#tma fic

[stealthetrees]

The most insane take on anything I’ve ever heard is that The Magnus Archives is a fan fiction Alice wrote about Chester and norris.

#tma #tmp #tmp alice #the magnus archives #the magnus protocol #the magnus pod #tma fic #it’s a coping mechanism ig

[gammija]

idly thinking about an AU where Jon and Martin do manage to land in the same world, in roughly the same location, but separated by time.

Lots of time.

Jon arrives in Britain, in 1988. Martin also arrives in Britain, also in the 80's - the 1780s. Maybe it's the Web putting the pieces in new starting positions, maybe it's just happenstance. Who can say.

The first thing Martin does is look for Jon, of course. Unfortunately, he realizes pretty quickly that, if Jon is here, he's not anywhere near him. But Martin's not giving up that easily. If he's going to find him, he needs resources. So, with a knack for lying to wealthy old men, and using a minimal amount of historical knowledge, he makes a modest name for himself. Hopefully enough so that Jon will be able to find him, when he looks for him -

Because Martin hasn't been able to find a trace of him yet. Not as a real person in the world, and not as a reference in any old texts or stories about odd appearances of men with alien clothes, lots of scars, or piercing eyes.

A few years pass, without Martin finding any sign of Jon. Slowly, he has to come to terms with a few facts:

Firstly, that the Fears are definitely also in this world. In his search for Jon, he's come across far too many accounts that sound eerily familiar. Though they seem to have popped up in the world around the same time he did; He doesn't have any earlier records that consistently line up with the patterns he's familiar with. Which most likely means that they - he - are responsible for their existence in this world... Martin tries not to think about it.

Secondly, thankfully, this must mean that Jon didn't arrive centuries before he did, living and dying without anyone taking notice, which Martin had gotten more and more worried about. He wouldn't have arrived without the Fears being there too. No, if Jon is going to appear in this world, (and Martin is not going to think about the alternatives), he'll arrive in his future.

Maybe so far into the future that Martin won't even live to see him. In which case, however much he'd like to avoid thinking about it, Martin has to create something here and now. Something that will last beyond his lifetime. Something Jon will be able to find as soon as he looks for Martin, so at least Jon won't have to wonder what happened to him, will know that he did not arrive completely alone, that Martin did not abandon him.

Thirdly... through his search for Jon, Martin has amassed quite a little collection of esoteric and weird stories. And, though he did it 200 years in the future, he does have some experience running an organization that ostensibly researches the supernatural, which would also be a good way to keep track of any potential new Jon leads. He thinks of naming it after Jon, of course, but it's not like Jon is going to look for his own name first, is he? And it'd raise more questions than if he named it after himself.

Cue the bittersweet ending where Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in the middle of London, asks for someone named Martin Blackwood, and finds Blackwood Organization, a public collection of ghost stories dating back to the 1800. He is given a set of personal letters from the founder, to be hand delivered only to a man called Jonathan Sims as soon as he would walk in the door.

...Or -

After yet another few years, in which Martin has set up his organization and is part of a decent network of people with similar interests (though he dislikes most of them), he bumps into someone. Jonah Magnus. It's an incredibly odd experience, though in hindsight, it was bound to happen, considering the information he's after. Martin has the urge to kill him right there, but the man doesn't seem to be from the future. He's just a creepy guy. Younger than Martin, too, which is also weird. But he manages to shake it off, and doesn't see him again.

Though he does keep tabs on him. Seeing him has set Martin thinking. He's been getting older, and his modern constitution isn't faring great in Georgian times. The organization is doing okay, but he's not sure yet if it's really going to survive after he's, well, gone, which would defeat the whole point. With a few more years, could he make it stronger? Could he maybe even reunite with Jon in person?

Furthermore, with the Fears being now well established, it's only a matter of time before someone tries a ritual. No, Martin isn't going to try and do one first, that'd be really stupid, not to mention evil. He just has to make sure that the world actually survives for Jon to appear in it.

