#again i'm only literally just now getting to martin and the worms

[autisticsupervillain]

Autistic Avatars not realizing that they're Avatars because they're just "like that": a thread

The Eye

Special Interest in the supernatural = constant food for The Watcher

You know about Interest? TELL ME EVERYTHING

"Hey man listen to me infodump about this horrifying ghost story I read for twenty minutes, alright?"

I need to Know everything about something before I partake in it.

"How did I Know that? Eh, I probably hyperfixated on it at some point."

I cannot be misunderstood so I'll beam the facts into your brain.

The Web

I must plan everything 200 steps in advance before doing anything.

I have prepared for all possible outcomes, I can now have this one conversation.

If I set up all these variables long in advance, then I can do everything correctly and Win the social interaction.

I cannot do anything before The Plan says to.

"I practice my social skills by talking to my spider friends." -Martin "Autism" Blackwood

The Stranger

I cannot socialize without being Uncanny.

If my socialization seems like an act, that's because it is. I practice it in the mirror every day.

Theater Kid

How do you Normal Human?

The Anatomy Class.

Assuming fellow Stranger Avatars also just have the 'Tism. They're not trying to be creepy, honest.

Can't do faces. Doesn't notice when you get replaced.

Being subtly off is too subtle for me.

The Lonely

"I have failed the social interaction. Let the fog reclaim me."

Talking to people is draining my batteries even faster than ever. I need to be alone for approximately 384,400,000 years.

Nothing can overstimulate me in the cool, blinding fog.

Nothing unpredictable can happen in the fog.

The fog is your friend.

The known connection between autism and depression feeds the fog.

The Dark

Why is the sun so god damn bright? I'm going to blow it up I swear.

Night Owl.

Everything's decently quite at night and people leave you alone.

Same overstimulation preventatives as the Lonely tbh. Dark and fog are good concealers.

The dawn is your enemy.

The dread florescent lights shall never bother me again. They break upon my arrival.

Can and will infodump to the monster under my bed. Even now it feels like it listens.

The Spiral

Autism makes getting other mental illnesses recognized hard.

Autism dissociation from body and mind. When did it become 3 AM and why do I hurt? Why am I grumpy? What vital self care task did I forget?

Literal mind doesn't often match reality. Reality is specifically unspecific.

Spaced out and wandered off. Where the fuck am I?

I'm not a mental baby, please stop treating me like it.

I'm not inherently dangerous, please stop treating me like it.

Memory problems my beloathed. Did that happen? I dunno.

What Is Time?

What Is Me?

The Gender

Why do things only make sense to me? What does no one else make sense?

The Flesh

Autism Genderfuckery = Flesh fueled dysphoria.

Meat is the only texture that's palatable. Especially the Mystery Meat.

Will never try any other foods. Too picky.

Infodumps about the horrors of meat processing at dinner and ruins the meal for everyone. More steak for me.

Hates PETA.

Double the arms means double the stim. You weren't using them, right?

Working out is a great stim.

The Corruption

Practices social interaction with the bugs who live in my walls.

"Insects are disgusting. I love them!"

Will protect endangered insects by any means necessary.

According to all known laws of aviation-

Relationship boundaries struggles.

Difficulty noticing sickness symptoms.

Is that nausea or am I overstimulated? *Accidentally causes supernatural plague outbreak*

Difficulty getting diseases diagnosed because of both Autism and noticing too many symptoms so the doctors assume they're faking.

Forgot vital hygiene needs.

The Bugs Are My Friends! They keep me company when I'm sick!

The Buried

Weighted blankets are insufficient, I need the Earth to reclaim me.

Avoid social interaction by tunneling everywhere like a mole.

101 facts about worms.

Forgor hygiene again. Time to become dirt.

Digging a hole is good stimming.

That guy who had to be buried alive to sleep properly. What do you mean you don't want to be buried?

The End

Aradia Megido from Homestuck.Com

That's it, that's the list.

The Desolation

The Autism Temper.

Losing relationships and friendships to ableism and your own disability constantly.

The Fire is a wonderful stim board. Watch it crinkle.

Just watching candles melt for hours.

The fire and thrill gives my life passion again.

Jude Perry.png

The Vast

Accidentally terrifying people by infodumping about the horrors of nature.

The stimulus of falling.

Nature/Space/Weather Documentary on in background always.

Okay, but from how high did you fall? I want to calculate your velocity as you fell through the void.

Weirdly enough... power scaling?

Power scaling is just the art of determining how easily your favorite characters can destroy mankind so... yeah, I can see it.

Brain empty, only terminal velocity.

The Hunt

Cat Autism

The inherent hyperfocus of the hunt. The chase. Your prey.

Studying the habits of your latest hyperfixation/Hunt assigned prey for days at a time.

I've spent so much time hunting in the woods that I forgot about human society. The Missing Person's Bureau have written you off for dead.

Returning to society to sell your wears and realizing you aren't human anymore.

That's okay. Social interaction is random. The Hunt makes sense.

It's black and white. Predator and prey. Humans hunting monsters. It Makes Sense.

The Slaughter

The incredible human WW1 documentary.

"Did you know?" *Describes horrible historic warcrime*

Takes apart puts back together guns from their collection.

The list of known casualties from this war is incomplete. With my help, they can expand it. :)

The Extinction

The world is spiraling towards its end and only you seem to care.

It hurts to be this passionate about a lost cause.

You Will Make Them Care.

[the-voldsoy]

Parallels/references/a couple theories about TMAGP EP1:

grouped in order of actual theories, vague things i noticed, and even vaguer comments! (using the same terminology as in TMA for ease)

HEAVY Spoilers !!

Stronger:

“Colin, mate, you know you’re never getting out of here” +won't leave until they figure out the errors “Or they finally kill me” → couldn't quit the Archives because they thought they just wanted to understand and know (but later found out they could only get out by dying or blinding)

Lena talks about cake → Mr Spider doesn't like cake + Elias seemed to love the stuff

pub called The Seward -> Peter Lukas vibes?

“There has to be a way to do this online” → haha ! you wish. (AKA supernatural interferes with internet so it cant be dont online)

“There's this box for a "Response 121" on the form.” → MAG121 is the episode Jon is woken from his coma/brought back to life by Oliver Banks

Talk about how there used to be a separate “Response” department → Elias tells Jon its their job to watch, not interfere (iirc)

Old as shit computer → old as shit tape recorders

AKA: the computer seems to be the only thing that can handle the supernatural

“ "Dolls comma watching" or "Dolls comma human skin" “ → violently Stranger and possibly Eye, has me in mind of MAG24 (the one the Calliope is first mentioned in, where the boyfriend is turned into a doll iirc) 

Barely understandable, long as shit file names →barely understandable, long as shit files names by Gertrude 

[in response to where the files go] “some long dead database that no one will ever look at or care about” → the Archives were unmanaged, decrepit and barely used by anyone outside of them

Work during the night - no sun, cut off from outside world → worked in a basement - no sun, cut off from outside world

Martin (and later Jon) taking the statements → did the same in TMA but in reverse (although I’d love to know if there's any reason behind them being called Chester and Norris, besides what's stated?)

Haha Martin and Jon (and Jonah) are now part of the World Wide Web → shit now they're part of the Web (just like with the tape recorders !!)

Someone talks about how they're sorry, they should've listened, couldn't face not hearing him again → martin @ jon and vice versa

Stranger statement with hints of the Dark → first TMA statement was a Stranger in the dark, and it does put me in mind of the Anglerfish tbh

Sorting system for the statements (although there's is a Lot more detailed and v different) → Smirke’s Fourteen

Gwen openly does not like Lena → literally anyone @ Elias

Asked if they were tricked into working here → well, we know the Archives and Elias

“The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → most of the Archives (excluding Sasha and maybe Martin) had something that made them Marked, that mostly led to them working there

Someone who's into spelunking listed the Institute as “cleared” → who could that be (if we know them at all)? Buried avatar, i'd guess, but we don't really know any of them

Photos of the Institute don't show up → photos of the supernatural don't work

The Institute was “weird”, made the subject paranoid → lingering Eye

Fire twenty years ago that burned the Institute → Like the fire at Hilltop Road? Or like that time Gertrude tried to burn down the Institute?

