#that’s so much better than jmart | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

grahamfolgersdeliciousnotebooks · 8 months

Text

Happy Jmart-iversary!!! Have some S1 annoyances-to-lovers (or, well, annoyances-to-mutual pining) Jmart to celebrate their day!

Martin usually has more shame than this.

Despite what certain Archivists might think, he isn’t oblivious. He knows Jon doesn’t like him, and while Jon seems to think that Martin has made it his mission in life to bother him whenever possible, Martin usually does his best to avoid Jon as much as civility and his job will allow.

But the thing is, Martin is lonely.

Worse than that, he’s 1 AM Lonely.

Martin has become something of an expert in loneliness, over the years, and he can confidently assert that 1 AM loneliness is the absolute worst. 7 AM loneliness is rough. 8 PM loneliness can be dire. But 1 AM loneliness is utterly, entirely hopeless. If he felt this way while the sun was still up, he might be able to find an excuse to call Tim and Sasha that wasn’t just, “I wanted to hear your voice.” If nothing else, he could walk to a library, or a coffee shop, and remember that there were other people in the world. But at 1 AM, he has nothing to do but sit with the yawning, aching emptiness in his chest, and feel like he is the last person left on the face of the earth.

Except for Jonathan Sims.

He’d always sort of suspected that Jon had a deeply unhealthy work schedule, but he was still surprised at how often he wandered out of Document Storage after midnight, expecting to have the Archives to himself, only to run into Jon in the breakroom. He’s always more irritable at night – which Martin wouldn’t have thought possible, a month ago – but an irritable Jon is better than nothing, which is how Martin has found himself standing outside Jon’s office in his pajamas, socked feet barely keeping out the chill of the scuffed linoleum floor.

There’s still time to change his mind. He could still turn around, go back to the cot in Document Storage, and sit in his insomnia with some semblance of dignity intact.

He knocks.

There’s no response, but Martin’s used to that, so he lets himself in. When the door opens, Jon lifts his head from his work to stare daggers at him.

“Yes?” he snaps. “What do you want?”

“Just– J-Just checking in. Do you need anything?”

“No,” Jon says with a finality that borders on rudeness.

“Right.” Martin can take a hint, so he starts backing out of the door. “I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Jon purses his lips like he wants to say, See to it that you do, but is aware that that would be rude even for him, and says nothing. Martin winces as he pulls the door shut behind him.

Well. He did achieve what he was setting out to. He no longer feels like he’s completely alone in the world – there’s at least one asshole here with him.

Somehow, that thought comforts him enough that he is finally able to sleep.

The next few days, Martin manages to sleep a bit better. The Archives are remarkably empty on the weekend – not even Jon is working Saturdays, this week – so he has to contend with 3 PM loneliness (and 4 PM loneliness, and 5 PM loneliness…) but by 1 AM he is sound asleep. When the work week starts again on Monday, Martin is feeling almost well-rested.

Jon, it seems, isn’t.

He hasn’t stayed late at the office for the past few days, but whatever he was doing away from work, Martin feels confident that it wasn’t sleeping. He’s in an even worse mood than usual, and chews Martin out for a full 5 minutes about a simple formatting error that Martin has seen Tim and Sasha make before.

(Tim used to work in publishing, he thinks but does not point out, he built his career on finding formatting problems, so if even he screws this up occasionally, I’m pretty sure it’s not a huge deal. But of course, when Tim makes a mistake, he gets a note on his report asking him to revise it, not a 10-minute lecture in which it’s implied that he doesn’t take seriously the historic institution for which he works, and that he may as well be spitting on the grave of Jonah Magnus with each misused semicolon.)

Which makes it all the more embarrassing when 1 AM rolls around and Martin once again hesitates outside the door to Jon’s office. He’s got tea this time, which is a pretty feeble excuse to barge in at 1 in the morning, but it’s a better one than he had last time. He has to shift both mugs to one hand to get the door open.

“Tea?” he asks in lieu of a hello. “I was making some for myself and figured you might want some.” (It’s a bald-faced lie, but Jon doesn’t need to know that.) When Jon doesn’t respond, Martin trips over himself to fill the silence. “It’s, uh. I-It’s herbal. I hope that’s alright. Thought caffeine was probably a bad idea, this time of night.”

“Hm,” is all Jon says in response, but he still takes a sip.

Martin settles into the seat opposite the desk. Jon eyes him suspiciously, but once again says nothing. He turns his attention back to his laptop, and they drink their tea in silence.

It’s almost pleasant, somehow. The tea is delicious, in Martin’s completely unbiased opinion, and Jon relaxes enough to become a reassuring presence. He doesn’t speak, but he’s a living, breathing human in the same room as Martin, and that’s all Martin needs right now. Jon sighs and coughs and taps his foot, and whenever he notices a mistake in whatever it is he’s reading, he gives an irritable click of his tongue and starts typing furiously. At one point he even laughs. It’s not much – a quiet little bark of a laugh, barely any louder than his sighs – but it still comes as a surprise.

“What?” Martin asks, and Jon startles as though he forgot Martin was there.

Jon looks vaguely mortified to have done something so human and unprofessional as to laugh, but he explains, “Tim’s report on the Ramao case. His methods for obtaining Ramao’s marriage license were… very Tim.”

“Ah.” Martin has a few guesses at what that could mean. “B&E, bribery, or flirting?”

“Flirting,” Jon confirms. “Honestly, I’d prefer a good B&E. At least then I wouldn’t have to explain to Elias why dinner for two at Frescobaldi counts as a business expense.”

“Always happy to do my part,” Martin grins, but his smile droops as he adds, “Though my last break-in didn’t quite go to plan.”

Jon’s face grows serious as well. “Right. How, uh, h-how are you… adjusting?”

“Fine,” Martin says, and it’s not the biggest lie he’s told in his life, but it’s close.

“Right,” Jon says again. He doesn’t ask any follow-up questions, and Martin can’t help but be relieved to let the subject drop, even if the rest of the conversation drops with it. They go back to drinking their tea in silence, and soon enough it’s time for Martin to collect their empty mugs and slink back out of the office.

This time, at least, Jon says good-bye.

“Good night, Martin.”

Martin’s lips twitch upward, just a hair. “Good night, Jon.”

He sets the mugs in the sink and heads back to Document Storage, and he’s asleep within minutes.

Tuesday night he manages to fall asleep at a shockingly reasonable hour. Which is wonderful, right up until it isn’t.

He wakes up in a cold sweat from a nightmare that is already fading from his memory. His dad was in it, which is rare. He tries to recall what his face had looked like, but it’s gone. Maybe he hadn’t even had a face – dreams are like that sometimes – but he can still feel it at the edges of his memory, slipping away with each passing second.

