#tma valentine's exchange

[transmascsteveharrington]

I posted 6,885 times in 2022

269 posts created (4%)

6,616 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@carfuckerlynch

@ibuprofengirl

@captainmilf

@m-e-w-666

@martinbelovedblackwood

I tagged 3,231 of my posts in 2022

#tma - 1,000 posts

#jonmartin - 484 posts

#stranger things - 277 posts

#jon sims - 202 posts

#martin blackwood - 171 posts

#steddie - 148 posts

#manon babbles - 131 posts

#eurovision - 100 posts

#ofmd - 92 posts

#steve harrington - 76 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#which once again leads me back to my thesis that this is bc of the mainstream and nerd audience being pushed into each other’s bubbles via

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Martin loves his job as a professor of English Literature at UCL. If it wasn't for his pretentious asshole of a colleague Jon Sims. Their already less than cordial working relationship only grows worse when they are forced to share an office. Of course, when Jon needs someone to pretend to be his boyfriend at a literature conference, Martin is the only other person in their department going. A deal with high stakes and unforeseen consequences is struck.

Or: 5 times Jon and Martin hated each other and 1 time they didn't

This is a gift for @vanroesburg for the secret snowflake gift exchange organised by @seasons-in-the-archives I hope you like it!!!!

99 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

#4

Jon never thought he would die holding Martin’s hand. But here they are, sitting on the floor of document storage, waiting for Prentiss to break down the door. Jon has no idea how Martin managed to get through this for two weeks in his flat all by himself. Prentiss has been trying to get to them for maybe 20 minutes and Jon has never been so scared.

Five times Jon let go of Martin's hand and the one time he held on.

113 notes - Posted March 12, 2022

#3

You know...uh....you know when the Jon has...has the wedding ring right next to the ace ring in fanart? Good shit, good shit my dude!

191 notes - Posted January 21, 2022

#2

Manon's TMA Fic Masterpost

Hello MTV and welcome to my crib tumblr here is a list of all my tma fics on ao3 where you can find me as ChristinMKay

Multi-chapter Fics:

After everything is said and done (Somehow you are still the one) Lovers to enemies to lovers AU. Jon and Martin are meeting for the first time in 6 years at Melanie's and Georgie's wedding as best men. Chaos, scheming, a bachelorette party and old wounds and feelings opening up again happens.

By Secret and Divine Signs A soulmate slow burn AU where Jmart are too stubborn, stupid, and busy yearning to realize they are soulmates. According to comments/bookmarks also really enjoyed by people who usually don't like soulmate AUs.

A spell that can't be broken Jonmartim witches AU. Enemies to friends to lovers jmart, friends to lovers martim, established and very domestic jontim. Fun world building, bickering and over all feel good.

You have made a home inside of me After Prentiss attacks the Archives, Martin has no place to stay so Jon offers him to crash in his guest room. Of course that is not a smart idea given that Jon has a crush on Martin while also suspecting that Martin might have killed Gertrude.

One Shots

How can I hurt when holding you 5 times Jon let go of Martin's hand and one time he held on.

Who gives a fuck about an Oxford Comma English Lit Professors Jon and Martin hate each other, are forced to share an office and have to fake date.

Tell me when we first met, (will we meet again)5 times Martin had a bad Valentine's Day and the one time it was perfect.

If we were young againPost Mag 200 Martin wakes up alone and tries to find Jon

I'm tryna make you stay so we can make out Georgie surprises Melanie at work during lunch. Kissing ensues.

Fret not dear heart "Dance card is open." Did Tim mean that? When Tim takes Martin out for dinner at the pub Martin tries to figure out if it is a date or not.

264 notes - Posted March 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

[ID: The squidward "Sir we serve food here" meme with "Sir we love Martin K Blackwood here" written on it. END ID]

375 notes - Posted March 15, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[nefkyology]

Mental Health Checkpoint!

I already handed in my fic for the TMA valentine's gift exchange on Twitter this morning and I'm starting to get worried I won't get one in return. It's 6 pm here, I should just study at this point but I have cramps and can't really move. So I'm just waiting.

That concludes the Mental Health Checkpoint!

[theyrejustboys]

Written for @tma-valentines-exchange

For @voiceless-terror, who requested fluff and pre-canon JonTim. I hope you enjoy it!

Read it on AO3 or under the cut!

