#tma hits much different as an adult with a job than it did to me as a student

[buonaseranatasha]

The Magnus Archives hits different when you’re in different stages in life. Just had my first day as a teacher. I’m 27 and some of my students are OLDER than me. I lowkey relate more to Jon’s anxiety over his Head Archivist role, and his bitchy attitude that came from it, than I did back when the show started and I was in my first year of college.

Martin’s anxiety is also more relatable now but if my boss sees this I want to clarify that I did NOT lie on my CV to get this position yes I DO have a masters degree I know I’m young please don’t fire me.

[eliasbouchardisarobloxthot]

chapter 1 of an au i am writing

this is jokingly titled “power of friendship au” in my doc, but that’s essentially it - tim, sasha, and jon (for now) team up while they’re all still interns to befriend all of the creatures they meet!  the timeline is obviously a bit different from tma canon, but it will still be mostly non-spoiler. this chapter in particular has only mid-early season one spoilers, so you all should be fine! as usual, under the cut...

"We are not supposed to be doing this," Tim hissed, but he made no move to run.

Jon wasn’t listening. The box of cigarettes in his hand was nearly crushed, but he stood his ground as they made their way to Old Fishmarket Close.

"Do you really think we're gonna—" Sasha's voice wavered. "I mean, the file in Gertrude's office said it’s not—it isn’t always there, right?”

“We’re going to find it,” he said resolutely. The hills were high, higher than any of them had expected, but they managed to make their way up to the alleyway that was listed on the map.

It was dark out. Jon convinced them all earlier that day to come with him and help after they left for the night, and Tim was doing a very bad job of hiding the fact that it made him incredibly nervous to be out this late. The streets were nearly empty—at nine o’clock on a Tuesday evening, no one was going to be out and about.

A quiet voice echoed from in the alleyway—”Can I have a cigarette?”

Sasha screamed. In her haste to wrap herself around Tim for safety, she nearly hit him in the face. Somehow, though, Jon stood his ground.

“You can have a cigarette if you come out of the alleyway. We know what you are. We just want to talk.” He set the pack of cigarettes down just a bit out of reach, then sat down in front of the alley with his legs crossed. “We can wait here all night.”

“Wait, what? Maybe you can, but some of us have work tomorrow. Or have you forgotten about our literal job? The one we met at? Earth to Jon, but we do still have to work. In the twenty minutes it took us to get here, capitalism as an institution has not yet been overthrown.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to concentrate.” Jon sat there staring at the alleyway. “Come out of the alley now, please.”

His stare was incredibly intense, seeming to cut through the darkness obscuring the figure and illuminate the alley. As they sat there in the alley, a voice that was most certainly not the one from before—and was also certainly not human—echoed out from the alley.

“Fine.”

“Come out where I can see you,” Jon said. 

The vaguely human silhouette in the alley warped and twisted, changing from human to inhuman in barely a second. It skulked out of the alley, sitting down across from Jonathan.

He could see how from certain angles it could maybe look sort of human. If it tried. It reminded him of one of those optical illusion sculptures in museums—from one angle, it looked like a giraffe, from the other two elephants. Except from one angle, this thing was human, and from the other… well, most definitely not.

“Do you have a name?” Jon asked. Somewhere, quiet static hummed. 

“No,” it said. “You call me the Anglerfish, though.”

“Do you want a name?”

“Maybe. If you pick a good one.” 

“Louis,” Tim said.

“Felix,” Sasha said at the same time.

“No,” the Anglerfish said, decisively.

“You’re a fish, right? What if we just call you Ariel?” Sasha tilted her head to one side, thinking hard. “You look like an Ariel.”

“Ariel as in The Tempest?” Jon asked, looking confused. “I mean, sure, the water reference is there—”

“Ariel as in The Little Mermaid, you fucking idiot,” Tim said with a sigh that could have shaken the city down. 

“Never seen it.”

“What’s a mermaid?” the Anglerfish asked, testing the word out in its human voice. 

“Oh my god. Firstly, your name is Ariel now.” Tim pointed at the Anglerfish. “Secondly, you get a pass for not knowing because you’re a spooky monster thing. Thirdly, Jon, how have you not seen The Little Mermaid? Did you just straight-up not have a childhood?”

