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saintbleeding · 8 months

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[ID: Two digital drawings of Jon and Martin from TMA. In the first, Martin, a short, fat white man with greying brown hair and wearing glasses, a white t-shirt, and green boxer shorts, gazes with his face resting on his fist at Jon, a tall, thin man with curly silver hair, medium brown skin, and many scars. Both have books in their hands, but only Jon appears to actually be reading. In the second drawing, Jon has one arm around Martin’s shoulders, gazing lovingly at Martin as he laughs. Jon is now wearing Martin’s shirt from the first drawing. In the background there are hearts around Martin in the first drawing, and around Jon in the second. End ID.]

their asses ARE gazing lovingly the second the other one looks away*

*jon often gets caught**

**on purpose

#tma #the magnus archives #jonmartin #jmart #tma art #jon sims #martin blackwood #ask to tag!!#is this safehouse. is it post canon. well actually the truth is [static]#my #saint draws #i missed them!!!!!! anyway goodnight xoxo

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saym0-0 · 3 months

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i was listening to jukebox the ghost, as one does, and,,,, Somewhere Else jmart,,, martin singing along badly when fred astaire comes on,, 'those eyes damn those eyes, they can do no crime' ,,,,, ignore me im emotional,,, dancing badly in the kitchen,,, horribly domestic jmart im WEAK

#jmart #jonmartin #tma #the magnus archives #tma somewhere else #jukebox the ghost #post canon #jon x martin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood

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cirrus-grey · 2 years

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One thing I gotta say I love about this whole "magnus archives two" hint is that, no matter what Rusty Quill announces on Oct 30th, they're either going to have:

A. Large numbers of angry fans screaming "Noooo! We don't want a sequel, put it back!!!"

B. Large numbers of angry fans screaming "Noooo! We were promised a sequel, give it to us!!!"

#either way‚ SOMEONE'S going to feel cheated #the magnus archives #my magnus archives stuff #original post #statement remains #for my own part ive realized over the course of the day that id be happy with additional canon content #...but only if it doesnt force the entities back into jmart's lives #tell me that theyre alive tell me that theyre somewhere else #but please for the love of god tell me that they can REST #theyve had enough misery to last a lifetime #500 notes!

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samwise1548 · 1 year

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Jon gives a passing thought to his old clothes Somewhere Else

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[ID: A pencil and paper sketch of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood walking hand in hand, while the latter holds a paper bag of groceries. Jon is wearing a large cardigan over a turtleneck, and pajama bottoms that are much too big on him. Arrows point to each of these articles of clothing, letting us know that they are all Martin's originally. Jon is looking off to the left, contemplatively, and says "Huh, I wonder where my tweed jacket went. I haven't worn it in a while." To which his spouse laughs and says sarcastically, "Gee, I wonder why that is." Jon responds "Me too." not catching Martin's sarcasm. \End ID]

#the idea came from anothr idea of post canon Jon wearing his s1 wardrobe #since i never draw him in anything thats not owned by martin after that point #also i wanted to experiment with how i think jon and martin would style their hair in somewhere else #jon gets midlength hiar in a ponytail cuz thats what i love drawinf him in #(and also thats my hair basically hehe)#and martin gets a growinf buzz cuz i think hed enjoy that but also i need to show that its been a bit since the cut #idk im picky #might do a digital thing to acrually flush the designs out maybe #rant over #tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #jonmartin #fabric rustles #my art #my doodles

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gayghostrights · 17 days

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jonmartin week collection:

@jonmartinweek is over! I somehow managed to not only write something for every day but also by some miracle managed to get them all posted on time (the miracle is procrastination, it's been a really busy week in the real world and writing fanfiction is more fun than writing academic essays.)

Here's a master list of all nine!

Day One [first kiss]: My head is screaming words that I just don't wanna repeat

day two [outsider POV]: Hard to watch, hard to look away.

day three[nightmares]: I think I'm growing into someone you could trust

day four [tea as a love language]: I promise to take care of you if you promise to let me

day five [cryptids]: I was a wreck and you were the saviour type

day six [ace day]: I can’t read you but if you want the pleasures all mine

day seven [Eldridge powers]: don’t ask, cause I never could tell (all I need it four walls to make it my own hell)

day eight [Martin’s poetry]: all the lines you traced through my like like cursive poetry in sunlight

day nine[free day]: somethings bound to break

I had a lot of fun writing all of these! Thank you so much to everyone who read my work!

