#it was about martin trying to convince jon to save himself | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostonehero · 4 months

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In which I write a time travel foc where the Web the Beholder and the Lonely fight over Martin becoming their perfect Avatar because again he deserves all the power

Maybe lonelyeyes parents maybe

Martin gasps as he sits up. His hands were red painted by the blood of the man he loved. His legs were not crushed by the fallen ceiling. He was small. Well, he thinks he is small he can't recall the last time a blanket pooled around him like this nor the childish bedroom he was in. Did it work? Did they save the world? Where's Jon?

Martin pulled himself out of the hollow comfort of his bed and realized yes, he was quite small, and the small calander on his bedside full of cute spiders... wait, spiders? He didn't have a calander like that, but the date was more than enough to convince him that he was five. He slowly opened his door to the scent of breakfast and a familiar voice.

"Martin? You shouldn't be up this early." It was his mother and by her tone and the man who came into view she was happy if only because his father hasn't left yet.

Martin didn't exactly know what to say or do, but he climbed on a chair and tried to put on a smile.

That lasted about three minutes when a fog seemed to appear in his home. The webs seem to be built out of nothing trying to fight the fog. The shreiks from his mother about spiders and his fathers huff about the humidity in the house made him know for a fact he wasn't imagining it.

Martin really didn't want to be here, nor did he want to think he was the only one flung back here. He sighs and sneaks out through the chaos to his room.

......

The park was nice, and it wasn't as if he didn't want to be outside enjoying the not apcoloypse, but he wanted to find Jon and he couldn't exactly do that because he's five. Jon was two years older than him, and if he tried and Jon didn't come back, it probably would end poorly.

Martin sneezes the familiar mist of the Lonely tickled his nose and he tried to rub the feeling away he was too annoyed to really care that he was being followed by them also the Web but he liked spiders so he was fine with that, well as long as Annabelle Cane didn't show up. He stopped his thoughts as he saw a work boot worn from use attached to a man who stood in front of him.

"Hello, little child." That voice he knew too happy for what he represents. It was Peter Lucas didn't look much different than when he last saw him.

Martin raised his brow and stared up from his spot in the grass he sat in his coloring book forgotten as he started to scowl. Obviously, he didn't come back. Which may be fortunate for him, but he really just didn't want to bother with him. "I can scream and alert the entire place if you even try."

Peter blinked, surprised shock on his features. "I... uh, what?" The damn cheery tone was still there now laced with confusion.

Martin looked over to the sound of footsteps, and shoes too expensive to be in the grass were on his other side. He groaned. "Seriously." He huffs, looking over to Elias.

"Peter, what brings you here?" Elias asked, annoyed, was etched on his features since he didn't expect to see him here.

"Elias." Peter rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. "I'm busy here."

"A public park seems quite out of style for you." Elias has an amused look on his face as Peter shifted uncomfortably.

"So you two are currently divorced then." Martin huffs and stands up. "Well, have your spat somewhere else. I'm in no mood for this."

"Divorced? Child, we aren't.. we..." Elias stops himself stepping back as a woman with cobwebs in her hair approaches, holding a dark skined child with green eyes.

She drops the child down next to the red-headed child. He was older and bigger than the small boy. "Jonah.... Peter." Her voice soft and a smile hung loosely on her lips.

"Martin!?" The dark skin boy gasps.

"Jon!" Martin pulled the bigger boy into a hug.

Elias huffs. "Why are you here?"

"Why indeed?" The woman chuckles.

Peter looked like he wanted to vanish, but he could feel his patron holding strong. The desire to get the boy to protect them was overwhelming, and he may have felt something new odd like it was tugging him to Elias. He assumed Elias felt it as well by the quicker brow as he stared at him and his eyes glowed.

Elias sighs. "I am merely here looking for someone."

Jon crossed his arms and tried to look angry, but he only pouted. He knew exactly what the Beholder told him and how he wasn't free and, well, now a stronger avatar than Elias if that was possible, but he also knew they wanted Martin to keep safe to keep them partnered to stop the mistakes of the apocalypse, and as a apology gift to Jon himself. He, however, had no clue why Peter or Annabelle were there. Elias was predictable at least following the Eye to its desires. "Martin, let's go."

Martin stops and stares at Jon. "We're children. Where do you expect us to go?"

Jon faltered. "I uh right we are aren't we."

"Still the eye?" Martin hums as he watches his partner nod. "So know why they are here?"

"I know why Elias is here." Jon pauses and shakes his head, rubbing his temples.

"Right." Martin rocks on his heels. "Can I meet your grandma?"

"Oh uh sure she's on the bench over there." Jon points, and Martin follows, leaving the three adults to talk.

Peter notices first as he tries to leave the conversation. Too many people and his patron were tugging at him more than normal, and it wasn't as if he was hungry. The kid was gone, well, both kids were gone. He could see them walk off hand in hand to an older woman on a bench. He knew his patron wanted the child to mold them to become an avatar. He didn't know why, nor did he want to ask, but it was quieter over there, and he couldn't handle this argument any longer.

"Peter." Elias crossed his arms.

Peter hated that expensive suit on him. He could rip it off take what he wanted, and Elias knew that, and he probably wanted him to. "The kids are gone."

Elias blinks and swallows. "I right you are."

The woman frowns. "I'll be back."

Peter swallows. "Wait.... ok, just wait." The two look at him. "It's not just mine, is it? That kid you want him to?"

Elias's eyes widen, realizing what Peter was getting at. "The one kid... Martin Blackwood, your... The Lonely wants him?"

"Our mother has her desires as well." The woman quirks her brow. "I was not informed that this would be a competition. I seem to be disadvantaged as it seems to be two against us."

Peter shrugs looking at Elias.

"The other boy...... Jonathan Sims, he's already the Eyes." Elias frowns. "That doesn't explain, Martin."

Peter begins to walk off and eventually vanishes from sight.

Elias frowns. "Peter, wait, we can discuss this." He knew that meant nothing. Peter was in the lonely and he couldn't see him there. He was frustrated and confused he needed to figure this out. Those kids weren't kids he knew that much, but he didn't know what they were except for... Jon he was an avatar of the eye, but he was so young, and he didn't understand that.

The woman just walked off, knowing she was defeated for the moment.

......

Something shifted, and Elias knew it immediately as if the eye was sastified. No, that wasn't the right term for that he felt.

".... a bet." Elias shuts his mouth as fast as he could, his teeth clicked together.

"Not quite." Peter appeared from the mist. "More a friendly visit than asking to wager."

"... Peter, I wasn't referring to us." Elias leaned back in his chair. "The Eye seems to have taken a wager. I've never been able to truly interact with my patron before it seems almost as if.." He stops himself and rubs his temples. "Not important, I suppose. Why are you here?"

Peter hums leans over Elias's desk close to the other man's face. "It seems my patron wants me to stay more often than be on my ship. Some something kids and so forth. Perhaps it has to our patrons taking a page from us."

Elias rolled his eyes. "Not from us, from something they won't let me see."

"Spoilsport, is the bed still on the table all knowing?" Peter grinned at the slight nod. "I'll try not to bring the mist around."

Elias sighs. Sure, he wasn't exactly against Peter staying with him they've done that plenty of times. Even through two different bodies of his. He supposed he did miss having Peter close, but that was just old emotions talking. He also did not want to give Martin the sastifation of that divorced comment. Maybe he'll allow himself a weakness for Peter. He shudders as he feels praise in his entire being. His patron liked that? He needed a drink.

.....

"I like spiders." Martin holds the small common house spider in his hand, cradling it as gentle as he could with his small hands.

"I do not." Jon rolled his eyes. "But I tolerate them for you."

Martin frowns, letting the small creature down. "I think they want me to pick."

"What?" Jon looks at Martin in surprise.

"I mean, why else would the three of them surround me? It seems the fears remember their fuck up, and it wants me to join one of them." Martin shrugs. "Honestly, I don't know what to pick when it comes to it. I like being normal, but I know that won't last long. I might have to do something rash if I'm stuck reliving my childhood again."

Jon never pried into Martin's childhood, nor did he press when he flinched away from the subject. He never even asked why he hated oolong tea. "Is... I... uh."

"She never hurt me physically, I don't think. I got bigger than her fast, so I don't think she thought it wise to do so. It was verbal abuse the resentment of having ne while my father abandoned us. I did my best to care for her even when she did get sick. A lot of good that did me in the end. I would rather not go through that again." Martin sighs, brushing his red hair out of his face.

"I uh I didn't know." Jon frowns. "What else could you do?"

"Don't know if you haven't noticed we are children and don't exactly have that freedom being adults bring." Martin crossed his arms. "And just because you're two years older than me means nothing in this context."

Jon chuckles softly. "Kiddnapping?"

"You're terrible." Martin smirks long used to his partner's humor.

Jon pauses as his eyes glow. "I believe Peter Lucas is pulling strings with the wealth he has for you."

Martin groans. "Still probably better than the alternative. Wait wait Jon is he with Elias?" His tone wasn't laced with fear or even wariness it was amusement.

"I uh I don't know?" Jon huffs, and his nose bleeds. "Can't say... they don't want me to know."

Martin pulls out a napkin he shoved in his pocket when Jon's grandmother got them ice cream. "Here, and uh, sorry. I just wanted to know if they're still in their divorced era."

Jon laughs and wipes the blood from his nose. "Divorce era? Martin, they can't get married yet."

"Ok, fine, breakup era." Martin grins as Jon laughs harder.

......

The next time Jon sees someone of familairty, it isn't Martin to his annoyance. It's Elias in that perfect too expensive suit and that smirk he always seemed to wear. It didn't feel right to call him Jonah unless he was truly upset with him. Currently, he knew he was just annoyed.

"Jonathan, come here." Jon's grandmother motions for him to come closer. "Why didn't you tell me you've been offered a scholarship?"

Jon scowls the best he could, but again, it comes out as a pout on his lips. "I didn't think I won it." A lie, but he honestly wanted to see what Elias was planning.

"Of course you won it." Elias smiles and holds his hand out. "Oh, I was just discussing with your lovely grandmother what it entailed. You'll be going to a private school all expensive paid, and I'm sure you'll make lots of friends."

Jon bit back a groan. He learned a few things from Elias in this moment. One, the man has little to no experience with actual children. Two, just because he couldn't sweet talk anyone doesn't mean his grandmother is swayed. Three, Elias was a idiot and did not realize how bad he was in primary school. He hums. "It sounds fun."

Jon's grandmother pauses and nods. "I do have stipulations. However, I'm sure we can work something out."

Elias smiles and follows the old women inside to the table, and as much as Jon would like to watch Elias squirm under the gaze of his grandmother. He didn't want to bother he already knew he was going, and he should pack.

.....

Gertrude wasn't exactly happy, nor did she expect to see the scene when she checked into work with Gerald behind him. The young teen barely escaped his mother and clung to her like a lost puppy. She did make a promise, and she is all for keeping them. "Elias children here, really?" Her tone dry and void of real emotion except annoyance.

The dark skinned boy with the impossibly green eyes stared at both of them. He had a frown on his lips but quickly returned to his book in his hands, choosing not to intervene even if he wanted to help save Gerry.

Gertrude knew that book was too advanced for a child his age, but she said nothing but stared at Elias with her arms crossed.

"Oh Gertrude, this is Jonathan, but he perfers Jon. Poor thing doesn't have parents, so I took it upon myself to take him in." Elias smiles that golden tongue working overtime.

Gerry caught the child rolling his eyes, but he chose not to say anything.

"Oh, out of the kindness of your heart?" Gertrude shook her head and marched toward startling Gerry, who quickly followed her deeper into the archives.

"Elias, it's not 200 years ago that not exactly how that stuff works anymore." Peter appears holding a sleeping Martin in his arms. "I mean, at least you didn't say you picked him up at an orphanage."

Jon snickers softly.

Elias rolls his eyes. "I told you to bring the boy to my house."

"And I told you we shouldn't separate the kids." Peter huffs. "This isn't our wager."

Elias stiffened and narrowed his eyes. "Just keep them out of my office." He turns and starts to head to his office before stopping. "Peter, why don't you get the kids proper clothes and food whatever kids these days like."

"Kids these days?" Peter swallowed a laugh. "We're you ever a child Jonah?" He smirks as Jon covers his mouth, hiding a giggle.

Martin stirs slightly but isn't fully awake.

"I don't find amusement in that comment. I was a child once, and I don't like like one like you, Peter." Elias scowls, turning back to face him.

"Oh, how scary." Peter rolls his eyes. "Just because I'm younger than you doesn't mean I'm an idiot. The world has changed." Something shifted, and he finally let his feeling spill from his lips something that someone like him could ever tell another. "Our patrons they've changed, we both know it, and so does everyone else. Don't you want to know why? Have your plans even changed? Does the..."

Martin opens his eyes with a huff annoyed his nap has been disturbed. "Because they learned." His lips curled to a frown, and a frustration can be seen in his features.

"They what?" Elias raised his brow, stepping closer.

Martin huffs and curls into Peter, hiding his small body in the lesser of evil men.

Jon frowns. "You heard him." He sighs. He should rip the bandage off. "We came from 2019 or 2020, and we weren't children. Your little apocalypse, Elias, didn't exactly bring about good things for the patrons their resources after their purge they realized were limited and finite. You can stop death, but eventually, people will just stop being scared. The end didn't enjoy it either they didn't want an end to everything besides the namesake. The web helped us their was a crack in the universe in hill top road. Turns out that crack was a way back to the past, and we fused to our younger self, so did the patrons. It's not exactly pleasant to have the emotional control and energy of a child again."

Elias stares at Jon in shock.

Peter's eyes widened, and he unconsciously held Martin closer in his arms. "I fucking told you."

Elias swallows and crosses his arms. He can feel the Beholder testing him on his next moves. "Bring the children to my house, Peter, and if you must order a take away."

Peter sighs he knew this was Elias's, well Jonah's way of conceding he was wrong and that he needed to think. "Alright, come along, little Jon. I think we have to get you both new clothes and actual food."

Jon nods and walks up to Peter, holding onto his side. "Don't drop him."

"I'm not allowed to." Peter hums.

This sastified Jon more then he realized.

......

Peter regretted his choice in the mall immediately. To crowded and too many people. There are too many emotions and too much fear to feed on. He felt sluggish, and the weight of Martin in his arms seemed to focus him enough that the bags in his arms didn't slip.

Jon looked up at Peter. "I think this is enough for now. I would like to head to that house, Elias mentioned."

Peter nods, and the mist surrounds them, and they appear in an ornate home. He drops the bags and hefts Martin to his shoulder. "I'm.... I'm going to lie down." It seems like he has forgotten he is carrying the boy, and Martin does nothing to alert him comfy in the embrace.

Jon opens his mouth just to shut it, seeing Martin fully relax. He was tired too, but the couch looked nice, and well, he had a feeling Martin missed being held, and as an adult, he knew not many could hold a man over 6ft. He moved to the couch, picking up a plush cow Martin picked out and promptly fell asleep.

......

Martin woke up to a wet feeling, not exactly an embarrassing feeling because he saw the fog as he opened his eyes. Peter was out cold next to him, holding him like a stuffed animal. Maybe he didn't hate the man he was obvious to what Elias was truly planning, and Jon did kill him. He didn't forgive the man, nor did he want to become an avatar of the Lonely, but maybe he could pretend, he never did have a father figure he could recall and honestly Peter is much better then Elias.

A lone spider landed in Martin's gaze.

"I haven't decided." His voice is small and quiet as to not wake the man next to him. "Just because you guys learned and are willing to learn more about humanity as a whole rather than fear doesn't mean I have to choose now. Besides, I have time, also tell the Beholder the answer is a firm no. They have Jon, and I would rather not be all-knowing." Martin shifts and struggles out of Peter's grasp. Finally, he escapes without waking the man. "I should add if any of the other patrons get involved, we should be informed."

The spider quietly seems to nod and vanish in the fog.

......

Jon peers over his book, spotting Martin, who promptly climbs on the couch next to him. "How was your nap?"

