#well all this to say that jon will be something we’ve never seen before and it will be fucking depressing

[nightswatchdisbandmentera]

Jon coming back “wrong” but it’s not in the fire-zombie way people imagine. Rather, as a result of the different types of magic within him heating up to a fervor, he comes back as a freak of nature, playing right into GRRM’s deconstruction of biblical doctrine and prophecy. In true Christ-like fashion, Jon transforms into the fantasy hero we think we deserve: a prophet, warrior, king, and god. It’s good for Westeros and its survival, but is it good for Jon? Is it really good for him? He’s only 17. He’s a kid ☹️

#not a fully formed theory or anything rn but this post came about because I was thinking of how #jon’s main three parallels beyond the wall are: coldhands the ranger #mance the king #and bloodraven the god 🌚 #then I started thinking of jon not as separate entities but rather as one combined magic super saiyan #and remembered how his adwd dream is like magic on steroids with him being armored in ice and wielding fire #and how this is happening as he harnesses the magical ability of prophecy and how he’s a warg and a warrior and yeah #well all this to say that jon will be something we’ve never seen before and it will be fucking depressing #because he doesn’t deserve to carry that burden #jon snow #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls

[eruherdiriel]

Duty

Jonsa ficlet Rating: T Universe: Canon, vaguely bookverse Other: Marriage of convenience, Queen Sansa, Sansa POV

Also on AO3.

Sansa finds him under the heart tree, Longclaw across his lap and a whetstone in his hand. He looks so very much like Father it hurts and makes what she is about to say all the more disconcerting.

“My queen,” he greets her, then returns to his work.

“My prince.” She spares Jon any further pleasantries. They will not change what she has to say. “The North needs heirs. I need an heir. We cannot ignore that forever.”

Jon’s hand stills, and though he does not look up, she can see his face become guarded.

“We’ve done our duty.”

Sansa holds in a sigh at his intentional obtuseness. “It takes more than once, Jon.”

“Aye, it can.” Finally, he looks up, but he keeps his eyes from locking with hers. “I thought to give you more … time, before we made a second attempt.”

Their wedding night had been a stilted affair at best; she had trembled, he had frowned, but they had seen it through. Sansa had tried not to think of the men who had touched her before, or how surely Jon was willing himself to think of the woman who came before her. 

“You’ve had me once. Surely another time will not be so different,” she snaps. It won’t be different. Your kiss will always taste of duty, and I will never give myself wholly to anyone. But some childish dream buds inside her at times, when he offers her a hand as they walk over icy ground or when he scowls at men who overlook her authority. 

Regaining her composure, she continues, her tone softer. “You leave soon. We cannot afford further delay.”

It’s not just about heirs. Sansa does not know how long Jon will be gone, only that she dreads the absence for the awkwardness it will engender in his return. It would be better to become accustomed to his touch now. And what if he does not return? Despite everything—the oddness of a match to a man she once thought her bastard brother, who is the opposite of everything she once wished for—Jon has been a better husband than any of her former suitors could have been. No one else could love the North and Winterfell as well as she does. And if he gets her with child, perhaps she could forestall another marriage if he falls in the war against his Targaryen aunt.

Jon eyes her. “Would you want children even if it was not your duty?”

The question startles her. No one has ever thought to ask me. Bearing children was always expected of her, a sure part of her life. But yes, she has dreamed of a family, and she wishes for one still.

“I want children.” Then, because she honestly does not know, Sansa asks, “Do you?”

She wonders how much Jon has allowed himself to even consider the idea of a family. Since they reunited, she has seen a glint of desire in his eyes for things he never should have wished for—for Winterfell, for a title—but Sansa also knows he has denied himself. “Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa,” Jon had said when the Northern seat was offered to him. Learning that had caused another bud of hope to emerge in her, though she tried to temper it.

His answer comes swiftly. “Yes.”

Sansa’s tongue sticks to the roof of her mouth. She swallows, trying to bring moisture back so she can form words again.

“Then we both get something we want. It shall not merely be duty.”

Jon purses his lips as if in disagreement but doesn’t refute her. His eyes drop before he speaks, resuming the work of sharpening Longclaw. “I’ll come to your chambers tonight then, your grace.”

She nods, then remembers he isn’t looking at her anymore. “Tonight,” she says before turning away and attempting not to run from the godswood—not to run from him. It would be unbecoming of a queen, and she is not afraid of him.

All day, her tummy flutters for nothing: when Jon’s fingers brush her back as she sits in the chair he has pulled out for her, when his eyes meet hers to communicate silent agitation as Lady Cerwyn complains about troop commitments, and when his fist taps on the door of her chambers in the evening.

“It is only us here, my queen,” Jon says before they begin. “No one else.”

Is it? she wonders. Along with their ghosts, surely the nobles and smallfolk have a presence with them in this act. It is for them, for the assurance of her people that she and Jon strive for an heir. And for ourselves, and the family we both desire, she reminds herself. Then her husband says something else, something that makes her heart stutter.

“Let me make it good for you,” he whispers between kisses. “Let me try.”

She should not allow his words to plant a seed in her heart, but the look in his eyes is needful and vulnerable in a way Jon so rarely allows himself to be seen. Sansa finds herself nodding, letting him kiss his way across her body, letting him rid her of her shift, letting him touch and kiss her in ways that start to feel nothing like duty.

#jonsa #jonsa fanfiction #jon x sansa #*rms #eruhwrites

[madamebaggio]

Notes: As "Maybe we shouldn't (but we will)" (a.k.a. The bucket list) was the second most voted on our end of the year poll, I'll post the beginning of the next chapter for you all.

Let me know your feelings.

Previously...

***

Chapter 15

Sam sighed as he watched Jon playing with the pint on his hand. When his friend had asked him out for a drink, Sam imagined something had happened and that it had something to do with the Sansa situation -how he called it in his head.

Sam knew Jon very well; they’d been friends for a long time and went through a lot together. There wasn’t much he didn’t know about the other man.

Sure, he hadn’t expected Jon to get into this… Situation with Sansa Stark. He’d never got the impression that there was anything between them, and he’d seen them together on many occasions. Jon hadn’t talked much about Sansa before, so it was a bit of a shock.

However, Sam didn’t really think it was the craziest match possible. When he’d thought about it better, it did make a lot of sense. They were both steady, loyal and kind people. In Sam’s head, Jon and Sansa made more sense than most of Jon’s previous relationships.

The man in question let out a long sigh, and Sam figured he was ready to say whatever was in his head.

“I’m in love with Sansa.”

Well… Now Sam was glad he hadn’t taken a sip from his beer. “I see.” He dragged the last word.

Jon looked at him. “You do?”

“I mean…” Sam cleared his throat. “I think it was bound to happen.”

Jon frowned. “It was?”

Sam snorted. “Jon… Come on. You’re the king of getting involved with people. And Sansa is pretty amazing. It isn’t shocking that, once you spent more time together, you’d realize she’s amazing and…” He shrugged.

“You could’ve warned me.”

“I’m pretty sure when you told me it was already too late.”  

Jon sighed again. “We spent time together before.” He defended himself quietly.

“Not like this.”

Jon’s next sigh was even more dramatic. “Are you going to tell her?” Sam wanted to know.

“Not yet.” When he saw Sam’s arched eyebrow, Jon hurried to explain. “Sansa is… Discovering herself right now. We’ve had a lot of discussions, and only now she feels more comfortable to say what she wants or not. Her self-confidence took a lot of hits in the last years and in her last relationships. She needs more time.”

“More time for what?”

“To decide whether what she feels when she’s with me is real or not.” Jon’s eyes dipped back to his untouched pint. “Right now she’s enjoying the high, learning about herself… I don’t want to confuse her.”

“I see your point, but then you aren’t being exactly honest with her, right?”

“I don’t intend to drag this indefinitely, Sam.” Jon assured him. “Not even to the end of the list. I also don’t intend to lie to her. If she asks me about my feelings, I’ll tell her honestly. But I think she needs a bit more time. She needs to feel more confident and more certain of what she wants or not.”

“Including you.”

“Including me.”

“I get what you’re saying, Jon, I truly do. But…” It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “Don’t wait too long. Yes, she might need time, but you don’t. You’re in love already. The more time you let pass, the worse this can get for you.”

“I know, Sam.” Jon nodded. “As I said, I don’t intend to lie to her, or anything. I just want her to figure it out on her own.”

Sure. Nothing could go wrong with that, right?

#madame baggio #crackship #images not mine #fanfiction #posted on ao3 #game of thrones #au #sansa stark #jon snow #a special bucket list #jonsa

[lfthinkerwrites]

fireworks - author's choice ❣️

(Went for a different use of the term lol. Hope you enjoy!)

Dr. Arkham sighed. “Harvey, we’ve talked about the language. Before we continue the session, please apologize to Edward for what you said about his mother.”

From his place in the so-called ‘friendship circle’ between Jonathan and Waylon, Edward shrugged, “That’s not necessary, Dr. It’s been nearly thirty years since I’ve seen the woman. For all I know, she could be a syphilitic whore.”

Joker cackled and Pamela made a disgusted noise. Dr. Arkham shook his head. “Edward, please. This group therapy session is meant to foster a positive relationship in Arkham. We don’t want a repeat of what happened in the cafeteria yesterday.”

“We don’t?” Joker asked. “Aren’t we all glad that Jervis stabbed Laszlo with a sharpened spork?”

“You still want us to think Jervis did that?” Jonathan drawled.

“Well he did have the spork in his pocket.” Joker let out an exaggerated gasp. “Wait! Are you trying to imply that he was framed, Spooky? By who?”

“No one’s implying anything Joker.” Personally, Arkham agreed that Jervis didn’t do it, but he didn’t care enough to get the little bastard out of solitary. “Let’s move on. I’d like everyone here to say something positive about someone. Joker, we’ll start with you. Say something positive and keep it appropriate please.”

Joker grinned. “I know something positive! I found out that if you hit Robin in the spleen with a crowbar, he squeaks like a dog’s chew toy!”

Arkham wiped a hand down his face and willed himself not to cry. “I said to keep it appropriate, Joker.” A loud laugh was his only response. Arkham squeezed his eyes shut, internally counted to ten, then turned his gaze to Waylon. “Would you like to say something positive, Waylon?”

Waylon rubbed his chin with a scaly hand. “It can’t be about eating people?”

Arkham resisted the urge to throw his writing pad at Waylon’s face. He had a shock collar on and there were armed guards just outside, but why risk it? “No Waylon, it can’t be about eating people.”

Waylon nodded. “Ok. I have something positive to say about Jervis.”

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yeah. I’m happy that he’s in solitary and I don’t have to listen to him whine about Alice!”

Joker cackled again, as did Edward, Pamela, and even Arnold. Arkham took a deep breath. “Fine, Waylon. That’s nice. That’s very nice. Now, does anyone else have anything positive they want to say?” Edward’s hand shot up. “For the love of God, anyone other than Edward?”

Joker clicked his tongue. “Uh, uh, uh, Dr. Arkham. Remember, positivity!”

Arkham was positively sure he was about to storm out of the room, call Belle Reve and have every single one of these degenerates join Harley down south. “Fine. Ok. What do you have to say, Edward?”

Edward lowered his hand and smiled. “I’d just like to say that I really do appreciate my time in Arkham. Whenever I’m here and interact with you all, I’m reassured that I am indeed, the most brilliant criminal mind in all of Gotham.”

Harvey jumped up and threw his chair at Edward, who yelped and jumped into Jonathan’s lap to avoid it. Waylon caught the chair and threw it back, sending it flying over Harvey’s head. It hit the wall with a crash. Joker threw his head back and laughed.

“Get off me!” Jonathan shouted, shoving Edward to the floor.

“Asshole!” Edward shouted back.

“Narcissistic megalomaniac!”

“Inbred hick!”

“High school dropout!”

Edward gasped. “Jon! You promised never to tell anyone about that!”

Pamela laughed. “All that talk about being a genius, and you couldn’t even finish high school? Pathetic.”

Arkham agreed, but he needed to at least attempt to get things under control, or else the guards would come in and…actually, wait. Fuck these people. The guards could brutalize them as much as they wanted. Edward was up on his feet now and screaming in Jonathan’s face, and Jonathan was screaming right back. Waylon, Harvey, Pamela, and Joker seemed content to watch the show, Joker chiming in with his own commentary. Arnold just kept nervously watching the door.

Dr. Arkham really, really hated his job.

#fic prompts #fun with group therapy #the gotham rogues

[marichive]

𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖 : 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Writing / roleplay prompts collected from the POV chapters of Jon Snow in A Clash of Kings , the second book of the ASOIAF saga. Feel free to adjust pronouns / etc. as needed.

tw: dark & mature themes, death, violence, suggestive / sexual content

❝ Have you been here all night? ❞

❝ You didn’t break your fast with us, and your bed hadn’t been slept in. ❞

❝ Is it morning? Down here there’s no way to know. ❞

❝ You’re a sweet fool. ❞

❝ You’ll miss that bed when we’re sleeping on the cold hard ground, I promise you. ❞

❝ If I had time to search . . . everything’s a jumble. I could set it all to order, though. ❞

❝ This vault is a treasure. ❞

❝ The books will still be here when we return. ❞

❝ You’ll be as safe as if you were back in your father’s castle. ❞

❝ I was never very safe in my father’s castle either. ❞

❝ The gods play cruel jests. ❞

❝ Someone has to help me keep him humble. ❞

❝ We’re all scared. We’d be fools if we weren’t. ❞

❝ There’s no shame in fear, my father told me, what matters is how we face it. ❞

❝ Some men want whores on the eve of battle, and some want gods. ❞

❝ The Seven have no power beyond the wall, but my gods will be waiting. ❞

❝ What do you make of them? ❞

❝ They smell of summer. ❞

❝ You’ve heard these tidings of your brother? ❞

❝ He will make a good king. ❞

❝ He was never the same after he put on that crown. ❞

❝ Some men are like swords, made for fighting. Hang them up and they go to rust. ❞

❝ May the gods go with you on the morrow. ❞

❝ More stairs. I hate stairs. ❞

❝ Put them here. I’ll have a look at them later. ❞

❝ The command should be mine. ❞

❝ I do not mean to send you after them and sit wondering how long I must wait before I give you up for lost as well. ❞

❝ Stop wasting my time. ❞

❝ Do I look frail? ❞

❝ Don’t cozen me. ❞

❝ Was this all you could find? ❞

❝ If you have something to say, say it. ❞

❝ A man must believe his eyes. ❞

❝ I have seen the dead walk. ❞

❝ “Give me a man for every vow I’ve seen broken and the Wall will never lack for defenders. ❞

❝ A lord’s one thing, a king’s another. ❞

❝ Tell me none of this troubles you, and I’ll name you a liar. ❞

❝ And if it did trouble me, what might I do? ❞

❝ I’d like to take an axe to the bloody thing myself. ❞

❝ My father believed no man could tell a lie in front of a heart tree. The Old Gods know when men are lying. ❞

❝ Much can change in a year’s time. ❞

❝ We might camp here tonight. ❞

❝ I was afraid that if I closed my eyes, I might never open them again. ❞

❝ Whatever enemy waits out here will not find us so easy to deal with. ❞

❝ We’ll find them, I promise you. ❞

❝ So long as he gives us a hot meal and a chance to dry our clothes, I’ll be happy. ❞

❝ There’s a cold smell to that one, there is. ❞

❝ The men are to mind their hands and speak to these women as little as need be. ❞

❝ Truth be told, I never once missed him. ❞

❝ These are bad times to dwell alone in the wild. ❞

❝ Better to die free than live a slave. ❞

❝ We’ve had no such troubles here. ❞

❝ I’ll thank you not to tell such evil tales under my roof. ❞

❝ I’m a godly man, and the gods keep me safe. ❞

❝ I could use a sharp new axe. ❞

❝ More beer, and be quick about it. ❞

❝ No trouble from the dead, but what of the living? ❞

❝ What of your king? ❞

❝ Any man lays a hand on my wife, he loses the hand. ❞

❝ He has the look of a Stark. ❞

❝ Man wants to bed a woman, he ought to take her to wife. ❞

❝ He won’t hurt you. ❞

❝ Are you one of his daughters? ❞

❝ That wolf’s looking at you hungry. ❞

❝ You’re scaring her. ❞

❝ I know all the names. ❞

❝ Save your breath. ❞

❝ Is he as savage as they say? ❞

❝ So there is magic beyond the Wall after all. ❞

❝ Just take me with you when you go, that’s all I ask. ❞

❝ I’ll be your wife, if you like. ❞

❝ He never gave you guest right, so you’re not bound to him. ❞

❝ It’s for the baby, I have to go. ❞

❝ I don’t even know your name. ❞

❝ Is it him who frightens you? ❞

❝ For the baby, not for me. ❞

❝ What color are the eyes? ❞

❝ Blue. As bright as blue stars. ❞

❝ Your babe would not be safe with us. ❞

❝ I do not choose the road I ride. ❞

❝ Keep a good edge on that sword of yours. We’ll be needing it soon enough. ❞

❝ I know what it is to be afraid. ❞

❝ She’s going to have a baby. ❞

❝ Have you taken leave of all your sense? ❞

❝ Why do I feel so ashamed? ❞

❝ She was frightened and wanted help. ❞

❝ The wide world is full of people wanting help. Would that some could find the courage to help themselves. ❞