Content Warnings: drinking, alcohol

Summary: Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat. Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

The first thing that Tim becomes aware of as he’s pulled unwillingly from slumber is the gentle weight pressing down on his legs. The second is the cold hand resting lightly on the strip of bare skin where his t-shirt has risen up in the night. He stirs reluctantly. When he finally opens his eyes, his bedroom is blurry, and he has to blink a few times to clear his vision and his head as the world forms in pieces around him. There’s a low thrumming in his skull that bears the potential of a fully fledged headache if not dealt with swiftly. Perhaps that’s why it takes him another few moments for the implications of the small body snuggled against him to set in.

He can’t see the face of the person in bed with him, not without turning and risking waking them up, but his memories from last night are pouring in too quickly to leave him with any doubt.

---

“Shame Sasha couldn’t make it,” Tim said, sliding into the booth across from Jon.

Jon nodded as he shrugged out of his corduroy jacket. “She’ll be missed,” he said, and if Tim hadn’t spent so long studying his facial expressions across his desk, he might not have noticed the slight upward quirk of his mouth.

“The first round shall be in her honor,” Tim said with only half Jon’s solemnity, lifting a hand to catch the waiter’s attention.

Jon let him order for the both of them, seemingly content to sit back and glance around the pub while Tim spoke. It was a quiet, if kitschy, little place, and Tim had chosen it strategically for that reason. He might not mind the atmosphere in some of London’s more crowded bars, but it had only taken one outing with Jon to realize how desperately uncomfortable that sort of chaos made him. He seemed appreciative of the location tonight, even gracing Tim with a reserved smile once the waiter had disappeared. Tim wanted to take that smile and store it in a treasure chest with all the other beautiful things Jon had offered him throughout their slow-blooming friendship. He smiled back.

“So, that case you were working on this week. Did you ever get past the hurdle with the widow?”

Jon leaned forward eagerly to explain his findings. Tim settled in to listen.

---

It’s Jon. Jon had come home with him. They’d both been too drunk to deal with the hassle of bundling Jon into a taxi, especially when Tim lived only two blocks behind the warm little pub they’d spent their Friday night in. It was convenient.

And now Tim is in bed with Jonathan Sims. Not just in bed, either - Jon is practically on top of him, with one leg slung over both of his own and the hand not resting against Tim’s hip nestled beneath the pillow Tim is lying on. If Tim is very still, he can feel the soft puff of Jon’s breath against his neck.

He resists the urge to hide the smile tugging at his lips. He’d suspected before last night that Jon was more tactile than he let on, but he hadn’t imagined he’d be this clingy.

He understands, of course, that Jon doesn’t feel safe often, that others have not allowed him the time to be cautious with his affection. It’s no secret in the research office that his snippiness and chronically furrowed brows have won him few friends. It’s taken Tim months of steady, gentle friendliness to break through Jon’s carefully prickly exterior into the softness he’d seen hiding beneath. It feels, in a way, like reaching a new level of a video game - once he’d gotten past the grouchiness, the wariness, and then the bashfulness, he’d unlocked the awkward but horribly endearing kindness. And cuddles, apparently.

It’s worth being patient for, worth earning. Tim’s chest feels tight with the weight of his fondness. He wants to pull Jon into his arms and hold him close like he had in the pub last night.

Before Tim can move, however, there's a mumble near his ear as he feels Jon shift. The leg draped over his own slides down. He hears a soft yawn, and then, before he can process that, Jon is rubbing his face into the back of Tim's shirt like a sleepy little cat. Tim grins and faces him.

"Good morning," he says.

Tim half expects Jon to be embarrassed, but he just blinks up at him, still apparently in the dazed, barely conscious state of waking. Then he stretches, arms reaching over his head and back arching slightly. He makes an honest to goodness squeak as he does. Exactly like a little cat.

Tim wants to kiss him.

Oh. Tim wants to kiss him.

So it hadn’t just been the alcohol last night, then.

Jon peers at him, apparently roused to alertness by whatever expression has taken over Tim’s face. "What?"

"Rest well?" Tim says in lieu of a response, because if he dwells on this development any longer he might do something foolish, like brush a hand through the wild mess of dark curls spread across both the pillow he had offered Jon last night and Tim’s own pillow.

"Yes," Jon says.

Ah, there's a touch of the primness Tim loves. “Glad to hear it,” he says, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. “I’ll take the bathroom first, if you don’t mind.”

He thinks Jon burrows deeper into the blankets as he leaves the room.

Across the hallway, Tim stares at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His heart is beating a little too quickly. "Keep it cool, Timothy," he warns himself. Then he splashes some water on his face and knocks back a couple of ibuprofen tablets before he brushes his teeth. "All yours," he calls into the bedroom when he finishes. Jon makes an unintelligible noise in response, and Tim huffs out a soft, breathless laugh as he crosses the flat toward his kitchen.

