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bellarkeex · 9 months

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Treacherous [Cardan POV]

My interpretation of Cardan's POV from the night he wrote the Alice in Wonderland note. Jude. Jude. Jude.

☾ warnings: confused yearning cardan, not sure there is any?, mention of drink & powders, not explict smutty dream

☾ read on ao3: here.

☾ wc: 1036

“Oh, Cardan.” Her sighs echo into the shadowed trees around us.

I grip at every piece of skin I can reach. Though she is below me, I am the one drowning in her presence. Blissfully unaware to any semblance of touch except nails digging into my back, the hot shallow breaths on my neck, and her warmth I am repeatedly sinking into. Little bruises had begun to show on her collar bone and if one were to look carefully, more would be found on her inner thighs.

My stomach twisting at every little sound which escapes her mouth, urging myself on in hope to be blessed with more.

My name on her lips, I know this would be my undoing. What would finally drive me into madness. The becoming of a mere beggar, my only wish to hear her say my name. No matter whether whispered and breathless. Hell, in this nightmare, I’d settle for it being screamed in rage.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

It was not always like this.

Many times, she had surrendered to him, the only words the mortal girl dare to utter being pleas. Begging for him to do many improper things to her. Acts which would seem unbefitting to any other respected prince. Yet, he was not that kind of prince, and such acts were expected of him by now.

Oh, Cardan please. She would beg. It is your mercy I am at.

⋆⁺⋆⋆⁺⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆⋆⁺

Another countless consecutive night, I’ve awoke from a fitful sleep. Restful nights have become a luxury I don’t often receive without, what others would call, an obscene amount of drink or powders. But no amount drink nor powders could free me from this torment.

I’m unsure how long I lay breathless among ruined sweat-soaked sheets before I rip them from my body, recoiling from the bed. Relieved to feel the cool of the wood chain press against my back, instead of the stick of linen.

This is entirely absurd and should be the least of my worries. My supposed girlfriend is frolicking around with my apparent best friend, and I cannot even get a simple mortal to leave me in a moment’s peace.

I fail in my attempt to disregard my most recent horror, memories forcing me to recall each moment. I need to forget each one. But I cannot. I remember them all.

Breath fails me just as much as forgetting does, I cannot go on like this. I am entirely restless.

Jude. She's just a blip. Her sad short mortal life merely just a chapter in comparison to my immortal one, I remind myself. She'll be gone before I've even noticed the years have passed. Jude. Gone. Buried beneath the strange mortal soil in which she came from. Gone and everything will be as though my mind was never plagued.

And yet even now after she's vanished, she remains remembered by the land. Her mark clinging onto the earth. The earth clinging onto her. Jude. As though she's supposed to be here.

But she's not.

It is unsettling, unnatural.

My skin itches whenever her & her twins’ blanket is a foot too close to ours, but she's not even here and I feel like I'm on fire. Invisible flame biting at my skin, engulfing my heart and shooting down to my gut. An appallingly disgusting sensation that cannot be properly explained to those unknowing of the feeling.

I fear I may lash out at any moment. A tamed animal resorting back to its feral ways, and she knows.

She knows; because she is the same. Nothing more than a dog trained to not bite the hand that feeds it. But every so often, something must give.

And something has.

Despite my, as of late highly frequent, delirious state there is no mistaking the gradual slip of her façade. Unbridle rage replacing usual strategic indifference. And though that rage is evidently directed at me, I would be unable to say I’m not intrigued. Intrigued by what she could possibly be mad about? Wondering of what sets her soul alight.

It is depraved, treacherous even, and I cannot contain this. I cannot shape this into a calculated void.

The blank papers sprawled before me on the desk seem to perfectly mirror my deteriorating mental state.

I am not sure if out of sheer anger or desperate yearning for relief, I feel I must write. Attempting to free my mind of every thought it holds.

I need it gone. All of it.

Could all be fixed if she was out of my sight?

I finish one page after another, only stopping when ink begins to leak uncontrolled from the battered end of the pen. I vacantly acknowledge the distant cramping of my fingers, slowly regaining focus.

Beyond some daze, I’m aware of what I've written. Aware of what I have wasted my parchment on.

Etched in ink that has smeared along the pages, onto my fingertips and the desk below me, is her. Jude. I can only stare at her name on the paper below me. Her odd, rounded name to match her odd, rounded ears. Jude.

In spite of my overly warm skin and unruly appearance, a strange serenity clouds my previous spiralling thoughts. Calm slips into the air around me.

But I don't welcome the feeling.

I don't wish to understand it. I don't wish to see it.

Before another thought can begin to plague me, I brush the stained bits of paper in to the first book I reach for – slamming it shut so hard a few stray pencils clatter to the ground, chasing a few stay pages of truth that avoided being encased inside the book. I’d have to remember to burn them later.

Only after a minute do I read the cover of the book beneath my hands. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland & Through the Looking-Glass.

I almost laugh, as though some sick and twisted work of fate had given me the book itself, deciding to place it in my hands personally. The mortal book I got from my sister. The book my sister got from Judes sister.

I refuse to acknowledge it.

And yet, her name lingers on my fingertips as it lingers on the lands – even after she's gone.

☾ there was definitely more than one jude note, our man was feral for her

#cardan greenbriar fanfic #cardan greenbriar pov #cardan greenbriar #the folk of the air #jurdan #tfota #the cruel prince #the wicked king #the queen of nothing #cardan x jude #jude x cardan #tcp #twk #qon #htkoelths

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dangermousie · 3 months

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Do you like triumph of evil in your kdramas? A small rec list for the pessimist in you

If, like me, you got into kdramas way back when or like older kdramas, tragic endings are not a particular surprise - endings where one or both members of the OTP die were pretty common and even unsettling endings that remind you of the world being rather unjust (Bad Guys) also happen.

But I am talking about something more than that - an ending that really socks it to you, by making you feel the villains won, it was all in vain. I confess when well-done, I love the bleakness of that type of ending. So here are my five favorites for this sort of thing:

Hong Gil Dong (2008)

This story of a rebel fighting to overthrow the mad tyrant and bring justice to the people has the most thoroughly bad ending on the list. Who dies? EVERYONE EXCEPT THE BAD GUYS! I don't mean the OTP, I don't mean your fave secondaries, I mean everyone. The sheer realistic bleakness of the ending is breath-taking. Gil Dong, his OTP Yi Nok and the rest of the rebels are murdered by the forces of the king they put on the throne. The last shot of the story proper is them standing watching a shower of arrows coming towards them, staring at their death. The only survivors are the King and the secondary girl and both are monsters. The king is the man they put on the throne with so much effort but who cannot allow them to live because what they want is not to replace a bad absolute ruler with a different one (that he may have coped with) but to replace the system itself - to hold the king accountable, and he cannot have that. In the end, a mad tyrant has been replaced with a sane tyrant and the class system and the injustices of that society that wrecked Hil Dong, Yi Nok and the rest continue unabated. And secondary girl betrays Gil Dong because - for all her sort of crush - she never truly saw him as human, just a fancy peasant toy that should be thrown away and punished for not behaving as he ought. In the end, the good guys, the heroes, who fought so hard are killed and it's not easy acceptance for them either (there is a scene where Gil Dong, knowing they are all dead once spring comes, admits to Yi Nok how terrified of death he is that has haunted me for a decade plus) and the monsters continue on happily. Sure, the people recite stories and new fighters will rise in their place but it's very much of a "no happy ending in our lifetime" message.

At the time this drama came out, the Hong Sisters were known for their romcoms and this started out pretty goofy - watching it live as it got darker and darker was a hell of a trip and the ending made the fandom insane. But the more I thought about it, the more I loved it, the more fitting it seemed. I love all the other takes on rebels against the crown a la various other HGD and Iljimae adaptations but this one has, to me, by far the most fitting ending.

IRIS (2009)

Talk about bleak. This drama starts as your standard if high quality actioner about competent glam agents of a secret CIA type agency. And then it all goes to hell in a handbasket for our mains as it turns out a secret evil organization is the one that's pulling the strings, and our protagonist Kim Hyun Jun (played by Lee Byung Hun in my favorite of all of his performances) is sacrificed for complicated reasons that are only gradually revealed and begins his descent into hell. He starts the story as a competent, cocky sweetheart and transforms into a PTSDing shaking hands wreck. And you watch him fight so hard - fight through all the torments inflicted, fight to protect his loved ones and to keep his sanity, and fight to take the evil org down. You watch him slowly rebuild himself, and to slowly find happiness again with the woman he's loved all this time, Choi Seung Hee (played by Kim Tae Hee in my fave of her performances, who has unknowing ties to the org) and to fight over the org and inflict damage on it.

And then we get that ending, as he's finally found some peace and safety, and he's driving to propose to Seung Hee and as he sees her, he's shot in the head, point blank and he lies there, dying, seeing her but not able to reach her, tears falling out of his eyes as she waits oblivious for a man who will never come and it's made so clear that the org goes on, that nothing has been defeated and that it has all been for nothing - he's been killed as a punishment to him but also as a message to Seung Hee that nobody ever escapes - for her to find his body and realize it was all for naught. And it is also made clear that there was NOTHING he could have ever done to avoid this fate except if his parents made different choices before he was born (!!!) Talk about bleak. I sobbed for hours.

Ja Myung Go (2009)

I've just posted about this one so I am not gonna re-do the comments but yeah, it ends with the OTP death, the kingdom destroyed and the one winner is King Daemushin, the bad guy. The God of Battles wins again. Sure he lost a son but he's got other sons. Worth it, would think the old monster.

My Country: the New Age (2019)

The rest of the dramas on this list are older. This one is not. Our two main protagonists die in the end but that is not what makes it so bleak - what makes it so bleak is that nothing of what they wanted came to pass. In a way, it's a bit of a Hong Gil Dong redux situation - there is a new ruler on the throne but he's not any better than the old ones and he's cleaning up the people who put him on the throne. Hwi especially fought so hard for a place and then just to have some peace and he gets neither, the man he fought so hard to put on the throne being his murderer.

What Happened in Bali (2004)

Ooof, this drama! We have four main characters and at the end, two of them are dead, shot by the third one who turns the gun on himself. The only survivor is the ice cold secondary girl who would probably not pause sipping her morning coffee when hearing the news.

This is a story of people damaged and ruined by a bunch of monsters who suppress any hope and anything good and cause more and more damage - we watch the three mains claw at others and at themselves hoping for happiness and connection and love and it all gets dismantled and set on fire repeatedly and in the worst way. It's perhaps the starkest with Jo In Sung's Jung Jae Min - who you watch taken apart and driven to extremity slowly and gradually over the course of the drama. And his monstrous family ends up triumphant at the end - even in death and murder he was not monstrous enough for them to fit in - and now they will continue their lives.

PS The scene where he shoots Ha Ji Won's character right as she's just finishes telling So Ji Sub she loves JIS and wants to go back to him and she tells him "I love you" for the first time ever as she lies dying - that lives in my head rent free forever.

#kdrama #my country: the new age #what happened in bali #something happened in bali #hong gil dong #ja myung go #iris

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ashesandhackles · 1 year

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Fic recs

Other Women and of Purer Blood by @saintsenara

Summary: Narcissa is adrift, rattling around Malfoy Manor, when an equally lonely man comes into her lonely life.

Thoughts: I have been wanting a story that contextualises the sexual charge and familiarity we see between Snape and Narcissa in Spinner's End for ages (canon compliant, that is) and this story is a lovely backstory to that. It also captures Snape in transition: Snape still ironing out his northern accent, how his movements are still spider-like. He is in the process of becoming the adult Snape we see in canon: whose speeches are a performance, and how he irons out the awkwardness of his movements in adulthood.

Excerpt:

Snape looks completely wrong in the flowery bower where Dobby has set out tea. His sallow awkwardness seems to repel the summer, even though Narcissa suspects he must be baking in his layers of shabby black robes.

