#Jonathan Sims character study

[not-she-which-burns-in-it]

A Study in Emerald

The brainrot has fully consumed me, I'm writing fanfic for the first time since 2018. Any kudos or interaction on AO3 would be super appreciated.

Summary:

A character study for each of the major Magnus Archives characters, starting with Jon and Martin. Exactly 1,500 words each, it's a look at their perception of self and what's driving them. Written in prep for a larger project, it felt worth it to post them as stand alone pieces.

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood

Additional Tags: Character Study, Canon Compliant, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, Not really a plot here, Internalized Fatphobia, Internalized Acephobia (kinda), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Everyone is doing bad

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61894225/chapters/158260423

Jonathan Sims carries such a strong aura of being overworked that when you spend more than a few minutes in his presence you start thinking about a third cup of coffee to get through the rest of your day. Jon would be handsome if he wasn’t so tired, or if he devoted any effort to his presentation. The dark circles under his eyes had been a common sight as long as he could remember looking in the mirror, but became permanent fixtures when he started working in the Archives. There were even frown lines beginning to form on his high forehead and a deepening of the lines around his large straight nose, stretching toward his sharp angular jaw. It was the perfect nose to look down at someone from behind his glasses, especially when his mouth turned into a scowling frown, which was often. His lips are a bit too thin to be called attractive but they match his high cheekbones and compliment his thick dark brows and long lashes. The bronze undertones from his mixed heritage are the only thing keeping him from being called “pale” or “deprived of sunlight” - something he would snarkily defend if anyone ever called him that. 

“Well, I do work in the Archives, in the climate controlled basement, so excuse me if I’m not working on my tan.”

His skin has become a map of his experiences. The handful of shiny, circular, worm-attack scars that dot his forearms and climb up his shoulders to his neck and peek out from under the scruff on his cheeks have started to fade thanks to Nikola Orsinov’s moisturizing routine, but the jagged line of a stab wound above his wrist, and a brutal burn scar on his hand have refused to be soothed away. The pale moons of worm bites are even easier to see when his dark hair is pulled back from his face. The soft brown waves streaked with silver obscure his young age. When he had started there were only a few pale strands, but the role of Archivist had doubled the gray in the couple years he had been on this journey, despite being in his mid thirties. He often left it hanging around his face, as if the curtain of hair that brushed his shoulders would create another barrier to prevent people from speaking to him when he was bent over an old dusty tome. When he was trying to look presentable he’d pull half of it back, in a look Georgie described as “his slutty little up-do”, and when he was truly agitated and didn’t want anyone to see how greasy it had become he swept all of it up. Tim had once said he was “sporting a man-bun” and the sheer violence in Jon’s gaze prevented Tim from ever remarking on Jon’s hair again. He hadn’t grown it out intentionally. When he was still in the research department it had barely curled around his ears. Now, every few weeks he would look in the mirror after a shower and declare his hair unmanageable and resolve to get it cut. But he never managed to actually get to a barber. 

His outfits suffered from a similar spectrum of hurried to forgetfulness. His slacks fit him well but desperately needed the creases pressed. The button down shirts also cried out for the touch of an iron, but it was harder to notice when he layered them under blazers and jumpers. It was the fashion sense only someone who missed the academic focus of their Oxford days would develop. The colors stayed in neutrals with heaps of green, navy, and maybe maroon. The day he wore a buttercup yellow shirt, no fewer than 3 people stopped to do a double take. It turned out he had spilled an entire cup of tea on his original shirt on the way to work and needed to stop last minute for a new one. 

He was normally seen with a cup of tea in his hand, or coffee if he was feeling desperate, and a pen in his mouth. Martin guessed that Jon had a tendency to chew on the end of his pens when he wanted a cigarette. He had smoked off and on since his college days, and always seemed to pick up the habit again when he was stressed. It was less of a nicotine addiction, than the desire to have a good reason to take a break and get some fresh air every once in a while. The reason he had picked the habit up in the first place in college, was that smoking was a perfect excuse to sit out on someone’s roof, or back garden, away from the loud music and loud people. Jon had been a grumpy old man even when he was 19. Something about the noise and press of bodies made him feel trapped and hot and like electricity was crawling up his spine. Or maybe it was just a very quiet upbringing that made parties feel unnatural to him. 