A plan begins to form. One he really doesn't like. But one that, the more he considers it, is very possible. He's quite sure now the Fears mostly operate on vibes. Sure, he's maybe not a full avatar, but through letting the public read stories about the fears, hasn't he kind of spread awful knowledge? Hasn't he seen a lot of terrible things in turn? The Eye was already fond of him, according to Jon.

And even if it were to go wrong... Martin would die in either case, and the only other person suffering would be Jonah. He can't find it in himself to feel too awful about that.

Jon falls out of the sky on a sunny day in 1986. After a short and panicked search, he walks through the doors of the Blackwood Organization, Hilltop Lane 148, Oxford. The receptionist greets him. She seems somewhat shocked as she does so, tells him to take a seat as she makes a call. He doesn't know what else to do, so he sits. The chairs are surprisingly comfortable.

A few minutes later, someone he doesn't at all recognize enters the foyer. He looks at Jon, stops, freezes. Jon stills as well.

The man is unfamiliar in every way. He's short, for one, his skin a darker complexion, hair curling in a way his never did. But those eyes, as soon as he sees them, he recognizes. Those are the eyes of the man he trusted to kill him.

#is this anything? i dont know! #where does it to from there? also don't know #i just like the set up #tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #gammijart #i guess #tma fic #ish #fanfic #gonna count it #if nothing else at least so i can find it again #tma finale #somewhere else #tma s5 #mag200 #inspired by totk of all things #the tragedy of time travel etc #magnuspod #Magnus Archives #btw if anyone wants to take this idea and run with it or alter it or anything: be my guest #its a fun one to think about because the eye swapping is i think juuust on the edge of what a Martin might reasonably do in character #with s5 clearly establishing that he (thinks he) would rather die than survive on innocent people suffering #but also - if he can tell himself a convincing story where what he's doing is necessary. and the only people suffering are 'bad' #or too far removed from him to be his responsibility - then he'll do what he 'has to' #in jonahs case even enjoy a bit of revenge

[late-to-the-magnus-archives]

You ever get an AO3 comment and think, "Oh, yeah. I have clearly done my job today"

#oh yeah #I have clearly done my job today #tma #tma funny #tma meme #tma fic #jmart #jonmartin #teaholding #tma au #tma spoilers #somewhere else #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

[jonahfagnus]

Every few centuries or so, each Dread Power selects a Messiah. Not at the same time - they’re often staggered over decades, and a Messiah will frustratingly frequently die of mundane causes long before anyone notices them. Worse yet, Messiahs can go their entire life unnoticed, odd enough to off-put their peers but not enough for their kin to take notice.

To find the Messiah of one’s god is a grand achievement. Finding Agnes Montague had brought the Lightless Flame great power; new strength, new devotees, new rituals. It had been so much that Gertrude had felt the need to temper Agnes with her own soul. The Desolation won’t get over that for a very long while.

Jonah has spent his entire life seeking the Eye’s Messiah. It has to be soon - it’s been two centuries, and he’s certain that there was no Messiah when he was alive. The timeframe is perfect, and yet he cannot find anyone. He checks for incidents related to the Eye, keeps note of artefacts trading hands, but nothing. Whether his god’s Messiah simply died as a child, or was swallowed by another power, the search is endless, and yields no results.

This is why it’s so surprising when Jonathan Sims walks into his office for an interview, and makes eye contact with him - ordinarily this would make people uncomfortable, but Jonathan is mostly content in the Eye’s stronghold. Jonah knows, immediately, that this is the one. This is who he has been searching for his whole life.

Jonathan’s Gaze is rather weak, and wielded bluntly. He wouldn’t be able to force any measure of knowledge out of Jonah right now, but it’s surprising he has any Gaze at all. Just more proof that he was made for their god. 

Jonathan has found that people become uncomfortable when he makes eye contact with them, and that discomfort can be used to get things he wants; he’s used it to convince teachers to give him better grades or an extension on his work, to convince his peers to leave him be, to convince well-meaning adults to turn a blind eye to his breaking and entering, his trespassing, all the little crimes to satisfy his endless curiosity. There’s no need to intimidate now, of course. The moment he decided to come in for the interview his fate was sealed. He is meant to be here, and always has been.

