of it last meal 

god knows what i did was cowardly i was a person of interest for 10 years for christs sake i had to get out of it by to claiming “mental unrest” but i saw the broom cupboard and hid i had the key so i hid i didnt know what else to do i mean they dont train you for this it was just sheer panic fight or flight  but i dont forget those screams i dont forget the ripping of flesh i dont forget the people i once knew and their hollowed out skull i dont forget the smell of blood and sulfur that plays back on my senses even now thats what people dont get ive been stuck on that day for the last 53 yearsit got on the sunday times front page after that i  got spat at in the street and jeered at on the way to court then thats it shows over everyone goes home and i have to live with it  i cant go to support groups because people have heard of me the broken families i caused the psych evals every year did you know henrys daughter at the age of three asked me at the funeral why i killed her daddy? it’s taken me years to be able to shift myself into a semi normal life but yeah i suppose thats it the whole bloody story  

documenter: thank you that was... fufilling -exits

[greateggcult]

I posted 11,946 times in 2021

326 posts created (3%)

11620 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 35.6 posts.

I added 816 tags in 2021

#jdate energy - 352 posts

#dream smp - 72 posts

#tma energy - 69 posts

#ramblings - 67 posts

#dsmp stuff - 56 posts

#dsmp energy - 50 posts

#dsmp - 45 posts

#jokes - 39 posts

#wkm energy - 33 posts

#jdate stuff - 33 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#a few years ago drew out a bunch of stages sprites and wrote abilities and speech before remembering that i don't know computer programming

My Top Posts in 2021

#5

Heist 2 in 360 vr

63 notes • Posted 2021-05-14 02:48:07 GMT

#4

Some parts of this fandom need to be properly exposed to B-movie roasting. Just because somebody watches, reads, or plays something bad doesn’t instantly make them a bad person. Most people are not going “monkey see monkey do” out of nowhere and dispose of their morals the instant they see somebody else get away with something doing morally wrong. The opposite is also true. Bad people can have good taste or watch good things but that won’t magically make them a good person. May I utter the cursed, Bronies watch a literal children’s show about morals and friendship, and yet they are known across the internet for their sins.

If Mark’s reactions to the game shown in his videos are anything to go by, he does not agree with the game’s writing. 

HP is gross in multiple ways, and being disgusted and upset by things that oppose your moral code or ethics or philosophy is normal. The idea as to what is right or wrong isn’t cleanly black and white down the middle, it’s mostly varying shades of grey, which can and will lead to uncertainty at times and that is also normal.

Also if you don’t like the game you aren’t obligated to watch it or give money to the people that made it, heck you can leave a bad review in the game store and that would do more to prevent games like that from being made than it does to complain to Mark about it.

80 notes • Posted 2021-02-25 21:43:49 GMT

#3

How does c!Ranboo bathe?

facts:

- Ranboo is allergic to water

- Fire doesn’t feel too good either

-potions are expensive

conclution?

Ranboo takes dust baths like the chinchillas do.

Enderman bath sand

85 notes • Posted 2021-07-28 00:47:21 GMT

#2

Sequel to the tube

87 notes • Posted 2021-03-12 05:50:07 GMT

#1

The sad little "that's- that's not my name" in Charlie's dsmp character perspective video after Quackity blutly admits to calling him slime. The boy needs a hug. Also he might benefit from talking with Fundy about it.

S: Nobody is treating me like a real boy.

Fundy: Oh. I think I might have an idea as to what's going on here.

S: You do?

Fundy: Let me ask you. Am I a man?

S: Y-Yeah?

Fundy: What if I told you that I wasn't always the man that I am now? What if I told you that I also had to build who I was from the ground up over many years?

S: Are- Are you a slime brother?!?

Fundy: Not exactly. Do you know what being a girl is?

S: Not really, but I can guess from what I've seen of the girls around the server.

Fundy: what if I told you that I used to be seen as one of them?

S: wait. Are you telling me that you used to be a girl?

