#“Are you just putting this entire conversation?” -jonah

[klance-headcanons-official]

so you guys know Jonah right?

he won't stop fucking talking about shidge.

He refuses to wear his klance pants and instead resorts to "shidge shorts" as he calls them.

Gather, my warriors. We ride at noon.

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part seven.

part eight. tiff and jj.

That particular Tuesday, Tiffany Wheeler had walked into class high. More so than was typical. Most of the time when Tiff was high, it wasn’t necessarily noticeable to anyone except those who really knew her. She would just act normal while seeming a bit more subdued, with red, bloodshot eyes at the most, and that would be the end of it. But not today.

Tiff had walked into class late with Effy, and the two of them were, to put it simply, on one. They had split mushrooms and some spliff, and were on another planet entirely. It was the first thing Cook noticed when they walked into the room. The classroom had been dead silent, with everyone silently working on whatever they were working on, whether it was their actual class work, or doodling, or lightly snoring. In Cook’s case, it was staring at the doorway off and on waiting for Tiffany to appear.

And when she finally did more than twenty minutes into class, everyone in their respective group knew that it was going to be an interesting class. For starters, Tiff and Effy both walked into the room stumbling and giggling, something that wasn’t necessarily typical of either of them. The two girls were laughing so hysterically at something when they came in that even the teacher had noticed that they were under the influence of something. But of course, no one actually cared.

Tiff and Effy had taken far too long to sit down, too sloppy and distracted to function in that moment. Their behavior had gotten many different reactions. Katie and Naomi both rolled their eyes. Panda was excited by the prospect of drugs. JJ was somewhat confused, meanwhile Freddie just stared at Effy. But Cook was too focused on Tiff. He couldn’t take his eyes off her; she rarely lost control when drunk or high. Or in general. Her laughter and smiles were something he knew to take advantage of when he got the chance.

James Cook sat in his seat, watching in amusement as Tiff sat half slumped over in her seat in front of him next to JJ, deciding to take out a notebook so as to blend in with the rest of the class, but she just stared at it, not writing or reading or anything. She wasn’t able to at all.

“Psst,�� Cook whispered, trying to get her attention. “Psst!”

Tiff was still too busy staring at her empty notebook to notice.

“Psst! Oi! Tiff!” he hissed frustratedly.

Tiffany slowly looked up at him, eyes rimmed with smudged black eyeliner.

“What?” she whispered back.

“Did you and Eff seriously blaze up without me?” he pouted.

“It was girls only,” she remarked.

“Well that’s rude,” he frowned.

But Tiff was already onto the next thing. JJ was next to her, absentmindedly drawing something to entertain his train of thought. Tiff of course noticed it as her eyes wandered.

“What’s that?” she whispered, leaning in.

JJ looked up at her, surprised that she was talking to him. Tiff often hung out with him, Cook, and Freddie, but rarely did she and JJ ever speak to one another separate from the others.

“It’s a frog,” JJ responded quietly. “Or, at least an attempt at one.”

“Do you draw frogs a lot?” Tiff wondered.

JJ had to think about it for a moment. “No. I don’t really draw… I just randomly thought of frogs. I wanted to see if I could do it.”

He stopped for a moment to wonder if he’d been talking too much. He was somewhat comforted by the fact that Tiff didn’t seem to care.

“That’s cool,” Tiff stared. “I think frogs are interesting creatures.”

“Yeah, I suppose they are,” he agreed, genuinely engaged in the conversation. “I think it’s interesting the sounds they can make.”

“I think the poison ones are interesting,” Tiff shared, “Like the colorful ones. The poison dart frogs. I wonder why they call them that. Do they actually shoot poison darts?”

“Can’t say I know,” Jonah Jones thought curiously.

Cook was fascinated watching the two of them interact, wondering if that was how he sounded to people at times.

*****

After school let out, Tiff and Effy went with Cook, Freddie, and JJ back to Freddie’s shed where the boys usually hung out together. Effy was sitting with Freddie, and Cook was sitting on his own, drinking more than anyone else as he watched Tiff and JJ, still talking.

Cook was surprised that they were still having one long conversation about a variety of different topics. He knew Tiff and JJ were both very unique people who were often quiet in large group settings, but he just couldn’t seem to understand how they were still talking.

“I don’t really go out much,” Tiff thought, “It’s easier to just drink at home.”

“Yeah, that’s understandable,” JJ sympathized. “I just wish there was a way I could meet girls… Not that it’d matter anyway, even if I met one there’s no way I’d be able to get anywhere beyond friends, if that,” he admitted with a sad disappointment to his tone.

“Oh, I’m sure that’s not true,” Tiff insisted, taking his hand in a friendly manner.

Cook watched with surprise as JJ just got bashful in response, practically blushing when she touched him, even if it was just to give his hand a squeeze.

“Besides,” she offered, trying to find genuine and truthful ways to help, “Some of my best shags have been friends,” she shared.

Immediately, JJ turned red as Cook looked at her in curiosity, definitely invested. Everyone could physically see the JJ swallowing the hard lump in his throat.

“It’s okay,” Tiff smiled, taking JJ’s hand.

His eyes widened at the comforting gesture. Not only was JJ unsure of how to receive such a kind act of physical affection, he was also extremely confused by it coming from Tiffany Wheeler.

“You’re safe with me, JJ,” she said softly.

“Th-Thank you, Tiff,” he managed, clearing his throat frantically.

“Do you want to kiss me?” she said finally.

JJ nearly had an aneurysm, along with Freddie and Cook, who couldn’t take their eyes off of this fascinating new development. Cook was becoming increasingly jealous, while Freddie seemed to find the situation strange. Effy, on the other hand, watched eagerly. Effy wanted nothing more than to watch Tiff kiss JJ.

“Sorry, what?” JJ blurted out, laughing so as to offset his growing fear.

“I said, do you want to kiss me?” Tiff asked softly, not missing a beat.

“Uh, well, yes!” JJ stammered, “But, is that an offer, or…?”

“Of course it is,” Tiff nodded, slowly moving towards him as she sat on her knees beside him on the couch. “Would you like me to kiss you?”

JJ’s blue eyes were now locked on Tiff’s, completely frozen. He had no idea what to do or say, and frankly, he was afraid one wrong move would wake him from this splendid dream.

“Y-Yes,” JJ concluded, accepting the fact that his first kiss would be with Tiffany Wheeler, in front of his friends, “Yes.”

“Ask nicely,” Tiff smiled.

“Please,” JJ whined, surprising even himself. “Please, please kiss me, Tiff,” he pleaded with her, as Effy grinned, sitting forward in her seat.

“As you wish,” Tiff said softly.

JJ prepared himself, unsure of what to expect. He had expected a very innocent, almost platonic sort of kiss, with the two of them hardly touching; a sweet peck on the lips for the sake of allowing him a first kiss. But what JJ got shocked him. Instead of going the simple route, Tiff swung her leg over JJ’s body, sinking down in his lap as Freddie nearly jumped up out of his seat.

Cook’s eyes widened hungrily as he watched Tiff straddling his friend, hand subconsciously sliding down his lap. He couldn’t believe his eyes. For a moment, the spliff made him question whether any of this was even happening at all. But it most certainly and unmistakably was. Freddie gave in and applauded JJ as he looked up at Tiff on his lap, too stunned to move. Effy was more than entertained.

“Don’t be afraid,” Tiff offered, slowly pressing JJ’s hands, which had been hovering, onto her waist.

He grinned ear to ear with excitement, looking nothing if not grateful.

“Do you want to touch my ass?” Tiff whispered in his ear.

JJ pulled away, nodding quickly. “Please.”

Smirking proudly, Tiff slid his hands down to where he gripped her behind, slowly finding his confidence as his friends laughed and cheered. Tiff leaned in again, equally enjoying the shared moment of pleasure.

“Are you hard?” she asked huskily.

JJ looked petrified.

“Yes,” he confessed.

Tiff nodded, grabbing him by his hair as he felt another warm, tingly sensation, signaling to him that he was enjoying himself.

“Good,” she whispered to him.

He looked right into her dark eyes, his own eyes heavy as he began to pant softly. JJ was beginning to feel overstimulated as she sat on top of him, but in the best way. She could feel him squeezing her ass as he allowed her to sink down on top of him, the both of them feeling each other even through clothing.

“Please, Tiff,” he begged. “Kiss me.”

Before JJ had to say anything else, Tiff pulled him in by the collar of his shirt, pressing a harsh kiss to his lips. JJ was initially stiff, unsure of how to reciprocate, but eventually, he felt his instincts kick in. The kiss was equally rough and loving. Tiff didn’t like to kiss with tongue, but she made sure the kiss was still fully engaging as they shared a series of breathy kisses.

Just as JJ began to feel himself getting carried away, his hands moving up to grope her breasts, Tiff pulled away. At first, JJ was startled and was convinced he’d done something wrong before she spoke.

“Open your mouth,” Tiff instructed.

JJ gulped. He had no idea what was about to happen, but strangely, he relished that feeling. JJ politely opened his mouth, staring up at her obediently. Tiff grinned as she grabbed his jaw and spit in his mouth. Freddie nearly gasped aloud. Effy just smiled, pleasantly surprised as Cook leaned forward, tempted to palm himself over his pants.

“Swallow,” Tiff said calmly.

Nodding quickly, JJ obliged and swallowed, eyes still completely trained on her.

“Thank you,” JJ breathed, as Tiff just leaned forward and pressed another kiss to his lips, a sweet peck on the lips.

“Good boy,” she said, before swinging around on his lap so that she was facing everyone else once again.

As if nothing had even happened, everyone continued with their conversation from earlier before eventually deciding to head out to a pub after Effy, Tiff, and Cook all took more mushrooms. Tiff headed out before Cook and JJ, as Cook stopped her in front of the shed behind Freddie and Effy.

“Tiff,” Cook called after her.

Tiff turned, as Cook pulled her aside.

“Tiffy,” Cook huffed with desperation, “I need a shag. Right now,” he said, about to undo his belt.

“Cook,” Tiff scoffed, looking around in Freddie’s yard, “No.”

“Tiffy,” he protested in a needy manner.

“Cook!” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Fuck off.”

Cook pouted as he ran off after Freddie, leaving Tiff at the shed with JJ.

“Tiff,” he said nervously.

“JJ,” she smiled, her high creating beautiful visuals within the sunlight around him.

“Sorry about Cook,” JJ apologized, seeming genuinely troubled. “He’s… horny,” he offered sheepishly, unable to come up with a better word.

“It’s nothing,” she assured him, “I’m used to it.”

JJ looked at her sadly. “You deserve better,” he offered honestly.

Tiff frowned sympathetically. “I don’t want better,” she admitted.

“But… why?” he wondered, genuinely confused.

“Better’s boring,” she told him, as they walked together. “Besides. I’m not as good as I seem, JJ.”

He tried to find a way to dispute her claim, but as he kept searching for reasons, he began to realize that he didn’t really understand people at all. Especially her.

“Sometimes I don’t understand what makes someone good, and what makes them bad,” JJ said, sounding troubled.

“Sometimes, it just depends on what you want to see,” Tiff offered, before taking his hand. “Come on. Let’s go get drunk.”

JJ knew that when it came to Tiff, he just had to accept this. JJ squeezed her hand as they walked off together.

-

part nine.

[literary-motif]

Bi-ased

Jonah x Reader

You come out as bi to Jonah. It takes a lot of effort.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” Jonah asked, his gaze unwavering as he looked at you from across the table. 

You squirmed in your seat. Were you that obvious?

You had tried to work up the courage to tell him for the better part of two days now, but somehow the words would not leave your lips. It was making you anxious and stressing you out because you wanted to tell him, and your nervousness was, quite frankly, entirely absurd.

He had come out to you as pan a while ago, and so offhandedly that you nearly missed it. To him, it must not have been a great deal at all — or maybe he was just immensely comfortable around you — and while you loved him greatly, there was still a part of you that descended into panic when you thought about telling him you were bi.

It was not that you were anxious about his reaction — you knew he would smile fondly and thank you — but the act of telling him. Coming out, especially to a person who meant the world to you, was never easy. 

“I—” you stuttered, averting your gaze to the plate of pasta he had cooked. “No.”

Jonah narrowed his eyes. “Really?” he began, tilting his head, “because you have been squeamish recently and I see you open your mouth to begin a conversation only to snap it shut a moment later.”

“Maybe you looked wrong,” you said, taking a sip of water to distract yourself from the nervousness you felt boiling up again. Your hands were clammy, and your heart felt like it wanted to carve its way out of your chest. You felt sick from anxiety.

Something must have shown on your face because Jonah put down his fork to take your hands in his. “Hey,” he said gently, concern shining in his eyes, “you’re alright. There is no need to tell me anything you don’t want to, babe.”

You sighed. “I know,” you murmured. 

If you didn’t do it now, you felt like the words would never leave your lips. Jonah looked so comforting and genuine, the corner of his mouth twisting into a minuscule smile as you searched his gaze. He squeezed your hands reassuringly. That was the final push you needed.

“I’m—” you cleared your throat. Shit. You felt your heart hammering in your chest and your hands trembling slightly in his grip.

Jonah smiled, hiding his concern in favor of reassuring you. “You can tell me anything,” he said, massaging small circles into the back of your hands as he felt them tremble. “Take your time.”

You sat there in silence, concentrating on his touch. The only sound you heard was the clock ticking away noisily on the wall next to you, and your gradually slowing heartbeat. With every second ticking by, it felt like the words got harder and harder to say. It felt as if you had missed your window to tell him. 

There was something within you that did not dare to break the silence, and you closed your eyes to fight back the tears of frustration stinging in them. 

This was not how you had wanted this to go. You had planned to drop it casually, maybe when it came up in one of the series you watched with him, maybe when he made a joke about his own queerness. You wanted him to know what you identified as. You wanted to share that part of your identity with him and you knew that he would love you all the more for it. So why was this so hard?

“I can hear you beat yourself up over this,” he whispered, raising your hands to his lips and placing a kiss against each knuckle. “Would you like me to help?”

You swallowed thickly, taking another deep breath as your heart picked up again. “Help how?” you asked, not meeting his eyes. The warmth washing over you at his gentle kisses did nothing to ease your anxiety. 

He hummed, thinking up something. “Let’s play it like a guessing game,” he said, shooting you a calming smile. His patience was inexhaustible when it came to you, and you saw all the love and care he had for you in his fond expression. “That way you don’t have to say it, but you can tell me.”

You nodded, squeezing his hand as you waited for the first question. 

Jonah thought for a moment, looking at the pasta. “Is it about sexuality or gender?” he asked.

“Sexuality,” you said, biting your lip. “How did you know?” 

He chuckled, looking up at you. “I’ve been there,” he said. “It might not have looked like it, but it took me a while to come out to you. I was so nervous I don’t think I slept well for days after making up my mind about it. How many stripes does your flag have?”

You looked at him in shock. From the way he had said it, you never would have guessed that it took him any effort at all to reveal that part of his identity to you. “I didn’t know,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid for not recognizing his struggle. 