❝ My father once told me that some men are not worth having. A bannerman who is brutal or unjust dishonors his liege lord as well as himself. ❞

❝ We could scarce hope for better. ❞

❝ What’s wrong with you? ❞

❝ Maybe there are ghosts here, the spirits of the First Men. This was their place, once. ❞

❝ How did you fare today? ❞

❝ I will not lose more of my men. ❞

❝ I mislike the man, but I do not think he lied to us in this. ❞

❝ Shall I bring you supper? ❞

❝ Did your wolf find game today? ❞

❝ That’s not for me to say. ❞

❝ I dread that as much as you, but we must admit the possibility. ❞

❝ Rest will serve me better. ❞

❝ Was the hunting so bad? ❞

❝ Dragonglass. What the maesters call obsidian. ❞

❝ Send two hundred wolves against ten thousand sheep and see what happens. ❞

❝ You have your father’s look. ❞

❝ I am no lordling. ❞

❝ It is said that a direwolf runs with you. ❞

❝ I had begun to fear for you. Did you meet with trouble? ❞

❝ There are worse ways to die than warm and drunk. ❞

❝ I’ll not be going there, I promise you. ❞

❝ I was not meant to hear that. ❞

❝ It was just empty talk. ❞

❝ They are cold and afraid; we all are. ❞

❝ The unseen enemy is always the most fearsome. ❞

❝ It must have been buried for a reason. ❞

❝ What is you will in this? ❞

❝ Fire is life up here, but it can be death as well. ❞

❝ No better time to start than now. ❞

❝ I wish I had a tenth part of his courage. ❞

❝ Do you have a name? ❞

❝ You are my captive. ❞

❝ I never knew my mother. ❞

❝ I want to hear this tale of yours. ❞

❝ A steel kiss will keep her quiet. ❞

❝ She yielded herself to me. ❞

❝ You must do what needs to be done. ❞

❝ You don’t need to do it. ❞

❝ Aren’t you afraid? ❞

❝ Strike hard and true, or I’ll come back and haunt you. ❞

❝ I can’t stay brave forever. ❞

❝ You never asked me how it went. With the girl. ❞

❝ They have no discipline. ❞

❝ You know? ❞

❝ Tell me why you spared her. ❞

❝ I know she was an enemy, but there was no evil in her. ❞

❝ To lead a man you must know them. ❞

❝ You ought to be sleeping. ❞

❝ I like it in the dark. ❞

❝ It’s always pretty women in my dreams. Would that I dreamed more often. ❞

❝ Dead men walk and the trees have eyes again. Why should we balk at wargs and giants? ❞

❝ Does this mean my dreams are true as well? ❞

❝ He can keep his mammoths, I want my women. ❞

❝ I want to see them with my own eyes. ❞

❝ Eagles have sharper eyes than men. ❞

❝ It will be good to feel warm again, if only for a little while. ❞

❝ Sometimes a man forgets how pretty a fire can be. ❞

❝ Did he ever love a maid or have a wedding? ❞

❝ He has a different part to play. ❞

❝ Do you remember the words of your vow? ❞

❝ I am not afraid to die. ❞

❝ What do you mean? ❞

❝ If we are taken, you must yield. ❞

❝ No. Never. I won’t. ❞

❝ You will. I command it of you. ❞

❝ You must not balk, whatever is asked of you. ❞

❝ Do as they bid you, but in your heart, remember who and what you are. ❞

❝ I do not want to play the oathbreaker, even for a good reason. ❞

❝ I’ll do whatever you ask. ❞

#rp memes #rp prompts #roleplay prompts #roleplay memes #inbox memes #rp prompt #[memes ; mine] #[memes ; general] #[memes ; literature] #[memes ; for muse] #[memes ; sentence]

[banannabethchase]

Title prompt: even bad wolves can be good (hard mode: any codyship)

Even Bad Wolves Can Be Good - also on AO3

~

Claudio comes to Cody with important knowledge related to the Bloodline's collapse. And Cody can't fight the call.

~

For the record, I did not plan to write this sequel.

~

“Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of here,” Cody says, not even looking up as the light from the hallway pours over him.

“Cody.”

He hasn’t heard that voice in ages, and has to check, lifting his head. And knows immediately something is very wrong. Feigning composure, Cody sets his phone down on the table, frowning. “Claudio,” he says, hesitantly. “What are you doing here?”

Claudio stands casually in Cody’s office, as if he belongs in this place, like they aren’t rivals. “Charmed to see you,” he says. He wears a suit as well as Cody remembers.

“The same to you,” Cody says. He’ll be cautious around Claudio Castagnoli his whole life, the same way he is around other sons of alphas. He underestimated Roman Reigns once. He will not do it with another. “Again, what are you doing here?”

“I have intelligence,” Claudio says. “And, while I know the two of us have never collaborated on less than fraught terms, I wanted to extend my hand.”

Cody raises an eyebrow. “Intelligence.”

Claudio nods. “Moxley has maintained some connections with Seth.”

Cody sits up. “Did Roman go after him again?”

“God, no,” Claudio says. “Breathe, Cody. We’ve protected him before Roman could retaliate.”

“Protected him?”

Claudio nods once. "We knew of violence on Roman’s part, from others. I knew Seth would be an easy target.”

Cody studies Claudio. “You put your ass on the line for Seth?”

“Not for Seth,” Claudio clarifies. “At least, I didn’t do so for Seth.”

Cody raises an eyebrow and waits for the clarification. Castagnoli could never tolerate silence.

“Moxley made a request.”

“A request.” Cody stares. “A request regarding Seth. A human.”

For the first time Cody’s seen it, Claudio’s face goes pink. “I am more understanding of the connection between a human and a wolf,” Claudio says, carefully.

“I knew it!” Cody stands and walks to Claudio, clapping him on the shoulder. “What’s her name?”

“His name is Wheeler Yuta,” Claudio says. Cody’s surprise must show on his face, because Claudio rolls his eyes. “Look less shocked, Rhodes. Roman is the one who started the trend.”

“Rhodes is my father,” Cody says. “And I know.” He sighs. “How is Seth?”

“Seth is well looked after,” Claudio assures. “Mox and Renee have taken him in.”

“Renee?” Cody asks. “The manager?”

“Mox is incapable of keeping it in his pants.” Claudio shakes his head. “It looks like, between Seth and Renee, he’s satiated.”

Cody blinks. “Two humans.”

“Seth has plenty of experience with wolfkind,” Claudio says. “And Renee has a leash on both of them.”

“I hope not literally,” Cody scoffs. “Though, knowing Jon…”

“Please, don’t finish that thought.” Claudio holds up a hand. “I’m here on more sensitive business.”

“I guessed,” Cody says. He sits on his desk, hands folded in his lap. “What do you need from me?”

“It’s not what I need,” Claudio assures. “I’m sure you’ve heard about the collapse of the Bloodline.”

“Collapse is putting it lightly,” Cody says. He doesn’t mention that he’s absorbed most of their assets, that he bought out a shocking number of stock out from under Claudio’s nose. His connections on the inside fed him all the corporate details he’d needed. He still needs to send Randy that gift basket. But he’ll request extra melon – it seems he missed critical details that, somehow, Claudio is willing to offer.

“He put the blame on one of his family,” Claudio says, and his eyes burn. “On one of his pack.”

Cody’s spine stiffen. “Not –”

“He was half beaten to death, Cody,” Claudio says quietly. “He’s in the hospital, right now.”

Cody pushes to standing, ready to run toward the door. Claudio catches him, though, and the five inches of height is enough leverage to slow him.

“Let me go,” Cody growls, flashing fangs.

Claudio’s eyes flash. “He is in the hospital with our people,” he assures. “Don’t think me a fool.”

Cody relaxes, but only a little. “I want to see him.”

Claudio raises an eyebrow. “You do, now.”

“You know I do,” Cody snarls. “Otherwise you wouldn’t be here.” It’s the most admission to what’s been brewing beneath his skin for years than he’s made even to himself.

Claudio is too calm, too collected. Cody wants to rip the sensibility off his face. “I’ll take you there,” Claudio assures him. “But I needed you to know, I don’t see him requesting your services. A beta is not inherently in need of an alpha.”

“Who the fuck do you think I am?” Cody asks, still seeing red. “I’m a better man than that. I care for him, not for his submission.” He’ll regret the words later, when they don’t matter so much.

“I know that,” Claudio says, a hand on Cody’s shoulder. “But you and I both know that sometimes the pull is strong enough to tempt us to forget logic.”

“You’re speaking for yourself here, Claudio.” Cody steps back. “I’m not one to break that trust.”

Claudio stumbles, and Cody regrets his words. “I’ve atoned for my sins,” he says quietly. “And I assure you, I have never felt tempted to do so again.” His eyes go soft. There is a wolf behind them, but it is a shamed puppy. Cody softens.

“I know,” Cody says. “I know. Now take me to the hospital. Even if he doesn’t want to see me, I need to know he’s okay.” He adjusts the cuffs of his suit coat. “Of all days to take the driver to work.”

Claudio drives like a madman, and Cody appreciates it. There’s no one in this world who knows the draw Cody’s felt to Jey since the first days of the Blackpool, Nightmare, and Bloodline collaborations, no one but Claudio. He was close enough to smell Cody’s reaction to Jey laughing at that ethics conference.

The conference was years ago, and, still, Cody can’t get Jey off of his mind.

They pull into Elite Medical Hospital at speeds unacceptable this side of a highway, and Cody practically throws himself to the asphalt in his eagerness.

“Calm yourself,” Claudio demands. Cody hasn’t felt the pull of an alpha warring with his own in years, and he knows Claudio means well. That doesn’t make it okay.

“Stop it,” Cody snaps. “You aren’t in charge of me, Claudio. Remember, I am just as much an alpha as you are.”

Infuriatingly, Claudio rolls his eyes. “I forgot how miserable life is around other alphas. I’m calling Wheeler when you get in there.”

“Who?”

“My – boyfriend,” Claudio says, and that smile is stupidly charming. No wonder he’s got so many people in his pack. “The human.”

Cody raises an eyebrow. “You really have changed your tune.”

“I beg you to stop before you start.” But there’s a light behind Claudio’s eyes that Cody has never seen before. Not even when they were fighting for valedictorian in college, when late night competitive study sessions turned into something a little less proper. “Please. Go see him. Moxley will be standing guard.”

“A guard,” Cody says, stepping out of the car. “You really aren’t playing.”

“I’m not,” Claudio says, eyes firm. “You of all people know what Roman is capable of. Retaliation is not out of the question. Especially if he knows that you and I have gotten involved.”

“Let him retaliate,” Cody says, allowing his eyes to flash. “I dare him.”

Claudio’s smile is just the slightest bit too toothy. “I appreciate your allegiance.”

Cody nods and closes the car door, stepping to the hospital. The receptionist, a tall man with an impressively long beard for such a formal hospital, kindly directs him to the right room. Cody knows the owners of this place – has for years – and is thankful for not only the discretion but also the expertise.

He catches sight of Moxley, fidgety as always, outside of Jey’s room. His eyes brighten when he sees Cody.

“Hey, man!” he says. He reaches out and they clap hands before Cody eschews decorum and pulls Moxley in for a hug. “Long time no see.”

“A failed merger will do that,” Cody chuckles. “You look well.”

Moxley shrugs, but he’s got a similar glow to Claudio’s. “Yeah, well, Renee and Seth keep my shit honest, you know?”

“Seth doing okay?” Cody knows asking is a risk, but he has to take it.

“He’s good,” Moxley says, tone soft. “Pissed to hear how Roman reacted. You know.”

Cody does know. He wasn’t involved back in the day– barely heard about it – but Roman’s “no romance rule” was notorious. He can’t imagine the guilt Moxley must have felt at getting Seth in the middle of a werewolf business turf war. At the very least, unlike Cody, Moxley seems to have repaired what was broken. Claudio’s pack suits him. “I do,” he says quietly. “Is he awake?”

“He is,” Mox says. “Looks worse than you might think, though.”

“Full moon will heal him,” Cody says, but the reassurance is flat. “Only a few days away.”

Mox shrugs. “I think he could use a laugh or two. But I don’t quite know his sense of humor.”

Cody lets a smile play on his lips, remembering the quickly berated snickers on the other end of a conference table from time the time. “I do.”

He knocks gently. “I hear you’re looking for an alpha,” Cody says, leaning against the doorway of the hospital room.

Jey turns, though it must be painful judging by the bandages. He refuses to meet Cody’s eyes. He’s good at this. “Fuck I’m not.”

“I figured being on your own wouldn’t be your interest.” He stares at Jey until he raises his eyes, burning into Cody’s. “You’d do well with a leader who had your best interest in mind.”

Jey presses his lips together. “I’m doing fine.”

“You are,” Cody assures him. “But the bandages suggest better is in your future, no?”

Jey stares at the wall. “It’ll heal.”

“It will,” Cody says. He comes into the room and pulls the door shut.

“You here to grill me for info on Roman?” Jey asks. “Because he hasn’t told me shit for months. It’s why the Bloodline collapsed.”

“Nothing about Roman,” Cody says. “Claudio told me all I needed to know to understand I had to be here.”

Jey finally looks at him. It’s been over a year since Roman had opened his company doors to any dealings or collaboration. Over a year since Cody saw that stunning face in person. “Claudio,” he says. “I thought you two hated each other.”

“It’s business,” Cody says, waving it off. He makes his way to the big chair in the room. A safe distance away, if that’s what Jey wants. But close enough that he could lean in. “He told me you were hurt.”

Jey presses his lips together. Cody wonders what he’s preventing himself from letting slip.

“Are you feeling better?” Cody asks. He wishes it didn’t feel so awkward.

Jey shrugs. “Waiting game until the full moon.” He frowns. “Though I’m not sure where that’s gonna be.”

“You’re welcome at mine,” Cody says before he can stop himself. “I’m pretty docile at this point when I change.”

“You aren’t kidding,” Jey says, tilting his head.

“Nope,” Cody says, and he can’t resist popping the last sound. “Come on. Claudio’s got his handful with his pack of misfits. Mine is just me, my brother, Sami, and Kevin, but they all have their own places. I got a strong alliance with the Elite. Come on.” He leans in. “You don’t have to commit. I don’t expect you to be my beta, Jey. But I’m offering you space.” He doesn’t allow himself to think beyond it. “For as long as you’d like.”

Jey stares at Cody. He knows he’s waiting for Cody to break, for the other shoe to drop, for the catch.

Cody thinks the catch is having to put up with him during nonworking hours. But he doesn’t say it.

“Okay,” Jey says. His voice has none of the confidence Cody’s used to. “Yeah, when – when I can.”

Cody leans into an impulse and rests his hand on Jey’s where it sits on his thigh. “Whenever,” Cody says. “Whenever you want.”

~

Jey opts to come to Cody’s house the next day, against the advice of Dr. Jackson. Or, as Cody’s known him since grade school, Matt.

“I just think it’s a bad idea,” Matt says, frowning as he looks at the chart. Cody marvels at how he’s managed to keep all that hair looking that good even through transformations. It must take ages. “You could injure yourself more if you’re not monitored during the full moon appropriately.”

“I’ll do it,” Cody offers, before he can stop himself.

Matt turns to him, eyebrow raised. “Did you forget that you’re also a werewolf?”

Cody rolls his eyes. “I have it under control.”

“I have it under control,” Matt mimics, and Cody may be forced to kill him one of these days. “Says the guy who almost got hit by a car when he climbed an eight foot fence.”

“That was fifteen years ago!” Cody says, and he only calms once he sees Jey snickering in the corner. “And we can blame that on stress. And Adam.”

“Leave my dumbass of a husband out of this,” Matt says, glaring.

Eventually, Drs. Jackson agree to let Jey go later that day with constant monitoring.

“That means you don’t sleep alone,” Matt says, staring at Cody. “We can’t risk the possibility of a bleed during the night that no one knows about.”

“That’s fine,” Cody says, automatically, maybe too quickly. “You’re staying with me, anyway.”

Jey’s expression goes unreadable for a moment, something Cody is desperate to better understand. “I am,” he says quietly.

Cody drives as carefully as he can to get back to the house. He can tell Jey’s wincing as they go over speed bumps. He’s never driven like this in his life.

Jey hobbles into the guest bedroom, with Cody attentively following as he bumped into walls in his own home.

“This will be your room,” Cody says. “And, uh. We have the safe room. For when we change Saturday night.”

Jey smiles at him, sweeter than Cody thinks he’ll ever deserve, and settles onto the bed.

“Thank you, Cody,” he says. “This means a lot.”

“It’s nothing,” Cody says.

But he’s lying. This is everything.

~

Jey sleeps two fitful nights and rests two calm days while Cody checks in on him every hour, but the true challenge will be the full moon.