Fundy: Sort of. I was a girl but I never felt comfortable being one and I figured out it was because I am a boy and want to be seen as a real boy.

S: *gasp* Like me.

Fundy: You want to know how I did it?

S: Yes, please do tell me.

Fundy: I set solid social boundaries, held my ground, found a name for myself, and told people directly how to address me.

S: ooh... Do you think you could help me find my name?

Fundy: It would be an honor.

98 notes • Posted 2021-07-12 01:20:15 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

[ollieofthebeholder]

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

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] Also on AO3

Chapter 9: Jon

“Sit down, boss,” Tim says insistently.

“Jon, please,” Martin—the real Martin—says, his voice soft. “We’ll explain, just...sit down. Please.”

Jon doesn’t want to sit down. He wants to stay standing, to put himself between this—this thing wearing his assistant’s face, his skin—and the three people he’s already nearly lost tonight. But he responds to the please and sits, slowly, never taking his eyes off the creature claiming to be Martin Blackwood from the future.

It’s a good likeness, he has to admit. The...creature or whatever it is looks almost identical to his—the real Martin, down to the odd twist in one set of cables on his sweater (not that Jon’s spent a lot of time staring at Martin or his sweater, of course, only that it’s not quite even and the oddity catches his attention) and that one errant curl that never seems to do what he wants it to. But this creature is also...muted is the best way Jon can think of to describe it. As if someone has turned down the saturation on a picture, or coated the whole thing in a grey wash.

“How long were you waiting for us?” Tim asks the other Martin. It seems safer to think of him that way.

“Not long,” Other-Martin answers. “Maybe a minute.”

“Really? It took you that long to get here? Must’ve been a hell of a complicated route.”

Other-Martin gives a soft snort of laughter without a lot of humor in it. “Time in those corridors doesn’t follow the same rules. As far as I could tell, I was only in there five, ten minutes, tops.”

“Tim, you invited this here?” Jon exclaims.

Tim shrugs. “It seemed safer than leaving him in the tunnels under the Institute. You know, what with the worms and the police and everything. Hard enough to explain to us what’s going on, but someone who doesn’t deal with this every day?”

Other-Martin tilts his head slightly, but his gaze is directed at Jon. It makes him feel uneasy, for reasons he can’t quite explain. He tries to bring his chin up defiantly, but he’s aware of the fact that he’s terrified and wonders if this creature can smell fear. “And you expect us to just...believe you. That you’re—that you’re Martin come back from the future. There is no scientific explanation for time travel—”

“There probably is, actually, but that’s got nothing to do with how I came back,” Other-Martin interrupts. “And no. I don’t expect you to just...believe me. Not like that. I mean, especially not right now. I know you well enough to know you’re pushing the skeptic thing as hard as you are because you know it’s real and you’re afraid. You can feel something watching you when you’re recording the statements, the real ones, the ones that you have to do on the tape, yeah? That’s what you told me. So you believe in the supernatural and the paranormal and all that, but that doesn’t mean you want to. And it sure doesn’t mean you’re going to believe I am who I say I am without some kind of proof.”

For just a moment, Jon is speechless. He’s never told anyone about that persistent feeling, or his belief that the “difficult” statements are actually true encounters. He certainly wouldn’t have told Martin, although if he’s being honest, Martin is probably the only one he would have trusted with that knowledge. To hear it pour out of someone else’s mouth is startling, to say the least. It’s not really proof, of course, but it’s certainly enough to crack the shell of skepticism Jon hides behind.

“Wait,” Sasha interrupts. “You’re saying those statements...the ones that won’t go on the laptop...they’re real? Like, they actually happened?”

“They did, yeah. I know they’re hard to verify, but, well, that’s the thing about the paranormal. Ghosts don’t leave a lot of physical evidence. And...well, people see what they want to see, and they rationalize out a lot of things they don’t.” Other-Martin sighs. “It used to drive Basira nuts.”

“Basira?” Tim asks.