You could tell from the way he hunched over his work, as if it was a closely guarded secret, darting his eyes around before focusing in on a conversation, and jumped slightly when the doors slammed that he’d had a tough childhood. Jon never spoke of his parents, and it took years of knowing him before he’d slip and mention being raised by his grandmother. His father had died when he was two, but he grew with his image as a constant comparison. Athletic, where Jon was bookish; outgoing, where Jon was shy - the ghost of his father was the invisible standard Jon constantly failed to live up to in his grandmother’s eyes. No, he always heard that he was his mother’s child. He had more memories of his her, but they were hazy from toddlerhood: her soft brown face framed with delicate reading glasses, her long braid that she let Jon weave flowers into from the garden, the smell of chai in the morning, flowing bright colored fabrics, warm dinners packed with flavor that made the kitchen a bustling center of activity. His very British grandmother - his father’s mother - had not kept those colors or flavors in his life after he went to live with her at the age of six. He had Granny to thank for his accent, stiff shoulders, and degree from Oxford. He sometimes wondered what would have happened if he had gone with his mother’s family instead. But Jon would rather die than share these musings willingly, so his details had to be put together like a puzzle from observation. 

Observing Jon was Martin’s favorite pastime. For instance he had observed that Jon’s eyes seemed brown at first, but if you got close to him you could see little flecks of gold and green. And that while the scruff on Jon’s face could get messy, the effect was intentional - because even when Jon cleaned up scuff remained, just with straighter lines and a more pleasing shape. He’d also gotten close enough to feel how soft his hair was, in need of a thorough comb and maybe a deep condition, but silky nonetheless. They’d been trapped in the archives at the time, so there were bigger things to worry about than how soft Jon’s hair was or how he smelled of sandalwood and leather and books - but Martin had noticed nonetheless. 

On the rare occasions that Tim and Martin (or Tim and Sasha before) were able to cajole Jon out to the pub after work, they knew to take him to a quiet place where they could occupy a corner booth and find some topic to start a friendly argument. They had little luck drawing Jon on football or any other sport, and even less on the merits of various popstars. Once, when they still worked in research, Tim had started ordering whiskey instead of beer, and tried to play Smash or Pass with the other bar patrons. Jon had been so uncomfortable that he made an excuse to leave and declined any subsequent invitations for at least six months. 

Actually Martin had never seen Jon show an interest in anyone, in that way. And Martin was looking. But Jon had always found dating difficult. His longest relationship had been with his college best-friend-turned-girlfriend Georgie. He’d had a couple short, failed relationships after that, and a few semi-successful but ultimately fruitless long distance relationships after those. You could almost feel the repercussions of the string of disappointments when you talked to him. It was as if everyone started their acquaintance with him at a negative point balance, and needed to work their way up. He used his inherent mistrust of people as a wall to keep people from looking too closely at him. 

If you didn’t need people, then you couldn’t be let down by them, you wouldn’t be vulnerable to them. And that’s the way he wanted to keep it, thank you.

[themaidenofwords]

Have I mentioned how gut wrenching the slow progression from "Jonathan Sims-- Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute, London" to "Jonathan Sims-- The Archivist" is?

These are Jon's introductions of himself. He had already had people simply calling him "The Archivist" way back in season one, but he never introduced himself that way. He declared his title of Archivist as what he saw it to be-- a job title and nothing more.

And then we reached season three and there was a gap where we had "Jonathan Sims, former Archivist" and the words were still spoken as one would a job title but with a certain sense of grief that was incongruous with the professional veneer.

And finally, the reveal of what the Archives were and what being The Archivist truly meant happened, and Jon stopped pretending-- even to himself-- that it was just a job. No, he was Jonathan Sims-- The Archivist-- and it was spoken with the gravitas and responsibility of a king's title. It was now part of who he was.

And then, season five, and it's no longer "Jonathan Sims--". It is merely "The Archivist". Because Jon believes his humanity to have died along with the world he was tricked into dooming. His person-hood is secondary-- and can perhaps be considered more of a job title now in a similar way to how Jon referred to being The Archivist in season one. In season five, Jon believes his entire being to have been consumed by the Watcher. The Archives and his job as the Archivist can no longer be seen as a job, or even as a part of who he is, because it is ALL he is. There is no part remaining of Jonathan Sims, because he is The Archivist first and foremost. He doesn't believe his own humanity great enough to be mentioned.

He is, of course, wrong. But it wouldn't be a tragedy if he didn't realize that until it was too late.