“And this is where we’ll hang out during the moon,” Cody says. The room is comfortable, he thinks, but he’s rarely focused on comfort in here. The place is all able to be hosed down. He has the deer in the fridge, two of them, if their wolves have particular needs to tear.

Jey nods. “Those giant dog beds?”

“In a way,” Cody says. “Cheap mattresses, blankets. Ways to nest.”

Jey smiles. “Always liked to do that. Me and my brother would curl up next to each other like puppies, sometimes. Stopped when we got older.” He walks over to one of the mattresses and nudges at the blankets with his toes. “But this looks nice. Cozy.” He looks up. “You like blue?”

Cody shrugs. “I remembered you said blue’s your favorite color.”

Jey’s face goes unreadable again. “Thanks again,” he says. “For everything.”

~

Cody’s mind is less than focused when he’s the wolf. He knows his humanity is limited, knows his identity is shifted.

But he sees a new wolf in his room, one he’s met but doesn’t yet understand and walks over, curling around him. He noses off the bandages and licks the wounds until the skin is healed over, and curls around his new packmate until the fur grows in. He could be cold. Cody doesn’t want his new Jey to be cold.

Jey Wolf curls into Cody’s side, resting his head on Cody’s leg. He waits until Jey Wolf falls asleep, until his breathing is steady, until Cody can be sure he’s no longer in pain.

He uses his teeth to pull blankets more tightly around them, and allows himself rest.

~

He wakes up warm, wrapped around someone else for the first time ever after a moon. He panics, briefly. And then remembers.

“Jey,” he murmurs, a hand on Jey’s arm. “I’m sorry, man.”

Jey groans, stretching with his eyes closed, and Cody is a horrible man for watching the way all that muscle and skin moves. His eyes open and meet Cody’s with a knowing smile.

“Your wounds have healed,” Cody says, sitting back. He throws a blanket over his lap. “How is everything internally?”

“Pretty good,” Jey says, and he yawns and stretches again. “Really good. Might have been the most comfortable transformation I’ve had in years.” His smile is sheepish, maybe a little sad. “Most of the time would just take care of it in the basement rooms.”

Cody frowns. “Basement rooms?”

“We had these rooms in the basements of our houses, in the neighborhood. Pretty bare bones – safe, but not designed for comfort.” Jey frowns. “Roman didn’t see much use in making them anything more than a utility space.”

“You’re welcome to use this room at any transformation,” Cody says, before he can stop himself. “Even when you decide to leave.”

Cody needs to learn how to read what shows up behind Jey’s eyes, because he can’t find the source of whatever’s there. “Thanks.” Jey finally smiles, and Cody remembers, suddenly, that they are both stark naked.

“Of course,” Cody says. The only way to prevent things from becoming horribly awkward is to wrap one of the blankets around himself. “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll have breakfast ready.”

Jey nods. “You cool if I clean up in here?”

Cody frowns. “We generally have support staff for that.”

“Yeah, but I’m the one who asked for the deer and didn’t do anything with them.” Jey jumps to his feet, and Cody thinks he’s seeing a god unveiled. “Give me, like, ten and I’ll be out.”

Cody walks out of the room, wrapped in the blanket. He thinks he’ll be safe as long as he gets to his bedroom and into the shower, where he can take care of the post transformation boner that’s worse than usual. He realizes, halfway to his bedroom, that he could have just put on the suit from the night before instead of scrambling out of here wrapped in a blanket. He plans on dropping the blanket and sprinting to the mercifully empty bedroom.

Instead, Dustin is standing there in the hallway in front of him, frowning.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks. He studies Cody. “Why do you look like you just got caught –” He wrinkles his nose. “Never mind. Don’t tell me anything.”

“What are you doing here?” Cody hisses.

“Wanted to check on you after the full moon,” Dustin says carefully. “You didn’t answer when I called.”

“I – oh.” Cody realizes he never plugged in his phone the night before. It must be dead in the pile of clothes in the corner of the transformation room. “No, we’re fine.”

“We,” Dustin says. “Do I want to know?”

“It’s not what you think,” Cody says, and he winces. “That – that also isn’t what you think. Stop looking at me like that.”

“Go put on some goddamned clothes and stop being weird,” Dustin demands. “I can’t believe I came all the way over here.”

“You didn’t have to.”

Dustin pulls his hat off of his head and whips Cody in the arm with it. Cody yelps. “Yeah, actually. I do. It’s the job of an older brother.”

There’s a strange thud behind him, and Cody turns to see Jey, now dressed in his clothes from the day before, picking up a picture frame that had fallen.

Cody turns to see Dustin, who has the worst poker face of anyone Cody’s ever known.

“Is that –”

“Dustin, go home,” Cody says, shoving at Dustin. “Go home.”

“I’m asking you about this later!” Dustin yells.

Cody turns to see Jey leaning against the wall. “Good to know Jimmy isn’t the only older brother who oversteps.”

Cody sighs.

“It’s nice to see you less than…” He trails off. “Less suits and cigars, you know?” He smiles, and it goes right to Cody’s heart. “I like it.”

Cody spends the rest of the week letting that comment tattoo itself into his DNA, and doesn’t know how to make it stop.

~

The mistake, Cody thinks, isn’t telling Jey he can use the gym. It’s forgetting to knock.

It’s been a week since Jey’s been staying with him, his late nights on the phone and early mornings waking Cody up for a run becoming commonplace.

It’s a later night at the office, stressful, and he changes into his gym clothes when he’s in the walkin of the gym. He forgoes the shirt. It’s not necessary.

He bounces a little, ready to go straight for the treadmill to run as hard as he can as long as he can. He shoves the door open, and he should have realized on touch that the door opened much too easily.

Jey is standing there, stretched out on the bench. He’s shirtless, shorts hiked high up on his thighs, as he works through the chest press.

Cody knew it was a good investment.

Jey doesn’t even see him at first, so focused on what looks like a pretty heavy set. Cody won’t interrupt. But he’s not a good enough man to avert his eyes.

Jey grunts through the last few reps, sweat dripping down his face and bare chest, and Cody is screwed.

He looks up and smiles. “Oh, hey,” he says, and Cody is not going to get through this as the same man. “Sorry, dude. Is it okay I’m here this late?”

Cody nods. He’s not used to being thrown off. He’s not used to be taken off guard. “Of course,” Cody says. His voice is half the force it usually is. “Anything in this house is yours to use.”

Jey’s expression changes, just enough for Cody to notice it. “Anything?” He’s got an unfairly sweet little smile on his lips, too sweet for a man pressing what appeared to be about Cody’s weight and a half.

Cody swallows. “Of course,” he says again. He can’t find any other words he wants to say. “What, uh. What are you doing?”

“Lifting,” Jey says. He studies Cody. “You good, man? You look sweaty and you haven’t even gotten started.”

Cody bites his tongue and walks toward Jey. “No,” he says, and this is a stupid move, “I haven’t.”

It’s been months since he’s allowed himself this fantasy, years since he’s considered it something he was even allowed to dream about. But he leans down and kisses Jey before he can stop himself. He doesn’t touch beyond lips. He wants to give Jey to chance to push him off.

He doesn’t.

Jey makes a desperate little sound that Cody lets linger on his tongue. And then his hands are on Cody’s waist, yanking him in. Cody swings a leg over the bench and presses his thighs up against the inside of Jey’s.

“Hey,” he murmurs, as Jey’s lips move down Cody’s neck. “Are you –”

“If you back out on me, I’m gonna lose my shit, man,” Jey laughs.

Cody pulls back far enough to really see Jey. To see blown pupils, a slight smile, Cody’s favorite face. “Back out?”

“I can feel you panic.”

“I am not panicking.”

“Yeah?” Jey asks, and his damned smile is too much for Cody to survive without being fundamentally changed. “Prove it.”

Cody doesn’t back down from a challenge. He leans down and kisses Jey the best he knows how to, gathering his legs up around his own hips, grinding down. Jey moans into his mouth, a sound he is already addicted to with one taste, and Cody digs his nails into bare thighs. Jey wraps a leg tightly around Cody’s waist to pull him in more and Cody is so, so glad he forwent the boxers in favor of freeballing it in the gym shorts. He can feel Jey’s cock press up against his through the flimsy fabric, already hard. He could quite possibly be dreaming. If so, he never wants to wake up.

“Cody,” Jey breathes against Cody’s lips. “Cody, I want you.”

Cody intentionally forces the wolf back. It’s the full moon wearing off. It has to be. Otherwise, Jey wouldn’t be saying this. “It’s the moon,” Cody says. He pulls back. “I’m sorry. I forgot how – how things can be, when you’re healing. When you’re around a new alpha.”

“Jesus, Cody, you’re so fucking dense.” But Jey smiles as he says it. “It’s been days, man. And I promise you. No alpha will ever make me do something I don’t want to do.” He licks his lips, eyes flicking down to Cody’s mouth. “Ever again.” He sits up and catches Cody’s lips.

The two of them are covered in sweat, and Cody should be mildly uncomfortable but it makes everything so much better. Jey grabs him by the shoulders and pushes him, and Cody stumbles until they’re falling on the floor. Jey straddles him, dicks so close it’s going to kill Cody, and he rocks down.

“Jey,” Cody says. “Jey, I want –”

“I’m yours,” Jey says, and he rocks again, and Cody loses his vision.

Cody rolls them, drunk on hands and skin, and grabs at the waistband of Jey’s shorts. Jey looks down at him with burning eyes, and Cody pulls.

Jey’s cock springs forth, hard and gorgeous. Cody is suddenly ravenous. He sinks his mouth down, letting every sense of Jey fill his body, his mind. Jey’s fingers slide into his mussed hair. Cody will never cut it again if he gets to feel this.

“Fuck,” Jey chokes. “Fuck, Cody –”

Cody pulls off, pressing a kiss to the head of Jey’s cock. “Yeah?”

“Just.” He’s fighting a smile. Cody can finally read that expression. “Your mouth’s good for more than just making deals, yeah?”

Cody rolls his eyes and sinks back down, pressing Jey’s hips to the gym mat so he can’t thrust up. Jey whimpers and moans, squirms, needy. Cody is only a man sometimes, and otherwise a wolf. It’s risky to allow himself access to something he could so easily devour.

The sounds falling from Jey’s lips are impossible to be without now that he’s heard them once.

Cody takes his time with Jey, eschewing any thought of propriety or risk or danger. For once, he allows himself to have what he wants. Jey, moaning his name, pushing at his hands, asking for more.

“Let – I want –” Jey shifts his hips, panting, muscle straining against Cody’s hands. “Cody, I want…” He trails off.

Cody can’t fight the wolf from behind his eyes as he says, “Anything you ever want,” he swears. “Forever.”

Jey swallows. “I want to come.”

Cody smiles and flashes his canines for just a second before turning back fully human. “Anything you ever want,” he repeats, and sinks back down.

His first impulse is to pull back and let Jey paint his face, but it’s more tempting to swallow him down, taste Jey’s release on his tongue and know he’s the one who gets to claim it. Jey’s mouth is filthy as he lets out a litany of curses and prayers, all of which wrapped up in Cody’s name. He shoves his hips up just once before falling back onto the mat, spent. Cody looks at his face, and Jey is smiling. Beaming, almost.

“Jesus,” Cody murmurs, pushing himself back up to sit on his heels. “You don’t have to look that good, too.”

“You’re not allowed to talk,” Jey mumbles. “Your eyes – looking up…” He locks eyes with Cody. He shifts his weight and throws Cody to the ground, then pulls Cody’s shorts down. His mouth is around Cody’s dick before Cody can even breathe.

“Fucking hell, Jey,” Cody says, head spinning. He’s sure he’s felt this way before, felt this kind of need and focus and curl in his gut. But he can’t find where it was hiding. It feels new to him, a blanket curled around a part of him new and fresh and blooming. He rolls his hips, gently, before he can stop himself, and Jey moans around it, pulling him further into his mouth. Cody’s mind has dissolved into want and need at this point. He’d be shocked if he knew any word other than Jey’s name at this point, and that’s all he’s able to say.

He slides his hand into Jey’s curls, wet with sweat, and Cody hears the wolf demand it all over him, demand to be the cause of it. He grins, remembering that, at least in part, he is responsible for some of the sweat.

He fights the urge to roll his hips into the warm velvet of Jey’s mouth, instead focusing on finding the words that match how he feels. But all he can say, still, is Jey’s name.

“I –” He wants to warn Jey. “Jey, I’m gonna – if you don’t –”

It seems Jey does, in fact, because he pulls Cody all the way to the back of his throat and swallows around Cody. It’s over, with a litany of curses Cody’s found the strength to speak. But it’s Jey’s name at the heart of it all, Jey’s name that strikes the chord in Cody. Jey’s name, that he hasn’t quite earned the right to say. He smooths Jey’s hair from where he’d ruined it, and Jey turns his head to rest his cheek on Cody’s thigh.

“That was the best cardio I’ve ever done,” Cody murmurs, dropping his head back and staring up at the ceiling.

“No kidding,” Jey laughs, and Cody can feel his breath on his skin. Jey sits up slowly, lifting himself so he can lean down and kiss Cody, body hovering inches above him.

Cody wraps his arms around Jey, and allows himself to forget, for right now, that he doesn’t deserve this. Right now, he can pretend to be good enough.

~

Cody left for the office before the sun came up, the night before echoing in his mind so loudly sleep was scared off. He can still feel Jey’s skin on his, feel the salt of his come on his tongue, fell the slight rasp in the back of his throat. He wants more of it, but it’s unfair to ask it of anyone. Let alone Jey.

Somehow, the memories are louder in the office, and he knows there is one solution to working through this. Unfortunately.

He stands and paces his office, organizing his thoughts before writing out the flow chart on the white board. He’s focused, almost too much so. He doesn’t hear his door open.

“That’s detailed as fuck.”

Cody jumps, wishing his wolf senses were a little stronger in human form. He’s ready to bark directions at the intruder, yell at them for coming in without permission.

But it’s Jey. Jey, in running clothes and one of Cody’s hoodies. His heart swells. “Jey.” He looks back at the flowchart and steps in front of it. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t in your room when I went to wake you up for our run,” Jey says. “Only other place you’d be is here.” His smile is gentle, and Cody suddenly realizes Jey sees him as the startled animal. “And I was right.” His eyes flicker behind Cody.

Cody swallows. “Don’t look at that.”

“It’s got my name on it about a hundred times,” Jey muses, stepping up to it. “You really think I’d be doing this all to be reporting back to Roman?”

“No, it’s coded in dark blue,” Cody says, scoffing. Jey stares at him. “Oh. Dark blue is for the impossibilities to near impossibilities.”

Jey’s face softens. “Cody,” he says, “what does green mean?”

Cody glances over to where he’d scribbled Jey chooses me and my pack in green. “That’s the best case scenario,” he near whispers.

Jey turns and walks toward him until Cody’s bumped into his desk. “Best case scenario,” Jey repeats. “This is the best case scenario?”

Cody can’t answer. He can only focus on how close Jey is, how much he feels drawn to him, how much the wolf is screaming that this is his.

Jey drops to his knees. “I want you to be my alpha,” he says, and he looks so goddamned pretty with his eyes so wide that Cody almost forgets this isn’t appropriate. “Among other things.”

“Jey,” he says, fighting the shake in his hands. “Jey, no you don’t.” The best case scenario is never what happens. Not to Cody.

“Says you,” Jey says, and the smile is alarmingly aware. “Maybe I just want to suck your dick in that fine ass suit of yours. Maybe I want to do it with you as my alpha. That’s up to me, isn’t it?”

Cody fights to keep his face steady. “You’re lonely,” Cody says. “And you’re a pack wolf. You’re – you’re sensing the possibility for a connection, that’s all.”

“Oh.” Jey stands up. “Now you’re telling me what I do and don’t feel? You know who that sounds like?”

“Don’t,” Cody growls, and he knows the wolf appears behind his eyes. “You know I am nothing like him.”

“I know.” Somehow, Jey is still smiling. He gets further in Cody’s space. “That’s why I’m here.”

Cody swallows. He’s not used to being challenged like this, especially not by a beta. “Tell me more about why you’re right here, Jey,” he says, and he keeps his hands gripped on the edges of his desk.

“Asking you to be my alpha, man,” Jey says. He rests his hands on Cody’s thighs. “After yesterday, I thought you’d know I want it.” He licks his lips. “Thought you’d know I want you.”

Cody swallows. “Jey.”

“Cody.”

Cody has to smile. “Jey.”

Jey’s kissing him before he even considers pulling away. It’s gentle, sweet, almost. It’s far different from the day before in the gym. He pulls back, realizing only now that his hands had settled on Jey’s hips. “Where is this coming from?” But he knows. He knows it’s for what happened last night.

“Come on, man, you can’t act like you didn’t feel it since back in the day.” His smile etches itself into Cody’s memory. “All those meetings where you and Roman pretended to make deals together just to intimidate each other?” He kneads Cody’s thighs. “You know it was my idea to put us across the table from each other, right? And now…” He presses in closer, and Cody spreads his legs to fit him in between a little better. “Well, now we don’t have to worry about that dick anymore, do we?”

“Not that dick, anyway.”

