#jonny knew they would be too powerful together

[soupthatwasreheated]

@tmaappreciationweek Day 3 - Favorite Scene

It was so hard to pick a favorite but I love these two so much and them being besties in mag 190 gave me life.

#I wish we got these two hangin out more #true mlm/wlw solidarity #if they were allowed to be in the same room together for more than 5 mins tma would’ve ended by like s3 #jonny knew they would be too powerful together #also I originally had a whole comic planned but I didn’t like it. Maybe someday I will try again #okay ramble over #tma #the magnus archives #magpod #tma fanart #martin blackwood #melanie king #tma season 5 #soup art #tmaappreciationweek #id in alt

[vickozone]

The Magnus Archives

-S5 Notes-

<- previous notes

Handwriting translated below:

#161 old memories, tape that Gertrude should have gave them, Jon says “I love you”, they don’t need to eat to live

#162 Gertrude and Gerry bonding, Tim and Sasha talking about a very relevant subject and Jon and Martin are leaving the safe house.

#163 [VIETNAM FLASHBACKS] [BAGPIPES INTENSIFY]

#164 Gross statement about an infection in a town and Helen talking to Jon and Martin like a proud aunt is beautiful. “I knew you crazy kids would make it work!”

#165 “Ceaseless Watcher, turn your gaze upon this wretched thing.” The Stranger statement. Not!Sasha messed up!!

#166 Martin suddenly is on a murder episode and a dude turned into a worm. Helen says “Slay!”

#167 “Yes, Martin, you are my reason.” Sweet bonding and why Gertrude didn’t have anymore assists.

#168 “I’m not going to kill a man just because you’re jealous!” “Why not?” Oh, Martin. Oliver Banks shall live another day and we are crossing The End domain

#169 Let’s willingly run into a burning building, disregarding your boyfriend and getting revenge together! Jude is now dead and Martin was just struggling in the background. He chose revenge over his boyfriend. Interesting. “We’re burning!”

#170 “I’m Martin Blackwood, and I am not lonely anymore!” “Oh… Hello!”

#171 No way I just spent 23 minutes listening to Jon talk about skin flowers in a botanical garden. “That your boyfriend?” “It is, actually.” “Oh.”

#172 Creepy theatre show that made me genuinely uncomfortable with The Web

#173 Where do you think all of the children went? That’s right! The Dark with Callum! Yay!

#174 Simon calling Jon killing him “rude” is hilarious and immediately dipping is iconic. Weird Vast domain with big explosions. Helen loves some good gossip.

#175 The Extinction items, hate for umbrellas, and Martin’s squelchy couch. We’re going to The Hunt next. Oh no.

#176 Adoptive uncle Trevor and Julia are dead. AWESOME HUNT STATEMENT! And we got Basira! :D

#177 ‘Dr. David’ Jon is so hot. This episode has so many trigger warnings. Helen is so silly. Basira is rad, staying with her boys. Won’t let them have a moment tho

#178 More Flesh. Gross processing line and Jon admits that the thing that traumatized him the most was Daisy going to kill him in the woods. Poor babies.

#179 Daisy is shot and killed. Basira is on her own and I have a reason to give Jon a cane.

#180 I have never felt more serene in my life. I can’t even describe it. I was smiling, giggling, and everything feels okay. Salesa and Annabelle are here and I love Salesa’s voice and HE CAN PLAY THE PIANO! Teaholding fluff, om nom nom, this episode is one of my favorites. The I-Spy game <3

#181 They decide to stay at Upton House for a bit longer before leaving. Jon feels his powers again and forgets the whole experience of ignorance. Pity. Seemed like a nice place. I like Salesa.

#182 Anatomy Class student hospital and Breekon asks Jon to kill him. I feel bad for him. :(

#183 “I’m sure I love you.” “I love you too.” THEY SAID IT!! Helen was concerned for them. She’s like a wine aunt who acts motherly to them. Also, Martin’s domain…

#184 Jon made Jordan an entity. That’s a lotta ants! Jon is just… so complicated.

#185 Ouch. Police brutality and wrongful imprisonment are rough subjects. That guy pleading out to Martin HURT. Martin is… somewhere at the end. Alone again, oh, Jonny, I feel horrible.

#186 Martin went from being a joke in Jon’s anger to being one of the most well-developed characters. He is either going to kill himself of Jon. Martin legit talks to himself. Statement made me cry. This better end with them being happy together.

#187 HELEN! D: Aw, man… I liked her. That poor woman. Calm down, Jon! Helen was their friend till the end. Dang it, that was a nail-biter.

#188 We’re in London now! Eyes, man. They’re everywhere. We grieve for Helen a bit. Did I mention EYES?

#189 MEL AND GEORGIE! OMG! They… made a cult and can hide from The Eye. Great.

#190 Fresh take on modern dating! Antichrist plus one! Archivist mocks poems, beloved pet turned monster, and a blind prophet

#191 Jon sleeps with his eyes open. Georgie wants to avenge her cat (I think I’ve seen this film before), mystery can, and Jon and Martin discuss death. Sobbing atm.

#192 Rosie is literally just going with the flow. It’s weird to see someone else’s perspective on things. Jonah’s incantation is awesome and gosh, I love Martin

#193 Elias 'high as a kite' Bouchard’s origins. Jonah’s distorted voice is hot.

#194 THEY HAD AN ARGUMENT D: After a gruesome metamorphosis statement, Jon tried to find Martin to apologize only to find he was taken to HILL TOP FREAKIN ROAD

#195 Just Basira and Jon, catching up and trudging through water. Omg. The Mr. Spider tape.

#196 Earth shattering rip-in-space time crap. Annabelle is wicked cool. Martin keeps getting sucked into things AND THE TAPES!! ASDFEKGLZMV

#197 MARTIN! ANNABELLE! TAPES! THE LIGHTER! INTER-DIMENSIONAL PIT! WE NEED TO DESTROY JONAH AND THE EYE SIMULTANEOUSLY! LES GO!

#198 If your friends jumped off a cliff, would you too? Ew, bones reforming. Chill ep. Silly.

#199 Group agrees on plan after ten minute discussion. Martin consulting Jon while he cries in his arms HURT!! Also, Mel thanks Jon. This is going to end horribly, isn’t it?

#200 Statement ends.

Crying tally: |||| |||| (I cried ten [10] times listening to this stupid podcast)

#the magnus archives #tma #the magnus institute #tma jon #tma spoilers #tma season 5 #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #tma notes

[fissions-chips]

party favour

(prompt 3: delirium. 'bad karma' au- tw for drugging, disorientation, noncon kissing + touch, and vomiting)

Everything was… too much. Far, far too much.

   With one hand pressed to his aching head, Jon staggered along, struggling not to crash into the darkened figures that suddenly loomed in his vision. Sick, sick sound pulsed through him, shuddering up from the floor, and the moment Jon’s hand hit the wall, he sank against it, pressing his face to it for a moment and praying it would block out some of the light, some of the noise, something.

   What the hell did that prick give me?

   Valentine’s parties were an unusual fare for a man of his standing- for all his riches and all his power, Valentine hated galas, or fundraisers, or any of the other blasé forms of social gathering that CEOs and businessfolk generally had to allow themselves. He had been a rock star first, a man satisfied only with stage lights and the kind of beat that shook your chest with it… and even if he had toned it down, somewhat, to better please all of his guests, the neon lights and low, echoing sound was enough to rock Jon’s frazzled senses. 

   Last time he had been down here, in Silica’s lowest gathering hall, he had… he couldn’t remember, actually. The time before that, he did, because he had gone into that party painfully, painfully sober, with that metal muzzle-mask cutting into him. He’d been kept ‘at heel’ then, humiliated- stuck seated at Valentine’s feet the entire night, held by collar and leash like some stupid animal. The pain had been distracting enough, the mesh leaving dark bruising behind when the other had finally saw fit to loosen it from his face, after everyone had gone home- after everyone had gotten their kicks and taunts in. 

   That had been bad enough- Jon’s reputation had been on the rocks for years now, but his unpredictability had meant he was left well enough alone, back when he was on top. The occasional attempt at assassination, the occasional brawl, expected for one of his position. Now, as a prisoner, he had no such power to hide behind, and Valentine knew it. Everyone knew it. The muzzle had been a mark of that, of his fall from top to bottom- but this? Drugged to high-fucking-hell and tossed out among Valentine’s criminal elite? 

   It was worse. 

   “You’re coming,” Valentine had told him, “-as a party favour.” He had been grinning as he said it, smoke drifting from between his teeth as he shook pills out into his palm. “A cheap piece of entertainment for everyone- don’t look so glum, Jonny. It doesn’t take much to make you look like a joke. Here, be a dear and take these without a fight, would you? I’d hate to get blood on this suit.”

   His enemies wanted to see him hurting and miserable, voice slurring and steps staggered and halting. They thought it was funny. 

   I’m not laughing.

   Staring out into the crowd, Jon tried to catch sight of a familiar fur-collared coat and those damn tinted lenses- Valentine was his tormentor and a sick prick to be stuck with, but he was predictable. A constant. Familiar. With his vision swimming and sight, sound and sense blurring together, it was still a safer bet than the people whom Jon couldn’t recognize, sneering and snickering. Some of these guests, more than likely, had very good reason to see him harmed. Jon had a feeling that Valentine didn’t want him dead yet, and was likely keeping a closer eye on his guests than they realized- but he didn’t want to push it. He couldn’t afford to push it, when all it took was one penknife between his ribs or two hands around his neck, the other a second too slow to intervene. 

   If I did get stabbed, Jon wondered, taking a moment to slump back against the wall and breathe- his chest felt tight. God, he was burning up. Would I go to the hospital? Or to a bodybag in the trash? Valentine may not have wanted his ‘pet’ dead yet… but Jon doubted he was worth the effort to save. The other might even be tempted to throw him out while he was still breathing, left in some cold ditch or alleyway to die. The thought chilled him to the bone, and he tried to force it from his mind- an effort that felt like pushing a boulder uphill. His mind was racing too quickly for him to catch.

   Maybe I’d get a bullet, he thought. He wondered when that had become a hopeful thought, instead of a miserable one- the realization struck him like a fist, and he stumbled, a sudden flood of nausea overwhelming him. One shaking hand pressed to his chest, he lurched away from the wall, swallowing thickly- 

   And tripped over a leg stretched outwards, sent toppling to the floor. 

   “-ATCH IT!”

   Jon groaned, one arm shielding his head as a vicious kick was driven into his lower back, the sound breaking off into a strangled whine. Struggling to lift himself from the floor, he sank back onto his knees, trying to shake the stars from his vision. Laughter rang in his ears, and Jon bit back a curse as he struggled to his feet.

   The one who tripped him flashed him a wicked grin, all bared teeth- panting, Jon’s eyes narrowed. He tried to place his face in his mind, but recognition was beyond him, and the longer he looked, the blurrier his vision became. Scrubbing furiously at his eyes with the back of one hand, he limped onwards. The stumble had brought with it one stroke of luck; he knew one of the voices, nearly lost among the endless, pulsing noise. Strong and musical and mocking- and he staggered towards it, dodging hands as he went. 

   Valentine had thrown himself halfway across a booth, a glass of liquor in one hand, cigarette perched in the other- he took a deep drag of it and breathed pale, sweet smoke, still snickering. The woman he was sitting with, face blurred, nudged him and pointed- Valentine tilted his head and smiled, all teeth. 

   Having fun? He mouthed- or he might have spoken. Jon couldn’t tell. Overwhelmed and sound-sick, he just bowed his head and waited, swaying on his feet. 

   Valentine leaned over to the woman across from him, said something with a sneer- then, a hand closed around his wrist and dragged him into the booth beside the other. Jon found himself crushed to the other man’s chest, Valentine’s arm snaking around his waist and pinning him there. “Too much?” He murmured, breath hot against Jon’s ear. “You don’t look too good.” 

   Fuck you, Jon wanted to snarl. Fuck you and all your stupid shit. 

   That’s what he wanted to say. Instead, he just nodded, relieved to be off of his feet for a moment. Valentine chuckled, taking a puff of smoke before turning his head and jetting it across Jon’s face. Coughing, Jon screwed his eyes shut, turning his face to hide it in the fur of the other man’s coat. There was a rumbling against his cheek as Valentine said something, shifted a little- Jon let out a long, quiet sigh. 

   He could hear the other man’s heartbeat, hidden from the world. It was strong, steady. This used to be comforting. Jon could remember that, at least. Part of him prayed it would be the same now, as much as he loathed the man he was curled up against, and as much as Valentine loathed him. How many bad trips had he spent, just like this? Curled up against the other, waiting until his head cleared and his hands stopped shaking. 

   His chest ached with something a lot like grief. 

   There was a sharp nudge against his shoulder- Jon groaned, turning away. Then, the grip around his body turned bruising, and he forced himself to lift his head, thoughts spinning. 

   “Here.” 

   The rim of a glass was pushed up to his lips, and Jon balked- Valentine’s voice sharpened, insistent. “Drink,” he purred. “You’ll feel better.” 