[strangerhawke]

i love love love love seeing tma/malevolent crossovers but i personally think arthur lester and jonathan sims would Dislike each other. there are so many things they COULD bond over but i genuinely think they'd just find the other petulant. they'd be pleasant enough at first but if they had to solve a problem together it would be mayhem. theyre both stubborn and strong willed and make mistakes like breathing.

arthur: we can't just sit on our fucking thumbs and wait for the opportunity to pop up jon: so we should just stride in with no information whatsoever, should we? i thought you were a private investigator arthur: if our only chance for getting more information is going there, what choice do we have? jon: there has to be something else we can find on it first - arthur: right. well you do that, and I'll go find out for myself. jon: oh for - fine. lets just walk straight into a trap, shall we? should i inform you of any holes in the floor as we go? arthur: how did you fucking know about that jon: .....what? arthur: about. about falling into - never mind jon: ....... jon: you've had 8 falls. are you clumsy or do you have no spatial awareness arthur: i'm pretty sure those are the same thing. jon: stop avoiding the question

[speckaboo]

After catching up to recent episodes, I wanted to put my two cents in with Gwen and Jon's characterization since they both share similar vibes and not enough people talk about their differences.

First of all, Jon would never have done what Gwen did in the latest episode (ep 20). They both have a knack for pissing off Avatars/Externals, but even s1Jon wouldn't have mouthed off like that to one. Jon got beat up by Avatars for asking too many questions and not minding his own business (and for being Gertrude's successor), Gwen was just being blatantly antagonistic to a someone that literally kills people with tattoos because she got annoyed that they wouldn't sign her government form.

Second of all, Gwen isn't Eye-aligned like Jon was. Unlike Jon, she isn't curious. She doesn't ask questions or go looking for answers regarding the Externals. She does exactly what she's told, which is the exact opposite of how Jon operated. She's only interested in doing her job with the end goal of taking Lena's position, for whatever reason that might be.

And lastly, Gwen is selfish. While Gwen and Jon both wanted to be taken seriously in their line of work, Jon had given up that professionalism pretty quick when he realized people were getting hurt because of it. Even when he'd lost his humanity, he'd been terrified of putting anybody through the same terror he'd been through, to the point where he'd constantly put himself in harms way because of it. Jon was a stubborn idiot, but he cared deeply for other people. He never wanted others to get hurt, even when he wanted answers. (That's why he burned Gerry's page, after all.)

Gwen, on the other hand, isn't like that. When Gwen found out from FR3-DI that her boss had literally tried to murder someone that used to work here, her immediate response was to blackmail her to get a raise. She didn't warn her coworkers, she didn't even think of the risk to her own safety - just how it could benefit her. It's the same for when Gwen met with Bonzo and the other Externals. Even though Gwen found out what had happened to the people she'd sent Bonzo after, the fact that dozens of people died because of her involvement, she still didn't leave. She felt bad about it, sure, but it didn't stop her from continuing with it. Because for whatever reason, she wants that promotion so much that she's willing to let other people to die for it.

Gwen is not like Jon, who constantly sacrificed himself for others, nor like Gertrude Robinson, where the ends justified the brutal means. Unless there's some grand reason for it, a promotion isn't worth what she's doing. Gwen isn't heartless, but she is selfish.

She's not a monster just yet, but she is painfully human.

[cult-of-the-eye]

Jonathan Sims bites his nails. It's his biggest embarrassment, heralding such a childish habit - there for anyone to pick up on at a moment's glance to his hands. He'd always been a stubborn child, so his grandmother's insistence of polite and properness felt flat on his ears. His hands were his. His to dig through books and scramble up from the ground. His to ruin. Besides, his 1000 hours had been up, his biggest commitment and skill is now exemplified by raw skin and jagged edges. He certainly couldn't change now. So he stands outside the institute, cigarette smoke mingling with stinging nail beds, waiting for someone to come and try to stop him.