#highly recommend all of the songs the titles are from as most of them are jonmartin as fuck #also this post is also a way for me to procrastinate oops #Writing-wise day nine is my favourite but I am very fond of day one & two cause I think I got their voices right and they fit well in canon #fanfiction masterlist #jonmartin #jonmartin week #jonmartin week 2024 #written by me #teaholding #jmart #jmart fic #tma jmart #jonmartin fanfic #jonmartin fanfiction #jonmartin fic #i also have a rejects pile (also a Georgie & Jon fic and wtgf fic that i wrote intending for it to be jmart but changed direction)#so i'll be sifting through those and hopefully posting more fic soon

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honeysunspots · 10 months

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The pain in your head only grows, but now you are able to move your limbs. To stretch your sinews. You move slowly, wringing out your muscles. Your body aches. The moment your feet touch the floor, so do the other man’s. The brown of his shoes clash with his khakis in a way you should find annoying, but instead find endearing. You are barefoot. The wood is rough under your soles. When you stand, you swear you can taste the color of the warm ceiling lights on your tongue, like tangerine and chlorine and newly dead stars.

'What’s your name?' You ask him.

'You don’t remember.’ He responds. A fact, not a question.

'So?'

'You never do. I could tell you my name a thousand times and you would forget each one.'

'Tell me again anyway.'

�� The Fractalization of Jonathan Sims

Read the rest: here

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jmart #fluff #angst #post canon #fanfic #fanfiction #somewhere else

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journalofimprobablethings · 1 year

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Jon sings a song for Martin on their wedding day.

(aka still thinking about these boys and The Amazing Devil songs, this time the song is "Fair")

you can also read the full fic on ao3 here!

It’s what my heart just yearns to say In ways that can’t be said It’s what my rotting bones will sing When the rest of me is dead

It’s what’s engraved upon my heart In letters deeply worn Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

Jon and Martin have agreed that they don't want anything complicated for their wedding. They've planned a simple ceremony on the rooftop of Gerry's bookshop (it's convenient, to have a friend who owns a building that already has a rooftop garden), with just their small circle of friends, drinks and dinner ordered from their favorite Indian restaurant to follow. Nothing fancy.

(Jon had suggested at first that they just go to the courthouse and have the judge say the words. Quick, efficient, and then they could be married .)

(He still has trouble sometimes, having faith in the future, not being worried that anything good will be snatched away from them if they don't hold onto it tight enough.)

(Now, when Jon imagines Martin standing across from him in the garden, with Tim and Sasha and Gerry and Danny all there to witness, his breath catches in his chest, and he knows that he was right to let Martin persuade him.)

He and Martin have agreed that they don't want anything fancy.

But Jon can't stop thinking that he still wants to do something special. He's not sure what it would be—but he wants to do something that can express even a fraction of what this day and Martin mean to him.

It comes to him on an otherwise bad day. He's in bed, has been all day, the pain in his legs and his back too much to even consider getting up. It still happens, sometimes, even though his physical therapist has said that he's made vast improvements since his and Martin's somewhat bloody and violent arrival. It turns out that in this world, he is once more completely human–-with all the aches and pains and lack of supernatural healing that come with it.

So he's in bed, listening to music to try and take his mind off the wreckage that is his body. Old, familiar albums, ones he's listened to a thousand times over since they've arrived. And then he hits a song that he's listened to so many times and always loved (and always cried at, privately, when he thinks Martin isn't looking) and it all just—clicks.

Cos outwardly he says I try so hard to make you laugh at me And she, she does, she laughs as though she not heard the joke ten thousand times before And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time Oh darling please be mine

The song is soft and tender, and the singer's voice cracks in places, dips to barely a whisper in others.

She promises to fight them all when it all becomes too much And he, he curses at the world for leaving him behind and he’s falling out of touch And she is stronger than he’s ever been he knows And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

Jon thinks of how he and Martin hold each other—

on the good days, when Jon can spend hours counting the freckles on Martin's face, when Martin runs his fingers softly through Jon's hair, and they actually allow themselves to believe the miracle of the fact that they are here, together—

and on the bad days, when the world is too much, too loud, when Martin retreats into the soft seclusion of their bedroom, and Jon sits next to him in silence, their fingers intertwined as a reminder that he's not alone; or when Jon wakes from a nightmare and Martin holds him close until he stops shaking—

And when they’re sure no-one can hear them She’ll turn to him to say, she’ll turn to him and say

And Jon sings along softly to the next words, and he knows what he wants to do for Martin on their wedding day.

It’s not fair, It’s not fair how much I love you It’s not fair, cos you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something

And he’ll say Oh how oh how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m standing here maybe everyone will think I’m alright

He finds a guitar in a secondhand shop, on a shopping trip while Martin is at work, and he persuades Tim to let him store it at his place and practice there a day or two a week, under the guise of Jon finally teaching Tim how to cook.

