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angelrari · 8 months

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gossip girl · pt. ii

based on the tv series gossip girl

max verstappen / charles leclerc x socialité!reader

fc: elsa hosk (y/n) · taylor hill (léa) · barbara palvin (jolie)

a/n: hi! thank you so much for the comments and the love gave to the first part. i am so excited about this!! i hope you like this part a lot!

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gossip girl here, your one and only source into the scandalous lives of monaco's elite.

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the event was extravagant. the guests were all notable people, from celebrities to businessmen, and the tables were perfectly decorated, filled with the finest wines and delicious food prepared by the best catering in town. it definitely was a party to remember, that would be talked about for years and it would solidify jolie's reputation.

"hi, sweetie". you heard a familiar voice say behind you and quickly you turned around.

"oh, hey mom. you look gorgeous". she smiled at the compliment and grabbed the hem of her dress to show off, which made you smile back to her. "where is it from?".

"chanel. it hasn't been the same since karl passed away, but virginie viard does things right, sometimes". she showed her disappointment with a wry face. "you also look fantastic, sweetie".

"thank you, mom". you took a sip of champagne. "where's dad, by the way?".

"oh, he's talking to the red bull kid. what was his name? martin? marcus?".

"max, mom".

"exactly, him. your father decided to invest in red bull a few years ago, after charles and you broke up, and it seems like the kid made him win a lot of money". she explained. "you know, your father doesn't know how to have fun without involving business in it".

"i guess somethings never change". you said and she nodded in agreement.

"look at them". your mother said and discreetly signaled with her gaze. jolie and arthur were dancing together, looking like they were having the time of their lives. "they remind me of-".

"charles and i". you interrupted. "i do feel that way too, but jolie keeps saying they are just friends".

"your sister is ambitious, maybe a little too much, and she won't settle for a formula 2 driver".

"i know". you sighed. "maybe i have to remind her i started dating charles when he was in formula 2".

"please, do. i'd love to have a leclerc in my family and now that you won't-".

"mom!". you interjected and she laughed in response.

"they are nice kids! and their mother is a wonderful person". she added and you rolled your eyes at her words. "anyway, you should go and talk to charles, he asked me about you earlier".

"let me get drunk first, maybe that way it will be less awkward".

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the autumn wind made your cheeks turn red and your hands cold. you were at the rooftop of the casino, where only a few people were. you were exhausted from avoiding charles and léa. somehow seeing them together made your stomach turn. what if they already felt this way when charles and you were dating? were there signs? did you miss them?

"y/n". you heard someone say and jumped at the sound of their voice. you turned around to face them, with both of your hands on your chest, feeling the heartbeat increase rapidly.

"oh, god". you breathed out, embarrassed by your reaction. "you scared me, max".

"sorry, i didn't mean to". he quickly apologized, smiling back at you.

"don't worry". you said. "how have you been? it's been a long time since i last saw you".

"eveything's good, yeah. i've been working a lot, but that's not exactly new, and things have been working well for me so far". the dutchman explained. "how about you? your father told me you were studying at harvard?"

"yeah, i just finished a master in business administration there and i came back a couple of days ago. i rushed it a bit to be able to attend to jolie's birthday today".

"and how come you're here?".

"to be honest, i kind of wanted to avoid some people". you answered and he laughed.

"right, charles and léa".

"i didn't name anybody!". you quickly replied and he chuckled.

you stared at the sea, feeling max join beside you. a cold wind breeze made you shiver and you moved your hands up and down your arms to warm your body up. max, who had noticed, took off his black blazer.

"here, take this".

"oh, no, you're gonna be cold and-".

"please". he pleaded and you nodded. he placed the black blazer and your shoulders and you smiled sincerely.

"thank you, max".

"it's nothing". he said and looked ahead of him. "i'm trying to get away from your dad and his friends". he confessed.

"i feel you, they just don't know when to stop. my mom has been also chasing me, telling me to go talk to charles and, please don't tell him, but that's the last thing i want to do".

"don't worry, i understand. it mustn't be easy to see your ex and the girl who used to be your best friend together".

"it's not". you agreed. "it's just- many things come back, you know? i do wish them the best and i hope their relationship lasts, but somehow it makes me question so many things. i keep thinking when did all of this start and if they liked each other when charles and i-. fuck, sorry, i'm drunk and i'm talking too much".

"it's okay". he reassured. "i know you probably don't like the advice i'm about to give you, but i think you should talk to them".

"i know, but léa hates me for leaving and i don't wanna mess things up between charles and i more. jolie and arthur are such good friends and i am scared of the consequences. i just- i don't want to start a war".

"you know this way you will never find peace, right?". he asked and you nodded. "you're gonna see them often. that's the downside of monaco. you're gonna attend the same events and you're gonna hang out with the same people". he turned around and his blue eyes starred directly at yours. "there's just no way to avoid this".

"i know, but i'd rather not do this tonight". you confessed. "thank you, max".

"what for?".

"for all of this. you probably have better things to do and here you are listening to my problems".

"well, you're helping me hide from your father, so i think that makes us even". he joked and you couldn't help but chuckle.

"i will keep your secret too".

"please, do". he begged. you starred at the moon, but he starred at you. "what are you thinking?".

"about how to leave this party without my parents noticing".

"well, i've got an idea". he said. "follow me".

max put out his hand to you and you took it. you followed him to the elevator and when you reached the first floor, where the party was taking place, he slyly guided you to a back door you didn't know it existed.

"you know, most times, when we come to the casino, we enter through this door". he explained. "people who don't want to be seen use this".

"right".

max quietly opened the door, praying nobody would be outside, but unluckily your dad and his friends were smoking near the exit. you looked at max, who starred back at you worried, grabbed his hand and started running so your father wouldn't stop you.

"y/n!". your father exclaimed.

"sorry dad! see you!". you said still running to max's car.

max took out his car keys and opened the door of his porsche for you. you sat on the front passenger seat and, a few seconds later, he joined you, sitting on the driver's seat.

"i swear the adrenaline rush i've got it's better than when i race". he said chuckling and afterwards he started the engine of the car.

the city lights let you appreciate the ocean blue in his eyes. max focused on the road ahead, but his smile didn't fade. he was attractive. hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the road, you could sense the confidence on his driving and somehow you felt safe.

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taglist: @cha-hot @carlandonorri-s @raizelchrysanderoctavius @drunkinthemiddleoftheday @crlsummer

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lizard-queen-izzy · 2 months

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Do you ever think about the others finding little things left behind by Sasha? The original Sasha. Jon or Tim realizes they still have some of her hair ties. Martin realizes he never returned that pen he borrowed. Little things. Things that don't mean anything to anyone but them, but to them they mean the world. Because it was hers. It proves she really did exist and they knew her and they aren't mourning a phantom.

"Who am I even sad for?" Is a line that I think hits as hard as it does because who is he sad for? Surely not the thing who posed as his friend for a year while he didn't know. Not for himself, because how could he extend that grief to himself? And it feels. Wrong, somehow, to mourn the original Sasha. Because he can't even remember her face. He can't remember her. But he lost her all the same. So who does he grieve?

Jon refuses to accept it as absolute. He keeps asking about it. Is she gone? Is there no way to bring her back? Is there nothing that can be done to fix this? And there's not. For all his questions, all his begging and searching, even the more he learns about the fears and how they work. Nothing is ever going to be enough to bring her back. Nothing fixes this. She's gone. And he can't bring her back.

#the magnus archives #tma #jon sims #jonathan sims #tim stoker #timothy stoker #sasha james #not sasha #imagine it though #mourning a face you cant remember #looking back on memories to only find a hazy shadow #or pictures of someone you know isnt her #angst

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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yule shoot your eye out // lance stroll

summary: it was supposed to be a relaxing getaway. instead, a snowstorm traps y/n ocon and lance stroll inside the mount tremblant cabin they had rented, and strands esteban and his girlfriend at the airport. so until the snow melts, she's trapped with her brother's best friend, and forced to reckon with her feelings.

pairing: lance stroll x female ocon! reader ( forced proximity, brother's best friend )

warnings: sexual tension, smut scene that really does nothing for the plot but i wanted to put it in there anyways, super brief mention of masturbation (one sentence), drinking, discussion of kinks (or lack thereof because y/n is like me and needs to constantly know she's loved and desires closeness and intimacy-), mentions of poor mental health, half-assed love confessions where they somehow both know exactly what the other was going to say, esteban walks in on lance and y/n making out on the couch. i use too many romance tropes.

mount tremblant, quebec.

y/n ocon had never seen snow this bad. and she considered herself a country girl through and through. or at least, as close to the countryside as one could get in normandy. she drove at a cautious pace, a sharp detour from the way that she normally drove, in an attempt to keep control over the rented toyota.

"lance, i can't even see three feet ahead of me." she huffed, phone resting in the cupholder at the highest volume. lance stroll, her brother's best friend of over a decade was on the other end of the line, chuckling to himself as he tried to calm the girl down.

"calm down, y/n. you should be almost there, if the find my friends app is working the way that it should."

"that doesn't instill me with a lot of confidence, sir lancelot." she rolled her eyes, taking a turn far too cautiously for it to have been safe if there were any other cars on the road.

it's not her fault she's never experienced a proper canadian winter.

"just take one more right turn, you're almost there. do you not see the road signs?"

"i can't see through the fucking snow! i don't understand why we decided to come up here instead of going down to dallas with mick."

"you're the one who wanted a proper winter getaway."

"i meant the swiss alps!"

lance laughed down the phone before redirecting the conversation. "okay, i can see your headlights, you're at the bottom of the driveway. give me like, ten minutes and i'll meet you in front of the cabin. why are you using your windshield wipers to fend off the snowflakes?"

the aston martin driver did nothing to hide the laughter in his voice.

"fuck off, stroll."

lance tried to stop laughing, but y/n could still hear the joking tone in his voice. "just park near the top of the driveway, i'll come out and help you with your stuff."

"you're an angel, lance. and when i say 'angel' i mean the fucker from buffy the vampire slayer."

"duly noted." the canadian laughs, tugging on his parka before stepping out of the cabin and making his way down the steps. "where's your brother?"

"we weren't on the same flight. no, dear old estie decided not to come and visit if we were all going up to the cabin together." she rolled her eyes as she hung up the phone, watching as lance braved the snow, stumbling towards the rental car.

y/n had been studying at the university of manchester for the last two years and was almost done her program. staying in continental europe had allowed her to stay close to her family, and kept her close to racing, which had always been her passion. she was studying mechanical engineering, with a student placement at carlin. of course, her ultimate goal was to be the first female race engineer in formula one, and being able to get in at alpine wouldn't hurt.

esteban and elena would be flying out of paris, but their flight was supposed to leave an hour ago and she hadn't heard anything. no confirmation that esteban had boarded the plane, no word on any delays.

she tried not to think about it as she stepped out of the car, the hood on her puffy white jacket pulled up against the harsh wind. "let me give you a hand."

lance shook his head. "you've been driving for hours, and your flight was what, six hours long? no, i am carrying your bags."

"at least let me take the suitcase, it's heavy." she insisted, although there was a fuzzy feeling in her stomach at the stroll boy's enthusiasm to help her out.

lance had always been a sweetheart, and she'd be lying if she said that in the last three years, she hadn't felt warm and fuzzy around the aston martin driver. he always went out of his way to make her feel comfortable and included, make her laugh when she felt down. when she had been having a hard time at university, lance had come up to visit her when esteban couldn't, or when she didn't want to worry her parents.

she'd be lying if she said that picturing lance stroll in her bed was the only thing that got her off when her hand was between her thighs. that the reason she was probably still single was because she never made it past a second or third date because she kept comparing every single suitor to her brother's best friend.

"absolutely not." lance insisted. "but you can take the backpack."

"all the backpack has in it is books, a travel pillow and a fucking water bottle. come on, i feel bad." y/n insisted, making grabby hands towards her hard-scheel suitcase, backpack slung over one shoulder. "lance."

"y/n. stop arguing with me, it's cold out here. let me help you."

"fine." the ocon girl caved, locking the car and trudging her way up to the front steps of the rented vrbo cabin.

the two stumbled inside, dropping bags in the foyer and stripping out of snow-covered winter coats.

lance would be lying if he said that his line of sight wasn't immediately drawn to the tight holly-green sweater that y/n was wearing, and the way it made her curves look perfect in the warm led lights.

"i haven't heard anything from esteban since i left manchester. has he called you at all?"

"i'm sure you're overthinking, y/n." lance tried to placate the girl in front of him. "he'd call if anything was wrong. i haven't heard from chloe and scotty either."

y/n laughed, slumping down on the faux leather couch. the cabin was cozy: all cedar wood and plaid accents, shockingly Canadian in the sense of décor. fairy lights hung from exposed timbers and she tried to allow herself to relax, tucking her feet underneath a thick plaid blanket.

"i guess that's typical younger sibling bullshit, isn't it?"

lance laughed, taking a seat on the couch next to the young woman. it was all he could do to keep a respectful distance, knowing that if he was any closer, he'd probably do something stupid.

like kiss her.

"i'm sure our siblings are fine." lance reassured, thinking about his own sister and her fiancée.

"hold that thought." y/n said, sitting up straighter as her phone began to ring, esteban's name flashing across the screen. "estie? where are you?"

"we're still in paris. our flight just got cancelled because of the storm. the airline moved us to a flight two days from now, so we're going to stay down the road from the airport." esteban sounded exhausted, his voice far off as it flooded through the small speakers at the base of her iphone. "they said they'd call if anything changed. did you land okay?"

"the flight was rocky, but i made it in one piece. lance and i are at the cabin now. there's still nothing from chloe and scotty."

"putain. listen, as long as you're with lance, you're safe from the storm. just hang tight and i'll call when i have more news."

"okay. estie? stay safe. i love you."

"love you too." the phone began to crackle, her brother's next words getting lost somewhere between phone lines.

"esteban? esteban?" the three beeps from her phone indicated that the lines had gone down, the simple 'no service' icon appearing in the top right hand corner.

y/n groaned, leaning further back against the couch, knees drawn into her chest as she dropped her phone on the cushions. "the lines are down."

she knew what this all meant. she was stuck in a log cabin with lance stroll and every fond feeling that she had ever harboured for the aston martin driver. she'd either lose her mind or do something freakishly stupid.

"is esteban all right?" lance asked quietly, gingerly moving closer on the couch. y/n took that as a cue, falling straight into his arms, resting her head on his shoulder. breathing in his cologne.

she'd always loved that fucking cologne.

she sighed, closing her eyes. "his flight got cancelled. they're trying to get him on a flight in a few days, but he's not exactly hopeful. it's a miracle that i got here alive, if i'm being frank."

"it's not all bad. we may not have cell signal, but we do have heating, and there's a fridge full of food and wine. a dvd player and a stack of christmas movies."

"alcohol sounds great right about now." y/n agreed, pulling the blanket further over her body.

"red wine or white?" lance asked, getting to his feet and crossing over to the kitchen. "i've also got my mom's sugar cookies."

"red, please. and bring the cookies. tell claire-anne i think she's a bloody legend."

the canadian laughed, popping the cork as he switched on the small radio on the counter, oldies christmas music flooding the open concept main floor, elvis crooning about how he'd have a blue christmas without the one he loved.

me fucking too, mr. presley.

"don't worry, she already knows." lance beamed, coming back to the living room with two wine glasses and a tin of cookies shaped like christmas trees. "have you been doing all right lately? i never felt right about heading back home after that one weekend."

the french girl knew what weekend lance was talking about. she had been in a bad place that entire week, and esteban was worried about her. he was too busy with sponsorship events and couldn't catch a flight out of france soon enough, so he had called lance. the strolls had been at silverstone that week running simulator time at the aston martin factory. lance had driven the four hours from towcester to manchester, and had stayed with her all weekend. as soon as lance came inside the apartment, she had broken down crying in lance's arms. all she had been able to say at the time had been 'i want my mom', repeating it in both english and french while lance held her, whispering that everything would be okay.

"they've been getting better. the semester ended and think the break has done wonders for me. winter semester starts up in january, and my schedule is a little lighter. i'll be working with carlin again, so once the season starts, hopefully i'll be able to get out a little bit more. i'm supposed to be back at the factory three times a week after christmas." y/n started, taking a sip of her wine, still curled up in a blanket. "i'm thinking about getting a rabbit or something. just so i'm not alone in the apartment all the time."

lance nodded along. "that might be nice. how many years do you have left?"

"two years. stephanie carlin is actually really excited about signing me on full time. just as a junior engineer, not a race engineer, but one day i'll get there."

"i have full faith. you'll be coming for brad's job in no time."

y/n laughed, the sound bordering on a snort. "what, so you can tell me that you know the car is already on fire, or that i don't know that the 'pit confirm' and 'ok' buttons are the same thing?"

"you love listening to me and brad and you know it. you think it's charming."

she raised her eyebrows, taking another sip of her wine. "charming isn't exactly the word that i would use."

the duo didn't realize how fast time would fly. conversation flowed comfortably, the wine bottle already halfway empty, the tin of cookies now reduced to a few small crumbs at the bottom of the metal container. they were now sharing a blanket, their legs resting on top of each other.

"this is going to sound completely absurd, but i need to know." lance laughed.

"it's twenty questions. nothing is too absurd." y/n laughed back. "hit me with your best shot, pat benatar."

lance cocked an eyebrow "are you wine drunk?"

"maybe." she giggled, taking another sip. "was that your absurd question?"

"no, not at all. this is: what are you into? like, in bed? because i walked in on your brother and elena once right before a press conference, and i cannot unsee that shit.”

“try hearing him through the walls. our house was small as hell, lance. imagine hearing your older brother have an orgasm. it’s traumatizing.”

“come on, you have to be into something. stop avoiding the question.”

“lance stroll, you don’t ask a woman about her kinks before a first date!”

“what are you hiding?”

“I’m not hiding anything!” she managed to say through laughter. “really, I’m not. I don’t have any kinks.”

lance raised an eyebrow. “everybody has at least one, come on now.”

“really, I don’t. my roommate in freshman year made me take an online bdsm test, and it came back a hundred percent vanilla.”

“a kink is anything that turns you on during sex, y/n. there has to be something.”

y/n rolled her eyes, staring at her almost empty wineglass. “there is not enough red wine in the world for this conversation.” she reached towards the coffee table, pouring the last dregs of the deep red liquid into her glass.

lance looked at her intently. “now I’m curious. what secrets is little miss perfect hiding?”

“I suppose if I had to pick something, because you seem so desperate to embarrass me today,” she rolled her eyes dramatically. “I would say that my kink is romance. some girls want to give up control and have someone tell them what to do during sex, or be tied up and shit, and that's perfectly fine, for them, but I just want to be loved and cared for. I want grand gestures and rose petals and hand holding. I want to be called sweetheart, and darling, and pretty girl.”

lance raised his eyebrow again. god, he shouldn’t look that good when he looks at me like that, she thinks to herself. “that’s it? that’s what you’re so ashamed of?”

“grand romantic notions get you nowhere in the real world. I know that men are going to get bored with me real quick that way.”

“I wouldn’t.”

her heart stopped beating for a fraction of a second, her breath caught in her throat. it’s the alcohol talking, she tried to tell herself. there’s no way he just said what he said.

“I’d call you ‘pretty girl’ all night long, fuck you as tenderly and lovingly as you wanted, and I’d hold your hand the entire time, as long as you wanted me to.”

she couldn’t form a proper response. her mouth had gone dry. she stared at the beautiful man across from her, blinking rapidly as she tried to comprehend what was happening.

“uhm, y/n? hello…earth to y/n?” lance said, confusion in his voice as he looked at her. “are you okay? I think your brain kind short circuited there-“

she cut him off by planting her lips on his, practically jumping into his lap. the driver gasped in surprise before gripping her hips and holding her close. her hands flew up to cradle lances face, moaning into his mouth at the rush of sensations, the buzz that she felt throughout every nerve ending in her body.

she was kissing lance stroll.

