#the last one i did was gerry keay i think

[slow-writer]

TMAGP Episodes 7 & 8 Reactions

That was totally my face during both episodes, I swear.

Spoilers below!

Okay, I'm freaking out on a cellular level, it feels like.

Episode 6 had the introduction of new OIAR employee, Celia Ripley, who is voiced by Lowri Ann Davies. Those of us from the TMA fandom recognize her as the voice of Lynne Hammond who later became Celia because her name was taken from her after the Change. There have been speculations on whether she is playing the same Celia (even though this is a separate universe) or if this is just a little wink from Jonny and Alex behind the scenes. But then came the next 2 episodes.

The sheer amount of lore that was dropped in these 2 episodes has the fandom REELING. So, let's get into what we've heard!!

EPISODE 7: Right off the bat, Celia not only references that the dated computer system is basically better than "wrestling with tape recorders and manila folders." This feels like a TARGETED MISSILE at the TMA fandom. But right after that, she asks if any of the spoken cases have anything in common, and if there's a way to search the cases that have common threads, like, "Oh I don’t know. Every case about being buried alive or meat or… whatever." And if that wasn't enough, she recognizes the voice that Alice calls Chester (AKA, John!).

Those statements alone have me thinking with 99.99999999% certainty that this is the SAME Celia from TMA (or at least, she's tapped into her memories in some way).

Apart from Celia, we have Hilltop being referenced in a case, which could very well mean that it's a similar situation from TMA. Very possibly a rift in space-time or whatever. Some nexus of power or something.

Then Sam received a supposedly internal email from someone called "John" that contained an address and a name. Does this mean that John is truly trapped in the computer system like we've all been theorizing? Is this his attempt at making contact and warning Sam not to follow in his footsteps? AGH!

And then we have poor Colin, driven mad by whatever's corrupting the code he's been trying to maintain, taped over his webcam, and full on refusing any electronics to enter his office (that weren't already there, and he must have clearly tampered with them so they cannot spy on him). He even attacks Sam when he pulls out his phone. That man has a lifetime subscription to Paranoia Plus, if you ask me, poor thing.

Lastly, we get confirmation that Lena at least tried to kill Klaus, but may not have succeeded, and Gwen's blackmail of her puts her in a new role of "External Liaison," whatever that may be. (Oh boy, oh boy.)

And if that wasn't enough, we have today's episode....

EPISODE 8: No preamble on this one, just straight into a case. And man, are we having fun with the whole liminal horror plus Stranger vibes in this one! But the GOOD SH*T comes after the case ends.

Poor Colin's been put on Mental Health Leave, so I'm really hoping that wasn't the last we'll 'see' of him. And the banter between Gwen and Alice has much more of an edge now that Gwen's been promoted. But!!!

Sam and Celia went off together after they ended their shifts early (ooooh), and who did they meet?

GERRY EFFING KEAY AND HIS 'GEE-GEE' GERTRUDE!!!!

And I checked, yes, they are 100% voiced by their TMA counterparts, Jon Gracey and Sue Sims (Jonny's mom).

Gertrude calls Gerry her grandson (though I'm curious if this means Gerry's actual mother is dead here too, and when Gertrude stepped in as a surrogate, or if she's actually his grandmother).

When Sam and Celia ask about the Magnus Institute, they both kind of go quiet, like they don't know what they're allowed to say or if they can trust these strangers who randomly showed up to their house. Sam reveals that he was part of their "gifted kids" program (hello, ARG info!) and saw Gerry was also listed and wanted to "swap stories." Gertrude seems to want to push them away, all protective, but Gerry just says he doesn't remember much.

Did Gertrude blow up the Magnus Institute in this universe and adopt Gerry after she found him there?!?

And finally, after Gertrude kind of rushes them out, Celia makes a deal with Sam. They agree to keep track of anything that falls under each other's mystery interests. Because she's "doing a favor for Georgie" (HFGJHFD!), she needs to look into "Weird physics stuff: time travel, other dimensions, teleportation, all that good stuff."

Was Celia sent here from the TMA dimension to do recon?!?

Anyway, there's so much more to dive into, but those are the things that are currently making my brain buzz. How has your Thursday been?

#the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #tmagp #tma #spoilers #lore #im freaking out here wtf

[crochetedblorbos]

"Dying's not so bad. It's staying dead that sucks."

Character Name: Gerard “Gerry” Keay

Fandom: The Magnus Archives

Voiced By: Jon Gracey

Yarn Used: Skin: CraftSmart Value - Off-White Shirt/Trousers/Shoes: Red Heart Super Saver - Black; heidi & jo iron-on applique Hair: CraftSmart Value - Curry; Tulip Colorshot Fabric Spray Paint - Black Face: Park Lane 10mm plastic eyes - hazel; Red Heart Super Saver - Black Tattoos: Red Heart Super Saver - Black

Basic pattern here.

Okay, so if I’m being honest here, this particular Gerry is 100% influenced by the version in “Awake and Unafraid” by blasphemous-lies-and-deceit, who is amazing and deserves all the love. (Not that I don’t want to hug canon!Gerry too, but holy hell.) I will also confess that I had to undo him at one point; I’d been working on him steadily for a while, and then set him aside in favor of NaNoWriMo, whereupon he promptly got swallowed up by the hellscape miasma that is my room. I finally unearthed him in a moment that can best be described as “I have discovered every single godsdamned thing I have been looking for in the last six MONTHS and also the Ark of the Covenant and Jimmy Hoffa, and yet I cannot find the one specific thing I am looking for and which I only purchased a week ago” and started working on him again. Unfortunately, I had no idea where I was in the pattern and what variants I had actually done, so I unraveled most of his torso and started over. This is why it has taken me almost a year between Hux and Gerry.

Oh, well. At least I can confidently tell you that I altered the “base” pattern as follows:

Shoes: Black combat boots, baby! Like with Mini and Hux, I kept the color the same, but otherwise the shoes are the same as before.

Trousers: I was trying to give him baggy black jeans, so I wanted them to come down over his shoes. Thus, when I got to the top of the boots, I did a round in the front loop only to give myself a little ridge, then did a round of treble crochet in the front loops of that before going back to sc for the rest of the trousers. (I think. I forgot to write this down as I was doing it and it’s been, as previously mentioned, around six months since then at time of writing.) I also wanted to give him some artistic rips in the knees, so I switched to the white I’m using for his skin and did front-loop in the black around it to give it a bit of texture and make it look like they are, in fact, torn across the knees. Deliberately or not, your call.

Shirt: I wanted Gerry to be wearing a kind of baggy, shapeless shirt, and also to be a bit taller and lankier in the torso, with a slightly longer neck. I also put him in all black because that’s how he’s always described, so I worked him the same way as Joseph (just without changing color) up until R36, and then: R37: Ch 2, hdc in each fpdc around, sl st in first hdc (38 hdc). R38-48: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (38 sc). R49: Ch 1, [sc in next 17 st, inv dec over next 2 st] twice, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R50: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (36 sc). R51: Ch 1, [sc in first 2 st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R52-53: Ch 1, sc around, sl st in first sc (27 sc). R54: Ch 1, [sc in first st, inv dec] 9 times around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R55: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R56: Switch to skin color. Ch 1, sc in back loop of each st around, sl st in first sc (18 sc). R58-59: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (18sc). I also added an iron-on patch to give him a design on his shirt. (Fun fact, I bought three different patches and kept losing them before I could find my iron, which I had stupidly put away where it belonged.)

Head: I always picture Gerry as having a long, thin face and a slightly larger nose, so I followed the base pattern for his head up to what is R60 on the original pattern (but is R64 on this pattern due to previously-made changes), and then: R65-70: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). R71: Ch 3, dc in next 26 st, puff st in next st, dc in next 15 st, sl st in first dc (41dc, 1 puff stitch). R72-77: Ch 1, sc in each st around, sl st in first sc (42 sc). Continue from R72 on original pattern. Unfortunately, I didn’t stuff him as much as I should have, so his neck is kinda floppy. I’m working on a solution to that.

I also used safety eyes for the first time here! And oh my God they saved so much time. I wasn’t sure they were going to work in the package, but once I got them in his face, I liked them a lot! I embroidered a little smirk for his mouth. Used yarn this time because I finally had a yarn needle to do it with and didn’t feel like digging for my embroidery floss by the time I got to his mouth, and I like it.

Hair: Yeah, I’m a ginger!Gerry convert, what of it. Anyway, because his hair is always described as “badly dyed”, I initially considered using a variegated yarn, but couldn’t find one that would do what I wanted it to do, I decided to badly dye it myself. I wrapped a hank of yarn around a piece of cardboard, tied it off, and cut it, then spread it out on said cardboard and sprayed it with black fabric spray paint I found in the clearance aisle at Joann Fabric. And, as if it knew why I was doing it, it just…wouldn’t…take. I must’ve sprayed, rearranged, sprayed again, let dry, untangled, discovered that I’d just done the surface, resprayed, moved, and sprayed again about twelve times before I thought I’d got it. I hadn’t. Finally, I gave up and sewed the mottled orange-and-black mess onto his head (which was a headache and a half, especially since I wanted him to have a side part), discovered that it was neither as long nor as thick as it had looked before I put it on his head, debated starting over, decided not to, took him back outside, and covered his face with a paper towel, then sprayed the hair again, this time while it was already on his head. That way a) it dyed the scalp as well, and b) I could hope it stuck. (It also occurred to me that I was doing this on the front porch, right on the EDGE of the porch, and that it was, if not raining, at least very humid, and I wondered if that was affecting it, so once I’d sprayed his head down, I brought him inside and let him cure that way.) The yarn still soaked up a lot of the dye, but at least it’s more or less evenly covered…and it does, in fact, give the effect of a bad dye job, so…success?

Arms: I did Gerry’s arms the same way I did Hux’s, except that I gave him short sleeves rather than long ones. I also made them a little bit longer than normal, partly because Gerry is a little bit taller and partly because I was an idiot and wasn’t counting properly.

