#mags tings

[kala-basaa]

At least he’s portable now 👍

Happy Clown Week y'all~ 🤡🎉

Also, I'm pretty sure that this is the only version of Jack that Mags can tolerate.

❤️💛💙

lil’ jingle jack belongs to @jjellyfisharts

[fratttymatty]

The Bro And The Babe

(All characters are 18+)

Sam Goldberg adjusted his glasses nervously, peering over the top of his laptop in his cluttered apartment. "Maggie, do you ever wonder if there's a parallel universe where we’re, like, the exact opposite of ourselves?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Maggie Kane rolled her eyes and flexed her biceps casually, her workout tank stretched tight over her muscular shoulders. "You’re really spiraling into one of your sci-fi tangents again, aren’t you?" she teased, setting down a protein shake and leaning against the table.

The two had been best friends for over a decade, bonded over their shared love of comics, progressive activism, and long, caffeinated discussions about queer theory. Sam was a self-proclaimed nerd who could quote Star Trek in Klingon, while Maggie, with her shaved undercut and love for lifting, was equally passionate about gaming and LGBTQ+ rights.

That evening, as Sam researched theories about consciousness and parallel dimensions, Maggie scrolled through Reddit on the couch. Suddenly, an ad popped up on both of their screens: "Transform your life forever! Click here for an experience you’ll NEVER forget!"

“Ugh, spam,” Maggie muttered, but Sam was already clicking. A blinding flash of light erupted from their devices, and everything went black.

When Sam woke up, he felt… off. Like, seriously off. His entire body tingled, his clothes felt tighter, and his thoughts were foggy. He glanced down and nearly screamed—except the sound that came out wasn’t his usual nervous stammer. It was a deep, confident, carefree bro laugh.

“Yo, what the actual heck?” he muttered, except it came out as, “Duuude, what’s even happenin’, bruh?”

He staggered to his feet, stumbling over a pair of sneakers he didn’t recognize—chunky white Nikes. Glancing down, he realized he was wearing a tight tank top that showed off his absurdly muscular, tan arms. His glasses were gone, replaced by perfect vision. His old face? Gone too—now replaced with a chiseled jawline, sharp cheekbones, and a boyish, smirking charm.

He caught his reflection in a nearby car window and gasped. “Daaaang, I’m lookin’ so rad, bro!” He flexed his biceps instinctively. “Wait… what’s happenin’ to me?”

“Like, OH MY GOD, what is even goin’ on right now?” a high-pitched, bubbly voice squealed nearby.

Sam turned to see a girl—no, Maggie—only… she was unrecognizable. Gone were her muscles and practical workout attire. In their place was a slim, tanned, barely-18-looking blonde with bouncy curls, a bright pink crop top, and a dangerously short skirt. She had a cheerleader’s pom-poms in one hand and a glossy pout on her lips.

“Mags?” Sam asked, his deep voice cracking.

“Ew, who’s Maggie? Like, my name is Madison now, duh,” she replied, twirling a strand of her hair. Her eyes were wide and vacant, as if her usual sharp wit had been erased and replaced with… bimbo vibes. “Wait, who are you? Ohmygawd, you’re, like, sooo cute!”

“Madison? I’m Sam, your best—uh, wait…” Sam scratched his head, his memories slipping away like sand through his fingers. “No way, I’m, like, Brad now. And, uh, I guess we’re totally supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend or somethin’?”

Madison giggled and clapped her hands. “O-M-G, Brad! Like, yeah, we are!” She grabbed his arm, pressing herself against him. “You’re sooo strong, baby!”

Brad couldn’t help but grin. “Yeah, babe, I, like, totally work out all the time. Gotta keep the guns lookin’ sick for football season, ya know?”

Madison nodded enthusiastically. “OMG, totes. And, like, I’m soooo pumped for cheer practice tomorrow! We’re, like, gonna crush it at the pep rally.”

Their old lives—Sam and Maggie, the nerdy, liberal best friends who championed justice and intellect—were completely erased. In their place stood Brad and Madison, a carefree high school jock and his bubbly cheerleader girlfriend. Neither had any desire to question what had happened or return to their former selves. Their new identities were as comfortable as the sun-kissed, athletic bodies they now inhabited.

Brad and Madison strolled hand in hand through the high school parking lot, the sun gleaming off Brad’s newly tousled dark brown curls. His hair, which had always been fine, straight, and perpetually disheveled in his Sam days, now bounced with a voluminous, carefree energy that seemed to match his new persona. Madison giggled, running her manicured fingers through it.

“Babe, your hair is, like, so dreamy now,” she cooed. “It’s like you’re in one of those rom-coms I totally love!”

Brad smirked, running a hand through his own curls. “Yeah, it’s pretty sick. Totally matches my whole vibe, right? Like, natural curls for the win, babe!”

Madison squealed in agreement, flipping her own bouncy blonde hair over her shoulder. Not only was her hair now platinum and shiny, but it somehow always seemed to be perfectly styled, as if she had just left the salon. Gone were her practical, low-maintenance buzzed undercut and dyed streaks—replaced by soft, flawless waves cascading down her back.

As they reached the entrance to school, a group of students waved enthusiastically. Their new friends were waiting: Chad, the quarterback; Ashley, the head cheerleader; and Brittany, who always carried a Starbucks cup and scrolled endlessly on her phone.

“Yo, Brad! Dude, where were you yesterday? We missed you at the gym!” Chad called out, giving Brad a fist bump.

“Yeah, for real,” Brittany chimed in, snapping a photo of Madison. “Madison, your outfit is, like, soooo cute today. And OMG, you two are legit couple goals.”

Brad grinned. “My bad, bro. Had to help my dad with some, like, backyard stuff or whatever. Totally made up for it with extra squats this morning, though.”

“Of course you did, bro!” Chad laughed, clapping Brad on the back.

Madison jumped into the conversation. “Oh my God, you guys, I was, like, totally thinking—what if we make a TikTok to, like, pump everyone up for the pep rally tomorrow?”

Ashley clapped her hands excitedly. “Yes! You’re sooo right. We could do one of those dances—like, the trending ones!”

“Totally!” Madison squealed, pulling out her phone.

As the group planned their video, Brad caught himself admiring how easily they all fit together. It was a far cry from his and Maggie’s old days of debating social issues in coffee shops or campaigning for progressive causes. He shrugged off the thought as easily as brushing sand off his shoulder.

Later, at lunch, Brad and Madison sat at the “cool table,” surrounded by their friends. The conversation turned to the upcoming student government elections.

“Honestly, I hope Jacob wins for class president,” Chad said, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. “He’s got the right ideas about, like, cutting funding for those lame clubs no one cares about.”

Madison nodded, sipping her diet soda. “Yeah, like, why should the school waste money on dumb stuff like, um… science fairs? We totally need more spirit weeks and cute uniforms for cheer instead!”

Brad nodded in agreement, surprising himself with his own words. “For sure, babe. And, like, don’t get me started on all the stuff they spend on those nerdy STEM kids. They should put that cash into, like, upgrading the football field or whatever. Priorities, ya know?”

Chad grinned. “Preach, bro. Sports are what make this school awesome!”

Madison clapped her hands, delighted. “Exactly! Like, if people wanna be all nerdy and boring, that’s fine or whatever, but they shouldn’t take away from, like, the stuff that makes school fun!”

After lunch, Brad found himself in the locker room with Chad and the guys, preparing for practice. As he slipped on his jersey, he noticed how natural it all felt—joking with his teammates, flexing his biceps in the mirror, and strategizing for the next big game. Meanwhile, Madison was across campus, huddled with Ashley and Brittany as they debated which glitter eyeshadow would look best for the pep rally.

At practice, Brad caught the ball effortlessly, his natural athleticism shining. “Nice catch, bro!” Chad yelled, slapping him on the back.

Afterward, Brad and Chad sat on the bleachers, cooling off.

“Dude, life’s pretty sick, huh?” Chad said, grinning.

“Totally, bro,” Brad replied, sipping a sports drink. “Like, no worries, no drama. Just football, babes, and hanging out. What more could you ask for?”

That night, Madison was sprawled out on Brad’s bed, flipping through a glossy fashion magazine while Brad played Madden on his PS5.

“Babe,” Madison said suddenly, “do you ever think about… like, deep stuff?”

Brad paused the game, looking at her. “What do you mean, Mads?”

She twirled a strand of her hair, her brow furrowing slightly. “Like… I dunno. Sometimes I get this, like, weird feeling that I used to care about… other things? Like, boring stuff. Science, or whatever.”

Brad shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “Nah, babe. That stuff’s lame. You’re, like, perfect just the way you are now. Cheerleader Madison is, like, the ultimate you.”

Madison’s face lit up with a bright smile. “Aww, you’re right, Brad! You always know what to say.”

Brad grinned, pulling her close. “Course I do. Now c’mere—game’s over. Time for some quality time with my girl.”

As the two leaned back, laughing and playfully poking each other, the faintest flicker of their old selves might have stirred in the depths of their minds. But the feeling was fleeting, drowned out by the overwhelming simplicity of their new lives.

Because Brad and Madison didn’t need to wonder or analyze anymore. Life was perfect. Simple, sunny, and carefree. And honestly? They wouldn’t have it any other way.

A week later, Brad and Madison found themselves at the beach, their favorite hangout spot after a long day of football and cheer practice. Madison adjusted her pink bikini and squealed, “Brad, let’s, like, take a selfie! We’re, like, the hottest couple at school, duh!”

Brad smirked, slipping an arm around her tiny waist. “For sure, babe. Gotta show off how shredded I am, ya know?” He flexed dramatically as Madison snapped photos with her phone.

The two sprawled out on their beach towels, sipping soda and laughing at dumb jokes. Brad stared out at the ocean, his mind blissfully empty. “Man, I’m, like, so stoked for the party tonight. Gonna shotgun, like, a million beers.”

Madison giggled. “Brad, you’re soooo silly. But, like, don’t get too crazy, ‘kay? I need you to, like, carry me when my heels hurt later.”

“Anything for my girl,” Brad said, planting a kiss on her lips. For a moment, a shadow of their old selves flickered, like a ghost of Sam and Maggie trying to break through. But it was quickly drowned out by the pounding surf and the warmth of the sun.

As the waves crashed against the shore, Brad and Madison held hands, their new lives stretching out before them like an endless summer. Nerdy, progressive Sam and Maggie were gone for good, and neither Brad nor Madison cared to remember them.

“Life’s, like, sooo perfect,” Madison sighed.

“Totally,” Brad agreed. And together, they watched the sun dip below the horizon, lost in their carefree, simple happiness.

[papaya-twinks]

your dirty little secret - l.n

Warnings: Angst, swearing, arguing, cheating, Lando says some VERY offensive shit to Y/N

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Y/N wants to go public but Lando doesn’t

@papayadays yay daughter

“Awww, Lan, look,” you said, holding your phone  under his nose, “Charles and Alex have gone public,”. Lando hummed to himself, vaguely pushing your hand away as he scrolled through his phone. “Lando,” you repeated, frowning slightly. “Yeah, cool,” he said absent-mindedly, ducking below your hand. “Lando!” you snapped, grabbing his phone and slamming it down. “What the fuck?” he snorted, reaching for it, making you fling it onto the other side of the bed. “Got your attention now, haven’t I?”.

“What the fuck are you doing, Y/N?” he repeated, eyes locking on yours. “Can’t you take a hint?” you mirrored his coldness, standing up as he stretched his legs out, watching your every move. “I don’t wanna go public, Y/N,” he groaned, rubbing his forehead. “Why not, why are you ashamed of me?!” you cried, making him scoff. “I’m not fucking ashamed of you, Y/N, it’s to protect you,” he rolled his eyes, standing up. “I don’t need your protection, Lando, I don’t live off of you,” you snapped. “Yeah? Well it looks like you fucking do, doesn’t it?” Lando snorted. 

“Oh yeah?” you said, blinking back the tears slightly. “What?” he furrowed his eyebrows. “Well, fuck you, fuck your career, fuck your stupid fucking…fuck everything, and fuck this relationship,” you whispered, enough for him to hear as you turned around. “Y/N, if you leave you’re not coming back,” he warned, following you down the stairs. “That’s the idea, sweetheart,” you laughed sarcastically. “Y/N, love, please,” his cold exterior melting as he realised you were genuinely dumping him. “Fuck off,” you groaned, taking your bag in your arms. “No, you are not leaving,” he said, grabbing your wrist firmly as you shrieked. “Get off!”.

“Why am I your dirty little secret, Lando?” you spat, refusing to let the tears that were brimming in your eyes to spill out. “What? What the fuck are you in about?” he sound completely oblivious. “Am I not good enough? Is it coz im not a model?” you sniffed, wrenching your hand out of his grasp as he narrowed his eyes. “You’re rucking MAD, Y/N,” he said slowly, looking you up and down as you scoffed. “I’m mad? Fucking tell that to Magui or whoever!” you snapped, one of the drops in your eye falling, beyond your control.

“Mag- Y/N, she’s just a friend!” he said, almost sounding offended, as if he had any right to be. “Yeah, right, friends who sleep in each other’s beds?” you said, outraged at his statement. “What are you on about?” he said again, a light pink tinge coating his cheeks. “Next time, make sure you don’t leave her stupid earring on my pillow!” you laughed sarcastically, opening the drawer beside you. “You think I’d wear this?” you dropped the ornament into his hand. “Y/N, she dropped it, I was-,” he started as you cackled. “Dropped it on my pillow? Along with her bra?” you cooed, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Y/N, I-,” he started, sounding like he was pleading, before his whole face changed, “maybe I wanted a girlfriend who isn’t so…pathetic,” he gestured vaguely at you. There it was. That’s the moment your entire world collapsed in front of your eyes. Your face relaxed from the astonishment, jaw slacked at his words. “Okay, Lando Norris,” you smiled softly, his face contorting into confusion at your reaction, “enjoy,”, you brought your lips to his cheek, grazing the surface before you turned around, leaving the house. You were never going to go back there.

