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the-random-phan · 2 years

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A Fresh Start (Quite the Introduction)

Danny Phantom x The Magnus Archives

Potentially a one-shot series. Or not. Idk yet! For now it's one standalone chapter :)

Word Count: 3,518

Ao3

FFnet

Summary:

Danny wasn’t exactly in the best position in his afterlife. Functionally immortal, and the biggest fish in such a small pond. There was no challenge to life. Just an endless repeat of motions. So when Clockwork offered him an out, he took it. It was a simple offer. Clockwork would open him a portal to a new universe, where he could try again at another life. A different life. This world was different from his own, down to the very fabric of existence. It was amazing how quickly he got dragged into the supernatural right after universe-hopping. He must be a magnet for this kind of stuff.

Story Start!

Danny… wasn’t really sure where he was. He knew how got there, of course. Clockwork wasn’t exactly subtle.

With his friends and family gone and buried years ago, Clockwork was one of the few who Danny maintained a relationship with. Along with Frostbite, and of course Pandora. Even a few of his old childhood rivals had weaseled their way into his inner circle. But time passed, and ghosts faded.

The loss of Ember had hit the hardest and was still the freshest in his mind. She had achieved her dream of stardom. She got all she had ever wanted. And she had nothing more to keep her ‘alive’ for lack of a better word. With a smile on her face, she followed Skulker into whatever came after the afterlife.

It seemed like everyone on the planet had mourned her. There had been candlelight vigils, and her name was said more after she faded than it had ever been while she was… present. It’s what she would have wanted, more than likely.

Even Vlad had faded. When Maddie died, Vlad’s obsession died too. He was sent into a spiral, one that his ghost half never quite recovered from. He could have kept living, but every moment was a tortuous pain. His core had never been that stable to begin with, and it was tearing his human half apart just as quickly as it healed. Vlad lived longer than a human ever should, but he eventually succumbed.

Dani was still kicking, but she and Danny hadn’t talked in decades. She never aged, always looking around 12 years old. It made it hard to live for hundreds of years when people thought you a child. She traveled the world still, wanting to see everything before it changed with the tides of time. She’d crawled every inch of the globe again and again.

Before, in the beginning, she would weasel her way into various families adopting her, but after the 12th big brother died, she took a break. And never went back to it. Some of the families even knew of her condition and took her in anyways. But they had drifted apart. They just didn’t mesh very well. He was still far too human for her.

Amity Park didn’t exist even anymore.

So the culmination of all this is to say, Danny wasn’t exactly in the best position. Functionally immortal, and the biggest fish in such a small pond. There was no challenge to life. Just an endless repeat of motions.

So when Clockwork offered him an out, he took it.

It was a simple offer. Clockwork would open him a portal to a new universe, where he could try again at another life. A different life. This world was different from his own, down to the very fabric of existence.

“You won’t be quite the same,” Clockwork had explained.

“And neither will I. It is true that I exist there- I must exist everywhere, in order for a where to exist. But that… self, is quite different from this one. My powers as they exist here are an entirely different form, as here the rules are different. My being had to mold itself to these rules for my self to exist.” There, Clockwork had paused to see if Danny understood.

“Each universe has a Clockwork, but they’re all different?” He’d replied.

“Yes,” They’d nodded.

“The one you’ll interact with is quite different from myself. Very… large. Even with your existence it would take billions of years before you could grow to truly witness it.”

“That sounds… eldritch.” Danny wondered aloud. Clockwork nodded in affirmation.

“A good way to put it.”

“As my charge, you will be under the jurisdiction of my counterpart. That way I can still see you. Your own powers will surely change, and mold to fit the rules of the world you enter. It is… quite a lot.” Clockwork’s tail flicked anxiously.

“The humans there refer to it’s being as ‘The Eye.’ I’m sure you see the irony to the Observants.” Clockwork frowned, most likely remembering the pushy eyeballs.

“But it is only one of many beings that are quite similar.” Now there had been a mischievous glint in Clockwork’s eyes.

“Any more than that, you’ll have to discover yourself.”

With that, they’d risen from their chair. Clockwork assured him that, should he manage to die in that universe, Clockwork would pull him back before it could happen. And when Danny was truly done, Clockwork would do the same yet again. No matter what, Danny would still have a tie to his homeworld. For that, he was grateful.

