#and also gerry is alive and gets to be happy actually. is this anything.

[atlas-five]

tma changed my fucking brain chemistry I'll literally never be the same

[autismprotocol]

TMAGP Theory Board (Episode 8-9)

Hi guys sorry about the missed week of theory crafting my schoolwork has been extra demanding and I haven't been able to get around to updating the board until now so here's the updated board

Episode 8 especially was insane so I'm gonna break the episode breakdown into two sections.

What Happened in Episode 8: Running On Empty

New Norris Statement! it's been a while since we heard from our buddy and he did not disappoint. though there's not much to say story-wise this was just a cool incident report I loved the way they described the Lonely as a constantly hungry entity. I also noticed that the pattern of Norris's statements having to do with lost love continues to be true. it's much more subtle than his previous two incidents but the statement giver does mention losing his wife because of divorce. which I believe still follows the pattern I've theorized is taking place. 

Something up with Alice. She seems more depressed and serious than she usually is in this episode. (through episode 9 I think I know why but I'll get to that later. I don't believe she is completely in the dark like some of the newer employees and after hearing about Gwen's promotion she is getting suspicious. we have yet to know if Alice knows what's happening. but her behavior in this episode might give us a hint about how naive she actually is.

Colin is Absent. After his freakout in EP 7, Colin is MIA. according to Lena, he's on a mental health break but I would not be surprised if that is a lie.

Gerry and Gertrude are Alive!! Probably the most exciting development in this episode was meeting an alive Gerry Keay and Gertrude Robison. Sam is on the hunt for info about the Magnus Institute after the emails Jon has been sending him and he and Celia end up meeting Gerry who in this universe is considerably more happy and lives with Gertrude. I'm interested to know what role Gertrude plays in this universe is she at all connected to the Institute? I definitely think something is up with her because of the way she tries to deflect Sam's question to Gerry.

Celia Lore. after the meeting with Gerry leads to a dead end for Sam, Celia asks him to help her with her mystery. "I'm trying to look into... Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation" More proof for this Celia being from from Archives. why else would she be looking into other dimensions specifically if she wasn't trying to figure out what happened at the Panopticon. (Remember as far as we know Celia before the change in Archives was just a normal person she had no connection to the entities or the Institute.) when Sam asks, she says it's for her friend's podcast but I think she's lying. or not telling the full truth.

Georgie Barker Perhaps? speaking of the friend. our last reveal of the episode is Georgie in protocol. I don't think she is from Archives because Georgie appears after Jons's sacrifice in MAG 200. 

And thats it for episode 8 so im gonna move on to Episode 9

What happened in Episode 9: Rolling With It

Sam is back to filling out onboarding paperwork but the questions on it are strange. asking about past traumas, how many dead things you've seen recently, and the infamous question why? similar types of questions that appear in TMA job interviews.

A Magnus Statement!?! After Celia tells Sam she can't find anything at the Magnus Institute Sam considers cutting his losses and letting it go. But then Chester without any prompting begins reading a Magnus statement incident to Sam. I still believe Chester is Jon and he acts as a mentor to Sam trying to keep him safe by providing him with bits of the answers he's looking for. (this way Sam won't be in danger of looking for answers elsewhere and maybe he won't be targeted by this unknown force that had killed RedCanary and driven Colin to extreme paranoia.) the statement reveals that the institute collected and stored artifacts much like the Institute in Archives. 

What's the deal with the Institute? the statement Chester shares this episode is pretty standard Magnus stuff, magic fear dice is just another Thursday for TMAG enjoyers. but what I found most interesting was the pre-statement info. What does this viability survey mean? viable for what? I and my roommate have a kind of joke theory that the Institute in this universe is a hub for training and creating new avatars but now I'm starting to think this might actually be the case. I think they are looking for people who have the potential to become avatars as subjects. for the agents, they might be employing avatars to work for the institute and the catalyst has to be finding an avatar that can complete the ritual and bring the Change. The unknown statement giver in this episode can't be a subject because they are already claimed by a power from the dice (still unsure what power it is ) they have low potential to become an agent because based on the end of the statement they now want nothing to do with the dice stepping away from their identity as a fear avatar and then dying. and for some reason, the institute must see some potential that this individual can serve as a catalyst for the ritual. I'm hopeful we'll get another avatar statement and maybe we can revisit this Viability survey again 

Gwen's First assignment. Gwen gets her first Liason assignment and it has brought up a major player from the protocol ARG. Mr Bonzo is this weird mascot character that showed up multiple times in the ARG that was launched back in the fall of 2023. Gwen is tasked with delivering an envelope with a name and address to Nigel Dickerson someone who according to Gwen is known for Mr. Bonzo. Basically, I have no idea where this is going but I definitely think it must be important. 

Poor Alice. Alice meets with Teddy to catch up. Nothing story significant happens here but we do learn that maybe Alice still harbors some romantic feelings towards Sam.

The Ruins. After her conversation with Teddy Alice is approached by Sam with a request. He wants to go to the old Magnus Institute ruins and wants Alice to come with him. This is definitely a bad idea but she agrees and that's where we leave off

and thats it for now. The story is getting so good and I'm already attached to all the characters so im terrified to see what Sam and alice dig up at the ruins (Sam clearly didn't heed the warning of the RedCanary)

[disappointingcabbage]

Episode 8 recap because holy fucking shit

Statement once again giving some credence to the whole “desires” thing

Alice is a little shit and I love her for it

Gwen not actually getting to do anything with her new promotion yet, maybe Lena was bullshitting her lmao

Gerry!!! He’s alive!!! My favorite goth!! And hes happy!!!

who the fuck is Gee Ge-

GERTRUDE????

GRANDSON?????

Does this mean she killed Mary after Mary killed Eric and/or adopted Gerry after she nuked the institute because if so good for her tbh

Also I’m so glad Gerry’s painting for fun in this one good for him

I get the feeling he might have lied a bit about the institute but knowing him he was probably just trying to protect Sam and Celia

CELIA WAS ON WHAT THE GHOST!!! ALSO GEORGIE EXISTS IN THIS UNIVERSE!!!!

I feel like this episode just fucking yote me repeatedly across a room holy shit

[easilyentertained99]

Wow what an episode. Well First off

COLINNNNNNNNN <3

He might not be happy or healthy but he sure is alive and up to... something? Kinda ominous sounding? He's way too calm. FR3-D1 count your days?

Loved the talkshow segment! Did not love Mr. Bonzo. Not at all. Please don't tell him I think he knows where I live.

Gwen killed me with that "can he read" tbh she was not panicking enough cause what the absolute fuck was that

There was a name and address in the envelope so is Lena asking Mr Bonzo to go take care of somebody wink wink? Yeah that tracks since she can't do it herself. Is that how Klaus or what's his face ended up getting himself got? She hired a freaky kids' mascot? Smart move, I hear they're pretty good at it.

So who does Lena want dead? First one that popped into my head was Colin, then Teddy since he made a recent appearance, "name and address" sure reminded me of Gerry and GeeGee but idkkkkk man I don't know what her deal is.

So um

CLICK

Magnus Institute Manchester!!!

I'm trying very hard to think about this in the context of tmagp because it is its own thing but I'm like a russian sleeper agent awaking when I hear my trigger word like Archive??? worms??? Worms??? WORMS??? Ancient otherwordly powers?????

I would question it but half of the shit Alice says is just Like That and I have no idea what to make of it at all

But she's right she is so sexy

<33333

In love with "floor creaks ominously btw"

Sam and Alice miraculously make it out alive. No one even got nibbled on or anything.

fucking tape recorders man fuck offffffffff

The scene at the end was so scary tbh cause that is a ruin who is moving who is BREATHING. THAT WAS A BREATH. EW. Also I thought I heard spiders???? better not be spiders. AHHHHHHHHH

Wow can you guys believe this is the 10th episode? There's so much happening and I'm actually so scared lol

I'm so excited for my will to liv-I mean this great podcast to come back in April !

[somanyfuckedupiftruebooks]

TMAGP8

Oh fuck liminal spaces that drive you insane. What does that remind me of?

Brutal liminality babeey I love it.

I wonder if any of these sources are actually real or if they're all fictional?

'Architectural hunger' 😘

Woah these spaces are disconnected from the human mindscape that's so cool.

This epsode would probably be hitting me harder if I had any idea what this place looked like.

Paused the episode to try googling it and couldn't find anything. Is it not a real place??

Hmmm. Empty spaces. Hunger. Hallucinating lights. Hiding from miasma. So far it's been feeling like most of these statements are combinations of a couple of entities, like they've become blurred with each other by travelling between dimensions. This one could be Spiral and Lonely? Fear takes many forms.

Oh shit no time for meta speculation there's a sharply dressed woman becoming you through an open door!! Run the other way my dude you have got to get out of there!!

'You are here'??

Yeah you should not have gotten in that lift. Terrible mistake.

Cool ghost restaurant.

Oh creepy they're all fake talking. And they have the same features! It's like in the Matrix when all the background chaarcters are identical twins. Or that Lonely statement about the tourist who gets lost in the featureless crowd.

'Stay a while' nope gtfo.

Ah!! They're gonna eat him!!

Yuck they're eating him alive.

Did Jonny write this episode? Reminds me of that game he played about the house that eats you alive. (Alex wrote it)

Oh yeah lol this was supposed to be an academic paper. Kinda lost the plot there.

Oh Gwen you have no idea what you're getting into, I wouldn't be so smug about it if I were you.

Uh oh, see ya Colin. Enjoy your mental health leave.

Where are Sam and Celia?

Gerry??

GG??

AHHHHHHH OMFG OMFG IMFNFGMFJF???????

IS THIS GERRY AND GERTRUDE

AHHHH HUSBAND BACK FROM THE DEAD?????? I DIDN'T RECOGNISE HIM BECAUSE HE SOUNDED HAPPY AHHHHHHH

But that's Gertrude for sure. I may not know my goths but I know a bitch when I hear one.

HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHSHAHAH

why are they living together what the FUCK

What is going on??

Oh Gerry is painting 🥰🥰🥺🥰🥺🥰🥺🥰🥺🥺 he has so many he has to give them away

GRANDSON????

Wait does that make Eric Delano her son? That's insane. WHAT IS GOING ON.

YEAH GERTRUDE. DO YOU KNOW ANYTHING ABOUT THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE.

(Also seriously what the fuck is Sam up to? Did he get this job just to investigate the Institute? Why is he so obsessed with it?)

Oh shit he was in one of their gifted kids programs. That's why he's so obsessed with it. Hmm. Maybe I would have less questions if I listened to the episode for more than two seconds at a time, but this is how I'm choosing to record my thoughts so.... no.

Gerry was in the program too??

Ahhhh he's so happy!!! I'm dying!!!

Please please please let his happiness be real and fine and good and normal and not a symptom of something terrible going on. Don't hurt me like this. Please. I need there to be a version of him that's okay.

I've only had cheerful Gerry for two minutes and if anything happens to him I will kill everyone in this podcast and then myself.

Why is he living with Gertrude. Why is she pretending to be his grandmother. Why doesn't he remember anything about the gifted program. Does Sam not remember anything either. Is that why he's investigating it. What the fuck happened to them when they were kids.

Gerry is so genuine and Gertrude is so obviously dodging their questions and hiding shit. Something's up. She's weirdly indulgent and playing along with him. She knows something.

IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO MY BOY I WILL RIOT.

Big painting <3

Oh it was Celia's idea? What's she up to?

Ahahah she's investigating time travel and other dimensions. I wonder what that could possibly be about. Trying to travel back home or confused about how she got here in the first place? How much does she even know?

Podcast??

GEORGIE??!!

What is up with this episode and bringing back characters whose names start with the letter G?

Okay okay okay. Like. Our Georgie or this dimension's Georgie? (she's a podcaster in every dimension)

The presence of Gerry and Gertrude menas that this dimension has doubles of people we knew from TMA, so is there another Jon and Martin here?

Is Celia looking for them? Is Georgie?

AHHHH SO MANY QUESTIONS

But who gives a shit about that I got to hear a happy version of my HUSBAND hahahhahaha 🥰😘🥰🥰🥰🥰😘😬🥰🥰🥰😘

(Gerry and Gertrude's voice acyors not credited? Why would that be?)

[lyx456]

Magnus Protocol episode 8 thoughts:

-not gonna lie i didn't understand anything from the beginning of the statement and a bit aftet that so I will have to google translate it later probably

-from the things I got tho: WOOOOO LIMINAL SPACES BABYYYYY

-the statement was pretty creepy I always liked the lonely parts in previous ones so it was fun to hear something similar again

-I didn't check the trigger warnings this time so the cannibalism took me by surprise

-I would too jump out of a window rather then get eaten alive so based

-Alice my beloved

-okay so we still don't know wtf is Gwen supposed to do now after the promotion got it

-Colin got a mental health leave?? Didn't expect that good for him

-HOLY FUCK GERRY SOUNDS SO HAPPY IT ACTUALLY MADE ME TEAR UP MY BOY 😭 like I am going insane I think hearing him talk about painting and laughing and crap broke me

-also hello Gertrude I did not expect to hear you like at all for some reason (Gigi is a sweet nickname i guess you better treat Gerry well here or i swear to god)

-I knew some stuff from the arg so no surprises there about the experiments and Gerry and Sam being part of them

-I FUCKING KNEW IT CELIA IS SO NOT FROM THIS WORLD SHE KNOWS CRAP

- GEORGIE 🥰

[bifrostarchivist]

tma fic recs

hi i’ve been been going through my bookmarks so here’s a list of some of my favorite tma fics! a lot of these are pretty angsty though so you should heed the trigger warnings!

jon-centric fics

Farewell Wanderlust by CombatBootsAndDreams

Jonathan Sims never had enough time. It was always slipping through his fingers like sand through an hourglass. He could see it passing but could do nothing as it took more and more things from him. So he learned to measure everything in actions instead of seconds.

Or: The many moments used to measure the life of one Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

i love this one it hurts me real bad!

the bell tolls by softlyblue

Jon knows about death, and he knows about dying. He tries to plan around his own.

this one also really hurts me!

Touch Me, Even it Hurts by AuralQueer

People don't really touch Jonathan Sims unless they want to hurt him. That's mostly fine. Jon has never been a tactile person, and he doesn't need anyone but himself.

Except the world is falling down around him, and loneliness aches, and sometimes he'll take anything - even cruelty - just to feel human again.

*A story set between s1 and s4, looking at Jon's relationship with touch, friendship, and his own humanity.

i cried over this one a lot yesterday! it’s wonderful and so fucking sad

jonmartin fics

the garden of forking paths by bibliocratic

Whatever he had predicted might happen, Jon wasn't expecting to survive upon demolishing the Panopticon. He certainly wasn't expecting to be rescued.

Instead, he wakes up in an alternative universe where he's never been the Archivist, and Martin Blackwood doesn't exist.

Martin Blackwood wakes up somewhere else entirely.

i love this one a lot! made me really fucking emotional

The Power of Self-Respect by IceEckos12 & PitViperOfDoom

Jon's life has never been easy, but he's now in a place where he has friends, his job isn't wretched, and best of all, he's dating Martin Blackwood. Things are finally starting to turn around for him, so of course that's when he learns that he must defeat Martin's seven exes in order to stay with him.

There's something fishy about this whole thing, Jon is sure of it. But the only way to find out what is to throw down the gauntlet and fight for his love.

the scout pilgrim au i never knew i needed! i went into this expecting crack but now every time it gets updated it’s all i can think about for the rest of the day and it is very painful. it’s so good.

Desperate Measures by quantumducky

Helen offers to help, and Jon is just tired and miserable enough to accept. Turns out her idea of "helping" is to turn his brain into confused mush and then make that Martin's problem. Somehow, it all works out.

this one! fuck! i love it. made me so sad. but also. a happy ending! i miss helen.

See the Line, where the Sky meets to Sea by The_Floating_World

When Jon is a child he looks into the infinite abyss of space. The Vast looks back into him.

also has some jon/oliver! some found family! vast!jon my beloved...

jongerry fics

Til Death, Parted by Hecatetheviolet

“But, yes, if you all really must know, I married Gerard Keay in Las Vegas.” The total stillness at the table would have better suited a painting than a group of very confused archival assistants. A blob of ketchup falls from the chip frozen halfway to Melanie’s mouth.

“You… married a ghost,” says Melanie, eventually, in a stilted, leading tone.

“Mhm,” says Jon.

A ghost story is something that can be so matrimonial, actually. Too bad Jon and Gerry didn't find that out until the wedding.

I ADORE THIS FIC. U KNOW THAT ONE JONGERRY LAS VEGAS WEDDING SHITPOST? IT’S THAT BUT SO MUCH MORE. GOD IT’S SO FUCKING HEARTBREAKING BUT ALSO HAS LIKE THESE COMEDIC MOMENTS THAT ARE JUST SO FUCKING GOOD. THE WAY THE WRITER WRITES THE JONGERRY DYNAMIC IS JUST. FUCK. IT’S AMAZING.

eager eye and willing ear by graveExcitement

Gerry investigates a paranormal mirror and is pulled into another universe, one where Jon has just burned his page.

i just. love this one. 

jongerrymartin

Ghosts without Graves by Ostentenacity

“I’m already dead, after all.” Gerry smiles, a mirthless flash of teeth. “If I pop out of existence tomorrow, fine. If I stick around for a while, well—at least now I’ve got someone to talk to.” His tone of voice is still blasé, but his gaze falls heavily on Jon, as though asking, Right?

“Yes,” says Jon. “Yes, of course.”

---

When Jon wakes up from his coma, he finds that while Gerry may still be dead, he’s not exactly gone.

i love this one so much. made me happy. made me sad. it’s just wonderful. 

jontim fics

Between Sleeping and Waking by voiceless_terror

So they curl up in his bed, an arm slung across Jon’s waist, his back to Tim’s chest. There are no spiders here, not in this bed that smells of dryer sheets and detergent and Tim. He’s almost asleep when the arm around his waist tightens suddenly.

“My brother always said the pressure helped. When he had bad dreams.”

Jon has nightmares and Tim attempts to chase them away. In the process, they learn a few things about each other.

the comfort. the understanding. it’s just so nice.

enemy of my enemy by beeclaws

Jon comes back from his time with the Circus a little worse for wear. Tim has some feelings about that.

it hurts so bad. but. fuck. the tim & jon somewhat fixing their relationship fic that i just really needed.

Tear Out All Your Tenderness by With_the_Wolves

"He’s been doing such a good job of ignoring it, up until now, pretending he didn’t know how he survived the Unknowing. Pretending he didn’t hear the constant rhythm of hunt hunt kill kill rushing through his veins in time with his blood. He didn’t used to be able to smell fear.

In the aftermath of the Coffin, Tim decides that he's going to be there for Jon. But Jon's fear is intoxicating.

THIS FIC! THIS FIC! JESUS CHRIST IT’S SO FUCKING PAINFUL. JUST. HOLY SHIT.

jonmartim fics

beautiful and annihilating by advantagetexas

But reality was a lot harsher than dreams. He admitted that to himself now, as he gently moved a piece of hair from Jon’s unblinking eye. Daisy Tonner was dead. Sasha James was dead. Daniel Stoker was still dead, or disappeared, or whatever woe begotten fate had befallen him at the hands of that wretched circus.

And here was Tim. Alive. And forced to deal with the fallout.

this fic <3 i love it very much. it’s updates are the highlight of my day. really fucks with my emotions. it’s just great.

[sea-side-scribbles]

Fanfiction: Sympathy For A Downer

link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22737214/chapters/83268982

Chapter 78 (FINAL)

In this comfortable position, Nick soon fell asleep. But he woke up early, a sign that he was still uneasy. By no means he wanted to oversleep the moment Arthur awoke. Quietly, he got up and went into the bathroom since he needed to knock himself into shape. A short shower later he already felt much better. He combed his stubborn hair as good as he could and submitted himself to a shave, sparing the moustache. It was still sparse, but he hoped it would have the desired effect. Together with Davey's fancy rags he felt more like Nick Lightbearer again.

Then he hurried into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. It wouldn't turn out sumptuous due to their shortage in supplies, but Nick did his best to make it delicious. Eyeing the table, he noticed that something was missing. Something that would make this special. When his searching gaze wandered to the window, he recalled that the front gardens were full of pretty flowers that no one paid attention to, so he went outside and took his pick. He decorated the table with a bright red bouquet and then viewed his own work with delight.

