idk yet lmao

hello Jon..

*a large group of homos are teleported into a room*

??? Pov:

I open my eyes slowly to a large empty room. All the walls and floors are white, but I don't get a good look at the interior because of the bright lights forcing my eyes closed again. I think I can hear distant yelling in the background when I focus? But It's been like that for so long by now that I can't squander up the effort to care. My mind is still asleep, and I can hardly remember what I looked like (when was even the last time I looked in a mirror?) But the short, stubby arms surrounding me make me fall back into unconsionce before I even have the chance to think about it.

(Season 4) Bashira pov:

One second, I'm still in the archives, still sitting in one of the wretched old office chairs, at what I think was formally Sasha's desk. The next, I'm standing right in front of her. Of course, seeing as I've never met her before, I didn't immediately know that, but I sure as hell knew the guy standing right next to her. Tim.

They seemed to be mid conversation, Sasha looked to be organizing something in one of the higher shelves in the archives, meanwhile Tim fell as if he was leaning on something before he got here. But they both looked younger. Tim didn't have any of those ugly scars that he somehow managed to pull off, neither of them had that ancient look in their eyes that everyone seemed to have now. They both, despite obviously working in the archives, and thus only being a few odd weeks away from the start of the Jane Prentiss incident (™), looked so young. So happy. Part of me wishes I could warn them, and part of me knows it's already far too late.

Sasha looked nothing like how she was described, but that was to be expected due to that Not!Them. Contrast to the light skin, black hair, and harsh features presented on the Not! Sasha, the real person was a lot more genuine. She was short, with warm brown skin, curly black hair and glasses about as round as her face was, and she wore a dark blue lanyard over pale green sweater, and a long black skirt. She overall came across as really formal, but not nearly as boring as Jon was.

I finally tear away from my shock to see them staring back in an odd contortmant of fear, confusiment and shock.

It takes a second for me to realize that they weren't staring at me.

Surrounding us are all different versions of ourselves, Daisy, and the others, all at different points in whatever twisted story that is our life now. I see myself at the start of it all, probably from the same time as the two in front of me. I can't help but cringe. A version of myself that has never stepped foot in the archives. A version of myself that's perfectly content with spending the rest of her life with as a police officer working alongside the woman she loves. A version of myself that I will never get back.

I'm about to say something when a bright flash appears before me and groups me whith the others that I recognize from my point in time. I take this time to look at all the other groups, and I try not to cringe as I see the number of people in each group go down, and I try not to cry when I don't see Daisy in the group after us.

In fact, there are only two people in the group next to us. I can hardly make out who it is due to how hard they're latched onto one another. I can see only the hand of the smaller one, clutching desperately onto the other's sweater, as if afraid that if he let go, or even as much as lossend his grip, they would disappear forever, but one hand is all I need to know that it's Jon. Now that I at least know who one of them is and have the vage idea of what he's supposed to look like, it's a bit easier to separate them. He still has the apprentice of one of those pencils I broke when showing off back in grade school, but curled up with whoever the hell that is, clinging on so desperately, he somehow managed to look even smaller. It almost made me feel bad for the guy. Almost. Till I remember that he's an edrich thing who literally eats people's trauma. But now that I have that figured out, who the hell is that? It almost looks like Martin, but he's paler, and instead of curly red hair, it's almost white, with only small  random streaks of red that make it almost look like a soft sad pink, and instead of vibrant curls, its a nappy mess, that almost looks like it had once tried to be curls, but had long since given up.

I'm just about to turn to the people from the same group as I am, when there's a loud screech as the old intercom in the corner of the otherwise empty room turns on.

"Hello, hello, is this thing working?" Says a loud, staticy voice from the speaker.

Pretty much the entire room has been strangely quiet thus far (other than the the Tim's and Sasha,) so I flinch at the sound of another voice.

"Ah! Hello there! Sorry it took me to get the microphone to work! You must all be pretty confused, let me explain what's going on!" Screeches the staticy voice over the intercom. I don't like them. Naturally, there aren't any more things that I do like nowadays; but there's something in the way they speak, there's too much exclamation. They speak as if they aren't talking to people who just lost a friend to a fucking world ending ritual. And looking at the two next to me, the grasping forms, clutching desperately to another, as if trying to become one, a lot, lot worse.

"So as you all probably, hopefully, realized by now, is that there are multiple versions of yourself." the voice continues, "the reason for that is because you've been split up into seasons."

Seasons? Is this their sick version of entertainment?

It's almost as if they read my mind, because right after I thought that they say,

"Before anyone asks 'why seasons?', it's because of what you all are in my universe. You're all characters, in an, admittedly, fucked up podcast. But before you get mad at me, no, I didn't create said podcast. The creator is actually a guy named-.." the annoyingly cheery voice cuts itself off before it finishes. "Actually, since one of you are named after the guy, I think it'd be easier if I don't say his name." They finally add. Why do I get the creeping suspicion that it's Jon?

"And, if anyone had questions about the whole 'multiverse' thing, then feel free to ask the two at the far left. They probably won't answer, considering this is the first time in a long while that they've felt any sense of exhaustion, but you can give it a go I guess!" (A/n: Lowkey felt like Cecil Palmer here😭) Pretty much the entire room shifts after they say that, as if having just realized that the two were there. I watch Daisy cringe at the lack of anyone else around them, and I see the look of pure horror on Sasha's face at the realization that that's Jon.

"Anywho! Now that that's all out of the way, let's explain why you're all here!"

To be continued...
(A/n: ehehehehehehehhehehehwhwhwhwhhwhehwehehhehehehehehehe, cliffhanger>:33)