Third floor was the most burned → assuming that's the top floor (and correct me if i'm wrong), wasn’t Jonah in (and later killed) on the top floor?

“offices like little cells” → employees were certainly trapped ! also Millbank Prison

Worried non-existent doors were going to slam shut → the Distortion

Weren’t any papers → left behind before the Institute came to this Somewhere Else (assuming it's the same Institute)? (we need an actual name for the original universe and this Somewhere Else)

Suspicious stains on some floors → my darling, that is blood ! or possibly squished worms, or ink. or possibly something Else

“an old wooden thing with a bunch of similar symbols on” → genuinely unsure what this could be

Strange symbols → For all the Fears, or just the Eye, i wonder? I think i remember them saying something about an Eye symbol at this point, but now i can't find where

“you get a job, I get a fresh victim. It’s all in your contract.” → Elias @ his employees

 “To new beginnings, with old friends” → to a new beginning, with our old friends Jon, Martin and Jimmy Magma :)

“You’re not as clever as you think you are. You think you've got us all fooled, that no-one knows you're listening, But I do. I know. I’m going to find you and then…” → hi what did he mean by this

They (jon, martin & jonah) are Watching and Listening and following through technology→ just like Elias (Panopticon vibes tbh) and Sergey Ushanka

Vaguer (idk if theres anyhting here, but wanted to include it anyway):

Alice loves coffee -> Martin loved tea

Meeting in a cemetery → Sasha with Michael pre-prentiss attack, Naomi Herne 

Not wanting to stay at home because it's full of memories → Jon moving with Georgie, Martin moving to the Archives

Gwen Bouchard wants Lena’s job → Bouchard (appeared to) climb the job ladder quicker than he should have

Heh bug list → corruption

 “You don’t seem like the usual hopeless wasters Lena hires” “The awful, terrible thing that landed you here?” → okayy no need to be rude. But anyways the OG Archives crew were actually pretty disconnected from the rest of the world +were barely there by choice?

“freight cars near Brighton” → hey where did Melanie get her first Slaughter mark ?

“it’s not too awkward working with an ex?” → Georgie and Jon?

FR3-d1 -> i feel like there's something there, but i cannot figure it out

Just words that made me irrationally scared:

Stranger(‘s)

Distortion

Opposites:

Starts with a party for someone leaving → couldn't quit the archives

“ …you are perfectly within your rights to resign. No one is forcing you to stay here.”

please put any opinions/additions in the tags !!

[lostonehero]

Tma x mechs

Jonny archivist baby

"Is there a reason you're in my office, Sasha?" Jonny looked up from the statement on his desk.

"I've figured it out." Sasha smirks.

Jonny raised a brow. "Figured out what?"

"Why you suddenly became a dick after the promotion." Sasha hums. "You've fallen hard for Tim and Martin and me, but I'm aromantic, so sorry about that, bud. You're trying to cover your tracks by being a dick and pretending you hate everyone."

Jonny scoffs. "Of course not. I'm perfectly being just here as me and.... have you noticed Martin has a spider collection above his desk?" Jonny sighs. It's only been a few decades. How has he gotten so shit at lying?

Sasha raised a brow. "Jon, come off it." She crosses her arms as Jon sighs. "I'm sure if you talked to them they would be on board."

You're mortal all of you. Is what Jonny wanted to shout, but he couldn't. Even with the metal heart, he was falling hard and fast, weird horror be damned. Maybe he could use the weird horrors to keep them around long. He groans. "You have to be included aromantic or not. You're going to be a part of it, even if it's just sex."

"I'm sure I could arrange something." Sasha finishes her text, and there's a shout from Tim outside Jon's office.

"BLOODY KNEW IT." Tim shouts.

Jonny covers his face. He was screwed.

......

It's only been three weeks since they tried out the dating thing. He can only recall one other time truly where he was in love, and that was with Tim, not Stoker, but Gunpowder. It didn't end well. They remained friends, but it hurt. Tim blamed him for his eyes, but Carmillia was already dead to their knowledge, and they didn't mean to find him. They tried again a few times, but it was never the same, and everything it just hurt him more. DTTM was the final straw that broke the camels back. He's happier now than he has been for a long time. His crew probably doesn't even care that he's gone.

"Jon?" Martin's soft voice broke him away from the self hatred. "Jon, are you ok?"

Tim hugged Jonny's arm. "What ya thinking about, boss man?"

"We are literally in bed together. Don't call me that." Jonny sighs. "My ex, his name was also Tim. We became friends after but it was never the same yaknow. We were a part of this group like a family. I had a really bad falling out with them. That's how I ended up here." He sighs. "I'm not good at being open."

Martin sighs and moves Jon to his chest. "You feel like with us, you're betraying what you once had."

Tim nods. "Well, I'll be a better Tim." He hums softly. "You still have your memories even if they aren't great."

Jonny tries to hide his face in Martin's chest. "Enough! You're making me soft."

"That's the only thing soft about you. You're way too thin." Tim chuckles.

Jonny whines as Martin traps him in a soft hug. "Stop. I am a vicious man."

Tim smiles, joining the hug. "Mmh, yes, you're so scary."

"Yes, you make the statements come alive. Even if toy think they're fake." Martin smiles.

Jonny was absolutely fucked. He had to figure out how to keep them alive, and he'll be damned if Carmillia got involved. That bitch better stay the fuck away from here. She better be dead.

.......

It took a year for everything to go to shit. A fucking year. Jonny sat in the empty archives. It started when Sasha got bit by a moth of all things. He didn't think moths had mouths. Then she got sick. Elias was being a dick about it, and soon she was coughing up worms and talking about music she could only hear. She disappeared after that, claiming she was sick and he hadn't heard anything.

Next was Tim. He started to get sick and pale, claimed the light hurt. He wore long sleeves and sunglasses inside, but he didn't change mentally he just... physically, he was changing, and he tried to help, but one day, they were walking, and a cars shadow passed by, and he vanished. He mourned with Martin.

Last was Martin he helped get to the bottom of things. These fear gods were changing his loves, but they were supposed to have a choice. He rubbed his burned hand. Martin went to hill top road and didn't come back.

He should have known better. He can't just play pretend like he was some mortal. He wasn't even human. He could feel something wet drip down his cheeks. He was crying so much lately he was fucking pathetic.

A soft knock on the door made Jonny rub his face and sit up. "What is it?"

"Sup boss man." It was Tim he had sharper teeth, and his eyes were pitch black, but it was him.

"T-Tim?" Jonny shot up out of his seat.

"Yeah, it's me." Tim rubs his arm. "I can promise you I didn't want this. I've become some sort of monster, and you deserve to -" he gasps as Jonny knocks him to the floor in a hug.

"Fuck that, monster or not I still love you." Jonny freezes he never spoke those words since....

Tim pulls Jonny into a kiss. "Are you sure?"

Jonny nods. "You have to help me find Martin and Sasha now. Im a monster, too, I think. I got this weird knowing thing. Elias won't tell me anything, but I know he knows more than he lets on. We I know about the fears, and you've become an avatar. So what? I don't care."

"Jon, I could kill you." Tim still wraps his arms around Jonny."

"And?" Jonny scoffs. "A lot can kill me. it doesn't mean it will stick."

"What?" Tim blinks.

"I'll explain later." Jonny gets up, grabbing Tim's hand. "We have to find Martin."

"Jo-Jon, wait." Tim can't really stop as he's pulled along.

It wasn't hard to find Sasha next her apartment complex was condemned due to infestation. It also took no effort to break into.

"Tell me again why you know how to pick locks?" Tim sighs.

"Immortal space pirate, Tim please keep up." Jonny smirks as the door opens.

"Just because you survived being dragged through the dark doesn't mean I believe you." Tim pinched his brow as worms splattered Jonny, and soon enough, he exploded in worms, leaving a metal heart on the floor and a half eaten corpse. "Jesus fucking christ."

"Don't you hear.... oh hi Tim." Sasha waves as she makes her way across the room. "Seems you've been busy following a different song."

"I didn't have a choice in the manner." Tim frowns, staring down at Jon. He pauses, and his eyes widen, and he jumps back.

