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suttttton · 3 years

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Growing Pains

Febuwhump Day 1: Mind Control

***

“You knew what you would find here, didn’t you?” Annabelle asks, leaning back against her kitchen counter, looking over Jon with eyes far too predatory for his liking.

“To be honest, I expected more spiders,” Jon says. He’s seated at Annabelle Cane’s table, in Annabelle Cane’s flat. Annabelle Cane is making him tea. He came here of his own accord, and even though he can feel his heart in his throat, he refuses to regret this decision. Hadn’t he long ago decided that answers were worth the fear? Isn’t that how he’s made every decision, since Jane Prentiss attacked the Archives? Since he read the wrong book and narrowly escaped being devoured by a monster?

Annabelle smiles, crosses her arms. “Just because you can’t see them doesn’t mean they aren’t here, Jon.”

Jon swallows. “Right.” His voice is faint.

“And yet you came anyway,” Annabelle says. “Do you know why?”

“I, uh… I thought I’d ask you—something. For a statement. Maybe.”

“And you thought I was likely to give you one?”

“Well, you invited me here, didn’t you?” Jon snaps, stiff politeness finally giving way to trembling anger.

“I did,” Annabelle says. She comes closer to Jon, and it’s all he can do not to flinch away from her. “Give me your hand,” she says, holding out her own to take it.

“Why?” Jon manages, even as he’s already extending his bandaged hand toward her.

She gives him a flat look, closes her eyes, takes a breath. His hand is trembling slightly, caged between her two hands. She opens her eyes. “Because our patron is worried about you,” she says. And then, her voice low with anger. “You will not compel me again.”

“Our patron?” Jon says.

Annabelle nods, her attention occupied examining the bandages on his hand. He tries to pull away, but he can’t. He can’t move his hand at all. She runs three fingers over the surface of his palm, and Jon holds back a squeak of pain at the gentle contact. “Jude did a wonderful job,” she murmurs, more to herself than to Jon. Then she looks at him, smiling. “And Martin did a wonderful job with the bandages.”

She releases him, and Jon jerks his hand back, cradling it to his chest. She steps even closer, and he’s frozen in place as one of her hands goes to his throat. Even over the bandages, she traces a line exactly where Daisy’s knife punctured his flesh. “Daisy’s is more impressive, though.”

The kettle screams, and she steps away to finish preparing the tea. Jon can suddenly move again, and he curls his arms around himself. This isn’t like meeting Jude Perry or Mike Crew. He wasn’t on even footing with them, either, but with Annabelle, it isn’t even close. He considers running, but he’s terrified that he’ll find himself unable to move if he tries to act on that thought.

“Why am I here?” he asks. He’d grown used to the small sliver of power his questions gave him. It’s terrifying to lose that.

Annabelle sets a mug of tea in front of him. He picks it up, takes a sip. He didn’t decide to do that, but it’s happening anyway. She sits down across from him, takes a sip from her own mug. “The Mother of Puppets is fond of you,” she says. Like that explains anything.

“You mean, the—spiders?” Jon asks, dread growing in his stomach.

“Knock, knock,” Annabelle says, smiling at him over her mug.

A jolt of fear rushes through Jon, and he takes a deep breath, steadying himself. “But that isn’t—I belong to the Institute, the, the Eye.” Jon still has so many questions about the Entities, so many things that he doesn’t know, puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together. But he knows that he doesn’t belong to the spiders. He escaped them.

“Sure,” Annabelle says. “But the Web claimed you first. You’ve been running around, collecting your marks like a good little Archivist, all inspired by your desperate curiosity, your gnawing fear that you won’t be able to put all the pieces together in time. It’s all very Beholding-flavored.” She wrinkles her nose, and looks at Jon, still with that sly smile. “Much better for you to strengthen your connection to the Web. Your fear will feed us. You’ll have our gifts.”

“So this is, what, an invitation?”

“Sure,” Annabelle says. “If you want to think of it that way.” She pauses. “Of course, invitations presume that you can deny them, and free will isn’t exactly the Web’s strong suit. The Mother of Puppets wants you to be ours, so you will be.”

Jon opens his mouth, to ask what the hell that means, but Annabelle cuts him off. “You should probably be going now.”

Jon stands up, not of his own accord, and starts toward the door. Annabelle follows. Before he leaves, she plants a hand on his shoulder, and he just barely manages to not flinch away. “Jon,” she says, and there’s something different in her eyes now, replacing the sly teasing tone she’d taken before. She looks… concerned. Sad, even. “There will be some growing pains,” she says. “Just do what the Mother wants. It’ll be alright.” She squeezes his wrist, and then shuts the door.

He doesn’t decide to go back to the Archives. The Web decides for him.

***

“Good morning,” Martin says, bringing in tea, as he does every morning.

Jon smiles at him. “Good morning, Martin.”

Martin looks at him for long enough that Jon starts to frown. “Martin? Did you need something?”

“What?” Martin blinks. “No, sorry, I—You just look… really good. Better than you have since—Well, since you got back from your… vacation, I guess.”

“I suppose there’s no snappy way to say, ‘time when you weren’t coming into work because your boss framed you for murder and the cops wanted to kill you,’” Jon quips. “But yes. I feel better.” He lifts the statement on his desk. “Feels like we’re finally making progress towards something.”

“And your hand, and—It’s all healing well?” Martin asks.

Jon nods, flexing his hand slightly beneath the bandages. “I think I’m starting to get a bit of feeling back? Which is probably a good sign.”

“Probably,” Martin agrees. “I still think you should’ve gone to A&E.”

Jon nods, a little embarrassed. “Yes, well… if it gets worse, I’ll take your advice.”

“Alright,” Martin says. “Well, I’ll let you get back to it.” And then he leaves, smiling because, for the first time in recent memory, Jon actually seems as fine as he claims to be.

Jon wants to scream. He wants to curl up beneath his desk, arms wrapped around himself in some semblance of comfort. He wants to be held—Martin or Georgie or Tim, or someone. He wants the release of it, warm arms grounding him as he shakes apart entirely. He wants to beg the others to please, please help him.

Instead, he smiles at them when he sees them in the break room, when he asks them to look into certain details for him. He sits in his office, calmly reading statement after statement, finding as much information about the Unknowing as possible. He goes home and watches movies with Georgie, and laughs at all the right parts. None of it is his choice, and he is so, so scared. Scared of what the Web is planning. Scared that he will be nothing but a puppet for the rest of his life.

It’s strange, being so constantly terrified, but showing no physical symptoms of fear. His heart rate is normal. His hands and voice are steady.

It doesn’t escape his notice that they all like him better, like this. Unburdened by the weight he carries with him. He desperately wishes for one of them to notice that it’s wrong, that he’s wrong, but he knows they won’t. Even if they did notice, he isn’t certain they would want him to go back to what he was before.

It’s almost a relief when Breekon and Hope grab him. He chooses to fight them, kick out his legs uselessly as they tie him up and toss him in the back of their van. His heart is hammering, adrenaline firing. It’s exhilarating, but there’s no room to rejoice in his newfound freedom. He has to find a way out of this, but—

There is no way out. Nikola delights in reminding him of this, whenever she comes to see him. They tie him up in a dimly lit room, surrounded by horrifying mannequins that sometimes move. His binds are tight, as is the gag in his mouth, and though he can struggle against them, it’s clear he’ll never manage to wriggle out of them.

For a while, he expects someone to come rescue him. Maybe Annabelle, although if he really thinks about it, it’s more likely that the Web would simply manipulate someone else into coming. Maybe his assistants would come, if they can find him. (If they decide he’s worth rescuing.) He’s wanted by the Eye and the Web, and clearly that counts for something. Surely they wouldn’t just abandon him to be skinned alive by the Stranger.

But no one comes. It’s hard to keep track of time, but Jon knows it’s been a few weeks, at least. Long enough by far for a rescue party to come, if they ever planned on coming. He wonders if the Web is enjoying this, if this fear is Web-flavored enough for it. Maybe it set him up for this. Maybe it’s actively preventing him from escaping.

He’s allowed to cry now. He can even scream, if he wanted to, although the gag makes it kind of pointless. Nikola enjoys when he cries.

Michael comes, and then Helen replaces him, and Jon can see the spidercracks of the Web behind it. Helen opens her door to him, and even if he wanted to take his chances with the Stranger, the webs in his mind give him no choice but to accept her offer.

At least Helen only toys with him a little bit before depositing him back in his office.

He lays on the floor for a long time, staring at the ceiling, expecting at any moment for the vise-like grip of the Web to take hold of him once more. It keeps not happening. His breath starts to come faster and faster, so he forces himself to take deep breaths, but that only makes his shaky breathing sound louder in his ears. It’s all so loud, his breathing, his heartbeat. Even the electricity humming in the walls, the soft rattle of the air conditioner.

He brings a hand to his face, and his eyes are filled with tears that immediately start tumbling over his cheeks. A sob hitches in his chest, and he almost smiles. He’s wanted to have a breakdown for so long, and now—it’s almost pleasant, losing control of his emotions in the safety of his office. No one around to jeer and laugh at him. No spiderwebs forcing him to keep smiling.

Another sob hitches, and he suddenly feels much too exposed. He pulls himself under his desk, relishing the darkness, the smallness. He brings his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around himself. Lets himself cry, burying the sound as much as he can. He doesn’t want the others to hear.

The door opens, and he lets out a soft gasp, biting down on his sobs. He holds his breath, willing himself to be quiet, to not be heard, not be found. He’s petrified that being found will mean his break is over, will mean the Web comes back, invading his mind.

It’s Martin. He comes in, humming quietly, and sets something on Jon’s desk. He starts to leave, and then—

Jon suddenly takes a sharp inhale, unable to hold his breath any longer.

Martin’s footsteps pause, hesitantly.

Something in Jon’s brain—the spiderwebs, he knows—pulls at him to be quiet, to let Martin leave, to not bother him with this. But it’s been so long since Jon’s seen Martin, and he just—He just wants to see him. Even if it means he has to smile. Surely, surely Martin will see that something is wrong, won’t he? The thought brings fresh tears to his eyes, and he says, “Martin?” His voice is thick with tears and rough from disuse.

“Wha—Jon?” Martin says. His footsteps move quickly to the other side of the desk, and he crouches down. “Oh my god, Jon! What happened? Where have you been?”

“Circus got me,” Jon says with a watery smile. The Web hasn’t taken hold yet. And it’s so nice to see Martin, soft and warm and safe.

“This—this whole time, you’ve been with the Circus?” Martin says, sounding horrified.

Jon nods. “How long have I been gone?”

“A month,” Martin says. “Christ, are you alright?”

The spiderwebs tell Jon to send Martin away, to claim that he’s fine. But the compulsion isn’t as strong as it was before. It’s a request, not an order. And Jon is… He isn’t fine. He hasn’t been fine in a long time.

Besides, it’s not like Martin somehow missed the dirty tear tracks on his face.

“No,” he whispers, curling up tighter into himself. The shaking is back now. A month. A month of intruding hands rubbing lotion into his skin, constantly reminding him of their plans for him, telling him how much it would hurt, letting him hear the horrible screams of their other victims.

“Can I touch you?” Martin asks, and Jon nods.

Martin pulls Jon into his arms, both of them still partially under the desk. He’s warm, and his words are soft as he runs a soothing hand up and down Jon’s back. Jon buries his head in his chest, crying until he’s all wrung out, until nothing remains inside of him.

“Sorry,” Jon says, still sniffling slightly, his voice thick. There’s a damp patch on Martin’s shirt now, and Jon flushes a bit, looking at it.

“It’s alright, Jon,” Martin says, still holding on to him. He isn’t shifting impatiently, or acting like Jon should move away, so Jon doesn’t. He rests his head on Martin’s shoulder, exhausted, and Martin continues rubbing soothing circles into his back.

***

Jon wakes up on the cot in document storage, tucked in under several blankets. He spends a hazy moment wishing Martin were there with him, and then the spiderwebs re-exert themselves in full force and he is getting out of bed. Well. He hardly expected the break to last forever. He was lucky to get this much, really. The terror has lessened, and it feels like he can think in a straight line for once.

He heads out of document storage and towards the break room. It’s dark in the Archives. Everyone has left for the day, except for Martin, who didn’t want to leave Jon alone. He’s run out to fetch them both dinner, and will be back shortly.

The Web steers him to the utensil drawer, which is a disorganized mess, as always. He thinks about his feelings for Martin as he digs through it, the deep fondness he feels for him. He’s still holding on to a bit of hope that Martin will save him from this, he realizes.

He finds a knife, and pulls it from the drawer, and suddenly he is very focused on what the Web wants from him. He sets the knife on the counter, and then rolls up his left shirt sleeve. With horror sinking into his gut, he sets his arm on the edge of the sink, picks up the knife again in his right hand. He holds it firmly, tight enough that it makes his newly-healed scar ache.

He knows what’s about to happen. He tries to stop it, but it’s like trying to stop gravity. His hand doesn’t so much as tremble as he slices into the soft skin just below his elbow.

He lets out a cry of pain, or fear, but continues to carve into his arm with the tip of the knife. He’s cutting deep into his flesh, and he doesn’t want to look as blood pours out of him. But he can’t look away.

After an eternity, Jon is finally allowed to drop the knife. It clatters into the sink, leaving a trail of blood droplets behind it. He stares at the wound for a second. Even obscured as it is by blood, he can tell it’s a spiderweb. A message. A punishment.

He feels suddenly nauseous, salt flooding his mouth, and he sinks to the floor, breathing deeply, trying not to be sick. There is so much blood.

A soft pull at his mind, almost gentle. Don’t let Martin see.

He doesn’t want to know what the Web will do to him, if he refuses. There isn’t much time before Martin gets back, so he has to hurry.

He’s still dripping blood everywhere, so that’s the first step. Stop the bleeding. The first aid kit is nearby, well-stocked as always. He grabs it down from the shelf, and then wets a few napkins, which he uses to clean off as much of the blood as possible. It hurts, and he has to sit down before he finishes. It’s a bit tricky, wrapping his own arm in gauze, especially with his right hand injured as well, but he manages, adding layer after layer until he can no longer see the blood soaking through.

He rolls his sleeve down. The bulk of the gauze is visible through his shirt, but hopefully Martin won’t notice something he isn’t looking for.

Jon wipes down the table, the floor, the sink, until he can no longer see any blood anywhere. He washes the knife and drops it back in the drawer. And then he sits down, taking deep, even breaths. He should probably go lay down again, but he doesn’t think he can make it all the way back there. Not on his own.

He puts his head down, and a few minutes later, he hears the stairs creaking with Martin’s return. He hears his footsteps receding as he heads towards document storage, hears the soft creak of the door. And then the steps get louder, until Martin pokes his head into the break room.

“Oh, there you are,” he says, a relieved smile on his face. “Sorry for leaving you. I didn’t think you would wake up. I brought dinner,” he says, holding up the bag of takeout clutched in his hands.

Jon smiles in return. “The Eye told me,” he says.

“Oh, that’s—creepy,” Martin says.

“Sorry,” Jon says, his eyes flicking back to the table.

“It’s fine,” Martin says, sitting down across from him. “How are you feeling?”

The Web isn’t controlling him, but it hardly matters. “I’m fine,” he says. “Feeling better.”

***

They finish eating, and Martin insists on staying the night with Jon in the Archives. He insists that Jon sleep on the cot, even though the break room couch is much too small for Martin to sleep on comfortably.

Jon wakes up, and the fresh wound on his forearm has bled through the gauze, staining not only his shirt sleeve, but also the rest of his shirt. He’s covered in blood, so much that he can’t possibly hide it.

And he can hear Martin, already awake and moving around in the Archive.

Jon stands up, trying to decide what to do. If Martin sees the blood, he will ask questions, and there is no good way to explain the design so intricately carved into Jon’s arm. He needs fresh gauze, and a fresh shirt, but his extra clothes are in his office, and the first aid kit is in the break room.

He decides to make a break for his office, wrapping a blanket around his shoulders to hide any blood Martin might spot. Before he can move, however, the door to document storage opens, and Jon freezes.

“Hey Jon, I wanted to ask—” Martin stops, and for a moment they’re just staring at each other. Martin opens his mouth again, panic writ large on his face. “Jon, is that blood? What happened?”

“I—um—”

“Was it the Circus?” Martin asks, stepping closer. Jon flinches away from him, and he stops. “Okay, just—Jon, that looks really bad.”

“Yeah,” Jon manages, his voice coming out in an almost-laugh. Martin’s look of concern only grows deeper.

There’s no way for Jon to salvage this, no explanation that Martin will accept. Martin can’t know about this, can’t know about any of this. The Web might hurt him, if he becomes a danger to it.

And then—

He suddenly can see the exact strings he needs to pull in Martin’s mind, to make him ignore this. It’ll be easy. Martin won’t even know he’s done anything.

It’s the only option.

For the first time, Jon uses the spiderwebs. Martin’s eyes go blank and glassy for a single horrifying moment. And then he blinks, and looks at Jon. Jon is still covered with his own blood, but Martin doesn’t notice it at all. He looks vaguely confused for a second, before he gathers himself. “Sorry, lost my train of thought,” he says with a small laugh. “I was going to ask if you wanted to go get something for breakfast. I know you usually just skip it, but there’s a nice cafe not to far from here, and I thought it would be… good.”

Jon wants to cry. He wants to tell Martin everything, ask for his help. But Martin can’t help him. Asking will do nothing but hurt both of them.

Instead, Jon smiles. “Sounds wonderful,” he says.

#tma #tma fanfiction #febuwhump #febuwhumpday1 #my fic #self harm cw #blood cw #kidnapping cw

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ollieofthebeholder · 3 years

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

Read from the beginning on Tumblr | Also on AO3

Chapter 59: Statement of what comes now.

[CLICK]

[PANTING BREATHS, ECHOING SLIGHTLY, THAT SLOWLY EVEN OUT]

JON

Wh-what…what…?

Martin! Martin, where—where are you? I can’t—oh, God, I can’t see anything, I can’t—did that—

(in a different tone of voice) Martin? Are you here?

[ECHOING SILENCE]

JON

…Okay. Okay, this—this isn’t reality. This isn’t—he’d be here if I was—

Right. Okay.

(more loudly) Hello? Hello, is anyone out there?

[MORE SILENCE]

JON

W-wait…wait, is that—there’s something—okay, okay, I’m not blind, it’s just…dark. I can cope with that.

Right, okay. Think, Jon. After what you just did…if you’re not in the Institute, if you’re not in the world you’re used to, then you’re probably…somewhere else. So things are going to follow dream logic, right?

Right. Dream logic. (sigh) So I suppose I go looking for a switch.

[ODD CHITTERING, BUZZING NOISE THAT SUDDENLY STOPS]

JON

Oh, for—there has got to be away around this. No light switch, no walls, and I don’t trust the floors, so…

What am I supposed to do, say “Let there be light”?

[LOUD THUNKING NOISE, LIKE SOMEONE SWITCHING ON STAGE LIGHTS, OR AT LEAST A SPOTLIGHT]

JON

Seriously?

(frustrated sigh) Well, at least I can see now. I—wait. What in the—who’s there?

[A VOICE BEGINS SINGING SLOWLY, FAINTLY AT FIRST BUT SLOWLY GETTING LOUDER]

ANNABELLE

One elephant went out to play Upon a spider’s web one day She had such enormous fun She called for another elephant to come…

JON

You have got to be kidding me.