Oh, and for the record? Magui cheated on Lando twice. Guess no one wanted a twisted, conniving, narcissistic jerk as their boyfriend.

A/N - @papayadays DIDN’T KNOW I LOVED WRITING ANGST SM, IS THE EDIT BETTER?!

[moethewriter]

Your fics are so so so good. I love the introspection so much. Could you do #30 on the angst prompt with finnick, if you want? thank you!

Hey Anon! Thanks for the compliment! Of Course I can. This one actually took me a hot second to think of an idea for! But I hope you enjoy it! -- TITLE: The Things We Need Most WORD COUNT: 1.1K WARNING: Fighting, not sure if anything else is worth noting under here but if there is let me know and I'll change it! TAGS: Introspection cause its me, fighting and arguing, two idiots being idiots. READER IS FEM CODED!!! Only because it made the most sense with the plot that came to mind! SUMMARY: Sometimes what you needed most was right in front of you ... A/N: Hello again all! The reader in this is fem coded just for the sake of the plot, it made more sense! Thanks for enjoying my work so far everyone! Hope you enjoy this one too, and as always I take constructive criticism so please feel free to leave that!

“You can’t tell anyone.” You said, furiously crossing your arms as though you were a petulant child arguing over bedtime. You thought if anyone could understand, he would, but apparently you had thought wrong.

“The hell I can’t!” He laughed, a small harsh little laugh that didn’t suit him at all. He was looking at you, his eyes boring into your soul, holding nothing but hurt, fear and frustration in them.

“You think I’m going to sit here and let Mags or Annie go back into that arena? Absolutely not, I can’t let that happen.” You snapped, a red tinge growing over your face as anger filled your bones. “You can’t seriously think that either of them are even prepared to step back into there. You and I both know that they’re not! So get off your high horse and keep this secret like I asked you too!”

When you had been reaped, Mags had been your mentor. Finnick had tried to disagree but with the friendship you two had, you knew it wouldn’t be wise. If he lost you, like you had almost lost him, he would be distraught. You were distraught when he had left for his games, nothing seemed to be okay after that. 

But Mags had stepped up, and she got you every sponsor she could. She took care of you and helped you make it out of there alive, back to Finnick, to her and your family. 

You hadn’t met Annie officially until you had turned eighteen, and she, seventeen. Finnick had introduced you both and you had clicked instantly. She became like the sister you never had and then it became the three of you. Annie hadn’t returned the same after she had been reaped and won her games. But Finnick and you had always been there for her, and you would be there for her now.

“If I march in there and tell them what you’re doing, you think they’re going to allow you to put your life on the line for them! They would never allow you to sacrifice yourself for them, you know!” He shot back, running a hand through his hair, roughly. 

“It’s not their choice, Finn! It’s mine. I am actively making this choice alone. You can’t sit here and seriously say you wouldn’t do the same!” An exasperated laugh passed through your lips, as you looked away from him.

Obviously no one wanted to be in this situation, everyone had been promised to be left alone after they had won. Of course Snow could never allow that for any Victors, with how he operated with them after the games. He couldn’t let his little puppets not be punished, he was incapable of sympathy.

“I would take their places in a heartbeat, you know! I would never have any of you going back there if I could!” Finnick said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Neither of you could stand to look at one another, both far too worked up than the situation called for, in your opinion. For the first time in a very long time you didn’t understand what was going through his head. Why was he shooting back at every opportunity, did he think that there was a chance you wouldn’t survive, did he not have that faith in you anymore?

“If you think I’m incapable of doing this, then you need to tell me. Don’t sit there and bullshit your way around things and not give me an answer to why you don’t want me back there. Because I know it’s not just because you're worried.” You said, a cross look passing over your face. You were done yelling, and fighting. You just needed to know what was going on. “If you can’t tell me then you need to let it go, and not tell anyone what I’ve told you here tonight. You need to respect me enough to keep that secret like I’ve asked of you.” 

He looked at you, biting his lip gently. He hardly did that anymore.

“Y/N.” He sucked in a deep breath, preparing himself. “It’s not that I think you couldn’t do it, or wouldn’t be strong enough. You’re the bravest person I know, and one of the strongest. I guess in a way this is selfish … the reason I don’t want you back there. I can’t lose you. We’ve almost lost each other at least once … I can’t feel that again.” He whispered, and you could see the tears welling in his eyes.

“But I can’t be okay with losing Annie or Mags, Finnick. I’m barely okay with the thought of losing you.” You reached out to cup his face, gently.

He looked so much younger like this, more like the boy you had met all those years ago.

“I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

“I …. Finnick.” Your voice was tinged with sadness, and you had no idea what to say at this moment.

Finnick had never left your side from the moment you two had met. He had been there through every single major moment of your life. The day you had your first heartbreak, when you had broken a bone, he had held your hand through the reaping ceremony. He was the piece you had been missing. You couldn’t remember life before him, though you were sure you wouldn’t want to. He was everything to you.

And somewhere between then and now … perhaps you had both fallen in love with one another.  

Of course you had loved Finnick from the moment you had been ten years old, when he had challenged you to a swimming contest and you won. You hadn’t embarrassed him, or that’s what he had always said, but you ended up taking a liking to each other. .

From that moment on you two had become inseparable, there was never one of you without the other. He had changed your life for the better, and you had always hoped you made an impact on his too. 

“I love you too.” You admitted after moments of silence. “I think I always have but there was never a right time to say it.”

“No time like the present.” Finnick chuckled, small and gentle. His hands came up to cup yours, warmth radiating from him.

“I don’t think days before the reaping of the Quarter Quell is the best, but I’ll take it.” You smiled. “Kiss me?”

All he had needed was permission. He leaned down, gently slotting his lips with yours as you brushed your thumb against his cheeks.

Minutes felt like seconds and before you knew it he had pulled away from you, eyes no longer shining with tears but pure … love and joy.

“If you go back in there, both of us are coming out. Got it, L/N.” Finnick said, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

“Got it, Odair.” You laughed against his chest. 

You didn’t know what the two of you did next, you barely had a clue of what would happen tomorrow … but this was the start of something beautiful. You could feel it.

[granddaughterogg]

Captain John Price comforts you

SUMMARY: You're going through Something (TM) and your commander offers you a hug and some kind words. Wholesome fluff with a tinge of simmering attraction. (Is it mutual? Who knows?)

Captain Price is an extremely perceptive man. He may be quite literally carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, but that doesn't mean he can't spot when one of his men (or women) is in a bad way. You were hoping that both your face – unsightly red from all this crying - and your general wet cat aura would have escaped his attention. No such luck.

"A word with you, Private?"

"Yes Sir," you sighed obediently. You have survived a week from hell, and now it felt like you've been called to the principal's office. What could your impressive commander want from you? You didn't particularly feel up to the challenge.

The door of the Captain's office closed behind you with a quiet click, but to your ears, it sounded like the swish of a guillotine.

Price circled around his desk, perpetually cluttered with paperwork. He produced a cigar from his pocket, glanced at it - and then put it back. He seemed to struggle with something, which was strange for such a quick-witted and decisive man.

Finally, he sighed, ran a hand over his face and leaned his shapely bum against the edge of the desk. You waited patiently, keeping a proper distance and staring at your boots.

"Tell me, Private…" 

That honey-smooth voice of his always disarmed you. So rough, so well suited to shouting orders amidst battle, and yet so warm. Like a caress dipped in steel.

Sometimes you imagined him using this voice while talking to his children - two mythical beings whom you've never met. It was meant to stay that way.

"…Are you all right?"

The question blindsided you. You lifted your head abruptly and gave him a wide-eyed stare. You could feel the damn tears already welling up.

You hadn't expected this. You were ready for remarks about the quality of your work, which has diminished lately. For a succinct rebuke even - Price didn't like to prolong such things. 

You didn't expect concern.

He obviously noticed that something odd was going on with your face. It would be hard not to.

"Oh dear." Price stated, cutting you a worried look with those tired blue eyes. "That bad, huh?"

"Sir." You swallowed, desperately trying to cook up some excuse that would be halfway plausible (Something got stuck in my eye.) 

"I'm…"

"I prefer not to pry into things that are none of my business, y'know," the Captain admitted, sticking both hands inside the pockets of his regulation breeches. 

"But it just so happens that you're a part of my squad and therefore you're my business. Your well-being is my business, Private. For the past few days, I've seen you slouching around, bumping blindly into things. You've stopped reacting to Sergeant MacTavish's unsavoury attempts at humour. Yesterday at the shooting range you tried to stick the wrong end of the mag into your rifle. If you go out in the field like this, you'll get hurt."

So he did notice that, too? Damn that old man. Your face was burning.

"So understand well what I'm going to say now, Private…" Price took the damn cigar out of his pocket again and twirled it in his fingers. "I realise that a young woman such as yourself might not want to confide in someone like me. You don't have to confess all your sins, but for God's sake, if you're struggling...with anything, really…then say so."

"Sir." The lump that has been long stuck in your throat finally thawed. Compromising moisture trickled from your eyes.

It was impossible to lie under that inquiring, steely blue gaze. The man oozed with embarrassment. He didn't want to do it any more than you did, but he felt that he should.

Captain Price was such a decent man. It's a shame that decent men are always married.

You decided to repay him with honesty.

"Indeed I have not been at my best lately, Sir," you said in a trembling voice. "Last week's been…difficult, for personal reasons."

"A crisis, eh?" Price sighed and began rummaging through his pockets again.

Your head darted up. "A clusterfuck of crises, if I may say so, Sir."

His chuckle was a raspy little thing. Pleasant. Frankly speaking, every noise that Captain Price ever emitted was pleasant to your ears.

"Eh, haven't we all been there? Here. You could use this."

He extended one of his long arms, firm yet slender, placing an immaculately clean handkerchief in your hand. Like nothing else in Price's possession, it was snow-white and smelled of fresh laundry.

You accepted it and wiped your face in silence.

"I'll give it back as soon as I wash it," you assured him. "And thanks."

"Never mind." He gave you one of those smiles which lit up his whole face, turning those blue peepers velvety and narrow. John Price must have laughed often because he had charming, deep wrinkles around his eyes. 

"Say, Private, would you be interested in a hug?"

You gasped at the idea. On the other hand...

"Yes, please," you declared, smiling at him through the tears. "As long as you don't mind having a wet spot in the front of your uniform."

"My vanity won't stand for it." He spreaded his arms, still grinning. 

"Come 'ere, girl."

You did.

It was a strangely solemn moment. He hugged you slowly, clearly trying his damnedest to avoid any impropriety that might arise. Price smelled like gunpowder, like those cigars of his and some musky cologne – all of the above mixed with the faint undertone of sweat. It was an intoxicating mix. You knew better than to imbibe on it, but it was hard to avoid it while the strong arms of your superior enclosed you in a warm, prolonged embrace. You chased the anxious thoughts away and just enjoyed the here and the now.

"Better now, huh?" He muttered from somewhere way above your head. Price was so much taller than you.

"Yes, Sir..." You whispered into his crumpled green shirt, faded from the desert sun.

"You know, it always feels like the fuckin' end of the world when those things happen...breakups, I mean. But it never is."

He chuckled ruefully. 

"As my ex-wife said when she was fed up with me: It's easy to find a replacement!"

You returned to your quarters fully soothed, warmed up - and stunned by the discovery.

Ex-wife?!

EX-WIFE???

[voiddaisy]

The Victors of the Hunger Games

So when I get obsessed with a new thing, I literally need to know everything about it, even if that means making shit up. Thankfully, that means I can produce some decent, accurate content, so here that is! I made a list of all of the “known” Hunger Games victors. The canon ones are bolded, but the rest of them are named based on their district (I got the name inspiration from this naming guide). 

Huge credits to @one-mopeyboi for this idea!

I know that canonically Districts 1 and 2 have the best chance of having a lot of Victors, so I made sure that was represented, as well as when the career programs began (I have a headcanon that after the career programs were implemented, Districts 1 and 2 went on a winning streak for years). This is similar to District 4, though I think that their “career system” is hugely different than the first two districts, so they probably had fewer victors. I included statistics at the end (how many victors came from each district, genders, ages, etc..).

During the first ten games, even though District 2 didn’t have a career program, I think they still had a lot of victors due to them being the defense and masonry district -- possible peacekeepers-in-training could have been reaped, or just kids who grew up around weapons and fighting. That’s why they appear so much in the first ten years, even though the first ten years were so disorganized! 

I also gave some of my favs last names based on my interpretation of their characters, much like Suzanne Collins put a lot of time and effort into naming other characters! I’ll explain their last names when they come up!

A lot of canon victors had a range in which they could have won their games, so take any victor marked with an asterisk (*) is an up for interpretation -- add or subtract five years from their set date in this list and you should still be in the ballpark in which they won their games. Also, the ages at which they won their games are speculated and headcanons mostly, so do with those what you wish!

Ominis Jing / D1 / M18

Indigo Andrews / D8 / M16

Severus Florez / D2 / M17

Hercules Caine / D7 / M15

Atticus Gomez / D2 / M18

Vizio Everest / D3 / M18

Beatrix Regime / D2 / F17 (First female Victor)

Selerate Vega / D6 / M17

Nucleo Lamont / D5 / M18

Lucy Gray Baird / D12 (Covey) / F16 (MEMORY ERASED)

Mags Flannigan (nee Navarro) / D4 / F18 (Possibly implemented the career program in District 4 a few years after her win, and after Districts 1 and 2 implemented theirs. This is a headcanon of mine!)