Jonny suddenly sits up as his skin knits back together. He now has ears that flare out like a cow and horns. His teeth are sharp he has claws and a long tail. "Ok, the first time I died like that."

Sasha blinks, and the swarm pulls away from Jon. "I'm sorry my brood ate you, and you exploded. Not that I'm mad, but how?"

"Immortal space pirate." Tim and Jonny say at the same time.

Jonny brushes himself off. "Aw shit my disguise failed. Anyway, do you know where Martin is? I'm pretty sure you guys aren't fired, and I'm in love, and I'm not giving up just because you're weird horror creatures. I've fucked weirder."

"I have so many questions." Sasha pursed her lips. "Let me get dressed, and I'll help you look."

"I also have questions." Tim pauses for a moment. "I love you too."

.......

A woman answered the door at hill top road. "Archivist."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever, where's Martin?" Jonny crossed his arms.

"Oh, dear archivist mother has plans for him."

"Ew." Jonny scoffs pushing past the woman. "Martin! I don't care what weird creature you've become. I'm not human, so it will be fine."

A confused response from Martin. "I.... what?"

"Martin!" Jonny runs towards the voice, getting caught in a web. "Fuck."

"Hello Annabelle." Sasha waves at the door she looks almost normal minus the moths fluttering around her.

"Mother doesn't want him dead." Annabelle pauses. "What is he hoping to accomplish?"

"True love." Tim dramatically swoons under his umbrella.

"We also warned him not to just run into here but as you can see." Sasha vaguely motions.

"FUCK!" Martin shouts. "WHAT THE FUCK JON?"

"What you act as if this is the first time I've knawed off a limb to get out of something. See, look, it's already growing back." Jonny motions to his newly reformed arm. "Also spider centaur is pretty hot."

Martin pulls Jonny up and kisses him roughly. "You are the weirdest man I've ever met."

"Technically, not a human man." Jonny snickers.

......

Elias was about to pull his hair out. He had no idea how his new archivist had gotten his assistants back after they turned into avatars. It's actually impressive, but since one of them is now the web, he can no longer spy on his archivist. The hats were new, but he couldn't understand why Jon insisted that it's his new thing. It's the middle of summer. He does not need to wear winter hats.

.......

Nastya had returned to the Aurora too much fanfare, and it only took a day for her to ask where Jonny was. She stared at Tim, who crossed his arms. "So?"

Tim sighs. "After we realized we're yaknow truly immortal. He took it the worst and didn't accept it like the rest of us, and he left. Stole a ship and a bunch of shit, but he's been gone for 100 years. Lyf took his position as lead singer, but we have been looking for him."

"We don't have a way to track him." Brian adds. His metal body has been changing to reflect how he looked before the mechanisms. He was very quiet about it, but it was extremely noticeable. His top hat covered his fox like ears. "We all want him back. We found you by accident looking for him."

Nastya frowns. "He's gone?"

Tim frowns and looks away. "He didn't even take the metal box he keeps under his bed."

"Bullshit." Nastya touches the wall. "Aurora, track the ship Jonny stole. I'm getting my brother back. You're going to apologize." She points to Tim. "He's our captain."

Tim nods. "I fucked up."

.....

"Man, you human holidays are fun." Jonny's tail flicked happily behind him. The Magnus Institute was throwing a massive festival for Halloween. Elias was taking statements he insisted on that. "Didn't have anything like this on my astroid."

Martin followed behind with normal legs but 8 eyes and three pairs of arms. "Well , we will remedy that."

Tim seems to have hair that floated like rising darkness. His eyes were pitch black, and his mouth was full of sharp teeth. He was wearing a shirt. Jonny made him say the better Tim. "Martin, I think he likes it for the amount of sweets he's able to get."

Jonny scoffs. "I like the costumes."

"You're not even dressed up." Sasha raised a brow. "You said that was your normal outfit in space."

"Well, yeah, but it's not normal here, and humans don't have ears teeth or a tail like mine." Jonny huffs.

"Point taken." Martin chuckles. "Oh, looks like Elias got a band to play for the festival."

"It's not a band it's an open mic. A feast of stage fright." Jonny hums. "I'll perform something."

"Spoiling us?" Tim purrs.

"Yes, always." Jonny gasps as Martin picks him up.

"You're a hopeless romantic for someone who has lived as long as you and claims to be just as bitter." Martin smiles.

"Only for you guys." Jonny kisses the right side of Martin's mandible. "We could just skip this and have fun in the bedroom."

"Horndog." Tim chuckles. "How about after we hear you sing song bird?"

"Tim's right." Martin's gaze darkens. "You have to both earn it."

Jonny shudders. "Yes, sir."

Tim nods eagerly.

.......

"Impressive costumes." A cheery soft voice came from a tall, muscular sailor captain.

Lyf blinks. "Um, hello."

"Costume?" TS tilts their head.

"I didn't think Nikola would change for Halloween." A man wrapped around the sailors arm.

"Um, right...." Lyf sighs. "Um, could you help us? We're looking for a man going by Jonathan Sims." He hopes Nastya was right in the fake name Jonny chose.

"You're looking for my archivist?" The man's eyes flash green.

Lyf's eyes flashed rainbow. "I'm sorry. Did you say archivist?"

"Correct. I'm Elias Bouchard. This is a nice Halloween festival for my insistute. Jon is with his partners traversing the festive scene." He gives a sinister smile. "I highly suggest the activities while you look."

"That Sounds Like Jolly Good Fun." TS drags Lyf into the festival grounds.

"W-wait, TS!" Lyf groans he had more questions to ask.

......

Inspector: At the Halloween festival with TS. It's being thrown by the Magnus Institute. TS has prevented me from asking more questions to the head of said institute. However, Jonny might be the head archivist.

Archivist: There is a 100% that's bullshit.

Fire Fire: that's a good joke kid

GP: there's a open mic here to perform.

TS: I Made A New Friend.

There's a picture of TS next to a mannequin who seemed nervous in clown makeup. There appears to be human skin stretched tightly around the plastic body.

TS: This Is Nikola.

Inspector: Tim why the fuck didn't you warn us about earth?

GP: What the fuck are you talking about

GP: TS what the fuck.

Drumbot: I am with Nastya. We have found a meat themed activity. I agree with Lyf. This doesn't seem very human. However my phone will be taken for this so I will talk later.

GP: meat?

GP: Brian?

Doctor: I am going to the mushroom tent! Lyf invitation open to join. I think they will enjoy the fact I am poisonous.

Inspector: Marius we still haven't figured out what you are.

Science officer: Not for a lack of trying. Anyway, I'm going to find that meat tent.

Fire Fire: there's a woman named Jude Perry and she's all about Fire I'm going to find her.

Nastya: They did not let me in with Brian. However, they did give me some sort of meat on a stick. Jonny would love this.

GP: ill play my song. If he's here, he'll come to watch right?

Nastya: I will join you.

.......

Brian stumbled out of the tent. His throat hurt from screaming. He stopped in his tracks and when he looked down at his hands and saw flesh. He blinks and continues to stare. He could feel more so than he did before. He could hear the heart in his chest. He can feel his fox ears twitch under his hat. He could feel his tail. When did he get a tail? He always had one before...

A man bumped into him. "Oh shit sorry man." The man paused, tilting his head. "You ok?"

Brian stared at the man, and it was Jonny. He had glasses on and his normal outfit. "I uh...." He could feel everything, and he was getting overwhelmed. "I think... I." He felt Jonny grab his arm.

"Come on, you look like you're about to pass out." Jonny says softly, leading him to a table where three other people are already sitting down. "Hey, I know promised snacks, but we'll he looks like he's about to panic." He sits the man down who stares down at his hands.

Brian blinks as a bottle of water is put in his hands. He can't eat or drink. Why was this... he unscrewed the cap and drained the contents. Something wet dripped down his cheeks. A soft warm had patted his back, and Jonny sat to his left.

"Hey, are you ok?" A soft voice came from Brian's right. A man with eight eyes and a spider mandible gives a soft smile. He hands over half of a sandwich. "I know the tents can be much for anyone."

"Because avatars run them." The man with shadow like hair sighs. He hands Brian a few tissues. "It's impossible to stop others from being dragged inside."

