#jon says he Misses how they used to talk and like yeah he's been dealing with his own shit but that never got in the way of he and will b4? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mllemaenad · 4 months

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Having now listened to all of The Magnus Archives ... hm, yeah, I think they made it out all right in the end. And I don't just mean that in a soppy I-can-only-stand-happy-endings sort of way (although, it's been a crappy few months, and to be honest I wouldn't mind a happy ending), but because I think there's a really satisfying conclusion to John's character arc if he finally figures out how it all works.

Er. John? Jon? I have seen it spelled both ways, and now I am confused. And the character seems to be named after his creator, which is not making me less confused. But the transcript uses "John", so I will go with that.

John's core problem is that he is constantly trying to take control of his life and his choices, but is never able to do so because the narrative won't let him. He undoubtedly makes several rash decisions that the audience can guess won't end well, but even in cases where he sits down and attempts to make the best choice possible he ends up playing into the hands of his enemies, because they are able to tightly control the information to which he has access. Things that seem rational based on what he knows end up being terrible choices, because of how well curated "what he knows" happens to be.

There's a thing a lot of the characters do, where they describe the logic of their world as akin to dreams or nightmares:

SIMON No, no, no, you’re right, of course. The thing you have to remember is that no one actually knows how these things work – not really. There’s always been plenty of theories, of course, and over a century or two you do start to get an intuitive feel for it, but… there’s really no hard-and-fast rules. The powers, or entities, or fears, or whatever you want to call them, are bound up in emotion. In feeling. How they exist, what they can do, how they interact with the world… it all makes about as much logical sense as a nightmare. [MARTIN INHALES] Which is to say, there is a certain sort of emotional logic to it all: things feel like they flow together in a way that makes sense, but if you try to stop and do the maths, then it all comes apart. At least, in my experience. – Simon Fairchild, doing the exposition for characters and audience alike. Big Picture

But, as Simon points out, the trouble is that none of them really understand what they're talking about. Few people in this world seem to dedicate actual time to understanding it – most are either seduced or destroyed (or some weird combination of the two) by the power that comes with worship and terror.

So they get close, but they miss the point: it's not dream logic, it's story logic. There's a reasonable amount of crossover, of course: both deal in emotion and theme and imagery. We'll forgive a plot hole or continuity error in a story if the narrative feels right, and nobody is surprised if their dreams don't have coherent worldbuilding in them. But stories have purpose in them in a way that dreams do not. They're trying to say something that you need to think about. You can't really tell somebody about a dream without imposing narrative logic on it that wasn't necessarily there when you dreamt it, and most dreams simply fade away into nothingness once you've had them. But a narrative is shaped, and if it's good it can live virtually forever. You can't control a dream, but you can and should control a narrative.

That's the thing John finally works out.

I mean - of course it's got story logic, right? It's a story. It's a piece of fiction, so it's got themes and tropes and character foils and recurring imagery and all that jazz. But beyond that, it is a story made up of a patchwork of other stories: most of the episodes contain a little self-contained supernatural story with its own protagonist and its own ending; over the top of that lie a series of recurring characters who pop up across multiple episodes, and whose personal stories you can learn, and who will intersect with each other to build a historical narrative that explains how we got here; and on top of that are the characters who live closest to the present – John and whichever assistants are still alive at any given moment – and their struggle to deal with all this.

It's that patchwork that makes up the net in which John is caught for most of the series: because he is only able to follow the narrative, he is not able to control it. Yes, he is directly manipulated by actual characters in the story – most prominently by Jonah Magnus and Annabelle Cane – but it is mostly the story itself that keeps him locked in place.

In most cases, there is nothing whatsoever he can do about the various events that take place in the story. He's almost always reading about something that happened anywhere between years and centuries prior. Even when he's acquired enough information to understand what's happening in these stories he can't do a single damn thing for the characters. They either made it out on their own or they didn't.

Occasionally the story moves closer to the present, usually at season end but in a few other places as well, but even then he is still following behind the narrative. The story isn't about him, but his predecessor: "Why was Gertrude Robinson murdered? What did she know?" He is following the story of a dead woman. Her story is well and truly over, but he cannot catch up to the end of it.

Because the thing about the Archivist is that – well, it’s a bit of a misnomer. It might, perhaps, be better named: The Archive. Because you do not administer and preserve the records of fear, John. You are a record of fear, both in mind as you walk the shuddering record of each statement, and in body as the Powers each leave their mark upon you. You are a living chronicle of terror. – Technically John speaking, but in practice Jonah Magnus monologuing about his evil plan. The Eye Opens

His whole purpose in the story is to read (or on a few notable occasions hear) something bizarre, express a general "What the actual fuck was that?" and move on, without any ability to act on what he has learned.

But there is logic to their world. Season five – well, technically the finale of season four – turns the implicit into the explicit.

It does tickle me, that in this world of would-be occult dynasties and ageless monsters, the Chosen One is simply that – someone I chose. It’s not in your blood, or your soul, or your destiny. It’s just in your own, rotten luck. – More of Jonah Magnus being smug. He does go on a bit. The Eye Opens

The thing is, though: you aren't a Chosen One unless you're in a story. That's a narrative archetype. Even if you attempt to impose the idea on a historical event, you're only doing so retroactively by slotting a person into a particular narrative framework that probably does not match reality. It's unsurprising that Magnus had to build his horrifying fantasy world out of the trappings of a quest narrative: his whole power base is built out of collected stories. But if that's the world you make, you end up with a very specific set of rules.

Consequently, John spends much of the season explaining why they have to follow the rules of a quest narrative in order to actually go anywhere.

ARCHIVIST (heh) You see that tower, way off in the distance? MARTIN (don’t like where this is going) Yeah. (beat, sigh) It’s watching us, isn’t it? ARCHIVIST The Panopticon and the Institute. Merged into something entirely new. MARTIN (splutter-scoff) Wai– what? No, there’s, there’s no way we can see it from here. We – We must still be a hundred miles from the border, never mind London! ARCHIVIST You could see that tower from anywhere on Earth. And it can see you. And if you walk towards it, eventually you’ll get there. But you have to go through everything in between. [Pause.] MARTIN (bright) You’re being ominous again. ARCHIVIST (ah!) Sorry. Sorry. MARTIN What do you mean ‘everything?’ What’s out here? [The Archivist inhales. As he does so, there’s a sort of creaking – and then we hear the weakest strains of bagpipes beginning to fade through.] ARCHIVIST Nightmares. Come on, that trench is our first. – John, taking a turn at the exposition. In the Trenches

Dreams don't work that way – or at least they don't have to. Dreams can drop you into any situation and pull you out of it again with neither logic nor explanation. But if you are heading to a dark tower to confront an evil wizard ... well, then, everybody knows that you have a lot of walking to do. That you must meet friends and foes along the way and fight smaller battles before you fight the big one. It's how it goes.

It's even more explicit – almost painfully so – when dealing directly with character development.

ARCHIVIST Alright. [MORE WALKING] Next one’s through here. BASIRA Next one? ARCHIVIST Her latest victim. [DOOR IS WRENCHED OPEN WITH A METALLIC CREAK] [MARTIN REELS, SOUNDS OF FLIES BUZZING] Recognise her. BASIRA … No… I don’t think I do. ARCHIVIST That wasn’t a question. It was an instruction. We can’t move on until you do. MARTIN John, what are you getting at? ARCHIVIST This isn’t just a journey through spaces. – Basira preferring not to do introspection in a literal hellscape, but John has worked out the narrative rules so it's confront-your-past day in the apocalypse. The Processing Line

John is not wildly unusual in being a specific person's Chosen One: you can make the word "destiny" do a lot of work, and the poor bastard in the role is as often as not the favourite of a god, or the only child of a king, or the last of something bearing the duty of a larger group.

He is somewhat more unusual in being two people's Chosen One, and somewhat moreso again by being broadly opposed to the thing he was chosen to do. But the core thing is that this is a known role; it's a structure you can work with. Eventually. When you're in a position to do so.

Martin figured it out a season earlier.

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. John 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… John 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? – Martin explaining that he was just stringing the villains along. Panopticon

The thing is, he is Peter Lukas's Chosen One. The reasoning behind it is cruel, but I can think of a few stories about gods making bets on what humans will do. But he works out what kind of story they're trying to tell him, and turns it to his advantage.

This is a good one. Everybody knows this one: one of the characters is betraying the others and working with the villains. It isn't because he wants to; it's because his hand has been forced. But it's a trap. It will get him killed. It will get his friends killed. The villains are lying to him about what they mean to do and how far they mean to make him go. The audience knows this, but the characters just keep digging their holes deeper and deeper ... until the sudden reveal that it was a con all along. The "traitor" never intended to turn on his friends. It was part of the plan. It's a classic. It's basically the plot of The Sting. Who wouldn't want a turn at being Robert Redford?

And it works. Martin gets everything he wants out of that ploy: Lukas is destroyed, "Elias" is unmasked as Jonah Magnus, John makes good on his earlier commitment to run away with him, and he skips the eye gouging. You can't fault his results. The problem is, Martin is a secondary character. He doesn't quite have the narrative weight to resolve the primary conflict. That plot revolves around him but the plot does not, so in the longer term, things continue to get worse.

But he does prove it can be done. If you recognise what kind of story you are in, and the different ways that kind of story can go, you can grab on a narrative thread and steer it in a direction that works for you.

ANNABELLE We found the one we believed most likely to bring about their manifestation. We marked him young, guided his path as best we could. And then, we took his voice. ARCHIVIST No… ANNABELLE His, and those he walked with. We inscribed them on shining strands of word and meaning, and used them to weave a web which cast itself out through the gate and beyond our universe. So that when the Fears heard that voice, and came in their terrible glory, they might then travel out along it. Or be dragged. BASIRA Is she talking about the tapes? ARCHIVIST Yes. – In which Annabelle explains why there are tape recorders everywhere. Connected

You can say voice or tapes, but that's missing the point: it's stories that will carry these beings out of the world. Two hundred odd narratives about godlike beings with insatiable hunger and Lovecraftian pretensions who can travel to other worlds when the denizens of those places hear the tales. That has its own uncomfortable implications, sure, but if you've been paying attention you know something else about those stories:

ARCHIVIST Statement ends. (sigh) One thing that always strikes me when I read statements like this is… the bias of survivorship. With one or two notable exceptions, the only statements the Institute receives are those where the witness has successfully escaped whatever terrible place or being has marked them for a victim. I wonder how many don’t make it out. How many of those shapes in the water were once just like Mr. Shakya. – John is being gloomy, but he has hit upon an important point. Submerged

They are largely stories in which humans beat the monsters. They are stories about how to survive. You can do a horror story with a catastrophic ending, of course. It can have a great impact. But probably not two hundred of them in a row. That would be hard going on the listener: another week, another corpse. So these are largely hopeful stories – with those noted exceptions, of course.

I've seen the memes: I know Joshua Gillespie, who beat a coffin that wanted to consume him with a bowl of ice, is a favourite. Of course he is: that's genius. Or Dylan Anderson, who just ... covered a homicidal pig in concrete. Characters like Gerard Keay and Adelard Dekker are attractive because when they arrive on the scene, the supernatural becomes no more than another problem to be solved with just the right application of human ingenuity (and Dekker, notably, is probably the source for the concrete trick – you cannot fault results).

There are two possible threads to pull on here: you can pull on the thread of supernatural horror, or the thread of human resourcefulness in the face of adversity.

SASHA Why record it? ARCHIVIST What? SASHA Before, in the office. It, it was stupid going for the tape recorder like that, and then when you dropped it out there – ARCHIVIST I said I was sorry. If I’d known Martin had another one stashed in here, I never would have… SASHA No, it’s, it’s fine, just… I just don’t understand. I thought you hated the damn thing. You’re always going on about it. ARCHIVIST I do! I did. I just… I don’t want to become a mystery. I refuse to become another goddamn mystery. SASHA What? ARCHIVIST Look, even if you ignore the walking soil-sack out there, and the fact that we are probably minutes from death, there is still so much more happening here. MARTIN I’m not sure we can really ignore the – ARCHIVIST Every real statement just leads… deeper into something I don’t even know the shape of yet. And to top it all, I still don’t know what happened to Gertrude. Officially she’s still missing, but Elias is no help and the police were pretty clear that the wait to call her dead is just a formality. If I die, wormfood or… something else, whatever, I’m going to make damn sure the same doesn’t happen to me. Whoever takes over from me is going to know exactly what happened. – John, making bad tape-recorder related decisions. Infestation

And there is mystery. That is another thread you can pull on. Because in the end, Gertrude wasn't a mystery at all. Her activities, her personality, her associates, her strengths and her weaknesses are all pretty well documented. She's dead on the floor with three bullets in her. She's the reason they're in this mess, because she did the thinking Jonah Magnus could not and set him on his path. She would hate that with every fibre of her being – but it is known. What you know about her is that she failed, and she died.

John is wrong, in the above, because of course he is. He doesn't know anything yet, except that his workplace is probably evil and currently full of worms. He hasn't worked out the story logic, yet, and he doesn't yet see the difference between knowing and understanding.

Mystery. What if? That's a powerful plot thread you can pull on, if you're in the right place and you are desperate enough.

There's what he can't do, in the end. He can't trap the weird fear entities in the world and starve them to death. Annabelle knew exactly what buttons to push to get him heading in that direction, sure, but it was never going to work. I don't even mean the business with the lighter, although that's the practical way this was set up. I mean this is a five-season series in which the temples of these dark gods are repeatedly destroyed by fire, book burning is a recurring motif, and "What if we made it explode?" is always a solid cross-generation Team Archives plan. For heaven's sake – The Magnus Institute has basically the same fatal flaw as The Death Star. We're blowing it up in the finale. We just are. It's that kind of story. It doesn't matter what he wants. There was never anything there for John to pull on.

But this?

ARCHIVIST Do it! The knife’s just there. Let them go. MARTIN [Tearful] I’m not going to kill you! ARCHIVIST Cut the tether. Send them away. Maybe we both die. Probably. But maybe not. Maybe, maybe everything works out, and we end up somewhere else. MARTIN Together? ARCHIVIST One way or another. Together. – Absolute last-minute planning, because that's how they do things. Last Words

It can seem to come out of nowhere, unless you've been watching him put it together. His world runs on narrative logic. He is the Chosen One atop a burning tower, on a terrible quest. He's faltered a bit, at the last minute, because if you don't shake hands with Frodo Baggins on the way past you are not respecting your ancestors. He's aware of most of this because he's spent most of the season tiredly explaining to his travelling companions that, yes, the journey is a damn metaphor. He is backed by dozens of stories where people escaped at the last by determination, or connecting with their loved ones, or just ... not being all that interested in worshipping dark gods.

Magnus is dead. The entities are packing their bags and running for the exit. There is no one left to care what he does next – except Martin, who would also like a way out of this mess. He has spent years struggling to understand what kind of story he's in and what his role is supposed to be, but now he gets it and is finally, finally the person in the room with a bit of power.

He does not say "Maybe the girls will dig us out of the rubble and we can go home and pretend this never happened". That would be the best possible result for them, of course, but it wouldn't work. No one would believe it. But what he can do is follow the example of all the people that came before because, crucially, "Fuck it, I am not dying today because I don't want to" and "Look, this is the power of love and I am holding on to it in the face of the worst crap I have ever seen" really are the strategies that work. And now he's in the one moment of the story where there is no one else's story left to precede him. This is the only moment in the whole series where the story is really his, and he can decide what happens next.

And what happens next is a question. The question is "What happens next?" It is a thing that is ongoing, rather than a thing that has ended.

I've no doubt he created more problems for himself, and for Martin. You grab that narrative thread and you are literally asking for them: even the kindest of stories won't give you a "happily ever after" until you have solved The Problems. You would only pull that one if you were desperate, but under the circumstances it was probably warranted.

But maybe, this time, they can run ahead of the narrative instead of behind. That makes all the difference.

#the magnus archives

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teddypickerry · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓.

