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somanyfuckedupiftruebooks · 1 year

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Mag 37

So the tapes have caught bits and pieces of pertinent conversation before, but it has always been in the process of recording a statement. This is the first time that Jon feels compelled to record information that is not a statement, just in case. It's not a coincidence that this happens immediately after he gets the Web lighter.

Also it's extremely funny how done with this Martin sounds from his first word. How may times has Jon forced him to go through the same sparse details?

I've said it before but it's great that Breekon and Hope just look like delivery men. No notable features, just big, wearing delivery uniforms and speaking in fake accents. Sounds legit to me.

Yes, but consider this: what if you got into the business of destroying knowledge. Maybe that would be a good career move for you.

What is Elias playing at, prompting Jon to destroy the table? If the NotThem gets Jon he'll have to replace the Archivist and restart his ritual prep, so why take such a risky move to try and secure a Stranger mark? Why bother going for a Stranger mark in the first place, if he intends to throw Jon into the Unknowing soon enough anyway? Maybe he (incorrectly) assumes that Jon would have one of his assistants destroy the table instead of going all 'extended sounds of brutal pipe murder' on it himself. Maybe it's a test of some kind?

Or maybe I'm overthinking it and Elias just gets off on watching Jon fuck around and find out.

First time Martin expresses care/concern for Jon <3 They've definitely been spending more time together off-tape. They've got to be basically roomates at this point.

Also the prompt of 'go to sleep dumbass' help us place this in time. I definitely think this statement takes place immediately following the last (instead of with the normal week long gap). Jon ended that statement running off to talk to Martin and starts this one obviously having been speaking to him for some time. In the gap between tapes he has also interrogated Rosie, spoken with Elias and presumably been to see the table in Artefact Storage himself. I think it's safe to say that during the interim everyone else has gone home for the night and Martin and Jon are now alone in the Archives after hours again.

If I'm right about that timing it means that this is the first time we know of that Jon has read two statements in one day (depending on how canon you consider the liveshow to be, and whether or not it 'counts' if Jon reads a genuine statement off-tape as he does in that show). We know the statements can take a lot out of him, so that's got to be contributing to his general state of exhaustion.

Also I've dragged Jon before for recording statements onto tapes that are already running, but in all seriousness I think that at this point the Eye won't allow him to turn off a tape recorder for good without feeding it. Once a tape recorder is playing, it must receive a statement, no matter how confusing it will be for any students or academics using the tapes for research.

I wonder what kind of reputation the Magnus Institute has in the wider world? We know it's generally a bad one, but also we see so many statement-givers coming to the Institute for help. Is that motivated purely by desperation, or is there an idea in the general public consciousness that if you are having a supernatural problem of some sort that TMI can help? We know that the Institute only exists to observe and record and helping people is not on their agenda, but we do have confirmation of instances where they have helped the general public. I am thinking of Piecemeal, where Lee Rentoul talks about how they helped a friend of his who thought he was being haunted realise that he wasn't. Maybe the Institute only helps in cases that have no connection to the Entities? That probably makes the most sense.

Very cool how this statement starts out as if it could be Lonely before taking a sharp turn into Desolation territory. It's not about how alone he is, it's about how much he has to lose.

I can't remember, is this the place where Agnes was born? I know this is the site of Gertrude's binding spell, but did she find the site of Agnes's birth to do this? That would make sense and explain the altar stone in the centre. But I am a bit confused by the trees. They were deliberately planted 50 years ago? The binding would have happened around 12 years ago, so Gertrude didn't do that. It also would have been before she was Archivist? I have no idea when Agnes was born (I have a terrible head for dates) but wasn't it during a forest fire that would have decimated this entire area? I can't imagine that those Lightless Flame freaks were planting new trees afterward. Maybe they just grew on their own because of spooky reasons.

So I happen to be in the car with my parents (two retired nurses) as I'm typing this and asked them what would realistically happen to a guy who drank boiling water. They both absolutely fucking lost it.

Mum: Severe burns all over his mouth and throat! He'd be in absolute agony.

Dad: Not his throat, you'd never swallow.

Me: It doesn't say if he swallowed or not.

Dad: You couldn't. Not in that amount of pain.

Mum: Only if it was literally forced down him.

Me: So you'd need to be hospitalised?

Both: YES.

Mum: Immediately! Your mouth would be absolutely ruined; you wouldn't be eating anything without medical intervention.

Dad: And if there was anything in his throat there's no treatment for internal burns like that. They'd just have to give him antibiotics and hope.

Mum: But he wouldn't have swallowed boiling water, that would be insane. It would just be his mouth.

Me: This says he just lay down for about half an hour to get over the pain, then he sort of just kept going like normal.

Both: Not a chance.

#reeah reacts to tma #mag 37 #a mag a day #the desolation #agnes montague #gertrude robinson

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lycanlovingvampyre · 1 year

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MAG 191 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: mowing the lawn.

Does anyone understand what Martin is mumbling in his sleep? I've listened to this part so many times now, I feel like I'm at work...

MARTIN: "You were sleeping with your eyes open again." You know who else sleeps with their eyes open? Cats! Jon is a cat, confirmed!

JON: "What was I like at Salesa’s?" MARTIN: "Oh, you’d just completely conk out. Eyes open, obviously, cos god forbid the creepy ever stops entirely, heh, but –" JON: "Thank you." MARTIN: "– you’d just be dead to the world. I actually got a bit worried, once or twice, but you always woke up fine. You said you didn’t dream. Sounded pretty happy about it too." Aww, finally some fluffy fan service again! That "Thank you", so amused, so fond!

MARTIN: "Hey, I meant to ask. Do you recognise that woman, Celia?" Hehe, Martin already reacted to her name last episode^^ Lynne Hammond is her pre-Change name.

UNNAMED: "Names are how they see you; they’re how they find you in the files. You can hide all you want, but if they know your name, they can see you. And take you away." Oh, that sounds like some conspiracy bullshit...

I feel Jon so much, I also can't shut up if I hear someone obviously getting things wrong...

MARTIN: "Do you need to make a statement?" JON: "Actually no. I haven’t since we got down here. I suppose it must be the tunnels. Nice to be a bit more in control, although it does feel… odd." That's so good to hear, Jon enjoying just being Jon.

ARUN: "You don’t believe in them, do you? In their power?" OMG, the way he taunts Martin!!! I really can’t with religious fanatics..

I'm with the tape recorder/Web on this one. I think it was very important to record Martin and Arun fighting xD

JON: "I don’t know. I know how Georgie gets about people in her care. If she thinks helping us will endanger them…" That... is really sad to hear. Those are random people Georgie has known for, what, half a year tops? Georgie and Jon used to date. Even if they got into a bad fight when they parted, there has been affection there once. They seemed like halfway decent friend when Jon lived at her place... And these people are now more important to her than Jon? And later it is actually Melanie suggesting to help them in their cause..

JON: "If, however, we find a way to somehow destroy or, uh, eliminate the powers… I’m not going to be okay. There’s too much of me that’s part of The Eye now. I don’t… know what would be left of me without it. Maybe I just die. Maybe I survive, but I lose… something. My identity. My mind. My… memories. I don’t know." We hear later from Annabelle that Jon would survive this and stay more or less the person he thinks himself to be (whatever that means), and I kind of can see that this works... Right now, the Fears exist, the Eye takes up a big part of Jon, and while the Fears exist in this world, in general even if blocked out - sometimes more, sometimes less - that part becomes hollow and can't keep Jon structurally upright and he threatens to collapse. But if the Fears completely vanish, that void goes with them and the empty space can be filled with Jon again and support is once again given. (Also yeah, the tragedy part, he could have been okay and so forth...)

JON: "Martin, when the time comes, I need you to promise me that you won’t try to stop me." MARTIN: "I promise. I love you, Jon." JON: "I love you too." MARTIN: "But I’m not going to doom the world over it." This is super important! I mean, Jon will bring it up again, when the time comes, but this is the origin of their promises and how each of them will think the other one didn't keep his.

MARTIN: "And you have to promise me you’re going to do everything in your power to live. That you’re not going to sacrifice yourself at the first opportunity, just because you feel guilty about what happened" JON: "… I promise." Both of them don't really believe it will come to it, that's why they promise. Martin is so sure, that there is another way and that he never gets in the situation of having to let Jon go. And Jon thinks, in his infinite knowledge, that there's no way this could possibly end good for him..

GEORGIE: "And it’s not like the tunnels have gotten any safer with them hanging around." Wow... How she emphasises "them"... Another thing to throw on the I-don't-like-Georgie pile...

MELANIE: "It feels crap, you know, just doing nothing." GEORGIE: "We’re surviving. And trying to help others do the same. That’s not nothing." I mean on the scale of "trying to save the world" and "doing nothing" that's pretty far on the "doing nothing" side... And this will be Georgie's suggestion in MAG 199...

MELANIE: "and I’m sick of people acting like I should feel so super-sympathetic towards him, just because he’s had a rough time of it. I’ve had a rough time of it from the second I met him!" You can have had a rough time yourself and still show empathy...? This isn't a competition. I get not liking people, you don't have to like everyone, that's simply not possibly. But a bit of empathy for others also isn't like the hardest thing in the world...

Bit sad that Melanie ended up still hating Jon. I felt like she did have character progression at the end of S4. What happened to "He's welcome as a friend"?

GEORGIE: "Well, we’re not going up the tower, but… yeah. I want my cat back." Finally something we can agree on!

Oh and just last episode I was wondering if the recorders ever clicked on themselves without either Jon or Martin being present? Well, at least after the change I can say they do! xD

@a-mag-a-day

#a-mag-a-day #mag 191 #tma #tma spoilers

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karuvapatta · 1 year

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Nothing like this was supposed to happen, but someone mentioned Jon and Elias dancing, and I. I couldn’t resist. I am weak. I also don’t know how I’m going to edit this into a cohesive story, but??? That’s a problem for the future.

Do let me know if you’re enjoying this fic, though! :3

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

***

For some infernal reason, Elias makes them suffer through an office party.

His assistants flat out refuse to come, but Jon is a department head, and should make at least a token appearance. They’re celebrating an anniversary of the establishment of the Institute, and Jon very much does not care which one it is—

--one hundred and sixty years—

But at least the wine is nice.

Elias drags him around and introduces him to his benefactors: Peter Lukas and Simon Fairchild and some others, old men with more money than common sense. Jon shakes Peter’s hand and feels the cold, creeping fog curl around his feet; looks into empty eyes and can’t see or hear anyone else—

Elias’s hand curls around his bicep, proprietary and way too presumptuous.