He does his best to remember what the dream had been about. He was back in the apartment he used to share with his mother, the tiny, dingy place that forever smelled like mildew and cigarettes even though neither of them smoked, and his father was there. Then he left, again, and his mother was furious. She didn’t need to say that she blamed Martin, he could read it in her face, but she told him anyway. And then the apartment was a hospital room, and there were nurses yelling at him, too – how could he upset his mother at a time like this? Didn’t he know how ill she was? And then the hospital was his new apartment, and the mildew smell wasn’t mildew at all but worms, worms and rot, and he hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks. He hadn’t spoken to anyone in weeks, and no one had thought to check on him, and the only one in the world who cared whether he lived or died was the woman trying to break down his door and fill him with worms.

So not the best dream he’s ever had.

He checks his phone. 12:22. Great. Too late to talk to anyone, too early to just get out of bed and start the day.

He stares out at the dark room. Document Storage has no windows, and with the hallway light off, there isn’t even any light spilling in under the doorway, so his eyes have nothing to catch on. He can do nothing but sit in the dark as the afterimage of his bright phone screen gets swallowed up by the gloom.

It’s not as though the dream was real. He’s safe for now; the worms can’t get to him here. And he’s not alone in the world. He’s not. His coworkers didn’t just abandon him to die – he’s seen the texts, he knows they had every reason to think he was safe.

Still, if Tim had been out for two full weeks with a stomach bug, Martin would have been on his doorstep with soup and ginger chews and an offer to drive him to the doctor any time he needed. He would have checked up on him. So would Sasha. So would Jon, probably – as much as he likes to present himself as aloof and coldly professional, Martin knows he cares about Tim and Sasha a whole lot more than he lets on. There’s only one person in the Archives who could disappear without being missed.

It isn’t that his friends don’t care about him. He knows they do. But he also knows, with bone-deep certainty, that they don’t care about him as much as he cares about them, and that’s a very lonely feeling.

Martin pushes himself out of bed. He doesn’t know what to do, exactly, but he’s had enough nightmares in his life to know that getting out of bed and away from the room he woke up in is a good place to start.

There’s a light on in Jon’s office. This time, Martin can’t even bring himself to be embarrassed when he steps inside.

Jon is sitting behind his desk, like always, scribbling furiously in the margins of some document Martin doesn’t recognize. He doesn’t even glance up when Martin enters the room this time.

“Yes?”

“Do you–” Martin’s voice is hoarse and rough – he hadn’t thought to get anything to drink when woke up, and now his throat is painfully dry – but he clears his throat and pushes through. “Do you need anything?”

“No.”

“Right.”

Martin takes a seat in the chair beside the desk. He doesn’t try to make conversation. He doubts Jon wants to hear it, and he isn’t feeling up for it, anyway. He just sits and listens to the scratching of Jon’s pen.

He’d be more than happy to sit in silence all night, but Jon keeps pausing his work to shoot suspicious glances Martin’s way, and Martin knows he ought to say something, so he clears his throat again and asks, “Are you sure you don’t need anything?”

“Quite sure, thank you.”

He sounds more than a little irritated. Martin should definitely take that as a sign to leave, but he isn’t ready to go back to sitting in the dark in Document Storage just yet.

“I could make tea?” he offers. “It’s no trouble, really.”

“I don’t need tea,” Jon snaps. “And I don’t need help, and I certainly don’t need a nosy coworker barging into my office every five minutes to try and guilt me into leaving work.”

“What?”

“I know what you’re doing,” Jon insists. “And it’s none of your business how late I work–”

“I don’t care how late you work! I mean, I think you could stand to get some sleep once in a while, but that’s not–”

“Then why are you always hovering around any time I work late?”

Martin is too tired to think better of it before he snaps, “Because I’m lonely, Jon! Because it’s one in the bloody morning and I can’t sleep and everyone else I know is already in bed. Believe me, if there was a single other person I could be talking to right now, I wouldn’t be here.”

“Oh.”

That’s all Jon says. Martin isn’t sure what he’s going to say if he stays in this room any longer, so he stands up.

“I’m going to make tea. Do you want any?”

Jon nods.

When Martin comes back with two perfectly-brewed cups of camomile-and-vanilla, Jon has set aside his pen and his notes and is fidgeting at his desk. Anxiety and shame flicker across his face when he accepts the mug that Martin offers him.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t thinking. I thought you just wanted me out of the Archives.”

“Yeah, well. Not everything’s about you.”

And Jon laughs at that – the same soft, barking laugh he’d given to Tim’s report – and Martin feels a strange sort of affection flood through him at the sound. Pretty inconvenient, given that he was just getting used to being irritated with Jon.

“I suppose I deserve that.” Jon smiles, and it’s somehow worse than the laugh. There are a few more minutes of silence before he speaks up again. “Have you, um. Have you ever tried lavender?”

“What?”

“Whenever I tell people I have insomnia, they always recommend lavender – lavender essential oil, lavender tea, lavender eye masks…”

“Have you tried it? Does it help?”

“Not in the least,” Jon says. “Not for me. But maybe it would help you.”

“Maybe,” Martin agrees, more out of politeness than any real hope. “Never hurts to try.”

Jon nods. He looks for a moment like he’s debating with himself whether to say anything else, then he clears his throat with an awkward little grimace and says, “If– i-if you ever need to talk… I can’t promise I’ll be very good conversation, but I can promise I won’t yell at you next time.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Martin’s insomnia doesn’t get any better. Breathing exercises don’t help, and neither does the white noise app he downloads. A box of lavender tea mysteriously appears in the break room, and it doesn’t make him tired, but it does leave him with a warm, fuzzy feeling that can’t be entirely explained by having drunk a hot beverage.

Jon starts staying late more often. Some nights, just knowing that he’s there is comforting enough to stave off the worst of Martin’s loneliness, but some nights he finds himself once again sitting in the chair in Jon’s office while Jon sits across from him with his nose buried in a statement. Jon never asks for an explanation anymore, just nods at Martin when he comes in and then gets back to work.

They don’t talk much on nights like this, but they do talk. Mostly it’s just chatter – how was your day? Did you see what Tim was wearing today? How long until they fix the aircon in this building? – but some nights the conversation opens up to the kind of vulnerability that only 2 AM can bring.

“I wish I was as close with Tim and Sasha as you are.”

It’s not a complete non sequitur – they were just talking about their coworkers – but Martin can still feel the tone shift between them.

Jon just blinks. “What do you mean? I’m certain they like you more than they like me – The three are always going out to lunch–”

“And we always invite you!” Martin reminds him, “You just never come! And anyway, you three go way back, you all know each other so well… They don’t even know me well enough to know if it’s me texting them or some evil worm woman.” He’s gotten to know Jon well enough over the past few weeks to know that, supportive or not, Jon’s never very quick with words of comfort, so he goes on. “I can’t complain – I mean, they’re nice! They’re really nice! It’s just… it’s not fun, feeling like the odd one out.”

