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rosy-cheekx · 4 years ago

Note

for the kiss prompts... 16 with jonmartin?

Combined this New Years Kiss prompt with @ombreblossom‘s prompt for “a giggly kiss" and an anon prompt: “I wish you would write a fic where martin scoops Jon into his arms and Jon realizes how strong he is” damn if i dont deliver

Just a good vibes fic while I’m dying over the pre-finals stress. Check on your friendly neighborhood psychology students, especially juniors. They’re a-struggling.

Enjoy!!

Resolutions, 2.2k

CW: alcohol

“Happy New Year’s Eve!”

Jon wasn’t sure what he expected of Tim’s house. Maybe something haphazardly designed, with takeaway menus pinned to the fridge? Maybe the epitome of the bachelor pad?

He definitely hadn’t expected the open floorplan, spotlessly cleaned and well-organized, with furniture complementary to the walls and each other. Warm light spilled from every lamp, with purple and silver decorations inscribed with “2015” and “Happy New Years” dangling from almost every surface.

“You can close your mouth now, buddy,” Tim elbowed him lightly. “I keep my spaces clean, what can I say?”

Jon clamped his teeth back together and held out a bottle of white wine mechanically. “I brought this. Er, sorry I’m late.”

Tim shook his head jovially, taking Jon’s coat and scarf along with the wine, before handing the bottle back to him. “Party’s just getting started. We’ve been drinking a bit, playing some games.” He winked before nudging him toward the couches, where Sasha’s dark curls were just visible. “Go on, I’ll be right behind. They’ll be happy to see you!”

“Jon!” The man in question jumped and craned his neck to see Martin—or, more rightly, his hand—from over the edge of the couch cushions. “Good, you’re here! Sash and Tim are kicking my ass in Scrabble.”

Jon approached the living room, spying Martin, sitting on the floor in front of a coffee table, another bottle of white wine between him and Sasha, along with the aforementioned Scrabble board. “Scrabble isn’t a team sport?”

“Hey, Jon. Ooh, more wine, thank god, this one’s just gone.” Sasha scrunched her nose with her greeting, reaching for the bottle in his hands. “And no, it’s not,” she continued as she spun a corkscrew between her fingers. “But Tim is missing like half the tiles so we can’t play four.”

“Tim’n’Sash ganged up on me,” Martin mumbled, the edges of his words softened, Jon assumed, by wine. “I didn’t even—I’m new to research, issnot fair.”

Sasha pulled the cork from the wine as Tim leapt over the cushion of the suede couch, landing neatly next to her. “I told you, you would get Jon when he showed up, which evens it out anyways. Stop pouting.”

“Am not.”

Jon folded his legs beneath his hips as he sat, examining the board and taking a proffered glass from Sasha’s hands. “Don’t worry, Martin,” he offered, smiling gently at the man, taking in the flush of his face and the rolled sleeves of his dress shirt—maroon, he filed away. Looks good with his hair. “We’ve just got to last long enough before Tim gets drunk or bored and starts to throw letters at us. Did he tell you that’s why they’re missing?”

Martin laughed aloud and the noise caught Jon off guard. It was a low, warm sound, loud in a way that suited the man. Jon smiled to himself, proud.

“I do-I do not,” spluttered Tim, pointedly ignoring Sasha’s raised eyebrow. “…I stopped that when we were down to one W.”

Jon nudged Martin, gesturing for the block of letters in front of him. “You’ll see. Our turn?”

Eight rounds, three glasses of wine, and a dodge from the letter E later, Jon was feeling properly comfortable. They were all properly buzzed, if not a little tipsy, and the clock ticked steadily closer to midnight. Martin and Jon had continued to be partners for all the other games they played: Charades, Pictionary, and a silly game Sasha had made up where they had to describe concepts like colors or sounds, without using words directly related to them. Martin had carried their team for that game, explaining through an embarrassed blush that he liked to read a lot of poetry. Jon elected to ignore that statement, though he was grateful for the edge it gave them; his competitive streak was willing to ignore a multitude of sins.

At 11:15, Tim flipped through the television programs, searching for one doing a proper countdown. One of the BBC Music channels was playing a Countdown playlist, with an eclectic variety of music on the playlist if the presented queue was any indication. Remote in hand, Tim spun on his heel, lip-syncing voraciously to the song, some dreadfully cheesy rock ballad. In turn, he focused on Sasha, then Jon, then Martin, hand outstretched to each of them in a mockery of longing. When he turned his attention back to Sasha, the chorus swelled and she took his hand, swinging herself under his arm with a grin on her face. Jon settled into the couch cushions, a warmth running through his chest as he watched the two spin with each other in a pseudo-dance. Martin sipped his glass of water on the other end of the couch, seemingly as happy as Jon to just watch.

As the song ended, the rock ballad was replaced by a pop song, one Jon didn’t know but it was apparent everyone else did. Tim sang along in a horrendous shout-sing, and Sasha grabbed Martin’s hand, tugging on it lightly. Martin rolled his eyes, resisting briefly as Sasha wordlessly argued with him, but her will was stronger and he laughed softly as she pulled him to his feet and jumped around to the beat, air-guitaring in circles around him. Eventually, Martin closed his eyes and leant into the dance, reminding Jon vaguely of his club days with Georgie, the dozens of hot, sweaty young adults without a care in the world of who saw them dance. And, most importantly, dance badly. Martin was truly terrible, but Jon was unable to tear his gaze away. He wasn’t matching the tempo and he knew about half the words as he joined Tim in singing the chorus, but there was something about him that was absolutely intoxicating, more than the wine Jon had consumed.

The Beatles played next, and of course Jon knew them. They had been his grandmother’s favorite, and for good reason. He hadn’t even realized he was singing under his breath to Come Together until Tim’s TV remote was shoved under his lips unceremoniously. Without thinking, he accepted the faux-microphone and joined the trio, standing from the couch to the coffee table in socked feet. As he sang, voice growing in intensity, he swung his arms wide, the images of clubs and dancers and stages at the forefront of his mind.

When the song ended, Jon was breathless, and the smattered applause from his friends brought him out of his reverie. He blushed, suddenly acutely aware of the blood rushing through his body and the heart that was pumping it. he handed the remote to Tim and moved to step off the table, chewing on his lip as he did so. Before he could make the awkward step to the floor below, he yelped as he was suddenly swept off balance. The spinning of his mind, thanks to the alcohol, confused him briefly before he realized he hadn’t fallen and was actually being clutched in a pair of strong arms, bridal-style. Martin’s arms, to be precise. His brow was furrowed in concentration, though he held Jon like he weighed almost nothing.

“Ah, you said you didn’t want to fall.” Martin shrugged and bounced Jon in his arms slightly as if that explained everything.

He had? “Mmm-thank you Mar’n,” Jon murmured, eyes unsure where to land and deciding on a loose curl that hung over Martin’s forehead. He wanted to pull it, Jon realized, and he did so, gently, giving the coil a tug, and giggled to himself as it sprang back in place. Martin was a lot stronger than Jon gave him credit for, and warmer too, though that may have been the alcohol. It was nice, being held like that, and Jon felt himself nestle towards the heat of Martin’s barreled chest without thinking about it.

Tim and Sasha, to Jon’s relief, hadn’t seemed to notice, deep in conversation. Martin deposited Jon safely on the couch and slumped next to him, unbuttoning his collar a little more and turning his attention quite intently to his phone.

The music carried on, and Jon was pulled into a few more dances with Sasha and Tim but felt himself gravitating towards Martin as the hour pursued, making excuses to scoot closer on the couch. A few videos of kittens later, he was properly next to him, watching Tim and Sasha tango to Britney Spears and the clock that ticked steadily towards midnight.

As 11:50 hit, Tim lowered the volume and flopped next to Jon, sweat beading on his forehead. “Alright, mates, resolutions for 2015, go.” He popped a grape from the platter that rested on the chair nearby. “Mine’s to get outside more, I haven’t been able to get out of London much. Maybe go backpacking, see the world.”

Sasha shrugged and perched on the armrest of the couch, feet resting on the cushion next to Tim. “Patience, I think. Listening to people better.”

Jon surprised himself by speaking. “Work-life balance,” he mumbled, dragging his eyes from the coffee table to meet Tim’s curious expression. “It’s not like Elias cares much what the researchers do.”

“Hell yeah, mate!” Tim clapped him on the back. “Maybe you’ll finally come dancing with me. You’ve clearly got the skills.” He turned his attention to the final member of their party. “Marto? What about you?”

Martin shrugged, lips pursed in thought. “Mm, be more honest with people, I think.”

Tim nodded excitedly. “Oh yes, I would love to see Martin Blackwood, The Director’s Cut.”

The ginger shrugged. “I don’t think you’re missing much, honestly, just maybe a little more negativity, a little more feeling.”

“Regardless,” Tim waved the thought away. “Can’t wait to see it.” He cast his eyes to the ceiling and crossed his arms under his chest. “What do you think the illustrious Elias Bouchard does on holiday? I swear that man lives and breathes Magnus Institute.”

Sasha grinned. “Bet he wears nothing but a silk robe, with the Magnus owl embroidered on the chest, skulking around the house and drinking scotch, grumbling about budgets and paranormal stories.”

“Bet he has a cat he strokes menacingly while watching the stock market,” Martin added, sighing. “We can agree he’s a total Tory, right?”

“Oh, for sure,” came a chorus of affirmation.

The group sat in comfortable silence as an upbeat love song played on the television. Jon’s eyes were starting to feel heavy, like how they felt when he got them dilated at the optometrist. Midnight couldn’t come soon enough.

“Hey, guys?” The voice from his right was quiet, hesitant. Martin’s eyes were glassy, phone abandoned on his lap. “I’m really happy to be here, with you all.”

“Martin!” Sasha and Tim cooed happily, rushing to coat his words in affirmations and gentle kindness, sweet gifts with which to end the year. Jon opted for a quieter approach, not the verbally affectionate kind of man, placing a hand over Martin’s gently, squeezing his wrist once. He wasn’t even sure if Martin noticed it—he didn’t move his hand before Tim was shouting, hauling them up as 11:59 flashed on the screen and a countdown began to shout its way from 59 on the screen.