Jonah reaches a hand over the table and does not break eye contact.

“Elias Bouchard,” he says, voice confident and smooth. On the inside, he’s a bundle of nerves. If he isn’t careful, he could drive Jonathan away from the Eye, perhaps forever. Such a failure would not be forgiven.

“Jon Sims,” Jon returns, seeming equally calm. Jonah’s still debating whether or not to look inside his head. It would be exceedingly useful, but if Jon notices it could be disastrous. He has no idea how Jon would react. The Lonely almost drove away their most recent Messiah by trying to bring him in too quickly, and Jonah cannot afford the same to happen with Jon. There is the chance Jon would notice, and realise that Jonah is like him, and decide to stay. Too risky, perhaps.

Jonah doesn’t pay much attention as they go through the typical rigamarole. None of these questions are necessary. Instead, he does his own research on Jon, the sort that doesn’t require reading his mind.

He Knows that all of Jon’s peers had warned him away from the Institute when he had brought it up, and that Jon had lied to his flatmate about the interview. He has no other job prospects lined up, and still can’t justify the decision to himself. It simply feels right. He Knows that, despite his machinations, Jon’s grades are less than perfect. Like much else in his life, Jon is worried about it, partially because he is innately anxious and partially because he’s worried that he won’t get the job.

He Knows that Jon (much like Jonah in his youth) prefers to find what isn’t already known. He finds education too boring, too easy - he can find what his teachers have told him in textbooks, or online courses; quite often he finds he already knows it, although he can't say from where. What he wants is the sort of knowledge that is coveted, hidden, and he has a particular taste for any knowledge of the supernatural. 

He Knows that Jon has uncanny senses - having been able to detect teachers long before their footsteps began echoing down the halls - and some of his peers used him as a watchman when getting high or drunk, or breaking into offices to find answer sheets. He Knows that Jon enjoyed being the watchman, for reasons he can’t quite place.

Their god's influence has already spread deep into Jon, into the furthest reaches of his soul. Jon has the ability to compel (although this, like his Sight, is weak and wielded bluntly - Jonah will have to teach him better), and he craves knowledge like he craves blood in his veins. His memory is uncanny, his eyes uncannier. He couldn’t be a better Archivist.

“When can you start?”

Jon blinks, in surprise.

“Oh- er, well, I- ah, next Monday, I suppose?”

“Fantastic,” Jonah says, giving him a grin. They shake hands again, and then Jon is leaving. Jonah Watches him, all the way home, to where he tells his flatmate that he got the job, where he begins to make preparations to move out. Jon casts glances over his shoulder when he thinks nobody can see him, although he can’t tell from where he’s being watched. Yet, despite the anxiety (and excitement) it causes, he makes no move to hide himself. 

He’s going to be perfect. Jonah will ensure it.

#👁️ | my writing #jonelias #elias bouchard #jonah magnus #jonathan sims #tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #god i hate tagging #👁️ | messiah!jon #tma elias #elias tma #tma jon #jon tma #jon sims #jon/elias #jon x elias #??? #jon archivist #jonahbas #the archivist #jarchivist #the magnus archives #ok thats enough tags

[crit20art]

jonmartin vampire au!!

Summary: Struggling for income, Martin registers with an app that connects vampires with willing blood donors. His first client is not at all what he expected.

Rating: T (graphic violence warning)

Word count: 124k COMPLETE!!!

