#background timsasha

[sinag789tala]

prearchives era my beloved :(

hc that jon and sasha match every day. even as the archivist, he still continues it because he kind of loses sleep over it if he doesn't choose to match with sasha. and it's sasha's day today, so both sasha and jon are wearing half-up half-down hairdos and purple turtle necks.

and there's tim i guess

[sernhuh]

Drew my fav bi's

And here's just them

[fox-guardian]

[ID: A digital drawing in a vintage cartoon style of Sasha and Tim as a witch and a black cat respectively. Sasha is a tall Afro-Latina woman with curly black hair and she is wearing a purple and orange dress with a matching pointy hat and orange and black striped thigh-high socks, black slippers, as well as a black choker, round yellow earrings, and she is holding a broom. Tim is a short, stocky Latino man with purple hair a small goatee, and cat ears, and he is wearing a black bodysuit with feet paws and a tail, and a bell collar and rectangular glasses. They are both smiling and posing as if for a photo with Sasha having one hand on her hip and one leg raised, and Tim raising his hands up like paws. The colors are offset from the line-art in multiple directions and the background is off-white. end ID]

~~~~

the timsasha halloween piece has arrived!! enjoy the powerful witch, miss sasha james and her familiar tim :3c

[almaprincess66]

Archivist!Sasha AU

Sasha James is a fully fledged Avatar of the Beholding, roaming the apocalips with her murdetous plus one Tim Stoker.

So that is the basic concept, right? Like end game couple TimSasha. But that is season 5 and we have to get there somehow, so here will I present my character ARCs

S1 Everything is relatively the same. The statement givers show up, Melanie is having a great time with Sasha, Martin start living in the archives and during the Prentiss attack Jon gets replaced by the Not!Them

S2 Things get sketchy. Like things are properly fucked up but it's sort of fine. They can feel that something is out of place but can't quite put their fingers on it. Not!Jon is messing with the statements and research materials given his libary background. Michael gives more help with figuring out stuff just because he actually likes Sasha. Helen gets abducted. Melanie questions on why did Jon got replaced by a whashed up white boy. Leitner gets murdered by Elias using some eye magic. Sasha is not on the run.

S3 Sasha is not wanted for murder so they have more time and more options. Sasha is not a paranoid mess so she and Tim put together what the heck is going on. They question Elias about Not!Jon and he confirms. After hearing this Martin basically skyrockets into the lonely. They start to prepare for the Unknowing and because Tim is there it's more smooth. Melanie somehow gets to the Institute. Basira leaves the police. Sasha realizes that the only way to get back at Elias and move him from his position is to do private investigations. Sahsa with Tim's and Melanie's help goes on the S3 interview of the monsters part. This get's her kidnapped by the Circus of The Other. Michael saves her and he does NOT turn into Helen or tries to kill Sasha. The America bit is the exact same. They find the bombs and make a similar try to stop the Unkowing as to the tape. They now have sectioned police help and a somewhat Lonely avatar on their side to take shit down. They succeed but Tim gets a heavy burning. Martin dies and Daisy gets into the coffin. Melanie calls the cops on Elias and gets him out of place.

S4 Sasha gets into the coma and turns into a full Avatar. Oliver Banks becomes the helping Avatar of the End. She goes back to work where everything is in chaos. Tim got marked by the Desolation during the Unknowing destruction. Sasha is a more accepting avatar and she gets experimenting real fast. She basically on week one helps Melanie to leave the institute for good. She gets Daisy out and puts her in the care of Basira. With Oliver's help them and Tim take out Peter Lucas. Anabelle shows up and offers a way to turn back Tim from his self destructive Desolation ways. The two of them together go to the place in Scotland where Gertrude set up the bounding ritual. There waits a statement for Sasha. The apocalyps start.

S5 TimSahsa go full kill bill on their way to get down Jonah Magnus. Like no mercy on anybody other than the kids from the Dark whom they adopt as an army against the other creatures that are also archivists.

This was a really long way of me putting down how emotional it would be if S5 JonMartin would stumble upon S5 TimSahsa and the two achivists would know but also wouldn't know each other because of the Not!Them.

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

rained in.

