anxilly
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“You’re really suggesting this,” Martin says, voice pulled thin.
“Yes.” No hesitation.
“You would- actually do it?”
“I would.”
“With me.”
“Yes, Martin.”
“Why?” Because love is blind, says something cliché and cruel in the pit of his gut. Christ, he never was much of a poet, was he?Or,
When Jon asks Martin to Quit the Archives with him, Martin says yes. Things don't go as planned. In the Scottish Highlands, they hurt, and they heal.
(Re-written as of 22-12-27; see chapter 9 for more info.)
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Bookmarked by anxilly
16 Jul 2026
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And then Jon is snarling into his face, demanding what are you hiding with a strange, bright-eyed intensity Martin has never seen from him before, and Martin thinks god, maybe he should just come clean about his CV, Jon thinking he's a fraud can't be any worse than Jon thinking he's a murderer-
Martin opens his mouth to speak. To his absolute horror, what actually comes out is: "I used to pretend to cry because I liked how nice you were to me when you thought I was upset!"
Bookmarked by anxilly
11 Jul 2026
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“What--” He stops to compulsively lick his lips. His back hits the wall-- he’d started backing up at some point and he hadn’t noticed. He can’t tear his eyes away from the man on his couch. No. The creature. “What are you?”
Martin finally looks up from his book. He looks at Jon. He doesn’t look like Prentiss. He isn’t full of gaping holes that should have killed him, he isn’t covered in squirming, shiny white worms, he doesn’t smell like a moldy, rotting corpse. He looks like a pleasant, normal man. He has freckles scattered across the bridge of his nose, his cheeks. Monsters shouldn’t have freckles, Jon thinks nonsensically.
“I’m your boyfriend,” the monster sitting on his couch says, as if this is a matter that is not up for debate, that Jon has no say in.
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Bookmarked by anxilly
11 Jul 2026
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“You know what's funny?” Martin asks, and Jon looks up at him, dazed. “I don't, uh. I don't think I really need to breathe anymore? It just seems weird to give up the habit.” He laughs, but his eyes are tearing up a little again.
“You get used to it,” Jon says, bringing one of Martin's hands to his chest, the beating of his heart the only movement.
“Oh, good,” Martin says, and then it's like the drive up to Scotland, the both of them laughing because it's either do that or cry, curled in on each other and shaking. They end up in a heap on the floor, amid the lingering dust and the scattering of cleaning rags.
Bookmarked by anxilly
07 Jul 2026
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i see what your language is, separate from the sound by Did
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
08 May 2021
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Sometimes Martin envies type A people their extensive vocabulary of subvocalizations. They get to use their subvocal suite to communicate perfectly reasonable things, like back off and that's mine and hello sexy. Unlike Martin, whose subvocals exist for the sole purpose of making him sound like the biggest, whiniest baby. Especially when he's coming up on a heat.
Martin keeps it under wraps as best he can, but there's only so long he can hold it in. So, sometimes, after a long workday, Martin double-checks that everyone else has left the archives, makes sure the door at the top of the stairs is locked, and lets loose a bit. Throws himself a little pity party. He's entitled to it. He's earned it.
Specifically, it's the kind of pity party that involves relaxing the muscles of his throat, feeling the vibrating thrum building up behind his teeth, and exhaling out a mournful trill of hello? I'm here? Is anyone there? I'm here. I'm all alone.
Series
- Part 1 of take a sad song and make it better
Bookmarked by anxilly
07 Jul 2026