“I’ve been told I hide my nervousness well,” he said lightly, squeezing your hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

“Three,” you said, a part of you eager now to tell him. 

Jonah thought for a moment, going through the pride flags in his head. “Are we the same?” he asked. 

“No, there’s a difference,” you replied, fiddling with his fingers. 

“Oh,” Jonah exhaled. You looked up at him to find the fond smile you had expected. “Pink, purple, and blue?” 

“Yes, I’m bi,” you said, finding the term to roll off your lips almost easily now. 

“That’s great! I love you,” he said, beaming. He released your hands to get up, circling the table and pulling you into a tight hug. “Thank you for telling me,” Jonah said, holding you tightly against his chest and allowing you to bury your head in the crook of his neck. “I know it’s not easy. Thank you so much for trusting me with this, babe. I am so proud of you.”

Your arms tightened around him and you felt tears of gratitude blur your vision as you took in his words. You knew that you could rely on him for anything, you would always be safe with him. Jonah loved you as you were, and you loved him the same. 

[totallyjustabunchofhocuspocus]

Fic: Something to Sink Your Teeth Into 9/?

Pairing: Buck/Tommy

Vampire/Witch!AU

Read on AO3

He’d only known Jonah Greenway a few months.

It had been chance that brought him into the other witch’s orbit. At the time, he’d thought it was fate; the universe finally throwing him a bone after maybe deciding he deserved a break after the past five years.

He’d been making decent money working for a small construction outfit. It was all under the table, nothing even remotely resembling benefits, and the working conditions were not…great. But the guy running it was only a garden-variety scumbag, not evil. Evan was passably conversant in Spanish (four years of high school Spanish hadn’t stuck at all, but it turned out total immersion in tiny Peruvian beach towns was a much better teacher than Mrs. Weatherby) and followed orders well, so he rose quickly in the ranks. He’d managed to put enough aside to get a forged driver’s license and was saving up for a proper birth certificate and social security card (Evan Buckley wasn’t exactly a unique name, but in coven circles Buckley was a damn lightning rod, and if the wrong people noticed his magic hadn’t faded, it would bring everything tumbling down on Maddie’s head and the past five years would all have been for nothing) when some asshole had tipped ICE off about how many undocumented workers were on the crew.

Evan hadn’t expended that much magic in ages, but it had been worth it to make sure every last one of the guys he’d been working with for the past six months had made it home to families they were breaking their backs just to provide for.

Unfortunately, he couldn’t risk getting swept up in the inevitable investigation of the construction outfit, and so he’d had to abandon the job. Max had been the one to suggest he register with the same temp agency he picked up work at, at least until he could find something a little more permanent. Max hadn’t exactly come out and said it, but the implication was that the temp agency had a little bit of a side hustle going on finding work for people that couldn’t through regular channels for whatever reason.

Evan had not been hopeful, but even the meager rent that he owed sharing a three-bedroom house with seven other people would quickly eat through his savings. He’d taken the chance…and Jonah Greenway had been the first person he met.

He’d actually been in the process of gathering his things to leave. He’d sensed the other witch almost as soon as he’d been led back to the waiting room for his intake interview; had been cursing quietly to himself and heading for the door when Jonah had literally stepped out of an office door and blocked his exit.

“Hey, whoa, what’s the rush?” he’d said with an easy smile. “You’re my three o’clock right? I’m Jonah. Jonah Greenway.”

He’d been so friendly, smiled so disarmingly, ushered Evan into his office so smoothly that Evan hadn’t even had time to stammer out some made-up excuse about a family emergency before he was sitting down in front of Jonah’s desk. Jonah had thought he was trying to discreetly gather money to leave his coven—it didn’t happen often, but Evan knew better than most people that covens were not always safe, healthy environments—at first, but it hadn’t taken him long to realize that Evan had no coven bond at all.

Evan had sat in front of the desk, waiting for the inevitable. That flash of emotion—sometimes pity, more often disgust; people were not banished for minor crimes, after all—and then the ritual response. You are not known, and will find no welcome here. Depart now in peace, or be cast out in violence. Words that had been hurled at him dozens upon dozens of times over the last few years. He’d become skilled at keeping to himself over the years, avoiding places where he was likely to find other witches…but there were more of them now than there had ever been. Avoiding them entirely was impossible.

Instead, Jonah had tilted his head curiously. “How long ago were you banished?”

A simple question. But one Evan absolutely could never answer with the truth.

To be banished was to be erased from the world you grew up in. Cast out. Shunned. That was only the start of your punishment, though. The true torture of banishment was the loss of your magic. You could not become a witch. Either you were born with magic, or you were not…but it was not an intrinsic, immutable power. Magic needed the strength and support of a coven bond to exist. To grow. These days, magic was all but exclusively something passed down through coven bloodlines. Perhaps a child might be spontaneously born with magic (certainly the result of a witch somewhere in the family tree, whatever the circumstances of how they came to be there), but unless they were adopted into a coven, the magic was quickly lost. The instant a coven bond dissolved, the witch’s magic started to die.

Six months was the average time it took, less if the crime was especially heinous…as though magic itself wished to flee a witch that could abuse it in such a way. If a witch was especially powerful, it might take a year.

Unless, of course, a witch was innocent of the crime they were banished for. In those cases—rare as they were—the magic seemed to fight to stay, lingering in the witch’s blood for two or even three years, again depending on how powerful a witch was, how strong their family line. But it always faded. A witch needed a coven. The coven line the Buckleys came from was extremely old. Extremely powerful. It was reasonable that he might have kept his magic for a long time after being banished. Certainly no one would have blinked at him keeping some or even most of his magic for a couple of years.

Evan still had his magic five years after his banishment.

Almost as strong as the day he had left Pennsylvania.

Oh, he hadn’t completely escaped the effects of losing his coven bonds. Small spells, minor enchantments, those were still as easy as breathing…but more complex magic grew more difficult with each passing year. He could still do it—but it left him drained and exhausted, took a little more out of him each time, even as his recovery times remained unusually quick. His magic seemed to burn almost as brightly as ever, but it was almost like his body was no longer strong enough to house it.

But the fact he had it at all was testimony to the lie he’d told to protect Maddie, in blinking neon lights.

He should have left Jonah’s office as soon as he started asking about Evan’s banishment. Evan had burned his whole life down to make sure Maddie wouldn’t be punished for finally having the courage to try and escape Doug…and for what she did to save her own life when Doug caught her leaving. He’d given up everything he was, everything he’d ever be. He’d forced Sally to go along with his lie, using the power a witch could exert over their familiar to forbid her from revealing the truth. It still made him sick to think about it…and the betrayal in her golden eyes would haunt him ‘til his dying day. He’d willingly set himself on a path that meant he’d always be alone, and if anyone ever found out who he was…if they ever found out he was innocent of Doug’s murder, it would all be for nothing.

And that was not even counting what would happen to his former coven if anyone ever figured out just why Evan’s magic was so terribly powerful.

He should have left. But…Jonah had seemed so kind. He had not immediately hurled the ritual words that a witch was supposed to upon encountering someone who had been banished. There was open curiosity, even sympathy on his face—not anger. Not disgust.

It had been so long since Evan had been able to speak with someone he didn’t have to hide a huge part of himself from. So long since he’d felt the warmth of a coven bond. Jonah’s connection with his coven was dim and muted to Evan’s senses, as all coven bonds were now…like standing outside a house in the snow and pressing himself against the frozen windowpane to try and feel the warmth of the fireplace inside. It was ultimately futile.

But oh he was starved for it. The darkened places in his head and heart where his bonds with his coven and his familiar had once been were so cold. Jonah had seemed kind.

Jonah had sent him to die.

Evan wanted so badly to call Kinard a liar. To tell him he had no idea what he was talking about, that he couldn’t possibly be right…but as he listened to the one-sided conversation Kinard was having with someone named Howie—someone who apparently belonged to Jonah’s coven—his mind was casting through every interaction he’d ever had with the other witch.

And finding a lot to be suspicious about.

Things he’d ignored as just Jonah being cautious about his cove finding out he hadn’t immediately turned Evan away as their laws demanded. Times that he’d gotten a weird vibe off the other witch and just chalked it up to him being paranoid. Things he’d straight up ignored because it had been so long since he’d been able to speak to another of his kind for any length of time.

Jonah had sent him to die.

He’d known what was waiting for Evan and Max at that mansion, had fucking gift-wrapped Evan for a den of vampires. Jonah had almost allowed a vampire coven master unfettered access to witch blood. No one would have even known Evan was missing…no one would have come for him. Jonah had sent him to die.

God, how was a vampire who had fucking mind-controlled him, bitten him, kidnapped him, and been ordered by his own coven master to kill Evan somehow apparently the most honest person Evan had interacted with in this fucking city? Kinard was right. He had no reason to lie to Evan. He gained nothing by lying. There was no advantage. He didn’t need Evan to trust him; he could take whatever he wanted from Evan.

Apparently without Evan being able to put up any fight at all.

His mind skittered away from that, not wanting to think about the way his magic had refused his call, the way the fire spell had slipped from his grasp before he could throw it at Kinard. Never…his magic had never done something like that. He was just more tired than he thought he was…he needed some more time to recover. That had to be it. It had to be.

Evan didn’t know if he could keep the fear at bay if that wasn’t it.

But the fact remained that Kinard didn’t need to convince him that Jonah had betrayed him. It served no purpose other than to…hammer home for him just how utterly fucking alone he was in the world. And he’d recognized Jonah’s name. He didn’t…he didn’t know why exactly, but he had the feeling that the shock that had raced across the vampire’s face when he said Jonah’s name had been genuine.

Shock…shock made a certain amount of sense. A witch allowing another witch, even a banished witch, to fall into a vampire’s hands—that was grounds for execution. Hell, that was grounds for a coven war. Even if Kinard was a complete and utter evil bastard, surely he didn’t want a coven war in his territory.

God, Jonah had sent him to die.

He was so caught up in the spiral of his thoughts that he almost missed it when Kinard suddenly stiffened, whipping towards the door with a soft growl that Evan almost felt more than heard. The vampire took a few steps to the side, planting himself between Evan and the door more squarely than he’d been doing all this time. Evan’s stomach dropped, and he took a few stumbling steps backward.

“What—” he started, but Kinard held up a hand for silence, not even looking at Evan.

“Stay behind me,” the vampire ordered softly. “No magic, no matter what. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Evan goggled at that, at the calm, steady way Kinard said it, even though he was clearly bracing for some kind of fight. Evan’s magic pulsed, crackling through his blood a little stronger now that he’d had a chance to eat…and yet it still felt so strangely calm. As though he really was safe behind the vampire. He had no time to contemplate the absurdity of that, as seconds later the deadbolt on the door turned.

Kinard tensed further, widening his stance slightly, as the door swung open, revealing two people Evan thought were hazily familiar. A blonde woman with dark eyes and a no-nonsense expression and a tall, dark-haired man who, while not as broad and muscular as Kinard, gave off a similar air of age and power. Vampires. Both of them. Evan swallowed hard, unable to keep from flinching back when the woman’s eyes darted towards him before settling on Kinard.

“Sal. Lucy,” Kinard said evenly. The man, Sal apparently, sighed heavily.

“Damn it, Tommy,” he said, sounding more exasperated than anything else. He too flicked his eyes toward Evan, shifting uneasily. “Just trusting him not to charbroil us?”

He could. He…he felt like he could, now. It would take what little energy he’d recouped out of him, and he still had no idea what he could do against Kinard, but he felt like he could burn the two new vampires to ash before they could stop him. He also…he also felt like that would be a bad idea. His magic swirled and coiled in his chest, still calm and relaxed, and it only served to confuse him.

“You could go back home and not have to worry about it,” Kinard replied, his back still ramrod straight. Sal smiled, without much humor.

“Apparently I shouldn’t have left you here alone in the first place. What the hell, Tommy boy? Alonzo gave you an order.”

“Alonzo doesn’t have all the information. This is messier than we thought, Sal.”

The blonde woman startled at that. “Messier? How the hell can this get messier?” she demanded. Kinard shrugged.

“I’ll explain, but we’re not killing him. Understand?”

At that, Sal went very, very still. Then he tilted his head slowly, his posture, his expression, every line of his body shifting just slightly, until Evan was staring at a hunter. A predator. Sal’s eyes gleamed faintly under the apartment’s lighting, the ruby light of a vampire on the trail of blood. The hair on the back of Evan’s neck rose up and a chill raced up and down his spine.

“Tommy. Your coven master gave you a direct order. Are you seriously going to try and stop me if I carry it out right now?”

Kinard blew out a harsh breath, and slowly rolled his shoulders. “You and I both know I’m not going to try,” he said.

Evan had a beat to look at the back of Kinard’s head in surprise…and then Sal struck. In a movement nearly too fast for Evan’s eyes to follow, the dark-haired vampire lunged, a harsh growl echoing through the apartment. Evan had a brief impression of burning red eyes, hands like claws outstretched towards him, and before he could even think of throwing up a spell, Kinard was between them. An even louder snarl erupted from Kinard and suddenly he had Sal by the throat, holding him off the ground like he weighed nothing. The blonde woman shrieked, and Kinard casually tossed the other vampire back across the room.

Sal’s back slammed against the wall by the door and he bounced off it, still landing lightly on his feet. Kinard crouched slightly, readying himself to spring, but to Evan’s complete bewilderment, Sal held his hands up in surrender, shaking his head with a resigned sort of chuckle. He said something in another language—Italian maybe, but it sounded weird—that Evan didn’t need to understand to know was something extremely rude, but when he opened his eyes they were no longer red.

“All right, all right, fuck’s sake. I guess you’re serious. Fine. What’s the real plan, then?”

And…what?

“What?” the blonde woman echoed, whirling on her companion.

Kinard straightened warily, still keeping himself between Evan and the vampires. His…coven, Evan realized with a pulse of dull surprise. They had to be members of his coven. And Kinard had just…defended him from one of them.

Sal cracked his neck a couple of times, and then shrugged, an almost affable expression settling on his face. “Look, I love Alonzo and Josh, I really do. But I think they sometimes forget you’re almost a thousand fucking years old, Tommy boy. No one’s making you do anything you don’t want to do, and that’s when you’re not hopped up on witch blood. Besides. I trust you more than I trust myself some days, so if you say the kid needs to live, he needs to live.” He leaned slightly to one side so he could see Evan clearly and tipped him a salute with two fingers against his forehead. “So, I say again, what’s the real plan?”

The blonde woman—Lucy, Kinard had called her Lucy—was looking between him, Kinard, and Sal with a bewildered expression that quickly shifted to annoyance. She threw up her hands and stalked further into the apartment.

“Fine. Banished witches, unsanctioned drinking, city-wide political implications…why not add a little light treason?”

Sal smirked, and then winked at Evan. Fucking winked at him. “That’s the spirit!”

Kinard rubbed his eyes wearily, and then half-turned to Evan with a face that looked for all the world apologetic. “They’re not bad once you get to know them,” he offered.