(resigned sigh) Right, here we go…

[ODD NOISE STARTS UP AGAIN, PUNCTUATED BY STICKY RIPPING SOUNDS, FADING IN AND OUT AS IF RESPONDING TO PRESSURE…OR FOOTSTEPS]

ANNABELLE

Hello, Jon.

JON

Annabelle Cane. Why am I not surprised?

ANNABELLE

You don’t sound pleased to see me.

JON

Let’s just say yours is not the first face I wanted to see when I woke up.

ANNABELLE

I have good news for you, then. It isn’t. You’re not awake.

JON

Oh, you can invade dreams now too, can you?

ANNABELLE

You aren’t asleep, either. And I think you already knew that.

JON

Oh, goddammit.

[A MOMENT OF SILENCE, SAVE THE FAINT ODD CHITTERING NOISE]

JON

…Wait. That noise, that’s—

And it gets louder every time we—

[CHITTERING SUDDENLY GETS LOUDER, WITH A FEW CLEAR WORDS HERE AND THERE, THEN FADES AGAIN]

JON

Are these tapes?

ANNABELLE

A fine material to spin a web with, don’t you think?

JON

It’s you.

A-all this time, all these—the recorders, the, the tapes…it’s all been you?

ANNABELLE

Well, not all me. Not all of it, anyway.

The Mother of Puppets has always collected stories. There are more reasons than one it’s called spinning a tale, you know. And spiders…it’s so hard to keep them out of places. People don’t generally call exterminators for them. Not for only one or two, and not if they don’t seem dangerous.

So yes. The Web has been lurking about the Magnus Institute, and the Archives, nearly as long as there has been an Institute. Listening. Drawing from the stories. Weaving a tapestry that tells the history of the world…and its future.

But this web? This one is mine.

JON

The tapes I recorded…

ANNABELLE

Oh, yes. All the tapes since you became the Archivist are here. Listen to this!

[A SQUEAL, THEN A CLEAR PLAY OF THE TAPE FROM MAG 000.2 - PRE-LAUNCH TRAILER]

ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

It’ll get you too. You can stare all you want, make your notes and your inquiries, but all your beholding will come to nothing. When the time arrives, and all is darkness and butchery, you’ll wish you had stopped listening and run.

[ANOTHER STICKY SOUND, LIKE SOMEONE PULLING OFF AN ADHESIVE BANDAGE]

JON

(shocked) That—that was—I only did that one as a test, to—to see if the recorders would work…

ANNABELLE

And they did. Admirably.

Go on. Try one.

JON

Look, I don’t—

ANNABELLE

You’re curious, aren’t you? You want to know.

There is no time here. Not really. No hurry. No pain. Nothing can hurt you if you indulge your curiosity a little bit. And it might not be so easy to believe once you leave.

Pick a strand. All you have to do is touch it, like so—

[ANOTHER SQUEAL, AND THEN ANOTHER RECORDING BEGINS TO PLAY FROM MAG 22 - COLONY]

MARTIN ON TAPE

—wasn’t anything to do with spiders that ended up after me. Almost wish it had been. (nervous laugh) I like spiders. Big ones, at least—

[RECORDING CUTS OFF WITH STICKY SOUND AGAIN]

ANNABELLE

—and you can hear them.

JON

He doesn’t anymore, you know.

ANNABELLE

Like spiders? Oh, believe me, I know.

I don’t think he’s liked them since he found out what happened to you. Not that I can blame him, of course. How do you feel about clowns these days? Or being alone?

JON

I—

ANNABELLE

Go on, Jon. Touch one. It doesn’t have to be…fresh.

JON

Why are some of these—

Is that…ash?

ANNABELLE

Dust, mostly.

(considers) Well, some of it might be ash. It depends on why that section of web isn’t used anymore.

JON

(tartly) I didn’t know being obscure and mysterious was in the Web’s domain.

ANNABELLE

It is if you want to manipulate somebody who’s addicted to knowledge.

Oh, don’t look at me like that. I’m not trying to manipulate you. It’s just a habit at this point, really.

JON

…Fine.

[A COUPLE OF CAREFUL STICKY, CHITTERING FOOTSTEPS, THEN A SOFT SQUEAL BEFORE A RECORDING SHARPENS IN, FROM MAG 134 - TIME OF REVELATION]

PETER ON TAPE

What does—puzzle me though, and I mean that genuinely, is—why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin while Jon was in there. (brief pause) It’s a question, Martin, it’s—it’s not an accusation.

MARTIN ON TAPE

I don’t know. And I just – felt like it might help. He’s always recording, and I thought it—it might help him…find his way out.

PETER ON TAPE

Interesting. Were you compelled?

MARTIN ON TAPE

I don’t know. Maybe? I-I, I definitely wanted to do it.

[RECORDING FADES OUT ON THE LAST WORD]

JON

(shocked) Th-that, that was—that hasn’t happened, that didn’t happen…

ANNABELLE

This time.

JON

You knew? When, when I met you at Hill Top Road, when you…you knew I’d come back from the future.

ANNABELLE

Of course.

You and Martin, your Martin, you came back after Jonah Magnus made you end the world. The Keeper of the Light led you to a door, that led you through some halls, that led you to another door, that led you…back. To get—

JON

—a second chance.

ANNABELLE

A second chance? Hardly.

JON

And just what is that supposed to mean, exactly?

ANNABELLE

Only that.

JON

…Fine. F-fine. Be mysterious and vague. See if I care.

[ANNABELLE LAUGHS KNOWINGLY]

JON

How do you know…the tapes. You just told me you’ve been listening to the tapes. Martin made his statement about those halls—

ANNABELLE

But you didn’t.

You haven’t talked about what your journey was like to anyone, have you? Not even Martin. He knows you came through the same halls, but not what you saw. He doesn’t know that for you, there were no colors and no changes, that every hallway was the same and there was no way to tell when you were getting closer, until you reached that long tunnel.

The one with the glass walls and ceiling, like an underwater aquarium. With dark shapes you couldn’t make out pressing against the outside, trying to get your attention. With thousands of whispering voices, over one another, so hard to make out, pleading, promising, coaxing. Offering you anything you desired if you would only make it stop, blaming you for their suffering, demanding how you could just walk on by as if—

JON

Stop.

ANNABELLE

You didn’t know you were recording, either. You’ve grown so used to those recorders that you didn’t even notice them anymore. And yet, I was listening.

JON

You were—what?

Y-you—you’re from the future, too!

ANNABELLE

Mm. That’s more complicated than you think it is.

JON

How did you know what we were doing?

ANNABELLE

Because I set it in motion.

JON

…You…you what? Those halls, that—that portrait gallery, that—

ANNABELLE

Which one?

JON

Which—both of them. The ones that—that Martin had to face.

You said you listened to the tapes, you—

ANNABELLE

I did. And I was…shadowing you both, I suppose.

You never wondered how I was at Salesa’s, did you? Not why I was there, how I was there.

JON

I…to be honest, I don’t remember much about those days.

ANNABELLE

I don’t mean while you were there. I mean after. You never thought about how I could have ended up outside my own domain, let alone outside the Apocalypse altogether.

JON

I tried to think about you as little as possible.

ANNABELLE

(heh) I’d be hurt if I didn’t understand completely. I suppose if I’d been lucky enough to escape the Spinner of Webs, I’d want nothing to do with any of her children either.

But you know the rules of the Apocalypse, Jon. It never occurred to you to wonder how a Watcher could stray from their domain?

JON

Martin did. And Helen. They both—

[STATIC CRACKLES; IT’S THE ARCHIVIST’S STATIC, BUT IT SOUNDS UNUSUAL IN A WAY THAT’S DIFFICULT TO PINPOINT]

JON

The Distortion never truly left its domain. Never went far from its doors. And while the domains we saw Helen in were seemingly those of other fears, they all had at least an element of the Spiral in them.

Martin was in the unique position of being both Watcher and Watched. He had the domain he oversaw, small though it was, but he was also, perhaps, the only sufferer in a domain that belonged to me as me and not me as the Eye itself. He could walk the world unharmed because what hurt him was watching my pain and power grow in equal measure, the suffering of not knowing what I would choose in the end.

And you…

Your domain was like Daisy’s. It was the other domains, woven through them like a silken thread, a subtle tug of manipulation. It was the tapes that kept recording our journey and the tugs that led us to people we tried to help or conquer and a thousand tiny maneuverings to keep us moving ahead.

[STATIC FADES; JON GASPS SLIGHTLY]

JON

That…that shouldn’t have felt like that.

ANNABELLE

You’re a bit far from the Eye here. But to be fair, so am I.

JON

We’re in the middle of your fucking web!

ANNABELLE

But my web. Not the Web.

Any power the Mother of Puppets has here is residual, and comes through me. Any power the Ceaseless Watcher has here is residual, and comes through you. I brought the web to show you, to help you understand, but it doesn’t belong here any more than we do.

JON

You were—you were manipulating those tunnels. To…what? Slow us down?

ANNABELLE

To help. Well, you didn’t need it, but Martin…

JON

Martin is stronger than you think.

ANNABELLE

Do you know whose domain that was?

JON

The Spiral’s. Of course.

ANNABELLE

And the Eye. Together.

Together they hung that gallery of accusation, the paintings that all seemed to hold Martin responsible for their deaths. His friends, his family…strangers he never met but felt responsible for. Its purpose was to keep Martin lost—disorientated and in crippling pain and anguish. Forever.

If he had kept going down that corridor, he would never have found the door to the past. And the Keeper would never have been able to find him. Both of them had too much of the Lonely in them—just enough to keep them both isolated and searching. If they didn’t know where to meet.

JON

(whispers) My God.

They—they knew what we were trying to do. Of course they did. And they didn’t—

ANNABELLE

It’s not about foresight. Neither of them really have that. That domain was a mix of the Spiral and the Eye. It’s just what it was designed for, that’s all.

JON

That’s all? It was more than enough.

So which did you—

(with horrified realization) The paintings of me. You did that.

ANNABELLE

To remind him.

JON

Of what, for God’s sake?

ANNABELLE

In part, of what he had to prevent—what he had to stop from happening. What you’d been through and he had to make sure didn’t happen. In part, it was letting him experience your pain. He’d heard what you went through, of course, but to actually see it…in so many ways, that would make it worse, and make his determination stronger.

And, of course, part of it was just putting you back in his mind over everyone else. It was the last little…anchor tethering the two of you together, to the past. Something to keep him present so the Keeper could find him.

JON

And show him that last painting. Thankfully.

Did you know about that one?

ANNABELLE

I put that one there, too.

Surely you didn’t think the Keeper knew enough to have done it.

JON

I—n-no, no, but—

Why?

ANNABELLE

Why show it to him?

JON

Why that moment?

ANNABELLE

Because it wasn’t on tape.

I left you alone while you were in Scotland, up until the end. You two deserved a few weeks…unobserved. Alone together. To figure out what you are to one another.

Actually, I had quite a job keeping the Distortion distracted so it wouldn’t pop in and interrupt. It was something of a challenge.

The first time, anyway.

JON

The first time?

ANNABELLE

Oh, we’ve done this dance before. In its fashion.

JON

What dance?

ANNABELLE

The Apocalyptic Tango, I think Martin called it once.

[JON SIGHS IN EXASPERATION]

JON

Do you ever give a straight answer? Or tell the truth?

ANNABELLE

I’m hurt! I’ve been nothing but honest with you this whole time.

JON

(dry as the Sahara) And the other times?

ANNABELLE

Mostly you wouldn’t have believed me.

I did try a time or two. You always insisted it wasn’t possible, or that there must be some sort of catch. You only believed me once, and even then, I don’t think you believed. You simply wanted it to be true.

JON

Are you trying to get me to compel the truth out of you?

ANNABELLE

The way you did Peter Lukas? Or…which one was it? Breekon?

You don’t need to force it, you know. All you have to do is…ask nicely, and I will spin you the tale.

JON

…

Statement of Annabelle Cane, regarding the Web’s plan. Recorded direct from subject…ah…

ANNABELLE

At the end.

JON

…Statement begins.

ANNABELLE

This is the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

These are the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the hero that wielded the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

This is the story that begged to be told of the hero that wielded the blade that cut the web that cradled the Mistress that bore the hand that pulled the strings that moved the spider that peered at the truth that lurked in the hole that lay in the crack beneath the house at Hill Top Road.

Again, and again, and again, and again.

So few of the things that are Fear are gifted with foresight. The End, of course, knows what will come, because the End is inevitable. All things end, sooner or later. The Web cannot see the future but it can see…patterns. The threads of a story, and what they will be when they weave together.

When the Mother of Puppets first saw the crack beneath Hill Top Road, she thought she understood what it was. A hole in reality, a portal between universes. Places where fear had not touched, where it was not known. But then she saw it for what it was. A crack, not in space, but in time. A way to move between moments. And she began to plan For she saw the threads, and she knew that someday, someone would end the world. And when that happened…eventually, all would end. Even fear cannot last forever, in a world where nothing new is born. Eventually, all must end.

Her plan has been the same, for years. Generations. Choose a champion, mark them young. Put them in the path of a fear, and wait. Then, should the world end at the hands of that fear, tug that champion to cut the strings of fate and send all bound up in it through the crack…and back in time. Back in time enough that they could stop it.

And really, it should have worked.

To a point, it did work. Again, and again, and again, and again. Jonah Magnus sent you his ritual, you read it, the world came to an end. You tried to repair it. You walked to London…and there it got complicated.

The trouble is the Spinner’s plan depended, in the end, on your choice. We told you that you would have had to simultaneously blow up the Archives and stab Jonah Magnus, and then all would have been thrown back in time. In truth, that would not have worked—not if Jonah was still the Eye’s Pupil. It had to be you. You had to choose to take his place…and then have the tethers cut. Then, and only then, would you be sent back with the knowledge to alter things.

Sometimes I told you the original story, that it was a crack in reality and would send all the fears somewhere else, or scatter them across worlds. Once or twice I told you the truth. As I said, it was so hard for you to believe me, regardless of what I spun. Mostly you thought I was manipulating you, lying to you, trying to get you to doom a thousand other worlds. Occasionally you thought it would end the world faster. Only once did you believe me—in a time when I came to you in a cabin in what was once Scotland, a time when I knew you would not act if you did not know you could turn back time, a time when the man you loved turned back for his umbrella and understood what he was hearing and tried to save you and the world.

JON

No…

ANNABELLE

It never quite worked, in the end. Time and again, the strings would be cut, the world would snap back…and time and again, we would retread the same paths. Over and over. So little I could change, so little I could do differently before the Apocalypse and I tried to find a new way to get you to be in position to be dragged back.

Finally, finally, it happened. You tried to take Jonah Magnus’ place, to hasten the end and starve the fears…it would never have worked, of course, but you tried. Martin anticipated it, though, he tried to stop you before you killed Jonah, to delay you while the others lit the fuse. You were faster than he thought, though, and had already become the Pupil of the Eye. You told him to go. To save himself. But Martin would not leave you, despite the danger. Rather than watch him die for nothing, you told him to cut the tether. And he did.

It worked the way the Web intended, of course it did. But for you to remember and be able to fix it, you would have both had to be alive when you came through at the other side. Even one of you would have been enough. But when I woke again and plucked the strand of the Web, I could hear that neither of you remembered.

Neither of you had survived.

[JON MAKES A PAINED NOISE OF DISTRESS]

ANNABELLE

It was then that I realized that Mother’s plan depended too heavily on precise timing. She wanted me to try again, of course. Strangely enough, the Fears never knew it had happened, not even the Web. But she reminded me, again and again, about her plan, told me what strings to pull.

This time, though…this time I thought I’d try something a bit different.

I did what I have done every other time. I stayed with Salesa, I spoke to you both. I followed your progress through the tapes, and when you disappeared beneath the tunnels…I acted. As I promised him, I killed him, and I took his camera. I brought it to London, to the Institute…to the Panopticon. But this time, I brought it up to the belly of the beast. I took it to the office of Jonah Magnus.

The camera wasn’t strong enough to dispel the entire Apocalypse there, of course. But it created enough of a hole to break Jonah free of the Eye’s hold.

He was as pleased to see me as you might expect. Demanded to know what I was doing there. And I told him. I told him I had come to warn him.

JON

What?!

ANNABELLE

I told him that his precious Archivist was far from resigned to this new world he had brought about, that he was coming to stop it. To stop him. I said that you were bringing Martin with you and that you had a plan, and if he wanted to continue his reign, he’d best do something to stop it.

JON

Did you have any idea what that something would be?

ANNABELLE

Patterns. Of course I knew.

Jonah would never have harmed you, even if he could have; he still hoped to get you on his side. As you learned tonight. On the other hand, he would have known, or at least guessed, that the only thing stopping you from joining him was Martin. And even if he couldn’t hope to win you over by separating you…he would at least have found a way to use that bond against you.

JON

(shouting) Martin could have died because of you!

ANNABELLE

Perish the thought! My dear Jon, do you know know how many times I’ve been through this loop?

Even when I filled him with spiders, there has never been a time you could bring yourself to harm him in the slightest, let alone kill him. Faced with a choice between letting him die or getting revenge, I knew you would save him. Of course he wouldn’t have died.

[JON SPUTTERS INDIGNANTLY]

ANNABELLE

And I made sure you had somewhere to recover. I had already nudged the Keeper towards that door.

He couldn’t have done it, of course; he was too tightly bound to the Light—not the Lonely, not the fear he watched over, but the Light itself. If it fell, so would he, and he cannot leave it for long. Even if he had come back, he would have been unable to make a difference in anyone’s past. But of course he thought of the Archivist. His godson. And when you thought Martin might be taken from you, you experienced the precise fear that summoned one of his doors—the fear of being forever separated from the one you love.

Perhaps the original plan would have worked eventually. Perhaps someday you, or Martin, or both of you, would have survived long enough to awaken in the past and remember. But I think it’s better this way, don’t you? Much more…direct.

And look how much you’ve spared the others from.

JON

The others—G-Georgie, Melanie, Basira—in, in that timeline, the one Martin and I left. Did they…what happened to them?

ANNABELLE

The Keeper and I took care of that. Don’t worry.

After he saw you safely through, I introduced myself to him and told him what needed to happen. He fetched Basira and took her to the tunnels beneath the Institute, and then I came myself. I told them what Jonah had done, what you had done, and what they needed to do.

I gave them the choice. The same one I often gave you. I told them they could either…let things stay as they were, allow things to die out in time, and keep apart from it, or end it. Take out Jonah Magnus and blow up the Institute simultaneously, and send all the Fears back in time as well—the Fears, and any of us too tightly bound up in them to survive without them.

I know you won’t believe me, Jon, but I never influenced them to make the choice they did. Basira did ask me what they usually chose, and I did tell her that I had never known them to choose anything other than one option, but I didn’t tell her what it was. I knew it would be important for you to know that, whatever they chose, it was their decision and their decision alone.

JON

(heh) I can’t imagine Melanie not choosing the option that allows her to kill Elias.

[ANNABELLE LAUGHS]

ANNABELLE

Neither can I. And she didn’t choose differently.

As I understand it, Melanie made her way up alone—being blind, of course, the fearful things on those stairs could not affect her—while Basira provided a distraction and Georgie lit the gas aflame. Melanie took the camera and aimed it at Jonah Magnus to bring him down, and then while he tried to belittle her, she stabbed him, just as the building blew.

JON

And then what happened? Did they survive?

ANNABELLE

I don’t know. But they succeeded, or I wouldn’t be here.

JON

…

How many others has the Web done this to? Tried to—manipulate into a savior?

ANNABELLE

Oh, I don’t know. Hundreds?