Brian nibbled on the sandwich. It's been millions of years since he ate anything since he could taste. He couldn't even feel the metal in him, but he knew it was still there. It was changed and he couldn't understand, but this was the best meal he had ever had.

"So what's your costume? It seems very realistic." Jonny smiles.

Brian swallows and wipes his face. It was still so overwhelming, but he could handle it. He pulls off his hat to reveal two fluffy fox ears.

"Oh, let me guess! A foxy magician!" The woman chuckles as moths flutter around her.

"No, he's obviously an animal tamer turned animal." The man nudged her and they both giggle.

"He could just be a furry." Jonny wiggles his brows and the table erupts into laughter.

Brian can't help but laugh along.

"Wait, I have one he's a musician." The spider man smiles.

Brian giggles and nods. "Correct!"

"I'm an ex musician." Jonny smirks.

"No, you're not. You take every chance to perform." The man throws a crumple piece of paper at him.

"Ok, fine, I'm a part-time musician and full-time archivist." Jonny smiles. "Ah, right, let me introduce everyone. The man in the better Tim shirt is Tim, the lovely lady with the various moths is Sasha, and the spider guy is Martin. I'm Jon, the archivist of this insistute, currently dating the two handsome gentlemen, and fucking Sasha because she's happily aromantic."

Sasha salutes.

Martin waves, and Brian notices he has three pairs of arms.

Tim throws finger guns. "You're free to join us. Jon's got a sweet tooth, and double boss man got some American sweets for a few booths."

Jonny nods and gets up. "He's an honorary assistant for the day then."

"You probably shouldn't say that, Elias might actually hire him." Martin chuckles.

"To be fair, he hired you." Sasha winks getting up.

Martin chuckles, holding one hand out to Brian. "Come on, we'll help you navigate this place."

Brian realizes Jonny doesn't recognize him. Which makes sense if he wasn't metal anymore. He also left before his body started to change to reflect what he looked like before mechanisms. He sighs and nods. Might as well see what has happened to Jonny.

"I'll lead the way!" Jonny hops up.

"Eye eye boss man." Tim chuckles.

Jonny rolls his eyes. "We are literally together. Don't call me that."

"Fine, sorry, cowboy." Tim smirks as Jonny blushes.

"... go back to boss man." Jonny says with a deep blush on his features.

.......

Drumbot has changed his name to Brian

Brian sent a photo

It's a picture of Jonny between two men looking happy. Both men are kissing either cheek, and he has a sign that says little cowboy and his partners.

Brian: Jonny doesn't recognize me, but I also don't recognize me.

GP: I'm sorry, but Jonny got hitched!

Nastya: He's wearing wedding bands? Isn't that a human custom?

GP: Brian, what switch are you on

Brian: None

Archivist: impossible

Brian sends another picture

It seems to be a selfie. He has grayish goldish skin, soft, long hair, and big fox ears. He doesn't appear to be made of metal anymore.

Brian: The meat tent was actually a guise for a Flesh god.

GP: this literally can't be earth

Doctor: I think I accidently poisoned the nice mushroom man.

Lyf: I need to bleach my eyes.

Fire Fire: I think I believe Brian becoming flesh again over Jonny getting hitched

Archivist: this is all highly unlikely scenarios

Science officer: I am grabbing you Brian.

TS: My New Friend Stole My Arm Then Screamed When It Reattached

Lyf: I'll get TS from causing a panic.

Doctor: Wait let me come with you my love.

Lyf: not until you bathe in a bath of bleach

Doctor: only for you.

GP: I'm going to rip my eyes out.

........

"Brian!" A woman swoops down mechanical wings spread out as she grabs Brian's shoulder. "It even feels like flesh."

"Ah." Martin pauses. "So, is this a former crew member?"

"Yup." Jonny hums and sips on his bright orange drink.

"So how many are there, like 9?" Tim raised a brow.

"Well, Nastya left, but Lyf joined, and Aurora can be considered a mech as well." Jonny shrugs.

"Isn't Brian supposed to be metal?" Sasha nudges Jonny.

"You know that explains what he looks so familair and yeah he is supposed to be metal." Jonny shrugs again, watching Raphaella poke and prode Brian.

"No wonder why he had a panic attack." Tim hums. "I probably would too if I went from metal to flesh."

"Jonny...?" A Russian accent caught Jonny's attention.

"Nastya?" Jonny smiles. "It's been a while and it's nice to see you."

"What happened to you?" Nastya stops right in front of Jonny.

"Therapy mostly, got hitched, and git a degree, became archivist, and just enjoying life with weird horror gods. What's up with you? It's pretty fucked up that you broke up with Aurora because she changed physically but not mentally."

Nastya blinks and opens her mouth, but Jonny cuts her off.

"Yaknow, I spent decades helping her through the breakup and losing my sister." Jonny sips his drink obnoxiously. "Eh, I'm mostly over it, Marius was right. Therapy does help. Anyway, congrats on rejoining the mechs or whatever you're doing."

Raphealla and Brian have both stopped and stared at Jonny.

Brian takes a breath. "I think my ears are malfunctioning."

"No, I heard that too." Raphaella blinks.

Nastya stared stunned at Jonny.

"Have a fun time and stay away from the tents, you'll get pretty fucked up in you go into them, and not in the fun way." Jonny gets scooped up by Martin.

"I think that was very emotionally grown of you." Martin smiles.

"Does this mean the other Tim is here? Oh fuck yeah I'm going to fuck with him." Tim runs off and jumps into a shadow.

"Follow him!" Jonny climbs to Martin's shoulders. "This is going to fucking confuse Elias to no end."

Martin chuckles. "With pleasure."

[toosicktoocare]

Let me preface this by saying I’m only in season 1 of The Magnus Archives, and I’m just now getting, I think, legit introduced to Martin. But, I’m lowkey obsessing over it, and I’ve been reading fics for it. So, I just wanted to write this little drabble with Jon and Martin. 

tl;dr: i don’t know what I’m doing, but I want to write this anyway

Martin’s lost in his work, gnawing absently on his lower lip. He’s spent the better half of an hour working through mental scenarios on how to approach a rather complicated statement follow-up, with each idea yielding the same, unfortunate result of a definite “no.” 

He’s mentally working around the kinks, staring blankly at the biography, the adjectives and facts building within the introductory speech he’s writing word for word in his mind, when Tim slips in and slams a folder on his desk, startling him into a jump and a yelp. 

“Tim, what-”

“Take this to Jon, will you?” 

Though a question, Martin can hear the finality coating Tim’s tone, leaving little to no room for question or argument. He glances down at the file, flipping through the documents before bringing a puzzled look toward Tim. 

“This is the research he asked you for. How come-”

“He’s in a mood,” Tim sighs, waving one hand about. “I don’t feel up to dealing with it today.” Tim starts toward the door, turning to offer Martin a quick “thanks” before disappearing around the corner. 

Martin stares blankly at the empty doorway for a long moment, thoughts lost among erupting emotions: nerves, fear, a loud hint of excitement. But then he smooths his hand over the file, recalling the muted sense of urgency in Jon’s tone when he asked Tim for the research yesterday. 

He grabs the folder, clutching it close to his chest for reasons he can’t quite pinpoint, and starts toward the archives, the walk long since easy muscle memory for him. 

The door’s, unsurprisingly, closed when he reaches the archives, and he can hear Jon’s deep vibrato echoing from the gap at the bottom of the door. Martin reaches for the doorknob, hand freezing just before it, hovering in the air. 

Though he would never admit it, Martin’s frequently been hesitating outside of the archives, taking just a few moments to just listen to Jon’s voice, to the way it takes to different timbres as he reads through statements, truly capturing the fear colored behind each word. It’s such a drastic contrast from Jon’s normal, dark, sharp tone, and Martin can’t help but take a few moments to get lost within himself when he listens to Jon read, even if it often results in Jon chastising him for his slow work ethic. 

He’s quite aware at how creepy that makes him seem, but, today, he’s glad he’s taken to the rather odd habit, as he’s quick to pick up on the exhaustion laced in Jon’s tone. Frowning, Martin can almost pick apart each crack of Jon’s voice, and he rubs at his own neck with a frown when Jon stops more than once to clear his throat. 

