Chapter 1: Martin's Poetry Corner
Chapter Text
Martin: And for my second thing, we’re going back to the poetry corner!
Jon: Again? Didn’t you have a poetry corner last week?
Martin: It’s been well over two months since the last poetry corner, my dear. And just for that comment I’m going to up the amount of the poetry corner. From now on this podcast is me reading poetry interjected with some guy talking nonsense.
Jon: You say that like the majority of our audience wouldn’t prefer that. Also, some guy? I’m wounded! Earlier you were calling me ‘beloved husband’ and ‘cherished one’ and now I’m ‘some guy’? What did I do to deserve that level of downgrade?
Martin: You decried the poetry corner!
Jon: I decried nothing! It was a purely non-judgmental comment on the frequency of it. If you want to do poem every week, I have nothing against that.
Martin: Hmm. I might test you on that. I know the whole point of this thing is to share things we think are lovely, and I do find all the poems I read lovely, but I would be lying if I said I didn’t have an ulterior motive.
Jon: Oh? And what might your nefarious hidden agenda be?
Martin: I’m certain you’re the only one that would find it nefarious, but I can, must, shall, and will find a poem that affects you. Now, I’m sure the listeners at home would decry that goal. After all Mary Oliver, Maya Angelou, Wendy Cope, and Langston Hughes all did nothing. He didn’t even blink at “The Two-Headed Calf”, surely there can’t possibly-
Jon, laughing, which severely limits how much he’s able to sell his faux offense: I’ve been affected by poetry before!
Martin: Name one poem you had an actual strong reaction to.
Jon, smugly: It’s almost certainly not one you know. It’s called “Streets” and it’s by this really obscure author. God, what was his name? K was his middle initial I believe?
Martin, laughing: Piss off!
Jon: Well it’s true! I felt something at all of your poetry.
Martin: Liar! I very distinctly remember you calling it ‘almost affecting’! And you declared I was enamored with Keats, which doesn’t even make sense, we have wildly different composition styles.
Jon: You’re working from incomplete information. That tape was from my first read through. It was the reread where they got me.
Martin: Reread? I thought you hated rereading things?
Jon: Typically, yes. But. Ah. It was during the year you were gone.
Martin: Oh. Oh, love.
Jon: It’s been half a decade since then, Martin, I can assure you I’m fine. Though, I suppose reflecting on it, the affecting quality was more to do with who had written the poetry itself. Even now, you could write a grocery list for fun and I’d be hopelessly endeared by it.
Martin: Shut up.
Jon: I shall not! It’s been a hell of a road to get here, I think it’s more than acceptable to flaunt how much I like my husband, especially when he’s doing something he enjoys. In fact, I think it’d be more than appropriate if I did one of your poems for one of my wonderful things next week.
Martin: Absolutely not! Jon, there is a certain level of ‘embarrassing old men in love’ we’re allowed to be in the public sphere, and that would exceed it by, fuck, tenfold? Our quota would be wiped out for the year. For the next five years. No. Besides, my poems aren’t meant for anyone’s eyes and ears but my own, and occasionally you when you’re being nosy.
Jon, with audible shit eating grin: So you’re saying you wouldn’t like to hear your poetry in my voice?
Martin, having a gay panic despite being married to this man for years: I..uh..
Jon: Yes?
Martin: I would..I would like that very much. Privately. Er, please.
Jon: Well, since you asked so nicely. I suppose the poetry corner shall remain yours, for now.
Martin: Thank you for your grand generosity and understanding. Speaking of, should I get to the actual poem? I think I might have a winner with this one.
Jon: Please do.
Martin: So this week I’m bringing a poem written by an, as far as I can tell, unnamed ninth century Irish Monk-
Jon: -ninth century? Decided to abandon the contemporary route then?
Martin: Somewhat? The poem was written in the ninth century, but no one wants to hear me butcher the original, so I’m going to read the English translation by Seamus Heaney, which was done in 2006, so sort of contemporary? Depending how you look at it? Anyway, this is Pangur Bán:
Pangur Bán and I at work,
Adepts, equals, cat and clerk:
His whole instinct is to hunt,
Mine to free the meaning pent.
More than loud acclaim, I love
Books, silence, thought, my alcove.
Happy for me, Pangur Bán
Child-plays round some mouse’s den.
Truth to tell, just being here,
Housed alone, housed together,
Adds up to its own reward:
Concentration, stealthy art.
Next thing an unwary mouse
Bares his flank: Pangur pounces.
Next thing lines that held and held
Meaning back begin to yield.
All the while, his round bright eye
Fixes on the wall, while I
Focus my less piercing gaze
On the challenge of the page.
With his unsheathed, perfect nails
Pangur springs, exults and kills.
When the longed-for, difficult
Answers come, I too exult.
So it goes. To each his own.
No vying. No vexation.
Taking pleasure, taking pains,
Kindred spirits, veterans.
Day and night, soft purr, soft pad,
Pangur Bán has learned his trade.
Day and night, my own hard work
Solves the cruxes, makes a mark.
Isn’t that just delightful? Jon what did you-holy shit!
Jon, voice tight: What?
Martin: You teared up! You’re affected! Fuckin’ gottem!! I should’ve known. I should’ve fucking known that the way to Jonathan Sims’ soul was through a poem about a man feeling kinship with his cat. Incredible.
Jon, slightly sniffling: It’s a very nice poem! You read it because it’s a very nice poem!
Martin: Yes it is! That doesn’t discount the fact that I have read poems about love and hardships and finding joy in being alive and it’s the one about the cat that gets to you. Of course. I love you.
Jon: I love you too. Even if you are a bit too victorious over this. I think that will wrap it up for this week?
Martin: Think so! And as we say at the end of every episode, uh, the way to a man’s heart is not through his stomach, but through cat poems from a thousand years ago.
Chapter Text
Martin: Hello again, and welcome back to, uh-
Jon: -the shitshow?
Martin: No! At worst this podcast is like, the audio equivalent a messy living room. If there’s no worms or clowns or, or evil bosses that are actively trying to kill you, it’s not a shitshow.
Jon: You are aware that comments like that are the reason that we have conspiracy theorists, right?
Martin: Hey, I’ve read a fair amount of those conspiracy theories, and a couple of them have been weirdly bang on.
Jon: Martin, love, no, please do not feed into their suspicions. Once again, as general disclaimer, this show has no larger narrative. It really is just us having a nice time.
Martin: Seriously, though, what about our discussions of beekeeping or the feeling of discovering a new favorite album has got people believing we’re secretly vampires? Or from a parallel universe slightly to the left of this one? Could you imagine?
Jon, dry enough to chap lips: Hardly.
Jon: Though I will say, any of the theories that involve one or both of us being supernatural creatures are my personal favorites. I’m fascinated by what people are picking up on there, considering we are two perfectly normal human people.
Martin: Well, you are preternaturally handsome.
Jon: Oh god, shut up! That was terrible! First of all, even if that were true-
Martin:-it is. To everyone listening, my husband is very very good looking. I’d say he’s a trophy husband, but it turns out he’s also smart and loving and funny and strong and kind-
Jon, somehow blushing out loud: Will you stop it! As I was saying, first off, this is audio only, they have no idea how I look-
Martin: -you sound handsome-
Jon:-secondly, my husband outshines the sun, so if anyone should be accused of being preternaturally handsome, it’s certainly him-
Martin crosstalking, pleased:- christ, being on the receiving end of that is awful-
Jon: and finally, weren’t you last week saying something about an embarrassing old men in love quota? It’s wildly unfair of you to deplete our entire allowed supply in one comment at the top of the episode.
Martin: We actually got some feedback on that. Some of it was like, “no quota, we love love”, which is very nice, but trust me, it would result in an unlistenable show, and I’m the one that has to edit it. Most of it was closer to “old men? Aren’t you both in your mid-thirties lol?”. We are, but you know how people have the sentiment of “age is an attitude” when trying to encourage 60 year olds to go ziplining or whatever? Turns out, they’re right, and we’re in our 70s yelling at kids to get off our lawn.