— pairings! jonathan byers x fem reader

— word count! 2.2k

— warnings! cursing & suggestive material. mostly just ‘i miss you’ ‘i miss you more’ ‘no i do’ blah blah

— summary! in which long distance sucks. but a phone call from your boyfriend might just save the day <33

LONG DISTANCE relationships are hard. everyone knows that. over forty percent of long distance relationships end in breakups... within five months. yeah. so you can imagine the difficulty and the pain that y/n felt as she watched her boyfriend move over a thousand miles away. the byers family had enough of the hurt and emptiness that the dark town had brought their family. so y/n was more than understanding of their move. but that didn't mean she liked it.

it had been three months since the byers moved and jonathan had yet to stick to his promise. his promise of phone calls every other day, even if he was busier than hell. y/n understood, he had moved to a whole new state and he was the man of the house he had always joked. jonathan had to deal with the stress of moving and coach his little brother, will, and new sister, eleven, through it. three months felt like an eternity however, y/n doubted she'd make it without her best friend here with her. sure she had steve, nancy, robin, and the kids but they all noticed her sad glances when she noticed the empty seat during movie nights. or sat alone in classes, as if jonathan's ghost were sat beside her.

"i'm sorry i haven't called," a voice rang into her ear as y/n sat on her bed, twirling the phone chord with her hand. "it's okay, jon. you've been busy. your mom's been telling me all about it."

"ugh, yeah. but i'm just... i'm sorry. i have no excuse really. i just miss you," he mumbled into the phone as he fell on his bed, pressing the phone to his ear as he imagined what his girlfriend was doing right now. he could picture her perfect smile and her pretty hair. and god he could practically smell her. "i miss you too."

"what are you doing right now?" jonathan asked his girlfriend, a smile tugging at his lips. "studying, i presume?"

y/n felt herself hold back a smile as she glanced over at the notes and books open on the end of her bed. her boyfriend knew her too well. "i don't know what you're talking about, byers." she could hear his chuckle on the other side of the line, wanting to reach through the phone and see the look on his face as he did so. "yeah, okay l/n."

there was a silence on both sides. as if they ran out of things to talk about, or began to think too hard what to talk about. y/n could only feel frightened at this. never once in her life did she not know what to say to jonathan except for when they were in seventh grade. when they were at stacy calmon's party and were dared to kiss. but that's a story for another time. "i went to a party last night with steve. he wanted me to pretend to be his sick sister so he could get laid."

"sounds like steve," jonathan humored as he cracked a smile. "who's party?" the thought of y/n at a party was always an interesting one. she had been to very few in her life, not having a desire to watch people she disliked get plastered and then procreate in a random person's bed. "noel may's. he has the good shit at his parties."

"noel's? that guys a dick. what are you doing hanging out with him?" y/n could hear her boyfriend's dismay in his voice as if she just told him the mind flayer was back. "well you don't know him. i mean yeah he was an ass freshman year but he's changed. steve and i have been hanging around him a lot lately."

"hm," jonathan hummed as he tried to avoid a frown. four months ago his girlfriend wouldn't even think of being within six feet of the popular jock who used to call her boyfriend slurs. he decided to give her the benefit of the doubt, considering how steve used to treat the couple and he now was someone who would never leave y/n's side. they were best friends and it seemed to be that way for the rest of eternity. "well if you like him..."

y/n could feel the judgement from her boyfriend's side. which only made her sigh as she made her way over towards her books. shutting them and placing them on top of her dresser. the only thing she could hear was her boyfriend's breaths on the other side of the line. jonathan also glanced around his room unsure what to say. when he noticed a picture of them framed from prom last year. he didn't want to go at all. but with convincing from his girlfriend and his mom, he was in a suit with a rose in his hand. and luckily for him, that night happened to be one of the best he ever had. it was the night he fell in love with her. "remember prom?"

"mhm and how much you didn't want to go," y/n smiled fondly as she turned to face the polaroid taped to her wall. 'Forever' jonathan had wrote on the frame of the small photo. his smile in it the biggest she had ever seen. she remembered nancy snapping the photo and running to hand it to her when it developed. y/n had never loved anything more. "but i had fun didn't i? you we're right as always."

"say that again," y/n joked in a seductive voice making jonathan spit out yet another chuckle on the other side. "i told you i loved you that night. i think i always loved you but... that night. it was the very first night i knew i loved you. the way you were laughing at my jokes in the car on the way to the motel. in the dress that looked absolutely perfect on you."

y/n remained silent as she reminisced on the evening, her eyes still locked on the photograph. "i'll always love you, y/n." jonathan smiled into the phone as the girl hummed. "this sounds like a breakup?" she humored as he laughed. "no, never."

"can i be honest?" she started to play with the phone chord nervously as jonathan furrowed his eyebrows from the other side of the line. "yeah..? see now this sounds like a breakup."

"well, the parties. i always go with steve or someone you know and... i just don't want to seem lonely. but they all know, i know they do. i see all their puppy dog sad eyes everytime i sit next to an empty seat. it's just not the same. i keep trying to fill the void of you not being here but... it doesn't work." y/n laid down, the phone against her ear. she could feel jonathan's sadness. there was a reason she didn't share her loneliness with him earlier, she didn't want him to feel bad. there was eventually a sigh on jonathan's side as he rubbed his face with his hand.

"do you know how much i miss you?" jonathan whispered as if he didn't want y/n to catch it. she closed her eyes. "i haven't made any friends here. that's kind of why i've been avoiding the talks. i just, i can't lie to you. and i knew you'd be all worried so i just... avoided. i'm sorry. i don't mean to leave you all alone."

"so we're just two lonely losers," y/n blurted out making both parties fall into a fit of laughter. she opened her eyes as she glanced over at the polaroid once more. "i wish i could fly. i'd just pick you up and we'd go back in time. before all of this crap we've been through. just back to the very first night we met. at the party."

"when we first kissed. i can practically taste your strawberry lipgloss.” the boy smiled fondly. the two both laid down silently as y/n glanced over at the clock. it was far past when she should be asleep but she didn't seem to mind. not when jonathan was on the other end. "what if i come visit you?" her midnight thoughts got the best of her as she mumbled into the phone. jonathan sat up as he furrowed his eyebrows. "you want to come here?"

"i know you wanted to come home for christmas and come visit everyone and you still should. but i just... i don't know it's stupid nevermind. i'll see you in a month and a half anyways." y/n sighed to herself as jonathan shook his head, as if she could see him. "no, no it's not stupid. i could never get enough of you. you could just come for a long weekend you know. thursday night and come home sunday night. three nights of you is all i've ever dreamed of."

"okay now that was a cringe line," y/n giggled as she smiled. jonathan did the same as he shook his head once more. "okay sorry. but really? you'd wanna come visit me here?"

"of course, jon. i want to see your new life. see where you, el, and will hangout. scope out if there's any girls that might try and steal you, you know the usual." y/n shrugged into the phone. "there's no girl ever who could ever take your place c'mon."

"yeah i know... what are you doing?" the girl questioned as she could hear her boyfriend rustling around. "grabbed the newspaper, looking at flights."

"you get the hawkins newspaper? not even the editor of the hawkins daily gets the hawkins daily." the girl laughed at her geeky boyfriend, fighting the urge to call him a major geek. "i like to be informed. shut up... there's one next weekend to the airport about an hour from here. this could work. the only problem is your dad."

"i'll just tell him i need to fly a thousand miles so i can get a shag," she smiled sweetly into the phone making jonathan jokingly scoff. "mhm, he'd love that. surely a yes."

"next weekend he's gonna be in sheffington for a meeting anyways. it seriously wouldn't be an issue. and robin can totally get me out of school on friday. she's a master at copying handwriting," y/n plotted as she smirked to herself. feeling her boyfriends excitement through the phone. "holy shit, i'm gonna see my girlfriend."

"holy shit, you're gonna see your girlfriend." y/n mocked making jonathan simply smile at the thought. "you still have to ask your mom and i still have to go buy the ticket tomorrow."

"well if you're getting the one here i'll get the one on the way back. no protest," jonathan added the end words, predicting his girlfriend's argument. she smiled at his words. "fine, you idiot. but don't just not buy it so you can hog me for a month. i'm very popular and well liked."

"oh trust me know. i had to wait in line for five hours on our first date to even speak to you." he humored. "i w- mom!"

"hi, sweetie! i haven't talked to you since last week. how are you doing?" the familiar and comforting voice of joyce byers filled y/ns ears as she giggled. "hi, joyce! i'm fine, thank you."

"mom give me the phone back and my girlfriend back, please and thank you." jonathan muttered from the other side of his mother as she gave him a pout before handing him the phone once more. "wait is it okay if y/n comes and stays with us next weekend? there's a flight on thursday night."

joyce lit up at this question immediately responding in an inevitable yes. this resulted in a five minute rivalry over a conversation with you. jonathan won in the ending shaking his head as joyce walked off to check on will. the teenager sighed, leaning against the table. "it's like midnight for you. go to bed."

"hm... no. try again later." y/n hummed, fighting off a yawn as she pulled the comforter over herself. "you're tired. sleep, please. i need a fully refreshed girlfriend for next weekend. we can't have a tired girl who can't stay up all night."

"staying up all night doing what?" she teased him as he pressed his lips together, watching his mother enter the room once more. "oh you know..." he awkwardly laughed. "just go to bed, m'kay? then you can spend all day tomorrow bragging to our friends about how you're gonna see me."

"mh.... fine. but only because i want to not because you're telling me," y/n nodded as jonathan smiled at his girlfriend's sureness. "love you."

"gonna dream of that long hair of yours that i've yet to see."

"oh shush."

#jonathan byers x reader #jonathan byers #stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #joyce byers #will byers #robin buckley #stranger things fic #charlie heaton #jonathon byers #jonathon byers x reader

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girlwholovesturtles · 4 months

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Okay, a bit of a long pause- Oh, hi Tim, and Martin too. I missed you two. Not gonna lie, I'm vibing with Tim. I kinda agree with him. This is all kind of fucked up.

Yes, exactly! They didn't know anything about Michael because Jon never told them and very likely he still hasn't told them. It could have gotten them killed, hell, maybe it should have gotten them killed. It's kind of hard to say really. Jon needs to involve everyone at the Archive at this point because everyone is in danger.

Hm, okay, now I'm not totally siding with Tim. Yes, Jon should have talked with his team, he should have trusted them, but it most certainly isn't Jon's fault that they're stuck like this. And Sasha's death is even less his fault. I get that he's hurt and upset but Jon didn't know about any of this stuff. If they're gonna be mad at anyone, it should be Elias at this point.

"If you're that eager..." is Martin talking to the Eye or the Archive at this point? Like I agree but he could totally just turn the recorder off and go about his day, same as Tim.

Algernon Moss. That sure is a name.

This man really outbid someone out of spite. How much money did you just throw away just to mess with an old blind man?

"Pray the Sandman only brings you sleep." Yeah, that feels like a threat.

Hm, this dude's father is making him make more sense. Hurt people hurt people and tools tend to raise tools.

"Positively ghoulish..." How very posh of you to say.

Okay, is this Sandman the Distortion or the shadow god?

Wait, yeah, Maxwell Rayner does sound familiar. I think he's the dude who's been brought up a few times, buying and selling possibly magic wares. I wish I could remember more about him but I refuse to look him up any further then how to spell his name. I get spoiled on things every time I try to look up something I already know and I'm trying to avoid anything further.

Oh, is Melanie gonna be doing more of these records? Looking forward to that. The VA is very good, so it would be nice to hear more from her.

"Are you afraid of getting fired." Oh wow, she's right. Elias firing them may very well be the best out come, wouldn't it?

Melanie... watcha doin? Um... did you try to poison this man?

"I don't know everything. Do you know how exhausting that would be?" I'm sorry? Do you... do you have experience there, Elias? What is your deal, man?!

"You get used to it." What?! So the tapes start themselves now? And Elias is just cool with this. I don't think I would try to kill this man but I do think I would try to beat him up at this point because oh my god!

#the magnus archives #tma #live blogging #episode 98 #long post

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duckuwu · 1 year

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this is everyone's warning, i'm giving superman & lois another go. yes yes i know i was starting the descent into deep space nine last week, but i've been told by multiple different people who i dont really know, but who are professional writers and / or house of el people, that i'm missing out as a house of el fan for not watching.

i explained to them (yes all of them) that it was just too depresso in the beginning so i gave up trying.

but apparently all i needed was to get to episode 4. lol jfc.

...honestly, the tipping point was the guy who works at the comic book store i prefer. a couple weeks ago i went in to buy the Dreamer one off comic. and he saw it, as he was ringing it up, and went off on his love for dreamer. and how adorable son of kal is. especially jon's moment coming out to his father. (and also the moment where dreamer lets jon know his dad's okay). and i was like 'i like this guy'

then this past weekend i went in hopes of getting a physical copy of supergirl: woman of tomorrow. (they didnt have it. in fact, me asking for it made them realize that it's been out for a year and they were horrified at not knowing that AND at not having the book. adorable.((it's a fantastic graphic novel btw. just in general. but especially if you love the house of el, and especially if you love kara))) his friend was hanging out and had been looking for the individual issues. so the three of us instantly bonded. i ended up leaving with a different supergirl book.

anyway he's ringing me up and somehow the tv show gets brought up and we both agree that there was so much missed potential. that the quality diminished once it went to the cw. and then he asked if i was watching superman & lois and i was like 'no.' AND HE LOOKED SO HORRIFIED AND BETRAYED. (he even said he felt so betrayed by this information lol)

and anyway i eventually got him to understand how i do love hoechlin in the role, and i tried watching it, but it was just too depresso. and it clicked and he was like 'oh, yeah no it gets way better. give it another go'

and that's where we are, some random adorable guy in a spiderman tee, who i know loves the house of el as much as i do, telling me i need to give it another go. lol

we'll see how long this random friendship lasts... will it break if i inform him of my dislike for the last guy who played superman in the movies? (listen. it was a combination of the actor and the tone of kal's story. okay. i could've put up w the actor if they were at least getting kal right) or will we bond further.

it's funny 'cause i'd been feeling quite lonely lately. a need to somehow go out and meet people and make friends. and like i'm not saying this was / is that. i mean who knows. but it's just a bit surprising to unexpectedly run into someone who is just having a blast being who he is. honestly most of the people i've met out here are actually quite nice and genuine people.

and it's weird to recognize my envy at how freely they're giving their love and sharing their joy w/ the world. like i was working remote for years before the covid happened, and i'd try to go out and make friends at board game events or whatever (it was in a different location) and it was hard. people weren't really particularly nice either. they were either there to compete or sell things. anyway. i moved and just became quite isolated. i've got the three people i know irl here, and they're great i love them, but also like... i need to expand my pool. lol

i'm an introvert but i thrive off of being around other people. and but also it really would be nice to get a significant other, you know, an eventual spousey. a teammate for life as i like to think of it.

anywho i've been kinda sadge lately. (and apparently dealing with high bloodpressure issues) so happening across these friendly and helpful and kind guys in a comic book store really was a nice surprise and pick me up. but also super refreshing to just talk about something you love with complete strangers and know they understand and feel the same way. that's just neat.

#duck thoughts #rambles about life under the cut

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writing-blog-iguess · 3 years

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Hi, can I request a fluff and angst fanfic about Damian x female reader? In which they're into an engagement mainly for business, but Y/N was insecure about it because she's a chubby cinnamon roll (which she didn't realise at all), and she felt left out by the entire Bat family. And so, during a true or dare between entire Batfam and their friends, Jon asked for Damian's type and he reply almost like a hint about Y/N, leaving his teammates wanting to see Y/N. They did later saw her, but somehow one of them said they didn't know Damian would fall into love with this kind of girl, which hurt Y/N unconsciouy and she ended up wanting to end the engagement. Damian chased after her and calm her down with Harley and Ivy Poison stop by and scolding the entire Batfam and League of how much they made their little angel felt leftout and threaten dear Robin that they would hunt him down if he's not gonna say anything clearly!!! AHHHHHH!!!!!!!! I really like Harley Quinn and Ivy Poison!!!!

I'm so sorry for how long this took me, but I couldn't stop thinking about it when I read this request! Anyways, I hope this is what you were looking for and I hope you enjoy it!

Life wasn’t fair, she knew this. Had known this as she grew up. But there was a small part of her that hoped that life would go her way once she was old enough to make her own choices.

But that hope was stomped down when she started high school and her parents planned out her future. The only good thing she got out of it, was that she was allowed to pick her minor when it was time to start university.

Throughout the years, she avoided the questions from the press and her friends when she suddenly became friends with Damian Wayne. The only ones to know about the arranged marriage between the two, were her family and the Wayne’s.

It was in an agreement that when they finished school, they would announce their engagement.

There was nothing wrong with it, but as she started to get to know the Wayne’s, she felt a little out of place. Like there was an inside joke or something that she wasn’t allowed to know. She knew people had secrets, she even had secrets. But sometimes it hurts.

