#messes

[splynter]

Two Birds On A Wire…

Woe, another iterator oc upon ye. Hushed Breaths Between Bladed Ribs

#splynter art #rain world #iterator oc #Messes #HBBBR #I LOVE HIM #I LOVE HIM SO MUCH #HES SO FUCKED UP AND EDGY BUT IM INSANE FOR HIM #ARGHHRTHHFHFGH #that moment when your blorbo is your own oc #Tw eyestrain #eyestrain

[autisticlancemcclain]

A Mother’s Love [Chapter 2]

chapter 1 is here 

Lance & Hunk & Pidge (Voltron), Pidge & Hunk (Voltron), Fluff and Humour, 2.2k Words

Summary: Nothing is more frustrating than someone quickly finding something you’ve been looking for forever. Moms are excellent at this skill. Funnily enough, so is Lance. 

---

Hunk jumps out of his skin as Pidge bursts into his room, looking rather panicked.

“Hunk you have got to help me,” she says desperately, before Hunk could even open his mouth to ask her what was wrong.

Hunk is vaguely worried she might pass out. Her face is concerningly red, and she has her hands braced on her knees, panting. “How about you take a deep breath,” he suggests.

“No time,” she wheezes. Hunk looks at her in alarm, but can’t stop himself from being a smartass.

“I’m actually going to go ahead and insist that there is always time to breathe. You know, the thing that guarantees our continued survival?” 

Pidge gathers enough of her breath to shoot Hunk a dirty look, but to her credit she does pause and try and regulate her breathing. After a moment, she looks up at Hunk and repeats herself, more emphatic than before: “Hunk, dude, you have got to help me. It is more urgent than you could possibly imagine.”

Hunk sits straight up at this, alarmed. “Holy shit, are we being attacked? Fuck, Pidge, you should’ve lead with that!” He gets up hurriedly, starting to pull on his armour. 

“No, dude, chill,” Pidge says, reaching out a hand to stop him. “Sorry. Probably shouldn’t have said that — it’s not that kind of urgent. I just need your help to find something before Lance comes to check on me.”

Hunk sits back down, looking at her warily. “And you want to do this because…?” 

Pidge huffs, looking up at the ceiling. She mumbles something Hunk can’t hear.

“...What?”

She mumbles again, but not really any louder. 

“What?” he repeats.

“I lost the Turmingifiver bolt!” she yells, finally.  

Hunk gasped. He stares at her for a second, searching her face for a twitch of a smile or a twinkle in her eye, but he can’t find any.

“No!” he exclaims. “Tell me you’re joking.”

Pidge bites her lip guiltily. “I put it in my room instead of the workshop and now I can’t find it.”

“Pidge, that is the only one we have, and Turming is hundreds of lightyears away! We won’t be going that direction for months!” 

“I know!” she wails. “I don’t know what to do! I’ve torn my room apart looking for it — I even cleaned most of it! It’s like it disappeared!”

Hunk slaps a hand to his head, groaning. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He takes a breath, not wanting to blow up on Pidge. The situation sucks, and she’s at fault, but it’s a solvable situation. It isn’t worth getting that angry over. “Shit. What are we going to do, we — wait.” He sits straight up, looking at Pidge strangely. “Why did you come to me for help? Lance is the one with eagle eyes. If you ask him, he’ll find it in two minutes flat. Didn’t you say he was coming to check on you?”

“That’s the problem!” Pidge insists. “I could be looking for something for ten straight years, tearing a place apart from top to bottom, but you ask Lance for help and he finds it immediately. It makes me feel like an idiot — how does he even find things that fast? It doesn’t make sense!”

Hunk pats her back sympathetically. “I’m well aware it’s humbling, trust me. Once, at the Garrison, I had to do this research paper for my Aviation History class, right? And it was assigned by Illean.”

Pidge winces at the name. “God, fuck, Illean? That sucks, he’s such a hardass. I bet it was, like, fifteen pages at least.”

Hunk nods. “Yeah! It was eighteen pages, which I firmly believe he chose just to be a dick. Who the hell assigns eighteen pages? Anyway. The day before it was due, I went to go do some last minute editing, and I could not find the file. It was nowhere, and I looked. And I knew damn well I saved it, I even backed it up to the cloud, but I could not find it for the life of me. Obviously I panicked, but I was with another friend at the time and she offered to look, but she couldn’t find it either, which just made me panic more. Both of us looked for like twenty minutes, doing everything we could on my laptop. We employed every trick in the book, we must have hit ‘recover file’ like, 200 times. But the fucking paper had apparently never existed.”

