Tma Fic - Blog Posts
Chapters: 2/7 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Martin Blackwood, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Angela (The Magnus Archives), Extremely Minor OC Additional Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Mutilation, Dehumanization, Objectification, Tooth Trauma, Human Captivity, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Vomiting, Malnutrition, Hurt Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Caretaking, Starvation, Torture, Whump, Not Beta Read, Not Britpicked, Alternate Universe - Urban Fantasy, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Whump, queerplatonic jonmartin, Sick Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Touch-Averse Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Touch-Starved Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Trans Martin Blackwood, but blink and you’ll miss it, alternating pov, Attempted self harm, Bathing / Washing, Blood, Graphic depictions of violence - Freeform, Injury, not exactly disabled character but strongly disability coded, wound care Summary:
I'm writing gratuitous whump because I wanted "The Magic Shop" by WhyNotFly to contain more content. Read their fic for this to make sense.
The Archivist is a millennia-old magic being who is also having a bad time. Martin is a 22-year-old office worker who is doing his best.
Once upon the misty moors...
... there lived a lonely young man, living simply with his mother as many did in a small house in a village on the domain of their lord in Greymoor.
Not much can be said of those early years, not much this young man would have wanted to repeat that bore mentioning at least. All that can be said was that one day his mother fell ill, and with the rumoured sightings of a strange woman in a red skirt, face hidden by a cloak and smelling of death, bringing with her to his door nothing more than rake whilst he was away...they should have known there was nothing that could be done.
But that certainly didn't stop him from trying though. Working hard and long each day on their farm and on the properties surrounding it. Selling their only cow, their chickens and what little of value they could spare to afford the herbs that could ease her pain, only to return to scorn and stubborness in her delirium with a soft smile on his face as he tended to her, nevertheless.
All the same it didn't change her fate. Nor the fate of the lonely young man, now adrift and lost without much in the way of direction.
Untill at least, he was approached one misty afternoon by their Local Lord of Greymoor, who spoke to him with hollow geniality, and offered him a job as a servant in his castle.
And so, with nothing in the way of excuse to prevent him from doing so, he accepted. And soon, Martin Blackwood found himself selling what was little was left of his mother's small slice of domesticity in Greymoor, and like so many others was whisked away to live and work at the feet of their lord. Bouncing between fetching food from the kitchens or fixing pots of tea; setting kindling alight to warm cold rooms that made your breath fog up if left to themselves too long; keeping clean what he could when he was ordered and keeping his head down whenever he could.
All the same he found something of a friend in that castle more than once, and had to himself the gift of an extra hour each day to sneak away and write poetry on a little rock in the shade of a willow tree by the loch. One of the few things he could say was truly his.
Of course even setting aside the whispered legends of the figure of pestilance that had taken his mother, Greymoor, just like the other lands just on the other side of the Deep Wood, was no stranger to monsters of its own. So much so that despite the dissmissals and denials of their Lordship for as long as anyone can remember, there have always been the mists.
Not much is known, as with any of the beings that creep along the shadows of rumors and heresay and children torn from their beds before they can so much as scream. What can be said, was that at least once a year, maybe more than once, should someone be caught out too late at the wrong time, they would find themselves lost to the mists. Alone and forever wandering between a state of life and death to wither away as nothing more than ghosts on that very same moorland from which they dissapeared.
And so it was, that after a time of keeping his head down and doing what he was told, Martin would one night find himself staying out a little too late by the loch into nightfall; and in doing so soon found himself running into one of his fellow servants, a woman named Naomi Herne; who'd go on to explain, had been sent on orders from Lukas to pick berries under the cover of moonlight from the nearby woods (having found his supplies empty of such fruits despite the supply run they'd made just earlier that day).
Of course, finding the request rather unreasonable given the dangers of ventering out too late into the night by one's self, he offered to help her in her task, and not too long after, the two ran afoul of the mists, and knowing the legends, and hearing the whispers on the gentle wind that only one of their number need be lost, handed the only stubborn flame that hadn't gone dark to Naomi, and told her to run back to the Lord's castle.
Naomi, despite her hesistance to leave her only companion in the misty darkness, complied, and ran back with their only light to the Castle in a panic and raised all the nearby servants she could from their posts to come and help him. Immediately, despite the fear, a few rose to help her. Some stepping in to calm her down and ascertain what had happened, a few of the others grabbing their coats and lighting lanterns to aid in the search, despite their fears and the insistence of a few that there was nothing that could be done. But not a foot had breached the doorway when their Lord and employer Lukas stepped into the room and forbade them from going. Demanding they stay and not risk themselves catching a cold or getting lost in the dark. Ordering them wait and do nothing more than pray that by morning Martin found his way back to them on his own time.
