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lostonehero · 6 months

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Since so far it's overwhelming, yes, I hope you enjoy this idea

Tma plus mechs

So, death to the mechanisms happened, and it just sent them back to where they first died or got mechanisms

They reunite and come to terms with the fact that functionally immortal isn't exactly something they can call it anymore.

So Tim suggests following a conspiracy on his earth, well technically two, one what happened to his great great great grandfather Daniel Stoker, and why is there a single year missing that the whole world at that time forgot

Jonny smells a new story, and he's excited

Everyone else agrees because they need a distraction, and a few of them can disguise themselves as human

Jonny dawns a hunter hat to cover his ears and horns and uses his tail as a fourth belt

Tim uses black glasses to hide his eyes.

Marius uses a beanie to cover his pointed ears and uses his tail as a belt

Ivy can't go due to her skin being blue, but she does anyhow because of earth books.

Brain and the Toy Soldier don't stay on the ship it's more like Brian has become the unofficial TS handler

Ashes can pass for human if she keeps her mouth covered and her hands and feet also covered.

Raphaella goes for her experiments, but her wings are a dead giveaway along with her red tinted skin and scales.

Nastya stays on the Aurora, thankful for the peace and time with her partner she can no way pass as human and doesn't want to try.

Ok that's out of the way.

Season one Martin is on his way to the Vittery follow-up and runs into Jonny. He's polite and kind as always apologizing for running into him.

Jonny thinks he's cute, but that's it, but he followed him just because he can, and the spider thing was interesting. He didn't expect to catch this kind man to sneak into the apartment, and he just had to follow behind.

The worm lady was something else, and Jonny expected Martin to freeze like a mortal. He was cute, but that happens.

Martin pushes Jonny back. "Run, she's focused on me, not you, and well, you have a better chance than I do."

Jonny stares at this fool of a man, and he can feel a heat on his cheeks as he takes out his gun and shoots the woman a few times, enough to get her on the floor but she was getting up. He grabs Martin's hand, and they run out together. He makes up a lie about why he has a gun.

Martin is thankful and doesn't really have anything for him, so he offers to take him for a meal.

Jonny, like an idiot asks for his number, not even having an earth phone to use it. Martin gives him it.

Jonny steals a phone, and it works. They plan for a proper dinner on a later date.

Jonny is the first to realize that Martin isn't answering right, and since Martin led him to his apartment the first time, he just went there. The worm lady had his phone and was trying to get into his apartment.

Jonny kills her first good and gets Martin to open the door.

Martin is shocked. "I uh... you saved me twice." He shifts. "I don't have anything to give you..."

"Make our dinner a date." Jonny blurts out, realizing too late he has fallen for a mortal.

Time passes

Jon doesn't believe Martin's story about the worms and thinks his text was a poorly timed joke

Martin didn't get any worms to show him as proof.

Martin goes on more dates with Jonny, and Jonny falls hard and fast, and Tim catches them together

Tim laughs and thinks Jonny is pulling a bad prank... he quickly realizes that.... oh shit Jonny is actually in love. Jonny is in love, and he has been with this mortal for 3 months.

Tim softens, and it infuriates Jonny to no end. Tim spreads the news to everyone.

Jonny thankfully distracts Tim, talking about Martin's coworker, and another Tim with the same last name.

"You work with Tim Stoker?" Tim slams his hands on the table, interrupting another date Martin was on with Jonny.

"Why do you keep finding us?" Jonny huffs. "I told him that to keep him away from us."

Martin smiles softly. "I do work with him. Do you know him?"

"In a sense. We are related, he's a distant relative, and I've been interested in finding out more about my family." Tim smiles, adjusting his glasses as Jonny kicks his shin.

"Oh really? That's cool. Uh, we work together at the Magnus Institute, you can find him at normal work hours." Martin hums. "Although I don't know about his other family, he doesn't talk about them much, but families are complicated, and I would rather not pull that information from him."

"I know that." Jonny sighs, sipping his tea. "Families are bs nonsense."

"Just because you had a shifty home life doesn't mean everyone else did." Tim rolls his eyes under his glasses.

"I mean, I had a bad childhood, too, had to grow up fast taking care of my mom. My dad wasn't in the picture. Mom was always sick, and stuff had to give up school to work to care for her." Martin bites his tongue. "It's not a big deal, though you can forget I said anything."

Jonny reached out and held Martin's hand with a soft smile. "It's alright. I'm happy to learn more about you."

Tim has a look of shock on his features as he quickly runs away from the private scene. He quickly texts the group chat. "Jonny is fucked. He actually comforted Martin and cared about his hurt feelings."

The chat goes fucking nuts.

More time passes

Martin meets a few other mechanisms, and he somehow charms all of them. He beats them at cards, shows them he can sing, and the others see how head over heels Jonny is. He can also go against Tim for his drinking. He was also an amazing liar that he fooled Ashes and Brian.

Just to be certain, he won over the mechs, and Raphella and Marius actually tried to figure out a way to keep the man around with them.

Things at the archive are normal

Jon hums, looking through the reports and sighs getting up he heads out in the bullpen.

"Good Jon, wanna go for drinks tonight?" Tim hums.

"I have work to do Tim." Jon rolls his eyes.

"Oh, come on." Tim huffs. "Boss man, you have to unwind. Ain't that right, Marto?"

Martin looks up and blinks. "I uh right.... I can't actually go tonight."

Sasha raised a brow. "You never not go, Martin."

"I uh I'm meeting my boyfriend's sister tonight." Martin blushes. "She's actually coming out to meet me, and we'll I can't cancel that."

Jon raised his brow as a pang of something he would later figure out that jealousy in his chest affects him. "You have a boyfriend?"

"Jon, that's old news." Tim sighs. "You would know Martin's been seeing a Jonny for the past year if you bothered to chat with us and not hold yourself up in your office. You've been a real ass and a stick in the mud since the promotion."

"Tim's right, you don't have to be a hard ass Jon. This place won't burn down if you have fun for once." Sasha sighs. "Also, Martin, that's great. I hope you have fun and you'll make a great first impression."