Trenchcoat: I may have made this slightly more complicated than necessary, but I like how it came out, so: Ch 48. R1: Dc in third ch from hook, dc in each ch across, turn (46dc). R2-5: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (46dc). R6: Ch 3, dc in first 17 st, fpdc around next st, skip next st, inv dec, dc in next 4 st, inv dec. Skip next st, fpdc around next st, dc in same st, dc in next 17 st, turn (43dc, 2 fpdc). R7: Ch 3, dc in first 18 st, bpdc around fpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec in back loops, dc in next 2 st, inv dec in back loops. Skip next st, bpdc around fpdc, dc in st behind, dc in next 18 st, turn (41dc, 2bpdc). R8: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, fpdc around bpdc from prev row, skip next st, inv dec twice. Skip next st, fpdc around fpdc from prev row, dc in same st, dc in next 19 st, turn (39dc, 2fpdc). R9: Ch 3, dc in first 19 st, bpdc around next 2 fpdc, dc in next 19 st, turn (38dc, 2fpdc). R10: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R11: Ch 1, sc in eacn st across, turn (40sc). R12: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in each st across, turn (39sc, 1ch). R13: Ch 3, dc in first 38 st, dc in ch sp, dc in next st, turn (40dc). R14: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R15: Ch 1, sc in first 38 st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R16: Ch 3, dc in first st, dc in ch sp, dc in next 38 st, turn (40dc). R17: Ch 3, dc in each st across, turn (40dc). R18: Ch 1, sc in first st, ch 1, skip next st, sc in next 38 st, turn (39sc, 1ch). R19: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 18 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (38dc). R20: Ch 3, dc in first 9 st, inv dec, dc in next 16 st, inv dec, dc in next 9 st, turn (36dc). R21: Ch 3, [dc in first 8 st, inv dec] three times, dc in next 3 st, turn (33dc). R22: Ch 3, dc in first 6 st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 11 st, repeat *, ch 6, skip next 3 st, repeat *, dc in next 6 st, turn (23dc, 4 extended stitches, 12ch). R23: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 13 st, sc in ch sp 6 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (27hdc, 12sc). R24: Ch 2, hdc in first 7 st, inv dec in back loops 3 times, hdc in next 13 st, inv dec in back loops only 3 times, hdc in next 7 st, turn (33hdc). R25: Ch 1, sc in first st, hdc in next st, dc in next st, tc in next st, dtc in next st, [YO x4, insert hook into next st, pull up loop, YO and pull through 2 loops x6]*, ch 4, inv dec in hdc 10 times, hdc in next st, ch 4, repeat *, dtc in next st, tc in next st, dc in next st, hdc in next st, sc in next st, turn (13hdc, 2sc, 2dc, 2tc, 2dtc, 2 extended stitches). R26: Sl st in first sc, sc in next 5 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next 11 st, sc around chain and into edge of extended stitch 4 times, sc in next five st, sl st. Fasten off. Sleeves: Join yarn to st in armhole. For row 1, ch 1, sc in first st (mark starting st), sc in next 19 st around, join (20sc). For rows 2-10, ch 3, dc in each st around, join (20dc). Add buttons to sc rows of front opposite ch sp if desired. (I do so desire, I just haven’t done it yet.

Tattoos: Gerry’s tattoos are embroidered on in backstitch. I only did three (one on each hand and one on the back of his neck), because I was doing it in yarn and it was way too thick for anything tinier, but what the hey, he doesn’t technically have “joints”. (The ones on his knees don’t show because the holes are sagging below the joints. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it!)

#blorbo from my shows #crocheting #the magnus archives #tma #gerard keay #scopophobia tw

[envihellbender]

Michael and Gerard naked in front of each other for the first time

Characters: Michael Shelley, Gerard Keay (The Magnus Archives)

Content: fluff, smut, nsft/nsfw

—

Gerard slipped his Cattle Decapitation t-shirt over his head without even thinking about it. He was too busy focused on Michael’s intense kisses on his lips, cheek, chin, and neck. His long arms were wrapped around Gerard’s waist and his hands were pawing at him, desperate to touch as much as he physically could. It wasn’t until Michael stopped and looked down at him, those warm brown eyes tracing over every inch of Gerard’s torso, that he began to feel self-conscious of his soft chest and the way his gut stuck out over his black cargo trousers. Not to mention the sigils burned into his skin, a lasting reminder of what his mother did. He felt as if Michael’s eyes were tracing over every one - he felt like his mother’s acolytes were staring at and grabbing him again.

“Are you- sorry, erm- was that-” Gerard began to stammer. He wondered if it would be less awkward if he redressed. Michael blinked out of his daydream and looked back up with big brown eyes.

“You’re so beautiful. I had to take in every inch of you, Gerry,” Michael answered, a small smile on his lips and his voice dazed. Gerard’s cheeks burned red, he looked away feeling foolish and flustered. Before he could reply, Michael was unbuttoning his plain white shirt as his lips grew dry.

“You don’t have to-” Gerard began, eyes fixated on Michael’s pale thin hands.

“No! No I want to,” Michael said, his small breasts were hidden by his white binder. He paused for a secondly and awkwardly pulled it over his head. He stumbled and struggled a little, grunting as it clung to his neck and curl hair as he was released from it. Gerard watched entranced, holding Michael’s small waist, his fingers gripping onto his bony hips. “Erm. Sorry, I- is this okay?”

“Absolutely,” Gerard said quietly. He pulled Michael into his arms, their bare skin touching. They both felt warm, soft and so close the lines between the two of them blurred. Gerard pulled Michael backwards toward’s his bed, sitting down on the low mattress awkwardly but not letting go. He felt his small cock hardening as Michael pressed his bare skin and breasts against his. His breath quickened and deepened, catching in his throat as he felt Michael’s hand against his crotch.

“This okay?” Michael asked, Gerard nodded ferevently with an ‘uh-huh’ as Michael’s kisses became more insistent. “I want to taste you. I want to taste you so bad.”

“Fuck, yes. If- if that’s okay. Fuck,” Gerard stammered. His skin becoming hot to the touch as he felt his prick twitch. They shuffled back on the bed, Michael leaving a trail of kisses down his front until he was looking up at him from between his legs, pulling down his trousers and boxer shorts to reveal a soft patch of ginger hair and his small chubby cock. “Erm. Sorry I erm-”

“Why are you sorry?” Michael asked bemused. He had a mischievous smile and bright eyes as he kissed and licked the tip before rolling his lips over the head.

“Fuck,” Gerard gasped, his eyes rolled back and his hands found Michael’s thick blonde curls. In return Michael’s thin hands found their way to Gerard’s chubby thighs and soft behind, causing him to whine slightly. Michael stopped for a moment, he pulled away and giggled as Gerard whined.

“Just getting these out the way,” he smirked, pulling down Gerard’s trousers and boxer shorts from just above his knees to being discarded unceremoniously on the floorboards. He tried not to look at the sigils scarred into Gerard’s skin, he ignored the pang of sadness in his chest. That’s not what tonight was about. His slim body slipped perfectly between Gerard’s thighs as he took his entire length in his mouth with ease.

#envi writes #doorkeay #the Magnus archives #tma fanfic #Michael Shelley #Gerard Keay

[soppingwetrat]

i don't think the name and address that Jon sent to Sam was Gerry's. like look at what he says to Celia when they're talking after existing Gerry's apartment:

[ID: The image shows a transcript of episode 8 of the magnus protocol. It reads:

Sam: I know Alice wants me to drop this whole Magnus thing, but, well, I had to try. Not that it matters. Dead ends all the way down. End ID]

i feel like he wouldn't refer to it as "the magnus thing" if these really were the contents of Jon's email. like he definitely would've mentioned the email to Celia. i think he genuinely went to Gerry just because he was looking over the old magnus gifted children files and saw that Gerry was the one who came closest to scoring as high as Sam did

[ID: The image shows a screenshot of the list of gifted children from the magnus protocol ARG. The last row reads Samama Khalid. The penultimate row reads Gerard Keay. End ID]

i guess that just leaves the question of what did Jon send to Sam? and will we hear ab it in the next episode cause im literally clawing at the walls of my enclosure

also since there is someone named Connor Dyer in those files, i wonder if he's noticed and if he'll go and question Alice ab it??? or maybe he did notice but he isn't questioning her bc he knows she doesn't like him investigating the incidents

hmmmmmmmm

#tmagp #tmagp spoilers #samama khalid #rat rants

[princess-of-purple-prose]

For Day 7 of @jongerryweek​: Alternate Universe

In a Scottish safehouse, Gerry Keay settles in to listen to the Archivist read his first statement since the three of them—Martin, Jon, and the supernaturally bound Gerry—came to Scotland.

It doesn’t go well.

Inspired by this post. Read on ao3!

“Sap.”

It takes a full four seconds for Jon to respond, glued as his gaze is to the retreating back of his boyfriend. Good thing, too, because when his eyes do snap away, Jon doesn’t take his usual care to keep his voice low.

“Shut up,” he snaps, cheeks already darkening, but his glare doesn’t really have that same effect when that blush definitely reads more besotted loverboy than it does angry Archivist. He glances back quickly at the hallway, and when it’s clear Martin’s out of earshot, he pouts—actually pouts—at Gerry. It’d be cute if it weren’t disgusting. And if Gerry hadn’t been privy to a million tooth-rotting moments before this one.

Is this infinitely preferable to when Gerry was Jon’s sole audience for every infatuated daydream about his beloved? Yes. Could Gerry do without being a voyeur to every smitten glance across the room? Also yes. He’s had quite enough of watching, thanks.

But forget that, because he has a very important question to ask. Again.

“So, are you planning on telling Martin about our little situation? Like, ever?” Jon’s mouth does that funny thing it does when he wants to say something but doesn’t know what. Gerry raises his eyebrows, trying to look unimpressed, but he’s not sure of how good a job he does at hiding his amusement. Gertrude might have been a hell of a lot more effective than the guy sitting in front of him, but you’d never get shit like this with her. Say what you will about Jonathan Sims, but the guy really knows how to liven up an afterlife. “Well?”

“Yes!” Jon bunches up his shoulders before deflating. “Yes, of course I will. It’s just, we’re still settling in, and there’s still a lot to, uh, go over, I guess, before we get to I’m being haunted by a goth by the name of Gerry Keay, yes, that one, and—”

Gerry nods sagely. “And Martin is the jealous type. Yup, gotcha. Take your time.”

“What?” Jon actually looks confused. “No, he—where did you even get that idea from?” Gerry snorts. Jon frowns.