Martin shrugs. "I feel like a wind-up toy, and I know it's because we're kids, but like I miss being able to stay awake the entire day. I also miss tea and the ability to get food for myself." His stomach rumbles at the comment. "And don't you say anything. I know you're full from the fall alone, Peter collapsed from how full he got, and he barely even spoke a word to anyone."

"I wasn't going to say anything of that nature...." Jon puts his book down and looks at Martin. He was adorable, pouting his red hair bounced with slight curls. "We could perhaps see what Elias considers food."

Martin groans. "Fuck he probably just has tinned tuna and crackers."

"Maybe he has sugar if we're lucky." Jon snickers, jumping off the couch, letting Martin follow.

"I don't know. He seems pretty basic. Sugar might be too spicy for him." Martin giggles as Jan starts to laugh.

"He probably doesn't even know what proper food tastes like." Jon smiles.

"To be fair, I have caught Jonah eating plain bread as a treat." Peter appears behind the two startling Martin, and Jon doesn't seem bothered.

Martin huffs. "As funny as that is, don't sneak up on me!"

Peter yawns. "It tends to be my nature." He looks to be in more casual clothes and wearing eye covered socks Elias gave him as a joke. "I'll make you both something."

"That depends. Can you actually cook?" Martin crossed his arms with a pout staring up at the man.

Jon joined in his gaze.

Peter shrugs. "I use seasonings."

Martin shrugs. "Good enough."

"Also, Elias is banned from the kitchen." Peter hums. "Well, as long as I am here, he is."

......

In the kitchen, Martin watched Peter work around the kitchen. He was still the same rough looking man he met as an adult. He was probably lying about how old he was. He knew becoming an avatar meant the patron would hold onto you as long as they could, but he knew Peter was younger by Jonah by a wide margin. However, it doesn't seem to change Peter. He still looks like a rough man in his 30s, and the white hair from the lonely didn't help him look younger, and his cheery voice did not match the scarred weather face from years on the sea. His beard was shorter than he could recall, but that didn't really matter.

Peter paused, letting the meat sizzle on the stove. "So what are you two planning?"

Jon shrugs. "The end of the world won't happen." He frowns. "I haven't actually thought of that."

Martin hums. "Short term, or long term. In the long term, I'm marrying Jon. In the short term, I uh try to figure out how to be a kid again."

"That is a good, long-term goal." Jon hums.

Peter plates both of the kids' food and sits in front of them. "I don't envy your position, nor do I totally understand what you two have done to the fears. However, I know I'll be sticking around. My patron has made their wishes clearly known, and it gives me an excuse to ignore my own family even more."

Martin raised his brow to the food. It smelled good but looked like a mess. He cautiously takes a bite, and his eyes light up. "I suppose I can't get a cup of tea with this."

"At your age? No, I can, however, make some hot chocolate." Oeter turns back and fills the kettle with water and places it on the stove.

"I must admit you do know how to cook." Jon sighs.

Peter chuckles. "You learn a lot on the sea and different parts of the world."

"Apperently." Jon huffed.

.......

Elias stepped into a quiet home, which wasn't abnormal per se. Even if Peter was here, he didn't make much noise unless they were together, but now there were kids here. Well, not kids, but adults trapped as kids, so he expected more noise. The graceful Beholder has blocked his view of the two kids, and he always had a hard time seeing Peter due to the Lonely, so he really had no idea what they truly were up to. So when he made his way into his perfect home, he expected a mess at least, but nothing seemed out of place.

Peter looked up from the couch. "Elias." He was flipping through a book Elias knew was about the sea. To the left, Jon was reading War and Peace, and to the right, Martin was curled up next to Peter with a book of poetry. "You look surprised."

"I simply expected a mess." Elias responds dryly and clicks his tongue. He noticed Jon have a smirk he knew exactly what their patron had been telling him. "Did you at least get them clothes, feed them?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "Yes, I fed the kids, and I got them new clothes. Next time, you take them to the bloody mall. Unlike you I have experience with children." He didn't elaborate why or how. It seemed to be something that Elias didn't even realize.

"Aren't you adults? What's with the toy?" Elias had that obnoxious smirk on his lips.

Jon glared the best her could at the man.

Martin huffs putting his book down. "Unlike you who seems to thrive off of stale crackers and loneliness more than Peter, we actually care about comfort."

Peter bites back a snickers at Elias's offered expression.

Jon giggles.

Elias sighs and pinches his brow. "Just get food tomorrow and make sure they are clean."

"They aren't pets." Peter blinks, realizing something. "You really have no experience with children, do you?"

"I have no use for experience with children Peter." Elias rolls his eyes.

"Let me enlighten you, Mr. Know-it-all. Martin and Jon are too small to clean themselves no matter how adult their minds are. They have the emotional and mental capacity of children, which means shorter attention spans, excess energy, and the need for naps along with the fact using any of our patrons power is even more of a strain on their tiny bodies. Even though Martin hasn't picked it, he will have to, and again, they are physically children they could just as easily kill themselves by accident."

Jon scowls but sighs with a nod. "I could clean myself up mostly on my own, but Martin is smaller than I am, so he would need help. Peter isn't exactly wrong about our physical and emotional limits either."

"I mean, I was 6 when my father left, so I ended up having to care for myself. I mean, I'm not 6 yet, but I'm close enough, so I already know what to do." Martin hums.

"Didn't your mother care for you?" Elias stares blankly at Martin.

"Nope, I was her caretaker for as long as I can recall." Martin blinks and is confused when Peter sits him in his lap. "I mean, it's not a big deal. Really, I only regret dropping out of school to care for her."

Jon curses under his breath. "Martin, are you ok?"

"What? Of course I am. I've got you, and we aren't dead, and we don't have to worry about the end of the world." Martin makes an odd noise of confusion when Peter wraps his arms around him.

"Alright, it's still early enough. Let's get some food for breakfast." Peter vanishes in fog holding Martin.

Jon looks at Elias with a raised brow. "I... hmm.... Isn't Peter part of the Lonely?"

"He is." Elias furrows his brows. "I've never seen him act like that. Although I only know his past before the full becoming of an avatar, then it's out of my reach."

Jon frowns. "I see."

The silence seems to stretch until Elias leaves to his bedroom, and Jon heads to his room.

......

"Why are we here?" Martin blinks in the florescent lights of the supermarket.

"You need something for yourself." Peter hums.

"I don't." Martin sits in the shopping cart watching the items pass him by.

Peter frowns. "How long have you've been on your own?"

"Isn't that what you want?" Martin looks up at the man with a bored expression.

"You're a child Martin, no matter how old mentally you are. How long have you been alone?" Peter had a look Martin couldn't describe in his eyes.

"I'm not alone anymore." Martin shrugs. He has never really seen the problem with it he had a shit life growing up, and he got over it, realized the abuse, and moved on. He never understood why Jon always made it a big thing. Now Peter was making a thing of it, and he didn't really want to stick to the subject.

"That's not the point." Peter sighs. "How about I tell you something Elias doesn't know, and in return, you pick out food you want."

Martin raised his brow. "I'll accept that."

"You know of my family." Peter pauses as Martin nods. "I had siblings none of them were really built for what mother planned for us. I ended up like this a favorite of our patron, but I wasn't always alone on my boat. I never had a wife, but I had a child, not mine, just a little stole away on my boat. I was barely 20. It does seem so distant now looking back. Well, my patron didn't like that small girl.... I've forgotten her name only lasted a few years before they were taken. The thing about being lonely isn't just being alone it's also having things you loved ripped away, leaving you isolated and even more so lashing out in anger refusing to even attempt another step out of line. Didn't stop me for long, probably how I stumbled upon Jonah. I knew my family was a big benefactor to the institute, but I never knew why until him." He sighs. "That's a lot of nonsense in there, but you get the point."

Martin looks away. He knew Peter was awful at explaining himself or anything that related to him. He also knew Peter was lying about the only one kid. He didn't really understand what Peter was trying to tell him, but he'll humor the man and nod. "I want... I want chocolate."

Peter hums and nods. "Ok, a chocolate." He knows that isn't something personal or significant, but it was a start. He can see himself in Martin, but he wouldn't say that out loud.

Martin frowns at the look Peter held. Maybe he could ask for something else, but he can only recall his mom looking at him with disgust, "You're too old for that." "I didn't raise you to be a retard burn that thing." "Be a man you disgrace" "Speak damnit you failure." "I didnt ask for a broken son." He shut his eyes and felt a tear slip. The wave of emotions finally crashed into him, and he started to cry, getting overwhelmed.

Peter dropped the bar of chocolate he picked out out of shock. Did he say something? Did he make a face? He rushed to the side and took Martin out of the cart. "Are you ok?"

Martin only cries harder, clinging to Peter like he was his lifeline.

There were eyes on them, and Peter hated the eyes. He vanished in a fog, quickly traversing the Lonely to a quiet park. Was the offer too much? Did his story make him cry?

Martin hiccups and clung to the man, burying his face into Peter's shoulders, overwhelmed and over stimulated.

After what feels like hours, the cries are quiet whimpers. Peter takes a breath and doesn't force Martin off of him. "Did I do something?"

Martin, unable to talk, shakes his head the best he can in his position. He takes a breath.

"Can you talk?" Peter pauses, feeling the boy shake his head. "Ok, that's fine. We don't have to talk."

The quiet looms over them as the sun dips below the horizon. A large plush crochet spider seems to appear next to them it was gray with black eyes.

Peter narrows his eyes at the toy disgusted that the Web was interfering. However, Martin also saw the plush and grabbed it and held it close to his small frame. "You want that?" He can feel the boy stiffen and shake lightly in his arms. "If you wanted a soft toy, we could have picked up one earlier. You did insist Jon got that cow." He felt Martin shift, and those blue eyes stared at him with an infinite amount of sadness in them. "I'm not telling you you can't have it, but it is from the Web.... however, I think I can let that slide since you seemed charmed."

Martin swallows he mouths a thank you, unable to make the sounds.

"Do you want to head back to get cleaned up?" Peter internally cringes at the sense of confusion at a choice the boy seemed to hold.

Martin holds up the spider in his hands as an answer.

"Yes, I already said that will come with you." Peter sighs. "Alright, you need to get cleaned up and head to bed."

Martin relaxed and clung to Peter as they went back to that house.

.......

Elias crossed his arms, staring at Peter. "I may not be well informed when it comes to children, but you shouldn't be bringing a five year old home after midnight."

Peter blinks. "I didn't realize it was that late." He adjusts Martin in his arms

Elias sighs. "Just take the boy to bed he can get cleaned in the morning."

Martin was awake, glaring at Elias and shaking his head.

Peter shrugs. "Bath first, and then I'll join you in bed, Elias."

Elias relents shoulders sagging. "Fine. Use our room's bath. There's a seat in a tub so he can sit comfortably. I assume you got him proper sleeping clothes."

"Yes, the boy got pajamas." Peter rolls his eyes and heads to their room. Elias follows behind him until they end up in the bathroom tub full of warm soapy water and a half asleep Martin in said tub.

"I may have underestimated how small the child is." Elias stares at Martin, who wasn't big enough for the seat in the bath, and Peter only filled the tub a quarter of the amount.

Peter hums. "So, Mr. Know-it-all has a blind spot, and that's kids."

"Shut up, Peter." Elias is kneeled next to the other man helping with keeping Martin upright since he looks ready to pass out. His sleeves rolled up incredibly high.

"Thanks for the help." Peter sighs. "He tired himself out."

"I wouldn't have to if you brought him home at a reasonable hour." Elias says with no real bite. "What did happen?"

"I don't actually know. Lad just broke down. The Web offered him a plush spider, and it seemed to calm him enough to stop crying."

Elias scowls at the memtion of the Web, but that crochet thing didn't even seem dangerous, and he could even use his powers to describe it as nothing more than string balled together. "Why didn't he grab one when you were out earlier?" He pauses seeing his partner shrug. "I see. Well, then I have my own research to do in the meantime."

Peter nods along. "He seems too skinny for a boy his age, doesn't he?"

Martin looks away, unable to force any noise out of his mouth as a protest to being looked at like this.

Elias studies Martin like he was under a microscope and pauses seemingly listening to something. "A child his age shouldn't be skinny he should still have a roundish body with hints of baby fat. Signs of neglect of a child are low body weight, emotional outbursts, and small stature." He blinks and takes a breath. "Don't."

"I'm not going to say anything." Peter didn't even crack a smile. "I don't wish to scrutinize him anymore." He pushes Elias away and pulls Martin out of the bath and in a warm green towel. "I'll put him to bed."

"I'll bring that.... spider to his room." Elias gets up, leaving the room holding that toy in his hands.

Martin sways on his feet from exhaustion, letting Peter dress him like a doll. He didn't make a sound as he was carried to a large bedroom and tucked into bed, and he definitely didn't see Elias tuck that spider under his arm as he drifted off.

......

(Nonverbal)

Jon blinks, looking around. His voice is quiet, and he pulls himself from his bed. "What?" He's used to random facts and looking at things he wants, and maybe smiting others, but not his Patron talking to him. He didn't think it was possible for them to have thoughts like humans. Maybe they did something more when they stopped the apocalypse. He would have to put a pin in that as he pulled his door open and made his way to the room next to his.

(Nonverbal)

Jon paused as he stared into the cracked open door to Martin's room. "What are you talking about?" He was quiet as he pulled the door open wider to spot Martin with a plush spider in his lap, obviously handmade since robots can't crochet. He was curled in a corner and pulled his blankets around him.

(Nonverbal)

Jon gave a frustrated sigh. "What are you trying to say?"

Martin looks up from his makeshift nest and has a look of fear in his eyes. He opens his mouth as if he is trying to speak, but nothing comes out but a breath.

(NONVERBAL)

Jon covered his ears, knowing the voice was in his head, so it was useless instinct. "I get it!" He shouts back and steps back as Martin shrinks away from him. "N-no, not you... I uh... Martin, can you speak?"

Martin shook his head and clutched the spider close to him. His eyes seemed to plead that he didn't want Jon to be mad at him.

Jon blinks, that was new he never thought Martin could ever do something like this... coming to think about it, he knows barely anything about his partner's past or his mental and physical health. Martin probably knew more about him than he did about him. "I didn't mean to yell." He slowly approaches as Martin trained his gaze on him. "Turns out the Eye can talk now."

Martin tilts his head.

(No more)

Jon stops and stays in place a few feet away from Martin. Ok, he was getting the hang of this. "I uh wow, this is weird." He made a split decision and sat down across from Martin. "I uh didn't know this could happen. I made a promise that I wouldn't look into your past or mind, and I will keep that. So this is new territory, and I don't know how to help."

Martin blinks clearly confused, and he places the spider down in his lap. He then looked frustrated and opened his mouth again, but no sound escaped.

(Scared)

"No." Jon stops, and a red blush creeps around his neck. "N-no Martin isn't scared he's just he's, uh..." He huffs. "This would be so much easier if you didn't give one word answers. You cryptic bastard."

Martin smiles and shakes in a silent laugh.

(Closer)

Jon takes that as an ok to slide himself closer to Martin, and Martin pulls him the rest of the way. "I uh ok. This is ok?"

Martin nods and holds Jon's hand.

(Jonah)

Jon pulls Martin close as Elias rushed in. Both kids stare at the man with wide eyes. He was in a tank top and boxers. His hair was a mess, and by the sound of heavy footsteps behind him, Peter was following. He pinched the bridge of his nose and took a breath. "Jonathan, I expect you not to screech in my head at seven in the morning."

Martin shakes again in a silent laugh, noticing he trail of red marks all over Elias.

(Not proper for children)

Elias's eyes widen as he stares at Jon.

"I didn't say anything." Jon's voice was quiet but held a smirk to it.

Elias covers his face. He couldn't yell at his patron. Hell, he had no idea they could even talk besides dropping facts and sights in his head.

Peter finally came into the doorframe, confused as Elias was covering his face, and the red that tipped his ears was a dead giveaway that he was embarrassed. He could count on one hand how many times he has caught the other man in his multiple bodies embarrassed. "Elias, the children are fine. Why did you shove me out of bed and run off?"