Jon sounds, Martin thinks, rough, the edge of his voice sounds frayed thin, tired, and he’s suddenly moving far too quick when he drops his hand to the doorknob and throws the door open. 

He expects a yell, a curse even, as he’s heard so many times before, but Jon only briefly closes his eyes and sighs softly to himself. Martin takes that silent moment free of a verbal reprimand to study Jon’s drawn, sunken face with pink tinged cheeks and a red-rimmed nose. He moves his gaze further to Jon’s rumpled clothes that he knows, for a fact, Jon wore yesterday. 

“Martin,” Jon draws out at the same time Martin sputters, “did you go home last night?” 

“Excuse me?”

Jon’s eyes are open now, and behind the abundantly clear exhaustion, they are narrow, borderline dangerous, and Martin swallows thickly and absently clutches the folder tighter to his chest. 

“I just mean,” Martin stammers, “your clothes. You wore those yesterday.” His voices trails off at the end, and he finds a stack of folders on the ground to train his eyes to, unwilling to meet Jon’s pointed gaze. 

“Did you interrupt me to judge my attire, or did you-” Jon pauses to cough lightly into the back of his wrist, “-excuse me, or did you come to give me something?”

Martin drags his gaze up to see Jon gesturing toward the folder he’s got practically stapled to his chest, and he shakes his head quickly. 

“No, sorry, of course,” he sputters around each letter as he hands Jon the file folder. “Tim asked me to bring this to you.” 

“And he didn’t bring this himself because?” 

“He’s busy,” Martin lies quickly, offering brief, made up details about research regarding a rather complex statement Jon read through yesterday. 

“Right,” Jon mutters, already turning back to his tape recorder, eyes flicking briefly through the file, and Martin knows that’s his cue to leave, and he should leave because clearly Jon’s unwell, but it’s that notion alone that has Martin’s feet unable to move away from his spot. 

He stares, instead, at Jon, at the barely visible tremor jerking over the curves of Jon’s shoulders, or the way Jon absently brings the sleeve of his sweater up to his nose, sniffling quietly. His heart lurches and twists, and he’s so lost in the mere thought that Jon is very much unwell that he doesn’t hear Jon call his name more than once. 

“Martin, is that all?” 

Shaking his head clear of loud thoughts, Martin cocks his head to the side slightly, brows furrowed. “Are you alright?” He knows the answer, and he also knows the predictable, clipped reply that’s to come, but he asks anyway because he’s worried. 

“Of course I’m alright,” Jon snaps. “Close the door on your way out.” 

Martin does so despite the pit pushing in his stomach, and he starts quickly to Tim, finding him half-reading through something on his computer while Sasha chats idly with him. 

“Jon is sick.” He says, the words spilling quickly off his tongue. 

“I know,” Tim answers, arching one brow that Martin shakes his head at. 

“You said he was in a mood.”

“He is,” Tim responds easily, eyes falling back to the computer screen. “He’s always in a mood when he’s sick.” 

“Shouldn’t we try to send him home?”

“Wouldn’t do any good,” Sasha says. “Jon will-

“-only leave in a casket,” Tim finishes for her, and Martin can only huff, frustrated, as he slips back to his small office. 

He tries to get lost within his work, tries to chase the need to impress Jon, but worry is consuming him, twisting within the pit of his stomach, and he can’t keep his mind from drifting back to how poorly Jon looked. He wants badly to help, but he’s treading on thin ice as it is, and, as Tim said, Jon’s in quite the mood. 

Still, Martin can’t shake the need to do something. He leaves to the break room to make tea, Jon’s favorite tea, but he only knows that by pure coincidence. At least, that’s what he always tells himself. He avoids Tim and Sasha as he makes his way back to the archives, waiting patiently outside the door until he hears the familiar “Recording End.” 

He knocks this time, already wishing to make up for his abrupt entrance earlier, and he takes the distracted hum as an all clear to enter, pushing the door open slowly, frowning as he listens to the rather rough bout of coughing Jon’s struggling through. 

“Martin, how many times do you plan on interrupting me today?” Jon chokes out around a few ragged breaths, and Martin holds up the mug as a silent peace offering. 

“I made tea and accidentally grabbed the wrong tea bag,” he lies, setting the mug down on Jon’s desk. “Figured you might want it.” 

Jon only mutters a distracted “thanks” as he brings his attention to his next statement, but Martin doesn’t miss the way Jon’s hand smooths around the mug as if seeking warmth. 

Martin slips silently from the room, leaving his back pressed against the door as he listens to Jon roughly clear his throat before beginning his next recording. His head thumps softly against the door, eyes tipped up to the dusty ceiling light above him. He listens to the pained voice on the other side of the door, and though he knows he’s bound to bear witness to Jon’s wrath, he makes a silent vow to check on Jon once more before he leaves. 

Somehow, he manages to get work done, albeit very little work. It takes him twice as long to conduct his follow-up research, stopping twice when he spots Jon shuffle by, once headed to the break room with a familiar, empty mug. Martin couldn’t help but smile at that, though, he wished it were under better circumstances. 

Once it’s time to leave for the day, he practically leaps from his desk chair, only just remembering to lock his computer as he gathers his coat and heads toward the archives. He pauses before the door, only knocking when he’s sure by the silence on the other end that Jon’s not recording. 

He gives a courtesy knock, and the weak, muffled “come in” that comes after has Martin all but ripping the door open out of concern alone. 

Jon’s got his head resting atop his folded arms, his glasses resting on the table beside him. Martin can see him shaking, and when Jon finally lifts his head, as if the small movement is one of the hardest things he’s done, Martin can’t help but suck in a sharp breath. He’s got an entire speech about self-care curling to the tip of his tongue, mind only halting when Jon holds up a single hand. 

“Don’t,” Jon mutters, and Martin frowns, sympathy coloring his eyes. 

He opts for a softer approach. “I know I asked earlier, but are you alright, Jon? You really don’t look well.” 

Jon tilts back in his chair and presses the back of his hand to his cheek. Martin can only imagine the fever heat, and he has to bite back the urge to feel for himself. 

“I...” Jon sighs around a few coughs. “I will be,” he opts for, and if Martin wasn’t so worried for Jon, he would fall flat on his ass at the sheer transparency of Jon’s tone, at the admittance, the lack of heated argument. 

“Elias has already graced me with quite the lecture,” he adds, voice thick with congestion, sounding impossibly deep, something Martin takes quick note of. “I’m to leave on time and rest until I’m well enough to return.” 

“That’s probably for the best,” Martin mutters quietly, feeling almost relieved at the sharp glare shot toward him. 

The two fall into an awkward silence, one Martin usually flees from for his own heart’s sake, but he can’t, once again, quite get his muscles to move. He clears his throat, stumbles over a few words. “I should... I’ll be going now. Please let me know if you need anything.” He didn’t plan on adding that last bit, it just slipped off his tongue, almost naturally, and he swallows harshly, biting back his nerves as Jon bids him a quaint “bye” as if he hadn’t heard anything Martin said. 

Martin forces himself to turn and leave, pausing for a moment, eyes casting down to his coat folded in his arms. He turns back quietly, ignoring the studying gaze locked to his every move as drapes his coat over the back of the chair before wordlessly leaving the archives and starting the trek home, feeling cold in the chilly wind, but cold without regret. 

He’s surprised when he wakes the next morning to an email on his phone from Elias stating that Jon will be out sick for the next few days and no one is to bother him for any reason. Yet, he’s even more surprised when he arrives to work an hour later to see that Jon is, in fact, not in, being as he’s notable for bypassing Elias’s orders on more than one occasion. 

He greets Tim and Sasha as he starts toward his office, brows furrowing as both point out the absence of his coat with questionable smiles. Shaking his head, he ignores them, only shrugging at them as he enters his office, dropping his bag to the floor and sinking in his chair. He goes to shake his computer mouse, hand freezing as his eyes catch sight of a sticky note stuck to his monitor. 

“Thank you for the coat. It’s... very warm. I will have it dry cleaned before I return it-- Jon.”

Martin’s cheeks flush a faint pink as his eyes follow the curve of each letter, and he smooths his hand over the sticky note before plucking it off his monitor and slipping it into a desk drawer, happy that, though not a lot, he was able to help Jon in some way. 