   A hand closed in his hair, Jon’s head tilted back as Valentine began to drain the liquor in his glass down Jon’s throat. It burned, and, sputtering, the smaller man tried to squirm away, his hands fumbling at the other- his teeth clicked against the glass and Jon began to choke, struggling to breath around the alcohol pouring into his mouth. 

   Thunk. The glass was dropped heavily onto the table, Jon left hacking and coughing against Valentine’s coat- the dark-haired man snickered, muttering something about “holding his liquor” as his hand tightened in Jon’s hair until it hurt. 

   Jon’s stomach roiled, and he closed his eyes, completely overwhelmed. The taste of alcohol was nauseating, burning- his whole body was burning. His skin felt too hot. Heart pounding in his chest, panicked and stuttering, the man suddenly found himself dragged upright as Valentine let out a loud, raucous shout. 

   “Oh, I know this one! C’mon, Jonny!” 

   Senses swimming, Jon suddenly felt that same, sickening pulsing course up his body as he was dragged to the center of the floor, Valentine’s hand locked around his own. Was it the music? Was it his heartbeat? Voices cheered and crowed as Jon staggered with the sudden motion, his knees nearly buckling- before he could fall to the ground, however, he was spun in another direction, Valentine’s voice taking on a mocking note as he hissed into his ear. 

   “Two left feet, Jon? Better keep up~”

   With that, Jon suddenly found himself the unwilling partner in a stumbling, fast-paced waltz- Valentine stepped and spun effortlessly, his smile wide and dazzling as he sang along to the sound. Jon caught bits and pieces, the notes to some some song he couldn’t name- dizzy and overwhelmed by the motion, he struggled to keep up with the other and not collapse entirely. 

   The audience laughed and called, hooting and jeering as their faces blurred around them- Valentine preened under the attention, eyes glittering with cruel amusement as his fingers sank into the small of Jon’s back, digging into almost-healed bruises until the smaller man hissed in pain. 

   It was all too much. Completely disoriented, Jon let his head fall against the other man’s shoulder, humiliated. The cheering and laughter was loud, louder than the music, louder than the blood rushing in his ears- Jon, to his horror, found his eyes beginning to sting, and he pressed his face into the other man’s neck, praying that Valentine took the hint and gave him a moment to breathe. 

   I can’t keep this up. Jon couldn’t get his thoughts in order- he couldn’t focus. Coherence was slipping from him like sand through his fingers, and there was a foul, bitter taste beginning to rise in the back of his throat. 

   “-y, Val- o’er here!”

   A sharp voice called across the room- Jon’s feet dragged along the ground as he was hurriedly pulled along, Valentine shouting something in answer, laughing. Legs shaking, Jon’s fingers dug into the other man’s coat, fumbling blindly as he was suddenly shoved away. 

Come back.

   Jon’s head knocked against the back of another booth as hands suddenly seized him- struggling, Jon was spun to find himself face to face with another man, a plume of smoke meeting him and leaving him doubled over and hacking. 

   “Remember me?” 

   Blinking furiously, Jon shoved at the sudden intruder, teeth snapping at the fingers that grabbed him by the jaw, forcing his head forward. Chest heaving, Jon tried to pinpoint the sleek, pale hair and the flat, dark eyes of the man in front of him in his memory. Trying to sort it out was like walking upstream, unable to get his feet beneath him- Jon scrambled for the only point of recognition he had. Those same grey eyes staring down at him as he sobbed against the floor. 

   Shit.

   “M…Marcus,” Jon slurred. Swallowing thickly, his fingers found the wrist of the hand clutching his jaw and pulled, wincing as the grip only tightened. “You… broke my fingers once.” 

   The man’s brow furrowed in a scowl. “Not a nice way to greet your ex,” he muttered, shaking Jon slightly. “But fair enough.” 

  The next thing Jon knew, he was dragged forward, his lips crashing into the other man’s own. For a moment, he froze, completely stunned- a tongue slipped between his teeth, sour with alcohol, a hand curling around his ribcage and pinning him in place against the other man’s lap.

   Reality crashed into Jon like an electric current- sudden, violent disgust flooded his body, face flushing dark with embarrassment and fury. Jon reeled backwards, hands blindly shoving at the other man, the grip locked around his jaw and the fingers creeping down his hip. Marcus laughed as Jon wrenched his head free, eyes wide with panic. Shit, shit, shit- 

   Marcus’s lip was bleeding. Jon tasted blood in his mouth, mingling with liquor and something bitter and creeping. He still felt too hot. Strong hands seized his wrists and slammed them against his sternum, Jon left wheezing for breath as the other man sneered. He couldn’t breathe. Head spinning and vision darkening at the edges, Jon could just barely make out Marcus’s snarled words as a sudden, plunging feeling dropped into his stomach, roiling.

   “Calm down, you stupid fuck, I’m sure your boyfriend is fi-“

   Jon vomited.

   Immediately, the other man’s voice rose to a shout, Jon flung away as he doubled over violently, retching and coughing. Jon’s knees hit the floor and he toppled, gasping for breath. Heaving himself halfway upright, he tried to wipe the bile from his mouth, his hands shaking- he tried to lurch to his feet, heart rattling. He failed. 

   There was a sudden crash somewhere to his right- Jon turned his head to see the table had been sent tumbling to the ground beside him. He blinked, confused as to how it had gotten there. 

   Movement flickered in the edge of his vision, and Jon turned just as a boot caught him in the nose, his head cracking against the floor and his senses suddenly going black. 

— — —

   When Jon came to, he was on his back. Quiet chatter flickered at the edge of his senses, his ears ringing too sharply to make out anything more than garbled noise. After a moment- it stopped completely- he couldn’t feel any pulsing against his back.

   Did the music stop? 

   Everything hurt. His mouth was dry, tacky with the sour taste of iron and bile- Jon’s eyelids flickered like camera shutters as he slowly brought his hand to his nose. His fingers came away dark with blood. Letting his head fall back against the tile, Jon struggled not to be swept under again, his vision refusing to clear. 

   Something was resting on his chest. His ribs ached.

   After a few more moments, the pressure increased- Jon coughed, struggling for air. Shaking his head slightly, he managed to make it up onto his arms, looking down to find a shoe planted firmly against his chest. Following it up, Jon blinked to find Valentine looking over him, silhouetted by neon, flickering lights. 

   “I…” His mouth opened as if to speak, but Jon found that he couldn’t get the words out. His head felt like it was splitting open- like if he turned just right, he’d slip from his skull completely, like yolk from an egg. 

   Valentine’s eyes were cold. As the ringing slowly faded from his ears, Jon began to make out furious screaming, slowly quieting- Marcus, being steered from the room by two of Silica’s guardsmen. The man was spitting with fury, guests turning to watch him go as he was pushed from the doorway and disappeared down the hall, until the room was silent once more. 

   The man said something, quiet enough that Jon couldn’t make it out- he stared up at the other, still half-stunned. Valentine’s expression was unreadable, his eyes hidden behind his darkened lenses. Someone handed him a bottle from one of the tables- wine. Some kind of wine. 

   Jon swallowed. 

   “Apologies, everyone-“ Valentine suddenly called- all eyes turned to him, the room going still. “It seems my friend here has been having an… unpleasant trip.” 

   Looking down, Valentine’s eyes narrowed as he opened the bottle, tossing the cap away. “Bad taste in your mouth, Jonny?” He murmured- for just a moment, his lip curled in a look of fury. Then, just like that, it was gone, replaced by that flat, shallow smile that Jon knew so well. 

   “Here- something to wash it down with.” 

   Without another word, Valentine proceeded to empty the bottle over Jon’s head- the smaller man flinched, sudden cold spilling down the back of his neck, the front of his shirt. Eyes wide, Jon stared down at the red slowly beginning to bloom down the pale fabric, wine trickling down his face to mix with the blood splattered across his lip. 

   Alcohol. Bile. Blood.

   Shaking the last few drops out from the bottle, Valentine stepped back, looking down at his wine-splattered shoe with a sneer. He let out a disgusted sound, turning on his heel to stalk away, through the crowd. 

   Jon blinked. His hands were shaking- he tried to form some coherent thought. Something to cling to. 

   The wine was cold. His clothes were wet. He reeked of vomit. 

   He still felt hot, he still felt sick, his skin still burned where other’s hands had rested on it- Jon’s chest began to heave. There were too many eyes on him. There were too many eyes on him.

   To his horror, he realized that his cheeks were damp- and it wasn’t with wine.

   Slowly, shaking so hard that his teeth were beginning to chatter, Jon tried to struggle upright. Around him, people moved, stepped away, returning to their conversations. The music began to pound once more- it was louder now. 

   He made it to his feet, legs trembling so badly Jon feared they would fail him completely. Some instinct warned him that if he went down, he wouldn’t make it back up again- something had broken up inside him. Something that wailed and sobbed like a wounded animal. Jon tried to ignore it, tried to ignore the way his thoughts were starting to spiral as his senses did, but he was helpless to stop it. 

   Staggering, half-blind, he was jostled by elbows and shoulders and shoving hands, people startling out of his way with shouts and insults. Someone kicked the back of his leg, and he stumbled. 

   Jon didn’t hit the ground. A strong hand curled around his arm, keeping him on his feet. Jon reached out, fingers tangling into fabric as he tried desperately to orient himself. The room was spinning. He couldn’t get enough air. 

   The grip around his arm was like iron. 

   Looking up, Jon found himself staring at a massive silhouette, the man looking down at him with a bewildered expression. Close-shaven hair and dark eyes, a furrowed brow- something about the face was familiar, in a way that tugged at the back of his mind. 

   I know you.

   It took Jon a moment to realize that he had spoken- some slurred approximation of the words, all jumbled together. Unintelligible. Jon tried to step back, but the hand didn’t let go. 

   He tried again. 

   Stop. Let go. Please, let go. 

   This time, his voice failed him completely. 

   Jon didn’t protest when he was dragged out of the room and down the hall, shoved into a closet. Jon didn’t fight when his hands were roughly bound by the man’s own tie, or when he was pulled out into the cold outside. His feet slipped against the ground- he was tossed over the man’s shoulder and carried, limp and quiet. 

   He was tired. He was so, so tired. All the frantic energy of before had bled out of him, spilling right onto the floor with the wine. His chest was tight and his ribs hurt and his heart was pounding so hard he could barely feel one beat from another. When Jon was shoved into the back of the car, left sprawled across the seats, he did nothing- he didn’t have any fight left to give.

   A small part of him wondered if this man was going to kill him. A small part of him hoped it would be a bullet. 

   And a small part of him listened to the steady rumble of the engine, and ached. Ached with longing to be anywhere else but tied up in the back of a car, waiting for death. Ached to be warm, and dry, instead of shivering and alcohol-soaked, the taste of bile and humiliation still sharp in his mouth.

   Vision darkening, Jon let his thoughts drift- thoughts of himself, somewhere else. Somewhere warm. Someone… taking him home. Himself, sick, and someone else taking him home. Someone who would carry him inside and help him shrug out of his clothes, who’d wash the wine from his hair with gentle fingers and a quiet voice. Someone who’d help him into bed and let him curl up beside them, running a hand through his hair and saying sweet things to him- like in the movies. 

   He could almost picture it. Almost.

   It was a nice dream. 

#(fyi I forgot to mention this: Val’s skyscraper is called ‘Silica’ for right now!) #aka Valentine has a party and Jon has a bad time #i stg these just keep getting long but! i did it! #this one comes across as very quick-paced and a little confusing perhaps but I actually think that adds to the vibes. it fits the point. #- I also wanted to focus a tinyyy bit more on the emotional beats alongside the visceral ones but I don’t know if I succeeded. either way #- this was fun lol. poor jon. i wonder what will happen to him next… #fission’s fics

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Darling, How could you be so blind.

“God, Izzy!” Harry moans into my neck and if you can be dizzy with power I’m spinning like a top. I’ve been perched on his lap grazing my hips against his and kissing his bubblegum lips for ages. His mouth has gone strawberry by now. It matches perfectly with the reddened patches on his neck. I’m punchy with pleasure that somehow I’ve been elected the girl to make him sound like this. Look like this, desperate.

Especially because before this started, I wasn’t in the starting line up, wasn’t even a walk on.

We’d been carousing around his mother’s garden party all afternoon, stealing orphaned glasses of wine. We’ve been red cheeked and merry for long enough that ID grown complacent in his company.

“Fuck, I’m too tipsy to go out now!” He’d dramatically thrown his head back on the pillow of his bed. We’d taken refuge in his bedroom when we realized we’d slunk off with enough wine to be stupid. It had taken him nearly breaking a goblet and me having to cross my legs to stop myself pissing with laughter.

“You’re the biggest clutz, it’s like you’re legs go too far ahead of you all the time.” Id been cackling and Harry had put his hand over my gasped mouth. His face so close eyed me for a moment. It always struck me stupid when he got so close, had since I was thirteen, but by sixteen it was a sickness. I always did my best to ignore it, until I was alone later.