"The Beholder speaks." Jon smirks. "The Beholder speaks, and they can't speak to one at a time."

Peter pauses, scratching his chin through his beard. "Oh, that's hilarious."

Elias huffs and turns to walk back to his room.

Jon chuckles softly.

Peter looks back to the two children. "Well, I'm up, and I'm not going back there while he's like this. How about some breakfast?"

Matin nods and gets up, holding his spider with one hand and Jon's hand in the other.

Jon follows behind. "Shouldn't you get dressed?"

"I have an apron." Peter hums in response. His soft, cheery voice did not match the man it belonged to in the slightest. Even as a man born into extreme wealth, his body was littered in scars, probably from his ship. He was chiseled like a god and had more body hair than either man realized.

Martin is more surprised he doesn't have a tattoo of an anchor but one of a lighthouse.

"I don't think that's sanitary." Jon makes a face.

"You'll be fine." Peter hums, grabbing an apron that says women fear me fish want me. "Besides, what do you want?"

Jon hums. "I want something sweet."

Martin shrugs.

"Ok, pancakes then." Peter hums and gets to work. He makes quick work of the batter and hums a sad melody or a sea shanty, Jon knew, but Martin didn't care to ask.

"You're of the Lonely." Jon states as a fact staring up at the larger man.

"I am, but you have questions." Peter hums. "Let's see how much more polite you are compared to Jonah."

Jon nods at the go-ahead. "Do you have to be alone?"

Peter chuckles. "I've never liked crowded spaces. It's not a requirement. You can be lonely and be in a group. Isolation isn't just physical. Unless you're my mother, and she'll have her own opinions as truth. I prefer to be alone, not just because I'm an avatar, but because it's easier to feed myself without overeating. That doesn't make much sense." He sighs. "Unlike your patron, the Beholder, I don't actively have to feast on someone's fear or statement or information. We're more like the Web than what Elias likes to claim. Crowds and cities like this breed a specific kind of isolation fear that well, it's a bit too filling in a sense, and it's constant and never goes away. On the sea I can pick and choose what I will have, I guess."

Jon didn't expect the answer. He hums. "But why the sea you can get the same thing from hiking or caving."

"Don't like the buried kid." Peter narrows his gaze before smiling again. "I like boats and I like the sea so that's why."

"Yes, yes, you're a sailor at heart." Elias interrupts. "I will be off to my archives don't burn the house down."

"I don't like fire." Peter raised his brow.

"I was not talking to you." Elias sighs. "Just keep them entertained, and you can tell me about your newest trip on the Tundra." Elias knew the man liked to talk about things he liked and sadly himself was not part of that.

Peter's grey washed-out eyes seemed to shine. "I'll hold you to that, Jonah."

Elias sighs and turns his attention back to the two kids. "And Peter, take them out today. We need food, and they need things to keep them entertained. I will not have them run around the archives unchecked."

Jon frowns. "I want to head to the archives."

"Whatever message you would like to send can be done at a later date nobody is in dire danger." Elias sighs.

(Wrong)

Jon locked eyes with Elias.

Elias sighs. "Get changed out of your pajamas, and you'll be away from Martin. I will not bring both of you."

Martin pauses and seems to realize something, and he nods frantically.

Peter raised his brow but doesn't ask.

Jon nods and leaves Martin's side rushing upstairs to get dressed.

(Gerrad has cancer and has never seen a doctor)

Elias blinks. "Huh, so young as well. That's a shame."

(Help him)

"That's what Jon will do." Elias hums.

Martin looks to Peter and points, which causes him to stop breakfast from burning.

"Thanks, lad, but I guess it's a you and me day today." Peter smiles. "Do you like boats?"

Martin shrugs.

Elias sighs. "Have a good time. I don't expect this will take all day."

(Bonding)

Elias can hear Jon groan from a top of the stairs.

.......

Martin didn't exactly know how they ended up at a book store, and by the look of it, neither did Peter. He found a boom on spiders he used to own before in the future he didn't really want to think about that, but he wanted it. He also found another book he tried to balance while also carrying his plush spider. He tripped in front of Peter.

Peter caught him before he hit the ground. "What did you find?" He grabbed one of the books and turned it over it was about the sea and sea creatures. "Did you get this for me?"

Martin nods quickly he opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. He looks annoyed but resigned.

"Don't force it." Peter ruffles Martin's hair. "Thanks for the book. I didn't think they made books about the stuff I like. Well, I mean, they probably do. I just I don't look, I guess." He watches the boy point to a section that was labeled deep sea science. "Well, I don't think Elias would mind if we bring home some books."

Martin holds up his book on spiders.

"You know what, how about you get a few more different types of that. I wager the Web and the Lonely want to share you." Peter chuckles, then pauses. Can someone be an avatar of two fears? Maybe he should probably ask.

Martin nods excited, running off to a different corner as Peter starts to pick out a large stack of books.

The cheery moment was interrupted by a man with a cheerful tone and the smell of ozone. "Well, if it's a shock to myself, Mr. Lukas, I didn't expect you to have a child, let alone be in public of all places."

Peter frowned, holding his bag of books. "Simon."

The elderly looking man with a nice cane chuckles. "Relax yourself. I'm merely here to talk to that little one of yours. The Vast seems especially interested in this little fellow." Simon chuckles, pulling out a piece of strawberry candy from his pocket.

Martin hid behind his plush spider.

"Oh ho a scary little spider, huh? Such a cute little boy." Simon hums. "Oh, the folly of youth, how's Jonah doing, er it's Elias now, right? I rather liked his previous body, but sickness isn't kind to anyone, even those of the Eye. I have been meaning to ask if it is odd being with him in different bodies?"

Peter sighs. "Simon, this isn't appropriate discussion in front of a child."

"Ah, right, where are my manners. I merely came by to check up on Elias, but I ended up here. Instead, distances are a tricky thing. It's nice to finally meet you Martin, oh you've got eyes on you and not just Jonah." Simon waves and vanishes in the smell of ozone and the feeling of vertigo.

Martin clutches onto Peter. His voice was quiet, but finally, sound came from his lips. "I don't like flying."

Peter chuckles. "Neither do I."

......

Martin blinks, staring at Elias and his, oh too expensive suit covered in stains and probably fresh blood. "Uh...."

Jon was equally a mess with a scowl on his lips. "Gerry went to the hospital and is getting treatment."

"Ok, but..." Martin tilts his head. "What happened?"

Jon covers his face. "It's a long story."

Elias takes a breath. "I'm getting Peter. Do not look for me." He leaves with a huff.

Martin opens his mouth before Jon shakes his head.

"Don't ask."

Martin shuts his mouth.

#the magnus archives #tma #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #peter lukas #annabelle cane

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the-not-so-dark-age · 6 months

Text

Some random thoughts on Daenerys and Rhaegar's role as character to serve Daenerys' story

Thinking again about "the dragon must have three heads" and I'm 99% sure it's all meant to be Daenerys, she is the dragon and her dragons are the three heads

She needs no men to fulfill her destiny as the Prince(ss) Who Was Promised and as Azor Ahai, rather all the men who will try to be another head of the dragon will bring pain upon her or themselves, and Quentyn Martell imo is proof of this; Young Griff won't likely ally with Dany and rather cause more destruction and while I hope Jon won't kill Dany like in the show I think he'll be a bigger problem if he's resurrected and comes back a LOT different. These men don't make things easier for Dany but rather they are actual or potential obstacles for her in her mission to save the world (Quentyn is already dead but surely Dorne won't be happy that he died due to Dany's dragons while she was absent and after she had married another man even if he proposed)

And of course Hizdahr isn't one of the three heads even if I don't think he's actually plotting against Dany (he's still very suspicious tho)

But aside from all the proofs we already have in the book and that are kinda explicit (like the "born amidst smoke and salt" etc) I think another proof is Rhaegar.

Yeah the guy himself. I've just said Dany needs no man but I think Rhaegar having some positive usefulness to the plot of a female character would be nice

First of all, something that really hit me in ACOK during the House of Undying chapter was the scene Dany saw of Rhaegar, Aegon and Elia and how Rhaegar looks straight into Daenerys while he's saying "There must be one more. The dragon has three heads".

Daenerys is the one more head. She is the dragon too at the same time, Drogon/Viserion/Rhaegal being the three heads; but Daenerys wasn't born yet and Rhaegar was convinced he needed to fulfill the prophecy, be it with Elia or Lyanna.

Second proof is again from the House of the Undying visions, the one of a dying prince in the water which is 99% Rhaegar: as he died he said a woman's name...and I think it was "Daenerys". Not Lyanna, not Visenya (if he hoped for another girl to recreate the original conquerors trio), not Elia nor Rhaenys

Daenerys wasn't born yet the moment Rhaegar died on the Trident but we know many characters have prophetic dreams so maybe in his very last moments Rhaegar understood he didn't need to make Elia or Lyanna give him more children...because Daenerys would be the person he'd waited for his whole life. He should have just waited a bit more and he would have met her...

It would be extremely bitter and it fits Martin's style, it would make you wonder if it had all been for "nothing", if Rhaegar didn't need to kidnap Lyanna etc (even tho the rebellion had other causes and Rhaegar and Lyanna are just one of them, and sooner or later someone would have surely fought against a king like Aerys II)

Third proof which links Rhaegar to be himself a proof that Dany is TPTWP is another dream Dany has in AGOT, after the miscarriage and while she has a high fever: she sees a knigh in black armor, Rhaegar, but when she opens his visor she actually sees her own face. I think this could mean Rhaegar, the man who was considered to be the prince that was promised, the last dragon is just the herald to the real last dragon, the real prince that was promised, the dragon with three heads: Daenerys.

His whole existence has been about that: first he believed to be the prince, then he understood he had to make way for the prince and that was Rhaegar's life mission. So while he did make a mess for "nothing" since TPTWP wouldn't come from his blood (in the strict sense of parental relation - again for me because I'm almost sure it's Daenerys and not Young Griff nor Jon Snow), in some way he may still "help" in recognizing and finding the real TPTWP even if he's doing it in other people's visions and he's long been dead. And more so, this would give Rhaegar a much more active role in Daenerys' arc rather than just being a mythical and nostalgic story people tell her, putting him as a concrete and "positive" (in the sense his character won't directly harm Dany) contrast to Viserys, who's had a deep impact on Daenerys but on the negative sense since he was an abuser to her.

#does this make sense? no #that's how it goes 🤷🏼‍♀️#asoiaf #daenerys targaryen #rhaegar targaryen #the prince that was promised #azor ahai #tptwp #agot #acok #my post

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iforimaginary · 8 months

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The Humorous Creation Tale of The Magnus Institute’s HR Department:

My boyfriend and I have been sitting on this absolute gold mine of a headcanon and taking the mick out of it every chance we get in any fan-works of TMA we happen to create.

Small Disclaimer: This short story leans pretty heavily into Jonelias with a decent bit of Jmart on the side so if that isn’t your cup of tea, I apologise in advance.

Without further ado, let me paint you a picture…

↓↓↓

Ever since Jon had received the promotion, Elias has been getting rather tactile. It’s nothing you might regard as remotely worrying at first- a gentle touch of the elbow as he brushes past him in the corridors, an affirming hand on the shoulder after a particularly successful statement follow-up, a linger of his fingers upon Jon’s as he’d hand over a misplaced file. All in good faith… Jon would tell himself. It’s not like he particularly minded and it seemed like a frivolous concern to schedule a meeting over so he let it fly by.

To say that the situation ended up sorting itself out would be a blatant lie. As a matter of fact, it seemed to progressively get more severe and certainly way more noticeable.

Not only would Elias’s loitering contact grow more tenacious, but Jon’s schedule would appear to fill up with increasingly more impractical performance reviews. He was however compensated fairly enough with extended breaks and his superior’s persistent reminders that he absolutely ought to take more time to rest between his quests of digitalising archive data.

That all ended up succumbing to it’s final boiling point when Elias took it upon himself to give Jon a massage while he was seated in his office, door wide open, recording yet another trivial statement. Sometime during that encounter Jon allowed the other man’s artful hands to get lost under the unbuttoned collar of his shirt as he tipped his own head back to rest on Elias’s shoulder. He still didn’t particularly mind and the predicament definitely seemed to surpass any kind of concern one might schedule a meeting over.

However that would no longer be Jon’s call to make as Martin, who carelessly left his umbrella behind at his desk in the middle of British October, happened to witness the entire affair with incredibly sober clarity.

A few strings were pulled and one firmly but delicately worded conference with Elias later, a shiny novel HR Department was now in operation at The Magnus Institute under the supervision of none other than Martin K. Blackwood.

Needless to say Martin remained the only member of this particular department, which suited him just fine as actual HR concerns at the time were very few and far between (save for Tim’s pamphlets droning on about ridiculously short holiday allotments discretely slipped into the suggestion box). His primary heed was focused upon putting a stern halt to the ‘workplace harassment’ that Jon insistently argued against by trying to convince his researcher that, as far as he was concerned, it didn’t make him all that uncomfortable and could hardly even teeter on the edge of what would by definition be ‘harassment’. This however did nothing to sway Martin.

Soon enough Elias had a perpetually growing pile of small printed warning slips taking up precious drawer space which in a short enough span begun turning into fully typed HR Violations presented on intimidatingly yellow card paper. But sadly, as these things always tend to go, not much truly meaningful action ever ended up talking place. Who does one deliver the violations to when the one ‘violating’ is the head of an independent non-profit institution?

And so a new routine developed like clockwork; Elias would so much as graze past Jon when navigating The Institute, receive a glaringly yellow envelope the next day and proceed to stash it along with its predecessors. Eventually he learned to be more careful as he could only afford to allocate so much desk space to Martin’s inconsequential little game.

In the end all that really had to change was the ever late hour of Jon’s scheduled performance reviews…

#the magnus archives #tma #magnus pod #elias bouchard #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonelias #jmart #short story #tma headcanons #crack treated seriously #yes this does insinuate that the institute operated without an hr department before hand

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itssomethingcosmic · 1 year

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MAG 129

Thematically, this episode is just mmmmmmm so tasty 👌👌👌

We’ve got one of only “Buried manifesting as a fear of drowning” statements in the show after Jon described the door in his mind…

A constant pressure. Sometimes a few drops slip through and I’ll know something.��‘And if you open it?’ I drown.

Then we have this interim for Jon’s descent into the Coffin; setting up the concept of “anchors” — personal ties to another person that are strong enough to pull you out of the Fears’ hold.

And in that time, we also get this very important, very emotional scene between Jon and Martin…

This conversation was so important for them to have though?? Like, not only was it an opportunity for each of them to iron out their previous relationship to show each other how much they’ve changed (Martin has more confidence in himself, Jon immediately corrects his old, defensive tone to trying to express his vulnerability properly)

But in an episode about anchors, and about saving someone from an oppressive hellscape… two deeply lonely people have an awkward conversation when all both of them really want is the other’s connection.

One is convinced that he needs to do this in order to save the world.

The other doesn't fully understand, but trusts him completely. He leaves the door to empathy, compassion, and love open.

#the magnus archives #mag 129 #a mag a day #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #yes i made myself cry writing this

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a-mag-a-day · 1 year

Note

be MAG 82 - hair dying session

That episode title! Eyewitnesses! HA! xD

Martin is such an icon, starting the interview like a statement XD Also, he feels more comfortable with the tape on? Web!Martin?

Martin totally knows it wasn't Jon. There were two monsters on the loose last time he was in the Archives, he knows both of them wanted to kill Jon. He apparently tried to show Daisy, but it's too distorted.

Daisy immediately trying to intimidate him by suggesting to pin it on Martin himself… I hated her so much when I was first listening.

DAISY "Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close." MARTIN "What? [Inordinately pleased] Did they? I mean… I mean, who said that? I, I, I guess, I mean, more than the rest, yeah okay, but–" - Martin immediately getting flustered at the implication is sooo good!

Tape recorder clicking back on and Tim only says "Seems about right"… He'll do the same in MAG 92 when Elias tells them, that their life is tied to him and the institute; "That sounds about right." This is him now. Angry, yet numb.