He doesn’t have the fine manners of the sort of person who normally comes to tea with the Malfoys. He eats quickly, and slurps his tea, and looks at the cakes with the greedy eyes of a boy who isn’t used to treats. Lucius would be disgusted, to have a greasy half-blood at his table spraying crumbs everywhere. She imagines the expression of horrified confusion on his pointy face and giggles.

Snape immediately goes scarlet and puts down his tea-cup.

In Infinite Remorse of Soul by @perverse-idyll

Summary: Albus Dumbledore never makes the same mistake twice. Certainly not in love.

Thoughts: My very first Snumbledore, which is a frightening meditation on the very vast power dynamics between Snape and Dumbledore from the hilltop scene in Deathly Hallows and expanding the very personal reaction Dumbledore had towards the wayward young Death Eater. Perverse Idyll is among the best writers in the fandom, brimming with words and fantastic imagery that just stays with you.

Excerpt:

"My boy," Albus says almost kindly, because kindness is something that mystifies his young servant. Severus' eyes dart upwards, apprehensive, accusing, and Albus can see the darkness inside the boy clawing to reach him. Guilt calling to guilt.

The moment quivers and thins until he judges that Severus has had enough and is about to rebel. A harsh rasp draws his attention. He looks down at the bruised, blackened fingernail scraping across stone.

"My boy," he sighs. "You never fail to disgust me."

The ritual word strikes Severus down. His obstinate body shrinks, wings of hair flapping forward to shut his scowling face from view.

To Build A Home by @mblematic

Summary: 1978-1981: Sirius stumbles on something in the woods, Sirius and Remus stumble into each other, everyone stumbles into the war.

Thoughts: First War hijinks, dysfunctional Wolfstar - I was fed! I cannot rave enough about the gorgeous, subtle writing of relationships (the author really captures this raw, visceral vulnerability between two friends who are attracted to each other and how it explodes in heightened tension of war) and there is some fantastic world building and mirroring. Excerpt: Later, Sirius would remember almost everything from this night with crystal clarity except the sky, which in reality was clouded but in his memory would be open, star-studded, expansive and unknowable as the future. He’d remember, correctly, that the wolf was different than it had been at Hogwarts. He’d remember the restless, brutal, snarling fury, all of it undercut with a fear so intense it had its own meaty weight. The night took Sirius by surprise and he spent the whole long stretch of it trying to put himself back on track, trying to reacquaint himself with the wolf, and trying to convince them both that they remembered each other. At one point he found himself literally between Remus’ jaws, helpless and pliant, mewling like a supplicant. This, too, he would remember for the rest of his life.

Second Life by Cassandra, nwhiker Summary: What happens when two men are given a second chance.

Thoughts: I finally got around to reading one of the most recommended Snirius fics out there. Beautiful, understated, deeply emotional - the authors take you on a journey with the two of them post war. It also feels....old?? As in, the kind of perspective this fic has is the perspective of someone in late 30s (which both Snape and Sirius are in this fic, post war). There is a fragile, "who else will understand what our generation went through?" running through the vein of this fic.

Excerpt:

It was like walking into a tiny garden in the tropics, and he was reminded of some of the places he'd visited while on the run after his escape from Azkaban. There were hundreds of plants, most of them unfamiliar, and a large table was filled with orchids. There was a tree, which turned out to be a frangipani, its white flowers soft and sweet. A delicate white flower with an exquisite fragrance that Snape said was bouvardia. Along one wall were plants Sirius recognised from Potions classes, wolfsbane and asphodel, wormwood and sopohorous, a shrivelfig tree, and others he'd seen but didn't know the names of.

"I'm not supposed to have them," Snape said.

Sirius turned to him. Snape was staring down an orchid, brushing planting mix from the edge of its pot.

Al Aaraaf by eldritcher

Summary: There is a place between heaven and hell.

Thoughts: An unsettling, poetic horror fic featuring a grieving Walburga Black. The whole fic is structured like a poem, with rhythm and repetition and metaphor shining through.

Excerpt:

He had her face. He had her scowl. He had her loathsome, loathing heart that mourned and loved. Hell dwelled in him, as a warm and heartful thing calved of mother.

The last of earth's make she held was son. His hands were placed in prayerful clasp over her belly.

The lamb in her was of Tartary, born of son fed and killed with milk and honey, birthed of widow's mourning.

"It is all right," Sirius said, and held her to him as if she weren't damned.

Runaway Boys by Delphi

Summary: Severus dreams of pirates, and Lily closes the nursery window. Thoughts: I'm not sure if I have recommended this fic before, but I am recommending it again, just in case. This is a wonderfully strange coming of age, a tale of puberty told in dreams/ fantasies featuring Snape and Captain Hook. Excerpt:

"Severus S—" He cuts himself off and then tentatively amends: "Prince. Severus Prince."

It's a better name, he's decided. His new friends at school know the Princes, but they've never heard of any Snapes.

"That is a fine name, Mr. Prince," the man says. "As for me, I am Captain James Hook."

A large hand extends into the branches, and after a moment, Severus carefully leans down and shakes it.

"Pleased to meet you," Severus says.

"Are those friends of yours?" the captain asks, nodding towards the neighbouring island, where the boys are now riding wild ponies bareback, jousting with each other using lances made of hollow reeds.

Severus shrugs. Of course, he thinks, the man would rather know them.

Note: Please check the pairings and tags in each of these fics and keep in mind your own triggers :)

#hp fic recs #hp fics #since i am in my reading phase #largely snape-centric recs #but some other content also sneaks through #severus snape #narcissa malfoy #snarcissa #snumbledore #snirius #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar #walburga black #alastor moody

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weirdfishy · 2 years

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bc of this post from @insertsanity529 and idk if the concept will make it into my fic

@thatboysgotwoah hey so. hereʻs a thing. a very loose thing but it is, nonetheless, A Thing. (a thing i didnʻt realize was 1k until Just Now WTF)

there is also a part 2 in the rbs :)

& an ao3 link with little bits added to it here and there

Hob is done with war and violence and terror and death and the blood on his hands, especially after that world war. (not The Great War. There never is anything great about war) Gods is he ready to put it all to rest.

He gets caught up in the arts, in preservation, in working for museums and its ilk— and some of those are old money heirs who, in addition to having taken their refuge in the arts, are connected to the occult and those old money circles. Some are young and their tongues are loose, their need to be useful and worth something presents in their pride of their heritage and what they come from, something already Grand.

So Hob hears about the Devil in Roderick Burgessʻ basement, about the lavish parties that are held at his manor in the countryside, about the cult Burgess has. And as he dusts off a sculpture, gloved fingers trailing down smooth marble, there's a likeness to the statueʻs half-worn face that reminds Hob of something–of someone. His stranger. Hob remembers asking if his stranger was the devil, if Shakespeare had given his soul, and a thought blooms in the back of his head. What if….?

But he shakes his head, finishes his restoration, cataloging, and storing. His stranger is enough to handle himself, Hob is sure, and he hardly thinks some fake occultist would be the one to contain…whatever his stranger may be.

He pats the young starry-eyed manʻs shoulder, before leaving, with a look backward too complicated to decipher by one so unknowing of war and death. Hob doesnʻt wish he knew of death and war and violence, would rather no one did, but it is separate things to glorify the thing you run from and to step back, searching for peace. Hob goes home and does not sleep until twilight, fitfully resting for a handful of hours.

The months pass. He hears of The Captured Devil occasionally, he goes to work, he cares for what was lovingly created in years past–much like himself–and he lends a hand when he can, to pick up what is left of boys and men with hazy eyes and empty hearts, knowing he was once the same (or still is, only buried deeper than one would think possible). He walks around town, for hours, looking almost kin to those plagued with sleeplessness, and he thinks, for a handful of moments, that death, life, and the in-between are all cruel in their own way.

Hob cannot stand the joyous life much anymore, too burdened with the reminders of death and those hanging between, and maybe that is why he does not go to a Burgess party. Maybe it is one of many excuses—he hasnʻt been invited (which has never stopped him before), his stranger is not the devil (people will call anything the devil these days), he needs to take care of himself damn it because no one else is and he doesnʻt ever let himself waste away after something like this if he can bloody well help it.

Then it's the weekend after Christmas of 1926, and Hob has finally found solid ground. Heʻs laughingly invited to the Burgess House by a very proud son of Burgessʻ group, their department out for drinks. Hob, who has always turned down invitations with a distracting call for another round on him, actually accepts the invitation, asking for details while the lad is half drunk and everyone is booing him, their unclever ploy for more drinks waved away. Hob buys that round anyway, but he does leave with the details written upon a formal invitation.

He goes, fashionably late and fashionably dressed, a simple deep blue–almost black, really–with silver detailing of the cosmos on the outside of his jacket, those stars falling to scatter on the upper half of his pant legs—like the sky is dripping to the earth. Hob blends in, smiles and drinks lightly, meets with the head of house with a boisterous introduction from his coworker who has obviously drank from a fair few cups already. The man, Roderick Burgess, stares at him, eyes like polished steel.

Something Hobʻs coworker says, about Hob not believing in The Devil in Burgessʻ basement, makes Burgess tilt his head and raise an eyebrow. Hob only tilts his own just so in return– what of a supernatural devil when humans are devilish enough? War is man-made, and man-taking.

His words make Roderick Burgess study him intently, and thereʻs a flicker of what Hob knows to be a decision of kinship in those eyes. Hob doesnʻt like that one bit. Burgess nods and waves to follow him, passing off Hobʻs coworker to be sat down by his father.

Hob is led into the basement, cold and wet. He stays one step behind the man—a child moreso than his green coworker in Hobʻs eyes, playing with things not meant to be disturbed—and is grateful for it when he sees what is in the middle of the room.

Hob wants to retch on the spot, remembering the paper his coworker had brought in last week that said Burgess has had his Stranger in this basement since 1916. Yet Hob goes deathly controlled, calm, and intensely observant.

He drops his jaw and gasps, letting the man crow and tell him what he hopes to get from his prisoner, of how Hob must understand, he saw the loss in his eyes. Hob goes up to the marble, eyes searching for an exit as he walks around the binding circle heʻs been forbidden from crossing. He finds a hairline square at the back of it, with the tiniest notch—a door. His eyes shine, and he lets Burgess think it's from wonder, from the chance of reviving a lost loved one.

He hopes his head shake lets his Stranger know that heʻs crying for him, that he will get him out, he swears. Hob takes in the way Burgess laughs at his Stranger for being curious to a newcomer, turning in his glass prison. Catching his strangerʻs eye, he speaks his first language, something old and forgotten by nought but him–his grandmotherʻs tongue–and makes that promise, saying it was a phrase of wonderment and appraisal. Burgess puffs his chest out and waves him away from the prison, chuckling good-naturedly. Hob shakes Burgessʻ hand, clapping him on the back on the way out, casting a long glance backward before he has to ascend the stairs.

Guilt is tearing at his throat, chewing at his stomach and knotting his intestines, but Hob can deal with that after his Stranger is free, and the Burgess Manor is burned to the ground.

#oh lord #the sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #fanfiction #fishbowl rescue #angst #i wrote this straight and i havenʻt reread it so enjoy or whatever #oh gods iʻm on a dreamling angst writing kick huh #i do call the fishbowl a marble though #fishbowls have openings for air #i had a fashion au once….hence the unnecessary description of hob’s clothes 💀#part two in the rbs :)

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industria-adastra · 2 months

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[Genshin Impact] - The answer given by god, tastes like sand - Chapter one: Act V, scene ? (take ?) - [1/8]

Summary: In multiple timelines, Furina and Neuvillette always have this conversation. And in every single timeline, Neuvillette cannot understand, and cannot accept Furina’s answers. No matter how far back she falls into the abyss of time, Neuvillette thinks that she’ll never understand. - Or: In a world where witches and magical girls exist, to circumvent fate is to create a god out of love, and be left wanting.

Note: I genderbent neuvi for this madoka au

-----

Their first conversation, perhaps a hundred thousand turns ago—when Neuvillette had been just some gangly teenage girl, unknowing of the horrors of the world—about it, went a little like this.