Pidge looks at him with wide eyes. “God, that must have been horrifying! I never took his class, but Matt did, and once he asked for an extension and Illean yelled at him, in front of the whole damn class, until he cried. Fuck. Did you have to hand it in late?”

“I was in tears too, dude, I was so panicked, because if anyone raises their voice at me even a little I will immediately cry, and Illean yelling at me would probably have me hyperventilating. But after a half hour of panic, Lance came in from his programming class. He looked at the laptop for, and I am not exaggerating, twelve motherfucking seconds, and found it. I was so consumed by rage that the anxiety literally fled my body, it was wild. To this day I get a little scowly when I think about it.”

Despite herself and her situation, Pidge smiles. Hunk certainly has a way with words.

“So, yeah. I get the frustration,” Hunk continues. He looks at her pityingly. “But that bolt is really, really important, Pidge.” He puts a gentle hand on her shoulder. “If Lance can find it, it’s worth your pride. And you know he will.”

Pidge sighs, already resigned to her fate. She should have known what Hunk would say. She gets up slowly, trying to postpone the inevitable, looking forlornly at the door.

“Should I wait for him to come check on me and bring it up in casual conversation, or beat my remaining dignity to the ground and go find him now?” she ponders.

Hunk grimaces. “I cannot overstate how important that bolt is. I think you should kiss your dignity goodbye and bite the bullet.”

Pidge sighs again. “Yeah, okay.” She makes for the door, opening it with far less fervour than she had just a few minutes ago. “Goodbye, pride and dignity,” she announcs, dragging her feet. She pauses, looking back at Hunk, who had already gotten up to follow her. She gives him a look, playfully annoyed.

“I was going to ask if you wanted to witness my impending humiliation, but I should’ve known your drama-obsessed ass was coming already.” 

Hunk shrugs, unrepentant. “Sorry, dude, I love it when you get humbled. It’s funny and I refuse to apologise for that.”

The two of them make their way down the hallway, Pidge nodding her head, conceding. 

“Yeah, fair, it would be. I mean, it’s funny whenever it happens to you guys, at least –”

“Pidgey!” 

Speak of the devil, and he shall appear. 

“Hey, Lance,” Hunk greets, disproportionately excited. Pidge narrows her eyes at him but eventually sighs, turning to Lance. 

“Hi, Lance,” she says dejectedly. 

Lance looks hurt. Alarmed  – there is literally nothing in the universe more depressing than Lance’s big brown doe eyes when he gets sad – Pidge rushes to correct her tone.

“No no no! I’m not upset to see you! I mean, I am a little –” 

Lance’s face falls further. Hunk blinks at her. 

“Dude,” he says incredulously. 

Pidge throws her hands up, frazzled and a little panicked. “Sorry! Lance! I need your help to find something!”

“...Okay,” Lance says slowly. The hurt hasn’t quite faded from his expression, but at least now he looks more confused than anything. “What did you lose?” 

Pidge sighs again, resigned. “The Turmingfiver bolt.”

Lance’s eyebrows reach his hairline. “The desperately important one that can’t currently be replaced?”

“That would be the bolt, yes.”

“Oh, well, at least you lost it just recently, right? Should be easier to find.”

There is a very loud silence from the Green Paladin. 

“Pidge,” Lance says, tone flat, “please tell me you came for help the second you lost it.”

‘That’s not fair!” Pidge argues. “I freaked, okay? I tried looking for it first! I even cleaned my room! But it’s been three days, and I can’t find it, and I know if I ask you you’ll find it in like two minutes and I’ll look like an idiot! I am stressed, okay? I’m allowed to make one or two poor decisions!”

Lance softens immediately, wry grin up the corner of his mouth. The hurt has finally disappeared from his face, which is beyond relieving for everyone in the room. A hurt and sad Lance is depressing, but being the cause of that hurt is like cutting off your own hand – hurting him feels like a betrayal of yourself. Keith likes to joke that all they had to do to win the war was have Lance befriend Zarkon, then Zarkon would stop doing horrible things because Lance would be sad every time he did them. They all laugh, but Hunk is pretty sure he saw that plan written out as a last resort in Shiro’s ‘Alternate Plans If Everything Continues To Go To Shit’ binder.