Jon: Speak for yourself. My all white hair and deeply limited ability to care about popular culture makes me an absolute paragon of youth.
Martin, laughing: Of course. Especially by calling it “popular culture”.
Jon: Check the tik tok, it’s the preferred vernacular of The Youths, of which I am one.
Martin, still laughing: Yes, dear. Anyway, now that we’ve said nothing of import for a good three minutes, we should get on with the actual content, huh? Got any small wonders?
Jon: Yes?
Martin: Want to elaborate on that a little?
Jon: I do. There’s. Um. I swear there was something.
Martin: Want me to go first and come back to you?
Jon: Please.
Martin: My small wonder is the third area of feedback we got about last week. Specifically, it’s a five star review from Caitlyn S. that simply says, “I Can Not Stand Them” followed by a heart emoji.
Jon: Thank you Caitlyn. We also cannot stand each other, heart emoji.
Martin: Now it’s your turn to speak for yourself, I can stand you plenty. Actually, I would say I more than stand you, I rather like you a lot, heart emoji.
Jon, fond: Someone’s in a mood today, huh?
Martin: What can I say, it’s the first day of sun we’ve had in two? Two and half? Weeks. Forgive me if I feel like everything is a bit lighter.
Jon: No forgiveness necessary. Actually, that’s my small wonder, the first day of sunshine after weeks of grey, and, more specifically, how it makes my husband obnoxiously effusive with affection.
Martin, not genuinely wounded: Obnoxious?!
Jon: Only for others to witness, darling. If we weren’t recording right now, I would be personally responding to it with some very enthusiastic kissing.
Martin:…
Martin: So that will take us to our ad break.
Jon, laughing: We don’t have ads. Even if we did, this isn’t live.
Martin: What I’m hearing is that you think we should sacrifice artistic integrity-
(Jon snorts)
-and the genuine flow of conversation, before, might I add, we’ve even done our first things, in order to participate in some, ah, distinctly non-sexual but still amorous activity?
Jon: I didn’t say that, but I’m not opposed to it either.
Martin. In that case, listeners, if you hear any sort of audio differences as I talk about my first thing, no you didn’t, why would you, because we’re definitely not going to take a 5 to 15 minute break right now.
[THERE IS A DISTINCT OUT OF BREATH QUALITY TO THEIR SPEECH AS THEY BEGIN DISCUSSING MARTIN’S FIRST THING]
Notes:
they r...Insufferable...
Chapter 3: An Open Letter to Jon Sims-Blackwood
Summary:
Only Martin on this week
Chapter Text
Martin:
Hey everyone, I wanted to started this off by saying this isn’t going to be a typical episode. Jon’s been..under the weather for the past couple of days, so this is just going to be me monologing, inevitably for a much shorter time than we usually go. Most of the time, we try to discuss topics and experiences that, if not universal, could theoretically be enjoyed by anyone, such as fresh honey or the first time a friend comes to visit your home.
This episode will not be that. This episode is highly specific to me, and will only contain one wonderful thing, though in reality it is a thousand wonderful things wrapped into one. In order to be completely transparent, this episode isn’t even really for the general public, and while the whole show has on some level been for the two of us, this episode in particular exemplifies that. If that doesn’t sound like something you’d enjoy, feel free to skip this, and we’ll most likely be back to our regular format and hijinks next week.
If you’re still listening, and you find this grating or obnoxious or self indulgent in any way, well, I can only say that I warned you.
My first, and only, wonderful thing this week is Jonathan Blackwood-Sims; my husband, my best friend, and my love of this, and I suspect many other, lives.
My dearest Jon,
I think you are wonderful.
I hope that you think I am wonderful even half as much as I think you are wonderful, but as I think you are infinitely wonderful, and half of infinity is still infinity, I know that this is quite a lot to ask.
I think you are wonderful when you are talking to our cats, and singing during chores, and smiling against my shoulder. I think you are wonderful when a sunbeam hits your face and you sway into it and it’s the most at peace I’ve ever seen you, and I am so grateful every time to have gotten this. I think you are wonderful when you are not a morning person, but you rise at the same time I do, for at least a moment, to kiss my hand and wish me a good morning. I think you are wonderful when I am not a night person, but I stay up later than I should to wish you a good night. I think you are wonderful when you’re telling me about your Interest of the Day, when you are rambling to me about nothing at all, and when you don’t say a word but still speak volumes. I think you are wonderful when you exist near me. I think you are wonderful when you exist away from me as well, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t prefer having you close by, even in those times where one of us needs space. I think you’re wonderful when you exist anywhere at all.
I think you are wonderful when you are intelligent. I think you are wonderful when you are compassionate. I think you are wonderful when you are both at once, more than that, I think you’re dazzling. I think you are wonderful when you care so, so much, when others would’ve stopped.
I think you are wonderful when you are warm. I think you are wonderful when you are warm and loving and affectionate and playful and teasing and kind. I think you are wonderful when you are good, and you are so very good.
But make no mistake, my love. I do not only find you wonderful during times of joy. I do not only find you wonderful when you are good. I do not only find you wonderful when wonder comes easily, when scars seem faded and the triumphs seem common.
I think you are wonderful when nothing else is.
I think you are wonderful when, in many ways, you are not. I think you are wonderful when you’re bitter, you’re guilty, when you’re arrogant or self centered or dismissive or self sacrificing.
I think you are wonderful when, in many ways, I am not. I think you are wonderful when I’m cold, I’m distant, when I’m needy or jealous or spiteful or, admittedly, also self sacrificing.
I think you are wonderful when we’ve betrayed each other, when we’ve fought, when we’ve gone to sleep angry and we’ve woken up afraid. I think you are wonderful when I can’t wash off long removed bloodstains on my hands, and when you can’t tear away long removed violence from your throat.
I think you are wonderful when you are hurting and haunted. I think you are wonderful when I’m much the same. I think you are wonderful when I wish that neither of us had to be hurting and haunted again.
I know that there are wounds that won’t ever fully close, aches that will flare up on days such as these. But I also know that there are joys that can never be removed, certain laughs that will be irrepressible on days to come. Both will stay with us the rest of our lives.
I know we have regrets, but I can never regret staying the rest of my life with someone as wonderful as you.
Chapter 4: Under the Weather
Summary:
Not an episode! Context for the previous chapter
Notes:
Jon signs in this one, and sign languages have their own grammar and structure, but I display his signs translated into English and denote them with <> instead of “”.
Chapter Text
When, two days ago, Jon woke up gasping at 3 am, Martin didn’t think anything of it. Their nightmares were much like their chronic headaches: sometimes occurring daily, sometimes going weeks in without showing up. They were uncomfortable, surely, and sometimes had lingering effects, but there was a routine to them that took away much of their sting.
When he then throws off the covers, grabs the pack of cigarettes that only gets touched maybe three times a year, and makes a beeline for their balcony, Martin realizes that something worse is going on. Dread starting to settle in his stomach, he attempts to stave it off through action. He grabs the comforter and puts on a pair of slippers, going to accompany Jon. The early morning spring air is bracing enough to someone like himself, who, barring a certain deeply unpleasant year, had always run hot, it must be awful for the heat sink that is Jon. Sure enough, he finds Jon shifting on his feet, trying not to shiver too much as he’s handling the lighter.
Getting closer, while still allowing Jon breathing room, he offers over the blanket with a gentle smile and gentler words “Wanna talk about it?”
Jon doesn’t take the blanket. Jon doesn’t even look at him. “Talking to you has often been the problem, so no, thank you.”
Oof. Instinct tells him to react with a matching tone, to jab right back. That instinct is one that he’s long learned to ignore. Instead, he wraps the blanket around his own shoulders and replies with a certain level of blitheness, “Huh. Probably shouldn’t have married me then.”
Jon’s shoulders slump, and the harsh lines of his features soften. He still, however, won’t look at Martin. “Sorry, that was...a poor way of phrasing things. Sometimes I just think..”