“Do not startle my Archivist, Peter,” Elias says. “He’s rather shy.”

They all laugh at Jon as if he were an object, paraded around for their approval. Well, Jon couldn’t care less about it, so he smiles through clenched teeth, makes whatever small talk he deems unavoidable, and excuses himself at the earliest opportunity.

He sulks at the top of the balcony and watches the colourful crowd milling below. How many of them are of the Beholding, then? How many serve other Powers? There are patterns there, he can feel the shape of them, but they don’t make sense to him yet. And wine makes him unsettled, overly warm; he can feel his inhibitions melt away, stupidly texts Wish you were here to Martin, because wouldn’t it be nice to have a shoulder to lean on?

Mostly, however, he watches Elias. He seems awfully close to Peter Lukas; even now, they stand together, caught in a whispered conversation, Elias with his hand on Peter’s shoulder, leaning a tad too far into the man’s personal space for it to be accidental…

They both look up, and catch Jon staring. Jon shudders; the men just laugh.

Thankfully, some of his former colleagues from Research are here. They ask polite questions about his new position, but are mostly just content to discuss old stories and their current projects. They miss Sasha; Jon lets her know via text, and receives a heart emoji in response. It’s almost pleasant. Easy enough not to wonder how many of them are aware of the Eye’s watchful gaze.

But he does wonder. He can’t help but wonder.

Do they know they can’t leave? Everyone’s acting like nothing is amiss, and it’s driving Jon insane. There’s a buzz in his head that he’s trying to drown out with more wine, that prickling sensation of constant surveillance, the underlying awareness that all these happy, smiling, innocent people are doomed, that they have already signed their freedom away, that there is nothing Jon can do for them…

He lets the conversation drift around him and then, eventually, away. He doesn’t seek out company afterwards, content to sleepwalk through the Institute halls, paying no attention to anyone and receiving none of it in turn. It is peaceful. It is terrifying.

“Archivist.”

The voice is vaguely familiar. Peter Lukas, his mind supplies – captain of the Tundra. The fog thickens around them, muffling sound and light. He can still see people, they are still there, but Jon doesn’t know them. Doesn’t care to know them. Certainly no more than they care to know him.

“Captain Lukas,” Jon says. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

His voice drifts through the mists. Peter laughs.

“You know, I could very easily take you right now,” he says. “Snatch you right from underneath Elias’s thumb. Wouldn’t that serve him well?”

Jon shrugs.

“Can’t imagine he’d care.”

He can’t imagine anyone would care. Jon could stay here forever. Probably should. It’s not like he’s making much of a difference out there – all of his actions only serve to make the situation worse.

Except Elias would care – he might care about the failure of his pet project. But he can replace Jon easily, can he not? Sasha would make a great Head Archivist. She’d get the position she had always wanted, that should have been hers in the first place, that Jon had stolen from her. Tim won’t have to suffer Jon’s entitlement and paranoia, won’t be looking at him as if Jon was going insane, won’t have to struggle with that seething rage… and Martin… Martin deserves someone better. Someone who will treat him right, and not as a punching bag or a source of emotional support.

He can feel the cold, damp fog seep through his clothes. Its tendrils creep along bare skin, leave him shivering. But that, too, passes; he stands still, numb to the mist that will swallow him whole. He can see nothing, hear no one…

“How are you doing this?” he asks.

Peter Lukas is a shadow in the fog, his voice coming from somewhere far, far away.

“I’m not doing anything to you, Archivist. You’re doing it to yourself.”

“But why?”

He knows why. It is one of the Powers, feeding on his fear, the way it did to Naomi Herne, Carlita Sloane, Andrea Nunis… their statements float through his memories, each one stark and clear, even though everything else slowly sinks back into the fog. They made it through. And Jon took their fear and committed it to tape, picked it apart and studied it, filed it away with all the others, fed on it, and for what? What good does it do? It cannot help him now. It didn’t help them. It never helped anyone.

And if he stays here, it never will.

Jon shakes his head, his hands. He is shivering now, chilled to the very bone; he can barely feel the tips of his fingers, where they’ve gone pale and cold and numb.

“That’s not a very nice trick to pull at a gala, of all places,” he says irritably.

The fog is melting away. Or perhaps it was never there in the first place. But he can see people, real people, moving about them, exchanging idle gossip, laughing, flirting. There’s music playing, an honest-to-God string quartet that Elias always insists on bringing to these events if no one manages to stop him in time.

“I disagree. There’s something deliciously ironic about it, wouldn’t you say?” Peter grins. It’s not a very pleasant grin; his eyes remain lifeless, cold.

Jon wants to argue, but his teeth are chattering. Low temperatures never agreed with him, and it’s been even worse recently. Has he lost weight? It might explain why even his suit was hanging a bit awkwardly off his frame, much as the rest of his clothes. Huh. He had attributed it to stretched fabric, but perhaps…

He feels the warmth of another person, stepping up smoothly on his right to place a hand on his shoulder. For a brief moment he feels the brush of fingers on the nape of his neck, just above the collar of his ill-fitting jacket; warmth blooms beneath his skin, like a ray of sunshine on an otherwise cloudy day. He has to forcibly hold himself still not to burrow into that heat, push his way all the way into its nice, secure embrace, and soak up everything it has to offer.

Because it’s Elias. Of course it’s Elias.

“If you wanted to dance, Peter, you could have just asked,” Elias says. His tone is pleasant, almost playful, but narrowed eyes and stiffness of his posture betray the irritation he must be feeling. “No need for such underhanded tactics.”

“But you love them so,” Peter says. His smile, when he addresses Elias, is a touch more genuine than the bland expression he has for everyone else. Jon is trying very hard not to consider the implications of that, mostly because he is still shivering and it’s taking all of his willpower and whatever remains of his dignity not to cling to Elias’s warmth like a swooning maiden. Peter gives him a short, unreadable look, and turns back to Elias. “I will see you later. Take better care of your pets in the meantime.”

“I do not recall asking for your advice, but thank you nonetheless,” Elias says smoothly. “Shall we?”

The last question is directed at Jon. He finds himself nodding numbly, content to follow Elias’s in their not-quite embrace, up and until he notices where Elias is leading them.

“No,” he says.

“It’ll warm you up,” Elias says.

“I am not dancing with you.”

“Whyever not?”

Because I hate you, Jon thinks aggressively, making sure to stare directly in Elias’s eyes. Out loud, he says: “Because you’re my boss, half of the Institute is here, and I don’t want to fuel any more inane gossip.”

Elias sighs dramatically. “You care way too much what other people think of you. I, for one, think it is a splendid idea.”

And of course he manages to manoeuvre Jon exactly where he wants him: the middle of the dancefloor, among other couples, who are swaying to the music with varying degrees of skill or a sense of rhythm. And of course Elias’s hand slides down Jon’s back, to rest below his shoulder blade; his other reaches for Jon’s hand and tugs it upwards, curling warmly around stiff, frozen fingers.

“Elias,” Jon whispers urgently. “I can’t dance.”

He doesn’t know what to do with his free hand, or his legs, or the rest of his body. Their new position puts them awkwardly close, facing each other, even if they have to angle their heads for their eyes to meet. Elias has him more or less trapped in the cage of his arms, and if his self-satisfied smirk is anything to go by, doesn’t intend to let go any time soon.

“Just follow my lead,” he says, smooth as you please.

And then, suddenly, they are moving.

Elias shifts his body weight forward, barely giving enough warning before Jon has to scramble backwards, to avoid colliding with his leg. He clutches onto the fabric of Elias’s suit, and stares down, trying desperately to mirror the movements of Elias’s legs. Which are, annoyingly, a bit longer than his own, their stride much longer. And smoother. And more self-assured.

“Look at me, Jon,” Elias murmurs.

He’s moving backwards now, and Jon has to race to catch up with him. His gaze never leaves Jon’s face. Miraculously, they don’t collide with anyone; he wonders if Elias is keeping an eye on the dancefloor from a higher vantage point, like one of the portraits or any of the Eye-shaped embellishments.

“This isn’t helping,” Jon gasps.

He steps on Elias’s foot; Elias barely seems to notice.

“Try to relax,” Elias says. “Let me lead you.” He pulls Jon closer, much closer; the distance between them is now scant few inches. His steel-grey eyes are hypnotizing to look at, even as Jon’s thoughts scatter. “Trust me.”

Jon isn’t cold anymore. He is fairly sure he must be burning up, from shame and mortification. And he can’t hold Elias’s gaze, not from up close, so he shuts his eyes instead, and considers his options. Make an utter fool of himself by causing a scene? Continue to stomp on his boss’s feet at this very public event? Or actually try to dance, blend in with the crowd, and pray no one is paying attention?

Of course, that would require putting his trust in Elias Bouchard, which is just about the last place Jon ought to be putting it. He knows this. He isn’t stupid. But so much of his life is already in the man’s hands; it’d be a strange place to draw the line.

He exhales, slowly, deliberately, praying that some of the tension bleeds from his muscles. He shifts his posture, leans back in Elias’s embrace and rests the weight of his back more securely against his hand. He loosens the death grip he held on Elias’s fingers, allows their fingers to lace together. And he tries to respond to Elias’s movements, tries to feel the rhythm of his breathing, the changes in his posture and the way he gently steers Jon’s body with subtle movements of his hands.

He still can’t look. He cannot look, he feels too awkward, but otherwise it is almost—nice. To surrender in this manner. To the rhythm of the music, to the flowing motions, to Elias himself. He feels light on his feet, possibly because Elias is half-carrying him now, as they glide their way across the dance floor. He will probably regret this later, but “later” feels like a foreign concept and, for now, Jon simply lets go.

There’s a pleasant haze in his mind, so unlike the cold, creeping fog from earlier. It clouds his senses nonetheless, to the point where Jon barely registers that something has changed; music stops and they stop with it, their breaths quickened, Elias’s pulse racing beneath Jon’s touch, Jon’s own heart not falling far behind. The hand at his back dips ever so slightly, fingers splayed wide, almost at his waist. Elias’s suit is rumpled at his shoulder where Jon has been clutching it earlier; he smooths it now, as best as he can, and tries not to shiver when Elias exhales against his ear, whispers something that might be Jon’s name.

Jon opens his eyes.