Laugher broke through her thoughts, blinking at her phone. She dialed a friend’s number and brought the phone to her ear. As she waited for them to pick up, she couldn’t help but overhear the group of boys’ conversation.

“I didn’t think he’d actually answer,” someone said, after his laughter died down.

“Well, the rules say he had to answer so,” another said with a shrug.

“I’m more surprised by the type of girls Damian’s into.” She frowned, and watched them from the corner of eye. They must be some of Damian’s friends, she thought.

“You mean like that?” someone asked, gesturing to her. She frowned and furrowed her eyebrows as she listened to them talk.

She hung her head as her mood soured as they continued talking. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the prettiest looking, but she never thought Damian would be so swallow to go for someone that wasn’t her.

“Pumpkin,” a voice said, shaking her out of her thoughts. “You there?”

“Uh, yeah, yeah I am,” she answered, shaking her head and shifting her eyes forward. “I uh, I’m going to have to do a rain check tonight. Something came up.”

“Sure, I’ll tell Red. Let us know when you can, okay?”

“I will, thanks Harls.”

Later that day, she stood in front of the mirror, turned to look at her body. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t the skinniest or the prettiest person. But she liked to think her personality more then made up her looks.

And well, she never really talked to Damian about it. Why he had agreed to marry her, or at the least, broke it off if she wasn’t someone he wasn’t into.

She tugged her shirt down and sighed. Maybe it was time to end it. It’s been nine years since the start of the engagement, and it wasn’t fair to Damian for being sucked into her parents' deals.

Making up her mind, she brought out some paper and pen and began writing. Once she finished, she stuffed it in an envelope, along with the ring and sealed it. Making a quick decision, she grabbed her keys and left for Wayne Manor.

When she arrived, she spent a few minutes just sitting in the car, wondering if she’d have to talk to Damian. That was the last thing she needed, for him to talk her out of it.

Taking a deep breath, she climbed out of the car and made her way towards the door. She reached out and knocked on the door. She rocked on her feet as she waited, hoping Alfred would be the one to answer.

And her hopes were answered when she saw the family butler standing in the doorway. “Miss L/N, I wasn’t aware that you were dropping by. Shall I go announce that you’re here?”

“That’s okay Allred, I only came to drop something for Damian,” she answered with a small smile.

“I’m afraid he isn’t here at the moment,” he said, and she sighed in relief.

“That’s fine,” she said, and held up the envelope for him to take. “Can you, uh, can you give this to him when he gets back?”

Alfred frowned at the envelope she held, and she looked down. She was getting a little uncomfortable under his stare, and wondered if he'd say something that would change her mind.

“Of course,” he said, taking the envelope from her grasp. “Is there something you’d wish for me to tell him?”

“That’s okay,” she said, looking up to him. He gave her a sad smile and wondered if he knew what was inside. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around Alfred. And thank you for everything.”

“My pleasure, Miss L/N. I hope to see you soon,” he replied. She hesitated and stepped forward to give him a hug. He tensed at first and returned it, squeezing her a little tightly. “I’m sure you’ll be missed.”

“Thanks.”

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since she wrote the letter, two weeks of ignoring Damian’s attempts to talk. Two weeks of listening to her mother whine about the broken engagement, and her father’s belittling her about how she ruined everything. Two weeks of Harley and Ivy pestering her until she finally told them why.

“But you love him!” Harley exclaimed, moving to sit beside Y/N on the couch. “I don’t understand why you ended it, Pumpkin.”

Y/N rubbed her face and sighed, wishing they would just drop it. But they didn’t and kept going. “Because look at me!” she finally snapped. Moving off the couch, she faced the two and gestured to herself.

“I don’t look like someone Damian would marry! I’m not pretty or…or…I’m not a supermodel. And besides, I feel like I don’t even fit in with the Wayne family. I mean, look at the family. They all have looks and great personalities, they’re fun and adventurous, and their lives are amazing. And then...and then there’s me who’s just boring and average who could care less about adventure. I’m just...meh.”

She paused, wrapping her arms around her waist, trying to make herself small. It’s the first time she said her thoughts out loud. It felt a little freeing, but it still hurt.

“The only reason why we were even engaged was for a stupid business deal my dad struck with Bruce Wayne. I would like to add that Mr. Wayne didn’t even look that interested in the arrangement, and neither did Damian,” she finished, deflating a little. Finally telling someone about the arrangement.

“Oh flower,” Ivy said, standing up and pulling her into a hug. “If he can’t love you for who you are or only cares about looks, then he doesn’t deserve you. You should marry for love, so you made the right choice.”

She rested her head on Ivy and sighed. “But it wouldn’t have been a loveless marriage,” she whispered, “I love him, it would make it a one-sided loveless marriage.”

She felt Harley join the hug and she closed her eyes as tears started to form.

“You never cared about your looks before,” Harley mused, playing with Y/N’s hair. “What brought this on?”

Y/N opted to stay quiet and shook her head. Ivy called her name and she sighed. She knew they wouldn’t stop until she answered, and she was afraid of what they would do. This time, Harley called her name, but firmer. “Okay fine, but you can’t do anything stupid.”

Harley scoffed and pulled away to poke Y/N’s nose. “When have I ever?” She gave Harley a look and she just giggled. “Okay, so maybe there were a few times but I’m not letting you off the hook. So, spill.”

She rubbed her face and groaned. “I overheard Damian’s friends talk about how they couldn’t see him falling in love with someone like me. And they're right, I’m fat, and plain looking.”

“You are not fat,” Ivy said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re a little chuddy yes, but you're healthy and that’s all anyone can ask for.”

“What she said,” Harley agreed as she walked out of the room. She came back a moment later with her mallet. “Come on Red, we’ve got work to do.”

“What? No!” she called as the two made their way to the door. “You promised!” But it fell on deaf ears as she watched her two parental figures leave the apartment. Mumbling a string of curses, she took out her phone and sent out a message.

Damian ignored everyone in the room, and frowned at his phone. He stared at the two words like it was mocking him. It’d been two weeks of silence from her and the first words she sends him is I’m sorry?

Scoffing, he typed out a reply and just before he could press send, the door slammed open.

There was a collective gasp around the room as they watched two of Gotham’s sirens walk into the living room.

“Man, and here I thought we were going to have a quiet night,” Garth complained, leaning back against the couch.

“That’s what you get when you say ‘sure is a quiet night,’” Jon mocked, Garth made a face at him but chose not to say anything.

“What do you want, Harley?” Bruce asked tiredly. Damian had a faint feeling that this isn’t the first time Harley barged into the manor.

Harley pointed her mallet at the boys and smirked as they squirmed a little. Damian narrowed his eyes, wondering if there’s going to be a fight or not.

“A little birdie told me that you are making fun of girls like Y/N,” she said. Damian’s eyes widened in surprise. They knew Y/N? But she’s never mentioned that. But then again, there are things he hasn’t told her yet.

“Y/N?” Wally asked, confused. He wasn’t the only one, one look around the room told Damian that no one knew who she was talking about. “Don’t know who that is.”

“Mhm, that’s okay. She knows who you are though. And she’s told us what you’ve said,” Harley continued, “about how you don’t see Damian marrying someone who’s chubby, who is a bit self-conscious about who they are. Which leads me…” she trailed off and pointed her mallet at the Wayne boys.

They narrowed their eyes and watched closely to see what she might do next. Their eyes were especially on Ivy. She hasn’t said much during Harley’s speech. But her glare spoke volumes.

“Why is it whenever Y/N comes home from hanging out with Damian and everyone here, she’s sad?” Harley asked, and the boys widened as they realized who they were talking about.

“You’re talking about Y/N? Damian’s fiancé?” Jason asked. Wally, Gath and Jon’s head whipped around to look at Damian.

“You’re engaged?!”

Damian chose to ignore them and narrowed his eyes at the two. “What do you mean she’s sad? And how do you know?”

“Exactly that,” Ivy said with a shrug. “She didn’t tell us until today, but we knew there was something wrong. Said that she felt like she didn’t fit in, like you just didn’t care that she was there.”

Okay, so she didn’t say it in so many words, but that’s what Ivy got out of it.

She watched and listened as the Wayne boys tried to defend themselves. She raised her hand and they stopped talking.

“Is that why she ended the engagement?” Damian asked.

“She did what?” Damian’s brothers asked in unison. He didn’t answer and Ivy nodded.

“Better go fix it, baby bird,” Harley said, pointing at Damian.

Not needed to be told twice, Damian stood and left, ignoring the protest of his friends and family. He chuckled when he heard the groans of everyone as Harley and Ivy started their lecture on why you shouldn’t talk bad about people you don’t know.

It’s been twenty minutes since Ivy and Harley left, and she can’t help but wonder what they’re doing. She had almost followed them, but decided against it. She’ll wait until they get back for the answers.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she looked up from her book in confusion. Harley and Ivy would have just walked in, and she wasn’t expecting anyone to come over.

Setting the book on the couch, she got up and made her way to the door. Her eyes narrowed as she saw who it was through the peephole. She bit her lip and debated on whether or not she should open the door.

“I know you’re in there, Y/N,” Damian said. He sounded tired, like he hasn’t been sleeping lately. “Can I come in, please? We need to talk.”

Sighing, she unlocked the door. He looked as tired as he sounded. She stepped aside and waited until he was inside before closing the door.

“You didn’t tell me you knew Harley and Ivy,” he said after a few minutes of silence. She shrugged, keeping her attention on the door as she answered him.

“I met them when I was in grade 10,” she mumbled, “was running from someone and I asked for their help. Since then, they’ve kind of adopted me.”

“Do your parents know?”

She shook her head. “I don’t think they would care.”

Damian snorted, turning around to look at her. She was still refusing to look at him. “I think they would care if their only daughter was hanging around with Gotham’s most wanted.”

“No, I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t,” she argued. “They were the ones who signed my life away. I mean, the whole engagement was because of a business deal.” She hadn’t meant to, but she let the bitterness seep into her voice. “Whatever, it doesn’t matter anyways.”

Damian flinched as she dismissed it, and reached out to grab her arm. She tensed but didn’t pull away, Damian took that as a good sign, and turned her around. She let him, but kept her gaze on his chest.

“My friends are stupid,” Damian stated, surprising her. “We were playing truth or dare and I was asked what my type of a girl was. I didn’t think your first meeting with them would end our engagement. I wished you would have talked to me about it though, instead of that.”

She hung her in shame. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I just, I don’t know. On top of what your friends said, and the whole arranged marriage thing, I didn’t want to marry someone who doesn’t love me back.”

She froze when she realized what she said. She shut her eyes, and covered her face with her hands, willing the flush on her cheeks to go away. But it didn’t.

“You love me?” Damian asked, and she could hear the smirk. She didn’t say anything, she just nodded. “Why didn’t you say anything?” She shrugged. Damian huffed out a laugh, and gently pried her hands off her face. When she still didn’t look up, he grabbed her chin and tilted her head up. “I love you too.”

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him dumbfounded. He gave her a soft smile and leaned forward a little, resting his forehead on hers. “I love the way you are now, and I wouldn’t change anything about you.”

“Do you really mean that?” she asked quietly. So quietly, he almost didn’t catch it. He nodded.

“With all my heart.”

She looked at him, looking to see if he was lying. When all she found was the truth, she closed the distance and kissed him. She bundled up his shirt as he cupped her cheeks gently. She put all her love into that kiss, and he eagerly matched her pace.

When they needed air, she pulled back and smiled when he followed after her.

“So, does that mean we can get married now?” Damian asked. She pretended to think about it, and he poked her sides a little.

“I guess so,” she answered with a laugh. He pulled her into a hug, which she returned, nuzzling her face in his shirt. “Are we still waiting until we’re done with school?”

“Would give us time to get to know each other. Really get to know each other,” he added when she was about to say something. “And maybe this time around, you’ll feel like you fit in with my family.”

“Wow, they left nothing out, did they?” she questioned. Damian chuckled and kissed the top of her head. “I love you, Damian.”

“I love you too.”

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne #bruce wayne #harley quinn #poison ivy #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #wally west #jon kent #garth logan #beastboy #batman imagine #dc imagine #requested by anon #my writing

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dathen · 3 years

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Okay I have some complicated thoughts following Melanie’s arc that all build on top of each other and hinge HEAVILY on unreliable narrator interpretations so bear with me

In my relisten I’m at the beginning of s3, and it always shocks me a bit at how quickly she interprets Martin’s interaction with her as hostile. I’m going to skip over the “it’s understandable, Melanie’s had a hard time in her career” disclaimers since there’s plenty of meta on that already, and instead follow the effects of this tendency: not on others, this time, but on her

(This got absurdly long and covers so many episodes so I’m going to split it into separate pre- and post-bullet surgery posts)

Rewinding a bit, the last time she was at the Institute, she was starting to get along with Jon before he seemed confused about her comment on “the other Sasha.” It takes her a split second to interpret that confusion as him suddenly deciding to gaslight and mock her, gets angry and tells him there is something seriously wrong with him, and leaves before he can ask what she means. Given how tenuous their truce was and the fact she and Jon had mocked each other in the past, it’s an outburst that at least has some personal history behind it.

But only a couple episodes later, we learn that it’s not just Jon she responds to in this way. In TMA 84, she meets our Martin Blackwood! Customer service voice opposite-of-Jon politeness extraordinaire! And as soon as he gets confused about the two Sasha comment, she.......immediately assumes that HE is also trying to gaslight her. She insists that “I’m not doing this again” without giving him a chance to ask or explain, so they miss the opportunity to piece together the deal with the Not!Sasha. Her doing this with someone she just met shows a much broader pattern than her interactions with Jon.

That very episode, Elias offers Melanie a job, and she accepts despite Martin’s protests. Later, she accuses them all of them being an “old boy’s club” because she interpreted Martin’s warnings as sexism rather than trying to protect her. As the audience, we see the unreliable narrator of her perspective at work: we know that Jon and Martin were genuinely confused, and we know that Martin was trying to save her, and that all of these instances were her seeing it as people being out to get her.

Hop forward to the notorious gossip scene in TMA 106. Here, Melanie complains about Martin being hostile to her. My first assumption was that this was all offscreen, but after this parade of misinterpretation and comparing to her and Martin’s actual interactions, I have to wonder:

TMA 84, after Martin tells Melanie about the murder, and right before Elias interrupts:

Martin: Are you sure you’re alright?

Melanie: Yes! I just got… God, I’m kind of at the end, you know?

Martin: The end of what?

Melanie: Everything. Friends, clues, savings. Everything. Options. There’s nowhere left for me to go . I don’t know why, but… I just, I just felt that perhaps coming here might help. And talking things out with Jon. I mean, I mean he’s awful, but at least he listens, you know?

Martin: (soft) Yeah. ...I’m sorry. Um, is there anything that I could, like, maybe...do for you?

They get interrupted immediately after this, so this was the first impression Melanie was given. Then, when Elias offers the job, she...assumes Martin’s “I don’t think that’s a good idea” is from sexism, when he’d just been talking about murders and disappearances that caused that very job opening.

TMA 88

Melanie: Are you alright?

Martin: Yeah… Sorry, just a lot of change recently, y’know. You and John and Sasha and… everything’s gone a bit wrong. It’s the not knowing, you know? I mean, Jon’s still alive. Not sure why, but I’m sure of that. But Sasha, I…

Melanie: Yes, it’s… it’s probably, um…

Martin: Sorry, sorry, I’m... What do you need?

Next interaction! Oh this one HURTS. Martin takes her question literally, and starts telling her why she’s not alright, a reverse of their earlier exchange. But Melanie came by for a question and wasn’t prepared for an honest answer, so Martin quickly reels it in and asks what he can do for her once again.

Skipping forward a bit in that same scene:

Martin: Oh, you weren’t here when we took the place over from Gertrude! It’s been over a year just to get it like this. I mean, I think the database was on Jon’s list, but--

Melanie: So how do you track someone down?

Martin: Oh, oh well, y’know, we’ve a few contacts in various record offices around the place. Aside from that it’s just… just a bit of detective work, really. Tim used to do a great line in impersonating people to utility companies! Heh, the number of times he got them to give him ‘his own’ address--

Melanie: Right, right… Um, this one, the name is 'Jude Perry.’ Doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?

