#it would be so funny if jonah is trapped in there with them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angelic-writer · 1 year

Text

Strategy

((Hoo lordy, here I am back from the depths of writer’s block briefly to bring you this thing. Now I know you all are gonna scream at me “Angel, when’s the next chapter of Risk? Where is it? I need it!” Shh. It’ll come out when I finish it, okay? Be patient. For now, enjoy this thing I’m about to torture you all l with. Once again, thank you to @serickswrites for the plot of this. :) ))

It had been days since they were trapped in the church. It had been days since they were kidnapped from their families. Why haven’t the police found them yet? Surely four people going missing would attract some sort of police attention, but of course in Mandela, the police were just as useful as a disinterested teacher.

“We need a strategy to get out of here.” Adam said to Cesar as the shorter man huddled against Jonah.

Cesar could only nod. Heavy bags had clearly formed under his eyes. He was exhausted from standing for the last two days in cuffs. He stroked Mark’s face as he leaned on Jonah. The look his best friend had threatened to break his heart. His face had a pallor that he hadn’t seen before, his fair skin turned white as snow. The breaths he took were ragged, interspersed with coughs. There was nothing he could do to alleviate his pain, just whisper to him that it’ll be okay. Which is exactly what he did. “It’s okay, Mark. We’re gonna get out of here soon. Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

It felt like such a lie.

Mark had yet to wake up since O’Brien left them.

O’Brien. The bastard that fooled the group into thinking that they could trust him. When they were at their most vulnerable, he struck. When Cesar had been strung up, he had been forced to watch his trusted pastor choke his best friend. Choke him until his face turned red, drool run down his chin and his struggles slowly subsided. During it, he noticed that O’Brien had a smile that stretched wide on his face. The kind of smile a normal human would not make. It was only after a few rounds of this that O’Brien began to drown Mark. Repeatedly.

“I’m baptizing him.” He said.

Cesar had screamed and fought against the restraints as did Adam and Jonah. Bruised their wrists. But they were powerless to help Mark. Powerless as they watched him sputter and gasp for air as his head was brought up. Powerless as they watched him go limp in the tub. And powerless as they watched O’Brien revive Mark repeatedly. All while still smiling that crescent moon smile. It was like a game to him, toying with his subjects. His pitiful humans.

The real O’Brien had died a long time ago and was replaced by this... thing disguising itself as him. The others found it funny that they realized that now.

Only after O’Brien had his fun did he cut Cesar down. He had crawled over to him, crying out his name. He had to know if Mark was still alive. Thankfully, he was.

That was hours ago. Cesar had pulled Mark into his lap and held him close as the others came over. The pastor had clearly released them from their restraints. “Now, you four be good now.” O’Brien said. “I’ve got a service to attend to. After that, there is plenty more fun to come. And who knows,” He looked to Cesar. “Maybe you’ll join in on the fun too. You wouldn’t want to leave your precious Mark alone now, would we?”

The smell of warm water still wafted in his nose as he stroked Mark’s damp hair. He still hadn’t stirred. Just coughed and wheezed in his unconsciousness. Cesar adjusted his body so it would make it easier for him to breathe, still whispering words of reassurance to him. He wanted to believe that what he was saying was true, but with the situation they’re in, it was hard. Of course, that only strengthened his resolve.

They needed to get out of here. Cesar wasn’t sure how much longer any of them could last, especially Mark. They all had to get out for him. As he was about to open his mouth to speak, it was Jonah who spoke. “What are you thinking?”

Adam signed and looked at the silver haired man. “It... may be risky, but if we time it right, it might work.”

-----

Cesar knew that Adam and Jonah still needed to iron out the details of the plan. Their argument after the initial pitch clearly proved that. He knew that they would all escape together as soon as they could. But he didn’t like having to wait. Not when O’Brien had taken a special interest in only torturing Mark now.

The poster child of Mandela Community Church. He always came to their services and prayed to the Lord nightly, clearly ready to spread the gospel when he was older. O’Brien had always treated him like a son and so, Mark referred to him as his second father. If only he knew what happened next...

Mark had been quiet when he finally woke up. He had a persistent cough that left him breathless and shaky. Cesar had to gently hold his shoulders and instruct him to breathe. Mark followed his example shakily and was only rewarded with more coughing. The older boy clearly knew what that meant. He was suffering from secondary drowning and if they don’t get him help soon, he will die. The more he coughed, the more his hatred for O’Brien grew. When he sees him again, he was going to strangle him. Beat his head to a bloody pulp.

No one hurts my best friend and gets away with it.

Soon, Mark caught the sight of O’Brien returning and clung onto him. Cesar held him tightly as he glared at the pastor.

“Woo! What a service! There were a whole lot of people there. Dare I say, it’s the greatest turnover we’ve ever got!” He spun around, causing his robe to flutter. “Got the whole congregation out of their seats during the last performance! Heh, it felt... empowering, y’know? According to the other band members, that’s never happened before. Made me feel real special...” Cesar gritted his teeth. Who do they think they are, trying to act like the O’Brien they know?

He looked to the others. “Now... Where were we...? Oh right!”

He strode over to them causing Mark to shout “Y-You bastard! I-I won’t let you hurt them!”

Cesar held onto Mark tightly, both Adam and Jonah had already been restrained by O’Brien. “I won’t let you take him! Take me! ME! NOT HIM!”

But Cesar’s pleas fell on deaf ears. The pastor only had eyes for Mark. He wrenched him away from his grasp and grabbed Cesar by the shirt collar, pulling him to stand. Before he could have a chance to fight back, he was quickly cuffed back up, though he did try.

“LET HIM GO! TAKE ME! ME!” Cesar roared as he pulled on his restraints, wrists raw and painful.

As O’Brien dragged Mark towards the tub, the younger boy was vehemently shaking his head as if telling Cesar to stop. That didn’t stop him from crying out, tears streaming down his face as he tried again and again to break out of his bonds. At this point, his wrists would start to bleed.

O’Brien turned back to Cesar and said “Oh, don’t worry. You’ll go next.”

Mark’s eyes widened. No. He can’t. He can’t hurt him. It was only supposed to be him. He was the one that was supposed to be sacrificed. He can’t let this thing hurt him.

Mark struggled against the pastor, but he was so weak that it made no difference. Figures. I was always weak. He coughed harder and wheezed as O’Brien shoved him towards the tub. Mark didn’t get to take a breath around his coughs as his former father figure shoved his head below the surface.

Cesar, Adam and Jonah shouted and cursed at O’Brien, begging him to let Mark go, to take them instead, but it was useless. They couldn’t escape. And as Mark went limp in his arms, Cesar felt something snap inside of him. A primal rage that had built up inside for the past three days.

You... You killed him. You killed Mark.

You murdered him!

Cesar’s arms were shaking. His legs were quaking. His whole body quivered with rage. He should be tired from standing, but pure adrenaline was rushing through his body now. O’Brien must pay. He must pay for what he did. But the logical side of his brain took over, telling him that he had to hold on a bit longer. That Adam and Jonah knew what to do. They would hatch his plan. He just needed to hold on so they could help Mark.

After what felt like days of watching O’Brien drown Mark in the tub, he finally stopped. He tossed the brunette aside, him flying through the air before landing in a heap face down. There, he remained unmoving. Cesar couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see his breaths.

Fuck, hurry up! Hurry up so I can help him!

“Hah, I think he’s been baptized now. Shame. He was such a good boy. Oh well.” He looked to Cesar who was still staring at Mark with gritted teeth. “Oh, don’t be like that! I told you, you’ll be next. Think about it. You’ll finally be reunited with your best friend, hand in hand. Isn’t that a joyous thought?” He kicked Mark onto his back, rolling his body further away from Cesar and the rest of the group’s watchful eyes.

He slowly made his way to him, no doubt to release him from his restraints. But he didn’t dare to look at him. He couldn’t take his eyes off Mark. Couldn’t stop straining to see the rise and fall of his chest. He wasn’t stupid. He knew Mark could not be breathing after an ordeal like that. He knew that he was far from okay.

He killed the one person he cared about. His best friend. His brother.

He let his instincts take over. He caught O’Brien off guard and put him in a chokehold. For a short man like himself, he had a strength that surprised even himself. He threw him onto the ground and started raining down punches on his face. With every punch, all the anger burst free like a dam. He screamed in pain, in sorrow, incomprehensible words flowing out as all sounds faded away.

When he came to, he was covered in blood. Beneath him was O’Brien, still with his face swollen. He wasn’t getting up from that anytime soon. He glanced over to Adam and Jonah who were staring at him in shock. Numbly, he got up and released them from their restraints.

“Holy...” Adam whispered before Cesar interrupted.

“Just take Jonah and get out of here. I’ll get Mark.”

Adam nodded before pulling Jonah’s arm across his shoulder and started to hurry from the room.

“Wait! Mark... What about Mark?!” Jonah weakly said.

“Cesar has him. Let’s just focus on getting out of here.”

Jonah tried to turn around. Tried to stop. But he was dragged forward by the blonde’s hurried footsteps. He turned his head to see Mark hanging limply in Cesar’s arms, limbs flopping with each step the older boy took. Jonah could see Mark’s eyes were slightly open.

That should tell him he was fine. He was alright. But he knew better. He knew better than to make a hopeful judgement like that. Upon closer inspection, he saw that Mark’s chest was unmoving. His eyes were empty and blank. And worst of all... He was quiet. Quieter than they had been since O’Brien started torturing him days ago. “C-Cesar... A-Are you...”

“He’s fine, Jonah. He’s fine. I got him.” Cesar replied, his voice holding an edge to it that he and Adam hadn’t heard in a long time: Regret. He was lying.

“Well, what are you waiting for?! Help him! Do the thing they do in movies! Help him!” Jonah pulled against Adam.

“We will. Once we get to safety, we can help him.” His grip on the dark skinned man tightened. “He needs to be safe too, Jonah.”

Jonah closed his eyes as he allowed Adam to pull him forward, the sounds of Cesar taking deep frantic breaths and blowing into Mark’s mouth filling his ears from behind. They would be safe. Soon.

By the time Adam slowed down, Jonah was out of breath and shaking. He could barely move. Both of them were exhausted, but none of that mattered. They needed to help Mark.

“I-I think we’re safe here.” Adam huffed to Cesar.

Cesar nodded, his face pale and chest heaving. He clutched Mark tightly.

“Please, help him.” Jonah begged as he collapsed to his knees. He couldn’t stand anymore. His body was giving up. But not yet. Mark needed them.

The group was safe. They were all safe. They had escaped. Gotten to freedom. Now, they just have to wait for the police to find them.

Before Jonah could even move, Cesar was already pumping his chest, his skin slick with sweat. He could tell he was about to collapse at any moment. Cesar was running on pure adrenaline at this point. All he has on his mind is Mark Mark C’mon breathe Don’t leave me.

When he inevitably collapsed, Adam took over compressions while Cesar stroked his head. “It’s okay, Mark. We’re safe now. You can wake up now. You with me? Hey... You still with me?”

His broken voice only strengthened Adam’s resolve. After everything they’ve been through, he will not let his best friend die. He won’t let down Cesar. He won’t let down Sarah.

Several minutes passed and Mark’s condition didn’t change. They had switched multiple times, but nothing seemed to work. It was only when Jonah could no longer give rescue breaths as he was so out of breath did all of them realize their efforts were futile. They had executed the escape plan far too late for Mark.

“What... Why isn’t this working...? It was supposed to work. He was supposed to come back...” Cesar whimpered.

“Ces... I don’t think he’s...” Adam started to say.

“No! W-We can’t give up! We have to keep going until the police arrive!” Jonah shouted.

“Jonah... He’s been down for several minutes. I don’t think he’s gonna wake up...”

“No... W-What about Sarah? We can’t just tell her that Mark’s dead!”

While the argument continued, Cesar stared down at Mark’s face. His eyes had remained partially open, his jaw slack and mouth open with the rescue breaths, but he was utterly still and deathly pale. He knew why.

Death had already claimed him.

He recalled all the times he told him that everything will be okay, he wouldn’t let anything happen to him... All of that felt like one giant lie.

He wanted to protect Mark, but he failed. And because of his failure, his best friend is dead.

Letting out a gut-wrenching sob, he closed Mark’s eyes one final time. Adam and Jonah gathered around Cesar as he took his former best friend into his arms and whispered words of sorrow into his drenched hair. “I’m sorry... I’m so sorry... I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you...”

Adam pulled Jonah into his arms as the latter began to sob. As much as they didn’t want to believe it, the truth was right in front of them. They had employed the strategy to escape and it had worked. They were free of O’Brien and the torture had ended. But their loss was greater than any one of them could bear, their grief all consuming as they each realized that Mark had needed them, had needed the plan, and they had failed to follow through until it was far too late.

And for Cesar, nothing could fill the hole that Mark left. It was a neverending darkness that was left by his presence. An indescribable ache was left in his heart. He didn’t just lose his best friend that day. He lost what he considered to be a brother. The person he grew up with.

All the memories, all the happy smiles and fun times they had together... No one could ever come close to him. They were like glue, refusing to be apart. O’Brien forced them apart and he paid the price. Of course, that won’t bring him back. It was already too late by the time they got him out. They were too late...

Something began to swell up in his chest. A warm, painful feeling. It was a mixture of grief, anger and...

No.

It can’t end like this. It can’t. He couldn’t end it like that.

He won’t let it end like that.

With a newfound vigor he didn’t think was possible, he resumed compressions, his brows knitted and his teeth gritted. He won’t let him go. He won’t.

“Cesar, stop! He’s not coming back!” Adam shouted, but he didn’t hear him. He tried to pull him off, but he pushed him back, barking “Don’t touch me!!” He pressed harder, feeling his ribs give away with a loud crack. Doesn’t matter. It’ll heal. He just needs to breathe.

Jonah sobbed and buried his face in his hands. Why is Cesar in denial? They already know the truth. Mark’s gone. They failed. So why is Cesar still trying?

“C’mon, Mark... Please... You gotta wake up... Please come back to me...” He breathed into his mouth once again, letting his air fill up his lungs. The coldness of his skin didn’t deter him. He will keep going until he is forced to stop. One minute passed. Then another. And another. Cesar’s strength didn’t fade for a second. He was determined to keep Mark here.

“C’mon, Mark, breathe! Please wake up! I need you! Please breathe for me!” He pleaded to his shaking body as he continued pressing down. New tears fell from his eyes and splashed onto his soaked hoodie. Adam and Jonah stared at the scene in complete hopelessness. Cesar is clearly lying to himself. He believed that with a few shouts of encouragement, Mark will come back just like that? They can’t deny reality. They can’t deny the fact that he had gone without air for too long not to mention that he had been drowned multiple times. He’s never gonna come back from this drowning. Cesar just has to face reality.

He didn’t know how many cycles he tried. Maybe fourteenth? Fifteenth? He lost track, his mind laser focused on Mark. For a moment, he thought he saw Mark’s hand twitch. Could it be...?

“Yes. That’s it. C’mon, you can do it. Come back to me, Mark. C’mon!” He continued compressions, not letting up for a second. Just a few more...

Adam placed a hand on his shoulder. “Cesar... I’m sorry, but he’s gone.”

Cesar shook his head. “No. No, I won’t let him die! I can’t fail him!”

His grip tightened which caused him to shake him off. He noticed his eyes were beginning to flicker. He felt himself begin to smile.

“Come back to me, Mark. I need you. We all need you.” He gave him a couple of rescue breaths for good measure. As he began another round, a miracle happened.