“Come on!” Tim crowed. “My mum always said you can’t stand still when midnight hits, or it’s bad luck. Something about starting the year moving.” Tim led them all in a sort of march, stomping forward and back, spinning in circles, and swinging each of his friends under his arms, though Martin had to duck rather considerably. All four of the research staff members were laughing through their words as they tried to add their discordant shouting to the last few numbers on the TV.

“Three! Two! One! Happy New Year!” Tim grabbed Sasha around her waist and dipped her low as he kissed her, both grinning into the kiss. Jon chuckled and shook his head at the pair, before feeling the hand that was still on his tug gently.

“I-I said I wanted to be more honest,” Martin murmured, voice low in his throat. Jon nodded wordlessly, indicating for him to go on. His words seemed caught somehow.

“If I’m honest,” Martin continued, eyes flitting over Jon’s face before landing back on his eyes. “I really want to kiss you.”

Jon giggled, actually giggled at Martin’s words, the boldness of the wine piloting his voice for a moment. “What are you waiting for?”

So Martin did, one hand on Jon’s waist and one tangled in the hair behind his ears, pressing Jon close and up towards his lips. It was a warm kiss, soft and gentle, and Jon’s head was spinning, not from the buzz or the dancing but from the four points of contact he had with MartinMartinMartin Blackwood is kissing me and Martin’s hand is on my waist and my hand is on Martin’s cheek and his skin is so soft I think I could kiss him forever. Screw 2015; I’ll come back for 2016 and just kiss Martin for a year—

Martin pulled away, smiling down at Jon with a look of utter adoration. “Happy New Year,” he breathed. “Here’s to 2015.”

“H-Happy New Year,” Jon returned, ducking his head shyly at the gaze Martin was casting on him. “Let’s hope it’s a good one.”

#tma #tma fanfic #jmart #timsasha #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #sasha james #tim stoker #jonmartin #the magnus archives #the magnus archives fanfic #fanfic to a tea #cw alcohol #new years eve #new years eve party

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ofdreamsanddoodles · 4 years ago

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i feel like some people don’t recognize how much isolation plays into the fate’s of gertrude’s assistants, especially her manipulation of gerry & leitner. like, the obvious ones is just if sarah or fiona had someone else to watch their back, they might not’ve have fallen victim to the avatars that killed/trapped them, but if michael felt like he could depend on literally anyone other than gertrude and emma, he probably wouldn’t of had the kind of single-minded loyalty that led him to stopping the spiral’s ritual. it’s only because he’d spent decades placing gertrude and emma’s interpretations of events above his own that she was able to convince him to move forward when the distortion’s ritual was actively breaking his mind. if he had anyone encourage him to trust his own thoughts, he would have tried pushing back, or arguing when gertrude asked him to destroy himself for her. but because the archives had convinced him so thoroughly that all he should do was whatever gertrude thought was right, that’s what he did.

anyways. with that out of the way. let’s talk about the 5D chess gertrude was playing with gerry and leitner and how she used gerry’s hatred of leitner & leitners fear of repercussions to stop them from asking questions

it’s not that much of a reach to assume that they both probably felt they owed gertrude. leitner for letting him hide out in her archives, and gerry for killing his mom. at the end of the day, even if they wanted to go against her, it’d feel like a slap in the face to the “hospitality” she was showing them. even if gertrude had known about gerry for years and had only killed mary now that she was lacking assistants, even if she reminded him of his mom, she was still someone who promised him freedom and gave him purpose when he didn’t have one. (note: this is not a good thing. but gerry had mainly been destroying leitner’s to stop his mom from getting them, which means he has less of a reason to continue now that she’s dead) also, we have no idea how long leitner’s been in those tunnels (please correct me if he mentions it at some point) which means he could have gone over a decade with no one but her to talk to. if gertrude’s behavior is a red flag, it’s unlikely either of them would have really noticed what for, because they just... aren’t around a lot of people. i’m sure they both knew that she was using them, because this is gertrude, but that didn’t mean they felt her behavior was bad enough to warrant leaving.

and if either of them knew the other was working with gertrude, that would change in an instant. if leitner thinks gerry hurt him because gerry was a random person with a vendetta against him, he’s more likely to stay in the tunnels because it’s a safe place literally no one knows about, meaning he’ll be there to help when gertrude tries to burn down the institute, and be a source of information for the next archivist if they fail. it means she can continue to press him for details about the different leitner’s he’s used in order for her (and gerry) to see if anyone’s found them and then use that to their advantage. and, because some random 30 y/o just started beating him up out of the blue, leitner’s not going to be thinking about gertrudes actions because he’ll be too busy worrying if that goth he met is going to come back and kill him. which means that if he finds out gerry was only in the archives because gertrude invited him, leitner’s not going to stay. gerry hates him, and he knows where he lives. that means both gertrude & the tunnels are unsafe, so he needs to find somewhere else to live

and gerry’s the same way! in his statement, he admits to jon he was too distracted thinking about revenge on leitner to really question gertrude, which meant she could convince gerry to strengthen his relationship to the eye without him realizing that all this is just insurance to ensure he’s strong enough to stop the unknowing for her. (or, you know, she could trap him in the skinbook once again providing a resource for the future archivist where elias wouldn’t be watching.) gerry says he noticed that gertrude had a “weird look in her eye” when she talked about the two of them going back to london together, but doesn’t say much about it other than “gertrude doesn’t tell jokes.” yes, she’s doing things that are suspicious, but he has cancer, and there’s other things on his mind. it’s easy for him to brush off any weirdness as something to deal with for later, but it’s unlikely he would have gone to america in the first place if he knew gertrude was working with jurgen fucking leitner.

but if leitner and gerry did realize they were both working for gertrude and actually like, talked about it, they’d learn gertrude wanted to use them for completely different reasons. gerry was told that gertrude had a plan for the dark. as far as we know, leitner was that plan. elias assumes that gertrude had a back-up in case the ritual did work, but even if she didn’t, it gives gerry one very important question: why the hell should he be spending so much time saving the world from a ritual that might not even work? sure, he might still have gone with gertrude if he knew she was suspicious about the rituals being doomed to fail, but i’m guessing that after a point of dealing with his increasingly poor health, he’s going to say “fuck it, this doesn’t matter, i’m going to go to a doctor.” the tragedy of tma is that there’s a hundred ways i could think of to save gerry, and every character mentioned, but none of that could happen in canon because they all require other people

in his statement, eric accuses gertrude of keeping him in the dark to make sure he doesn’t stop being useful, and that’s a fate he mostly avoids thanks to his proximity to mary. even though he dies, eric gets out of the archives because he has someone to validate his experience of how fucking weird everything is, which is probably one of the things that convinces him to quit. i could write so much about why eric choses to stay with mary, but the reality is, he doesn’t have another option. no one who comes to the archives has anyone they can count on, which is why they’re constantly forced to make the choice between the lesser of two evils--like his choice between gertrude or mary. eric wants to choose gerry, and it a better world, he would have, but spending so long immersed in archive-typical entity drama, his only option is to choose the one he thinks can offer him (and gerry!) the best protection.

from what we’ve seen of the interactions between them, gertrude’s brushed aside leitner’s concerns with using one of his books despite the fact it was giving him like, actually harming him, yells at gerry for forgetting something (which, you know, is a symptom of both brain cancer and abuse) immediately following that up with the abuser tactic of “i’m doing this because i care,” then mocks him for asking about passageways in the institute when she knows the tunnels exist. and despite all that, they still stay with her because she’s the closest thing they have to safety. no matter how intentional it was, gertrude spent her time as archivist constantly surrounding herself with people who had no choice but to depend on her, something that almost always led to their doom

#the magnus archives #tma #tma meta #jurgen leitner #gerry keay #gerard keay #gerry delano #i have been thinking about this. for so long #which you can tell bc ive been working on this post on & off for like. two hours #jesus #time to eat dinner i guess #adventures of angel

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theood · 2 years ago

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EVOLUTION STORY UPD8

YAAYAYAYAYAYYAHA JUMPS FOR JOY KICKS MY FEET YIPS AND BARKS IM SO FUCKING EXCITED. TONS OF PRISONERS HONEY???? ANYTHING FOR THE NATURALIST!!!! WHEEEEEE

#elias plays fallen London #fallen london #fallen london spoilers

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theheartsmistakes · 4 years ago

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The Last Night Part XXXII

(A/N at the end)

The Parabatai rune on the center of Lucie’s back sent a course of happiness through her as Cordelia and James kissed for the first time as husband and wife underneath the cherry wood harbor adorned with delicate white daisies.

It’d been six months since the battle on the bridge. Six months since everyone she loved found out about the power that lurked within her. Six months to help rebuild a demolished part of London that the mundanes claimed to be a terrorist attack and were still investigating which country it might have been. They’d soon forget all about it though, as soon as the roads were repaved and the debris washed from the streets by the rains. Mundanes were so easily distracted.

The looks from other families hadn’t stopped in those six months, however. When Lucie would be out walking with Cordelia or her mother when she’d catch a glance from some busybody that would end in them scuffling away whispering underneath their breath. Tessa would go on as if she hadn’t noticed anything, but there had been a few times when Lucie had to distract Cordelia from shoving the notorious gossips into the park fountain.

It didn’t bother her as much as she'd expected it to. She heeded her brother’s wise advice and “just ignored them” on most days. When someone was brave enough to whisper an insult behind her back, she may or may not have asked a wandering ghost to tie their shoelaces together or perhaps undo their suspenders so their trousers slipped to the ground. Even though she was under she’d strict orders never to conjuring the dead.

“The dead have fought and earned their peace,” said Charles as soon as he was well enough to hold a Consul meeting. He'd suffered a grave injuring during the battle on the bridge-- though not grave enough. “I’m sure they don’t appreciate you disrupting them.”

During the entire meeting not once did he meet Lucie’s eyes or even glance at her. He spoke to her parents as if they held more control over her power than she did. She knew there would be those that feared her, but she’d decided not to bother with them or their opinions.

Not when the ones that mattered the most had welcomed her with open arms.

Not once did her parents hesitate to hug her, hold her, or speak openly about what she’d been able to do since she was a child.

“I knew it,” said Will, kissing her forehead. “I told your mother when you were still in her womb that you were going to be special.”