"Thanks, Sasha." Martin smiles, collecting his bag and walking past a stunned Jon. "Next week Tim, I'll be free."

"Bring Jonny!" Tim chuckles as Martin shouts back a I'll try.

Martin meeting Nastya wasn't what he expected. She was taller and an odd shade blueish silver, and Jonny did warn him about the skin condition, and so he didn't mention it. She had a disapproving gaze on her face and annoyance in her eyes.

"Um, uh, I'm Martin." Martin gives a nervous smile. "I uh... Jonny didn't tell me what you liked, but I do a bit of knitting, so I made you a scarf." It's a light blue scarf with a coud pattern. it's beautiful and doesn't look handmade. "I know it's not perfect, but uh, I wanted to make a good first impression."

Nastya face softens slightly as she takes the softest scarf she has ever felt in her hands. Her species was built for the cold and didn't need something like this, but the craftsmanship and texture were something else. She puts it on immediately.

Jonny actually looked surprised.

Nastya clears her throat. "Jonny tells me you work in an archive?"

"I'm just an archival assistant, nothing special. You're a mechanic, right? That is much more interesting than dealing with horror stories and dusty old statements all day." Martin smiles and swallows. "I mean, if that's your thing, I don't blame you it can be interesting."

Nastya hums her interest was piqued, and as she discussed more with Martin, she understood everyone's infatuation with him. Not to mention the way Jonny looked at him and how nervous he was that he actually attempted to prevent her from meeting him.

......

Martin convinces Jonny to join drinks with Tim and Sasha and the other Jon.

GP Tim joins as well, finally able to meet this Tim.

"Whoa, so you're the infamous Jonny." Tim smirks. "I expected you to be taller."

GP Tim snickers.

Jonny huffs. "I am perfectly fine with my height."

Jon was staring from the booth scowling.

Sasha hums. "Who are you?"

GP Tim smiles. "Another Tim."

"Fuck yeah another Tim!" Tim gives him a Hi five.

Martin chuckles and grabs Jonny's hand. "Come on, I'll introduce you to Sasha and Jon."

Jonny nods and has a light blush from the contact.

Jonny and Jon immediately hate each other, and Jonny makes it a point to practically sit in Martin's lap the entire night.

Sasha realizes that Jon might actually have feelings for Martin and decides to be a little chaotic agent nudging both men to drink more.

Tim and GP Tim break off from the group for some darker topics

That's what I've got for now

#tma #the magnus archives #the mechanisms #the mechs

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scarystickers · 3 months

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THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES IMPRESSIONS: EP 95 - 99

EP 95: Absent Without Leave

Not that I’m complaining but why is Martin recording them when Jon is back? I like the war perspective, historical episodes are always interesting. Good on Basira for looking on the bright side of things.

EP 96: Return To Sender

Backstory on weird mover guys!! Circus guy getting mentioned again is a bit concerning. Wait I’m confused, why this episode and then Sarah Baldwin? How does that correlate? OH IT’S THE TAXIDERMY PLACE. I miss Sasha. Gertrude killed Daniel and took the skin??? DAISY JUST SHOT HER?????? I love Daisy’s voice actor omg.

EP 97: We All Ignore The Pit

So wait is Jon at the archives or still at Georgies? Or somewhere else entirely? Since Martin said he was only coming in to ask for a book or something. Wait nevermind he’s still at Georgies. Wasn’t he moving out? Wait. That voice sounds so familiar. OH MY GOD, IT’S THAT ONE AUDIO. “How can I sound anything silly, I’m plastic!” OH MY GODDDDDD IT’S THAT AUDIO!!! I WAS TRYING TO FIND WHERE IT WAS FROM SO I COULD WATCH IT OMG. Guess episode 100 or season finale is going to be the dance.

EP 98: Lights Out

YAY MORE MARTIN! Tim is so real because how is everyone else so chill about the archives. Oh Jon offered the job, okay yeah the hatred makes more sense. Rayner was that guy who visted the prisoner and ran that cult where Basira and Daisy tried for arrest him, right? How has this guy stayed alive for so long??? So reading these statements sucks the energy out of people not claimed by the eye? Since instead of harnessing the supernatural energy and feeding the eye, the eye consumes them? Melanie what are you planning because you paused for far too long before saying yes?? Guys I’m confused again I don’t understand anything :’)

EP 99: Dust To Dust

I don’t have anything to really say about this episode. MICHAEL???????? MICHAEL WAS GERTRUDES MARTIN???????????? “10 years yet before I can afford a conscience” Why 10 years??? What does that mean Gertrude??? Jon screaming “what the hell are you” is so real right now. So wait can you only have one avatar per weird god thingy? Because if so then what’s Elias’s deal???? Georgie is actually such a good friend I love them so much. Aaaand Jon just got kidnapped by the weird mover dudes. That’s great.

#tma impressions #the magnus archives #tma #tma podcast #jonathan sims

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emeraldotter · 1 year

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It's really interesting seeing your opinions on TMA on top of the art and I'd actually love if you shared more! I'm like, the exact opposite about S5, no longer needing grounding made the individual episode stories hit less for me and I loved the metanarrative if only for how much more it moved compared to earlier ones. Getting more perspectives on it, having to think on it more, would definitely make it easier on my next relisten.

I'll be placing most of this under a cut, since I have a lot of opinions on S5 and I will be sharing major spoilers for the entire series. TLDR; I like the dreamlike quality of the stories, I like the more controversial subject matters, and I have a personal preference for the prose style(s) in S5. On the flip side, I don't like some of the choices in the overarching plot. Yes, I'm unfortunately That Fan.

I'll start by saying: I like season 5, overall. I think the ending is very impactful and some of the emotional beats really moved me. As someone who started TMA for the short stories (and went in totally blind), I approach each episode with that mindset, at least in part. Someone who prefers the metanarrative will probably have very different opinions.

