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shooting for the stars (desperately reaching for something in the dark) by riverdog
Fandoms: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
25 Aug 2024
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Jean Moreau signs his contract with the USC Trojans and wonders how on earth he’s ever going to survive the next two years of his life.
Only, when Jean gets to Los Angeles, he starts to realize that what he’s doing looks less like surviving and more like living, and this new life he’s building is something he’ll fight like hell to hold onto.
Healing is the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he’s got a messy, spectacular team at his back, friends who are slowly turning into family, a city that’s starting to feel like home, and something that's shaping up to feel a lot like it might be love holding him together while he assembles a person from the broken pieces of his life.
Or: a look at Jean's first year with the Trojans and his slightly rocky path to recovery, rewritten.
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she carries the things that remind me of who we used to be by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
30 Oct 2023
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Tim drops the recorder, slaps a hand over his mouth. He can’t breathe, can barely even think around the ice in his lungs, stabbing into his chest as sharply as a dagger.
At least when he lost Danny he knew. One moment he had a brother, and then the next he didn’t. Simple as that. He lost him, and he grieved — is still grieving, probably. But this is…
This is a kind of grief Tim is entirely unacquainted with. He lost Sasha a year ago and didn’t even know it. Sasha died, and he wasn’t even allowed to mourn, just had to go on loving something that walked in her shadow with no warning, no idea he was even doing it.
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summer falling through our fingers by riverdog
Fandoms: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
14 Aug 2023
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“I love you,” Crowley says.
“Oh, I know. I love you, too.”
Crowley breaks out in a wobbly smile, one more valiant tear making a break for it down his cheek. Voice cracking, Crowley says, “Home office might not like it, if they find out.”
“Home office could fill a book with reasons they don’t like us, and that’s just with the last twenty-four hours,” Aziraphale points out. “I’m sure… fraternizing—”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days—”
“You, hush. I’m sure this—” He gestures to their naked, entwined bodies— “won’t even make the top ten.”
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Martin’s breath hitches, and he turns, drops his face into the crook of Jon’s shoulder. His nose is cold, and he’s shivering, but Jon’s always run a bit warm so he just holds Martin by the shoulders, pulling him into his chest.
He doesn’t usually get to be the one to do this; doesn’t often get the chance to hold someone like this, to wrap them up and keep them safe. That Martin is letting him now sets his heart fluttering on butterfly wings.
Turning to press his lips to Martin’s temple, Jon asks, “Will you come back to bed?”
Martin sighs heavily. “Yeah.” He nods against Jon’s neck. “Okay. Let’s go.”
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send me reeling, calling out to you for more by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
11 Nov 2022
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Gently, Tim pushes him backward, lays him back against his fluffy down pillow, hovers over him at arm’s length with his fingers still splayed protectively over Martin’s clavicle. Martin hums, confused, makes a vague attempt to push himself up, but Tim doesn’t let him.
“No, it’s okay. Stay there. Just…” And now that Martin’s looking, really looking, he can see the something like pleading in his eyes, the hunger painted over every inch of his face. “Let me take care of you?”
Any thought Martin might’ve had forming in his head screeches to a grinding halt. Martin is not, historically speaking, any good at letting himself be taken care of. It goes against some instinct deep at the core of him.
And yet…
Somehow, Tim’s words immobilize him, gluing him to the spot as he stares, awestruck, up at Tim. He thinks his brain might be about to leak out of his ears. He’s definitely leaking something else somewhere a little further down south.
“O-okay,” he finally manages to stammer, nodding jerkily.
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It feels nice, to type ‘Martin K. Blackwood’ and see it there in what he hopes is a professional-looking serif font. (He doesn’t even know what the K stands for, yet. It just feels more grown up to have a middle initial; like if he puts it there, they might not question when he walks in looking like a teenage boy at best.)
He sort of likes it, to have this one thing just for him. He’s hiding almost everything else about his life going into this job hunt, but he doesn’t have to hide this.
So he sends off his CV and doesn’t expect much to come of it. But then… But then three days later he gets a call. It’s the receptionist at the Magnus Institute, asking for ‘Mr. Blackwood,’ telling him the head of the whole bloody place would like him to see him for an interview, and does he have time to come in tomorrow afternoon?
He says yes before he can even think about it.
Or: Martin Blackwood, on transition and personhood.
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these hands of mine are clumsy, not clever by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
23 Aug 2022
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Martin scrunches his nose up. “M-maybe don’t, uh. Don’t poke at your knife wounds?”