Jon flashes him a grimace that Martin thinks is supposed to be commiserative but mostly just looks awkward. “For what it’s worth,” he says, “I also wish I was closer with Tim and Sasha. Things haven’t been the same since we transferred from Research. And it doesn’t help that they both know Sasha should have been promoted over me.”

Martin wants to reassure him, tell him that Elias must have promoted him for a reason, but he’s the last person who can argue that Elias always hires the most qualified person for the job.

“Anyway,” Jon says, “I know for a fact they like you. Have you just told them how you feel?”

“Have you?”

Jon smiles. “Alright, fair enough.”

The conversation moves on to lighter topics from there, and Martin almost forgets about it. But the next time 1 AM loneliness hits, it’s a relief to know that he isn’t the only one in the Archives who’s lonely.

Jon stays late every night the next week.

Martin knows Jon doesn’t want anyone chiding him, but he worries. He looks more and more worn out by the day, and Martin’s pretty sure he’s getting less work done for all the time he’s spending in the Archives.

When Martin wakes up from another nightmare (just a Prentiss nightmare this time, not a Prentiss-and-his-mother double feature) he doesn’t have to question if Jon’s around. When he checks his phone and sees that it’s well past 2 AM, some small, optimistic part of him thinks Jon might have gone home by now, but he isn’t at all surprised when he sees light spilling in from under the door in Jon’s office.

Jon doesn’t look up when Martin enters the room.

He looks rough. His head is resting in his hands, shoulders slumped, fingers wearily massaging his temples. When he hears the door click closed behind Martin, he finally looks up, and Martin can see that the dark circles under his eyes have gotten worse.

“Go home, Jon,” he says, and Jon shakes his head.

“I’m fine.”

“You need sleep.”

“I doubt I could get any sleep tonight regardless,” Jon says. “Insomnia, remember?”

“Well, try,” Martin says, patience waning. “Go home.”

“I can’t.” Jon’s voice is small and hoarse, and he sounds more vulnerable than he ever has in all their late-night chats.

“What do you mean, you can’t?”

“You were alone for two weeks, Martin,” he says, voice hushed as though he’s confessing something. “I can’t leave you alone like that again.”

Oh. Martin puts some pieces together. His boss has been running himself ragged, staying at work past 2 in the morning most days, because he’s convinced Martin can’t handle being alone at night. He thinks that Martin is a child in need of a security blanket, and has decided that the best course of action is to simply never leave work. It is, unfortunately, very sweet, but it’s also utterly humiliating.

“I can handle being alone!” he sputters, mortified beyond belief. “Believe me, I’ve had plenty of practice. I don’t need you to always be around. I-I know I said I get lonely sometimes, but, God, I’m not that pathetic.”

Jon frowns. “I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he whispers. “Believe me, Martin, that’s the last thing I think. I know I haven’t always been… fair to you. Or kind. Or even civil. If I had been fair to you, you wouldn’t be living in this basement.” He drops his gaze and addresses his next words to his hands. “It’s my fault you have to stay here,” he murmurs. “The very least I can do is ensure that you don’t have to stay here alone.”

Martin doesn’t know what to say to that. His brain cycles through several options and discards them all as insufficient. In the end, he decides to forgo words altogether. He stands up, reaches over, and pulls Jon out of his seat and into a hug.

Jon startles, and for a moment Martin thinks he’s made a horrible miscalculation, but then wraps his scrawny arms around his middle and squeezes tight.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I forgive you,” Martin says. “Now go home.”

That Friday, the four of them go out for drinks after work. It’s Martin’s idea, and he insists that they invite Jon. Tim and Sasha tell him it’s a lost cause – Jon’s never agreed to get lunch with them, he certainly won’t agree to drinks – but lo and behold, Jon agrees.

It’s awkward. Martin hasn’t left the Archives much since Prentiss, and he’s on high alert for worms, but he can’t deny that having his coworkers with him is a comfort. Sat around a sticky high-top table in a pub that smells like stale beer and fresh sweat, the conversation simply flows. Every now and then, the other three will laugh at some inside joke from their research days, but Jon always makes a point of bringing Martin up to speed.

Afterwards, Jon walks him back to the Archives. Martin is floating in a warm, hazy middle ground between ‘tipsy’ and ‘drunk,’ and Jon seems to be feeling much the same.

“I could stay, if you’d like,” Jon says.

“I’ll be fine,” Martin says.

When he makes it to the cot in Document Storage, he’s asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.

It would be nice, Martin thinks, if getting closer to people were the straightforward antidote to loneliness – if making friends were enough to stop him feeling so utterly friendless. But loneliness is never a simple thing, and some nights he still finds himself lying awake at night feeling like the last man on earth.

He checks the time. 1 AM. Naturally.

For the second time in a week, Jon doesn’t look up to see Martin when he enters the room. This time, he’s slumped over the desk, dead asleep.

He looks smaller, somehow, when he’s sleeping. His face is slack, the perpetual furrow in his brow is gone, and his hair is falling across his face in a way that leaves Martin itching to reach over and tuck it behind his ear. He looks cute, if Martin’s being entirely honest, but Jon’s only started being mostly-nice to Martin in the past two weeks or so, so Martin isn’t ready to be that honest with himself quite yet.

He reaches out a hand and gently shakes Jon’s shoulder.

“Jon.”

Jon stirs but doesn’t wake, so Martin shakes harder.

“Jon,” he repeats. No luck.

He sighs. He’s still wide awake, and he doubts that’s going to change any time soon. At least one of them should get some use out of the cot.

It’s surprisingly easy to pick Jon up. Jon stirs slightly as Martin scoops him into his arms, and for one terrifying second he thinks he’s going to wake up in Martin’s arms, but he doesn’t. Opening the doors to first the office and then Document Storage is more than a little tricky with his hands full, but he manages.

He sets Jon down on the bed as gently as he can, but Jon finally rouses as Martin tucks a blanket over his shoulders.

“Martin?” he mumbles, voice still thick with sleep.

“Go back to sleep, Jon.”

It doesn’t seem like Jon needs any encouragement. His eyes are already slipping closed again, but he manages to ask, “Will you be alright on your own?”

“Yeah,” Martin says, “I’ll be alright.”

And he means it.

(View this story on AO3)

#tma fanfic #tma fic #jonmartin fic #jmart fic #jmart fanfic #jonmartin fanfic #do not archive

49 notes · View notes

its-your-mind · 2 years

Text

ya know that time when jmart were trapped in document storage hiding from jane prentiss? and they had their heart-to-heart where jon asked martin if he was a ghost and martin had to reboot his whole brain to account for the fact that jonathan sims? his boss? who implied that almost every statement was false? was asking him if he was a ghost??

and then Jon tells Martin that of course he believes in the supernatural, he works at the magnus institute. And of course he knows there’s something different about the statements that can only be recorded on tape. But he was so scared of the eye the thing that he felt watching him read those statements, so he put on his Skeptic Academic voice and, on record, dismissed all of those statements as probable falsehoods.

