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cozycryptidcorner · 4 years

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The Mad Prince, Chapter 13 (slightly nsfw)

tw: alcohol/drinking, drunken consensual groping.

“What are you doing?” Clementine asks, almost amused.

You’re busy rummaging around all available cabinets in the kitchen, several of them open, plates, glasses, and other kitchenette stuff laid out on the counter. While you’re pretty sure there’s a far better kitchen below your feet, this one appears mostly for aesthetic and midnight snack reasons. You, though, have a very intentional way of searching, fingers nimble as you run your hands over the inner panels, just one.

“I’m bored,” is all you say, as if that’s the only explanation she needs. Unsatisfied with what you’ve found so far, you begin to put everything back, sealing the cabinets firmly on the latch. Jumping down from the upper counter, you continue on your quest on the lower compartments.

Once you resume your rummaging, it doesn’t take you too much longer to find a strangely shaped bottle, glass long and ornately spun around a strange purple liquid. All you have to do is unlock the seal at the top, and the scent of the thin, violet liquid makes your eyes water. You haven’t had a single thing to drink with any kind of percentage since the Starward Matchmakers™ took you into their loving flock, and to say you’ve been itching for a goddamn shot would be an understatement.

“Holy shit,” you half gasp, half wince. Whatever is in the bottle smells like paint stripper, your body is already trying to cough back up the liquor you haven’t even had a chance to drink.

“What are you going to do with that?” The shell slips as a touch of her real personality peeks through, her face scowling before she catches herself.

“Drink it, duh,” you can’t read the label, the large, swooping lettering elegant and filled with opulent promise.

“Is that a good idea?” Clementine prods further, arms on her hips.

“Oh please,” you glance over your shoulder just to make sure no one else is eavesdropping on the conversation, “if I couldn’t keep my mouth shut while drunk, I’d never have a job. Besides, I have a super fun idea.”

“Super fun,” Clem echoes, eyebrows arching.

“Come on, bestie, let’s go find two other players.”

It doesn’t take a lot of time to locate the prince, in his own makeshift office he’s turned one of the rooms into. The desk has a holographic screen hovering just slightly over the slab of dark metal.

He looks at the crystalline bottle in your hand, then back up at you. “Yes?”

“I thought we could have a fun game night.” You say, gently swirling the bottle around and offering it up like a vicious cat bringing its master a dead thing as a gift. “Involving liquor, of course.”

His eyes widen as his brow arches, a quizzical gesture, you’ve come to learn, and you feel his gaze flicker over your shoulder and land on Clementine, who is probably doing her best to appear like she thinks that this idea is the motherfucking best. Then he looks back at you. “And what games are you thinking?”

“Well…” you try to wrack your brain, “I was thinking poker, but I’d be fine with blackjack, diamonds five, lemon lemon…. Or like, old maid. Monopoly, even, if you like.”

The prince blinks. “Most of those are forms of gambling.”

You feel Clementine’s aggressive aura on your back, but you offer up a nonchalant shrug. “I suppose so, but like… we don’t have to play for money or anything. Winner or loser, doesn’t matter.”

There’s a beat of silence, you can see the synapses firing within his brain as he thinks over the suggestion. Then, calmly, he suggests, “I suppose that there are things we can gamble other than money.”

“I like your style!” You shake the bottle, “I was thinking about inebriation.”

”Babe,” Clem says, her voice slightly grated, “fun idea… but no.”

Oh, now it seems like the prince is very much interested, but only on account of Clem’s quick attempt to shut it down. “What do you mean?”

You’re quick to talk over Clem’s continuing protests, “instead of gambling money, the loser of the round takes a shot. Uhhh, but since your body’s like three times bigger, you get to take two.”

“Oh, I get to take two?” He asks, cocking his head with a slightly amused look. And he’s not immediately refusing, either, you knew he wouldn’t, but you supposed he wouldn’t actually consider it so seriously. “Is this something humans do?”

“Yes,” you say, nodding, “for fun.”

“And you would like to play it with me?”

You nod again.

He mulls it over, looking back at a now-silent Clem, and says, “and will you be playing.”

“I suppose,” she says, pursing her lips.

“We were also hoping that Elias would play as well,” you say, almost slyly, “to make it an even four.”

“I will let him know.” He says, completely serious, as though he’s talking about affairs of the state, and not about getting drunk while gambling.

“Okay,” you say, bouncing on the edge of your toes in excitement.

“Okay,” he echoes, as though tasting the word on his tongue.

“See you later, then,” you take a step back, trying really hard not to smile.

“Oh my god,” Clementine mutters as you turn around, quietly enough for only you to hear. “You two are ridiculous.”

“I hear most couples are,” you whisper conspiratorially back at her as the door to the office closes.

“And here’s to thinking you were at your wit’s end just a day ago,” she says, and you can feel the motion of her eyes rolling even though you’re not looking at her. “I can already see you making out with him in your head.”

“Okay but also consider: inebriation makes for honest conversations,” you say, running your fingers along your scalp, “and I plan on having a very calm and collected conversation about things like how many people he thinks are planning to kill me, while you, my dearest and most precious friend in the entire universe, are going to be keeping Elias distracted with your fantastic tits.”

She chokes, scrabbling for words, voice cutting in and out as though her brain is fried. “He does not think my-”

“You may be trained to clock someone’s fighting style twenty klicks away by the way they shake their ass, but I,” you turn around and walk backwards to drink in her glaring face, grinning, “have been teaching myself to recognize carnal lust on sight.”

“Princess,” she says, her voice full of warning, “you’re on thin fucking ice right now.”

“See you later!” You sing, escaping into your room before she sees fit to smack you into the next century.

---------------------------------------------_

“Okay,” you say, shuffling the cards between your fingers, “rules are simple.”

To your right side, the prince, and to the left, Clementine, with Elias sitting across the table. The bottle of liquor is in the center of the table, four shot glasses in front of each person as a grim reminder that you’ll have to drink the moment you lose your hand.

“So the loser of each hand has to drink the shots placed in the betting pool,” you say, cheerfully, “except for Aksanos, who has to take an extra two because his blood alcohol level is more difficult to raise since he’s bigger than my first studio apartment.”

Their first mistake: letting you deal.

“We bet with alcohol shots based on how confident you are with how good your hand is.” You begin to deal out cards, mentally counting to five for each stack. “High card is when you have no matches, two of a kind is when you have two of the same numbers, three of a kind is the same but with three-” etcetera, etcetera. The winner isn’t the important hand, here, it’s the loser. “Folding in this context means that you take the shots you threw into the pot. Any questions?”

“I don’t understand why I have to be here,” Elias says, holding his cards like this is a game of Go Fish.

“I mean any questions in regards to the game rules?” You skip over him, just for the sake of being annoying.

“What does the winner get?” Clementine asks, lounging with one arm swung over the back of her chair. “I think the person who wins first the most should get something.”

“You mean besides an intact liver?” You ask, taking a peek at your cards. Nice, unless everyone has a really fortunate hand, you should be alright this first round. “I don’t know, I’m not exactly in a position to hand anything out.”

All eyes turn to the person with the fattest wallet, and, to his credit, the prince actually looks like he’s pondering the question. “A favor,” he seems to conclude.

“From you?” Clementine asks, sounding suddenly like she’s ready to put her competitive hat on.

“Yes.”

“And what if you’re the winner?” She asks, prodding.

“I suppose that my prize will be peace of mind.” He says, looking at his cards. “Since I won’t have to offer up my services otherwise.”

“Awesome,” you say, reaching over and pouring the potent liquor in every single one of your shot glasses, sliding one into the center of the table. “Let’s begin.”

When you first pitched the game, you thought your only real competition would be Clementine. After all, you’ve seen soldiers like her lay waste to the poker tables before, especially since ceasefires make for bored tacticians with little outlets for their strategies. As predicted, Elias continuously seems to either fold or lose, he doesn’t seem to have much of a grasp for the game in general, nor does he even care to try. The prince, however?

He starts out slowly, cautiously. Like he’s testing his boundaries. He folds once or twice, watching you closely as he throws back his shots of purple liquor. After you’ve leapt into a significant lead, the thrum of hot alcohol from your folds burning through your blood, he seems to take a sharp turn and starts winning, as in, beating you as time eats into the night.

As you shuffle the card stack once almost every hand possible could have played, you observe him closely. He’s staring at your hands, intently, watching the way your thumb flicks one half into the other, head shifting slightly as you twist your wrist to part the deck once more. Almost in an accusation, you don’t look down at your hands as you shuffle, knowing this movement by heart, and then begin tossing everyone their cards.

Elias doesn’t even look at his hand as he folds, face and ears a mottled blue as he nurses a glass of water. Clementine is ‘resting her eyes’ for ‘just a minute,’ head slumped over on the table, her bra hanging from the side of the chair (when did she even take that off?).

The prince has already learned to only look at his cards once, hand over the backs, then gauges you for any sort of reaction as he pushes his filled shot glasses in. Luckily, though, the more you drink, the less your face works, so all you offer up is a resting bitch face that would kill any human man, matching him without hesitation.

You lay your cards out, revealing a four of a kind.

He lays his out, revealing the same hand… but with straight aces.

Four shots. You have to take in four shots.

“Careful,” he says, as though he has no cares in the universe, “I hear alcohol poisoning is a terrible way to go.”

You drink the first, wiping your mouth with your sleeve and refusing to give him the satisfaction of wincing from the burn of the liquor. “I’ve had worse.”

The second shot is harder to drink without making a face, you think your nose twitches despite your attempts not to move.

Your body is sending warning signals to your head as your fingers wrap around the third shot glass, not exactly nauseous yet, but with the knowledge that you definitely will be if you finish what you started.

“I fold,” the prince says just before the liquor hits your lips.

“What?” It takes you a moment to process what he just said.

“I fold,” he repeats, pushing his winning hand to the center and grabbing the remaining shot glass.

“You can’t fold after you’ve played the round,” you say, though your body screams in relief at not having to finish the shots.

“I don’t remember that being in the rules,” he says, “besides, it’s not going to be fun if you’re passed out on the table like your friend here.”

“-’m wrake,” Clementine mumbles, her words so slurred you can barely recognize their meaning.

You wait for a beat, then put the glass down and push it in his direction. “Fine. Here, don’t forget the extra.”

“I would not dare,” he says, amusement in his tone. True to his word, he pours another shot, drinking all three in quick succession.

For a while, you didn’t think he was getting drunk, blaming his more spidery bits for his supposed immunity to alcohol, but the more you stare, the more you notice unusual symptoms in his body. Like the flushed skin around his eyes and nose. Or the way his shoulders slant as he sits. How he’s started to rest his chin on his hand.

Slowly, you begin to shuffle the cards, keeping an eye on how he seems to be watching you with more intensity than before, and you realize something. Oh, oh, for fuck’s sake, you should have noticed it before, but now that he’s drunk, he’s not hiding it so much.

“You’re counting cards,” you accuse.

“And you’re playing with a marked deck,” he responds just as snidely.

You hesitate for just a moment because you hadn’t expected to actually get caught, and then you realize; oh. OH. That’s how he started making a heavy-hitting comeback, he figured out the almost nonsensical pattern on the back of the cards is actually a code.

Fuck.

And then you think further, hands folded like you’re praying. Yes, your mind is clouded with drink, but you’re still capable of weighing the pros and cons of an extremely critical concept. It’s not about the how he figured it out, you decide, but the fact that he quickly adapted, continued playing, and even started winning… without saying anything. He could have demanded a new deck in the face of fairness, but he didn’t.

That’s so…

So…

“Hot,” you say out loud.

“What?” He sounds confused.

“I mean,” you lean back in your chair, clarifying, “if you’re going to continue being so smart and attractive, I’m going to have to have sex with you.”

Elias coughs into his glass, bless him, you forgot he was even there, with his eyes bugging out of his skull. ”Keias,” he almost sounds like he’s begging, “please excuse me for the night, I’m afraid in order to best serve you, I will need to rest and recover.”

“You are dismissed,” the prince says, face a shade of blue you didn’t think he was capable of having.

And oh boy, does Elias leave like the entire goddamn room is on fire, though with the efficiency of an incredibly drunk individual. Even though his first few steps are wobbly, he still manages to flee the thick sexual tension your aura is probably emanating through the air, shooting out the door and disappearing into the ship.

Mercilessly, as soon as the door shuts, you turn back to the large drider at the receiving end of your arousal. To his credit, he seems to be so unused to blatant invitations to use someone’s body like a goddamn carousel that he’s at a loss for words. On the other hand, you have a variety of positions you would like to try out if what the anatomy charts they showed you back at the Starward Matchmakers™ are accurate.

But first… you need to take some measures to dull the oncoming hangover.

“Let’s raid the kitchen,” you say, knowing the sudden change of pace will give him whiplash.

“I’ll call someone to carry her to bed,” the prince says, gesturing to Clem’s body, “someone who isn’t inebriated.”

“Excellent idea,” you say, knowing full well you would drop her halfway through the hallway and somehow end up breaking both your noses in progress.

A servant is ridiculously quick to retrieve her, as though they had been lying in wait just outside the door at the prince’s beck and call, but you find yourself not caring about that creepiness factor in the face of food.

“Shall I call the chef?” He asks as you push through the doors leading into the kitchen.

“Nah,” you say, “they’ll need all the sleep they can get for the breakfast we will collectively want tomorrow. I can cook, I’m not an animal.”

Already, your vision blurs as the last two shots fully hit your system. Even with the glass of water you absolutely chug like a dehydrated lava scrapper, you know it’s going to be a hot minute before you start seeing straight again if you don’t start shoving carbs down your throat. So, quick as you can, you start rifling through the many different cabinets and the three (?!) refrigerators to locate something that your drunk stomach positively craves.

“Normally,” you say, “during my nights out, I go to one of those hover-stands that park out by the clubs and stuff specifically for the drunk hungry people leaving. I don’t know how to describe just how good Abuelita’s Tacos are when it’s three am, and you’re stumbling out of the club, exhausted.”

“And is that something you often do?” He asks, voice slightly slurred.

“It’s a good way to meet people,” you climb up one of the counters, rifling through bags of food with labels you can’t read. “Especially if you’re freelance. You never know who needs to transport cargo if you don’t start asking around.”

“Mmm,” he muses, “and do many pilots tend to frequent bars for customers?”

“Only the ones that aren’t in a guild or privately hired,” you say, hopping down from one counter and heading for the other.

“And you’re not?” He’s wheedling you for information, but you’re comfortable with offering up more than usual.

“Do I strike you as someone who likes being told what to do?” You ask instead of answering. “Oh, my god, the guilds have so many rules. Cut your hair like this, wear these clothes, go to those places, don’t do drugs. Gets old fast when someone is in charge of how you live your life.”

“Hm, we will have to agree on that.” The way his hands are cradling his head is… cute, you think. “Unfortunately, sometimes we don’t have a choice.”

“Yeah I’ve heard that your mom’s a mega-bitch,” you say, surprised that you’ve never outwardly spoken against the queen before.

For a moment, you think you’ve gone too far, but then he laughs. He laughs. And it’s a beautiful laugh, you think, head empty but for the warmth of the sound. Sweet. Gentle. Nothing like the stories of a cruel, maniacal shriek, you have to stand there, speechless, committing that fucking delightful voice to memory.

“What?” He asks when he notices you’re uncharacteristically still.

“You’re cute,” you say, resuming your hunt. Aha, bread! Finally! Your stomach gurgles with joy, and your liver sighs with relief.

“Oh,” you can hear a bashful tone tangled with his words. “Thank you. It’s not every day I am observed to be so.”

“Well, I suppose I’ll just tell you every day from now on.” You find a knife and a slab of plastic you assume is a cutting board, and unwrap the bread from the clear wrapping plastic. Everything in your body screams for protein, so you begin to rummage through the fridge for anything that smells vaguely like it will satiate the craving.

Once you bring a pile of stuff to the counter, the prince says, almost like he’s taking a gamble, “you’re not exactly what I was expecting.”

You start cutting slices of bread. “You mean today? Or just in general.”

“You were such a meek little thing when we first met,” he says, almost dreamily, “I was afraid you would be so easily crushed by my enemies, and so I tried to protect you like a little, delicate flower.” He holds his hands out, as though simulating how he might hold the aforementioned plant.

“But?” You prod, adding a slab of… meat? Maybe. Cheese? Also maybe. It’s a gauntlet of stuff you’re adding to your strange sandwich.

“But, I now see that you’re a manipulative, lying cheat.” Even though those words should make your heart sink, he says them with such fondness you don’t feel an ounce of rejection. “It takes a very smart person to outdo my careful planning, and you’ve done so many times.”

You lick your thumb clean of a spread you found in the door shelf, finding it strangely savory. “And… you like that?”

“Absolutely,” he says with no hesitation. “You challenge me in all the best ways. No one does that, not anymore.”

Trying to come up with a response that doesn’t involve crying on the floor, you slide the finished sandwich in his direction. “Oh.”

“That wasn’t very romantic,” Aksanos seems to realize, eyes snapping back into reality. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to sound so terrible-”

You kiss him. Hard. Without the tentative shyness you had kissed him with before. Oh, no, this kiss is hungry, it’s starving, it’s full of desperation and adoration, laced with heated attraction and stifled desire. It doesn’t take long for you to introduce a tongue to this equation, and even though you don’t think he’s familiar with that concept, he’s a fast learner.

The cold metal of the counter presses up against your ass as you use it for leverage, lifting one of your legs and slinging it over his waist, pulling him closer. His hands come to rest on your hips, gilded claws pressing through your clothes, you can tell that he’s unsure of what your boundaries might be. So you help him out, breaking the kiss long enough for you to find the hem of your shirt and lift it up over your body. Just as quickly, you unclasp your bra, tossing it to the side.

He stares at your breasts like he’s never seen a pair of naked tits before, and you suppose that anatomy differences between your species might be throwing him for a loop.

“Wow,” he says, and immediately looks like he regrets it.

You laugh softly, tracing his jawline with your fingers. “Thanks, I grew them myself.”

And then you’re kissing him again, guiding his hands up to your chest as a way of encouragement. He’s careful and slow, the cool sharpness of his claws ghosting over your skin, lips and fangs so eager to please. There’s a heat building between your thighs, one that the seam of your pants only marginally relieves as you grind up against his waist.

“Give me your hands,” you manage to whisper, breaking away from him long enough to draw breath.

He’s a tad confused but obeys.

“I’m going to show you where to touch me,” you murmur, “but those knives strapped to your fingers need to be off.”

“Good idea,” he breathes in agreement.

You take his dominant hand in both of yours, taking a quick moment to kiss the heel of his palm. Then, carefully, you reach for the piece of clawed jewellery on his index finger, picking at the clasp with your fingernail until it comes loose, pulling it off and setting it to the side. You keep your hands as steady as you drunkenly can, knowing each individual ornament is worth more than what you would make in a year.

Next, pants- you need to get the last barrier between him and you off and gone. Hands shaking, you manage to undo the button just above the zipper, clasping that tiny piece of metal between your fingers-

The door opens to someone who looks like they immediately regret every single life decision that’s led them up to this point. And, in fact, they look like if you and the prince weren’t staring at them at this very moment, they would duck out and act like they never laid witness to this mess.

“A- a thousand and million apologies-” they begin.

“State your business.” Like a switch is flipped back on, he’s a regal and terrifying monarch again.

“It’s first shift for the kitchen staff, my keias, I didn’t- if I had known-”

You look up at the clock, realizing just now how late- or early, really, it is. If you were still on the planet, the prince would be getting up to start his duties soon, so... conceivably? A cook would need that head start for a fancy breakfast.

“Yeah, thanks,” you say, twisting your body to protect your nakedness as you find your shirt. Though, through your panic and drunkenness, you can’t seem to locate your bra. Oh well, the sooner you’re out here, the better. “Sorry we wrecked the place, this should have been a bedroom activity, anyways.”

And then you drag the sole heir of Lolth’s monarchal throne out of the kitchen before he decides to kill that poor cook.

#drider #exophilia #monster boyfriend #monster lovers

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spookyboywhump · 3 years

Text

There might be some more follow ups for Doll but for now, a reunion (with some bonus plot stuff uwu)

Also I should’ve clarified this before but this whole lil Doll arc takes place some time in the future from when they’ve gotten out

CW: Past pet whump, dehumanization, mute whumpee

***

Unfortunately, the man wasn’t particularly helpful in providing information about his life before Nicholas. If anything, he seemed to panic when asked, which meant they were struggling to find his real identity and by extension, anyone who could possibly help him. He didn’t match any missing persons reports within the last several years, he couldn’t remember his name, it almost seemed as though whatever life he’d had before simply ceased to exist. The thought of it made Eli shudder.

Due to the difficulty he was having, he was quite surprised when Lane stopped by the room, opening the door to speak to him.

“Hey, somebody’s here for him.” They said, gesturing to the man.

“What? Did you figure out who he is?” He asked, confused that they could’ve managed to do that before even he knew anything. At the very least, he would’ve liked to have known before now.

“Sort of. Turns out his old employer has some sort of partnership with us, someone here must’ve let them know or something, they didn’t really tell me all the details.” They shrugged “From the way it sounds though, our little friend there was involved in some shady shit himself”. Eli wasn’t sure how he should feel about this, he looked to the man who seemed nervous, keeping his head down now that Lane was here. He figured if something was wrong, if this person shouldn’t be here, then he could stop things before they got bad.

“Alright, send them in…” He said hesitantly, and Lane nodded, stepping away. It only took a few moments for this person to appear in the doorway, a tall dark haired man with a worried look in his brown eyes, which widened the second he laid eyes on the man sitting across from Elias.

“Lexi…?” He said softly, and of all the reactions Eli expected from him, none of them matched the one he saw.

The man, “Lexi”, was staring at him with wide eyes but he didn’t look excited or relieved, he looked terrified, and after only a moment of recognizing this person he abruptly jumped up, trying to back away only to trip over his own feet, falling to the floor and causing Eli to jump up to help him, however the other man seemed to already be trying to do the same. Every step closer he took though, Lexi would back away, until his back hit the wall, he curled up while still staring at the man.

“Lexi, please, you, you know me-“ He said, but the man kept shaking his head, repeatedly mouthing the word “no”, and as he stepped closer Lexi suddenly threw his hands up to cover himself, as if expecting to be hit, and that’s when Eli finally got between them, forcing the taller man back.

“Leave him alone, can’t you see he’s terrified?!” He snapped, and the man backed off immediately, something Elias hadn’t quite expected.

“I’m sorry- I just- I haven’t seen him in years, what’s wrong with him?” He asked, and Eli looked back at Lexi who was still curled up, still mouthing the word “no” and looking at Eli desperately.