“Seriously?” Jon’s frown upgrades to a scowl. He raises his hands placatingly. “Alright, fine, I was joking! You know your boyfriend best; I’m just a dead freeloader who’s been forced to watch every single interaction you guys have had in the last year, what do I know.” Jon keeps glaring, but Gerry is kind of the king of waiting things out now, so he just arches an eyebrow and smirks. Jon, looking very unimpressed, drops it with a sigh and heads to his chair, statements in hand.

It’s obvious that Jon has been waiting for this even more than he’d let on from how quickly he situates himself at the desk which Gerry’s still kind of surprised about being up here in this unused little attic space. He could almost be back in his office in the Archives, with that laser focus fixed on the papers stacked before him and impatient hunger shadowing the lines of his face.

Jon’s fingers skim over the papers he’d taken at random, but his shuffling doesn’t fool Gerry; he separates a few pages from the pile without even looking at them, an easy sureness in his selection. Must be a juicy one, Gerry thinks, and then immediately regrets his choice of words. Jon’s statement hunger has only recently started setting in since they arrived here, but it’s obvious it’s weighed on him in more ways than one.

Gerry’s pretty sure he’s been forgotten for the siren song of some poor bastard’s trauma, but right as he’s testing leaning against the door (something he’s had mixed success with), Jon gives a little twitch of the head and lifts his gaze.

“Ah, Gerry—are you staying for this one?”

Gerry pulls a face. He should leave the room, probably. It’s not like it’s ever a fun time listening to baby’s first Entity encounter, and Jon can’t even do his fun little monologues at the end all the way out here, so far from the Institute’s resources. Unless he Knows some things about the case, he guesses, but that seems like it has more potential for harm than good anyway. And neither of them are usually all that keen on having Gerry listen to the statements, honestly. But…

“I’ll sit in for it, sure,” he finally shrugs. With the cabin empty, there isn’t much else to do. And even with its thick walls, he gets the feeling that he’d feel the echo of the statement following him if he tried leaving. He thinks for a second of the familiar sound of Gertrude droning in another room and the way that her voice had a habit of reaching you even where it shouldn’t, like the smell of cigarette smoke drifting through a closed door.

Jon raises his eyebrows but nods, attention already turning away as he flicks up the papers and gives them a sharp tap. Gerry settles in against the door—leaning while standing doesn’t work, but sitting cross-legged does. Wonders truly never cease. He closes his eyes firmly as Jon’s smooth baritone starts up, because pettiness is all he doesn’t live for, and relaxes back into the wall. He’d never admit it, but Jon’s voice has its own odd comfort to it by now, no matter what horrible things he uses it to say things with. Familiarity breeds comfort and all that. Shit, no, that’s contempt. Anyway.

“Statement of Hazel Rutter, regarding…” Ooh, classic Desolation, Gerry thinks, almost opening his eyes out of interest before he remembers himself. Unless it isn’t, but he bets himself two withheld snarky comments around Martin that it will be. Pretty predictable, that lot.

He tunes back into the statement, almost perversely curious to see if this was something that happened in Ms. Rutter’s actual childhood or if there’s, like, a last will and testament involved, but the little introductory spiel statement givers seem so fond of giving… doesn’t happen.

Hello, Jon.

He opens his eyes.

“Jon?”

Jon doesn’t look up. Okay, fine, he should’ve expected that—recorded statements cast a spell over more than just the listener, after all. But Jon’s hands are trembling despite their death grip on the paper. They never do that. Statement givers don’t usually address the Archivist by name, either.

Most worrying of all, though, is that Gerry can feel static in his teeth.

Turns out even the veil of death isn’t thick enough to escape the Archivist’s static, so he’s gotten used to it again in the last few months. The thrum of power that accompanies the reading of a statement isn’t that strong, but it’s unmistakable, and it’s never borne down upon him with such weight, dead or alive.

Apologies for the deception, but I wanted to make sure you started reading, so I thought it best not to announce myself.

Gerry doesn’t get to his feet so much as he finds himself upright and hovering just off the ground without any in-between. If he had a functioning heart, he thinks it’d be jackhammering right now. He recognizes the voice Jon is using right now, though it takes him a second to actually place it.

“Jon?” He doesn’t mean to say it that time.

I’m assuming you’re alone; you always did prefer to read your statements in private.

It’s almost insulting to hear the presumption in Elias’ voice. Then again, for all the use Gerry is right now, he might as well be. He watches as one of Jon’s hands uncurls from the paper, the simple motion looking like it cost him an unspeakable amount of effort. It jerks in a quick, ugly motion, nothing at all like the wing-like flutters Gerry’s borne witness to on a few occasions. Then it goes back to clenching the edges of those papers like Jon’s life depends on it. He still won’t look up.

I wouldn’t try too hard to stop reading; there’s every likelihood you’ll just hurt yourself.

Gerry’s seen Jon record enough statements to know how it should go by now. His face doesn’t slacken, exactly, but it often takes on a shadow of the emotions he’s reading out as his voice changes entirely. The tension in his shoulders releases only to rewind for the climax of the statement. That’s about as far as Gerry looks. (He never looks very closely at Jon’s eyes when he reads. He has no interest in seeing what is or isn’t there while he does.)

So just listen.

Gerry’s looking now, desperately searching Jon’s face for anything that would explain where this is going, why the static in the room is only rising. Jon’s eyes seem lucid, which only worsens the fact of the terror flooding every line in his face. Gerry’s seen a lot of horrifying things, but the sight of Jon looking like he’s doing his best to choke on his own tongue and failing is… It’s not good.

Now, shall we turn the page and try again?

It feels like Gerry’s frozen in the seconds it takes for Jon—not Jon? Possessed Jon? Fucking Elias “Magnus” Bouchard?—to turn the page. Jon, for his part, is trembling like an earthquake’s started up and he’s the epicenter.

Statement of Jonah Magnus regarding Jonathan Sims, The Archivist.

Oh, no.

Statement begins.

Oh god.

There’s a sound like a thunderclap, but Gerry can’t tear his eyes from Jon’s shaking form. His face is still twitching with the failed effort to stop speaking, but his voice carries smoothly despite the struggle playing out across his face in a way Gerry didn’t even know was possible.

He doesn’t have veins, but Gerry can feel adrenaline pounding through them anyway, harmonizing with the rhythm of the statement and the pain that sings through his insubstantial bones. Gerry’s hands are shaking—another relic of living he’d been happy to forget. The static ratchets higher, fuzzing his hearing and sharpening his vision, and all of it emanates from the bony, quaking man before him.

Something funny is happening to Jon’s features. Like he’s being limned in light from the inside; like he’s something other than human. But the fear on Jon’s face is unmistakable. He doesn’t look possessed. He just looks like Jon.

Gerry doesn’t want to get any closer to Jon. He really, really doesn’t. But hell, he’s spent his whole life and then some doing things he didn’t want to. What’s an intervention in a ritual to end the world between friends?

As it turns out, literally nothing.

Gerry’s pretty familiar with bad jokes. He could write the book on cruel irony. He is the book on cruel irony. So he can say, with authority, that this is the worst joke he has ever seen. His hands go right through the paper no matter how many times he tries ripping it out of Jon’s hands, and he curses his stupid translucent fingers and the stupid tattoos on them that don’t seem to care to help him here.

Gerry has spent a long, long time swamped in a rage so sorrowful it tastes bitter. Now he feels it more intimately than he has in all the months since Jon’s return. He’s worse than useless like this. He’s barely a person; he’s barely a presence. He can’t tear the papers out of Jon’s hands or clap his hands over Jon’s mouth or eyes to stop him from reading. He can’t even run out the door to find Martin and beg him to stop this train from derailing. He doesn’t even think Jon can hear him.

Gerry wishes, distantly, that he’d paid more attention to Gertrude’s obscure hints about knowing how to stop the Watcher’s Crown. Then again, he doesn’t think even she could have foreseen this exact scenario.

In the end, all Gerry can do is back away from the desk and float, enraptured as surely as Jon. The statement is a hook through his own throat, and it feels like the oxygen which has been meaningless to him for so long is igniting in it. It’s almost like being back in the book; time is a haze, and so is Gerry.

The thing that jolts Gerry out of it, horribly, is the tears. Jon’s voice has fully settled into the statement, and Gerry is doing his very best to avoid looking at his face. But somehow the trembling drop of water catches on some last glint of light in the darkening room, and Gerry’s whole being arrests at seeing it fall from Jon’s chin.

Gerry was at Jon’s side when he thought the Circus would skin him alive. Throughout and till the end of an interminable hospital stay from hell. When he’d climbed into a Coffin without expecting to walk back out. When he died.

He’s never seen Jon look so scared.

For an absurd second, Gerry wonders if the mere fact of Jon’s tears could save them, in a twist of something like irony or poetry, but it doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t. Tears keep sliding down Jon’s face, and still, he keeps. Reading.

Gerry can’t sink back into that daze after that, and he doesn’t do Jon the disservice of trying to. He lets the dread and grief and fear flood like icewater in his non-lungs, and along with Jon, he learns of puppet strings and men playing at god. He learns it’s possible to hate Gertrude Robinson more than he already does. He learns the world doesn’t stop finding ways to kill you, just gets more inventive with them, and he thinks he might cry too, if the ability was left to him.

The tears don’t save them, but they signal some kind of ending all the same. Jon’s voice goes low and victorious, and the statement crescendos. The static reaches a vibrating, soul-shaking peak, and Jon looks holy and sainted and heartbreakingly, horrifyingly human. And Gerry is—something is happening to Gerry. There’s a pressure, one like nothing he’s ever known. Like he’s so deep underwater he can’t see the surface, or like lightning has struck right next to him. Gerry gasps for air before remembering he can’t.

And then lightning does strike, the windows blowing in with a single shattering cacophony, and the pressure spikes to something unbearable. Whatever was lighting Jon from the inside out extinguishes at the same time Gerry’s vision goes black, and all Gerry can think is— Huh. It doesn’t hurt.

#tma #tma fanfic #gerry keay #jonathan sims #tma fic #my posts #my writing #kay talks #HI GUYS. READ THIS ONE PLEASE :)))) i started it so so long ago and #jongerry #week inspired me to get it done even if this is platonic!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #withering wonders

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 102 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: putting up a new fence

ELIAS: "But you have a job to do, and I cannot fight your battles for you." JON: "As far as I can tell, the only battles I’ve been fighting have been yours and Gertrude’s." Yeah, that's basically what I said last episode when Michael said it wants revenge. That was not Jon's battle. As well as Jude. Or the gorilla skin. Or Prentiss!

