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çĽćĽ / Permanent Vacation
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Hey guys! My new comic âWoodwardâ is now getting itâs start on Tapas! Itâs a story about queer kids and the fae, and trying to find your way home. The first two pages are out now, and the next one comes out on Friday. Please go check it out!Â
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Looks for when u and ur childhood best friend slash love interest whoâs also a fae are going to fuck up the gentry.
Locked Doors
Fandom: The Magnus Archives
Chapter 2 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what. Â
Read on AO3
Michael didnât want to go to a hospital, and Jon agreed that it would probably be best to not deal with doctors obsessing over someone who had been presumed dead for seven years. Luckily, Tim apparently knew a good amount of wilderness first aid, so after a slightly hectic few minutes trying to find the emergency kit, the current assistant was setting the former assistantâs hand in gauze while Jon had run off to inform the rest of the staff about the current situation. Couldnât have someone accost the stranger wandering the institute, not again, even if Michael insisted that he would prefer to be out of everyoneâs hair as soon as possible.Â
He would prefer to just be done with the Magnus Institute.Â
He peered down at Tim as the other man wrapped his hand. Tim was frowning, but the anger from earlier seemed to have vanished from his expression, replaced with a stern focus. Not exactly an approachable look, but that had never stopped Michael before.
âCan I ask you a question?â He said, leaning forward and hiss slightly as Tim tugged a bit too hard on his hand.Â
âWhat?â Tim responded, not looking up. Michael sighed.Â
âItâs sort of a weird request but⌠can you tell me what I look like?â This did catch Timâs attention, and he looked up at Michael quizzically.Â
âWhat?â Michael glanced aware under the gaze, grinning nervously.
âI havenât exactly been able to use a proper mirror in a while⌠itâs been awhile since Iâve seen myself without the distortion ruining the image,â He thought for a moment. âI canât even remember what it looked like to be honest. I mostly just remember enough neon to be nauseating,â Tim hummed, before dropping Michaelâs hand and standing up. Michael frowned, realizing he might be asking too much. âItâs fine if you donât want to tell me, I know itâs weird-â Tim waved his own hand, running the other one over his face and through his hair.Â
âItâs⌠itâs fine. I can tell you. Youâre pretty average looking, I guess? You got this blond mop of hair, youâre pretty pale, greyish eyes. I knew about ten guys that could practically be your double from when I was at uni. The weirdest bit is that you donât even look that different?Â
âYour handâs normal, far as I can tell, and your voice doesnât give me a migraine anymore. You just look like a normal guy. The sweater is a little weird, but itâs not as flashy as I think it was,â Michael looked down at what he was wearing. They were the same clothes from his journey into the mountains, but they were definitely different. They did look older, to start. His jeans were ripped where they hadnât been. His sweater was worn at the wrists and he figured the coat heâd attempted to lend Gertrude was frozen on a cliff somewhere. He looked back at Tim, and was startled to find the assistant staring intently at him with an odd look that he couldnât place. Tim turned away.
âYour hand should be fine for now, itâs not a bad break. Try not to use it for awhile if you can.â
âThank you,â
âAre you really Michael?âÂ
âWhat?â
âAre you really Michael Shelley? Or is this just some weird trick to lure us into a false sense of security. Those fucking clowns are up to something, woudnât be that surprised if you were working together,
âThe circus? No, I hate the circus-â He cut himself off. Did he hate the circus? He hadnât actually known about the unknowing before Gertrude decided to feed him to delusion incarnate. Did he hate the Stranger, or was it simply remnants of a thing lodged into him?
No. No he hated it. He could remember that much. The distortion had wanted him to interfere, but so had he. It was a ritual, like the ones Gertrude had been after. If he could throw a wrench in its workings, then perhaps no one else would receive his fate. But that isnât exactly how that small thought buried in his mind had been realized. His face hardened.Â
âI hate the Stranger and the Spiral and every other so-called god. My name is Michael Shelley, and if that isnât who I am then I would prefer someone to let me know now before I get any hope back. Now,â He stood, moving towards the door, âthank you so much for the first aid, but Iâd really like to get out of here as soon as possible.â
âIâm not sure thatâs a good idea,â Tim said, voice unsure, glancing between Michael and the door.
âItâs a wonderful idea,â Michael ground out, and left the room. He did not slam the door behind him, but the thought crossed his mind. He had never been one for slamming doors. Perhaps now was the time to start.
Seeing Elias Bouchard in the Hallway before the elevator back up to the library was a bit of a shock.
Well, not a shock. It wasnât that surprising to see the head of an institute standing in a commonly walked area of said institute. But Michael was not prepared for it in the least. He stumbled and felt himself pale slightly at the sight of the man standing so nonchalantly. This man was a murderer. A direct conduit of the eye.