Most of them would have failed. Many never made it beyond her. I was one of them, actually, a child tested out but ultimately found lacking, although I was the only one I think she would have trusted with this. But you…the Mother of Puppets saw the threads of your life. So many Fears noticed you as a child that you were bound to fall afoul of one of them eventually. And as soon as she realized where Jonah Magnus’ thoughts were trending, and where they would eventually lead, she knew that you would be a perfect candidate to complete the ritual in the end.

So she chose you. She lured you in. And you resisted her pull. She knew then that you would be the only one strong enough to succeed.

JON

I only survived because someone else took my place! I would have died if he hadn’t—

ANNABELLE

My dear Jon. Has anyone meant to be claimed by a power ever actually handed away a book or an artifact willingly?

Had you been meant to be the Spinner’s in the end, Mitchell Hopkins would never have been able to take that book from you, let alone read it. Mister Spider was a test, a test that you passed.

A test I never would have.

JON

…

…Was that his name? Mitchell?

ANNABELLE

It was.

It is.

And now you know everything.

[A FEW MOMENTS OF SILENCE, SAVE THE TAPES CHITTERING IN THE BACKGROUND]

JON

I—I suppose I should be grateful that we don’t remember all of…these. All these…cobwebs.

I’m damned grateful I don’t remember—

ANNABELLE

I must admit, that was a bad one.

JON

Getting through that…it was hard enough with Martin. I don’t—I don’t see how I did it alone.

Especially after—especially knowing I—

Did I know?

ANNABELLE

…

You spent far longer at Salesa’s that time than you did any other time. In the end, I had to go with you almost all the way to London.

…Yes. You knew.

Not at the time. Not when it happened. But the Eye made sure you Knew the details in the end. You ran into Basira and she asked where Martin was—

JON

—and the Beholder forced me to describe it.

ANNABELLE

You said yourself, more than once. None of this has ever been to the benefit of humanity. Or any individual human.

JON

Or whatever I—whatever we are.

ANNABELLE

What defines a human, anyway? The limitations, or the abilities?

We can do more than what an ordinary human can. But we can still do all the things that an ordinary human can, too. We think. We feel. We love, Jon.

As far as I’m concerned, that makes us human.

JON

…Who do you love, Annabelle?

ANNABELLE

I was the first to hold him. Did you know that? I was staying with Harry and his wife while I was at university, just before I took part in that study. They wanted someone to read to him before he was born, so he would learn the stories. Harry worked late, trying to make a better life for them all, and Elizabeth…well, she was blind, so she could tell stories fine, but she wanted him to hear books too. Every night, after dinner, I’d sit and read to her belly. He came early and Harry didn’t get to the hospital in time, so after Elizabeth, I was the first one to hold him.

Harry picked out his first name because he knew I hated that book. Elizabeth softened it by picking a middle name after me, but…she always called him Charlie. I think she knew, even then.

A couple years after I became part of the Web, the Desolation took Harry, probably to spite me, but…Harry was never the one I cared about. Elizabeth, at least, died as peacefully as anybody can. It may not have been pleasant, or timely, but at least it wasn’t to serve a power. Just bad luck.

…

Get him away from that grandmother of his if you can, will you?

JON

One of us will.

ANNABELLE

That’s all I ask.

JON

Well, I—I suppose, in light of all that’s happened…it’s the least I can do.

ANNABELLE

You believe me, then?

JON

It happened. It’s over.

Whether once or a hundred times…it happened the way you said at least once. And we won. That’s enough for me.

…Yes, Annabelle Cane, I believe you.

ANNABELLE

For what it’s worth, Jon, you did all the hard work on your own. You and Martin, and…the others. In your time and this. All I did was get you here.

JON

The others…

(sharp intake of breath) Oh, God. The Unknowing. Has it—have they—I-I can’t, even if we were in the Panopticon, I couldn’t See it. But you—there, there were tapes.

Are they…?

ANNABELLE

That one. I think.

JON

You think?

ANNABELLE

It added itself to the web just before you got here. It’s either theirs or yours.

[BRIEF PAUSE, THEN THE SQUEAL OF TAPE BEFORE A RECORDING PICKS UP - FAINT CIRCUS MUSIC, THUMPS AND TAPS THAT MIGHT BE SOME KIND OF FOOTSTEP, FLOORBOARDS CREAKING, SHALLOW BREATHING, FABRIC RUSTLES]

PRESENT ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

I love you.

PRESENT MARTIN ON TAPE

I love you.

TIM ON TAPE

I love you.

Tell me when.

[DEEP BREATH]

PRESENT ARCHIVIST ON TAPE

Three…two…one…

[MORE FABRIC RUSTLES, DETONATOR CLICKS, EXPLOSION BEGINS BEFORE ABRUPTLY CUTTING OFF]

JON

Oh, God.

ANNABELLE

And to think I thought you had a terrible sense of timing.

JON

At least they said something before—

O-oh, God, Tim. Tim—you know as well as I do that in my time, he—and I—were they all in the middle of that?

ANNABELLE

More or less.

They didn’t walk into the Unknowing, at least. Martin listened to what you told him and wouldn’t let them open any doors. But it had to be blown up from the inside to be sure of getting all the charges. Your counterpart and Martin’s wouldn’t leave Tim behind, however much he tried to make them.

JON

What happened after that?

ANNABELLE

I don’t know if there is an after that yet.

JON

And we’re back to the cryptic bullshit.

ANNABELLE

On the contrary. I said exactly what I meant.

We aren’t exactly anywhere right now, or any when. This…place…I wouldn’t call it a domain, but it exists outside of both time and space. The rules are different here. Time, if it passes at all, passes differently.

They might have just pressed the detonator. They might have pressed it hours ago, or days ago.

JON

(dismayed) Days?

ANNABELLE

All I can say is that wherever, whenever they are, they are out of reach of my tapes. And your sight.

Fortunately…I know someone who can give us those answers, even from here. Maybe especially from here.

JON

Who else is here, for God’s sake?

[ANNABELLE SINGS THE NEXT LINE IN THE SAME SLOW, MEASURED VOICE AS BEFORE]

ANNABELLE

Two elephants went out to play Upon a spider’s web one day They had such enormous fun They called for another elephant to come…

[STICKY FOOTSTEPS APPROACH OVER THE TAPE WEB]

OLIVER

Hello, Jon. It is all right if I call you Jon?

JON

…Oliver? Oliver Banks?

OLIVER

In the…well. In the manifestation, I suppose. I don’t know if any of us is here in the flesh.

JON

(disbelieving laugh) You’re…not quite what I expected.

OLIVER

Is that an invitation for me to comment about how Death so rarely is what we expect, or a manifestation of you wondering why Martin would possibly be jealous of someone like me?

ANNABELLE

If you knew either of them a little better, you’d know Martin’s reasons for being jealous are almost entirely in his head.

Also, he’s never met you.

OLIVER

Mm, true. We always seemed to miss one another.

JON

You—hold on. You’re from the future as well?

OLIVER

Like you and Annabelle. Well, more like Annabelle, I suppose. You had to be the Pupil of the Eye before you were tangled enough to get dragged back with the Fears. Me? Without Terminus, I’m just…dead. And we’ve already established that that’s not where I want to be.

JON

…Did you know? When you came to the hospital?

OLIVER

That we’d done this before? Of course. I long ago stopped being surprised at what you would choose.

JON

Then for God’s sake, why—

OLIVER

Because you had to choose, Jon. It was always your choice.

Think of it as a crossroads. You stood at a fork in the road, where one path would take you back to life and the other would take you on to, well, whatever came next. The trouble was that the signposts were covered.

You could have chosen without knowing which path was which, but that’s not your way. Not when you know enough to know that one was…mm, wrong, shall we say? One would have led you where you wanted to be, one where you didn’t.

JON

I didn’t want to die.

OLIVER

There’s a difference between not wanting to die and having something to live for.

JON

(deep breath) Right, well, I definitely have something to live for, so I’ll be going now.

Uh, how do I get out of here?

OLIVER

Ordinarily? You don’t.

JON

What?!

OLIVER

This is Terminus’s realm. Well, sort of. A little pocket on the outside edge of it.

JON

Another crossroads.

OLIVER

Mm, not so much. More that you’re standing in the middle of the path.

JON

So which way is back?

OLIVER

Life is a journey traveled in one direction only.

JON

(tartly) Yes, well, so is time, but here we all are.

I’ve already chosen to live, Oliver. (with slight malice) Can I call you Oliver?

OLIVER

(not rising to the bait) This isn’t a place where you get to choose.

JON

…So you’re saying that’s it.

After all that, after everything I—everything we did…this is the end. There’s nowhere else for me to go.

ANNABELLE

How many times have you walked out of another entity’s domain? Not counting the Apocalypse. We’ve already talked about how that doesn’t count.

JON

I…twice. The Buried and the Lonely.

Three, I suppose, if that crossroads counts.

OLIVER

That was a metaphor. You were close to Death, but not its realm. If that makes sense.

JON

Not really.

ANNABELLE

The Buried and the Lonely, then.

What brought you out?

JON

From the Buried, it was the—the tapes…it was Martin putting those tapes on top of the coffin. W-weaving me a rope…or a ladder.

The Lonely was simple enough to leave. The way out was together.

ANNABELLE

With Martin.

JON

…Yes.

ANNABELLE

Exactly.

Not all strands of a spider’s web are to capture or to control, you know. Sometimes, they are simply…to anchor.

JON

…

…That’s why you offered to bind me to Martin. It wasn’t about—it wasn’t for strength or power at all.

ANNABELLE

Not to defeat Jonah Magnus, no. There’s more than one kind of strength, more than one kind of power. I did tell you that you would need it to survive what was coming.

JON

It brought Martin back when Peter Lukas visited the Archives and he almost got swallowed by the Lonely again. It—it grounded me, kept me from losing control while I was taking down Jonah.

And now…

ANNABELLE

It can guide you home.

[OLIVER LAUGHS]

OLIVER

You know, people always talk about some legendary “red string of fate”, but I’ve never actually seen a real one before.

Let alone one woven from cassette tape.

JON

You knew I had that tether from the beginning.

OLIVER

Truthfully, I didn’t think it would work. Plenty of people have things they think are tying them to life, but they aren’t strong enough to resist the pull. Most threads snap.

JON

Not this one.

I made Martin a promise. And I never break my word.

OLIVER

A good thing, when your tether is almost literally made out of your words.

JON

Ha, ha.

…Wait. B-before I go…the Unknowing. Are they—she said you would know.

OLIVER

It’s over. It worked. They brought the house down.

A lot of tormented souls set free, all at once. Quite the rush, really.

JON

The three of them—my counterpart and Martin’s and Tim. What happened to them?

[OLIVER SIGHS]

OLIVER

Two of them will be fine. Some cuts and bruises, but they’ll be up and about sooner rather than later. They might already be up and about. Time’s difficult to discern here.

The other…I suspect I’m going to need to pay a visit at some point. Clean off those signposts.

JON

Don’t wait six months.

OLIVER

I shouldn’t be more than a couple weeks behind you.

JON

…That’s less comforting than you think it is.

OLIVER

Then it must be terrifying, because I was definitely going for ominous.

[JON SIGHS…AND LAUGHS RELUCTANTLY; ANNABELLE AND OLIVER LAUGH TOO]

JON

I suppose we’ll meet again, Annabelle.

ANNABELLE

…No. No, I don’t think we will.

JON

Tired of me already?

ANNABELLE

I was watching them for you. Not just through the tapes. I was lurking in a corner of that room.

I don’t know that I made it out.

OLIVER

(gently) You didn’t, I’m afraid.

Your choices are more limited. Stay here with your web…or see what comes next.

[A SHORT PAUSE]

JON

We’ll keep the recorders going.

In case you’re still listening.

ANNABELLE

…Tell Charlie his aunt loves him very much.

JON

I will.

Oliver…don’t take this the wrong way, but if I ever see you again, it will be too soon.

OLIVER

Death always comes too soon.

JON

That was definitely not meant for that aspect of you.

OLIVER

Fair.

ANNABELLE

Have a good life, Jon.

You and Martin deserve it.

JON

If I may borrow from another…may you find your rest where no shadows are cast, and no eyes may see you slumber.

ANNABELLE

(audibly smiling) From you, Jon, that is a true blessing.

[DEEP BREATH]

JON

Right. Hold on, Martin.

I’m coming home.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #leaves too high to touch (roots too strong to fall)#tma #the magnus archives #unreality tw #darkness tw #blindness tw (kinda)#manipulation tw #violence tw #explosions tw #death tw #implied mental torture tw #just...this chapter might be a Lot #the formatting's better on AO3 #holy shit I can't believe I'm almost finished

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haberdashing · 3 years

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Rising Up

A world in which Jon’s smoke break in MAG 199 goes differently.

on AO3

Georgie had tried to follow Jon when he went for his smoke break after their conversation... no, their argument. Jon hadn’t let her. He wanted to spend some time alone for once, think things through for his own sake somewhere more conducive to it than the tunnels.

It hadn’t been a lie, not really, not at the time. All Jon had set out to do was go off on his own for a bit, take in one last moment of solitude before the planning began in earnest, try to burn off a bit of his distaste for the plan the others had decided upon.

Just the same, though, Jon wasn’t terribly surprised when his feet led him not to London proper but to the stairs of the Panopticon, now left unguarded by Archivists save for the one that touched the wall for a long moment before making his way up the steps. Without Martin by his side, without being reminded that normal humans still had physical limitations that he had left behind when this whole thing started, it took Jon practically no time at all to arrive at the top.

Jon nodded silently at Rosie and tried his best not to drink in her terror as he made his way past.

Jonah Magnus was still floating in place, still occupying the body he had stolen from Elias Bouchard decades ago complete with a perfectly-tailored suit, still chanting words of terrible visions unfolding around the world and he saw nothing and everything all at once...

And Jon knew--Jon Knew--why he had come up here in the first place.

He couldn’t be part of implementing Annabelle’s plan, couldn’t live with the guilt of dooming countless worlds just to save the one he loved. Martin himself had pointed out that there might well be others like them in the world, and it wasn’t really going back on his promise if sacrificing one Jonathan Sims meant saving hundreds or thousands of others, was it?

Besides, there would be others out there who were like Jon not in name or appearance but in action, others who would be manipulated into dooming their own realities. Jon felt enough guilt about dooming his world; he couldn’t let that happen to anyone else, couldn’t let that guilt spread along with the Fears that brought it about.

Maybe Martin was right, maybe he was looking for a chance to martyr himself, but wasn’t that better than creating thousands of martyrs in thousands of worlds like their own?

Jon didn’t know for sure if the plan could or would go on without him, but at least this way he wouldn’t be part of it. At least this way he would be acting to make things better instead of worse.

The words came quickly and easily as soon as Jon steeled himself to speak them.

“Ceaseless Watcher, see this false ruler, this pretender to the throne. See his ecstasy and his suffering intermingled, how he lays claim over what is rightfully mine. Turn your gaze upon this wretched thing and make way for the true master of this realm to take his place.”

Jonah Magnus’ death wasn’t much of a spectacle. He twitched for a moment, just a brief second or two of writhing in agony before dispersing entirely, this body joining his original one in becoming little more than ashes in the wind.

And as one pupil of the Eye was destroyed, another had to take its place...

Jon could feel his feet lifting off the floor, could feel the Eye taking over his mind, but soon his was only one of many suffering minds competing for his attention, his feelings only some of the many sensations available for him to witness and record.

In his last moment of proper awareness as himself rather than as a tool of the Eye, Jonathan Sims hoped that the others would forgive him.

#tma #tma spoilers #the magnus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #tma 199 #mag 199 #seeing it through #personal #my writing

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bluejayblueskies · 4 years

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slipknot

Part 12 of Whumptober 2020

Fandom: The Magnus Archives Characters: Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood, Jonah Magnus, Basira Hussain Tags: Whump, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Depictions of Injury

Read on Ao3

“I am not a violent man,” Jonah says pleasantly as he increases the pressure he’s placing on Martin’s wrist just enough that the crack of snapping bones echoes off the stone walls surrounding them. Over Martin’s cry of pain, he continues, “However, I don’t like being threatened. You understand, don’t you, Jon?”

In a voice calm and controlled and just on the edge of breaking, Jon says, “Let him go.”

“Why don’t you,” Jonah says, with another sharp motion of his hand that has Martin sobbing, “put down the knife you’re currently holding over my heart. It may not strictly be my body anymore, but I’m still rather attached to it.”

“Jon, don’t—”

Martin cuts off with a choked scream as Jonah twists, and Jon tries very, very hard to fight against the Knowledge that Martin’s bone is now dangerously close to breaking through the skin of his wrist. “You,” Jonah hisses, the knife held in his free hand pressing more firmly underneath Martin’s chin, “are more trouble than you’re worth.”

Jon’s voice is significantly less calm and controlled as he says, “Okay! Just- just stop.” He hesitates, only for a moment, before pulling back from the lifeless, eyeless corpse that had once been Jonah Magnus whose heart still inextricably beats. “Now let him go.”

Jonah smiles thinly. “And drop the knife as well. If you would.”

Jon glances at Martin, who shakes his head, almost imperceptibly.

He drops the knife.

“Good, Jon. Was that so hard?” Jonah says with a hint of humor that makes Jon’s stomach turn.

In a low, dangerous tone, Jon says, “Let. Him. Go. I’ve done what you asked.”

“It didn’t have to be like this, you know,” Jonah says, like Jon hadn’t even spoken. “You have so much power here, Jon, in this world we’ve created. And Martin… well, you can keep him safe, can’t you? You can do so many things here. Get revenge. Get even. Use our patron to settle some old scores. Oh, don’t look quite so surprised—there isn’t anything in this world that I can’t see. Forgive me for… checking up every now and again.”

There are tears streaming down Martin’s face; Jon can’t stop looking at them, the knot in his throat growing tighter by the second. “I did what you asked—”

“As you always have,” Jonah says mildly; the point of the knife digs just a bit deeper into Martin’s throat. “Though perhaps not always to your knowledge. But the freedom you have now, Jon! The power! You can’t tell me that you’re not enjoying yourself, being able to walk freely in this world.”

Quietly, horrified, Jon says, “You’re not going to let him go.”

“I’m afraid that I don’t appreciate being manipulated a second time,” Jonah says tightly, all previous levity gone in an instant. “I’ve worked too hard to get to this moment for it to be ruined by any… loose variables. You should have considered that before you sought out my old body. Though you were never one for planning, were you?”

“You’re not…” Jon stares, desperately, at Martin, and it feels like the ground is crumbling under his feet. “You- you said you would—”

“Did I?” Jonah smiles humorlessly, and his eyes are focused on Jon—only on Jon. “Or did you just assume I did? Really, Jon, I would have thought by know you would have—”

A gunshot cracks through the air like a bolt of lightning, and everything turns upside down.

Jonah staggers back, the red blossoming on the left side of his chest mirroring the growing stain on the body on the ground from where the bullet had pierced a still-beating heart. The knife falls away from Martin’s throat, and the instant it leaves his skin, Martin’s gone, stumbling toward Jon with his arm hanging limply at his side. Jon’s hands immediately go to Martin’s face, then his neck, where a thin line of blood drips down from a mark that Jon knows, from experience, is going to scar.

Basira steps out of the shadows, gun in hand, and says, “Good thing it wasn’t Jon making the plan, then.”

