#magnus-filing-system

[the-magnus-filing-system]

hi there, you can call me Dean. i am in charge of filing, organizing, all that fun stuff.

the organization system is designed based on the 14, sometimes 15, fears thought up by architect Robert Smirke

if you wish to have something filed, tap the button read “need something filed?” and submit

things that can be filed include:

- characters (from any fandom, magnus archives included)

- shows, movies, books, songs, etc.

- images (appropriate ones. i feel like i shouldnt have to say that but i will anyway.)

- anything else yall can think of…?

i will do a little research on your submission, then post where it has been filed. if ya’ll have any other questions please let me know :)

(every submission should be appropriate, safe, and kind. if i cant find information on your submission then i wont be able to file it.)

[agentlove]

Do you know how it feels? To be – anonymous? And yet known!

she's his wretched thing 👁️ 💚

[pidge0n8]

my headcanon about gerrymichael is that michael was already working for gertrude for a while by the time gerry joined (timeline? what timeline?) and gerry with all his knowledge and experience was like ‘i’m the hot shit here, i don’t need anyone to tell me how shit works’ (not in an unlikable way, just kind of i don’t have time for office training kind of way)

which means that for an abysmally long time he had no idea how gertrude’s filing system works so it would always take him ages to find a correct file and then after he was done with it he would stick it back somewhere random hoping he got it right this time

michael obviously notices this right away because he’s the one that has to put them back to their correct spots, he approaches gerry in his first week and subtly tries to ask if he needs someone to walk him through the system. gerry is like ‘nah thanks mate i got this’ and so continues to struggle because michael refuses to bring it up again and just waits for gerry to come crawling back lol

[malaloba]

The Magnus Protocol brainrot set in and I made a spreadsheet of all the cases for easier reference. Figured I'd share it in case anyone else finds it useful for theorizing. Will take suggestions for data to add/ways to improve it.

[the-magnusinstitute]

Who all is on your archive staff now that they've replaced Gertrude? (Besides Jon of course)

There’s Tim, Sasha, and Martin, the Archival Assistants. They’re all lovely people, and really well suited to work in the archive, I think. They’re getting so much done!

[compasspyxis]

Uniform redesign i was bored after losing motivation on the last drawing.

Also some other hc like the robes are made out of rayon or smth lightweight n cheap idk

[pati-patter]

Yeah watching protocol episode 7 and she defenitely knoows...

[verysaint-tropez]

I really like this interaction between Tim and Jonathan. It gives more insight on Jonathan as person. He comes off as very confident about the statements and the recordings, but the mistakes here and there ... i wonder what the deal is with those ... i love the dismissive responses, those are very him

[origami-trust]

"So “dolls-comma-watching” is… 1157. Then you cross-reference with the table here, that would be a 2-C, and then you type that into the box here, along with date of incident if there is one and today’s date. Which gives us… CAT2RC1157-12052022-09012024."

We've seen, of our beginning handful of filed incidents: CAT1RB, CAT2RB, CAT2C, and CAT3C (and a few others). So it's possible to have just a "2C." Alice reads this case as "2-C" and then files it as "2RC" Did something in the case filing system add the R? Or did she (purposefully?) make a mistake? If it's a mistake, this would cause Sam's first case (because he submitted this one) to be wrong!

[the-magnus-filing-system]

gordon porlock from red valley pod!!

!I HAD TO RESEARCH THIS ONE!

file name: gordon_porlock

filed under:

- Eye

- End

- Lonely

reasons:

he is collecting and seeking out information on the Red Valley Institute, making him a wonderful possible avatar for the Eye, not to mention he’s literally an archivist. in his wiki it is noted that while another character, Warren, is open about himself, Gordon is not. this feeds into the Eye filing more than anything.

the actual subject he seems most interested in (cryonics, freezing a dead body, in hope of reviving it in the future) is connected to the End. this is a clear sign of other peoples fear of death, so Gordon himself isnt a victim of this fear, but in a way he’s an avatar just because of his contribution to the science.

Gordon himself says that he is afraid of people and interacting with them. however he does make the effort to help people, so perhaps he would make a better victim of the Lonely rather than a avatar

i didn’t get the chance to finish the wiki page but i was highly interested in this podcast and this character. i may have to put the Red Valley Podcast on my to-listen list

please feel free to share you thoughts with my filing. do you agree, or not?