[lostonehero]

PLEASE elaborate on the werewolf Elias idea omfg

That sounds so interesting

Hope you're ready for a lore dump

So Elias 7th born werewolf actually a big terrifying wolf during the full moon

Problem

Elias can not grow facial hair and has little to no body hair, which is incredibly rare, and he's thin and small, which again is abnormal for a natural born werewolf first off, so he is easily mistaken as human

Second fears are entirely separate from this supernatural side so Jonah has no fucking idea about any of it and thinks it's fake and doesn't exist because again removed from the fears or the fears have a bastardized version of the creature (ex stranger changling hunt wolf end vampire etc etc)

Jonah doesn't choose who his eyes get placed in the Beholder does (this is cannon to my fics fight me) so the whole things happens and Elias isn't dead surprise they are sharing a body. Jonah doesn't let Elias have control.

Jonah gets settled and can't marry Peter because Elias is born male. Move in together in the span of two weeks.

(Fun fact another cannon to my fics. Jonah is originally a Trans man. I just wanted to put that out there)

Elias is throwing alarm bells as it gets closer and closer to the full moon. Jonah thinks he is crazy and doesn't understand why he isn't gone yet.

Peter likes that Elias is in their, spices things up, but he does roll with the werewolf thing and uses every version of a puppy nickname.

Elias is basically trying to force himself in control and tries amd fails to get Jonah to get Peter to leave right until the moon rises

The morning after comes

Elias has control

Jonah is fucking confused and slightly scared to see everything a mess Peter has bloody bandages on.

"I told you to eat more, but noooo I'm the fucking crazy one." Elias huffs as he puts a pair of boxers on in the mess. "I'm crazy werewolves aren't real. Like here's your fucking proof asshat."

Jonah is too stunned to fight back for control, which he won't get until Elias lets him

"I haven't turned anyone since I was born and you fucking ruined that." Elias finds his phone through the mess and dials a number he knows by heart. "Hush up you damn vic- edwardian cunt." He sighs. "No, Oliver, I wasn't talking to you. Look, it's complicated. I'll text you the address, and yes, I did turn someone, but like, I'm also possessed by one Jonah Magnus.... yes, I know.... well how the fuck was I suppose to know I would get his eyes? Ok... yeah, that would be great. No, I can clean up. You don't have to help it's not as bad as I thought.... yeah that would be nice... what do I owe you? Don't give me that just because... fine, fine, you're right... thanks, man."

Time passes Peter is carried into bed and tea is placed on the bedside table and the apartment is cleaned before there is a knock.

"You got an end avatar to help us?" Jonah stares at Oliver, who answers the door.

Elias sighs heavily. "He's not just an end avatar, Jonah. Oliver is a vampire he was turned around the black death, and not one of the fear ones. Sorry, I'm still getting used to sharing a body. You can come in. I just finished cleaning, Peter is inside in bed, but he still hasn't woken up. He just got the fever yaknow."

Oliver steps in holding up two large bags. "I got all the stuff you need for yourself and him. You look like shit."

"Thanks." Elias sighs, taking a bag. "The asshole wouldn't listen when I said eat more, and I just barely started to get a bit of fat on my body too. That's gone. At least I know all his suit fittings are ruined."

Oliver sighs, but it sounds like a wheeze. "I'll look over Peter for you. Hopefully, he isn't having a bad reaction to the bite. Oh yeah, let our group know the whole deal with Jonah and sharing a body. I also got the paperwork started for Peter when he feels well enough to well you know grip what happened."

Elias nods. "Yeah, I get it."

Jonah has no idea what is going on and is freaking out

This entire conversation Jonah is freaking out and Elias is just ignoring him

[meetmyothersouls]

Back to you 7 here:

here we are!

Back to You

Jonah Hauer-King x first person reader

Warnings: Angst, anxiety, nightmare/night terrors, not proof read

Chapter 7

I can focus on nothing but two things: the kiss Jonah and I shared earlier today and how tingly it made me feel inside. How it made my stomach quite literally flip. And the whole one bed debacle. Jonah quickly changed the subject once I was made aware of the situation, likely because it's not something that had to be dealt with right away, but for me, it's overpowering even the lovely dinner Jonah has taken me to.

I'm picking at my food, lost in thought. Jonah has said a few things, though I haven't paid much attention to them. I've smiled politely and nodded to cover my contribution to the conversation, but I have to admit I haven't been much of an active part of it. If this bothers Jonah, he doesn't let on. I roll a ravioli over before stabbing it and shoving it into my mouth. I should let him take the bed, right? I mean, he can't possibly sleep anywhere else. I scanned the room quickly before we came down to the hotel's quaint restaurant. I made note that there was no sofa, or futon or even a recliner. Just a bed. It'd be rude for me to assume that I'd get the bed automatically, but I have a feeling he'll suggest it. And even though I feel like Jonah's charms are starting to win me over, I still hope he doesn't assume that he'll hop into the same bed with me and sleep. I'm not there yet...I'm not at the place where I can feel his body up against mine for the entire night. Or wake up with his hand draped over my hip and my face pressed into his neck as I'm breathing his scent in with each sleepy inhale.

A loud clatter snaps me out of my thoughts, and I realize I let my fork slip out of my hands.

"You okay?" Jonah asks.

"Oh, yeah," I groan as I bend down to pick up my fork. I won't be using that anymore. I push my plate across the table a bit, a silent indication that I'm done with the food. "I'm just tired," I find myself admitting. I dread the words as soon as they come out. I really am tired, but I almost would like to put off going to bed as long as possible.

"I'm tired too," Jonah says as he stands. "Let's get to bed, I'd like to leave early in the morning so we can get to the cabin before nightfall tomorrow."

Maybe I won't sleep tonight. I'll stay up the whole night reading a book or something, and I'll sleep the rest of the car ride. We walk back up the fairytale like staircase, and Jonah lets us into the room. I step inside and I can practically feel my heart beating in my chest.

"I can get another room," Jonah says abruptly.

"What?" I spin around to look at him.

"You're nervous."

"No I'm not," I lie.

"You are, I can tell. You were pretty distracted at dinner and right now you're biting your nails like you always do when you're nervous."

I notice my finger in my mouth as soon as he says it. I quickly with draw it and Jonah's already turned around making his way to the door.

"No, no don't leave. I could never ask you to get another room, Jonah, don't be silly."

"I don't want you to be uncomfortable, y/n. You're never going to find your way back to me if you're in a constant state of stress and anxiety. This, whole thing is too much for you. I should have known. This was a terrible idea. I'm sorry, we'll go back tomorrow," Jonah says. He won't even make eye contact with me.

Jonah's hand is on the doorknob when I stop him. My hand is on his shoulder, and I feel him relax under my touch. I squeeze his shoulder gently and he turns around. He backs up until his back is flush with the wood of the door. He sighs loudly and gently thumps the back of his head against the door.

"Don't leave me," I whisper. "I'm nervous, about a lot of things. Yes. But that doesn't mean I want you to leave or get a new room. I want you here with me. Please don't leave."

Jonah is silent for a moment until he sighs again. "I'm sorry, y/n. I just..." he looks at me, his eyes bouncing back and forth between both of mine. I can tell he's feeling a thousand things at once right now, but can't or doesn't want to say them all, so all he says is, "I'm sorry."

I smile up at him. "There's nothing to forgive."

Then were silent. I want to hug him, but I'm unsure if that's a weird move. I don't want this night in this hotel to be anything that could give him the wrong idea. I'm attracted to him, but do I want a sexual relationship with him right now? I'm not sure that would be such a good idea. Not while I'm still trying to figure things out. Jonah is looking down at me and I can tell he's likely going through the same thought process as I am.

He clears his throat and says, "Right, so I guess we should sleep."

"Yeah, I guess so," I say, backing away from him like I wasn't just thinking about his body again.

I'm about to finally ask what this sleeping situation is going to look like when Jonah crosses the room to a corner close. He pulls out an extra pillow and a few blankets and plops them on the floor. I'm watching his every move, waiting for him to say something. He finally sees me watching and says, "No sofa, so I'll take the floor."

Instantly I feel like a massive weight as been lifted off of me. And even though there's relief, I can't help but feel bad. "No, you can't sleep on the floor. Take the bed, I can take the floor."

"You're joking?"

I shake my head.

"Y/n, I'm not letting you sleep on the floor when there's a perfectly good bed for you right here, look-" Jonah walks over and pulls the covers out and fluffs the pillow up. "Already for you."

"I can sleep on the floor, Jonah. You have to drive all day tomorrow, that wouldn't be fair."

Jonah lays out his blankets and puts his pillow against the dresser beside the bed. He lays down quite uncomfortably on the floor. "Sorry I couldn't hear you, I'm about to go to sleep."

"But-"

"Goodniiiiight," Jonah calls out before pulling the chain on the lamp.

I roll my eyes and semi-reluctantly get into the bed.

Jonah's POV

I'll do anything for Y/N, but I have to admit, this floor is probably the most uncomfortable floor I have ever slept on. I'm in and out of sleep for what feels like hours, but it's only been two. Y/n fell asleep almost instantly, and even though she's taken the bed, it doesn't look as if she's getting a good night's rest. Every now and then she'll groan in her sleep. She's almost constantly moving as if she can't get comfortable. I fight every urge I have to get up and hold her, to keep her still so she can rest comfortably.

I finally turn around on the floor and manage to get comfortable enough to doze off, but it doesn't last long. Y/n's blanket falls to the floor then she's screaming and thrashing about in her bed. I've seen her do this before. Many times before. Normally, I brush her hair out of her face, I hold her and calm her down with the pressure of my arms around her and my voice telling her she's okay and I love her. That I'd never let anything happen to her. But is that too much for her right now? If he wakes up from this night terror and sees me in bed with her, will she freak out? Will it erase every ounce of progress I've made with her so far.

Her back arches on the bed and she's crying. I can't let her suffer any longer for fear of her injuring herself. I climb over her on the bed. She shakes her head moving back and forth as if the movement will erase the terrible dream she must be having. I turn her towards me and pull her close. She shakes against me, still crying. She's sweaty from all of the thrashing she's been doing, her cheeks wet from her tears. I pull her damp hair off of her face and run my hand down the back of her head.

"Shhhh, my love, it's okay. You're okay. I've got you," I whisper. "I've got you, darling."

I feel her relax almost instantly. Her breaths are quick like a small child after a hard cry. The shaking and thrashing stops. I catch myself giving her small kisses to the top of her head and I don't have the will to stop. I can't tell if she's awake, but she holds me tighter. She laces a leg through mine and head fits perfectly in the crook of my neck. I run my hands down her back, one of her favorite ways I put her to sleep when she needs it. I love her so much I don't want to move from this bed. I'd stay here forever if it meant getting to hold her.

My soothing movements on her back get slower and slower until I find myself falling asleep. I know it's a bad idea, but this is my happy place, and I haven't rested peacefully since I've been away.

It's 04:15 when I wake up. Y/n is still tucked perfectly against my body. She's sleeping soundly and her breaths against my neck give me purpose. As ideal as this is, I should probably move before she wakes up. It was clear that she needed me earlier in the night, but she might not even remember it. Gently, I unwrap her arm from my waist and slide her leg out from under mine. I sit up and just as I'm about to lift myself off the bed, she grabs my hand.

"Don't go," she says, her voice barely a sleepy whisper. "Stay in bed with me."

God, I want to. I want nothing more. But half-asleep Y/n might differently than the y/n that'll be fully awake in a few hours.

"Go back to sleep, love," I force out.

She groans and turns back over. I smile and reluctantly crawl back onto the floor. I'm not sure if going back to sleep is still in the picture for me, but I know Y/n won't be up for a few more hours, especially after the episode she had earlier and-

My thoughts are cut off when I hear Y/n's footsteps on the hard floor. She walks around me and places herself on the floor next to me. Her back presses against my chest and stomach. I smell the vanilla and lilac shampoo in her hair. And her skin. God her skin. My hand instinctively wraps around her waist, and I pull her into me. I feel her ass press against me and pray that my body doesn't give away how badly I want her. Need her.

She's back asleep almost instantly. And this time I can't convince myself that sleeping with her like this is something she'll be mad about later. I listen to her breathing; how steady it is when she's sleeping next to me. They're hypnotizing and soothing. It's the perfectly lullaby.

And then I'm asleep. With her.

Tags: @danielabetancourth @luna2034 @wandamaximoffbae @twinkledinkleg-blog @justagirlwholovedtoread @nonsensical-nonsence @paramorelvrr @thedonswife13 @miniemonie2001 1 @jonahhauer-kingg

[1ns3ct3y3]

What is the story about? And The role of the characters?

I’m putting a cut here because i yapped a LOT and I’m too AAAAA to look at it again because I’m self conscious about it lmao (you can tell i don’t write much)

(This is very much a rough draft of it) but basically it’s about how one of the main characters, Sebastian, is trying to distance himself from the organization he works for because he’s trying to get away from it/ tear it down in a way. But because the organization has files on every person they’ve interviewed, had an employee of, or just person in the general area - they kinda of have an idea of what Sebastian is doing, therefore making them attempt to track him down and either kill him or just . Something?? I’m not entirely sure yet

But since the organization is kind of unknown to most of the area their in (not that the city they’re in is secluded, but more so the organization itself is pretty much hidden in plain sight if you aren’t looking for it), its one of Sebastian’s roles/ jobs to make sure that his full identity/ occupation is unknown, in case he comes across someone who works there aswell

So, while he is out he meets Micah, who’s pretty much just an ordinary guy at the start, going to his small apartment downtown from the main parts of the city/town after picking up his medication. The bus is empty except for him and Sebastian - Micah’s very cautious at first, kind of finding Seb weird for sitting next to him even though they were the only two there.

Sebastian only explains what he’s doing almost a week after they started talking to one another and Micah hesitantly agrees to help him (which makes their relationship kind of a slow burn almost romance? Kind of??)

They then stumble upon Sebastian’s former coworker, Jonah, who was visiting the town/ city since he doesn’t live anywhere near there anymore after quitting his position at the organization (he was the one who went through files and kept them in order, which is what piqued his interest for having his own library in a different town in a different country (the library is also his home so his whole occupation currently is a librarian))

The two speak to Jonah, who says he will attempt to help them. So he goes to the organization, and the people there talk to him, however they do not record the conversation/ interview due to Jonah’s request.

And he comes back a while later with information and then that’s the spot I’ve ended at because that’s as far as I’ve gotten :D but i wanna add some horror/ freaky elements to it yknow bc i know it’s not the best but i don’t write / make fully fleshed out stories often ;>;

So yeah, that basically explains the storyline in a way, and there’s going to be many other characters that make their way into the story !!:>

And fun fact the place Jonah currently lives in is connected to a different story with other characters in a world i made with one of my friends

I plan to do voice claims for the three characters sometime too!!! But that’s a small project for later shgdjshs

I apologize for yapping so much i know it’s probably a bit scattered 🥲

But if you have any more questions I’ll be happy to answer to the best of my ability!!!