Mercury Chow / D1 / M17 (Marks the beginning of “Career Districts”)

Remus Prasio / D2 / M18 

Sterling Ryfe / D2 / F18 (First time a district had a Victor two years in a row)

Victoria Argyros / D1 / F17

Cicero Shale / D2 / M16

Woof Damask / D8 / M15 *

Makari Perch / D4 / F17

Pompeii Rhine / D4 / M18

Octavio Pyrite / D2 / M17

Nyx Maelstrom / D4 / F15

Night Raleigh / D7 / F17

Ardor Maron / D1 / M18

Ting Harta / D1 / M16

Celestia Dean / D5 / F17

Seeder Harrow / D11 / F15 *

Aphrodite Penz / D1 / F18

Ceres Tritt / D9 / M16

Parsley Citron / D11 / M18

Aquarius Mokosh / D4 / M17

Spruce Hawthorn / D7 / M17

Willow Elwood / D7 / F15 (First winning streak of a non-Career district)

Olympio Knight / D6 / M16

Elixer Dynamo / D1 / M18

Lazurus Yuki / D2 / M17

Twix Serratos / D10 / M15

Tanzanite Valor / D1 / M18

Porter Millicent Tripp / D6 / F15

Tameo Swift / D5 / M16

Ciabette Pizelle / D9 / F17

Denver Propel / D6 / M16

Phyllite Hatch / D2 / F16

Beetee Latier / D3 / M16 *

Broze Aegis / D2 / M18

Chaff Pitaya / D11 / M17

Marrow Banker / D10 / M18

Wiress Latier (neē Neith) / D3 / F18 * 

Thetis Firth / D4 / M16

Cloque Madder / D8 / M17

Haymitch Abernathy / D12 / M16 (“First” D12 winner)

Brutus Castor / D2 / M18 *

Brasilia Cadillac / D6 / F17

Vestis Thompson / D1 / M18

Lyme Rabe / D2 / F18

Blight Page / D7 / M16 *

Emmer Graham / D9 / M18

Mirabelle Ortega / D11 / F17

Dahlia Celsius / D5 / F17

Eloquence Fleur / D1 / F18

Lennox Rodriguez / D10 / F17

Celia Khampan / D8 / F17 *

Enobaria Calypso / D2 / F15 (Calypso means hidden or concealed -- as an Enobaria lover who definitely sees past the whole “brutal” teeth thing, I definitely think that she has a lot of hidden rage towards the Capitol, even though people in District 2 notoriously side with the Capitol. Not only this, but she was seen running with Finnick during the breaking of the arena in Catching Fire, which I definitely interpret as she was either secretly working with Finnick or had some type of solidarity with him to be able to not attack him while running -- meaning she hid this tolerability from her district and the Capitol. I could make an entire post about Enobaria, but I’ll leave it at that.)

Gloss Mirat / D1 / M18 (Mirat means mirror -- Gloss and Cashmere were mirrors of each other -- two siblings going into the games seperately, then immensly regretting it as soon as they won for the same or different reasons. Then, they had to reenter the game together, knowing that one or both of them would die in the arena, but showing the Capitol excitement, anyway, because that is was District 1 taught them to do. They mirror each other and what their district wants them to be.)

Cashmere Mirat / D1 / F17 ^^

Finnick Odair / D4 / M14

Maze Targaren / D10 / M15

Augustus Braun / D1 / M17

Maida Pondaro / D9 / F18

 Cable Denoir / D3 / M17

Annie Cresta / D4 / F18

Johanna Mason / D7 / F17

Obsidian Trenton / D2 / M17

Lazulia Mace / D2 / F16

Katniss Everdeen / D12 / F16 and Peete Mellark / D12 / M16

NOT APPLICABLE

Victor Stats

District 1 Total Victors: 13 Male Victors: 9 Female Victors: 4 Average Age: 17 (17.54)

District 2 Total Victors: 15 Male Victors: 9 Female Victors: 6 Average Age: 17 (17.07)

District 3 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 3 Female Victors: 1 Average Age: 17 (17.25)

District 4 Total Victors: 8 Male Victors: 4 Female Victors: 4 Average Age: 16 (16.63)

District 5 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 2 Female Victors: 2 Average Age: 17

District 6 Total Victors: 5 Male Victors: 3 Female Victors: 2 Average Age: 16 (16.2)

District 7 Total Victors: 6 Male Victors: 3 Female Victors: 3 Average Age: 16 (16.17)

District 8 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 3 Female Victors: 1 Average Age: 16 (16.25)

District 9 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 2 Female Victors: 2 Average Age: 17 (17.25)

District 10 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 3 Female Victors: 1 Average Age: 16 (16.25)

District 11 Total Victors: 4 Male Victors: 2 Female Victors: 2 Average Age: 16 (16.75)

District 12 Total Victors: 3 (4) Male Victors: 2 Female Victors: 1 (2) Average Age: 16

ALL VICTORS Total Victors: 75 Male Victors: 44 Female Victors: 31 Average Age: 16 (16.7)

let me know if you spot any mistakes and I'll fix them!

[sentientsky]

“Do you really think this is a good idea?” Nina asked. “The poor guy probably just wants his space.” 

The other woman turned to look at her from up on the staircase. Maggie pushed a lock of blonde hair back behind her ear. “I mean,” she began, one foot positioned on the next step up. “We already have this.” She raised a travel cup of espresso in the air. “And after all, I think he could use some cheering up. It’s been like two months, right?” 

Maggie sighed resignedly and followed her up the stairs. “Okay, if you say so…”

They walked for a couple moments before coming to a stop in front of an apartment. All the other doors on the floor were painted a pleasant blue, she noted. This one, however, was a deep, rich black. Of course. 

From underneath the door, the women could hear music, something familiar and with a steady beat. Maggie raised her hand and knocked. 

Still, the music played on. And still no one answered the door. 

“He’s obviously busy, Mags,” Nina muttered. It didn’t escape her notice that the other woman flushed pale pink at the sound of the nickname. Nina’s heart spasmed a bit in response, and she had to force herself to focus. 

“I just—let me try once more, and then—” Maggie knocked again. 

A beat. 

Nina was ready to ask if they could leave when the lock on the door clicked open of its own accord. Well, alrighty then. They exchanged a look, and then Nina pushed open the door. 

Immediately, the onslaught of angsty pop music poured through the threshold. Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone,” Nina noted. She herself had played the same song more than once as a young adult, often in the throes of a breakup. 

The apartment itself was in complete disarray; papers and knickknacks strewn everywhere. Plants drooped sadly on the edges of the room. In the corner, a pile of CDs had been toppled over. Eccles cakes and half-chewed scones littered the floor. 

There, in the middle of the living room (which certainly looked lived in, Nina noted), Crowley was sat on the floor, legs all akimbo and arms thrown across the seat of a rather uncomfortable looking sofa. 

Maggie stiffened at the sight of him, holding the coffee cup between both hands now. The poor demon was dressed in boxer shorts and an ancient Queen t-shirt. His hair was bedraggled, brushing against his shoulders in loose scarlet waves. Juxtaposed to the devilishly cool “burnt out middle-aged rockstar” persona he embodied most  of the time, this new appearance came across as particularly disheveled. 

Nina hesitated, then took a step forward. The music still thrummed in her ears. “Crowley?” she asked, injecting as much kindness as she could into one little word. 

Head lolling, the demon looked up at the two women before him. For once, he wasn’t wearing his characteristic glasses. Maggie made a little sound of surprise at the sight of the demon’s golden snake eyes. They were a rich yellow—the same colour as Mr. Fell’s walls, Nina silently noted. It seemed Crowley hadn’t slept in a century, (did demons even need to sleep?) his undereyes tinged a pale purple. 

“Crowley?” Nina called out again. Maggie moved to stand beside her, leaning down closer to the demon’s level. 

Without warning, Crowley’s eyes began to flood with tears and he crumpled into himself. Oh. Oh no. They’d made it worse, they’d certainly made it worse. Nina had said that coming here was a bad idea. 

“That’s what Aziraphale used to call me!” he keened. His boxer shorts had ‘XO Gossip Girl’ emblazoned down the side. 

“I mean, that’s your na—” Nina began, but then reconsidered and dropped into a crouch to pat the demon’s shoulder, voice hushed and soothing. “There, there. I know. It’s going to be alright.” 

Maggie crouched beside her, and tried to offer Crowley the drink in her hand. He looked up for a moment, and there was a moment of recognition, his eyes scanning the takeaway cup. And then he burst into fresh tears once again. 

“That’s what I ordered the last—” he made a little hiccuping sound. “Ordered the last time he and I went to your café,” he wailed. The poor thing was inconsolable; Nina’s heart ached for him. In between ragged sobs, Crowley  extended his arm under the couch. There, it seemed, he had found a slightly droopy crepe that was…just shoved under the sofa. No plate, no nothing. Just crepe to floor. What the fuck. Don’t eat it, please don’t eat it, Nina chanted in her head. 

He ate it, of course, still crying. 

Kelly Clarkson finished singing, and the track switched. Now, a more upbeat tune rose through the apartment. 

It’s Britney, bitch. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen you eat anything—” Maggie began, reaching down to pick up a crumpled twinkie wrapper from the floor. And then, without warning, Crowley brought a napkin to his mouth and spat out a congealed mass of saliva and half-chewed dough. He sniffed pathetically and bundled it into a tight ball in his hand before tossing it somewhere across the room.

“Oh…” Maggie murmured, placing the wrapper back where she had found it. “Oh no.” 

Crowley looked up at the two of them with ragged eyes, glinting pale gold in the dim light of his flat. “Don’t even like the taste. But he likes ‘em, so…Who else is gonna eat’em, anyway? While he’s gone, you know? ‘S up to me” He sniffed again, wiping his nose with his sleeve. 

“Are you—” Maggie began, and her worried eyes flickered to Nina. “Are you drunk, Crow—Anthony? Have you been drinking?”

“And wha makes you think that?” he muttered. Nina cast her eyes around the room. Wine bottles littered the floor. The counters. One sat on the pedestal of a statue of an angel and a demon…were they supposed to be fighting, or…?? 

When she turned back to face him, he was drinking out of a curly straw. His cup read ‘MAMA NEEDS SOME WINE’. She sighed, and reached to ease it out of his hand. He pulled it out of her reach immediately, a disgruntled look clear across his face.

“Nooo, Az—Azira—a stupid angel gave this to me,” he all but hissed. “‘S vintage. 2004.”

The track changed again. Something slower, with a steady piano backing. 

My lover’s got humour.

She’s the giggle at a funeral…

At this, tears began to form afresh in the corners of the demon’s eyes. Nina stood up, looking for the source of the music. She’d had her fair share of sad music wallowing, but this was becoming unhealthy, surely. Over in the corner, a fairly recent sound system stood sentinel. She pressed ‘pause’ and ejected the disk. “What’s with this music?” she called across the room. 

In sloping handwriting, the CD read ‘bad bitches cry perpendicular to the floor’. Oookay then. 

“‘S a playlist I made. But everything I play in that godforsaken thing,” he motioned to the stereo system, “eventually turns into music by this one Irish fellow.” 

Nina wrinkled her brow in confusion. 

“Jus’ like the Bentley. But more straightforward, I suppose.” He took another sip from his drink, and the two women watched on as dark red liquid carried up through the loops of the straw.

“This isn’t healthy,” Maggie began. “I know it’s hard, and it’s okay to be sad. But we can try baby steps, right? D’you fancy coming down to the café with us? Maybe sit and talk for a bit? Get some natural light?” 

Crowley scrunched his nose and spat a piece of red hair out of his mouth. “M’ fine, really. Never been better. More independent, less—” he waved his free hand around vaguely, “mmgh…yeah, I got nothin’” He toasted them with his ridiculous white suburban mom cup. 

“You’re crying right now. And how long have you been wearing that shirt?” Nina asked. The thing looked lived in. By a family of possums. 

He looked down, squinting at wine stains that speckled the collar. “This is my best shirt.” He looked back up at them. “And ‘m fiiiine.” He reached one gangly arm across the length of the sofa and pulled out a pair of circular sunglasses. Putting them on, he peered up at Nina and Maggie. “See? Can’t even see the tears.” He smiled, but it looked more like a grimace. 

“Oh, hon. That’s not…” Maggie began.

“I don’t think that’s how that works,” Nina murmured. “Do you…” she looked around the room. Was that one of Mr. Fell’s sweaters hung over a chair? What had happened in that fucking bookshop? “Do you want to talk about it?” she finished. 

Three hours later, Nina realized her assistant’s shift was nearly finished. From what she understood, Mr. Fell had left (his husband? Boyfriend? Wife? Immortal life partner?) Crowley for a business promotion somewhere far away. Crowley, for his part, was perched on the edge of the couch, wrapped up in the angel’s sweater. He sniffled, and pressed on: 

“...And then it was 1967 and I was in my Beatles phase of course, because who wasn’t, honestly. And the bastard shows up in my car out of nowhere with a thermos. So I’m freaking out a little bit—in a very cool, suave kind of way, of course—cause this is one of the first times we’ve seen each other since the magic show,” he turned, looking between Maggie and Nina. “I told you about the magic show, yes?”

“Yes, you did,” Maggie muttered. 

“Several times. The one where he told you to shoot him in the face,” Nina interjected.

“Well,” he waved his hand around. “I didn’t actually shoot him. Scared the fuck outta me, but—oh, I still have the photograph, you wanna see?” He moved to stand up then. 