Shortly after, he heard Arthur call for him from upstairs: “Nick! Are you there? Nick?” He sounded upset. Nick liked it. Placing himself at the foot of the stairs, he purred his answer: “I'm right here, darling!” Arthur sighed in relief. At the same time, he felt stupid. Of course Nick wouldn't leave him like that. “Oh...good...”, he stuttered. “I won't be long...” “I'm waiting”, Nick purred back and strutted into the kitchen, cooler than he actually was. He had to calm himself down. When Arthur finally came down the stairs, he stunned Nick with his new outfit by Davey. It really suited him well. “Holy catfish! You look ravishing!” Nick kissed Arthur's hand. “You too...”, Arthur stammered. Nick smiled and skimmed along his upper lip. “You like it?” Arthur instinctively palpated the same spot. “Yes...” His voice was merely a sigh. He lifted up Nick's chin to kiss him. “Is it safe to assume that you're glad to see me?”, Nick asked with a voice as soft as silk. “Yes...”, was everything Arthur could produce.

Nick led him into the kitchen, where he gazed at the well-laid table. “Just sit down, my King. I serve you.” Arthur sat down wordlessly. “I like the flowers...”, he brought out later. “Thanks. I thought it's sad to keep them outside where we can't see them.” He put a mug in front of Arthur. “There you go, my darling.” “Nick, that's...” Nick looked at him, then at the table. “Anything missing?” Arthur almost laughed. “No...” He quickly stood up to lock Nick in his arms. “I really thought you...” He began to sob. “You won't get rid of me that easily, my King”, Nick said softly. “I don't want to get rid of you!”, Arthur sobbed. “I just want to protect you!” “I know. I feel the same”, Nick answered. “But how am I supposed to protect you if I'm not by your side? If you leave me here, you'll break my heart, you hear me? Don't do that!” Arthur pressed his eyes shut, fighting the tears. “I don't know what it is about me...why I'm running away from everyone...” “You lost your old life, too and you're still suffering. I understand. But let me comfort you. I think I made a good impact on you since we met.” “My sunshine...” Arthur smiled faintly.

They passed the time comforting each other. Soon, the town woke up and people became busy again. Also Arthur felt the need to do something. He was visibly fidgety. “Do you want to go back to your documents?”, Nick asked eyeing him. “I don't know...what would you do?” “Come along?” “This is gonna be too boring for you.” “Arthur!” “But it's true!” Nick pondered over it. “The boys said they want to see you.” “Me?” Arthur was surprised. “Yeah...If you like...They like you more than you think. It'll be fun.” “Not if we tell them our plan,” Arthur blurted out. “They need to know. Come on, seeing us like this, they can't help but have an understanding.” Arthur finally complied.

They met a few Wellies on the way, making it look almost like the town was intact again. “Is it still polite to say 'lovely day for it?', Nick asked one of them. “Could be worse”, the other man muttered. “That's true. Keep it bowling.” “You too.” “You know, I still have the feeling that we Wellies stick together”, Nick then said to Arthur. “You look like two Make Believes”, another man approached them. “What if I told you I'm Nick Lightbearer himself?”, Nick joked. “Gosh, Nick Lightbearer!”, the Wellie blurted out. “I wonder where he ended up.” “He's probably about to solve some problems...”, Nick assumed. “Yeah, probably. Good luck, you two.” Arthur was surprised how well he got along with people who would've slaughtered him a few days ago.

When they arrived in the backyard, Nick knocked at the worn out door, eyed by a curious Arthur. Brad opened it. “Ah, Nick, back in good shape, I see.” He slapped Nick's arm. “And Arthur...you look groovy, man.” “Thanks...I have the best supplier here...” He nodded into Nick's direction, who grinned. Brad let them inside. “Come in, get comfortable. The others will be back soon.” “What are they up to?”, Nick asked. “They went back to Maidenholm to fetch some of our stuff. Everything we can't get from the shop you looted.” “Hey, I only borrowed one guitar!” “Sure. You should put him on a leash, Arthur. It would save you a lot of trouble.” “I might think about it”, Arthur joked. “I'd have it's advantages”, Nick agreed. “Having to go wherever you go.” They laughed, but only Arthur and Nick understood the hint. “I suppose you're thirsty?”, Brad asked. “If you can spare something. I know we're low on supplies”, Nick said. “Alright, I'll go check. Make yourself at home.” They sat down on the couch. Nick didn't hesitate to place himself  close to Arthur. “Relax. Now everyone is a Downer, just like you”, he whispered to his tense lover. Arthur gave him a helpless smile.

Then they heard the back door open again. “He'll be all eyes if he sees what we brought along”, they heard Matt say. “Bradley-boy! Look what we got!”, Chris shouted playfully. Passing by the living room he found their guests. “Oh, hello.” “Made a hit?”, Nick asked. “Yeah, just look at all that! It was still there.” Chris unloaded his guitars and equipment. Matt joined him. Nick got up to have a closer look. “How's the state of the place?”, he asked quietly. “Sad”, Chris said in all honesty. “But intact.” He took a deep breath, eyeing his loot, or rather looking at what he saw in his mind. “In fact, we could...” He paused. “But it wouldn't be the same again, right?” “No...” Chris hung his head. Arthur got up too and positioned himself next to Nick. “Oh, Arthur!” Matt noticed him. “If we knew, we would've brought you a typewriter.” “It's fine”. Arthur had to grin at that. “I have one at home.” They shook hands. “Have you seen our drummer by any chance?”, Chris asked. “He went to fetch us a drink”, Nick explained. “You left him alone in the kitchen? Oh dear...” Chris went for him.

“There's still a lot of your stuff left”, Matt said to Nick with an apologizing look. “It's okay. I need to see this place myself anyway.” “By the way...You won't believe who we met there.” “Fans?” “No...Our dear friend Hunt.” “What?”, Nick blurted out. “Hunt? Did you tell him the latest news? “He knows, but he has a hard time letting go of his old post. He was happy to hear you're alive.” “Didn't you offer him to come with you?” “We did, but he said the Parade District isn't safe for Bobbies. He's kinda right...His body height and all...they'd recognise him immediately. Poor bugger.” “But...We can't...I can't leave him there. Arthur, would you go to my old home with me and help me with this?” He looked at his lover with puppy eyes. “If he agrees...” Arthur shrugged. “Thank you. For a Bobby he's a good sort.”

Soon, Brad and Chris came back with the liquids and some snacks. When they were comfortable again and the drinks were served, Chris said: “Well, let's begin with the brutally honest conversation, shall we? Seems to be the new trend.” “I can't believe it's finally over”, Arthur admitted. He felt like a remnant of the old days. Him. As a Downer. “Have you really been a Downer?”, Matt asked as if he could read his mind. Arthur was taken aback by the question at first, eyeing the band as if they'd jump at him. He figured that Nick must've told them. “It's weird to talk about it...just like that...It's weird I don't have to hide...” “How did you hold on?” “I had no choice”, Arthur said with a shrug. “I couldn't just walk out of Wellington Wells, with all the detectors and alarm systems. I had to sneak around, come up with ideas...Coming back here was hard enough, because they dumped me in the Garden District.” “What's so dangerous about the Garden?”, Brad asked. From what he heard in Uncle Jack's shows it was a rather idyllic place where they grew fruits and vegetables and had everything they needed. “Well...there you have the plaque, toxic fog, Ploughboys that love to smash a Downer's head, the other people who are also not very fond of you if you show up in a proper suit, soldiers with bayonets who take you for a Gerry and of course the spankers.” “And the food? Are there any farms there?” “None at all...the people live of what they get to steal from the guards.” “Shit...”

“Wow, you're definitely tougher than you look!”, Chris said. “No offence.” “None taken. I had a lot of luck.” “Aw come on, Arthur, what about the arena-fight you won?”, Nick replied. “Er, that...” Arthur blushed a little. “That was your amazing fighting skills! You should've seen him taking on that white Bobby!” “I had your help there!” Arthur reminded him. “It was still awesome!” “Sounds like you should write a story about yourself.” Brad was impressed. “Perhaps” Arthur grinned meekly. “But I wasn't the only one having problems. The people in the Garden District...those that made it until now...they have a story to tell. “Do they know?” Nick asked. “Did anybody tell them?” “We haven't heard of it”. Matt replied. “I don't think the General cares much for them”, Arthur said dryly. “Or he's still full of Joy.”, Matt added. “No. He doesn't take Joy. Our dear General is above that.” The others were stunned. “No Joy?” Brad asked. “Just like that?” “He's not the only one. Doctor Verloc doesn't take it either.” “Right, he didn't look like he'd take his own drugs. He was much too moody for that.”, Nick approved. Brad leaned back. “That's a bit thick.” “And we played along”, Chris said bitterly.

“But if they knew better than us, why did they let everyone starve?” Matt was upset. “Why did they let us die out?” “I don't know”, Arthur answered. “Perhaps Victoria Byng knows or she'll find out. She's on our side.” “I hope so”, Chris sighed. “Or else we're fucked.” “They can't make us take Joy again”, Brad said sternly. “I rather die in another fight than becoming their slave again!” “Perhaps more Wellies think like that...” Arthur dreamed out loud. “Oh, Arthur, we must look like absolute morons to you! We played along all this time!” Matt eyed the floor. “I wasn't any smarter, believe me. It was pure coincidence that I went off Joy and it could've happened to any of you.” Arthur actually wasn't reproachful for a reason he didn't really understand. “I'm not better than you.” “Well...I guess we can only wait now...”, Brad sighed. “Let's hope it won't backfire”, Chris said. “I don't want a new Committee that kills everyone who dares to smile.” “Don't you have a vivid fantasy!”, Nick blurted out. “Remember me to never let you tell me a bedtime story.” “I'll kill everyone who tries to suppress me.” Brad scowled. “If they dare...” “They can't do that again. They went too far.” Matt was determined now. “They can't prevent us from finding a way out, sooner or later”, Nick pointed out. “Many people are digging in the tunnel or looking for another way...and those who stay won't submit.” “In any case, not us!”, Chris decided. “No way!” Nick agreed. “I won't start now”, Arthur added. “I'm done with it, too”, Matt said. “I want to see them try”, Brad repeated. “We should drink to that!”, Nick cheered. They did with pleasure.

“Now let's dream a bit...”, Chris said some time later. “What if the tunnel opened one day? Where would you go?” Arthur's face fell. “I'll go to Germany...” “Arthur!” Chris shook his head as if he was talking to a stubborn child. “You have to go to France!  Paris! The city of love!” “Or how about the Maldives? Reputedly, people went there on holiday but most likely nobody of us had ever been there,” Matt proposed. “But islands again?” “Pretty islands.” “They remind me too much of this town. I want to go to a place I can easily leave when I have enough.” “So, the moon falls flat”, Brad deadpanned. Chris laughed. “That's not an option.” “How do you know?”, Matt asked. “Perhaps it's already settled and we're the last ones to notice!” Nick gave Arthur a pitiful look while the others were dreaming out loud.

“I have to find my brother...”, the former reporter said quietly. The others fell quiet. “Your brother is in Germany?” Chris had a suspicion. “He was in the train...There's at least ten places where he could have spent his childhood...I need to find him, even if it takes my whole life...” “So, your adventure continues?” Brad asked. “It's not over yet...”, Arthur muttered. “But this time he has me”, Nick announced, putting his arm around his lover and squeezing him. The room was silent for another second. “Well...that's odd...I almost got used to you again”, Chris said to Nick. “How do you plan to get there?”, Brad asked. Arthur and Nick looked at each other. “We don't have a plan yet”, Nick admitted. “We'll figure that out while finding a way off this island”, Arthur added. “Maybe we'll meet there some day...Germans might like music, too”. Nick smiled. “Sure. We become a marching band and learn yodelling...We'll be the greatest stars in Germany,” Chris joked. They laughed.

“Jokes aside, it's not too far away. We'll be close”, Brad stated. “You can visit us any time”, Nick said. “With pleasure, as soon as you moved into your estate on Lake Constance...”, Chris answered. “Not any sooner, eh? Spoilt snobs! I'm glad I don't have to put up with you anymore.” Nick crossed his arms. “Have fun with him, Arthur.” Once again, they laughed over the finality of their decision. Arthur had counted on them to try to change their mind, at least winning Nick over. Instead they had just accepted it. Also Nick hadn't hesitated to tell them his plan. The whole thing looked settled and still Arthur felt unwell.

“What will you do?” “Well...in all honesty...we don't know...or do you?” Brad passed the question to Matt and Chris. “I keep making plans and abandoning them again”, Chris said. “What's to plan anyway?” Matt found. “We don't know the world outside.” “We should collect a few informations before leaving”, Brad said. “We'll come up with something”, Chris assured Arthur. “Don't worry about us. We made a living here and we'll make it outside as well.” “Or we stay until we're filthy rich and go for a world tour”, Matt said. “Then we pick you up.” “I like that plan”, Nick agreed grinning. Arthur let himself get carried away and smiled too, but he was deep in thoughts. “At any rate, you're as stubborn as Nick.” “I take that as a compliment.” Chris laughed. Like this, they had an actually good time. Arthur hadn't had such honest and joyful company in the past few years, but he noticed how Nick and the band understood each other nearly without words. It made him wonder if he even had an equally close bond to Nick.

One time, Nick went into the kitchen to collect replenishments. Chris followed him and suddenly grabbed Nick by the shoulders. “Now you're leaving me, just when I begin to like you, you little bastard!”, he hissed and shook Nick slightly. “Make sure you become a star this time, so I don't have to come back to run the show for you!” Nick replied insistently. “Ah...that's what it's about...” “Exactly! Don't disappoint me, you hear me? Don't think I can't keep an eye on you just because I'm in another country!” Chris nodded. “You'll hear from me.” “I hope so”, Nick said less jokingly. “I'll miss you, little one...” “I'll send you postcards. In German.” “Great...So I can't even read them.” Nick pulled Chris into a short and tight embrace. “What's taking you so long? We're thirsty.” Brad came in. “There comes the gooseberry...” Chris let go and viewed Nick's face. “Any love bruises? No? Good...” “You cheaters!”, Brad shouted. “And Arthur sits right next door, I can't believe it!” Nick quickly backed away from his fellow guitarist. “You're silly, both of you”, he said pouting. “What did I do?” Chris played upset. “You're a bad kisser.” “You prick!” Chris lifted up his hand as if he wanted to slap him. Brad burst out in laughter. Then Matt and Arthur came in. “Don't drink it all alone, we have a guest!”, Matt shouted. When Arthur asked Nick what happened, he only shook his head. It made Arthur doubt their bond even more.

When they went home, Nick was still in a good mood, but it could've been the alcohol, too. “See, it all went well”, he said confidentially. “They're good chaps, they want nothing but our best.” Arthur wondered if Nick had drunk so much for a reason. "They are, but are you really ready to leave them?" "I am! I already told you!" Shortly after, Nick seemed to be sorry for his rough answer because he put an arm around Arhtur's shoulder and softly whispered: "Come, I'll show you something..."

Arthur asked himself if Nick should rather lay down and sober up, but he didn't want to ruin this for him. He let him lead out of town. When they approached the bridge, Arthur tought they'd go back to Hamlyn Village, but then Nick went straight to the handrail and climbed over it. Then he offered his hand for help. Arthur took it with pleasure. He soon understood why Nick brought him here. The place looked similar to their Garden District. It was a rawer landscape, with rocks spread over the meagre grass, but it still had it's magic. A glimpse of freedom that Arthur felt especially at the sight of the ocean. He remembered standing on Britannia Bridge and caught himself wishing he could show it to Nick. Being alone with him like this, enjoying the silence around them, only the rushing of the wind instead of the noise and hubbub that usually surrounded Nick, he suddenly had the feeling that they shared a closer bond that nobody else could break. Nick moved so casually within the silence as if he didn't need anything more. Here, Nick was just himself and seemed to be happy. Arthur noticed just now that he was still holding Nick's hand.

"It's a beautiful place", he said eventually. Nick gave him an eased smile. "I figured it'd be nice to have a moment for ourselves", he said quietly. "I like these moments." "Yeah, me too", Arthur answered just as quietly. Then he bit his lower lip, pondering if he should say what lay on the tip of his tongue. And how. "But would they be enough?", he then dared to ask. Nick didn't answer promptly. He seemed to think about it despite his current state. Arthur was glad that he took the question seriously.

"You know...looking back at my life, at everything that happened to me, everything I still see in my dreams..." Nick paused to gaze into the distance, slowly letting out the air as if he was letting go of a heavy weight. "I like the silence", he concluded and Arthur believed that he was feeling this way right now. "There's a lot I didn't tell you yet, Arthur", he went on and Arthur hung at his every word. His soft voice comforted him. "We spoke about my past with the band a couple of times but for your interviews I could only tell you the good things...I had good times, of course, and I don't want to forget any of them ever again. But in most situations I couldn't make my own decisions. I noticed it in the past few days when I was talking to the lads...I didn't know what was happening around me, I didn't look through other people's plans, I was tossed about by fate, I fell between the cracks...It was always loud around me, I barely had time to think about what happened and what I really wanted. I don't want to live like this anymore. I want to be aware of what I'm doing. I want to make my own decisions. I want to enjoy every minute, just like this very moment. It's gonna be a new start. You gifted me a new life and I want to live it." He said the last words insistently.

Arthur remembered how he found Nick. He had lost control over his life long ago and he had no greater wish than to get it back. It was fitting. "You could try to become famous by your own decisions", Arthur proposed. "I could, but like that I'd only repeat myself", Nick said calmly. "And how it ends, I know that too. I don't know if I want that again...so soon...And if it doesn't work out, I don't know if I can bear to see me fail...It's bringing up so many memories...I want to try something I can't compare myself to." Arthur let his gaze wander along the weathered rocks. "And if you don't like your new life?", he asked quietly. Nick looked at him. "Then I at least tried." Arthur gave a meek smile. He in turn had no greater wish than to take Nick with him, who supported him and cheered him up. But... "We won't be free", he replied. "We'd have to do all it takes to find Percy, no more, no less. We'll have a mission, so to say..." "We'll have a firm goal", Nick said. "A simple, understandable task. That's good." He nodded.

Why did Arthur feel like personificated chaos while Nick kept a clear head? Arthur's head was spinning. He noticed how Nick eyed him from the side. "What is it, Arthur? Tell me the truth. Do you want to leave me?" Arthur's expression was painful. "No, but..." "You think you don't deserve it", Nick said. "You think it's your fault, your problem and you have to go through with it on your own." Arthur almost winced. The analysis was scarily exact. "You showed me that I'm worth loving. Why can't I show you that you deserve to be happy? I want to comfort you when you're sad, I want to support you when you doubt yourself and I want to help you when you're in trouble. Let me do this, if you must, do it for my sake. I need you, Arthur." His green eyes lay on Arthur, who could barely stand the look. He began to shiver. "Nick, I also didn't tell you everything, but I'm afraid I must, or else I can't look into your eyes ever again." Nick fell quiet and waited. Arthur crossed his arms and turned away. "It's my fault that Percy was brought to Germany. He wasn't even on the list, but me...We went to the station together, he wanted to come along, just because he didn't want to abandon me. He was so trusting and didn't fear for himself..." Arthur gulped. "I posed as him....I acted as if I only went along to say goodbye to my younger brother...I made it back out like this, but I saw how they pushed him into the train...he called out for me...he was so afraid..." Arthur fought back tears. "Now I wish I was there..." He fell silent, sobbing and waiting for Nick's judgement.

“How old have you been?” Nick asked quietly. “Twelve....Still young enough for the train And Percy was one year older...” “You've been a child, Arthur.” “I knew exactly what I was doing!” Nick didn't say any more. He hugged him from behind and held him close. Arthur clung to Nick's arms. “Why are you doing this?”, he asked after a while, letting go and eyeing Nick meekly. “Aren't you upset?” “Just look at you”, Nick answered. “You're not a child anymore. The man who's standing in front of me now wouldn't do this.” “But it still happened...” “You changed”, Nick insisted. “If it wasn't for you I couldn't judge you in the first place.” Nick kissed his cheek. “I'm glad you're here.” “It's not about me, Nick! I have to find him! I should've never dragged you into this!” Arthur winded. “And what do you do if you find him?” “I'll think about that later.”