No one beleived he would of course. The mists were like that you see. Those who wandered too far would never return to them, they never had.
And then, three days later, Martin returned to them.
Stumbling up the grassy hill just as the sun was setting. Freezing cold to the touch; dispondant and pale, with hair turned a snow white and breath misting even in warmer in air. Changed, or so it seemed, by his time alone in those mists.
The others were astounded of course. The head of them sending some of them off to fetch warm cloths and furs to warm him whilst they let him sit by the fire of the servants quarters. Asking him what happened despite his barely there eyes and the and the shaking hands cupping a hastily made mug of tea.
All the same it didn't take long for the news to find it's way to Lord Lukas, who at once demanded Martin's presence in his study despite the soft protests of those who could tell he was not well.
All the same Martin stood without a word from his place, still hardly warmed from his time by the fire, to meet with him.
"I saw you in the mists," he said once they were alone, "You told me I would forever be alone,"
And then he asked, simply, though by no mean masking the anger in now cold blue eyes, "You sent her out on purpose didn't you? You knew the mists were out that night."
Not a moment later, in a sea of fog that swept through the room and drained the life and colour from its walls, and the Lord Lukas was alone. Martin nowhere to be seen when he opened the door and stepped out, refusing to answer anyone's questions when they inquired on his health.
This time, it takes two days for Martin to return, and when he does Lukas gives them all new orders.
Namely that Martin Blackwood, not be allowed to return to the Grey Moors, lest it be with the head of the Watcher Beast, residing so they said, in ancient ruins found in the deep woods by the borders of land Panopticon.
He's given a day to prepare his leave.
And so it was, with nothing more than a single short sword, a map and some rations put together by those that asked after him, Martin was sent away without so much as the chance for a goodbye.
Martin himself, under no illusions that their Lord of Greymoor, had sent him there to die.
"Let them try," he'd whisper to himself as the foggy outline of a cold stone castle faded away by the rhythm and rumble of a horse pulled cart. "Let them try," even as the thought came again, that maybe this really was nothing more than a good way to get killed.
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A doodle and a quick extract from the monster au i've been developing because I love writing tragic backstories and i love gerry keay
Gerry here is what is more commonly known as a soul eater, a wraith or many other horrible ghosty ghoulies. He hunts by marking and stalking certain unfortunate individuals, waiting for that opportune moment right after death where he can devour their souls and the remants of their lifeforce to extend his life.
[Statment Begins]
He’s heaving and crying, shifting in an out of focus as eyes blink in and out of existence all while shuddering in his place in the circle. He’d thrown himself from his chair at some point, losing it in his desperate primal instinct to just crawl away even trapped with nowhere to go he were. Something awful pulling him apart from the core before it eases under the sigils tight grip. Heaving, hurting even when it ends, crying despite it all. Trying to force himself to take a breath, to work past the pain and fear keeping him locked tight, something blackened among the divots of claw marks carved into the wood of the floor.
Gerry is in the room now, he looks right to burn everything to the ground with agony and murder on his face. Gertrude, a mix of fury and sick unexpected fear of her own he can feel goes much deeper than him failing to die.
He forces himself to speak through raw, gasping breaths as he forces himself through the lock on his body. Still clutching his head and digging lines into what used to be his skull and moving just enough to look at her, eyes wide and voice shuddering as he tries to keep the growl of static of unwitting frantic compulsion from his throat.
“He knows what we tried to do,” is all he can force out
“We?!”
“Of course he does,” she snaps, tearing papers from the walls and stowing them away into open books, scrambling in a way none of them have ever seen before, “I’d wager the bond is more than enough to make him clear of that, even with the measures I put in place”
Gerry is steps between them.
“He’ll be here any minute now,” She says.
“What the fuck did you do?” Gerard thunders, form morphing, turning into something else. Something that towers over both of them and sends the world into shades of black and white. Permeating the world with thick ink tendrils that turn over filing cabinets behind him, as ink flows like blood out of the closed books on the shelves and from between the spaces in stacks of yellowed pages. The stench of death choking them both as his face twists into something horrible. Something that would have made the old Jon, the Jon who'd only ever known to fear Mr. Spider, choke on his fear.
He’d… he’d never seen Gerry look like that before.
“Gerard, now is hardly the time.” She grits out.
“Answer the fucking question!” he roars, "What the fuck did you do to him?!"
A yellow door opens, and all argument ceases with the man who walks through.