ELIAS "Killed a man in cold blood? Certainly not. He doesn’t have the stomach for it." - That will backfire amazingly! :D

DAISY "Still a John Doe." [ELIAS CHUCKLES] "I say something funny?" ELIAS "Nothing. Just remembering an old joke." - What was that about? Just being amused at how well Leitner disappeared from the face of the earth? Or something I don't get here?

At this point we didn't know anything about Elias' powers. But it's pretty clear now that he's got some kind of clairvoyance. In MAG 80 he says he knew Jon was talking to someone and now he claims to know everything about Jon's whereabouts. And it's going to get more fucked-up in about a minute or two…

"The thing was utterly still, save for a lipless, scabby mouth, which moved so fast it was almost a blur, silently mouthing words that only Calvin could hear. I know they were for him, because with each movement of its jaw, the thing’s long, pointed black tongue would shoot out and flick itself into his ear." - This is so cool!

I love those constant shaky breaths of Daisy during the statement, one time even a quiet mumble when Elias gets to the part of killing Calvin.

So Elias has now successfully convinced Daisy to leave himself and the institute be for now and to only focus on Jon and even fed her more ("my advice is to kill him quickly. There’s no telling what he might be capable of.") to be harsher with him. This way he makes sure Jon gets marked by the Hunt and also tests Jon's abilities to talk himself out of it.

I'm very on the fence with Tim thinking Jon really killed Leitner. He backpedals on Sasha since he's also aware that there were two monsters. With his rage for Jon, I can somehow see how much he just WANTS Jon to be the killer, even to that point that he gets a bit irrational about it. Also the situation with Sasha is really getting to him…

TIM "Maybe it ate her. Maybe it was her. Maybe she was always some messed up mutant and we just never noticed." - :/

We did get the first implication that tape recorders can click themselves on in the S2 trailer already, but only now since Leitner it's going to be reaaaally crazy.

I didn't get the John doe joke either

#a mag a day #tma #the magnus archives #episode asks #mod ashes #tma spoilers #Mag 82 #lycanlovingvampyre

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thezolblade · 10 months

Note

Okay so about the proposal thing. If Jon and Martin were to get married, I kinda have the feeling that no matter what route they were in, Jon would stil be the biggest briezilla ever and would definitely make some poor wedding planner's life hell. Anyway how do you think a wedding/married life would work out for them?

Heh, I hadn't thought as far as this before these marriage asks, but once I started wondering, it was very much a matter of 'yep, he would'...

Jon would sure have some perfectionist ideas about the event. Depending on the timeline, it could play out as:

1. If they do the paperwork during the worm siege as a financial/medical safeguard, they'll plan to wait until they're out of danger to throw a party, and if it takes a while before they're in the clear, maybe make it a vow renewal.

2. If they marry in a relatively good patch, they'll both feel pretty hopeful and enthusiastic, even if they're still working out some issues. Jon would be hyped about finding an interesting venue, looking into renting an event space in a manor house or renovated castle with some colourful local history. He'd have an initial idea of a reasonable budget for an event, determined not to get taken in by businesses that charge higher prices for the same service if the client says it's for a wedding. Then everything he really wants would be more expensive than expected, when it all adds up, and he'd get into into arguments over the phone, maybe sometimes getting a discount, other times getting dropped as a customer and having to go elsewhere. Martin would try to help, then get a bit tired of Jon saying his input is welcome but shooting down most of what he actually says. Eventually he'd convince him that a wedding planner would be worth the fee, to get everything coordinated. After adjusting the budget, Jon still considers it a worthwhile use for a portion of his savings, which are made up of his parents' life insurance, minus what he spent while studying, topped up by what he's saved since starting work. As for the guest list, Jon would want to make it small but 'prestigious', and invite the other department heads, the rest of the Archives team (if they're still on speaking terms), and the university professor who gave him a reference (even though they haven't spoken in a few years). Some of those acquaintances show up even though they're a bit surprised to be invited, and some decline the invitation. At least one of them is up for arguing with Jon about the local folklore, helping him settle his nerves. Martin invites his Mum, and says he understands if she can't make it to the venue, what with her health, but it'd be good to have a phone call on the day, while bracing himself for disappointment. (Either she agrees out of obligation, they have an awkward phone conversation for a few minutes, and then Martin breaks down a bit in private about nothing ever being enough, while Jon tries to comfort him. Or she doesn't pick up the phone, and Martin halfheartedly tries to talk Jon out of calling the care home reception, until he gets through and blackmails the staff into putting her on the line, which results in an even more awkward conversation, and mixed feelings. ) Jon always felt that his closest surviving relatives were too distant to get in touch with, but he might dig out his grandmother's old address book and send out some invitations anyway, figuring that if he's ever going to contact them, this is the time. He barely remembers his grandmother putting him on the phone with them when he was a little kid, and doesn't expect to necessarily get a reply now. Some of them do respond, and even fly out to meet him, happy to see how he's doing now that he's all grown up. Spending time with living family again affects him more deeply than he'd have anticipated, and he resolves to keep in touch, now that he's truly getting his adult life established. Martin's glad to meet them too, though the day gets a bit overwhelming all in all.

3. In a dark route, if Jon takes over the institute and keeps Martin close until he's worn down, then he'll only propose once he knows that Martin's committed to working on their relationship as the only avenue for improving his life. Even if Martin's still unhappy about a lot of issues, he'll resign himself to trying to talk Jon into doing better someday, even knowing that he might go the rest of his life without changing Jon all that much. They still can't help but love each other, and he has nowhere else to go, so he might as well devote himself to that kind of hope, and try to enjoy the good days, even if he expects to be unhappy more often than not. Once he's said yes, they'd have a bit of a honeymoon phase, and Jon would try to encourage his loyalty by rewarding that kind of progress. He'd let Martin pick the venue, somewhere scenic in the countryside, and agree to make it a break from any work-related creepiness (no talking about fear entities, or ghosts, or anything like that). If it ended up raining, Jon would be pretty annoyed about the one thing he can't control, but Martin would assure him that it's okay, he doesn't mind the rain, honestly, he actually likes this kind of atmosphere. They'd stick to the marquee while their guests are around. Later on, they'd go for a walk after changing into casual clothes instead of suits, so they can get soaked and then retreat to their hotel room to peel off the clinging fabric. Martin gets shivery from the cold and nerves. Jon promises to warm him up.

#heart of the disaster #tma thoughts #rozzlynn's fanfic

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torscrawls · 2 years

Text

Subtraction and Addition

I wrote this for the Spring In The Archives event! Check it out if you crave some nice TMA art and writing with the theme rebirth, renewal, healing, and growth.

Words: 4,606

Also available on my AO3!

---

When Jon gets out of the Buried, Martin is there waiting for him. And good thing, too, since apparently sacrificing parts of yourself for others have consequences.

But how big of a difference can someone being there make? And can shared pain lead to healing?

Or is Jon too far gone to do anything other than take?

---

Jon’s chest ached. The space that had, until very recently, hosted two of his ribs throbbed with a muted kind of pain that was entirely foreign and very unwelcome. He bit down on the groan that threatened to slip past his lips as he forced himself to stand up straight.

Daisy was waiting for him, even if she didn’t know it, and he couldn’t waste any time. He had no right to leave her to suffer simply because he was weak. He was just—

Jon shook his head as he approached the coffin, gripping his torch tightly and ignoring the way his hands trembled as the lid slid open for him. Inviting him.

He had no right to be afraid. He was just a—

Jon took the last few steps with the calming weight of the tape recorder in his hand. He looked inside and swallowed hard at the stairs going down and down and down. He had to go in. He had to try and save Daisy, to do something good. And if it didn’t work out, well.

He was just a monster.

Jon stepped inside.

The ache in his chest grew until it was too painful to ignore, until Jon found himself almost glad for the distraction of trying to find his way towards Daisy–if only the tunnels didn’t become narrower and narrower the further he went. He tried to convince his panicking brain that he had expected this; he was in the domain of the buried, after all. Even so, he had the creeping suspicion that soon enough his aching chest would be the least of his problems.

He was right. And of course this would be one of the only times he was allowed to be right about something.

The last moments—minutes, hours, days— inside the coffin were agony of a new kind and Jon would be surprised if he came out the other side with any of his ribs still in one piece. He was fairly certain that the only thing allowing him to continue to move forward was his newly acquired healing abilities, and for the first time he found himself grateful for the inhumanity that had been forced upon him. At least he was putting it to good use.

After what felt like an eternity, as he finally managed to find Daisy’s hand in the cramped and oppressive dark—grabbing it tight with stiff and aching fingers—he refused to let go.

They fought through their constricting surroundings and Jon’s world narrowed down to the next breath and the next, almost insignificant, inching forward. After some time had passed he found himself almost grateful for the pressure around his ribcage; at the very least it made the pain from his missing ribs blend into everything else. Breath, inching, breath, inching, breath—

Jon struggled to press them forward the tiniest amount and then, all of a sudden, there was nothing.

The sudden arrival of free air was such a foreign feeling after so long in utter confinement that at first, Jon didn’t realize that they had made it out of the coffin. It wasn’t until he felt a pair of hands grab his shoulders to steady him that he stopped pushing forward. Real human hands that were soft and warm, not hard and scraping and cold and unforgiving. They yielded as he stumbled to a stop and Jon almost sobbed at the sensation.

And that seemed to be the key his senses needed to flood him with light and feeling and relief. It was all too much and it almost made Jon stop breathing, even though this was the first time in far too long that he could actually make his chest expand and finally breathe.

He sucked in a desperate breath and it hurt.

“Jon?” A familiar voice asked and the word was tinged with worry, with more emotion than Jon had heard from it in much too long. The mere sound of it transported him back to the first few months down in the archives; before everything had gone so horrible wrong. Before he had messed everything up.

Jon sucked in a labored breath. “Martin.” It was all he could manage at the moment.

The first thing his struggling eyes could make out was Basira as she pushed past him with a frantic, “Daisy!”

“Are you alright?” Martin asked and Jon managed to focus on him and his kind and worried eyes—but had they always been so washed out? Had they always been so sad?

His brain struggled to make sense of what was happening as he heard himself give a breathless laugh, “Yeah. Yeah I found her.”

“You did.”

And he had, hadn’t he? He had managed to save someone. Finally he was the cause of something good happening. Maybe now, things would start making sense.

Jon breathed out a relieved sigh. Martin was here, he was safe. They were all safe. Wait… Martin was here??

“What are you doing here?!” He didn’t mean for it to come out as accusing as it did, but he had barely seen Martin lately, and now he was standing in front of him and—

And still holding his shoulders tightly. Jon found that the touch was comforting, even though it lacked the expected warmth.

Martin averted his gray eyes in favor of looking down at the floor with a barely noticeable blush coloring his cheeks. The reaction was pale in comparison to the ones in Jon’s memories, but it was a reaction nonetheless. “I might have stacked some tape recorders…”

“That was you?” Jon frowned, both at the prospect of Martin going out of his way to help him, but also at the feeling of pain refusing to give up its place in his chest. Was it still centered in the place where the two ribs had been? He could barely remember anymore. His encounter with Jared felt like a lifetime ago. It would be fine, he was sure that his healing would take care of it.

“I thought it might help you find your way back,” Martins said with a shrug as he let go of Jon’s shoulders—who in turn had to fight against the instinct to immediately reach out and grab a hold of Martin again, scared that he would lose him again, that he would simply disappear. The touch had been something physical, something that proved that Martin was really there.

“I think it did. I tried to—” Jon had to stop and take another breath. “I tried to use a part of me as an anchor, but I guess it wasn’t strong enough.” He hadn’t really meant to say that, but he found that he was desperate to keep Martin there for as long as possible. Jon had—Jon had missed him and didn’t want to watch him disappear again.

Martin took a deep breath, hesitated, before sighing and asking, “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but what part of yourself?”

Jon wheezed out a laugh as his eyes tracked Basira carrying Daisy out of the room. Neither of them spared him a second glance. “My rib.”

“Is that what that was,” Martin said with a disgusted look on his face and a quick glance over his shoulder at the bone in question.

Jon took a breath to answer, but it did nothing to alleviate the burning need for oxygen. He tried again.

Martin looked back to him and the worried frown was back on his face. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He couldn’t make Martin worry, not when this was the first conversation he had had with him in far too long. He refused. So Jon nodded even as he took another gasp of air. The pain in his side was rapidly taking over an increasing portion of his focus.

But apparently he hadn’t done a good enough job with covering it up as Martin pressed on with, “What’s wrong?”

This time, Jon hesitated. “Just… tired.” He had to pause to suck in another breath, “I think.”

He got a sudden, and quite painful, impression that the Beholding was displeased with him. And for a confused second he couldn’t fathom why—

Oh.

It wasn’t happy that Martin was there, that Jon wasn’t alone in this suffering.

Martin, oblivious to all this, nodded solemnly. ”I guess I can understand you being tired. You were gone for several days.”

Jon couldn’t contain a small, surprised huff of a laugh. “It felt,” another breath, “longer.”

“I bet!” And Martin smiled.

It wasn’t a big smile, like the ones he used to give, and it was tinged with worry, but it was the most expressive that Jon had seen him since he woke up from his coma.

It was the best thing that had happened to him in as long as he could remember.

Jon smiled back and took a breath to thank him for helping him, even though he knew that Martin was busy with his plan connected to Peter, but he found that the breath didn’t give him enough air to speak, so he frowned as he tried again. And again.

Maybe he was worse off than he had initially thought.

Jon realized that Martin was talking, the same worried crease between his eyes as before, and did his best to listen over the sounds of his own wheezing breaths and managed to catch the end of a sentence, “…get you somewhere where you can lay down, alright?”

Before Jon managed to draw enough breath to say that moving right now probably wasn’t the best idea, Martin had grabbed his shoulders again and started to drag him forward. Jon had thought that he had missed the contact, but now he found himself panicking as he stumbled before they had managed even a single step; his legs giving out from underneath him.

Martin gave a shout of surprise and the worry in his voice was palatable—even to Jon’s dwindling awareness—as he said, “Okay you’re not alright. Really, Jon, what’s wrong? You sound really winded.”

Jon took a breath to try and ease Martin’s worry and almost growled in frustration as it did nothing. He was mortified to find darkness creeping into the edges of his vision and promptly sank to the floor, almost dragging Martin down with him.

Jon gave up.

“I can’t breathe,” Jon wheezed out, cursing himself when it came out as little more than a strained breath.

Martin sank to his knees next to him, his hand fluttering indecisively in front of Jon without touching. “What?”

“I can’t—” Jon tried again, running out of air halfway through and sucking in a desperate gulp of air as he gestured desperately to his throat and gaping mouth.

Martin paled. "Oh shit." He cast a glance over his shoulder at the table, at the rib, and asked, "Is it because of that?"

Jon hesitated, unsure, but for once the Beholding gave him the answer without a fight; the space where his ribs had been, which was now suddenly empty, was collapsing his lungs. Being inside the Buried had applied enough pressure to pause it—not to mention the Buried hadn’t wanted him to die too fast and therefore he simply hadn’t—but now that he was out, his lung was deflating faster than his body could heal it. And of course; you couldn’t heal what wasn’t there anymore.

Jon realized that Martin wasn’t privy to the same information he was, and was therefore still waiting for an answer, so he gave him a shaky nod.

Martin sucked in a breath of his own and Jon envied the ease with which he did it. “Alright. Alright. I—I don’t know what to do! Should I ask Jared to put it back? Should I try to contact Elias—”

Martin stopped and Jon didn’t know if Martin expected something of him; if he wanted him to come up with an answer or reassure him, but all Jon did was to try and take another breath as he fought with the encroaching blackness in his vision. It was all he could do currently.

Martin swore under his breath and the last thing Jon heard was a slightly hysterical, “I’m so stupid! I’ll just call an ambulance!”

——

Jon came to in a white room and the first thing he registered was that someone was holding his hand.

He could barely remember the last time someone willingly touched him.

Before he had the time to take in anything else, the Beholding helpfully, and ruthlessly, supplied him with the information on just how close to death he had been.