I LOVE THIS EXCHANGE. I TREASURE IT. Having bottled up his emotions, Martin is going in full Friendly Helpful Coworker mode. There are so many little details here signaling that he’s embracing her as part of the team, sharing anecdotes about Tim’s shenanigans and Jon’s old plans, looping her in as One of Them as he helps her get what she needs. This is the kind of approach you go to management trainings to get, to help new hires feel welcome and part of things. But alas, Melanie is in a hurry and wants to cut to the chase, so all this is lost on her.

TMA 98 - I won’t copy it all in here because it’s long, but this is an overwhelmingly positive interaction. She asks if he’s okay, but he bottles it up and says he’s fine. This time, she presses, and he admits it’s because of the statements. Martin ends up asking for help!! and Melanie agrees! She’s on the way to murder Elias, but she still gets credit for “I’ll ask him to cut you some slack.” Then she invites him to drinks!

And then.... TMA 106

Melanie: Anyway, Martin’s always been lovely to you.

Basira: Hmm. I don’t know, I mean, you should have seen him when I turned up last year. I think he thought I was trying to steal his precious Archivist.

Melanie: Ahhh. I got the exact same when Jon was hiding out, and came to me with his “source on the inside” stuff. Martin was not impressed.

WAIT WHAT

We just looked over all their interactions! They were all soft and lovely and welcoming!! But then we hear Melanie with “well unlike how he is to me, Martin is nice to you.” This was taken at face value for years, but when you line up all of the above, I feel there is a strong basis to say this is another case of Melanie’s first impressions + over-defensiveness gone wrong. Just like we saw her initial bickerings with Jon solidify into series-long hostility, her interpreting Martin’s confusion as gaslighting and warnings about the job as sexism seems to have doomed her opinion of him long-term. We hear Martin being kind and concerned and welcoming, then hear Melanie contrast it as bad treatment.

Recently, a mutual considered this even further to how she talked about losing all of her friends with the Ghost Hunt UK circles:

Melanie: Even back then, I could feel all my old friends starting to distance themselves from me. ... I stopped asking the others for help, and I kept my research to myself. I talked to them less and less. By the time I was arrested, I think a lot of them had already given up on me.

I have to wonder...did this sort of dynamic play out here, too? Did she assume that her friends’ concern was judgment or hostility? Were they giving up on her, or did she lash out and push them away? Either way, it’s easy to see parallels to s2 Jon in her description, here, with her withdrawing and diving alone into increasingly risky research without asking for help. And s2 Jon definitely shared Melanie’s tendency to see offers for help and support as hostile. (Aside: I interpret her and Georgie as not very close at this point, like a networking contact rather than a friend; Melanie comes to Jon for someone to talk to about her struggles above her, and Georgie seems to be unaware of all of Melanie’s encounters pre-s3)

And on that downer note I am ending part 1...but PART 2 IS GOING TO BE WAY HAPPIER THAN THIS. Here, we see Melanie with a lot of people who would have supported her if she let them: Martin, Jon, possibly the friends she said abandoned her. But in her effort to protect herself and not let history repeat for how she’d been hurt in the past, she ends up alone and spiraling.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #melanie king #tma meta #I had to stop myself from just rambling All Melanie Feelings in Every Direction to stay on track #but hoo boy writing this gave me a lot of feelings for the martin melanie friendship that could have been

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dontbipanicjonsa · 3 years

Text

Did Kit suddenly lose his ability to heart-eye or is Pol!Jon actually a thing.

I'm late to the fandom but I just finished S7 and I'm having thoughts.

I'm a reader of the books, and I hadn't watched the show till now because... I suck at watching shows with hour long episodes and more than three seasons.

What made me decide to watch it was the Pol!Jon discourse I found on the Internet.

I know enough about the show to understand how unlikely and out of character this theory would seem to show watchers. At the same time, I fully believe that book!Jon would be fully capable of something like this. But also, even though I do ship Jonsa in the books, I can't deny that Jonerys is.....a big deal. Everyone expects it to happen. It's a highly anticipated pairing and....I just couldn't honestly believe Pol!Jon because it is just so against the general expectation.

So I decided to watch the show. And now I've finished season 7 and I am astounded.

Let me preface this by saying that I went into S7 already disliking Jonerys (sue me) but I still fully expected to have some serious doubts about the validity of Jonsa. I fully expected to be at least somewhat convinced of Jonerys. Even hating the idea of Jon and Danaerys together, I still expected more.

There are a number of things I would like to note here.

First, Jonerys is a romance that is told, not shown. Davos talks about Jon watching Dany's "good heart" (hehe) to tell us Jon is attracted to Dany. But then Jon immediately dismisses it- and not in a way that looks like he's deflecting. He's not only dismissing it, he's dismissive of it. His mind is not in the conversation, it is beyond the Wall.

Similarly, Tyrion says (not in those words), "yeah right, and Jon only looks at you longingly coz he wants a military alliance with you". Not sure what I'm supposed to think about that....? First, Jon doesn't look at Dany longingly at all???? Not once. Second, is this line supposed to suggest that Jon is looking at her longingly for a reason that is not desperately wanting a military alliance....? Because we already know that that's exactly what he does want. Wtf do I make of this statement?????

There are other examples, but the point remains. People keep talking about Jon and Dany being into each other, and that is what is supposed to convince us that they are into each other (well yea Dany is) but Jon gives no indication of looking at her longingly, of falling in love with her, of being intrigued by her even. He's a brick wall.

Alright, I'll concede one (1) scene where I saw legitimate attraction on his face for a second- that is the cave scene. Even there tho, it's hard to tell if he's just watching her reaction carefully or if he wants to bang her.

On the other hand, Dany shows that she is into him. Even so, when I say she's into him, I mean she's attracted to him and intrigued by him. I cannot believe she loves him.

Next, I think it's interesting that in the episode before (or was it the same episode?) Jon bends the knee, we have a number of people (Tormund, Beric) talk about stuff like- kings not bending the knee leading to people dying, knowing what's important (the fight against the dead), being the shield that guards the realm of men blah blah I don't remember the exact words. Then he sees the WW and the Army of the Dead (again) and sees a dragon die. And then, the first opportunity he gets, he bends the knee. I want to point out here that the scenes really emphasise on Jon's thinking face after every conversation he has during their little gay party beyond the Wall. They focus on the look on his face again while he's watching the Army. Multiple times. And there's clearly something going on in his head, gears are turning.

One other scene that struck me is the scene where Jon and Dany are saying goodbye to each other (the Eastwatch episode). In the same episode (if I remember correctly) Jon calls them strangers, and then the goodbye scene comes and Dany says to Jon's little morbid joke, "I've grown used to him". Him being Jon. Two things to note here-

One, Jon considers them strangers but Dany has gotten "used to him". Maybe it's nothing, or maybe it's an indication of how the two of them are absolutely not on the same page (about anything).

Second, Jon's face after she says that. It shuts down. Like a door slamming. And then he says that "wish you good fortune in the wars to come" line, which has ZERO romance, or longing, but a whole lot of bad precedent (does that make sense?). Ouch. The thought that occured to me here is that Dany is being somewhat obvious about her feelings, and maybe, just maybe Jon has picked up on it. And that is why he reacts the way he does.

I wasn't sure so I compared the scene with the Jonsa forehead kiss scene in S6, and Jon's expressions after that kiss.

My logic was this- I assume that either Jon has become aware of Dany's feelings in the Eastwatch goodbye scene, or his own feelings for her. One of these assumptions is true. Which one?

If Jon has feelings for Sansa, then his confusion/awareness/discomfort regarding that are seen in that forehead kiss scene. So if Jon has become aware of his feelings for Dany, let's see how these two scenes compare?

My dudes. There is no comparison. Go watch it.

I watched both scenes with sound off, and the difference is insane. Jon looks at Sansa's lips. There's a moment's pause that's full of tension, and then his face shuts in a way, but it's a bit confused, a bit thoughtful.

Jon does not look at Dany's lips. He does not look confused, or thoughtful. This is not a romance.

Side observation- speaking of showing and telling, it's funny how we're shown Jon looking at Sansa's wolf bits, and told that Jon looks at Dany's good heart. Yes I'm talking about boobs but wolf bits and good heart is funnier. We literally see Jon look at the wolf bits twice, talk about it himself, in a completely unnecessary conversation...as opposed to being entirely dismissive of the good heart, even when someone else brings it up.

Back to the main point, one last thing I'd like to talk about is the scene where Jon actually bends the knee (not really). First, there are still no heart-eyes. Definitely not from Jon. Second, it's funny how Jon uses the exact hand-grabbing move that Sansa used on him last season, when she was trying to convince him to do something he didn't particularly wanna do (like he's now trying to do with Dany). This means that

1) he learnt that move from Sansa. He knows how effective it is XD

2) if the Jonerys hand-grab is romance, it stands to reason that the Jonsa hand-grab is romance too. I mean both the grabs are suspiciously similar.

Then, even after Dany "promises" that she'll help the North fight the WW, Jon still bends the knee. I felt both an odd sense of urgency coming from him, and an understandable hesitation. Or maybe that's just me.

Now suddenly, he becomes complimentary of her. But there's something weird about his compliments. They are completely generic. "They'll see you for what you are" and in the later episode, "you're not like the others". Wtf does that MEAN ??

Here's the thing...Jon could have paid Dany a way more specific, genuine sounding compliment after bending the knee (complete with heart eyes). I mean she did just fly over the Wall to rescue him and his men. He could have said more, something meaningful, but he didn't. He bent the knee like a house on fire (that doesn't make sense but you get what I mean I hope) and paid generic compliments. Then he pretended to sleep until she left and then sighed very loudly.

??? Romance??? WHERE????

Then the dragon pit. Heart-eyes still missing.

Then the sex scene. What do I say? Lol.

No really. There are no heart eyes even during the sex scene. Honestly, idk what that face was. Not in love for sure.

Another side note- Arya and Sansa have talks while standing in the same place where the forehead kiss scene happened (wtf do you call that place again, the bridge.??) But no heart eyes. No lingering looks. There is no incestuous gay love between them, I can say for sure. All it does is prop up the odd incestuous vibes of the Jon Sansa scene in that same place.

ANOTHER side note- goddamn but does Sansa talk about Jon a lot.

Edit: I'm sure most of this stuff has already been discussed in other metas. My purpose here is only to put down my first thoughts after watching the season.

#jonsa meta #jonsa #political jon #pol!jon #dark dany

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gentlemancrow · 3 years

Note

14: “I’m screwed” shippy JMart :) 💚

Ehehe this one got away from me a little bit! But ask for shippy Jmart get a gushy mooshy Crow! Please enjoy! ; w ;

“I’m screwed…”

Martin watched helplessly through the slats of the yellowed blinds on Jon’s office window as his entire life went up in flames. He dimly recalled some trite old saying about seeing one’s life flash before one’s eyes before the moment of unceremonious besmirching from the cruel mortal coil, but for him it was more of a hysterical repeated rewinding of every single bumbling misstep that had orchestrated his imminent demise.

From the moment he decided he had just enough time before work to pop into the Tesco for the usual bouquet of flowers for his visit to his mother later in the day, to the snap decision to get the one made of tulips, bright crimson, orange, and yellow like a flame, rather than the usual white lilies, all the way up to entering the institute, Elias stuffing a file for Jon in his already laden arms, and then the chaos that had erupted as he attempted to deliver it, he lived it all over again. First there was something about the kettle being on the fritz, and obviously since he used it the most frequently, clearly he knew how to repair errant electronic kitchen devices. He was halfway through chastising Tim for false equivalencies in his logic when Sasha had breezed past and asked for a report he’d supposed to be finished with the day prior, and somewhere in the snarking with Tim and the flailing over his dereliction of duty the flowers had been abandoned on Jon’s desk and the file tucked under his arm instead.

By the time Martin realized he was missing something bulky and crinkly and fragrant it was too late. Jon was already in his office, tatty messenger bag still looped around his chest, forgotten, staring at the fiery bouquet on his desk with the scientific method scrolling visibly through his pupils as he regarded it like a corpse on an autopsy table, hand in a fist with his thumb pressed to his lips. Martin had never wished harder for some sort of horrific creature of the darkness to strike the institute again and just devour him whole this time to put him out of his misery.

“You’re what, mate?” Tim’s adjacent query only intensified that desire.

“Tim! SHUSH!” he squeaked, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and hauling him out of the line of sight from the office window.

“Easy there, big guy!” he laughed, “What’s all the hullabaloo?”

“I’m SCREWED. Big time,” Martin moaned, burying his face, which had been bright scarlet since the moment his hubris had roosted, into his hands, “See those flowers in there? I bought those for my usual trip to see my mum this afternoon but somehow between you being an idiot and me also being an idiot and forgetting to finish that report I sort of… left them there… by accident…”

Jon, meanwhile, had finally set his bag down and had circled his desk like a vulture. He reached out with delicate fingers like forceps and pinched the very edge of the card to inspect it, which, unfortunately, only added to the mystery with its coquettish blankness, as Martin had yet to fill it in. Tim watched, nonplussed.

“So? What’s the big deal about that? Just go explain it to him and I’m sure he… Oh. OH,” he cackled as realization dawned on him, “Yeah, nope you’re screwed.”

“Thanks…”

“Ahh, don’t sweat it. The man’s so thick I’m sure he thinks it’s just a prank or some continued spooky attempt on his life or something. The absolute last thing he would think would be that you of all people would…” Tim stopped himself in the withering blue glare blazing at him from behind round spectacles, “Anyway, again, this is Jon we’re talking about. He’ll just treat it like some weird cosmic mystery until he burns himself out on it or the next one shows up.”

“Y-Yeah but-“

“Just go explain! Unless you want to watch him wriggle about it like a fish on a hook all day. Which I am diametrically unopposed to, by the way, sounds absolutely hilarious.”

Martin winced, hating the idea of being the missing chunk of code that caused Jon’s brain to glitch for the remainder of the day, and sucked in a breath between his teeth.

“No, no you’re right,” he sighed, “Just… no flowers at my funeral if he kills me, okay?”

“Kate Bush songs only, got it, yep.”

Martin rolled his eyes, not dignifying that with a response, and shuffled on mechanical feet to the closed door of Jon’s office. He rapped lightly a few times before pushing his way in, smiling sheepishly at the head archivist who had clearly just unceremoniously flung himself in front of the mysterious bouquet to hide it from view.

“Martin!” he barked, “What in the hell are you-“

“Uh, just needed to talk to you for a second.”

He closed the door behind him

“Oh, uh… about wh-“

“About those, actually,” Martin confessed through his teeth, pointing, mortified, at the coy spray of flaming tulips peeking out from behind Jon’s hip.

He whipped around to look at them, then back to his assistant, then back to the flowers again, the blush that only ever seemed to find the tips of his ears glowing like two carmine rosebuds there.

“…You?”

That unreadable earthy brown gaze, somewhere between wilting regency heroine and venomous snake ready to strike with fangs bared, harpooned Martin directly to the heart.

“No! God no! S-Sorry!” he yelped, flailing his hands defensively in the air, “I-I mean they are mine, yes, b-but I-! Th-They’re for my mum! I-I try to visit her in her care home if I can on Fridays, and I always bring her some flowers! I was supposed to be dropping off a file for you, but then Tim was hounding me about the broken kettle and Sasha needed that damned report and I was all mixed up and I… I forgot them here. On your desk. Your desk of all places. I still have the file and um… T-Trade you? Hah…”

Jon’s finely sculpted brow shifted from pinched, to bemused, to a strange, sorrowful relief as Martin finished lamely in falsetto and he chuckled under his breath.

“Ah… right. Right! I thought for a second someone might have um…” he snorted breathlessly, “Hah, I knew that was a preposterous notion.”

The metaphysical harpoon still in Martin’s chest shattered in icy shards of anguish as his heart collapsed under the weight of itself.

“Wh- Jon, is it really that preposterous a notion someone might want to bring you flowers?” he asked, crushed.

Jon flourished a flippant, elegant hand.

“Come on Martin, this is me we’re talking about. I’ve never gotten flowers once in my life. I’m not the kind of person people think to buy flowers for. It’s not a big deal.”

“Well then let me be the first!” Martin insisted, his mouth and heart moving in tandem before his brain could stop them.

Jon’s brow creased again.

“What? Good lord no, I’m not going to take the flowers you bought for your mother. Who is also in a care home, mind.”

“I’d much rather give them to you.”

The skeptical expression marring Jon’s face did little to hide the blush flourishing at the tips of his ears again.