---

“... but my landlord is utterly heartless,” Jon concluded, looking rather dejected as he finished off his third pint. “He wouldn’t budge on the no pets rule, even for the Captain.”

Tim made a quiet, sympathetic noise, handing back Jon’s mobile after having admired the extraordinarily fluffy cat on the shelter’s front page for an appropriate length of time. “I would have,” he vowed. “For the Captain. Anything for him.”

Jon’s eyes shone briefly, and Tim wondered if he was going to cry. He just sniffed with marginally less dignity than usual and accepted the mobile. “Yes, well,” he said after taking a beat to gather himself. “You’re nice. Of course you would.”

“You think I’m nice?” Tim grinned, propping his elbows on the table and resting his chin in his hand.

“Yes,” Jon said simply.

“Careful, Jon, if you keep up this sweetness I’ll have no choice but to hug you.” Tim was only half-joking.

Jon ducked his head and mumbled, “Well. You could.”

“What?” For a moment, Tim thought he’d misunderstood.

“I said you could.” Jon didn’t look up at him. “If you wanted. I wouldn’t mind.”

Tim could feel his cheeks begin to ache from the force of his smile. He stood quickly and slid into the opposite side of the booth. Jon didn’t pull away as he moved closer, only sat looking at him expectantly from the corner of his eye. “Bring it in, then,” Tim said, and he draped one arm around Jon’s narrow shoulders.

Jon sat stiff and awkward at first contact, but then he melted against him. He rested his head in the crook beneath Tim’s collarbone, sighing so softly Tim could barely hear it over the quiet clatter of the pub. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Tim asked. His voice came out a bit strangled from the sudden warm pressure in his chest.

“For being a nice person,” Jon said with a trace of his familiar exasperation but none of the spikiness. As if it were obvious, as if Tim could see it if only he paid attention.

Tim had been paying attention for a while now. He thought he understood what Jon meant. “Of course,” he said. He didn’t pull away. Neither did Jon.

---

He’s measuring out flour into a glass bowl when he hears Jon pad into the kitchen, and for one exhilarating second Tim wonders if he’s going to hug him from behind. He doesn’t. Tim lingers over the bowl for a few breaths more, then turns to face him. “I’m making muffins,” he announces.

Jon looks surprised. “You bake?”

Tim is momentarily distracted by the way Jon’s hair is piled on top of his head, wrangled into what might generously be called a bun. There are strands hanging around his cheekbones that Tim desperately wants to tuck behind his ears. He clears his throat and tosses a grin over his shoulder as he faces his mixing bowl again. “Why Jon, did you not notice the stupendous cakes I’ve brought to every office party this year? Of course I bake.”

“Oh,” Jon says. “I don’t usually stick around those long enough to eat anything.”

“You will once you’ve had a taste of my baking skills,” Tim promises. “These are going to be the best muffins you’ve tasted in your life.”

“My expectations are high,” Jon says in his dry voice. Months ago, Tim might have thought he was mocking him, but now he recognizes it for the friendly teasing it is. It makes something warm and lofty expand in his chest. Then, a moment later Jon asks, “Can I help?”

Tim opens his mouth to say no, that he’s a guest and should sit down and relax while Tim takes care of everything. He glances over again as Jon steps closer, fidgeting with the sleeve of his hoodie. It’s too long, dangling a few centimeters past his fingertips.

It’s Tim’s hoodie, he realizes with a start. His mouth shuts with a click. He wants to stare at Jon. He wants to turn his face away in case his adoration is too obvious. He still wants to kiss him.

Jon just watches him, picking restlessly at the fabric. He almost looks hopeful. Oh.

Tim gestures with his head toward the fruit basket on the countertop. “Dice an apple for me?”

“Sure.” Tim can hear the smile in his voice.

They work quietly for a few minutes, the only noise coming from the soft click of Jon’s knife against the cutting board and the muted sound of Tim’s whisk in the bowl. Once the fruit is mixed in with the batter, Jon watches as Tim carefully measures equal portions into his muffin tin and slides them into his oven. Tim has a sudden urge to turn on some music, to see if Jon might let him wrap his arms around him and spin him beneath the dim kitchen light.

“How much do you remember from last night?” Jon asks before he can.