“Do you- do you know what you’ve done?” Jonah gasps, his face a sickly white. “What- what do you think this is going to—”

He falls to his knees, hand stained crimson where it desperately clutches at his chest, and as Jon stares into his eyes, he thinks this might be the first time he’s seen Jonah truly scared. “This isn’t…�� Jonah says, barely more than a whisper. When his eyes turn glassy and he crumples, finally, to the floor, Jon knows he should feel relieved. Ecstatic, even.

He just feels sick.

A whimper escapes Martin, and Jon’s mind immediately snaps back to the present, to the unnatural angle of Martin’s wrist, to his slowly purpling skin. “Oh, Christ,” Jon says, and he reaches for Martin’s hand on instinct, stopping halfway when Martin shakes his head quickly, desperately. “I- I didn’t think he’d be able to- I- I should have Known that he’d be able to hurt you, I just—”

“Jon,” Martin interrupts, in a voice tight with pain. “It- it’s not your fault.”

Quietly, Jon says, “Isn’t it?”

“What? No, of course not! Why would—?”

“We should set that,” Basira says, and Jon’s not sure if the hard line of her mouth as she kneels down next to them is from the dead body lying less than three feet away or the conversation she’d interrupted. Maybe both. “Martin, you might want to hold onto something. With your non-broken hand! Christ, how did you survive for so long without me around?”

Martin grips Jon’s hand tightly, whimpering softly as Basira begins to set his wrist. “No, a- a little to the left,” Jon says at one point, when Basira doesn’t quite line the bones back together correctly, and he earns a glare for his trouble, but Basira makes the adjustment. “I’m sorry, Martin,” he says at another, when Basira begins the painstaking process of twisting Martin’s wrist back into place and Martin can’t help the sob that rips free from his throat. He squeezes Martin’s hand tighter, pressing a kiss to his knuckles, then gently to his temple. “I love you, so much.”

Martin tries to smile back, but it’s swallowed by a groan of pain as Basira begins to wrap his wrist in makeshift splints and white bandages. Jon appreciates the gesture just the same. “I love you too.”

“Done,” Basira announces, stiff and clinical in that way she gets when I love yous are exchanged. She pauses, and then says haltingly, “I… I’m sorry as well, Martin. Using you as bait, that was bad enough, but… Christ, I really didn’t think he was going to—”

She pinches her nose tightly. “At least,” she says tightly, “he’s gone. And we’re all fine.”

Jon tries not to Know that the people above them are still trapped, pinned under the weight of a thousand eyes. He tries not to Know that Annabelle Cane has left Upton House and is following the trail they’ve left—following them to the Panopticon. He tries not to Know that the world is still exactly as it was, and nothing’s really changed at all.

It comes to him anyway.

“Yeah,” Jon says, and he squeezes Martin’s hand tighter. “Yeah, we- we’re fine.”

He just wishes it didn’t feel so much like a lie.

#whumptober2020 #no.12 #broken bones #the magnus archives #fic #guns tw

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

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A Song of Praise Upon Your Lips (Let all the Broken Pieces Shine, Chapter Two)

Info: The Magnus Archives, D&D AU. JonMartin in this chapter, more ships to be added. Rated T. Post-Canon. Jon is amab nb and uses they/them, Martin is a trans guy.

CWs: Darkness, falling, spiders, manipulation, webs, implied body horror, character death (mentioned), alternate realities, character injury, fire.

Summary: In which Martin thwarts the Web's plan for good and all (or so one hopes) through the power of poetry. (The poem is the first and last stanzas of Kahlil Gibran's "On Love," from The Prophet, published 1923.)

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

Previous Chapter

They are falling through endless darkness. Martin holds Jon close to him and wonders how much longer this will take. Will he be in this darkness forever? Would it be so bad if he was?

“Time to let go,” a voice whispers. Feminine, soft, almost motherly, but threaded through with something like malice. “He is lost to you. Time to come back to me, my little spiderling.”

“No,” Martin whispers into the darkness. “No, I won’t let go. One way or another, together. That’s what we said.”

He can hear irritation in the voice. “Where he goes, you cannot follow. Where you belong, he cannot exist. You made your choices long ago. You cannot undo them now.”

“I’m not letting you take him from me!” Martin shouts it this time, and tightens his hold on Jon’s body. “I don’t care if I die, I’m not letting go!”

“Silly, stubborn spiderling. You are mine. You have served my purpose, all these years, and served it well. Do you truly think it was any coincidence you came to be by the Archivist’s side? The Whispered One, that you called Beholding… the power that should have gone to the Lone Wolf, that you called Forsaken… they may have tried to claim you, but you have always been mine, little spiderling, however much you twist and turn and try to deny the truth of what you are.”

Martin can see the speaker in his mind, even if his eyes are shut: from the waist up, a woman with ebony skin and white hair, but from the waist down… a spider. It’s impossible, he knows it’s impossible, because she’s from a game. And yet, still, he knows her name, and he speaks it into the void:

“Lolth?!”

A soft chuckle. “Yes, spiderling. I am the one that set you in that world, set you on the path to meet the Archivist. I am the one who ensured you would connect with the power of the Spider there, a power that is mine even if she did not know that fact until she has finally come falling down through the void between realms. She will add to my power, and she will become me and I will become her, and together we will usurp the other gods that would keep us trapped. We will spread our Web across every realm and every sphere.”

The woman seems to hold out a hand to Martin. “Come, spiderling. It is time to come home to me. I am your true mother, and I will love you better than your mortal mother ever did.”

“No,” Martin whispers again, horrified. This can’t be real. This is a horrific dream. Lolth is a fictional being that he has always been alternately repulsed by and fascinated with. She is a deity from a roleplaying game that he had stopped playing years ago, though largely for lack of anyone who would play with him.

And yet, it makes a horrendously cruel sort of sense. The Mother of Puppets has always reminded him of Lolth, a little bit. He thinks of Annabelle Cane and her desire to fill Martin with spiders. He thinks of his own tendencies to manipulate, his own love of spiders, of webs, even of fiber arts, of tying things in knots to keep them where he wants them to be. Of the way he spoke to the tape recorders the same way he spoke to the spiders he ran into--as pets, almost. As sweet, cute things to be loved.

He has known, for a long time, that if the Lonely had not claimed him the Web might have. He’s had dreams of turning into a spider, dreams he woke from screaming. Even if he likes spiders, he doesn’t want to become one. Sometimes he thinks he went to Peter as much to escape the fate he saw in his dreams as anything else he’s told himself.

A part of him wants to take the offered hand. To let go of Jon, and move forward to his own destiny.

But they made a promise. One way or another, together. It makes the decision easy.

Martin swallows. “No,” he says more firmly, opening his eyes. Lolth is there, only a dim outline in the darkness, but he can see her, vaguely. “I will not go with you. I’ve made my choice, I saw my Domain, and it wasn’t full of spiders.”

Anger flashes in Lolth’s dark eyes. “Foolish boy. Do you think I can’t make you come with me?”

“I think…” Martin pulls Jon closer to him. “I think you can, sure, but I also think…” He gathers himself, takes a deep breath, then presses on, “I think if it were that easy, you’d have done it already instead of trying to make me come willingly.” He’s thinking faster than he ever has in his life. There were no powers of good in their world, no Hope or Courage or Love to balance the Fears. But if this truly is Lolth, and not just his brain giving form to the Web, then maybe there’s a chance. Maybe there are good powers to draw on, out here in the dark between realities.

Maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can get one of them to listen.

“I never would have served the Eye, or the Lonely, or the Web, if I’d had another choice,” Martin spits into the void. “I would serve Beauty. I would serve Truth. I would serve Love.” He swallows, glares at the darkness, at the form he can just barely make out as his eyes adjust. “And you know that, don’t you? Wherever we’re going… those things have power, and you want me to come to you before I get beyond your reach.”

Lolth scoffs. “You would leave me, and go back to the Protector? He will not take you back, not in that form.”

Martin grinds his teeth. “I don’t care who, or… what it is I serve, I just know that it isn’t you,” he growls.

Martin feels a warmth building in him, a heat, a flame. It’s lighting up the darkness, letting him see Jon’s lifeless body and the tapes both. It lets him see Lolth, hovering out there in the void, lets him see that the tapes are connected to her. If he lets go, she’ll get Jon. That’s what this is about, he realizes. Whether or not she wants him, she definitely wants Jon, and Martin is keeping her from her prize.

“You don’t care about me,” he whispers. “You just want Jon’s body, to fuel whatever ritual you’re trying to do.”

Lolth almost smirks. “I would prefer to have you both, but I will settle for the Archivist alone. We made him, my sister and I, which means that I made him, because she is becoming me even as we speak. You have resisted me in the past, but the Archivist…? He is already mine. Has always been mine. Will always be mine.”

Martin glares at the spider-woman. “I’m not going anywhere Jon doesn’t go, and since I’m not letting you have him… I guess you don’t get either of us.”

“And how, exactly, do you intend to stop me, spiderling?”

There’s a tug on the tapes, and Martin screams as Jon is half-wrenched out of his arms. He clings, desperately, grabbing at the tapes, screaming louder as they cut into his hands. “No! No! Please, not now, I can’t lose him now!”

“Too late, spiderling.” Lolth’s smile is cruel. “It was always too late.”

He has to do something. He has to stop this. The heat and warmth and light within him needs somewhere to go, but it can’t just come out through his hands. He needs words, that’s who he is, who he’s always been. But what words? What words would help here?

It’s not Keats that comes to him, because it’s never Keats that comes to him in the moments of pain and terror--Keats is for joy, and longing, and elegiac melancholy in the rain. It’s Kahlil Gibran, whose words sustained him through Jon’s coma and his mother’s death and working for Peter Lukas. A poem about love, about divine love. He speaks the words into the void like a prayer, because whatever he’s doing is as much a prayer and a wish as anything else.

When love beckons to you, follow him, Though his ways are hard and steep. And when his wings enfold you yield to him, Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you. And when he speaks to you believe in him, Though his voice may shatter your dreams as the north wind lays waste the garden.

As he speaks, the fire grows. Not the cold fire of the Desolation but something warm and kind and loving. It fills him with joy, so that despite the nature of the words (For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning) his fear is banished and his terror soothed. His grip on the tapes surrounding Jon strengthens, and he begins to haul his lover back to him, away from the spider-woman.

Something like fear flickers in the goddess’ eyes. She says something, a negation, a denial, but Martin cannot hear her, because he is shouting now, stanza after stanza, the words and the prayer fueling the light and warmth within. He clutches Jon to his chest and grips the tape tightly.

He is intending to rip the tape binding Jon, to break the Web and free them both, but as he thinks of doing this, the flame within bursts out through his hand and burns through the tape surrounding Jon. The fire leaves both him and his lover untouched, but it consumes the tape. Martin can see the flame shooting off in every direction, unraveling the Web that Lolth had so carefully woven.

“No!” The goddess’ scream is so loud that Martin almost covers his ears, but that would mean letting go of Jon and that’s not happening. “No! I will not let you undo my work!” She lunges forward at them, to grab them both, or maybe just to try one last time to wrench Jon from Martin’s grasp.

Martin is surrounded by flame now, and he has a vague sense that his hair, long-since touched white by the Lonely, has abruptly shifted back to red and might actually just literally be fire right now. He holds out his hand, focusing not on Lolth but on the space around them. He has to keep them safe from her. He has reached the last stanza of the poem.

Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love; And to bleed willingly and joyfully. To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving; To rest at the noon hour and meditate love’s ecstasy; To return home at eventide with gratitude; And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips.

The darkness around them alights, a sphere of flame that surrounds and protects Martin and Jon both. Lolth hits the fire as she lunges, and screams again. Then she fades back into the blackness.

“She cannot protect you for long, spiderling,” Lolth hisses. “I will come for you. I will always come for you.”

And then she’s gone, and they’re falling, falling, falling. Endlessly and forever, falling into the void.

The fire around them fades, and they’re in the dark again. Martin thinks that maybe he used the last of his energy, but even if all he did was to stop the Web’s plan… maybe that’s enough, in the end.

He’s fading, his consciousness dimming. He’s barely aware of Jon’s body in his arms. He takes a moment to hold Jon close and kiss the dark skin of his lover’s brow, cold despite the flame that had surrounded them not long before.

“I love you, Jon,” Martin whispers, “and I’m never, ever letting you go. Never again.”

And then everything fades into blackness. If this is death, he thinks, it’s not so bad.

Next Chapter

#the magnus archive fanart #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #fanfic #my fanfic #tma spoilers #otp: one way or another together #let all the broken pieces shine #tma d&d au #this one had a much better spot for the cut #i need more poetry in the later chapters of this

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absolute-lithops-emotion · 5 years

Text

because my brain works the way it works, whenever I get into something I immediately shift into crossover mode, so I was thinking, tma and dghda

Dirk Gently characters in the Magnus Archives universe is just way too sad to think about, but tma characters in the Dirk Gently universe on the other hand!

Imagine:

When Jon is a kid, he encounters something dangerous and supernatural, like in canon, and like in canon he can only stand there and watch. But then it keeps happening. He keeps running into these terrible things happening to other people, and there’s never anything he can do to help, and he remembers all these things perfectly.

Then one day, a man comes to his grandmother’s house. Says he’s from the Magnus Institute, and he knows about this kind of thing. Says he can teach Jon about it, if he comes back to the Institute with him. So of course Jon goes, and when they get there Elias (because that’s the man’s name, of course) leaves Jon with a tape recorder while he “takes care of some paperwork” and suggests that Jon might feel better if he puts his stories to tape. So Jon does, and almost immediately, the awfully present memories begin to fade into something more… ordinary.

Jon lives at the institute, and Elias tells him about his powers, about the Universe and being connected to something bigger, and at first Jon finds it comforting. But as he gets older he begins to realize… that Elias isn’t going to teach him control, isn’t going to tell him that he can do more than just observe. That maybe he can’t do anything more than observe. Maybe that just isn’t what he’s for. Well, that’s fine.

So when Jon’s an adult, Elias sends him out of the Institute to record specific weird stuff, although he usually ends up getting sidetracked and kidnapped a lot before he’s able to get back. And he does go back, every time, because, you know, emotional manipulation. BUT THEN he meets Martin. Martin’s connected with something weird somehow, maybe as it turns out A Lot of weird things, but he doesn’t seem to be actually Involved with any of them. And Jon… keeps running into him??? So Jon is like, obviously this is a Suspicious Figure, in need of Further Investigation. And completely fails to realize that he just has a crush on the guy.

This story is called “New Children of the Old God” of course

More disjointed thoughts about this AU under the cut!

I haven’t figured out exactly what what Jon’s deal is as an Agent of the Universe but he’s probably something like a memory backup system? The stuff he gets drawn to involves other people like him and sticky causal situations, and a lot of the time (increasingly often??) situations where Holistics/the Universe aren’t working the way they’re supposed to and things are going wrong. So Jon observes these events and their fallout and records them in a tangible form that can be referred back to later by other people in case something like this happens again.

And he is ONLY supposed to observe, NOT help or interfere. That would corrupt the data! So as long as he stays out of it, he is very very hard to injure, since he does have to be in close proximity to dangerous situations. But there are times when he can’t help but try to help instead of just observe and he usually ends up horribly injured. Elias berates him for doing this, under the guise of being worried for Jon’s safety, but really he just doesn’t want The Mission to be compromised and he wants Jon to do what he says. Because he’s horrible.

In that vein, Elias has set himself up as this kind of Father Figure Mentor and he absolutely ruffles Jon’s hair a lot.

I also haven’t figured out Jon’s exact attitude towards the whole situation at the start of the story but, much like in canon, I think he’s in heavy Denial Mode. He can’t deny that he has powers or that supernatural stuff exists, but he absolutely is framing it as a power that he has, that comes from him, because he doesn’t want to believe that he’s just being pulled around by the Universe and if he doesn’t acknowledge it it’s not real right??? This is just his Job, and he’s going to be a Professional and Do His Job. Which, does require him to act like an insensitive jerk about other people being in danger, But Hey. (Also this attitude probably interferes with him doing his job effectively BUT HEY)

Oh and he does have the whole “compel people to tell the truth” thing. As well as the “sometimes you just Know Stuff” thing, not that it’s very helpful in actually piecing things together. Jon has the general background awareness of the fundamental interconnectedness of all things, but not much more in that vein

There are two options for the Institute that I have to decide between. One, every Holistic went through there, like with Blackwing, and just some of them have “graduated” and live somewhere else now or just aren’t affiliated with them anymore. Two, the Institute has only ever had a few Holistics because… they don’t have a military budget lol. I’m leaning towards the second one, because of that and also some other stuff that I’ll get to.

So, the people who I know are at the Institute (in a similar position that the Holistics were at Blackwing): Jon, Gerry, Annabel, formerly Michael Shelley but not anymore. Might be more? I sure don’t know.

Annabel’s deal is the easiest to talk about so I’ll do that first. She’s actually pretty similar to Dirk, minus the detective thing -- she makes sure people and things are where they’re Supposed To Be, doing what they’re Supposed To Do.

She doesn’t do anything as unsubtle as command or compel people, instead she usually has a very good hunch for just what to casually mention or suggest in order to make them have the idea themselves. But she might also be able to control people by whispering to them while they’re asleep, mostly because I think it would be hilarious if she used this power to make Jon do dumb stuff and walk into things when they were kids. I mean, all of this is really subject to change given that we know jack shit about Annabel in canon.

Annabel is also the one who really Gets, like, what they are and what they do and what that means. She is just the kind of person who can fundamentally vibe with the idea that they are really just being pulled around by the Universe for its own designs and they don’t get a say in the matter.

So Michael is hard to figure out because fractals mean something totally different in these two canons. So do I give him a connection to the Backstage of Reality Mandelbrot dealie? Because here’s the thing I’m gonna go on like, a million tangents here but hey everything’s connected right

(Also something I have to figure out is which parts do I take from Michael Shelley and which parts do I take from Michael Spiralentity because we know the latter AN LOT better than the former so like, but on the other hand.... You see what I mean?)

Whatever Michael’s deal is, at some point he gets betrayed or finds out something and completely breaks from the institute and also starts trying to fuck up the Universe. At some point he meets Helen and I guess it’s sort of like a Bart and Ken situation?? Anyway and then at some point the Universe gets Fed Up with Michael’s shenanigans and forcibly rips his powers out of him and gives them to Helen.

But then I was thinking, maybe give the Mandelbrot Powers to Gerry, because I could not for the life of me figure out anything else, and also he has the biggest Hero Of Another Story energy, and also like I said fractals mean something different in the Dirk Gently universe.

But then, like, multiple people can have pararibulitis at once in canon so maybe it’s a moot point! Maybe they can both have Mandelbrot Powers who knows

Anyway

So they all live at the Institute together but they are fairly isolated and don’t see each other much until they’re like, older teens

Also I have to mention at this point: this fic is Jonmartin but! it might also!! be Jongerry!!! Because I’m nothing if not a sucker for “Gerry was Jon’s celebrity crush” and in this case they are actually living in the same building and Jon has absolutely run into Gerry doing inexplicable and slightly concerning Mission-related things in odd corners in the middle of the night, and also keeps hearing all these stories about him, AND THEN, he finally is old enough that Elias lets him go on Missions with the other Holistics his age and he gets to go on one with Gerry and he’s like okay be cool be cool be cool and he psyches himself out so much that he ends up saying something really insensitive and he’s like I Can Never Talk To Him Again, cause he’s a teenager. But, you know, they end up working together often and by the time the story starts they’re actually on pretty good terms. But then Jon’s in denial and Gerry has some complicated feelings about the Institute and he doesn’t really like what they’re doing, and those attitudes clash Bad sometimes.

