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“Martin, I’m—” He broke off with a shiver, whether from cold or fear he couldn’t say. A search for his professional composure turned up empty, so he’d have to settle for ‘not completely deranged’ and hope that Martin would forget all of this by morning. “I apologize if I woke you.”
(JonMartin Week #1, combining the prompts "Comfy Jumpers" and "Nightmares")
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The Cloak and the Dagger by fushifables for TwoDrunkenCelestials
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
31 Dec 2020
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Once upon a time,
“Good lord, Martin, I agreed that we could write it down, not add frivolous embellishments.”
(Once upon a time, there was evil and there was fear; there was loneliness and there was love.)
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Everything that might lie in wait, that hungered for terror, that spared even a fleeting thought for the Archivist and his companion or their whereabouts—Jon could See them all, if he allowed himself, and tear their minds from their flesh in an instant. It would be so easy; the mere idea of it tugged at his mind with the force of an ocean’s current, urging him out of himself.
But then Martin was before him, untying the knot with trembling fingers, always trembling fingers, and he had made a promise.
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Martin really didn't want to be crying against Jon's palm, just then. He had already cried on his shoulder, and into his jacket, and onto the only pillow on the hard cot in document storage, and into more than one of the cups of tea he had already received. When they'd returned from the Lonely, it was like a door had been flung wide in his heart, and all of the fear and grief and god-knows-what that he'd been keeping so firmly sealed away this past year had come rushing out, tripping over one another and getting all tangled up in their haste, and he didn't know how to stop it.
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It wasn’t that he had fallen in love. Not then. Not yet. But, in time, he would come to recognize the moment that he had first made his choice. The one that he would later make again and again, in defiance of fear, and distance, and all other things greater than himself.
A series of vignettes concerning certain memories that were deemed too insignificant for tape—something of an oversight, in retrospect.
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Of course, if he could have ended, he would have long ago—though how long, he couldn’t say. How much time had passed since he had last been called? Moments? Days? Centuries? It felt like eternity: almost enough to make him forget the agony of it, the sharp, vivid wrongness of the living world.
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“You— You’re not going to stay?” he was saying nervously, “Don’t you think you should...er, instruct me? Commentate? Mock me for my hubris? Please Hartro anything—”
“Stop whining, Trexel,” Hartro said, pressing a large green button on the console in front of her with a flourish, “I have zero-gravity yoga, so you’ll have to manage on your own. Just remember,” she added, making for the door, “If you die in the HoloDome—trademark Stellar Firma, Limited—you die in real life! Toodles!”
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“Daisy...” he cleared his throat, “I can’t...I can’t keep a cat in my office.”
(Spoilers through 147)
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The tale of an unusually earnest god and an extraordinarily insolent mortal; or, the source of minor miracles.
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It was a stupid, selfish thought. Jon cared for him, Martin knew. Loved him, he had said (well, stammered). Leaned against his shoulder when they drank tea on the sofa, and dutifully read his terrible poetry, and held tightly to his hand when he took it—even if he never seemed to quite meet Martin’s eyes as he did. Jon was here, and they were together, and he couldn’t—he wouldn’t ask for anything more than that.
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The bones were dry in Martin’s hands, a melancholy ivory stripped of everything but time. Well preserved, after two-hundred years housed in a building dedicated to documents and dusty memories, but little else could be said for them.
(Written for the Magnus Archives Creations Challenge. General season 4 spoilers.)
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But here, now... It had been weeks since he’d seen as much as a glimpse of Martin’s heels as he rounded a corner. Yet here he was, not a half-dozen paces away.
#HugJonSims2k19
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Change comes, welcome or not. But some things are immutable.
(Major spoilers through MAG 134)
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There was a brief silence as Trexel considered the screen, and David considered Trexel. Then, almost quietly...
“Are you trying to kill me, David?”
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“Jon, we’ve been over this.”
“No, we haven’t,” Jon frowned more deeply, crossing his arms. “Not really. That’s the problem.”
(Set after MAG133)
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When it came down to it, it would always be worth one more scar, one more shot in the dark. One more for the collection.
(Spoilers through MAG 131—after which it will doubtless become canon non-compliant as Jonny presents us with something worse than our most terrible imaginings.)
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David 7’s question, spoken in a strained near-whisper before he’d even had the time to formulate a greeting, caught him entirely by surprise.
“Is clone slurry made of clones?”
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An old rivalry, a new friendship, and cake. Post-chapter 79.
Written for the 2018 Noragami Secret Santa event.
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Heaven is holding a sports day, which turns out about as well as you'd expect.
My entry for the Noragami Big Bang, featuring Yato and Yukine in a three-legged race, Take-chan's newly unsealed powers, Bisha's abs, and more!
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Drabbles for Yatori Week 2016 (updated as the week goes along)
1. Hatsukoi
2. Yume
3. Ito
4. Iwanu
5. Chiryou
6. Todoku
7. Kyori