“that’s my pretty girl.” he mumbled between kisses, pulling the blankets around their bodies.

at the sound of the pet name spilling from the canadians lips, the lips she had dreamt would someday be spilling that same praise for her in a much more intimate context, she thought she would crumble under his touch, moaning faintly as she tried to press herself up against him. she was sitting on his lap now, legs hanging off the side of the couch and lips against his, her fingertips dragging through his hair as he gripped her thigh tightly.

“lance…” she breathed heavily, the french accent in her voice wavering as the driver began to press sloppy, open mouthed kisses to her neck. “lance, baby, please don’t stop.”

lance grinned against her skin. he wanted this as much as she did, if not more. “anything for my pretty girl.”

the driver leaned back on the couch, pulling y/n's body flush against his, sliding his warm hands up the back of her sweater. she shivered under his touch, only spurring him on more.

until the lights went out with a high pitched beeping sound, the entire cabin plunged into darkness as the battery-operated radio continued to eerily play 'baby it's cold outside' as y/n jumped, tripping over lance's legs as she slid off the couch.

"jesus christ" she groaned, leaning back against the couch, the floor a piercing cold through her jeans. "what happened to the lights? even the fucking string lights are out."

"shit. the storm must have taken the power lines out." lance groaned, pulling the blanket over his lap to hide the growing tent in his jeans. "so now we have no cell phone signal, and no power."

"fucking hell." she mumbled, getting to her feet. "and no power also means no heat. esteban and elena are going to find our frozen corpses huddled for warmth in front of the fireplace."

"you're so overdramatic." lance laughed, getting up from the couch and reaching out to stop y/n from picking up the empty wine glasses. "sit down, y/n. let me handle this, pretty girl."

he said it with a grin and a wink, an overall sense of cheekiness that sent shivers down y/n's spine. she was still struggling to comprehend what had just happened.

she had made out with lance stroll, and she was about ninety eight percent certain that he enjoyed it, if the tent in his jeans was anything to go off of.

"do you have any candles or anything?"

three hours later.

the power still hadn't come back on. neither had the heat, and the fireplace couldn't warm an entire cabin. a cabin intended for six that was currently only occupied by two. a bath and body works candle that smelled scarily like a christmas tree sat on the dresser, dimly lighting up a small circle against the wall that allowed her to see just enough to pull on her plaid victoria's secret pajamas. but the flannel fabric wasn't nearly warm enough for a cabin that was rapidly losing heat.

a shiver wracked her body, goosebumps sprouting all along the hairs on her arms as she reached for the plush blanket at the foot of the bed, draping it around her body before blowing the candle out and edging the door open.

she crossed the hallway, her hands shaking from the temperature drop as she knocked on the door. she could feel heat from inside the room, indicating that lance had somehow managed to get the old woodstove in the corner working.

she hadn't bothered to try with the one in her room.

"lancelot?" she said quietly, playing into the nickname she had always used for him. "can i come in?"

the door creaked open. a loud sound against the rusted hinges. nothing wd-40 couldn't fix. "is everything okay, y/n?" lance asked, a confused and concerned look on his face.

"i'm fucking freezing. and you managed to get a woodstove to work." she shrugged, laughing softly as she gestured at the blanket she was wrapped in.

lance opened the door wider. "come on in. i've got piles of blankets, and probably some body heat."

"how reassuring." she said sarcastically, crossing the threshold into lance's room. crossing a line that could never be uncrossed as she dropped the blanket, tucking herself into the left-hand side of the bed. lance followed shortly after, draping himself over her, his arms securely around her stomach as they spooned.

"lance?" she said softly, as they lay there in the quiet and the dark. "i'm in love with you."

lance inhaled, and she could feel his entire body shudder behind her as he leaned in the whisper in her ear, his breath hot on her skin. "i've been in love with you almost since i first saw you. when my dad was first thinking about buying force india and we walked in the garage and you were there arguing with otmar in that cute little top with the bell sleeves, insisting that you knew more than the team fucking principal." he laughed, his chest rumbling against her back. "you were such a little firecracker, you know."

"and i was on a gap year as well. i took time off to help my dad with the garage. god, i thought i knew so much. i wasn't even in university yet."

"otmar followed your strategy calls that race, you know. he was unsure at first, but he got on the phone with vijay and vijay told him to go for it."

"i know. otmar told esteban afterwards, told him to give me a fucking pandora gift card."

lance laughed, trying to hide a yawn. "sounds about right. get some rest, pretty girl. see you in the morning."

eight hours later.

the room was still dark when y/n ocon woke up. she could still hear the howl of the wind outside, but the room still felt cold, the piles and piles of blankets still pulled over her shoulders. she rolled over, eyes still closed as she nuzzled into lance's chest. the aston driver groaned, one of his hands slipping down her back to cup her ass gently.

"mornin' beautiful." his voice was husky and seductive as he leaned in to kiss her.

"good morning, handsome." she said softly, her face breaking into a smile as she kissed him.

their lips moved in tandem, the air punctuated with soft giggles and wide smiles as she threw her leg over lance's thigh, trying to pull him as close as she could as he playfully smacked her ass, rolling the pair over so that he was on top.

her hands slipped up the back of his heather grey t-shirt, sliding the fabric over his head while the canadian trailed kisses down her neck, the stubble on his chin grazing the delicate skin. she moaned underneath him before he pulled away briefly to get the shirt the rest of the way off his body, casting it aside before kissing her again. her arms came up to loop around his neck, his fingers dancing across her stomach as he slowly undid the buttons on her pajama top.

"lance," she breathed. "is that. . . "

"my hard cock against your thigh?" lance winked with a sly grin. "you bet. see how turned on you make me, pretty girl? if you had said something sooner, we could have been doing this for years now. maybe i'd have even managed to put a ring on your finger."

"i guess we'd better make up for lost time, then." she grinned, helping lance take off the remainder of her flannel shirt before urging lance's head towards her rapidly hardening nipples.

"you're so beautiful, darling." he crooned, kissing and caressing as much of y/n's body as she could, her fingernails lightly digging into his upper back as he swirled his tongue over her breast.

they easily could have wasted the morning away like that. in lance's arms, y/n felt safe and secure. she felt loved, and it all felt right. something that her mother said to her when she was eighteen stuck out in her mind: when you know, you'll know.

and as she and lance shed their flannel pajama pants, his arms around her, his hands in hers as he began to thrust into her, she knew.

but she had a feeling that she had known for a lot longer than that.

"that's it, pretty girl." lance groaned, thrusting deeper and drawing a loud moan from the girl underneath him. "tell me how good i make you feel, hey? i want to know that you feel just as good as i do right now."

"yes, god, yes." she whined, eyelids fluttering shut as she watched lance bring her knuckles up to his mouth, pressing kisses to each knuckle before trailing the kisses down her arm until he reached her neck, the pace of his hips never faltering. “oh, lance, you feel incredible, love.”

"yeah? yeah, you look so pretty like this, beautiful. my pretty girl."

"oh, god! i think i-"

"are you going to come for me, pretty girl? i've got you, baby, you're safe, let go for me. milk this cock."

"oh, lance!"

as they were laying together, a tangled mass of limbs and hair, fingers still pressed to skin, sweaty bodies pressed up against one another, the power came back on, dim lights filling the bedroom as lance kissed her gently.

"i love you, y/n."

she smiled. "je t'aime aussi, lance."

four hours later.

they'd wasted the day away in the shower (having more incredible sex while they were at it), cooking together and watching christmas movies on the vhs player in the cabin's living room ("who even uses vhs tapes any more!" "people who live in cottages, babe!")

as the end credits to 'deck the halls' played on the big screen, lance and y/n softly made out in the dim light of the string lights hanging from the ceiling, curtains still pulled shut.

neither of them heard the door creak open, but they all heard esteban ocon's disgusted shout.

"what the fuck!"

"esteban, i can explain." y/n tried to reason with her brother, aware that lance's hands were in a very compromising position on her body

the alpine driver stood in the middle of the living room, snowflakes melting on his parka as he blinked, trying to make sense of why his sister and his best friend were heavily making out on the sofa.

"are those hickeys on your neck? y/n ocon-khelfane!"

"lance!" she hissed, looking over at the boy. "really? how old are you, seventeen?"

"you didn't notice when you got out of the shower?" the driver asked, trying to avoid making eye contact with esteban. "i thought you said his flight was delayed two days!"

elena shrugged. she had been standing behind her boyfriend, making the conscious choice not to get involved. "we got an earlier flight last minute. we did try to call."

"phone lines are down." y/n said apologetically. "power was out all last night, too."

"and i bet lance kept you warm, didn't he?" esteban glared at lance, ready to destroy their friendship to protect his baby sister's honor. "you have until the count or three, strulovich."

lance's eyes widened. "count fo three for what?"

"one."

"lance, run."

"he's my best friend, he's not going to hurt me. estie, come on!" lance laughed nervously. "let's talk this out."

"two."

"i think she's right." elena piped up. "you can talk it out later."

"three."

lance was off the couch in a flash. "okay, running now!"

they did, in fact, talk it out later.

but not before they wrestled each other and esteban made lance swear not to break y/n's heart.

Tags: @magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @daydreamingleclerc @flannel-cures @sidcrosbyspuck

#lance stroll #lance stroll x y/n #lance stroll x reader #formula one x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #aston martin f1 #the christmas collection 2022 #Spotify

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mamahersh · 1 year

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Mamahersh’s Post-MAG-200 Fanfic Recommendation Mega Thread

@a-mag-a-day

In celebration of us finishing The Magnus Archives (even if I admittedly fell off around S2 and have been mostly lurking since then), I have compiled all of my fave post series fics for your enjoyment! I will be grouping them in some big, general categories, which I’ll list above the read more here. Depending on the size of this post, it might start looking a bit like that “Do you like the sky?” post But I can assure you that I have read all of these and can give them my stamp of approval!

If you finished the series and were wishing for your best boys to finally be happy, then boy howdy do I have some fanfiction for you!

Time Travel

Somewhere Else

AUs

Uncategorized JonMartin Fluff

By these categories, we should hopefully cover all the recommendations I have, and I hope you all find some new fics! (or enjoy rereading fics you haven’t enjoyed in awhile)

TIME TRAVEL

where there’s a will, we make a way by bubonickitten

"So, what does happen if an Eye learns to See within itself?

What happens is this: the Archive Beholds the Watcher – and the Watcher blinks first."

________________________

Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.

Probably my fave time travel fic in this fandom hands down; it is also currently the longest whilst still unfinished. While I try not to recommend unfinished fics that I am uncertain of their return to activity, this is a big exception and personally I love everything about it! It’s got Jon dealing with trauma through the lens of his speaking only in Statements, Martin being saved from his downward spiral into the Lonely way earlier in S4, Georgie actually sticking around, Basira having a better grasp of the situation and being more understanding about it, and everyone generally sticking close to character while managing to buck parts of the narrative. I cannot recommend this fic enough, and I very likely already did back near the start of S5.

Something’s Different About You Lately by thesnadger

Jonathan Sims has been head archivist for just a few months, but he has memories of holding the position for years. He remembers monsters, and darkness, and the end of the world. Somehow, he'll have to keep everyone safe from what's coming. Meanwhile, his assistants can't understand why their prickly jerk of a boss has gone sappy all of a sudden.

So TMA time travel fics that focus on Jon going back tend to come in two varieties. There’s the “Jon’s mind goes back and replaces himself/inhabits his past self’s body” and then there’s the “Jon physically goes back so there’s two Jons”. The first two on this list are of the first variety, and if I remember right this was one of the first I ever read. However, I recommend this one specifically because this has an amazing ending. Like, it might just be me, but many of the endings in these feel relatively unsatisfying because there’s magically a third option where Jon comes out unscathed while saving his S1 archives crew from the Horrors. For whatever reason, it was incredibly satisfying having a fic that didn’t shy away from the options presented in S4 and S5 and I love how they characterize everyone in this one as well.

100 Seconds to Midnight by starspangledbread

Jon and Martin find themselves back in 2011 after attempting to release the fears from their reality. The world is the same one they left behind, but now something has come back with them. They have a chance to destroy the fears once and for all, but it proves harder than expected. Who knew that the best laid plans could be thwarted by nosy co-workers, office romance, the inevitable learning curve of being a time traveler turned grifter, and the refusal to believe in subtlety?

Did someone say Extinction!Jon? This also is a part of a series, though the true sequel to this one is currently unfinished (though it should eventually be completed and only has one chapter to go). An excellent romp, I definitely recommend if you’re looking for something kinda dark, some comedy, a little OOC, and Martin being able to embrace his crime side in the name of saving the world.

Yesterday is Here by CirrusGrey

"Who the hell are you?" Jon could feel his hands shaking. The man laughed, taking a step forward and raising a hand to point at him. "I'm you, from the future!" he said, then swayed, eyes going unfocused, and collapsed to the floor in a dead faint. -------- Post-season-four Jon and Martin time travel back to the season one Archives.

Written by my fave (and most prolific) JMart author, we have a perfect example of the other kind of time travel fix it fic in the form of Jon physically travelling to the past to try and save the world. As expected by someone I am calling my fave JMart author, we’re going to be getting double dose on the JMart. I highly recommend if you’re looking for something that starts a little bittersweet, but then ends in copious amounts of fluff.

Reverb (Series) by Wolftraps

Undoing the apocalypse would have been enough for Jon, if all his people survived. Without them, Jon's only recourse is making it so it never happened in the first place. He's going to do better this time.

Summary from the first fic in the Reverb series, I highly recommend the first two fics in this series for different reasons. “The Reverb in These Holy Halls” is a great time travel fic that takes some really interesting turns by the end and unlike most fics actually has Jon try to keep Tim safe by keeping him out of the Archives pre-S1. However “Gossip” I recommend if you enjoy those fics formatted to look like official communication of some kind. It’s got people outside the Archives trying to figure out what’s wrong with them during the events of the first fic, and while it would be very confusing to read without the first fic, I’d almost say it’s worth it if you aren’t feeling the tags on the first one. Really fun and entertaining, you can’t go wrong with either one.

The Triumph of Galatea (for Acis is transformed) by TheOestofOCs

Statement of Hazel Rutter.

Jon couldn’t stop reading.

The Fears, however, are a bit more powerful than Jonah gave them credit for. Jon opens the door, but the world can’t hold what’s on the other side.

Time falls through, instead. Past becomes present, and the future is undone.

Statement begins.

Another fic I definitely recommended back at episode 160, but is well worth the second recommendation and/or re-read. Time Travel, but what if Jon could control as well as go into the dreams of the assistants/other Eye aligned people instead of just his victims’ dreams? Very good, even if unfinished, though the author seems likely to finish someday. Check out their other work as well, it’s all very good and has my fave Circus themed fic written to date.

a map of what matters most by gruhukens

“Is that a body,” Tim blurts before he can stop himself, rising to his feet. Martin looks, if possible, even more scared.

“He’s alive!” he hisses, almost defensively. “It’s not - it’s not Gertrude again, I didn’t kill him, he just – I don’t know what happened to him, I just found him in the stacks like this.”

“And you dragged him up here?” Tim says, and then registers several things at once – the build, the hair texture; the little round scars peppering a pair of thin hands and an awfully familiar face. “Wait, is that Jon?”

----

Jon stumbles back into an earlier Archive, looking for a way to fix the world. (Or, mom says it's my turn for the obligatory time travel au)

Directly inspired by CirrusGrey’s fic that I recommended earlier, this is another: Jon travels physically into the past fic. This one though is far more bittersweet than “Yesterday is Here”, but still an excellent read and does a great job at fleshing out the relationships between all the characters.

Saving the Universe: For Dummies by GhostChoir

Finding a man bleeding out in the alleyway was not what Elias wanted to do today. And he certainly didn’t mean to befriend him. But things never did go how he expected.

****** A Post-MAG200 Jon meets a 1970s Elias, an Elias from before he was corrupted by Jonah. Together, the two of them learn to cope with grief, drink more tea than any two people should be able to consume, and commiserate over shitty bosses. Oh, and just for the hell of it, they stop an apocalypse along the way.

Now for a change of pace: What if Jon time travels to the time of early Gertrude and Elias pre-Jonafying? A very good fic is what! While it’s been awhile since I read this, I do remember it’s quite good and deserves a chance. Note: this is NOT Jonathan/Elias, so my apologies if you were looking for that, but it is two very lonely men getting to just have a reliable friend in times of trouble.

A Little Game of Cat and Mouse by Paptato

“Jonah Magnus.” The cloudy silhouette snarled as it’s hand clamped tightly around Jonah's ascot. That was indeed his name, but Jonah couldn’t begin to fathom what he did to have it spat out with such hatred.

But nonetheless, Jonah was a gentleman and he would kindly address the angry figure as politely as possible, “Yes, and you are?”

“What?” The form spluttered as it slowly came into focus. Ah, yes. That probably wasn’t the proper response to being held at gunpoint by a random stranger. Must have been the blow to his head.

(Or in which Jonathan Sims goes back in time and tries to pull a Terminator, but fails and Jonah Magnus finds a new mystery to solve.)

This is that Jonah Magnus/Jonathan Sims enemies to lovers fic your friends warn you about in a good way. It’s not done, but I think it’s still being updated very slowly. Even if all I ever read is the currently released 11 chapters, I will consider it my one exception to my dislike of Jonah/Jon. As you can probably guess by the description, it’s a time travel fix it where Jon gets shunted back in time to when Jonah was still very human and still trying to figure out the Fears. The Web keeps Jon from explaining his circumstances or anything to do with Jonah’s future in particular, but this is a good thing and they both get to learn how to be more human in a world that previously was very antagonistic to those goals. It’s got a heavy dose of comedy, plenty of romantic tension, and lots of both surprising and unsurprising cameos. If you enjoy Dracula Daily, you’ll probably enjoy this imho.

Déjà Vu by CirrusGrey

Sasha remembers being unmade. Tim remembers being Unknown. Jon and Martin remember being unwound. All of them think they're the only one. -------- The S1 crew wakes up in the past with memories up till the moment they died.

So, here’s another one that’s got quite the spin on it. As you can see from the description, this one is where S1 crew all get their minds sent back in time to the time right around Jon’s first statement if I remember right. Another CirrusGrey fic, so it heavily leans on JonMartin, but otherwise it’s a wonderful exploration of the four S1 characters and ends on a very hopeful note!

oh my darling, just a moment of your time by IceEckos12

The Institute is visited by a pair of time travelers, and Jon has an important question for Tim.

Have you ever had a oneshot that just kinda guts you unexpectedly? While this might not do this for everyone, this is an amazing oneshot that gets right the point. I love it a lot, because of all of the fics where future and past meet each other, it very rarely if ever is addressed that past Jon was a douche. Or well it is but past Jon doesn’t necessarily have a character moment from it. Here he does, and despite the briefness of the fic, the author does an amazing job of giving Jon and Tim a moment while making an almost critique of the TMA time travel genre. Highly, highly recommend, and it won’t overstay it’s welcome if it doesn’t end up being your thing.

The Severing of Webs by chlodobird

After Jon kills the world, he travels back in time. Once there, he gets ready to change the future, to save his Assistants, and to watch as everyone learns to hate him again.

Unfortunately, the tapes wrap around him like a fly caught in a Web—he can't move. He's trapped reliving the original timeline, stuck acting out his past actions like an actor rehearsing his lines.

Sasha will die. Tim will die. Martin—

(Jon screams inside his mind, and someone hears him. Fate is not as immutable as he fears.)

This one is a brand new one! While basically all of the others on the list have been out/updating for over a year at this point; this lengthy oneshot just released this month. tbh, very excellent, which is why it has made the list. Also, quite the twist on the usual premise, where being sent back into his head is actually a bad thing this time. Ends with a giant pile of fluff, but who would I be if all my time travel recommendations were not also fix-its?