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0UQiJ3I by weepingbarbarianfury It's pouring down rain in London again, and the staff from down in the Archival Department aren't entirely enthused about it. Sasha proposes a movie night. No one can refuse, not even Jon (but he's recovering from a migraine, so we forgive his lack of argument). Banter ensues. Words: 4521, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Martin Blackwood, Sasha James, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Rosie Zampano Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James, Sasha James & Tim Stoker, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) as a Workplace Comedy, Season/Series 01, pre-worms, coworker banter, coworker shenanigans, Background TimSasha, blooming jonmartin, not quite a sickfic but jon is Unwell, i fear there may be no plot, started out as a character study but things have progressed, tim knows what's up, sasha may also know what's up, martin is in denial, Tea as a love language, physical touch, canon-typical jon can't deal with feelings so he ignores them read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/0UQiJ3I

[celosiaa]

hi me again 🥺 sorry for making you tear up even if it was in a good way (hopefully?) 💕 i don’t mind the wait at all, i completely understand and it’s 100% worth it (honestly i get so excited whenever you post a new fic)!! soooo... i was doing some research for a project on epilepsy and i got thinking about epileptic martin?? like particular in s1 maybe he didn’t tell the other archives crew as he didn’t know them that well/hadn’t worked closely with them before (ok sorry tbc as i am rambling)

hello friend!!! I am so sorry that this took me a literally unreasonable amount of time to write! I really enjoyed the research I did for this, and I love this hc forever. And I hope this is what you were looking for <3

CW seizures, nausea, misgendering

Focus.

Just focus.

For god’s sake.

It’s been nearly an hour of Martin sitting at his desk, trying desperately to rein in any sliver of concentration he can muster to look at the laptop screen before him. He feels awful doing it, but every time Jon has passed by his desk that day, he’s found himself pretending to click around or to type—though he’s got the brightness set so far down there’s no way he’d be able to see it anyway. After a few attempts at turning it back up, he’s had to immediately look away, as the pounding behind his eyes resumes again. So for now, he’s stuck with reading statements—something he is loathe to do even on a good day.

And this certainly wasn’t.

He knows better than this, knows that he’s very nearly approaching disaster—what with the not sleeping out of hypervigilance, not eating out of anxiety, and not having his seizure meds for the past two days, as he’d managed to run out of his flat without them. And there’s no doubt in his mind that he cannot send anyone back to his flat. Not with Prentiss still on the loose.

Selfish selfish selfish

No, stop it.

You haven’t even done anything.

Wishing more than anything that his mind did not constantly run him ragged with thoughts like this, Martin looks up from his papers, intending to find a rubber band to snap against his wrist as a distraction, but instead—

Instead he finds himself frozen, colors fading in and out across his vision, heartbeat steadily climbing as his fingers go numb.

No no no no

Not now not now please not now

Realistically, he knows it’s only been a few seconds, but the seconds feel like years against the rapid thrum thrum thrum in his ears, made even worse when he sees Tim approaching from the periphery.

Damn it damn it

Please please please

“Hey Marto!”

Like clockwork, the focal aware seizure ends, and at last—at last he is able to move enough to look up at where Tim stands, leaning against his desk, smile fading rapidly as he watches Martin blinking in the suddenly-too-bright light.

“You alright?” he asks, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at his face, doubtless taking note of how quickly he is breathing now to match his settling heart rate.

“Y-yeah, sorry, um. Was just thinking,” is all he can reply, fighting to put an easy smile back on his face.

It seems to have been the wrong move, as Tim only shifts to sit atop his desk, expression quickly becoming overrun with concern.

“Okay, well…you look like you’re having a panic attack, mate,” he says lowly, reaching across him to grab his water bottle and set it nearer to him. “What do you need?”

Even with his misguided interpretation, Martin can’t help the flood of affection he feels toward him in this moment—because that’s just Tim, isn’t it? Never assumes, just asks what will help and then does it.

If only I weren’t such a mess, and would let him.

“Oh, n-no it’s not—it’s not that, Tim, I’m—I’m alright. Must’ve…drifted off, or something. Had a nightmare.”

There is no way Tim buys that, no way in hell—but thankfully, he lets it go.

“O…kay then. Well. If that’s the case, I was just thinking of grabbing some lunch, do you want anything? Don’t reckon you’ve eaten properly in a bit, yeah?”

God, Tim.

I don’t deserve this.

Yes, you do. You deserve a friend and you need to eat.

You need to eat.

“Uhh—th-thanks, erm.  Where—where are you going?” he asks, wishing to god his voice didn’t sound so shaky.

He takes a few intentionally deep breaths after that—thinking that perhaps it is a panic attack, after all.  Without realizing that several seconds have gone by since his question, he feels Tim’s bracing hand on his shoulder, knowing that he’s not going to ask again—but offering him a clear sign that he’s there all the same.