Maggie motioned for him to sit back down. “That’s alright. We’ll see it later—”

And he was off again, “So anyway it was 1967 and he’s in my car and he’s got a thermos and I’m all like ‘Are we gonna drink soup together? Is that tea? Cocoa?’ but noooo, he gives it to me and it’s fucking holy water. And he tells me he doesn’t want me risking myself. And—” his voice grew louder, more emphatic, “And he says ‘don’t go unscrewing the cap’. And by this point my stomach’s all in wobbly-wibbly fluttery knots and ‘m asking myself ‘what the bloody hell are we’ and I hate it ‘cause I’m a demon, right? And angels aren’t supposed to make you feel all—” he made a ‘pbttt’ sound and mimed a butterfly with his hands. Nina and Maggie exchanged a look. “Yeah. And then he says we should go on a picnic someday. Or to the Ritz or something. I’m losing my mind at this point, because is he asking me on a date? ‘M I out of my gourd? So, like any normal, reasonable person, I say I’ll drive him wherever he wants because then that means more time together which means more time to figure out this fluttery feeling or whatever. And guess what he says.” He looked at the two women seated on chairs in front of him.  “Go on, guess.” 

Maggie shrugged. “Sorry, no idea.” Nina shook her head.

“He says,” he leant forward on the couch. “He says ‘You go too fast for me, Crowley.” The poor demon let out an anguished groan and his head fell into his hands. Maggie reached forward to pat him on the shoulder. 

[It went on like this for some time. They eventually got him to go to the park where he inadvertently began a duck cult; that is, a cult whose members consisted solely of ducks. Not a cult of humans dedicated to worshipping ducks. That would be stupid.]

this silly little crack fic is brought to you by me and my good omens brainrot (neil im in your walls). if u want to read my more serious stuff, you can find me furiously scribbling away in this corner of the internet: x

(side note: this particular story was inspired by a hilarious post from @miss-americanbi)

[soulofapatrick]

Heart’s Desire 2/2 - Simon Lewis x female reader

Summary: after talking with Alec you go find Simon

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: non really; a little angst

Y/N’s POV

As I step into the familiar confines of the institute, Simon tailing behind me like a lost puppy, his presence a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside me. The air is heavy with tension, a silent reminder of the events that unfolded in the Seelie Court, and I can’t help but feel a knot of guilt tightening in my chest. 

Jace is the first to notice our arrival, his keen eyes narrowing as he takes in our somber expressions. He raises an eyebrow in silent inquiry, a silent question hanging in the air like a sword waiting to fall. "What happened?" he asks, his voice laced with concern. "Why is Clary so mad and upset?”

The weight of his question hangs heavily between us, and I swallow hard, the guilt threatening to suffocate me. How do I even begin to explain the tangled mess of emotions that led us to this point? How do I put into words the conflicting desires and fears that churn inside me like a tempest?

I glance at Simon, his expression almost pleading, and I can feel the weight of his uncertainty pressing down on me like a leaden blanket. It's as if he's bracing himself for rejection, for the inevitable fallout of our tangled emotions now that we're back in the real world where consequences cannot be easily swept aside. I have to swallow hard before I turn back to Jace, the bitterness of my words tasting like ash on my tongue.

“Stupid Queen playing her sick jokes," I mutter, the frustration and anger seeping into my voice. The words hang heavy in the air, and I see Simon flinch, a small sound escaping him that feels like a punch to the gut. I shake my head, unable to meet his gaze as I grumble out, "I need to find Alec."

Without waiting for a response, I turn on my heel and head out of the main room, the weight of everything that's happened pressing down on me like a physical burden. I stride down the corridor towards the bedrooms, each step a deliberate effort to put distance between myself and the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume me.

As I push open Alec's door with a sense of urgency, the familiar sight of his room greets me, offering a sanctuary amidst the chaos of my emotions. But my respite is short-lived as Magnus lets out a sound of surprise, his eyes widening in astonishment as I enter unannounced.

“Get out Mags.” I say to him, my voice tinged with urgency, gaze unwavering as Magnus glances between me and his husband in bed beside him. 

“You can’t kick me out of my own bed.” Magnus retorts, a challenge in the raise of his eyebrow as he waits for Alec's response. But Alec merely tilts his head slightly, his gaze fixed on me with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. It's unnerving how he always seems to be able to read me like a damn book, seeing through the facade I try so hard to maintain.

As Magnus huffs in frustration, he snaps his fingers, and suddenly he’s fully dressed and climbing out of bed, his movements swift and decisive. “Fine,” He mutters, tone laced with a hint of annoyance, “I’ll go get some coffee.” 

With a swirl of his jacket, Magnus strides towards the door, leaving Alec and me alone in the quiet intimacy of his room. As the door clicks shut behind him, Alec still doesn’t move, his eyes fixed on me with an unreadable expression. It causes me to swallow hard, feeling a surge of vulnerability wash over me as I meet Alec's gaze. But there's no judgment in his eyes, only a quiet understanding that fills me with a sense of comfort and warmth.

Slowly, tentatively, I climb into the spot Magnus just vacated, curling up beside Alec with a sense of relief that floods through me like a tidal wave. His warmth envelopes me like a protective shield, wrapping his arms around me and I rest my head on his chest, focusing on the steady beat of his heart until I’m able to think straight enough to tell Alec what happened. 

“Simon kissed me.” I mumble, feeling Alec's eyebrows raise in surprise as he processes my confession. He knows all too well how much I've longed for Simon to look at me, not Clary, and the weight of that realisation hangs heavy in the air between us.

“Why don’t you sound happy about it?” Alec asks gently, his voice soft yet probing. He shifts slightly, turning to face me fully, his eyes searching mine for any hint of what’s troubling me about this all. 

I swallow hard, the guilt weighing heavily on my conscience as I struggle to find the right words. "It's complicated," I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, I wanted him to... but not like this.”

Alec’s brow furrows in confusion, his expression a mixture of concern and curiosity. "What do you mean?" he prompts, his voice gentle yet insistent.

I take a shaky breath, steeling myself for what comes next. "The Seelie Queen," I begin, the memories of our encounter at the court flooding back with painful clarity. "She made Simon choose... between Clary and me.” 

Alec’s eyes widen in understanding, the pieces of the puzzle falling into place as he realises the gravity of what I'm saying. "And he chose you," he says softly, a note of awe in his voice. 

I nod, unable to meet his gaze as the guilt gnaws at me like a relentless beast. "But at what cost?" I whisper, the words barely audible in the quiet of the room. "Clary... she might not be my friend but I never wanted to hurt her.” 

Alec reaches out, his hand finding mine in a gesture of comfort and solidarity. "You didn't do anything wrong," he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "The Seelie Queen's games are twisted and cruel. You can't blame yourself for her machinations.”Alec's words of reassurance wash over me like a soothing balm, offering a glimmer of comfort in the midst of my turmoil. His hand in mine is a grounding force, anchoring me to the present moment as I struggle to make sense of the tangled web of emotions that threaten to overwhelm me.

“You’re right,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I can't let the Seelie Queen's games dictate my happiness." With a determined nod, I steel myself for what comes next, resolving to take control of my own destiny.

Alec squeezes my hand gently, a silent show of support and encouragement. "Go find Simon," he says firmly, his voice filled with conviction. "Tell him how you feel. Don't let fear or guilt hold you back.”

I nod, a sense of purpose settling over me like a mantle as I rise to my feet, determination burning bright in my heart. "Thank you, Alec," I say gratefully, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. "I don't know what I'd do without you.” 

As I make my way towards the door, Alec's voice follows me, a beacon of strength and reassurance in the darkness. "And remember," he calls out, his words a silent vow of solidarity. "You deserve to be happy."

With Alec's words echoing in my mind, I step into the hallway, my resolve firm and unwavering. It's time to face my fears, to confront the feelings that have long simmered beneath the surface. And as I set off in search of Simon, I know that no matter what challenges lie ahead, I'll always have my friends by my side to help me navigate the stormy waters of love and loyalty. 

As I turn the corner, the hallway seems to narrow, my heart pounding a frantic rhythm against my chest. And there, right in front of me, stands Simon, his presence both comforting and unnerving in equal measure. The air crackles with awkward tension, thick with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved emotions. It feels as though time has slowed, stretching the moment into an eternity as we stand there, locked in a silent dance of uncertainty.

Summoning every ounce of courage I possess, I take a shaky breath and blurt out the words that have been weighing on my heart for far too long, my voice a jumbled mess as nerves threaten to consume me. "Iwantyoutowantmeto." I falter, needing to gather myself before I continue, taking a deep breath and gripping Simon's hands firmly in mine. "I want you to want me too," I repeat, the words clearer this time, though my voice still trembles with a mixture of anxiety and longing.

As the words hang in the air between us, I watch Simon's expression shift, a kaleidoscope of emotions dancing across his features—surprise, disbelief, and something else, something that sets my heart racing with anticipation. And then, like the sun breaking through the clouds, his face lights up with a radiant smile, his eyes alight with a warmth that sends a rush of euphoria coursing through me like a tidal wave.

“You  have no idea how long I've waited to hear you say that," Simon says, his voice filled with a mixture of joy and relief. His words wash over me like a soothing balm, banishing the doubts and fears that have plagued me for so long.

Before I can fully process his response, Simon tugs me towards him, surprising me with the strength of his embrace. His arms wrap tightly around me, pulling me close as if he never wants to let me go. In that moment, I feel safe, cherished, and loved—a sensation unlike any other. 

As Simon pulls back slightly, his gaze holds mine with a captivating intensity, sending shivers of anticipation racing down my spine. And then, with a tenderness that leaves me reeling, he leans in once more, his lips capturing mine in a kiss that ignites a firestorm of emotions within me. 

His lips are soft yet urgent against mine, a silent plea for reassurance and confirmation of the feelings we've both harboured for so long. The kiss is a symphony of longing and desire, each brush of his lips against mine sending sparks flying through every fibre of my being.

As the kiss deepens, Simon's hands find their way to my waist, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. The corridor fades away, forgotten in the heat of the moment, as Simon presses me against the wall with a passion that steals my breath away. 

His touch is electric, setting my skin ablaze with longing as he explores every contour of my lips with a hunger that leaves me dizzy with desire. It's as if we're two stars colliding in the vast expanse of the universe, merging together in a blaze of passion and intensity.

“I told you to find Simon not make out with him in the hallways!” Alec’s voice comes from down the corridor as he leaves his room, breaking me and Simon apart, both of us blushing like teenagers, “I’m happy for you but no making out in the corridors.” 

“Yes sir.” Simon mumbles out, face going even redder after calling Alec ‘sir’.

“Alright Ali” I laugh.

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

"T" is For Tomb - a Magnus Archives one-shot

THIS IS A DARK FIC, OKAY?????

Post MAG-200 spoilers.

Jon. Jon is somewhere.

(Or Jon is nowhere, and he is imagining, he has gone mad, he’s landed where the Fears wanted to go and the Web decided and Jon is eaten, Jon is dust, Jon is—)

Jon is somewhere. Martin will find him (or what was the point of any of this), even if it takes a thousand years.

AO3

---------------------

“What do you want me to do with this?”

Footsteps, distant voices; the crunching of rubble, both falling and loose.

“Leave it. We’re done with tapes.”

Closer steps, grinding grandeur into dust. “Want me to smash it?”

Guilt tinges this voice now, guilt its owner wants to deny. “I think… we can probably just turn it off.”

“Okay.” That voice moves away.

The guilty one (only the smallest bit, only a little aware of what she’s done) approaches, and for reasons unknown, speaks. “If anyone’s listening…” The tape whirs, voices mumble, someone shouts to someone else. “Goodbye,” says she. “I’m sorry, and…” The guilt. It is there, but too late. This cannot be undone. “Good luck.”

#

Martin wakes screaming, and he wakes alone.

He wakes, bereft in terrible discovery of self-without-him in a place of ruination.

Jon! Jon! Jonathan Sims! Please, for the love of God, answer me!

Shouting into a sea of screams, loved ones crying for loved ones, an empty spot beside him where Jon should be. Jon’s blood coating his hand, the knife, his clothes. Jon’s life coagulating, going dark, gathering rubble and dust, less like blood by the hour and more like tar.

Jon! Please!

Martin hears him. He’s sure he does: Martin. Find me, Martin. I’m waiting for you.

But where? Where? How? Jon sounds as calm and inviting as he’d ever done in the weeks before Elias (no, Jonah) sent that letter and ruined it all.

But it's not coming from anywhere. There’s no direction. It’s outside Martin’s head (he’s reasonably sure), but he can’t find it.

Can’t find Jon.

At the end of the day, the first day, the last day, the first-next-day of hell, Martin faces the truth that Jon might be gone.

He refuses to swallow it down.

#

No one sees Martin Blackwood. Not as he is. Not as he was.

Basira does, sometimes. She’s vague about it, knows his name, does not seem to remember what he’s done or whose he is. The rest of the time, she looks through him. Like when he asks about Jon.

Perhaps that’s fortunate. He runs into her a lot, and is sure she would stop him.

His key works in his apartment door (and he feels guilt for leaving the site of destruction, guilt for abandoning the place where hides Jon’s voice, guilt for going to his nice, soft bed when others huddle on rocks that used to be flats and weep for those they miss).

He should be with them. Searching. Helping.

No one searches for him. No one helps him.

He can’t.

#

He goes back the next day. Wanders, calls. Sometimes Jon calls back– just his voice, that gorgeous baritone that first hooked Martin’s thoughts then affection then desire, once Martin had learned to speak Jon and understand how quirky his new boss was, to translate from brusque and maybe mean to he’s fucking scared and lonely so it all made sense.

He hears the voice, but it is further away, and that makes him panic.

He searches, overturning brick, plunging into risky crevasses and disintegrating doorways.

No one sees Martin Blackwood. He walks past police and emergency services, past fucking Basira (who is smug, who is in charge, who seems to think she earned something for putting down a monster, but Martin knows the only thing that earns is pain).