[quinn-fucks-shit-up]

thinking about how the ones who survived that we praise for having common sense were the ones with Zero curiosity

like, Gillespie didn't give a fuck what was in that coffin, Dekker didn't care what was going on with that pig, Hammond was unconcerned about a fire ghost, Lennox didn't want to know what was in the middle of that labyrinth, and Górka just decided she'd rather go to sleep than get answers

the fears spit out people who are more concerned with themselves than finding out what is going on, among whom Jon does not even remotely number

bro is the definition of a character doomed by his own nature, there was no way in which he could have turned his back on the eye because beyond any other aspect of himself there is, beyond even his love of Martin, he unfailingly, unequivocally Needs To Know

so he was always going to choose to be the pupil, in every scenario, in every universe, that is, of course, why the web chose him

[sieveyourtea]

An Observation of Jonathan Sims

Some season 4 Jon from an outsider perseptive

[annabelle--cane]

it gives me a sort of metatextual joy to see annabelle cane obsessed with jonathan sims on several levels

annabelle in the hilltop basement furiously writing character study essays about blorbo from her tapes

[themaidenofwords]

Ya'know, we all seem to be joking about how Jon and Martin are a little *too* into the whole "Ceaseless Watcher turn your gaze upon this guy I don't like" thing from season five, but I don't know if we actually acknowledge why they're like that.

Jon of course is the one to first realize that A.) he has the power to destroy his enemies and B.) He's excited about it. This is the man that has spent YEARS playing the part of "Avatars' punching bag". There have been points in time where he tried to directly fight back against the manipulation and threats to him and his friends (the Not!Sasha table incident) but those attempts to fight back always backfired. Every time Jon has taken initiative or taken an offensive stance it has only ended with one of his friends dead or another scar on his body. He has had years to become intimately acquainted with what it means to be helpless.

So, in season five, when he suddenly has the power to take revenge-- to take the reigns of fate into his own hands for once-- of course he jumps at the chance. But remember that after the first couple attempts at revenge he is the one to admit that he needs to stop. The declared reason was mostly due to the fact that Jon was trying to keep a hold of his humanity, but I think that Jon actually just realized that he still wasn't in control. His grand rebellion and his final moment of power didn't actually mean anything because his powers were only due to-- and likely approved by-- the Watcher. He still wasn't the one in control. He finally had his chance to fight back, but he wasn't allowed his own autonomy while doing it.

As for Martin, I think there's something similar there. Of course, Martin's dark side is generally a little surprising (even though we see glimpses of it in his stand off with Elias) but Martin has been through most of the same experiences as Jon. He has been helpless-- or at least VIEWED as helpless-- and he had the additional burden of having to maintain his cheerfulness throughout. He watched his friends fall apart around him, he watched Jon fall apart in front of his eyes, and there was nothing he could do. His mother hated him because of something he couldn't control, and he had no ability to help the people he cared about. The most Martin was able to do to "protect" his friends was to distance himself and even that didn't work out in the end.

So, yeah, both Jon and Martin's reactions to suddenly having the ability to fight back and take control for once is extremely understandable.

[cloudkissedmusic]

My Magnus Archives fansong, “Watcher’s Crown (Demo)” is out today !!

i started working on this song going on two years ago now, as a character study on the protagonist of The Magnus Archives. i can’t think of another piece of art that has impacted or inspired me the way that show has- it was an oasis for me, in one of the toughest mental health periods of my life. no matter how bad things felt, i could always escape my own fears for a little bit by listening to Jonathan Sims, literally and figuratively, face his own.

Listen to The Magnus Archives (or i’ll Get You), listen to Watcher’s Crown (if you want), i love you, thank you, have a good day <3

[justarchivingthings]

prev tags: #marto’s hyperawareness of how he is perceived prob also made the Lonely even more ‘appealing’ #to be free from that

Martin Blackwood: hyperaware of how others view him and has repeatedly weaponised their image of him to his own advantage.

Jonathan Sims: focuses on his own goals/feelings so hard that sometimes he simply forgets that he is perceived by others at all.

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

7 steps to killing your lover: a comprehensive guide

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PXVC9nZ by galaxtree There is a rib on Jon’s office table, glistening and pink. You pick it up, the surface tacky and moist against your palm. Amongst the panic swirling in your chest, you can’t help but feel the relief of finally holding him. / The way her fingers brush the handle of her gun is impossibly tender— a kind of softness you’ve never seen her show anything else, yourself included. You ignore the pang of jealousy that pierces your ribs. - jon, martin, daisy & basira, and how to kill your lover in 7 simple steps. for the magnus archives zine Words: 2821, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death Categories: Multi Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain, Alice "Daisy" Tonner, avatars are mentioned here and there but not enough to warrant a whole tag Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 5, this is a self indulgent daisira/jmart parallels character study, i must warn you that this is not a fix it, Spoilers for The Magnus Archives Season 4 read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/PXVC9nZ

[cult-of-the-eye]

So I had this idea that when Martin gets mad at someone, he represses it and ends up being even nicer to them. It ended up being slightly longer than I thought it would be lol.