Jey’s grin grows brighter. “Knew we’ve always been on the same page.”

~

Mini Playlist: Wolves - One Direction Hungry Like the Wolf Animal - The Cab Animal - Neon Trees

#CodyJey #Oops all werewolves #wtf i like wrestling now??? #in which sara writes #sarahcakes613 #I really didn't plan on this one

[ollieofthebeholder]

to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev || AO3 || My website

Chapter 89: July 2017

[CLICK]

JON

Statement of Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute, London, regarding the upcoming…um…operation. Twelfth July, 2017. Recording taken direct from subject.

I-I wanted to get some thoughts down before, um, everything. We all should. I’ll, I’ll mention it to them.

[Deep breath] Martin is home. That…that seems like the most important place to start, honestly. Martin is home. He’s home and he’s safe and…I-I know he feels the trip was a waste of time, that he didn’t learn anything of substance, but he did. Tim’s right, we could never have just gone up to Great Yarmouth and staked out the House of Wax until it looked like things were ready. We have to know. And thanks to Martin, we do. Three days after Orsinov got the skin…or, well, after she called in all her…minions, but I-I rather suspect those are one and the same. She wouldn’t have waited long.

Forty-eight hours. Give or take.

We have a plan. It’s…I don’t know if it’s a good plan, but it’s a plan, and we have it. And it should work. Martin and Melanie and…they picked it over with a fine-toothed comb, and they say it should work. Myself, Daisy, Martin, Melanie or Tim—I’m not sure which right now—and Basira, we’ll be heading up to Great Yarmouth either late tomorrow or early morning the day after, while Sasha and…whoever the other one is stay behind. Gertrude’s notes were very clear. Unless the ritual is underway, anything we do can be easily repaired. But if we time it right, it’ll be centuries, maybe more, before they can try it again. Of course, if we time it wrong…

Daisy has been pretty clear that she thinks her best chance of success is to go in alone, and honestly, I struggle to disagree with her. [sigh] Martin didn’t, though. I don’t know what surprised me more, that he simply told her he was going with or that she didn’t argue. They seem to have come to some kind of…uneasy truce. I think they both have the same feeling, that they need to see it through, and that they need to protect the rest of us. They’re planning on it just being the two of them going, or at least going in.

That—that isn’t happening. Martin isn’t going without me. I, I can’t let him out of my sight, not for that. I just got him back, I—

I don’t care if this is an official record. I don’t care who listens to this outside the Archives. I will say it and I will not deny it. I need him to be safe, and I need to know he’s safe, and the only way I can do that is to go in there with him. So. I’m going. Whether he wants me to or not.

I think Basira feels the same way. About Daisy, I mean. Or at least about letting Daisy go without her. Seeing what they’ve seen, doing what they’ve done…it’s a hell of a bond. I would know. Even if it’s not romantic for them, it’s the same bond Martin and I have. The same bond Martin and Melanie have, too, so she’ll likely be coming along as well. We’ve already discussed it, the rest of us, and we’re in agreement. They’re not going alone.

…

There’s something different about him. I, I can’t put my finger on it. It’s not anything physical. He still looks the same, feels the same, [heh] smells the same. He’s still the same person he’s always been, the same man I—I fell in love with. But there’s a…a confidence? No, that isn’t right. But there’s something. It’s like it’s lurking just under the surface, something I can’t explain, something I can’t reach. Something happened to him while he was gone. All right, yes, I know that’s an understatement. Of course ‘something happened to him’. He was kidnapped, for God’s sake, he was stabbed and nearly died and—I almost lost him. And I never would have known…

[SMALL, STIFLED SOB]

[SNIFF]

B-but it, it’s more than that. I wouldn’t say he came back different, but he came back…with something different, maybe? There’s something I don’t understand. Something he hasn’t said.

There will be time. After. When it’s all said and done. When we get back…we’ll have all the time in the world. I can ask him then, and…and he’ll tell me. I know he will. I trust him.

I love him.

If this is my final message…let it be that.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

BASIRA

Um. Statement of Basira Hussain, twelfth July, 2017, at the request of Jonathan Sims.

I’m not sure why I’m here. I mean, I understand how I got to this point. Just a series of decisions until, yep, this is my life now! But I don’t know why. Does that make sense?

I don’t…I don’t really want to be here. I shouldn’t be here. Martin’s never said anything, but I know he’s disappointed, maybe a little annoyed, that I came back after he told me not to. And he was right, I should have stayed away. But I—I couldn’t abandon Daisy. I couldn’t just give up on her. And the only way I could think of to find her was to come to the Magnus Institute, and now I’m a goddamned hostage. At least I don’t really have it as bad as the others. It’s amazing how much you can ignore when you’ve got your nose in a book.

I’m, I’m trying not to resent the way they’re treating Daisy. I know they don’t understand her. But—they’re not afraid of Martin. I mean, yes, okay, completely different abilities, and he was a librarian, not a cop. But she did what she had to do to survive, just like him. Just like their…other friend. It’s not her fault that what she needs looks scarier to other people. And it’s not like it’s all bad. The things she does have stopped some very dangerous people. And why shouldn’t she enjoy what she needs to sustain herself sometimes? It’s like those dieters who think that if food tastes good, it can’t be healthy. She’s allowed to get some pleasure in it when she can.

…

Martin gets it better, I suppose. Since, you know, he’s the same way she is, especially now. Not hard to see they’re on the same level or whatever. He at least hasn’t been outright hostile to her. She seems about as friendly with him as she ever did anyone else on the force. Dunno if I’d call them friends, but at least they’re standing on the same side, and I think they’ll turn their backs on each other. Daisy doesn’t do that for many people.

I know they don’t see it, but Daisy’s true blue. You always know where you stand with her. I never doubted she had my back in the field when I took the lead, even if I didn’t do it very often. I owe it to her to have her back here.

So yeah, that’s why I’m going. I don’t trust anyone else to care if she comes back alive. Even her, really. She’ll be looking to get the job done, not protect herself. She’ll need someone spotting her, and that someone is going to be me.

It’s nice to have one thing certain in all this. One damned thing I can control.

[DEEP BREATH, SLOW EXHALE]

Maybe that’s why I’m here. Not just to back Daisy up, but these guys get so…bogged down in details. It’s not just not seeing the forest for the trees. They can’t even see where the trail is. Me, I can at least think in a straight line. Control. Balance. Something steady.

I dunno. Maybe I’m overthinking it, too. Maybe there is no reason I’m here. Or maybe why I need to be here is…further out. Maybe I don’t need to be here right now, but if I’m not here now, I won’t be later. I don’t know.

I guess we’ll find out.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

SASHA

Sasha James, archival assistant at The Magnus Institute, London, recording statement…hm…let’s see if I can get this right…0171207…dash…C? Hope we’re dividing these up by letters, otherwise I’ve just fucked up the system. [Slightly nervous giggle] Statement taken direct from subject.

I wish I wasn’t staying. I’m not going to lie. I wish there was a way we could do this without me—without anyone—having to stay back. But someone needs to stay, and I’m not going to be any use in setting bombs, so it’s going to be me.

It should probably be Jon and Tim who stay, let’s be honest. They’ve both been Marked by the Stranger—Tim really, really deeply, and Jon…well, at least, I’m assuming he’s been Marked. Not like any of us have asked Martin to take another Look since that first night, so I could be wrong. Anyway, what if that means Orsinov and her minions come looking for them? Or worse, what if the Marks are so powerful they get drawn into the Unknowing whether they want to or not?

God, choosing to participate is bad enough. Being killed to be used is worse. But being drawn into it, knowing what walking in will do and not being able to stop…even if by some miracle they survived that, they’d never be over it.

Well. I mean. If we don’t stop it, the world’s going to end, too, so there’s that.

I’m scared. I—oh, I didn’t mean to say that. I really don’t want that to be my last words. ‘Here lies Sasha James. She was scared all the time.’ It’s not true, I mean…I’m not scared all the time. But this does scare me. Partly because it’s the Stranger, and, well, it’s our opposite, right? I can only imagine how much we’d all be punished in a world made for it. Partly because it almost killed me once. The Not-Them was definitely after me, and the only reason I’m alive is because I didn’t go near the table that night in Artifact Storage. Partly—mostly—I’m scared for the others.

I mean, what I’m doing, it’s not exactly dangerous. I’m not going to die doing it. Probably. Most likely. It’s the others who are likely to be killed or—unmade, maybe. If things go wrong for me, I probably won’t lose anything but a paycheck or two, at most.

…

I don’t want Melanie to go. I know that’s stupid. Martin will look after her—he’d die before he let her get hurt, or Jon. But I just…I feel better when I know where she is, and that she’s okay. She keeps going off and doing stupid, dangerous shit with Tim and Jon and it’s just—

No. No, I need to be honest. That’s why we’re doing this, right? It’s not that she’s doing dangerous stuff with them. It’s that she’s doing it without me. I want to be there with her. I mean, we worked pretty well together when I went up to Great Yarmouth with her and Tim that time to stake the place out, and [heh] that impromptu make-out session we did to stop the random beat cop from getting suspicious was pretty fun, too.

Yeesh, this is pathetic. And I’m doing it on an official recording. Oh, my God, Martin is going to sk—he’s going to hit the ceiling if he listens to this. So’s Jon…well, maybe not Jon. I bet he spent his fair share of this tape mooning over Martin, too.

Okay. Get it together, Sasha. Make your statement, face your fears.

So. Yeah. I’m afraid something is going to happen to the others. I’m afraid something is going to happen to Melanie in particular, and I’m afraid that something is going to go wrong and the first I’ll know of it is when the world goes weird around me.

I mean, weirder than normal.

And I don’t know what I can do about it. Other than hold up my end of the plan and hope theirs goes well, too.

[DOOR OPENING]

MELANIE

Sasha?

SASHA

Hm?

MELANIE

Elias wants to see us. All of us.

SASHA

Right now?

MELANIE

Yeah. Says it can’t wait.

SASHA

Okay. Coming.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

MELANIE

Melanie King, twelfth of July, 2017, 11:37pm.

Yeah, I took it home to do this, what are you going to do about it? Maybe I wanted to be able to set proper wards. Maybe I don’t want anyone listening in.

I can’t believe Martin actually thought I would stay back. I can’t believe he considered it for even a second. Has he not figured out by now that every single time one of us goes off on our own, something goes horribly wrong? I mean, even when we’re together, things go bad. I’ve thought about making a statement about the Mermaid Inn, just so I stop having the fucking nightmares about it again.

On the whole, I preferred the ones about Aldershot, even if I did have to suffer through knowing Jon was watching, the bastard. I know it wasn’t his fault, but damn it, it just made me so…angry. [Sigh] Still not sure if that was because he was watching like it was a goddamned show or because I knew he didn’t know I knew he was there. After we got to be friends, I guess what made me the angriest was that I knew it was hurting him almost as much as it hurt me, but I couldn’t stop what I was doing and I couldn’t even step out of the patterns of the dreaming far enough to let him know I knew he was there. It just reminded me that I had no control over everything, and I hate that.

I’m angry a lot. I always have been. I feel like I’ve always been fighting. Having brothers like Martin and Gerry especially meant that—not that I had to fight them, but I had to fight for them. Martin would always try to make himself nonthreatening and Gerry would find the spaces in between to slip through, but I never wanted to do that. No one makes space for people like us. You’ve got to elbow the comfortable idiots out of the way and then claw your way up with gritted teeth. I know it sounds stupid to call starting a ghost hunting show a fight, but it was. Tooth and nail. And I did it, and I won. And then it all fell apart, and I can’t even find the point when it did. But I’m still fighting. New package, same patterns. Elias—God, what an asshole. I just want to rip his—

[CAT MEWS]

No, not you, baby. No, Mummy’s busy right now—okay, fine, fine, you can stay. Ow—Jesus, not the claws. There, settle down and be good now.

[PURRING UNDERSCORES THE REST OF THE STATEMENT]

God, when did I start losing the parts of myself that weren’t anger?

When was the last time I teased one of my brothers, or said something that wasn’t either neutral or meant to hurt? I’m not mad at them. Well, maybe a little bit at Martin for trying to be all…white knight, loose cannon, lone wolf type. He doesn’t have to do this alone, and he shouldn’t, and he fucking knows that, but he’s still trying.

I, I hate that. And I hate Mum for doing that to him, for making him think it doesn’t matter if he dies as long as the people around him survive. Not even just the people he cares about, the people he doesn’t even know. Can’t he see that saving the world isn’t going to mean anything to the rest of us if we lose him in the process? If he dies, I will get Gerry to bring him back again just so I can fucking kill him myself.

Losing Gerry like we did is what spelled the end of Ghost Hunt UK. I know that now. I was just so angry and I didn’t have anyone to be angry at, because it was just stupid bad genetics and our usual rotten luck that killed him, so I was angry at the whole universe. It’s why I stayed away from Martin—so I wouldn’t take it out on him—but that just meant I took it out on everyone else I came into contact with, and I know that’s a big part of why we started struggling after that. I’m afraid that will happen again, and—the Archives are different. We, we can’t quit. We’re trapped there, and if we get angry and start falling apart, we’ll just be…trapped with people who hate us, and who we hate, and that’s just going to be miserable for everyone.

But it’s more than that. Tim and Jon, they’re, they’re my brothers, and it’s nothing to do with them being with Gerry and Martin. Jon was my brother before Martin even admitted he was falling for him, and I think Tim would have been, eventually, even if he and Gerry weren’t making the beast with two backs.

I don’t want to lose my family. And I especially don’t want it to be my fault.

[DEEP BREATH]

So Martin is not going to die, and I am going to know who to blame if he gets hurt, and I will direct my anger at the appropriate people if the time comes.

And it looks like if all else fails, I can just cuddle up with you on my chest and I’ll be relaxed in no time.

Heh. Cats. I should’ve got one years ago. They’re better than Prozac.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

DAISY

I don’t know what you want from me.

And whatever it is, you’re not getting it.

…

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Statement of Martin Blackwood…[sigh] the Archivist, in advance of departure for Great Yarmouth. Recorded direct from subject, thirteenth July, 2017. Statement begins.

Everything’s set. We’re leaving in the morning, before sunrise. Daisy left a few minutes ago to “borrow” one of the disused Breekon and Hope vans so we can blend in a little better around the House of Wax, and once she’s sure it’s running properly, she’ll let us all know. Then we’ll meet up here at the Institute and make our way up. I definitely prefer rail travel, but, well, we can’t exactly do that with fifty pounds of plastic explosives in tow. Not without a permit, anyway.

I’m…not surprised, honestly, that the others insisted on coming along. Bit annoyed, but not surprised. If it were the other way around, I wouldn’t want to let Jon out of my sight, either. It’s just…I need them to be safe. And going into the House of Wax is about as far from safe as you can get without coming back in the other direction.

I suppose I should be glad. I mean, at least if they’re with us, I can watch them. I’ll know where they are, and that they’re safe. But I’m worried. The Stranger is—well, unpredictable. Elias wasn’t wrong about that. There’s every chance they’ll be where we don’t expect, do what we haven’t prepared for. It’s not the Web, sure, but it can still lure you in. And I haven’t forgotten that it was Jon trying to smack a spider that caused him to knock the hole in his office wall and let the Corruption out, or that one bit Sasha to tell her where the manual release for the fire suppression system was. Pretty sure there were a few lurking in that shack in the swamp, too. The Web is interested, I’m pretty sure, and if it teams up with the Stranger, God help us.

I’m not just worried. I’m afraid. I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my sister and the man I love to something that very nearly killed me once already and is the antithesis of everything we are, and I’m afraid that I’m going to be so focused on protecting them that I forget to protect Basira and Daisy, and I’m afraid that I’m going to be so distracted by all four of them that I forget to protect myself. And I’m afraid, terribly afraid, that if the Stranger gets hold of me the others will try to rescue me instead of disrupting the ritual. I refuse to be the reason the world ends.

I’m—I’m going to have to talk with Daisy. Again. She’s—[small laugh] fucking terrifying, but she’s also strong and no-nonsense. I trust her. I am putting that on the official record: I trust her. And I am trusting that if it all goes to shit, if I somehow get captured, she won’t waste time trying to get me out, and she won’t let Jon or Melanie waste time or energy on that either. If something happens to me, she needs to get them out, whether they want to go or not.

She will. I know she will.

…

I’ve, I’ve been thinking about a television show I loved when I was a kid. Used to borrow the tapes from the library when I could, too—haven’t watched it in ages, but it’s one of those shows that sticks with you, you know? I’ve had a few lines from it bouncing around my head these last couple days. Everything from Mr. Garibaldi saying that “if we lose, there is no ‘then what’, and if we win, what next” to Kosh saying “the avalanche has already started; it is too late for the pebbles to vote” to that doctor on Downbelow saying “I did the necessary thing. That is not always the same as the right thing.” [Bitter laugh] You know, all kinds of cheerful things like that.

But there are a couple more I keep…coming back to, when things start getting dark. One is Ivanova’s speech at the end of the very last episode, when she talks about what the station meant, and the other, um, was from the third season finale. And, um…maybe it’s not exactly the most professional thing in the world, but…just in case, for posterity, I’m going to try to remember it, exactly the way he said it.