“I’m not a superhero, Pidge,” Lance teases, “although I’m flattered you see me in that light.”

Pidge harrumphs, but doesn’t argue, which makes Lance grin more.

“I’m sure it will take me a couple hours to find it. You’ve been looking for days, right? And it’s a tiny little bolt?”

Pidge nods, hesitantly placated. 

“Exactly! I’m sure I’ll have to look pretty hard. Let’s head to your room and look around a bit, okay?”

The three of them walk to Pidge’s room, Pidge explaining in detail the last time she had the bolt, what she was doing, and what it looked like. As they enter the room in question, Hunk raises his eyebrows, exchanging a glance with Lance. If this is Pidge’s room clean… yeesh. He doesn’t want to imagine what dirty looks like. There’s shit everywhere.

“Pidge, you can’t see the floor,” Hunk says, bewildered. 

“I have a lot of important things!” she defends. 

“Okay, damn. I was thinking that we were gonna find this bolt easily earlier, because you made it sound like your room was actually organised by, like, real standards, but I think even Lance might have trouble finding something in this mess. It’s not even like finding a needle in a haystack. It’s like finding a needle in a pile of needles. It’s like –”

“Found it!” chirps Lance, leaning over to pluck something from the ground. He holds out his hands, and – yep. A small, octagonal-headed neon green bolt, barely a centimetre long. 

Pidge screams. Just a loud, wordless yell. Hunk bites his cheek harshly, doing everything he can to keep his laughter in check, but eventually he can hold it no longer and doubles over, losing it. He shakily turns over his wrist, and what he sees set him off again. 

“Forty-two seconds,” he wheezes. 

Pidge yells again, and Lance smirks a little. He was trying to hold it back, maybe to spare Pidge’s feelings, but seriously. It must be physically impossible not to feel a little gratified when you easily find something someone else has been looking for for days. 

“This is ridiculous!” Pidge screeches. “I have been tearing my room apart for days! It, admittedly, is still cluttered beyond belief! The bolt is ridiculously small! How the fuck did you find it so quickly? I used a metal detector!”

Hunk, who had just started to calm himself down, loses it again. 

“A fucking metal detector! I literally did everything that was possible to find the damn thing! And you waltz in here in under a minute, barely glance around, and you find it! Witchcraft! Sorcery! Black fucking magic! You are not of this realm!”

Lance snorts, walking over to Pidge and ruffing her hair before tucking the bolt in her clenched fist. “I just have a good eye, Pigeon. Don’t lose it this time.” He walks gracefully out of the room, presumably to go continue his rounds and check on the rest of the team. 

Pidge shakes her head, huffing. She nudges Hunk with her foot, who had collapsed onto the ground at some point during his wheezefest. 

“Are you done,” she demands. 

Hunk sits up shakily, grinning at her. “That was the greatest thing I’ve ever seen. You got clowned. He found that so fucking fast.”

Pidge crosses her arms, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. It happens. Lance’s abilities are beyond the mortal scope of reality. That was unnatural.”

“Can’t deny you’re relieved, though,” Hunk points out, getting to his feet. 

“God, yeah, you have no idea. Humiliating or not, holy shit. Feels like a huge weight is off my shoulders. My dignity was unfortunately worth it. You were right.”

Hunk slings an arm around her shoulders, leading her to the workshops. “Yep! Usually am. Now, let’s go finish that project, huh? We better use that bolt before you lose it again and I have to watch you get humbled again. Actually, you know what? Maybe you should lose it again. It was pretty funny. I wouldn’t mind a rerun.”

Pidge shoves him, but she’s grinning. “Yeah, yeah, shuddup. Let’s go attach this bolt to something so I never have to think about this again.”

