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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 2 years ago

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I Prefer My Heart To Be Broken, Chapter Two: Chaos-Bringer

A bad mood. An even scarier visitor. Some dangerous realizations.

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CHAPTER TWO: CHAOS-BRINGER

Martin is angry.

He tries to hide it from Jon—to acknowledge the guilt that Jon wears like skin—because it’s obvious Jon is already blaming himself for everything, and Martin doesn’t want to add to it.

But Martin is pissed, and he decides to take it out on firewood.

Jon should have woken him. Chop.

And no, it probably wouldn’t have done any good, and it had been the logical choice, but damn it, Jon needs to stop defaulting to doing this on his own. Chop.

And how dare some fucking monster show up here, now, when they’ve minded their own business, and haven’t called anything, or tempted anything, or done anything to deserve this interruption of hope and future and peace? Chop.

How dare it ask them to damn the whole world?

The axe goes through the firewood into the stump and gets stuck.

Fortunately, no one seems to have noticed his mood. It’s market day in West Village, and everyone is busy setting up their stands, exchanging stories, laughing lightly, focused on their own things.

Martin mutters at the axe as he wrenches it loose, then stands still, studying its edge.

Could the tentacle-god-thing be chopped? Maybe.

Would he survive the encounter? Really, no.

Damn it, Jon, Martin thinks, because Jon can’t help somehow luring these things like he’s fresh bait, but Jon also makes a convenient outlet for frustration.

“Martin!” Julia arrives with a basket of herbs and a smile. She kisses his cheek. “Peter and Mark are looking for you.”

“I’ll be sure to keep an eye out,” he says cheerfully, smiling the way they all do here—bright but vague, never quite making eye-contact, chin up and shameless and sweet.

Too direct, and they grow afraid. Less direct, and they worry about you.

He’d mastered their non-verbal cues in less than a day. And if someone had asked him to explain how, he would not have been able.

“You do not have winter clothes,” Julia suggests in the way they do here without asking questions.

Questions send people toward panic, and neither Jon nor Martin know why.

“Well, I mean—not yet,” Martin says. “But we’ve been saving up, and we have a few more weeks until it gets uncomfortable.”

She smiles. “When it’s time, we’ll help you choose what’s best for our weather. Don’t forget to stop by later so we can trade for bread.” And she goes, swinging her basket, face turned toward the sun, not a care in the world.

For some reason, Julia, Peter, and Mark worry about him, anyway, no matter how he plays the game. He’s not sure why, but he’s grateful. They’ve helped so much.

Those three were Martin’s favorite “family” here—a proper polycule, though they didn't know that word. An open, multi-gender threesome in the middle of this quaint village, wearing homespun, and offering aid when Martin first arrived. Incredible.

Peter and Mark even discreetly helped out when Martin realized he’d need personal lubricant, and had no idea how to go about getting it here.

Vegetable oil, it turned out. Who knew?

There were some ways that Martin loved this place, and this was one of them: no one could be outed. You loved whom you loved.

Not that this helps Jon.

Jon’s problem is not whom he loves.

Jon is eldritch. Jon strikes people as weird, and they don’t know why.

Jon is not human, and he can’t lie worth shit.

So Martin works the people of this village with every ounce of charm he has—for Jon. Martin can lie for him. Martin has made it clear to everyone that he adores Jon, and Jon makes him very happy.

That bit is all true, and easy to communicate.

Thus: the people who like Martin tolerate Jon.

Martin tolerates Jon some days, too. Especially when he encounters a god on the front step and doesn't wake his partner. “Normally, it’s adorable, being him,” he mutters to his axe, setting up the next log. “Fumbling around. Getting excited over bugs, or whatever. But not like this, Jon. Not like this.”

“Mm, love is so confusing, isn’t it? Really makes you wonder if it’s worth the time,” drawls a voice that Martin has never heard before.

What the hell kind of statement was that?

Martin turns, smile plastered on, remembering to lower the axe so he doesn’t seem aggressive (a million little lessons embedded since his final, wild growth spurt in his teens). “Hello! I’m sorry, I didn’t think the market was open yet. I don’t think you’re quite allowed back here, yet? Maybe?” he suggests.

The man laughs. He doesn't look like… anything. Just a guy. Moderately attractive, brown hair, tanned skin, unremarkable clothes.

But that laugh felt weird.

Not quite like the Distortion’s laugh, but it shakes Martin the same way, unnerves him, unbalances him.

It makes him want to peel his own skin off, and that is very not good.

Martin’s grip tightens on the axe. His smile, however, does not waver.

“You’re really good at that!” the guy says, and there is nothing about his grin that should make it the worst thing Martin’s seen since the worms and corkscrew days, but it is, it is, it is. “No wonder how you ended up in such a complicated relationship. Just wormed your way in there, didn’t you? Would he even know you were doing it? Oh, oh—maybe he does know, but he just doesn’t care because he’s so desperate for love, which makes you lucky, doesn’t it, cupcake?” And the man laughs again.

Right, so none of that was good.

Martin doesn’t want to just assume this guy read his mind, but it sure did seem like he did.

Like he knows Martin’s quiet, deep fear that he manipulated his way into Jon’s heart, that Jon absolutely loves him but Martin made it happen, that Annabelle’s comment about getting what you wanted through smiles and shrugs and stammerings had embedded itself in him.

Martin pushes that aside. The more important issue is this guy asked questions.

Nobody asks questions. Nobody talks in such a sharp, present manner here.

This is already brushing up against Martin’s spook-limit, but he keeps it together.

He wants a reaction, Martin thinks, and decides not to provide one. “Sorry?” he says, his eyes wide and worried. “I’m not quite sure I follow. You know, you seem lost. I can always help you go wherever you need to get to. I’m Martin, by the way. Nice to meet you!” And though he’s so afraid he can barely breathe, Martin offers his hand.

It’s not even shaking.

“Oh, now, that’s just talent, isn’t it?” says the man, showing too many teeth. He grabs Martin’s hand in both of his (and they are hot, startlingly hot) and shakes it with wild enthusiasm, grinning the whole time. “Call me Kayne. Nice to meet you, too… plus-one.”

Okay, this had gone too far.

He considers using the axe.

He considers trying to run.

Kayne tsks at him. “Now, after I actually bothered to get your attention, you’re going to run away? Come on, now, Kartin, there’s no need for that. If I was gonna hurt you—” The axe in Martin’s hand breaks, snaps, just pops like a piece of straw, and Martin drops it with a gasp—”I would have.”

Martin’s hand is riddled with splinters, and it throbs with his heartbeat, and he takes two critical seconds to evaluate, recalibrate, shift tactics.

Because (and this is important) if the spooky guy is bothering him, he isn’t bothering Jon. “I’m going to have to replace that handle, you know,” he says, trying for just prickly enough to irritate, and braces himself for the worst.

Kayne tsks again. “Relax, muffin. No consequences for you today. Look around, my darling—it’s all waiting, just for you.”

It is waiting. It’s stopped.

No birds chirping. No movement.

A dog is frozen mid-trot, literally off the ground.

Please be safe, Martin thinks at Jon, though he knows Jon won’t hear because Jon is too far away and at least theoretically respects his mental space. “That’s, uh. That’s… pretty scary?”

“It sure is, my little baklava. Come on, now. Come on! Walk with me. Talk with me! We have some things to discuss. Oh, and a word of advice? The other guy can be chopped (though not to great effect), but I can’t. Won’t work. Wouldn’t want you to be disappointed.”

His patter reminds Martin of some sort of cinema carnie, fast and cheerful and aggressively friendly, but Martin still feels the weird, frighteningly literal urge to peel off his own skin.

Hold his attention, he thinks again, and walks where Kayne leads. Which seems to be nowhere, just wandering through the stalls.

Everyone is frozen, mid-prep. Market day is important, and goods are on display, left and right—produce and clothing and tools, spices (mostly salt), and bundles of late summer flowers to brighten homes.

Martin hopes no one’s being harmed by this.

He won’t lead this conversation. If this Kayne actually has something to say, he can say it. Silence is hardly an issue.

“No, it wouldn’t be for you, would it?” says Kayne, reading his mind without so much as a please, and a wave of cold, familiar isolation washes through Martin.

It is just a second’s worth, and already too much.

The Lonely. That was the Lonely, splashed in his face like a glass of water.

Martin keeps it together, somehow, and huffs as if that didn’t absolutely terrify him. “Rude. Can we get this over with? Sorry, just, I’m kind of over the apocalypse, you know? So maybe just say whatever it is you want to get off your chest, and I can go back to work.”

“Oh, you’ve got even more potential than I thought,” Kayne says in a low, pleased tone, hands in his jacket pockets, striding along and watching the sky as if he hasn’t a care in the world. “Creative. So focused. Positively tricksy. Sorry it’s not going to work out that way. Your BFF got visited by the King in Yellow last night, my friend. Things are afoot!”

“That’s... nice?” Martin finally knows who this voice reminds him of—that guy from Tangled. Flynn Rider. Only from hell.

“Ooh, so close! But no. Outer Infinity. Same concept, better amenities. So!” Kayne stops abruptly and claps his hands. “Can you guess why I’m visiting your AnimalCrossing island? Hm? Go on, go on, no wrong answers. Do your best.”

“For Jon,” says Martin without hesitation.

“Mmm, nope, nope, not my taste, I do not want him. Ew. Try again.”

But the thing last night had said… “The Entities,” says Martin softly. “You all want the Fears brought here.”

“Half a point for effort, cupcake. I don’t want that, either.”

What was with the weird pet names? “So… so what are you saying? Then what do you want?”

“Well, not to vaguepost, but some people,” Kayne says, using air quotes, “love a bit of chaos in their stew (excellent flavoring), and some people,” again with the air quotes, “really, really, really, really hate it. Let’s just say I prefer things savory—and the raw potential for chaos your snuggle-muffin brings to the table is causing quite the stir.”

“Chaos,” repeats Martin.

“C-h-a-o-s,” spells Kayne.

The god in yellow’s trigger word. “You,” says Martin, unable to keep his voice steady.

“In person and at your service, sir!” barks Kayne, and bows. He’s produced a full-on feathered cavalier’s hat, which he doffs with a flourish. It vanishes the moment he puts it back on.

Martin’s hand is sticky with blood. The splinters throb. “All right. Well. Jon won’t do it. I mean, I know that. And if you’re so good at reading minds, you know it, too.”

