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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

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Corrupted, chapter ten: A Sopping Wet Cat - a Malevolent x TMA crossover

Between elderly Lara Croft and the deeply-adoptable Jonathan Sims, Tim's feeling less alone.

Now if only Bouchard and Hastur weren't playing footsie while Tim tries to find his own footing…

Chapter ten of Corrupted, a Malevolent x TMA crossover.

AO3

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It’s after five p.m., but Tim is sure Bouchard will let them in. He doesn’t even bother calling this time before taking the bus. If Hastur is right, and Bouchard can see just about everything, he’ll know they’re coming.

Tim’s not sure how he feels about omniscience actually being real and belonging to just… some guy.

The gods in this world might be dead, but they exist, and that throws his entire philosophy of life into question. Even worse, they were eaten by something worse—which begs the question of what the fuck a god actually is.

“Is that guy a god?” he murmurs into his earpods.

Who?

“Bouchard.”

No.

“Right. How are we defining gods?”

How do you define a cat?

Tim purses his lips. “Guess you know a cat when you see one, huh?”

Indeed.

“So it’s not just a power thing, apparently, given that this guy isn’t one. Did that mean there were gods without power, too?”

Yes, actually. Hastur sounds warm again. You can be so very smart, Tim.

“Flattery will get you everywhere, blah blah blah,” Tim mumbles.

Hastur laughs softly.

Tim falls silent. He has a lot to process.

At least it’s easier to reach the Magnus Institute now that he can see. The area is truly lovely; old buildings, probably all National Trust, absolutely clean sidewalks (he can’t imagine the army of people paid to preserve that), and discreet little signs that don’t stick out in any way because reputation matters more here than advertising.

“Oh it's expensive,” Tim sings to and I'm so happy. “So damned expensive! Couldn’t afford a cup of tea! Bet the coffee tastes like pee!”

Hastur laughs. What on earth are you doing?

“Being delightful so the poor police don’t come out and nab me.”

Unlikely to work as a deterrent.

"Well, a guy's gotta try." And then Time spots a slight man in a sweater-vest juggling and losing his folders in a spray of knowledge all over the steps.

“Damn and blast!” the fellow announces like an eighty-year-old, and Tim knows who he is.

“Hey, Jon, right?” Tim says, jogging lightly toward him. “Let me help.”

“Oh! Mister Stoker.” Jon blinks at him. Then behind him. Then at him again, looking confused.

Tim turns and sees nothing. He shrugs and turns back, bending to gather papers. “Sorry I don’t know what order all this goes in.”

“Oh, it doesn’t matter,” says Jon in a deeply peevish way. “She’s not going to organize them anyway.”

“She?” says Tim.

“I have been reassigned to the archives,” says Jon with a little sniff, and pushes his glasses up his nose. “There, I have discovered that Ms. Robinson has no sense of order, nor a positive attitude toward anyone who wants to help.” He stops. His eyes widen. “I am so sorry. This isn’t any of your trouble. Please don’t say… er, anything. I’m very grateful for the opportunity.”

Just listening yesterday, Tim had thought Jon was a prick. Looking at him today, he’s certain Jon is actually a nerd—probably a bullied one—who’s wearing spiky intellectual armor to stay safe.

Tim knows the type. He’s adopted a few in the past. “Mum's the word, boss," he says, and hands over a sheaf of paper back.

Jon stuffs them into folders without any attempt at organizing. His face looks hot. “I’m sorry to have inconvenienced you, Mister Stoker.”

“Tim, please. I’m gonna be around for a bit, so no need to be so formal, yeah?”

Jon’s shoulders untense. “You are? That’s, ah, good to know? I’m sorry, but this is after business hours, and we’re closed.”

“Naw. Elias will let me in,” says Tim.

“Oh! He’s expecting you?” says Jon. “And I’m keeping you! Come along, now, let’s not waste any more time,” he says as if the delay were Tim’s idea, and scurries up the stairs.

What an annoying little man, says Hastur.

Nope. Dorky in the extreme, maybe; he definitely knows the type. Tim grins and follows.

Jon juggles folders and keys; ungraciously accepts a hand with the folders; drops his keys; and finally, face red, gets the door open. “I’m glad to hear we were able to help you. Nasty things, Leitners.”

“Leitners?”

“That bookplate. Jurgen Leitner owned evil books—and legitimately produced some of the few verifiable supernatural occurrences on record.” Jon gives him a challenging look.

Tim just wants to scoop him up and wrap him in a scarf and make him watch some sci-fi. “I believe you.”

The relief is visible. “You do?”

“Seen some things. Yes.”

“I’m really glad we can do something for you,” says Jon. “You know, it’s very strange. I’ve worked here for three years, and I've never once seen Elias get involved in any—”

“Mister Sims, what are you doing?”

And there she is—the little old lady who doesn't look like a bad-ass god-fighting machine, but definitely is. She's tiny; conservatively dressed. She’d be cute if she weren't so severe. Her reading glasses hang from a chain around her neck, and though she lacks any obvious weapons, she still has books in her jacket pockets.

Tim wonders which one's the flamethrower.

Tread carefully, Hastur says, unnecessarily. I don’t know what she remembers after Kayne’s intervention.

“Ms. Robinson,” Jon stammers. “He’s, ah. There’s been a, ah.”

"Hello," says Tim. "Your boss asked for me."

Her look flatly dismisses what he says like wiping away footprints in the sand. "Did he."

Jon looks confused. He's frozen, folders bulked under one arm, keys still in hand.

"He did!" says Tim brightly. "So why don't we all go and see what happens?"*

The old woman stares him down.

Gimlet eyes, Tim thinks, having encountered the phrase in publishing a few times, but never before now actually seeing them.

"Let's do that," she decides, and gestures toward the darkened Institute and Elias’ office. "In we all go now, chop chop," says elderly Lara Croft.

He's already inside. Bouchard. It's safe to enter.

Tim would give a lot of money to know how Hastur knew that, but he can't ask now. He smiles his absolute warmest at both of them and walks into what he desperately hopes is not his tomb.

Bouchard is waiting for them, standing in his office doorway. Tim feels weirdly justified. “Thank you, Gertrude,” says Bouchard. “Tim, if you please—right this…” He stops. Stares. “Interesting,” he murmurs.

“Are you sure you want to handle this?” says the murderous old bat.

“Yes, it’ll be fine. He’s not a danger,” says Bouchard.

He’s lying. You are.

Bouchard’s look. It’s hungry. What the hell.

“Jon,” says Bouchard, suddenly. “I will need to see you after this meeting. All right? Clear your schedule. It’s going to be a bit of a thing.”

Jon looks absolutely spooked. “Sure, of course, Elias. Right.”

Lara “Gertrude” Croft looks highly suspicious.

“Right,” says Jon, glancing back and forth. “Um.” He flees.

“That guy needs a movie night,” Tim says.

Gertrude stares at him.

“You know. With friends? A bit of beer, or something? Snacks? Everybody cozy in socks? Bras off?”

She stares harder.

“Right. Maybe you need one, too,” says Tim.

Bouchard clears his throat. “Shall we?”

“Sure.” Tim gives her his brightest smile.

She does not respond. Well, now she’s a challenge.

Bouchard’s look has not changed. Thoughtful. Penetrative. He gestures to the seat across from his desk and sits behind it, fingers steepled.

“You really make a guy sweat with a look like that,” says Tim.

“I’m glad to hear it,” says Bouchard. “And please—do call me Elias.”

Tim shifts. “We’re all on first-name basis here, I guess. Tim.”

Elias does a little gracious nod. “So you’ve had an adventure of some kind since I last saw you,” he says. “For one thing, your vision has swapped hands, if you'll pardon my mixing of metaphors."

“How did you—yeah. That happened. Also, that old bat out there tried to kill me for no damn reason?”

She was aggressive, says Hastur.

“I must apologize for her, not that I have any control over her, really,” he says. “The fact is that when it’s time to stop her, I’m going to have to kill her—but she makes a marvelous distraction in the meantime, doesn’t she?”

What an absolutely fucked up thing to say. “I’m not sure I can agree with that?” says Tim.

Yes… I see your point, says Hastur, because of course, it makes sense to him. And she has done so since before you claimed this body, am I right?

Elias’ smile grows teeth. “I see you don’t miss much.”

No.

“I am mindful of it,” says Elias.

I’d guess… in the neighborhood of two centuries?

“Very good! Yes. I’m surprised one such as yourself would be aware of such mortal lifetimes.”

Hastur responds like a cat petted along its spine, arching its arse in the air. I’ve had to pay attention to such things. Human bodies are… regrettably fragile.

What the actual hell?

Tim frowns, feeling the anger rising, trying to push it down. “Hey, old guys. I’m still here, you know,” he says.

“Yes, and that is a perfect segue,” says Elias, smooth as fucking butter. “I don’t know what happened yesterday. I know Gertrude came back with her memory altered; I know whatever you got involved with raised a sort of… fog through which I could not see.”

“So you were watching,” says Tim.

“I watch everything I can,” says Elias, as though this is perfectly normal. “That is how I serve my patron. But I could not see what happened.”

Tim doesn’t care to tell him. Elias just rubs him wrong.

Chaos. That’s what happened.

“Vague, but fair enough. I cannot even see the memories in your head, Tim, which tells me on one level how strong the forces we’re dealing with are—but there is one thing I do see. You have been marked.”

Tim feels… bad?

He hunches a little. It’s not a familiar feeling, this. He's not even sure "bad" is the right word. “Yeah. Apparently, I’m doomed to become a rage monster, la-di-da.”

“This does place me in an awkward position,” says Elias. “You have, in a manner of speaking, been claimed by a patron other than mine, and they tend to be… possessive.”

Yet you have not thrown us out, says Hastur warmly (because the manipulation seems to have worked), and Tim frowns just a pinch harder.

“Naturally. I’ve never seen anything like this—which means, I fear, that you are practically catnip for me.”

And the two old assholes laugh, and Tim has almost had enough.

(But should he have had enough?)

(Wouldn’t he be more patient with this nonsense, normally?)

“Right,” Tim says. “So. I’m going to assume you also saw what happened at the police station.”

“I did. Most unfortunate.”

"We had something of a plan about that."

“Yes, and I may be able to help you with it—if you’re willing to make a deal.”

Here we go again, Tim thinks. “If you’re already watching, what difference does it make?”

“All the difference. It changes your perception of events, and alters how you feel. It becomes a gift to my patron—given under duress, which is even better—and thus, empowers me.”

Tim stares. “At least you’re honest.”

Surprisingly honest, says Hastur darkly.

Elias shrugs. “The fact is that you're difficult to see into, which is... unusual for me. Surface thoughts are easy; but I don't even know your name.”

He didn’t mean Tim. “You don’t know?”

“I can’t see it. I can see his memory of himself, but not his name—it’s clouded, even in your mind.”

We really are catnip to this guy, Tim thinks. “You don’t have to tell him,” says Tim.

I know. I’m weighing whether his aid is worth whatever price he extracts.

“I assure you, whatever ‘price I extract’ is going to be observation-based. That is, after all, what I’m all about.”

And that was weird. Very weird. Because Tim thinks Elias just lied.

There’s no reason for it. He can’t see any difference in face or body language. But he’s sure Elias lied. He’s getting something out of this beyond observation. Anger bubbles, slowly simmering.

I’ve had… various names.

Elias is looking so damned intense. “I would love to know. It might even help me refine my current thought on how to give you some… support.”

“Don’t give away the farm,” says Tim.

I see no reason to hold this back, Hastur decides.

“If you’re sure.” Tim is not sure.

I have been called Hastur. The Unspeakable One. I have been called… the King in Yellow.

Elias’ eyes light up like he just won the lottery. “Phenomenal,” he whispers. “Lord of Carcosa. Regaled in a gown of yellow, twice as tall as any man! Majestic, he glides over the ground to take his throne in lost Carcosa, for he is the king that was and shall be!”

“Oh, boy,” Tim says.

Yes, Hastur says.

“Well… I am, I will not lie, deeply honored,” Elias lies, and does a proper bow as he says it so Hastur can tell by the sound that he lowered his head.

Tim wonders if this really is the better option than cultists.

The metaphorical lid is beginning to bounce on the pot of his anger, clanging, jarring out of place with rising rage—and Elias sees. Tim knows that he sees.

Elias is enjoying this.

Rein it in, Tim tells himself, because this isn’t like him, this isn’t usual, he’s a patient man, he’s dealt with shit like this from shitty managers all in the past, this isn’t new, this… he doesn’t have to… he…

“Your self-control is extraordinary,” says Elias, softly. “I’m very impressed, Tim. And I appreciate it. I don’t particularly want to be burned—so I thank you.”

At least that time, he wasn’t lying.

Tim.

“What?” Tim snaps between clenched teeth.

Please.

Well, fuck, what’s Tim supposed to do with that?

They’re both waiting to see what he does with that.

Come on, you, he thinks. Pull it together. He breathes slowly. Deeply. Shuddering.

“You are remarkable,” says Elias, and he sounds like he means it. “I wouldn’t have guessed—forgive me.”

He is, says Hastur, as though he planned for any of this.

“I think I hate you both right now?” says Tim.

“Fair,” says Elias. “And I’m sorry that you’re in the position you’re in.”

Again—he’s telling the truth now.

Does Elias know Tim picked up when he was lying?

Tim thinks he does. Elias, Tim realizes, is a fucking dangerous piece of work.

You have an idea? says Hastur.

“I do. This is, of course, based on research and memories from those in my line going back some thousands of years. If I understand correctly, your current vulnerability is largely based on… well. Your host’s mortality.”

That isn’t… fully inaccurate.

“As opposed, let’s say, to possessing a body closer to what you had before?”

My original body? There are no bodies here closer to what I had before.

“What if one could be created? How would that affect your situation?”

Tim has no idea. “What, give him his own body? Go all deific Frankenstein?”

I need to… consider this. You say it as if there were a possibility of such a thing.

Elias’ eyes lid. It’s like he knows he’s hooked a fish, and can take his time reeling it in. “Well. You no doubt feel the stored power of this place. That is because we collect artefacts. This particular hobby is not unique to us. I may—theoretically—know of some deific flesh, carefully preserved in crystal. And I may—theoretically—know someone who could potentially use it to craft you a new body.”

“Why would you go to all that trouble?” says Tim.

“Because it will be an amazing thing to watch, and as things currently stand, you won’t live long enough to… ah. I apologize.”

“Scratch your itch?” says Tim, dry. “Get you the fuck off?”

“Something like that,” says Elias, who isn’t so easy to ruffle.

I need to think about this.