“I need you to back away from him, please.” He said, calmer this time. The man obliged, still looking worriedly at Lexi as Eli finally moved away from between them, glancing down at Lexi. “Do you need to say something to him or to me?” He asked, picking up the notepad and pen, to which Lexi frantically nodded, reaching his hands out and grabbing for them, Eli quickly handing them over to him. While he frantically scribbled on the paper, Eli looked to the man. “Can you tell me your name? And his name for that matter- how do you know him?” He asked.

“My- My name is Leon Morales, and that-“ He pointed to Lexi, “Is Alexei Antonov. He’s my boyfriend, we were together for three years before he went missing when he was twenty-five.” As he spoke, he fumbled with his wallet, pulling out an old ID card that very clearly showed the man on the floor, along with all his important information. He handed it to Eli, and he decided to hold on to it to show Alexei once he’d calmed down. He looked over at him now and he’d stopped writing, holding the notepad and pointing at Leon, staying relatively calm when Eli took it and handed it to the man. Leon’s eyes widened as he looked it over, and Elias waited until he offered it to him to take it and read it over.

Go away go away go away he’s going to kill you if you speak to me you have to leave you have to go before he finds out master doesn’t like you master said he would kill you and I can’t let him kill you please just go before he finds out I’m not yours anymore I’m sorry go away go away go away go away. He’d written it over and over, becoming less legible the longer it went on. It made Eli’s blood run cold just to read it, and he took his time to think about what to do next before looking to Leon.

“You don’t need to leave for good, but can you wait outside the room for a few minutes? I’ll come get you when he’s ready.” He said gently, and after sparing a worried glance at Alexei, Leon nodded, leaving the room and shutting the door behind him, letting Elias focus all his attention on Alexei now. He took it as a good sign when he didn’t flinch away when he got near, still watching him warily though. “Is it alright if I sit down with you?” He asked gently, and Alexei nodded.

He sat down in front of him, still holding the notepad and pen in one hand, but the other still had the ID card, which he held out to him.

“Is this… is this you…? Can you remember…?” He asked him. Alexei took it from him, taking his time looking it over before he slowly nodded. “Do you remember that man? Was he your partner?” He asked gently, and Alexei nodded. He couldn’t help but notice tears shining in his eyes. He reached for the notepad again and Eli gave it to him, staying on the floor with him while he wrote. His hand was still shaking but he went slower this time, less frantic than his previous outburst, and after some time he handed the paper to him.

Leon was my boyfriend. I loved him very much but master didn’t like that. He said if Leon found me or if he got near me or if he ever spoke to me or touched me then he would kill him. I told master I forgot about him. Don’t tell master but I still love Leon I don’t want him to be hurt. Tell him to leave, please, tell him I love him but he has to leave

“I… I don’t think you need to worry about your master.” He said slowly. “I promise, he’s not coming after you, he’s not going to hurt you or Leon. You… if you want to, you can go home with him. I promise you, you’re safe now…” He said. Alexei still didn’t look too sure of this, reaching up and wiping at his eyes. “Do you want to talk to Leon? I can give you two some time alone if you’d like…” He offered, and after a while of thinking it over Alexei nodded. Elias left the notepad and pen with him before getting up, leaving the room to find Leon anxiously pacing the hallway.

“Is- Is he okay?” He asked immediately, a scared look on his face.

“He’s… He wants to talk with you.” He said, avoiding answering the actual question. “You can go in by yourself, I’ll stay out here but you can come get me if you need anything.” He said, opening the door for Leon. He left it cracked this time, without Alexei’s voice he wouldn’t hear a shout or scream if things went wrong so he tried to just barely listen in just in case anything happened.

Things were quiet for the duration of their conversation, Eli could just barely hear Leon as he was speaking quietly and calmly. It sounded like it was going well, it lasted for a while, and finally, Leon came back to get him. He looked better, almost hopeful now.

“He, Uh, he wants to tell you something, he’s writing it down now.” He said, and Eli followed him back into the room. Alexei finished up soon enough, and Eli hoped for the best as he read it over.

If you really mean it that my master will not hurt us then I’d like to go home with Leon. I would like it if I could still contact you somehow just in case.

“Of course, I can leave you a way to get in touch with us without having to make a phone call.” He said, scribbling something down on the same paper. Beneath it, he left a simple message, If he is making you do this you can tell me now and I’ll make him leave. Alexei smiled just slightly when he saw it though, making eye contact with Eli and shaking his head before tearing the page out, folding it up and keeping it close to himself. He handed the notepad back to Eli, and he flipped through it, tearing out just a few pages of important things Alexei had written down before giving it back to him. “You can keep this, you probably need it.” He said, and Alexei nodded. He already looked to be doing better after his talk with Leon, and really all Elias could do was hope this would be good for him.

***

He left work late that day. There was a lot of paperwork to do before Alexei could get out of there, and after that he returned to his desk to find Lane had left part of the report from Elle, stuff about their owner that would be important to include in Alexei’s file. It took him time to read through it all, horrified by what he read about their owner, and then it took even longer for him to write up the necessary reports. He was one of the last people to leave that night, and instead of going home he ended up at Zander’s house. Right now, he felt that he needed him.

Now he laid on his bed, staring up at the glow in the dark stars stuck to his ceiling. Zander was at his desk, Eli hadn’t seen what he was doing on his computer and he didn’t really care all that much, still mulling over the events of the day. After a while of a comfortable, relaxing silence, he spoke up.

“I met someone today.”

“Really? Someone interesting?” He asked.

“Yeah. His name is Alexei. He can’t speak.”

“He’s mute?”

“He was made that way. He showed me the scar.” He said, and finally Zander turned around to face him.

“Somebody cut his vocal cords…?”

“Nicholas did. Or- he had somebody do it.” He said, anxiously fidgeting with his fingers where they rested on his stomach. “He- He used to belong to Nicholas, he was his last pet, he was, he… Nicholas said that I reminded him of him…” Zander didn’t say anything at first, and that was enough for Elias to keep going. “He- He almost looked like me too, our hair is kinda different colors- I mean obviously, since mine is fucking teal but like, his isn’t that far off from my natural color, he has blue eyes and freckles, he’s close to my height, that… that can’t be a coincidence, the way Nicholas acted with me…”

“Eli, I’m sorry…”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t my problem anymore! Alexei is the victim here, I’m just overreacting!”

“You’re not overreacting.” He assured him. “You know that both of you can be victims of Nicholas’.”

“I know, I know but… I feel stupid complaining when Alexei was rendered mute and then thrown away like he was fucking nothing! That fucking bastard got bored and threw him away- and fuck, did you know about their owner?!” He sat up now, looking at Zander.

“Kid, you’re gonna have to be way more specific than that.”

“His name is Robert Arison-“

“That name rings a bell but I heard a lot of names in my time there.”

“He worked with Cain, he dealt with international pet trades- do you realize how fucking big that is!” He didn’t wait for an answer, he knew Zander knew better than anybody. “That’s a whole other fucking issue, god it feels like it’s never fucking ending and we’re running out of room for the rescues- not everyone has friends or family readily available, if it hadn’t been for someone tipping off his old employers I’d still be completely lost with Alexei!” He groaned, anxiously running his hands through his hair. “I know it’s good, I know, I know we’re helping as much as we can but I just… I feel like it’s not enough…”

“You’re doing as much as you can…” Zander said gently. “Not to mention, this is still a fairly new operation for all of you, right? It’s going to take some work to organize everything to run smoothly. I think you’re doing pretty well, especially given how stressful it must be for you in particular.”

“We’re doing well but it’s… I don’t know if it’s enough, especially at the rate we’re getting people out of there… not to mention, we don’t even have the authority to deal with the fuckers holding them hostage and the actual authorities are fucking useless.”

“You can thank Charles Whitaker for that.” Zander muttered.

“Well fuck Charles Whitaker! Fuck him, and fuck Cain Whitaker, and fuck Nicholas and Clement and Robert Arison, fuck all of them!” He cried, snatching up one of Zander’s pillows and burying his face in it, letting out a muffled scream. He felt the mattress dip next to him as Zander sat with him, draping his arm around his shoulders. He leaned into him immediately, finally relaxing at his touch. They were silent for a while, Zander holding him close, before he finally spoke up.

“I… I want to help…” He said slowly.

“You are helping…” He murmured.

“No, I mean I want to help.” He said more seriously this time, and Elias finally lifted his head to look at him. “I… I mean it’s probably way too late, it’s been months but… if that offer from your boss is still open…”

“Zander… you don’t have to do that… I’m just bitching, you don’t…”

“No, I’ve been thinking about it for a while actually.” He sighed. “I was there for seven years. I lived surrounded by those people, I know them and I know what they do- and I know how the dogs think. If I can help then… then I’d like to…”

“You know it’s difficult… it’s exhausting and sometimes scary and I… I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for.”

“I can’t sit around here forever. Truth be told it’s probably a fucking miracle in terms of jobs I could have right now, and if I have information that could be helpful then I should be there with you. It’s not really fair for me to stay away.” Eli knew he was kind of right, knew he could be more helpful than any of the clueless fucks running around trying to handle this- himself included. His boss hadn’t brought it up since he first told her Zander declined but he figured it couldn’t hurt to bring it up again.

He just sincerely hoped Zander was making the right choice.

***

Tag List: @ihaventwritteninsolong , @galaxywhump , @legallylibra , @to-whump-or-not-to-whump , @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi , @as-a-matter-of-whump , @grovegrocer , @renkocchi , @whumpasaurus101 , @inky-whump , @lonesome--hunter , @ladygwennn , @simplygrimly , @withering-whump , @lave-e, @whatwhumpcomments , @thatsthewhump , @just-another-whumper , @starnight-whump , @unicornscotty

#plot stuff #my writing #my oc’s #wren #zander #Alexei #leon #mute whumpee #past pet whump #dehumanization #Oooooo important plot things happening #I swear we’ll return to whump eventually

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

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Chapters: 6/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter Summary: Martin considers the repercussions of their argument, and he gets "his" stuff back from storage.

New chapter of my post-canon fix-it!

Read on AO3 above or read here.

Tumblr master post with all chapters is here.

***

The only word Martin could think of to describe the way he felt that morning was hangover. He woke up even earlier than usual and extricated himself from beneath Jon, who was entirely oblivious to the outside world. At least they had managed to communicate something, although it wasn’t the way he would have preferred to do it. At least they had made up, although he knew the actual fallout likely remained to be seen; arguments like that always seemed to twist their way back around.

Some of what Jon had told him was disturbing. He wished he knew what had come from Jon on that last day, and what had come from something that wasn’t Jon. Martin still couldn’t picture him willingly destroying the world. The idea that everything might have been different, that he might have been able to save Jon from that decision if he had just woken up that night, was hard to process. On the other hand, now that they were here, he had a new appreciation for Jon’s insistence on not letting the fears out. It was bad enough that they were responsible for the end of just two people in one dimension. The damage wasn’t just theoretical, and of course Jon had likely understood the possibilities in a way Martin couldn’t have before.

If he was being very, very honest, though, the thing that hurt the most was what Jon would have been willing to do to him. Before, it had felt like abandonment; Jon had been willing to leave him. It was that simple, and that selfish. It wasn’t that he didn’t rationally understand how it could be reasonable, or even an act of strength, if Jon really thought it was what he’d needed to do. It was that he himself could not have been that reasonable or strong about it. He didn’t believe he could have made a decision that would have led to them being apart, and like he’d told Jon—it had hurt that Jon could.

Now, though, he realized Jon had never seen it that way. Jon had sincerely believed that becoming the pupil of the Eye would not have changed him. He had believed he wasn’t sacrificing himself, that they could have still been together. He’d said that. Martin had almost forgotten, because he’d been trying so hard to tell Jon that Melanie and Georgie and Basira had been on their way to blow up the gas main, but now the words came back to him: We can be together, here. Until it’s over. And then—when that had failed—Jon had tried to send him away, but Martin understood now that even that hadn’t been a separation. Not for Jon, the way he was then. Jon would have kept Martin living in that world, whatever the cost, while he tortured himself driving it to its end.

Of course, it was also possible that the Eye had such a hold on Jon at that time that none of those thoughts had really been his—but if that was the case, there was no way Martin was going to allow him to do anything that would help him reconnect to it. He wouldn’t help Jon lose himself again. Whatever he wanted to do here, there had to be another way.

He had no idea how to approach any of this, and he certainly didn’t want to confront Jon with it when he woke up, so he decided to focus on something else instead—like his neck. It hurt. He supposed that made sense, given how he must have slept. After an unsuccessful attempt to stretch it out, he moved on to pick up the papers that were still on the floor. It hadn’t felt right to pick them up while Jon was gone; he’d wanted the reminder of why Jon wasn’t there, so maybe he wouldn’t let things get so heated the next time. He’d told himself he’d pick them up later, but then he’d fallen asleep and Jon had come home and it just hadn’t happened.

By the time he needed to wake Jon, Martin had decided that, for now, he was going to continue to do whatever Jon would allow to support his efforts. He didn’t imagine there was any chance Jon would slow down of his own accord, and at least that way he could make sure he was ok. The worst-case scenario would be if Jon started keeping secrets.

Jon was tired that morning. Martin could tell Jon had the same emotional hangover that he did, but it seemed like more than that. He occasionally stopped to stare distractedly into nothing. He took so long in the shower that Martin had to check on him twice, and ended up finding things to do in the bedroom until Jon was done. He was worried when Jon slipped his arm through his on their walk to work. That wasn’t a normal thing; Jon seemed to be relying on him to keep walking. Martin asked if he was ok, and Jon nodded absently in a way that wasn’t particularly comforting.

The fact was that he seemed to be getting worse, not better.

***

They were somehow only a little bit late, not that anyone was paying attention. Martin had to enter some updates in their online system, so he spent the morning at his desk. Tim was back from his investigation and Sasha was in her office, and despite his worries about Jon it was almost a nice morning with the four of them together. That concerned him; it meant he was getting too comfortable.

As he worked, checking records and following up on notes he’d made the previous week, he discovered another reason for concern. He realized for the first time that some memories of this world had blurred into others, his real memories, with no specific moment of revelation. He very clearly recalled several weeks spent tracking down some files that had been returned to the main library instead of the archives, and he didn’t realize until he was shaking his head over the enormous waste of time that it had only happened here.

Although it was an unimportant memory, it brought up a lot of questions. They still didn’t know exactly what had happened to the Jon and Martin from this world, and clearly they were connected somehow. What if Martin stopped being able to tell the difference between memories from the two worlds? Or worse, what if memories from this world were replacing memories of the one they came from? What if that was why it was so easy to feel occasional moments of contentment—because he was actually forgetting what had happened?

He automatically began to run through his memories, just to see, going backward from the moment they had arrived here. The tower, the panopticon, Annabelle Cane; his slowly expanding terror as Jon had grown more and more drawn to it all. The fear domains, all of them, but especially the corpse roots and the apartment fires and the domain that belonged to him—where people suffered without even the comfort that another living being knew or cared for their existence.

The cabin in Scotland, where everything had gone irretrievably wrong. How had it happened? He had left Jon alone, for one thing. Maybe he should have stayed, but he couldn’t have known. Jon had been trying not to know things, which should have been right. Avoid using evil powers. It still seemed like it should have been right. That was the worst part, wasn’t it? Every wrong decision looked like the right one. It had been so much worse for Jon, of course. If Peter Lukas had been able to see into him like Jonah Magnus could—if he had not pushed it just a bit too far—Martin could have very easily been the one to set off an apocalypse. Instead, he was thrown into the Lonely, unwittingly sealing Jon’s fate in the process. He wondered if he had—

An upsettingly familiar voice broke through his thoughts. Martin was so deeply distracted that at first, he thought he had manufactured it himself, out of his memories. When he looked up, though, he was met with the site of not only Peter Lukas, but also Elias Bouchard, and it took him a second to remember where he was. He started to stand up, but somehow had lost track of his physical surroundings, and managed to get tangled up in his chair. He ended up on the ground.

He could feel the entire room focus in on him, but he couldn’t look away from the two men in front of him. Peter was almost exactly as he remembered him, while Elias could not have been more different—it was hard to believe he was the same person. Of course, in most ways, he wasn’t. Peter chuckled uncomfortably while Martin continued to stare, and turned to the man standing next to him. “It seems we’ve disturbed your assistant.”

“Martin.” His name, spoken nearby, finally brought him out of his stupor. He looked up expecting to find Jon, but found Tim instead.

“Martin,” he said again, “are you all right?”

“Yeah.” He looked around. Sasha had come to the door of her office to see what was going on; Jon had gotten up too.

“I keep saying we need to replace that chair.” Tim laughed nervously and reached to help Martin to his feet. It felt like it took forever to stand up.

“Yeah. Yeah, that chair, it’s, um…” Martin’s words were swallowed up by silence as he turned his eyes to the floor.

“Looks like we’re ok here, then.” Elias clapped his hands and turned back to Peter. “Shall we continue?”

Peter took one last discomfiting look at Martin before they continued into Sasha’s office. She gave Martin a concerned glance as she ushered Elias and Peter in, and pursed her lips as he shook his head. She closed the door behind them.

“Martin, are you—” Jon started to ask.

“I’m fine.” He really was more embarrassed than anything, and set about righting his chair so he could retreat back into his data entry as quickly as possible. “I—I’m sorry.”

Jon started to say something else, but was interrupted as Elias came back into the room, setting Sasha’s door against the jamb. “Everything all right?”

“Yep.” Tim patted Martin on the back, just hard enough to startle him again. “Everything is perfectly fine.”

Elias nodded, looking curiously from Tim to Martin to Jon. “Well, in any case, I want to apologize. I meant to come by last week to see how the two of you were doing, but, well… as you all know, I hate this place and avoid being here whenever possible.” He spoke the last part under his breath and grinned, the sarcastic sort of grin that doesn’t reach the eyes. It was a look Martin could not recall ever seeing on Elias’s face before in his life, but somehow it fit. “Still, I should have checked in. I’ll catch up with you soon. And Martin—get a new chair? That’s embarrassing.”

And with that, he disappeared back into Sasha’s office.

“Well,” Tim said as he leaned back against Martin’s desk. “I’ve seen some reactions to Peter Lukas, but I think that is my new favorite.”

“Sorry.” Martin could feel how red his face was.

“Martin, are you—are you really ok?” He looked over to see intense concern on Jon’s face, and he knew Jon wasn’t asking about his fall.

“Yeah,” he replied, as reassuringly as he could. “I—I really am.”

Jon didn’t seem convinced, but Tim got Martin’s attention again. “Let’s get lunch. You need a break.”

“Oh, I—I would, but I brought mine today.” He gestured toward the paper sack on the corner of his desk. “I have to leave a bit early, so I thought I’d work through lunch.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, I have to go pay some fees and pick up some stuff my old apartment building put in storage.”

“How are you getting there?”

“I was going to take the tube out,” Martin replied, realizing he hadn’t thought it through entirely. “I guess I hadn’t planned for getting back, but it’s just going to be some clothes and stuff for now… I can get a cab if it’s too much.”

“I’ll drive you,” Tim announced.

“Oh, no, thanks. I appreciate it, but—”

“It’s really not a problem.”

Martin considered; having a car really would be a lot more convenient. He didn’t know how much stuff was in storage, and he definitely didn’t know how it had been stored. Maybe it wasn’t even packed. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Besides, I want to talk with you.” Seeing the look on Martin’s face, he added, “No more questions. Mostly, I want to apologize properly for last week.”

“Well… yeah, ok. If you really don’t mind.”

“Nope. See you after lunch.” Tim headed for the door.

“Thanks,” Martin called after him.

As soon as Tim was gone, Martin turned back to Jon.

“You said you didn’t need help.” It was a statement, not an accusation, but Martin felt like he had to defend himself.

“I don’t! You heard him—he was really insistent. And he does have a car.”

“I can still go,” Jon said.

“It’s not a big thing.”

Jon bit his lip.

“Jon, you’re not feeling great, and I know how important it is to you to—to do your work. It’s fine.”

“You’re important, too.” Again, this was merely a statement, and again, it provoked too strong a reaction from Martin. This one, though, he tried to cover up.

“Yeah, well—I know that. You don’t have to prove it. And… if you’re not busy, or sleeping, you can help me put stuff away when I get home. Deal?”

Jon sighed, but agreed. “Deal,” he said, before turning back to his desk.

***

Martin ended up being very thankful for Tim’s help, and especially for his car. After they stopped by the rental office and he paid his fees, the storage lot was farther than he had imagined. Additionally, while most of his things were in bags, they were heavy contractor bags and there didn’t seem to be any logic as to what had gone where—if he’d come on his own, he would have had to spend a lot of time dumping things out and rearranging all of it to make it manageable. It would have been a pain, even if he had ended up calling a cab. As it was, though, Tim was able to help him with the heavier bags, and he didn’t have to sort everything out on the spot, so they finished with plenty of time.

“Let me get you a drink on the way back,” Tim offered, as he closed the boot on the final bag. “I still owe you an apology.”

“Tim, you just did me a huge favor. You don’t need to—”

“That was helping a friend. Apologies are measured in drinks.”

Martin considered. He did want to go. “Do you mind if I check on Jon?” he asked.

“Go right ahead,” Tim said. “I’ll wait in the car.”

Martin pulled out his phone, and thought about texting, but decided to call. Jon should be home, and that meant there was a good chance he was asleep. The phone did ring a bit long before he picked up.

“Everything all right?” Jon asked, and Martin thought he did sound like he may have just been roused from a nap.

“Yeah. I was actually just calling to ask you that.”

“Well, I’m home.”

“Good. Um… We got done a bit early, and Tim was asking if I wanted to grab a drink. Would you mind if I did?”

“Not at all.”

“Are you sure? Did you eat yet?” Martin asked. He kept his voice low so Tim wouldn’t overhear, although he didn’t exactly know why.

“Not yet.”

“I left one of those frozen meals on top in the freezer for you. Will you eat it?”

“Oh. Yes, of course. Thank you.”

Martin cringed at what he was about to say, but did it anyway. “Would you make it now?”

There was a pause. “Martin, are you serious?”

“Yes? I mean, you don’t have to, but I’d feel better if—”

“Fine.” Jon sighed, and Martin heard the sound of the freezer door opening a few moments later. “I’m doing it. Stop fretting and go have a drink.”

“Ok.” He was relieved. “Jon—thanks.”

“Go.” The call ended, and Martin couldn’t help but smile.

“OK, we’re good,” Martin told Tim as he climbed into the passenger seat. “Sure you won’t let me get it, though?”