Within minutes (why delay when you have eternity?) Danny had stepped through a portal into the unknown. He shivered with excitement.

~~~~~

So, here he was. Wherever ‘here’ was.

Danny was glad Clockwork had warned him about his powers because as soon as he stepped through the portal all sensation from his core had abruptly cut off. He highly doubted it existed here. The way Clockwork had put it, this universe sounded very different from his own.

…Except for the landmarks, it would seem, because Danny was staring right at the London Eye. Ironic, given what Clockwork had told him.

It was probably the old spirit’s idea of a joke. It did get a chuckle out of Danny.

There would, of course, be time for sightseeing later. Much later, because Danny’s stomach was growling in a way it hadn’t for millennia.

He shuffled through his pockets and found some bills. Hardly pocket ‘change’ as there was at least a thousand dollars there. Danny had inherited Vlad’s belongings, and money wasn’t really an object for him anymore. At least, back home. Here, he only had 2,000 dollars to his name. In a country that didn’t accept dollars.

Luckily he was in a tourist area. It didn’t take much asking, before he was pointed in the direction of a place where he could exchange currency. Luckily they accepted it. Which turned out to be around 1,600 pounds. He had no clue how much that meant, really.

Why had Clockwork put him in the UK, of all places? Why not the US? Not like Danny would legally exist in either place, but at least there his money would’ve worked.

Danny didn’t have time to debate Clockwork’s thought process as he had an upset stomach to deal with.

Food. A restaurant, or maybe a convenience store? Something cheap.

Danny wandered for a bit, getting even more lost than he had been before. The tourist attractions and sight-seers gave way to tight housing and apartment complexes. The places by the tourist areas were all way overpriced, or at least in Danny’s opinion. He’d asked the man at the place where he’d exchanged his currency, and he gave Danny a small pamphlet with some example conversion rates. The date on the pamphlet told him it was 2016.

Danny stopped briefly in front of a shop window to examine his appearance. Danny had stopped aging in his early twenties, but he looked even younger than that. Maybe, 19? His hair wasn’t as long as it had been. It was just barely pulled back into a ponytail. Wisps of black hair streaked with white framed his face. One of his eyes was the usual blue, but the other was a bright green. The only thing it didn’t have was the glow. He looked to be a combination of his human and ghost halves. That made him glad, that he still had all of himself. Even if he didn’t maintain his different forms. But that made sense.

Finally, Danny stumbled into a small store he vaguely recognized the logo of (a lot of things can change in thousands of years, okay?). He rummaged through what was on the shelves and grabbed whatever was most appetizing, and cheap. A lot of junk food. But oh well. He could worry about his feature health after he filled his stomach.

Danny wandered up to the register with a basket full of stuff. He counted the amounts and pulled change from his pockets. He counted the strange currency under his breath. When was the last time he had even used physical money? Which is to say he was quite distracted, and jumped seven feet high (figuratively) when suddenly there was a hand on his shoulder.

“Shi-” Danny cut himself off. The money from his hand scattered across the ground and he stumbled to pick it all up.

The intruding stranger bent down to help.

“I’m terribly sorry,” The man apologized. He handed Danny some coins, which is when he finally got a good look at the man.

He was short, squirrelly. His black hair was slicked back, and streaked with white. Much like Danny’s, ironically enough. He had a small, pencil-thin mustache. He looked almost like a cartoony villain. Then Danny kicked himself for thinking that because it was wrong to immediately label someone like that. He’d gotten too used to his thematic rogue gallery.

“I simply wanted to introduce myself. Elias Bouchard, at your service.” The man- Elias- held out his hand. Danny stuffed his money back in his pocket and returned the gesture. Elias shook his hand and then pulled him to his feet.

“I dunno why you’d want to talk to me,” Danny replied. He effortlessly put on a generic British accent, so as not to stand out as a foreigner. Language was one of Danny’s big interests. It had never failed to keep him entertained, which was a rarity. He spoke hundreds of languages, even some that had died out millennia ago in his own world. And ones that probably didn’t even exist here yet. Hm. He wasn’t sure if Ghost Speak would work here, or if it would only die out on his tongue. Something to test.

It was Danny’s turn in line, and he walked up to the cash register. He hoped Elias would take his turned back as a sign he didn’t want to talk. But sadly, Elias did not get the hint. Or he simply ignored it.

Danny offered the cashier his money, but suddenly there was an arm in what looked to be a very expensive coat stuck out in front of him. Elias grinned at Danny as he offered the cashier his card. She looked at Danny as though to ask what was going on. Danny just shrugged, and with an eye roll she accepted the card.

If this dude wanted to take time out of Danny’s day, why not let him pay for it.

“You just seem like quite the interesting person…” The pause was asking for Danny’s name. He hesitated to reply. This felt rather like a dealing with the fae. Like as soon as Danny offered his name, he’d regret it. But of course, the fae weren’t real. He was just being paranoid.

“Danny.” He replied curtly. He accepted his bags from the cashier and made for the door. Elias trailed after him. Outside of the store, Danny simply chose a direction and walked. Elias didn’t even look twice.

This was becoming bothersome.

“Danny… Is it short for something?”

“Nope.” Danny popped the ‘p’. Elias made a sound of interest.

“I don’t suppose I could ask for your second name?”

“Nope.”

“Well, Danny. I don’t suppose you are looking for work, are you?” What? Danny leveled Elias with a Look.

”You lingered for quite a while over the prices in the store.” Elias explained casually. He stuck his hands in his pockets. It did nothing to offset his formal attire.

“What would you say if I was?” Danny asked suspiciously.

“I have a… vacancy, you could call it. Well no- not technically, but we could make one. If you’d like the position.”

“What kind of ‘position’ is it?”

“An assistant, of sorts. Basically librarian work. Sorting, organizing. A bit of research. Rather easy.” Elias waved a hand in the air, as though to wave off Danny’s concerns. Huh.

Danny was rather lacking, but he wasn’t sure this offer was trustworthy. Elias himself didn’t seem trustworthy, for all of his candy-coated exterior. Danny could just feel that something was wrong. But he was desperate, honestly. He wasn’t looking forward to where he was going to be sleeping tonight. Meaning, he didn’t know where. Maybe he could get this Elias to take him in for a night.

If push came to shove, Danny could still defend himself. Even without any powers.

“Your assistant?” Danny dug further. If he was even going to consider, he needed details.

“Ah, no. You’d be assisting the Archivist. Head Archivist, I mean. Jonathan Sims.”

“He works under me. I pop in from time to time, but mostly he and his team are on their own.” Elias explained.

“What’s this place called, again?”

“Why, The Magnus Institute of course. Don’t tell me you’ve never heard of us?” There was a glint in Elias’ eyes as his gaze met Danny’s. Danny felt like he was being… investigated? There was something more to Elias’ gaze than simple curiosity. But Danny kept his face neutral, and didn’t let Elias get anything more than what he was willing to offer. Which, right now, was an intrigued but wary teenager.

Danny was considering the offer seriously. Elias wasn’t even asking about any credentials, which of course he didn’t have. The biggest holdup was the man himself. But if what he was saying was true…

“If you’re in a hurry, we could even sign the paperwork tonight if you’d like. Even paid in cash, if that matters to you.” Elias offered. This had bad deal written all over it. But Danny was curious. It’d been a while since he’d been curious. Genuinely. What was this guy’s deal?

“Where is this place?”

“We’re already here.” There was a predatory glint to Elias’ smile.

Sure enough, they were. Elias must’ve guided them there. Danny hadn’t even paid attention to where they were going. He didn’t realize Elias had taken the lead. Hm.

It seemed to be a rather unassuming building. Obviously old, but nothing on the outside directly revealed what it was. Aside from a small, metal placard next to the front doors.

‘The Magnus Institute Est. 1818’ it read. So, that was legit.

“Ah…” Danny began.

“What is it, exactly, that made you so interested in me? We just met.”

“I saw you. Simple as that.” There was something beneath that smile. Ghosts didn’t tend to layer themselves like this, they were a lot more straightforward. Danny wasn’t sure who was more intrigued by the other, him or Elias.

“Let’s not dilly-dally, I’ll show you around and we can get things sorted.” Elias stepped up to the front doors and Danny followed dutifully behind. This was either gonna be really fun, or… Danny wasn’t sure quite what, yet. And that sent a thrill up his spine.