“Of course you do. Might I suggest you stay here until you do, though? No obligation, no payment—well, beyond watching you, which I will be doing anyway, no matter where you are.”

“You knew I already planned on that part,” says Tim.

Elias shrugs like a prince. “I choose to be gracious, nonetheless.”

Tim wants to hit him.

Keep it down, he tells himself. You’re not the rage. You not the… whatever the fuck wrath monster. You’re you.

“I offer protection,” says Elias. “We are not, of course, impervious to invasion, but we are far safer than a hotel, or an apartment, or, gods forbid, the street. Three agents I can see followed you here—two of the Corruption, who would devour you with mold, worms, maggots, disease; and one of the Desolation, who… well, to be frank, I don’t know what she’d do, given that you, Tim, are marked—but I assure you, she is not here on a mission of mercy.”

“What?”

“You were followed—and I am not talking about your policewoman.”

“Wait, we were?"

“You didn’t notice? Oh, dear,” says Elias.

Fuck.

Yeah, pretty much.

We shall stay, says Hastur as though the favor being given is them gracing this place with their presence.

Tim realizes with a shock that he isn’t sure his opinion is any good right now. He’s too angry. It’s not his rage. But it’s… spilling into everything. Tim has never felt unsure in his life. This is a horrible feeling. He wipes at his eyes, surprised to find them wet.

“Come.” Elias stands, not revealing whatever he thinks of this display, and heads for the door.

Are you all right?

Hastur seems to mean it. Can Tim trust that, either?

Yes. He knows he can. Whatever else is wrong with him, he knows he’s reading other people correctly, including Hastur. “Not really?”

I will do what I can for you once we are alone.

“More spells?" Tim scoffs.

Oh, the things I can teach you...

“Sure,” says Tim without conviction, and follows Elias Bouchard deeper into his spooky mid-london temple.

Elias hadn’t lied; it’s a neat little space down there, in the archives.

Well. It’s a mess. But the living quarters are definitely cute.

Gertrude Lara Croft Robinson is down there already, eyeing them, visibly daring commentary on the stacks of mismatched files, the open cardboard boxes balanced precariously against each other or on chairs, the truly heinous amount of cobwebs in every corner, between every shelf.

“Uh,” says Tim. “Nice haunted house you’re running here.”

“Mm,” says Elias.

Gertrude gives Tim a skewering look.

“No, really,” says Tim, stepping over six sagging boxes and around two piles of unsorted papers. “Get a fog machine down here and you’ll make bank.”

“Yes, well, Gertrude insists there is a reason for all of it,” says Elias as if his kingdom’s condition is of no concern.

Gertrude says nothing.

Tim suddenly wonders if she’s hiding weapons in the paperwork.

The little living area is, happily, free from nonsense. A very tiny kitchenette, a small cot sharing space with boxes and office supplies, and a bathroom with a cramped toilet and sink.

“There is a shower upstairs,” says Elias, “though it is in my office, and you will need to arrange time to use it.”

“Weird,” says Tim. “But okay.”

Elias shrugs. “It is a very old building. James Wright had it installed, so I am to understand, but what he was thinking, doing it there… well. I have no idea.”

A lie. Tim peers at him.

Elias smiles and it is a bright, sharp thing, like light glinting off a blade. “Oh, you are good at that, aren’t you?” he murmurs.

“What—was that a test?”

“It was. Over something I think you can agree, at least, is harmless.”

“Hard not to be insulted,” Tim says.

“Of course—but I had to be sure you knew on your own. I can clearly see Lord Hastur did not clue you in.”

“Lord Hastur?”

“I’ve never met a god before, and I’d prefer to be on his good side. Wouldn’t you?” says Elias.

Tim rolls his eyes so hard they hurt. “Subject fucking change. How can you help with that police officer?”

“Are you willing to do some footwork?”

Tim frowns. “Sure?”

“Good. Then I can send you to a few places which will, in time, lead her on a completely different trail.”

“So you already knew our plan.”

“Yes. I won’t send you alone, either. It’s hardly safe. Just give me some time to make a couple of arrangements.”

Truth. “Okay. I guess. Fuck, this is… Am I really kipping in a haunted basement to hide from maggot gods?”

“I fear before all of this over, you will experience far stranger things than this,” says Elias. “Now—do try to get comfortable. I will fetch you a key, as well as the code for the alarm.”

“Elias!” Gertrude protests.

“He is officially under our protection.” And there, right there, is the most real Elias has been this whole damn time, because that hardly sounded like the same man. The smarm is gone, replaced with a frankly terrifying hardness, the kind that makes Tim think he could shoot a guy in the face and walk away without a second thought.

But maybe it’s necessary to corral someone like Gertrude. She looks positively raucous for a moment, then glances at Tim.

Tim holds his hands up. “No quarrels with you. I’m just trying to stay alive.”

“I reserve the right to kill him if he tries a ritual inside the Institute—whether or not he knows what it does,” Gertrude snaps.

Well, she certainly remembers some of what happened.

“Fair,” says Elias.

“Sure?” says Tim.

Gertrude nods as if her head is an axe and marches away.

Elias sighs. “I really do apologize for her.”

Will she honor your command?

“For a while, anyway. Her focus is ‘protecting humanity,’ whatever that means, so as long as Tim provides no such active threat, he will fall off her radar.”

“She came after me yesterday," says Tim.

“She’d thought you were attempting a ritual to give one of the Fears more power,” says Elias.

“She didn’t even ask. She just… assumed.”

“In the name of saving the world, she sacrifices people,” Elias says coldly. “It makes one wonder what the value of life is to her.”

So that’s a whole host of unspoken stories. “Wow.”

“Indeed. I’ll send help down with a key and all shortly. Rest, Tim. As best we can, we’ll keep you safe.” Elias smiles (and, oddly enough, was telling the truth), and leaves.

Tim flops onto the cot.

It squeaks.

“That’ll make masturbating awkward,” he says without thinking.

Hastur laughs.

Tim did not expect to fall asleep.

It’s not like this is the best cot in the world. But there’s something weirdly peaceful about this place; the sounds of paper rustling outside the little room, presumably Gertrude moving piles from one spot to another (also presumably just keeping an eye on him). The sweet emptiness of being underground, with so much stone and paper and threadbare carpet, is its own wonderful white noise. Tim hasn’t been in a silent place in a long time, and finds it soothing. Even the simmering anger seems to be calming.

He yawns, stretches, is amused that the cot creaks again. “Mm,” he says. “Guess this is what monks see in it, or something.”

What—the silence and isolation? Perhaps; though they tend also to be… industrious orders, working far more hours than usual. The time allotted to rest in silence is slim.

“Fuck that, then. Guess I’m starting my own monastery—to laziness.” Tim stretches again. “Hey—why do you know about monks?”

I’ve spent more than one life in one such place.

Tim sputters. “Are you serious?”

Yes. There isn’t much in this world that I have not at least tried, Tim.

Tim sits up. “You really did monk things?”

I did.

“Like… prayed to gods you knew weren’t there, or whatever?”

A dark chuckle. Well, says Hastur. I will admit that I tended to leave such places altered, compared to when I went in.

“What did you do?”

Finely honed insanity, says Hastur, as though recounting a garden he’d grown.

Tim gapes at nothing. “Insanity? Hastur, why would you do that? What'd they do to you?"

Nothing. It was merely amusing at the time.

Maybe Tim is overtired. He should find this beyond horrifying, but instead, it’s just frustrating. “Look, do you even know it was wrong?”

Why would it be wrong? Hastur feels sincere. I am a god. I am no mortal. I am no human. I have graced this world with my presence out of necessity, but I have the right to do as I wish while I'm here.

“No, you don’t,” says Tim, baffled as to how he can possibly get his message across.

I disagree.

“Yeah, obviously, but that doesn’t make you right.”

No? And your twenty-nine years of life tell you this, do they?

Tim has an epiphany. “No, actually. That Kayne guy did.”

It feels like Hastur goes stiff as a board. What?

“If just being bigger than someone gives you the right to do what you want to them, then we’re actually morally wrong for running away from him.” Tim’s proud of that one.

Hastur has no mouth to sputter. He manages to do it, anyway. That is not the same!

“Sure it is. He can, so he should, right?”

I didn’t say should.

“No, but you said you have the right to do it. Well, does he?”

It’s not the same, Hastur insists.

It’s Tim’s turn to be smug, and he leans into it. "I didn't realize you were morally deficient. That's gonna make this rough, Hastur."

I am not deficient. I am morally superior.

"Right. Superior. In being deficient."

Tim...

Tim sighs. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?”

I think, Tim, rumbles Hastur in a low and terrible tone, the real question is what I am going to do with you.

Tim goes very still.

And there’s a knock at the storage closet door.

Tim has never been more grateful for an interruption in his life as he leaps off the cot to answer it. “Saved by the… hey, come in!”

It’s Jon.

Jon, who looks like a gray ghost, who holds out a key, a post-it note with a six-digit code, and a torn-out notebook page with addresses scribbled on it. He looks smaller than usual, as if whatever just happened to him has compressed him right down.

“Oh, thanks.” Tim takes them. “Hey—you okay?”

Jon stares at him. “Did you know there are things?” he says.

“So that’s a nope,” says Tim, who has decided to adopt Jon whether Jon knows it or not, and takes his arm to gently lead him in. “Sit down, already, before you pass out?”

“I am not going to pass out,” bristles Jon.

Tim sits him down, anyway, right on the cot.

It squeaks.

Tim checks a box labeled PAPER, finds it sturdy, and plops down onto it. “You okay?” he says again.

“There are… there are fear gods.”

Poor guy. “Apparently so. Might help to talk it out, yeah? Why don’t you start at the beginning? Was it Elias?”

“Oh, gods, yes it was Elias.” Jon puts his face in his hands.

Hastur finds Jon’s distress funny. The chuckle is soft, dark, cruel; it makes Tim angry—and he’s pretty sure this anger is his, not some stupid Desolation’s. Still, he takes a moment to force it down. “Yeah. I did know, little buddy, but only for about… two days? Or so? I’m losing track.”

“Oh,” says Jon.

What the hell had Bouchard done up there? “I’m guessing your boss filled you in.”

Jon looks forlorn. “One of them’s got me already, apparently?”

Accidental priest. “He just went full info-dump, didn’t he?” says Tim, who feels utterly justified in disliking that guy. “I’m sorry. I’m still wrestling with it all myself.”

“He says one of them’s got you, too,” says Jon. “And I am… I’m to go with you as we leave today, and as we gather what is necessary to distract… police? From your trail? Then retreat back to the Institute as quickly as possible.”

TIm blinks slowly. “He’s sending you?”

Jon reddens. “Yes. He says I… he says. I…”

“Hey, it’s okay. Hey. You can tell me whatever. Just verbally process, I don’t care."

Tim, we don’t have time to play therapist.

Tim ignores him. “What happened, Jon?”

“I tried to quit to prove him wrong,” says Jon. “I couldn’t.”

“Okay,” says Tim. “That’s horrible.”

“I wouldn’t have believed him except he knew about Mister Spider,” says Jon.

“Okay,” says Tim. “Do I want to know what that is?”

Jon stares. “Can we go? I… I don’t think I can sit here and think too much about this right now.”

“Sure, all right. We can talk later,” says Tim. “But—no offense—why is he sending you?”

“Oh. Because I saw who was following you this morning.”

Tim blinks. “You did?”

“Three of them. Two looked quite ill, but one just looked… angry. They all made me nervous; I’d assumed you knew, but Elias said you didn’t.”

Remarkable, says Hastur. He truly is in tune with the Beholding.

“I didn’t see them,” says Tim. “I really need the extra set of eyes. I’m a bit of trouble, you know?”

“That’s what he said.” Jon stands (and the cot squeaks). “I’m really not in a place to wield rational arguments at the moment.”

“Right. Well, let’s go, then.” Tim guides him out the door. “What's at these addresses?”

“He didn’t say.” Jon is shaking. His slightly oversized sweater-vest nearly hides it, but he is, and it makes his voice tremble.

Pathetic, says Hastur.

“Do you hate kittens, too?” Tim murmured softly.

“What?” says Jon.

“Nothing.”

Gertrude is glaring at them. “I’m watching you.”

“What?” says Jon very weakly.

“There’s a queue for that,” Tim quips, and hurries Jon out.

“That was odd,” says Jon in a high, spooked voice.

“Yeah?”

“Could’ve sworn she had blood all over her for a moment.”

What? says Hastur. Tim. Tim, I’m going to need you to do a spell.

Tim ignore that. “Don’t suppose Elias told you why I’m in trouble.”

“No. He said that was your purview, should I earn your trust.”

Tim! We need to do a spell. I need to know what’s going on with this annoying little man.

“Earn my trust? Wow. He really is a dickhead, isn’t he?”

Jon sputters. “He’s… I don’t know! He’s just Elias! I’ve barely noticed him in the past three years. Once my interview was done, we’ve hardly interacted!”

Tim!

Hastur’s confidence in Tim’s spellcasting abilities might be high, but Tim does not have that confidence. At any rate, it’ll be difficult talking to Hastur unless Jon knows the score, so… Why not? “Right,” Tim says, trusting Jon at Elias. “So… the Powers Elias told you about? Something like that jumped out of the book I brought in. It’s in my head right now.”

Jon is taking this very seriously. “Really?”

“Really. Talks all the time. Real awkward.”

Tim, Hastur warns.

Tim deadpans it: “He wants me to cast some kind of spell to check you out.”

Tim!

“Check me out?” blurts Jon, stopping before the final stair. “For what? A new host?”

Hardly. That would not be worth my time, Hastur snaps.

“Naw,” Tim says. “He’s not a swinger. He just wants to see, is all.”

Jon’s eyes seem take up half his face. “What?” he says.

“You know, because he’s in me already?”

This has gone right over Jon’s head. He stares at Tim as though he’s speaking Sanskrit.

Like a sopping wet cat, Tim thinks with growing fondness. “Never mind. Let’s go check out these addresses, yeah?”

He’s an idiot, Hastur declares. Mentally deficient.

Is Hastur jealous? He feels jealous.

“Sure,” says Jon weakly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” says Tim, and pats him on the shoulder.

Hastur growls quietly.

New game, thinks Tim, because how could he not, and follows Jon into the lobby.