“Look. We’re friends now, aren’t we?” Martin elaborated shyly, “Friends can send each other flowers. And honestly? My mum doesn’t even like them… no matter what kind I bring. They usually end up being for her nurse instead. So I… I think they’ll have a much better home with you.”

A tiny smile quirked the corner of Jon’s mouth, snipping an invisible thread that softened his entire face into something innocent and full of wonder.

“I see. If you’re sure, I suppose I could…”

“I’m very sure,” Martin replied without hesitation, “Just tell people an old friend sent them out of the blue, or you have a secret admirer or something!”

“Well I don’t know about all that, but-” Jon chuckled, smiling softly, “Thank you. Just the same.”

Martin looked up, just for a moment, and met Jon’s gaze, letting the piercing erudite wood of it lay bare his fluttering heart.

“You’re welcome…”

Jon shifted in the beat of ensuing silence, his eyes flicking away from sky blue radiance to shift his shoulders back into a professional square.

“You uh, said you had a file for me?”

“Oh! Yes! Right! I-I will go fetch that file for you indeed and uh-! Oh yeah! Make sure you snip off the ends of the stems a bit before you put them in water. Helps them last longer,” Martin offered, snapping out of his enchantment and already slinking backwards to the door, “Oh and also! When they start to go, I’ll show you how to press one in a book, so you can keep it, if you like!”

“I’d like that very much, actually.”

Martin smiled, nodded, and saluted awkwardly as he escaped Jon’s office and closed the door behind, leaving him in private to wait until he was sure no one would see. Once he was certain, he preciously gathered the tulips into his hands and brought them to his nose, breathing in the field bright scent of his very first bouquet from a secret admirer.

#the magnus archives #TMA #JonMartin #Jmart #jonathan sims #Martin Blackwood #crow writes #Ask drabble #Bowtiesandfireflies #A red tulip means a confession of love hurrhurr

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ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole · 3 years

Text

MariJon Week

Day3: Soulmate/Glasses

Masterlist

Day1 Day2 Day4 Day5 Day6 Day7

...........................................................

“Lucky Charm” Ladybug called out and a pair of glasses fell into her hand. Quickly glancing around and looking at the glasses. They looked eerily like Max’s new ones, she figured out that it meant that Pegasus would be required. Either she was getting better at interpreting her lucky charms or Tikki was going easy on her today. Catching Chat Noir’s eye, Ladybug discretely showed him the lucky charm. “Cover me, I’ll be back soon” she called out.

Ladybug dashed towards where she had stored the miraculous box and dug out the glasses and popped them into her yo-yo not giving Kaalki as chance to appear. She dashed out to find Max trying to recall where he had planned to be this afternoon. Lost in thought she didn’t notice the Akuma sneaking up on her. ‘Soul Finder’ had Chat Noir within her grasp but needed Ladybug closer to get. Soul Finder aimed at Ladybug to zap expecting her to materialise next to Chat Noir.

“Look Out!” Chat Noir called just as the zap hit Ladybug.

Unexpectedly, Ladybug did not appear next to Chat Noir, giving him time to escape as Soul Finder ranted over the fact that Ladybug and Chat Noir were not soulmates.

___________________________________

Jon was with Damian as they walked Titus around Wayne Manor grounds for an early morning walk. He loved visiting his friend as the grounds were secluded, he could practice his flying and throwing a ball super far for Titus to chase. The pair were discussing the latest Avengers comic book and discussing the realistic-ness of it all.

That is until out of no-where a girl in red materialises mid-air and falls straight into Jon’s arms with some force. As Jon caught her a bright golden light encompassed the pair. Damian had to shield his eyes rather than reach for a hidden knife that he so desperately wanted too.

Within the light Jon and Ladybug found they were unaffected. The pair gazed into each other’s blue eyes. They could have been there for a second. They could have been there for eternity. Ladybug in Jons arms. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders. Eyes never breaking contact. The feeling of their souls singing to each other. Humming an intricate entwined tune only they could hear and feel. The warmth that bathed them as they had found an unknown missing piece. Someone who would accept them. The whole them. All the jagged rough edges. The flaws and imperfections. The perfect person who would celebrate their strengths and balance out their weaknesses.

Soulmates their hearts sang.

MY soulmate.

my SOULMATE.

It was with this understanding passing between the pair that the light receded.

Damian grabbed his hidden blade at the first opportunity and moved into a defensive stance he barked at the intruder. “Who are you?! How did you get here?!” As much as he wanted to attack, he was reluctant to with his friend still in his attack path holding on to the girl. He knew that he was unlikely to hurt Jon, but he was reluctant to risk this invader know that it was Superboy who had caught her.

It was with Damian’s harsh tone and Ladybug's yo-yo ringing that the soulmate pair were able to begrudgingly broke eye contact. Ladybug picked up her yo-yo to answer the call.

“Oui? Chat Noir, non... Errr... je ne sais pas... Oui, mon ame soeur... d’accord, je serai rapide!”

“Who are you?! How did you get here?!” gritted out Damian again.

Closing the yo-yo Ladybug looked at the pair, still in Jon’s arms though he no longer was floating (not that she seemed to notice the fact).

“I’m sorry. Je suis desole. I’m Ladybug, an ‘soulmate’ Akuma sent me,” she looked around and finally took in that she was in Jon’s arms. Blushing she continued, “to wherever here is.” She gave Jon a small smile as she made her way out his arms and started to fiddle with her yo-yo again. “I truly am sorry, this was an unintentional drop in, but I need to go and deal with this Akuma.” She pulled at a pair of sunglasses and put them.

“Kaalki merge” she cried out as a different light washed over her leaving her standing in a new look. “Thank you for the catch,” looking bashfully at Jon she smiled, “When this is all over, is it ok if I come back and we can talk soulmate? If that’s ok with you?”

Ladybug mumbled something and a portal open.

“JOn!” She turned to Jon with a curious look. “My name is Jon. Yes! Please come back. Are you going to be ok? What is happening?”

“Check out the Ladyblog – it’s a Parisian blog which will keep you updated and give you info. I do really need to go. See you later Jon.”

With that she disappeared leaving Jon pulling out his phone and a frustrated Damian.

“Kent! Explain!”

“That was my soulmate! Ladybug is my soulmate. Oh my Gosh! My soul mate is a hero!!”

Damian and Jon watched the battle via the blog Jon had pulled up on his phone. They could see that the heroes were having issues. Ladybug’s partners seemed out of sort as they tried to comprehend that she had a soulmate out of their team. The final straw was when Ladybug took a hit due to her partner being distracted.

Jon grabbed his phone, “Watch on the bat comp if you want. I can’t watch anymore she needs my help!” and in a blur he rushed off.

“Just remember to change Kent!” Damian shouted after him rolling his eyes at his friends' antics.

___________________________________

“Pegasus!” Ladybug cried as jumped off the roof which Soul Finder crashed their giant weaponised rose upon. He went to open a portal for her to fall into when a red and blue blur caught her and flew her up into the air.

“We have to stop meeting like this,” Superboy grinned down at Ladybug in his arms yet again for the day. Looking up at him, Ladybugs eyes opened wider in surprise. Blinking in shock allowed her brain to catch up with what was happening. “Jon?” she whispered. With a subtle nod, “Superboy in this outfit though” Superboy grinned down at her.

Ladybug scrunched up in a quick thought and suddenly all the elements aligned. The glasses weren’t Max’s though very similar; they were Jon’s. Grabbing Kaalki meant she could get back here quickly was a bonus. Her plan wasn’t working as it was missing a key element. Jon. Superboy. Her soulmate. With a devious grin forming on her face. She quickly explained her plan to Superboy.

With Superboy now in the fray with Chat Noir and Pegasus with her, they took the Akuma down no problem.

“Bye bye, little butterfly. No more evil doing for you! Miraculous Ladybug!”

Ladybirds flew around repairing the damage as Ladybug went to comfort the Akuma victim.

Chat Noir and Pegasus went to join Superboy while they waited.

“So, you’re her soulmate. Hmmmm. I’m Chat Noir. Her PARTNER. You best treat her right or you’ll be a pile of dust after I’ve done with you. Let her know I’ll catch up with her on patrol. I need to dash.”

Chat Noir gave Superboy one more once over before vaulting away. Pegasus looked him over analytically.

“Pegasus. Thank you for your help. Surprisingly it was needed. I may not be Ladybugs permanent partner, but I have no qualms helping Chat Noir even if it’s only to erase footage of your downfall if you hurt her. She means a lot to all of Paris. More than you will ever comprehend.”

“Errr Hi? I’m Superboy, but I think that you know that. I think. Yeah, ummm I met her today due to that thing. Are they common? And I don’t intend to hurt her intentionally. You don’t need to worry about the shovel talk, but I truly believe you when you say you’ll destory me...”

Ladybug walked up to the pair halting the conversation between them smiling at them both.

“Hi,” she started almost shyly, “I’m going to take Pegasus back, but ummm, if you’d like Superboy we could maybe meet up on the roof over there and talk about what just happened?”

“Sounds good,”

Superboy watched as the pair zipped away before flying to the roof Ladybug indicated.

___________________________________

As Ladybug landed on the roof, yet again a flash engulfed up and Superboy had to look away. In her place was a petite girl and a floating blob. Thing.

“mmmm, Hi Jon, Superboy. I guess I should introduce myself properly. I’m Ladybug, hero of Paris, Guardian of the miraculous or currently I’m Marinette. This is Tikki who helps me transform into Ladybug.”

Jon got a dopey look on his face. She was cute. Very cute. Especially as she seemed to be a contradiction of nerves and stubbon determinism. Quickly checking his phone to see Damian blowing it up with messages, he turned it off and directed all his attention to Marinette.

“Hi Marinette, you kinda know who I am. Its nice ta meet ya officially though. Did ya fancy grabbing a coffee or something before I have ta go? Would be nice to meet my soulmate properly.”

Grinning broadly back at Jon, Marinette nodded.

“I know the perfect place for coffee and pastries. I’ll show you! Oh umm do you mind flying us off the roof?”

Jon beamed and took her up in his arms again. He loved holding her. To him this was a perfect way to be with Marinette.

#maribat #maribat au #marijon week 2021 #jon x marinette #marijon #marinette x jon #ml x dc #dc x ml

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fakecrfan · 3 years

Note

could i prevail upon you to analyse Basira’s short-tempered paranoid phase ?

---

Okay I put off answering this for a while because I wanted to make it Super Well Researched and perfect and everything like that. But it seems my perfectionism has stopped me from like, actually making significant progress so!! Instead I am just going Blab all of my Basira thoughts in a disorganized manner without worrying about being perfectly insightful.

So HERE IS THE THING.

Most of the criticism I see of Basira is around her Being Mean To Jon in season 4, of her being too Cold. Like this comment on the wiki.

Anyway, this is really frustrating to me because in my humble opinion:

1: Basira’s flaw is not “too mean, too cold, and too practical.” It’s passivity and numbing down her own reactions to things. Therefore,

2: Her expressing anger and coming down hard on Jon is actually a positive development in her arc, even if not everything she does during this phase is the greatest.

To elaborate on Basira’s flaw being passivity: When we are introduced to her, one of the things that came up in her statement is that another officer was racist to her, and she let it slide.

Basira is later revealed to--not have direct confirmation of Daisy killing, exactly. But she has a pretty good idea of what’s happening and she doesn’t rock the boat by trying to find out more. But I think the biggest glaring sign of her passivity is the fact that she gets basically forced to join the Institute on the threat of death and she just… goes with it?

MAG 102

MARTIN

Basira’s the only one doing – well, she seems weirdly calm about the whole thing. Like it’s… like she’s on a vacation or something.

ARCHIVIST

Maybe she just suits the academic life.

Basira, when threatened and forced to work for an obviously evil institute just… rolls over and shows her belly. Immediately starts to just sit in the library and read so quietly that Martin completely misses that she’s there. Passivity. Acceptance. Her philosophy, as she tells Martin, is that if you can’t change it you just hunker down and make the best of it.

Of course, the problem with this is… she hasn’t tried to change things very hard before shifting into Acceptance mode, has she? In her statement before the season three finale, we get her briefly talking about why she behaves like this.

MAG 116

My dad would hate me talking like this. He couldn’t stand people who just passively moaned about their problems. He always said, if you don’t like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight and you change it. Whining doesn’t help. I always tried to live like that. But I think sometimes you feel like you’re adapting, but it’s just denial.

But not anymore. I’m going to fight, and change it.

Regardless of Basira’s dad’s intentions, he raised her in a way where expressing discomfort is not allowed. You either change things, but if you can’t change them then you shut up. Which of course, if you are powerless and disenfranchised that’s just setting you up for a life of biting your tongue at every injustice that you face, every police officer who sneers “diversity” while giving you a significant look--because you don’t have the power to change it, do you?

But right after that acknowledgement, we get her resolution for moving forward: She’s not going to shut up anymore. She’s going to fight.

I think we really need to keep this resolution of hers in mind when we analyze her season 4 behavior. Yes, her s4 behavior is influenced by other factors: grief at losing Daisy, paranoia after getting attacked by monsters who are after the Institute, guilt at not being able to stop Martin from going with Peter Lukas.

But more than anything, I think her fierceness in this season is fueled by this rock hard resolution to stop rolling over and fight back.

If you’re someone who is passive and enabling in this way, and you’ve worked to change yourself, you might be aware of how easy it is to either fall back into old habits or overcorrect. Sometimes it feels like you have to be as direct and harsh as possible because you’re scared that it’s only option besides falling back into passivity. I think that’s what a lot of Basira’s aggression comes from. She wants to be someone who fights but she’s still figuring out how.

So she overcompensates, and she scrambles for how to accomplish this, and she sort of falls back to the example set for her--the one person she saw as resolute.

MAG 116

At least Daisy’s coming. I mean, I know she’s… difficult. Everything they say about her, it’s true, it’s fair. But, she’s solid. She’s a… a fixed point, and if she’s there, I know exactly where I stand, exactly what I’m doing, relative to her. She has no doubts.

Basira wants to be someone who fights. So in season 4, as she’s trying to reconstruct her whole ethos, she latches onto Daisy’s example. But so much of it is a facade, so much of it is her trying to… not be someone she can’t be, exactly, but to become something that she doesn’t know the shape of, yet.

It’s difficult for her to sustain because it’s so different from her usual mode of interacting with the world. For example, people make a big deal of her threatening to kill Jon if he feeds on people again but… remember her first reaction when she directly saw Jon doing it right in front of her the first time?

MAG 141:

ARCHIVIST

Floyd Matharu. Served on the Dorian from 2011 to 2014. With Salesa.

BASIRA

John, I’m not sure about this.

ARCHIVIST

I am.

Tell me what happened.

Basira gets passive again. Politely indicates to Jon he should stop without raising much of a fuss. And how does Jon respond to Basira when she taks this passive, polite route to trying to stop him?

BASIRA

It wasn’t right.

ARCHIVIST

You could have stopped me.

…

But you wanted to know as well, didn’t you?.

Jon tells her that she could have stopped him. Implies that she’s just as much to blame as he is for what he did, because she didn’t try harder to stop him. And, well. The thing is? Basira believes him. Agrees with him. She’s clearly already trying to become someone who fights and she just rolled right over when an ally did something wrong. So the next time Jon does this she sort of rises to his challenge here.

MAG 148

BASIRA

Yeah. John, We’ve been over this. the key is to not force people to feed you their trauma. You know – just don’t do it?

ARCHIVIST

It’s not that simple.

BASIRA

No. It is. Or I put you down.

She fights him. Pushes back instead of rolling over and being nice and polite. And of course, the blueprint she has for this is Daisy. Using threats and blatant intimidation.

But you know? Even though she’s not doing things entirely right here, I actually think this is still better than where she was in season 3. She’s seen where she has gone wrong in the past, and she’s struggling to turn herself into a different, better person who actually fights back against wrongness in the world instead of passively accepting it. She’s not there yet, but this? This is still progress.

#basira hussain #my post #my thoughts #meta #tma #long post

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oakleaf--bearer · 3 years

Text

@jonmartinweek day two - injury!

also on ao3

When dealing with matters of the heart, Jon was about the furthest from a natural that there could be.

He was... rusty to say the least. Awkward was a generous way to put it. Completely and utterly useless was far more accurate.

So when Georgie had laughed and asked when he and Martin had started dating, he had been understandably taken aback and politely asked her what she meant by that. ("Georgie, what the fuck?" had been his exact wording). She'd shrugged and patted his knee, telling him that he should probably talk to Martin as soon as he got back to the Institute.