Somewhere Else

it will be this, always by bluejayblueskies

Jon coughed again, and blood stained his lips and blood stained Martin’s hands where they pressed against Jon’s back and blood stained the floor beneath them and help, they needed help.

Martin doesn’t remember shouting. He barely remembers the faces that had surrounded them, wide-eyed and terrified, all utterly unfamiliar.

Jon and Martin wake up somewhere else. Jon begins a slow path toward physical recovery, and several important, long-put-off conversations are had as they begin to navigate a new world that they hadn’t thought they’d be alive to see.

So, I’m sure you all have gathered that I have qualms with how much disparity there is between canon and fanon Jmart. This fic is painful, but is the most in character depiction of post 200 JMart fallout I have ever read. The ending is very cathartic, and takes a “realistic” approach to what happens to Jon and Martin as they begin to navigate their relationship after they both had betrayed each other so thoroughly in the leadup and culmination of MAG 200. If you don’t want them immediately making up, this is the fic for you. They get there, but by all that is good do they take their sweet time getting there.

Out There, Somewhere by Artyphex

"I'm sorry, you were found alone."

Jon survived the apocalypse and now will go to the end of this new, unfamiliar world to find Martin again.

So I think I’m just getting all the angsty ones out of the way first lol. Another slow burn, this fic is Jon’s recovery in the new reality while he also searches for what happened to Martin. Since I don’t post the tags, I will say this ones does feature “Eventual Happy Ending”, and I do promise that both Jon and Martin made it to the new reality and lived. But Jon and Martin both get to pine and cope for a while before that happy ending tag comes into play. It’s incredibly well done and explores their characters really well. Personally, I kinda enjoyed the Reddit saga because people mistaking Jon’s pleas for Martin as an ARG is very typical internet and 100% I would have bought into that at age 13.

Of course I need a therapist. I need ten therapists, working round the clock building me a bionic coping mechanism. We have the technology. by MartinKBlackwoodESQ

A story set somewhere else.

I’mma be real with you all, if I believed that characters could write and publish their own fanfiction, I would be halfway convinced the name is accurate. All joking aside however, this is a “crack treated seriously” fic but with characterization so on point I can consistently hear the voice actors when I read this. Admittedly, it’s made easier by it being written in transcript formatting, but if you’re looking for a hilarious time where TMA is suddenly is turned into a buddy cop adventure where Jon and Martin go to a universe where the Fears hadn’t been till their arrival, and they have doubles that already exist there who are living fairly normal lives till the TMA Jon and Martin crash land into their reality... Well this fic is one I cannot recommend highly enough. It also has a sequel, and it is also well worth the read, even if it appears to be on a bit of a break in it’s updates.

Worlds like phyllo pastry by neworld

After episode 200 Jon finds himself alone in a world very much like the one he left but fractionally different. It's so similar he finds versions of his former friends existing happily in the world. Unfortunately they have never met him in this universe and have no idea who he is.

This one’s unfinished, but personally it’s well worth the read as is. Not sure how I feel about the most recent chapter, but the story up till that point is a really fun spin on “Jon and Martin get shunted to a new reality” where Jon learns how to feed in a way that doesn’t cause problems facilitated by the new reality, and re-meets all the people who he lost till this point and has a very silly antagonistic relationship with his alternate self. While fic might be more of a guilty pleasure, it still is written in such a way that I would rank it high enough for this disorganized list.

Death Is The Easy Way Out by traveller19

After having killed Jonah Magnus and ended the Change, Jon and Martin should finally be able to rest. Rest, however, proves impossible when Jon falls ill. What's more, he begins having vivid dreams of their dead friends - Tim, trapped in the destroyed Archives, and Sasha, trapped outside of them. As Jon's condition quickly worsens and the line between dream and reality begins to blur, love is all he and Martin have to hold on to, because hope is a dangerous thing.

Did someone say sickfic??? But for real, this fic has an amazing balance between an A plot and a B plot, and keeps both at the right level of tension throughout. While this is a sickfic heavy one, it also features Tim and Sasha as ghosts trying desperately not to be. There’s also a lovely sequel and plenty of fluff by the end, but this is a rough ride. ALSO, if you or a loved one had covid / any respiratory illness that caused them to be hospitalized with pneumonia and it could be trigging to read incredibly on the nose descriptions of that experience, this fic is not for you. Or very cathartic. :/

Castaways by CirrusGrey

Welcome to the Castaway Foundation, a nonprofit organization dedicated to providing a safe and secure landing to those lost souls banished from their home worlds by the influence of Fear.

If you wanted saccharine JMart in a new reality where they get therapy and meet old friends from different realities, this series of (mostly) one shots is for you! As you’ve probably come to expect when I suggest CirrusGrey, the writing is fantastic, the ship dynamics are exemplary, and the character are on point. There is so much to say about this series, but mostly, if you want Jon and Martin healing and then settling together and becoming the stereotypical married couple, then this is it. It’s not done, but it is wrapping up, and I hope you all if you haven’t seen this yet enjoy it as much as I do. And for those long time readers who have been reading it longer than I’ve been in the fandom, here’s your friendly reminder that it exists.

Do Before I Die by SupposedToBeWriting

Somewhere Else, Jon can't seem to shake the strange apathy that now plagues his life. Everything reminds Martin of the end of the world. For a change of pace, he and Martin rent a campervan and go on a road trip. Their mission? To fulfill the 'bucket list' Martin made when he was eighteen and lonely. Jon's looking forward to the beach.

Jon and Martin go on a Road Trip accross Britain. It’s just a wholesome and hurt/comfort as it describes. An excellent romp, and the character studies are wonderful. The Planetarium still sticks with me.

ours is a distant shore (series) by pantsoflobster

“If they ever found out about us, we could make things really complicated for them," Jon said. Martin gave a thoughtful hum and then a loaded pause before he said, “Or simpler.” “What?” “We could, you know…” Martin then made mischievous eyes at him in lieu of expanding. “What?” Jon said, thoroughly lost. “Wouldn’t it be a bit fun to sort of... nudge them in the right direction?”

Months after they arrive Somewhere Else, Jon sees himself in the shop.

Summary is from the first fic in the series, this is a fun little romp for those who hated Martin’s defeatism over his and Jon’s relationship in MAG199 and want to see what would happen if instead he accidentally kick started an alternate version and his and Jon’s relationship Somewhere Else. It’s all very silly, tho the last fic does lean more into the hurt/comfort tag than the previous two. Over all though, if you’re looking for a little crack, a lot of fluff, and Jon and Martin being silly this is a good time.

Written in the Stars Will Have to Do by GentlemanCrow

“Yeah well, god knows why, but he thinks you hung the moon, so you might try treating him at the very least like a human being once in a while.”

It was such a small thing. Small words for a small feeling cloaked in a chintzy veneer of idiomatic dismissal. A trembling little bird cupped in his scarred and battered hands and smothered. Or so he thought. Sometimes trembling little birds turn out to be phoenixes, and those who looked to someone else to hang the comfort of a wise, silvery moon in the sky already have the hammer and the picture wire at the ready.

As far as Jon was concerned, the moon only rose on their Somewhere Else because Martin deigned to pull the strings every night, not him.

This is another one of those JMart Somewhere Else fics masquerading as a Safehouse fic that made me want to cry. It’s just, so wonderful, and once again we have themes of healing, but this time through getting a hobby and sharing it with your significant other. The writing is lovely and really gives off the stuffy academic musings I would expect being in Jon’s head (which we are for the duration of this fic) but adds a layer that I didn’t realized I needed till I read it.

On Errantry by ZaliaChimera

Somewhere Else, Jon and Martin discover that their new home has a very special sort of guardian, and Jon seeks judgement from an unexpected source.

They do say that cats purring can heal...

A cute one shot that deals with Jon’s lingering guilt from S5; this is a wonderful tale from Somewhere Else featuring a giant Cat, Martin being supportive, and Jon trying to reconcile his second chance. Very sweet and fluffy, guaranteed!

Lost, Unfound, But Not Forgotten by Elynn

They didn’t find bodies. Or anything pointing to where they may have gone. In the center of the rubble, what Georgie assumed to have once been the top of the tower, was a puddle of dried, crusted blood, and the outline of bodies in the dust and scorch marks. And she knew that wherever the Fears had gone, Jon and Martin had gone with them. The last victims, snuffed and dragged away with them. --- In the weeks after the Eye-pocolypse, Georgie Barker begins the painful process of mourning her best friend.

So, I know I’m very focused on Jon, but I have one fic of Georgie here that’s 10/10. Post 200, Georgie and Melanie eventually goes to clean out Daisy’s cabin of Jon and Martin’s things for Basira (or something like that) and Georgie finds a journal of Jon’s that he kept whilst there. It’s just as bittersweet as you’d imagine, but it’s fantastically cathartic to read and in our MAG 200 feels, this is a good one for closure.

Not Quite Somewhere Else by hawkfurze

Or you can find it on Tumblr HERE

A special entry to finish out this section, I have a long running comic from Tumblr user @hawkfurze who made a TMA x Infinity Train crossover. While I had not watched the show previously (only seen the trailer/pilot from back before it got picked up by CN), the comic is still easy to understand and explains the Infinity Train parts in such a way as to not need any prior knowledge. I highly recommend this comic for anyone who wants a visual treat delving into the relationship and psyches of Jon and Martin as they try to escape into the next reality.

AUs

Two Graves by SupposedToBeWriting

Jon sends the fears far from Earth and flees London, leaving the others to assume the worst. He settles in a small village and opts to live there quietly until he dies, a self-imposed penance. This plan is foiled when the first former Avatar shows up - and Jon realizes that every domain-keeper in the apocalypse still has some faint connection to him.

After a year of being a shoulder to cry on for confused and distraught former Avatars, Jon leads a moderately happy life. He has a flourishing garden, a cat, and some company. All of that comes crashing around his ears (or his head) when a familiar face shows up to his cabin, demanding answers.

This fic is in my top 5 fics of TMA fandom. No contest. It has some of the best healing from MAG 200 for Jon and Martin and tbh the world I’ve seen. It’s got that incredible hurt/comfort and the ending makes me cry tears of joy every time I read it. If you read any JMart fic on this list, please read this one if you can only read one. While I was tempted to put this in a different category, this seemed like the best place to put it.

What Comes After by Mornrandir

More than a year after the apocalypse, the world is starting to move on. Georgie, Melanie, and Basira have learned to move on and get back to living their lives. Then Martin reappears- without Jon- and they have to learn to begin again.

A series based around the initial above description, each entry in the series follows the healing of first Martin, then Jon, then both of them together. While I am a Jon-centric woman, if you are of a more Martin-centric leaning, this first fic in the series should scratch that itch. The final entry is very sweet, and the second definitely has a unique reason as to why Jon shows up so late to the after-Fears party.

The Watcher’s Cows by lenioia

He still remembers the first cup of tea Martin brought him. That’s where it began, not with the dog incident. A sweet and strong blend, reasons for appearance unknown, how could it taste so good, also unknown. Jon stares at what will be the last cup between them. His miserable parting gift. Where it’ll end.

Alt Mag 200, or in a slightly kinder universe which differs by exactly one cup of tea, Martin is the one who switches plan last minute, and Jon’s last half-backed scheme, for once, works.

An AU splitting off MAG 199/200, where Jon’s plan actually happens, but instead of it being quite so bleak he finds a new path with the help of Martin. I know the original ending of the series is probably the most hopeful one realistically, but we all enjoy our fixits here, so this is a really sappy “by the power of love” Jon and Martin save the universe and still get to live in it AU. Highly highly recommend, and it finished within the last 8 months, so it’s “on the newer side” as it were. If you haven’t read it, give it a shot, and if you’ve read it and it’s been awhile now’s a good time to read it again.

The Eyespot Chronicles (series) by SupposedToBeWriting

To Martin Blackwood's surprise, he wakes up in the ruins of the Magnus Institute. He thought he would be dead. The world is back to normal, the Entities are gone, and everyone realizes that it's finally over. The only sticking point is that Jon isn't exactly the Jon that went into the apocalypse. Never one to give up, Martin is determined to make a life for himself and his boyfriend. Even if he is a giant moth.

Summary taken from the first in the series, this trilogy of fics covers Jon and Martin’s attempts at healing in a world that remembers what happened. The first fic focuses entirely on Martin’s struggles, the second on Jon’s, and the 3rd (as you might guess) focuses on them both. The series is excellent, and if you’ve got the fortitude for canon-typical emotional constipation after having just experienced MAG-200 it’s well worth the read.

Another Guest for Mr. Spider by Dribbledscribbles

Jon isn't eating his statements like he should.

Mr. Spider doesn't like it.

Written in transcript format, this AU considers the idea of what if the Web was more hands on it it’s approach to getting Jon to Become more monstrous; or at least not starve himself out. Incredible read, you need an AO3 account though. But I have never been that spooked by a Statement or encounter before I read this fic. If you DO NOT like spiders on you or in your mouth and you don’t like reading about it either, potentially hold off on this fic, or at least skip from where Mr. Spider says “Open your mouth. Do not move.” to when he says “Wash it down with this. Now.” But yeah if you didn’t get enough spider trauma from canon, this fic gives it in spades! (And if you want Mr. Spider getting his comeuppance, you get that too ;) )

Illicio by ThatOneGirlBehindYou

As the new Archivist debates between life and death, the Eye ponders on what to offer him in order to avoid an encore of the unfortunate situation with his predecessor.

-----

Gerard Keay opens his eyes at what feels like fuck-ass in the morning, inside a room with far too little space and far too much dust.

A long form AU of what if Gerry Keay was brought back by the Eye to convince Jon to stay on team Monster if you will. Goes all the way through MAG-200, has some great twists and turns, and manages to turn into an “Everyone Lives AU” as well. While it is currently updating, it’s updating every week on Saturday till it finishes, and she only has 2 chapters left. If you’ve managed to never read this, now is certainly the time for it! It is Jon/Gerry/Martin, so if that’s not your exact cup of tea I’d still say give it a shot.

we should ride this wave to shore by ClarionGlass

“archives research & statement envestigation” Timothy Stoker renamed the group “drinks drinks drinks” Timothy Stoker changed Sasha James’s nickname to saucy sash Timothy Stoker changed Martin Blackwood’s nickname to martini kart Timothy Stoker changed his nickname to stonked stonked: so how bout it lads saucy sash: oh god. A TMA group chat fic where the worst problems they have to deal with start with "h" and end with "angovers"

Right, I don’t tend to read chat fics, I’m going to be honest with you all. I have two exceptions and this is one of them. It goes interesting places, the characters are not completely OOC, if it they are at least it’s consistent OOC and not in a grating way. But in all seriousness, I recommend this because of how it ties in with MAG 160 and 200; as well as how the sequel deals with canon S5. The sequel isn’t finished and is slow to update, but I am still recommending at the very least the first one. It’s a good romp and I highly recommend.

Ask an Exec: How to Navigate Cultish Colleagues, Soul-Stealing Bosses, and the End of the World at Work by shinyopals

I've recently been unexpectedly promoted to lead a department in my organisation, wrote the anonymous emailer.

As there was no one working here when I arrived, my manager, who is head of the organisation, had promised me the choice of my own assistants. However, without warning, he simply presented me with an additional assistant. This new assistant’s first act on his first day was to let a dog into the office. It took several hours to catch and clean up after this dog and it has only been downhill from there. I admit I'm not entirely sure what to do with this assistant now I'm stuck with him. I'm hoping you have some advice?

Kind regards, New Manager

Abigail Bailey runs a successful management advice blog. One frequent contributor is from a workplace with some... issues.

While this isn’t quite an AU and is basically canon compliant, I’m putting it here because it’s a “what if Jon was an avid seeker of advice on a management advice blog?” AU. It’s beautifully formatted, and features very in character interactions. If you are a sucker for the TMA trope: how do normal people react to the weirdness at the Institute, then this is a great fic for you. I know it’s probably one of the most popular things to have hit the Jonathan Sims tag on AO3 in recent months, but this is just me reminding you all it exists and well worth the re-read.

JMart Fluff

Author CirrusGrey

Literally anything by them. I think I probably recommend them every time I talk about JMart, but I think on AO3 they are both the most prolific and one of the best writers for the tag. Pick almost any fic they’ve written for TMA and it’s probably JMart. There’s too many fics of their’s to recommend, so I’ll just link you straight to their profile and you can go swimming from there lol.

Jon’s Moving Castle by IceEckos12

Martin Blackwood may not have a perfect life, but he does have a good one. That is, until a series of magical encounters leave him with an unfortunate curse. Out of other options, he goes to the wizard who lives in the moving castle for aid.

Life never goes how he intends it to, though.

Basically Howl’s Moving Castle, but with a TMA spin. You don’t need to have seen the movie to understand what’s going on, and honestly while it sticks fairly close to the movie, it doesn’t stick so close that it feels constrained by it in places where it wouldn’t make sense in the AU they’ve set up. It’s a very sweet JMart fic with a satisfying conclusion.

The 101 Kidnappings of Jonathan Sims (and Other Inconveniences) by beetlejoos

Martin Blackwood never applies for a job at the Magnus Institute. The universe seems determined that he meets Jonathan Sims anyway. But is it Fate, or something more sinister, that keeps bringing the two of them together?

Right, this mostly crack treated seriously. It’s got hurt/comfort, but it’s fairly light hearted throughout. As one could guess by the title and description, Jon is repeatedly kidnapped and brought to wherever Martin is living/working at the time. While it’s not done yet, and not on a schedule, the chapters that are out thus far are well worth the read. That and there’s some cute fan art for it that’s linked to in the end notes. But I recommend this because it’s got that vibe of S1 Jon meets S1 Martin outside of the Institute and romance (eventually) happens. Very fun read if you haven’t read it yet.

i think we’re alone now + alone-verse (series) by milliganopen

Just a couple of guys breaking into a basement. What could go wrong?

Getting trapped in your apartment with your boss, that's what.

Season 1 re-imagined if Jon and Martin had been trapped by Jane Prentiss together.

Initially I recommended this back when we had hit MAG039/022 because it was a great AU to Martin’s Statement where Jon also gets trapped in Martin’s apartment during Martin’s no good very bad 2 weeks of worm siege. HOWEVER, the author has since continued this series and is slowly working their way through canon one season/fic at a time. They’re currently on S3, and I am definitely keeping an eye on it for whenever the next update happens. If you haven’t had the time to check it out, it’s got some very good JMart moments, and their relationship manages to move faster than a glacier.

Fate, or Something by HermaeusMora

"You can't be serious." Jonathan Sims raises his eyes at last to properly look at Georgie, expecting her to laugh and make some quip about finally getting him to put the damn book down, at least.

"Well, I am," she shoots back.

He sets his book aside and turns fully towards her, betrayal clear on his face. "A blind date, really?"

Jon makes the frankly terrible decision to go on a blind date with one Martin Blackwood. Fate ensues. AU where Jon and Georgie are still friends, Georgie likes finding dates for her friends, Martin doesn't work at the institute, and everyone is just a bit happier while canon spooky stuff goes on in the background. Takes place juuust barely pre-canon in the beginning but catches up quickly. Inspired as usual by the wonderful conversations with my friend RavenXavier/somuchbetterthanthat.

A fun AU that challenges the idea that Jon and Martin are incompatible a la MAG199. Excellently done and well worth the time to check it out.

Diary by luftballoons99

Not for the first time since they ran away together, a camera reel of all the things they don't know about one another whirs behind Martin's eyes, and he can't help but look at all the sprawling magnetic tape and wonder if they’re going to wind up a romance or a tragedy.

or: Office parties, garage bands, and the joy of being known.