In the comfort of Furina’s room, on her bed, they watched a recording of an opera. Neuvillette was sure it had been Turandot. Her memories of later times were fuzzy, but this timeline had always, and would always be, one of the clearest ones.

Their legs tangled together, and Furina was warm against her skin. Neuvillette remembered being vaguely surprised that Furina didn’t put up as much of a fuss over her often cold feet touching her much warmer ones. But she also remembered being happy and content with Furina in her arms, enough so that she didn’t question why Furina didn’t try to act out an improvised dramatic comedy about the state of Neuvillette’s poor blood circulation.

She remembered thinking that Furina’s new spur-of-the-moment hairstyle would surely be less likely to tangle between them as it’d often done before. She remembered the smell of petrichor and the smell of lilies, fresh tea, and cakes. So, only half-focused on the singing actors, Neuvillette soon found her attention drawn to the teardrop on Furina’s fingernail.

Absent-mindedly, she unwrapped an arm from Furina’s waist to lift that hand, staring at the ring and the blue nail print.

“Hm? What are you doing, Neuvi?”

“Furina,” Neuvillette suddenly said, prompting her to pause the ongoing video, setting the laptop aside.

“Yes?” Two-toned blue eyes turned to look at Neuvillette. “What is it?”

“Could I ask you a question?”

For a brief moment, something unreadable had flashed across Furina’s face. But it left as quickly as it came, and Neuvillette had dismissed it as a mere trick of the mind. (Stupid of her to do so—it should’ve been the first sign of the injustice to come; the first sign that she’d taken everything in her life for granted.)

“Of course,” she smiled, as radiant as the sun, “You don’t have to ask for permission, silly. Whatever it is, ask away!”

“Then… If I may ask, why did you decide to become a magical girl?” Neuvillette gently placed down Furina’s hand, waiting for an answer. Furina, in turn, leaned further back against Neuvillette. Tilting her head upwards, Furina’s eyes—forever mesmerising blues—stared deeply into her own.

“Mmm…” Furina mused as the silence dragged out for what felt like an eternity in seconds. “Well, this world… It’s a wonderful, beautiful place—so of course I’d protect it. If I have the power to do so, don’t you agree that I, too, should do my part?”

It was a simple answer—casual, expected. It told Neuvillette absolutely nothing at all. She liked to think that she knew Furina. As such, the lack of eager elaboration, and the lack of clear, substantive reasoning all told Neuvillette that there was something she was missing. Something was being withheld from her, and Neuvillette did not understand why. Were all these years of friendship not enough for them to be close enough to share such personal matters? Neuvillette wasn’t just a member of the audience, one of many in the adoring crowd.

“We both know that this isn’t your true answer, Furina,” Neuvillette said in return, deciding to be honest with her thoughts. “Let me ask once more, and give me the truth, and only the truth. For what reason did you decide to become a magical girl?” Her hands cupped Furina’s face, gaze boring down upon her.

Neuvillette watched as her eyes darted to the side.

Then, she sighed, eyes closing as she did so. “Oh alright, you’ve caught me,” Furina said, shifting Neuvillette’s hands away from her face, straightening up on the bed. “I’ll give you a proper answer in just a second.” The space between them widened as Furina turned to face her directly. Yet only a few moments later, Furina then beckoned Neuvillette to come closer with a hand. So, Neuvillette followed it with not even a moment’s hesitation. Just as their shoulders were about to touch, Furina lightly tugged on her arm, silently asking Neuvillette to lean down.

Furina’s arm curled her head, lightly pushing it down further. The smell of lilies was all the more distinct now, so close to her neck.

“It’s because you’re a part of this world,” Furina whispered into her ear, a string of words said with a gravitas that Neuvillette never understood (even in the distant tomorrow of a hollow victory). Those words warmed her heart as much as they confused her.

“...Because of me?” Neuvillette questioned. Perhaps she had wanted more confirmation, or perhaps even the truth given freely did not feel quite so complete. Furina’s skill with words had always left her floundering in more ways than one. Why her specifically? Why not mention her large family, or even the recent friends they’d made? Why only her as a reason? Imperceptibly, her cheeks warmed.

Furina giggled, all previous tension now lost. Taking advantage of her shocked stillness, in the blink of an eye Furina was now behind her. In an unexpected display of magic, she’d conjured up a comb and untied the ribbon holding together Neuvillette’s long, long hair in that same moment. Confused as she was, Neuvillette simply let her continue with whatever it was Furina wished to do with her hair.

After minutes of silent combing, Furina suddenly said, “I want you to be able to experience this world, from the delightful to the depressing…” Placing down the comb, her fingers artfully braided Neuvillette’s hair. Her hands never wavered in braiding, even as she presumably searched for the correct words to continue that unfinished line. “To the fullest extent possible, no matter what. That day… I—” Her breath hitched, and then all was silent.

The sensation of Furina’s fingers braiding her hair was a comforting one as Neuvillette waited for her to continue speaking. There wasn’t too much pressure, nor were the strands braided so tightly that they pulled on her scalp. Time trickled away in her hands like fine sand, but as Furina had always said—no use rushing the process to only fall flat at the finishing line.

“There,” said Furina, all of a sudden. The noise jolted Neuvillette out of her previous relaxed state. She blinked, quite sure her expression looked hilarious to Furina, judging from the muffled giggle. “Want to take a look?” She asked, emphasising the question with a wave of her handheld mirror. Just now’s conversation was also clearly over. But that was alright. There was always time to ask later anyway.

“Since it was you who did it, I’m sure that it’ll be as perfect as always.” Yet with that said, Neuvillette still reached out for the mirror, curling long fingers over Furina’s hand. Well, she did need to see it with her own eyes if she wanted to properly praise Furina’s efforts.

“Ever the flatterer, hm?” Without resisting, Furina let Neuvillette move the mirror this way and that, waving it in all directions to find the perfect viewing angle.

“I’m being honest,” said Neuvillette, admittedly more focused on her current task.

“At least let me remove my hand first,” she huffed, yet made no move to extract her hand from Neuvillette’s firm grip. At those words, Neuvillette simply hummed in response, finally having seen all she needed of her newest updo.

“I like the braiding pattern,” she said, setting the mirror down, and Furina’s hand free. This time, she was the one to lean back on the other. Furina, of course, supported her without a fuss, letting Neuvillette’s head slide down until it hit her lap. Now comfortably nestled between a pair of soft thighs, Neuvillette picked up the tail end of the braid. Gazing at the multicoloured teardrop gem attached to the new ribbon, she asked, “When did you get this? It reminds me of your eyes.”

“Just yesterday. It reminded me of you.”

‘I… I see.” Involuntarily, heat rose to her cheeks. There was only one thing to do in response to such a gift. “I overheard some classmates discussing this new cafe—would you like to try their desserts together sometime?”

“Of course, my dear Levia.”

They never did get to go to that cafe. That had been the last time they’d ever got to truly enjoy each other’s company as they were in that timeline—the one that had started it all.

#my writing #fanfiction #genshin impact #neuvillette #furina #furina de fontaine #neuvifuri #focallette #magical girl au #angst and fluff #time travel #genderbend #ping me if i left out any tags or if the current ones are incorrect #nvfr now doomed yuri in mind body spirit and situation #recently i rewatched pmmm and also finished link click s1 so

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actualbird · 1 year

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oooh ooooh ooooooooh!!! irt the nsb-luke post... the idea of nsb being not so great is just... OMG THE TENSION??? lile how would that go down? in my head, i'm just imagining what would happen if luke found out or the possibility of traitor!luke perhaps? 🤔

irt why i think the nsb let luke go back to stellis

yesYESSSSS THEN TENSION WOULD BE INSANE RIGHT??? and i forgot to mention in that last response that among the reasons why i think the nsb could possible be a bad guy is cuz.....of luke's AU cards

his SOTT card, SSR Overflowing Thoughts. and his gufeng card, SSR Dreamlike Drama. if u havent played/watched those cards, i HIGHLY recommend u do because i rlly loved the stories in both and also because of what those two stories have in common

[spoilers for those cards ahead] in both cards, the luke's AU life lead to him breaking against the state/the law and becoming a vigilante or an outlaw. the reason he broke off from the state/the law was because he had witnessed or experienced a Great Evil either from them (for SOTT card, luke seeing the injustice of the system causing suffering to mc and then later on him being ordered to kill innocent people and Pointedly, Not Doing That, thus becoming a wanted man) or just in general (in gufeng card, luke witnessing his parents being killed and going rogue to get revenge) like.....

this cannot be a coincidence. it feels like foreshadowing. luke is a very noble person at heart with a great GREAT sense of devotion for the people and the causes he believes in. but if that trust is broken, if he sees bad happening, he breaks off. two cards show us his propensity of doing this in AUs, so whos to say it cant happen in the canon setting? and if it does, then the mysterious govt agency that hes currently aligned to seems like the best bet for who That Evil will be, right?

im sounding like a madman again JHAVKJFAHSVF but i do hope this happens because it'd be SO INTERESTING

additionally, i do wanna say that in broad strokes, that i dont necessarily think itll be traitor!luke (thought that ALSO INTERESTS ME GREATLY YEYYEYYEEAAA) but more following the premises of the AU cards where like......ok in the beginning he actually was aligned with the state/the law, but then Something crossed the line, Something happened that was too horrible for him to accept, and he breaks off

the AU cards show that luke has hard lines and limits for what he is willing to accept from governing powers or from the status quo. when those lines are crossed, hes gone, hes out

so in canon i wonder if like.....luke Is a traitor in the nxx but he doesnt know it yet. hes more being used as a pawn, moved into the right spots where he'll be most useful and unknowing of what his purpose actually is. and then when he realizes that his master isnt as good as he first thought them to be, he goes rogue

wouldnt that be a hella fun route for the story to go? HAHA

btw, if ur interested in traitor!luke, i HIGHLY HIGHLY reccommend that u start reading and following sam @samsspambox's fic series "the world turned upside down (down, down, down)" which is delving into that concept along with other extremely fantastic concepts and also it's SO GOOD, GO READ IT!!!!

BUT YEAH......nsb being revealed to be not-so-good would be so so delicious to me narratively

.....it'd be agonizing for luke "guilt complex big enough to be seen from space" pearce to have more things to be insanely guilty about, but honestly that just adds to the appeal for me HKJASHFVAKSF

#welcome to the blog where sometimes i answer questions with more non-answers and a lot of tangents JVSKDJF #asks #anon

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jcryptid · 2 years

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The Magnus (fic rec) Archives

This one has been literally years in the making and a true testiment to the power of hyperfixation and what I could maybe do if my brain decided something like graduating highschool was actually really interesting.

I'm sure my fic preferences will be made very much clear as you read this, so do keep in mind said preferences might not allign with yours. I have included a lot of Whump, H/C and angst in my list, so if you're not into that sort of thing, that's fine, have a nice day. I've also got some content warnings in my descriptions as well for the more... intense....whump?... yeah let's go with that.

(Most are all Jmart, but there's some JonTim, some LonelyEyes on the side, and the occassional OG archivist squad polyamory, anything tagged as Jon/Elias is 100% in some kind of whump scenario)

Rec list and key under the cut (^o^)/

Key:

Bold = 11/10 fic, very much had me thinking about if for way longer than I should have, recommending it way too many times than is necessary and pretty regularly rereading it

Purple italics = didn't quite have the same earth shattering effect as the bold fics, but very much worth a read all the same

Plain text = it's up there fam, but not quite on the same level as the purple italics or bold fics

The garden of forking paths - by bibliocratic

After killing Elias and presumably setting the world back the way it was Jon and Martin find themselves falling through the doors of the distortion, holding each other tight and doing everything they can to not let go. It's only when Jon wakes up later to an archivist named Sasha and the Tim he used to know waving an axe in his face that he realizes that wherever somewhere else was, he came through alone.