Jon’s voice is further. 

By mid-afternoon, Martin can no longer make out words.

By dusk, it’s gone. Gone. He never found a direction. 

Martin screams.

#

By dark, he doesn't even remember going home, but finds himself there, a path walked in emptied endlessness over many years, and the silence is Buried, constricting his lungs, and the silence is Vast, endless insignificance, and he cannot breathe  at all.

He bathes, and he prays to no one, and he lies in his bed. And he’s hot, and he sweats, and his heart burns within him, and his throat twists to something it ought not be, and his skin crawls with bugs he can neither find or kill.

Jon. Jon is somewhere.

(Or Jon is nowhere, and he is imagining, he has gone mad, he’s landed where the Fears wanted to go and the Web decided and Jon is eaten, Jon is dust, Jon is—)

Jon is somewhere. Martin will find him (or what was the point of any of this), even if it takes a thousand years.

#

Somewhere around day three, he realizes he has not eaten.

He doesn’t feel hungry. Should he? He didn’t feel hungry in the apocalypse, either (and memories of bringing tea, never drunk, break him down, crush him onto the sidewalk like preserved peaches), but after his weeping, Jon is still gone.

Martin will not stop calling.

Jon!

Nothing. 

Jon!

No voice. No—

Wait.

Jon?

There is… something. A touch, a breeze, a memory of breeze, an instinct that says Jon is not too far. Jon is alive. Jon is there. Jon is—

Jon is.

Martin runs. Runs, tripping over rubble and dandruffed concrete, at last fleeing the wrecked, wry circle of the Panopticon’s fall. He ignores Basira’s shout (of course, now she sees him), following not a sound not a sight not a knowledge but an instinct, something born of faith and will and maybe madness, something he will follow even if it is right off a damn cliff.

#

It is not dissimilar to the Apocalypse, in many ways. He runs until he can’t, then walks until something kills him (and nothing does), north, following that wrong and reminiscent beckoning, through roads clogged with abandoned cars and cracked glass and memories of terror.

And he has not eaten, and it does not matter. 

Jon.

#

The sun rises and sets and rises again, and Martin wipes his face to find he sweats but does not thirst, and wonders if he will die on this trip.

It does not matter. Maybe this is the last walk. Maybe today was the last of his final days alive, and if so, he does not care. He’s done.

He had to stab his beloved. He had to do the worst thing. What more can the world ask of him?

Jon.

He feels Jon. Senses.

He walks.

#

Sun rise.

Sun set.

Sun rise, sun set, sun rise, sun set, shoes worn, hole in sole in soul in mausoleum of thought and mind and pattern, and all he can do is walk. Nothing besides remains.

Sun rise. Sun set. And on the seventh day, like creation, not terribly far from Aberfeldy, he knows that he will rest.

#

He descends into the grassy valley, past the place where good cows once stood, but the cabin is not there. Something else is. He stares, stunned in ticklish grass that lightly scratches his dried, dirty hands, and stares some more.

It is a tomb.

Above ground (necropolis like New Orleans). Burnt and blasted, abandoned and rust-stained, and its dark, decorative door hangs wide open.

(He has neither drunk nor eaten since waking, and sure he must be hallucinating now at the very least.)

And Martin opens his mouth, and for the first time since waking, truly speaks. “Jon?”

Martin

on the breeze on his cheek on his lips skipping the bother of ears—

Martin come to me

Martin comes.

It’s over. The end. Whatever comes next in this helpless world is not his to do.

“I paid for my peace,” he says like dry bones, squeaking together under sun and gnawed by something dark. “I paid for my peace! ”

(And thinks, as his dirty, frayed trainer-toe just dips into the impenetrable shadow, that this is what They were waiting for, that They are bound to Jon and he to Them, and it should not have been possible to disappear into the Lonely since Martin woke up, but it was, it is, because something went wrong, and oh, it will go so much more wrong, but Jon waited because Martin wasn’t here, and once Martin is here, it will continue to wrongness, and Martin does not care, and Martin paid for his peace, and Jon did too, and maybe Jon’s peace is no longer what it was when he was human unstabbed alive appeasable —)

Martin, whispers the tomb-wet breeze.

“Jon,” he creaks in tomb-dry tone.

Martin

Martin steps into the dark, sees nothing, feels

Finds

“Jon,” he says, falling into familiar arms, into that known funny scent of ink and electronics and spiders, does not care that he is seen and stripped and flensed in this dark of all-sight, does not care about pain or grief or anything but this, does not care that (Jon died this is not Jon this is something else) whatever remains is enough of Jon to want him back, and what more matters now?

Martin paid for his peace.

Jon doubly so.

“I’m home,” Martin whispers, crumbles, disintegrates, rests, and as he is held, the door, in need of oil, screeches closed as the world finds screaming again.

-------------

Notes:

So, uh. This is my 200th fanfic. I did not exactly plan for it to be sad? Here we are, anyway! I'll create some proper fluff to make up for it. Scout's Honor.

[huffle-dork]

Swap into the CrystalVerse Chapter 2: Switch

Co-written with @crystalninjaphoenix

Read Swapboys | Read Switch | Read SwitchSwap | AO3 Link

Prologue | Chapter 1 Taglist: @brokentimewatch

It's not too long before two cars pull up to the train station. Out of the first one steps a tall dark-skinned person with chin-length hair. They talk with Anti briefly, demanding an explanation but accepting that this isn't the time and leaving with Will, who Anti gives a short hug before he heads out. And out of the second one--

"Why the FACK can we not have five minutes of peace in our goddamn lives?!" Schneep looks pissed and annoyed, but he softens when he sees Bro. "Ah... good to see you again, of course, but it seems there is bad news, too."

Bro shrinks a bit at Schneep's anger but he also can't help but laugh because, same. "haha- I feel that bro..." He then looks scared and bites his lip. "Yeah... I need to find Alt... who knows what Mag is doing to him... or to one of your guys- i think... he really wanted Jameson last time, didn't he?"

Jackie sighs. "Are you okay? Anti said something about you healing really fast, but I can take a look, if you want. I've patched up this guy often enough." He vaguely gestures at Schneep.

Bro then looks back at Jackie and tries to smile, lifting up his singed shirt. "Uh- you can try, if you like. I dunno if it's like... good or not. I don't really... get checked often. Gotta keep go go going, you know? Hero work is never done..."

Dr. Parker can see the edges of the burn are a bit darker, tinged green. But the main part seems pretty much filled with healing skin, raised and pink. A bit hot to the touch but also cracking and Bro squirms uncomfortably. "Fucking shit- god i hate how it itches, jesuss!"

"Sorry," Jackie mumbles. "I didn't really bring anything to treat ichiness." He crouches to get a closer look. "...well, it's definitely healing, but there's some green... tinge here. It might be because of magic. In which case, I'm not qualified to do anything.”

Bro nods and pushes himself to sit up straighter, "S'probably the magic- green fire sucks ass, it lingers a bit longer than I would like. But thanks for checking, Doc."

"No problem," Jackie smiles. "Happy to help. If you feel up to move, we should go meet up with JJ and Marvin. I think—"

Before he can continue, Anti's phone starts to ring. Well, not ring, it's on silent, but the vibration is loud and noticeable. "Shit, sorry," he says, pulling it out. He looks at the Caller ID and frowns in confusion. Then picks it up. "What is it? Whoa!" He holds the phone away from his ear. On the other side a man is yelling. "Fucking shit, calm down! You scared the bejeezus out of me. I—what? Sam? I..." He glances at the others. "Hang on, you all keep talking." He turns to the side and listens to the call.

Bro readjusts himself after being checked on and then jumps slightly at Anti’s exclamation.

"That is probably not good," Schneep mutters. "Neither is it good that Magnificent may be in our world." He laughs. "Though I do wonder now... He has other magic, but those tricks... I wonder if..."

Jackie gives him an odd look. "I don't think we should go testing stuff like that out. We need to come up with some way to get Chase and Alt home--and Magnificent, too."

Bro looks back and studies Schneep with curiously, "Wait testing what out? You got something you think could help against Mag, Volt??"

"Heh." Schneep gives him a wan smile. "Well... a lot has changed since we got sucked into your universe. I do not... wish to discuss it too much, but I will simply say that our villain's illusions and manipulation no longer works on me." If Bro looks close, he'll notice that Schneep is playing with his hands in an odd way. Running a finger down the side of his left hand.

Bro looks excited by this and he grins, "Hey! Maybe that will work- but... I dunno- Mag's magic is... weird. I guess- I dunno much about magic though."

“How'd you get here, by the way?” Jackie asks, “Anti didn't fill in those details in the group chat. Only something about Magnificent doing shit. Do you remember anything specific? If we want to get you back home, it'd be easiest to do it the same way... probably."

Chase looks back at Jackie and nods, "Ah right- so he... he took Alt from our house, puppeted him in a super horrible way that isn't.... like him- not unless he's desperate. and he was... cuz he found this like... doorway thingy- But he needed Alt to glitch to work it. He used his magic and alt's glitches and then there was like- an explosion and i... woke up on the train tracks." He then frowns and tries to remember, "mmm... i dunno if something like that would be here... it was in some shady basement of this fucked up agency we have in our world- calls themselves Sclera."

"That's a werid name for an evil organization," Jackie says absentmindedly. "What is a shlcerla? I mean--sclera?" He sounds the word out carefully.

Schneep sighs. "Jackie, I thought you were a doctor."

"I am! That doesn't mean I know everything! Why, do you know about a sclera?"

"I do." Schneep grins smugly. "I wondered if there was a word for it in English, turns out, yes. It is the white part of your eye."

Jackie is silent for a moment. "Part of an eye... Like an iris?"

Schneep's grin fades.

Jackie turns to look at Bro. "We might have something like that here. There's this group called IRIS, they study weird shit. Anomalies. They call them ALTRs. And they... do a lot of fucked up stuff besides that." He glances at Schneep, then quickly looks away. "Maybe they'll have something to help. I think... I think I heard about them talking about other worlds..."

Bro also seems to pale, gripping slightly over his heart. "... Sclera does that too- but... with magic." He narrows his eyes and thinks, "If Iris is like Sclera then.... then yeah- that might be our best bet..." He shudders though but tries to hide it. "God- I hate places like that though- fucking freaky scientific-messed-up bullshit..."

Schneep looks at him sympathetically. He opens his mouth to say something, but--

"Fuck!" Anti shouts, drawing everyone's attention. "Okay, take Sam home and make sure they're okay, okay?! The rest of us will check on them. Yes, I'm sure! Yeah! No, stay there. Don't--don't let anything happen to you." His voice softens. "Be careful. Okay. Bye." He hangs up and spins around to look back at everyone else. "Okay. So. Chase was right. Magnificent is fighting Jameson."

Chase zips up to his feet, eyes wide, "Oh no! I hate when I'm right!" He curses and then adjusts his utility belt, pulling out his phone and looks about ready to burst into the air. "Okay where is he?? We can't- we can't let Mag get him again!"

"He's by the bus stop by his house," Anti says.

"Fuck! That's far!" Schneep curses.

"Not if I run red lights!" Jackie's head snaps towards his car, then back to Bro. "Hey, can you fly or do you need a lift?"

Bro nods and shoots into the air to hover, "I'll fly ahead! I know the look of Mag's magic by now, just point me in the right direction!"

"It's that way!" Anti points. "West and a bit south. We'll head there on our own. Remember to text us if you need to, calls might not work!"

Meanwhile, Schneep grabs Jackie and starts pulling him towards the car.

Bro nods, storing away his phone. "Right! Be careful!" He then blasts into the air and follows Anti's instructions, trying to push himself to fly as fast as he- scanning the area below for any signs of magic.

"Good luck!" Jackie calls. Then the three of them run to the car.

-----------

That was risky, JJ says.

Marvin smiles at him. "But it paid off, didn' it?" He pushes his cards back into a single deck on the dining room counter.

I suppose. JJ pauses. He somehow...drained some of my magic. I still feel...weak.

"Really? Fuckin' bastard..." Marvin mutters, then frowns. "T'at shouldn' be possible, t'ough. It should've brough' you back to the state you were in before. Did I do somet'ing wrong...?"

JJ shakes his head. You didn't do anything wrong, he reassures him. This is just... tricky.

Before Marvin can respond, there's a knock at the door. "They're here already?" Marvin says, surprised. "Okay, I'll get it." He heads into the entrance hall and opens the door.

But instead of any of his friends, Alt Brody falls into their house.

Alt was resting against the door as soon as he knocked on it- and as soon as it opens he stumbles forward, his head heavy. But, it's momentarily cleared of fog as he raises his red stained face to meet Marvin's eyes. He's still gripping his arm, magic pulsing weakly. "...m'rvin... moore...?" He slurs, confusion clear on his face. Then, he feels a wave of dizziness crash onto him that has him falling towards the ground.

"What the--?!" Marvin shoots forward and barely manages to catch Alt. He almost falls himself in the process but stays up. For now. "Jems! It's--it's t'at Anti from the other world!"

JJ rushes into the the front hall. He gasps at what he sees. What's wrong with him?!

"I don' know! Ah--a little help?" His legs are starting to go out.

JJ nods and hurries over, transfering support of Alt from Marvin to him. Living room, he signs awkwardly. Marvin nods, and the two of them move into the other room, where they set Alt down on the sofa.

There's a voice in Alt's mind. So familiar. {This is good,} it says. {Do as you would for now. But that man with the mustache...you should try to get rid of him when you have the chance. Knock him out...or worse. That'd be good, too. That would make me happy~}

Alt's eyes seem distant as something whispers in his ears, letting the others take him and move him into the living room. Even when hes out on the couch, He's still for a second, staring out ahead. Then, he shakes out this head and looks in between Marvin and Jameson. He feels really sick, his body is shaking in a way he can't really control. But... he knows these guys... right? He weakly shakes his head again and tries to stop the trembling in his corrupted arm.