“Just the corner shop,” he murmurs, starting to rub his thumb over the shoulder seam of Martin’s t-shirt. “Nothing fancy. But I can get you a sandwich, if you like. Well, no—I am getting you a sandwich regardless, but I thought I might be considerate for once and ask if there was anything in particular that you want.”

“Yeah—erm, yeah, just. Anything that’s warm would be nice,” he says at last, sinking a bit as Tim removes his hand from his shoulder. “Thanks, Tim. That’s—that’s really kind.”

“Don’t mention it. Seriously,” he says, clapping his hand back against Martin’s shoulder with force before standing. “Be back in a bit. Drink that water.”

“I will,” Martin nods, earning himself some finger guns of approval before Tim starts walking towards the lift. “Thanks, mate.”

And he’s so close now, so close to shouting after him, to asking him to pick up his meds from the chemist, if he calls them in—

Just ask just ask just ask

—and then Tim is around the corner, and out of sight.

Damn it all.

He tells himself it’s probably for the best anyway—that he’s not really even sure he can get them. But it doesn’t stop him burying his face in his hands, tugging at his hair in frustration and shame. Really though, he ought to call first before mentioning anything—perhaps they have a delivery service, or they’ll refuse him, or something.

And what then?

The idea of finding himself suddenly on the floor of the archives, alone and in the dark with the worms having crawled all over him while he seized—

Have to call.

Reaching bitterly for his phone, he takes a deep breath as it rings, preparing his best “customer service” voice.

“Boots, how can we help you today?”

“Hi! Erm, I was wondering if—if I could get a refill for my prescription? For—for carbamazepine,” he says, cheery voice belying the dread with which he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Sure thing! Just need your name and date of birth and I’ll look you up.”

“Right. Erm—well, it’s Martin, but I think you’ve still got me under, erm. Mary Blackwood,” he says, forcing himself not to grit his teeth at the foul taste his deadname leaves in his mouth. “Date of birth October 15th, 1987.”

“Alright, let’s see here—“

Please please please

“—it looks like you’ve already got your refill, Miss Blackwood. Our system says you picked up your medication on the 19th.”

“It’s—it’s Mister, actually. Erm,” he stammers, stomach churning over the entire thing. “L-listen, I—I’ve had to leave my home quite suddenly, and—and I am unable to return there for the time being. So I don’t—I don’t have access to my meds. And I, erm. Really need them.”

Pathetic pathetic pathetic

“I’m really sorry, Mister Blackwood. You’re going to have your doctor call in another prescription for you before we can get you that refill. Unfortunately, it’s out of our hands.”

Of course.

“Oh, right. That’s erm—that’s okay. Thank you so much,” he says as brightly as possible, unwilling to blame anyone for something out of their control.

“You’re quite welcome. Take care.”

With a long, shaky sigh, Martin throws his phone back onto his desk, returning his head to its rightful place, buried in his hands. There’s no way he can call his doctor today—or tomorrow even, with it already being a Friday afternoon. No chance of him getting his refill, then. And no chance of sending Tim back to his apartment either.

Don’t panic. Don’t panic.

It was just a focal, nothing too bad.

Nothing unmanageable.

I can make it.

Steeling himself with somewhat tremulous determination, he takes another long breath—blinking back against the steady pounding in his head, and getting back to work.

—

“Aw come on, Sasha! Take a break with me!”

“Not on your life. I’m still furious with you, you know,” she replies, tossing her hair like a lion’s mane over her back. “Can’t believe you’d go all the way to the good café for Martin, and not offer me anything. Not even crumbs, Stoker!”

“Listen—” Tim grins back, hands raised in self-defense. “He looked like he could use some soup! I don’t know what else to say.”

“And you didn’t get me any? What about me doesn’t scream ‘I could use some soup, thank you?’”

“It’s different!! It’s—Martin? You alright?”

As he was walking past their bickering, eyes firmly fixed on the floor on the lookout for worms, Martin had suddenly stopped short—looking anxiously up and over their heads, framed by the doorway of Jon’s office.

“Martin?” Tim repeats, already halfway to standing in worry, following Martin’s gaze behind him and finding nothing.

Faster than he can turn back around, Martin’s muscles all tense at once—and he tips backwards onto the floor with a heavy thud.

“Shit! Martin!”

Tim darts forward at once, in some feeble attempt to catch him, but of course, far too late to do so. In his shock, he can do little but stand over him for a few seconds, taken aback upon seeing his eyes still open where he lies still on the floor.

“What happened?” Jon demands, stepping quickly out of his office towards them, where Sasha now crouches near his head.