[thephantomcasebook]

In the book, helaena is said to have died or found dead just after sunset and aemond battle with daemon is at sunset … I wonder if she could have gotten the news that her brother aemond died by raven just a scant hour or couple of hours after … like in the book it is really such a coincidence that she decides to jump on the same day? Do you think at the very least George wants to allude that out of all the greens helaena was closest to her brother aemond? Or maybe it really is just a coincidental date?

I wonder if Martin isn't guiding them down certain paths and avenues.

I always took the chemistry and familiarity between the actors who play Helaena and Aemond to be that they literally just got done working together on a show they've been on for years ... so they're pretty dialed into each other.

But now that you point that out - I'm a little rusty on precise TDoD lore - I'm starting to think that we're getting tidbits of info on the Greens that were incredibly scant in the book but that Martin was sort of playing 4-D chess with in his head.

For example. If I remember correctly, Larys spends a good deal of the war trying to get rid of Daeron. I don't mean kill him - though I wouldn't put it past him - I mean he kept trying to find ways of prying Alicent away and separate them. When Daeron goes to Old Town to raise a new army, it was Larys who suggested to send him - playing on Daeron's frustration of Criston and Aemond always leaving him behind to protect Alicent and King's Landing.

I always found it strange behavior ... but after the "Butcher's Ball" when it's revealed that he had turned coat on the Greens, it made sense that Larys would want Daeron gone so that King's Landing was undefended so Rhaenyra could ride in and burn it to the ground.

But now, in the context of the show, It makes even more sense that Larys would be threatened by Daeron who is extremely close to Alicent and wouldn't be down with him being the, uh, only patron of her Only Fans. And it would make an interesting story to watch if Alicent's devotion to Criston and the rivalry with Daeron are the reasons that Larys decides to go over to the Blacks.

In the same breath, I wonder if "Blood and Cheese" is what makes Aemond go feral. If we see him take on the blame for it, since it is his actions (next episode) that provoke it. Seeing Helaena lose her mind, cracks something deep inside and he goes looking over and over again for some kind of redemption. 

And since we know that Daemon is the one that set up “Blood and Cheese” with the White Worm. It would be fitting that Helaena and Aemond leave the world together with the piece of mind that the person responsible for her child’s murder was brought to justice, that Aemond found redemption.  

Aemond and Helaena would not be the first Targaryen sibilings that had unrequited love for one another. There's Naerys and Aemon, Daemon Blackfyre and Daenerys Targaryen I ... But Aemond and Helaena might actually be the first.

I mean, it fits Martin's style of rhythmic history were things and characters tend to repeat over and over again.

Criston = Jaime

Alicent = Cersei

Rhaenyra = Daenerys

Jace = Jon Snow

Daeron = Robb Stark

See what I mean?

[littlebigmouse]

TMA MAG 58 - hey squad it's the cannibalism mention of the day!

[shrek voice] They didn't even eat anyone.

Honestly I was not looking forward to an episode about settlers on the Oregon trail, but instead this episode quickly became part of my top ten? Love the main character for this one. Unnamed author of the statement, I respect you, your attitude, your gun, and the talking corpse of your foolish husband.

I need more stories featuring marriages of convenience like this, where its just two people with similar goals going "eh, tax benefits" and hitting it off.

Regarding the supplement:

Yeah, I am 100% with Tim on this one. Honestly would love to get more on how Tim's been struggling since the Prentiss attack, since his experience was quite similar to Jon's there, and the fact that Jon now 'looks at him like a murderer' must not have been easy, on top of everything.

I need Jon to investigate harder so I can learn things about Tim as a character before he gets hurt.

Because that's what this is leading up to, isn't it. Jon is spiralling hard - he still has literally NO SUS on Tim, despite even stalking him to his home - and every interaction that should deter this behaviour just makes him double down. At least he's backed off Martin's back for now. I do think Martin may be Jon's last chance to get out of this, because I don't think Tim will just roll over and offer whatever secrets he may or may not even have that Jon is so desperately looking for. I'm starting to think Jon doesn't even care what he finds on people anymore, as long as he gets any information on them without asking? I guess? Honestly, given how fruitfull the confrontation with Martin has been for Jon, one would think he would learn from this encounter and just ask his coworkers about things.

At this point I am wondering if I've missed an episode, because there really is no indication to suspect any sort of criminal activity from Tim, who's been struggling with the aftermath of the Prentiss attack, and all his coworkers, who I assume he would have considered friends back then (I doubt he'd still consider Jon this now), suddenly acting batty (Sasha's weirdness, Jon's... yeah, Martin kinda siding with Jon over Jon fucking stalking Tim).

This is the first indication we've gotten from Tim that he's not doing okay, as he's been lightly teasing Jon over Basira the past few times he's shown up. So from Tim's perspective, he's been giving Jon enough opportunity to get his shit together, to get back to normal, to get back to the coworking friends who bonded over a traumatic event, but of course Jon didn't even realize the extended olive branches and kept pursuing his conspiracy theories with the subtlety of a thousand worms breaking into the archives at once.

Again, I genuinely do not believe Tim has anything to do with Gertrude's murder. But I do believe Tim's been cracking because of Jon, and something has got to give soon. I'm only at the halfway point of the season and I am already wondering how they'll keep escalating this conflict for 20 more episodes, considering Jon is already running out of leads and suspects and everyone else keeps getting closer to just slapping him in the face for his trouble (best case scenario, and honestly valid). I think things are going to get worse before they get better. I do think Tim's and Jon's friendship will end before they potentially get a chance to rebuild it. I also think, given that this is a horror podcast, either Jon is going to push too far and commit a horrible mistake that will severly hurt one of his coworkers (with Martin kinda on his side, Not-Sascha getting a different subplot and Elias remaining a giant questionmark but being too emotionally unimportant to Jon, so the most likely candidate is Tim right now), OR Jon is going to push Tim beyond a breaking point that causes him to commit such an equally horrible mistake, most likely self-destructive. However, Jon needs to be alive to witness the aftermath for angst purposes.

Please Jon, get therapy. Don't let the story hurt Tim! I genuinely enjoy his personality, for as little as we get to see of it.

[celosiaa]

hi i just found your blog and I love it?? so much??? you're a super talented writer!! if you want prompts: i'm a sucker for Tim and Jon being friends (or ex-friends) in hurt/comfort scenarios (but if you prefer Martin that's fine too!!) so how would you feel about Tim asking Jon for a favor despite that he knows he hadn't been feeling well the previous night, and Jon agreeing because he's JON and making Tim regret even asking lol. if you don't like this, I can try again!!

I!! Loved!! This!! Prompt!!!!  Literally so honored to receive a prompt from you!  Hopefully this will do it justice. :) 

This is set at the very beginning of season 2, before Jon gets super paranoid.  Tim’s thoughts are formatted in italics.

“Closing tiiiime, one last call for alcohol, so finish up your whisky or beeeer!!”

Martin rolls his eyes at Tim where he’s draped himself across his desk, singing both passionately and tunelessly into an air microphone.

“Closing tiiiiime, you don’t have to go home but—”

“Tim, it’s only just quarter past noon!  I hate to tell you, but we’re a long way from closing time, mate,” Martin giggles, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“Yeah, well, that just means it’s lunch time!  And it’s your big day!  So—where are we going?”

Martin’s grin falters ever so slightly.

“Er, well…actually, I don’t know if—”

“No no no, you do not get to back out of this one.  You’ve got to celebrate!  It’s not every day a man gets cleared for top surgery!” Tim replies fervently, sitting up properly on Martin’s desk.

Martin sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face.

“I know, and I really appreciate it Tim, it’s just…Jon asked me to look over some stuff, and I’m already behind because of my appointment this morning, and…you know how he can get.”

“…yeah.  Unfortunately.”

Tim glances over at Jon’s office door, which is fully shut with the blinds closed.  Truth be told, he’s been worried about Jon since he came back from leave.  The man had always been a little reclusive, a little awkward, but…this was something else entirely.  Nowadays, his door remains perpetually shut, intentionally closed off from the rest of the archival staff—and Tim doesn’t like it one bit.

He’s broken out of his reverie by Martin’s stomach growling.