“Shhh! You’re so loud.” He’d said, loudly. “I may be clutsy, but it’s a good job your name is not grace. Nearly pissing yourself, what a lady, pffft!” It would sound Hrsh if his smile wasn’t so wide. “Cmon” hed said. “Let’s go to my bedroom.”

And three minutes into trying to throw popcorn into each other’s mouths and failing terribly, hed started moaning about not being able to go with his other friends.

I never went out with the group. I had my own quieter group of girlfriends, but for reasons I didn’t examine too closely, I’d

Much rather spend all time with Harry.

Bravely I taunt, “you know you’d rather hang out with me!” He nodded and I knew that, but the confirmation made a balloon inflate in the region of my chest. “So, you’re not missing out on anything, yeah?” This time I just put popcorn into his mouth since I’d stayed up and closer while we were talking.

Harry’s plump lips were almost as distracting as his tongue when It slid against my index finger as he took the proffered bite.

“I mean, I’d rather be with you, ya know that, but I am missing out.”

“On Jonny’s stupendous Mario kart skills?” He never persisted this much.

“Well, it’s not just Jonny and Tim.” He was scratching the back of his neck and smirking, though the red in his cheeks indicated he had a little shame left.

“Emma?” He shook his head. Who else had I heard talking about him, or had to avoid talking about Harry to? “Sophie?”

He flashed his eyebrows.

“She just broke up with Jack, you’re already trying to date her?” My stomach was twisting.

“Not so much date her.” He cracked up at my disgusted face. “Oh Cmon lizard-“

“Hate when you call me that!”

“I know.” He reached out to tickle my knee. “But don’t you just ever wanna make out with someone?”

Yeah, you. “I mean, I suppose, but honestly, I’m not sure what all the fuss is about.”

“Then you’re not doing it properly.” He tsked.

“Or they’re not.” I countered. But I’d only done so much kissing, and the idea it was me twisted my face.

“Gonna stick like that!” He flicked my bottom lip and I bit his finger. At that his eyes flashed at me. “Maybe it’s not you then?”

“Come again?” I was honestly lost.

“Judging by that nibble there, you’re probably doing just fine…” he looked at me long enough for my breath to come a bit faster. “Maybe I don’t need to go anywhere..” he trailed off and the question, the proposition hung in the air between our mouths that had not seemed so close together a bit ago.

Objections ran through my mind, but I’d been dreaming about Harry kissing me since long before my actual first kiss. I’m not sure who possessed me at that moment, but I owed her a thank you note. I ducked my chin, and leaned a shade closer to him, “I suppose you don’t have to, no…”

His breath crossed the threshold of my lips before anything else. Id been thinking about how the pink of his mouth would feel against mine for so long, and yet the bee to honey sweet of it still caught my breath.

When I gasped, his tongue made itself welcome too. The kiss didn’t get messy, but it was wet and delicious. Flavored with wine, salt, and the hard back beat of my blood surging through my veins. His lips eased and opened mine like he did this

Professionally and the tip of his tongue was gentlemanly when it snicked across my bottom lip to ask for entry. The manners were left at the door then though. Once our slick muscles folded together, My stomach creased over on itself and my head went light. The slide of him over and against my tongue drew another sound ID never made before and I realized that Harry had been right all along. I didn’t know what I had been missing, and he didn’t need to go anywhere.

But he did, go everywhere for a very long time.

Unfortunately, He was everywhere but here, and I knew what I was missing.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #snap out of it #best friends to lovers #infidelity fic

[liatieska]

Adding on to my last post, here's some sad depressed Argyle:

Here he is. Sitting in his dirty bedroom. Clothes all over the floor, papers and different objects covering every surface available and then some, music tapes in every possible drawer. Just a complete mess. That's usually how it always is, but there's a key problem here:

Argyle isn't high. He hasn't been able to touch the stuff since everything that happened. He's been bone dry sober for over two weeks and it's terrible. His head is filled with burying bodies, super powered children of cursed experiments, and evil creatures under the Earth that want domination.

He didn't understand how Jonathan got through years of this. Course, he did get high quite often when they became friends, but still.

Argyle wasn't sober very often but when he was it made him think, and he wanted to do anything but. He knew he shouldn't, not in this head space, but he opened his dresser drawer and pulled out a metal lunchbox. He opened the container and pulls out a pre-rolled joint.

"Purple Palm Tree Delight." He tries to sound excited but it doesn't ring true. He sits on the floor and lights the joint. Argyle takes a long drag, motions coming natural. It feels nice, body seeming to finally still and his brain quiets.

After a few puffs he relaxes into the side of his bed and humming quietly. It's good, quiet. He stretches his arms over his head as a small smile crosses his face. He can relax.

His heart seems to stop beating as the sound of a helicopter sounds outside. Argyle's breath hitches as he starts to panic. His vision is fuzzy, he's getting dizzy. He didn't even realize he stood up until he had tripped over his own feet and fell against one of his desks.

Something hit the floor and shattered. Argyle didn't know if he screamed or not, it was like he was deaf. His eyesight seemed to be fading, blacking out. He stumbled over to his bedside table and to the phone. Argyle didn't even know who he was dialing.

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

Jonathan was going through his polaroid photos from the last week. He'd gotten back from a visit to Hawkins and taken tons of photos for his corkboard. The phone on his bedside table rang. He jolted and sighed. Jonathan stood from his seat and walked out to the phone.

"Hello?"

"Jon, Jonny, hey man, I, I'm having a really really bad trip right now, I'm scared. Can- can you come over dude? I don't know when I'm gonna come down." Argyle was rambling through the phone.

"Woah, Argyle? I- Yeah, yeah I can come over I'll be over right away. Don't move, okay? I'll be right over."

"Okay. Okay." Jonathan hung up. He grabbed a bag and threw some water and a few snacks inside before heading out the door. Argyle's place wasn't too far, but he ran anyway. At the front door he took out his extra key and went inside.

Walking in he found his way to Argyle's room. When he walked inside his friend was balled up in a small cubby between the wall and a dresser.

"Argyle, Argyle, hey." He spoke softly as he strode closer. The man looked up and weakly smiled.

"Hey, dude."

"Hey. You alright?"

"I don't know man, I thought- I thought it would calm me down but, fuck, then I heard something and I freaked the hell out." Jonathan sat down next to him.

"I don't know how you do it, man. Be so calm and...neutral." He snorted.

"Thats an overstatement. I'm not calm about anything, dude."

"Well, then you're sure good at faking it."

"I guess I am. But, dude, if you're ever freaking out about something you can call me, you know?" Argyle hugged his knees.

"I don't know, Jon. It's just- you went through so much more than I did. I almost feel silly."

"Argyle, no, no. What you've seen is terrible, I wish...I wish you hadn't gotten involved. But that doesn't mean what happened to you doesn't suck. We're all in this together, we're here for eachother. I'm here for you." Jonthan squeezed his shoulder. A smile crossed his face.

"Thanks Jon."

"No problem. Now, want to watch a movie, eat junk, and braid your hair?" Argyle grinned.

"Fuck yeah, man."

#argyle #the party #jonathan byers #comfort #togetherness #lovely

[a-mag-a-day]

MAG 81 - hair dying session

"former Head Archivist at the Magnus Institute" - at this point I was already super excited about how the story will progress now that Jon doesn't work at the Institute anymore. Like this is a serious change of tone!

Did Jon grab that tape recorder next to Leitner's bashed-in head before he legged it?

"Even in the depths of my paranoia, something I now attribute to the presence of… of the being that was posing as Sasha, like a grain of sand behind my eye, rubbing and irritating, but with no clear cause." - I did think Jon was quite irrational in S2 when I first listened. Even with my knowledge of Not!Sasha, but Jon didn't know that. And I didn't know yet that Jon would have powers. But like this it totally makes sense!

"And of course, in my heart, I knew that no-one else could have possibly seen anything as horrible as I had." - That's what I meant in MAG 76 when I said Jon doesn't take people seriously unless they show to have suffered extensive damage. Can anyone put a name to behavior like this? Where it's rooted in?

I don't think we have heard the Web properly called the Web until now, right? (I mean, Jane says, webs have a song as well, but not >the Web< has a song.) Same with the Eye in MAG 80. Did Jon just Know the Smirke'ian names?

While still only in knowledge of this statement there was no way to tell the definite age of Jon. He was 8 and it was in the 90s. To say 1995 is a reasonable middle ground. MAG 161 would be the one to solidify the suspicion of his birth year, because it happened in 2015 and Jon claims to turn 38. If he simply adds 10 years to his actual age, this would make him born in 1987.

Do you think the death of Jon's parents was a coincident or already the Web?

Jon was 4 when his mum died. I still have extensive memories of the time when I was 4. It would have probably been too long to be emotional about it, but there would be enough to puzzle some things together.

"so I ended up living with my grandmother, a kind enough woman, but she had already raised her children, and the resentment she felt at having to raise another was never something she completely managed to hide from me. It seemed to mingle with her grief, so the sadness over her own lost son would manifest in recriminations and bitterness." - I love that Jonny explores all kinds of parent-child-relationships. I'm sick of the constant "I would do everything for my child"-narratives, they're boring!

"I was precocious and impatient, quick to talk back, and even quicker to wander off whenever I grew bored." - I would have expected nothing less from kid!Jon.

Not to be pedant, but it always bothers me that Mrs. Fruit is described as a larger fly than Mr. Bluebottle, because fruitflies are super tiny and bluebottles are actually reasonably big.

When the bully knocks the book out of Jon's hands I started to notice the ambiance track. Has this one been used for any of the S1 and 2 episodes? That particular part of the track makes me think a lot of S3 and 4…

"you know, for the life of me I can’t remember his name. Thomas, maybe? Daniel? I almost want to say Michael, but that isn’t it. He saved my life, and I can’t remember his name. Why does your memory do that to so many important people? Some people deserve to be remembered." - :( Sasha's still is too fresh on his mind…

"A strange conviction that, if I had been able to face that thing myself, maybe I could have saved him. Stopped it." - Marked by survivor's guilt at such a young age. And he will experience it again and again… No wonder why Jon did what he did in MAG 200…

"Ridiculous, of course, I was eight, but it has made me reconsider my attitude to getting help. I have consistently kept the others at arm’s length, tried to deal with things myself and it… it hasn’t gone well." - He KNOWS it's not his fault. But there is something very distinct about knowing something to be logically irrational or baseless and how it makes you feel.

JON "I suppose you are rolling in all that sock money." / "Up to your eyeballs in mattresses." - I didn't listen to The Black Tapes, even though my sister recommended that to me before TMA, so I can't say for sure, but I heard this is a reference to it? I could find out that frequent podcast sponsors "Bombas Socks" and "Casper mattresses" apparently sponsered TBT and this is a dig at those ads? Especially since Georgie runs her own podcast.

GEORGIE "Oh, it’s fine. Though I don’t know what sort of “employment dispute” leaves you without a change of clothes." - She clearly knows there is more going on and that Jon simply isn't ready to talk about it yet. But I guess she doesn't suspect Jon to be a murder suspect xD… You know what would lose you your flat and a lot of your stuff? Asbestos!

Okay, so all in all this is one of my favorite episodes and I remember how absolutely cool I thought it was when I first listened!

There is a case for Jon's parents during the dying because of the Web yeah

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #Mag 81 #lycanlovingvampyre

[cuttoothed]

A grim and cosmic soufflé

In one of the S4 Q&A episodes, Jonny said, of TMA becoming more political/less escapist: 

“The longer you go, the more you are going to find yourself saying something. And the real question is, how long before you try to be more aware of what it is you're saying?” 

I would love to understand what it is he was trying to say with this finale, and whether it’s truly as hopeless a message as it seems to me.

Look, I’ll be honest: I never cared too much what happened to the other worlds in the cosmic trolly problem of the final few episodes. This is fiction, and I chose to invest myself in the characters and world we had for five seasons, rather than worry about other fictional worlds we would never see. I’m also not big on utilitarianism, so the idea of “let’s torture this whole world to death as quickly as possible to spare countless other worlds from lingering harm” didn’t convince me. So I’m not unhappy that the Web got its way, necessarily.

I’m also not against the concept of “everything the characters have done has played into the schemes of an unfathomable intelligence and it turns out there was never any way to win.” That’s good old fashioned cosmic horror, of which I am a big fan.

The issue, for me, began where TMA stopped being primarily escapist cosmic horror, and started leaning into the Fears as a metaphor for real world systems of control and oppression. The analogy has not been even a little bit subtle throughout season five, to the extent that a lot of fandom discussion sees them through that lens first and foremost (“fear capitalism”). We had people trapped in the system and being exploited, avatars complicit in the system out of cruelty or fear of being victimized themselves, Georgie realizing that opting out of the system doesn’t help, etc. etc.

The problem with this weighty analogy, though, is that it demands a subversion of the system, a glimmer of hope for the oppressed, or else it becomes unbearably bleak.

Compare with Jonny Sims’ book ‘Thirteen Storeys’, which is even more blunt with its analogies than TMA is. It’s a fun read, with the protagonists of each chapter victimized by and/or complicit in oppressive systems to varying extents, and it ends (SPOILERS FOR THIRTEEN STOREYS) with these people banding together to fight back against the embodiment-of-capitalism antagonist in an incredibly unsubtle but wonderfully cathartic “Eat The Rich” scene. They don’t smash the system, they still live in an unjust, oppressive world, and in the end we’re left with a picture of wounded, traumatized survivors. But their victory over a symbol of oppression is meaningful and frees them in both a literal and metaphorical sense.

By contrast, in TMA the ending tells us that the system always wins. Everything the characters do plays into the Web’s plan. Jon finds a way to destroy the system from the inside (leveraging his power to kill the world), but his act of rebellion is meaningless, because the system knew what you were going to do, silly, and it is already leveraging your emotional connection to the person you love most to keep you in line. 

Yes, the TMA world is saved, the Fears pack up their factory farms and move on, but that only happened because the Web wanted it to. Because giving up your foothold in one world for access to possibly infinite others is just good, capitalist business sense. The characters never get a meaningful victory, or even the hope that the system has some vulnerability. They just get lucky.

The only catharsis Jon gets after a lifetime of being used by the system is killing Jonah. Which is satisfying on a completely different axis (an abused person getting to strike back at their abuser) but doesn’t impact the Web’s plans or give him any agency against the system that used him.

With the “fear capitalism” metaphor so strongly to the forefront by season five, what originally could have been a spine-shivering revelation that a vast, cosmic intelligence has outplayed the characters at every turn, and the survivors are fortunate that it has turned its attention elsewhere, instead becomes a fable about how it’s impossible to make even the slightest dent in an oppressive system, and how every choice you make, regardless of how well-intentioned, makes you complicit in your own oppression. That, to me, is unfathomably bleak. A grim soufflé indeed.

#the magnus archives #tma spoilers #tma 200 #tma negative #tma meta #tma

[alexandenigtscreations]

Have a sketch prompt you’d like to see? Send me an Ask!

Anon sketch prompt -> here,  asked about TMA endgame speculations.  And, ho boy, I do have a lot of them.  Though I think I managed to get the core theories down.  

Going to break this into three broad categories: Together, Apart and Fade Away.

Together:

There are a couple of ways that these two could remain together.  1) they can’t turn the world back and just have to deal with permanent Eyepocolypse.  This would mean that Gertrude was right on the tape, that a change of this magnitude can’t be undone.  I don’t think this is likely because Jonah was the one that sent the tapes to Jon.  He’s going to try and play as many mind games as he can to keep the watcher’s crown in his place.  A way out of that would be to make a new ritual to remake the world as best they could (if Jonny wants to give his characters a way out at all).  They could also flat out end the world and everyone’s suffering.  After all, it is a tragedy.  

 2) Martin does what Peter Lucas tried to set him up for in the first place and Kills Jonah’s body, taking his place.  (I’m personally obsessed with this idea).  I think it is likely that Jonah chose Martin to be the replacement for Elias’s body (being that he targeted people with few attachments and were underestimated).  Until Lucas took an interest in Martin that is.  Martin probably is holding a lot of blame for the eyepocolypse too, being that he could have Killed Jonah right then and there and stopped any of this from happening.  There is probably a lot of fear that Lucas was probably being serious with having Martin stop Beholding’s ritual.  Or, we could, potentially, lose Martin as we know him.  That would definitely screw Jon up pretty bad.  Or Martin might be equal in power to Jon.  Do think it’s likely that Martin will surprise us again.   

3) Twisted: where their trials become to much.  They break under the horror of it all and give in to the fear and power.  Martin may take Jonah’s spot with a bit of friendly murder and they take up residence in the Watcher’s tower.  Maybe Martin refuses to let go of Jon; holding on to the promise of not letting bad things happen to him.  Don’t think it’s likely given Jon’s stubbornness and Martin’s steadfastness, but it’s fun :D  

I can see them going into more grey moral areas though, and it will be really interesting to see how they deal.  

Apart: 

Even as an avatar, Jon had been able to go through Helen’s doors.  Now?  He’s far more powerful than a mear avatar.  The old world may not be able to handle someone like Jon.  If they manage to create a new pocket dimension to force the fears into, Jon might be dragged along with them. Martin being unable to stop any of it.  

This could also be separated by death.  Most likely Jon’s.  (In one of the Q&A sessions, Jonny mentioned that things would be “especially bad for Martin”)  This makes me believe that he will live on after the season 5 finale.  Also, the death of the narrator would make for a defined end.

Fade Away:

Following the trail of fear crumbs, I believe that this is the most likely of outcomes.  It would give Martin time to say goodbye to Jon.  It would give them a respite, and a few more tender moments before Jon collapses in on himself.  Jon has mentioned before that he doesn’t want to be a forgotten mystery (I believe this was in the Library of Alexandria episode), but after everything said and done, maybe being a mystery isn’t so bad when compared to an Apocalypse.   I’m imagining two types of fade-away scenarios.  

1) Relating to Mikaele Salesa’s safe house.  Jon just crumbles both mentally and physically in the normal world.  Leaving Martin as a caretaker until Jon dies.  I HATE this one.  Give me blood, murder, bloody worms, but don’t let Jon forget Martin.  Damn it!  This may occur if Jon does something like blind himself and cut off all connection from Beholding.  “Could you even survive at this point?” Martin had asked in season 4, and Jon didn’t have an answer.  

2) John Amherst withering away to nothing.  If Jon is to fade away, I really hope that it’s like season 4 and it’s mostly his body.  John Amherst when entombed in the concrete slab by Gertrude’s assistant, was implied to have died over a period of years after being cut off from frears.  I’m hypothesizing that if they end the eyepocolypse, that they wouldn’t be able to fully extract the fears from the world.  It would be as before, the fears praying on the most vulnerable.  Jon, who was the most powerful being in the eyepocalypse and had been force fed the fears of the Entire World, is probably unable to go back to statements and snaring victims.  (though it would be low key hilarious if the whole world just had nightmares about our archivist and he was actually healthy for the first time since joining the Magnus institute).  He’s not fully cut off, so he gets to keep his mind, but his body deteriorates. 

We might hear Jon’s last moments caught on the tape recorder, ending the final episode.  And I don’t know what to do with that, the final “Statement Ends”

Other Things I have no Idea what to do with:

The Web:  What do they want?  Do they really prefer the world as it was?  Do they want it back? Or do they like things as they are now? Annabelle seems to have no trouble pulling strings from Mikaele salesa’s place, so that may mean that the camera doesn’t work on all the fears.  I mean, Annabelle is being kept alive by bloody spiders and has been living there just fine, even able to dispatch of creatures of the corruption that wander into the bubble.  She’s been there the whole time!  And she’s fine!

I think that the web did want the eyepocolypse to happen though.  Just that manipulators don’t like to get their hands dirty if they can get someone else to do it for them.  

Helen: Love, love, love Helen; but don’t trust her.  I understand attaching yourself to the most powerful being in the hellscape, but, she is a being of lies and deception.  What is her long game?  Does she even think in those terms? 

Mikaele Salesa’s Camera: Either it, or something like it will come back again.  Jon and Beholding have their own kryptonite guys!  Also, he was wandering through the hellscape, looking for a pad to crash in.  The hellscape turned back into the world as we knew it when he passed seeming to indicate that it’s still there, under the fear. 

Georgie and Melony: Being that Georgie can’t feel fear and Melony ex-communicated herself from the damn eye, pretty damn sure they made their own little safety pocket.  What that looks like, and what impact it will have on Jon is unknown.

Basira:  Could still try to kill Jon.  The world ended, so what the hell right? 

Chrysalis: The hell is Jon’s chrysalis?  The hell does that mean?  Is this physical?  Metaphorical?  or Both?

Tape Recorders: Given that these bad boys were able to work in the Mikaele Selesa’s safe house, just want to know what their story is and where the tapes go when they finish recording.  Can’t really picture Jon or Martin carrying around a cassette collection in the eyepocolypse.  

Marked: So, Daisy was able to hurt Jon because of the strength of the mark she made before the eyepocolypse, makes me wonder what other avatars that marked our archivist could do to Jon.  

Statement Ends

#tma #the magnus archives #jon sims #Jonathan Sims #the archivist #Martin Blackwood #JonMartin #evil #corrupted #ask #pen and ink #digital overlay #My head is so full guys #tragedy #horror #theory #end game thoughts #spoilers #tma spoilers #season 5 #whump #watcher's crown #good cows #AlexandeNight #My art #traditional art #etc #magic #gathering consern #the magnus archives is a tragedy

[dixie12]

so @tarcanza showed me this pic, which i had somehow never seen before. and then i spent the next 12 hours obsessing over it. i have no idea of the context, but really, who needs context when you have fic!

a frat au featuring drunk jonny, beleaguered pat, and devious sharpy

pat walked into the Sig Ep house just after midnight, and was immediately surrounded by a thrum of bodies and the pulsing beat of music. he'd spent the last week pretty much living in the library, holed up in a study room working on his engineering midterm, and he'd finally submitted it, a whole three minutes before the deadline. the walk back to the house was nearly deserted, everyone on campus several hours into partying by now, and the noise as he walked in the front door was a shock.

before he could even take his coat off, sharpy saw him just inside the entryway. it was like the guy had a tracker on him, jeez. pat gave him a tired smile, wondering how quickly he could get away from sharpy and up to his room. after the last week, he just wanted to collapse in bed and not move for at least 12 hours. preferably with jonny there with him. he scanned the room quickly, looking for jonny, as sharpy half-jogged over to him and threw an arm over his shoulders. 

"peeks!" he yelled in patrick's ear. pat cringed at the alcohol on his breath. he must have pre-gamed for a while before the party tonight. "peeks!" he repeated. "you have to see this!" he said excitedly, dragging pat by the arm he had over his shoulders. it was easier to just go with sharpy rather than fight about it, so he trailed along willingly, catching sight of a few of their brothers and a lot of drunk guests along the way. they walked through the kitchen and into the living room, where the first thing patrick saw was

"who the fuck gave jonny tequila?" he demanded. jonny handled most alcohol like a pro- could shotgun beers all night, take jello shots, straight vodka, most mixed drinks, whatever. but tequila. tequila always fucked him up. and seeing as jonny was currently surveying the room from atop the coffee table, shirt half-unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up, cheeks flushed and grinning as he swayed to the music alone, beer lifted like he was toasting the room at large, yea. someone had given him tequila. 

pat poked an accusing finger into sharpy's chest. "was this your doing, sharp? you know tequila messes him up." sharpy raised his hands, pulling a 'who me??' face that might have worked on every single one of their professors, but patrick had known him way too long. 

"look, all i did was make a round of margaritas, and then when he said he didn’t want one, told him that was a good idea, since only real men can handle tequila.“ sharpy was laughing now. “before i knew it, he’d snaked the bottle from me! your boy has catlike reflexes, man. by the time i got it back, he’d taken a few shots right from the bottle.” pat glared at him. “oh come on, at least he's having fun! he's been a total debbie downer all week." pat couldn't really argue with that- he'd barely left the library recently; he didn't think he and jonny had even shared a meal this week. 

“patrick!” jonny yelled, catching sight of him from atop the table, face lighting up. it looked like he was going to jump down, and the last thing they needed was their hockey captain breaking an ankle on an ill-advised leap. pat held up his hands and pushed through the crowd, arriving just in time to break jonny’s fall as he stumbled on the landing. “patrick,” he said again, quieter, into pat’s hair. he pulled back, and the look of pure delight on jonny’s face made pat glow. “i missed you,” jonny said, nuzzling pat’s hair before kissing his temple, holding him close. “you get your project done?”

“yea, finally,” pat replied, swaying gently to the music as jonny held onto him.

“good,” jonny murmured. “that’s good.” they stayed like that for a few moments, and pat could almost forget the party going on around them until someone bumped into them, pressing jonny harder into him. that seemed to shake jonny out of the quiet mood he’d fallen into, like it surged the tequila through his veins again. “we should dance!” jonny said excitedly, and oh wow, he was wasted. jonny never wanted to dance. pat usually had to resort to all kinds of dirty bribery and blackmail to get jonny to join him for a few songs. if jonny actually wanted to get out there tonight, pat’s dreams of collapsing in bed could definitely wait. 

pat grabbed the beer can from jonny’s hand. It was almost full, like jonny had picked it up and then forgotten to drink it. pat brought it to his own mouth, chugging it and letting the alcohol warm up from the inside, loosen him up a little. 

he let jonny drag him out into the crowd, and he settled in behind jonny, grinding up a little against his perfect ass. he’d gotten maybe three hours of sleep a night for the last several nights, but he’d always have the energy for this. he had his hands on jonny’s hips, and jonny arched back into him, neck beautifully long, and pat leaned forward to nip at it, going up on his tiptoes to lay a few kisses over the gorgeous length of it, biting just a little. he heard jonny groan, watched his head drop down, rhythm faltering for a second. 

he leaned up again, letting his hands wander over jonny’s chest, feeling the solid muscle of it under the damp skin. he skimmed his fingers over jonny’s nipples, just to hear him gasp, feel him grind back harder into pat. 