This was a mistake. This was all a horrid, unforgivable mistake. Elias’s mask of smug self-satisfaction seems to have slipped away; there’s colour in his cheeks, his lips remain slightly parted, and his steel-grey eyes seem vulnerable and open in a way Jon has never seen them before. It would be easy, so very easy right now to look deeper, to see past Elias’s carefully maintained defences, to see him. All of him. And there’s a hunger gnawing at Jon now, the burning need to examine Elias’s thoughts and emotions, to have all his secrets uncovered, to peel away each and every layer of his mind until he is laid bare before Jon… and the worst part of it is that he knows, in this very moment, that Elias would let him.

They part so suddenly that Jon can’t tell who moves first.

#jonelias #honk twice if you want me to stop spamming the tag #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #the magnus archives

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fox-guardian · 2 years

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it is approximately. 1 and a half am. Which is prime time for writing some quick post-prentiss martim hurt/comfort straight into my tumblr drafts, as we all know.

After the Weather Clears

It wasn't too far from the work day's end by the time Jon let Martin go after giving his statement. Martin had had a long day, and was exhausted. Right now, he just wanted to get out of that horrible dead-worm-filled basement. When he got outside, finally circling from the back entrance to the front of the building, he was surprised to see Tim sitting on the front steps, covered in bandages and sitting stiffly, staring ahead but looking as though he's seeing nothing in front of him.

"Tim?" Martin called, getting only a vague hum in response. "I thought you were heading home already?"

"I was," he started, sounding exhausted, still staring straight ahead, "but then I remembered that you've been living here for months. Do you even have a place to go back to?" His words came out almost muffled, like he wanted to move his mouth as little as possible. Fair enough, for a man with holes in his cheeks.

Martin.... hadn't even considered that. He'd been so worried about the whole worms and murder thing from today that he forgot he had been living in the archives for so long. He hadn't exactly been able to receive his bills, much less pay them, so odds are he lost his flat. He'd had most of his belongings with him thanks to Tim and Sasha helping to retrieve them, but.... well. At least what few items of sentimental and monetary value he owned, he took with him in his little move.

"Yeah, I.... I don't know," he finally responded.

Tim didn't nod. He just gave another vague hum. "I figured. Figured you could use a place." He turned slightly, just enough to look Martin in the eyes and give him a small, painful smile. "How's mine sound?"

"Tim, you-" he sighed. He'd been to Tim's place before, a few times. It was a nice house with plenty of room for them both, and he enjoyed Tim's company, so it wasn't like he didn't want to go. He just didn't want to impose. Tim had enough to worry about, he doesn't need to worry about caring for Martin on top of his injuries. But it's not like he had much of a choice. "Y-Yeah," he finally said. "Yours sounds good."

"If it makes you feel any better," Tim said, starting to stand, "I'm also asking for more-" he grimaced in pain, struggling to lift himself from where he sat "-selfish reasons."

Martin instinctively reached out to support him under his arms. Tim winced at the contact, but allowed him to help him upright.

"I...." Tim hesitated, looking as far downwards as he could without stretching the wounds at the back of his neck, "I don't want to be alone right now. Sasha already left, and Jon.... I can't put this on him, he's as rough as I am."

Martin held his arms gently, applying as little pressure as he could. "I get it. I-I don't think he'll be out for a while, though. I-I mean maybe we should wait for him?"

"No offense, Martin," he said, glancing up at him again, "but I don't think Jon would want your help with his injuries."

Martin frowned. "Why not?"

"Hey, not saying he's not missing out. Just..." He winced and then sighed, a bone deep tiredness seeping from his lips. "I don't even have the energy to quip about it. You know he's stubborn, I'll text him or something later, saying we'll help him out if he wants. But...." He leaned into Martin just a bit, as if he wanted to collapse against him, but thought better of it. Then he spoke again, weakly, his voice cracking a touch. "Please just take me home."

And who was Martin to deny him?

He gently led him to the sidewalk, where he hailed a cab for the both of them.

".... And you do know that this isn't actually selfish of you, right?" Martin asked as the cab slowed to a stop in front of them.

"Yeah," Tim said as Martin opened the back door. "Was just trying to be funny."

Martin nodded and quietly helped him into the backseat before hopping in on the other side and giving Tim's address to the driver for him.

It had been a long day, but he had a feeling he still had a long night ahead. But he was happy to be spending it with Tim, at least.

#fg's writing #the magnus archives #tma #martin blackwood #tim stoker #martim #after the weather clears #i hope the cut works #also i did edit this at a more reasonable time but if the 1am-ness remains. my bad i guess #edit: cut did not work aldjslsjs #edit 2: CUT NOW WORKING

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ollieofthebeholder · 11 months

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

Chapter 22: July 2016

Tim had to fight down the urge to panic when he rolled over in the morning and realized he was alone in the bed. The bed was cold, the pillow undisturbed, but that didn’t mean anything, he told himself firmly. After all, Jon’s clothes were still where he’d left them the night before, wadded into a forlorn little ball, so he couldn’t have gone far. Probably he’d just gone to the bathroom.

Swinging his legs out of the bed, Tim crossed over to where he’d left his own clothes, folded on the dresser. Strange that Jon, who was usually meticulous and exacting about everything, hadn’t even bothered piling his clothes neatly, although the slightly stretched-out jumper Martin had draped around his shoulders was laid out almost reverently. As Tim pulled on his trousers, though, he stopped, noticing the stains and smears on the khaki bundle on the floor.

Of course. Jon had been hurt, pretty badly—likely Martin had too. He’d bled onto his clothes, and they were smeared with…whatever Prentiss and the worms had left behind on things. Corruption, Tim thought. His stomach flipped at the thought.

Yeah, they were going to have to burn those, he could see that a mile away.

The press of his bladder was getting too great to ignore, so Tim just grabbed his shirt and headed into the hallway, trying to remember which door Melanie had said was the bathroom. He found it quickly enough—the door was slightly ajar—and slipped in to take care of business. Once done, and as presentable as he was going to get, he went in search of anybody.

The house was built in a square pattern that looped back in on itself, and after passing a couple of doors that were still firmly shut, he found himself stepping through an open archway and into a bright, cheerful kitchen. It was far larger and more open than he would have expected, well-appointed and well-lit, a few plants in pots on the windowsill and a round, well-scrubbed table off to one side. Melanie stood at the sink, rinsing something off.

Tim cleared his throat, not wanting to startle her. “Uh, morning. Have you seen—”

Melanie shushed him and jerked her head towards a door behind her. “In there. Keep your voice down.”

Slightly bewildered, Tim went over to the other door and eased it open, revealing the living room they’d sat in the night before. Martin was still in the loveseat, his feet propped up on the coffee table, sound asleep in nothing but a vest and a pair of loose cotton shorts. The bigger shock to Tim was that Jon was there as well, also sound asleep but cuddled up against Martin’s side, Martin’s arm draped around Jon’s shoulders and pulling him snug. His face pressed against Martin’s chest had warped his glasses slightly askew.

Tim withdrew into the kitchen and pulled the door most of the way closed. “Should we go in there and, I don’t know, at least take their glasses off?” He at least understood why she’d said to keep his voice down. They both had to be exhausted.

Melanie shook her head. “Well, you know Sims better than I do, I don’t know him well enough to know if he’d be okay with someone messing about with his face when he’s asleep. But there are too many people in the house for Martin to sleep with his glasses off.”

Tim closed the door the rest of the way and drifted uncertainly towards Melanie. “What do you mean? Uh, can I do anything to help?”

“You can stir the filling. Even if Andy didn’t take the food processor with him when he left, it’s still cheating.” Melanie set a bowl on the counter and headed for the fridge. “Martin’s thing with being able to see Marks is stronger when he’s not wearing his glasses. And he’s tired and hurt. The glasses give him at least a little bit of control over it.”

“He needs that,” Tim agreed softly. There’d been precious little in his life Martin had been able to control in the last few months.

He washed his hands while Melanie dumped ingredients into the bowl. As she handed him a fork, she asked, “Your last name’s Stoker, you said?”

“Yeah?”

“Any relation to Danny Stoker? The model? You look kind of like him.”

Tim froze, just for a second. Striving to keep his voice even, he said, “Yeah, he was my brother.”

Melanie stiffened, obviously having caught the verb tense. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

Tim mumbled what he hoped was acceptance of her apology, and they lapsed into silence. He didn’t know exactly what they were making, but it didn’t take a genius to guess what he was supposed to do with the sugar and cheese in the bowl in front of him while Melanie worked with something else. After a few minutes, without looking up at him, she said, “It’s not your fault, you know.”

For a horrible minute, Tim thought she knew something about Danny, about how he died—and really, if anyone would know, it would be Martin and his siblings. “What?”

“Yesterday. The whole thing with Jane Prentiss. Anything that’s happened to Martin. It isn’t your fault.” Melanie scowled at him, but it wasn’t unfriendly. “You couldn’t have known.”

Tim tried to laugh. “Reading minds, Ms. King?”

“I know big brothers,” Melanie pointed out. “I’ve got two of them. And it’s not like I never feel responsible when something happens to them, and I’m the baby.”

“Martin’s older than you, then?”

“Technically. We’re nine weeks apart. Practically twins, really. But of the three of us, he’s the caretaker.” Melanie whisked furiously. “And don’t think I don’t know you’re changing the subject. He does that, too.”

Tim managed a smile. “Touché. Seriously, though…I should have checked on him. Wouldn’t you have? If he’d—if she’d texted you to tell you he was staying home sick?”

“If she’d texted me, I’d have gone straight to the Institute and laid everything out for you lot first, so we could have formulated a plan.”

“A plan? To take care of Martin?”

“To save him.” Melanie sighed at Tim’s bewildered expression. “Look, I’ve known Martin for twenty years. In that entire time, he’s been sick enough that he’s actually taken time off to heal once, and it was less that we convinced him to take care of himself and more that he fainted and spent the next three days with a fever so high he was delirious. He’s the kind of guy who says ‘I’ve just got a bit of a headache’ when he’s dealing with a migraine so severe he can’t see more than an inch in front of his face, or that he’s ‘a touch tired’ when he’s running on three hours of sleep in four days. For him to actually call off work, he’d have to be actively dying, and even then I wouldn’t put it past him to drag himself in if he thought it wasn’t contagious and he’d make it through the day so you wouldn’t have to be inconvenienced by his corpse in the middle of the office.”

Tim’s stomach lurched. “If I’d known that, I’d have been over there that first day.”