Mark began to spasm as water began to spill out of his mouth. Cesar immediately rolled him onto his side and rubbed his back as he coughed. A torrent of water spilled out of him. He gripped his stomach painfully as he vomited. “That’s it. There you go. Just breathe. Let it all out.” Cesar whispered, stroking his hair.

Adam and Jonah both stared in shock. “Wha... But, this isn’t possible... There’s no way he would...” Adam trailed off. He blinked his eyes, trying to convince himself that it was just a dream, a hallucination. When he touched Mark’s hand though, he realized it wasn’t a dream. Mark had come back from the dead.

Mark slowly opened his eyes. “Wh... What...?”

“Hey, hey bud. Can you hear me? W-We’re safe. We’re okay. You’re okay now.” He gently hugged him, allowing himself to sob.

Mark hugged back and stroked his hair. “Yeah, I can hear you.” He wheezed.

Somewhere in the distance, a police woman appeared. After a second of staring at the scene in shock, she immediately went to her radio. “Guys, contact Davis and Weaver! We found them! They’re near St. Gabriel’s Church!”

“About time...” Mark muttered before he and Cesar pulled away. “Listen, I-I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I swear I heard you. I was knocked out. You were telling me to wake up and that you needed me.” He smiled. “I... I guess our friendship really did beat death itself.” He grimaced. “Ugh, my chest hurts...”

Cesar chuckled. “It’s okay. They’ll fix you up.”

“I hope so.” Mark said before he coughed.

Cesar rubbed his back as the coughing fit subsided. Mark gave him a weak smile and he, too, smiled back. He pulled him close to him, holding his hand tightly. Mark held his hand back, his grip just as strong as before. They both stayed in this embrace as the police sirens approached.

#the mandela catalogue #mark heathcliff #cesar torres #adam murray #jonah marshall #do not tag as ship #This takes place when they're about college age

18 notes · View notes

lexarga · 1 year

Text

Uncoffined

@a-mag-a-day I'm being Extremely Normal about the tapes today.

—

[I’m scared? When does the fear go away?... A-Anyway, I’m sorry.]

'Understanding' never was Beholding's strong suit, and much less with an Archivist who was impulsive and reckless and arrogant and oh-so-quick to throw himself out into the gutter for a misguided concept of 'doing good'. He never did give himself enough time to think things through, never grasped that he might need it; the difference between knowing and comprehending. Always too caught up in the big picture to understand the details. I suppose, in many ways, that is the role we play in this particular thread of history, if the wordplay will be excused. We are happy enough to help the Watcher, as long as it will behave and not make trouble.

[Inside of that wooden coffin, there was a staircase. It went down, apparently into the ground below, and seemed to go on as deep as I could see.]

A rib. It was funny at first, and then it was not funny anymore, not when the Archivist actually went through with it and thought it would be enough. Funny for an Archivist to give such importance to matters of flesh and bone. We almost wanted to leave him there, trapped deep below creation, a nifty little solution to set Jonah's plan back at least several years. But he was at least smart enough to take a recorder with him, and Choke did not deserve to have him. He is Ours.

[I can feel the knowledge pushing at my mind, eager to find a way in. But I don’t want it. I don’t want to know. I don’t want to see.]

So tape recorders slowly started to show up in the Archives. In the storage rooms. On the floor. In Cupboards. On the floor. But they never could make it on top of the coffin— never, in all of their threading and playing and spinning and spooling, could get hold of their sibling inside.

[I think he thinks that the distance keeps us safe, you know? Like, like, if he just makes sure that we’re not involved, we’re somehow fine.]

He understood quick enough, the Lonely Spinner, when the recorders began to pile up on his desk, to take them back. He stacked them high and left them running, and sat on the ground, filling the Archives with a thick, heavy fog and leaving the recorders and the wooden floor tear-stained.

[We were speeding towards the scene, but couldn’t do anything but listen to it over the radio.]

Their voices wove together beautifully; the Archivist's and the Hunter's and the Lonely Spinner's and the Detective's. Their web stretched far and below and grasped its threads right around its missing link and pulled it closer within its entombment.

The rib lay inert in a desk drawer. The detective burst into the room— one missing tape spooling away her name on her desk, pulling her and the Hunter ever closer.

[Elias is keeping me busy. Hunting. Takes a while. I’m used to working with a partner... It’s fine.]

The Archivist was left to turn the tape recorders off. Thread by thread he undid the web that had been his salvation.

The last was left running until the end.

[We really need you, Jon. Everything’s – It’s bad. I-I don’t know how much longer we can do this. We – I need you.]

He always was a bit sentimental. He should hold on to it— it might just be what we need.

#tma #mag 132 #the magnus archives #a mag a day #this is basically mag 132 from the web's perspective #i am being. so normal about the tape recorders today.#the web #the mother of puppets #lex wrote a thing??

18 notes · View notes

bibatbrat · 9 months

Text

TMA Season 4

I did take a hiatus for several months three episodes before the finale for unknown (depressed) reasons 🥲 But nonetheless, I stay silly

Oliver Banks relatable as hell for stealing a dead man’s identity to sneak aboard a scientific research vessel so that he can get some damn sleep

But also him laying out for John what’s happening and why and the choice he needs to make… and then John starting to breathe again…. God

Tim being the first one John asks about when he wakes up. Screaming and crying and throwing up.

And Basira immediately adding Daisy 🥲

He’s The Archivist now huh

I love Melanie so much, queen of having emotions that no one else will fucking acknowledge

Chelicerae and the story-spinner are so good, I’m 100% stealing them for DnD or something

John saying he wishes he could talk to his team and then acknowledging that he’s nostalgic for something that never really happened 🥺

Simon Fairchild is so funny, man just loves being spooky dooky

Civilian Casualties is very good. I don’t normally care that much for the Slaughter statements, but this one was tasty

Performing non-consensual surgery on your unconscious co-worker = hostile work environment?

Martin talking to the tape recorder is so fucking cute

Man, that coffin just fucking loves eating cops huh

John using his powers to track Martin down for a convo…. Gay as hell

Martin telling John that he won’t let him die again…. Gay as hell

The whole concept of “bias of survivorship” is so interesting… I know that John doesn’t want to access that knowledge, but I do

Personally think that the Flesh ritual should have been called “the Munchies” but that’s just me

Helen trapping Jared in a rat maze labyrinth is so funny, I love her

Self-harm in the name of seeking knowledge… yes 😌

Jared’s so funny for being an Avatar and nope-ing out of his Fear’s ritual. He simply did not feel like it.

ngl seems a little disingenuous to leave behind an explanation/apology to your friends for the stupid thing you’re about to do w the rib that you got yanked out of you for some spilled tea (a stupid thing to do)

*uses my evil magic powers to give my friend therapy*

Seriously though, Daisy and John have a… rocky relationship, but it was very nice for them to get some Comfort together in the midst of the Hurt

The Everchase is so good. They got the zoomies

T H E E X T I N C T I O N

Shoutout to the Web and the End for being the baddest bitches around

I do love the “protag works for the bad guys bc they’ve traded their service for the safety of the people they care about” trope

Martin putting a bunch of tapes on the coffin to help John find his way back 🥺

Very funny that the Dark’s ritual was like “what if we had a sun….. of DARKNESS 😈😈😈”

John being disappointed that he can’t watch the cursed Web horror movies… same, bestie

Gertrude saying that she cares for Gerard and doesn’t want to risk losing him stopping the Unknowing… makes me 🥺 but also lowkey makes everything so much worse

Elias telling Martin that his decision about joining the Lonely is “too important to interfere with” is so funny

Smirke’s statement is so interesting… it’s wild that someone who was so instrumental in the academia of the Fears would have a change of heart so close to the end. It’s also wild that he continues to trust Jonah despite it all. At least he got the quick death he prayed for.

The Desolation’s beef with Gertrude after Agnes is so tasty

And the way they create Agnes is so wonderfully fucked up and terrible

Agnes being destroyed by DOUBT. AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

SHE MADE THEM HANG HERRRRRRR

John getting hurt when he tries to use his powers to Know what Peter’s plans are is very good

Can’t believe Mikaele Salesa fell for the old “one last job” trap 😔 we hate to see it

Gertrude intimidating Arthur Nolan…. What a fucking girlboss

V much like Arthur’s notion that the entities understand people as little as people understand them

And him talking about how he thinks they fucked up raising Agnes bc they treated her as their messiah and not as a child 🥺

Annabelle 💜

Basira beating the shit out of Elias is very funny

Cul-de-sac is so fucking good

Daisy saving John from Julia and Trevor… Hunter v Hunter shit is AWESOME

Eric’s statement makes me crazy… I love all of the old Institute drama and it’s so fucked up to hear him being so intensely focused on keeping Gerry safe when we know in the present-day that he’s dead

John going to Martin to suggest that they both blind themselves and run away together… Gay

Cost of Living is also fucking bonkers

Melanie ☹️

Peter thinking that it’s funny to jump out and scare Martin is so fucking funny

Adelard concrete-ing an avatar to death(-ish) is badass as hell

But also very funny to imagine him doused in gasoline and about to light the match when he’s like “oh shit!!!” and runs off to write the email real quick lol

Georgie and Melanie… love wins

I love it when John tries to compel another avatar and they get into a stand-off. I think he loses to Helen because he’s acting out of the very human emotions of fear and love. To do it properly, I bet he needs to lose more of his humanity

Peter mentioning Tim and Martin shutting him down… my heart…

Jolias…..

Gertrude challenging Elias to shut the fuck up or actually kill her and him shooting her in the heart before she even finishes the threat is so camp, I love him

Daisy letting the Hunt overtake her so that she can fight Julia and Trevor AGHHHHHHHH

Elias and Peter do have incredibly divorced energies and I love them for it

Peter taunting John in the Lonely while he desperately looks for Martin

Oh god and him coming out with the “you won’t be able to hurt anyone if you stay in here ☺️”

It kills me how readily Peter gives up his statement. Yeah he resists and yeah he’s compelled, but once John gets him started it all comes tumbling out so easily… something something ironic how an avatar of the Lonely jumps so quickly at the chance of being heard and understood, the most human connection of all

Absolutely fascinated by the Lukas family dynamics… need some more statements from those bitches

Gertrude fucking stops his ritual by cancelling him, I’m….

The parallels between John compelling Martin to see him in the Lonely to follow him out versus John compelling Tim to see the truth behind the Unknowing to stop it (by killing himself)

OH IT’S THE FUCKING MEME HERE WE GOOOOO

I love Elias so much, what a fucking bitch

What a fantastic villainous monologue 💜

Oh they are so fucking fucked

#live blogging #j listens to tma #tma

4 notes · View notes

realitymoves · 1 year

Text

nick never had any idea his parents used to be part division. they spoke of how evil and corrupt the agency was but he'd always figured it had to do with the testing on psychics.

after leaving hong kong, a man named troy banks reached out saying he'd used to be on the same team as jonah. given everything that had just happened with carver, nick thought it might be a trap. but, then, that didn't necessarily make sense because division would want his head.

so, nick indulged.

troy explained about a man named ezra lowe, the only changer division had ever seen. he explained about how division's ideaology changed from protection to making sure the world was kept in line. then, he explained how a unit of psychics tried to fight back against the corruption. they lost and they lost bad. those left alive had to flee; going underground in order to hide from division sniffs.

nick's mother, nicole, was killed shortly after he was born. sniffs managed to find the hospital he was born at and track them from there.

jonah heard through the grapevine that elizabeth, cassie's mom, had willingly turned herself in a month after her husband just up and disappeared with their child. funny, that.

then, henry said, jonah himself finally died at the hands of carver. the very same carver who'd turned on their unit all those years ago. now there was just henry and olivia left. unfortunately, he hadn't heard from olivia in years and had no idea if the phaser was still alive.

#( ㅤ ♠️ ㅤ ) laughter rising inside ———— headcanon #death tw #i just read most of the prequel comic #and put this together from that

2 notes · View notes

soul-dwelling · 1 year

Note

It's weird that even if she was his first atempt, Mana seemed to be a more dynamic, dimmensional and active in the story charachter than either Patty or Iris/Amaterasu. Patty seemed to get the wackyness dialed up so much that she was more of a cartoon than someone one can take serious and in fireforce it seemed like splitting the charachter into two resulted in two nothingburgers - one "nice one" and one crazy evil one - both shallow as Elon Musks conscience

LOL, is this because of stuff I wrote on this blog and on wikis about Mana, Patty, and Iris looking the same? (And Mana and Patty having the same cowboy hat in artwork?)

I do think Patty is a bit one-dimensional--which is probably why she’s my favorite character to write in any RP or fiction. She is the perfect character to have say just about anything. You need a funny line? She can deliver it. You need a serious moment to land? She is the least expected to give it, so when she does deliver it, you take it seriously. It’s why having her as a cartoon works for me.

But that also means I then find Mana to actually be less dynamic and dimensional.

I mean, she does take part in the action--but still a bit less than the others. We have her moping about not having a friend. We don’t get to finally see her confront her family. She’s knocked out in a fight she had no way to compete in. She’s dressed up and dumped down a sewer--to save her, so that means she needed a rescue. And she gets only one major fight left in the series before the finale--a good fight to be sure, given how she wrecks Agai’s robot, minus the “Tool gets a nosebleed due to Mana falling onto him.”

But she doesn’t feel like she gets her full potential. Patty gets to be saved by Liz from poverty--but she also is a beast in the fight against the desert train. Iris may be underdeveloped--but her meditations on what her faith means are compelling.

Mana? Mana feels like she is here to have that confrontation with her family, to show she can make friends with goofballs like Shotaro and Yohei and Tool and whoever else she would meet on her journey, to rub it in her family’s face and show she is strong because she has gone toe to toe alongside her friends…and B Ichi just didn’t do more with the story to give her that moment.

It feels like an incomplete story, whereas Patty and Iris, however much I didn’t like aspects of the manga they come from, got to have stories that teased out just enough of their overall personality that I can imagine writing them.

But writing Mana? That is something I’m not sure how to do, because she feels underdeveloped unless you can write her into a fight sequence or finally have her face off against her family…and then what? How does she regard Shotaro? What is so compelling about their friendship to make it stand out more? Same with her regard with Tool. She’s kind of flirty with Yohei, which is gross.

As for the dynamic of Iris and Amaterasu…yeah, that collapsed. It’s boring.

It reduces Iris to just a doppel, the embodiment of what people think their god Amaterasu is, minimizing agency for Iris. And once we have a chance to give Iris that agency, she’s stuffed in the fridge so that Ohkubo can give Shinra a motivation he already has and doesn’t need enhanced. We needed that moment of Iris, upon hearing she is just a doppel, reassert her own humanity, whether on her own, by her memories of what Shinra said, by what she imagines her sisters would say--or, as bad as it would be, having someone else give her the pep talk. But really, I wish it was Iris coming to this conclusion on her own, not needing Shinra to shout that she is valid regardless where she came from. (Then again, maybe Shinra shouting it would make their romantic relationship actually mean something instead of coming across as a last-minute reveal as part of the stupid harem plot.)

Amaterasu needed more development. Give me a story that shows her first reactions to Jonah trapping her. Give me a short story showing how her mind breaks. Give me her Dabi from My Hero Academia story, of someone whose fall into villainy is not entirely self-motivated but the desperate response of someone who can’t find another escape.

