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Very informative thread -source

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Guys remember when supernatural 😃

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also i love the use of reclaimed there in the past tense

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im between fixations rn so i gotta be careful what media i consume so i dont go insane 0_0

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ur designs for mahtin n jon just,,,,,,,,, fill me with so much joy i absolutely love them

Thank you so much!!! I like them a lot and Martin is my absolute fav to draw 8’)

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playing games - fluff,  jonmartin, during episode 160′s scottish-happy-funtimes

There’s no phone, no wifi, no bars of signal enough to even tease the possibility of the internet.

It’s a due respite at first. They spend long hours hibernating, bundled around the other in bed, or dropping to sleep against each other on the settee like wind-angled trees. Martin uses up all the hot water in the shower, feeling sensation eke back into his limbs, and Jon turns out to be a surprisingly competent cook with what little supplies they brought with them.

It’s a lulling, lotus-eaters snow-globe of an existence and they both know it can’t last.

The cottage isn’t huge, basic and utilitarian, and it doesn’t take them long to search out all its secrets. Martin finds three hunting knives and a bullet-proof vest tucked into a secret compartment in the wardrobe, and Jon searches out a bundle of flares, a length of harsh rope, and a handgun. They agree without conversation to leave all these things exactly where they are.

There’s no books or CDs or anything that passes for entertainment. So the first time Martin heads down to the village, ambling along the mud-caked pathways and taking photos for Jon as he goes,  he buys some playing cards from the post office that doubles as the village shop, along with a bottle of wine.

Jon last had a drink with Daisy in some quiet corner of a central London pub, before she was lost to the blood, and his mood sours morose to remember it; she insisted on paying for the round, he says, we shared a pack of crisps, and it was – it was a nice night. Away from… away from it all.  Martin goes quiet and starts picking at the paper label with his gnawed-down nails and says Peter gave him a sea-salted hip flask; ’a toast, he called it’ he recalls bitterly ‘to our new “alliance”. It was rum, I think. It was vile stuff. Burned like oil on the way down. And Peter clapped me on the shoulder like he was proud and I felt sick.’

Jon pours their wine into mugs and leans against his shoulder, and they drink it far too fast. Martin regrets not getting another. But it does its job, and a tension in them unwinds, their conversations taking a turn-off to a road less rocky as their thoughts get a little woolly, their motions and movements slightly looser.

Martin can’t really remember how to play the card games he thought he knew, so he fluffs the rules with an unearned confidence that Jon sees right through. Not that it matters much – Jon keeps forgetting the rules anyway and just throwing down what he hopes is the right combination of cards.

Jon is apparently not a very competitive player.  He likes the buzz of the game, and interrupts with effusive tipsy interjections when he thinks he’s winning, but each victory is taken much the same as each loss.

(He mostly appears to be playing because Martin asked and he wants to see him happy, rather indulging in his top three favourite activities which, from careful observation over the last four days, can be classified as; sleeping and wrapping himself bodily around Martin like the world’s boniest big spoon, dozing while listening to the radio, a warm mug still precariously cupped in his hands, and a close third, trying to get Martin to be actively involved in both previous mentioned hobbies.)

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating.  Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye  – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way – you cheat! How could you?!

Martin keeps cheating, ever more ostentatiously,  and it evolves into a game of showmanship, how far he can get without Jon catching him, Jon who now commits him his entire attention – slightly creepy in an affectionate way, because he keeps forgetting to blink.  Martin revels in it, to see Jon’s triumphant and fond ’aha!’ when he figures it out.

The next time Martin goes down to the shop, he gets talking to some of the locals, and in no time they’ve all banded together like some rural racketeering set-up to donate him some old jigsaws, a backgammon board, and a scrabble set, and Martin, laden with these treasures and another couple of wine bottles, returns home like some valiant wanderer bearing victorious spoils.

Jon’s face splits into the rarest of smiles when he sees them.