“One hundred percent,” Tim answered. “How’s Jon?”

Martin debated whether he should give the polite answer or the real one, and went with something in between. “He’s… ok? To be honest, I’m a little worried about him.”

“Me too.” Tim started the car. “He wasn’t looking good last week when I was around.”

“Yeah?” Martin asked.

“He just seems tired,” Tim continued. “I mean, he’s always tired, ever since I’ve known him, but this is different. Tired and… distracted, I guess. Not like him.”

Martin nodded in agreement. “I’ve been trying to get him to take it easy, but—”

“He doesn’t care much for that, does he?”

“No. No, he does not.” Martin snorted, and Tim gave him a little grin as they headed out.

Soon they were sitting together at a table with a couple of beers in front of them.

“So,” Tim began, “I am officially apologizing for how I acted last week. I was a dick.”

Martin sighed. “No, you weren’t. You were worried, and Jon and I haven’t exactly been easy to—well, easy to anything.”

“Forgive me anyway?”

“If you insist,” Martin replied. “I forgive you, I guess.”

“Thanks. Cheers,” Tim said, holding up his glass. Martin obliged with a clink, and took a polite sip while Tim gulped down about half of what was in his glass.

“And for the record, I still don’t believe that you’re telling us everything, but—well, I imagine you have your reasons. I got to thinking over the weekend,” Tim said, after he had wiped his mouth off with his arm. “Sasha asked me not to say too much, but you know I was looking into some police records last week.”

Martin nodded. “Yeah, did something turn up?”

“Sasha was right. There was more. More than people had come to talk to us about.”

“For instance?”

Well… for instance, there was a kidnapping case about a month back. It turned out to be related to this cult that’s apparently been around forever, but never really done anything before. Not anything worth anyone’s time, anyway. I won’t get into details, I promised Sasha, but some of the officers thought they saw some things that… just shouldn’t have been possible. Not one or two officers, like a lot of them. And they lost some people.”

Martin wanted to ask questions, confirm his suspicions, but after what had happened with Oliver Banks, he didn’t want to push it again. “That’s horrible.”

“And here’s the real kicker.” Tim stopped to take another big drink. “There have been enough of these incidents that they’ve started asking the officers to sign a form saying they won’t talk about it. There’s been sort of an upset over it, actually. It’s all got lots of them pretty nervous, but no one is willing to make any outside statements, either. Not officially.”

Martin nodded again. This was really bad, but if it was happening, it was better that he know. He would tell Jon too, of course.

“Well, anyway, the point was I got to thinking—I know you and Jon disappeared around the same time all of this started. I’m not sure what to make of any of it, but whatever is going on… whatever you went through or feel like you went through, I understand why you might not want to talk about it.”

Martin knew he should say again that couldn’t remember, that he was sure it was nothing like that, it was probably completely unrelated—but he couldn’t. For one thing, it was a terrible lie. Everything Tim had witnessed—the way they had disappeared, the time they were gone, the way they had shown up again—it all fit together. For another thing, he knew he’d already said too much the last time they were out, and if he kept trying to lie he’d just look like an ass. Mostly, though, Martin hated lying to friends, and he couldn’t pretend anymore that this Tim didn’t feel like a friend.

So instead, he just nodded again, and took another sip of his beer.

“Well, if you need anything, I’m here.” Tim finished the remainder of his glass. “Speaking of which—where are we bringing your stuff?”

“Oh.” Martin realized he and Jon had never actually explained their living situation, and he felt the color rise into his face. “Jon’s flat?”

“I figured as much.” Tim leaned toward him. “So is that a long-term situation, or—?”

Martin didn’t know how to answer that, because he realized he didn’t know the answer. When they’d first gotten here, of course, they had just needed somewhere to go, and Jon had clearly wanted him there. Since then, he’d been so worried about Jon that he hadn’t questioned whether or not he should stay; it had just felt obvious that Jon needed him there. He had never actually asked him though, had he?

“I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “I guess we hadn’t talked about it.”

“Oh, god, relax,” Tim groaned. “If Jon didn’t want you there, you’d know. Subtlety is not his strength.”

“Sure.” Tim was basically right, of course. Still, they had been operating in survival mode for so long that maybe Jon hadn’t even realized not living together was an option. Mostly, though, it just wasn’t how people were supposed to move in together. They weren’t supposed to do it because they were scared.

Martin took a much longer sip of his beer, and was grateful when Tim changed the subject.

***

Miraculously, Jon was awake when they got back. He offered to help carry the bags upstairs from the car, but Tim and Martin both insisted he should let them take care of it, and he did seem relieved once he realized how heavy they were. Martin thanked Tim profusely for the help—it really would have taken a lot longer without him—and Tim said again he was happy to do it, and that he was looking forward to getting drinks with both of them sometime soon, when Jon was up for it.

“What did he mean, when I’m up for it?” Jon asked, after he was gone.

“Jon, everyone can tell you’re…” Martin considered what word to use. “Tired.”

“Is it really that bad?”

Martin wanted to ask Jon if that was a joke. Instead, he went with, “Yeah. It is.”

“I didn’t realize.” Jon was nervous. “Do you think Tim suspects anything?”

He decided not to mention that Tim very definitely did; it would only add stress, and that was not what Jon needed right now. He took a different route.

“Tim’s concerned, that’s all. You’re his friend and he’s worried.”

“Am I?”

“Yes. You are. I know there are a lot of complicating factors, and no, he’s not our Tim”—Martin stumbled a little over those words— “but in the simplest terms, he is Tim, and he is our friend.”

Jon sighed. “I’m not sure how friendly he would feel toward me if he knew what I’ve done.”

“What you—” Martin started to protest, but he reconsidered. He’d had enough arguing last night, and as obvious as his own responsibility for everything seemed to him, he doubted Jon would agree. “Never mind. How are you doing?”

“I’m all right,” Jon answered. “Good enough to help you sort through some of this.”

“Oh, Jon, I was just talking, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.” Then, with a slight smile, he added, “I certainly can’t let Tim take all the credit.”

“Right.” Martin shook his head, but also ended up smiling. “So, I’ll warn you—there’s not been a lot of organization. I maybe had to grab a little more than I actually intended.”

Ultimately, they dumped most of it onto the sitting room floor and began to sort everything into piles. Clothes Martin needed, things that could go to the office, some things they could use in the kitchen, stuff to go back to storage. As they sorted, Martin told Jon what he’d learned from Tim, which he suspected was related to the People’s Church of the Divine Host. He also told him about the police officers who had recently been sectioned. Jon nodded in concern while he spoke, but didn’t say much.

Before long, they had sorted out most of the obvious things. Martin was left going through a few boxes that had come along, containing mostly papers and legal documents and breakables and other things that couldn’t easily be thrown into bags.

“Want me to put some clothes away while you’re going through that?” Jon asked.

Martin cleared his throat. “Actually, it kind of came up when I was talking to Tim, and um—well, I realized we never talked about how long I would be staying here.”

“What do you mean, how long?” Jon seemed completely confused.

“Well, I kind of just… moved in. And we never talked about it.”

“What?” Jon asked again.

“You know, normally people talk about this. Moving in together.” Martin shifted uncomfortably in his spot on the floor.

“What did you want to talk about?” Jon asked.

“I mean, this is your place. I know I lost mine, or he lost his, or whatever, and this made sense when we got here, but—”

“Do you not want to be here?”

“What? No, I do, of course I do, but I just assumed it was what you wanted, too.”

“Because it is what I wanted.”

“I just hadn’t asked, that’s all.” Admittedly, Martin was relieved, but it still didn’t feel quite right. “I mean, we kind of had to be together before, and we have more time now to think about things, and I want this to really be a choice going forward because I do want to—well, I know I’m already on your nerves with the—”

“Stop. Listen to me,” Jon said. “I want you here. As long as you want to be here. I choose this.”

“Ok.” Martin stopped trying to explain himself, even though he wasn’t sure Jon really understood. He wasn’t trying to convince Jon he should move out, after all. He just wanted a sense of normalcy, to stop feeling like they were hurtling toward some inevitable doom. He didn’t want every moment to count; he wanted a future. He wasn’t sure how to put that into words, though.

“Can I help pay rent, at least?”

Jon got to his feet and grabbed a stack of shirts that were closest to him. “I really don’t care. At this point, money seems so… mundane.”

“Definitely in the shaving and eating category,” Martin agreed. “Still…”

“If it makes you comfortable, yes, of course.” Jon headed toward the bedroom, and Martin turned his attention back to the boxes in front of him.

He made it most of the way through with no trouble. Most of the things in the boxes could go back into storage; a few things, like his birth certificate, he would keep. And then he found a copy of his mother’s death certificate. He didn’t even have to look at the date to know; he remembered. It had happened here on the exact same day it had happened for him. Everything about it had been the same, actually. Not just when she passed, but all of it; everything about his relationship with her had been exactly the same. He didn’t understand why he felt so much disappointment.

“Martin?” Jon touched his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“Hm?” Martin glanced back and up at Jon.

“It’s just—you’ve been looking at it for five minutes. You haven’t moved.”

“Oh. It’s, um—well, look.” It was easier than saying it. He held it up until Jon recognized it.

“Ah.” Jon set down the clothes in his hand and sat down next to Martin.

“I guess—” Martin sighed. “I guess it was all just so—maybe I’d hoped that they had something to do with it, you know? But they didn’t. They weren’t here then. It was just how she was. And maybe it was how I was, too. Maybe I—”

“No.” Jon leaned against him, and gently rested his hand on the back of his shoulder. “You did nothing wrong.”

“Do you know what Elias showed me? Or Jonah, I guess? While you were—”

“I heard the tape, yes.”

“It was true, wasn’t it? She hated me.”

“She—she was ill, Martin. She loved you when she was well.” Martin nodded, and Jon leaned in even closer. “But just because she loved you doesn’t mean she was a good mother.”

“No. She wasn’t, actually.” Martin closed his eyes, and tried to just appreciate Jon’s presence, his warmth. “She was awful.”

Jon nodded.

“You know, I’ve never told anyone that.” Martin already felt ashamed. “Well, anyone except me.”

“Oh—right.” Jon knew what he meant.

“But it wasn’t her fault.”

“Does it matter if it was?”

“Yes. It does.” Martin tried to ignore the tear that squeezed its way out through his eyelids, because trying to stop them only ever seemed to bring more of them. “Jon—was the other part true too? Do I really look like my—like him?”

Jon hesitated, but eventually answered. “Yes. But that doesn’t mean you’re anything like him.”

“Do you know what he was like?”

“Yes. It was an accident, but I—” Jon paused. “I thought I needed to know what Elias could do, and, well… I couldn’t control it that well then. I saw more than I meant to. Is there anything you want to know?”

Martin felt another hot tear slide down his face, and tried to ignore that one too. “Am I like him?”

“No,” Jon said quietly. “Not at all.”

“Then I don’t need to know anything else.” A third tear fell, and a fourth, and he couldn’t ignore it anymore. He raised his arm to wipe his face, but Jon stopped him.

“Sorry. It’s been a long day,” Martin mumbled. “I’m—”

“No.” Jon turned Martin’s head toward him, and wiped his cheek with his thumb. “Don’t apologize.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve seen you cry once, and it was because—”

Jon kissed him.

“Jon—”

“Hush.” Jon crawled over Martin to straddle his lap, and kissed him again. Everything that had been swimming around in Martin’s head—their argument, Peter, his mother—it fell away, and all that was left was Jon. He let himself really breathe for the first time that day, resting his face against Jon’s shirt as they held each other.

“I love you,” Jon told him, when Martin looked at him.

“I love you too.” He turned his face up so Jon could kiss him again.

They stayed there until Jon’s hand gradually dropped from Martin’s face to his neck, and eventually down his arm, and Martin realized he was falling asleep.

“You awake?”

Jon didn’t answer him, and Martin didn’t particularly want to let go—so he picked him up, shifting Jon’s arms to his shoulders and then wrapping his own arms around Jon’s waist. He’d never done it before, but it was surprisingly easy; Jon was disturbingly light. Jon woke up enough to have a moment of panic when Martin stood up, and tightened his grip on Martin’s neck, but quickly relaxed and let himself be carried him to the bedroom.

“You all right?” Martin asked after he set him down on the bed.

“Mm.” Jon turned to lie on his side, and Martin brushed back the hair that had come loose.

“Jon, I’m really worried about you.”

“I’ll be ok,” Jon replied, catching Martin’s hand as he closed his eyes again. “I have you.”

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #jonmartin #tma spoilers #tma fanfic #my writing

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smolbeandrabbles · 4 years

Text

Spera - Elias x Reader (Trespass)

Direct Follow Up To: Veritas GIF Credit: X

@wltz-bby @happyskywhale

Author’s Note: *Story Time* Ha-! I went on holiday in September and there were a bunch of DVDs at the holiday home and no word of a lie, this was one of them and my parents wanted to see it. So, I kinda wanted to continue things from ‘Veritas’... and watching it again got me inspired (and I got to notice a bunch more stuff!)

I was going to call this ‘What She Wants Tonight’ ... but then I decided to keep the Latin theme.

So you get Elias back-! 🎉

What She Wants Tonight - Luke Bryan (Because of course it’s Luke Bryan)

Disclaimer: Trespass & associated characters not mine / gif not mine / lyrics not mine. / Call backs to Veritas / Kyle Sullivan (Guns for Hire) gets another name drop.

Premise: You hadn’t expected him to call you, of course. But then you didn’t think you’d expected to see him again either. On this mission you must work together. But it’s clear that that’s not your only objective...

Words: 7171

Warnings: Swearing / Sexual Pre-Amble / I really can’t write action scenes.

_____ She walks up, velvet rope unhooks She snaps her fingers and a drink comes She locks you down with just one look She's got this whole club undone If she's on the rebound, you ain't gonna know it Coming off a heartbreak, she ain't gonna show it She's eyes caught, red dot, locked on me, yeah She wants my hands on her body She wants to burn like she's made of fire Said she ain't going home 'til we Drink every drop of Kentucky dry Don't even know what she'll do when she does it Palm of her hand, I'm hers in the blink of an eye She don't take no and I love She gets what she wants And I get to be what she wants tonight I get to be what she wants tonight I get to catch all her secrets Sequins bouncing off flashing lights If she wants it, then we're leaving Get me home, park the truck, cut the tires I get to be where she goes when she's lonely The last door of the night she's closing Oh, I know she could have anything, but And I don't know how I got to be The only thing she needs right now

---

To anyone who wasn’t aware, the building could have been a normal office block, the people going in and out certainly appeared to be normal office workers. A few of them were – in order to hide their organization, the first few levels of this building had been rented to businesses, but the rest of the block belonged to the Agency.

You stepped gently into the elevator and swiped your access card, pushing the elevator button for your floor you stood back against the mirrored walls and waited to ascend. Of course, by the time you were to the floor, Joel was already busy running around gathering papers and talking loudly on phones… it was clear that you wouldn’t be here long, they would have you out the door as quick as they had you in. Joel was a little like a personal assistant. Although an ‘assassin’ in his own right he was more on the level of office worker casual, than your higher ranking. He was not your partner - although you did use him as such on occasion - and you were not his mentor, he had been taught the basics by others but that’s as far as he got. He was your go between, only top clients saw you face to face (and were always surprised that you was a woman) everyone else went through Joel, he arranged your payments and sent off your confirmation… sometimes he helped on intel, or clean up detail, but he also arranged transport and set things between your Superior and yourself. He managed to offer you a quick nod as he rushed around, which you gratefully returned… you ascended a flight of steps and knocked on the door.

“Come in.” You entered. “Y/N. Quick as ever to the call I see.” “There isn’t often a time when I cannot get here. I’d like to keep my records intact.” “And they are quite some records.” Your Superior indicated to the chair in front of him, “Please sit.” You did as was asked, crossing your legs one over the other. “…It’s a wonder to me why the Master has not called you up yet.” “Because he knows that I’m good at ground work. If you pulled me up another level then, of course, I would have jurisdiction over several assassin’s as you do, but I would only get called to field work in times of dire need… and We haven’t had a real firefight in close to 100 years. I would do better out there. Plus aren’t you all men?” you managed to crack a little smile, “I’m not indicating sexism, but…” He gave a small shrug, “They all think you’re male anyway. As we all go by codenames here.” “Yes there is that.” You nodded to the window, “Joel appears to be working hard on the next big thing already,” your eyes flicked back to your Superior, “I assume I am needed right away?” “Yes…” He handed you over a file “As you’re in the area, we thought that might take your fancy. It isn’t directly your job, but it does pay well.” You opened the file and raised an eyebrow, “Nilo? Again?!” “Several of these drug lords are untouchable. As you well know.” “Eh, they give good business, some even pay well,” you flicked the page, “these just seem to be calls for several underlings…” “Several big Russians are getting too big for their boots, too…” “So there’s a lot going on?” “I would only send my best to several jobs at once.” You took the second file from the desk, they all looked to be linked, “These guys aren’t in situ yet, are they?” “No. But we have it on good ear that they will be.” “So Nilo calls for the blood of the Russians, and some” you squinted as you read the name, “…This sounds like drug wars?” It had been a while; they weren’t exactly to your taste. Nilo was a very old client indeed – back when you were just starting out on your own. “You have connections.” “Yes. Joel is useful in that respect too… Does he know?” Joel would know the when and where and exactly what you’d need. You doubted he’d be doing so much rushing if he knew what this was really for. “You can brief him.” “Hmm. Well, it’s a good thing we focus on the numbers and not the side…” You stood, collecting the folders together, “Consider it done.” “Good. Your payment for yesterday has been wired. The man himself has been reported missing. I assume no body will turn up?” “Not on my watch. Unless someone asks for it specifically.” You waved the folders, “Expect some good news within the next few days.” “I always do with you, Y/N. Good luck.” “Thank you Sir. But I won’t need it.”

As you exited the room and took the stairs you called to him: “Joel!” He fell in step as you hit the floor; “Can get the car out front, I’ve sent intel up to Marty, meet in 10?” “Sure, let me go see what our weapons tech has for me then… you ready?” “Sounds like there’s a war brewing.” “Drugs war. Hope you enjoy undercover.” “Me? Oh Geez…” Joel’s face told the story you expected “Well I’m not even supposed to be there am I? They don’t call me Ghost Shadow because they can see me, do they?” “It’s actuall-” “Don’t care, Joel, remember…” You looked to him with a smile, you’d never had much patience for whispered codenames, “Besides, you have the connections.” He scoffed, “Don’t rope me in with the drugs guys, Nilo’s just used me before.” “Yeah, but I want other side intel.” You tapped him in the chest with your folder, “Get it.” “Yes Sir.” “Funny.”

***

Your weapon’s technician looked as enamoured as ever to see you, his smile bright as you walked onto his floor: “Y/N!” “Marty.” “…Off already?” “One day I’m taking the first fight out to Cozumel and NOONE is going to stop me.” “If you ever get a break, considering what you do, I’m going to give you free range and let you clear out my weapons cache entirely.” “Oh? You’d do that for me?” You fluttered your eyelashes teasingly “Marty!” you tapped your card in, and opened the doors, “What do you have in?” “New? Since you were last in here?” “Don’t give me that tone! Because if there’s one thing I know, you are a collector and second, I haven’t been using this particular weapons store in my work recently, so, yes, new!” “Usually you carry your own pistol.” “Usually?” You gave him a wry smile, “Always. And I do, but everything else-” “What I like most about your pistol is its untraceable.” “Well. That’s how he made it.” “So it WAS his.” “Yes. It the least I could do to honour him.” “…Well, you are right, I do collect. I have several new rifles in, but you’re not such a fan. I also have a light weight sniper gun, and if you were ever interested in something smaller for close range-” “A pocket gun?” You chucked, “Bring it, a lot less messy than a knife.” “So they do work?” “Execution style. Yeah – anything will work if you want it to. I mean, sometimes us Assassins have to improvise; that said its always hoped things will never get that messy.” He slid the tiny gun across the table to you, “It’s not been road tested yet. But… I can think of no better person to try it out. Careful.” “Will be,” you patted it as you slid it into your top coat pocket, “and for Joel?” “What do you think he’ll need?” “You’ve read the file, you tell me! Don’t forget rope; the most useful thing you could give me.” “Kinda think a gun would be more useful.” “Rope saves lives, guns take lives. Get my meaning. Besides, how else do you expect me to ascend or descend a building?!” “Stairs!? A lift!? This is Nilo we’re talking about, it’s not exactly big budget. This isn’t Mission Impossible.” “Well it could be-!” You cracked a smile as Marty muttered under his breath, collecting everything up – he handed the bag to you, “Have a good trip. See you in a few days.” “Of course! Thanks!” *** Joel complained the whole way; it was to be expected - you were used to getting into the middle of gang and mafia warfare. Taking out politicians and heads of state. Drugs sometimes, on a higher level – but drugs carried its own problems… This, in particular, was way below your pay grade. “You’re too good for this.” “He’s fronting the right amount of money and he wants me.” “No, fact is you should have been off shit like this years back. You did some good jobs back then, but you’re above this now. And drugs?!? Y/N, you abhor drugs. It’s like your one thing.” “Look, if He sends me then I can’t push back.” “You have authority, surely?” “Well it’s a little late now. Next time I’ll think on it.” “Yeah well, you better.” His hard stare switched from you to the road. No doubt, Joel didn’t want to be mixed up in this any more than you. Perhaps it was about time you asked to politely be removed from anything related to them.

When you pulled into the parking lot he began grumbling even more. Of course Joel had most of the intel, maybe he’d need a little more research but, that’s what the first meeting was all about. Sometimes you thought he’d rather stay at HQ and feed you the info via a web link. “I mean, a strip club. Could this be any more degrading for you?!” Joel was about to launch into how the Agency should think before sending their best female agent to places like this, to stop the tirade you gave a smile and a joke instead. “As long as you’re not expecting me to get up and dance?” You nudged him, “Besides the girls all love you.” “Not interested.” Was his blunt reply, reaching into the back seat for his case. “Nothing will cheer you up today, huh?” “No. It’ll get worse.” You rolled your eyes, “Okay, so let’s get in, get it done, get out.”

*** To be honest when you’d left your card with Elias you never expected him to call it. Maybe hoped on it, but you’d been done with hoping after a few days; those had now bled into months - and you had plenty of kills under your belt since then (and a grovelled apology from Kyle Sullivan. He hadn’t called on you again since.) But your day got a little better as you wandered into the club and very nearly snorted, hiding your face and smirk behind Joel for a moment. “What?” “Remember when I told you about that little bit of trouble at Mr.Sullivan’s place?” “Yeah, I remember...” “Guess we just stumbled on where they came from.” If it had pleased you, Joel turned another shade of glum. “Brilliant.”

