tma desperation hours™ || behold beware be afraid is the new gaslight gatekeep girlboss || asks tagged as #tired answers / my writing as #tired writes || currently listening: MAG 081 - A Guest For Mr Spider || profile picture by the lovely @saintbleeding ||
this is a little index of my completed tma fics and WIPs to better keep track of everything and gather them all in a single place! here we go! ✨
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WIPs / series
| i think i love you (oh, i love you) - Soup Sickfic AU masterpost
| love you, to love you, to love you well - safehouse period food-as-a-love-language series
| touches ask game - x
completed
| some one came, and kissed me there [ao3] - ~7k, rated T, 3+1 format Christmas fic, a character study of kiss-averse jon through the years
«You know, we’re— there’s mistletoe, up there,» she says. He looks up, frowning — he hadn’t noticed, but now he can make out the green and red of it, stark against the white wooden arch over the stairs.
When he looks back down, she’s much closer than she was — closer even than they were on her bedroom floor, kneeling to see under the chair. He freezes where he stands, uncertain. She’s the same height as him, but she still goes up on her tiptoes, eyes fluttering closed as she presses her mouth to his.
Her lips are a little cracked, and a little wet. It’s over in the blink of an eye.
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or: Jonathan Sims and a life of mistletoe misadventures.
| fire exists the first in light [ao3] - ~1.5k, rated G, jackagnes fluff because they deserve to go on a date and hold hands about it actually
Her expression is wide open, thoughtful. His heart twinges sweetly at the sight of her lips, curled into a subdued version of her lopsided smile.
Jack isn’t a poet.
If he was, he’d be able to find better words to describe the way her hair burns against the slate-grey winter sky, dead branches threaded through it like dark, engorged veins. The subtle warmth of her body next to his, growing stronger every time their shoulders brush in passing. The white mist of her breath, thick and opaque like smoke.
He wants to hold her hand.
The next time their arms touch, he can feel the heat radiating from the back of her hands, curling around his wrist like a warning.
He doesn’t reach out.
It's too cold for a walk in the park. Jack doesn't actually mind.
| and you’re so steady, and you don’t tip over [ao3] - ~3k, rated T, MAG 155 Aftermath, wtgfs! have some lesbians!, they’re Very Soft and Very In Love and Very Traumatised
For the first week after she quits the Institute, Melanie doesn’t dream.
It’s been a long time since she last managed to sleep through a whole night without waking, terrified and gasping and snarling at shadows, her fingers curled tightly around the knife hidden under her pillow, the handle biting its carved indents into her skin. Holding it until it hurt – until she could barely tell the hilt apart from the aching flesh of her palm, her tongue thick with the taste of blood and bile.
It had felt safer that way.
Melanie has nightmares. It's inevitable, but she still wishes Georgie didn't have to deal with them.
| and never stray too far from home [tumblr / ao3] - ~3k, rated G, post-canon jmart, Domestic Fluff, Mandatory Kitten Fic for the soul with minimal mentions of stabbing and maximum softness
The kitten can't be more than four or five months old. She emerges from the folds of fabric, and her bright green eyes blink up at him from a very, very upset little face, her wet fur mussed and dirty with dust, or soil, or some other ungodly substance. She's a lovely calico, orange and black spots painted like brush strokes on her head and back, her nose a pretty shade of pink. One of the black marks is right over her left eye, giving her the look of a rather ruffled pirate.
Jon falls in love on the spot.
«Oh.» he says, this time out loud.
Martin finds a cat. She stays, naturally.
| i’ll say no more today [ao3] - ~1.6k, (pre-)jonmartin, rated G, s3/s4, Angst and Feels, canon-typical Pining and Yearning, Self-Worth Issues (this is a Martin character study after all)
Martin catches himself staring at his chest, begging it to raise with the rhythm of a breath, even just one, just once, just enough to put a stop to the frenzied gibberish of panic playing like static in his mind.
