Set in episodes 159-160 | Scottish Safehouse Period (The Magnus Archives)
[Image ID: A digital drawing of Martin from the Magnus archives sitting shirtless at a table in front of a window. Martin is a fat, white, non-op trans man with glasses and reddish brown hair. He is leaning on his forearm against the table and holding on to a steaming yellow mug. There is a cuckoo clock on the wall behind him styled to look like a barn, and decorated with two small highland cows. The clock indicates that it is 11:00 am. The window is overlooking the Scottish countryside. It is cloudy and rainy. Martin is looking off screen with a small contented smile, the intended implication being that he is smiling at Jon, who has just walked into the room. End image ID]
(for tma body positivity day! Pls click for quality :/)
[ID: A warm-toned digital drawing of Jon and Martin from the Magnus Archives, standing together on a beach. Martin has one arm around Jon’s shoulders and is making a peace sign with his free hand. Jon has one arm around Martin’s back and is holding a sun hat in his other hand. Martin is a fat white man wearing flower-patterned swim trunks and has a beach bag slung over his shoulder. Jon is a thin South Asian person with numerous scars, and is wearing a short wrap skirt. They are both smiling brightly. End ID]
a quick drawing of my martin for @tmabodypositivity !! :] I love this event so much it sparks so much joy <3
[IMAGE ID: A digital drawing of Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives. He is a fat post-op Thai man with brown freckled skin and curly black hair that has a gray streak in it. He has stretch marks, and his shoulder, forearm, and face is dotted with small scars. Another scar stretches across the middle of his throat. He is shirtless and wearing a gray pair of boxers with a red heart pattern and an ace ring. He has a salt and pepper goatee. He is sitting in front of an orange background posing with his left arm behind his head and supporting himself with his right. He is looking to the left with a soft smile and one eye closed. There are three white hearts to the left of his head. /End ID]
[ID: 2 digital drawing, one of martin and one of jon from the magnus archives. Martin is a fat polish man with pale skin, stubble, freckles and shoulder length, curly white hair. he is wearing orange shirt and light brown trousers. he is tying a ponytail, his arms raised behind his head, making his shirt ride up. he is smiling sweetly to the left. tiny red cartoon hearts are flying around him, and he is saying: good morning. Jon is a slim british indian person with medium light brown long wavy hair with grey strands through it, stubble, and scars across his entire upper body. a book lay open on their lap and they are petting a cat with their left hand while resting their cheek on the right. They are shirtless and are wearing dark purple trousers. He is sitting on a brown armchair with a cane resting next to it. He is smiling very fondly in a right direction as he says: “morning.”, tiny cartoon hearts surrounding him. END ID]
smth small for tma body positivity day!! They just like to look at eachother…
*breaks into your inbox* i already asked for two prompts but please. martin’s tits. that’s the prompt.
an excellent prompt that I kind of ran away with lmao, but I hope you enjoy this anyway!
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Martin was a lot of things, some of them better than others, but one thing he definitely wasn't was naive.
He noticed the way Jon had stared when, after arriving at the safehouse, Martin had peeled off his travel-grimy shirt and the sweaty binder underneath it, and plopped himself down on the sofa for god and all to see. Jon's eyes had widened, and then flicked away, and he'd managed to busy himself in the kitchen for over two hours.
Martin also noticed that when they brought up their sleeping situation that first night, Jon was quick to agree to Martin's suggestion that they share a bed. And afterwards, when they crawled in together, Martin saw Jon reach, across the covers, just for a moment before pulling back, and retreating to his side of the bed as though scared to cross some invisible line.
He noticed how, the next morning, Jon was too sleepy to stop himself from openly admiring Martin's bare torso as he stretched out of the covers.
Martin wasn't naive, and he could add up two and two just fine, thanks very much.