Michael had met Elias when heâd first started at the institute. The older man had been alright, if a little bit unpleasant to be around. He was intimidating but only in the way that a university student who drinks and parties on weekends is intimidating to someone in secondary school. Which is to say, not that intimidating once you realize how much of an idiot the man is.Â
The Elias standing in front of him wasnât an idiot. Heâd grown a lot around the time he became the head of the institute. He looked sharp despite his age, and his eyes bore into Michael. After a moment he smiled, and his grin was nearly reflective.Â
âMr.Shelley! How wonderful of you come back to us! Weâve missed you,â Michael had seen a hunter before. The distortion had enjoyed trapping one or two in its mazes, giggling as they would chase each other or his other prey around, not noticing that they were being devoured themselves. The expression on the other man was far more predatory than any heâd ever seen on those animalistic creatures. Michael felt his mouth go dry, but it shifted into his usual friendly workplace smile anyway.Â
âHello Mr.Bouchard,â He said, âI was actually just leaving. Wouldnât want to be in your way,â But neither of them moved. The hallway was small, and while Michael was lanky enough that he could have definitely fit on either side of Elias, it felt as if any attempt would end poorly for him. Though he was probably just paranoid. When Elias just continued to look at him, he continued. âActually, I did want to talk to Jon before I left, have you seen him?âÂ
âOh, yes, heâs talking to Martin right now. Explaining everything so the poor man doesnât jump out of his skin when he sees you. Wouldnât want a repeat of what happened with Tim no would we?â The manâs tone was far too light for how sick Michael was starting to feel. âEspecially now that youâll be working together,âÂ
âWhat?âÂ
âOh, well of course! I donât blame you for not thinking of work, Iâm sure your headâs still a little fuzzy, but you never actually resigned. And youâll need work anyway to get back on your feet. The archival assistant position has actually gotten a higher salary since youâve been gone. Now, if you could just come up to my office and sign some paperworkâŚâ His voice turned to static in Michaelâs ears. What a cruel joke. To still be trapped somewhere after finally escaping hell⌠but the more he thought about it, the more he sensed a lie.Â
He remembered thinking about quitting back before Gertrude had started pretending to value him. He had thought a lot about finding a less high stress archiving job, maybe with more people his age, but heâd never been able to bring himself to do it. The spiral had known how the eye trapped people, not terribly unlike how it trapped people in their own broken minds. He didnât feel that now. There was no reluctance, no hesitation. The sick feeling in his stomach was simply because this man had far too much blood on his hands for anyone to be comfortable talking to him. The eye didnât have hold on him anymore.
Perhaps he could thank Gertrude for something after all. He grinned back.
âActually, Iâm afraid I wonât be returning to work. Seven years is quite the long vacation, and Iâm afraid Iâve forgotten most of what my position entailed aside from being condescended to, and I donât miss it. Besides, you wouldnât want any lingering distortion to mix up your carefully organized files, right?â He leveled a stare at Elias, trying to ignore the slight way his unbandaged hand was twitching. âIâd like to find Jon now, if you wouldnât mind.âÂ
âTry the kitchen,â And then Elias walked away, leaving Michael alone once more.
Jon was not in the kitchen. There was, however, a woman that heâd never seen before making tea, who jumped slightly when he opened the door. She seemed a bit younger than him, or maybe just much smaller, with brightly dyed hair wearing a graphic tea. Heâd say the spiral had influenced her fashion choices, but she looked far too serious for that to be the case.Â
âAh, um, hello,â She started, âUh⌠who are you? I donât think youâre supposed to be down here,â She spoke with an unsure amount of authority.Â
âIâm Michael. Michael Shelley,â He waited for the flinch or gasp of some sort, but it didnât come. She just continued to look at him with a sort of sneering disinterest. There was something in her eye that almost seemed familiar, but he chose to ignore it. So Jon hadnât gotten to explain things to her yet. Well. Heâd love a conversation with someone who wasnât familiar with the monster, and it wasnât like he was lying. Not completely.
âI know Jon,â He said, trying to sound appeasing, âI needed his help with something so I thought Iâd stop by,â She didnât look convinced.Â
âNot to be rude mate, but you look like you just got hit by a bus,â Michael laughed in response.Â
âHonestly I feel like I might have been. I uh, had a bit of an accident this morning,â He held up his wrapped hand, âA regular one of your institute scary stories I think,â Michael could see when she closed off. They stood in silence for a moment, him smiling nervously while moving on the balls of his feet, and her holding her fresh cup of tea looking like sheâd lash out if he made any sudden movements. In the end she just shook her head and sighed.Â
âI think thereâs a cot in the store room if you need a place to crash for a bit. Doubt anyone would try to stop you.â She said finally, before taking a long sip of tea and walking out. She mightâve mumbled something rude under her breath, but Michael just nodded absently and stood there for a minute, before turning.Â
Michael didnât care about talking to Jon now. He really needed to get out of this institute.Â
Two days later, they sat across from each other at a coffee shop, both of their reflections looking perfectly natural in the well cleaned window. They had gotten chances to talk in the past couple of days, mainly right outside the institute, so it was nice to just sit in a peaceful environment. Jon had gotten himself the blackest tea that Michael had personally ever seen, and heâd gotten Michael a hot chocolate and a sandwich. Michael stared at the spiral shape of the whipped cream before breaking it with his spoon. They talked for a while, mainly pleasantries, both obviously unsure where to start the serious conversation. Jon broke the peace first.Â
âElias is sending me abroad,â Jon said and a small part of Michael panicked.Â
âIâm not coming,â The words burst out of him before he could think about any other reason Jon might be telling him this.