“Well, he won’t yet, sweetums,” says Kayne, “but it’s only a matter of time. You know that, right? I mean, it’s going to happen. It’s just a question of when, and I want it delayed.”

“It’s not a question of when. It’s not going to happen.” Martin feels sick, has to fight the urge to bend over, head down, pushing back nausea, dizziness. “It’s not. You don’t know Jon.”

“But I do. Didn’t like it at all.” Kayne sniffs imperiously. “He just shows everything in his dreamy brown eyes, doesn’t he? Can’t lie for shit, spends half his time in his own head, stabbing himself. Useless. You, on the other hand… there are all kinds of secrets in you, aren’t there?”

“I… I don’t…”

“I mean, you successfully fooled people who could read your mind. That takes some doing, sweet cheeks, and I am here for it.”

Martin has no idea how to feel about that statement. He swallows. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because, because, because your affianced is not human. The King can’t just break him or control him (like either of us could do to you) without also breaking whatever it is that can invite all his friends to the party, you get me? And that’s not fair—so we made a bet!”

Martin’s heart is racing. “What bet?”

“Oh, whether he can get the Archivist to do it, of course. I’m going to lose,” says Kayne cheerfully. “But along the way? Drama! Romance! Tears! And since there’s no one who could influence our messy messiah, our herald of the end, our angel of music, better than you—you’re only all the little antichrist thinks about all the time—” Kayne cackles—”I took you.”

Martin takes a step back. “You what?”

Kayne flaps his hand. “Relax, cinnamon bun, I’m not here to kidnap you like an antisemitic goblin. My point, cupcake, is he’ll do what you want. You, the rudder for a nascent and deeply depressed god. That’s quite a lot of power for such a fluffy little pastry, isn’t it?”

This couldn’t be happening.

A bet.

A bet, again, with him and Jon as the game pieces. Anger makes his mouth sour. “You… you made a bet?”

Kayne studies his fingernails. “I just said that, Martin. I don’t like to repeat things. If you’re not going to listen better, I’m not going to come back.”

That is a threat, though Martin can’t fathom what might be worse than his attention. “Jon won’t choose to end the world. Why are you so sure you’ll lose?”

Kayne smiles slowly, like searing flesh, like Martin asked a question that pleases him, then suddenly flings one arm around Martin’s shoulders.

It’s like being encased in hot iron. It hurts, and Martin cries out.

“We are going to have so much fun, you and I!” Kayne says, squeezing tighter in response to Martin’s struggle. “Of course, we have to finish all this folderol first. You’ll do anything for him, he’ll do anything for you, blah, blah, blah, it's all so… so…” Kayne apes sobbing, mimics wiping tears, then switches it off and finally releases him.

Martin stumbles back, shoulders aching. Terror has finally blinded him to what to do next. It’s risen in his throat, lumpy and wet like clay.

“There, there, dumpling,” says Kayne. “Go on back to your crucial, ever-so-important work. You get to tell him all about this when he gets home.”

This can’t wait, Martin thinks.

“Oh, it can. It will. Because your little buddy with a bullseye is learning things right now that he’s going to need, and you don’t want to interrupt that, do you?”

“Then why did you come now?” says Martin.

“Stir the proverbial pot. Plant some seeds. Test your soul’s pH. You know, the usual.” He reaches for Martin’s cheek.

Martin dodges back.

Kayne smiles with poison, with such deep and dire eagerness that Martin almost starts to cry. “Ciao!”

And Kayne is gone.

Except for his cavalier’s hat, which is inexplicably in Martin’s good hand for two seconds, then vanishes.

Everyone is moving again. Time has resumed like nothing happened.

Martin’s bleeding hand aches.

He feels like a monster just put him in its mouth, chewed lightly to test for doneness, then spat him out again.

“Hey, Martin!” calls James, who seems to think Martin’s opinions on the price of cheese matter more than anyone else’s.

“Oh, hey!” Martin calls back, cheerful, smiling, because he is very good at this, very good at not scaring anyone, very good at hiding tears and making sure he’s liked.

And his hand is bleeding, and he holds it behind him while James talks, and only goes to pull out (cut out) the splinters after James has walked away.

“So, in summary: in mid-January, year 63, Emperor Turdot died, leaving behind a deeply unstable situation. He’d refused counsel, refused to allow anyone to know what he was doing or why, and the resulting power vacuum and destabilization gave the Church of the Thousand Young what they needed to take over, transforming the last unshepherded empire into an Esoteric theocracy.”

Jon stops, tracking which students are still paying attention (most), which students are making the connections he’s tried to lead them towards (none), and which students are so distracted by matriculation that they can’t fully focus (all).

He’s not sure yet if he likes teaching. It’s deeply intimate, more than a little uncomfortable. And given what he has to work with, it’s also like trying to plow in fresh mud. “Questions?” he prompts, expecting none. “Ah! Yes—William.”

“Mentor, tell us more of the Esoterics.”

Jon listens for the answer and finds everyone around him seems to know the same broad, unhelpful things. “Ancient beings, origins shrouded in eternity, who guide the world through their carefully-formed Churches.” Dear lord. “They control every government to some level, dependent on the individual nation’s history and relationship with their Esoteric One.”

The visitor in yellow had to be one of these things.

His students watch him, rapt. Jon doesn’t know why; he’s too busy gathering his answer to look into that just yet.

“Some nations are, as Gaul now is, theocracies, which means the deity and its underlings are physically present, openly and aggressively. These nations are considered less free by those outside of them, and unpleasant places to live, leading to—” Oh, that’s new—”the tradition that, when refugees appear, they are treated well. It is considered a mark of a good person and a civilized society to show compassion toward those who’ve torn their lives up by the roots to escape their god. It is doomed to be a cursed life—eventually, so goes the rhetoric, the gods catch up to you.”

Well, that explained why being “refugees” had put them in such a position of aid.

The students stare at him, and Jon takes a moment to try to know why.

Ah. They want to know which nation he escaped from, and how. It seems he evinces none of the things they look for as clues to his origin.

(What things? That’s hard to say, but it seems at least one of those nations would have left him with w-shaped pupils, like a cuttlefish. Yikes.)

“Any further questions?” says Jon, trying to keep that image from messing with his head.

Of course there aren’t. Nobody has questions in this place. They’re all staring at him in awe, though, because they think he will be hunted down by an Esoteric, and they’d like to see it happen.

Lovely. “All right—your final test of the season is tomorrow. No excuses—your families have known you’d need the ink all year, so I expect you to arrive fully stocked.”

“And then matriculation!” shouts Donovan from the back, and his whole class—aged fifteen to sixty-four, all genders—cheers.

He still doesn’t know what students who matriculate actually do. None of them seem to have any plans.

Still, Jon smiles with them. “Yes, yes. Go on, now. Be safe, and may the wind hide you.”

Why do they say that? He doesn’t know because they don’t know.

And no one asks.

He just doesn’t understand why nobody asks.

Jon gathers the books permitted for these classes and—per standard—locks them away. (Why did the books have to be locked up? No clue! Nobody knew! Nobody asked!)

He takes his time cleaning up—dusting, straightening, adjusting the chairs and desks so they’re all even.

He’s lingering. He doesn’t quite know what mood Martin will be in when he gets home.

Martin was not happy with last night’s adventure. Oh, he would probably be fine by tonight, but…

Making Martin upset for any reason was something Jon couldn’t really handle. It echoed things neither of them talk about, things Jon would take back if he could.

Things they maybe would never talk about.

Well. At least he had new information, finally.

Year 63 was the end of Gaul’s human rulers. This was year 376.

What was everyone counting up from? Something so significant happened 376 years ago that it changed how human beings reckon time, but no one knew what it was.

Jon sighs. School had always been a place of comfort for him—where what you knew mattered more than who you knew, or what you wore, or any other thing—but here, they all knew so little.

Though Jon doesn’t want to admit it, it’s beginning to physically hurt.

He feels starved. No, dehydrated. No… something.

It’s not a need for statements, he tells himself—which is good, as he has taken none since arrival. It has to be something else.

Sure.

Jon rubs his chest and tries to focus on this new knowledge.

The Esoterics. So strange, so undefined; just other, powerful, out there somewhere. Not that theocracies hadn’t existed in his own world (three concurrent popes all calling each other heretics like in that Spiderman meme remained one of his favorite weird historical moments), but this was different.

Actual deific embodiments. No wonder nobody he’d met here was an atheist.

They just all knew, believed, accepted, did not question. And they did not like his questions, felt terrified when asked, and he did not know why.

It was like pulling teeth to get his students to even comment on lessons.

There was little doubt that an Esoteric had come to visit last night.

Why would any of them want the Fears closer? Surely a god couldn’t get so bored that it wanted competition.

“Knock, knock,” says the Paragon.

“Come in, Mason,” says Jon, packing away the remains of his lunch.

Jon does not like the Paragon.

The Paragon makes him think far too much of Jonah. His eyes are gray. His smile is banal. His mind is heavily shrouded. While Mason is far from the only one whose mind Jon cannot see, it’s worrying.

The Paragon also provides Jon’s guilders, so Jon tries to not to let any of that show.

“So, you’ve done it,” says Mason, smiling and leaning on the door frame, like they’re old friends. “Made it through your first season. It looks like you enjoyed most of it.”

That’s another thing Jon doesn’t like: the man states his guesses as though they are fact, and often, is right.

Jon tried to hint he’d taught before.

Mason hadn’t believed it for a second.

Jon tried to hint they hadn’t traveled far.

Mason laughed like he’d made a joke.

Worrisome. “I did, thank you,” says Jon, taking up his satchel and double-checking the clasp.

“Well,” says Mason, a little gleam in his eyes (Not his fault they’re gray, Jon tells himself every time they talk), “the position is open for next season, if you’re interested.”

Three weeks between seasons, Jon has learned, is normal. A three-year program for those few who qualify, four seasons a year—eight weeks on, during which students are expected to do nothing but learn, and three weeks off, during which they must produce one new fact they learned on their own.

(But still without asking questions, and Jon is bothered.)

“That sounds lovely, assuming I’m not taking someone else’s job,” he says.

“For someone with your vast knowledge, I would make a spot, even if I had to dig for one,” says Mason affably. “Someday, you’ll have to let me know why you didn’t matriculate.”

Jon doesn’t understand what that means, or how Mason knows he didn’t, or why it matters. He focuses on his bag because he knows his face is not neutral. “Someday. Sure.”