But ya know what? For pretty much every statement in s1, jon includes the most convincing piece of evidence at the tail end of the recording, where it would be most memorable. He starts his post-statement notes by cataloguing all the details they do have, then he lays out all the reasons not to believe what’s presented in the statement, but then, at the very end, he always drops that Little Detail that proves that the statement was true. Whether it’s a frame of camera footage showing a ghost, or a man found wrapped entirely in spiderwebs, or a pack of marlbaro red cigarettes sticking out of a pocket, he always finishes his analysis with the most compelling piece of evidence.

And with the shift in perspective from his conversation with Martin, and knowing what we do about Jon’s past, it casts every statement’s notes in a different light. While Jon’s uncomfortable stating the truth in plain terms, he will make sure that anyone who comes in to listen to these tapes later knows the truth. He became a researcher for the magnus institute so that he could better understand what had happened to him as a child.

And maybe, more than that, he’s trying to compile information so that anyone who comes seeking the same answers as him can find them here. They might scoff at how stupid jonathan sims (head archivist of the magnus institute, london) is for not seeing what’s right in front of him, but at least they’ll leave more prepared for what’s out there, and for what they might have to face. And maybe that way, he can help someone else avoid the feeling of survivor’s guilt that has been with him his whole life.

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #jonathan sims #listen #I just #I love him #he just! wants! to help!!#but also he is SUCH A BITCH #we stan a queen who can do both

189 notes · View notes

arthurtaylorlester · 1 year

Note

whispers into your inbox "jmart was the worst thing that could have happened in tma; it wrecked Jon's character and is the most transparent 'how do we not have our mc become suicidal?' I have ever seen. TMA then falls into the hole of the only important or good enough relationships being romantic, discarding previous character development to throw everything into romance solves all ~ ♡ I hate it and I hate how much Jon is woobified and infantilized in the fandom to drool over Martin and I hate how everyone acts like their relationship is good, when I think either of them with 5 years of a normal life would realize how awful the relationship was for both of them." Anyway lol I expect no response or post of this I am just being spicey on anon

oh anon you thought i was gonna see a take like this and not post it?

i need you to out yourself to me because goddamn this is an interesting take!

look, i love jmart, but even with 5 seasons of development they still somehow managed to feel rushed?

i disagree in that their relationship being unhealthy is a bad thing for them, because like the appeal of podcasts for me is the fucked up relationships. fucked up characters = fucked up relationships, yknow? like john and arthur from malevolent, normally, they'd hate each other without much of a second thought, but that's not the point, they love each other despite that, and that kind of extends to jmart for me.

i also totally agree with the fandom criticism, woobifying jon is like the only tma content i see on twt and it is soooooo annoying.

my personal qualms with tma however is in part the lore decisions and how the fandom treats the lore (and also the whole podcast).

s1 is easily the best season, mostly because you have no fucking idea what's going on, but after s2 things really start feeling like they're being drawn out, at least to me? like i think season 3-4 couldve been one thing, and um. season 5 is fun if you like jmart and the eye ig. i know most of this is a gross oversimplification (not forgetting yall basira&daisy fans) but after the core cast of season 1-2 i could not really get the other characters being fundamental in the story (not georgie. i love georgie)

don't get me wrong, the not-sasha arc was amazing! but after tim died, and martin fucked off for most of a season being sad, i was a bit bored. the buried isnt interesting to me sorry.

and also they under-utilize basically every fear, including the eye, and the one that upsets me the most is the stranger. oh what is it? circus and clowns ig. LIKE OPEN UP YOUR EYES THE WORLD IS OPEN TO YOU THE UNCANNY VALLEY AS SO MANY NICHES PLEASE

and by the end of the show, it just feels like they keep rotating the same 3 fears, and the others just kind fade into the bg

and then there's the fandom. i'm sorry but some of you guys act like tma is the end-all-be-all of fiction horror podcasts. when it's just not. sorry, but the magnus archives, after s1, just isnt scary. you know what's going on, the fears! which are neatly tied into these categories of oddities!

and the show explicitly states that the 14 fears categorization is arbitrary and that they all bleed into one another, but the fandom just. ignores that? like i've heard so many people go to other podcasts and say ''oh x is so eye avatar-coded!!'' and then x just has some vague eye symbolism that isnt even the point (this is about arthur lester)

and like i don't understand how tma manages to be the most mainstream fiction podcast nowadays, when welcome to night vale is right there ! and yes, i am implying that wtnv is objectively better than tma, because wtnv despite running for 12 goddamn years has never bored me with an episode, and it has roughly the same amounts of episodes! they both have similar formats that could repetitive quick (radio show vs statements) and even though i'd say statements have more creative freedom, wtnv still manages to not be boring. this might also just be a fact of better and more varied authors but hey, this is just my opinion

i want it to be clear that i'm not trying to start discourse, i still like tma! the fanartists are some of the most talented artists i've seen, and the fics are just aughhhhhhhhhhhh /pos

#podcasts fandoms have next to no discourse but that also doesnt leave room for criticism #tma critical #<- just in case #2 magnus 2 arch-ives #!! red !!#anon #red replies #sorry to anon if you didnt want this to be public i needed to rant about the tma-glorification #i did listen to all of tma in 2 weeks but um that may have something to do with it #fandom critical #discourse #<- not really tho this is just my opinion

56 notes · View notes

sometimesiwanna-disappear · 2 months

Text

im gonna tbh with yall, listening to magnus archives again without the constant fanon bleed and regular discussion etc.... definitely colors it a different way lol! i have more criticisms than i did when i listened to it the first time and it makes me a bit sad because i love it so so soso much. just coming up on the unknowing arc and i'm mentally strapping myself in because i'm realizing things [I dont like jmart very much / would like it MUCH BETTER if martin was actually a twist villain and web aligned i keep seeing the wires johnny i am shaking you by the shoulders DID YOU TAKE WEB ALIGNED EVIL MARTIN FROM US TO APPEASE THE FOUND FAMILY FANFICTION SOFT TEENAGE FANS ..... tell me why jonelias is so much more appealing to me now relistening to it as a grown ass woman . PAIN].