The stories in S5 felt like stories that the writer had been saving to tell. Not all of them are 10/10s, but they felt more personally affective because their horror elements were more extreme while also referring more explicitly to lived experiences. I didn't need plot connections to them because I felt personal connections to a lot of them. It would take me longer to list the stories I like than the stories I don't. Part of that is purely personal preference, of course; I enjoy surreal visuals and belletristic writing.

Admittedly, I found some stories got a bit too on-the-nose, but I appreciated that the writer dared to depict more controversial topics. The stories felt sincere. I love horror because it’s a great vehicle for exploring painful (and often "inappropriate") subjects. I always felt like TMA shied away from some of the darker themes over the course of the series, so I enjoyed seeing the writer tackle issues that were only really alluded to in the earlier stories. 171 The Gardener, for instance, is way more effective than 090 Bodybuilder, which did not go far enough to be genuinely scary or emotionally impactful (to me.) The same could be said for many of the stories in S5, in my opinion.

I love the dreamlike quality of a lot of them, as well. The prose doesn't need to be tied down by a witness narrative structure anymore, which allows the stories to possess more creative framing. They're surreal and sometimes unnerving, as a result. The way that Jon and Martin drift through the ruined world contributes to that, in my opinion. It feels very Virgil-leading-Dante to me. We have these nebulous, strange environments, then we are plunged into stories that range from absurd settings (166 The Worms) to frighteningly mundane (188 Centre of Attention), which, no matter how weird they may get, hinge on very real human fears and tragedies. The first part of the season feels like a long nightmare to me, for that reason.

Then S5 keeps going and the metanarrative gains prominence and… Well, I just don't like the direction the plot takes. Most of my issues are with the themes and character direction, but I also didn’t like the pacing closer to the finale. I spent the whole Georgie/Melanie cult arc waiting around for the show to end. It didn’t add anything for me.

I acknowledge that my favorite characters in TMA are Elias and Tim, so that definitely affects my perception of S5. (And I was a Web Martin truther so... Yeah.) I also felt very strongly about some of the morally ambiguous questions that built up over the course of TMA. Characters like The Distortion and Elias offer interesting alternatives to what I believe are common moral opinions on violence, self-preservation, autonomy, and identity. These are all important topics to me, personally, and I enjoyed seeing what all of these issues mean for someone like Jon, who has again and again made his choices, but has made them under terrible circumstances without full knowledge of the consequences. Coming from S4's amazing finale, which made Elias's character even more ambiguous, I was curious what other points the story would raise about these themes.

And then S5 happens. The season where The Web comes in with the steel chair, most OP player on the server, and the story starts to feel a bit ridiculous. (And I like The Web!) It left me feeling like...okay. None of this mattered, then. I was very dissatisfied by the moral issues the story emphasized as well as the moral issues it de-emphasized. And the ending was just the cherry on the top of the never-ending Jon suffering cake. No one is sympathetic to him by the end, not even Martin or Georgie, and the narrative feels uncritical of this. It's genuinely hard for me not to feel like the story hates Jon.

(I'm a bit bitter. But I'm also an Elias apologist. My opinions are, as a result, insane.)

That all being said, I actually like the ending. I think all the actors brought their A games to the conclusion. I hate how Jon's decision is depicted, but I like how painful Martin's betrayal is. I like Jon's speech about the history and nature of fear. I like Martin and Jon's final moments. I felt like the actors had fantastic romantic chemistry there. (Not sure what that says about the story or me.) I enjoyed the ambiguity of their fate at the end because, to me, that serves as part of the tragedy. Jon didn't want to become "another mystery" and that's exactly what happened. (Well, I mean. He's dead. Right? He's so dead.)

I understand why people like the S5 narrative. I personally found it somewhat dissatisfying, because I think it could have been something else. But it's not my story and that is okay.

(This response originally had an additional 3,000-word-long whiny fanboy screed about most of my problems with S5, including separate Martin and Elias rants, but I possessed the moral fiber to cut it. You're welcome.)

I'm very normal about fiction.

#i'm an elias fan so i'm a certified freak but: my thoughts #do NOT click read more. it's 900 words. not a joke.#i cut out 4 paragraphs about martin and 3 about elias...#oh no my real personality is coming out in this post uh oh #more blather with less art #its archivin time #anonymous #i have a MLIS in archives management btw. fun fact about me...#drawing references my favorite episode (188) <3

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meilas · 1 year

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Socks' Ultimate Phantoms list, part two

PART ONE

Phantoms, continued:

David Thaxton - Had this moment in Final Lair where it looked like he’d had a heart attack, and then Christine put her hands over his on his heart and just—🥺 David Arnsperger - Had a wild self-caress right before MOTN where he rocked backward. That's it, that's all I remember. John Cudia - I remember actively not liking his Phantom the first time I saw him, but I changed my mind at his Final Lair because it was so good. Jonathan Roxmouth - Has a slightly nasally tone and a slightly deeper voice than a lot of Phantoms. He did not have good pants. Actually the worst pants I’ve ever seen. Looks like a cinnamon roll, is not afraid to burn you if you’ve wronged him. I also don’t like how his wig looks like thinning hair at the very front. Tim Martin Gleason - Don't ask me why, I just like him okay. James Romick - Really like his voice. Does an excellent sad. Derrick Davis - Fantastic voice. Brought a touch of humanity to that awful restaged show and made it worth watching. Wish we could have seen him in Real POTO. Great ass. Brent Barrett - I remember liking him. Thomas James O’Leary - Good acting, good voice. Jon Robyns - Makes excellent noises during the Final Lair. Good voice. James Gant - Works best with Eva Shanu-Wilson. Okay acting, but nothing else really going on. Occasional good moments. Thomas Borchert - Unfairly pretty, beautiful voice, excellent choices during Final Lair, MOTN was mesmerizing. Bit of a slut. Top ten for sure.

