Did some drawing tests on eyes using the characters from @therealandian's ReDeath / Search Through The Stars AU! The first one is Major Jonathan Sims of General White's rebellion, the (former) Archivist of his world and a newborn Mechanism (thanks Carmilla...)!
My idea for the almost camera-like sclera comes from @trans-jon-rights's fanart of the same character, which helped really hammer home how unsettling a Mechanism would be to look at when exposed. No wonder Gunpowder Tim has glasses of some sort in most fanart variations...
I plan to space out the release times between each art so I can work on more of my own characters, but for now, it seems The Eye wants more. Have fun guessing who is next~
Hello my beautiful patient followers. I’ve returned with TMA content because it’s my latest obsession. I’m proud to say that my first contribution to the fandom is an obligatory Mechs!Jon fic because I find them hilarious.
--
Tim was doing his best to avoid having to go up to the boss’s office all day, but was very disappointed to find he had no choice but to pop in for a visit to give him some of the ‘possibly true’ statements.
It wasn’t like he was going to believe it anyway - what was even the point? The guy was so uptight Tim didn’t think he knew how to have some fun and imagine the possibility that maybe there was something exciting in the universe. Tim supposed that didn’t really change the fact that he needed to give the guy his precious statements, so he groaned and grabbed the pile he’d gathered up.
He approached the door and stopped short of it, wondering if he would even notice if he didn’t give him the statements. He really didn’t have the energy for whatever job he was going to be given if he dared to walk in. Then something caught his ear.
Was Jon… chanting?
He was talking slightly quieter than his speaking volume and that definitely wasn’t English. It couldn’t be him speaking to himself. Jon had specifically told him the other day he didn’t speak any other languages. He tried picking out his words in case he was just mishearing, but the words were very clear and were certainly not anything coherent. He did catch him occasionally switch to humming. Was Jonathan Sims, head archivist of the Magnus Institute singing to himself?
Tim made a mental note of the more coherent words and stepped into the doorway.
“Hey, boss!” he couldn’t help but be amused at how Jon jumped at the sound of him. He ripped his hand away from his face, which was pressed up against it, and readjusted his glasses with the hand.
“What did you need, Tim?” he asked, looking up at him unenthusiastically.
“Got a fresh delivery of statements for you!” he said cheerily, stepping up to the desk and placing the pile on an empty part of the table with a satisfying slap.
“Later than usual I see. Doesn’t matter I suppose. Would you mind filing away all of these on your way out?” Jon said, gesturing to a pile of statement files that was even larger than the one he’d just brought in. Great.
“Sure thing, boss! Wouldn’t want you having any of the fun, eh?” He joked, which didn’t seem to carry the same amusement for the other man.
“Shut up, Tim,” he deadpanned, returning to his work, signalling that the exchange was over.
Tim wandered back to his desk faster than usual and frantically wrote down all of the phrases he could remember.
What were they…. He definitely said something that sounded like ‘yai’ and he thought he heard a ‘sothoth’. How was he supposed to find anything with this gibberish? With little hope he opened up his web browser,typing in the words, and was surprised to find it wasn’t gibberish at all. It was some Lovecraftian chant. He doubted Jonathan ‘this-statement-is-wrong-because-this-word-is-mispelled’ Sims would be the sort of guy to worship Cthulhu.
He’d been humming though, hadn’t he? Maybe it was a song. With his impeccable research skills he added ‘song’ to the end of his search and right there on the first page of results was a song called ‘Red Signal’ by the Mechanisms. He clicked on a video and listened to the song. That was definitely the same tune. It was strange, though. He never really pegged the bossman as someone that listened to this sort of thing. It reminded him of a folksy sort of punk or metal? Then the chanting stopped and switched to a spoken verse and Tim froze.
Was that Jon? It definitely sounded like him… Maybe the voice was a bit deeper and gravelly but Tim could have sworn that it was his voice. He frantically searched up the band. After looking through some photoshoots for some old albums he couldn’t help but stare. That was definitely his boss with quite a bit of makeup and dressed in some very over-the-top steampunk getup and flipping off the camera. He suddenly felt someone pressing up against his chair from behind.
“Is that Jon?” Sasha asked, leaning over his shoulder, squinting at the screen with her head cocked.
“Apparently,” Tim said, grinning ear to ear. “Look, I did some digging and it turns out he used to be in this steampunk band,” he continued, showing Sasha more pictures of Jon and his bandmates on the page.
“That’s amazing. He looks quite good in the pictures though, don’t you think?” she said with a chuckle.