The third thing his sluggish mind realized was that the person sitting next to his bed and staring emptily at the wall was Martin, and at first Jon thought it might be the harsh light, in combination with his still foggy head playing tricks on him, but no; Martin really was slightly see-through.

Jon tried to ask, “Are you okay?” to keep Martin there, to bring him back, but the attempt made him acutely aware of the tube running down his throat, rendering it impossible to speak. So instead he settled for a small grunt and squeezed Martin’s hand as much as he could, hoping it would be enough to reach him.

Martin jerked slightly, turning his gray eyes to look at Jon and after a tense few seconds—or longer, Jon had a hard time focusing—he gave a small smile. Jon hoped he wasn’t imagining the way Martin seemed to get more present.

He desperately wanted to return the smile but before he knew it, he was waking up again. Jon hadn’t meant to fall back asleep, and he nearly cursed himself for missing his chance, but as he blinked to clear his eyes he found that Martin was—miraculously—still there. This sight of it left him slightly stunned.

To his relief he found that the tube was now gone and Jon carefully cleared his throat as he slowly pushed himself upright, but before he could get very far a hand met his shoulder and pushed him back down. Jon looked up into Martin’s now light blue eyes and raised a silent eyebrow in question.

Martin shook his head. “You need to rest and heal.”

“I’m fine,” Jon countered and as he said it he knew it was the truth. There was nothing physically wrong with him anymore. He was fine. Fine.

But of course Martin saw right through that. “Not only physically.”

Jon shook his head. “It doesn’t matter.” It hadn’t mattered for so long.

“You can’t keep on giving parts of yourself away!” Martin exclaimed and Jon was surprised by the emotion in his voice.

But then he blinked and frowned and countered with an indignant, “Says you! You are almost completely gone! Are? Were?” Jon paused and blinked again. Wait. “You’re here.”

Martin looked very tired as he nodded. “I am.”

And he was. Not only here but here. More so than he had been in months.

The realization made the fight leave Jon’s body and he let himself fall back to the bed, but his eyes refused to leave the man sitting beside him; scared that if he looked away he would simply disappear. Again.

Memories of the last time he had woken up in a hospital bed came rushing back to him; finding out what had happened to Daisy, to Martin. To Tim. And before he knew it he was blinking back tears. “Do you—do you know if I can leave?”

“I’m not sure,” Martin said with a voice that was soft enough to tell Jon that he probably knew exactly what Jon was thinking about. “I called for the doctor when you woke up so they should be here soon. We can ask them then. But… Just so we’re clear, I’m not letting you go home by yourself.”

Jon’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, his panic momentarily forgotten. “Excuse me?”

Martin’s cheeks colored red even as he soldiered on. “I’m not letting you go home by yourself right after you almost died on the office floor.”

Jon was too stunned by the implied offer to produce more than a stuttering, “I—but you—” He stopped himself, too scared to mention the Lonely with Martin still slightly blurry at the edges. And besides, what if Jon pointing it out made him take it all back?

After being shown some modicum of kindness after so long without, he found himself starved for it—desperate not to lose it again. The thought of going back to how things had been made him feel sick, so he took the coward's way out and changed the subject. “I need to go to work and—” He cut himself off, gaze sliding to the ground in shame. “You know, get some statements.” And it said a lot that he would rather talk about this.

And Martin—kind, caring, loving Martin—even after all his time in the Lonely, crossed his arms and simply said, “Well, I‘m certainly not letting you go to the institute by yourself! What if something happens?? The ambulance almost refused to come because we were there.”

And for some reason that made Jon laugh. “That was a good call by the hospital.”

“Don’t laugh,” Martin admonished him with a smile of his own before giving his shoulder a comforting pat as he sent him a knowing smile. “We can swing by the institute on the way home. Pick some up.”

That made Jon hesitate again, and not only because of the blatant acceptance of his less than human needs. “Are you sure you’re fine with that?” You don’t want to be alone?

Martin sucked in a deep breath and now it was his time to look to the floor as he spoke, “I’m sure. I—”

But that was as far as he got before they were interrupted by the doctor coming in.

They started the examination without any preamble and Jon got the distinct feeling that the doctor was desperate to get through it as fast as possible, so Jon did them all a favor by ignoring the doctor’s blatant surprise and numerous cautious glances sent his way.

Another good call made by the hospital; sending someone in who seemed to know enough about the fears to be cautious.

Maybe from a first hand experience? And the thought was so very sweet, so enticing, he just had to—

Jon furiously pushed the thought down as he refocused on the people in the room, doing his best to remain motionless; nonthreatening. He desperately missed Martin’s hand in his.

After several tense and quiet minutes the doctor stepped back with a troubled, almost annoyed, “You seem to be completely fine.” They dragged their hand through their hair and muttered under their breath, “I’ve never seen someone get back up from a pneumothorax in one day, but I guess I shouldn’t be—”

They cut themselves off with another glance towards Jon and Martin and Jon hated the fear he saw there. Jon didn’t need the doctor to tell him how miraculous this all was, how improbable. How horrifying.

“Then I’m free to go?” He didn’t want to stay there under their watchful eyes any longer than necessary; no matter how hypocritically it was for him to feel that way.

“I can’t see any reason to keep you here.”

Jon didn’t point out how relieved they sounded as they said it, but instead got off the bed and looked into Martin’s blue eyes, “Great. Come on then, Martin. Let’s go home.”

The smile he received at those words was small, but Jon found himself almost blinded by it.

——

Jon sank down on the sofa with a soft groan and Martin smiled at him as he stepped into the kitchen, calling over his shoulder, “Tea?”

Tea. Martin’s tea. Jon found himself staring at an empty wall. When was the last time someone offered him tea?

378 days ago, Beholding gleefully supplied.

“Jon?”

He shook himself out of his thoughts and called back, “Oh. Ye—yes please!” He hoped Martin didn’t notice the way his voice shook.

Martin came back into the room with two steaming cups and handed Jon one as he sat down next to him. It was so very warm.

The closeness to Martin made him feel more human. Made him more human.

And maybe there was something left of him that hadn’t been completely corrupted after all? Something worth saving? Maybe he wasn’t all monster; all about taking and taking and taking.

Maybe he could still give.

Jon sat there on Martin’s couch, next to the man and with a cup of Martin’s tea in his hands and before he knew what was happening he felt wetness drip from his chin, saw his glasses fogging up.

Martin made a distressed noise as he put his cup on the table and grabbed Jon’s forearms, carefully taking the cup away from his shaking hands and speaking softly, “Hey, hey, hey. You’re okay.”

And Jon found himself repeating the same words that he had uttered just after stumbling out of the Buried, the same words that had refused to leave his mind since, “I saved her, Martin. I saved her.”

Martin’s expression was achingly soft as he said, “Yeah, you did.”

And maybe it was because this was the second time Martin had given him this reassurance, maybe it was because this time around he was much more aware of what was going on, but Jon found himself shaking apart at those words. He had saved her. He had finally been able to actually save someone.

Martin cradled him in his arms and Jon felt like he had never been this close to another human being in his life. The contact was almost too much to bear after so long without it. He could barely imagine what it felt like for Martin; his skin still cold to the touch.

Martin mumbled into his hair, sounding almost reverent, “And this time, I managed to save you too.”

The Beholding oh-so-helpfully supplied Jon with the knowledge that he would have in fact been perfectly fine—physically—even if Martin hadn’t been there to take him to the hospital. Eventually, at least. He would have suffered first as his body tried to heal itself. He hadn’t known until now that he didn’t need to breathe to survive and the knowledge didn’t come as a comfort.

And Jon knew that if Martin hadn’t been there then he would have had to suffer through it all alone. He could feel that the Beholding was put out that it hadn’t received more of his suffering. That it hadn’t had the chance to turn him into even more of a monster.

Good.

He kept that information to himself as he nodded into Martin’s shoulder and tried to project all his gratitude into his voice as he said, “You did. You really did. I know that it couldn’t have been easy for you. So… Thank you.”

Martin swallowed thickly before saying, “I—I’m sorry, but I’m still not completely sure that it was a good thing? Don’t take me wrong, I’m happy that I was there and that you’re okay, but… I tried so hard to distance myself to help everyone. To do everything I could to stop the world from—but then I—I almost lost you and—”

Martin took a shuddering breath and Jon squeezed him in the hopes that it would come across as the support it was meant to be. Somehow, Martin seemed to get the message as he continued with a slightly strained voice, “Why should I try to distance myself if I still end up losing everyone? Am I egotistical for thinking this? I know I shouldn’t prioritize the people I care about in front of everyone else. The whole world. But I—I do. And—and I’m just one person, I can’t��I can’t do it all by myself.”

And maybe Martin hadn’t been as unfazed as Jon had initially thought, because now it was Martin who broke down and Jon who did his best to hold him together. And it was… nice in a heartbreaking sort of way to be needed like this by another person; it was a feeling that belonged fully to the human Jonathan Sims and not the archivist and he reveled in it.

And then Martin’s words caught up to him and Jon found himself blinking at a spot on the wall in stunned silence. Martin counted him as one of the people he cared about.

Maybe the fact that he was sitting in Martin’s apartment with Martin’s cup of tea next to him and practically in Martin’s lap should have been a clue. But… He had spent so long without anyone caring about him, without anyone showing him basic human decency that it all felt so very foreign.

He desperately hoped he could still provide some comfort as he rubbed Martin’s back as he sobbed into his shoulder, "Oh god, what if I doomed everyone?! Gods. I couldn't even do this one thing ri—"

Jon leaned back and grabbed Martin’s shoulders, trying to steady Martin just as much as he had steadied him before with the same action.

"I don't think you did.” Jon hesitated. He wasn’t completely sure about this, but the Beholding refused to give any information on it, which was really more of a give-away than anything else. “When you helped me after the Buried, the Beholding was not happy. I think staying together is the worst thing we can do against all of the fears. They want us separated.”

Martin was quiet for a few seconds. "Yeah, I felt that too. With the Lonely. I thought it was just the usual isolation, but it was very… Angry.”

"Ha! I can imagine." The fear of being lonely and of being isolated would absolutely hate Martin staying with Jon and helping him. “And for the record, I’m—I’m glad you're here." It was harder than he liked to say the words, his mouth unused to kindness, but he was more than willing to practice.

"Yeah," Martin let out a shuddering breath. "Yeah, me too."

"Let's look into the Extinction-business together, alright?"

"You really think just us being together will be enough?" Martin looked at him with a raised eyebrow and a teasing smirk. "I didn't know you were such a sap!"

Jon blushed. "I—I'm not! Honest. But it can't hurt, can it?" And what better way to fight fear than with security and love?

“Isn’t it too late for that, though?” Martin asked with a sad smile.

“Maybe,” Jon shrugged, feigning indifference. “But do you have a better plan?” Do you want to go back to how it was before?

Martin hesitated for a second before letting out a long breath and shaking his head. “….No. No, I don’t.”

“Alright then,” Jon said and he could almost pretend that it was as simple as that.

Martin grabbed his cup again and stared down into the swirling liquid as he asked, “Is it bad that I’m somewhat happy this happened?”

“Are you saying you’re glad I almost died?”

“No! I just mean—”

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I know what you mean. Me too.” Jon looked into Martin’s clear and dark blue eyes. He took a breath and found that it came easier than it had in years. “I don’t want these… these things to get any more parts of either of us.”

Martin nodded. “Let’s fight them together this time, yeah?”

#tma #the magnus archives #spring in the archives #tma fanfic #my writing

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flywolfwriting · 2 years

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Love is Patient, Love is Blind - Ch. 2

Everyone else’s nightmare world ended a year ago, but Martin’s had just begun. He’d waited for Jon to either wake up or die before, but he hadn’t been the one to kill him then. He hadn’t already lost everything.

True to her word, Basira had returned with blankets, food, and water. Even a small heater. He’d woken up with a duvet thrown over him. He could hear her moving around upstairs, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave Jon’s side until Dr. Midec arrived and Basira came back down.

“You have run of the house,” she said. “The back garden is secluded enough that you should be safe to pop out for a spot of fresh air; just don’t leave the property. Lay low.”

Martin only nodded mutely.

“Does he… uh… need any statements?”

Martin shrugged and glanced at Jon. Dr. Midec was changing his bandage. How long had he been asleep?

“Well… I hope not. All of them were destroyed with the Panopticon. The institute is a rehab center now, a place for people to get help with any nightmares they still have.”

Martin didn’t reply. It seemed he had used up all his words when he’d told Basira everything that had happened. What he did.

Basira seemed to understand. Offering a mobile phone, she told him to let her know if he needed anything. She had a few agents - whatever that meant - in the area that would be able to help. She promised to always text the name and a picture of anyone new stopping by and not to answer the door if he wasn’t expecting someone. Dr. Midec had the door code, so he didn’t have to worry about him.

Martin accepted all of this and went to sit next to Jon until Dr. Midec finished. He gave Martin a brief rundown on things to watch for and things he would need to do when the doctor wasn’t there.

Finally, they were left alone.

The silence was torturous. It reminded Martin too much of the Lonely. He had to get up and do something. So he did. He made up his cot with the blankets. He draped one over Jon so he didn’t freeze. He set up the heater in the one outlet in the cave-basement they’d arrived in.

When he couldn’t find an excuse to stay downstairs any long, he finally trekked to the kitchen. He went through the food Basira had brought th- him. It was mostly canned food and things that wouldn’t take long to cook. That was good, because Martin was sprinting down the stairs every two minutes to check on Jon, terrified he’d find him cold and pale and still.

He made chicken noodle soup and went down to eat beside his comatose boyfriend before bundling himself in his blankets and going to sleep.

—————————

“I can’t lose you, not like this.”

The weight of Jon collapsed against him, trembling with strain.

“Tough! Where you go, I go.”

“That’s the deal. Okay.”

“What?”

He knew, but he didn’t want to understand.

“Do it. The knife’s just there.”

A jerk of the head, toward the very thing he was trying to ignore.

“I’m not going to kill you!”

He’d thought about it, but dismissed it. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

“Maybe we both die… maybe we end up somewhere else.”

It was a lie. He knew that. Knew that he was just trying to make him feel better. Convince him.

“Together?”

The cold of the steel, heavy in his hands.

“One way or another. Together.”

His body wasn’t listening; something else seemed to have taken hold of him. He couldn’t do this.

“Are you sure about this?”

Please tell me not to please beg me to put it down please do anything you can to save your life-

“No. But I love you.”

The pained look in his eyes, begging him. For what, he didn’t know. Forgiveness? Release? Whatever it was, it wasn’t mercy.

“I love you too.”

The warmth of his lips.

Then the squelching crunch of the knife as it entered Jon’s body, pushing up under his ribs. His gasp of startled pain, then blood, blood everywhere, sticky and burning hot on Martin’s hands, the smell choking him, Jon falling heavy into him as they were dragged into darkness, the feeling of Jon’s pulsing heart against Martin’s chest and then the sudden stillness and nothing but the blood drenching him-

Martin lurched up, the soup splattering to the cold stone floor. Dr. Midec looked up from Jon, concern evident on his face, but Martin ignored him and scrambled for his boyfriend.

“Hey-“ the doctor started, but stopped when Martin rested his head against Jon’s chest.

Ba-thump. Ba-thump. Ba-thump.

Quiet but steady, and most importantly there.

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

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#my fic #tma #the magnus archives #fanfic #flywolf33 #flywolfwriting #jmart #jonmartin #ao3 #linked #hurt/comfort #hurt jon #emotionally hurt Martin #jon simms #martin blackwood #post mag 200 #time travel ish #please don't repost to another site

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vaulttrust · 2 years

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Jerry seinfeld master of my domain quote

JERRY SEINFELD MASTER OF MY DOMAIN QUOTE SERIES

Jerry dumps his girlfriend Sidra after Elaine convinces him that she’s had some… enhancements …made to her body.

a restaurant that only serves peanut butter & jelly sandwiches.