[quietbluejay]

Galaxy in Flames 2

when my chronic illness takes a turn for the worse, I find I understand both the Mechanicus and the Nurglites on a fundamental level

sindermann managed to contact cassel or whatever his name is, the emperor worshipping moderati primus who went and found titansexual coworker to help him save keeler back to the war meeting they got a recording and I do have to wonder when Serenity came out because it's a bit beat for beat the whole woman sending out recording about the Reavers though i guess it's not that much of an original concept Serenity was 2005 huh i thought it was later than that

anyways back to the meeting loken feels a sense of ominousness that he's going to be fighting traitors. again. after davin …huh it's a little odd for Horus himself to be doing this description of the tactical situation, isn't it he's describing the environment and the plan lmao Eidolon: why can't we just orbitally bombarb it Loken waits for Horus to tell off Eidolon but he just gives an indulgent smile and Horus, Abaddon, and Eidolon are all suddenly buddies in extermination attempts Loken internally: ????? Horus explains the role he's got planned for each legion lol

Angron ofc tells Eidolon to shut up Angron:

Horus tells them both off meeting over

ah angron's not in on it yet

so loken and torgaddon are alone loken: i could feel you beaming "kill him" beams at angron when he was mad at eidolon torgaddon: lol well, all they can do now is prepare and loken's got some reading to do and now time for Erebus to do a ritual for Horus and some others oh no rip Ing Mae Sing, she's the sacrifice

I. WAS. CORRECT!!!!!!!!!! I WAS CORRECT HA

im feeling some excessive smugness anyways she dies :( time to summon a daemon and now over to Sindermann, titansexual dude and Cassar whose name I finally can keep straight Jonah (titansexual dude) is like "is the Emperor stupid? if he wants her saved why doesn't he do it himself" Cassar: it doesn't work like that they spend a few pages arguing but manage to get to Keeler just in time for Maggard to show up time for horus to talk to a daemon

it tries to talk more about what they want and horus is like "…still not seeing anything tangible here" sarr'kell: we uh…we made the warp impenetrable so the emperor has no clue what's going on horus: that was you??? that's a problem for us too i know it's pointless to talk to evil sexy lamp horus but cmon dude why are you believing it when it claims credit for something with no proof (i mean it's right, but, lol)

Friend:

Honestly, this is more resistance to Chaos than I thought he’d have, given Horus has already said ‘yes’ to the Four …why haven’t they already started warping his mind and empowering him Well, no they have obviously warped his mind, Horus is acting differently even apart from just deciding to betray the Imperium But they haven’t made him believe Chaos is real because… It really feels the novels trying to go ‘Horus fell of his volition, not just because he was stabbed with a knife’ But even putting aside Horus Rising entirely and taking False Gods as the ‘start’ Horus’s behaviour in the Erebus-induced vision is already so different from how he was before being stabbed that one has to assume Chaos was already affecting him somewhat At the very least making him irrational

Horus says he'll pledge to them after Isstvan daemon out! erebus: was it worth it! horus looks at ing mae sing's body: yes it was

you sacrificed your chief astropath for that conversation alone? okay

Friend: I see Horus’s strategic and tactical acumen has now sunk to the same level as the other Primarchs

tis the lampification lampification provides the opposite of amplification back over to the ominous scene with maggard and the guys you know what let's just grab keeler and run rip her life support tubes somehow they manage to put Maggard into slow mode or i guess keeler's no longer comatose body does it

and then she collapses again

lmaooo

so, they're gonna hide keeler

loken observes everyone getting ready and wishes for better days he even misses qruze so loken went and looked at the Chronicles of Ursh, and Sindermann had left him a note in it lol, saying "look for the temple" he figures the "temple" is the strategium which is where he is now. alone. uh oh he smells a familiar smell from davin… and yep he's found the sacrifice spot there's a book sitting there which at first he can't read but then it shifts to imperial script and then through hundreds more languages wild

spooky

let's see what tarvitz is up to ah he's already fighting

oh fun, i forgot about that anyways the fight goes well and then Tarvitz realizes he's not in a comms station, he's in a temple but we're back to "Torgaddon" and Loken Loken sees a terrible vision of a ruined city but he knows it's fake so that gives him strength "Torgaddon" calls him a trespasser

okay look i love dramatic irony more than the average person but even I'm hitting my limit

title drop!

horus rising did it better so he's still getting horrible visions time for loken to pull out the trump card

sure lol

heehoo

you'd best start believing in horror stories mr garviel yer in one hurriedly he closes the book and leaves

back to the fight at isstvan tarvitz thinks about garro a lot (he's also there) also there's magic music and that's when Eidolon goes full Black Canary much to Tarvitz's lack of enjoyment (vs the Warsinger) tarvitz: wtf

lol time for captain cardboard's first words and you know what, I probably shouldn't call him that yet, he hasn't actually done anything bad here, it's mostly in Flight of the Eisenstein that he's annoying aside from calling tarvitz lad i guess they banter back and forth well the EC have now canonically been called "pretty boys"

and now: Loken and Abaddon have a talk Loken summoned him abaddon's kind of "how dare you" about it they start to argue about davin and loken feels himself losing control of the conversation but what he wanted to talk to abaddon about it the temple

abaddon: the warmaster has a plan loken: does this plan involve killing innocent people like varvarus, karkasy, petronella, etc abaddon: lol. lmao. anyways loken wants to know where erebus is abaddon tells him to forget about it until after isstvan lol time for sindermann to give a speech

sindermann: yeah uh the saint is still asleep crowd gets restive sindermann: i saw her wake up and use her powers tho "we must protect the Emperor!" next up, tarvitz and eidolon talk about how he killed the warsinger

lol eidolon: everything comes second to winning tarvitz: ???? eidolon:…you will understand…. im just like what is even this plot with loken it's just killing time til the battle

this is a slog loken and torgaddon are talking, again they're talking about how did it come to this, again

this is meant to be ironic right?? so what's up with the order of battle for isstvan

and now over to tarvitz who is following eidolon down a secret passageway eidolon is leading him, he's not sneaking eidolon shows tarvitz a chamber of medical experimentation horrors and of course, Fabius Fabius explains some stuff that was gone over in Fulgrim The Novel blah blah laer blah blah tarvitz goes "this is sick and wrong because you're holding up a xenos race as an example of perfection! i'm out" (fabius offered to improve him) eidolon: okay, no hard feelings, go back to your men and don't tell anyone else about this

have some Cassar POV as he hooks up with his titan which he's normal about unlike some other people the mechanicum is helping out fix the Dies Irae but Cassar feels a little possessive groans

jonah and cassar talk a bit and jonah is ehhhh about what they saw the other day also the princeps is suspicious of them well, 12 hours to go before they join the death guard on isstvan over to Torgaddon and Loken and oh hey, the apothecary that tried to fix Horus is going with them guess he knows too much qruze is watching them looking envious loken decides to ask him for a favour from such small seeds mighty trees grow he wants qruze to take care of the remembrancer-iterator group okay is like black library just allergic to scene breaks or something because we have another case of not having one here

and now over to the Emperor's Children who are having their traditional pre-battle victory banquet which i've always thought was kind of stupid tbh just call it a pre-battle banquet guys what do they do when they lose

anyways, first 15-odd seconds of this is what I get reminded of every time:

tarvitz: lucius, why don't YOU tell the story lucius: okay :) oh he's going to go talk to Rylanor

he's got a request for Rylanor

so Tarvitz wants Odovocar's spot even though it means giving up his current place of honour Tarvitz is suspicious of Eidolon being Up To Something because he's not leading the speartip personally passing up the chance for glory is very ooc

anyways, Rylanor agrees Tarvitz passed his deception check

next time...mersadie takes care of a comatose woman

[sparky-is-spiders]

JON

Jon!! Jon my most beloved!!!!!!!!! He's so important to me and I love him so much. This one got long so putting it under a cut lol.

First impression:

Ok this is a fun one because of how I got into TMA and you're gonna get some Sparky Lore.

So. Through a convoluted series of events involving a warriors fan-comic, Voltron (the remake), and several video-essays, I stumbled my way into a TMA fanfic. It was a J//mart soulmate AU that I honestly really enjoyed despite having zero context for the entire rest of TMA, but my complete lack of knowledge meant I ended up w/ a very... skewed impression of Jon. I imagined him as like, a balding, middle-aged white guy with wisps of gray hair, thick-rimmed glasses, and jowls. In his 50s, maybe his 40s. No I don't know why. I also sort of thought Martin was the main character and Jon was a major supporting character in the podcast itself (I. Don't really know why??) despite the fic being entirely from Jon's perspective. Aaaaand then I scrolled the TMA tag on the author's tumblr account. Idk how I reacted to that though my memory fails me. All I know is I have now adopted the common fanon perception of Jon's appearance and also I have been made aware that he is, in fact, 28. I was right about the graying hair tho.

I can't remember how I felt about Jon at first, but probably I liked him.

Impression now:

I'm very normal about him.

Favorite moment:

Oh I'm supposed to just choose ONE????

Idk. The entirety of episode 81 (yes it's my favorite). Literally any of his snarky little comments. His interactions with Sasha. His interactions with Elias. Whenever he was rude to Martin. "Our Gerard." When he talked about hoping Jonah was good. When he was experiencing Horrible Agony. Everything.

Ok ok. But seriously. I don't know if it's my favorite but one scene that lives rent-free in my head is that one moment near the end of episode six, talking about the death of Harriet Lee, where he says "though obviously it’s a tragic loss of life, etcetera, etcetera." It's so small but I think about it all the time... just. Jon who struggles with empathy. With caring about other people. Going through the motions of it so obviously because he knows that he has to but also doesn't think it should matter... idk. Does that make sense?

It's basically this post, really.

(Maybe this is projection. It's not a condemnation I don't think any of these make you better or worse as a person.)

Idea for a story

Idea... singular? Oh boy. Ok. So I'm not sure I have a singular solitary idea for a fic that DOESN'T involve Jon.

Okok here's one I'll never write because it would involve Too Much Martin. I've talked about it before but I don't think I've ever given it a full deep-dive. It's also like 75% Pure Salt. Much of it was Rotated while listening to Arcade Fire's Ready to Start so I think you should listen to it while reading this if you want. Also it's a good song.

Anyway it's one of them "Somewhere Else is Jonah Magnus Times" AUs and also one of my (several) bitter "Jon dumps Martin for someone better" AUs. Mostly canon compliant except instead of Jon asking Martin to kill him in e200 Martin takes matters into his own hands. They're kinda stuck together because they're literally the only person the other one has in a new and strange world but there is SO much festering resentment oh my god. Lots of arguements and tense conversations that are theoretically about what they should do next but actually about what happened in e200.

Sometimes Jon considers ending the world himself. Just doing it all over again because then he can complete his initial plan to kill everyone and starve the fears. It's like an idle "what-if" but the more he thinks about it the more sense it makes. No matter what there's going to be another apocalypse. And another. And another. And another. And clearly, he can't trust anyone but himself to do what needs to be done and stop the fears for good.

(And goddammit those few moments as the pupil felt so right.)

(But this isn't about that. It isn't.)

The thought of putting someone else through what he went through is beyond soul-crushing, but there is one person who could, theoretically, deserve it. One person Jon knows would do the exact same, if given the chance.

Idk if Jon founds the institute or seeks out Jonah to join his, but either way Jon wants Jonah's help. He breaks things off with Martin (does NOT mention any of his plans) and goes off to insert himself into Jonah's life.

Jon and Jonah begin a strange, very intense relationship. Jon is sort of a mentor figure, trying to guide Jonah the way Jonah guided him (potentially Jon tries to make Jonah the Archivist??) where Jonah is constantly digging for Jon's secrets and Jon is constantly trying to keep his true plans under wraps. Also they start having an affair (obviously).

Martin is probably still in the background trying to stop Jon but he fails <3. I think Jon maybe kills him in a fun parallel to how this began. But maybe not idc.

Jon does succeed in getting Jonah to read the statement but the ending flip-flops based on how I'm feeling. Sometimes Jon does succeed and kill the fears, dooming this universe to save countless others, but I think a stronger ending would be Jon failing. Jonah learning of his plans and killing him and starting the whole cycle over again, with them transported to a new universe and trying for their own armageddons, with the implication that this is going to be an endless cycle playing exactly into the Web's plan over and over again.

Unpopular opinion

He wouldn't date Martin. They don't know each other, they don't like each other, in just about any other circumstances Jon wouldn't give him the fucking time of day. I don't care.

Favorite relationship

Currently in Jon//elias hell but Jon//sasha dual archivists makes so much Sense to me...

Favorite headcanon

Oooooh... tie between aro Jon and trans Jon. I don't buy any interpretation of Jon as cis honestly. Usually I default to transmasc (PROJECTION) but I think Jon has soooo much Transgender potential in every direction. Aro Jon just makes so much sense to me. Like it suits them so well. Aro Jon........

[morning-softness]

20 questions for fic writers

Thanks to @crit20lesbian for the tag!

1. How many works do you have on Ao3?

Eighteen

2. What’s your total Ao3 word count?

166,316 words

3. What fandoms do you write for?

The Magnus Archives

4. What are your top five fics by kudos

Netflix and Chill- (TMA, JonTim, 3k, Precanon) Tim and Jon watch Netflix and chill. They do not have sex.

Love, Or Whatever You Call It - (TMA, JonMartin, 20.5k, No Age of the Beholding AU) After Jonah's ritual fails, severing Jon's connection to the Beholding, Jon and Martin try to put the pieces of their lives back together. Adjusting to normal life again after everything is hard, and exploring their new relationship is even harder, especially as Martin realizes he might be aro-spec.

Archive Shenanigans - (TMA, Gen fic, 1k, Season 1) All the assistants are the hot assistant, or Tim says Hot Martin Rights and Hot Sasha Rights and even Hot Jon Rights.

Are You Calling Me ‘Darling’? - (TMA, JonMartin, 2.5k, No Age of the Beholding AU) Jon likes it when people call Martin his boyfriend. Martin…doesn’t.

Here Might You Bless Me - (TMA, JonMartin, 4k, Safehouse Era fic) Martin’s changed after Jon pulls him out of The Lonely, and he’s sure that Jon won’t want to stick around once he figures that out. After all, it turns out Jon has a lot of love to give, and who would want to waste their love on someone who can’t return it? Jon convinces him he’s not going anywhere.

Note: Most of these fics are in my top 6 for hits as well as kudos, but I was really surprised to see Archive Shenanigans make the list. It was the first TMA fic I published, 1k of pure unpolished fluff and comedy, but for whatever reason it has a much higher kudos to hits ratio compared to my more-read fic.

5. Do you respond to comments?

I do my best to respond to them, because I want people to know that I read and treasure all of their comments. Sometimes it takes a while though, because I want to give a thoughtful response.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Can’t Have You, Even As An Enemy. It’s a fic where Jon and Tim share a hotel room on the eve of the Unknowing, and talk about (or mostly talk around) their issues. The angst is that it’s written with the intention of being canon compliant, which means that Tim will still die in the explosion, and the best that can be hoped for is that this conversation will give Jon a bit more closure.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I write mainly hurt/comfort, so most of my fic has a happy—or at least hopeful—ending. The happiest might be Can’t We Just Wait Together? (Or Five Times Jon and Tim Didn’t Have a First Date, and One Time They Did), since it’s a 5+1 fic where the final chapter is entirely fluff of Jon and Tim going on a date together.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

No. I have comment moderation on just in case, though.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

No. Not yet, anyway. Funnily enough, my fic with the highest number of kudos is about Jon and Tim not having sex.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

No. The closest might be Listen to the Voice that Told Me where I borrowed the obedience curse mechanics from the book Ella Enchanted, but it’s not really a crossover of the world or characters.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not as far as I know.