There’s a silence between them for a few seconds as Martin waits for him to expand on the thought. When he doesn’t, Martin prompts, “Yes?”
Jon sighs with all of himself, before taking a drag of his cigarette. “Four years ago. If you hadn’t been there, I think I would’ve gone through with it. I’m glad for the life we got to build afterwards, but. Sometimes it feels as though I’m being rewarded for failure. Or perhaps, more accurately, for compliance.”
Four years ago. Four years ago exactly. The date dawns on Martin, simultaneously the worst day of their lives, and the day of their freedom from the fears. The realization makes him understand why Jon’s treading the ruts of a worn out argument, a old ache. These days, Martin doesn’t have much to say on the matter. He thinks the second Fucking Jonah Magnus opened the door, and that it was Fucking Jonah Magnus who did it, they no longer had any right choices to make. No matter what way they did the math, the outcome was always going to be terrible. However, when he wakes up warm, with their cat curled up at their feet and his husband curled into his side, he can regret the build up all he likes, but he can’t deny his joy at how it, eventually, all shook out. “Reward would imply intent, and I don’t think what we have now was orchestrated by anything other than ourselves. It’s not like the web promised us a summer wedding if we finished opening the rift.”
It’s too early to have the conversation. Jon seems to realize this at the same time that Martin does, because he snuffs out his cigarette on the railing, and says he’s going back to bed.
Four hours later, Jon leaves the apartment. He doesn’t say where he’s going, and Martin doesn’t ask. In the past, it would’ve been enough for his anxiety to spike, for the insidious thoughts of “this is it, he’s finally sick of me, always knew this would happen,” to circulate. He’s mostly able to stave off that way, able to come to the rational conclusion that this day was hard every year, and that they both needed space to process, that they weren’t even fighting, really. Mostly. He still has to keep himself busy to stave off the worst of it. The sardonic part of himself notes that their apartment’s always sparkling when they’re at their lowest, stress cleaning a habit the two of them share.
Jon gets home close to midnight, and doesn’t look at him as he falls asleep. On the couch. Maybe they’re fighting after all. Martin wishes someone had told him.
This morning, Martin wakes up cold for the first time in months. Blearily, he makes his way towards the kitchen, and finds Jon upright and scrolling on his phone. The bags under his eyes suggest he slept about as well as Martin. He looks up, at Martin, when he walks by, which is a marked improvement. Martin stops in his tracks, and he wants to think of something easy to say. He wants to offer tea or breakfast, he wants to give reassurances, he wants to remain steadfast in his conviction that saving their former world and ending up somewhere else was the best move, he want to smoothly open up discussion. Instead, he blurts out the question that’s been keeping him tossing and turning for the past several hours. “Are we okay?”
Jon opens his mouth, closes it, and lets out a frustrated huff through his nose. He raises his hand in a fist and nods with it. <Yes.>
Inanely, he asks, “Are you okay?,” which only gets him a flat stare before Jon signs <I’m getting some damn sleep.> and shoves past Martin to what is supposed to be their shared bed. Martin lets him, for now, but they’re going to clear out some of the tension this afternoon.
He makes the elective decision to record the episode by himself. He supposes he could send out a tweet telling their audience it’s an off week, but he wants to record it, both for himself and for Jon. After he’s done, he does a three knocks in rapid succession on the doorframe of the bedroom, a code they had established, god, back in the Prentiss days to let the other know it was them. Jon stirs under the covers, so he asks, “Can I come in?”
A hand rises up, giving the same nod as earlier. Before he walks in, however, he also asks, “Can I join you on the bed?”
<Yes.>
Martin crawls in next to him, and Jon immediately turns over to face him. Before he says anything, Jon signs <I love you.>
“I love you too. Hey, did..did you hear me recording?”
<No. You did an episode solo?>
“Yeah. Sort of figured you weren’t up for it.”
Jon shrugs and gives a tilt of his head that Martin reads as “Fair.” <What’s it about?>
Martin gives a shit-eating grin, the first smile hes given in the past two days. “It’s a surprise.”
Jon sticks out his tongue at him, which makes some of the weight on his lungs lift. “It’s also not what we need to discuss. What’s been going on, my love?”
<Same old, same old. Crushing guilt, swells of regret, the general feeling that I don’t deserve this life. I’ll get past it again. It’s just hard, this time of year.>
Martin knew all that already, but, “There’s something else though, this time, isn’t there?”
Jon drops his eyes down to his hands, which he keeps resolutely still. With nothing but an earnest plea, Martin asks, “Why did you sleep on the couch? That’s not ‘same old, same old’.”
To his surprise, Jon comes in closer, only leaving enough room between them that he can still sign. <I love you. So much. Enough to terrify me, sometimes, but.>
“But?”
<Sometimes I can’t look at you without seeing the past. I’m sorry.>
Involuntarily, Martin glances down to Jon’s abdomen. Despite his torso being covered, Martin knows the shape of the scar there, because there are times where he can still feel himself creating it. “I know how you feel. And it’s. It sucks, but I think it’s okay. As long as..as it’s not the only thing you see looking at me.”
Jon shakes his head, and gives an only slightly fragmented smile. <Not at all. Mostly I look at you and I see my favorite person in all of existence, literally.>
Martin relaxes into the mattress and runs his fingers through Jon’s hair. Pressing their foreheads together, he replies, “Ditto. Don’t tell The Duchess though, she’s the jealous type.”
That gets a proper laugh out of Jon, and Martin’s sure that they both know tomorrow is going to be better.
Chapter 5: So True Bestie
Summary:
Back to show style format and a blast from the past!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Jon: Hello everyone, and welcome back to our regular format. If my husband being horribly soppy-
Martin:-hey!-
Jon: -turned you off the how, this should be a refreshing return to formula, though I can’t guarantee there won’t be further horrible soppiness-
Martin, performatively under his breath: -most people thought it was charming-
Jon: -as that tends to happen when one is recording with the love of their life. If last week’s episode is the only one that you like, too bad, I’m back in full form, and should be at least through the rest of the season.
Martin: This show doesn’t have seasons? Due to the whole lack of a narrative thing?
Jon: I was referring to spring.
Martin: Oh, right.
[A beat passes.]
Martin, flatly: Oh. Great goof hon.
Jon, smug: Thank you.
Jon, sincere: Also, before we get properly started, I did want to actually thank everyone who sent well wishes.
M artin: Yes! We got positively inundated with lovely messages, it definitely brightened both of our days. I would even say it was wonderful.
[Jon groans.]
Jon: I am..not proud of the energy we’ve created for this episode so far, and we haven’t even hit the small wonders. Speaking of, do you have a small wonder this week?
Martin: Mine’s bad action movies.
Jon: Really? I had no idea you even liked them, let alone consider them wonderful.
Martin: Okay, so, saying I like them is a bit of a misnomer? It’s more that I like what they can do more than the movies themselves?
Jon: Elaborate?
Martin: It probably comes as a surprise to no one that I’ve tried my hand at a fair amount of mindfulness and mediation techniques. I’ve found poetry and journaling have been helpful for actually processing life events and whatnot, but when it comes to giving your brain a hard wipe and reset, nothing is half as quick and effective as a shitty shoot-em-up. Somethings about 2 hours of cartoonish, pg-13 violence held together with the absolute loosest of plots brings me to a state of mental blankness that would make a monk jealous.
Jon: How have I never witnessed you doing this? When are you sneaking off to go see Micheal Tarantino or who ever films?
M artin: That’s definitely not the right name.
Jon: Martin, dear, I don’t care. And you’re dodging the question.
Martin, fond: I’m not dodging anything. Since apparently we’re getting into it, you haven’t caught me cavorting with a movie involving more explosions than character development lately because I haven’t been. Haven’t needed it, in recent years. Turns out when you’re not crushingly lonely and working a literal nightmare of job, there’s less of a drive to try and escape your own thoughts. Shocker, I know. Still, to anyone out there that feels like their brain is on fire, go try watching a fast and furious. Any of ‘em, it doesn’t matter. Or even better, Chronicles of Riddick. I can’t remember a single goddamn detail of that movie, which makes it perfect for what I’m talking about.