Tim leans against the countertop. “Everything,” he says. Then he hesitates. “I think,” he adds nervously. “We weren’t that drunk, were we? Why do you ask?” He would have remembered if he’d -

Jon crosses the floor to the little table in Tim’s entryway. He has a habit of dropping his things there when he walks inside each evening, keys, wallet, and whatever else has accumulated in his pockets throughout the day. Jon rummages in the clutter before waving a short, shiny strip of paper triumphantly.

“Oh,” Tim says. No, he hadn’t forgotten that at all. “Right.”

---

Jon was the one who had pointed out the photo booth. Tim knew it was there - he’d spent a couple of tipsy evenings in it before. The last time had been with Danny. Maybe that memory was the reason he hadn’t brought it up to Jon. Maybe it was just that he didn’t think Jon was the sort to relax enough to enjoy something as trivial and objectively silly as a photo booth.

But Jon herded him away from their table and into the little box at the back of the pub with the same determination he directed toward his work, drawing the black curtain closed as Tim fiddled with the buttons. It smelled vaguely of wine inside. Jon didn’t seem to notice.

“I’ve never done this before,” Jon confessed. He’d had enough drinks by now that there was an airy quality to his voice. He suppressed a yawn. “But I’ve always wanted to.”

“Really?”

Jon nodded. “Never had anyone to do it with,” he said, sounding almost ashamed.

Tim decided not to point out that wasn’t the part he’d been surprised about. “You have me,” he said, settling back as the countdown began for the first photo.

Jon stared at the camera, head tilted slightly as he arranged a smile on his face. “Yes,” he said, then jumped at the flash. The countdown began again. Jon moved closer to Tim, brushing their arms together. “I do have you. I’m glad for that.”

Tim faltered, turning from the camera to look at Jon. Jon glanced up at him, and the careful smile on his face faded to something softer, gentler. Tim’s breath hitched. He’d like to kiss Jon like this, he realized, when he’s open and vulnerable and trusting. He leaned down slightly, suddenly breathless as he lifted a hand to cup Jon’s cheek. “Jon -”

The second camera flash made them both flinch hard, and Jon let out a startled noise that was almost a laugh, hiding his face in the collar of Tim’s shirt as if embarrassed. Tim laughed too, though he could barely hear himself over the pounding in his ears. He let his hand slide around the back of Jon’s head, cradling him, as if that was what he’d meant to do all along. He wondered if Jon could feel his heart thudding against his chest.

Before the last flash lit up the booth, Tim closed his eyes and pressed his forehead into Jon’s hair.

---

“I told you, you’re adorable,” Tim crows.

Jon splutters again, looking down at the photos in his hand in disbelief. “I’m an adult,” he says petulantly. “I can’t be adorable.”

Tim gasps, affronted. “Jonathan Sims! Are you putting an age limit on adorableness ? Please tell me you aren’t suggesting that I can’t be adorable.”

“I didn’t say that,” Jon grumbles.

“Good. I didn’t want to fight for my honor before breakfast.” Tim smirks at him and hopes the teasing is enough to distract from the painfully obvious yearning in his eyes on the strip of photo paper. His hand itches to take it from Jon, to cover up what feels practically like a confession, but he forces himself to be reasonable.

His oven timer beeps, drawing him from his nervous thoughts, and he busies himself tending to the muffins. Mercifully, Jon sets the photo strip aside to rummage in Tim’s cabinets for a pair of plates.

They migrate to the couch and eat quietly. Jon admits that Tim’s baking skills are rather spectacular, and Tim preens a normal amount. He wants to hug Jon again, but he resists. Whatever ease with which Jon had touched Tim the night before seems to have faded. His posture seems a bit stiffer, and he keeps his hands tucked closely in his lap, though Tim does catch him casting contemplative glances his way when he thinks he isn’t looking. He wonders how long it’s been since Jon has received affection.

Jon should receive affection always, Tim thinks, and should be held gently at each opportunity. He hopes he’s given another opportunity to hold Jon soon. He doesn’t push for it, though, doesn’t want to make Jon uncomfortable. He’s waited months to earn the trust he’s been allowed so far; he can be patient again.

“Tim,” Jon says after they’ve sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Yes?” Tim gives him an encouraging smile.

“I’ve - I’ve had a lovely time.” Jon doesn’t meet his eyes.

“That’s the Stoker guarantee,” Tim says with a smirk, though his chest twinges uncomfortably. There’s a but in there.

Jon takes a deep breath. “Yes. Well. Thank you. And - that is, I wanted to say…” He pauses. Opens his mouth and shuts it again.

That feeling in Tim’s chest is sinking lower. He waits.

Jon shifts abruptly, turning to fully face him on the couch. “Tim,” he says.

“Jon,” Tim answers quietly.