#vld #voltron #hunk #hunk garrett #pidge #pidge holt #lance #lance mcclain #team punk #garrison trio #messes #the three of em #mom friend lance #lance has eagle eyes #please no one take this too seriously #everyone love lance #even when hes clowning u #fluff #humour #multichap #a mother's love #ch 2 #my writing #fic #longpost #oh tis one needed WAY less workshopping that was a relief #also i added brown eyed lance so #brown eyed lance

[junecoast]

I think of how it felt to be interrupted by you. What parts of me are mine, and what parts are a consequence? What parts are a result? What parts are a weapon? Is there a separation of the two? What is mine inside of me, and what is yours? I speak it out loud for the first time in years. The first time ever? I speak about it out loud and I can feel it slinking around inside of me. You yanked me to a stop and interrupted the entire person I was becoming. I started to be called the sick, sad scared girl. The mean girl. I was the mean, sick sad girl. I became the mean sick sad adult. I want to yank you to a compete stop and scream that this is what you’ve done to me. This is what you’ve done to me, and I don’t know where the real me stops or starts inside of me. I don’t know where you start and stop inside of me. I am sobbing uncontrollably in my car, in public with people watching and I don’t care. This is what you’ve done to me. I am screaming at the top of my lungs. This is what you’ve done to me. I don’t know where the real me starts and stops. I don’t know where she is. Or is this her? Your interruption a hand around my neck, killing whatever I could have been. You killed whoever I could have been and I can’t figure out how to forgive you. I can’t figure out how to forget. I can’t figure out how I am supposed to forget. I can’t figure out how I am supposed to keep going, when the worst parts of you mask my face. When I am working with your hands, speaking with your words. I cant figure out how I am supposed to be when it feels like I have never been. Have I ever been? Ringing in my head over and over, have I ever been? Have I ever been? Have I ever been?

#messes

[vroyeaux]

Adrian standing there with the guys like "...wait..it's Bax's birthday..?"

"You mean NONE of you knew!??!?" Shit, now this is just embarrassing.

Louiee sighs, crossing his arms. Atleast he's not the only one. "It's fine. Just help me hang some streamers.”

#louiee #messes #absolute messes

[hydraprisma]

L’assiette au beurre, “Messes noires” (Black Mass), n°141, 12 december 1903, by Manuel Orazi Source: https://www.histoiredelafolie.fr/psychiatrie-neurologie/michel-collee-les-representations-de-la-messe-noire-album-n1-2018

#orazi #messes #noires #black #mass #black mass

[cyallowitz]

Poetry Day: Didn't I Just Bathe You?

It’s true (This one is about parenting.  Obviously.  Thankfully, my son was never this destructive in a short amount of time.  He was too meticulous and carefully in his messes.) It has only been ten minutes Since you were rinsed and scrubbed I dried you off and diapered you Leaving you with mom I went to get your bottle That you have before you sleep Yet your hair is all in tangles And your feet…

View On WordPress

#author #children #dirt #humor #messes #mischief #parenting #poems #poet #poetry #writing

[mindsetthoughtwords]

How one can understand the world’s plights if they yet can’t define, or put into perspective, their own messes.

#prose #thoughts #mindset #writing #literature #spilled ink #spilled thoughts #writers and readers #plights #perspective #messes

[365elephantsoap]

BURGLERY

There was a loud crash that came from the kitchen, waking me up around 3:30 Wednesday morning. At first I thought that Albus might be chasing a mouse or something around the dining room, but then the noises started to sound like someone rooting around in our kitchen drawers. I laid there imagining some person rummaging through our things. I peeled myself out of bed and put on a robe. Then I looked around my dark room for some sort of weapon. I grabbed a yoga bolster, opened my bedroom door, and quietly stepped out into the hallway, prepared for a pillow fight. I poked my head around the corner and made eye contact with a raccoon. The raccoon then scurried from the dinning room and into the kitchen.

I jumped back, my heart beating in my chest and whispered “I can’t do this alone.” So, I did the thing I loathe doing and went and woke Michael up. I said “Hey, I’m really sorry to do this, but there are raccoons in our kitchen and I can’t do this alone.” I don’t know what part of my sentence made Michael suddenly very alert, but he sat up and looked at me with wide open eyes and loudly whispered “There are raccoons in the kitchen?!” I nodded, still clutching my yoga bolster and said “there are raccoons in the kitchen.” By the time we made it back to the kitchen, the raccoons, two of them, had scurried out into the garage where they tried to hide in plain site. We sealed off all of the pet doors and then he proceeded to convince the raccoons to exit the garage while I started cleaning up the mess they left behind inside.

It could have been worse.