ELIAS: "I should have thought preventing the horrific transformation of our world is not solely my concern!" Unfortunately Elias has a point there (to some degree...).

I said in MAG 92 that I wasn't completely convinced Elias is the big bad on my first listen because I didn’t know his motivations yet. Wasn't convinced at this point either and that sounded like he did have some beneficial motivations to humankind. I mean, Michael said something about not wanting the Archives to win either but, ehhhhh??

ELIAS: "There is a possibility some of them were misfiled." What? Gertrude misfiling statements? No!

JON: "How do we – How do I stop it?" Still the lone wolf. Still trying to fight this war alone. Still trying to keep the others safe by not having them around him. Still thinking the fate of the world is his responsibility to bear alone. (I mean... it kinda is... But not in the way he thinks of it.)

JON: "Is there anyone else who might know what it is, or, or where? Aside from Leitner, or Gerard?" ELIAS: "Sorry, Gerard Keay?" Yes, Jon, or Jared Hopworth? The way you pronounce it nobody knows! XD

ELIAS: [Sighs] "Melanie is on her way up here with a knife. Could you talk to her for me?" Meaning, could you please let yourself get stabbed by Melanie so I can cross off that Slaughter mark on my trauma-to-do list for you?

MELANIE: "No! But the way I see it, the police seem really keen not to investigate crimes committed here." ELIAS: "That’s actually fair." JON: "Shut up!" I mean, comedic relief and all, but in canon also provoking Melanie even more?

I admire everyone who can read French as a second language because I am utterly lost when it comes to French pronunciation.

Excuse me, is the statement giver roasting all everyone over the age of forty working at a bar just because he thinks of it as an dishonorable job?

"I am deeply grateful it was rare that we had children in Le Papillon, as the one time they came in while he was on shift with him, he vanished for almost twenty minutes and, when he returned, it was clear he’d been crying." And that, my dear readers, is the reason why you never ask people about their family planning. You never know what the other one has been going through or had to deal with.

"something to the smell itself, some memory of a childhood spent in the country around Lyon, of wandering out in the damp heat after a summer rain, of turning over logs slick with moisture, to reveal the crawling underbelly beneath them." Is it weird to say that this description fills me with nostalgia and I wish it was a rainy, but bright day so I could to exactly that?

"At the time I thought he was your son. His French was significantly better than yours, and it took some time and some difficulty translating before I could fully explain to you what had happened." I'm guessing this refers to Gertrude and Gerry making their intentions known, as understanding the statement giver was no problem for Gertrude I assume.

"I should have been more suspicious of this man, too old for his poorly dyed hair," This statement giver and their presumptuous views of how people have to be when reaching a certain age really pisses me off.

JON: "Statement ends." From the tone of his voice is looks like he still said it under the influence of the statement. He only starts to stutter after this, like blinking awake after a trance.

JON: "Did he know already? That his life was ending?" Did Gertrude know about Gerry’s tumor? And if yes, did Gertrude choose him because of the fact, that he wouldn't live much longer anyway? A life that would end one way or another in just a short time and conveniently also holds a connection to the Eye.

JON: "In the meantime I… I have a new flat." Wait what? How much time is there between Jon popping up in Elias' office and him finish reading this statement?? I always thought Elias might have given it to him and he read it asap? But that would leave no time to find a new flat I guess? Or maybe did Elias organize a new flat?

MARTIN: "Look I’m, I’m so sorry, John, I – Elias didn’t even tell any of us that you’d been kidnapped. I didn’t know – No-one else was telling me – And there wasn’t any –" JON: "Oh. Hey. Hey, hey, hey… It’s alright, it’s alright." THIS interaction was such an unexpected punch to the gut for me. It's so raw and honest, of both of them. I think this might be my favorite non-canon-ship-yet interaction of them.

MARTIN: "But I’m sure that if you could have been, you would have." Always putting good faith in him.

MARTIN: "Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you?" JON: "No. No, no, I’m… I’m okay. Just – I mean my skin’s in better condition than… ever. Is that a weird thing to say?" Gallows humor to deal with a traumatic event. Classic!

JON: "Does the rest of the Institute know what’s going on down here? I mean, I never really paid attention, but…" MARTIN: "N-Not really? I think?" Mary mentions this in MAG 62. Some kind of dream logic that always happens around the Fears, making others blind to what's going on?

MARTIN: "I mean, they can quit." This kind of implies, that they are not tied to the Institute (and Elias) in the same way as the Archive staff is. Which will kind of come up by the end of S4 again.

JON: "E-Elias mentioned… he said you’d been… reading statements?" MARTIN: "Oh… uh… yeah. Um… He thought it might help." JON: "Right. I-I-I mean, they’re not… They haven’t… You’ve been okay?" MARTIN: "B-B… Yeah. I mean, i-it wasn’t fun, but… I mean, if it, if it helps then I –" JON: "Okay. If you’re sure, just… Make sure the others help you, alright? Statements can be… If you’re not used to them it can… be a bit weird." MARTIN: "Er… Sure." Oh come on, that whole conversation is just as much fan service as it is meant to show character development (on Jon's side, obviously. Martin's always been flustered when Jon showed him compassion and care).

JON: "I’m, I’m sorry, Martin. We haven’t… I know we haven’t talked much since… Sasha and everything." Taking this as further... substrate (does this make sense in this regard?) to rest my headcanon of S2 Martin and Jon spending more time together (lunch breaks) upon.

MARTIN: "Well, I mean it’s not too late, y’know. Unless the world ends." [LAUGHS NERVOUSLY] JON: "Yeah." ・_・ (I mean... he'll come around before the world ends?)

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 102 #tma #tma spoilers

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 62 - apple cutting

Mary has such a creepy voice…

MARY "I know the Institute and me haven’t always seen eye-to-eye" - Firstly, pun. And secondly, this is interesting, as Mary is a von Closen descendant. Is it because she refused to give herself to a single entity (which was traditionally the Eye in her family)?

MARY "To think there was a time before he’d stamped them with his mark. I feel we must have called them something." - Yeah, I also thought of this. We now call those books "Leitner" with an obviousness because we only learned about them after they have been marked with Leitner book plate.

GERTRUDE "I wouldn’t know. I can’t say we ever crossed paths." - Do we know when Gertrude and Leitner started working together? Is she telling the truth at this point?

MARY "You… don’t really go out and look for yourself, do you? Just wait here for the researchers’ leftovers." - It's so funny how everyone looks down on the Eye. Happy all got fucked, either by Gertrude's badassness or in the Eyepocalypse, all of the Watchers knew who their boss was.

MARY "Well. They don’t understand up there. They don’t know what this place is. You do, though, don’t you?" - <.< (The rest of the institute must think the Archives are an absolute mess.)

(Cont.) "We’re on the same side, really. Even if Elias disagrees." - Same side of what? Preventing rituals?

I'm having so much trouble following Mary's statement… And it's not getting better, this is my 4th relisten and my brain just goes to stand-by-mode. I couldn't remember a single thing from the statement itself when I first listened…

"I could lie and say that what I saw made me afraid, but I think we both know the thrill of watching that murder inspired a very different feeling within me. A dark, vicious thing that to this day I can’t fully name. But it was beautiful, and strange." - Jeez…

"I crawled from my hiding place so slowly, so quietly, she barely even stirred as the blade glided through her windpipe." - Mary is just fucked up… Poor Gerry… (And Eric, though he did choose to be with Mary at some point. Children are never given that choice.)

"My inclinations, predictably, were more toward watching than doing the deed myself." - Eye-aligned nonetheless.

MARY "But I’ve always found a singular devotion far too restrictive. Just ask Eric. Or what’s left of him." - ok, what's Eric got to do with singular devotion and its restrictions? Anyway, Gertrude hasn't seen Eric in years at that point. I wonder, what was going through her mind when Mary told her to ask him.

MARY "Here, you can keep this page." - Ah, the leftovers that are Eric.

GERTRUDE "I could rather do with a cup of tea, I think." - She sounds shaken here. Did she already see it was Eric's page? (I mean, the name is in the last sentence of a page of the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead) Or did the statement also take it out of her?

Just as Jon says, there is a lot in that one!

Finding a key, after a Keay's statement. Poetic.

Those floors in the Archives, ts ts smh… Trapdoors, hidden compartments. Be sure to check your Archive, might find a Panopticon beneath it.

It’s depressing how she treats Eric’s page like she did his body: as a tool to be disposed of once it’s no longer useful.

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #tma spoilers #mag 62 #lycanlovingvampyre #mod elian

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Yay! More randomly generated tma incorrect quotes!!

I really like the incorrect quotes gernerator...

Martin: Is… Is that meant to be on fire? Daisy: No… not really. Martin: Are you going to do something about it? Daisy: Hm… nah.

Basira: My ultimate goal is to punch God in the eye, just to spite him one last time.

Angnes: I can’t tell if you’re a genius or just incredibly arrogant. Jon: Well, on a good day, I’m both.

Tim: So what are your political beliefs? Jon, awkwardly trying to impress them: Well, I think Pikachu would be a lot more powerful if he had a gun.

Helen: Sometimes I like to place my hands on someone’s cheeks, look into their eyes… Helen: …And violently jerk their head until it snaps. Basira: …That took an unexpected turn. Gerry Keay: So did their neck.

Jurgen Leightner: You know, when Tim comes over, Helen can get a little… Elias: Psycho? Gerry Keay: Scary? Sasha: Drunk? Jurgen Leightner: All three.

not shasha: What if we were stranded on a desert island? Who would you eat? Martin: Angnes. not shasha: So fast? Wh-what about me? I would eat you! Martin: That’s very nice, I guess. not shasha: Why wouldn’t you eat me? I’m your best friend. Martin: Look, if other people are having some, I’ll try you.

Daisy: Sorry I'm late, I was doing stuff. Helen: YOU PUSHED ME DOWN THE FUCKING STAIRS!

#tma incorrect quotes

[thisentertaining]

Martin and Gerry Foster Brothers AU part 2

In which Gerry ages out, and Martin realizes some spiders AREN’T good for the local ecosystem. 

Part 1 Part 3  Ao3

Also, ignore that the boys home didn’t exist since the 60s... I didn’t see that when I was prepping. This is taking place during canon Martin’s childhood years, 

“Is there any way I could tell you to stop playing with that thing without getting a 20 minute lecture about the ecosystem?”