"Are you alrigh', lad?" Marvin asks.

"..hngh... n-no- not... r-really..." Alt pants, feeling faint and leans back against the back of the sofa. "M-Mag... Mag did somethin' to... to m'magic... s'hurts... and I... i dunno... what's...." His eyelids flutter like he's ready to pass out again but he shakes his head to try to stay awake. "m'broth'r... i... i needa find Chase...I... I gotta s-stop Mag..."

JJ frowns. Who?

"Oh! Yes, Chase!" Marvin nods. "He was the one who isn' here, remember?"

Understanding dawns on JJ's face and he nods. Yes, he's the one Anti mentioned. Don't worry, Alt, our Anti saw him, he's fine and on his way. He uses the same name sign for Alt as the Henrik in Alt's universe: A-lightning.

"As for Magnificent, the bastard..." Marvin grumbles. "I'm sure he'll be comin' to us sooner or later. We have time to prepare."

Yes, get some rest and recover, Alt, JJ adds.

Alt seems comforted by seeing a familar sign, his chest suddenly aching for his friend. But, Hen would be in danger here... its good he's still back home. He almost wants to nod to them- he wants to relax- when he stiffens, blood starting to try to leak out of his eye again.

{Just wait here? Wait for him to come for you? No, that seems like a bad idea, doesn't it? They're trying to stop us from going after him.}

"... w-we can't j'ust wait here... w-we'll be just s-sitting ducks! We... we gotta... gotta stop him... s'mehow..." Alt's brain was fuzzy on the details- god he'd give anything to use his magic right now. He needs... he needs to get rid of this corruption.

He looks up at Jameson, head fuzzy as its assaulted with suggestions. Knock him out. Or worse. Make me happy. get rid of him. "y... you... do you know how... how to get rid'f dark magic...?" He shakily holds out his arm to Jameson, showing off the claws marks that match the ones on his own. Though, Alt's seem much more severe, pulsing with purple magic with every tremor of his muscles. JJ's are dark like stains- more just a sign of what was used to steal his magic.

JJ tries to hide his alarm at the marks on Alt's arm--and the ones on his own. We don't have to deal with black magic on a regular basis like you do, JJ says, but I'm sure I have a purification spell upstairs somewhere. I can check my book of shadows.

"T'at's a great idea," Marvin says. "We can take care of t'at, and t'en we'll talk about how to stop Magnificent."

JJ nods. He turns and starts leaving the room, heading towards the stairs.

{Go with him.} The voice comes with a bit more of a push than the last times. Some fog rolls in with the command.

Alt doesn't hesitate to push himself off the couch, the command to follow JJ filling his head with nothing else. He doesn't even look at Marvin as he stumbles after the magician.

This was good... he can get this black magic fixed... and then get rid of the magician.

"Alt...?" Marvin stares, confused, as Alt follows JJ upstairs. It's not too weird, maybe he just wants to get the magic taken care of right away, but... Was it just him, or was there something... on Alt's face? Just in case, he hurries back to the kitchen where he left the cards.

JJ glances back at Alt. Oh, you want to come? Alright, I'd be happy to show you my workroom. He smiles and continues up the stairs.

The workroom is halfway through being reorganized, with some of the books on the shelves and desks where they're supposed to be and some on stacked on the floor around the central table. And on the table itself is a black crystal sphere, nestled on a purple cushion.

Alt nods to Jameson, and looks dazedly around the house and the workroom as he's lead through.

When Alt looks at the crystal, he sees flickers of other people's faces in the reflection. They all look familiar, and yet... different. Some are wearing masks. Some are children. And there's one with a slit neck, green strings holding it closed.

Alt pauses and stares at the crystal, eyes widening slightly as he saw the visions within them. What... what was-

But none of this is important.

Oh. It didn't matter. Any concern that was trying to surface was quickly stuffed under heavy fog.

JJ goes right for the desk, sorting through the books there until he finds what he's looking for. He then skims that book, and after a few seconds, smiles triumphantly. Hand me your arm, he says, putting the open book on the desk.

It takes a second for Alt to react to Jameson, more blood slithering down his face. But, he turns and wordlessly offers his corrupted arm to him, staring intensely at his face.

JJ gently takes Alt's arm. He hesitates for a moment, glancing back at the instructions in the book. His eyes start glowing a bright blue, and that same blue light encases his hands. He carefully presses his palm against the claw marks. A cooling magic washes over the marks. It takes a couple waves, but soon the corruption of the dark magic disappears.

There we are, JJ says, letting go of Alt's arm and smiling at him.

...Wait.

Something... Something is wrong...

Jameson blinks. He squints at Alt's face. What is...

It's blood.

Jameson gasps and takes a step back. How did he not notice it before?!

{Now.}

The second the black magic is cleared, electric magic builds up around Alt and he starts to glitch again. Then, he throws out a hand and sends a wave of blue green electricity at Jameson.

Jameson lets out a little squeak--the closest to a shout he can manage right now-- and throws up a clumsy shield. Luckily, it blocks most of the electricity. What gets through isn't enough to shock him. Alt, snap out of it! he signs, backing up. He doesn't have the magic for another fight after Magnificent drained him. And he doesn't want to fight Alt! Glancing around, he rushes for the open doorway.

That familiar sign has Alt hesitating, something trying to spark in his foggy mind. But, that hesitation quickly leaves as Jameson starts to run. Alt tries to glitch in front of him, throwing out more barrages of charged magic.

Jameson skids to a halt, surprised by Alt's sudden appearance. Before he can recover or try that new teleportation spell again, Alt is throwing electric magic at him. Again he tries to conjure a shield but the magic breaks through this time. This time he manages a scream as the magic shocks across his skin.

Downstairs, Marvin's head snaps up at the sound of JJ's cry. "Jems?!" he gasps. He runs for the stairs, tightening his grip on his cane and the cards, already thinking of what combination could help. Was it Alt? Had he really seen what he thought?!

Alt doesn't hesitate again to glitch towards Jamie- and this time he attempts to grab Jameson's neck and then throw him into the wall, pressing hard against his throat. There's no recognition in his eyes as blood pools out of them. He thinks he might hear another voice- but its faint and it doesn't matter. He needs to get rid of the magician.

Jameson gasps in surprise when Alt grabs him. He pulls at his hands, trying to pry them away before something could happen--!

And he manages to push Alt away just in time. He scrambles backwards across the floor until he hits the central table. The black crystal ball is almost jostled from it's spot.

A voice comes from down the hall. "H-hang on, Jems!" Marvin shouts. He's struggling with the stairs, pushing himself faster.

Jameson nods. He ducks his head and crosses his arms. A blue dome appears around him, wavering for a second before solidifying.

Alt tsks quietly under his breath and then lashes out and throws lightning magic over and over at the shield. Trying to get it to crack-

The shield shudders with every hit, but it doesn't break. And yet JJ knows it will only be a matter of time. He feels his strength failing.

"Jems! Alt!" And then Marvin rushes forward, almost collapsing in the doorway of the room. He takes in the situation quickly--yes, he thought it was something like that.

Alt pauses in his attack to turn towards Marvin, regarding him with a slight head tilt. He's panting slightly, sweat dripping down his face and his hands trembling. His magic is being depleted really quickly so soon after getting drained by that curse. Yet, he needs to keep going. He has to.

Quickly, Marvin bends over and places three cards on the ground in a triangle formation: Five of Diamond - Six of Heart - Queen of Spade

Jameson's shield is reinforced, curving golden lines running over itse surface in a geometric pattern. He breathes easier.

Marvin hears a voice in his head. {That's not really fair, is it? Have you forgotten whose side your on? Or are you too afraid to remember?} He flinches, pushing away the accompanying fog.

At the same time, Alt hears it say something different. {A friend of ours has lost his way...so sad. He shouldn't be here. Make him leave.}

.... he lost his way? Well... Alt hated using these spells but- if they needed to convince Marvin then... Alt flares out a hand to his side, and a collection of glitches forms beside him- and then forms a wobbly electric field of magic that swirls in hues of green blue and white. Though the edges are harsher than Mag's, the colors are soothing and easy to look at. Maybe they could just lull you to sleep... make you forget all your pain, just for a second.

Marvin isn't expecting it. He looks down for a moment, fumbling with the cards--he'll need to use five or more, he's not leaving this to chance--and when he looks up again... there it is. An electric spiral hovering next to Alt. What? How... strange. But... nice. Marvin's eyes trace the spiral's motion, the ever-inward movement. His eyelids feel heavy all of a sudden.

JJ sees what's happening. "Marv--!" he tries to shout, but it breaks off into a wheezing exhale. The reinforcement around his shield stays--it will stay until the card formation is disrupted--but Marvin's other cards flutter to the floor, followed shortly by him collapsing to his knees, eyes blinking slowly...

"Sleep." Alt drones out to Marvin, watching him coldly and emotionlessly, pushing magic into his words.

He thinks he hears something slamming open from downstairs- but he's focused on his task. Nothing else matters. He doesn't even consider anything else is wrong until suddenly he's being tackled to the ground, his head hitting it hard enough for him to see spots.

"O-Oh my god, Alt!" A man in a pink mask is gasping desperately over him, looking worried. ...why...? No no wait- he's... he's important- he's so so important. Alt makes a choked noise of pain, the fog in his head hurting all of sudden. No no no its hurts- why does it hurt?

"C- Ch...!" Alt tries to choke out, shaky hand trying to grab onto his jacket.

For the others- as soon as Jameson shouted out, Bro flew past a house with bright lights flickering in different hues in the windows. He recognized the color of some of them- and it wasn't Mag... it was Alt!

He hurried down to the door of the apartment then tried to doorknob- not wanting to cause too much damage to the house. By some miracle it was open and Bro skids in and looks around, shouting out, "Alt?! ALT!!"

He sees the hues of blue and greens and doesn't hesitate to fly up the stairs- and hovers just a bit above them to see his brother trying to entrance Marvin. He yells out and tackles Alt back farther into the room- the magic bursting into pixels as the two boys crash into the bookshelves in the corner. Marvin can feel the influence leave him like he's waking up from being underwater.

Marvin gasps, starting backwards. JJ stares with wide eyes at Chase and Alt. His shield finally disappears as he stands up and scrambles over to Marvin's side. He reaches down to help him up.

"I-I... what?" Marvin shakes the image of that spiral out of his mind. "Th-t'at was—he can do t'at...?" he whispers. Then he looks up at JJ. "A-are you... alrigh'...?"

JJ smiles weakly. I should be asking you that.

"'M... fine. Physic'lly." Marvin takes JJ's hand and lets him pull him to his feet. In unison, the two of them turn and stare at Alt and Bro. "Y-you're the—the hero from the other world. Chase. Chase!" Marvin shakes his head again. "Chase, Alt's bein'—Distorter's in his head, I—oh!" And then Marvin gets back down on the ground and starts gathering up the cards. "T-try to get t'rough to him, if you can', I-I can try somet'ing!"

Bro looks back at the others and seems to relax at seeing they're both okay. "H-Hey- glad you two aren't hurt-" He then makes a face and his eyes glow with hatred as he looks down at the power that's taken over his brother. "Right... that bitch. Okay- lemme see what I can do!"

{Shhh. Shhhh.} The voice hisses in Alt's mind, like the comforting sound of rain falling. {Don't worry. You don't have to worry about anything. Shhh. Let me take care of this.}

Alt's eyes glaze over more as the voice of his friend comforts him. His hand falls back down and he lays limply on the ground, head lolling to look out past Bro. Nothing but the sound of rain blanking his mind, like what he would listen to in his headphones when sound was too much. His mind is calm and still- Even though his body is panting and shaking and trembling- he can't feel it at all.

"No No! fuck- Anti! C'mon lil bro, stay with me!" Chase whispers desperately, trying to shake Alt's shoulders.

Then, Chase hears something in his mind, too. {Oh? So where were you when your brother appeared right outside my house? Where? Why weren't you there with him? You don't care, I see. You're right not to. He doesn't care about you. He barely knows you, really, he wouldn't give two shits if you just died.}

Bro winces as the voice slithers into his head. He closes his eyes and then growls out, "No shut up! I do care- we know each other better than anyone! You're the one who doesn't care- or you wouldn't be running him ragged!"

He shakes Alt more, pleading, "Alt c'mon! Wake up!"

"Shit," Marvin curses, watching Chase and Alt. He has all his cards gathered, now he just needs to find the right ones! "H-hang on, you two! Jems, can you--I-I dunnae, help t'em?"

Distorter doesn't respond to Chase, instead continuing to speak to Alt. {Look, Anti... it's Magnificent. He's right in front of you. It's time to show him how you really feel. You're so much stronger than him, right? I believe you are.}

Alt's eyes narrow and flood with green and blue magic as Distorter makes him see Magnificent in front of him. His shoulders start to glitch, electricity building up around him. He starts to latch back onto Chase- then his arm is grabbed and-

JJ looks Alt. He doesn't have much magic left right now, but he can try. Maybe... He steps forward, up next to Chase, and grabs Alt's arm. His eyes flare blue, and frost suddenly flares from the point of contact, flashing sudden cold through Alt's system. It won't work if he's too deep in, but maybe...

It's like the gray is blown away by an icy chill, startling Alt back into his own mind with a painful jolt. He gasps, back arching as the connection breaks. He slumps back towards the floor and dazedly looks back and forth between Bro and Jameson. "..h..how did I...?" He then winces and curls his face into the ground, groaning softly. "F-Fuck..! My head...!"