(They try one lesson, just to keep up the excuse. But Tim is impatient and Jon is exacting, and they end up ordering takeout for dinner that night.)

Practicing is slow going. Jon had learned to play guitar, once upon a time while he was at university. He never played it well—he'd always been more of a singer than an instrumentalist, and when he and his uni friends had started a band they had quickly determined that he was a better front-man if he didn't have to worry about slinging a guitar around his neck—but he learned a few basic chords, and some the muscle memory is still there, even after all these years.

His burned hand causes him some trouble. His dexterity is not nearly what it was, and the scar tissue has affected the nerve endings in his fingers, so the strings feel foreign and strange against his fingertips.

Strumming comes easier, though it's not entirely painless. Fingerpicking is the difficulty, and there are a few times, as he practices, that he nearly throws the guitar across the room in his frustration.

But Jon has always been stubborn, and he is determined to get this right. And so he keeps trying.

The end result he gets to, when he finally decides he's satisfied, is not nearly as smooth or flawless as he would like. There's a little stiltedness to it, as he persuades his hand to move through the picking pattern. But the notes are in order, and the rhythm is passable.

And this song isn't about the guitar anyway, he tells himself. For this song, it's the words that really matter.

I’ve seen enough he says I know exactly what I want And it’s this life that we’ve created, inundated with the fated thought of you And if you asked me to, if you asked me I would lose it all Like petals in a storm, cos darling I was born

To press my head between your shoulder blades at night when light is fading Just to let you know I’m old, waylaid and feels like I am wading into carpet burns and carousels oh Christ you’ll be the death of me And calm throughout his melodrama she will turn and say ‘dear heart It’s me, its me You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not Cos it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore And for some god forsaken reason I’m still here love like I’ve always been before

And he’ll say It’s not fair, It's not fair how much I love you It’s not fair cos you make me weep when I’m just trying to watch The Office with my yoghurt And she’ll say Oh how, oh how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m standing next to you then maybe everyone will think I’m cool

The day comes, and Jon isn't sure what he's more nervous about: the wedding itself, or the song. The preparations on the day are at once full of excitement and oddly unceremonious—he and Martin are banned from the setup process by joint decree of Tim and Sasha, so they spend the morning together on the sofa, pretending to read, then they help each other get dressed. Jon only gets a little choked up as he helps Martin tie his tie, and tucks a sprig of honeysuckle into his lapel.

The ceremony is short and simple. Gerry officiates. They exchange rings, and vows. They both cry.

And then Tim gets up, and brings Jon his guitar. A momentary confusion flickers over Martin's face before his eyes widen in realization, and he presses a hand to his mouth as Sasha brings a chair over for Jon to sit.

He had thought of what he wanted to say, before he started the song—but he finds on looking at Martin that he can't get the words out. Or that is, he knows that if he says what he's feeling now, he will not be able to sing afterwards.

So instead he just says, "Martin, I'd like to play you something."

And Jon leans forward, stretches his fingers of his right hand to loosen them, and begins to play.

He manages to make it through the song with his voice mostly intact, but only by focusing on the chords and his fingers, only watching Martin out of the corner of his eye. He cracks a bit on this life that we've created —and he sees Martin's breath hitch at that one, too.

In the last verse, he lets his voice go soft, and he finally looks up and meets Martin's eyes. He's holding himself together admirably, but his eyes are swimming with tears, and his lips tremble a little even as he's smiling.

How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do, Jon sings, looking at Martin, and he can feel his voice start to go. I’ll spend my days so close to you comes out with a wobble, and by the time he gets to the last few lines, he's whispering.

cos if I’m stood here Then I’m stood here And I’ll stand here I’ll stand here with you

Jon lets the last note ring from the guitar for a moment, and then Tim is there, ready to take the guitar from him so he can stand and catch Martin in a tight hug as he comes to meet him.

They hold each other tight, Jon's face pressed into Martin's suit jacket, and he can feel Martin's chest hitch in a sob to match his own. It's an embrace that contains everything that Jon was trying to say with the song, and more—all the wonder and joy and relief at the enduring fact that they are here, now, together.

"Thank you," Martin says, when he can finally speak. "Thank you, Jon, that was—" He takes a breath. "That was perfect."