âWhat? No, I didnât mean⌠I wouldnât ask you to come. Iâm not that dense, I donât expect you to come, of course not. I justâŚâ Jon trailed off for a moment âI know youâve been sleeping outside these past few nights.â It wasnât Michaelâs fault he didnât have enough cash for anything more than a park bench. At least itâs spring, heâd thought. But it wasnât like he wanted Jon to know that, even if the knowing was unavoidable.Â
âI-â
âMichael,â The blond man sighed and looked down.Â
âYeah. Yeah.âÂ
âI didnât want to push you, because I know this is hard,â Michael couldnât stop the slight chuckle that escaped him. Jon smiled at him softly and continued. âYou are probably going to have to reenter society eventually? Basira still has some pull with the police, I really donât think youâll experience too much trouble in that department. What I wanted to talk to you about is if youâd want to stay at my flat for awhile?â
âItâs fine if you donât, I know youâre not exactly comfortable with⌠me⌠yet,â Jon held up a hand when Michael began to protest and continued, âbut Iâll probably be out of the house for a month or so anyway and Iâd really appreciate it if you could keep an eye on things,â They both knew that wasnât the reason. Michael could tell that Jon simply wanted him somewhere safe and to be able to check in, and for him to feel like he was at least somewhat in control of his new normal. Perhaps not all archivists were good liars after all. âAnd Michael?â Jon reached over and gently touched Michaelâs injured hand with his own recently scarred one. âIâd like to be friends,â Michael froze. Those words sounded so familiar. Like they were his in a distant, broken way. They felt safe. They felt true. Michael smiled, perhaps the first purely genuine smile heâd shown in the past few days. In the past few years. And he knew his answer wasnât a lie.Â
âIâd love to.â

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Woodward
Prologue |Previous Chapter | Next Chapter | read on ao3
Chapter 9: Revel in ItÂ
James and Pieridae were in a predicament, to say the least. For the first time in four years, they were back in the Queenâs courtroom, kneeling side by side.Â
They werenât in trouble, not yet. But the queen didnât look all that pleased with them either.Â
âDo you know why youâre here, Pieridae?â
âNo, my queen.â The queen sighed, and the boys winced.
âDo you know what day it is?â
âUh⌠Wednesday?â
âTry again.â It never failed to amaze James how much annoyance could go into such softly spoken words.
âOh! Itâs my birthday!â
âCorrect, and this-â
âWait,but, Mother,â Pieridae cocked his head to the side, âYou never celebrate my birthday. Iâve been planning my own revels since I was seven.â Maybe James imagined it, but he couldâve sworn her eye twitched.
âYes, Pieridae, and that is exactly what I wanted to talk to you about. You are turning sixteen today, and Iâm assuming you have a revel planned for tonight, and I wanted to discuss proper decorum going forward.â Pieridae scoffed and James shot him a panicked look.
âDecorum? Mother, itâs a party.â
âWell, it should still be a party with rules. And as the crown prince of the spring court, those rules should be especially important to you. Your siblings already know this, you should too.â Pieridae rolled his eyes. James was going to strangle him. James still hadnât gotten a chance to meet Pieridaeâs other high royal siblings, but Pieridae had once explained âTheyâre dicks, you probably wouldnât like them anyway.âÂ
âAlright, my queen, lay them on me.âÂ
âFirst of all, you should not be participating in the dancing, unless it is with one or two trusted partners.â
âAh, what?â
âSecondly, you should be on your throne the entire time you are not dancing.â
âMother, I donât have a throne,â
âThen make one. Following that, if you want something to eat, someone else will go get it and test it for you. Your human should be able to do that for you, yes?â She finished her statement looking at James. So that was why he was here. He glanced nervously at Pieridae.
âSteller doesnât come to my revels.â Pieridae said, and of course it was the truth. James had never been to one of Pieridaeâs parties. Heâd ask to go once, and Pieridae had shook his head immediately, saying James wouldnât be able to handle it. James had been offended at the time, but when he asked Aeran about it once and the older fae had turned pale and warned him that he should avoid the revels, he decided to drop it.Â
âWell, he does now.â The queen said, and James got a very strong feeling that they were not going to win this argument. He turned fully to Pieridae.
âPerhaps we should listen to her, Pieridae,â James said, âIâll be right next to you all night, alright? No need to worry.â
âYour human needs better manners, my child, he assumes too much,â James really needed to work on honorifics, âbut he is correct. You should listen to me.â Pieridae dipped his head, but James could see his yellow eyes flicking back and forth, as they always did when Pieridae was looking for an answer. âYes, Pieridae?â
âYes mother. I will work on those things right away,â Pieridae stood, and motioned for James to follow. âCâmon Steller,â James stood up and followed Pieridae out of the court.Â
Pieridae started to panic well before they got back to his court.
âShit!âÂ
âLanguage, Pieridae,â
âFuck!â
âThatâs worse,â James sighed, sinking down into his pillows.Â
âI donât know what to do, James!â He threw his hands up, âWhy does she care about my revels? Why does it matter now?â
âMaybe we should just listen to her, Dae, I mean, it canât be that bad. Iâll just sit next to you and go get you drinks, like she said,â He hummed, thinking, âThough I guess I donât get to drink, right? Not so bad, itâs like going to a party with alcohol,â Not that heâd ever gotten the chance to do that.Â
âUgh, why are you on her side?â Pieridae groaned.
