creatures that i briefly move along (teacher!jon au)
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Mr Sims was so weird, was the thing. Miss Grant always said calling people weird was rude, and Anna sort of agreed, but she didn’t know what other word to use to describe Mr Sims.
He’d only been in with the class for a few days, really, and half of that he just sat at the back listening, but that didn’t stop her from making a swift judgement. 5BG had had student teachers before, back when they were 3ST, and they’d been uniformly normal.
Mr Sims was… actually, Anna had a better adjective. He was interesting.
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“Have you done any crimes Mr Sims?”
Mr Sims paused. He seemed genuinely conflicted about how to answer for a moment, before he sighed and said, “None that I’ve been convicted for.”
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Dear Mister Sims,
We hope you dont get worms again. 😂
We will miss you!
Love from Anna and Prachi
xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxSeries
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Jon, as it turned out, was totally fine. He had George patched up with a Pudsey-style bandage adorned with a very poorly drawn Batman symbol and was listening intently as George explained the mechanics of Roblox.
“I see,” he said, as George’s rambling sentence came to an end. “So you can play all sorts of games with it?”
George nodded emphatically. “‘S the coolest game ever.”
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every right thing will find its right place by dotsayers
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
21 Jul 2020
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Jon really did flush at that. “I never disliked you,” he said, forcefully. “I just —”
“I know, Jon,” said Martin, fond. “No need to rehash.” He turned to Penny, Nick and Sue, and grinned sheepishly. “He was my boss for a bit. I was, um, under-qualified.”
“Oooh, office romance,” said Sue. “Never thought you’d have it in you, Jon.”
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“It was nice to run into you,” said Mr Sims. He sounded like he meant it. “I’ll admit, I do miss reading your stories, Anna. They were all very… visceral.”
Martin snorted. He was just how Anna had imagined, somehow. He was a little bit taller than her dad, and he wore round-framed glasses that looked sort of cool, even though they were kind of old-fashioned. She thought he probably gave good hugs, which was good, because Mr Sims always looked a bit like he needed one.
“Thanks Mr Sims,” said Anna, preening a little. “Mrs Grant said I have a very active imagination.”
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This year there were a few potential candidates for that position. She catalogued them carefully at the coffee-and-tea table before induction, eavesdropping as politely as possible on their conversations.
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” one woman was saying, holding her teacup daintily above the saucer. “But, um, are you sure this is the career for you?”
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“Right,” she said. Best not to ask, probably. Safety in ignorance. “So, being a nightmare monster is a side effect of, what, having to spend all day every day listening to nutjobs lie about werewolves?”
Sims huffed. For a moment he looked almost exactly as he had in his office, all those years before, all wounded self-importance. It vanished just as quickly as it appeared, but it was kind of comforting to know he hadn’t become a completely different person. It gave Naomi some hope for herself.
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Mr Sims hummed beside him, writing something in his big notebook. Leo wasn’t sure what the humming meant, but it was a nice sound so he didn’t mind. He chewed on his special necklace a bit while he worked on a nice, round five (“Down and around and a flag on high…”).
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Penny raised her eyebrows. “You do need to apologise, that’s true. But Jon, you really haven’t fucked up as much as you seem to think.” She withdrew her hand. Jon couldn’t help but sigh with relief. “See, I’m going to let you in on a secret about teaching. Everyone fucks it up.”
Jon huffed, reluctantly amused. His head continued to pound. “I think that’s just a secret about life,” he offered. “I’ve got a lot of experience with it.”
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“I don’t know what you are or what the fuck you’re doing in my classroom,” she growled. “But if you don’t close that fucking door and leave this place this instant you’ll regret it.”
“Oh, Jon,” said the monster in the doorway. It curled a set of corkscrew claws in her direction, beckoning. “I like this one! Reminds me a little of your dear little friend. The one Michael liked so very much.”
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“Jesus Christ,” she said, as she sank into the right-hand seat. “I think you could actually be sick on this fabric and it’d look better, not worse.”
“That’s part of the appeal,” said Jon. He handed her a mug of steaming hot tea and sat down on the other end of the sofa, legs crossed, his own mug held tightly in both hands.
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slowly the sun creeps along the floor by dotsayers
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
11 Jan 2025
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"Exactly," Martin said, with some finality. "You'll be fine. Just don't tell them four plus six is 'who fucking cares'."
Jon flushed. "I'm under a lot of stress."
"I know," replied Martin sympathetically. "You save the world a few times and they still want to know how you did in your GCSEs. There's no justice in this world."
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