Melanie raised an eyebrow at him. He knew that expression—had got it from Danny more than a few times. “And you’d have walked straight into Jane Prentiss completely unprepared.”

“And Martin wouldn’t have been trapped for two weeks.”

“Yeah, all right, maybe. But do you have any idea what it would have done to him if you’d been hurt or killed checking on him? He’d never forgive himself. Hell, it took Gerry almost four years to convince him it wasn’t his fault he’d gone to jail, and he didn’t even have anything to do with what happened to Mary.”

“He worries too much,” Tim muttered, as if that wasn’t the biggest case of the pot calling the kettle black.

Melanie actually cracked a smile. “We’ve been saying that for years.”

She went over to the fridge and bent down to do something—Tim couldn’t see what—but she spoke without raising her head. “If you’re going out to smoke, go the long way around. Martin’s still asleep.”

Tim turned, surprised, to see Gerard standing—lurking really—in the doorway behind him. “I wasn’t going out to smoke.”

Melanie snorted as she extracted herself. “Is that because you’re finally actually going to quit this time, or because you don’t have a pack handy?”

“Martin’s still asleep, you said?” Gerard rolled his eyes at Tim, but he’d seen the flash of guilt in them before he crossed the room to the opposite door.

“I don’t think he’s had much lately,” Tim volunteered. “I mean, sleeping in the Archives isn’t exactly restful.”

Gerard eased the door to the living room opened and peered into it, then closed it carefully and turned back around, eyebrows raised as he looked at Melanie. Tim thought he was going to comment on Jon and Martin cuddling, but what he said was, “Hell of a peace offering.”

“Make yourself useful, or get the fuck out of my kitchen,” Melanie grumbled.

Tim shifted slightly to make room for Gerard as he came over and reached into the cabinet above his head and got a smile for it. It was a bit off-kilter and tired, but surprisingly attractive. Tim found himself automatically returning it. “Sleep okay?”

“Yeah, actually.” Gerard sounded surprised. “Didn’t think I would, but I did. You?”

“I did, thanks.” Tim glanced at the jar Gerard pulled out of the cupboard. “Cherry preserves?”

Gerard nodded, running his thumb over the seal. “When did you buy this, Neens?”

“Just after your birthday,” Melanie answered.

She wasn’t looking at Gerard, but Tim saw the look of panic flash across his face. Dropping his voice low enough that Melanie—hopefully—couldn’t hear him, he said, “Three months ago. It’s the end of July.”

“Thanks,” Gerard muttered. He set the jar on the counter and peered into Tim’s bowl. “Hey, that’s pretty good.”

“I’ve made plenty of cannoli in my time.” Tim shrugged. “Mum’s parents came over from Italy during the war.”

“What part?”

“Not sure. They never really talked about it.”

Gerard hummed and unhooked a thin, shallow pan from the rack. “You could probably look it up.”

Tim checked the consistency of his mixture and set to with the fork again. “I never saw the point, really. Nonno always said there was nothing for them back there, so I reckon anything they did leave behind, they wanted left there.” He’d always suspected his grandfather was a deserter, actually, or at least that he’d fled to avoid being conscripted.

Gerard nodded solemnly. “Sometimes the past should stay in the past.”

Melanie took the pan from Gerard. To Tim, she asked, “Do you eat bacon? I won’t ask you to cook it if you don’t, but Gerry would burn a salad.”

“I only did that once,” Gerard protested.

Tim tried not to laugh too loudly. “I can do bacon. You’d think we’d be vegetarians at this point, but…”

“Gotta take pleasure where you can, mate,” Gerard said, clapping him on the shoulder. His hand was like ice.

The door opened a few minutes later as Melanie was swatting at Gerard’s hands with a spatula to keep them away from the first of the incredibly thin pancakes she’d turned out. Martin slipped into the room and froze briefly when he saw Tim, then relaxed and forced a smile. “Morning. Sleep okay?”

“Like a rock. How are you feeling?” Tim reached out to touch his shoulder, then stopped, not sure if he could or even if he should.

“Okay, I guess.” Martin rubbed his forehead and accepted a hug from Melanie, which made Tim feel a bit worse. “I don’t suppose you grabbed any of my trousers when you were digging through the stuff Mrs. Mattson tossed out, did you?”

“No, just your papers and jumpers.” Melanie looked a little embarrassed. “It’s…I mean, if you don’t—”

“I can run back to the Archives,” Tim volunteered, a bit hesitantly. He wasn’t sure he wanted to, or if he’d be able to, but…“Your stuff should still be there.”

“If it’s not covered in ichor. Or residue.” Martin sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll…deal.”

Melanie cleared her throat. “Um. I do still have everything Steph made in my closet. You know, as an alternative to the Trousers of Trauma.”

Gerard turned away for a moment. Martin looked like he was about to protest, then snorted. “You know what, can’t hurt at this point. I’ll be right back.” He slipped into the hallway without another word.

Tim flipped the bacon carefully. “Who’s Steph?”

“Pete’s ex-girlfriend—that’s Peter Warhol, the sound guy for Ghost Hunt UK,” Melanie added. “She’s a fashion designer and she was planning to audition for some big thing a few years back, but she’d never designed for plus-sized models and she thought it’d give her an edge. Martin was the only person any of us knew who could be considered ‘plus-size’, so we talked him into being her model.”

Having only ever seen Martin in collared shirts and worn khakis obviously purchased off the rack at a charity shop, Tim was momentarily distracted by the thought of him in a bespoke suit. Before he could make a complete ass of himself, or burn the bacon, the door opened again and Jon came in. Tim took one look at his face and said, “He’s getting dressed. Morning, boss.”

From the way Jon relaxed, Tim knew he’d been right about what was worrying him. “Good morning, Tim. I—thank you. I, uh, I should…probably get dressed as well.”

“In what? Unless you packed a spare change of clothes yesterday, what you were wearing when you turned up was pretty near ruined,” Melanie pointed out. She sounded annoyed, although Tim wasn’t sure about what. “You’re fine in what you’re wearing. Martin was just in his underthings.”

At that, Gerard turned around and gave Melanie a comically shocked look, which she ignored in a way that was painfully familiar. “Breakfast will be ready in a few. Hope you like cherries. Actually, I don’t care if you like cherries or not, that’s how things work.”

“When one is a guest in someone else’s house, one eats what is put in front of one,” Jon said automatically, like he was reciting a lesson, then seemed to catch himself. “I like cherries just fine. Um, is there, ah, anything I can do to…help?”

“You can set the table. Dishes are up there.” Melanie jerked her head at a cupboard. “And yes, I do actually mean those dishes.”

Jon gave Tim a slightly bewildered glance, but crossed over to the cupboard without another word.

Tim was starting to realize this was a ritual of some kind. Melanie and Gerard’s movements had a practiced familiarity to them that indicated they’d done this dance a thousand times, and Melanie’s insistence on things being done exactly right spoke less to a need for perfection and more to superstition. Whether Jon realized it or not was debatable, but he didn’t argue about laying out the plates, which looked far too fancy for a family breakfast to Tim. Jon, however, handled them as though they were perfectly ordinary, and he at least seemed to know not to ask questions. Or maybe he was too tired.

Sasha came through the kitchen door just as Melanie put the finishing touches on the pancakes, then glanced over her shoulder and held the door. “Morning—oh, that’s really nice. Is that a Stephanie Marchbank?”

Tim looked—and did a double-take as Martin paused in the doorway. He was wearing a t-shirt that had obviously been washed numerous times—and also probably hadn’t been his to begin with, since it was stretched tightly over his torso—tucked into the waistband of a tea-length, flared, pleated skirt in a buttery yellow. It flowed around Martin as he shifted, rippling in the light. It, unlike the shirt, had clearly been made especially for him; it actually flattered the shape of his lower body. He ran a hand down the front of it. “Yes, actually. How did you…?”

“I’ve got one of her suits; I recognize that waistline. It’s kind of her signature at this point.” Sasha nodded. “Looks good on you. That’s not off the rack, though, is it?”

“Uh…no. She was dating one of the Ghost Hunt UK people while she was putting together her portfolio for Finish Line Catwalk, and…I dunno, she thought being able to show she could design for a broader range of sizes might make the difference or something.” Martin shrugged as if it was no big deal, but those parts of his face not covered in bandages were starting to turn pink.

“Sasha’s right, it looks good on you,” Tim told him, and got the satisfaction of seeing that pink get more intense. He turned towards Jon, intending to rope him into the discussion, but the words died on his lips. Jon was staring at Martin with eyes so wide they seemed to fill his glasses, looking utterly dumbstruck. It did look good on Martin—Tim hadn’t been lying about that—but the look on Jon’s face could not more clearly have telegraphed the words oh no he’s hot if they’d been tattooed across his forehead in flashing neon.

Tim couldn’t help it—he grinned. “See? Jon agrees.”

Martin’s blush deepened further; Jon sputtered and quickly tore his gaze away. Gerard drew himself up to his full height and folded his arms over his chest, opening his mouth, but Melanie smacked his shoulder hard as she passed him. “Everyone sit down and eat.”

The pancakes looked and smelled amazing. Tim wasn’t a big fan of cherry preserves, but he didn’t argue when Melanie spooned them over the pancakes on his plate, and it turned out to be pretty good. The bacon had come out well, and there was plenty to go around. Tim was surprised to find he was actually hungry.

“We did miss dinner last night,” Sasha reminded him when he mentioned it. “Everything kicked off right after lunch, and I for one wasn’t thinking about food by the time it was all said and done.”

“No, nor was I,” Jon murmured. “There were…a lot of things I wasn’t thinking about.”

“We can talk about last night more after we’ve eaten,�� Martin said, softly but firmly. “Don’t invite it to sit at table with us.”

Gerard broke off a piece of bacon. “Neens, how’s the show going? Look into anything interesting lately?”

Melanie paused, fork halfway to her mouth, and Tim noticed Martin’s hand tighten slightly on his mug. Her shoulders tensed. “We’re…on hiatus right now,” she began, then seemed to deflate. “Indefinitely. I, um, I don’t think it’s going to start up again.”

Gerard stiffened. “Why not? Is it Pete? I always thought that little shit was no good—”

“No. Well, he’s part of it, but it’s not just him. It just…we fell apart. Toni moved to Bristol in March, and never told me. I had to hear it from Pete, who said in the same call he was thinking about leaving, too. Then Andy said he wanted to take ‘a bit of a holiday’ from the show.” Melanie nudged a cherry around her plate for a moment before spearing it. “I thought we might keep it going with a new crew when he came back from his trip, but one morning I woke up and all his stuff was gone. And some of mine, too, I might add, but whatever. Not like I used the curlers that often anyway.”