“You said she’d be able to recite Tennyson by the time she was three,” said Tessa, her arm wrapped tightly around Lucie’s shoulders.

“I could speak to Tennyson if you’d like,” grinned Lucie.

They all grinned with her and for the first time, she wondered why she never told them to begin with.

And they never asked. Perhaps there was an understanding amongst them or perhaps they were all just happy to have escaped Belial without a member missing that they didn’t bother with such trivial things as what was or was not said in the past. It didn’t matter why she never told them— they knew now and they loved her still.

Both James and Cordelia wanted a short engagement and nothing too grand or spectacular, to the chagrin of Sona. Tessa tried not to share her opinion on the matter, but Lucie could tell her mother secretly wanted an elaborate wedding and made Lucie promise that when her time came that she’d at least have some sort of grand party.

Lucie assured her that she would. There wouldn’t be a family in this realm or the next that didn’t know about the elaborate event.

Helping Cordelia with her plans and watching her quiet, secretive interactions with her brother often made her think of Jesse. He left for Alicante with Grace to settle a few familial affairs and similar to their acceptance of Lucie’s abilities, the Consul wasn’t so sure about how to feel about Jesse being resurrected and thought it best to reintroduce him into their society, slowly.

She hadn’t had even a moment alone with him, to see if whatever existed between the two of them still existed now. She hadn’t realized how much she’d come to rely on her talks with him until she could no longer communicate with him whenever she pleased. She’d written several letters to him. Seventy-two to be exact, and they were all tucked into a hidden compartment in her desk.

Letters that spilled her unaltered, unreserved, erratic thoughts; confessions she could never and possibly would never say aloud.

The last letter she wrote was a week ago and after careful contemplation and exhausting her feeling in the other letters, she found herself brave enough to put it in with the post to be sent to where Jesse was staying.

She knew there was a fraction of a chance that he would write her back, but at least there wouldn’t be any more wondering afterward. She’d finally be able to close that chapter— his chapter and move on.

From the entrance steps to the Institute, she watched the guests find their seats. Her eyes shifting amongst their familiar faces, secretly hoping that he would appear amongst them. When he never did, she refused to let herself be disappointed and distracted herself by organizing the bouquet of long-stemmed white daisies, weaving in sprigs of evergreen and silver heart-shaped eucalyptus.

The hustle of servants and groomsmen went past her in a blur. She’d had to help Thomas and Christopher with their ties earning her a kiss on the cheek by both men. They both smelt of whiskey and the gleam in their eyes told her all she needed to know about what went on in their dressing room earlier this afternoon.

When Cordelia emerged from where she was being primed and prepped, Lucie was waiting by the stairs— the only bridesmaid that Cordelia chose-- and beamed at her best friend and Parabatai’s beauty. Beside Lucie at the end of the stairs, stood Alastair. Silver already rimming his eyes at the sight of his sister.

Her vibrant red hair was elegantly pinned back in a braid that crowned her head with daisies interwoven throughout. Around her face hung only loose curls. Her makeup was subtle: just a hint of blush on her cheeks, a swipe of mascara on each eye, and a soft red on her full, heart-shaped lips. The gold of her dress shimmered as she walked down the stairs, the sun bursting through the round window behind her had her glistening in a way that would put the stars to shame. The silk fabric clung to every inch of her curves. The swooped neckline showed off a respectable amount of her chest that swelled with each swollen breath she took.

While she was an absolute vision, it was her smile that had tears springing to Lucie’s eyes. Never, in all of her short life, had she ever seen someone so happy.

“It’s not too late,” she heard Alastair whisper in Cordelia’s ear as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. “I can have a carriage meet us in the back in two seconds.”

Cordelia took his hand in hers. “That would be an awful waste of a perfectly good cake.”

“Well take it with us,” he shrugged.

“It’s four feet tall,” whispered Lucie. “And at least that wide. Bridget has no control when it comes to weddings, I’m afraid. Perhaps only take the top part.”

Alastair nodded at that.

Cordelia nudged Lucie. “Do not encourage him.”

The three of them walked to the closed doors they were to exit out of, walk down the stairs to the aisle, and land at the alter where James waited beside Matthew, Christopher, Thomas, and Will. Charlotte was asked to officiate the service and happily agreed.

When the music started playing, Lucie turned to Cordelia to speak, but she was leaning her head against her brother’s shoulder and she decided not to speak. Alastair’s eyes shimmered again as he looked forward.

Lucie had waited in the other room while Cordelia asked him to be the one to walk her down the aisle instead of their father. While Alastair’s opinion of James had only improved slightly, he agreed. The words exchanged between the two of them, Lucie didn’t know, but when they emerged from the room both of their eyes were rimmed with red and she knew that it was not for her to know or understand.

When she faced forward again, the music began to build and the wooden doors opened to a cool breeze. Lucie, in her periwinkle blue dress, smiled at the crowd that turned to watch her. At the back sat longtime friends. Bridget looked as if she’d started crying hours ago. The Townsend’s, Penhallow’s, Rosewain’s, Ashdown’s, Wentworths, and others all filled the back rows. Including some that Lucie didn’t recognize that might have fallen under Cordelia’s kin. Towards the front rows, Lucie found Henry in his chair beside an arrogant-looking Charles. In front of them sat Anna and Ariadne with her Aunt Cecily and her Uncle Gabriel who looked to be holding back tears. In the same row sat Sophie and Gideon, while she watched Lucie, Gideon watched his wife. When the rumors came out about Gideon and Charlotte, Lucie dismissed it as absolute rubbish because for as long as she could remember, the only person Gideon’s eyes ever softened for was Sophie. He looked at her the way her father often looked at her mother when Tessa wasn’t paying attention. They’d be reading on opposite ends of the couch, but her father’s eyes would wander off the page and watch Tessa.

Lucie often found herself hoping one day someone might look at her the same way.

Her Uncle Jem sat beside Tessa in the front row with Sona and Elias beside her, a bundle wrapped in a gold cloth covered the child nestled against Sona’s chest. Alastair’s and Cordelia’s little brother, the tufts of red hair could just barely be seen. Lucie had only met Elias once when she was young before he disappeared, she remembered him being stern but handsome. Through those years he’d been gone, the stern side seemed to overtake the handsome. His eyes were circled in darkness and he lacked color and shape in his face. Lucie wondered if that was perhaps why Cordelia chose Alastair to walk her instead.

When she reached the alter, James was the picture of a modern gentleman, but he also wore the expression of someone preparing for battle.

She brushed his shoulder with her own as she passed and whispered, “Relax.”

He released a breath he’d been holding and gave her a curt nod.

As she found her place across from James and his groomsmen, she turned to smile out to the crowd. Her heart sank just a little at the face that she did not find there.

The Blackthorns were invited, she knew. Both Jesse and Grace, but never received a card announcing their attendance. Lucie made sure that two spots were reserved for them just in case, but even now as she looked into the crowd those spots remained empty and the last flickering embers of hope that she kept alive for Jesse, evaporated in a puff of smoke.

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The reception was held as such in the ballroom of the Institute. Persian rugs of all manner of color and design covered the floors and the spices and essence of Cordelia’s home and culture filled the room with life. Cordelia danced merrily with James for the fourth time, neither of them willing to let the other go. Only Alastair managed to sneak a dance in with her while Tessa stole James away, but as soon as their dance was over like two ships in the night, Cordelia and James found each other again.

Matthew danced reluctantly with his mother.

Tessa danced with Will.

Alastair danced with his mother while Elias held the babe.

Anna danced with Ariadne, challenging anyone who might dare interject or judge the pairing with the harshest of looks.

Christopher danced with a timid Carolina Belltower, both looked completely out of place and uncomfortable. Lucie was sure Christopher had managed to step on her toes not once but four times in the two minutes of the song.

Thomas was the only other one not dancing and didn’t seem inclined to do so. He stood beside Lucie his eyes locked on Alastair.

In her six months as a social pariah, when she wasn’t helping with wedding plans or writing in her room, she took to observing those around her. Thomas and Alastair had become a favorite of hers, especially when they didn’t think anyone was paying them any mind. The friendship was timid and slow. At first, Lucie thought that they hated each other, but then she began to notice that whenever they all found themselves in a situation together, Thomas and Alastair seemed to gravitate towards each other. She observed with curiosity the subtle change in their relationship from a timid want to something she could only describe as a yearning.

It was there in Thomas's eyes now as he stared at Alastair across the room.

“You should ask him to dance,” said Lucie, nudging him with her elbow.

Thomas raised an eyebrow when he looked down at her. “Here?”

“Why not?”

“A whole manner of reasons why not,” said Thomas and looked down at the glass cup in his hands.

“Are you afraid someone will disapprove?” Lucie sipped from the refreshment in her hands. His silence gave her the answer she already knew. “I do not want to rush you into a decision, but take note from someone who hid a secret about herself from those she loved the most in the world— if they truly love you, and they do— it won’t matter to them. They will love you all the same. Their approval is not worth a lifetime of your unhappiness.”

Thomas slid a hand around her waist and pressed a quick kiss to her head. “Not all of us are as brave as you are.”

Lucie smiled to herself. “I shall lend you some of my bravery then. If you won’t dance with him, then at least go talk to him. You best hurry for the song is ending and if you don’t I might have the good sense to ask him myself.”

“Who will keep you company?”

Lucie looked to her left where Oscar, Matthew’s dog, was lying in wait by her feet for someone to pet him. “I have Oscar. He’s the perfect company. He doesn’t step on my toes, he doesn’t prattle on about dull things. He could stand for a breath mint, but otherwise, he’s the perfect companion.”

Thomas chuckled, then as the song came to a close, he stalked across the room to where Alastair was guiding his mother back to her seat.

Lucie watched as the two talked for a moment, both of them leaning towards each other slightly before they both turned towards the doors leading to the gardens.

Lucie felt a swell of pride at the momentary act of bravery and found herself wishing that the world would change just a bit faster to make room for the amount of love those two would share. And if the world wasn’t willing to change, well then she’d just make sure they had a safe place around her to be themselves— to figure it out.

The next song started a slow, sweet melody that had the partners in the room drawing just a bit closer to one another. Cordelia’s red hair stood out like a beacon in the center of the floor, James pressing his temple against her own as they talked quietly to one another.

