tmaappreciationweek

[tmaappreciationweek]

The finished version of day 2 of @tmaappreciationweek! Took wayyyyyy too long to get done (mostly because I started college about three weeks ago), but here they are! The girls✨

Sketch

[tmaappreciationweek]

Chapters: 1/1 Words: 4,397 Fandom: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan “Jon” Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Pre-Canon, Missing Scene

I wrote this for @tmaappreciationweek (Day 1 Prompts: Favorite Main Character(s) and Pre-Canon) and only now got around to editing and posting it 🙈 Woe, Martin’s ice cream birthday outing be upon ye

Fic Summary:

Jon stumbled, tripped, and fell into a leadership role that he had no business even looking at in the first place. But the job is his, and he needs his new assistants to believe he’s worthy of it so very, very badly. It also just so happens that Martin (ugh) has a birthday coming up. So he formulates a cunning plan: take them all out for ice cream to secure their undying favor and appreciation.

Surely this will go smoothly.

[tmaappreciationweek]

quick doodle for @tmaappreciationweek :-)

combined the headcanon, favourite ship and s3 prompts because i will be sad about jontim always and forever ❤️ hc is that they were a thing in ye olde research days but then archives happened so. yeah.

[tmaappreciationweek]

This little Jontim was technically created for @tmaappreciationweek (prompt: Pre-Canon) It took me much longer than planned to get it read, but it’s here now.

Jontim, pre-canon, wine drunk kissing while trying to ignore the fact that next Monday you’ll be boss-employee

A prequel/missing scene to all the days of our delight are poison in my veins

[tmaappreciationweek]

For the last day of @tmaappreciationweek, I've done a Somewhere Else statement fic! It's okay, it's a happy ending 💜

[CLICK]

[MUFFLED MEOWS, MORE DISTINCT PURRING, FOOTSTEPS]

[VOICES INCREASING IN VOLUME]

JON

[excitedly] Martin, look at this one!

MARTIN

Jon, you've said that about the last four cats we've looked at!

JON

But this one is perfect!

[FOND LAUGHTER]

MARTIN

If you say so, love.

[SOFT MEOW]

JON

[quietly] You're so soft, and oh so fluffy. [louder] I think his fur is almost the same color as your hair.

MARTIN

[sighing fondly] We're taking him home then, are we?

[LOUD PURRING]

[FOOTSTEPS]

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

Oh, I see you found our newest residents!

JON AND MARTIN

[together] Residents?

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

Yep! They're a bonded pair. The orange cat is usually in front, hiding the black cat. The black cat, poor guy, looks like he's been through a few alley wars. But it's a good sign the orange one likes you—we've been calling him Marmalade, and the black cat Blackberry, one of our kid volunteers was on a toast-themed naming kick that weekend.

[LAUGHTER]

SHELTER EMPLOYEE

I know, I know. They don't yet seem very attached to those names, though, so you'll be able to change them fairly easily. I'm Tabitha, by the way—I'm just going to clean some of the kitten cages while they're out in the day room. Let me know if you need anything!

MARTIN

[distracted] Thanks. 

[PAUSE]

MARTIN

Is it just me, or does the shadow in the back have eyes?

JON

[snorting] That's probably Blackberry. Oh, Martin! He's coming toward us! Quick, put your fingers by the bars.

MARTIN

Yes, dear.

JON

No need to be rude in front of the cats.

[SNORTING]

[PAUSE]

MARTIN

[softly, full of concern] He's very skinny, and it looks like there's spots where his fur isn't quite growing right. 

JON

[equally soft] Just means we'll have to give him lots of love.

MARTIN

Well, we know you have plenty of that to go round.

[FABRIC RUSTLES]

MARTIN

H-hey! Careful there! Shoving me made Blackberry here unhappy.

JON

[muttering] Blackberry. [louder] We need to find them new names.

[LOUD MEOWING]

JON

[laughing] I think they agree.

MARTIN

So, we're taking them home? 

JON

[happily] Yeah, we are. 

MARTIN

I'll go get Tabitha, see what paperwork we have to do. Then I'll go get the carrier from the car. Hopefully, they'll let us get away with the one, since I wasn't expecting two cats. [voice gets softer] Although I probably should have, knowing you.

JON

He's a lot of bluster, don't worry. He's very happy with you both, too, I know. 

[RUMBLING]

JON

Tim will have a field day, though. I don't know how I'm going to live this one down, not on top of him being right about Martin and I hitting it off on a blind date. [laughing] It's been four years, you think he'd let it go. 