~~~~~

“Would you like to meet who would be your coworkers first, or get the paperwork sorted?” Elias questioned. They’d already toured the Library and a place called “Artifact Storage.”

Immediately Danny had been enamored by the rooms full of creepy -haunted?- objects, all carefully categorized. Elias hadn’t said exactly the nature of how the items were cursed, but he’d told Danny about a few things. Small items, mostly of inconsequence. He suspected that Elias was trying not to scare him off. Which, fair. But also Danny couldn’t help but want to know more.

Particularly about how Elias had steered him away from the bulletproof case of books.

The Library had been a bit of a let-down, but the Artifacts had drawn Danny in. He wanted to stick around, to see some of the effects for himself even. It was amazing how quickly he got dragged into the supernatural right after universe-hopping. He must be a magnet for this kind of stuff.

Danny didn’t want to get cold feet and back out of this.

“How about we head to your office?” He decided. Elias nodded and off they went, through hallways that Elias seemed to have memorized even better than the back of his hand. He was truly in his element.

Danny managed to keep up with the brisk pace, and soon enough they were walking through a door that said ‘Elias Bouchard, Head of The Magnus Institute,’ The title made it seem like Elias was way too high on the ladder to be picking up ‘employees’ on the street. But, oh well.

It was his funeral. Danny had already been to his own once before and it hadn’t been as enjoyable as one might expect.

Inside the room Elias immediately went to sit behind the desk. Danny took a rather uncomfortable-looking chair that sat in front of it.

Elias started to root around in the desk drawers and pulled out what he wanted with a flourish. It was a thick packet of paper, presumably the employment contract.

“Your title will be Archival Assistant, rate is 15 quid an hour. Though it may very well go higher depending on your performance. Typical week is Monday through Friday, nine to five. You can find more details about sick leave and vacation on the front page.” Elias spouted off details rapid-fire. Numbers flew past Danny’s hand but he managed to grasp it for the most part. If he remembered correctly, 15 quid was around 18 dollars an hour. That wasn’t too shabby, especially just starting out. When he had no qualifications. Why was Elias giving him a chance, again?

“You’ll have to head over to the financial department every two weeks to receive your pay, until we can get your bank account sorted.” At that, Elias gave Danny a pointed look as though to say, ‘I know more than you.’ Which in any other situation Danny would know wasn’t true. But in this world, it very much was.

Elias spun around the packet and produced a pen for Danny to sign with. He pointed dramatically at a dotted line.

“Just here.” He said with a smile that did not meet his eyes. Danny was getting some bad vibes from this.

He pulled the packet out from under Elias’ finger and began to leaf through it. Elias buzzed unhappily but didn’t say anything. Danny wasn’t so stupid as to sign something without knowing the contents. He leaned back lazily in his chair but didn’t venture quite so far as to put his feet on the desk. That was a bit too cocky, even for him.

But Danny very quickly got bored of all the legal jargon that whooshed over his head. Law had never been Danny’s strong suit. He tried his best to seem like he was comprehending the words, if only because it looked like it was making Elias sweat.

One page in particular stood out to Danny. Unlike the rest, he could comprehend it. And oh boy. Oh this was so shady. Danny loved it.

The page detailed how, were the head of the institute to die at the hands of an employee of the archives, those employed there would be terminated. The language was very… loose. Danny could tell what it meant though. It stood out on the page as though plain as day.

It sounded like a dead man switch. Why would an employee want to kill Elias? Why had he built that into the paperwork? Certainly something like this wasn’t simply part of this world. It was out of left field in contrast to how Elias had spoken this far. Danny could only wonder what the method would be. How could Elias ensure that those in the Archives would die if he did?

Then again, this man was absolutely entrenched in the supernatural of this world. He was at the center of a paranormal hub. Danny already knew that eldritch beings existed. Mysterious causes of death weren’t exactly outside of the range of possibility, But also, Danny couldn’t die here. So it was a moot point. It left him to wonder, though. And that was a dangerous thing.

On the same page was a paragraph saying that the head of the Institute could not be held accountable for any damage to one’s person or belongings due to supernatural causes. Which wouldn’t be all that strange, were it not on the same page.

“What are you playing at here, Elias?” Danny used the man’s first name on purpose. He looked startled for just a moment but schooled his expression very quickly.

Elias stood from his chair and planted his hands on the desk so that he was lording over Danny. He plastered a very smug smirk on his face.

“You can sign it or leave. It’s up to you.”

“But I doubt you want that, do you, hmm?” That sounded very much like a thinly-veiled threat. Huh.

Danny schooled his expression into a grin much the same as he signed on the dotted line, ‘Danny Fantom’. A fitting mix of his names, for his mixed-up appearance.

Elias’ smirk spread into a toothy smile. He held out a hand, which Danny took in kind.

“Welcome to the team.”