Christines: Lisa Vroman - An "older" Christine. Great chemistry with Franc D'Ambrosio. Initiated a gentle hand-holding during the ring return with him which was an excellent choice that I don’t often see. Made some other excellent choices throughout the show in reacting to what was happening around her. Looks like she could kill you, is a cinnamon roll except when she’s going to kill you. Elizabeth Southard - Another "older" Christine. Love her. The best chemistry with Gary Mauer, her irl husband. Also had great chemistry with Jim Weitzer, who was her Raoul. Very, very good actor. Looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll but only for her husband, otherwise she can and will kill. Luzia Nistler - Love her voice. Austrian. (Like German, but elegant.) Emilie Kouatchou - I wanted to like her. But she has a ton of vibrato and she sounds like a child. I also don't care for her acting. She looked like she was only doing what she was told, rather than reacting to things happening around her. Meghan Picerno - I don't remember anything about her. I saw her live right after the reopening. Celinde Schoenmaker - I've only heard audio of her but I remember liking her. Kanisha Feliciano - Good Wishing. Looks fabulous in the blue dress. I love her wigs more than any other Christine. Hers doesn’t look like a frizzy mess. Lucy St Louis - She played a very sympathetic Christine, and has such a beautiful voice. Lily Kerhoas - fierce. Loved the anger she had in Final Lair. Holly Anne-Hull - too much vibrato Paige Blankson - too much vibrato

Raouls: Christopher Carl - Didn't get to see much of him owing to the fact that the boots he's in are Phantom-centered highlights. The little I have seen of him has been excellent though. I've heard an audio boot of him as the Phantom and it was excellent. Has a more "American" pronunciation than most Phantoms. ("ay" vs "ah") Ciaran Sheehan - I like him better as Raoul than as the Phantom. He was ready to throw hands. Has a very stilted way of singing that reminds me of the few clips of Colm Wilkinson, but sounds better than Colm. Willing to troll his associates irl. Bronson Norris Murphy - A. Dorable. The best. Looks like a cinnamon roll, is a cinnamon roll. Could probably do a murder if pushed far enough. Have heard audio and now seen a boot and he’s a protective Raoul. Hands down my favourite Raoul. John Riddle - Saw him live right after the reopening. I don't remember anything specific about him. Paul Schaefer - Nice chest. Matt Blaker - meh

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karuvapatta · 1 year

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I've had a long day so this part is shorter. But there's a cliffhanger!! :D

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

***

He didn’t take any cigarettes. Why didn’t he take cigarettes? Ostensibly, it’s because he’s been trying to quit, and because it’s an awful habit, and because smoking has been rightfully banned in most public spaces – which are all valid, yes, but, counterpoint: Jon really needs a cigarette right now.

No such luck. He can see two people smoking, but given who the gala is for and Jon’s own rotten luck, they are probably in service of a Fear Entity that would love to swallow Jon whole. So he hides in the shadows instead, his back pressed against the walls of the Institute, and takes some comfort in the fact that the Archives are nearby. Just a short walk down the main hall, a staircase, and a corridor, with the familiar door at the end. And there’s the cot in the old storage room, a kettle, five different types of tea, fresh milk in the fridge, biscuits, a few apples, bread and ham and cheese… it is a little sad that the small kitchen in the break room is stocked better than the one in Jon’s apartment, but this is his life now.

The only reason he isn’t down there right now is that it’s the first place Elias would look for him. If he even needed to look.

He could hide in the tunnels. He would, if he had a torch, some supplies, and a comfier pair of shoes. Or, really, a reason to go for such extreme measures.

…besides, if Elias tried to look for him and couldn’t see him anywhere, wouldn’t he figure out that Jon is somewhere that’s hidden from the Eye, and since the tunnels are nearby and relatively safe, that’s where he must have gone?

It doesn’t matter. None of it matters, because Jon hasn’t done anything to warrant Elias hunting him down. He just—turned around and fled the room. Just like that. Shame it wasn’t at the stroke of midnight, and Jon had no glass slippers to leave behind. Alas, it’s only 9:34 and Jon’s shoes are the most generic brand available, and they pinch a little anyway.

So it’s not a perfect metaphor. Jon was never great at those. The fact remains that it’s a chilly evening, he is shivering slightly, sitting on the steps of the Institute, and aching for a smoke. He is also alone. Not in any supernatural way, but if he stays here any longer, he isn’t sure the fog won’t come creeping back for him.

He fishes the phone out of his pocket, and considers his options for a few minutes, before he cracks and calls Martin.

“Jon?”

“Erm. Hi,” Jon says. His mind is blank; he should have thought of something to say. “Am I disturbing you?”

“No, not at all. Are you okay? Do you need help?”

Martin. The concern in his voice is so apparent, and it sets around Jon’s shoulders like a warm blanket. It’s wonderful; Jon wonders if he will ever come to deserve it.

“Everything’s fine,” Jon says. He feels slightly guilty for making Martin worry in the first place, so he hurries to add: “The gala was rather uneventful. I think I’m going to head home.”

“Oh!” There are some noises on Martin’s end of the line; he can recognize familiar voices. “We are actually at a pub right now? With Tim and Sasha. Would you like to join us?”

He says it all in a rush. He’s expecting Jon to decline; Jon has never accepted their invitation in the past. It might have been a sense of propriety, some rules about fraternizing with one’s subordinates. But he knows that’s not the whole truth.

“I’d like that,” Jon says. “If, erm, Tim and Sasha don’t mind?”

There’s laughter on the other end; are they laughing at him? They must be. Good lord, why is he always so awkward…

“They don’t,” Martin says. “Come on, I’ll text you the address.”

***

It’s a quaint little place, not far from the Institute. A coincidence? Or is it part of the binding, that they cannot stray too far from it even on a Friday night? Either way, all three of them look reasonably relaxed, sharing a cramped booth and finishing off a round of drinks.

“Looking good, boss,” Sasha grins at him. Jon would assume she’s being sarcastic but there’s no malice to her tone; he still fiddles with the sleeve of his suit jacket, aware that he is horribly overdressed for such an informal setting.

“I should have changed,” he says. “But it was already pretty late…”

“No! I mean, uh,” Martin clears his throat nervously. “You do look really nice.”

“Smooth, man,” Tim mutters.