Jon: I have the strong feeling that th is is a “mileage may vary” scenario.
Martin: Well, yeah, that’s this whole podcast. Plus, I imagine that movies like this would cause more stress to someone who cares about, say, world-building or rules consistency.
Jon: I wonder who you could possibly be referring to.
Martin: It’s a purely hypothetical person, love, don’t worry about it. Any small wonders?
Jon: Yes! Particularly relevant to the last week, my small wonder is stripping the sheets from your bed when it’s been too long between washes.
Martin: How very specific. M ost people would just say ‘clean sheets’.
Jon: Well, for one, I’m fairly certain that we’ve already covered clean sheets-
Martin: Shit, have we? Thank god other people keep track of this, otherwise this show would be unbearably repetitive.
Jon: Christ, yes. I typically check the website a good three times while prepping, and every about one out of those three times I find I’m trying to do an topic we did 30 episodes again. Anyway, um, it’s just nice, I think. When you’ve been too busy or sick or away for awhile, tossing the sheets in the wash makes a room instantly seem nicer. Of all the chores out there, this one, at least for me, has the highest reward to effort ratio.
Martin: Hard agree. Especially when the y have that slight funk of having been around to long, getting rid of that is such a relief. Speaking of, we need to change our sheets soon.
Jon: We can do it after the episode. Who goes first this week?
Martin: Considering last week was only me talking, I’m gonna say it’s you.
Jon: Alright, then. My first thing this week is Martin K. Blackwood.
Martin: Absolutely not!
Jon: Oh, you can do a whole episode on me, but I can’t do one little segment on my husband, whom I love very dearly?
Martin: Not while I’m sat here, no!
Jon: So you’re saying you don’t want me to tell the internet that your resolve to be kind even in the face of indescribable cruelty is one of the mot breathtaking things I’ve ever witnessed, or how I find it incredibly endearing when you get so emotional that your voice comes out as a squeak, or even that, on a more base level, you’re very physically attractive, and I could lose entire days thinking about your arms alone?
Martin, audibly blushing, voice the aforementioned squeak: Oh my god, Jon!
Jon, laughing: Then it’s probably for the best that my actual first thing is best friends.
Martin, peaking the audio levels: Oh you absolute bastard! Do you enjoy this? Do you get some sort of perverse sense of entertainment from riling me up?
Jon: Oh, don’t you start. As if you’re not as bad as I am. Maybe even worse.
Martin: That’s not…
Jon: Yes?
Martin: Okay. Maybe it’s slightly true. Really, what is romance for if not flustering your partner with compliments?
Jon, teasing: I certainly can’t think of anything.
Martin: Hush, you.
Jon: No, I don’t think I will.
Martin: Fine. I suppose you can tell our delightful audience about the power of friendship or whatever.
Jon: I would’ve assumed more enthusiasm, considering this segment is still, indirectly, about you.
Martin: In what way?
Jon: In the way that, to the shock of all, you’re my best friend.
Martin, pleased: Oh, is that what I am?
Jon, exasperated: Yes, dearest husband, I wouldn’t have married you otherwise. Though, upon reflection, I knew you were my best friend before I knew I held romantic feelings for you.
Martin: When was that?
Jon, letting out a breath that vibrates his lips: God it was...2016? I think it might’ve literally been the day after you told me about your CV.
Martin: That early? Huh. I wonder if that’s what people were picking up when they said they we were close.
Jon: What people?
Martin: I don’t know specifically, that’s just what Daisy told me.
Jon: Daisy? When the hell-?
Martin: It...was when she was interrogating me? And, because sometimes I have to be a parody of myself, pretty much my only take away from that interrogation was “people think me and Jon are close”.
Jon: Well then. It’s not like they were wrong.
Martin, smug: No, no they weren’t.
Martin, sincere: And you’re my best friend, too.
Jon: I was certainly hoping that you’re in this relationship for more than my good looks and incredible fortune, both in the monetary and luck sense.
Martin: You say that as if you aren’t good looking, which we all know is patently untrue.
Jon: You’re biased. You’d say I was good looking if I were nothing more than some primordial ooze with thoughts about its station.
Martin: I’m being completely objective. If you were primordial ooze with thoughts above its station, you’d be the cutest ooze of them all. That’s just scientific fact.
Jon: I’m starting to think we might be insufferable.
Martin: Starting to? Might be?
Jon:…
[Jon clears his throat]
Jon: What I find wonderful about the concept of best friends is, to me, they’re the closest thing real life has to soulmates. I don’t personally believe that there’s some..grand mystic force that drives people to be tied together in the manner that narrative typical soulmates are, and if there was I don’t think it would necessarily be the kind of emotional, heartfelt bond one would hope for, but I do believe that there’s individuals that get to know one another, and because of that knowledge, they chose to stick with one another. It doesn’t have to be a romantic, which is why I say best friend rather than specifically ‘spouse’, but I would argue that the basis of a strong romance like you and I have, is very much rooted in that connection. A true best friendship is an equal partnership, and there’s a sense of..matched sensibilities and understanding that can be utterly incandescent when it happens.
I also think that having one or more best friends makes living life on a day to day basis both better and just flat easier. The dark times aren’t as dark, and the bright times shine even more. I know from my own personal experience there are events that I..that I don’t know how I would’ve made it through without you. Hell, last week my..recovery period would’ve taken much longer if you hadn’t been there.
It’s an amazing thing to have someone to share things with, both triumphs and burdens. Um, also, according to Dictionary.com, the term best friends in English has been around since the 1200s. Something about that delights me, like, yes, we’ve had this casual way of referring to a Favorite Person for roughly 800 years. That makes it a hold-out from early Middle English. I dunno, it’s one of those things that make me feel overall very charmed by humanity.
Martin, audibly smiling: No, yeah, hard agree.
Jon: What’s that look for?
Martin: Nothing. Just. I love you a whole lot, you know that?
Jon, voice soft: I may have heard you say that once or twice. Per hour.
Martin: Only that often? I really need to be more diligent about that.
[There’s a bet of silence, presumably where they’re making doe eyes at each other.]
Jon: What’s your first thing?
Martin: Oh, um, right. Rats!
Jon: The expression or the animal?
Martin: Jon, have you ever once heard me say “rats” as an expression? Obviously I’m referring to the animal.
Jon: Ah. Should’ve known, considering that what, a third?, of all your segments have been on animals.
Martin: Yeah? And? You got a problem with critters? With creatures? With lil guys?
Jon, laughing: No, no, it’s very sweet. I’m just surprised you never became a vet.
Martin: Oh believe me, I wanted to. But then I learned that it was not, in fact, a job composed entirely of getting paid to play with other people’s pets.
Jon: You had that job, though, didn’t you? I thought I remembered you mentioning a month long stint at a doggie day care.
Martin, sighing dreamily: Best job I ever had. Too bad that place was shut down after it was revealed to be a money laundering front.
Jon: Good lord.
Jon: Martin did you...did you know it was a money laundering front at the time?
Martin:
Martin: Would it make you feel better if I said no?
Jon: Martin!
Martin: I figured it out like a week in, but, like, who cares? The pay was decent and the floor was super easy to clean, which is very much a plus for even a front of a doggie day care.
Jon: That’s...rather a lot. How about instead of getting into that any further, you tell me about rodents.
Martin: I would love to. But first, we have a shoutout!
Jon: Ooo, a shoutout. Does it specify who should read?
Martin: Let me check. It...does...not…..
...
Jon: Martin?
[A beat.]
Martin: Right! Sorry, um. This week’s shoutout is from Tim, to Danny. It says, “Danny! My favorite person who shares genetic material with me! I wanted to say thank you for your podcast obsession from 4 months ago, and specifically for telling me about these marrieds. They’ve gotten me through many a dull hour at the publishing house. Also, with this shoutout, I’ve officially gotten ahead on the Superior [Last Name Redacted] Brother scoreboard, so suck it. Love you lots, and looking forward to your visit next month, Tim.”