Mason doesn’t look like Jonah. He’s younger. Slightly rougher, living in a world without spa days, or whatever Jonah did to Elias Bouchard’s body. But those eyes….

Stop it, Jon tells himself.

“There is one more thing.”

Jon tries not to tense, then decides Mason probably saw it, anyway. He smiles weakly. “Those words usually aren’t followed by anything good.”

Mason smiles back. “They are this time. I would like to invite you and your partner to a mentor’s gathering tonight. We’ll be hosting mentors from the three closest Groves, as well. It’s a good chance to meet your own kind—since I know you’re unfamiliar with our area.”

See, there it was again. That phrasing; it could be read in all different ways. Maybe Mason was trying to figure out where Jon had run from, too. “I’ll ask and see if he’s interested. Neither of us feels overly social just yet.”

“Really.” Mason’s eyes widen. “It seems your beau is quite social, from what I hear.”

“Professionally, of course he is,” says Jon, trying so very hard not to feed his suspicion of this man.

“Fair enough, fair enough. Well, I hope he says yes. I’m heading to London after, so I won’t see you again until next season. Have a good night, Jonathan.”

Jon doesn’t correct his name. He just leaves.

Worth it, he reminds himself, because it is, and he isn’t tied down, and they can leave at any time (quitting was an option here, and he had damn well made sure).

Cresting the hill before their cottage, he pauses, looks; it’s market day, and Martin will be late.

Jon’s going to bake something. Welcome him home with good smells and love.

He checks the dough that’s been proofing overnight, liberally mixed with fresh rosemary; it already smells divine, and he has high hopes for it as he sticks it in the oven.

Happily, he doesn’t have to light a fire. Electricity works here between the hours of five AM and seven PM—even though there are neither wires nor outlets.

It’s wireless power in a place that doesn’t even have radios. Yet another mystery.

What was the world like before that event of 376 years past?

Jonathan was a Hebrew name, and Jon had it because of religious and cultural integration. Others here had names like Mark, which was originally Greek, and—back home—common for the same reason.

There was no Church of Rome, couldn’t be in a world with floating gods, and without the common foundation of that Greco-Latin influence, the language should not be the same. The word theocracy had Greek roots, for crying out loud.

He had to wonder if they were actually speaking English—if the Eye was doing something to ease communication.

But if it was, how would that work for Martin?

“It just doesn’t make any sense,” Jon mutters, bringing leftovers up from the narrow, deep cellar.

Maybe the Fears hadn’t been able to come through because this world was so different.

There didn’t seem to be much suffering, at least. Nobody talked about anything frightening, ever; and when he skimmed minds, he never saw the concerns that should, by reason, be there.

No one worried for their future or their health or war or money.

No one worried for their children or their parents or their crops or their cows.

It’s like they were all caricatures of people, two dimensional—kind, hard-working, but unable to think deeply about anything.

How could they be like this in a universe run by terrifying beings like last night’s god?

There is no way to know, of course, (You could know, tempts the Eye, and Jon ignores it), but he highly doubts the yellow-cloaked being is going to be patient with him for long.

Would distance make a damn bit of difference?

Esoterics rule various nations, but the fact that refugees get chased down means fleeing probably won’t help.

Escape might be possible, but it might not—and if it isn’t, running would just piss off the thing that was after them.

There is a London, but Jon’s not found a map. Is there an Oxford? Probably not. The likelihood of there being an exit, another Hill Top Road, is slim to none—and whatever hole they’d fallen through originally was definitely no longer available.

He didn’t want to risk returning to their original world, anyway. What if the Fears continued to follow him, tethered? What if they weren’t as stuck as he hoped?

Jon sighs. “Focus, Sims,” he mutters, because wherever he and Martin land, here or elsewhere, he is determined to make a home for them. No matter what it takes.

Even if that means figuring out a way around a god.

“Hopefully, with no more stabbing,” Jon mutters, chopping everything for a makeshift fry-up.

And suddenly, he knows whose territory he is in.

His hand slips, and he cuts his finger.

Cursing, he runs it under the sink; while it heals, he tries to stay calm.

He hadn’t reached for this new knowledge. Hadn’t asked. Why had it been given to him? Why had—

“Jon?” says Martin from the door. He is very pale, and his hand is bandaged.

Jon drops everything and runs to him.

They sit together on their old, broken-down couch, ignoring the springs that press into their backs and bottoms. “What are we going to do?” Martin says, very small.

“I don’t know.” Jon cradles Martin’s bandaged hand. He doesn't mention his own cut, already healed.

“We have to do something. Maybe go somewhere. We—we have enough saved. If we had to buy passage overseas or something, maybe we could.”

“I don’t know, Martin. I don’t think it would help.”

“We can’t just sit here!”

Jon sighs. “I think our visitors are truly in charge here. That whole Esoteric thing… I mean, what kind of a name is the Church of a Thousand Young, anyway? It has something to do with what they call the Black Goat of the Woods. Can’t you feel how terrible that is?”

Martin cannot, but he can see how it affects Jon—disgust and fear, equally rancid—so he nods.

“And do you want to know which Esoteric rules here? I found out while I was… before you got back. Alba belongs to the Church of the Pallid Mask. Do you know what that means?”

“No,” whispers Martin, breathing faster, because something about the way Jon said that was too familiar, tipped him off that Jon got this information illicitly, and if he’s listening that hard, actively searching, then he’s stretching his powers, and he hasn’t needed statements yet, but what if he starts needing them, and—

“A white mask, Martin. Like the King in Yellow was wearing.”

“We’re in his territory? Then we should leave!”

“Even if we got away from him, I don’t think we could from your chaos god.”

“He’s not my chaos god,” Martin snaps, and doesn’t know why he does.

Jon flinches. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“Oh, Jon.” Martin pulls him close, sighs against his hair. “No, I’m sorry. I’m on edge.” He sighs. “And my hand hurts, and I had to pretend it didn’t all day because if I get so much as a scrape, everybody’s all over me to help.”

Jon smiles against his shoulder; then laughs. He can’t help it. “Of course they are. My man, the Village stud.”

“Stop.” But Martin’s smiling.

“The mysterious thoroughbred from far away, the most eligible gentleman—”

Martin’s laughing now, too, and he’s red behind his freckles. “Jon, you’re being ridiculous.”

“What, just because I happen to be sleeping with the most strapped, the most—”

“All right, all right.”

“Even Salesa was into you, you know.”

“What?”

“’I like this one,’” Jon mimics in a poor attempt at Salesa’s accent.

Martin gives up and kisses him quiet, laughing against his mouth. “You’re impossible.”

“Yes, I am,” Jon smirks, but then the moment has passed, and his smile fades. “This bet of theirs is insane. I won’t bring the Fears into the world, Martin. I’ll die before I do that to this place.”

Martin is silent for a long moment. “You’re assuming you can die.”

“I assume it because it’s reasonable. I don’t have the power I did back home, even before Jonah’s ritual. Yes, I can gather thoughts, but I don’t need them. And I can’t force people to tell me things—there’s no compelling at all.”

“You’ve tried?” says Martin, softly.

Jon blinks at him. “Well, yes.”

“Jon, when did this happen?”

“I… not long after I started looking for a job. I….”

“You didn’t tell me.”

Jon looks so surprised. “I didn’t want to worry you! Besides, what’s there to tell? You know I’m not the Archivist here. Whatever lingering effects there are, I’m not that. I don’t have the powers, and I don’t have the protections.”

Not all of them, anyway.

“Who did you try to compel?”

Jon sighs slowly. “Just a shopkeeper. I haven’t gone back. I… I just needed to know if I could do it.”

Martin is silent.

Jon feels suddenly ashamed, though he hadn’t a moment before. “Martin, I had to figure out what remained inside me. I doubt I can look anyone to death, either.”

“No, I’d assume you couldn’t do that. But Jon, why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t think it was important.” Which is the truth (because Martin was right and Kayne was right and Jon can’t lie for shit). “I just did a few tests, realized I can’t compel, can’t just know everything—but I also don’t need statements. I don’t have to feed the Eye, Martin.”

“I know you don’t, but….”

“I’m sorry we haven’t talked about it,” says Jon, softly, looking up (and Martin wants to melt into those eyes, wants to kiss away the pain he sees there, the lingering sorrow and shame). “You’ve been so focused on just keeping us afloat here. So have I. We just… haven’t talked about not needing statements.”

They haven’t talked about a lot more than that.

Martin sighs. “I felt like if I did, I’d be pushing our luck. Jinxing it.”

Jon’s smile is not a good one. “If you don’t want to be jinxed, you’ll need to stay far away from me.”

“No. No,” says Martin, firmly, uncomfortably reminded of Kayne’s comment about Jon mentally, repeatedly stabbing himself. “None of that. You know better.”

Jon neither confirms nor denies.

Martin cups his face. “I am with you because I love you. I choose you,” he says. “I didn’t know it would be this way, but that’s how all love is. That’s how life is! I mean, if I’d known it would be like this, I would have stabbed Jonah in the back of the head or something, but I’d still be with you. And we’d be in Honduras.”

“Honduras?” says Jon with a little smile. “Why?”

“Non-extradition treaty,” says Martin. “I looked it up.”

Jon manages a small laugh. His smile fades, changes into something intense, eldritch, too much to bear, and Martin has to fight not to drop his own gaze. “I don’t deserve you,” says Jon.

“Stop that,” says Martin. “Also, I think I smell bread.”

“Damn, the bread!” Jon says, and leaps away to get it out of the oven.

Damn Jonah is what Martin thinks, because he sees the wounds, he sees the scars, sees how brilliantly Jonah destroyed whatever confidence Jon had once had.

Of course Jonah had. He hadn’t wanted the god he’d created to come after him.

And Martin doesn’t know how to heal him.

It angers Martin that his love isn’t enough to reach the bottom of the wounds Jonah left.

I’m just jealous of everybody, aren’t I? thinks Martin, considering his reaction to Oliver Banks, and has to laugh at himself. “What a pair we make,” he mutters.

“Safe,” says Jon. “Rosemary bread tonight. It’s going to be lovely.”

Not nearly as lovely as Jon’s expression, Martin thinks, studying the way his eyes crinkle, studying the way he actually shows his teeth with a smile this real.

Why can’t we have this? Martin thinks at the universe. Just let us have this.

The universe does not reply.

(part three)

NOTES:

It's ALMOST AS IF they really need to talk about some stuff. Hmmmm!