“Arthur...Percy isn't a child anymore...He's leading his own life by now...Who'll keep you company if you find him and suddenly lose your only purpose in life? Who'll give your life a new meaning?” Arthur hung his head. “And if he didn't make it?” “Also then”, Nick said without mercy. “Who'll comfort you?” Arthur struggled to hold back tears. He wondered how on earth he deserved such a stubborn and affectionate man at his side. He couldn't simply push him away. “Nick, if you don't like it anymore, if you believe you made a mistake, you can go! You can go anytime!” Nick put his hands back on Arthur's shoulders. “This is an offer I can accept...”, he said quietly. He ran his hands along his upper arms, making Arthur's body tingle at the sensation. With Nick, he just didn't feel like he'll end up as shark bait while Nick drank margaritas on a desert island. Nick wouldn't give up on him, search the entire ocean if he had to and take him back to his island. Arthur already felt like he was there. He leaned closer to Nick and for a long while nothing happened other than their extensive kissing. Then Nick sat down on the grass and looked up to Arthur, inviting. “Here? Now?”, Arthur hissed. Nick took his hand and pulled him down.

Lying in the grass, Arthur found his body covered in kisses. Nick was eager to spoil every spot of him. Arthur's cheeks were salty from the tears he had shed, but Nick kissed them all away. Arthur winded giggling and gasping. His body tickled and his heart fluttered. The grass was cold, so was the air, but Nick's love bites warmed him. When his heated blood pounded in his veins, he pressed Nick down. He adored the soft foam that was growing along his upper lip, that would soon be a full Lightbearer moustache, and caressed it with his lips, before he placed a craving kiss on it. He wasn't shy with his tongue anymore. He wasn't shy with almost anything, causing Nick emit a noise that sounded like a purr. Then it was time for Arthur to redden Nick's skin with his teeth. Nick gasped, running his hands along Arthur's tights. Arthur bit him gently, his tongue massaged the sour spots right after. Arthur thanked him with every kiss, every gesture, overwhelmed by the promise he had just made.

Nick was so happy, he felt butterflies all over his body and his heart was about to jump out of his chest. He adored to see his Arthur in action and was looking forward to many, many more moments like this. With pleasure he felt Arthur expose him and skim along his lower back without shame. Nick moaned just as shamelessly when he felt Arthur shove a finger inside him. His body shivered, he pressed himself against it, begging Arthur to massage him. His blood was pounding in the right spot as his lover went along.  Aroused like this, Arthur felt ready. He held Nick close while his thrusts massaged him more. Nick's quiet whimpers were music to his ears. Arthur climaxed quietly, with his hands curled into Nick's hair and his head pressed against his chest. He relaxed like that for a while, receiving kisses on his head from Nick. Then he began to feel the chill on his naked skin and decided to put his clothes back on. Nick followed him shortly after.

They walked home slowly and peacefully, with their arms wrapped around each other, holding themselves as if the could barely stand. At the bridge, Arthur promptly lifted Nick up and carried him over the rail. Nick's expression after putting him back down was priceless. In town they walked next to each other as if they were friends, but if someone had paid attention to their looks they would've known better. At home, they both had a hot bath before they put themselves to bed.

The next day, Arthur didn't intent to wake Nick up early. His lover was most likely exhausted after everything he had been trough. Arthur himself was tired as well. The day wasn't quite inviting either, being cloudy and dark. The drizzle moistened the windows with tiny drops. It was the perfect weather to stay inside, have a hot chocolate and relax. But Arthur was still restless. He didn't feel well, just sitting around and hoping for the best. He was used to nothing good happening as long as he didn't do it himself. That was why he sat at his kitchen table, absorbed in his thoughts and forgetting to drink his coffee. The house was so quiet he could hear the clock ticking that hang on the wall next to the fridge. The radio had stopped playing the happy jingle that would normally start every day in Wellington Wells. He could just as well bin it, but he hesitated to change anything in this house. To make himself comfortable in it. After all, it was supposed to be only a stopover before they would go on their journey. But to make it that, he had to do something. After Arthur had walked back an forth in between the kitchen and the living room for a while, he couldn't bear it any longer. He wrote a letter to Nick and put it next to him on his pillow. He hoped to be back before his long sleeper woke up. Then he put on his coat, opened the brolly with the colourful pattern and went outside.

Nick woke up much later, feeling cosy, lolling and stretching out. He was completely refreshed. He remained in the bed a little while longer after noticing that Arthur had already gotten up, listening if he could hear him downstairs. It was very quiet. No footsteps, no clanking of the dishes, only the silent pattering of raindrops on the window. Nick sat up, thereby noticing the letter.

Nick darling, I'm on the move again. I need to make sure we're getting out of here. Don't worry about me and take a rest. I'll be back soon. I love you! Arthur

Nick stared at it. It sounded loving, of course, and not if Arthur had had any bad intentions. Still, it bothered him. Nick was sure that he couldn't expect Arthur to wait for him to awake from his sleeping beauty sleep, and Nick had been really tired, he admitted that. Still...why couldn't they go together? Was it really too necessary to wait? Did Arthur fear that Nick would spoil it? Or be bored? Nick rumpled the paper and let it fall on the table. What are you doing to me, Arthur?, he thought sadly. Then he told himself he should trust him. That he had a good reason to do it. That there'll be a good explanation for all this. He sighed. However, he was alone now. Take a rest. How was he supposed to relax while Arthur was out there facing who knows what? He just had to play the hero again.

Nick left the bed. He couldn't sit around and wait anyway. He needed a distraction and perhaps he could even do something useful as well. On the way downstairs he remembered Hunt. Of course, his Bobby, who in a way was also his friend. If Arthur couldn't help him, he had to do it on his own. He couldn't leave poor Hunt to rot in his old home. He left a note for Arthur and went into the cold and moistly weather.

This time he went to the bridge to actually cross it. He knew the way by heart, still it felt strange. Walking by the counter where normally a Constable would control the passports, he found it empty. He went along the bridge all alone, then Maidenholm greeted him in all it's silence. It looked like a ghost-town.  Nobody had cleaned up this place. Old newspapers lay in puddles or flew by in the wind. He saw rats gathering the leftovers from the pantries of the houses. The gardens were abandoned, all windows closed. In his best days, Nick had known every face in his district. A few of them had been in the church. He could only guess where the rest had ended up. How many of them had been chased into the Garden District, without him noticing? The rainbow-coloured road looked more pale than he remembered. All houses had been more colourful as well. Did he only imagine this? Still, the town could be beautiful. Perhaps this place would be populated again. He would definitely bring it up next time he was in the church.

His own home after all occurred dusky and not very welcoming to him, even though he had liked visitors in the old days. The red carpet was greasy. The former bright red was vaguely perceptible. Nick made a few steps until he noticed that someone sat in front of the door, cowering and visibly sleeping. Under the canopy he was protected from the rain, but still it must be cold and uncomfortable. The uniform definitely had seen better days. He had taken off his helmet and the blonde hair told Nick that it was indeed Hunt.

“Hunt?”, Nick tried. When the man didn't answer, Nick grabbed his shoulder and shook him a bit. The man finally awoke with a grunting noise and then looked around frantically. He seemed to back away from Nick, even though his body was already pressed against the door. “Don't worry, it's just me, Nick”, Nick reasoned with him. “The band told me you're here.” “Nick?”, Hunt stammered. “Mr. Lightbearer?” His eyes widened and he went back up on his feet. He grabbed his arm tightly, so that it stung. “I'm so happy to see you alive!” “You know, a cat has nine lives...”, Nick played it down, massaging his arm. “What are you doing here?” “Er...well...” He shrugged. “I don't really have another place to go...I'm lucky enough, escaping the Parade and all...Here, it's a safer place for the likes of me.” “Perhaps the Parade calmed down. People stopped fighting and they have other worries now.” “Yeah, Mr. Reid told me something like that, too. You know, it's different with the other Wellies. They didn't know what they did...” “You neither.” “Blackberry Joy isn't the same as normal Joy. It doesn't make you forget...We had to keep a clear head. Who else could push through law and order?”, Hunt admitted contritely, leaning against the door and hiding his face. “I knew and I only watched...” “You couldn't stop that easily”, Nick opposed. Hunt gave another shrug and made a helpless sound. “You only guarded my house!”, Nick said with emphasis. “Yeah...after working night shifts for a long time...I can't get the bloody jingle of the Jubliators out of my head...” Nick understood how he felt. “You don't have to torture yourself though. Go inside and warm up.” “My place is out here.” “From now on you have a larger field! Go inside and warm up, that's an order!” He raised a smile from the taller man. “Well...won't do any harm...”

Nick followed him inside. “Oh”, he noticed. “We should let some air in...” “Aye, sir.” “Has it always been that dusty?” Nick remembered that his last charlady had given up months ago. Besides that, everything looked the same. Nick ascended the stairs to his bedroom and looked inside. The same as always. Nick was suddenly undecided about what he intended to do here. He gave his golden records a wistful look. He'd miss them probably. But what use would they be in Germany? Then he recalled something else that was located in this floor. Back in the corridor, he opened a door to a smaller bedroom. It took a lot of effort to go inside. Too many memories were collected here, shattered dreams and pain. But also one memory he wanted to keep. He went to the desk and lifted up the little frame, not without looking at the photo as well. Arthur would allow it, right? It was his past after all. Nick put the frame into his pocket and left the room with a heavy heart. Before he closed the door, he hesitated. He felt like Morrie had called out for him. But that was impossible. Surely, it was only a plank that had creaked. He finally closed the door. In the second floor he found his iconic blue guitar and shouldered it. Then he had everything he wanted.

Back downstairs, he found his Constable sitting at the kitchen table in a sunken down position. The window was open. The look Hunt gave him made Nick ask: “Do you really want to stay here?” “I want the old days back, when this place was full of life.” “Now the Parade is where the action is. You could try to find a new home there. I can help you.” “And I could guard you...on you way back...yeah, I could do that...” The tall man stood up and closed the window. Nick was pleased with himself. Stepping outside, he took a deep breath, waiting for the Bobby. Hunt locked the door when he went out. Nick asked himself if anyone would loot this house. If so, they'd probably look for food. Who would still care about Nick's underwear?

Walking through Maidenholm, the district was as empty as it had been before. No one crossed their path. To the empty counter Hunt said: “Ah, Constable Johnson...well...He's always been kind of an arse...I guess he had it coming...” “He could be in the Parade”, Nick replied. “Maybe...”, Hunt said less optimistically. In the Parade District however they met multiple Wellies and received their mistrust. “Where do you think you're going?” Nick placed himself in front of Hunt. “We can go wherever we like. Did you forget?” “That doesn't apply for his kind”, the Wellie glared at Hunt. “He's clearly a Bobby! He doesn't even try to hide it!” “We don't want any Bobbies here!”, another man approached them. “And also no friends them!”

“You don't have to be afraid of him”, Nick persisted. “Hunt did no more than guarding my home for years. He's a good guy.” “Guarding your home?” The Wellie spit on the cobblestone. “That's neat. Must've been some big shot to afford this. Maybe Executive Committee?” “No, I'm not that relevant. I only lived in Maidenholm.” “So what? That doesn't prove anything! Your Bobby is making you suspicious!” “I never had any power! I'm just a musician!” For the first time they took notice of his outfit “You're a Nick Lightbearer lookalike?” “No, I'm Nick Lightbearer himself.” That made them fall quiet for a second. “Nick Lightbearer, eh? The one who distracted us with jolly tunes while we were starving?” “Who told us to take Joy with his songs?” “Who led us to believe everything was right as rain?” The Wellies came closer, not any less angry than before. More joined them. Hunt gave Nick a questioning look, but Nick shook his head. “I didn't know better than you! I took Joy just like all of you! What was wrong about cheering you up? That's what I always wanted, long before  we started to take Joy! I never meant to force you into anything and as long as some of you like my music, I'll play it!” “Nick Lightbearer?”, another Wellie shouted. “That's Nick Lightbearer?” More Wellies came and the atmosphere shifted drastically. Suddenly, the thugs were outnumbered. “Alright, you won for now. But if we catch your Bobby red-handed...”, one of them implied before he took to his heels. “Nicky! Sing a song for us! We love you, Nick!” Hunt looked at him again. “Are we running now?”

Nick agreed and soon they ended up far away from the bridge. They escaped the fans and carefully made their way to the alley of the Make Believes. “I'd like to take you to my place, Hunt, but it's too close to the main road. We better hide in the band's house for now.” “So, you split up again?” “We're still friends. It's just...I'm living with Arthur now. You remember him?” Hunt didn't have to think for long. “The friendly reporter?” “Yes, him.” “Would he want a Bobby close-by?” “He doesn't have much of a choice, now that my fans know I'm alive”, he joked. “Chin up, you're a good chap, believe it or not.”

Brad answered the door again. “Hey, uh...could we hide in your house for a while?” Nick pointed at his company. Brad understood. Inside, he asked: “How bad is it?” Hunt and Nick eyed each other. “It's me...I got recognised...” Nick scratched his head. Promptly, someone knocked at the door. Nick and Hunt winced. Brad set himself into motion again. He was surprised to find a complete stranger outside. “I'm sorry...May I speak to Mr. Lightbearer? I really need to see him!” “I'm sorry too, here's no Mr. Lightbearer!” Brad slammed the door shut. “How many followed you?”, he shouted walking back to Nick. “Nobody”, Nick said meekly. “I can confirm that, Mr. Wilson! Nobody escapes my eager eyes. This fan eluded me!” “Brad?”, they heard Matt's voice. He came running down the stairs. “Brad? Have you seen the crowd in our front garden?” He came into the living room and found Nick and Hunt being abashed. “Oh, no! Are they after you, Hunt?” Brad crossed his arms. “They want Nick.” Matt looked at the still famous enough star who smiled helplessly. Outside, the crowd began to call for their idol. It wasn't long until Chris ran into the room. “What makes them think Nick is here?” Then his gaze fell on Nick and drew the conclusion. “Why am I not surprised?” “We should've been more cautious about his outfit”, Brad commented. The Wellies began to knock at the door again. “Nick! Sing a song for us!”

“Should we wait until they bugger off?” Matt wasn't convinced himself. “I can go, then you're free”, Nick offered. “They'll tear you apart!”, Brad shouted. “Why not?”, Chris muttered. Brad gave him a look. Chris ignored it and approached Nick. “If they want a spontaneous show, why not giving them one?” “Can we?” Nick asked without hesitation. It seemed to be the easiest way out. “Yeah, we got everything from your house.” “And how do we keep them from breaking in to see us?” Matt wanted to know. Chris thought about it. “We have a flat roof we can access...people could see us there.” “Is that safe?”, Hunt asked. “I'm not excited about fighting off the poor sods who climb up the walls.” “It's quite high. Nobody should climb up there”, Brad mused. “So, it's settled?”, Chris asked. “Hell, yeah!”, Nick shouted. They hurried while Hunt locked all doors and windows. When the band finally arrived at the roof the crowd went wild. “Did anybody see my Joy?”, Nick asked, seemingly nervous. The others stared at him. “I'm kidding.” Nick grinned Their first song rang out in the entire district.

Arthur couldn't express how he felt when finally the light came through. The dark tunnel that had occurred to him as if it lay hundreds of miles below ground level, an unscalable prison for every Skipper, suddenly lit up. Little fluffs danced in the air, glittering like diamonds. For a while it was silent. The rain had stopped and in the bright blue sky above them they saw fluffy white clouds pass by. Then the noise broke loose. The workers cheered, danced, cried out their relief. It was infectuous. Arthur had to laugh too, patting other Wellie's shoulders. They made it! Finally! He could see the fatigue of multiple sleepless nights in their eyes. It had been worth it.

Arthur slowly progressed, walking by the celebrating Wellies, but as soon as he was alone again, he ran as fast as he could, following the rails. He climbed out of the ravine and abruptly came to a halt. The whole town was emptied. He had feared that a crowd would scramble for the tunnel, but no one had noticed. From afar, he heard music that, after a further analysis, couldn't come from a radio. Was that...? Arthur's heart pounded after running and climbing. Or was it because of the music? He followed it and after a while, he met Wellies walking into the same direction. “Oh, no...” The crowd was getting bigger. They were all here, looking up for some reason. Further away, on a roof, Arthur recognised Nick. He was back in his element. Without Joy. Arthur was proud of him, but he also felt melancholic. Did it change everything?

Arthur wanted to reach him before anyone else noticed that the tunnel was open, but his gaze wandered helplessly along the masses. It was impossible to get through there. And then he couldn't simply walk through the door without letting everyone in. But wait...wasn't that the same house...? Sure, why would they carry their instruments any further? Arthur went a devious route, always watching out for fans, until he arrived in the backyard. But of course the door was locked. At first he knocked, but as expected, nothing happened. Who was supposed to hear it anyway? Desperately, he hammered against the door, fearing to alarm the whole district. “It's me, Arthur! Let me in!” When he felt ridiculous already, someone actually opened. It was a very tall man. The white shirt and blue trousers seemed to be the remnants of a uniform. “Arthur? Mr. Hastings?” Arthur gasped. “C...Constable Hunt?” The old escape reflex kicked in, but Hunt grabbed in and pulled him inside. Then he looked the door again, securing it with a chain around the handle and a dresser shoved in front of it. “I need to see Nick...” He felt the need to explain. “Go ahead, he's on the roof.”

Arthur ran upstairs. His heart was still pounding. When he heard that they had just finished a song, he went outside. Carefully avoiding the cables, he made his way to Nick who was talking to the other guitarists. Arthur put a hand on his shoulder, making Nick wince and turn around. Arthur's expression alarmed him, so he put the guitar down and followed him back inside. Nick waited for him to speak, so Arthur blurted out: “The tunnel is open!” “Wha...really?” Nick began to beam. “You made it?” “Come, I show you”, Arthur said. Or was it more likely a question? “You want to leave now?” Nick looked startled. “No, only show you, before they realise it and the place gets crowded.” Arthur's eyes begged. It seemed like Nick would only reluctantly go. Arthur prepared for a refusal when Nick said: “Okay. Just let me give the word.” With that, he went to talk to the band, but came back shortly after with an expectant look. Arthur was looking forward to leave this noisy place and he was even happier that Nick went with him. They sneaked out of the backyard after Hunt had opened up for them and went another devious route, hiding and watching. “This is like the old days”, Nick whispered gleefully.

Like this, they reached the ravine and climbed inside. Nick had never thought they'd conquer this again. From the bottom up it looked less intimidating. When they went into the tunnel, Nick began to feel a little queasy, watching the ceiling as if it could collapse any second. Arthur noticed and took his hand. Nick gave him a thankful look, then they went on. Nick's footsteps were more determined now. He was also surprised when the tunnel lit up and couldn't avert his gaze from the beams of sunlight breaking through. He stared at the sky just as stunned as Arthur had been, at least he found that there was a certain resemblance. But this time, Arthur took the first steps towards the light. He still held Nick, who cautiously climbed after him. Back outside, also Arthur was overwhelmed. The horizon was bright and clear. He could look much further than before. The land that had been purely black and vaguely shaped, now exposed a coastal cliff, meadows and forests. The bridge went all the way to there, it's end vanished somewhere in the distance.

“Wow!”, Nick produced. “This is the mainland? Just like that?” He pointed at the horizon. Arthur nodded. “And you wanted to go all the way on foot?” Nick pointed at the bridge and grinned. Arthur had to grin, too. He went a few steps with Nick, until they were surrounded by nothing but the ocean. Arthur rested his elbows on the handrail and Nick did the same. “Do you smell that? No Motilene, no chemical waste...” Arthur took a deep breath. Nick closed his eyes and breathed in as well. “This is the real world, huh?”, he asked after enjoying the fresh air. “Yeah...a part of it...” “Can't wait to see more...”, Nick whispered. Arthur was happy to hear that. He beamed at Nick. “And from here you came back to me?” Nick turned around, leaning his back against the rail in a nonchalant manner. The wind had already ruffled his hair. Arthur would've loved to take a photo of him now. “Yeah...”, Arthur felt flattered. “It must've been hard for you.” “Actually, it wasn't...I couldn't leave you like that...” “You have a way of disappearing and coming back...” Arthur smiled helplessly, clutching the rail.

Nick eyed the stony floor, pondering. “Arthur...”, he then said. His tone alarmed Arthur. “Why did you leave me this morning?” Nick gave him an urgent look. Arthur stared at the horizon. “Because...because I had to do this alone...” “You wanted to punish yourself again?” “No...You were tired...You needed to rest and I didn't plan to be gone for long...Then one thing led to another and...I'm sorry...” “So you wanted to protect me?” “Yeah...” “Why?” “Just look at you!”, Arthur shouted desperately. “I can't let anything happen to you!” “You put yourself in danger?” Nick became louder. “No!”, Arthur quickly replied. “Well...not more than usual...Nick, I have to put myself in danger every day! Me and...others to....But you...I can't let anything happen to you...”