âUh, cause I donât want to get turned into a vegetable or a zombie or have my lungs removed or whatever it is your mom does?â Pieridae dropped his arms and sighed, before walking over and dropping down next to James.
âYeah, yeah,â Pieridae leaned into James, âI know she scares you-â
âShe locked me in a dungeon for like a week, Pieridae.â
âI know! Let me finish. I know she scares you, and for good reason, but you need to understand these revels⌠It's a party, like I said, but some fae have a tendency to go overboard when it comes to, well, fun. And Iâm worried that, if you came, you might get hurt,â James shifted slightly, so that he could look down at the prince. A grin overtook his face.
âYou care about me,â He sang, humor filling his voice, bringing his arms around the otherâs torso and hugging. Pieridae smacked him away.
âOh, shut up, asshole. Youâre a weak little human who couldnât handle himself at the most mundane of revels,â He sighed again, âSeriously, though. We need to set up some ground rules,â James nodded.
âThatâs probably a good idea.â
âOk so first off, you should be near my throne most of the time. No going off to dance without me.âÂ
âWasnât planning on it.â
âYou probably shouldnât talk to anybody else either.â
âWell hold on-â
âOh gods, should we even talk? Maybe you can just stay silent the whole night.â âYeah, thatâs a no. Pieridae if I have to go to this thing, I at least want to have fun,â James said, seriously, causing Pieridae to pause and shake his head.
âI know, but there are so many factors! Iâm sure weâll go to another soon, canât we just treat this as a test run?â James shook his head.Â
âNo way, I am not going to be some human statue for the entire night. Iâll be careful with who I talk to, I wonât dance, I wonât answer any personal questions, Iâll stay within sight and earshot, and if youâre worried about your loyal subjects seeing you get so chummy with a human than we can learn sign language or something,â James rattled off his ideas quickly, then looked back to Pieridae who was nodding slowly.Â
âIâm still worried, but if you stick to those it might not be so bad, actually, but what was the last thing you mentioned?â
âOh, itâs something Iâve been thinking about for awhile now,â James smiled, âOk so I donât know a lot cause my dad only taught me a few signs when I was like, super little, but basically, sometimes humans canât speak or hear properly, so they communicate with their hands,â Pieridae nodded. Â
âAlright, so itâs a language? I can probably convince one of the changelings to grab us a book or something on it and not tell anyone,â He replied. James hummed.
âSounds good. But about tonightâŚâ
The pair talked for a while, and argued a bit, but eventually settled on a plan. They took a nap, James on a pile of pillows and Pieridae sprawled across his rug like a cat, before Pieridae nudged James awake and said they had to start getting ready if they wanted to get there early enough to not be surprised, and so Pieridae had time to make his throne.Â
Pieridae tossed some clothes to James, shrugging when the human raised a questioning eyebrow. James shrugged in return. The shirt was a loose, flowy thing, that looked like it might be used in a play. There was also a shimmering blue vest that had feather-like clasps where the buttons should have been. It was surprisingly comfortable, but most of the clothes that he had were. Pieridae looked as he usually did, but he had some new jewelry that he seemed excited about.Â
The walk to where the party would be was longer than what James was used to. They passed the door to Aeranâs court, before turning a way that he didnât recognize. They wandered down the veritable maze that was the fae stronghold, Pieridae holding tightly to Jamesâs hand to make sure he didnât get lost.Â
They arrived at a door that Pieridae pushed through, and while he had been expecting a courtroom like the Queenâs, James was shocked to see it wasnât a room at all. The door opened to a wide open expanse, no cave walls or thick forest in sight. There was a large circle made by a moat in the grassy plain where it was obvious the revel was to be held. There was a stone path leading to a cobble-stone dais in the center. Something seemed different, in the air. Like it wasnât as humid.
âWhere are we?â James asked, following behind Pieridae as he walked up on and on to the dais. Pieridae looked around.
âIâm not sure, but weâre not in the woods anymore.â James rolled his eyes.
âYeah, I can see that, but I mean⌠are we still in your⌠realm or whatever? It feels different.â Pieridae had raised his hands over the center of the stone platform and his eyes were closed, but he responded anyway.
âI guess you could say weâre in one of the mushroom circles⌠a really big one,â His voice sounded a bit strained. âTechnically where we are right now is in the human world, but not anywhere close to where youâre from. When it gets later this place will be in our world⌠this place has existed for a really long time. Iâve heard stories that humans who came in the early hours of morning and went into the ring itself would get stuck on our side,â With that Pieridae grunted and made a tugging motion with his hands. Gnarled roots burst from the ground, twisting and bending and growing larger and harder until they resembled a high backed wooden thrown. The prince let out a sigh. âThere! That should do it, donât you think?âÂ
James was too consumed by his thoughts to enter. He was back home? This was the human world? Normal earth? No shades or creatures or poisoned food, could he leave? Could he hop the gap in the land and just run for it? He hadnât thought about escape in almost a year now, but it was so close, and as he looked out at the rolling green fields he could swear he could see houses and people in the distance. But as Pieridae came up to him and cocked his head to the side, silently asking if he was ok, he remembered the last part of what the prince had said.