Jon’s eyes slip back to him, and then, miraculously, they soften, his face smoothing out as he actually huffs out a quiet laugh, lips ticking upwards. “Sound advice, thank you, Martin.”
This time, when Martin smiles, it’s real. “Always happy to help.”
Jon’s smile falls, but not… not in a sad way? Martin sees something genuine and honey-sweet spark in his dark, lamp-lit eyes, and thinks they might be talking about more than just a joke, now. “I… I appreciate it. Really.”
“I really am glad to help,” Martin tells him, his own voice going soft around the edges. “I just…” What can he even say? That he just wants Jon to be okay? That he’s been so worried it keeps him up at night, tossing and turning as icy fear grips him so tight it feels like his ribcage is constricting inside his chest? “A-anything I can do.”
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“C’mon.” Tim perches on the edge of Martin’s desk, leans forward into his space. “I have a spare room. With a real bed. Comfy pillows, heating system from this century, goose down duvet…”
Martin sighs. “I…” The thing about Tim is he’s pretty enough that his puppy-dog eyes have an unfair amount of power, even if you’re not Martin, a person with a weakness for pretty men acting sweet to him. “I guess.” Tim whoops, and Martin is sure to add, “just tonight, though.”
Tim invites Martin to stay with him after the Prentiss incident. It goes really, really well.
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Maybe we’ll end up somewhere else.
The Panopticon crumbles. Jon bleeds and bleeds and bleeds in Martin’s arms.
There’s a feeling like nothing Martin is capable of describing; something beyond the scope of the language he as at his disposal. All he has is this: the world pulls itself apart around him.
Something ends. Something starts again.
Then Martin wakes up.
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“in your sleep, you were…” jon strokes his thumb over martin’s cheek, fingertips behind his ear. he is so unspeakably, unbearably gentle… it nearly burns. martin’s still not 100% sure how to handle this, how to take the proffered hand and let himself be held, be cared for. “you were calling for me.”
“oh.” the dream is already fading; all that remains is the dense cotton-headed feeling, the memory of cold fog coiling around everything that makes martin martin. “i was dreaming… i think i was looking for…” he swallows. “i think… i was lost.”
jon breathes out slowly. “you’re here. you’re here now.”
or,
3 times jon's touch brings martin home, +1 time he's already there.
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what if i'm not a part of the see and be seen? by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
10 Nov 2021
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There’s an awkward moment, as they’re about to go to sleep, where Martin goes to climb into bed at the same moment as Jon, and then they both hesitate, and it’s kind of like when you’re trying to go around someone on the sidewalk and both keeping trying to move in the same direction and cutting each other off. Martin can’t help it. He laughs. It feels good, to have something to laugh about again. Jon looks at him strangely, but that just makes Martin’s heart swell fit to bursting.
They gesture to the bed. “After you.”
Jon’s face finally breaks out into something like a smile. “Well. Thank you.”
He climbs onto the bed, situating himself close to the wall, hair falling onto his cheeks, his forehead, soft and lovely in the dim light of Martin’s small bedside lamp. Twelve hours ago, Martin thought they were going to die. They’d thought — this is it. And they’d been… they’d been okay with it. Now, the idea that they might’ve missed this moment right here makes their chest bottom out so fast and so intensely it almost takes their breath away.
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my hands will wait for a taste of your skin by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
02 Sep 2021
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In the near-dark, Jon lays back down next to Martin. Martin turns so they’re facing each other on their pillows, faces only centimeters apart. Jon’s eyes search Martin’s face, and he brings his hand up, gently holds Martin’s cheek.
Martin holds his breath. Out here in the countryside, the quiet feels louder than the ever-present hum of London activity ever was. The only sounds are the faint hum of wind and the occasional rustling of the sheets. His touch is so lovely, his eyes so soft… for just a second, Martin thinks Jon might be about to kiss him.
But he doesn’t.
He just brushes his thumb along Martin’s cheekbone, pushes his hair off his forehead and behind his ears, and lets his hand fall back onto the mattress between them. “Goodnight, Martin.”
Missing the contact already, Martin takes Jon’s hand and laces their fingers together. He squeezes. “Goodnight, Jon.”
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Martin swears he used to be optimistic when he was younger. But. You spend 32 years mostly alone, eventually you start thinking practically. Martin doesn’t get things like this. He doesn’t get to stay up late in cafés with cute boys and flirt and get asked out at 4:00 in the morning.