“So you’re unemployed?”

“For the moment, yeah.”

Gerard hesitated. “Well. Um. Dumb question, but…”

“It’s all in storage, and the premises are currently being used as a secondhand clothing shop, but the lease is up at the end of the month and they’ve already said they don’t want to renew.” Melanie raised an eyebrow at Gerard’s slightly astonished look. “Don’t think I hadn’t already thought about that.”

“In that case, you’re hired. I was trying to work up the nerve to ask both of you to help me reopen it after I got back, anyway,” Gerard admitted. He shot a look at Martin and added, “Don’t worry, I won’t now. I know you can’t.”

Martin smiled feebly. “I’ll still help, you know.”

Melanie snorted. “I didn’t imagine we’d be able to stop you.”

Tim didn’t say anything, but he exchanged a glance with Sasha. Neither one of them would blame Martin for quitting after what they’d all gone through. It was just a question of whether he would, or whether he’d stay out of some misguided attempt to protect them. Or Jon.

Since asking about it would probably violate the don’t invite it to sit at table rule, Tim applied himself to his pancakes and tried not to think about how much lonelier the Archives would be without Martin in them.

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #tim stoker #melanie king #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #gerard keay #sasha james #death mention #trauma mention #smoking mention #mild panic

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sucreboy-blog · 1 year

Text

Little worms in my brain (Jon and Martin TOH setting)

No manches! For those who haven't seen TOH “Watching and Dreaming”, the Collector's brothers are called Archivists, and do you know who else is also Archivist? Exactly! Our dearest favorite neurotic and paranoid: Jonathan “Jon” Sims AKA The Archivist.

I just finished the episode so I'm really excited rn but but but, imagine the following scenario…

-Jon is an Archivist who ended up stranded for reason A or B, in one of the different realms they travel and cannot return to his brothers.

-Martin finds Jon and takes care of him, Jon is very confused about what is happening.

-Angst with comfort(optional).

-End

With this scenario we can find several premises:

1) Martin is a witch in the times before Emperor Belos, in other words, they still practiced wild magic (I guess from the period where Luz and Lilith met Philip). Jon is an Archivist, he travels with his brothers collecting, documenting and preserving specimens, information and knowledge, these last two on which Jon focuses the most.

Jon ends up for some reason landing on the Boiling Isles, confused and having zero knowledge of how to live in society (he may Know a lot, but knowing social cues is not one of their strong suits), he goes and does something stupid.

Martin seeing this man (person who presents as masculine? Or non-binary?) infuriating all of the people he speaks with, decides to help him when things started to get a little too violent.

Jon (although he doesn't really know himself as Jon at the time) outraged decides to use his powers to get back to his brothers or maybe teach Martin or the others a lesson but surprise surprise, they don't work.

2) This setting is similar to the first one but set-in a modern human world, not really as medieval as the first but similar premise.

In this case, I imagine Martin as a customer service worker, he arrives at work (it can be a cafe, a self-service store, a McDonald's, etc.) and sees the most beautiful man(?) he has ever seen in his life, but he is dressed a really strange clothes (facial make included?) and talking non sense at his co-worker.

Jon does something stupid, the usual, tries to cross the street, almost gets run over, says the wrong thing to the wrong people, and Martin like the good samaritan he is, helps him. Jon gets mad and surprise surprise, again, his powers don't work.

(My mind runs through different scenarios of Martin teaching Jon how the human realm works, maybe set in Gravesfield or London but they end up going to Gravesfield to find a way to get Jon back home, meeting Luz and the others in the process?)

3) This scenario is a bit different than the previous two and it deviates from the orginal formula.

They're archivists, so I would imagine they must have their own archive or some kind of community archive, and they obviously employ assistants. So Martin is someone who ended up as an assistant to an Archivist after his dimension was "archived" by them.

There may also be different scenarios, but these are the three main ones that I feel I've the most developed, although we must not limit ourselves to these.

It could be that Jon was attracted to the Fears from the original TMA universe and wanted to classify them but got caught by mistake (Elias involved because he obviously wants to take advantage of Jon, dominate the world classic), or a completely different fantasy or sci-fi world where events happen more similar to the first scenario but with their own different set of rules.

From here you can add as much "spark" as you want. Elias manipulative? Of course! Either as an archivist brother or as a person who wants to take advantage of Jon. Peter? depending on the version there may even be Dad!Peter and it also depends on your level of self-inflicted masochism Dad!Peter can be a distant father (or father figure) trying to connect with his son or just pure Angst.

Tim, Sasha, Melanie, Georgie, Basira and Daisy? Of course! Add them as witches, demons, humans, etc.

Tim and Sasha can be humans, so are Melanie and Georgie but they, especially Melanie, have their youtube channel on paranormal investigation. And Basira and Daisy would be in the demon realm (Obviously if premise 2 or variations is chosen).

Add different avatars that can be friends or enemies, put all this together and have fun!

I was really excited, sorry, I have zero motivation and concentration to write a story like this, but I wanted to share:)

#the magnus archives #the owl house #listen listen Im not crazy I SWEAR

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werewolfwriter323 · 8 months

Text

Hello! I don't usually post any of my shit online, but I am tired of all my writing and drawings just sitting on my computer, so I figured I'd just dump it on here.

I'll start with my TMA AUs, just cause I've got a lot of those, lolz.

(Also please note that none of these are finished writing, just the ideas that I had at the time.)

WerewolfWriter323's The Magnus Archives AUS

Mashups with other media

The Magnus Archives X Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood

This is going to be a Mashup of the two worlds, and it will follow a similar storyline with Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.

The Fullmetal Archivist?

Fears and Their Avatars/Alchemists

Envy- The Stranger

Lust- The Web

Gluttony- The Flesh

Wrath-The Hunt

Greed- The Corruption

Sloth-The Buried

Pride-The Dark

The Slaughter- Kimblee

The Eye-Father (Also Hohenheim and later Edward)

The Desolation- Roy

The Vast- Mei

The Spiral- Olivier Mira Armstrong

The Lonely- Alphonse

The End- Scar

The basic plot follows Edward as the head archivist of the Archives in the basement of central command. I will post a more detailed layout and stuff in a separate post.

Mother May I (An AU inspired by Ella Enchanted)

So in this AU Martin is the one cursed to obey.

The story goes as follows, one day when he was a preteen. Martin was taking care of his mother and happened across a Spider that was an agent of the Web. While taking it outside, he wished to himself that he could just do better and actually obey what she tells him to do. The Web grants his wish, and now Martin is Marked and bound by the web. He now has to follow any direct command that someone gives him, he can try to disobey, but if he does, webs will appear and start to tear into him, until he does what he was commanded.

The story then skips to him as an archival assistant, we learn that Martin is still bound by the web, but he had seemingly been learning to live with it. Also a side note, we learn that Martin has the free will to tell others about being "cursed" by the web, but he chooses not to, fearing that someone might either use it against him or not believe him.

182 Days Later (A 28 Days Later AU)

So this is an AU set after Jon wakes up from his 6 month coma. Before he woke up a ritual was attempted by the Slaughter and The Corruption at the same time, and while it technically failed, it released a blood borne virus that causes people to infect others with the slaughter, this allowed it to start quickly becoming widespread all over the UK. When he is woken up by Oliver Banks, the virus is in full swing, and he now has to try and survive and find Martin, who left him a note that gave him very little information about where to go, or what was happening.

Jon tries to Know where he is, along with Georgie. But because Martin is heavily marked by the lonely at this point, and Georgie not having any fear, he isn’t able to see either of them. He also tries to Know more about what’s going on outside, but when he Sees, it’s all chaos and rampant infection killing each other in a rage. It quickly becomes overwhelming, and Jon decides to just go out and look for himself. After he goes outside, he ends up getting attacked by a few rage-infected people, as he is running away he gets saved by Georgie. She has the admiral with her and she is trying to find Meline.

The plot would then follow Jon and Georgie as they try to find Martin and the rest of the Archival crew.

Branching from the original universe.

TMA Private I/Eye AU

The basic idea that I had for this AU is that Jon still manages to get beholding powers, but has started his own Private Investigator agency, and uses his beholding powers to solve crimes and the like. Sasha is the head archivist at the Magnus Institute, and her two assistants are Tim and Gerry. She occasionally goes to Jon for help if she wants to actually do something more with the statements, then just organize them.

Martin becomes Jon's assistant/secretary after he comes upon his hiring sign on his way home from grocery shopping.

Furry/Anthropomorphic AU

Archivist +Archival Assistants

Jon-Havana Brown Cat

Martin-Highland Cow

Tim-Golden Retriever

Sasha-Roe Deer

Melanie- Egyptian Goose

Brashira-Though/draft breed horse

Daisy-German Shepherd

Avatars

Elias- Short Eared Owl

Jane Prentiss-Sheep

Peter Lukas-Ringed Seal

Not-Sasha-Baboon

Micheal Shelly-Blue Ring Octopus

Helen Richardson-Platypus

Jude Perry-Camael

Julia Montauk- Beagle

Trevor Herbert-English Foxhound

Nikolia Orisinov- Chimp

Oliver Banks-Crow

Simon Fairchild- White-throated Needletail

Mike Crew-Buzzard

Annabelle Cane-Pipistrelles Bat

Statement Players

Gertrude-Red Fox

Jurgen Litner-Mountain Hare

Gerry Keay-European Polecat

Breekon & Hope- Siberian Huskies or Altai Horses

Agnes Montague- Common European Adder

Others

Georgie-Borzoi (Black furred)

So that's the basics of them for now. I am going to be posting more about them soon, and I'll individualize and tag the posts accordingly.

Please feel free to ask any questions or anything about my thought process and stuff.

#the magnus archives #tma #tma au #tma aus #fullmetal alchimist brotherhood

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suttttton · 2 years

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re: vampire polycule, does Elias let everyone come as they are to the reunions, Jon included, or does everyone have to be Happy To Be There? Do the other symbionts who don't wanna be there get to see how scared Jon is, and reach out to him, or does he have to be Happy so no one can tell which of the others wants out and who'll turn them in for trying to find a way to get away? WHAT is the tone of these reunions, every option is so tragicomic...