“Ah—you haven’t met her yet, I don’t think. Unless you...no, she was one of the officers on the scene when all this happened in my timeline, but honestly, I had a hard time concentrating on who I talked to that night and who I talked to later. I was too busy worrying about—” Other-Martin snaps off the sentence. “She’s a cop. One of the officers assigned to the investigation at the Institute. In our timeline, she...eventually got hired to work in the Archives. It’s—”

“A long story?” Martin says, sounding tired.

Other-Martin holds up his hands. “I know, I know. I promise, we’ll explain everything as soon as—”

“We?” Jon and Sasha say in unison.

“I didn’t come back alone. Well, I mean—we came back separately, but I’m not the only one who came back. We were warned we’d probably end up in different places, though.”

Tim lifts an eyebrow and grins. “Ooh, did you arrange a rendezvous at a secret meeting point? Send one another coded messages?”

“Tim,” Sasha hisses, elbowing him.

Other-Martin smiles, a little wistfully. “I wouldn’t say that, but...the plan we worked out before we came back involved us being at the Archives, so we were going to meet there. I have no doubt they’re on their way there.”

“And when they get there?” Martin asks quietly. “When they show up and see...everything that’s happening? What then? Did you have a—a backup plan?”

“Not really. But my guess? They’ll come looking for me. Or at least for you all.”

Jon tenses. “Looking for us? Why?”

“We were always planning to bring you all into it, after we...took care of Jane Prentiss. This wasn’t...exactly how we planned to do that, it got a bit out of hand, but I had to improvise, and I didn’t do it well.” Other-Martin gives another soft huff of not-all-that-amused laughter. “I’m quite literally lost without them. But I don’t doubt for a minute that if they can’t find me, they’ll come to you all.”

Jon is torn. On the one hand, he wants to shout at this creature, demand to know what its game actually is, chase it from the building, and keep it from coming anywhere near his assistants ever again. On the other hand...the more he talks, the easier it is to believe what he’s saying. Also, this isn’t Jon’s house and it’s not exactly his place to deny access to it.

“How did you get in here, anyway?” Jon decides a change of subject might clear his mind.

“Michael,” Other-Martin answers.

“That thing that attacked Sasha?” Jon exclaims. “You’re friends with it?”

“Oh, God, no,” Other-Martin says with another laugh that has no humor in it. “Michael hates anything to do with the Archives. Not necessarily without reason. I just managed to talk him into a temporary truce. Mostly I told him I knew what would happen to him and if he didn’t want to be utterly destroyed, he’d best help me out. I think that’s the only favor I’m actually going to get out of him, though.”

Sasha rubs her temples with her fingers. “Wait, wait. If he hates us so much, why would he tell me how to save everyone?”

Other-Martin hesitates. Beside Jon, Martin sighs deeply. “Is this another ‘telling you might be dangerous until someone who can protect you shows up’ thing?” In response to the startled look Jon shoots his way, Martin gestures at his doppelganger. “That’s what he keeps saying when I push too hard.”

“Look, I know it’s frustrating, but it’s also serious. You might be okay tonight, but...I’m just reluctant to risk it until—”

A firm rapping sound interrupts him. Sasha glances at Tim. “Somebody’s knocking at your door.”

Martin hums something under his breath, which brings that sad, wistful smile to Other-Martin’s face for a second. Tim gets up. “I’ll be right back. Try not to kill Martin Prime while I’m gone.”

“Really, Tim? Star Trek reference?” Sasha snorts.

“How about you? You understood that,” Tim shoots back at her before disappearing down the hallway.

Jon wonders whether to demand an explanation or not when a yelp comes from the direction of the doorway. He’s on his feet before he can think about it, nerves thrumming with adrenaline, not sure if he wants to launch himself down the hall to drag Tim to safety or stay where he is to protect Martin and Sasha. Sasha and...their guest rise from their seats, too, all of them tense for a moment. There’s the sound of voices, too low to be distinguishable, and then, unmistakably, Tim’s laughter, and Jon relaxes a little bit. Not hurt, at least. Then Tim comes back into the room, bringing with him a person who takes the breath from Jon’s lungs.