“I-I don’t know, he just—”

And then Martin begins to convulse.

“Oh my god, he’s—he’s having a seizure,” Sasha gasps as she claps a hand over her mouth, from where it had been pressed against his forehead.

“Fuck. Fuck, what do—what do we do? Do we call 999?” Tim shouts, unwilling to sit by and watch as this all goes on around him, already grabbing Sasha’s phone from her nearby desk.

“I—I think so, let me—”

“Wait.”

Two sets of eyes land upon Jon as he interjects, crouching near Martin’s flailing left arm, waiting for him to set it back down before quickly grabbing at a bracelet circling his wrist.

“I-it’s a medical bracelet. Says epilepsy,” he says lowly, quickly sitting back on his heels as Martin’s arm begins to jerk again.

“Fuck. I—I had no idea,” Tim breathes, running an anxious hand through his hair. “How could we not know?”

“We should—” Sasha breaks off quickly to swallow a lump in her throat, before continuing. “We should be timing it, did anyone see the time?”

“I-I don’t—it’s probably been less than a minute, right?”

“I think so. I’m—here, I’m googling it to make sure—”

While she does so, Martin’s head begins to slam into the ground—and Jon immediately pulls off his cardigan, folding it quickly and placing it beneath him to cushion the blow.

“It’s alright, big guy,” Tim says, settling down to kneel next to Jon, who now has a hand gently pressed to his shoulder—not holding him down, just resting there in a comfort Martin probably cannot receive.

Tim rests his own hand against Martin’s thigh all the same.

“Okay, I think we’re good so far,” Sasha says at last, setting her phone down with a timer running on the screen. “Just time it, and—and keep watch. If it goes past five minutes, we call 999.”

“That’s—that’s it?” Tim says in dismay, snapping his eyes back to his friend, still convulsing on the floor. “There’s nothing else we can do?”

“No. We just have to watch out for him,” she replies, voice low as she adjusts Jon’s cardigan beneath his head. “Make sure he doesn’t hurt himself.”

Not the answer that Tim was looking for.

And so they wait—silent save for the rhythmic smacking of his limbs against the carpeted floor, and the occasional whispered platitude, though all know he cannot hear them. The seconds tick by in agony while they sit helpless, all eyeing the timer on Sasha’s phone creeping up steadily past three minutes.

“I don’t like this,” Tim says, knowing how useless it is to say so—Sasha raising her eyes to meet his for the first time in a while.

“Me neither.”

“Nearly three and a half minutes,” Jon mutters, worrying at his bottom lip while still resting a gentle hand on Martin’s shoulder.

“We’ve got you, Martin,” Tim mutters. “We’ve got you.”

Ten more seconds.

Twenty.

Thirty.

Forty.

And at last—at last he goes still, right past the four-minute mark.

“Alhamdulillah,” Jon sighs as he lets his chin briefly rest against his chest, a sentiment echoed by everyone around him.

“Okay, turn him on his side, here—Tim—”

“Got it,” Tim says as he moves to crouch next to her, helping roll him towards Jon, head pillowed on the arm Jon stretched out across the floor as a cushion.

As soon as they get him in the recovery position, they watch as saliva runs out of his mouth, surely fit to choke him had they not turned him—and he begins to snore forcefully, catching Tim very much by surprise.

“Wh-what—” he asks in bewilderment, struggling to hold back a bit of shocked laughter.

“The website said that’s normal,” Sasha assures at once, reaching behind her to grab a box of tissues from her desk behind her. “He’s going to be sleepy for a bit.”

“Okay. That’s—okay,” he says, watching as Jon takes the tissues from Sasha and wipes at Martin’s face so very gently, before tossing them aside and taking his hand.

Taking his hand.

…interesting.

Stowing THAT away for later.

As Jon starts to move his thumb across the back of Martin’s palm, the snoring stops—and his eyes begin to flutter rapidly, attempting to force their way fully open.

“Hey Martin, can you hear me?” Sasha says rather loudly, bending over him and tapping his shoulder lightly.

All she receives in response is a moan, deep and low, as he squeezes and unsqueezes his eyelids, coughing a bit against the pooling saliva. Jon reaches for the tissues again at once, cleaning his face as best as possible.

“You’re okay mate,” Tim says, patting his hip before leaving his hand there for support. “You’ve had a seizure.”

It takes a few moments, but at last, Martin opens his eyes, looking vaguely around without meeting Jon’s eyes.