#tma #i speak #im so sorry......... martin ... you deserved to be more manipulative and evil #and jon WHYYYYY do you keep not standing up for yourself . everyone is just mad at him and he keeeps taaaking it #get a little meaner pal. you guys both deserve it #i forgot how much i loved mean ass horrible bastard tim. not joking i love him miserable #he's the only bitch in this house i fully respect. he knew about smirke before everyone. he got his backstory. he lost everyone.#then he made it the stranger's fucking problem. you took them have fun exploding you idiots. i dont forgive you . but thank you for this.#IM FUCKING RABID.#gertrude and everything about her is still mwah chefs kiss though. no notes. go grandma go #she sucks and dies and kicked ass while doing it no whining from gertrude.#anyway cant tell if my tastes have matured or im just more critical because im not listening alongside my friends every week #or maybe im just kind of a biiiiiiiii... tch . now. it happens.#tma critical #not really but i guess.. just in case?????#oh last thought i swear im not just an edgelord i just really like when horror media actually really commits.#thats why timsasha is what i latched onto btw the no happiness of it is the APPEAAAAALLLL #THERE WIKLLB E NO KISSING IN THE MAGNUS INSTITUTE

8 notes · View notes

dancingacrossthemilkyway · 10 months

Text

Safehouse era :) Jmart, one of them burned their finger tips on a too hot cup of tea; when they’re holding hands and one just brings them up to their lips and places a kiss on their fingers

Jon really should’ve known better. It’s not that he’s helpless or anything, and he’s certainly made his own tea in the past - but he hasn’t ever dealt with a full metal teapot.

He’s not stupid. He is, in fact, really rather intelligent - even without the random, usually useless tidbits Beholding likes to drop in his mind. Which is why he is so ashamed that he did this. The teapot is old; he half believes it came with the house when Daisy purchased it so long ago. It’s old, and it’s full metal.

The stove is also old, and more temperamental. It gets hotter than it should (he only knows this because Martin’s complained frequently). He didn’t account for that, or the fact that the teapot is all metal. Of course it was hot when he picked it up. Metal conducts heat very well, and it didn’t even cross his mind that Martin keeps a potholder nearby for a reason.

Just once - this one time - he thought he’d make tea for them in the morning. To be sweet. Martin’s done so much for them since they came to Scotland, and Jon’s been feeling lately like he’s doing more taking than giving. So. Tea. A good place to start, right?

The moment his fingers grasp the scalding metal handle he yelps, yanking his hand away and staring at the angry blisters beginning to form. Because it’s his luck, they’re on his previously unburnt hand, so he can feel the burn in all of its glorious agony.

“Jon?” Martin calls out sleepily, wandering into the kitchen with a yawn. “What’s going o- Jon!” All drowsiness vanishes as he sees Jon hovering by the stove guiltily, holding the wrist of his hand with his face screwed up in pain. “Oh my god - what, I, how-”

“I thought… I’d… make… tea?” Jon says, his attempt at a smile turning more into a wince when Martin crosses the space between them. “I, erm…”

Martin sighs, then reaches over to turn off the stove as the kettle continues to whistle angrily. “Oh, Jon.” It really shouldn’t sound so fond when Martin’s clearly exasperated too, and yet. “Just - under the water, please.”

Naturally. Jon turns on the cold tap and slips his fingers under it, chewing on his lip. Martin disappears for a moment, returning with a first aid kit and pulling out a small packet of burn cream. “You forgot about how hot it gets, didn’t you.” It isn’t a question nor an accusation, and thankfully doesn’t trigger any guilt in Jon. “You’re sweet.”

“I’m not certain ‘sweet’ is the best word to describe me at the moment,” Jon replies wryly, staring at his cooling fingers as the water rushes over them. “I can certainly think of many more fitting descriptors.”

Martin moves to stand beside him. “I think I’ll stick with ‘sweet’ for now.” Shutting off the tap, he gently grasps Jon’s wrist and brings his hand up to his mouth, placing a soft kiss on the back of each burned finger. “At least this burn was from trying to make tea instead of, you know, shaking the hand of a Desolation avatar.”

Jon scoffs and rolls his eyes, but ends up giving Martin the ghost of a smile anyway. “Yes, yes, point made.”

Raising an eyebrow, Martin places one final kiss on the back of Jon’s hand. “Is it?” he asks in amusement, then points to the table. “Go put the cream on. I’ll finish the tea.”

———

Prompt list

#tma #the magnus archives #martin blackwood #jonathan sims #jmart #jon sims #milkywaywriting

25 notes · View notes

sm0kebreaks · 8 months

Note

It's understandable that writing the dear Jonah fic is a lot (long form fics really are a lot harder than people give credit for) but I just wanted to ask. Do you have any concrete idea what the general points would be? And the effect jmart would have on Jonah?

i only really had as far out as getting their asses to edinbourgh mapped out. i had snippets of slice of life things of jon and martin and annabelle adjusting to the time period where martin really struggled with both the isolation and jon was struggling desperately to go fully cold turkey not feeding on anyone (while living in the spiders house no less) that eventually came to a head where martin finds jons been taking laudinum to cope and its a WHOLE issue about supplimenting one addiction with another. and martin finds hes losing more and more of himself because he didnt realize that he'd died in the explosion and become a full avatar and had been feeding on himself since they got there. they have to find a happy medium where they have to find a way to take care of themselves while minimizing damage to others.

i hadnt fully gotten that plot point figured out past that beyond the idea of them going to a party and jon being the little devil on martins shoulder and convincing him to ask a wallflower to dance and when they do dance she and martin suddenly are in the entire ballroom alone while martin talks softly to her and all the while jon watches.

other than that i really only had planned writing out correspondence between jon and jonah as jon decides the only way he can survive without hurting people is if he can have access to the institute and insists he can guide jonah away from his ritual (wrong). jon becomes jonah's assistant, helping him sort and organize the absolute trainwreck of a cluttered mess his institute is and meanwhile jon can control his urges. i also wanted to explore jonah's life as the youngest son of a noble house who'd been dabbling in architecture as a hobby when he met robert smirke and learned about the fears. his relationship with his childhood friend barnabus who only wanted to be there for him even when jonah hardly gave him the time of day. and his slightly antagonistic relationship with the lukas son who wanted nothing to do with all the social dance of high society his family forces on him

beyond that, i hadn't really figured out what i wanted to do with jmart and jonah honestly. i drew a lot of silly fun stuff but i dont think i really wanted to make the whole plot of this au to be about jons wild fling with jonah magnus. but it was too fun to draw! i think jon and jonah become wildly intertwined with each other because they are so much the same person. i think martin and annabelle become closer as friends. and i think jon THINKS he's changed jonah for the better only for nothing to have changed at all as 50 years later jonah still does his ritual and theyre all stuck in a doomed time loop. but hey, mmaybe the next somewhere else will be better

#my dear jonah

9 notes · View notes

go-to-the-mirror · 1 year

Text

It's time, y'all!! The penultimate episode of season 4!! Jmart!!!