#danny phantom #dp #tma #the magnus archives #crossover #elias bouchard #i love to hate this man #clockwork dp #nonbinary!clockwork #dp x tma

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babygoldenplover · 1 year

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transness and the accompanying fear of being Known/found out by the wrong people means that all of the Magnus Archives staff + Elias are trans no i will not elaborate thank you for coming to my TED talk

#tma #the magnus archives #trans #transgender #sasha is a trans woman #martin is a trans guy #jon is nonbinary #elias is a trans guy #jonah was in for a surprise when he hopped into that body #magnus archives #tma sasha #tma jon #tma martin #oh i almost forgot tim is a he/they #tma tim #tma elias

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comas-are-for-sleeping · 12 days

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ammoral women in media :D

ammoral men in media >:(

(there are outliers)

#by this logic magneto is nonbinary btw #and the last ‘villain’ in legends of korra also i forget her name #there is a slight sliding scale #but thats on individual cases #for the most part it is pretty black and white #for example:#elias bouchard vs lena kelley and gwen bouchard #jonah magnus vs gertrude robinson #trying to think outside of magnus land ummm #idk there are just Super Similarities between characters in those two podcasts #mostly its just women who i find iconic who are also.. like ngl Shitty people #slash like. canonical terrorists 🧍#(mystique/raven but shes like genderfluid or something right)

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speedh1ghway · 1 year

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Since this is my tumblr and I can post anything I want, here are some Sonic colour-picked pride flags

In order: trans Sonic, bisexual Amy, lesbian Blaze, nonbinary Big, genderqueer Tails, agender Silver, nonbinary bisexual Sally Acorn, agender bisexual Elias Acorn and pansexual Rouge

#sonic the hedgehog #big the cat #miles tails prower #silver the hedgehog #amy rose #blaze the cat #rouge the bat #Sally acorn #Elias acorn #pride month #biseuxal #genderqueer #lesbian #agender #nonbinary #transgender

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nedsseveredhead · 1 year

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Explaining to contractors at works that i have to shave completely whenever theres an emergency that requires me to go be around family because they dont know im a man

#jk no one at work knows im trans and i intend to keep it that way #but it is funny to me that you can track when im going to visit family by the state of my facial hair #also i say man to generalize the post im still bery much nonbinary #not a man not a woman not a secret rhird thing im just ned #or elias #or francis ive been feelin that one recently

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kaikishoku · 2 years

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(short story) first contact.

4312 words.

Every day is the same as the last.

5:30 AM: Wake up. Lay in bed for roughly half an hour staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the metal ceiling above, wondering how they're even still sticking after all this time.

6:00 AM, give or take ten minutes: Get up and go to the bathroom. "Freshen up," as Sara might have said back on The Surface, with peachy toothpaste carefully pushed out of an almost-empty tube with the back of a transparent blue toothbrush that has definitely seen better days, taking the smallest amount possible on the tip of the brush and using it. Afterwards, splash cold water (which can't be made any warmer than the northern Atlantic ocean was rumored to have been back in the day) to both wash off any bubbly toothpaste residue, and to immediately get rid of any last final traces of sleepiness. Drag a brush through unkempt sleepy hair, struggle to get it into a ponytail, and then decide the loose bun is good enough for government work.

6:15 AM: Say hello to the Founders on the way from the dormitories (occupancy: 1) and stand in front of the breakfast vending machine in the cafeteria attempting to decide what exactly to eat that day. Pancakes, waffles, overcooked scrambled eggs, toast, yogurt... The possibilities appear endless, but appearances are deceiving.

6:30 AM: Sit down at the best seat in the house (the one by the wide windows depicting some city in the world; today is New York City, maybe, or Toronto; it's always been hard to tell those two apart in the movies, and there's no way to reference them in real life now) with the same breakfast chosen from the machine: two pieces of toast and banana cream yogurt.

7:00 AM: Wash tray, then head to the second floor. First up: The Arboretum. Check the Temperate Zone 6 and see how the redwoods are doing, along with their associated flora, and then go around to the other zones in order from favorite to least favorite. Do the same for the botanical gardens, starting in the desert to see how the cacti are faring because they, like the redwoods, are a favorite.

3:00 PM: Buy a pack of cinnamon gum and a bag of dill chips from the lunch vending machine. Continue plant research while eating.

6:50 PM: Check message center. Empty, as usual.

7:00 PM: Sit down at the master computer and record the log for the day, though the words are exactly the same as the day before. "Elia Myste, researcher and observer on the Regalia. Environmental studies continue to flourish, and while The Surface still looks rank as ever from the bridge, I have hope that reintroduction will succeed once I'm given the clear. Elia Myste, signing off."

8:10 PM: Get ready for bed with the same routine and gusto as in the morning.

8:30 PM: Lay in bed staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars on the metal ceiling above, wondering why anyone would stick them up on a ship destined to be hanging above The Surface in space anyway.

10:00 PM: Fall asleep.

Rinse and repeat. Even changing it up every so often, like getting a coffee to go with breakfast—something Elia decides to do today, crouching to take the canned drink from the vending machine aptly labeled BEVERAGES—doesn't make the day actually feel any different. The plants they take care of will still be alive and healthy, kept at perfect temperature for their needs and free of disease or pests; no messages will show up on the master computer when they boot it up; and the glow-in-the-dark stars that keep them company at night will continue to stick to the metal ceiling as if hot glued there.

Despite that, Elia finds one of the stars fallen onto their bed when they stop back by their room to pick up a blanket. They stare at it, iced instant coffee numbing their fingers, and look up to see if they can figure out which constellation—none of them familiar, or even recorded in any of the station's books—it came from. The effort is a waste of time and completely fruitless; they don't find where it fell from, and the ceiling is too high for them to put the star back up without having to locate a ladder.