#tma #tma crossover #malevolent #malevolent crossover #tma fic #malevolent fic #tim stoker #hastur malevolent #kiy malevolent #elias bouchard #gertrude robinson #jonathan sims #corrupted fic

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k-s-morgan · 1 year

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Hi! Sending love your way. <3

I was wondering - I know you spoke about what sort of story you would have written for Merlin, with Merlin reliving his life basically and killing all of Arthur’s enemies before they could hurt Arthur… do you have any plot ideas for what you would be interested in writing for Magnus and Alec, if you were to write something for them? I know you only write for specific ships; just hypothetically, what sort of story between them would be interesting for you. :)

(Referencing this post)

Hello! Thank you <3

I do have an idea for Magnus and Alec - in fact, I started writing this story and I was very excited about it, but then the war happened and I lost my drive. I might go back to it one day. This was the summary:

Young Magnus after the decades-long chaos he unleashed under Asmodeus’ guidance, staggering under the weight of everything he’s done.

Older Magnus slowly withering from Camille’s sweet cruelty, losing himself to heartbreak and a persistent thought, Why am I never enough?

No matter when, no matter how, Alec loves him always. And if he has to spend time in the past, he will do it by Magnus’ side, nurturing and cradling him, and making him see he’s worth it.

The story is set in a post-canon period, and it's an excuse for me to write about Alec meeting and comforting Magnus during the worst periods of his life, giving him the kind of love he needed.

Basically, Alec goes to the Seelie realm and asks to be made immortal because he doesn't want to ever leave Magnus. He's given an ultimatum: if he's serious about his wish for immortality, he has to prove it by spending thirty random years in the AU realm (time goes differently there, so he won't be missed in his world). If he still wants to live forever after this, so be it. Alec agrees but asks to be sent to places where Magnus is at.

If someone's interested, here is what I wrote so far. Obviously unedited.

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

“I’ve developed quite a bit of respect for you, Alec Lightwood,” Meliorn drawled. The greenish lights of the Seelie realm gave his crown an unnatural, eerie glint. “And Magnus is, shall we say, a friend. After the death of my predecessor the Queen, it is well within my powers to bless you with immortality and freeze your youth in the shape that it is now… On one condition.”

“I’m listening,” Alec said. His heart was trying to pick up the pace but he took several slow breaths, bringing it to a steady rhythm.

He had to trust that Meliorn wouldn’t ask for something impossible. That this would be a condition he would be able to follow and that it wouldn’t make Magnus hate him.

A sharp smirk on Meliorn’s face wasn’t very reassuring.

“I will open a portal to another realm for you,” he spoke at last. “A realm very similar to our world. Spend thirty years there, and when you come back, we will see what you think of immortality.”

“What?” Of all things he expected, this wasn’t among even the least likely scenarios.

Meliorn shrugged.

“Immortality is a curse as much as it is a gift. You cannot understand what you’re asking for now even if you think that you do. Have a taste of what time is. Live for thirty additional years, and if the perspective of the eternity doesn’t scare you then, I will grant your wish.”

For a moment, the eternal lights of the Seelie realm dimmed. His brain short-circuited, and Alec shook his head slowly, desperate to make sense of it all.

It was a condition he could follow. Being exiled to another world for thirty years was bearable as long as he knew that his future with Magnus was waiting for him afterward — a bright and cherished future he would do anything to secure. But…

“I will not leave Magnus for thirty years,” Alec said harshly. Thoughts about his family came next, and his brows furrowed even more. “And I can’t leave Izzy and Jace for so long, not when they can be dead by the time I return.”

“Oh, don’t you worry about it,” Meliorn waved his hand dismissively. “Time flows differently in every realm. For you, it will be thirty years — for everyone else here, it will be thirty days. Does that sound acceptable to you?”

Alec inhaled. Then exhaled; inhaled once more.

For Magnus, he reminded himself. For saving him from ever having to mourn me.

He could do it. He could live thirty years away from everything he loved.

On the other hand…

“I have a condition of my own,” he said, and the firmness of his own voice took him aback. Meliorn arched an eyebrow in a silent question. “I agree to your terms, but I want to spend these decades near Magnus of that realm. Is it possible?”

A small intrigued smile curled Meliorn’s lips upward.

“Don’t you think that this way, you’ll get sick of him even before the time runs out?” he wondered. Rage spiraled up, and it must have shown on Alec’s face because Meliorn suddenly grew serious.

“I can send you to where he is,” he agreed. “But I cannot control when or how it will happen. I also can’t tell you how many years you’ll spend in what time. You could be stuck in the seventeenth century for two decades and then spend several years in the 1900th before jumping another century. Opening the portal to a specific location and setting the time is all I can do.”

“I accept,” Alec said quickly, and when his heart jumped in — tension? excitement? again, he ignored it, squaring his shoulders instead. Magnus was Magnus, no matter which world or time he came from, and having him nearby would make these thirty years go by faster.

He just hoped he would find him quickly.

***

Alec landed in the middle of the forest. His hand clenched around his bow instinctively, but everything was quiet — no demons, no immediate danger in the vicinity.

Carefully, he activated the two runes Clary had come up with for him. One would make him fluent in whatever language people of this world were using; the other one would make him aware of the current time and date.

A predictable burn was followed by a wave of sudden awareness. May 17th, 1660.

If Magnus of this realm shared a birthday with his Magnus, then he was… about fifty? So young. He must have stopped aging only three decades ago.

An involuntarily smile began to slide over Alec’s face when a cold realization burst through, freezing him in his spot.

If Magnus was fifty and the events here followed the events of Alec’s world at least partly, then he was still with Asmodeus or fresh after banishing him. Even two years after being married, Magnus was reluctant to discuss that time. Alec knew practically nothing about it other than the fact that Magnus hated himself for whatever he’d done and that sometimes it haunted his dreams — no matter how many soothing words Alec murmured to him, it lessened the guilt on his face only somewhat.

A branch snapped behind him. Alec whirled around, his bow at the ready, but what he saw made his grip instantly loosen.

Magnus was standing in front of him, in a dirty red outfit with black stripes and an equally dirty sleeveless jacket. His hair was wild, and there was only a touch of black eyeliner around his eyes.

Their gazes met. For a moment, Magnus stared at him as if he’d seen a ghost, and then he bent over with laughter.

Normally, seeing Magnus laughing would put an immediate answering smile on Alec’s face. But this laughter wasn’t right. It was hysterical, it was broken, and it only sent chills down his spine.

“A Shadowhunter,” Magnus murmured. His hands kept twitching nervously, as if unsure what to do. “Of course I ran into you. Of course.”

Alec opened his mouth to say something — anything. His instincts couldn’t distinguish this Magnus from the Magnus he loved, and they were roaring to life now, demanding that he do something to remove this terrible expression from his face.

Before he had a chance to figure out what to do, Magnus dropped to his knees, and Alec’s breath hitched.

“Well?” a voice so familiar and so beloved sounded unacceptably bitter. “Aren’t you going to do your job? Arrest me or kill me, or whatever it is you followed me here for.”

“I didn’t follow you,” Alec managed to utter. His heart was pounding violently, his own knees trying to buckle under him. “What… do you need help?”

Magnus stared at him incredulously before bursting in a new fit of laughter.

“Is this some new trick?” he gasped. “Are you supposed to play nice and pretend you know nothing before taking me in? Can’t say I see the point.”

It was too much. Whatever Alec had been expecting from this realm and from its version of Magnus, this wasn’t it — this was worse than any worst scenarios he could have imagined. Seeing him in pain for even one moment was an unbearable prospect, and so Alec crossed the distance between them and dropped to the ground, carefully pulling Magnus into his arms.

The laughter stopped. Magnus went still, and Alec stroked his back and put his head on his shoulder, something in him finally settling in comfort.

For some time, none of them spoke. Then Magnus asked, “What are you doing?”

His voice was small and hesitant. Alec tightened his grip protectively.

“Calming you down,” he murmured. “Is it working?”

Magnus let out a hoarse, bewildered chuckle, but he didn’t attempt to move.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he asked instead. “Because if you—”

“I know. It doesn’t matter.”

“I killed people. I slaughtered villages and watched them burn. I was doing the bidding of the Greater Demon for almost forty years — you can’t tell me it doesn’t matter.”

“But you banished him. Eventually, you banished him, because you knew it was wrong.”

Magnus tried to snort, but it came out as a sob. His body shook, and then he wrapped his own hands around Alec, clutching at him, holding him as tightly as Alec was holding him.

“How can it make a difference?” he asked breathlessly. His chest was rising and falling at a concerning pace. “It’s too late now. I realized what he was too late. So many people dead — I can’t take it back now. I can never atone for it. You should execute me right here, I’m sure your superiors will support this decision wholeheartedly.”

“I told you, I’m not going to do that,” Alec said distantly. His mind was racing in several directions at once, trying to understand what to do.

He had no idea what country they were in and whether any Institute was nearby. One thing was clear: he had to take Magnus to safety. He brought gold with him that he could sell in exchange for a shelter, but that required leaving Magnus for some time, and he wasn’t willing to risk it.

“You should,” Magnus insisted. His words turned into gasps as he fought to breathe. Alec tried to lean back in alarm, but Magnus’ hands tore into him, holding him in place. “You should,” he repeated weakly. “You should… you should… you—”

The remaining fight went out of his body. His head dropped, and Alec finally managed to pull back a little.

Magnus was unconscious. Maybe it was for the best — in his state, Alec wasn’t certain he would be able to control his magic. And this gave him the time he needed to figure out where to go.

Magnus had come here on foot. It meant that there had to be a road, a village, or something similar nearby: all Alec had to do was find it.

Activating his Strength and Speed runes, he picked Magnus up. Then he took off.

***

It took him an hour to find a village and pay for a small unoccupied house on its territory. Magnus was still unconscious, and Alec put him to bed, covering him with a thick blanket.

Something was wrong. Magnus’ skin was burning, and he kept murmuring words that Alec couldn’t understand despite his rune. The feeling of helplessness gripped his chest, and it kept tightening with every passing hour.

What could he do? He was surrounded by the mundanes. He couldn’t risk contacting other Shadowhunters, and he had no idea where to find trustworthy warlocks of this time.

Maybe he could try sending a fire message to Catarina or Ragnor. They must have been alive at this point, right?

But did they even know Magnus? Would they risk coming to an unfamiliar place upon the request of a Shadowhunter?

His panic began to steal his own breath. Alec stood up, his body moving on autopilot, trying to create a semblance of activity, when Magnus’ eyes flew open. They shone golden, and the sight knocked the breath right out of Alec’s chest.

“Magnus,” he whispered. He dropped back into his chair and tried to catch his gaze. “How are you feeling?”

Magnus’ unfocused stare travelled to him and stopped. Widened. The same haunted look from before sharpened his features, etching misery into them.

“You,” he murmured flatly. “You are still here.”

“This place is safe,” Alec told him. His hand reached for Magnus carefully, freezing when he flinched away.

Right. Magnus had no reasons to trust him.

“Something is wrong with you,” Alec said instead. “You have a fever and I’m not sure how to fight it in these conditions. Is there someone I could call for you? A friend or—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Magnus closed his eyes again. His breathing grew labored. “No one can help. My magic is poisoning me.”

“What?” Alec straightened as a new wave of panic flooded him. This couldn’t be true. “Why?”

Sweat was glistening on Magnus’ forehead. His body was shaking, and even though he spoke, he didn’t open his eyes again.

“Because all my life, I’ve been using it for evil. Now that I understood what I’ve done, it’s trying to change… to become healing rather than destructive. But it’s too late.”

“No, it’s not,” Alec snapped back. As always in situations like this, his voice came out harsh and unyielding, but Magnus didn’t seem to even hear him.

“The good and the bad are clashing,” he mumbled distantly. “I can never go back to destruction, not after what I’ve realized, and there isn’t enough good in me to win this fight. They can’t coexist in their current quantities, and they can’t destroy each other entirely, so sooner or later, it’s going to kill me.”

“No,” Alec repeated, even as his heart jumped to his throat. This couldn’t be happening. Had his Magnus ever had the same problem? If so, he survived it — something helped him survive it. A solution existed, Alec just had to find it.

“Shouldn’t you be happy about it, Shadowhunter.” The way it was structured, it had to be a question, but Magnus’ voice weakened too much to make the right inflection. “I’ll spare you the trouble. Since you seem too soft-hearted to do your job and kill me.”

“I’m not going to—” Alec started, but it was too late. Magnus’s body slackened further as he was once again lost to whatever visions tormented his mind.

Taking a deep calming breath, Alec unclenched his fists. Then, just as slowly, he stood up and walked to the oddly shaped table, measuring each of his steps. There was a basket with cold water there, so he put a piece of cloth into it, let it soak, and went back to Magnus. Pressed it to his forehead gingerly.

He had to think logically. He had to act on this logic, not succumb to his emotions.

Trying to contact Catarina or Ragnor was always an option. Magnus had said no one would be able to help him, but judging from his state of mind, it wasn’t necessarily true. Still, it shouldn’t be the primary option either. There were too many uncertainties involved for Alec to feel comfortable.

Magnus had also claimed that there wasn’t enough goodness in him to overcome or even balance out the destructiveness of his magic, but Alec knew perfectly well how wrong he was. Magnus was good — kindness comprised his entire foundation, and whatever he’d done with Asmodeus, it was because he didn’t know any better.

He was the only one in the world with eyes like me. He was my father.

Maybe Magnus himself didn’t know how good he was, but Alec did. And if he managed to convince him… if he succeeded, then maybe Magnus’ magic would shift accordingly.

Magic wasn’t the biggest problem here, it was Magnus himself. If he started wanting to fight, to survive, this could be enough to save him. But how to reach him when he spent most of the time unconscious, and when he was awake, he was in a too poor of a state to listen to reason? Especially when that reason came from a Shadowhunter he didn’t know, the last person he should technically trust.

It was still something, though. It was better than nothing. Alec had talked to his Magnus when he was in a coma from overusing Lorenzo’s magic, so small and vulnerable in that hospital bed — he could do the same now.

But talking to him didn’t help last time, an unpleasant voice reminded him. He didn’t wake up at once.

“But he woke up later,” Alec said aloud. His fingers were digging into the skin of his hand, pinching and bruising it, and as soon as he noticed, he jerked them away.

Talking. He could do some talking. And whether it helped or not, this was something Magnus deserved to hear.

***

Alec waited for another twenty minutes, hoping to bring the fever down. When this didn’t happen, he clasped Magnus’ hand in his, bringing it to his lips.

“I hope you can hear me,” he said quietly. “I need you to listen because this is important. You have always been good, Magnus. Only a good person would be able to recognize that what they’re doing is wrong when they never knew anything else. You were born different. Your mother couldn’t handle it, but that was her decision. You are not responsible for her death. You were a child — a sweet child who deserved better than finding his mother dead and being immediately attacked by his stepfather. You protected yourself against him and his words the only way you knew how. No one that age can be held accountable for hurting someone, especially after a trauma like this.”

Magnus didn’t regain consciousness, but he also stopped twitching restlessly. Encouraged by this, Alec dropped another reverent kiss on his wrist.