First fic I ever read for TMA that I connected with really, written midway through season 5 so we pretty much ignore any canon ending, but I don’t think any of us are particularly complaining about that one considering the sheer amount of fix its. (Completed)

Out There, Somewhere - Artyphex

Jon wakes up, blind and alone and bleeding out having been spat out of the crack between realities after the end of the world and now finds himself alone, alone and in pain, entirely alone in a way he's never felt before, in a world that is not his with no one he knows and loves beside him. And he is left to search, with unseeing eyes and shaking words for the one person he needs to know is okay. (Completed)

They keep trying to row away (series) - by assigned_Jon_Kin_Again (sparrow0), blackwood (transjon), radula (stickpenalties), screechfox, skvadern

Body horror mermaid fic that breaks my heart in the best way, feat. Archivist Sasha and maybe a polyamory between the 4 main archivist crew? Either way a hurt/comfort mermaid fic that I can't stop coming back to. If you're a big fan of Whump and excessive angst with the sweat relief of comfort this is the fic for you, but please for the love of god pay attention to the Trigger Warnings. (Series complete)

Family, Found - Dribblescribbles

Basira was there for the unknowing, she was there when Elias told them all to their faces that he was a bastard who was using them for something none of them could understand, and ever since the unknowing she's been doing whatever she could, taking whatever scraps of investigations she could to find the answers. And of all the people it had to be Helen who helped her figure it out. Because Jon is not a monster, but the Web and the Eye are doing their damn best to make him one, and she's going to make sure that the others working for the archives aren't doing the same. (One Shot)

My witness brings me Into existence - by driflew

A take on Not!Jon au with an exploration on what happens if he comes back and the experiences he has to deal with as someone who cannot be physically remembered but still wants to help out Sasha and the others, even if Elias, the one person who seems to know him, won't let him.

This one has me feeling a lot of things, currently existing as just a One shot but I'm still crossing my fingers from some extra additions to the series, and boy does this one have me coming back on the regular. (Completed fic, Series ongoing)

Not a Second Thought - by i_can_do_fics

An alternate take on Not!Jon, specifically involving the web instead of the stranger. Where people aren't replaced, but thin unseeable strings of spider silk force his hand and his tongue and his body in no way he can resist. And after everything that'd happened since this all started, he's not quite sure it's a bad thing. (One shot)

Miles to Go before I sleep - by AuralQueer

Sleep Dep. Hurt Comfort Set S4, feat. A Jon who is putting himself through way too much crap but honestly that's just par for the course. (One shot)

Beastly Behavior - by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin is a man struck by a curse, a curse that is vindictive and cruel and cast by someone he will always love despite everything she's done to him. Jon is a man on the run from a monster of his own, a man with all the power in the world to take everything he has left of himself for his own entertainment. Two men with two tasks, a mother and a grandmother, both dying in their beds and both losing a part of their freedom and themselves trying to save them. Both terrified of the world they live in, of the person they grow to love, of the people they may be becoming.

A Beauty and the Beast au with a bit of a twist, and a happy ending well worth the wait. (Completed)

The Sea Calls Me Home - mothjons

Martin Blackwood takes a job at Peter Lukas's estate in exchange for his mother's care and

their housing for his service. It's not a pretty job, it's not anything Martin would have picked for himself but nothing he'd had ever would be and he's resigned himself to that fact, no matter how much it hurts. And then he meets a strange man by the sea, and god knows all the secrets and the pain of loving someone is the one choice he knows for certain he'd never give up.

Not going to lie this one had by ugly crying by the end. A great and honestly very angsty take on Mer Jon x Martin but also set during the height of WWI and I promise you there is of course a happy ending they both deserve. (Complete)

Head in the Lion's Mouth - by renwhit

Au where Danny is alive, damaged goods but alive. So when a certain archivist, possibly delirious and in pain, narrows his eyes and tells him he looks familiar in a way the other uncanny circus members don't, it sparks something in him he can't explain and for the first time in over a decade the ringmaster has a name. (Series is ongoing)

Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me - by ghostfrog

A cute ongoing fic where Jon becomes a teacher after Martin singlehandedly stops the apocalypse at the end of S4, and because they're both trying to move on with their lives Jon becomes an English teacher for a local school, where he has a class that are a bit too observant, and maybe just a bit too into cryptids.

There Are Monsters In These Woods - by DoilySpider

Once upon a time there was a prince of a kingdom named blackwood, with a wicked stepfather who wanted him dead. One day the prince asked his stepfather what he could do to claim the crown that they both knew was rightfully his, and the stepfather told him that a king must be brave, and to prove it he must then slay the beast of eyes.

Once upon a time there was a man named Jonathan Sims, a man who sought whatever knowledge and magic it would take to be able to protect those he loved from the monsters that took everything from him; and so he went to see the Mage Magnus, who would only be making him just one more.

Dark Fairytale au? Well that's what you get I suppose when the fandom is based around a horror podcast. All I can say really is that I love the world-building on this one, and the writing, featuring a happily ever after we all know they all deserve and some Jon/Martin/Tim/Gerry Polyamory. (Complete)

A Weather In The Flesh - by cuttooth

An emotionally devastating one shot about touch starvation that may or may not have made me feel a lot of things (One shot)

One of these birds, is not my bird - by updownandsideways

Just a good ol' Not Jon fic, a bit predictable in places but the gist is Jon is taken by the Not Them and Martin's feeling a bit different about Jon since he got back from the Prentiss incident, it's only when he re-reads some of his old poetry that he finds out why. (Complete)

Thresholds (series) - by bubonickitten

At the precipice of finding out he's changing into something inhuman, Elias decides to give Jon a push, with the perfect bit of information to leave him a wreck, and makes him know the story of a young man he remembers all too clearly being taken by dear old Mr. Spider. (Complete)

Chamomile - Dribbledscribbles

Chamomile is a mischievous little creature who finds its delight in seeing how many times they can give the people in this safe house a heart attack. It's attempts on Martin have been successful to a fault, pushing him as far as it can to scare the living daylights out of him before he comes at him with a broom and scuttling away before he can come close. It's a fun game they have, but when they try it on Jon it just doesn't work. It's not fun, because Jon lets it win, Jon names it, Jon gives him cuddles and lets it rest on his shoulder, and this little creature is rather determined not to give up.

Aka a cute fluff fic where Jon and Martin are living in their cottage in Scotland and end up adopting a few of the spookier residents. (Completed)

Go softly - by doomcountry

Martin brings home a jug of bleach, sets it on the counter with an eyedropper for when Jon is ready, and even if both of them know it will hurt, that is has to be done, but no matter what they are going to get through this together.

TW for eye mutilation (Oneshot)

Terror Management Theory - by prismatical

Jonathan sims was eaten by a spider when he was eight, he died, but then he came back. Since then Jon has a very interesting relationship with death, one that terrifies him more than anything else, more than any other fear, and it's going to take a hell of a lot to earn his right to death back. (Completed)

Nature has taught her creatures to hate - thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

Many times Jon has tried to run, sometimes it even worked, sometimes he got barely made it out alive at the end of the day, but it never worked when he was running from the Magnus institute, from James Wright or Elias Bouchard, or from the horrors that have never let him go since he was eight and stupid enough to pick up that damn book. The powers that be had taken him as a child, wrapped him in tight cobwebs of contracts and kidnappings and under a bruising hand on his shoulder that guided him down the path of inhumanity no matter how hard he tried to run. And even now, when he's failed again and facing losing another of a short line of close connections to the curse that is the Magnus institute, he can't back out.

NGL this one is depressing at times, but it kept my eyes glued to the screen it was so thrilling. Featuring a Jon who was chased to the Magnus institute by a book and a boy overflowing with spiders, and then claimed by something even worse, lots of child abuse and Elias being a manipulative bastard. (Ongoing)

Reflection - by LazuliQuetzal

There's something haunting Jonathan sims, something that looks just like him, but different all the same. Something inhuman that he cannot allow himself to trust, no matter what it says or claims to know about him. Something that keeps telling him with every moment they have to stay away from the archives, no matter what.

Meanwhile, Jonathan Sims, the monster and remnant of a ruined world, is rapidly forced to reconcile with living in the past as something no one is able to see or even notice as anything out of the ordinary, not even with the power of the eye behind them, and as fun as getting some small sense gratification from being petty and messing with Jonah as much as he can, the only person he can really talk to is quite literally himself.

And he's a fucking idiot.

This fic is great if you just want a little giggle and some catharsis. Pending alternate title is currently tied between "Two Jons in an archive, what will he do?" and "Jon would be the first person to tell you that he is absolutely insufferable". (complete)

See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea - by The_Floating_World

Jon has always had a fascination with things vastly incomprehensible, staring out from a dock out at the ocean and marveling at the infinity of everything before him. How the sky can be perfectly reflected in the ocean, how everything is endless and so vast in such a beautiful way, and I need not tell you that fears have never been loved in the way Jon loves infinity. After a probably not so chance encounter with Simon Fairchild, Jonathan Sims begins his slow evolution to becoming as an avatar of the vast, but he's different in a way the others aren't. Asking questions with no answer and living on that threshold between the vast and unknowable and madness in a way the other's haven't seen before, and by virtue of his own strangeness, even in the face of the other avatars, he is known as the philosopher, a man who isn't a man that seems content to hide just how powerful he really is.

At least until he makes some friends of his own and they come under threat. (Complete)

Starving Gods - by sevansa

Jon is in a really, really bad place when he decides to go through with it, knowing with a certainty his future doesn't have that if he were to follow in the footsteps of Eric Delano, he wasn't going to allow himself the luxury of a chance to back out, not with so many victims at stake.

Needless to say the shock of finding Jon in his office like that, unconscious and mutilated is something none of them will ever forget.

TW eye mutilation but you already knew that, first fic i the series is complete, but the sequel is still ongoing.

The Unknown Watcher - by authureameslove

Martin knows the rules as well as anyone else. You do not stay out past dark, not for anything, lest you fall prey to monsters and madness more potent than any ghost story or relentless creature cooked up by gods bigger than anyone could have imagined. So on a dark night, chased by monsters a plenty and his own stupid decision to chance it Martin Blackwood stumbles upon an estate filled with its own monstrosities. Two killers stalking the woods that weren't there before, a stranger in the night, two who cannot leave lest they be unmade with wooden splinters where there should be skin, and a man with two glowing green eyes and a face that no one can see. Each with their own stories to tell, each bound to this place by powers out of their control and choices they have made and each playing their own part in the end of both themselves and the world.

And of all things, they seem to think that Martin just might be the only one who can save them.

Inspired loosely on Beauty and the Beast with its own unique and captivating TMA Spin, this fic had be glued to my seat in anticipation, and I highly recommend it to anyone who enjoys tales of vengeance, Jmartin and that classic ghost story style mystery. (Complete)

Déjà Vu - CirrusGrey

What do you even do with yourself when you are given a second chance? What does it mean to truly feel your death, being unmade or destroyed or unwound or stabbed through the heart by the man you love, and waking up alone long before you would have come to know any of it. Remembering everything, every pain, every choice that led to it and everything that you can't bring yourself to believe hasn't happened yet, and to do so all alone?

Sasha James was unmade, Tim Stoker was destroyed, Martin was unwound, and Jon was stabbed through the heart by his love. They all woke up alone on a day long before even the thought of Prentiss would touch them, and they all think they're the only one.

The Watcher's Bargain - arthureameslove

Fae au says what?

Martin hadn't known freedom since he was a child, when the witch Mary Blackwood took him in and bound him with silver threads and promises. So when she lays sick and dying in their house he makes a bargain with her. The Death's book of names and her life in return for his freedom. He should have known stealing from the Fae would have consequences beyond death, should have known the witch would have been vindictive enough to only allow him to leave her if it meant trading one prison for another, and this time, surrounded by the high court of the Panopticon, with Fae and tortured humans in chains, bound to one who speaks in half-truths and secrets, hope has never been so far from his eyes.