#patty thompson #mana hinoki #long post #b ichi

0 notes

qshara · 2 years

Text

What if I were in the Ikemen world (Part 2)

(Part 1)

Me: Can you repeat what did you lose?

Sirius: A shoe

Me: Bless you

Sirius:

Me:

Sirius: Are you serious?

Me: No, you are Siriu- AAAH, NOT WITH THE BROOM!

Me, with a shovel: Sariel! I need your help urgently!

Sariel: -sigh- Where is the body?

Me: What?! No! Why would I ask you for that kind of help?!

Sariel: You're with a shovel

Me: I WAS GARDENING WITH YVES! I need your help because he got trapped in a giant flower pot!

Sariel: So you left him...planted?

Me: You're going to come or- pfff.... listen, it was a good joke, but I really need your help to get Yves out

Me: So you're the smart guy around here?

Mitsuhide: Something like that, little one

Me: So... guess what number I'm thinking of!

Mitsuhide: 7

Me, actually thinking of 7: Wrong! I-I was thinking of... um... 9!

Me: Just the other day my friends asked me who is the most hot resident in the whole mansion. And what do you think I said?

Arthur, thinking she is talking about him: What did you say?

Me: Your dad

Comte, in the other room: The fuck?

Me: It was nice talking to you, but I have to go. Bye!

Jonah: See you- Uh?

Me: -lancelot cape action and leaves-

Jonah: ????????

Me, approaching Zero: And with that I conclude my course of three easy steps so Jonah likes you, looking like Lancelot

Chevalier: You use humor to deflect your trauma

Me: Awww, thanks-

Chevalier: That’s not a good thing

Me: All I'm hearing is that you think I'm funny

Me, entering the audience chamber: Hey guys

Warlords: -all are on their own and completely ignore her-

Me: Guys?

Warlords: -keep on doing their thing-

Me: SEX. Alright, now that I have your attention-

Arthur: Yesterday Theo panicked because he couldn't find you and had an ad published in the newspaper...

Me: No way...

Theo: I'm so sorry! I'll go ask them to remove it-

Me: I APPEAR ON THE COVER!

Arthur: She's taking it pretty well, considerating is a lost dog ad

Me: COMTE, I APPEARED ON THE COVER

318 notes · View notes

bluejayblueskies · 3 years

Note

Please say more abt how Martin fits the closed off trait I'm begging 👁👁

Okay, so I got a bit carried away with this and it got quite lengthy....

I've put a TLDR above the cut and the details, transcripts, and general discussion below the cut!

TLDR: Martin is at his core a closed-off character who keeps his vulnerable feelings hidden and close to his chest. He instead focuses on caring for others and considering their feelings above his own, particularly in the case of Jon, who he cares for (sometimes to the point of self-sacrifice) throughout the podcast. His arc with the Lonely in season four and his interactions with Jon in season five demonstrate this lack of emotional vulnerability, and it's really only during the moments he spends by himself that we get significant insight into Martin's emotional state and inner thoughts.

Martin, to me, is a character who is very used to hiding how he feels. He tends to care for others at the expense of himself, has low self-esteem, and has a predilection towards the Lonely, all of which go hand-in-hand with somebody who is very used to hiding their emotions--particularly the negative ones--because they either think they're not important or that they're inconvenient and inappropriate for the situation. On a textual level, that's probably due to growing up with a sick (and likely unsupportive) mother who he had to take care of, where there was 'no time' for his emotions to get in the way or for him to prioritize himself in any way, shape, or form.

Martin is self-destructive, dislikes moments of emotional vulnerability, and (I would argue) genuinely struggles when he doesn't have somebody else to prioritize over himself. (His mother at first, but as the series goes on, Jon settles comfortably into this role for him.) Additionally, the biggest way that we, the audience, know anything about Martin's emotional state is when he's alone and self-reflecting (such as in MAG 170 and 186 or when talking to the tapes) or when he's forced to talk about something vulnerable (such as when Jon confronted him about his CV).

We don't get much insight into Martin's character between seasons one and three (at least not as much as we get in four and five), but I find myself drawn to this bit in MAG 118, when Martin is talking to Elias:

MARTIN

So what? I don’t get to be angry? I don’t get to burn things? Just, just run around, making tea, while everyone else gets to actually have feelings?

I think two things are important to note here. The first is that Elias is surprised (or least intrigued) that Martin is acting in this way--specifically, acting on his emotions in such a dramatic way. (And given that Martin is doing this as a distraction, rather than actually acting out because of his own emotions, maybe he's right to be surprised.) The second is that this line very much implies that Martin doesn't talk about how he's feeling, not like 'everyone else' does. He doesn't talk about it, doesn't act on it--just 'runs around, making tea.' And when Melanie comes back in after Elias is done, Martin immediately focuses on the plan and whether it succeeded, ignoring Melanie when she asks if he's okay or not. He closes himself off, and as far as we know, doesn't talk about it at all after that.

And then Jon goes into his coma, and we reach season four.

Martin is incredibly closed-off during season four. He's self-isolating, self-sacrificial, and approaching a state of genuine emotional numbness by the time he's cast into the Lonely. There's a lot to unpack there, but I'm going to focus on a few main things, many of which can be drawn from this bit in MAG 158:

MARTIN

It’s not him! It’s not anybody. It’s just me. Always has been. I…

When I first came to you, I thought I had lost everything. Jon was dead, my mother was dead, the job I had put everything into trapped me into spreading evil and I… I really didn’t care what happened to me. I told myself I was trying to protect the others, but… honestly we didn’t even like each other. Maybe I just thought joining up with you would be a good way to get killed.

And then… Jon came back, and… and suddenly I had a reason I had to keep your attention on me. Make you feel in control so you didn’t take it out on him. And if that meant drifting further away, so what? I’d already grieved for him. And if it meant now saving him, it was worth it.

When you started talking about the Extinction, though… you had me actually, then, for a while. But then – (laughs sardonically) then, you tried to make me the hero. Tried to sell me on the idea that I was the only one who could stop it. And that I’ve never sat right with me. I mean, I mean, look – look at me, I’m not exactly a – a chosen one. But by then I was in too deep. So I played along. Waited to see what your end game was, and here we are.

Funny. Looks like I was right the first time. It’s probably still a good way to get killed?

This monologue is a big insight into Martin's thought process during this season, and I'm mostly going to focus on two parts: the self-sacrifice and the prioritization of Jon.

Self-sacrifice

There's quite a bit of discussion about Jon's self-sacrificial tendencies, but less so about Martin's, both in this season and in season five. In my opinion, Jon's self-sacrificial tendencies originate from (among other things) survivor's guilt from his traumatic childhood experience with Mr. Spider, his increasing belief that he's less than human, and the fact that he prioritizes the lives of others over his own. Martin's self-sacrificial tendencies, while very similar, come from the fact that he thinks he only has worth if he can help and care for someone else and the fact that he doesn't think he's important enough to live. (For example, he says in MAG 158 that he's 'not exactly a chosen one' and says in MAG 198 that he's 'not important enough to kill.')

It's a subtle difference between these two things, and I would argue that while Jon's tendencies are more rooted in the 'help' (ie, 'I want to help other people and I will sacrifice myself to do it'), Martin's tendencies are more rooted in the 'hurt' (ie, 'I will sacrifice myself and other people will be helped in the process'). There is, of course, overlap, and it's not a black-and-white distinction between the two, but ultimately, I think Martin is so used to prioritizing others' emotions and needs above his own that when he's left mostly alone as he is at the end of season three, with the only person left to hold onto being in a coma (possibly forever), he falls back into the same patterns of self-destruction and closed-offness, only without the 'help' to go along with the 'hurt' because there is nobody left to help (especially after his mother dies). Ultimately, he joins up with Peter because he thinks it 'would be a good way to get killed.'

Prioritization of Jon

But then Jon wakes up from his coma, and now Martin has justification for his self-sacrifice again, because he can protect Jon by continuing to work with Peter!

... Maybe.

Jon isn't harmed by Peter during season four, sure, but he does climb into the coffin and visits Ny-Ålesund and is tracked down by Julia and Trevor and struggles emotionally and morally with his own humanity and is hurt, in a way, by the distance Martin puts between them. And I hesitate to place blame for the apocalypse on anybody but Jonah, but if we're going to argue in-canon that Jon was responsible for the apocalypse (he wasn't, but that's not the point of this post), then Martin contributed to that blame and responsibility because it was his actions and decisions that ultimately drew Jon into the Lonely and resulted in him getting the 14th and final mark. (Again, I don't think Jon or Martin are at fault for the apocalypse, but if we were to blame Jon, we could blame Martin as well.) It was only after getting that mark that Jonah was able to use Jon to end the world, something that was hugely hurtful for Jon. So did Martin really protect Jon at all by staying away from him and continuing to work with Peter? Or was that just a convenient excuse to keep self-destructing?

Jon and Martin, in my opinion, had very similar arcs in season four. Martin was sinking further into the Lonely and Jon was sinking further into the Eye. We hear a lot more about Jon's emotional struggle with this given that he's the POV character, sure, but Jon also talks about this with other people. He talks about it to Helen (MAG 152):

JON

…

When does it stop?

HELEN

(impatient) What?

JON

The guilt. The misery. All the others I’ve met, they’ve been – cold, cruel. They’ve enjoyed what they do. When does the Eye (inhale) make me monstrous?

And to Daisy (MAG 136):

JON

My – (large sigh) My memories of the coma are not clear, but I know I made a choice; I made a choice to become… something else. Because I was afraid to die. But ever since then, I – I don’t know if I made the right decision; I’m stronger now, tougher, I can – (he cuts himself off) If I do die, now, or get sealed away somewhere forever? I don’t know if that’s a bad thing. And I don’t want to lose anyone else, so if I can maybe – stop that happening, and the only danger is to me, I – I’ll do it in a heartbeat; worst case scenario, the universe loses another monster.

But all we really get from Martin are the things he tells the tapes when he's alone and the monologue he gives in MAG 158. It makes sense that he wouldn't be as open, yes, given the nature of the Lonely, but I can't help but think of (MAG 154):

JON

The Lonely’s really got you, hasn’t it?

MARTIN

(no hesitation) You know, I think it always did.

Jon was always curious and hungry for knowledge; the Eye amplified it. Martin was always closed-off and isolated; the Lonely amplified that as well.

But then Jon pulls Martin out of the Lonely, they flee to the safehouse, and three weeks later, the apocalypse begins. Martin isn't as consumed by the Lonely as he was in season four, he's with Jon--the person he loves--for extended periods of time, and they're in an extremely stressful situation that's sure to be incredibly emotionally charged. There's a lot to be said about Jon's emotional vulnerability during season five and how Martin both pressures him for it and rejects it in different ways, but for the purposes of this post, I won't go too far into detail about the motivations behind how Jon is feeling and acting.

I will say, however, that in season five, Martin still continues to place a lot of focus on asking Jon how he's feeling, encouraging (or pressuring) him to share, and getting frustrated when Jon can't or doesn't (MAG 167):

MARTIN

Okay, so how exactly would you describe your current emotional state regarding all of this?

JON

I –

MARTIN

(overlapping) Go on, I’m all ears.

JON

I feel…

MARTIN

(go on) Mhm.

JON

(sigh) I feel… sad.

[Brief pause.] MARTIN

(flat) Sad.

JON

Very sad.

MARTIN

(*very* flat) Very sad.

[He sighs slightly as he says it. Their bags jangle.]

A few moments prior to this, Martin expresses displeasure that Jon is Knowing things about him, specifically pointing out his emotions (MAG 167):

MARTIN

It’s just – it’s weird knowing that you can know literally everything I think and feel. E-Especially since you’re not exactly the most open of people – emotionally, I mean.

I think Martin is making an effort to open up more to Jon. But I still think it's difficult for him to talk about how he feels so openly, and while he is completely in the right for not wanting Jon to Know things about him without his permission, I think it's interesting that the focus is on his feelings and that he brings up how Jon isn't emotionally open immediately after. It scares Martin to think that Jon could know, at any given moment, how he's feeling, and I think it's partially because he's not used to that level of vulnerability. He turns the focus on Jon, away from himself, and doesn't really make an effort to talk about how he's feeling about all of this, instead prioritizing Jon's feelings and mental state like he's grown comfortable with.

And when Martin bottles up his emotions--of which there are a lot, in such a stressful environment, they can explode out in hurtful ways:

MARTIN

(overlapping) I know! I know, okay, I just – (bracing exhale) Look, I j,just – don’t want to get burned, all right? It’s, it’s like my least favorite pain ever.

JON

Is that – a joke?

MARTIN

(a bit faster, a bit shaky) No, no, okay? I, I legitimately hate burns, alright? They’re, they’re awful, and they scar horribly, and they just – it – it just makes me sick; I, I hate it. Hate it!

I don't think Martin really thought about what he was saying when he told Jon, who has a large burn scar on his hand, that burn scars make him sick, and I don't think he meant it maliciously. But he'd spent the greater portion of the conversation talking around the fact that he didn't like burns and that was why he didn't want to go into the building, and so when it finally ended up coming out, it did so in an explosion of emotion rather than a conscious decision to share. Martin doesn't have a good handle on his emotions, and he doesn't have a good handle on sharing them.

(Is it too much for me to say that Martin was more emotionally vulnerable with himself in MAG 170 than he was with Jon when Jon finally found him?)

Throughout season five, Martin asks Jon questions, he expresses frustrations with Jon, he shows discomfort or fear at times, but for as much as Martin feels frustrated that Jon isn't talking about how he feels about their situation, Martin really isn't doing so either. The most he talks about his feelings is in MAG 170 and MAG 186, when he's by himself, and I remember MAG 186 in particular because before that, we really didn't know what Martin was thinking about for the majority of the season! And in this episode, we find out a lot of very important things about Martin's character. Like (MAG 186):

ALSO MARTIN

Look, I know what you know. Maybe I’m just a bit more… open about it.

Also-Martin acknowledges that Martin often doesn't say what he means and hides what he really feels, telling him that it's 'hard to be vulnerable,' and Martin is initially very resistant to the idea. And then, when Also-Martin suggests that Martin wants to stay so that he can be 'quietly sad,' we get (MAG 186):

MARTIN

We could talk to Jon about it.

ALSO MARTIN

We could. But we both know that loved ones make the worst therapists. They’re too wrapped up in trying to stop you hurting to actually help. But hey, we know all about that, am I right?

MARTIN

There’s nothing wrong with comforting people.

ALSO MARTIN

A cup of tea isn’t a resolution. At best it’s a… a plaster. At worst… a muzzle.

This is very interesting to me, because for all that Martin tries to help other people, he also believes that comfort doesn't always help and that you can't be your loved one's 'therapist.' I think this gives a lot of insight into why Martin doesn't share his emotions with the people he cares about, especially Jon; he doesn't want to put Jon in the position where he'll become his 'therapist,' and he doesn't necessarily think Jon can help. So instead, Martin just chooses not to be vulnerable at all, because he doesn't want to burden the people he cares about. But, when it's just him (MAG 186):

ALSO MARTIN

Don’t lie. You don’t need to. Not here. It’s just us.

He doesn't feel like he needs to pull his emotional punches. He can't accidentally hurt somebody or put them in an awkward position; it's just himself. But what's said to himself remains with himself, and (at least on tape), he doesn't discuss any of this with Jon. Not even the bit about, if it came down to it, Martin would have rather had Jon smite him than continue to rule over a domain. He goes right back to being closed-off around Jon, but now we, the audience, know what lies underneath, and how little of it reaches the surface.