Tags: vampires & vampire bites, canon tma vampires, getting together, mutual pining, body horror, non-sexual intimacy, power dynamics, fluff/angst, hurt/comfort, trans martin, sex-averse jon, slow burn, non-sexual kink, humor

#trying to do something fun and funky while i fight burnout on diaa. sjfhskj #tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #jonmartin fic #jmart #jmart fic #vampires #vampire au #the magnus archives fic

[cult-of-the-eye]

the most insane fic idea came to me hear me out, it's the 19th century, jon is at oxford and he is living life as normally as he can get, only occasionally getting splitting headaches and visions of other people's trauma. he gets kidnapped by a strange man who preaches about apocalypses, chosen ones and eyes. oh and he also might be in love with him. cue the most toxic, one-sided jonelias to ever have been seen

#i could literally imagine it #like jon behind bars #in some dingy prison cell #elias is some fancy scholar #elias comes down every day to ask jon if he's feeling better #jon spits at him #etc etc #i want this fic to be injected into my veins oh my god #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #elias bouchard #jonelias #jonah magnus #tma au #tma fic #fic ideas

[astridianmayfly]

us TMA fic writers have made a GRAVE MISTAKE. 

How could we possibly forget season 1 is set in the year of our lord 2016????

Tim sprints out of the archives because a Snorlax spawns nearby (Jon doesn’t know what a Pokemon is.) Martin has a musical.ly, Tim has vine (the two of them make dubsmashes when they’re dicking off). There is an eraser shrine dedicated to Harambe in the archive break room. Tim got Sasha addicted to Geometry Dash. Lemonade is constantly playing. Jon grandpa-bitches about how annoying Closer (Chainsmokers) is. Tim’s entire laptop is covered in Pepe stickers. Sasha goes a 30 minute rant about Instagram’s changed their app logo. They all play Agar.io on their lunch break. Tim and Sasha rope Martin in to serenading Jon through an ominous chanting of ‘Alexander Hamilton.’ They  have a collective aneurysm when Jon starts singing along. Tim T-poses everywhere. Martin dresses like Arthur (clenched fist version) for Halloween. Tim says “here comes dat boii!!!” every time he sees a worm. They teach Jon to hit the quan in a moment of weakness. The archives team does the mannequin challenge (ILL KISS ANYONE WHO DRAWS THIS HOLY FUCK). Brexit is happening

#tma #the magnus archives #tma spoilers #this is so funny to me #how have we never realized this #jmart #jonmartin #jarchivist #tim stoker #tim is the star of this post #tma season 1 #tma fic #disclaimer this is based on my thirteen year old experience of 2016 if that wasn't ABUNDANTLY clear #however this makes me laugh so suspension of disbelief here please #tim is a disney adult or something #ok? #martin has a fuckton of childhood trauma so probably would participate in things that he really couldn't enjoy under his mother's roof #as an adult

[thecatinthepurplepants]

okay I'm working on a malevolent/tma crossover fic rn (no I don't have a real plot with a beginning, middle, or end planned yes its mostly just vibes so far shush) where Jartin and Jarthur bump into each other and obviously I wanna have Jon able to see and hear John because he has Special Eyes and I just had the funniest fucking thought

Jon hears John talking to Arthur probably describing things around them to him and at some point he HAS to ask

Jon: um, Arthur, quick question, why is the entity currently taking up residence in your brain, eyes, and certain portions of your left extremities Canadian?

Arthur, genuinely confused: I'm sorry, fucking what???

John: what the fuck is a Canadian?

Arthur: one second John, I'll explain later- what do you MEAN he's Canadian, where did you get that idea from???

Jon: Arthur he has a Canadian accent. Like, a noticeable Canadian accent. He pronounces "about" as "aboot" pretty consistently.

Arthur, realization dawning on his face: ... oh my god.

Jon: I've literally heard him slip up and pronounce your name as "Orthur" when he gets panicked

John: Orthur what the fuck is he talking aboot!?

Arthur, doesn't know whether to laugh or cry: oh my god

#tma #the magnus archives #tma podcast #malevolent #malevolent podcast #jonathan sims #arthur lester #john doe #john malevolent #malevolent fic #tma fic #tma shitpost #malevolent shitpost #tma/malevolent crossover #fic wip #plot bunny

[torimouto]

Beholding, in all of its infinite, non-existent, mercy, saw no need to warn Jon before the second bullet ripped a hole in his lung.