At least that is, until the fae proposes a bargain of his own. (Ongoing)

This Lonely Knight - arthureameslove

Martin doesn't remember why or how he came to join the knights of the Lonely, nor does he remember any of a life before that point. Like the many other heartless knights he cast away his memories and the pain they carried with them with his choice and that was just the way it was. It's not until he's sent to escort a strange man from the beholding to be the Watcher's betrothed that he begins to find what he'd been missing, what being of the Lonely had kept him from, and more importantly that he can't go through with his suicidal mission to see the death of his charge.

Honestly, this is classic fairytale knight and royal in an arranged marriage romance but with another perfect Magnus Archives twist from arthureameslove. (Complete)

What Belongs to the Sea - TwoDrunkenCelestials, WhyNotFly

When Jon first meets Elias he's dry as a bone and still smelling of thick salt with wild hair, knocking on his door with fury in his eyes and blood roaring in his veins as he demands back his stolen skin. For all his grandmother's warnings though, he still ends up in a gilded cage of his own making. Soon Jon, against his better judgement and consent is swept up into the path of the unblinking, newlywed and bound by powerful magic and paraded around in ceremony and unfeeling shows of affection and control. It's only after an admittedly prickly encounter with Martin, that he begins to hope.

TW there is abuse here, and alot of iron burns (Complete)

The Path of Least Resistance - chermit

Martin, Sasha and Tim go into what they think will be a normal day of work in 2016, and it is anything but. They arrive to find a crime scene, swamped with police officers there to inform them plainly that everyone in the institute is dead, except for them. Elias in his office clutching his head as if in pain, Jon shot three times in the chest with an empty look in his eyes and the rest of them from apparent cardiac arrest. Needless to say they want answers, they want justice, and if it means involving themselves in a world of monsters and fear a mysterious someone had tried so hard to keep them safe from, then so be it. (Ongoing)

The Sweetest Thing - JoyHeart

Martin has always been warned away from humans, his mother took great pains to plant that fear firmly within long before she and all of Selkie kind seemed to turn their backs on him. It isn't until he's rescued from some particularly nasty flesh worms by the Magnus Institute for Oceanic Research and Rescue that he finds an alternate perspective. Unfortunately, even if he doesn't yield his form, Martin's about to find that humans have more than one way of keeping a selkie under their grasp, even if completely unintentionally.

A martin selkie au that had me cackling, in suspense and squealing with just the right amount of fluff (for my tastes at least) featuring Marine Biologist Jon who's just as insufferable when it comes to his skepticism as he is incredibly sweet. (complete)

Heavy angst and whump warning for the sequel (which is ongoing)

A deeply annoying child - ajkal2

A oneshot (that I will defend until my dying breath) where Jon reads a Leitner that turns him into his 8 year old self right after his encounter with Mr Spider and Tim is there to help him pick of the pieces. (Oneshot)

Antigonish - softlyblue

Martin inherits an the Blackwood house from a woman he's never heard of sharing his last name and very quickly finds it inhabited by something trying to kill him, something that is not the four friendlier ghosts that inhabit the place, and something that goes a hell of a lot deeper than cold spots and whispers in the night. It's not so much a choice then to call in the cavalry when a portion of the very well-built roof tries to crush him for the third time in a row, so he sends a reluctant email to three ghost hunters under Basira's recommendation, with one of which being a man reportedly most adept of seeing and reaching out to things that are not there. (Complete)

The Reverb in These Holy Halls - Wolftraps (AlwaysBoth)

After a distinctly unwell day at work Jonathan Sims comes to awareness and marches in to the archives without so much as a word and declares himself to Elias and Martin both as the new head archivist. A lot of people are confused by this, a lot of people suspect Jon of murdering Gertrude and a lot of people want to know what the hell is going on with him. With a bargain made, and an eye and a Spider in his heart Jonathan Sims is going to save the world, and this time he's going to do it right.

Very generic premise of a Timetravel TMA fix it but it comes with some added flavor thanks to some clever writing from the author/s.

Two Graves - SupposedToBeWriting

In saving the world singlehandedly Jonathan Sims honestly thought he was going to die, so it was more than a surprise when he didn't, and even more than his plan actually worked. Now, with nothing but the remnants of fear and a broken heart he flees London, along with everything and everyone to do with the Magnus institute, but quickly finds himself a new purpose with a garden and connection to some avatars who need some help finding themselves after their patron's disappearance.

And then his world shatters when Martin and Basira finally manage to track him down.

This one got me through a particularly rough patch, a fic about reconciliation after the end of the world was... well, ended, and about reconnecting and forgiving the ones you love. TW for some implied sucidal thoughts and ideation. (completed)

The Archivist and the Adventurer (series) - paperdream

There are few things for a human that is worse than to be considered lovely by the Fae, and that is a lesson Jon, like so many things, had to learn the hard way. Ensnared by the wild hunt and bound to the high fae Elias and forcibly changed by the Mother of Spiders, all Jon has left to hold on to is his name, spending his days confined to the Archives to serve and be subject to the whims of the fae, whatever they may be. At least that is, until he finds his solace in helping an adventurer escape the cruelty of the fae unscathed, no matter how foolish he may be. (Ongoing)

Auspex (Series) - faridsgwi

(Victorian AU) The year is 1841, and Jonah Magnus is ready to begin building his archive in London. Now it's just a manner of going to the workhouse to find a child that won't be missed to serve as his repository.

Highly recommended au for you guys, as of now it's still ongoing but my god is it keeping my rapt attention in hopes for updates to the series. Featuring our good old Victorian asshole and resident child abuser Jonah Magnus, as he builds up his new archive and apprentice Jonathan Sims in preparation for his uses. Assistants will be traumatized, friends will be made along the way, and as always remember the apocalypse is always much closer than you think. (Ongoing)

The Kindness of Strangers - theOestofOCs

What's that saying? That Hindsight is 20/20? After a rather delicately arranged meeting in eye neutral terf (read as not in the institute) on Tim's request, Jon is finally able to get the chance to really talk to Tim since… well everything. So when the two find themselves snagged by Breekon and Hope and handed over to Nikola Orsinov, let's just say Tim being in the wrong place at the wrong time was the least of their worries.

Content warning for disassociation, forced nudity and non-consensual touching (not sexual), this one is heavy on the angst, but if you, like me, really wanted Jon and Tim to get the chance to actually reconcile before the unknowing, and love seeing Tim's protective older brother side, then this is the fic for you. (Completed)

Stag Story - With_the_Wolves

Stag's are notoriously hard to capture in the wild, using magic to flee and disappear before any bullet comes close to touching them. As a results hunts are often drawn out and tedious in search of trophies, and notoriously difficult to pull of successfully, at least until one of the most respected of the Hunter's alliance, Elias, comes up with something of a solution.

A solution he keeps under lock and key and threat of iron burns and torture should he disobey. His precious bait stag, cowed and shaped to his will, and he's going to use him to finally kill the Beast of the Northern Forest. (Oneshot)

The Fates Design - theOestofOCs

Kept hidden, starving and without any memory of a time before Elias saved him, the Archive had resigned himself to a life under his care and in his service. He was the Archive after all, a danger to himself and the world, this was what he was for.

So when a thief climbs in through the window of his tower, and gives him a story to ease the pain of hunger and asks him to come with him, at least until Elias's return, he accepts. The want for the pain to end winning out over the safety of his tower and unfortunately, the knowledge that this is where he should be for the safety of the realm.

And then he meets a ginger haired man he couldn't be sure he'd only ever seen in his dreams, and things change.

Alternately titled by the author as the Tmagled au (which I absolutely love), this one puts a really intriguing TMA twist on the classic Rapunzel set up, with some added mystery that had me desperate for more.

As it stands it is still ongoing, and pretty new, but as of posting this has actually been updated fairly recently.

The Lives We've Shared - The OestofOCs

Jon finds something he shouldn't have, something someone took great lengths to keep hidden, and something Elias Bouchard doesn't want him listening to. A tape from Gertrude, hidden below a loose floorboard in his office, speaking with certainty of death and leaving a warning for her successor.

Needless to say Elias will do anything to make sure a secret like that doesn't come to light, so after a short flick of a blade across his throat, all he needs to do is clean up as much of the blood from the office as he can and start again with one of his assistants.

What no one accounted for though, was Jon coming back.

Completed fic where Jon dies and comes back as a ghost, with the single goal to protect his people as much as he can from Elias and others like him.

Fold, Fallow and Plough - theOestofOCs

Jon is a marine conservationist researcher, so when he sees the net squirming and rolling on the beach with something impossible inside, he does what he always has and cuts it free, regardless of any praise or recognition he might have gotten from the discovery.

So when the head of the Magnus institute of Marine discovery arrives moments later, fuming and demanding to know what happened to his catch, Jon certainly isn't going to apologize for doing the right thing. No matter what earning the man's ire might bring upon himself.

He just… he didn't expect this.

Have I mentioned I'm a big fan of Mermaid Body Horror? TW for abuse, non-consensual body modification and a lot of whump, featuring Mer Tim, Danny and Sasha as they try to walk their unexpected charge through a new life under the waves, as others above continue to search for the missing researcher. (Ongoing)

Darkling I listen (half in love) - theOestofOCs

Jon had never had a good feeling about their newest client Jonah Magnus, but it's not until he sees him one night crawling down the side of his castle with spiderlike grace that he truly comes to realize he's not human, and Martin needs to survive this. So, throwing caution to the wind and what he knows has to be all sense with it, he makes a deal with Magnus. Martin will be sent back to London under the guise that Jon will be continuing their work here, and Jon's life is forfeit.

But Magnus has far greater plans for his new pet, and no intention of letting him go that easily.

If you're me and you've read the original Dracula by Bram Stoker this is one hell of a treat. Just the right amount of TMA and Dracula plot points with some very well written body horror as Jonathan finds himself slowly turning into a creature of the night. (Ongoing)

The Archivist's Moving Castle - Hallali

In a world full of magic and monsters a plenty, Martin's life on its own has thus far been profoundly uninteresting. But dreaming of adventure in the hills was never a way to stay safe, and Martin has always been quietly content, if a fair bit lonely, tending to the town's library under the employ of one Peter Lukas. At least, that is, until a strange man full of magic of his own seeks his sanctuary and promises to help him escape, a hope Martin can at least hold onto for now even as his world twists beyond the limits of what he thought possible and he is cursed and forced to flee before Jon could even have the chance to return. Which is all well and good he could suppose, he needed to get out anyway, he just wished there were less monsters trying to kill him involved. (Ongoing)

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typewrite-dragon · 7 months

Text

Ghosts Get Lonely Too - TMA Lonely Ghosts AU

[AO3 Link]

Jonathan "Jon'" Sims has discovered a new statement left behind on Gertrude's laptop. In an effort to stop the Unknowing, he reads it in the hope of finding clues to stop the Ritual.

The Statement of Vlad "Plasmius" Masters in regards to the relationship between Gerard Keay and himself.

Statement Begins

[Click]

I’ve come home from the States. I was definitely being followed. I am not sure what was following me, it looked like an officer but it felt… wrong. I think something else distracted it or perhaps something happened to it after the stop on the way to Washington D.C. I had not seen it since.

I’ve tried to find more information from the laptop that Gertrude left behind. What was curious was that when I turned it on, there was something new in the emails that had not been there before.

Or perhaps I missed it entirely because I was looking for something else…

In any case, when I had intended to comb through the device again for anything I had missed, it connected to the nearest printer and started printing out what looked like… emails between a Vlad Masters and Gertrude. It may hold clues or at least… another piece of the puzzle.

I never was able to find out what really happened to Gerard. Not beyond what the hospital staff mentioned. Though from what they said about Gertrude’s arrest and the odd book that vanished, I could hazard a guess. Perhaps that information is in these emails as well. Perhaps this won’t be another dead end.

Statement of Vlad Masters regarding the relationship between Gerard Keay and himself. Original Source from Email Correspondence between Vlad Masters and Gertrude Robinson found on her Laptop. Audio recording on July 05, 2017 by Jonathan Sims, Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London.