[DEEP BREATH]

[FAINT, GENTLE STATIC]

“There is a greater darkness than the one we fight. It is the darkness of the soul that has lost its way. The war we fight is not against powers and principalities, it is against chaos and despair. Greater than the death of flesh is the death of hope, the death of dreams. Against this peril we can never surrender. The future is all around us, waiting, in moments of transition, to be born in moments of revelation. No one knows the shape of that future or where it will take us. We know only that it is always born in pain.”

[STATIC FADES]

We can’t give up. We have to keep hope.

We’ve got this.

[CLICK]

——��

[CLICK]

TIM

Let the record show that I am only doing this because Jon and Martin both asked me. I fucking hate these things. Maybe a little less knowing that it…well, helped Martin while he was gone, but still. Whatever you are, I think you’re a nosy bastard and I would normally never tell you any of this. But it’s important to them, so…fine.

They’re leaving soon. The others. Well…I mean, “soon,” I don’t know exactly when. It’s, um, it’s late. We stayed at the office later than usual, waiting for Daisy to get back with the van, but then Martin got in touch with her and said she was having trouble. Um, something about the fuel injector? I don’t know, I’m not a car guy. Whatever it is, she said it was going to take longer than she thought, so Martin told us all to go home and try to get some rest. They’ll call when they’re leaving. And when that happens, I guess I’ll be going back to the Institute.

I, I have to see them go. I can’t—I need to know they’re leaving. I know that sounds stupid. Intellectually, I know they’re leaving. Like, there’s no doubt about that. But…I need to see it. I need to watch them walk away—or drive away, whatever—and know that they’re going, and where they’re going.

I didn’t get that with Danny. He was there, and then I woke up the next morning, and he was gone. It was luck—good or bad, who knows—that I even figured out where he went. And I’m—I’m pretty sure he was long gone by the time I got there. What I saw, what I thought—it, it wasn’t Danny. Just a costume, really, or a—a sham over a prop. Like gluing the spine of an old book to a block of wood to save a space on the shelf, but when you pull it down, there’s nothing really there.

I keep trying to remember what the last thing I said to him was. When was the last time I told him I loved him? I mean, he knew, right? He had to. But did I tell him? Did I actually say it, or did I just fuss at him for being an idiot, try to calm him down, and go to bed when nothing worked? It…wasn’t like when we were little. This wasn’t him waking up crying from a dream and me wiping his eyes and making him cocoa and talking him back to reality. It happened, and there was nothing I could have done about that.

I could have tried harder, though.

My earliest memory is of my dad lifting me up so I can see into the crib, showing me this tiny red spud with a shock of black hair sticking up all over the place, and telling me that I have a responsibility now. And then he woke up and just looked at me, and—and the minute I met his eyes, big blue eyes full of wonder and awe, I knew I’d do anything for him. Looking after him was never a burden, you know? It was just a thing I did. [Small laugh] Maybe it would’ve been different if I’d had to, like if we’d had shitty home lives like Martin and Jon and Sasha did, but no, just my little brother tagging along and me making sure he was okay until he was big enough to handle himself, and it was good.

And then there was something he actually needed me to protect him from. And I didn’t.

That’s why I’m staying back. Melanie needs to go, she needs to be there for her brother. And Jon…well, Jon really doesn’t need to go, actually. I think Elias said he needed to stay behind knowing that he wouldn’t, and knowing that Martin wouldn’t fight him too hard, so if something awful does happen and Jon…um, gets hurt…Martin will spiral into guilt, and probably be easier to manipulate into doing something really goddamn stupid under the guise of protecting the rest of us. Basira won’t be any help, so if anyone is staying to help Sasha, it’s going to be me.

Which, hey. At least I get to take this case of the mean reds out on something.

[Sigh] Good luck, everyone. Bring the house down. I’ll be waiting for you when you get home.

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

GERRY

Never talked to one of these before. Gertrude barely let me near them, and I didn’t put my statement on tape when I first got back. Didn’t need to, really, they were all there, and we weren’t sure back then if anyone else was listening to them. Can’t risk the Supreme Bastard knowing I’m alive, after all. Well [bitter laugh], for a given value of alive, anyway.

But if this goes right, he won’t have a chance to find out, so…I might as well get my thoughts on the record, too.

Tim…he’s, uh, he’s sleeping. I managed to convince him to lie down after he finished his part of the tape, and for all he claimed he wasn’t tired, he’s snoring right now with his head in my lap. Going to try not to wake him up. Me, I haven’t slept since Martin got home. I can’t risk it. Every time I start thinking about sleeping…well, that’s when I’m at my most vulnerable, I guess. That’s when the flashbacks come on. They might not always be bad, but, uh, [nervous laugh] I don’t want to run the risk that I’m going to either relive something inconvenient in my life or go through someone else’s near death experience that leads to me seeing all the flaws in this plan or worrying too much about everyone dying, so, no. I can sleep when it’s all over.

I’m going. Tomorrow. Martin doesn’t know that—neither does Melanie, come to think of it—but I am. They’re probably both going to throw a wobbly and try to talk me out of it, but come on. It’s like the biggest Leitner we’ve ever tried to burn. They need me there.

That’s what I plan to tell them, anyway. And it’s the truth. Part of the truth. Really, though, it’s that I need to protect them. I—I can’t let them go into a dangerous situation without me, not when I’m able to go with them. Even apart from the usual…this, this thing I can do, I can see if they’re about to die and…well, prevent it by not touching them. I don’t even have to know the details of how they’re going to die. I just have to not poke the death point.

Martin can probably use another pair of eyes watching everyone’s back, too. He told me about his new…position. God, I hope he gets a raise out of it too…anyway, he’s now officially responsible for the others instead of just feeling responsible for them, so he’s going to be even more anxious about them on top of being anxious about stopping the Unknowing. And I can’t die—probably—so I’m as good a bodyguard as anyone.

Besides that. I promised Tim that if there’s—if anything goes really wrong, if there’s someone there who’s…I won’t let them suffer. I, I can reap…souls, I guess, without them being on the cusp of dying. I try not to, because those [sigh] are more substantial than the already-dying ones and I don’t want to get addicted to that, but it’s a thing I can do. So if there are people there that are…trapped, between living and dying, caught in a cycle of perpetual undeath as they await the Dance…I should be able to, um, pull them to one side.

Probably not the side they’d prefer, but—

[BUZZING]

[MIDI VERSION OF OPERATIC ARIA BEGINS PLAYING]

What—oh, really, Tim?

TIM

Huh? Wha?

GERRY

I get why your ringtone for Martin is an aria, but does it have to be from I Pagliacci?

TIM

I don’t know anything about operas, okay? I just grabbed something at random.

[RINGING AND BUZZING STOPS]

Hey, Marto. What’s up?

…

I’ll be right there.

…

The fuck I don’t. I’m on my way, okay?

…Yeah, see you soon.

They’re getting ready to go.

GERRY

It’s two in the goddamn morning.

TIM

Traffic will probably be better.

[GERRY SIGHS]

GERRY

Right. I’ll meet them at the north end of Brompton.

TIM

I’ll tell them.

…Be careful, okay?

GERRY

I will. I promise.

[KISS]

[CLICK]

———

[CLICK]

ARCHIVIST

Right, we’re getting ready to leave now. Tim brought this back with him when he came to say—to wish us luck, and I asked everyone to give me a second before I go out to join them.

I’m locking this in Tim’s desk drawer so it doesn’t accidentally get used…somehow. If we don’t come back, o-or we come back wrong, or different, this might be the only record of us, and I want it safe.

If you’re listening to this, and you’re not on this tape…find Tim and Sasha. Timothy Stoker and Sasha James. They should be around the Archives somewhere, and they’ll explain everything you need to know. There’s a Polaroid taped to the back of this—make sure they match. They’ll, they’ll be able to explain that, too.

If you are on this tape, and you’re listening to this because…well, because one of us didn’t come back…I’m sorry. I am. I’m sorry that this is the last recording you have of whoever…i-it’s probably, no, definitely me. I’m not losing them, and I will give my last breath to protect them, so if you’re listening to hear someone’s voice, it’s probably mine.

But if you’re able to listen, that means it was worth it.

[CLICK]

#ollie writes fanfic #the magnus archives #tma fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest) #jonathan sims #basira hussain #sasha james #melanie king #daisy tonner #martin blackwood #tim stoker #gerry keay #unreality #foreboding #justifications #mention of loss of control #anger #loss of a sibling

[saintsir4n]

Hi Girl,

I’ve literally just come back from work but I’ve been thinking about you all day none stop and felt like I had to get this out, I want to thank you for your stories and your art as it never fails to amaze me. It’s artistically beautiful the way you write these characters being in love with their respective black love interests. Growing up as a bookworm, I found it impossible to find stories or especially fics that have black love interests not written in specific ways. However, you manage to achieve this so naturally and make it heartwarming to be seen as a possible love interests to characters that we’ve either fell in love with or thirsted over. I just finished Stereo Love and your Saltburn fic and both are just written in a way where it’s obvious the main character is the centre of her love interests world and that she truly is the epitome of beauty to them. Growing up, it’s been hard for many black girls (including myself) to feel desired and loved romantically, so thank you truly and I so can’t wait for what you have in store for us. Most importantly, looking after yourself is the most important so just know we your fans truly have the best interests for you in terms of treating yourself kindly. All the best lovely, I thought I would just give my two cents.

PS: do you mind giving your top ten male crushes (they can be fictional, from television or movies) and these can be current or like childhood crushes?!

Lots of love- 🐜

Honestly, this love and appreciation is making me cry. The type of support I’m receiving today is amazing and very heart warming. I try to write my characters as authentic and true to not just me to black readers, black girls and women. Growing up being black wasn’t as popular or glamorous as people showcasing today and I’m glad our people are being made to feel like themselves in spaces where we’re usually ostracised, so I’m glad that these stories speak to or help people. When I write my OCs I like to write them as desired, or loved, considering the lack of roles for black women in shows/films/books where we are seen in such a way.

After understanding the love interests (Felix Catton and Brian O’Conner) and how they view their respected partners I find it easier to insert my OC, of course I have to acknowledge the role of their race before hand whether it’s subtle or integral to the plot of my stories or canon.

At first when I started writing I didn’t know which part of the black experience to include, without bringing people out of their “fantasy”. Many people equate blackness with struggle or negativity, when there are so many positive and popular things we do whether it’s our hair, our style, our music or just us overall especially in the eras these films were set in/ released (early 2000s)

I’m glad you’re enjoying my stories, the next one I’m publishing is a House of The Dragon book, hope you’re interested. And I also hope you’re taking care of yourself as I try to. I’m so blessed to have this comment honestly as well as fans like you!

And atm for my TOP TEN MALE crushes (fictional/non fictional):

1. Jon Snow. Kit Harrington this role… I can’t get over his season 6 appearance. Most Targaryen men are good looking and yes people still say he’s a stark, which he is but damn, he’s something else.

2. Xolo Maridueña (Miguel Diaz from CK) love the actor in the show, he’s fine as hell especially with his longer hair and is thankfully older than me.

3. Damson Idris. Stunning, great smile, talented too!

4. Cillian Murphy. Must I explain this one?

5. Dylan O’brien. ALWAYS I just hope he doesn’t do some bs and let me down.

6. Brian O’Conner (specifically in the first and second films)

7. Kingsley Ben Adir. This man is just tall and fine.

8. Zayn. Been rocking with him since 2011 and his amazing voice.

9. Hector Bellerin. Just like Zayn, they’re fine men. And even though I don’t watch football, I watch his clips and that’s enough.

10. Lando Johnson. I only watch clips of All American Homecoming, I watched the original show up until season 3 and won’t start watching the spin off until I find out Simone ends up with Lando and his beautiful self.

This list took me a WHILE, especially for top 1, but I landed on Jon Snow, because how he is with a sword, his hair and how everyone in Westeros calls him pretty. Plus I did write a story for him a while ago, which I want to add to or change up in the future.

#rush fanfic #felix catton x black!reader #felix catton #saltburn #calypso danforth #calypso #2006 #2007 #the fast and the furious #stereolove #brian o’conner x carson baker #carsonbaker #brian and sonny #sonnybaker #2001 #brian o’conner x black!reader #brianoconnerfanfic #black racer #brian o’conner x reader #Jon snow #xolo maridueña #Zayn #lando johnson #hector bellerin #dylan o'brien #kingsley ben adir #cillian murphy

[brekker-by-brekkerr]

live reaction 3x08 part 1

Starting off strong with some Jetwen and Caswen content okay

Oh no Big Red this is so awkward oh my stars

Ricky hasn’t even read the whole show?? What the heck?? Like, I’ve been trying to give him somewhat of a pass because even though he doesn’t have as much responsibility as EJ, he has some responsibility as the lead, but the fact that he hasn’t even read the show…like I get they only have two weeks to perform it but the least you could do is take the time to read the whole script. This just goes to show how little everyone is doing in comparison to EJ and once again this is not fair at all. Especially since EJ and Ricky are the same age now you can’t even say EJ “deserves” it because he’s older (which is also such a fricked up thing to say in the first place)

Having Emmy (I think that’s her name) sing the beginning of this is real…I have no investment in this child she’s barely been in this season lol. Okay I think it somewhat makes sense but still

Ahh everyone looks so good in their costumes

Oh this is the first time we’ve seen Jet in his costume. I wonder if we’ll get to hear him sing Hans of the Southern Isles. I hope so but like I also hope we get to hear Monster and Dangerous to Dream and so many other songs from the musical, at least clips of them. That’s the thing about having original songs and camp rock songs and high school musical songs in one season; we barely get any from each which is sad. But we’re getting Kristoff’s Lullaby!! I’m excited

“Your boyfriend is adorable” “So’s Madison” oh we all see what’s happening here oh my stars

The funny thing about Channing making them do things differently than how they rehearsed is that’s exactly what Miss Jenn did with Beauty and the Beast

“Elton!!” every time someone calls him Elton I’m living for it

“You sure?” Ricky shut the frick up EJ is the one making everything happen so you’re not allowed to have opinions sorry

Ricky and Jet fist bump stars I wish they could have been explored (I know it was ever going to happen before someone comes at me they’re just a dearly loved crackship okay)

Gina!! The way she’s looking at EJ with so much concern like my heart’s breaking

NINI!!! MY LOVE YOU’RE BACK!!!!!!!

I know Nini has to leave bc Olivia’s leaving but I hate it and it’s sad because it doesn’t really make sense since we already saw her leave then realise her home is with the Wildcats

She’s not going to be at the campfire and it’s going to hurt so much

I really appreciate the “these things don’t go away in a night” comment because in a lot of shows like this they would. They would sing a song or be like wow I was brave! And then their mental health is great when that’s not really how it works

I just wish we got similar attention paid to EJ and his anxiety. The fact that he’s directing the show tonight and we don’t get to see how he’s doing or have conversations with him

Is Big Red about to reveal he’s gay

I LOVE that Kourtney is getting this screen time and actual care given to her story and this anxiety plotline is being handled SO WELL I love this. Kourtney <333333

NOOO Big Red what’s going on I really thought he was about to say “at the pizza shop I met a boy” or something not that his parents met at their age

Ah that was kind of sweet this is sad

Her going in for a hug instead of a kiss. “I’ve never been better” when she means at camp without him is like Nancy saying she was glad Jon wasn’t there

KOURTNEY!! She looks AMAZING AND SHE SOUNDS SO GOOD THIS IS HER MOMENT. Her voice fits this song SO WELL chills

The wildcat fam smiling at her backstage because they’re all like heck yeah that’s our talented sister we love her. Like the growth from season 1 when she had to go onstage last minute to now she’s one of the leads and she’s killing it I love her I love this

Channing you’re funny but go away go away don’t do anything to Kourt’s performance

CHANNING

Kourtney I’m going to cry this is so good the confidence like anyone would be shook by that interruption and by having to sing without music but especially when you’re already fighting your anxiety…I’m so proud of her

Nini proudly watching from the wings same girl

THANK YOU Gina. “Don’t get me started” yes yes yes I love her

Okay Jet he’s really getting into it

THE TRANSFORMATION

Kourtney is an icon okay

Gina and Ash hugging because that’s their sister I love this so much

“If anyone sees Channing, punch him.” I love you Maddox

Ricky’s face when he said “Nini’s here” literally broke me I want to throw up. They have such a strong connection and I was worried the show would just forget that like even just as friends like we’re talking childhood besties who GAVE EACH OTHER THEIR NICKNAMES stop im crying

If we don’t get a ricky and nini goodbye I will RIOT

NINI AND KOURT!! NINI SETTING UP THE ROOM FOR HER SHE’S SO SWEET I LOVE HER

This better not be their last goodbye I am EMOTIONALLY UNSTABLE stop it

“We’re glad you came back” me as well

I love Ricky I love him getting pissed at Channing

The stage looks so pretty! KRISTOFF’S LULLABY I’M SO EXCITED AHH

EJ in the background looking depressed as all get out stop

PORTWELL LOOKING AT EACH OTHER ACROSS THE WINGS PLEASE STOP

I freaking love this song you don’t understand and JB is doing it so much justice it’s so good

EJ looking like he’s going to cry because Gina’s what he knows about love. stop it this is not allowed this should be illegal

Val is so pretty!!