“Maybe. If you call her by her name.”

“Ughhhh. Fine. Martin, please put the soul devouring eight-legged monstrosity that you call Petunia away. You do know Spiders aren’t supposed to live 3 years, right?”

“I know that.” Martin said as he gently placed the arachnid onto the windowsill. “This is probably Petunia the 50th or something like that. Unless you think it’s one of the Smirke monsters from the books.”

“The monsters aren’t from the books, there are just monsters and books. And the books can be monsters.”

“Right, sorry.” In the years that they had been friends, Gerry had told Martin a lot about the ‘fear entities’ that his mom had served. Martin had come to the conclusion that Mary Keay was a very, very disturbed individual and it was a very good thing that Gerry had gotten away from her when he did. That would be true even if you did believe in these dread powers and eldritch horrors. Martin… wasn’t sure if he believed.

Gerry definitely did, told stories about how ‘no these aren’t from a cigarette, there was a Leitner that turned your freckles and imperfections to burns’ and ‘Yeah my mom broke my thumb but that was the only way to stop me from reading the book that would make me go blind’ and ‘I can hold my breath for over two minutes, I had to learn because the Atlas of the Sea Leitner made you feel like you’re drowning but we needed information from it’. It had scared Martin a lot, had sent him to a school counselor actually. The nice man had gently and kindly explained that sometimes kids who were abused from a young age had odd ways to process it, to protect themselves.

That seemed… reasonable, but the one time he had broached the subject with Gerry, the teen had spit something about not being a part of the Spiral’s domain, and he knew what he saw. Martin had never mentioned it again, and he wavered. Sometimes he thought that there was no way these things could be real. Other times he thought that there was no way Gerry could have such detailed explanations for something that he made up. “Regardless, I don’t think Petunia is one. She’s not even venomous.”

“This whole place is web Martin, woven so strong that even I can’t escape.”

“Do you want to go into the city then? Just get out of the place and the webs for a bit, stretch our legs one last time? I know that they’re still there,” That was Gerry’s common argument when he mentioned going into town, “But it’s gotta feel at least a bit less oppressive, right? And besides, it’s second Saturday.”

“Right, what is that one again?”

“Miss Bunson. We can get you a pastry for your birthday.” He said the words in a tempting sing-song, smiling through the tension that was running through him at the thought of his friend’s coming of age. Gerry scowled.

“Can’t. I have to pack.” He spat the words shortly, clearly just as unhappy as Martin. There was a moment of tense silence before the older teen-now young adult- sighed. “But you don’t need to help out. It’s not like I have much. Why don’t you go down and get something for us to split.”

“I’m not leaving you. Not today. Not when-“

“You’ll be back in plenty of time to send me off, it’s not even lunchtime yet and they always come in the afternoon. Besides, I’ll be back. Or, not back, but- I’m not leaving you Martin. As soon as I get a cell phone I’ll call you, and until then I’ll write. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

Martin swallowed, and it was like he was 11 again, in that hospital and walking away with the social worker with a sucker in his mouth. He still couldn’t stomach peach flavoring. “Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Gerry said firmly. “I promise, Martin. I’ll be there for you. You’re like my brother, my anchor.”

Martin nodded solemnly. He wasn’t sure what anchor meant but… “Brothers. We are the family we have left.”

“And family sticks together, real family.”

The younger teen let out a deep breath. “Fine. Okay, I’ll get you your pastry.”

“Something chocolate.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Not willing to risk it, Martin grabbed Gerry into a tight hug before rushing down the road. It probably was better for him to get out of the house, and the older teen knew it. He only really messed around with Petunia when he was stressed, when things were going outside of his control. Not that he ever had any control really, he tried to grasp it when he could, but it always seemed to slip from his fingers like his handholds were no more than spiderweb.

Oh, that was a good one, he should use it for his next poem. Maybe he could get beyond an honorable mention for once.

Arriving to town, Martin alternated between shy smiles and obtrusive head ducks as he wove through the buildings. After so many years, the village knew him well, and he knew who to avoid. He also knew who he could convince to do some bending of the rules if a sufficiently polite and shy abandoned child hinted to it. Miss Bunson was one of them.

She owned a small bakery in town, and had an agreement with her family to go on a blind date at least once a month. She was hopeful, but either she was extremely picky or her family were really bad at figuring out her type, because come the next day she was disappointed, bitter, and lonely. She felt bad about really ranting to her family though, but was more than willing to complain to a strange child who one day discovered that she would ply him with free desserts for as long as he looked earnest and made the right commiserating noises.

While it would look weird to any observer, it was a good deal for both. She got to vent out all of her anger to a neutral party, and he got the kind of treats that they rarely got at the boy’s home. Also, there was something nice about seeing that not all adults have their lives together. That even people with their own businesses and families and friends could sill feel… lonely sometimes. He also hoped for the day that she would actually come with good news, she really was a sweet person, it would be nice to see that loneliness end.

The bell on the door cheered just as happily as ever when Martin bounded through the door, though he had to duck when he accidentally hit a bit of a wreath that had been put up. He was going through a growth spurt and sometimes still struggled with realizing how tall he was. Mum had been fairly slight, but in his memories of his father, the man was towering. He had no clue how tall he would get, but he was already catching up to the 17- er- 18 year old Gerry. “Hi Miss Bunson! Hope you’re doing well! I just wanted to duck in to see if your date las night was better than the last one.”

“Ugh! Martin take a seat. You would not believe what they did. So, we went to that fancy place over on fifth, awesome great, but then-“

___

Martin stepped out of the bakery with a deep breath, finding the bracing cold and clean scent almost a relief after the oven-warmed bakery and the myriad of scents. It was kinda funny, the way stepping into the bakery had been such a welcome thing when he stepped in. Contrasts he supposed. He waved at the window as he left the homey spot behind, chuckling to himself. For as unfortunate as these dates ended up being, Ms.Bunson sure made them entertaining to hear about.

Martin brought his backpack around to put the pastries away- a chocolate peppermint tart that was overwhelmingly peppermint-y. The bakery was still very much experimenting with their holiday flavors and this was a bit strong. Gerry would probably like it though, he went through mint gum like mad.

 A rough shoulder bumped into Martin and the teen had to scramble not to drop the treat. He looked up to see one of the bigger jerks at the home sneering at him as he swaggered away. Martin looked away timidly. Without Gerry he didn’t tend to pick fights with the meaner kids, and besides nothing at this boy’s home got worse than a few shoves and mean words anyway. He could ignore it, he was used to it.

The stranger thing was that the boy was in the village at all. He and the cronies around him tended to stay in the common room, hogging the telly and making the younger boys too nervous to enter. He almost never came into the village proper like this unless…

Fear shot through Martin and he sprinted off, stuffing the pastry into his pocket and ignoring his half-open backpack. The only time that they came into the village were those odd moments where everyone collectively left the building when someone was being aged out. It was a wordless understanding to give the now-homeless teen their privacy to leave, respected by even the biggest lowlifes of the home, but that meant-

Martin felt like he was fighting something as he ran to the house, like he was sludging through muck or being pulled back, but he kept his mind on his brother and carried forward, even as he panted through a familiar path that really shouldn’t be this much effort.

He arrived just as Gerry was led through the door, his eyes blown wide in fear even as he walked emotionlessly behind Mr.Fielding. The caretaker glared at Martin. “What are you doing here?” He sneered. “You’re supposed to be in the village.”

Martin struggled to breath through his reply. “I-I wasn’t going to let Gerry go without being here to see him off.”

Something was wrong. Something was very very wrong. Why wasn’t Gerry saying anything? Why wasn’t he moving? Why was he looking at him like that?

Raymond scowled, and Martin was preparing to beg, when something… odder happened. The man’s hair… parted strangly, moving in a way contrary to the wind, and Martin was almost certain he saw something-several somethings- shifting in it. Tension left the man’s body and he nodded almost absently. “You’ll come with us, then. He always wants more, after all.”

But I’m only 15. Martin wanted to say. Who is ‘he’ and what does he want? But he found himself unable to open his mouth. His body seemed to move without his permission, following dully behind Mr.Fielding. All at once, Martin understood Gerry’s odd behavior, and believed his stories without a doubt for the first time.

This… whatever this was, it was the work of monsters beyond the ‘coping mechanisms’ the counselor had gone on about. This was real and it was terrifying. He followed the two older men into a basement he’d never known existed, where he was surrounded by human-sized bundles of white and walked through spiderweb after spiderweb, despite following behind two people who should have broken them.

His legs shook with effort as he mentally tried with everything had to escape, despite his legs no longer seeming to be of his control. Gerry’s breathing was heavy and terrified, and Martin’s matched it’s cadence. It felt like he was struggling against bonds that moved him on, hooks and ropes moving him that he couldn’t control no matter how he fought.

From the ceiling, a- a beast descended. It looked like a spider, black and bulbous with a body bigger than Martin’s girth and Gerry’s height combined. The fangs themselves seemed to be the length of an ear of corn, dripping with noxious-looking venom. Martin shuddered from his place, fighting against invisible bonds without moving as Gerry took step to painful-looking step closer to the beast.

At his hand, he felt the familiar tickle of Petunia crawling on his hand, and for the first time ever wanted to brush her off. She, or whatever spider was crawling on him, avoided his fingertips as it scuttled back and forth along his hand and wrist. The back side of his brain, the hindbrain that was in extreme denial that any of this was happening at all, noted that she was avoiding his hands because of the peppermint. He’d read once that it was a insect deterrent.

Oh. Well. He was about to do something absolutely monumentally stupid, wasn’t he?

Martin stopped fighting against the bonds, stopped trying to run away. He instead moved towards the beast, quickly overtaking the still-struggling Gerry. It was like he’d been struggling against a rubber band the whole time, like it was so used to people pushing back, it wasn’t ready for someone to step forward, to come towards the spider. The beast itself seemed surprised, looking up at Martin in surprise as it opened it’s mouth to brandish fang and mandible at him.

Quickly, Martin pulled his wax paper bag out of his pocket, shoving the hopefully-poisonous tart down the creatures throat. Whether the peppermint was truly effective or if the creatures was just choking, it didn’t matter. It worked well enough to break both of them from their hold. Raymond roared in anger, a wholly foreign sound from a usually mild-mannered man. Gerry didn’t hesitate, flying at the man and decking him across the face. The man’s head crumbled like it was a puppet head, or a bundle of something-flimsy making up the shape of a man, and Spiders started swarming out. With a cry of fear, both teen’s ran to escape the basement, shoving the door closed behind them.