“Arthur, this is over! You're not a Downer anymore, nobody's chasing you for what you are and you're not alone! I understand that you're used to this, but we have to move on! I'm not a spoiled rockstar you have to spare! I'm your partner! You hurt me when you run off all alone! The tunnel could've collapsed! Your old boss could've changed her mind and kidnapped you! And I wouldn't know where you are! How could you do this to me?” Arthur couldn't come up with a good answer. “The worst you can do to me is disappearing, you hear me? If you put yourself in danger, I want to be at your side! I want to know where you're going if we really have to split up!” Nick had shouted the last words. He was really upset. Arthur hadn't seen him so angry before. “I'm sorry, Nick...I didn't think about it this way...I just had to do something...I'm sorry, please don't tell me I fucked this up...” Arthur was at the edge of tears. Nick promptly embraced him, noticing how much he needed it himself. “Ssshh...don't panic...I still love you...” They held still like this and and slowly calmed down.

“Don't do it again, okay?”, Nick said quietly. “Okay...I promise...”, Arthur whispered meekly. “It's hard not to see you as a star...” “But you've seen my real self...” Nick recalled something. “It's the name, right?” His face fell. “I know your name isn't 'Lightbearer'”, Arthur disagreed. His partner averted his gaze. “But it's also not 'Nick'.” Arthur was really taken aback. It felt so natural to call him 'Nick'. No other name seemed to fit. He even looked like a 'Nick'. “I never meant to keep it a secret. You have the right to know the truth, but there never was a fitting moment...” He faced Arthur again. “My name is Norbert. Norbert...Pickles...If you need to laugh, just do it...” Nick crossed his arms, dropped his gaze and waited. Arthur wouldn't be the first. Some people knew his name, from gossip or any other source. Their reaction was mostly the same. “I don't know why I should laugh...It's just a name.” Arthur came closer. “It never bothered me...But after years of being The Lightbearer...”, Nick explained and shook his head. “It's hard to look at it the same way again.” He looked back up to his lover. “You don't have to use it...But you can...Just do as you like...” Arthur felt that he'd need a while to get used to it. Still, he felt that the other man had just tightened their bond. “Thank you for telling me the truth...Even thought you're still 'Nick' to me...” “Thanks for not laughing.” Nick smiled his adorable smile. Arthur cupped his cheeks and kissed his hair.

They enjoyed their moment some more before they started back. Arthur was glad not to meet anyone yet. Back in town, they still heard The Make Believes perform. “Good idea...that concert...people love it”, Arthur stuttered. “We didn't really have a choice.” Nick chuckled. “It doesn't change anything?” Arthur eyed him carefully. “Nothing at all”, Nick confirmed. They silenced, listening. “Do you want to finish it?”, Arthur asked. “If you agree?” Nick didn't urge him. Arthur smiled meekly. “Just go for it, my Golden God.” He gave him a slap on the lower back. “I'll take care of you when you come home.” Nick beamed and ruffled Arthur's hair. “Until then, my tall boy.” After a passionate kiss, Nick hurried to join his band.

Arthur stayed outside for a while, watching Nick proudly, then he obeyed his tired body and went home. There he prepared for his journey, at least emotionally. He realized that not only Nick left his old life here, but also himself and he looked for something  to keep. After deciding for the medal that he had brought from his former hideout and the documents about Percy he had to keep anyway, he put the few objects on his night table and lay down on his bed. A few moments later he dropped off.

Nick was excited. The noise of their last song was still ringing in his ears. The last applause had doped him. And now this! He had to tell Arthur! His rash footsteps echoed in the night, but he wasn't afraid. The show had ended long ago and the fans had gone back home. Out of breath, he reached Arthur's home and hurried into the corridor. There, the light was out. “Arthur?” He flicked it back on. Nick assumed his lover was already in bed. He ran up the stairs. Also the upper floor was dark. In the second floor, the light went on and a sleepy Arthur appeared at the stairs. “Nick, is that you?” Nick stormed up the stairs and span his lover around who yelped adorably. “Pack up your things, my King! We're going to Germany!”, he shouted and kissed Arthur wildly. Greeted like that, Arthur had to catch his breath. “Nicky, I'm glad you're so motivated.  No need to exaggerate though, it's not going to be a fun journey”, he said but laughed nonetheless. “Oh, yes, it is! I know how we get there!” “Really?” Arthur's eyed widened. “You better sit down.” Nick shoved him back into his bedroom and placed him on the bed. Arthur stared at him while Nick shortly searched for words.

“After we told the boys our plan, they went looking for opportunities. They met Birdie today who has a similar problem.  Her manager is looking for ways out of here and you won't believe what he found out! Germans actually love beat music and he's already in contact with a club there! He'll organise it all...the journey...the night stop...Isn't that fantastic?” Arthur was overwhelmed once more. Their whole impossible, lonely journey, suddenly simplified? On the one hand, he was fascinated about how fast Nick came up with a solution. It was another reason to have him at his side. On the other hand, it had an unpleasant connotation.

Arthur's silence worried Nick. “What's wrong?” His lover made a pained face. “So, you'll stay with the band...” “No, you got me wrong.” Nick sat down next to him. “I'll stay with you.” “How is this going to work?” “We're travelling with the band, because it's the easiest way out. Also, we'll need money and a place to sleep. And then...” Nick shrugged. “The rest is our adventure.” Arthur pondered. “Come on, is it easier to find Percy completely without resources or help?” Nick tried a joke. “What if he'll become a fan?” Arthur had to grin even though he doubted it. “And what if you don't want the silence anymore?” “You mean, if I don't want you anymore?” Nick leaned closer and tenderly kissed Arthur's cheek. “Then I must be the biggest dumbass in the world,” he whispered close to his ear. Arthur's resistance melted away. He accepted another loving kiss from Nick.

They had a very emotional night, dwelling in dreams and wishes. They slept together and then left the house for a night walk. It was the greatest conquest of their new freedom that they could enjoy the night without fear, at least that's what Nick thought. Also Arthur appeared to be ravished by the starry sky. “It's really pretty”, he sighed. “Everything is pretty as long as you're by my side”, Nick purred, rubbing his cheek against his shoulder. “Yeah...” Arthur had to chuckle. “Alright, I believe you!...you won...! I believe you!” “Finally!” Nick shouted out loud. He went a few steps forward, spread his arms and yelled: “My man believes I love him!” “Sssshh!”, Arthur hissed and laughed. “You're crazy...” “Yes, I am”, Nick confirmed. “But happy.” He fell back into Arthur's arms. “Me too...”, Arthur said and hugged him tightly. “Me too...” They stayed outside until sunrise.

[ceescedasticity]

a terrible, terrible idea I will not be finishing

TMA SBURB session scenario

The setup is that somehow, one of the current main character survivors finds out about SBURB, and comes up with an outlandish plan to force a session and drag the fears into the Incipisphere, thus leaving Earth to return to its original state. Pretend this is a feasible plan. Pretend it comes with a good plan to keep the Reckoning from destroying Earth immediately after it's restored.

The fears aren't going to be naturally inclined to go to the Incipisphere. It has a very low population — I'd be surprised if carapacians and consorts together topped a hundred thousand, though if you count underlings that's probably at least doubled — and even setting that aside some fears are just not well-represented. It's a very sterile place. So, the plan is to fill the "player" positions with people who can provide anchors for the fears and drag them into the Incipisphere, too. Pretend this makes sense.

(That puts us at over twelve players in a session, so I'll be using some original classes and aspects.)

The necessary qualifications for "players" are that they (1) are well-marked but not overwhelmed, (2) can be convinced to cooperate, and (3) are… accessible. Obviously live people are most accessible, but most live people are either overwhelmed and most of the rest are Avatars who are… actually they could also be described as overwhelmed, just in a different way. And the Incipisphere does have that little "dreamself" mechanism, so if they (read: Jon) have a sufficient... trace on a person (read: direct statement, Archive contract, accumulation of indirect statements, or some weird stuff), they can toss them straight into their dreamself, thus reviving them, possibly closer to human than they were before. (Or possibly creating a functionally identical copy. Hopefully no one asks.) Pretend this makes sense, too.

(They didn't attempt to exert any control over which moon people got, or which 'role'.)

Also benefiting from a dreamself: Jon, who barely survived the gross overextension of his powers figuring out how to do this and pulling in the "players" but just dropped upon entering the actual Incipisphere. He's now definitely in pre-coma condition and possibly even more regressed; he's been too disoriented to do much experimenting.

Melanie agreed to be the primary anchor for Slaughter because it's one of the stronger fears in the Incipisphere (the Battlefield and Prospit-Derse war in general mean the carapacians tend to be a good source for it) so they need someone trustworthy in the position. She's monitoring herself VERY carefully. She's also a secondary anchor for Beholding, but there's not any shortage there anyway. Her role according to the Incipisphere is Mage of Breath, Prospit dreamer, Land of Reeds and Whistles.

Georgie can't really anchor anything but End. Which is fine because it's also a fear native to the Incipisphere, and the only one that's a conceivable flight risk since the horrorterrors aren't afraid of anything else. Her mythological role is Sylph of Time, Derse dreamer, Land of Knells and Echoes.

Martin is the primary anchor for the Extinction, which may be a bit player as far as the entities are concerned but which is deeply engraved in the Incipisphere what with the Reckoning and everything. He's a secondary anchor for the Lonely as well as Beholding. His role is Rogue of Blood, Prospit dreamer, Land of Smoke and Craters.

Jon is the primary anchor for Beholding and a secondary anchor for pretty much everything else. (Beholding isn't a major concern for the Incipisphere's natives, but it's a potential issue for players, depending on their awareness.) He hasn't been needing statements, which he hopes is because he's regressed past the need for them, but which is actually because his Aspect is standing in for them. His role is Prince of Light, Prospit dreamer, Land of Sand and Searchlights.

Basira is the primary anchor for the Dark (since Beholding is taken). It's of middling strength, more than Beholding but much less than Slaughter or End; you get some Prospitians and consorts scared of the dark, but usually it's the least of everyone's worries. Her role is Maid of Mind, Prospit dreamer, Land of Pitch and Frames.

Annabelle Cane probably would agree to participate, but no one trusts either her or their own ability to manage her. Mikaele Salesa wouldn't want to interrupt his retirement, and if coerced he might sabotage things. Uh… that Jordan Kennedy ECDC fellow still seemed to have his head on fairly straight, right? He can anchor Corruption. (All of Corruption's strength in the Incipisphere is built on Dersite revulsion for amphibians.) His role is Page of Fire, Derse dreamer, Land of Toads and Hellbenders. (Did I mention how reliant Corruption is on Dersites and amphibians just now.)

At this point we have exhausted our living candidates. So: cast some dead people as players, force their dreamselves to form, maybe give them a nightmare about the post-Change world so they understand what's at stake, and wake them up.

The remaining fears that are really seriously strong in the Incipisphere are the Hunt (players hunt underlings hunt consorts) and the Desolation (meteors and RED MILES).

The Hunt goes to Daisy, who has been rebooted to mostly human in her dreamself and is unsurprisingly very shaken up about everything, but at least she knew about the Change (though she doesn't remember clearly). She's a secondary anchor for both Buried and Beholding. Her role is Haunt of Heart, Prospit dreamer, Land of Tracks and Traces.

Desolation goes to Tim, who is... not thrilled to be alive and conscripted again. He's somewhat mollified by it at least DEFINITELY not being more of the SAME bullshit. He's a secondary anchor for Beholding and Stranger. His role is Heir of Rage, Prospit dreamer, Land of Stone and Ashes. (He really likes the sound of Heir of Rage but isn't about to admit it.)

Stranger goes to Sasha, who is having an odd time of it. A lot of the background information everyone else knows already is new to her, and bringing her up to speed is extra work, but Jon and Martin were feeling sentimental and everyone agreed she'd be a stabilizing influence on Tim. She has MOST of her memories. People have MOST of their memories of her. (The Stranger isn't particularly strong in the Incipisphere because the locals are predisposed to accept any kind of weirdness from players without being bothered. Everything is familiar to them, no matter how strange it should seem.) She's a secondary anchor for Beholding and Spiral. Sasha's role is Clerk of Doom, Prospit dreamer, Land of Masks and Music.

Since the game prefers an even number of players, and it's already established the fourteen/fifteen don't REALLY cover everything, it's more complicated than that, maybe include an anchor for 'Unclassifiable'. Give that one to Gerry. (Jon can't decide whether he should feel guilty about this; Gerry wanted an end, but this definitely isn't life as a book.) (For his part Gerry is in 'this might as well happen' mode.) Gerry's role is Knight of Grief, Derse dreamer, Land of Tomes and Boxes.

The Incipisphere's natives aren't automatically AWARE of being steered, but they are; players always have their options restricted by alpha timeline bullshit; this particular group of players mostly got thrown into it without asking them so may be even more aware of their lack of control. All of which is to say the Web is not particularly weak and they need a trustworthy anchor. They settled on Gertrude and still aren't sure whether it was a good idea. What she thinks of it she isn't saying. Her role is Seer of Space, Prospit dreamer, Land of Webs and Frogs.

To everyone's surprise, Gertrude apparently came with a bonus Agnes. Possibly because they were leaning on her Web connections? Who knows? They set her to anchor Lonely, because even though she never had room for any marks but Desolation before she was definitely lowercase-L lonely. Agnes's role is Witch of Void, Derse dreamer, Land of Smog and Drizzle.

(At this point someone finally figures out lunar alignment is apparently being determined by whether someone has ever signed a contract with the Archives.)

The Vast goes to Adelard Dekker. Vast isn't among the strongest of the entities in the Incipisphere, but there's space involved and theoretically an entire universe, so it has definite potential and needs to be anchored by someone who won't go out of control with it. Adelard's role is Count of Hope, Derse dreamer, Land of Stars and Stairs.

That just leaves Buried, Flesh, and Spiral. None of them are particularly strong in the Incipisphere — you might think the Spiral would be, but SBURB does have its own rules.

For the Spiral, the main thing is they don't want the Distortion. They could try for non-Distortion Helen Richardson, or even non-Distortion Michael Shelley, but if something went wrong then they'd have the Distortion alive again and who knows what would happen. So… uh… hmmm… Oh, Mike Crew had a prolonged Spiral problem! He might not be very happy with the because of… everything, but he could probably be talked into cooperating for his own benefit, right? So he's reluctantly anchoring Spiral, because it's supposed to be temporary, he wants to live, and at least that stupid Lichtenberg figure hasn't showed up. He's also more human than he's used to. His role is Bard of Stone, Derse dreamer, Land of Mazes and Ravines.

And as long as they're giving second chances to dead avatars who probably don't deserve them but who did start out as traumatized children, what about Julia Montauk? She could maybe anchor the Flesh — there were those beating hearts in the shed, and she probably ran into more while Hunting… Okay, Flesh. She's not super happy about the Flesh thing but is more disoriented by being much less Hunter than she has been in years. Her role is Ghoul of Life, Derse dreamer, Land of Ribs and Regrowth.

And finally… okay, they're going to throw Buried at Jurgen Leitner. He's probably marked by about everything, and he was "buried" in the tunnels for years. It's fine. His role is Thief of Strange, Derse dreamer, Land of Pits and Dust.

How does it all turn out in the end? Who knows. Almost certainly no worse than canon will.

[hypnoshatesme]

Unlikely Acquaintanceship

[[As not-quite-promised here, I did finish the Distortion!Michael meets Book!Gerry fic! Thanks again for the idea, it was a lot of fun to play around with :)]]

*

They left him again. It was becoming a habit. They'd read him out, try to get him to answer their monster related questions and then they'd 'forget' to dismiss him and left him in the boring shed. Not that Gerry could do much of course. It wasn't like he could interact with anything. All he could do was read his page, left open. He knew it by heart now, was desensitized to looking at his last moments scribbled on his own skin. It had been a slow process to get used to it.

Gerry had not trusted Gertrude but he had wanted to, had tried to. The betrayal he felt when he was read for the first time, when he had seen the book, had been gutting. Except Gerry didn't quite feel the same anymore, feelings were twice removed, but it still hurt. Not as much as existing did. He remembered her talking about death being a mercy, and it hurt to realise that she did not consider him worthy of it. And Gerry hated that he was still hurt by it. That he had expected things to be different. Gerry really should have known better after so many years of being fucked over.

He didn't notice the door at first, he was reading. And so Gerard ended . He wished. He wished he was ended. Eventually, Gerry caught movement at the corner of his eye and looked up just in time to see the creature step out of the yellow door. Gerry was confused at first at the utter lack of confusion, until he remembered he wasn't really there. He wasn't alive so his senses didn't feel the presence of the Spiral the way he used to. Gerry’s senses were no more.

Gerry had never met this particular aspect of the spiral but he had read about it. He had even found the assistant’s paperwork while going through Gertrude’s things, the poor guy she had sent into the hallways to stop the ritual. Michael. According to some statements Gerry read, it still went by the name.

It was eyeing the room with eyes full of fractal patterns and when they settled on Gerry he was fully prepared for the discomfort of looking at those nightmarish colours. He felt nothing and the disappointment he felt at that cut deep. Not that it mattered. There was nowhere to cut.

Its face was doing all sorts of things Gerry couldn't comprehend, but there was something...surprised about it. Curious, as it approached him - except it didn't, it just was there suddenly - many-boned knife-tipped hand coming up to touch him. He pressed his lips together at the familiarity of the motion. It was the first thing they had done after they read him out the first time too. Despite the fact that he knew he couldn't feel it, he still tensed. His form flickered a little where the knife points went straight through him. He didn't feel it, but he saw it in its face. It looked...delighted.

"You shouldn't be."

It hurt to hear it and Gerry wanted to pretend that it was the glass shard voice, off-synch, words overlapping, that hurt. It would surely have been were he still alive, still human. Unfortunately Gerry had always been too fond of knowing and he knew that wasn't the truth. He shouldn't be. Not he shouldn't be here , which would have also applied, but he shouldn't be , because he shouldn't. He wasn't.  

"Neither should you," he decided to answer. Gertrude’s old assistant merged with part of the Spiral. Between that, Gerry's ghostly existence nearly paled. Well, he couldn't really pale any more.

Gerry couldn’t quite place the expression that made its way unto its face in jagged lines, utterly unnatural. It looked searching, maybe, but for what Gerry couldn’t tell for sure. "You know me?" It sounded displeased.

"About you,” Gerry corrected, maybe a little too quickly. It had been a while since he had a proper conversation and he didn’t want it to end this quickly. “We worked for the same person."

"Ah.” It seemed to relax, as far as Gerry could tell. Its eyes wandered over him again. It was strange to be looked at so intensely. The hunters barely dared to raise their eyes. “This was her doing?"

Gerry nodded. It didn’t sound surprised which he guessed made sense. It looked around once more. Gerry wondered if it wanted something. Maybe it was searching for something.

"Why are you here?"

It shrugged. "Why are you here?"

Gerry looked confused for a moment, not having expected that question. He pointed at the book on the table. "Can't move the book."  He couldn’t move anything , couldn’t even feel it if he tried. His hand just went through it. He’d tried too many times.

Michael’s eyes followed as he pointed at the book. They lingered on it as it spoke, "Shouldn't you be in there?"

"They keep forgetting to dismiss me." Gerry tried to sound blank, but the bitterness still made it into his words. It didn’t really matter, he guessed. But he didn’t like to show how they were getting to him.

"They?"

"Some hunters,” Gerry sighed, running a hand through his hair. His old habits didn’t die, even though he was always struck by how much nothing he felt every time he did it. “I don't know how they got the book but they've been using me as some kind of handbook for monster hunting."

He managed better with the neutral expression and tone this time, but saying it still made him seethe, no matter how much he pretended. He didn’t even know why he was trying so hard in front of Michael. Maybe he was afraid that once he let loose he would be unable to go back to blank when the hunters came back. He didn’t want them to know they were getting to him.

"Ah."

Gerry would’ve loved to be able to read it, to understand that many-layered tone in such a short noise. It was watching him again and Gerry felt like it was trying to read him somehow. Its silence was odd.

"You're Michael, right?," he said to break it.

Michael seemed to consider its answer, "Among other things.” It didn’t sound too happy about it. “What about you?"