Lucie had become so enamored with watching the way her brother’s face light up when Cordelia said something particularly funny that she didn’t notice or feel the presence come beside her.

“Not dancing?”

The smile slipped from her face as she turned to see the familiar dark-haired gentlemen standing beside her. His blue-green eyes shifted to hers for a moment as he leaned down, close enough that his shoulder brushed her own. “I used to enjoy watching you dance. You weren’t as serious as the other girls. You would abandon yourself to the music instead of focusing on the proper steps.”

A warmth rose in her cheeks. “I hadn’t known I had an audience.”

He ignored her jib and continued. “I stood and wondered what it would be like to be one of the gentlemen that had the pleasure of being your partner. I would have filled your card with my name if I could.”

Lucie swallowed the lump climbing up her throat. “What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming.”

“We weren’t.”

“And yet here you are,” she huffed.

“It was a last-minute decision elicited by a rather threatening letter.”

“My letter was hardly threatening.”

“Not your letter.” Jesse’s eyes went to Cordelia who was glaring at him from over James’s shoulder. “Your letter was lovely. Hers gave me nightmares.”

Lucie glared right back at her conniving friend. “I’m so pleased you felt pressured enough to come. If you’ll excuse me, my drink has gotten warm and I no longer want to be here.”

A lie, and also not. She didn’t know how to be there. How to talk to him without there being some physical limitation. She’d let him go. She’d written those letters and let him go. She wasn’t entirely sure she could do it again.

“Lucie��“

She’d already moved into the crowd and was walking towards the refreshment table.

She brushed past Christopher who had switched his brunette partner with a delicate blonde one. It took her a moment to realize it was Grace.

Lucie shouldered past them, set her cup down on the refreshment table, and gathered her skirts to rush out into the hall.

Some tried to stop her along the way to tell her how beautiful she looked and congratulate her on her ceremony with Cordelia.

She grinned and mumbled her ‘thank you’ before the servants opened the doors for her to exit through. Once out in the hall, cut off from the music, noise, and smell of the party, she was able to breathe. She was almost to the end of the hall when the noise filled the space again.

“Lucie!” Jesse’s footsteps came after her. “Please wait. I didn’t mean—“

She’d turned the corner and hurried towards the staircase.

“Stubborn child,” she heard him mumble behind her. She was near to the ground floor when he said. “Damn this physical form, if I were still a ghost—“

“But you are not anymore,” said Lucie, turning to face him as he slowed on the last few steps. A dark strand of hair had come loose and fell in his face. He’d let it grow since she last saw him, the tips grazed his shoulders, pieces curled around his cheekbones. He was beautiful, heartbreaking, ache in her gut, tongue numbingly beautiful. “You’re alive and can go and do as you please. I am not longer the only company that you can have and it was clear that you never wanted. If you have anything more to say, write me a letter.”

She turned to walk away again but a hand closed around her arm. “You’re the only company that I want.” He loosed a breath and drew his hand away, running it back through his hair. “Damn it, Lucie, even now in life, I have no control when I’m around you. Can’t you see, you’re the only person I want to talk to. Still the only person that sees me.”

“I thought that—“ she swallowed and stared at the crookedness of his tie. “You said that—“

“I didn’t mean what I said,” said Jesse before she could finish. “I said those things because I was trying to keep you from going to the Lightwood house where Belial was lying in wait. I was trying to protect you.”

“Why didn’t you say that?”

“Because I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” His dark eyebrows drew together in a pain-stricken expression. “I knew you’d think I was lying to keep you from trying to resurrect me and that’d you go anyway. I had to tell you something that you would believe… even if it broke your heart. Even if it broke my long-dead heart. I thought when you sent me away, locked me away that it’d worked, but then you bloody went anyway.”

“I went to tell Grace that I wanted to end our arrangement,” she said quietly. “As desperately as I wanted to bring you back, I wouldn’t have done it unless you wanted me to.”

“I’m an idiot,” he gasped. “I should have explicitly told you that Belial was there.”

“I wouldn’t have believed you,” said Lucie, with a small smile. “And if I had, I would have gone anyway if only to try to stop him. What happened was inevitable. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Regardless, I’ll punish myself for the rest of my life for it.” Jesse dared a step towards her. “Lucie, I have missed you.”

Tears prickled her eyes at the gentle way he spoke the words, yet she couldn’t holster the doubt that crept into her mind. “Why did you leave?”

“Guilt, shame, fear, of what the Clave would do to me, to Grace, because of our mother.” His hands tightened into fists at his sides. “Charles came to me after I’d been examined by the Silent Brothers and told me that I was to return to Alicante, immediately. He said I couldn’t be trusted and that I was to be placed under observation until further notice and when I inquired about you, he just gave me a grave look and would tell me nothing more.

“Everyone I spoke to gave me the same response. I thought you were dead. I thought Belial won. When I learned that he was defeated, I waited to hear from you, but when nothing came I thought maybe you were done. I thought maybe I'd lost you. I didn’t know what else to do so I left. I lost myself a little bit or rather I struggled with finding myself in this living world again. I think that I didn’t want it… not without you. It wasn’t until your letter arrived that I realized even if you had moved on, I hadn't. It took me weeks to gain clearance to come back here. The laws I had to break to be here.”

“You broke laws?”

He shrugged. “They’re bad laws anyway.”

A smile tugged on Lucie’s lips.

He braved another step. Inching just a bit closer.

Lucie took a shuttered breath. “I missed you too, Jesse Blackthorn. So much.”

It was the last bit of reassurance he needed as he moved forward, bending at the knees to wrap his arms around her waist and lift her against him. She wound her own around his shoulders, pressing her forehead against his own. He was real. Every inch of him, real. She ripped off her gloves and tossed them aside so she could feel him underneath her palms. The hardened plains of his back, his shoulders, his arms, his chest, until her fingertips grazed his jaw.

His breath hitched as if he were as starved for touch as she was.

He seemed to be content to do the same. As he slowly lowered her back onto her feet, his hands brushed the bare skin where her dress dipped just below her shoulder blades and continued to roam down her waist.

“Lucie,” his breath brushed against her lips.

Her mouth had gone dry. “Yes.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to feel you, touch you, hold you in my own hands,” he swallowed and his fingers brushed along her arms. “I’m half out of my mind right now with want of kissing you.”

“Why aren’t you then?”

He chuckled. “A nice girl like you found kissing a once dead man like me. The scandal.”

Lucie rose onto her toes. “I guess it’s a very good thing then that I’m already ruined.”

She tilted her head and met his lips with her own.

For the first time in Lucie’s life, she didn’t care about what people thought or the going on’s of the world around her. She let the intoxication of happiness overcome her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Her friend, the boy in the woods, the ghost who’d given up everything to save her brother, who’d given up everything to save her, was all that mattered in the moment. She couldn’t believe, hated the thought, that she was moments away from losing him.

But like that day in the wood so long ago, he found her… somehow he always did.

A/N: Wow, we DID it! I cannot believe it’s almost been a year since I started this project and what a year it has been. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much if you read one part, six parts, fifteen parts, the whole thing, or if you’re just joining us. Thank you for your comments, your reblog, your likes, for your collaboration and encouragement. I have LOVED this challenge. I never had the bravery to do it before and while The Last Night was supposed to be a one-shot, I had so much fun expanding on it and playing around with some predictions. I hope you guys are satisfied with this ending. I know it ended with some Jucie* (I’m not even sorry) but I hope the Jordelia storyline was satisfying. I’ve learn so much from you guys and while there are about a million things I would like to change, mistakes I’d like to fix, or moments I want to expand on, I’m quite happy with the way this story turned out. Thank you again!

#The Last Night #the last hours #the last night fanfiction #chain of gold #Chain of Iron #cassandra clare #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucie x Jesse #lucie herondale #jesse blackthorn #thomas x alastair #alastair carstairs #thomas lightwood #thomastair #shadowhunters #the shadowhunter chronicles

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the-dye-stained-socialite · 1 year ago

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elias was originally a standalone character as well, meant to partner with harper!! they were also originally a very very recently turned vampire, who was still adjusting to all that entailed!! of course, when @the-insouciant-scientist ported harper over to fallen london, elias joined them!!! nowadays they very much Do Not resemble the original, and have developed a whole lot! their original ambition ending was going to be Power, which is now reflected in the nightmare version: Mr. Stains.

pennitha dreadful was originally based off of a different character of nearly the same name from a different game i play, but she quickly turned into someone else! lot sadder too!!! still has some minor allergies though...

the rest of my OCs were created specifically for the fallen london universe!!

Out of curiosity, were your OCs made specifically with Fallen London in mind, or were they other existing OCs that you changed to fit the setting?

#oc talk #elias leroux #pennitha dreadful

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

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Island Dreams - Chapter 10

Hello everyone! Chapter 10 is finally here and is a good 5k words. I hope you will enjoy. we finally get to know a bit more about Rowan and Lyria and yes, we get to meet her... have your rotten veggies at the ready.

Things are still a slow burn but our lovely are taking one step at a time... they have still too much to deal with. But we almost there. I promise.

Happy reading!

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A couple of days had elapsed and Aelin was on her way to the bookshop with a box in her hands and a smug grin. Once inside the she noticed it was empty. “Rowan?” She called but no reply came. Where the heck was he? “Rowan?” She shouted louder “The shop is open and there is no one around.” With a thus, she dumped the box on the desk and the backpack behind it and went looking for him and found him five minutes later in the back of the shop, deep in conversation with the delivery man. He noticed her arrival and turned “What?” He asked at her annoyed expression. “The shop is unmanned.” Aelin explained, pointing at it with her extended arm. “It was just for five minutes.” Was his excuse. She stormed away and went back to the front of the shop getting ready for another day. Quietly she walked around the shop and took great care in fixing some of the display that looked a bit sad, then she took note of what needed replenishing and restocked some of the most popular titles. They had a few busy days and hoped for a repeat because she was enjoying herself immensely.