“fuuuck, pat,” jonny moaned. “missed you so much this week,” and pat was surprised by that. even tequila-drunk-jonny didn’t usually get emotional like that, much more likely to be happy and handsy. not that he wasn’t handsy now. he interlaced his hand with one of pat’s, bringing it up to his mouth and sucking on one of pat’s fingers, swirling his tongue around like he was sucking pat’s cock, instead. through his exhaustion, pat felt his dick twitch in interest. maybe he could convince jonny they’d danced enough, drag him up to their room.

he grabbed jonny’s hip, turning him around to face pat. he was planning to whisper in jonny’s ear, something dirty to get him out of the crowd and upstairs, but jonny pushed up on him as soon as he was turned, grabbing his ass and pulling him close, and oh. if pat’s dick was starting to take interest, jonny’s was definitely already there, thick and hard, grinding insistently into his thigh that jonny had worked between his legs. fuck that felt good.

pat closed his eyes, getting lost in the feeling for a few minutes. jonny was hot all against him, hips working, small groans dropping from his lips, and pat could hear him start to pant. he drew back to look at him, and jonny was dazed, eyes hazy and heavy-lidded. jesus, pat recognized that look. jonny was close, from just some grinding, surrounded by a crowd of drunk frat guys.

“hey, hey,” he said, stepping back and putting some distance between them. 

“what?” jonny mumbled, hips thrusting against nothing a few times before he realized pat wasn’t there anymore. he dragged his eyes fully open, looking down at pat in confusion. he looked so fucking good like this, flush high on his cheeks, corded forearms exposed where he’d rolled up his sleeves, jeans tented around his obvious hard-on, breathing hard. 

“hey, let’s get up upstairs,” pat suggested, taking jonny’s hand and meaning to pull him towards the staircase, but jonny resisted. 

“fuck, pat, so close baby. please,” he said, words coming out in breathy little moans. pat’s self-control was seriously frayed, and he struggled not to give in. until jonny leaned down, getting pat’s earlobe between his teeth, tugging gently. “please,” he whispered, right into pat’s ear, and fuck if that didn’t get him every time. pat shivered, willpower giving up the fight for the night.

“ok, ok, but not here, come on,” he said, pulling jonny out the door towards the patio. the november air was crisp, the patio empty as they walked out, but pat pushed jonny up against the brick wall in the shadows anyway. no use risking exposure that they didn’t absolutely have to. given the look of desperation on jonny’s face, pat was pretty sure he would have been perfectly happy just rubbing off on pat. the beat of the music was still loud and obvious outside, and jonny leaned in like he was going to do just that.

pat pushed him back against the wall, though, and dropped to his knees. the ground was hard, but he didn’t think this was going to take long at all. he opened the button on jonny’s jeans, slid the zipper down as jonny cursed above him. he worked the jeans as far down jonny’s thick thighs as he could, then slid his boxers down too. and yea, jonny’s cock was blood-hot, foreskin already drawn back, precome slicking down his shaft, balls drawn up tight. this wasn’t going to take long at all.

pat took him in his mouth, enjoying the sharp taste of the precome. it had been too long since they’d done this, school and hockey taking up most of their time. jonny reached a hand down into pat’s curls, but pat pulled off.

“palms on the wall, JT,” he said with a smirk, reverting back to jonny’s freshman year pledge nickname. jonny moaned again at the instruction. he might be bigger and stronger than pat, something that he never let pat forget when they were working out together, but he fucking loved it when pat bossed him around, and tonight was no different. “you’re gonna take what i give you, jonny, and you’re gonna like it.”

“fuck, fuck, pat. yea. whatever you want,” he said, words sliding together in a hurried slur. 

“good boy,” pat answered, and got to work. 

it was only a few minutes later that jonny was coming hard down pat’s throat. pat stood up, wincing as he brushed the dirt off his jeans, and they leaned into each other, jonny coming down from what felt like a powerful orgasm, and pat enjoying jonny’s bulk around him.

“was worried about you, man,” jonny whispered, breaking the silence between them. “you were killing yourself on that project. wanted to make you feel good when you got back, but fuck, you just looked so good, finally home with me, i couldn’t resist.”

the gentle smile on jonny’s face was everything pat could have asked for.

“you always make me feel good, baby.”

#ficlet #blackhawks fic #1988 #frat au #drunk jonny loves pat so much #let's blame sharpy for this

[eldritchteaparty]

Obligatory MAG 200 post

So... I’m posting this as a form of therapy (no really, writing actually legitimately encouraged by my therapist to deal with my obsessive tendencies... originally wrote “haha” here, but is it really?). Mostly I am sad and I need to get my tears out and move on with my life ASAP because I am an Adult with a Job :) I do not insist that anything in here is correct or the only way to view things. No bad feelings about anyone feeling differently. I know people are finding little bits of happiness in it, and I hope everyone keeps finding them!!

I am so torn up by the ending. I have no interest in giving a meta opinion on it as a piece of fiction or to comment on author choices etc. I have tons of respect for authors and Jonny Sims specifically (despite offering to pay him $20 to save the boys, which he clearly rejected), and that’s not my place. This post is really just about how, to me, this was just about the most tragic ending we could have had. But here’s what I see--and it’s jonmartin heavy because, well, I’M jonmartin heavy.

First, big picture speaking, the way I interpret the statement is that the fears WERE, in fact, born in the Magnus world, and not only was Jon directly manipulated by both the eye and the web, but the eye was manipulated by the web as well--and the big plan all along was to allow the fears to spread so that BIGGEST WEB EVER. That’s the context for the rest of this.

I am devastated that Jon made the decision he did for a number of reasons, but let’s start with this: technically, I give him the benefit of the ethical dilemma, especially given the statement. It’s like quarantining someone who’s already sick so it doesn’t spread. It’s awful to see, but I get it. However, it hurts terribly that he asked everyone to discuss it and everyone had the impression they were deciding together. Maybe he didn’t know what he was going to do and the discussion was what gave him that final push. Either way, ethically correct or not, I’m sad that I think his decision was more out of overwhelming guilt than anything else. Plus, I mean... eye influence against the backdrop of web influence, and the envy he felt when seeing Jonah in the tower for the first time. There’s going to be forever doubt over how much this even WAS Jon’s decision, which again... devastated. *pause for laughter* [casually references MAG 172]

Now--let’s get into Martin. He showed up in the nick of too late to get what he wanted, which was for Jon to be safe. Yes, I know he’s gone on about saving the world, but really he made it clear multiple times that what he really cared about was saving Jon, right or wrong. Here are the points that I find SO horrendous:

From Martin’s perspective, Jon broke his promise because he sacrificed himself (yes, I could argue that Jon really did believe this was the only correct decision, but this is about what Martin felt)

From Jon’s perspective, Martin broke his promise because he didn’t let him go (yes, I could argue that Martin didn’t technically stop Jon and simply insisted on being there with him, but this is about what Jon felt)

Martin knew Jon lied to him about his intent, and I wasn’t ready for the lie or for the fact that Martin knew it

“You swore to me, you bastard!” and the absolute terror/panic/sadness of Martin finding his worst nightmare in that room that just did not end before their tape did

Martin doesn’t know how much of Jon is left, and Jon doesn’t know how much of Jon is left either, and Martin could be in here in love with someone who doesn’t really exist anymore

Jon didn’t realize he had given Georgie the lighter and had no idea it was even possible to stop him; the web won and maybe was always going to win and Jon maybe never had any agency at all and that is gut wrenching

Jon still maybe would have been powerful enough to trap the fears in the world even with the explosion, but despite insisting that Martin let him go he was never prepared to do the reverse... “Where you go I go” sure was a thing

Martin had to do the one thing he said he wouldn’t, and at least go through the actions of killing Jon believing it really might (I was really hoping we didn’t hit this one but there it was) ... and he did it in hopes of saving Jon and Jon allowed it in hopes of saving Martin

“I’m sure I love you” came back but it was like staring at a negative of Mag 183

Take this kiss back, I don’t want it (unpopular opinion, I know, and I can only keyboard mash about why I feel this way instead of using my words so I won’t try)

Given all of that, let’s talk about their ultimate fate. I believe the fact that no bodies were found is really encouraging us toward the interpretation that they are somewhere else, and together. Ignoring the obviously horrible option that they are somewhere dying together/one watching the other die, let’s say they survived and they remember everything. I believe wherever they are, the fears are there. They are clearly hopelessly tied together by love, which (and I realize this is debatable) backfired big time as they are now living with the perception of broken promises, and knowing that love drove them each to do the one thing they wanted the least (Jon letting the fears spread, Martin killing Jon), and that they will do it all over again if it comes to it.

I can’t decide if I want to run away forever or start churning out fix-it fics, but either way... if anyone’s reading, it’s been good to vomit this out. If no one’s reading, it’s still been good to vomit this out.

#the magnus archives #tma #magnus pod #jonmartin #tma spoilers #mag 200

[brotheralyosha]

John le Carré, who forged thrillers from equal parts of adventure, moral courage and literary flair, has died aged 89.

Le Carré explored the gap between the west’s high-flown rhetoric of freedom and the gritty reality of defending it, in novels such as The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy and The Night Manager, which gained him critical acclaim and made him a bestseller around the world.

On Sunday, his family confirmed he had died of pneumonia at the Royal Cornwall Hospital on Saturday night. “We all deeply grieve his passing,” they wrote in a statement.

His longtime agent Jonny Geller described him as “an undisputed giant of English literature. He defined the cold war era and fearlessly spoke truth to power in the decades that followed … I have lost a mentor, an inspiration and most importantly, a friend. We will not see his like again.”

His peers lined up to pay tribute. Stephen King wrote: “This terrible year has claimed a literary giant and a humanitarian spirit.” Robert Harris said the news had left him “very distressed… one of the great postwar British novelists, and an unforgettable, unique character.” Adrian McKinty described Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy as “quite simply the greatest spy novel ever written”, while bestselling crime author Richard Osman called him “the finest, wisest storyteller we had. What an extraordinary career.”

Born as David Cornwell in 1931, Le Carré began working for the secret services while studying German in Switzerland at the end of the 1940s. After teaching at Eton he joined the British Foreign Service as an intelligence officer, recruiting, running and looking after spies behind the Iron Curtain from a back office at the MI5 building on London’s Curzon Street. Inspired by his MI5 colleague, the novelist John Bingham, he began publishing thrillers under the pseudonym of John le Carré – despite his publisher’s advice that he opt for two Anglo-Saxon monosyllables such as “Chunk-Smith”.

A spy modelled on Bingham, who was “breathtakingly ordinary … short, fat, and of a quiet disposition”, outwits an East German agent in Le Carré’s 1961 debut, Call for the Dead, the first appearance of his most enduring character, George Smiley. A second novel, 1962’s A Murder of Quality, saw Smiley investigating a killing at a public school and was reviewed positively. (“Very complex, superior whodunnit,” was the Observer’s conclusion.) But a year later, when his third thriller was published, Le Carré’s career surged to a whole new level.

Smiley is only a minor figure in The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, but this story of a mission to confront East German intelligence is filled with his world-weary cynicism. According to Alec Leamas, the fiftysomething agent who is sent to East Berlin, spies are just “a squalid procession of vain fools, traitors, too, yes; pansies, sadists and drunkards, people who play cowboys and Indians to brighten their rotten lives”. Graham Greene hailed it as “the best spy story I have ever read.”

According to Le Carré, the novel’s runaway success left him at first astonished and then conflicted. His manuscript had been approved by the secret service because it was “sheer fiction from start to finish”, he explained in 2013, and so couldn’t possibly represent a breach in security. “This was not, however, the view taken by the world’s press, which with one voice decided that the book was not merely authentic but some kind of revelatory Message From The Other Side, leaving me with nothing to do but sit tight and watch, in a kind of frozen awe, as it climbed the bestseller list and stuck there, while pundit after pundit heralded it as the real thing.”

Smiley moved centre stage in three novels Le Carré published in the 1970s, charting the contest between the portly British agent and his Soviet nemesis, Karla. In Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy, he unmasks a mole in the highest echelons of the British secret service, while in The Honourable Schoolboy he goes after a money laundering operation in Asia, before piecing together Karla’s Swiss connections in Smiley’s People. The world of “ferrets” and “lamplighters”, “wranglers” and “pavement artists” was so convincingly drawn that his former colleagues at MI5 and MI6 began to adopt Le Carré’s invented jargon as their own.

As the cold war came to a close, friends would stop him in the street and ask: “Whatever are you going to write now?” But Le Carré’s concerns were always broader than the confrontation between east and west, and he had little patience for the idea that the fall of the Berlin Wall signalled any kind of end either for history or the espionage that greased its mechanisms. He tackled the arms trade in 1993 with The Night Manager, big pharma in 2001 with The Constant Gardener and the war on terror in 2004 with Absolute Friends.