Jon: Oh.
Jon: Um. That’s very..sweet? I think? Mostly?
Martin: Yeah, I’d say so. Uh. We have to take a quick break because, uh, someone is..at our front door! Be back with you all in, from your side of things, just a moment.
Notes:
ehehehehehehe
Chapter 6: Fallout
Summary:
so one of your dead friends has indirectly contacted you in a different universe, wyd?
Notes:
i orignally planned for this chapter to not exist but turns out i love discussions and working through things
Chapter Text
The second that Martin stops the recording, they move in tandem. They remove their headphones, lean back in their chair, and let out something that’s more of a sigh than a word. “Fuck.”
Jon scrubs a hand over his face, while Martin simply stares at the message containing the shoutout. The following silence hangs in the air with a density that makes breathing feel like more effort than it's worth. When the atmosphere makes the transition from 'cloying' to 'actively suffocating', Martin blinks himself out of his trance and asks, "Did you...did you ever look them up? I mean, not when we we first got Here, obviously, but, after?"
Considering his answer, Jon twists his wedding ring back and forth. As far as nervous ticks go, it's by far Martin's favorite, because of the involvement of the aforementioned wedding ring. He'd, however, prefer that Jon wasn't nervous, and hopes that whatever nerves are present are more due to the inaccurate but nonetheless present feeling that they've been contacted by a dead man rather than because he's reading anything accusatory in Martin's question. Instead of answering, Jon asks, "Did you?" which means yes, but he's trying to gauge the direction of this conversation.
Trying to be reassuring despite the fact that he's currently, to put it lightly, considerably freaked out right now, Martin shakes his head. "No. Not for, um, lack of curiosity. I looked for us, first, and when I couldn't find anything, I just sort of assumed that..that none of them were out there either."
"Hmm. There is a logic to that line of thinking."
Martin lets out a weak laugh, and clasps his hands together to stop the shaking he now notices. "Thanks, love, but I think it was more avoidance than logic. That first year we were here was, uh, tumultuous? I think I would've done something, er, inadvisable if I had found any of the other online."
Sucking his teeth, Jon tells him, "I nearly sent out what would've been very confusing emails myself, but other than a quick perusal of public social media accounts years ago, I haven't interacted with any of them."
"Until now."
"Yes. Until now."
They both glance at the shout out, pixels seeming to burn into the screen, before glancing away. Martin opens and closes his mouth a few times before getting out, "Would you be willing to tell me? About- about what you found?"
"Are you sure?"
"Yeah. It's gonna bother me now, and I'd rather hear it from you than from facebook or, or whatever."
"Basic rundown from about 3 and half years ago? Tim, as you saw, is still at the publishing house. At the time, Danny had taken up pottery, though has likely moved on from that interest since. Sasha is a cyber security expert and had adopted some ferrets recently. Melanie and Georgie still cohost What the Ghost as a youtube show, though it's significantly lighter in tone than Ghost Hunt Uk ever was. Basira, unfortunately, still works for the police, and I couldn't find an Alice or Daisy Tonner on social media that matched ours. Elias Bouchard, presumably not taken over by a certain dead bastard-"
"-rip in piss, you stupid fuck-"
"-may his memory be scorched from the earth and as insignificant as the worm he was, is the head of some prep school. Not a thrilling indictment for the next generation of Britain, but also not something I felt any particular need to get involved in. Did that, um, help things?"
"I..think so? I..it was easier, to act as if none of them were in this reality, but I can't really do that anymore, huh? So, yeah, it's nice..it's nice to know those basics. Raises a few..general existential questions that I don't want to get into right now, maybe, but. Yeah. Okay."
Grabbing one of Martin's hands and kissing the knuckles, Jon replies an infinitely soft, "Okay."
After delivering a deeply besotted smile, Martin adds on, "Still don't know what the hell to do about Tim messaging us."
With a sigh, Jon tells him, "I don't think we do anything. It's just a nice show of support from a fan who happens to resemble someone we miss. Good lord, could you imagine? You send a bit of money to some podcasters you do not know, and they respond by telling you they're so glad you're alive, and also, how's your mental health, and do you have a personal vendetta against clowns, because they're concerned. Utterly ridiculous. Plus..plus no one deserves to be looked at as a ghost, which..is probably the only thing we'd be able to see him as."
Martin blows air through his lips and concedes. "Christ. That sucks. You're right, but it sucks."
A beat passes, then Martin adds, "We're never doing liveshows."
Jon lets out a sharp bark of a laugh that helps re-establish the jovial mindset they try to record with. "Hard agree. Back to the episode?"
"Back to the episode."
Chapter 7: Itty Bitty Episode
Summary:
only small wonders and user submissions this week babey!
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Martin, tired: Hello everybody! Welcome, or welcome back, to a very low energy episode. We have had, as the kids say, A Week Tm.
Jon, equally tired, but fond: Is that as the kids say?
Martin: I don't know, and perhaps worse, I don't really care. I guess I could ask Jeremiah next time he's over, but I'm not sure if that would actually help.
Jon: Shockingly, I don't think two year olds have their finger on the beating pulse of youth culture.
Martin: Hmm, maybe not. Speaking of Jeremiah, he's part of why the format of this episode is gonna be a bit different than our regular. On top of me dealing with a frankly obscene amount of inventory management, and Jon being swamped with grant writing-
Jon: I never want to look at proposal guidelines again-
Martin: we were on babysitting duty for our favourite neighborhood hellion-
Jon: Hey, Jeremiah is a very sweet kid! I know he's a toddler, but we shouldn't be slandering him anyway.
Martin: One, we're not even using his real name, I don't think that counts as slander, and two, exactly, he's a toddler, he's by default a hellion.
Jon, teasing: This coming from the person that actually wants one?
Martin: I..look, if anything, the last few days have shown we should not be permanent parents.
Jon: But?
Martin:...There's no but.
Jon: I don't believe you! Are you lying for my benefit or the audience's? Because someone spent the last five days wearing one of the largest grins I've ever seen, exhausted as it may have been.
Martin: Okay! Fine, I admit, I liked having a kid around. I still think it would be a bad idea to do it full time, but I dunno. I wish we weren't both only children or something. We would make such good uncles.
Jon: Should I should have taken that teaching job after all?
Martin: Perhaps. After all,
Martin, singsong: An English teacher, is really someone!
Jon and Martin, singing together: If only you, had be-come one!
Jon: Honestly, though, I was considerably underqualified. I'm much more suited to my current job, even if it doesn't have quite the same impact on the "shaping of the next generation" or whatnot.
Martin: Wait, you actually care about qualifications now? When did that change?
Jon: This coming from Mister "master's degree in parapsychology"? And it was probably around the time that the world ended from taking on a workload I was ill-suited for.
Jon:...
Jon: Metaphorically speaking, of course.
Martin: Oh, of course. Definitely nothing literally apocalyptic in our pasts, no siree, nothing to see or speculate about or make weirdly involved forums for here. Uh, anyway, long introduction not so short: Both of us have been averaging about 4 hours of sleep, so any sort of actual research was not on the table.
Jon: If any of you are wondering why we didn't just say that we're both very much worn out and thus we'll be taking a week off, it's because we're both deeply, deeply stubborn.
Martin: It's one of our best shared qualities that has never caused any conflict between us, ever.
Jon: In fairness, sheer stubbornness does account for, what, 75% of the reason that either of us are still alive? And it hasn't caused a major conflict between us in a good three years.
Martin: That's true. We've become a deeply boring, relatively conflict free couple. Which fucking rules, by the way. To all the couples out there: I highly recommend being boring. It is so nice. We've gotten to go to the farmer's market so many times.
Jon: You do love the farmer's market. I would say that it's the access to fresh produce, but I think you just like the attention that one yarn seller gives you. Can't believe you would take advantage of a crush to get discounts on wool. How did I marry such an opportunist?