“Right? He actually looks like he’d be fun to have a drink with!” He switched back to ‘Red Signal’ and started playing it. “I mean listen to this, he’s actually good, too!”
“How did you even find this?”
“He was singing it to himself and I used my incredibly advanced skills to track it down,” Tim bragged, making a show of readjusting his lapels.
“If only you put the same effort into actually working,” she chided, giving him a cheerful nudge with her elbow.
“Alas, I don’t think there’d be any work left for the rest of you if I did. It’s a public service to you all.” He grinned.
“Riiiight, because this place could run without me around.” Sasha grinned back.
The door to the shared office opened with a sharp creak and Martin stepped into the room.
They looked up and Tim called, “Hey Martin! How was Bexley?”
“Quite nice, actually! No creepy witches sending body parts to people, but there were some very kind old ladies I had the pleasure of speaking to!”
“Sounds like it was fun!” Sasha replied with a warm smile.
Martin was placing his bag down at his desk when he stopped and looked back at the two of them.
“What song is that?” he asked.
Tim grinned mischievously. “It’s called ‘Red Signal’, it’s by-“
“-by the Mechanisms? I had a friend that loved them, played it all of the time,” Martin finished, chuckling to himself at the memory. “I quite like their music, actually.”
Sasha and Tim took a moment to stare at each other knowingly and beamed innocently at Martin as he turned back to them.
Sasha looked at him with the same warm smile she’d given him before. “Maybe you could ask Jon if he’s heard of them while you give him your report?”
“Are you sure? It doesn’t seem like the sort of thing he’d go for,” he wondered.
“People can surprise you all of the time, may as well ask anyway. It’s not like he’s gonna hate your guts any more than he already does.”
Martin made a disappointed wince. “I guess so.”
“Don’t let that grump get you down, Martin, he probably just has a huge crush on you,” Sasha smirked.
“What? N-no! As if, that doesn’t even make any sense!” he stammered, turning back to his desk and sitting down to hide the red that was spreading over his face.
“Ask him, though, will you? I’ve already had to go up there today and he’s given me a whole stack of files to go through. Not sure I could take another trip,” Tim joked as Sasha moved back to her desk. “Don’t tell him it was me that was wondering, though, he’d probably think it’s a trick or something,” he added casually.
“R-right, sure thing, Tim,” Martin obliged.
—
Martin knocked on Jon’s half-open door later that day, report in hand. Jon spared him a brief glance upwards before looking back down at his work.
“Did you find anything regarding the Bexley statement?” he asked, not bothering to hide his disinterest as Martin placed his report on the table.
“I didn’t find the woman described in the statement, but I made sure to check every elderly Angela,” he said, a bit disappointed at how useless the trip was. “I did have some wonderful conversations about jigsaw puzzles with a few of them, though!” he added cheerfully. Thankfully Jon didn’t seem to be in a mood to scold him, but wasn’t at all invested in the conversation. Martin was about to leave when he remembered Tim’s request.
“Oh, uh, by the way, we were- well we were talking about it earlier so I was wondering if you’d heard of the Mechanisms? Like that space pirate band that used to play in a lot of London bars?”
Jon froze up for a moment before quickly explaining, “Erm, no I don’t think I have. Not uh…. not a big fan of going to see bands play at shows, you know?”
Martin raised an eyebrow. “Oh, okay? I guess it doesn’t seem like something you’d like… are you okay? You seem… off?”
“I’m quite fine, Martin, just a bit of a headache, I suppose. If you’ll excuse me I need to get back to this,” he said dismissively, returning to whatever he was writing down and setting Martin’s report on a stack.
“Sure! Did you need any tea? I’ve got one that’s really good for headaches,” he offered.
“That won’t be necessary, Martin, get back to work.”
“Right.” Martin concluded as he left the room.
—
Things had been going a bit too slowly for Martin’s liking in the past few days. That usually meant Jon got antsy about people not doing as much work. It wasn’t like there was anything to do in the first place.
He was at least in the break room with Tim having lunch, who was playing more Mechanisms music, so Jon couldn’t tell either of them off right now. As his mind drifted to Jon, the man himself entered the room with his own lunch and made his way to the coffee machine.
The song Tim was playing was pretty good. Martin curiously looked at Tim’s phone on the table playing the music.
“What song is that, Tim?”
“Ah, it’s called ‘Loki’, it’s from this great album called ‘The Bifrost Incident’,” he said with an obnoxious grin. Jon looked at them and ducked his head when Martin looked back.