Uh, didn't draw anything again, but whatever. I mean. I dunno. Shrug.

it's time, now. episode 159. this is going to make me feel emotions.

this is mostly rambling.

@a-mag-a-day

CW for unreality; discussion of free will; second person POV (i keep doing it); potentially anxiety inducing rambling (don't know how this happened, related to the "you don't know the people you love" thing);

The title "The Last" could either a nod to Peter's line "You're the last one standing" or it could be... well... the last mark.

Hated it when I figured that out. Absolutely despised it.

ARCHIVIST (Calling) Martin! (Calling) Martin!

I'm sorry we're like five second in and it's just like hhh, he's in love, he's looking for Martin, love is real and Jon has it! It just makes me so abnormal when it's like, he's not even saying anything it's just! Aaa!! *points frantically*

PETER It’s odd, really. You each think you’re so focused on the other. But how much do you really know each other? How much time have you spent together when not working, or bickering, or fleeing from that latest thing that wants to kill you? So what are you seeking? The image you’ve each created of the other? The people you think you love don’t exist, not really. And that’s a very lonely place to be. ARCHIVIST (Vicious) Shut up. (calling) Martin!

Firstly, yeah, I feel that. I mean like, don't want to overshare or anything, but yeah.

You know how your head's always like "but they wouldn't like me if they knew the real me!" Mate, there is no real you. Like Sasha said, right, it's all just people playing characters. And sometimes those characters feel like you, but they're all made up of things in your head and memories you've had and at the end of the day, are we all not puppets pulled along by circumstance, fooling ourselves into thinking we have choices and identities. I think I need to put a CW on this-

I mean, that's attempted optimistic nihilism. What about... if you do a good job keeping up the charade, they'll never find out it's not the real you, but you will never be truly loved.

Wow, that helps less. Do not come here for advice.

ARCHIVIST (Mean) Make me. (considering) Unless you can’t. The Lonely and the Eye aren’t too far apart, are they? Not really. What good’s being alone if you don’t know how alone you truly are. Which means… Well, I think you’re worried. You know I’ll find him eventually and you know I can find you. (Beat) Hm. Thought so.

Damn, judgmental. Just the note "mean". I- rude??

Also, secondly, I'm saying this as someone with social anxiety and consequent... isolationist tendencies (read: I didn't talk to anyone for a whole summer) but the Ceaseless Watcher and The One Alone have always felt really... connected to me.

I mean, what better way to feel alone than to be convinced everyone's judging you. You convince yourself everyone wants you gone, you just barely hear them say your name as you leave the room.

Everyone's looking at you, you can't go in now, so better to remain unnoticed. Better to not go at all. Better to hide yourself away and never be seen under gazes that make want to tear your skin off.

Social Anxiety: the fear entity

I mean like, just like take MAG 188 and make it a little more also about how achingly lonely you feel but opening yourself up is hard and evil and people will look at you and perceive you and judge you and you've got both The Eye and The Lonely combined and my personal hell. Maybe throw in a bit of Corruption there, for the whole "woe upon woe, if they could see my rotten inner core full of being mean to people then they would hate me even more."

The Corruption is so cool, you guys, but you wouldn't get it, you wouldn't get how cool it is (I mean, you might, please talk to me about the corruption /genuine)

ARCHIVIST Martin. MARTIN (Flat) Jon? ARCHIVIST I-I’m here. I-I came for you. MARTIN Why? ARCHIVIST …I thought you might be lost.

AAAAAAAAA

The way Jon says "Martin," he sounds so relieved, hnhnrhnhrnhrr <3

HHHHHh!!!!

THE WAY JON SAYS THE LAST LINE IS SO SOFT IT SHOULD BE ILLEGAL TO BE THIS SOFT ISTG <33333

MARTIN Are you real?

He sounds so bitter when he says that, like he's mocking the idea that Jon could be real. Oh my god.

MARTIN This is where I should be. It feels right. ARCHIVIST Martin don’t say that. MARTIN Nothing hurts here. It’s just quiet. Even the fear is gentle here.

MARTIN NO

I get it though, you know, when being alone is the lesser of two evils. Like, what is it out there? Just more pain and fear and loss when it's so much easier to just stay there and fade away and never move and never get out of your room, and never talk to anyone and it's just so much easier, right. When it feels like it's a physical effort to drag yourself everywhere? When it's oh, so comfortable, out there in the cold.

You know, to me loneliness isn't fog or anything. To me it's around noon. The sky is mostly clear, the grass is slightly itchy, you're squinting against the glare of the sun. It's silent, bar the wind and the birds and your breathing. And then you suddenly realise you're alone. And there's no one there. And the warmth is making you tired. And sometimes you can say it's nice, lying on the ground under the sun like a lizard. And sometimes it just feels sad.

I like that the lonely is at the sea. The ocean just makes me feel strange emotions that I can't explain. Nice aesthetic too, fog and sea, lighter colours, blues and greys.

But I like my lonely quite a bit. It just feels... it feels like the lonely to me. Idk.

MARTIN It is, though. I really loved you, you know?

LOVE WINS????

PETER I tried to tell you. He’s gone. He made his choice. And it wasn’t you. ARCHIVIST It was for me, though. I’m the reason he— I did this to him as much as you.

Nononononono jon mr. jarchivist sims. NO! Alright, you know what, bringing in my brain here. No! Nooo! Alright, sure, you dying may have made him lonely, but you can't seriously blame yourself for dying - I know he blames himself for dying - and like coming back to life and stuff? He may have done it for Jon, but that doesn't put the blame on Jon. It puts the blame on... I don't know! Death! The world! Peter Lukas, but I'm loathe to blame him for anything because I really like his voice.

I have other things to say about this but tbh, I just think I have problems, and I've already shared so much absolutely terrible advice earlier, so I'm not going to perpetuate my probably harmful (in like a... this is a thought your brain could have! think about it! wow, doesn't it suck! this will stay here tho! way) thoughts, sooo.

PETER Where are your friends, Archivist? ARCHIVIST Tim and Sasha are dead. PETER Yes? ARCHIVIST Daisy and Basira are, probably dead. PETER Because. Of. You. ARCHIVIST Georgie and Melanie have left me. PETER And? ARCHIVIST Martin’s gone. PETER You’re alone, Archivist. The last one standing.

Got distracted playing piano, uh, :( this just makes me really sad. guy's literally living out my worst nightmare (all your friends either dying or leaving you, some telling you they'd literally rather you be dead, like god that hurts).

I just want him to get a hug :(

PETER After all, you can’t hurt anyone in here. ARCHIVIST …Yes… PETER Yes.

That would've probably worked had he not... yk, been there for Martin? And like, sort of... as he was trying to get into Jon's head sort of... revealing what he was?

Hmm

ARCHIVIST I wouldn’t try to leave if I were you. I can see you now. I can find you wherever you go.