And then Jon surges forward and presses a chaste kiss into Tim’s jaw.

"Oh," Tim says. His hand flies up to touch his face.

Jon scrambles backward, blushing deeply. “Yes. Well,” he says again. “That’s all. Sorry, I should have -”

“Jon,” Tim says, “can I hug you?”

Jon makes another one of his soft little squeaks and nods wordlessly before tumbling forward into Tim’s arms. After a moment, he curls himself up smaller, wiggling onto Tim’s lap so as to better cling to him. Tim, very carefully, does not move except to tighten his hold on him.

“If you’re amenable,” Jon finally says, voice muffled in Tim’s shirt, “I would like to do this again sometime.”

Tim stifles a laugh. “And by this, you mean…?”

Jon sits up slightly, though he pouts a bit as he does. “Drinks? Dinner? And then cuddles. And I would like you to hug me again as soon as possible.”

“I don’t have to stop hugging you,” Tim points out. “You don’t have to leave. You can stay right here -” He pats his lap for emphasis. “For as long as you like.”

“You don’t mind?” Jon asks, peering up at him.

“Do I need to convince you how much I like hugging you?”

Jon considers. “No. But you could demonstrate anyway.”

Tim does.

[serenfire]

365 daily affirmations for healing and positive thinking by serenfire

peter/elias, melanie/georgie, jon/martin | T | 5k

The florist asks, “So, who should I address these flowers to?”

Martin can't seem to get the words out. This was, unequivocally, a bad idea.

Georgie gives Martin one last, wicked smile. “Write: To Peter Lukas. From Elias Bouchard.”

This was a really, terribly awful, extremely bad idea, and it’s definitely going to end with Martin’s death.

written for @pinehutch during the @tma-valentines-exchange event

read on ao3

[dickwheelie]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood Additional Tags: Set in Episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives), Marriage Proposal, Marriage, Winter, Fluff, Romance, Trans Martin Blackwood, Valentine's Day, TMA Valentine's Exchange 2021 (The Magnus Archives)

Summary:

On a cold winter’s day in the safehouse, Jon and Martin decide to get married.

Notes:

This was written for @bare1ythere for the 2021 @tma-valentines-exchange! He asked for safehouse Jonmartin, proposal/wedding, and winter-time activities, so I put them all together!

Technically, this is a slight AU where the safehouse period extends into February. Timelines? We don’t know her.

I hope you enjoy, Ben!! Happy Valentine’s! :)

[infinity-and-luck]

Happy Valentine’s @ombreblossom! I tried to combine two of your prompts, so it’s some good JonGeorgie platonic intimacy + Jon talking to her about his feelings for Martin! I hope you enjoy! You can also read it here on ao3!

The past few days have been less spending time with Jon, whom she hasn’t seen in years and more not spending time with the Admiral who has abandoned her for her ex. Not that she minded, of course, she was glad they were happy together and it’s given her some time to work on her show in peace, but she’s missed the company. After all, who doesn’t love having their cat try to stick his butt into your face while you’re working?

Some of the perks of working from home and for herself, though, were that she could a) make her own schedule and b) make time to spend with both of her boys now.

Truth be told, she had missed Jon. They’d parted on...less than favourable terms, yes, but they had good times together. They understood one another. She missed that. She missed him.

So when he had knocked on her door asking for a place to stay and hide, she let him. It was a little weird, yeah, but what wasn’t these days?

It was worth it, of course. In addition to regaining a friend and finding a new conversation partner, she’d also gotten a housecleaner even though he didn’t have to repay her but it was actually kind of nice because she hated doing dishes, so thank you.

Granted, things were a bit awkward at first, neither sure of what to say or do around each other, but they figured things out rather quickly and, after that, things became a bit more natural. She’d always enjoyed spending time with Jon, which was exactly what she was doing right now.

They were sitting on the sofa having finished watching a movie—Shaun of the Dead. There was something about moments like these that reminded her of when she and Jon had just started dating before they grew apart. Back when they used to spend quiet nights in without the pressure to be “romantic.”

Georgie’s head was nestled against Jon’s shoulder—it was a more comfortable position than one might think, especially since he was practically swimming in the hoodie she’d loaned him which made for a nice pillow—and the Admiral sat tucked between them, gently purring.

“So...you’re still not going to tell me about whatever happened at your job that’s landed you here?”

Jon tensed briefly, and Georgie took his hand in hers to provide some comfort. “It’s...complicated.”