Statement Begins.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Gerard Keay Sent: November 27, 2014

Dear Ms. Robinson,

I hope this finds you well. It has come to my attention that you are the one that may have the answers I seek. I am aware of your working relationship with Gerard Keay. I am also aware of what that work entails. I have attempted to contact him many times to no avail.

I have something of his that I believe he would like returned to him. If you would be so kind as to assist me in getting into contact with him, I would appreciate it.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 27, 2014

Mr. Masters,

How did you get this email?

I am afraid I cannot help you. It is best you dispose of whatever it is. I recommend the latter if you know what is good for you. If you truly know of our work, then you are aware of the risk it may hold.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 28, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

As I said, I know of your working relationship with Gerard. I made an educated guess. I know very well what is good for me, and at this moment it is getting in contact with Gerry. I imagine he would like his coat back. Please ask him to contact me.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 29, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Gerry, hm? Interesting.

He must have been quite distracted to forget that ratty old thing. Perhaps you may be in too deep now, but that still does not change the fact I cannot help you. I recommend you forget him. It is for the best, Mr. Masters.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

November 29, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

I know you are working to stop some grand ritual, The Unknowing. Perhaps you will make sense of what I have found. It is not just the coat I wish to give him. I had offered to help him with his research. A solution that contained as much certainty as dealing with any primal source such as Fear has to offer. Especially one that falls into the Uncanny.

I do not understand your insistence to ‘forget’ him. I assure you, I have no intention to do so.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Mr. Masters,

You are a persistent man, I will give you that. I suppose at least one person ought to remember the boy.

So, he has told you about the Fears. There is a price to Knowing such things like that. Tell me what you know, Mr. Masters. About Gerard and about The Unknowing.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

What do you mean by ‘remember’?

Yes, yes, I know how capitalism works. The Fears carry little difference to any other predatory being, they are simply bigger and nigh unfathomable.

You want to know what I do? Tell me how to reach Gerry.

Please.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 1, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Hm. Very well.

You will want to find the Catalogue of the Trapped Dead. Then you will want to read the last page. It should still be in police evidence so you may have trouble getting to it. Or perhaps not if you have a propensity for getting into places you shouldn’t.

Though it is said that those who are bound to the pages aren’t themselves. So you may not really be speaking to Gerard.

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

You abandoned him.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters,

Here I thought you had taken my advice and forgotten about me. Did you find what you were looking for? Are you going to tell me what you Know?

- Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

You had best hope that our paths never cross, Ms. Robinson. You are, arguably, a smart woman. I am certain you can figure out the Unknowing yourself.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters, You will have to try harder than that to scare me. Better than you have tried and they have certainly failed. You will do no better.

Now then, if you are done posturing: Will you let Gerard's death be in vain? Let the world, that he tried to save, end by yet another ritual?

Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Ms. Robinson ,

He preferred to be called Gerry. Do not pretend now that you care . If you had, then he would not have been left unclaimed as he had been.

You will get nothing more from me.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Mr. Masters,

I dislike having to do this, but you have left me little choice.

A Statement, if you would please. Tell me what you know, Vlad Masters.

Gertrude Robinson

—

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Subject: Re:Gerard Keay

December 19, 2014

Ms. Robinson,

I know many things, Gertrude Robinson . I am aware of your power of compulsion. That ever-burning desire to know things, even as you work to resist using such abilities to find your answers. You find the power repulsive, even when it removes such troublesome barriers.

It would be easier for you, wouldn’t it? To sink into that which your position allows. You are the Archivist. The one who focuses so much on her own work that the rest of the world goes away. You pretend altruism, but clearly those who work with you are expendable. You wish to keep you precious humanity as if anything Other is detestable.

To you, Gerry , was expendable.

He was not .

He was mine .

So badly he wished to trust you. Wanted someone he could perhaps rely on. That did not simply look past him and truly saw him. You saw your work and you saw how he could be useful to you.

I saw him.

The first time I saw him was in Chicago, you were with him. I was burning time while in the area on business. I imagine you must have been searching for books then. They are a common enough find in an Antique Shop. Sometimes I have come across such strange books. Not your Leitners, but other tomes with secrets that others would consider fantasy. Things that would have been tossed aside as some sort of fairy tale. I believe they overlapped; your Leitners and my Occult.

It was that small shop, easily missed, tucked between towering buildings as though it was left behind while the modern era rolled in. It was what drew me to it, that distinct feeling that called to me. Perhaps it was not even that shop that drew me, but those who were within.

I no longer recall what I had been looking at when we met. Not really. Something among the dusty piles of books in the back corner made my entire being itch. I ached to find the reason. Picking up books and a passing glance over each one. Page through them to see if anything caught my eye. Most had been mundane and disappointing.

I hadn’t gotten a chance to touch the source of what made me itch. The next thing I knew, a scarred hand covered in eye tattoos on every knuckle flashed out and snatched it before I could grab it myself. It would have been easy to be indignant, I was feeling the emotions bubble up in my chest. Nearly lashed out at this unknown who so rudely pushed his way into my space.

Then I saw him. Tall. Pale. Thin. He looked even paler with the long black leather coat and the hair. The hair was dyed black, although badly. Patches of roots missed, mostly towards the back where he could not see. The color faded in places that didn’t become saturated enough and some portions washed away with hot water.

I knew immediately what he had done wrong, I recognized the effort that was made to dye pale hair black. Clearly, he had not been ready to give up as I had already done. The color stopped taking to my hair a long time ago.

He must have sensed the impending ire, I remember his eyes meeting mine, looking far too tired. I recall wondering how often he actually slept. The smile that he gave had caused my core to stutter in a way I had not felt since college.

It was just a simple thing. A smirk in my direction as he held up a leather-bound book with a cover so worn, the letters were difficult to discern. A little quirk of the lips as though it were just simple happenstance. It should not have caught me off-guard as it did, but there was something about him. As though perhaps in that moment, he saw me too.

“You don’t want this one. Boring read really. I suggest something more exciting, like that encyclopedia set. Heard the Encyclopedia Britannica is a real page turner.” He told me. His voice was soft and sounded as tired as he looked, but there was a certain intensity to it. Its effect was startling to me as his smile had been.

Clearly, he was just trying to keep me from taking home a cursed book. I think it was something along the lines of corruption. Some cursed copy where a man slowly became a cockroach if I recall correctly. Probably for the best, as I wouldn’t want to have to spend the next decade resolving that. They don’t make suits for giant cockroaches.

My brain still had not caught up with my mouth and all I could do was stare at him in dumbfounded silence. Not my proudest moment, although not my worst. It wasn’t until he was walking away that I found my words, though my brain had not yet engaged enough to place any filters before I ran my mouth.

“Bold of you to assume I haven’t already read that edition. Absolutely riveting what lies within Q and T. However, I was looking for something perhaps a little more my speed.”

It sounded terrible, and I knew it did the moment the words left my lips. Yet… he laughed. It wasn’t a particularly loud one, but that smirk became something a little more real . It touched his eyes when he huffed a small chuckle.

“I suppose someone has to find whatever is between Quilts and Trains interesting.” There was that core stuttering smirk again, playing at the corners of his lips as he spoke, “What is more your speed?”

I had really wished my brain had enough function to stop me before I said anything stupid. Yet, with full confidence, I found myself uttering the words while holding up one of the encyclopedias, “U, if you can keep up with me.”

If I could have died the rest of the way, I would have. The way he stared at me made me nearly vanish then and there. It was a very near thing, but I managed not to blow my cover in public. Then he laughed . Not the soft short breathless chuckle. Not the soundless single huffs that someone may do. A full, albeit short, laugh. I think he was surprised he could even make the sound. As if he had forgotten he could.

He wasn’t the only one who forgot himself. For the first time in my life since college, I had completely forgotten about the woman I had claimed to love in exchange for the man before me. I am not saying it was love at first sight, but there was something that… drew me to him.

It certainly didn’t stop me from making a fool of myself, and I recall feeling my cheeks burning and I nearly vanished on the spot. I very well could have, despite the fact I had made such an effort by then to have control over that aspect of myself.

“Maybe if you ask nicely.” He finally told me. His accent became a bit heavier with his amusement. It was then that I noticed that the book looked heavy in his hand. It wasn’t a terribly thick book, but it simply seemed to weigh more than it should. It demanded to be seen.

I wanted to pull it out of his hands. Lighten the load.

Somehow, I had enough self-control not to. He must have noticed where my gaze was going and moved it out of sight. I tried to busy myself studying the book I was clutching onto like a prop.

“Really? Well, most people want a name first, if you would please.” I countered, trying to save face. It wasn’t working.

“Does it really matter?” He countered, seeming amused by something he was seeing. I realize now that it wasn’t really me he was looking at then, but whatever was around me. Whatever aspect of your Fears that was drawn to me.

I don’t know why that question brought me to my senses. What about it sobered me up so much? Perhaps the deceptive simplicity of those four words uttered while two complete strangers stood in an antiques shop had done it. It was a question I had asked myself often as I had grown.

Perhaps variations on the same words, a rearranging of the phrase to fit more closely with whatever fresh hell in my life made me ask myself that question. Endless debates on if anything I did was worthwhile. If anything, I did would ever change my situation.

Finally, I told him, “No. I suppose not.”

I think he realised the mistake he made as I had suddenly schooled myself and had started to try and make my escape from the awkward situation I caused.

Then he told me his name. Blurted it as though he was revealing, perhaps, that he was just as nervous about making a fool of himself. Perhaps from the outside we were not nearly as awkward as we perceived ourselves to be.

Perception is funny that way.

“Gerard.” He said it quite suddenly and almost forcefully, as though being louder took more effort than he was used to using.

Fate rarely has ever cooperated for me when I wished it to. I had been about to respond in kind when my phone started to go off. I was running late for my meeting. Somehow, I had lost track of time and I had begun to curse myself.

Thought I was being clever when I answered, throwing a glance his way when I greeted whoever was on the other line with my name before I left the shop. With that infernal encyclopedia I might add. Found out later that he paid for it. I would have liked to think he thought I was being clever, but I was sure he just thought I was an idiot.

I thought that was the end of it. Nothing to come of a chance meeting between two strangers. We simply knew each other’s names and continued on with our lives.

Never had I been so glad to be wrong.

Unfortunately, the short time between our paths crossing did not lend me an ability to conduct myself in a more charming manner. Somehow, I was destined to act the fool in front of the man. Looking back on it, I supposed it worked in my favor, though I would not be able to begin to tell you why.

It was just a couple days later. I imagine you were busy with something else. I had vaguely recalled you lurking about somewhere near him in the shop. At the time I had thought you were his mother. How wrong I was. Though I suppose there was little difference between the two of you in the end.

There was a local cafe I had begun to frequent during my stay, the coffee was strong enough to wake the dead. It held the right kind of bitter notes. It was a decent enough start to my mornings.

It was made better when I had walked in that morning. I would have never expected to run into the same person twice in a place I did not live. Yet, there he was, standing alone by the counter while he waited for his order. Somehow, he looked even more tired where sunlight could reach him. Accented just how pale he was in contrast to the black leather coat.

Yet… he was still quite beautiful.

It was early enough to not be too busy. I hadn’t needed to wait in line too long. I must have caught his eye, well, one of them. He seemed to almost… brighten when he recognized me.

It is nice to think so, at least.

There was a companionable silence as we stood together, the kind that comes from the mutual agreement that it was too early for conversation. Anything said before caffeine would have likely been a nonsensical disaster. He had no reason to wait there with me, as he was already holding and sipping his coffee. Yet, I imagine he was graciously waiting for me to have my own source of liquid wakefulness.

Though as I said, neither time nor apparently caffeine graced me with any charm.

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you came here just to see me.” I told him.

He laughed at me and pointed out that he had gotten there first. I hid my embarrassment by drinking my coffee. Surely more caffeine would have made it better.

“But I may make a point to come here more now that I do know you come here.” He mused.

The moment he said those words, I swore I had heard it wrong and managed a stuttered, “O-oh?”