“Ooh, sorry—”

Tim claps his hands together with a grin.

“Ha!  That settles it, then.  I’ll give him a distraction and he won’t even notice you’re behind,” Tim replies jovially.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.  It’s a good one, I’ve been saving it for a time of need.  Leave it to me.”

He gives Martin a wink as he stands, knowing that it will make him blush—and he’s delighted to be proven right, pink rising at once beneath his dusting of freckles.

Nothing if not predictable, Tim thinks with a fond grin.  As he passes by his desk, he grabs the file he’s been saving for the past few weeks and raps on Jon’s door.

No reply.

Tim’s brow furrows at this, concern beginning to rise.  He calls out and raps on the door again.

“Jon?  You okay?”

Still nothing.  He can’t hold down the anxiety rising in him now.

Something’s wrong.  Fuck.

“I’m coming in.”

He swings open the door, heart pounding, praying to whatever gods there may be that he’s not about to find Jon on the floor, covered in worms again.

The room is entirely Jon-less.

Sweet Jesus.

Tim takes a moment to breathe, allowing the panic to settle back in as he leans over, bracing his arms on his knees.  Squeezing his eyes shut, he fights back against the onslaught of memories—worms, blood, infection, pain, pain, pain—that flood incessantly through his mind.

He’s not here. 

He’s not here, and he’s fine.

You’re fine.

You’re fine.

Taking one last grounding breath, he stands to his full height, rubbing at his shoulder where the worms had dug into it as he exits the room.

Alright, you bastard, where’d you run off to?

He checks the break room next—not because he thinks Jon would be there, but because Sasha may know something he doesn’t.  As usual.  To his utter surprise, however, there stands Jon—leaning heavily against the countertop, fixing himself a cup of what looks to be more honey than tea.

Tim can’t help but laugh, causing Jon to jump at the unexpected noise.

“Ha!  Caught in the act!  Finally decided to take matters into your own hands, did you?  Martin will be so upset!” he booms, leaning casually against the door frame.

Jon’s only reply is to glare daggers at him over his shoulder, before turning back to his “tea” with a sniff.  Tim’s smile falls in confusion.

Odd.

Sweeping his gaze over Jon, he notices with rising alarm the way he’s braced against the countertop, his left leg shaking even as he leans onto his uninjured one.  Even more concerning is the presence of his cane, also resting against the counter within his arm’s reach—as Tim knows he doesn’t typically use it to walk short distances within the office.

Ooh, this is…not good.

He softens both his voice and posture carefully as he approaches.

“Jon?  You alright?”

Whipping his head back around, glare still in place, Jon sneers at him.

“I’m fine, Tim.  Leave off.”

Tim’s eyes go wide, and he steps back slightly, hands raised in consolation.

“Woah, boss.  Jesus.”

He remains frozen for a moment, unsure of how to proceed.  As he watches, pondering, Jon’s hand shakes so badly that tea sloshes over the rim of his mug, and Tim’s had enough.

“Jon, really.  You’re shaking.  Are you in pain?” he says lowly, crossing his fingers that this gentle tone won’t earn him a chewing-out.

Jon sighs and looks up, a gesture Tim recognizes as a plea for patience from whoever is listening.

“I said I’m fine, Tim.  Just leave it, please,” he says, his words carefully measured.

As Tim inhales to reply, Martin steps through the doorway, freezing for a moment when he sees Jon’s attempt at making tea.

“Oh!  Jon!  I was just about to make some.  Sorry I didn’t get it to you this morning, I had to—”

“I don’t need excuses, Martin.  And I can make my own tea.  Just get back to work,” he snaps viciously, never turning around to look at him.

The way Martin’s face falls at this sparks an anger in Tim that he hasn’t felt in a long while.

“Oh.  Um.  Right, sorry.  I’ll just—I’ll just go then.  Sorry,” he stammers as he hurries out of the room face beet red.

Oh, that’s it.

I’m going to kill him.

Jon at least has the graciousness to blush, regret pooling ever so slightly behind his eyes.

Tim throws his arms wide, glaring at him.

“You’re really going to snap at Martin, right in front of me, and not expect me to get angry?”

Sighing yet again, Jon does not reply, refuses to look at him.  Tim’s ire only grows, and his tone steadily ticks upward until it’s very nearly a shout.

“You know, if you paid attention to anything he’s told you, you’d know that he’s been trying to get an appointment with that top surgeon for nearly a year.  He’s been counting down the days on the office calendar for months, and he finally had it today, and you can’t even be bothered to remember?  To cut him any slack?  Are you joking?”

Jon meets his eyes at last, his glare sharp and cold.

“I do pay attention.  More than you know,” he hisses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Jon looks away once again, staring into his tea.

“Just…just tell me what you wanted, Tim,” he says, his voice nearly a whisper.

God, I could punch him right now.

He throws the file he’s holding on the counter instead.

“You know what?  Fine.  I was just starting to feel sorry for you, and I was actually going to fix this problem for you.  But since you insist on being a complete arse, fine.”

He points forcefully toward the file folder.

“There’s an inconsistency with the date on this statement and the follow-up.  I tried everything I could to reconcile it, but we just need more data.  I need to know if there are any other statements about this house or the surrounding area so I can cross-reference them.”

“R-right, I’ll take care of that,” he says, voice still low, and takes the file. 

Tim’s anger very nearly abates when he reaches for his cane, then limps slowly and painfully to sit at the breakroom table.  But he cannot shove it down, no matter how much he wants to.

No, you know what? He can deal with whatever this is himself.

He ought to feel ashamed.

He can’t keep speaking to us this way.

Steeling himself, Tim locks his gaze on Jon once again.

“Look, I’m taking Martin to lunch today, and I don’t care if he’s behind on his work.  I don’t care what you think of it, either.  He deserves to celebrate, and you can just sit here and wallow.”

He turns immediately on his heel and strides out the door to collect Martin.

---

(7am, the next morning)

The brewing cold of autumn seeps into Tim’s bones as he walks from the gym, freshly showered and aiming to drop his things off at the Institute before grabbing coffee with Sasha.  It’s the first time he’s worked out on his own since he was discharged from physical therapy, and he cannot deny his frustration about the performance of his weakened muscles—muscles that had once been so strong.  Still, it had felt good to be back, and Tim had certainly not gone easy on himself.

Perhaps I should have, he thinks, feeling the shoulder beneath the strap of his gym bag beginning to seize up.

Dumping his bag on his desk, Tim flops down unceremoniously into his chair.  He can’t help but wince as he rubs at his sore shoulder, finding with dismay that he can no longer turn his head to the left without sending shooting pains to the base of his skull and across the top of his shoulder.

Damn it.  Overdid it again.

He spends a few minutes this way, breathing through the pain as he works his fingers over the knots, over the countless scars—testing his neck’s range of motion every so often.  It helps in part, but he ultimately finds himself still unable to turn his head by the time he’s finished.  He groans in frustration.

As he does so, a sharp sound echoes from deeper within the archives, and Tim is immediately set on high alert.

Fuck fuck fuck

He stays stock still, eyes blown wide, listening for any indication that something unwelcome has joined him here today, when—

A series of harsh, painful-sounding coughs floats from the direction of Jon’s office, where a light has been left on.

Vicious anger flares up in Tim instantly.

Oh you have got to be kidding me.

Standing up in a rush, he marches over to Jon’s office door, which stands partially open.  There sits Jon, hunched over his desk, staring intently at the pages scattered across it without really seeing them.  The deep black under his eyes tells Tim that, without a doubt, he has been here all night.

And he is furious.

“What the hell are you doing, Jon?”

Jon’s head snaps upwards, expression momentarily widened in shock, before it melts quickly back into his usual scowl.

“I’m only doing what you asked me to do, Tim,” he rasps, voice sounding decidedly small.

“I did not ask you to stay here all night,” Tim fumes, his hand slamming down angrily on the corner of Jon’s desk.

He jumps again, and guilt twinges in Tim’s chest—a twinge which deepens the longer he regards Jon’s complete bewilderment.

“It’s…morning?”

Silence hangs in the air for a moment as they stare at each other. 

Something’s wrong. 