âPieridae, could those people that got trapped get back out?â He asked, still looking out over the expanse. He felt Pieridaeâs sad expression more than he saw it, and heard the regret in the sigh that came before the older boyâs answer.
âI knew you would ask me that. These circles are tricky. Much easier to enter than to exit. No, they couldnât get back out,â There was something else that Pieridae wanted to say about that, James knew, but he didnât press when Pieridae continued. âYouâre still going to leave one day, alright? Youâre not going to be stuck here forever. Besides, I think this place is in Ireland, and that is definitely not where you said you were from,â James let out a slight laugh and leaned into Pieridae.Â
âYeah, yeah. So whenâs the party start?â
The dancers in the chain around the small fire jumped and spun erratically, never letting go of each other. They circled flames, laughing and singing, beckoning others to join. James doubted he could keep up, even if he hadnât promised Pieridae he wouldnât dance with anyone else. Their garments swayed with their movements, and his eyes couldnât keep track of where one dancer ended and another began. All he saw were strokes of paint, flowing freely around the inferno. To him, it seemed as if they left afterimages in their wake before the light of the fire overtook the clearing once more. As he sat on the steps near Pieridaeâs throne, watching this alien celebration, one of the dancers broke off and walked towards the pair. She bowed to Pieridae, before motioning to the steps, clearly asking permission if she could rest with James. After a moment, Pieridae nodded, waving a hand before bored eyes once again resumed watching the festivities.Â
She sat down next to James, causing the pine needles and moss that covered the rocky steps to shift slightly.
âWhy donât you join us?â She asked, with a voice that was giddy and drunk on the atmosphere. She was pretty. She was smaller than him, wearing an old style pink dress that didnât reach her bare feet. Her eyes shined in a kaleidoscope of colors, squinting at him in glee and good humor. Her blonde hair fell in ringlets around her shoulders, only interrupted by her pointed ears and the abundance of flowers around her head.
âMy feet are not as strong as yours,â He said gently, âIâd rather just watch.â She nodded sympathetically, seemingly unaware of Jamesâ slight lie.Â
âI can understand. I love it, but some of the others can only go so long before they fall over,â She said, and he nodded in response. She frowned at him. âYouâre human, arenât you? Youâd probably snap in half,â James found that he didnât like the way her eyes shined when she said that.Â
âMy dad and I used to dance together,â He found himself saying, and Pieridae shot him a look. He wasnât sure what had pushed those words out, but something made the memory come to the surface. âHeâd turn on our little radio and weâd dance around the kitchen,â He smiled softly. Caught up in the memory, he didnât notice him being pulled to his feet and stepping off the dais.Â
âSteller, what are you-â Pieridae started, but James only waved his free hand and smiled.Â
âIâm just going to stretch my legs, your highness! Let me get you something to eat!â James wasnât sure where that came from either, but it wasnât untrue. The golden haired fae laughed as he pulled away from her and bowed slightly, walking towards one of the stones with fruit piled high atop it. Walking through the crowd, he saw plenty of fae having fun outside of the dancers. It was a less diverse crowd than the Queenâs courtroom, but that was only because the guest list was mainly made up of spring faeries, and there were only a few from the other courts.Â
 His head felt a little fuzzy, and he suspected it was the atmosphere. As he turned back to deliver Pieridae his snacks and keep the bored prince company, he felt something brush against his leg. He glanced down and suppressed a yelp at the sight of a shade curling up his foot. It was fine, it was fine, they were harmless when they werenât being controlled, it was probably just here to keep an eye on things for the queen, right, yes, and all he had to do was walk back to Pieridae.Â
It was harder than it should have been. James had to turn down way too many offers to dance, and many of the fae didnât seem to understand the meaning of personal space. It came to a head when a large tree spirit stepped in front of him, bending down to look at his face.Â
âWhat are you?â It asked, slowly in a deep and menacing voice, though James was more annoyed than anything else.
âWhat am I? Iâm currently late for delivering the princeâs food, so if you donât mind,â He attempted to side step the spirit, but another hand reached and grabbed his arm. They seemed to be a court fae, with long straight black hair and pale skin dressed in delicate finery. Â
âThat isnât what it meant!â He said in a sing-song voice, âIt meant, what type of being are you? Youâre certainly like nothing Iâve seen.â James frowned.Â
âWell right now, Iâm being delayed, so if you really donât mind-â The grip on his arm tightened.Â
âOh I know! Youâre the princeâs little human! Heard you caused a stir when you first arrived,â Arrived, he said, like James hadnât been kidnapped, âSo much energy in such a frail body! Come dance with me, human, itâll be fun, the prince wonât mind!â James scowled and tugged his arm free.Â
âIâd really rather not,â His patience was wearing thin, and while James knew to be polite to fae he didnât know, he was very close to forgetting his manners. He got around the spirit, and got up to the edge of the dais. Pieridae smiled when he saw him, and started standing up from his chair, but suddenly his face was overcome with a look of surprise, and James felt pain on his arm. That fae was back, holding it far too tightly, smiling up at Pieridae.Â
âHello your highness!â He sang, âMind if I take your human for a dance? My own prince sent me to see what all the fuss was about. You spring types are always so silly. I havenât seen a human this alert in ages!â His body seemed to shift as he said that, almost as imperceptible as the dresses of the dancers, and his grip felt like ice. James spoke up, unsure of what to do.