"Well," Elia says to themself, turning the yellowish-white plastic decoration around and squinting at the smooth backside (how did it stay up there in the first place?), "I guess you're my new partner. Let's go, uh..."

They pause, holding the star up to the cold, bright lights of the space station.

"...Estella?" They try, then shake their head. "No, we can't have two E's on this station."

'I must really be lonely,' they think after a moment, pocketing the piece of cheap plastic and picking up a red and orange blanket that's seen much better days. 'I'm talking to some old, crappy decoration that's been here longer than I have.'

Elia still finds themself taking it out every so often throughout the day, adding something new to their usual routine; while it does not get any less ordinary or boring to look at, it does offer them something else to play with aside from their pen or the keyboard on their miniature laptop the institute had provided for record-keeping of the plant variety. They begin to notice little other differences in their day as well post-starfall, like a few new bright pink blossoms on a desert cactus that had seemed completely against the idea of flowers, a different color and swirl in the clouds on the planet below, and a new and picturesque view on the cafeteria's windows—the Pitons, located in St. Lucia. Elia vaguely remembers visiting them on a class trip before things had become completely unlivable on The Surface. It's enough to have them looking forward to the end of their day to see if the message center has any news waiting for them—something to tell them that it's alright to start the journey back down, or maybe a simple happy birthday for all the years they've been without congratulations...

Disappointingly, though unsurprisingly, the message center is as barren as ever. Elia waits ten minutes, willing something to show up before they sigh and shove off to go record the day's log instead. Two clicks puts them in the application, a red recording light flickering on, and they withhold a second, longer sigh in favor of getting this part of the night over with so they can go to bed and resume their boring, everyday routine.

"Elia Myste, researcher and observer on the Regalia," they begin, leaning back in the black office chair that used to be quite comfortably plush but has since been pressed flat with how often it's found itself occupied (and sometimes slept in, though it was more common back when they thought there might have been a chance at anyone contacting them). "Environmental studies continue to flourish. Three new blooms occurred today, and a new sapling was found growing in a spare space. While it's not going to live very long considering the root structure around it, the fact the trees can breed without the assistance of other animals or human intervention is a welcome sign of self-sufficiency. The Surface had a small change of color, at least in the part the Regalia is currently over, but we're still message-less over here—so I assume we're not ready for reintroduction yet."

Elia taps the desk in front of them, then continues: "I have hope that it will succeed once I'm given the clear, however. Elia Myste, signing off."

The recording light turns off with another click, and Elia starts to get up; a flashing icon in the corner of their eye makes them pause, and they slowly sit back down as they register just what app it is: an old messenger application installed on all systems located in the research facility. It had had its uses back in the day, or so they presume, but not once since working here had it ever shown any sign of life.

Until today. They tap it quickly, heart so far up their throat they feel like either they might pass out from a difficulty breathing, or they might just get sick all over the expensive and irreplaceable computer in front of them. The first feels more likely as a cutesy bunny mascot pops up on the screen, juggling letters before they scatter across the application's screen, and the rabbit freezes picking them up—the logo of QuickMess, they guess, and they drum their fingers on the mouse impatiently as they wait for the UI to load.

Four updates later, they can finally access the message, and Elia can barely hear the click of their mouse over the blood rushing in their ears.

H.CASTI: Hi there! I don't know if anyone's out there, but I found this app on one of the old computers down here?

H.CASTI: I'm Hiros B T W! Looking forward to a reply!

It isn't a name Elia recognizes, but the message is fresh—extremely fresh, like this-was-sent-within-the-last-ten-minutes fresh—and they waste no time with a reply, grimacing at their typos only in the aftermath of it.

E.MYSTE: holy siht are you fro real

God, whoever this 'Hiros' person is was going to think them an uneducated idiot. That immediately doesn't matter as Hiros' next reply comes in seconds later.

H.CASTI: O M G! Sure am! What's your name? What's it like above the waves? Have you heard from anyone else?

H.CASTI: Oh, and what's your favourite colour?

Elia doesn't even think they have a favorite color anymore, or if they did, it'd been quickly taken over by the fresh green that comes with the lushness of healthy, happy plants. They wipe their palms on their blue jeans, wetting their lips—they have no idea why they're so nervous when it isn't even like this person is here, and hell, maybe this wasn't even a real person but some kind of chatbot triggered after a certain amount of time to keep researchers from going absolutely stir-crazy with no social interactions. It seems stupid for it to only show up after all this time, but seven years might be its time limit.

Whatever. Elia types their replies as quickly as possible, backspacing a few times with a swear when their mind goes faster than their fingers and fumbles another set of awkward, embarrassing typos. They aren't going to keep making mistakes like that—on the off chance it isn't some kind of bot, they really don't want to come off as a total idiot.

Hopefully, they haven't already done so.

E.MYSTE: elia

E.MYSTE: cold and dark and kind of lonely

E.MYSTE: you're the first hence the insane typing

E.MYSTE: and green i guess

H.CASTI: Oh L O L I see! Nice to meet you Elia! The Surface doesn't look dark though? On my screens it's proper bright, but I guess you might be somewhere with perpetual nighttime? I lived somewhere like that for a right bit. Guess that's why I'm so cool with it! Or cold L O L.

H.CASTI: My favourite colour is vermilion B T W.

The idea that it might be a chatbot takes root a little more firmly in their mind considering the way Hiros types—it's outdated and reminds them more than a little bit of their grandmother back when they used to keep in touch on "the social medias," as she had liked to put it. Elia is ninety percent sure that she had only called it that to irritate them, though. Frustratingly, it did every time.

Their attention returns to the screen as they see H.CASTI is typing... again, and they're glad their coffee is long-since finished, or else they might have choked on it when Hiros stops typing, and the message flashes onto the screen.

H.CASTI: Do you want to video?