How unfair, how unfair they’ll sing as they dance across the darling rooftop wreck He’ll trip and she’ll pretend not to have seen, Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment, ‘where have you been?’ She’ll whisper ‘I’ve waited oh so long for you to come’ And as the stars above them hum and hear them he’ll turn to her and say ‘that’s what she said’ It’s not fair, it's not fair how much I love you It’s not fair cos you make me ache you bastard

Martin and Jon dance together in Gerry's rooftop garden, illuminated by the soft warm glow of string lights and candles. The others have gone downstairs, ostensibly to begin putting away the leftover food ("wouldn't want these naan to go stale, would we?" Tim had said loudly, but he had winked at Jon as he followed the others to the stairs), and left the two of them alone, with only the sounds of the city and the soft music from Gerry's old boom box for company.

Jon leans into Martin, savoring the warmth of their hands pressed together against their chests, the way that Martin's suit smells faintly of laundry soap and the cologne that he knows that Martin saves for special occasions—jasmine and lemon and rose.

"I can't believe you sang a song with a "that's what she said" joke in it at our wedding," Martin says softly, and Jon laughs.

"I knew you'd like that part."

They dance some more—not doing any steps, really. Just swaying together, close and in time.

"I meant it all, you know," Jon says after a moment. "All the other parts."

He looks up at Martin, taking in all the details of his face: the beautiful deep brown of his eyes, the slight flush in his cheeks from the excitement of the day.

"I love you, Martin. I can't wait to spend the rest of my days standing next to you."

Martin's hand tightens across his back, and he pulls him closer, tucking his face tight against Jon's neck.

"Me too," he whispers. "I love you, Jon."

They continue to dance, there on the rooftop under the stars, with their friends' chatter floating softly up through the open window downstairs, and Jon's heart swells with the knowledge that whatever might come next, they will meet it together.

And he’ll say Oh how, oh how unreasonable How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m stood here Then I’m stood here And I’ll stand here I’ll stand here with you

#the magnus archives #tma #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #the amazing devil #post-canon #somewhere else #post mag 200 #i wrote this in one evening because i got the image in my head and it wouldn't let me go till i wrote it down #listen i just really love this song and the emotions in it #and it felt perfect for post-canon jmart #scribblings #songfic #long post

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jcryptid · 2 years

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Screw it, here's how Martin meets Jon in my Monster au

He’s making tea when he first sees it. An early morning, his mother still asleep and the haze of just past sunrise settling over the world as he pulls the kettle with him to the sink to fill it up. His mind about just as foggy as the air outside, wiping sleep from his eyes before setting his gaze through the window above the sink; and he has to do a double take at the shape that’s standing under a tree behind the fence line.

He turns off the tap.

He can’t make out much of the details from where he’s standing, but that hardly matters in the face of its impossibility. A black shape with almost undefined edges and a shape that could have been human but… wrong, somehow. Fundamentally wrong. Like staring into a shadowed void that made his eyes water when he tried to look closer, a lack of tangibility looking like cracking static or a bug in the very nature of reality, a glitch personified and absolutely covered, head to monstrous toe, in glowing, never once blinking, bright green eyes. Fingering, with impossible clawed fingers and predatory intent, through decaying box of old books and magazines and things from the attic he’d left there with still every intention to throw out.

And then the thing's head turns, snaps its hundreds of eyes all at once to focus on him as he ducks down behind the counter. Eyes wide, unstable as he lowers himself on the floor, back pressed up against the cupboard under the sink and brings a shaking hand to press against his mouth. The heavy weight of a thousand eyes all focused on him in that moment, as his mouth goes bone dry with a thing that stands what feels like right behind him. Just waiting, and watching him, and seeding his dread and just waiting for that one movement, that once excuse to crash through that window and end him before he can even let out a scream.

It takes hours of nothing happening for him to work up the nerve to move again. To pull himself up over the counter enough to peek and see the spot by the tree empty. It doesn’t bring him the relief he thought it would, not with the still constant impression of that thing still watching him, now unseen when before he at least could have had the knowledge of where it was.

It's gone now, he can't see it and oh god that just makes it so, so much worse.

The space under the tree is empty, the yard itself is as lonely as he's come to expect but he can still feel those eyes. And he stands, staring through the kitchen window, trying very hard to find it again with frantic eyes swept over the yard, picking through and focusing on every dark corner and hiding place. Expecting, with some awful dread for it to be very, very close all at once from where it’s hiding, to smash through the window or to appear right behind him, even as the feeling of hundreds and thousands of eyes all focused at once still persists, has him pinned down where he's stood. Waiting for him to make a move, for him to do… something. Something he's not sure of, and that fact alone makes him very afraid. That one wrong movement, one wrong action and it's all over. And he can't see it but oh god, he can feel that it can see him.

And in that moment, all he could think beyond the fear as he backed away from the window slowly, shaking under the feeling of that relentless gaze trained on him and waiting to strike, was that when it did inevitably come, (as by now he was sure it would even as it bided its time) all he could do was just hope it would be quick and painless.