He stared down at the ring sat on the table, a frown creasing his forehead. It had been something of a whim purchase. He had bought it several years ago after reading about the concept online, and he'd just....not taken it off. Every time it left his hand, he'd itched to put it back on as soon as possible.

And now, a blistering burn mark on his hand was stopping him from putting it back on. A small, mostly insignificant piece of his identity stripped back and taken away from him.

A gentle knock at the door startled him out of his quiet contemplation.

"Hello." Martin poked his head around the door. "Tea?"

"Thank you, Martin."

Martin smiled, and Jon remembered Georgie's assumption. Would he? It wasn't the most unimaginable thing in the world. Martin was friendly. Charming, comfortable, welcoming. But dating? Maybe... But Jon had done dating before. He'd explained what the ring in the table meant to enough people that he was tired. Tired of the assumptions, the questions, the idea that there was one person out there who would change his mind, all he needed was a good-

Martin wasn't that person. When Jon ran through the mental 'relationship checklist', he could imagine so many different aspects with Martin. Holding hands, going on dates, even waking up next to each other, but that particular facet of a relationship was completely unimaginable. It wasn't that Martin was unattractive, simply that Jon just didn't see the attractiveness like that.

"What's that?" Martin gestured to the ring.

"Oh, uh, nothing." Jon covered it with his good hand. "Just a- nothing."

"Riiight." Martin placed the tea on his desk, in easy reach. "Keep your secrets then."

"Hmm." Jon hummed, still examining Martin's face.

"Jon? You alright?"

"Oh!" Jon realised he was staring and quickly looked away. "Sorry."

"It's okay." Martin said with an audible smile that made Jon's heart do something ridiculous.

"Martin..." Jon didn't really know what he was going to say. "Are you- I- Hmm."

"Take your time."

"Have lunch with me. That is, if you want to, please don't feel like I'm pressuring you, you can say no if you-"

"Jon." Martin put a hand on his desk, gentle, a calming reminder of a calming man. "I'd love to."

Jon stared at the hand. It was larger than his own. When he'd arrived back in the archives, trailing blood and exhaustion behind him, Martin had sat and re-wrapped the clumsy bandages he had put on it, patiently telling him off for not going to a doctor and getting it checked. Jon hadn't been able to look away from his hands then either, just gazing at them with sleepy eyes, his mind fixed on the image of Martin taking care of him. Carefully picking up the pieces he had left flung about the place and putting them back together, gently slotting them back into place.

Martin took him to a sandwich place around the corner from the institute. Jon stared at the menu, trying to decipher the swirling font. The letters swam slightly as he read them, the words jumbling together.

“Jon?” Martin bumped their shoulders together lightly, bending down to Jon's height to compensate for the difference. “What are you going to order?”

“I- What do you recommend?”

Martin smiled. “Hmm. How about the tuna and sweetcorn? It’s a classic, you know?”

“Sure.”

Martin ordered for them and nudged Jon towards a table in the corner. Jon went willingly, content to listen to Martin chatter away about the wait times and the various bouts of people-watching he had gotten up to in this cafe. Despite Jon’s lack of contributions, Martin seemed to be fine carrying the conversation on his own. A couple of people gave them odd glances, no doubt wondering what Martin, kind, gentle-looking Martin, was doing with a grumpy sack of exhaustion. Externally, they didn't match. They were diametrically opposed, two entities that shouldn't exist in the same space without causing some kind of epoch changing event.

But the more Jon pondered it, the more he realised that he wanted to be here, sat opposite Martin, listening to him talk, letting him order his sandwiches and hold his hand-

Jon’s brain skipped a beat.

Martin had placed his hand over Jon’s where it rested on the table and was staring at him, concern across his face. “Jon? You okay?”

‘I care about him’, Jon realised with a start. ‘This is my friend.’

Martin nudged his hand around so that he could properly take it in his own. The motion dislodged the ring that Jon still held clutched in his bandaged fingers. It clattered out, its black outline stark against the faded beige of the tabletop.

“Oh, sorry.” Martin picked it up to hand it back to Jon. “You might want to be a bit more careful. You don't want to lose this.”

“What?” Jon stared down at Martin’s hand. It felt ridiculous to see Martin holding out his ring and for Jon to feel this weightless. The gentle curl of Martin’s fingers around the band set Jon’s mind whirling down avenues lined with graffiti reading ‘Just tell him’ and ‘Maybe it will go well’.

Jon took a deep breath and took the plunge.

“I’m sorry, Martin.”

Martin blinked. “R-right? What for?”

“All of it.” Jon reached out and covered Martin’s, still holding Jon’s ace ring up in front of them. “You were always- I’m glad you're here. With me.” He carefully took the ring and let go of Martin’s hand. It looked shockingly sad sitting in the palm of Jon’s bandaged hand. Another piece of who he was now associated with pain. An uncomfortably familiar reality that Jon was steadily becoming used to.

Martin reached across the table and gave Jon’s hand a quick squeeze. Jon hissed at the jolt of pain lacing up his arm.

“Oh god, Jon, I’m so sorry, I didnt- I didnt think, that was stupid of me-” Martin’s hands fluttered in the air around Jon’s. “God, that was awful of me, I’m really sorry-”

“It’s okay,” Jon said, grabbing at Martin with his uninjured hand. “It’s fine, it's already passed.”

Martin gave him an apologetic smile, but didn’t argue. “That’s important to you, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“The ring. I’ve seen you wear it a lot. Does it mean something?”

“Oh.” Jon hadn't considered the possibility that Martin might be aware of the ring's existence. In his head, it existed in a bubble, separate from work and his colleagues. It made sense, he supposed, that Martin was able to see into that bubble, since its edges had been bumping against Jon’s perception of Martin for a little while now. “It, ah, its a- Its a sexuality thing.”

To Martin’s credit, he didn’t even blink at the idea that Jon might not be straight, just nodded and smiled encouragingly. “I thought so. Asexuality, right?”

“Wha- Yes.” Jon had been gearing up to explain the intricacies of asexuality, not for Martin to already have that knowledge.

“It came up when I was doing research trying to figure out my own sexuality.”

That caught Jon off guard. For some reason, throughout all of his deliberations trying to figure out where on Jon’s internal spectrum Martin sat, he had failed to consider the actual real life possibility of Martin’s queerness. “You’re-”

“Oh, I’m not ace.” Martin shook his head. “At least, I don't think so. Labels,” he chuckled. “Confusing stuff. I usually just go with gay and trans to sum me up.”

A small, overlooked lightbulb in the back of Jon’s mind flickered to life as a couple of pieces of information fell into place with a quiet ‘oh!’

“I saw the ring but I didn't want to ask in case it was just a style thing. A lot of people don't know about this stuff and it's sometimes hard to tell, you know?”

“Right.”

“I guess the bandages stop you wearing it, right?” It was a non-sentence, a piece of idle observation that Martin was making. But it still stung.

“It feels somewhat ridiculous to say but- I think I’m going to miss it. It’s just a ring, it's not my entire sexuality, I’ll still be ace without wearing it, but I’m still- It feels like I’m missing a piece of something that I was trying to hold onto, you know?”

Martin nodded. “I understand. Here-” he reached up and unclasped a thin chain that had been hanging around his neck. “You can borrow this. I’ll take these off for now.” He slipped off a couple of charms that had been hanging on it. Smiling, he held out the chain.

“You- You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Martin wiggled the chain in the air between them slightly. “You can give it back when your hand is better.”

Wordlessly, Jon took the chain and looped the ring onto it. He lifted to try and fix the clasp around his neck, but he couldn't get the clasp open. Martin pushed his chair back, coming to stand behind Jon, taking the chain out of his hands and closing the clasp for Jon.

“There.” Martin smoothed Jon’s collar down. “That looks nice!”

“Thank you.” Jon whispered, then louder, “Thank you, Martin. This- This means a lot.”

Martin shrugged a little awkwardly, cheeks turning red. “No trouble. It means a lot to you, so, you know, you should be able to carry it with you.”

He smiled down at Jon, and once again Jon felt the small jolt of recognition, of comfort. The bubble in his mind fully merged with Martin, creating something new that, at least for a few more long, exhausting months, Jon didn't know to call love.

#tma #the magnus archives #my fics

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jinx-jade · 3 years

Text

April Angst and Fluff gift exchange

Angst-Prompt-23 “You need to eat something”

Part 3 of Mercy

for @icerosecrystal

_________________________

“Hey, Jon, You ok?” He vaguely heard someone ask him.

Was he ok?

How is he supposed to react to this news about his dead Fiancée?

The woman who could light up any room.

The woman he had loved with his entire being.

The woman that had left her mark on him, mentaly and physically.

The woman that he had held in his arms as she died.

Was in fact, not dead.

He had spent years mourning her, and still did, he could just function a bit better now.

His body felt like lead, weighing his limbs down to the earth as the numbness coursed through him.

“Jon, you look like you’re going to collapse. You need to eat something and drink some water.” A different voice suggested to him.

Did they want him to just act like this was normal and go eat lunch?

Was this even real?

The information had come from Talia.

It could be false information.

No.

Talia had stopped doing anything that would harm anyone close to Damian, both emotionally and physically..

Then…

This is real?

She’s alive?

Marinette is alive?

Then, why...

“Kent, go eat.” He heard a sharper voice command.

In the back of his mind, Jon recognized the voice, but he couldn’t place it.

Too many thoughts running through his mind.

Too many questions.

It seemed as if all the energy that had been drained from his body had gone straight to fuel his imagination and all the insane questions it was coming up with.

Eventually, he was dragged from the Batcave and up to the kitchen where Alfred had prepared some food for him.

Alfred placed the plate of food in front of the Kryptonian before leaving him alone with Wayne heir.

The room fell silent as Jon poked at his food.

“What do you wish to do, Kent?” The sharp voice, he now recognized as Damian, questioned.

The question seemed to break the barrier between the questions floating around in his head and his vocal cords, allowing the questions to become verbal. “I... I don’t… She’s alive… How… I,”

“Breath, Jon,” Damian instructed, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Right, sorry. It’s just. If Mar… Marin.” Jon took a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself.

“If Nettie is alive, why didn’t she contact me, us, anyone. The… The only reason we know she’s alive is because Talia told us. I… Just… Why?” The Kryptonian questioned, his voice breaking at the end as his eyes began to sting.

“I’m not sure, Jon. That is why I asked you, what do you wish to do.” Damian states.

“I… what is there to do?” Jon questioned dumbly.

“You can pretend that none of this happened, that you were not given the information, to begin with,” Damian said after a few beats of silence.

The thought of Marinette being alive and didn’t go looking for her felt like something was crushing his chest.

“Or, we can organize a meeting with my Mother, and you can find Dupain-Cheng.” Damian finishes, pulling his hand off of Jon’s shoulder to cross his arms.

Damian’s stance was a clear indication of which of the two options he would choose. A clear challenge, asking if he was going to leave this be or if he was going to find her.

Damian let his arms drop down to his sides with a sigh.

“I have already contacted Todd. His eta is fifteen minutes out. Todd will talk to you about the whole, being dead, being alive, and not telling anyone, situation,” Damian claimed, be it a bit awkwardly, before leaving the kitchen.

To be fair, he never had to deal with this kind of situation before.

When Jason had been dead, Damian was in the know about him being alive.

Marinette being alive was as much of a shock to Damian as it was to him.

Jon let out a shuddering breath as he slumped back into his seat.

He just sat there, staring at his food.

What is he supposed to do?

Talia saw Marinette.

Marinette is alive.

Jon let out a disbelieving laugh as his eyes began to water.

He traced the mark that covered the inside of his wrist, a motion that had become soothing to him over the years. Something to ground him when his imagination was getting the best of him.

“Master Jon, I do believe you were instructed to eat, not push the food around your plate.” Alfred stated as he reentered the kitchen.

“Uh… yeah… sorry.” Jon stamers out as he begins to eat his food.

“Master Damian has arranged for a meeting with Miss Talia.” Alfred informs him.

“Really?” Jon asked.

“That is correct Master Jon. Master Jason has just arrived at the manor as well, I believe he will be in the gym working off the tense energy that the lot of you seemed to have acquired after receiving that information.” Alfred said before shooing Jon out of the kitchen having just finished his food.

“Uh…. I think I’m gonna talk with him. He’s…. Uh… kinda my best chance of understanding M…. Marinette’s…. Uh…. thought process about not telling anyone she’s alive.” Jon eventually said, as he walked out of the kitchen.

“Excellent idea Master Jon.” Alfred claimed.

Jon easily navigates the maze that is Wayne manor, arriving at the gym.

“Hey…. Jason.” Jon said awkwardly.

Jason stopped what he was doing on the punching bags and turned to him.

“Hey, kido.”Jason greets, ruffling Jon’s hair.

“Hi Jason. I was wondering… uhm… how are you doing with the news about… Nettie…. Ya know…. Not being dead.” Jon asked, fidgeting with his hands as he spoke.

Jason raised a brow in disbelief.

“All things considered, I’m actually doing ok with it. However, a little demon told me ya were having a hard time with it.” Jason answers.

“I… I was just wondering…. Why?” Jon questioned.

Jason furrowed his brows in confusion.

“Why, what?” Jason asked.

“Why.... Why wouldn’t Nettie tell anyone? Why didn’t she come home? I… just…. Why did Nettie let everyone think she was dead?” Jon questioned, eyes turning slightly glassy as tears threatened to escape the more he thought about it.

“Huh. Is this how Bruce felt?” Jason questioned under his breath, although it seemed to have just been him musing out loud.

“Honestly, I’m not Pixie so I can’t tell you her reasoning. At worst, she was forcibly resurrected, and since Talia doesn’t do that anymore, that’s most likely not what happened. The only other thing I can think of as to how Pix is alive is that spell she cast at the end. Either way, just be glad Pix is alive. If she’s in a bad place then help her. If she’s changed from the last time you saw her, don’t question it, just accept it.” Jason says as he begins unwrapping his hands.

“Thanks, Jason.” Jon said before leaving the gym.

Jon was now sure of two things.

The first is that he wants to do at the very least, see his love again, even if it’s a final goodbye.

The second, he is going to do is make sure Marinette is in a place where she is loved. Be it wherever she is now, or in his arms, that was for her to decide.

#maribat #@maribat-angst-fluff-april #april angst and fluff exchange

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thekisforkeats · 3 years

Text

The Way You Say My Name

Info: The Magnus Archives, JonMartin, rated T for swears. Canon-Compliant. Set immediately post-MAG 22. Martin is trans and Jon is amab non-binary.

CWs: Guilt, self-recrimination, worms (mentioned), arguments, shouting, crying, lying (Martin lying about his CV still), transphobia (mentioned), misgendering (mentioned), child abuse (mention of Martin Blackwood's mother)

Summary: Just after MAG 22, Jon apologizes for his treatment of Martin over the past few months. Or tries to, anyway. It's hard to apologize to someone when you don't understand exactly what it is you've done to upset them.

(Of course, once Jon's apologized and Martin's relaxing, well... that's when Jon will finally notice he actually likes Martin, isn't it? Not that he's going to admit to that, even to himself.)

Shoutout to the Martin Blackwood Lovers Discord Server, without whom I would not have written this up and posted it. ;) Jon’s dialogue was (mostly) written by @marianfuckinghawke.

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

“Recording ends.”

Jon reached out and pressed the stop button on the tape recorder. He sighed and looked at his phone. The message from Jane Prentiss was still glowing on the screen. He ran a hand through his short hair, aware he was mussing the grey-streaked black and deciding he didn’t care.

He had listened to Martin’s account of the encounter with Jane Prentiss with trepidation and worry. Now he could feel his face settling into something more drawn with concern. First, concern for his two assistants who were out of the Archive at the moment. Second, concern for Martin. The man had gotten himself into this mess because of Jon’s words. Due diligence. Was he really such a hardass that he had put one of his subordinates in harm’s way? How had he not realized that it might come to this?

Martin sat fidgeting, shifting in his seat, and Jon could feel the other man’s soft brown eyes on him. He had the look of a frightened, cornered animal and it cut Jon to the quick. He had done this. Jon was responsible for the man’s state, and he had to figure out how to make it better.

There was silence for a solid three minutes. Then Martin opened his mouth to say, “So if I’m going to be--”

Jon started speaking at exactly the same time. “So obviously you’re--” He blinked and said, “I’m sorry--”

“No, no, you go,” Martin said, raising his hands and waving them rapidly.