I love the TMA fic Right By Them by @esperosisdoeswriting and I'm also obsessed with the entire trip to India chapter, and especially this scene lives in my head rent free

#tma #tma fic #jonathan sims #the magnus archives #tma fanart #eyestrain #esperosisdoeswriting #tori arts

[mintyeggs]

the only way my handwriting is legible is if i write in all caps so im giving jon a pass on this one

Read A Fresh Pair of Eyes (Formerly Pin-Eye) Chapter 12 here!

#the magnus archives #tma #tmag #sasha james #martin blackwood #tma sasha #tma martin #tma fic #tma fanfic #tma fanart #the magnus archives fanart #the magnus archives fanfic #minty plays with crayons

[trans-jon-rights]

Heeeeey how about some Monster Jon from my fic ?

#max draws tma #tma #the magnus archives #tales of a scrambled future #fic #tma fic #jon sims #monster jon

[saintbleeding]

Hii~

So i saw this on a tumblr post but is very jonmartin

"Jon and Martin are planning their wedding, they want to have their cat as ring bearer (is this how it's called?) But Martin doesn't know the name of the cat because they always call it different nicknames and jon just doesn't tell him and he don't want to admit that after all that years don't know.

Because jon didn't know either! he thinks that the cat is Martin's and he also is trying to figure out the name."

Martin’s not a cat person.

Honestly, he’s just not really an animal person. Like, in general.

The same isn’t true for Jon, of course. On, like, their second date, Jon—who, up until that point, had been all leather elbow patches on his stupid tweed jackets and “hmm, perhaps” and thoughtful squinting—got approached by a cat in the street, and pretty much melted on the spot.

Martin melted, too, but for slightly different reasons.

So it wasn't really a surprise when Jon moved in and Cat started turning up. Sure, it felt a little bit out of character for Jon not to excitedly announce that, one, he'd gotten a pet cat really recently, and, two, he was bringing it into Martin's place, which is a relatively humble little cottage, but Cat seems to free-roam most of the time, so it's not like she's encroaching on much of the space. And, anyway, it's not like Martin hates cats, so he doesn't mind. He just sort of thought Jon would have said something. But he didn't.

So.

You know.

There's a cat.

She's grown on Martin over time. In fact, it's usually him that wakes up with her purring and headbutting him at fuck-off o'clock in the morning, and Jon's not a heavy sleeper, so if she'd attacked him first, Martin would know.

But she's nice. Lovely little tufts of fur between her toes, and quite a deep meow for such a pretty lady. He'll call her Lady Catherine sometimes, and Jon's got the gall to pretend he doesn't think it's hilarious. Mind you, Jon's terms of endearment for her skew a bit more—pejorative, for lack of a better term? Like, Cat will take the opportunity when Jon is hunched over a stack of student essays at the dining table, and she'll leap onto his shoulders, and do that loaf thing, and Jon always says "unhand me, you infernal creature", or the few times she has bothered Jon in the middle of the night for pre-dawn breakfast service, he's grumbled "vile beast" even as he gets up to feed her.

Martin's tried telling him he shouldn't be encouraging her. But Jon just turns around and says "yes, I know, that's why I chastise her".

Martin stays impressed that someone so smart can be so stupid. Which he means affectionately, obviously. If he didn't, they wouldn't be getting married.

Which is great, by the way. It's great.

Does present some—unique problems, though.

Martin's got absolutely no bloody clue what her actual name is.

Which, you know, it's not like he's filling out adoption papers or anything, but at some point after some late-night banter it became part of the plan that Cat should be the ring-bearer at the wedding.

And he can't not know the name of a member of the party at his own wedding.

So he starts sleuthing.

"Hey," he says one evening, when GBBO is over and they're just sitting there with the telly on mute.

Jon looks up from his thorough inspection of Cat's beans, her paw gently clasped between his thumb and forefinger, and goes "Mm?"

"Been thinking."

Jon lifts one eyebrow. "Mm?"

"We could get her a proper little collar and everything."