A bit of a bittersweet mostly fluff oneshot focused on Jon and Martin having a night in at the Safehouse and talking about good things from their pasts. (Warning, the sequel is rated E(xplicit) for a reason, so I am only recommending Diary. Both are stand alone however.)

Weaving My Heartstrings by arms_full_of_hyacinths

At least he was someone. Someone who could deal with the spiders. That was probably the source of the nerves unspooling like magnetic tape to fill Jon’s stomach with buzzing static butterflies.

Yes, Martin was much bigger than a spider. He was probably the kind of person who cupped them in his hands and talked to them as he walked them out into the garden, which shouldn’t be giving Jon a burst of warm feeling at all, since his preferred method of spider disposal was simply to squash them on sight.

Martin likes Jon almost as much as Jon hates spiders. When a statement from an institute employee sends them spiraling into the center of a complicated web, they'll need to rely on each other if they want to make it out alive.

Bit of an odd suggestion to close us out, but this one is a fun almost episodic plot about an original Statement and the shenanigans Jon and Martin get into trying to research it. It’s very good, features some very on point S1 Jon and Martin along with a bit of a fast forward on their relationship throughout.

And with that, I’ve probably overstayed my welcome lol. I hope you found something new to read! If not, I at least hope that you had fun rereading some old faves. This has taken me a day or two to compile and format, so I hope you all enjoy in whatever capacity that ends up being! Happy end of A Mag A Day, and it was a joy walking alongside you all. Congrats to A MAG A Day blog owners on all your hard work for the last ~210 days and with this post I wish you all a very fond farewell.

#a mag a day #the magnus archives #mag 200 #tma fic rec #fic rec #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #jmart #georgie #melanie

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bakersimmer · 6 months

Text

Hanna was pacing around the lobby, her movements fluid yet purposeful. Fortunately, Martin was well accustomed to this kind of behavior. His business partner, Sawyer, was precisely the same way. The constant movement seemed to be their way of processing thoughts.

Hanna: I guess Laila might not have even noticed these things about herself before. Now that you're spending much more time apart, she probably feels a bit lost because she's out of her comfort zone. Wouldn't you act a bit strange when so much is changing in your life? And it's all happening at the same time! Martin: I've considered it, but why don't I have the same fears? I'm unaware of what she does at work or who she meets, yet somehow, I don't believe she's cheating. Hanna: Aren't you even a little bit curious? Martin: Sure, I ask how her day was and all that, but I don't obsess over it. But Laila questions me about my activities multiple times a day plus during dinner and in bed. She just won't let it go. Hanna: It sounds like you trust her way more than she trusts you…I don't want to doubt you, but are you sure you haven't given her any reason not to trust you?

Martin: Honestly, I don't know anymore. I've tried my best to prove that I'm trustworthy, maybe not right at the start, but ever since. Hanna: Hmm…Maybe there's something deeper going on within her that she's not sharing. It could be something from her past. Martin: And you think I haven't asked? Hanna: Okay, you've asked her about her past, but how specific were you in your questions? Martin: I mean, isn't “I don't understand where your insecurities come from. Please explain why you feel this way. I really want to understand you” specific enough?! Hanna: You could be even more specific, but it's a good start. Have you opened up about your own past issues? Martin: (sarcastically) Never tried that...Oh, wait, I have! Hanna: Okay, stupid question...

Hanna sensed Martin's growing frustration. So she decided to share her thoughts rather than ask questions.

Hanna: It could be something so deeply unsettling that revisiting it feels like reliving a nightmare. Or maybe, it's the fear of being judged. Martin: But why would she think I'd judge her? Hanna: Because she's weird like that? Maybe she's afraid that if you know everything about her, you might see her differently or you won't find her interesting anymore. Martin: What could make me see her differently? Hanna: (shrugs) I don't know; it depends on where you have drawn the line. Would you still see her the same way if she dropped the bombshell that you're husband number six? Martin: (frowns) Maybe it will pass without poking it too much... Hanna: (chuckles) You can bury your head in the sand, but your problems won't disappear.

Hanna: A thought. Don't ask what is bothering Laila; instead, ask what you can do. Martin: What do you mean by that? Hanna: I mean, sometimes understanding isn't about asking and knowing every little detail. It's more about just being there, being supportive. Martin: I think being supportive is one of the cornerstones of a relationship. Why should I state the obvious? Hanna: (with sorrow in her voice) Well, not everyone gets it that way. And after a while, you might forget what a normal relationship actually looks like. And perhaps she's never even seen a healthy relationship before, let alone been in one.

previous / beginning / next

#MartinsESC #ts4 #ts4 story #ts4 storytelling #Martin Archer #Hanna Edwards #sims story #Escape23

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cult-of-the-eye · 6 months

Note

If you had to kill one archivas assistant, who would you pick?

Oh my god this is the worst question in the entire fucking world wow!!! I love all of them!!!!

But I'm gonna answer it from a potential for Angst kinda way and which one I'd find the most interesting.

Sasha

Well first things first she did die but we're ignoring that for the sake of this question

If everyone realised she died directly after the Jane Prentiss Attack i think it would eliminate the added layer of guilt of not noticing her being taken by the Not Them and maybe allow them each to grieve a bit more? I think if they were smacked in the face with Sasha's death, then they could communally grieve before Tim got massively resentful and maybe Jon would be distracted by the grief to fall into his paranoia as intensely and actually try to support Tim instead. I guess it's a sad world where we're choosing between one type of death for Sasha and another but here we are.

Tim:

I know that hes gonna die but I haven't gotten there yet so I'm gonna imagine what would happen if he died in the Jane Prentiss Attack instead of Sasha. Sasha wouldn't have the same resentment and fury that Tim has, I feel like she'd would be determined to avenge Tim, I think she'd be a better protagonist than Jon, which would cause him extra Jon Guilt cause he'd be like why am I the leader of this whole thing Sasha would've been so much better than meeee and Sasha would eventually be like yeah bitch get out of my way. Sasha being alive would actually solve so many problems like actually. RIP Tim though, everyone would mourn his bisexual ass. Jon and Martin would grieve him normally and Sasha might make them go to therapy/talk to someone about it.

Martin:

If he died during the Prentiss Attack, he'd come back as a ghost. There's no other option, that's just what has to happen. Maybe it would be a chance for slight humour, cause Jon resolutely believed he's hallucinating for an embarrassingly long time before Martin's like nah bro...im a ghost. And he keeps Martin's reappearance to himself cause he wants something good for himself that no one can take away and they get closer and fall in love and everything but there's the added angst that he's a literal fucking ghost. The whole Peter Lukas arc is him slowly fading away as a ghost and Jon nearly kills himself to bring him back. In the end he does stab himself but he feels Martin push the knife in when he dies and he dies knowing that he'll join him.

Or alternatively, he's just gone. Jon would spiral with guilt and anxiety knowing that his last conversation with him doesn't excuse his poor treatment of him and that he died getting cut off from the others in the tunnels, he died scared and alone and worse, he died with the little bit of hope that things might get better. Tim and Sasha would both be devastated, they'd stare out at his empty desk and lash out with anger and fear and cry but in the end at least have each other to lean on. But Jon would be alone in his office with no one to give him tea. His physical health spirals and everyone's worried about him, the way Sasha and Tim have stuck together makes him even more paranoid that they somehow killed Gertrude together and no matter how soft with him they are, he still barrells towards the end with an even stronger need to martyr himself. It's bleak guys. My man is not ok.

So I guess if I could kill one of them off, I'd probably go for Tim's death cause Sasha being a better horror protagonist than Jon is actually so funny to me I think that would be so interesting but Ghost!Martin as a close second cause that would actually add so much depth.

Thank you for your ask!! I really enjoyed answering it!!

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin k blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #tim stoker #sasha james #archival assistants #tma au #asks #answered asks #tma headcanons

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everybodyknows-everybodydies · 2 months

Note

32) dust motes, Martin

The way that stained glass filters sunlight has a way of making everything feel—a little more holy. A little more beautiful. He understands anew, when the frosted segments of Akatosh cast the chapel in bright hues, the sense of serenity the chapel bestows.

The stained glass paints the front pews in bright afternoon oranges and golds, where Sister Oleta dozes next to the cobbler’s little girl. “We are praying, boy,” she grumbles without opening her eyes. The little girl cracks an eye open to peek, ducking her head again in embarrassment and holding her clasped hands over her face when she sees Martin.

Where Sister Oleta is praying in the front pew, he amends mentally. “I wouldn’t suggest otherwise,” Martin says, smiling, and blows a thin speckling of dust off the worn edge of the pulpit. In the light, against the shadows further in, the dust in the air looks like the flecks of gold leaf that cling to one’s fingertips from the front covers of the older catechisms. He draws a slow inhale. Dust in the air, breath in his lungs.

Perhaps it’s only that the right light can make anything beautiful.

The heavy sound of the chapel doors opening interrupts his cleaning and earns a dignified snort from Sister Oleta, mimicked in miniature by her studious little shadow. Eldamil stands squinting under the arch at the shift from bright outdoor sun to the darker chapel interior, his tall spindly frame silhouetted nearly black against the color of the city. His expression shifts as his eyes must adjust. “Brother Martin,” he nods. “I have the Guild’s donations for the month.”

“Ah—thank you.” Martin skirts the pulpit to hurry down the aisle. The small wood crate Eldamil lowers into his arms rattles faintly with the tell-tale sound of alchemist’s bottles. “Let me put these away and I’ll draw up your receipt.”

“Oh, do allow me to assist,” Eldamil says with a cat’s smile, quick. “I didn’t make any of these; it’s the least I can do, I’m sure.”

The hues of light in the chapterhouse are much less bright, much less variegated, but not unwelcome. Martin sorts and Eldamil tallies, head bent and shoulders stooped to accommodate his height as the pen scratches over the page. “Have you been well?” Martin holds up a bottle to inspect the smudged label—handled wetly while the ink was yet drying, it seems.

“Fairer than ever, Brother Martin.” He peers over the tops of his glasses frames at the bottle, then offers, “Allergy warning—wheat in that one.”

He sees it, now, the feathered shapes more legible once the meaning is supplied. “Thank you,” Martin sets down the bottle. “The constitutionals have been helping, then?”

Eldamil flickers another smile, somehow more obfuscated than the bleeding of the ink on the label. “You’ve no idea.”

“It’s good,” he says, watching him, curious, “to find a fresh perspective. A change every now and again refreshes the mind, I’ve found. Did you find anything interesting, exploring the streets afresh?”

“Many things,” Eldamil waves a hand. The curve of his mouth does not falter. “Odd, isn’t it, how people perform the same routines, take the same paths every day? Nothing changes, nothing new. No one really knows the place they live in.” He huffs a laugh, the light catching a glint off the lenses of his glasses. “No one really knows their neighbors, for that matter. Do we, Brother Martin?”

The last bottle tallied, his signature on the receipt. “No,” Martin says thoughtfully. “But isn’t that why we make the effort? There is always something to learn.”

“There is that,” he agrees. He scans the receipt before nodding, satisfied, and folding it to tuck into his shirt pocket. “Thank you for this. And for the privilege of assisting.”

“Please,” Martin lifts the emptied crate, amused, “I appreciate it. Let me carry this to the door for you. It went much quicker with the help—you seem singularly focused, lately. You are well?”

Some note of surprise flits across his face, then is subdued by his usual composure. “Yes, I promise. No need to waste your priestly concern on me, Brother. I suppose I am…” Eldamil pauses, adjusts his glasses, almost embarrassed. “I am only a little—a little excited. I am making myself ready,” he says at last. “I have a friend, coming to visit soon. That’s all. I’d like to show him all the new ways to walk the streets I’ve been learning. All the—small things, to appreciate, you understand.”

He does. It’s a nice thought to share with someone. He thinks of his own little discoveries of wonder, things to pause and point to. Dust in the air. Flecks of gold leaf. It’s only that people so often take it as doctrine instead, from his mouth. Martin walks him back up the short flight of stairs, the colorful chapel light welcoming their return, warmly dazzling. “I hope that your friend enjoys the city.”

Eldamil’s gaze lingers at the front of the chapel, where Sister Oleta has acquired three more small students tugging at her skirts with a thousand whispered questions that she shushes: There’s an order to these things, you lot; finish your prayers. He smiles without teeth, as blooming and golden as the motes still suspended aloft. “I think he will.”

#writing tag #sat with this one for a LONG time because. had to chew on it.#but finally lit upon a way I thought I could go about what I wanted to do and went ah! ...ah!#people are people! always!#alright I've scraped over this too many times now. if there's a typo I've missed. no there isn't <3

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mllemaenad · 2 months

Text

The Magnus Protocol: Give and Take

Huh. It sounds rather as though Chester has some opinions about barging into other people's space in the workplace.

I must admit, I don't go in for a lot of worrying about whether a piece of information is somehow a red herring and doesn't really mean what I think it means. Mostly because I don't think The Magnus Archives really worked like that.

It had a lot of complex world building that it revealed in pieces, and its central conceit was that its protagonist was a man who had an urgent need to understand the mechanics of the world but, as the villain of the piece was actively denying him access to that information, he had to drag it out of horror stories one weird fact at a time.

I don't mean to say that there was never a misdirect: in season 3 the characters really needed to believe in the threat of the Unknowing, and so for the duration of that story arc it was a threat. It had a reasonably plausible explanation for why the rituals had always failed – that if it wasn't Gertrude Robinson blowing them up it was the servant of some other rival power – and you could just go along with it. But when the story wanted you to think about the rituals, it immediately and clearly started saying that actually, they collapse on their own all the damn time.

By and large, if something seemed weird it probably was. If you heard the same name twice, you'd probably keep on hearing it. The lady infested with bugs you learned about in episode six, and who definitely freaked John out, was in fact going to be a problem. And so on. I don't mean this as a criticism: stories with endless impossible-to-guess twists are often just annoying. Solid world building that makes more and more sense as you go on is a positive.

It's possible that The Magnus Protocol is a different kind of story, and is actively trying to mislead its listeners. But that feels like a problem for a later me, should evidence of that arise.

It does deal quite differently with the way information is distributed across its cast, though. I mean – Jonah Magnus/Elias Bouchard absolutely hoarded information, but otherwise it was fairly well distributed. If another character found out something important, John heard it on the tapes. Martin also listened to the tapes. And honestly, John was reasonably forthcoming if he knew a useful fact the others didn't. I'm not disputing the time everybody forgot to tell Tim about an impending apocalypse for a couple of weeks ... but even that got resolved by Martin realising and telling him about the impending apocalypse.

Here, though ... everyone is following a different thread, and nobody is sharing what they know. That creates a very different atmosphere.

And the story ... I mean, it's mostly about a workplace getting wildly out of control.

It's interesting that Alice seems to like Chester, but dislike Norris. I suspect that there's mostly just a meta joke there, as the episode was penned by Norris's voice actor. But still: it's hard to imagine the sense in which Norris could be a "whiny little toad" when his personality fluctuates with the cases he reads. And Chester's case, here, was definitely someone having a whine. Don't get me wrong: Dianne had a horrible experience. But she is very much here to complain about it.

You could argue, as a starting point, that the whole case reads like a broad summary of how things went in The Magnus Archives:

Got dropped into a managerial role following the long absence and eventual death of my predecessor

Did not receive any reasonable training or oversight during the transition period

Found the place completely empty of staff and had to just deal with that

Completely winged it on actually running the place

Direct line manager was unhelpful and almost gleefully unresponsive to requests for assistance

Several people just ... signed up to work there, with no process whatsoever and nothing that even had a whiff of a related skill set

Then there were monsters everywhere, which was just great

The situation was very much out of control

Was very much in peril of being actually be crushed to both despair and actual death by the sheer number of monsters and other weird crap that had taken over my world

Everything was on fire

Sitting on the floor and screaming does feel like a reasonable response to all of the above

Even Dianne's mild officiousness (she keeps ... listing her bachelor's degree. Why on earth?) is reminiscent of how John could sound when he wanted people to think he knew what he was doing.

That said, it is a relief to encounter a character who had a supernatural experience and reacted by noting that this was some horrible bullshit and leaving.

Of course the primary difference between this and The Magnus Archives is where the threat came from. The archival staff could be a cantankerous bunch, but they were never in themselves the problem.

Dianne's weird volunteers remind me most of the eerie students in Anatomy Class. Which isn't to say that they're the same – just that it has the same kind of feel to it, where the point is that their behaviour is almost recognisably human. And as the working situation spirals out of control in the story, you feel it also deteriorate in the OIAR.

It's all about intruders. Celia is the least obvious intruder – the new hire, who has a much reason to be here as anybody else. But there's the sense that she may have come here from very far away indeed, and like the volunteers in the story, she brings odd things with her:

Celia Is there any way to look up specific files? Alice Like what? Celia Oh I don’t know. Every case about being buried alive or meat or… whatever. – The Magnus Protocol: Give and Take

Celia seems to be very much referencing the entity categorisations from The Magnus Archives. So you have to wonder – is that relevant here? She might operate as an audience insert here, with preconceptions about how the world works that ultimately won't help her.

I don't think it is necessary to throw out everything you know from The Magnus Archives to enjoy this story. It's hardly unusual for a sequel to be accessible to a newcomer but provide a richer experience to anyone familiar with the original. Gwen Bouchard likely has some interesting connection to Elias Bouchard that will come up eventually. If you listened to The Magnus Archives you know the name and can anticipate and be curious about what that means. If you didn't – well, they'll tell you when they get there.

But this is more about the nature of reality. Robert Smirke's fourteen was one man's attempt to categorise, explain and control a nebulous collection of supernatural experiences and beings. It continued to be relevant in The Magnus Archives because many of Smirke's associates were still around. They set up cults and organisations around their own personal obsessions, and taught younger people to think as they did. The broken world was largely the fault of an assortment of privileged men from the heyday of the British Empire literally defining the rules of existence.

Here – well, the existence of The Magnus Institute implies the existence of a Somebody Magnus, if not necessarily a Jonah. But the fact that it's located in Manchester makes it quite clear that the early events from The Magnus Archives could not have occurred in the same way. So are there different people involved? Different obsessions? Different rules?

None of the items were fit for sale. I specifically recall two large, soiled Crinoline dresses, a Chaise Longue with cushions filled with some sort of coarse sand, a taxidermied vulture, a rusty antique printing press and a collection of old medical equipment that had seemingly been recently used. There were many, many additional items but I was unable to take a full inventory as the shop floor was overfull. – The Magnus Protocol: Give and Take

There's a lot going on, and it's all creepy and wrong. But how do you sort and make sense of it all?

And then there's Sam, who finally pushes his way into Colin's private space. There's the question there about relevance again. Sam has come to ask about a weird email (and as an aside, I am going to amuse myself imagining that Alice has a filter on her inbox to send anything from that address to spam, and every one of the hundreds of affected emails says "stop calling me Chester"). Colin does not care about the weird email, although he cares about being recorded enough to assault Sam and break his phone.

Sam brought something weird and unwanted – the phone with is internal microphone, and the audience can be certain Colin is right: it's listening.

While I have no doubt there are weirder things in the world than internal emails from people who don't work at the OIAR, it does seem like a strange thing to dismiss out of hand. Sam has received mysterious forms from a supposedly "automated" process, and a peculiar email from a "John" who does not exist. Alice has received a security notification regarding Sam's search activities. Gwen has received a recording of Lena attempting a murder, and apparently information from a "source" indicating that Lena hid that information from her superiors.

Someone or something is listening, and someone or something is communicating. It could even be multiple someones – but nobody at the OIAR is comparing notes to find that out. If Colin knew about the other instances, would he care more about the email?