“You survived,” he continued. “Even at that age, after losing your family, without knowing who you are, you managed to survive. Only a strong person could do that. When Asmodeus found you, you were a child starved for everything, from food to basic human connection. And unlike others, Asmodeus didn’t turn away from you, not even when you showed him your eyes. On the contrary, he proved that he was just like you, and you loved him from that point on.”

A small incoherent sound escaped Magnus’ lips. Alec leaned toward him, gently brushing his fingers against his face.

Still hot. But he couldn’t expect instant results.

“Even when you followed Asmodeus’ wishes, you did it out of love,” he said. “Not because you wanted to destroy anyone. You wanted to make him proud, to make him keep loving you. You never wanted someone’s death, Magnus, so even then, you weren’t evil. Lost, confused, yes, but not evil, never that. You are the best person I’ve ever known and nothing could change it.”

Magnus didn’t react, but that was all right. Alec had many things to say. If he had to, he would keep saying them indefinitely.

***

“—the kind of man who would accept and nurture any Downworlder in need of help,” Alec was muttering. It was the second day now, and save for several hours he used to sleep, he didn’t stop speaking. “Being guided by you would be an honor for any of them. You would be kind and understanding, patient and sensitive to whatever they are going through — because it’s you. You wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Alec was so focused on pushing himself to keep talking that it took him some time to notice that Magnus was awake. A jolt tore through him, nearly making him fall off his chair, but the excitement was tempered by quick realization that Magnus’ gaze was dull, with only minimal flickers of awareness.

Still, it was an improvement. It had to be. And Magnus was looking at him, so even if he didn’t understand any words, he was listening — this was more than Alec could have hoped for after hours of no change.

Gently, he pressed his hand to Magnus’ face.

“Anyone who needs help would choose to come to you,” he said. “Because despite your jokes and your eye rolls, you would never be able to turn down someone vulnerable and lonely. That’s who you are. The kindest and most compassionate man to ever walk the earth.”

Magnus blinked. Something more conscious flickered in his eyes, and Alec’s heart skipped a beat.

“I can see some of the future,” he blurted out. “And everything I see in yours is a testament to what a wonderful person you are. One day, you are going to save a young man named Raphael. He’ll be a recently turned vampire with no knowledge or understand of the world he stumbled into. If not for you, he would lose his identity and become a monster. You’ll save him. You’ll teach him how to survive and still be himself, and he will always be grateful to you. You are going to change the lives of so many people… and just for that, you need to hold on. Your magic can be good, you only need to believe it.”

This time, there was definitely awareness in Magnus’ stare. Some wariness, too — he was watching Alec like he wasn’t certain what to make of him, whether he was trustworthy in any way.

So Alec resumed talking, and he didn’t stop for a long time.

***

When Magnus’ mind wandered off again, Alec took a brief trip outside. He refilled their water supplies, bought some food from an unsmiling woman, and rushed back inside. Magnus was still sleeping, and since there was no way to make him eat anything, Alec settled nearby. Speaking was increasingly becoming a challenge, but he hoped that if he went too hoarse, the Iratze would take care of it.

For the next hour, he was telling Magnus about how he would help Luke at the expense of his own powers. He was so absorbed in this memory that he almost missed the moment when Magnus opened his eyes again.

“You are still here,” he whispered. It was the same words he’d said before, but this time, they sounded differently. Instead of being a miserable accusation, they were wondrous, hopeful, as if he couldn’t let himself rely on Alec’s presence yet but started wishing for it.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Alec confirmed. His hand went to stroke Magnus’ hair before he could stop himself, and his breath caught when Magnus carefully leaned into his touch.

#my fics #malec #shadowhunters #alec lightwood #magnus bane

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irrealisms · 2 years

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books-i-finished-reading · 1 year

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(20)

Chain of Gold - Cassandra Clare

( The last hours - book 1/3 )

23rd February 2023

How glamorous the life of a Shadowhunter was, indeed. It sounded good, he thought,.... A special race of warriors, descended from an angel, gifted with powers ... No one ever mentioned things like accidentally kneeling on a dead bird while waiting for a demon to turn up.

Christopher looked up from his notebook. "Speaking of the demon-" "Which we weren't," Matthew pointed out... "I saved some of its ichor," said Christopher, producing from somewhere on his person a corked test tube full of a greenish substance. "I caution all of you not to drink any of it." "I can assure you we had no plans to do any such thing, you daft boot," said Thomas... James raised his glass and toasted with Matthew. Christopher was about to clink his test tube against James's glass when Matthew, muttering imprecations, confiscated it and handed Christopher a glass of hock instead.

"... Father's diagnosed him and he says it's definitely love"

A bad law is no law

... Sleeping Beauty's least successful suitor.

"Carpe decanter," said Matthew.

... a visit to Hades.

It was always better to know the truth.

Sona looked slightly horrified. "Cordelia has a tendency to throw herself into every situation headlong," she said to Tessa and Will. "I'm sure you understand." "Oh, we do," said Will. "We're always speaking very sternly to our children about that very thing. 'If you don't throw yourself into situations headlong, James and Lucie, you can expect bread and water for supper again."

"... I think of each social occasion as a battle to be entered, myself. And I always wear my armour."

A demon lunged for Alastair: Cordelia brought Cortana down in a great curving arc, severing its head. Alastair looked peevish. "Really," he said. "I could have done that on my own." Cordelia considered killing Alastair, but there was no time-someone was screaming.

A world where small things mattered.

"It seems somehow blasphemous to use Marks to rid oneself of the effects of alcohol," Matthew added,... "I've seen you use your stele to part your hair," said James dryly, ... "The Angel gave me this hair," replied Matthew. "It's one of the Shadowhunters' gifts. Like the Mortal Sword." "Now that is blasphemy," said Thomas.

"The last time I saw you shocked was when that Iblis demon was sending Christopher love letters."

"I'm capable of anything!" James made a grab for Christopher's bow; ... Thomas rolled his eyes. "He's going to say, 'Because I'm a Herondale,' isn't he?"... James turned his fiercest glare on the others. "I am a Herondale," he said.

...the distant past when the two of them had been able to settle their differences by hitting each other over the head with toy teakettles.

"Best to let people believe what they want to believe, in my experience."

"It is time for us to do what we do best." "Drink?" said Matthew. "Be charming," said Anna.

"... Do not confuse conditioning with a native inability."

"It isn't ugly," he said. "It's just unusual."

"Demons vanished," said Matthew,... "The leader seemed to feel it was an old friend of James's grandfather." "Oh, the demony grandfather?" said Christopher. "Yes, obviously the demony one, Christopher," said James. "The other one's Welsh," said Thomas,..

Do not let those who cannot see the truth tell you who you are.

...the cure for worry was to throw yourself into activity,...

"... After all, what are rules for if not to be broken?"

"I remember the tea you made me at Cirenworth," he said. "It tasted of flowers." Sona brightened. "Yes. A spoonful of rosewater, that's the secret to good chai." ... "... my mother might be equally enthused over any eligible bachelor who pretended an interest in tea..." ... "I really do like tea!" James shouted from the bottom of the steps. "In fact, I love it! I LOVE TEA!" "Good for you, mate!" yelled the driver of a passing hansom cab.

Magnus said cheerfully. "Now you're fiddling with a Pyxis. I see you have decided to follow in the long Herondale tradition of poor decision-making." "So have I!" said Lucie, determined not to be left out.

"... There is no better distraction in this world than losing oneself in books for a while."

"... You are who you are, made by the sum of your choices and actions..."

"This place is a rathole. Actually, I wouldn't wish it on a rat." "That is because you like rats," said Thomas. "Remember Marie?" Marie Curie had been a small white rat Christopher had kept in the room at the Devil Tavern...

"... You decide the truth about yourself. No one else. And the choice about what kind of person you will be is yours alone."

"I am completely out of patience. The bank of patience is exhausted! I am not even being extended any patience on credit!..."

"...we can always arrange nothing, if you prefer. Nothing is my favourite thing to arrange. It takes so little effort."

"I loved my father when I was a child,"... "I thought he was the best man I'd ever known. Then when I discovered he had squandered all our money at the gaming tables, I thought he was the worst man I'd ever known. Now that I am myself a father, I know that he was simply a man."

Oh, dear, Magnus thought. I may need to linger in London a bit longer. Perhaps I should send for my cat.

0 notes

olivia200312 · 3 years

Text

Prime Missing~ TFP! Optimus x Half-Predacon! Reader *Request*

Requested by the lovely CreatorCat

Plot: Hi there! Could I please request a TFP Optimus x half Cybertronian and half Predacon female Autobot reader? Only Optimus knows she is like that. Her Predacon form is a dragon and her vehicle form is a mustang car (Wildstyle colors from Lego Movie). Her fighting style is dancing (dance fighting, usually coordinated with music only she can hear in her earpiece, unpredictable). It takes place during Beast Wars where they meet Ultra Magnus. Optimus goes missing and the reader is very upset because she has a crush on the Prime.

Ultra Magnus grows a crush on her after seeing her fight in battle. He is concerned she'll get hurt because her style doesn't fall into the protocol and can't be monitored. He forbids her from joining the ranks in battle until she 'shaded up'. The reader is devasted and falls into sort of depression because that she wouldn't be able to dance or fight anymore and that was what she lived for. Optimus returns (finally) to find his crush (the reader) not herself anymore. They have been 'broken' and fight the way that Ultra Magnus saw fit. He's horrified because this wasn't 'his Y/N' and confronted Ultra Magnus. Afterward, Optimus takes the reader aside and confesses and she smiles for the first time in 'forever'. The next battle she's in, she breaks protocol and does her original style of fighting much to everyone's happiness (except Ultra Magnus). She also reveals her Predacon side to protect everyone from the Decepticons and Predaking.

What do you think?

That's a long request ever since I got a request to write a high school version. Lol. So, I read the entire text here and began to think. Do not think it is a bad way. I absolutely love the request but however, I don't like a few things. I'm not familiar with Beast Wars at all. I know only like literally one character and that is Optimal Primal. He is in fact the new Prime in Power of the Primes after Optimus' death. Don't believe me? Watch the 10 episodes or follow the OC book that I'm working on since I'm partnered up with Alita-One and others on Quotev. Furtonaly, I don't like Beast Wars at all since it's different. I also couldn't help but cringe a bit since it's TFP playing in Beast Wars. I remember some clips and scenes where Optimus actually goes missing after the base got exploded and Ultra Magnus appearing. I also remember Predacon's Rising.

Also since I don't like hurting other lovely characters (either rejected or friend-zoned), I made Ultra Magnus different. He'll be not crushing on the reader, but don't worry, he'll get tasted with his own medicine. Revenge will arrive.

Head area:

Brain: Processor / Brain Module

Head: Helm

Face: Face plate

Ears: Audio receptors / Receptor Orifice / Audials

Nose: Enstril / Olfactory Sensor

Eye brow: Optical Ridge

Eyes: Optics

Mouth: Intake

Lips: Dermas

Teeth: Denta/Dentas

Tongue: Glossa

Chest area:

Chest: Chassis / Thoraxal Cavity

Back: Hexa-Lateral Scapula

Spine: Bipedalism cord / Back Strut

Chest and back armour:

Chest plate

Back plate

Mid-section plating

Neck guard

Side plating

Arm area:

Arms: Arms / Restarlueus

Forearms: Bitarlueus

Hands: Servos

Fingers: Digits

Arm armour:

Gantlets

Shoulder pads

Arm guard

Lower area:

Pelvis: Pelvis

Butt: Aft / Skid-Plate

Thighs: Tibulen

Calves: Cadulen

Feet: Pedes - the high heel bits are called Struts or Heel Struts.

Lower armour:

Skirt plates

Aft plate / Skid plate

Thigh guard

Ankle guard

General/Internal components:

Muscles: Cables / Pistons - It depends on the area in question.

Veins: Fual lines

Stomach: Tanks

Lungs: Vents - used to stop the con/bot from over heating.

Heart: Spark

Tattoos: D-con/A-bot Insignias and the lark

T-Cog: The thing that allows all Cybertronians to transform, be that their arms or their whole body.

Bonus:

Penis: Spike

Vagina: Valve

Body: Frame

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

"Jack, meet Ultra Magnus," Arcee introduced her human partner to the missing commander of the Autobots.

Jack looked shocked as he took a look at Ultra Magnus. He was light blue while Optimus was dark blue. The commander had a strict look on his faceplate. What was his problem? Sure, there was a war still going on because since Cybertron, the home planet of the Cybertronians, including the Autobots, Decepticons, and the Predacons, was dead so the idiotic Decepticons moved the war towards Earth when they discovered that the Autobots had been hiding there. Honestly, Megatron was too evil and stupid for actually settling the war on Earth. Earth! The planet was involved in many wars already, especially WWI and WWII.

But let's get to the point: what's been happening?

Well, the Decepticons discovered where the Autobots had been hiding. Before it got blown up, Optimus ordered everyone to leave the base and a serious warning: don't use the phone to call or send anything. If they do, then the Decepticons can track your signal, which can lead a serious danger. Jack went with Arcee, Miko with Bulkhead, and finally Raf with Bumblebee. Eventually, the base got exploded. Optimus got seriously wounded that Smokescreen found him. He was a smart rookie for hiding him so that Optimus can possibly heal and be safely hidden. Sadly, the damage was too much that Optimus was slowly offlining. He didn't want to leave, especially not Y/N. She was a half-Predacon and half-Cybertronian. She was an Autobot. So, it means that Y/N's carrier or sire was a Predacon while the other was Cybertronian. She was found wounded in a forest by Optimus and he took her to the Autobots base. Poor Y/N... She remembered how scared she was when she was there. I mean, she was wounded, lost on Earth, and didn't know anyone. She lost her creators thanks to the war. She eventually learned fast how to take care of herself.

When Optimus met her, he couldn't help but thought that Y/N was a unique and beautiful femme he'd ever seen. I mean, she was half-Cybertronian and half-Predacon. He had seen full Predacons before like Predaking. Soon, he'll meet Darksteel and Skylynx who were brothers. Y/N had wings and a tail so she was very unique. She was thankful to fly and control her balance more. The human kids loved Y/N. Miko, of course, asked too many questions that at one point, Jack and Raf had to stop her since they noticed when Y/N got uncomfortable and scared.

But anyway, that all happened before the big explosion. Optimus grew in fact closer to Y/N that he was the only one at the base who Y/N trusted. She would stay by his side, help him and ask questions. Optimus gladly helped her whenever she was scared or asked questions. He also found her adorable in secret. He sometimes asked himself about her like her wings for example. Were they sensitive? Maybe they were? He will only know if he touched it. If Y/N ever allowed it.