Martin: Ollie does not have a crush on me. They're just friendly to everyone.
Jon: Bullshit. I certainly never get an extra skein or stitch markers or delicate fabric cleaner tossed in my bag. Actually, I think I've been charged more for committing the crime of having married you before they could.
Martin: I'm..70% sure that's not true, but every sentence we speak, we stray further from even pretending to be on topic. So, to everybody listening, this is the itty bitty episode! Basically, we're only doing small wonders and user submissions. If you want details or backstory for things we like, too bad, come back next week. Jon, I believe you're first this week?
Jon: Oh, right. My first small wonder is cat names.
Martin: Delightful, but unsurprising. Though, I would've expected either more or less specificity. Why cat names as opposed to pet's names in general, or, like, military title names?
Jon: Well that's simple enough. I've simply never met a misnamed cat, even if the name itself wasn't to my personal tastes, and I think that speaks to the wonderful universality of cats.
Martin: This, of course, implies that you have met animals that were misnamed.
Jon: Oh, I have. I once met a papillion dog named Meatball.
Martin: Now I know you don't like food names in general for pets, but are you sure that Meatball didn't suit the dogs personality? I've known some "Meatballs" in my lifetime.
Jon, only half-mock offended: Of course it didn't fit, Martin. She was a lady. A nervous, jittery lady, but a lady nonetheless.
Martin, laughing: And what, you've never met a dignified cat with an undignified name, or vice versa? Would you be okay with our cat being named Meatball?
Jon: I would be upset if our cat was named Meatball, because we named her and we're above that sort of thing, but, technically speaking, she could have been Meatball in another lifetime and it wouldn't have been wrong. You see, all cats are a mix of both extremely austere and little baby idiot.
Martin: Oh, is that the scientific terminology?
Jon: It is. Now, while there's probably some amount of, er, normative determinism or confirmation bias or something that results in a cat with a more dignified name seeming to possess more of that austerity, as all cats have both, any name can, potentially, fit. Hence why it's wonderful.
Martin: I..accept your proposal for now, but I think more research needs to be done. Maybe we should visit the shelter this weekend and test your hypothesis.
Jon: Hmm. I think we may need to visit multiple shelters, actually. A large sample size is necessary for any sort of veracity, obviously.
Martin, imitating Jon tone: Obviously.
Jon: Glad you agree. What's your first small wonder?
Martin: Tofu!
Jon: I..didn't realize you liked that much?
Martin: Well, I don't get it very often since I know you can't stand the texture, even though it is not like 'worse scrambled eggs', and you're a horrible food thief-
Jon: Lies and slander. We readily share. If I'm a horrible food thief, you have committed the exact same, if not worse, crime as myself.
Martin: Well, we are thick as thieves.
Jon, groaning: You're thick as something alright
Martin: Rude! My beloved husband-
Jon: -uh huh-
Martin: whom I love and trust with my most tender of hearts-
Jon: -an oddly cannibalistic turn of phrase-
Martin, badly suppressing laughter: Oh, my god. I want a divorce, then I can put tofu in as many dishes as I like. I'll triple my protein intake.
Jon: It'd never go through. I'll burn the papers. No, wait, I'll burn down the legal offices where the papers are kept.
Martin: Hmm. While my experiences with it have been, uh, varied to say the least, I do have to admit that arson is one of the more attractive crimes of passion. I suppose I'll take you back.
Jon, flat: I'm so very grateful.
Jon, genuine: You do have yet to actually tell me why you think tofu is wonderful, love.
Martin: It's just a good food! It's neutral enough that you can toss it in pretty much anything with a sauce, you can bake it, you can fry it, whatever. Plus it's what? two? Three quid? I spent many years of my life living off the cheapest, saltiest approximation of noodles you could imagine, and half a pack of tofu, a little bit of sesame oil, and some green onions went a long way to both making it more filling and less sad.
Martin: Plus, I feel like it often gets decried for being something it's not? It's so often viewed as a meat substitute or the vegan alternative option, and so when people try it, they often go in with a false preconceived notion of what it's going to be like, and then end up disappointed. They're all like, 'ugh, this doesn't taste like turkey!' and yeah, of course it doesn't. It's the oatmeal raisin cookie of the protein world, a perfectly good and tasty treat on its own, but if you want chocolate chip, it's not gonna work.
Jon: Martin you don't even like oatmeal raisin. I'm the only one that ever eats them out of the multipacks.
Martin: Well, yeah, but I don't like oatmeal raisin because of its flavor, not because I think it should be chocolate chip and fails. It illustrates my point. Also, just for balance, is your next small wonder oatmeal raisin cookies?
Jon: No, though, maybe one of these weeks. They are good. But no, um, my next small wonder is being married.
Martin, let out a high bark of a laugh: Being married is a small wonder?!
Jon: Small wonders doesn't mean a lack of importance! Or even significance in our lives. Half the time we even end up spending just as much time chattering on about them as the things we actually research. But, yes, I didn't feel like researching the concept of being married. For one, a lot of the history of it is depressing and patriarchal, and for two, it's not something I really feel any need to elaborate on. Being married. I very much enjoy it. I recommend it for anybody that's found someone that they want to marry, and who wants to marry them. I really recommend being married to Martin Blackwood, I think I would enjoy it significantly less if it was to anybody else, but one: we typically try to make the wonderful things in this show applicable to more than just ourselves, and two: I got there first, so I believe the appropriate thing to say here would be; neener neener and/or everyone else can go suck it, Ollie.
Martin: Well...
Jon: Well, what?
Martin: Saying you got there first is technically not true-
Jon: What?!
Martin, laughing like a bastard: Sorry, sorry! Couldn't resist! Jon, you already know that you're my first real realationship, how would be married before fit that?
Jon: Hence my surprise at the notion! I cannot believe you! I give you my trust, my earnestness, and belief-
Martin [only laughs harder]
Jon: and you throw it in my face for a bit. I take back everything, being married is a nightmare, because sometimes your partner thinks he a fucking comedian and you just have to put up with him because you love him and want to live the rest of your life with him or some such nonsense. Not worth it, if you ask me. My turn to ask for the divorce.
Martin: Babe, hate to break it to you, but both of us are guilty of doing bits that the other doesn't like, it's an integral part of a healthy marriage, and secondly, you knew who I was long before I proposed. You should've said no when you had the chance.
Jon: Hang on, you proposed?
Martin: Yeah? This isn't part of a bit, of course I proposed. I'm even pretty sure you were there. The whole visit back to Scotland trip? I finally made you a sweater and said it was because we would now be immune to the boyfriend curse?
Jon: No, no, I remember all that, but it wasn't the proposal. It was a reaffirmation of the proposal. We had already decided to get married.
Martin: Well, yeah,, I wasn't just gonna spring that on you, we had had conversations beforehand-
Jon: No, I mean, I had already proposed. I asked you to marry me a good three years earlier, and you said yes, which is a proposal by any definition that I know.
Martin: Jon, love, darling, apple of my eye, fire of my soul, I mean this in the nicest way possible, what the everloving fuck are you talking about?
Jon: In the ambulance ride when we, uh, moved here. It was the thing I said to you the second I saw your eyes were open.
[An audible pause is left in the recording.]
Martin: That does not count.
Jon: How does it not count?! I asked you to marry me, you very emphatically said yes, that's the de facto definition of an accepted marriage proposal!
Martin: It doesn't count because you were half-delirious with blood-loss, and I had a traumatic brain injury that the hospital was very surprised I made a full recovery from. No court in the world would consider anything we said then more than pain driven ramblings, let alone, I dunno, contractually binding.
Jon: Well, I knew what I was saying well and clear. Just because it was desperate doesn't mean it wasn't sincere. I didn't realize that you weren't as cognizant when you accepted.
Martin, snorting: Yeah, didn't really need to be cognizant to say yes. I've wanted to marry you since the train ride to Scotland.
Jon: Wait, really? Martin, we hadn't even been on a date.