(context)

this is going to be long and scattered because i have so many thoughts, but to sum up: the tone of the reunions is so, so deeply weird, and there's no possible way jon is prepared for these people he's about to meet.

the thing is, elias does, on some level, think it's bad and morally wrong to use his powers to overwrite his symbionts' emotions and personalities. but he is willing to make exceptions for extenuating circumstances (like ordering jon to 'make good choices'), special occasions (like making jon's transformation night nice instead of traumatic), or, you know, because he's frustrated or annoyed (he can always change them back! as long as he doesn't forget).

so by the time they get to the reunion, i think elias would have lifted the order for jon to be happy (side note: at some point over the weekend jon got to have a nice cathartic cry about this whole situation, don't worry). jon, having come to the conclusion that the best way to protect himself is to go along with whatever elias wants, is trying to pretend that he's very happy to be here. but jon's a bad liar and is still adjusting to the idea that elias can and will change anything about him at a moment's notice, so everyone can tell that jon is Having a Rough Time. elias isn't very happy about that, but he's hoping meeting the others will help

so they walk in and jon initially thinks, 'oh, all of these people have been ordered to be happy to be here' because they're not crying and screaming or whatever. but then he meets melanie who's just blatantly like, 'i would slaughter you if i could, elias.' and elias??? doesn't do anything??? obviously jon gravitates towards talking to her and she's like yep i hate it here anyway here's the rundown of everyone here and how tolerable they are to interact with.

i think there's a bit of a generational divide between the older symbionts and the younger ones, both because there's a world of difference between being 30 and being 130, but also because elias used to be a lot more transparent in the process of acquiring people. it used to be that the second time elias bit you, he would tell you what was happening and what becoming his symbiont would entail and give you the choice to come or not. (of course, there was quite a bit of coercion involved, especially because vampire venom is addictive from the first time you're exposed to it, but the illusion of choice was there at least.) however, after some... incidents, elias switched to the current model of erasing your memory of him until you literally can't leave :))))

so it's hard for the older ones to empathize with the younger ones, and vice-versa. the only one of the older ones that melanie really deems trustworthy is jonathan, who is skeptical about the morals of this situation and gives jon tips about how to make sure elias isn't slowly eroding his true personality (@this-is-such-a-bad-decision suggested that they could make written notes about elias' orders in order to remember who they actually are)

the #1 person on melanie's Do Not Trust Ever list is martin because this vampire polycule situation has been nothing but Benefits upon Benefits for martin, and he even lives with elias, which is suspicious as hell. (in reality, martin doesn't really want to be here, but elias is paying for his mother's care home, as well as providing him with a very nice place to stay, and good food, and nice clothes, and he doesn't even have to work except letting elias snack on him whenever he wants, and Oh God he's a vampire sugar baby How Did He Get Here????)

the other important dynamic at play that jon finds out the hard way is that elias isn't remotely fair and equal in what he's willing to tolerate in his different symbionts. (he has different relationships with all of them, obviously!) he's fine with melanie outwardly hating him, but if anyone else tried that? absolutely not. so jon is basically guessing at what elias wants from him, and it's very very stressful!!!!

#geez turns out i had a lot of thoughts about this wow #asks #vampire polycule #my fic #inklingofadream

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milkteamoon · 2 years

Text

Haunt

First of hopefully several ficlets in an October prompt challenge?? I haven’t done one of these before, but we’re going to try our best!

1k words, s2 spoilers (read on ao3)

—

“So......you believe in them?”

Jon pauses his idle pen clicking, looking up from the statement that he’s been attempting to read for the past twenty minutes. He can’t seem to help his wandering mind as of late, and nothing about the tight-knit webbing handwriting is making deciphering the thing any easier.

“In what, specifically?”

“Oh, um. I-in ghosts?” Martin answers. He’s standing at the bookshelf on the opposite wall, a fresh box of files perched under one arm and the other wedged in the toppled heap of what was once the January-1950-to-December-1954 shelf. Jon doesn’t say it to his face — doesn’t want Martin getting a big head or anything — but he is grateful that there’s someone around here with a modicum of organizational skills, of which Martin seems to have retained at least the bare minimum of from his library days. Plus, it keeps Martin out of trouble, in his line of sight. Jon would be cleaning up his office himself, you know, if he didn’t have to juggle a newly added cane alongside everything else.

Martin continues, “I just......well, I know you said you do actually believe in these types of things, which there’s nothing wrong with—”

“I know there’s nothing wrong with it, Martin.”

“I-it’s just the ghost thing, I’m...having trouble seeing it, I guess?” He adjusts the box, lets out a huff of a laugh, and then adds, “Honestly, I’d probably believe it more if you’d have asked me if I were a vampire or something.”

Jon scowls, suppressing his sigh with his hand but being careful not to lean to heavily into the bandages still blotting across his face — along with the rest of him, mind you. It’s honestly a bit ridiculous how long he has to spend changing them each night. But they still bleed if he pulls at them, still ache if he pokes, so the past few weeks have been a lot of tiptoeing around his own mess of a body; he can’t afford to take more time off, but painkillers only get a man so far, and...well. He’s only man, sadly.

Jon picks up his now-cold mug, swirls it around. Where it’d lain sits a water-worn circle in the wood, but it’s been there much longer than his memory could supply. “It’s......complicated,” he answers, taking a sip and choosing, very kindly, to ignore the attack on his character.

“Complicated how, exactly?”

“Well, erm. I wouldn’t say I believe in them in.........the traditional sense. It’s more like, um...” Hm. How to put it. Jon’s eyes roam around his office, across the hole still yet to be patched, the broken shelf that started it all, the half-worm-eaten boxes of old files that had outlived his predecessor and would probably do the same for him, and then up to Martin. And then he snaps his fingers. “Quantum mechanics.”

Martin blinks, blankly.

“I’m sorry?”

“Q-quantum mechanics,” Jon repeats, the confidence slipping out under Martin’s blank stare, “It’s uh...it’s a physics theory.”

More silence. Martin only continues to stare.

“I-it deals with particle motion, but one of the key aspects of the theory is the concept of superpositions. The sum of its parts, to put it simply, but with waves and quantum states.”

"Um...okay......?" Martin says, but his face still continues to test all its muscles as he looks at Jon like he’s begun sprouting worms from his ears. Or a pair of extra eyes. Jon slots his mug back into its ring and slowly checks for both before sighing and picking up the statement he’d been glowering at.

“Look, take this,” he says, holding it up as an example. “Each page is its own object, capable of being read and understood — these are quantum states.” He then begins to lay them down upon the desk, one after the other into a neat stack. “But if we put them together, then we create the statement. The superposition — the sum of its parts, which while not required for us to understand, helps to assign more.....meaning to it, I guess.”

Jon looks up to find that Martin has placed his box on the ground and slowly shuffled closer. Jon pushes the statement forward so he can see — over a sharp line in the wood he hasn’t noticed before. Like a knife cut, his brain supplies, but deliberate, with no stray scrapes. No blood either, though he doesn’t know why there should be any.

Jon continues. “If we work with the assumption that time follows the same properties as particles, then we can think of it as an infinite wave, stretching out unknowably long across its axis. Each point would therefore be the superposition of the quantum states in space that make up said moment. Its layers all smushed together to make...this.”

“Like tea,” Martin inputs, “when you add the cream and sugar.”

“Sure,” Jon says, even if tea seems like the least appropriate analogy in this context. “W-well, we can only comprehend our own quantum state — our own point in time, if you will — even though we, technically speaking, are the sum of many points. And when the edges of our state begin to thin and we notice the sum of our superposition, we can’t......really understand it. So we try to rationalize them as manifestations. Supernatural events, o-or—”

“Ghosts.”

“...Right.”

Martin looks at him. Jon looks back. Jon feels like he’s been doing a lot of that, lately, looking at Martin — a lot more than he used to, at least. A lot more than he ever really wanted to, but now he feels like their lives keep bumping elbows with each other and there’s nothing he can really do to help it. He can’t help it. He can’t help the way he stares at Martin’s matching bandaged hands, or the hairline fracture along the left frame of his glasses. Something from Prentiss, perhaps, or maybe it’d been there longer. Like the rings in the finishing around Jon’s mug. Or the notch in the wood, which he runs his pinkie finger along.

“You know,” Martin begins, cracking a half smile, “I feel like it’s a lot simpler to just believe in the concept of souls upset with the afterlife.”

Jon only manages a huff as he rolls his eyes.

“So you...do believe in them then?” Martin repeats, but softer. More understanding.

Jon doesn’t meet Martin’s gaze, and instead picks up the statement in front of him once more. A short one, in retrospect; barely two pages of jumbled script, a clear contrast from the typed font at the header of the page. 1992. Hazel Rutter. Something about a house fire, which seems completely mundane and not at all supernatural. Probably just another crackpot rambling, if experience has taught him anything. Something Jon really doesn’t need with all the added work already.

He pushes his chair to the side of his desk, then drops the statement into his haphazard “discredited” pile for later.

“I don’t know, Martin,” Jon mumbles, rubbing his eyes, “maybe.”

#WE'RE WINGING IT. WHOLEHEARTEDLY #literally decided to do this yesterday so I have nothing planned ahead pls keep me in your thoughts and prayers #tma #magnuspod #my writing #tma fic #the magnus archives

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wtpthedemon · 2 years

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Lonely Tim in the archives time

Okay so this is part two of the Timothy Lukas au rant XD An au where Tim gets adopted by Peter lukas when he's around 8. He and Danny were adopted by different people.

Here's the context on how Tim grew up you don't need it for this post as this post is focused on the institute and the archives but it gives some context involving danny ^^

Anyway here's me explaining more of this au XD

Okay so after the incident where Tim saves Danny from the circus, Danny is rightfully scared and terrified. So Tim does his best to comfort his brother but being a lonely avatar that just sacrificed some of the circus' dancers does not make it easy. Danny begins to worry about what's going on since his brother is just a normal person raised in a rich environment right?

The call he gets from a person Tim called grimaldi over the phone didn't help calm his nerves.

So Danny begins to look for more on his brother and begins to worry he got replaced by something supernatural or became a monster in the time they hadn't had contact.

He finds some stuff and urban legends which causes him to become suspicious that Tim has been lying to him. Especially when he learns about the rumours and stories surrounding the Lukas family and specifically the tundra which Tim mentioned was his father's ship. So he ends up joining the magnus institute as a researcher to figure out what's going on despite Tim trying to discourage it.