Indeed, though you looked pretty collected as you approached Nilo, Elias has turned sheet white. The others wouldn’t have noticed, you’d taken them all out before they saw your face. Well, maybe except the big guy but he was eyeing you with a certain level of curiosity, instead of what was going through Elias’ mind. Clearly not so happy to see you. You didn’t even spare him a proper glance, nodding to Nilo instead. “It’s been a minute.” “Indeed it has, Y/N. Welcome. We’ll certainly be glad to use your services once more…” “No use kicking around, I suggest we discuss the job.” You bowed your head gently, if only to say my pleasure - with a smirk. Because it would be your pleasure. Although, looking back to Elias you were sure that not everyone was glad. *** Elias didn’t really speak much during the briefing; you already counted too many people involved – and Joel was getting antsy. You’d just have to deal with it, you could do this alone but Nilo wanted to make sure everything was done to his letter – and therefore was sending a group along with you. You didn’t particularly understand this; did he think you were still a kid who’d only just started out? Reckless and a little dumb? You thought it was more likely the group he wanted to send were the ones who would mess everything up. Elias and Ty were amongst them. Elias, being the obvious one you knew – who did not like being under the weight of your stare – and Ty being the one you’d picked out as a potential problem back at Mr. Sullivan’s house. Elias’s brother, Noah, was also in on the meeting and a couple of guys who looked less tough than paper, who you would refuse to take when it came to your terms… but let Nilo think he’s in control, for now. Joel and yourself were now sitting at the bar of the club, him facing it with his laptop, grumbling like there was no tomorrow. And you facing the pole dancers, back against the bar. You’d never had the inclination to get up there and do that, but you were 99% sure you could; maybe one day you’d give someone a run for their money. Joel had ordered some cocktail that came with a lollipop and you wasted no time in stealing that. Your drink wasn’t alcohol, you didn’t drink on a job – Champagne was for afterwards. Joel was drinking to get himself through this one. “So?” “I can’t believe this.” “You’ve said that 20 times.” You removed the candy from your mouth, “I need, you know, something useful.” “I mean the complex itself is relatively easy to get into, you don’t even need the code, just fry everything. There’s multiple floors but there’s hardly anywhere that’s going to have cover…” He was staring hard at the schematic. “Why are we not going alone? The more bodies in a corridor the harder this is!” “Joel.” You warned. “Okay, you just need to get to the inner most point. It looks like one of those panic rooms.” You half turned to his screen as he tapped it, replacing the lolly with an agreeing hum. “Assured your guy, and whatever drugs or shit you gotta haul on back, is there.” He turned to you, looking more than a little disgruntled that he was having to do this, “I’ll make a couple of calls. It won’t be hard. And forgodsake, please do not drag this personal hell out for me.” “I’ll try.” You gave a gently sarcastic smile and he sighed. “And PLEASE stop doing that overtly sexual thing you do! Like, I don’t need it.” “It’s not for you.” “I think he’s a bad idea.” Joel eyes were back on his laptop, and you weren’t sure if his uncomfortable shift was just for show. You supposed he was only going to point back to his ‘degrading’ speech if you pressed further. “I didn’t ask you.” “No, and I can see why.” Of course you were playing a game here. You knew Elias was watching you – there wasn’t much out there you weren’t aware of. That was all part of your training. But you’d noticed that try as he might he couldn’t keep his eyes off you, and you could busy yourself with being a seductress whilst also being teasing and paying him absolutely no mind. What you’d also come to the dissatisfying conclusion of was that his girlfriend was also here; oh, and she was not impressed. You didn’t really care, it was fun to play them against each other, in fact maybe it was more satisfying to have her here, realising exactly what you were doing. Because she was all over him and that was not an exaggeration, but Elias was pushing her out of the way to keep on staring at you. So, if Joel really didn’t think you were going to sit on this stool with your chest pushed out and your shirt riding up, sucking on a lollipop… well he should know better. You didn’t need to show too much skin: the idea was to let his imagination do the work. From what you could tell, Elias’ imagination was working overtime. Joel left you alone to make his series of phone calls outside, convinced that he needed air anyway. Which you’d laugh at of course, considering he’d probably kill his time outside smoking. At which point you turned back to the bar and gathered your thoughts – before you would begin to clear your head of everything but the mission. That was all that would matter for the next few days; that was all that had to matter. As you were pondering this however, you were approached by someone else, and you didn’t really have to guess who had made his way across the club to you. “Well, I see you can’t even call a number on a card, how do you expect me to think that you can pull this off?” Elias slid onto the stool next to you, tipping his head, “It’s not that simple.” You turned your eyes on him, “I get it, you have a girlfriend. Don’t tell me you’re not interested. And if you’re not, don’t come over here and talk to me, keep it strictly business.” He rummaged in his jacket pocket and your calling card was placed back on the table, “I wanted to.” You couldn’t help but smile as you stared at it, “Wanting is something you can say easily, the doing is the only thing I have use for.” Your fingers brushed his as you pushed the card back towards him, “Keep it, if you ever decide to become useful to me.” “Y/N…” The bar tender placed a drink in front of him without Elias even asking and your look away from him was enough to be an eyeroll, with the way you stared straight at the back wall. He spent enough time here for that then. He took a sip, eyeing yours. “You don’t drink?” “Not on the job no.” “Y/N, what are you doing here?” “I’m an assassin, I told you that. It’s like you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said since I walked in.” “Is that any surprise?” His voice was laced with sugar, which made you a little uncomfortable as you turned to him. Those blue eyes were watching your face intently, and if you thought that a man like him was capable of melting, that might be what you’d call it. “Please, Elias. Go back to your girlfriend.” There was a pause, before he leant into your space and you sighed in obvious frustration. “Why do you need two guns?” He indicated to the one on the counter that no one was paying any mind to, and then to your hip, partially concealed by your coat. “Assassin as good as you.” “Will you do what I say, if I tell you?” His smile became a grin that was more of a smirk, “Depends what you tell me to do.” You couldn’t help but hum a laugh as you unholstered the one on your belt, “That,” you waved at the one on the counter, “that’s my own, it’s no big deal. It’s probably standard issue – due an upgrade, but it’s never let me down. Call me superstitious, but I’d quite like to keep it around. This baby…” You weighed the one in your hands up. “Belonged to my mentor.” “The one that used to spew Latin before he killed people?” You couldn’t help but smile as you nodded: he remembered. “So why do you have it?” You placed it with your own and leant into him, you became a little huddle and lowered your voice, “Because he died, Elias. It’s in honour and memory of him.” There was a moment’s pause, and Elias wondered if you’d opt to continue the conversation, “…How? I mean your line of work is dangerous but-” “The Agency killed him, made me watch.” The flicker across Elias’ face was both apologetic and a revelation; ‘that might explain a few things’ “He fell in love with a target, he couldn’t kill her. Eventually the Agency found out and executed him.” It was weird for you to just out and say it like that, it jarred you – you weren’t sure what you were thinking, saying something so personal. You were supposed to have better instincts than that. Did you trust him? There was something cold about the way you were talking that didn’t fit with the look on your face, and Elias tipped his head – “But you’re working alone now, you have no mentee of your own?” He seemed to be asking if that process would be too painful for you. Instead you gave a shake of your head, “No. I have no patience for that. I would be no good, not yet anyway. Not all of us make it through the process – hence why Joel is my assistant and not an assassin himself. He has all the skills, he didn’t pass all the tests.” You frowned momentarily, then shrugged, “I’ll probably die doing this, or see myself old enough to take my bosses job. Though, I’ve never been much of a girl for desk work.” Elias would agree with that, “How long have you been doing this?” “…That’s… a little too much of me to expose to you.” Oh, but you liked this didn’t you? Talking to him. To someone who was actually interested in you. “I never knew my parents. The Agency has a specific way of testing kids at orphanages and such. There’s no attachment, nowhere for the kids to run. Still, they take care of you better than some children get treated by their own parents so, I guess there’s a win somewhere.” Something twinged in Elias by the look on his face, making you realise you’d touched on something that was a little too much of him to expose to you. You left it alone. “I guess you have a point there.” “Uh huh.” You couldn’t help but smirk as you looked over his shoulder, this girlfriend of his had spotted the two of you talking and the livid look on her face was only making your ego swell a little. There was no way she didn’t know he was into you, and you were invested enough in the conversation to have some attachment to him. You wondered if he’d told her about your kiss, if it was obvious to her by the way Elias looked at you. But he was still watching your face, even when you turned away, the way you were smirking and clearly enjoying yourself, “What?” He was clearly amused, he hoped it was him. “Your little girlfriend is about to blow a fuse.” Elias’ face fell instantly as he looked over his shoulder, “Oh-” “She a dancer here?” He didn’t need to nod, “You walking cliché.” You nudged him off his bar stool, “Go. Go on.” “Try not to miss me.” He shot back, hands getting a little too friendly as his touch lingered on you. Instead you scoffed, picking up your cup, “Trust me, I won’t.”

** You kicked around for another day and a half, longer than you would have liked, but once Joel had his intel sorted the small group you assembled had to make the plan water tight. Which means they listened to you, no questions asked. Ty was about the only one you really trusted, he was built for this and he took an interest in you for reasons you thought were kind of unhealthy; not an assassin, you could tell he was probably going to enjoy this. You never took enjoyment from killing – it was just your job. Still, Ty was quiet and nodded along. Elias didn’t. And to be honest, if you weren’t having so much fun playing him and Petal – you’d tried not to snort – off against each other, you’d be more pissed with him than you already were. “She is NOT coming on this mission!” “She always tags along.” “You’re not running this mission Elias, I AM. And there’s only one thing I have a hard stop on, and that’s drugs.” Before he could protest the irony of what you were doing you continued, “She’ll fuck the whole thing up and I know you know that. I will not take drug dependants on this mission. Or we can take her, but I’ll put a bullet in her head the second I feel I have to and I won’t hesitate.” “---You’re…. insane!” “It’s my job. I don’t fail on my tasks; your little gang of tag-alongs are not going to change that.” “Then I won’t come.” “Well don’t. Explain to Nilo why, for all I care.” Elias sighed, faltering on the fact you would give him up so fast, a little too easily for someone who wanted to labour a point, “Okay. Okay… I’ll tell her.” “You better…” He turned away but you pulled him back by his jacket, “Woah, hey. Your brother’s not coming either.” “Oh my god-” “Because he’s the opposite problem. He’s not taking his medication and he’s erratic. You think I can’t read tells?” “No, on this I might be inclined to agree you have the right idea.” “So we’re agreed, on the same page.” Elias didn’t meet your eyes as he nodded, “Yeah.” “So we’re getting somewhere.” Your arms folded, confident little smile making him give you that same melted look. Scratch all previous thoughts, Elias was easier to play than a deck of cards. You wondered how long he’d spent looking at your calling card and desperately wishing to call the number. You wondered why Elias hadn’t already. What was his real reason? He could give you as many cocky smirks and sarcastically suggestive little quips as he wanted – you could see right through him. “I thought we already were.” *** You should have bet on how much complaining Joel was going to do, by the fact that he was muttering curses in more than one language under his breath. For the first part of the journey you thought it was funny, and responded in kind. Linguistics was a nice hobby, and Joel and yourself had a healthy competition on how many you could learn. Aside from that, it was good business practice. For the second half of the journey you settled into silence, closing your eyes and taking yourself through all your focus meditation and breathing exercises – before checking and double checking your weaponry. Then triple checking it – obviously. All with Joel still grumbling on, and Elias and Ty asking each other if this was something they ought to be doing. Joel slowed the van and parked up, the complex was in view, but you were out of sight. You had split yourself into two teams: Elias and yourself, and Joel and Ty. You would clear the first few floors together – without breaking a sweat – and then they would go on look out and you’d take out the name on your rap sheet. Obviously your assistant was as impressed with this arrangement as he was with everything else – but he was on side with you, and he understood it. He could make sure there were no screw ups. Joel also had a build like Ty did, so he wasn’t about to be taken out, or by surprise, by him. You all had communication links to each other so you could keep tabs, but you wanted radio silence unless absolutely necessary. The only good thing about this was that you didn’t really have to worry about how messy you were, Nilo didn’t have a preference for making someone disappear, he just wanted the man killed. As predicted the four of you swept the first few floors silently, splitting the building nearly in half you came to the point where you’d be leaving Joel behind, turning to him you opted to continue your language game: “You know where you’re going?” “I know what I’m looking for.” “Be careful. I don’t trust them.” “The feeling is mutual.” “Yell if you need anything.” He shot Elias a look before turning to you, “I’d say the same, but I think you can handle yourself!” You chuckled, “Thanks, Joel. Until later.” And, indicated for Elias to follow you, ascended the stairs.

***

Everything looked very different up here, but was equally as quiet. There’d be security every so often, you were sure of that, as there had been downstairs. Perhaps more, considering your target was their boss, but nothing you didn’t think yourself capable of handling. “So, I don’t get it, is this a drugs complex, or a house!?” You turned to Elias as he stared around the walls: very domestic from the bland grey concrete you’d seen downstairs. “Both.” It wasn’t a guess; you’d seen the schematic. “A safe house?” “Round about, we’re heading for a panic room.” “You have that map stored in your head?” You kept the pistol steady as you rounded the corner, it was clear and you beckoned him on, “Is that impressive?” “Vaguely.” You chuckled, “I’ll take it.” You suddenly pulled back, slamming Elias against the wall as a bullet streaked passed you, “Shit!” You weren’t worried about that, immediate with your retaliation fire. You were trained for this, it was instinct. There was more than one of them and you had to bring them down quick less they raise the alarm, you had no time to think about cover: about the only thing Elias did think of. “They’ll have heard bullets, I gotta go.” You turned back to him, “Your choice, go back to them or try to keep up!” Trying to keep up was much easier said than done, and you had sprinted out of sight by the time Elias had run around the next corner. “Ah, shit.” He ran a hand through his hair, “Well, I’ve followed her this far!” You must have been quick, because Elias made it another couple of floors up before he found any signs that you might have had difficulty, what worried him was that it was your mentors’ gun that was lying on the ground – so out of the way it’d probably been kicked or thrown there. Carelessly; you hadn’t just decided to drop it. You certainly would have retrieved it. Whoever your mentor had been, however you tried to hide it, Elias knew he’d meant a lot to you. Picking it up, the still loaded chamber and half empty magazine told a worse story to him. What the hell had happened to you?! Surely they hadn’t overpowered you? Not you! *** Elias almost started to believe it as he continued walking, as suddenly there wasn’t a body, or blood or an empty casing anywhere in sight. Everything was still quiet. Not a sound, not even on the radio. He arrived on the next floor, and again everything was clear. It occurred to him to call the other two for help very nearly a little too late, as, more concerned with finding out where you were, Elias rounded the next corner without his pistol up. In fact, without a pistol at all, and he was faced with yours. “You’re lucky that I check what I’m shooting at before I pull a trigger, Elias! Geez!” You flicked the safety on. “ME!? You just gave me a heart attack! Where the hell did you go!?” You shuffled on the spot with a little shrug, “Look, just, don’t go upstairs into the office, okay?” “Office…? What? I thought you said he had a panic room.” “He absolutely had a panic room – he wasn’t in it. It was not the cleanest kill I’ve ever made and…” You paused staring up at the ceiling, “At least it’s done.” He followed your eyeline and grimaced, leaking through the ceiling already was a patch of blood, “That’s a lot of bodies or it’s a terribly built house-!” “Bit of both…” You looked to him, “Hardly matters right now, don’t you think?” “Who the hell are you, Y/N?” Your head tipped, regarding him seriously in the eschewing silence to his question. “You really want to know that?” He nodded firmly, “Yes.” Elias wasn’t sure he liked the smile you gave back, the way it made the heart leap in his chest, and a shudder run up his spine. You grabbed him, shoving him up against a wall this time not to protect him – far from it. Your lips on his were rough, this wasn’t love… you weren’t even sure you could call it chemistry. But it was something. Elias pulled your body into his, your fingers running into his hair, he groaned into the kiss as you raked your nails across his scalp. But you continued to push his body as you made him breathless. Oh… shit. Elias could barely think properly as he ran his hands under your coat and over your ass, pulling your shirt with him, the feel of your supple skin under his calloused hands drove him crazy. Until he found himself backed up against a door, breaking the kiss in confusion. “Maybe you should try it.” You encouraged, voice at a whisper as you brought his lips back to yours, Elias wasn’t going to say no, and it swung open behind his push. This time when he broke the kiss it was only to smirk. “Oh? A bedroom?” “Uh huh.” He turned back to you, eyes raking your body as they had done before, but now significantly more hungry. You pushed a finger to his lips before he started getting clever: “…Stop talking… stop thinking… don’t make me wait any longer.” Replacing your finger with your lips, Elias pulled back to nod, “Okay.” He pulled you into his arms, relieving you of your coat immediately. It was almost like no time had passed at all, he tasted the same as you remembered, whisky and cigarette smoke. Elias pulled you closer, certainly not eager to break the kiss or let you go for even a moment. You pulled off his leather jacket, throwing it with your own; you revelled in the way that you were both so different, but you wanted the same thing so badly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?” He gave you a small smirk. You let the look on your face answer for you, to which Elias grinned, hands under your shirt he pulled it over your head, allowing you to relieve him of his own. His fingers ghosted over your skin, and he paused momentarily: every so often there was a litter of scars. You weren’t about to count the number of times you’d been in real trouble, but you always got out of it. You simply chuckled, “Yeah, no dancing on a stage in just my bra and panties for me.” “That’s not why I’m here.” You’d agree with that, kissing him gently again, your fingers grazed over his chest and Elias tensed; “What? Scared?” You smirked against his lips. “A little. It’s not like I don’t know what you’re capable of.” “I don’t sleep with my targets.” You kissed him again, winking as you undid his belt, dragging him back to your lips with his belt loops; this time he bit your lip gently, making you groan against his kiss. Elias picked you up, undoing your pants and bra clasp, pushing you down onto the bed he nipped down your jawline and neck. You pulled him back, reciprocating Elias’ trail of kisses, whispering prayers into his skin in nearly every language you knew. He slid your pants down your legs with a sigh, and he shook under your touch. You were too much for him already, but you weren’t about to show Elias mercy. You smirked wickedly, claiming his lips with your own once more. This man was about to be all yours… *** All of you were clearly sworn to silence. Elias was the more dazed of the three of you (Ty seemed none the wiser), and Joel kept throwing you dirty and disgusted looks. You couldn’t care less. You’d done your job, you were entitled to a little fun every once in a while, your assistant didn’t have to be a killjoy. Overall though, you were disappointed in yourself, somewhere along the way – probably when you were dealing with everyone who was actually occupying the panic room – you’d lost your most important possession. You weren’t about to admit that out loud, but you hadn’t been able to find it as you had made your way back downstairs. You vowed you’d get it back, but you’d rather go back with Joel and do a real sweep without the other two around. There was too much going on here – and it was obvious Joel wanted out and away from here as soon as possible. That was fine with you. You dropped Elias and Ty back at the bar, and you were wondering if this time it might really be it. Were you both satisfied now? It scared you that you might not be sure of the answer to that. Joel went to deliver the news and package, and Ty wasn’t one to kick around, leaving you and Elias outside. “Well, now you can get back to that girlfriend of yours.” “Is that really any way to say goodbye?” “I don’t want to get emotionally involved here.” Though your eyes strayed from his face a little too much for Elias to want to believe that. “Does that make everything easier for you?” “Yeah.” You folded your arms, no point in skirting around that. Elias for once looked like he was seeing right through you, “Except there’s one thing that makes you show your cards.” “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him, how dare he stand here acting like he had you all figured out. Elias rummaged in his jacket, and you nearly gasped as he presented you with your mentor’s pistol. “He must have been one hell of a guy.” “He… was.” You took it from him delicately, “You found it.” “It’s important. Right?” “…Thank you.” And there was emotion behind that, you both knew it. “You’re welcome.” Although his hand took yours, thumb running over that tattoo on your wrist, and down to your fingers, Elias was so close to entwining them. He thought better of it, instead twisting the ring so that ‘Veritas’ very clearly faced him – you just about admit to yourself you were disappointed. “My offer is still on the table, you know?” You gave a small smile, “If you ever want to be useful, you have my number.” He chuckled, “Well. I’ll… think on it.” Then added, with a smile, “That’s the truth.” “Don’t think.” You took a step back as Joel called you, walking briskly back to the car. Yes, he certainly wanted out. “I told you, the only thing worth it, is the doing!” ** Amazingly Joel did not go ballistic at you – you thought he was just glad to be out. On top of that he knew you’d seen the looks he was shooting you, and you supposed he thought that said it all. To be honest it probably did, and you would both vow silently to never talk about this again. You pulled your pistol apart to check it, as you always did and, satisfied, you pulled your mentor’s apart too. Pausing as you checked the magazine, sitting in the top was a rolled-up piece of paper. You smiled to yourself, only guessing what it said. You pieced the pistol back together and unravelled it. He’d watched you do this on the journey, so Elias could be certain that you’d check your gun pretty soon after he’d returned it. Spera - Trust. ‘Someone is a show off’. You almost laughed as you read the number before rolling it up again and pocketing it. Truth and Trust seemed almost ironic. And yet also seemed to be completely fitting. You made sure to be safely home, to ensure that Joel wasn’t physically ill. And also to wait a few days, to keep Elias hanging. Which he was, because that man wasn’t like you. You could wait on him to call like it was no big deal – but he would be checking that mobile of his every ten minutes at the very least. Predictably he picked up on the second ring: “Y/N?” “Hey, babe.” You would be directly flirty, you’d tell Elias what he wanted to hear, “I see my number must be saved in that phone of yours, you just never pressed the call button. See, even a busy girl like me can action something.” “I… I’m just glad you did.” You left a significant pause, enough to make him uncomfortable, “Are you asking me to trust you?” “The truth is important to you, isn’t it? Don’t you trust me?” Your voice became quiet, all too aware of the vulnerability of admittance: “I do. It scares me that I do.” You sighed, “But that hardly matters. I told you I like action. So, if I don’t want you to call me unless it’s for you to be useful, I figured that my calling you was only ever about offering you the opportunity to be so…” “How?” Elias’ voice was eager, you could almost see his nails digging into the bar, the tension running through him, a slight dark tint to those blue eyes of his. “You ever been to Boston?” “…No?” “Well, if you get yourself on a flight over… I can give you an address.” “You live in Boston?” “You asked me to trust you.” “I did.” There was relief and understanding in that sentence. “When?” “Whenever you want, babe. I’ll let you know if I get called anywhere though, wouldn’t want you to waste a trip.” “Considerate of you.” “Well, like for like.” You smiled, “Just one more small favour, Elias. An… assurance. Perhaps an insurance policy. Before you do come all the way out to me.” “What’s that?” Really what he was saying was anything. I’ll do anything. “I told you that my mentor died because he fell in love with a target…” “You did.” Then he quickly added, “I won’t… tell anyone!” You shook your head, Elias was jumping ahead of himself. As were you. But you weren’t sure where this was going, and yet you had to be certain. It wasn’t that you thought you were about to fall in love. You might, it wasn’t beyond you. It was that if you were asked to kill him… you weren’t your mentor. You weren’t scared that you’d be unable to pull the trigger, you were scared of the knowledge that you could. “Yes, well. Just don’t do anything to piss anyone off, okay?”