Kramerica Industries is Kramer’s fictional corporation, serving as the umbrella company for many of Kramer’s wild ideas, including: I know sometimes I spell Jerry with a G…and an I!” 12. I’m sure ‘Jon’ probably misspelled his own name. George: “ (Pulls over) So, what are you saying?” Jerry: “Doesn’t Jon Voight spell his name J-O-N?” Jerry: “Except Jon is spelled with an ‘H’. (Looks at the owner’s manual) Owner’s manual…you know what? This car was owned by Jon Voight.” George: “Hey…you don’t think…sure, that’s Jon Voight’s pencil!” (Opens the glove compartment, takes out a pencil) Ah. George brags about this to everyone, there’s just one problem: George is set to by a new car, but the salesman talks him into buying a 1989 LeBaron convertible instead, telling George it was previously owned by actor Jon Voight. “Yada yada yada” can be used as an interjection when recounting a story that is dull or predictable and not worth repeating, just don’t try using it to get out of paying your bar tab. The fact she seemingly glazed over important details upsets and confuses George. In season 8, George’s girlfriend Marcy tells him that her ex-boyfriend had visited her the night before “and yada yada yada, I’m really tired today”. Do you love old Van Buren as well? Then this is the trivia team name for you. It turned out, this hardcore group of gangsters had a strong admiration for Martin Van Buren, America’s 8th president. However, Kramer was able to save himself by accidentally flashing their gang sign – the number 8. The Van Buren Boys were the New York City street gang that tried to mug Kramer. This leads to Kramer trying to force them on Jerry, and a Junior Mint accidentally drops down from the viewing gallery into Roy’s body, shocking them both. Kramer tries to offer Jerry some Junior Mints, which he refuses. The Junior MintsĮlaine goes to visit her ex-boyfriend Roy in the hospital and Kramer and Jerry come along, watching Roy’s splenectomy from the hospital’s operating theater. After pressing the issue, the owner eventually yells, “No soup for you!” and George’s order is taken away and his money returned. Despite telling George that the owner, known as the “Soup Nazi”, has strict rules for odering, George still complains about not getting any bread with his meal. Jerry and crew visit a new soup stand that is all the rage. It’s perhaps the show’s most famous quote. Kramer: “Well, that would explain Little Jerry’s poor egg production.” 7. Jerry: “Thanks, that’s very sweet, but that is not a chicken.” Jerry: “Is that your chicken making all that noise?” This trivia team name plays off of that quote and will surely get some laughs from the other bar patrons.

JERRY SEINFELD MASTER OF MY DOMAIN QUOTE SERIES

How do you talk about a not-suitable-for-primetime-television topic in an episode of your primetime TV show? Come up with a series of euphemisms to describe it! “Master of my domain” quickly entered public lexion after the episode, “The Contest”, and helped illustrate the smart writing of the show. Jerry and Elaine have no other option but to purchase a cinnamon babka, which Elaine considers a “lesser babka.” 4. However, they forget to take a number and a couple on their way to the same party get ahead of them in line and proceed to purchase the last chocolate babka. While on their way to a dinner party, Jerry and Elaine stop at Royal Bakery to purchase one of their famed chocolate babkas. His girlfriend’s brother thinks differently though: “You double dipped the chip! You dipped the chip, you took a bite, and you dipped again…That’s like putting your whole mouth right in the dip!” 3. The Double Dippersĭouble dipping – fair or foul? According to George, this is a perfectly acceptable action, even at a funeral. His order shocks both his date and the waiter, and Jerry is filled with regret, haunted by the words: “Just a salad.” If you see no shame in wanting to eat healthy, this Seinfeld trivia team name is for you. When Jerry goes on a date to a steakhouse, he orders “just a salad” in his effort to be more healthy. The 20 Best Seinfeld Trivia Team Names 1. But if you need a little inspiration, here are 20 of our favorites. We think you’ll have no problem thinking up a few funny Seinfeld trivia team names at your next pub trivia night. And though the show created by Larry David and Jerry Seinfeld might have ended in 1998, it remains as popular as ever thanks to TV reruns and streaming availability. It’s no wonder it’s been described as a “show about nothing.” But within these stories of life’s tribulations were many memorable scenes, hilarious quotes, and great moments. Following the misadventures of Jerry and his friends George, Elaine, and Kramer, Seinfeld was notable for its focus on the mundane, but relatable, aspects of life.

#Jerry seinfeld master of my domain quote

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fellfirst-fellharder-fight · 7 months

Text

Round 1: Fight 3

John Watson/Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock) vs Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin K. Blackwood (TMA)

Propaganda under the cut!

John Watson/Sherlock Holmes:

Don’t @ me but yeah. John falls first, following Sherlock and doing what he says without question. Sherlock falls harder (literally, ba dum tsh!), sacrificing himself (sort of) to save John. If you know (ie if you were on tumblr btwn 2010 & 2013), you know. a

Jonathan "Jon" Sims/Martin K. Blackwood (TMA):

they're so silly!!!!!!!! they have ruined my life with their silliness. can't believe martin spent 4 seasons pining on this pathetic little man.

martin has has a crush on Jon since about the start of the series,and when he notices that Jon is having trouble due to the horrors,he tries his best to help him out we are only sure that Jon fell in love after Martin did,but it is fairly accepted in the fandom that jon had Fallin in love with Martin at around season 3-4(?) mostly due to the point that Jon was the one to ask Martin to gouge his own eyes with him so that they would both be safe from the horrors,and it is presumably Jon that was able to acquire Daisy's safehouse (a lovely home in Scotland) and was able to convince martin to run away to a different country with him(they lived in London) not to mention that at the end of the series,Jon had decided to use himself to try to slow the apocalypse down to make it barable,but the moment martin was in danger due to that mistake,Jon switches gears and sacredixes himself,the world,and martin,just so he wouldn't have to be alone during the apocalypse if that isn't fell first,fell harder,idk what is!!

martins canonically got feelings for jon since at least the late second season, and aside from a few moments of jealousy and his very obvious doting, he manages to be pretty normal about it. jon realises he has feelings for martin and he literally never shuts up about him. finds any excuse to talk to the man despite martin (at this point) trying to cut himself off from everyone. 'hey martin this woman neither of us care about that actively tried to kill me once is in danger do you think i should save her' as if he has an opinion? and then theres of course the wonderful 'lets gouge out our eyes and run away together 💖' love confession of the century. when they do start dating jon wont stop saying 'my boyfriend 💞💞💞' with the most lovesick and proud voice

im sure you're gonna get so many submissions for them but to summarize: Martin is the one who started writing love poetry all the way back in S1 but Jon is the one who suggested they both BLIND THEMSELVES AND RUN AWAY TOGETHER in S4

#tumblr polls #poll tournament #tournament bracket #tournament poll #tumblr tournament #polls #johnlock #bbc sherlock #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #tma jmart #fellfirst fellharder fight #round 1

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ajkal2 · 3 years

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the essay: childhood trauma, responsibility, and tma. part 1: jon

in a tma fic i published like six months ago, i left an authors note that promised an essay on jon and tim’s trauma to anyone who asked. several people asked, and so here i am!

the fic is called a deeply annoying child. it’s about being a kid and seeing something horrible, and it’s about jon and tim’s rocky relationship.

this post isn’t actually about the fic. it’s a breakdown of jon’s mental state through s1-3. im going to make another post about tim, and then a final one linking it all back to the fic. i’ll chuck links to those on here when they’re posted!

but first, let’s talk about my boy, JON ‘JARCHIVIST’ SIMS.

(fair warning- this isn’t a fully backed up meta post, it’s my interpretation of canon. any thoughts/queries/additions welcome! my askbox is always open <3)

part o: a note on guilt

hey, you know what’s fucked up? an eight-year-old kid with survivors guilt.

as a child, jon watched someone he knew die, due to circumstances that, while they were not his fault, were set in motion by his actions. children (and often teens!) think in black-and-white. complex logic often just doesn’t occur to them. jon, at 8, looks at what happened, and says that’s my fault. i did that. jon didn’t like his bully, and wanted him to go away, and then he did. that instinctive reaction is something i think he never grows out of. when you already hate yourself, it’s easy to pile more fuel onto that flame. he doesn’t think about risk, not to him, because he deserves whatever happens. he let someone die. he doesn’t ever forgive himself for that.

part i: belief (precanon+s1)

now, i have a headcanon about why jon doesn’t believe statement givers, and imma lay it all out for you right here.

when jon was 8, and freshly traumatised, i think he tried to tell someone what happened. beneath all the layers, jon is compassionate, and tries to help people. now, picture this. a kid, one with a history of troubled behaviour and an atypical home life, goes up to someone (a police officer, his carer, a teacher) and tells them a giant spider ate someone. what’s that person, someone who is a rational adult, someone who doesn’t believe in silly things, going to say back? are they going to believe that kid?

no. no way. they’re going to tell that kid that they’re making up stories, that they had a nightmare, that they should stop making jokes about someone who actually disappeared, jon, you need to be more sensitive about these things.

now, that kind of dissonance- ‘this did happen, it was real’ and ‘everyone i talk to is telling me it’s not real’- is hard on adults. to a kid? devastating.

jon, because he’s jon, would have been desperately searching for a way to explain this, and i think the thing he grabs on to is evidence. if he had some evidence of what happened, if he could prove what happened, people would believe him.*

but he doesn’t have evidence. and he resents that, and he resents that so much that by the time he’s an adult he’s settled into a mindset towards the supernatural somewhat akin to ‘i didn’t get believed, but you think you should be believed? what’s so good about you? you think you’re better than me?** fuck you! i don’t believe you!’ this is also a way of keeping himself safe. if the monsters aren’t real, they can’t hurt him.

and then, through s1, that mindset is chipped at. the statement givers start being real people, who come into jon’s office and cry when he dismisses them, and that clearly makes him uncomfortable. martin gives his statement, and martin has evidence. jon knows martin, and knows that he’s a good person, so martin having evidence isn’t likely to be an attack at jon.

jane prentiss attacks the institute, and then suddenly jon’s shield of denial and anger is ripped away, because the monsters are real, and they can hurt him.

*would they? i don’t know. people can be very attached to believing that the world is good, and kids are misguided, and there are a hundred thousand ways to explain away a piece of evidence, as jon comes to know well.

** this ties into jon’s self hatred, as people saying they are better than him kicks him right in the Issues.

part ii: paranoia (s2)

after prentiss attacks, jon is left floundering. his old I Do Not See It mindset has been smashed to pieces, and underneath all the trauma he’s been brutally suppressing is bubbling up. jon has no real experience in judging threats, because for the last 20 years he’s been burying his head in the sand and yelling he can’t see any threats. so he overcompensates, and assumes everything is a threat. his experience re:not being believed tells him that everyone around him is stupid and wrong and the only person he can rely on is himself.

so he investigates. he’s convinced that his life is in imminent danger, that everyone around him is plotting to kill him. he doesn’t hold back, because you don’t hold back in a life-or-death scenario. he knows something is wrong. something is very wrong. he’s sure it’s a threat to him, a threat to his life. but he can’t put a finger on what it is.

this is when his friendship with tim breaks down. i’ll talk about tim in a minute.

jon spirals, and obsesses, and wrings answers out of the ether until it all falls together. he understands what is wrong, that it’s sasha that wants him dead. or, well, not sasha. he’s been winding up tighter and tighter all series, and he lets loose by striking out, acting for once instead of reacting. it is remarkably easy to buy an axe in central london, after all.

and then, well, that doesn’t go well.

part iii: desperation (s3)

after what jon did backfired so badly, he goes to georgie, because he has no other option. and he thinks, what went wrong? and the answer he comes up with is i didn’t know enough.* that’s why it all went wrong, because he didn’t know what he was dealing with. and so the solution is to find out more.

he’s starting to realise that he’s changing.** he wants to find out more about that as well, to control it.

so he goes and finds out more. or, tries to. he doesn’t have many leads.*** jon is not good at judging threat, and doesn’t know the danger he is putting himself in. he’s stubborn, and locked onto getting more knowledge like a dog and a bone.****

and then he does get more knowledge, but it’s the knowledge that the world is ending, and he’s the only one who can fix it.***** he can’t process his trauma. he doesn’t have time. the world is ending.

in late s3, jon is desperate. he’s overworking himself. he feels alone: daisy’s at his throat, elias is dangling information over his head, tim...

we’ll talk about tim later.

basira doesn’t trust him, georgie isn’t happy with him, melanie’s never liked him. he gets kidnapped for a month, and no one notices. the only person jon has firmly in his corner is martin.****** and he doesn’t have time to talk to martin, because he’s getting kidnapped, and jetting across the world chasing shadows, and desperately, desperately trying not to fuck everything up again.

and he doesn’t! they build a plan. it’s dangerous, sure, but jon doesn’t even know what that means anymore. his whole life is dangerous. jon going into the unknowing is cautiously, waveringly hopeful. maybe this time it won’t go wrong. this time they know what to do, they know what they’re dealing with.

and, the tragedy is, it doesn’t go wrong. they save the world. they send elias to prison. it all goes to plan. and tim is dead, and daisy is buried, and jon is lost in dreams.

*👁️ **👁️ ***👁️ ****👁️ ***** he’s not the only one, of course, there are a whole team of people working on stopping the Unknowing, but jon is the Archivist. he’s the heir to gertrude’s legacy.

****** this is where they fall in love, after all. which is a good thing, of course, but it adds an extra weight to every interaction they have, guessing and double-guessing how the other feels, until jon actually can’t talk to martin, not how he wants to, because he’s not sure if they’re there yet. (martin is there. jon doesn’t have time to be.)

see yall next time

i would like to cover s4 and s5, but this post is 1.5k already, and i’ve covered up to when the fic takes place! next time i will be ranting incoherently about timothy stoker, punctuated by bursts on uncontrollable sobbing. when that’s up, i’ll chuck a link here, and on the author notes of the fic i’m doing this for. see you then!

#tma #tma meta #jonathan sims #jon sims meta #character analysis #a deeply annoying child #the essay tag #god this is a mess but w/e posting it anyway

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dannimatic2 · 3 years

Text

The Tapes Are Web And I’m Right: A long, rambling, semi-comprehensive list of reasons why the web controls the tapes and also jon, written as of MAG 194:

1. It's practically all but confirmed that they aren't linked to the Beholding (they appear in the Eye's blindspots like the tunnels and Upton House) and I genuinely just can’t imagine how they'd pull off the "the tapes were actually us, the audience, all along" theory in canon aside from subtext and meta implications, so that crosses the two off as mostly implausible in my mind.

2. How could Annabelle have known exactly when Martin and Jon split up so that she could snatch Martin up the next moment and take him to Hilltop Road, unless she heard the tape of their argument? How could she have known so much about them to be able to use their doubts & insecurities to manipulate them? (Are you truly in control of the choices you make? Does he even need you at all?) She's not semi-omniscient like Jonah, so where does she get all her information from? How does she know so much?

3. There are countless hints linking the tapes back to the Web, including but not limited to:

-MAG 134: It was revealed that Martin piled the tapes on top of the coffin while Jon was still in the Buried to help him find his way out, but he didn’t know where the idea came from, and it’s very likely that the web placed the idea in his mind.

-MAG 147: Annabelle was in possession of the Anglerfish tape, the very first statement Jon ever recorded, and placed it atop her own statement at hilltop road. I can’t think of a single reason for it to be there besides as a hint to the audience of the Web’s subtle involvement with the plot since the very beginning, and the convenient placement of the tape on top of Annabelle’s statement is just screaming that the two are somehow linked.

-MAG 157: Annabelle was the most plausible option as to who left the tape on Jon's desk that led him to try to find the panopticon & save Martin, consequently getting the Lonely mark and ending the world.

-MAG 163: At the end of the episode, a tape manifests in Martin’s bag. He asks it what it's doing there, and at that very same instant, the phone rings. It’s later revealed that it was Annabelle on the other line.