The answering smile made me try to find my footing. I knew I would not be in the area that much longer. Perhaps a week at most. The caffeine must not have yet kicked in, as I hardly knew the man, yet I proposed we go on a date. The cafe we were in was well and good, but I suggested perhaps there were better settings in which I could make a fool of myself.

To my delight, he agreed .

The next thing I knew, I was giving him my number and he sent me a text message with a little book emoji. I had his name. I had his number.

I had his number .

I had not gone on a date in an embarrassingly long time. Circumstances prevented it at first, health reasons. After that, it was no longer a focus of mine. Sure, I have flirted from time to time, but there was no real interest involved. Just pretty words to get others to swoon and oblige to my asks.

The rest of the day had gone by far too quickly after that. I hardly remember it. Same old business meetings and my thoughts drifting off to what I would wear. What I would even say? I could plan a business meeting down to nearly every beat. Anticipate what would be argued about and how to counter them. How to win deals and continue to gain wealth.

Yet with him… he was different. He caught me off guard in a way I had not allowed myself. However, I was firm to remind myself that it was simply a date. Not to get my hopes up for anything more than a night I was bound to stumble through.

The date had gone surprisingly well. I had picked somewhere quiet. While I was no stranger to fine dining, something convinced me to pick something that was more of a hole-in-the wall. The atmosphere was far more relaxed which seemed to bode well for both of us. I do not think he would have cared for any of the places I tended to frequent for business dinners.

Do not misunderstand me, I still feel like I made an utter fool of myself. I had half expected him not to show. I would like to think I would not have faulted him for it, but I know I would have tried to rationalize things to make myself feel better.

I think he knew that too.

Yet, there he was. He really showed up and, well, at the end of the date actually kissed me.

I hadn’t been expecting it, and I was rather glad no one but him noticed my faltering control. The loss of control had been the way my hands went intangible and I dropped what I was holding. Completely unable to get ahold of myself for far too long. My eyes flashing into an intense red that he later, affectionately, described as ruby.

I remember kissing him back. I remember the taste of our meal on his lips, the aftertaste of cigarettes that would always be there from the sheer frequency of his habit. I remember finally getting my hands back in order so that I could feel how soft his hair was.

It was a wonderful kiss.

It was a wonderful night after the date. We had agreed to finish our date at my hotel.

I had not realized he had noticed the lapse in my control until there was a lull and he asked me, rather bluntly, what I was. That I, in his words, ‘Feel like I was touched by the End, but not’.

You would think that would have ruined the mood, but he was calm as he asked. Genuinely curious and not overbearing like some I knew. So… I risked letting someone else in on the secret. Showed him the man behind the curtain as it were. Showed him 'Plasmius'.

Except what many would not understand is that the Man behind the curtain is the same as the one outside of it. For I am what one calls a ‘Halfa’. The only one as far as I am aware. A result of a college incident with a small scale interdimensional portal that was turned on by my so-called best friend, exposed me to a burst of ectoplasmic radiation.

I suffered from radiation poisoning or a “kinder” term, ‘Ecto Acne’ for two years. Two years alone in a hospital. Two years slowly dying as my body continued to reject my existence. Treatments did nothing but perhaps take the edge off. I was angry and hurting and easily forgotten as an unfortunate casualty of science.

At the end of two years I died and I… became something else. Stewing in the emotions of abandonment, a broken heart, and anger with the ectoplasmic energy turned me into a ghost. Except I was not entirely a ghost. No, I was also alive. I imagine it had to do with being exposed to what was effectively a threshold between the living and the dead.

When I showed Gerry what I was, I had expected skepticism or shock. Instead he was relieved. While he was no ghost, he seemed relieved that I was not among the “normal” masses. I admit, there was as much comfort as there was confusion in realizing that he too was part of a small circle who “Got it”.

The awkwardness melted away near instantly when he asked me how I came to be this way. It was not so much invasive as it was curious. The memories hurt, certainly, but there was something… freeing… about telling someone .

In exchange he told me about his mother. His childhood. Why he was in Chicago. About you and this Unknowing Ritual. He explained the Fears and explained that I felt, well, like a prime candidate for something called The Lonely.

I wanted to scoff.

I wasn’t afraid of being lonely . I knew plenty of people. Yet… as I found myself trying to argue it, I realized he was right.

Admittedly, it was a painful realization. Especially as his list of what I could focus on to combat it would help me none. Anyone I could have possibly relied on was absent from my life or not worth my time. I didn’t even have a pet to speak of.

I could see there was some recognition in his eyes. Loneliness was something he was all too familiar with. For the first time in… such a long time… there was warmth that came from someone outside of myself.

He offered, then, to be my focus should the Lonely come to try and isolate and drown me. He asked me for nothing more than to call him Gerry. That, if he had friends, he would have liked to have been called such.

What could I have done but offer something in exchange. I had plenty of resources that may not have been tapped. May have had some unexpected overlap with what they were searching for. So I offered to see what I could find for him.

Then we stopped thinking about all of that for the rest of the night.

There were a few more dates after that. We snuck in more time together between my work and his research with you. I was… happy. We had never put a label on whatever it was we were doing. Friends with Benefits did not quite seem like it covered it, but dating almost seemed too far a stretch. Though perhaps it was just because we were both afraid of losing something again.

I stayed in Chicago perhaps longer than I should have. I gave myself more reasons to stay. My initial stay of couple of weeks turned into a month. He didn’t seem to mind it. At times we were researching together… pulling out old books and records to find anything that would solve his particular problem. It reminded me of the old days… of college. I always enjoyed that aspect of work. Of figuring out solutions to problems, and it was better having someone to bounce ideas off of.

Then with no leads there, he had to go to Pittsburg. With you.

I wish I had noticed it sooner, the symptoms. I imagine we had attributed some of his sensory issues with the near full body scars from burns. The headaches from staring at books too long and forgetting to eat.

We had one more night together before he left with you. I promised to keep searching back home. To find the answers he sought. Perhaps some part of his unconscious knew something was going to happen. Perhaps it was just the simple fact that we knew it may be a while before we would see the other… if we would see the other again.

I am sure we would have found a way, if given the chance.

I didn’t want to let go of him that night. I had held him tight against me, my face buried in freshly dyed hair that I had helped him with.

Perhaps I shouldn’t have let go at all.

He had forgotten his coat in my hotel room. His pack of cigarettes too. Though I now wonder if that was intentional. An anchor. A reminder of him if the Lonely were to come for me. Perhaps it had already come. Perhaps its method was to simply consume my anchor.

I recall texting him, and he simply told me that I could give it back the next time we would meet.

You left his body unclaimed. Abandoned by the one he would have followed to help stop the end of the world.

I should not have let go.

I will not do so again.

As for your little Unknowing Ritual. Its basis has nothing to do with logic. It is meant to confuse and twist things unto the unreal.

You want to stop it? Shatter its fantasies with cold hard reality. The louder the better. Thorough destruction.

I am sure you can figure it out if you apply yourself. Perhaps your answer lies hidden in whatever storage unit Gerry had mentioned.

Now, if you will excuse me, I must find this so-called Catalogue. It was not where you said it would be.

Do not contact me further. It is for his sake that I do not hunt you down. The world can burn for all I care.

Instead, I simply leave you with this reminder: He wanted to trust you.

He was right not to.

Sincerely,

V. Masters

—

Statement Ends

Well that was… certainly something. Perhaps I should have stayed in the states longer and investigated more of Chicago.

Ghosts. Halfas. The latter was not something I could find concrete evidence on. The name was familiar and I asked Martin to dig into some records, and it seemed as though Vlad Masters had indeed claimed Gerard’s… Gerry’s body.

Martin tried to find out more on Vlad Masters. It seems as though he was CEO of a large company and was based in Wisconsin. It appears that he suddenly went missing sometime last month, in June. It was linked to several other disappearances of that of old college colleges of his and their children. Apparently his work revolved around a new energy source based on this ‘ectoplasm’.

Research about that seems to have a lot of missing records. At most, anything that survives at this time were written by those missing colleagues, Jack and Maddie Fenton. They were from Amity Park, Illinois and it seems they all vanished as well.

There was reports of something called a Phantom. Perhaps that is a Lonely Avatar.

Anything other leads we have tried to follow seem to turn up cold. I could go back and search Vlad's home for more clues, but I have a feeling it would just be another dead (heh) end.

Perhaps the Lonely did finally get to him.

I suppose I could look into that storage unit angle. See what this key goes to. I’ll ask Martin and Melanie to help me look into it as well.

[ Click ]

#DP x TMA #DP x TMA Crossover #Danny Phantom #The Magnus Archives #Fanfiction #My Writing #Vlad X Gerry #Vlad “Plasmius” Masters #Gerard “Gerry” Keay #Cross Posted #This has been gnawing on my brain all week #There is an entire playlist I made for this for the vibes #Lonely Ghosts AU

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neoyi · 5 days

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May I ask if you’ve finished Another Crab’s Treasure?

What new opinions on the game arose?

Is there new thoughts on the game overall?

Oh, yeah, I finished the game a bit back.

I liked it, I liked it a lot. I thought the game was fun, in that whole Baby's First Dark Souls kinda thing, which worked swimmingly (no pun intended) for me: I'm Baby. I really appreciate the assist mode; tweaking some of the options have been a life saver for me in completing this game.

The rest is discussing major spoiler territories and I know some friends who haven't finished it yet, so this goes under the spoiler line:

I wasn't expecting it to Go Places in the last stretch of the game, but I found the leap into suitably epic, and downright terrifyingly eldritch realm, to be exceptionally fitting both in the whole "The Ocean is Deep and Unknowing" and a sense of doom it imparts on you from the suffering the ocean itself (maybe? the game is never really clear, but also, it might be the ocean god talking to you?) has endured from human waste.

I'm not surprised the game never reaches a conclusion to fix the pollution these sea creatures naively endure, but I was stunned to see New Carcinia destroyed by the end. It leaves such an open-ended, perhaps even cynical, question of "Well, what now?" None of these characters left the story knowing how harmful microplastics are or what it even IS other than it's trash and it's still something that may or may not be a vital part of their economy, even if it's not for the better. It's damning, but hell if it isn't consistent with its theme of "Fuck Capitalism."

Incidentally, the decision to keep humanity as a whole vague only lends to the vicious cycle these poor souls are stuck facing until they figure out what to do, if they even can. I'm also very fond of keeping said oceanic god as a vague entity as well as much of its ancient past kept as something of a forever mystery (especially so with the only survivor of the old city having bitten it by the end of the game.) I think it keeps the game enticing and just as well, existential.

Like, it's vastly more bittersweet of an ending than I thought. It would verge on hopelessness if not for the overall message it's sending: one individual cannot do much to stop an entire system, but never be complacent. I'm not oppose to pure downer endings, but I like that Another Crab's Treasure presented an ongoing issue that, realistically, doesn't have an immediate, solvable solution, but people who can absolutely GET to that if they're determined and altruistic enough.

So yeah, I would totally get a physical release of this game if it ever happens.

#another crab's treasure #another crab's treasure spoilers #neoyi talks

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chaoticpinetree · 1 year

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I CANNOT WITH THE SEASON 3 ENDING

Okay first of all that episode with everyone's statements before they left was actually pretty cool, two things I found funny is that Daisy just noped out and also that Martin, ohhhhhhh ohhhh his part was so cool because because the thing is.

If a character in any media (book, movie, series, and well, podcast, anything) explains a plan, that plan is likely to fail. If a character does not explain a plan, that plan is likely to succeed. And this knowledge, this... Does not really let me ever watch/read a scene of characters planning anything without being aware of this unwritten rule. And, well, the reason why it's like that is simple: if a plan works, then explaining it beforehand would sort of spoil the surprise and the thrill of waiting to see what exactly the characters are gonna do. So explaining a plan and then watching the characters do exactly that would be boring. And not explaining a plan and having it fail would be confusing and probably also boring because we wouldn't even know where exactly it failed, right?

So the thing is, I found it quite worrying that we knew quite a lot about what the team was going to do to the Unknowing BUT what I found super exciting is that Martin didn't explain his plan and it was very cool.