The relentless choking dread whispered a very, very different story.

After a few more hours of thumbing through books and not daring to step back into the kitchen or anywhere near a window, the feeling faded. Slowly, no discernable moment where it all cut off, maybe just enough to not notice him so much… He worked up the nerve enough to move, to push through the door and past that threshold enough to step outside and search for a minute or two, to make sure before he gripped his shoulder bag tighter and started his trek to work.

Never stopping once, tense as all hell, jumping at shadows and trying very hard to resist that urge to look over his shoulder, or to entertain that constant fear and feeling of eyes, watching from just out of sight.

The box of books was gone. At the square of empty pressed grass all he could do was swallow it down, and squeeze the straps of his bag again, and keep walking.

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handdrawnfantasma · 2 years

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thinking this morning abt a post i saw a while ago which i should have saved bc it had things in it that i disagreed with that i now cannot quote with any accuracy (life tip: save the posts u disagree with bc it means that when u finally figure out WHY u disagree with them you will actually be responding to what was actually there instead of your plato’s allegory of the cave version of it)

anyway

the post in question, iirc, was talking about like........ i think the crux of one of its arguments in support of its point was this idea of fanfiction being somehow unable to draw or explore characters with the same depth as an original work - so you can already see why i disagreed with it in spite of the fact that the main point it was trying to support was one that i DO agree with - which is that the trend of turning your fanfic into Original Fiction Do Not Steal by just “filing the serial numbers off” needs to stop bc it’s a bad way of trying to create original fiction. anyway one of the points the author made in support of their main statement was that true fanfic should be rooted in the love and exploration of the original world and therefore the original work, and so that’s why so many AU fics fall flat

and i just had to stop and pause to reassess how apparently the way this person approaches the very concept of AU fanfics is apparently so diametrically opposed to my own bc i AM The AU Warlock who is only capable of writing really weird niche AUs, and i don’t think i have ever approached any AU without this being my driving mission statement:

[ image ID: the Parks and Rec “It’s about the cones” meme with the subtitle text changed to read “It’s about the shared narrative themes” ]

ANYWAY i don’t know if i had a point with this post at all, but it really is interesting sometimes to get a glimpse of how some people truly live in an entirely different world to the one you inhabit huh

#what time is it? Time For Fel's Opinions #for real though i. i have never been capable of even coming up with a CONCEPT for a 'normal' au.#the closest i think i've ever come is the as-yet-unwritten Amelie AU concept i came up with for jmart?#but even that came about bc i realised that Amelie is EXACTLY the sort of person you would get if you had a Lonely-Web-Beholding-aligned--#person who somehow managed to remain benevolent.#i have more thoughts that were going thru my head about this but they're too long for tags #and also i'd want to find the original post again first #bc like. i agreed with the 'u cant just make an original work by filing serial numbers off ur fanfic bc then u remove all the actual--#personality of the characters u were writing for' point but like.#look. i'm not saying there aren't some very bland cookie-cutter AU fanfics out there that do not give a whit for characterisation and themes #and instead choose to lean heavily on shallow fanon tropes and stock fanfic genre conventions.#we've all seen it.#but making the statement that all AU fics fall under that banner is a Bold Fucking Claim my guy #like yes ok ok my own jimmies are personally rustled by this bc my entire brand is #'weird niche AUs with a heavy emphasis on exploring the canon themes and characterisation within a different context to the canon universe'#but i've also read a fair amount of AUs that REALLY sink their teeth into studying the characters and themes bc the AU setting allows them #to look at it from angles that canon simply cannot!#ANYWAY

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ziyalathena30 · 2 years

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Summary: The Doctor looks for flexible points in time to stop Jonah Magnus’ plans for world domination and picks up a few companions on the way.

CW: Discussions of character’s death, mild cussing, worm attack, explosions, Cannon Typical Worm Horror, mild descriptions of medical settings, mild descriptions of severe bodily harm.

I've decided to do a triple threat mashup of my three fav fandoms.

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wormedw00d · 1 year

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wait okay so the tapes stopped recording people during jons coma right. they only came back after he regained consciousness in s4. maybe. tma 2. you know.

#tma #but worm the tapes are so and so web thing LISTEN I WILL ADMIT THAT I DONT EXACTLY REMEMBER HOW THEY WORKED #sorry for always posting about tma it will continue to happen until jmart gets married in canon on podcast

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pillowspace · 2 months

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(Note: this may also include alternate universes or canon divergences based around that time period)

#the magnus archives #tma #jonmartin #jmart #teaholding #poll #polls #the magnus protocol #magpod #magnuspod #magnus pod #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jon sims

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