[MEOWING]

JON

Marmalade, you haven't even met Tim yet! Sasha will love you, though, she's always wanted a fluffy cat. Oh, and Georgie will be so jealous—she's still sad the Admiral never got as fluffy as she thought he would when he was a kitten.

[SOFTER, CROAKY MEOW]

JON

Why, hello there Blackberry. Yes, I'm more than happy to scratch your ears with my other hand. Four hands in our house means plenty of pets, that's for sure. And since both of our jobs have stayed work-from-home, there's lots of time for cuddling. Oh, well, you both seem quite good at that already. It's very sweet of you to clean Blackberry's head, Marmalade.

[CROAKY MEOW, RUMBLING]

[FOOTSTEPS COMING BACK]

JON

We really will need to give you better names. Don't worry, I've got a list—you'll just have to meow to tell me which ones you like. Sound fair?

[MEOWING]

MARTIN

Convincing them to go along with your plans already? Hardly fair, love.

[MUFFLED KISS]

JON

You know they'll love you more than me anyway. I've got to gain an advantage somehow.

[OFFENDED MEOW]

[LAUGHTER]

[FOOTSTEPS]

TABITHA

Ready to take these guys home?

JON

Absolutely.

TABITHA

Great! Let's get that paperwork done.

MARTIN

We'll be right back, and then, home.

[FOOTSTEPS RECEDE]

[RUMBLING, TWO SOFT MEOWS]

[CLICK]

[tmaappreciationweek]

@tmaappreciationweek Day 5: What If? What if they kissed after Jon went to America, huh?? What if?????

Martin first realized how desperately he wanted to kiss Jon in the aftermath of what was apparently his second kidnapping. He'd gingerly helped clean and rebandage Jon's wounds, touched Jon's skin as little as possible, and made them both tea as they sat in the quiet, dim break room. Looking over the brim of his mug, he'd been struck with the feeling, that he'd like to kiss it all better for Jon. He hadn't been unaware of his feelings before that, of course, but it was something akin to being hit by a truck, and he'd choked on his tea. Jon's subsequent frown and murmured, "Okay?" had done unfair things to Martin's heart. But Jon was thoroughly traumatized, couldn't handle skin contact at all—Martin had accidentally touched a finger when passing over tea, and he'd almost completely broken down. So Martin tied his feelings in a series of complicated knots and dropped them into the sea—they were far from relevant right now.  Then, the phone calls. So many phone calls while Jon was in America, nearly every night, and the intimacy had grown. What started as relatively stilted, mostly on-topic phone calls had given way to casual, friendly conversation, and then soft mutterings of, "I miss you." So Martin had made up his mind. He wouldn't push, of course, but with the potential end of the world from clowns and mannequins looming over their heads, he'd decided there was no point in holding back his feelings, in at least saying aloud the growing affection in his ribs—affection he had started to hope was returned. Looking at Jon now, Martin's holding onto every piece of remaining courage he has. Jon's smile is soft and a bit sleepy, but his eyes are shining as they sit down for tea, as though this is routine. Jon is telling a story about his flight back, something about a seat partner who didn't believe in sharing arm rests, and Martin is grinning. The words don't matter, not really, just that Jon is here, telling this story, and that Martin can see he's alive and whole and not kidnapped again. Christ, Martin loves him. Martin chokes on his tea, reminiscent of that night weeks ago, when the intensity of his desire to comfort Jon had lighted itself upon him. "Martin?" Jon asks, eyebrows furrowing and one hand reaching out for Martin. "Are you all right?" Still coughing a bit, Martin nods frantically, trying to clear his throat. He stumbles over his words a few times, but somehow manages to convince Jon that he's not dying from his own tea. (That would've been embarrassing.) Whatever else Jon was going to have said, his face curves into a fond smile, and the lines around his mouth crinkle as he says, "I missed you." Giving one more cough, this one mostly to cover his embarrassment, Martin repeats softly, "I missed you, too." "O-oh," Jon says, eyes widening in surprise a bit, but he looks delighted. "R-really?" Martin laughs, he can't help it. "Of course, Jon," Martin replies, still smiling. He could leave it here, let the moment pass, but Jon's eyes—happy, surprised, a little sad—spur him on, and Martin yanks on the bundle of courage he'd amassed. "I'm mad about you, you know." Jon seems to have no idea what to say to this, and Martin can feel himself getting redder and redder as the seconds tick by.  He's considering retracting his words—well, not exactly, but trying to smooth them over and then make as graceful an exit as possible—when Jon stands abruptly.  Martin realizes the enormity of his fuck-up and begins to apologize, but the words die on his tongue when Jon stops in front of Martin's chair. Jon places his hands atop Martin's shoulders and then he's kissing Martin, and Martin finds he doesn't care one wit about an apology.