They ate the cat food that was still in the cat’s bowl and they pulled pizza out of the trash bin. They had dragged the open bag of cat food into the center of the kitchen but had yet to dump the contents out on the floor. The biggest mess was left in the dog bowl and water dish. Michael had a small planter sitting on the window ledge where he has been trying to grow a banzai tree for the last three years. The small little tree had finally reached a size where it not only had leaves, but it could be shaped. Michael had fixed a paperclip to the stem to encourage it to grow with a bend. The raccoons had knocked over the whole thing, dumping dirt and tree into the water dish and food bowl. I rescued the tree from the water dish and we set it aside so Michael can re-pot it.

As I was washing out the water dish, Micheal came back inside from clearing the raccoons out of the garage. He pouted as he delicately lifted his tree and said “I think one of the took a bite out it.” Then he looked at me and we just sort of stared at each other for a minute. He said “we had raccoons in our kitchen.” I nodded and replied “we had raccoons in our kitchen.” Then we went back to bed, except I laid there staring up at my ceiling and listening. At one point, I was sure they had come back and I got up and did a perimeter check. All of the pet doors were secure, nothing in the basement. I peeked out the front door and watched as one ran down the sidewalk. I narrowed my eyes at the creature and then I went back to bed.

Later, at a more reasonable hour, Michael was getting ready to leave for work. He paused outside of our bathroom where I stood applying face cream. He said “Thank you for asking for help earlier.” This is one of our biggest topics of disagreements. I do not ask for help. Even if it is clear to everyone around me that I need help, I will not ask for help. I will be dragging all of the groceries up the hill to the front door as Michael is on his way out to help me. He will ask “Need help?” and I always respond “No. I got it.” I can spend twenty minutes trying to open a jar, determined to not hand it over to larger hands. “Do you need help?” he’ll ask and me grunting with the brute force I am applying to the lid will mumble “No.” It drives Michael insane.

I believe we both have learned my limits. It’s raccoons. My limit is raccoons in my kitchen.

#raccoons #asking for help #messes

[cinnamon-coffees]

“It’s literally impossible to be a woman.

You are so beautiful, and so smart, and it kills me that you don't think you're good enough. Like, we have to always be extraordinary, but somehow, we're always doing it wrong?

You have to be thin, but not too thin, and you can never say you wanna be thin. You have to say you wanna be healthy, but also, you have to BE THIN.

You have to have money, but you can't ask for money because that's crass.

You have to be a boss, but you can't be mean.

You have to lead, but you can't squash other people's ideas.

You're supposed to love being a mother, but don't talk about your kids all the damn time.

You have to be a career woman, but also, always be looking out for other people.

You have to answer for men's bad behavior, which is INSANE, but if you point that out, you're accused of complaining!

You're supposed to stay pretty for men, but not so pretty that you tempt them too much or that you threaten other women because you're supposed to be a part of the sisterhood, but ALWAYS STAND OUT and ALWAYS BE GRATEFUL. But never forget that the system is rigged, so find a way to acknowledge that but ALSO, always be grateful!

You have to never get old. Never be rude. Never show off. Never be selfish. Never fall down. Never fail. Never show fear. Never get OUT OF LINE. It's too hard! It's too contradictory, and nobody gives you a medal or says 'thank you!' And it turns out, in fact, that not only are you doing everything wrong, but also, everything is your fault.

I'm just so tired of watching myself, and every single other woman tie herself into knots, so that people will like us.

And if all of that, is also true for a doll just representing a woman, then I don't even know." -Gloria the barbie movie

this is it. this is exactly it oh my god.

#barbie #barbie movie #feminism #this is modern feminism talking #it’s so messed up #the patriarchy #male gaze

[mo-mode]

AU where Mr. D claiming to be Percy’s dad accidentally counts as Claiming according to Greek god law or whatever and now all the other gods legitimacy believe Percy is his son, but if Mr. D corrects it, he has to explain to Zeus why he pretended he was Percy’s dad so now he’s like “YEP ol’ Perry Johansson is MY child wowie just look at the little fry, you have your mother’s eyes. Please stop standing next to water or you will blow my cover”

Meanwhile Poseidon is just standing off to the side like “how on earth did I dodge THAT bullet”