“I am back.” Rowan had finally reappeared. “We have been quite busy yesterday, I was just replenishing some shelves.” With a big grin painted on his face he took her hand and dragged Aelin to her history display showing her that her book was now sold out thanks to her display. “I won the bet?” She jumped in excitement, clapping her hands in front of her. “You definitely did and I have to treat you to a massive lunch.” “Told you.” She folded her arms and he smiled back. “I admit my defeat.” Rowan’s hands went up in a yielding gesture. “Good, because I have a present for you.” She walked to the counter and grabbed the box for him while he joined her at her side with a curious expression painted on his face. “Open.” Aelin gave him the box. Rowan opened the box and froze when he noticed it contained a mobile phone. “I don’t understand.” He looked at her. “It’s for you.” Slowly he opened the box and took the mobile phone out “Aelin, this is an expensive gift. I would have bought one if it really meant a lot to you.” Aelin shook her head “No, this is a present from me.” Then searched his eyes “And there might be a little bit of a selfish reason in it.” His expression was puzzled. “The night of the storm, I woke up and I was terrified I wanted to call you and realised I couldn’t. Sometimes I am reading a book and I want to share my reactions with you in the moment and I can’t.” Rowan held the mobile in his hands not sure what to do with it, but Aelin went in his help. She began showing him all the buttons, then switched it on and set it up for him. “Enter you code.” Rowan looked at her, again as if she was speaking a secret language he did not know. “It’s a four digits code that you use to access the phone. You can also set up your fingerprint recognition, but we can do that later.” “When is your birthday?” He asked with curiosity. “September 15th.” “So, 1509 it is” Aelin laughed and entered the code for him. After that she spent half an hour going through all the functions of the basic apps and how to download more. Then she went to the contact list and added her phone humber. “This is my number. Now you can call me and text me whenever you want.” She turned to him and his smile had her toes curl. A moment later she was beside him and pulled him closer and instructed him to put his arms around her neck. Rowan complied and in addition placed a kiss on her temple and in that moment Aelin took a picture of them. That picture became Rowan’s home screen “Perfect,” she muttered, pleased by her job then she turned and gave the phone to him. “You are all set up. You will have to select a ringtone.” “I need to decide which song. Can I add any song I want?” Aelin nodded “Once you have chosen, let me know and I will do it for you.” Rowan played a bit with the piece of technology in his hands that still felt alien to him. “I also have another idea.” She said timidly “Facebook and Instagram,” and again Rowan’s face was one big puzzle and she thought there was something incredibly fascinating in the fact that he didn’t have a mobile until half an hour before and had no clue about the whole world of social media. He was a rare human being. “They are platforms where people share things. Facebook you share things about you and Instagram is for photos.” Rowan flinched. He was not keen on sharing his life on the internet. “But not for you. I have a feeling you would not like that. I was thinking about the bookshop.” She explained “We can create a Facebook page for the shop, on there you can share book recommendations, you can write reviews and talk about new books you get in. You can promote the shop. Instagram you can use it to share photos of the shop and also promote books.” She continued and saw interest dawn on his features “You can advertise your shop on the visit Outer Hebrides website, so if you have tourist browsing for things in Stornoway you will appear in the list.” Rowan was staring at her in amazement “I love the idea very much.” Aelin smiled and launched herself to his computer “Good, now go and deal withe the customers while I work my magic.” “As you wish…”

When Rowan came back from dealing with the customers he noticed that Aelin was very busy at work on his computer. “You know that I will need that soon?” “Paperwork can wait.” She replied not even lifting her head to look at him and Rowan used the moment to admire her a bit more. Everyday since they had started talking, she had surprised him. In every possible way. And now she had gone and transformed into his marketing agent “Why do you care so much?” He was curious. This was not her business but she seemed to have decided to help him in every possible way. “Because independent bookshops are something precious. You are the only one on the entire island. Or at least the only one this big.” Rowan smiled at her and her eyes seemed to turn even more blue. “Speaking of which… orders… You know you could have someone create a website for you and people could place orders online?” Rowan cringed a bit. He was so old fashioned it was pitiful “I don’t know…” his hand scratched the back of his neck. “Ro,” she said, coming away from behind the counter and stopping in front of him. He realised that he actually liked when she called him Ro. “Think about it. You could extend your business from Lewis all the way down to Barra. Other islanders could buy your books online and you’d post them. Of course the postage is at their expenses, but even large bookstore chains do that.” He could kiss her. She was brilliant and he could just kiss her. “I have a friend in London who can help you with the website. You can speak of the phone, he can send you ideas via email…” he noticed she stopped. “Please tell me you have an email.” Rowan rolled his eyes “I might not be evolved enough to have a mobile phone, but I do have an email address and I can use the internet and I buy things online. I am not that much of an underdeveloped oaf.” And he noticed that Aelin began laughing and her laughter was music to his ears. “Sure. Now stop talking. You got customers.” “Yes, ma’am.” and he flashed her a military salute. Once he was done he walked behind her and stared at what she was doing at the pc. “This is you Facebook page.’ And she showed him what to do. How to create posts and update pictures. “So, do I just… talk about books?” Aelin nodded and Rowan took a step closer to her. His chest was not hard against her back. He thought for a moment she would react badly but she surprised him when he felt her leaning into him. His right hand clenched and unclenched at his side resisting the urge to run his hand against her arm, to tuck her rebel strand of hair behind her ear. He restrained himself and just leaned his chin on her head and chuckled. “What? Making fun that I am shorter than you?” “No.” He chuckled again “Just loving that you are the perfect size to fit under my chin. Sooo comfy.” Aelin turned and slapped him gently on his shoulder “Stop mocking my less developed height. Not everyone can be a giant.” “Yes, Fireheart.” And he placed a kiss on the top of her head. “What did you call me?” “Fireheart, you know, like the Queen from Cursed Kingdom.” Aelin looked at him with an expression that he could not decipher. “You remind me a lot of her.” “Because I am hot like her?” Rowan did not reply “You have fire in you. Like her. You are both these amazing women, strong-willed and intelligent…” She was staring at him and he finally removed that lock of hair from her face and his hand lingered a bit longer on her cheek. How could he have fallen so badly for her in such a short time? His head bowed slightly, while his stare was fixed on her lips, imagining how she would taste. She looked up at him, they were so close he could feel her breath. He was about to close the last remnant of space, when someone came into the shop. The two of them jumped apart and Rowan cursed the bad timing. He wanted to kick out the customer and claim the kiss he was robbed of. He stared at her while helping the customer and could not believe that she was leaning into the kiss. She wanted it too. Did it mean she had made her choice? What about Elias? She was still seeing him and could not ignore the sting of thinking of her in the other man’s arms. He was jealous. That was crystal clear. While she was busy he went back to the computer and had a look at her project and he was impressed. She had posted some photos and wrote a lovely blurb about the shop. “What do you think?” She asked, sneaking under his arm so it then was around her shoulder. “I love it.” He said softly. I love you.

A few hours had passed and around lunchtime Aelin had begged Rowan to close and go to Maeve’s to claim her victory meal. Rowan yielded. It had started to slow down a bit so they could afford to close for lunch. “Come on greedy guts. Let’s go and feed you, before you take it out on me.” In response, she gave him a massive toothy grin and grabbed his hand.

By the time they arrived a Maeve’s they were much closer and Rowan had an arm around her shoulder and Aelin was snuggling against him. Her excuse was that she loved his smell and she was trying to cover her clothes in it. “Well, if that’s not a surprise. So I guess you two have finally finished to kill each other.” Said the woman walking them to a table in a corner. “Yeah, I decided that I can keep him alive a bit longer.” “Gee, thanks Fireheart, I am so honoured by your goodwill. I am thy humble servant.” Aelin smiled “Now, stop talking, Buzzard. It’s food time.” She grabbed the menu and began reading. “Buzzard?” Aelin lowered her menu and glared at him “Yeah, when you are mad you have this predatory expression. You look like a bird of prey.” He took the menu from her and hid it behind his back. “Give me my menu.” “The magic word…” “Buzzard…” she stared in his green eyes. “Fireheart…” he returned the menu to her. “I am starving.” And at that Rowan scoffed and Aelin pinched his arm. “What?’ He squealed at the gesture “You are always hungry.” “Now shush.” She told him placing a finger on his mouth. Rowan gave her a few minutes. She was hunched over the menu and her blonde hair had spilled freely in front of her. With his hands he pulled her hair away from her face “How can you read with this wild mane of hair covering your eyes?” Then he pulled all her hair on one side and started braiding it in a nice neat braid and aelin was impressed at his skills. “Hairband?” Aelin removed the hairband from her wrist and Rowan tied her braid. He had lost control. He was aware of that. But he could not stop touching her. He needed the contact with her. After a while Aelin finally made up her mind and placed her order and Rowan did the same, albeit a more normal quantity of food. Once Maeve brought the plates Aelin was ready to dig in as her stomach had started to growl in protest. They were chatting and eating happily when Rowan froze when the door of the cafe opened and noticed who had entered. Aelin recognised the woman as well and under the table Aelin grabbed his hand showing him support. She had noticed his reaction and she wanted him to know she was there for him. Aelin noticed that it was another one of Maeve’s colleagues who served the brunette and not Maeve herself. She had a suspicion that was his aunt’s way to express her displeasure at the woman without being overtly rude. “Rowan.” Said the woman walking toward them and sitting down at the empty chair at their table. Aelin wanted to bite her head off and kick her away for thinking she had the right to sit down with them. In challenge she brought the hand that was on Rowan’s on the table, right in front of the woman’s eyes. It was petty but she did not care. “Lyria…” he finally managed to say something. Lyria looked at Rowan for a second but then her gaze shifted to Aelin and in particular on the had she was holding. His hand. “So, who is your friend, Rowan? Aren’t you going to introduce me to her?” She leaned back on the chair almost in challenge. “I am his girlfriend.” And Aelin put an arm around Rowan’s shoulder and kissed his cheek to prove her point. Rowan in the meantime was stone-faced and silent and she knew she had to fight the woman alone. Well, bring it on. She squeezed his hand almost in apology and her heart ached at his expression. One moment they were having fun, a moment later he looked like a broken man. “What do you want?” He finally managed a sentence but his tone dripped hate. “So you did manage to forget me in the end.” She whispered, but luckily for them the place was quiet “Although I think your tastes have declined a bit.” Aelin was about to punch her. Who was this woman? How could she judge someone she had never met? “I thought you liked women with… more meat.” Lyria grabbed a couple of fries from Aelin’s plate in plain challenge and gave her a smirk that brought rage through her. “I am glad I finally found a real man.” She continued, not caring about the pain she was inflicting on Rowan “One who does not spend his time reading fairytales.” Eventually Lyria stood and went to collect her order, say goodbye to Rowan and leaned toward Aelin “Bye stick.” Aelin jumped up, ready to inflict a beating, but Rowan grabbed her hand. “Leave her.” His tone was strained and that’s all she needed to sit back down and swallow her pride. “She just called me a stick.” Aelin growled “I have curves and boobs.” She sighed and crossed her arms at her chest “What a bitch.” She grabbed one of her fries and dipped it in ketchup “And how dares she touch my food?” Rowan chuckled and finally looked at her. And what she saw in his eyes hurt her. He stood “I just… I need to get out.” He was about to leave but Aelin stopped him ‘I am coming with you.” Rowan shook his head “I need a bit of time alone. Please.” His green eyes were sad again and she just wanted to go to An Lanntair and slap the woman. How dared she treat him like that?” “Okay.” She touched his face and leaned in the touch and Aelin thought it was progress. At least he was not pushing her away. “I’ll call you later.” He kissed her cheek “I am sorry…” “Go. I’ll be fine.” Rowan nodded and left.