There even seems to be disinformation being spread, as Alice explicitly told Celia the search does not work:

Alice Well, there’s a search bar, but it doesn’t actually do anything. You’d have to dig through them all manually. – The Magnus Protocol: Give and Take

But we already know that it does from Sam's research into The Magnus Institute:

Alice Apparently you tried searching for files with the terms… (checking printout) "Magnus” and “Protocol"? Sam That’s what this is about? I mean, yeah, okay, I got a case referencing the Magnus Institute and then I looked it up and found a few files on the system that mentioned using “The Protocol”. Why would that be restricted? – The Magnus Protocol: Taking Notes

I don't know why she did that, aside from her general aversion to digging into the cases she assesses, but it does make it harder to keep everybody on the same page.

And then Gwen, who both unceremoniously bursts into Lena's office, and apparently blackmails her way "in" to the true business of the OIAR. She too brings something unwanted: evidence of Lena's attack on Klaus-the-presumably-former-IT-guy-whose-fault-it-is-the-damn-code-is-in-German.

But what does "in" mean, and what does an "external liaison" do? The most reasonable assumption seems to be dealing with these Starkwall people, who were also likely the people who charged in to the Hilltop Centre and dealt with a messy situation by a) shooting everybody and b) setting things on fire. I see now why the first word Sam associated with those people was "massacre".

It's interesting to consider what Gwen might be trying to get out of this. Lena keeps referring to her as ambitious, but a managerial role on the night shift at a creepy data warehouse isn't exactly reaching for the stars. Obviously there is more than that going on here – but how and what does Gwen know about it? And if Starkwall deals with everything the way they dealt with the situation at Hilltop Centre, what could standing next to that mess gain a person?

Finally there is Hilltop Centre itself. It's interesting that in both universes the place seems to have latched on to charity as a cover: Hill Top Road's most notable incarnation was as a halfway house, and Hilltop Centre is a charity shop. The former gave the owners access to discarded people; the latter to discarded objects. It also suggests, though does not prove, that this is not the same reality from which Anya Villette hailed. Of course, the house could have been repurposed since her cleaning job in 2009, but it does seem a stretch since at that point in time it had been newly constructed as a private residence. It is also interesting that it was once again destroyed by fire.

So what was this "good cause" the volunteers were so diligently serving? And – if it was Starkwall and the OIAR that dealt with the situation there – who called it in? Dianne's report is clearly after the events, so this is not the case that summoned them.

I'd be interested to hear what did, and what they thought was going on.

#the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #the magnus archives

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rainbowwing251 · 4 months

Text

The Other Chris (Wild Kratts Tickle Fic)

A/N: I can’t. Believe. I’m doing this.

Seriously, I can’t believe I’m doing this. I should not be doing this, but I’m doing it anyway.

So uh… yeah, this is… a thing! It’s a tickle fic for the PBS Kids series Wild Kratts!

I know I said I didn’t want to make tickle content for the show, but truth be told… I really wanted to for… almost as long as I’ve been into the show. The only reason why I decided against it was because I was afraid. Afraid of how the Wild Kratts fandom would see me for making this kind of content. Afraid that the tickling community wouldn’t care about tickle content for this show. Afraid that somehow, someway, the Kratt Brothers themselves would find my content.

But recently, two out of my three fears have been proven false. It turns out that there IS a tickling community for Wild Kratts and that the tickling community as a whole does enjoy the limited amount of tickle content there is for it. I’m still concerned about whether or not the brothers themselves will find it, but I guess I shouldn’t worry about that for now…

This is a long author’s note, and I apologize for that, but before I get onto this fic, I would like to mention that this fic is a collab! This is a collab between myself and @kittyfluffies on Tumblr, whom I may have accidentally dragged into the Wild Kratts fandom with me… oops.

Well, let’s see how this goes! Real quick, this fic takes place shortly after the events of the episode “The Other Martins”!

P.S. Interpret this as Krattcest and I’ll get the sniper rifle. That shit is DISGUSTING.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today was a horrible day to be Chris Kratt.

Everything that could go wrong today did go wrong, except for the appearance of one or more of the villains. But would that have been any worse than falling into a pile of rotten apples, nearly being dive bombed by a Purple Martin (multiple times in fact), finding an American Pine Marten, having an American Red Squirrel steal your Creature Power Suit, getting tickled by said squirrel and your brother at the same time, and falling into a body of water, in that order, all on the same day? All while your brother teases you relentlessly the whole time? Chris would argue that this is worse than anything the villains could throw at him and the rest of the Tortuga crew.

He tried to combat his bad luck by calling it a day early to try and think of animals that shared his name, but there was one problem with this plan: he can’t think of a single animal that has “Chris” in its name. Not a single one.

“Come on, there’s gotta be one animal out there with the name Chris that isn’t me…! There has to be…!” he thought as he laid in a bed in the basement of the Tortuga. He had intended to lie in one of the hammocks that was in the central room of the ship, but remembered that none of those were his. They belonged, from top to bottom, to Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy Z, and as much as he would have liked to be in a hammock right now, he didn’t want to risk being scolded for taking a hammock that wasn’t his. That, and he was already feeling irritated by the events of the day and didn’t want to be angered any further, so he chose to isolate himself to try and calm down.

This worked for some time, but eventually, the peace was disturbed by the appearance of someone else.

The moment he heard those footsteps, he knew who it was. And he groaned.

“Oh no…” He should have known that there was no way he would be able to go the rest of the day without seeing the one who was responsible for half of the troubles he faced today, and yet somehow, he thought he would be left alone.

The door to the basement opened, and in came the reason he was even lying here in the first place: his older, mischievous, and sometimes annoying brother, Martin Kratt.

“Hey bro!” he greeted before noticing the look on Chris’s face. He’s seen him direct that face at the villains and sometimes him a couple of times, but something about that expression in this moment seemed… off.

“What? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“After everything you put me through today? No, absolutely not.”

That upsetted Martin a little bit, but he did understand why he’d feel that way. It didn’t stop him from teasing him a little bit more, however.

“Awww, come on, Chris! You got to see animals that share a name with your bro! Does that not make you happy? Not even a little bit?” he teased, putting his hand on his shoulder and leaning towards his face.

Chris rolled his eyes at his brother’s actions, “Remember when I said that purple martins didn’t annoy me anymore, but this one-” Chris put a finger on Martin’s chest, “-not so much? I meant it.”

“Awww, you’re no fun, bro. I was just messing with you! I wanted you to enjoy The Day of the Martins!”

“Your teasing didn’t help me get my Creature Power Suit back from that red squirrel.”

“But I still got it back!”

Chris sighed and poked his brother again, “You don’t get it, do you?” He was about to lecture his older brother before he heard what sounded like a mix of a giggle and a squeak, “You’re still laughing at my luck, aren’t you?”

“N-no, just watch where you’re poking me!” Martin explained, grabbing Chris’s wrist and pulling it away from him. Chris looked down to see where he had poked him, thinking he had poked him in the chest again, only to realize that he had accidentally poked his brother in the stomach.

Suddenly, he got an idea. An idea on how he could get back at his brother for his merciless teasing.

If he couldn’t think of any animals with Chris in their name, then he’ll have to invent one. One that can give him the power to take revenge on his brother.

“...Chris?” Martin’s concerned voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “You alright?”

A malicious grin formed on Chris’s face, “Chris isn’t here right now.”

Martin raised a brow at his younger brother’s statement, “Huh? What are you talking about, bro? You’re right here! What do you mean you aren’t-”

“Chris. Isn’t. Here. Right now.” The green brother grabbed Martin by his wrists and swiftly pinned him down onto the bed. “Only his alter-ego~”

Upon hearing that teasy tone in his voice, Martin immediately knew what was about to happen. “C-Chris? Can we talk about this…?!”

Chris let out a sinister-sounding chuckle, “I already told you, Chris isn’t here~ Only…” he brought his hands into Martin’s vision and wiggled his fingers.

“W-wait, nohoho! Don’t-!”

“The TICKLE MONSTER!” The younger brother drilled a finger into the other’s armpits, “But right now, you can call me the ‘Other Chris’~”

To Chris’s slight shock, Martin had already burst into a fit of giggles with a few laughs mixed in for good measure.

“Nohohohoho, Chrihihihihs! W-We can tahahahalk about thihihis!”

“Laughing already? And from a single finger in the armpits, no less~? This will be easy~”

The blue brother was already squirming under the ticklish touch, trying and failing to throw Chris off of him.

“Trying to throw me off, are we~? I think that warrants a punishment, wouldn’t you agree~?” Chris ignored the unintentional rhyme and snuck a second wiggling finger into Martin’s armpits, causing his giggles to rise in volume and his squirming to become a little more violent.

“C-Chrihihis nohohohoho! That t-tihihihihihickles!” Martin cried out, his arms coming down in an attempt to protect his armpits, but unfortunately for him, that only served to trap his brother’s fingers in there.

“I told you, I’m not Chris! I am the Other Chris!” The “Other Chris” protested as he broke through the blue Kratt’s defenses to slip a third finger under his arms.

“Chrihihihihis, I knohohohow you’re in thehehehehre!”

“Nope, Chris is nowhere to be found right now, but I promise, he’ll come back once I give him what he wants~”

“Whahahahahahat? What d-dohohohoes he wahahahant?”

Chris gave him the most evil smirk he could muster. “Revenge~” With that, he skipped the fourth step and slipped the last two fingers under Martin’s arms. With all ten fingers tickling him, Martin went from squirming to thrashing uncontrollably, nearly throwing Chris off of him a few times. He’d also started kicking his legs, desperately trying to distract himself from the tingly sensation under his arms.

“NOHOHOHOHO, BROHOHOHOHOHO! C-CUT IT OHOHOHOHOUT!” Martin seemed to nearly scream out as he kept kicking and thrashing for a few more seconds, only stopping when he felt a hand on his ankle.

“Are you trying to kick me~? How rude~!” Chris teased. He was about to stick a hand back under his brother’s arm before he was hit with another idea. Martin, who had squeezed his eyes shut during his laughing fit, opened them and giggled in anticipation. “C-Chrihihihihs?”

The evil grin his brother had on his face nearly made him burst into laughter again.

“You know, Martin… I’m pretty sure it’s not a good idea to kick another person, and yet you tried to kick me anyway. I think it’s time for me to switch spots and teach you another lesson~”

“Whahahahat?” Martin questioned through his giggles before he felt his shoelaces coming undone. “Whahahaha- hehehehehey! Don’t remove my shoes, plehehehehehese! Chrihihihihis!”

“It’s too late to beg for mercy now, Martin~” Chris slowly pulled both shoes off before slipping a finger into the blue brother’s socks.

“Nononononono dohohohohohon’t! Dohohohon’t do ihihihihit!”

“Do what~?” Chris asked him, pulling one sock off of his foot, “Take your shoes and socks off? Well too bad, I will not stop until you apologize to me… and to Chris~”

“But yohohohou are Chrihihih- NOHOHOHOHOHOHO!” Martin burst into laughter upon feeling a hand on his bare left foot.

“Laughing already~? This will be easy~” With that, Chris dug in, scribbling his fingers all over the other’s feet. Martin absolutely lost it in response.

“NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO, CHRIHIHIHIHIHIHIS! S-STAHAHAHAHAHP!”

“Begging for mercy again are we~? I don’t remember you giving Chris mercy when he told you to stop, so why should I~?” Chris ribbed, leaning in closer to Martin’s face in an attempt to make the teasing worse for his older brother. Needless to say, it worked like a charm.

“PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHASE STAHAHAHAHAHAP TEHEHEHEASING MEHEHEHE!”

“And why should I do that~?” the younger brother asked, focusing the tickling on Martin’s arches, a spot he knew was unbearably sensitive to any kind of touch, “Does it tickle more when I tease you~? Does it make you lose all of your strength so you can’t fight back~? Tell me, Martin, does teasing make you weak to tickles~? Even more so than you already are~?”

Martin’s only response was to throw his head back in uncontrollable laughter before immediately rushing to cover his face with a pillow to muffle himself.

“That was not a response, but I’ll take it anyway~” Chris reacted with a giggle, far too amused by how much his brother was laughing. “Besides, now that you’re covering your face, you won’t be able to see what I’m doing~”

To prove his point, the younger Kratt suddenly switched from scribbling Martin’s arches to scratching under his toes. Just as he predicted, Martin’s laughter increased in both pitch and volume, though it was muffled a little by the pillow.

“CRIHIHIHIHS NOHOHO-MMMPH!” The older Kratt had lifted the pillow a little to plead for Chris to have mercy on him, but he had to cut himself off by pulling the pillow back over his face because he was afraid his laughter would alert someone upstairs.

“You brought this on yourself, Martin~ All you had to do was get Chris’s vest back without tickling him, but nope, you couldn’t resist~”

Chris looked down to return his focus to Martin’s feet when, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bright green disc in one of Martin’s shoes. For the third time that day, he was hit with an evil idea. He slowed the tickling under Martin’s toes to a stop and waited for him to catch his breath.

“Hey Martin~”

“A-are you fihihihinally going to have mercy on mehehehe…?” Martin let out his after-giggles and slowly lifted the pillow off of his face. Chris grinned a little at seeing the bright pink blush on his brother’s face, a clear indication that this was a job well done so far. He nearly laughed when he saw his eyes widen in horror.

“T-that’s…!”

Chris let out the most malicious laugh he could muster. “The Pine Marten Power Disc~” He then leaned in towards Martin again. “I think you know what I’m going to do with this, but first, I need to find a pine marten~”

The other Martin tried to snatch the Power Disc out of his brother’s hands, but Chris just dodged each attempt effortlessly.

“Now… how am I going to keep you from escaping…?” Chris pondered, realizing that he had not considered the possibility of using an animal’s Creature Powers to tickle Martin. At that moment, both brothers heard the door to the basement open.

“What’s going on down here? I thought I heard someone laughing…” Aviva walked into the room and spotted the brothers. Martin’s blush deepened into a dark shade of red while Chris’s face turned a bright pink, just like his brother’s face was a few seconds ago. The blush quickly faded from the green brother’s face when he realized that the answer to his question had just caught them in the act.

“Aviva, keep him pinned down for me, will you?”

“Huh…?” Aviva was very confused, but upon seeing the tears of mirth in the corners of Martin’s eyes combined with the blush and residual giggles, she quickly caught on to what was going on, “Ohhh, I see~ Sure thing, Chris~”

“I’m not Chris, I’m the Other Chris!”

Aviva couldn’t help but roll her eyes at that, “Whatever you say, ‘Other Chris’~”

Chris elected to ignore the sudden embarrassment that welled up within him upon hearing Aviva’s teasing words and walked out of the basement to go find his “partner” in crime. As soon as he left, Aviva turned to face the flustered mess of a Kratt brother on the bed.

“Hehehehey Avivahahaha…!”

She couldn’t help but giggle at him, “Chris got you good, didn’t he~?”

“Yeahahaha, and he’s not even dohohohne yet!” Martin answered as the remaining after giggles slowly subsided. “You’ll get me out of here, rihihight…?”

“Hmm…” The inventor pretended to ponder his question before she pinned him down, just as Chris asked her to, “Nope~ Don’t want to get on Chris’s- sorry, ‘Other Chris’s’- bad side~”

Martin’s giggles quickly returned as he realized there was no hope of escape, “Nohohohoho! I mehehehehehean, I geheheht it, but nohohohoho!”

“No what, Martin~? Do you want me to get on your brother’s bad side~? On ‘Other Chris’s’ bad side~? After everything he did to you~?” Aviva smirked at the blue Kratt’s sudden laughing fit, “No way~! If you can’t handle his tickle skills, how do you expect me to handle them~?”

Before Martin could respond (if he would’ve been able to answer at all given how hard he was laughing), both he and Aviva heard the sound of a Creature Power Suit being activated upstairs, followed by the sound of quiet footsteps approaching the door to the basement.

Aviva couldn’t help but let out an evil chuckle as she saw her pinned victim’s eyes widen in horror, “Looks like your time is running out, Martin~”

“NOHOHOHOHO!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The whole time Aviva was teasing his brother, Chris had entered the main room of the Tortuga to find a pine marten. As soon as the door opened and he stepped inside, he finally allowed himself to break character.

“Phew… keeping up a fake persona is tiring… but oh is it worth it~” Chris thought to himself, “Let’s see… is there a pine marten in here…?”

Chris looked around the room and noticed that two certain crew members were nowhere to be found. “Koki and Jimmy aren’t here…? That’s a little odd…”

Before he could further question their whereabouts, his eyes landed on a pine marten that was sitting in Aviva’s desk chair. Chris grinned, “But right now, I need the help of my ‘partner’ in crime~”

He made sure to carefully approach the pine marten so as not to scare it away before he put on his Creature Power Suit and took Martin’s Pine Marten Power Disc out of his left pocket.

“Hey there! Li’l Marty, was it?” Chris asked the little creature as it turned to look at him, “Well I’ll need your help to get revenge on Big Marty~”

He put his gloves on. He was finally ready to enact the last part of his plan.

“Insert Pine Marten Power Disc!”

He put one gloved finger on the pine marten.

“Touch pine marten!”

He pressed the central button on his vest, and…

“Activate pine marten powers!"

The suit activated, and within seconds, he had become a pine marten.

“Haha, I finally got the chance to use pine marten powers! But I’ll have to test out the pine marten’s hunting tricks some other time. I have a more important prey to devour downstairs~”

Chris ran out the door and down the steps to the basement.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He made it to the bottom of the stairs, but waited a moment before entering the basement to listen to the pure terror that found its way into Martin’s laughter.

“Did he hear me activate my Creature Power Suit?” Chris wondered before smirking, “Good.”

He finally entered the room to see Aviva holding down a hysterical Martin, but while they did hear the sound of the door opening and looked to see if he was there, they failed to look down towards the floor, where he actually was.

“Look down here~”

Aviva looked down and giggled upon both seeing him and hearing Martin shriek out a “AVIHIHIHIVA, LET ME GOHOHOHOHO!” She just ignored him and greeted Chris.

“There you are Ch- Other Chris!” she corrected herself.

“You see what my plan is now, Aviva~?”

“Sure do~ Want me to stay here, or do you want me to leave you to it?”

Chris tried to think about his response, but couldn’t hear his own thoughts over the sound of his brother’s uncontrollable laughter. Out of playful spite, he decided, “Leave him to me~”

Aviva nodded, “Okay then~ Sorry Martin, but it looks like you’ll be stuck with him for a bit longer~ See you later… if you’re still alive that is~” She released said Kratt from her grasp before walking out of the door and heading back upstairs. The whole time she was walking away, Martin was pleading for her to reconsider and help him escape, but it was futile. She and Chris had already made their decisions.

Martin’s laughter had subsided a little after the inventor left, but he still had a hard time controlling himself, especially when he looked at his younger brother sitting on the floor. Watching. Waiting there. Menacingly.

“C-Chrihihihihihs? Hellohohohoho?”

Chris leered at him, “Are you ready for the grand finale, Martin~?”

“Nohohohohoho, nohohot at ahahahahahahall!”

“Well too bad~”

The green pine marten ran over to one of the legs near the foot of the bed, climbed up it, and ran across Martin’s body to get to his neck. The whole time he ran across his brother’s torso and ribs, he dragged his tail behind him, intentionally tickling him and sending him into another fit of laughter.

“H-hehehehehehey, wahahahahahatch the taihihihihihil!”

“What do you mean? I was watching my tail!” Chris snuck up to Martin’s ear before he spoke again, “I was watching it tickle you~”

He could feel Martin shiver as he brought his now-free hands up to his ears to cover them up. Unfortunately for him, the ears were the last spot his brother had in mind.

While his hands were up and covering his ears, Chris made his way to his neck and stood dangerously close to the collar of his shirt.

He could practically feel the heat radiating off his brother’s skin as he took note of the blush that had managed to spread from Martin’s face to his neck. He saw the tips of his ears through his fingers and noticed that they even had a tinge of red on them. He didn’t know his older brother could get this flustered!

“You ready~?” He asked teasingly, knowing full well what Martin’s answer was going to be.