“What did you do again? Didn’t you get a job at that Institute or whatever?” She forgot what the name was, but she thought she had done an episode on it at some point. It would’ve been an early one. She and Jon had talked about it when discussing their plans after graduating...Magnus. The Magnus Institute, she remembered.

“Yeah, uh, I am...was...the Head Archivist. A recent promotion.”

“Head….Archivist? Do you even know what you do in an archive?” Last she checked, he’d studied English.

“I mean, sort of? I kind of figured it out. Really, I have no clue why I was chosen for the job, especially when I know of others who probably would’ve done a better job.”

Georgie gently rubbed the back of Jon’s hand. “I’m sure you’ve done a good job.”

“Heh, thanks. I’ve had a lot of help obviously.”

“Ah. The ever famous Martin, yeah?” Since he’s been staying with her, Jon has mentioned Martin at least five times a day. Oh, Martin makes my tea that way or Martin always wears yellow or some other off-handed comment about some guy named Martin who seemed to be the sweetest guy imaginable. It was actually quite sweet how much he talked about him.

He nodded ever so slightly so as to not disturb her too much. “He was one of my assistants. I do feel bad sometimes. I was pretty hard on Martin at the beginning. In my defence though, he had brought a dog into the archives and I know you’re not supposed to do that.”

“Why did he bring a dog in?”

“I don’t know. I think he found it outside and was watching it? He does stuff like that a lot. Takes care of things. Goodness knows he’s taken care of me more than a number of times since we’ve met.” The corner of Jon’s mouth crept up into a smile at the memory of being at his desk, eyes barely open as he watched Martin walk out of his office after bringing him some tea and laying his coat over him like a blanket.

“He sounds lovely.”

“He is.” Georgie could feel Jon’s cheeks heat up as he said that. She didn’t mention it but she wore a smile of her own. She knew Jon had been upset by the breakup, but she had been too bitter then to reach out and fix it. Years later and she still felt bad for that. Seeing him like this though was good. Jon deserved to be happy.

The Admiral, apparently tired of the lack of attention being focused on him, moved from his spot between the two of them and started nudging his head into Jon’s side.

“Oh, sorry.” Jon gave him a scratch behind his ear before turning back to Georgie. “I want you to know that when I leave, I’m taking him with me,” he said matter-of-factly like there was no question about it.

She gasped, sitting up so she could face Jon. “You wouldn’t dare!”

“I would!”

“Well, then you better not leave.” It came out in equal parts jest and threat, but she hoped he could hear the love in it too, the please stay here for a little bit longer. I’ve missed you. The unspoken I love you that was still present between the two of them; not romantically, not anymore, but just in general. She loved Jon.

Jon laughed. It was the lightest and happiest she’s heard him sound in so long and she knew he got the message. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Yes, Georgie thought, it wasn’t bad to have Jon back at all.

[spoondrifts]

my gift for @ebenrosetaylor as part of the TMA Valentine's Exchange! hope you enjoy <33

@tma-valentines-exchange

[silver-colour]

Hello, I'm who you got for the tma valentine's exchange. I wanted to ask a few things about your prompts; Do you have any pairings that would be secondary that you would enjoy? You said you like fantasy aus but do you also enjoy urban fantasy?

Oh my gosh hello my lovely Valentine!! Thank you so much for checking in! Urban fantasy is a BIG yes 😍 all fantasy is amazing tho, however big or small or weird or relatively-normal

Re pairings: I like most pairings, except that I prefer jonmartin over jon/anyone else? (or jon being single, I know it's a Valentine's exchange but Gen fic is amazing too ♡) But other than that: go wild! I like Lonelyeyes for how funny those two are together, Daisira because duh, have you seen them, WtGirlfriends, timsasha, and im gonna stop myself there, bc honestly? many things in this podcast/fandom make me very happy,and I could go on for a long time

[voiceless-terror]

Inseparable (TMA)

For the @tma-valentines-exchange and @theotpauthor

Characters: Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Some Bullying, Canon-Typical Martin’s Mother and Jon’s Grandmother

Summary:  Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood meet as children. Some things change, others do not.

As expected, he’s going to have to eat lunch alone.

Martin surveys the school yard, the teacher behind him smiling with encouragement. It’s nice that they let them go outside, sitting alone at a table in the cafeteria seemed far more intimidating than finding a tree or a bush he could hide behind. He’s getting better at making himself small.

It’s a bright, warm day and the sun beats down on his face, he’s going to need a shady spot. He spies a tree on the far edge of the grounds; it’s tall and thick, a perfect place to hide away. He trudges down the slight incline, his bagged lunch held tight in his fist. Maybe if he asks nicely his mum will get him a lunchbox. But this’ll do for now. He’s about to sit down in a small nook of roots when a disgruntled voice pipes up from behind the tree.