Jon didn’t reply.

“So we’re going to my apartment and renting it off Netflix and—I can’t believe I’m having a slumber party! I’m not a kid anymore… but it’s necessary. Objectively speaking.” Sasha looped her arm through Jon’s, pulling him to his feet. 

“Are we sure this is necessary?”

“Yes,” Sasha said, glaring at Tim. “I think I actually have some microwave popcorn we can make, do a full movie night.” 

Jon sighed, following Sasha as best he could.

“What’s a movie?” Ariel asked quickly. “What are those?”

“You have a lot to learn,” Sasha said, with a wide grin. “But if you like it here and want to talk about it more, then… well, you can just chill with us!”

—

“What did you say your name was again?”

“Patel? Amy Patel?”

“Alright, Amy, and do you think you can tell me some more about how this all happened? I know you gave your statement to Gertrude already, but—”

“Oh, no, it’s no trouble,” Amy said, gesturing into her flat. “I moved, but I still have my address down if you want me to give it to you. And, er, the flat that used to be Graham’s, I can get you that address too if you need it.”

Sasha shook her head. “You don’t have to give us all that. Just by letting us in you’re doing enough already.” 

Amy smiled in that bemused sort of way that older adults tended to smile at younger ones, with a look in her eyes that said something like “who are these little children and why are they trying to be professional around me?” 

“We should—I should have introduced myself.” Jon gestured to Tim and Sasha. “That’s Tim Stoker, this is Sasha James, and I’m Jonathan Sims—we work with the Magnus Institute, under the head archivist. We’re only interns, though.”

“I’d noticed,” she said. “Come on, sit down. I’ll put on some tea if you’d like?”

“Tea would be lovely,” Sasha said before the others could interject. “Now, can you tell us a bit more about your experience with Graham?”

“Oh, well, where to begin,” Amy said, pouring milk into a saucepan on the stove. “I mean, I’ve told you basically everything in my statement already. You contacted me saying there was an update a while back, but honestly I’d almost forgotten about it. The whole thing. It was a few years ago now, so… yeah.”

“Alright. Um. Do you—can you tell us anything about what you do now? Like, the sorts of jobs you’ve been doing, or—”

“Yeah, uh… yeah. Like I said in my statement, I do statistical analysis mostly. Been taking a few more classes sort of in the field of criminal studies—” she waved her hand— “all that sort of stuff. I actually did take a liking to it, might try working with that sort of stuff in the near future. I’m already looking for applications."

"That's very interesting, Amy," Jon said, fidgeting with the packet of cigarettes in his pocket. 

"It really is," she said as she strained the chai, setting four mugs on the table and sitting down next to them. 

Jonathan had taken the box of cigarettes out, and was now shaking them absentmindedly a few centimeters away from his face as he thought.

"Oh, can you not smoke in here?" Amy asked quickly. "It's just—my landlord hates when people smoke inside, we have an area over outside for it—"

"I don't smoke," Jon said, looking somewhat confused. Sasha took the cigarettes from,him and put them in her pocket.

"They're for our friend Ariel, Jon just carries them for it."

"It?" Amy looked more confused than ever.

"She eats them," Tim explained. "And she told us to call her 'she' in front of other people, Sasha."

By this point, Amy had taken a long drink of chai.

"You kids work with monsters. Right? All those things in the statements. Other people have to have given statements, there's got to be some others that are true."

Jon nodded solemnly. "We've been looking into other cases with provable aspects—yours does, by the way, we know yours is at least partially true." 

"How comforting," Amy said with a wry smile.

“And… well, this is going to sound very bad, but I would prefer it if Tim stopped sleeping with people to get information.”

“Hey! That was one time!” 

Amy laughed. “So you’re asking me to help you get information. Right?”

Jon nodded, having started to fidget with the cuffs of his shirt once Sasha had taken away the cigarette box. 

“I mean, I do have access to quite a few databases. If you wanted my help, though, you’ll have to promise something.” It sounded like she was talking to some unruly teenagers. 

“Certainly.” He tried to look as professional as possible.