---

Thank you for reading! 😁💙

#Elias #Ben Mendelsohn #Trespass #Linzi Writes #Elias x Reader #Smol Bean Drabbles #So I felt like his backstory kinda went with hers and I like that solidarity #I really like the way they talk to each other #like this understanding... a very specific kind of energy #I feel like every scene in this fic either hits just right or is a pretty bad miss but... it's going like this #Once again I stole some of this from Runaway Train but why not she's the same reader character #Carla #189 #Joel - the assistant #Joel / Yoel and all variations is a long standing side character OC of mine #and I LOOOOOOVE him #Jerod for example from the /I Think He Knows/ series is a Joel...#Yoel from Maliyah's series is a Joel #But Carla's assistant is the Original(TM) Joel

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anakinskywalkher · 5 years

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Palpatine raises the twins and accidentally activates Anakin’s dadmodus - An alternative Star Wars plot.

@jasontoddiefor: Palpatine raises the twins & angst w/ Vader not knowing who the two are @dlegohargreeves: im gonna fuck shit up

written together on WhatsApp while listen to crack music.

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(Barbara) Palpatine has long before he declared himself emperor abandoned the ways of the Sith. He uses them to create utmost loyalty to himself but he will not abide to the rules of his predecessor, one Palpatine would’ve defeated had he been around at that time. People, be they sith, jedi, or other are all moldable to whatever he wants them to be.

He tricks Padme with sugar and soothed spun words, manipulates Anakin with spice and presses on his rage ("the jedi forbid you from loving your mother thats why you couldnt save her. i would never") -- Palpatine is aware of the long game, but he has eternity. He’s a god, no one will be able to withstand him.

What Anakin never realised was that he wasnt the actual chosen one, Palpatine had seen in his vision that Anakin's children were in fact the chosen ones, and so when confronted with the soft boy he molded him into this shell to avoid his vision from happening,.... and yet these damnable children are still born. Palpatine is terrified that he wasn’t the only one with the true vision and firmly believes that owning the twins would be the least risky choice. (like he owned anakin, who long ago posed a risk)

He hunts them down, -- while anakin/Vader is completely crippled by his mental breakdown about "murdering" Padme and his child. Palpatine smiles and lets him wallow, for what Vader doesnt know is that Palpatine the God poisoned padme once he found out about her pregnancy.

Palpatine finds them, born hours ago and already pulsing brightly with the power of the force. Obi-Wan puts up a fight but Palpatine strikes him. He gloats to Obi-wan, brags about killing Padme, about manipulating Anakin (”I have taken everything from you, and now I will take your life) and takes the children. He leaves Obi-wan to bleed out by his stomach wound a faraway galaxy (Palpatine reasons that Obiwan deserves it for this is how he left Vader to die. )

And so Palpatine at the rise of his galactic empire ends up with a crippled sith boy (not a man no matter what anakin thought), and with two babies who are most powerful force users in history. (now were shifting to meta instead of story telling lmao)

Palpatine has a god complex, he doesnt actually believe he would ever die, such petty thing is only for the unfortunate. even if his body would succumb to age, his mind through the force would rule forever -- he is unstoppable. To rule however even a godlike emperor needs tools, and while Vader is to be his guarddog the twins he believe can be shaped and molded into his personal hands, amplify his reach across galaxies.

So to mold them into his tools, Palpatine believes in starving them for love, only ever receiving ounces of recognition and pride. always craving his acknowledgment -- and it works, the twins once old enough to have actual brains (according to palpatine) he removes their wetnurses and gives them teachers, makes their training cruel and harsh and make them compete for his gaze. And it works till a certain extent, but Palpatine’s god-complex makes him blind to things he deems unneccessary, And thus he misses how the mourning of Vader for his family, turns him into a guilt-ridden man who believes giving these children some form of attention and care as penance for his own misgivings. And thus without meaning to Vader gives the children the love Palpatine tries to deny them (accidentally shifting their loyalty on the long run)

Elias: Vader hates the kids at first, with them reminding him of everything he lost and could have had, but at the end of the day, after some aggressive introspection, he gets that they’re just kids and probably starts projecting a lot the longer he’s exposed to them -- Vader, guilty, sneaks them candy and gives them stuff that’s kinda useless (like books that are not about politics or war or economics and and and) and he doesn’t think it’s much but the two would kill a man for him and probably have done so. ((Palpatine tries to break apart the codependent twins, forcing them apart for weeks, but the Force, unlike anything is a tool in hands of desperate children with a bond so strong it connected their mind)) This is not healthy, Vader thought, recalling decade old lessons from the Jedi. The twins rarely spoke, never mind both at the same time. They’re asked for their opinions, echoes of the Emperor’s wishes, and only one of them replies. They always moved at the same time, terrifying weapons of perfect synchrony, constantly aware of the other’s presence. They were living at least half in each other’s mind, even when the Emperor depraved them of contact for weeks. They were clingy afterwards, holding each other’s hands and wrists until they bruised, but Vader knew their minds were never separated. Luke slammed their teacher’s (victim’s) head to the ground as Leia kicked away his feet. They didn’t need any call signs, or training in coordination, one moved and the other followed. During battles, the twins’ dependence was a huge advantage. “Again,” Vader called out and the two of them fell back into the first Kata, the bleeding teacher still lying on the ground.

Barbara: However once the twins are older they need to learn through missions, so Vader has to take them along for missions (once Palpatine believes they wont connect with Vader) - it starts normal but Vader slowly starts to make the missions longer, gives the kids downtime, lets them free and just engages small talk with them, he can’t face himself if he doesn't let them be actual children. But the twins are suspicious believing theres a catch but Leia, the master mind realises that theres none and so they accept reluctantly, and slowly but surely they learn how to be children under Vader’s tutelage. It takes time and dulling a sharpened blade, but the moment, that first time when the twins laugh and seem actually happy, its that moment that Vader decides, he has to become Anakin again, because these children are his second chance - And so he starts planning.

(insert a bit of crack:

Elias: Firmus: Lord Vader, are we to expect you and the Operatives back tomorrow? Vader: we haven’t finished the mission yet -Leia and Luke like 12 or so, in the background yelling in excitement bc idk they got a game, neither are in uniform- Firmus: Of course )

Barbara: Anakin: "i made sand castles when I was young" Leia: “that structure seems awfully unstable for a house”

But ever since Vader mentions the sand castle, the usually more mature one Leia clings to the idea and while he wishes he could show her, but his suit and wounds cant handle the sand. And when he explains Luke goes " well lets get u a proper suit then" and vader goes " im a moron" (leia in the back: yes duh) So Anakin looks into the treatment he’s still receiving to see if he can make it so that his breathing machine could withstand the sand and realises that Palpatine is actually keeping his body weak, he has no need of the breathing machine because its that actual machine thats poisoning his lungs. So of course Vader does a lowrisk experiment and turns off the machine and he can actually breath fresh air in 12 years (the rage controlling Anakin is one different than those before, for it is ice in his veins instead of fire. And it makes him tactical instead of foolish for once). Soon after that Vader catches some rebel transmission and finds out that Obi-wan is alive and looking for the twins and its that moment that Anakin 'kills' Vader, believing that Obi-wan can save the twins in a way he can't.

Anakin takes the kids to fight the rebels on Palpatines order but he seizes the chance and instead he shows them his face without the mask (lets ignore the idea that hed be bald bc i hate the uglification of ani) and Leia goes: You look an awful lot like luke Anakin who hasnt actually seen his own image for 12 years, realises that luke is a spitting image of himself as a child, and leia who is glaring at him, he realises, is a carbon copy of Padme. BUT anakin thinks hes projecting and doesnt follow up with it.

Instead he asks them (and for leia this will always be the most important part), he asks them if they wish to stay with Palpatine and do his bidding or to dissapear with him -- and well the choice is easy right, Luke&Leia don’t actually like Palpatine, because despite everything, the force made them sensitive and they feel so much (the despair of the people, the sadness of Vader, the greed of Palpatine)

So they leave for Tattooine, the one place where Palpatine would never look because he never found out that Anakin realised his suit was a boobytrap. The wanted pictures of the twins (both bald shaven and in uniform) nor the one of Anakin (known as Vader, with the helmet) soon dont match the long haired white dress wearing twins and the blond haired bronzed man.

and so Anakin and the twins go into hiding, but guess whose on Tatooine? Thats right -- ObiWan

#starwars #star wars #Star Wars fic #sw fanfic #Star Wars fix it #lmao im on crack yall #jasontoddiefor #fanfic #writing #my writing #sw:dadmodus

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goodluckdetective · 5 years

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A PROPER SLEEPOVER

Post Magnus Archives 159. Written entirely on my phone so forgive my formatting mess. Sometimes a girl has to write soft stuff.

Ship: Jon/Martin.

Rating: PG-13 for mentions of blood and past spooks

Summary: In a world where there is a calm before the storm, the Archives team has a moment to rest. And talk. Just a little.

A PROPER SLEEPOVER

In a different world, one where Elias is not waiting for them outside the Lonely but biding his time to seize his crown, Jon and Martin end up in Panopticon.

Magnus is still there, the all seeing eye, but Martin pulls Jon’s hand away from his side as he reaches for the pocket knife he keeps in his belt.

“If you kill him, you become him,” Martin whispers. It isn’t due to a fear of being overheard. The Lonely takes your voice over time, making you smaller, less intrusive. Martin isn’t sure he could scream even if he tried. Jon stares at the body of Magnus and then back at Martin.

“Later,” Jon says to Magnus, an empty shell of many eyes. He looks back to Martin. His gaze is piercing, unsettling, but somehow Martin finds it a comfort. He’d rather be seen than invisible. “Let’s go upstairs.”

They do. The offices are a mess but Not!Sasha is gone and so are Julia and her fellow hunter. There are no bodies but plenty of blood, and Martin feels a pang of concern that he hasn’t let himself feel in months. They run through the halls, Martin following Jon who somehow knows the way. When they get to the end, Basira and Daisy are there. Alive.

But not well, Martin realizes with a start. Basira is covered in blood but not hurt. In her arms is Daisy, who also looks mostly uninjured. But Daisy is different. Her nails are now claws that scrape against the floor. As she breathes heavily on her hands and knees, Martin can see her teeth are now pointed. When she looks up her eyes are that of a cat.

Martin watches Daisy’s gaze go right to Jon’s throat and he steps in front of him without thinking. Basira grabs Daisy’s elbow, whispering in her ear. Daisy’s blood soaked hair drips droplets onto the floor.

“Looks like we’re both monsters now, Archivist.” There is a growl to Daisy’s words but Martin is relieved to find her no longer looking at Jon’s throat. Jon moves in front of Martin, his hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“Maybe for now,” Jon says. “But perhaps not forever. If we're lucky.”

Daisy looks at him for a long moment then makes a noise that could almost be close to a laugh. Basira pulls her close and that same noise morphs into something loosely resembling a sob.

After that, after checking that all current threats aren’t at their doorstep still, they mobilize. They don’t bother to clean up the blood, but Basira and Daisy head to the bathroom to at least wash it off themselves. Martin begins to head to his own office but he is stopped by Jon seizing his wrist with a strength that’s surprisingly strong from such a lean man. When Martin turns back to look at him, his gesture loosens but he doesn’t let go.

“I-um,” Jon says. For a man who knows so much, he never seems to know what to say, Martin realizes with a start. “Sorry, but if you are heading somewhere, can I come with? Probably not best to be alone.”

Martin realizes with a start that he’s probably right. He’s so used to being alone at this point that it’s almost his default state, the comforting blanket of loneliness a shield. That shield won’t protect him if the hunters decide to come back.

If he’s not careful that shield may smother him too. That’s what Jon is worried of, Martin thinks, given his almost frantic expression.

“He actually missed me,” Martin thinks. And isn’t that a revelation through all the static still in his head.

He lets Jon come with him and he collects some of his things. His business cards say “Assistant to Peter Lukas” and Martin doesn’t miss Jon picking one up, scowling and then throwing them all in the recycle. After he has his files about the Extinction and his favorite poetry journal, he looks up to find Jon texting.

“Basira says we should all sleep in the same room tonight,” Jon says without looking up. “Safer. So we can keep an eye out for intruders and also each other.”

“So we’re having a proper sleepover then?”

Jon scoffs. “Technically we’ve been having a proper one for months.”

They pick one of the conference rooms for the “sleepover” though when Martin calls it in front of Daisy, she gives him a look that makes him almost vanish on instinct. They do a little planning, but everyone is exhausted and Martin soon finds himself drifting off. The Lonely, he thinks, takes a lot out of a person. Perhaps it is because exhaustion is something that so easily isolated people.

When he wakes, it is dark inside the conference room. Basira and Daisy are curled up next to one another, holding hands tight. Both of their weapons are at their respective sides. The Guardian and the Hunter, both taking respite where they can.

Martin himself is asleep next to Jon, his head next to Jon’s thigh. There is a hand softly brushing through his hair and Martin doesn’t have to look up to know who’s hand it is. Months ago, the thought of this situation would have turned Martin into a stuttering, embarrassed, mess. Now, he is too tired to feel anything but content.

John is reading through his files from the sound of the papers ruffling, his phone’s flashlight providing the sole illumination. Martin closes his eyes as he hears Jon turn another page. Like this, he can almost pretend it is like the old days when he thought of the Archives as a quiet place where papers were filed and statements were taken. Not the world where you cannot remember your co-worker’s true face or your boss rips out the worst truth you’ve ever suspected and read it to you out loud.

“My notes are on the back of each folder,” Martin says. Jon doesn’t seem surprised by his voice; he likely already knew Martin was awake.

“I saw them. They’re comprehensive.”

“Not bad for a fake master’s degree.”

“Quite.”

There is more silence. It isn’t like the silence of the lonely, the sound of paper and the other’s breathing filling up the small space. Martin can still hear static but it is faint, held at bay by friends and a warm hand in his hair.

“Martin,” Jon says, his voice soft like it was in the Lonely. “I thought you might be lost ,” he had said to Martin within that endless fog. And in many ways, Martin was. Lost upon a journey he had chosen but lost none-the-less. “Peter said something to me in the Lonely.”

The static in Martin’s ears grows louder.

“He said we barely knew each other,” Jon continues. “And I…I would like to prove him wrong.”

The static lessens. “Hm?”

“I am a monster,” Jon says, voice a different kind of soft now. The kind of soft when one feels all too human. “I crave other’s terror, I haunt others' dreams, and I am worried I will keep getting worse until I stop caring about getting worse. But-“ There is a deep breath. “I don’t want to be. A monster that is. Not forever.”

Martin turns now to look up at Jon. He’s looking down at him, his eyes lined with dark circles, his expression pinched with anxiety. Martin wants to wipe it all away. He knows he can't, he is not an idiot, but he still wants to try. “And?”

Jon closes his eyes. When he opens them, they seem to lack the weight of the Beholding, if only for a second. They look...soft. “I’d like to try. To be someone worth knowing. Worth...loving. If you’d still like me to be.”

Martin processes that. The words, the inflection, the meaning underneath. Even with the weight of the Lonely fresh, he can feel longing and hope and love bubble up in his chest. Maybe enough to make him smile for the first time in weeks.

“Yeah,” Martin says, throat dry. “I think I would.”

The smile that appears on Jon’s face is soft and relieved and excited all at the same time. Martin wonders how long it will take him to get back to holding all those emotions at once again.

“I’ll need time,” Martin says. “To remember what it’s like to be-“ To be what? Around people? To express feelings? To stop pretending he is nothing but lonely? He can't find the words so he waves his hand, hoping Jon’s knowing powers get the point across. Given Jon’s nod, they seem to.

“I can wait. Sleep. You’re tired.”

Martin does. As he drifts off, Jon’s hand still in his hair, he hears him speak one more time. Jon's voice is quiet but firm.

“I love you as well. Don’t vanish on me.”

“I won’t,” is the last thing Martin says before he drifts off to a static-free slumber.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #jonmartin #martin blackwood #iz writes

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king-of-kings1 · 5 years

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Tower of Joy and the dumbassery of Rhaegar Targaryen... or the Martells or was it the author

So, like most of the readers of ASOIAF series I’ve been intrigued about a lot of stuff that’s happened in the books. One of the things that never fails to intrigue me is the famed birthplace of Jon Snow, the Tower of Joy. Now this thing here makes no sense to me for all the shitstorm that has happened here. Now if you asked me, “Do you believe that what the show gave us about the TOJ is accurate?” my only answer would be “Hell, no.” The reason for that is not because I don’t believe a single thing that comes out of the mouth of those two sons of sorry excuses(you know them), but overall it does not make any sense to me. To get a clear picture of what I’m trying to say lets look at where the Tower of Joy actually sits in Dorne.

Forgive me for my lack of artistic excellency there. The blue circle is the TOJ and the red one is the Prince’s Pass. Now, we see that the TOJ is situated right by the Prince’s Pass. For those who don’t know what the Prince’s Pass is, it is one of the pathways through which one could enter or exit Dorne. To put it simply it is the way through which one can move an army into Dorne or one can bring it outside of Dorne. The Prince’s Pass is always heavily fortified during times of wars. Even during Robert’s Rebellion this would’ve been the case as to shut any enemy invasion. The pathway would always be active during war crisis even when Dorne is not participating in the war as we see in the War of Five Kings. Now when people try to tell me that Rhaegar Targaryen hid with Lyanna Stark in this Tower by the Prince’s Pass for an entire war in which the Dornish took part in actively, it makes me feel as if I’m Jon ‘You know nothing’ Snow. But I’m not because I know that shit doesn’t make any sense.

Marching an army forth is not a single process. There will be scouts to make the surroundings are clear for an army to march forth without getting ambushed by enemy forces. If you asked me that tower was the worst place to hide if you didn’t want to get caught by the Dornish forces. Yeah, Rhaegar Targaryen, you dumbass, if you did not want to get caught cheating you wife by your brother-in-law you should’ve chosen a better place to hide you wiseass. The Prince’s Pass would’ve been filled with soldiers during the war. Moreover Doran sent ten thousand men outside of Dorne to the Trident. Now people trying to tell me that these ten thousand dornish spears moved through the Prince’s pass and did not scout this tower standing over there like Mary Poppins’ umbrella I don’t know who is the actual stupid here. Is it smart, beautiful Rhaegar Targaryen, or is it the Dornish army who knows not a thing about warfare or is it George R.R Martin himself who missed that thing here.

Starting with the Dornish army, the warfare that Dornish people excels in is not field battle like the rest of the Seven Kingdoms. They excel in guerrilla warfare. Does it mean that they don’t know how to march or scout or do the other basic things like the other kingdoms do? No, absolutely not. The reason for that is, Dorne has fought in field battles before. They have invaded other kingdoms before. Granted they were defeated most of the time but scouting is one of the basic knowledge of warfare. You don’t have to be a master strategist or tactician like Alexander the Great to know how to use scouts. Any clown with a basic knowledge about warfare would know how to use scouts because it is very essential in both medieval and mordern warfare. So the chances of this huge dornish army passing through the Prince’s Pass without taking a look at the tower standing nearby which could potentially hide an enemy army waiting to ambush them is next to none. These guys could’ve passed through the Boneway you can say but both the pathways are heavily fortified during wars even when Dorne is not taking part in it as I already mentioned. To say that Doran Martell failed to guard the gateway to his realm is saying that he is a stupid.

It could’ve been overlooked by George as it is just a historical aspect of the story, right? You can ask me and the answer is, Yes, it could’ve been overlooked. But given the fact that George takes complete care even when writing the past events (Ned’s arrival to Sisterton with a random fisherman’s daughter, the battles of Summerhall, the Battle of Bells) it is quite a stretch to think it as such. Every time George writes a battle plan in the story he never fails to include the scouts in it. You can check the books if you doubt me. In fact it was the scouts under the command of Brynden Tully lured Jaime into a trap and won the Whispering Woods for Robb. So I don’t think that George would come out and say that the dornish kinda forgot about scouting.

That leaves us with, is it the product of Rhaegar Targaryen’s famous stupidity? As much as I like to prove that this guy is a moron again and again, I don’t think even Rhaegar is such a goner to do that. He wouldn’t have been sitting ducks for the dornish army to hunt him and mess up all his faultless plans. Even if he was a retard the men with him were not. Arthur Dayne and Oswell Whent, I don’t think them to be such. I don’t have any proofs to prove that in Whent’s case but Arthur Dayne defeated the infamous Kingswood Brotherhood in a brilliant and strange manoeuver, while passing through the camp of the Golden Company, Jon Con thinks that it was well set that even Arthur Dayne would’ve approved of it, meaning he was no stupid.

So does that mean that the dornish knew they were there and did nothing? Does that mean Elia showed the green light to the famous Targaryen polygamy? I can hear a couple of R+L fans with their applause, “I told you she was on board with the plan. Its bloody brilliant.” Well to them, Sorry, mates, but its absolute bonkers. Why is Elia a hostage in King’s Landing then? Rhaegar had ten thousand swords behind him. The moment Aerys told him about his wish to keep his family as hostages, he would’ve said “Fuck you, dad. I’m not taking your shit anymore.” He would’ve sent both Elia and Lyanna to Sunspear where they both will be safe and Elia could take care of Lyanna. Unfortunately that was not the case.

So what is the truth about the TOJ mystery? Honestly guys, I don’t know, I’ll admit. As far as I know, I believe that it makes little sense that R+L hid there, that is realistically speaking. But the show and Ned’s dream in the books...? The show is pure dumpster even before Season 8 (they even had only two kingsguards in place of three) and Ned’s dream in the books is a fever dream. He even dreams of rose petals in the sky. It doesn’t mean that his dream is accurate. Like everyone else I’m waiting for TWOW to arrive so that we could get to know more about it. Until then you guys stay classy.