In fact, the thing Martin's probably most vocal about is how Jon's feelings about himself bother him (MAG 199):

MARTIN

I guess that’s why it really bothers me, you know? I try, but I can’t actually imagine ever making a decision that I knew meant losing you.

And it… It hurts to know you can.

And I think he has a tendency to use anger and frustration to cover up hurt, shying away from the admission that something Jon's done has hurt him (an incredibly vulnerable thing) and instead relying on the less-vulnerable and more external anger to cover it. This is more speculation than true analysis, but I think that's a lot of what's happening in MAG 200, when he discovers that Jon has already assumed the position of the pupil and has, in Martin's eyes, broken his promise.

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #tma meta #jonathan sims #(because i do talk about jon a bit in this too)#i actually think martin isn't good with emotions at all #both his own and others'#i think he doesn't quite know what to do with them so he puts on a mask and defaults to things he knows will work #*thinks about the low empathy autistic martin high empathy autistic jon post with love in my heart*

546 notes · View notes

jonahlovescoffee · 3 years

Text

“look at me” | J.M.

a/n: ok guys i wrote smut in honor of the release of wdw’s new album that includes a smutty song D: so first i would like to clarify that i’m still a 15-year-old virgin so i have absolutely no idea in how sex goes and i don’t read a lot of smut in general so i apologize if any mistakes are made in my writing :) anyways happy reading!!!

summary: you and your boyfriend sneak off to have some fun. (this is probably the worst summary i’ve ever written)

warnings: oral, blood kink, dirty talk, making out, unprotected sex (but on a serious note, wrap it before u tap it guys!) so read at your own risk luvs <3

word count: 5022

“do what you want to me nobody gotta know”

You felt Jonah’s lingering stare on you all the way through dinner at his house. His alert eyes followed your every move and he didn’t even bother to be more discreet about it. He and his band had just returned from tour and usually, you both would spend the first few weeks constantly exploring each other’s bodies as you released all the lust that was bottled up inside you for far too long but this time was different. After your recent promotion in your department at work, your workload had gotten twice as heavier and you soon found yourself being too busy to indulge in any form of entertainment, including spending time with him in the bedroom as he desired. As expected, he was now extremely close to his breaking point and was perfectly capable of ruining you once both of you were alone.

Yet being the mischievous person you were, you decided to tease him a little and test his limits. With an innocent smile plastered on your face the whole time, you let out an exaggerated moan of pleasure when you tasted Christina’s cooking and pulled your bottom lip between your teeth on purpose for more times than you could count, not forgetting to make sure that he was at the perfect angle to see what you were doing.

He had his meal silently, not speaking unless he was spoken to and when he did, the evident strain in his voice did not go unnoticed by you, so did his clenched jaw and his knuckles that had gone slightly white from clutching onto the cutlery a little too hard. No one else noticed the sexual tension between you both despite it being so thick that one could cut it with a knife, which made this silent exchange between you and your boyfriend many times more exciting.

Once dinner was over and all the dirty dishes were taken to the kitchen, Jonah caught your wrist in a tight hold when you were about to enter the living room. “You’d better stop what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he warned once the others were out of earshot, already in front of the TV having an argument about which movie they should watch. “It isn’t funny at all.”

“I never said it was,” you gave him a toothy grin which agitated him more. You used your free hand to cup his cheek, tracing it softly with your thumb as he closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, exhaling a shallow breath. You stood up on your tiptoes and leaned your face closer to his, your lips barely inches apart. “You’re always so needy for me, love, I’m terribly flattered,” you said, your lips brushing his with every word. “And I want nothing more than for you to take me now,” you continued and you felt his entire body stiffen.

“However,” you let your hand trail down from his face, over his muscled torso, then allowed your fingers to play with the waistband of his black ripped jeans. His eyelids fluttered open as his breathing turned ragged for your fingers were so close—so dangerously close to his member that was growing harder and harder by the second. And you weren’t even doing anything. “I don’t want to do that with your friends around,” you gave him a quick kiss on the lips before pulling away and wiggling your wrist out of his grasp, leaving him wanting for more.

“You’re gonna be the death of me y/n,” he growled furiously at you, earning an extremely sweet smile from you.

“I know,” you chirped happily and proceeded to skip to the living room. “Oh and Jonah? Try to hide your excited buddy would ya’? He’s being too obvious,” you tisked with displeasure, gesturing to his southern region.

“I wonder why,” he muttered sarcastically to himself as he adjusted his pants to make the bulge in them less obvious as best as he could.

“Come on guys, the movie’s starting!” Corbyn hollered from where he sat on the couch with his girlfriend by his side, to which you replied with a simple “coming” before grabbing the bowl of popcorn off the coffee table and plopping down onto the other end of the couch.

“I’m here, I’m here, jeez,” Jonah hopped over the back of the couch and landed beside you shortly afterwards, the impact sending few popcorns flying out of the bowl. You shot a death glare at him as he rested his arms over your shoulders and opened his mouth, a silent request for you to pop a popcorn into his mouth (which you obliged), his eyes fixed on the wide tv screen, acting like you both didn’t have the conversation just seconds ago.

Because of how sexually frustrated you were, it was impossible for you to concentrate on the movie when his finger was idly tracing random patterns on your upper arm from where his hand rested, turning your mind into a fuzzy mess and blurring all your senses together until all you could focus on was his touch that had somehow travelled to your neck, stopping at the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“Wanna suck this part so bad,” His whispered into your ear, his warm breath making your skin tingle with pleasure as his finger circled the spot with his finger several times, causing your breathing to hitch, momentarily stunned by his words. Before you could say anything though, he pulled away completely with a chuckle, choosing to place his hand on your thigh instead.

This bastard. He knew the effect his simple gesture had on you and he was shamelessly wielding it to his power.

Without a word, you placed your left hand lightly on the front his black ripped jeans as you planted a kiss on his collarbone, frowning when he didn’t offer you any reaction at all, pretending to be too fixated with the movie to even notice what you were doing. Fine. Two can play this game.

You glided your hand ever so lightly like the soft caress of the cool night’s breeze over his crotch at first, subsequently picking up the pace and pressure as you went, palming him discreetly with your clueless friends sitting merely several feet away from you. Beneath your palm, you could feel his member pushing against the material of his jeans almost immediately as he emitted a soft groan from his lips.

“Fuck,” he breathed, tightening his grip on the back of the couch as he bit back another groan when your lips came into contact with his jaw and slowly made their way down his neck, leaving faint red marks on certain spots where you had nipped softly along the trail of kisses. “What are you doing?” He seethed through his gritted teeth, a sign that he was annoyed at you for driving him to the brink of losing every last bit of his self control but he made no move to stop your actions.

“What’s wrong with expressing my love for my boyfriend?” You teased which made his frown deepen, grabbing your moving hand in his, abruptly stopping your movements.

“Expressing your love, huh?” He grabbed your chin and forcefully tilted your face so you were looking at him straight in the eyes. Even through the darkness of the dimly lit living room, you could make out every defined details of his attractive face—his chiseled jawline, the perfect arc of his slightly furrowed brows, his elegantly straight nose and most importantly the flame of lust that was burning like wildfire in his eyes. “Why don’t we take this elsewhere if you really wanna do so, sweetheart?” He asked but his dark tone made it sound more like an order instead of a question, your previous playfulness dissipating instantly.

You wanted to retort, reminding him that you had told him that you weren’t inclined of doing that in the presence of his friends but you weren’t stupid. You knew very well that if you continued to push anymore buttons, he would not let you get away with it easily.

“Good,” he said and let his hand drop from your chin. “Let’s go then.”

Without a word, Jonah dragged you off by the hand towards his room, brushing off the prying questions from your friends with a simple “she’s not feeling well”. You didn’t say anything as you followed after his fast-paced footsteps, almost tripping over your own feet because of the giddy excitement that you felt at the moment.

He kicked the door shut behind him once both of you entered his room, his hands already all over you and your lips connected with each other’s in a heated kiss with his tongue in your mouth, exploring every corner of it, asserting utter dominance before you had a chance to react, making you gasp and habitually let your hands drift to the front of his lavender hoodie to pull him closer as you tilted your head so that he could kiss you deeper. He blindly spun you both around so your back collided against the door and pinned you against it before breaking the kiss, biting your bottom lip slightly as he pulled away to your dismay. You wanted to taste more of him so you tried to tug him down once more to collide his lips with yours but he stopped your actions with a low growl.

“What do you want from me, sweetheart? Teasing me all day like that,” he asked sternly, staring down at your petite figure that was trapped between his arms. Under his intense gaze of his once vibrant hazel eyes that were now nearly consumed by the black of his dilated pupils, your brain shut down all of a sudden, subsequently taking away your ability to form words in your head, let alone speak. He inched closer until your breath mingled with each other’s. “Fine, since you’re not going to speak, we’ll do this my way then,” he finally said when you remained speechless. You felt a tingling feeling between your thighs at the anticipation of what he had in store for you.

“Get on your knees, now,” he ordered and you obliged right away without a second thought. You didn’t need any further instructions to know what he wanted you to do next for his intentions were already clearly written on his face. In a blink of an eye, you already had his belt undone and his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped, shuffling them down his legs along with his boxers, just low enough to reveal his considerable length standing proud and tall in its full glory. The sight of it never failed to make your eyes go wide in amazement and your mouth go dry no matter how many times you had seen it. “You want to express your love, babygirl, now’s your time to do it. Go on,” he urged, making you groan softly at his forwardness. “Show me how much you fucking love me.”

You did not wait another second to wrap your hands snugly around his member to give him several good long strokes before taking it in your awaiting opened mouth, flicking your tongue just over his sensitive head and sucking it a little to taste some of the salty precum. He let out a soft groan, one hand still keeping a firm grip on the counter as the other pulled your long hair back to give you more room. You proceeded to leave open-mouthed kisses down his length, your warm exhales across his aching dick teasingly torturous, not forgetting to lower your head to lick his balls before moving your mouth back up his length again. You felt his hand on your hair tighten as you purposely took your sweet time of savouring every inch of him ever so slowly instead of going hard and fast just like he wanted.

“Tease me more, baby, and you will regret it later,” he said with all seriousness and you knew that he wasn’t joking. You spit on the tip a little before fitting him into your mouth once again, then sliding down while your hands were kept snug around the base of him to help jerk off the rest of him that couldn’t fit in your mouth. You gradually picked up speed, your hands meeting your lips in steady movements as you started to bob your head quicker up and down his shaft, his breathing turning rhythmic and heavy, small moans let out with every exhale as you worked him.

Jonah was in pure ecstasy as he watched you take his dick so well on your knees, saliva dribbling down your chin as you licked and swirled your tongue over all the right spots, earning involuntary groans after groans of pleasure and making him instinctively push his hips forward into your mouth, consequently making you gag lightly as you neared your limit.

“Fuck, baby, that’s it, you’re doing so good,” he managed to say between ragged breaths, “but is that all you’ve got?” His grip tightened on your hair immediately and before you knew it he was pushing you back down quickly and then tugging at your hair to pull you off over and over again just as you were about to pull back to breathe. Your hand fell from the base to the back of his thigh to keep yourself steady as he thrusted into your mouth nonstop, focussing on keeping your jaw lax despite the protests of your gagging reflexes.

“Deeper,” he instructed strongly as you gagged, your tongue pulling back last. Tears stared to prickle at the edges of your eyes and you glanced up at him, subtly shaking your head to tell him that you couldn’t go any further but he wasn’t taking “no” for an answer. He had spent more than enough time in the bedroom with you to know your body better than you do and he was sure that you hadn’t reached your limit yet despite your denial to his request.

“Come on, I know you can do this, sweetheart,” he drawled, your hesitation had his hand pushing your mouth down his length by your hair until it reached the very back of your throat as your nose touched his stomach, making you wince at the discomfort. Yet you continued to bob your head, taking almost his entire length in your mouth. You pulled back a little and brought your hand back to the base to give him quick hard tugs as your tongue glided across his tip until he was biting down on his bottom lip with his eyes close as you felt him twitch inside your mouth, almost reaching his high. His erotic groan that followed sent heat pooling at your core and was starting to ache for touch.

So you silently slid a hand into your panties, your dress making it terribly easy to access the sensitive part between your thighs and you soon enough found yourself touching yourself while your other hand continued to jerk him off in your fist. You fully removed your mouth from around his tip to give him kitten licks, also partly because you found it incredibly hard for your moans to escape with his member in your mouth without gagging.

Your discreet movements did not go unnoticed by him and he pulled you up by the collar of your button-up dress all of a sudden, taking you by surprise. His other hand moved to pull up his jeans and boxers. “I didn’t say you could touch yourself, did I?” Jonah growled in your face when you reached his eye level. “Such a desperate little whore,” he tisked disapprovingly while shaking his head at you. His tone was condescending, as you were some sort of trash that was greatly frowned upon by everyone. “Fucking answer me when I’m talking to you.”

“I just want to relief the ache,” you whined as he dragged you towards the bed forcefully, taking you by surprise, causing you to stumble over your own two feet and crash into him when he suddenly stopped walking and turned around to face you. “I want you to make me feel good, please,” you begged him with pleading eyes but it was no use.

“Naughty little girls like you don’t deserve to get want they want, do they?” He asked and you nodded in response, earning a warning snarl from him. “Don’t you understand what I say, slut? I said open your filthy mouth and use your fucking words.”

“Yes, Jonah.”

“So prove to me why I should forgive you.”

“Gladly,” sike.

You placed your hands on his chest and leaned your entire weight onto him, making both of you fall backwards against the floor, before you were taking off his hoodie. Your hands were already roaming his muscled torso while your lips connected to his neck, giving him sloppy kisses all over his neck, sucking and nipping just enough to leave faint marks that were barely considered as hickeys at all the wrong places, having engraved the exact places of all his sweet spots in your mind but avoiding them all on purpose just to spite him and forcing him to give you what you wanted.

You knew that if you had complied to his wishes, it would do you no good at all. It would’ve taken you longer to get what you wanted and you didn’t have the patience to wait. Just like how he knew dirty talk was capable of driving you insane, you also knew that your disobedience would make his mind go completely haywire, especially when you were doing everything wrongly.

That’s why you were honestly surprised when he actually waited a full moment until you started kissing down his chest before grabbing your shoulders to flip you over so he was hovering over you.

“You just can’t stop being a shitty brat, can you?” He licked his lips quickly before attaching them to your neck, right at the spot where he traced with his fingers earlier, and sucked hard, making you moan and cling onto him tightly with your hands tugging on his soft brown hair, keeping him close as he repeated the same actions on different spots, turning you into a moaning mess. “This is how you pleasure someone,” he demonstrated by ripping your dress apart and unhooking your bra in one swift motion before he started to massage your breast as his lips worked wonders on your neck, fully hoisting himself up with only one hand. You instinctively grinded against him, the soaked thin fabric of your panties and his jeans being the only barriers separating his length from your entrance.

“But this is how you mark someone up,” without a warning, he sank his teeth deep into the flesh near your collarbone, hard enough to draw blood, forcing a gasp out of you due to the pleasurable pain that shot through your entire body at the mere action. He wasn’t even nipping anymore — he was biting you, exactly like how a vampire would bite its prey before sucking the life out of it. He sank his teeth deeper causing more blood to ooze out of your body, which he, in turn, sucked and swallowed every single drop of it. With a final swirl of his tongue around the prominent bite mark, he pulled away far enough for his entire face to be in your field of vision, his teasing grin showing off all his teeth that was stained in red with some of your blood.