“Please just take care of yourselves,” Amy said with a sigh. “You guys are just kids and you’re running yourselves into the ground, and you’re putting so much work into this—I’m scared you’re going to either get hurt by one of these things or hurt yourselves trying to befriend them.” 

“I—” Jon tugged at the button on his sleeve for a moment. “I understand where you’re coming from here, I really do, but there’s, there’s just so many and I want to give them a chance. Because we still have to—if there’s any chance they’re a good person, deep down, I want to help them.”

Amy sighed, leaning back in her chair. “If you’re serious about this—”

“We are,” Sasha said quickly. 

“Then I’ll help you.” She picked up a pad of paper sitting on the table and scribbled something on it in smooth, curling handwriting. “That’s my phone number for my work phone, just call it if you need anything. I usually have it on me.”

She thought for a moment. “Give me a sec. You’ll want this.” 

Leaving Jon, Tim, and Martin alone at the table, she walked into her bedroom and returned carrying what appeared to be a very old, very worn-out three-ring notebook. There were dividers of various colors separating things, a bookmark that was just a piece of ribbon stapled into the spine, and a label on the front that read “MONSTERS”. 

Jon flipped through it quickly, looking through the sections. The dividers were labeled with different numbers, and at the front was a table of contents with each number labeled with a small explanation of each different number. 

“This is incredible, Amy,” he said, turning the pages reverently. “There’s so much detail here—this could be more than we have at the Institute, really.”

“Well, I have had a bit of help,” she said amusedly. Opening up the cover, she moved her hand over something inside and set it down on the table. As she did, the inside cover was revealed.

“Is that skin?” Tim asked, looking disgusted. “Ew.”

“What, am I too gross for you?” a voice suddenly said. Sitting on Amy’s sofa was a man who looked to be about Tim’s age, with his hair long and poorly dyed black. All of his joints were tattooed with tiny open eyes, and he wore dark eye makeup in circles around his eyes that trailed down his face. The clothes he wore were ripped and tattered, but it was obvious that they had at one point been a t-shirt for a band, a leather jacket, and a pair of dark jeans. 

He was also hovering several feet in the air.

“Nice to meet you, everyone,” he said with a grin. “I’m Gerard Keay, and I used to work for your boss.” 

Jon stood there open-mouthed for a few moments. “Sorry, what?”

“I used to work for Gertrude. That’s your boss, right? She still there?”

“Yeah, she’s still there. Uh, just—you’re a ghost, aren’t you.” 

“Yep,” he said, leaning back to hover above the couch with his hands behind his head. “They taking the book with them, Amy?”

“I think so. Because, well, they’re—I think they’re more able to investigate these things than I am.”

“Shame,” Gerard said with a sigh, pushing off the wall and sighing. “You were cool. Plus you didn’t mind if I listened to music on your phone while you worked.”

“You can still see me sometimes,” Amy said with a laugh. “Not like I’m dead. And besides, that wouldn’t really be too much of a problem, would it?”

Gerard rolled his eyes. He very pointedly turned away from Amy and looked at the interns, hovering in a cross-legged position in the air. “Well. My life is in your hands now. I mean, not really life exactly, I’m still dead, but my existence is in your hands. Don’t fuck it up.”

“We won’t,” Tim said. 

“Well. This has certainly been informative.” Amy moved closer to the door. “Thank you for giving me Graham’s old notebook, and for a very interesting discussion. I assume I’ll be hearing from you shortly?”

“Yes. I think we’ll start at the beginning? What’s the oldest entry you have in this book?”

“That’d be… the one right at the start of section three for distorted reality. He likes to hang out in graveyards, you’ll probably be able to find him pretty quickly. Blond hair that’s all long and frazzled-looking, tall, kind of thin—if you see him in a reflection or through glass he looks tall, unnaturally tall, and his hands look all gross and creepy.” She shuddered, moving to open the door. “You still have my number?”

“Yep.” Sasha held up the page. 

“It’s really been lovely,” Jon said. “Thank you.” 

“No problem at all,” Amy said. “I’ll see you all soon.”

thats all folks! thank you so much for reading it. i may upload chapter 2 soon, but that is it for now!!