#asoiaf #asoif/got #game of thrones #tower of joy #Robert's Rebellion #Rhaegar Targaryen #Lyanna Stark #dorne #doran martell #Ned Stark #Arthur Dayne #oswell whent #jon connington #elia martell #king's landing

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ionizedyeast · 5 years

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Title: 0180304 - Workplace Relationship Part 1/2 “Statement of Nelson Briar, Head of Folklore and Legend Research of the Magnus Institute, and his relationship and events surrounding Michael Shelley prior to becoming the Distortion. Statement given --.”

“That’s enough, let’s get right to it, Jon. You know, I’m the reason Elias had to start being more lax about employee relationships within the Institute. It’s not like we had been keeping anything secret, though. Gertrude knew before anyone else and then Diane did. And as far as I know, we were close to being the primary reason for gossip. But you’re not here to listen to me talk about the watercooler chatter of the Magnus Institute. You want to know what happened with me and Michael before well. . . Before I lost him.

I came here from the States back in late 2006. I had just started a Master’s program and had been working in the Usher Foundation back in DC since I was an undergrad. My area of study was well received by the Foundation and thankfully the Institute was more than willing to have me as a grad student in residence. I would have the chance to utilize any of their resources for my studies. Well, not any. It’s funny, knowing what I know now about the Institute, I’ve got to say there were loads of red flags about me coming out here. Probably starting with the fact the Lukas family funded my transfer and were going to cover my education. But I didn’t know anything about the Lukases back then. We have our own cryptic families back in Washington and as far as we were concerned, the Institute had a keen grasp on whatever the Lukases were doing, and weren’t our problem.

You had just started around that time too, hadn’t you, Jon? Wasn’t I your immediate superior for a while? I forget, I still can’t quite figure out the hierarchy here. You’re Head Archivist. I’m Head of Folklore -- are we equals in the Institute or are were on completely different levels. Ah, nevermind, we can talk about that outside of the recording. Reminiscing can wait.

I was, I think I was the third in residence student-employee the Institute had taken in. My predecessors had long since finished their studies and moved on elsewhere. South Africa and Russia, if I recall. I never had the chance to meet them, but as far as what Elias had told me in during my orientation, that’s what I had gathered about them. Wonder what they’re up to. . . But I digress. I was the third, but I was the first that was actively using the archive statements as fodder for my research. See, my focus area was in covering unifying themes throughout world cultures through the means of folklore. Obviously we’ve got the standards -- creation myths, the afterlife, explanations of nature, harvest -- the usual. But my studies were taking me elsewhere. To concepts that overlapped and had uncanny similarities, even when the cultures were worlds away. Some could be explained as just the natural need for humans to find comfort in what they didn’t understand. Death and the dark were most common. I could always figure out ways to connect these points, even if the cultures were wildly different. What was the geography like? The weather during this time period. How were their relations with nearby enemy and ally communities? I could usually pinpoint what needed to be explained and tied together. But some things I never could quite get a grasp on.

You see, Jon, in my decade plus at the Institute, I’ve probably dug too deep for just a simple scholar. I don’t study to know things for a sense of omniscience. I study to satisfy my own curiosity. While it’s always a thrill to share my academic findings with anyone who will listen, it’s always been primarily a personal gain. So I suppose that was one reason why Elias ended up granting me permission to study the archives. With limitations of course. Gertrude wasn’t the most thrilled about it. But I was not prying through with the intentions of exposing the secrets I uncovered to the world. No, it was for myself. And somewhere down the line, well, I wouldn’t call myself an expert by any means. But I did find myself very familiar with some common trends. Of course this wouldn’t all come in to play until some time after Michael, er, vanished.

Michael and I met sometime in early 2007. I had been here for a few months and I was bouncing between working as a shelver in the library and a research assistant -- we briefly were colleagues at this time, though back then we never really spoke to one another. What a shame. Imagine how close we’d be now if we had.

It wasn’t exactly what I would call a remarkable meeting. Gertrude had sent him to the library to have access to our private records for some sort of report but we didn’t have anyone to accompany him at the time so we just talked. I called him enormous or something to that extent -- I’m a small guy, Jon. I’m easily astounded at tall people -- he found my reaction funny. Somehow or another he mentioned the kind of research he was conducting for Gertrude and it was actually something I had quite a bit of experience in. I’d just had an article get published about the topic, so I talked his ear off for a bit before Diane came to take him to the back. Michael came back to the library at the end of the day and asked I’d like to get a coffee with him sometime. Didn’t realize it was a date until the third time we’d gone out for coffee and he started buying. It was casual dating, you know what I mean? The kind where you spend the first few dates just getting to know one another. Talking about what you had in common. What hobbies you had. Your friends. Family. Rather commonplace stuff just to test the waters. And while we had a few disagreements in interests, we kept coming back to the things we did have in common. You’ll have to forgive me, but when it comes to other people’s perceptions of me, I am very dense. Beyond the surface level of ‘this person likes me’, ‘this person tolerates me’ and ‘this person dislikes me’ I have an incredibly difficult time reading people. Even when Michael was holding my hand on our forth date, I still kept telling myself, “Oh Nel, he’s one of those people that uses physical contact to show he’s engaged in conversation.” And frankly it wasn’t until I started sleeping with him -- oh, christ, too much? Sorry, not really the right sort of content to be sharing. But you see my point. I didn’t realize Michael and I had been legitimately dating for nearly eight months. Sometimes I wonder if perhaps I’d realized sooner, he wouldn’t have -- you know what, nevermind. There’s no use dwelling on it. Michael is dead. He gave himself up to stop the Spiral’s ritual and that’s all that matters. He did us a service but well, it put me into a bind. Kind of literally. I’ll fast forward through our relationship -- we were all but short of living together. My apartment was too small. Would you believe it was Lukas housing? And he was living too far for me to comfortably be able to commute after my longer days. He was something of a rock for me on my rough days where I’d be at the Institute well into the night. I didn’t like being there late. Always felt like someone was watching me. Heh, well, it wasn’t paranoia. And present me is glad to reassure past Nelson that no, he was not being an anxious mess. He really was being watched. Some nights Michael would stay with me until I finished what I had been working on. Other nights he’d make a point of coming back later in the evening to check on me only to have to wake me up and send me home. Sometimes I wonder if he had ever actually gone home those days. He’d become wrapped up in his own studies under Gertrude. It wasn’t my business so I never asked unless he chose to share.

That’s a lie, and you know it, don’t you? I was a snoop. I would hear Michael mentioning things some nights when I stayed at his place. Whatever it was Gertrude was having him do, it was eating at him. He talked about always being afraid he was taking the wrong door when he was going places. He’d started taking photographs of the doors he used most often. Told me to make sure it was so he wouldn’t get lost. He didn’t want to go somewhere he couldn’t leave. I suggested he put something on the doors he used most so he wouldn’t get confused. But it didn’t seem to reassure him. Some nights he didn’t sleep at all. He’d either just lay in bed with me until the sun came up. Some mornings I’d wake up to find him facing a wall, hand outstretched as if he were taking a doorknob. He would always be so relieved when I called out to him. He’d always settle into bed next to me and he wouldn’t speak. He would just hang tight on to me and just remain still and silent. Now, trust me, Michael was not mentally ill. I mean, your standard depression and anxiety like nearly everyone our age, but he wasn’t unmedicated, nor was he struggling with anything else. Or maybe he was and he just didn’t know. But I genuinely believe -- no, I know -- that how he was acting was not a sign of mental illness. Something had him. I can only say now that I know something had him, because I know what happened now. He only started acting himself again in the days before he and Gertrude left. He was excited. Talked about how thrilled he was to be needed for something so important. He loved his work and he was very dedicated to aiding Gertrude in her work as well. And he was himself again for a short while. We’d been together I think a little over two years at this point. Longest I’ve ever been with a man. Most men get turned off by me being trans so early in the relationship, but Michael didn’t mind. He just liked me and I have to say, hiccups in his health aside, I think we were very happy together. He was so optimistic that week before -- said that he thought that it was time that we moved in together properly. He said he’d seen some places for rent a bit closer to the Institute that on our combined income would be a walk in the park. He wanted to know if my parents were ever going to be visiting London again because he felt he was ready to meet them. After two years together of us being content in our stations, suddenly he was ready to make more of these commitments with me and honestly. . .I couldn’t have been happier. I was half expecting him to mention marriage at some point, but it still seemed a bit soon for that. But I wouldn’t have said no. We were happy. And when he woke me up before leaving for his flight, kissed me and told me he loved me -- I was sure I had such a bright future to look forward to. I was absolutely in love with Michael Shelley, and. . .

You know how the Spiral is the concept of the fear of lies and deception? You know how it alters your perception of reality? You know how it twists and writhes and fills you with doubt and frustration? With how it makes you question anything and everything in your life? Imagine all of that culminating at once. Imagine suddenly being stricken by the anger and betrayal of whether or not this man you absolutely adored was lying to you. Betrayal of ones feelings I think might be the absolute worst thing you could ever experience.

I had eagerly counted down the days of Michael’s return. It was all I could hope for. I had found a few places I wanted to look at with him. I’d even called my parents back in Massachusetts to tell them the good news. And when Gertrude came back alone? She pulled me aside and told me at the very least she owed me some sort of answer. I had thought Michael maybe had just gone straight home and gone to bed. He probably had some sort of jetlag and needed to rest. But all she told me was that Michael would not be coming back. And she wouldn’t say anything more.

I found out what happened on my own. Though I think Elias may have had something to do with it. Who am I kidding, I know he had something, maybe everything to do with it. My access to the archives was cut off after Michael left. I wasn’t allowed in unless Gertrude saw it absolutely necessary and I was under strict supervision. In the past she’d noticed that I’d swipe the occasional statement for a few days before returning it and she wasn’t...too fond of that. Or me in general. I think her general dislike of me is half the reason, if not all the reason I never joined the archives team, despite being a perfect fit for the position. No, it wasn’t just Elias. Michael I think left me hints too. I had gone to his apartment after a week thinking maybe he might have actually needed some space before we moved in together and that’s why Gertrude was being cryptic because she didn’t know herself. But when I got there, the apartment had been untouched since I’d left for work the morning of Michael’s departure. Everything was in its place. I spoke to his landlord, mentioned that he had disappeared and that the place needed to be cleaned out. But as it were, before he left he’d put my name on the lease somehow. It had seemed he might have actually prepared for this. I mean, I know now that he had. But back then I was so angry. But I couldn’t just express it. I felt like nothing made sense. I felt like he had abandoned me, but in such a way where he wanted me to be taken care of in his absence. I didn’t understand any of it. Rent had been paid up for the next few months and I was able to use this time to take care of my own affairs. I moved in to Michael’s apartment. I kept his name on the least just in case. I decided I’d rather have a longer nightly commute home than live in that lonely apartment of mine. I’d like some sort of company even if it was in the form of Michael’s belongings. The unfortunate side was that the apartment now had twice as much stuff and I had to do some cleaning. It was while I was cleaning, I found some of Michael’s hints. Statements that I had never laid my eyes on. Photocopies of ones that were likely still in the archive. In truth, Michael had been lying to me. More than he let on. But now I realize it had been a lie to protect me. He could only do so much for me while he was around though, ‘cause before you knew it, I was absorbing as much information as I possibly could about what he’d left behind for me to read. It was astounding. What he’d left for me perfectly summed up so many of the connections in the study I’d been finishing for my grad studies. Who would have guessed that my own boyfriends disappearance would have led to me completing my degree! I say this happily, but it’s breaking my heart to do so. I really loved Michael, you know. I couldn’t really bear the idea of being without him. Maybe that’s what pushed me to start breaking into the archives late at night. Maybe that’s how and why Elias started watching me. I don’t know if it was because he disapproved of what I was doing, or if he was just curious. I, uh, I don’t know if you’ve caught on. But Elias doesn’t watch all of us. Just those he thinks have some sort of weight. It probably had to do with how much I buried myself in what Michael left behind for me. After I obtained my degree all I could do was start researching. In hindsight, I probably shouldn’t have signed the proper employment contract. 20/20 as they say. I was obsessed, Jon. The moment I found out Sannikov Land wasn’t real, I lost myself. I tore apart the myths and legends I’d been studying my entire life to find some sort of hint or connections between what Michael left for me and the truth of it all. You’ll um, have to forgive me a bit if the rest sounds a little disjointed. Between Michael’s disappearance and Gertrude’s death, my grasp on reality started to. Slip? None of my memories connect smoothly. There’s patches. Blanks in time. I can only take a guess that these were from periods where I was lost in my own mania.

I wouldn’t say the Spiral had me yet. But it was definitely effecting my daily life. Like Michael, I started to see the doors. I started to find myself caught in lies and deception and doing whatever I could to find answers. I was living to deceive as long as it benefited me and my search. And like it had always been. They were selfish pursuits. It was knowledge I had to know for myself. It was knowledge I needed to obtain because I needed to find out what happened to Michael. Elias never intervened. He never tried to stop me. I have a couple memories of him pulling me aside and supplying me with some information that might help steer me on the right path. Or maybe the wrong one. I don’t know. Like I said. Those years were hazy. But he always seemed so pleased by my progress. He knew then. He had to know. This is Elias we’re talking about. He had to have known where I was headed. Jackass... I don’t have much clarify until shortly after Gertrude died. I had been in the halls. I was staring at something on the wall -- probably a door. I passed Elias. He didn’t look right. He looked like he was staring through me. Said something about how someone should lock the archives. Gertrude had passed away and he needed to make sure the room was locked up until someone new was hired. He handed me a key and sent me on my way. I think he was telling me to take what I needed if it would help me in my search for Michael. Whatever it is I had found, that was when I think I had finally succumbed to the Spiral’s influence over me.

You know the funny part about this. . .We didn’t hear that Gertrude passed away for another three days. I suppose that’s the funny thing about being touched by the Spiral. You just accept the falsehoods, even when you know they’re falsehoods. And in the end? It benefited me. Just as I always wanted.

Since I’m being honest here. Being in that labyrinth was the first time in years I actually didn’t feel like I was losing my mind. I wasn’t scared. In fact it felt like taking a walk in the park. I held a large armful of folders of statements in my arms. And all I did was walk. I passed countless doors and passages and turned through winding corners and corridors and nothing about it filled me with any dread or unease. It felt like I belonged there. I say this knowing full well that my comfort likely had something to do with being in the domain of what had been driving me those past few years. I don’t think the Distortion liked my reaction, though. At one point, I found a dead end. There was only one door, and when I opened it, I was back in my office. I didn’t imagine it, of course. That wouldn’t be the first time I ventured there. I usually went in of my own volition. I don’t know if the Distortion found me to be a nuisance or not. But whenever I saw a new door, I simply would knock first and announce I was coming in. And whenever I went in, it was just the same. An odd comfort like I belonged there. I felt like a visitor in someone’s home. It was like when I first started to spend the night at Michael’s. It was as if the halls were no harm to me, even though it was not my dwelling. I was allowed to be there. Perhaps I was even being invited. But if the Spiral disliked my presence, it never did so in such a way that caused me any fear or harm.

It was my third time within the Spiral that I started calling out.

I had done enough research by now and learned enough to know what the Spiral was. What it could do. Where it was leading me. And to know all about Michael’s connection to it. And I started to call his name, hoping I might hear him respond. I didn’t want to believe he was dead yet. I wanted to believe he was somewhere within these halls and he needed to be found. Even at the cost of myself, I wasn’t going to leave him. And then, it hit me. The more I called for him, the more welcoming the halls became. The more I began to find that I wasn’t just comfortable. I was welcome. I was able to spend more and more time in the Spiral each time. I knew quite well that I was likely losing more and more of myself with each trip. I would talk to no one, or perhaps someone, whenever I was there. I would have conversations with whatever was residing in the halls. Like I was spending my time with a friend. Like I was talking to Michael. Maybe it was something I did to keep myself grounded the deeper I ventured. When I came out, I often could not sleep. I wouldn’t show up to work for days at a time, either due to the passage of time itself in the Spiral, or just because I couldn’t find the strength. My visits only began to slow when I started to notice the door in Michael’s apartment. It had stopped appearing anywhere else. Just Michael’s place. There had been something etched into the door. The method I had given Michael about how to be sure the doors he used in his regular life were the right ones. There had been a slight carving around the doorknob. I had etched it into the door of Michael’s apartment back when he first started to show signs of concern. It was his door. But he was not here to open it. It sat across from our bed, like it was waiting for me. It wanted me to open it. But this time, I was not invited to come inside. So I did something else. I just opened it. I opened the door and I left it open wide. And I said that whatever was in there that wanted to see me so badly could come out. This was a new behavior. And I welcomed it, just as it had welcomed me. That was when I met the Distortion.

It didn’t look like Michael when I first met with it. It looked like a young woman, maybe late teens. Dark skin and hair but her shoulders were unnaturally hunched up and her hands. They were so long and spindly. She was dressed in gym wear, a loose, cut up t-shirt and yoga pants. And she sat on the bed in front of me. I left the door open. Day in, day out. I had left an invitation for the Spiral to come in to my residence and it took a week or so before it took form and visited me. I had managed to be sleeping that night, but something stirred in me and caused me to wake up. And I found it sitting cross legged on the bed. Just staring at me. I don’t think the Spiral had decided to use Michael’s form yet when it came to mingling with people yet. Maybe I was the reason it started to, but I wasn’t sure. Still not.

It asked me a question. It’s voice unnerved me and it smiled at me as it spoke and there was something so wholly unsettling about that smile. Like my head was aching from just looking at it. And it asked what was so important that I was always coming in its doors. It told me it was quite bothered by my coming in and making no means of trying to escape, or find its center. It didn’t like that I was searching for someone rather than something. I told it that I was looking for my boyfriend. He was inside there somewhere and I was going to bring him out. I’m not sure if it liked that response but it left after that. Not for good, because a few nights later the same thing happened. But this time, it sat in the form of a man. He was about forty or so, olive skin, light hair with a stern, crooked nose and a scruffy beard. It asked if this was the person I had been looking for. And I said no. And it was gone again. This went on every few nights for, god, close to a year. Each time I would give it another bit about how Michael looked. I tried to show it a photograph before but when it looked at my phone, the screen just went fuzzy and I had to restarted it in order for it to work right again.

Until one night it got it right. It spoke in the same voice, although there was a different, almost feedback like twang to the way it spoke to me. And when I awoke, the Spiral had gotten it right. I saw my Michael sitting on the bed in front of me and the sight of him was enough to get me to throw off my covers and kneel in front of him, hands upon his face. I must have been crying or maybe it was looking straight at the Spiral, but I couldn’t get a clear look at him. I told it that it was right and this was the person I was looking for. And I needed him back.

And you know what it said?

‘No, I don’t think so.’

I don’t think I had ever been so scared to see Michael’s smile. It just smiled at me and it ran the tip of one of those long, spindly fingers under my chin and I hadn’t even registered that it had made me bleed. And it just said ‘No, I think I shall keep this one a little more. See how far you’re willing to go to get him back.’

And it went into the door again. This time it smiled the whole way. And when the door closed. I was immediately on my feet to run at it to chase it down. But the door was gone.

I took something equivalent to a sabbatical a few weeks later, Jon -- it was around the time you started as archivist. Tim had been working beneath me before my sabbatical and I think that’s part of what drove him to join your team. I was going to be gone for a few months and I wouldn’t have the chance to give him any work to do. Elias was more than happy to give me the time off, but he did something to me. I think as assurance I wouldn’t go running away forever. I think I had started to become a threat to him in some way. Not sure how. Still not. Part of me is somewhat convinced that Elias was planning on using me to get the Spiral to touch you, but I don’t things went exactly as he expected. Especially considering the Spiral had plans of its own.

I was on leave for about three months. I took a few weeks to fly back to the States to visit my parents and check in with the Foundation. I checked in with the archive staff there to see if I could scour some of their resources for what I had been experiencing. But we were never as well equipped with statements as the Magnus Institute. I found a lot of my efforts there weren’t really worth my time. Although I did learn a little about a few groups in North America that had their eye -- Jon, keep an eye out on the Codley family of New York. They’re a cult family, but I wasn’t able to pinpoint of what exactly. If I find out more, I’ll let you know. I only met one person back at the Usher Foundation that knew anything that might help me. In fact, it was their own archivist, man by the name of Warren Chase. I’m actually still in touch with him, if you ever want to meet him. He seems to be following your accounts pretty intensely. Said that he’s been having duplicates of your statements and recordings sent to him. We know who’s to blame for that, obviously. Truth be told, he’d asked me to come back to the Foundation. He wanted me to join his team, but I had to decline. Work here is far too time consuming. But, you see, Warren hadn’t been touched by the Spiral, but he’d been touched by the Stranger. Stranger apparently is very tied in with the Foundation. Something to do with the number of secret organization and secret government activities happening back in the States that there are people within our own organizations that are not what they seem to be. Now, Warren seemed to be far more optimistic about my situation than I was. Told me that if one can keep their head when dealing with these entities, you can retrieve someone lost to them. I mean...you were able to bring back Daisy. I’ve had no such luck.

Jon, I know Michael’s gone now. The Spiral swaps its forms whenever it so chooses and I know it discarded Michael’s form when I. . .When I took too long. I’ve met it as it is now. Helen is the name of the woman it appears as. It’s told me that I knows me, but it has no attachment for me now like it had when it was Michael. It knows Michael had loved me.

But it was the time that the Distortion was Michael that was what ultimately brought me to where I am. I’m just one foray or so away from becoming its next avatar at this point and I mean it when I say that I am absolutely fine with that. I spent the time of my leave looking for those doors. Looking for how to get into the Spiral from other entrance ways and other methods to get myself lost in those halls again. This time from a new vantage point, from a new perspective. I was going to find Michael and I was going to bring him home! And I like to think that I nearly succeeded. It might sound absurd to you but, I think I had become something like friends with the Spiral by the time I had figured some things out. It probably started when I had encountered it behind a bar during my last few days in the States before returning to London. It was preying on this young woman who was trying to tell her friends about this store she’d kept passing each day on her home from work, and each time she would try to take someone there it was always an old butcher’s shop, long since closed down. I had noticed the Spiral lurking around and when I found myself in the men’s room looking at what appeared to be a door to the outside, I stepped out of the room and found the actual entrance to the back of the bar. The Spiral had been waiting for me, wearing Michael’s face as it had grown fond of doing. And I told it that I had figured one thing out. I knew that just because it looked like Michael, it was not Michael. And I think that curried my favor with it a bit. It liked that I was playing its game and calling its bluff. And it became just that with me and the Distortion. A game between the two of us. The Spiral in its own way was entertained by my dedication. And somewhere down the line, I think we became, well, I like to think we had become friends. Or as close to friends as you can be wit the entity of Deceit.” And Nelson stops, and he stands up and smiles at Jon. “I think this is where you say ‘Statement ends’ isn’t it?” The recording does not stop, but Jon looks up at the researcher who has now raised to his feet and offered a smirk to the archivist. “You’d be surprised how many of us can be touched by our host without losing our wits. Maybe I’ll indulge you with the rest sometime. Take care, Jon.”