It deafens him, makes it hard to think and harder to sleep, as if the volume of his thoughts is stuck and he can't quite reach whatever handle turns it down. He's exhausted, and yet here he stays. Keeping vigil on an uncomfortable chair as late as the nurses will let him and as often as he can possibly manage.
Kindness, he has come to find out, has its own way of marking you.
Sometimes, visiting the hospital is something Martin does more for himself than for Jon.
| and if I were to forget you (my heart would forget me) [tumblr / ao3] - ~1k, (pre-)jonmartin, rated G, s4, MAG 149 coda, (more) canon-typical Pining and Yearning, yet another Martin character study, Light Angst, vague musings about losing oneself
Irritation closes like a vice around his throat, along with the usual, familiar weariness, his bones aching with it, the same dull soreness of a fever. For a second, he considers it – he's so tired he isn't sure he can stand, and the room feels much colder than it ought to.
However, that isn't what's making him uncomfortable. He's getting used to being cold, the Lonely settling over him quietly and surely, like a blanket of snow. Sometimes, it doesn't even feel like cold anymore, its touch so glacial it starts to burn in a strange parody of warmth.
It feels safe. Everything is droned out, diluted as if painted in watercolours. Peaceful.
Martin tries to forget Georgie's words. They keep coming back.
A zine inspired by both my spiritual and scientific appreciation for the coelacanth. What a gift it is to spend my life on the planet with these creatures and all the other people that love them.
[ID: A comic of a scene from The Magnus Archives, season 5. It is two panels over a splash page.
Panel 1: Jon and Martin stand facing each other in an apocalyptic landscape. The sky is red, and the land is barren. Martin says, "What about Elias?"
Panel 2: Jon looks intensely forward, pupils glowing red and long hair whipping around his face. The background is black and stormy, with a halo of red static and glitch effects around Jon. He says, "He's inside the Panopticon. The tower, high above the world."
Panel 3/Splash Page: Martin makes a flat, unimpressed expression and gestures over his shoulder to a colossal, black tower rising into swirling clouds that resemble an eye. He says, "That one?" End ID]
[ID: A three-panel comic strip of a TMA time travel AU.
Panel 1: Jon from season one - wearing glasses, dressed in business casual, jaw length hair, greying slightly at the temples- sits at his desk and looks up at Jon from season five. long greying hair, no glasses, wearing pajamas, including a slouchy, scratchy green cardigan, subconjunctival hemorrhaging in both eyes-. Future Jon has a hand on Past Jon's shoulder.
Future Jon: And so that's the moral of the story. If all you do is look at stuff, then you will become an eyeball."
Past Jon: Damn.
Panel 2: Both Jons have turned their heads to look straight on at the viewer.
Both Jons: What do you think about all of this, Martin?
Panel 3: Past Martin, wearing a button-up shirt and scratchy green cardigan, stares forward with a blank face, blushing intensely; his glasses are opaque. He has a speech bubble that says "Hm?" but behind him is a large thought bubble filled entirely with the following phrases:
Please kiss, please please please please, kiss each other in front of me, holy shit, PLEASE, where I can see it in front of meeee, kiss on the mouth, please kiss on the mouth, I hope they kiss.
No tech CEO or NYT bestselling novelist will ever match the creativity of a humble French postman who decided on a whim to spend thirty-three years building a surreal, majestic palace with the bricks and mortar of his dreams.
1. Ferdinand Cheval tripped over a stone and was inspired by its shape, eventually stating, "It represents a sculpture so strange that it is impossible for man to imitate, it represents any kind of animal, any kind of caricature. I said to myself: since Nature is willing to do the sculpture, I will do the masonry and the architecture."
Here's the tripped-over sandstone in question, which explains some of the abstract design:
[ID: A digital illustration of Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov from Yuri!!! On Ice. Yuuri is wearing his short program skating costume and Victor is wearing a suit, a long brown coat, and a coach's ID badge. Victor is holding Yuuri's waist and Yuuri has a hand on Victor's shoulder. They're smiling at each other. End description.]
