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#i believe that they only really started building a connection after prentiss trapped martin in his flat bc jon is noticably nicer to martin
fiendishartist2 · 10 months
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nvm turns out i just bring more tma doodles
(image 1): "maybe if i pretend to have a nervous breakdown elias will let me leave" "i think im in love with my boss"
(image 2): "DRUGS GIVE ME DRUGS GIVE ME DRUGS-" "can you feel the love tonight~"
#im so bored bc its like 2am but i cant sleep bc i had a nap in the middle of the day#so im just like sitting here... wide awake.......#whatever#to no ones surprise i am once again drawing jon in a fancy little outfit#this time its a jumpsuit#they're so sillay to ME. to you its a tragedy but im different#im rewatching tma rn and i just started s3 and ik i posted about ut yesterday but martin is so so so funny#all jon does so far is: be a little prick to martin specifically. stalk his coworkers. and get accused of murder and then disappear#and martin is like 😳😳😳#i believe that they only really started building a connection after prentiss trapped martin in his flat bc jon is noticably nicer to martin#and even in s2 when everything is falling apart btwn jon and tim and jon is becoming more irrational- martin cares about him#so i think s2 is when martin was like oooh okay. so im in love with him. esp with daisy's interview like thats proof to me that he was-#-at least crushing on jon at that point lol#and his continued faith in jon leading up to and proceeding leitners murder is just extra proof that martin cared a lot about jon from-#-prentiss onward#oh also that song martin is singing is na na na by mcr and jon is singing can you feel the love tonight by elton john#in my heart i believe jon went out for drinks at least once with the s1 crew even tho i know in my brain he probably wouldnt </3#my art#doodles#tma#the magnus archives#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#jonmartin#sorry if they're hard to see im allergic to good phones and its dark in my room rn
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haberdashing · 4 years
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What A Tangled Web We Weave (9/?)
TMA AU diverging from canon at the end of episode 92. Jon is forced into an arranged marriage by Elias; Martin does what he can to help.
on AO3
Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9
Martin managed to be a bit more productive work-wise after his tea break than he had been beforehand, though that wasn’t saying much. Every once in a while he’d look up from where he was staring at his computer monitor and glance around to see if Tim had returned while he wasn’t looking, and every time Tim remained nowhere to be seen.
That was... a problem, and one he would probably have to deal with sooner rather than later, but he couldn’t very well do much about it when Tim wouldn’t even be in the same room as him.
By the time Martin went home at the end of the day, he still had yet to see Tim, and part of him worried about it. What if something had happened to Tim, if he’d ran from Martin only to fall victim to some greater terror? What if the last time he’d ever see Tim would be when he was frozen in fear as Martin begged him not to tell anybody else what he’d become?
Or what if Tim was just freaked out by having a spider monster as a coworker, as most people naturally would be, and everybody else he knew would likely act the same once the truth came out? Everyone he knew, everyone he cared about, avoiding him at all costs, any personal connection they might have had irreversibly severed after they found out what he was now?
And they would find out eventually. Even if Tim stayed true to his word and kept schtum, even if Martin managed to not let the truth slip out to anybody else... assuming his deal wasn’t made in vain, his wedding to Jon would be in a month’s time (or a few days less than, now), and there’d be no hiding that he was connected to the Web after that.
Was it better to break the news slowly and cautiously over time, or to enjoy what peace he could before everything inevitably came crashing down around him?
...this was going to be a long month.
At least his sleep was peaceful enough once again, even if Martin almost wished for a night of tossing and turning just so he could put off the inevitable that much longer.
Tim was in his normal spot when Martin arrived in the Archives the next morning, which did reassure him that the worst hadn’t happened to him yet, but he could practically feel Tim’s glare burning into him, and when Martin got up to look for a file he needed for his research he wasn’t terribly surprised to find that Tim was gone by the time he returned.
Martin tried not to let Tim’s absence bother him too much, tried to get on with business as usual; after all, he knew well enough that hunting Tim down for a conversation would likely be counterproductive and might well lead to Tim lashing out at him. He didn’t search the far corners of the Archives for Tim’s presence, didn’t make any trips through the building that weren’t strictly necessary for work purposes. If Tim needed time to himself, so be it.
...alright, Martin supposed that technically, his trip to the loo wasn’t strictly necessary for work purposes, but it was necessary for... biological purposes. That much hadn’t changed, at least. Admittedly he probably could have waited longer, and maybe he just jumped at the excuse to stretch his legs a bit after staring at his computer monitor for what felt like hours on end, but.
To be fair, Martin hadn’t expected Tim to be in there when he entered.
He assumed it was Tim, anyway. He couldn’t see the majority of Tim’s body, given that he was in one of the stalls, but Martin vaguely remembered seeing those shoes on Tim earlier in the day, and there were only so many potential users of the men’s room in the Archives, anyway. His trousers were still on, from what Martin could see, not bunched up around his lower legs, and that didn’t change as Martin took a minute to process what he was seeing and think of an appropriate reaction, so...
“Are you seriously sitting on the toilet in here just so you don’t have to be in the same room as me?”
Martin regretted phrasing his question so bluntly when he saw Tim’s legs stiffen in response, though how much of Tim’s evident tenseness was due to the wording of Martin’s question and how much was just Martin’s presence being made clear was still up in the air.