Bro slumps with relief and then lifts Alt up and crushes him in a hug. "Oh thank fucking christ! God... god.... you fucking scared me Alt..." He buries his face in his brother's shoulders for a bit before letting go and helping to sit against the floor. Alt just dazedly lets him, trying to take everything in.

JJ lets go of Alt, slumping in relief. He was so glad that worked. He was so worried... But it was fine. It was all fine. It was Distorter, he explains to Alt. You remember him, right? Do you... know where you are right now, Alt? And is there... anything you need?

"I...I'm..." Alt swallows shakily and goes to hold his arms and curls up on himself. It was really hard to piece things together- but... he knows these guys. JJ and Marvin... this must be... their world. Once he thinks this though, he remembers how they got here and he gasps, looking around at the others in panic. "M-Mag-! Magnificent! He's here- he's...! He's trying to get to other universes- and-!" He then takes in the slight claw marks on Jameson's arm and he looks back at him with a pale face. "... shit- did he already...?"

"Wait what?? He already got you??" Bro asks, looking at JJ with worry. "Fuck! I flew so fast to try to stop that! Damn that slippery cat goddd im gonna skin him one of these days!"

JJ looks down at his own arm. Right... the marks. He could feel the effects, but he forgot they were visible. I'm fine, he reassured them. He did... somehow drain some of my magic, but... I'll recover with enough time and rest.

"They're righ', t'ough," Marvin says from the doorway. "We need t'stop him before that bastard does anyt'ing too big to recover from. If you're goin' to skin him, tell me so I can join." He chuckled.

Well... Jameson pauses thoughtfully. If he was trying to get to other universes, he succeeded. I don't know what we're going to stop him from now.

"Uh, how 'bout we stop him from murderin' us? Or from whatever he did to you! Or from doin' all t'at..." Marvin waves his hands around his head. "All t'at shit."

JJ chuckled, then turned serious again. You're right. I suppose I'm just a bit tired. This was a lot. He turns to Alt and Chase. Our house is warded against all sorts of nonhuman intruders. Distorter can't get in, but Magnificent might be able to. We'll be safe... briefly. Do you know of anyone else from your universe who could be here? Or is it just you two and him?

"It's just us this time," Bro sighs, "He got the jump on Alt and made him use this- weird doorway thingy! He almost got away with just Alt- god that would have been bad..."

Alt shudders and holds himself tightly, "If i was drained doing the spell... then Mag probably was too... which is why he tried to find the nearest source of magic. Then he'd... god... I... I don't know... h-he made puppets of you all once but- not even as himself... That was Distorter too... I dunno if he'd stick around for that though... and i... i dont think he'd kill you all... not yet at least. He... He likes making people useful to him. Or keeping trophies..." He grips tighter on his arms, digging his nails in. "h-he might just be trying to get to the next universe somehow... since he's experienced this one... in a way." The glitch hates that he's been around Mag long enough to know his thought pattern but... he did work with him for a long time.

Bro makes a face as he thinks and then perks up, "Oh! Yeah! I need to message the others! They were gonna be driving here! Then they uh- they mentioned someplace we can try to see might have something to help- somewhere callleedd ah fuck what was it- its like Sclera!" He scrunches his face and looks up to think. "...what do you call the colored part of your eye?"

"Iris-" Alt mutters.

"Iris! Yeah that was it!" Bro whips out his phone and sends a text to Anti. I found JJ and Alt! Mag got to JJ but hes okay- and Alt was affected by Distorter... anyways! JJ and Marvin were here so i guess we're in their house :)

Marvin and JJ stiffen. JJ looks back at him. Do you think IRIS could help?

"I... s'ppose," Marvin mutters, shuffling his card deck. "Probably. Yes. They... like t'is sort of stuff. Time and space and all t'at. So the question is jus'... which one of their places we go to t'find somet'ing helpful."

I don't think either of us are... the most qualified to answer that question, JJ says.

Meanwhile, Chase gets an answering text: Great we're reall close then. Just a few minutes and well be there.

Soon after, JJ and Marvin's phones both ding. They take them out and read the text that Anti just sent THEM.

"They're on th'way," Marvin reports.

JJ nods. Let's all head downstairs and wait for them. He turns and looks at the bookshelves Chase and Alt ran into. He frowns. You've ruined my shelves.

Marvin bursts into laughter. "Is--is t'at really your priority?"

I've spent a couple days organizing them. That one's all...ker-fobbled now.

"Did ye really jus' spell out t'at nonsense word?"

Chase looks back up and then blushes, getting to his feet, "Ah fuck! I'm sorry! I just- acted on instinct! I'm not that tired i could reorganize them if you want!"

Alt glitches to his feet and then shoves Bro towards the door. "Let's focus on the important stuff, Chase- like getting back home and stopping the evil maniac thats skulking through town?"

"...oh yeah-"

Alt shoves him more out the door, "My god you're impossible... did you take your meds today?!"

"'course I did but a lot is happening, Alt!"

Alt rolls his eyes then glitches downstairs.

Marvin giggles. Then he stops. The others couldn't hear the voice he just did. {You know fixing this won't get rid of me. We're stuck together. Embrace it now.} After a second, he shakes off the uneasy feeling and finally stands up, using his cane as support. "Yea, let's all go downstairs. We can settle the IRIS t'ing t'ere when the others arrive."

Alt finds the same space the others put him on earlier and slowly goes to curl up, holding his headphones and hiding his face behind his knees. He never thought he'd be so far away from home without his mask...

Bro watches Alt vaguely then sticks by the others, ready to help if they needed it. He wants to make sure they get down okay first- especially with JJ looking so spent.

JJ notices Chase sticking by. He smiles at him tiredly. Don't worry, I'm not actually mad. It was an emergency. And I understand the, ah, mile-a-minute effect, if you know what I mean.

"We shoul' lock you and Jems and Jackie in an empty room, see how insane you all become," Marvin mutters. "C'mon, Mr. Fantastic." He starts walking down the hallway. A bit slower than usual, but he did run up the stairs. The energy had to come from somewhere.

That's a different superhero, JJ says, following him. A fictional one.

"As far as we know! If other universes are real, perhaps all stories are, too!"

JJ smiles. He glances back at Chase to make sure he's following.

Chase laughs and then hovers over the others as they go down the stairs. “Oh yeah! Jackieboy- the one from our universe- he’s a hugeee comic nerd- gave me an earful once about my name being so close to that guy’s but I didn’t know! I didn’t read comics?? I had like… rugby to play and shit- pints to drink…”

Ah, you were one of those uni people, huh? I don't know why I'm surprised. JJ smiles again. I was a theatre major, which, I'm told, says everything about me and how I acted in uni.

"Imagine goin' to a second'ry school," Marvin says.

You mean a university?

Marvin pauses. "Well, I finished primary school, at least." JJ raises an eyebrow. "Don' give me t'at look, do you know how hard t'at was to do under my circumstances?!"

I'm very proud of you, Marvin. Sincerely.

Bro touches down to the steps once he’s sure the others are fine and then glances back at the living room. He sees his brother all curled up and his heart aches. He slowly makes his way over and sits down next to him. He waits a beat- then opens one arm to Alt’s backside but doesn’t move, waiting to see how Alt would respond.

Alt blinks up at Bro and seems to hesitate. But then he slowly adjusts so he can lay his head on Bro’s shoulder. Chase wraps a light around Alt’s back and the glitch seems to relax some.

“….I hate this.” Alt whispers weakly to Chase, trying to hide the frustrated tears wanting to leak out of his eyes. He scrubs hard at the drying blood on his face.

Chase closes his eyes and leans against Alt’s head. “I know…”

“I mean… im… im glad to see these guys again… just…” Alt shudders and curls up more. “…I know it’s good they’re not here but… I miss the others…”

“Yeah…” Bro sighs. He then presses light lips to his brother’s head, “We’ll figure it out though…”

Alt nods and hides his face against his brother’s shoulder.

Jameson and Marvin join Chase and Alt in the living room, noticing the way the two of them are acting with each other. They exchange looks, then decide not to say or do anything to interrupt the moment. "Won' be long now," Marvin says, going over to sit in his usual chair. "Jus' a few more minutes."

————

Frustratingly for Magnificent, he seems to have appeared in an area with few magicians or otherwise magic people. Sure, the city at large is very magical, but the west and south neighborhoods are odd dry spots. There are occasional empty houses full of spellbooks and the occasional talisman, but great amounts of magic are few... except for Jameson Jackson, of course, lessened as his magical signature is now that he's drained.

The dark magician curses as he comes up short on any other magic sources. Guess it was time to go back to what he knew- that Jameson could still prove useful to him, if he could find where he escaped to. And well- remembering the bonds between his puppet and his friends- where jj was- so would his failure crippled counterpart would be. It would be good to get rid of such weakness.

Flaring his eyes- he tries to locate that faint spark of Jameson’s magic.

It’s hard to find, but it’s there, glowing faintly… in the opposite direction he’s been walking all this time. How ironic.

Magnificent curses to himself- he'd been walking in the complete wrong way! Cheeky little magician... what a rookie mistake.

But as he stands there trying to locate it… he hears a voice. A voice that sounds like it’s coming from right next to him. “I knew I’d see you eventually.”

Mag freezes hearing that voice and whirls around, hurtling magic towards the voice. "You-!"

The attack misses, because Distorter is not at all where his voice was coming from. Now there’s laughter on Magnificent’s other side. Distorter is sitting on a house’s doorstep, watching casually. “Last time we met because of an accident, but not this time. You came here on purpose, right?” He stands up, head tilting to the side. “Couldn’t make it back home so you decided to try somewhere new? Hoping you wouldn’t fail as much here?”

Magnificent bares his teeth for a second but then stands up taller and tries to stay composed. He smirks, “A being like you couldn’t possibly understand my ambitions. You’re stuck as this- dead thing. But, I’m pushing past my limits. You’re just a speck in the grand scheme of things, cadaver.”

"It's funny how you think you're more than that. Cute, even." Distorter puts a hand on his cheek, a silent gesture of "awww." "You'll die too one day. There's no magic to stave that off forever. And even if you somehow find something that does, do you think it will change your core? Strip away my powers, I'm just a dead guy. Strip away yours and you're just a man with abandonment issues and a mean dad. There's a million of those."

Magnificent tries to keep his expression schooled, even as the demon claws at his inner most fears, his deepest feelings he's long tried to supress. He'd never admit it but yes- He's afraid to die. But, this was to that end. However, the last comments ignite rage in the mad magician as he lashes out with a wild yell and tries to grab where he sees Distorter.

Distorter doesn't move as Mag lunges at him, not even as his claws dig into his flesh. "Looks like I struck a nerve there~!" he sings. Still smiling. Always smiling.

Magnificent yells more and slams the cadaver into the ground, trying to choke him as his eyes light up with power. "Shut up! Don't you dare- dare compare me to any other lowly human! I am more- I am MAGNIFICENT!" He digs his claws in tighter and snarls, "I will not be judged by a being so consumed by sadness for a life that was obviously as meaningless as your very existence."

Distorter's grin widens. He doesn't breathe so the choking isn't bothering him, but he does need air to talk and so can't respond. Instead he reaches up, blackened nails scraping the edge of Magnificent's mask... and all of a sudden he doesn't look like himself anymore. He looks like Jackie--the one Magnificent remembers.

Magnificent's eyes widen in shock. It's instinctual- he lets go of Distorter and backs up, looking at him in confusion. But, then he snarls and teleports back, lighting his hands on fire to try to seem threatening. "No-! No I- I won't fall for your tricks, demon!"

Laughing, Distorter sits up, then stands. The movement is just a bit too fast to be natural. “It’s not a trick,” he says. “It’s a distraction.” And then he attacks—not physically. Mentally, psychic claws digging for a grip in Mag’s mind.

Magnificent looks caught off guard again then yells out as a powerful force is slammed onto his mind. He cries out and falls to his knees, gripping at his skull. Green light tries to ignite in his good eye, trying to push back the force. "N-No! You- You can't...!"

“I can’t? Then how am I doing it?” Distorter steps up to him, leaning down so their eyes are level. “Our goals aren’t really that different you know. And this is my home. It’d be so much easier if you let me show you the way.”

Mag meets distorter's eyes with hatred, snarling. "You- You overpowered when I was weak before- I-! I won't be bested by you ag-" He then pauses, the mental load slamming more against his mind as Distorter's logic tries to worm itself in. To Magnificent though, it feels like he's letting the wheels turn himself, figuring out a plan. Would it be so bad... to team up? They almost brought down their enemies together last time, but Magnificent hardly remembered himself. "... you... don't want to help me-" The dark magician breathes, though he seems unsure of that statement, narrowing his eyes at the other villain.

"Why wouldn't I want to? I don't hate you." Distorter's smile hides the half-lie. He does mildly dislike the dark magician, but he was so useful that he was willing to put up with it. "And helping you would help me, too. We could do so much together."

Magnificent's eyes are starting to slip- the pressure on his head becoming too much. Why- fight it though?

Because he didn't need anyone else! He was powerful enough on his own- he didn't need help!

Are you really going to look a gift horse in the mouth, sorcerer? You're in a foreign world- already weakened. Take what you can get.

Mag's furious expression starts to fall, face slacking. His claws loosen from his skull as he better looks Distorter in the eyes. "...we could... could do so much...together."

"Exactly." Distorter offers a hand to help pull Magnificent up. "I know where they are now, but I don't think they'll stay there for long. Your cub and that hero want to get back to their world soon, and the others have an idea to help them. We need to hurry."

For a fraction of a second, Mag hesitates. But then he lets himself get helped up and nods, blood welling up in one of his eyes. "Alright. Show me."

Distorter's grin widens. "I think I know where they're going. We can intercept them, take them off guard. Follow me."