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No. I do have a few that were podficced, though.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No. I tried, but we only got one chapter in before life got in the way. Maybe someday…

14. What’s your all time favorite ship?

Jon and Martin, followed by Jon and Tim.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I have a Melanie-pov AU where she joins the Archives in Season 2 after she realizes something is wrong with Sasha. I wanted to write it as a choose-your-path style story, because I think it’s easy in hindsight to say decisions characters made were wrong, but a lot harder to decide what the right decision would have been, so I wanted to explore a lot of different ways the characters could have messed up with Melanie added to the mix (and maybe a few ways things could have worked out better). I don’t want to say it will never happen, but it’s a big and complicated project so it definitely won’t happen anytime soon.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I’ve had several comments from readers attesting that I’m good at conveying emotion—particularly negative emotions—in a way that feels real and relatable. I’ve also been told that I do a good job portraying character dynamics.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My biggest problem is that since my writing is really emotions-based, once I’ve hit the emotional high points, it’s no longer interesting to me. Which means with longer fic it’s a struggle for me to actually continue through the falling action to the denouement instead of just stopping right after the climax. (I’ve had two getting-together fics now where I initially wanted to end right after the love-confession scene and had to be convinced by my Beta reader that readers would probably want to see at least a scene or two of the characters actually being together now.)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

I usually don’t. I definitely think it can add another layer to characterization, so I’d like to where it makes sense for the characters, but I think it needs to be done carefully so that 1. The dialogue sounds natural for native speakers of the language and 2. People who don’t speak the language can grasp the overall meaning of the exchange through context.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

The Magnus Archives

20. Favorite fic you’ve written?

Since I’d like to think my writing skill is consistently improving, my favorite fic is always whichever I’ve most recently completed. That said, I have a soft spot for Here Might You Bless Me, which made the Top 5 Kudos list above. It’s a JonMartin safehouse fic I wrote back in December 2020, where Jon reassures Martin that he is loved even if he can’t return the feeling in the same way. (And Jon uses one of my favorite Edna St. Vincent Millay poems to do so, because I wrote this before I got to Episode 165 and found out that Jon apparently disliked poetry in general, and not just Keats.)

Tagging @three-magpies-in-a-trenchcoat, @rookfeatherrambles, @chrisis-averted, @wordsintimeandspace, @suttttton, if you’d like!

[trashyswitch]

Day 23: Incoherent

Jonah and Adam are taking the long drive to a client's address to help a lady bring her dead cat to heaven. On the way, Jonah accidentally finds out a funny secret about Adam, which only temporarily distracts him from the alternates that start to plague them...

A Mandela Catalogue fanfic! Who would've guessed? I hope you enjoy!

Jonah and Adam were sitting in the car, driving to this person’s location. They had scored a deal with a woman who claimed she had been experiencing a cat ghost. Though they would be staying 3 nights at the stranger’s house, the woman offered them $500 a night, which was A LOT, especially for a call and request that had almost nothing to do with alternates. 

They drove in the car, occasionally switching drivers so they each could get a break. It was tiring driving for hours on end. And though Adam could drive for at least 3 hours, Jonah felt bad for having Adam drive so much. So, he offered to drive for a while. 

“You sure?” Adam asked. “Cause I could still go another hour.” He told him. 

“Positive. You should take some time to rest.” Jonah told him. 

Adam shrugged his shoulders and pulled over for a moment. “Fine.” He said as he turned the steering wheel. Jonah waited for the car to be put into park, before taking off his seatbelt and hopping out of the car. They switched spots with Adam in the passenger side and Jonah in the driver's seat. Adam cleared his throat as he stretched himself out, visibly tired. 

Jonah put the car back into drive and pulled back onto the road. It was dusk, meaning it was somewhat daylight but slowly growing darker. Jonah took a moment to adjust himself on the road, before speeding up a slight bit. He began to go about 65 miles in a 55 mile zone. He knew he could increase the speed a bit more if he wanted to, but he wanted to wait a bit first. 

Adam sighed and pulled out the camcorder to delete some irrelevant pictures and videos from the SD card. 

Jonah struck up a conversation. “You’re not at all worried about the fact that a cat ghost is taking over this lady’s house?” Jonah asked. Adam shook his head. “Nope. Either it’s going to keep meowing at me, or there’ll be nothing to worry about.” Adam replied. 

“And if it’s fake…then we get the heck out of here?” Jonah asked. 

“Nope. Then we get a 3-night stay at a stranger's house for free, plus a $1500 payday.” Adam replied. 

“True…” Jonah muttered. 

By now, it was dark outside. The only lights that were lighting their way were the car lights. The car GPS was still explaining to them where to go, while Jonah followed it and listened to Adam at the same time. Adam, on the other hand, had deleted another collection of photos from his camcorder. “Trust me…this entire deal will be worth it.” Adam replied. 

“Aw, come on man…” Jonah turned to look at him out of the corner of his eye. “You know I already trust you.” Jonah said, poking Adam’s ribs. 

Adam jumped and grunted, dropping the camcorder and covering his mouth when he realized how high the grunt had sounded. 

“Holy- was that you?!” Jonah reacted with surprise. 

Adam didn’t confirm, nor deny him. The truth was…Adam had always had a slightly girly voice…but this sound was abnormally high, even for him! “Uhhh…” Adam muttered, unsure what to say. 

Jonah brought his right hand over, scaring Adam for a moment. But all the man did was grab the camcorder and put it into the car’s glove box. But when that was dealt with, Jonah brought his hand up and poked Adam’s ribs again, more out of curiosity than playfulness this time. 

Adam tried to push his hand away, but still felt enough of a poke to cause a devastating reaction: A mouse-like squeak. 

“Oho my god!” Jonah brought his hand back and looked at Adam. “Are you ticklish?” He asked. 

If Adam wasn’t flustered before, he certainly was now. “...No.” Adam replied. 

“Liar.” Jonah argued. 

“Am not!” Adam argued back. 

“Then explain the door squeak that left your mouth just now.” Jonah told him, looking at the road occasionally. 

Adam stayed silent, refusing to say anything. If he lied, he would never get out of this. But if he told the truth…then maybe he’ll get out of this without further worries. 

Adam sighed. “Fine. Yes, I’m a little ticklish.” Adam replied. 

And then he heard it…a snicker coming from Jonah’s mouth. 

Adam turned to look at Jonah super quickly. “Don’t even consider trying it.” Adam warned. 

“Trying what?” Jonah asked. 

“Tickling me.” Adam told him. “Don’t try it.” Adam ordered. 

“Or what?” Jonah asked, wiggling his fingers at him as he focused on the road.

“Or…I’ll get you back.” Adam told him. 

“I’m not ticklish.” Jonah told him. 

“Don’t give me that shit.” Adam warned, before poking Jonah’s sides and ribs. “You gotta be ticklish somewhere.” Adam argued. 

Jonah didn’t even flinch. He just kept driving while Adam desperately tried to tickle him. “Sorry, Adam. I’m just not.” Jonah told him. Adam tried the armpits next, groaning in annoyance when Jonah didn’t react. He tried the neck, but growled when it did nothing. Jonah just laughed. “I’m bulletproof.” he replied. 

Eventually, Adam gave up. “That’s bullshit!” Adam reacted. 

“You on the other hand…” Jonah’s hand touched down on his ribs. “-are so ticklish, you can’t even hide it.” Jonah teased, squeezing the ribs. 

Adam wheezed and hung his head, before attempting to remove his stupid friend’s hand from his ribs. “Don’t you dare-gahahAHAHA!” Adam squeaked again, replicating his squeak from earlier. 

“Ooooh! What about here?” Jonah asked, poking his sides. 

“Youfuckin- NaaaAAHAHaha! You suhuhuck!” Adam yelled, struggling to push him away. 

“Better be careful that the ghost cat doesn’t find out about this. Wouldn’t want him to start tickling you during our ticket out of here.” Jonah told him. 

“Ihihihi- eeEEK! NAHAHAHA!” Adam laughed loudly. 

“Wow! I guess the armpits are your worst spot?” Jonah asked. “YEHEHEHESSS! HAHAHAHA- FUCK OHOHOHOFF!” Adam shouted at him as he tried and failed to stop Jonah. 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Cool it! I’m not killing you, I swear!” Jonah reacted, struggling slightly as Adam started physically fighting him. “HAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHAPPHEKGK!” Adam shouted, his words starting to go all garbled. 

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Jonah asked. “I couldn’t hear you over the sound of your girly gaggles.” 

“IHIHIHIHI- HAHAHAHAGKENLRKTJSrGKTjwktJ!” Adam screamed, his words becoming more nonsensical. 

Jonah widened his eyes as he struggled to understand him. “....W-What?” He asked. 

“AGVMTNEUO)#!” Adam shouted, making even less sense now. 

“I…” Jonah stopped tickling and pulled out the camcorder. “Keep talking.” Jonah ordered before clicking the recording button. 

“SVTIEOZ:$(%@!^)*_+L-!” Adam shouted, showing anger and annoyance.

Jonah turned off the camcorder and quickly pulled the car over into a long property driveway. Once it was put into park, Jonah turned to get a proper look at Adam. “Adam-” Adam’s face looked completely melted…and his eyes were black with white dots in the middle. 

Jonah’s heart skipped a beat. “-W-WhAT?!” Jonah shouted, horrified. 

Jonah must’ve blinked or something…because Adam’s face, and speech went completely back to normal. 

“Jonah…Are you deaf or something? Hello?” Adam asked, snapping his fingers. 

Jonah stared at Adam, confused, but freaked out. “U-Uh…” 

Adam sighed and grabbed the camcorder from Jonah’s hand. “Why would you record me?” Adam asked, pulling up the video. Jonah watched the camcorder’s screen as it switched on, and watched the video play out. 

“Keep talking about what?! You’re making no sense!” The video version of Adam yelled at the camera. Jonah’s nerves slowly began to lessen as he finally understood what he had said before. “Okay…I think I’m okay.” Jonah admitted. 

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Adam admitted. 

“No…I didn’t.” Jonah admitted. “Just…” He shook his head and focused on the windshield. “Nevermind. Let’s keep going.” Jonah decided. 

Adam placed his hand onto the steering wheel. “Hold on…” He ordered. 

Jonah bit his lip and sighed, before looking at Adam awkwardly. “Y-Yeah?” He replied. 

“I think it’s better if I drive.” Adam told him. 

“What?! No. You barely got a break.” Jonah argued. 

“You lost your mind back there…that cannot be happening while you’re driving.” Adam reminded him. 

Jonah sighed a bit louder, slightly annoyed. “Fine…maybe you’re right.” Jonah responded. 

Jonah and Adam switched seats, and went back into the car. Jonah was back in the passenger seat, while Adam was in the driver’s seat. Adam put his seatbelt on, put the camcorder back into the glove box and pulled the car out of the long driveway. 

[satansapostle6]

fire and ice | james cook

Cook’s interest is piqued when an old childhood friend moves in across the street.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Drug use. Sexual content.

part nine.

part ten. underdogs and shared evils.

The bad mushroom trip was never mentioned again. Tiff and Cook were both back to their usual selves, despite both of them having remembered what had happened the day they took mushrooms together. Both of them were happy to forget it. They went about their lives, as if nothing had happened at all. None of their friends noticed a change of course, given that no one knew about what had transpired between them, but one perceptive individual did. Jonah “JJ” Jones of course noticed the strange changes in Tiff and Cook’s behavior.

The changes weren’t major, but to JJ, who was constantly watching, they were. The changes were small, but still undeniable. Something had happened between Tiff and Cook, JJ knew, but he truly had no idea whether it was good or bad, up until a certain point. JJ watched Cook and Tiffany one day as their group congregated at the local pub as usual. Some things were the same; Cook and Tiff were inseparable. Cook and Tiff also bickered constantly. Cook was constantly teasing Tiffany.

But, some things were different; Cook would get quiet(highly unusual). Tiff would glance over at Cook(Tiff never seemed to put that much thought into anything). Cook would also glance over at Tiff(Cook was usually afraid to seem like he put thought into things). Cook started to put his arm around Tiff, and touch the small of her back while he walked behind her(Cook never touched Tiff that chivalrously). And, also, there was the key difference of Tiff allowing him to do so(this was highly unusual). JJ had no idea what to make of this. At first, he suspected, and feared, that Tiff and Cook might be secretly dating unbeknownst to their group of friends.

But JJ had eventually deduced that this wasn’t true, given that Tiff would, for some reason or other, seem very relieved whenever Cook would flirt with another girl at the pub, or around school. Truthfully, JJ had a million questions, but he wasn’t sure how to bring them to Tiffany’s attention. So, at some point, he decided to let alcohol do its job and approach Tiff as they left the pub, once she was separated from Cook and Effy.

“Tiff?”

JJ nervously walked beside her as she lit up a cigarette outside.

“Yeah, JJ?” she asked caringly.

JJ slowly formulated his question with consideration, before Cook’s untimely interruption of their private side conversation.

“Tiffy! JJ!” Cook barked drunkenly, wrapping an arm around either of them. “How’s it going, eh, mates?”

JJ winced awkwardly, secretly wishing he would leave. But fortunately for him, Tiff responded to Cook on behalf of them both.

“I’m far too sober,” Tiff took note of her internal state.

“Well, have this then!” Cook yelled.

Everyone sitting down around them, especially JJ, was startled as Cook, being unnecessarily loud and violent as usual, slammed a giant beer mug of clear liquid on the table. JJ and Tiff were both equally confused.

“A glass of water?” Tiff questioned, furrowing her brows.

“Nope. Vodka,” Cook said with a toothy grin, “Courtesy of Keith!”

JJ made a face, horrified at this revelation.

“You expect me to drink that entire thing, right now?!” Tiff shouted.

Freddie just shook his head, disapproving of Cook’s usual antics. Effy, however, couldn’t be more thrilled.

“Yeah!” Cook yelled. “Drink it!”

“Seriously?!” Tiff yelled at him, “You expect me to drink that?!”

JJ began to feel more and more sorry for Tiffany, a girl he felt was far too calm and kind for the likes of Cook. It was completely irrelevant to the situation, but JJ couldn’t also help but notice the strangely perfect way the tiny cut of black leather Tiff considered a top clung to her breasts.

“How many more times do I have to tell you, you deaf fuck?!” Cook yelled. “Drink it!”

“Stop—” JJ tried to speak up, but his voice faltered. “Stop yelling at her…”

“You drink it!” she exclaimed indignantly.

“Too late!” Cook yelled at her. “Already drank one before!”

“That is true, unfortunately. I watched him,” Freddie decided to chime in.

Tiff scowled at what must have been an entire soup bowl full of vodka, a pained expression on her face as if she was already about to vomit. JJ noticed this as he sat next to her, looking at her anxiously.