Gerry guessed it was a fair question. He might have hesitated answering if he were still alive, if it still mattered. It didn’t, though, and he was tired of only hearing his name from the hunters. He was tired of hearing that name in general. He’d never been Gerard.

"You can call me Gerry."

It seemed to be mouthing the name, before grinning. "I might."

Its grin was infectious, or maybe Gerry was just desperate to try out some other expression but the scowl he’d been wearing since death. One way or another, he grinned back and Michael’s grin seemed to grow wider, too wide to really look right on that face. Nothing about that face looked right, but Gerry didn’t really care. He was already dead anyways. He might as well try to enjoy this conversation, the breath of fresh air - not that he breathed - between drawn-out interrogations by people who clearly felt uncomfortable around him, but found him too useful to let go.

Somehow, it always ended up being about usefulness with him, no matter how hard he had tried to escape. It was like death had decided to really shove it in that his worth lay in being used and nothing more. Gerry was so tired.

“Gerry.” It pulled him out of his thoughts with his name, said slowly and deliberately, as if to taste it. “There’s nothing interesting in here.”

Gerry laughed, stopping just as quickly, surprised at the sound. Michael was eyeing him like it might be reconsidering its words. The door was still in the middle of the room, the brightest object Gerry had seen in a long time, and maybe in his life. It opened again and Gerry’s face fell, only for a second, only until he could catch himself and put on his blank expression again. He wondered if he had done something wrong as he watched it disappear behind the door again. He guessed there was no reason for that to stop happening in death.

*

Michael hadn't intended to go back to that shed. Nothing was there and there weren't many humans to feed on close. There was no reason to return. Except for Gerry, of course. Which also shouldn't have been a reason because Michael couldn't feed on the dead. But maybe that was what made it think back to that meeting. The fact that he was utterly unbothered by it. Just continuing the conversation like normal. That was new. New things were exciting. So it found itself in the small, stuffy room again and, as expected, Gerry was there, leaning against the table. Or hovering, rather, it didn’t look like he was actually touching the table itself. And this time, he also noticed it right away.

"Michael!," Gerry sounded way too excited at its appearance and for once he was thankful he was a ghost because he would've probably blushed at his own tone.

Michael was a surprised too, looking at him with eyebrows raised way too high. It had obviously not expected the enthusiasm, either. Gerry would have absolutely blushed by this point.

“Uh...sorry.” He brushed his hand through his hair, wondering how he managed to sound so flustered and so dead at the same time. “It-it gets really boring. Just staring at this room. Every distraction is, uh….exciting.” It sounded like a pathetic excuse, but it was, unfortunately, an honest one.

Gerry had believed it would never come back and he’d be stuck staring at nothing forever again. After it left he had realised how much he really missed just talking to somebody. Something, he guessed. He usually tried to keep his mouth shut with the hunters and talking to himself only made him very aware of the ghostly quality of his voice, so he’d rather not.

Michael looked around at the disgustingly boring interior. It looked as dull as before, so it guessed it could see that. It wasn’t entirely sure how it felt about being greeted like that, though. It wasn’t usual for people to be glad to see it, even when it was looking human. Normally they were, if not outright afraid, unnerved. Which was good, of course. Like an appetizer. But Michael couldn’t feel anything from Gerry, and it certainly hadn’t expected the enthusiasm. It looked genuine, too, if the flusteredness that followed was anything to go by. Not that Michael was particularly good at recognising emotions, but it usually could tell a lie from a truth easily. And Gerry wasn’t lying. Peculiar.

“Did they forget to read you back in again?”

Gerry took a moment, having expected some kind of reaction to what he had said. If it wanted to ignore that embarrassing comment, Gerry was more than fine with that. “Yes.” He rolled his eyes. “I think they do it on purpose.”

Michael couldn’t imagine what they gained from leaving Gerry outside if they weren’t even here. The nonsensical quality of it would have been a great reason for it , but humans rarely did things without a motive, from what it knew. “Why?”

Gerry shrugged. “So I might get more cooperative. I...don’t provide the most helpful of answers, usually.”

Michael got curious, head tilting to the side. “Why? If you know they’ll leave you like this?”

“Because I’m no fucking encyclopedia for convenient usage. I’m a person.” His voice went a little lower as he added, “Well...I used to be.”

Michael raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”

“I don’t care. It’s...I just refuse.” He sighed. “It’s not like this is awfully different from being inside the book anyways. The pain is worse, more...draining. But by now...it doesn’t really matter. I’d rather spend my existence not playing into their hands. At least that much autonomy I still have.”

Gerry had had no intention of saying all that, but he felt so much better now that he had put it into words. He didn’t care if he was being unreasonable, whether he was even making sense, it just felt good to have said what he had been mulling over for so long. He hadn’t actively set out not to cooperate. It had been an automatic reaction at first, mostly spite. There was probably still a lot of spite involved now. But it was also just something to cling to that was his , that was him .

Michael understood some of it. Mostly the stubborn, frustrated tone, the reminder that it, too, used to be much freer to do as it pleased, before it had been bound, before it became.

“Sounds like a high price to pay for pettiness,” it said instead.

Gerry shrugged, unsure whether he had imagined the appreciative tone. “It’s better than giving into the boredom and my new role as handbook, in my opinion.”

Michael looked around again, slowly, mumbling to itself, “They could at least provide you with something more interesting to look at…”

“Like you,” he blurted out without thinking, and then regretted it, because that sounded like he was hitting on it, which he was fairly sure he wasn’t. At least it hadn’t been his intention. He watched it nervously, wondering if he should try to clarify or if that would only make it worse.

Its eyes settled on him again, thoughtful for a moment, before its lips pulled into an amused grin, “Am I interesting?”

Gerry had been expecting some sort of smug understone, a knowing glint - okay, maybe not that, it’s eyes were constantly flickering and glinting and shiny - but its voice just sounded amused, a light tease somewhere in those layers, but nothing that would suggest it interpreted what he had said as flirting.

Gerry relaxed, matching its playful tone, “I could also just be very bored.”

It laughed and Gerry grinned, knowing full well that if his ears had still been human they would have probably disagreed with how satisfied he felt about making it laugh. It had been so long since he tried to lighten the mood with some stupid comment or another. It was good to hear laughter again.

Michael stayed a little longer this time and they continued their pointless chat. It sat down on the table next to him at some point and, clearly bored with the surroundings and started to change them mid-conversation. Gerry couldn’t always comprehend the pattern and shapes, the colours that seemed to overlap but never do what would’ve been expected. It was obvious that all of that wasn’t actually there, some fractals settling in mid-air, hovering furniture replacing, overlapping with the few items in the shed. And yet it also looked perfectly reasonable, in a way, and Gerry guessed being dead didn’t make him completely immune to the Spiral’s doings, since he knew, realistically, that reasonable was not an applicable term for anything his eyes were perceiving.

It was an interesting juxtaposition, making him lose track of the conversation multiple times, so it ended up being more disjointed. Michael seemed rather satisfied with that, eyeing him with curious interest when he dropped his sentence to look at a particularly bright coil, only to pick it up somewhat close-ish to how he had left it a moment later. Michael knew that if Gerry had actually been affected by what it was doing, there would have been a lot more confused frowns and headaches. He just seemed to be genuinely interested in looking at what it was making. His distraction wasn’t really its doing, but his own.

*

It became a habit to stop by the shed for Michael. Gerry wasn’t always there and it would leave again, then. But when he was there, it would stay.

Gerry found himself not feeling as frustrated every time they left him outside the book after another drawn-out interrogation. It wasn’t the case every time, but Gerry knew that Michael might appear. It did so sporadically, and Gerry still found himself stuck alone fairly often. But even those times were somewhat better now that he had some new things to think about from their past conversations.

At least he wasn’t stuck thinking about the same things over and over, reading that page again and again. He tried not to glance at it too much and it was easier when he instead tried to remember the exact shade Michael had turned the table into the last time. Even without it there, it served as a good distraction from his situation. And of course, he did still have the hope that it might appear.

They still talked about whatever, and nothing at all. It didn’t really matter, because it at least wasn’t trying to get Gerry to talk about the Fears or the Leitners or any of that, and that was refreshing. He could barely remember points in his life where anyone had shown interest in him rather than wanting to use him to get to a book or whatever. Which was why he had been highly suspicious, especially in the beginning. He was expecting it to trick him into telling it...something. It didn’t matter what. Gerry just knew that that was how it usually went. But it never tried to bring the conversation to the details people usually wanted. If it ever asked for further information, it was about him . It sounded genuinely interested in whatever Gerry had been thinking or doing during whatever story he was telling, ignoring the bits and pieces about the actual technicalities of how he managed to hunt down that book or destroy this monster.

It made Gerry paranoid, at first, and he spent much time trying to figure out what it was trying to achieve. But as time passed, and it just continued doing the same, Gerry relaxed. It felt strange, at first, to talk about himself. But Michael continued to encourage him. It was satisfying, in a way.

*

Gerry could hear the rain outside as they fell into comfortable silence. Michael was trying to fit more patterns unto the walls, humming a distorted tune, which somehow sounded even worse mixed with the rain. Gerry missed feeling the rain. Rainy days always made him aware of how much he missed feeling anything , really. Michael distracted him, yes, but Gerry was still dead and in pain and so tired. He’d been wondering if Michael would help him with that for a bit by now. It at least seemed not to hate him.

“Would you destroy the page if I asked you to?,” he ended up asking, disrupting its tune. He was looking at the floor that seemed undecided about what colour to be right now.

Michael looked at him and let the shed get back to its initial state. “No.”

Gerry wasn’t surprised, but he still felt like some unreasonable, fleeting hope had just been crushed. It had been stupid to hope for mercy from it. “Oh…I guess it’s not really your style.”

“I’d miss the company.” Michael said, staring at him.

Gerry tried to find his playful tone, but he couldn’t keep the lingering disappointment out of his voice, “You would?”

Michael grinned. “Maybe I’m just very bored.”

Gerry froze for a moment at the scarily accurate copy of the tone he had used to say something rather similar a while ago. He burst into laughter, then, sadness momentarily forgotten. Gerry hadn’t really expected it to agree to destroying the page. He had not, however, expected it to give him such a personal reason.

“What if you get bored of me?” There was always some lingering anxiety about it eventually not coming back and Gerry being left to his miserable excuse of a life after death again. He still tried to make it sound more like he was teasing it.

Michael watched him for a long moment before saying, “Hm...You’re anything but boring.”

Gerry grinned, “Especially from you, I take that as one hell of a compliment.”

“Take it as you want.” Michael chuckled. There was another short moment of silence before it spoke again, “You’ve been silent today. You didn’t finish your story last time. About your holiday.”

Gerry took a moment to remember what it was talking about, and another second to be confused, since he was fairly sure he had, in fact, finished telling that story. He looked up at Michael, who was watching him expectedly from its place sat on the table, swinging its legs back and forth despite them being too long for that to be possible. He shrugged, and started to talk about that trip from the start again, since he didn’t know where he had supposedly left off. He did enjoy thinking about that one. Even if it hadn’t quite worked out as a break, he still had had a fun time in Italy. It put a smile on his face. Michael looked satisfied.

*

Gerry was often in a bad mood when Michael arrived, eyebrows pinched into a v, lips a tight line. It became less with time, and even when Michael caught him on a particularly bad day, it usually managed to distract him enough to make that expression go away.

Today, however, there was something else to his face, something more than the usual weary anger. There was less anger, more despair. Gerry looked hurt and Michael didn’t know if it was more struck by that expression or by its own distaste of it. Gerry hadn’t even noticed it.

“Gerry?” It didn’t wait for him to acknowledge it. “What happened?”

He looked up, surprised, though it did nothing to wash away the pain in his eyes. “Michael.” He brushed a strand of hair behind his ear. He hadn’t expected it, had forgotten about it, in a way. He guessed he was rather shaken. “Nothing, really. They’re getting annoyed with my lacking cooperation and are trying harder. I...should probably be glad they can’t hurt me physically anymore. I think I really burned down their patience.” Part of Gerry felt some form of self-satisfaction about making them this desperate, but even he could hear the waver in his voice.

“What did they do instead?” They clearly had still found a way to hurt him, and Michael’s anger grew the more Gerry said.

Gerry looked away, letting his hair fall back into his face and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “They dug up some stuff...I...it’s fine. It’s...I’m fine.” Gerry didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t want to think about it. It had been enough to be confronted with the past once. He didn’t need to relive it once more.

Gerry did not, in fact, sound fine. Michael felt an urge to comfort, suddenly much bigger than its boiling anger, but it didn’t know how that worked. It hesitated for a moment, before walking up to him and leaning against the table next to him, not quite touching, but close enough that Gerry would have felt its presence if he had been alive. It didn’t, however, know how to proceed, so it just stood there, looking at him and trying to determine if there was anything it could say to make that much tension bleed away.

After a moment, Gerry leaned his head against its arm, more as a sentiment, as he knew he’d fall straight through if he were to really lean in. But he did appreciate it being there, and he wanted to show that, somehow, without having to actually talk. Gerry didn’t really want to talk.

Michael brought its hand up to pet his back, but it went right through him, making Gerry’s form flicker for a moment where it had disrupted it. Gerry’s smile was wry. “Doesn’t work.”

“Sorry.” It ran its hand over the length of his back, careful to keep it from going straight into Gerry again. It just felt...appropriate. Maybe that was how comfort worked.

Gerry didn’t feel anything, of course, but he was vaguely aware of the movement. He appreciated the sentiment, smile sad, but a little softer, “Thanks.”

Michael wasn’t sure for what, but it didn’t feel like talking. It needed the focus to not accidentally stab Gerry with its fingers. Even though it knew Gerry didn’t feel it, Michael felt like it would defeat the point of whatever it was trying to do.

Gerry closed his eyes and tried to imagine how it might feel. It wasn’t easy since he lacked a reference, but it certainly helped with distracting his thoughts from going back to nightmares he had hoped he could have left behind in the living world.

*

Michael could not forget the tone of voice, the expression and for the first time it considered maybe doing something about Gerry’s situation. It wouldn’t destroy the page. It wasn’t sure if it could. It would be direct interference with the End and Michael would rather not take sides. There weren’t sides to take, really, with the End. But maybe he could do something else.

The next time Michael came to visit, Gerry wasn’t there. It happened, sometimes. Michael had no sense of time, and the hunters probably didn’t work on a schedule, so often Michael would open the door and Gerry wasn’t there. It had considered before to read him out itself, but it didn’t want to disturb Gerry. He said it was better in the book.

Michael opened the book, leafing through it until it found Gerry’s page. It had never read it, but it always lay open, the skin looking fresher than the rest. Of course, it also had his name on it. His real name. It was strange to read it. Gerry was Gerry and thinking of him as Gerard Keay was like thinking of a different person. One Michael probably wouldn’t like as much. Maybe that would be for the better. It didn’t know and it didn’t care.

It cut the page out with its finger, carefully, before closing the book again and going back through its door, page in hand. The hallway didn’t like the page, something so clearly belonging to the End was an unwelcome intrusion. But Michael didn’t care. It was the hallway and it liked what was in the page very much.

It started reading. It didn’t like the words, but it continued, aware of Gerry appearing, slowly taking shape the more it read. And Michael made sure it was solid, his form, gave him colour and life, both a lie, carefully crafted and prepared in the last couple weeks or so. Michael didn’t know how long it had been. It didn’t matter.

When it looked up from reading, Gerry was standing in front of it, expression one of bewilderment, looking as much as Michael could manage like he had used to. It had mostly gone of what his ghost form gave and filled it with colour, with matter that wasn’t. It had found some photographs, too, for orientation.

None of them had prepared it for the intensity of that gaze as Gerry’s eyes settled on it after looking around in confusion. It forgot how to speak. It just stared back, marvelling at having something that looked so human look so directly at it without flinching. It should hate that, probably. It didn’t.

“Michael? What-where?” His voice sounded different, more there , and Gerry’s eyes went wide with awe.

“The hallway.” It showed him the page.

“You stole it?” Gerry sounded genuinely surprised. It had never even looked at that book properly before, had shown no interest in it at all.

Michael nodded slowly, unsure if it had done right, and even more unsure about whether it wanted the answer to that question to be yes or no. “Yes. I thought...Maybe you’d like it more in here.”

Gerry had discovered his hands by now, eyes going wide at the sight of skin. He touched one hand with the other. It felt real. Gerry’s ghost form never yielded to itself, so the fact that he could touch his hand wasn’t new. The fact that he felt something was. It wasn’t exactly skin, that much he could tell. It felt like deception, though Gerry didn’t know what that meant, not really. But he felt it.

“What did you do? What...how-” He could barely decide on what to ask, what to say as he looked down at himself and actually saw his body, instead of seeing through it.

“I tried.” Michael didn’t know why it was so nervous, why it was watching so closely for Gerry’s reaction. Or maybe it did. It couldn’t tell. “You can change it, if you please. It’s your body. Well...an illusion of such.”

Gerry looked at it, confused. “What do you mean, I can change it?” He held his hand up to his eyes, but it looked like it used to. It looked like his hand. “What is this?”

Too many questions, none of them Michael wanted to answer. Or maybe it couldn’t. “Try changing something.”

Gerry gave it a suspicious glance before frowning at his fingernails, willing them to darken. He had gotten sloppy with keeping up his appearance close to the end. He didn’t want to look at unpainted nails now. It reminded him of how he had pushed the headaches and dizziness back so Gertrude wouldn’t decide he wasn’t worth bothering with anymore. She clearly considered him plenty useful if she ended up putting him in that book, he guessed, but it was no comfort. She still abandoned him.

The nails turned a glossy black and he gasped, running a thumb over one of them. It felt very close to how he remembered it feeling, just one step removed from how it should be. He looked up at Michael in wonder.

“It’ll only hold up as long as you’re in here.” Michael offered, unsure what to say when Gerry was looking at it like that.

“It’s...I’m still dead, right?” He was still tracing his fingernails, eyebrows drawn together.

Michael couldn’t really interpret that expression. It didn’t really know if it was a critique or a simple observation, or something else, so it tried, “You can be see-through in here too, if you want. I just thought-”

“No! No, I didn’t mean to sound ungrateful!” He shook his head, looking up at it again with a small smile. “I was...I’m just trying to...understand.” Gerry was sure he would’ve gotten a headache from trying that if he’d still been human. Being in the hallway would have probably made him feel uncomfortable by now, too. He was definitely dead.

Michael’s head popped to the side again, as it often did when it found whatever Gerry said peculiar. “Understanding isn’t something you will find here.”

Gerry laughed, and it sounded properly like his laugh, no ghostly quality to it, and he stopped, surprised. That’s why he had asked. It felt so real . He felt so alive, somehow, while at same being highly aware that he wasn’t. Michael looked disappointed when the laughter stopped, and Gerry chuckled.

“I guess you’re right I...it’ll take some getting used to.” Not wanting to understand just wasn’t in Gerry’s nature. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t embrace this. Could he embrace something? “Wait, can I...touch things in here? Does it work? Or is it just like outside, where it only work on me?”

Michael shrugged. “Try it out.”

Gerry touched the frame of the picture next to him. He hadn’t noticed it before. He was fairly sure it hadn’t been there. It felt wrong, a lot like he did, but it felt solid. He pressed a little bit but his hand didn’t go through. Until he willed it to and nearly lost his balance. He steadied himself again, brushing his hair behind his ear, worried about blushing until he got too distracted with the fact that his hair felt so much like it used to.

He looked back at Michael who was still watching him with its grin that could have been a smile if you’d switch the definitions of the words. Gerry wondered, not for the first time, how it might feel.

“Michael?” Gerry sounded embarrassingly bashful and yet somehow not as nervous as he actually felt. “Can I touch you? I mean- i-in general? Is...is it possible?” He ran a hand through his hair nervously, “Would it be okay?”

Now it was definitely smiling, Gerry thought. Maybe. It held out its hand and Gerry felt very much like when he had wondered about how sharp his mother’s skinning knife was as a child, an urge to reach out and find out while at the same time being well-aware that it was a bad idea. Michael’s hand didn’t cut him as the knife had and Gerry marvelled at the lack of the pain he had been bracing himself for. It didn’t feel like a hand, either, skin so strange under his fingers he found it difficult to call it that. But he could feel it. He barely heard the short, delighted laughter that escaped him.