Kinda... uh... hmm... hhnnmmm

Hot jon rights

My crew is out there waiting for a call I think I am now unlikely ever to give them.

Oh, right, because of the imminent eyepocolypse. I thought it was because he thought he'd die to jon

My instinct was much like the others, I thought that if I could complete my ritual first, then the potential birth of the dreadful change would be meaningless.

reminds me of

Smirke was still so obsessed with his ideas on balance, even as our fellows began to experiment and fall to the service of their patrons. I began to worry that if one of them successfully attempted their ritual, then I would be as much a victim as any, trapped in the nightmare landscape of a twisted world. At first, I attempted prevention, but the cause seemed hopeless. The only way to ensure I did not suffer the tribulations of what I believed to be an inevitable transformation was to bring it about myself.

(MAG 160)

So, it's like a rerun of all those rituals, but 1900s and 2000s edition, instead of 1800s.

On Peter's ritual... it's not all Lonely, right? Could be Vast. Buried, maybe? What with the whole "you can never escape your work."

Also, it sounds... terrifying.

If I could convince one of his staff to willingly pledge themselves to the Lonely, it was all mine. He even let me pick the victim. He was so sure the prize of the Institute, the Panopticon, and a willing vessel to use it would be just too much for me to resist. And he was right. Just didn't go quite as I'd hoped.

What is it with these evil old men and using people as poker chips! Like, why!

ARCHIVIST And what was his prize? What did he get if you lost? PETER Oh, he got you.

Like, if making a bet where you win this freshly traumatised by the lonely guy isn't the worst thing that elias has done - and somehow it fucking isn't - then you know that like, very evil. and awful. like. kinda dehuminising don't you think? kinda fucked. what the fuck.

ARCHIVIST Tell me.

The way he says it is interesting. Just... flatly, not even a demand, just... "tell me."

I like it. I think it's neat.

PETER (Fighting) I’m… not saying… another… word. ARCHIVIST Tell me or I will rip it out of you! [Both statics keep increasing in volume] PETER No! ARCHIVIST (With all his power) ANSWER MY QUESTION! PETER NO!! LEAVE! ME! (Echoing) ALONE! ARCHIVIST TELL ME! [The statics crescendo; there is the sound of electric tearing and Peter screams as he is conceptually ripped apart]

HOT JON RIGHTS!!! YEAH!!!! WOOOH!!! KILL HIM!!!!

I THINK THAT PART IS VERY COOL! FUCK YEAH DUDE, RIP SOMEONE APART WITH YOUR EVIL POWERS!!

ARCHIVIST Listen, I know you think you want to be here. I know you think it’s safer, and… well maybe it is. But we need you. I need you.

MARTIN We – I need you.

(MAG 120.2)

HHHHH THEY KEEP REPEATING EACH OTEHRS WORDS AND MAKING ME WANT TO CRY!!!

ARCHIVIST Martin. Martin look at me. (compelling) Look at me and tell me what you see. [Hissing static starts] MARTIN I see… I see you, Jon. (Small disbelieving laugh from Martin) (Martin’s voice stops shifting side to side, and no longer echoes) MARTIN (CONT’D) I see you.

THIS- THIS IS IT! THIS IS THE MOMENT

chills, literal chills. fuckin' love it so much, you don't even know

im just gonna. im just gonna be here crying it such a good

[ID: Drawing of a person sitting at a computer, crying. /End ID]

ARCHIVIST Not anymore. Come on. Let’s go home. MARTIN How? ARCHIVIST Don’t worry. I know the way.

ITS SO SOFT ITS SO SOFT ITS SO FUCKING SOFT I LOVE THIS EPISODE I LOVE THE MAGNUS ARCHIVES "Don't worry. I know the way." ITS SO SOFT THE WAY HE SAYS IT IM GOING TO CRY IM GOING TO CURL UP INTO A LITTLE BALL AND CRY YOUR HONOUR THEYRE IN LOVE YOUR HONOUR THEIR LOVE GOT THEM OUT OF THE LONELY LOVE WINS YAY IM GONNA GO CRY NOW SLASH POS

this is over. im not crying but dear god is it close. look forward to tomorrow where i'll do more than ramble. i love jmart so much you guys i love them so much they love each other so much <3

#tma #the magnus archives #a mag a day #mag 159 #jmart #landscaping-your-mind-chapter-one #never gonna be okay ever again #this episode did something to my brain i feel #if you saw this posted before... no you didn't

10 notes · View notes

anysin · 9 months

Text

Fic: Stop At The Memory Lane

For anon requester, here is a dark S5 Jon Wins AU Jmart with jealousy theme! Warnings for past Tim/Martin and dubcon.

Stop At The Memory Lane

Tonight, Martin remembers Tim.

Tim with his easy smiles, until they faded away. Tim who always had a spark in his eyes, until that faded away too, leaving behind only deep, empty bitterness, and yet that was never enough to make him less handsome in Martin's eyes. Tim who would look at him with yearning whenever he thought Martin couldn't see, who kissed him once at an Institute Christmas party, with so much hunger and need that Martin got spooked and ran away. Tim apologized to him afterwards, and it never happened again.

Sometimes, Martin wonders what he let go.

"Who are you thinking of, Martin?"

With a secret shiver, Martin opens his eyes.

They are in what used to be the Panopticon, in a simple, makeshift bed made out of their clothes that they no longer need, never going outside. Jon is lying on top of him, his arms curled around Martin's waist, his cheek resting on Martin's chest, on the spot where his heart beats. His body is at ease, but his eyes, more than one pair, are on Martin, and there is a look in them that makes Martin's insides twist. Martin licks his lips, trying to hold his wits together.

"Just Tim," he says. "He was our friend, Jon. I miss him sometimes."

He hopes, hopes, hopes this will be it.

Jon says nothing, remaining where he is. Some of his eyes slide shut, and Martin makes the mistake of relaxing, even lifting up his hand and running it down along Jon's naked back.

"Do you wish you were with him rather than with me?"

Jon's arms loosen around him, and he starts to move. Martin, his heart beating faster, knows better than to resist when Jon wedges his hips between his legs, when he seeks out Martin's wrists and grips them tight, pinning them down. Playing along is not going to stop what's happening, but it won't hurt, either. Whatever reassures Jon is better.

"I only want to be with you," Martin whispers.

It has never been untrue. It has also never been enough.

"Keep your eyes on me, then," Jon says. "Don't think of anyone else."

Jon rolls his hips against Martin's, letting Martin feel his desire, his anger; sometimes, like now, they are one and the same thing. He stares at Martin relentlessly as he leans down to kiss him, not closing his eyes.

Martin shivers again, meeting Jon's hungry stare as he surrenders.