Content warnings - slight mention of martin's mum being ill, mental health issues and the effects of trauma are explored, a lot of self-hatred and general angst but a hopeful ending, hurt/comfort's angsty cousin

Martin K Blackwood has never heralded himself to be the most sane of people. He has never been under any illusion as to the effect of his childhood (and...other...situations) on his psyche. He has been to therapy, albeit once, in a short-lived, hugely embarrassing attempt during secondary school, where he was gently informed that his particular set of problems required more qualified areas of intervention. In short, as many times that people have helpfully informed him of his "fucked up"-ness, he has always been the one who was most aware of it. As a method of self-soothing, he tells himself that all poets are tortured. It's just for him, the poetry came before the torture. These thoughts, musings, poetic substance or whatever else, came to him whilst making tea for his boss, Jonathan Sims, one cloud-soaked afternoon.

It wasn't as if he meant it. Making someone tea after they had borderline reduced them to tears wasn't a conscious decision. His feet just moved, as of their own accord, out of Jon's office, one before the other, his trainers making soft thuds against the carpeted floor. Towards the kitchen. And if he's in the kitchen, he might as well make tea. And if he's making tea, he might as well make some for Jon. He put extra care into this mug - if he poured the water with steady hands then maybe he wouldn't start to cry. It would be silly to cry, he decided. This was a realisation that came as he stood still next the counter, watching the tea steep. It wasn't anyone's fault but his own that he cited the case wrong, he should've known. He should've been better at pretending to have a Masters degree in Parapsychology. Serves him right for lying. How could anyone have blamed Jon for shouting? It must seem like he's being inadequate on purpose. Some cruel joke being played on only him. So of course, he shouted. And of course, Martin cried. He expected heaving sobs, thundering through his whole body, as large and foreboding as the sky outside. Instead, they were sharp, singular and furious. How could he have known that he'd get a phone call from the hospital in the middle of the night saying that things had gotten worse? How could he have known that the citing method had changed? How could he have known that he would be saddled with the most inconsiderate, frustrating, bastard of a-

"Martin?"

Luck, it seemed could be added to the list of things Martin had never heralded himself to have. He hoped to whatever was up there, that he'd be wrong, for once. But he knew better than to hope, so he quickly shoved the heels of his palms into his eyes and took a small breath.

"Um, hi Jon, I...I was just, uh..."

"Making tea?" He offered.

Maybe inconsiderate was a tad hasty of him. He looked terrible. There was no way around it. His perfectly corporate office wear looked like it had been slept in for multiple days, the collars no longer perfectly ironed and creases running down his sweater vest. There was no tie and his hair fell out of the pristine up-do that he was sure took him hours to get right every morning. His face was haggard but more open than he was used to. It unnerved him slightly, to see the sharpness of his features microwaved into an artificial softness. It wasn't something he deserved. He had a knack for looking gift horses in their mouths. After all, he had contributed to those sleepless nights, his actions had probably driven Jon's hands frustratedly through his hair. And yet he was standing in the doorway, shifting from foot to foot.

He cleared his throat. He opened his mouth. He closed it. He opened his mouth again. He closed his mouth again. Martin could almost see the synapses firing in his brain, tiny little fireworks connecting dot after dot, trying to construct the most appropriate sentence for the situation. It took a while, but he got there.

"Martin. I came here to inform you that there was an error in the system. The citation method that you had used was in fact, the correct one. You may continue using that and I will have no issue."

Each word arrived stilted. It was as if he had written it out for some AI helper to read out loud and then repeated it back to said robot. Martin didn't mind, exactly, he was too busy processing what had actually been said to care about how he had said it.

"Was that an apology?"

Jon's face shifted immeasurably. It took a few seconds of awkward silence for him to realise that he was blushing. Immediately, Martin took note of all the signs, knowing that now that he'd seen it, he would never want to miss it again. The tips of his ears turned pink and his mouth twitched, as if he was desperately keeping down a vomit of facial expressions. The solid rock of anger was deep inside Martin and thankfully stopped him from regretting anything he had said. His veins turned to gravel, as he clasped and unclasped his hands by his side.

"I believe so.", came the answer. It did nothing to liquify the solidity in his veins, so out came another sentence that he would lie awake thinking about at night.

"Can I have a proper one?"

"I don't know what you mean, Martin."