He’s going to call his dad isn’t he

Thank you we’re getting someone supporting him and time spent on EJ thank you

My heart is breaking for EJ I fricking hate cash caswell

The break in his voice when he says “I’m proud of you EJ. How hard is that.” And Val’s encouraging nods I can’t I can’t I can’t

CASH CASWELL F*CKING HUNG UP ON HIM I HATE THIS MAN I HATE HIM I HATE HIM

EJ’s going to cry I’m going to cry

EJ has been through so much this season my heart hurts

THAT’S MY ANNA AND ELSA

The snow this moment is so pretty and magical

NO I knew she wouldn’t be there I’m going to cry

The fact that Ricky didn’t get a letter better mean she’s giving him a goodbye in person

NO WHY IS SHE LEAVING without even so much as a goodbye to Ricky

We’re talking best friends since they were babies why why can’t they at least get idk a fricking hug

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts spoilers #hsmtmts season 3 #hsmtmts 3 #high school musical the musical the series #high school musical the series #jetwen #portwell #nini salazar roberts #kourtney greene #ashlyn x maddox

[the1northlanderprincess]

armony episode 4 review

Okay, this week was a LOT better for armony content, and some of it was rather lovely. So, let’s get into it right away.

Before I talk about scenes with Thony and Arman in them, I just have to mention the fact that Nadia felt the need to bring up Thony on two separate occasions, and she’ll bring it up again next week. I wonder how many more times it will take until Arman chooses to outright ignore her?

So, I was right when Thony suggested to Fiona that they bring in Arman, and she would refuse, because of his reputation. But while Fiona is out, Thony calls him anyway, which displeases Fiona. When he arrives, Thony and Arman exchange quiet greetings, then he introduces himself to Fiona, whose reaction to him is absolutely hilarious. He gets a kick out of it, too. He sets his eyes on Thony again, who tells him where Jon is. Arman goes into the bathroom, only to pop back out and ask Thony if she tied Jon up. She says yes, and he responds, “it looks like you learned a few things”, followed up with a wicked smile. Okay, so I inferred last week that arman would be proud of Thony handling things, but this exceeded my expectations. I mean, how hot was that? It was more than just pride, it was laced with passion and want. His voice? Deep and husky. Hot dang. It’s been too long since we’ve seen him like that (by the way, he’s SUCH a hypocrite when he told Nadia that he doesn’t like the way Kamdar looks at her**).

Arman checks to see that Jon is good and secure though unconscious. While they wait, Thony and Arman talk. She apologizes for making such a call, and he shrugs it off, saying it’s fine. Likely not convinced, she asks if he’s ok. He explains he took care of something for Kamdar. Thony inquires about his association with Kamdar, and he gives her the gist. He senses that Thony is a bit unnerved, and, with a concerned expression, he asks if Kamdar mentioned stuff to her. She tells him about Kamdar beating up his guy. arman says that there is a reason he didn’t want Nadia to go to him She asks what might happen if he can’t repay the debt, he says in a strained voice that he will, that he has to. His phone goes off. It’s Nadia, demanding where he’s at. He sighs and goes silent, and Nadia instantly knows he’s with Thony. He’s like, don’t be like this, she needs my help. Nadia retorts, “she always needs your help,” and hangs up. Thony overhears and apologizes if she’s causing problems for him. Arman tells her it’s never a problem where she’s concerned, his expression totally reassuring. While all this is going on, Fiona is watching like 👀. She was very studious of their interactions, but I don't think she's quite figured out their true relationship.

Later, when all three are in the bathroom, Arman tells Thony and Fiona to leave, and he'll take care of Jon from here. Fiona asks what that means, but Thony knows, and she's like, "Arman, no." Fiona figures it out, and she tells him they're not murderers. He snidely remarks to her, "isn't that why you called?" Even though he knows full well Thony is the one who called. He continues, saying this guy is a witness, knows too much. Thony argues that she was a witness and he didn’t kill her. Arman replies softly that she’s different. She shakes her head, almost not believing him. She counters that she was scared, and Arman's lips twitch, remembering and possibly wanting to say something. Thony believes that if they can scare Jon good enough, he’ll give up the password. So Thony tells them they need ice to wake him up. 

Okay, can we just talk about the expression on Arman's face as he tells Thony she’s different? It’s one of pure love and adoration; there’s a faint smile on his lips that reaches his eyes. It’s beautiful, and something I don’t think we’ve seen from him. Plus, his words hold double meaning. She’s “different” because he knows who she is deep down. Thony’s not some dodgy character like Jon who wants money for malevolent reasons. She’s a fearless mother, with a kind and caring spirit. But she’s also different from any woman who’s been in his life; she’s special and sacred to him.

Once Jon wakes up, he sees Arman staring at him. When he asks who he is, Arman gives him a monologue of being the one who decides his fate. Thony pipes in, saying they just want the password. Jon isn’t exactly thrilled she brought Arman into this to torture him. Arman then interjects, demanding Jon to leave Thony and Fiona alone, give them what they want, and keep his mouth shut, he’ll get to live. Jon angrily says arman should just shoot him now, seeing as his life doesn’t mean anything anyway. Thony gets a strange gleam in her eye, saying that it does. She kneels down slowly and explains about how she’s a surgeon and says she sells organs on the red market. Thony then begins to touch Jon, telling him what each organ would cost. Meanwhile, Arman is just sitting there patiently and quietly with a smug expression. He freaks out, asking what’s she taken. She assures him nothing yet, then offers up, with a whisper of charming malice on her face, that she can even take his skin. Thony threatens to take everything one by one if he doesn’t give up the password. Arman issues an ultimatum, and Jon caves, telling him he’ll hand it over as long as Arman doesn’t let Thony cut him up. Jon gives him the password, and Arman inquires if that is the only file, and he swears it is. Arman looks up at Thony, who toughens her expression, and orders, actually orders, Arman to watch Jon until she and Fiona get back.

The producers weren’t kidding when they let on that Thony would explore a darker side. Holy crap, she was just so calculated in a subtle way, it was truly scary. Arman was just eating it up. Seriously, he was incredibly pleased to see how far she’s come. His smile is haughty and keeps his eyes on Jon most of the time, but there is a second where he lifts them up to Thony, and his smile is similar to that of earlier. 

after they erase the file, Thony and Fiona begin to clean up the office. Fiona tells Thony she changed when she was conversing with Arman. Then she becomes compassionate, realizing Thony does trust him. But she asks why, knowing who he is. Thony doesn’t hesitate when she answers, “because he shows up when I need him”. I have a feeling that this is foreshadowing in an opposite direction, but, for now, let me focus on the line at present. I think this goes back to Marco’s treatment of her when in Manila. He was a crappy husband and did crappy things, but here’s a man who puts her first, loves her for who she is.

Thony and Fiona get back to the room, where Arman is waiting. He asks if they deleted the video, to which Thony says yes, but there were copies. This angers him that Jon lied. Thony just goes off, saying Arman was right, and he reiterates that extortion will never end. Fi knows what this means but she doesn’t want it. Arman calmly tells her that she doesn’t have to, that he promised to protect her family and he’ll take care of it. Thony can sense her fear, and asks if she can have a moment with Fiona, and he obliges. She tells her because Chris is her son, it’s her decision. She knows what has to happen, and gets angry at Jon, wondering why he’s done it. Thony doesn’t know, yet tells Fiona that he can’t be trusted. Hardening her expression, Fiona looks at arman and tells him, “whatever happens, happens.” He nods solemnly. Fiona then takes her leave, Before Thony follows, she glances back at Arman, who assures her, “it’s okay.”

There are a couple of really nice moments in this scene between Thony and Arman. First, she touches his arm before talking with Fiona. It seemed to be something to ground herself before talking it straight with Fiona. She had to know that he was there with her, that touching him would give her some kind of power. Then, we have the moment where she looks back at him. His head bobs, reassuring her it’s okay to leave, though the somber tone of his voice says otherwise. He’s sad that they found themselves in this situation, and it hurts him that Thony is so torn over this, and that he even has to carry out the unthinkable, which he was hesitant to do before, The fact that he goes through with it shows us just how much Thony and her livelihood is important to him. If there’s not a declaration from him this season, I’m calling foul.

#armony #the cleaning lady #**not entirely sold on it being outright jealousy #this is a novella

[moon-ruled-rising]

For writing ask game: (ABSOLUTELY ADORE AS THE RAIN HIDES THE STARS BY THE WAY!) Do you tell people in real life that you write fic? and Post a snippet of a WIP?

Hi Anon! Thank you so much for this ask.

Only my close friends know that I write fic. Writing is such a huge part of who I am that it's easier to tell them than try to jump through hoops avoiding it. The only reason my parents know is because I'm always writing, typing, or reading something. Despite my many explanations, they still ask why I can't make money off of it.

Hmmmm, what WIP to choose.... how about a little "as the rain hides the stars"?

Her fingers inched across the sheets— closer to him. She wanted to trace every angle, follow the veins to their source. At her delicate touch, Jon hummed, drawing her into his warm embrace.

Dany laughed, “And here I thought I actually woke up before you.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, “Not likely.”

She tucked herself closer, his heartbeat thrumming in her ear.

“We don’t have to leave, do we?”

“No. We’ve got all day.”

“Never were words so sweet.”

“Oh, a poet are we?”

“You love it.”

“Hm, I do.” She kissed the hollow of this throat softly, “And I love your curls, have I ever told you that?”

She toyed with a tendril within her reach, bringing a smile to Jon’s face.

“No, I don’t think you have.”

“You must get them from your mother,” Dany wondered.

From all the Stark men she met, excluding Robb, their hair was dark but straight.

“You never talk about her,” she noted.

The way he tensed, brows cinching, sent guilt through her.

“I don’t mean to—”

“It’s alright.” He smoothed a tendril of hair away from her face. “I don’t know her.”

“Really?”

“She’s one of the only topics my father won’t discuss with me, or anyone. Ask him anything, from politics to weather, and he’ll gladly tell you his opinion but the moment it comes to my mother, he shuts down. I couldn’t describe her if I tried.”

“Well, you can have mine, if that helps you any.”

Dany chuffed after she said it. 

It was a silly thought but Jon smiled all the same. “I don’t know what she looks like either, I’m afraid.”

“I hardly remember. I’ve only seen her face in photos and my dad stopped talking about her a few years after it happened. Don’t get me wrong, I’m very grateful to have what I do, but—”

“It’s still unfair.”

“Yeah.”

“I get it.”

“Everyone says I look like her. Especially in the eyes.”

“I love your eyes.”

Dany giggled, “She would’ve liked you.”

“She seems like a lovely woman.”

“She was. The people loved her too from what I’ve heard. Everyone took her death really hard.”

#brie's ask box: answered #ask a writer #fanfic #jonerys

[everygame]

Soccer (NES)

Developed/Published by: Intelligent Systems / Nintendo Released: 2/2/1985 Completed: 12/07/2022 Completion: Beat four levels of difficulty while fighting off boredom as “GBR” which because they’re the team in blue I decided were actually Scotland. Take that, “Federal Republic of Germany”! Version Played: Switch Online Trophies / Achievements: n/a

Well, I’ve suffered through Tennis, and Baseball, and all these other frankly pretty rancid early NES games from Nintendo, so how bad can Soccer be? I mean, I like football, so at least I can accurately judg–[starts projectile vomiting]

It’s… it’s bad, guys. It’s bad. Something that has struck me about Nintendo’s NES sports games is how perfunctory they are. There’s no charm, no spark, and no sense that anyone involved is trying to make a fun video game as much as tick off the box that says “the Famicom has a [name of sport] game”. And apart from some slightly nicer graphics, you’re really not feeling a massive jump from pre-crash video gaming here.

Soccer, for example, is as bare-bones as you get, offering the ability to play friendlies against a variety of (identical) six-a-side teams with a five point difficulty setting. Six-a-side is disappointing (but not particularly unusual in this era) but what’s really the problem here is that the game is so slowww. Actually… not just slow, horribly disjointed? You see, Soccer has the (I guess) noble aims to simulate the experience of actually dribbling a ball, with players kicking the ball each time they move, but rather than fluid movement it’s more like the way toddlers play football–they run to the ball, stop moving, kick the ball, and so on. This makes everything not just slow, but feel unresponsive, as you really can’t do anything unless you’re at the right point in an animation, making it all feel a bit random.

Of course, as with all of the other sports games for NES, my mistake ultimately is to be playing this against the AI, which here might be more horrible than anything we’ve seen before. The opposing team and your teammates seem to have no intelligence on any level of difficulty (the small pitch doesn’t give them much to do, to be fair) and raising difficulty just means that if you put it on the highest level instead of scoring every time the opposing goalie will make a beeline for you when you get close to the goal and take the ball off you (there’s really no lateral movement when you’re dribbling in this game it’s so slow and unresponsive.)

I sort of can’t imagine this was especially enjoyed by people playing it in multiplayer though.

Will I ever play it again? No.

Final Thought: I was mildly interested if I’ve been unnecessarily unfair with judging this with modern eyes considering this is from 1985, and in my head I was like “this is bloody worse than a Spectrum game.” Well, if I’m going to be completely fair… the Spectrum did honestly had better (and deeper) footy games! with Jon Ritman’s first Match Day (released in 1984) is at least as good as this, never mind Match Day II or the likes of Microprose Soccer (Sensible Soccer’s predecessor) showing up a few years later in ‘88.

My suspicion, actually, is that Nintendo’s Soccer is essentially a clone of International Soccer, released for the Commodore 64 in 1983, but as usual I have no way to verify that because… how would I. I have no idea if Nintendo designers had even seen a Commodore 64 at the time. But there’s more than enough similarity between these… and somehow Nintendo’s version still comes off worse!

Support Every Game I’ve Finished on ko-fi, either via a one-off donation (pay what you like) or by joining as a supporter at just $1 a month and get articles like this a week early.

#video games #games #gaming #soccer #nintendo #intelligent systems #review #text #txt #1985 #nes #famicom

[cuttoothed]

Fic for day 3 of @jonmartinweek for the prompt "Healing & Recovery". We've all been saying jmart need a lot of therapy after the finale, so...yeah.

Disclaimer: I have never been to couple's therapy. I have done some reading on it, but this is not intended in any way to accurately reflect real world therapy practices. Please just assume that anything "off" is due to the way couple's therapy is practiced in AU-land (though of course feel free to let me know if you spot anything egregious).

*

“Why don’t you start,” Judith suggests, “By telling me about the incident?”

The two men on the sofa give her identical startled looks, as if she’s uncovered something incriminating. Martin seems to regain his composure first; he clears his throat, and his hand moves to cover Jon’s, unconsciously protective.

“Sorry, wh-what do you mean by “incident”?”

“For most couples who come to see me, there’s an...inciting incident,” Judith explains. “Something that makes them realize they could use some professional support to work through things. Of course any couple can benefit from seeing a therapist together on occasion, to deal with small issues before they become big ones. But, well, it’s the same way that everyone knows they should go for regular check ups with their GP rather than waiting until they actually get sick—it’s just not something most people get around to until they need it.”

She pauses to give them time to consider that, and after a moment Jon nods, looking mildly embarrassed.

“Right,” he says. “That’s, ah, I think that’s fair.”

“There are pretty strong extenuating circumstances, though,” Martin huffs defensively. “We didn’t exactly have the option for therapy in the a—wh-where we lived before.”

“It’s not intended as a criticism,” Judith tells him. “You’ve chosen to talk to a therapist, and that’s a big step—one that many people never take. You’re ahead of the curve, Martin.”

Martin looks mollified at that; he’s clearly a bit touchy about perceived criticisms of their relationship, and Judith doesn’t want to get him on the defensive. She gives them both an encouraging smile.

“So,” she says. “Is there an incident you’d like to talk about?”

The two of them look at each other expectantly, as if each is waiting for the other to start. After several long moments of silence, Jon raises his eyebrows meaningfully, and Martin sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “So, we, uh, we recently realized that our...garden was a-a bit of a mess. So we—Jon and I—we get together with our...housemates, to figure out what kind of flowers we should plant. Fuschias or—or hydrangeas. ”

He pauses to glance nervously at Jon, who gives him a reassuring nod, squeezing his hand.

Right, Judith thinks, This is probably not about flowers.

“We agree we all want fuschias,” Martin continues, “Except Jon—he wanted hydrangeas. But we took a vote, and it was fuschias.”

“Except of course most of our—our housemates weren’t there for that meeting,” Jon interjects, folding his arms across his chest.

“Yes, but we agreed we couldn’t wait to ask every single person,” Martin says sharply, back on the defensive. Jon’s brow furrows and his mouth opens as if to say something, but he changes his mind and shuts it again. Conflict aversion is one of the most common dysfunctions Judith sees in the couples she treats; very few people want to disagree with the person they love, and even fewer know how to have a constructive conflict. She makes a mental note of it for later.