He smiles at Jon, but there’s something uncomfortably guarded in his expression. Jon aches for a time when things were simpler between the two of them.

“So! Tell as bout the gala,” Sasha says, sipping something bright and colourful through a straw. Jon perches down on a seat opposite her, next to Martin, who is shuffling around awkwardly to make more space, and whose face is now almost entirely red.

“Like I said,” Jon says. “Uneventful.”

“Really?” Tim asks. “No black candles, no ritual sacrifice?”

“You make it sound like we’re in a cult.”

“We are in a cult.”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” Martin asks.

“No. I suppose not.”

An awkward silence descends upon the table. Jon fidgets with his hands, and the others drink, each scanning around for a safe topic of conversation.

They don’t find it right away. But it unspools gradually, through books and music and movies. Jon buys a round of drinks for everyone – he is their boss, after all, it seems customary – and Tim smiles a little more favourably at him after that.

It is nice, in a very mundane way. But Jon appreciates the mundanity of it all the more for how rare it’s been. They drink, and chat, and everything’s going perfectly well until Tim pulls out his phone to check his messages, and goes incredibly, unnaturally still.

“Tim?” Sasha asks. “You okay?”

Tim looks up. Stares at Jon. Then he looks down again.

“More or less, yeah,” he says. “So, Jon. About that gala…”

#jonelias #dun dun DUH #the magnus archives #this fic doesn't have a plot #just a series of awkward situations to put jon into #jonathan sims

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taceolsaol · 2 years

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Some Magnus Archives post season 1, pre season 2 thoughts.

1. Love the whole main squad, although somethings wrong with Sasha and I’m finding it hard to believe they caught every worm in time. If Prentiss is actually dead (doubtful), I’m definitely not convinced the worms are fully handled

2. Elias is too willing to overlook the actions of donors, a little concerning.

3. So Gertrude was shot and Jonathan suspects someone in the institute. We don’t know a whole lot of people very well at this point. Assuming Jonathan isn’t lying, its not him. Martin found the body that someone seemed to be hiding/storing so probably not him. Tim and Sasha have seemed pretty normal up until now. There are other people working there but we don’t know much about them. That really leaves Elias as the most suspicious one, but that also feels maybe too obvious.

4. There are a lot of connected interests already that are a threat. I had to make a digital version of one of those evidence board things to keep track. Leitner, Keay, the closed eye cult, the shipping company, they alluded to the Angler Fish still being an issue, all the bugs, the Lukas family. I’m sure I didn’t list a bunch, but the Institute has some people to keep an eye on.

5. I loved Jonathan and Martin’s little heart-to-heart when they thought they were gonna die. Cute. Also Martin saying he can’t leaving meaning he’s too curious and invested and Jon immediately being like, that’s ghost behavior. Seriously this man has been trying to find holes in every statement, but Martin says he can’t leave (when he has clearly left the premises) and Jonathan assumes he died there. I will never be able to take him seriously again.

6. Jonathan needs to chill. Martin and Sasha both put themselves in danger because they knew he wouldn’t trust them otherwise. He obviously cares; he just needs to show it more or he’s gonna lose them.

7. I love Martin. That is a adorable, awkward man and he is great! Jon better stop being such an ass to him, I think Martin proved himself with this whole thing.

8. This fandom is everywhere and avoiding spoilers is soo hard 😭 but the podcast has been so fun so far!

#i need to rant about it somewhere #i cant belive it too me this long to listen #the magnus archives #the magnus archives spoilers #tma spoilers #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #elias bouchard

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tweetsongs · 5 years

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lowkey thinking about the theory that martin is actually Good At Archiving and jon is just bad at his job and like. remember when georgie told jon his assistants were hired so that they wouldn't see how bad he was at archiving? i can see that w tim/sasha, who were both researchers w little archival experience, but martin? martin's been working there for YEARS, so he'd presumably know when jon's been fucking up.

so imagine him in the beginning trying his best to keep his head down and do his job normally, so that jon won't suspect anything. but the thing is, jon has an Idea of how archiving should work that's just. wrong. and martin thinks about correcting him, but jon seems to already dislike him for some reason??? and martin doesn't want to piss him off more and get more on his radar. so he doesn't say anything. the issue then is, of course, that not saying anything means that they're still doing things /wrong/, and now whenever he tries to do his actual job, he gets scolded, because he's using actual archiving methods instead of whatever these guys are doing, and he spends like the entirety of s1+2 cleaning up after these morons and trying not to shake them and ask if any of them have so much as taken a /workshop/ on archival best practices.

#martin blackwood #tma #jonathan sims #sasha #tim stoker #i just love the idea of him lowkey dying at how badly the others are doing their jobs #like they're great at RESEARCH #sasha's a whiz with tech and tim has an amazing eye for detail #and jon is insanely thorough ofc #but martin has no clue how people so competent landed so far from their skill sets #and at this point he's too scared to ask #just. i love the idea of martin being terrified of attention bc of his CV #and doing everything to avoid seeming out of the ordinary #also elias keeping him bc he has the vague idea that /SOMEBODY/ actually qualified should stick around

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bluejayblueskies · 3 years

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For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it!#my writing #my fic

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azurajay · 2 years

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ooohhh i wanna sit and pick apart jonathan and tim's arguement from the mag65 supplemental sooo bad---

the toneeee shift from sarcastic anger into jon's softer scheming voice and tim's stammering confusion, and finally their combined lack of knowledge and realisation that they're stuck in this together whether they like it or not shines through as they talk it through a little towards the end. Oh mygod.

AND ULTIMATELY i think it boils down to their respective fear and isolation following the prentiss attack -- tim because he feels like everyone turned their focus on "crazy, paranoid, stalker" jon, and jon because Of said paranoia driving him to push the others away. they fell Together during the attack, so in another world that shared trauma and damage should have brought them closer together, but alas, jon's distress at the new info being brought up about gertrude, paired also with the painful LACK of info, rly sent him on a spiral .-.