E.MYSTE: i

E.MYSTE: yeah i do letme jsut grab soemthign to eahr with

So much for making less mistakes and not looking like an idiot. Elia drops to the ground and yanks open the bottom drawer of the desk, rifling through it; as they do so, they hear a gentle beeping from the computer, and they bang their head coming back up with a pair of unopened earbuds. They cut the pad of their thumb opening it, but manage to shove at least one in before they hit to accept the video call. The screen goes black, three blue dots blinking one after the other in the middle of it as the signal struggles to connect, and they tap the desk, leaning in.

"Come on, come on, come on—"

The three dots all light up at once, and for the first time in seven years, Elia sees another living, breathing human being. Hiros is the palest person they've ever seen, even before boarding the Regalia; if they weren't in such a well-lit room, Hiros would look more like a rescue beacon than another human being, and Elia tries to match the bright, puppy-like energy Hiros directs to them with their own smile.

It feels awkward instead, and Elia drops it; their reflection in Hiros' round glasses, frames almost too big for the other's face, mimics them. The next thing Elia notices is how red Hiros' hair is and, paired with their wide, hazel eyes, marks them as being of Irish descent—not to mention the peppy, jovial accent that rounds out their speech as they break the silence.

“How're ya? Ya seemed frazzled o'er the chat-thingy here, so I thought ya might be a wee bit better speakin'.” Hiros leans into the screen, obscuring Elia's view of them entirely; their voice is soft but masculine, so tentatively, Elia assigns them as 'boy' for the moment. “Right pretty ya are though, aren't ya! Love your earrings—can't stand those long hangin' ones myself, get all caught up in my hair—right pain it is.”

Elia finds their voice with a short laugh, covering their mouth with a hand. “Thank you. It's— it's nice to meet you, Hiros. I just can't believe it,” they continue, leaning back in their chair. “Someone else. How long's it been since you spoke to someone? Seven years for me.”

“Oh, well, probably just about the same.” Hiros moves back again, pushing his shaggy red hair behind his ears; four piercings shine briefly in the light, three studs and one short crescent moon dangler. Warmth surges through them at the sight—it's nice to see the two of them match in some small way, as coincidental as it's bound to be. Hiros adjusts his black jacket over his cream white shirt, and Elia discovers it's easier to relax than they thought it'd be as they realize that he's just as nervous as they are. They put the other earbud in, resting their head against their hand as Hiros clears his throat and continues. “So? Surface? What's it like?”

Elia blanks, then realizes it's a continuation from their conversation on the app. “I'm not on the surface—I'm on a space station. The Regalia. Heard of it?”

“Oh!” If Hiros could grin any wider, they're sure he would be, but he's thankfully stopped by the constraints of the human face. “Regalia, yeah. Went up some time before I got shuttled down here. I'm in the, uh... What's the yoke's name... Sguaba Tuinne. Named after Manannán mac Lir's boat.”

The grin wanes a little, and Hiros mimics Elia's position, slouched back in his chair. “Guessin' yer guess is as good as mine when it comes to what's goin' on up there—down there for ya, I guess—then.”

Elia smiles in a way they hope is as apologetic as they feel and wishes Hiros would sit back up again so they could judge it in his glasses. Maybe it's time to add practice expressions in the mirror so you don't come off as a total weirdo next time to their schedule. Sometime before laying down to sleep, or more accurately 'trying to sleep', they guess.

"If it's any consolation, I've got good news from up here. I don't know what they've got you watching over, but I'm in charge of—flowers, plants, trees, all of that. Every biome that existed on Earth before the whole..." Elia makes a circle in the air with their fingers. "Thing, yeah. Anyway, it's—it's going well. New blooms. Healthy specimens. Ready to replant whenever I'm given the go-ahead to land back down."

"Ooooh," Hiros replies, leaning in; the screen casts a glare on their glasses, illuminating them like the moon and obscuring their eyes. "Meteorologist. Keepin' an eye on the weather up there from down here—lots o'storms, lots o'sun, lots o'changes. Would've had a station on the Surface if not for the whole—"

Hiros grins as he mimics their air circle, his long fingers gracefully ducking in and out of the computer's bright light.

"Thing, yeah."

Elia's grateful for the dark color of their cheeks; not too many people notice when they blush because of it, and Hiros seems to be no exception as he settles back in his oversized office chair. A meteorologist and a phytologist—certainly two important types of people to have keeping an eye on things and working towards reviving the world. Hiros rests his cheek against his knuckles as he continues on, the screen shining off a ring on his right middle finger.

"I watch air quality an' all that too—doesn't matter if the extreme weather up top settles down if we can't breathe it, yeah? Though yer plants oughta help a wee bit with that once they're rooted." Hiros smiles, but it's hard to tell how genuine it is with his eyes half-hidden by the glare of his glasses. "Ya keepin' tabs on soil quality too, Elia?"

They nod shortly, instinctively moving their cursor to their second screen to bring it up; with some wrangling, they manage to pull it in view of the camera, the monitor arm behind it squealing in defiance at being used for its intended purpose at long last. It only occurs to them after a long moment of silence that Hiros probably can't read a thing on the screen, and they clear their throat, embarrassment making the blood rush to their ears again.

"So, uh—if you look here... This one on the left monitors everything in the space station's nursery. This one's for the desert room, specifically for a shadscale zone—that's a zone with a high salinity, er, salt content, in its soil. Places like southwestern Nevada have this." They click through a few folders, different sections of the Great Basin Desert flipping before their eyes until they murmur a little ah-ha and select the one they're looking for. "And here's an area with a shadscale zone on the Surface itself."

The colors couldn't be more different: while the one in the space station is a bright orange with yellow running through it, the one on the Surface is a pale, sickly white, its ridges mapped out in bright blue. Elia stares at it, half smiling, and traces the map.

