#jon over the morning tea: you know i'm never hungry for breakfast when i sleep over. isnt't that strange?

[tideswept]

Midnight snack

clearly: vampires.

okay, no, I'll try to reach for slightly higher fruit. But not too high, because quite frankly I'm short.

You didn't specify a pairing and I cannot ask for clarification but my brain has gone to TMA? I'm so sorry if that's not what you meant! But uh, spoilers warnings for the Magnus Archives and the general fuckery that goes hand in hand with JonElias. If you know you know.

Jon doesn't realize he wakes up in the middle of the night and turns to Elias, eyes fathomless, dark, not black, because black implies something, and this is nothing.

And Elias is prepared for these moments, for these growing pains, because he is nothing if not dutiful about shaping this burgeoning archivist, his last archivist, so frail and fearsome and terrified and terrifying.

He takes the statement out of the book he's been reading. Secret compartments? No, no, that's not his style at all.

Not only that, but Jon's nature is to seek out secrets. So Elias really isn't hiding anything; he makes good use of each statement he tucks into the book, they're excellent bookmarks. He's even offered the book several times to Jon, who always rolls his eyes and waves him away. He really doesn't like magical surrealism novels. Silly man.

"Ah, yes, here we are." Elias smooths the folds of the letter out and puts on his reading glasses. The glow from the nightstand lamp is tinted yellow, almost triggering a nostalgia for candles.

Jon stares blankly through him, all hunger and voiceless demand. Elias is tempted to put his fingers to those dark pupils, find out if they don't sink in like one of Rayner's or Simon's puddles, unthinkably deep.

He clears his throat. "'Dear Jonah, I pray this missive finds its way to you with all due haste...'"

📚 [send me a made-up fic title and i’ll tell you what i would write to go with it;]

🍓 [quick jump to ask inbox]