Meanwhile, a steady stream of his creations made their way from page to screen. Actors including Richard Burton, Alec Guinness, Ralph Fiennes and Gary Oldman relished the subtleties of his characterisation even as audiences applauded the deftness of his plotting.

Le Carré returned to Smiley for the last time in 2017, closing the circle of his career in A Legacy of Spies, which revisits the botched operation at the heart of the novel that made his name. Writing in the Guardian, John Banville hailed his ingenuity and skill, declaring that “not since The Spy has Le Carré exercised his gift as a storyteller so powerfully and to such thrilling effect”.

After decades of being painted as a shadowy, mysterious figure, mainly for his uninterest in publicity or joining the festival circuit, Le Carré surprised the world in 2016 by releasing a memoir, The Pigeon Tunnel. Detailing his fractured relationship with an abusive, conman father and a lonely upbringing after his mother abandoned him aged five, Le Carré detailed the strange life of a spy-turned-author, being asked to lunches by Margaret Thatcher and Rupert Murdoch. Having spent four decades living in Cornwall, married twice and raising a son, Nicholas, who would write novels himself under the name Nick Harkaway, Le Carré conceeded: “I have been neither a model husband nor a model father, and am not interested in appearing that way.”

The consistent love of his life was writing, “scribbling away like a man in hiding at a poky desk”.

“Out of the secret world I once knew I have tried to make a theatre for the larger worlds we inhabit,” he wrote. “First comes the imagining, then the search for reality. Then back to the imagining, and to the desk where I’m sitting now.”

#I'm just crushed #discovering his work has brought me so much joy in this shitty year #I'm so grateful to him for that #john le carre #may his memory be a blessing #long post

[sesquipedalian-aficionado]

Ok so. I have a thought on the Magnus Archives.

I think Jon is going to go through the rift with the fears, or (possibly worse) PART of him will.

Reasons:

The ending of the Magnus Archives seems (from my perspective) to be slanting in a meta direction. The whole “let’s send the fears into other dimensions”? While WE listen (and shudder) to a podcast spreading that fear?? Other people have made this meta concept already, and better than I could do it here.

Jon doesn’t want to leave all the universes receiving the fears to just deal with the same things their universe has been through. His main argument was ‘someday someone is going to do what I did and the apocalypse will happen again’. This is the main reason (I think) why he’s uncomfortable with the plan as it stands. He is clearly willing to sacrifice himself so the apocalypse doesn’t happen again somewhere else.

Jonny Sims, bless his heart, named his main character after himself. This means that all OUR information on the TMA universe is coming from ‘a’ Jon Sims, if not ‘the’ Jon Sims. This could be relevant if they are going in a meta direction.

Based on these points above, I was expecting someone in episode 199 to come to the conclusion ‘let’s send a warning along with the fears, so each universe will get them but also our story, so they can prepare and understand and be better off than us’. I was expecting that to be the bow on everything: we got the fears but Jon also sent through some form of warning through the Jon Sims of the multiverse, so we could be better off than he was. This warning turned into TMA, bing bang boom, nice wrap-up of everything.

But they didn’t. No one got to that suggestion, which means that if I’m picking up correctly on the groundwork that the TMA team has been laying so far, and it’s heading in that direction, then this is going to be either an accident or (again, worse:) a last-minute decision. My next points:

Annabelle said “Jon will lose [...] the parts of him that are The Eye.” Well that’s...concerningly vague. What, of his fear experiences and observations, ISN’T the Eye at this point?? He’s been giving all of those memories and experiences to the Eye since before he even knew that’s what he was doing. More recently, he’s been using his Eye powers to even get those statements in the first place.

Also!! Annabelle talked extensively about how they used his voice, his statements, everything the tape recorders got, to pull open the rift and set this whole thing up! Will all those recordings get sucked in, too? What would that do to Jon?

Annabelle said that Jon post-fears would be alive still, though I believe her exact words were “he will remain as he believes himself to be” which is about as ominous as it gets. Jon’s not coming out of this the same person as he is in ep 199. Some part of him is going out with the fears, but how much of him will they take? He’s given so much of himself to the Eye (coerced, via statements) and the Web (unintentional, via recorders), not to mention the other fears and his experiences with them. What of him, really, is left untouched by that? How deep is that connection?

And finally, my wrap-up point:

The Magnus Archives is a Tragedy.

I’m not sure exactly what that means to Jonny and the TMA team, but here’s the thing: this outcome has a TON of potential for Maximum Pain. This provides chances for the following (the following points are not quite evidence of my theory, but merely predictions on what they could do with this path)

Jon, deciding that he can’t live with himself without at least warning the other universes about the fears, decides at the last minute to throw himself into the mix. (Worst case scenario: he does this in front of a Martin unable to stop him due to preoccupation or incapacitation.)

Jon’s knowledge of the fears, his experiences with them, his own fear? All sucked through the rift. This could be EXTREMELY painful in combination with that thing Martin said in 199 about how they wouldn’t have ever found each other and fallen in love without the Fears and the Archives. Y’all remember Jon at Salesa’s? Not remembering things? Not knowing things? Confusion? Hey guys. Hey guys. What if he forgets everything he went through. He wouldn’t remember caring about Martin. They wouldn’t fit together any more but also - there would be a somewhat detraumatized, living (kind of?) Jon! Happy ending right? Except clearly not? Sounds tragic huh

Alternatively, Jon just dives right in. He’s not a fear, so he gets fractured throughout the multiverse. Each iteration holds just enough memory to write stories and warn their worlds about the fears, without knowing the truth of it or what he left behind. Meanwhile........Martin is left alone in their world. Thanks, I Hate It

Anyway that’s all the big evidence I could think of but here’s a couple points to add on:

Meta Bonus Points: this would be a fantastic, dare I say, web of interconnected hints about meta and touching universes and the origins of the TMA podcast within its own universe.

Jon gave Georgie the lighter. JON GAVE GEORGIE THE LIGHTER. This means that, if he did decide to do this, the Web (who admittedly is pretty against Potential Victims Knowing About Them) might not be able to see or stop him from doing it.

Jon had a goodbye with both Basira and Georgie. This doesn’t bode well for his chances. He didn’t have one with Melanie, but did we really expect one? Their exchange was fitting for both of them. (Or, if you disagree, maybe she’ll say goodbye at the beginning of the next ep).

#my credentials for this? I’m minorly obsessed with stories and I’m good at picking up narrative patterns and predictions #if I’m totally wrong I’m sure the TMA team will make an amazing ending in a different direction #but my STARS this would be exquisite angst and a fantastic plot tie-up to boot #anyway only one week left and I’m terrified #quip has things to say #tma annabelle #the magnus archives podcast #tma jon #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #jonny sims #TMA #tma predictions #tma theory #tma finale #long post #fan theory

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part 19: Hands Off

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

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

Word count: 2587

TW for self harm

"So you're tellin' me absolutely nothin' is goin' on between you two?" Between sessions, Harley had come to visit Elianna in her office for a chat. "Aren't you still staying at his place?" It seemed that the blonde still had yet to give up on the idea of El and Jonathan together; the only difference now was that she had ended up being right (a fact that the redhead had made sure to remind him of as they laid in bed catching their breath the day before. He hadn't found it quite as funny as she did).

"Yeah—wait, how did you know that?"

"I was pullin' into the parking lot behind you guys this mornin'."

"Uh-huh, we drove separately, stalker." El quirked an eyebrow with an expectant smile.

"Right, so you just happened to arrive at the same time? Just 'cause you didn't take the same car doesn't you're not comin' from the same place."

"Alright, alright," El laughed. "He's got some errands to run after work, so I promised to make dinner."

"Aww," Harley exaggerated the syllable, knowing it would get under her friend's skin.

"Oh, cut it out." El rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I already told you, nothing is going on." The blonde just laughed in response. "Hey, how's your big case coming along?"

As Harley enthusiastically began to tell whatever she could about her sessions with the self-named Poison Ivy, El used the distraction as an opportunity to recall the day before smugly to herself.

Already, the recent change in their relationships had its ups and downs. On the one hand, it almost seemed like a dam had burst; their dynamic flowed more smoothly, and for her part, she felt as though a weight had lifted from her shoulders. On the other, when he had told her that morning that he had to oversee the handling of that night's delivery personally (since Batman had effectively put Falcone out of commission), her usual worry for his safety had doubled.

Something that Elianna and Jonathan had in common was a lack of experience with real relationships. As such, they shared a sense of profound importance in regards to the new arrangement. It would take some work to balance the now heightened concern they held for each other.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was in his office trying in vain to occupy his mind by shuffling through the stack of administrative paperwork that the warden's office couldn't be bothered to sort through before sending it to him. Between the unexpected hitch in the master plan and trying as hard as he could to not think about El (on that count, Scarecrow was actively working against), he was struggling to make it through even the very basics of his job.

At that moment, for example, he was grappling with his schedule for the day. Falcone had been taken to Blackgate and apparently had been asking to see him for a few days. Jonathan had been putting off visiting the mobster since he had found out; he had been caught by a civilian in a cape and a mask; what could he possibly have to discuss with such a disappointment to the underworld? Today, however, he had received word that the older man had cut his wrists, and the administration at Blackgate had sent for him specifically.

As if that weren't enough, he had already had to clear his schedule for that night to oversee the shipment, given that Falcone was now indisposed.

There was no getting around it, though, he supposed, and found himself back in the car en route to Blackgate. However, the drive wasn't nearly long enough for Jonathan to quell his frustration in Falcone's incompetence, and before too long was meeting with the mobster's caseworker.

"Doctor Crane, thanks for coming." There was a thinly disguised urgency in her voice as she greeted him.

"Not at all," he replied, barely remembering to keep his tone patient. "He cut his wrists?" How irritating it was to fake concern.

"Probably looking for the insanity plea," well, at least the woman was pragmatic, "but if anything should happen..."

"Of course, better safe than sorry." He nodded as they approached the door to the private room that Falcone had been brought to. With that, the caseworker unlocked the door to let Jonathan in and let the door swing closed behind him.

Falcone didn't skip a beat. "Hey, Doctor Crane, I can't take it anymore. It's all too much; the walls are closing in, blah blah blah," the old man rambled dryly. "Couple more days of this food, it'll be true." Jonathan found himself steeling himself against the urge to let Scarecrow come out as he settled into his chair.

"What do you want?"

"I want to know how you're gonna convince me to keep my mouth shut." The ego of a powerful man is truly something indigestible, isn't it?

"About what? You don't know anything about the operation."

"Maybe not specifics, sure, but I know you don't want the cops to take a closer look at the drugs they seized. I know about your experiments with the inmates of your nuthouse." Jonathan listened and watched as patiently as he could as the tiresome man continued to talk. "See, I don't go into business with a guy without finding out his dirty secrets." At this point, Scarecrow was banging against the proverbial walls of their brain, desperate to retaliate. "Those goons you used. I own the muscle in this town. Now I've been bringing your stuff in for months. So whatever he's planning, it's big. And I want in."

Can you believe the balls on this guy? Let me out, Jonny.

Not yet; he still doesn't have a leg to stand on.

"Well, I already know what he'll say. That we should kill you." Just because we haven't yet doesn't mean that we won't, old man.

"Even he can't get me in here. Not in my town." Jonathan was growing tired of this conversation very quickly.

"Your town." The psychiatrist repeated, not a question—a mockery. The older man's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"Oh, did I forget to ask? How rude of me, I forgot the most important part. How is your little lady friend from the asylum?" here the mobster leaned in threateningly, "Does she know what you're doing? What's gonna happen to her once you go down, I wonder. Maybe I'll send some people to make sure she's not alone, huh?"

Now that caught Jonathan's attention. The rest of Falcone's little threats were easily avoided; even he didn't have the power to endanger Ra's Al Gul's plans. He did, however, have the power to have unspeakable things done to Elianna. That would not stand.

Jonathan made his decision from there quickly. Scarecrow was overjoyed that El had been brought into the discussion, knowing that Jon would have to take it seriously, and was raring to be in control.

Jonathan sighed and removed his glasses, hearing the straw man begin to cheer in the back of his mind. "Would you like to see my mask?" He asked, opened his briefcase without waiting for an answer, popped open the false bottom, and reached for the mask, ignoring the several full syringes waiting to be used. He had added a new rig to the case, and it was as good a time as any to test it out. "I use it in my experiments. Now, I'm probably not very threatening to a guy like you," he continued, holding up the mask for emphasis, "but these crazies? They can't stand it."

With that, he made to put the mask on and let Scarecrow take over.

He could barely hear Falcone's quip about the nut taking over the nuthouse over the ever surreal feeling of taking the backseat in his own brain.

Once his face was secured, Scarecrow took great pleasure in pressing the button to release the cloud of toxin. The screams of terror began almost instantaneously, much to his delight, and he rose from his chair to loom over the mafioso.

"They scream, and they cry," he teased with menacing glee. "Much as you're doing now." Jonathan allowed Scarecrow a few more seconds of enjoyment before regaining control. They still had to leave undetected, and Scarecrow couldn't be trusted to be professional. As much as Jonathan enjoyed hearing the man who had dared to threaten El scream, he was more trustworthy when it came to subterfuge.