You pressed your thighs against each other in hopes of generate some kind, any kind of friction to soothe your aching core that was pulsing so furiously as soon as you beheld his sharp canines that was stained the reddest.

And he slowly let his tongue glide over all his teeth, wiping them clean as you watched intently, mumbling a soft “fuck” while staring wide-eyed at him in disbelief.

He moved the hand from your breast to the sensitive area between your legs and dragged his fingers over your entrance, to find you completely drenched with arousal.

“Never expected you to have a blood kink,” he smirked with satisfaction at his discovery, “but I guess you do now, huh?” He ripped your panties off without a second thought like it was the most natural thing to do in the world.

“Jonah, what—”

“Your flimsy little underthings always get in the way of things,” he cut you off mid-sentence before you could protest further.

“But—Fuck,” words failed you when he started to rub painfully slow circles around your fluttering core with his thumb while he dragged his middle finger up and down your slick folds, teasing at your entrance. You rock against his hand to get that friction you craved yet he kept the moving pace of his hand so damn slowly that whimpers fell from your lips, much to his delight.

“For someone who was reluctant to fuck with my friends around, you sure are goddamn needy for me right now,” He attached his lips to yours once again to drown out your noise, your lips moving in perfect sync with each other’s as he licked his way into your mouth. A wave of warmth washed over you as your tongues entwined, making your toes curl, unfurling all your senses as the taste of his lips and his touch silenced all thoughts.

Except one.

“It’s no fair that you still get to keep your pants on when I’m already naked,” you said, breathless once you detached your lips from his after the heated kiss, placing your hands on his toned chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest, his hot exhales fanning your face. He let out a light laugh but it sounded far from amused.

“When can you learn how to fucking behave, baby?” He lowered onto you, his lips falling to meet the bite mark he left on your skin, kissing it softly once. Then twice. “Or do you need me to remind you who you belong to?”

You didn’t expect him to choose that moment to slip a finger inside you without any warning, pumping it in and out of you as his thumb continued to rub your bundle of nerves. You slid your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible to you. Pitchy moans escaped you, ringing across the room as he gradually picked up speed.

“I said we’re doing this my way, understood?” He asked sternly, which you replied with a breathy “yes”.

“And I can do whatever the fuck I want, no questions asked,” he added another finger into you, making you arch your back towards him, your mouth hanging open in bliss as your moaning continued. He drank in the wonderful sight of your body reacting so beautifully to his actions. “Got it?”

“Yes...yes, Jonah,” you could barely get the words out of your mouth when his fingers sped up and you habitually spread your legs open wider, your eyes shut as his fingers worked their magic. Your eyes were screwed shut as your brows furrowed, concentrating on the immense pleasure that consumed you at that moment, your mind barely able to function at all. Sooner than you expected, your legs started to tremble with desire for release. “Jonah, I’m close, I’m really really close,” you whispered shakily and he exerted more pleasure on your clit.

But just as you were about to finally reach your high, he pulled his fingers out of you rapidly, leaving you empty and begging desperately for him to put them back inside you.

“Should’ve thought about this when you disobeyed me so many times today, sweetheart,” he said with an evil grin, “and bad girls don’t get to cum.”

“Nor do they get to pick the positions too but,” he sat back and looped one arm around your knees and another around your shoulders to pick you off the ground before laying you on his plush, comfortable white bed that felt like heaven in contrast to the cold hard ground you were laying on just now. “I’m going to let the latter slide this once.”

“So tell me what you want to do, baby, the choice is all yours,” he nibbled your earlobe from where he laid beside you, his arms tucked securely around your waist, keeping your body pressed flush against him. You could feel the tent in his pants that was pressing against your backside and the words left your mouth before you yourself could even process them properly.

“I want to ride you.”

He untangled his arms from around your waist and sat up so he was leaning against the headboard. “Show me what you’ve got, love,” he said, nodding his head at you, urging you to do whatever you wanted.

You quickly slid down his jeans and boxers to let his now completely hard and throbbing cock free, already. With his hands tucked behind his head, he licked his lips as he watched you pumped his member a few times before positioning yourself over him and lining yourself up. You gripped his shoulders again, looking back up into to meet his lust-ridden gaze before leaning in to give him a light kiss, which he instantly responded back with more passion. You pulled back to make sure you were lined up before you slowly sank down on to him, making both of you let out a few curses when you were fully down to his base.

“You’re so fucking tight,” He groaned as you waited until you adjusted to his size, leaning your head against his shoulder for comfort.

You slowly lifted yourself up, almost pulling away from his dick completely before you let yourself sink back down, clenching around him again as his fingernails dug into the side of your hips. You started to pick up pace, switching between grinding and moving up and down on him, his grunts encouraging you even more. “Jonah....fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you shrieked, a string of obscene profanities that you never knew that you knew proceeded to escape your mouth as you bottomed out each and every time, slamming yourself right down onto the hilt.

“You like my dick buried in your tight little hole huh? My dirty fucking girl,” He asked, watching intently as your breasts bounced with each movement, your head thrown back in pleasure as you let soft moans escape, a sight he thought was both hot and beautiful at the same time. He moved his hands back up to your waist, keeping you steady as you continued to grind and moan against him.

“Yes, oh fuck, yes, Jonah, I love it so damn much,” you managed to reply before your lips were captured in a passionate kiss with his once again, one of his hands cradling your face as you continued to ride him quicker, shifting your position a little to find a better angle so that he could hit deeper. When you finally succeeded in finding it, you held on tighter onto him, clinging to whatever that could keep you grounded to this world as you felt like you were falling off the edge of it when he sped up some more. You soon felt your insides clench around him. “Jonah I think—” you were cut short by a gasp of your own when his other hand collided with your butt, the sharp sound echoing throughout the room.

“No,” he said through the kiss without any hesitation. “You can only cum when I say so, dear,” he bit your bottom lip tauntingly and you heard the silent challenge for you to fight back against his orders as clear as day.

So you slowed down your pace, trying your very best to restrict yourself from cumming all over his dick. And he didn’t like what you were doing. “Did i say you could slow down?”

“No, but at this rate I—”

“You shitty brat never run out of excuses,” he growled before gripping your shoulders to flip you over so you were laying on your back on the bed.

“Guess I’ll have to take matters into my own hands,” he said as he pounded mercilessly into you, your eyes screwed shut and your brows furrowed as you concentrated on holding your cum in. The bliss you felt at the moment was so immense that you couldn’t help but shriek his name over and over again although the effort of not approaching your high was painful at the same time.

By the time you had become aware of your hands, they were already dragging down his back, your nails piercing his skin, drawing pretty red lines along his back. “Tell me whose cunt is this, baby,” he was hitting your g-spot now and your hand moved to grip the sheets.

Prick.

“Fucking look at me when I’m talking,” he ordered sternly and of course, your eyelids flew open immediately at his words.

“Yours, all fucking yours, Jonah.”

“Good. Now, do you wanna cum now, babygirl?” He asked, picking up his pace as he chased after his own high as well.

“Yes, please please please,” you whimpered, tears already welling up in your eyes.

“Yeah, cum all over me now, baby,” he pressed a soft kiss on your lips as white ribbons of pleasure poured out of you almost immediately, just as his warm liquid was released inside you and you moaned as it filled up your insides.

“I love you,” he said when he pulled out of you and laid down beside you, leaving you empty and sore as heck.

“Love you more,” you replied, kissing the tip of his nose. “But you were too harsh on me just now,” you pouted and he smiled.

“I thought you love me putting you in your place,” he teased and you hit his arm playfully. “You gotta admit, you were turned on by my actions.”

“Shut up,” you said and he leaned in once more to kiss your pout away.

#corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #wdw #why dont we #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #wdw smut #jonah marais smut

166 notes · View notes

darlingkay · 2 years

Text

ikemen opinions 6/?

helloooo it’s me back with another review lol this is taking up all my time and i’m not mad about it. it’s for myself more than anything because i don’t have anyone to talk about these games with and if any of you enjoy my posts along the way then it’s even more worth it :)) today is about one of my favorite tsunderes, yves kloss heh. he was the first prince i chose in ikepri. of course, spoilers are cut below the line !!1!1!!

*disclaimer* : please keep in mind that these are my personal opinions which will of course differ from others!! i’d also like to disclose that i do in fact pay to play, but i only pay for that i deem worth it. i don’t spend money on events or for chapter tickets.

character: yves kloss (ikemen prince)

route: dramatic

rating: .8/10

overall thoughts: yes i love this sweet catboy with all my heart. yves is a sweet man who just wants love and acceptance. a lot of his route made my heart so sad for him but his growth is so beautiful and the photos for his two endings are stunning honest to god.

highlights:

yves route has such a good ass storyline in my opinion. the dilemma of his lineage is so interesting and i just love how belle helps him overcome that curse and find acceptance of his lineage within himself. even though the crude treatment that yves got for being half obsidianite made my heart hurt for him, it was still worth it.

i love that it’s canon that yves just has the worst luck ever like why did they make my boy slip on that banana peel like that omg. and that it happens frequently????? ?who is setting up these banana peel traps for my baby??? probably clavis tbh

ok i love that they literally set up the whole fucking route with “well if we fall in love with each other then you can have me and my heart for all time” like what the fuck that’s so cute. kinda like when people promise to marry each other at 30 as a joke and then they do like it’s literally just the same vibe

ONE BED TROPE! ONE BED TROPE! ONE BED TROPE!

i fucking loved the one bed trope here, it was so much better than fenrir’s in ikerev (i’m not sorry). it’s setup kinda weird like they didn’t really know how to make it happen but the actual scenes with them in the bed together is just so cute. i think that what i love is that it just made yves realize that maybe he was in love and that this sweet boy didn’t know how to process the idea of being in love and the “i don’t like you at all!!” was just so funny and very yves because he gets flustered so quickly and easily.

nokto calling him evie.

i love that even though his heritage makes his life so hard and lonely, he still tries to overcome it on his own prior to belle, like wearing the gemstones of both nations in his earring. the earring is hot asf by the way.

i read somewhere on tumblr where someone said that yves and jonah clemence are definitely related across the ikemen universe and after this route it’s sooooo true. props to you person that i don’t know!

yves brothers do love him a lot he’s just easy to fluster which is precious :’)

dislikes:

just to preface, i don’t have many complaints here. overall i really liked a lot about this play though, it was so good. so none of these are really dislikes, just kinda general comments but like they aren’t highlights so they’re written here.

i think that this route was really well written but i wish there was just a litttle more interaction with the other princes like yes we see that yves dotes on licht much to his dismay and that lict really does care a lot about yves but i just think that there could have been a little more of a dusplay of dynamic here. i wish yves was closer with more of his brothers but i think that’s just because i know how alone he felt and it makes my heart so sad for him :(((

should’ve been more banana peel slips just saying.

i didn’t love the solution for king that is used i this route. i’m not sure who it would or should have been but it was just weird to me that belle didn’t have to choose even though sariel is so strict in his ways and the time limit was passed up. and it was clear that yves wasn’t actually fit to be king (a leader of course but not king in my opinion) so it’s not like this was the solution for avoiding clause 99. i don’t know i just think there should have been a real pick for king rather than “all the princes should work together until i pick!!!” idk seemed lazy.

HOWEVER, it kinda makes sense that belle doesn’t choose a king in this route because she honestly kinda spends so little time with any of the other princes. like this route is VERY centered around yves (i mean duh, emmie!!) but i mean like a lot. like a lot of routes have a lot of interaction and dynamic with other suitors that actually really adds to the story and the fun (i.e. kenshin, sasuke, shingen and yukimura in ikesen), but in this play through i feel like there's a lot less compared to my example. im okay with it though because it’s well written and so important for us to understand yves on that level. plus the interactions we get are good.

favorite memory: so i’m much more into yve’ more sweet and loving memories, because a lot of his are sad and like cybird went hard fucking core in the sadness in yves’ life because mans really had me on the verge of tears sometimes. i’m off topic lol, anyways i’d say my favorite memory with yves was probably the beautiful one bed trope because i’m always a hoe for a one bed trope. especially because i think it’s so cute how he realizes he’s in love with belle and gets all flustered in typical yves fashion and screams “i don’t like you!!” because idk it just funny and so cute. i am quite the yves enthusiast.

to compare routes is kinda hard, i was super invested in yves the whole time, while with chevalier i was so frustrated at how slow the burn was. however. i felt like chev’s ending was, much more fulfilling for this same reason so it’s just a lot of personal preference. i remain a chevalier stan 4 lyfe babes.

#ikemen prince #ikepri #ikemen prince yves #yves kloss #cybird #otome #otome game #otome games #anime #anime boys

17 notes · View notes

suttttton · 2 years

Note

Wip ask: tell me about Little Black Bird 2 and Jon + Basira

Little Black Bird 2 is a sequel/alternate ending to my fic Little Black Bird, in which jon and martin meet witch!Georgie and bluebird!Melanie and there are,,, a few misunderstandings

When they get back to their room, Jon locks the door behind them. As if that will stop her. This is her house, she definitely has a key. Jon feels nearly faint with fear, with hopelessness. Tears start to prick in his eyes, and he wishes desperately for the safety of just a few days ago, curled in the warmth of Martin’s fur. Before the trap, which Jon should have seen, and the blood, and the cold, and the fucking magic. He holds to his calm with a white-knuckled grip. There's a dresser in the room, and Jon goes to it, straining to push it in front of the door. A nice, solid barrier between them and her. “Jon, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Martin says from his spot on the bed. But Martin doesn’t understand, he doesn’t understand that this is a trap, too, just as deadly as the metal jaws that had savaged Martin’s leg. Jon knows what witches do to humans. Simon Fairchild had told him once, at one of those dinners that Jonah hosted occasionally for his friends. They were horrible tales, rife with cannibalism and butchery and bloodshed. Jon had terrible nightmares for weeks afterwords that left him trembling and exhausted, until Jonah found and removed the curse that Simon had spiraled into Jon’s head during the conversation. Simon Fairchild was a liar, but Jon had looked it up afterwards, and all of Jonah books confirmed what Simon had said. Witches lured people in with friendly hospitality, and then— Broth made from boiled bones. Inkpots filled with fresh-spilled blood. Hearts and brains preserved in jars, and eyeballs squished between gnashing teeth. She wouldn’t eat Jon, though. Witches have other uses for little birds, obviously. Sweet little dead-eyed familiars that say, “Don’t be afraid! You can trust her!” She could mold him into whatever shape she wanted. Without Martin, it wouldn’t even be difficult

Jon + Basira is a fake dating au based on my desire for lighthearted jon & basira content (because i think their dynamic is rife with comedic potential and very few people recognize it!). it's also a "jon and basira were in a band together in uni" fic because i think that's funny

“I’ve been telling everyone you’re my boyfriend,” Basira says. Jon stares at her. “What?” He blinks a few times. She’s still just staring into her soup. “Basira? Who have you been telling that?” “Just about everyone,” Basira says. “Family, friends, coworkers. You know.” Jon feels very, very lost. “Why? That doesn’t—How—You haven’t seen me for years!” “That’s kind of why I picked you,” Basira says. “It isn’t implausible that we would have reconnected after Uni, and everyone who’s met you knows that you avoid social situations, so they don’t really think it’s weird that you never come out with me.” “How long—?” “About a year." “And no one thinks it’s weird that I’ve never been seen with you?” Basira shrugs. “I’m not pretending you’re a good boyfriend.”