The tea was cold, anyway. He had nothing left to lose.

"I want an apology, Jon. I take all of your criticisms on stride, no matter how much I think about how you could've said it in a nicer way or how you don't do this with Tim or Sasha or how I've been working my ass off, this whole time. I'm sorry the archives are way more disorganised than you thought they'd be and I'm sorry you're struggling but you shouldn't take that out on me."

"I'm not struggling, Martin."

He barked out a laugh. "Of course that's the bit you focus on."

Finally, he seemed to have touched a nerve. Adrenaline pumped through him, making him feel nauseous. Every bone in his body told him to stop talking, shut his mouth and grovel. Fix this. The words had been projecting out of his mouth, wriggling like sickly, pale maggots, but part of him wanted to keep talking until he was empty. Until he had no more words to throw. But it was in Jon's nature to ruin his plans. Just like he had ruined his promotion by being an ass. Just like he had ruined his ability to hate him by being just the right amount of kind.

"I'm sorry, Martin. I really am."

Martin had once been told by a therapist that he was using the word "should" to beat himself up. This was the very same therapist that had declared her lack of qualification in the first session, so he dismissed it. He thought of her as the "shoulds" flooded into his brain. One stood out from the rest, unable to be sharpened into the weapon he wanted. It shouldn't have been enough. He should have pushed for more of an apology, he should've asked for more kindness, but the fact of the matter was that it was enough. It was Jon and he was apologising. He knew he was going to take it, no matter how this conversation had gone. He knew it from the very first time he laid a cup of tea on his desk and had been barely acknowledged.

"Thank you, Jon."

Maybe he should return to therapy. Maybe he was fucked up. Maybe he was no longer the only one who knew that. Jon awkwardly shuffled off, leaving rubble where there once was a jumper-clad man. Martin did the only thing he knew how to do. He clicked on the kettle, to make another cup of tea.

[not-she-which-burns-in-it]

A Study in Emerald - Chapter 2

2nd chapter up! A deep look at Martin Blackwood, unsurprisingly his brain is not a great place to be.

AO3 Tags:

Character Study, Canon Compliant, Martin Blackwood Has a Crush on Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood Needs a Hug, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Needs a Hug, Not really a plot here, Internalized Fatphobia, Internalized Acephobia (kinda), Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Everyone is doing bad

Check it out and maybe give it a kudo or leave a comment, even an emoji would be delightful, I need applause to live.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61894225/chapters/158428984

Martin Blackwood spent most of his life trying to take up as little space as possible. He felt most comfortable when he was invisible in the corner of the room, which was quite a feat at 6ft 1in with broad shoulders and a round figure. He was the tallest person working in the archives, much to Tim’s 5ft 11 annoyance, and he practically towered over Jon at 5ft 8in. He had been “too big” since he was a teenager, and even though he was deceptively strong, it wasn’t in the useful sporty way. No, Martin was too soft. His large upper arms made button down shirts uncomfortable unless he went up a size, and his trousers often got holes in the thighs from friction. On top of that, his bulk in the crowded and narrow basement meant he was always pressing past a stack of files desperately hoping the sleeve of his jumper or the curve of his ass wouldn’t topple something to the floor. He had seen exasperated looks when that happened, and it happened a lot. He had even heard a whispered invective from the highly critical Head Archivist a couple times. Those cut especially deep since he wanted nothing more than to be good at this job. Or least good enough to not stand out as a disappointment. It wasn’t just his body that was soft, his mother had spent decades telling him he was too emotional, too prone to fits of crying. That liking poetry and small animals and quiet walks were what made him soft and gay and useless. And those words followed him every time he bumped into something, or ate a sweet, or worried that he might break a delicate chair. 

Martin spent a lot of time trying to forget his appearance. The best days were when he was so caught up in a research project that he could forget he had a body at all, and just exist as a floating consciousness in the archives, helpful and unobtrusive. When he was forced to look in the mirror he hated his round boyish face. Popular media insisted that a smattering of freckles over your cheeks and nose were supposed to be cute, but Martin had a hard time distinguishing them from faded teenage acne scars, so all he could see was mess. He’d tried growing a beard to hide his imperfect skin and soft chin, but it came in patchy and uneven and sprawled more down his neck than up his full cheeks where he wanted it. No, he was stuck with the clean-shaven, cherubic, peaches and cream complexion that made him look even younger than his twenty nine years. Thirty-three according to his embellished resume, of course. 