Martin is also very jealous of the Holistics that Jon grew up with cause like, they grew up together, they probably understand Jon better than he ever will, right? And he’s jealous of Gerry especially but then he deals with his issues and gets over it and then polyamory can happen.

(It goes without saying that Jon is oblivious to ALL of this for a Very Long Time)

I don’t know who came up with “Holistic” but it probably wasn’t Jon, that being said this will not stop him from using it when people point out that he doesn’t actually know what an archivist does. It’s an instant Get Out Of Jail Free card. He can just answer anything with “Well, that’s because I’m a Holistic Archivist”

Jon is Elias’s Favorite but literally no one except him actually cares about that because Gertrude Robinson is also there and she’s just objectively so much cooler.

I’m not sure if Gertrude is Holistic or not? She might be, given her very “for the greater good” attitude that seems to be shared with the Universe (could she be… a Holistic Arsonist). But unlike Jon and his gang she is on pretty much the same level as Elias or at least he wants her to think that.

Dekker might be there too? But he’s definitely not Holistic, he’s a regular guy who just happens to be really badass.

(Much like the Holistic Gang, there might also be other adults there but I haven’t figured that out yet (I mean they’re all adults but some of them weren’t always if that makes sense))

The Deal With Elias: Obviously some kind of body-swapping happened there, there’s body-swapping in Dirk Gently already I have to take advantage of this precedent. Here’s the basic idea that I have currently: Elias Bouchard is kind of a loser. Okay, a big loser. But then one day he encounters something. Something weird. Something that makes him latch on to the idea that there might be Something Bigger. And the Bouchard family is a bit like the Spring family -- they aren’t Holistic or anything like that, but they have seen/done some weird shit, and they do have Resources. Resources Elias can use to, eventually (or maybe not eventually? perhaps even accidentally? definitely accidentally), look into the very Backstage of Reality itself. Resources that would be very useful to Jonah Magnus, who’s been waiting back there for a Very Long Time. Here’s the thing -- Elias Bouchard wanted to play a part in something bigger than himself. To be Important, in a cosmic sense. And Now He Is.

Also, og!Elias absolutely ran into/maybe worked with Gertrude Robinson before The Thing happened, solely because I n e e d to give them Riggins’ and Friedkin’s conversations. Can you imagine

So here’s the thing. I have no clue what Jonah Magnus’s intentions or motivations are in this AU! A possibility: he, like Michael, is Against the Universe, except he’s pretending not to be and in fact might have slightly manipulated Michael into trying to break the Universe? And maybe, when Michael is Replaced By Helen, he also gets taken to the Backstage of Reality (or maybe he was there when it happened and now he has no way to get out) where he meets! none other than og!Elias. I just think that would be fun. But on the other hand why was Jonah Magnus there in the first place? I don’t know, we didn’t get the chance to learn anything about the place before the show was cancelled, so

Another possible plot point: What The Fuck Is Up With Hill Top Road??? Seriously that house is the most Dirk Gently shit in the whole podcast. I mean, I really wouldn’t want to write about it until we learn what the canonical deal with it is but then I definitely for sure will not be finished with this fic by the time we do learn that so

#the magnus archives #dghda #this has a potential audience of like... two

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soveryanon · 5 years

Text

Reviewing time for MAG147 X_X/

- We already knew that Annabelle was interested in stories – she was “the Story Spinner” in MAG123, had Gregory Cox instal a website to fish out what were basically statements. And her statement in itself feels a bit like a… crafted story, in-universe? It’s explicitly addressed to Jon, meant to be read by Jon, and it contained so many details reminiscent of Jon’s own infancy: both lived near the sea (Hunstanton/Bournemouth); both were raised by a female figure who didn’t hide her resentment (Annabelle’s mother for having to take care of a large family, Jon’s grandmother for having to take care of her son’s son); Annabelle tried to run away and Jon used to “explore” too far to the point of being brought back by the police; Annabelle left her home with a book (Five Go Down to the Sea) while Jon had been led outside by one (A Guest for Mr. Spider); both encountered The Web as kids and were presumably led to fit in Her scheme later on in their lives as young adults… but with enough nuances and straight-out differences (Annabelle coming from a large family while Jon was a single child without a close family, etc.) to clearly set them apart. This passage, especially, felt especially Dedicated To Jon?

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The air was warm and humid as I snuck out of the house, filled with that slight smell of salt that even now… changed as I am… I still sometimes find myself missing here, in the grimy air of London.”

And what to think of the ~coincidence~ of Annabelle, future Web avatar, growing up in a family of eight children, having a distant mother – while her present Patron is referred as Mother-of-Puppets? Was it a genuine story, or a hybrid creation crafted from various other stories with threads interwoven to form other patterns? Annabelle herself raised the possibility, in a terrifying way (“Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach.”), and, indeed. Annabelle could be unreliable – we know that statement-givers can conceal information if they want:

(MAG121) OLIVER: And about two years before I came to your Institute, something happened – something I didn’t want to talk about. Didn’t even want to think about. I… [SIGH] I started to see them when I was awake. […] Even when I went to your Institute, tried to warn her, I could see them crawling through the corridors towards the Archives.

(“Lying” is a different matter – can you write a lie when making a statement, or would it work as long as you think/are convinced that an event took place a certain way? We’ve had an example, with MAG015, of events being objectively different from the way the statement-giver described them (“Take her, not me”). But with Annabelle… yeah, absolutely no idea if we’re to take what she said at face-value or not.)

And interestingly, I… don’t feel like we learned anything at all about Annabelle Cane’s actions or history: because she didn’t cover at all the parts of her avatar life that we had heard of. She barely scratched the surface of her transformation, with enough doubt to wonder if she had been led there or if it was a coincidence (something she highlighted, as she said that her experience as a kid “is what engendered in me that terror of spiders which eventually led to my volunteering at Surrey University” but it had been stated in MAG069 that… she hadn’t been told that the experiment was about arachnophobia), didn’t say a word about Neil Lagorio, nor what she was planning with the website in 2015. We only know that she has plans. She is. Terrifying.

- What she said about:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “The Mother is the fear of manipulation and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete.”

indeed fits a LOT with the pattern we have seen of avatars reminiscing on the events that led them to their current life. Jude had insisted on her “burn-out”; Mike rationalised that he had always been a bit fascinated by falling, hence going for The Vast; Oliver described it precisely too:

(MAG121) OLIVER: I still remember the first time I tried to touch one. In my dreams, the night before, I had found my way back to my own street. I don’t know why I did it. I knew it was a stupid thing to do, walking past my own home in a dream, but I just– … Maybe I wanted it this way, I mean… when I stepped out the building that morning, I… didn’t turn towards the bus stop like I always do. I turned right instead, walked over to the little alleyway where I knew, some time in the next week, a young woman was… going to have a fatal aneurysm. […] So, I did some digging. Found the identity of a few crew members and started to track them down. I told myself that I didn’t know what I was looking for, but I did. Of course I did. […] I had never felt anything as cold as those veins. It was so… hm, patient. It… made me think of those winter mornings, when I was a kid, with no snow; just… frost and frozen mist over everything. Keeping the world in place, curling you up into yourself and… quietly waiting for you to lose your footing, to slip up and fall. Snap.

Annabelle herself insisted on the idea of control and manipulation when she was a kid, and Jon… Jon had insisted on the curiosity for novelty and on seeing. But if he had been touched, let’s say, by The Lonely, would he have retroactively described his exact same childhood as one of isolation, without any meaningful connection…?

- … I feel so stupid to have just assumed, all this time, that somehow, all Web avatars had to be interconnected to their patron, aware of the Big Plans? Because it was The Web and duh? But nop, apparently, Annabelle doesn’t know about The Web’s intentions (… if it has any “intention”, as Gertrude had questioned MAG145) – she could be lying but. Not Knowing What Your Patron Wants Of You seems to be a recurring thing in season 4, Jon had lamented about it in MAG145 too (which. was. worrisome.).

But Annabelle has her own plans, at the very least, and they apparently involve Jon:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I’m afraid I don’t actually have these answers for you; I’ve simply been… watching. I’m sure you understand that. Maybe I’ve occasionally been nudging something here and there to keep you safe, to keep everything on track.”

… which does NOT make her an ally, what the flying fuck JON:

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: So, she is… watching the Institute. Interfering with things. … [HUFF] Is that reassuring, or… really, really bad…? I can’t say I’m… [HUFF] I can’t say I’m sad to have another ally allegedly on our side, but I don’t like the idea of being important to The Web. … That’s a really bad place to be…

(Especially since he had mentioned he was… ready to get into danger or to die if it means saving someone – Annabelle’s comment seems to give credit to the idea that she was the one who sent Martin to put the tapes around the coffin to get Jon back? So if she needs Jon alive, and especially given the current situation… that’s Bad, actually…?)

(- I’m… astonished that Jon didn’t get into a paranoia fit about The Web’s ritual, then? Since he has no information whatsoever about it, and had been researching about rituals until then. The Web making a move should make him think of the possibility…? Unless he has already accessed a few of Martin’s tapes? Unless he “knows” the content of the recording? (… But given that Annabelle and The Web are not the same thing, I do wonder if it’s not possible to have an avatar trying to bring its patron’s ritual to completion despite said patron not being overly interested in theory…? We’ve had the reverse case, with Jared refusing to participate in The Last Feast, after all…))

(- So, that “nudging”: it strengthens the idea that she was indeed the one who sent Martin helping Jon to get out of the coffin?

(MAG134) PETER: What does puzzle me, though, and I mean that genuinely, is… why you were piling tape recorders onto the coffin, while Jon was in there. [PAUSE] It’s a question, Martin, it’s– it’s not an accusation. MARTIN: I don’t know. And I just… felt like it might help. He’s always recording, I thought… it–it might help him… find his way out. PETER: Interesting. Were you compelled? MARTIN: [SULLEN] … I don’t know. … M–maybe? I–I, I definitely wanted to do it… PETER: But? MARTIN: I’m… I’m not sure where the idea came from. PETER: You should watch out for that. Could be something dangerous. MARTIN: Sure.

(MAG135) ELIAS: I needed a way to force him to harness his ability more acutely than he had before. The coffin was a useful tool; Daisy an adequate bait. BASIRA: Then you messed up. Way he tells it, he doesn’t know how he got out of there. ELIAS: But he did. And his powers were no small part of it. Even if he required some assistance, they were what saved him. And he’s still achieved what no one – mortal, monster, or anything in-between – has ever been able to. He climbed out of The Buried.

1°) Peter Doesn’t Like It

2°) Elias Absolutely Doesn’t Mind It

Elias, that’s the 100th time this season, but what DO YOU KNOW about the spiders in your Institute…)

(- There were so many mentions of watching/seeing in Annabelle’s statement, and she did acknowledge Jon’s confusion over what is coming from The Eye and what could come from The Web… so there is still That Thing again. With the confirmation that Smirke had been extremely arbitrary and couldn’t stand to acknowledge the possibility that he might have been wrong in his “architecture”, it seems that “An infinite amorphous blob of terror bleeding out in every direction at once.” still remains The Most Accurate description of the Fears.)

- That… was such a powerful move…

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … You hear that? BASIRA: No, I, I don’t hear– ARCHIVIST: Shh, shh! MELANIE: Yes. Room on the left…! ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “an organisation dedicated to–” DAISY: Is that…? ARCHIVIST: Yes…. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–academic research into the esoteric, and the paranormal.” BASIRA: Don’t touch it. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “The head of the Institute–” ARCHIVIST: No. ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–Mr Elias Bouchard–” ARCHIVIST: It’s alright. [BREATHING DEEPER] [FOOTSTEPS] ARCHIVIST’S RECORDED VOICE FROM MAG001: “–has employed me to replace the previous Head Archivist, one Gertrude Robinson, who has recently passed away.” ARCHIVIST: [EXHALE] [THE TAPE IS STOPPED.] DAISY: Something underneath it. ARCHIVIST: I see it. Uh, hand me that brush? [RUFFLING SOUND] BASIRA: Is… that what I think it is? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] Yeah. [RUSTLING PAPER] Official Institute paper, and everything. BASIRA: Goddamnit…! ARCHIVIST: “Statement of Annabelle Cane.” … She left it for us.

1°) She knew that the assistants were going to The Web’s stronghold for the first time, and she left things that had been taken out from the Institute, The Eye’s stronghold as messages. Meaning she has indeed full access to the Institute and the Archives.

2°) Leaving. A statement. As a gift. Nobody had asked and she left it.

3°) MAG001’s tape, meaning Jon’s whole debut as an unwilling servant of The Eye, potentially meaning that she had been watching all along…

4°) Throwing us into the past, too: because it was the old Jon, pretending he didn’t believe in the supernatural – the Jon who hid and dissimulated (just like he did again with the people he attacked for their statements)… because he was afraid, because he thought that acknowledging them would mean catching their attention. We get to hear this Jon, again, and it’s such. A blow. And a reminder that Jon has been doing that again lately.

(5°) … and they arrived just when Elias was mentioned on the tape, so *squints* Is it because it was just the beginning of the tape, or an invitation to go request Explanations&Answers from that fucker.)

- Same, HHHH that power move of beginning the statement with

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) ““Free will” is a funny old thing – isn’t it, Jon? Can I call you Jon? I’m going to call you Jon.”

… when she revealed a few lines later that she perfectly knew that Jon couldn’t stop reading. So he couldn’t answer anyway because it was an indirect message, but he was forced to read the question and Annabelle’s unilateral decision without being able to agree or protest anyway, and she perfectly knew it. Hhhhh.

(Also, the question was reminiscent of Nikola’s own “Can I call you Elias?” during Jon’s kidnapping&sequestration, and ahahaha, that. Might have been even more triggery for Jon, uh.)

(Aaaand both Oliver, agent of Death, and Annabelle, agent of Web, jumped to a first-name basis with Jon while he was in no position to allow or refuse them – in a “coma” with Oliver, and under compulsion-to-read with Annabelle.

(MAG121) OLIVER: Hum… Hello, Jon. Do you… m–mind if I call you Jon? I… I mean. You don’t actually know me, it’s just… well. “Archivist”, it’s so… formal, isn’t it? And I do kind of know you…? […] The thing is, Jon, right now, you have a choice.

Annabelle and Oliver are definitely kinda-friends, uh.)

(- And the voiceswitch was ABSOLUTELY DELIGHTFUL. Terrifying and wow. Jon felt like someone else, even more than usual.)

- Obligatory squintsquintsquint because:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “I discovered a deep and enduring talent inside myself… for lying. My manipulations were not intricate – but they were far beyond what was expected of a child my age, and I have always believed that the key to controlling people… is to ensure that they always under, or overestimate you. Never reveal your true abilities or plans.”

………… is kinda reminiscent of Martin:

(MAG117) MARTIN: These last couple of years, I’ve always been... running, always hiding, caught in someone else’s trap, but… but now it’s my trap. And, well. I think it will work. I know, I know it’s not exactly intricate, but… it felt good, weaving my own little web. OH, oh Christ, I hope Jon doesn’t actually listen to these. “Good lord, is Martin becoming some sort of spider person?” No, Jon, it’s an expression, chill out. Besides, spiders are fine. I mean, yes, people are scared of them, obviously, but actual spiders, they just… want to help you out with flies!

(And Elias had described his own ability as “weaving” too. And Jon did wonder, in MAG145, if he wasn’t mostly just plainly good at bullshitting. If there are two people we tend to over/under-estimate, it would be Elias and Martin, who both “love manipulating people!”…)

- Obligatory laugh that:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “With any other animal, we talk about “instinct”, we talk about “training”, perhaps if we have spent enough time with them… we talk about “personality”. But we never talk about choice. We never look at a dog racing wildly after a thrown ball and think “What an odd decision that dog has made!”. We talk about the workings of its mind, and its instincts; if it doesn’t chase the ball, we wonder why: is it sick? Is it tired? Perhaps something in the nature of this particular breed, this particular dog, makes it prone to ignoring a game of fetch. The idea of a dog simply… choosing not to chase feels deeply unnatural. Is it even capable of legitimately making a decision? Some would say no.”

Hey, Annabelle. You don’t know cats, uh. And you’re talking to a cat-lover. (Well. A love of The Admiral, at the very least. Who had decided it was time for belly rubs before electing to go on with his day, back in MAG093, in typical cat behaviour.)

- Constant soft static while they were at Hill Top Road, so there is definitely Something Wrong with the place. (However, there was none when Jon read the statement, so did they stop at an inn, or where they back at the Institute already?)

Ivo Lensik had given his statement about Hill Top Road in March 2007, and Jon had mentioned in his follow-up that:

(MAG008) ARCHIVIST: Two families have lived in the house since this statement was originally made but no further manifestations have been reported on Hill Top Road.

Plus, there was Anya Villette’s statement from April 2014 (MAG114), which mentioned:

(MAG114, Anya Villette) “The owners of the house had already filled it with furniture. Not good furniture, of course: just the cheapest IKEA had that wouldn’t collapse under the weight of a textbook. It was all assembled, though […]. It opened to reveal stairs going down into a basement. Nobody had mentioned a basement. Not when they gave me the job, not on the floor plan they’d given me; I’d had absolutely no idea it was there.”

(Anya also mentioned “thick sheets of white plastic, to try and keep the dust off” over the furniture and the fact that she had woken up “in one of the chairs, the dust cover clinging to me like a cocoon”: it sounds a lot like spider web, but she had been able to identify cobwebs as such when trying to reach the basement. So? Is it because The Web’s presence was stronger down there…? Her confusion about things still sounds like textbook Spiral to me, though we learned, since then, that there is the “scar in reality” so… what the heck was happening with Anya.)

By contrast:

(MAG147) MELANIE: When did you say they finished rebuilding? ARCHIVIST: 2008? MELANIE: Hm! ARCHIVIST: Doesn’t look like anyone ever… moved in, though. BASIRA: So this is… ten years of cobwebs? DAISY: More than that. [FOOTSTEPS.] MELANIE: [INHALE] No, I’m sure this is just the normal number of webs that grow up organically…! […] DAISY: Clear. [SHUT THE DOOR.] Looks like nothing downstairs. BASIRA: You wanna… take a moment, before we head up? ARCHIVIST: What about the basement? DAISY: Can’t see one. ARCHIVIST: Huh… DAISY: You want me to take point? ARCHIVIST: Uh… no – no, I’ve, I’ve got it.

So there are Too Many Cobwebs, it looks unoccupied although there used to be furniture, and we still (don’t) have a Schrödinger basement. GREAT.

(And bonus: Annabelle doesn’t want Jon to go there again – or at least, for now.)

- Jon The Tired Young Old Man is back, once again, and it’s been His Season To Shine:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: Everything’s changed. … [SIGH] Two days out of a coma, and I’m already tired.

(MAG128) ARCHIVIST: [WEAKLY] Statement… ends. [COLLAPSES] [CLICK.]

(MAG131) MELANIE: You’re going now? ARCHIVIST: [NERVOUS BREATHLESS LAUGHTER] [HISS OF PAIN] No. … No, now, I am going for a lay down. That was… that was not what I’d expected. MELANIE: Come on. You can use Basira’s cot.