"So—there's a regular amount of salinity in the one on the ship—right temperature, right precipitation, right everything. Absolutely perfect, ideal, like I've got my own little piece of this particular desert... and I guess you can say I do. But over here," they tap the Surface's, not even sure if Hiros is following along but not willing to look over and see just how much they're embarrassing themselves, "here, it's all salt. Every single bit of it. Nothing's growing there—there's spots of that in this zone too, but it's not the whole thing, and the ones here flood every so often just like they're supposed to. Playas," they continue, pushing the monitor away a little bit. "They're called playas. Fascinating places."

"Why's it called a shadscale zone?" Hiros asks, his voice peaking at the end in blatant curiosity, and Elia chuckles—it feels so much like when they'd assist their professor in university.

"Shadscale is the name of a plant—also known as the spiny saltbush; it's commonly found around areas like this, especially salt flats. They're evergreen bushes native to the western U.S. and northern Mexico. Fun fact: they're in the same family as the amaranth flower."

"Ya grow those too?" he asks, and Elia grins wider.

"I said I've got everything up here, don't I?"

They go through a few more zones and plants like that, Hiros asking questions and Elia's worry that his interest is purely out of politeness slipping away as quick as the time does from them. They only notice how late it's gotten when Hiros catches a yawn in his hand, eyebrows knitting together apologetically.

"Not usually up this late," he says, his gaze darting to the corner of his screen; Elia does the same to theirs and bites back a wince as 10:51 blinks at them. "What's the time on yer end?"

"Ten-fifty-one... at night. You?"

"We're not too far off, are we? Not continents at least." Hiros stretches, the microphone catching the creak of his chair. "Closin' in on two in the morning here."

"I sat down at seven..." Elia rubs their face, mentally counting the hours—their first contact with another person in years, and they'd spent almost four hours talking to them? It doesn't seem real—doesn't feel real—but the soreness in their throat surfaces to confirm their numbers. They cough, wishing they'd brought a water or can of tea over. "Sorry to keep you, especially with boring plant talk—"

"Weren't borin' to me," Hiros interrupts; he's grinning when Elia's gaze snaps over, and they get the feeling he's been directing that expression at them for a while now. "I like watchin' people talk when they're passionate 'bout somethin'. They get a li'l twinkle in their eyes."

He taps the left side of his head, then gives them a wink. Elia coughs and looks away, busying themselves with turning off their extra monitors. They stop when they get to the last one, the one with Hiros on it, and hesitates. Their hand settles back on the desk, just shy of the mouse, and they sigh.

"Guess this is good-bye for now," they say, but they make no move to turn the communication off.

"I'm guessin' so," Hiros replies, but he doesn't move either, and the two of them sit in a silence that feels like it's trembling. What if this is the last time they speak? What if something happens to one of them, or to the communications center, or the program itself? Elia curls their fingers against the desk, questions rising like the waves their newfound companion lives far beneath. They're almost certain that Hiros is asking himself the same questions with the way his smile turns a little sad, thick eyebrows pressing together.

Elia sighs, counts to three, and banishes the thoughts from their heart. They smile brightly, knowing it's forced by just how awkward it feels on their face, and give a little wave.

"Let's talk in the morning, okay? Or afternoon, whichever. You're a few hours ahead of me, so I'll let you pick."

Hiros blinks, but returns their smile, drumming his fingers on his desk audibly. "Ten your time, one mine. I tend to sleep-in anyway—bad habit of mine. Never died after college. Ta-ta for now, Elia."

"Ta-ta," Elia repeats, and their heart aches with the silence and loneliness that folds over them when the video call ends. The ship comes back into focus as their attention draws away from the computer screen: the hum of its engines as they stay in orbit of the Earth, the buzz of the lights above them, and the electric harmony of the systems that keep them alive so far from a home that would kill them to step back onto—

And, most of all, the quiet that signals to them that they truly are the one and only person on this ship. Elia draws their knees to their chest and presses their face into them, taking in a deep breath and holding it until their lungs feel fit to burst. Did Hiros feel that way now, realizing just how lonely it was to be alone in the cataclysmic aftermath of human contact? Had he ever gotten used to the quiet, or did being underwater afford him company they could only dream of? Elia can't imagine that fish are very good conversation partners, but then again, neither are trees or the stars that send their light careening through millions upon millions of miles of pitch-dark space. At least fish move and react and feel alive. Flowers and trees move too, but it feels fundamentally different—active versus passive, maybe—and Elia sighs as they finally pull themselves from their chair and make their way to the washroom to freshen up for bed.

Their loneliness slowly transforms into excitement as they crawl beneath their covers and stare up at the glow-in-the-dark stars on their ceiling, finally locating the spot Estella had fallen from—they'll have to put it back up in the morning, they decide. Tomorrow—tomorrow they could resume their conversation with Hiros. Tomorrow they'd see him again, first thing in the morning. It's difficult to get to sleep with that thought hanging around their head and making their heartbeat quicken—they think about what to talk about, if they should dress differently or do their hair differently to put out a better second impression, if they should bring a flower or two to show off their progress, if...

They drift off to sleep as their thoughts turn to meeting up one day, somehow, some way, the blanket tucked tightly around them like a cocoon.

#short story #hiros casti #elia myste #sea and star series #lgbtq #(elia is nonbinary!)

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ninth-tentacle · 1 month

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Holy shit I'm gonna come out as trans to my parents tomorrow wish me luck

#i came out as nonbinary years ago #but they dont know i go by elias and im on t #so well see what happens

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akalikai · 3 months

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To everyone saying ERROR is our beloved archivist Jonathan Sims, I honestly don't think it is. And if it's Jon, then I don't think it's the Jon we know from TMA. Especially since it seems established that ERROR is VA-ed by Beth Eyre, not like, more than one VA. With her being Lucia Wright in TMA, I'm more likely to believe that ERROR is femme-presenting or just not a man. And as much as we headcanon Jon as nonbinary, he is canonically a man (I think).