He thinks, as he crawls back into bed half an hour later to try and salvage at least a little bit more rest before tomorrow begins, that he really hopes Jon proves him wrong. He hopes Jon sticks around.
Or: Somewhere Else, Jon and Martin get the chance to fall in love without the weight of everything they left behind.
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i mean it (but i promise i'm not mean) by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
10 Jun 2021
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Summary
Melanie wants to live so fucking much that she fought for it, like she’s been fighting for it all her life. Sometimes that fight looks like bad box dye job snuck under her parents noses, sometimes it looks like scraping together a crew to go out and hunt ghosts on YouTube. Sometimes it’s grizzlier — sometimes it looks like this: doing whatever it takes to be back in control of her life. Even if it hurts.
Or: Melanie King, on autonomy and choice.
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“Is this— Can I—” Jon’s not even sure what he’s asking for, not sure what Martin says yes to until he does, and then it feels obvious as anything to slide his arm around Martin’s waist, pull himself close and tuck himself into up under Martin’s chin, chest to chest. With a quiet hum, Martin’s arm slips around Jon’s shoulders, fingers tightening in his T-shirt as he holds Jon to him.
“Your heart’s racing,” Martin murmurs into the darkness.
Jon nods. There’s no need for denial now. “Yes.”
“I…” Jon feels a long, shaky exhale against his hair. “Your heart’s beating.”
“It is,” Jon tells him. He wonders how cold his fingers were, in that hospital bed, no life in his veins to warm them. “I’m right here.”
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where you are is where i always want to be by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
22 Apr 2021
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Beautifully, marvelously, Jon smiles. A full, honest, real smile; a rare thing, but getting more frequent the longer they stay here unharmed and together. “Wow,” his voice is full of emotion, “I-I like it even more when you say it.”
“Say what?” Martin asks. “Husband?”
Jon’s breath actually catches, and he swoops in, presses a hasty, messy kiss to the corner of Martin’s lips. “Yes,” he murmurs against Martin’s mouth. “That.”
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i wanna find a home (i wanna share it with you) by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
13 Apr 2021
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“Have you got anywhere to stay?” Jon asks him, briskly. “Friends, acquaintances, maybe, who you could stay with…?”
Martin flushes, deeply. “I, I mean— n-no, not really,” he stammers, and then goes even redder. “Or, just, y’know not that I’d want to, to. Put in the middle of this. Put in danger of, of worms.”
“Ah,” Jon says, “No, of course, that makes sense.” Why drag anyone else into this mess? Seven people died during Prentiss’s initial hospitalization; the collateral damage of roping someone from outside the Institute into her orbit doesn’t bare thinking about. “In that case…” Jon feels like there’s some alternative solution, one he’s just not thinking of at the moment, but it evades him, and Martin needs somewhere safe to stay. “My couch is quite comfortable. You’re welcome to come and stay with me until you figure something else out.”
Martin is held hostage by Jane Prentiss for two weeks, and can't go back to his flat. Jon offers him a place to stay until Prentiss and her worms can be dealt with, and they can be sure he's safe.
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pull these old white sheets from my head by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
21 Oct 2020
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People don’t come back from the dead for Martin. They don’t look at him like they’re lost without him there. They don’t barge into his office with desperation in their eyes and half-baked ideas of running off together. They certainly don’t follow Martin into a death sentence; they don’t kill for him and beg him to see and drag him out, clutching his hand like he’s someone worth holding onto, someone worth wanting.
But Jon finds him in the Lonely.
Or: Martin Blackwood, on being wanted.
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“Yeah.” Martin nods. “That’s — I mean, it’s like that. Holding your hand. I’m not gonna… I won’t drift away. You, um.” He pauses, takes a breath. “In a weird, metaphysical sense, you keep me… grounded.”
“Like an anchor,” Jon blurts.
“Like an anchor,” Martin agrees.
Jon and Martin run away together, reconnect, and settle into something that almost looks like a normal life.
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these doomsday prophecies are all gonna amount to nothing by riverdog
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
12 May 2020
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Jon’s voice cuts off with the sound of tearing paper, like the words themselves are being ripped from his throat.
He sucks in a sharp breath, ragged and hoarse, and Martin wants, badly, to comfort him; to take Jon’s face in his hands or hold him or ask him what the hell he just walked into. But getting rid of this statement feels more important right now. This thing was hurting Jon, somehow, so it needs to be gone, now.
Martin comes home early, and keeps up a long-running tradition of keeping doors locked firmly in Elias's face.