Martin: And yet we were on the lamb together, which I honestly think is more romantic than sitting in some restaurant somewhere trying to get through icebreakers. Also, back up, from your perspective we've been engaged since 2019? What did you think we were doing in the interim?
Jon: Uhh..
Martin: Yes?
Jon: There are people that have long engagement periods, and it's not exactly like we were in any sort of position to get married for awhile. Especially not that first year.
Martin: Okay? And?
Jon: And..I sort of thought you had changed your mind. For awhile. Was rather surprised that you kept living with me, considering that, on the worst nights, I was convinced you were going to storm off and leave me forever any minute now. Hence why your proposal was rather relieving.
Martin: Oh, Jon, love. That is so very ridiculous, and so very you, and so very close to many of my own fears and doubts. Do you have any idea how terrified I was to float the idea of marriage to you? Half the time I was convinced I was just meant to keep you company until you found someone better. And, Christ, we'd, from your perspective, been engaged the whole damn time. Fuck.
[Jon, after a beat, starts laughing. It has a slightly hysterical edge to it. Martin joins in. It takes a minute for the laughter to subside enough for them to speak again.]
Jon: I'm rapidly realizing that our entire romantic relationship would've been, if not more successful, a hell of a lot faster if we weren't both complete fools.
Martin: You're realizing that now? I think I've known that since the CV incident. I've definitely known it since the Lonely.
Jon, with a slightly tired chuckle:Yes, yes, something probably should've tipped me off earlier. Shockingly, observation of our own personal romantic trends is not always a strong suit of mine.
Jon: Anyway, please tell me you have another small wonder, this has gotten wildly of track.
Martin: Since we're talking about marriage anyway, I think my next small wonder is having a shared reference in your wedding vows. Our friends had "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" in theirs, and I made Jon cry with a slightly altered Lord of the Rings quote in ours.
Jon: First off, we were both openly weeping long before that point, secondly, I defy anybody to have been through half of what we have and then have the love of their life look them in the eyes and tell them "Leave you? I never intend to. I am going with you, if you climb to the moon" without at least tearing up.
Martin: There wasn't a dry eye in the audience, either. Granted, the audience was only 20 people, but that was also literally the only time I've seen Eloise show a strong emotion, so I'm pretty smug about it.
Martin, soft: I still feel exactly the same, you know. If you're climbing to the moon, I'll make sure the rope is strong enough for two.
Jon, soft: I know, love.
Jon: Though, to be fair, the moon is also significantly more pleasant than many places we've been.
Martin: God, I hate how much that's true. Look at this barren, oxygenless rock, at least it's not actively trying to kill us. Practically a honeymoon location.
[Martin sighs]
Martin: I am so tired. Let's do the user submissions then take a very long nap.
Jon: Please.
Martin: So, first submission is from Josie; They find it wonderful getting cards from their friends. They say they're lucky to have so much love in their life and have friends that care enough to send them things. That is wonderful Josie! We have a drawer in our house dedicated to every loving card we've ever received since the move, and they're always such a nice reminder of the people in our lives.
Jon: We should really organize that drawer, but, yes, agree with the sentiment. Even the cards from people that are no longer in our lives are lovely, I think. Those connections are very much meaningful for both of us, whether they're active or not.
Martin: That's very true. Next submission is from Lys, who submits the sound of leaves crunching under your feet in the fall. Ah, that's a classic.
Jon: I just felt myself relax imagining it. I wish it was autumn.
Martin: Don't we all? Alright, for the last submissions, I'm grouping them together as they follow a similar theme. Jadwiga submits the feeling of waking up well into the morning with the sun shining through the window and your cat laying next to you, and Oran submits when a dog falls asleep with its head in your lap.
Jon: I can heartily recommend at least one of those, considering that's how we try to wake up most mornings. The Duchess is a dutiful darling girl who spends every night with us, and she's usually still there when us humans rise.
Martin: I bet you'll agree with the other when I finally convince you to get me a dog for my birthday.
Jon: It hasn't happened yet, so I wouldn't hold your breath.
Martin: But you don't even dislike dogs! You're just as happy to pet them when they pass by as I am.
Jon: Being fine with an animal isn't the same thing as wanting to adopt one for yourself! We don't even know if The Duchess would put up with a dog.
Martin: I bet she would. I bet we could get a big senior dog who's the calmest animal you've ever met with those soft eyes and a little grey on the muzzle and she would cuddle up in an instant. And we did say we should visit a shelter or three this weekend..
Jon: I think you're rather callously taking advantage of my exhausted state, but I suppose we can look.
Martin: Hell fuckin yeah. So, I think that'll close out the episode, and as we always say at the end, uh, go take a nap and get a dog. Not necessarily in that order.
Notes:
Three things!
One: the "I have been, and always shall be, your friend" is a line from Star Trek, and it was in my parents wedding vows, bc they're huge fucking nerds
Two: All these user submissions are real! Thank u to Lys, Josie, Jadwiga, and Oran for submitting!
Three: The song they sing a line of is "English Teacher" from Bye-Bye Birdie, in case you were curious
Chapter 8: Listener Questions
Summary:
b-b-b-bonus ep! they finally clear the air on their story with a little q and a
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Martin: Hey everyone! I know what some of you are thinking right now: it's not Tuesday, why is this episode in my feed? I know significantly more of you are thinking: I don't consistently keep up with podcast releases, how much free time do you think I have, buddy? To answer your queries: this is a bonus episode! We're answering listener questions to clear the air and/or have fun. Also, I don't know, around 20 to 40 minutes a week, as that is the average amount of time per episode? Maybe during your commute? My husband's omnipotence has been gone for five years, we just have to guess at that sort of thing now.
Jon: For legal reasons, that last statement was a joke. In fact, to cover all of our bases, we do not guarantee that any of our responses are genuine.
Martin: Just because we say we'll answer things doesn't mean we'll answer truthfully. Though, honestly, I think we might make it more enjoyable if we do tell the truth. Like, I don't necessarily have a fun lie prepared for our first question from konspiracyking97: "What's their fuckin deal anyway?"
Jon: Is this referring to the oblique references we've made about being from a parallel reality and only ending up here as a consequence of ending one apocalypse and potentially starting another or the general premise of the show?
Martin: Oh, it's gotta be general premise, yeah?
Jon: In that case, I'm Jon, the other voice you're hearing is Martin, we're married, and we talk about things that are..nice? Good? Usually generally but occasionally rather specifically pleasant.
Martin: That pretty much covers it. It's not a complicated show. Uhh, next question comes from Shane: are either or both of you aliens? Nope!
Jon: Well..
Martin: No. We are 100% human people from Earth, we are under no definition extraterrestrial.
Jon: Eh..
Martin: Okay, first off, I know the tone of that 'eh' and "not fully human" is not synonymous with alien, so even if 100% is being a bit generous, we're still from the same planet as our listeners.
Jon:..
Jon: But. We sort of aren't though. Technically speaking.
Martin: No no no no no. I don't care if it's parallel, Earth is Earth is Earth, regardless of whatever nonsense metaphysics might be occurring.
Jon: So what you're saying is that if you got sucked through a portal and landed on an Earth where dinosaurs were still the predominant species, you wouldn't consider yourself to be an alien?
Martin: Nope!
Jon: I'm certain that they would consider you an alien. All of their mammals are probably shrew sized.
Martin: Sounds like a them problem.
Jon: Sounds like a-?! You know what, no, this will be an off the record debate, for now, I suppose I concede that the two Earths and our physiologies are similar enough that we might, maybe, not count as aliens.
Martin: Thank you. Anyway, our next question is from anonymous, and asks, "Is all of this an ARG?"
Jon: A whomst?
Martin: Alternate reality game. It's a method of storytelling that's interactive with audience, and usually has, I dunno, a certain suspension of disbelief to it where it pretends to be something actually happening in the real world until a dramatic reveal. A lot times it was used as a marketing gimmick, but others have done it just for fun. I can show you some examples after the show?