#my fic #the magnus archives #jon x martin #cw: dark

2 notes · View notes

cipherexists · 1 year

Text

mmm TMA jmart yes

Jon wouldn't be forgetting the look of fear and sadness on the kid's face and how that fear felt to consume for a while, is this really the same kind of thing that Martin had experienced? That utter understanding that no one loved you and the fear no one ever would?

Or A kid comes in and gives a statement that gives a look into how Martin felt during his run-in with the Lonely. Martin needs a hug.

ao3 link here

Jon settled at his desk, flicking a few papers around and putting them aside so he wouldn't fiddle with them while recording. Sat across from him was a tall and lean child. They couldn't have been more than 14 or 15 and were doing anything other than focusing on what was in front of them, choosing to pick at the skin of their fingertips and chipping their own nail polish.

The kid, Jayden as the eye supplied him, was here to give a statement on their interaction with the lonely. The phone call to set up the appointment mentioned something along the lines of everyone disappearing while they were at school. The idea that someone so young could have felt so isolated caused a slight hint of ‘uncomfortable’ for the Archivist but he pressed on starting the recording with a sigh.

“Statement of Jayden Hirst, regarding their school being suddenly empty in the middle of the day. Statement taken live from subject, date twenty-first of January twenty seventeen. Statement begins.”

Jayden looked uncomfortable for a moment, taking a deep breath and moving their hands to tap lightly against the table before starting

“It was just last week, I hadn't really been looking forward to school that day as I don't really have many friends to make it any fun but the friends I did have were pretty upset with me for some reason or another. It was around 12:30, the day had gone as normal but I needed a time out to calm down, the classroom gets pretty loud sometimes and the bathroom is much quieter and cooler. I put my hand up and asked my teacher if i could leave and she handed me a hall pass like normal and I left the room.

What wasn't normal was that the hallway was, foggy? As soon as the door shut behind me it went dead silent, so quiet I could hear the blood in my ears. Now I wanted quiet, yeah, but also the bathroom has some pretty good white noise from the fans and that is so much better than hearing your own blood pumping.

I kept going though, I'm not really sure why? The bathroom wasn't far but the fog was a bit too cold for comfort and there was a pretty large amount of panic building due to the eerie-ness of everything. The bathroom opened and it was even foggier than outside, it didn't roll out as I opened the door though, just stayed there like a wall. It felt better than the empty corridors and it was much more familiar anyway so I went in. The panic went away.

It was so calm in there? Maybe calm isn't the right word. It was just a void. All the panic from the classroom, from my friends being mad at me and from the fog it just all went away. I couldn't even see myself in the mirror. It was so dense there. Eventually, I kind of slid down the wall and sat on the floor revelling in it. I realised I didn't need my friends. They were just making me upset and not having them, well, I wouldn't be sad over them being mad at me if I never spoke to them in the first place. You know?

I stayed there for a while. In the fog. I don't know how long really but at some point, I started crying. Didn't even notice it, only did because the air was cold and the tears felt freezing on my face. Maybe it was a few hours but I realised I need to go back to class or home or somewhere other than the filthy bathroom floor.

No one else ever walked in, there was never any noise outside, and the hallway was still filled with this wet fog, maybe more than before. I headed back to my classroom and there was no one there. My seat was still warm but the room was filled with vapour that didn't move even as a breeze passed through.

As I was sitting, I went back to thinking about my friends, how much I loved them and how much they had helped me when we weren't fighting. But the fog grew thicker as I realised that maybe they never cared. And again when I realised that not even my family really cared. I didn't have anyone that would miss me or even hold me when I cried, they were lying to me and they hated me and I was never anything to them.”

Jon blinked owlishly as Jayden started to breathe heavier and heavier, their hands stopping their rhythmic tapping to pull at the strings of their hoodie and hug their body. If Jon paid enough attention he would see the same fog Jayden was describing start to roll off their shoulders and filter through the floorboards. But Jayden carried on through their statement, they had to, they were compelled.

“I felt alone then, the fog in the classroom, it was so thick. I couldn't even see my hands, the light. The light was starting to get darker and I couldn't- I couldn't breathe. It all felt so consuming and empty at the same time. But then my phone went off.

I forgot I even had it on me in the first place but I had received a message from an online friend. It was silly, something about them having fallen over outside their college and ruined their jeans but the shape of it was rather phallic. I don't know how that broke whatever was happening to me but it did. The fog rolled away and I was back in the bathroom, sitting on the floor in the end stall with my phone cradled in my hands.

It hadn't even been 5 minutes but I felt exhausted. I headed back to my class and slept the rest of the lesson. Everything was normal after that. I keep dreaming of those foggy hallways, I still haven't spoken to my friends, it feels wrong to do it.”

Jayden took a long breath at finishing their statement, they had tear marks staining their cheeks but the shaking had somewhat subsided and they fiddled with stickers on the back of their phone. Jon reached over and clicked the recorder off and slid it from the centre of the table.

“Well done, that’s all I need. You can stop by the reception and get a hot drink if you need the time to recover.” Jayden took a breath, making eye contact for the first time before muttering a ‘thank-you’ and sliding the chair back. Jon sat for a second letting the statement flit through his mind, the expression on this kid's face and the way that kid was so overwhelmed with fear. Jon didn't understand why it was getting to him so much, why the fear he saw scared him. Martin went through that. Martin felt like that. The same clouds of fog had enveloped someone he truly cared for and he wasn't there to help. He wasn't even a text away. As if thinking of him summoned him there was a faint knock on the archive door.

Jon startled and shouted a quick ‘come in’ to reveal Martin, holding two cups of tea one barely sloshing over the edge. “You look stressed, I saw that kid come in and knew you were in for a weird one so I came prepared. Tea?” It was a quiet invitation but something Jon appreciated endlessly, showing that with a slight nod and standing to meet Martin as he placed the mugs on the table. “Are you alright? Would you like to tal-” Martin was cut off by Jon slipping his hands around his waist and tucking his head into Martin's shoulder.

Martin smelt of old paper and wood polish, a little of whatever deodorant he put on that morning. His jumper was this dark green that was well worn and covered in little bobbles that made it softer than it would've been new. Most importantly however was how Martin wrapped his arms around Jon’s shoulders and pulled him ever further into his chest while placing his chin into Jon’s hair.

Martin let out a small hum before pressing a kiss to Jon’s head and patting his back. Sure some days he'd feel the questions about the man's feelings for him start to bubble up, but it was moments like this that kept the cold fog out of his head. Kept him warm and clear.

After a minute or two Jon let go and pulled a seat around next to his, patting it for Martin to sit next to him. They drank their teas silently, Jon’s knee pressed into Martin's thigh, small points of contact, anchoring both of them in the present.

#jmart fic #jmart #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #statement #i write this so hard i black out for just over an hour and came out with this

8 notes · View notes