That's when he find out that Tim is Elias stepson, more reason not to trust Tim added to the pile.

Tim visits and helps the institute out often enough that he's considered an honorary employee of the institute even before Danny joined it. He often brings new artifacts, comes to bring information or a statement giver but he also just visits the institute to see elias.

He's known as Lukas Jr by most people and is seen as a bit weird due to his tendency to talk a lot. When it comes out that Danny and Tim are brothers Danny often apologises for Tim's behaviours.

Still Danny does his best to act normal since he doesn't want Tim to get suspicious of him.

Then Danny gets assigned to be an archival assistant for Jon by elias. Tim is absolutely furious at that when he finds out, immediately going to elias the next day and punsbing him in the face. (@4bsent-damascus made a great one shot about this btw ^^)

After that Tim introduces himself to the archive crew, accidentally talking too much (which danny apologises for, Martin and sasha both don't mind). Jon is annoyed at the interruption so Tim offers to take everyone to lunch in a restaurant he likes. Danny tries to deny since he knows how this ends.

At the restaurant Martin, sasha and Jon realize how expensive this place is and immediately worry that Tim could easily get fired even though Tim just meant it as a friendly gesture and not a powerplay. (Later on they assume he could easily pay to get them fired)

Behind the scenes Tim works to keep Danny and his new friends safe since he cares or him. Martin isn't stuck by Jane as long as in canon although Tim does let her go since elias asked him to do so and he owed elias a favour. Makes sure the table with the not them is extra secure so sasha doesn't get replaced when the worms attack.

Tim still keeps everything about the fears a secret though until Jon compels him since he knows how dangerous it is and doesn't want to hurt the few people he feels like he has genuine connections with besides his dad.

So that's until where I thought about so far

I do have a couple of extra notes though ^^

When Gertrude was the archivist he got along with Michael and Eric sometimes babysat Tim

Gerry and Tim know eachother, Gerry doesn't trust Tim but they don't hate eachother. They could even be called friends.

Elias only finds out about Tim when Peter comes one day with Tim saying he couldn't find a babysitter for him.

That's the au so far ^^ hopefully you liked it

#tma au #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #tma bugass #lonely tim #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #timothy stoker #peter lukas #danny stoker #elias bouchard #peter you're still a dad #timothy lukas au

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flywolfwriting · 2 years

Text

Paranoia Sharp as a (Bread)Knife

Jon was not a brave man, but he was growing used to the idea. Not everyone could be brave - not everyone needed to be brave. It was okay to not be brave.

The point was, he didn't know what had come over him. He'd been so angry about Helen, but it's not like he could have made Michael bring her back. Of course attacking him hadn't gotten him anywhere - nowhere except stabbed. Of course that's where it got him; Michael's fingers were basically knives. Of course Jon had leapt without looking. Of course he was here.

He'd stayed still for some time, watching for more doors, but only his normal office door remained. Jon thought about waiting for someone to find him, but he disregarded that idea quickly; he couldn't let anyone see him like this. What if whoever found him was Gertrude's murderer? They could easily take advantage of his weakened state. No, best nobody saw him.

That meant he had to find a way out without crossing paths with anyone and with as few doors as possible. The canteen would likely be empty; no one should be on lunch this time of day. Getting upstairs that way had the added benefit of only one door - his office. After that it would be a straight shot outside. That would be the hardest part to do without being seen, but first thing's first: the canteen.

Jon slowly stood, using his desk to help pull himself to his feet as he ground his teeth against the pain. He gave himself a moment to let the world stop turning, then made his way to the door. He hesitated for a long time before finally reaching out and turning the knob.

Nothing beyond the ordinary; just his assistants' desks surrounded by piles of books and statements, the main staircase leading to the rest of the institute on the wall opposite. It would be a shorter path, but a more populated one. Not safe.

He turned and staggered down the hall, one hand pressed to his side and his other using the wall for support. Each step was harder than the last. Jon had to stop and rest at the bottom of the stairs, breathing hard and struggling to hold back a whimper with each exhale. He couldn't remember ever being in so much pain.

How long had it been? Would anyone notice he wasn't in his office? Had he closed the door? He needed to hurry; if anyone came looking for him…

Dragging himself up the stairs was one of the most agonizing experiences Jon had every subjected himself to. By the time he reached the top he was all but crawling, held upright only by his grip on the railing. He'd left a splattered trail of blood, but he didn't have it in him to care at the moment. Nobody but the archives team used these stairs, and all of them had already gone on break. Nobody would see the stains until tomorrow.

Jon rewarded his victory by leaning against the counter and taking deep breaths until he stopped crying. He still had so far to go just to leave the institute, and then he still had to get a block over to the A&E… he was lucky they were so close.

"Oh hey Jon, when did-"

He whirled around and finally the pain was too much; he cried out, collapsing back into the counter and sliding down its front to land hard on his butt. He curled his knees to his chest and clutched at his side. His lungs struggled to remember how to work, drawing air in ragged gasps as Jon's side screamed.

"J-Jon? Are you oka- oh my god." Martin's hand was at his elbow, trying to draw his hands away from his side.

Jon flinched. "Don't touch me!"

The movement caused his vision to darken for a terrifying moment, but he saw the flicker of hurt over Martin's face as he pulled away. "What happened?"

Jon frantically cast about for an excuse, anything but the truth - Helen was as good as dead because he'd failed to save her. His eyes caught on the handle of a knife poking out of the sink. "I, ah, cut myself with the bread knife," he said.

Martin's gaze flicked to the object in question, eyebrows twitching upwards. "The bread knife."

"...Yes."

Martin's frowned. He reached forward again and Jon cringed away. "Let me look," he said, voice somehow soft and commanding at the same time. Jon grudgingly shifted so Martin could see, refraining from stopping his assistant when he gently lifted his shirt out of the way. Martin inhaled sharply. "I'm calling an ambulance," he said, standing and reaching for his phone.

"No!" Jon scrambled to his feet, leaning heavily against the counter and choking back a scream. Why did moving hurt so much?

Martin stopped and turned back to him. "That's going to need stitches; you have to go go the hospital."

"I can get there perfectly fine on my own," Jon said through gritted teeth.

"Jon, you can barely stand-"

"I made it from my office, didn't I?" Jon snapped, and didn't realize his mistake until it was too late.

"Your office?" Martin said. "You said it was a bread knife."

"It. Was."

Martin's lips pressed into a thin line but he didn't question it further. "Fine," he said. "No ambulance, but I'm taking you to the A&E."

Jon started to protest, stepping forward, but his traitor legs wobbled and he collapsed again. Martin caught him, quickly adjusting to not put additional strain on the wound.

"You're losing a lot of blood," Martin said, face pale.

Jon got his feet under him again and tried to push Martin off, but his assistant wouldn't release his shoulders.

"I can carry you-"

"No!"

Martin made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. "Fine! Just let me help you!"

There was really no point in arguing now; Martin had seen, and even if he was lying about something Jon didn't think he'd go to all this trouble just to kill him somewhere else. Both of them, and the kitchen, were smeared with Jon's blood anyway. He couldn't get away with it even if he did want to murder him. Jon finally nodded. "Okay."

"Thank you." Martin carefully guided Jon's arm around his waist and wrapped his own around Jon's shoulders to support him, leaving Jon free to press his remaining hand against his wound. "I don't drive," he said apologetically, "so we're going to have to walk, unless you've changed your mind about-"

"I haven't," Jon said. He needed to focus on putting one foot in front of the other or he wouldn't make it. It would be absolutely humiliating if Martin had to carry him. He couldn't let himself be that vulnerable.

Martin sighed but didn't argue, merely adjusted his grip on his boss and steered him down the street. They got a few looks, but for the most part they managed to keep their heads down. Or maybe Jon simply stopped noticing, focused on staying conscious as he was.

Only a few people occupied the seats in the A&E waiting room, so Martin guided Jon to one in the corner before going to the desk to get the paperwork. Jon sank gratefully into the chair, swallowing great gulps of air and willing the pain to go away. He wondered, if he'd actually undertaken the journey on his own, if he would have made it. He pictured himself collapsed in a gutter, bleeding out, unnoticed until someone called the police on an apparent drunk.

"Jon."

He looked up to find Martin sat next to him, holding out a clipboard for him.

"You have to fill this out."

"I've been stabbed," Jon muttered blearily, taking the paperwork. "What else do they need?"

Martin's eyes narrowed but he merely shrugged.

When Jon started writing his hand was followed by a smear of blood across white paper. Martin gently took the clipboard and pen back. "Maybe I should write for you," he said.

Jon nodded. He should be suspicious of Martin's motives, worried about the personal information he was freely telling his assistant - his suspect, the man he knew without a doubt was lying. He had the proof tucked in his drawer. Right now, though…

He was just too damn tired.

He tried to stay awake. They were in a public place with cameras so there’s no way Martin could make a move against him, but he couldn’t let his guard down. Martin was just trying to win his trust, but he didn’t know that Jon knew he was lying. Still, try as he might, Jon found himself nodding off, slumping against Martin’s shoulder.

Jon was suddenly jostled roughly awake by Martin shaking his shoulder and repeating his name, eyes wide with worry. Before he could fully process this, he was being pulled to his feet by unknown hands. Panic rose in Jon’s throat and he flailed his arms weakly to fend off his attackers.

“Jon! Jon, it’s okay, they’re taking you back now, it’s alright,” Martin soothed, grabbing Jon’s wrists and gently but firmly holding them still.

Jon’s vision slowly cleared enough that he could see the strange hands did in fact belong to doctors - doctors who were now frowning at him. They began to guide him towards a wheelchair, but the moment Martin began to sit down instead of following Jon panicked again.

“M-Martin!”

His assistant looked up in surprise, then his gaze flicked to one of the men holding Jon up. The man shrugged. “If you can keep him calm, you can come back.”

Jon sagged with relief and allowed them to settle him in the wheelchair. He stiffened when they reached the door but before he could protest they were pushing through into the sterile hallway of the A&E. As soon as he was settled in a bed they were attaching IVs and making calls and Jon couldn’t follow along anymore. He was just so tired. Assured that Martin wasn’t going to leave him to the mercy of the doctors Jon allowed sleep to pull him under.

—--------------

Quiet cloaked the room when Jon came to, the steady beeping of machines the only sound piercing the fog. He didn’t want to wake up, but he didn’t like to sleep either; plagued as his dreams were by statements. He didn’t mind this half-existence, floating on the edge between sleep and consciousness. It was peaceful. No thoughts, no dreams… only him.