“Hey!”

Martin can barely see the boy’s scowling face but he recognizes him from class: Jonathan Sims. He’s a scrawny kid almost half his size, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. Jon always raises his hand in class and interrupts others when they have the wrong answer. The other students snicker but Jon pays them no mind, more interested in getting out all the information stored in his head. Martin admires his confidence, but still. He’s a bit scary.

“This is my tree,” he sniffs, patting the ground as if planting a flag. “This is where I eat. Alone.” 

Martin feels his face burning from more than just the sun. There’s tears forming behind his eyes but he tries desperately to hold them back, the last thing he needs is a reputation as the class crybaby. 

“I’m s-sorry.” He scrambles up, casting his eyes down to the ground if only to avoid Jon’s glare. “I’ll- I’ll find somewhere else, sorry to bother.” A brief scan of the school yard reveals there really is nowhere else, unless he wants to sit in the dirt or out in the sun where everyone can see. Maybe he should find an empty classroom, or a closet or even a bathroom, just to be out of sight. But he doesn’t think the teacher will let him, and she keeps looking over. She probably just saw his rejection, and he really doesn’t want her to come over and embarrass him further. Jonathan Sims already seems to hate him.

“You can stay.” The voice interrupts his internal panic, and he looks over to find Jon studiously avoiding his gaze, staring hard at a neighboring bush. Martin wonders what caused his sudden change of heart. “But you have to sit on the other side. And don’t talk to me.”

He hurries to sit down, afraid the other boy will take it back. “Y-Yes, thank you-”

“I said don’t talk to me!”

Martin closes his mouth, cutting off the ‘sorry’ that’s already spilling from his lips. With one final glare Jon swivels back around, dropping out of sight.

Martin sighs with relief and begins to dig out his soggy peanut butter sandwich. He packed it this morning with the meager supplies in their kitchen; Mum forgot to get the groceries again, he’d have to remind her. She’s been forgetting a lot lately; the move has been hard on the both of them, but especially her. Ever since his father left they’d been moving from town to town, wherever his mum could find work. She’s working at a doctor’s office now, and hence the move to their very small flat a few blocks from school. Once again, he’s the new kid.

And of course no one talks to him. Why would they? Mum always says he’s rubbish with people, that he should try to be more outgoing. It’s not his fault his glasses are too big and his clothes are ill-fitting and he’s awkwardly taller than ‘any seven year old has the right to be’ (his mum’s words). Whenever he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a high-pitched stutter. No, better to be quiet and stay out of everyone’s way. That’s easier. That’s how his Mum likes it at home, why change it up here?

But it doesn’t make it hurt any less. His teachers are nice enough and no one’s bothered him yet. As long as he continues to keep his head down and do his homework, he’ll be fine. Who needs friends, anyway?

And he’s got a spot to eat now. Jon sits on the other side of the tree, just out of sight, saying nothing. But Martin still feels a little less lonely with him here, like they have some sort of silent truce. Jon doesn’t seem to have any friends; in fact, Martin thinks he actually has enemies. People shove him in the hallway when they’re standing in line, throw paper balls at him in class, whisper insults audibly behind his back. But Jon never reacts other than a tensing of his shoulders and a pointed look the other way. Martin wishes he could be like that.

Jon lets him sit there for the rest of the week. Martin itches to talk to him, but decides it's easier to keep his promise. Mum likes it when he’s quiet so she doesn’t have to hear his ‘inane chatter.’ Jon probably wants the same.

The next day it rains. He doesn’t know where Jon goes when he can’t sit at his tree. Martin decides to eat at the very end of a lunch table where a few other quiet kids sit. No one talks to him. He’s getting used to it.

It’s too muddy to sit outside for the next few days. No matter where he looks, he can’t find Jon. The teacher doesn’t seem to care much about Jon’s whereabouts. Martin’s heard the word ‘handful’ muttered as the teachers gather in the common space. They just let him do what he wants.

But the next Monday, there he is. Sitting at the tree, a book in hand, his lunch box conspicuously absent. It’s bright yellow with a cat on it; it looks ancient, beat up and scratched as it is. But it’s not there. Martin sits at his usual spot, fidgeting with his lunch bag. I wonder if he’s hungry. He hears the crinkle of the library book, the turn of a page. Before he can second guess himself, he gets up and steps to the forbidden other side of the tree.