His sandy-colored hair didn’t help him look any older either. When he was a child, his hair had fallen in angelic gold curls that somehow annoyed his mother, since she had him crop it short. Now as an adult, it fell in soft fluffy waves that he kept above his ears, though when it got long the ends still started to curl. The bright gold had also faded to an unremarkable muddy mix between dirty blonde and mousy brown. He had continued to list it as “blonde” on dating apps until he got enough annoyed or disappointed reactions in person. Apparently his blonde wasn’t blonde enough, and his eyes were too grey to be called blue, and of course “You seem heavier than your pictures, no offense”. God, Martin hated the Grindr scene. 

It’s not that he never dated, the relationships just didn’t last long. He had learned through rejections after rejection that he was good for a hookup and not much else. The encounters left him feeling a little used, and often unsatisfied, but just having the touch of another person staved off the dark places his mind brought him. It also gave him a break from fantasizing about his boss and the really terrible crush he’d been nursing for a couple years now. 

He’d always had a thing for the lanky bookish types, the hot professor aesthetic really did it for him. Even better when that professor was strict and withholding. Something about it made Martin want to beg for approval. It was the difference between a dog's affection that’s handed out freely to anyone in the room, and winning over the judgemental cat in the corner. Martin dreamed of being chosen, being examined and found worthy. Or maybe it was just latent daddy issues stemming from his father’s abandonment at age 8. Either way, Jonathan Sims hit every one of those buttons. It had been just an attraction until the worm attacks. When Jon went out of his way to protect Martin, and when they started spending time together late at night when Jon worked late and Martin was sleeping in document storage, that attraction had blossomed into a full blown infatuation. 

Even though Martin’s favorite tea was Yorkshire Gold, Jon drank Hampstead Earl Grey, so switching over gave Martin an excuse to drop a cup on Jon’s desk whenever he refreshed his own. Martin had even spent a fruitless two weeks researching youtube tutorials on making an authentic chai blend, until he convinced himself Jon would find that presumptuous and accuse him of being racist. 

Martin spent a lot of his time divining ways his coworkers could hate him. Years of practice had taught him that the best way to avoid getting yelled at was to anticipate every possible need and either meet them or get out of the way. He learned that lesson young. The marks of a troubled childhood were easy to spot on him. He was quick with stammering apologies, flinched at slammed doors and raised voices, and spent valuable time double and triple checking his work anxiously. He could see those very qualities getting under people’s skin, but seemed to be unable to stop. 

The only place he could relax was his cramped flat in Stockwell. Most of the furniture was thrifted, the gaming console was two generations old at this point, and the landlord hadn’t fixed the leaky sink or cracked floorboard since Martin moved in - but it was his. The paycheck from the Magnus Institute was the best he’d ever had, but it took a lot to keep his mother in her care home in Devon. He had been living with her out of financial necessity after dropping out of school to become her carer, but about a year before he’d been hired at the institute she’d decided to put herself in a home far enough away that Martin couldn’t visit regularly. Now she barely answered his calls, and sometimes pretended to be asleep or sick to avoid seeing him when he did get down to visit. 

His financial struggles were easy to see on him. His slacks and jumpers were often secondhand, and Martin had learned to sew and patch things to get as much use out of them as possible. It also meant his clothes were often ill-fitting since plus size shopping at thrift stores was damn near impossible. He always brought his lunch, and on days when he was too rushed or his bread had gone moldy, he would make up a reason he couldn’t go out with Tim or Basira. The unhelpful voice in his head usually said You can stand to miss a few meals anyway, but he had learned not to say that part out loud. On a few dire occasions, Martin had accepted a Grindr date he knew would end poorly just because the guy would buy him dinner first. 

Sasha had caught him walking with a slight limp one Monday morning after just such an occasion and had cornered him about it. At first she was convinced Martin had a secret boyfriend and wanted details. Then she’d given a mild talking to about being safe when he’d admitted to making poor hookup choices. He couldn’t remember now if that had been Sasha or NotSasha. It was strange to think the monster would have cared if Martin was ok, but maybe it just wanted him to stay in the Archives more. 

And for the most part he did. Especially now that Jon was away more, and Tim was angry and distant, and Basira and Melanie seemed to be trapped here against their will, Martin felt like he was holding down the fort. He just wanted to avoid a fight, but it felt like the entire team was slowly boiling. He just needed to make enough tea and keep things organized and he could prevent someone from taking their anger out on him. 