“No. It’s alright… go ahead,” Jon replied at the exact same time, then frowned.

Martin cleared his throat, then seemed to gather his courage. “Well. I was going to say. If I’m going to be staying here, I’ll need… things. Like, uhh, there’s a cot, but I’ll need, like… a toothbrush? I mean, you don’t have a stash of those sitting around, do you?” He chuckled in a self-deprecating manner.

“No, I do not,” Jon replied. “Nor do you have a proper change of clothing… you can hardly wear the same outfit for however long this will take, and you won’t want to sleep in what you’re wearing.” He had a sudden mental image of Martin sleeping naked, and cleared his throat while he shoved it away. Hardly an appropriate thought about a co-worker, even if it wasn’t remotely sexual. “We will have to go out and get such things for you… perhaps after I brief Tim and Sasha on the situation.”

Martin nodded. “There’s a room that might be, umm… did you know one of the rooms that’s filled with boxes is supposed to be the break room?” He gave that self-deprecating laugh again. “‘Course you know that, stupid, what am I saying…” He glanced aside, cheeks flushing. “Umm. Anyway. Umm. It’s bigger than the room you’ve got the cot in? If… if… I’m going to be staying here… I could clean it out… make it livable, maybe, umm, get some snacks and tea and things in, and there’d be more room for extra cots… in case you need somewhere to stay late or… something…” A pause. “Or not! Or just. You know. I’ll just. Have lots of time, so. I can. Clean. The break room.”

Jon did not, in fact, know that they’d had a break room at all. It had been frustrating to have everyone going up to the Admin break room on the ground floor, and he’d said so more than once. No, wait… had someone told him, and had he just told them off about clearing the room out?

He was suddenly horribly aware of how many times he’d griped at Martin for going up there to make tea that he had then gone ahead and drunk. How had he been such a prick to this man?

When Jon had started as Head Archivist, he’d had all sorts of plans for team morale, bonding exercises, and the like. He’d always hated them personally but they were the sort of thing bosses were supposed to do. The trouble was that all of his “how best to run the Archives as a team” ideas had flown right out of his head once he’d gotten down there and found himself at a desk where a woman had maybe died, struggling to record statements, dealing with doggy messes, and that damned persistent feeling of being watched.

Well, now was as good a time as any to start acting the way he should have all along.

“Martin… we will clean the break room. Together. As a group.” He ran his hand through his hair again. He really was going to look a mess. “It is a communal space, it will be a communal job.” He added quickly, “Yes, I know you’ll be here more than the rest of us, but I want us all involved. We need…” He sighed. Time to apologize. “I have been… less supportive of you than I should. And…” He swallowed, aware of the flush rising on his cheeks. “I feel I must apologize. So… I am sorry. But we should do more together, especially given that circumstances have escalated.”

Martin blinked at him for a moment. “You’re… sorry. For… being less… supportive than you should have been.” There was a hard-to-read undercurrent in his tone.

“For being… rude to you… and for punishing you…” Jon replied. “Unjustly.” He gestured to the recorder. “All of this… happened because of your adherence to my instructions…” He frowned. “So. I’m sorry.”

“Well,” Martin snapped, “at least you’re finally realizing that it was… unjust.” He glared at Jon, who suddenly felt pinned to the spot by eyes that were no longer soft but had gone hard as agates.

Jon blinked at Martin. “Are… are you alright?” He was apologizing! He couldn’t be messing that up this badly, could he?

Martin drew a long breath in through his nose. “Yeah,” he said, in a high-pitched, clipped tone. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He went to stand abruptly, pushing away from the desk, and in that same tone, “Well, you’d better get to… briefing people, then. I’ll just… go see how far my paycheck can stretch in Chelsea.” His tone was dripping with bitterness by the end.

Jon stood up. “Martin!” He was vaguely aware of saying it in the same irritated tone he always used for the man’s name, aware that Martin visibly flinched at the word, and tried to moderate his tone. “What is going on? I am apologizing! Is… am I missing something?” He moved around the desk to try to be sure Martin didn’t just leave without finishing the conversation.

“No,” Martin said, stopping while facing the door, tone still a good two octaves above normal. “No, it’s fine. You’re apologizing, and that’s good.” His whole frame was stiff, though, and his tone practically screamed “lying.”

Jon couldn’t read people all that well, but even he could read the signs Martin was giving off. “While your words are clear, your body language says quite otherwise.” He tried to moderate his tone again, but he couldn’t help sounding mildly irritated. He didn’t like being lied to, especially concerning his own actions, and he wasn’t sure what he had done incorrectly in this situation. “Now will you stop and talk to me?”

Martin turned away from the door, faced Jon, jaw set firmly. “What do you want me to say, Jon? Do you want me to… to forgive you? To say ‘oh, sure, you’re sorry, so that makes up for the last six months where you’ve made me want to quit my job every day?’ Am I supposed to… to… just… oh, well, there’s danger, so now you’ve realized I’m an actual person, now you’re going to stop kicking me around, now you’re going to pitch in to help around here as I’m not already the one spending all his time trying to clean up the mess while Tim and Sasha run out to research things so you don’t have to send anyone to double-check my work? Never mind that I’ve been trapped for two weeks, I could’ve been dead and none of you bothered to check on me!”

Martin was all but shouting by the end of the diatribe, every line of him stiff and furious, and Jon was suddenly very aware of the fact that Martin was taller and bigger than he was. He cringed away from Martin, took a step back. “I… I…” He turned away to his desk, grabbed his phone. “Here…” he said, handing it to Martin. “Look!” The phone would solve the problem, if Martin could just see… “There… I… just… please…”

The moment Jon had cringed away Martin had hunched his shoulders, deliberately making himself smaller. Now he was taking long, deep breaths, his expression ashamed. He reached out to take the phone from Jon.

The display was still on the screen of Jon’s message history with Martin. Before the last message from Jane Prentiss was a long list of messages from Jon--numerous messages inquiring about Martin’s health, worried and concerned. He had linked articles about foods to eat when feeling ill, then when he’d realized some of those might be hard for Martin to make alone, found new links that had easier recipes.

There were also, Jon knew, greyed-out deleted messages.

Martin, know that your presence is missed here at the Archives. I am wishing you a quick recovery.

I know it’s sudden, but I find myself missing you. Just thought you should know.

And others, so many others, as Jon had tried to figure out how to pierce the wall built by the texts he’d been getting back from what he now knew was Jane Prentiss, asking to be left alone.

As Jon watched Martin reading the messages he nervously bounced in place, one arm folded over his chest to hold the other. He could feel his skin glowing from embarrassment and he wasn’t even sure why. The blush faded, however, as he watched Martin. Watched the anger fade, and realized what lay underneath. The pain that had been underlying that anger, the way it lifted as Martin read through the message history--it was like a revelation. Martin must have walked in here convinced nobody at his place of employment really cared about him, and Jon realized that that was, indeed, what he must usually think, if something as simple as text messages was making something like hope bloom on his face.

It occurred to Jon, suddenly, that nobody had checked on Martin. For two weeks. No friends, no family. Nobody had even noticed the man was gone.

Jon had to fix this. Somehow. And not by wrapping Martin up in a fierce hug like he very much wanted to; that would not be appreciated from the man’s asshole boss. Even if Martin looked like he really, really needed a hug.

By the time Martin handed the phone back to Jon, his breathing was shaky and unsteady. He dropped back into the chair, like his legs suddenly weren’t working. “S-sorry,” he managed in the barest of whispers. “Sorry.”

“That’s… my line,” Jon said. “I am sorry. I should have said more to make it clear… you are a valued member of this team.” He shook his head, wincing at how… canned that line sounded, but pushed on. “I should have said it at least once. And… I never did. I held you at arm’s length and ostracized you. And… I understand how you felt all that time now…” He sighed. “And… yes, it may have taken this incident to make me realize how terrible a person I’ve been to you since… since you started working here.”

Martin stared down at his hands; Jon could see he was crying, but silently, without sniffling or sobbing. “Why?” he finally managed. He looked up at Jon. “Why? What did I… do? I mean… there was the whole ‘dog’ business at the beginning… what, do you hate dogs that much?” There was a kind of desperation in his tone.”

“No… I mean, sure I’m more of a cat person, but… no… I don’t hate dogs.” Jon frowned. “I… I’ve given that a lot of thought these past two weeks and I think I figured it out.” He sighed. “It wasn’t you I was angry with.” He took a breath. “I was angry at Elias. I like to have a sense of who I work with, to get to know them before I get into anything serious.” Oh, no, wait, that sounded… he hadn’t meant it like… work. He’d meant work! No, he was overthinking that; Martin knew he meant work. He stammered for a moment, though. “It’s… part of who I am… as a person.

Jon took a breath, to steady himself. Focus on the apology. “When Elias… placed you here without telling or consulting me about the selection process, it… felt like a betrayal. I felt that agency over my department had been taken out of my hands. And yes… I know he runs the Institute, but he should have at least consulted me about who is in my department.”

He dropped his head and reached to take a box of tissues from the side of the desk, to slide them towards Martin. An olive branch. “I took out that anger and frustration on you. And that was wrong, I know that now.”

“Not like I wanted to be here either,” Martin mumbled, reaching out for a tissue and wiping at his eyes. It didn’t do much to stop the tears. “I mean, I didn’t even want the damn library job, I j-just…” He stumbled, stammering, “It’s… it’s harder to get a position with a degree in parapsychology than you might think.” He sniffled. “B-but… even on top of that… you and Tim and Sasha, you’re all friends already, you requested them. Even if Tim and Sasha and I get along they don’t really know me, and you… well…” He sighed. “When Elias said I was going to work for Jonathan Sims I just about freaked out. You’ve got a… reputation, you know? I just… I knew it’d be… lonely down here, and it really has been.” There was a furrow between his brows now as he looked at Jon.

Jon frowned. He’d known he had a reputation around the Institute, but he hadn’t thought it was that bad. He took a deep breath; this wasn’t about him right now. “Then let us work on fixing that. Starting now. Like I said, we need to be working together more, improve the… office atmosphere. I… have come to admire your dedication to your work. ‘Due diligence,’ as you put it.”

Martin regarded him quietly for a moment. Then he said, “The thing that really bothers me… I don’t… I don’t think you’d understand.”

Jon frowned. Then, finally, softly, “Try me. You might be surprised.”

Martin swallowed. “I… I’m trans,” he blurted. “Like, I was… I had a girl’s name, when I was younger. Figured out I was a guy when I was a teenager, started hormones, and… well…” He took a deep breath. “My mum’s never approved, you know? She’s always been… difficult, she’s… sometimes she’ll… well, I mean, you know how parents will… say your name, right? Like, when you’ve… disappointed them.”

Jon’s frown deepened. He did not, in fact, know how parents said one’s name, but he could remember his grandmother saying Jonathan in tones of deepest disapproval when he’d come back from wandering off. So he nodded; he understood the feeling, at least.

Martin wiped at his eyes again. “The way she said my name… it made me hate my name. My deadname, I mean. But it… helped me realize I was trans, because when I thought about something else I’d want to be called, I came up with ‘Martin.’ And… and I’m kind of glad sometimes, that she… misgenders me, and refuses to call me Martin, because it means she’ll never, ever say it in that… disappointed tone. I have never regretted that choice, not once, until…”

Martin took in a long, shuddering breath, then straightened himself, looking Jon right in the eye. Like he knew what he was going to say wouldn’t go over well, but he had to say it. “The way you say my name, when you snap at me? It’s exactly like my mother says my deadname. And nobody has ever made me regret that choice. Not… ever.” He swallowed. “Until I met you.”

Jon stared at Martin for a long moment, horrified. He was non-binary himself, and yet he’d never changed his name, never even asked people to call him by different pronouns although he might have preferred it; he’d never had the courage to do so. He’d always been terrified of what people might think of him. Yet here was Martin, strong enough to change himself outwardly despite his mother’s disapproval, strong enough to keep coming in every day to deal with a boss who made him regret the name he’d chosen for himself.

In that moment, Jon felt very much like he did not deserve Martin Blackwood. That the Institute did not deserve Martin Blackwood. They would have to do better, somehow.

Finally he managed, “I’m… I didn’t know. I--” He curled his mouth in disgust. How did one respond to that? Do better? That was only a marginally acceptable platitude. “I will endeavor to change my tone.” He didn’t like that any better, but it was the best he could do.

Jon really, really wanted to offer Martin a hug. The man looked like he needed one. Tim would have offered a hug, workplace hugs could be acceptable… but, no, Jon was Martin’s boss, and Martin had just said how much he hated Jon--because if Jon reminded Martin of the mother who deliberately misgendered him, then he had to hate Jon--and who would want a hug from someone they hated?

There was something he could do to help, though. To pay Martin back, as it were. So he, too, straightened, and said, “Well. You were talking about how far your paycheck will stretch in Chelsea, but I think that will be quite unnecessary. Given that you encountered Jane Prentiss while in the line of duty, as it were, I think we can expense your essentials to the Institute without too much trouble.”

Martin’s eyes widened. “W-wait… won’t that… I mean… won’t Mr. Bouchard be… upset about that?”

Jon actually smirked. “Don’t you worry about Elias; I fully intend to take out my irritation about his habits as a supervisor on him instead of you from here on out.” Not directly, of course, but Elias would be irritated by the entire setup, and some petty part of Jon enjoyed that thought.

Martin was staring at Jon now. “I… I wouldn’t want you to… get in trouble…”

Jon waved a hand. “It’s the least I can do.” He stood. “Let’s get to the shops for toiletries before they close and then we can see about getting some clothing delivered. And, ahh, do you have any… prescriptions you’ll need…?” He was thinking about hormones. “I suppose I could send Tim ‘round to your flat, but I wouldn’t want to put him in danger either…”

Martin stood, hesitating. “I’ll… figure all that out. It’s alright. Really.”

Jon came around the desk to grasp Martin by the arms and look up at him, intently. It was the closest thing to a hug he’d let himself get to. “Martin,” he said, as gently as he could manage, with as much respect as he could manage, “you put yourself in danger because of the way your superiors at this Institute have treated you. Let me at least begin to partly repay that debt. Please.”

Martin was blinking down at him. “Uh… umm… aren’t we having… Mr. Bouchard repay the debt…?”

Jon smiled up at Martin as he dropped his arms. "Ahh, but we’re not going to ask Elias to come help clear out the breakroom. Can you imagine him moving boxes?” He could feel the smile edging into a grin. “His arms would break just from trying to pick one up.”

Martin had started to smile, hesitantly. That was what Jon had been going for; he hadn’t realized how much he actually liked Martin’s smile until he hadn’t been around for two weeks. “I-I mean… you’re not the biggest guy yourself… you might have the same problem.”

“Mmm, fair,” Jon replied, “but I am willing to scrub a floor if I must.”

Martin’s smile widened. “Y-yeah, I can’t imagine… Elias… scrubbing a floor.” He giggled, suddenly. “He probably pays people to do that stuff. He… he’d probably have been hopeless stuck in his flat for two weeks.”

Jon laughed at the mental image of Elias Bouchard stuck in a flat, living off canned meals, a laugh so full he actually threw his head back a bit. “Good lord, Elias, having to live off tinned peaches? Can... you... imagine?”

“H-he’d… probably… start shouting for Rosie.” Martin was giggling so hard he could barely get the words out. He put on a bad posh accent and said, “‘Rosie, why do we have all these tinned peaches? I did not approve this budget!’”

They both dissolved into helpless laughter, both reaching out to the other to hold themselves up. There was a moment, as the laughter waned, that their eyes met, and Jon felt something swoop and flutter in his gut. Martin had such a nice smile, and such a pleasant laugh, and it would be wonderful to have both around more often, and it was making him a little dizzy if he was being honest. When was the last time he’d felt that swoop and flutter? Georgie? Briefly, with Tim?

No, no, that was the laughter and the proximity. That was all. They were bonding over dislike of Elias. That was all.

At least he’d managed to clear the air.

Jon straightened, and kept smiling as he turned toward the door. “Come along, then, Martin,” he said, and again deliberately infused the word with as much respect as he could muster. “Let’s get to the shops.”

Martin nodded. “Thanks for this, Jon,” he said, and oh dear there was another swoop at the way Martin said his name. Had he always said it like that? Had Jon just not noticed? “Really. Thank you.”