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navree · 3 years ago

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elias apparently telling back in season 1 jon to destroy the web table when it arrived when he KNEW that would release the not-them, you shady bitch god absolutely bless you

#personal #the magnus archives #mag relisten #he's so marvelous out here playing the concerned boss #'oh jon this table is dangerous made you should destroy it' when he knows that would release an eldritch monster #i love him #(also cuz i'm on that ep in my relisten when martin asks if he can go and jon gives him a lil 'go on' and it's soft and almost affectionate)#(feeling some feelings beyond elias appreciation in the club tonight)

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venfx · 4 years ago

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magnus fic roundup

as tma comes to a close, i thought i'd post some of my favorite fics to come out of this fandom. most of these are classics, listed in no particular order.

A Weather In The Flesh by @cuttoothed | 3K | S1-S4 | Jon/Martin | Complete

"There is a span of years where Jon doesn’t touch anyone other than the occasional hand shake. It’s not so bad. He’s never been someone who’s needed physical affection."

Jon has never been any good at making people want to stick around.

↳ this is such a well-done exploration of jon’s character and his relationship with touch, and i’ve re-read it at least five times. sweet and sad and phenomenally well-written.

in the chillest land and on the strangest sea by imperfectcircle, singlecrow | 20K | Safehouse, S1-S4 | Jon & Daisy, Jon/Martin | Complete

Jon remembers a statement he read years ago given by a Jesuit priest, who said that the shortest prayer he knew was, just, fuck it, as in fuck it; it's in God's hands. He takes Daisy's hand and trails on after her.

or; hope is a thing with feathers.

↳ hey, you wanna fuckin..... feel things? read this.

The Magnus Institute hires a Data Protection Officer. He sets about diligently booking in meetings, writing policy documents, and training all the staff in the importance of confidentiality. Now if only he could get hold of the Head Archivist, who seems to have vanished again...

(Jon is only trying to save the world, but apparently some people think he should still be doing his day job.)

↳ i’d be surprised to find people who haven’t read this series, but it’s the definition of “the magnus archives is a workplace comedy”. also, alasdair stuart has actually read some clips of this on Twitch, so that’s a fun bonus.

In accordance with the Ride or Die Pact of 2009, Jonathan Sims can call upon Georgie Barker at any time for aid with no strings attached. Despite their rocky history, their childhood friendship, and Jon’s barely recovered alcoholism, this pact is sacred and must be upheld.

Georgie Barker may regret this. She may regret it when she discovers that the world is full of monsters and eldritch gods and dickhead managers. She may regret it when a punk rocker who should be dead collapses on their doorstep, a teenager again who needs their help. She may regret it when her stupid ex-boyfriend starts selling his soul for knowledge and the ability to keep his new family safe.

But she probably won’t. Georgie isn’t scared of anything - not a Clown’s apocalypse, not the apocalypse that Jon is destined to begin, and not Jon’s own loss of humanity.

Maybe she should be.

↳ if you’re looking for an everyone-lives-no-one-dies-happy-ending fic that also happens to be massively chaotic, look no further.

The Reverb in These Holy Halls by @wolftraps | 98K | AU, S1-S4 | Jon/Martin | Complete

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

↳ quintessential time travel AUs. plot-wise, i feel like these can be difficult to write, but op does a fantastic job of tying things together in a way that makes sense. plus, it’s just fun to read.

jon sims v the nhs by @thoughtsbubble | 12K | Series | S3 | Complete

Joan Bright has a new patient. He's carrying an old tape recorder and is covered head to toe in scars. Jonathan Sims looks dangerous, but Dr Bright has dealt with all sorts of atypical individuals. She has no reason to be nervous.

Right?

↳ if you’ve ever thought “hey, jon should probably go to therapy”, then 1) you’re absolutely right and 2) this is... probably what would’ve happened. prior knowledge of The Bright Sessions is not required. also, apparently, this fic is written by the showrunner of The Underwood Collection? wild.

Family, Found by Dribbledscribbles | 9K | S4 | Complete

It’s Basira who catches onto it.

The collective shift that seems to come over them when heading in or out of the Institute. Not just the oppressive sensation of being observed, their every move catalogued for the voyeuristic cravings of some unseen Eye(s). That feeling remained with them even when they left the Institute these days, but it was always stronger inside its walls. That wasn’t the change. Nor was it the point.

The point was: making life worse for Jonathan Sims.

↳ i think being part of the avengers fandom circa 2012 has given me permanent found-family-trope brainrot, but you know what. jonathan sims can have a little happiness, as a treat.

n. an important moment of insight, typically one that leads to a dramatic transformation of attitude or belief

Or, in which Tim becomes an avatar for the end of all things.

↳ tim dies and then he doesn’t. there is catharsis and world building. just....read it.

Come, Change Your Ring With Me by @backofthebookshelf | 29K | S3 | Peter/Jon, Jon/Martin, Peter/Elias | Complete

The Lukases demand the Archivist marry into the family, and the Institute relies on them too much to say no. Peter is smug. Elias is fuming. Martin is suffering. Jon thinks this might be tolerable if only Peter would hurry up and leave him alone already.

OR, the soap opera we call an Archives revolves around Peter Lukas this time.

↳ superb evil-bastards-in-love content, feat. martin pining, tim being obnoxious, and jon being... well, tired, mostly. i will literally never get tired of how op writes peter.

creatures that i briefly move along by @dotsayers | 16K | Series | AU, Post-S4 | background Jon/Martin

Mr Sims was so weird, was the thing. Miss Grant always said calling people weird was rude, and Anna sort of agreed, but she didn’t know what other word to use to describe Mr Sims.

He’d only been in with the class for a few days, really, and half of that he just sat at the back listening, but that didn’t stop her from making a swift judgement. 5BG had had student teachers before, back when they were 3ST, and they’d been uniformly normal.

Mr Sims was… actually, Anna had a better adjective. He was interesting.

↳ i just.... love teacher!jon fics. this series delivers.

Once Bitten by @apatheticbutterflies | 1K | S4 | Jon & Daisy | Complete

Jon Sims has always been a jumpy kind of guy. Nervous. Twitchy. Daisy used to think it meant he was guilty. Turns out he was. Just not of what she’d thought.

Daisy learns how to peel an orange.

↳ daisy and jon’s relationship is an example of an instance where i’m happy to say “fuck what you wrote mr. jonny ‘chocolate torte of tragedy’ sims, i want them to be friends”.

pins and needles by mutterandmumble | 13K | S1-S4 | Complete

He’s got a reputation to uphold anyways; an uptight, rigid reputation that dictates the way that he interacts and functions and is such an integral part of him that he can’t let go of it anytime soon. He likes his safety nets. He likes his contingencies. He likes his privacy, and everything around this place right down to the walls seems to have ears, so he’ll stay tight-lipped up to and beyond the threat of death.

He’s good at that.

In which Jon takes up embroidery and bumbles through life the best that he can.

↳ out of all the introspective jon pieces i’ve read (and there are many), this one stands out. maybe it’s the symbolism or the characterisation, or maybe it’s the fact that i have an embroidery kit lurking in the back of my closet along with a hundred other half-pursued hyperfixations. whatever. this is excellent.

sleeping in by @ivelostmyspectacles | 5K | S2 | Jon/Tim | Complete

“Who are you trying to convince?”

Jon gives up, letting his head sag against Tim’s shoulder. “I don’t know.”

aka Elias gets tired of Jon and Tim's bickering, sends them away for a "team-building" weekend trip, and is sure to book them a room with only one bed

↳ this has everything you’d need from a “oh no there’s only one bed” fic. someone please get these men therapy.

if you try, sometimes (you get what you knead) by @ajcrawly | 3.5K | S1-S4 | Jon/Martin, Tim/Sasha | Complete

It starts with an abundance of boeuf bourguignon and ends up as a team tradition.

Food and love in uncertain times.

↳ more found family fic, this time with a diverse og!archival staff and food as a metaphor for love. hurt in all the right ways. made me hungry in the process.

#tried to keep this shortish but i might just make a part 2 #people in this fandom are crazy talented #tma #the magnus archives #tma fic recs #fic recs #long post #txt #mine

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bare1ythere · 5 years ago

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A Teacher!Jon Fic rec list

A few nights ago I got Seriously into Teacher!Jon (the idea is really wonderful) and read all the fics I could find for it, so I thought I might as well share my favourites!!

the Teacher from the Magnus Archives by Athina_Blaine Is a cute oneshot fic from the perspective of 13 year old Maggie Abernathy on her investigations into the new English teacher: Mr. Sims. Maggie’s character is really fun and cute to read, and the first part of the fic is from the perspective of the youtube series she’s making on her investigation. It’s really cute and fun and I Really recommend it! Description:

“Hey, everyone, welcome back to my channel. My name is Maggie Abernathy and today we will be continuing our investigation of the, uh, eldritch monster slash English teacher who calls itself Jonathan Sims.”

Maggie is determined to catch Mr. Sims via her channel, and then everyone would see how cool and smart she was, right?

There's a 15th Fear, and it's Teenagers by benevolentmonolithicc is an 11 part ongoing (all snippets and not necessarily connected, though should probably be read in order) teacher jon fic centering on Jon as a year 11 English teacher with his students but ALSO his relationships with other teachers and even some out-of-school shenanigans. This fic is REALLY good y’all. Almost entirely fluff and fairly funny, as well as having reoccurring student characters. I love this fic So Much. Description:

What if Jonah didn't ruin everything? Didn't send the end of everything statement? What do Jon and Martin do now? Get a job, I guess. A teaching job, for Jon, though it was hardly his first pick. But sometimes your boyfriend looks *really* excited when he suggests it, and I mean, you know literally everything. It can't be that bad, right? Right?

nor any more youth or age than there is now by Ravenesta is a collection of connected snippets of Jon as a Primary 2 (which is as far as I can tell 2nd or 1st grade) teacher that are Extremely wholesome and adorable. I don’t really know how else to describe it that would do it justice. It’s SO cute. PLEASE READ THIS FIC. Description:

The local Primary school has a new teacher. He is, to say the very least, odd.

A series of statements regarding the interactions of the townsfolk with one Jonathan Sims, never formally given.

This one isn’t a fic but a Series of (currently) 4 fics: creatures that i briefly move along by couldaughter. This one’s especially interesting because you get to see Jon in a few different roles as a teacher, as well as that the author themself is a teacher which gives this fic a lot of fun specific details about his Training that are genuinely cool to read about! It’s really great. Since I can’t put all four descriptions here, Ill pick the description from one of my favourites:

Jon, as it turned out, was totally fine. He had George patched up with a Pudsey-style bandage adorned with a very poorly drawn Batman symbol and was listening intently as George explained the mechanics of Roblox.