Martin pulled out his own phone and searched up ‘The Bifrost Incident’ and found a video from a show that he opened up. After a bit of pre-show banter the first song started.
That was when Martin heard Johnny DeVille do the song’s introduction. He’d always thought the lead singer sounded familiar, but the paragraph gave Martin a very vivid recollection of the exact tone of voice Jon always used when he recorded statements.
That couldn’t be right, no way was that him. He took a good look at Johnny and looked between his own phone at the man with black cracks drawn on his face wearing the most steampunk outfit he’d ever seen and Jon, who was standing there, in his sweater vest, making a cup of coffee to go with his sandwich. Tim was looking at both of them struggling not to laugh and Jon was suddenly VERY interested in the coffee he had just poured out.
“JOHNNY DEVILLE?” Martin exclaimed, prompting Tim to bend over, choking on his own stifled laughter.
Jon picked up his coffee and claimed his sandwich from the table behind him and refused to meet Martin’s gaze.
“Thats- uh- probably just a coincidence… I’m, uh, I’ll just have lunch in my office today,” he mumbled out, clearly not convinced he’d covered it up at all and left the room without another word.
Tim pulled himself back up and let out a heavy breath. “Oh, ha, Martin, sorry, it’s just Sasha and I were wondering how long it was gonna take,” he sighed gleefully. “Hopefully he’ll face society again. Hard to imagine the bossman was ever that cool, huh?”
Martin stared at the door. “Yeah…”
—
The next day Jon came into the office, but hadn’t shown his face for the whole day. Martin felt bad about yesterday, he probably overreacted a bit. Tim assured him it was fine and that the boss just isn’t the type to take a bit of embarrassment on the chin. This didn’t stop Martin from dropping in with a cup of tea when it became clear Jon wasn’t leaving his office for lunch.
Martin knocked on the door and upon getting a gruff ‘yes?’ from the other side he let himself in. Jon was more dismissive than usual and didn’t even spare a glance at him. Martin wasn’t sure how much of it was his usual grumpiness and how much was because of yesterday.
He set the tea down in the spot Jon usually kept it, right next to his coffee mug from yesterday. Martin waited for any acknowledgement. The acknowledgement never came and Jon’s expression was unreadable. The fact that he was looking down intently didn’t help.
“You know, I think it’s pretty cool that you were in a band. It’s not like you’re a murderer or something actually bad,” Martin said, desperate to break the silence. Jon clenched his pen tighter and looked up at him cautiously.
“That’s… kind of you to say…” he responded.
“Don’t worry about it, we’ve all done some pretty silly things. I will be honest, though, Jon, if being the lead singer for the Mechanisms is the most embarrassing thing you’ve done, I am extremely jealous.”
Jon smiled in a way that looked almost bashful on him. “It was a lot of fun, performing. It was a real shame when we all split after university.”
“I can imagine,” Martin sighed, silently cursing himself at how softly he’d said it. “Steampunk outfits really suit you, though, Jon. The makeup was a nice touch too.” He turned and made his way back to the door.
As Martin went to close the door behind him Jon grumbled, “Shut up, Martin.”
—
The next morning Martin found something on his desk. It was a Mechanisms shirt neatly folded up and a copy of the Bifrost Incident album, both signed by all of the band members.
The note lying on top of them read ‘I had a few extras at home - J’ and Martin couldn’t help but feel giddy.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
a couple old friends run into each other!
...emphasis on old lmao
Little Jon rocked his coffee back and forth a bit, took a sip, then frowned into it as if it had personally insulted him. “Who are you really? I-I mean, you’ve told me your name—your first name, anyway—but that’s…it. That’s all I really know about you.” He laughed nervously. “And- well, and I guess you've told me about the horrors plaguing the world, but that’s…I’m not asking about that.”
Jon sighed. He'd been expecting this question for some time, but had never really figured out how to explain it all. Why couldn’t they go back to discussing annoying people in the kid’s courses? That was much more fun! “Who do you think I am?” he asked
The boy frowned even deeper, though now at Jon. “You just had to do that, didn’t you? Answer a question with a question?”
“Says the one doing the exact same thing,” Jon teased.
He blinked a few times, then realisation dawned on his face. “Oh…right.”
“So,” Jon said, setting his cup down and clasping his hands in his lap as he leaned back, “who do you think I am?”
Little Jon hesitated, watching him closely. “Who I think you are doesn’t make any sense. I-I mean, I guess unless the Powers enable someone to, uh…”
“To what, Jon?”
He had a sheepish look as he replied, and he refused to look Jon in the eyes. “To…um…time travel?”