[tmaappreciationweek]

@tmaappreciationweek Day 5: What If? What if they kissed after Jon went to America, huh?? What if?????

Martin first realized how desperately he wanted to kiss Jon in the aftermath of what was apparently his second kidnapping. He'd gingerly helped clean and rebandage Jon's wounds, touched Jon's skin as little as possible, and made them both tea as they sat in the quiet, dim break room. Looking over the brim of his mug, he'd been struck with the feeling, that he'd like to kiss it all better for Jon. He hadn't been unaware of his feelings before that, of course, but it was something akin to being hit by a truck, and he'd choked on his tea. Jon's subsequent frown and murmured, "Okay?" had done unfair things to Martin's heart. But Jon was thoroughly traumatized, couldn't handle skin contact at all—Martin had accidentally touched a finger when passing over tea, and he'd almost completely broken down. So Martin tied his feelings in a series of complicated knots and dropped them into the sea—they were far from relevant right now.  Then, the phone calls. So many phone calls while Jon was in America, nearly every night, and the intimacy had grown. What started as relatively stilted, mostly on-topic phone calls had given way to casual, friendly conversation, and then soft mutterings of, "I miss you." So Martin had made up his mind. He wouldn't push, of course, but with the potential end of the world from clowns and mannequins looming over their heads, he'd decided there was no point in holding back his feelings, in at least saying aloud the growing affection in his ribs—affection he had started to hope was returned. Looking at Jon now, Martin's holding onto every piece of remaining courage he has. Jon's smile is soft and a bit sleepy, but his eyes are shining as they sit down for tea, as though this is routine. Jon is telling a story about his flight back, something about a seat partner who didn't believe in sharing arm rests, and Martin is grinning. The words don't matter, not really, just that Jon is here, telling this story, and that Martin can see he's alive and whole and not kidnapped again. Christ, Martin loves him. Martin chokes on his tea, reminiscent of that night weeks ago, when the intensity of his desire to comfort Jon had lighted itself upon him. "Martin?" Jon asks, eyebrows furrowing and one hand reaching out for Martin. "Are you all right?" Still coughing a bit, Martin nods frantically, trying to clear his throat. He stumbles over his words a few times, but somehow manages to convince Jon that he's not dying from his own tea. (That would've been embarrassing.) Whatever else Jon was going to have said, his face curves into a fond smile, and the lines around his mouth crinkle as he says, "I missed you." Giving one more cough, this one mostly to cover his embarrassment, Martin repeats softly, "I missed you, too." "O-oh," Jon says, eyes widening in surprise a bit, but he looks delighted. "R-really?" Martin laughs, he can't help it. "Of course, Jon," Martin replies, still smiling. He could leave it here, let the moment pass, but Jon's eyes—happy, surprised, a little sad—spur him on, and Martin yanks on the bundle of courage he'd amassed. "I'm mad about you, you know." Jon seems to have no idea what to say to this, and Martin can feel himself getting redder and redder as the seconds tick by.  He's considering retracting his words—well, not exactly, but trying to smooth them over and then make as graceful an exit as possible—when Jon stands abruptly.  Martin realizes the enormity of his fuck-up and begins to apologize, but the words die on his tongue when Jon stops in front of Martin's chair. Jon places his hands atop Martin's shoulders and then he's kissing Martin, and Martin finds he doesn't care one wit about an apology.

[tmaappreciationweek]

For @tmaappreciationweek Day 4: Favorite Ship, here's a wee lil snippet of jmart cuteness

Jon’s hunched over his desk, face far too close to the papers to actually be able to see them, and he’s muttering a bit to himself. Mugs of steaming tea in hand, Martin makes his way into the office, smiling fondly at his husband as some of the words escape containment.  “What’ve the papers done to you now?” Martin teases as he sets Jon’s mug down on its knitted coaster, a lovely bright blue so it can always be found in the clutter.  “Grading is the worst,” Jon complains and stretches with a groan. “I’ve had to do it all day, and I’m losing my mind.” Martin chuckles and stomps down on his urge to make a joke. He instead rubs one of Jon’s shoulders with his free hand. “How can I help?” Jon sighs and looks up at Martin. “I really don’t know.” Martin hums and then presses a quick kiss to the tip of Jon’s nose. “I heard your muttering when I came in, and you know nose kisses are never too much to ask.” He drops another one on Jon’s forehead to prove his point.  Like a cat, Jon melts under the affection. 