#tma #the magnus archives #OC fanfition #evan talks his ocs #nelsoncore

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murasaki-murasame · 5 years

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I’ve seen a lot of people being like “but how could Mascula have even worked as a playable adventurer when he’s a pacifist?” so let’s go over some options for how he could have been a playable adventurer without ‘contradicting’ his pacifism.

[I’m just gonna put this under a cut since it got long]

1: Literally just make him a healer. That’s like the bare minimum you need to do to give him a playable role based around helping people. He doesn’t even necessarily need to be a staff unit to be a healer. I’ve been wanting them to experiment with having healer characters that have weapon types other than staffs, and he would have been a great candidate for that. They could have even given him a defensive coability instead of the usual blade one.

2: Make him a dedicated buffer unit like Emma, and make both of his skills into different types of team buffs.

3: Make him a dedicated debuffer like Delphi, and make his skills do stuff like stunning the enemy or directing aggro toward him. Maybe they could go the whole nine yards and have his regular attacks not actually do any damage, but inflict some sort of status effect or something, with the rest of his kit being tuned to make up for his lack of strength. Or they could give him a permanent strength debuff, also like Delphi.

4: They could just give him a character arc where he accepts the fact that hardline pacifism doesn’t work in times of war, and so he reluctantly accepts the idea of taking up the blade until true peace can be made.

Side note: I really don’t care about any of the reasons why he ‘wouldn’t make sense as a playable adventurer’ when we have characters in the game like Elias, Pia, Lathna, Noelle, and Emma. I don’t even have any sort of issue with those types of characters being playable and being used to fight dragons and shit, I just think it goes to show that it really doesn’t matter if a character engaging in combat doesn’t really make sense based on their characterization, age, or whatever.

There’s so many things they could have done to make him work as a playable adventurer, and the only reason he isn’t one is because they chose not to make him one.

They also didn’t actually kill him off so honestly nothing’s stopping them from just having one of the various scientist characters in the cast study Laxi’s body and figure out how to put Mascula back into his own body. Again, the bottom line is that they’re just choosing to sideline him, not because their hands are somehow magically bound by the sheer power of his characterization and there’s nothing they could do about it even if they wanted to.

And for the record, I’ve read Laxi’s adventurer story and it just solidified everything about why I dislike Laxi as a character and why I think both her and Mascula suffer as characters due to being shoved into the same body. Laxi’s personality is basically just ‘remember 2B? From Nier Automata? She was pretty cool, wasn’t she???’, and like 80% of her own adventurer story is focused on Mascula instead of her. While at the same time Mascula literally can’t be his own character anymore because he’s stuck in Laxi’s body, and even by the end of Laxi’s adventurer story it feels like his pacifism is a character flaw that hasn’t meaningfully been challenged or ‘dealt with’. I’m pretty sure that right at the end of the story he’s still complaining about Laxi stepping on flowers, just to hammer in the fact that he’s still irrationally pacifistic and that hasn’t really changed. I think they both weigh each other down and keep each other from being their own, complete characters because of the situation they got stuck in, and I think that’s really frustrating. I think Laxi actually has a lot of potential to be a genuinely good character, and I like her sibling banter with Mascula in concept, but in practice she just feels like a very hollow and thinly sketched out character. And Mascula just got the short end of the stick in general. At least in the English version, he doesn’t even have his own voice, since in Laxi’s voiced lines they just have her VA put on this really fake-sounding male voice when she’s meant to be voicing Mascula. Which feels almost insulting, lmao.

I’m also well aware that the end of Laxi’s adventurer story hints at there being something up with Maestro, but that’s just a completely nebulous question mark at the moment with no real indication of what’s going on with it. I’m not exactly gonna hold my breath and hope that it has something to do with them continuing their story down the track in a way that involves Mascula getting his own body again, so really I don’t have any real opinion toward it. It might lead somewhere, or it might not. Who knows!

At this point I’m just ranting again, but still, this just feels like a frustrating mess of missed opportunities. Though tbh at the end of the day I think that if everything else about the game was perfectly fine, I’d be more willing to let this sorta thing slide, but since this is just one mess on top of a whole list of other things that have been going wrong with the game lately [expert/master high dragon trials, time attack rankings, HDT weapons, everything to do with Gala Cleo, augments as a gameplay mechanic in general, strings of reruns, the Megaman event being disappointing, and to a lesser extent the notable bias toward female characters], it’s much harder to have patience for it.

I’ve also seen lots of people being all doom and gloom lately about how the game’s not super profitable for Cygames, and I’m just here like ‘seriously Cygames, I will literally give you real money if you at least just let me play as Mascula’, but I doubt they’re gonna give me that option, lol. I already spend money on this game so I’m not even exaggerating when I say that I’d be perfectly happy to spend real money on Mascula if they gave me the choice to.

#murasaki rants #dragalia lost #I continue to be extremely On My Bullshit #@Cygames: pay me for my silence

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statementends · 5 years

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Since I'm already babbling about it at you on discord. Jon/Elias reincarnation au

Characters: Jonah Magnus, Elias Bouchard, Jonathan Fanshaw, Jonathan Sims

Pairings: Jonah/Jonathan Fanshaw, Jonah!Elias/Jon

Rating: T+

Warnings: Web stuff mentioned, Jonah/Elias have creepy thoughts, threatened outing, controlling thoughts, Jon is Ace but Jonah doesn’t care about that (or Jon’s feelings in general). Mostly Jonah having creepy intentions.

Summary: Elias recognized his eyes right away, and then he recognized his voice.

Jonathan had been slow in seducing, but well worth it. He was a fascinating man. Curious and clever. Unflinching to the nastiness of the world, ever indignant. A grumpy angel on Jonah’s shoulder.

Albrecht had been a step too far too quickly. Jonathan was a long an aching regret. He would have been perfect. His perfect Archivist.

But it had been far too early in his own awakening to guide his Jonathan. After Albrecht’s death Jonathan made it clear where he stood on the matter. Where he placed blame. It was amazing how Jonathan managed to be so observant, but always managed to miss the connecting dots. Albrecht would have been dead anyway, the books were a means to an end and there were other powers at work that needed containment. Milbank had been important and Jonathan himself could have gained so much if he had only stopped refusing Jonah’s letters, and company, and bed.

Jonah had existed too long to have these sort of … human regrets, and yet with the passing years and the passing Archivists he always thought of Jonathan Fanshaw. A useless comparison. Jonathan had never been his in all the ways he wanted him. He had never been an Archivist or scion of the Beholding, despite his own best efforts.

Near the end he had begged and made threats. He had been so close to uncovering the ritual that would bring his Master into the world and he needed the right person to stand at his side. Nothing worked. Even when he threatened to expose them both and the letters he had kept between them. He had kept everything that Jonathan ever wrote to him. Jonathan always spoke plainly. It was clear what the letters meant. It would destroy his practice, and his life and reputation. He still refused him.

But the Eye isn’t the only one that watches. The Spiders got Jonathan, and although time and alliances forced working with them he never forgot what they took. Never forgot Jonathan’s delicate broken movements in their threads.

Jonah Magnus would never know another man like him. Not for two hundred years.

Time and priorities move differently when you continue on and on. Different bodies had different challenges and desires. Despite his start, Elias Bouchard suited him. Opened to this world of fear and monsters Elias was alive for the first time in his squandered life. They melded well. Their memories complimented. Elias came to love Jonathan as Jonah had.

Meeting Jonathan Sims was a shock straight into Jonah who had never forget those eyes even two-hundred years later. Dark eyes, deep, intelligent, and beautiful. That took in everything in the room.

And his voice.

A different accent, but the same rich voice that had huffed at him when he was frustrated. That would make that soft rare chuckle at a jest. Jonathan had never laughed much, but he had a wry humour. It was Jonathan’s voice, and Jonathan’s eyes, even Jonathan’s temperment.

It was Elias that stopped him from plunging into the young man’s head and learning everything about him.

He skimmed the surface thoughts. The usual things. Mostly nervousness about the job interview. Jonathan–Jon… he keenly wanted it. It was the next logical step in his life. Elias pushed a little more. Jonathan unfurled before them answering every question his potential employer could have asked without even knowing it. Among the nerves was another set. Being watch. The Eye already had its sights on him. It pleased Elias to no end. Jonah kept digging though.

A door. Someone grabbed by spider’s legs–

He let Jonathan finish and hired him on the spot as a researcher.

He went home. Elias felt foolish for it thinking he was being influenced by memories of a dead man, Jonah knew though.

When he closed his eyes he dreamed of Jonathan made to dance by silk threads, but it wasn’t Doctor Fanshaw.

It built inside of him, that finally he had found him again. In the world he had come to know reincarnation didn’t seem so unbelievable. He wouldn’t doubt a trap either, the Web getting creative and breaking their alliance.

It didn’t matter. Elias came to cherish Jon, and Jonah already did.

He had found his Archivist, and nothing would keep him from him this time.

Gertrude’s betrayal honestly couldn’t have come at a better time. She had been so useful stopping the others from rising it was hard to justify making room for another, but then she wanted to burn the archives.

There was a certain smugness he felt. Having Jonathan after all the running. Innocent and unaware, eager even for the job he offered. For the life he was laying out for him. Jon stepped into it so easily he wanted to laugh. He wanted to pull the younger man to him and tell him everything. He wanted him back in his bed with Fashaw’s indignance and Jon’s innocence learning every detail all over again.

It was a shame Jon wouldn’t be amenable to that.

Not without without a struggle.

But Jonah wasn’t going to let go this time.

He would hold him again and Jon would stand at his side for the end of the world as they would make it.

#tma #the magnus archives #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #jonathan fanshaw #jonathan sims #eliasjon #fanfiction #raspberrysundae

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friendlycybird · 5 years

Text

The Magnus Archives Characters

If you’ve been reading all my TMA posts, you’ve probably gathered a little bit of how I feel about each of the characters. I figure I’ll just take a moment to be plain about each of them. To keep this brief, I’ll only be discussing characters whose voices we have heard more than once, who are currently alive. So obviously there are a few characters with a lot of weight in the overall arc or even just that make my shortlist of favorites who I won’t be getting into. Yet. Lemme know if I forgot anyone who fits those qualifiers.

Jonathan Sims - The Archivist.

I...I don’t even know what to say about Jon? He made me angry a lot in the beginning, but I always knew I’d grow to love him. I think I was helped a lot by coming into TMA direct from Gravity Falls? In that Jon seems very much cut from the same cloth as Ford. So it was always a familiar sort of irritation I felt with him, and still feel if I’m honest. Placing a “save the world” flavored burden on him doesn’t really help with the parallels there either. I think that...ultimately I just want to help him? I’ve noticed a lot of my affection for other characters tends to be built on how much they care about or want to care for Jon. Really I just wanna wrap him in a blanket, give him some tea, let him sleep for a week and then give him a nice safe job where he gets to do a lot of quiet reading.

Martin Blackwood

My baby. I don’t think you understand how much I love this man, alright? I fucking *adore* Martin. He’s the best. He’s just. Doing his best and he’s totally overwhelmed and probably always has been because he’s neck-deep in a job he’s not technically qualified for that just became a HELL of a lot more than a job and he’s just genuinely *sweet* and fucking...naive. But he’s learning, and when it comes down to it he steps up. He’s my favorite, and I don’t expect that to change.

Tim Stoker

Tim is like a housecat. Pound by pound he ought to be nature’s perfect predator...except for the fact that he’s the smallest animal in the room and it pisses him off. He actually reminds me a bit of a character you might see on a show like The Good Place. Genuinely fun, professional, flirtatious, - and utterly consumed by a situation so far beyond him that it’s all he can do to even imagine that he’s still a good person. While Martin is stepping up to do what he needs to do, what’s expected of him, Tim is just trying to survive with his...sense of self intact. I’ve been told Tim gets some “interesting development” that makes a lot of stuff around him spoilery, and honestly I haven’t asked if I’m there yet because I find his development so far extremely interesting. Assuming he has a secret to be revealed though...I’m definitely looking forward to it.

Elias Bouchard

I wish I could hate him. I wish I could dismiss him as evil and be on my way. It’s not that simple though, is it? Elias is an avatar of The Eye. He may or may not be the same Elias Bouchard that shares his official record, and I’ve recently realized that can’t possibly be the first name he’s used. Whatever else is happening, Elias wants to stop The Unknowing. Or, more precisely, he wants to train Jon to stop The Unknowing. At this point it seems he is almost completely unrestrained by any human limitations in terms of knowledge and ability, but his hands are almost completely tied by the workings of something...higher. He’s...a genuinely fascinating character. Surprisingly so for someone with so little affect.

Sasha James

Okay, I know I said I’d stick to the ones who are still alive I *know*. I Just. I couldn’t leave out Sasha. That was the team, right? Tim, Sasha, and Martin. Sasha was empirical without being blinded by a need for evidence, and arguably the most courageous character we’ve had yet. Coming out of months working in Artifact Storage and not being as desperate to leave the Institute as later season Tim? I Miss Sasha, and giving up hope of getting her back has been the hardest thing this show has made me do yet.

Melanie King

If someone had to replace Sasha, I’m glad it’s Melanie. She’s a good foil for Jon, I think. She’s practical, but seems like she’s a fun person when her life isn’t totally falling apart. Maybe I just have a soft spot for characters with backgrounds in media production, I don’t know, but I’m definitely enjoying her.

Basira Hussain

I love her? I don’t know why, or when this happened I certainly didn’t straight-up love her coming out of the initial Section 31 episode but somewhere along the lines... and like. I’m perhaps more amused than I should be by the reactions to people thinking she’s romantically linked with Jon - and as I type this I realized what I love about her so much. She gives me something of a Donna Noble vibe. I can’t back that up with any textual evidence but...

Michael

Effortlessly alien. Naturally other. He wears his status as something inhuman so well that the implication he may have been human as recently as 2007 is utterly jarring and I’m *desperate* for an explanation. I’m glad he’s the first...avatar...we’ve actually heard from in its full capacity as such? Because he’s such a perfect example with the kind of...otherness...being featured here.

Alice “Daisy” Tonner

She appeals to the part of me that watched Nine Seasons of Supernatural, honestly? She fits that...Hunter Mold, in an increasingly “(s)he who fights monsters...” sort of way. I don’t blame her for wanting to kill Jon. I don’t blame her for backing down when Elias played her relationship with Basira against them both.

Georgie Barker

She’s coming for my “Favorite Character” Spot HARD. She’s already knocked Gerard Keay out of his second place spot and if Martin hadn’t been so wonderful in Light’s Out she might have pulled first. She’s AMAZING. She *Recovered* from a brush with well, That! She recovered and she’s living her life and she can’t feel fear but that doesn’t for a moment make her stupid or reckless - or make her lose compassion for people who are scared. She’s a master a tough love and has been so *good* for Jon this season.

Also, her cat is fucking adorable. ...and now I’ve said that I’m actually really worried about the cat.

#Cybird Says Things #about TMA #The Magnus Archives

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eldritchteaparty · 3 years

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Chapters: 14/20 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Rosie Zampano, Oliver Banks, Original Elias Bouchard, Peter Lukas, Annabelle Cane, Melanie King, Georgie Barker, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, Basira Hussain Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Fix-It, Post-Canon Fix-It, Scars, Eventual Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, I'll add characters and tags as they come up, Reference to injuries and blood, Character Death In Dream, Nudity (not sexual or graphic), Nightmares, Fighting

Summary: Following the events of MAG 200, Jon and Martin find themselves in a dimension very much like the one they came from--with second chances and more time.

Chapter summary: Martin tells Tim everything that’s happened to him and Jon, and about the fear entities that now inhabit this dimension.

Read above at AO3 or read here below!

Tumblr master post with links to previous chapters is here.

***

“Damn.” Tim stood up and looked down at Jon lying on the bed, where he and Martin had just deposited him. “He is really out of it.”

“Yeah. That—that happens.” Martin decided it was a little cool in the bedroom, and pulled the blanket over Jon. When he looked up again, Tim was staring at him in a very specific way that he decided to ignore. “Thanks for helping me get him back here.”

“Well, you definitely weren’t getting any help from him. So… are we still doing this?”

“Yeah.” Martin took one last look at Jon; at least he still looked peaceful. “Let’s, um—let’s go to the sitting room. Can I get you some tea? Or—”

“No.” Tim shook his head as they made their way back out of the bedroom. “Can I ask—are we doing this now because Jon is knocked out?”

“No,” Martin said immediately, then thought a little more. “Well—mostly no.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means—” Martin tried to think of the best way to say it. “Look, he knows we have to tell you. I just don’t get the feeling he—I think it’s better if I do it.”

“Better for who?”

“I—” Martin sighed. “Look—we can wait until he wakes up, if you want.”

“Nope.” Tim sat on the couch and turned to Martin. “That’s all right.”

Martin grabbed the chair from Jon’s desk and brought it over to face Tim. As he did so, he realized he’d thought through how to tell certain parts of the story quite a lot, but others not nearly as much. One thing he hadn’t really thought about at all was how to start.

“Are you sure you don’t want tea?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Fine. Ok—ok. So.” He took a deep breath. “Five years ago—about—we all started working in the archives together. Sasha applied for the head archivist job and she got it; she asked you and Jon to take assistant positions, and I interviewed for the third one and—well, Sasha gave me a chance. Right?”

Tim raised an eyebrow. “Right…”

“And since then—I mean, we’ve done, like—pretty normal archive stuff. And sure, the Institute is a bit off, like—the stuff people want us to store for them and the research and all that, but it’s been fine, right?”

“Um…”

“I mean compared to what’s been happening since—since Jon and I disappeared.”

“Yeah, ok. I’ll give that to you.” Tim continued to look at him expectantly.

“Ok. Ok. Well—it happened a different way, too. Some—somewhere else.”

“Ok.” Tim sat back and crossed his arms over his chest.

“And look—no matter how I tell this—it’s not going to make sense until I really get it all out. So—”

“I’m listening.”

“Right. It’s just that it’s—”

“Martin.”

“Ok. So five years ago, in this—other place, we all started working in the archives. Only—only Sasha wasn’t the head archivist, Jon was.”

Tim shifted his weight on the couch, but didn’t uncross his arms. “You know he applied for the position? I’m not supposed to—no one knows I know that, actually. Not even Jon.”

“Huh.” Martin hadn’t been aware. “I mean—I didn’t know either, but that makes sense.”

“Does it? We all knew Sasha was applying, and she was way more qualified. Nothing against Jon, just—objectively, she was.”

“I mean that it makes sense given—well, ok, we’ll get to that. So you know the people here that started coming in to talk to us—the interviews and the—the statements, the written ones—the thing is, there, that was what we did. It was what we’d always done at the Magnus Institute, in the archives. The written statements, they went back years. Like, two hundred years and then some from before the Institute existed. And we researched them and filed them and we all just—it was normal.”

Tim was listening, which was all Martin could ask.

“So we—we didn’t necessarily believe all of them—though maybe we did more than we said—but then—Jane Prentiss happened.”

Martin told him everything he could remember about it, everything that he could organize into sentences, and Tim’s expression stayed almost the same the entire time. He realized Tim was still trying to decide what to make of it when he got to the part about Sasha being replaced, because even after hearing about what happened to him and Jon with the worms, that was really the first time Tim’s face changed.

“Wait.” Tim finally interrupted him. “This—this happened, or—”

“Yes,” Martin said, “and I know, it doesn’t make sense yet—”

“But—this happened to you? Us? Sasha?”

“Yes.”

“When, though? When you—disappeared, or—”

“No. That happened at the end. Just—”

“Ok. Ok—but Sasha, she—she changed? She became this—”

“No. She—she was replaced. Sasha—” He didn’t like thinking about it now any more than he ever had. “Sasha died. She was gone. And none of us knew.”

“But if none of us knew—”

“Well, that’s not entirely true, Melanie knew, sort of. And then later Jon figured it out, but—well, there’s more. Just—just listen.”

“Does this come back to—to now, though?”

“Yes. In the end, it—it will.”

Martin took another breath and continued; Tim seemed much more invested now than he had been initially, and that unfortunately made it a little harder to tell the story. He eventually got to the part about Tim and what happened to Danny.

“Wait.” As soon as Tim realized where it was going, he leaned forward, uncrossing his arms. “Start over again.”

So Martin started over again, and this time he got all the way through to the end before Tim interrupted him.

“Why Danny? Why would that happen to him?”

Martin shrugged, then regretted it as he realized what a casual gesture it was. “I don’t know. It’s not really clear why—why anyone.”

“But what did he do? Why?”

“Tim, he didn’t do anything. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why didn��t I stop it, though? Did I say why I didn’t at least stop him from going back? I mean, he came to me.”

“Tim—” Martin stood up from his chair and sat next to Tim on the couch. “You didn’t know. You couldn’t have.”

“But if this happened—this happened?”

“Yes. It happened.”

“I would have known something wasn’t right. He came to me. How hard would it have been to—to just stay up with him?”

“Tim, that’s not how they work.”

“They. The—the fears?”

“Yes. And the people and the—things—that serve them.” Martin ran a hand over his face before continuing. “They manipulate you. They—they trap you. Like they trapped all of us at the Institute.”

“So you said. So what—I just let it go? I went to work at the Institute but then just forgot about it?”

“No. Not at all. Actually, after that, you—well, ok.” He told Tim everything he’d learned about the Unknowing, everything that Basira and later Jon had told him about it.

“Good,” Tim said, after Martin told him how it had ended. “At least I knew how to go out, anyway.”

Martin cringed as the memory of cleaning out Tim’s desk after Peter Lukas took over the Institute hit him all over again. Tim might have seen it, or maybe he didn’t, but either way he sat back on the couch again and seemed to collect himself.

“Go on. I still don’t know where this is all going. And you still haven’t said anything about why Elias was doing all this. Why he was trapping everyone into working at the Institute for the—the Eye?”

“Yeah. Right. Well—he wasn’t. Not really.” Martin continued the story, explaining how he had done his best to try to protect everyone after Peter had taken over the Institute, but ultimately hadn’t done anything at all except fall into another trap. He explained how Jon had woken up and his abilities had been stronger, how Jon had done everything he could to keep everyone safe and to prevent any further rituals—but in the end, that too had all been a manipulation. He told Tim how he and Jon had learned that Jonah Magnus had been operating through the successive heads of the Magnus Institute.