“Wh’ happ’n?” he slurs—all three of them exchanging a meaningful glance, a bit alarmed.

“You had a seizure, Martin,” Sasha repeats, stroking at his hair while Tim starts rubbing his hand up and down his arm, hoping it will somehow help to ground him.

Remaining still for a few moments, still blinking, Martin tries to take it all in— looking down towards where Jon still rubs at his hand, though still seemingly unaware of his presence.

“What happened?” he asks again, voice less slurred, but still weak.

“A seizure, Martin,” Jon says, trying desperately to catch his eyes. “You’re alright.”

At once, Martin wrenches his hand away from Jon’s grasp in favor of clapping it over his mouth, muffling a small and desperate gasp behind it.

“Shit. You gonna be sick?” Tim asks, already looking around him for something to grab as Jon once again prepares his tissues.

He does not respond right away, instead pausing for a few deep breaths—at last shaking his head no. In both relief and the absence of something to do with his hands, Jon fusses at the cardigan again—positioning it just so.

“Wh—oh, seizure,” Martin breathes, and Tim cannot help but feel relieved at his gaining a bit of orientation back.

“Yeah.”

Eyebrows knitting together, Martin moves the hand clapped over his mouth to rest on his eyes, sniffling a bit before speaking.

“M’so sorry,” he gasps—and it’s enough to break Tim’s heart.

All of their hearts apparently, as they immediately place their hands on him in a gesture of comfort.

“Hey, no, none of that,” Sasha soothes, brushing back his fringe again.

“M’sorry.”

“Martin, it’s alright,” reassures Jon, with such rare gentleness that even Martin lowers his hand to look—wincing quickly as he does so, and placing it back over his eyes at once.

“Do the lights hurt?” Sasha asks worriedly, placing her hand to cover his own, hoping to block more of it out.

“Yeah—ah,” he grits out with a pained little gasp, and Jon gets to his feet.

“I’ll get them,” he says, and walks quickly to the switch, sending them into a darkness illuminated only by the light from the hall.

With a quiet sigh of relief, Martin lowers his hand again, eyes still closed, and rubs absently at his nose. Stumbling a bit as his eyes adjust to the dark, Jon makes his way back to kneeling beside him, taking up his free hand again.

“Your head okay?” asks Tim, prompting Sasha to card through his hair to look for any swelling. “I’m sorry I didn’t—I couldn’t catch you.”

“…what?” comes the vague response, delayed by a few seconds as Martin tries in vain to sort through what was said.

“Still confused,” Sasha mouths at him silently—and he nods, instead going back to rubbing up and down Martin’s arm, as Sasha moves to massage his neck.

“M’sorry.”

“Hush, darling. It’s alright,” she says, and Tim knows without a doubt she will sit there all day, repeating these same things to him as long as he needs.

And loves her for it.

“…wh—Jon?”

Eyes more focused than ever, Martin looks down to where Jon still rubs a thumb over his palm, stunned very his very presence in this space.

“Yes, I’m here,” he murmurs, offering a small squeeze of affirmation, inadvertently painting a soft grin briefly across Martin’s face—before it drops quickly again in horror, as the reality of the situation sinks in again.

“Oh god. I—oh god.”

“It’s okay, Martin.”

“No no no.”

“It’s alright,” Jon comforts, more soothing than Tim had ever imagined would be possible for him. “Just be still. You’re alright.”

Five minutes turn into ten, turn into fifteen as Martin’s confusion slowly fades away—his recovery naturally filled with a deluge of apologies, patient soothing from his friends, and tending to the waves of nausea that come over him every few minutes. Ever so gradually, he becomes better able to hold a conversation; better able to hold their gaze, asking what happened before he went down, explaining that his…well, everything is sore, but that it’s nothing unmanageable.

There is very little that Martin would call “unmanageable,” of course, but it’s the most they will get out of him.

“I think I can sit up now,” he says after a bit, bracing his arms underneath himself to prepare, and Tim reaches out to support him at once.

“Sure?”

“Yeah.”

A bit slow, a bit clumsy, they get him up—not without some worried questioning when he hunches forward, face buried in his hands as the headache worsens with the change of posture. But luckily, it dulls as quickly as it comes, and Martin soon finds himself able to look up, even to offer a bit of a sheepish smile.

“Want some water?” Tim asks as soon as he looks steady.

“You don’t have to—”

“I’m on it,” he says, refusing to accept any of Martin’s guilt-laden excuses, and dashes off to the kitchen at once, leaving Jon and Sasha still vaguely holding onto him in the fear that he might fall again.