“Go ahead, Martin,’ she suggests gently. Martin looks unhappy, but continues.

“So we agree to plant the fuschias the next day, but Jon—Jon sneaks out in the middle of the night and starts, uh, planting hydrangeas. Without telling anyone.”

Without telling me, Judith hears in his hurt tone. Jon’s arms are still folded, and he’s almost squirming in his seat with the effort to not interject; Judith decides it’s a good time to invite him into the story.

“Jon, why did you feel so strongly about the hydrangeas?”

“It’s—it wasn’t that I wanted hydrangeas, I just couldn’t a-accept the idea of—of fuchsias.”

“Couldn’t allow it, you mean,” Martin grumbles. Judith lets it pass and continues to focus on Jon.

“Why is that?”

“They, uh, they spread…” Jon waves his hands vaguely. “Their—their...roots? They would get into the, uh, the neighbors’ gardens, completely take over, destroy everything.”

“Potentially,” Martin insists. “There was no guarantee—”

“There was no reason they wouldn’t,” Jon snaps.

By now Judith is not only sure that this has nothing to do with gardening, but suspects that neither of these men has ever seen a fuchsia in their lives. It’s fine, though. This is far from the first time a client has invented a story out of whole cloth so they can work through something uncomfortable without actually describing it. And this is their first session; Judith hopes in the future they’ll trust her enough to give her the real story.

“Remember,” she tells them. “We’re not here to decide that someone was objectively right or wrong, we’re here to help you understand each other and improve your communication skills.”

“Right,” Martin mutters, unconvinced. Jon’s expression is distressed, but he continues.

“There was no other choice,” he says wearily. “The only other option was—was azaleas, and I know you didn’t want that, Martin.”

“Absolutely not.” Martin sounds horrified. “But hydrangeas, Jon? Do you really think that was a better option?”

“You have to see the difference.” Jon’s tone goes stiff and incredulous, as if he’s winding up for a lecture, and Judith decides to cut that off before it starts.

“So what I’m hearing,” she says, “Is that you both had very strong, conflicting opinions on this topic. And that’s okay—it’s okay for you to disagree, even on something important. You’re not always going to agree on what the right thing to do is. Often there is no single “right thing,” so it comes down to how the different choices make us feel.”

“That doesn’t seem like a good way to make a decision that affects the wh—a lot of people.” Jon clearly considers that his opinion on not-flowers was the objectively correct one. Judith smiles.

“People aren’t computers, Jon. Even the most logical minded person in the world is influenced by their feelings—about important issues, about other people. You’d be surprised at how much of our decision making is rooted in emotion; either how we anticipate the outcome of our decision will make us feel, or how we are feeling in the immediate moment of the choice.”

A spasm of something that might be grief or pain flashes across Jon’s face, and he leans unconsciously in Martin’s direction. Martin’s arm instantly goes around him, offering comfort without thought. It’s clear that these two love each other deeply, unquestioningly—and that’s also part of the problem. When someone you love thinks that you’re wrong about something that’s important to you, it can feel like a rejection of your entire self.

“I’d like to pause this discussion for now, and try a little exercise,” she says. Jon nods, sitting back up and disengaging from Martin’s embrace; Martin looks attentively at her, though his expression is unsure.

“One of the biggest challenges we face with people we love is recognizing that they are separate from us. I know—” she says, raising her hands to stop the objections she can already see forming on their lips. “Of course you know that you’re separate people. We all know that, rationally. But emotionally, it’s natural to see the people you’re close to as extensions of yourself—it’s an evolutionary impulse to aid group bonding. It happens with friends and family, and it’s an even stronger impulse between partners.

“We have to do a lot of work to truly internalize the idea that the people we love have their own inner emotional lives that drive their opinions and decisions. But once you are able to fully grasp that truth, it makes disagreeing with the person you love feel less emotionally fraught; it’s a powerful tool for navigating conflict constructively.”

Jon is frowning, but it’s in consideration rather than disapproval. Martin still looks skeptical, his body language defensive, though he doesn’t say anything. That’s probably the best she’s going to get for now, Judith thinks.

“So,” she says. “The exercise is this: I’d like each of you to take a few moments to think, and then tell the other person something about yourself. Not a fact, but something that you feel. And I would like you to listen without interrupting when your partner tells you their feeling. Can you each do that?”

“I, ah—” Jon’s frown deepens. “That’s...rather difficult to do on demand.”

“I know,” says Judith with sympathy. “That’s why I’m here, to support you both in doing the difficult things. If it was easy, you wouldn’t need a therapist to facilitate.”

“Right,” says Jon. “Okay.”

“Martin?”

“Fine,” he says, but his tone is reluctant. Judith gets it; vulnerability is hard enough in front of someone you love, never mind with a stranger in the room. It’s easier to pretend that it’s pointless, that you’re not really putting yourself out there to be hurt. She has the feeling that Martin is someone who would rather avoid being hurt, even if it means closing himself off.

“All right,” she says. “When you’re ready, Jon, would you mind going first? No rush, take all the time you need.” Hopefully, seeing Jon take the first step might help Martin get over some of his defensiveness.

“Oh,” he says, and for a few moments his expression devolves into one of intense concentration. Then he nods, turning towards Martin.

“Start with “I feel”,” Judith suggests.

“All right,” he says, breathless with nerves. “I, uh, I feel...responsible. For—well, for everything, basically. And for everyone. Bad things have happened to people, and it’s my fault, because I should have done something. Everything that happened, back there, it was all because of me.”

“It wasn’t you, Jon!” Martin protests. “Annabelle told us—”

Judith is about to remind him that he’s supposed to just be listening, but he cuts himself off first. Jon laughs, an ugly sound that’s more like a sob.

“And how is that supposed to help? Knowing that the—that they were using me my whole life, how does that absolve me of any responsibility for what I did? For the fact that I failed to do anything to stop them? I couldn’t even go through with the one thing that could have actually meant something, because—”

He clamps his mouth shut, his jaw locked tight; Martin looks down at his hands, his expression distraught.

“Because of me.”

“Martin—” Jon’s tone is wounded, and he reaches for Martin’s hand. Judith sees reflections of a shared pain in both their faces, though she doesn’t understand why; this would be a lot easier if they’d just tell her the truth.

But you didn’t get into this profession because it was easy, did you?

“Thank you for sharing that, Jon. I think there’s a lot more for us to explore there, but let’s give you a break and give Martin a chance to share, okay?”

Jon nods, clutching Martin’s hand in his. Martin gives a long, slow exhale.

“Righto,” he says with false, brittle cheer. “”I feel,” wasn’t it? Right. Jon, when you do something stupidly self-sacrificing for other people, I feel like everyone else is more important than me.”

Jon flinches.

“Martin,” Judith says, keeping her tone level. “Let’s keep the focus on what you feel, not on what causes you to feel that way, okay?”

“Right,” Martin mutters, and glances at Jon. “Okay. In that case, I feel...like I’m not important. Like the only thing I can really do is—is take care of you. And if I can’t even do that, then what bloody use am I? That’s it, I suppose.”

“Martin…” Jon says again, softly. His eyes are wet, and he’s clinging to Martin’s hand like a drowning man to a plank. Martin swallows hard and shakes his head, but he makes no move to extract his hand from Jon’s grip.

“Thank you, Martin,” Judith tells him. “I know that wasn’t easy to share, for either of you. But this is the kind of honesty that we need, in order to build strong communication. Let’s all take five minutes—if either of you want to take a bathroom break, or get some water—and then we can talk about where to go from here. All right?”

Martin disappears to the loo, while Jon wanders around the office, looking with polite interest at the shelves of books and ornaments. Judith writes a few notes for herself, to follow up in future sessions. She hopes there’ll be future sessions. Both of these men seem deeply hurt, traumatized by events that they’re just barely alluding to, and have clearly been struggling through as best they can with less than ideal coping mechanisms, trying—and likely failing—not to hurt each other in the process. They both need individual counselling as much as couples’ therapy—maybe more. She’s certainly going to recommend it..

They clearly love each other, though. And they want to make it work. If they’re willing to put the effort in, they have better than even odds in their favor.

Martin’s eyes are red-rimmed when he returns; he sits on the sofa as near as he can to Jon, who presses their shoulders together. Judith can’t help smiling at the sight.

“How long have the two of you been together?” she asks. She always asks new clients at the end of the first session, rather than at the beginning; that way she can get a feel for the relationship without preconceptions based on longevity. The two of them look at each other properly, for the first time since Martin came back in, and matching, sheepish smiles break out on both their faces after a moment.

“So it was three weeks in Scotland,” Martin begins, ticking it off on his fingers. “And then—how long?”

“Uhh, it’s...let’s say half a year, give or take?” Jon makes a face that says he’s really not all that sure.

“Right, and then we’ve been here nearly six months. So...about a year, all in all?”

“But we knew each other for over three years before that,” Jon insists earnestly.

“It sounds as if the two of you have been through a lot,” says Judith. “And not all of it gardening related?”

“No,” Jon says with a self-deprecating chuckle. “Mostly not.”

“We barely scratched the surface today—and that’s normal. Relationships are complicated, and it takes a lot of time and hard work to build understanding and communication. But I promise you, it is worth all the effort. You both made a really strong start today—it takes courage to be that honest, even with your partner.”

The two of them give each other a long look, and the smile they trade is tentative, but genuine. They haven’t solved anything today, have only just begun to reveal their hurt and their insecurities; they have a long journey ahead to get to a truly honest, healthy place both for themselves and their relationship. Judith has a feeling they’ll persevere, though—that losing each other simply isn’t an option.

“So,” she says, “Should we make this a recurring appointment?”

Jon glances questioningly at Martin, who bites his lip and then nods firmly, taking Jon’s hand in his.

“Yeah,” Martin says. “We’ve done much harder things. We can do this.”

“Together?” says Jon, and Martin smiles.

“No matter what.”

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek2021 #my fic #jonmartin

[radiosandrecordings]

Okay, at risk of sounding like I’ve emerged from Sherlock forums like a caveman thawed from ice (Look I was 8 in 2010 I didn’t know!) I wanna talk about how in TMA tea legitimately is a stand-in for love/comfort. Specifically by looking at it in episodes 45, 81, 122, the season 5 trailer, and 186.

So 45 is the first time we hear about Martin’s whole tea thing. He comes into Jon’s office to ask if he wants tea, and this is quickly dismissed by the Oh God Jon Are You Stalking Tim? Thing but I think it needs to be mentioned because that’s the start of it all. And it recurs through S2, Martin’s constant worry and doting, both in recording and presumably off recording too, enough that it’s remarked on by other characters. He’s derided for it, Tim in 65 saying “Martin just wants a tea party” when expressing how he feels no one in the Institute cares about him, and in 110 Basira says “Look, Martin. I know you care. I know you do. But caring isn’t enough. You can’t just stand next to someone with a cup of tea and hope everything’s gonna be all right.” It seems to be something he himself is embarrassed about as well, “What, sat around drinking tea until the world ends?! Or, you know, it doesn’t. We hope.” in 116 and then again in 117 with “Anyway, I guess I’m just sick of sitting on my hands drinking tea and hoping everyone’s okay.”

So cut to season 3, 81, when Georgie comes home and Jon immediately offers to make her tea. This is something, to the listener’s knowldge, he has never done before. He feels guilty for taking up her time and home (see: cleaning the kitchen) and wants to do something that he’s picked up, consciously or unconsciously, that means ‘Here is something to show I care about you, an act of service and a gift in one. I do this for you because I cannot speak the words I wish to convey myself, so I give you this, which gives the reassurance and comfort that you need’

And she just dismisses him out of hand! Because at one stage (S4 Q&A I believe?) Jonny talks about how he is trying to explore a certain specific dynamic between each set of characters when it comes to their relationships to each other, and I at least like to think of Jon’s relationship with Georgie as being about a lack of information and context, and that’s what created the rift between them, imperfect information being used as a basis for judgement. So here she displays this by just not having the context for what tea means to Jon. She hasn’t seen him in years, hasn’t met Martin yet, has no idea that the reason Jon extends her that offer is as an olive branch, an ‘I care about you’, because that’s what Martin has taught Jon it means. I think that one little line in that first interaction between them we hear is a beautiful little microcosm for how their relationship continues. Jon reaches out to Georgie for connection, but she just doesn’t understand his world. She loves Melanie because Melanie is different to Jon, not as deeply embroiled, she can get out, she can be ‘saved’. Wheras she does not have the knowledge we have, about how the last two years for Jon have been hell, so she just sees someone trying to drag her down and, wisely with the information she has but horrifyingly with the information we have, says ‘No, for my own health I am staying away from this’. 

And then we have 122, in which Jon wakes up from being literally dead, and Basira offers him water. Cold, clinical, impersonal water from the hallway of a hospital. It's practical, clears his throat, and it’s exactly like how Basira treats him. Nothing special, no thought gone into it beyond ‘What is the tactically right thing to do here?’ because the whole of S4 is about Basira showing a startling lack of empathy for Jon, her former frien- Well. Person she is friendly towards. She has branded him as a monster, and thus he gets treated as such. No compassion for those we’ve slapped the label of ‘Evil’ on. And of course, she doesn’t get the subtext, because her whole thing is despite being incredibly intelligent, she has a habit of taking things at face value because she trusted Daisy’s judgement of people and never looked further into it, lest that make her uncomfortable with her actions, and this is exactly what she proceeds to do with Jon. Keep him at a distance. Don’t look in his eyes, lest you see something you recognise in there. And he calls after her, asking that, actually, would she be able to get tea? And she doesn't hear him. She puts a lot of effort into never hearing him. 

But what else had he done after waking up? Oh yeah. He asks “Where’s Martin?”, with such confusion because he cannot imagine a world where someone he took for granted previously isn’t there to offer him reassurance. He says it himself, “Honestly, I’m surprised Martin isn’t –” He’s surprised! And he wants him there. He wants him to be there so badly, just like he isn’t for the entire rest of the season. So he asks for the thing that has meant comfort and kindness to him in his place. And, because Martin is no longer there, he doesn’t get it.

And in the S5 trailer we have this whole thing spelt out for us! Martin brings Jon tea in the safehouse and well, it ain't fuckin tea! And so Jon says 'You can't trust comfort' because that's what tea has always been for him, that steady thing throughout, comfort that he can no longer have. The world is ruined and now tea isn’t even safe from corruption, twisted into something meant to inspire fear in them, a symbol turned on it’s head. And then, 162 Martin finds some left over, under the sink, and that's what they take to the apocalypse. That one last piece of comfort that Jon finds in Martin, in his intelligence and his perseverance and kindness and hope. In his unwavering ability to care, if not for, then about Jon.

... But if we’re tackling ‘Tea’ as a whole we have to divert from the beautiful love story a little and talk about 186, and tea, and trauma. Tea has always been Martin’s thing, so it makes sense it would slip neatly into his backstory. His mother, cold and dismissive and uncaring, requested tea whenever she didn’t want to have to deal with him. It was a way to give him a task, make him feel useful, and a way to get him to leave the room. This is why he began to bring Jon tea. Jon was, unfortunately, a bit like his mother. Someone whom he wanted to please, but didn’t seem to have the time of day for him. So he makes them both tea, because Martin’s mother used it to dismiss him, and then when he tries to apply the same tactic he’s had drilled into him to Jon, Jon originally dismisses him because of the tea. It’s a bother to him, before he realises how necessary that connection is. So now I’m just thinking about this thing that became a source of anguish for Martin, so much so that even as an adult, even after his mother is dead, he still can’t taste oolong without being hit with the memory of that pain and belittlement. And how Jon, with some time and character development, took that thing he did out of desperation for approval and turned it into something Jon made a pillar of his life, the symbol of Martin in goodness and his love and Jon sought it out every chance he got, and passed it onto others as an act of kindness as well. Martin’s mother meant the tea as a veiled hate, but it got passed down and distilled through enough love that when Jon offers tea to Georgie, what he is saying is “I care about you”. 

#My Post #Me: idk if there's ENOUGH to write about on tea maybe I should wait and see if we get any other tea refs in before the end #Also me: 1379 words on the subject #The Magnus Archives #Martin Blackwood #Jonathan Sims #Jonmartin #Basira Hussain #Georgie Barker #Jongeorgie

[voiceless-terror]

#21 and #46 for kiss prompts, maybe? I can't get enough your writing tbf

kiss on a dare- a little jonmartin season one fluff <3 All in all, this is one of Tim’s better Friday nights.

It’s been ages since Jon’s hung out with them, and never with Martin along for the ride. The Archives had been off to a messy start after the Dog Incident and Jon’s subsequent panic over the state of the place. What used to be an ‘every couple of weeks’ tradition turned into an almost-never one as the newly-assembled team got buried under more and more boxes of dusty statements. He’s pretty astounded that Jon agreed to dinner and drinks- although it’s a Friday night, Jon’s been apt to stay weekends more often than not. He figured if he arranged for it at one of theirs instead of a pub, Jon would be more likely to come. He always preferred less crowded settings.

No, the real feat was getting him to come knowing Martin was invited.