“I see,” he said, as George’s rambling sentence came to an end. “So you can play all sorts of games with it?”

George nodded emphatically. “‘S the coolest game ever.”

teach me someting, Archivist. by PeriPeriwinkle is a slightly angsty fic where Jon and one of his students have an encounter with Helen. I love fics that show Jon protecting his students from the fears, and this is a really good one! Description:

“N-no, mister Sims, it’s just–” Jon looks up, worried. Kenzie certainly sounds spooked, but she’s not looking at him, and rather somewhere behind him. “That door was definitely not there ten minutes ago.”

Helen drops by for a visit.

#the magnus archives #tma #magpod #jonathan sims #teacher!jon #fic recs #fic rec list #shut up me #I LOVE TEACHER!JON

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eturni · 4 years ago

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So, we’re all just piling on the pain first before we leap into Jon’s coffee shop AU fantasies with abandon, right?

The world is static and pain and terror and Jon cannot lose control, will not lose control because he has lost so much to take his place here. Will lose so much more in mere minutes when the others discover what he has done. But Jon is determined to be the line in the sand. This far you have come, and no further. No more passing the suffering on. No more onlookers caught up in terrors they do not understand. No more childish bullies ripped into darkened doors to save someone who should have disappeared long ago.

No more strangers’ stories burning at his throat and in his conscience to maintain his life and the eye.

He has just enough control and maintains it with a trembling in his entire being because he knows what he must do. So used to the feeling of Knowing he pushes it to the side even as he passively drinks in the whole of the broken world; twisted up by it but not consumed. Not yet.

Martin’s rage, when he arrives, is pure and incandescent. It burns with a familiar shame, and every accusation he levels at Jon tear open exactly the wounds they need to. It is not nearly enough to blind Jon to the Sight of the terror that lies beneath it. Martin is so very scared. For him. Of him. Of what this means.

Jon is a monster, is the eye of the pupil, and yet all of the unspeakable horror in the world beyond filters into the back of his mind to leave room for the creeping, dawning terror that grips Martin the moment that he sees Elias and realises all that has happened. His small control of what he Sees grants him only enough freedom to be all but consumed by the terror-grief that he has caused to one of the only good things in his life.

The feedback static of his own fear as he realises what Martin has also already done gluts the eye to a near euphoria; its own pupil locked up with momentary terror.

Jon could not bear to be the one who passed his monstrous position onto even one more person. Could not bear to doom worlds purely because they weren’t his. In the end he doesn’t have to. He just has to have enough love to stay still as the static claws desperately at his brain to try and claim him.

In the end Martin’s kiss and the kiss of the blade do not feel so very different. Each is a promise and a goodbye. Each is laced with more grief than either of them should have had to bear.

And in the end there is a moment, a single one, in which the static and the pinprics of fear have finally, painfully disconnected from him. It is the first time he sees a Martin he truly loves without the terrible lense of an eldritch fear god. It is more beautiful than all the horror combined could be grotesque. He does not know, when the tower beneath them begins to crumble and the edges of his sight go dark, if Martin will survive this or follow him. But in the end the world is all that it should have been for the briefest of seconds and Jon wishes that the price could have been worth it.

#tma #tma spoilers #my writing #I'm honestly just sat here trying to make myself sad at this point

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ashdumpsterpile · 4 years ago

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ASH’S TOP 10 TMA FIC RECS

For @damcrows who is Suffering. (I’ll make a second rec list with only fluff fics I promise <3)

immortal with a kiss by yellow_ caballero

But she probably won’t. Georgie isn’t scared of anything - not a Clown’s apocalypse, not the apocalypse that Jon is destined to begin, and not Jon’s own loss of humanity.

Maybe she should be.

1000/10 the best fanfic in this fandom. It’s got everything: QP Jon/Georgie, Teen!Gerald, Beholding lore, and everyone bullies Jon. (Head trigger warnings)

daisy time travels and jon suffers au by paper_dream

In which Daisy time travels back from the apocalypse, saves Jon from herself, and just kinda forgets he has no idea what's going on.

Daisy timetravels to pre-Buried. Jon suffers.

The Magnus Institute vs the 21st Century: a series of emails and IMs by shinyopals

I'm sure given your position you already know about the advent of the General Data Protection Regulation next year, wrote Peter Lukas, to Elias Bouchard. However, the Lukas family wishes to be crystal clear that our continued investment is contingent upon the Institute taking its responsibilities with regards to privacy and confidentiality seriously.

(Jon is only trying to save the world, but apparently some people think he should still be doing his day job.)

10/10. Fun take on the texting/email trope. Jon pines and destroys laptops. IT suffers.

ceylon, assam, and darjeeling by sciosa

People do not bring Jonathon Sims tea. Martin Blackwood, newly-minted archival assistant, has apparently not received this memo.

It’s about the pining.

ways to save the world by Wildehack

“I left you,” Martin says softly.

Really REALLY good pining, Jon in the Lonely and brief amnesia.

from the highways to the hills, our love has never had a leg to stand on by blackwood (transjon)

She always forgets how observant he is because digging anything meaningful out of him can be a chore. He looks at things. He observes. He catalogues. Georgie is like a library patron trying to check out a book labeled REFERENCE ONLY with a bright red piece of tape wrapped around the spine.

Pre-canon canon compliant character study of Jon/Georgie.

same as it ever was by ajkal2

It’s a nice dress. Classy, if also a little risqué. Set off against dark skin, it looks very good. It would probably work on Jon, actually. He wonders where she got it. Then he remembers he’s at work, and abruptly derails that train of thought.

The women of the Magnus Institute are holding a protest against the sexist dress code of their place of work. Jon is conflicted, and also has a gender for some reason. What's up with that?

THEE they/them fic. Nonbinary Jon? Check. Trans Martin? Check. The Anti-Elias Agenda? Check. Tim in a cocktail dress? Check check check. This fic has everything.

remind me how to smile bytamerofdarkstars

Jon is probably fine, just hiding out somewhere while the whole murder thing blows over and that's... fine. Martin is fine with that explanation. Really. He's got plenty to distract himself - like listening through the entire What the Ghost episode library, for example. Or watching Georgie Barker's Instagram livestreams.

A oneshot during Jon’s stay with Georgie. Tons of fluff.

Milk After Spiders by chewsdaychillin

Warm milk is all he gets.

After that door closes and the world is eerily slammed back to normal, Jon’s legs unfreeze and he stumbles back off the step. Makes the journey home alone and wobbly, no desire left for exploring (it won’t return for a long time).

basically sad jon childhood and adulthood hurt/comfort but the comfort is mad delayed :/

Jon suffers. That’s the fic.

Family, Found by Dribbledscribbles

It’s Basira who catches onto it.

The point was: making life worse for Jonathan Sims.

JON SUFFERS. THAT’S THE FIC.

#tma #tma fic recs #tma rec list #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jon sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jmartin #fanfic #ash recs

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equalseleventhirds · 4 years ago

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i said i wouldn't write it but i did

vaguely a sequel to this, but far in the future and focused on jon (annabelle features briefly tho. she's fine. annabelle will always be fine in my fics.) with ofc the presupposition that they've failed in one world but kept trying, bcos i think that would be fun*!

*(by which i mean heartbreaking, i'm so sorry)

There are rules, to the traveling, or at least there seem to be. There are certainly questions to be asked and points to be made, about how many instances count as a definitive rule rather than simply a pattern. But Jon likes to think of them as rules. He's always preferred concrete answers, even if it turns out they're less the truth and more just a convenient way of conceptualizing things.

So he has rules.

First: the Fears always come through on the same day. October 18, 2018. Or, given the impact history has on calendars, the equivalent of it; he'd once spent months trying to correlate the forty-third moon of cycle 1852 with his calendar just to prove his point, but the math had all worked out.

(Which does indicate, at least to Jon, that yes, the Fears probably did originate in his home world, Georgie. He'll take his petty wins where he can get them. For as long as he can remember the discussion, and the people, he's proving wrong.)

Second, it is still his tapes that the Fears follow. For every apocalypse there has been a new catalyst, but none of these new rituals supersede his. Maybe it's a testament to the strength of the Web's original plan, or maybe it's just something about Jon himself. He knows what he thinks, but... well, there isn't enough proof just yet.

Third, in spite of endless attempts to trap them and stop them, Jon is always able to travel with the Fears. Perhaps they simply can't stop him, as the original antichrist he apparently is; dozens of apocalypses in dozens of different universes, and Jon can always feel his rightful place as ruler of that terrible fearscape calling to him. He hasn't taken it yet, but it's there, and the Eye cannot abandon its true pupil without his permission.

Or perhaps they simply don't care. Every attempt so far has led to the exact same result, after all: another world left behind, another death by starvation averted, another new feast for the Fears to sink their teeth into.

Fourth, he always passes out upon entering a new world.

It's kind of annoying.

---

It is slightly unusual for him to wake up warm, comfortable, and covered in a blanket, but Jon's not about to complain. It's nice. He doesn't get a lot of comfort, and he likes sleeping in a bed, especially since he's always eldritch-nightmare-free in a new world. For a limited time only, of course.

He's fairly certain he's inside; aside from the softness underneath and around him, the air is still and temperate, the light through his eyelids is artificial, and all he can hear is the faint whirring of appliances and the whispers of two muted voices.

"—complete stranger, definitely dangerous, looks like he's from hell—"

"Okay, fine, but I wasn't going to leave him, and anyway haven't you noticed he's a bit—"

"A bit what? Scarred? Bloodstained? Glowing eyes, because I don't think I need to remind you, Martin, his eyes were absolutely glowing when you found him—"

Martin. Now there's a name. Not an uncommon one, but... he thinks he knows that voice.

Or. Well. He might know both of those voices, actually, which is even more interesting than waking up in a bed.

Jon opens his eyes.

He's met himself before, is the thing. Not in every world, and not always particularly recognizable, but he's met himself. He's met versions of Martin, too, and eventually stopped going completely useless with heartbreak every time. The merest handful of times, he's found both of them in the same world, sometimes something almost like friends, but usually not.

The fact that they have their arms around each other, casual, comfortable, close, is both entirely unexpected and perfectly, wonderfully, terribly familiar. Jon briefly considers crying about it, but there are more important things to be doing. For example.