(MAG137) ARCHIVIST: Everyone else is… running towards something, or running away, and I… [SIGH] I don’t know what I’m doing. [PAUSE] [SIGH] I’m just tired. Think I might go lie down for a while. Get a cup of tea [HUFF]

(MAG140) BASIRA: You look awful. You tried drinking with Daisy again last night? […] ARCHIVIST: [SLURRING] It’s not a hangover. Well, not… [INHALE] I wasn’t drinking. [SIGH] […] Yesterday, I tried something I… [INHALE] I–I deliberately tried to… Know something, like I did in the coffin, but… there was a lot. Too much [SIGH], and I… […] You drink the whole contents of a bar in three seconds, you don’t remember what the merlot tasted like. [SIGH] It just… hurt.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … We’ve been back in London for just over a week, now. I’m… more or less recovered physically. It’s just this nagging sense of unease that won’t leave me.

(MAG147) BASIRA: Jon, focus. Are you getting any “sense” of anything? Can you… “see” anything? ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: This one really took it out of me. [CLEARER] I need to go lie down…! … E–end recording. [CLICK.]

………………………… except that, given His Pattern, and the mention that he hadn’t absolutely recovered from the Dark trip……………….. it probably means he “needs” a new victim to get fully rested. I. Really. Hope. That the girls will keep a close eye on him, uh…

- The Dasira shines… in small but significant ways… and how they like to throw jokes around Jon in tense situations…

(MAG143) BASIRA: [SIGH] Eyes peeled. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Yeah.

(MAG147) BASIRA: So, where are all the spiders? MELANIE: Ah– I mean, they, they hide. You know, it’s a thing they do, spiders – they hide. DAISY: Perhaps they… bugged out. [FOOTSTEPS.] ARCHIVIST: [WHISPERS] … Was that a joke? BASIRA: Jon, focus.

(Not “bugs” technically, Daisy – Martin would be Offended about it!) I love how both Basira&Daisy are unapologetic about it, how it always takes Jon a moment to realise what Was Just Said, how he used the same tone to ask-what-he-already-knows (this is why people like Melanie like to say you don’t have a sense of humour, Jon.), and how… Basira was the one to demand he go back on track in the last one, instead of Daisy.

- My heart cried a bit about the girls throwing jokes because… yeah, it’s how Team Archives tends to deal with dire situations – and it was… really reminiscent of The Unknowing expedition, with TIM’S JOKES ABOUT THE WAXWORKS orz

(MAG118) TIM: And anyways, it’s not like we're alone in here. Look. There’s Prince Charles. [GROANING] TIM: Oh, if he’d been in an accident. Or the Beatles! If they’d all been in separate accidents, like, like Ringo was in a horrible fire, or Paul was in a car crash, that’s a classic– ARCHIVIST: Yes, Tim. I remember them. The waxworks are… bad. […] BASIRA: So would you say this was supposed to be Churchill or Alfred Hitchcock? ARCHIVIST: Jowls like that, could be either.

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: No, I’m just… seeing what you’re seeing. Still a bit… weak from my trip North, to be honest. MELANIE: Sorry we couldn’t stop for a snack…! [SHARED SNORTS.] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] […] BASIRA: These flares going to work? DAISY: No idea, but… Jon said The Web doesn’t get on great with fire, and we don’t exactly have a flamethrower, so… BASIRA: I mean, at least until we find the one Gertrude stocked [?? unintelligible, Daisy snorting too hard]. DAISY: [SNORT] BASIRA: Right next to the nukes…! […] ARCHIVIST: Well… [SIGH] We’re here now. Might as well push on. MELANIE: … Famous last words. [HUMOROUS EXHALES.]

It’s the same team, minus Tim, plus Melanie…

(Also, the reminder that Gertrude was all about fireweapons… Elias had taunted Leitner about “arson”, and he was positively seething when Martin had begun to burn statements, soooo… really, was Gertrude’s plan to deal with The Eye to burn down the Institute.)

- I’m sad that Melanie doesn’t get a nickname…

(MAG146) DAISY: [SIGH] Come on, Mel. I’ll see if I’ve got a stab vest in your size. MELANIE: … Yeah. Sure.

(MAG147) DAISY: Here, Mel. MELANIE: What even are these? DAISY: Magnesium flares. Technically not legal anymore; if you need more, just shout. MELANIE: Oh? Hum. Fine. [INHALE] Uh, and… and, please, don’t… call me “Mel”. DAISY: What? Since when? MELANIE: Always. I’m… [SIGH] trying to be more… o–open about this… stuff. DAISY: Roger Wilco, Miss King. MELANIE: Mm! Better.

… but I’m SO glad that:

1°) she has trouble, but clearly expressed that she didn’t like it. Worded her discomfort. Tried to fix something that was bothering her and directly impacting her. It’s hard, but she’s doing it.

2°) I’m so glad that Daisy immediately corrected herself, acknowledged it and didn’t even ask for a reason why Melanie didn’t like it. Melanie doesn’t like it, end of story, no fuss.

So no nickname for Melanie, but Daisy and Melanie sound even closer and good together!! ;w;

- Overall, GUUUUH, I’m. So proud of Melanie??? She’s been doing so much better!

(MAG123) BASIRA: Yeah. I did warn you. She’s not, uh… she’s not been having a good time. ARCHIVIST: Mm! Yeah, I did get that impression. [SIGH] Elias is gone. I thought… I mean, wasn’t that supposed to be… it? But she’s still… BASIRA: It’s not that simple. ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that.

(MAG125) BASIRA: Oh, yeah, the stuff she takes is pretty strong these days. She should be out for a while. … What? Sleep is hard.

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Do–do you think it worked? Is she… BASIRA: I don’t know. She seems more… coherent, I guess. And you did get an apology. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. BASIRA: She said she can cry now, which is, hum… ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: Progress, I think? ARCHIVIST: Uh… BASIRA: She’s still angry but, she hasn’t attacked anyone. Not even sure she has it in her anymore. ARCHIVIST: Well that’s, that’s good! BASIRA: Hm.

(MAG131) ARCHIVIST: A–at least, it’s out! … Maybe… maybe it’s enough to start healing, start… letting go of the anger. MELANIE: Oh, just stop! Just stop and– listen. ARCHIVIST: Okay. MELANIE: Yes, the, the bullet was bad, right. But it didn’t make me angry. Anger is… Anger’s been all I’ve had for a long time. Years. Maybe since– oh, I, I don’t know, but…! Everything I’ve done, everything I’ve pushed for, was because I was angry! Angry of being past over, being disrespected, ignored… that sort of anger, it, it powers you! … Right until it slips out, and hurts someone. I – hurt someone. And then, one day, I suddenly have this thing that takes all that rage, and it holds it. Tells me it’s right. That it’s me. It didn’t stay in my leg because of some Ghostly Masterplan; it stayed… because I wanted it. ARCHIVIST: … Shit. MELANIE: Yes.

(MAG136) ARCHIVIST: If you don’t mind me asking, [STATIC:] where are you off to…? MELANIE: Therapy. [STATIC ENDS] … Wait. ARCHIVIST: Oh…! Oh, God, Melanie, I’m, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, uh… MELANIE: [EXASPERATED SIGH] It’s fine. I would probably have told you eventually, anyway. ARCHIVIST: Even so, I shouldn’t have– MELANIE: Just… forget it. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] It’s good, though. I–I’m glad you’re getting help. MELANIE: Yes, well. We’ll see. There’s a… a lot of crap therapists out there. ARCHIVIST: I guess. Still, it–it is a good step. MELANIE: I suppose. ARCHIVIST: You want to tell them the truth? MELANIE: I don’t know! It’s all a bit… [SIGH] Y’know? Er… C… can we drop it. ARCHIVIST: Of course.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: The others are doing… better, I think. Basira’s busy doing research for something secretive, unsurprisingly. But she seems to be adjusting to, uh… the new Daisy. I actually like Daisy now, which is a… really weird feeling. [INHALE] Melanie’s quiet, but I think therapy’s helping.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: Oh, uh, therapy! You’re taking her to therapy! GEORGIE: She… told you, then? ARCHIVIST: Uh, yes. Yeah. GEORGIE: … Well, you don’t need to sound quite so psyched about it. She gets… nervous travelling there alone.

(Compare this with Elias’s:

(MAG127) ELIAS: I believe you’ve recently lost Melanie. BASIRA: … We saved Melanie. ELIAS: As a person, yes, but as a defender…

… go rot in jail, Elias. OH WAIT–) (It’s been almost a year for him, I hope it’s getting long and he’s feeling very bored.)

Still unsure whether Melanie’s therapist is Bad News (… even more concerning: I found Jon’s narration of Annabelle’s statement very close to the therapist’s own jumpiness), but… the therapy in itself seems to be working? She’s learning little tricks to improve her life and remain in control and calm? She is expressing boundaries? It’s good? Melanie!!!

- I’mmmmm a bit interrogative about the comment she made about Jon’s ~compulsion~ to read statement right away:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Of course, that’s not the real crux of the free will question that’s… bothering you at the moment, is it? I think that one probably comes down to whether or not you’re choosing to continue reading this statement out loud. You didn’t mean to, did you? No, I’m sure you told Basira and Melanie that you were going to glance over it and report back. Perhaps they asked you if you were going to record, and you shook your head – “Maybe later”. That sounds like the sort of thing you’d say. But think about it, Jon: when’s the last time you were able to read a statement quietly to yourself without instinctively hitting record and speaking it aloud? It is just instinct? Habit? Or is it a compulsion – a string pulled by the Ceaseless Watcher or the Mother of Puppets? Or both? I know the summaries have started to confuse you. Where did they come from, when you read a statement fresh? How do you just… sort of know what it’s about, before you even start to read it…? But by then, you’re away: the roller coaster is dropping and you’ve no real choice but to hold on and hope that… I don’t crash you.”

Alright, for the summaries, I… had been wondering about it. And we indeed got a demonstration with live-statements that Jon knew the subject and a few key elements even before beginning to hear the story – and alright, it might be how he knew what the tape was about in MAG146, although there couldn’t have been no name written on it (since Martin didn’t know Jess’s name and Jon is the one who reveals it):

(MAG141) ARCHIVIST: [INTERESTEDLY] You… FLOYD: Uh…? BASIRA: Jon? ARCHIVIST: You used to work for Salesa… FLOYD: W–what, you… Who did? I don’t know what you’re talking about. ARCHIVIST: Mikaele Salesa. You used to work on his ship. FLOYD: … I don’t know you. ARCHIVIST: [ARCHLY] But I know you. BASIRA: Jon…? ARCHIVIST: Floyd Matharu. Served on the Dorian from 2011 to 2014. With Salesa. BASIRA: Jon, I’m not sure about this. ARCHIVIST: I am. Tell me what happened. [STATIC INCREASES] FLOYD: W–what…? What is this? ARCHIVIST: Whenever you’re ready. FLOYD: A–a–alright. [STATIC DECREASES] … Sure… [SILENCE] He… he–he w–was a good boss, you know?

(MAG146) BASIRA: Martin left a tape for us. [SHUFFLING NOISE] ARCHIVIST: And what exactly is on this t– … Oh… MELANIE: Yes.

… But for written statements, we got recent examples where Jon… did some follow-up before recording, or apparently got acquainted with a statement without recording it right away? Cases in point:

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: The investigation is tricky, I don’t want to impose on Basira and, obviously, Melanie and… Martin… aren’t available, but I did do some light searching myself on Gregory Cox. … Vanished, unsurprisingly. […] No notes or follow-up here that I can see, just… [SIGH] It looks like the statement came in just after Gertrude disappeared. […] There’s a small supplemental document with it, though, that is a… bit alarming. I–it’s apparently a list of people whose names appear in the various pieces of text Mr Cox was pasting into the code. It’s unclear if they were meant to be… users or victims, but I cannot help but note that there seem to be the names of several statement-givers who found their way to the Institute, including noted arachnophobe Carlos Vittery.

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: Regardless, I’ve hit another research dead end with this.

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: I did do a small bit of follow-up on Deborah Madaki, just for my own curiosity. She didn’t go to Sannikov Land in the end. I don’t know, however, whether that was because she decided not to, or because… shortly after this statement was given, they found the body of one [Mary Randall] in her basement, and she has spent the last nine years in Eastwood Park Prison, where she remains to this day. I can’t find any evidence related to the condition of the body, but I can imagine what a sculptor’s apprentice might be capable of. Even an unwilling one.

(MAG127) BASIRA: And what was that you were doing yesterday? ARCHIVIST: … When…? BASIRA: You were sat on the floor for like four hours. ARCHIVIST: … Oh! Er, n–n–no, I was, er, I was… listening. Y’know, it’s, trying to see if any of the statements… called to me. BASIRA: And? ARCHIVIST: [FLIPS PAPER] BASIRA: Brilliant.

(MAG139) ARCHIVIST: No one’s come seeking vengeance recently, though, and looking at the details for the British Steel Plant in Scunthorpe, it does seem like Eugene is still around. So I can only assume… some sort of equilibrium was found. (MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I did some more digging into Eugene Vanderstock. I thought he was still alive and… working at the steel plant, but it looks like he’s just listed on one of the old directory pages on their website. … I really miss having people who know their way around a computer better than I do…!

So: were those cases of Jon… forcing himself to not read the statements, but already knowing the names/summaries and trying to do some search before he would be compelled to read them, or was this… Annabelle trying to mess him up a bit more, playing on his fears and trying to make him panic even more strongly.

(The fact that Jon felt a compulsion to read the statements out loud is not a novelty: he mentioned it to Georgie in MAG093. What I’m curious about is that Annabelle seems to insist that the recording is on Jon, although Jon claimed in MAG146 that he isn’t the one hitting record anymore. Does he do it unconsciously? I had always wondered about Tim’s comment, in season 3, describing to Martin how he had got mad because Jon and him had tried to talk and Jon had reached for the tape recorder – the way Tim had described it, it… had felt, to me, as if Jon wasn’t really aware of it.

Outside of statements, though: we’ve had had tapes popping up when Jon physically wasn’t in the room, or not yet – so Jon hadn’t manually turned those on. In season 4, there was his encounter with Martin in MAG129 (the tape recorder clicked on when Martin was alone in the room, we heard Jon enter), and his walk in the tunnels with Melanie in MAG131 (we heard them getting closer, and Jon asked her to give him the tape recorder, which she had been unaware of). So. Are the tape recorders a purely Jon thing, whether he activates them manually (consciously or not) or supernaturally? Are they Web and/or Annabelle’s, and she tried to divert his attention there?)

- In the end, I found Annabelle’s statement almost… reassuring? (Oops.) Because, in a way, Basira had already provided a possible Answer to this:

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: I’m sure the flares will work fine. … I mean, un–unless it’s all some… elaborate… plot… to have us… burn this place down again. BASIRA: So what if it is? ARCHIVIST: I don’t follow…? BASIRA: I mean. Anything we do could be part of the “Grand Master Plan”. So – what, we do nothing? Just… sit on our hands, and hope that’s not what the spiders want? ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

Basira had been presented by Daisy as more action-orientated and in a way… indeed, I’m not sure that “intentions” and “who is controlling” is the most fundamental focus of all? True that uninformed actions can have disastrous consequences (and Jon knows that: axing the Web table liberated the Not!Them, for example), but… Annabelle talked about how influences are numerous and their origins mostly unknown, or unable to be identified – it still leaves room for deciding who/what you want to be and what should matter to you? That you’re “you” as long as you decide? We had the case, in season 4, of Jon explaining his descent into the coffin as his own conscious choice, for his own (partially selfish) reasons, and… he brought some good, with that decision and action?

(MAG136) DAISY: Jon… when you went into the coffin. Was it you choosing to do that? Did you actually think you could save me, or was… that something telling you to do it? [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: It was me. I was… drawn to it, I’ll admit, but it was my decision. [PAUSE] It wasn’t entirely about you, though. DAISY: What was it? ARCHIVIST: My– [PAUSE] [INHALE] [SIGH] My memories of the coma are not clear. But I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I… I don’t know if I made the right decision; I–I’m stronger now, tougher, I can… … If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever… I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else so, if I can maybe stop that happening, and [DRY CHUCKLE] the only danger is to me, I– I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario… the universe loses another monster. DAISY: That’s messed up. ARCHIVIST: [LOW SELF-DEPRECATIVE DRY LAUGHTER] … Yeah. I suppose it is. […] Plus, I thought… [PAUSE] W– [SIGH] Well, I didn’t know what being down there had done to you. DAISY: You thought I was gonna kill you? ARCHIVIST: It was a possibility.

And even in season 3, he had made the conscious choice of trusting the others, and of burning Gerry’s page – although both were hard, and he had to force himself to stick to it, but this is what he had chosen and who he wanted to be?

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: Still, it does sometimes make it hard to… fully trust them, I– [SIGH] You– you know what, no. I’m… I’m done with that. No more paranoia. It’s almost got me killed more than once, and… Georgie was right. If I am… slipping, then I need people I can trust. And I… I don’t think that can happen naturally for me an–anymore, so… I’m making a decision. I trust them. All of them. E– except Elias, obviously, that’s not– I mean… I’ve listened to the tapes. I’ve listened to the tape, I– I know what they talk about behind my back, how much they’ve… suffered, because of… this place… because of me.

(MAG117) ARCHIVIST: That’s it, then. I, I think. Except… [PAPER] I, uh… I haven’t burned it. Gerard’s page. … G–Gerry. I, I… I know there’s more he could tell me. He, he wouldn’t, of course, I, I, I know that, b–but he, he, it would still– b–be– there, that, that, that knowledge. I– It it would, it would still exist, I– I, I, I can’t. I… I want to help. I, I want to. But I… uh… I’m scared. On, on tape, just… just– just do it. [UNCAPPED LIGHTER] [HEAVY BREATHING] [SOUND OF A FLAME] Do it! [HEAVY BREATHING] [CRIES OF PAIN, BURNING SOUND] [HEAVY BREATHING, MUFFLED] I… [CAPPED LIGHTER, SHAKY VOICE] … you owe me one, Gerry. Rest in… … Just rest.

(I get that Annabelle is saying that there is always the idea that you’re never truly “you” because so many things are influencing you – but at the same time, I find it instead, yeah, oddly empowering because… “you” are your influences, too?)

(- Re: Jon, it’s. A really thin line, but at the very least, HE is still not fine with what he’s been doing:

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: [QUIET] … That’s horrible… HELEN: Is it? We do what we need to do when it comes to feeding, don’t we? … Don’t we, Archivist? ARCHIVIST: … Yes… HELEN: It would be better if you embraced it. ARCHIVIST: … It’s not…

(MAG146) DAISY: And the third was after the coffin. ARCHIVIST: A man rejected by all who knew him, searching ever-darker places for love. When he told me his story, he started… weeping maggots. BASIRA: Enough. ARCHIVIST: … I hope so.

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.

And from blaming to The Web to acknowledging his responsibility, and that it had felt “good”, this is progress; and it’s still something he is not embracing, that he’s not okay with, that upsets him. So yeah. The “I don’t want to stop” bit is worrying but… At the same time, the way he’s handling the situation doesn’t scream “I want to keep doing it” either. And I doubt the girls will allow it to happen.)

- I wonder if Annabelle’s statement wasn’t technically meant to… give Jon his “Web” scar. I was positing until now that it had happened with A Guest for Mr Spider, as a kid, when he had been mincontrolled and had also watched the book’s effect on his bully, before it had snatched him – the loss of control on himself and on others. We (/I) tend to focus on the injuries-as-a-collection, as the mark of Jon experiencing the Fears, but technically, “experiencing” also happened to be about getting an inner understanding of their essence? I’m mostly thinking about The Unknowing, when he was able to finally pinpoint what was “Nikola” (what made The Stranger itself), and in the coffin, when he suddenly understood the nature of The Buried:

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: … I see you. NIKOLA: Do you, now? ARCHIVIST: Yes… Yes, I s… I see the sad clown, b–bitter and hateful. I see him finding his way into a ci–circus where nobody knew him. I see him torn apart, becoming the mask, remade by a… a cruel ringmaster. Sometimes a doll, sometimes a mannequin, always hiding in somebody else’s skin. Somebody else’s name.