âYour highness I have the food I promised! Iâm afraid I canât give it to you until this kind man lets go of me,â James suspected that if he was cursed the inability to lie as most fae were, he wouldnât have been able to add the adjective. And apparently it was the wrong thing to say, as suddenly, the blond fae from earlier was lifting the plate of food out of his hands, giggling all the while, as if sheâd just fixed the simplest of problems. The dark haired faeâs other arm came to rest on his shoulder.Â
He snapped
âGet off of me!â He practically screeched, yanking to pull his arm away from the creature that was holding him. It didnât work, and the manâs smile grew wider, revealing too many sharp teeth. The prince seemed to snap out of whatever decorum heâd been trying to uphold at the same time.
âLet go of him!â Pieridae hissed and leapt from his throne, and James managed to break free, but the faeâs ice cold claws sliced his skin as they released him, and he fell to the floor in shock, clutching his arm. Pieridae stood over him, snarling at the fae who hadnât yet left the foot dias. Mushrooms and moss grew and died rapidly around them, roots broke the surface and then decayed, and while James wasnât looking at the Princeâs face he could imagine the animalistic rage that he would see on his features.Â
âHow dare you touch him?â Pieridae spat. âHow dare you come into my court and expect to act like an animal? That goes for the rest of you! I can see you! I have watched all night! This revel is over!âÂ
James didnât hear the rest of whatever Pieridae was shouting. Some of it was drowned out by the chattering and shouts of the disappointed fae, and some couldnât be heard over the rushing in his own head. He barely noticed when the crowd went quiet. He felt a hand rest on his back.
âCan you stand?â Pieridae whispered, and James pushed himself to his feet without answering. There was a question in the Princeâs eyes as James looked back into them, as James steeled himself and nodded. Pieridae was still looking at him when he started speaking again.
âThis is Steller, first member of my court.â only then did Pieridae turn to the frozen crowd, his eyes turning cold and hard. âAnd anyone who harms him will answer to me.â
The great, waking yawn of March // Part 3
@normal-horoscopes
Locked Doors
Fandom: The Magnus ArchivesÂ
Chapter 1 of 2 What happens when your who is returned to your what.  Written for the TMA Season 5 Countdown day 3: Spiral, @pilesofnonsense
Read on AO3
âItâs locked,â The archivist said, sounding uncertain and scared.Â
âItâs not,â It laughed, softly and terribly. It enjoyed the archivistâs confusion, even if it was slightly annoyed at the fledgling avatar for wasting time. Even if such a concept did not apply to it.Â
âWhy is it locked?â The archivist spat, and the lie could tell that he was not lying.Â
âIt canât be!â It said, tension seeping into its voice.Â
âWell you try it!â The archivist stepped away from the door, motioning for the entity to try for itself.Â
âThat- thatâs not-â Something clicked. After years of spirals and distortion and broken minds, something clicked inside of Michael. âOh. Oh no.âÂ
And then he was screaming. He hadnât felt this sort of pain in so long, or perhaps he had never stopped feeling it and the twisting in his mind had simply caused him to forget. He was unwinding, separating. Was he still holding on to the door knob? He couldn't turn the handle, but that couldnât be right. The handle was part of him, as was the door, and his ending twisting corridors. But were they?Â
When did he become himself again?Â
With that thought, he let go of the handle, tears streaming down from eyes that no longer saw impossible colors, and he was gone.Â
Michael Shelley woke up on a sidewalk in the middle of London with a splitting headache and a broken hand. The sky was overcast as he looked up from where he was lying, the gray clouds twisting and rolling above him like the sea. Laughter bubbled up inside him, but fizzled and died as a strange choking sound. A few passers by seemed to notice the sound and went from simply avoiding or ignoring him to glancing down worriedly and hurrying quickly along.Â
Michael sat up, groaning slightly as he did so, clutching his hand that could no longer pierce through flesh and bone. He stood slowly, before quickly making his way over to the steady brick wall on the other side of the path and leaning against it, taking deep breaths. The world had stopped spinning. The world was still and hard and constant, and all the people around looked like people, and for a single moment Michael could almost convince himself that his memories had simply come from a drunken nightmare. But he had spent so long lying to himself and to deny himself the reality that he hadnât experienced in so long felt like a betrayal.Â
He needed to figure out where he was. Yes, yes, that was it. He could figure out where he was, and then try to find his way home.