Jon slowly became aware of throbbing pain in his side, just below his ribs. It was dim, but there with each beat of his heart. He groaned.

Immediately there was motion. “Jon?”

His eyes snapped open. Martin sat to Jon’s left, watching him with wide eyes. “Martin, what-”

Moving was definitely a bad idea. Pain flared through him and Jon dropped back with a yelp. Martin jumped up. “Do you need anything? I can go get a nurse-”

“No, no,” Jon said quickly, “that’s not necessary.”

Martin hesitated, but sat back down. It was only then Jon became aware of Martin’s hand resting on his own. He looked down where they lay on the blankets and Martin snatched his hand away, face flushing and looking anywhere but Jon’s face. “You were out for a while,” he said with a cough. “You lost a lot of blood and needed a transfusion.”

Jon grimaced. “How long have you been here?”

“The whole time; they let me stand in the corner for most of it.”

“Most of what?”

Martin shrugged, still not looking at him. “Just cleaning it and stitches really. It’s not very deep.”

Jon wrinkled his nose, grateful he at least hadn’t been awake for that. He was not a fan of needles. “Why didn’t you leave?”

Now Martin met his gaze, startled. “Y-you asked me not to,” he said.

Well that didn’t sound like him; he hated Martin. Right? But… he didn’t want to be left alone. Not here.

A gentle knock came from the door and Jon jumped. Fortunately it was merely a nurse checking in, smiling when she saw Jon. “Oh good, you’re awake. How do you feel?”

“Like I got stabbed,” Jon said flatly. Martin made a noise in the back of his throat but was once again avoiding looking at him.

The nurse hummed. “You’re lucky; the wound is long, but shallow. As long as nothing changes, you should be able to go home in a few hours.”

Jon sighed in relief.

She checked the machines before leaving. She didn’t close the door, at Jon’s request. As long as he could see into the hallway, Michael couldn’t trick him with a false door.

They sat in awkward silence for a while, not looking at each other. Martin fidgeted with his hands. “Tim called,” he finally said.

“What did he have to say?” Jon said acidly.

“J-just… they went looking for you and found your blood all over your desk. He thought maybe…”

“I wound up like Gertrude.” It came out flat.

“Erm… yeah.”

“Bet he was disappointed to find I’m alive,” Jon muttered.

“Jon, you know none of us are trying to kill you,” Martin said reproachfully. “Why would we want that?”

“I don’t know, why would anybody want Gertrude dead? I certainly didn’t, and I ended up with her job, which makes me the next target!”

Martin growled with frustration. “I wish you would just trust us!”

“How can I?” Jon snapped, then took a sharp breath as his side twinged.

Martin’s face immediately softened. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t argue. It’s just… I- we’re worried about you.”

Jon looked away and they fell back into silence, the machines a metronome to time passing. Finally, Jon broke the silence. “Thank you.”

“What for?”

“...Staying with me.”

A small, shy smile tugged at Martin’s mouth and Jon had to firmly remind himself that he hated him. “Of course, anytime. Oh- um, that is to say, I don’t want you to get hurt, just, um, if you need help. You can count on me.” His face burned red again.

He could be a murderer, and don’t forget he’s lying about something.

“Yes, well.” Jon sighed. “I wonder how long they need me for.”

It turns out they didn’t need him much longer. They loaded him up with pain medication and antibiotics, cleaning instructions, and informed him the stitches would dissolve on their own. Thank goodness for that - he didn’t want to have them taken out. It would be too much like… well, it would be unpleasant.

Martin insisted on taking a cab back to Jon’s flat with him and seeing him inside and settled on the sofa, a large bottle of water and a cup of tea on hand.

“Do you need anything else?”

“No, Martin, I’ll be fine,” Jon said, exasperated. He hadn’t wanted this much help anyway. He certainly didn’t want his assistant hanging around, hovering over him in his own apartment. “Go home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Martin suddenly grew stern. “Oh no, you are not going to work tomorrow. You are going to stay right here and rest, like the doctor told you to.”

“Martin-”

“Jon.”

They stared at each other for several beats before Jon relented. “Fine! Fine. I’ll take tomorrow off.”

Martin relaxed. “Do you want me to stop by?”

“No, Martin. I’m fine.”

He frowned but turned away anyway. “Call me if you need anything,” he said, then left, locking the doorknob on his way out.

Jon stared after him for a long time, sitting in the dark of his apartment. He didn’t move until hunger drove him to the kitchen. He turned on all the lights, made sure every door was open, heated up canned soup, and settled back on the sofa.

Martin’s shy smile and flushed cheeks danced through his mind. “If you need help. You can count on me.”

Jon let out a heavy breath. “Fuck.”

-------

AO3

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monorayjak · 1 year

Text

Magnus Archive Characters' MTG Color ID

(In no particular order)

Ground rules: These are largely my personal opinions, so feel free to disagree and suggest your own readings of the characters. This is coming from someone who loves the Magnus Archives, but I've only listened through it one time, so my memory is likely to be iffy in some regard. I'm also reading this through my own interpretation of the color pie to some degree (which is largely the same as the normal color pie, but with a few things I feel line up more closely with a color that the creators have said lines with a different one). I'm going to try and limit myself to just 12 characters, and I will try to nail them into 3 or less colors.

Spoilers for the entire series in some regards:

Jon: Jon's curiosity is both his greatest strength and his greatest weakness. With his emotional connections to others acting as his anchors to humanity as the series progresses, especially in regards to Martin, I don't think it's hard to see him as solidly blue/red. He has glimpses of both white and black as the series progresses. Becoming willing to use his powers to get what he needs and losing himself to them a bit and feeding off innocents is heavily black; but his desire to self-sacrifice in the pursuit to help others, both at the end of the series and his trip to retrieve Daisy from the coffin, as well as his desire to see the entities unable to escape to hurt others in another world is very white. All in all, I think Jon is primarily blue/red.

Martin: Martin is, to me at least, the heart of the Magnus Team. He slowly becomes more willing to hurt others as the series goes on, especially notable during the final season where he encourages Jon to use his powers to kill the Avatars/Monsters they come into contact with. Despite this ruthlessness, I don't see Martin aligned very heavily with black. He's certainly prominent in red due to his empathy and emotional thought processes, and he has both aspects of white and green, desiring to help others and caring for his family, both literally in the form of his mother, but also figuratively in the family the Magnus Team has slowly formed over their time together. With all of this in mind, I heavily think Martin is either red/white or red/green/white.

Tim: Tim. Ah, Tim. Tim is a man with a singular goal in mind: learn what happened to his brother. He acts goofy and lovable during the first season (and is throughout his time in the series, but it gets progressively less), and seems to genuinely care for at least some of his coworkers. With this information I have to say Tim is most likely either mono-black or black/red.

Sasha: Sasha. Sasha is intelligent, adaptable, caring, and a character who tries to help. She may not have had her light shine for long in the series, but by God she made an impact. I have to say she is blue/red/white.

Melanie: Melanie is... difficult to color. At least for me. Her inquisitive nature cries blue, her emotional outlashes cry red, her ruthlessness in her goals cries black, and her desire to completely disconnect herself from the fears cries green in some regard. In totality she fits into all of these colors well, and even falls into white near the end of the series when she tries to protect people alongside Georgie. But, in pursuit of my desire to remain nailing characters into 3 or less colors, I'm going to make a decision; I could see Melanie either falling into black/green/blue, black/red/green, or white/black/green all pretty easily. With that in perspective, I'm going to go ahead and say Melanie is black/green at her core, with different points in time pulling out different colors in combination with her primary two; namely, her time pre-Archives is black/green/blue, her time at the archives with the bullet is black/red/green, and her ending point trying to give hope to others is white/black/green. So, yes, Melanie is primarily black/green.

Elias: The bastard. Elias is obsessed with power and the Eye. He is conniving, cruel, tricky, and a million other things. But, to avoid going on a long rant, I choose to just give Elias' id here: Blue/black/red. Blue due to his schemes and the several layers of backup plans, as well as his connection to the Eye; Black... because he's Elias and he literally murders people because they annoyed him... plus also the whole psuedo-lich things with the body hopping; and finally red, because he enjoys what he does. He is not a stoic man, he is someone who enjoys making others know he's winning, to make them suffer their defeat.

Gertrude: Gertrude Robinson is a perfect example of a blue/black anti-hero. She is largely a hero, but she achieves the goals of saving others through means many people would like to avoid discussing. She is extremely curious, and is much smarter than most in the show give her credit for early on. She was willing to let the world end just to test a theory. She avoids emotional connections. She doesn't seem to want to save the world because she cares for others, but more so because she's curious about the entities, she doesn't want to die herself, and she doesn't want an entity to be unleashed onto the world. So yes, Gertrude is blue/black.

Jurgen: Jurgen is a calm man with a singular goal: Protect the people from the books such as the "Boneturner's Tale" and "A Guest for Mister Spider." While curious and wanting to research the books himself, he makes it clear throughout his time that he is not doing it because he desires power in any real regard, he does not have a compelling personal reason to do it; he simply wants to collect the books to protect them from others and others from them. His curiosity is blue, all the way through. His methodical approach and altruistic goals are white. Jurgen Leitner is white/blue.

Agnes: Agnes is a character we don't really get to know as a person until her episode. We learn bits and pieces of her past throughout the series, but we only have one episode that really shows who she is as a person, so the explanation for her is most likely going to be short. Agnes is red/green, potentially with a bit of white or black. She cares deeply for others, despite being born for the singular purpose to end the world. She sacrifices herself willingly to stop the Desolation's ritual, all because she met one man who showed her kindness and cared for her. She is someone who wishes she could live a simpler life, one where she is not forced on the path of destiny. Despite this, she eventually accepts she is not a person who can remain in the world without consequences, and chooses to give herself up for the benefit of others. Agnes is a perfect example of red/green character who knows destiny exists, but chooses to alter it's course slightly (which interestingly actually leads her into blue because blue is the color that rejects destiny the most, but I digress). Agnes is red/green.

In all honesty, these last three I don't have amazing reasons for, or at least I can't articulate them at this moment, so I'm just going to put the colors and leave it for the time being. I may return in the future to update this. Georgie: Georgie is either black/green or black/red/green.

Daisy: Daisy is black/red/green.

Basira: Basira is white/blue or white/blue/black.

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