While Y/N was with the Autobots, it didn't mean that she met everyone. She didn't meet Ultra Magnus at the time. He was a strict commander of the Autobots and was light blue and red. His vehicle was very similar to the Prime. His shoulderplates were weird, kinda. No disrespect. But oh boy, Y/N hated Magnus. When he saw her, he was only coldhearted and strict towards her. Y/N's fighting style was dancing but the commander didn't like it that he forbid her to do so. It was like this:

The Autobots just came back after a fight again with the Decepticons. The fight was brutal this time. Apparently, the Decepticons had a new 'weapon' and it was a full Predacon! It was a male and in fact, the ruler of the race when they went instinct many years ago thanks to Megatron himself. Shockwave managed to bring the king back from the dead. His name was Predaking. He was huge! After all, he was a male and a ruler. Since Y/N was half-Predacon, she actually can't transform. Some Cybertronians who were half-Predacons, couldn't actually transform. Some can, some couldn't. Y/N didn't mind that she couldn't transform. She liked how she looked, even having a Predacon tail and wings.

But everyone was wounded. Y/N fought against the male Predacon himself. Their fight was rough and they bit and clawed. But Y/N managed to trick him by dancing. Fighting was a little bit of dancing if you didn't know. You were moving and using your whole frame. It was exhausting for Y/N, but she won.

Ultra Magnus, however, didn't like her fighting style that he brought her into a private chamber. He closed the door and faced her, with his usual strict expression. "Soldier, I want you to change the style."

Y/N lifted her optical ridge up in confusion. What did the commander mean by that? Her armor? Her outgoing? What was it? "What do you mean?"

"Change your fighting style. Also, I forbid you from ever going to fight with us."

Y/N couldn't believe what she heard. Was he really serious? Was he going to forbid her from going out to fight? But what about Optimus Prime? He still wasn't found! He was missing ever since the big explosion that the Decepticons caused weeks ago. The human kids spread around together with their guardians and they weren't allowed to not use any technology or else the Decepticons will track them down. Jack, stupid enough, used his cellphone to text his mother that he was fine. It was understandable for a kid to text its parent to let them know that they were fine. But when it came to the war between the Autobots and the Decepticons, then it was important to listen to the advice.

Ultra Magnus simply left the private chamber, leaving the poor half-Predacon femme alone.

That's basically how it happened. Ever since that day, Y/N didn't come out a lot from her berthroom. She was very spark broken ever since the strict commander told her those words. He forbid her from searching Optimus, who was still missing at the moment. How could he say that? Y/N cared deeply for Optimus just like the entire team. He was their leader but also someone that would protect others and be willing to sacrifice his life.

Y/N would only recharge all day. She ate and drank of course but it wasn't a lot like she used. Basically, how a normal Cybertronian ate. If you didn't know, humans can die from broken hearts. It was in fact a Broken heart syndrome, also known as stress cardiomyopathy or takotsubo syndrome. It was very sad to have that like heart disease. Not only humans can have that syndrome but also Cybertronians, especially the Predacons, full or not. Y/N attracted that syndrome. Everyone says that action speaks louder than words, but words hurt more than actions. Y/N had shortness of breathing and having chassis pains. That was the most common syndrome of heart disease.

Ratchet, the medic of the team wasn't blind at all and was trained to notice signs of any health problems. Since Y/N was showing those signs, he did the tests and diagnosed her with Broken Heart Syndrome or should I say Broken Spark Syndrome? Ratchet kept a close optic on her and made her take medication, especially if she showed signs of chassis pains and shortness of breath.

But meanwhile in the main room of the base...

Ratchet was updating Y/N's health on the Cybertronian computer since it was important for the medics to keep new updates so that they can keep the information. There was actually no standard treatment for the syndrome that Y/N had, but you can survive with medication and as long as you're being careful. Not only do doctors like Ratchet keep updates safe but also dentists as well. Ratchet was mad at Ultra Magnus for saying hurtful words but kept it quiet. It was time that others should watch out for what comes out of their mouths. Words can damage someone and give an illness. He began to ask himself how would Optimus react if he found out about that...

Bumblebee then walked up to Ratchet and beeped a question at him.

Ratchet signed and looked over his shoulderplate. "No, Bumblebee. Y/N is still a little bit weak to come out. I am doing the best I can to help her on track. But her syndrome doesn't have a standard treatment. Just like on humans."

Bumblebee frowned and let out a sad whirl. He saw Y/N as his good friend and cared for her as a friend. He was mad at the commander for saying those words that he nearly attacked her. Didn't the idiotic commander notice at all how much he damaged her? Why was he even doing this?! Just because she was a half-Predacon!? Bumblebee clenched his fists in anger as he started to shake.

Ratchet, being a smart aft medic, noticed it and quickly placed his servo on the scout's shoulderplate. "Easy, Bumblebee." Just as Ratchet wanted to say something further, his computer caught a signal. He quickly went to the device and Bumblebee looked curiously over his shoulderplate.

"Hahaha!" Ratchet began to laugh and clapped his servos happily. That caught everyone's attention as they walked up to him, except Y/N, who was still sadly in her berthroom to rest. She did hear Ratchet's happy laugh, which was confusing, but she didn't bother to check since she felt weak. Ratchet turned around fast with a big smile on his faceplate. "Optimus is alive!"

That caused everyone to cheer happily. Y/N fell asleep at that time. She didn't hear Ratchet's loud voice that said that Optimus was alive and coming soon to the base.

2 hours later~

"Awesome! Optimus is now like 2.0!" Miko happily jumped as she was fascinated by Optimus' new look.

"It's good to have you back, Optimus," Arcee said with a smile.

Everyone was saying how happy they were to see and have Optimus Prime back. The leader was smiling as he listened to everyone with respect. He was happy to see them as well. Even though he was almost offline for good, he thought about others, especially Y/N. But wait, where was she? He saw his friends but not Y/N. He frowned. What happened to her while he was missing? He wondered about her every day. He nearly did join the AllSpark and taking the servo of his mentor, Alpha Trion. The old smart mech understood his student's decision. He even teased Optimus to get the spark of the half-Predacon. He blushed.

Ratchet seem to realize Optimus' frown and he immediately knew that it was about Y/N. He walked up to his leader. "Optimus, I have to speak to you. It's urgent."

Optimus nodded in understanding. Of course, he heard Ratchet's serious tone, which meant that he was deadly serious, especially for being a medic. His job was to take care of others and help if needed. They both went to a private chamber to speak while others stayed. Ultra Magnus, however, got a bad feeling...

Ratchet closed the door and turned to face Optimus. "Optimus, while you were gone, others had a fight against the Decepticons. They had a new 'weapon' it was a full Predacon... a mech. He's named Predaking, the ruler of the Predacons. Y/N fought against him. I must say, I am impressed with her fighting moves. Dancing. Ultra Magnus didn't like her style at all. I saw them going to a private chamber. I learned from Y/N that Magnus forbid her from going out and he forced her to change her style..." He sighed and took a deep breath. "As a result, Y/N has Broken Heart Syndrome, also known as stress cardiomyopathy or takotsubo syndrome in humans. But I called it the Broken Spark Syndrome. She has trouble breathing and having chassis pains. I made her take medication."

Optimus couldn't believe what he heard. How could Ultra Magnus do this? He was getting angry. The commander took it too far by his words. He look calmy at Ratchet and nodded. "Thank you for the information old friend. I will speak to commander Ultra Magnus and see Y/N."

Ratchet nodded back and they left the private chamber. Ultra Magnus knew that he was busted. Optimus slowly walked up to the commander, with a disappointed and angry expression on his faceplate. He took the commander to somewhere private and let's just say that Optimus was so stern. He also finally punished the commander for what he said to Y/N. Ratchet was satisfied and mumbled under his breath: "As humans say: 'Get rekt'."

Optimus then walked through the hallway corridors, searching for Y/N's berthroom. Each bot had a nameplate hanging against the door. It was easier for everyone to find each other, except for humans since they were so small. But good that the kids remembered which room was who. They drew small symbols on each door of the bot. Ratchet got a symbol of a doctor, Bumblebee got a bee, Arcee a motorcycle, etc. Y/N had a dragon, even though she couldn't transform into a Predacon.

Optimus knocked on the door gently as he found Y/N's door. After no response, he softly opened the door and peaked in. He smiled softly once he saw Y/N recharging peacefully. But he was still worried about her health after all. He walked to Y/N, closing the door softly to not wake her up. He caressed her helm with his gentle digits and he smiled once he heard her purr. Predacons can purr a lot. Yes, even Optimus can too but not a lot like the Predacons can, even half ones. Optimus continued to caress as he sat down carefully, lifting Y/N's helm and laid it on his lap. For some reason, laps were so comfy. No wonder humans and Cybertronians fall asleep easily, even falling asleep on someone's body. It was so cute when a male slept on top of the female as a couple or friends. Family too. But mostly, females slept on top of the males.

Y/N softly moaned in her sleep as she moved a bit. She felt very comfortable. But that's when she groaned and had trouble breathing. She panted and Optimus got worried. He then noticed the medication on her nightstand. He grabbed it and then Y/N gasped and sat up, her servo on her chassis.

"Easy, Y/N," the familiar deep voice said.

Y/N snapped her helm towards the very familiar deep voice and gasped. it was Optimus! Wait, he was really here?! She was about to say something but Optimus silenced her by cupping her cheekplate, causing her to blush a lot. He helped her take the medication and soon, she breathed normally. But she felt then sleepy again. Optimus noticed it and softly pushed her down. "Recharge, Y/N. Your body needs more rest."

Y/N smiled softly and fell asleep. She can now catch a lot of rest since Optimus was alive and well. She found him more handsome. His new look, now strong body, etc. But she loved his hips, smile, voice, and smirk. As she was sleeping, she felt soft dermas on hers. Optimus was kissing her, just like in the movie Sleeping Beauty.

I apologize if it isn't familiar a lot. I decided to try and make it a little cuter for the fans, especially the ending part.

#optimus prime #transfomers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus prime #fluff #one shot #romance #x reader #reader #x predacon reader #broken heart syndrome #comfort #missing #optimus prime x reader

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grasslandgirl · 2 years

Text

casey shouldn’t be allowed to rec things to me anymore bc she knows me and my tastes TOO WELL at this point and then does something like friend-bullies me into playing a video game that is rotting my fucking skull its TOO savcore she knows me TOO WELL

list of thoughts that are rattling around in my brain bc of this Video Game

- hands

- gay people

- time loop media

- names vs nicknames vs titles (in a literal sense) vs titles (in a narrative sense)

- the big guy his little face magnus burnsides character archetype

- the fucked up gender dude w eye shit and suicidal ideation character archetype

- genre awareness

- sav projection character

- found family

- the power of love (and when it fails)

- hands again (in the context of fights vs a kind touch vs the concept of reaching out)

- how a time loop Changes You

- change as a THEME in GENERAL

- sense of Otherness within and because of the narrative

- NARRATIVE AWARENESS

- hands again but louder (gloves gloves gloves gloves gloves. #1 way to make me insane abt a character? put them in gloves)

- character memory vs game memory vs player/audience memory (what does the game remember that you dont? what has the character forgotten because of YOU? what does the character REMEMBER because of you? what does the game)

- he is my big little guy i want to hold him i want to hold his hand i want to watch the hand hold scene over and over again

- name meanings

- the power of both Knowing and Using a name (whats the difference? which is right? which is more powerful? when?)

- what is the title and what is the character and what is the archetype and what is the Self and who gets to choose which is which and did they choose their titles and when and why

- who did they save and why and how and how did it change the dynamics

- when the main character isn’t the protagonist, and when the protagonist isn’t the main character (these are different)

- when the narrator isn’t the protagonist or the main character

- the Game is Paying Attention

- sav projection character again, but sad this time

- (sav can have a little projection. sav can have a little hope that people will see and people will notice and people will reach out and people will wait and people will care.)

- the characters are Paying Attention

- when the right choices are the wrong ones

- when the wrong choices are the right ones

- litanies. the power of repeating (a phrase a day a moment a touch a day a life a journey a death- over and over and over and)

- are you paying attention?

- breath. oh. ah. you take a breath. moments where the character breathes (and you read it and you remember you’re breathing, and you inhale exhale with them and oh. oh.)

- as always,

- hands (nail polish)

- rest. when does a character rest. do they ever get to.

- every story is a circle and the characters are the ghosts. this is a haunted house and you’re inside it too

- time loop as corruption vs time loop as labyrinth (go read over & through. iykyk)

- everything repeats (except when it doesn’t) everything is the same (except when it isn’t) you’re making the right choices (but what happens when there’s a new outcome?)

- is it even a new outcome at all? or do you just not remember?

- calroy steak man legs

- a whole grilled fish head raw dogging it in the kid’s pocket (lots of crumbs)

- star over. start again. start over. start again. the game keeps going.

- a PROLOGUE. ITS A PROLOGUE. ITS ALLLLLL A PROLOGUE.

- AS. ALWAYS. (being familiar doesn’t change it. remembering doesn’t change it. being the same doesn’t bring comfort.)

- people notice and people care and they’ll help if you let them

- (will you let them? will they try to help, next time? what if, one day, they don’t try? what if they don’t notice)

- (what if they notice when you don’t want them to?)

- why are you lying. why are you running. they’re your friends. going faster isn’t going to make it faster. why are you here. when did it start.

- Normal. you’re being Normal

- you don’t remember the last time you cried. or ate. or laughed. or slept. (you dont remember)

- (youdontrememberyoudontrememberyoudontremember)

- all the statues of change are broken. why. why is there one that isn’t?

- hands. you want to hold their hands. you don’t ask. his palms are sweaty. hers are calloused against your cheek. you let go, one finger at a time. you forgot you forgot you forgot

- just a lil guy with a lil face just a whole lot of little guys

- im normal about a video game

#NORMAL IM FEELING VERY NORMAL #sasasap #video game. this is a video game.#im putting this here bc chlo and casey are asleep and its 1am and my brain is full of hornets #but. anyway. HRGHRHFHFGHRHFHGRRGHGRHGHRFHGHR #apologies that this doesnt make sense. im sleepy and im having too many thoughts atm #fighter [handshake] olu = Guy With A Crush #jim [handshake] sif = yeah #sasasap + o&t is smth that can be SOOOOO crunchy to casey and i and casey and i ALONE. sif corruption is soososoosooooo #but ALSO? sif apotheosis. C R U N C H Y

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bamfdaddio · 3 years

Text

X-Men Abridged: 1981

The X-Men, those back-to-the-future mutants that have sworn to protect a world that hates and fears them, are a cultural juggernaut with a long, tangled history. Want to unravel this tapestry? Then read the Abridged X-Men!