"The glowing eyes aren't actually that sinister. I mean, they are, but not for the reasons you're probably thinking."

Jon—the other Jon—jumps at the sound of his voice, then leans forward. Curiosity, of course; that hardly ever seems to change. "You—the glowing—who are you?"

"Jon," this new version of Martin scolds, and for just a moment he's back home, with his Martin, with that exasperated tone—but no, this isn't his Martin, and he's also leaning forward now, his voice turning gentle. Concerned. Coaxing, like he's a spooked animal, and Jon doesn't think his Martin has ever talked to him that way. "How are you feeling? We found you unconscious in the street."

He can feel Martin's curiosity too, pushing forward under his concern, just as questioning as Jon but too polite to outright say it yet. He has to cut this off, or he really will cry.

"Mm... no," he says. "Well, yes. But also." Good lord, he's confusing them. Par for the course, but he should probably try to be somewhat comprehensible.

He holds up a hand, extending one finger. "I am... fine. More or less. Trust me, I'm used to this, and this isn't even the worst way it's happened." Another finger joins the first. "My name, as I believe Martin has guessed but then dismissed, is Jonathan Sims. I am not you from the future, nor am I lying, nor am I crazy, because—" a third finger "—interdimensional travel is not only possible, it has happened, is happening, because of and along with terrible monstrosities I am determined to stop, and I have explained this too many times to too many people to have much patience for anyone being shocked and disbelieving, much less a version of myself doing so, so you can either get over it and move on or I can go elsewhere and do something useful."

"Excuse—"

"And," he continues, pushing himself up so he can sit and lean forward even more intensely than his counterpart, "I would actually rather not do that just yet, because I have an extremely pressing question for the two of you."

"Um," Martin says, and "What," says the other Jon.

"How," Jon asks, deepening his voice to exude solemn, ominous, and eldritchly important, "did you two start dating?"

---

It was so... normal. Apparently. Two people, mutual friends, a chance encounter. A prickly exterior ("He hated me," both of them had claimed), but without the insecurity of being Head Archivist and the fear of dread powers beyond his comprehension, their friends had helped him open up and—eventually—apologise. A budding friendship, and then a romance, and then...

It isn't a version of them Jon has seen anywhere else, in any of the worlds he's traveled to. Normal as it is, it's a highly improbably scenario, and certainly not the same as his relationship with his Martin had been. But it was, in an infinite number of worlds, still a possibility.

Jon isn't quite sure how he feels about that, knowing that some version of them could have fallen in love without the trauma, but that they hadn't managed it.

His hands aren't shaking, as he lights his cigarette. At least there's that.

"I quit, you know," his counterpart says from behind him. "Years ago. I'd forgotten about those until you asked."

"Well then, thank you for indulging me." He gestures, meaning the cigarette, meaning the bed, meaning his claims about reality, meaning his intrusive, gossipy questioning. Meaning everything. He's not sure it gets across.

The other Jon laughs, quietly, and moves to stand next to him. "I am my worst enabler."

"Oh, that's hardly true."

"Mm." They're silent together for a while, but Jon is restless (both of him), and eventually this reality's version opens his mouth to ask. "Do you—do you know why I—I don't want to say believed you, I'm still not sure I do, b-but, didn't throw you out immediately?"

"My myriad charms?" They both laugh at that.

"Jonathan Sims," he says, as if that explains anything.

Jon takes a drag of his cigarette, considering. He could probably Know, but... indulging himself. "What about me?"

"No, not you, or. You know. You. But your name. Jonathan Sims. I decided you weren't, weren't a deliberate lie to trick me, or a future version of myself, or a mind-reading monster—"

"Well—"

"—when you said your name, because none of those things would have said that." He smiles then and holds up a hand, and—oh—his ring glints. "I've been Jonathan Blackwood for a while now."

They'd told him married eventually, but he hadn't even thought about his name. He's certainly thinking about it now. "Jonathan Blackwood," he says, soft, to himself. And to himself. "That... that sounds good."

"It does, doesn't it."

Whatever they might have said next is lost as an incredibly loud engine roars nearby and a sleek black motorcycle pulls up in front of them. Jon sighs and takes one last drag of his cigarette as the rider removes her helmet.

"Been off finding yourself, then, Jon?" Annabelle asks.

"Oh, extremely funny, yes. Did you steal that?"

"It was a gift."

"Of course it was."

The other Jon is staring at them both, his eyes repeatedly drifting back to the web-covered hole in Annabelle's head. "Who—what is—is that a—"

"She's a spider monster," Jon supplies helpfully. "She came with me, although apparently she did not pass out in the street this time."

"Two streets over, I think. Pity, I would've loved a nice nap in a proper bed, but I did get this motorcycle out of it. Come on, Jon, you can mope on the way."

"I have not been moping—"

"Haven't you? You're not the one who deals with how maudlin you get every time you meet yourself—"

"Yes, fine, thank you, we can go." He stubs out the cigarette and pauses, looking at himself. "Uh. Tell Martin—well, goodbye, I guess. I'd say I hope we meet again, but if you're lucky we won't need to?"

"...sure."

"And I'm—I hope you—that is, I'll do my best—well." He sighs. "Things are about to get... dicey, for the world in general. But just, look out for each other, and we'll try to handle the rest."

"Jon, we should be going."

"Yes, all right, all right." He gives himself one last, probably not very reassuring smile, and climbs on behind Annabelle.

They do have work to do, after all.

#fanfiction #algie writes things #many thoughts head full...........#i am so many theorizing. u kno how it is.#uhhhh so the TINIEST spoilers for the most recent episode? idk #tma spoilers #once again just TINY ones not actually plot ones #at least not that we didn't already get from annabelle's big explanation episode #jm #but also it's complicated #u kno #jon has bittersweet conversations & thoughts and annabelle gets a motorcycle #it's what each of them needs i think

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captaincravatthecapricious · 4 years ago

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You Don’t Understand- Prompt Fill

Jon has a rough time after being absent for 6 months.

Write as a prompt fill gotten through A03

CW fainting, victim blaming, withdrawal/starvation symptoms (from statements) (I am a bit vague about which it is more like because I couldn't choose, so a bit of both), trust issues, very brief Peter Lukas mention, brief mention of someone being touched while unconscious (nonsexual and very brief mention), and cw for some very mixed feelings about Georgie. I understand her, and I don't hate her, but I don't really like her either so please don't get mad at me for how she is written I am trying to do her justice and I get why she does the things she does, but I don't have to like her for it.

Thanks for reading hope you enjoy! I have a few more bingo prompts to post, but only one more to write! Feel free to stick it in my inbox and if no one does, well you will just have to put up with whatever whim strikes me this weekend when I will write it for a backlog! Card by the wonderful @celosiaa

It’s been six months. How has it been six months?

Jon isn’t sure how he is supposed to think about that time. Is it all supposed to feel like a dream, that one moment he’s blowing up, the next he’s awake?

It doesn’t feel like that.

But he also wasn’t really there for six months, was he?

He sighs deeply to himself. It doesn’t matter.

It doesn’t matter.

He’s alive.

He’s fine.

Martin and Tim are sharing a flat, apparently. And that’s good. He thinks? Maybe?

They keep telling him there is room for him, but he isn’t sure he can believe that…. Not after everything with Tim. He wants to believe it… But… what if Martin doesn’t want him there. He thought maybe they had a moment before the Unknowing, but did they?

Jon’s not good with…. Feelings. With people.

Not to mention he’s been Gone. With a capital G and a flatline of a heartrate.

Even if he and Martin could possibly have… Could possibly have had something. Of some unknowable sort. That he couldn’t have hoped to put a word to for fear that it would crumble around him. But he’s been gone and Tim hasn’t been and they seem close now.

And maybe Tim is trying again with him? But how can he be sure? When everything is confusing and out of sync with what he thought of time.

Not to mention the deep hunger that is more than hunger. Deeper in his gut, and harder to ignore. Followed by a fog of confusion and the sense that his skin is too tight, that the world is the wrong temperature, and that everything is tilted ever so slightly, making it impossible to keep his balance.

Reading statements helps, but… Basira… but Georgie. The disappointed glares they send his way when he skulks off to read one in hopes of feeling like his limbs are his again…. That he isn’t being slowly set on fire or slowly frozen. The world skirting by him with a vengeful glee leaving him to rot in his own misery on the shelf in the stacks he’s been calling home recently.

Martin wasn’t there when he woke up…. Working for the ever elusive Peter Lukas. Tim wasn’t there… Martin later telling him he’d been afraid of scaring him. Which Jon couldn’t escape the worry that, in actuality, it was Martin worrying that Tim would scare Jon… or hurt him. Which Jon could tell was the more valid of the worries. Or he thinks it is? How is he supposed to be certain. How can he trust anyone? How is he supposed to trust anyone when Basira gives him such calculating stares, when Melanie glares metaphorical and literal daggers at him, when Georgie has been ignoring his texts (and her harsh words upon his waking). When Martin is working for a literal monster. When Daisy is gone… and Jon doesn’t know how to feel. He wants Basira to be happy, but he feels safer without her. And he doesn’t know how to feel about anything but he is sick and hungry and cold and hollow.

There is no one.

Georgie doesn’t understand.

He runs into her once, picking Melanie up for therapy. After…. An unwise abrupt and shady surgery.

He is in the breakroom. Baffled that Martin is still making him tea when he hardly sees him around. Even more baffled when Tim makes him another cup.

What does it all mean?

(Not to mention his confusion at the green hair… that had been a shock.

When he texted Martin about it, he said to ask Tim, and included an emoji that Jon couldn’t parse out. Weren’t emojis supposed to be easier to read than actual faces? It was maybe resigned? Or maybe regretful?

Regretful of what? Is he ashamed of something? Is he regretful that he opened a text from Jon, that Jon turned down the request to move in? It isn’t that Jon wanted to turn it down.

But it sounds too good to be true? When everyone avoids him at work… Well Tim doesn’t, but Jon is scared of being alone with Tim. He is scared of this kindness and how long it might last.)

So he’s in the breakroom.

Trying to steady himself the less monstrous and terrifying way.

And Georgie is there.

Jon shrinks back on himself. Still hoping the mug of tea will make his hands steadier, make him less cold, less shaky, less miserable. But he’s having difficulty holding it with one shaky hand, white knuckling his cane with the other. Trying not to let it tremble as much as the rest of him, propping himself up when black spots start eating at his vision. Not in the POTS sort of way… but in the same way that has been since America. Since that first hint of fear that maybe… maybe he’s not human, that he is reliant on some horrifying eldritch god of knowledge.