“I’m alright, guys, really,” he assures, though he makes no effort to shrug their hands off—so there they stay.

“Do you know what caused this, Martin?” Sasha asks, folding his collar from where it sticks up at the nape of his neck.

With a heavy sigh and an exhausted pinch to the bridge of his nose, Martin replies, face reddening with shame.

“Yeah. You’re—you’re going to laugh.”

“Why would we laugh?” Jon asks so earnestly, so softly that it wins him a long and surprised look from Martin.

“I…dunno really, just. It’s just that it’s—it’s all my own fault. Stupid.”

“What do you mean?”

“I—I don’t—” he cuts off for a moment to hiss painfully as he rubs at his temple again, and Sasha’s hold tightens ever so slightly as a precaution. “I don’t have my…seizure meds with me. I left them at my flat when—when I ran. From Prentiss.”

Of course.

Of course he did.

“I would have gotten them for you Martin!” Tim shouts as he returns with the water. “Any of us would, mate. You should have said.”

“I didn’t want to send you back to my flat. She might…she might still…be there.”

He fades a bit as he speaks—rubbing once more at his temples, and Sasha resumes her ministrations of massaging his neck.

“Alright, just—it’s alright, Martin,” Jon soothes, a bit alarmed at the way he’s hunched back over—seemingly nauseous again, as he moves the bin a bit closer to himself just in case. “What can we do now?”

After a few long, deep breaths, his churning stomach finally settles long enough for him to answer, albeit a bit more vague-sounding than moments before.

“I tried…I tried to call the chemist, but…they won’t refill it unless I…unless I talk to my doctor. And it’s not like I can just go.”

“You have to get some from A&E then,” Tim insists, sitting back down next to him and pressing a hand atop his shoulder.

“No, I can’t.”

“We’ll go with you,” mutters Jon, before clearing his throat, returning to his best confident-boss tone. “We’ll keep watch for the worms. Go prepared.”

“You don’t—“

“We will,” Sasha says emphatically, leaving no room for argument—and even Martin knows when the battle is lost. “We’re happy to do it, Martin. Seriously.”

“Thank you,” he very nearly whispers, face flushing beet red as the undue attention of the afternoon catches up with him. “That’s really…too kind.”

“Well, you’ve got to get it somehow, mate,” Tim says with a chuckle, earning himself a warning glare from both Sasha and Jon. “What? I’m sure Martin wants this to happen again even less than we do. Which is saying a lot.”

“Yeah,” Martin says, surprising them all by chuckling briefly in return. “Reckon you’re right about that. I didn’t—this is pretty much my worst nightmare, so…just so you all know how sorry I am.”

“Yes, you’ve said,” Sasha laughs. “And it keeps continuing to not be your fault.”

“Right. Sure.”

He does not sound at all sure—but she lets it go all the same.

“We should go today, Martin,” Jon says as he stands, already grabbing a canister of CO2 in preparation. “Don’t want you to miss another dose.”

“And take that thing on the Tube?” Martin laughs, fully smiling for the first time since the whole affair began. “Think we might get some looks.”

“It’s the Tube, mate. Stranger things have happened,” Tim chuckles, rolling his eyes good-naturedly before jumping in to assist him in standing.

“Suppose you’re probably right about that.”

“Let’s go then,” says Jon, face steeled as if armed to the teeth and ready to tangle with anything coming his way. “Work that needs doing.”

[ijustlovetim]

Chapter 15 of my jmart soulmate au is up

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27064663/chapters/70291281

[welcometogrouchland]

if ur still looking for drawing recs may I suggest a tim and sasha clothes swap? or perhaps martin meeting the admiral. I am very pissy that they didn't meet in canon.

[ID: a digital drawing of Tim Stoker and Sasha James from the Magnus archives. Tim is a depicted as a slightly stocky Southeast Asian man with brown skin, facial moles, and dark hair. Sasha is depicted as a thin black woman with dark brown skin and two-toned brown curly hair in a ponytail. Sasha is wearing Tim's clothes (a loose yellow shirt with an orange collar, cuffs and patterned collums down the front, along with blue jeans and white sneakers), and Tim is wearing Sasha's clothes (glasses, a beige button up shirt that is slightly too small for him, a long brown skirt, polkadot socks and grey slippers). The background is a blue, purple and pink starburst. Sasha leans against Tim, relaxed, while Tim stands with his hands in his pockets, making a quizzical face at Sasha. End ID]

Literally only had time for a sketch this week BUT!!! I MISSED DRAWING THEM SO BAD

[cryptidcharlie]

“I know it’s hard to hear, mate, but you’re not the love interest.”