[tmaappreciationweek]

A day late, here's my ficlet for @tmaappreciationweek Day 3: Alternate Universe. It's inspired by this tumblr post

Jon's had several centuries now to come to terms with both his immortality and his all-encompassing but unrequited infatuation with one Martin Blackwood. The immortality, you can imagine, was much easier to grasp. When he was a boy, his grandmother had told him tales of the bloodsucking monsters in the hills, and Jon had the misfortune to not properly believe her and be full of unquenchable curiosity. He'd mostly abided by her rules as a child, having had one close call that instead claimed a neighbor, but in adulthood, he had found an excuse to travel into the hills in search of something or other for his village—he can't even remember properly anymore.  Going on a thousand years later, he's still paying for it. He supposes that's why he's madly in love with Martin, a kind of exquisite cosmic torture for his sins. He'll love this man until the end of time and crave a kind of intimacy he cannot have that surpasses the cravings for blood. Chalking most of the negative things in his very long life up to paying for his sins has become so standard that, the moment he recognizes his handwriting in a display case, he immediately wonders if this will finally be the moment he's earned forgiveness for his foolishness as a young man. Jon and Martin had met up for their usual Saturday afternoon excursion, this time revisiting a museum to see a new exhibit on Victorian era letters and documents. Martin had joked as they walked in that he hoped he'd see one of his early poems here, since he'd lost a whole wooden box of them during a move a hundred years ago. They've been wandering slowly through the exhibit, Martin's arm looped through Jon's in the casual way they've developed, and have recognized the handwriting of a few other vampires they've come to know, but so far, none of Martin's poems. Until they come across Jon's handwriting instead. "Jon?" Martin asks, using his free hand to point to it. "That's…that's your—" He trails off, eyes glued to the words on the aged page.  It's a letter Jon thought he'd burned over 150 years ago, and what little color his skin carries now is flushed away as he remembers the agony under which he'd penned it.  He and Martin had spent the day at the World's Fair, much like this day at the museum, and there had been a moment when one of Jon's remarks had been returned by Martin with such affection that Jon had dared to hope. He wrote all of his burning feelings out on the page and determined to give it to Martin on their next meeting. The exact words Martin had said that made Jon hold back the letter have been forgotten now, but Jon remembers the coldness that spread through his limbs as Martin made a remark about the solidity and dependability of their friendship. Jon had never given the letter over. And now, it's here, his own handwriting laying him bare in this very public space. "That's—that's me," Martin is whispering now, getting closer to the display to read the words again, his expression hungry. Then he turns to Jon, eyes wide. "Jon, what…?" Jon takes a deep breath, even as meaningless as oxygen is for his system now, but nothing comes out of his mouth. He tries a few times, opening and closing it, and he scrutinizes Martin's expression as he does so.  He has absolutely no idea what's going on in his friend's mind, and terror takes root in his soul. Is he about to lose his best friend? "All this time, and you've never told me?" Martin finally breaks the silence, stepping close to Jon. "You really felt that way?" Jon nods, a lump in his throat now.  "D-do you…" At least seeing an opening, Jon dives into it headfirst. "I have loved you for hundreds of years," he says softly, taking a step to fill the decreasing gap between them. "How could I not, Martin?" Martin, eyes wide and flashing, smiles brightly back. "You idiot," he says, and then leans down to kiss Jon.

[tmaappreciationweek]

@tmaappreciationweek Day 2: Celebrations! First, shoutout to @artificialdaydreamer for adding Celebrations to today's prompt list because, second, it's my birthday!! I'm so excited to share this ficlet, and I hope y'all enjoy a lil celebration in the archives 💜

A quick two-tap knock to the door pulls Jon's attention from the mirror and he glances over.  "Ready?" He nods a few times and lets his eyes wander back to his reflection, scrutinizing the loose curls around his face. This is the longest he's let his hair get in over a decade, and he's still not sure it fits his face. "You're gorgeous," Martin laughs, stepping up behind Jon and pressing a kiss to Jon's temple as he wraps his arms around Jon. "We're going to be late if you try to redo your hair again." Jon sighs, fidgeting with Martin's fingers where the rest on his waist. "I know, I know. I just—" "—want everything to go right, I know," Martin finishes for him, his voice soft and fond. "And it will, so long as the man of the hour isn't late to his own party." Jon makes eye contact with Martin's reflection and smiles ruefully. Martin's eyes are crinkling more than ever now, some gray visible in his auburn hair—he jokes he finally matches Jon, although Jon is more gray than brown after all these years. He looks at home in his body, joy lining his face more than sorrow or fear now.  And they fit together like puzzles pieces after all these years, second nature to learn into each other. Before pulling away, Jon twirls in Martin's arms and wraps his arms around Martin's neck. They're of a height, so all Jon has to do is lean forward and he's meeting Martin's soft, warm lips for a few stolen kisses. "Let's not keep our friends waiting," he says, as he leans back, squeezing Martin's hand a few times.  "Happy birthday, love," Martin says softly and kisses his temple again.