Aelin finished her lunch, paid Maeve and left the cafe with renewed purpose. She marched to An Lanntair. She entered the venue and walked to Lyria trying to fight the urge to punch the woman. “Out.” She ordered. Lyria looked at her confused. “Follow me. Outside. Now.” Her voice was a command. Once the two women were outside Aelin finally let go of her anger. “How dare you?” Her voice was full of rage “How dare you treat him like that? Do you have a heart? That man loved you. You were engaged to him. How can you be so mean?” “You are definitely not his type.” Lyria said with a bored expression. Aelin growled “What I am does not matter. What matter is how you treated him and I cannot stand that.” Lyria laughed “Gods, you are in love with him. You just fell for the most boring man alive.” Aelin’s hand clenched “he is not boring. He is a very interesting person, and he is funny.” Lyria’s mocking laughter reverberated in the street “Funny? Rowan funny?” “Maybe he was not funny because of you. Maybe you are the boring one.” Aelin spread her arms and challenged her “Maybe you are the one who is not his type. He likes them with a brain, by the way.” And this time she noticed a reaction in Lyria. “Well, if you love him so much he is all yours. I haven’t had any need of him in a long time.” Aelin was second away from inflicting some form of physical pain on the woman, but then she noticed Lyria’s expression change and a veil of softness appeared in the lines of her face “He was a good man before his injury, and I believe he still is. But after his injury he had to stop competing and something broke in him.” She looked at Aelin “I still loved him deeply at the time. The shop became his new dream. I followed and supported him for a while. He proposed and I said yes, the realised that I was in love with an old version of Rowan and I just left him.” Lyria sat on the bench in front of the community centre “He is a good man. He is sweet and caring. He is perfect for someone.” She finally confessed and Aelin could note a spark of the love she once had for him “But not for me. He became this man obsessed with family and after he proposed he started talking about the future. Our future. He wants the whole romantic deal. I didn’t and I still don’t care for all of it. He deserves to be with someone who can give him that.” Her brown eyes now bore into Aelin’s “And if you can’t give him that, don’t even start this relationship. I hurt him enough. He does not need more pain.” And with that she left and Aelin was stunned at the woman’s words. She felt like crying. She had to talk to Rowan but she had no idea where he went. A text could get her that answer but she doubted he would answer. He clearly needed time alone. So her steps took her down to the marina, she watched the morning ferry dock and people disembark, then with new resolution walked back to the bookshop and opened again without him. The afternoon felt wrong. Not having Rowan in the shop left her with a sense of emptiness. Later in the evening, Aelin was about to switch off the pc and close for the day when she noticed his screensaver. Recognition dawned on her. It was a picture of Butt of Lewis and, if her mind was not playing tricks, she had heard him once mention the fact that he loved that place. She had her answer. Quickly she closed up the shop, locked the door behind her and swiftly ran home. A gut feeling told her that Rowan was at the lighthouse.

It was half an hour later when she arrived at her destination, and when she spotted his car she knew she had been correct. But now doubt settled in her. He had clearly come to this place to stay alone and think and she did not want to intrude. But she could not remove from her mind the hurt expression she saw on him at the cafe. She had to do something. Try at least. And if he’d end shouting at her… well. She’d take that. She got off the car and slowly walked to him. His back to her he was sitting at the edge of the cliff and he was staring at the sea crashing against the cliffs. She was behind him when she heard his voice “I am okay.” He said gruffly. Aelin’s chest tightened. That was not the voice of a person who was okay. Quietly she sat beside him in silence. And for a while they sat side by side staring at the sea. He would talk when he was ready. She was not going to push him. “So, I opened the shop all by myself for the afternoon.” His head whipped to her side and she could spot a weak hint of a smile. “And we had a successful day. I placed a few orders for you and I think I got Miss McKinnon obsessed on a couple of series.” Rowan did not say anything, he just grabbed her hand and pulled her to him “Come here.” A moment later, Aelin was sitting between his legs, his arms wrapped around her and his chin on her shoulder. “I am sorry.” He whispered “It’s just…” Her hands were on his on her abdomen “Shh… no, it’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself.” His arms were tighter around her and she leaned into his chest. “I had a chat with the bitch.” She felt him stiffen at her admission “I gave her a piece of my mind.” “I have no doubt about it.” “Ro, what happened to you? She said you changed after the injury.” Rowan sighed behind her. For a moment she thought he was not going to answer. That was a far too personal question but she needed to know more in order to understand this wonderful complicated man. “I was good. I loved swimming.” He told her “There had been talks as well for me to compete in the qualifiers for the Olympics. I was living the dream. I was still in Glasgow and had to balance uni and a professional sport but everything was perfect.” The pain in his voice was now clear and deep “Then I got back here and I did manage to continue to train. Lyria became my girlfriend and she loved the spotlight.” He sighed again “What I told you the other day was not the complete story.” She squeezed his hand, she hadn’t told him her whole story either “I kept competing for a while and I did manage to get into the qualifiers for the Olympics. Then one day my life just crashed and all went to hell. During training in the gym I was doing weights. An idiot bumped into me. I dropped the weights suddenly and ripped muscles and tendons. I needed surgery and in a matter of days my dream of the Olympics was gone. Recovery took a very long time.” Aelin gasped “that bad?” Rowan nodded “Butterfly stroke was my specialty. It’s a complicated one and after surgery it became impossible to do it again.” “I tried it once. I looked like a demented whale. It was embarrassing.” And finally she heard Rowan chuckle. “I took it badly and for a while I was… cathartic. But Lyria still was beside me. Then the idea for the bookshop came. I had always loved books and I thought that was the way for me to follow a new dream. And you know the rest.” Aelin twined her fingers in his “It’s a nice dream.” “It is.” “I think Lyria always resented me for my injury. I was famous in town and she loved being stopped and having other girl jealous at her for being with me.” “So I assume her current boyfriend is a Hollywood star.” Rowan squeezed the hand back. “I doubt it, but definitely someone with money and a big job. She… likes to be spoiled, and me being a professional swimmer paid a bit more than being a lousy bookshop owner.” “You are not lousy.” Her head turned and searched for his eyes, to tell him how much she believed him. “She sounds very shallow.” Rowan sighed again and Aelin felt a pang of guilt for making him talk about a part of his past life that clearly still did hurt “She wasn’t always like that. She changed a while ago. Her company of friends had changed and they became a sort of bad influence.” The wind had started to pick up a bit but Aelin had no intention of going back home and she decided it was time to tell Rowan her complete story. Her full reasons for moving in the middle of nowhere. He had opened up to her, she owed him at least that. “My story is not complete either. I told you about my failed marriage, but there is another reason while I escaped.” Rowan kissed the top of her head “You don’t have to.” “Yes, I do. You told me yours and I need to tell you mine. I want us to be honest to each other.” He gave her a squeeze in response. “I told you I was a doctor. I was working in St. Mary’s Hospital which is one of the major trauma centres in London. I slaved to be able to work there. They had a limited numbers for interns and I did manage to get in. Once I was officially a doctor I started to slave to make my way up the ranks I kept working like a madwoman and did all I could to become one of the best. Then a few months ago our head of department announced he was going to retire. And I knew I was going to fight to get that job. I wanted to be the head of the cardio thoracic department. It was my dream, my goal. At the interview I thought I had the job. Two days later I get a phone call telling me that unfortunately the position had been given to another candidate.” Aelin breathed out to calm the rage. “I would have accepted it if they had chosen a candidate better than me. But they didn’t” “Let me guess. Daddy’s little boy or girl got it.” Aelin nodded “The son got it. This idiot who barely made it through med school got it because his dad pushed for it.” Aelin stood and began pacing feeling the need of release all the anger that surged in her every time she talked about that “I was in the middle on the divorce with Chaol. This was the last nail in the coffin. I kept going back to work but I hated it. So much.” With a swift movement Rowan stood and stopped her, placing his hands on her shoulders making sure she was facing him. “Then one day I saw a picture of a Scottish island and I decided that I was out of there. I took a sabbatical. Two week later I was on a plane to Glasgow. A week later I was here.” And the tears came back in full force. Rowan’s arms went around her and she sagged against him and wept until she was spent. “I am glad you came.” That was as much as Rowan could manage to tell her that he was madly in love with her. Baby steps, he kept telling himself. They clearly were far too hung-up on whatever happened before and they both needed time to heal, but he felt like they were finally getting there. Having Aelin in his arms was wonderful enough. He was happy to take anything that she was willing to give him just now. Even if it was just embraces, caressed or holding hands. He would wait for her. “Ro, when I said girlfriend before…” “I know, it’s fine.” And he squeezed her tighter then kissed her head. “I have an idea that will cheer you up hopefully.” She looked up at him and gave him a big smile “I am all ears.” “Tomorrow is Sunday and you know everything is closed on the islands and so is my shop. So, how about an adventure?” Her arms were around his neck in an instant “Yes!” “Let’s go back in the car, it’s getting cold and I’ll tell you my plan.” Aelin ran and Rowan laughed. And a few minutes later they were on their way back. “So, we are leaving the islands tomorrow. We are taking the ferry back to Ullapool. There are a couple of amazing spot that I want to show you. We need to take the ferry at 8am which means check in will be from 6am. Will you manage?” “Are you kidding me? I’ll be up and ready whenever you need me to.” Rowan’s hand went on hers and smiled her back “Good.” Once back in town Rowan drove Aelin home, feeling overprotective and all. She got off the car and he followed her in front of the house. “I’ll come and pick you up at six, is it okay?” “Perfect.” “Wear something comfortable but also layers and a windproof jacket. The forecast for tomorrow is really good, but it’s Scotland.” Aelin nodded. He brushed his hand gently against hers “I’ll se you tomorrow.” Aelin kissed his cheek “Tomorrow then.”