He realized, however, as he had this thought, that it would be impossible. He had been gone for so long. He had certainly been declared dead, his flat sold, his dog adopted. Gertrude was never one to forget to tie up loose ends. And even if he hadnât been confirmed dead, he had at least been missing for nearly a decade! Nothing would be the same. Hell, everything wouldâve been gone if heâd been missing one month, much less seven years. No one was there to look for him; no partner, an estranged family. Itâs not like Elias would call Gertrude out on what sheâd done. Even if he hated her too, heâd become such a bastard after becoming head of the Magnus Institute.Â
When he realized he would need to go back to the institute, he almost started crying. He didnât want to go back to the institute. He loathed the place. In fact, heâd hated it so much that the hatred had stayed with him while heâd been an unfeeling eldritch horror.Â
He supposed it was why the spiral had finally seen fit to spit him out.To many feelings unrelated to its own goals. To much clear hatred burning through the haze of being a living distortion, it almost made sense that he was evicted by someone better. Like being sacrificed to for being an annoying employee.Â
He had seen Gertrude again while he was Michael. She hadnât been alive, but it had seen her corpse in that dark room in the tunnels. And it had laughed and laughed and laughed, unendingly pleased that the woman that made it had finally gotten her due.
Now he just felt sick. And confused. And so restless and irritated that he didnât even realize that he had been walking until he looked up and saw that bloody owl looking down on him.Â
Oh how he hated the eye.Â
He introduced himself as Michael to the woman at the front desk. She hadnât worked here when he had, and it was a common enough name that he doubted it would automatically be related back to a mysterious figure that occasionally terrorized archive employees.
âIâm here to see Jon,â He said with a nervous smile, one that heâd worn thousands of times in the past but felt foreign in this context. She returned the expression, but it looked odd. Like she couldnât quite believe him. That, or she assumed it was a prank.
âJon?â She asked. âReally?âÂ
âYes?â He replied, cocking his head to the side, âIâm sorry, is there an issue? I- I havenât heard from him in awhile, he said I was free to come visit his work. Heâs not too busy, is he?â The lie slid easily off his tongue, but not as easily as it once would have.Â
âNo, no, of course,â She said, waving her hands in the air gently, as if trying to placate him. âJon doesnât get a ton of people coming to visit him at work is all. And he has been gone for awhile, some bad sickness or other. You can head down now no problem, Iâll just have to give you a visitorâs pass. What did you say your name was?â
âMichael.â
âLast name?â He almost hesitated.
âShelley. Michael Shelley.â She just nodded and typed it in, before smiling and handing him a name tag.Â
âHave a nice visit,â She said cheerily, and Michael headed down.
It was amazing what he remembered, both from being a monster and working here. Michael the distortion never really had a need for directions or a good memory of proper turns. Michael Shelley on the other hand, was great when it came to navigating the twisting halls of the institute. Perhaps thatâs why the spiral had become him instead of digesting him.Â
But he clearly remembered how to find the stairwell leading down to the archives, and from there the way to the head archivistâs office. He didnât pass many people in the halls, which wasnât too surprising. By the time Gertrude had seen fit to be rid of him heâd really been the only one to make any noise down here. Even if Jon had more assistants, he doubted they would want to be wandering the halls. Not alone anyway.Â
He came upon the door leading to Jonâs office. Boring some unknown piece of him laughed. He reached for the handle.Â
âHey!â He flinched, his hand falling to his side. He took a deep breath, before turning to meet whoever had discovered him and smiling his nervous crooked smile.Â
âHello, um Iâm sorry Iâm just here to talk to your archi- Jon. Iâm here to talk toâŚâ Michael could hear his own voice fading into nothing as the man who had been locked in the distortionâs corridors for a few hours (or weeks, depending who you asked) stormed toward him.
He really should have seen the punch coming, but damn did it hurt.Â
Tim was shouting something at him, but it just sounded like noise. Michael waved a hand at him, the other being used to hold his now bloody nose.Â
âI just need to talk to Jon,â Michael bit out, interrupting the other man in the middle of his tirade.Â
âYeah? And why are you going this way, huh? Donât you have your own fucked up methods of travel?â Michael shook his head almost sheepishly.
âI donât anymore, and I really need to talk to your archivist so if youâll just let me-â it was Timâs turn to cut him off.
âOh what so you just decided to stop being a monster, that it?â In the past Michael had rarely been one to get annoyed, but the longer he stood, bloody in the hall of the Magnus Institute, the closer he felt to snapping.
âNot exactly, though honestly I wouldnât say thatâs exactly a negative development, and if you want to punch me again or yell at me for the things that it- I- we did to you feel free but can you please wait just ten minutes?âÂ
Tim looked pissed. Michael realized that, and he let out a deep say, fully accepting that after surviving becoming the muscle of an otherworldly being of fear he was now going to die at the hands of a ticked off library science major.Â
And then the door opened.
âTim I thought I heardâŚâ Michael stared at the archivist. He looked different then he did the last time heâd seen him. Less beat to hell, obviously, though his skin still looked relatively great. He had different clothes on, ones that werenât torn and bloody from a month in a demented wax museum.Â
But more than that he just looked⌠normal. When the spiral had looked at Jon, it had seen twisting thoughts, confusion and doubt. Fear wrapped in a tight package of green jumpers and too many eyes. But to Michael the man just looked human. Tired sure, with his eyes still a bit too bright to be normal but not really enough to be noticeable.Â
For a second he almost felt jealous that the manâs beholding characteristics were so concealed, but he tamped that feeling down and locked it away. Jon spoke first.