ALSOOO WE GOT THE FIRST SWEAR WORDD EVERYONE CHEER !!! perfect use, i love when curse words are used so sparingly if at all only to culminate into such a Moment in media.

anyway i love this arguement and this scene a Lot; tim finally releasing his clearly pent up anger, jon's defensiveness through his complete lack of trust, the trailbacks to elias'... incompetence.. leading into the explicit reveal that You Cannot Leave The Archives that's been lightly hinted at so far (the slight static here too was great), culminating into tim's helplessness and jon Continuing to violently distrust everyone around him and keep his emotional wall up and strong as ever -- it's Brilliant, im obsessed

i rly hope this leads into jon and tim learning to trust each other and working together, because they're IN this together and they Neeeeeed to.

bring martin in too, and while you're at it find the original sasha and Bring Her Home. pls.

#bluejay sings #the magnus archives #mag 65 #it's also very funny to me that Everyone is very into this episode specificallyjdkfg #it was actually one of the more scary ones to me!! very fuckin creepy #i think thats bc of the ..familiarity?? of it?? like it's Technology etc and we've all definitely come across weird shit like this in one #way or another #obviously not to that Degree - but thats always the fear isnt it?#very fun episode #loved tessa too ngl!!!!#jay tma #<- im gonna use this as a catchall for my tma reactions from now on!!#and #tma spoilers

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wtpthedemon · 2 years

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Lonely Tim in the archives time

Okay so this is part two of the Timothy Lukas au rant XD An au where Tim gets adopted by Peter lukas when he's around 8. He and Danny were adopted by different people.

Here's the context on how Tim grew up you don't need it for this post as this post is focused on the institute and the archives but it gives some context involving danny ^^

Anyway here's me explaining more of this au XD

Okay so after the incident where Tim saves Danny from the circus, Danny is rightfully scared and terrified. So Tim does his best to comfort his brother but being a lonely avatar that just sacrificed some of the circus' dancers does not make it easy. Danny begins to worry about what's going on since his brother is just a normal person raised in a rich environment right?

The call he gets from a person Tim called grimaldi over the phone didn't help calm his nerves.

So Danny begins to look for more on his brother and begins to worry he got replaced by something supernatural or became a monster in the time they hadn't had contact.

He finds some stuff and urban legends which causes him to become suspicious that Tim has been lying to him. Especially when he learns about the rumours and stories surrounding the Lukas family and specifically the tundra which Tim mentioned was his father's ship. So he ends up joining the magnus institute as a researcher to figure out what's going on despite Tim trying to discourage it.

That's when he find out that Tim is Elias stepson, more reason not to trust Tim added to the pile.

Tim visits and helps the institute out often enough that he's considered an honorary employee of the institute even before Danny joined it. He often brings new artifacts, comes to bring information or a statement giver but he also just visits the institute to see elias.

He's known as Lukas Jr by most people and is seen as a bit weird due to his tendency to talk a lot. When it comes out that Danny and Tim are brothers Danny often apologises for Tim's behaviours.

Still Danny does his best to act normal since he doesn't want Tim to get suspicious of him.

Then Danny gets assigned to be an archival assistant for Jon by elias. Tim is absolutely furious at that when he finds out, immediately going to elias the next day and punsbing him in the face. (@4bsent-damascus made a great one shot about this btw ^^)

After that Tim introduces himself to the archive crew, accidentally talking too much (which danny apologises for, Martin and sasha both don't mind). Jon is annoyed at the interruption so Tim offers to take everyone to lunch in a restaurant he likes. Danny tries to deny since he knows how this ends.

At the restaurant Martin, sasha and Jon realize how expensive this place is and immediately worry that Tim could easily get fired even though Tim just meant it as a friendly gesture and not a powerplay. (Later on they assume he could easily pay to get them fired)

Behind the scenes Tim works to keep Danny and his new friends safe since he cares or him. Martin isn't stuck by Jane as long as in canon although Tim does let her go since elias asked him to do so and he owed elias a favour. Makes sure the table with the not them is extra secure so sasha doesn't get replaced when the worms attack.

Tim still keeps everything about the fears a secret though until Jon compels him since he knows how dangerous it is and doesn't want to hurt the few people he feels like he has genuine connections with besides his dad.

So that's until where I thought about so far

I do have a couple of extra notes though ^^

When Gertrude was the archivist he got along with Michael and Eric sometimes babysat Tim

Gerry and Tim know eachother, Gerry doesn't trust Tim but they don't hate eachother. They could even be called friends.

Elias only finds out about Tim when Peter comes one day with Tim saying he couldn't find a babysitter for him.

That's the au so far ^^ hopefully you liked it

#tma au #tma #the magnus archives #the magnus archives au #tma bugass #lonely tim #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #timothy stoker #peter lukas #danny stoker #elias bouchard #peter you're still a dad #timothy lukas au

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tired-beholding-bitch · 3 years

Text

with a love so sweet (in your heart, in your heart)

well

what was I to do, not write a fluffy Valentine's Day fic?

yeahh not a chance. how I love writing obnoxiously in love people. and i especially love writing obnoxiously in love idiots

if you couldn’t tell, yes, I have been thinking nonstop about the Soup Sickfic universe since two days ago and I could not live without this -- it just makes me so happy to write them being happy and also dumb and also having big fat crushes on each other ✨

hope this will make you just as happy reading it as it did for me while i was writing it :)

happy valentine's day! 💕❤

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«Does- does the ice cream taste haunted, to you?»

Martin, for the second time this month, isn't completely certain about how he found himself in his current predicament, exactly.

The predicament being, at the moment, the fact he's sitting down on a park bench, eating ice cream with his boss who maybe-kind-of doesn't hate him, actually. On Valentine's Day. And freezing his butt off in the process, because parks are not places to be in February. And also panicking, a little bit, because he might be almost, somewhat, a bit in love with said boss.

Also, that isn't completely accurate, now that he thinks about it.

And he will think about it, because it's still a better option than staring at Jon as he oh so carefully eats his ice cream.

(It's one scoop of rum and raisin, an old lady ice cream order, and he's eating it with a little plastic spoon despite asking for a cone, painstakingly slowly, savouring each tiny spoonful with great concentration. Which is also very old lady-like.