“N-nohohohoho! Chrihihihis, d-dohohohon’t do ihihit!”

Chris couldn’t help the smug grin that made its way onto his face, though he didn’t turn to show it to his brother, “Too bad~ Here we go~!”

He stuck his head into the collar of Martin’s shirt, slowly inching his way in. He was only a few inches in when he suddenly pulled himself out and began sniffing at the blue Kratt’s neck. Martin was in no way prepared for this sudden change and nearly let out a squeal as he desperately tried to move his head from side to side to get his brother’s face away from his neck.

“H-hehehehehehey, don’t sniff my nehehehehck!” I-I dohohohon’t smehehehell!”

“That’s not what I’m going for, Martin~ I’m just here to make you laugh, and unless you apologize for what you did to Chris today…” Chris moved down to where Martin’s blush ended on his neck and went right back to sniffing, “You better prepare yourself~”

“I-I cahahahahahahn’t!”

“You can’t apologize? And here I thought you knew basic manners~”

The green pine marten stayed at Martin’s neck for a few more seconds before the sniffing came to an end. However, while his brother had his guard down, Chris quickly zipped into his shirt and ran across his stomach over and over again.

Martin’s only response to the sneak attack was a squeal so loud that it nearly stunned Chris. While he knew that the walls of the Tortuga are rather thick, he highly doubted that Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy were unable to hear that squeal, even if they were outside of the ship.

“CHRIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! I-I CAN’T- AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

“Huh? What was that, Martin~? I can’t understand you, you’re laughing too hard~” Chris taunted as he kept up the pace and continued to race around on his brother’s torso. He dragged his tail behind him once again, swishing it back and forth to make it tickle even more, and even stopped running a few times to pretend to use it like a paintbrush on Martin’s navel, which nearly resulted in him getting pushed out of his shirt by his hands. It didn’t take long for Chris to notice that Martin’s squirming and pushing was gradually fading, a tell-tale sign that he was nearly at his limit.

“Ready to say sorry yet~?”

“Y-YEHEHEHEHES! YEHEHEHEHEEHS! I’M SOHOHOHOHOHORY! CHRIHIHIHIHIS, PLEAHAHAHAHAHAHASE!”

The moment Martin said sorry, Chris brought the tickles to a halt and carefully climbed out of his sibling’s shirt, doing his best to not make any of his steps tickle him any further.

“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it~?” Chris teased him one last time before he hopped off of him and onto the floor, waiting for his giggly mess of a brother to catch his breath and calm down.

“T-thahahahaht… that wahahahahs evihihihihil…!”

“Good~ That’s what I was going for~ So next time, when you try to bully your brother for an entire day, remember… I will be here to tickle you until you apologize to him for your behavior~” With that, Chris stood up, said, “Deactivate!” and reverted back to his normal appearance and personality.

“You okay, bro?” he asked and held out his hand, worried that he might have taken his tickly punishment a bit too far.

“Y-yeah…” Martin breathed out, taking his younger brother’s hand and letting himself be pulled up into a sitting position. “Just give me a few more seconds to breathe…”

After two deep breaths, he got up off of the bed and stood next to his brother, “Do you think the crew heard me squeal…?”

“Only one way to find out! Come on, let’s see if they’re upstairs!”

A light pink blush returned to Martin’s face, but nonetheless, he went upstairs with Chris into the main room of the Tortuga. When the door opened, they were greeted with the sight of Aviva waiting in front of the big computer, while Koki and Jimmy were at their desks, having turned to face the brothers.

“So…” Aviva started with a smirk, “Who’s going to explain that loud squeal we heard downstairs~?”

Martin’s blush turned a dark red, while Chris just stood there, trying to look as though he had no idea what she was talking about.

“I’m not an expert on human noises, but I don’t think that squeal belonged to any of us.”

“Certainly didn’t come from me! I’d know my own squeals anywhere!” Jimmy responded to Koki’s comment, completely unaware of the engineer creeping up behind him until he heard a, “Boo!”

“AAAAAAH!” Jimmy didn’t squeal, but he did indeed scream and bolted behind Koki and her chair. Everyone couldn’t help but laugh at his panicked reaction.

“Hehehe, I think that’s enough to prove that it wasn’t him~” She then turned her attention back to the brothers, “Sooooooo~?”

The light pink blush Martin had the entire time turned a dark red again as his embarrassment grew, and even Chris couldn’t fight the faint pink blush on his cheeks as he tried his best to play it cool and pretend that he didn’t understand her.

No one said anything for a few seconds, then the blue Kratt finally spoke up, “I-It was me… and I’ve got to admit, Chris is a surprisingly good tickler if he got me to squeal that loud!” Martin quickly regained his usual energy and peered at his brother, who just looked at him with a confused expression.

“Huh? What are you talking about, bro? I didn’t tickle you!”

Martin gave him a “you’re really doing this?” look and decided to play along, “No, that was totally you, Chris, I swear!”

“No way! I’m not as good at tickling people as you are!”

“I think I remember hearing your voice teasing me into oblivion! I’d know your voice anywhere, bro!”

“I’m not good at teasing, either! Martin, I swear, you’re confusing me with someone else!”

For a moment, Koki and Jimmy thought that they were having a genuine argument over a supposed tickle attack, but when Aviva gave them a knowing grin, they immediately caught on to what was really happening.

“Nope, that was totally you! And you know what~?” Martin’s voice turned teasy out of nowhere as he brought his hands up into Chris’s view, wiggling his fingers, “I was lying when I said I was sorry~”

“Huh? Wha-” The younger brother was initially confused before spotting the wiggly fingers that were slowing approaching him, “W-wait, Martin noooOOOOHOHOHOHO DOHHOHOHOHON’T!” He immediately cracked when he felt his older brother’s fingers on his sides, ribs, and belly. It didn’t take for him to try to fall to the floor to escape the ticklish hell that was unleashed upon him, but unfortunately, Martin had followed him down, never stopping his assault.

“Haha, revenge sure is sweet!” Martin cheered, “Okay, I was sort of lying when I said I wasn’t sorry, I did feel bad for you, but right now, I care more about getting my revenge~”

Chris could only laugh and try to curl up as he felt Martin’s hand close in on the center of his stomach, but he managed to trap his hands there instead, sealing his tickly fate.

Aviva, Koki, and Jimmy couldn’t help but laugh along as they watched the chaos unfold in front of them.

“Hehe, these boys will never change, will they~?”

#tickling #wild kratts #Giggle Rats #lee!Martin #ler!Chris #with a little bit of lee!Chris and ler!Martin at the end #featuring a very teasy Aviva #I still can't believe I did this #But I AM CRINGE AND I AM FREE #fun fact: I typed up the last 430 words of this fic on December 22nd (the day before I posted this)#and I'm posting this on December 23rd which just so happens to be Martin Kratt's birthday #Happy Birthday Martin Kratt! What's your gift? your tickle monster of a brother apparently #one more thing: Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone!#this is probably going to be my only fic for 2023 #unless I finally finish that Splatoon 3 fic I was working on prior to this one #but if I don't you can expect to see that fic in 2024!#…oh shit I completely forgot that this was a collab fic #sorry fluffykitties!#If you want to see cute headcanons for games like Mr. Love or anime like Boueibu go check her out!#HELP THIS FIC WAS SUPPOSED TO HAVE A TITLE #It’s The Other Chris if you want to know!

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scoobydoodean · 29 days

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in regards to the john abuse post- for sam there's a scene in season 8 where that crazy hunter says something to the effect of 'I KNOW john would've taken you boys out to the woodshed for this' (which is. slang for a specific thing) and sam immediately explodes on the guy and shoves him into the wall. sure he's stressed about dean in that scene but a friend of his dad's mentioning his dad hitting him was clearly what made him snap in the moment. it was clearly something sam was sensitive about. considering the age and demographics of the characters (and writers) I can't help but wonder if maybe the winchesters are the sort of people who think corporal punishment and physical abuse are somehow two different things. like, it makes more sense than not that an ex marine in the 80s and 90s with a drinking problem who's constantly scared about his kids getting killed while also putting them in dangerous situations would probably spank them. so I wonder if the reason sam and dean had such different reactions to max's abuse in season 1 was because as much as he hated what john did there werent like, broken bones or anything involved, and he could justify that its not like john was beating them for no reason, versus dean who had a lot more responsibility placed on him and clearly went out of his way to hide things from sam. it is interesting to me that as sam gets older he sort of forgives john with a 'he tried his best' mindset and seems to remember him more fondly, while dean eventually settles in a place of 'I love him but I can't forgive him for my childhood'. srry for rambling.

Context

That would be Martin in 8.09 "Citizen Fang".

Glad your dad wasn't around to hear that. He'd have a mind to take you both out the woodshed and show you what's what. Half inclined to do it myself.

I can't say I have the same interpretation of that scene or Sam's reaction. Like I said, I don't begrudge anyone building the physically abusive John interpretation, and I think this can easily fit into that list of suggestive moments. I don't necessarily understand Martin's phrasing in the same way. Maybe it's worth it to translate my view of Martin's wording here into a little plainer terms (as a certified U.S. southerner, I feel qualified to do this 🤭):

"Your father would be very disappointed in you if he heard that conversation between the three of us. It would upset him to the extent that he would wish he could punish you as if you were still children instead of grown men. It is as if you have forgotten the simplest lessons—the ones you learned about the world from your father as you grew to adulthood. If you're going to act like uneducated children, perhaps I should treat you as such and become your new father so that I can re-teach these childhood lessons."

We do hear from Dean at the end of 2.03 "Bloodlust", that John had a very dogmatic stance on monsters, and I think this phrasing from Martin makes sense in this context, whether he does or doesn't also mean to imply specific punishments he knew to be carried out when they were young. (I don't personally feel "taken out to the woodshed" has to be so literal, and my google searches seem to agree?) Martin already actually hit Dean--I don't know that he means he actually wants to go back to literally hit Dean some more, though I suppose that's possible.

To be mindful of the context here and exactly how Sam reacts... this is right after Martin knocks Dean unconscious for opposing them about hunting Benny. Sam was immediately on edge when Martin knocked Dean out. Sam went along with it in the aftermath because it got him closer to what he wanted (Benny dead) but he didn't like it. Martin's actions plainly illustrated that he's a loose canon. Sam, having brought Martin into the hunt, is now seeing shit hit the fan as a result of his choice to involve a hunter he knew to be unstable (with the added sting of Dean having called out Martin's instability earlier in the episode—a reflection on Dean being the better judge of character and his lack of trust in Sam's reasoning being warranted—a thing Sam is sensitive about). Martin is not even a little conflicted or uncertain about the completely unhinged thing he just did to Dean, and he's got a clear sense of seniority, believing HE is the leader, and not just Dean—but Sam also is a dumb little kid who should do as Martin says.

If there are two things Sam Winchester hates, they are 1) His unilateral choices having disastrous outcomes that Dean predicted would happen and 2) being treated like a little kid... and Martin goes double or nothing with this line (and mentioning John also in the mix most certainly invokes, at the very least, the origin of Sam's follower/leader false dichotomy).

Sam's response to Martin is telling—a reminder that HE is the leader, and that Martin is under HIS command and better fall in line:

You listen to me. I brought you into this. I can bring you out just as easy. So the only thing you're gonna be inclined to do is shut up and follow my lead.

Basically, I think for me personally, this one can go in the suggestive evidence pile, but I don't find it any more convincing than the other things that have been mentioned. I'm not trying to tell anyone else how to think. I think your interpretation is reasonable. I think there's two reasonable conclusions here.

#8.09 #season 8 #martin #the flannel business #john #i dont deserve what he put on me #we probably have a lot more in common than just about anyone

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esther-dot · 5 months

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What do you think about Jaime's fate? Is he doomed by a narrative? Is he doomed because of the show? Or does he stand a chance?

Personally I'd like to believe that he would live. As far as I can remember (I could totally be wrong though) the most evil thing he does in the series is the Bran thing. And westerosi karma already held him responsible - he loses his ability to do that one thing that he loves the most and becomes disabled just like Bran. He's not the kindest, bravest, most noble etc person in the westeros but he's far from being evil like ramsey or tywin or cersei. Imho he's way better than fan favourite boy tyrion and not so favourite boy stannis - for a bunch of reasons. I just don't want him to die although chances are, well, questionable.

So how do you see his chances to survive?

Hope you're having a nice - or at least decent - day!

It's lovely weather, and I took a long walk first thing which means, it's a great day in my book. Thank you!

I can't remember what specifically convinced me, but somewhere along the line I accepted that Jaime and Cersei would die together, so I believe D&D got that from Martin. I wrote at the time that Jaime is a better man for returning to his sister/lover/mother of his children than leaving her to die alone, so I didn't share the opinion of the rest of the fandom there. It's really easy to project our feelings about a character onto a different character, and I think that happens a lot with those two.

Anyway, since then, @istumpysk has collected all the book foreshadowing for them to die together (here, a long google doc about it, more here), so I give him no chance of survival.

Ramsay is cartoonishly evil, so I don't think he's particularly interesting. Tyrion is Martin's fav and will likely benefit from that, Stannis is doomed, but Jaime really is an interesting character. My controversial take is that I don't think he's more deserving of a happy ending than Cersei who all the fandom recognizes will die. Yes, this a) reads like foreshadowing for King Bran, and b) also reads like karma:

"Does the sight of my stump distress you so?" Jaime asked. "You ought to be pleased. I've lost the hand I killed the king with. The hand that flung the Stark boy from that tower. The hand I'd slide between my sister's thighs to make her wet." He thrust his stump at her face. "No wonder Renly died, with you guarding him." (ASOS, Jaime V)

but I didn't think Jaime fundamentally changed as a person as far as values go? That's a severe punishment for him, I'm not gonna minimize what it means to him, but I did laugh in the show when he's facing Bran and unapologetic because to me, that's Jaime. Martin writes kid killing as a big no-no. Jaime is pretty cavalier about it:

Jaime got to his feet. "Your wife may whelp before that. You'll want your child, I expect. I'll send him to you when he's born. With a trebuchet." (AFFC, Jaime VI) Ask Edmure how chivalrous I am, thought Jaime. Ask him about the trebuchet. Somehow he did not think the maesters were like to confuse him with Prince Aemon the Dragonknight when they wrote their histories. Still, he felt curiously content. (AFFC, Jaime VII)

Now, I don't think dying with Cersei is necessarily meant to be read as karma for Bran, but I included the above for two reasons.

1.Jaime is a foil to Jon, I believe we're meant to contrast Jon's, morally grey perhaps, attempt to save a child with Jaime's disregard for one, and overall compare what their upbringing, the morals or lack thereof instilled, have formed of these two who had similar dreams, experienced disillusionment, shared the same hero:

They were not little boys when they fought, but knights and mighty heroes. "I'm Prince Aemon the Dragonknight," Jon would call out... (ASOS, Jon XII)

2. Jaime and Cersei are a variation on the Aemon and Naerys idea, and the parallels between Jaime and Jon, Sansa and Cersei, point to Jonsa being the positive variation of the old tale. So that expectation, in which Jon will successfully save Sansa from a marriage she doesn't want (hello girl in grey prophecy) and they'll fulfill the maiden/warrior vision that Jaime once had of himself and Cersei, the underlying, uh, preoccupation with and loyalty to their sisters (that Jaime has and Jon will have post reunion) means I'm ok with Jaime deciding his fate is to be with Cersei, in birth, in life, even in death. As I thought it worked in the show, returning to Cersei in the books will likewise mean he is able to have some self-respect. I don't think you can read his, I mean, I would say Cersei obsession and believe he'd ever have any peace of mind if she died alone while he had to go on living. We will get a healthier, happier version of the “brother/sister” (in the Targaryen sense) relationship with Jon/Sansa to complete the convo which is important to keep in mind when bemoaning the fate of certain characters--their endgames are part of a much bigger picture.

I thought this was a great write-up of his character which you might enjoy reading:

But what’s so vital about Jaime is that this is who he is - a bad person, a person willing to kill children to achieve his aims - but it isn’t all he is. And the point of introducing him as a POV is to force us to confront this fact, the fact that this would-be childkiller is also a three-dimensional, even sympathetic man with his own heartaches and struggles, with a sense of humor and a sense of honor and the saved lives of half a million people to his name. The good deeds don’t cancel out the bad, but neither do the bad cancel out the good. And instead of allowing us to take the easy path and categorizing him as either ‘purely evil’ or ‘wholly redeemed,’ the story simply pushes us to dwell within the psyche of this complex, broken man who is neither fully one nor the other. (link)

#dot chat

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nicolesainz · 4 months

Text

Within The Limits (Ben Chilwell x Jenson Button x OC)

Author's note: NEW SERIES BABES! I missed writing a full story, given that I always delete and redo my short fics, so this will be a probably 10-15 part story (if there's more, time will tell). This duo is very random, compared to the Mason x Carlos one I did last time, but I love these guys so much, so it was worth the shot. I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Chelsea Winster is a double working reporter for Sky sports F1 and the Premier League. At the ripe age of 25 she's surrounded herself with people who love and appreciate her (some more than others), that's how the former world champion Jenson Button got wrapped around her finger. But little does she know that an England senior and Chelsea player will step up his game just to see her smile. Who will she choose? Double trouble is fun but not when it comes to heart matters.

Warnings: nsfw content will be included, each chapter will get a warning so don’t worry, lots of swearing, intensity, age gap, fluff (of course)

next chapter

“Can you stop eye fucking Jenson for a minute? It’s as polite as I can ask you” Lissie nudges me with her elbow and I shake my head, coming back to reality.

“Sorry. Force of habit” I blurt out without realizing and Lissie slaps her hand on her mouth, shutting it.

“Oh my god. I don’t wanna know. Let’s just move on” she says and we focus back on the qualifying session that is currently taking place.

For some reason, qualifying for the British Grand Prix is always more thrilling than in any other race. Maybe neck to neck with Brazil but that’s because in both countries the weather is unpredictable, like the results.

Lissie works for the F1 network, while I for Sky Sports so most of the times at qualifying or free practice, I get to hang out with her since everyone else is in the comment box.

The one time I was in the commentary box with Crofty, Martin, Jenson and Nico, I almost confused Max with Checo and was about to announce Checo as the poleman instead of Max. That’s because I was heavily influenced by the way Jenson’s veins were showing around his muscled arms. Ever since that day, I refuse to step my foot inside there ever again.

Another reason why I try but fail to keep a distance from Jenson is that every time we are alone, we somehow end up in the back of a dark room, kissing like teenagers and making out until I can’t feel my legs anymore. Let’s just say that’s a detail no one knows. Not even Lissie. But I’m sure she’s suspected something given that in the space of an hour I showed up with a hickie on my neck.

I’m not afraid to admit that yes, I am into older men as well. Mostly the ones with brown hair and stupidly cute blue eyes, twice my age and 2009 world champion with Brawn, currently holding a microphone and analyzing how it’s impossible for the Ferrari’s to be on pole.

“I domt can’t tell whether you’re looking at the right side of the screen or left. Do you even pay attention to who is about to get eliminated?” Lissie snaps her fingers in front of my eyes.

“I can do multiple things at the same time. And yes, I’m looking both ways, what’s wrong with that?” I reply but now my attention turns to my friend.

“I seriously don’t get how you can be into older men instead of youngsters. Like, almost week in-week out in England, you’re surrounded by 44 handsome gentlemen and you’re telling me you only have eyes for Jenson?”

“Maybe. I mean, come on, look at him! He doesn’t compare to those boys in the Prem. Plus, half of them are perverts and others have girlfriends or wives. Jenson is single and I spend most of my time in the paddock with him”

“Have you at least told your loverboy that they are sending you for almost full-time at the Prem? He’ll miss you but not more than me” Lissie gives me a big smile and I hug her.