“Tiff, you don’t have to drink that…” JJ promised her, hoping he could save her from Cook.

But evidently, JJ hadn’t anticipated that he couldn’t even save Tiffany Wheeler from herself. Tiff scoffed at JJ’s coddling, waving him off.

“Fuck that!” she yelled at no one in particular. “I’m drinking it!”

“Oh,” Naomi Campbell frowned, “Please don’t drink that…”

Katie scoffed in response, “You know she’s gonna drink it.”

“Tiff makes me wish I was gay,” Effy offered her own insight.

Freddie frowned as he looked at her. Emily went oddly quiet.

“Me too,” Panda assured Effy, as Effy just smirked.

“Tiff…!” JJ complained quietly, genuine fear in his eyes.

“That’s my girl!” Cook proclaimed.

Tiff angrily pointed an angry finger at him. “I am not your girl!”

“Whoo!” Effy shouted, applauding.

“Drink it, Tiff!” Cook encouraged.

The entire group had given into Cook, and Tiff, by now, and were all either eager enablers, or silent bystanders.

“Tiffany,” JJ said nervously, his hand urgently on her thigh like a child begging his mother, “Please… You don’t have to drink that. You’ll get sick,” he insisted.

Tiff rolled her eyes as she got up, grabbing Cook’s beer before shaking her head aggressively. While Cook had never looked more excited for anything in his life, JJ could hardly stand to watch. He’d seen Tiff drink or smoke, or behave in a generally irresponsible or otherwise inappropriate manner before, but this was different. He knew there was no way that this was going to end well, at all.

“Fuck that!” Tiff roared belligerently, snatching the obscene amount of vodka off the table.

Cook watched, practically shaking. He looked like a bomb about to go off. Everyone watched, the entire pub now growing louder and louder as Cook started a chant.

“Tiff! Tiff! Tiff! Tiff! Tiff!”

Tiff became brazen as she raised the glass of vodka to the entire room, caution and discretion thrown to the wind. “I’m fucking Tiff!”

Cook roared with laughter as he and the others all cheered for her, watching in both absolute horror and awe as she downed just about the entire beer mug of vodka. JJ watched in shock as Tiff drank the liquor in a sickeningly grotesque display of blatant alcoholism. Evidently, this was a polarizing act that generally split the room into either feelings of disgust, or reverence. Pandora was squealing in excitement.

JJ seemed to be feeling both as he watched this firecracker of a girl. In a somehow fortunate series of events, Tiff seemed to accidentally spill a significant amount of vodka down her front, which seemed to be the least of her worries at the moment, given the extremely nauseous expression on her face. JJ found it extremely worrisome that the alarming intake of alcohol only seemed to encourage Tiff, as she gradually finished the entire mug of vodka, growling at the foul taste of the liquor as Cook cheered her on. Much to everyone’s horror, Tiff impulsively chucked the empty mug of vodka at the wall, nearly hitting Freddie, who ducked in shock.

Tiff raised her arm as she yelled, “Fuck yeah!”

Panda applauded her, jumping up and down. JJ’s thoughts raced at a million miles an hour as Cook, too full of chaotic and destructive energy, grabbed Tiff and slammed her against the wall behind them. JJ, Naomi, and Freddie all audibly gasped as Cook pinned a giggling Tiff to the wall by her hips, his face aggressively between her breasts as he hungrily lapped up all the spilled vodka.

“Fucking love tits!” Cook yelled, receiving validation from just about every male in the room at that point.

Freddie nearly threw up at the mere idea of that ungodly mixture of vodka, sweat, and saliva from multiple sources. Effy found herself oddly aroused, not unlike JJ, who required multiple gulps in order to keep breathing after witnessing that.

Multiple people around the room cheered and whistled as Tiff finally pushed Cook off of her. She grabbed the beer on the table where she’d been sitting with JJ, decided to slam it in the hopes of countering her nausea. Naomi and Emily both nearly vomited at the sight. Tiff downed the entire mug of beer in addition to the vodka she’d just drank, barely able to stand upright as she took the now empty glass, chucking it at another wall. JJ stared as Katie then had to duck all the projectile broken glass.

Tiff laughed wildly, without a single care in the world, as Effy Stonem decided to instigate and supply an already psychotic Cook with another shot of vodka.

Most normal people would have expected him to at least just drink it, but of course, Cook was far from a normal person. Instead, he decided to roughly pick Tiff up, and splay her out on the table like a dinner spread, spilling a bunch of drinks over Katie and Emily. Freddie and JJ both had unpleasantly out-of-body experiences as Cook carelessly dumped the shot all over Tiff’s exposed chest, sucking it up like a man discovering a desert oasis. JJ couldn’t believe what he was seeing, but it taught him something important; he’d been wrong about Tiffany Wheeler.

This whole time, JJ had believed that Tiff was a quiet, thoughtful girl who was in the wrong company. But this, it seemed, was not true; Tiff was in the exact right company. Tiff was no better than Cook, not really. JJ had initially found it strange that Tiff and Cook were friends; he thought it had to be an ‘opposites attract’ sort of situation; he thought they were like hellish fire, and soothing ice. This was true, of course, but not in the way JJ had imagined. They were more like two sides of the same coin, because at the end of the day, fire and ice both burn. Ice just takes longer to stick to you.

*****

The group left the pub fairly late; it was already dark out, and nothing good was happening beyond its doors. The only ‘sober’ ones were Emily, and JJ. Everyone else was some degree of sloshed, too caught up in their own highs and libidos to pay much attention to anything. Cook was causing trouble out on the streets while Freddie policed him, or attempted to, and most of the girls were just drunk and talking incessantly, except for Effy, who was always quiet by choice.

In that moment, she only talked to Tiff. Effy and Tiff had been walking alongside one another alone, until JJ awkwardly wandered up. JJ’s presence silenced Effy once again, as she took a proverbial and literal step back, allowing JJ to talk to Tiff, or at the very least, try. Tiff, while sober enough to walk and avoid most trouble as they all walked about the night, was drunk enough to be diagnosed as alcohol poisoning. She was slowly walking somewhat from side to side, concerning JJ greatly as he looked back at Effy, not sure why no one was paying more attention to her.

“Tiff. Hey,” JJ said soberly, lifting her up as they walked.

Tiff was so drunk, JJ had no idea how she was still conscious, but to his surprise, she was still speaking, pretty coherently.

“JJ,” she breathed, looking around.

Her vision was mostly bright rays of light splashed over total darkness.

“Tiff, you need to be careful,” JJ told her, looking up at Cook ahead of them.

Cook was currently fixated on Freddie, and harassing him. JJ silently cursed his friend, not appreciating how he’d been almost solely responsible for getting Tiff this drunk, and yet was nowhere to be seen.

“Come on,” JJ said urgently, trying to get her to focus.

“Fuck off, I’m fine,” Tiff spat, as she half leaned on JJ.

“Well,” JJ remarked, “You can say that… That’s a good sign, right?”

Tiff held tightly to his arm as they walked, much to Effy’s curiosity. JJ continued to prop Tiff up for a while, looking at her with great care in his eyes. After about ten minutes of trailing behind most of the group, JJ stopped in the middle of the street.

“Is this your street…?” he asked Tiff.

“No, it’s not this one,” she muttered.

JJ frowned in confusion, almost certain that this was where Cook and Tiff both lived.

“Which one is it, then?” he asked her, genuinely determined to find it and get her home. “It’s around here somewhere, I know it…”

Tiff grumbled as they walked, “I know how to get there from here…”

JJ turned to look at her. “Well, where is it, then, Tiff?” he asked patiently.

Tiff looked up staring at him with dead, half-lidded eyes. “Up yours and around the corner!”

JJ paused, then frowned slightly once he heard the half-baked insult, as Tiff chuckled in a low, barely conscious tone.

“Very funny,” JJ assured her somewhat sarcastically.

“You’re very funny,” Tiff giggled.

Normally, JJ would have been at least a little off put by the liquor on her breath, or her general connection to Cook, but the compliment made him blush, against his will.

“Stop it,” he murmured, actually hoping she’d stop paying such attention to him so that he could breathe.

“Never,” Tiff said simply. “I’m… eternal.”

JJ truthfully had no idea what this meant, other than it sounded like something Cook would drunkenly declare. He looked around as Effy eventually tired of them, catching up with the rest of their friends to see what Cook was up to. It seemed they were completely alone.

“Tiff…” JJ began.

“Hmm?”

He struggled to find the right words, and eventually just decided to say what he just felt he needed to.

“Can you… stop drinking? Please…?” he asked hopefully, all out of luck.

She stared at him as if he’d spoken another language.

“Never,” Tiff said, her tone melancholic and final this time.

JJ just stared back, nodding as he accepted that this was probably nonnegotiable for her, much like Cook. He struggled to come up with something else to say, to try to convince her.

“Tiff… You should really stop,” he advised her, “What… What if you die?” he asked her desperately.

“If I drink,” she slurred, “I might die… If I quit… I’ll have to die. I think I’d rather take my chances… Not see it coming,”she decided.

What she said filled him with the most foul sense of dread.

“Tiffany… Please…” JJ took her hands, holding them ceremoniously. “Lots of people…”

He realized that, knowing Tiff, there weren’t many appropriate words to describe her relationships.

“…Like you,” he declared finally.

Her dark eyes stared back at his blankly, without recognition.

“Yeah? Like who?” she questioned skeptically.

He frowned as he held her hands in his. “Well. I can’t really speak for anyone else, but… I… like you,” he professed.

Tiff just frowned. “Honestly, JJ… I care about you. I really do…”

He found this hard to believe, but not necessarily through any fault of hers.

“But ever since my brother died, all people are shit,” she confessed drunkenly. “Ever since Andrew died, all I can think about is how I’d trade every one of them for him…”

He just looked at her poignantly, unable to form any sort of coherent response.

“I think when I lost Andrew, the last living piece of my soul died,” Tiff stated darkly, completely uninhibited, “I can still feel, but it’s like one of those phantom pains… I feel in the absence of feeling… It’s like I can’t get it up emotionally, JJ. It’s horrible.”

He looked at her with the utmost sympathy. He thought she’d say something else, anything else, to explain, or at least continue, but she just stood there, barely standing, saying nothing at all. JJ hated the silence that followed what she’d said. He stopped by the sidewalk to steady her, not sure what else to do about anything at that point.

“It is this one, I think,” JJ determined, still not quite confident. “Alright… Let’s sit down.”

He slowly lowered himself down on the curb, sitting Tiff beside him. But much to his dismay, she leaned over completely, gagging a bit before completely vomiting onto his lap before he even realized it. JJ yelled out in surprise, horrified and disgusted as Tiff finished throwing up before eventually keeling over on the sidewalk.

“Sorry…”

He grimaced as he looked down at his lap, covered in vomit that was alarmingly liquid. That made sense, JJ thought, that she hadn’t really eaten anything today. He sighed as he found no suitable solution to the vomit. Not knowing what to do, or what he could do, JJ just got up with Tiff, who was now at least more awake, and feeling better. JJ put an awkward arm around her as they walked down the street, searching for Tiff’s house. Eventually, JJ recognized Tiff’s house, suddenly thankful that Cook had once described it to him in one of his lustful rants about Tiff.

JJ slowly staggered up to the front door, heart pounding in his chest as he led Tiff. He knew that no parent in their right mind would welcome any stranger carrying their drunk and nearly unconscious teenage daughter into their home. His heart quite literally pounding in his chest, JJ knocked on the door, glad to see the light on, hoping it wasn’t too late. Much to his relief, after a minute or two, the front door opened, and a tired Rebecca Meeks stood there in her comfortable clothes.

“Hi, Mum!” Tiff giggled.

Rebecca frowned as JJ just winced, trying his best to smile at the woman.

“I, uh… Brought Tiffany home…” JJ supplied.

Rebecca sighed exhaustedly as she looked at her daughter in her horribly intoxicated state, not necessarily shocked.

“Come on in, then,” Rebecca sighed.

Rebecca shut the door, allowing JJ in, which he was grateful for.

“You have a lovely home…” JJ tried.

Rebecca just stared at him, not quite sure what his deal was as she just sighed, looking up the stairs. She then looked back at JJ horrified as she looked down at his pants. JJ looked down, mortified as he remembered the vomit.

“Sorry…” was all JJ could muster.

Rebecca just looked at Tiff before sighing, running into the kitchen for paper towels.

“Here… Her room’s up there,” she said as JJ helped somewhat carry Tiff up the stairs.

“I’ll help you, ma’am,” JJ nodded.

He sighed exhaustedly, trying to be as gentle as possible as he and Rebecca ended up just kind of tossing stuff on her bed. JJ watched with pity as Tiff immediately closed her eyes, drifting off to sleep as she laid in her own bed covered in liquor and general disgustingness. Rebecca just shook her head, turning off the light as she brought JJ back downstairs. JJ stepped off the stairs as Rebecca crossed her arms, eyeing him.

“You’re not like the other one,” Rebecca observed.

JJ frowned. “‘The other one’?”

“Cook,” she stated.

“Ah,” JJ nodded, immediately understanding what she was noticing.

He didn’t necessarily know what to say.

“…How so?” he decided to ask eventually.

Rebecca frowned. “Somebody raised you,” was all she had to say.

JJ frowned again, not knowing what this meant, or how to respond to it.

“I…I guess that’s true,” he offered shyly. “Thank you, Mrs. Wheeler…”

“Why does everybody fucking call me that…?” Rebecca scoffed.

JJ gulped, fearing he’d offended her. “S-Sorry…”

She just shook her head. “Not your fault… Please. Just call me ‘Rebecca’, will you?” she asked, a certain exhaustion in her voice.

JJ just nodded. “Of course, Rebecca,” he rectified quickly.

She smiled at this. “I like you… You’re like a human puppy.”

JJ looked at her in confusion.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

“JJ,” he offered, then suddenly realizing that sounded too informal, “Or… Jonah Jeremiah Jones,” he sounded almost ashamed.

Rebecca frowned. “Jesus. JJ it is,” she scoffed.

JJ chuckled, now feeling oddly at ease. Talking to Tiff’s mum was strangely like talking to Freddie and Cook, or Tiff. He couldn’t exactly explain it, but Rebecca had the exact same calming effect as her daughter. JJ saw, now, the resemblance between them.

“Rebecca…?” he piped up.

“Hmm?”

“So, you’ve… met Cook?” JJ wondered.

She nodded. “I have.”

JJ liked the way she talked; her sentences were often short, and concise. Like Tiff.

“You… You said that I’m different… From him,” he clarified.

Rebecca nodded. “I did.”

“How…” JJ felt strange asking this question, “How am I different, from Cook…?”

Rebecca frowned, taking a moment to answer the question. “Well, you’re much sweeter… Not that Cook isn’t sweet, in his own way, I suppose.”

JJ hadn’t expected this review of Cook.

“But, mostly… I can tell the difference between how Tiff sees the two of you,” Rebecca stated.

“Really?” JJ asked her, now extremely confused.

“Yeah,” Rebecca scoffed, “Tiff won’t talk about Cook unless I force her to. But she mentions you.”