If he could just be good enough. If he could just be good enough. If he could just be good. Then they could prevent the apocalypse. Then Jon would be safe. Then Tim would be safe. Then Jon would love him back. Then he could be worthy of someone loving him back. He could be worthy.

[cryptiicism]

if I had to pick four characters to explain my character Jessica to others, these would be them :

• Lilith Clawthorne : a powerful witch whose highly respected, this is who Jessica is without any other inspection made about her character.

into the latter part of Lilith's season 2 arc is to let people in despite how she sees them. this is something Jessica has to later grapple with as well .

• Light Yagami : A young man who strives to be incredibly powerful even if it means using others to get to his goals, often disregarding them as less them. Jessica wrestles with this, rising to the top and often using people to improve upon her own skills while never seeing people as anything pther than "livestock". to her, they serve a purpose and they don't have any feelings against it or otherwise. despite this, both her and light are deeply beloved as well as respected by many.

• Marcille Donato : A young woman driven by her desire for companionship, and understanding within those around her, Marcille delves deep into her studies for answers to her desires, pushed by those who love her; Jessica suffers deeply from loneliness as she doesn't have anyone who is on her level so she strives higher to find someone who'll understand.

• Jonathan Sims : A man in an industry who works hard, latened by the tower of academia to do as he's told and whatever may be asked of him. Less than a dog, but nothing close to being an equal, I sentient tool to be put to go use. He desires that companionship and yet cannot stand those who desire the same, of him- because they aren't useful in the ways he will immediately see. Likewise Jessica strives to be equal to someone, and to be useful as that is what it means to be a achieved student... right? She however despises Edwurd as he brings nothing but delay in senseless pestering her like a dog. Demanding her attention or rather requesting it, but never achieving it because he's her jon, a tool in her project to get the gears going again. What she doesn't realize is that she's the true tool here, and like Jon- he has Martin, who Edwurd is to Jessica.

Ironically most if not all of these characters are autistic coded, and are aro/ace or aroace, with 2/4 wearing glasses.

Jessica is Aroace, and so is Edwurd, he just doesn't realize it. This is Jessica btw !!

Art is by the fabulous artists @sickhoondr & @poofmalyakaet respectively !!

Anyway please talk to me about my ocs!! if you want-

[rosewinterborn]

RoseWinterborn Fic List

This feels like begging for attention and I hate it but I've started dabbling in fanfiction again so it doesn't seem like a *terrible* idea to link some of my work in case anyone is interested in reading it:

The Penumbra Podcast and The Magnus Archives:

Nights in Time Series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1496780)

A pair of oneshots exploring the hotel scene from the season one finale (sad) and a scene ambiguously set in season three where they find a happier ending. 2.6k, explicit.

Back to the Hedgerows (https://archiveofourown.org/works/20658545/chapters/49059989)

Juno and Peter gradually work out their differences, with a bit of meddling from one hacker extraordinaire. Set ambiguously in season three, can be read between the Nights in Time oneshots if you like. 12k, teen.

Penumbra/Magnus Crossover Series (https://archiveofourown.org/series/1520216)

My magnum opus, my baby, my beloved. First Peter Nureyev and Peter Lukas trade places and cause problems, then Jonathan Sims and Juno Steel get swapped to make everything worse (then better). 44k, teen.

Critical Role (Mighty Nein)

Bury Me Facedown (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160519)

A few hundred words of Molly-losing-Yasha-to-Obann angst. <1k, teen.

The Tear in My Heart, I'm Alive (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27427402)

Au where Molly is alive when they get their gemstone tattoos in Nicodranas. 2k, gen.

Cadence (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31369616)

A brief character study of Mollymauk. <1k, gen.

Soulbound (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31370417)

Short Mighty Nein soulmates au. <1k, gen.

Arcane

Firm Warning, Soft Goodbye (https://archiveofourown.org/works/61782691)

Just another s1 Viktor/s2 Jayce fic (my beloved). 1.1k, gen.

What Really Matters, I Keep Breaking (https://archiveofourown.org/works/62220274)

Jayce takes a moment to grieve in the aftermath of the 2x8 fight scene. 1.1k, gen.

If you see my Supernatural oc fics in there no you don't (i mean. unless you do. in which case have fun i guess), and I'm dearly sorry to anyone still waiting for a conclusion to Tender Concessions. Maybe it'll get one someday but uh. I make no promises.