From these examples alone, I’m almost entirely convinced that the Web is behind the tapes. One thing that still doesn’t make sense, though, is the 6 month gap of time while Jon was in a coma. Why would the Web choose not to manifest any tapes during the Flesh invasion, or during Martin’s turn to the Lonely? Maybe it simply wasn’t important to the completion of the world-ending ritual: Jon was comatose, so logically the ritual couldn’t be furthered until he woke up, and the Web had no reason to spy on Melanie as she furiously stabbed a many-limbed eldritch monstrosity triple her size (although I, personally, would’ve paid to hear that go down).

But another explanation may be that Jon himself, being The Archive, is a vessel for Annabelle Cane’s master plan. If we take into account the hints littered throughout the series that the apocalypse was mainly orchestrated and carried out not by Jonah but by Annabelle—the worms being let into the archive when Jon tried to kill a spider, Oliver Banks being compelled by Annabelle to give his statement to Jon (“you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head. Easier to just do what she asks”), the Web compelling Martin to lure Jon out of the Buried by piling tapes on top of the coffin, etc—His entire purpose as Archivist could possibly be better attributed to the Web, not the Eye. We already know that the entities are so fundamentally connected to each other that not one single fear can be brought into the world without bringing along the rest, and many, if not all of them, overlap to some degree. And the Web’s whole thing is manipulation! If the Desolation ritual involves a messiah born in flame, and the Flesh ritual is literally just a bunch of people throwing meat into a gigantic hole, then it would make a lot of thematic sense for the Web, instead of orchestrating a ritual of its own (which we all know wouldn’t work in the first place), to succeed through the manipulation of another entity’s ritual, silently pulling the strings so that another entity, such as the Eye, is unwittingly helping the Web fulfill its plans the entire time. This theory works in the case of past archivists as well: Gertrude used the Web to bind herself to Agnes Montague in an attempt to thwart the Desolation’s ritual, not to mention that she was established to be extremely cunning and manipulative by nature, characteristics more in line with avatars of the Web than the Eye. And it was the Web that brought Jon to the institute, that led him to get marked by all fourteen fears and, ultimately, to end the world.

This could tie the “the tapes are a manifestation of Jon's powers" and "the tapes are the Web” theories into one, explaining why the tapes didn’t manifest during the six months that Jon was comatose, while also falling in line with the evidence that the Web is in control of, or at the very least has unlimited access to the tapes. This would also explain why the tapes only started manifesting around season 2: it was the first point in the series where Jon began fully taking on his role as Archivist and became able to compel people to give him information, the first instance of such being in MAG 61. Not to mention that this ability itself could easily be an extension of both the Web and the Eye: the Eye part being that it's a way to get information from people, and the Web part being the manipulation of one’s free will to do so. Note how Jon compels Floyd Matharu in MAG 141:

ARCHIVIST

[Soothingly] You can go.

FLOYD

Erm… I, I don’t…

ARCHIVIST

Thank you Floyd. You’ve been… very helpful.

FLOYD

C—

ARCHIVIST

It’s alright, Floyd. You just… need a break.

FLOYD

Yeah… Sure.

[RINGING FOOTSTEPS DEPART]

He doesn’t ask Floyd a question. He’s not trying to get any more information out of him. He’s doing what I can only describe as mind controlling him. He plants an idea in his mind that makes him walk off in a daze. It’s unlike anything he had used his powers for before. It reminds me of MAG 59, where Ronald Sinclair made his way down to the basement of Hilltop Road, and every subsequent movement—removing the box from the table, taking out the apple, lifting it up to bite into it—was made not only against his will, but performed with the calmest expression on his face while in his mind he desperately fought against it. It reminds me of MAG 81, where the book lures Jon out of his house, walks him all the way down to Mr. Spider’s doorstep, and balls his hand into a fist to knock on the door.

His being the Archivist could also be why the Web gave Jon the lighter in the first place: maybe he’s the only one who can use it to fulfill their grand plan, whatever that may end up being in the end. Maybe he was meant to from the start.

And for my final and most damning piece of evidence, feast your eyes on THIS:

Thank you for your time.

#warning: it's long and also very likely wrong but I needed to get this out of my system somehow #wrote this all in one night mainly based on memory save for direct quotes so. its probably littered with mistakes #the magnus archives #tma #tma spoilers #mag 194 #jonathan sims #annabelle cane #ok yeah. bye i have actual schoolwork to do #tired: web martin theory #inspired: web JON theory

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janekfan · 3 years

Text

Hostile

https://archiveofourown.org/works/30583040

Jon always needed a strong hand.

Ever since he was small and wandering off without his grandmother’s permission only to be escorted back by disgruntled police.

Elias just wanted him to be the best Archivist he could be.

It didn’t stop the sting. Just reinforced how much he had to learn and how awful he was at this job. He was just being...sensitive, right? The others were fine. They didn’t seem to have any issues, certainly not like him. Meanwhile, it seemed no matter what Jon did, Elias browbeat him. Always gently, always politely, until Jon understood how he’d gone wrong and left in a state of distressing confusion. His employer made it so clear that Jon often felt foolish coming away from his office. If he’d just been smarter he would have figured it out on his own without needing his supervisor to explain it to him in terms he could understand.

He passed Tim and Elias chatting amiably in the hall, burying his nose in the stack of papers he was carrying to make himself as small as possible before shuffling past them. They didn’t seem to notice or if they did, made no move to acknowledge him and the last thing he heard when he rounded the corner was Elias chuckling at one of Tim’s bad jokes, the same one he used to tell Jon at least once a month up in Research. It was inane. Nothing to well, to write home about. Certainly nothing that should have piqued Elias’ interest.

Though, Jon supposed, he didn’t know anything about either of them did he?

“Martin.” Cultured, the smooth voice drifted through the office door, worming its way into Jon’s ear and straight into his already hammering heart. He was ashamed that he couldn’t stop himself from creeping to the door and listening closer. “This is fine work. How long have you been working here?”

“Oh! Uh! Um!” Jon rolled his eyes at the stammering, pushing down a spike of what was definitely not jealousy. Elias laughed, light and easy.

“No need to be so anxious. You’ve been an asset to this department. A good fit.”

“Ah! Th’thank you, Elias. Sir! I mean, I mean sir.”

The man’s amusement was so sincere. Jon must’ve been missing something when it came to himself.

“Ms. James, a word if you please.”

“Of course, sir. How can I help?” Jon pressed his back against the wall, the chill of the basement cement seeping into his button down and sending him shuddering.

“I wanted to thank you for your dedication. I realize things have been fraught, for lack of a better term, since the promotion.”

“I trust in the interview process.”

“I’m sure you do.” Jon held his breath. “And I appreciate your willingness to support this endeavor as it continues to grow. Especially where our new Archivist is concerned.”

“Of course.”

“Thank you again, Ms. James.” Heavier footsteps retreated and Sasha’s headed in his direction. Jon nearly ran from her impending approach, taking refuge again in his office with the thought that it should belong to her echoing in empty space between his ears.

“Jonathan.” He tried not to fidget under Elias’ intense scrutiny.

“Yes, Elias?”

“I received a call from the library.”

“I, I assisted with a difficult case a few months ago.”

“I can’t imagine why, but they are asking for your help again.” It was a cutting remark and Jon fought against the flooding mess of emotions. “They know you’re now our Institution’s newly minted Archivist.”

Oh.

OH. Of course! His impatience was mixing him all up and getting him up in arms before Elias finished speaking.

“Do you know what it’s regarding?”

“I can’t recall though you are making fewer mistakes over time. I do think your efforts would be better focused on your work in the archives, don’t you think? Jonathan?”

“Ah, w’well. Yes. If that is what you think I should do.” He could feel his face heating up, no doubt blazing red with an embarrassing blush.

“I didn’t ask for your thoughts only for you to leave it up to me. You need to be decisive, Jonathan.”

“Yes, th’that is. Yes. I will be.”

“And?” Lord was he ever bungling this.

“I will turn down their invitation.” Elias was no longer looking at him but at his desktop screen with a bored expression.

“Don’t worry yourself. I’ll take care of it for you.”

“Th’thank you, sir.”

“No need to have you tangled up in old efforts.”

“Yes, of course.” Jon shifted from foot to foot desperately trying to keep his hands still, to be professional until Elias glanced back at him in confusion.

“You can go, Jonathan. I certainly don’t want to keep you from your duties.”

It was rare that Jon left his office since taking, stealing, the position of Archivist and the uncomfortable silence that settled over the breakroom upon his arrival was damning.

“Need something, boss?” Tim raised an eyebrow, hiding a frown behind his cup. Jon felt whatever bravery he’d scraped up in the past several hours disappear.

“I, um. I just, Elias?”

“What about him?” Sasha folded her hands, prim and polite as ever since the announcement was made.

“Well, you. You’ve known m’me a while, years really, and. And I think, does, does he--?”

“Spit it out, man.” He flinched at Tim’s bored tone. Tired of him. He shouldn’t have come here.

“He, the way he speaks with me?” Lord, this sounds ridiculous. He was ridiculous, just a sensitive mess. He always did this, turned molehills into mountains. Read into situations and only came out the other side wrong.

“Elias isn’t like that, weird maybe.” Tim sounded so sure, flippant and nonchalant. “He’s been nothing but supportive since our transfer. You’re misinterpreting him or something. You do that.” Jon’s stomach dropped, tears welling up in his eyes as everything he thought about himself was confirmed.

“No, it. It feels like more than that. It. Conversion with him doesn’t. It doesn’t feel right.”

“What, Jon? He’s being mean? Rough having a couple of new responsibilities?” Tim scoffed. “You got the job over someone more qualified, over someone who works harder than anyone--”

“Tim--” He held up his hand.

“Sash, he needs to hear this. Someone needs to tell him the truth.”

“The, the truth?”

Yeah, Jon. The truth. She deserves so much better than this and now her choices are to settle or flat out leave and it’s your fault. All because you couldn’t resist the urge to interview behind her back!”

“That’s not what happened!” Even Jon could hear his whinging, voice high and desperate for one of them to believe him.

“Not from where we’re standing, mate.” Tim crossed his arms and sat back in his chair and when Jon looked to Sasha she merely shrugged. Martin just looked helpless, staring into his tea and avoiding eye contact all together.

“I, I. That’s not.” Repeating himself wouldn’t do anything to save him and he fought against the tears gathering on his lashes. “I’m s’sorry.”

“Anything else?”

No. There was nothing else.

Jon kept to himself, kept his head down, arriving before the rest of them and leaving long after they did. He didn’t want to see them. He’d made a right fool of himself enough for now, unsure if his fragile self esteem could withstand another blow. Really, he hadn’t meant for any of this to happen and there was no way to explain how Elias had maneuvered him so skillfully into this position. Was he trying to drive a wedge between them? Knowing Jon would invite his two closest friends to accompany him? A knock on the door made him jump, reminding him for a moment of a very different and more sinister one from his childhood.

“Jon?” Martin, no doubt with another overture of friendship he was loath to accept. It was easier to remain alone rather than face the hurt of another rejection so soon.

“What do you need?” Caught off guard by his sore throat, he coughed roughly into his elbow, accepting the tea to soothe it with a nod of thanks.

“That doesn’t sound good.” It wasn’t. Now that he wasn’t burying himself shoulders deep in work and self flagellation he was aware of aching muscles and oppressive fatigue, a throbbing at the base of his skull that made him stomach sick.

“It’s nothing. I neglected to drink any water today.” It was true, he realized and Martin didn’t look convinced but Jon didn’t want to go into how miserable he’d been feeling lately. Tired and wrung out trying to avoid them all and figure this out and not have a melt down all at the same time.

“You should take better care of yourself.” Gentle and kind and Jon bristled with it, flustered with the concern.

“I’ll take that under advisement.” He turned away, staring at the messy surface of his blotter to avoid anymore interaction. “I have work to do.” Martin shifted, an expression Jon couldn’t parse on his face when he glanced up at the silence. “So…?”

“Oh! Yes, I’ll be going then.” Another awkward beat passed between the two of them.

“Thank you, Martin.”

Despite feeling particularly woozy it had been a good day.

Elias nodded to him when they passed each other on the way to lunch.

He pointed out a particularly competent piece of research.

Praised how well he was handling the job lately.

It was a shame it was at the cost of his sanity. Jon was falling apart at his poorly sewn seams, every moment another snapped suture and he was pinning himself back together with clothes pegs in a windstorm. Even he knew this wasn’t sustainable. He was going to burn out like a match overextending himself like this. But avoiding his assistants meant he wasn’t able to ask them for help. He’d made his bed. He just wished he could lay in it.

Maybe Elias would approve of Jon taking the rest of the day. He’d stayed late all week. Caught up with work and even plowed ahead a little bit. So when Jon caught him in the hall he tentatively asked.

"Y'you see, I. I've been a bit under the weather and I thought since I'm ahead--"

“Jonathan,” the disappointment in the way he said his name struck Jon like a bolt of lightning and he couldn’t stop the way his face fell. “You’ve barely begun.” Oh lord, he’d read this wrong. So very wrong. “Do you truly think it’s appropriate to ask for time off so early in your tenure?”

"No, of course not. I just meant, I just thought--"

"I find that difficult to believe.” He didn’t bother hiding his contempt. “If there's nothing else?" Jon shook his head, not trusting himself to speak lest he burst into hysterics right here. Elias left him where he stood and Jon took a few moments to compose himself before turning back the way he came only to nearly run into Martin.

"I didn't mean to listen!" He held up his hands in supplication or surrender. "I swear I didn't, Jon."

"S'fine." There wasn't enough left of him to care and when he made to step around the other man found himself stopped by a careful touch at his bicep.

“Wait, um. Please. Does he, does he always speak to you that way?” Jon eyed Martin warily. He was the only one of his assistants he didn’t really know. Why would he care?

“Only when I’ve made a mistake.” When I deserve it. When I’ve failed to figure out what he wants from me and done something wrong.

“It didn’t seem very professional.” Shame ran red-hot through his veins--what did he know?

“I assure you, I was. I was out of line.” Jon didn’t want to be here having this conversation with Martin of all people. He wanted to retreat to the relative safety of his office where he could sit in the dark and continue underperforming at his job.

“Jon, you’re not well.” Martin sounded upset with him and somehow it hurt worse than it did with Elias. At least Elias knew him. Martin by all accounts was a stranger. “You should be at home.”

“No, no, no, you don’t understand.” Jon tore his trembling hands through already bedraggled and greasy hair. He was disgusting. Unprofessional. Sweating through his clothes and unable to focus long enough to make it through even one statement.

"What don't I understand?" Jon's expression turned hard.

"Forgive me if I don't wish to count the ways in which I've failed at my job for you."

"Jon I--"

"Leave it, Martin." And he stalked off in none to straight a line, leaving Martin to gawk at his back.

Jon collapsed against his desk, the old pine creaking under even his small weight, before clawing his way across it to the chair and barely grabbing the bin in time to be sick. With nothing to lose he laid over it, stomach convulsing painfully as he fought to win back tentative control and only putting it back when his own panting became too loud in his head. Jon allowed himself a cry, forehead pillowed on folded arms where he slumped, muffling the pathetic sounds that slipped past him with his teeth; biting his wrist where his cuff would keep the mark hidden.

Tim's unceremonious arrival surprised him and Jon yelped, reflexively running a sleeve over his face to erase the evidence even though he knew it wouldn’t make much difference.

"Martin told us."

"Tol'tol'you what?" Real fear rooted him where he sat, raising the hairs on his arms and sending a thrill up his spine. What did they know? What had he said? Did he tell them about Elias reprimanding him? Proof of his incompetence? Were they here to yell at him again?

"How Elias has been treating you."

"Jon. You do realize it's him being unprofessional."

“You can’t let him treat you that way.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“We would have helped you.”

Like a volley of canon fire each fast phrase pounded against his crumbling defenses and left him reeling with contradicting information.

“You should have said something earlier.” He tried. He just hadn’t tried hard enough and he didn’t know what made the words tumble out of his mouth now but he couldn’t stop himself from blurting:

“I tried!” And he'd known better than to try again and risk another telling off. He was shaking and sick. He didn’t want to be here anymore, wanted to go home. “But I d’did this to myself, didn’t I? That's why you l'let me hear the t't'ruth.”