This is the price of him waking up.

And it chews him up from the inside when, in his panic, he tries to limit his consumption hoping that it will turn him back. Hoping that he still has a chance to win back the people he cares about, but fighting the fear that this is the only way to save them all.

He doesn’t know what to do. Being undead doesn’t come with a manual.

And there is no chance that Georgie will take this any better than she did when she kept telling him to quit… to just stop.

He’s trying!

It’s been a few days since his last statement, and the world swims before his eyes whenever he stands. Worse than it ever has. He’s woken up on the floor more times in the few weeks he’s been alive again than in the long and confusing months leading up to his diagnosis.

Which was after Georgie… which… means she hasn’t seen him like this. Not when he was living with her because he has been managing, or so he thought, but hell maybe the Eye had a hand in that.

And oh Shit, she is looking at him now.

What does he do if she wants to talk? She hasn’t responded to any of his texts, or late night calls when he’s been too afraid to call anyone else and she always felt safe. Even when they were fighting. But she hasn’t been there for him. No one has, of late. Except the people who are trying and Jon is too confused to know what to do so he does nothing and an all-consuming guilt joins in with that Hunger. That sickness eating him from the inside with every word he doesn’t consume.

“Hi Jon.”

He can’t say anything. He’s been standing too long, but seeing her there, he is frozen. Fight or Flight breaking down to freeze. Has he always been such a coward?

Yes.

Yes he has. A miserable coward since he was a child. Getting into trouble trying to try to prove to himself that he isn’t.

Christ he’s dizzy. But she’s still talking.

“Jon, you really oughtn’t be here. You don’t look well. Shouldn’t you still be resting? That long in hospital should have you in need of some physical therapy. Are you pushing yourself too hard?”

Jon bites down on the urge to snap at her. Or start crying. Or simply pass out and not have to deal with this conversation at all. “I need to be here,” he says quietly. Afraid that expelling too much air will knock him over.

“And why is that? Really Jon, I swear… Melanie says you haven’t been eating , or sleeping, but she sees you here at all hours. Why? What is this all for? It’s just a job, I don’t care if there are Monsters or whatever. You see this? This is why I can’t deal with you right now! Not to mention what you did to Melanie. What the hell, Jon? You say you’re trying to save the world, but maybe you can’t? Maybe you need to save yourself before you can do anything else.”

Jon just wants to get away before he goes down, and by this point he knows that is inevitable. Maybe get to his office, and open a statement first. Maybe that will help, or maybe it will make him feel better once he comes around. He should put down his tea. He doesn’t want the mug to break if he can’t make it. He’ll set it on the table on the way out, or wait until he’s in the bullpen and put it down and take a seat and hope that helps. He tries to edge around her, staring at the floor. Careful not to say anything that could compel. Just wanting to get out. “Have work to do… sorry.”

“No you don’t! Look at yourself, Jon! Work can wait!”

Jon just wants to leave. He wishes it could! He does. He wants nothing more than to take a vacation. To move in with Martin and Tim and have a life. A home. Safety. Normalcy. And Argument over who finished the milk and who has to do the shopping and not about how best to not die at the hands of Fear Gods, and how best to not serve them. “Please, Georgie you don’t understand…”

He backs away. Fuck he’s dizzy.

“No, Jon I don’t. Explain. What am I missing. Why do you have to do this? Why do you insist on working yourself into your grave? It’s already basically killed you. Maybe some of us don’t want to see you do that again?”

“I… I… I need a Statement….” Well so much for getting away. He’s not even going to make it to a chair or the floor on his own. “Hold this, I’m… I think I’m going to faint now.” He holds his cane out to her.

She takes it confused.

Jon doesn’t remember hitting the floor.

When he comes around, his head is pounding.

Georgie is touching him. He is on his side, and he is being yelled at. He can’t make out the words yet… all just in a haze of pain and confusion and feeling like utter shit. He tries to bat her hands away but he can’t and so he just lays there. Hoping some feeling comes back to his limbs soon. Or that Georgie will just get bored and leave him there.

But then Martin is there. And Tim.

And Martin is shooing Georgie out of his personal space. “He doesn’t like being touched while he’s out.”

Well… correct.

“What the hell just happened?” Georgie.

“Well… it happens sometimes. Did he say anything?” Martin again.

“Something about needing Statement?”

“Tim, could you grab him a Statement?”

“Sure thing, back in a mo.” Tim. More earnest than Jon has heard him in a long time. Tim helping him? If he wasn’t already on the floor, he might have fainted again at that.

“What, you’re just going to go along with it? Let him work himself to death? Look at him! He isn’t well! …I don’t know why I am arguing this. He’s an adult and if he is going to do that, I don’t need to be a part of this. It isn’t my job to baby sit him.” Georgie shoves his cane at Martin, who doesn’t freeze. In fact, as far as Jon can tell through half lidded eyes, Martin looks angry.

“Look. I know we don’t know each other well. But do you really think so poorly of Jon… of me? I don’t know what he’s told you… but he needs those Statements to live. I don’t know if it’s ….a food… or… or an addiction. But … he doesn’t do well without them. And… And Elias was feeding them to him when he wasn’t here. And Jon told me how you didn’t want them in the flat, but he got sick in America. Really really sick, and … and Elias found him there and fed him another one. He didn’t know until then. But… you have to know we can’t quit. And we aren’t sure if Jon can live without these. And it is a far from ideal situation… but we are working on it. You don’t have to like it. Or talk to Jon, although you should. You aren’t enabling him, he needs a support system. And he’s just too thick to see that Tim and I are here from him, and everyone else is giving him the cold shoulder… so I don’t blame him for being too thick to notice! Not to mention, my new position has made interacting with him during work hours… difficult, but I can’t blame him for not wanting to move in yet, although I hope he will. And you! The only person not in this mess who he trusts, ignores him. Blames him! Maybe you should try listening? I get it… you can’t deal with him right now. Fine. I get it. Do what you have to. You don’t have to look after him at your own expense. But don’t be cruel. …Oh good. Tim, thanks. When he comes around, a Statement and some tea will set him right.” Martin smiles at Tim (a smile that makes Jon jealous) and gives Georgie a cool look.

“Marto, I think he’s been awake for most of that.” Tim is crouched by him.

“Haven’t been eavesdropping, promise. Just… just getting my bearings. I’m fine. I’ll be up soon.” Jon’s voice is rough. Misery, unshed tears, exhaustion. Take your pick.

“It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get you fixed up and then you can have a proper rest. Offer of the flat share is still open, okay?” Tim hovers, ready to help him sit when he’s ready.

Jon… doesn’t know what to say. After hearing Martin defend him… Maybe… Maybe he can start working on trusting Tim again. Tim… is, after all, working on trusting him too.

Georgie looks down at him. He can’t read her expression. She looks at him for a long moment.

The gaze isn’t uncomfortable by itself. But Jon feels exposed on the floor. Small and helpless and weak as well as supernaturally hungry, that not at all helped by his “surprise nap.”

He tries to avoid meeting her eyes.

“I’m… sorry I didn’t listen. I… still can’t do this with you right now. But… I’m sorry. I can’t be your friend now, but… let me know if you want some pictures of the Admiral ever, okay?” And she leaves. Off to bring Melanie to her appointment.

Leaving Jon with Martin and Tim.

Who bring him to his sad excuse for a bed, tuck him in with a statement and a cup of tea and tell him to call if he needs anything. And Jon thinks, maybe he will reconsider their offer.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #georgie barker #tim stoker #martin blackwood #timothy stoker #cw fainting #cw victim blaming #cw statement hunger #tma fic #my words #my fic #my writing #my art

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dusty-purple · 5 years ago

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So I’ve been neck deep in the Magnus Archives for a while now, and something that’s stuck in my head, particularly coming into Season Five, is the House on Hilltop Road. You know the one. (Now if you’ve heard this theory before, my apologies, I’m just trying to get this idea out that I haven’t seen before)

See, I have a theory about how this story’s going to end. We know it won’t end happily. This is a horror story; a tragedy. At best we can hope for a bittersweet end, likely with the Archives going up in flames if the increasingly blatant hints from (cough cough Johnny) The Web are correct. But I’m not interested in that.

One statement that’s always stuck out to me is MAG 114, statement of Anya Villete, regarding a cleaning job she took on Hill Top Road. She says that she went into the house, had some strange encounters involving webs and the tree and the Typical Fuckery we expect with Hill Top Road. But it always stuck out to me because of how it ends. She says that she walked out and the world wasn’t Quite Right. She mentions friends not acting like they knew her, her favorite coffee shop being missing, and The Magnus Institue. Specifically that she’s never heard of the institute before.

Now, that could be just because she was messed up by the house or whatever’s wrong with it. But I think it’s something more. I think Anya is from a different world. Not a controversial thought, I don’t think, given what happens in the statement, the inconsistencies Jon himself points out in the closing remarks. But here’s the thing: I think she’s from OUR world.

I think Hill Top Road is a weakening in reality that ties our world to the world of TMA. Anya’s not the only reason. I also think this because of several minor but significant details stated about historical figures that are Wrong, which considering how meticulously researched TMA normally is... well it sticks out. For example, Robert Smirke died in our world in April 1867. In TMA, he dies writing a letter to Jonas in mid February. Small, minor details (aside from the fact that I’m pretty sure Smirke wasn’t researching eldritch fear entities in his spare time), but significant details

And why does this matter? Because of the tapes.

I think the ending will happen however it happens. And I don’t think that the world will be fixed. I don’t think that Jon and Martin and everyone can return the world to how it was. They’re stuck in an apocalyptic hellscape forever. The world has ended. It’s over. They can’t save their world... but they can warn another. They can send the tapes to us, through the hole in reality that is Hilltop Road. And we can receive the tapes, one by one, in the exact order we need to hear them in. We can listen. We can watch. We can learn. We learn about the Archives, we learn about monsters, we learn about the Entities and Avatars, we learn about the horrible tragedy that Jon and Martin and Tim and Sasha and Melanie and Basira and Daisy and everyone endured. but most importantly, we don’t just learn that the Fears exist. We learn how to beat the Fears. We learn that The Lonely is beaten through love, that worms are best killed with fire extinguishers, that certain books need to be left alone, that sometimes a small about of plastic explosives can solve big problems. That rituals are doomed to fail on their own, but if we can mitigate the harm that those who might enact them cause, we can and should help.