(Uncanny X-Men 141 - 152) - by Chris Claremont and John Byrne, Brent Anderson, Dave Cockrum, Jim Sherman, Bob McLeod and Josef Rubinstein

While I also committed various fashion atrocities at the age of 14 (tye-die and fauxhawks, oh my), even Liberace would find Kitty’s outfits too much. (Uncanny X-Men 149; Uncanny X-Men Annual ‘81)

We dial back from the v. epic scope of the last few arcs. Instead, 1981 is just a lot of fun! We get:

Storm and Emma doing a Freaky Friday!

the X-Men vs. Magneto (again!)

A surprisingly effective Alien rip-off

An dystopian future! (OoOoOoOo)

Last year was the year of the Dark Phoenix, this is the year of Kitty Pryde. That’s not to say Jean’s death is swept under the rug: all throughout, we see her friends mourning her loss or remembering her fondly. (Scott even gets to have a demonic adventure about it.) But in general, Claremont puts Kitty in the forefront, fleshing out his YA-addition to the team. And what would a YA heroine be without a grim dystopia? Roll out the iconic Days of Future Past!

To be fair, 2013 was a dark time for all of us: What Does the Fox Say somehow got to the top of the charts and I was still watching Glee. (Uncanny X-Men 141)

How cool would it have been to see a name like Jonothon Starsmore or Eva Bell on those tombstones?

Anyway, that’s Kate. Kate’s had it rough. Mutants are at the bottom of the foodchain, most X-Men are dead and only a small cadre of resistance fighters remain, Sentinels dominate, and while she is married to Piotr, her children have been murdered. Bleak. Luckily, the rebellion has concocted the plan to shunt Kate’s spirit back in time to prevent this awful future from happening. (You’ve seen Days of Future Past, the last passably good X-Men film, you know what’s up.)

Let’s do the time warp again! 1981!Kitty’s mind gets taken over by 2013!Kitty, who promptly tries to convince the X-Men that a new Brotherhood of v. Evil Mutants will try to kill Senator Kelly, a presidential candidate who tries to put the mutant menace on the agenda. (Mutants tend to blow stuff up when he’s around.) Since the X-Men recently took a literal trip to Dante’s Infero and also befriended a cosmic world-ending entity, they basically shrug and go: “Yeah, this checks out.”

Off to Washington they go (zoommm) and there, they happen upon the Baddest Bitches in Herstory:

“How dare you hate mutants, senator Kelly! We’ll fix that by killing you!” (Uncanny X-Men 141)

This All-New, All-Different Brotherhood consists out of:

Destiny, a blind woman who can see the future. Definitely the eeriest member of this group. Badass lesbian, though that won´t be canon for years.

Avalanche. Greek who makes things shake. Is a long-standing member of the X-Men Rogue’s gallery, but rarely features in the spotlight. I think he got more characterization in four years of X-Men Evolution than he ever did in the comics.

Mystique. Shapeshifter. Ruthless and unhinged, the Cersei Lannister of the X-Men universe. Absolute legend, secretly the wife of Destiny, currently not as unhinged as she’ll be later. Immediately implied to be related to Nightcrawler: it’s the yellow-eyes-blue-skin-combo.

Pyro. Can manipulate fire, not create it. Absolute pillock, in all the best ways of the word. Originally intended as gay, but they decided to make him Australian instead. (?!)

Blob. Big, strong, immovable. We’ve seen him before.

One of the details in this fight I enjoy is that Storm is still struggling with her leadership, although she has a better grip on things than Cyclops:

Wolverine then proceeds to use those iconic but deadly claws about twice per issue for the next, oh, forty years. (Uncanny X-Men 142)

While the X-Men fight the Brotherhood in the present, we cut back and forth to the future. There, the X-Men consist out of some familiar faces - Storm, Colossus, Wolverine - and some surprises: Magneto (in a wheelchair), Franklin Richards (son of) and an unfamiliar ginger girl called Rachel. (She’ll be important later.) We even learn (one of) Magneto’s names: this is the first time he’s canonically called Magnus.

One of the strengths of Days of Future Past lies in its brevity, the way it tantalizingly taunts us with a brutal but familiar future without giving away too much. It’s single-handedly responsible for all those dark future timelines the X-lines are so fond of which will eventually culminate in time-displaced grandsons from alternative dimensions and the impossibility of a succinct answer to the question: “Who’s Cable?” Too much of a good thing and all that.

Still, what Days of Future Past does so successfully is:

Put the idea of the mutant menace back at the forefront, hammering home the metaphor of mutants being a minority. Mutants being put in camps and being forbidden to breed should - regretfully - make us think of all too many real life equivalents. (Specifically, all of the imagery harkens back to the Holocaust.)

It starkly shows what happens should the X-Men lose, reminding everyone of the stakes. The X-Men are here for a reason: bridging the gap between mutants and humankind. If they fuck up, we end up with mutant concentration camps.

It helps that the X-Men in the future almost all die horribly: Franklin is incinerated, Storm is impaled… It's brutal stuff. The only one to survive is Rachel, who wonders if their plan actually changed the future or if they created an alternative timeline. (It did the latter, sorry ‘bout it, Rachel.)

In the present, Kate chases after Destiny, who trains a gun on senator Kelly. I always wondered how this works: if Destiny saw the future, she knew that killing Kelly would trigger a terrifying future. What in the current Marvel timeline made her decide that the Days of Future Past was better? Did she see her own death? Did she see the Onslaught-crossover coming? The Chuck Austen run? What was it?

In any case, time-anomalous Kate stops Destiny from killing Kelly and the future is safe! For now. Kate disappears, Kitty returns to her body and some of the Brotherhood are apprehended. All is well, for now.

After being a key figure in DoFP, Kitty is also the main character in the Christmas special, which is basically a straight up horror and a pastiche of the Alien-movie.

Seriously, John Byrne still isn’t sure why he wasn’t sued by Ridley Scott for this. (Uncanny X-Men 143)

If you love Kitty Pryde? Read this issue. If you’re not convinced you like 80’s Kitty? Read this issue. It’s not continuity relevant and it’s basically Kitty playing the part of a Final Girl in a horror where she’s being chased by a demon, but it’s so good. It showcases all her strengths and her foibles. Kitty’s intelligent, cute (sometimes preciously so) and brave, but she’s also young, self-conscious and hot-headed. And it's not as if the other X-Men automatically adore her: Storm berates her all the time, she’s afraid of Kurt because of the way he looks (though she grows out of that) and she fights with Professor Xavier a lot. Moreover, she has a clever power-set for a young superhero who faces menaces on a daily basis: a thirteen year old who can go intangible is far less likely to have reality ensue on her and be dramatically offed because she's better at protecting herself.

I’m sure there are people who thought Sprite was hogging the spotlight, but I, for one, say she brings more to the table than, say, Angel. She’s not the Dawn Summers of this franchise.

Scott also gets a side quest. Poor guy can’t catch a break: first the love of his life dies, so he quits the X-Men, then he realizes he can’t do much else than be a superhero. He becomes a sailor on the ship of spunky captain Lee Forrester, is drawn into the sadistic plans of a demon unironically named D’Spayre and then shipwrecks in Bermuda with Lee.

The X-Men, meanwhile, are tormented by a team-up of Doom (who’s currently Latverialess and working on a comeback) and Arcade, that annoying crony. Locke, Arcade’s dom, has kidnapped the loved ones of the X-Men (Moira MacTaggart, Jean Grey’s parents, Illyana Rasputin and Amanda Sefton) in order to blackmail them into getting Doom to free Arcade. Apparently, Arcade accidentally insulted Doom and DOOM DOES NOT FORGIVE THAT FOLLY.

While the B-Squad (Polaris, Havok, Banshee and Iceman) goes to save Arcade’s hostages, the X-Men sneak into Doom’s castle. Well, except for Storm, who doesn’t give a single fuck and simply flies up to Doom, demanding an audience. Doom likes the cut of her jib and invites her to have dinner. (This is pre-Tinder, so this is a legit way of scoring a date.)

If Storm has a flaw (I said if!), it’s got to be her atrocious taste in men. (Uncanny X-Men 145)

The X-Men find Arcade’s cell empty, while Arcade casually saunters up to Storm and says hi. Storm realizes too late that this is a trap: while the X-Men are all trapped in Saw-like traps, Storm is encased in ‘living chrome’.

If you remember she’s claustrophobic, you know why this is a bad move.

While the X-Men free themselves from their traps - Polaris hilariously has to deal with a murderous merry-go-round - Storm is slowly driven mad in her prison, triggering a worldwide tempest. (She causes Lee and Scott to shipwreck.) Under the threat of Wolverine’s claws, Doom releases Storm - or rather, unleashes her.

“Instead of a Dark Lord, you would have a queen, not dark but beautiful and terrible as the dawn! Tempestuous as the sea, and stronger than the foundations of the earth! All shall love me and despair!” (Uncanny X-Men 147)

The memory of Jean brings Ororo back to herself and she starts undoing the superstorm she created. (If only climate change were reversed that easily.) Their confrontation ends by Storm easily forgiving Doom, because she apparently trespassed on his grounds without adequate cause.

Mkay.

All of Arcade’s hostages return to their homesteads, except for Illyana Rasputin, Piotr’s sister: she’s staying at the mansion for a while. Angel, who’s sort of been a part of the team since the Phoenix thing, has had it with Wolverine and his ‘tude, and decides to quit the X-Men : he doesn’t want to be a part of an outfit that has a killer like Wolverine on it. (Or maybe he’s just mad Claremont didn’t give him any storylines: his presence has been mostly pointless.) It’s too bad he left before Kitty started experimenting with her outfits: I bet he would have loved her ugly-ass costumes.

Equally inconsequential is the introduction of a brand new character, who then proceeds to disappear from the narrative for the rest of the year:

Black Tom has tried to kill you at least twice, but him sending you a long-lost daughter doesn’t give you pause? Ugh, Sean, you deserve Moira. (Uncanny X-Men 148)

Intrigued by Theresa? TOO BAD, WON’T SEE HER AGAIN ANYTIME SOON.

Another new character is the lonely, decidedly mutant looking Caliban, who can sense “people like him” and is on the lookout for companions. Like many lonely people who try and grasp at friendship, he decides to overshoot his shot and ruin the night of Storm, Kitty and Jessica Drew at a Dazzler concert. Because he tries to kidnap Kitty, the girls react a trifle aggressively. When they realize their mistake - the eerily pale Caliban is a simpleton rather than a menace - he’s already fled. No mention is made of the Morlocks yet!

There’s also another dull annual where the X-Men team up with the Fantastic Four to save Arkon’s dimension from the Badoon and yaaaaawn. Far more interesting is the landmark issue #150. Slowly, through the adventures of Scott and Lee Forrester, Claremont has been setting things up for the return of a favorite villain. While the X-Men investigate Magneto’s old base in Antarctica on a hunch of Professor X and tangle with Garruk, Scott and Lee survive Storm’s tempest, only to wake up next to a strange island that seems to have been raised from the ocean.

It’s apparently some ancient citadel from a long forgotten civilization with a fondness for squid statues. (I don’t know man, I’ve never been to the Bermuda Triangle, maybe this is just super-accurate.)The tentacles make Lee Forrester feel very amorous, but before Scott can tell her he is way too repressed to just have sex with an attractive someone he’s known intimately for a month or two, Magneto saves his ass by revealing he, in fact, raised this island from the seafloor.

Oh, Magneto. So extra.

My ambitious little mutant demagogue then proceeds to take the entire world hostage, showing how much he’s grown from the pompous, raving madman from the sixties. (Sure, Magneto is still a bit of a madman, but increasingly, he starts being on the right side of history.)

“I’m trying to make Magneto more sympathetic.”

“Just put him on a page with some bigger villains who are less noble, like the Vanisher, Count Nefaria, or…”

“Reagan, Thatcher and Brezhnov?”

“Er.” (Uncanny X-Men 150)

It’s obvious Magneto is being pivoted as a more noble villain, codified into the well-intentioned extremist we know and love today. Not only do we get the first hints at his past, fleshing out his motivations, he’s also not wrong. Humans are historically not great at taking care of the planet or each other.

When the Russians call his bluff and launch nukes at Magneto’s new island, he quickly disarms them. His retribution is swift and ferocious: the entire citadel is a machine that massively amplifies his powers. He sinks the submarine that launched the missiles, condemning the entire crew to death, and he casually erects a vulcano in a Russian city in Siberia.

Damn. Not messing around this time.

Despite his good intentions, Magneto is still definitely in the wrong: not only because of his methods, but as Scott points out: if Magneto unifies the world under his kind of benevolent dictatorship, all of that will simply fall apart as soon as Magnus dies.

In a way, Magneto is just as big a dreamer as Charles is: Charles believes in peace and integration, whereas Magneto believes his iron fist will be enough to make a perfect world happen. Both of them ignore the reality that acceptance is difficult and messy, because you’re trying to change essential human nature: the fear of the other. Magneto believes in big, sweeping gestures that will fix the world in move, while changing the world is also boring, hard work. One step forward, two steps back. Magneto just wants to leapfrog to his ultimate goal.

The X-Men fly over the citadel, returning from Antarctica, and their plane crashes into the ocean. (Magneto does not brook planes over his territory, humans!) The Professor is also nearby, looking for Scott with Moira, Peter Corbeau and Carol Danvers. The X-Men sneak onto the island, but to their horror, their powers are nullified by some machine of Magneto. They reunite with Scott, who formulates a plan to thwart the would-be ruler of the world.

While the rest of the X-Men go to trash the machine, Storm, Kitty and Lee infiltrate the control chamber where Storm finds a sleeping, shirtless Magneto. Once again showing her terrible taste in men, she is not weak in the knees at the sight of a sleeping Magnus: instead, she contemplates killing him.

Storm knows how dangerous he is, but she also knows that he’s a great man who’s fighting for ideals, no matter how misguided. She hesitates too long: Magneto stirs, suspects an attack and tosses her out of the window, to her death.

Magneto quickly undoes the sabotage the other X-Men have wrought to his machine. A fight erupts. Storm, meanwhile, has managed to grab hold of a ledge. She crawls back up and smashes an important-looking computer, restoring everyone’s powers.

The battle turns grim, but Scott sends Kitty away to wreck Magneto’s machinery. She sneaks off, following Scott’s orders and destroying both Magneto's power-up device and all of his plans by phasing though the computer circuitry. Magneto senses this and furiously gives chase. Overcome by rage, he attacks Kitty and disrupts her phasing power with a magnetic bolt, seemingly killing her?