JJ looked at her curiously. “She does?”

He had no idea why Tiff would do that.

“Mm-hmm,” the woman responded, “She does. Not a lot, but… enough.”

“But… why?” JJ asked her.

Rebecca smiled sympathetically. “Because she isn’t ashamed of you.”

JJ had about a million questions he wanted to ask in that moment, but he could utter none of them. He completely shut down, staring and stuttering as Rebecca looked at him nervously.

“JJ, are you alright?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah,” he nodded quickly, already heading for the door, “Yeah…”

Rebecca frowned, feeling horrible for the young boy, watching as he stumbled out of the house. She stood by the door, watching fearfully as he stumbled down the sidewalk.

“Get home safe, please, JJ…”

JJ nodded, but could say nothing as he just kept walking, or trying to.

-

part eleven.

[gaysonlyocean]

ok ok I have a few for ogtbh

how is evelin handling everything? I care her so much how is she doing-

chaos on the car #1, the theft, I really REALLY wanna know more about Thatcher and Dave's reaction and how shit goes down after

and uhhhhh what was Adam's first kill like-

(you don't need to answer all of them i just wanted to gives some variety teehee 🥰)

oh yippee mel questions!! EDIT FROM HALFWAY ANSWERING THIS IS GOING UNDER A CUT SOBS UH WARNING FOR DESCRIPTION OF MURDER

evelin would answer being asked if how things are going with "well its going ':]" she stressed out of her mind as it is

shes trying her best to keep things under control and not freak out but nothing seems to be going right and she was already dealing with m.a.d. as it is so shes been having a lot of quiet cries to herself when shes pretty sure no ones looking

evie was also venting to jonah about things at first, but then the ear thing happened and she felt bad putting it on him when hes also stressed so she stopped and has just been internalising it

the bottlecap pendant and the conversation she has with thatcher to get it help alot though!!

god i fucking love the first chaos in the car on their end cause they have a significiantly less chaos in their car but its still so chaotic, we get two for the price of one in that bit

they literally said NOTHING to eachother the entire ride up to that moment other than a "get in" "thanks" when thatcher picked dave up cause this happens literally like. a hour after the divorce phonecall so neither are happy about this

AND THEN SUDDENLY DAVE JUST GOES "is that my car??" AND LOW AND BEHOLD IT IS AND SARAH IS DRIVING IT so dave just winds down the window and you KNOW thatchers car doesnt have electric winders so he has to turn that fucking gear thing and now hes half out the fucking window going "sarah? is that y-" AND SHE FUCKING YELLS OUT A CUSS AND HITS THE GAS SPEEDING OFF

SO NOW THE TWO OF THEM ARE JUST SITTING THERE CONFUSED BEFORE THATCHER STARTS DRIVING AFTER THEM AND THE ENTIRE TIME THEY CAN HEAR EVERYONE SCREAMING IN THE OTHER CAR

AND THEYRE NOT MUCH BETTER CAUSE DAVE KEEPS GOING "WHY DID SARAH STEAL MY CAR???" TO WHICH THATCHER GOES "IDFK THE ONLY INTERACTIONS WITH HER IVE HAD WERE HER SENDING ME DEATH THREATS WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM ME???"

theres also a lot of unhelpful comments from both of "where did she learn to drive holy shit" cause of sarahs fucking gta approach to it rn

how things go down after is they finally catch up cause unlike sarah thatcher is trying to not accidentally drift and shit and daves car is just abandoned

they go out into the area to try to find them when suddenly both of their phones start going off and then stop ringing the second they go to answer

dave thinks this is weird but thatcher thinks this is Alarming and starts looking extra hard and eventually find bps + evelin trying to sneak away and they just have. so many questions

but before they can ask any dave goes "dammit im gonna be late to the church" which makes adam panic and go "you absolutely cannot go there" and then he just. refuses to elaborate and now his friend are also vaguely going "yeah dont go to church"

obviously this is Weird so they go "right car theft forgiven your all coming with us what the fuck is going on" and they are refusing to give answers while staying at daves house for the next few days

dave doesnt mind and is happy to have people over so hes just trying to play host and having fun while also trying to contact o'brien who strangely is ignoring him

thatcher starts coming over again for the first time in years cause he also wants to know what the fuck is up with these kids and uh

he gets his answer :)

ANYWAY MOVING ON this ones gonna be a doozy ill tell you that >:)

adam killed someone for the first time when he was 15, and what he really remembers of it is the aftermath of six basically going "finally, you became one of us so young yet took so long to do this i thought youd disappoint me again and not do it, im so proud of you" cause yknow the desperation for parental affection weve all been there

it was someone in yonder county, he doesnt remember the details exactly of how the house looked from the outside, but he does remember the interior like the back of his hand

single bedroom bungalow with a really tiny bathroom, no tub, the fridge hummed incredibly loudly and they always turned the stove off at the wall for some reason, they didnt really have room for a living room but they had a nice recliner in the tiny space anyway, and a stack of books beside it, there was a lil storage space inbetween the bathroom and bedroom in which the owner kept a vacuum and cleaning chemicals

adam had let himself into the house a few days prior and had gone unnoticed, keeping himself to the little storage space, moving lil things around the house to make them doubt things

he then cornered them in the kitchen, just like hed been taught to do, and he doesnt remember he had the knife first or if they had it out but he knows he pushed it through their neck until it came out the other end

and then, despite the praise he got for it, after it was done he found himself feeling weird about it, it wasnt quite sadness and it wasnt quite guilt but it was bad whatever it was

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

Only - a Magnus Archives Fic

There are multiple versions of everyone here. At least two Martins, a few Jude Perrys, even three Georgies.

But it seems there is only one Jon - and no clear answer as to why.

Judging by Leitner's response, Jon isn't the only one hungry for answers.

Spoilers for the whole show. This is post-MAG 200.

Part three of the Magnus Monsterverse AU.

AO3

--------

Leitner had set his office in a radiating chapel. Eerily, it reminded me of Jonah’s old office, and I couldn’t put my finger on why.

Ah, that was it: pretentious as hell.

Behind the desk rose rose seven tall, narrow, stained-glass windows, each split in the center between lighter panels and dark, as if telling two halves of a story. Bookshelves lined both walls from that window to the door. The ceiling was high, the area rug thick, and the three seats before the substantial desk quite comfortable.

It all managed to be welcoming—a cozy gathering before the hearth of Leitner’s attention, insulated in colored light and academia.

Of course, the weapons ruined it.

One shelf of nothing but blades, all lengths, weird and curving shapes. One shelf of virulent-colored flacons that competed for vibrancy with the sun-lit panels. A shelf of distinctly occultic accoutrements, with candles and bones and feathers. A shelf with stacks of paper and chalk, pots of ink, and ofuda with elegant script. A shelf with six guns of varying size on little stands, grips out, ready to be drawn and fired.

None of that came close to the danger of the books beside them, though—books practically vibrating with power, sending off little beams of light or wisps of smoke or weird, tentacular distortions I was fairly sure no one could see but me.

Dear lord. This place was a powder keg.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” said Leitner on his throne, with what I imagine was the same hubris he’d had in my world before his precious library was plundered. “Though I see from your face you find it a bit more intimidating than intended.”

“I’m not entirely sure what kind of person would find it less intimidating,” I said, hunching a little into the armchair.

“Fair point! Lolly?” And he held up a little jar of them.

They were the kind one used to receive after visiting a doctor, back in the day: small, round, and wrapped in twisted clear plastic.

I stared at him. “You’re making this surreal on purpose,” I accused.

He laughed.

Had I heard him laugh before? I must have; it was familiar, though I couldn’t place it in our brief and abruptly ended conversation. Then again, I had hardly been in my right mind, having just learned some god made of Fear had claimed me.

I wasn’t in my right mind now, either.

“Well, maybe a little,” he finally conceded, putting the jar back on the desk. “I only get to induct you to all of this the once, you know.”

“Nonsense. You’ll do it whenever you find another me.”

“There isn’t another you,” he said matter-of-factly.

I stared at him.

He looked back.

There wasn't even a ticking clock in here to make the silence less rigid.

I frowned. “That makes no sense.”

“I’m afraid it’s true.” He steepled his fingers. Backlit by stained glass, the green of his little round lenses made him seem part of the ornamentation, a new and three-dimensional form of story told in images.

“Sorry, I,” Martin said, stood up, and moved behind my chair.

“It’s all right,” said Leitner. “If you need to leave, it’s also fine.”

“No,” said Martin. “No. I’m staying with him.”

“However you wish.”

I reached my hand up, over my head. “Are you sure?”

“More than anything.” He took it.

I kept hold as I spoke. “Explain that. What do you mean, I’m the only one?”

“I will be happy to—though you’ll have to forgive my layman’s terms; Manuela got stuck in the lab today, and will have to catch up with you later.” He rose and came around to the front of the desk and sat against it, arms crossed, a “cool teacher” pose if I ever saw one (which I had—I went to Oxford). “This all started because of Gertrude.”

I made a little grunt. Why did it just figure that this somehow went back to Gertrude?

I don’t know what my face did, but it must have been really something, because he laughed again. “Goodness,” he said. “Did you know her? What a look!”

“I… just keep going, please,” I said, because that can of worms still had sharp edges.

“Very well. I was told you were the Archivist at the Magnus Institute in your time, yes?”

"Spoken as if there is no such institute here."

"There isn't. This particular world is precious because it lacks all such institutions and organizations. Similarly, there is no... what was it, Martin? Solus Shipping. No Circus. It's a remarkably pristine world, even though the Fears are here - and we are going to keep it that way."

I stared.

"Regardless," he said. "You were the Archivist, yes?"

I had absolutely no idea how all of that felt. Strange? Aching? Vaguely shameful, for reasons I couldn't yet parse; a deep relief that, if there was a Jonah Magnus in this universe, he'd either never chosen the Eye, or hadn't lived long enough to create his horrid empire.

“Yes.” So strange, that my identity should bring shame.

“That makes this easier to explain. In 1965, Gertrude—then a lowly assistant to Archivist Angus Stacey—encountered an unknown creature in the Magnus Institute. She called it the Grinning Wheel, though we've been utterly unable to identify it.”

I couldn’t help myself. “It was a chimera.”

“A what?” said Leitner, his tone so light, so interested (so damned familiar).

My face burned. “Ah. I call them that. It’s when the Fears choose to work together directly—not even via human servants, but through a monster they co-create. It’s quite rare—they don't generally enjoy sharing—and tends to be something of a horror. In this case, it was a creature of the Spiral, the Web, and the Eye.”

Leitner stared. “You know this?”

“I do.”

“What else do you know?” he said, leaning forward a little.

I stared up at him. “Keep talking, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

He laughed again. “You've got  backbone! I like that for you. Never met you, you know, in my timeline; the you from my world died as a child.”

“Mister Spider?” I guessed.

“Yes, actually—would you be willing to tell me how you survived after I answer your question?”

“I... maybe.”

Martin’s spare hand moved to stroke my hair. The tension left my shoulders.

“Well! At any rate, this… chimera… resisted all her attempts to slay it. It murdered Stacey, ripping off his face, then came for her, as she was the only remaining living person in the Archives. She managed to fend it off, but in the process, angered it severely. It became obsessed.”

“She didn’t kill it?” I said.

“She did, in your time?”

“Yes. With fire.”

“Fascinating,” said Leitner. “She did not try that. Instead, the thing haunted her; began taking out people she knew and loved, hanging about outside her flat, generally being a nuisance.”

I felt pale. “A nuisance. Murdering her loved ones.”

“I am giving you her words, Jon, not mine.”

Chiding. That was chiding. Why the fuck was he being—

No, he wasn’t chiding. He was defensive, because I was picking apart his story when we didn’t even know each other. “Sorry,” I say. “I’m… I’ve lost whatever limited knack I had for talking to people.”

"Oh, don't fret over it too much.” He waved a hand. “You should hear the things I put up with from my own staff.”

Barely audible, Martin mumbled, “Maybe if you were less theatrical.”

I snorted.

Leitner raised one white eyebrow. “Someone has to be, hm? Anyway. Shall we continue?”

I stroked Martin’s hand with my thumb. “Please.”

“It pursued her. Resisted all attempts to banish it, kill it, drive it away. Finally, she had enough, and when, in 1974, she located the hair of one Agnes Montague in the ashes of a place called Hill Top Road, she got an idea. She used her knowledge as Archivist and her connections with various Powers to create a ritual.”

I got an odd feeling. “Wait. Who was working with her at that point?”

“Pardon?”

“You said, ‘connections with various Powers.’ Who?”

“Oh. From what she wrote, it seemed she knew avatars from most of the Powers; they were all willing to do her a favor and lend their aid.”

I stared at him.

“What?” said Leitner.

“She… didn’t go on a killing spree, is what you’re saying.”

He looked alarmed. “A killing spree? Gertrude Robinson?”

We gawked at each other.

“Every time I think I know what to expect,” Leitner said, uncrossing his arms and pushing up his green spectacles, “someone goes and surprises me. That is to say, she is certainly quite capable with weaponry, but are you actually telling me—”

“She is capable? She’s alive?”

"Yes, this world's version of her is alive. She works for me. I’ve never even heard of a murderous Gertrude.”

I sputtered. “What, this isn’t—wait a damn minute. I thought we were all from the same timeline. Martin is from my timeline, isn’t he? So how don’t you already know this?”

"Only up until 1974. Besides which, Martin has yet to tell me much about what happened to him,” said Leitner. “I’m hardly going to force him.”

I twisted to look back over the top of my chair.

Martin was barely visible, cast in shadow. He looked back at me, eyes soft, still green, but faded.

Right. My need to know things would wait. “I think we’re about out of time,” I said, turning back around.

“It’s okay, Jon,” Martin said. “Finish.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ll hurry,” said Leitner, hands up. “The point is this: her ritual was… quite bad. Wrong, in fact. It shattered reality.”

“Shattered?”

“It…” He sighed. “Manuela can explain it precisely, including the mathematics involved. Suffice it to say that Gertrude created a…” He considers. “Like an ice floe with with cracks in it. Chunks can break off at any time, carrying whoever may be atop it away with them.”

That was a startlingly clear visual. “She did that?”

“She did.” He sighed. “I’m afraid I barely knew her, so I can only tell you what little she said and the statement she left behind—one which we managed to gather before fleeing that dying world.”

“So… whatever she did meant that…”

“It meant that whenever one of your particular group—tied to the Archives via actual employment, or having given a statement, or through some other means—made a major decision, it split off a piece of that ice floe. Eventually, there was nothing of the original left, which is when my world ended.”

Oh, I had so many questions.

I also had so little time. I licked my lips. “How did you survive that? Not to mention get into… whatever all this is?” I said, one hand-wave taking it all in—the leather, the weapons, the width (approximately half of the Leitner I’d met).

“Gertrude got me into it. We met at an off-the-book black market for occult wares; I could never tell you fully how it happened, but we ended up having a wild adventure that night—car chases, firebombs, a few things I genuinely thought were demons until she taught me otherwise. Then we parted ways, and I never saw her again… but I’d already caught the bug.”