[the-magnus-filing-system]

me after a long day of filing

[katakaluptastrophy]

Another detail from the Cohort Intelligence Files that I'd love to know more about: what Judith thinks was going on with the Fifth's marriage:

Marriage with Pent and the subsequent cavaliership seems to be entirely due to Pent’s informal abdication of the future role. Some suggestion she will announce her brother as heir and step down in the mid future.

Now Judith is oddly leery of Abigail and Magnus. Probably quite rightly, given their political reputation. But that's not the only thing she's concerned about. She's evidently upset that Abigail has maintained Fifth interests despite apparently being neither adequately enthusiastic about the Cohort or her leadership role, and that Magnus is "a Fifth House bureaucrat with all that entails" who has no serious cavalier training.

I think there's something that deeply unsettles Judith about the fact that Abigail and Magnus have not done what they're meant to, and yet have gotten away with it.

But quite what have they gotten away with? Because Judith seems to suggest not just that Abigail made Magnus her cavalier because she wasn't planning to stick it out in the role and didn't want to be inconvenienced by having a more formal cavalier, but that they were only allowed to get married in the first place in part because she wasn't planning to stay in the role long term.

Abigail and Magnus were evidently moving in similar social circles as teenagers, to have met and dated, but she's a titled aristocrat, and he is a retainer - presumably, insofar as the House system is equivalent to historical ones, a member of the gentry. To continue in vague comparisons, Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy are perceived to have a social gulf between them, simply by being in different economic spheres of the gentry. No wonder Abigail dumped him at 17, around the age she likely made her social debut: she was heading towards marriageability, and he would not have been a suitable partner.

But 10 years later, Magnus is suddenly promoted to one of the most senior retainer roles in Koniortos Court before becoming engaged to its heir. Did Abigail simply wear her mothers down after all those unmarried years of grad school? Or is Judith implying that the marriage was allowed in part on the understanding that the succession of the Fifth House would ultimately pass to Abigail's (presumably more suitably married) brother? Or is she perhaps hoping there was some 'logic' to excuse their otherwise aberrant behaviour?

[lostwords-found]

OHHH, I just thought of something.

It's been bugging me that Norris, Chester, and Augustus started speaking around a year ago, and I've been wondering about the significance of that timing. At first I thought maybe it was some consequence of whatever RedCanary stumbled into at the Magnus Institute, because that was a bit over a year and a half ago--we know from the case numbering system that the episodes are taking place in the present day (episode 2 was taking place on Jan 18 2024; note for my fellow US folks that the dates are the UK standard with day first, not month). And from the dates on the forum posts, RedCanary's series of unfortunate events was in April 2022.

BUT based on their case numbers, which give the date the case's events happened even if that's not said in the episode, all the incidents Sam has looked at so far were from mid 2022. They're not perfectly grouped together; the dolls and Arthur and RedCanary were all April through May 2022, while Daria's therapy appointment was September--that last one's a bit of a jump, but it could have happened depending on how cases are being allotted among the various workers. But they're all close enough that it's a plausible assumption, I think, that FR3-D1 is generally finding these things roughly as they're posted and then adding them into people's queues for review. This would mean they're at a current backlog of around a year and a half. (Looking at you, Gwen...)

If that's the case, and if the OIAR's workers have been maintaining a roughly constant rate, then around a year ago they would probably have been reviewing a lot of cases that FR3-D1 found in early to mid-2021. Which means they'd have been opening files that have been sitting in their database untouched since that time.

MAG200 aired on March 25, 2021.

Whether Chester and Norris are a Ushanka'd JMart, or something resulting purely from Annabelle Caine's manipulation of their voices, or something else entirely... l don't know. But I am betting that they didn't start as part of the system, like Colin thinks they did. I think there was some direct consequence of MAG200's events which led to them being embedded in a post that FR3-D1 scraped up, and that they simply weren't activated and "let loose" until some unknowing office worker clicked on their file.

[pinkanonwrites]

Handle with Care

Rodimus has finally been allowed to bring you into a meeting to hopefully curb some of his rampant fidgeting problems. It ends up having unforeseen consequences.

First Contact AU! Rodimus/Human Reader

NSFW, DUB-CON, Accidental Stimulation, Rodmius has ADHD and you can pry that fact out of my cold dead hands

(Since this is a First Contact AU Rodimus uses Cybertronian words for body parts instead of human ones for you, but the Reader is a human!)

Rodimus knew he always did his best thinking when he had something to do with his servos. As insistent as Ultra Magnus was that his endless tapping, bouncing, and desk-carving was simply "an untapped well of craving for mayhem", Rodimus knew that having even a little something to fiddle with would make those endless, droning safety meetings into something just barely bordering on tolerable.

And since Ultra Magnus was also sick of his relentless desk vandalism, he finally gave the begrudging all-clear for Rodimus to bring his favorite organic to the meeting room.

"They can remain so long as they are not a distraction." With his soft little buddy cupped carefully in his servos, not even Ultra Magnus's stern words could sway his captain's notable enthusiasm.

"You say that as if they could be any more distracting than the bot carrying them." Megatron added.

"You worry too much! We'll be quieter than moon mice, right bud?" Rodimus ran a thumb over your soft, fuzz-covered helm as he took his seat. You were sitting comfortably in the center of his right palm, legs dangling over the edge between his digits. He kept his middle and ring digits curled up slightly to keep you from toppling forward, and you'd settled yourself in with your arms folded atop them and your chin resting against the tips of his digits. He gave you another soft stroke to the helm and beamed at the content little chirp you let out in response.

Ultra Magnus cleared his vents. "If we may begin, we have a lot of ground to cover. Starting with the grievous filing system Brainstorm has insisted on using for the weapons bay. It flaunts any Cybertronian standard known to bot and presents a massive safety risk when considering…"

Yeah, if Rodimus hadn't brought you along he'd already be itching for a dagger to start carving caricatures with. Instead his left-servo digits wandered lazily over your helm and shoulders, absentmindedly petting as his processor already started phasing out the dialogue of his second-in-command. Primus, organics really were so soft. Even your little coverings were soft, he noted as he ran a digit tip over the fabric covering your torso. You let out another quiet hum, melting ever further into Rodimus's grip as he patted you.

"And if you think your petition to install turbo-thrusters on your private vehicle was approved, Rodimus, I assure you it was not."

"WHA-?! What's wrong with the turbo thrusters? Brainstorm already approved the prototype!" He sat upright and forward in his seat, left servo cupping around your back to make sure you weren't overly jostled. "And they'll look great on the Rod Pod, too. Already painted and everything."

"We can't have one of our captains blowing himself up meteor surfing just because he wanted a thrill. And must I emphasize the use of the word 'prototype'? Meaning 'unfinished and untested'?"

"What better way to test them than on my ship?" 

"Do you want them listed alphabetically, or by order of safety protocol?"

Rodimus grumbled, a buzzing charge of irritation spiking through his frame. He cupped your back tighter with his servo to make sure you were still settled in as he flumped back into his seat with an overly dramatic ex-vent. The motion pushed your entire soft fore up against his wide digits, and he could feel a shiver course through your small frame. 

"You bored yet?" He murmured, knowing you couldn't fully understand him but also knowing his comments would needle at Ultra Magnus. "Or are you cold? You feel pretty warm." A single digit stroked down the length of your spinal strut and Rodimus startled at the sudden, shaky in-vent you'd failed to stifle. "What was…?"

"Affectionate little organic you've found for yourself, Rodimus." Megatron's comment nearly made Rodimus leap out of his own plating. The taller mech gestured to the way you'd wrapped both of your arms around Rodimus's digits, your cheek pressed against the metal tip of one.

"W-Well yeah! I am their favorite, after all." He asserted, though his free digits kept wandering up and down the expanse of your back. The last thing he wanted was for Megatron and Ultra Magnus to think something was wrong with you. That would just give them more reason to not let him bring you to meetings. No, as soon as he could slip out of here he'd take you to Perceptor himself to get you checked out. Hopefully you could wait it out that long.

But as the meeting progressed Rodimus found that everything that was being said to him was going in one audial processor and straight out the other. He was too focused on your movement, each tiny rock and wriggle. He kept the palm of his other servo pressed against your back to keep you snug and warm, though his own sensors didn't indicate anything out of the norm for your current ambient temperature. Maybe you got bored like he did? Absent-mindedly he began bouncing you in his palm, just barely enough movement to jostle your frame. The dull motion would keep you occupied and keep Rodimus from going stir-crazy with nothing to fiddle with. He was killing two birdbots with one stone!

"...And if we're going to allow Swerve to continue his antics, I must insist that he is at least properly licensed and certified." 

"C'mon! It's good for-!" Rodimus had tried to interject, but before he could he was interrupted by a strangled yelp from his palm. All three bots' optics were drawn to your form as you shuddered in Rodimus's servo, arms and legs squeezing around his digits and your helm hanging over the tips of them, hiding your faceplate from view. Your own little servos pushed pathetically at Rodimus's, trying to shove your fore away from his touch as you whimpered.

"You didn't squash them, did you? Rodimus."

"They don't appear to be harmed. Merely… distressed?"

"No worries everything's fine let's pick this up next cycle sounds good okay BYE!" Rodimus spat out a flurry of placations and excuses as he scrambled to leave, cupping you close to his chest the entire sprint back to his own habsuite. Only once he was over his desk, littered with your various human-sized furniture and items, did he carefully uncup his hands and let you sprawl out across a single palm. You remained lying flat on your back, fore heaving as you vented, helm fluff sticky with your organic-made coolant where it clung to your face. As you made optic contact with him you let out the tiniest, most pathetic whine as your servos flew up to cover your face.

"Rodimus…" Though you couldn't fully understand each other, you had settled on a throaty, metered recreation of his name, doing your best to mimic the mechanical warbles he had used to introduce himself to you. He'd heard you use it a handful of times before, mostly to get his attention. But now? Now you seemed absolutely distraught, whining out the word in a high, flustered pitch through your cupped servos.

"What?! What did I do wrong?" He blinked owlishly down at you, poking ever so gently around your form with a free digit. He prodded at your helm, your shoulders, your chassis… But as his digits trailed down your fore you whimpered, hips jerking pathetically up as he neared your pelvis. You let out another embarrassed squeak, one of your pedes kicking frantically against his digit with a metal 'bang!' to shove it away. 

Oh. Oops.

Rodimus wasn't stupid, he knew that humans didn't have armor plating. Instead you delighted in covering yourself with various colorful fabrics for different occasions and times of day, a freedom of self-design that he both greatly admired and slightly envied.

But Rodimus had never actually considered that no armor really meant no armor. Not even a modesty plate. 

"I'm so sorry!" He hissed, heat rushing to his own faceplate as well. Accidentally making you overload in the middle of a meeting wasn't even on the list of possible ways Rodimus thought things could go wrong, but apparently now it needed to be added. He'd used the vibrating buzz if his digits many a time on other mechs and femmes, but he never intended to use it on you. At least not in that way! Letting you slide oh-so-carefully from his palm and onto the surface of the desk, you continued to languish in your humiliation sprawled out on your back. "I really didn't mean to! I know you don't know what I'm saying but I promise it wasn't on purpose!"

You glanced through your fingers at his faceplate and his apologetic frown, letting out another huff. This one sounded less overwhelmed though, more resigned. You gestured for him to bring a servo closer and he did, only for you to duck your helm under one of his digits and let him pet your soft organic head fluff. 

"You forgive me?" You couldn't understand him but gave him a small, reassuring pat on the palm. "Ahh, thank you! If it's any consolation, I don't think either of them noticed."

But as he carefully stroked your helm with two digits, a teeny tiny part of Rodimus's processor was curious. How hard was it for you to keep quiet? Was the wiggling around from you trying to get away from the stimulation, or chase it? Were you scared, overloading in a room full of giant mechs? Or was there a chance that part of you might have… enjoyed it?

Weird. He was weird. And he was going to file those thoughts away behind a door in his processor to only be opened when he needed things to feel self-deprecating about. Rodimus of Nyon, Captain of the Lost Light, secret fantasizer of human overloads… Yeah, that probably wouldn't go over well.

And yet, Rodimus couldn't help how little he actually minded that.

[in1-nutshell]

Hi, can I request young Bot Buddy being Lost Light Ultra Magnus apprentice.

Buddy is a bubbly and friendly bot so after a few month of Buddy joining the Lost Light Ultra Magnus started showing a soft spot (likr accepting a nickname) and favoritism towards Buddy (in a fatherly way) which caused Rodimus to start complaining about it.

Sorry if my request is not that clear, thank you!

Another apprentice I see, lets do this.

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy being Ultra Magnus's apprentice

SFW, Platonic, Slight Familial, Cybertronian reader

MTMTE

Buddy was one of the newest bots to join the crew.

Having been around during the final years of the war, they didn’t see much action and was instead put to organize and file important documents.

Seeing a chance to go off world and explore, they didn’t think twice in turning in the application.

Rodimus, Megatron and Ultra Magnus walking to the room. Rodimus: “It says here they are just to bots you’re looking for organizing your files.” Megatron: “And hopefully read your Primus awful penmanship.” Rodimus: “Hey!” Magnus opens the door letting them in. All three mechs do a double take. A youngling was sitting there swishing their pedes back and forth and happily waved at them. They stand up and shake each of their servos. Buddy: “Hi! I’m Buddy! I’m your newest recruit and will be handling all data organization and lettering!” Magnus: “You’re…” Buddy: “Young? I get that a lot, but I promise sir it will not interfere—” Rodimus: “How did you even get in through the scanner? It would have stopped at your age. You’re practically a sparkling!” Buddy: “Sir, I’m not a sparkling and there is an answer to that.” Megatron: “What is it?” Buddy pulls out a data pad. Buddy: “There was a glitch in the system. When the system put me in, it placed the age of the bot before me.” Buddy turns off the data pad and pulls out a crate. Buddy: “I took the liberty of reorganizing the rest of your applications in alphabetical, numerical, color coded, and least likely to appear as Prowl—” Rodimus: “You’re practically Magnus’s child. Welcome aboard!”

The news of a youngling being on the ship spread around quickly.

Some already meeting the youngling already feeling obligated to keep this little ray of sunshine away from some crewmembers.

Crewmembers who have also tried keeping the little bean from ‘unusual bots’.

Swerve notices Buddy blinking sleepily. Swerve: “Magnus and Meg’s working you up the wall?” Buddy: “Nah, just tired. Might call it a night.” Swerve: “I can get a fellow bot to walk ya back to your habsuite.” Buddy: “Thanks Swerve but I’ll be—EEPP!” Whirl had picked them up from under their arms and put them under his arm like a football. Whirl: “Make way! The sparkling has stayed up past their bedtime!” Buddy: “I’m not a sparkling!” Whirl: “Tell me that when you drink engex and not get Magnus angry kid.”

Speaking of Magnus, the tall mech clearly had a soft spot for them.

And thinks he is concealing well… which is the biggest lie in the ship.

It is as clear as First Aid’s obsession with Wrecker badges.

Here are two prime examples.

Exhibit A.

The nickname.

It was well known that Magnus HATED nicknames.

Even a shorten version of his name was enough to trigger a speech about the importance of using one’s proper name, even in casual conversation.

That was not the case with Buddy.

At Swerve’s… Magnus and Rodimus walk in. Buddy is sitting with Tailgate and Cyclonus. They spot Magnus and walk over to him. Buddy: “I already have your orders ready.” Magnus: “Drinks or the reports?” Buddy: “both.” Magnus gives a small smile. Magnus: “Good work.” Buddy smiles. Buddy: “See you around Mag’s!” Rodimus, Tailgate, Cyclonus and several bots who heard the conversation freeze prepared to see Buddy get a speech. It didn’t happen. Rodimus: “They—what just—Mag’s?” Magnus: “Don’t call me that.” Rodimus: “They just--!”

Many bots brushed it off as Magnus not hearing what Buddy said.

Others were sure their audials malfunctioned because there was no way Buddy said that to his face and did not go unpunished.

Final, Exhibit B.

Ship accidents.

Living on the Lost Light meant living through unpredictable incidents and accidents.

Magnus was especially aware of them when he noticed that he started having a soft spot for the youngling.

He wanted to make sure that Buddy was safe and knew what to do in case they were not near him.

Rodimus: “You know, I never thought you’d have favorites Magnus.” Magnus: “I do not have favorites Rodimus.” Drift: “There was an explosion near the lab.” Magnus: “Is Buddy, okay?” Rodimus and Drift: “…” Magnus now noticed what he just said. Magnus: “I mean… I meant…” Rodimus sighs and pats his shoulder. Drift: “It was a glitter bomb. Any bot near it is going to be shiny for the next couple of days. No one got hurt.” Buddy comes running in looking like a party threw up on them. Buddy: “Who was going to tell me glitter exists!?”

[woradat]

SCENARIO : FINE PRINT

PAIRING - swindle x reader

After the war ended with the Autobots technically “winning” and all – what was left of the economy and legal system resembled a scrapyard fire on a windy day

Enter you: the infamous gray-area legal consultant with a perfect courtroom win streak and a billing rate that makes senators sweat. As long as clients bring enough shanix, you're their savior in a three-piece suit. Which is why you haven't had a single peaceful recharge cycle — former Decepticons are lining up outside your office like it's a Black Friday sale, all begging for: “record wipes / charges dropped / confiscated property restored”

Apparently, galactic war crimes are just.. paperwork now

And one of the most unhinged clients you’ve ever had the misfortune (or financial fortune) to take on?

 Swindle

Arms dealer. Con artist. Entrepreneur. A one-mech Wall Street crash with wheels. He swears up and down he’s done nothing wrong—he just happens to maintain a “business contact list” featuring every name responsible for minor incidents like, oh, intergalactic war. According to him, he's not guilty, he's just networked

—

“I didn’t sell weapons to radical insurgents! I just... opened a pop-up shop next to their hideout. Coincidence!”

“You literally put up a sign that said ‘Half off for certified terrorists"

“That was just marketing!"

·

·

Swindle talks like he’s being paid by the word, lies like it’s a religion, and schemes with the grace of a turbofox in a jewelry store. He’s slippery, shameless, and morally bankrupt—but hey, he pays on time. (In stolen tech, counterfeit credits, or suspiciously ticking crates, sure. But still.)

You? You’re sharp, strategic, and so chronically unimpressed you might be legally classified as allergic to bullshit. You despise his laugh, dread his entrance, and yet… you keep taking his jobs. Because, well. Money smells better than morals.

Every deal starts with ten rounds of shouting, legal threats, and Swindle trying to weasel out of his own paperwork. Every time ends the same

“Swindle” you begin, with the tone of someone who’s about ten seconds from launching themselves into the sun. “You just confessed to registering a business that sells personal nuclear energy... under the names of three dead bots.. that's–”

Swindle beams like a mech who just got away with shoplifting a tank “It’s called creative accounting! And hey, I never used those names to buy bombs. That was, like, a totally different Thursday”

You inhale slowly. Exhale even slower. Somewhere in your frontal processor, a stress circuit quietly fries itself

“Do you want to walk out of this courtroom, or should I go print out the arrest warrant myself in Comic Sans and hand-deliver it to Ultra Magnus with a bow?”

Swindle raises both hands like he’s being held at blasterpoint—optics wide, grin wider “Okay! Okay! I’ll follow your script! Just—please—don’t write ‘intent to defraud’ in the summary. It’s bad for the brand”

You blink “Brand? You’re a glorified black-market vending machine with legs

·

·

Swindle and you? It started as a business arrangement—a painfully loud, legally questionable business arrangement. But somewhere between the bribes, the threats, and the deeply unethical invoices, things got... complicated

You both are survivors. Quick with your words, quicker with your lies. Not evil, just desperately allergic to poverty. And as much as you hate to admit it, Swindle: the galaxy’s most untrustworthy lifeform, might just be the one who gets you the most

He’s a walking lawsuit in a sales pitch, you’re a ticking stress ball in a three-piece suit. He flirts like it’s a side hustle, and every time he drops some smug one-liner your way, there’s this... weird tension. The kind that makes you grip a file folder hard enough to bend steel, just to stop yourself from throwing it at his smirking face

Because sure, he’s slippery, shameless, and full of scrap. But primus help you—he always pays and worse… he always comes back

—

NOTE - I wrote it just in case I ever make a fanfic about him in the future or I'll just leave it to rot. Just thinking about Swindle, he's funny guy. Why not write it down? What my mind was thinking at 2am when I should have been asleep