I don't think it's him, but maybe it's another archivist? Or if it IS Jon, he might have pulled an Elias and body-hopped. I really do think it's probably a woman.

#tmagp #the magnus protocol #tmagp ep 21 #tmagp spoilers #tmagp theory #tmagp ep 21 spoilers

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i-can-read-to-him · 9 days

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The Wesper Fic Club's Author Spotlight is a post series that aims to feature two to three fic authors a month, randomly selected from a pool of names put forth on our server. The authors are then asked to answer three interview questions, select up to five of their fics for us to feature, and finally, recommend three fics by others in the fandom.

(Note: Our spotlighted fics are not limited to Wesper, though they tend to be a central pairing in most of our authors' featured works.)

This week, we are putting a spotlight on Elias's writing!

Socials: @starwritebrekker (Tumblr) | starlightwrite (AO3) | starwritecos (TikTok) | wellelwrites (Instagram)

❀

Part One: Author Interview

Q: What’s your favourite fic you’ve written for this fandom?

A: Do Us Part! It’s my first time writing a modern AU and I’m loving the challenge of finding modern day equivalents to the Crows world.

Q: When did you first start writing? What keeps you going today?

A: I’ve been writing stories since elementary school, earliest I can remember is second grade (seven years old). What keeps me writing is how much writing feels like a release. I’m not very good at speaking what’s going on in my head (see: neurodivergent), and writing it out helps me comprehend my own thoughts more and it helps me communicate my thoughts much better. It is my favorite form of expression.

Q: Who is your favourite character? What do you love about them?

A: Kaz Brekker. This boy is the embodiment of a person in survival mode for most of their life and not truly understanding what it is to come out of it. The world has hardened him but inside him, despite his best efforts, there is still that hope. That heart.

Q: Have you had a chance to interact with the SAB cast? Tell us about your experience(s).

A: Amita liked the photo of my Dregs tattoo on instagram! I love her so much and I’m so glad she interacts with the fandom so much as well.

Q: If you could be friends with any character in the Grishaverse, who would it be?

A: Matthias and I both grew up with organized religion being the backbone of our perspective of the world, so I feel like he and I could get along well. I want to give all the crows a hug (an air hug for Kaz).

Q: What are some headcanons you have that you consider your personal canon?

A: Kaz Rietveld-Brekker is transmasc. Argue with the wall XD. (I am nonbinary transmasc I hold this headcanon so close to my heart).

Q: Are there any songs you strongly associate with a favourite character or ship?

A: Francesca by Hozier is Kanej coded.

Q: How do you feel about your fics being translated into other languages?

A: Go forth and translate (just give me credit please and thank youuuuu)!

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Part Two: Selected Works

Do Us Part

Teen | 4.1K | Kanej, Wesper, Helnik Modern AU, Mentioned Character Death, The dog lives In Progress

Part of the Wesper Fic Club Big Bang 2024! The Crows run a funeral home in the suburbs of a modern day Ketterdam. There’s death. There’s a dog. There’s healing. There’s still a dog.

No Funerals

Teen | 10.1K | Kanej, mentioned Wesper, mentioned Helnik Vampire AU, slowburn, Wesper Child, Alby Rollins is there In Progress

There’s a figure that haunts the Barrel at night since time immemorial, he exists in the shadows and watery reflections of the canals of Ketterdam. He was once the undisputed king of the city, and now? He runs a gang of misfits and swindles the merchant council, not even death can escape his cheating.

Forever Not to Disappear

Teen | 20.5K | Kanej, Wesper Sickfic, slowburn, healing from trauma In Progress

Kaz Brekker is stuck in bed (it’s a bad illness day) and is forced to reflect and process his emotions.

Clouded Judgement

Teen | 441 words | Kanej, Wesper Stream of Consciousness, Wishful thinking, Reflective Kaz Brekker Completed

Post-Season Two finale of Shadow and Bone, Kaz is hoveled up in his room, and his mind never stops moving. Nor does his pen.

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Part Three: Author's Recs

I’m The Perfect Stranger Who Knows You Too Well by @remadora-black / actressforever14 (my sister Cassie!)

Teen | 54.9K | Kanej, Wesper, Helnik Jordie Rietveld Lives, Childhood Trauma, Major Illness In Progress

Cassie’s description: What if Jordie did not die of Firepox? What if, instead, when Kaz returned from the Barge, his brother was waiting for him. Firepox would leave them both forever changed, but how will the course of the rest of their lives go? What will happen to Jordie when he realizes his little brother is no longer the boy he knew before, and that he has been left with a shell of a boy with only one thing on his mind: vengeance?

What the Water Gave Me by 19burstraat (astardanced)

Teen | 23.9K | Kanej, Crows friendship Post Canon, Canon Divergence, Angst With A Happy Ending Completed

Kaz as a Tidemaker. Get into it. Kaz as a grisha is extremely my sh*t.

You’re A Dog And I’m Your Man by limelacroix

Not Rated | 27.8K | Kanej, Wesper Kaz Brekker gets a dog, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort

Kaz Brekker gets a dog. That’s the whole thing.Also extremely my sh*t

The Unexpected Visitor by insignificant457

Mature 90.9K | Kanej Post-canon, Implied/referenced SA, Implied/referenced sex In Progress

Inej brings one Bastard of the Barrel to the caravans for a family wedding. Hijinks ensue.

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Please support our authors by commenting and leaving kudos on any stories of theirs you read and enjoy! Don't forget to also reblog this post and check back soon for our next author spotlight to come.

Interested in joining our server and getting to know our community? Feel free to request an invite via the @i-can-read-to-him ask box.

#starwritebrekker #kanej #wesper #shadow and bone #six of crows #wesper fic club #author spotlight #wfc author spotlight #fanfiction #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #wylan van eck #jesper fahey #jordie rietveld

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