Jon blinks a couple of times, then smiles. "Oh, for the wedding, you mean?" Martin nods. "Oh, yes, it could match your tie."

Okay, that's adorable, but also, unfortunately, not the point.

"Ooh, yeah," he says, then: "Oh! And, like, a little engraved name-tag. Really fancy."

Jon's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," he says, tone completely unreadable. "Silver or gold, do you think?"

Martin's suddenly wondering if it's a trap.

"Dunno," he says, turning his eyes back to the brightly-coloured advert on the screen. "What's her vibe, you think?"

In the corner of his eye he sees Jon's jaw working silently as he searches for something to say.

"I think your input should be taken into consideration," he says, lifting his chin as Cat stands, stretches, and headbutts him. "Since... you know."

Martin considers whether or not Jon's messing with him, because frankly, he very much does not know.

"Mmm. Well! Uh- I- I like gold. Would match our bands."

"True enough," Jon says. Cat leaps onto the back of the sofa, and they're both silent till she curls up there and falls back asleep.

Jon doesn't seem very eager to say anything else.

Bugger.

"So..." Martin says, lifting his glasses to rub his eyes. "Um... what's the spelling, again?"

Jon's blurry form sits up straighter, and when Martin puts his glasses back on he sees his mouth open in shock.

"Might I ask why you're asking me?" Jon says, which doesn't make any sense.

"W- um. Y- you know, you're the English teacher."

Jon inclines his head to the side, frowning. "Hmm," he goes. "W- I- I- yes, I—mm." He lowers himself back against the sofa again. "The usual way."

Martin sighs.

"Right," he says. "Okay."

The silence gets a bit fraught, then. When Martin stands up to take their mugs to the kitchen, he might be a tiny bit huffy. It's possible.

Jon follows him, and he stays huffy, because it's easier to keep up than neutrality when he's trying to hide that he's a bit annoyed and a bit embarrassed.

"Everything alright?" Jon says, leaning casually against the fridge as Martin puts way too much effort into scrubbing both mugs clean.

"Mm."

Several seconds pass.

"Could I say something?" Jon asks, a bit hesitantly.

If Martin had to guess, he'd put money on "you're a negligent idiot for not paying enough attention to know my cat's name and I hate you".

"Yeah."

Jon exhales audibly behind him, as though amused.

"With all due respect and affection, darling—" He pauses till Martin is finished aggressively rinsing the mugs. Martin still doesn't turn to face him, though, because he's a tiny bit scared of where this is going, honestly. "If you've forgotten how to spell your own cat's name, that's not, strictly speaking, my fault, is it?"

Martin turns around.

Several things occur to him at once.

First, Cat's a dirty freeloader who owes Martin like fourteen months of rent.

Second, it might, legitimately, have been a coincidence that she and Jon moved in around the same time.

Third, he can't remember a time he's heard Jon use any method of address on her except for creature, or beast, or the ones Martin uses himself.

Which means, fourth, Jon doesn't know her bloody name either.

Because she's not his cat.

Well.

"Okay," Martin says. "Let's assume I have forgotten. Couldn't you just—help me out—and spell it?"

"Martin," Jon says disparagingly with a frown.

"Jon," Martin says, trying really hard not to smirk.

Jon does that thing where his mouth starts in a flat line, but as his irritation grows, his nose scrunches up, and the line of his mouth slowly rises up his face until he exclaims inarticulately and throws his hands in the air in defeat.

"Fine!" he says. "Fine, okay, alright, fine. I—I don't—I don't know. I don't know! I meant to ask, but I felt negligent not having known when I moved in, and then, after a month or seven I couldn't very well come out and ask, could I? And then—good heavens, it's been more than a year, there was no subtle way to recover!"

Martin's not laughing at him.

But he is laughing.

Breathlessly, uncontrollably, doubling over—to the point where Jon actually crosses the few steps separating them in the tiny kitchen to place a hand on his shoulder, gently guiding him upright with a concerned look on his face.