“He’ll find out when he sees me commenting alongside Micah Richards or Gary Neville. Plus, I think for some reason, they’ve assigned me to commentate most of Chelsea’s game and I don’t know if that has to do something with my name” oh the irony. My dad’s favorite team is Chelsea so when he and mum found out they were having a girl it was the perfect opportunity for him.

“Oh lucky! All of the hotties play for Chelsea. Well, used to, but some of them are still there. Like Ben Chilwell. A fine Englishman and champions league winner. What more than that?” She winks at my playfully and I roll my eyes with her comment.

"Not my cup of tea, L. Plus, all of them are arrogant assholes go just pose when the camera points at them." I do like football, I swear, it's the players that get on my nerves. Such divas.

"As if f1 drivers aren't snob and attention seekers?"

"Well, they have a sense of humanity and logicality. Driving the fastest cars alive, risking their lives, abandoning family and friends to travel the world just to entertain others. Footballers injure themselves and then take 2 months trip to the Bahamas."

"Remind me again why did they assign you to the Prem?" Lissie is amused with my ideas that she's been scratching her head the entire time.

"For banter, maybe?" I shrug

"Oh those poor boys, the things you will be telling them after the games."

____________________________________________________________

"Oh the way I knew that you couldn't get your eyes off the screen for even a second, satisfies me massively" Jenson whispers in my ear and I could faint right this instant moment.

"How can I? Especially when you are there. All bossy and classy simultaneously, explaining how the sport works better than anyone else" I smirk devilishly behind the crook of his neck.

"I still don't know for what reason you are attracted to me? My looks? My knowledge? Or my insanely good driving skills?" his hand lands on my thigh, caressing it up and down softly.

"All of the three" I sigh as I feel the hand going more upwards and uneasiness rushes over my body.

"Why so flushed darling? Does my hand on your thigh have this strong effect on you?" his lips kiss my jawline and a soft groan escapes my mouth.

"Oh I will miss this" I say as I hold on firmly to Jenson’s bicep and tighten my grasp around it.

“I’m not going anywhere dear, what are you talking about?” A small peck lands on my lips and I feel my lower lip being sucked by him.

I stop at my tracks and kiss Jenson sweetly before removing myself away from his lap, so I can tell him the truth about my job.

“I need you to be calm, m’kay?”

“I don’t understand. Is something wrong?” He looks worried and stressed.

“I’m being transferred. For the next two years I will be working full time in England.” I say out loud and it sounds like fake.

“Why? What? How? I mean, uh. Explain a bit further, please.”

“You know that I work for both the Premier League and F1. Well, Sky Sports decided to transfer me for two years back in England so I can commentate on the games and then they’ll decide where I will be permanently settled.”

“So that means I’m losing you? You’re not going to be around anymore?”

“Whenever there’s a weekend that I am free and F1 happens to be on, I will join you, just not as a commentator. I really hate that this has to happen”

I truly do hate it. For the past 4 years my life was about an airplane, no sleep, fast cars, statistics and Jenson. Now it will be 22 men kicking the ball for 90 minutes straight.

“I’ll come for visits too. Don’t think you’ll get rid of me that easily baby” he hugs my waist and grabs me back onto his lap.

“I wasn’t planning on it JB. Trust me.”

#jenson button x reader #ben chilwell x reader #ben chilwell #jenson button #formula 1 #football

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 11 months

Text

Crucible - a Magnus Archives fic

Martin's been having dreams.

He doesn't understand them.

Surely, if Jon had ever looked like that, with unreal wings and a crown of spinning eyes, he would have remembered.

But his memory isn't working as well as it should right now, and Jon never blinks.

Martin is afraid.

Inspired by The Watcher’s Crown by @raynecreates

Note: this is angst. Somewhere Else goes very, very wrong.

AO3

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

The dream again.

The same one he’d been having—vivid, rich, all senses engaged.

Impossible.

But maybe that was just because he’d had none in the apocalypse, right? Because Jon had protected him from them (or their memory, anyway), and who the hell knew how long it had taken to get across that mess, so his subconscious was just making up for it now.

Right?

“Did you dream again?” murmurs Jon in the morning light, so beautiful, the halo of his hair softening the side of his face visible above his pillow.

“Yeah,” says Martin, who feels sticky, who feels sweaty, who discovers the sheets are tangled around his legs as though he’d been ensnared. “Sucks.”

“I’m sorry.” Jon reaches, cups his face. “I could try to… prevent them. If you want.”

That touch is everything—warm and rough, scarred from gods-damned Perry, absolute perfection. Martin turns and kisses Jon’s palm. “No. No, it’s all right. We agreed. Normal. We try for normal.”

“Normal.” Jon repeats the word with no inflection, but he smiles, and that helps. “For whatever that word is worth to me, these days.”

“More than you think.” Martin catches Jon’s hand and pulls it closer so he can kiss each fingertip, then place them over his heart. “It’s been six months, Jon. They’re not coming after us. We’re free.”

“Then ‘normal’ wouldn’t be as big of a concern, would it?” Jon says, unblinking (but he never blinks), still smiling that way which he only ever does for Martin.

Martin has observed. That smile is his, and his alone, and he keeps it locked in the vault of his heart like his private, personal sun.

“I mean,” says Martin, “we don’t want anybody’s attention, right? So yeah. Under the radar. Normal.”

“Of course.” Jon tugs his hand loose from Martin’s, but only to caress his lips like the barest whisper, then finally gets out of bed.

Martin feels loved, and has never felt so loved.

Jon is… something in the light of dawn.

Still too thin (it seems impossible to fix that). Unexpectedly curvy, missing two ribs. Scarred here, there, everywhere, all over the place in unnecessary ways, his rich, brown skin a tapestry to the things that bit him.

He moves like a swan, Martin thinks, because he’s absurdly in love, and doesn’t give a fuck how silly it makes him.

“I have a meeting with the council today,” says Jon.

“Again?” Martin play-whines.

Brushing his long hair and tying it up, Jon smiles at him over his shoulder. “It’s every week, you know.”

“Sure,” says Martin, still play-whining. “I just get jealous of anybody taking your evenings. You know that.”

“I’ll be fantasizing about your pasta dish the whole time,” promises Jon, clean clothes in hand. “Did you name it yet?”

“Not yet? I want it to be poetic,” Martin says, because he’s very proud of his dish, because he’d figured it out via leftovers and stolen produce, because it wasn’t Spanish and wasn’t African and sure as hell wasn’t English, but somehow all of those things with a pinch of cream (but it wasn’t American or French, either) and too much pepper, and made them both sweat and laugh and mouth-breathe while chewing.

“You’ll find it, I’m sure.” And Jon is off to shower.

Martin watches until he’s gone.

The dream. He doesn’t want to remember the dream.

It was obviously a result of the damned eyepocalypse, because really.

Jon hadn’t looked like that in the apocalypse. Not even in those first, fraught minutes when Martin had run (fled staggered survived) back to the cabin and found him on the floor with glowing eyes in the air all around him, and glowing eyes all over his flesh that had torn when they opened and bled.

Martin had fallen to his knees and pulled Jon close (and the eyes felt disgusting, so horrible, but he did it anyway), and then the eyes had focused on him.

All of them, airborne and bloodied, focused on him.

Recognition.

Martin had felt it, as if the universe had sung his name.

Martin shakes it off. No, even then, he hadn’t looked like the dream.

Not that the dream was… bad, exactly? Scary as hell, sure, but Martin’s morning erection wasn’t just about shifting blood flow, and—

The shower is running.

Martin decides to push it all away and go wash his lover’s back.

Work is dull, but that’s expected, given the tasks at hand.

Construction doesn’t really suit? But Martin is strong, and it is not hard, though some of the more repetitive things do leave his mind to wander.

He’s a little jealous that Jon could just bluff his way into the local governing body with powers.

They all think they know who he is, and have for years. They all believe he has documentation, of course. Most of them even think they’ve seen it.

When in reality, Jon walked into one of those weekly meetings six months ago, informed them he was running for representative of the district of Eden, and… maybe there was a vote?

Martin’s not sure.

He’s also not sure how he feels about Jon doing that?

But it brought immediate income, which they needed, and immediate housing, which they needed even more, and—so Jon said—paperwork and identification for them would be coming soon.

Of course, that was six months ago.

They hadn’t really needed ID yet, living via cash, cheating via Jon’s powers.

It felt a little risky, but… how bad could it honestly be?

This was damn near close to their United Kingdom. No, not fully identical; there were some changes in the history of this place, and they still owned other people’s countries, like India, which was not so great, but that wasn’t what mattered.

No Fears. That was the biggie. So.

(Then why did Jon have powers?)

(Because he changed, and you know that, so shut up, Blackwood.)

The big gossip from Jon’s council right now was, of course, that the Eden District Council was supposed to be dissolved, their duties split between Westmorland and Furness authorities.

(Furnace! There’s an idea for a spicy pasta dish.)

Whatever. It didn’t seem like it would have a major effect on their lives.

Martin does his job, and laughs with his coworkers. He ensures his bosses like him all the way up the chain, and everyone who matters knows his name.

Sweaty and pleased, he goes home.

The dream.

The dream comes again, and as always, he cannot wake.

A dream of wings: two a dark and solid green, two flowing with eyes like rivers in ribbons of light.

And they drop translucent feathers that glow like those eyes, drop from those ribbons of green and lambent sight that knows and knows, and though all four wings shift as though breathing, Martin fears those glowing wings the most.

He fears so deeply what will happen should they unfurl.

“The dream again?” Jon’s hair is messier this morning, and Martin smooths it down, mindful of snags.

“Yeah,” says Martin.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help?”

Martin sighs. “Jon, I said no. I meant it.”

“I know, I know. It’s just… hard to watch you suffer. Especially when I can…”

“What? Fix it?” Martin laughs a little. “I sure hope not, because if you’ve been bouncing around people’s dreams fixing things behind my back, we’ll have to have a little talk.”

Jon smiles as though Martin is joking, and Martin smiles as though he is joking, and instead of leaving the bed, Jon slides over him, and pins him down with hands and eyes and heat, and—

(They make love? Of course they make love, because Martin’s body still hums at work, and his thoughts keep slipping back to the sense of caressing, of joining, of fingertips teasing his nerves to wild, near-painful peak, and—)

And he can’t quite… remember?

But no, he does, he does, he remembers what happened, remembers that rarest of gifts that Jon gives, which Martin will not ask for because he knows Jon almost never wants, and he does remember what they did in their creaky bed in their borrowed house in Cumbria.

It’s fuzzy because he was fuzzy. From the dream. That’s all.

And work requires full attention, anyway, what with the power tools and I-beams and whatever.

He does remember. He does.

He focuses on the good and loving feelings, the sensation of being so deeply adored (seen, yet still wanted, still loved), and gets back to work.

“Council meeting tonight,” says Jon. “I think it’s tradition now to make your spicy pasta dish.”

Martin laughs. “Already? Sure, that’s fine. Oh—I was thinking of calling it the Furnace.”

Jon laughs. It’s such a delightful sound, so rare when he isn’t talking to Martin, so real. “The Furnace! Why?”

“Heat,” says Martin, simply.

“I think you’re very close,” says Jon, tapping his chin, then returns to straightening his tie and ensuring his braid is tight. “What about… Crucible?”

Martin startles. “Crucible?”

“Not the old morality play, of course. I meant a literal crucible.” Jon’s tie pin (which isn’t an eye, but somehow makes Martin think of one, and he chooses not to think about it) glints as he turns around.

“Huh,” says Martin, who doesn’t really get why that word. “Crucible?”

“It’s just an idea. The concept’s been on my mind, lately,” says Jon. “The changes and all.”

“Changes?”

“It’s not just Eden’s council that’s breaking up. The whole empire’s structure is changing,” says Jon like that’s absolutely nothing to be concerned about, and Martin stares at him.

“What?” Martin says.

“It won’t affect you at all,” says Jon.

“What do you mean, it won’t affect me?”

“Us,” says Jon. “It won’t affect us. Isn’t that what I said?”

“No, Jon, that’s not what you said.”

“Probably because I’m thinking of all the paperwork I’ll need to do,” says Jon.

Martin frowns.

“Hey.” Jon leans in, gives Martin a kiss, and all the fluttery sense-memories from a week ago flood back as richly as they have every day since, and Martin’s tension melts. “It’s going to be okay. Do you honestly think, even here, that I would let anything happen to you?”

Martin laughs. “Jon… things do happen to people. I work in construction, I mean… something could.”

And the next kiss is—

That kiss is—

Martin is on the tube, nearly arrived at his stop for work, and doesn’t recall how he got there.

Wow.

But he does remember?

Remembers the kiss, remembers Jon pushing him gently against the wall, remembers feeling devoured and weak-kneed and worshiped, and then… walking out, and…

He even said hi to the neighbor, Mrs. MacReady.

Hadn’t he?

He had.

Except… he hadn’t?

Of course I did, he thinks, and wonders, at last, if something truly has gone wrong.

He doesn’t tell Jon about the doctor’s appointment. No point in worrying him.

Though he almost does after, as the doctor goes over his scans and confirms conclusively that there is no brain tumor, or anything like that.

“You’re a remarkably healthy man, Mister Blackwood,” she says. “Absolutely every single test we ran came back completely optimal—practically textbook, ideal. Whatever you’re doing, by all means, keep doing it.”

I’m doing the Archivist, he thinks slightly hysterically. “But then what about these… blackout moments?”

“All I can say, Mister Blackwood, is it doesn’t seem likely to be… physical. Though you show no signs of stress, the mind can be a funny thing; are you under stress?”

Yes, he thinks, and doesn’t know why. “No.”

“Do you feel safe at home?”

No, he thinks, and doesn’t know why. “Yes.”

“Well, how about this? We can refer you. I really think you’re going to be all right; tests like these don’t lie. But it won’t do any harm to see someone, anyway.”

Martin thanks her, takes the info, and leaves without making a further appointment with anyone.

The dream.

Oh, the dream.

Is he seeing more? Or maybe remembering more in that instant before opening his eyes?

Seeing the four wings (two solid, two not), but standing between them now is Jon, and the wings aren’t attached to him but they are him, somehow, some balance between mortality and godhood (how does Martin know?), and Jon in between is—

Jon is—

Martin gasps awake.

“Martin?” says Jon, raised up on his arm, eyes wide and worried. “Are you all right?”

The image. The dream.

Jon, with a crown, but not a reasonable crown, some kind of spinning wheels, one within the other, and lined with fucking eyes. Jon with some kind of rising sun behind him that cuts as it illuminates, and Martin feels seen, and Martin feels eviscerated, and Martin feels burned.

“Martin?” Jon says, looking genuinely concerned.

Martin grabs him.

Holds him tight, maybe too tight, judging by the grunt, but he won’t let go.

Can’t let go.

“Martin,” Jon whispers, and holds him back, and kisses gently along his jaw, and tries to soothe with fingers in his hair. “Hey. Hey, look at me. What’s going on?”

“I don’t think I’m okay,” says Martin, softly.

Jon goes stiff. “You are. You have to be.”

“I… I don’t know that I am. Something’s been… I feel like I’m losing time. And I…”

Jon relaxes again, tension gone. “And that worries you,” he says, soft. “I understand. I’m sorry.”

Well, that’s not what he expected. “What?” says Martin.

Jon kisses him softly. “We’re both going to be late. Come on.”

“But—Jon, what the hell did you mean by that?”

Jon won’t tell him. He won’t, peeling off Martin’s pajamas (“Jon, really, we’ve got to talk about this,”) and pulling him into their walk-in shower.

It’s not making love, and it’s not even sexual, but it is intimate, and precious, to be cleaned by one who loves, who is loved, and Martin stops asking.

Not wondering. But asking.

He can ask later.

He will ask later.

And on the way out the door, Jon kisses his cheek. “It’s almost over. I promise, Martin—you’re safe.” And he goes, ignoring Martin’s new questions, headed toward the tube.

Martin can’t stop seeing dream-Jon’s eyes while he works.

They’re everywhere. (They’re nowhere.)

They’re watching him from just to the side, only gone when he turns to see. (They’re not there.)

Inhuman eyes.

Gleaming green magic star-eyes, brighter than the sun, burning without pain, looking inside without slicing him open.

Except he feels sliced open.

The wings. The falling feathers.

The wings in front were the not-human ones (which makes no sense because humans don’t have wings so why would solid green wings be human?).

Like… Jon’s making a choice, or… some balance is slipping out of hand, or… he’s being overrun, or…

“Look out!” he hears, and with the rest of his coworkers, looks up.

The crane at the top of this building has just fucked up.

They all see it happening.

See the I-beams, the bricks, the sacks of concrete—

See the crane itself, tipping over the edge of the roof and taking all the nearby materials with it.

Is there time to run?

Martin doesn’t know. He tries. They all try. Of course they try, but the ground beneath them shakes (does it?) hard enough to knock every last one of them off their feet, and there are screams and there is panic, and Martin clearly sees the swelling shadow of whatever is about to end his life all around him before his mind goes blank in crushing noise and terror.

Martin lives.

No one else does.

Somehow, the beams fell near and not on, and somehow, the bricks missed as if poorly aimed, and somehow, the crane—which had been about to land right fucking on him—hit hoist-first and angled just so, crashing down so he lay curled in the crux of its joint, miraculously uninjured.

He’s covered in dust. He cannot stop shaking.

There are sirens. Shouts. His ears ring. He’s dazed.

But before they drag him away—

Before they get him to medical personnel and begin the mad battery of tests demanded by lawyers to ensure he can’t sue—

He sees what’s left of the crane operator.

Sees the movement in the cab, the wriggling he would recognize anywhere, any time, and will to the end of his days.

The driver, who was crushed when the crane fell down, was filled to the brim with worms.

Everyone tells him his panic attack only makes sense, and nobody blames him for screaming, and he has no idea how long it is before he’s finally discharged to go home.

Jon is waiting for him there.

Martin knows Jon is there before he gets to the door, which makes no sense, because he should have come to the hospital.

There is no way Jon didn't know what happened. Why hadn't he come? (Because you were all right.)

No, that's not good enough, why hadn't he come? (Because something held him up.)

What could have done that? Martin knows damn well paperwork wouldn't have done that. Some stupid meeting wouldn't have done that. Only a big thing, the biggest thing, could have done that.

And he knew you were all right. (I am not all right.)

He knows Jon is waiting, feels him, sees green light emanating from every door and window when he closes his eyes, though it isn’t there when they’re open.

So, Martin reasons. Either he’s gone insane, or Jon is…

Jon is not okay?

Martin’s throat is tight as he opens their door, eyes burning, heart sinking.

Jon is okay. Jon has to be okay. (Are we going to have to kill John? he had asked himself, asked his other self in his own domain, and the answer had been yes.)

“Jon?”

“Come in, Martin.”

It’s a gentle tone, calming. Calm.

It shouldn’t be setting off alarm bells, but it is.

Martin pauses on his way to the living room. He gets a knife from the kitchen, tucks it into the back of his belt, and approaches.

Jon is waiting by the fireplace, which he’s got warm and crackling. He looks normal (no wings). In a suit with a day’s rumple, his tie untied, his top buttons unbuttoned (only two eyes).

He looks up and smiles, and Martin knows.

He’s seen that smile before.

Seen it, before he had to do the worst thing to save the whole world.

“Oh, Jon,” he says, breathing too fast. “What have you done?”

“Nothing terrible, I assure you,” says Jon, standing and approaching.

Martin reaches back and finds the knife gone. He stiffens.

“I let you do that last time because I thought it would help,” says Jon, sliding his arms around Martin’s waist. “But it didn’t. They all came with us, and it was all starting again. I know you don’t realize. You couldn’t feel it. Not like I could.”

“Jon, what have you done?” says Martin, louder, angered at the assertion that the hardest thing he’d ever done in his life had been allowed (no matter how true).

“Do you want me to show you?” Jon’s kiss is soft (it’s the same, how can there be terrible things when his kiss is the same).