[starssssss]

I would do anything at all to make you so happy

[yaboyspodcastpalace]

i think timartinsasha has much potential as a ship but also i just think its very funny to think martin and sasha working at the archives as professionally as possible ("") & pretending they didnt just walk in on the other heavily making out w/ tim like, yesterday

[overdramatic-queer-antagonist]

Sasha James Did Not Know

Hey um??? I wanted to write a Sasha-centric fic and I wrote this???? I’m so Sorry??? 

fic under the cut

Sasha James didn't know she was going to die. How could she? Sasha was a healthy young woman. She didn't do drugs, didn't drink often. The only real danger Sasha was in was those damn worms. That being said, the moment she stepped into artifact storage, she knew she wouldn't be stepping out. It wasn't a fear per-say or a dread, Sasha just Knew plain and simple. She never liked artifact storage. In fact, if Jon hadn't requested her for the archives, she would have turned in her letter of resignation the next day. It always felt like she was playing with something that would be the death of her. Even so, it wasn't anything she had messed with during her time there, nor was it the worms accosting the institute outside. No. She Knew that what was about to kill her wouldn't be something she recognized. She thought for a second that maybe it was Michael, coming for her, but no. It wasn't. That was far too personal. Whatever was going to kill her didn't know her name. She found herself walking up to a table in the center of the room. She'd seen it before and she Knew- no just knew- that Jon had done a statement on it. What was it? Oh yeah, that man's life had been taken over by that thing. Was that it? She did not know, which gave her all the answers she needed. It was at that moment she saw something move out of the corner of her eyes. A stretched, contorted figure that, coincidentally, looked like the man in every photo of Mr. Graham Folger she had been able to find. So she was right. Finally, she felt the fear bubbling up inside her. She was going to die, she didn't want to, but she was going to, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. The was no point in waiting for it to pounce, she decided. She wouldn't give it the satisfaction of terrified prey. "Hello?" She asked, breaking the deafening silence that had manifested in the room. It tried to hide, but if she couldn't run then neither could it, "I See you. Show yourself!" Sasha was not unconscious when she died, but she didn't feel a thing. Not that it was a painless death. Far from it, in fact. But she was too wrapped up in her own thoughts to feel much. She was dying, Dying while her friends were out there being accosted by some worm freak. She couldn't stop them she couldn't save them she- Sasha's thoughts landed on Jon first- well as 'first' as something can be in the split-second between life and death- But she couldn't help feeling sad. Back before the archives, he was so nice. Always standoffish and a bit strange but never as cruel and hateful as he was now. What had happened? Was it the archives? Did he- He was scared. She Knew that, and it made her blood boil. She could have been The Archivist. She didn't think that in a place of jealousy but a place of love. She could have been The Archivist and spared Jon from all that pain and torment that she Knew he would feel. She thought back to just before the Archives. Jon had gotten promoted, and the three of them had wanted to celebrate. Her, Jon, and- She was the designated driver, and to her delight, Jon and- Jon went off ranting about- God, what was it called? Some book he had read and absolutely despised. She remembered laughing at the time, but she thinks she actually avoided it. Then there was Martin. Poor Martin who lied on his CV to take care of a mother who treats him like shit. Sasha felt bad for Knowing that one, actually. There was a lot of Martin tried to hide. Some things she Knew about, like his depression, but others she just knew, he loved tea, and he wrote poetry, and he has a hopeless crush on a coworker although he would never tell them who- Jon of course. If Sasha wasn't dying, she would have laughed. But Jon treated him so poorly. Of course, she Knew that would change, and that those feeling were reciprocated but Martin didn't. Martin and his blind faith that led him to forgive his mother over and over even though she didn't deserve it. Martin, who was so determined for Jon to like him. Martin who would let himself be caught up in a trap that he could see. Making himself suffer so others didn't have to. She remembered their first day at the Archives. Martin was already in hot water with the boss, but he still took his break early so he could drop the stray off at the shelter. Even as he was shaken and terrified that he would lose his job, he just had to make sure the dog was safe. Sasha tried not to think about Tim but this was her last chance and she knew that without having to Know. Tim. Her best friend. Who helped her get Jon drunk, who theorized on who Martin could possibly like that much with her, who threatened to punch Elias's-no Jonah's- sexist lights out for her. Tim and her would stay at each other's flats; drunk, and laughing, and -sometimes- kissing. Did she Know he was in love with her, or did she just know?  Maybe he wasn't and it was just her dying brain trying to give her a little more hope. Did it even matter any more? She was just leftover thoughts. Why spend time focusing on Tim's smile, or how warm his hands were, or how his eyes sparkled when he knew he made a particularly horrendous joke? He always promised that he'd take her kayaking someday. She tried to pretend that that's where she was. Yeah. The four of them had gone on a kayaking trip. Jon and Martin were in one boat, Tim and Sasha were in the other. Jon was rattling off facts about the local wildlife, and Martin was looking at him like he hung the stars. Tim turned around to kiss Sasha and ended up flipping the kayak. Jon and Martin were too wrapped up in each other to notice. Tim was swimming up to them, gesturing for Sasha to be quiet. Quickly he grabbed the kayak and they both fell in and. And. and. and an a Sasha James did not know when she died, and maybe she never will.