Jon: So it's in essence a more involved creepypasta?
Martin, delighted: Aw, babe, I'm never going to have a handle on what pop culture you are and aren't aware of, huh?
Jon: We were born within a year of each other, and I've told you that I was a deeply morbid teenager, you should probably be able to intuit some of things, love.
Martin: This coming from a man who has yet to see "It's a Wonderful Life", but has seen every film in the "Banjo Cannibals" franchise, including the Easter special. Jesus doesn't exist in the Banjo Cannibals universe, why does it have an Easter special?
Jon: The movies are rather shoddily translated from Russian, so I'm fairly certain the Easter component of that special was invented wholesale in the English version.
Martin: You say that like it answers more questions than it raises.
Jon: Yes, because it does. Oh, and to answer anonymous's question, no, this isn't an ARG. From my understanding of it, if it were, it'd be a poorly constructed one, as there's no real game element to any of this.
Martin: Hmm. Well, sometimes the game component is just trying to figure out what's going on with the story, or if there's any deeper content, and people are definitely doing that with this show.
Jon: That's not by design though. It's more a side effect of us having poor brain to mouth filters, I'd say.
Martin: Harsh, but fair. Oh, this next one is from Zac, no K, who asks, "Are you two actually even married?"
Jon, flat: We are, but it's under false names because this whole thing is an elaborate insurance scam.
Jon, incredulous: Yes, obviously, we're married. What did you hear in this podcast that would make you wonder otherwise, and how do we rectify it?
Martin: Clearly we need to up our quota for how "disgustingly in love" and "horrifically sappy" we are per episode. Which segues nicely into the next question from Gwen, "What's your favourite wonderful thing you've brought so far?" My answer: my husband. He's kind of my favourite in most things, you know?
Jon: Boooooo
Martin: Why, what's your favourite thing?
[Jon reluctantly sighs]
Jon, indulgent: being married.
Martin: A: serves you right for trying to pretend you're the less horrifically sappy and romantic one even though earlier today someone put a love note in the lunch they packed for me-
Jon:- Lies and slander! I have never, in my life, done that, even once.
Martin: Oh, sure, not even once. And you definitely don't reserve the lilac sticky notes specifically for my lunches because you know I like the colour.
Jon: I..I don't.. you're rather ruining my image here.
[Martin snorts]
Martin: Can't have the audience think that you are, on occasion, an incredibly doting husband-
Jon: -A title I would argue we both share-
Martin: - which is obviously why, even with it being your favourite thing you've brought, being married to me is just a small wonder-
Jon, audibly rolling his eyes: As I already explained-
[A Pause}
Jon: Actually, you're right-
Martin: Wait-
Jon:- I really should have brought it as a larger wonder-
Martin: Wait-
Jon: though I should warn you, I think I'd have far too much material for just one little segment-
Martin: No no no no no-
Jon:- In fact, I think I might have too much material for just one little episode-
Martin: Joo-oon-
Jon: I might have to do a whole series! Where would I even start? I mean I could talk about how every day I get to watch the early morning sun highlight your curls when I get up first, or hear you quietly humming and shuffling around the kitchen when you do, or I could talk about how the lunch notes only started in the first place as retaliation to the notes you would leave on the mirror for me to find, or how every time I get to see you at ease in a way that you aren't with anyone else, it takes my breath away, or I could talk about how cute I find the lines between your eyebrows that you only get when you're thinking something petty, but you know it's petty so you don't want to say anything-
Martin: Okay, okay, Christ, I give !up I surrender, and will cease my teasing on this particular topic.
Jon, probably making the :3 face: You don't have to stop. I mean, I could also discuss how very, very attractive I find your voice when it takes on a teasi-mmph!
[There's a pleased hum, then a pause.]
[The audio quality is slightly changed, as if the recording has been stopped and then started later]
Martin, giddy: Uh, heh, anyway, Eric asked what the least favourite thing we've brought was, and because of Jon's attempt to embarrass me live-
Jon, overlapping: It's definitely not live-
Martin:- on air, I'm gonna say it's my husband.
[Jon scoffs]
Jon : If the past few minutes are any sort of indication, I'm going to go ahead and saying that you are lying.
Martin, sighing contentedly: Maybe a bit, but how was I supposed to resist when your indigance gives you that adorable little nose scrunch? In reality, my least favourite thing was probably, um, mini golf? Which, I still don't think is inherently bad, definitely superior to regular golf, but when it's the only thing a next door two year old wants to do with you, the charm begins to wear off a bit.
Jon: Wow. A rather scathing review of a toddler.
Martin: Not so much a scathing review of a toddler as it's a scathing review of minigolf's inability to keep its appeal after the third time in the same week.
Jon: Mmm, the sound effects rather quickly go from part of the atmosphere to part of the irritation, don't they?
Martin: So what's your least favorite thing we've covered here?
Jon: Oh, love, I'm not going to pretend to have nearly enough memory of what we've covered so far to have a least favorite.
Martin: Really? Nothing that you regret or rescind?
Jon: Well, regret, certainly. It was one of the weeks where you went first, and your second item was mutual aid funds, and what they can do for marginalized communities, and I had to follow it with fucking Slapchop.
Martin, poorly suppressing laughter: In your defence, Slapchop, or whatever offbrand we have, is pretty useful, especially when either your scar or my arthritis is acting up.
Jon: I'm still not convinced you didn't somehow see my notes for the recording and decided you get revenge for the first year that we knew each other.
Martin, no longer suppressing his laughter: Yep, you got me! This marriage wasn't an act of insurance fraud, but it was a near decade long con to humiliate you on a podcast that about twenty people listen to. I'll draft up the divorce papers immediately, and then we can finally go our separate ways.
Jon: I'm glad you've at last admitted it. Such a weight off of my shoulders. Goodbye forever then.
Martin: Right.
Jon: Right.
[A beat.]
[There's a pfft from one of them, before both dissolve into giggles that lasts a good 30 seconds.]
Martin, slightly out of breath: I can't believe we're the kind of people that talk this much about speciality kitchen gadgets.
Jon: Sorry about that.
Martin: God, don't apologize. I'm, like, deliriously happy with our varying degrees of useful cooking ware filled life. If you had told 25 year old me that one day he'd be debating the merits of getting a tortilla press with his husband, he'd have wept, I tell you.
Jon: Funny, if you told 25 year old me the same thing, he would've said "You don't know the future,piss off" and then quietly have a bit of a panic at 3 am that night.
Martin: I bet you were insufferable in your mid-twenties.
Jon: First of all, who isn't, secondly, I was fresh out of Oxford, and third, I was insufferable in my late twenties, as you can attest to, and I'm insufferable now, as you can further attest to, so extrapolation would indicate that, yes, I was insufferable back then.
Martin: Probably a different kind of insufferable, though.
Jon: There are different kinds?
Martin: Of course! You used to be "prick boss" insufferable and now you're "smug in a way that I can't admit I find hot or it will go straight to your head" insufferable.
Jon, in the aforementioned smug tone: Oh, really?
Martin: See, see! Straight to your head.
Jon: Well straight is probably the wrong descriptor-
Martin: Oof, 4 out of 10 joke, babe.
Jon: That would be a far more convincing rating if you weren't grinning right now.
Martin: It's a genuine review, I'm just well known to be a sucker.
Jon: You and me both, darling.
Martin: Okay, if you're pulling out darling, you're clearly in too giddy of a mood to be focused on recording. Last question, from Jess, "You two mentioned meeting at work, but how did you actually end up together?" That's easy, Jon pulled me out of a hell dimension and then we went on the lam together to Scotland.
Jon: If that's not the way to tell a cute boy you like him, I don't know what is.
Martin: All right, that wraps up this bonus episode, and as the old saying goes, hiding from murderers in a cottage is more conducive to romance than suggesting you gouge out your eyes together.
Jon, cut off: Hey-!
Notes:
banjo cannibals is not a real film franchise as far as i am aware
also the reviews on the slapchop website are buckwild

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