“You’re going to, anyway,” says Martin, not as sharply as he wanted. (Are we going to have to kill John? and he’d had to, he’d had to, he—)

Jon smiles.

It’s like the rising sun.

It’s impossible to look away from, impossible to see in only three dimensions. Impossible.

Martin can feel himself… melting. Cracking? Changing?

(Are we going to have to—)

(No.)

And then Jon is the dream.

It is so much more than the dream.

And they are in the cottage but not, and they are on the ground but not, and the translucent eye-wings are around and through Martin and sliding everywhere, and he gasps, and stares, and he can see.

“I like ‘crucible,’ because that’s what I did,” says Jon, who is holy, who is too much, who would be melting Martin’s skin off his bones unless consciously choosing to not. “I made a deal with them. With the Web, primarily, but with them all. Either I would drag them to destruction… or we would do this right.”

“Right?” whispers Martin, and feels horrified, but vaguely, distantly, like he’s forgetting how.

And then, he sees it all.

Only for a moment. He can’t do more than that, or he’ll break, his mind snapping, but a moment is enough.

Of a power like a net or a blanket or a spill sliding smoothly out from Penrith, Cumbria, and it spreads like light and it spreads like oil, and Martin can see—

Can see that the members of the Eden Council were changed, each chosen by Jon to be marked as he wanted, and directed, and pointed like a gun—

Can see they were chosen to join him in a version of the mass ritual that was so much worse than Jonah’s because Jon learned from Jonah’s mistakes—

Can see the fear gripping one human after another, each of them freezing where they are, and then, crying, going about their day, continuing their lives, but choking on unending fear—

Can see that Jon has somehow forced the Entities to change.

“This is balanced,” Jon explains, and yes, it is too late, and Martin can see that killing him wouldn’t stop it, and he’d have to go on some kind of murder spree to take out the whole Council, and even then it might not stop it, because Jon learned from Jonah’s mistakes , and this cannot be undone.

And touching Jon back feels like taking handfuls of fire and want, and even as Martin is burned, and he shouts, he pulls him closer because Jon is what he needs.

There is nothing else. Maybe there never was.

He can’t even remember why he was upset a moment ago.

“You don’t need to be,” says Jon. “Never again. Nothing will ever hurt you. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Jon,” says Martin, and means it with all of himself, and feels the (oil light poison) power of Jon’s will washing over and around, but the fear doesn’t reach him, doesn’t touch him, and Martin remembers to be upset for the world for all of one second before it’s gone.

Martin loves Jon.

Jon loves Martin.

Everything is good.

Martin is safe.

Jon is safe.

Maybe… maybe everything works out, here, in somewhere else.

Together.

One way or another, together.

Martin settles against his god and closes his eyes, because Jon can see it all, and Martin doesn’t have to, that is the way things should be.

#tma #tma fic #the magnus archives #angst #jonmartin #monster!jon #martin blackwood #magnuspod #magpod fic #magnus archives fic #tma fanfiction #somewhere else #tma spoilers #Evil Jonathan sims

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kalcifers-blog · 2 months

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TMA *EGOS*

PLEASE EXPLAIN MORE

Okay I'm assuming that you're asking me to give what TMA Avatar each of the Egos would be which I'll go into detail here!!! With!!!! Some bonus Picrews!! If you have any further questions don't be afraid to reach out in the ask box xxx

Before I begin I do want to mention that these are just my own thoughts!!! I would absolutely love to hear what everyone thinks/if you have alternative ideas to suggest as well :DDD

(For starters I think all of the Egos have elements of The Lonely to them- they all feel isolated in their lives for whatever reason)

Chase Brody (The Eye) - I think Chase is so unbelievably Eye coded and he's VERY Archivist coded in my brain, giving off Season 4 Jonathan Sims if you get me. The Beholding is all about paranoia, feeling like your being watched and this insatiable need to know more- which Chase pretty much checks every box in my brain (especially after Anomaly Found). Chase does have elements of The Corruption and The Buried which I think would mostly just because of The Eyes effects of his life.

Marvin The Magnificent (The Desolation) - to me I've always gotten the impression that Marvin's magic reflects his mental wellbeing and he didn't gain it naturally- a younger Marvin to me has always read as a Carrie White or a Sydney Novak type character- someone with such intensely strong powers that its only a matter of time before he destroys something- i think the thing it destroys the most is Marvin himself though, its harmed everything around him and has probably left him isolated and alone. The Desolation isn't just fire it's the destruction of everything it doesn't care for death it just drives to squeeze the pain out of you. Which for me is exactly how I've always imagined Marvin, the fact that he doesn't want to hurt others would only feed into it more.

JackieBoy Man (The Vast) - Now with Jackie he's always seemed to be the hardest character to pinpoint for me personally. But at the end I thought The Vast was the only appropriate entity for him, he's an odd mix of Crew and Fairchild where he's constantly chasing down the thrill of open air, of falling into nothingness. He also to me seems like he'd be the one Ego who'd be the most aware of how insignificant their lives are in the grand scheme of the entirety of the universe (plus as a bonus his comic is the only one this far to reference the grand universe and the sheer scale of everything.

Jameson Jackson (The Web) - JJ is so interesting to me because to me he's both puppet and puppet master. He's a people pleaser and I would go as far to say that he takes it the point no one ever truly knows who he really is, like Martin Blackwood, he's all smiles and kind gestures but he treats everyone the same, it's only when you take a step back do you realise just how surface level his gestures are. I don't think he's a bad person however, I just think he pretends to care a lot more than he actually does. He's manipulated but he knows it, hes the quickest to spot the signs of manipulation because he's seen it and he's played with the same strings- that doesn't make him immune to manipulation and I think part of him is aware of just how caught up he is in the web himself.

Henrik Von Schneeplestien (The End/The Spiral) - Henrik was almost impossible for me to settle on because there's quite a few he could fall into (I could even make an argument he'd also belong in The Eye or Corruption) but I think his true calling is The End. I see him carry death unknowingly to the people around him, he spends so much time saving lives to counter act it somehow, he can't save everyone but if he can help people just as much as he accidentally kills others then maybe he can live with himself- it obviously takes a hold of him and he's eventually unable to keep operating in this way which is where The Spiral comes in, I think the constant death surrounding him will eventually break him and unknown to him and everyone around him- the signs for this were all clear as day.

Antisepticeye (The Stranger) - Anti is not human, anti has never been human and him trying to convince you that he is one is nothing short of uncanny. He's not had the life experiences to know how humans are supposed to move, his body consists of that which is important for a human to survive but none of it works right. He kills people and robs their lives and their faces and mocks you with them. He sends people into paranoia because they know that something is wrong but they just can't tell what. He is a mask of humanity worn by a thing that doesn't know how to be human.

BONUS: Robbie The Zombie (The Corruption) - Robbie was the easiest BC yk, zombie. But I would like to think that he didn't die and come back. His zombification was slow and it started when he was alive, watching and feeling his body begin the decomposition process while he was still very much alive and aware and feeling. It slowly but surely robbed him of not just his life but his identity and he slowly started to lose himself within the rot of The Corruption as he progressed.

PICREW LINK

#jacksepticeye #jse egos #jse #jacksepticeye egos #marvin the magnificent #jackieboy man #chase brody #henrik von schneeplestein #robbie the zombie #Antisepticeye #jameson jackson #the magnus archives #tma #tma avatars #kal rambles #kal writes #kalcifers blog

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heliads · 2 years

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ok i think i have a plot but feel free to change anything you want!

so, i would like to request fem!reader x lydia martin, around season 2, i guess, when stiles, scott and allison already knew about everything but lydia was kept in the dark. so, she ends up being reader's lab partner and is really amazed by how smart and kind she is, they develop a connection really quick and lydia feels like she can be herself with reader

and one day some sort of attack happens in the school (they always happen in the school lol) and when it comes at them, reader holds lydia's hand and hides her face in her neck and lydia just feels incredibly powerfull. like, she always had to be smaller than she really is, to be this fragile little girl for her partners to like her, but here is reader, trusting her to protect her, and she feels strong and capable for the first time because now she has her girl to protect and she definetely will. after that, she just activates protective girlfriend mode and they live happily ever after!

well, i guess that's it, thank you <3

yes i am using this fic as an excuse to complain about my current chem class. it just makes the inner dialogue more rich trust me on this

masterlist

Is it a terrible thing? You know, to be aware of the fact that the people you value the most are keeping secrets from you? Lydia thinks it might be. She believes she has never known a pain so bitter as this one. At the moment, it is the worst agony of her life, and although it will not stay that way forever, the horror of it is enough to sink her current days into tragedy nonetheless.

Contrary to popular belief, Lydia Martin is not an airhead. She is conscious of what happens around her, to the point where her friends hiding things from her is something impossible to be ignored. Lydia knows that there are subjects they refuse to broach around her, topics that they are all piercingly familiar with yet can’t trust her with in the slightest.

Lydia knows all this and bites her tongue so often it bleeds and tints her lips a most becoming red. It is far easier to keep up the act of the airhead, and so she does. At some point, she’s going to reach her breaking point and react so violently no one will ever be the same, but she’s not there yet. With all hope, she won’t ever be there.

Or, she wouldn’t have to reach that point if her friends would just tell her what was going on. Lydia has noticed small things, discrepancies in the dynamics in the friend group. She’s not blind to the way Scott McCall started acting strangely out of nowhere, nor the way Stiles Stilinski started covering for him more than usual. Even the fact that Allison Argent has somehow gotten wrapped up in their drama is not beyond Lydia’s awareness.

Who is not able to share in their secrecy, though? Who is the one person on the outskirts? Why, none but Lydia herself. Despite the years she’s spent knowing the two boys, despite the fact that she was the first one to reach out to Allison when the other girl first arrived at Beacon Hills High School, it is Lydia who must suffer the consequences of not knowing enough. It is infuriating, especially for someone who always prides herself on the information she carries.

It is obvious that there are secrets to be had. Something strange is going on in Beacon Hills, something that, despite her friends’ efforts to keep her out of it, involves Lydia. They’re all wrapped up in this with some great and dangerous string. At some point, it had to be expected that Lydia would start unraveling it.

What is clear now is that something is wrong. Stiles and Scott spend more time looking over their shoulders than paying attention in class, and Lydia swears she’s seen Allison walking around with a few knives tucked into her backpack. This is going to break down eventually, it’s just frustrating to not be in the loop when everyone else seems to know so much.

At the end of the day, though, what can Lydia do except go along with it? She stays awake most nights due to a series of dreams that make little sense when she manages to remember them. She answers Allison’s questions tolerably well when the other girl inquires as to the source and material of Lydia’s seeming visions. They’re toeing the edge of admitting that there is something going on, but all the enlightened ones still seem hesitant to let Lydia join their ranks.

It gnaws at her as the days go by. How can her friends expect to pull Lydia out of nowhere, shoot a few mysterious questions her way, and then leave as if nothing had happened? Lydia is not blind. She sees the blood tracked in with the mud on Scott’s floor. She sees the furrows in Allison’s brow when her family starts asking too many questions.

Something is happening here, something bad. If Lydia doesn’t find out what, she’s going to end up as another one of the countless bodies littering the streets of the town. Lydia knows the deaths are here, she sees them everywhere. If no one else seems to notice the corpses as they go to school each day, isn’t that a sign that Lydia should be heard and trusted?

Yet each sundown finds Lydia alone without a confidant spilling all, and every morning finds her waking up after another nightmare of tortuous events that aren’t among her memories, but seem to make up her future. She tries to tell Allison or Scott or Stiles, but nobody listens. After all, who could ever believe that Beacon Hills’ resident queen bee could ever have a cohesive thought in her life?

It’s infuriating. Lydia is used to fighting the war against her image, of having to convince everyone a thousand times over that yes, she is smarter than they think, but she didn’t expect that this round of enemies would involve her closest friends.

All she can do at this point is try to keep pushing, pretend there’s a future out there in which Lydia is no longer Lydia Martin, the Outsider, but something else. Lydia the Friend. Lydia the Trusted. Lydia, who people can look at and know that she’s as much in the In Crowd as she most desperately pretends to be.

She’s in chemistry right now, hateful class, and about to lose her mind because of it. How can one possibly put their mind towards memorizing long lists of polyatomic ions when they know their friends are in the back of the room whispering about secrets they wouldn’t tell Lydia in a thousand years? She tries not to let it bother her too much. People always have reasons for these sorts of things, don’t they? Perhaps the reasons will come out later, or perhaps never at all.

Regardless, there is a time and a place for such worries, and this is not it. All fears must be left at the chem class door, for new ones must surely take their place. Right now, Lydia is more focused on making sure she doesn’t mess up yet another lab report, although that’s not really a peak concern.

After all, why would she have to worry when she’s got such a stellar lab partner? Although lab partners were assigned randomly, Lydia still has to fight the urge to scream words of gratitude at the heavens every time she rolls up to class and finds Y/N L/N sitting there and waiting for her to arrive. Y/N L/N, who is an angel in human form. Y/N, who somehow sees only the best in Lydia despite seeing enough of Lydia’s worst. Y/N, who would never keep a secret from Lydia like Lydia’s supposed best friends are doing at the moment.

No, Lydia couldn’t be happier to have Y/N as a lab partner. They work together perfectly, washing glassware and measuring chemicals as if they had been born in unison. You could go your whole life without finding someone who can just click with you like a puzzle piece you didn’t know was missing until the gap is mended. Lydia is desperately happy to have crossed paths with Y/N so early in her life.

Y/N flashes her a smile as soon as Lydia takes a seat next to her.

“Ready for today?” She asks, one eyebrow raised.

Lydia nods, pulling out her lab notebook. It’s been carefully organized, of course, the procedure written out in full and the required blanks for answers starred so Lydia won’t forget to write down what she must. Labs are both a chore and a treasure– the paperwork is less fun, to be sure, but something about dashing carefully measured chemicals in flasks never ceases to disappoint.

Especially not when Lydia’s got a real friend by her side. No, Lydia could do just fine here forever, just the two girls and their muffled laughter as they fit inside jokes around complex solutions. Lydia has memorized two sights by the end of the afternoon: the way Y/N’s eyes shine when she smiles and the bright green of their perfectly produced potassium trioxalatoferrate (III) trihydrate sitting there on the benchtop.

Looking back, Lydia can suppose that she was distracted that day. It was a good lab– lots of color changes in solutions and exciting new chemicals to carefully pour into others, but more than anything, she was happy. It’s easy to be distracted by the people you care about, even when you swear you’re so locked into misery that you’ll never think about another thing again.

So, when Lydia looks up and realizes that Allison, Scott, Stiles, and for some reason that boy Isaac Lahey who keeps hanging around ominously have all disappeared from the chem lab room, she can’t honestly say when that happened. Nor why she knows without a shadow of a doubt that it’s for something bad. Lydia can only say what she feels, which is a warning deep in her bones. It traces over her in cold fingers of ice, promising only death, wanting only suffering, and it is coming directly towards them.

The screams start about half a second after these revelations hit Lydia. Before she knows it, the teacher is frantically turning off hot plates, and everyone is cowering under their desks or running for the halls. Lydia can hear frantic murmurs, something about how there’s an intruder in the school or a wild animal attack on the premises or some other incident that really isn’t good.

Y/N grabs Lydia’s hand, dragging her out of her haze. “What are we going to do?” The other girl asks.

Lydia doesn’t know that she’s ever seen Y/N so panicked. Y/N always has her stuff together, so to speak– genuine smile, calm nerves, capable mind despite the toughest labs, so it’s a shocker to see her in such hysterics now.

Lydia may not know what’s going on right now, but the problem she can solve is how to make Y/N feel better. So, she squares her shoulders and squeezes Y/N’s hand back just as hard.

“We’re going to get out of here. Alright? If something is wrong in the school, then we’re going to get out of the school. We can come back later, once it’s safe.”

Y/N nods once, the movement harsh. “Okay. Should I get my bag?”

“It can’t hurt,” Lydia decides. She’s seen enough problems happen in this school to know that if you leave your backpack unattended during a crisis, odds are it’s going to show up later clawed to shreds or otherwise dismembered in the name of keeping her friends’ secrets.

Once they’ve quickly gathered their belongings, Lydia guides Y/N out into the hall. The throngs of terrified students have largely died down by now, leaving instead an unsettling silence. The sound of shuffling footsteps comes from somewhere, but Lydia can’t tell what direction. She chooses instead to ignore it, and hurriedly walks with Y/N down towards a nearby stairwell. Their hands are still clasped, and neither girl wants to let go of the other, so they stay like that for as long as they can. Two souls together, looking for any excuse to be closer than they should.

The shuffling sound grows, and Lydia abandons grace, opting instead to sprint for the stairwell. Just as they close the door behind them, Lydia sees the silhouette of something enter the hall. It must have seen them, because it starts to slowly pace down the rows of lockers towards the stairwell entry. Judging by the shrieking sound currently wailing down the hall at them, the thing out there must be extending a claw to tear a long line across the walls of lockers. Lydia has seen enough similar ruins in the aftermaths of similar ‘animal attacks’ to wonder if it’s the same thing.

Whatever it is, the shadow in the hall has stopped outside the door to the stairwell. Lydia can see the outline of it in the frosted glass of the door window. Larger than a man, it twitches strangely as it moves, and she swears that there’s a glowing coal in the place of an eye that is looking directly at them.

Y/N is terrified, and presses closer to Lydia in the silence of the stairwell. Lydia casts her gaze around desperately for something, anything to do, and her eyes land on an abandoned mop and bucket a few feet away. A janitor far wiser than either of them must have dropped them in a rush to get out. Lydia stretches out a trembling hand and grabs the mop, wielding it like a spear. It’s not much, but it’s all she has.

Lydia waits one second, two, three, and when the thing outside breaks through the glass of the window in an attempt to reach them, she’s ready. Y/N screams, and that’s Lydia’s cue to stab the handle of the mop as hard as she can towards that awful glowing eye. Lydia may lose her mind over visions she cannot understand, but she’ll tell one free of charge right now. Either this thing backs off of its own free will, or she’ll give it a future full of death for it and it alone.

She rears back her arm to strike again, but there’s no need. The monster outside is scrabbling away, claws clicking on the linoleum tiles as it hurries to get away. It’s most likely headed for prey that doesn’t try to fight back.

That marks a difference from Lydia, who will fight back every time. Y/N looks up at her, and Lydia wonders what she must see– a smart girl, a brave girl, someone more than what everyone else seems to think. Lydia wonders this, but she knows one thing for certain: with Y/N, she can take on the world.

Y/N lets out a shaky laugh. “Wow. I think you’re my new favorite superhero.”

Lydia snorts. “I’m no hero.”

“You’re mine,” Y/N says matter-of-factly.

It makes Lydia’s heart ripple with warmth, a sort of happiness she hasn’t known in quite some time. Y/N takes Lydia’s hand again– they’d dropped contact in the brief fight, but it’s good to know that Y/N is just as desperate for that sort of touch as Lydia is– and jerks her head towards the stairs leading down.

“What do you say we head out? I think I’m just fine with steering clear of this place for a while.”

Lydia nods fervently. “Let’s go somewhere safe. And fun.”

Let the rest of her friends handle the thing in the halls. If they wish to protect their secrets without Lydia, they can protect the school without her as well. Lydia is content to go with Y/N wherever she pleases, and no one can convince her otherwise.

requested by @maximoffgxrl, i hope you enjoy!

teen wolf tag list: @thatfangirl42, @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @rafecameronswhore, @bellabadacadabra, @watchreadfangirlrepeat, @23victoria

#lydia martin #lydia martin imagines #lydia martin x reader #lydia martin oneshot #teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #teen wolf x reader #teen wolf oneshot #teen wolf lydia #teen wolf lydia imagines #teen wolf lydia x reader #teen wolf lydia oneshot

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