[iiiumihottie]

[ID: A drawing of Tim and Sasha from TMA wearing various Pride clothing. They lie down on an abstract background and smile at eachother. Tim has a hand lying on his chest, and another arm around Sasha. He wears a sleeveless, cropped shirt with the bisexual flag colors, and the colors of the trans flag on his bicep. He’s depicted as East Asian and pale, with cropped black hair. Sasha has her arms crossed and wears a tank top with the aromantic flag colors, as well as a Philadelphia pride flag pin on her chest. She’s depicted as black with dark skin and coily brown hair. End ID.]

platonic pride timsasha for @archivalpride week one! this is for the prompt friendship 😌

(click for quality)

[hexfrogs]

i never shut up about my playlists! so here they all are in one spot <3

TMA:

i eat trauma for breakfast. my og tma mix. covers most of the show (plus the entities) in semi chronological order. statement begins etc.

rose colored boy. a martin blackwood mix (with some martim to taste)

you gonna call it, or am i? a timsasha mix

rogue element. a tim stoker mix

what do i do with this? (a love that won’t sit still) a (jon heavy) jonmartin mix

about to scream and moan and throw up jontim hell on earth brain rot hours

tempest 🌧⚡️☔️ an avatarsona mix. mainly vast and lonely, but a little extinction for flavor. vibes!

songs to homoerotically light a friends cigarette to. vague gerry vibes. self indulgent. good playlist though.

nihilism looks good on you king. mostly just Vibes. but it’s also kind of an end!tim playlist so.

shut up and dance with me etc might be the most abstract tma mix because it’s just fun n flirty dance music and could be under misc but I’m putting it here because i made it specifically to daydream about martim to so. club/slight disco dance vibes.

MISC:

songs to be gay and evil to. what else is there to say.

stardew🌻🍒✨ background tunes. great music to listen to while playing stardew valley, just vibes.

hexcore🍒 this is what my gender sounds like. im the target audience but it’s good music so? have a listen.

[holliday-inn]

I need to post Em together, but here’s my Timsasha <3.

Reblogs > likes

[Image ID: In the first image, two women stand next to each other. One is slightly shorter than the other. The woman on the left has warm colored dark skin with short orange and blonde hair, tied into a bun. She wears a black sweater with a pink vest, purple trousers, and dusty pink combat boots. She holds a cane in her left hand, and wears Grey square frame glasses. She also has a single earring with a moon on it and two necklaces. She is labeled Sasha James. The woman on the right is a bit taller than the left, with slightly cooler toned dark skin and the same orange and blonde hair. Her hair is much shorter. She wears darker grey glasses, a dark green sweater, and light green skirt. She has green flats and ankle high socks. She holds a cane between both of her hands and looks to the side with a grin. She is labeled Not!Sasha. In the second image, a brown skinned man stands alone on a red background. He has curly red-grown hair down to his neck, and a beard the same color. He wears a red and green Hawaiian shirt, khaki pants, and mulberry colored sneakers. He is labeled as “Tim Stoker.”

[ao3feed-jonmartin]

a (ka)hoot and a holler

read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/zu0xE7s by weepingbarbarianfury It's the end of their shifts. A game of Kahoot is hosted. Words: 2864, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: The Magnus Archives (Podcast) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Characters: Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Tim Stoker (The Magnus Archives), Sasha James, Martin Blackwood Relationships: Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James/Tim Stoker, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist Additional Tags: Season/Series 01, pre-worms, brief mentions of workplace related anxiety and being ill, coworker banter, Background TimSasha, blooming jonmartin, jon is just so angry about Feelings, tim and jon used to work together in research, They're so silly, no i didn't have this beta read before publishing, we kayak like tim read it on AO3 at https://ift.tt/zu0xE7s