“The… the bug.”

“The drive. The desire. For knowledge, for adventure. It’s contagious, you know—being a hero.”

Good lord. “Yes, well, Sasha said I’m immune to everything now, so,” I snapped before I could think.

He chuckled—a dark sound this time, and I had no idea how to interpret it. “Regardless: here is what you were truly asking. These timelines all ended. One after another, they sank. Manuela believes that they were never… whole? Exactly? Never stable enough on their own to remain afloat, but the curious thing is that the people who made the decisions that broke off those pieces were also the ones to end them.”

“To end them for the Fears.”

“Yes.”

“Every time? None of them ended in nuclear war, or something?”

“None. Though war was often involved; that usually came down to the Slaughter or Desolation.”

So many questions. It’s challenging to pick a single line of inquiry. “None of this explains why you claim there’s only one of me.”

Leitner rose and walked over to his bookshelf, where he peered at spines for a moment.

With his back turned, it felt less rude to rise from my seat and press against Martin. He leaned in as though I were a much larger person; his little exhale seemed grateful, as though I gave him warmth.

“Here we go,” said Leitner, and offered me a book. “This involves many of the calculations Manuela has been making. It’s all Greek to me, but perhaps your… particular insight can clarify?”

“So you’re saying you don’t know?” I blurted, feeling vaguely offended.

“Oh, I can tell you what was observed,” said Leitner. “You always die.”

“I… I die?” I felt pale again.

“Always. Usually in childhood; more often after you’ve taken your job at the institute, though sometimes, it happens before. One of those Georgies out there sacrificed you, in fact, by accident, to the End.”

I suddenly regret having stood so soon. “What?”

“You. Always. Die. Frankly, I don’t understand why that is. She’s charted all the offshoots at this point, or so she believes; we know every single world, and who ended them. Jon… you are the only Jonathan Sims who survived.”

My legs were definitely made of eyes, because standing on them suddenly became incredibly difficult.

Martin held me up. “Steady,” he murmured against my ear.

“That’s… that’s ridiculous.” I swallowed. “Look, we haven’t even gotten into the… the incompatibility of time itself! I was where I was for nearly a thousand years! At least! How did… I don’t understand!”

“Right, that is technical information which you’ll need to get from her—and I can tell Martin is about at his limit.”

Damn it. I hadn’t meant to do that. “I’m sorry, Martin.”

“No,” he said. “No. We don’t go until you’re fed.”

Fed.

He wasn’t wrong.

But I…

“Suffice it to say yours was not the last world found, but it took far longer than others to die,” said Leitner.

“What?”

“We only bring one of the Lost here after their world has ended; to do otherwise would be heartlessly cruel—leaving those who survive at the hands of their chief Fear, without restraint. Most end within a span of fifty years, Jon. The longest—apart from yours—lasted a full seventy-five. ”

"Why was mine so different?"

"We don't know."

I shuddered. “So… you could rescue all the people from those worlds. And you don’t.”

“Please, Jon. Be practical. Where would we put the population of another Earth? How would they eat? Live? Even work? Think. I know this seems cruel, but it is not—you are discussing taking the entirety of the Titanic onto a single lifeboat. No one would survive.”

“Then why are you doing this at all?” And I yelled it.

I hadn’t meant to yell. I…

I have no right to yell. I did this. I ended my world. Where the hell did I get off, being angry at anything?

He watched me, silent while I twisted, as if giving me a moment to reach that conclusion before speaking again. “I am determined that this world will not die. Determined. And the best way to do that, in this case, is deterrence.”

“Deterrence?

“Mutually assured destruction.”

“You have completely lost me.” I trembled.

“I’ve got you,” Martin whispered.

“This world has its Fears. It has its avatars, its monsters, its power-hungry beasts—but now, it also has those who have suffered the price of their hubris, and who will go to any lengths to ensure that end does not happen again.To put it bluntly, we ensure it is simply not worth it to attempt the ending—not for anyone, at any time.”

I stared at him. “You’ve brought… world-ending people together to prevent further world-ending?”

“Yes.”

“That’s… that doesn’t work at all!”

“Except, of course, that it has.”

“You can’t tell me for one moment that everyone you… rescue is on board with this!”

“They aren’t. Those ones, however, are hardly given free rein.”

I stared. “Nikola.”

“Oh, you heard? Yes, she’s one of the few we couldn’t convince to fight for the side of life. Unfortunately, that means she must be detained. Not cruelly. But… there it is.” He shrugged.

I didn’t remember taking the book he held out, but it was in my hand. I realized because I wanted to throw it at him. “‘Fight for.’ What does that mean?”

“It means, through Manuela’s calculations and certain… abilities of our employees, we are able to seek out those who would end the world here and stop them. With extreme prejudice, if necessary. Usually, however, they can be convinced, and the threat passes.”

“You can’t know…”

“We can. Some of my rescuees are Web.”

My shaking grew worse—and not only from shock.

I’d been floating in the same information, the same memories, from centuries. This was not just new information. This was wildly new, and the Eye sang in me, blooming like a flower, and my own soul spewed light like a sun rising over the hill, and I wanted more, so badly. I wanted to know everything he knew about all of it.

Through my shirtsleeve, Martin’s hand on my arm had gone cold. I was out of time.

One… just one more question. “Why do I always die?”

“I have no idea, though Manuela might. The thing that interests me, Jon, is that you’re tied so keenly to almost everyone I rescue—the sole exceptions being those who died before you were born. Even in my world, my world’s Gertrude ended up involved with your grandmother because of your disappearance. Is it coincidence? Manuela says there is no such thing… but suffice it to say, it seems worth looking into. We searched for a long time before finding you.”

Again, I didn't know how to feel. "My world."

"Yes. And we had to wait, as stated, for it to finish its... final cycle."

"So it's dead."

“Yes. Dead. I’m sorry.”

“No, I… I knew it was dead.” I swallowed; my throat felt dry (not enough aqueous fluid, I suppose). “It was all… the memories all became one circular thing. I knew. Though I had no idea how long it had all gone on.” It didn't feel like a thousand years.

It felt like... a solid week of fever, dizzying and spining, but surely not as long as all that. Surely.

It was, the Eye told me, a pleasure in Its wordless exclamation.

I shuddered. I turned to wrap an arm around Martin's waist.

“We can continue this later, of course,” said Leitner, almost kindly. “But I think you have an idea why I wanted to see you today.”

“To see if I’m on board with saving the world.”

“Something like that.”

“I have no interest in ending it again, if that’s what you wanted to know.”

“Excellent! We can discuss it further later—I think it better if you take your lover and go, yes?”

My lover.

My… My Martin.

“I’m sorry,” I said, looking up at him.

His breath felt cold. “No, Jon. I could’ve left any time. Don’t you try to take my choices and blame yourself for them. We’re not doing that.”

What an odd thing to say. “That was a loaded statement,” I murmured.

“Not here,” he murmured back.

“Off you go! I’m sure you’ll have more questions,” said Leitner. “I’m very glad to finally meet you, Jon. That’s all I wanted to say.”

Familiar.

Something about… how he said my name, or…

“Tell me next time how your world ended,” Leitner added. “I try to record these things so we can avoid the same mistakes.”

“Fair enough,” I said. “Thank you for your time.” Damned politeness, ingrained even after being a floating monster for a thousand years.

“We’re going my way this time,” said Martin.

“Pardon?” I said.

Martin took a handful of lollies, smiled at me like the peaks of ice-capped mountains, and pulled me into the fog.

[magnuficent76]

would mephisto get along w wilhelm. would melaine get along w tannis. would archer get along w wainwright

VERY NICE QUESTIONS !!! LEMME

Mephisto would Not like Wilhelm no matter how attractive he may be to them. Maybe as Jonah they'd be more tolerant despite still disliking his Authority Above All attitude, but in general I just don't think either one would enjoy the other's life choices. They're like opposite spectrums of Being A Cyborg despite both upgrading themselves to get rid of human weakness ironically enough, only Mephi is very chaotic about it while Wilhelm is more calculated and doing it for the sake of a company. Plus, Mephisto is... unpleasant to say the least, and Wilhelm isn't exactly the face of kindness either, so I think they'd just be rude as hell to each other until one gave out and went the other way grumbling all mad.

Melaine and Tannis would 100% love each other, and I have it in my heart they've known about the other's researches even before they properly met. The two of them are giant nerds and Severely Autistic about their respective science, so I feel like they'd just talk for hours on end jumping from topic to topic with a "Oh yes, this reminds me that—" every 5 minutes, and then they have to get reminded to stop working because they'll just get way into it. Tannis would enjoy Mel's company because ze understands what she's talking about and accompanies her reasoning without asking tons of distracting questions, and Melaine would enjoy Tannis because she's clearly very passionate for what she does and for the cause she stands for. Autistic Girls night [does a fucked up experiment with you]

Given Archer isn't...uh, around for the Maliwan invasion, I think Wainwright and him could have a really nice conversation honestly. They probably respect the other enough to put aside company differences, and I can see them playing pool together, but otherwise I think they'd be mostly quiet around each other, very silent respect kinda thing. Archer would be a little skeptical of his niceties and it freaks him out to know that it doesn't come from a place of wanting something back, so he's a little out of his element during the entire interaction, while Wainwright is just disappointed to know this is a man who's buried himself in layers upon layers of normativities to fit in with everyone else, wishing there was a way for him to get out of the trench he already built for himself. They're the kindsa guys who'd nod at each other as a method of communication.

It's funny too, because if we go by timeline, Archer would've met Wainwright when they were both around the same age. If he met current-day Wainwright though he would've gotten attached to the old man, packed his bags and joined Jakobs.

[casspurrjoybell-27]

Our Hearts Collide - Chapter 12 - Part 2

*Warning - Adult Content*

Simon

"I'm glad you're here," Xavier said.

"I think he needed this, we both did and I think it was about time. He missed you a lot, although I don't think he'd admit it out loud."

I didn't correct him as Vince stepped away from the kitchen, holding two plates.

He handed me one before sitting on the opposite couch.

"I wasn't sure what you liked, so I grabbed a little of everything."

"Thanks."

I looked down at the assortment of options.

"I could've grabbed a plate, you know."

"Figured I'd make up for you having to deal with my snot-fest."

Xavier scoffed.

"You look like shit."

"I could say the same to you."

Xavier rolled his eyes.

We watched as the kids played around on the floor with some blocks and toy cars as we ate.

Occasionally Xavier would bring up some pack business to Vince to catch him up on the things he's missed or bring up some embarrassing story about the kids walking in on pack meetings.

I had missed hearing about Xavier's adventures as a new parent and hearing about how being alpha of the pack had been for him but most importantly, I had missed watching the two of them talk and discuss things.

No matter how much they got on each other's nerves, it was evident that they cared about one another.

They'd mostly joke around or make fun of each other but I found Vince loved advising Xavier, especially when it came to the pack business.

Sarah and Aspen joined the kids on the ground, playing with them while chiming in when Xavier talked about his kids.

I mentioned just how obsessed Rowan was with Vince and his gift and at his name, Rowan would hold his doll up to show us.

I picked at my food slowly before setting it down entirely, just content in watching Vince interact with all of us and watching as he laughed at Xavier's jokes or interacted with Jonah or Lilah when they addressed him.

It felt so 'normal.'

My cheeks warmed with that thought and I think Vince had felt it too as he glanced at me, his head tilting before smiling softly, then returning to the conversation he was having with his brother.

Vince had set his plate down as Lilah walked up to him.

"Uncle Vince, I has a question."

His brows raised as he leaned in towards her.

"Yes?"

"Are you and uncle Simon married?"

Lilah peered up at him, her arm pointing in my general direction.

"Like Ro Ro's mom and dad?"

There was a brief silence as all our attention was on Vince, who was at a loss for words.

His blank expression elicited a laugh from both Xavier and I, as well as a smirk from Aspen and Sarah who had heard the conversation from where they were standing.

Vince glanced between Xavier and me before looking back down at her.

"No."

Even with her back turned, I could hear the pout in her voice.

"Why not?"

"Uh..." he looked toward us for help.

"Okay, Lilah," Xavier jumped in, still amused by the whole thing.

"You're going to give your uncle a heart attack, that's enough now."

She walked to our side of the couch with her arms crossed, obviously not happy with not hearing his reasoning.

Vince breathed a sigh of relief, his cheeks pink in embarrassment before he excused himself to put the empty plates in the kitchen.

Xavier helped Lilah onto the couch between us.

"Sweetie, you can't just ask that kind of thing."

"Why not?"

"It's okay, Xavier."

I looked down at her, who still had that adorable little pout of hers.

"We're not married but we are mates. Just like Rowan's parents are, we just don't have a ring or anything."

She tilted her head curiously.

"But you were holding hands when you came in."

"People can hold hands, whether they're mates, married or just friends. You and Jonah hold hands, too, right? And so does Rowan when you two play with him."

She pursed her lips before nodding.

"It's like that," I said, even though it was a bit more complicated than that.

"People hold hands when people like each other."

"So you like each other?"

We glanced over at Vince, who was washing his dish, purposely avoiding looking this way after his interrogation with Lilah.

"Yeah, we do."

"Oh, okay."

Lilah glanced around the room before sliding off the couch.

She spotted her brother and Rowan playing with some blocks near the hallway.

She looked up at Xavier.

"Daddy, can I go play?"

"Yeah, of course."

He ruffled her hair.

"It's almost Rowan's bedtime, though. You have about thirty minutes, okay?"

She nodded before skipping off to her brother.

"She's adorable."

"Yeah, she is," Xavier agreed.

"I honestly don't know where she gets her energy, though."

"It's going to be cute watching them grow up."

"Oh, for sure. It'll be hard when they get their mates, though. They're all so close, what if their mates live in other packs? I'd hate for them to grow apart."

In the hallway, Jonah was helping Rowan with making a tall tower of blocks.

He was smiling and laughing, something we seldom saw when he was alone.

"Especially Jonah. He's more reserved. He's only come out of his shell around Rowan and Lilah."

"I'm sure he'll be just fine. He's gotten a whole lot better since he was younger. I mean, you've watched him grow up at the orphanage, he's completely changed since then."

Xavier nodded.

"Yeah, I'm already dreading the day they decide to move out. I'm not used to being a parent and I'm already stressing about what'll happen when they become adults."

"You'll always be their dad."

"I know."

He smiled softly, just as Vince returned from the kitchen.

"You're safe," Xavier teased.

"No more kid interviews. Well, for now."

I looked up at Vince.

"You got to admit, that was kinda adorable."

He scoffed before going back to his seat.

"I was not prepared for that."

"You should know by now how inquisitive she is. At least you won't have to have the talk with her later."

Xavier sighed.

"Have fun with that," Vince mocked before looking at me.

"Did you want any more food? Aspen and Sarah are packing the leftovers up."

"I'm fine, thanks. Did they need help cleaning up?"

"They said they got it. What'd I miss?"

"We were just discussing how it's going to be fun watching the three of them grow up. Finding their mates and all that."

He glanced at the three of them working together to build things with the colored blocks.

"It sure will be."