Once she was in the house she squealed in delight and texted Lysandra with an update. She was giddy. And finally happy.

#rowaelin #rowan whitethorn #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #fanfc #throne of glass series #lysandra #aedion x lysandra #fluff #angst

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tranderas · 4 years ago

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My email to Failbetter Games

I rarely see a reason to hide my motivations or actions. I don’t have a lot of regrets in life, because as I got older- I’m 34 now- I came to understand that it’s pointless. Try to learn, grieve things like lost friendships and loved ones as best you can, and be the best person your emotional and physical state allows you to be.

Anyway

To that end, I thought I’d air out my grievances to FBG in a rather long email. It was a long time coming as I wasn’t convinced emails would do anything. Elias on the Failbetter Community discord server suggested I at least try, and I spent a week of proofreading to make sure I was as courteous as I could manage to be despite my feelings. I’m angry, angry because this game was so dear for me for so long and it feels like the current team has taken it in a direction so much in the opposite of what I find fun.

That anger is unhealthy, of course. Art evolves. Bands change their sound because they get bored or they want to make money tapping into a new audience. Painters refine and improve their style. Writers improve the range of their vocabulary and change tone. Everything shifts in this world. The healthiest thing to keep in mind is the fact that the thing you loved was there for that point in time and nothing can take that away from you, from your favorite game as a child to your favorite bands in your teenage years, you’ll always have those moments of joy.

I want to hold onto this moment of joy that I experience with Fallen London as long as possible, so I wrote this email in the hope of convincing them to alter their direction so I can enjoy it a little bit longer. Except for the signature that contained my real name at the end- not that it’s hard to find if you care, as my facebook url is /tranderas- the text is unmodified. Hopefully this shines light on what I want.

What I don’t want is discussion about my needs. This is my place to explain, to vent, to point people to instead of typing everything out every time someone asks. But enough stalling.

___

Hello, I was encouraged in a Twitter interaction to write in and expand on my thoughts on the game so I figured I would do so now. Since I started writing this email before reading the December balance announcement, I'll address that at the bottom. The sparknotes version of what I'd like is as such: More content in London itself (especially socials), more Zee destinations, a profession uptuning, a fundamental rework of the deck that goes beyond favors, and a non-docks favor buff. From most to least important, the things I'd like to see addressed are:

1. The lack of endgame content within London itself is concerning to me for two reasons:

a. I play FL because it is a social electronic game, and I want to stay in zones in which I can continue to do social interactions. This is the reason I stay in London rather than going to Iron Republic and Port Carnelian, my first and second favorite zones respectively. If I wanted a story rich solo game I'd play Sunless Sea; if I wanted an analogue experience I'd play Blades in the Dark or read one of the books that influenced FL's style.

b. I simply don't like the mechanics of lab or parabola or how they gatekeep content. Because of this I haven't had any free content to pursue since the release of the new heists, and for a much longer length of time before that.

2. I'd love to see the remaining tier 3 professions given something they can do at lodgings. In general I prefer buffs instead of nerfs, especially in story games, and think it would be silly to nerf midnighter/correspondent/crooked-cross downward. Instead, give the others roles, perhaps in special options in the 4/5 card lodgings.

3. With the changes to Paramount Presence and the BDR power creep Notability has been significantly de-emphasized. I'd like that changed. To me the notability grind had the best balance of difficulty to cost-benefit analysis to end reward in the game, and while overcapping removed that, I would like something to use it again to make going above 10 worthwhile more often. Recent BDR items should make going even beyond 15 possible for very lategame players.

4. In addition to more endgame content within London, I'd like more midgame content at Zee. Sunless Sea got me especially interested in Frostfound and Irem, and a roleplay point for my OC is that she'd like to quite literally punch Mt. Nomad to death. Please don't feed us to spiders, though. The ones in London cause enough sorrow.

5. I would enjoy more free spouses that are not seasonal, and more ways to interact with player spouses. Again, it's a social game, and it makes sense to reward a desire to be social with the community. On the other hand, the NPC spouses in the game are limiting in their roleplay potential to the point that I've created a character around the Esoteric Accomplice for one of my OCs to get involved with between one roleplay relationship and another. Now allow me to take a deep breath while I discuss the proposed balance pass. The short version here is that I think it's wrong to release a deck refresh nerf without a fundamental change to what cards appear in the deck, and that the nerf to docks favors and yet another nerf to revs favors is misguided.

Here's the long version: I actually support a removal of the deck refresh mechanic. I got in trouble for calling flash lay resets an exploit on a private Fallen London fan server, and refused to use it until the lab convinced me it was a mechanic intended for use by FBG.

The widespread use of deck resets isn't a problem in its own right; rather, it's a symptom of how fundamentally broken the deck is in its current state. You have cards that are so bad that the narrative acknowledges they're awful and the mechanics give you a way to get rid of them at the cost of objectively worse lodgings. You have story signpost cards that clog up space held by desired cards. It can be nearly impossible to get Portly Sommelier (before deck refreshes i was getting one a month playing 60 actions a day) and dream qualities (my PoSI-ready SMEN alt has DbW3 playing every dream card that comes around). And most lodgings have cards that are objectively bad in a way that no new player can know without reading the wiki or asking someone- the exact problem you claim a desire to address in your announcement.

It's telling that players will do SMEN- a quest chain ostensibly about how much you're willing to sacrifice to some faceless maybe-god- in order to get rid of bad lodgings. I personally only bought back salon (Notability grind), rooftop shack (3 epa wine option), and bazaar premises (5-card potential plus good certifiable scraps/money option) after Trand got St. Beau's Candle, and JanieS only ever got the bazaar premises, her Remote Lodging, and the Orphanage. Even the other 4-card lodgings are only good under specific circumstances, and the rest of the 3s have worse cards with no endgame benefit.

Tranderas and JanieS both use remote lodgings. Trand is stuck with the Advertisements of a New Venture and Devices and Desires cards in his hand. Advertisements is an Abundant-rarity card. Since I have no intention of doing railroad due to disliking its mechanics the card simply sits in my hand. If I discard it, its rarity means it pops back up quickly. I think a way to opt out of story signpost cards such as aunt and railroad would be good progress toward solving the deck problem. There could be a large action or monetary cost involved with both removing it and reactivating it to balance, but without a way to get rid of these story hooks I need to keep refreshing to draw other cards around them.

As for the favors, I consider that part of the change mostly good. However, the docks favors -> Silk expedition doesn't really compete that well with other endgame grinds at the moment. Further, the Revolutionaries favor turn-in was already reduced dramatically this year, and I don't think it needs further tweaking. Rather than tuning docks and revs down, I would prefer to see the other factions tuned upwards, and the cost of earning favors eliminated from their cards (no 10 rostygold donation to the Church, for example). I'd still like to see the faction cards remain in the deck after they're given storylet sources, but made more rare, with the conflict options getting a boost to remain attractive in line with my proposed buff to payouts as they are good for London from a flavor/narrative perspective. In closing, it feels like the current FBG's team has a vision for the game that doesn't mesh well with how I see it and want to play it. Content has consistently moved away from what I want to do, leaving me with only SMEN and cider as goals to pursue (and as mentioned, I've run two characters- Samia R and Tranderas- through the quest chain to its completion). I obviously care about the game enough to want more things I like or else I wouldn't bother writing and proofreading this post or discussing and debating changes on the community discord, so I hope you'll take these opinions and suggestions into consideration moving forward. Regards,

Tranderas

#fallen london #tranderas #writing #game #game design #browser games #failbetter games

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centaurianthropology · 6 years ago

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The Magnus Archives ‘The Architecture of Fear’ (S04E18) Analysis

ROBERT SMIRKE EPISODE! ROBERT SMIRKE STATEMENT! My excitement knew no bounds heading into this episode about the side character I find the most intriguing of all the side characters, and the result was even better than I’d hoped. Come on in to hear what I have to say about ‘The Architecture of Fear’.

Holy shit, we kicked it off hard with that conversation between Elias and Martin. Elias confirmed that everything Peter was saying about the Extinction was ‘true’ (though I want to know the value of that truth, because the way he said it definitely seemed to imply a degree of equivocation), that Peter is trying to stop the end of the world, and that for some reason Elias can’t directly help. Instead he gave Peter the Institute and Martin to use to stop it, which is … a lot. Giving up the seat of his own Power’s influence to the Lonely in order to stop the Extinction’s emergence either means that Elias really does take the threat seriously and is helping as much as he can, or he wants to make the emergence take place in the tunnels for some reason. My money is on the latter, as Elias plays too many games, and I can’t imagine his assistance to Peter wouldn’t come without a great big catch.

He also confirmed that Peter does want Martin for the Lonely, and that Martin is the only one who can make that decision. In fact, it’s such an important decision that Elias won’t even try to manipulate him (and I was very intrigued by his dig that Martin also loves manipulating people, either indicating that they’re more alike than Martin likes to admit, or that Martin still has some affiliation with the Web as well). The weight of this one decision is clearly enormous, and I think there’s a third option that no one has mentioned, but might be the single most important option of them all. I’ll get back to that, however, after I talk about the statement itself.