Jon barely deigns to look up from his book, instead focusing more intently on the pages. Martin shuffles on his feet and fights the urge to run away before clearing his throat.

Jon looks up. “What?” he snaps, clearly irritated at the interruption.

“S-Sorry, I just saw you had no l-lunch and I-” he fumbles around in the bag until he finds what he’s looking for and offers it out to Jon with a shaking hand. “I thought you might be hungry.”

Jon stares at the applesauce like it's bound to leap out and bite him. He looks back up at Martin with a suspiciously gaze, and he fights the urge to swallow nervously. Jon’s eyes are so large, even hidden behind glasses and it’s hard to meet his stare head-on.

“Fine.” A small hand reaches up and snatches it from Martin before he can so much as blink. Jon rips open the lid like a man starving and instead of asking for a spoon, opts to slurp at it like it's some sort of milkshake.

Martin stares at him open-mouthed as Jon scrunches his face in distaste and complains. “Ugh. Who gets applesauce without cinnamon?” He finishes it anyway and hands the crumpled plastic back to Martin in under a minute. He takes it, stupefied, as Jon picks up his book and goes back to reading, once again ignoring Martin. Well then.

Martin feels like he’s approached a feral cat and come back without a scratch. He takes his usual spot on the other side, mechanically biting into a peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and wonders if he can convince his mum to buy the good kind of applesauce when he hears the words, barely audible.

“Thank you.” It’s the softest he’s ever heard Jon’s voice go.

“You’re welcome,” he replies, equally as quiet. Jon says nothing else, but Martin will take this as a win.

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[eternalbattoru]

my tma valentines exchange gift for @eggdoesartsometimes !!

heres agnes & gertrude having the archive romance they deserved <3

[flustru]

fantasy au timsasha for @morosexualhoratio as part of the @tma-valentines-exchange! Happy Valentine’s Day :)

[eye-rearts]

my tma valentines exchange for @apcwoc !! (yeah this is why I didn't want to say even bare minimum what I was doing for this yesterday askdshjdhsskhd) I just went with the first prompt you gave so have some pre-eye-hellscape knife wives !!

@tma-valentines-exchange

[vanroesburg]

wtgfs roller derby times for @sansculotted for the @tma-valentines-exchange! hope you like your gift and happy valentines!

[Image ID: A digital drawing of Georgie and Melanie roller skating. Georgie is a tall black woman with braids, wearing a purple and white tank top and black shorts. Her purple helmet has an eye shield and a white skull on the side. Her face is in profile facing Melanie, her legs close together, with one arm bent in front of her and the other angled out with the hand near Melanie. Melanie is an east asian woman of average build with bright blue hair, wearing a red shirt and jean shorts. Her red helmet has a face shield. She is looking at Georgie, her helmet hiding most of her eyes. Her body is partially turned towards Georgie, with her elbows held close to her sides, with one skate forward and the other lifted off the ground behind her. They are both smiling widely, and both wearing elbow, hand, and knee guards. The background shows a rough concrete rink with brick walls and a shadow of bleachers off to the right. End ID.]

[barnabos]

[Image Description: A digital drawing of Jon Sims aka The Archivist from The Magnus Archives. He is a thin indian man with long black hair tied back into a bun and stubble visible on his face. He is wearing gold glasses with a chain, a black button up, a long brown skirt, and a green cloak. He’s lifting his skirt slightly and looking to the right with a content expression. A comic bubble on the right shows Martin’s head, reacting with a heart exclamation point. End Image Description.] This year I participated in The Magnus Archives Valentine’s Gift Exchange! Here’s my submission, which is a gift for @horizonindigo ! One of their prompts was nonbinary Jon wearing fashionable clothes, which I had wanted to do anyway, so here’s a Jon being a fashion icon uwu.

[tma-valentines-exchange]

Interest Check is OPEN!

TMA Valentine’s Exchange is an upcoming fan exchange event for The Magnus Archives podcast. It is scheduled to take place in 2021 with a creation period between January and February. If you’re interested in taking part in this, please spare a couple of minutes to fill out this form!

Link: https://forms.gle/wFuaeBG3cmG94Wh98 

Interest check will be open from 18 Oct to 20 Nov. If there is enough interest, we can go ahead with this project so please do help to spread the word!

Carrd | Schedule | FAQ | Mod Apps

[toothflowers]

My gift for @queerdistortion as part of the @tma-valentines-exchange !!!!

I hope I did alright with them for you! Valentines stuff is always so fun to drawww and I will ALWAYS take an opportunity   to draw Michael Dominic has a fun design too! Happy Valentine’s day!