âMichael?â He asked softly, as if talking to a scared child or a rabid dog, âMichael Shelley?â Michael didnât know how else to respond to the question other than to nod. He noticed Tim looking rapidly between them, so he decided to speak.
âCan I come in? Is that alright?â There was a moment when no one said anything, but soon Jon was opening the door to the office wide, ushering him inside.Â
âAh Tim, Iâm not sure you shouldâŚâ Michael heard Jon say once he was in the room and out of harm's way, so to speak.
âYou canât keep doing this, Jon, you need to tell me what is happening. It doesnât matter to me what happens to you, but Iâm not going to be blamed for you getting snatched by another monster!â Michael couldnât make out Jonâs response, but he couldnât find him to involve himself in the conversation. He glanced around the office.Â
It had been here recently, a few months ago at the most, pestering the archivist about something or other. He couldnât remember what it looked like. Surely it hadnât changed much, itâs not like Jon was suddenly inclined to change the decorations, but it seemed so much less⌠colorful. Like a strobe light had been turned off. The last time he had been in this office with it looking anything close to how it did now had been when he had excitedly come to inform Gertrude that the cab was here to take them to the airport. How thrilled he had been to be of assistance, how excited to have been going on his first ever international trip, and with a woman who he respected so much no less. What an honor, what an opportunity, what a⌠mistake.Â
Heâd been so focused staring holes in the desk chair that he hadnât noticed Jon saying something. When the other man gently laid a hand on Michaelâs shoulder, he spun around, causing Jon to jerk back as a look of panic overtook his features before being schooled into academic normalcy once again.Â
Michael supposed some fear was to be expected. After all, something with his mind and body had threatened to kill Jon not too far in the past.Â
âWould you like to sit down?â Jon asked, gesturing to one of the chairs. Michael suddenly remembered how tired and sore he felt, nodding and collapsing into the chair, careful not to hurt his injured hand. Michael smiled at the archivist, even if it felt a bit forced.
âI would say itâs nice to meet you, but Iâm afraid that would just add to the current confusion.â Jon went over to sit in his own chair, watching Michael, but not exactly meeting his eyes. Tim was inside the now closed door, with his arms crossed. A poor imitation of a security guard.Â
âHow are you⌠here? The distortion said you were gone.â
âThe distortion isnât exactly the most truthful of beings, donât you think?â Jon made a noise of affirmation. Michael watched as the archivist glanced quickly over to Tim, the door, and then back to Michael.Â
âMichael, I⌠I want to help you, but I need to ask you first⌠do you still want to kill me?â Michael shifted in his chair. No was the obvious answer, and it was the truth, he didnât want to kill Jon. But he would be lying if he said he could no longer feel the writhing thing in his stomach urging him to leave the archives, lock the doors, and burn it down with everyone still inside.Â
âNo. When I was⌠merged with the distortion, the only thing I could recall was the betrayal I felt from Gertrude. The Michael you knew was aware that she was dead, but saw you as only The Archivist. Her replacement. The small piece of me in control could only see you as connected to the person who didnât care about me. I was angry. I am⌠really sorry.â Michael let out a nervous laugh, but stopped when he saw both Jon and Tim freeze at the sound. He felt cold.
âAnd are you still connected with the distortion? Can you still feel it?â There came a slight buzz with the archivistâs word and Michaelâs nervous expression quickly transformed into a frown.Â
âI do not know, archivist,â He said the word with some contempt, âand while I respect you and your assistance, I do not appreciate being Beheld, Jon.â In response to this, Jon jerked slightly, shaking his head and bringing a hand up to pinch at the bridge of his nose, like he was trying to shake off a headache. Tim was now staring at him with something akin to disgust.
âI apologize, itâs hard to tell when Iâm doing it or when itâs⌠nevermind, this is not about me. Is there anything that you think is important regarding your recently regained humanity?âÂ
Michael thought for a moment.
What an odd question. What he thought was important, what a subjective thing. What he thought. He was just getting used to thinking linearly again.Â
âItâs hard to say⌠I feel... fuzzy. You know when youâve just woken from being sick? Youâre warm and confused and there's a jittery feeling in your fingertips. I feel like I am fully here for the first time in years, but Iâm afraid that in a moment I will fall back into that⌠twisting. Isnât that terrible?â He giggled on the last word again and choked on the sound. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm trying not to laugh. Itâs not funny and Iâm not that thing, I promise IâŚâ Tears had sprung from his eyes, and through his cloudy vision he could see the discomfort clearly on the two menâs faces, and he looked down, and suddenly he stopped, âOh right,â Jon straightened in concern.
âWhat?â He asked seriously. Michael glanced up sheepishly.Â
âI think my hand is broken.â
đđťđ Green witch living aesthetics đđťđ
Oh wow. Feelings.
Living with the fae will do things to a kid
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Poland by Mariusz SĹoĹski
âWinter in the woodsâ by Heiko Gerlicher /Â CC BY-NC-ND 4.0
If you wanna learn about some of the Dynamics in Woodward, here you go.
From this post
Ocs from How to Get Kidnapped by the Fae and Still WinÂ
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I think it might be better for original fiction, so Iâm just gonna try it out.
The fae prince waits at the edge of the woods...
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