Everything about this story beat is great: mama bear!Ororo, mournful Magnus and even the fact that Kitty’s godawful outfit serves a narrative function: highlighting to us (and Magneto) just how young she is. The fact that Kitty’s Jewish is just icing on the cake. (Uncanny X-Men 150)

And thus, the softening of Magneto commences. 1981 might be a year with wildly varying narratives, but it has given us at least three enduring legacies to the X-Mythos: a new kind of Magneto, a fondness for dystopian futures and the character of Kitty Pryde, who's really come into her own this year.

Ugliest Costume: Kitty! Purposefully, but still. Best costume, by the way, goes to Destiny, with her creepy, creepy golden mask. Just imagine this lady casually strolling across a battlefield, eerily calm and collected, dodging everything you throw at her. Awesome design.

Best new character: I usually pick one character - what good is having a shared award when declaring the best of anything? - but this year, it’s going to one of my favorite couples: Mystique and Destiny. Can’t wait to see more of them.

Most audacious retcon: Blob somehow retroactively becomes a member of the original Brotherhood, which is not what happened. Ever weirder is Xavier pondering that he never met Magneto before his attack in X-Men #1, while their cordially adversarial relationship rooted in a youthful friendship would soon become a cornerstone of the X-Men.

What to read: Uncanny X-Men 141 - 143 and 150 - 152

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voiceless-terror · 3 years

Text

Ep. 192 Spoilers: Jon’s thoughts on the Panopticon, Rosie’s statement, and Jonah Magnus.

Martin says goodbye.

Georgie does not, and neither does Jon. She thinks carefully about the words she speaks, now that she knows their power. Jon appreciates this, here at the end.

There are Archivists (colleagues) in their path, blocking their way. They’re you, they’re what you might become - but they aren’t, because Jon’s managed to do what none of them could. He is the Archive and they are shadows and dust, forever doomed to guard the tower and never truly know the favor of their God. And they will heed his call.

Ceaseless Watcher, see your servants approach. Herald their arrival and bid them welcome into our your sanctum.

They move. Jon and Martin start their climb.

It’s dizzying, their ascent. Jon can feel the power thrumming heavily in his veins as they grow closer. The tunnels, while not so cut off as Upton House, were so numbing. He felt pitiful, mundane, sapped of all energy. And this is his world, isn’t it? He should never have to feel that way. Jon feels guilty for this thought, of course. He’s felt guilty all his life, that will never change. But now he feels powerful, and that is altogether different.

He answers the call, accepts the gentle but insistent tugging. It speeds his steps and devours his fear and it feels so terribly good. There’s a voice but it’s distorted by a familiar static; if he focuses hard Jon thinks he hears Elias’s Jonah’s voice, but he can’t be too sure. It’s all the same now.

Martin calls to him, tells him to slow down. He tempers his excitement, tries to keep it light. Corrects his Shakespeare. He feels guilty for enjoying this, despite his terror. Martin’s his reason. Martin keeps him grounded. Martin’s right behind him- no he isn’t. Jon pauses.

The door that bars them from Elias’s office is the same as it always was, but on a nightmare scale. His fingers itch to reach out, he’s so close, he wants to see but then- of course.

Rosie.

She’s always barred his way. From his time as a researcher, to his promotion as Head Archivist and even now, trapped in a hell of her own making. He regards her with a strange mix of pleasure and pity; she doesn’t deserve this, none of them do. But the familiarity soothes him.

They need an appointment. Martin scoffs, tries to get through to her. Jon insists. She buzzes Jonah with some reluctance, and where Jon expects to hear the crisp, clear voice he knows so well, there is nothing but static.

But Rosie understands this static. Is Jonah even speaking to her? Or is she hearing an echo of times past, an eternal chorus of ‘Send him right in’ or ‘We’ll need to reschedule.’ It would be fitting.

She refuses them once again. Jon relents, drags Martin away. The Eye has a gift for him, one last statement before he sees what could be the face of his God made visible. He never thought much of Rosie, never really knew her.

But now he will.

Jon sees her- a woman fast approaching middle age with nothing but the ruins of a failed marriage and a need to start over guiding her hand. Elias, young but so very old, staring down with cold grey eyes.

So why do you want this job, Ms. Zampano?

How strange. Even after all this time, Jon never knew her last name.

She needs money, she needs something to do, she instead says she’s curious and tells herself it’s a lie but is it, really? She’s always had a wild imagination. Her mind goes to the strangest of places and yet she does nothing, nothing about it.

Jon watches as he enters the picture. So young, he thinks, but then again it had only been two years ago, hadn’t it?

The things they said about him in the break room.

He knew of it peripherally, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Snickers when he passed by a room of former colleagues in an ill-fitting suit, hair gelled within an inch of its life. He remembers he bought new shoes when he got the promotion. They didn’t match any of his clothes. Everyone knew what a fool he was. Once, an email went around, forwarded to him by accident (or perhaps not). The first few replies left a sour taste in his mouth, and he deleted it before finishing. He buried his head in the sand, in more ways than one.

The sort of things that passed across Mr. Bouchard’s desk about him.

Jon wonders how many complaints Elias ignored. He only concerned himself with the most important ones, god forbid they anger the donors. But now he sees the stack filed away in a folder that will never be opened. In a strange, perverse sort of way, Elias was the only one on his side. The only one who wanted him. How sad.

Insecure, aggressive, desperate to be taken seriously.

I don’t want to hear this- but he does and he speaks it for his God to hear and perhaps Martin, only steps away. It sounds like a confession Jon doesn’t mean to make. He knows how pathetic he was, he can’t change it or take it back. Just a bark with no bite, Martin told him in those precious few weeks at the cottage.

He watches as Sasha- that’s Sasha, the real Sasha, scared but brave and angry as she rushed down the corridor. That’s her voice, not clouded by the static of a tape but just in the other room, if only Rosie would open the goddamn door he could finally see her-

But the Eye gives, and the Eye takes away. This is Rosie’s story; not his, not Sasha’s. The worms come, Sasha is gone, Daisy drags him past Rosie and he feels her pang of sympathy more than he sees it; Rosie keeps her face impassive, even when paralyzed with terror. Melanie and Tim- Tim, angry and whole- pass by for but a moment, and Rosie watches, waits, perfect servant of the Eye that she is, perfect backup plan. Nosy Rosie.

Peter Lukas is here, smiling his empty smile but now Peter Lukas is dead, Jon made sure of that. He thinks he understands what Daisy felt; the call of the blood, the satisfaction behind a finished hunt. The thrill of his first kill soon replaced with fear and loathing and oh god, what have I done?

And now here they are. Rosie sits and waits for guests that never come until they do, now there’s two monsters on her doorstep side by unholy side. But Rosie knows monsters well.

Mr. Sims, was it?

Yes, yes! That’s his name. Sometimes he’s shocked to find he still has one. Martin’s Jon is not the same. Sims- that was his father’s name. His mother’s name. His grandmother’s. He can’t put a face to any of them anymore but he wants to hold on to that remnant of his childhood, lonely and sad as it was. His name is Jonathan Sims, and he’s here to see Jonah Magnus.

Jonah Magnus sees. Jonah Magnus can do nothing but see now, forever tangled in his own web of fear made manifest again and again and again, a perpetual cycle, an exquisite agony. It’s a sickness, like Jordan Kennedy said, but it’s a sickness that Jon would weep to have if only for a moment. Jonah got what he wanted, but for all of his Sight he could never know what the outcome of that desire would be. He’s one with the eye now.

He’s won.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29068671

#my writing #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #rosie zampano #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #jonmartin #tma spoilers #mag ep 192 spoilers

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

could you please do more cannibalistic nephilim 🙏🙏🙏🙏

uh so i hope i don't have to warn for what this contains again? but cannibalism is in this so... yeah

also yes! anon ty for this i was just waiting for the right mood to hit because i wanted it to be special ^_^

i mean, anyone can eat another person but lets make it magical?

set in pray to the hunters

lumine

— Magnus stares at his shadowhunter hungrily, wishing he’d got his name before this, because Magnus is starving to taste it on his own tongue.

His shadowhunter is a wonder, with a dark, old power than clings to him tighter than a mother’s arms and more intimate than a lovers embrace. There is blood splattered across his face and chest, gore up to his shoulder and dripping off in clumps from his skin.

He approaches carefully, his blade already tucked away into the holster and he offers the heart to Magnus, casually. As if he isn’t holding a treasure trove a magic in his hands.

Magnus isn’t sure what he’s expected to do with it and — despite how much he likes this particular shadowhunter — he’s not about to risk taking a nephilim heart so obviously. At least, not without insurance.

“I took a kill rightfully yours.” He’s told and he can tell it’s symbolic and he sends a little tingle of his magic out to the warlocks slowly recovering around him. The portal he opens with a twitch of his fingers will take them all to a far more intense safehouse than this one, a safehouse many already thought was overkill.

None of them argue and none of them linger, far too relieved to put as many miles between what was almost a massacre and a still alive, viscera covered shadowhunter.

Circle or not.

When the last are through, Magnus closes the portal and looks to his shadowhunter. There’s been no movement, no question and he’s kept his back turned and one hand up with the heart, the other over his own heart. It’s very clear that he’s keeping his back turned to Magnus’ evacuating people on purpose and Magnus understands then, that his shadowhunter was no so oblivious to the children as it seemed while he was fighting.

Whatever ritual he started — and Magnus knows magic even unfamiliar, alien magic and knows a ritual was done — he doesn’t want them seeing. As soon as the last child is evacuated, he relaxes just minutely.

If Magnus weren’t watching so closely, he wouldn’t catch it, but he is and he did and now he’s intrigued. His nephilim can tell, smirking at him, something clever in the turn of his plush lips.

“You did.” Magnus says, allowing his voice to echo with magic and conducting the next part of whatever ritual is waiting on him. “What do you offer me in return?”

“A boon.”

“I accept.”

Magnus hums at the touch of almost skeletal fingertips caressing and then cupping his beating heart. His shadowhunter’s breath hitches, pupils expanding as the magic hooks into him as well.

There is a pattern here to follow.

His shadowhunter offers and Magnus’ accepts and Magnus is hungry for the next taste of what is being offered.

His shadowhunter brings the heart up and — locking eyes with Magnus — sinks his teeth into the still dripping, undoubtedly warm organ. They must be deceptively sharp, because his teeth slice into the tough muscle and covering him with even more blood.

Magnus wants with a sharp, sudden pang and his magic hums and circles around them, lapping at the edges of the ritual and hungry to be let in once the ceremony is complete.

His shadowhunter chews, swallow and then smirks at Magnus, a devastating intrigue in his eyes and Magnus craves him and he’s already leaning forward, mouth opening as he sinks his own teeth into the heart. There’s delight in his shadowhunter’s eyes, as if truly surprised by Magnus’ daring.

The quiet stays between them as they share bits of the heart and then his hunter — Alexander, the ritual sings between them —starts to pull his hand away after his fingers have pressed the last piece of heart to Magnus’ own mouth.

Magnus grabs his wrist, keeping Alexander’s hand close and he leans forward, wrapping his lips around his shadowhunter’s blood slick fingers. It’s thick, coagulating and it gives Magnus a reason to wrap his tongue around Alexander’s fingers and suck.

His shadowhunter hasn’t stopped eye contact and it means that Magnus gets to see the way his eyes widen in surprise and then the way his lashes flutter, pleasure softening his dark smirk until the edge of it is biting rather than eviscerating.

There’s a soft moan as Magnus finishes, casually nipping at the tip of Alexander’s thumb as he finally lets it free. Alexander’s fingers and palm are cleaner now, pink specked instead of blood soaked sanguine and slick with the claim of Magnus’ mouth.

Alexander takes a breathe, clearing gathering himself and he sways towards where Magnus is still holding his wrist.

“Was the price sufficient?”

Magnus is asked and Magnus thinks, truly considers it for a moment with the taste of nephilim blood on his tongue, his enemies and Alexander’s and with the power of a nephilim heart already boosting his magic.

Magnus thinks carefully, because once he answers the ritual is over and so he bides his time for a moment and then he pulls Alexander even closer and cups his bloody jaw. For a moment, Magnus just looks at him, feeling the magic between them and taking in the blood-soaked divinity tied to him by ritual.

Claiming Alexander’s mouth earns him a muffled whine that has him pressing up into Magnus. It’s such a delight that Magnus releases his jaw, still holding his shadowhunter’s wrist, grips Alexander’s hair at his nape and tugs. There’s a groan and as Magnus finally draws away, his boy pants against his mouth.

“Now, it’s sufficient.”

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters #pray to the hunters

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Hello! I absolutely loved the feelings for the young liaison team kids, may I request some more of those please? With Megs, Roddy and Drift? (Maybe Cyclonus, if you don't mind as well?) thank you very much!

I love how so many asks want the bots to more or less adopt children who adopt them in turn, because that kind of softness is what our bots DESERVE. Rodimus, Drift (and Rung!) have their post here, the original is here, and below I'll have dear Megs and Cyclonus getting their dad vibes.

Megatron

·When the liaison program was decided upon, his presence on the ship had required some... additional precautions be taken, in order to convince the humans that any visitors to the Lost Light would be safe. Said measures had consisted mostly of him being warned repeatedly, both in and out of official correspondence, that he was to never be alone with the humans. Doing so or taking any other actions that made the humans feel even moderately unsafe would result in swift punishment. He'd understood every bit of the security measures, annoying as they were repetitive, and endeavored to follow them. Seeing young members of a species he'd attempted to exterminate wasn't something he wanted to seek out anyway. Thus, he'd been quite purposefully unavailable when the group came onboard.

·Massive as the ship is, however, he'd been unable to elude the liaisons forever. On one fateful day he'd encountered all of them by chance, and thankfully there had been other bots around to ensure Ultra Magnus wouldn't throw him in the brig for breaking any promises. The humans had looked just as surprised as he had to see the former Decepticon leader staring down at them. To their credit though, and his shock, they hadn't fled screaming in an instant. Rather, they'd cautiously approached him as a unit. The boldness had been so unexpected he'd actually felt quite like fleeing himself once they'd started asking questions. With the other Autobots around he'd been forced to stand his ground, and thankfully the humans hadn't been nearly as aggressive as he'd been expecting, keeping most of their questions in the realm of polite but naive curiosity. Perhaps the Fools Energon was simply getting in his head, but he'd walked away from the encounter believing it to have been... pleasant.