Jon has stated repeatedly throughout the series that he started carrying around the tape recorder because he doesn’t want to become a mystery. So the Archivist leaves a lasting record, preserved for all those who might seek its knowledge. Preserved within the hundreds of tapes he leaves us. So that we can learn. So that we can do better. So that we might make a different choice than him. Or, at least, a better informed choice.

Apologies if the formatting is Fucked Up, I had to write this on mobile. Let me know what you think!

*Edited for very unfortunate autocorrect of tape recorder.

#the magus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #tma #tma spoilers #theory #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #hilltop road #its been sticking in my head for a while and wow it feels good to just write it out!#is this what its like for people making statements?#... hm thats a slightly disquieting thought

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anamelessfacelessnerd · 4 years ago

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Spoilers for mag199 ahead folks:

Idk, I’m kinda with Jon on this one. I get that Martin doesn’t want to lose him, I get that none of them can be responsible for the hypothetical actions of people in other universes, but I think squishing out the fears would be the best option as opposed to just passing on the pain.

I also totally agree with Basira that the people making the descison should not be the people who would be least affected either way. Though, I think that idea works better in theory than in practice. Like, right now I’m saying just let the fears die out, but I know that if I was actually in one of the domains I would be begging for Jon to send them away.

I really respect how Jon has all the power yet he still listens to the others and tries to make a descision as a team. I think the fault is of the others who refuse to consider his side.

Also, I resent how everyone, including Jon, treat this as if it’s his fault. He has been groomed since he was a child to cause this apocalypse. He was manipulated by Jonah and Annabelle, and Helen, and Michael, and Not Sasha, and literally every other avatar or monster that he interacted with, as well as many of the normal people he interacted with. It is not his fault that he couldn’t outsmart the literal eldritch horror gods of knowledge and manipulation, and I’m tired of everyone (mainly Basira and Melanie) treating it like it’s his fault.

#the magnus archives #tma #the magnus institute #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon sims #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #basira hussain #melanie king #daisy tonner #georgie barker #sasha james #tim stoker #mag 199 #mag 199 spoilers

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this-is-such-a-bad-decision · 4 years ago

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TMA Epilogue X Critical Role Crossover (Good Cows Edition)

Want to write this fic, gonna make it a post instead because I will never make the time for it otherwise. Spoilers up to the most recent episode for both shows. (TMA Finale and Ep 131 Critical Role.)

We at the Blooming Grove with the Clay family.

Been like two hours since the Mighty Nein went to stop an evil city, little tense but Clays know how to chill, sipping tea around their little table

Clarabelle comes bursting into the house, “TWO DUDES JUST APPEARED OUT OF THIN AIR COVERED IN SHINY BLACK STUFF also they’re bleeding”

Rest of the family comes stampeding out, indeed there are two bleeding humans on the lawn (Martin got hit by debris when the Panopticon collapsed, Jon has been stabbed, y’know) tangled up in tape

Cornelius and Calliope go make sure the Grove isn’t under attack while Constance gives the boys some healing, tries to ask what’s going on but no one speaks the same language (Jon is no longer connected to the Eye so no cheat codes)

JMart pass out from inter-dimensional jet-lag, Clays clean them up and put them to bed

Martin wakes up in the middle of the night while Cornelius is keeping watch (Clays are welcoming but these guys are strangers) and is like “ah, so the giant cow people weren’t a hallucination.”

Language barrier is still there but tea is universal; Cornelius makes some for Martin, ends up holding Martin through some tears as everything that’s happened catches up at once

Good thing the Clays know how to help people in mourning

Martin goes back to sleep, Jon and Martin wake up in the morning and get to be happy and cry about being alive and safe together

Soon as that part’s over thing’s get heavy cause MAG 200 was A LOT and it’s gonna be a bit before either of them are okay with how everything went down

The Clays are very kind and gentle and it only makes Jon feel worse

“Martin. This is the good cow world. We brought evil to the good cows.”

Tbh Jmart were more expecting parallel universes instead of this, but alright

Eventually they start exploring the Grove. It’s a little unnerving when they realize this place is a graveyard, even more unnerving when they realize this place and the Clays are clearly magical (since the only magic in their world is evil), and super unnerving when they realize this place is surrounded by an evil enchanted forest that the Clays won’t let them walk into alone

But no one tries to hurt them or eat them so they settle in and try to figure out where they are going to go from here

Corrin and Colton get back after a couple days, Constance introduces them to the newcomers and then tells Corrin everything about The Mighty Nein and the evil floating city

The next day Corrin prepares the cleric spell Tongues, pulls Jon and Martin aside and casts it on herself so they can have a conversation

Jon ends up confessing everything for the sake of warning them about the evil he’s unleashed on their world (Martin thinks he should hold back A LITTLE BIT for the sake of avoiding an angry mob but Jon gets into his story-telling flow)

Corrin: “Is one of the Fears a giant screaming city floating in the void?” Jon: “What”

Corrin is exasperated by this new wave of bad news, Jon is bemused to learn that his world’s baggage only takes 2nd place for Impending Eldritch Threats

Corrin tells Jon that they’re going to wait for her nephew and his friends to get home, they’ll probably have a better idea how to deal with this problem than she does, in the meantime she’ll see what guidance the Wildmother can offer

Cue Jon and Martin having a million questions on the cosmology of this world, Corrin casts Tongues on him so he can go bother the rest of her family while she goes to meditate.

A week or two passes with Jon and Martin processing their trauma, talking through their differences, and slowly learning more about the world. The revelation that there are non-evil gods is a nice one.

The world doesn’t end, The Mighty Nein return, Jon and Martin realize this is not a world solely made up of cow people

The Nein are VERY grumpy to learn that a new problem has popped up while they were gone, but they agree to take Jmart with them to speak with their various high-powered connections about this threat

The Mighty Nein is a BIG culture shock for Jon and Martin after a couple weeks of chilling with the Clays (not to say the Clays aren’t weird, but their weird is easier to ignore if you can’t speak the language, and I think they are better behaved around guests)

Caduceus is now in charge of Tongues the same way Jester is in charge of Sending

The Nein are varying amounts of sympathetic to what has happened to Jon and Martin considering they now have to deal with the consequences, but I think they generally settle on a similar reaction that they had to Caleb, which is that it’s not your fault if you were manipulated into it; Jon has a hard time accepting this.

The Mighty Nein makes the rounds (Cobalt Soul, Yussa, etc.) (yes, Yussa is fine, no, he’s not going to help with this problem, he’s going to nap for a million years) before getting back to Allura

(At this point various institutions have started to notice an increase in monster sightings and strange new cults popping up worshiping unfamiliar gods)

Allura is ALSO very exasperated to learn about new gods trying to assert themselves, ends up calling in her people

Yup, enter Vox Machina

I’m going to skip a bunch of stuff now because I’m getting tired of typing (also spoilers for the Vox Machina arc going forward)

But basically they do some magic bullshit, follow a similar road map as their solution to Vecna, and they use Jon’s voice (which webbed the Fears up to be dragged into this world in the first place) to pin down the Fears and throw them beyond the divine gate

The Fears proceed to get their asses kicked by Sarenrae and the Wildmother and the Stormlord and all the rest

Not so tough now are ya bitches

Web didn’t even consider that other worlds might have things strong enough to kill it

Got used to a world that didn’t have any gods of love and hope and now you don’t know how to handle it

Anyway, Jon and Martin settle into their new world, get to learn whatever dope D&D magic they want, and live happily ever after.

Feel free to write this if anyone is inspired, the only requirement is that you let me know when it’s posted cause I would love to read it.

#jonathan sims #critical role #the magnus archives #the magnus archives finale #jonmartin #tma finale #martin blackwood #constance clay #corrin clay #cornelius clay #caduceus clay #tma fic #i just love the idea of the web's hubris getting it killed #and I love the idea of jon and martin getting tlc from large cow people #they deserve it after everything they've been through #My writing #my stuff

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ectoplasmfear · 4 years ago

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thoughts on the tma finale under the cut:

After having just listened to the TMA finale, I think my biggest gut reaction and the thing that makes me a bit unsatisfied is just how short the finale of this entire series is. We get a statement on what the entities are (which is a really good statement and i was into it!), the final confrontation with Elias, the whole star-crossed lovers ending with Jon and Martin with Martin revealing that they'd already gone ahead with the plan to destroy the archives knowing Jon was going to martyr himself, then we get WTGFs and Basira in the aftermath of the apocalypse.

I just honestly feel like this should have either been like... a forty five minute episode, or split into two or three parts. For one, the tiny epilogue needed an entire episode, not just a three minute exchange. Maybe Melanie taking the tape recorder after they're done looking and spending some time just describing everything that's happened to Jon and Martin or whoever's listening as a way to tie up her character arc because I still feel like it wasn't ever really finished.

I do have some other complaints though:

The final confrontation with Elias was... honestly a let-down to me? Even aside from the rushed nature of it. Like, presenting how he was before as a victory just seems so absurd to me. This man wanted to live forever as a king of a broken world and he had his mind and autonomy stripped from him to be a blind and impotent security camera for his trouble and you're telling me that he wanted this? He broke down at the end when he realised he was about to die but... idk. Let his smug snake facade fall. If they were going to present it as a win, I don't get the point of having him be this eldritch camera in the first place instead of just a super fucked up avatar monster.

The statement I really liked even if I think taking up a large chunk of the final episode with the classic horror anthology format is a bit odd. It was a good statement though.

The Martin and Jon confrontation... I think I just wanted Martin to be angrier? He was angry but he was mostly upset at the prospect of losing Jon rather than furious at Jon for overriding literally everyone's autonomy so that he could play the role of a hero expressly against Martin's own wishes. I also don't really think that Martin should have gone with Jon into the ether but that's just me, I just think it'd be more tragic that way.

Other than that, it does feel like there's still some stuff that was just left hanging, which is fine they did have a shitload of plot-hooks but I would have liked to get something from Agnes.

I did overall think the ending was good, it just felt very short and sudden for my tastes which... doesn't really live up to the build-up that's been building all season for this specific moment. I'm still kind of hoping we'll get some form of full epilogue, but the chances seem relatively low.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #basira hussain #melanie king #georgie barker #jonmartin #tma spoilers #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #annabelle cane #agnes montague

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pensivetense · 4 years ago

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A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

#tma #the magnus archives #fic recs #long post #i'm not kidding you guys it's long #so be warned before you click read more #pinned on my blog

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