(And it turns out, as Jon shamelessly and boldly sets down 'aba’ and 'mho’ and 'qi’ with a glint in his eye, Martin wiping tears from his eyes – those aren’t, god, ha, Jon y-you can’t, they aren’t words, Jon, you’re such a cheat! / I can and they are and so I will. Eleven points to me – that he’s incredibly competitive at scrabble.)

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TMA jonmartin fics

Organising these, mostly so I can keep track to be honest. All some flavour of jonmartin, predominantly fluff or angst. cws in original tags. 

Updated as of June 2020

If you’d like to send any prompts, feel free!  All of these are also bundled together on A03.

Martin tries to rescue Jon from Elias, post-160

JONAH MAGNUS Oh, but, look. Look at him, Martin. Isn’t my Archive magnificent?

MARTIN [whispered, almost fearful] Yes.

Martin feels the pull of the Lonely. Jon draws a bath.

“Come on,” Jon says, enfolding their hands together.  His voice is kind, and that’s never died, no matter how the world bricked it up and starved it of sunlight. Jon’s kind to his bones, and it wells up from the deep down of him.

Jon pulls the way, and Martin follows behind.

Even after Jon stops being the Archivist, they aren’t safe. (parent!AU)

“I would like to propose an idea,” Martin says. Softer now. More tired. “and I-I want you to hear me out.”

“OK.”

“Whatever it is.”

“You’re not exactly inspiring confidence.”

Martin gives him a Look.

“OK,” Jon says, rubbing his thumb over Martin’s knuckles. “OK, I promise. Whatever it is, I-I’ll at least listen.”

Martin’s nightmares never quite leave him

Martin feels the question form there, at the centre, the tentative journey it traverses before he hears ‘Can I…. I mean, do you want to…?’

The question isn’t fully born before he’s heaving great waves of sobs into the chest he’s pillowed on. Like clockwork, the arms come round, always an inch too tight a grip, and somehow that makes this easier to bear.

Things were always going to catch up with them eventually

He’s a light sleeper, and they knew he would be. Didn’t want him to wake too soon, to be denied a proper welcome. Jon shifts and stretches and burrows as he slips dazedly into consciousness, nestling tighter against the body next to him still fast-asleep before the thick weight of sleep is dropped and he jolt up, a punched out breath of shock escaping them.

And finally they are witnessed. They watch his expressions free-fall from understanding to despair.

Local Man cheats at card games, Local Avatar is smitten

Martin likes playing, not necessarily competitively, but where he does excel is in cheating. Jon catches him swapping out a three for a queen out of the corner of his eye – well, Martin wants him to catch him – and his smile is wide and shocked and gleeful in his own way –you cheat! How could you?!

soulmate-identifying marks, or: fuck yeah tattoos

“The Archivist?” Peter Lukas asks. His voice isn’t mocking. Martin isn’t sure what it it.

He hates the tone of it.

“Do you want something?” Martin responds curtly. Frosty. Tugging his sleeves back down pointedly. Peter’s expression is ever so proud.

Something is wrong. Martin just can’t put his finger on it.

“Sorry,” Jon says, without sounding sorry in the slightest, almost cheeky. He bestows another kiss that is not a kiss to Martin’s neck, scraping a little with his teeth.

“Sleep,” Martin repeats, groggy but firm, and traps the soft, unblemished skin of Jon’s hands in his own.

Keep reading

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i say this so genuinely, i really really hope harvey guillén knows how much he means to young lgbt people

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So I know how we joke that Guillermo de la Cruz and Martin Blackwood are the same person, but don’t tell me that Harvey Guillén wouldn’t absolutely nail the “sorry Elias, I can’t hear you, there’s a door in the way” scene

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y'all are so thirsty for harvey guillén as guillermo... *hands you these and walks away*

(from harvey guillén's instagram)

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op you should listen to tma <3

what's that? is that a band?

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I’ve never seen a m/m ship become canon spontaneously through chemistry in a tv show before and I can’t believe a silly vampire comedy show is going to be the one to do it

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Patient 69 is out of his cell again

GAY PEOPLE ARE REL

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but he’s being so brave about it <3

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shawty got them evil bottom jeans