“So—Elias, then—”

“We never met him. Not really.”

“Ok—go on. So Jon came after you, and then what?”

“We left. We went as far away as we could get quickly.”

“You and Jon—together?”

Martin had left out some of the more personal details of the story, but Tim had read between the lines. Martin nodded.

“Fair enough. Go on.”

“Well—it wasn’t far enough. Jonah knew where we were—”

“Well, yeah—”

Martin sighed. “—and he used Jon to trigger an apocalypse. It turned out that everything Jon had been doing—all the avatars he’d confronted, all the things he’d done to try to save us, the rituals he’d been trying to stop—they’d all marked him. He’d been marked by every single entity, and Jonah used that to start an apocalypse. He unleashed all the fears.”

“What?”

“Like—the world ended. It was just fear. Everywhere. People were trapped in these domains and they couldn’t leave them and they just lived their fear. And the Eye—watched it all. Through Jonah.”

“What? I’m sorry, I just—”

“Literally the end of the world. I can’t really say it any differently. Like there was one where everything was on fire, and another one that was just a giant carousel but—well, never mind that—and oh god, once we had to jump off the side of a cliff—”

“All right, I’ll just—accept that, I guess?—I did not think that was where this was going—but ok, how did you say Jon started this exactly?”

“He didn’t. Jonah did.”

“Ok but—he used Jon—how?”

“He sent a statement. And Jon read it. He still needed to do that. Obviously we didn’t know it was from him—we thought Basira sent it—”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah, well.”

“And you didn’t stop him?”

“I wasn’t there. Just—for a moment. I told you, they always had this way of—”

“Never mind. But I still don’t get it. You said this all happened. So… why are we here?”

“It didn’t happen here. It happened—I’m getting there.”

He skipped most of the journey through the apocalypse; he picked up again when they got back to London and reunited with Melanie and Georgie. He explained how they had found Jonah, and how Jon had realized he had the option to take over the apocalypse in Jonah’s place.

“And—what?” Tim asked. “End it?”

“No.” Martin shook his head. “He couldn’t do that. We weren’t sure what he could do exactly, but he knew he couldn’t do that. He could maybe—shift things around. Maybe make it not so bad for—for some people. For a while.” He deliberately didn’t explain exactly what that meant, and very deliberately left out the other option Jon had eventually arrived at.

“So—did he?”

“Not—not then. We didn’t exactly see eye-to-eye on—that.”

Tim nodded.

Martin decided to skip some other details too. “Well—not long after, Annabelle Cane—”

“The—the spider person?”

“Yeah. She told us about another way. A way that we could end it. By—by letting the fears out.”

“Out? Out where?”

“There was a—a crack. A gap. Um—between dimensions. That place—where all this happened—it turns out it was just one of who knows how many realities.”

“Ok. Why would she tell you that, though? Didn’t they like it there?”

“She said—she said at the time that, eventually, that whole world was doomed. In the end, the—well, Death—the fear of Death—would kill everything, and the entities would remain alone with nothing left to—to feed them. And obviously she didn’t want that.”

“Oh.” Martin could see that the wheels in Tim’s head were starting to turn; he’d have to pick up the pace a little bit more if he wanted to tell it himself.

“So—we voted.”

“You voted.”

“Yeah. And we voted to let them out. To end it.”

“Right. Ok—makes sense, I guess, but—what did that mean? I guess you would get rid of them, but—then where would they go?”

Martin paused a moment. “We—we didn’t know. We talked about it a lot but in the end—we couldn’t know, and we knew the people in that place were suffering. And the other option was Jon taking over. Given that he couldn’t stop it, that didn’t seem like it should be a real option to—to most of us. Well, some of us.”

Tim glanced back in the direction of the bedroom. “I can see that. Ok—so you voted to let them out. Did you?”

Martin considered what he should say; he opted for the short version. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.”

“And what happened? Did the apocalypse end?”

“Jon says it did.”

“What—what does that mean?”

“Jon and I—we—we ended up here.”

“Here? What do you mean?” Tim narrowed his eyes and looked hard at Martin.

“Jon and I ended up here. On the—in front of the Institute. And you found us. Eventually. After a couple of months, I’m guessing.”

Tim didn’t move for about thirty seconds, then his eyes went wide and he jumped up from the couch.

“No. No no no no—”

“Yeah.”

“What happened to the Jon and Martin that were here, then? Where did they—”

“We’re them, too. It’s really hard to—”

“Wait. Did they—the—fears, the entities, whatever you call them—did they come here too?”

“Yes.” Martin looked down at his feet.

“And that’s why all this—no. No. Did you—did you know? Did you know they would end up here?”

“I told you we didn’t.”

“You didn’t know what would happen and you all just decided to send them on out? Like a big goddamn gift to—to—”

“We didn’t know. And—” Martin took a breath. “We didn’t all decide that. Jon—Jon didn’t want to.”

“But he let you. And anyway, it doesn’t count if he only didn’t want to because he got to be some kind of—what, apocalypse god?”

“It wasn’t like that that.”

“All right, what was it like then? Explain.”

“He didn’t really want to do it. It was—he would have—”

“I would have ended it.” Martin on the couch, and Tim in front of it, both turned their head toward the hallway where Jon was now standing.

Tim answered faster than Martin could. “Martin said you couldn’t end it.”

“I couldn’t make it go away. There were other ways to end it.”

“Jon—”

“Don’t protect me, Martin. Not—like that.”

Martin looked at Tim’s face again; he was deep in thought.

“It was your decision, then?” he finally asked Jon.

“Yes.”

“Why did you let them out?”

Martin interrupted. “I told you, we voted, and—”

“Martin,” Jon said gently, and Martin stopped.

Tim waited.

“I tried to keep them there, but I didn’t—I didn’t plan for everything. And in the end, there were—sacrifices I wasn’t willing to make. That I still wouldn’t make.” He met Martin’s eyes, and Tim also turned slowly back to Martin.

“Jesus Christ.”

Martin continued to hold Jon’s eyes, but he could see Tim furiously typing into his phone next to him. For the first time ever, he vaguely wished that he could know what Jon was thinking. It would have almost been worth it.

“Jon—”

“It’s all right.” He was still speaking in the same soft voice. “It really is. It was time. But I am—I am going to have a cigarette.” Jon walked out to the balcony, and a few moments later the faint smell of smoke wafted in through the door. Everything felt like it had slowed down for Martin; Tim seemed able to move at an impossibly fast pace as he answered his phone and started shouting into it.

“Just—just come over here,” he was saying, as Martin began to make sense of his words. “No, you need to hear this from them, there’s no way I can—well if they’re closing the place, it sounds like you have to leave. No, just come straight here. Sasha—no, believe me, none of it matters. None of it. Just leave.”

He hung up his phone and looked blankly at Martin for a moment; he started to say something, but then shook his head and held out a finger toward Martin.

“No. No, there are some things I need to hear from him.” He started out toward the balcony, and Martin stood up.

“Tim—leave him alone. He’s—”

“It’s fine,” Jon called into the flat. “I’ll—I’ll talk to him. It’s ok.”

“Damn right, you’ll talk to me. I need to—” One of them closed the door to the balcony and Martin could only hear Tim’s general intonations; he could barely hear Jon at all. In a moment he gave up trying to listen, and sat down on the couch. He leaned back and closed his eyes, and tried not to have too many thoughts for the moment; he didn’t open them again until he heard an anxious knocking at the front door.

“Come in,” he shouted, and Sasha opened the door just wide enough to poke her head in; once she saw Martin, she walked in and closed it behind her.

“Tim said I should—” She stopped as she focused on Martin’s face over the back of the couch. “Martin, are you all right?”

“No,” he answered.

“Look, I’ve—” she came around to the other side of the couch and set her bag on the coffee table as she sat down. “They’ve closed the entire Institute while they’re investigating the—I just have no idea what to do right now. Tim called, and he’s been sending messages since then, but to be honest I don’t understand any of them. I’m lost.”

“Yeah.” Martin nodded, then dropped his forehead into his hand. “I just told Tim about—everything.”

“I gathered that,” Sasha said. “He seems—upset.”

“Yeah, well, he should be.”

“That’s him outside with Jon?”

“Yeah.”

“Hang on.” Sasha walked to the back door that led to the balcony and opened it. “Tim, I’m—”

“Oh god. Sasha. Oh shit.” Clearly whatever they had been discussing had not calmed Tim down at all. “We are so fucked.”

“Tim, I can see you are upset, but—”

“No. Upset does not even begin to describe what I am right now. I am—I am leaving. I need to leave.” He walked toward the front door.

Sasha started to follow him. “Tim—”

“Let him go,” Jon said.

“Fuck off,” Tim said, then turned to Martin. “You too. Screw both of you. Sasha, just—call. Call later.”

He left, slamming the door behind him.

“I’m sorry,” Sasha said, sighing. “I don’t know exactly what’s going on, but—”

“No,” Jon said, “he’s right to be angry.”

“Do you—think you can tell me whatever you told him?” Sasha asked.

“I can tell you,” Jon said, and then looked to Martin. “Are you all right?”

“No,” he said again. “How are you feeling? You were pretty out of it.”

“I’m—I’m all right, actually.” Jon took a seat next to Martin on the couch, and picked up his hand. “You don’t have to stay here for this. If you—”

“Yes, I do.”

Jon nodded. Sasha went to sit on the chair Martin had brought over earlier, and Martin protested. “No, Sasha—I can sit there—you can—”

“No, stay there.” Sasha smiled weakly. “I’ll be fine here.”

It wasn’t quite like listening to a statement—Martin could have interrupted if he’d wanted to—but Jon’s voice held that same contradictory combination of emotion and detachment it always had when he’d been reading a statement. The end result was that he seemed to explain everything twice as well in half the time that Martin had, and Sasha had remained drawn in and silent until the end.

“Tim should have heard it from you,” Martin mumbled, while Sasha took a moment.

“No,” Jon said. “I think—I think Tim needed to hear it from you, actually.”

Martin started to ask him what he meant, but Sasha broke her silence.

“So—now what?”

“Wait,” Martin said. “Aren’t you mad?”

“I’m—” Sasha considered. She looked tired, maybe in shock, but not angry. “I don’t know. Don’t get me wrong, this—sucks—but… I don’t know. What would I have done? I mean—” She laughed awkwardly. “I guess I would have died—”

Martin flinched.

“No—no, I’m sorry. I just meant—I really don’t know how to deal with this—there weren’t any right answers, were there?”

“If there were, I never chose them.” Jon absentmindedly reached for Martin’s hand again, and looked at him briefly when Martin held on to it harder than expected.

“I mean, I know why Tim’s angry,” Sasha continued. “But in the end, you—you really did save all those people.”

“I’m not sure I’d say—”

“But you did,” Sasha said. “Yes, they went through something awful, and I’m sure they were worse for it, but—their lives still had value. They still wanted to live, didn’t they?”

“Yes,” Martin said.

“And here—I know it’s already cost a lot—but we still have a chance. Don’t we?”

Neither of them answered her.

“Fine, but—I have to believe we do,” Sasha said. “I mean, Jon—even the—the Eye—it can’t see into other dimensions, right? And the Web probably—probably didn’t really anticipate all of this, right?”

“No,” Jon said. “It doesn’t work like that. At least not for the Eye.”

“So maybe—just maybe—things are different enough here that—I need to think.” Sasha pressed her knuckles to her mouth for a moment. “Jon, I imagine you still have some—influence over this situation?”

Martin looked at him, and Jon nodded. “Some. Yes.”

“How exactly do you plan on using it?”

“I don’t know,” Jon replied. “One way or another, I don’t—I need to make sure they don’t get out again.”

“Understood.” Sasha continued to press her hand to her mouth. “But we have time, right? Some, at least?”

Jon nodded again. “Yes. Of—of course.”

Martin squeezed Jon’s hand again.

“All right. Give me—give me a day or so just to—to really absorb all this. Then we’ll talk it out. Tim—oh, hang on.” She checked her phone, and scrolled down through a few messages that had gone unchecked while she’d been listening to Jon. “He says he’s going to visit Danny.”

“Good,” Jon said.

“Anyway, he’ll come around.” She thought a little bit more. “And I guess we should tell Melanie, and—and Elias.”

Jon stiffened. “Do you really think he—”

“After what he went through today, he—he deserves to know.”

Jon didn’t exactly relax. “Yes, fine. All right.”

“Will you two be all right if I go? Just—like I said, to gather my thoughts?”

For some reason they were both looking at Martin.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’ll be all right.”

“I’m glad you told us,” Sasha said, standing to grab her bag from the table. “I know that took a lot. And Tim—he really will come around.”

Jon walked with her over to the door and she said something quietly that Martin couldn't hear; then she left, and Martin crumbled into the couch.

***

“Come to bed.”

Martin, who had been doing his best to bury himself between the cushions and the back of the couch ever since Sasha left, turned over to face Jon. “I can sleep out here tonight, if you want.”

Jon knelt to be at eye level with him. “Why would I want that?”

“I don’t know.”

Jon sighed and crossed his legs to sit on the floor. “Martin—what did you think would happen when we told them?”

“I don’t—I mean, of course Tim is mad, but—Ok, I guess I really wasn’t actually thinking about how they would react at all. I just thought it would be better to have it out. That it would feel better.”

“Does it?”

“Obviously not.”

Jon nodded, and reached out to touch Martin’s face. His touch was comforting, which Martin had somehow not been expecting.

“I mean, Tim was bad—but at least it felt—”

“It felt right. That he was angry.”

“Maybe. It’s just that when I was telling it to him, and I was hearing myself say it—I’d really forgotten how bad it was. I mean, I hadn’t forgotten, but—I guess I’m not living it anymore. And that’s not fair. It’s not fair to the other Sasha and the other Tim and everyone else we left behind. I just guess I feel—”

“Guilty.”

“Hm.” Martin closed his eyes, concentrating on the feel of Jon’s hand. “And then Sasha—it’s like she just didn’t get it. I mean, no—I think she got it. She heard all of it and I think she believed it, but she should have been angry? At least—a little.”

“She still might be. They both have a lot to process.”

“Sure, but—she was so optimistic. She just doesn’t know. She never felt—”

“She just said what you’ve said.”

“I know. And when I heard her say it—it made me wonder if that’s how you think about me when I… I mean—we were both there, but you went through so much more than I did. I felt—I felt sorry for her.”

“Martin,” Jon said, “I have never once felt sorry for you. Worried, or—or sad, or—but no, never pity.”

Martin opened his eyes to look at Jon again.

“Are you mad that I told them?”

“No. I told you I understood. It was time.”

Martin sat up, and Jon moved to sit next to him.

“What are we going to do?” he asked.

“Go to bed,” Jon answered.

“I meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Jon touched his leg. “We let Sasha think. She tells Melanie and Georgie and—Elias, and Tim makes up his mind about what he wants to do.”

“And then what?”

“We talk.”

“Jon—” Martin sighed. “I don’t want to push, but—how does this all end up different from before?”

Jon pulled his hand back. “I don’t know. Maybe it doesn’t.”

They sat a little while longer, until Jon stood up and held a hand out for Martin. “Let’s go to bed.”

“All right.”

“Wait,” Jon said, after Martin got up. “Would you—would you eat something first? I didn’t want to interrupt you earlier. I thought you could use a moment.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You know, Martin—you are a bit of a hypocrite.”

“Yeah, I know.” He put his arm around Jon’s shoulders and kissed his head, and was briefly pulled back in his memories to the day he’d cut his hair for him. That was all he wanted; just that—or, well, a future where some days got to be like that one.

Why was that so much to ask for?

“But I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jon answered.

#the magnus archives #tma #mag pod #tma spoilers #jonmartin #tma fanfic #my writing

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kvothe-kingkiller · 6 years

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wtf is Nephelai

aight so if you’ve been following me for a bit you probably have Noticed me posting about the Thing I am writing which is called Nephelai.

so I thought I’d give a lil primer on it just for uhhh fun? I guess?

anyways. if you want it in a sentence its ‘gays out-science the competition’

if you want a little bit More info than that 4-5 word (depending on ur opinions on hyphens) blurb, here u go. I will put her under the cut so it does not clutter up the dashes of anyone who isn’t into this kinda thing. I am shit at brevity so this in itself is kinda long.

Just as far as vague genre/feeling stuff goes, it’s a sci fi and it kinda combines adventure with slice of life? Idk man. Its very much character based and a lot of it is dialogue. If you’re looking for pretty, poetic writing you’re not gonna find it here, I tend to just get to the point lol. It deals with some pretty heavy/dark stuff but I will tell you upfront that the ending is happy. There’s too many dark edgy books that end sad. Plus we don’t have enough gay stories that end well. It’s also quite R rated, though more in the violence/sweary way than the sexy way.

Given that it does deal with some Rough Shit (child abuse, racism, depression, etc.) I have a list of all the chapters and their possible triggers here. (its at the bottom of the post) I just put in general things but if you have a specific/more obscure trigger I would be happy to inform you if/where it shows up.

Also, just so you know, this fucker is Long. its at 180+K and I still haven’t gotten all the chapters out yet. As well as that, this is essentially a first draft. I know its slow to start and choppy in some places but currently Im just trying to get it out, and uploading the chapters as I go gives me incentive to do that, cause otherwise I’d never even get the first draft done. Basically I write a chapter, check for spelling and grammar mistakes, miss most of them because grammar is my kryptonite, then upload it. I will be editing it a Lot in the future.

anyways.

Setting

The story is set in our universe in The Future. How far in the future? don’t ask because I don’t know. I don’t want a 2001 space odyssey situation. A lot of the technological advancements would take wildly different times to achieve so I don’t want to put a number on it especially because we are very bad at predicting how fast things will advance. It is at Least 150 years I’d say.

Humans have moved on from earth and colonized new planets. They’re still on earth, it’s just that they’re also in other places. Namely Mars and proxima centauri B which has been renamed Salus to keep up with the whole roman god thing (she’s the goddess of safety). Both planets have colonies from multiple different countries. Not all countries, I mean lets be real lichtenstein isn’t colonizing mars anytime soon. The two american colonies on both planets are Lincoln (Mars) and Roosevelt (Salus). The way that people travel between these planets which are v far away is through electromagnetic radiation powered engines and the use of man made wormholes. Let’s ignore relativity and pretend that when you get close to the speed of light your timeline Doesn’t slow down because I don’t want to deal with that.

However, those planets are not where most of the book takes place. The main planet they are on is Nephelai (shocker I know.) It is a planet with a small research colony on it. Before the colony was put in place, it was a barren planet with some water that was in the zone for life, and just didn’t have any. They terraformed the fuck out of it so the atmosphere is the same as earths then installed a Beyersdorf around it. A beyersdorf is basically a time machine. Anything inside it will have it’s timeline sped up. Uses some black hole jiggery pokery I don’t want to explain because it would be... impossible. Anyways, they placed some organic molecules on it and sped it up until life evolved then slowed it back down to normal time to go in and observe. It has tall mountains and a surface that is so hot that water boils. So all of the life lives up in the clouds around the peaks. Most of it is adapted for life in the air. Such as: giant borzois with wings and living blimps that are basically guppies. Its very cold and people have to have specialized gear to go outside.

Plot

I don’t want to go too much into the plot because... thats why you Read books, but I’ll give my best summary. Basically the main character, Nadia, is getting her masters in evolutionary biology and has to do a year long research project. She goes with her professor, Brenley, to Nephelai to do the project. While there, the planet is invaded by uhhhh neo nazis (whoops) and they basically create a hostage situation that is very hard to get out of in order to get the third main, Krupin, a celebrity trash man, to work for them and make some very dangerous biological weapons that his company’s products would be able to produce. Obviously they don’t want this to happen so they have to come up with a plan to escape. However a lot of what happens is more based around the emotional toll it takes to be trapped for so long with no contact to the outside world and the uncertainty of whether they’re gonna make it out or not.

Characters

Alright so now the characters. As I said, this is very much character based. So its more about their interactions than anything else really. Again, lotta dialogue.

Nadia Waters

She is as said before, the main character. A 23 year old dork who is a complete nerd (they all are). She is bi and also a bit of a disaster, naturally. Quite smart but doesn’t think she is, very loyal to the friends she has, and can be a bit shy at first. She is also stupidly brave to the point where its a problem. Her need for adrenaline is Real and she does very stupid things to get it. She describes herself at one point as “just a grad student with a very poor sense of self preservation.” While she doesn’t go looking for fights she will definitely stand up for herself and others and throw down against people who could very easily kill her.

Elias Brenley

Nadia’s professor, also a dork, also a nerd. A lanky french weirdo with an obsession for physics and a love for 80s music. Very spontaneous and doesn’t give a shit about embarrassing himself. He has aspergers and even though he is very smart and can do some savant-like tricks, that isn’t the only aspect of his personality (what a novel idea...) He Also isn’t just a ‘robot’, he cares a lot about others, especially those who don’t mind his quirks. Also I took the expected subplot of ‘male professor gets with female student’ and threw it in the garbage where it belongs cause he’s gay as hell. He and Nadia do become very close but it is 100% platonic

Feliks Krupin

Also a nerd, also gay (seeing a pattern?). He is pretty much a public figure as he owns one of the biggest biotech companies out there, Vozmet. Kinda like if you took elon musk and removed the asshole-ness. Annoyingly perfect in every way, charming, pretty, v smart, all those. Struggles with a good amount of mental stuff that most of the world doesn’t know about and came from a pretty shitty background. Him and Brenley have some History though at the beginning of the story they haven’t seen each other in 9 years. Tends to be noble to a fault and will sacrifice himself for basically anyone.

Some other characters who aren’t the main three:

Kristina: The president of Vozmet to Krupin’s CEO and his best friend. About five foot nothing and has the appropriate amount of concentrated rage. She’s not mean, she just doesn’t let anyone push her around and knows how to get what she wants.

Heidi: One of the only sane ones. Was determined by others to be the leader of the hostages so to speak and has Way too much on her plate. Is often the one voice of sanity or the one to actually get the others to stay on task

James: Drinks that respect women juice all day every day. Very nice. Doesn’t deserve this situation. Has a bit of a thing for Nadia.

Scott: Is the other only sane one along with Heidi. The doctor of the group who almost acts as a father figure to all of them even though he’s not That much older than some of them.

Saoirse: Dumb irish lesbian. ‘Nuff said.

Links

so if you like the sound of any of that you can find it on

fictionpress: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18

or AO3 here

if u took the time to read this massive post, and/or read some, I luv u. *mwah*

#my shtuff #nephelai #big boy post #lorge

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