"Well, he's not faking," Jonathan cleared his throat as he reentered the hallway, greeted by the caseworker's concerned face. "Not that one." He was still a bit flustered by the rush of inflicting such horror upon someone. Move on, Jonathan, act normal. It was a bit of a blur after that, promising to talk to the judge and get Falcone transferred to Arkham before making his way back to the Asylum himself. He still had a few patients to see before he could punch out to oversee the shipment that evening.

However, once the rush wore off, Jonathan found his mind wandering back to what Falcone had said about El. Who knew what he could have told his people already? He stopped by El's office before returning to his own and was surprised to find her no longer there. A quick phone call to the secretary at the front desk told him that she had already left for the day—another phone call to find that her cell phone was dead.

Shit.

Jonathan forced himself back to the matter at hand, telling himself that she was fine, but the lingering worry stayed in the back of his mind.

For about an hour and a half at least, when he decided that he was done with work for the day. The sooner he could take care of business, the sooner he could rush home to make sure she was there.

In the car on his way to the meeting site, Jonathan tried calling her again to no avail.

I really need to get a home phone for the apartment; he cursed to himself.

He found himself unable to focus on the task at hand as he parked his car and got into the one being driven by the goons provided by Falcone. Any of them could have received orders at any point to take El, hurt her, anything. He had no way of knowing if instructions had already been given or what liberties were allowed should anything happen to her.

Behind his impassive expression, Jonathan was operating almost solely on autopilot, getting out of the car and entering the old apartment that served as a drop point. This one had already been used twice before, and given how close the end date was, he had already decided to eradicate any and all evidence once the job was done.

He looked disinterestedly over the pile of stuffed bunnies, appraising the shipment's size, doing quick calculations in his head to the best of his ability. After concluding that it was, in fact, the correct amount, he gestured to the goons to retrieve the substance from inside of the toys. "Get rid of all traces."

Jonathan couldn't help the disgusted look around the dilapidated apartment. He couldn't think of anywhere he wanted to be less at that moment. Distracted by the sheer quantity of distasteful thoughts swirling in his mind, he was almost startled when Scarecrow spoke suddenly.

There's someone else here.

That statement froze all other concerns as he tuned in to his environment. He barely registered one of the thugs telling the others to torch the apartment as he noticed a prickling on the back of his neck, as well as the open window.

Jonathan remained calm and in control as the other men began to douse the furniture in gasoline while he moved to examine the window.

Are you sure?

Before the straw man could answer, the sound of shattering glass from the other room stole Jonathan's attention from the window.

Yes, came the smug response. Wasting no more time, Jonathan let the other goon move to investigate and instead moved into the shadows to retrieve his mask.

You're up again, Scarecrow. Do it fast; we have to get home.

Yeah, yeah, you've been annoying me for hours; she's fine. Would you shut up about it? Retaliated Scarecrow as he forced Jonathan out of the driver's seat and took over, relishing in the drama of wearing his face again.

That moment didn't last for very long before his suspicions were confirmed, and the Batman himself burst into the room, swiftly incapacitating the leftover thug. Luckily, Scarecrow's reflexes were just as fast, and he released a cloud of toxin from their sleeve rig, which hit the caped crusader squarely in the face.

The effects were almost instantaneous, judging by the wide eyes behind the cowl and the erratic, flailing movements. Scarecrow stifled a laugh as the armored man toppled backward away from him.

"Take a seat," he taunted, thoroughly enjoying his playtime, "have a drink." Here he seized a bottle of vodka abandoned by his now useless goons. The staw man snarled mentally, understanding Jonathan's intolerance of incompetence. They would be eradicated along with the evidence of their crimes. Splashing the booze on the caped man in delight, he continued to tease him.

"You look like a man who takes himself too seriously." Scarecrow abandoned the now empty bottle and replaced it in his hand with a zippo lighter that El had left in their pocket.

Wait, she loves that thing-

We'll buy her a new one, pipe down.

He had corraled Batman in front of the window and sparked the lighter, extending it in front of him menacingly. "Do you want my opinion? You need to lighten up." With that, he tossed the lighter, which ignited the caped crusader and the old rug in seconds.

This allowed them a swift escape, as Batman threw himself out the window and plummeted with the rain onto the pavement several stories below. Wasting no time, Scarecrow had them outside and in the getaway car. Luckily, there was a spare key in the visor, and they sped down the street in the direction of where they had left their car.

Slow down! We're attracting attention; we don't need that.

You're the one who's been bitching about getting home for the past few hours.

Not letting up for a second, Scarecrow turned a fifteen-minute drive back to Jonathan's car into a five-minute one before finally retreating to his place in the back of their mind. Of course, on principle, Jonathan was still irritated with Scarecrow for behaving so recklessly, then leaving him to deal with any potential consequences. Still, he was glad for the saved time.

By this point, Jonathan was so frenzied with panic about El's wellbeing that he couldn't even think about their own run-in with the Batman. Still ten minutes away from home, he tried to call her cell once again. Still no answer.

Why the fuck won't she pick up?

Scarecrow didn't respond, finally picking up just how agitated the whole situation had made his counterpart. Best not to rile him up further.

Jonathan nudged the car faster. Only a few minutes away, but it felt like forever. He was so frantic to get home and see Elianna safe that he couldn't even think of what he would do if she weren't. No game plan, not even a shadow of one because she's okay. Or so he kept telling himself.

#the mind's power over the body #Attraction To The Insane #series #Jonathan Crane #scarecrow #Nolanverse #batman begins #Elianna Montgomery #jonathan crane x ofc #jonathan crane fanfic #multi chapter fic #slight au #cillian murphy scarecrow #cillian murphy #tmpotb chapter 19

[residentsocialfailure]

Thoughts on MAG 190

because I have many, and I’m so excited this show is finally back. 

God, hearing that intro again. Gives me chills. I missed this.

Lowri! Helen! For some reason I was thinking they might have only been a part of the trailer, without actually being major characters. I’m so happy I was wrong. Fucking love them. Helen has always been, and always will be, my favorite Rusty Quiller.

“They sometimes go to a side tunnel, for.. private contemplation.” 2 minutes in, and Jonny reveals that wtgfs like to sneak off to go make out. I love it.

First tape recorder appearance. Oh shit. Interesting that they eye doesn’t work super well in the tunnels, yet it still appears. Hmmm.

“First name terms with The Prophets. Bit disrespectful.” Oh, I missed his sass. Jon is so good. 

Hiding out in Leitner’s old haunt. Interesting. I wonder if there are any of his books still lying around, and if the fearpocalypse has affected them at all.

“Celia?” Martin recognizes her? Is she the same girl Lowri played in MAG 100?

Oh, I missed Melanie so much. She’s so good, and her disdain for Jon is wonderful. God, I hope nothing bad happens to her.

Helen is Melanie’s therapist! That’s amazing. I love it.

I don’t know why Georgie trying repeatedly to destroy the never-ending tape recorders is so funny to me, but it is. 

I’m so glad they’re getting to talk. I missed Georgie, and her not really being there for Jon in S4 always made me kind of sad. I mean, it was totally understandable. and she had to do what was best for her too, but still. I’m glad that she’s acknowledging it though, and saying that she wasn’t really being fair to Jon, and didn’t understand what was really going on. I just love all of these people so much. I feel like this exchange is probably really important for Jon too.   

An endless supermarket? That’s super convenient. Just trying to figure out how that would work as a fearscape. Husbands who were sent to the store by their wives and can’t remember what to get? Broke college students who are trying to put together a meal with no money? Feeling judged for your purchases, thinking the employees are watching you and know that you don’t know how to cook. Or something. Or maybe it’s for the retail workers. Feeling like your boss is constantly watching you, waiting for you to make a mistake. Yeah, that makes more sense. Probably some of all of the above.

The Admiral!!! I kind of love/hate that he’s just chilling, going hunting 24/7. Like I’m glad he’s happy. But it’s so sad that he doesn’t recognize Georgie. That must be really difficult. I wonder what specifically he’s hunting. Other cats? Mice? Birds? People who are afraid of cats? 

“The Snoop God’s favorite kid” 

“Now my therapist thinks I’m the chosen one.” All jokes aside (because it did make me laugh) that must be a super weird dynamic, for both of them. Like, hey, you know everything about me, and how completely flawed I am. You helped me get through some very dark periods, and now I’m apparently the savior of your world or something. And thinking your “prophet” is somebody who you saw in such a way, has to be wild. I’m interested to see if they’re going to delve more into this relationship, because it could be really interesting.

I also really, really, love that Martin and Melanie are able to have this time to just talk. They’ve both gone through so much. And yeah, they were never super close in the before-times. But they still understand each other, in a way I think not a lot of people could, who haven’t worked in the Archives. And they’re just hanging out, chatting about their love lives. It’s so wholesome and good.

“I’m the anti-christ’s plus one.”  Oh my goodness Martin. This made me laugh so hard. I feel like that’s going to be A Thing in the fandom.

How weird must that be though, to have people look up to you like that? I can’t blame her at all for lying about the vision. She’s just trying to give them hope, and something bright to look forward to. But it’s also really hard. Because it is a lie, and does put her on a pedestal. It’s a really difficult situation, and there’s not really any good answers on how to handle that. But I can’t imagine the stress that must put on you. Feeling so responsible for these people, who have nothing, and who’s lives you literally saved. And who look up to you like you can solve all your problems, when you have no idea what you’re doing. It must be so hard.

That being said, the cringe I just experienced from “Blind Prophet”. Just. So much no. 

I love hearing Melanie talk about Georgie though. She’s so in love and it’s so sweet. 

Oh no. Daisy. And the pain is back. The whiplash I’m going through in this conversation. And Spiral Helen. I’m glad that Jonny put that in there though. Helen was just such a good, good, character.. In that her whole point was making you think she was on your side. And she did that to the point that a lot of people, including me, actually started to think maybe she was. This was a good reminder that no. She really was evil, she was just also really good at manipulation. It’s easy to forget sometimes, and to think maybe she didn’t deserve to die, and they could’ve saved her. But it wouldn’t have worked out, Jon knew what he was doing.

Cold baked beans. Delicious. I guess they can’t really make a fire in the tunnels. And obviously no electricity. Seems quite unpleasant though.

”Even if her problems were sometimes... odd.” I don’t remember, did we ever get context for how much she actually told her? 

”But you’ve got to have hope in something. Otherwise there’s no point to anything. So, I choose to have hope in them. [...] Times like these, it just helps to believe. I’m not sure it really matters what.” 

Anil!! I love him so much. I do wish we got some Arun/Martin bonding time though. I need them to talk about their favorite poets and discuss interpretations of various poems or something. I don’t know, I’m not really a big poetry person, but they both are, and I think they would get along pretty well, if Martin isn’t too put off by the religious part.

He also did sort of bring up a point I had been thinking about. And definitely not thinking this is in any way foreshadowing of anything, or that this is at all something that will come up. It’s just my own personal thoughts. “Maybe your powers feed on hope. On faith, and trust, and hope.” I feel like everything in the universe has an opposite, to a certain extent. And I feel like it makes sense that the fears would have an opposite as well. That there would be some sort of powers of hope or something. Not even necessarily in a good vs evil sort of way, because I feel like that’s an over simplification, and not at all really realistic.Nothing in real life is that black and white. But the fears came to exist because they were something people believed in. Not in like a faith way. But just in a way that it’s something that people thought and focused on enough to give it power. And I feel like that would work for hopes and dreams too. It only makes sense to me that if fearing something so much gives it power to turn into an actual, god-like, entity. Well, people dream about things just as much as they fear other things. I don’t know. I feel like someone smarter and better with words than I am could explain my thought process better. Just an idea that I had, that, as I said, I do not believe will at all come up, or exists at all in this universe. It’s not even really a headcanon. Just thoughts.

Final Thoughts:

This episode was so good? It was much more light-hearted than I was expecting, but in a really good way. I loved just hearing everybody reconnect, and have actual conversations with their friends. I forgot how much I missed these people, and how good everyone is. 10/10, absolutely loved. I’m exited to see what comes next, if a bit nervous. Obviously this was a good episode to ease back in, but the pain will be coming pretty soon. I am curious, there are apparently seven members of the cult, and we only met three, not including wtgfs, so five. I wonder if we’ll recognize the other two, or if they’re just not that important. Also wondering what the plan is for Jon, as he still doesn’t really know what to do. Is he just going to hang out for a bit? Have a chance to relax, like they did at Salesa’s? Wondering if they’re going to leave of their own volition, and decide it’s time to get a move on, or if something will happen to force them out. It’s clearly more dangerous for the cult now that Jon is there, and, ascaves much as Georgie cares about him, I don’t think she’ll let them stay if she thinks they’re an active danger. Anyways, I’m so, so excited that TMA is back, and I can’t wait to hear what comes next. 