Tim tries to swallow down his concern, remembering that he’s supposed to be angry.

“Look.  If I tell you to go home, are you going to listen to me?”

Jon drops his gaze at once, picking at the scars on his hands.

“Right.  That’s what I thought.”

Tim shakes his head briefly, looking away for a moment in frustration, when his eyes land on a small, wrapped present set on a shelf—on top of which stands a handmade card.  Squinting at it, Tim can just make out the front: “Congratulations” is scrawled across the bottom in forcibly-neatened cursive, above which sits a messy drawing of a Highland cow, shaggy hair hanging down over its eyes.

Tim quirks a smile at this, his anger dissipating immediately.

“That for Martin?” he asks, jerking a thumb toward it.

Jon looks up, eyes bleary.

“What?  Oh—yes, yes it is.”

“What is it?”

“Er—just some tea from my family in Jordan.  It’s…quite good, actually.  I thought he might like it.”

Tim is grinning smugly now, doing his best impression of a Cheshire cat while leaning over Jon’s desk.

“What an interestingly personal gift, Mister Sims.  In fact, one might even mistake it for flirting—that is, if you’re capable of such a thing.”

Predictably, Jon’s face flushes beet red at this, and Tim’s entire body tips back in laughter.

“I—you—it’s not flirting, Tim.  But I will have you know that I am capable of doing so, when I wish.”

Tim laughs again, so utterly pleased with himself at how flustered Jon has become.

“Right. Of course, silly me.”

After a moment’s silence, Jon sighs and rubs a hand into his temple, and Tim knows that the fun is over for now.

“So?  Do you want to come grab a coffee with me and Sasha?  Might do you good to get out of this place for a moment.  Maybe get some caffeine and try to look a little bit less like death warmed over.”

Jon shoots him a sharp glare, which Tim thoroughly enjoys, before turning his eyes to his cane where it rests against the desk.  Considering it for a moment, he worries at his bottom lip before reaching out to grab it.

“Fine.  If you—”

“If I insist, right.  And I do.”

“Alright.”

Jon braces his left hand against his desk, the right gripped tightly around his cane, and lifts himself to half-standing.

Panic laces up every nerve in Tim’s body when he gasps, shifting all his weight to his good leg and swaying alarmingly.  He grabs onto him immediately, steadying him by the upper arms with some difficulty.

“Woah, Jon, woah woah—”

Jon blinks rapidly, face growing ashen.

“Sorry, I…” he trails off at once, eyes closing.

“Sit back down, here—sit down, Jon.  God.”

Tim guides him back to his chair as the cane clatters to the floor, forgotten.  His eyes remain closed as he sits, prompting Tim to shake him gently by the shoulder.

“Jon?  You with me?”

After a few moments, he opens his eyes obediently, moving to nod before thinking better of it.

“Sorry, just—head rush.”

Tim rolls his eyes and stands to his full height, placing his hands on his hips.

“Bullshit.  What’s wrong with you?”

Jon holds out his hands, palms facing up.

“Nothing!  Just…change in the weather.  Affects my…affects my leg, that’s all.”

As he says this, something that looks suspiciously like a fever chill runs the length of his body.  Tim snorts in derision.

“Right.  Sure.  And there’s nothing at all to the fact that you’re literally shaking right now?”

Jon’s eyebrows furrow in annoyance at this. 

“I’m not—”

He breaks off as he looks down—finding that he is, in fact, shaking.

Unbelievable.

“Right.  I’m going to ask you again, and you’d better not lie to me.  What’s wrong with you?”

At this, Jon sighs, looking away with an expression that shows he’s at least considering honesty.  

Suppose that’s all I can ask for.

His considerations are cut short by coughing, which he muffles quickly with both his elbow and his closed mouth.  Tim can’t help but wince at the sound—so dry and wheezing and painful that he can almost feel it in his own throat.  As the fit comes to an end, Jon lowers his elbow and heaves out a wet sigh.

“Just…not feeling well, that’s all.  It’s nothing.”

Tim is momentarily shocked by the candor of that statement, and feels his chest swell with responsibility.

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Though he knows Jon will be distinctly annoyed by it, Tim places a hand on his forehead—quickly realizing what a useless thermometer his hand makes.  Jon scowls up at him especially unpleasantly.

“What, it works in the movies!” he says defensively, dropping his hand.

Jon’s scowl only deepens, but he remains silent.

“Fine.  I’ll just go get the thermometer, then.”

Tim walks quickly toward the break room to grab the first aid kit, which he knows Martin has recently restocked with just about everything his money could buy.  Tim had made fun of him for it at the time—both for the absurd nature of his worry, as well as the extremely limited number of potential office uses for things such as a satellite phone—but now, he felt nothing but gratitude for his foresight.

Should really listen to Martin more. 

Maybe then I wouldn’t have ended up with worms in my shoulder, and I’d still be able to turn my head properly.

He grabs the thermometer and walks briskly back down the hallway, hearing Jon’s coughing resume—the painfully hollow barking no longer contained by his shirt sleeve.

Jesus, he sounds awful.

When he arrives back at Jon’s office, he finds him braced over his knees, trying to catch his breath in the wake of his fit.  Every inhale is drawn heavily, his lungs seemingly starved for oxygen. 

Tim’s worry grows with every passing second.

“Alright, Jon, put this under your tongue,” he orders, holding the thermometer in front of him. 

He takes it resentfully—but puts it under his tongue nonetheless.  They wait for a few moments in silence, Jon struggling to breathe through a blocked nose until the thermometer beeps, and Tim takes it out to read it. 

“38.3.  Not too bad, but most definitely there.”

Jon does not reply, instead dropping his head as he resumes pulling in labored breaths in through his mouth.

Christ.

Tim sighs, replacing his hands on his hips.

“Alright, Jon.  What else is there?  Besides all of—” he gestures vaguely at him— “this, and the hacking up a lung?”

It appears that Jon had not heard him, his breaths still coming in heavy and wheezing.

“Hey.”

Tim snaps his fingers in front of Jon’s face and kneels in front of him, trying to draw his gaze.

“Hey—look at me, Jon.  What else is there?”

His eyes turn vague and glassy as his breath hitches, catching a few times before he turns, grabbing wildly at the box of tissues set on his desk.  He manages to press one against his nose just in time, facing away from Tim as he sneezes thrice—harsh and wet—before it morphs steadily back into awful barking hacks.

Jesus, Jon.

Tim shifts his weight back to sit cross-legged on the floor, waiting out the fit with his head resting against his fist.  Nearly half a minute goes by before Jon turns back to him, still visibly shaking.

“Leg hurts,” he whispers weakly.

Tim lets out a soft laugh.

“That much I gathered.  Head too?” he asks as Jon begins to rub at his temple again.

Jon only sniffs and nods in response, closing his eyes.

At this, Tim stands, folding his arms sternly across his chest. 

“You should really go to a clinic, Jon.  You look absolutely dreadful.”

“I’b fide, Tib,” Jon mutters, and Tim can’t help but outright laugh.

“Ha!  Sure.  You’re right, case closed, totally not struggling to breathe or anything.”

Jon glares at him once again before reaching for another tissue, blowing into it with some difficulty and little relief.

Something about his misery pulls at Tim’s chest, and he takes pity.

“Really, boss, that looks like the flu to me.  And if you won’t do it for yourself, then take one for the team and go home.  You don’t want to get us ill, I can promise you that.  Then you’ll find us even more insufferable than usual, me especially.  And yes, that is a threat.”

The corners of Jon’s mouth quirk up faintly at this, and Tim feels like he’s won the lottery at last.

“Fide.  I’ll go.”

“Excellent.”

Tim picks up Jon’s cane from where it’s fallen to the floor, handing it to him and bracing the opposite elbow as he stands.

“Come on, now.  There we are.  Have to get you out of here before Martin arrives and starts fussing.”

Jon huffs out a laugh, a genuine smile spreading across his face.

“Tim?”

“What?”

“Isn’t that what you’re doing right now?”

Tim sputters in mock indignation, jaw dropping as he turns to face Jon.

“How dare you even suggest that?  I’d never do such a thing.”

Jon’s shoulders shake with muffled laughter as they walk, and Tim feels like the luckiest person in the world to be able to witness it.