For a moment, Martin thought Tim wasn’t going to dignify his question with a response, thought Tim was going to be silent and hope that he just went away, and while that wasn’t ideal Martin was willing to follow through, but after Martin stepped closer to the facilities, Tim finally spoke up.
“Did you come here to kill me?”
“...what?”
“I said, did you come here to kill me?”
A year ago, that might have been a joke that Tim bandied around in the work room, accusing Martin of plotting murder via too much tea or some such nonsense, a throw-away remark punctuated with a laugh. Now, Tim’s voice was deadly serious.
“Wha- no! No, of course not! Jesus, Tim, I’m not going to kill you, I’m not going to kill anyone-”
“Then piss off. I’ve made nice with a monster pretending to be a coworker for long enough, thanks. Not playing that game again.”
“I’m not-” Martin hesitated, considering his words carefully. He didn’t think he was a monster now, exactly--not the way Tim meant it, anyway, not like Prentiss had been--but, well, Tim had seen him with eight eyes, and arguing that point seemed like a losing battle.
“I’m not pretending to be your coworker.” Martin said instead. “I am your coworker. It’s still me, Tim.”
A brief pause before Tim responded. “But with freaky spider eyes.”
Martin leaned against the wall, grimy though it was--whatever they were paying their janitors, it wasn’t enough.
“...but with freaky spider eyes, yeah.” Martin admitted.
“And with freaky spider powers.”
That threw Martin for a loop. Had Tim found out about the spider space bar thing, then? Had- had Jon figured it out already, and told Tim about it? Or did Tim manage to piece it together all on his own?
“...what d’you mean, freaky spider powers?”
“I think that’s what that was, anyway... I hope that’s what that was. Hope I wasn’t just too much of a coward to run. Hope it’s not my own damn fault my throat closes up every time I try to tell someone what you really are.”
Martin bit his lip hard enough that he could taste blood as the meaning of Tim’s words washed over him.
“God, Tim, I...”
Martin tried to remember exactly what words he’d used when he’d spoken to Tim before, if anything had felt out of the ordinary when he’d spoken them. He’d told Tim to stop, and he’d stopped. He’d told Tim not to tell anybody about what he was, and apparently Tim had followed through there, too. He’d assumed it was a coincidence that Tim had actually listened and done what he’d asked, that or, or some strange stroke of luck... but he never was that lucky, was he?
“Please don’t give me some half-assed excuse for an apology.”
Martin gulped. “...I wasn’t going to.”
“Good.”
“I just want you to know I, I didn’t mean to? I just, I spoke without thinking, I just wanted to talk you out of telling the others-”
Tim snorted, though there was no true levity to the sound. “Sure, just like Jon asks questions purely out of idle curiosity.”
Martin bit his lip again, trying his best to ignore the tang of copper as he did so. He still thought Jon meant well, too, but... but Tim obviously had stopped believing that some time ago.
“Do you want me to... tell you you can say whatever you want to the others? Maybe I can do that, I can, can override what I did before by telling you something different-”
“And give you permission to do even more mind control in the process?” Tim let out a loud huff. “Hard pass, thanks.”
“...fair enough.” Martin thought silently for a moment. “What if I can- can prove it’s me? Something only I’d know, that sort of thing?”
“You can try.” Tim’s voice didn’t sound especially enthusiastic about the idea, and Martin couldn’t blame him--after all, Sasha had apparently been a monster for months now, and they hadn’t noticed anything was off--but he had to try, he had to do something.
“Remember when I was living in the Archives, and you came in--without warning, mind you, normal people knock, Tim--and started speculating about how I clearly liked someone, and maybe I wouldn’t tell you who because it was someone in the Archives? You guessed Sasha, you guessed yourself... but you never even mentioned Jon.”
Tim snorted. “Guess I assumed you had better taste than to go for our asshole boss.”
Martin could feel his face heat up. “Well, then I guess you assumed wrong.”
After a moment, Martin added, “Is that enough proof for you?”
A long silence hung in the air before Tim responded.
“What if it’s not?” Tim’s voice was darkly serious. “What would you do then? Would you kill me?”
“Wha- Tim, no, we went over this, I’m not killing you-”
“Trap me in the loo for all eternity?”
“The only one trapping you in here is yourself, Tim, you can leave whenever you want. This isn’t my doing.”
“Why’d you enter in the first place, then?”
Martin’s face heated up again, though for a very different reason this time. “I had to use the toilet! I still have to, okay? If that makes you uncomfortable, if you really don’t want to be in the same room as me, just leave so I can go already, and, and then you can come back after I’m done, if you want.”
“And if I leave the stall now, you won’t wipe my mind or, or do some spooky spider magic on me-”
“No, Tim. Absolutely not. I swear.”
A brief pause, and then the door unlocked and Tim emerged, his face pale, his eyes narrow and suspicious.
“For what it’s worth, I'm sorry.”
“Sure.” The sarcasm in Tim’s voice was bitter and biting.
Tim stayed as far from Martin as he could while approaching the bathroom door before bursting outside, his footsteps ringing out fast and heavy as the door slowly closed behind him.
Martin sighed and rubbed his (two) eyes for a long moment before heading over to use the facilities himself.
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