Martin started forgoing his binder around the safehouse more often, and his shirt, too, if it was warm enough. It was nice, letting the guys breathe, so to speak. They'd been needing it. He'd spent much of the past year alone, but so little of it had been comfortable; he'd rarely taken his binder off even when he was alone in his flat. For some reason he'd always felt that taking it off was something he didn't need, a frivolous, pointless attempt to comfort himself when comfort was something that wasn't for him. But now, in the tiny cabin with Jon, he felt unaccountably safe, and secure enough to sit around bare-chested and just . . . be. And Jon's flustered little glances were a nice bonus.
He didn't mind the attention; it was nice to be stared at, especially after the past six months of his life. He knew Jon was ace, but he had never said anything about a lack of aesthetic attraction. Feeling Jon's eyes on him was a nice reminder that he was not only seen but appreciated, that Jon found him appealing in more ways than one. And Jon's gaze was . . . sweet, in a way, almost shy. Like he wasn't entirely sure if he had permission to stare or not, but he wanted to do it anyway.
Neither of them said anything about it, but they didn't have to. Martin knew he'd been backing the right horse when Jon crawled into bed one night and, instead of plastering himself to the far edge like he'd done before, cuddled up close to Martin and laid his head on his bare chest. He was pleasantly warm and soft all along Martin's side, and he fell asleep faster than Martin had ever seen him do before.
The next morning, Martin woke up to find Jon sprawled across him, his face half-hidden in the middle of Martin's chest. He had the look of someone who had just found himself the world's fluffiest pillow, and was not keen on giving it up.
"Morning," Martin said, amused. "Sleep well, then?"
Jon stirred against him, but didn't relinquish his hold. "I'm not moving," Jon said, his voice muffled. "This is the most comfortable I've ever been."
"Can you breathe down there?" Martin said.
"Don't need to breathe," said Jon, his voice vibrating through Martin's chest. "Don't need to eat or drink either. Just need to lie here, on top of my very comfortable boyfriend, for the rest of time."
Martin patted his back and stretched over the covers a bit, making himself comfortable. "Whatever you say."
"I mean it. This is where I belong."
"Between the boys?"
That, of all things, made Jon glance up. He looked disappointed. "Is that what you call them?"
Martin shrugged. "When I call them anything, yeah."
"That's an awful name, Martin."
"It's better than the alternative!"
"Good Lord," Jon groaned, and finally rolled off of Martin, landing on his back in the bed next to him.
"Oh, don't be like that," Martin said, grinning. "Come back here and cuddle."
"No, it's too late now, you ruined it."
Martin propped himself up with an elbow and stretched a bit theatrically, doing his best to show off his assets, as it were. Jon glanced over at him and blushed, quickly looking away again.
"You can stare, you know," Martin said, smiling. "I don't mind."
"It's rude to stare," Jon mumbled. "And I don't like leaning into the whole Eye Avatar thing."
"Nope," Martin said, shaking his head. "To both of those."
Jon huffed a laugh, and turned back to face Martin, staring at him across the bed. His gaze was warm and careful, like the rest of him. "Well, now I've got no excuses."
Martin opened his arms. "That mattress can't be more comfortable than me. You said it yourself."
"No," Jon relented, "it's not. There's a distinct lack of Martin softness I'm missing here."
Martin reached out and tugged Jon close again, Jon putting up the weakest of protests before eagerly curling up against him. "There we go," Jon murmured, satisfied.
There was a long pause, and Martin had almost managed to drift off when Jon spoke up again. "I want you to know . . . I think you're very attractive, Martin. I--I mean you're handsome. And I like looking at you, and being close to you, like this." Jon shook his head. "I'm sorry, I'm not great at this. Just . . . thank you. For letting me be close to you."
"Sure," said Martin, after a quiet moment. He pressed a kiss to Jon's forehead, which was in easy reach. "Thanks for getting close, Jon."
"Ha," Jon said softly. He burrowed himself a little closer, and Martin tightened his grip around him, making sure he stayed right where he belonged. "Anytime, Martin."