#tma spoilers #the magnus archives spoilers #rusty quill spoilers #the magnus archives #tma #mag 190 #scavengers

[ivy-alexandria-lovebot]

Here is the piece I wrote for @mechanismszine! Just a little ivy/raph/marius for the soul.

Memories 

 Ivy Alexandria woke covered in sweat and took a moment to get her heavy breathing under control before sitting up. She looked around the room, noticing that she was in a prison cell with two other people. Ivy’s eyes landed on the woman with wings sleeping next to her and she started to go through what she was slowly remembering about her.  Raphaella LaCognizi, science officer, Mechanism: her wings.

Ivy went through her memories of this woman, the first time they met, Raphaella doing some morally questionable science experiments, the two of them stargazing together on some planet whose name had long since been forgotten, the time Raphaella had “accidentally” killed Marius in the process of trying to figure out if octokittens liked to eat human flesh. Ivy knew that she had a connection to this woman, but she couldn't figure out what it was. 

Ivy looked at the man sleeping on her other side. He looked calm and peaceful. Ivy tried to remember who he was. Marius von Raum, doctor, Mechanism: his right arm. She remembered him trying, and failing, to convince her he was actually a doctor, him helping her organize the archives a few times, and the two of them feeding the octokittens together.

Next, she started to remember the events leading to her ending up in this prison cell. She could remember their arrest in perfect detail, down to the exact temperature it had been that day. She remembered the very tired looking transport police officer who’d tried to interrogate them a couple of times before disappearing. Ivy estimated there was an 80% chance he’d left because of how annoying Marius was.

Ivy didn’t have an emotional reaction to anything she remembered, save for a little amusement at Marius’s antics along with a surge of love for him.

That’s right! She loved him, and she loved Raphaella too! Ivy felt happy to have realized that. She re-remembered it every morning, and every time it made her just as happy. She started to remember more about her time with Marius and Raphaella–how they’d helped each other through their imprisonment, how they'd made each other laugh, and how they held each other when they cried. Ivy smiled at these memories as well as the knowledge that she had these two people with her right now.

The longer Ivy was awake, the more her memories came back. She remembered her time with the rest of the crew of the Aurora. She remembered cooking dinner with Brian, sitting with Ashes as they took inventory of the supplies on board, helping Tim figure out how to work a weird gun he’d found on one of the planets they’d visited, explaining to Jonny that as first mate of a pirate ship he had virtually no power, sitting with Nastya as she worked on fixing The Aurora, and laughing as an octokitten tried to eat The Toy Solider’s nose. Ivy missed them a lot now that she remembered them. But the 40 years she'd been in this prison cell was a very small amount of time in the grand scale of her very long life.

“Ivy?” a voice spoke from beside her. She turned to see Raphaella’s beautiful face staring up at her. “Good morning love,” she said, sitting up and giving Ivy a quick kiss.

“Good morning.” Ivy smiled at her girlfriend.

“Are you okay? You seem like something’s on your mind,” Raphaella said, giving Ivy’s hand a quick squeeze.

“I’ve just been remembering everything and I’m starting to miss everyone else. I don’t feel anything for them but I know when I was around them I loved them all.”

Raphaella pulled herself into a more comfortable position sitting in front of Ivy and grabbed both her hands.

“I don’t really understand how you’re feeling but I know missing people. I miss the rest of the crew too. Well, maybe not Tim, he blows stuff up a lot.”

“You do too,” Ivy interjected.

“Fair enough,” Raphaella laughed. “But I do miss the rest of the crew. We can bust out of here if you want-”

Ivy shook her head.

“Okay, that’s a relief, we still have an album to work on. What can I do to help you?” Raphaella put one of her wings around Ivy and looked into her eyes.

“I don’t know,” Ivy sighed.

“That’s okay. Can I give you a hug?” Ivy nodded and Raphaella wrapped her arms and wings around her. Ivy leaned into the hug and buried her head in the crook of Raphaella’s neck. They held each other like that for a while, comforted by each other’s company.

Ivy pulled away first.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Of course! Anything else I can do for you?” Ivy shrugged. “Do you think a distraction would be helpful?” Ivy nodded. “Alright, let me think of something we can do that won’t cause too much chaos.”

“Chaos?” Marius yawned and opened his eyes. “I can help you cause chaos.” He sat up in bed and turned to look at Ivy and Raphaella.

“I was thinking a nice breakfast together would be a good distraction without too much chaos but with Marius there, things could definitely get out of hand.”

“Hey!” Marius threw his pillow at Raphaella. She yelped and ducked out of the way. “I mean, you’re right but still,” Marius said, pouting a little.

“How does breakfast sound to you?” Raphaella said, turning to address Ivy.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

“Can I come? I want breakfast too,” Marius said.

“As long as you promise not to cause too much chaos,” Raphaella said.

“There’s only a 10% chance he won’t cause chaos,” Ivy said.

“Oh, Ivy I’m hurt!” Marius said, feigning insult. Raphaella and Ivy laughed.

“I was just stating the facts, you can still come,” Ivy said, still laughing. She gave Marius a quick kiss and then hopped out of bed.

“I hope getting out of here won’t be too hard,” Marius said, as he and Raphaella followed Ivy out of bed and started getting ready for a prison break.

***

The three immortals had a relatively easy time breaking out of prison, they could have done it at any time, but they had been busy observing the events taking place in the Yggdrasil system. Now that they had a reason to get out, they had a fun time doing it.

Ivy broke the lock on their cell; it was very simple compared to some of the others she’d broken, and the group entered the hallway. Marius quickly incapacitated the nearby guards,  stole their guns, and distributed them between himself, Raphaella, and Ivy and the group set off down the hallway.

The rest of their escape went off with very few complications. Ivy handled the security system and Marius and Raphaella handled the guards. A couple of times Ivy had to help them get past the guards. The first time she killed one was horrible. Blood splattered everywhere and Ivy started to feel sick. That feeling was quickly followed by distrust and fear of herself and a lot of guilt. She stopped in the hallway in the middle of the fight and took a bullet to the knee, but she barely registered it, caught up in the horrible feelings coursing through her.

“Ivy!” Raphaella called out to her. Ivy didn’t respond.

“It’s okay Raph, I’ve got this, keep fighting!” Marius said as he jogged over to Ivy.

“Ivy, look at me.” Marius stood in front of her, grasping her hands. Ivy looked up at him, tears flowing down her face. “Ivy, it’s okay. I know how you’re feeling. I used to feel the same way when I killed someone. But Ivy, you've got to remember, you won’t feel this way tomorrow, you can kill millions of people today but tomorrow you will forget the weight of their souls.”

Ivy wiped her eyes and took a few deep breaths.

“You’re right, thanks,” she said to Mauris before kissing him on the cheek and pulling out her gun. She still felt bad, but it was incredibly easy to ignore that feeling once she knew it would be gone come the next morning.

After an amount of murder that would terrify normal people but was pretty typical for the crew of The Aurora, Ivy, Marius, and Raphaella broke out jail and set off to find breakfast.

“Marius, do you know where you’re going?” Raphaella asked as Marius turned down a street she was pretty sure they’d been down before.

“Of course!”

Ivy sighed. “We’ve been down this street three times already. Can I just navigate?”

Raphealla nodded in agreement with Ivy.

“Just because I don’t have a brain like Ivy’s doesn’t mean I can’t navigate to breakfast,” Marius said.

“It’s not about my brain, I have a map.”

“Oh. ”

“Though my brain is very impressive,” Ivy said, grinning.

Marius looked disappointed.

“We still love you even if you can’t navigate well,” Raphaella said, giving him a friendly shove.

“I know, I just wanted to contribute to Ivy feeling better in some way,” he replied.

“Oh, I’m sorry Marius. You can navigate if you want,” Ivy said, realizing he was feeling sad and offered him the map. “Though you still helped me feel better, just by being you.” She walked over to him and hugged him. He hugged her back.

Raphealla walked over and joined the hug, enveloping both of them in her wings. They stayed like that for a while, until Marius mumbled something about being hungry and they set off to the restaurant, this time following the map.

***

Breakfast was a very pleasant affair. The three immortals found themselves at an adorable little restaurant serving classic New Midgardian breakfast food. Ivy, Marius, and Raphaella stuffed themselves on food, talked about their past adventures, and reviled in each other’s company.

Ivy felt herself relaxing after a very stressful morning. She was still missing the rest of the crew of The Aurora, but she was excited about the progress she and her partners were making on the new album they were writing. She was still feeling guilt and anger about the people she had killed getting out of the prison, but with her lovers and friends by her side, she knew she could get through the rest of the day and be okay until she could get rid of those feelings.

Ivy Alexandria looked around the table at Marius, handsome Marius, currently antagonizing Raphaella by refusing to think planets were round. She looked at Raphaella, beautiful Raphaella, her wings vibrating with annoyance at Marius, but still enjoying the debate. She looked at her lovers and smiled, she was safe, happy, and surrounded by people who cared for her. And even though she knew she'd have to relearn those facts the next morning, she felt content with being in the present with her lovers.

#the mechanisms #ivy alexandria #raphaella la cognizi #marius von raum #ivy/raph/marius #my writing

[that-soft-earth]

I’m up to MAG102 in my relisten, part way through Season 3, after Jon has been kidnapped by Nikola and found out a lot of stuff about the Unknowing. He knows that all the Entities have a ritual, and since Gertrude was trying to destroy the Archives, that’s probably the location of the Eye’s ritual. And he knows that he and his assistants are in a double bind, where helping Elias means helping the Eye, but resisting him, whether moving against him or simply by refusing to work, only leads to him making them suffer and bringing them back in line. They really have no way out. Here is one potential play Jon could make, though it’s massively risky and likely to fail, but it’s just a fun hypothetical. Jon says to Elias “I know what you’re doing. I know what your plan is.” and maybe let him sweat a bit (though you’re not going to get anything out of him that way cause he’s too good at mind games, but we like to see him suffer)

and then going along the lines of “All of the powers have rituals, so that means the Eye has one too, but I think I know what you want to do with it. You really are on our side, as much as you have horrible ways of going about it. Because the Entities feed on fear, and we’re most afraid of the unknown and unseen. Fear loses its power with understanding. You’re not just planning your ritual to serve the Eye - you’re trying to save the world from the Entities by unmasking them and breaking their power. And I’m in, even though I hate you. I’ll help with your ritual.” All of this, of course, just being lies. Just pretending to go along with Elias to find out more about the ritual and what Elias’ actual priorities are. And Elias would probably agree that the assistants shouldn’t be let in on the fact that Jon is working for him, because they’d never go along with it, so at least Jon doesn’t have to pretend to not hate Elias when someone else is present, and doesn’t lose the others’ trust entirely. And then Jon, once he figures out how to pass messages without Elias seeing, can reveal to the assistants that he’s now basically a double agent, and get them on board with him to take down Elias, because goddamn is he going to need help. Figuring out what he can and can’t see would be tough, too. Jon could fake evidence of another assassination plot, but would risk revealing his own motivations too. And Elias tends to wait until the last possible moment to act, so it wouldn’t be easy to test your theories. However, Jon is probably not powerful enough at this point to stop Elias looking inside his mind, or just Knowing something that exposes him, and if Elias figures out his game at any point it’ll be for nothing. Or just not being a good enough actor (yes Jonny is a very good actor but Jon Archivist probably isn’t) and Elias figuring out what he’s doing even without the Eye powers, just by being a very experienced Scheming Bastard. And even if he buys it, Elias would probably withhold as much as possible, as long as possible, out of caution. And, when you’re EXTREMELY TRAUMATISED FROM A BUNCH OF MORTAL PERIL, the complex thought functions of your brain are literally shut down, you are in no place to be putting together all those pieces and making complex plans. And Jon is more worried about the Unknowing and just hoping the Eye ritual will be far enough away that he doesn’t have to worry about it, not realising that he’s already on that path and needs to intervene soon. There’s no damn way I’d expect anyone to cope with that level of chronic dread and trauma with almost zero support and also be able to play a high risk double agent game against a Machiavellian clairvoyant whose powers they don’t even understand. Also, the Archives staff have been turned against each other by the events of the previous seasons. I don’t think Elias necessarily orchestrated that beat-by-beat since he can’t See the future, but obviously he did deliberately keep them fractured and distracted, so the times he intervened vs didn’t intervene with other Entities’ attacks was done with an eye to (haha) maximum disharmony, keeping the Archives crew divided and isolated. That’s my theory on why he picked Martin to work there - not because he knew exactly how things would play out, but just knowing that Martin had enough insecurities and personality clashes with the others to be a useful pawn to move in any direction, however things played out. He could probably have predicted Jon being annoyed and mean to Martin and then being guilty about it later once his assistants were being put in mortal peril. He probably had no idea they would both fall for each other, which did somewhat mitigate their total isolation, but actually just gave Elias another convenient way to manipulate Jon by putting Martin in danger. He basically planned the broad strokes of the whole thing, but also left plenty of manoeuvrability in the details. So uh... if you want to put yourself in Jon’s shoes, good luck with that. Hindsight, as they say...

#the magnus archives #relisten