#both of these have been in my drafts for a Good Long While so who knows if/when they will actually be completed but #oh well #ask games

6 notes · View notes

hermit-seeking-hermit · 3 years

Text

The Web’s Motives

Ever since Annabelle revealed the the Web’s plan, I’ve seen a bunch of people talk about the ridiculousness of causing the apocalypse to escape the apocalypse. While it is quite funny, I think that’s missing the larger point. Jonah also justifies ending the world because someone else would have eventually done so. Of course we know that he really just wants immortality and power (and it’s clear he doesn’t consider that reason important) but why can’t that also be true for the Mother of Puppets (also fun parallel that I’m not gonna get into here)?

The Web operates on a level that’s incomprehensible to humans but seems to have only one goal--to feed. This is true for the rest of the fears but it’s particularly defined by a desire to expand and consume. So many of the statements focus not only simple manipulation but grooming their victims and transforming them into something else. The boundary between victim and avatar is thin for all the fears but is essentially non-existent for the web. It lures and traps to support itself and grow larger and larger. After all “Mr. Spider wants more“. What’s more fitting than using the victims of your old world to help your spiders scurry into the new ones. Even if there wasn’t an apocalypse the End would come for the fears anyway. By opening the door (which may not have been possible before now) the entities will be able to spread and feed off terror indefinitely.

#i also suspect that this isn't the first time #tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma meta #tma speculation #the web

31 notes · View notes

arce-elliot · 3 years

Text

Magnus Archives - First Impressions (126-150)

Season 4 is a doozy, but we’re gonna make it through I swear. As usual, as an intro, I had about 75% of the show already spoiled for me and now I’m getting through it and recording my initial comments. Here we gooooo

EP 126 (Sculptor's Tool): - good lord lady leave Gabriel alone he's just trying to learn - ah yes Sannikov Land, my favorite amusement park, I hear their rollercoasters are killer - it's nice that Martin has a pet, even if it is just a tape recorder - hey Peter kick rocks EP 127 (Remains to be Seen): - Ah yes, another letter to Jimmy Magnet - "I want that tree obliterated" - alkjflaskdf this poor random man - Basira's trying that's something - EXCUSE YOU RAT MAN - basIRA TF U DOIN EP 128 (Heavy Goods): - JON LEVELLED UP NICE - and so ends the story of our little cockney couriers :C EP 129 (Submerged) - God can Martin and Jon please be friends again I'm suffering - as someone who lives in a hurricane area this is funny EP 130 (Meat): - wonder what entity this episode's about - AYYYY GERTRUDE - meat pit meat piet meat pit - lmao as much as I rag on Gertrude she's great EP 131 (Flesh): - Jon just casually chopping his fingers off, what an opening - "Melanie I'm trying to chop off my fingers get out of my room" - "I need the Boneturner" "Well guess what buddy it's your lucky day" - "is it gonna hurt" IT'S YOUR RIBS, YOU STUPID MAN, OF COURSE IT'S GONNA HURT EP 132 (Entombed): - COFFIN TIME MOTHERFUCKERS - "i think i'm stuck" just keep digging, just keep digging, just keep digging digging digging - guess y'all are just gonna be roommates now - thank GOD now someone get them some damn water EP 133 (Dead Horse): - father son camping we love to see it - okay but "Everchase" sounds badass - can everyone get along for FIVE MINUTES EP 134 (Time of Revelation): - O O F MARTIN'S INTRO HURT ME PHYSICALLY - oh hey Adelard what's good - New Fear Unlocked! - damn that's a lot of bodies - I'm super interested in this fear study we're getting into - Martin yelling at a full ass avatar is hilarious - OH WAIT MARTIN LEFT THE RECORDERS AWWWWW EP 135 (Dark Matter): - time to go back to spaaaaace - that's an old ass tree - YOOOO THEY JUST TRAPPED SOME RANDOM DUDE ON THIS R O C K E T??????? THAT'S FUCKED OH MY GOOOOOD - Elias is such a s h i t EP 136 (The Puppeteer): - why are we all babysitting daisy she's grown - LMAO JON QUIT COMPELLING EVERYONE - spiiiiider tiiiiiime - jon and daisy being buddies now is actually v nice EP 137 (Nemesis): - OH is this the statement that Gertrude had sent over? Did she record it and just never send it back? - MURDER SHIP MURDER SHIP - nice try Slaughter better luck nex- well just nice try I guess - I mean hey Gertrude was right I guess - they DID have to blow up the Unknowing from the inside - also awwww Gertrude's attached to the lil emo man - ERIC DELANO MENTION I know we're approaching that episode and I am not ready actually EP 138 (The Architecture of Fear): - FINALLY THIS MOTHERFUCKER - lmao what a sad old man, him and leitner would be friends - damn I sure hope Jonah doesn't become an avatar of the eye, that would surely suck EP 139 (Chosen): - AYYYY AGNES! - DIY messiah - I feel so bad for Agnes - Jon is so upset about Martin :C EP 140 (The Movement of the Heavens): - "some weird monster disease" - comet boy's a zombie now, nice - YES THE RIB SCENE - Basira and Jon are gonna kill Santa EP 141 (Doomed Voyage): - oh this is a good title seeing as we were JUST planning to go somewhere - LMAO POOR BASIRA - Jon: my tape recorder senses are tingling - OH SPIRAL? - GOOD POINT JONATHAN!!!! Like I love Basira but he's right, they all can't keep wanting him to use his powers and then also being mad at him for not being human - In the same vein they can't keep praising Gertrude and then getting mad when he acts like her EP 142 (Scrutiny): - "I need to speak to a manager" - Martin: I've decided I am the manager now - "he look like shit? ah that's Jonathan" - awww this poor lady - "no one talks to me anymore" Martin that's not fair you're literally avoiding everyone EP 143 (Heart of Darkness): - there's seeing and then there's Seeing - "eye's peeled" LMAO - ayyyy astrophysics lady - jonny boy please stop trying to look at entity shit it hurts ur eyeballs - AYYY HELEN HOW ARE YOU - helen's just like "did you have fun with your playdate? okay go get your sister and get in the car, I'm making pot roast for dinner" EP 144 (Decrypted): - AYYY NUMBER STATIONS - I diagnose you with doom - Martin stop being a shit EP 145 (Infectious Doubts): - GERTRUDE IS INCREDIBLE AHHH - Gertrude: Banishment ritual complete Mother of Puppets: What was that? Gertrude: Banishment ritual? Mother of Puppets: Say it again, slow, just the first word Gertrude: ...Banishment- Mother of Puppets, binding her to Agnes: Wrong EP 146 (Threshold): - Door Time Door Time - OH IT'S THIS KID - okay funny haha aside I'm trying to be forgiving here but everyone constantly ragging on Jon and making excuses for everyone else is gross EP 147 (Weaver): - I SAID TO LEAVE THIS DUMP ALONE - hehe nice Daisy - stop wanting Jon to use his power and then get mad when it drains him for the love of GOD make up your MINDS - Annabelle is terrifying bye EP 148 (Extended Surveillance): - okay Basira is on my nerves rn but this is pretty great get his ass - god I can't believe I'm saying this but I miss Elias, Ben Meredith is a treasure - god I know why people say to take this season slowly it drains you - AUTO-CANNIBALISM, AMAZING EP 149 (Concrete Jungle): - love Professor Mansplain - okay to be fair if I saw a little stone snake I would also pick it up - I'm starting to feel like Martin like "OKAY PETER I GET IT THE EXTINCTION IS REAL" - "maybe he just needs some help" THEN WHY DON'T YOU HELP HIM, MARTIN?? - lmao martin can go ghost now EP 150 (Cul-De-Sac): - "life is hard" me too Herman me too - the MOOSE - i miss when Jon and Melanie would actually get along sometimes rip

#magnus archives #tma

11 notes · View notes

jonah-aesthetic · 3 years

Text

That One Pt. 2 I Jonah Marais

Jonah Marais X Reader / Ivette X Daniel Seavey

Plot: After Jonah Takes Y/n to his favourite ice cream parlour and takes care of her. She’s conflicted on her feelings for him, is he who everyone thinks he is? Or is he hiding himself from the world?

Word Count: 5K+

Author’s Note: More POC characters and pictured links. Sawyer may or may not be in this one. I feel like this part wasn’t good, but enjoy. Not edited.

Rating: 16+

Part 1

________________

Mentally preparing yourself for the aimless flirting you let a sigh leave your lips.Turing toward him, your breath hitched as you looked up into his green. predatory smirk etched into his pink lips, you wanted them on yours. Nope you mentally hissed at yourself, you didn’t you couldn’t. That’s what you told yourself because you did want him. every inch of him tangled within you. But you couldn’t give him that satisfaction, so you bite at his ego every chance you got. Jonah was after you, everywhere you seemed to go he fell into your path.

“Babe? Really?” Glaring him town, didn’t seem to work since he held a few inches from you.

“You love it, now lets get you home.” His hand is gentle resting between your shoulder blades. Beginning to guide you to the door, swerving you through the crowd making sure no one bumped into you. “What if I don’t want to leave?” The alcohol in your veins doing the talking for you.

“I didn’t think you did, Ivette has Daniel.” Jonah states still walking you do the door. You sighed in response, he was right you didn’t want to stay here if it wasn’t with Ivette. And frankly you didn't mind leave especially with your aching feet still in those heels.

“Leaving so soon?” Julie’s sickly sweet voice was recognisable anywhere. You immediate turned at the first word, Jonah in tow following your every move like it was his job.

Julie wasn’t alone, two others flanked her side. You met them before at brunch a few weeks ago. Rachel on her right, gleaming with her beautiful Korean features. Savannah on her left, beaming with her fiery red hair.

Julie had on the exact replica of your dress, but hers was a crisp white. Gorgeous contrast against her mahogany skin, “Yeah I’m not feeling it, Jonah is giving me a ride home.” Your tone innocent as you smiled at them. He leaned into your side at the mention of his name, His arm now snaking around your waist in a protecting manner. Shuddering you felt the need to push him away, but not in the presence of her.

“So the rumours are true, you two are together?” The prodding question came from Rachel. Watching the way Jonah clung onto you, maybe it was an excuse to hold you and maybe it wasn't.

“I would of never pegged you two together.” Savannah chokes on a laugh. Where was Ivette when you needed her?

“It’s the unlikely to fall in love. Isn't it?” Jonah asks, almost making your eye balls pop out of their sockets. Yet you still held eye contact with Julie hoping she didn’t see the way you just slipped up.

“Yes I guess it is.” Julie stares you down, trying to uncover the lie wrapping in the truth. Rachel and Savannah sharing curious glances, shit.

“Have a good night Julie, I know I sure will.” You mange to get out, blaming it on the liquor still hanging in. Surprised etched into their features watching the way Jonah guided you for the door again.

“Glad to see that your chicken pox cleared nicely!” Julie hollered from behind both of you, halting in your tracks, Jonah walked right into you.

“They did, thanks.” You choked on the words in your throat, not sure on how to reply to her.

Jonah helped you into the passenger’s seat of his Jeep. Thanking him you slid into the leather seat and rested your back against it. He shut the Jeep door, eyes connecting with his for a brief moment before he jogged to the drivers side. Collecting himself inside looking to you, distracted by the phone in your hands. Seeing no message from Trey still, why would their be? It’s 3:09am.

“What?” You ask finally noticing his stare,

“Chicken pox?” He asks amused,

“It’s a long story, due for another time.” You curse yourself for implying you wanted to see him again.

“I knew you wanted to see me again.” He teases turning the key in the ignition, the jeep wakes and begins to roll. Lurching forward as Jonah presses on the gas. Balancing his foot off the clutch, smooth enough for there not to be a jerk in the motion of the Jeep.

“Thank you, for going along in there. I don’t think Julie likes me that much.” You change direction of the conversation. Jonah’s cologne reaching your nose, cinnamon and honey. Not an ounce of alcohol lingering in, you smile lightly. It must of been pop whirling in that cup of his earlier.

“Julie palekin, never liked her much. The money her daddy has morphs her personality. “ Jonah says, gripping the steering wheel firmly, switching gears with the climbing speed. Green eyes on the road, glancing at you every so often. “I didn’t mind playing your boyfriend again. I’m getting good at it don’t you think?” The smirk is back onto his lips, teasing you till you die must of been his mission.

“This is the last time, Marais.” You say now turning your attention towards the window. Sky pitch black, littering with beautiful stars. Watching the street signs as Jonah passes them. Staying quite noticing you wanted and only the hum of the radio was heard.

Gale

Peterson

Everett

Boston

Instead of making a left turn towards campus Jonah turns the Jeep right, into the city. You sit up confused, eyes holding worry as you felt the anxiety creep in. “You’re going the wrong way.” you note, looking at Jonah, “Relax I know where I’m going.” He says humorously watching the way you reacted.

“Where are we going exactly?”

“You’ll see.” his voice calming

Less then ten minutes later Jonah pulls the Jeep into a deserted parking lot. Chocolate spot was written in glowing brown lettering a top the building. Glowing light poured through the windows indicating it was still open. Parking he cut the engine. Turning to Jonah, he had this intoxicating smile, one you hadn’t seen before. Nothing like the wolfish smirk that was always plastered on his lips.

“Where are we?” You asked cautiously,

“ if you read the letters, that with probably give you a hint.”

“Funny, I meant what exactly is the chocolate spot?” Curiosity dripping in your words.

“An ice cream parlour, now hurry up or l’ll leave you here. Fair warning Cheryl has a mean alarm.” Jonah says before climbing out of the vehicle, who is cheryl?

You sigh for the millionth time thinking it was best to follow him. Rather then wait for his slow ass in the car. By yourself at 3;30 in the morning. Before you could reach for the handle the door opened for you. Causing the lights in the car to flash on again. Looking up you were met with Jonah’s beaming face.

“I can open the door myself.” You whisper pointedly at him, green eyes watching as you tried to move your legs. Seething at the burning sensation blossoming onto the pads on your feet. With the adrenaline and the fading affect of the liquor, you felt the entire pain that these high heels endured.

“What?” Jonah’s voice holding concern, as he came to your side to aid you in any way he could. Too blind from the pain you hadn’t noticed how close he was willingly to get. Breath mingling with yours.

“Heels,” You mustered through you teeth.

Without another word Jonah knelled in front of you, moving your knees towards him to have your legs dangling out of the jeep. “Ouch!” You yelped at the sudden bolt of pain rushing up your legs, “Sorry.�� Jonah mumbled before his warm hands started working on the buckle around your ankle. Jonah’s eyebrows knitted together, concentrating on the task at hand.

You watched him, wondering what it’d feel like to rake a hand through those curls. What it’d feel like to read a book and have his head tuck safely in your lap.

Unclasping the buckle he firmly gripped the back of your calf. His other hand on the bottom of the heel as he soft removed the death trap you called a shoe. Pulling the straps out of various wounds, opening the cuts. You seethed gripping the door frame of the jeep till your knuckled turned white. “Fuck. you’re bleeding. How did you manage to walk out of there without twisting your ankle?” He asks looking up at you, placing the heel on the floor of the vehicle.

“Adrenaline and alcohol.” You say with a shrug.

“That’s it.”

“Yes.”

He didn’t respond only stared at you for a little longer. Then his attention on the other cages foot, Doing the same. But this time he counted down from three before removing the shoe. Giving you time to mentally prepare yourself of the stinging yank. “There, your cute little toes are free, Although they’re sporting some nasty battle wounds.” Jonah smiled before standing up again, your feet feeling free and light as ever.