(MAG132) ARCHIVIST: … Come on… [STATIC] [SHAKY BREATHING] DAISY: Jon? ARCHIVIST: I know… DAISY: Th–the way out? ARCHIVIST: No… I know where we are! There isn’t no out, not here. This is… this is forever deep below creation. Where the weight of existence bears down… This is The Buried, and we are alive… There isn’t even an up.

… and curiously, alongside giving her own example and playing with Jon’s own fears of The Web and the loss of control, Annabelle… gave him a straight breakdown of the nature of The Web?

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Unless, of course, none of it was intentional. None of it was planned. The Mother is the fear of manipulation, and lost control made manifest. So perhaps it is our fear that projects Her influence on everything that happens. Like the mind, retrospectively assigning reason to our actions, so we fit whatever occurs into the neatest pattern we can, and declare Her web both intricate… and complete. Perhaps She is no more active than Terminus – simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory. Or perhaps I am simply telling you what you need to hear, in order to behave exactly as the Mother wishes you to. [STATIC, GRADUALLY INCREASING] Perhaps… I have never even seen a beach. Don’t… go to Hill Top Road again. [STATIC FADES]”

Basically, Annabelle threw Jon deep into the web by… making him doubt and fear that he could be manipulated (saying he wasn’t, then demonstrating that she could still do it, hence the final order, hence the mentions that she could have been lying all through her statement). So, giving him another paranoia fit while throwing him into the pit re: responsibility and potential guilt because he attacked people and those ones were on him.

- Annabelle’s considerations about “free will” and about Jon’s preoccupations indeed seem to play a lot with his current concerns and fears:

(MAG125) ARCHIVIST: I suppose that’s the question with so much of “violence”, “war”: how much are you really in command of yourself or of others? I’m not sure what scares me more: the idea that deep down, everyone is in complete control of their actions, that everything is, on some level, intentional; or that ultimately, we don’t have any control of ourselves at all, and the rest is just… rationalisation.

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I don’t like this. I don’t like… not being sure what’s going to be in my mind. What thoughts are mine and what are from… elsewhere. Why I just know some statements are what I should be reading. I assume this one is related to the coffin. To Daisy.

(MAG136) DAISY: [BREATHING HARDER, FASTER] Yeah, well… What do you think? You think I’m weak, just… [SIGH] ‘cause I’m not already chasing the next kill? You think I’m less me? ARCHIVIST: I… [SIGH] I don’t feel like I’m exactly in the best place to judge the… intersection [CHUCKLE] between free will and humanity. Still trying to figure that out myself.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] The more I listen and learn, the more it seems to me we’re all just… “groping about”. Trying desperately to find out what we’re actually meant to be doing. [PAUSE] These things that… loom so large over our lives trap us, and push us, and… sometimes kill us. But they never actually tell us what we’re supposed to be doing. So we scheme and we plot, lash out at each other without ever really knowing why. […] But I’m really starting to worry that there aren’t any answers. Not like I want there to be. There aren’t any answers in Ny-Ålesund; there aren’t any answers in the past; I’ve been inside The Buried, and there were no answers there.

(MAG146) ARCHIVIST: There is… nothing in the world more reassuring than ignorance which we can mistake for certainty. But no. Almost every one of those statements, those… people… that poor old man…

… and technically, she didn’t give any answer either, no certainty. So it really feels like the big purpose was to mess with him? (… to feed herself, maybe? She did mention that The Web was about “loss of control made manifest”, too, and that’s… what Jon is experiencing right now, although he’s aware that he is responsible for his own actions, and that he’s entangled in Annabelle’s plans.)

- One thing that Annabelle mentioned regarding how The Web operates:

(MAG147, Annabelle Cane) “Looking back, of course… and remembering the crunch of used syringes beneath my feet, I realise that addiction… is one of the strongest vectors of control there is.”

And as usual, could be an exaggeration/misleading/making you focus on the outside aspects and elements rather than their effects but… it’s indeed true that there is an enormous proportion of addicts, especially smokers, who have come into contact with The Web – I had finally noticed it thanks to MAG136:

(MAG016, Carlos Vittery) “I walked out there one day with the intention of smoking a cigarette, sat on the rusty garden furniture that had come with the place, and looked up. There it was – stretched between two large branches, silhouetted against the sky it sat. […] I leapt up, and started to head back inside, but as I did my eyes flicked wildly around the rest of the garden, and everywhere they came to rest I saw more lurking spiders, more webs. There were dozens that I could see, which meant there must be hundreds more I could not.”

(MAG056, Trevor Herbert) “In the early 80s, I was deep in the grip of my twin addictions. As I mentioned, after a while, The Hunt became an addiction of its own. Of the two, I’ve always found heroin the easier one to quit. […] But The Hunt… The Hunt is a purpose. It’s not just a way to get through the day, it’s a reason for there to be a day at all.” […] “she locked eyes with me. The weirdest sensation began to flow through me; I wanted to leave. It wasn’t like with a vampire, where I would feel like I’d been spoken to. This was just a sudden awareness of my own desire. I’d been sober for three years at that point, but I felt like I desperately wanted to get high, and I knew that the best place to get some was out in the night. Looking back, I think it might have been my own mind rationalising the way I felt my will being tugged out of the room, but it was still very powerful. If I hadn’t had a lifetime’s experience of identifying and fighting off the effect of the vampire’s gaze, I probably would have done it, too.”

(MAG059, Ronald Sinclair) “We never really got into any proper trouble – but the sort of glares we got just for smoking on the street made me want to break a window sometimes. I never did, though. I’m… not quite sure why I didn’t, to be honest. Before I met Ray, I… would have. There were plenty of broken windows in my past. There was something about living there, though, that… dulled the urge. My memories of a lot of my time there are, well… not exactly foggy, but feel almost like I’m watching someone else’s memories. I remember that it sometimes felt like I do things, without actually deciding to do them – like it was just muscle memory moving me, or a… string gently guiding me. It was never bad, or dangerous stuff, just… things I wouldn’t normally have done, like brushing my teeth.”

(MAG112, Alexia Crawley) “Brandon took to the role immediately, with a gravity and a weariness that I don’t think could have been entirely feigned. He was the only one who didn’t seem excited by the movie, and spent his off-hours smoking and reading quietly in one of the trailers. It was a shame because, for whatever reason, he also seemed to be the only one that Dexter would listen to. I only saw them talking once or twice but every time, Dexter would be wrapped, nodding at… whatever Brandon might have to say.”

(MAG136, Alison Killala) “Despite this or, maybe because of it… [Neil Lagorio and I] became friends. I think we bonded on that shoot; sheltering from the rain for hours at a time, watching a sobby animatronic jaguar gradually start to rust. I had to fight every instinct inside me, everything that wanted to burst out in admiration for his work and his… profound effect on my life. But instead I chain-smoked and laughed, trying my best to come across as my hero’s peer…!”

And it obviously put Jon’s smoking to mind. He had told Leitner that he had been quit for “five years” in February 2017 – except, well, he had cigarettes on him, so at this point, no, he was probably actually back to smoking already and presumably had been for a while. After he had opened the lighter’s package and denied smoking (MAG036, Tim+Jon: “You smoke?” “No… And I don’t allow ignition sources in my archive!”), Elias had commented about his smoking on July 29th 2016 (MAG040, “He’s not smoking again, is he?”) in a way that could mean… that either he knew about Jon’s Past As A Smoker, either Jon had been spotted with cigarettes recently (THAT’S CREEPY, CREEPY BOSS, ALL-SEEING OR NOT), and Tim’s snarky remark in February 2017 fit too well to think it was a completely random example (MAG079, “But he’s going to do something, and it’s going to be bad. And I don’t mean like ‘sneaking a cigarette’ bad – like, properly bad.”). Daisy spotted his cigarettes in MAG091 (“SILK CUT”. FOREVER REMINDER THAT HE SMOKES “SILK CUT” OF ALL THINGS.), he offered one to Gerry in MAG111, Daisy pointed out his lighter in MAG136 and Jon apparently Can’t Think About It (static and then changing the subject) so… something is definitely up with the lighter, at the very least.

-> The moment Jon stopped smoking roughly matches the time he joined the Institute (since he had worked there for four years when he began the series, second-half/end of 2015), but also the death of his grandmother (he mentioned in MAG081 that she “peacefully passed away five years ago”) – was it related to one of those two events? Because he’ll definitely need to channel again the Jon from back then who had managed to quit. (… if he ever did. Because uh. Telling Leitner that he had been quit for five years, while he had cigarettes on him, was… Jon. Jon. You had broken your streak a long time ago, you absolute hypocrite disaster.)

-> And it was ~because he had suddenly wanted a cigarette~ that Jon had left Leitner alone in MAG080, giving an opening for Elias to Brutal Pipe Murder him – something that Nikola would later use to toy with him, by mixing it up with guilt:

(MAG119) ARCHIVIST: It is not! It’s not, I didn’t know, it’s not my fault you died! LEITNER: No, I suppose not. Me, on the other hand… […] I understand, of course. You needed a cigarette! I suppose you should have remembered that smoking kills!

-> So once again: ELIAS, what do you KNOW about the Spiders running wild in your Institute, and about Jon’s lighter.

(- And the smoking/addiction being potentially usable by The Web puts me in mind of a few other people too:

(MAG144, Gary Boylan) “I’d been out easily twice as long as any time before. But my dad didn’t say a word about it – just sat in front of the TV, laughing at some crappy panel show, smoking that… God-awful pipe that left the wallpaper yellow and peeling. I remember thinking he wasn’t content to just destroy himself. He seemed to have to take everything out around him.”

Extinction statement but. Gary’s dad was a vivid picture.

(MAG113, Adelard Dekker) “The deaths were about a fortnight apart, and when the third came in with the same symptoms, Bianca, the coroner, called me in. For the last few years we’ve had an… arrangement. I slip her a bit of cash to feed a nasty habit she has, and if she’s called to any inquest which looks strange, I’m the first to know. Despite her weakness, Bianca is still a damn good coroner, and filled me in on the details quickly.”

………………. Adelard, who had been in possession of The Web Table at some point after its Hill Top Road days, and had been able to use it to bind and trap the Not!Them…

And. And. Technically, I cannot not mention:

(MAG049) ARCHIVIST: Supplemental. Elias Bouchard is a difficult man to pin down, certainly since he became head of the Institute in 1996, taking over from James Wright, who ran the place from ‘73 until he passed away. […] I found an old gossip column in the student newspaper that – sure well – that mentioned him. If I’m not reading too much into it, the implication seems to be that he was… something of a… pothead [CHUCKLE]. Was he… like that when he first came to work here…?

Listen: if I’m haunted by the mental picture of Elias, smoking weed in his office in March-or-May 2015 because the Institute’s budget is getting tight again, and suddenly shouting “You know what? I should totes KILL GERTRUDE to solve my problems. GENIUS!” while a spider scurries away.

then, you have to be inflicted with it, too.)

- Though Trevor had presented The Hunt as an “addiction”, and Jon’s own relationship to the statements had also been presented in such a way:

(MAG107) ARCHIVIST: I’d love to rattle off a lot of potential other reasons for this, nice rational causes of recovery, but… I feel we’re past the point of transparent rationalisations. It looks like the recording of statements has now passed over from psychological compulsion into… a more physical dependence. I don’t whether this is… some sort of classical addiction or something a bit deeper. But either way, this is not the time for experimentation. I’m on a deadline, and if I need to be reading statements to stay well enough, then I suppose that’s what I shall do.

Martin also name-dropped it in his list of potential reasons for Jon’s behaviour and the way he had attacked Jess for her live-statement, and then Jon first tried to blame it on an exterior influence before finally admitting that it was all him, wording it in a way… that indeed matches up with addiction too:

(MAG142) MARTIN: Oh, that can’t– that can’t… I mean, it’s not him, is it? Not, not really? It’s, what, addiction, instinct, maybe mind control, something like that? I… can’t believe he’d choose to do something like that. … No, no, I, I can’t think like that, though, I, I can’t let myself, ‘cause I mean, if, if he’s already gone, then all of this is just…

(MAG146) BASIRA: He knows exactly what he’s doing. ARCHIVIST: I don’t–! Uh, it’s not that simple, it–it feels… [BREATHING QUICKENING] … I don’t know if I can control it, I don’t know if it’s even me doing it…! BASIRA: … So you say you’re being controlled. ARCHIVIST: I–I don’t know. Maybe? Th–The Web, it–

(MAG147) ARCHIVIST: … Annabelle’s right, though. I mean– I can’t trust anything she says to not be another lie to further manipulate and manoeuvre us, but… deep down, I think she’s right. What I’ve been doing to these people, it– … It hasn’t been because I was… “puppetted”, or “controlled”, or “possessed”. I wanted to do it. It felt good. … But at least, I know I can stop. I just… [INHALE] don’t know how. I… [INHALE] I don’t… want… to stop… … Goddamn! This… [MUFFLED VOICE, COVERED BY HANDS] This one really took it out of me.

As of now, I’m not… utterly convinced by the addiction analogy for what is happening with avatars and people’s fears, though, but that’s mostly because I’m thinking in terms of effects, and the fact that in Avatars’ cases, the primary victims are not themselves but other people: here, the main problem is not that Jon has an addiction problem to (live or written) statements, but the fact that extorting live-statements causes pain, distress, fear and overall constant suffering, impacting and destroying the lives of other people (eg Jess). The fact that it makes him feel good or not… is not the most relevant thing as to why he has to stop it; I feel like talking of it solely as an “addiction” might be diminish the gravity of what he does a bit? (Which is why I’m grateful that Basira immediately summed up his actions as a criminal’s: yes, he’s attacked innocent people, yes, he’s acted monstrous, yes, he’s currently a danger.) (But then again… it could be a point to be made, that the statements are actually bad for Jon – that they feel good but that it is… a sort of reprieve, covering up other issues, and that no, fundamentally, these stories are still shattering him.)

However, it is probably the correct analogy to approach how they should get him to stop it or to control the craving – if… it is… even possible… which I’m not even sure about…

(- I am kind of expecting a talk about why the team shouldn’t just try to find a way to kill Jon off, if he can’t or won’t control it? Concretely, of course, it’s not like they would know how to do it: Jon heals fast, can’t harm himself, didn’t manage to get instantly destroyed by the Dark Sun. He has managed to get out of the coffin once and might be able to pull that off again – even if he went back inside willingly, he probably wouldn’t manage to stay inside forever, since he already had “regrets” about going inside after three days. Plus, Daisy had managed to get some distance from The Hunt and to separate herself from it when she was inside of the coffin, but we saw that Jon’s powers had still been active and kicking while inside – so that… doesn’t seem to be exactly an option for him (because The Eye is him/within him? Because The Buried relies on awareness, like The Vast, and it can’t totally be isolated from The Eye?)

But pragmatically, I still feel like the question of what-to-do-with-Jon-and-is-it-really-worth-it-to-ensure-that-he-stays-alive has to be raised…? (Or am I totally heartless for thinking that eh, even if I liked him a lot as a character, if he’s terrorising people and hurting innocents, then no, it’s not worth it, and I’m not interested in hearing him getting glimpses of genuine happiness or jokes or hopes while Jess and probably more are hurt and hurting and their lives utterly messed up because of him.) If Jon is going Monster and can’t/won’t stop, and given how the Assistants reacted, it might cross their mind, and rightfully so? I’m expecting them to at least contain/monitor him, as of now, to prevent further victims, although… it won’t solve anything on the long run. But I want it to stop, arrrrg orz Not solely because I don’t like random people getting hurt, but because it was… the reason… Jess had come to the Institute…

(MAG142) MARTIN: O–okay. Hum. [INHALE] Right, well… [EXHALE] Firstly, I’m re– I’m really sorry that this happened. Hum… in–in terms of next steps… JESS: Just, I just… I don’t know, y–you know, talk to him, I guess? J–just tell him, like, like, I mean that– it’s not okay. You know, right, I’m not… I don’t know what he did, but it– You know, he can’t just go around, and well, you know, just keep doing… MARTIN: Right. I–I understand. JESS: Good! … Well… You… I just, I don’t want to see him again, alright? Ever.

It was hard, it was awful to describe what had happened to her again, she got hit really badly by Institute, but she came because Jon had to be stopped… it was only for this that she came, we probably won’t hear her ever again, and I don’t want it to go to waste………………. ;_;

(YES, I know that we’re potentially heading towards a ritual getting completed and/or many, maaany people dying/getting tortured in the process – but I always find it harder to hear about personal stories than the overall broad picture, and I know that Jess won’t be okay ever (… well, Daisy confirmed the trick of signing up with the Institute to get rid of the dreams/come under The Eye’s protection, but Team Archives has never been… invested in saving/helping people they didn’t personally know), but it’s even worse if her complaint doesn’t mean anything in the end… ;;))

- Okay, so. Probably off-track and gratuitous long tangent but, eh, that’s what speculation is about, right?

I got a bit of a punch over MAG147’s date, because suddenly, time had moved… very fast towards a few Archives Anniversaries. Annabelle’s statement was dated 20th July, 2018; it’s already one month since the expedition to The Dark (Jon took Manuela’s statement on June 16th, in MAG143) and… we’re getting close to the anniversaries of both:

* Jane Prentiss’s attack on the Archives, July 29th 2016.

* The Unknowing attempt, August 06-07th 2017.

… And Jon is very conscious of the time passing, of the dates – he sighed about his perception of time in MAG123 (realising that two years had passed, and that he… hadn’t “lived” the entirety of them), and even mentioned the Institute’s anniversary as a source of dread:

(MAG127) ARCHIVIST: Whatever is happening now… has its origins two hundred years ago. In the work of an evil man. … Exactly two hundred years, in fact. Don’t think that little detail has evaded me. I don’t know the precise date the Institute was founded, but I do know that it was in 1818. … Something’s coming. I know it is. … But I just don’t know what I need to do.

These are of course also the anniversaries of Sasha’s death, Tim’s death. The reminder, too, that Martin is the last one of the original assistants still alive, and so far one has died every summer since Jon was appointed as Head Archivist – if there was a moment to panic over the Assistants “symbolically” being in danger because there is a pattern, it would be now. Daisy mentioned Jon’s PTSD in MAG142, we got a reminder that Jon still had Jane Prentiss’s ashes in his desk in MAG140:

(MAG140) BASIRA: Er… Jon. What’s this. [DRY SOUND] ARCHIVIST: Mm? … Oh. That’s… [SILENCE] That, uh, that’s… my rib? BASIRA: … Right. [PUTS IT DOWN] ARCHIVIST: Yup… BASIRA: And… the jar of ashes. ARCHIVIST: Not– Not mine; I–I mean, it belongs to me, I–I guess, but it’s not… Er, stationery is in the other drawer?

Could have been nothing more than a casual joke but with the anniversary at the corner… I’m not so sure.

But mostly, I’m thinking about Tim.

I’m still… very surprised that Tim was mentioned so little in season 4, when it had been extremely important for Jon that Tim make it back alive?