Gerry started running down the hill, but Martin turned towards the building. “What are you doing?” The older teen asked, terror still ringing through his eyes. “The’re going to get into the house!”

“They- They’ll just come after everyone else if we can’t- if we don’t- if-“

The goth jumped back and forth before his face set with resolve, as though he wasn’t sure he agreed, but he was determined to follow Martin regardless. They ran into the house. “What’s the plan?” Martin asked.

“What?” Gerry asked, incredulous. “This was your idea!”

“Well I don’t know how these things work! You’re the expert!”

“If I was the expert at killing these things, they’d already be dead! I’ve lived here for years.” The boy shook his head, trying to think. “Fire? I think fire usually works. Unless its one of the fire ones.”

“And this isn’t a fire one, right?”

“No! It’s a Spider one!”

“Well I just wanted to be sure, I don’t know!”

Martin ran to the kitchen, and the two boys ransacked through the draws, searching desperately for a book of matches. For a long moment, there were no sounds but the clattering of drawers and cutlery, and the ever-loudening sound of thousands of scuttling feet coming closer and closer.

Martin looked up and yelped, seeing the familiar sight of Agnes standing silently next to the stove and kettle with the same placid expression she always had when asking him for tea. Despite being around 20, she was still here. He had no clue how she had avoided the evil spiders. “Wait- w-what are you- I thought everyone- never mind it doesn’t matter. I don’t have time for tea, we need to find matches!”

The girl did not reply verbally, as was normal, and instead simply cocked her head in a curious expression. “W-w-we I- There are spider monsters in the basement! People have- there are bodies down there, they’re killing all the boys who aged out. We-we-“

“We’re stopping it.” Gerry interrupted Martin’s terrified blundering. “Everyone’s gone so we’re burning this place to the ground, keep it from happening to everyone else.”

Martin could count the number of times that he’s heard Agnes speak on one hand, and they’d ‘hung out’ for years. Still, he’d never heard her speak so much as she did then.

The girl smiled and spoke with a voice like an aged smoker, with a bit of puberty’s voice breaks cutting in, though on her they sounded like a crackle of flame. “That sounds like fun.”

Then she turned and, no match or lighter in sight, touched the cloth curtain over the nearest window. It burst into flames.

For a moment, neither Martin nor Gerry said anything. Then, Gerry swallowed. “That works.” And he sprinted out the door. Martin followed as the fire started spreading to the wall. He turned when he realized Agnes hadn’t moved. “Hurry!” He called. “Come on.”

She looked surprised, then smiled the soft-fond smile she gave back when he’d handed her the first cup of tea. “I’m fine.” She stepped into the growing flames. “I’ll be picked up soon, but I want to watch it burn. It’s beautiful.”

Martin swallowed, mouth dry from exertion, heat, and fear. Then, without another word, the fifteen year old ran for the exit, ignoring the pained whining of thousands of dying spiders behind him. Looking down the hill, Marin could see the village starting to stir as the burning building was first noticed by those below, but Gerry had gone the opposite direction, waiting for Martin by the woods. The younger teen joined his brother and they watched the orange flames lick higher and higher up the house.

No spiders tried to escape.

#TMA #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfiction #tma fanfic #tma fanfiction #gerry keay #gerard keay #martin blackwood #agnes montague #raymond fielding

[gh0stlymoth]

nice try, 21. also 11, 12 and 13 lol

Thank youuuu gwyneth <3 [[[:

11. Favorite comment you've ever recieved on your work?

There are a lot of tags and comments that i treasure, so this is by no means my singular favourite comment, but "My entire brain went wubushbuwuwub when i saw this" made me laugh really hard (but seriously if u ever left me a longer tag or really any tag, i cherish you and thank you, i never say thank you enough but i really do appreciate you)

12. Show your favourite drawing from this year

[ID: digital drawing of jon from tma, drawn with limited color palette of various shade of purple, grey, blue and brown. He is standing somewhere smoking, holding a cigarette in his right hand and with his left arm crossed, clutching is right side. they have a very tired, a bit concerned look on their face, exhaling the cigarette smoke. a large faint eye with a green pupil is floating behind him. Jon is a slim british indian man with short wavy hair with grey streaks and various worm scars over his face, neck, and arms. They are wearing glasses and a collared shirt under a jumper. End ID]

I know this didn't do that well but i love this one, i like limited colour palettes in general and i think i just. did a good job on this afkjafk

13. Show your favourite drawing from last year

[ID: digital drawing of Gerry Keay from the magnus archives as a ghost. They are a slim british man with pale skin, badly dyed black, long straight hair, burn marks below their neck and on their arms and eye tattoos on their joints. He is holding his page of the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead, with his entry written on it, in his left hand, on which he also wears an aro ring. In his right hand he holds a purple lighter with eye motif, where he also wears an ace ring. They are looking straight at the viewer with a somber expression, his body around him seemingly fading. He is wearing a light blue hospital gown. Text around them reads: “I have grown tired of this body. A cumbersome and heavy body.” End ID]

A tie really between a lot more drawings than i thought, but i will put this on here bc again, i just think i did a great job on it and it's one of the few drawings were i look back and still like it :)

21. Weirdest thing you've ever drawn?

Elias X Barry Bee Benson.

#the ghost answers #dickwheelie #elias x barry Bee benson is closely followed by Kirby Elias

[evelyn-the-archivist]

🕸Click.

ARCHIVIST

Do I read it out loud, or is it fine to just read it in my head?

JULIA

In your head? Why would that do anything?

ARCHIVIST

Mh. Some books are more powerful than others.

TREVOR

I mean, I'd consider this one pretty powerful.

ARCHIVIST

Fair point. Different kind of powerful, then.

JULIA

Yeah. Definitely feels like a separate thing from Trevor's vampires, or your knowledgey whatever.

ARCHIVIST

It is.

[BRIEF SILENCE]

JULIA

Ah, just give us a knock when you're done.

ARCHIVIST

Of course.

[DEPARTING FOOTSTEPS]

Ahem.

"His-"

[INCREDULOUS] His? Damn it, Gertrude. At least use the right pronouns for them when you inscribe their death onto a page made of their own skin in a cursed book.

"His consciousness faded in and out like the tide. He tried to refuse their drugs, though for what purpose even he could not have said. Perhaps he was simply trying to push away the smell of disinfectant and grief that rose from his hospital bed. She was there sometimes, the one he had followed around the world. There was almost sadness in her eyes. He felt himself begin to slip, the icy certainty of what was happening seeping through his flesh, and as he fell away for the final time, he felt that all-consuming fear. And his only thought was to cry out for his mother. But with the last vestige of his stubborn will, he refused. She would not claim his last moment. He was silent.

[OMINOUS RUMBLE WITH A SIDE OF CRACKLING RISES TO CRESCENDO]

And so Gerard Keay ended.”

GERARD

Evelyn? The hell?

ARCHIVIST

[SOFTLY] Hi, Gerry. Been a while, huh?

GERARD

[SURPRISED] Yeah. It- it has. Did you know?

ARCHIVIST

About what she did to you? Of course I didn't. I would've stopped her, which is probably why she didn't tell me.

GERARD

How is the old hag, anyhow?

ARCHIVIST

Well, she's gotten pretty well acquainted with Terminus in the past year, I'd say.

GERARD

Damn. What finally did her in?

ARCHIVIST

I think... Elias?

GERARD

[LAUGHS INSINCERELY] Fucking perfect. That's a satisfying conclusion if there ever was one.

ARCHIVIST

A satisfying conclusion, hm?

GERARD

Who's her replacement, then? Sasha?

ARCHIVIST

[QUIETLY] No. It's- it's me.

GERARD

...Oh.

ARCHIVIST

I wasn't the first pick, though. Some skeptic named Jon Sims was put in before me and lasted all of seven months.

GERARD

Wow. Elias really dropped the ball on that one, huh?

ARCHIVIST

Who knows? Maybe it was on purpose. Elias may not be a Weaver, but he definitely has his plots.

GERARD

I hated that bastard. It's not enough to be evil, he has to be a smug dickhead about it.

ARCHIVIST

Careful, wouldn't want him to see you saying that.

Er- as nice as it is to catch up, I actually wanted to talk to you about something important.

GERARD

Big surprise.

ARCHIVIST

You worked a lot closer with Gertrude than I did, right? Is there anything you can tell me about the Unknowing that I wouldn't already know?

GERARD

[SIGHS] Straight to business, huh?

ARCHIVIST

I'm sorry, Gerry. You know that's just how our lives are.

GERARD

You call this a life? Not only does being a part of a damn Leitner hurt like hell, I get the fucking pleasure of being a bloody monster manual for the Van Helsings out there.

ARCHIVIST

Is there... is there anything I can do?

GERARD

Rip me out of the book. I'll tell you what I can about the Unknowing, then when you get back to the Institute you burn my page.

[SOUND OF PAPER RIPPING]

[GERARD INHALES SHARPLY]

ARCHIVIST

Done.

GERARD

[CHUCKLES] No hesitation at all, huh?

ARCHIVIST

Not for a friend.

GERARD

...Thank you.

Alright, so Gertrude and I did a lot of busywork trying to figure it out. She figured that since so many aspects of it were replaceable, it couldn't actually be stopped beforehand, just delayed. But once it actually started, it could be vulnerable.

ARCHIVIST

To?

GERARD

Dunno. But she thought she had something that could do it.

ARCHIVIST

Do you know where I could find it?

GERARD

Not long before I ended up in the hospital, she told me that if something got her first, I was… There’s a storage unit on an industrial estate up near Hainault. She said she rented it under the name Jan Kelly, and hid a key for it somewhere in the Archives.

ARCHIVIST

[TO HERSELF] Storage unit near Hainault. Rented to Jan Kelly. Key hidden in Archives.

And she didn't tell you what it was?

GERARD

No. When I asked her, she said she’d show me when we got back to London. Mind you, she had this weird look in her eyes, like it was some kind of a joke.

ARCHIVIST

Oh. That's, hm. Not very funny?

GERARD

Eh, she didn't really tell jokes, so I'm not surprised it fell flat.

ARCHIVIST

Heh. Is there anything else you can tell me about the Unknowing?