"Sorry," Martin manages eventually, wiping tears from his eyes. "Christ, sorry, I'm just—"

He takes a deep, measured breath.

"I've got to tell you something," he says sheepishly. Jon puts his hands on Martin's shoulders and looks into his face with the earnest sobriety that, even now, gives Martin butterflies.

"Anything," he says, still frowning intensely.

Martin averts his eyes. "She's not my cat either."

When Jon stops laughing, he spends the rest of the evening lecturing Cat in his Not Mad Just Disappointed voice ("identity fraud is an extremely serious matter, young lady, and you are terribly lucky you have such sweet little eyes, or I might be compelled to take legal action against you, please let go of my nose").

Oh, but they do end up getting her an engraved gold name-tag for the ceremony.

It says 'Lady Catherine (Beast)'.

#YEAH ILL MAINTAG THIS IG #the magnus archives #tma #tma fic #jmart #jonmartin #my #saint writes #asks #little-lamb-lyosha #bestie u were so correct for this. thank u. <3 #(this is set in some kind of au. idk the specifics. u figure it out.)

[milkteamoon]

Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Tags: @jonmartinweek day 6

And he could leave it here. He could. He could smoke his cigarette in silence until he went back inside and returned to the whole mess of files he’d been attempting to organize spread across his office floor, and Martin wouldn’t push it. That’s something he likes about Martin. That’s a reason why he thinks he and Martin get along easier than a lot of other people he knows. Jon clears his throat. “Do you ever— do people ever make assumptions about you based on some very limited piece of information, and they’re not exactly wrong but they’re also not not wrong, but you can’t correct them because you aren’t even supposed to know about this information in the first place?”

If anyone asks, Jon doesn't smoke.

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartinweek 2024 #jmartweek24aceday #my writing #tma fic

[gammija]

Holiday doodle fanart of the most recent chapter of @formiana 's fic, Revolving Doors!

Martin's been really going through it. 'it' being hundreds of iterations of the same November 19th. but he's fine now. Pay no attention to the spiders

#martin #tma #tma s? #the Magnus Archives #martin blackwood #martin k blackwood #tma martin #web!martin #tma fic #ish #gammijart #i think i made his head a fraction too small but that's the charm of traditional art #spider #spiders #magnuspod #spiral!martin #pay no attention to that tag either

[blasphemous-lies-and-deceit]

sneaking away to a hidden corner to share a secretive kiss

"This is such bullshit."

"I know," Michael answered, his pleasant smile never budging. Gerry shifted restlessly at his side, glad that he had Michael's arm tucked in his. Otherwise he would have hauled ass hours ago.

It was fine that the person he loved the most in the world was tied to the Archives and the Eye, and he himself was deep in debt to an evil old bitch and thus also roped into the whole mess. He had accepted all of that. The day to day was decent, especially once he and Michael left at the end of the day to spend the night together, which he could easily call the greatest moments of his life. He could handle the field work involving dangerous books or people- he could handle himself, and had a reason to make it back safely. Even the occasional Institute drama that made its way into the Archives, he could deal with it.

But he could not stand being forced into a suit to stand around and please the Institute investors at some stupid fundraiser dinner.

There were so many people in fancy suits and dresses, crowded into the ritzy hotel ballroom Elias had rented for the evening. It was hot, and crowded, and Gerry could feel judging eyes on him, like he was holding a flashing sign saying "I Don't Belong Here". His shoes hurt his feet and his jacket was too tight in the shoulders and the food still hadn't been served. The night was dragging in the worst way, and he hated all of it.

The only relief he had was Michael, somehow looking perfectly at ease in the uncomfortable situation. And gorgeous. Simply gorgeous. Unlike Gerry, he fit so well into his dark blue suit, eyes bright and sparkling, hair pulled back so his curls spilled down his back. Gerry wanted to plaster himself to him, press him up against a wall and ravish him, take that sweet bland smile off his face and replace it with wide-eyed pleasure. And the knowledge that he couldn't, not for several hours, was unbearable.