·At the next chance meeting, made possible by everyone on the ship relaxing his restrictions, he's admittedly a little happy to see the liaisons. It happens in Swerve's bar, and they're actually able to converse with minimal oversight. The opportunity to get to know humans in depth is one he explores with caution though. Despite his current goal of righting past wrongs, he can't simply undo what he attempted to carry out on this species, as friendly as the young humans are to him. Knowing that fact is what makes him ache despite the pleasant conversation. They talk of their dreams, and ask him about innocent things in return, with particular fascination for his size and strength. Such bright and vivid souls, that he was once utterly indifferent to... How many brilliant lives like them did he snuff out without a care?

·Yet he keeps talking to the little ones whenever the opportunity presents itself. They might be some of the first beings to speak so casually to him in eons, and once they start asking about politics... Well, he can't resist sharing the beliefs he'd once thought too optimistic. As always, each liaison proves a spirited debate expert, despite being small enough to fit comfortably in his palm. Ignoring the rules, they often end up doing just that, though it's more for convenience as he doesn't want them to strain themselves shouting to be heard. Inevitably the restrictions on him loosen to the point he actually begins sitting with them gathered across his massive frame like birds on an oversized but comfortable tree, and through them he gets little samples of earth life in the form of stories and videos on their communication devices.

·It's the happiest he's ever been, and that's probably why he inevitably caves to his self loathing, the joy these little ones bring him forcing back memories of his many crimes against their kind. Even seeing them is a right he shouldn't feel so entitled to. For their sake, he decides to avoid them going forward, to protect them from himself and his legacy in addition to the weight of his conscience. Of course, the liaisons very quickly notice that they aren't seeing him around and one day decide to seek out answers. To his surprise, he fails to simply explain himself through a gentle lie when they eventually find him, as if their faces compel him to speak truthfully. He breaks and reminds them of what he is and what he's done, and that staying away is for their own good, especially considering he can hardly be trusted. As always, they surprise him.

·In total agreement, they all reassure him of a few things. First is that they're all well aware of who he is and what he's done. Second is that they knew that when they decided to approach him, and that his efforts to redeem himself have not gone unnoticed, which is why they've bonded with him as they have. They made the choice to get to know him, and while they can't speak for the many factors of the Cybertronian conflict beyond their understanding, they are allowed to decide they like who he is here and now. Had he a less hardened spark, their words would have made him weep. Instead, he quietly thanks them and promises to think on what they've said. In the end, he honors their decision by returning to the locations they expect him, and they continue as they did before. This time, however, he's more than just gentle while they clamber over him. He's protective as only a bot of his size can be to beings he truly appreciates as his found family.

Cyclonus

·The emotion he felt upon learning of the incoming liaisons was best summarized as "mild curiosity" at best. Not that he looked down upon the incoming crewmembers, but he just didn't think them worthy of much fuss, and only intended to learn enough to effectively avoid them going forward. A not so subtle warning not to intimidate them with his appearance cemented the emotion. On the day of their arrival, he met the whole group quite by chance during their introductory tour, and to his chagrin each one was fascinated by him in particular. Unable to even tell them apart at first, he'd been somewhat placated by their curiosity for things his own kind often overlooks. For the sake of cultural preservation, he decides that answering their questions won't be too much of a burden if done from time to time.

·Now reasonably well settled amongst the crew, he doesn't find it too hard to handle the socialization with multiple humans at once, though admittedly he's a little concerned when he learns of their age. Allowing what are essentially slow developing protoforms to explore on an alien vessel seems... irresponsible. Yet their youth does explain their energy, especially as they ask him many questions about topics he enjoys speaking of, starting with his accent leading to a grand recounting of Tetrahexian history. Unlike so many bots, they gladly listen to him go on about the glory days. Their little eyes go wide as he recounts technological wonders long gone. Had he less control it would have brought a smile to his face, especially when he lets slip his knowledge of the Old Cybertronian language and soon has a whole group begging to learn it.

·While he's hardly gone soft, he does allow the humans a touch more... freedom, in how they interact with him compared to others. They even enjoy the privilege of resting atop his shoulders or in his arms, though that's purely to save his back the strain of constantly bending down to their height. Any bot that says otherwise is swiftly reminded of his combat prowess. He begins to learn each human's unique personality and quirks in time, especially how some are better with history and others excelled at language. Learning bits about their own culture was surprisingly interesting as well, with pictures and videos of long gone human civilizations proving that some of Earth's occupants had decent aesthetic taste.

·Without knowing it, he more or less avoided discussing his own past with the little group, gently steering the conversation each time it ventured too close to the personal. The reason became blindly apparent when they learned of his former affiliation and the crimes he'd committed while sworn to it. Though not present for the revelation, he's certain of their reaction being one of fear and disgust, and immediately withdraws from the crew to hole himself up. Emotions too powerful to stifle force him to isolate for the sake of what remains of his pride. Not even knowing how exactly the humans found out, he's not particularly inclined to discover the manner, as the damage has been done. Admittedly, he was foolish to assume it wouldn't happen sooner.... Regardless, he knows he can never face them again.

·Unbeknownst to him, the revelation was a mistake, and one not met with any particular judgement. The liaisons were only concerned when he failed to appear at standard places of meeting, and as a unit agreed to check up on the bot they'd all come to admire. It had taken all of them knocking to get a coherent response through the door, and Cyclonus had cursed himself for being unable to simply tell them to leave, his spark indeed proving too soft at the sight of them all together. When he'd allowed the group inside, the last thing he'd been expecting was a coordinated embrace between the lot of them, but that had proven to be their tactic straight away. It had proven cunning and effective. A plurality of reasons for his shame had melted in the face of open hearted acceptance, with the entire group promising that who he had been mattered little compared to who he was now. To prevent a humiliating display of tears he'd accepted their assurance without fuss, but had indeed been convinced by the sheer strength of their conviction to continue meeting them for their little talks. Despite himself, he'd actually smiled the first time reuniting with them afterwards, his demeanor growing warmer in their presence from then on as he promised to himself no harm would ever befall them. They had accepted him, and he would do the same in return. Nothing in his past had ever compared to the treasure of simply knowing them.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #ll #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #requests #liaisons #human reader #self insert #megatron #cyclonus

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awildtrashcan · 3 years

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So what's the plot of the Rift Apart Au? Is Doctor Nefarious going to double cross Emperor Nefarious?

Uhhh oh boy thanks for the ask anon, I'll try to explain as best as I can but for all the shit I talk about how I was disappointed by the ending, I can't write a coherent plotline to save my life (it's why I draw instead), and any of this is subject to change because it's still in development and I'm indecisive, so here we go

(Spoilers for the AU I guess? Even though I already made art of the final fight because I’m impatient lmao. If anyone would want to look at content for it blind here's your warning and I'm also putting a read more so I don't flood everyone's dashboards because I just word dumped 1700+ words, I am not joking, turn back while you still can it’s like a minific here whoops)

Basically, the AU is centered around a Nef redemption arc happening within RA as I mentioned in my other post, or at least it's focused around his internal struggle over whether to give up villainy or not. So RA is rewritten to keep and expand on Nef's development from A4O (might even include rewrites/expanding on events pre-RA to better pace everything).

The first half of RA is largely the same with Nefarious stealing the Dimensionator so he can always win and all that but to add onto what's stated in-game (and also because I made a bunch of headcanons pre-release I'd like to use), Nef is stealing the Dimensionator as a last-ditch attempt at accomplishing something because after the events of A4O there's been a small seed of doubt over why he's still doing the typical villain song and dance growing inside him no matter how much he tries to kill it.

From his supposed retirement over the period of time between A4O and RA, Nef shows signs of questioning what his motivation is anymore after getting a taste of the other side by helping the heroes, even if it was under strained circumstances. He spends most of his time just existing, attempting to build up resources and troops for another siege against the galaxy, but his slow progress isn't just because he's low on bolts. Lawrence, ever the dutiful voice of reason and Nef’s only true friend, asks what's wrong. Nef brushes his question off, but Lawrence is already used to his employer being stubborn and continues to pry, eventually asking if his stay on Magnus is the cause of his troubles. Being absolutely correct, Lawrence is kicked out of the room by an enraged doctor until he inevitably needs his help again.

This routine continues with similar conversations happening over the years and their relationship becoming strained until one day where Lawrence reaches the root of Nef’s problems, that being he’s actually considering giving up being a villain, the only role and way of life he’s known until his time on Magnus. Not wanting to confront his inner turmoil any longer, this prompts Nef to push Lawrence away, using the excuse of giving him paid paternity leave because after A4O, Nefarious has softened up a little bit no matter how much he denies it.

With the last reminder of Magnus gone (Nef disregarding the photo still folded up in his wallet, because as long as he pretends it doesn’t exist he doesn’t need to convince himself to throw it away, look at it, end up spending a half hour sitting at his desk considering his conversations with the heroes and the way he might’ve actually smiled at times, and give up and put it back to be forgotten until he sees it again), Nef hears of the Dimensionator being presented during the Heroes Day Parade and realizes this is the perfect opportunity to finally prove that all his decades of villainy was worth it and win.

So Nef takes over his alternate self’s position, and he’s having the time of his life! At first. After some time spent utilizing all of the new tech and resources he has at his fingertips and reveling in his triumph, the initial rush of power fades and he realizes he feels...empty. He’s finally achieved what he’s described in many a monologue over the years and yet he feels nothing. This is what he wanted, shouldn’t he be happy? Absolutely ecstatic? The only thing really motivating him right now is the annoyance that his archenemies are in this dimension with him and aiming to take away the victory he’s finally got his hands on (even if his grip is loose and halfhearted). He’s gotten this far, he should make this victory stick and get rid of those pests once and for all. He has the power of a galactic empire’s worth of warbots and gunships, he should be able to take down his nemeses and their alternate counterparts easily. But somehow the heroes evade his every attack and it isn’t until the Emperor’s assistant, with a line of questioning too similar to his assistant back home, suggests that maybe the problem is him.

Sick of dealing with forced introspection even in another reality, Nef heads out to finally get rid of his problems and deal with the heroes himself. We all know how that ends but this time throughout the fight, Nef begins to break down mentally as well as physically, trying so desperately to win and hold onto his victory because this is the best he’s ever gotten and he can’t go back to just being some loser of a supervillain. But even with his best efforts, he still goes down.

Enter the Emperor, who’s just learned that some imposter has stolen his throne and lost to the Lombax rebel under his name and he’s furious. He’s about to dump the impostor into some abandoned dimension like the trash he is, but the other robot offers his assistance in defeating the rebels because even if he has to beg for mercy, Nef isn’t going to let it end here. Emps looks at the robot who must be so desperate to be like him to look so similar, thinks “why not?” and takes him with him.

Damaged from the fight with the heroes, Nef shuts down as Emps takes the time to repair him. He also takes the time to look through his memory banks because some deranged fan of his would be perfectly fine with providing the Emperor with whatever information could be used to stamp out the Resistance, right? And that’s how Emps learns the robot isn’t trying to be him. He is him. An inferior, pathetic and weak version of him, and Emps realizes he has a new, interesting project lying in front of him. Exterminating rebels is fun and all, but with the slow pace it’s going he needs something to entertain him in the time leading up to his complete domination of the galaxy and turning this loser into an evil overlord befitting the Nefarious name will be an amusing challenge. Nef wakes up back in working order and finds his alternate self that was about to kill him without a second thought smiling at him, saying the Doctor just hit paydirt taking over his position in his absence.

The second half of the game starts here and as the Resistance tries to fight back as in canon, Emps spends his time teaching Nef how to be the “best” version of himself, crushing any doubts from earlier that arise and encouraging him to prove himself by sending him out to deal with the heroes with his own hands. This proves to be a double-edged sword in a way as Nef interacting with the heroes keeps some of those doubts alive and even flourishing underneath Nef’s newfound drive to prove himself. Emps can see this too, and after a particular disappointment, Emps gives him a final push, verbally (and maybe physically) tearing into Nef and questioning why he can’t do something as simple as kill his enemies, why he’d even think about giving up on the life of villainy he’s meant for, what’s he good for if he can’t even accomplish that, why he’s useless, worthless, trash.

Nef hits his breaking point, pushing himself to the extreme to defeat the heroes and prove to himself, the Emperor, the heroes, and the universe that he’s worth something. And he does. He actually takes out most of the remaining Resistance members while Emps deals with the others, until all that’s left are his archenemies. And as he gains the upper hand and succeeds in sending Ratchet and Clank to Zordoom, the look on the two heroes’ faces make him realize he just destroyed what faith, from Magnus and maybe even just a few minutes before, they had in him left and he goes back to the Emperor’s office with a heavy weight in his processors rather than the vindictive happiness and satisfaction he expected. The Emperor greets him with the widest smile he’s ever seen and for the first time since their alliance/mentorship/Nef doesn’t care what to call it anymore he tells Nef that he knew he could do it if he just tried. He’s proud of him.

Disgust fills his circuits at that and Nef realizes how far he’s fallen, how this isn’t what he needed or wanted at all, how much he’s royally fucked up. But he also realizes that for once, he isn’t going to follow the path everyone else says he should anymore, even if the only couple of people left who believed in him no longer do. So while Emps is rejoicing over the annihilation of his enemies and subsequently experiencing his own existential crisis, Nef sneaks off to begin dismantling an empire from the inside out, starting with helping a certain space rat and his backpack break out of prison and getting a reality warping gun out of his alternate self’s hands.

Aaaaaaaand that’s all I’ve got for now! Like I said, I’m still working on the plot and anything I just said is up to change, but the basic gist of the rest of the AU is extending the second half of RA with Nef betraying Emps to help the heroes figure out how to fix the dimensions and take down the Emperor, even if the heroes don’t want him helping either. It definitely won’t be easy and although Nef has realized he truly doesn’t want to be a villain anymore, he’s still Nef and that includes him being a stubborn, egotistical jerk. But now he’s a stubborn, egotistical jerk that’s aware he actually (begrudgingly) has a heart and he’s done resigning himself to the role the universe, including himself, thinks is all he’s good for.

The rest of the AU is also focused around Nef not only moving on from villainy, but realizing he actually has the potential to become a hero and truly redeem himself and prove he can be a good person while keeping the traits that make him who he is, rather than just settle for retiring and living the rest of his artificial lifespan in whatever remote sector he finds to avoid getting arrested. Because I don’t want Nef to just become the evil uncle that shows up sometimes, I want to see him learn to better himself and work for it without sacrificing who he is at the same time.

#asks #ratchet and clank #dr nefarious #emperor nefarious #rift apart au #anon idk if you wanted an entire outline but here's an entire outline lmao #I hope this makes sense cause like I said I'm not a writer #nef is probably ooc for this entire au but screw it #it could be that deep #emps is prob ooc too but he gets barely any characterization in game so who knows #I have spent way too much time thinking about this as you can see from the length of this post #please excuse any grammar or spelling errors it is 12 am

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