AND THEN THEN THEN THEN we saw his plan it was cool, it was simple, but actually so effective. Like his only goal was to waste Elias's time but to do that he needed to do something Elias would find worth paying attention to��hence burning the statements. It would be much harder to waste Elias's time with small talk over tea I guess.

"I can't hear you. There's a door in the way." Akjhgdhkjhgdhjhgdhjhgd 10/10

What I find funny is that Elias underestimated Martin to the point where he literally said out loud that he didn't look. Amazing. But also let me tell you, those issues he pulled to the surface, with Martin's mother hating him? Oh damn that's. That hit hard.

I think I was more excited for Martin's plan and then the nightmares' descriptions and the arrest of Elias than for stopping of an actual apocalypse.

But the Unknowing was interesting too, like, the way it was clear that they struggled with thinking, the way Basira had to tell herself out loud 'I am me, there are others that aren't me and this is a place' and all that, that was neat. And then just. Explosion.

And I think that there was something sad but also angstily sad about Tim's 'I don't forgive you. But thank you for this.' Just :C

AND THEN THE LAST EPISODE. AND OH MY GOD ELIAS'S DESCRIPTION OF JON'S NIGHTMARES AJHFGHDGFDGHJHGD

It's like. I tried to ramble to my friends about it but I just. Failed. Because you know it's not only what it's about but also the way they're described that create that unnatural atmosphere. The way he watches every single statement, with the statement givers filled with either fear, scared of Jon, others angry, blaming him for the nightmares, that's so, ahhhhh I don't even have the words.

So like. People give him statements. And it's been established already that he needs their statements to survive. And if the statements are taken live, if a person tells their statement directly to him, it gives both the statement giver and Jon nightmares. Which is incredibly interesting. What's also interesting is what Elias said, that Jon wants to wake up, he's waiting for it, but he's not waking. His mind is alive and so he dreams and wants to awaken but his body is dead and so he has nowhere to awaken to and it's so interesting and dark and also damn. And especially the ending of the description of the nightmare, of him falling into the eye, that suggests some shady stuff happening there.

And I just have. Feelings. Regarding the end of this season. Just ;-;

I loved it so much ;-;

#tma #tma reactions #the magnus archives #mag 117 #mag 118 #mag 119 #mag 120

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hungry-skeleton · 1 year

Text

Person: oh, Ghost Roaster is your favorite skylander? Why?

My brain: okay apart from character design Ghost Roaster is legitimately such a fun and intriguing character. His backstory, when you really analyze it, is pretty tragic.

Ghost Roaster (or his original name, Olaf), was literally just a regular chef seeking out ingredients and ended up falling into the valley of the undead. This forcibly transformed him into who he is now, a skeletal ghoul. This isn't explicitly stated but it can be assumed that upon his transformation he was overcome with unfamiliar urges that lead him to eat an entire ghost village. The reason I say this must be what happened is because he was never said to be a bad or evil person before he fell in, his transformation is what gave him a taste for ghosts and this sudden change in his nature caused him to lose control of himself.

Following this he was chained for eternity so that all ghosts and spirits would know to flee from the sound of his ball and chain. I MUST point out how this is portrayed in game because it only exemplifies how sad his situation is. In game, they didn't make his chain float behind him like a ghost, instead they went out of their way to animate it grinding and sparking against the ground paired with nails on a chalkboard scraping.

So he's completely changed, succumbed to unknowable urges, and got chained for eternity but ohh no we cannot let him stop suffering!! So most skylanders become skylanders for some sort of heroic deed or special ability. So why was Ghost Roaster chosen? Well his flavor text provides 2 different reasons. 1, eon took pity on him. And 2, having a ghost eater on your side would be helpful. So Ghost Roaster did not become a skylander because he was heroic or powerful, he was taken in because eon felt bad for him and found his curse to be useful. Wow!! Fucked up!

BUT HE STILL CAN'T CATCH A BREAK! Because as implied by several other flavor texts around different medias, GR's fellow skylanders still don't trust him! Especially the undead ones, for obvious reasons. So after being taken in by a group because of how pathetic he is and getting avoided out of fear he then comes to realize that when he does actually do something good no one cares! This leads to the plotline of the comic Secret Agent Secrets where he, Boomer, and Voodood join the side of Spellslamzer after getting tired of being tossed aside for newer recruits. Ghost Roaster gets the most spotlight here as he is the most serious about joining the side of evil then the others (and rightfully so tbh!!). There is literally a point where Stormblade has him stuck and he essentially dares her to kill him since he doesn't matter. Goddamn!!! And after all that once he returns to the side of good what does he get for it! Not much! It'll probably happen again!!

Ghost Roaster is just such a wonderfully tragic and fun character I can't help but love him. Even putting aside his story his design and personality are just so made for me. I love this pathetic little ghoul so much and I want him to be happy.. But also since he's my blorbo I want him to suffer more

Me: I just think he's sillay

#Sorry im having blorbo thoughts #skela speaks #Skylanders

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ariapmdeol · 1 year

Text

Fragments, Factors, and Hermit's Room

NOW THAT I AM CAUGHT UP, I need to update my theories! These were discussed and pieced together w/ saintshrine and worldexecutor! I am compiling them for my own reference.

This will contain spoilers for the remainder of the DLC, Hermit's Room, Interlude, and the Interlude and Cell of Mirage reports! AKA, everything that's been released so far.

You can find my other COE theories/analyses here!

THE FRAGMENTS Interlude confirms there are 7 fragments, each with a number in their last name. I believe that each fragment is linked to one of the 'Seven Gifts of God', as described in a book in the Minoru DLC. Paraphrased and in order, they are:

Fear of the Lord, Piety, Fortitude, Knowledge, Counsel, Understanding, and Wisdom.

Thus, we have Hajime Hatsutori (1), Ryu Nijou (2), Teita Miwa/Dita Iliner (3), Wadachi Azuma (4), Daigo Igarashi (5), Misumi Mutsushika (6), and Izu Nanami (7).

The first three are fairly straightforward, especially with the additional descriptions in the DLC's book, but the one that interests me is Izu. In Interlude, it's mentioned that he has CLAIRVOYANCE. A Higher knowledge, and the youngest of the Fragments...

Izu also might be using the body of the original Reiji Isoi. Mutsushika says in the Utsugi DLC that he needs a child (about 10), because he has a younger brother who can't come out into the open. Thus, he needs a vessel. He says later that the kid that Utsugi prepared is too young (four or five), but goes with it anyway.

he's talking about the little Reiji here, who's now a vessel for the 7th fragment/Izu. (credit to worldexecutor for telling me about this theory!). Is little Reiji still in there? I sure hope so, it'd be angsty ^_^

THE SEPHIRA if you remember this cipher from Reiji DLC:

Knowing now that Seodore has the Gabriel Factor, I am operating on the assumption that this refers to Factors like his and Mutei's (Harada factor).

On the sefirot wiki page, it says this:

"The sefirot are described as channels of divine creative life force or consciousness through which the unknowable divine essence is revealed to mankind." "Will and knowledge are corresponding somewhat dependent opposites."

I said before that I think Seodore is 'will', and Mutei is 'knowledge'. This is still true, but I think it means more than that.

I think Mutei's factor allows him to read the source code of the world. He can Know, but he can't affect or manipulate it in any way, which is in part why he's stuck in the Hermit's room. He can Know but he can't DO anything with it directly.

Seodore, on the other hand, doesn't care about understanding it. His factor can manipulate the code, but he can't read it. He just wants to find a world that isn't bound by Arrival Points, that isn't bound by the 'end of the game.' Which draws into focus: We the player are an acknowledged entity. A being that they cannot perceive, yet guides them all the same.

We have a factor of our own as well, that we receive at the end of the DLC:

The factor "Dawn" has been loaded. Please wait for the announcement from Online Station.

This grants us access to the Hermit's Room/chapter select screen, which is interesting and something I need to think more about! HOWEVER. I want to talk about THE LANTERN.

THE LANTERN

At the end of Hermit's Room, we have this:

"The Record Da'at_01 has been saved. Subsequent playback is by the system."

as well as 'Do not trust Mutei Harada."

I looked up Da'at, and found this on the wikipedia page:

In Daʻat, all sefirot exist in their perfected state of infinite sharing. The three sefirot of the left column that would receive and conceal the Divine light, instead share and reveal it. Since all sefirot radiate infinitely self-giving Divine Light, it is no longer possible to distinguish one sefira from another; thus they are one. Properly, the Divine Light is always shining, but not all humans can see it.

I think THIS is what the lantern on the table is. The lantern is the condensed form of every factor at once, which is why it is able to give Mutei a presence in this room. I believe this is ALSO the light seen at the end of the S route, the three rings. By coming to this room, we have Arrived at a place beyond the typical bounds of the game. I think it's the Primum Mobile, the Ninth Heaven of the Divine Comedy. We the player are generally acting from the 10th, in Empyrean Heaven (beyond the bounds of the game), while Hermits Room/the Domain that lets Atou and Seodore tweak the definitions of the world is the Primum Mobile.

Similarly, this is what gives us the chapter select screen as well. Time works differently for us vs the characters.

One Final Cipher: At the end of the DLC, we are presented with these:

e7a59e is the Hexadecimal code for 神, aka GOD. I'm not entirely sure what the characters in front of it say (my google translate says 'draft' for the first, and 're-edited' for the second). If anyone has a more accurate translation, please let me know!

Assuming that the MTL is correct, then the 'draft' of the world is by God, and the 're-written' version is by CODE:DANTE.

CODE:DANTE seems to be at odds with Mutei. I'm operating on the assumption that they're a part of Seodore's group? Kanou is a part of this group too...

MUTEI (bastard) There is one bit in particular I want to bring up in the Interlude Reports. Specifically, CodeData 05-2. He comments (paraphrasing) that if he were God, he'd want to collect all the different outcomes and endings of his world, and that he'd want the protagonist to oppose him and make a possibility he could never have imagined.

....Seodore's already had his turn guiding/influencing a protagonist. I suspect that in Cell of Mirage, it will be Mutei trying to pull the strings. Or rather, I think he's hoping to pull OUR (the player) strings in the hope that we can influence the world (and rui lmao) for him. He does bring up in Hermit's room that he'd like us to apologize to seodore for him, if we can gain access to the world he thought was gone.... Either he's being honest about that apology OR he's doing it as a test to see if we can change the world for him.

Is it possible for a character to resist the player? Can the characters within a story break free of the definitions that Bind them? What is fiction, what is reality, and how does the world within these frames challenge that? I believe that this will be central to Cell of Mirage and it's themes.

also, side tangent, but I think it's fascinating how much Mutei parallels us as the player. I need to think more on this but I absolutely think something is there. Mans wants to play god and I think he doesn't care about the consequences. I need to think about him and seo and rangiri more...

once again, this image is relevant. Mutei Harada is a LITTLE SHIT.

Cell of Mirage and Interlude I will be referencing this translation by fleecedragon! please read through it! I think that Miwa and Eigha are aware of what's to come/their true natures, and Dita and Takagi don't. In interlude, Eigha says several things that seem to imply that he is aware that he is a fictional character, playing a role that he cannot escape.

I THINK HE KNOWS. HE KNOWS THAT HE IS FICTIONAL, and the world will end when the game does. There is nothing beyond the 'Arrival point', so the only way to preserve this world is to never finish the game.

Dita isn't aware of Miwa/Miwa's memories, so I think he's gonna have a GREAT time after he learns that he's fictional ^_^ I want to see Dita have a mental breakdown ^_^

Also I'm pretty sure the fourth wall just doesn't exist for Gajura, as he talks directly to us in his character profile.

#cell of empireo #細胞神曲 #세포신곡 #CellOfEmpireo #aria rambles #aria's analysis #coe spoilers #coe meta #coe theory #gavi no clicky #all spoilers shooould be under the cut #coe dlc spoilers #coe interlude spoilers #coe hermit's room spoilers #cell of mirage #not tagging characters bc. this is analysis focused but not character centric lmao

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