“What do you think, they were trying to do?”
*cracks knuckles* I got you bitch
The Watchers Bargain - arthureameslove (Fae au)
Eye of the Storm - theinkwell33 (mix of siren and calypso magic)
See the Line where the Sky meets the Sea - The_Floating_World (vast Jon au but Martin has a major fantasy gay moment and Jon wears a blue rose in his hair so yeah)
There Are Monsters In These Woods - DoilySpider (you’ve probably heard this one, it’s a major fantasy au)
The Sea Calls Me Home - mothjons (despite the writers username this is another mer one, warning for big sad)
Beastly Behaviour - Prim_the_Amazing (beauty and the beast au but Martin is the beast)
The Unknown Watcher - authureameslove (Beauty and the beast au with a little Magnuspod flare, def worth a read)
Sing a Song of Sixpence - Kaiel (siren Jon but if you love making fun of Elias and British colonialism then this is the fic for you)
Dustcaewung - callmearcturus (you’ve probably see this, it’s just a fluffy lil’ fae au)
They keep trying to row away (series) - assigned_Jon_Kin_Again (sparrow0), Blackwood (transjon), radula, (stickpenalties), screechfox, skvadern (a body horror mermaid fic with a lot of hurt and comfort, is an archivist squad polyamory too, but it’s heavy on the jmart)
Let the bitterest god drink ambrosia - theOestofOCs (no really heavy on jonmartin but it’s defs a cryptic au)
The Lonely Knight - arthureameslove (kind of a supernatural creatures au?? From a certain angle?)
Chamomile - Dribbledscribbles (not really a supernatural creature au but there’s enough fluffy mischief I felt like recommending it anyway)
That’s all I’ve got for now! Hope that helps (and that you haven’t read them all already)
Kindly help a poor starving gay,
Does anyone have a master list of supernatural creature(s) AU for jonmartin? I read a mer!jon and selkie!martin fic and a fairy!jon fic but I crave...more...
@trensu I just want you to know this has been living in my head rent free ever since I saw it
I have no words other than the simple fact that i have exhausted the current amount of tma au fics that aren't just fluff right now and... well, isn't that how the saying goes? if you can't find the fic you wanna read yourself, you may as well just write it yourself.
Simple premise is au where monsters aren't really as we see them in TMA, and can be controlled by the use of crafted sigils, either as a means of warding them off, binding them to an object (usually a book so their powers can be used once the monster's consciousnesss dies) or to destroy them entirely.
Jon is a special case by way of his rather permanent transformation at the hands of Elias, who'd crafted a very special sigil of his own to bind Jon to his command as part of a much bigger plan. Trapped with Jon, although not bound or created by Elias in the same manner, is Gerard Keay and Michael Shelly, with the latter being very miffed to say the least at being unable to kill any of the institute staff, (including most pertinantly, Gertrude Robinson the one responsible for the sigils binding them there for her uses under threat of death).
For a long time things seem absolutely hopless when Gertrude's last plan to stop Elias fails and she dies as a result, Michael and Gerry still bound to the institute and being used as unwitting labor by Elias in the aftermath with Jon staying as far away from the institute as he can until the time comes when Elias will inevitably use the sigil to force him back to the institute again.
Needless to say meeting and saving Martin blackwood from his own monsters was not something any of them could have forseen.
I have no words other than the simple fact that i have exhausted the current amount of tma au fics that aren't just fluff right now and... well, isn't that how the saying goes? if you can't find the fic you wanna read yourself, you may as well just write it yourself.
Simple premise is au where monsters aren't really as we see them in TMA, and can be controlled by the use of crafted sigils, either as a means of warding them off, binding them to an object (usually a book so their powers can be used once the monster's consciousnesss dies) or to destroy them entirely.
Jon is a special case by way of his rather permanent transformation at the hands of Elias, who'd crafted a very special sigil of his own to bind Jon to his command as part of a much bigger plan. Trapped with Jon, although not bound or created by Elias in the same manner, is Gerard Keay and Michael Shelly, with the latter being very miffed to say the least at being unable to kill any of the institute staff, (including most pertinantly, Gertrude Robinson the one responsible for the sigils binding them there for her uses under threat of death).
For a long time things seem absolutely hopless when Gertrude's last plan to stop Elias fails and she dies as a result, Michael and Gerry still bound to the institute and being used as unwitting labor by Elias in the aftermath with Jon staying as far away from the institute as he can until the time comes when Elias will inevitably use the sigil to force him back to the institute again.
Needless to say meeting and saving Martin blackwood from his own monsters was not something any of them could have forseen.