“My hero, what would I do without you?” You asked mimicking a princess, not thinking.

“No need to thank me m’lady it was all my pleasure.” Jonah plays along and bows to you in the process, you both burst into a fit of laughter. Enjoying the way they meld together perfectly. The laughing died out as your mind wandered off

Stop, don’t give in. Not to Jonah Marais. But this guy in front of you didn’t feel like that Jonah everybody knew. The one who go himself into heavy trouble giving him those brutal bruises you forgot about. The one who had everyone falling at his feet, the one who goes through them like it was a damn race. This kindness he was giving you was a trick. It had to be right?

“Let me help you out,” Jonah offers his hand out to you. Spotting gorgeous ink crawl up into his sleeve. You nod too sacred your mouth would betray you. Placing your hand in his, warm sensation worked it’s way up and you fought the urge to pull away. You grip stead in Jonah’s giving a small smile before you started to jump.

Your feet never hit the cold paved ground, Jonah crouched capturing you in his arms. He groaned lightly as you screeched in his ear unaware of his devious plan. One arm against your back and another under you legs in a bridal style manor. He chuckled at the way you reacted to him, wide eyed as your heart thumped wildly in your chest.

“If I told you, you would’ve bite my head off.” He explained himself, closing the jeep door with his back. With a loud honk, it locked.

You only glared at him because he was right. You would’ve objected the idea of him carrying you inside. Would’ve risk infection then agree to be in his arms, especially with the intoxication. You didn’t trust yourself this close to him, where you breathe danced with his, where you could feel the steady beat of his heart. Where you could feel his words vibrate within his chest.

Walking inside you were memorised by the place, you could easily tell the theme was retro. The floors were tiled black and white like a chess board. Both the booths and chair were a pastel teal and pink. Down the aisle of the tables was a vintage jukebox, teal and pink neon lights ran along it.

“Jonah my boy! Come in! Come in!” The words covered in a french accent. Behind the counter stood and older man, short and pudgy. Black hair with bits of grey sprinkling in, dark brown eyes resembled the earth. A bright smile towards the both of you.

“Hello to you too Marcel.” Jonah chuckles walking to the counter,

Marcel’s smile became brighter as he spots you in Jonah’s arms. Eye’s sparkling, “Oh who is this sweet thing? Must be your girlfriend.” It was more of a statement then a question, “No, Marcel this is y/n, she’s just a friend.” Jonah explained and you swore you could here the drop in his voice.

Jonah Finally places you into a cotton candy booth. After shows you all the ice cream choices behind the glass casing. Ordering and catching up with Marcel which didn’t seem to be much as he seemed to come her often. Almost as if he knew the parlour like the back of his hand.

The leather began to stick to the backs of your thighs, bare feet on the cool marble floor. You over hear Jonah asking for the first aid kit as you looked around the place a little more. Noticing a group of younger kids, laughing and leaning into each other, show each other videos from their phones. Probably fourteen or fifteenth. Another couple sat at a centre table, beautiful smiles as they talked. Must of been one of those deep conve-

“Jesus Jonah!” You hiss at him,

The sting ran up your nerves, scrunching up your face as you tried to yank your foot from his death grip. It only tightened making sure your foot didn’t slip. You wondered how he’d react if you kicked him with your free foot, on to his ass.

His expression bored and slightly irritated, holding a cotton ball drenched in rubbing alcohol above the cut. It gleamed bright red from the light above, vaguely cleaned.

“Stop being a wuss and let me disinfect.”

“It fucking Burns Marais!”

“I know.”

“Give me some sympathy.”

He sighs, placing a cotton ball down a small serving plate Marcel donated for the cause. Jonah reached into his back pocket, his eyes never straying from your. “Here.” He places a black bandanna that has seen better days then this in your hand. You grimace and look at him, “What’s this?” you mumble. He rolls his eyes at you, “Just bite down on it! It’ll help with the pain.And before you ask yes it’s clean.”

You shrug, what did you have to lose? Folding the tattered fabric you did as told. you gave Jonah a thumbs up and an eager nod like you were ready for war. He shakes his head and chuckles, thinking you were the cutest thing this world had to offer.

Did he always have a piece of material rotting in his butt pocket for situation like this? If so, where the hell was it ten minutes ago?

You whimper into the cloth. Feeling the burning returning as he began disinfecting your wounds again. He glanced up for a few seconds seeing he discomfort in your eyes. Then the focus back on your foot.

You watched him. The way he took care of you within the last hour, you were surprised he was still single. He serenaded girls left and right with is band and his gentle touch. He never got to you, what was the point if it was just a night? what was the point if it didn’t turn into something more? Yet with all these thoughts you wanted him but you kept telling yourself no. Wha-

No. You blamed the thoughts on the alcohol still swimming in your system.

By the time Jonah finished each cut and bandaged them, Marcel brought your ice cream cups. Sliding them across the table with an innocent smile, capturing yours you stared in awe at your favourite flavour. Confusion etched into your eyebrows though, the ice cream behind the glass was hard and this was soft ice cream.

“Marcel mixes in a little bit of milk before blending it. And out comes this delicious soft ice cream.” Jonah moans sliding into the booth across from you. Mint chocolate chip ice cream already caught on the side on his lip. “Try it.” he pushes excitedly.

You do, digging out a fair amount and capturing the spoon in your mouth. Jonah watches every muscle you make. The ice cream hits your tongue your taste buds exploding. It tasted like the feeling of hugging a puppy, like pure happiness. His green eyes brighten and a genuine smile spreads onto his lips.

“This is absolutely amazing.” You beam,

“My thoughts exactly.” Jonah shoves another spoon of ice past his lips.

Jonah Marais

The radio played a gorgeous melody of Good Nights by Whethan. Hand full of gleaming rings tapped against the smooth steering wheel. Jonah hummed the lyrics thinking about sampling this song one day. Right hand curling on the gear shift, levelling the the clutch and the acceleration. His foot slips and drops the clutch causing the vehicle to jerk.

It was an instinct when his head whipped to you with concern glinting in his eyes. But Jonah sighed in relief at the sight of you. Head rested on the window, legs tucked into your body tightly. Your eyes closed and lips slightly parted, letting snores escape. Smile spread on to his lips. You were asleep in his passenger window.

Fuck you were asleep. How the hell was he going to get you through the corridors of your dorm? He didn’t feel comfortable going through your purse. Because if he did that would give you another reason not to trust him. Jonah couldn't risk that right now. The only choice was to bring you to his place. Not the fraternity, but his own personal space.

There was minimal traffic at four in the morning, Jonah weaved through it with ease and got to his apartment quick. He collected you in his arms with ease as if you were the missing piece to his complicated puzzle. You never squirmed at Cheryl’s loud honk when she locked.

Walking into his generous apartment he immediately shushed Sawyer, his three year-old Labrador. Nonetheless the asshole still managed to muster a bark, “Shut up, it’s me dingus.” Jonah whisper hissed at him, shaking his head at his dog before carrying you to his bedroom. Sawyer trailed with the light jingle of his collar and tag clashing together.

Laying you down Jonah turned for his closet, walking in as he strip out of his gross clothing. He found a pair of sweats and pulled them on, letting them rest on his hips. Coming back into the room he was startled to see you siting up. Coddling Sawyers head in your thighs, massive smile on his lips as his tail wagged.

“Hey,” Jonah greets,

Y/n turned to him a sleepy smile on her lips and a dazed look in her eyes. Half asleep, she was still cute as ever. Sawyer must of had the dumb courage to wake her up with a kiss like she was Snow White

“Have you meet Sawyer?” She asks, not realising that was his dog.

“Yeah, he’s a good dog.” He lied.

“Yes he is. Yes he is.” y/n speaks to sawyer in a baby voice, her attention on the dog again. Jonah laughs before turning back into the closet. He yanks one of his old band tees of the hanger, he smiles and shrugs. y/n can rep it for the night even if it was just in his apartment.

“Put this on, I don’t think you want to sleeping in that dress,” Jonah Throws the shirt at y/n and it hits her right in the face. “Shit!” he mumbles resisting the urge to laugh and escapes the room before she had the chance to curse him.

He digs up a blanket and a pillow from the hallway closet. Coming into the den he makes a makeshift bed on the soft leather couch. This would be the first time sleeping on them since he didn’t being girls to this apartment. It was his personal home, he didn’t want them poking around when they woke. Seeing parts of him nobody got to see. Y/n was different. Jonah honest didn't care if she saw or even took a souvenir on her way out.

walking back to check on her, Jonah tapped two knuckles on the door frame. There was no answer so he waited, still no response. Assuming she fell back asleep he entered his bedroom and smiled, y/n cuddled into Sawyer like she was meant to be there. As if Jonah saw her every night in his bed and still got those butterflies.

Small snores came both of them, their chests expanding with every breath. Walking in he spotting her green dress and bag a few inches away from the bed. First he morphed the dress in a ball and shot it into his hamper like a basket ball. Secondly he set her purse on the nightstand for her to find in the morning. He started for the door, but halted at the sound of his name rolling off her tongue.

“Jonah?”

“Yes” His words were urgent as he whirled to face her. Face half tucking into sawyer’s back as sleep swam in her eyes like a pool. “Could you please stay with me till I fall asleep?” Her words held a form of desperation, he was utterly confused by it. Thee y/n was asking him, Jonah Marais who she wasn’t too fond of to sleep in bed with her? He had to be dreaming because she would never say that in the bright of day. Although she was half asleep in his bed and never questioned it.

“I don’t know, you already have Sawyer.” He gives her time to reject him,

“Maybe it’s a little greedy, but I want both of you please? Just until I fall asleep and then you can leave.” She offers, but as soon as he’s beside her he knows he wont want to leave.

“Y-yeah I guess I can do that.” he stammers on his words.

“Thank you.” She mumbles with a small smile.

Jonah nods not sure how to response to her, he circles the bed and climbs into the right side. Heart pounding against his rib cage. He glances over already seeing y/n on her side and one hand cradling her face. Jonah gets into the same position, close enough so that her breath hits his face.

“What does it feel like to perform with the guys?” She asks a question Jonah never thought she cared about.

“Ecstasy. Singing these lyrics and fingers dancing on the guitar. It just gives me adrenaline like nothing before. Like i’m on top of a mountain and there’s nothing I can’t do. Like searching for paradise and finally finding it. It feels like home, as if I meant to do this for the rest of my life.” Y/n is quite watching the way Jonah beams talking about playing with his band.

“That’s what painting feels like to me, or did.” She says into a yawn that made him chuckle.

“You don’t paint anymore?”

“Nah passions don’t pay the bills. It’s what my dad always said. So here I am trying my shot at the medical field, the family profession.” Y/n yawns again as he eyes begin to droop.

“What’s the point if your hearts not in it?” He starts to pry,

“Not all of use have trust founds, we have to work for it.” He voice sounding more tired by the second.

“Your dad’s a plastic surgeon.” Jonah notes, blood boiling at this new information.

“He worked for all of it and now so do I.” Her eyes fully closed, knowing she was about to pass out any minute now.

“That’s...” He trailed off not knowing what to say to that, y/f/n was pushing her to become something she’s not. That sentence tasted metallic in his mouth, if y/n was his. He’d purchase an entire panting studio just for her and call it Jonah’s muse. because she indeed his muse,

Light snores soon erupted in the air, looking over he couldn’t stop smiling at the sight. You looked younger when you slept, resembling an angel. No a goddess. You looked so fucking attractive with his band tee on. His face was technically on your body as well as the rest of his band mates. Jonah would still take that as a win.

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

Y/n

The afternoon sun woke you up, warmth spreading along your body. Eyes still fluttered closed you roll over bumping into warm flesh. Your brain gives you a few seconds to bask in the warmth of Jonah. Then it clicks. There’s a body in your bed, recoiling at lighten speed you hit the floor. Pain sparks through your tail bone and a delicate headache pounds into your skull.

Sitting on the floor of a foreign room you begin to remember last night. The party. Ivette handing you off to Jonah at said party, well Daniel did. Jonah driving you home, scratch that to an ice cream parlour. His gentle hands tending to high heel wounds. Devouring the most amazing ice cream. Jonah driving you home. That’s it that’s all you remember, it doesn't explain how you got here.

Looking around frantically you caught sight of a dog you’ve never seen before. Watching you at the foot of the massive bed covered in black silk sheets. Two doors, one and exit to the hallway. The other was most likely a closet with piles of clothes spilling out. Large windows lined the room and a glass desk resting at the best view.

Heart missing a beat as you helped yourself off the floor.Taking cautious steps to the bed, spotting Jonah sleeping peaceful. On his back with sprawled out arms. Beautiful ink scattered along his right arm and the left side of his chest. Soft features as the sun engulfed him in the glorious light. It’d take no effort to crawl back into his bed. Rest your head onto his chest and listen to his heart beat.

You couldn’t.

You flee taking your purse with you on the way out. Unlocking the door and taking the elevator down. Struggling you fetch your phone out, praying that it still had life left to live and call Ivette. Wasn’t till this moment you realise you only had on a t-shirt. It was most definitely Jonah’s, massive fit reaching the mid of your thighs. Oh and let’s not forget the fact that it had his entire band on it.

The phone barely rang twice when Ivette picks up. “I need you to pick me up, like five minutes ago. Jonah took me to this ice cream parlour last night and next think I know I’m waking up in his bed. I don’t know where my dress is.” You rush your words out in a panic.

The elevator dings, you dash out getting a weird look from the door man. Stopping in your tracks with a modified expression on your face. you just walked out into the busiest street downtown. Not only were you wearing an oversized band t-shirt, no it wouldn’t stop there. You were also Bare. Foot.

“That doesn’t make sense Jonah never came home last night,” She says tiredly on the other line. Still waking up in Daniel’s bed, not a surprise there.

“His apartment! I’m pretty sure I know what Jonah looks like. He had a golden Labrador ring a bell?You got me into this mess, now get me out.” You looked like a whining toddler, mind splattering as you complained to her.

“A Labrador? Did you take something? Send me your fucking location.” That was Ivette’s mom voice, which totally meant she was going to curse your ass as soon as you got in the car.

“Sawyer.” a hushed male voice said in the background. there was a rustle on the other line. Ivette covered the mic, but you could still here them.

“What?”

“Jonah’s dog. He probably took her to his personal apartment.”

“I thought he lives here with you guys.”

“He does sometimes, but he mostly lives there. That’s beside the point, I know where it is.” A few more words are shared before the ruffle is back. She uncovered the mic.

“Daniel knows where you are, we’ll be there in thirsty. Stay put and don’t take anything else.” Ivette explains as if you didn’t here every word they spoke.

“I didn’t take anything.” Before the words are heard Ivette hangs up and cuts the line without saying goodbye.

Roughly forty minutes later Ivette’s range rover pulls to the crib so fast the rims almost kissed it.“Finally.” you mumbled to yourself, it’d probably would’ve been faster if you hailed a cab. But the bill would’ve been brutal.

The passenger window rolls down uncovering Ivette giving you a knowing smirk. Daniel gives a small wave from the driver’ seat, you flash him an irritated smile. His blue eyes almost pop out of their sockets before he’s attention is on the road.

“I really love the dress, every iconic. Don’t you think Daniel?” Ivette’s voice is teasing and sickly sweet.

“ Yeah. Those shirts were a demo, test run for real merch. It never got launched so only we have those shirts.” Daniel Pipes in looking at the fabric that clothed your body.