[f1-4rf3s0-l]

Hmm, Christmas

I like Christmas, the food, the chilly air, the relatives, it feels warm and I feel loved lol. There are some people I wanna spend Christmas with, it feels illegal, but it sure feels good smh. It sure is fun to talk to, play games with, and generally spend time with people I love. Hmm, cringey. I miss caroling with my cousins, haven't done that in a while. On Christmas with extended fam, the presents always fell flat but the money though... 🤑. I feel like Christmas has a feeling attached to it, it's like a feeling that's associated with it, I don't know what it is...

Ang pasko para sa akoa kay murag dili mabutngag kahulugan, murag dili mahikap ang kinatibuk-ang gahum sa misteryo sa pasko Bwhahaha. Mura gyug dili masabtan ang mabat-an kung muabot na ang pasko, murag malipay nalang ka nga "ay pasko na diay" (Hahahaha buang). Usahay man gud, murag wa na namatikdan nga ting pahulay na, ting ila-ila nasads mga kapamilyahan, ting kitaay nasads ate kuya, titog tita, nanay tatay, (manulis nasad ta anig pamaskohan Hahaha) murag mahimuot nalang ka ba.

Usa sad nga hinungdan sa misteryo sa pasko kay murag ang memories ba— nadak-an na nato ang mga buluhaton kada pasko (tungod sa atong kultura), mga simbang gabi, carolling, bonding-bonding, dako nga hinungdan ata ang nostalgia. Bisan sad sa ubang pasko nga murag wa gyuy wawarts, makahimo baya gyapug handa bahalag mag ayum-ayum ra, malipay ra baya gyapun ta Hahahaha. Sa panahon sa pasko, ang pamilya baya gyud ang pokus sa okasyon, ang simbahan, ang paghigalaay, murag kana ata ang "misteryo" sa pasko para sa akoa...

[kala-basaa]

We're learning a lot these days, aren't we? 👁️👁️

So. Much. Lore. 

It’s so fun seeing everyone sparking to life over this. We’re all just vibrating with anticipation and it’s infectious as hell. I love it 🧡

I’m also pretty glad I didn’t make my OC sheets yet lol. There’s so much yummy, nummy potential to make things tastier~

❤️💛💙

[oaxleaf]

mag 164 - the sick village

this episode is so interesting because, despite the disease, i don't find the themes of it to be remotely corruption-related at all. it's far more stranger, i'd say. it's actuallly a wonderful episode because it can be an allegory for so many things. a short list of some of the things it made me think of: xenophobia, witch hunts, the red scare, crabs-in-a-bucket mentality, corruption (in the monetary and political sense, not the disease one), and capitalism

most concisely, i think it can be summarized as being about the welcoming of insidious systems of hatred and division and the deep-rooted fear of anything that challenges those sytems. about embracing the status quo even when it's even known to be harmful, because everything other has to be bad. even when the shitty status quo is blamed on those others, the standard is wholeheartedly defended and the foreigners are shunned. it's pretty much a summary of the fundamental and inherent flaws of conservatism, even without bringing in all of the additional bigotry that permeates so many conservative circles

as for helen, my whole view of her is so incredibly different this time around. i still love her and find her a total highlight and very entertaining, but i don't think there's any character that i feel so different about the second time around. every scene of hers is now tinged with the knowledge that, most likely, nothing about her is real. the friendly and entertaining demeanour that makes her so fun is perfectly manufactored to make her likable despite how unhelpful she is. and it really leaves me questioning whether anything she's ever done and said since she was taken was real. whether the small bits of humanity that seemed to shine through early on were true. because she's not really like jon, in that she's a monster rather than an avatar, yet she seems so humanoid. listening to her now is just such a different experience from the first time, but in many ways that makes her entire character even better

[soelvfisk]

Nogen gange om natten er det lettere at tænke klart. Føler natten er en lomme af tryghed der indhyller mig i ro, på en måde hvor jeg ikke længere er bange for at lave fejl. Som om natten ikke ægte findes. Er sikker på at jeg havde været stjernekigger og himmel-heks før i tiden.

Tænker sommetider på at ændre retning i livet og lave alt om. Studere biologi eller arkæologi eller geologi. Vil både have en kandidat i neuroscience og en kandidat i forhistorisk arkæologi og en kandidat i geoscience. Har købt flere grundbøger fra pensum til de forskellige uddannelser. Så jeg kan sidde med overstregningstush og highlighte de ting jeg gerne vil vide i ro og mag. For jeg kan ikke studere på uni. Har prøvet flere gange. Er meget meget dårlig til gruppearbejde. Får angst over at skulle være parat til at løse konflikter og præstere på én gang. Synes ikke en uddannelse behøver at føles som et socialt eksperiment, når det man allerhelst vil, er at sidde fordybet i et jordhul eller på et laboratorie.

Jeg føler mig “social” når jeg kigger på min families stamtræ. Alle dem der hedder Ane og Peder. Alle dem der hedder navne jeg ikke kan udtale. De har skulle overleve en masse for at jeg kunne eksistere. Så føles mit liv meget værdifuldt. Gid jeg kendte dem nok til at kunne mærke hvad de ellers har givet videre. Om vi ligner hinanden sjæleligt. Føler jeg leder efter en retning i livet og føler at de kender svaret. Som et gigantisk bagland. De sidder et sted og sukker over hvor rodløs jeg er i en kælder. “Du er en bi” ville de sige. Og mene at jeg har et tydeligt formål. Jeg kan bare ikke selv se det.

Men lidt bedre om natten. Tænker fx på nu, at jeg skal læse mine bøger noget mere. Elsker faglitteratur. Elsker at kigge på et vildfarent blad i vinden og blive mindet om nervebaner. Elsker at kunne mærke min hjerne knitre fordi den kan sætte mine omgivelser i allemulige kontekster. Så føler jeg mig ikke så forvirret. Ikke så urtyg. Det kræver bare ro at vide ting. Jeg ved ikke noget, når jeg har det kaotisk - det er faktisk utroligt. Jeg bliver så blank, at jeg knap kender til de mest basale ting om mig selv. Alt bliver et mysterie.

Vil hellere have at mysteriet er til at undersøge… og ikke noget der forhindrer mig i at gribe livet. Ved at jeg har en tipoldefar der var skrædder. To tipoldefædre der var gartnere og havde store planteskoler og gartnerier. En oldefar der var taxachauffør. En oldemor der var pianistinde. Det må have været svært så definitivt at vælge hvad man vil være. Eller bare ende med at være noget… Selv nu - så mange år efter - er de stadig dét. Sikke et pres. Ville ønske jeg kendte dem for andet end deres profession, agtigt. De er jo mere end bare dét. Det handler måske ikke om at være en bi, men om at huske at man er det. Der vigtige er at man finder noget meningsfuldt at lave honning på. Af? På? Af. Et sted hvor ens indsats bliver anerkendt og værdsat. Honning er mere end hårdt arbejde. Honning er mere end et resultat af en slags funktion.

Det minder mig om at bier er magnetiske. Det er sejt. De kan orientere sig efter jordens magnetfelt, fordi de i deres pubertet gror magnetisk materiale i deres mave. Så de kan finde vej. OVERVEJ hvis vi også bare lærte at finde vej så definitivt i vores teens.

[nice2meetyouu]

Ang hirap pag tinatanong ako anong mga gusto ko raw na kanta, feeling ko hindi naman kasi nila alam 'to. 😅

Close Your Eyes

Huwag na Sana 'kong Gumising Mag-isa

Walang Gano'n

May problema daw sa office, walang internet saka hindi gumagana 'yung system. So mas marami ang work ng iba (like me) pero para aliwin ang sarili, pinanood ko na lang sa youtube 'yung mga kanta ni Moira. Natatawa ako sa mga linyahan nilang dalawa ni Jason. "This is my confidence, you are the man I asked God for." Gano'n? 'Yan ang hiningi mo?

Tapos paulit-ulit sa videos 'yung sabi ni Jason na pwede raw bang silang 3 lang, ako, ikaw, si God? Hoy, nandamay pa.

Tapos, napunta ako sa iba pang kantahan.

Ikaw at Ako ni Johnoy Danao

Janice - Dilaw

Pakiramdam ko, may same lyrics sila sa part na "at kung sakaling hindi umayon ang panahon, hahayaan ang tadhanang gumawa ng paraan" at "umabot man sa 'ting huling hantungan, kapit-puso kitang hahayaan, ngayon at kailanman, ikaw at ako" pero hindi pala.

Hehe ang gaganda ng lyrics.

[lycanlovingvampyre]

MAG 189 Relisten

Activity on my first listen: mowing the lawn.

MARTIN: "It’s the final battle, right? We climb the tower, take out the bad guy, figure out how to change the world back, and back in time for tea." No Martin, after this episode there are still 11 left! (Martin seems so stressed.)

MARTIN: "Yeah. They did roll out the red carpet, didn’t they? Must be nice getting the star treatment." JON: "I’d hardly call flooding Oxford Street with blood, the 'star treatment'." Sooo, the "red" carpet was literally blood? (Also, reminds me of The Shining). Martin is so snippy in this one. Been a while since he last did that, like to this extent.

MARTIN: [Amused] "Seriously? Stage fright? The great Archivist, master of all he surveys can’t handle a bit of public attention?" And boyfriend of said master of all he surveys also seems pretty scared and on edge. It fits his character that he gets nervous and is irritated easily because of that. Still, shitty way to treat Jon.

JON: "You don’t need to be sarcastic, okay?" MARTIN: "You’re right, I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’m scared too." I'm happy it got to that though. Jon calling him out and Martin realizing, it's wrong and apologizing.

JON: "Yes. Except one of the contestants is also planning to try and murder the judge." MARTIN: "… Um. [Searchingly] Maybe it hasn’t realised?" It has not, Eye's too dumb for it, you're good to go!

Oh no, Martin's getting worked up again... That was an ugly, ugly fight. If it can even be called a fight, it was mostly just Martin being all angry and yelling around. And I'm kind of disappointed that Martin still reacts so annoyed whenever Jon has to make a statement. It's a physical need of Jon and reacting to physical needs like that is horrible. At least the two of them get some space now and Martin can go cool off somewhere.

"The light takes on a crimson tinge as he passes an office dried with gore, and turns away from a back room where three men in fine suits laugh among themselves as they weave their pile of nooses." That's Tim, right? The laughter we can hear in the background, that's his uncredited cameo and neither Alex nor Jon knew about it at the time.

"He takes his place, marvelling again at how comfortable the seat is, how well it seems to fit," Forget the Lonely, join the Eye! We have comfortable chairs!

I don't quite get this statement, what is it a metaphor for? What is that pit? What it it about that minister, who seems to care about people in a way (or at least recognizes their suffering), but is ashamed of being wealthy while others starve?

MARTIN: [Brightly] "All good?" JON: "Yes. Just, uh… Left a bit of a bad taste in my mouth." MARTIN: "Oh great! Fantastic!" Martin is so bad at this xD Why? He could keep it together during MAG 118 when confronting Elias while Melanie searched the office for evidence. He kept Peter on the hook for several months! And now he's, what, too giddy to try to act normal?

Hmm, when Georgie and Melanie pulled Jon into the tunnels there was the same sound effect we hear when Jon smites someone, even if only for a brief moment.

JON: "Likewise, I… oh… Ooo…" MELANIE: "Oh, I know that sound. He’s going pale, right? Five quid says he’s about to collapse again." JON: [Archly] "I am not going to collapse. What do you mean again?" MELANIE: "Oh come on. You do it all the time." Yeah, Jon's "hobbies", getting kidnapped and collapsing. Sounds fun!

JON: [Brokenly] "I do not – I’m just feeling a little bit woozy alright? I ca-can’t quite think straight. Like at, um… um, Martin, you remember?" GEORGIE: "Is this what you were talking about?" MARTIN: "Yeah, if something messes with his connection, he can get a little… vague." JON: "I don’t like being discussed like I’m not here." I mean... Jon tried to tell what happened to him at Salesa’s and couldn't, then asked Martin what it was like. Georgie asks Martin, if this is what he was talking about (It makes sense to ask Martin, cause it was him they have spoken to earlier. How would Jon know what Georgie means, he certainly can't Know it here.) and Martin explains what Jon just couldn't put into words. I wouldn't have seen this as "discussing me like I'm not here". But I understand, there are people out there, who are really bothered by this. Friends of mine are like that. He tries to tell something, doesn't quite know how to proceed, she chimes in and says just straight out what he wanted to say and he get's all angry for being interrupted and having the story told for him. I don't know, I wouldn't mind that, I'd see it as a "Oh good, I don't have to explain everything, others already get it."

MELANIE: "It’s fine, Georgie. You can use the “c” word." MARTIN: "E-Excuse me?" GEORGIE: "Fine. We’ve got, sort of a… cult." Yeah, same Martin. This being a British show I thought it would be the word with an N instead of the L xD

GEORGIE: "When the world started to change, it just didn’t hit me and Melanie. Not, not really." ... Not really!!!^^

MELANIE: "There was nowhere to go back to, so I told her about the tunnels. Turns out, not only were they still here, they actually do a decent job of hiding things. When you aren’t painting a huge target on our backs." Mrrrrrhhh, until know this could have been excused as the Slaughter's influence, but Melanie still want to pin everything on Jon!

GEORGIE: "How could we not? The entire city knows you were there." MELANIE: [Sarcastically] "Everyone is so excited to see the Ceaseless Watcher’s special little boy." [GIGGLES] Okay, the entire city knows, but how did they learn about it? Do... the things here in London speak with actual words and they overheard them talking? Bit unspectacular... I'd like to think that every single screen in London now live-broadcasts Jon, as long as he is in London on the surface.

Heh, Jon laughing at Martin getting owned by Melanie XD Serves him a bit right after this episode ^^''

@a-mag-a-day