[tmaappreciationweek]

For @tmaappreciationweek Day 1: Favorite Character, I give you a ficlet with Jon and a Somewhere Else cat! For @artificialdaydreamer, without whom Sasha cat wouldn't exist 💜💜💜

Jon started baking breads in the aftermath of well, everything with the Institute, and it's become a sort of tradition for him to make fresh scones for Christmas. In previous years, it's been a relatively quiet affair—Martin's off at work, so Jon can essentially do what he wants in the kitchen. He would turn on music, spread out around the counters, and use the table for rolling out the dough. This year, though, he contemplates the small space with narrowed eyes, hands on his hips as he mentally surveys Sasha's usual haunts. She's taken to sitting on a kitchen chair while Jon cooks, venturing up onto the table occasionally. She has only once tried to make a break for the counter with food on it, and she managed to successfully stick her whole face into freshly whipped cream. He sighs. There's no two ways about it. If he wants to get these scones made successfully, she'll need to be kept away from the kitchen. He's going to have to bribe her. And after getting everything ready on the counter, he does just that. Laying treats across the length of the living room may be a bit excessive, all things considered, but what Martin doesn't know won't hurt him, Jon reasons, shrugging to himself as Sasha leaps from treat to treat, devouring them. Jon gets to work quickly, measuring and combining ingredients in now familiar motions. He cranes his neck to check on Sasha a few times, and she's either eating the treats or playing with them. It's working out far better than he'd expected, honestly. At least, until the very end. Jon's gotten the dough rolled out and cut into circles, but he forgot to line the baking sheet with parchment paper. He swears quietly to himself as he digs the roll out and tears off a square. When he turns back to the table, parchment-covered sheet in hand, he finds Sasha perched delicately on the table, looking up at him with her wide eyes, one paw print in the middle of a scone. He laughs as he scrambles for his phone, wanting to capture this to show Martin. After a few quick pictures (because why take just one when she's this cute?), he crosses the space in a few steps and scratches behind her ear. Her purr rumbles up at him and he smiles. "Well, at least it was only one. We'll save that one for your dad, shall we?" Her tiny meow is the perfect response.

[tmaappreciationweek]

quick doodle for @tmaappreciationweek :-)

combined the headcanon, favourite ship and s3 prompts because i will be sad about jontim always and forever ❤️ hc is that they were a thing in ye olde research days but then archives happened so. yeah.

[tmaappreciationweek]

Day 6 of @tmaappreciationweek , Scottish safe house I am not immune to the safe house coming out fic

[tmaappreciationweek]

That's a wrap, folks!

Thanks to everyone who participated this year, this event would not exist without you all. It has been amazing to see how creative and talented you all are, and what you've come up with. I cannot thank you all enough.

For those who weren't able to participate, or who couldn't finish what they were working on in time, I will still share your contributions, no matter how late they are. Be sure to use the #TMAappretiationweek tag and please tag the blog @tmaappreciationweek because sometimes things don't appear in the tags.

Once again, thank you all so much!

[tmaappreciationweek]

Okay take some shitty doodles for all the prompts.

Fav major character + pre canon: University Jon (i love this guy)

Fav minor character: Callum brodie. Im fixated on the fucker

Alternate universe: Dragon!Jon and Dark avatar Jon

Headcanons: Bigender tim with top surgery (he/she)

Original characters: Desolation avatar with adhd and autism. Is the water aspect of the desolation (floods, tsunamis, that kinda thing). Pronouns: It/Flood, grew up around oceans.

Favourite entity: The Dark

Favourite avatar: Helen Distortion.

Send me an ask if you want me to elaborate on any of these I will gladly do so!!

Anyways @tmaappreciationweek

[tmaappreciationweek]

Thanks to everyone who participated! I’ll make a formal wrap-up post tomorrow.

This doesn’t mean I won’t share more things people make, so if you missed a prompt and still want to participate feel free!

[tmaappreciationweek]

Season 5

I finally have motivation again :D