It’s him.

Or at least, the tiny part of his brain that insists on remaining skeptical says, it’s someone who looks like him—albeit a bit less like him than the other Martin looks like his—their Martin. His hair is longer than Jon is wearing his right now—more like the length he wore it in uni, if he’s being honest—pulled back into a sort of half-ponytail and far more liberally streaked with grey. His face and hands are dotted with round scars, and Jon’s stomach lurches as he realizes they’re probably from the worms. There are probably more scars, but they’re impossible to see, as he’s draped in a dark green sweater several sizes too big for him. He looks weary, like he’s carrying far greater a burden than one would reasonably expect to fit in the pack on his back, but he’s also smiling a little. It’s Jon’s smile, that’s for sure, just...sadder, somehow.

He stops dead just inside the room. All the tension seems to drain from him. “Martin,” he gasps.

The other Martin’s face lights up. “Jon?”

Jon swears he doesn’t see his counterpart move. One moment he’s standing just inside the doorway and the next he’s in front of the sofa, and the two of them are embracing tightly. The other Jon’s bag slips to the floor with a soft thud, but neither of them seem to notice it.

“Oh, thank God,” Other-Jon chokes out. The words tumble out in a semipanicked, breathless rush. “I couldn’t find you, I tried to use the—to Know where you were, but it was—I c-couldn’t see you and I was worried, I tried to tell myself you would be fine, but I—I didn’t think about—I should have realized whatever hid you from the Eye would mean I wouldn’t be able to see you either, but I thought since it was you I’d—”

“Jon, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Other-Martin says, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Are you all right? You’re not hurt?” Other-Jon pulls back enough that he can look up into Other-Martin’s face, but doesn’t let go of him. If anything, his grip seems to tighten just a little.

“I’m fine,” Other-Martin assures him. “I’m okay. Are you all right?”

“I am now.” Other-Jon pulls him into another tight hug.

Jon feels a bit like he’s watching something he shouldn’t be privy to, but at the same time, he can’t look away. Partly because the reunion is so compelling, partly due to what feels like the same thing that grips him when he’s reading those statements, but mostly because he does not want to see the look on Tim’s face right now, thank you very much. And he’s not sure he can look at Martin without making a fool of himself.

Whatever else happens in the future, he finds himself thinking, at least he loosens up enough that he can express how he actually feels instead of trying to hide behind a professional facade. Because this is pretty much how he wanted to react when he saw Martin emerge from the quarantine tent—to wrap him up in a hug, to tell him how glad he was that he was safe, to reassure himself Martin was alive and whole. It’s why he was so quick to help him walk. He almost envies his future self this freedom, the ability to just wrap his arms around Martin and know he’s all right. Whatever else they’ve gone through—and from their appearances, they’ve been through a lot—at least he has this.

He realizes the direction his thoughts are trending and clenches his teeth, mentally grasping the last bit of skepticism in his mind with both hands. He still can’t be completely sure these two are really them from the future. Yes, they look a lot like him and Martin, sound like them, but...what was it his cousin used to say? Correlation does not imply causation. There could be a perfectly normal explanation for this—a non-supernatural one, one that doesn’t involve time travel or the end of the world or anything like that. He’s just got to figure out what that explanation is.

Tim, naturally, is the one to break the silence. “So!” he says, settling onto the sofa and stretching out his arms along the back. “Should we be expecting Tim Prime and Sasha Prime to come along any minute now?”

“No,” Other-Jon says quietly, drawing back from Other-Martin with visible reluctance. “No, it’s only us.”

He turns to look at Tim and Sasha, and Jon finds himself torn between the desire to shift and stand between them and the fear of leaving Martin exposed if he does so. He takes a small step forward and speaks up, drawing the attention back to himself. “How do we know you’re really from the future? What proof is there that you’re really who you say you are?”

“Well, we believe them,” Tim says. “Or at least we believe him.” He waves at Other-Martin.