GERARD

Don't think so. I can't even guess where or when it'll be. Gertrude only told me about the things I could help her with.

ARCHIVIST

That's alright. You've done more than enough, Gerry.

Wish we'd had a chance to just, hang out at some point.

GERARD

You said it yourself, it's just how our lives are.

ARCHIVIST

Yeah...

Do you think, before I burn you, I could summon you one last time and we can do a proper catch-up? It'd be nice to talk to you without any of the usual stakes.

GERARD

That sounds nice. And you promise it'll just be a chat between friends? No apocalypse talk?

ARCHIVIST

Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.

GERARD

Can't believe you still say that, Evelyn.

Alright, talk to you later.

ARCHIVIST.

Later, Gerry.

I dismiss you.

[STATIC]

[BOOK CLOSES]

[A RUSTLING SOUND, LIKE A SHEET OF PAPER BEING TUCKED INTO A BAG]

[THE ARCHIVIST KNOCKS ON THE DOOR]

I'm done.

[FOOTSTEPS AND DOOR OPENS]

TREVOR

How'd it go?

ARCHIVIST

[NOT FINE] Fine.

TREVOR

I'll get the book back in its box, then?

ARCHIVIST

Yeah.

[FOOTSTEPS DEPARTING WITH BOOK]

JULIA

So. Did he tell you what you needed to know?

ARCHIVIST

As much as they could.

JULIA

They?

Ohhh.

So, you knew them before, huh? How tear-filled was the reunion?

ARCHIVIST

Don't be a dick. We were colleagues who got along.

JULIA

[TEASING] 'Got along'?

ARCHIVIST

[UNAMUSED] I'm aroace.

JULIA

Oh. Uh, sorry.

Want a drink to make up for it?

ARCHIVIST

Please.

[FOOTSTEPS]

JULIA

How'd an American get to be the Archivist of an Institute in London, anyway?

ARCHIVIST

Moved from DC to London in my twenties.

[LIQUID SLOSHING]

JULIA

Which one's better in your opinion, the US or Britain?

ARCHIVIST

The flight in between.

JULIA

[LAUGHS]

Well, if you're heading back up there, Trevor and I won't be able to join you to help with the Unknowing.

ARCHIVIST

I figured as much. You've already done plenty to help, though.

JULIA

And you brought us Max Mustermann's head. I think we’re going to have a lot of fun with that. Plus, if you do save the world…

ARCHIVIST

No 'if'.

[JULIA LAUGHS]

ARCHIVIST

Really though, thank you, Julia. I've actually made some progress thanks to you and Trevor.

JULIA

Well, it’s just killing monsters really, isn’t it?

[THE ARCHIVIST IS SILENT]

[LIQUID SLOSHES]

JULIA

You wanna find an actual pub, instead of mooching off my flask?

ARCHIVIST

Definitely.

Click.

Click.

ARCHIVIST

I don't remember having a tape recorder with me when I talked to Gerry. Are those things just following me around now?

At least they're not trying to kill me.

Yet.

Recording ends.

Click.🕸

#evelyn the archivist #tma #tma ask blog #the magnus archives #i think this is the most self infulgent thing iver ever written so cheers to that

[kaftan]

me relistening to t/ma is possibly the biggest last-minute plot twist of 2022 but i’m doing it and anyway here are my notes

- the standalone statements are the absolute best for a) creating unconventional horror protagonists from all walks of life and b) painting these beautiful, striking images out of the horror. a woman sitting alone in a cave, begging whatever is inside it to take her sister instead of her. a trash bag bulging with thousands of unique, pristine teeth. a strange man with eyes tattooed on each of his joints. etc. it fucks!

- related to above: gerry keay grabbed me so much more this time around. he’s goth and moody and doesn’t have to go to any lengths to appreciate the macabre because it meets him wherever he goes and also tries to kill him. he thought escaping his fucked up mom would fix his mommy issues but then he met a new EQUALLY FUCKED UP mother figure and it became Mommy Issues 2: The Issueing. poor poor gerry

- it remains astounding that everyone just agreed to leave jon and elias in a room alone together after elias was talking to him like that in episode 92. UTTERLY astounding.

- heyyy jude perry [mouthing] call me

- already dreading the podcast’s turn toward mind-numbingly boring moral hand wringing about how Did You Know Killing And Eating People Is Bad :-// i’m not listening to the ELDRITCH MONSTERS HORROR SHOW for this shit! knock it off!

- on that note, i was a jon apologist when i first got on this train 2 years ago, and i remain one. he literally doesn’t have anything to apologize for. can’t help being An archivist

- i will never live down casually comparing this podcast to the iliad in an imessage convo but i think it’s literally like. what if you had the favor of a god and it ruined your fucking life. delicioso

[lyrker]

???? JULIA MONTAUK??????? TREVOR HERBERT MR VAMPIRE KILLER WHO SHOULD BE DEAD AS FUCK??????? HELLO???????? Pops the fucking trunk there’s an old dude in there and you get Immediately Shot oh my god. I didn’t think i’d see THESE PEOPLE why are they here? odd duo. hmm. Also Julia said she’s..hunting? ouu last time I heard about hunting it wasn’t good, whether it be normal hunting or vampire hunting neither of those have gone well 💀 also she just Kidnapped Jon. He’s the new avatar in town and everyone’s like Damn gotta catch this twink he’s the new Pupil of the Beholding (wink). Give this man a break.

ALSO HE JUST? FEEDS ON STATEMENTS OR SOMETHING? I mean that statement was definitely The Desolation yeah but also he was feeling like shit and Elias is like ohp gotta Feed The Kiddo ^___^ AND MAILS HIM A STATEMENT and then he feels better. What the fuck. The Archivist is hungry for knowledge.

That’s a bit terrifying actually. He has to read them for sustenance and you have to spill your life’s story, which can be used against you, but if the Archivist doesn’t absorb the knowledge they will most likely Die. Thats kinda sad ):

Also Gerry ermmmm is Dead. Don’t remember that one but Man poor guy. and gertrude just? broke Into the morgue and left a weird fuckin book?? I mean pop off okay magic book but uhhh Okay. Weird. book. Leitner book? probably not, she and Leitner were destroying them but mmm..still. There were A LOT of leitner books, not just the ones held by Avatars, so there’s. a lot. Also they keep calling Gerry Gertrude’s Son 💀 Yeah ig, they are traveling together for whatever reason, easy assumption. Gerry did have a bunch of eyes tattooed on i believe, maybe he worked for the institute? N that’s how Mary Keay and Gertrude know eachother? Maybe.

ALSO EVERYONE SAYS GERARD KEAY WEIRD Jon says Jared Key and Julia says Gerard Kay ELIAS IS THE ONLY ONE WHO SAYS IT RIGHT Gerard Key. Sheesh.

#tma #the magnus archives #live blogging #liveblogging #which one do i. usually use. #hm #S3 Ep 107

[niehuaisangsfan]

No thoughts head empty, only nie bros

#nie huaisang #nie mingjue #nhs #nmj #nie brothers #nie bros #the untamed #mdzs #mo dao su zhi #skys art #u know i like a character when i do random sketch pages #the last one i did was gerry keay i think?? #which was ages ago #anyways i love them so much

[fuckthisshitimin]

Borrowed Time, Chapter 6: This is a romantic comedy

Chapter 1: Are you afraid of death, Jon?

Chapter 2: Take my Picture (I want to last longer)

Chapter 3: I don't know.

Chapter 4: About the life of Gertrude Robinson

Chapter 5: Do not go gentle (into that good night)

read on ao3

September 30th, last autumn of Gerard Keay

2:00PM

Sasha is with her. She doesn’t have to be, her work is done, and she could be outside getting a coffee or back to her hotel to rest but she said she would stay with Gertrude’s body, and Rosie is there too, it is strange to see her after all those years, and Gerry, so—

Jon fiddles with his phone, playing back the conversation in his head.

“What do you want? — I don’t know.”

If this isn’t the story of his life. He groans, taking the last puff of his cigarette before trashing it. No, it isn’t. He wants… he knows what he wants. Too much, probably. And he’s glad Martin will be here. He is relieved he didn’t have to make that decision, too. Pocketing his phone, he heads back into the funeral house, mumbling about the steps as he reaches the lower level. Oliver had given him the key of the elevator, the one they use to transport the caskets. But he didn’t… ah, he didn’t feel like taking the elevator.

Sasha is putting her coat on when he opens the door, and Gerry fiddles with a pencil mindlessly.

“Did Rosie go?”

“She’s with Oliver, talking about the service. Oh, she said you’ll read a poem.”

“I— what? I don’t like poetry.”

She grabs her suitcase, he hadn’t seen it before. So she came here straight from the train. “Yes, but you did drama, and you are terrible at speeches so she doesn’t want you to talk.”

“I—”

“You did drama?”

Gerry’s eyes drifted away from their sketchbook, and Jon is pinned in place by the attention. “This. Is not the point.”

“Oh, yes, he did. Sang, even. You can sing a song if you like it better, I don’t think Rosie would mind.”

“I can’t— I wasn’t close to her, and, I, she, Gertrude never liked me.”

Sasha checks her scarf, her phone, looks around the room one last night before sighing. “Now this is not the point, Jon, I am writing something, Rosie is planning everything, Elias will manage the ceremony—”

“I could do it.”

She stops with one hand in her pocket, the other on her suitcase. “Gerry, you don’t have to.”

“How come they get to chose and I don’t?”

Sasha glares at him and he shivers, before she turns on her heels. “I don’t care, okay? Just, someone will say a poem, and it won’t be me.”

Jon says “Bye,” but she’s already out the door, and he turns to Gerry, defeated. Their features are tense. Her mouth has a strange shape. “I don’t even know any poem,” he says, as a weak defense, and it has the merit of undoing some of the tension between Gerry’s brows.

“I think I know the perfect one.”

“You can go, too. I don’t need company.”

His tone is brisk, and he winces when the words are out. He didn’t mean it like that, he just… It’s his superstition, his problem, no one should have to stay in a sunless room with a dead body for his sake. But Gerry doesn’t seem to take offense, no, they don’t snap at him like they could.

He just puts his sketchbook down to go towards the body. He looks at it for a long time, utterly still, before he can say, “Well I do.”

And there is something in their eyes Jon hadn’t seen on them before. It doesn’t feel allowed, to come close, when Gerry recites, and it sounds like singing.

“Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,

Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,

Silence the pianos and with muffled drum

Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.”

A halt here, and Jon thinks he has heard this poem before. A soft hum, before Gerry starts again.

“Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead,

Scribbling on the sky the message “She is Dead”.

Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,

Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

She was my North, my South, my East and West,

My working week and my Sunday rest,

My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;

I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.”

There is a watery quality to Gerry’s voice, like the verge of tears, yet it is steady as only the ocean can be. It’s a love poem, and Jon stands awaiting, not daring a breath louder than the other.

“The stars are not wanted now, put out every one,

Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good.”

It sounds like a conclusion. Is it? Does he have to say something? Because Gerry is crying, he is sure of it, but they don’t make a move, and he knows— he wouldn’t want someone he barely knows touching him if he was crying. But he— he thinks Gerry would be fine. Yes, he would, he would appreciate Gerry’s touch. If Gerry was amenable. So maybe— he can’t come to a decision before they speak again.

“Gertrude didn’t like poetry much, either. This isn’t the one I will say, by the way.”

They turn towards him, just enough to shoot a glance, and Jon gets closer, if maybe this is an invitation, at least Gerry can see he is approaching, and if they don’t stop him, it might not be unwanted? They said they needed company. Jon is terrible company. But he is still company. He isn’t a terrible listener, he thinks.

“It’s the one she said for Agnes’s funeral. I think it might be the only one she knew. She talked a bit, too. Honestly, it was hilarious. She was… can you imagine her grieving?”

Jon frowns, looking down at the dead woman’s face. “Not really, no.”

“I don’t think she could, either. She was restless throughout the ceremony. Utterly displeased. She looked inconvenienced more than she looked hurt. When she went up to talk, in front of Montague’s family, she was furious. I half expected her to explode, to tell them just how much they hurt Agnes. I’m impressed she didn’t.”

“She just glared, took the papers she had prepared, but barely looked at them. She said…”

December 21st, first winter without Agnes

“This is a comedy. But you are lucky, because it is a romantic comedy and Agnes loved those. Not that you would know. You wouldn’t know, either, that her favourite romcom was Four Weddings and A Funeral. We went to see it in the theatres. She cried a lot, and for a long time. It is a romantic comedy, that teaches people like us love forever in silence, and then, they die. Well, the very next day, I met you for the first time, and I do not think any reminder of those events is needed.”

The audience is silent. Gerard is quiet, too, in the back row, and Gertrude cannot understand why they decided to come. Sasha is there, too— but Sasha has something with funerals, so it isn’t this surprising.

She relishes the hostility from the room. It’s easier when she has something to stand up for, something to stand up against. If they weren’t here, teeth out and threatening, she would fall apart. Now, now, this damned poem. She knows it. Agnes made her watch this movie far too much.

When she concludes it, there is not a tear shed, not from her, not from anyone else, and she smiles. She has teeth, too.

“Now I do not care for funerals nor do I care for weddings. But Agnes did. This is why I am here, today, and why I was with her on the thirteenth of march, 2014, twenty years after this awful romcom debacle, when she asked if I would be with her until death did us part. We held this promise and today, as her wife and executor, I am to make sure Agnes Robinson will be inhumated and not cremated, as was her will. Thank you for your attention, I think the hearse will be coming shortly.”

Gerry chuckles, eyes wide, and Jon joins, yes, it does sound like Gertrude Robinson, and when he thinks about it, he wishes he had known her more. Maybe she didn’t like him, but he did like her. Despite her chaotic organization. She was fierce, and proud, and certain of what she knew, and all the things he couldn’t be. She was a brave woman.

“Jon?”

In many ways, Gerry takes from her. The decision taken before Jon’s eyes, fortified in an instant.

“Yes—Yes?”

In many other ways, Gerry is the furthest thing from her. The resolute gentleness of his voice, and, well, he doesn’t dislike Jon.

They examine his eyes like she did— yet, here still, it’s the opposite. Gertrude’s gaze felt like a dive deep inside him, now, now he’s the one sinking, and Gerry is the ocean, and he feels like taking their hand is okay so he does, and Gerry doesn’t expect it so they jump a bit, and they get closer, and he doesn’t expect it so he jumps a bit and Gerry talks.

“I don’t have the time for this, really.”

Jon wants to ask. Wants to, but Gerry looks at his lips, it’s deliberate, and his face is burning up. And he can’t help looking at Gerry’s lips, too, and he knows they see it. They’re conscious of this, when they breath in.

“Crushes, and pining. It’s not a luxury I have.”

Like a brick at the bottom of Jon’s stomach, sinking slowly. He feels warm, and light-headed, and he thinks he needs time, to find words, to make a decision, because he doesn’t know. And he needs to know. He can’t be rejected before he has even called this a feeling. Not in this strange, heavy and burning way. Not when he just found out that Gerry’s hands are dry and warm and stronger than they look. Thoughts are too fast in his head, he’s stuck and Gerry doesn’t look away, like they can stand it. “Whether this can work or not isn’t important to me,” another thousand thoughts, their voice is barely louder than his mind, “so if you want to kiss me, I’d appreciate you do it now.”

Jon’s brain shuts completely for half a second, half a second of evidence, before the thoughts rush in again, and he doesn’t know if it’s a good idea, or how this will play out, or if this has a chance to last, if he is just starstruck or if after kissing Gerry he will want to do it again, if he will like it, if Gerry will, and— and Gerry asked a simple question, Jon’s breath is too desperate before his hand finds Gerry’s cheek and he brings them closer, closes his eyes to kiss them for the first time, blind and at least certain that in this exact instant, there is nothing he’d rather be doing.

Maybe in two seconds it will be over.

Gerry’s fingers tighten between his. One, two seconds, it isn’t over. The hand on his side is awkward but warm, and it holds him firmly, searching for the right amount of pressure, the right position. When Jon arches his back to get closer, when his hand slips to Gerry’s hair, it adjusts, finds the small of his back, and it’s been a long time since Jon had a first kiss, it has been— and a cold shock runs though Jon’s body at once, and he stills utterly and Gerry’s contact disappears.

Jon doesn’t know what he can say, to fix this, fix the shadow that passes over their eyes when they spot the panic in his, the humorless smile on the lips he just kissed, and where does he start?

“Gerry—”

“’s okay. Thank you, still.”

“No, wait. Let me—”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

But it’s venom. It’s venom spilling out of Gerry’s words, still. They can’t help that it stings.

“I still want to explain. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

What did he promise, just a few hours ago, about not doing things he knew… well, he hadn’t known he would be sorry. He would have if he had just thought, but— he was asked.

“I, ah, I have a partner.”

Gerry moves away from him, a bit more distance, it’s cold and it’s wrong and when Jon tries to focus his eyes on something else the first thing he finds is Gertrude’s closed face, and it doesn’t help. “I didn’t, didn’t remember you were… not aware of that fact.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” He has no idea what that might mean, and Gerry’s face is closed, too, now. “Look, I don’t know where you stand on, ah, exclusivity, and, I am… not sure myself of where I stand on that… spectrum, but what I know is that I value transparency and I shouldn’t kiss someone whilst withholding information.”

“Oh.”

“Yes. I don’t—” He looks up to Gerry, and it’s easy to remember the tug in his chest when they kissed, the pull, the warmth of her lips, “I am sorry, but even as I am very conscious I wronged you I do not feel very sorry.”

A gulp and a strangled laugh. Jon’s eyelids shut when Gerry’s hand shadows over them, settling on his temple. Gerry is close again. It’s burning, again. He doesn’t see, but he feels that their face is closer. “So this would be okay, now that I know?”

“Yes.”

It feels wrong, that it could be so simple, like a cheat, a shortcut. The impression is stomped dead by Gerry’s lips, by eager hands in his hair and Gerry’s shirt beneath his fingers. They taste of cigarettes and iron and something new, something desperate, something Jon wants to learn. Something unknown and so right Jon could cry.

#borrowed time #jongerry #jongerry fic #jongerrymartin #jgm fic #mikhail writes #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus pod #gertrudeagnes #gertrude robinson #agnes montague #gerry keay #gerard keay #jon sims #jonathan sims #the archivist

[who-needs-words]

It’s “I went searching for a small tma detail and now have a weird theory” time. This one is about our dear friend; Allan Schrieber. That’s right the newly revealed maybe-boyfriend-definitely-best-friend of our dear, dear OG Elias Bouchard.

I was typing his name, and went “oh that’s odd, this a very German name” so I went to look it up. According to ancestry.com it means “occupational name for a clerk, from an agent derivative of Middle High German schriben ‘to write’ (via Old High German from Latin scribere). Jewish (Ashkenazic): from German Schreiber, Yiddish shrayber ‘writer’, adopted as a translation of Hebrew Soffer ‘scribe’.”

Yeah you read that wrote, the college student killed by one of Albrecht Von Closen’s empty books and haunted by an eye-less creature and has a German last name meaning “scribe/writer. (See this post and this one and this one about the book not being a Leitner)

Coincidence? I think not. 

So here’s my theory: Allan Schrieber is a Von Closen descended. Just like Mary and Gerry.

Do I have any proof? Only his last name and what killed him. Which are both pretty compelling and I think it’s enough for a fun theory.

Maybe not a direct descended like the Keays, but some kind of relation? Perhaps Albrecht’s nephew Wilhelm or one of the of the branches that stayed in Germany.

“I have located a genealogy for Wilhelm von Closen, though. He married and had children, and the family remained located in and around Schramberg for almost another century, before one branch emigrated to England in 1908...”

The other bit is we have no idea how Allan got the book. It’s not from the college library, or any other library. While it’s a possibility he got it from a book store- what book shop owner puts empty books on they’re shelf? Rather odd idea. And if anyone else who read the book had the same reaction- how did it end up in Allan’s possession?

Family heirloom. 

A mysterious family heirloom. Grandma dies and Allan going through her stuff? That’s a solid and reasonable origin of a weird, empty book.

That’s a decent amount of evidence.

This is all to say that Jonah Magnus hired the traumatized best friend (possibly boyfriend) of a descend of Albrecht Von Closen.

#tma #the Magnus archives #mag 193 #tma 193 #tma spoilers #tma season 5 #mag 193 spoilers #Allan Schrieber #og elias bouchard #og elias #original elias bouchard #albrecht von closen #tma theories #mentions of Gerry and Mary #The Von Closen lineage