Martin shouldn't find that as endearing as he does, he's pretty sure.

However. It isn’t his fault it’s adorable. He sort of feels like he's about to collapse, with the amount of blood too busy rushing to his face to attend to any of the other very important functions it should attend to.

It doesn't help that his hair is tied back in a hastily fastened bun, messy and practical, that somehow still manages to look effortlessly artsy on Jon.

There are a couple of loose strands framing the angles of his face in a way that makes Martin's heart stutter in his chest, vague metaphors crowding his mind in flashes – something about loving hands carving wood in the shape of him, and about the sun kissing his eyes golden, and just. It's a lot.

He will not think about that. He cannot.)

In fact, unfortunately, he knows how he ended up in this situation.

It was Tim. Of course it was Tim.

Tim, who has been incredibly obnoxious about prodding and teasing and needling him into asking Jon on a date ever since the Great Soup Incident, as it's been referred to since they all went out for drinks once his flu had completely relented.

That was three weeks ago.

Martin has not known any peace since.

Tim had initially pitched his theory on that first evening back, over their third pint of beer – the two previous rounds, in Martin's humble opinion, being the only reason he could ever come up with such an idea at all.

«I think Jon likes you, Marto.» he had said, casual as anything, an arm around his shoulders ready to slap his back when inevitably the words registered and he almost choked to death on his drink.

Sasha had raised an eyebrow, looking at them from across the table. She didn’t comment, even though it was obviously a sign of alcohol poisoning starting to set in and they should have gotten Tim to an hospital as soon as possible, probably. Far from letting it drop, her silence only served as further encouragement for Tim to elaborate.

«No, no – hear me out, alright? What I think – and not only I'm amazing, in general, I also know the both of you very well –, yes, so what I think is that Jon is panicking. Why, you ask? Well, naturally because he has a big old crush on you, Martin, my friend! And he has no idea how to deal with that because he's also been an ass to you!» Tim had explained, cheerful, like his reasoning made perfect sense and not at all like he was about to blackout from a concussion, which would have been the more logical conclusion.

He had turned to Sasha in despair, silently begging her to agree with him – she's so level-headed, surely she was going to see that there was no rhyme or reason to any of that, no universe in which Jonathan Sims had a crush on him. On him. It's simply unthinkable. Preposterous.

Sasha had looked him straight in the eye. Then she had smiled, light and dangerous.

«Actually, I agree with Tim. It really sounds like a Jon thing to do.» she had said. The traitor. That’s when he first realised his friends are cruel, awful people, mocking him so.

And it hadn't stopped there, either.

It's been three very long weeks of constant nudges and winking and a lot of elbows planting in Martin's side every time Jon was in the same room as all of them, supposedly doing something prove Tim's convictions.

Except it never stopped.

It was all the time, while Jon was in his general vicinity. Even in the remote, extremely unlikely scenario in which it could have been useful data to prove his point, Martin doubts it could have been an accurate analysis of Jon's behaviour anyways.

Because the thing is, he couldn’t exactly deny that something different had happened.

That something had changed, after that Thursday evening in Martin's flat.

Jon is… trying.

He apologised properly, for one.

He's less harsh on his mistakes, which makes it easier for him to relax and make less mistakes, which in turn makes Jon smile at him, now, apparently?

Jon smiling at him is a thing that happens, now.

He'll bring him his first cup of tea of the morning, as he has been doing since he was transferred to the Archives and which never prompted anything more than a mumbled, distracted thank you before. And even that only when Jon noticed him leaving the mug on his desk.

But the Monday following the Great Soup Incident he had looked up from the statement he was busy glaring at when Martin had knocked on his office door, and he had thanked him with the same quiet, delicate tone he had used while he was sitting on his bed and giving him water and medicine. Like this was a perfectly normal thing to do.

And he had smiled at him. It was a small thing – it had scrunched up his nose, a little.

Martin had almost spilled the tea, startled, and then he had stammered something about work to do and nonexistent families to contact and had rushed out of the room before Jon could register the glowing red blush on his cheeks, or the fact his eyes had very much lingered on his lips. On the way the unfamiliar expression barely pulled the corners up, softening his features, as he wondered how it would feel to kiss that smile wider. To hear him laugh, maybe.

(He's pretty sure the day he hears Jon laugh is the day he dies.

Martin just knows – it simply isn't something he'll be able to survive, not with the way his breath catches on the faint lines that appear around his eyes when he's happy, something aching and sweet tightening like a fist around his heart every time he manages to smooth out the semi-permanent frown on his forehead.)

And, yes, maybe it is a bit weird that Jon also takes his lunch break with him.

Honestly, it's really weird he stops for lunch at all – Martin has been concerned about him not eating for months, and they have all been taking turns to try and needle him into taking a break with varying degrees of success – but it's especially so that whenever he does decide to have lunch, it's because Martin asks.

That... never seemed to be the case, before.

But he can't really complain, and it eases some of the ever-present worry about Jon working himself too hard that he has to wrestle with on a daily basis.

What’s more, he gets to sit across from him at a cafe table and longingly gaze at him as he gestures wildly with his sandwich while he goes on some tangent or other about deep sea gigantism or the questionable accuracy of historical records or another surprisingly fascinating topic Martin knows nothing about. He would listen to a two-hour lecture on the merits of white rice over balsamic vinegar with no regrets, if it meant he got to witness Jon's hair bouncing happily as he got more and more animated, hands dancing in front of him, cheeks going red because he forgets to stop talking to take a breath more often than not.

Along with other evidence – as Tim keeps calling the strange little instances of Jon doing distinctly un-Jon-like things – and the fact that his co-workers are bastards, Martin really had every reason to not be surprised at all when he walked into the Archives, that morning, and was greeted by an incredibly tense standoff between Jon and Tim himself. At his desk, for some reason.

However, Martin is also an idiot, and he was surprised.