“Not only did Jonah take you to his apartment but he gave you his prised possession,” Ivette continues the teasing know that it got under you skin.

“Shut up.” You say sharply, annoyed on how long they took to pick you up. Should ran upstairs and woke Jonah up.

“What can’t take the teasing?” Ivette asks as you climb into the back seat. The scent of sweet cherry enters your nose as the leather circles around your body.

“Not when I woke to Jonah and Daniel taking forty minutes to get here!” You spit, the anger eating you alive. You stare at the back of his head and shoot daggers at him. Brunette roots starting to grown under his bleached blonde hair.

“They also have our last name and birth year on the back.” His words sound forced as he tried to fill the tense air. You shake your head and scoff. “Of course they fucking do. It’s almost like having a hickey on my neck shouting to the world I belong to someone. This is worse because everybody on campus knows who Jonah Marais is!” They go quiet and you begin stare out the window done with your little rant.

Daniel presses on the gas abruptly causing the vehicle to speed forward. Your back hits the seat with the impact. He goes through traffic like this is some NASCAR championship. You begin to wonder how the shirt got on your body. You were going kill him you just didn’t know how yet.

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

Thank you so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed the second part of That One.

Which was your favourite part?

Don’t be afraid to message me if anything offended you with my POC characters. This is a safe space for everyone and I want to make it right!

Taglist: @jonahlovescoffee @randomlimelightxxx

31 notes · View notes

bibliocratic · 4 years

Text

TMA jonmartin fics

Organising these, mostly so I can keep track to be honest. All some flavour of jonmartin, predominantly fluff or angst. cws in original tags.

Updated as of June 2020

If you'd like to send any prompts, feel free! All of these are also bundled together on A03.

Martin tries to rescue Jon from Elias, post-160

JONAH MAGNUS Oh, but, look. Look at him, Martin. Isn’t my Archive magnificent?

MARTIN [whispered, almost fearful] Yes.

Martin feels the pull of the Lonely. Jon draws a bath.

“Come on,” Jon says, enfolding their hands together. His voice is kind, and that’s never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight. Jon’s kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Even after Jon stops being the Archivist, they aren’t safe. (parent!AU)

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I’ll at least listen.”

Martin's nightmares never quite leave him

Martin feels the question form there, at the centre, the tentative journey it traverses before he hears 'Can I…. I mean, do you want to…?’

The question isn’t fully born before he’s heaving great waves of sobs into the chest he’s pillowed on. Like clockwork, the arms come round, always an inch too tight a grip, and somehow that makes this easier to bear.

Things were always going to catch up with them eventually

He’s a light sleeper, and they knew he would be. Didn’t want him to wake too soon, to be denied a proper welcome. Jon shifts and stretches and burrows as he slips dazedly into consciousness, nestling tighter against the body next to him still fast-asleep before the thick weight of sleep is dropped and he jolt up, a punched out breath of shock escaping them.

And finally they are witnessed. They watch his expressions free-fall from understanding to despair.

Local Man cheats at card games, Local Avatar is smitten

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating. Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way –you cheat! How could you?!

soulmate-identifying marks, or: fuck yeah tattoos

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly. Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

Something is wrong. Martin just can't put his finger on it.

“Sorry,” Jon says, without sounding sorry in the slightest, almost cheeky. He bestows another kiss that is not a kiss to Martin’s neck, scraping a little with his teeth.

“Sleep,” Martin repeats, groggy but firm, and traps the soft, unblemished skin of Jon’s hands in his own.

Martin has certain standards

Jon feels a wide smile begin on his face (still so rare, still hard-won, but Martin teases them out of him with the smallest things these days).

“You hipster!” he says with delight, secretly pleased he’s found something he can tease Martin about. “Have you thrown out my teabags just to make a point?”

Jon wakes up and finds Martin gone

– Something is absent from us. –

Jon opens his blinking, feeble human eyes. Feels around with his finger tips, feels the cool sheet next to him, the unoccupied imprint on the pillow.

Martin is not next to him.

Jon strikes a bargain to save Martin

Martin is blinking away the sediment build-up of unshed tears and they roll down his face, shrivelling in the strict grip of the cold.

“I thought,” he says thinly, “I thought I was going to die alone.”

“You aren’t going to die,” Jon bites out, and it only has the ghost of a furious intensity but the sentiment soaks in it. He feels the Loneliness recede, with a slowness that’s impartially mocking. “You aren’t going to die. I won’t let you.”

Martin showing normal, genuine human anger, feat. Blackwood Snr.

“Right,” comes the short response. “I am – you know I am trying here.”

Martin’s voice goes low and flat and judgemental.

“And how long until you lose interest this time?”

MLM solidarity front, or: Tim and Martin go drinking

“I mean – I – I’d like to. If you – if you still want.”

Tim grins, and his cocksure manner is on display like a theatre curtain lifted. He stands up, doing a stupid little bow like he’s trying to make Martin laugh.

“t'would be my honour to lead you astray, Master Blackwood.”

Back-and-forth early morning teasing

“It’s a bit late to tell me you’re a dog person,” Jon chides instead. “I’m afraid I might have to call this whole thing off, if that’s the case.”

Martin looks up at him with his face squashed into his ‘you are not, and have never been funny, Jonathan’ face.

Martin hides an injury. Jon is freaking out in his own way.

He can taste grit and dirt in his mouth and there’s a stinging dampness on his upper lip. He blinks, coming to terms slowly, and it’s then that he realises, just from a brief glance, that Jon is absolutely fuming.

Jon is getting better at expressing what he wants

Jon reaches out, and like setting fingers to the board of a violin, delicately fits his hand against Martin’s. Like he’s memorised exactly the places where they go, the coves and shorelines where their islands can align.

Martin’s grip has never been as careful. His fingers engulf Jon’s smaller size, cushioning them in a sturdy grip.

How to proposal to your boyfriend during an apocalypse, and definitely how not to.

Jon tries to write vows.

Domesticity and going on holiday, post Watcher's Crown

“Jon!” Martin is shouting with his head shoved in the under-stairs closet. “You got your raincoat?”

“I won’t need it,” comes the low response from the kitchen.

“The weather said it might rain.”

“It’ll be fine,” Jon replies, only half listening really, with a willfully misplaced confidence in the weather.

“I’ll pack it anyway,” Martin calls back, kicking something else with his foot that sounds like the hoover. “In case.”

Jon does not react well to ending the world. Martin puts together the pieces.

Under the watch of that terrible sky, Jon crumples like something demolished.

Martin catches him. He always will, he remembers thinking.

In the Lonely, Jon hugs Martin (set mid-159)

Jon’s arms go around him, and there is nothing tentative, soft-shoed, there is no awkward displacement holding him slightly at a distance. Jon’s arms go around him, and he – his body unfolds against Martin’s. There is much too much of him, a surge of all-at-once motion and Martin feels like splintering.

Martin's not the only one susceptible to the Lonely

He hears the wash of mile-distant waves, as though behind the shelves to the front of the shop, and thinks not here, not here.

He tries to shake his head loose of the fog beginning to bind it like cobwebbing wisps. But the world has such terrors in it, and the Archive keeps record of them all. And that’s what Jon is, in the end.

The day-to-day ramifications of being a record of ceaseless terror

In the dark, under the covers, the sound is the shift of grave soil, of pressing earth, but it is also Martin, ensconced in warm empty dreams, Jon trying to breath through his nose and not wake him up, and it can be all of these things at once.

Supportive Martin and the Eye-based horror his boyfriend sometimes turns into.

“Stop.”

The rats stop. So does Martin. The scream bubbles un-made and unvoiced in his chest and he can’t blink the blood out of his eyes. He can’t see Jon, but he doesn’t expect to. It’s not Jon that’s here with them any more.

'I'll stay right here, ok?”

“The ambulance will be here s – ” Martin starts, trying to be gentle, but Jon tightens his grip ever so kindly, shakes his head.

“I don’t think I’ll be waiting around for that,” he says, and it’s almost light-hearted in the face of what they both know is now inevitable.

Patron swap, Lonely!Jon, Beholding!Martin

It is a surprise to no one that upon taking over the Institute, Peter Lukas turns his hand at trying to steer Jonathan Sims to the Lonely.

In the days after the end of the world, Jon finds Martin a gift

“Woss, what’s wrong?” Martin starts, but Jon’s pressing something into his hands firmly, so self-satisfied, joyous and smug with a mysterious success, and he feels his own grin start to blossom in kind, wanting to take part in the same delight. “What is it?”

sleep doesn't look pleasant, spoilers for 161

Martin won’t wake up. Eyes clenched closed, breathing laboured, and for a long while, Jon’s world gets quieter as his own immediate louder fear rises like gall in his throat. He tries compelling him even.

Jon doesn’t know that this will happen every time Martin dreams.

Jon is admitted to hospital. Martin frets.

Jon nearly died today, his brain keeps reminding him. You nearly lost him, you nearly weren’t fast enough.

Trans!Jon, Trans!Martin, intimate rituals

Jon’s hair is getting long.

Morning rituals, Jon admiring the view.

But he much prefers this slow and lazy unwinding of a day because he gets to study Martin. He puts his elbows on the wooden table off to the side of their pokey kitchen, and enjoys watching an artless, intimate one-man performance just for him, as he acclimatises to the day.

Scottish honeymoon, soft get-together

Martin wonders why Jon didn’t go upstairs. Take the bed. The cottage is an old crofter’s place, two small and utilitarian bedrooms where they discarded their meagre belongings on arrival.

Martin looks at the tea. Feels the scarf under his head, the heavy coats weighing him down.

Thinks he might know why.

Monster!Jon, AU S5

“What the fuck are you?” she says. She does not lower her weapon. The guard to her left has raised her own.

All of its eyes blink out of rhythm as its unseen mouth moves with that croaking, piteous whisper. “He’s, he’s human, he’s hurt and he needs – he’ll die, please.” The man it is carrying looks human. Painted with dirt and filth, the slick of insects broken over his skin. His breathing is starting to rattle.

Tim is mildly cursed, S1 shenanigans

Whoever is closest, but usually Sasha, will give a sarcastic cheer. To which Tim – cradling his injury, glowering with a fire-starter expression at whatever file or paper or fragment dealt the blow – will reply: “Piss off, right, it’s not funny, I’m cursed. This is a curse.”

OG Archive crew sad hours

There could have been a day, when they’d all just talked.

Martin struggles to readjust to the world, post 159

Some days though, when the tempest around has dropped from squalling, Martin feels brave enough to look over at Jon.

Jon and Martin’s post-s5 wish list

“Martin?”

“Hmm?”

“After all this, after we’ve – what do you want to do? If we manage to – ”

“When we manage to.”

“Fine, when all this goes back to the way it was, what do you want to do?”

Safehouse drabble

Jon doesn’t sleep but this rest is as close to peace as this world allows him.

AU S3, Breekon and Hope take Martin, not Jon.

Tim always thought Martin was reliable. Unshakeable.

That he was always going to be there.

Martin’s daemon is a spider. People have mixed feelings about this.

“Aron,” Martin says slowly. He keeps his hands folded on his lap but his fingers twitch to reach out. “This is – we’ve settled, haven’t we?”

Aron can’t nod. His form can’t allow for such an expression. But he brings his legs in closer, pebbles up and won’t look at Martin, and that’s answer enough.

Aspec Martin Week - Daemon!AU

Martin has always liked watching Emer. The flash of gossamer-white wings circling Jon’s head or sat on his wrist like an overly-extravagant watch while he read statements.

“Stop looking,” he used to hiss at the moving lump under his shirt, poking many orb-like eyes over his collar to stare even when Martin stopped. “It’s rude.”

Aspec Martin Week - Martin’s first Pride

Restored from their dramatic hangovers, Monday comes. Martin arrives huffing and delayed from the Tube to see Tim’s stuck his flag so it stands battered and proud over the lid of his laptop. Sasha’s made her small desk teddy bear hold hers. And it’s the memory of the day, the sun and the heat and the wild dizzying lack of expectations of it all, that gives him the courage to bring the flags he carefully preserved in on Tuesday, to put them jutting out of the mug on his desk that holds his stationery.

Honestly, he doesn’t expect anyone to comment on them. It’s not like anyone else comes down to their offices anyway.

Aspec Martin Week - Martin comes out (with help)

You surge against his lips again so he can’t see your nerves, you stupid, unfounded, calcifying anxieties, the barriers you keep putting up yourself because you are so terrified of being happy.

“Maybe… not tonight?” you mumble into your shared air. If he pushed, if he asked again, you would. He dragged you from the shoreline, out of the fog, this is the least you can give him. You’d lie on your back, or you’d cover him with your shape, and you’d try so hard to make him happy so he wouldn’t notice you not sharing the same. “’m a bit tired.”

Tricky, is what you are. Perjurious. Prevaricating. Two-faced.

Martin is a massive fan of Jon’s multitude of eyes

“I just want to see,” Martin mimics petulance and Jon huffs a smirk.

“They are my eyeballs,” he responds primly, putting down a dry mug and picking up a plate to towel off.

“What’s the point of having horror-bestowed physical improvements if you don’t show them off?”

Martin worries about being a father

That’s not – ” Martin says, stops. Pulls his hands away from his face, his eyes puffy.

He takes Jon’s hand, still perched on his knee, laces their fingers together. Over the baby monitor, Jon can hear the soft untroubled in-and-out of their son breathing.

“I sounded like my dad,” Martin confesses finally. Fat tears well up and stagger down his tear-prickled cheeks. “I sounded exactly like him.”

Martin and Jon get wine drunk

Jon sticks out his tongue. Martin tries to poke it with his finger, and Jon reels back with another one of those wine-laden expressions, earnest and open as a window.

“I want to know everything about you,” he says, struggling with finding the opening at the top of the pack, before he pauses, dutifully following up with a no-less sincere and concessionary: “But not if you don’t want to.”

There’s nothing sexier than open and honest communication (post-166)

“I fucking hate the Buried,” Jon says into Martin’s shoulder.

“It sucks,” Martin agrees. “You er – you have any more poetry this time?”

Martin feels Jon’s ‘no’ like an earth tremor over his breastbone.

“Worms,” comes the reply muffled shapeless into his coat.

“Like…normal worms?”

“People worms.”

“Rrright. Less fun then.”

Martin has some thoughts about the Web

Martin does not think about spiders.

(Except he does.)

Did you feel, Jon had proposed delicately, like she was influencing your mind at all?

Jon’s world has no certainties. No maps, boundaries, no promises that can remain unquestioned.

Martin has the edges of his world now. He has to be able to trust in them.

Jon gets hurt and doesn’t tell Martin

Jon burns when Martin puts a hand to his forehead, and he won’t wake, not for Martin’s calls and shakes, not for anything. When Martin goes to check, the wound on his leg has rooted from ankle to thigh, festering rot-black branches of something sludgy and swollen and varicose tracing the same lines as his veins.

The Corruption wars with Beholding upon the battleground of its Archive, and there is nothing Martin can do.

Martin still struggles with his mental health

It was easier, Martin thinks sometimes, when he could blame it on the Lonely.

Episode 170 could have gone so many different ways

This is your house, we whisper to him.

You have always been here alone, we promise.

We recite to our beloved that he has never been loved, and our winds, our walls, our winding mists tell him so often that eventually he believes us.

#tma #long post #jonmartin #the magnus archives #fic #prompt fills #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

150 notes · View notes