(MAG118) TIM: You thought you brought me in as a distraction, right? ARCHIVIST: What?! TIM: Let me do it! Go in, maybe you can get some of them– ARCHIVIST: Tim, contrary to what you think, I did not bring you here to indulge your death wish! TIM: It’s not what this is! ARCHIVIST: No?! TIM: No! You knew I might not be coming back! ARCHIVIST: I knew none of us might be coming back, and I’m not gonna let anyone get killed for nothing! TIM: Oh, except for those people in there! ARCHIVIST: They’re already dead! TIM: Not all of them! ARCHIVIST: I am not losing you as well!!

Sasha had been dead for more than six months when Jon realised what had happened, and Tim&Martin learned about it even later – even then, she was… mentioned so much. Nikola pretended to be her during The Unknowing, taunted him about the possibility of her resurrection (“Oh, you caught me~ I’m… Sasha! […] No~! Really, it’s me! Sasha– whatever her name was! Back from the dead, just like you wanted~!”), prompting a visceral reaction from Jon. Sasha was on Martin’s lips, too, when he confronted Elias and his (in)actions. But Tim… from what I recall, this is all we got about Tim this season:

(MAG122) ARCHIVIST: Er, the others. T–Tim? Is he… [SILENCE] Oh… [SILENCE] BASIRA: … Daisy, too. [SILENCE] ARCHIVIST: … I’m sorry. […] You’re… sure a–about Tim? BASIRA: Yeah, they, er… They found his remains a few days later.

(MAG123) MELANIE: How did you make it out, then, mm? ARCHIVIST: What? MELANIE: Tim is dead. Daisy is dead. And you, what? You’re just fine? ARCHIVIST: No, I’ve been in hospital for six months! […] Melanie, Melanie: it’s… it’s me. MELANIE: Oh! Okay, so what, “Hi Jon, how are you, get anyone killed lately?” ARCHIVIST: … I… MELANIE: Wipe that look off your face. Like you’re not the reason all of this is happening.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: She needs help, Basira. God, it didn’t even get that bad when I was… … Even Tim never threatened me. Not like that. […] So: we’re under siege; Melanie is aggressively unstable; Martin is working very closely with The Lonely, who is, predictably enough, isolating him; and, oh, yes, Tim and Daisy are still dead. Which is at least easy to keep track of! BASIRA: That isn’t funny, Jon. ARCHIVIST: I know it’s not–! … Sorry. It’s just… it’s a lot.

(MAG123) ARCHIVIST: I have no theories on it, no… no sudden insights. [SIGH] I wish I could talk it through with Martin. … Or Tim. [SHORT SAD CHUCKLE] Or Sasha. But we never really did that, did we…? … Everything’s changed. … [SIGH]

(MAG126) ARCHIVIST: A “Great Twisting”, that Gertrude stopped at the cost of a single life. … I thought… moving away from my humanity would have made that seem more acceptable. That sort of sacrifice… but it just makes me sad… … I remembered Gertrude’s notebook; we found it alongside the plastic explosives, but it rather got lost amongst the business of… [SIGH] saving the world at the cost of two lives…

(MAG133) BASIRA: Good. As far as I can see, Gertrude Robinson was the most effective person in this place. ARCHIVIST: … That’s what Tim said as well.

Plus, from Martin:

(MAG120) ELIAS: Hello, inspector. Martin. I’m… sorry to hear about Tim. MARTIN: Don’t. ELIAS: And Daisy, I suppose. MARTIN: Don’t. you. dare. ELIAS: I suppose it’s some consolation Basira made it out. And Jon – more or less.

(MAG138) MARTIN: I don’t know what he’s talking about when he mentions Millbank. The old prison, I guess? Tim said the tunnels under the Institute were all that was left of it, but… Jon said he’d checked them pretty thoroughly. [SILENCE] [SIGH] I’m not the one who knows all about this stuff…! I wish– … No. No, it’s fine, I’m… fine, I… [EXHALE] I can do this.

And I’m still sad, and a bit curious?, about the fact that… Jon had heard Tim’s last words to him, but told Basira he couldn’t remember how The Unknowing had gone:

(MAG119) TIM: Back! Get back! That’s right. Jon, I don’t know if you can hear me, but if you can… ARCHIVIST: [FAINTLY AND FAR] Tim…? TIM: I don’t forgive you. But thank you for this.

(MAG122) BASIRA: How much do you remember? ARCHIVIST: I don’t… Music. Everything was wrong. Gertrude was there, and then… dancing. I think? Then… pain. And I was somewhere else. Dreaming.

Are the memories truly lost, and they’ll never be aware of the fact that Tim pulled the trigger, took his revenge for Danny’s death, and saved the world – and that Jon was never to be forgiven? Or are they stuck somewhere in Jon’s subconscious? Are they buried and meant to be dug out, or… forgotten?

“Grief” has been surprisingly absent this season. We know that Martin had the added dimension of losing his mother – which had… already been an open wound for a while (her refusing to see him), made worse by Elias (revealing to him that she hated him, and why, and carving “what she was seeing” whenever she looked at him into his mind), until she died two months later, and… he explicitly bore that death alone:

(MAG127) BASIRA: Honestly, I kind of regret not just… grabbing Martin and shaking an explanation out of him. But I didn’t want to push it. He was in a… bad place, what with the attack and his mom and everything, so I didn’t press it. Now, I try and bring it up, he just… disappears. Nothing to be done. ARCHIVIST: So–sorry, you said… What happened with his mother? BASIRA: Oh, yeah. She died. About two months– ARCHIVIST: Oh… BASIRA: –after you, er… … Martin was… … He tried to stay strong. Keep it together but, that sort of thing… ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

(MAG129) ARCHIVIST: I, er… I heard about your mother. MARTIN: … Yeah. ARCHIVIST: I am… so sorry. [SILENCE] MARTIN: Thank you. [INHALE] It’s… [SHAKY EXHALE] It’s better, this way. ARCHIVIST: If–if you do need to talk, I– MARTIN: I can’t. ARCHIVIST: No. No, o–of course.

It makes a lot of sense, for Martin, to be especially vulnerable to The Lonely: he always had… trouble connecting with others, and his relationships were shown to be ultimately one-sided. He was hovering around and crushing on Jon while Jon was suspecting him of murder; his mother disliked him and refused to let him take care of her, trying to cut ties; even Tim admitted that he didn’t know Martin as well as he used to know Sasha, and avoided him like he did the other new assistants (we didn’t hear them interact again after MAG104, which only happened by accident and chance). He explicitly didn’t like Daisy, in season 3; had been snappy to Basira, and both Basira and Melanie didn’t have a lot of nice things to say about him, although Martin had shown sympathy towards Melanie in MAG108 (and then, Melanie fell deeper to the Slaughter bullet, and Basira began to turn more callous and calculating). Overall, the fact that he was aware that he hadn’t been able to notice that Sasha had been replaced probably didn’t… help.

But it’s mostly that absence of… anything about the loss of Tim that surprises me a bit, and I find it interesting that neither Jon and Martin apparently took the time to grieve. Aside from “addiction” (reminder that Jude used drugs too!), there’s something else that has been present in quite a few avatars’ storylines – depression. Oliver began to dream when he was depressed (MAG011, “I barely made it through a full year before the stress of my new job, not to mention some problems in my personal life, led to me having a full nervous breakdown. I’d broken up with Graham, my boyfriend of six years and had to leave the home we shared, going to stay with some of the few friends that had survived my year of stress-fuelled outbursts and constantly cancelled plans. It was there, sleeping on my friend Anahita’s sofa, in the depths of my misery, that I first started to have the dreams.”), Jude was going through a burn out when she met Agnes (MAG089, “The point was, that I burned through too much of myself, because I didn’t know what else I could burn. My girlfriend saw it, though she had no idea how to help with the deep depression that had settled over me. […] I was burned out in every sense but one. And that was the one that saved me. It was Agnes, of course. I don’t know where she found me, I only remember sitting in a booth with a beautiful young woman who smelled like matches and incense.”). Kinda goes well with “addiction” in the idea that the Fears tend to recruit people when they’re vulnerable? But keeping Jon in mind, Daisy, mostly, had repeatedly pointed out that he hasn’t been fine for a while:

(MAG136) DAISY: You need to stop moping. ARCHIVIST: I what? DAISY: You need to stop swanning around, being all sad. ARCHIVIST: I’m, I’m not “swanning around”– DAISY: “Boo-hoo, I’m so alone and a monster!” ARCHIVIST: I am alone, Martin is– DAISY: Busy. doing. paperwork. Not like he’s dead. Beside, he’s not the only other person here, you know. There’s me; Melanie; Basira– ARCHIVIST: Traumatised; traumatised; and paranoid, because of me. DAISY: Get over yourself! You’re always talking about choices – we all made ours. Now I’m making the choice… to get some drinks in. Coming?

(MAG142) DAISY: I, I mean, it’s pretty standard stuff. MARTIN: What?! DAISY: Used to see it all the time back in the force, especially with the Section’d. Not like there’s… “normal” trauma, you know? But it’s pretty common. The most important thing becomes control, engaging on your own terms. Even when it’s stupid or dangerous. Anything to not feel helpless. MARTIN: Oh, god… DAISY: And of course, for Jon, there’s survivor’s guilt in there, too. He thinks he’s not human. Makes him very… self-destructive. MARTIN: Yeah, well. We’ve all had trauma. DAISY: And everyone’s changed.

(MAG143) HELEN: … How was it? ARCHIVIST: Mm? HELEN: Looking upon The Dark. ARCHIVIST: I thought I was going to die. HELEN: You seem to think that a lot. I remember when you thought you were going to die at my threshold. ARCHIVIST: … Yeah.

And it would’t be surprising if the fact that neither Martin&Jon took the time, nor did work on grieving… contributed, a lot, to put them in such a bad headspace – Jon feeding from people, being in denial over his responsibility and not trying to actively stop it nor warning the others about it, Martin admitting that the temptation of The Lonely is working on him.

At the end of season 3, Tim’s very last scene, very last words… were technically a reference to a joke about depression&therapy:

(MAG119) TIM: You sound stressed. You know, I hear the Great Grimaldi’s in town. You should go see him. Cheer yourself up. NIKOLA: That’s. not. funny. TIM: I know. [LOUD EXPLOSION] [CLICK.]

(And Peter Lukas had offered Martin to go to therapy (MAG120, “And if you want to talk to a counsellor, the Institute will of course cover any cost.”), although… yeaaaah, coming from Peter, it just sounded. Plain bad.)

It introduced the theme a bit; season 4 then made it pretty clear that in this universe, actual therapy is not a bad thing. We saw it with Melanie, though she did express cautiousness about it (it’s not a Miracle Solution, some therapists are bad or don’t fit you). We saw it with Jess:

(MAG142) JESS: So. It… It took a long time to get over that. I mean… That’s not weird, right? I mean, it was a bad time. You know? It–it stays with you. I was signed off for, what, probably about six months, with the injuries? I had pretty bad, uh, nightmares, claustrophobia, I mean… Obviously, right? But, uh, but–but I did my physio, and, you know, talked wi–with the counsellor they gave me? Look, I did everything I was supposed to, and–and yeah, I… I guess I was fine. You know, once the bruises were gone, I… Well, it’s easy to blame memory, right? You know, ha–hallucination, coincidence, all the… classic shite you tell yourself. Look, life went back to… normal, I… I was fine. Until… [CHOKING] about two weeks ago. MARTIN: And that was when you met J– … Er, one of our employees.

Even Gertrude had directed Lucia towards someone – she sounded… very manipulative and lying through her teeth about the nightmares (? She would know that no, Lucia’s wouldn’t stop, especially after giving her statement?), but I have trouble picturing Gertrude doing the extra effort of recommending someone and actively searching for their contact information if it was just to get rid of Lucia (she really didn’t need to do so, the statement was over and Lucia hadn’t asked for anything!); if Gertrude recommended them, it’s probably that she genuinely knew that it could help?

(MAG130) LUCIA: H… uh. Will it help? GERTRUDE: I’m sorry? LUCIA: Telling my story. To you. Will, will it help with the nightmares? GERTRUDE: If that’s your primary goal, my dear, I would suggest you speak to a qualified counsellor. We can suggest one, if you like; that said, I do believe most people find the process of giving a statement to be rather… mm, cathartic. And whatever nightmares your experience has left you with, I’m sure they won’t be bothering you much longer. […] And do you feel any better? LUCIA: No. GERTRUDE: Mm, that’s a shame. Hang on, let me see if I can find you the number for that counselling service. They’re actually quite good.

We’ve had a broad gallery of characters handling their traumas in different ways, this season. Melanie is going to therapy, and whether her therapist is Web/Eye/Lonely or not… it is working to help her get some control over herself. She’s quieter, she expresses her boundaries – far from losing her voice, she is… reappropriating it. Daisy has not sought out professional help, but she’s careful about how she handles herself, the symptoms and how to prevent falling off – she seeks out company, she talks, she communicates, she tries to repair bridges, while remaining overall careful:

(MAG136) DAISY: [QUICKLY] You’re not babysitting me, alright?! I know that’s what the others think, sometimes, but… that’s not it. I just… don’t like… being on my own if I can help it. You know. Flashbacks, panic attacks, the usual. Just trying to avoid it if I can. ARCHIVIST: I know, Daisy, I–I do. It’s hard.

(MAG144) DAISY: No, I’m ju– [SIGH] Just ignore me. Continue with… whatever. [SILENCE] MARTIN: … Are you alright? DAISY: Yeah. Just a… a bit empty around here. You know? MARTIN: Not really. DAISY: Melanie’s out, and… [EXHALE] Jon and Basira’re still off. Bit worried. But they can take care of themselves, you know?

And on the other side, just like Jon and Martin, Basira just… tried to deal with things on her own, and partially failed and hurt herself in the process:

(MAG128) BASIRA: Do you know how I survived the… The Unknowing? ARCHIVIST: I… No. No, I don’t. BASIRA: No powers, no… magic or… help. I was trapped in that place, and so I tried to figure it out. And I did. A little. So I kept doing it. I kept going through until I got out. I… reasoned my way out of that nightmare. ARCHIVIST: Good lord… BASIRA: Then everything ended, and Daisy was gone. And you were gone. And Tim. And then I got back to the Institute, and Martin send me to meet the new boss. Then I stood alone in an empty office for more than one hour. I can trust me, Jon. That’s it. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH]

And it could be that Jon… should have gone for therapy, too, and never will. But if there was ever a moment for him to try it out as a way to handle himself, I feel like it could be now? He had been constantly adamant about not going for it and… his reject resurfaced very recently with Georgie:

(MAG058) MARTIN: He’s just under a lot of pressure. You know how messed up he’s been since Prentiss. TIM: How messed up he’s been?! MARTIN: Of course, I’m sorry – sorry, I didn’t mean that you weren’t, just– TIM: No! Because I didn’t start stalking my co-workers! MARTIN: Maybe try talking to him. TIM: Sure. Like he doesn’t already look at me like I’m a murderer. MARTIN: Look, look, you just got to let me work through this. Alright? I suggested therapy, but he just says no, so– TIM: Well, we need to do something! MARTIN: Yeah, maybe.

(MAG145) ARCHIVIST: I’m… I’m alright. I’m trying to, uh… rest up a bit. Take it easy. [HUFF] GEORGIE: Really? ‘Cause… I’m pretty sure I heard talking about a screaming headless corpse just now. ARCHIVIST: Oh… Oh. W–were you… listening? GEORGIE: Oh, uh. Didn’t mean to. You know. These… doors are not that thick. ARCHIVIST: [SIGH] … Fine. I’m deep in it. Had some… “close calls”. [SILENCE] GEORGIE: I’m sorry to hear that. [PAUSE] … You should probably get some therapy too. ARCHIVIST: [HUFF] Would you go with me as well? GEORGIE: … No. ARCHIVIST: Yeah. … No, I thought as much.

Because concretely, what can they do now, re:Jon, and what can Jon do about this “addiction” of his to destroy people…? Could be that precisely, it’s over, they’re just trying to buy a bit of time, but Jon is Done For, and either he’s dying at the end of this season, either he’s going full monster. But if there is a solution to at least attenuate the problem, my money is on therapy, with how the theme has popped up here and there, together with “control (of yourself)”…? (And it was especially jarring, in this episode, how… I got the feeling that Jon was aiming for Free Therapy in front of the tape recorder? Except it’s a one-sided exchange, it’s him talking to himself, and he’s not equipped for self-analysis.) (And there is something to be said, maybe, about how inflicting Fears and misery on others and the whole “Feed what feeds you, or it will feed on you”, is textbook “hurting others to not hurt yourself/to stop hurting yourself? So, I don’t know. It’s spooks, it’s alien entities, but we’ve always had a mix of supernatural and down-to-earthness when it came to dealing with the entities and their effects… so maybe there would still be a way to unravel Jon’s issues in a positive way, for once.)

(Aaaah, I’m mostly interested in the idea of Melanie and Daisy talking to Jon about the influence of powers and personal responsibility, potentially more… quietly, after a few days, once they’ve all cooled down. Because Daisy might feel grateful for Jon for having pulled her out of the coffin, and I really doubt she would give up on him. Melanie… a bit less, and she used to genuinely dislike Jon, but she still Knows What It’s like. Both would have rightful reasons to feel bitter/annoyed/mad, though, that Jon has been spilling advice here and there, presenting himself as the voice of reason… and was absolutely not following through with his own actions, once again.)

(- Re: Annabelle’s statement. I have no Personal Offended Feelings about the jovial call-out directed towards the red-strings theorist (“simply sitting and revelling in the inevitable cascade of paranoia, as those who hold Her in special terror cocoon themselves in red string and theory.”), because 1°) THAT’S FAIR BUT HOW ‘BOUT I DO IT ANYWAY, 2°) I’m mostly amused because it adds to the pile of things about how I live TMA as I lived Umineko. I already had a list of things they share that I was amused about (tea, comatose love-interest, and (DUCT) tape, etc.), and I can now add to it “writer using a female character to shout at his fanbase when they’re fumbling around trying to understand The Fuck Is Happening”. Spider woman really interested in stories, insufferable/absolutely awful Witch of Theatregoing, Drama and Spectating – same struggle.)

MAG148’s title is out and OOOOOOOH does it. Sound. Like. Another. Beholding episode. Which would be our 4th already this season – it’s… a lot more than previous ones, really making it feel like The Eye is getting more present and threatening. (Could technically be The Web, too, with that weird intertwining of them that we got lately! Or just plainly Annabelle again.) As for the content: there is an obvious joke to make about Elias and the title would also fit him awfully well (sob); obligatory thinking about MAG003’s Graham; Adelard Dekker had referred to half of it in relation to Gertrude back in MAG113… But mostly: it could… accurately describe the Assistants deciding to monitor Jon? And statement-wise, it mainly screams “PANOPTICON” to me. So. Historical statement once again from the Jonah-Smirke era – or even from earlier, from Jeremy Bentham himself…? (Or from Jonathan Fanshawe post-1831, because so far, with what we learned about him, he had gotten away, and I liked him and I can’t have nice things.) Not necessarily read by Jon; we could switch to Martin again, since Peter had stated that he needed the Institute for his plans, and he had already read Smirke’s letter to Jonah Magnus last time. (… Or it could also be from one of Jon’s three other unnamed victims from season 4 orz)

#1 #2 #3 #4 #5 #mag147 #tma liveblog #tma season 4 #the magnus archives #tma spoilers/#guess who messed up her schedule this week again #and has 'birth of a new witch' on loop #long post/#i'll stop using victorious-but-barely-conscious emoji when i'll manage to not post these at the last moment (sob.)#... ahahahaha posted the night of 6th-7th august so. obligatory. happy... anniversary... tim... *cries in tim*

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