Michael smiled at the noise again, lovely as it echoed in its hallways, and it slowly closed its fingers around Gerry’s hands, squeezing it. And Gerry wanted to cry, because this was a lot of new, confusing things happening at once and he had no idea how to cope. He had a new body, that wasn’t really a body, was only a lie of a body as long as he stayed in this place with its maddening colours and patterns. There was a hand with too many bones gently holding his own, not pushing or pulling or making any attempt to hurt him. There were definitely tears in his eyes now. Michael looked troubled.

“Are you alright?” People often cried when it brought them into the hallways. Usually not this quickly. And Michael had assumed Gerry would probably be immune to the constant pull of insanity since he was dead. Maybe it was the pain of the book? “Is...is it making the pain worse?”

Gerry blinked, making some of the tears run down his cheeks, surprised at the fact that he hadn’t even thought of the pain. Even though it had been a  constant for years now, it was hard to ignore, all encompassing and constant. Gerry barely felt it in the hallway. There was too much distortion. He could feel it was still there, but it didn’t seem quite right, anymore. It was strange. He shook his head.

“No...I think it’s making it...less.” Not necessarily less bad, or intense. Maybe not even less in quantity. Just...less. He couldn’t explain it. “I...I’m just overwhelmed. I don’t-I didn’t think-”

Gerry didn’t know what he didn’t think. He didn’t think his existence would ever change again from the misery it had become. He didn’t think anyone would help him. Kindness had been hard to come by in life and he hadn’t expected to find it in death. Or he had. A hope quickly crushed when the pain had started.

He sniffed, unable to explain what he meant to say and Michael pulled him closer, carefully. Gerry knew he could pull away, Michael’s grip was lose, his tugging a suggestion, a question Gerry answered silently by following as it navigated them into a hug. Gerry could feel its hands on his back, on his shoulders, heavy but light, gentle. He didn’t feel trapped but held , and he buried his face in Michael’s chest, wrapped his arms around its middle. It full of strange angles under his fingers.

He didn’t know the source of the tears anymore, but he didn’t fight them. It felt good, relieving. He felt Michael’s hand running over his hair, and he half-expected it to pull, but it didn’t. It just continued the soothing motion, the other hand still holding him tightly, but not too tight.

“Thank you,” he mumbled, voice barely above a whisper.

Michael nodded, too struck by everything to form words. Not that it knew what to say. It hadn’t expected this. It didn’t know what it had expected, and it had worried about the tears, worried this hadn’t been a good idea. It relaxed, now. Gerry’s words were genuine, it could have told if they weren’t. If he was thanking it, then it hadn’t been too bad of an idea. It felt like too much of a thank you for the little Michael had actually done, but it didn’t dwell on it. It wasn’t like it understood a whole lot about emotions, but it was fairly sure that what it was feeling now was relief. And maybe something else.

[that-one-girl-behind-you]

Illicio 11/?

Part 10

Gerry gives a dry, humorless snort as he sits up on the chair, and Jon lets go of his face to give him more movement. "It's- she was fond of me, she says." Jon stiffens, when Gerry's forehead lands softy on his stomach. "Where was that when she was making my page?"

"...I don't know." Jon whispers, bringing his arms to rest across Gerry's shoulders. "I- there are a lot of things I don't understand about her."

Gerry's arms tighten around his waist. "Of course. Night and day." His voice is muffled against Jon's sweatert, his breath filtering through the fabric, searing hot against Jon's skin.

"You loved her." Jon says, not really asking what he already knows.

"It didn't matter, in the end." Gerry snorts again. It sounds like it did. Like it does.

XI

The fact that the Institute building is so beautiful when it holds so much horror is both very fitting and very jarring, Georgie thinks.

Once you know what you're looking for, you can see the subtle eyes carved amongst the leafy motifs wrapping around the exterior pillars, and the unnerving gaze of the rounded window above the double oak doors.

She doesn't go too close despite the pouring rain, preferring instead to lean against a lamppost across the street and text Melanie that she's already there. This is how she gets a first row seat, partly hidden behind her large umbrella, when Jonathan Sims comes down the street towards this terrible place.

With him is a man she's heard plenty about, tall and broad-shouldered, with long black hair and blue-green eyes. The hand he's not using to hold an umbrella above their heads is deep inside the pocket of Jon's coat, along with his own; Jon is leaning against his arm in that way Georgie knows means he wants you to hold him closer.

That last thought draws a sigh out of her, as the two men draw closer to the Institute. Jon has always been a complicated subject, but he's so much more so lately. Georgie loves him, but she's also terribly aware that every time she allows herself to care, she comes out burned. Just earlier this year she had to sit by his bedside wondering if he would ever wake up again, and if it would really be better if he did.

They seem to be saying goodbye now, and Georgie can feel the tension from here. Jon is tilting his chin up and slightly to the side, but also leaning slightly away from the man, who's leaning towards Jon, but retreats after a moment, taking a deep breath. Jon lets their hands fall apart as he climbs the steps towards the Institute. The man watches him disappear behind the door, and Georgie starts crossing the street.

"Hey." The man doesn't flinch at her voice, and Georgie wonders if he knew she was watching. "You're Jon's Gerry, right?"

The man snorts with a hint of resigned humor. "Yeah. I guess that's the only of putting it. You're Georgie?"

"The very one." Georgie nods. "Melanie has told me about you."

"Has she? I'm almost afraid to ask." Gerry smiles at the name, and Georgie finds herself mirroring it. "You look well. Jon will be happy to know."

Georgie sighs. "Actually... please don't tell him you saw me."

"Oh?" Gerry arches an eyebrow.

"I don't- we're not really talking anymore." Georgie shrugs. It's painful to say aloud, because Jon grows on you, with his rare smiles and his quiet gestures of love. Every time she lets him back in, it's a battle to rip him out.

"Huh. I thought he'd stayed with you last year while-"

"While the police looked for him, yes." Georgie crosses her free arm over her chest.

"That's... you do know he didn't do it, don't you?" Gerry frowns.

"Wouldn't have let him into my house if I didn't believe him. I just-" Georgie's gaze drifts towards the Institute. While it -like anything else, really- doesn't inspire any fear in her, she can hardly ignore what she knows about it. "I don't really approve of his decision to stay involved in all of this."

Before her, Gerry stiffens. "Excuse me, his what?" His eyes harden.

Georgie scoffs. "I'm not sure how long you've been here for, but Jon is very self destructive."

"Oh no, trust me, I know." The man shakes his head, and Georgie knows there's a story there. "But calling it his 'decision' is-"

"Listen, I'm not interested in discussing it," Georgie says, shaking her head. "I saw Jon recording his creepy stories even when he didn't have to, when I asked him to stop, and now Melanie's trapped here because-"

"Because you brought her here," the man snarls, and Georgie freezes.

"Excuse me?" she asks, her voice low and dangerous.

"Wasn't it you who told her where to give her statement? You're flinging a lot of bullshit accusations around for someone who doesn't even know-"

"Georgie?" Melanie's voice drips down on them colder than any rain could be. "Gerry? What's going on?"

Gerry's face does soften when he looks at Melanie, who descends the stairs and slips her hand into Georgie's like a reverse of the scene she just witnessed from across the street.

"Nothing. You should talk to her." He turns around then, and starts the walk back up the street, without a single look back.

"...What happened?" Melanie asks, squeezing her hand and looking up at her with a frown.

Georgie forces her body to relax, the man's last accusation still echoing in her mind. She looks back at Melanie, taking in the worried curve of her brows, the raindrops shimmering in her hair, the bags under her eyes from the nightmares. She loves her, Georgie thinks, she has for a while. Was this really all her fault?

"Melanie?"

"Yes?"

Georgie knows, really, that it is her ignorance as well as her lack of fear that has kept her somewhat safe from this world her loved ones move in; it's becoming increasingly difficult though, to stay that way. "I need you to tell me everything."

--------------------

"What are you thinking?" Melanie asks, reaching a hand to intertwine their fingers together. "It's a lot to take in."

"It's true." Georgie looks down at her cold, untouched meal, replaying Melanie's story in her mind. "If I hadn't suggested you give Jon your statement-"

"Elias would have found me some other way," Melanie says immediately. "I- it's not even like I was marked already when I first came to the Institute. I think what really matters is that I came back, once I was. It's- really, nobody forced me to go around looking for more ghosts, Georgie. I just had to know. The Eye... it really is subtle."

Georgie runs a hand through her hair. This is- all of this, it's too much. "Is there really no way to stop it?"

Melanie pokes at her own half-eaten panini. "Not- I mean, I'm not controlled by the Slaughter anymore. But I signed the contract. That's- as far as we know, we're trapped in there. Jon says he and Daisy sort of were human again when they were in the coffin, but that's another dimension. I don't think there's a way to break it, not while we're alive."

She mulls this over for a moment. So... so Jon wasn't just being difficult when he said he couldn't stop recording the statements, or when he got his hand burnt. He- it's like all the frustration she's been harboring towards him the past year has congealed into a viscous, disgusting knot at the bottom of her stomach.

'You don't even have the credentials to be the head archivist', Georgie had said. It's terrible to know that that's probably the reason why Jon was offered the job in the first place. Jon, who's always doubted himself, and overcompensates by throwing himself head-first into things. Almost too easy, like throwing a stray dog a sausage stuffed with crushed glass, and watching it die painfully because it gave in to the need to eat.

"You don't have to just... like him again, you know?" Melanie reaches out to lay her hand on Georgie's. "I don't. I just- this is Elias' game."

And yet the only thought in Georgie's mind is that she left the hospital room without saying goodbye, and the dozens of unread texts and ignored calls in her phone. The fact that they stopped coming, when it became clear they weren't well-received.

"I- let's talk of something else, please," Georgie mutters, nearly begs. Were the nights on her sofa the last peaceful rest Jon had? "Did- did I show you this picture of-"

"Georgie, you're shaking-" Melanie mutters, and Georgie's voice cracks. "I- tell me what's wrong. Please."

But she can't, can she? Distancing from Jon was the right decision, even he probably agrees with that. Still, Georgie can't get rid of the feeling that Jon was reaching out a hand while he drowned, and she just watched him go under.

"I just- I need a moment. Please."

She doesn't look up when Melanie moves her chair beside her, but Georgie does lean into her embrace. This at least she's sure of.

"All the time you need." Melanie says, patient in a way Georgie knows is non-existent with anyone else. "I'm here."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Everything feels different about statements, lately.

The ones at the Institute never feel like the ones he gets fresh off the source, of course, but even reading those old stale ones, or listening to Gertrude's recordings, bring forth a barrage of information that leaves Jon feeling as though he just finished a well-seasoned meal.

Exactly ninety-eight prisoners were 'freed' from the Japanese encampment by the Nemesis. A hundred and twenty two Japanese soldiers killed each other to the beat of the drums, and some of their hearts were still beating as their recently liberated prisoners stepped over their bodies to go meet the boats at the shore.

Leonard Holden's last thought, as he twisted Milton Gallagher's neck, was that the commander officer was right, and this was really just like killing chickens back at the farm. When the bayonet first stabbed into his back, he let out not a scream of fear, but the bestial bray of a pig after you slit its throat. He never stopped tapping his feet to the Piper's music.

He barely registers the sound of his door opening and closing, his eyes focused -but unseeing- on the tape recorder on the desk.

As Gertrude moves on with her suppositions, Jon can See the Spider's webs all over the Nemesis, obscuring it from those who could have fed more violence into its fire.

"Doesn't help with the Unknowing, though," Gertrude says, and Jon gives a bitter smile, leaning back against the wide, warm hand that comes to rest at his nape.

"I don't suppose it would." Jon brings a hand of his own to cup the back of his neck, and Gerry intertwines their fingers together.

"Dekker always did have fun ideas," Gerry chuckles.

"Gerard may have a connection to the Eye, but I'm not sure it's enough... besides, I must admit I've grown fond of the boy."

Oh shit.

Jon scrambles to stop the tape, but Gerry reaches it first, and puts his weight on Jon's shoulder to keep him from getting up.

"Gerry, don't-"

"I do wonder sometimes, if I should tell him about Eric. He might decide to follow in his father's footsteps, but it's not like it did Eric any good in the end... Anyway, point is..." Gertrude continues to ramble on, but Jon couldn't care less about what else she has to say as he pushes his chair back. Gerry's grip on his shoulder has grown lax, as he stares at the tape recorder in his hand with a raised eyebrow.

"Gerry-"

"What does she mean, my father's footsteps?" Gerry's eyes, confused and hurt, fix on his when Jon climbs to his feet. "Jon?"

"I- I don't know." Jon closes his eyes, but the Watcher won't volunteer any information. He digs harder, but is only shoved back with the same ferocity with which knowledge is forced into his head. "Gerry I- oh!"

When he parts his eyelids again, twin streams of ink are flowing down from Gerry's nostrils, and Jon wipes at them with his sleeve.

"Your shirt-"

"Stop it," Jon snaps. "What makes you think it will let you Know, if it won't let me? Sit- just stay still already!" he bats away at Gerry's hand, pulling and pushing at him until Gerry's sitting on his chair and Jon stands between his legs, dabbing at the still flowing ink. "Stop trying to-"

"Jon, I can't!" Gerry snaps, wrapping a hand around each of Jon's wrists to pull them away from his face. "Do you even- what does she mean?!"

"Gerry, I don't know." Slowly, very slowly, Jon moves his hands to cup Gerry's face; his eyes are still unfocused, his breathing wild, and the ink is starting to run down his neck. "Please stop. You're hurting yourself." Jon's voice is very nearly begging, but he couldn't care less because Gerry's eyes finally focus on him.

Gerry lets go of his wrists, and Jon's heart skips a beat when his hands come to rest at Jon's hips almost tentatively.

"Doesn't-" Gerry starts, then clears his throat when his voice comes out hoarse and rough. "It's not fun when it's someone else, huh?" he asks, his breathing still coming in long, shaky pulls.

"I- I suppose it's not." Jon slides his thumb over Gerry's cheekbone in an awkward gesture that he hopes transmits comfort. "Are you alright?"

Gerry gives a dry, humorless snort as he sits up on the chair, and Jon lets go of his face to give him more movement. "It's- she was fond of me, she says." Jon stiffens, when Gerry's forehead lands softy on his stomach. "Where was that when she was making my page?"

"...I don't know." Jon whispers, bringing his arms to rest across Gerry's shoulders. "I- there are a lot of things I don't understand about her."

Gerry's arms tighten around his waist. "Of course. Night and day." His voice is muffled against Jon's sweatert, his breath filtering through the fabric, searing hot against Jon's skin.

"You loved her." Jon says, not really asking what he already knows.

"It didn't matter, in the end." Gerry snorts again. It sounds like it did. Like it does.

Jon digs a hand in Gerry's hair at the base of his neck, a mirror of the gesture Gerry uses on him all the time.

"I think it matters. I- I don't think Gertrude could afford to care, Gerry, but these recordings- they were for her." She couldn't have expected anyone would find them in her mess of an Archive, for sure. "She cared for you."

Gerry flinches like the words are yet another blow, and Jon tightens his grip on him, this man who only ever wanted to do good with his life, and who was hurt in return every time.

This man who is his now, something dark and slithery whispers at the back of Jon's mind, to correct the damage, to protect and comfort, if only he was powerful enough.

It's really hard to ignore the Beholding, when it speaks Jon's thoughts aloud.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Martin waits until the woman leaves, before he heaves a long, tired sigh.

This is... Less than ideal. He gives the whirring tape recorder an accusing glare and a shake of his head.

"Don't just 'brrrrr' at me. What are you doing, Jon?" he snaps. "Are you just- preying on people now? What am I supposed to do with this?!" He can't give it to Basira or Melanie, they'll kill him before they give him a chance to explain. Martin runs a hand through his hair.

There is someone else isn't it?

It's a dreadful thought, but after talking to the- to Jon's victim, he feels human enough to realize it's the Lonely feeling it, not him. Gerard is... whatever he is, he's helping. With Jon.

Martin pockets the tape recorder, and locks the door to Peter's office before starting down the corridor. It's relatively easy to follow in the specific direction the Lonely doesn't want him to go, but Martin feels another, lighter pull against his destination that he suspects might be the Eye.

"Of course you'd prefer him to keep doing it, wouldn't you?" Martin grumbles, glaring at one of the carved eyes in the masonry. "Well-"

"Are you talking to yourself?"

"Jesus!" Martin flinches, turning in time to see a smug smirk spread over Gerard's lips. "Could you stop doing that?!"

Gerard lifts both hands in surrender, his smirk still there and not apologetic in the least. "Sorry, sorry. It works just fine to get a bit of color back into you, though."

Martin huffs. "Well, don't. Anyways, I was looking for you."

"You were?" Gerard raises an eyebrow. "Got another Extinction statement?"

"No, actually..." and now that Martin has him before him, he's not really sure of how to put this into words. "Its- Jon has been taking statements," he says, shoving the tape in his direction. That's probably easy enough to understand right?

"O...kay? That's his job, isn't it?" Gerard does take the tape, but he's still giving Martin a quizzical look.

"No, I- he's- Gerard, he's been looking for statements. From people who don't come to the Institute to give them." And that's when he seems to catch on, because he grimaces, and lets out a low whistle. Martin nods. "A woman came to my office today, he- I think he compelled her."

Gerard looks down at the tape in his hand, the slightest curl of distaste at his lips. "How did she look? Was she...?"

Martin sighs again. "Said she's been having nightmares."

"Yeah..." Gerard shakes his head slowly. "That tracks."

"I just thought... he'll listen to you," Martin says, every word a little sting in his chest.

"He'd listen to you too," Gerard frowns, "I know you don't want to talk to him because of your isolation thing, but I think it would be better-"

"He loves you," Martin says simply. Like ripping a bandaid, if ripping a bandaid felt like tearing your skin off. He misses the numbness of the Lonely a little, but it's very unlikely he'd be able to call on it right now, not with Gerard right here.

"Whoa!" Gerard's eyebrows shoot up again, and a nervous chuckle escapes his lips as if it's been punched out of him. Martin doesn't miss the color rising on his face, and his lips twitch. "That's- you don't know that."

Martin rolls his eyes. "Gerard-"

"Actually, can you not... call me that?" Gerard interrupts. "It gets on my nerves. Just... Gerry's fine, alright?"

"Oh." Martin blinks. "Okay? What does that have to do with this?"

"Nothing. I just- listen, I've spent every single moment since I was brought back to life hearing about how bad Jon has it for you." Gerry pockets the tape recorder, and Martin wonders if it's really alright, that they went from talking about Jon's victims straight to discussing which one he's in love with. Maybe Peter wasn't that far off when he called the Archives a soap opera. "And it's very frustrating when you keep being as obtuse as possible about it."

"I can't exactly do anything about that, can I?" Martin rolls his eyes. "I'm supposed to be isolating myself to- to save humanity or something, and like we established before, he has you, so-"

"There's more than one way to do these things, you know?" Gerry speaks over him, and Martin has to stop on his tirade due to choking on absolutely nothing. Gerry pats him on the back, and Martin bats his hand away, face burning.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Martin asks.

Gerry groans. "You're impossible. I'll talk to him."

He stomps down the stairs to the Archives, and Martin stays there, mortified, confused and a bit exasperated, which is apparently becoming his usual state after any interaction with Gerry.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"I know you've been feeding." Gerry says once they've sat down at the café, because there is probably not a good way to tell the man you're in love with that the man he is in love with had to come to you so you'd ask him to stop feeding on the fear of innocents.

Across the table, Jon pales immediately. "I- how?" he stutters out, and Gerry wants more than anything to reach over and lay a hand on his to reassure him, but there are things that must be said first. "Who told you?"

"Martin did. He... there was a tape. Apparently someone came in to complain." Gerry reaches inside his jacket, only to find that the pocket is... empty. "Huh. Wait."

He pats the other pockets, as well as the ones on his jeans just in case, but the tape is just gone. Gerry frowns, confused, until the very clear memory of a yellow door at the bottom of a drawer pops up in his mind, and he groans.

"Why- what would Helen want that tape for?" Jon asks, and Gerry frowns at him when his eyes start to give off the faintest green glow.

"Don't do that. That's exactly why we're here, Jon."

"I- yes. Sorry." Jon sheepishly lowers his gaze to the table. "I... know. I know I shouldn't have done it," Jon sighs. "I just..." his elbows come to rest on the table, and he buries his face in his hands. He looks... small.

There are places of power, for people aligned with the Entities. Mooreland Manor for the Lukases, Ny-Alesünd for the Dark's freaks, and Gerry can't even think about Hilltop Road without getting a headache.