Jon turned away to school his expression. This would not do. He was not going to let himself feel any more… swoops for a subordinate. It just wouldn’t do. No matter how nice of a smile he had. He did not have a crush on Martin, because he could not have a crush on Martin, and that was that.

Feeling a little better--it was always a relief, sorting out his emotions--Jon headed out to help Martin get settled into the Archives.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #jon sims #jon the archivist #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #otp: one way or another together #fanfic #my fanfic #canon tma fic #send help i'm in too deep #i owe the discord server at least two more fics already #GUYS HELP

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aerltarg · 3 years

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Maybe this is a stupid question, buuuuut:

I just can't imagine a world that Rhaegar comes back from the Trident, wins the war and becomes king. No, I'm not a anti Rhaegar, matter of fact I like him very much, I'm just can imagine how would Lya, little Jon, this whole affair, would settle in the capital. The norm that fics (at least those I read) tend to follow is to make Rhaegar:

1. A douche, paranoid and destiny-obessed king.

2. Completely incompetent, aloof monarch, that deep down has a heart of gold, but can't really be understood.

I mean, isn't he supposed to be a scholar since he was a kid? What's are your thoughts about it?

oh, yeah, i can totally understand this! it's is the whole point in canon actually, "the wrong man came back from the trident". you would expect a hero win against his antagonist and have a happy ending w his lady love but it doesn't happen. instead the subversion happens to them with rhaegar being killed by robert who becomes obviously a shitty king and lyanna dying after him. they were never supposed to have happy ending, they were created as tragic and doomed and dead from the beginning for the whole plot to start, jon to have his parentage mystery and dany to take the passed baton as the last dragon, prophesied savoir and the heir who has to carry entire house on her back now.

as for the realistic rhaegar wins aus that's the difficult question. tbh we just don't know enough abt their situation, plans and wishes. you see, e.g. in agot we can be right in ned's head and see his motivations, what he was thinking abt, what he was planning, what he was hoping to do. but if his story was told the way rhaegar's was i bet he would have his own crowd of haters and ~intellectuals~ jumping out every two seconds w their "hot takes" how actually all hints abt what rlly happened (ned being a good man w his own sense of honour, justice and experiences affecting him and the deal w cersei's children) doesn't matter and he was an ambitious prick, planned to grasp the power by being joffrey's regent and make his daughter sansa queen. (you can actually insert there any bullshit and still don't reach the level of stupidity of such "hot takes" this fandom loves so much lmao). also he would be blamed to the hell and beyond for being too stupid and not foreseeing the future and actions of other ppl bc ofc after everything happened it's so easy to say what was so obvious to notice. also they would say that the deaths of his men and horrible fates of his kids are 100% his fault and even straight up say he killed them lmao. i can rant abt it for hours so yeah. this is a situation w too many unknown variables bc it depends too much on actions of too many characters we don't know enough abt. the only thing it's possible to tell for sure is the fact that there couldn't be any perfect solutions since things got too complicated at this point.

such fics as you've mentioned tho are just a part of this dumb fanon where rhaegar is "too prophecy obsessed"/"incapable of love"/shrodinger's rhaegar both smart and stupid at the same time/whatever/all of this combined lmfao. the man was notably intelligent from the early age as you've absolutely rightly mentioned, his guesses abt himself being tptwp have nothing to do w egocentrism as some parts of the fandom would want us all to believe unless he wouldn't be so reasonable abt it and later on, after so many years, wouldn't have changed his mind and thought his son could be tptwp.

and literally fuck all antis that think you shouldn't consider prophecies that hold real power in this fantasy world lol. you know, aegon the conqueror was said to be motivated (or at least partly) to unify westeros by the prophecy and still got the treatment of perfect/maximum close to perfect figure of a leader everyone should look up to from the narrative and grrm. prophecy obsessed much, huh? i don't even talk abt all these parallels between him and rhaegar grrm put there not for bitches to ignore them completely! and i will never get tired of reminding that dismissing prophecies is UNWISE for targaryens of all people. the house whose story is built on the dream of young daenys and her father aenar that listened to her despite common sense (or what local "anti magic"/"anti prophecies" clowns consider to be common sense). targs would be as dead as the rest of dragonlords if not for daenys the dreamer. who else in the world has as many reasons to take prophecies seriously as them?

yet antis out there act as if rhaegar is one dimensional weirdo whose every character trait is abt mf ~prophecy obsession~. like how can they miss one of the main points so badly?? the game of thrones distracts ppl from the real danger beyond the wall, yk, the one rhaegar was aware of and meant to deal with. there wouldn't be such a problem if he became king and had as many years of head start before ice zombies apocalypse as ignorant bobby b did. rhaegar had to die just for westeros to sink in shit and our main heroes to save everyone to make this story more epic LMAO

so yeah, too many ppl portray rhaegar as this one dimensional robotic creature without any knowledge of what feelings are idk even for what reason. it seems these ppl can't read for real bc rhaegar was not only intelligent af as well as dutiful ("it seems i must be a warrior" but "he loved his harp more than his lance") but also. ugh emotional?? my boy had constant emo sessions w brooding at ruins of summerhall, sleeping out there beneath the stars all alone and writing songs that made all women cry. does it sound as someone who "isn't capable of love" lol? folks act as if he was completely heartless from the day he was born (bc he didnt play w other kids ig??) but in reality their emotional range is less than the one of a spoon in comparison to rhaegar's lol. i'm not even gonna address the horrible attitude of demonizing him for his implied depression, vile clowns never listen to themselves when they talk abt targaryens and their "madness".

tldr; these fics are mostly lame af and suck at characterization if they're making rhaegar like that lol. anyway his character isn't abt being a good or a bad king, it's abt being a would-be-king for characters in books and readers in reality to sigh over his tragic aura and pretty aesthetic abt how it could've been. however, grrm clearly doesn't write rhaegar as evil or incapable as some parts of the fandom would want to try to persuade others. realistically speaking in the scenario where he wins there couldn't be any perfect decisions but it's a territory of speculations on thin air and lit nothing more since canon doesn't provide us with enough information to rlly theorize anything instead of building biased headcanons some ppl call "analysis".

but remember what barristan said about rhaegar while practically watching him all his life, from a literal baby to the man grown:

“I know little of Rhaegar. Only the tales Viserys told, and he was a little boy when our brother died. What was he truly like?”

The old man considered a moment. “Able. That above all. Determined, deliberate, dutiful, single-minded.” (ASOS, Daenerys I)

“Prince Rhaegar’s prowess was unquestioned, but he seldom entered the lists. He never loved the song of swords the way that Robert did, or Jaime Lannister. It was something he had to do, a task the world had set him. He did it well, for he did everything well. That was his nature. But he took no joy in it. Men said that he loved his harp much better than his lance.” (ASOS, Daenerys IV)

#thank you for the ask!!!#hope it didnt get too long and rambly afshsjsjs #once started talking its hard to shut up 😂#and im sorry for any possible mistakes #.txt #rhaegar targaryen #targnation #mypost #fandom wank #anti antis #majorton #*answered #asks

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captaincravatthecapricious · 3 years

Text

After the Circus- Part 3

@janekfan

cw: strained friendships, arguing, fainting, dizziness, trauma, references to Jon's getting covered in lotion, disassociation, food mention, mentions of panic attacks (none in the story), canon typical season three Tim headspace (although he's being less mean!)

After his kidnapping, Jon continues to have a rough time

The next time Jon wakes up, he is actually able to sit up. He’s alone on the cot. For a moment, he almost panics, looking for Martin in the darkened room.

It’s hard to see. The only light is from the hallway, oozing in because the door isn’t entirely closed. He doesn’t have his glasses on. He doesn’t know where those are.

Does he just have to resign himself blurry vision and the headaches? Not as if he doesn’t get enough of those. He sighs. He can’t even remember when he last had them. Did he have them when he was kidnapped? Did he have them when he got back?

He makes out Martin’s blurry form sitting slumped in front of the cot. Leaning against it and the wall. Asleep.

Guilt pools in the bottom of Jon’s empty stomach. He doesn’t know what time it is. But Martin has, presumably, been here for hours. Jon doesn’t know how many, sliping in and out of lucidity too quickly to get a firm sense on space and time. Martin should be at home, forgetting all this supernatural shit as often as he can, for as long as he can. Not worrying about Jon. Christ, certainly not worrying about Jon constantly since Prentiss.

All those times Martin dragged him to lunch, or provided tea when he still treated Martin like shit.

Jon can’t look at him.

He wishes he could get Martin onto the cot and let him get some proper rest, but even in top health, he couldn’t lift Martin, let alone do it without waking him. Best to just drape a blanket over him and let him rest.

Jon… well he needs to get up. Get to the loo, get a jumper, get some water or food if he can manage it. He isn’t sure. There’s still a good chance he’ll just end up on the floor again. Especially without his cane.

At least he doesn’t have to worry about Georgie. He was leaving her place anyhow. She wouldn’t have expected a call. Probably.

Standing isn’t great, but he manages his first two tasks. Leaning on the wall is the best he can manage, but he makes the way to the break room, drowning in an oversized hoodie. And finds Tim.

Tim is on his phone. He looks… tired. He’s still wearing that familiar scowl, but it’s softer. If Jon didn’t know better, he’d say Tim was looking worried. If Jon didn’t know better, he’d think Tim might be worried about him.

He’d think about that more, if his vision wasn’t starting to darken. He takes a rather abrupt seat on the floor, in hopes of staving off another faint.

Jon, essentially slamming into the floor makes Tim look up. There is a long moment where he is caught between sitting still and rushing over. (See if he’s still awake, if he’s hurt himself, if he’s hit his head, get him some salt and a sports drink. The routine still ingrained.) But. He doesn’t know.

He finds himself half standing, phone halfway on the table, screen still on, game chirping at him angrily as he loses.

He finds himself hesitating for a long moment, before he walks over to Jon. Slowly.

Jon’s conscious, but looks he’s contemplating if he’s going to stay that way.

Does Tim want to help?

Does Jon even want his help?

If he touches Jon, will he scream again?

If Jon screams, will Martin wake up?

He does care if Martin wakes up. Martin hasn’t gotten much sleep… in months, but especially not in the last couple days looking after Jon, and making sure Jon got enough water, and any meager amount of sustenance that he can manage.

Tim wouldn’t stay for Jon, but he is staying for Martin.

He stands there, looming over Jon. Jon shrinks away. Instead of making Tim feel vindicated, he just feels empty.

He should help Jon. So Martin doesn’t lose even more sleep making sure Tim doesn’t follow the impulse to yell and kick and argue, or simply run away. That won’t help anything. He’s been fighting the impulse to hurt Jon for a while. But… but he can’t muster that anger, not now.

Not when Jon’s wearing a jumper that Tim left at Jon’s flat back in Research.

Not when Jon looks small and tired and sick and beaten.

And, Tim knows, he’s had his place in this. Much as he wants to blame the circus…

And that’s another thing, isn’t it?

This should bind them together, right? Even more so than the years of friendship before everything went to shit. This shared trauma. Even more so than the worms? That was a one-and-done day, and yeah, there was stuff leading up to it. Yeah, it left a hell of a mark. But it didn’t really change Tim’s life the same way the Circus had. Yeah, there was pain and pt and permanent scars, but the worms didn’t take Jon for a month, they didn’t kill Sasha and Danny.

Fuck, he doesn’t know. It all sucks.

The Worm trauma should have brought the three of them together (four, if Sasha had made it out, but that wasn’t the worms, now was it? Well, if not for the worms, maybe she wouldn’t have been taken. HE DOESN’T KNOW.) The more Tim thinks about this, the more half finished, nonsense bullshit he thinks up for himself.

None of what he’s trying to tell himself makes sense, and the confusion and anger sit heavily in his gut as he just stands there, like a moron.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

He drags his hands through his hair. Greasy and coated in days old gel. He needs some sleep. He needs a shower.

He should get Jon something to eat.

“I’m going to touch you, ‘kay?”

Jon looks too tired to argue. Good. He doesn’t think he can deal with Jon’s waffling or guilt or any of that bullshit. The ‘oh no I’m just grand why am I on the floor? no reason, let me just stalk you it’s fine.’

Not now, Tim.

Too tired for proper anger, and even if he wasn’t… Jon looks just pitiful, and the fight that he’s itching for won’t be satisfying if Jon passes out or cries on him.

Jon mumbles out, “‘kay.”

Good.

Tim scoops him up, just about effortlessly. And Tim doesn’t know if that’s the months of pt and vigorous workouts, or that Jon has dropped maybe 5 kilos that he didn’t have to spare. Or both.

Tim’s gotten his muscle mass back, maybe even more than he had to start with… all that extra rage funneled into gym time. Not particularly healthy, but better than drinking himself into a stupor every morning. Just… you know, most mornings. As you do.

The change of position is enough to knock Jon out the rest of the way. Head lolling against Tim’s chest.

Something flickers deep in Tim’s chest. His first impulse is to crush the feeling, but… he doesn’t. Jon isn’t okay. Tim isn’t okay.

He wants his friend from Research back.

Which… He doesn’t know if that’s possible. Not with broken trust and hair-trigger tempers. But, he’s just so tired.

He dumps Jon on the couch. Not too gently, but he props his feet up and goes to get him some lucozade and heat up a can of soup.

Jon’s starting to come around again by the time he gets back. The soup is… lukewarm at best. They ought to harass Elias into getting them a better microwave… In any case, it’s full of salt and it isn’t cold. So… that’s something. A little more substance than water and lucozade. So. It’s better than nothing. Try to get Jon up to eating an actual meal, but Martin had pointed out that he isn’t sure when Jon last ate solid food, since he was kidnapped by plastic bastards who apparently don’t really know how humans-or vaguely nonhuman monster bosses work and how often to water or feed them, so they should take it easy on Jon’s system for now. Which will make it easier on all of them.

Jon struggles to sit up, and Tim doesn’t know if he wants to help. Instead he holds the food and drink and …looms. Jon sits up and tucks his feet up, so the blood doesn’t pool, Tim’s memory supplies. Not particularly monstrous. …It’s painfully familiar.

“Small sips, then a little bit of soup.”

Jon nods, squinting up at him.

Probably not a good sign that Jon, apparently, couldn’t find the glasses folded on the box next to the cot with another glass of water. One Martin instructed Tim to keep constantly full. Should he be worried that Jon is still so out of it? Maybe?

But he’s heard what the Circus can do to people, and he doesn’t have any clue what they did to Jon. All he knows is, Jon is even more shy about touch than he has been. Not that Tim really noticed. But… he isn’t blind. Jon’s been waking up screaming more often than not when someone touches him. He seems okay when you go slow, or wakes up with Martin holding him, but an unexpected, or sudden, or moving at all hand, starts him into a panic attack.

How much does Jon even remember of those? How many has Martin talked him through? How many did Jon lose consciousness during? A lot of the last variety. But he doesn’t know the numbers.

Jon’s looking dizzy again by the time Martin rushes in. Tim had just helped ease Jon back down. Martin is trailing the blanket that Tim had been pretty sure Jon had been draped in last time Tim had actually been in the room and not playing on his phone. That besotted fool, Jon, must have put it over Martin before getting up.

“Where is he, Tim!”

“Martin, Martin. Stay calm, would you? Keep your voice down.” Tim is not used to being the one trying to deescalate. But Jon looks about half asleep. Barely registers the shouting. “Relax. I didn’t hurt him. Think he got up for the loo or for something, nearly fainted in here. Got him some soup and everything.”

Martin drops heavily into the nearest chair, with what Tim figures must be a hell of an adrenaline crash.

“He’s okay, Martin. Didn’t hurt him. I… I don’t think I want to hurt him. Not sure if I did in the past…I sure wasn’t helping. But I don’t think I do now.”

Martin doesn’t respond.

“He… he looks so… fragile. I… miss him. And I miss you.”

Tim looks down at Jon, and almost wants to tuck his hair back. That frizzy and tangled hair that Jon usually keeps… well not neat. But clean. It’s been scrubbed within an inch of its life. It’s dry and sad, and Tim almost …almost wants to fix it. But he isn’t ready for that.

Christ, he’s tired.

He joins Martin at the table, not quite ready to meet Martin’s eye. Not ready to see what Martin might say in return.

“I miss you too.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #martin blackwood #whump #hurt/ comfort #jon has pots #cane user jon #cw strained friendships #cw arguing #cw fainting #cw suicidal ideation #cw ptsd #cw dissociation

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