Jon’s been getting...better around him, that’s true. He was perfectly fine at his birthday party, going off about emulsifiers for a solid fifteen minutes. Tim’s always been rather fond of Jon’s infodumping, and if he’s comfortable enough to do it around Martin that must be a good sign. Despite an initial freeze-out, he now thanks Martin for his tea and saves his most pointed comments for Martin’s more egregious screw-ups (and even those have less bite than usual). Still, a colleague does not a friend make, and Jon’s never been good at opening up to people he doesn’t know all that well. However, Jon just nodded at the Martin caveat, seemingly not giving it a second thought. And Martin didn’t seem all that worried either.

Whatever, Tim’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He’s just happy they’re all here, having a good time. It’s late and Jon’s had enough wine to keep a smile on his face. He missed that. It’s nice how easily they slot together, even with all of the upheaval and a new addition. Martin himself isn’t so shy after a drink or two, more willing to engage in banter and keep the conversation going. This is what it should be like all the time, Tim thinks. Shitty archive job or not. 

It’s when they retire to the living room, drinks in hand, that he finally notices the little grin on Sasha’s face. And Tim, knowing exactly what that means, is both a little afraid and excited. Four-drink-Sasha has always been a host unto herself.

“Why don’t,” she begins, a hiccup interrupting her as she slumps into an armchair. Tim snickers and ignores the glare this earns him. “Why don’t we play one of our old games-”

Tim raises a glass in agreement as Jon, predictably, groans. Martin looks quizzically between them. Ah yes, time for your initiation, Marto! Not that they’ve played this in about a year or so, of course, but it's always fun to revisit the good old days.

“Seriously? We’re not children-”

Tim gives Jon a playful slap on the back that sends him flying forward on the couch, spilling a bit of wine on Sasha’s rug. He hopes she doesn’t notice. “C’mon, it’ll be fun, boss! Nothing like it to break the ice, and there’s definitely some ice that needs breaking.”

Martin blinks, hand tightening on his glass. He looks nervous, like he always does when he doesn’t know exactly what’s going on. Which is a shame, because he’s been so nice and open all night. Even chatting with Jon. “Sorry, what are you talking about?”

Jon rolls his eyes, giving Martin a commiserating look. “Truth or dare.”

Martin lets out a disbelieving laugh, relaxing minutely. “Wait, really?”

“Yes, really.” Jon’s foot reaches out to shove at Tim’s leg. “Tim loves pulling ridiculous stunts-”

“-Hey, you loved the karaoke idea-”

“You sing?”

“No.” Tim would dispute that, but the look on Jon’s face declares it a bad idea. “And Sasha likes to ask probing questions.”

Sasha preens, though the remark was certainly not meant as a compliment. “What can I say, I’m the Queen of Truth-”

Tim snorts. “Hacking and blackmail more like-”

“Anyway-” Sasha sings out as Tim dodges a pillow to the face. “Tim….truth or-”

“Dare, always dare.”

“You’re absolutely no fun,” Sasha pouts, though it doesn’t take long for her eyes to narrow in thought. There’s very little Tim won’t do, but that’s a dangerous look. “I dare you...to text…”

“Text? You can do better than that, Sash.”

“Text...Elias.” That’s more like it. 

Jon immediately scowls. “Tim, no-”

“I don’t have his number-”

“I do-”

“Sasha!”

“Jon, it’ll be fine! He’ll just say ‘oops, wrong number’ afterwards, no harm, no foul-”

Tim takes this time to snatch at Sasha’s phone, sitting precariously on the arm of her chair. She doesn’t notice, too busy gesturing at Jon empathically. He scrolls through her contact list.

“And then it’ll come down on me-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “How is he going to connect it to you? It’s not like he knows we’re all together-”

“Done!” Tim tosses the phone back onto the couch with a little grin. Sasha blinks, looking down in confusion.

“Wait, that’s mine-”

The screech and smack on the arm at Tim’s hastily fired off ‘u up? ;)’ to Elias Bouchard were definitely deserved. He’s sure he’ll face consequences for that in the near future, but Jon and Martin’s immediate laughter had been well worth it. Shouldn’t dish it if you can’t take it, that’s Tim’s motto.

In the next round, Tim manages to get Martin to confess to his poetry-writing habit, an admission that has him turning an attractive shade of red. Jon just giggles quietly to himself as Martin reads through one of his poorer attempts at rhyme saved to the notes of his mobile. Tim watches the two of them; Martin keeps looking up at Jon throughout it all like he’s the only one in the room and god, his crush is so evident and yet Jon is oblivious, smiling at him like he’s not on the receiving end of some of the most loaded glances of all time. 

Martin gets Sasha to admit to her most recent perusal through confidential institute records, which turned out to be previous archival expenses (solely to find out what Elias would cover with their new jobs, of course). At first glance, there wasn’t much in the way of extravagant meals or supplies, but a bit more digging had her finding Gertrude’s extensive travel budget. For an old woman, she certainly was a globe-trotter.

“All I’m saying, Jon, is that we could definitely do with a trip to China-”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to ask Elias about Gertrude’s trip to China, something I certainly shouldn’t know about, and he’ll have to let us go.”

“Refill?” Martin’s on his feet, taking Jon’s wine glass in his hand and Tim watches as their fingers brush- go Martin!- and yet Jon just nods his thanks, completely oblivious to the seduction taking place before him. Tim’s given it some thought and honestly, he thinks they’d make a cute couple. An odd pair, for sure, but Jon’s so soft once you get to know him, and Martin’s one of the funniest, sweetest guys he knows. They could be good for each other.

“Well, I still think it’s worth a try.” Sasha’s eyes are starting to blink heavily - she’ll be out for the count tonight, for sure. “Anyway, it’s your turn. I dare you-”

“I didn’t even pick!” Jon says, though he doesn’t seem too put out by it. This is the Jon Martin should know, the easy-humored, smiling man sprawled out before him. He’s even taken his little sweater vest and tie off, looking more like the familiar friend from research Tim knows so well. It warms his heart.

“Fine. Truth or dare?”

“Dare, I suppose. Seeing as how you already have one queued up.”

“I dare you to...to...to give a little kiss to someone in this room.” She waves her glass around imperiously. “Anyone you like.”

Silence. Tim gives Sasha a warning look that she ignores. She’s well in her cups, and he supposes any sense of propriety has gone out the window along with her sobriety. He’s actually seen Jon give quite a few kisses on a particularly memorable New Years Eve, but that was a different time. He doesn’t want him to feel pressured, not when he’s just starting to open back up.

 “Jon doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to-”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, you remember-”

“It doesn’t matter- Jon, you can skip this one if you like, we can think of something else-”

“Tim, it’s alright.” Jon puts a hand on his arm to stop the argument, and there’s a strange look in his eyes that can’t be attributed to liquor. It’s mock-serious, almost playful paired with his little sly smile. He thinks for a moment that Jon’s going to lean in and kiss him but instead he gets up from the sofa in a smooth motion and walks across the room to Martin, who’s just turned around with two glasses in hand. He freezes in place as Jon gets on his very tippy toes, takes his face in both hands, and kisses him. 

Jonathan Sims. Kissing Martin Blackwood. Against a kitchen counter. Martin Blackwood, who, once he’s over his surprise, puts the drinks down behind him and kisses right the hell back, arms winding around Jon’s waist like they belong there.

What. The. Fuck.

_____

“The leg bit was a nice touch.”

“Hmm?” Jon’s in Martin’s lap, sprawled out on his couch back at his own flat, eyes closed in contentment as he leans back against the other man’s chest. Martin’s got one hand in his hair, and the other entwined with Jon’s, twirling the black ring on his finger. It’s heavenly.

“Thought you were trying to climb me.”

“Well, you usually pick me up at that point, make it easier.”

“Sorry, next time.” Kissing Jon’s always fun but kissing him out in the open, in front of their friends? Was that something they could do now? “Should we tell them we’ve been dating for two months?” 

Two whole months since that night in Document Storage when Jon had finally let his guard down. When Martin had held him in his arms. Jon was very particular about keeping up appearances, though that all seemed to have crumbled tonight. Sasha rather fashioned herself a matchmaker, and Jon didn’t do anything to dissuade the fact. It’d been nice, having their relationship to themselves, the secret of it, the obliviousness of their friends who still thought Jon only tolerated him. It’s not that he wanted to keep it that way, of course, but it was nice while they were still figuring it out. 

“If you’d like. Maybe it’s time.” Jon tilts his head back, giving Martin a fond look. “Though I know how much you enjoy playing the lovesick fool-”

“There’s something so poetic about unrequited love, yknow?”

“All the more when it’s requited, I’d say.” Martin couldn’t argue with that. He leans down to give Jon’s forehead a peck. 

“Hmm. Give it a few more weeks. Act out the honeymoon phase for a bit, it’ll be fun.”

And when Jon squeezes his hand and smiles back, Martin thinks he won’t need to do much acting at all.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31318724

#tma #the magnus archives #my writing #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #fluff #kiss prompts #i have a little backstory to how they got together in this one that maybe one day i will write #but heres a lil something something #jonmartin secret dating is fun okay #v enjoyable #jaybirdsfall #reblogs appreciated <3

[bluejayblueskies]

How about an AU where Jon and Gerry have been dating since Uni and have managed to keep it secret from everyone (including Elias and Gerttrude) by complete accident?

send me an au and i'll give you 5+ headcanons about it! requests closed!

by accident you say? 👀

1. jon and gerry meet somewhere completely ridiculous (yet also completely mundane) where the chance of them running into one another was like.... one in a million. like, maybe jon's class got out early and so he decided to walk a little further from campus to try a new coffee shop that he's never tried before and never will again because he realizes he really hates the drinks and that it's not worth the walk, and gerry is in the area looking into something leitner-related and he looks down at his phone a bit too long and runs smack into jon when he's walking away from the coffee shop with a lukewarm travel cup of hot chocolate because they were out of tea (what kind of coffee shop is out of tea? jon thinks with a scowl).

the hot chocolate spills all over gerry and jon's like 'oh god sorry, do you- do you want me to do something?' and gerry's about to brush past him when he sees the person he was looking for and shit, they're looking this way so without thinking he just... grabs jon and pulls him into the nearest shop. which happens to be selling something weird, idk, little ceramic figurines. and gerry does Not know what to say because like, he can't tell this stranger that he's hiding from maybe-a-fear-avatar! so he's like 'uh. you can make it up to me by.... helping me pick out a figurine? for, er. my mother. yes.'

so they're just walking through this shop, gerry's shirt still wet with hot chocolate, jon Very confused and also Very late for class but somehow nervous to just leave, so they look at figurines together. gerry keeps looking back out the window and nope, maybe-an-avatar is still there, and now they're sitting on the bench and it doesn't look like they're planning on moving anytime soon and gerry really doesn't want to take the chance and gamble that the maybe-avatar won't recognize him or realize what he's looking for. so gerry keeps shooting down every recommendation jon gives him with some progressively-more bullshit reasons--'oh, my mum already has that one' 'that one's too expensive, i can't afford it' 'that's too small' 'i don't like the way that one's looking at me' 'my mom's allergic to dogs, actually'--until jon's finally like 'okay what is going on and can i leave now?'.

and the maybe-avatar is still out there and gerry's certain now that they're watching him and he's suddenly very aware that he's spent a long period of time with this guy whose name he actually didn't quite catch and that it definitely looks like they're working together and ah, fuck, if i let him leave and he gets targeted because of me i'd feel horrible. so gerry sighs and thinks fuck it and is like 'listen i'm gonna level with you. i'm here looking for a book and there is somebody watching me right now and i know how that sounds but it's really not as shady as you think and also really not my fault but it is my fault that you're here too so. yeah. sorry i don't know if it's safe for you to leave.'

and all jon can think to say is 'a book?'.

and gerry's like 'don't worry about that bit, you really wouldn't understand' and jon gets all bristly and says primly, 'well, i'm a lit major and i work at the university library maybe i could help' and gerry can't help but laugh and say, 'really hope there's not a leitner in your uni library, mate'. and then jon gets this wide-eyed expression on his face like he's just seen a ghost and says 'what did you just say?' and before gerry can deflect again jon says, more intensely, but also hesitantly, 'is... is it called a guest for mr. spider?'.

and gerry's like 'um. no, it's not' and jon deflates a bit but now gerry's curious and he's like 'why?' and jon tries to deflect like 'oh clearly i misunderstood' but gerry's not budging and he's like 'no, no--have you read a leitner? gold bookplate, super fucked-up consequences?' and jon just goes pale which is really all the confirmation gerry needs. gerry feels the need to clarify that he hates them too--that he burns them whenever he gets the chance.

weakly, jon says, 'there... there's more than one?'. and then, a bit stronger: 'you- you're looking for another one? here? and you're going to burn it?'

gerry: yes, that's the plan. why--?

jon, without hesitation: i want to help

and maybe gerry is hesitant at first but, well. it seems like jon is already fully in this, so he reluctantly agrees, and they hunt down the leitner together and gerry lets jon burn it and then they're friends (and it really doesn't take long at all for that to transition into partners).

2. gertrude and elias missing that they're dating is a comedy of errors, including a lot of rather dramatic near misses including, but not limited to:

- jon always leaves a room just before one of them enters

- gerry always talks ambiguously about the person helping him hunt down leitners; elias always assumes he means gertrude, gertrude always assumes he means his mother. this is exploited to a comedic level

- getrude thinks 'going on a date' is code for gerry having a new lead on jurgen leitner and leaving to go chase it down

- when jon joins the institute as a researcher and runs into gerry in the building for the first time, he greets him neutrally in a mutually-agreed display of professionalism while working. gertrude and elias both remark at the fact that 'it's so nice that jon/gerry has a friend'

- gertrude, opening the door to the break room and bustling around inside, looking over at gerry where he's standing in front of the counter, jon sat atop it with his legs bracketing gerry's hips (they have very clearly just been kissing): oh hello gerard. jonathan. talking about leitners again?

jon, a bit embarrassed, slipping into Ultra Professionalism to compensate: i was just discussing with mr. keay the details of case number 0031211 regarding ms. cortena's experience with the talking vase--

gertrude, not at all interested, already knows that it's fake: right, right, carry on then

*after she's gotten her tea and left*

gerry, holding in laughter: 'mr. keay'?

jon, blushing: shut up gerry

3. gerry, casually, not actually aware that getrude doesn't know that he and jon are dating: yeah so then i had to leave my date early to go chase down this leitner and jon was not pleased

gertrude, after a hum of acknowledgement: how unfortunate. i'm not sure how jonathan's opinion on the matter is relevant, however. was he disappointed that you didn't ask him to track down the leitner with you?

gerry, Confused™️: he was.... at the date?

gertrude: at the date? whatever for?

gerry, now staring openly: because i was on a date with him? because we're dating? wait, did you not know that?

gertrude, not willing to admit that she missed that for nearly three years: of course i knew that, gerard. don't be foolish.

gerry, now even more confused: but--

gertrude, without missing a beat: i trust the leitner hunt went well, then?

gerry, after a long pause: um. yes?

gertrude, nodding: good.

4. there's an institute party and everyone's allowed to bring a plus-one

elias, noticing that jon's alone at the party: ah hello, jonathan. no plus one for you today?

jon: no, gerry couldn't make it, unfortunately. family business.

elias, somehow Oblivious, and also very Old Fashioned and way too familiar with his employees: quite. though typically, plus ones are of the romantic capacity. it's nice that you would consider gerard an acceptable substitute though, i suppose

jon, Bi confusion and suddenly unsure if his boss is homophobic: um. it.... it would have been in a romantic capacity?

elias, still Not Getting It: ah, i see. perhaps for the best, then--office parties don't make for pleasant first dates, in my experience

jon, unsure of how much of his personal life he wants to share with elias but not really wanting to pretend like he's not been dating gerry for going on three years now: um. it- it wouldn't be our first date. or- or really a date at all, just an- an event, i really don't think gerry would call this a date

elias, Getting it a little bit: ah. unfortunate, then. congratulations, i suppose, are in order. was it a recent engagement?

jon, ??????, biting the bullet: we've been together for three years, elias

5. jon, handing gerry a wrapped package on their fourth anniversary after they started dating: this is, um. this is for you

gerry, opening it and holding up the little ceramic figure of a dog: jon. is this--?

jon, in a rush: it's from that shop. where we, uh. where we met.

gerry, overcome with such love he really can't stand it, throwing all of his proposal plans out the window and digging the little square velvet box out of his pocket: jon can i ask you a question--

(jon is so surprised he just starts crying. it's only the fifth time gerry's ever seen him cry and he's so worried he said something wrong at first but then jon manages to say yes around his tears and jon wraps his arms around gerry tightly and buries his face in gerry's shoulder and whispers i love you and gerry hugs him tightly in return and says i love you, too, jon. i love you too.)

#the magnus archives #tma #jongerry #gerry keay #jonathan sims #ask #rugletthewren #((i'm still working on all of these just at a slower pace than before)) #also this one came out very long and way more detailed than i planed ahsdglkglsa #'i'll give you 5+ headcanons' more like i'll write an entire fic in bullet form lmao #my fic