“Not good enough, I’m afraid,” Other-Jon says before Jon can. There’s a faint hint of amusement in his tone. “You’re all rather too credulous. It’s easy to convince you. He’s far less ready to believe on flimsy evidence. Proof, that’s what’s needed.”

Tim tilts his head sideways, as if considering that. “He’s certainly got you pegged, Boss.”

Jon narrows his eyes. He rather suspects he’s being mocked, and he doesn’t like it in the slightest. “If that’s the best you can come up with—” he begins.

“A Guest for Mister Spider,” Other-Martin interrupts.

Jon’s entire body goes still with horror as the memories come rushing in, not that they’re ever far from his mind. He fights very hard to keep it from showing on his face, however, and says as evenly as he can, “I beg your pardon?”

“Your grandmother bought it in the bargain bin a charity shop when you were about eight.” Other-Martin’s eyes seem to stare right through Jon, as if they’re seeing him all those years ago, walking down the streets unknowingly with his nose buried in a book. “It was your first encounter with the supernatural. Your first encounter with the name Jurgen Leitner. It’s why you came to work at the Institute in the first place.”

The words are as gentle and as inexorable as falling snow, and just as chilling. Jon’s very soul seems to freeze. He stares at the other Martin without really seeing him, without really seeing anything except the darkness within that door, the boy whose name he can’t remember vanishing in its depths, the growing smears of red on black and white drawings...

“Jon? Jon, are you all right?” Martin sounds worried, but he also sounds very far away.

Other-Martin looks slightly embarrassed as he turns to look at Other-Jon. “Too far?”

“No—no, I-I think that was...just about right.” Other-Jon reaches out and presses two fingers to Jon’s shoulder, pushing him downward. “Sit down and breathe, Archivist.”

It’s the word Archivist that pushes through the fog in Jon’s brain, oddly enough. It at least serves to remind him that he’s not actually eight years old anymore. He draws in a deep, shuddering gasp of air and sits down rather heavily, jostling both Sasha and Tim.

Other-Martin and Other-Jon sit down as well. Jon notices, with the part of his brain not currently paging through the Owner’s Manual to the Human Body for the instructions on breathing, that Other-Jon rests his hand on top of Other-Martin’s. Other-Martin strokes Other-Jon’s thumb with his own in slow, careful strokes. It’s a gesture that speaks of intimacy and tenderness, and a jealousy curls in his stomach that he has no idea what to do with. Other-Jon’s free hand taps on his thigh as his eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, Jon assumes it’s an idle fidget until his brain latches onto the regularity of it and realizes what it is. He’s counting out the seconds to regulate his own breathing.

All the fight goes out of Jon in that instant. He knows when he’s beaten. This other who bears his face is him, not some stranger or monster or evil being. Which means the other must be Martin. They are from the future. They’re telling the truth.

He’s not going to admit that out loud, not just yet, but they slide from being Others to being Primes, as Tim called them, in his mind.

After a moment, Jon Prime squeezes Martin Prime’s fingers briefly, exhales, and opens his eyes. “I...I suppose you have more than a few questions.”

“You could say that,” Tim agrees.

“So where do we start?” Sasha asks, the last word nearly being swallowed in a yawn.

Jon is burning with curiosity, but he also recognizes that Sasha is tired, and likely Tim as well. And Martin...Martin must be absolutely wiped out. His own energy, the adrenaline that’s been driving him since he saw the emergency lights at the Institute, is starting to flag. It’s late.

“As much as I’d like to know what the hell is going on here, I think most of it can wait until tomorrow, when we’re all fresh,” he says, putting as much authority into his words as he can. “I need to get your statements before you start forgetting the details.”

“I don’t know if that’s possible,” Sasha says, not quite under her breath.

Martin Prime snorts. “It’s not. Best to get your statements done now, though. Trust me.”

Tim raises an eyebrow. “I think Martin should go first.”

Jon turns to look fully at Martin. He’s visibly exhausted, but he nods, eyes fixed unwaveringly on Jon.

Jon exhales. “All right, then.”