In the meantime, Elias and Martin’s conversation also seemed to imply that either Martin really did go into helping Peter fairly blind and came to Elias for help extricating himself (possible but disappointing), or it means that Martin does have alternative plans, and is trying to manipulate Elias as well. Elias certainly implied as much, and honestly I would love Martin to be using Elias as a means of indirect communication with Jon, all while knowing that Elias would tell Peter, and further solidify Martin’s cover that he’s following Peter without any direction of his own. But, unless Martin really is orchestrating a masterful manipulation, it seems very possible that he really is simply in over his head while trying to protect the others. He hasn’t told Jon about the Extinction because he knows Jon’s penchant for suicide runs. So he may well be making one of his own. Again, I’m hoping it’s not so simple as that.

And Elias, in spite of his inability to try to influence Martin on his choice regarding allegiance, was otherwise happy to try to manipulate right back. I do believe Elias peppered useful information throughout the conversation, but couldn’t resist doing so in such a way that Martin would miss a great deal of it. I do like that they’re far more on the same page about that these days, and that Martin has grown enough spine to tell him to fuck off, but Elias still needs that upper hand. He needs to hoard his information, and dole it out in drips and drabs. It makes me worried about what manipulations he’s running on Basira, who is working most closely with him at this point.

As much as I could go on about their conversation, the real meat of this episode was the statement itself. Because there are statement givers who know nothing about what happened to them, statement givers who know a little, and then there’s Robert Smirke: perhaps the best authority on the powers in the last two centuries. A man with such a breadth of knowledge and influence, he might have invented the rituals, or given them shape enough to let the powers try them.

And apparently he wasn’t the only one with that sort of power. He spent his life trying to get others to follow him on the path of neutrality, and I was very surprised to find out that the person who may have lasted the longest before he, too, fell to a power was none other than Jonah Magnus.

That’s a hell of a revelation! Jonah Magnus has always been the original adherent of the Eye in London. We know that Von Closen was the original Archivist of this era, but I had assumed that Magnus filled Elias’ role from the moment he acquired Von Closen’s books. But apparently Magnus resisted that call for decades. Despite founding the Institute in 1818, he was still an independent entity as of 1867, or at least very recently fallen to the Eye due to his own fear of death. Both he and Smirke were courted for years by the Beholding, but both apparently resisted, even after whatever falling out they had (and I want to know a lot more about that).

And that makes the Institute even more interesting. It houses the Avatar of the Eye, the Archivist, but it’s possible that the Institute itself was established to be an independent force. Whether that’s still true is debatable. I think that, given both Elias’ words and actions, he is very much a high priest of the Beholding. He definitely seems like he wants the Watcher’s Crown to succeed. He wants the Archivist to fulfill his role. His actions are far more trustworthy than his words, and he has always been very Beholding. Is it possible that’s a lie, and he’s more independent than he wants to let on? Absolutely, but I think it’s telling that he murdered Leitner almost as soon as he found him, even though Leitner was the only other person who actively succeeded in staying neutral.

So the Institute was founded to be neutral ground, but it was taken over by the Beholding at some point, whether during Magnus’ life or after. That’s why it was built on or near Millbank. It was an extension of that neutrality. Is that why Peter thinks he can use the Millbank tunnels to stop the emergence of the Extinction? Jon thinks he mapped those tunnels fairly thoroughly, but I get the feeling those tunnels shift, and that they can hide themselves as needed. Jon saw what he needed to see, and they might be totally different now.

And speaking of Jon, isn’t it interesting that Smirke experienced all the powers in his dreams? While it’s possible that power is granted by something outside the Eye, I have to wonder if Smirke wasn’t a fledgling Archivist. But instead of embracing that role, Smirke turned his visions and dreams to neutrality. He used his head for architecture to try to balance all the powers against one another, and it seems like he may well have succeeded for quite some time.

But there was, apparently, a side effect. By detailing the powers, creating his taxonomy, and explaining them in a way that apparently no one had before, Smirke might have given form to the rituals in a way that made them performable as they never had been before. His extrapolations, based on the words of Maxwell Rayner, created the architecture by which the powers could become ascendant. His balance was a double-edged sword. Even as his building could contain the powers, they could also concentrate them. The Avatars of those powers were either repurposed, or new avatars emerged specifically made to enact the rituals. The Dancer, I would think, didn’t exist before the Unknowing existed. And even now the Dancer is crafted when the Unknowing draws near, using the life of another avatar as the fuel for its emergence.

This is probably why there’s been such an acceleration since the 1800s of attempts at rituals. I had wondered how, throughout all the history of humanity, no one had managed a successful ritual. It seems as though it’s because they either didn’t exist or hadn’t been given form before Robert Smirke.

Robert Smirke tried to save the world with balance, and instead gave every power the means of destroying balance forever. There’s a real tragedy in that, which is probably why I love his character so much, despite barely ever seeing him.

And as for Jonah Magnus, it turns out he was terrified of dying. Which, again, bolsters the notion that he might have, in the end, abandoned the road that he and Smirke walked together in order to save his own life, after a fashion. If he did give himself to the Eye, creating an immortal being that assumed the identities of others … well, I really don’t think it’s coincidence that Elias was in this episode. And I think that the ‘Elias is Jonah Magnus’ theory just got a great big boost. And if he was Magnus, and Magnus fell to the Eye at the end of his life, it makes sense that he would also fall to the temptation to use the Eye to prolong his own existence. And the longer he lived, the more and more tempted he would be to finally don the Watcher’s Crown. I had thought for a time that Jon would have to be the one to wear it, but now I’m almost certain it will be Elias.

But unfortunately, Jon doesn’t have this information, Martin does. And Martin is in a unique position. He’s apparently being used to try to stop the emergence of the Extinction, and is collating his information on it to pass on to Jon as a backup in case he can’t prevent the emergence of the Extinction (or if he himself is supposed to be the sacrifice) alone. He also has a better grasp on the nature of emergences, and on neutrality, even if he dismissed it at this time.

And that finally leads me to that third option I mentioned earlier. The Beholding and the Lonely and Web are all pulling at him, but can’t coerce him. For some reason, Martin’s choice needs to be totally his own, and I have to wonder if that isn’t because there is an unspoken and even more powerful option available to him: reject them all. Follow not Magnus or Lukas or the Web, but follow Smirke and Leitner. He’s one of the only characters we know to be actively courted by multiple powers. Despite being at the Institute for over a decade, he’s never fallen to the Eye. Despite being isolated by Peter, he’s, if anything, even more resistant to the Lonely. He’s had the Web hovering in his periphery for years, and has never given in.

Could this statement, given to him by Peter to show him that the emergence of the Extinction was possible, actually have a double, perhaps unintended meaning? Robert Smirke had power. Ridiculous amounts of it, really. He potentially CREATED the rituals. He used human architecture to harness the powers and establish a balance of them in London during his lifetime. It may have been fleeting, but that’s insane power. And all done because he refused the siren call of any individual power, relying instead on his own ingenuity.

Could Martin do that? He’s not Smirke, with his architect’s brain, or Leitner with his collection. The only thing Martin has in that abundance is compassion and—though he wouldn’t quite say it at the end of the episode—love. He’s driven by the need to protect those around him, and driven by his awkward, unspoken love for the Archivist.

Is that enough for balance? Is balance even a possibility? Martin seems skeptical at this point, but both Smirke and Leitner have shown that it can be done. Both of them seem to have died in the balance, even if they were killed by agents of a power. And isn’t it interesting that in both cases, it was the Eye that killed them, even though they were both allied strongly with agents of the Eye? Makes me worried that Elias is pushing Martin toward neutrality because neutrality is a necessary component of the Watcher’s Crown. Certainly it seems like Smirke’s death was a component of Magnus’ attempt at it (if indeed he did attempt it, and wasn’t simply using Smirke as a means of prolonging his own life, as Smirke also implied.

Conclusions

We were given a lot to mull over this week. A lot of confirmations about what Robert Smirke did and who he was, as well as implications about Jonah Magnus, the Watcher’s Crown, Elias, and the nature of neutrality. Martin is both maneuvering and being maneuvered, and seems to be avoiding Jon to protect him from himself. Which is both stupid and exactly what Jon did throughout season 3. The role reversal is aggravating, because you’d think that Martin of all people would have figured out that communication, or a lack thereof, was what caused so many catastrophes for them before.

I still don’t trust Peter, or his plan. I don’t trust Elias, either, and though I trust Elias to tell more truths than Peter, I also trust him to phrase them in such a way that people constantly get the wrong impression. Especially if he’s really Jonah Magnus having succeeded, at least in some way, at making himself immortal, then he’s been running a very long game. His complicated relationship with the apocalypse is likely because he needs some component of the Extinction’s emergence to power the Watcher’s Crown. He needs aspects of all the powers to subsume them. And he’s been waiting centuries for all of these things to line up just right.

And, perhaps, he needs another neutral party. Maybe Leitner was too dangerous, but Martin might just fit the bill. Elias could not tell Martin what to do, wouldn’t even try to manipulate him on that front. And I think that speaks to the nature of free will and choice in this universe, which has become a more and more prominent part of the story. Martin really does have to make the choice to fall to a power or retain his neutrality on his own for it to mean anything. He has to be willing. Whatever Peter and Elias and every other power under the sun have planned for Martin, they can only nudge. Peter has isolated him, but cannot simply claim him the way he’s claimed others. Elias will spin his stories and manipulate Martin on every other count, but on the choice, he has to remain silent. Even the Web, though it clearly appeals to Martin’s more manipulative side, has made no overt overtures to him. I’d be very interested to see what a conversation between himself and Annabel Caine would look like, because I think she would both understand him very well, and also need to remain silent on his alignment.

A true-neutral Martin is something I’ve thought about before, and this episode simply confirms how much I want to see it. I want to see him reject all the powers, and gain both independence (a huge thing his character needs for his arc) and strength through it. But, of course, his own neutrality may secretly play into Elias’ own plans regarding the Watcher’s Crown, positioning them both for season 5.

I haven’t been this excited about an episode in quite some time, and I’m very glad to have the old passion for this show back. The writing was top-notch, the two performances were fabulous (I really also like how Martin’s gone from terrified defiance to almost equal footing with Elias, and neither of them indicate that they notice the shift in their relationship). We’re only two episodes away from the mid-season finale, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s going to be about.

I suppose we’ll see in the next two weeks.

#The Magnus Archives #analysis

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