RedScribbler
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“Now then, I’m sure you’re wondering exactly what all this is about, hmm?”
“Well... y-yes?”
Bouchard held a brass key up and turned to Martin with a glint in his eye.
“Do you believe in fairytales, Mr. Blackwood?”
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When Martin Blackwood, a lowly servant of the Magnus Estate, is suddenly promoted to assist 'Jon', an angry, acerbic fae that the head of the house holds captive, he knows his new job will lead to nothing but trouble.What he doesn’t know is that Jon’s type of trouble might be exactly what he needs.
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"They died, separately, nearly twenty years ago. Cycling accident and some kind of heart thing. No connection to the Magnus Institute. As far as I can tell they never even met."
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Twenty years ago, Jonathan Sims quits smoking.Twenty years ago, Martin Blackwood’s mother survives her second stroke.
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“What... is this?”
“Never seen a pine tree before, boss?”
Jon’s mild frown morphed into a fierce glower as he turned from the waist-high decoration to Tim.
“You know what I mean.”
~~Two Contrasting Christmases in the Archives; snapshots of season 1 and 2
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Jon only noticed the scar in the hotel room.
They had awoken Somewhere Else, battered, bloody and bruised, and decided to not fight until they had had a hot shower and a good night’s sleep.
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For JonMartin Week 2023!
Prompt for Day 1: Scars
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Auxiliary (adj.): Providing Supplementary Information and Context
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A collection of episodic oneshots written over the course of a full relisten of The Magnus
Archives
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and then that word grew louder and louder by Duck_Life
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
18 Jul 2020
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Martin reflects on how much of himself he had to give up for his master plan.
Bookmarked by RedScribbler
15 Jan 2026
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Jon's first night in Chicago, he and Martin talk.
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“It’s just,” he presses his fingertips to his forehead. “It feels odd, it feels bad, it feels difficult and discordant almost, in this…” Horror of my making. Cage of my craftwork. This Catch-22, this slaughterhouse, god I’m sorry, I’m so sorry – “Situation… to have to do the mundanities. Eating, sleeping -”
“Keeping up the Duolingo streak.”
Jon huffs.
“Indeed, keeping up the – shit!”
Martin laughs, properly, and Jon can see him in his mind’s eye – crinkles at his temples and dimple hollowing out his cheek.
“That’s the sound of a man who’s neglected his Spanish past participles.”
I can read every language in the world. I can speak every dialect, and form every sound, and fool every native. But I started that bloody streak the day I started as Head Archivist, some ego-fragility fuelled quest for yet more pseudo-intellectualism and guess what, Martin Blackwood, that is the day I met you. I could Know the days since we met, of course I could, but this physical counter is messy, and human, and you are messy, and human, and I will cling to it with ragged fingernails even if I never get -
Bookmarked by RedScribbler
14 Jan 2026
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Ask an Exec: How to Navigate Cultish Colleagues, Soul-Stealing Bosses, and the End of the World at Work by shinyopals
Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
02 May 2023
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I've recently been unexpectedly promoted to lead a department in my organisation, wrote the anonymous emailer.
As there was no one working here when I arrived, my manager, who is head of the organisation, had promised me the choice of my own assistants. However, without warning, he simply presented me with an additional assistant. This new assistant’s first act on his first day was to let a dog into the office. It took several hours to catch and clean up after this dog and it has only been downhill from there. I admit I'm not entirely sure what to do with this assistant now I'm stuck with him. I'm hoping you have some advice?
Kind regards,
New ManagerAbigail Bailey runs a successful management advice blog. One frequent contributor is from a workplace with some... issues.
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The stranger smiles, eyes wet, like Martin’s just given him everything he’s ever dreamed of and more. “Just—look around. We did it, Martin, we made it.”
Martin flinches back, out of reach of the man’s bloodstained hands, and stares at him. Something is wrong here. So, so wrong. From the blood anointing them both to the way this man says his name like there are worlds of meaning behind it, everything about this is wrong. “Did what?” he pleads. “I- I’m sorry, do I know you?”
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Bookmarked by RedScribbler
13 Jan 2023
Bookmarker's Notes
if you read only one post-canon fic, make it this one; perfect characterisation, beautiful romance, heartbreaking feelings, and every chapter made me cry 10/10
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She wakes, back in her thirty years old body. She looks at herself in the mirror, naked, eyes sliding over shapes both familiar and foreign. All the traces of the years that she lived, gone. No calluses on her hands from gardening, no wrinkles from the sun, no scars, no dry elbows - she’s as she was, before. She doesn’t know if she likes it.
Bookmarked by RedScribbler
06 Sep 2022