The Archives are like that for Beholders; Elias is never as powerful as he is when sitting behind his desk, but Martin put him in jail and that means Jon is the biggest dog at the Archives now. Here at the little coffeeshop, however, apologizing for his very existence, Jon has never looked more frail. It's a relief, really. He doesn't know what he'd have done if Jon had reacted differently.

It means he's still Jon, even after all that's happened.

When Gerry reaches out to lay a hand on his shoulder, he's half afraid Jon will crumble to pieces under his fingers. Instead, the man's desperate gaze is aimed straight at him, and Gerry's relieved to notice it's not the bright green of the Archivist's eyes, but the sweet dark brown that looks at him over the edges of books at home.

"I don't know how to stop it. I don't even know why I'm doing it. It's- I don't want to hurt people." Jon says in the strained tone of a confession. "I- before the coffin, I knew I would need the strength, it was for Daisy. But after that I've just- it even made the statements a bit better, because I can Know more things about them-"

"Makes sense. Feeding regularly would make you more powerful." Gerry observes. Jon flinches back like the words had been a strike, and Gerry gives him a sympathetic shrug. "It's what you're doing; it's what Avatars do. At least people survive when you feed from them."

"That's... not helping." Jon's face looks pinched.

"No. I don't suppose it is." Gerry squeezes at his shoulder.

"I just- maybe I can live off of statements alone from now on. It's- they don't really.... but it's better, isn't it?" Jon asks, with the same fervor of a child insisting they can fix the toy they just broke.

"You don't have to stop." Jon's eyes widen at his words, narrowing in suspicion just a moment later. Gerry rolls his eyes. "Yes, yes. You do have to stop feeding off of innocent people, that's not debatable. I wouldn't let you, either. It will only make you change faster, and I'd like to think that's not what you want."

"Of course not!" Jon snaps, shrugging Gerry's hand off his shoulder with an indignant huff. "I don't- that's the opposite of what I want!"

"Mhm. Thought so." Gerry nods. "Feed from willing people, then. People who won't be afraid of you." Jon's face is still fairly flushed after his little outburst, and Gerry has the sudden, very distracting thought that he would very much like to kiss him. But he's got a purpose, at least for now, and most importantly, he doubts it's the purpose the Eye had for him. "Feed yourself, not the Watcher."

"I don't- is that how it works?" Jon frowns.

"Maybe? It can't hurt."

"That's- I don't think people like that exist, Gerry. Should I only take statements from Institute employees now? Basira won't hear of it, and I won't ask Daisy or Melanie. I'm not going to-"

"Well no, not them." Gerry feels a smile tugging at his lips. Jon is ridiculously blind sometimes, for someone on the cusp of becoming quasi-omniscient. "Start me off, come on"

"...What?" Jon asks, and Gerry doesn't bother holding his grin back. "Gerry, what on Earth are you-"

"Yeah. You know...." Gerry schools his face into stern determination and forces his voice into a deep, affected accent. "Statement of Gerry Keay, regarding-"

"Are you crazy?!" Jon snaps. Gerry doesn't miss the new hungry, predatory gleam in his eyes. Maybe if Gertrude had reached this stage of becoming the Archivist, Gerry would've had an easier time mistrusting her; but then again he's literally just offered himself up as a meal for Jon, so maybe his self-preservation instinct is just not great. "I'm not going to take a statement from you!"

"Why not? I've got them in spades." Gerry shrugs.

"Haven't you heard what happens to my statement givers?!" Jon insists, but Gerry can see his hands shaking, white-knuckled around the edge of the table. A dog before a steak that he knows he's not allowed to have.

Gerry chuckles. "I have nightmares all the time, Jon. This would just be choosing which episode I get to watch. And honestly? Having you there will add a bit of novelty, if you ask me."

"Novel- are you mad?" Jon is shaking. Gerry wants to hold him close and whisper in his ear about the time he set a Vast avatar on fire. "Gerry, you don't want me in your dreams, trust me."

Gerry leans an elbow on the table, resting his chin on his hand with a smile. "Maybe I do, you don't know that."

"Gerry!" The result is just as he expected, Jon goes red from neck to hairline, and Gerry gives him a wink. "I- that's-"

"Oh my God, he's flirting with you, you absolute moron," comes a new voice from somewhere next to their table. "No wonder you never noticed Martin wanted your sorry ass."

Gerry turns to face the newcomer, and his mind flares with alarms when his eyes land on the man's and the only thing he can see is fire. He was marked by the Stranger once, and the Eye as well; both marks have been burned away though, and they remain in his soul only as a reminder, with no real pull over him.

"Coffeeshop date and everything, statement included? You're getting lucky, Boss." The man speaks again, fixing Jon with an amused smirk, like this is a shared joke between them. Gerry can feel the temperature rise around them however, and see the barely concealed anger in his eyes.

It's not a look Gerry specially likes on a Desolation avatar looking at his Archivist.

Jon's face that was so flushed with color just a minute ago has gone pale, and Gerry tenses in preparation for a fight.

"... Tim?" Jon's voice is soft, almost... hopeful. After a moment though, his brow furrows, and his next words are grave and laced with a compulsion so heavy Gerry can taste the resentment as the words flow into his core. "Are you the real Timothy Stoker?"

The man's face contracts into a bitter mask as the compulsion washes over him. His body stiffens and his shoulders tense as he tries to resist the pull, but he fails, of course.

"Thought I'd hate it less now, but it's still the fucking worst." The man rolls his eyes, letting out a huff of steam. "I am. At least as much as you're, you know... you."

"The Desolation claimed you-" Jon doesn't really ask now. "At the Unknowing?"

"Big fan of my work, it looks like." Tim shrugs. "They buried my remains you know? The Desolation turned the whole grave into a cremation chamber for me to wake up. Climbed out just like that; I think I'm made of ash now."

And… yeah, that would explain the random fires they've been hearing about.

"So- so you're..." Jon starts, stops and clears his throat. "You're what, an avatar now? You're lik-"

"Boss, if you say 'like me' I'm going to punch you," the man interrupts him, and Jon's face tightens in pained recognition, like the threat of violence is much more credible as a confirmation of this man's identity than a compelled confession.

Maybe it is, and Gerry feels a burst of unreasonable irritation at the way Jon looks at his former assistant like he's both a ghost and a miracle, when Tim looks at Jon like he's a bug he'd like to step on.

"Tim... why are you here?" Jon asks. The compulsion is subtler this time, but still there.

"Honestly?" Tim asks, like he has any other choice. "I'm not sure. When I woke up, I wanted to see how the others were. Martin at least. Melanie, maybe. And..." he purses his lips, but doesn't manage to keep the rest of the words in. "I wanted to hurt you, if you were still alive."

Gerry stiffens in his chair, ready to hop up as soon as the man moves too abruptly. Across him, Jon looks... resigned. Like he'd known the answer before he even asked the question.

"Ah. Yes I- I can believe that." Jon sighs. "Are you going to?"

"He can certainly try," Gerry responds before Tim can even open his mouth, because he's getting sick of seeing Jon grovel for this guy's abuse.

"Gerry-"

"I'm not a hunter, but I've put out some fires before." Gerry speaks over Jon this time, his eyes fixed on Tim. He makes sure to lean back on his chair, and leave his chest open. Show this man that whatever fear he came looking for, he's not going to find here. "Molina died just fine with a scalpel."

Tim frowns, and much to Gerry's displeasure, looks much more confused than he does concerned. Something seems to click in his mind, because his eyes go the size of saucers, and he whips around to face Jon again.

"Gerard Keay?! The Gerard Keay?" he asks, and now it's Gerry who's confused. How does- "You're getting your freak on with the angry goth that shows up in every other statement? Isn't he supposed to be dead?"

Oh.

"I don't think either of us have any right to criticize anyone for not staying dead." Jon frowns. Gerry feels his mouth dry up; that's not the part he expected Jon to take issue with. "Now answer the question, please."

"Oh? Why don't you try your thing again? Don't really want to know?" Tim arches an eyebrow in challenge.

Jon rolls his eyes. "I know what you think of me, Tim. I'm not going to-"

"You literally just did it."

"Because I didn't know if you were... something else!" Jon snaps "I wanted to know if you meant harm to anyone in the Arch-"

"Oh, so you're the watchdog now?" Tim takes another step towards the table, and Gerry's napkin begins to smoke. "You keep everyone safe, you protect them?" He asks. His words are laced with mockery, striking like a cracking whip.

"I try-" Jon stutters angrily, only to be interrupted once more.

"Well isn't that great? You're definitely good at that, Boss, it's not like you've gotten what? Four people killed already?" Tim snarls. Gerry puts his napkin out with a couple pats, but he finds himself realizing he's not too worried. Desolation avatars know how to destroy. Tim could probably send the entire shop up in flames so hot only he would survive it, but he clearly doesn't want to. "They must be so reassured that you're taking care of them, Martin must be over the-"

"Shut up!" Jon's voice cuts cleanly through Tim's, and Tim's mouth clicks closed as static builds up around them. "I'm- I tried Tim. I did- I am doing my best to fix what I did wrong. I'll be the first to admit I- I made mistakes. And I know you won't forgive me, but- but I'm done. I- I'm done with begging you. What was it that you told Elias while I was gone? Either kill me, or-"

"Or fuck off" Tim nods. His eyebrows are arched, and when he speaks again his voice carries a hint of reluctant admiration. "Grew a pair while I was away, huh? Bit too late. If you ask me."

"Tim-"

"Yeah. Yeah, whatever. I'm not... I should hurt you." Tim shrugs. It's stilted, too tense when he's trying to look casual. "But I don't want to. I think that part died too. The real me, you know?"

Jon's face goes from closed off to hopeful so quickly Gerry cringes a little. Whoever this man was -is-, he's... important, for Jon. Whether he likes it or not.

"So you-"

"I don't want anything." Tim rolls his eyes. "Well that's a lie. I want to destroy things. See the world burn and all, you know the drill. But I don't- Just stay away from me, Jon."

Jon flinches at his name, almost as if 'Boss' had been a quirky nickname and not some sort of mockery. Gerry guesses it could have been, and the thought makes him like it even less.

"Those are some bold words, when you were the one that came in here." Gerry arches an eyebrow, his hand balled over the smouldering napkin.

Tim rolls his eyes. "I figured I'd decide whether or not I wanted to melt his face off when I saw him," he says. "Wouldn't get too close if I were you. People who care for him don't end well."

He walks away without waiting for a response, and the air around them begins to cool down immediately. Gerry watches his back until the coffeeshop's door closes behind him.

"Do you want me to go after him? I can- Jon?" whatever he was going to add fades from his mind when he looks back.

If Jon had looked sad when apologizing for feeding, now he looks... miserable.

Gerry knows all too well he's not built for comforting people. He can protect them alright, but there's a lack of action inherent to comfort that always manages to make him feel like he's doing everything wrong, like he should be doing something to fix the problem instead of just being there.

Maybe it should've been Martin who brought Jon here, Gerry thinks bitterly, because he would fight the world for Jon, but what good is it if he cannot make things right?

"... Do you want to talk?" he asks. That's how this is done right? Communication, catharsis, comfort. He can't fuck up a simple formula.

Jon looks up at him, a hand buried in his tangled mess of hair. His eyes are still shiny, but less with the thrill of a potential statement, and more with something Gerry doesn't want to even think about.

"Tim was my friend," Jon says, and he seems to grow even smaller as he talks. "He moved to the Archives for me."

"Jon..."

"Guess this is the best outcome there could've been. At least he's free now."

-------------------------------------------------------------------

Martin notices the melted doorknob as soon as he walks up to his flat door. It's not a great sign, probably, but also not something he's really in the mood for dealing with after the day he's had.

The Lonely kept coming and going at random today, and the complete numbness of it coupled with the bursts of intense emotion when he found his mind clear of it were exhausting.

"Whoever's in there-" Martin calls as he pushes the door open, careful to not touch the still warm metal "-I'm really tired. Please just say what you want, and go?"

The flat is completely dark, and Martin's eyes latch on to the two burning embers that he guesses belong to whoever came to kill-

"Dear, sweet Martin, telling the entities to behave. Things really have changed, haven't they?"

The voice crashes against him like a wave, terrifyingly familiar and entirely too disorienting; Martin leans heavily on the table by the door, knocking his mother's picture back. The warmth and the slight hint of humor contrasting with the raw bite of the words.

"T- Tim?" Martin gathers himself enough to flick the lights on, and sure enough there's Timothy Stoker, leaning by the door to his kitchen.

He looks exactly like he did the day he left for the wax museum with Jon; the scars from the worms littering his skin, the artfully messed hair, the confident curve to his lips. The only difference is his eyes, two burning coals in the middle of the much beloved face.

"Surprise," Tim says, elongating the word so much Martin can see the sarcasm bleeding off of it. "Turns out my old flat is not mine anymore, who knew? I'm going to need a place to crash for a while."

"I don't- how are you here?" Martin asks, still holding to the table for the stability that seems to have fled his world so suddenly. "You were- we buried you! Is- is it really you?"

"I had my doubts." Tim shrugs, making no move to get closer. "But I said I was when Jon asked, and it's not like I can lie to him, so I-"

"Jo- you went looking for Jon?" Martin's heart skips a beat. That can't be a good thing, that- "did you hurt him?"

Tim laughs at that, long and loud and bitter in rivulets of steam that raise from his parted lips.

"I should've known. No, Martin, I didn't hurt Jon." He says, his voice curling venomously at the name. "I wanted to. I really did. But when I was there, I-" his mouth moves around half formed words that he can't seem to give voice to, and his eyes flare up bright enough that Martin sees the glow even with the lights on.

"You couldn't." Martin blurts out when the revelation strikes, and Tim flinches. "I- that's- not that that's a bad thing, but Tim-"

"He compelled me, you know?" Tim spits out. "At the Unknowing. I was going to give her the detonator, but then he asked me to look, and I was so angry at him that everything was clear for a moment. And I killed us."

Martin takes a small, careful step towards him.

"You saved the world, Tim."

And Tim looks up at him, with a humorless smile.

"All I wanted at that moment was to kill him, her, and me, Martin. And I couldn't even do that." He pushes sharply off the wall then, and Martin restrains the urge to move back. "And I had him there today, he was practically begging me to do it, and I couldn't- why couldn't I kill him, Martin?"

He looks... devastated. Like the only certainty he had was just ripped from him and shattered before his eyes, and Martin has a moment to consider just how sad it is, that Tim depended so much on his hatred for the man whose friendship he treasured once. This new world has made strangers out of them all, empty husks that feed on resentment while yearning for a past that won't come back.

Martin takes a step forward, and then another, and another, and he only remembers Jack Barnabas' statement by the time his arms are closing around Tim, but it doesn't do much to stop him. Tim is in need of a friend, and Martin -or whatever is left of him that Gerry has managed to wrestle out of the Lonely- is the only one left.

Tim's arms come to wrap around Martin's back roughly, almost violently- Martin guesses that's now just as much a part of Tim as anything else.

"You melted my doorknob," Martin mumbles into the hug.

Tim snorts, and just for a moment, everything is right.

-------------------------------------------------------------------

"Ouch," Basira grunts, and Daisy flinches back like she's been burned.

"Did I bite you? I'm sorry, I-"

"No, stop." Basirs lays a hand down on her head to still her, and Daisy looks up. Basira's rubbing at her with a pained frown on her face. "Something just fell on me."

Daisy scowls, but a look around the room reveals they're alone. "What-" she catches the corner of something black and shiny poking from between the sheets. "Is that a tape recorder?"

Basira groans, and Daisy pats her thigh with a sympathetic smile.

"I'll ask Melanie to talk to Helen about timing."

[histeetharenotsoft]

honestly i have no idea how i’m supposed to make it to ep 165

because 162 killed me, like 3 times

spoilers below the cut!

ITS GERRY!!!!!! MR KEAY I MISS YOU

but this is the first time we’ve actually Heard him, not secondhand or with spooky ghost echo, just as a normal voice on a tape. and i just want to hug him so much because ohhhh boy he has no idea what’s going to happen and also i am love him

“do i get to hear them?” “perhaps. if you live long enough.” shut up gertrude shut the fuck up don’t just mention gerry dying so casually its Rude

hmmm i might write a fic where jon, sasha and gerry are somehow all the archivist because I Can Do What I Want

ooo here we have more fire in the archives foreshadowing

did. did gerry’s chair scrape when gertrude raised her voice. like he flinched. someone hug this man

and then his voice goes all quiet when gertrude is lecturing him and Mary Keay Can Catch These Hands

“you are occasionally useful despite your foolishness” wowwww gertrude. what glowing praise. don’t just say that to his face come onnnn

but “useful” though. “useful”. i know we already know gertrude is an ‘ends justify means’ type character but goddamn if that isn’t just a perfect description of her relationships with people: categorised by their use to her plans and nothing more

“the network of sinister tunnels that snake beneath the archive” gertrude definitely knows about the tunnels lets be real. she’s just protecting jurgen leitner stupid idiot motherfucking jurgen leitner goddamn fool book collecting dust eating rat old bastard shithead idiot avatar of the whore

what i wouldn’t give for gerry to have canonically beaten up jurgen leitner more than once. that’s going in my triple archivist fic

“what happens if we fail” oh. oh no. oh no whats gertrude going to say

“i suspect death puts us beyond their power” hmmm. seems like a fair point but i feel like the end would come up with some fuckery because this universe is a bastard and doesn’t let anyone get the rest they deserve. this isn’t really important to the plot (at least I Hope Not) but the thought of eldritch fear gods being able to reach us after death... chills

“[actual death] is preferable to lingering in a world they control” oh no that’s not good for jon to hear

“they might even stop death entirely.” hmmm. HMMMMMM

“and taxes?” “taxes i imagine will continue” hell yeah jonny get his ass (’him’ being capitalism). also i know the coronavirus lockdown isnt exactly an apocalypse caused by eldritch fear gods forcing themselves through into our world, but considering the shit thats been going on? yeah i imagine taxes would continue

“could it be undone?” “no, i don’t think so” oh no. oh no jon. jon nooo. he’s just playing it over and over and god he must be feeling so guilty and helpless. he also gets a hug. and another. and then three more. then one more but it lasts for like an hour before i have to phase back into my own dimension

TIM AND SASHA i’m still not prepared to hear their voices i love they

sasha is so competent she’s incredible and i am in awe of her

hell yeah tim is drinking his respect woman juice

“jimmy magma. joany magnum? jack magnet” asjdfhakjfhakjhfk tim you’re the best

“what if we kill him” Fuck Off Jonny You Can’t Do That

SADHJA WAS GOIJNG YO QUIKT I AM SJDFHKJLASLKFDJGKSDJHF

holy fuck we got canon timsasha. also “you’re not the love interest”??? sasha was a lesbian. source: me, also a lesbian. who can Do What She Wants

“you might be the character they drop after the pilot” sasha no dont say that!!!! as the character who was dropped after the pilot (ok season not episode but still) i have determined that is Illegal. and yes i know sasha was killed off for entirely valid reasons and not just dropped but shhhh i am hurting

“i dont have anything keeping me here” oh sasha. oh you sweet summer child. i wish that was the case. i really do

oh hey sasha knew about tim’s brother? martin told tim about his CV? THE S1 ARCHIVE STAFF WERE FRIENDS AND I MISS THEM A LOT BECAUSE GODDAMMIT THE S3/4 STAFF DIDN’T FOUND-FAMILY LIKE THEY WERE SUPPOSED TO

“no such thing as the real you”? “it’s all just masks”??? jonny stop stop im already dead you dont need to kill me again

(god i fucking hate that i get the stanislavsky bit. i only did drama gcse but the exam was terrible because none of the exam board’s practice questions were even anywhere close so no one was prepared and i spent so long revising all these pointless notes on how to answer the difficult questions and i regret it So Much and any reminder of that fucking bullshit exam i had to do Fills Me With Rage

“if you get eaten alive by improperly filed statements, me and martin will avenge you... we’ll burn this place to the ground.” god i am in pain. not only do we have more archives arson foreshadowing but we also have this line that hits like a punch in the gut because they didn’t avenge sasha, did they?