#EVEN BETTER if Mr D tries to keep his cover by actually treating him like a son #Clarisse doesn’t mess with him cuz after the toilet fiasco Mr D is like “I will feed you to my cult young lady!! good job Peter :) #Percy is like “hey dad why can I control water “and Mr D is like …ever heard of that guy that turned it to wine?? #Mr D: PLEASE just help me I can’t keep it a secret for much longer Mr. Brunner: you told him his brother was JESUS??? #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson the lightning thief #dionysus #Mr D

[six-of-cringe]

Once when I was in college I needed a picture of my fish for an assignment, but the fish lived at home so I text my brother to send me a picture and he asks "how close of a picture" and I say "pretty close" and he sends me this

#hysterics every time i see it. like all up in his fuckin business got damn!!!! #quite literally he did not understand the assignment. he wasn't messing around either #not soc #fish #close fish

[junecoast]

I watch from the outside. But this is what I wanted, wasn’t it? This was the end goal, wasn’t it? This is what was supposed to be on the other side, wasn’t it? Me in one room, you in the other and neither of us speaking. That’s what I wanted, right? This was how it was supposed to go, right? This is what I wished for, right? Is this what you wished for too? Is this what you wanted? Is this how you wanted me? Is this how you imagined I’d be? Is this how you think of me? Are you thinking of me? Are you thinking of me too? Are you thinking of me? Have you thought of me? Did you ever wonder if you’d stop thinking about me? Do I even want you to think of me? Do I even want to think of you? In my dreams there are a thousand different lives we cycle through together. In one you are still my mother and I am still your daughter. In another I am your mother and you are my daughter. In another we are nothing. In another we are strangers, just brushing shoulders as we pass. In this life you are my mother, and I am your daughter but we are not speaking. I am on the outside, tapping on the glass. Can I come in now? Do I want to come in? Am I allowed to come in? Am I still here? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I want? But I cycle through our lives in my dreams and can’t breathe. Are you holding my head underwater or am I the own rope around my neck? Who is holding the knife this time around? Who is it? Is it me? Is it you? Who is holding the knife? Who is holding the knife? Who is holding the knife? Isn’t this what I wanted? Isn’t this what I wanted? If this is what I wanted, why does it feel like this? Why does it feel like this? Who is holding the knife if I am alone in the room?

#messes

[alleesaur]

[Artfight 2023] [14]

Corrupted One

for @verdant-succubus

#artfight #artfight 2023 #gif #eyes #scopophobia #messed up some colors with rendering eek sorry

[kindnessisstillhere]

Organised Messes

A million places to store things,

Shelves almost a tetris game,

And still it looks a cluttered mess,

Still people claim things lost.

It's organised, I know and swear,

I know what I put and where,

Even if it's only vaguely thrown,

It won't be hidden, lost or lone.

Perhaps it's a mess but it is mine,

Anything to find and I'll have it on time.

#poetry #poem #messes #organised messes

[plumbum-art]

Can I watch?

idea: Crowley convices Aziraphale to start a tiktok channel ("Just for funsies, angel. To show your ah cooking skills!"), but then edits the videos to make them look as lasciviously as possible. You know...like That foodporn guy.

#good omens #good omens 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens fanart #good omens comic #digital art #don't mess with the soft angel or he messes with you #pb comic

[theaxolotlkween]

Reasons why Jon Archivist is truly a character of all time:

Had the police called on him several times when he was a young child

Keeps his rib and the ashes of the season one antagonist next to his stationary drawer

Promised he wouldn’t get lost in tunnels and then immediately got lost in aforementioned tunnels

Has no clue what a joke is

Learned how remarkably easy it is to buy an ax in central London

Had to have two separate interventions

Told people his place of employment before traumatising them for life

The first character he ever said ‘I love you’ to is a cat

Allegedly participated in amdram

Watches documentaries and collects some kind of weird shit (my headcanon is Soviet Union postcards) when he’s not being a paranoid mess

Canonically looks like he hasn’t slept in weeks

Knows nothing about library science

Fell head over heels for a man that he hated until he learned he lied on his resumé

Has been referred to as Jesus or Jesus-adjacent at least twice

Asexual icon

Knows what a meme is and said “LOL” in the first episode

Rode on a merry-go-round sometime during his university days because he was in a weird place emotionally

Died for our Jonathan Sins

Is probably a computer now playing minesweeper with his boyfriend and evil 200+ year old boss

#i just love how much of a hot mess this sad little wet cat of a man is #jonathan sims #jon sims #the archivist #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #tmagp #the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers