#jonah magnus decided to fuck around and find out

[alasroundrock]

Okay soooooo

First statement from the 18th century? Oh I wonder who else was born in that century and why it wasn't Chester or Norris reading this

Very Posh Voice (someone who could have believably been an old man from a different century)

'But I was young and frightened, and simply watched in quiet awe.' ?? that's what I thought you'd say you dumb fucking horse

A tale with themes of hubris and a man sacrificing both parts of himself and the lives of others to place himself above his fellow men???

Where else have I seen someone bleeding for their own goals (ehm gouging own eyes out ehm) and feeding their entity via the life and fear of others. I know the second part is a common feature of avatars (assuming they even exist in this universe) but I want to hope it's him ok

With all the deaths and the terror it was all still worth it to the violinist because of the music??? Remembering Simon's talk about how being an avatar is like hearing the most beautiful music in your dreams. Thinking about Elias admitting the exhilaration of knowing you would be willing to sacrifice the entire world in the name of your own freedom. Thinking about 'Nothing's wrong with him. He's the pupil of the Eye. He's won.'

In conclusion: Jimmy Magma enjoy your vacation inside the computer

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Oh noooooo don't tell my employees my big secret I don't want revealed it would be such a shame I love my secrets so much and don't serve a big eyeball of secrets-revealed at all :((

- @elias-magnusnt

There you are! I was wondering when you would show up. that being said:

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING JONAH MAGNUS GOD DAMN FOOL STATEMENT COLLECTING DUST EATING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE BIGGEST CLOWN IN THE CIRCUS LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN COWBOY MOTHERFUCKING JONAH MAGNUS

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT JONAH MAGNUS I HATE HIM SO MUCH WHY DOES HE HAVE SO MUCH FUCKED UP INFORMATION WHY DID HE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT JUST SET HIS ANTICHRISTS LOOSE IS HE DEAD IS HE A BASTARD MAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL AFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER SEEN THIS MANS FACE AND I KNOW HE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST BEARD GET AWAY FROM ME

if i wanted to get into heaven and god said jonah magnus' waiting inside i would piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down

if i have to deal with jonah magnus speaking one word in person on voice in universe not only will I walk away i will tear out my seams out of spite and have to restart my entire life again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when he is mentioned or alive 

i dont even know why i hate him so much. he collects trauma stories but i am just mad because i am angy

he better have some fucked up backstory to explain this if hes just some rich shithead whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version ill go ham

BETTER have had a statement-giver make him kill a man cuz if he didnt Im going to make him

paypal.com/IFuckingHateJonahMagnus

conversation not even about him. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be his institute and I lost it 

where the fuck is jonah magnus if hes still alive im going to so deeply wish he wasnt

crusty old man

ill punch magnus and his sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and he will disintegrate until all thats left is one final tape he kept on him at all times simply marked Now You Fucked Up in ancient yiddish

im not breathing im hyperventilating at this point

i hope theres a date given for when jonah died or will die so i can make it a reminder on my phone 

everyday once a year i will see it and do anything but pay respects to the man who had so many fucked up if true statements

[go-to-the-mirror]

FUCK YEAH PANOPTICON TIME!

Firstly, this is my favourite almost season finale, like, the whole thing has so much going on (good), we get a resolution to Daisy and Basira's stuff, an actual culmination of 3 or 4 seasons of wondering about the circumstances of Gertrude's death (i love the future gertrude stuff, i do, but i'd be fine if she didn't show up in tape again after this episode), the revelation of Elias being Jonah Magnus, Martin's stuff is delt with, that moment when Elias laughs.

It's phenomenal. I just had to get out that it's phenomenal.

Now, @a-mag-a-day, the antepenultimate episode of season 4. Panopticon.

Let's go.

I think you should also know that I have my cat lying next to me :3 He's really cute.

MARTIN That's a Leitner. PETER It is! MARTIN And the, um… the blood on it? PETER (Cheerfully) That's Leitner too!

I love this part, it's very funny. You know, I will never understand those who hate Peter Lukas with the same vitriol as I hate Elias with. Peter's voice is just really nice okay. I sort of find myself... liking him. He's fun, I don't know.

NOT-SASHA So you finally decided to let me out, Jon? (Calling) Jooooon? (Beat) Who's there? (Martin's terrified breathing can be heard) Who let me out? Don't be shy… I just want to say thank you.

Martin's terrified breathing was heard. Good lord, 10/10 great terrified breathing. I'm guessing that Martin and/or Peter used their spooky, lonely powers and hid from her.

PETER Make sure everyone is too busy to follow us. They'll be fine. Probably. You could still go help them. If you insist. (Beat) (Martin lets out a resigned breath) (Satisfied) Very good. Come on.

I mean, he's still a bastard, I just don't hate him.

PETER Why'd you think this was chosen as the Institute's location when the prison closed? It's a significant site of power for the Beholding. From the tower in the centre of this room, you can see everything.

So, quick little... fun facts, I suppose. Milbank Prison was first designed by Jeremy Bentham, and it was meant to be a panopticon prison, guarded by just one person who could see anything - but not everything. None of the inmates would know if they were being watched so, Bentham theorised, the inmates would act as if they were being watched all the time. The prison guard who watched the inmates would in turn not know when they were being watched by the general public and public officials. Bentham intended for this to be used as a solution for the question:"Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?", who guards the guards, who watches the watchers?

There's a whole lot more about the panopticon as a thing, but I'm actually pretty interested in it and I know I'll get dragged into a little research spiral, so instead, more about the prison itself.

The site of Milbank Prison was bought in 1799 by Jeremy Bentham, and the panopticon plan was abandoned in 1812. There was a competition for who's prison design would be built on the site, and William Williams' won, and was adapted by Thomas Hardwick. After 18 months, Hardwick resigned and was replaced with John Harvey. In 1815, Harvey was dismissed and Robert Smirke took his place, completing it in 1821. The prison closed in 1890, and demolished on and off till it was finally gone in 1903.

This all to say, that I think Jonah Magnus attempted The Watcher's Crown around 1890, because he said he moved it to London after it failed.

I convinced Smirke to work on Millbank, leading him to design it as a temple to all the Fears in equilibrium, such that my own modifications to the design of the Panopticon went… unremarked. It. Took. Years, for the dread of the prisoners that passed through to fully suffuse the place, and I was an old man by the time I made my first attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, sat in the centre of that colossal eye, the great ring of cells encircling me like a coronet. It was… flawed, of course, as all Smirke’s rituals were, and none of the inmates survived as the power I attempted to harness shook the building almost to pieces, and the murky swamp upon which the prison was built consumed it. But it left me a gift: For sat in that watchtower, I could see everything I turned my mind to. It was a dizzying power, and one I discovered I maintained even as I found vessels to extend my life. Of course, I had to make sure the location was kept under my control while I worked on revising my plans, and so I moved the organization I had founded to assist in my research down to London, and the Institute as you know it, was born.

(MAG 160)

However, this does say "the dread of the prisoners that passed through" so it could have been in the 1840s and 50s, when Milbank was a holding prison for convicts going to be transported.

I just want a timeframe. But, I mean, if we did get one it would probably be contradicted to hell and back (/lh /nsrs).

PETER I don't mean the cells, Martin! I mean everything. Come on. Mind your step, this comes from an era before safety rails.

I think safety rails were first used in the 1930s, but don't quote me on that. Meaning, yes, this does probably come from an era before safety rails.

PETER Jonah Magnus! His body at least. Sitting here, watching. Binding it all together, growing ever older. If you want to take his place, well… MARTIN I'll need to kill him. PETER Yes. Don't worry, though, I brought a knife.

I feel like you're going to need to start carrying a knife if you work at the Magnus Institute. I mean, it's illegal to carry a knife of certain sizes of varieties (no switchblades!), it's also just illegal to carry any knife without good reason and "I have a high risk of death to supernatural creatures at my archiving job" probably doesn't cut it. Still, Jon bought a knife back in season 2. Jon bought an axe back in season 2, how the hell did he carry it around without raising quite a bit of suspicion?

MARTIN Where are his eyes? [A footstep] ELIAS Exactly where they've always been, Martin. (Martin gasps) Watching over my Institute.

That's such a cool line!! Also, uh:

But he remembers so clearly what he was thinking as he looked at what was left of Allan Schrieber: where are his eyes? What did they do with his eyes?

(MAG 193)

It just immediately got me thinking about that line.

BASIRA And you're sure? ARCHIVIST Yes, I'm sure it wasn't here before! BASIRA It's just that there's a lot of tapes around. ARCHIVIST And I don't keep any of them with the key to the tunnels. It's been left for me. DAISY And it says 'play me'. Kind of suspicious.

IM SORRY, THERE'S JSUT A LITTLE TAPE WITH A STICKY NOTE ON IT SAYING "PLAY ME" AND BASIRA THINKS IT COULD HAVE BEEN THERE BEFORE?? IM SORRY IM JUST DYING OVER HERE

GERTRUDE (Disparagingly) I'm not really in the mood for nostalgia, Elias. You might have noticed I'm rather busy so either shoot me or— [A gunshot rings out; Gertrude gasps and collapses] GERTRUDE Well… (gasp) there it is. (gasp) Thought it would hurt more. (Elias sighs) ELIAS Pity.

I really love that we get to hear what I thought - and to be honest, kind of hoped - was the last Gertrude tape in this context.

Like, everything's coming to a head, here and now in this episode. Peter's plan with The Extinction, whatever Elias' deal was (actually Jonah Magnus), Daisy's whole thing, and finally hearing Gertrude's death here was just amazing! Like, we take all the plot stuff, we throw it in one episode, this is our Unknowings, our Hide and Seek, our Infestation.

Then, there's The Last that's like, ok we get the emotional resolution between Jon and Martin and Martin's whole lonely thing, finally and then we're like yeah, the next one's always a bit more of a resolution, but Jonah Magnus is planning someone, ahaha Peter what did you MEAN "he got you"? WHAT???

But, focusing on Gertrude's death... I... ok, look, I'm going to grab messages I sent to my friends, because I can't explain how much I love Panopticon and Gertrude's death scene here.

Her [Gertrude's] ending in panopticon is PERFECT like, that's the End of gertrude robinson And i liked the bits we got of her in mag 161, 162, and 167 But i REALLY like just like that ending, the whole "who killed Gertrude Robinson", "what was Gertrude Robinson's whole deal", all the mysteries about Gertrude Robinson just wrapped up neatly in a noose around her neck If you're listening to tma for gertrude, PANOPTICON IS LAST Like oohhhh words cannot describe how much I LOVE the placement of the tape with gertrude's murder Panopticon is SUCH a good episode Like, The Last was our emotional resolution, The Eye Opens was our Jonny comes into our houses and fucking MURDERS us episode, but Panopticon was our original recording episode and <33 It's like!!! - Martin MAKING HIS CHOICE - THE GERTRUDE TAPE - Jon FINALLY GETTING TO SAVE MARTIN LOVE THE GAYS - Daisy giving into the hunt - LITERALLY EVERYONE AT ONCE ATTACKING THEM

Do you understand me? I hope you understand me.

ELIAS (Faux-hurt) Peter. PETER (Cold) Elias.

*deadpan* The joys of marriage.

PETER We're the same, you and I. We don't need anyone else. Watching from a distance, that's always who you've been. Haven't you enjoyed it these last few months, drifting through the Archives unseen, unjudged? You'll like it in there. I promise. MARTIN Yeah. Yeah, I think I would.

When you're numb from the cold, it feels better to be in the cold then to be warm and defrost. And if you do get warmed up, but can't stay warm for long enough it does more damage. But you've got to get to the warmth eventually. It's going to kill you out there, in the cold because it's safer than getting hurt.

Would you prefer it there? Maybe. It's numb. It doesn't sting. "But as with all [...] that promises respite, it is a trap."

ARCHIVIST Do ah… do I get a gun? BASIRA You ever fired one? ARCHIVIST (Indignant) You never taught me!

I just like the way Jon says it. Gosh, they're all having the absolute worst days, aren't they.

NOT-SASHA Hello, Jon. DAISY Oh, shit. ARCHIVIST You gotta be fucking kidding—

If there was any place for swearing it is definitely in this situation where everything that (he knows) could have gone wrong HAS gone wrong. Like, just, absolute worst time over here.

I love it when Jon just gets fed up. Like, when in 107 where he was just like "so, kidnapped. again." and the whole "how embarrassing for you". Just like, fuck yea dude, be a bit of a bastard when there are many, many, MANY things trying to kill you.

BASIRA God dammit. Jon, go, we'll keep them busy. ARCHIVIST What? No! I— BASIRA Don't argue. Just go! NOT-SASHA (Distant) Joooon? ARCHIVIST Fine. Just don't die. DAISY Go.

I think it's really nice that... i dunno, they told him to run, they risked their lives for martin, someone who they thought was "working for the enemy" or whatever. especially for basira.

MARTIN It's not him! It's not anybody. It's just me. Always has been. I... When I first came to you, I thought I had lost everything. John was dead, my mother was dead, the job I had put everything into had trapped me into spreading evil and I… I really didn't care what happened to me. I told myself I was trying to protect the others, but honestly we didn't even like each other. Maybe I just thought joining up with you would be a good way to get killed.

I really didn't appreciate Martin enough on my first listen. I was just... so caught up in the whole... Jon thing. He was my favourite since about episode 30. I liked Martin fine, I really liked Helen, but most of the characters I liked was done through the context of... loving Jon. Just really couldn't see past him.

And then... so I was talking to my friend about how Jon has adhd because I'm projecting, and it brought up that Martin's got that social anxiety & depression combo. And as I read those quotes that she collected, I realised he was right, and I realised I knew him. And from that day forth, I began to love Martin K Blackwood.

Then I listened to recollection on the bus and started crying.

So, this is my first listen where I know Martin. I'm not entirely sure what to say about this, I just... poor guy. I get him :(

And then… Jon came back, and… and suddenly I had a reason.

A WHAT?

Funny. Looks like I was right the first time. It's probably still a good way to get killed.

I'm sad. I'm sad about him. God, I just wanna give him a hug or something

ELIAS Your choice. Just make sure to leave the door open.

the fucking. the fucking. door.

(Elias lets out a long, triumphant laugh, then sighs, contented)

I want to murder him with my bare hands. He's won. He's fucking won. I am SO glad he was stabbed. HHHHhhh murder.

ELIAS (Pleased) …My you have grown. Yes. A masterpiece, isn't it?

I'm gonna kill someone and his name is Jonah Magnus.

ARCHIVIST Yeah. It is. And that's you then? Your… body?

Look, I mean, yeah evil, but also like, kinda cool though-

Also, like, he's also kind of... evil. It's complicated. I mean, he did have the whole "it is the worst place that has ever been beautiful and it should not exist" thing like-

No one is even blaming him for this, it is PURELY the piece of my brain that exists only for playing devil's advocate, which, like, USEFUL, but also, shut up!

ELIAS From out here? Impossible. ARCHIVIST You want me to follow him? ELIAS No, Jon. You want you to follow him.

That's not even bloody subtle. "You want you to follow him" says guy who LITERALLY MANIPULATED THE SITUATION SO THAT HE'D HAVE TO GO INTO THE LONELY, christ i am so FUCKING GLAD HE GOT STABBED

I can't do this, I literally cannot. Considering murder. Ben Meradith does a great job at doing a voice so punchable, and then Jonny does a great job at writing lines so stabbable, and together it's the beginning of MAG 200 :3

ELIAS (CONT’D) Very good. Are you scared, Jon? ARCHIVIST (Quietly) Yes. [The Lonely static crescendos] ELIAS Perfect.

HISS HISS KILLING AND MAIMING, FUCK HE WON

he... won.

i haven't done a relisten to season 4 before, it's just as physically painful as season 1, 2, and 3, good lord.

LIKE, OH MY GODDD AARHRHGHRGHR RIPPING AND TEARING "ARE YOU SCARED, JON" "YES" "PERFECT" FUCK YOU FUCK YOUR RITUAL FUCK THIS IM GOING TO SCREAM

oooohohhhhhh well done, you bastard, all fourteen fucking marks got. you're gonna live forever, or as close to forever as is possible.

i am so glad that in that final moment he was alive, he told jon that he didn't think jon would go through with it and jon fucking stabbed him.

THIS IS MY THING FOR 158!

so, 160 is going to be... it's going to be quite... interesting.

[thatforgottenbasilisk]

Jonathan Sims Is Dead In The End

Chapter 1: Prologue (AO3)

Summary:

Sasha James does not give up. She does not stop. Even when things seem hopeless, even when she is entirely alone in this apocalyptic wasteland of her own making, she does not lie down and take it. So when an opportunity presents itself to fix everything, take her all the way back to when she first got this promotion? She takes it by the throat and fucking throttles it.

Sasha doesn't know how long she's been walking. She's been alone here for as long as this world was reformed in Jonah Magnus' perfect image, all because she decided to read that one Statement-

She can't think about that right now. There's no point to it except to work herself up, and there's no one to calm her down anymore, no one to stand by her side and vent to, at the very least.

God, she misses Tim. She misses Martin. She misses Melanie and Georgie. She even misses Jon, for how little the real him was left by time he'd transferred to the Archives.

How many deaths could she have prevented? If she'd said the right thing here, stopped or even hesitated there, held off on bending to Elias' fucking whining about audio recording for the Archives- how much of this wouldn't have happened?

Sasha is only walking because of a pipe dream. She knows that this world probably can't go back to normal, not when it's been reformed like this, not when the fears have their tetherhooks so deeply inside. It won't let go, not now, not ever. The only hope is to beat it out, sever the connection, but she doesn't know if that could work. An Eye cannot look inside itself, and an Eye cannot See how it will fall.

But still she marches on. Hoping against hope that killing Jonah Magnus could do something to hurt the connection, enough to generate a moment of weakness, a chance to beat it out of her world, beat the fear back to the edges of reality where it belongs.

If there is still even the tiniest spark of hope left in a world like this, she will chase it. That's the way that she is, the way that she always has been, always will be. Sasha James does not give up. Sasha James does not give in. Sometimes she has to repeat this to herself like a mantra, but it holds true. She keeps going.

Through the fog, through the flames, through the rot and disease, through the dolls, through the blood, she keeps going at a steady pace. She walks and talks, making Statements into the ever-present tape recorder because that's the only company that she has anymore, pressing on because if she stops, she doesn't know if she can start again.

She Knows that she can. She Knows that she would, eventually, the only question is if her heart would still be in it, or if her movement would be dictated solely by the Beholding. She doesn't want to find out, so she won't.

She doesn't know how long she's walking when she comes across a familiar door. She kind of wants to open it, see what Helen wants from her. Helen now and Michael before- both of them were always pleasant, even if only to her.

But she doesn't need to touch the handle or even knock for the door to swing open on its own. Has she ever, really, or has it always opened itself to her? Instinctively, she tries to remember, go back over every interaction with a fine-toothed comb, anything to make this train of thought last as long as it can because it doesn't hurt as much as everything else, and anything that doesn't hurt has to be savored for as long as you can taste it- but she can't do that right now. The door is opening. She has to pay attention to what crawls out.

It is Helen, of course. Michael is still dead. The end of the world does not return anyone or anything to the land of the living, no matter what the new definition of "living" is.

"Hello again, Archivist! Isn't it a wonder to catch you here?"

Its grin is widening impossibly across its face, curling up and around its cheeks and very nearly cutting into its ears. Its fingers are still as sharp as shattered glass. It stares at her with impossible eyes, and she does not know where the real question lies in the greeting.

It is a strangely giddy feeling, that of not knowing something. Or Knowing it. Sasha never thought that she could miss it, but here she is.

"Maybe it is, but I think that it's not. What's your game today, Helen?"

She keeps the circular nature of the conversation going, fucking sue her. She hasn't gotten to chat with anyone or anything vaguely coherent in so long, not to mention something that at least pretends to be on friendly terms. Maybe Helen's dangerous, maybe it isn't, but she can't quite bring herself to care right now. She's catching up with an old friend. She's ignoring reality for just a moment, not even a fraction of a second in the grand scheme of things, and she is letting herself entertain and be entertained by one of the only things left that isn't horrifying right on the very surface.

"Wouldn't you like to know? Don't worry your pretty little head about it, you'll find out soon enough. In the meantime, I've got a question for you, Archivist. I know you're not used to being the one interrogated, so I'll try and be painless, alright?"

Sasha nods her consent. She wants to find out where this is going, learn it, not Know it. She has a feeling that it will lead somewhere interesting; the Spiral always ends in the most fascinating of places.

"Just how much of me do you See?"

Sasha opens her mouth to respond, takes a sharp breath, and then realizes that she has to think on the answer. At a glance, not much, Helen is as impervious to her Sight as Michael always was, but as she thinks on it, as she Looks, the pathways become clearer and clearer. Still, she cannot Know everything, and while she suspects that she could come close to that upon entry into Helen's Domain, that would also be... rude. To Know the Unknowable. To distinguish Truth and Lies in the Twisting Deceit.

Vaguely, she notices Helen's face has become twisted in a sort of discomfort, but as she mentally backs away from the hallways, the face morphs into that of contentment. It still looks rather violated, but there's an aura of victory in that expression. Has Helen felt the answer just as Sasha was finding it?

"I understand. I know that you don't like it here alone, Archivist, and quite frankly I feel that the world like this is going to become rather boring rather quickly. So I think that it would be in both of our best interests if you closed your Eyes and trusted me."

Sasha doesn't fucking trust that. She might have been dumb enough to start the apocalypse, but she still has enough self-preservation to keep herself from getting killed, no matter how friendly Helen is. It is still very much the human form of untrustworthiness.

"Oh, don't give me that look, and don't say anything, either. I can read your face plain as day. How about I tell you a little truth, hm? Satisfy your curiosity, just a tad. Time does not move only forwards. With as much power as I have now, I can move you to any time I please."

Sasha can taste the Truth in the air. She can see the pain on Helen's face as it spits the words like poison, and she knows that it is true. She sees the offer as what it is.

Helen has not betrayed her like this before. It has no reason to do so now, not when she could very easily kill it if she finds out about any attempt at deception for malicious ends. The only other option for fixing this mess is going where Beholding wants her to go, and Beholding doesn't want its newfound power to be usurped. A pipe dream or a possible trap, those are her only options. She knows where she is going in a heartbeat. It's not even a real choice.

Sasha closes her eyes, and steps inside the door.

[rowanb3rries]

tmagp episode 4 thoughts. no or not a lot of context but still read at your own peril

index of these posts

3:30 "why would YOU be getting those notifications" yeah, tell us

3:45 "magnus, and protocol?" SAM????????????

4:00 i like how sam is talking completely normally and alice is doing like a theatre whisper

4:20 "high level stuff" sounds like a section 31

4:35 alice is. incredibly cautious with all of this, even though she doesn't initially come off that way

5:00 had to find the transcript to figure out they were saying 'starkwall' but that's my own hearing problems

5:15 gwen that is an insane assumption

5:40 THERE HE IS

6:48 musical instruments are dangerous in this series

7:40 bro i know you did not come into having this thing in a chill way

11:05 ah yes, so you got it from him and decided you'd pass it on? or maybe you had to. we'll find out

12:10 bro i do not think there is anything you could have done

12:45 "the grisly remnants of my tutor's troubled mind" yyyep

14:30 "you have a look that speaks of hunger" inscryption campfire-ass interaction

17:35 a true friend..........

21:50 is this invisible to onlookers. like.

23:40 !!!!!!!!!!!!! DUDE this is sick as hell what a great episode sdljgslg

25:25 holy shit this got metal

26:00 so do you HAVE to pass this thing on. like. you could have been buried with it. but instead you passed it on

26:50 "dear grandpa augustus" lmao

27:15 so like. does gwen legitimately listen to these and stuff. alice has been clear with sam that sitting and paying attention to the statements is like Bad For You.

27:55 i love alice....

28:20 omfg. OMFG?

questions:

why the fuck did alice get sam this job if she's that worried about poking around

is this or is this not the actual jonah magnus because i feel like it must be. who the fuck else. it can't be annabelle like i've seen theorized, chester and norris speak with 'their own' voices

prev | next

[your-mom-friend]

My personal HC is that if Tim hadn’t exploded in the Unknowing he would’ve become the next Head Of The Magnus Institute

this is completely based off of the many headcanons and jokes floating around that everytime Jonah needs a new body he just snatched the eyes of the hottest twink he can find and takes their body and honestly Tim fits it pretty well.

Also can you imagine Tim actually did go after Elias and Elias is like hmm. I think I’m due for a new flesh suit anyway. And just fucking. Takes Tim’s body. Can you imagine how horrifying that would be. Sasha got taken by the Stranger and Tim gets murdered and becomes Jonah’s latest flesh puppet. Like can you imagine Jon returning only to find Elias’s body on the floor with his eyes gouged out and Tim standing there, talking with his own voice but completely different. Jon realising that to get rid of Jonah he’d have to kill one of his best friends. That would be so fucked up I want it.

also in the same line of “HCs formed of popular jokes” I propose that the reason Elias didn’t want Jon looking into the Lukas Family was not because they were donors or whatever but because he was aware of Sasha’s Stalker Prowess and Martin’s Tendency For Breaking and Entering and Tim’s Inclination towards Flirting His Way Into Information and Jon’s Utter Disregard for Law and decided that these four could not under any circumstances be allowed to find out about the long line of marriages and divorces between him and Peter (especially considering that they’re currently married and this will DEFINITELY trigger another one of his moody “I’m going away to sea for 4 years and 3 months” periods)

[ghostbustermelanieking]

7 or 11 jmart for the kiss prompts??

thank you so much for the prompt!! asdfgghjkll i swear i didn't mean to post a post 200 separation fic on the same day as you (i was actually working on this last night).

this is a version of the scenario i wrote in love letters where martin and jon are separated after 200. but there is absolutely no need to read love letters to understand this.

warning for discussion of the panopticon scene in 200, and for a moment of jon wishing for the Eye to return (limited to the first section).

7. “I’ve missed you” kiss & 11. “I almost lost you” kiss

Waking up without Martin almost feels like dying all over again. That horrible moment where Jon opens his eyes in the hospital, on the other side, and doesn't see Martin… he'd take being stabbed a dozen times over this. 

When he wakes up and finds Martin gone, he thinks he's lost him. That Martin's died, that he's trapped on the other side buried in rubble, dead because of Jon, and Jon's survived somehow when he really doesn't deserve to… or that Martin's alive, maybe, just maybe, but he's somewhere else entirely. One of the other worlds Annabelle spoke of, or their original world—which maybe Jon should hope for; Martin would have the others, assuming they survived, and he'd be safe from the fears, safe from whatever horrible things they've unleashed on this world with one quick motion of a knife.

Jon should hope for this, that Martin is safe and that he has the others. But he's selfish, and they promised together, and he misses Martin with everything in him. 

He's at a hospital in London, he figures out eventually. The hospital closest to where the Magnus Institute was, in another world. The nurse reports that they found him on the site where Millbank Prison used to be, and isn't that weird? And that they found him there alone. (Jon's throat closes up at that, his eyes stinging, and he pretends he's tired so the nurse will leave, so he can cry in peace.) Martin wasn't with him. Martin didn't come through.  

But after a few days lying in the hospital with nothing but his thoughts, nothing else to do, Jon starts to question this. They have no idea how this all works, the tapes and the Web and the crack between the worlds… Surely he wasn't the only one to come through. Annabelle Cane thought she'd come through or die, and if Jon came through… and they didn't find her where they found Jon, either. (Of course, maybe Annabelle ran off before Jon was ever found, but somehow Jon suspects she wouldn’t. She strikes him as someone who likes to be at the center of things.) 

If there's a possibility that Annabelle came through, and landed somewhere differently than Jon, then there is a possibility that Martin came through, too. That he is somewhere, here, and maybe he is alive. 

It's a small possibility. But Jon clings to it with everything in him. 

He can't Look for Martin ( or for Annabelle, really). The Eye is gone. If it is here in this world, it has left him. Jon tries to be grateful for this, and a part of him is—he's been reaching for humanity for so long, all while sinking further and further into something he never wanted, he should be beyond grateful that it's gone, that he is alive and can live, without fading, somewhere else. (Although a part of him insists it doesn't matter if Jon hasn't made it.) But after so long with the Eye as a captor, a safety net, a part of him he thought he couldn't cut away… trying to live without it is strange. It hovers like a phantom limb, something severed by the gaping scar in his chest. He keeps reaching for it, for the horrible comfort of Knowing, and he hates it, but he wants it back deeply. Wants it because he knows he could find Martin with it, just maybe. He keeps thinking, Give it back, just for a moment. Thinks, I'll use it to find Martin and then I'll let go, I won't ever again, I hate it but I need it, I NEED to find him…

It doesn't come back. If Jon is ever going to find Martin, he'll need to do it on his own. 

He asks all the nurses and staff, anyone he comes in contact with, if they've ever met a Martin Blackwood. Asks if there's anyone in his files with that name, or a name like it, begs the nurses to please look around for anyone like that. No luck there. Jon asks for a phone book and gets an odd look; he guesses phone books are out of fashion in this 2018, too. He can't do much while he's in the hospital, and he's about to give up hope on making any progress until he's been discharged. 

But then he manages to get a hold of a laptop. After days of asking, a nurse offers to lend him one, if he promises to keep it quiet, and not to exert himself.  

Jon searches the Internet for hours. There are dozens of Martin Blackwoods, actually, more than he ever could've guessed, and none of them seem to be Martin. He has to consider the fact that Martin may not have existed here—just like Jon didn't exist here, or doesn't seem to have, before they woke up. Which will make it nearly impossible to find him using the Internet—using anything, until Martin has been here long enough to establish a paper trail—if Martin was ever even here in the first place… 

Desperation. Panic. Jon's last resort is to write a letter. To write down every single thing he's wanted to say to Martin, the things in his head when he woke up, the things in his head when he realized Martin wasn't here. He writes it all, says the things he knows only Martin would know, so Martin will know it's him if he ever reads it. And then he spreads it across the Internet. Posts it every single place he can think of. Every social media site. A lot of forums that are frequently visited. Comments on blogs he thinks Martin might read. Anywhere he can think of. He even prints off copies and mails them to every address he can think of that Martin might be at: his Prentiss flat, his post-Prentiss flat, his mum's care home, Upton House, the safehouse. He puts his real name on it, at the very top, and Martin's, hoping that if Martin is searching on the Internet, it might come up…

Jon's desperate. He'll try anything,  any desperate, silly scheme like spreading a love note all over the Internet. Anything to get Martin back.

-

By the time Jon leaves the hospital, his letter has gone viral. Plastered all over the place. There's people picking it apart, speculating about whether it's real, calling it an excellent work of fiction, speculating it's all a joke. There's even some commentary from other Jonathan Simses and Martin Blackwoods, swearing it's of no relation to them. 

None of it is what Jon needs. He checks every iteration obsessively: every comment, repost, retweet. None of it is Martin. None of them are Martin. 

He's still looking. Every single day, he looks, in places beside his letter and its hundred iterations. He searches as far as he can, in every record he can think of. He tries to find places in London that he and Martin frequented—the ones he can find. He even goes back to the Institute, or where it should be. It isn't there, of course. Probably never was. Jon can't decide whether to be relieved or disappointed. 

It's all he can do, to look and to keep hoping. It's all he can do. 

It's hard, being alone again, after so long always being at Martin's side… They'd craved space sometimes, and they'd had it, he supposes, but now… Weeks without Martin, one, two, three weeks, and it's excruciating. Jon had said together at the end, he'd promised , and he'd tried so hard to believe it, and now he's here, impossibly, alone. 

He has nightmares almost every night. Nightmares of the Panopticon and the end of the world, the ritual, words forced up through his throat—being at the center of the Eye, at the center of the world with Jonah Magnus at his feet and Martin dying in his arms. Martin forcing the knife into his chest. Jon hasn't dreamed of anything but the statements of others for so long, and he'd thought he missed it, but now… He wakes up almost every night shaking and crying, reaching for Martin. Like clockwork. He thinks he'd do anything for a dream that isn't his, a dream that's not an endless reminder of what he's done. 

He checks the forums. He searches in familiar places. He lies in bed and thinks of Martin, tries to look for Martin, silently begs for help from anyone who might be listening (the Web, the Eye, anyone). Nothing works. Nothing.

The reminders come like clockwork: Jon might be looking for no one, might be shouting out to someone who isn't there. Martin might be dead. It might be too late to get him back. 

-

Three weeks in, Jon finds a comment on the original forum, the original place he posted the letter on that first day. A comment from an m.blackwood . 

Jon reads it with his heart in his throat. Trembling with hope. Unable to hope completely. There's a dozen different things it could be besides him. 

The comment says I thought you were dead. It says, I'm sorry. It says, I love you, says, I'm coming. 

Jon's chin trembles, his eyes stinging. He fumbles at the keyboard with shaking fingers to instant-message m.blackwood, types out his address immediately, without thinking. (He has to type it out three times before he gets it right, his hands are shaking so hard.) And after that, I miss you. Even though he said it in the letter, even though it might not be Martin—it could be someone else fucking with him, a troll or whatever it's called; it could be the Web or the Stranger, luring him into a trap. But Jon doesn't care. He doesn't care. If there's any chance, any chance it's Martin… 

The reply comes a few minutes later: I'm coming. I'm so sorry. I miss you too. I'm coming right now. And Jon wipes his eyes, presses his face into his hands, and allows himself to hope. 

-

An hour and a half later, someone is buzzing for his flat. Jon runs so fast to the door that he almost slips and falls in the hall, hits the button with entirely too much force and breathes, " Martin? " into the intercom. 

Silence for a moment, long enough that Jon starts to wonder if this is just some random person he's practically sobbing down the line at. And then a voice answers, tear-choked: "Jon?" 

Jon nearly collapses with the weight of this voice, Martin's voice. He leans hard against the wall, his eyes burning, and says, "Martin, I-I'm buzzing you in," wiping his eyes frantically. 

He doesn't move from the door, stays leaning against the wall like it is the only thing keeping him up, until he hears a tentative knock on the other end. And then he's yanking it open, as hard as he can, and on the other side is Martin. Not something pretending to be Martin, not another Martin Blackwood, but his Martin. His Martin, standing there with the faded marks of bruising, his left arm in a cast and a new scar across his forehead, tears pooling in his eyes. Martin. Jon can't breathe for a moment, can't move, can't go to Martin because it doesn't feel real, none of it. 

And then Martin's saying, "Jon?" and bursting into harsh, frantic sobs. And Jon's rushing forward. He's rushing forward and letting Martin collapse in his arms, gripping Martin tightly, his fingernails digging into Martin's shoulders, his face pressed into Martin's neck. He's trying to hold on without squeezing or holding too tight, in case Martin's hurt worse than he knows—he's saying Martin's name over and over again, a senseless litany into Martin's skin: Martin, Martin. He's crying, too, hot tears dotting the fabric of Martin's shirt. He's burrowing as close as he can, pulling Martin into him, desperate to feel every part of him—it's him, he's here, it's Martin, they haven't lost each other. 

Martin's holding on just as tightly, trembling in Jon's arms where they've sunk to the ground, right in Jon's doorway. He's crying so hard, it's difficult to understand what he's saying, but eventually Jon begins to make it out. He's saying I'm so sorry. Again and again, muffled into Jon's hair: I'm so sorry.  

"No," Jon says, suddenly desperate. " Martin. No." He pulls back to look Martin in the eye, to try and wipe the tears off of Martin's face (even though he is crying, too). Leans up to press a kiss against Martin's forehead. "Martin, please, please… p-please don't apologize, please…"

"I killed you," Martin chokes out, his eyes shut, his dark lashes wet against his cheeks. "I killed you, Jon, I hurt you, a-and I… I thought you were dead, wh-when I woke up here, w-without you, I thought I'd never see you again, because of me… "

"I thought I'd lost you, " Jon says, quietly, through his own tears. He wipes the tears from Martin's face again and again. "A-and it really would've been my fault, because I lied to you, I-I was the reason you were up there… Martin, please. " 

" Jon. " Martin tugs him a little closer, burrows closer still, his face pressed into the juncture between Jon's shoulder and his neck. 

"It's okay." Jon kisses Martin's forehead again, his temple, his cheek, the top of his head. "Martin. Martin, it's—you're here, it can all be okay now…" 

Martin leans up abruptly to catch Jon's mouth with his. It's salty and lingering and desperate, every single thing Jon has felt in these long horrible days without Martin, every single kiss he wanted to give Martin while he was gone. Jon sinks into it, gripping Martin as tightly as he can, gripping onto his shirt, kissing Martin fiercely, with the panicked relief of being alive, of finding each other again. 

Even when the kiss finishes, they don't let go. They stay there, clinging to each other in the doorway, leaning against Jon's open door. Martin's still crying, still trembling in Jon's arms; he says, I missed you too, I missed you so much; Jon says, Martin, I missed you every single day. Every single moment. 

Martin whispers I love you against Jon's hair. Saying it back is as easy as breathing.

[insomnia-productions]

jonelias fake dating bullet fic

help

So Jon’s about a month into his new position as Head Archivist. it’s… fine. this is fine. gertrude was a mess, clearly, and elias is even more of a mess for allowing things to get this bad, but it’s fine. it’s fine. he’s fine.

yes, really, martin, stop asking,

And he’s - look, he’s always been a diligent person, always very committed to his work, so naturally he would spend every waking minute trying to organize the Archives, and naturally he would forget to sleep once or twice or five times a week, and honestly so what if he hasn’t actually touched his bed in nine days? It’s not like the lack of sleep is impeding his brain function. Much.

So it’s a bright and sunny morning in the Institute, and he’s up in one of the many libraries, looking up something about what may or may not have been a sentient kitchen sponge, and one of the researchers comes up to him looking oddly red and kind of stumbling over her words and oh lord no he’s being asked out

He quickly stutters through a rejection, but instead of just accepting it like a normal person (though, in fairness, what normal person would work at the Magnus Institute?), she asks him why not

like. what the fuck.

And Jon isn’t exactly the nicest or most tactful person, but even he isn’t about to look this woman in the eye and tell her that he just straight up does not like her. he’s not even sure he knows her name. there is a whole realm of possibility as to what reason he could give, like he’s too busy, or he isn’t looking to date anyone right now, but those would sound too much like excuses, wouldn’t they, rather than valid reasons to reject her.

He picks the worst option.

“I’m already seeing someone, actually.”

An eyebrow goes up. She looks him up and down. A second eyebrow goes up.

“Really? Who?”

Fuck. Now he has .2 seconds to make up a love story. He’s too tired for this, and he’s never been one for love stories. What makes for a believable romance? And in that panicked, sleep-deprived instant, his eyes fall on a portrait of Jonah Magnus nestled between two shelves, and somehow that prompts a spectacularly terrible response.

“Uh. Elias.”

Twenty minutes later he’s sitting at his desk in a spiral of anxiety. It’s fine, though, right? That woman will probably keep it to herself, and she’s just some random researcher, there’s no way anyone else will hear about his stupid comment. There’s no way Elias will hear about it - and even if he does, Elias has always been a pretty laid back boss, maybe he’ll even find it funny?

Oh lord he’s going to die  

The next day, everyone has heard about it. Jon can just feel it in the way people’s eyes follow him. Tim and Sasha give him twin funny looks, kind of half-disbelieving, half-amused. Jon slams his office door slightly harder than necessary. He puts it forcefully from his mind, and the day passes without incident. Until.

It’s the end of the day. Jon is walking towards the Institute’s main doors. Half the Institute seems to be there (fair enough, it is closing time), gathered in bunches, talking quietly, eyes flitting to him and away. Tim and Sasha are sitting on their Gossip Couch in the lobby, watching him. Elias is there, and waves him over, holding something that looks like a statement. Of course, today would be the day he decides to get involved in the archives.

Jon begrudgingly walks over. The second he reaches Elias’ side, Tim’s voice rings across the lobby. He’s walking towards them, saying something about hearing the most interesting thing from a woman in research, and how long have they been together?

Elias looks at him. Jon can see the instant when he realizes what’s happened, and, more importantly, he can see the precise moment when Elias decides to make things infinitely worse, because his eyes light up like he’s just been offered a second Christmas.

Elias turns back to Tim and, entirely matter-of-factly, says, “Two weeks.”

Tim, honestly, had not been expecting it to be true.

It’s bad. It’s bad, but… it could be worse. Two weeks isn’t a long time. It’s not like Elias has gone and made up an entire marriage or something. Jon will just put up with his coworker’s teasing for a couple of weeks, and then drop some vague comment about being too busy to date, and an amicable breakup, and that will be the end of the whole ordeal. This is fine.

Jon goes straight to Elias’ office the next morning to tell him just that, ignoring Tim and Sasha’s loud whistles as he reaches that particular set of stairs. He gets through a begrudging thank-you and a short explanation of his game plan, but once he’s done, Elias just folds his hands on his desk and smiles in a perfectly pleasant way that makes Jon feel like a minnow suspended between the open jaws of a shark.

Elias, as it turns out, has a party coming up next month, hosted by the Fairchilds, although Jon doesn’t know that name just yet. It’s an opportunity to garner more funds for the Institute, and he suspects one of the Lukases is going to ask him to it. Elias can’t afford to offend the Lukases, but he would also prefer to avoid getting roped into dating one of them again - (again??) - so why not stretch this fake dating thing out just a little longer.

Well, Jon thinks, there’s no harm in it, really. It’s just a month, just a party. And he does owe Elias for covering for him yesterday. So he agrees.

A week after the party, he’s preparing to drop his breakup comments over tea in the breakroom, when his cousin calls to invite him to her wedding. Bring a plus one! Oh god. He can already hear all the aunties, asking him when he’s going to settle down, why he hasn’t found someone yet. He bites his tongue on the breakup comment, puts his cup down, and walks up to Elias’ office.

It becomes a sort of unspoken agreement. Fake dating isn’t even hard; they’re adults with jobs, after all, not high schoolers spending every waking moment together. It’s an arrangement of convenience, more than anything, and the only thing that changes between them is that Elias visits the Archives more than he used to, and they talk more, and one time at one of Elias’ parties they danced, and it was nice, actually.

Meanwhile, for Jonah’s part, he’s having a baller time. Fake dating is such a small, petty thing, but the scheming that goes into laying out all the right little hints of domesticity, not to mention the fun of walking the line between performing for the others and legitimately flirting with Jon, always just short of anything that couldn’t be explained away - it’s like a fun, relaxing warm-up to his more important schemes.

Plus, he now has an excuse to spend more time with Jon, evaluating and pushing and molding the man who will become his Archive. It isn’t hard - and people like Jane Prentiss and Jurgen Leitner and the not-Them make it all the more easy.

On which note - Jane Prentiss happens. The Archives are in upheaval, someone definitely murdered Gertrude, and Jon is freaking out. Someone - Sasha, this person is Sasha - comes up to him to tell him that he shouldn’t be alone right now. Any good boyfriend would take him home, take care of him after something so traumatic. Elias is sitting next to him, and he gives Sasha a strange, sharp smile, and just as she’d suggested, he takes Jon home. Jon is too caught up in stress and exhaustion and who killed gertrude to remember that Elias is not, in fact, his actual boyfriend.

Maybe some part of him recalls, somewhere between the part where Elias so carefully tends to his wounds and the part where they fall asleep curled around each other, that this is not what fake-dating-at-parties-for-mutual-convenience is supposed to entail, but he’s so tired and there are so many bigger things to worry about than whether or not this is a boundary they shouldn’t cross.

He wakes up with Elias’ arms around him and Elias’ fingers combing gently through hair, and after that the line between fake dating and actually being in a relationship just gets blurrier and blurrier. But nothing really happens, not yet. Jon is in the midst of a murder investigation, after all - one even Elias is still a suspect in, warm mornings together or not. So they remain walking that line for months and months as Jon sinks further into paranoia, isolated from everyone - except Elias, who stays by his side like the supportive boyfriend he isn’t.

And then there’s the table. And the thing that is not Sasha. And Jurgen Leitner. And now he’s the one being suspected of murder. Jon does what has become his habit over the past two years when he is faced with a social situation he feels ill-equipped to deal with on his own. He goes to Elias.

And Jonah starts to rework his plans.

Maybe the fact that they now live together will make getting Jon marked by the fears harder, maybe it will take longer for him to be ready for the Watcher’s Crown. Maybe it will add years to his plans. But what good is a world without someone to rule it with? Maybe even, with time and patience, someone willing? Jonah’s waited 200 years to perform his ritual; for his Archive, he can wait a few more.

[misterghostfrog]

Oh number 3 with jmart pls 👀

So it took me a bit to come up with smtnh for this! but I think it was pretty good. Warning it is. Not edited.

3. A breathy demand: “Kiss me” - and what the other person does to respond. (CW; ALCOHOL USE/MENTION. them bein smashed is the ficlet im sorry)

They’re both drunk, and this is probably all a terrible idea.

It’s not technically either of their faults If you’re arguing semantics, Tim is the one who decided to continue the birthdays-in-the-archives tradition by celebrating ‘Jonny magnet’s’ centennial something. It was more an excuse to bring a bottle of wine into the archives- which didn’t get drunk because Jon had made it clear that while employee birthdays were somewhat acceptable for a small glass. In no way would he condone making up holidays.

It wasn’t actually to celebrate Jonah magnus of course. Things had been so tense with Prentiss looming and Martin living in the archives. Martin thinks he was just trying to lighten the mood.

It did sort-of work though. Mostly because he brought cookies too, and convinced Jon to let them play music over the course of the workday. Which, in comparison to alcohol on the clock was minor enough for Jon to simply ignore. 

Which, now that Martin thinks about it, might have been the point.

But, regardless of the purpose. There was a rather large bottle of wine left in the archives. And Martin didn’t intend to drink it, not in a million years. Tannins and all that. And he certainly never dreamed Jon would touch it. But...

He had a nightmare, the usual fare. And went for a nighttime wander, extinguisher in hand, just- just to be sure. And stumbled on Jon still hard at work at... three o-clock in the morning. A new record for sure.

Jon had been annoyed. And then... sympathetic. A new side to him that still didn’t hesitate to make Martin's incredibly traitorous heart skip in his chest. Jon offered to walk with him, if only for both of their peace of mind.

First they’d stumbled on the bottle, shoved in a cupboard in the breakroom. Then they’d stumbled on the worms. Somewhere on the counter by the fridge. Then the worms were a shriveled pile of filth and foam. And Jon had said the words ‘Fuck it’ out loud, opened the bottle, taken a swig, and offered it to Martin. And Martin, apparently out of his mind. Had taken it.

They’d moved to document storage, away from the worms. Found a good spot on the floor to empty the bottle between the two of them. And they were just... talking. Even getting along quite well, actually.

He’d caught a few glimpses of Jon when he’s not shuffling around as ‘mister-archivist-whos-going-to-staple-these-ancient-documents-no-i-will-not-take-criticism-get-back-to-work’. Particularly after Prentiss. And he’s seen more since, in the little moments after everyone else has gone home. Little jokes, laughter. A wry complaint about the archives themselves. Just... stuff.

But now he’s laughing, loud and openly at something Martin’s said. Martin’s laughing too, and his stomach hurts from it. He can’t even quite tell what they’re laughing about, but he’s leaning into Jon's side and can feel Jon's hand on his bicep as he tries to keep himself upright.

“Good lord Martin,” he says, and Martin can hear the effort to keep his voice steady through the wine “If Elias heard you say that- I think he’d have a heart attack on the spot”

Martin snorts.

“Look, if he wanted to worry less about sources of- of ignition in the archives. He would have- he- he would have put in the bloody CO2 by now” He waves an imaginary lighter in the air “It’s just- it’s um- it’s just motivation. To get us all not killed by a- a bloody worm woman.”

Jon starts laughing again. Loud and raucous. Martin’s not sure he even laughs like that sober. He laughs with him, too. And somehow finds himself pressed even closer into Jon as they both collapse in on their own laughter.

And then the laughter dies down, leaving them both breathless and giggling.

Jon looks up at him, he’s smiling and Martin can feel his own woozy grin prying at his cheeks. He’s almost dizzy from laughing- actually that’s probably the alcohol. He’s never had a good tolerance for it. He’s definitely drunk.

It’s takes him a moment to notice they’re both staring, neither of them have said anything. They’re just looking at each other. It’s quite funny actually, grinning like idiots over absolutely nothing.

Martin giggles. It comes out somewhere between a snort and a hiccup.

Jon's expression changes, he looks almost... perplexed. He tilts his head, ever so slightly.

“Kiss me.” He says, voice hoarse and out of breath from laughter. 

Martin blinks. Not sure if it’s meant as a demand or a request. Not that he actually minds either way. Jon has leaned ever so slightly closer, and he’s looking at Martin with a strange intensity that his hazy mind isn’t sure what to do with.

They’re both drunk, and this is probably a terrible idea. And if Martin were sober he would say as much, probably shuffle Jon off to sleep it off until he’s back in his right mind. 

But he’s not, he’s drunk. And sleep deprived. And a little hopeless.

So he obliges, or tries to.

He misses the mark somewhat, hitting the edge of Jon's lips with his own. Jon snorts, and Martin laughs. And then Jon tilts his head up to Meet Martin's lips properly.

It only lasts a moment. Because Jon's nose bumps into Martins, and Martin starts to giggle again. And then Jon starts to laugh, pulling back and burying his face in Martin's shoulder. Martin wraps an arm around him in turn, only partly because the room begins to spin again and he worries he’ll fall the rest of the way to the floor. And they laugh until they’re breathless again.

Martin leans down and buries his face in Jon's neck. He’s warm, and smells like dust. Which might just be from when he laid down on the floor earlier, who knows how often it gets cleaned.

He feels something move against his shoulder. And then warm lips brush his jaw before Jon's head falls back, nestling once again into his shoulder.

He presses a small absent kiss to Jon's collar in turn. Jon hums.

Tomorrow, he’s probably going to face the consequences of this interaction. And probably need to ask Jon, well. Why, and what the hell just happened actually. But... for the time being it’s just. Nice.

Eventually they end up on the floor, though Martin isn’t sure how. Jon's head still tucked into his shoulder, laying on top of his arm that’s wrapped around bony shoulders.

They fall asleep like that. Tangled up on the floor, an empty wine bottle sitting on the floor nearby. Jon, in his work clothes. Martin in his pajama pants. Both primed and ready for a hangover in the morning. And somehow comfortable all the same.

[kenanda]

It was hard to decide but... 101 for smut prompt please? 👁️ (do I need to write lonelyeyes or is it default?)

Prompt: 101 - “you’re not wearing anything under that, are you?”

Eye, you absolute genius! Thank you for the prompt and for the beta read! I hope this is to your liking; I certainly had a grand old time writing this piece!

Disclaimer: These characters AREN’T mine. They belong to Rusty Quill’s The Magnus Archives. 

Warning: This work ISN’T SUITABLE for minors. It’s a NSFW piece of slash fiction. Therefore, if you’re a minor or in any way squicked by what’s in the tags, DO NOT READ!

WORTH THE WAIT Words: 2,9k Pairing: LonelyEyes; Jonah!Elias / Peter Lukas Rating: EXPLICIT  Tags: established relationship, University!AU, Young!LonelyEyes, unrequited crush, drinking, rimming, handjob, exhibitionism, mild dirty talk, rutting, fingering, touch averse!Peter, Slut-&-Proud! Elias, prompt fill

            FILTHY LONELYEYES BELOW THE CUT, MY BELOVED!!!!!

WORTH THE WAIT

-

There has to be some sort of cosmic joke at play for Elias to develop a crush on someone from his uni class and that said someone happens to be Peter Lukas. 

Because you see, as likeable and polite as Peter is, there’s something about the guy that keeps people at a distance. Try as he might, Elias never seems able to bridge that gap, much less make it understood that he wants Peter as more than a colleague or a friend. 

It has occurred to him that Peter may not be interested in romance or sex at all. The first seems more feasible; the latter, not so much. Elias is always keeping an eye on Peter (perks of living across the hall from one another) and has seen him bring people to his room on more than one occasion. 

Not often, no, but enough to make Elias wonder — about Peter, about those people, and what they could be doing together just across the hall. It takes Elias a while to fall asleep on those nights.

In class, Peter sits next to him and makes light conversation, but it never goes beyond that. Elias is annoyed that Peter doesn't seem to have any interest in him, especially when Elias is handsome, manly, and has an ass that looks great in joggers — which he makes a point to always wear to their study sessions.

If anything, Elias is patient. If he has to keep wearing joggers and asking Peter out with hopes that he will one day finally say yes, then so be it. Though that isn’t to say Elias will breeze through his trials with a smile on his face: by the end of another month of repeatedly getting turned down, Elias is snapping even at his mates.

It's surprising that this mood is what causes Peter to initiate conversation that’s not about class.

"Something bothering you?"

Elias blinks a few times because he isn't sure he heard it right. 

"A few things, yeah."

"I've got something for that in my room. Come by tonight if you want. Will help you relax a bit."

Elias hopes that it isn't too evident that he’s essentially dancing in his seat from then on. Talk about a mood change: one could even call him cheery.

When night comes and the halls are quiet, Elias showers with such intent that his skin becomes red; he scrubs every nook and cranny, but doesn't apply perfume. He knows that Peter doesn't like it. 

Elias puts on something easy to remove: grey joggers, a sweatshirt and nothing else. At least he can pull the sweatshirt down and hide the fact that he's half hard (he’s been on the very edge of horny from the moment Peter asked him out). 

He never considers the possibility that Peter might have meant anything other than sex. When he gets there, Elias is hit in the chest with the sight of a cramped room. Four people are there besides Peter, sharing a now half empty bottle of vodka.

Elias' mood sours.

"There's the man! Mr. Bouchard! Took you long enough mate, thought you weren't coming," chimes Tim, a chipper guy from their class that Elias has no idea why Peter is even friends with.

Elias does his best to smile. "Yeah, I overslept a bit."

They welcome him inside with friendly pats on the back. Peter eyes him curiously, but doesn't say anything.

Elias wants to storm off and find better things to do with his joggers clad ass. But he's here already, isn't he? One doesn’t always get a chance to drink expensive vodka.

It doesn’t take the six of them long to finish the bottle. When midnight rolls around, Elias has had time to allow his alcohol addled thoughts to simmer. He can't believe he had hoped today would finally be it. Look at him now! This is so humiliating that he almost feels exposed, knowing that only a flimsy piece of fabric keeps him from being butt naked among these guys.

"Right," Tim says at some point. "I've got an assignment due tomorrow that I need to finish up."

“You mean due today,” Peter points out, and the others laugh. Elias rolls his eyes.

Tim’s departure is their cue to go as well, but Elias stays behind (perhaps due to some remaining fool’s hope). He knocks back whatever vodka is left in his cup and puts it aside, savoring defeat. He stands up. 

"Well, I don't suppose you have another bottle hiding somewhere, so I guess I'll be going too."

Peter smiles. "I don't, but I don't believe that would help you."

"What do you mean?"

Peter scoots to the edge of the bed. 

"I'm just saying you look as constipated now as when you first came in."

Elias can't help but laugh, and Peter’s grin widens. 

"You have yourself to thank for that."

"Oh? What did I do?"

Should Elias tell him? Should he really dig a deeper hole for himself? Well, fuck it, he’s here already. And to make it worse, he is just on this side of drunk.

"Better yet, what you didn't do. Are you daft or what?! I thought I've been quite clear up until now. 'Something to help you relax'. Bullshit. You're full of bullshit, Lukas."

Peter's frown only lasts a second before realisation hits him, followed by the same old amusement. If Elias didn't spend most of his time wanting to blow the guy, he would've punched Peter in the throat.

"Oh god..." Peter says. 

Elias clenches his jaw and juts out his chin. "Took you long enough," he spits out, but Peter's caught up on something else. 

"You're not- You're not wearing anything under that, are you?"

Elias does his best not to wobble, but the wave of dizziness that hits him is real; his stomach sinks. He had somehow forgotten that fact.

"What if I’m not?!" He growls defensively. Why should he be the one to feel embarrassed when Peter was literally an oaf? "Hell, I'm out of here."

"Hold on," Peter calls, because Elias essentially bolts for the door. Elias pauses with a hand on the handle.

Peter sighs audibly. 

"I figured. I mean, I had a pretty good guess when you kept showing up all commando, but I thought 'hey maybe the guy needs more room down there',” he snickers.

"Fuck you, Lukas."

"Sorry. I know." 

What he says next is something Elias never thought he'd hear. 

"Let me make it up to you."

Elias turns around with both arms crossed. Peter beckons him closer with a no-nonsense look. 

Elias goes. Apparently, he's just that stupid for this man. He doesn't know what it is about this Lukas guy that has him betraying every single one of his self-preservation rules, but he finds himself breaking them more often than not. Maybe it's that gentle voice that Peter never raises, or the sharp wits and strong build. Perhaps it's the fact that even after a year, Elias hasn't managed to learn any more about him than that.

Peter is a mystery, and Elias is nothing if not curious. 

Elias stands in front of Peter, who leans back a little in bed. 

"Hell, you are pretty to look at."

Elias only raises his eyebrows. As if he didn't know. 

"Come on. A man has to play safe."

"Don't bore me with politics, that's your family’s business." 

Though, if he was being honest, the praise did feel good.

Peter smirks. "Take your top off."

"Pardon?"

"You want this, don't you?"

Elias ponders for a moment. Yes, he very much does, even if he's angry. The setting isn't great, so he'll have to work with what he has. He only wishes that Peter weren't so smug about it, because it's making Elias want to make him regret it.

When Elias goes to take it off, Peter tells him that there's no rush. His voice is calm, but the command is clear enough. 

Elias takes a deep breath to ground himself and throws the sweatshirt next to Peter. Elias knows that he paints quite a picture even if he isn't ripped or anything; he still has a bit of a tan from his last vacation, and Peter eats it all up: from the eye tattoo on the centre of his stomach, to the tiny studs piercing both his nipples.

"Nice," Peter says. 

"I know."

Peter smiles at him and Elias takes note. So he enjoys show offs. Well, good for them both, Elias had never been the shy type. 

"Put a hand in your trousers," Peter tells him. 

It's clear that Peter wants a show. Elias can sympathise, for he himself enjoys a bit of watching, too. 

Elias doesn't get to do it much these days, but whenever the bathrooms are empty, he pulls himself off in front of the mirror. He knows exactly what to do to make it good, and the risk of getting caught has him coming harder and faster than usual.

He slides both hands down his chest and abdomen, keeping one at the waistband of his joggers while the other disappears beneath the fabric and takes hold of himself. He's half-hard and every one of his motions is clear, so he takes his time.

It doesn't feel good at first. The build up has been all wrong, and the fact that his hands are cold and dry doesn't help. But then he takes one look at Peter and the thrill of being watched sparks it all to life. 

Peter doesn’t take his eyes off of him; his own hand is working in his trousers. He's big, Elias notes, and the thought has him fully hard in seconds. It doesn’t take long for a wet spot to form on the front of his joggers. 

When Peter tells him to stop, Elias obeys, hoping that this is when Peter also has him kneel and put his mouth to work. Instead, Peter asks him to turn around. 

"Show me," he demands. "You know how."

Elias slides his trousers down with a sigh. He hears Peter shuffle forward behind him. 

Elias would hate it for Peter to miss any details, so he grabs his buttocks and kneads them open, stepping astride to let Peter see it all. Elias a bit damp down there, but he keeps himself shaved as a rule, and that earns him some praise.

"Oh fuck," Peter breathes. "Bend forward a bit."

"Like this?" 

Elias doesn't expect an answer. Peter's hand is working fast and from the sound of it, his cock is very wet. 

"Yeah, just like that. Put a finger in."

Elias teases, but doesn't. "Can't. Too dry."

Peter curses softly. "Get over here."

Elias is almost shaking with anticipation. He hasn't been eaten out in ages, and he's so here for this.

"You O.K. with spit?" Peter asks. 

"Very."

Peter grunts in approval, then spits right onto his hole. Elias lets out a shuddery breath, then slowly works a finger in. It's hard doing it all by himself, and soon his arm gets tired; he flags a bit, lets his head hang. 

"You gotta give me something here," he tells Peter. This isn't begging, he tells himself. This is negotiating. 

"I know. Fuck."

Elias straightens up and gives Peter a side glance. "Problem?"

"See, usually I don't touch them."

Elias frowns. That's news. 

"So you just-"

"I'm not a fan of touching, let's put it that way. And it's enough to just do this. Most of the time, that is."

Elias nods, but there's something to unpack here. "Well, you are turned on. Why isn't it enough?"

Peter's hand, motionless for a while now, withdraws. 

"You, I guess."

Elias scoffs. "I'm sorry my asshole isn't to your tastes."

"I haven't tasted you. That's probably why."

Elias has the decency to blush. His heart has never beat so fast with anyone before, but he tells it to get a grip.

"Well I'm right here, aren't I."

Peter takes a deep breath. Elias can almost see the moment that his resolve locks into place. 

"C'mere."

Peter doesn't go straight for it. He places both hands on Elias' hips and caresses his sides, making Elias aware of him (as if he isn't already). The act makes goosebumps rise on the skin, and Elias’ cock fills out again. 

Peter kisses the low of his back and up his spine, where he can reach from a sitting position; then his cheeks, against which his shallow beard feels rough. Peter sinks his teeth into them, just enough to make it twinge. Just enough to make Elias' cock twitch and invite a hand to wrap around it. 

Peter takes his sweet time biting his ass and pulling him off. Elias is ready to drive nails by the time Peter finally makes him bend forward and starts working on his hole. If Elias moans and pushes against his tongue, well, he's only human.

For someone who doesn't like touching, Peter is surprisingly good at this. Instinct or perhaps patience makes him into quite an attentive partner; he'll stick to any actions that elicit a more intense reaction from Elias; it isn't long before Elias loses it and reaches behind himself. 

"What are you doing?" Peter rasps. 

"I need-" Elias breathes, pushing a finger inside. "Keep going."

Peter does; they work together, establishing a rhythm that feels comfortable for them. 

Elias will come from this, that is for sure, but it will take a while to get there. His arm keeps getting tired, which forces him to slow down. If Peter would just- If he'd just- 

"Come on, come on," Elias whines in frustration. "Fuck me."

Peter grunts, burying his face deeper into his ass. Elias removes his hand and locks it around Peter's nape with a tight fist in his hair. 

That's it, he thinks, and pushes Peter’s hand out of the way to give his cock what it actually needs. 

Peter pulls back and sticks a finger inside. The girth of it is a perfect stretch, it makes Elias let out a broken curse and come a little just then.

"Shit, you're so hungry for it," Peter says. "Bet if I put my cock in you, you'll come right away."

Elias smiles at the idea. "Wanna bet?"

Peter snorts. "Another day, yeah. Wanna take my time with you."

"It's a date then."

Peter works his finger deeper, finding Elias' sweet spot. 

"Here?" he asks, but the soft whimper that Elias lets out leaves no room for doubt. 

Elias bears down on it. "Keep doing that. God, just- oh." 

Maybe he had underestimated how turned on he was. He comes, sudden, dripping all over Peter's floor. It's so thick and heavy that Elias is somewhat embarrassed. 

"Holding back, have we?" Peter observes. 

Elias would kill him if he wasn't thrusting inside him so good. 

"You would too if you had a schedule like mine."

Peter hums. "Drop by when you feel like it. It'll be my pleasure to help."

Peter pulls his finger out and stands up. Gently, he brings Elias to himself by the hips. 

Elias lets him because fuck, Peter is so warm and large...The way he’s kissing Elias’ nape is sending shivers up his spine. Funny though, it’s almost as if Peter is unsure about it. 

"First time doing this?" Elias asks. It couldn't be. 

"No. But it's been a while." 

Elias hums. Peter's cock is pressing against his ass and that’s quite distracting. "Want some help with that?"

Peter groans and rests his forehead on Elias’ shoulder. "Fuck. Can I- can I come on you? I won't put it in, just rub it against you."

Elias would be very much down to taking Peter all the way if he weren’t so spent. He had come here ready for it, anyway. Right now though, he’d have to make do.

"Sure," Elias says. He shuffles onto bed on his knees, spreads his legs and presses his chest to the mattress, to give Peter full view and access.

"Fuck, you don't hold back, do you?"

"Scratch my back and I'll scratch yours, love."

Peter doesn't hesitate, only pulls his trousers down, holds Elias by the waist and starts rutting against him. 

It feels brilliant even after coming. Elias moans into the mattress, getting off on imagining the picture that they must paint. 

Peter taps his hole with the tip of his cock, grazes against it. Elias never would’ve thought that Peter was the cursing type, but tonight is proving otherwise. 

When Peter comes, Elias can feel it dripping down his balls and onto bed. They're both breathing heavily, but once Peter recovers, he pulls up his trousers and grabs some tissue to wipe Elias. 

Elias had half-hoped that Peter would lick him clean, but maybe that was pushing the boundaries a bit too far for a single night.

Elias gets dressed and they face each other. Peter seems awkward — who would've guessed, when he seemed so in charge earlier.

"So," Peter says. "Hope I made it up to you."

"Are you fishing for compliments, Mr. Lukas?"

Peter laughs and scratches the back of his head. 

"If I am, will you tell me?"

Elias considers it. "No. Maybe. Say pretty please."

"Goodbye, Elias." 

Peter shows him to the door. They don't kiss; that would be a level of sentimentalism that might make Elias gag. That is, any other time it would have. Now though, they say goodbye and Elias goes back to his room wishing that they did.

[thebadchoicemachine]

Cryptid Jon (Blind Eye AU)

An AU where Jon prevents himself from finishing the watcher’s crown. He shut the eye but in doing so kind of resets everything and he gets erased from existence somehow.  

If you wanna do something more with this be my guest btw, write, draw, whatever. Don’t even have to credit i'm just throwing stuff out here.

Things get reset back to episode one basically

Although Jon doesn’t and has never existed there’s no real butterfly effect from this, things are the same but he’s absent.

Archivist!Sasha?

None of the Fears nor their avatars are aware of him, not even the web or eye.

In fact he’s a blind spot for the eye, at least to Jonah.

He’s still got those good good Archivist powers and can fight avatars, it just doesn’t feed the eye like it used to. Just him. They’re HIS powers now.

He decides he should keep his distance because w h a t  t h e  h e l l  he is NOT rushing into this one. Keeping his card close as he can.

Basically tries to secretly help out the Archivist Crew with as much self control as he can. (LOTS of angst from the shadows about Tim, Sasha, Martin)

Lives in the tunnels and chats  with Leitner some before he gets piped.

“accidentally” Fails to mention to Leitner that there’s a pipe with his name on it.

Meets Michael and they’re kinda buds now(?)

He kind of reveals himself preventing the Jane Prentiss attack.

Manages to stop the Not!Them from taking anyone.

Everyone’s just worried and confused like “oh no there’s another monster and he knows all about us?”

except Elias who is kind of freaking out because he has no idea who that is and he can’t See it either what the fuuuuuuu but files it in the back of his head as some weird Darkness Avatar and maybe it can mark Sasha.

Elias is trying to build the watchers crown with Sasha now btw because he has no idea of what happened before.

•••

Well shit, Basira is looking into him now because he managed to still be blamed for Leitner’s murder.

This wouldn’t be a problem if Daisy (currently unchecked avatar of the Hunt) wasn’t helping her GF.

Jon’s out of the tunnels now because the Archive Crew’s exploring. (Not!Them escaped and is staying away from the Eye’s domain so it’s not trapped there. Preparing for the unknowing probably.)

Jon makes some knew friends! (The other Avatars) They hate him! Very Much!

Jon’s actually become a bit infamous among the things of the fears as this (supposed) Avatar to The Eye that just keeps fucking their stuff up.

Micheal is just loving watching everyone pull their hair about this. He’s still taking people though (Helen…)

Peter complains about it to Elias. Elias has moved him up a few spaces on his his concern list.

Meanwhile Sasha, Tim, and Martin have also shifted their focus to that strange man that helped(?) them, supposedly clocked an old man to death, then vanished.

He shows up in statements sometimes and they’re debating on wether he’s a monster or some kind of monster hunter or maybe just a friendly-ish monster...

Tim think’s he’s good because he killed the worms (and stopped a circus mannequin in one statement), Martin’s cautious because he showed up at his house right before the worms attacked him and Sasha’s torn and undecided.

Sasha and Daisy have a fight like Daisy and Jon did but it gets sorted in a similar way except with less Elias hate.

Elias doesn’t face as much resistance in this au so doesn’t let his mask slip as much but he is being thrown so off by Jon.

Elias gets less hate because everyones focusing more on Jon aka strange library man aka Joe Spooky.

But I cannot stress enough how much worse this is for him than cannon.

•••

Melanie and Georgie are on a date or something when they come home to find a stranger petting the Admiral. Freaking out they jump to fight (Melanie)/call the police (Georgie) but the man stands up apologizing they froze.

Having him look directly at them made them feel like he was looking at every layer of them, from clothes to skin to bone.

It felt like he could riffle through their minds like a file cabinet but (even worse) like he didn’t need too. Like he already knew everything he wanted to about them.

He said they clearly didn’t recognize him, disappointed, like they should have, and that he just needed something familiar to be with for a while (gesturing to the cat).

He then mumbled something about recommending they avoid travel for a while and started to walk briskly (almost… awkwardly?) past them to the door.

He paused halfway out the door and mumbled to “stay away from The Magnus Institute, especially the Archivist. Don’t give them anything and whatever you do-”

He turned, and they could feel him seeing something about themselves even they didn’t know, all apologeticness gone from his character. “Do. Not. Give. A statement.”

They knew- they KNEW- with every fiber of their beings that he meant them no harm but would bring it regardless. In that moment, with every fiber of their beings, they knew.

Then he blinked and hurried out before either of them could snap to their senses.

They filled out a police report and tried to forget it but could constantly swear they caught glimpses of him around their neighborhood after that.

•••

Oh Boy The Web Keeps Trying To Wrap Itself Around Jon But It’s Not Working And It’s Pissing It Off!

The Unknowing happens much earlier

Eventually they go to stop the unknowing (guided by Elias) along with Basira and Daisy.

Nikola actually kidnapped Jon because she was obsessed with this “stranger” and thought he’d be fun for the ritual.

Micheal frees him and Helen shows up but they don’t kill each other. 

Micheal liiiives. 

Instead The Archive Crew finds a door opening up and the strange man from the tunnels assures them that the unknowing will fail whether they do anything or not.

He warns Sasha (and subconsciously Tim) especially to stay away from the stranger.

He lets slip a BUNCH more of way more personal information he knows about them to convince them to stay away.

He also warns them to not trust Elias. After Matin went “but Elias said-“

Sasha want to know what The Stranger means.

Tim does not like this. Neither does Daisy. They end up trying to fight Jon. Jon refuses to fight and let’s slip something about The Hunt controlling Daisy then bolts back into Helen’s door.

The Archivcrew end up being stalled enough that by the time they get there the whole place is aflame. (Thanks Jude….)

Tim and Martin have switched opinions of him. Tim distrusts him now and Martin feels he’s an ally, at least. Sasha has decided that whatever he is he’s information and goes on a search to find him with Daisy (uh oh) and Basira.

They end up going to where a break in was reported, nothing stolen and the description of a short, heavily scarred man with long hair matched their spooky man. (It’s Georgie’s house.)

Georgie and Melanie accidentally end up giving a statement which made for a very awkward moment when they said he said to not give anything to the Archivist and Sasha had to clear her throat and mention that she is the Archivist. Oops.

Meanwhile Elias is going nuts because now this blind spot has actively disrupted his plans. Jon has his full attention.

Elias (…Jonah) is patient. He’s waited so long for this, putting plans on hold to stomp out an unwanted rock in the road is fine.

1/? will probably make more of this EDIT: part 2

[schrijverr]

What’s up with that Sims guy?

After the Apocalypse Jon becomes an uni teacher, three students take in interest in what’s up with this weird new professor.

On AO3.

Ships: JonMartin

Warnings: none, but tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!

~~~~~~~~

Time and space moves differently around the Fears, something that could be confusing and strange, but also pretty handy as Jon and Martin had discovered during the Apocalypse. It meant that when they’d turned the world back to normal, banishing the Fears far away, no one had even noticed it had happened.

With Elias, uhm Jonah, gone their ties to the Institute had lessened. However, Jon was still depended on statements, but Martin had decided that being away from it all would be better for him, so Jon was now working part time, while Martin kept an eye on the place.

Which is how Jon had ended up as a professor at a university. He was filling in, because the current professor had gotten pregnant and they hadn’t been able to find someone more suitable than Jon to replace her temporarily.

Jon knew he didn’t have the credentials necessary, but he Knew everything with the help of the Beholding, so he hoped that would be enough to get him through the year.

So here he was, standing in front of a big hall that was slowly filling up with students, who were eyeing him with a mix of curiosity, confusion and uneasiness.

Once everyone had settled down he took a deep breath and started: “Hello everyone, I’m Jonathan Sims and I’m replacing your previous professor until she returns from her maternity leave. I have an oversight of what you all need to know and do this semester, so lets get started with that right away.”

~

Jane looked down at their new professor and shifted in her seat uneasily. He was strange, or at least had a strange aura surrounding him. Jane wasn’t once for judging on appearances, but it was hard not to wonder what the Hell had let a man such at him to this.

He was short, sure, but he wasn’t small and he had a big presence to make up for it. His black hair was streaked with gray, but he had a youthful face that didn’t quite match up, although the tiredness that hung around him seemed old.

Beside that he was also littered with scars. It was hard not to notice the white circles that contrasted with his dark skin, it could be acne scars if they hadn’t been on his exposed forearms as well and so perfectly round. And those weren’t even his only scars, the entire palm on his right had was covered with a burn mark and the open buttons on the top of his shirt exposed a white thin scar across his throat.

So, yeah, strange.

He started to introduce himself and his voice was posh and low, but overall pleasant to listen to, she supposed. This didn’t stop her from exchanging a small look with Jesse, her best friend. Jesse raised her brows at her and the message was received, they were so going to talk about this later.

Later came as soon as they were out the door. Jesse leaned over and said: “Tell me I wasn’t the only one who got a weird vibe from that guy.”

Jane laughed and shook her head and answered: “You weren’t, I mean, this who building is filled with stuffy academics and suddenly this random dude walks in with the scars of a thug? That’s weird.”

Jesse nodded and asked: “What do you think happened to him?”

“I don’t know.” Jane shrugged, “But it seems pretty rude to just ask.”

Jesse sighed, then perked up with a realization: “We could plant a seed in Sams head.”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jane said, mischief bubbling up inside her eyes. They had known Sam since their first year and were pretty close with the guy. Sam was also known for not being the most delicate or observant and unafraid to ask personal questions. If he was curious, he would ask.

“I would.” Jesse grinned back, she tugged her along through the crowd with an: “Come on!”

They found Sam easy enough and Jesse plopped down next to him and started: “Hey, Sam. What did you think of our new professor?”

Sam shrugged and scratched his forehead as he said: “Dressed like every other pretentious asshole in here, posh accent. But seemed to know his stuff. Normal teacher if you ask me. Why?”

Jesse inflated: “Come on. Don’t tell me you haven’t even noticed!”

“Noticed what?” Sam asked with a frown.

“The scars.” Jane said.

“Oh, were they scars.” Sam said, “I thought he had weird freckles.”

“Weird fr-” Jesse began before cutting herself off and asking: “Aren’t you curious why they’re there? I’ve never seen scars like that.”

“And the burnt hand and the scar on his neck.” Jane continued, “Those don’t appear randomly.”

Both looked at her now, heads to the side in confusion. Jane said: “Oh, didn’t see those?”

Jesse and Sam shook their heads. “Well,” Jane explained, “He has this burn on his hand like he gripped a hot burning coal or something and this line here,” she drew on her neck with her finger to signal where it was, “like someone tried to slit his throat. Makes me wonder what he did before this job.”

The three of them fell silent. Lost in thought to what could’ve happened to their new mysterious professor before all of this.

~

The next lesson didn’t clear anything up in the slightest. While they were discussing the 17th century literature circles Sam had raised his hand signaling he had a question. Jane and Jesse, who had decided to sit behind him tensed up. He got called on and asked: “Dr. Sims, what did you do before this?”

Dr. Sims frowned and pushed up his glasses, before saying: “You don’t have to call me doctor, it wouldn’t be deserved. Just Sims is fine, or Mr. Sims if that feels better. And I’m the A- an archivist.”

“Am?” Sam blurted out.

Sims laughed humorlessly and said: “Yeah, part time now.”

Then he went back to the lesson and didn’t acknowledge any more questions about his life. Jane didn’t know how he did it, but he seemed to just know which people had questions about the lesson and which about him.

She walked out the hall with Sam and Jesse, who said: “That wasn’t insightful at all.”

Jane agreed: “Yeah, in what danger would an archivist be that leaves that kind of scarring?”

Sam shrugged and pulled out his phone as he said: “I can Google it.” the he muttered more to himself: “What kind of danger experiences an archivist, cool yeah.”

Jesse strained her neck to look on his screen and asked: ‘Well, what does it say?”

“Nothing much actually. Just a bunch of online archives and stuff.” Sam said.

Jane had a bit of a light bulb moment and suggested: “What if you type in Jonathan Sims?”

“Jonathan?” Jesse asked.

Jane shrugged and said: “It’s how he introduced himself during the first lecture.”

Sam typed in the name and his eyebrows crept further up to his hairline as he read the results of his search. Jesse couldn’t take it anymore and ripped the phone out of his hand, quickly scanning the page and gasping. Jane was now also curious and asked: “Well, tell me.”

She showed her the screen and Jane read the headlines. ‘Explosion at the Wax Museum, two survivors.’ The small excerpt reads: Last night there was an explosion at the wax museum, cause is still unknown, but suspected attack. Two survivors were found on the scene. Basira Hussain and Jonathan Sims, the latter of which is in a coma…

Underneath that is another headline. ‘Attack at the Magnus Institute unearths body of former archivist Gertrude Robinson’ with a picture of a big fire brigade, some police and an ambulance under it, she can vaguely make out Sims getting loaded into the back of one of them.

And lastly a small report into the murder of Gertrude Robinson, listing Jonathan Sims as one of the suspects along with one about an older guy, who was apparently found dead in Sims office.

Jane leaned back and whispered: “What the actual fuck.”

After that the rumors spread over the campus and by the time the next lecture rolled around the whole room was buzzing with nervous energy. Sims took one look around the room and sighed: “You are probably not going to let this go in favor of learning something that will actually be useful. Correct?”

A murmur went through the crowd, they had realized that the rumors had most likely reached Sims, but they hadn’t realized he’d be so straightforward about it.

“Okay.” Sims said, “I am willing to sacrifice ten minutes of my lecture for inquiries, but I will not promise to answer.”

Then he waited. Sam was the first to raise his hand and when called upon he asked: “How did you get the scars?”

Sims thought about it, the class thought he was thinking about how to bring it delicately and thoughtful, but inside Jons mind he heard Martin laugh at him and tell him he was an idiot after Jon had told someone the round scars had come from tripping. In hindsight it hadn’t been a good excuse, so Jon decided that vague was probably the safest way to go and said: “A workplace incident.”

Without raising his hand this time Sam asked: “Did it happen during the attack on your workplace? Why would anyone even attack archives?”

“The Archives are a small place in a big organization.” Jon began to explain, ignoring the fact that the Archives had been the target, “And in the end it turned out to be an aggressive infestation, just an accident.”

“Why your institute then?” Sam asked.

“Depends on if you believe in the paranormal, but you have to excuse me, Mr. Jacobs. It seems you are not the only one with questions.” Sims replied, then he turned to the other side and said: “Yes, Ms. Hendrickson?”

“Did you murder anyone?” she asked, clapping her hand over her mouth afterwards in shame of the question that she had blurted out.

Sims didn’t react to the harsh and accusatory question, just said: “If I murdered anyone, I wouldn’t be here, but in prison, don’t you agree?” then he smiled, but somehow Jane didn’t feel comforted by it.

Jesse spoke up, causing Jane to duck into herself in the hope that she wouldn’t be noticed in her seat next to Jesse. She asked: “Then who murdered them?”

Sims huffed a breath, blowing a strand of hair out of his face in the process and answered: “That would’ve been my former boss, I have to say I’m happy to see him gone and his replacement is more than capable.” he looked at the clock and clapped his hands, making more than a few people flinch. Then he stated: “That’s enough questions, time’s up. Lets get back to the symbolism in poetry during the Renaissance.”

And so life continued with Sims as their professor. There was still something uneasy about him, like he was just a sliver off in a way you couldn’t pinpoint, but felt in your bones.

But he was actually quite nice. Which was weird in itself, since he could be pretty prickly and snappy if he found your reasoning or answer particularly stupid or ignorant and he was generally grumpy, but that changed completely if you actually had a problem and needed help. He would listen and then explain with the things you could understand, it was as if he could look at you and know what you needed to understand. That was also strange, but it was nice to have someone explain so correctly.

He was also a walking encyclopedia. He had fun fact about everything and when they said everything they meant everything. When he noticed Mary had died her hair he said: “I like your hair, did you know hair dye contains over 5.000 chemicals.”

Then when Jamie asked what kind of tea he was drinking he answered: “Lady Grey, it was created by Twinings in the early 1990s to appeal to the Nordic market, which found Earl Grey too strong.”

While discussing Oscar Wilde he commented: “Funny how important this guy is, since he has only published one novel in his life.”

When Kyra stumbled in late telling him the taxi had broken, he replied with: “Well cars have about 30.000 parts, so it isn’t far fetched that something broke.”

The funniest part about it was that it just happened to slip out it seemed. He was also just as surprised as them when something like that tumbled out of his mouth and he always covered it up with a small cough, before ignoring it had happened and moving on with his lesson.

It had become a bit of a game among students to make him say a fun fact. Sims had caught on to it, but he didn’t seem to mind all that much, his lips only tightening the littlest amount and his eyes tiring slightly.

So all in all, after two moths of lessons they felt like they knew the guy. He was nice in a grumpy way, could tear you apart verbally if he wanted to, had a lot of facts and worked part time as an archivist, which was apparently a pretty dangerous job.

Jane, Jesse and Sam had become pretty close to him, often staying after class to ask a few questions about the subject, help clean up, try to pry into his private life. The last thing never seemed to work, but it was fun to try and Sims had never let on that he minded it. He even seemed to enjoy their little chats.

Then one time after class, he suddenly looked up, frowned and stalked out of the hall. Quickly sharing glances the three followed after him, curious what had gotten his attention so suddenly.

They walked through a bunch of the main halls, then through a few quiet corridors until they were much further than hearing range, making them slightly uncomfortable. There was a kid, first year probably, barely an adult still very much baby faced, crying on the floor, knees drawn tight to his chest.

Cautiously Sims approached him and gently lowered himself to the ground. The kid looked up at him with a startled face, but Sims shushed him and gently asked: “What’s wrong?”

There was something off about the words, something compelling. The kid starts to speak, he had a slightly northern accent: “It’s all so different here with the big buildings and large crowds with loads of people everywhere, still I’m all by myself. No one want to talk to the dumbass from north, who has trouble with the tubes, you know.” he sniffled a sad chuckle, “And everything is just so overwhelming and I have no one to guide me or to talk to and I hate it. Then I saw everyone just talking about a party and I know it’s dumb, but I heard them say they were going to invite everyone and someone asked even me, but then they laughed and said of course not and I just couldn’t anymore, so I went here and I cried.”

It seemed he was finished and went back to small sniffles and silent tears. Sims gently put a hand on the kids knee and said: “Did that help?”

“Yeah,” the kid looked at him, “bit cathartic, honestly. Sorry for the trouble.”

“Oh, it’s no problem, Edward.” Sims said.

The kid didn’t seem to realize it, but the three silent watchers noticed the kid had never mentioned his name.

Sims went on: “If you like, you can come over to my lecture hall. There are a few older years there, nice people, who I’m sure will want to help you. And a cup of tea.”

Edward rubbed his eyes and said: “They wouldn’t want to talk to me, I’m a loser and I don’t want the to think I’m even more one by telling them what happened.”

“I’m sure you won’t have. They’ve been where you are.” Sims responded, there was a bit of an edge to his voice and they realized he knew they were there and he was right. Jesse had been too brash, Jane too shy and Sam too blunt, it’s what had made them flock together. It was much better now, but they all remembered those awful first weeks. Without saying a word they hurried back to Sims hall.

When he came back they were making tea and lounging around. Jesse greeted him: “Hey, Sims. Where were you suddenly off to?”

Jane pushed her slightly and said: “Don’t pry.” then she turned back, “Want a cuppa, we just put on the kettle?”

Sims smiled and said: “I’d like that, could you make one for my friend, Edward here, as well. I had forgotten I was going to meet him, he’s curious about the Minor course and I thought maybe you could tell him a bit about it. If it isn’t any trouble, of course.”

“Of course not.” Jane smiled, then gestured to a chair: “Here, come sit with us.”

Edward did and later left feeling much better with a few new friends.

Friends, who were beginning to be suspicious about their teacher. They had a lengthy discussion about his knowing stuff and his spooky vibe. But no certain conclusion could be made and they decided that the mission for this year was finding out at least one personal fact about their teacher to prove he was at least somewhat normal.

They didn’t have to wait long. Their classes had been thrown around due to an unfortunate miscommunication. So two classes were switched, causing Sims to teach on Wednesday instead of Thursday for just one week. He looked a bit pale that day, but nothing out of the ordinary. It was the season, so no one spared it a second thought. Until a larger man came through the door after a gentle knock.

He was tall, about 6ft2, and chubby with a crème sweater and jeans. His face was freckled and he wore a gentle smile like it was second nature. His hair was curly and looked very soft, he in his entirety looked soft, you know, like the kind of person you know gives good hugs the moment you see them.

Sims was the only one who didn’t seem startled by his knock, just looked at the man and frowned as he said: “Martin, what are you doing here?”

“Sorry, sorry, Jon.” the man, Martin, said apologetically, “I know you said not to come and such, but I saw you had forgotten your statement and I know how you can get without them, so I thought I’d bring them to you.”

“I was going to read it tomorrow.” Sims said, “It can wait for one day. It’s not like it used to be.”

“Yeah, I know that as well, but we agreed that a rhythm would be good for you and your body to get used to.” Martin replied, holding out a folder.

Sims grabbed the folder and sighed: “You’re probably right, annoying as that may be, but couldn’t it wait till after I was done?”

“No, I’m meeting Daisy to discuss the proper storage of a Hunt artifact and you know how Daisy can be.” he answered.

“Yeah, I know.” Sims chuckled, absentmindedly touching the scar on his neck.

“Besides, I wanted to see you.” Martin said, then he brushed a lock of hair, that had freed itself from Sims’ messy bun, behind Sims ear and pecked him on the cheek. Turning to leave immediately after calling out over his shoulder: “Read it, Jon! And don’t forget to pick up milk on the way back if you want any good tea.”

Martin opened the door and Sims smiled, like a real and soft and dopey smile, as he touched his cheek and yelled back: “I will, say hi to Daisy from me.”

Then Martin was gone and the silence that had fallen over the hall with Martins entrance was broken. Multiple people called out questions and it was a bit of a chaos. It took a few minutes to get everyone settled down again and Sims returned to his lecture as if nothing happened. Sam called out from the second row: “Really, Sims? Nothing?”

Sims shoulders sagged, he had clearly hoped he could get away with it and was sad that it hadn’t worked. He said: “Mr. Jacobs, although I appreciate your interest in my personal life, I hope that I don’t have to explain how normal it is for my husband to come bring me something I forgot at home.”

The hall exploded again, but Sims ignored it all again telling them there were more important things to talk about, for example the lecture, which will be on the exam.

For Jane, Jesse and Sam it was enough. Their teacher was weird and off, but he was nice enough and if someone as soft looking as the Martin figure was willing to marry him, then he was good enough in their opinion and not worth the detective work.

[pensivetense]

A List Of (Mostly TMA) Fic Recs Sorted By Vibe

Not an exhaustive list by any means, just a few favourites that caught my fancy. I shortened many of the summaries for space.

I’m going to pin this here and update it as I go.

Also, I’m pensivetense on ao3

MELANCHOLY VIBES

for when you want to feel comfortably muted

(sad but not utterly bleak endings here)

Hope, Etc. (Dickenson, et al.) by yellow_caballero

Jonathan Sims, six months after the Unknowing, wakes to find himself without a daemon - without humanity, without a soul. It’s a cursed half-life, but existence as a shell without a heart isn’t so bad: between solving the mystery of a persistent illusion cast over his friends and some light pseudo-cannibalism, a life as a monster is better than no life at all. At least, it would be, if it wasn’t for the fucking Owl.

A freaking. Amazing. Daemon au. Ties the lore of Dust with TMA lore very satisfyingly, but is mostly about Jon navigating what it means to be human, or, in the absence of that, a person, and doesn’t require prior knowledge of His Dark Materials. Cannot recommend highly enough.

after one long season of waiting by nuinuijiaojiao

Annabelle is not used to having nice things. or, Annabelle heads to Upton House, muses a little, and gets some well-deserved rest

I love survivalist Annabelle and also the concept of the Web as kind of a horrible Patron, actually.

i love you. I want us both to eat well. by SmallishWormMasterOfTheUniverse

At the safehouse with Martin, Jon decides it's time to quit statements once and for all. The Eye disagrees. Martin just needs Jon to be okay. It's quite possible that nobody is going to get what they want.

Scottish Safehouse Era, Jon and Martin coping with their respective Entities... really, really good.

the friend by doomcountry

He always greets a new spider when he meets it. It’s instinct, born in childhood, the same way he instinctively counts magpies, or flicks salt over his left shoulder. A little harmless superstition. A bit of politesse.

A great Martin character study with eldritch spider horror included. The imagery regularly haunts me (in a good way).

autumn’s rare gift by bee_bro

Annually, the two meet, renewing the binding ritual where it had all started. The procedure simple: a waltz.

Singlehandedly made me ship Gertrude/Agnes so there’s that. It’s so bittersweet and bee_bro’s writing is, as always, incredibly poetic. (I’d recommend everything they write, actually.)

smile, you’re trending by Goodluckdetective

During an encounter with another Avatar of the Eye, Jon faces his past, Martin takes a turn at playing Kill Bill and Basira has a second look at the monster she’s determined to see. For three people associated with the Eye, they could all use some perspective.

Features an original Eye Avatar character who’s a YouTube personality; she is infuriating and inspired and genuinely frightening and I cannot say enough good things.

Humility by The_Lionheart

have you no idea that you're in deep?/i've dreamt about you nearly every night this week,/how many secrets can you keep?

An OC centric story but don’t let that put you off, it’s amazing. Very heavily focused around Jonah Magnus and the other Avatars as they change through the years. Also, I’d die for the OC.

oh, for one sweet second without the eye series by faedemon

Beholding does not like in the way humans do, but it likes its Archivist all the same.

I’m just so fond of the way this is done stylistically. I have a great weakness for dialogue only/dialogue heavy writing, not to mention all of the wonderful character beats and interplay of humanity/inhumanity for Jon and Melanie.

Rewind by WhyNotFly

It takes eight days of forced confinement for Jon to start hallucinating. [...] It’s Martin, though, that his exhausted brain conjures, because of course it’s Martin. After all this time, of course it’s Martin.

Jon willingly allows himself to be confined rather than hunting for statements, and examines his relationship with Martin.

for a firmament series by supaslim

There is beauty in destruction. There is art in becoming. In which Jon becomes the Archive, and the Archive becomes Jon.

Part two posted this morning and uhhh. Good. Also if you’re here for weird eldritch body horror (I am), this one’s for you.

ONES THAT JUST HURT

for when you want to feel sad

(somewhat bleaker endings here/everyone is NOT okay)

Feste by yellow_caballero

If asked, Martin would say that he became the shadow director of the Magnus Institute by accident. But nobody ever asked, and nobody ever cared, and it was in this way that Martin stopped lying to himself. Or: break free, Martin. All you have to lose are your chains. And your sanity.

Oh, this one totally didn’t go the way I expected it to. A study in isolation. Could go into the category above, as the ending is not bleak, but the tone of the whole is somewhat more depressing than most there.

Ghosts of Love by RavenXavier

Nothing made Martin more grounded in the world than yearning for Jonathan Sims.

Lonely!Martin that really captures a sort of visceral ache. Hurts me and yet I keep rereading.

i do desire (we may be better strangers) by godbewithyouihavedone

For ages, it only knew how to worship, taking human bodies and living off the fear of those who remembered. It never knew love until it became Jonathan Sims. Now it must fight against every instinct to save Martin Blackwood. Archivist Sasha, Not!Jon/Martin, and the worst kind of Fake Dating AU.

Oh, this one just made me sad. The poor not!them, which is something I never thought I’d say.

Apple Of Your Eye by fakeCRfan

In which the Eye is fond of Martin. Perhaps a little too fond for comfort.

Somehow manages to be both sweet and horrifying—the characterisation of the Eye is incredible. ‘The Eye loves Martin’ is a scenario that’s so utterly doomed to failure and yet the writing is packed with so much pathos that I just want them all to be happy. A fantastic use of themes of agency and choice, and the single best use of Beholding as a source of horror I’ve read.

The Last Press by copperbadge

Jon Sims is awake, and has begun preparations for the Rite of the Watcher's Crown. Peter Lukas, who woke him, would be content to rule at his side. Martin is very upset about all of this, and the Lukases aren't thrilled with it either.

I really can’t say anything without spoiling the end and it’s so good. An alternate take on the Watcher’s Crown. Not a pairing that I ever thought would work for me, but this made it work.

watch the blood evaporate by 75hearts

It starts, like so many things in Jon’s life have started, with a nagging itch of curiosity. Jonathan Sims uses his healing abilities throughout s4. Read the tags.

Dear God please read the tags. But this is some high quality pain if it’s for you.

the lighthouse series by low_fi

Peter Lukas is a lighthouse keeper. One evening, he gets a call from a cryptic overseer tasked with monitoring his work.

This is such a vivid and yet subtle story—from the setting to the emotions portrayed, it creeps up on you slowly. The ending was like the gentlest possible gut-punch. The sequel just completed, and yeah, just as wonderful. This one is very much LonelyEyes but I listed it here because it is just exquisitely painful.

SATISFYINGLY HOPEFUL VIBES

for when you want to feel cozy

Clutching Daffodils by Gemi

Martin has always liked the idea of love at first sight. It’s such a romantic idea, the whole thing of it. Seeing someone and instantly feeling that strange, twisting feeling deep inside that every single media likes to obsess over. Of knowing you are in love within the day, petals falling from your mouth and warmth filling your chest as love burrows deep, vines twisting through your lungs. He always liked the idea of it. And then Jonathan Sims starts working at the Magnus Institute.

Somehow manages to be lighter and fluffier than most hanahaki fare, despite the setting. I’ve reread this one a lot.

the least he could do by Prim_the_Amazing

Martin should in fact not pick this man, specifically because of how attracted he is to him. It would be the responsible thing to do. Except he’s already following him. And he’s hungry.

Fluffy vampire au which everyone’s probably already read, but was too good not to mention.

rather interesting by bee_bro

Jonah Magnus realizes that, for some reason, when he comes in contact with weed, Elias Bouchard's consciousness will come into his life banging pots and pans.

Oh boy. So these are all favourite fics but this one is a favourite amongst favourites. The way Jonah is characterised (i.e. incredibly sensitive to scrutiny) is my favourite depiction of him, and the slow-burn between him and Elias is far sweeter than it has any right to be. Also, it’s hilarious.

The Magnus Records series by ErinsWorks

In a world parallel to that of the Archives and the Institute, a supernatural sanctuary stands against a cruel and uncaring world: A world of bureaucracy and tyranny, of murder and carnage, of loneliness and surveillence, of plague and death. But in this world of fear and misery, 14 entities born of the hopes of the world have emerged. And one of them has made their home here, at The Magnus Sanctuary. Perhaps, the employees within may lead happier lives than their counterparts did in the Archives.

This is just so goddamn pure. The author writes a really imaginative, fleshed-out alternate world and alternate Entities with engaging, well-written short statements. All of the character voices are absolutely on point, and it’s overall absurdly hopeful without ever feeling overly saccharine. I love this series so much, you guys, you don’t even know. I want to print it out and paste it on my wall. I love it.

HARD APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel dark and angsty (and eldritch)

Most of these are shorts/oneshots because it’s just that kind of genre, y’know?

Ashes to Ashes by marrowbones

A conversation at the end of the world.

Oliver Banks is one of those minor characters that I am overly attached to. Love him here.

Employee Benefits by equals_eleven_thirds

The Magnus Institute offered some normal employee benefits: a pension plan, holidays, travel subsidies, free lunch on the last Friday of each month. Rosie makes it work.

This manages to hit that perfect sweet spot of satisfying and hilarious. Rosie gets to torment Elias, as she well deserves.

a rose by any other name by Duck_Life

Part of Jon blooms in Jared Hopworth’s garden.

This one was sad and honestly too gentle to really belong in this category, but I love it.

Eye to Eye by Dribbledscribbles

In which Jonah Magnus attempts a post-apocalyptic pep talk.

Unreliable narrator at its finest, and the implications are suitably horrific.

commensalis by doomcountry

The tower is endlessly, impossibly tall, but Jon’s work is taller.

If you’re here for the eldritch imagery, then this has some of the best.

SOFT APOCALYPSE

for when you want to feel gently triumphant

apocalypse how series by sunshine_states

Humanity adjusts. The Entities have Regrets.

Some nice vignettes set in a kinder apocalypse.

ceylon series by Sciosa

The one in which Jonathan Sims decides that no, actually, he isn't going to let the world just end.

I include this only for the sake on completeness, as everyone has no doubt already read it.

rituals by doomcountry

Martin is the first person to knock on the Archivist's door since it arrived, fully, into its little waiting temple. The Archivist saw him coming from down the hall, but decides to feign interest when the knob turns, and Martin—still a little bit smaller, a little more translucent than before—stands uncertainly just outside the room.

This one’s a little less focused on the world at large and more on JonMartin specifically.

we raise it up by savrenim

Jonathan Sims reads a book and saves the world; although maybe the real salvation is the friends he makes along the way; (although perhaps the world itself and the darkness that exists behind it isn't quite as out to get everyone as it seems).

More ‘soft revolution’ than ‘soft apocalypse’, but has the same vibe. A time travel fix-it. Incomplete but worth it if this is a mood that appeals to you.

Scarred Ground by DictionaryWrites

“You see," Elias said softly, "people always have this idea that only living things can be scarred - and they're right, of course. But a building is a living thing, Martin. And the ground can be scarred, too." "I don't have any scars," Martin said. "Yes, you do," Elias said. "You just need the right light to see them.”

Falls somewhere between ‘Apocalypse’ and ‘Soft Apocalyse’ but I’m putting it here because I feel like it. Also technically a LonelyEyes fic. I found it hard to follow at first but it’s worth sticking with; things will eventually begin to make sense and come together.

LONELYEYES

for when you want to feel lonelyeyes

marrying anguish with one last wish by procrastinatingbookworm

In which Elias isn't Orpheus, and Peter isn't Eurydice, but Elias brings Peter home anyway.

Lives in my head rent free forever. My favourite lonelyeyes fic.

ouroboros by Wildehack

“You know,” Jonah says, a muscle in his calf quivering agreeably where it’s slung over Mordechai’s shoulder, “it’s really quite--fortunate--that I don’t care for you at all.”

Oh, this one hurts in the best possible way. The endless cycle of their relationship, the way it comes full-circle... yeah, good. Actually, no, this one might be my favourite. It’s a tie.

Breaking all the Rules by Thedupshadove

Elias proposes a somewhat...unusual wager.

Soft lonelyeyes? In my recs? It’s more likely than you think. Short, sweet, and... sweet.

Threefold by Sprinkledeath

Peter Lukas breaks three rules.

I’m just a slut for mythology allusions I guess.

Luck Be A Lady Tonight by prodigy

In 2014, Elias Bouchard takes a rare trip outside of his comfort zone. Peter Lukas wastes a bunch of money. You'd be surprised how many things can go wrong for two beings of cosmic power.

I love the sense of the history of them you get while reading this.

love is just a word (the idea seems absurd) by kaneklutz

"Something's wrong. It's stopped hurting" An avatar of the Lonely and an avatar of the Beholding walk into a bar relationship. It was bound to blow up in their faces.

Short, sweet, painful. Excellent exploration of their priorities.

Victor by penguistifical

elias tries something with his powers that he hasn't attempted before

The one where Elias tries to raise the dead. Not incredibly LonelyEyes centric but that’s still the pairing.

Simon Says by penguistifical

“Peter asked me to drop by and have a word with you, and, so, here I am.” Simon chuckles at Elias’s disbelieving stare. “Well, he asked in his own way. He’s not a complicated man, you know. He either comes from your arms looking like a stroked cat that’s been given a dish of cream or looking like he’s been in that toy boat of his out in an unexpected storm. He was far angrier than normal, so I daresay you weren’t cream today.”

I mean personally I’d just go ahead and rec all of penguistifical’s LonelyEyes fics but this is a standout for me.

AROMANTIC AND ASPEC MOODS

for when you want to feel Seen

The Aro Archives series by WhyNotFly

These are all just really really good. From Aro!Peter to two different aro-spec versions of the Scottish Safehouse to a long and beautiful aro hanahaki fic, this series is uniformly wonderful. The two Scottish Safehouse ones (Torn Edges and Murky Water) are my comfort fics.

and now all fear gives way by j_quadrifons

Before he can think it through, he murmurs, "Is that what it feels like? Being in love?" Martin's hand stills in his hair and Jon's stomach drops.

This one just. Wow yeah this is how it be. Another absolute comfort fic of mine.

Sweet As Roses by Prim_the_Amazing

Jon takes Martin by the shoulders, leans up on the tips of his toes, and kisses him.

I’m going to be honest—I didn’t know where to put this one. But it ended up here because the real standout of this fic for me is the portrayal of Sasha, and especially her portrayal as an aro character. So I’m putting it here. Mind the content warnings with this one!

HUMOUR

for when you want to feel delight

The Torment of Sebastian Skinner by Urbenmyth

After the Eye's victory, the statement givers are trapped in their horror stories, living them over and over again. Naturally, this works out better for some then for others.

Premise? Delightful. Execution? Fantastic. I read this one to cheer myself up when I’m sad.

Unlucky by VolxdoSioda

Jon’s dice betray him

Short, sweet DnD au, and the reason I cannot get DM!Elias out of my head now.

Voracious by beetl

A bird hits the window. Jon experiences The Flesh's thrall.

“Dead Dove: Do Not Eat” but make it literal.

The Stupid Endings by Urbenmyth

There are a lot of very deeply thought out and creative AUs on this site. These aren't among them. These ones are how the story could have ended, if Jonny Sims was a dumbass.

These are just uniformly hilarious, I cannot recommend them highly enough.

PODCAST CROSSOVERS

for when you want to make one of those “if I had a nickel for every time...” posts

The Sabbatical by morelikeassassin

Nicholas Waters is in need of an all-knowing eldritch entity beyond the confines of human imagining to help with his latest ritual. He'll have to settle for Jonathan Sims, who happens to have nothing better to do.

Crossover with Archive 81 (s3, specifically). Both fun and bittersweet.

The City And Its Sorrows by cuttooth

“What makes you think your friend is in Eskew?” David asks. He feels he can risk the scrutiny of the city that far. “I read that this is a place people end up when they get lost,” says the man. “This is a place people end up,” David agrees./The Archivist comes to Eskew.

Contemplative piece, and I love the way it presents David’s relationship with Eskew, the way he finds it horrible and hates it and yet belongs to it, is almost proud in the way he shows to to Jon. Great little vignette of two people oppressed by eldritch powers, intersecting.

Hiatus by bibliocratic

My name is Jonathan Sims, and I am in Eskew. (Jon gets lost in a Spiral city. It is not as easy as escaping.)

This one is far more focused on Jon than David, and is honestly more Eskew-weird than Spiral-weird. In the best way. Told in Eskew episode style, and is very good.

Sweet Music by Shella688

Eskew has a music to it, if you know how to listen. The percussion beat of thousands of footsteps, the melody in the squealing of the trains overhead. Today, the music of Eskew comes in the form of nine musicians, playing outside my office. My name is David Ward, and I am in Eskew.

Not TMA, but since a lot of Mechs fans go here—this one’s a Mechs/Eskew crossover. Short and simple, mostly David Ward centric, just a little well-written one shot I had to mention because I enjoyed it but it doesn’t have much traffic. Nice portrayal of the Mechs from an outsider’s perspective, and how genuinely strange and frightening they’d come across (especially if you’re already being haunted by and eldritch city). If you like Eskew-style storytelling, check it out!

NOT TMA

...but good enough that I physically cannot make a recs list without including them. Here!

[theradioghost]

I don't know if you're still doing podcast recs, but if you are, I really like dramas, horror, sci-fi, honestly anything that gives you the feels (especially if it has lgbtq+ rep). I am not much of a comedy person though unfortunately. The only podcast I finished was tma and I really loved it.

The recommendations are always on tap here, whenever my askbox is open! You might wanna check out:

Archive 81, for a found-footage horror about mysterious archives of tapes full of encounters with otherworldly horror, dark rituals, cults, and a long-suffering archivist with the same name as the show creator who plays him, which despite all that could not possibly be more different from TMA and yet easily matches it as one of the best horror stories I have ever enjoyed. The sound design on this show is basically unparalleled – where TMA has fairly minimalist sound design, A81 goes all out. Quite a few lgbtqa+ folk also.

I Am In Eskew, for a surreal, Lynchian horror about the city of Eskew, where it’s always raining and the streets are never the same twice, as narrated by a man who is trapped there and the woman hired to find him. Take the most viscerally disturbing episodes of TMA as a baseline for how intense this show is, then imagine the Spiral built a city and invited all the other fears over for a party. Also right up there as one of my favorite horror things ever, and recently ended, so you can listen to the whole thing right now.

Within The Wires, for a found-footage scifi dystopia, telling stories from an alternate-history world. Three of the four seasons focus on lgbtqa+ leads, and the first season, a set of instructional meditation tapes provided to a prisoner in a shadowy government institution, is still some of my absolute favorite creative use of medium and framing device ever.

Kane and Feels, for a surreal noir-flavored urban fantasy/horror hybrid, about a magically-inclined academic (and sarcastic little bastard man) named Lucifer Kane and his demon-punching partner with a heart of gold, Brutus Feels. They share a flat in London, they bicker like an old married couple, and they fight supernatural evil. This show WILL confuse the hell out of you and you will enjoy every second of it.

Alice Isn’t Dead, for a weird Americana horror story about a long-distance truck driver, criss-crossing the US in search of her missing wife. Along the way she discovers that both of them have been drawn into a dangerous secret war that seethes in the empty and abandoned expanses of America, and that inhuman hunters have begun to follow her. Also finished! And as the title kind of gives away, the lesbians do not die!

Janus Descending, for a sci-fi horror miniseries about two scientists sent to survey the remains of a dead alien civilization on a distant planet, only to learn all too well why the original inhabitants have disappeared. You hear one character’s story in chronological order and the other in reverse, with their perspectives alternating, which is done in an incredibly clever way so that even technically knowing what will happen it still holds you in suspense right to the end. Also, it made me cry, a lot.

SAYER, for a sci-fi horror with a touch of dark comedy, and probably the single best use of the “evil AI” trope I have ever seen. Tells the story of employees of tech corporation Aerolith Dynamics living on Earth’s artificial second moon, Typhon, in the form of messages from their AI overseer SAYER. The first season is great, the second season is okay, and the third and fourth seasons are fucking amazing.

Tides, for a really interesting sci-fi about a lone biologist trapped on an alien world shaped by deadly tidal forces. It’s different from just about any other sci-fi I know, focusing more on the main character’s interactions with and observations of this strange new world, where she’s very aware that she is the alien invader. (Also I don’t think any of the characters are straight.)

Station to Station, for a thrilling sci-fi mystery where a group of scientists and spies on a research ship (the ocean kind) discover that the time-warping anomaly they’re studying might be causing people to vanish from existence. Corporate espionage and high-stakes heartbreak abound. (And once again I’m not sure anyone is straight.)

The Strange Case of Starship Iris, for Being Gay And Doing Crime IN SPACE! Or, decades after a war with an alien species leaves humanity decimated and under the control of totalitarian leaders, the lone survivor of a research mission joins up with a ragtag crew of rebels and smugglers to figure out why the very government she worked for tried to kill her, and to stop them from inciting a second war. 100% lgbtqa+ found family in space heist action and it’s glorious in every way.

Unwell, for the horror-ish Midwestern gothic story of a young woman who returns to her hometown to help her estranged mother after an injury, and discovers that there is something just a little bit wrong, not just with her mother, but with her mother’s house, and with the whole town. Subtle and creepy. The protagonist is a biracial lesbian, one of the other major characters is nonbinary, the cast in general is super diverse.

The Blood Crow Stories, for an lgbtqa+ focused horror anthology! The four seasons so far have been the stories of an ancient evil stalking the passengers of a WWI-era utopian cruise ship, a dark Western mystery about a group of allies trying to stop the mysterious killer known only as the Savior, a 911 operator in a cyberpunk dystopia who starts getting terrifying phone calls from demons, and strange and deadly goings-on at a film studio in the golden age of Hollywood. Everyone is Very Gay and anyone can die, especially in season 1.

The Tower, for a melancholy experimental miniseries about a young woman who decides she’s going to climb the mysterious Tower, from which no one has ever returned. Quite short and very, very good.

Palimpsest, for a creepy, heartbreakingly sad and yet incredibly beautiful anthology series. Season one is the story of a woman who suspects her new home is haunted, season two is a turn-of-the-century urban fantasy about a girl who falls in love with the imprisoned fae princess she’s been hired to care for, and season three is about a WWII codebreaker who begins seeing ghosts on the streets of London during the Blitz.

Mabel, for a part-horror, part-love story, the kind of faerie tale where you feel obliged to spell it with an E because these are the kind of faeries that are utterly inhuman, and beautiful, and dangerous. Anna, the new caretaker for an elderly woman, leaves messages for her client’s mysteriously absent granddaughter Mabel. An old house in Ireland has a life and desires of its own, few of them friendly. Two women fall in love and set out for vengeance against the King Under The Hill. Creepy, strange, and gorgeously poetic.

Ars Paradoxica, for a sci-fi time travel Cold War espionage thriller. Physicist Dr. Sally Grissom accidentally invents time travel, landing herself – and her invention – in the middle of a classified government experiment during WWII. As the course of history utterly changes around them, she and what friends she can find in this new time must struggle with the ethics of what they’ve done, and the choices they’ll have to make. An aroace protagonist, Black secret agents, time-traveling Latina assassins, Jewish lesbian mathematicians, two men of color whose love changes the course of time itself, this show says a big fuck you to the idea that there’s anything hard about having a diverse cast in a period piece and it will break your heart, multiple times. Also finished!

The Far Meridian, for a genre-bending, poetic, at-times-heartwarming-at-times-heartbreaking story about an agoraphobic woman named Peri who decides to begin a search for her long-missing brother Ace after the lighthouse in which she lives begins mysteriously transporting to different places every day. I can never forget an early review that described this show as “the audio equivalent of a Van Gogh painting.” Suffice to say it is beautiful, and fantastically written and put together.

What’s the Frequency?, for a Surrealist noir horror mystery set in mid-20th-century LA. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure I can really explain what goes on in this show, but it features a detective named Walter “Troubles” Mix and his partner Whitney searching for a missing writer. Meanwhile, the only thing that seems to be playing on the radio is that writer’s show Love, Honor, and Decay, which also seems to be driving people to murder. Fantastically weird, deliciously creepy.

Directive, for a short sci-fi miniseries about a man hired to spend a very, very long trip through space alone, which doesn’t seem all that sad until suddenly it hits you with Every Feel You’ve Ever Had, seriously I don’t want to spoil it so I won’t say anything more but listen to this and then never feel the same way about Tuesdays again.

Wolf 359, for honestly one of the best podcasts out there, containing all of the drama and feels, seriously this show ended over two years ago and I still cry literal tears thinking about it sometimes. It has definite comedic leanings, especially in the first season which reads a bit more like a wacky office comedy set in space, but it takes a sharp turn towards high stakes, action, and feelings and that roller coaster never stops. Take four clashing personalities alone on a constantly-malfunctioning space station eight light years from earth, add some mysterious transmissions from the depths of space, toss in some seriously Jonah-Magnus-level manipulative evil bosses, and get ready to cry.

or, may I suggest Midnight Radio? It’s a lesbian-romance-slash-ghost-story completed miniseries about a late-night 1950s radio host in a small town who begins receiving mysterious letters from one of her listeners, and I have been assured by many people and occasionally their all-caps tweets that it provides ample Feelings! (also I wrote it.)

[lizard-goth]

OKAY so when I was taking my afternoon nap I had a dream I was in this creepy old house and Jonah Magnus showed up. We made out for awhile (obviously) but then he started going on about all the weird supernatural experiments he was doing and I was like “Man, this guy is crazy, I’ve gotta get out of here”. He also had this REALLY annoying “evil” laugh he kept doing that was like this high-pitched “Heeheehee!” and I wanted to tell him to shut the fuck up but didn’t want to make him angry. He revealed this spiral staircase he had found that went deep underground, and for some reason I decided to follow him down. It was really dark, but from what I remember there were various floors or areas that were dedicated to the various Entities. I don’t remember exactly how it happened, but Jonah found something weird that he got distracted by, so i used that opportunity to try and escape; instead of trying to make my way back up the staircase, though, I decided it would be safer to continue downward. I met some other people on the way and we had a conversation about how I had never played a GTA game before (everyone was shocked by this for some reason). Eventually we got to a floor and began to investigate a little. But then I heard sounds like something big was approaching, then all the lights went out and we only had flashlights illuminating the dark. I was like “Holy shit what do I do now!!” Even though Jonah wasn’t there he was someone able to tell me, “Welp, I dunno, but I think your best bet is to make sure every turns off all their lights and hides under a blanket, and just hope the thing doesn’t find you.” So we all began to quickly shut our lights off and hide, but I noticed that one girl, despite shutting her flashlight off, still had this small, blueish light hovering near her. I tried to very quietly whisper her name to get her attention, but she didn’t hear me; the light didn’t seem to be coming from anything she had with her, but she noticed it and became mesmerized. I realized there was nothing I could do to help her, so I just threw a blanket over my head and tucked it around my body, hoping that the creature or whatever wouldn’t find me. I heard this awful commotion as it took the girl near me while she investigated the weird light. I woke up shortly after this, but I just remember thinking, “Well, this seems to be working, but in that one TMA episode they said that ‘the blanket never did anything’ so maybe I’m not really safe at all!”

[hirac-delesbian]

GERTRUDE ROBINSON?

STUPID IDIOT MOTHERFUCKING GERTRUDE ROBINSON GOD DAMN FOOL STATEMENT READING SPIRAL FEEDING RAT OLD BASTARD SHITHEAD IDIOT AVATAR OF THE WHORE.

BIGGEST BITCH IN THE ARCHIVES LAUGHED OUT OF TOWN CISHET MOTHERFUCKING GERTRUDE ROBINSON.

STOP PINNING ME WHEN I TALK ABOUT GERTRUDE ROBINSON! I HATE HER SO MUCH WHY DOES SHE HAVE TO FIND SO MANY FUCKED UP RITUALS WHY DID SHE DECIDE TO FUCK AROUND AND STOP THEM JUST LET THEM LOOSE!

IS SHE DEAD? IS SHE A BASTARD? WOMAN HAS SUCH A VISCERAL EFFECT ON ME NOT EVEN IN THE ROOM NEVER MET THIS BITCH AND I KNOW SHE HAS THE WORLDS SHITTIEST EYE POWERS GET AWAY FROM ME.

If I wanted to get into heaven, and god said Gertrude Robinson was waiting inside, I would Piss on gods feet for the sole purpose of getting sent back down.

if I have to deal with Gertrude Robinson speaking One Word In Person On Voice In Podcast NOT ONLY will I close the tab, I will Delete my bookmark out of spite, and have to rewatch the Entire Series again for the experience of being able to skip all the times when she is mentioned? or ALIVE.

I don’t understand why people like her so much! She killed innocent people and I am just mad because I am Angsty.

She better have some fucked up backstory to explain this, if she’s just some dusty librarian whos a fan of creepypasta and wanted the irl version I’ll go Ham.

BETTER have had the web make her kill Michael cuz if she didnt I’m going to MAKE it kill her.

paypal.com/IFuckingHateGertrudeRobinson

episodes not even ABOUT her. vaguely mentioned what is supposed to maybe be her shit ass archive and I Lost it

where the fuck is Gertrude Robinson, if she’s still alive I’m going to so deeply wish she wasnt.

Crusty Old Hag.

I’ll punch Gertrude, and her sad frail old lady twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist and she will disintegrate until all thats left is one final statement she kept on her at all times simply titled “Now You Fucked Up” by Jonah Magnus.

I am not breathing I am hyperventilating At This Point.

I hope theres a date given for when Gertrude died or will die so I can make it a reminder on my phone. Everyday once a year I will see it and do ANYTHING but pay respects to the archivist who had so many Fucked Up If True statements.