“i find it highly unlikely this sasha ever even existed at all” “i’m unforgettable” shut up shut the fuck up is this allowed? IS THIS ALLOWED???? because it fucking shouldnt be. it’s murder jonny time lads!!!

is. is jon crying. oh no

and then he gets fucking posessed by the cabin?? i love how the format of the statements has changed its very interesting

The One You Love The One You Love The One You Love

jonmartin are so in love that even eldritch fear cabins can’t not see it. jonny really said “you can read their relationship as platonic... but i am going to do my goddamn best to make that hard for you” huh

and fuck, this statement. it’s so creepy and i love how we cant distinguish which entity it is, because does it even matter any more? the list of 14 was a human creation anywhere, i think the ‘different parts of a body’ metaphor l*itner used is makes more sense now. it doesn’t matter which part of the body is attacking you, it matters that you’re being attacked in the first place so figuring out which part it is isn’t really a priority any more

but i think it’s mostly stranger and spiral? i also get very vague corruption vibes from the description of the planks because “they are warmer, softer and more yielding than the timber they present”? ugghhhh. corruption has often been associated with this kind of ‘wrong’ warmth (think jon amherst) and it also brings to mind that episode where the guy nails meat all over his walls and the rot makes the statement giver’s ceiling collapse. but then there’s the lonely there too, because yes jonmartin have each other but jon says it himself: “it will not let you feel the warmth of joy this love may claim to gift”. just try tell me the concept of being unable to find happiness in love isn’t Lonely, even if it’s not entirely true

but yeah basically i love the merging of entities present in this creepy statement

“our tomb” huh. the pov changes here, it’s gone from talking about jon in second person, to talking as jon in first person. so if jon wasn’t possessed by SpOoKy CaBiN like i thought (because if he was, why would he suddenly switch like this? it doesnt make sense)... then what was making that statement? my instinct is to say it was The Archivist or rather, The Archives talking about jon but like a separate personality, which... yikes

“[this will be] my chrysalis. it is time that i emerge.” monster jon? monster jon. this line gave me chills because damnnnn i love me some good eldritch!jon

“i wanted to leave and hunt down elias” hell yeah jon go and brutal pipe murder that bastard its what you deserve

martin has packed bags already and he brought tea and i love him so muchhhhh

and jon’s smile is AUDIBLE he loves martin so much my tiny heart can’t handle it

“we got this.” “apparently so 😍 “ just tell me you can’t hear the heart eyes in jon’s voice. oh wait. you cant

LET MARTIN BURN SOMETHING ITS WHAT HE DESERVES

“we can’t fight the world, martin” “says you” afkjhasfkjhadkjghdakjghakdgf

to summarise:

get ready for me to type out the same summary for all 40 episodes because jesus fucking christ. jonny’s writing never fails to make me Feel All The Emotions at once. i give this one a spooky sentient cabin out of 10

[bartsugsy]

What’s your favourite Robron moment ?? 😊

OK YOU SENT THIS DAYS AGO AND IT’S BEEN STRESSING ME OUT BECAUSE HOW DOES ONE (1) HUMAN CHOOSE A SINGLE MOMENT???? answer: they do not choose a single moment

ANYWAY RULES ARE FOR LOSERS HERE’S 20 RANDOM MOMENTS I LOVE:

20. THAT TIME DURING THE AFFAIR ERA WHERE ROBERT WAS LIKE HEY AARON AFTER I’M MARRIED WE’RE STOPPING THIS I’M BREAKING UP WITH YOU AND THAT’S THAT AND AARON WAS LIKE ok but what if we didn’t AND ROBERT WAS LIKE OK GOOD POINT WELL MADE GUESS WE SHOULD MEET IN A BARN AND BANG ON THE DAY OF MY WEDDING THIS CAN ONLY GO WELL

19. THAT TIME WHEN ROBERT PAID AN INSANE AMOUNT OF MONEY TO HELP AARON FIND SANDRA BC HE NEEDED HER FOR HIS CASE AND THEN REFUSED TO LET AARON GO TO SEE SANDRA ALONE AND WAS JUST GENUINELY QUIETLY SUPPORTIVE. AND THEY STILL LOVED EACH OTHER AND AARON FELT THAT AND FELT LIKE HE HAD TO KISS ROBERT THEN AND THERE BECAUSE HE DIDN’T REALISE THAT ROB WOULD WAIT FOR HIM TO SORT HIS SHIT OUT FIRST BUT ROB EXPLICITLY CLARIFIED FOR HIM THAT HE WASN’T GOING ANYWHERE

18. A LITTLE EARLIER IN THAT ERA, WHEN AARON WAS HIDING OUT IN IRELAND AND ROBERT WOULD JUST WALK INTO EVERY SCENE DEMANDING TO KNOW WHERE AARON WAS. EVERY SINGLE SCENE.

17. THAT TIME AARON SPOKE HORRIBLE FRENCH (HE LIVED IN FRANCE FOR Y E A R S HOW DID HE COPE) AND ROB WAS LIKE ........i’m dating the hottest man alive?

16. THAT TIME ROBERT LITERALLY GAVE UP HIS COMPANY AND HIS ENTIRE FUCKIN HOUSE JUST TO GET AARON BACK BC HE WAS SO TERRIFIED FOR HIS SAFETY

15. THAT TIME DURING THE AFFAIR WHEN ROBERT FINANGLED IT SO THAT ALL OF THE WHITES WENT ON HOLIDAY AND HE JUST FULL ON MOVED AARON INTO HOME FARM AND THEY ACTED LIKE A FULL ON MARRIED COUPLE FOR THE ENTIRE WEEK, LIKE THE MOST INSANE PREVIEW OF THEIR FUTURE EVER DESIGNED

14. THAT TIME!!!! LACHLAN THREATENED ROBERT!!! SO AARON JUST FUCKIN???? KIDNAPPED???? HIM?????????? A LITERAL TEENAGER???????????? AARON KIDNAPPED A FUCKIN TEENAGER BC HE THREATENED TO PUT ROBERT IN JAIL (and yes used methods that hit v close to home for aaron to do so) BUT HONESTLY HE SHOVED A TEENAGER INTO HIS BOOT BC??? SURE?????? they’re both insane

13. OH YEAH THAT TIME ROBERT BURNED 100K BECAUSE AARON, FEELING ANNOYED AND PETTY, INSINUATED THAT ROBERT LOVED MONEY MORE THAN AARON AND FRANKLY AARON IS ONE OF THE ONLY PEOPLE ROBERT DOESN’T PUT MONEY AHEAD OF (or he used to, before he Grew As A Person tm) (i’m sure that won’t stick

12.THAT TIME THEY GOT MARRIED

11. ROBERT JUST WANTED TO THROW AARON THIS MASSIVE SYMBOLIC SHOW OF LOVE AND DEVOTION BEFORE HE WENT TO PRISON AND HE WANTED IT TO BE PERFECT AND WHEN IT WASN’T HE WENT OFF IN A STROP BUT AARON COULD LITERALLY GET MARRIED TO ROBERT WHILST STANDING IN A PILE OF LITERAL RUBBISH AND BE HAPPY BC AARON DOESNT CARE HE JUST WANTS TO BE MARRIED (ROBERT ALSO JUST WANTS TO BE MARRIED BUT HE HAS STANDARDS OK) AND SO AARON WENT AFTER HIM AND TALKED HIM DOWN AND THEN THEY JUST SAID FUCK IT AND GOT MARRIED ALONE, IN A PLACE THAT WAS SPECIAL TO THEM, BECAUSE IT WAS LITERALLY JUST FOR THEM AND ABOUT THEIR LOVE FOR EACH OTHER??? AND IT WAS ABOUT KNOWING THAT AFTER PRISON THEY’D STILL COME BACK TO ONE ANOTHER????? AND THAT TOOK LONGER THAN EXPECTED (WAY LONGER) (AND WAS A LOT MESSIER) BUT IT STILL HAPPENED BC THEIR FUTURES ARE WITH ONE ANOTHER AND THEY EARNED THAT AND BOTH FOUGHT FOR EACH OTHER MASSIVELY

10. THAT TIME AARON WAS IN HOSPITAL DURING SSW AND ROBERT SAT IN THE WAITING ROOM WITH CHAS AND LOOKED DEVASTATED BC HE COULD LOSE THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE NBD. ROBERT WAS SO SAD BUT ALSO SO FRUSTRATED WITH HIMSELF AND HE FINALLY GOT TO EXPRESS HIS REGRETS OVER THE AFFAIR ERA AND HOW MUCH ~TIME HE WASTED FUCKIN AROUND BC HE WAS SCARED AND ALSO LBR WANTED THAT WHITE MONEY AND POWER WHEN INSTEAD HE COULD HAVE JUST BEEN FUCKIN HAPPY AND LIVING HIS LIFE WITH AARON, WHICH IS ULTIMATELY THE ONLY FUTURE HE WANTS FOR HIMSELF AND AALDHSDFOH THE JOURNEY!! ROBERT SUGDEN!!!! HAS BEEN ON!!!!!!! IS SO GOOD FIGHT ME

9. SPEAKING OF HOSPITALS, THAT TIME ROBERT GOT HIT BY A CAR AND AARON FUCKIN RACED TO THE HOSPITAL AND CRIED AT ROB’S BEDSIDE DESPITE HAVING OSTENSIBLY MOVED ON FROM ROBERT BC HEY NEWSFLASH AARON NEVER STOPPED LOVING ROBERT JACOB SUGDEN. AND THEN THEY PROMISED TO BE FRIENDS AND ROBERT TOLD AARON HE’D BE THE BEST FRIEND HE’D EVER HAVE AND I DIED.

8. THAT TIME THEY JOKED ABOUT ANAL SEX IN THE SCRAPYARD #GAYCULTURE

7. THAT TIME!!!! ROBERT WENT TO A GAY BAR!!! TO TRY AND GET OVER AARON!!!! BUT BECAUSE AARON IS A FUCKIN LUNATIC WHO, AGAIN, NEVER STOPPED LOVING ROBERT JACOB SUGDEN, AARON FOLLOWED HIM AND THEN JUST SORT OF LURKED IN THE SHADOWS LOOKING SAD AND ESSENTIALLY WAS PREPARED TO TORTURE HIMSELF WITH WATCHING ROB PICK UP A DUDE BC HE COULDN’T STOP ROBERT BUT ALSO, INTERNALLY, HE REALLY WANTED TO STOP ROBERT

6. OH AND THEN AARON SAW ROB GO OUTSIDE ALONE AND TOOK HIS CHANCE TO SAY SOMETHING AND THEY JUST SORT OF SADLY FLIRTED WITH EACH OTHER BECAUSE THEY BOTH DESPERATELY WANTED TO BE TOGETHER??? AND FELT THAT THEY COULDN’T BE???? BUT STILL COULDN’T NOT FLIRT WITH ONE ANOTHER????????

5. THAT TIME AARON WAS LIKE HEY ROBERT DON’T COME TO COURT WITH ME AND ROB WAS LIKE .....YEAH WHATEVER AND THEN SHOWED UP IN COURT ANYWAY AND AARON WAS LIKE ??? BUT ALSO :’) AND ROB WAS JUST LIKE LOL SINCE WHEN DO I EVER LISTEN TO U

4. THAT TIME THEY TOOK THEMSELVES OFF TO A HOTEL AND THEN LEFT IT IN A LITERAL STATE??? AND THEN JOKED ABOUT IT???? BC THEY SPENT ALL NIGHT BANGING????? AND AARON HAD LITERALLY FORCED ROBERT TO TURN HIS PHONE OFF BC CLEARLY ROBERT HAS A PROBLEM #relatable #me (oh and meanwhile gerry was dying but yk we’re talking abt robron here)

3. GDI THAT TIME WHEN ROBERT LITERALLY THOUGHT HE HAD GOTTEN AWAY WITH SLEEPING WITH REBECCA AND STILL TOLD AARON THE TRUTH ANYWAY BC HE JUST??? COULDN’T LIE TO HIS HUSBAND???????? ROBERT, WHO LIED ABOUT EVERYTHING??? AND AARON UNDERSTOOD THAT GROWTH DESPITE OBVIOUSLY BEING HEARTBROKEN AND DEVASTATED RIP, BC AARON KNOWS ROBERT. THEY KNOW EACH OTHER SO WELL!!!!! 

2. THAT TIME WHEN AARON WAS SO ANNOYED THAT HE COULDN’T BONE ROBERT IN PEACE THAT HE DECIDED TO SUGGEST THEY MOVE IN TOGETHER AND THEN THEY (ULTIMATELY) FUCKIN DID AND THEN ROB WAS LIKE HEEEEY TIME 2 PROPOSE AND PLANNED THIS INSANE PLAN INVOLVING ALL OF THE BREAD IN THE VILLAGE TO SHOW AARON JUST HOW MUCH HE LOVES HIM BC HE DOES

1.5 WAIT I HAVE TWO MORE HOLY SHIT THAT TIME!!!!!!!!! THEY LITERALLY!!!!!!!!!!!! BOTH PLANNED TO PROPOSE TO ONE ANOTHER????? AT THE SAME TIME????????? IN THE EXACT SAME WAY?????????????? WHO ARE THEY WHAT IS THIS???? DID THEY LITERALLY LIKE.... HAVE THIS CONVERSATION MID-BONE???? WHY WERE THEY BOTH THINKING ABOUT PROPOSING AT THE SAME TIME WITH THE SAME PLAN TO GO BACK TO WHERE THEY FIRST KISSED???? AND THEIR FAMILIES, WHEN THEY FOUND THIS OUT, WERE JUST LIKE ....oh lol AND THEN NEVER MENTIONED HOW FUCKING INSANE THEIR RELATIONSHIP IS THAT THIS IS WHAT THEY DID gdi who are they. OH AND THEN THEY ACCIDENTALLY??? ENDED UP AT THE LAY-BY ANYWAY????? BECAUSE ROBERT’S CAR ACTUALLY BROKE THE FUCK DOWN BC GOD CLEARLY SHIPS IT OR SOME SHIT AND THEN AARON WAS LIKE lol where are we never seen it before x EVEN THOUGH NOT 24 HOURS EARLIER HE WAS WAXING LYRICAL TO LIV OVER HOW ROMANTIC IT WOULD BE TO TAKE ROBERT TO THAT VERY SPOT AND FUCKIN ASK HIM TO MARRY HIM. AGAIN. BECAUSE THEY’RE ALREADY FUCKIN MARRIED?????? god they’re lunatics. OH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AND THEN ROB WENT TO PROPOSE AND AARON LITERALL GOT ANNOYED BC HE WAS LIKE NO IT’S MY TURN BACK OFF SUGDEN AND THEN THEY SAID IT AT THE SAME FUCKIN TIME bc they’re literally just insane i can’t deal with them.

1. that time aaron made a speech about how robert jacob sugden, knowing every terrible thing he’s ever done and having been victim to his stupidity, manipulation, hunger for power and money and general terribleness, is still a good person who deserves love bc as much as aaron knows the bad that robert’s done, he also knows all of the good and just how far he’s come - and robert knows now, bc he’s done so much to try and be a better person for aaron and for their family and now he literally is actually sort of proud of the person he’s become and so much of that is aaron’s influence and like... aaron makes robert a better person by loving him as much as he does and robert in return loves aaron more than anything and they both recognise this love within each other and does it literally go beyond common sense? yes. are they basically a cautionary tale as to why maybe there is such a thing as too much love? u know they are. but are they perfect for each other? RIP YES THEY ARE THIS ISN’T GOING UNDER A CUT READ THIS ENTIRE POST AND SUFFER WITH ME GDI

[lettersfromgerry]

My Dear Body

 I’m gonna be honest I’ve been hesitant writing this letter for a while now and kept rewriting it and adding things many times. The main reasons are because I want to say so much and at the same time I’m ashamed. I;m deeply ashamed from all the years I’ve made my body  suffer and punished it. But this is my story and I want to share it and own it. I owe my body a huge apology, but the most importantly I owe it care and recognition. So this is my way of saying I’ve done this to you, but I now value you and will respect you for all you are. So this letter is my story and my long due apology. This Is a story of being locked in a place you don’t want to be, realising everything that’s happening and knowing that these behaviours are hurting you, but feeling hopeless and seeing no way out. 

 Trigger Warning! 

I’ve written about some of my ED behaviours. If you don’t feel comfortable enough in your journey please don’t read up now.  Just want to tell you that your recovery is the bravest and most empowering journey you’ve taken! And you are doing great, no matter what you think right now. Don’t doubt yourself! Hey just the fact that you’ve  started it makes you brave and strong! Remember you’ve got this and you’re not alone! (Here is a link to go back to the blog page and choose anything else for you. ) 

For anyone else reading. Please keep in mind that everyone’s journey is different. These are all my personal experiences and opinions. 

 Dear body,  

I took things out on you and made you suffer and punished you. Caused you so much pain and blamed you for everything I wasn’t- blamed you for my feelings, struggles and lost sense of worthiness. I belived for many years that my body is the reason im not good enough and I im not able to live my liufe as I want it. I believed that because of my body im not liked, happy, loved. I put all my value and on worth on the way I look. Thinking now I needed something to blame, because I couldn’t see the facts and myself for who I am. I was looking trought a the eyes of all of the “should’s” and “supposed to’s”. I wasn’t seeing I was just obeying the culture of perfection. I put my whole life on hold, my whole self on hold, to focus on what I thought was my body, but it turned out it was what my body don’t have and just started punishing it. I focused on change, a constant strive for perfection and chasing ideals.  I deprived myself of  food but also I now realise I deprived myself of life with all of its  moments,  emotions and feelings. I believed that if I don’t look, act sertain way im not good enough. I based every day and everything Im on the way I looked. Everyday was measured on how much I weighet, how much my bones was sticking out how stuck out is my belly, how big it looked from my already super thight jeans. I spend countless hour infront of the mirror, looking, puling and pushing. I had bruises, but I didn’t see that, the only thing I saw was not good enough.  I starved my body to exhaustion and feeling faint. I wouldn’t allow myself to eat if I had to go out so my body wouldn’t look big. I convinced myself that my body is not worth showing, I was ashamed of it for being what is “ not supposed to”.  I deprived my body for all the wonderful pleasures there are, just because I deeply believed it wasn’t worth it.  I punished it by stuffing it with food to the point when I felt pain and couldn’t move. Stufiing to numb everything, but the pain couldn’t go away. Than the guilt and another punishmet to for “being bad”. Thinking now this was the probably the most painfull experience. Making my body purposely be sick, to get rid of something that it needs to servive. Pushing so hard until I couldn’t breath and seing everything from a viewer’s perspective.  I kept wanting to achieve these unrealistic standards and wanting my body to be something else. Even for a second I didn’t think about it as part of me. I always thought of my body as obstacle on the way to success, happiness, love and worthiness. years   

SO MY DEAR BODY!

I’m deeply sorry for the of the pain I caused you and all of the punishment I put you trough it. I’m sorry for all the times I starved you, for not being thin enough

I’m sorry for all the times I stuffed you with food and used it as a way to numb my emotions.

I’m sorry for every bruise I made with my constant pinching, squishing and stretching my skin, for not being “good enough”

I’m sorry for every time I made you sick, to get rind of my guilt.

I’m sorry for all the scars you have now because of my behaviours

I’m sorry for all the pain and hurt I caused you, for being against you all these years. For not accepting you as part of me. For doing everything to numb you and distance from you. For not counting you as part of myself, and just taking you as obstacle on my way of life, instead of the power that keeps me alive.

Even if I wish I could take back the time, I can’t. But actually no I don’t, because this wouldn’t be me and my life. And now I appreciate you and see you for all you are. I can’t forget what I’ve done to you, but this is in the past and I can’t change that. Now I can only remember and take care of you now that I know you and feel you as part of me and work with you not against you.

I have a huge gratitude for you my dear body. And even if I’m still not at place with truly and fully loving you. I recognise you as part of me, as my only body I have and the birth suit that keeps me alive. I respect you for everything you do for me and for caring me trough life. I have a huge sense of gratitude for you and for everything you are doing for me.

I want to thank you for caring me through life and keeping me alive all these years. I want to thank you for making me feel, for giving me a chance to move, hug the people I love, breath, dance, write. I’m so gratefull for being part of me. 

Now that I truly see you. I have a chance to work with you, to look after you and to be a team.

Thank you

Love and Gratitude  Gerry 

 PS And if you ask about. the nourishment and respect- it’s a journey and practice deffinetly not an easy one.  It’s an everyday experience and care. I choose everyday to grateful for what I have and be there to listen and give it what it n I know how scary and confusing this way of living is to many people. But if you been there and chances are you have been with fight with our body at some point in your life. Know that you are not alone. And you always have a choice- to accept and take care of what you have or to always be on a search for something that doesn’t even exist. And trust me the first one leads you actually living your life not waiting on the side-lines.  What do you guys think? What’s your relationship with your body