“No, I was. No, Jon--” He plowed on, overwrought and interrupting Tim, words spilling out of him too fast to be taken back.

“I thought we. W’we were friends. I thought I could come to you when th’things aren’t g’good. Like before, like in research.” Jon scrubbed at his face. “But you just. You hate me. And I know it's my fault. I know I'm not, not fit for this position and I know it's ungrateful of me but I don't want to be here. I’m so tired. I don’t. I don’t feel well. And I’m not allowed to leave.”

“What do you mean?” Tim was a hell of a lot closer than he had been, kneeling on the floor and holding Jon's hands to keep him from scratching himself to ribbons.

“I’ve been telling you.” It came out as a pitiful sob, squeaking past a throat tight from holding back the sea.

“Okay, okay. Just tell us again.” Jon closed aching eyes, hot tears falling over hot cheeks, breath panting and strained in his twisted up chest all tied up and tangled with twine.

“I can’t s’skive off. Elias said.” Like a touchstone a pair of soft hands guided him back in the chair.

“He’s burning up.”

“Doesn’matter.”

“Of course it matters, Jon.” Sasha’s voice came from far away, through a tunnel, wending its way to his stopped up ears through syrup. His next thought slipped away, dissolving in the heat swallowing him up from top to toes. Breathing became harder, impossible, lungs full of caking cement smothering choking snuffing him out like a candle flame.

“Jon?”

“Jon!”

Devoured and spit out again, again again

writhing,

drifting on an outgoing tide of misery and affliction,

waves of agony break over him and suck him under and roll him along the mud bottom of a polluted river and every gasp he snatches at the surface is less and less and less

Clicking, beeping, the chirping of a million birds in a thousand trees and each one wants his attention tick tick ticking away like the blood red hand of a watch and awareness trickles in like hot black tar against the surface of his eyelids.

Fluorescent lights carve their way in between heavy lashes and Jon recognizes the broken sound of denial as his own. A noise, a voice? in the room and the blinding glow receded enough to think about figuring out where he was. He coughed, mouth a desert, and welcomed a spoonful of ice chips blissful and cool against the heat seeping through his veins, his arteries, his skin.

“Jon?” He recognized the sound, the person, the thumb tracing circles over the back of his hand. “Hey, there he is. Welcome back, bud.”

“T’Tim…waz…?” Fairy floss crowded out any thoughts and Jon spent the next seconds trying to come up with more words and failing.

“Do you remember what happened?” Martin took up space next, then Sasha, crowded around him and no, he didn’t. Was barely able to catalogue his body; the deep seated ache, a prickly itch in the corner of his elbow.

“Hos’ital?” Tim nodded, offering up another spoonful and Jon let them melt over his tongue. Lord, he was tired, prying open eyes he didn’t remember closing.

“S’okay, buddy.” He was being so kind. Like he used to be in Research and the last thing he felt before it all faded away were twin sweeps of familiar fingers wiping away tears.

All three assistants were still there the next time he woke though Jon had no idea of how much time had passed. He wasn’t as confused, actually aware of his surroundings and he scratched absentmindedly at the IV taped to his skin. The thin gown didn’t have sleeves long enough to hide the lines left behind by his nails. He didn’t remember clawing himself up like that.

“How do you feel?” Martin looked relieved, tired.

“Uh. Fine, fine.” He plucked at the stiff blanket, avoiding their eyes. “What. I’m s’sorry. I can’t seem to--what happened?”

“You’ve been sick, Jon.” Tim plunked himself down in a terrible plastic chair. “Bad stomach flu, dehydration. You’ve been here for days.” There was a hard edge to his voice and Jon suppressed a flinch.

“S’sorry.” Sasha sat down at his other side, taking up a hand, and Martin offered him a smile.

“Jon, please don’t be.” She looked tired too, drawn and pale. “Tim and I are the ones apologizing.” Jon shook his head, staring at his lap and withdrawing his hand to worry at his fingers.

“I shouldn’t have--”

“What?” Tim cut him off. “Asked for help?” Jon nodded, earnest, glad they were all on the same page.

“Yes! You’re understandably angry with me. I didn’t respect that.”

“Can you hear how ridiculous you sound?” Tim wasn’t shouting but it was a close thing. “We froze you out! Left you alone! Accused you of lying about how Elias was treating you--Jon. Being upset about a stupid promotion doesn’t warrant how we treated you. You know that, right?”

“I don’t. I don’t know?” Sasha hushed Tim before he could start up again.

“It doesn’t. And when you became ill we blamed you for that too, for not telling us after we gave you no reason to trust that we would help and it wasn’t right.” Gently, she embraced him and he couldn’t stop himself from collapsing into her and while she wasn’t always one for physical displays of affection, she pressed him closer. “We’re going to do better.”

“We’re in this together, boss, like we should have been from the beginning. From this minute on.” Tim clasped him on the shoulder. “Okay?” Jon, exhausted and confused and hopeful, looked up at Martin when he nodded too.

“Okay.”

#TMA #The magnus archives #Jon sims #martin blackwood #tim stoker #sasha james #elias bouchard #hostile work environment #hospital #overwork #stop being mean to jon :<#sick jon

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coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years

Text

Good evening tma fans I’m back with more ace jonmartin content (that is also posted to AO3). Set during the safehouse because it’s good for Conversations. Have at thee:

Jon loves Martin. He has for so long now that it feels like it’s always been the truth, like if you were to go back to the start of the world, there would lie a stone with two names carved side by side, belonging there even millennia before their existence. It feels like a fact etched into his very bones, so deeply grounding that the force of it alone was enough to tear through the veil of fog and supernatural loneliness and bring him out unscathed, and with his prize. Orpheus reversed. A love stronger than Loneliness. A truth imprinted on his heart. Jon loves Martin.

And Martin knows, too. He saw the way Jon felt about him, the way he knew him with such love, the way he remembered him so thoroughly it was able to bring him back to himself after months of nothingness. He knows the curtain of the Lonely doesn’t part for just anyone. And then, of course, Jon has taken his hand and held it to his chest and wept his affections not a day later, when the tide finally broke and all of his despair and trust came tumbling out at once, and Martin’s still fog-rimmed eyes spilled over with tears and they held each other as confession after confession poured from each of them. Jon had told Martin he loved him so many times his throat had hurt, and Martin had held him so tightly his arms had shaken. Jon loves Martin, and Martin loves him in return, just as fiercely. Being loved is slowly starting to come naturally to Martin again.

The point is, though, that Jon loves Martin. And Martin knows. Which means at some point, they are going to have to talk about It.

Jon has avoided talking about It for years. He talked about it with Georgie, of course. She had been the one to help him gather more words to describe it. Asexual, sex repulsed, uninterested, etc.

It hadn’t always mattered, though. Not everyone was willing to care about something they saw as trivial, something he was still desperately trying to convince himself wasn’t trivial. And there were always the rare few who saw it as a challenge. Some days, the hope that he would be fully respected and loved for who he was seemed like a lost cause.

But he knows better now. He knows himself well enough to be certain, even these days, when grasping onto his very humanity feels like trying to drink from a mirage. He is certain about this, though. This has been long, long something he’s known about himself; a truth that he will acknowledge as nothing but the truth. A part of him. It is something to be proud of. Something he deserves to be loved for. And it is also something he very much so needs to communicate with Martin.

It hasn’t really come up yet, not since their frantic packing and desperate drive all the way to Scotland, Jon clinging onto the passenger assist grip as Martin does his best to get them there quickly, and then their exhausted unpacking in the safehouse, and the emotionally draining last few days they’ve had. It’s overwhelming, being in each other’s constant company, in a way that largely feels utterly mundane.

They gather groceries together at the shop, brush hands over plates at the sink, curl up together to ward off the nightmares in bed, do their best to clean every inch of the house they can reach, and try to acclimatize to each other as the days continue. Martin is still breaking himself into connection; sometimes halting too sharply in his words, sometimes forgetting to speak for hours at a time, shifting invisible when he gets distracted enough, and Jon is still hesitant, not quite sure what to do to make it better, not quite sure if a false step will make it worse. He’d go back into the Lonely for Martin a thousand times if it meant saving him, but he doesn’t want Martin to lose himself again. Most times, Martin is as vibrant as his early days at the institute, but on others Jon still catches whiffs of the sterilized smell of the Lonely in Martin’s wake. Those times, his hands always linger on Martin’s as they brush. Every moment has been full of comfort, of the reassurance that they are both still there, of light topics, and of forgiveness when it is needed.

Jon loves Martin. He wants Martin to know. There just hasn’t been the right chance for it yet.

He’s convinced himself to just let it come up naturally whenever Martin is free enough of the fog to let himself sink into open affection, but, as it turns out, he needn’t have agonized about it.

It’s a good day for Martin, today. He’s been talkative, warm, and his eyes are shining with that look that’s so hopelessly earnest and alive it makes Jon’s heart want to beat entirely out of his chest. They’ve taken the day to trade questions and answers over cooking and cleaning and relaxing, and now, as Martin slides tonight’s meal into the oven, he decides the questions aren’t quite over.

“So, Jon,” Martin begins from the kitchen, in a tone that’s so genuinely casual it's almost surprising. “What are your thoughts on sex?”

Jon blinks in utter surprise, torn away from his book with a start as the words register in his head. His traitorous stomach drops out of habit. Oh, Christ. Is this it? Are they doing this now? Is he ready for this? His hands hesitate over the page he’s bookmarked with his thumb, not sure if this is just going to be a simple answer, or if Martin means this as a gateway to a full conversation about the topic. “L-Like, in general?”

“I mean, there was gossip at the Institute,” Martin offers apologetically, ducking his head and wiping his hands on a towel. He looks slightly sheepish from where Jon can see him. “Some talk about you and Basira awhile back, for a bit, and later Melanie mentioned something about you just not, but both of those were, y’know, gossip, and I just realized I’ve never actually asked you personally what your feelings were on the matter, so… yeah. In general.” As he rambles, he makes his way over to the couch where Jon is sitting, bending down to rest his arms on the back of it. His face is open and curious, but not oppressively so. Jon has to fight the familiar urge to set all thought and action aside to simply stare at him.

Jon instead puts his book off to the side and inhales. This is a conversation that deserves his full attention.

“Well,” he fumbles for a place to start. He hasn’t perfected a speech, doesn’t have all the proper sources planned, but he might as well start by giving Martin the honesty he deserves; the kind Jon has been preparing for. “I… suppose generally opposed? I-I mean, not for-“ He bites back the word “normal” as he stutters over his explanation, trying not to feel like he’s pulling his own teeth as he speaks. His own words feel somehow foreign to him, even more so these days, but for Martin, he’s trying. “Not for other people, I mean, but for me? I’m really just not interested. Too much …touching and exposure and- and noises? Not to mention all the expectations it comes with. Honestly, it… sounds kind of dreadful.”

Martin makes a small noise of attentiveness. “Never tried it, then?”

Jon goes sort of cold, all over, a bone deep chill curling deep inside his gut, and he has to manually force himself to unfreeze and choose his words carefully. “I have not. And I can’t quite say I’d have any interest in doing so.” His tone is clipped, defensive, and cold. He tries to keep himself from glaring out of habit.

“Why do you sound so—“ Martin’s tone starts teasing, and then breaks off as he catches a glance of Jon’s terrified expression and his eyes widen. “OH!! Oh, no, I wasn’t- sorry, that came out wrong. I was just curious to sort of… compare experiences, I wasn’t implying any sort of… no.” He waves a hand as if to physically dismiss Jon’s anxiety. “Never having tried it is fine. Good, even! Good on you for knowing your boundaries. I’m happy for that.” He rambles. “That’s wonderful. Sorry.”

Jon flushes slightly in embarrassment that he misread the tone, but his chest loosens a bit. No one has ever told him that before, and it feels… nothing short of radical. Safe. “It’s- it’s alright, Martin.” Jon drums his fingers against the book cover resting against his belly for a moment, his thoughts shifting to wonder what the point to the conversation is if not to… well… he shoos away theories. This is Martin, he can just ask. “What do you mean ‘compare experiences’?” He sits up more, now curious himself. “Martin, do you… what are your thoughts on it? Sex, I mean. In general.” It always comes out sounding much more academic than he intends, and he pursues his lips against his own pronunciation, even though Martin doesn’t seem to notice.

Martin blinks a bit. “Oh! Hm. Well, it’s— I suppose a bit complicated? I dunno.” He rubs a hand over the back of his head, brushing through the regrowing hair at the nape of his neck. “If it makes the other person happy then, yeah I’m all for it, but it’s more of just… an activity to me, I guess? Never really been quite my favorite one either, to be perfectly honest.” The chuckle he gives sounds just shy of self-depreciating, and Jon finds himself reaching a hand up to catch Martin’s for reassurance. Martin takes it, gives a slight squeeze. “That’s not to say that I’ve had a bad experience, necessarily? I just… I’d rather be closer in other ways.” He shrugs, and his eyes drop. “Feels kind of weird, honestly. Knowing I’ve done it. I mean, I always figured I’m not really the kind of person you’d assume to be having it, and I’m fine with that. I dunno.”

The loosening thing in Jon’s chest unfurls completely, melting into affection. “Oh, Martin.” He hesitates, thinking, before looking up and giving Martin a very curious look. “You’re… like me, aren’t you?”

Martin looks up and meets his eyes dead on, as a small, shy smile pulls at his lips, his eyes going warm and soft before he ducks away, somewhat hiding his face. “Yeah, I think so.”

Jon loves Martin.

“What’s…” Jon’s face flushes, but he’s already spoken the first word aloud, and he doubts his curiosity will allow him to back out, so he clears his throat and continues on. “You said you’d rather be closer to people in o-other ways?” He fidgets with the hem of his shirt. “What might those be?”

Martin squishes his face in that adorable way he does when he’s thinking, lips pressing together in a little motion that Jon can’t help but find hopelessly endearing. “I guess… doing things for people? Something to let them know that you really see them,” his eyes dart to Jon for a half a moment as he says that, before continuing on. “or… I dunno. Activities together? Spending time with someone is always nice. And…hugs, honestly.” He laughs at himself, but Jon is listening intently. “I know that sounds kind of silly, I know, but…”

“It’s not silly,” Jon interrupts, pushing himself up into a standing position, a look of softness coming across his face as he latches onto an idea and softens with everything in him. “In that case, Martin, can I…?” He’s standing up from the couch, and walking around to the back, arms opening in a hesitant invitation. Martin’s eyes widen, and then soften.

“Oh, sure. Yeah, of course.”

Jon loves Martin. He wants to show him in all the ways he can, and so Jon wraps his arms around Martin, one hand reaching up to stroke through his hair, fingers catching on his curls, while the other pulls his chest tight with Jon’s, heartbeats resonating in sync. Martin’s hands come to rest on the small of Jon’s back, and, despite his height, he exhales slowly in relaxation.

He fidgets after a second, signaling the polite time for an embrace to end, but Jon just wraps his arms around him tighter, pressing his nose into Martin’s neck, and running his hand through his hair until Martin finally stops waiting for it to end, and lets himself relax into it. His arms loosen around Jon’s waist, but he drops his head against Jon’s shoulder, and Jon does everything he can to make Martin feel wrapped up in the enormity of his own affection. Martin lets out a sigh into his shoulder, and Jon’s heart swells in its lopsided rib cage. He wishes he could replace the missing ribs with Martin, to keep him closer to his heart, or better yet, to do away with the whole thing altogether, and simply trust Martin to take his chest in his hands.

Safe. He wants to keep Martin safe. And he trusts Martin to keep him safe as well. He drags a hand over his back, trying to fit as much protectiveness he can into the gesture. You are so loved, he wants it to say. Nothing can hurt you. There’s no expectations in the embrace, no pressure or next step. It’s just this moment, just heartbeats, just Jon making space for Martin in his arms. It’s perfect.

“This is nice.” Martin murmurs, nothing more than a soft exhale, and Jon loves him more than he knows how to understand.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #tma fic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #asexuality #ace martin blackwood #my writing #hugs are the peak of physical intimacy and nothing can change my mind

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