Even more so when this was somehow followed – in a turn of events that left him kind of dizzy, holding on for dear life to a world that had mostly made sense five minutes before – by Jon stammering out an unbelievably awkward you– since Tim refuses, w-we are set to investigate a supposedly cursed ice cream parlour later, Martin. Don’t leave for lunch before one, please before promptly disappearing inside his office with not but a glance back, leaving Martin to gape at the closed door like a very confused fish.

So, yeah. This – this being the fact that he just had to utter the words does this ice cream taste haunted to you and also probably the cold he will end up nursing after sitting on a park bench in February – is all Tim’s fault.

He set them up. Like. Like they’re in a corny Christmas romcom, except it’s not Christmas and also this is real life and also Jon is his boss and there isn’t one single chance in the world he would not think Martin’s embarrassing crush on him is anything other than that. Embarrassing. Tim is delusional. And also an awful friend trying to make him embarrass himself, like he doesn’t manage well enough on a daily basis.

Except.

Jon doesn’t, in fact, turn around to glare holes into him, or try to drown Martin in his single scoop of rum and raisin, or even simply get up to walk away like he figured would happen in the best case scenario.

No.

Jon does the one thing he could have never even begun to imagine would happen.

He snorts.

It’s such a small sound Martin would think he hallucinated it, if not for the fact his own body wouldn’t betray him like this, making him think up something that sends his brain into a frantically blinking blue screen error, not able to process literally any thought besides.

Jon. Laughing – and not about anything, but laughing at Martin’s awkward attempt at lightening up the somehow tense atmosphere that had settled upon them, desperately trying to ease Jon into the comfortable, playful banter he had gotten used to hearing from him during their lunch breaks at the cafe.

A part of him is really smug about it.

He was right. He died. He must have done something right in his life and also his mother’s pastor was wrong, clearly, because he died and this must be Heaven.

Jon’s laugh is, possibly, the most adorable thing about him to date.

(That’s saying something, considering Martin spends a considerable amount of time cataloguing every cute thing about Jon in a growing list in his head.

The fact every new thing he discovers usually bumps up to first place immediately, displacing the previous one, is irrelevant. So is the fact first and second place are also irrelevant per se, because it’s simply impossible to classify them objectively anyway.)

He’s really proud of himself, actually.

Not only he made Jon laugh, he also did not immediately melt in an adoring puddle on the ground next to him. He’s just blushing. A lot. If he tries very hard he can probably pass it off as rightful awkwardness at asking an incredibly stupid question.

That is, until Jon – for some unfathomable reason, that Martin cannot begin to guess and that sends his poor overworked brain into yet another shortcircuit – casually puts a hand on his arm, steadying himself as his laughter dies out slowly.

It’s just – too much. The way his fingers tighten a bit, enough that he can feel the pressure even through his coat. How Jon looks up at him, a smile still playing on his lips, and there’s the tiniest smudge of ice cream right at the corner of his mouth.

No one can blame him for losing control of his mouth.

«Jon. Is– is this… a date?» he asks, and then immediately slaps a hand over his face in despair, wishing there was a way to physically grab the words and put them back.

There isn’t.

He keeps his hand on his face because he cannot possibly face him after this – not as he immediately starts trying to come up with a good enough apology for all that. There aren’t enough apologies in the world, probably.

Hey, sorry, it’s just I’ve been pining after you for a year and you suddenly decided I was someone worth smiling at and it’s becoming really difficult to, y’know, not fall in love with you even more. Terribly sorry about all that.

Yeah, no.

Before he can do the sensible thing – which, he suspects, would be learn very quickly how to vanish into thin air – Jon starts talking instead. He… also doesn’t let go of Martin’s arm, even though currently he’s using that hand to cover his eyes, which means his knuckles are brushing against his cheek.

Martin is going to have a heart attack.

«No. No, this- this is a case follow-up. F-for an incredibly idiotic case.» Jon says, and there’s a hint of humour in his voice, irony masking something deeper. Martin can’t quite detect what it is – nervousness, maybe? But why would he–

«B-but. We could, if you- if you were amenable and you, of course only if you wanted it to be a- a date, we could. Go. On one. A date? T-together?»

Oh.

It’s enough to convince him to glance cautiously in Jon’s direction, peeking through his fingers. Jon is looking at him very expectantly, and in the sun it’s easy to see he’s blushing, too, a little.

He’s smiling.

It’s a new one, all subdued, sweet as honey. It’s also the fondest expression Martin has seen on his face yet, softening the sharp angles of him into something novel, warmer than the crisp February air could ever be. He wants to cradle that expression in his hands and memorise every detail of it.

It’s comforting, in some way, to find out Jon is also an idiot.

«Jon. Jon. If I’m amenable? I’ve– I’ve been sighing after you for almost a- a year. Yes. God, yes, I’m amenable.» he says, and it’s exasperated and yet he can’t even pretend to hide the quivering happiness in his tone, the grin splitting his face that he can’t seem to get rid of.

He doesn’t think he imagines Jon’s blush growing deeper, either, or the mumbled how would I know, it wasn’t that obvious that he muffles into his shoulder.

He isn’t even mad Tim was right.

(The ice cream tastes much better after that.

Probably because he has to hold it with one hand, the fingers of his right intertwined with Jon’s as they make their way back to the Institute.

And yes, they forget to let go of each other before entering the Archives. Because they’re both idiots and they were too busy sneaking extremely-not-subtle looks at each other to realise their mistakes, apparently.

«I told you it was going to work, Sash!!! They couldn’t possibly be that dense.»)

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #teaholding #!!! this is SO cheesy and i love it #i in fact enjoy being as cringe as possible for valentine's day #featuring as much gay panic as i could possibly cram into a single fic #rip martin #also fun fact:#that first line of dialogue popped into my head the SECOND I was done with the other one #and I was like #no we cannot do this #we have other stuff to write brain you CANT do this to me #... it did #also ofc tim and sasha know perfectly well what they're doing they're just having a grand time fucking with them #as they should #honourable mention also to the rum and raisin ice cream #+ i hope it's still valentine's day somewhere (like here it is but yeah) because i'm kind of late with this

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