"Ah, here he is." Gerry tensed when Elias pushed through the crowd, approaching them with a horribly delighted smile. A small stuffy-looking man followed him. "Gerard, it's my pleasure to introduce you to a former associate of your mother."

'Fuck you,' Gerry thought as hard and viciously as he could, and caught a slight wince from the Head of the Institute. It seemed that Gertrude's suspicions about her boss were correct, but he didn't have time to think about that. The other man, who's name he didn't bother to catch, was stepping forward with his hand outstretched, and he reluctantly took it, woodenly smiling at his enthusiasm.

"I'm so glad to make your acquaintance," he gushed, hand clammy as he vigorously shook Gerry's. "Your mother's passing left such a hole in the rare book collecting community. Elias tells me you've inherited her stock. Will you be continuing her work?"

"Not...really?" Gerry mumbled, feeling horribly awkward and deeply uncomfortable by the mention of his mum. He knew just from the way Elias was smiling that he'd done this on purpose, setting up this situation just to watch him squirm. Fucking bastard. "Not really interested in collecting them, exactly."

"We've actually discussed liquidating Mary's collection," Michael spoke up smoothly, tugging Gerry closer to his side and out of the grasp of Mary's enthusiastic former client. "If that's something you're interested in, we can certainly discuss the sale at another time."

God fucking bless Michael, Gerry thought in relief, slumping against his side. He was taking control of the conversation, saving Gerry's ass with his confidence, and that was so unspeakably reassuring.

"Oh." The stranger's face fell dramatically. "That's such a shame, Mary worked so hard to compile all those books."

"I'm sure they will be far better off in the hands of someone else," Michael said placatingly with a surreptitious squeeze to Gerry's arm. "Someone who is more suited to care for them than we are."

"Well, in that case..." A nearly lustful look slid onto their conversation partner's face, sending a chill down Gerry's spine. "I'd be more than happy to-"

"Um, Elias?" Rosie appeared at Elias' elbow, distracting him from their conversation he'd been watching like an engrossing tv show. "Gertrude has Peter Lukas cornered again, I think you should intervene."

"Oh, damn," Elias sighed as he turned away to focus on the problem. Gerry felt a hard yank on his arm, and let himself be pulled back by Michael, who dragged him away from the conversation before anyone could notice. Michael towed him to a corner next to the window, where the long curtains shielded them from the rest of the room.

"Come here," Michael whispered urgently, pulling Gerry close and cupping his face. Gerry eagerly shifted up onto his toes to accept his kiss, full of warmth and comfort. "Are you okay?"

"I am," Gerry assured him, sighing against his lips. "I am. Because of you. Thank you for dealing with that asshole, I never know what to say to guys like that."

Michael sighed as well, his breath gusting across Gerry's face as he touched their foreheads together. "I wasn't sure...I know we talked about it, about what to do with your mom's stuff, but-"

"You were perfect," Gerry assured him, stepping closer to wrap his arms around his middle. "I don't want it to go to him-"

"Absolutely not," Michael agreed with a smile, tucking Gerry close in their private little corner. "We're a good team, aren't we?"

"The greatest." Gerry buried his face in Michael's chest, rubbing his cheek against his smooth tie. All of his nerves had melted away, leaving him happy and warm in Michael's embrace. "I think I'll keep you right here for the rest of the night."

Michael laughed. "But we'd miss Gertrude tormenting Elias and Peter Lukas," he protested, even as he leaned down to kiss Gerry again. "She might need us as backup."

"She's fine," Gerry dismissed immediately, sinking his fingers into Michael's hair and pulling him into a deep and very-wanted kiss. He could keep Michael there for the rest of the night, just the two of them, their own private oasis all to themselves, to kiss and bask in each other's presence. That was all that he wanted, and he would take it for as long as he could.

#gerrymichael #the magnus archives #tma fic #gerry keay #michael shelley #doorkeay #rebelwriting

[cult-of-the-eye]

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

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #tma headcanons #tma fic #character analysis #character study #jonblogging #tma jonathan sims