celosiaa

[celosiaa]

Everyone will know who they are.

#they are so dumb #I love them #adsom

[celosiaa]

The Maresh brothers from Shades of Magic, not being in a life or death situations for once. Not ripping my heart out like usual.

#IM GONNA SCREAM #adsom #shades of magic

[celosiaa]

Kell Maresh from the Shades of Magic trilogy by @veschwab

[ PRINTS ARE AVAILABLE, CLICK HERE ]

Finally got around to drawing my favorite character! Background inspired by Qistina Khalidah's Queen of Peace.

#love love love #shades of magic #adsom

[celosiaa]

Y’all wanna see something horribly sad? This is the place for you. If you’ve read the beginning of a conjuring of light you know this scene and it broke my heart so much i had to draw it to get it out of my system.

#adsom #tw blood #THIS IS INCREDIBLE THANK YOU

[celosiaa]

dialogue prompts for ~injury~

!!please credit/tag me!!

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit, c’mere.”

“Someone get the medic. Get the medic!”

“Hey, hey, shhhh. Shhhh. You’re okay.”

“You did so good. Don’t worry, you-you did so good.”

“Here, lean on me. I can carry you.”

“We’re gonna fix you up, brand new. I promise.”

“No. No, stop. Stop talking like that. You’re gonna be fine.”

“Okay. Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do—fuck.”

“I know, I know it hurts.”

"I don't care. I'm not leaving you."

“I’m going to lift you up, okay? Tell me if it hurts.”

“Where are they? Where are they?!”

"I would believe that you're fine, but you have a goddamn knife sticking out of your leg, so."

"You just watched them die."

"This is going to hurt, okay?"

"God, I'm so sorry, it'll be over soon, I promise."

"How many fingers am I holding up? ... I don't have six fingers."

"Stop. No. Wake up. Wake up! I said wake up!"

"I came as soon as I heard."

“Get away! You’re hurting them!”

“Please be okay. Please be okay, please be okay—”

“Shit. Shit, that’s a lot of blood.”

“You dumbass. Don’t do that. Ever again.”

"Help them! Please!"

"You scared us all back there. I... Including me."

"[name]? [name], this isn't funny. Stop... please..."

"Breathe... breathe. Look at the stars, kid."

"It was supposed to be me... please, no, [name], please..."

"Tell me where it hurts, and be specific."

“You’ll be fine.” *silence* “You’ll be fine. Hey! Wake up! Please. Please wake up…”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

#ohohohoho #just fyi in my server we've been talking about a tma figure skating/hockey au #and this is so choice for that purpose #also lmk if you wanna hear about it #i know nothing about figure skating or hockey #but we're having an excellent time

[celosiaa]

I don’t remember if I ever posted about my new kitty but this is Chai 🥰

#she’s an angel #and she and poppy are best friends

[celosiaa]

Compelled.

IMG Description below:

Keep reading

[celosiaa]

Martin gets the tea, and Jon starts steeping it. “No caffeine, eh? Normally you’re a bit of a caffeine fiend.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“I would.”

Jon smirks just a bit at that. “I’m…trying to be better about it. It—well. It certainly doesn’t make me feel any better on days like this.”

“Oh?”

“Past few days have been. Well. You probably noticed.”

“You did look a bit peaky.”

“That’s kind. Tim said I looked like a piece of gum on the sidewalk that he was about to have to scrape up off the ground.”

“Timothy!”

“Indeed.”

hmm,,,,,, ambulatory wheelchair user Jon

#in my writing jon has pots and eds #tma #the magnus archives

[celosiaa]

Tim and Sasha have seen him use his chair before. So when he comes to work using his chair one day, they’re not shocked—Jon hasn’t been doing well over the last few days, and they’re frankly relieved that he’s doing what he needs to be safe. And it’s nice to see Jon have some color to his face instead of the constant pallor of the past few.

Martin has never seen him use a chair before—and he can’t help the worry that gnaws at him. He spends the day battling with himself over the knowledge that Jon’s reasons for using the chair today are of course not information he’s entitled to, or whether he ought to at least acknowledge that something is going on to let Jon know that he cares.

He ends up in the break room at some point that day and Jon enters the room. Jon locks his brakes and stands, reaching over his head to get a mug down from the cabinet. But it must make him lightheaded, because Martin sees him put his arms down and brace against the counter for a few unsteady breaths, before he ultimately sits back down. Martin stands and steps a bit closer toward him.

“Can I get that for you?” He asks, as Jon works at catching his breath.

“Erm—yes, thank you. Martin.”

Martin gets the mug down for him. “Were you gonna make some tea? I’m happy to make you another cup if you like. Or-or not. Obviously.”

Jon looks up at him, arching an eyebrow as he sputters. Martin feels his face heat, and Jon seems to land on having mercy on Martin, looking away. He turns his attention instead to switching on the electric kettle and opens the drawer to look through the tea bags.

“Thank you, Martin, I—actually, do you know if there are any teas without caffeine somewhere?”

Now that, Martin can do. “Oh!! Yes, yes I’ve got some, just a moment—“

“Oh no, you don’t need to give me your own tea.”

“It’s no trouble! I’ve got plenty, I don’t really drink decaf. Just. I’ll be right back—wait here?”

Jon heaves a long sigh. “Very well.”

hmm,,,,,, ambulatory wheelchair user Jon

#tma #the magnus archives #in my writing Jon has pots and eds

[celosiaa]

hmm,,,,,, ambulatory wheelchair user Jon

#tma #the magnus archives #thinking so many thoughts

[celosiaa]

[ID: two digital greyscale drawings of Jonathan Sims and Martin Blackwood from The Magnus Archives. Jon is depicted as a short, thin British-Pakistani man with many scars, and Martin is depicted as a tall, fat Vietnamese-Polish man with glasses.

Image 1 depicts Jon rescuing Martin from the Lonely in episode 159. Against a cloudy grey background, Martin, washed out, stands with his arms limp at his sides, looking vacantly aside. He is wearing a blazer. Jon wears an overlarge cardigan that fans out behind him as he reaches for Martin’s face with both hands. Many tendrils of negative space curl around Martin, and a few break over Jon’s legs and flow between his fingers.

Image 2 depicts the final moments of episode 200. Jon, unraveling into magnetic tape, floats in mid-air while Martin, standing on the ground, begins to drive a knife into Jon’s chest, cutting the tape. Blood rises from the wound, floating upward, the only color in the drawing. Jon gently touches Martin’s face and supports the arm holding the knife, while Martin sobs through gritted teeth and holds onto Jon’s wrist. The dark backdrop is lit by a beam of light behind Jon, which highlights the negative space between the ribbons of tape that compose Jon’s body. End ID.]

these drawings ended up being parallels of a sort so thought i would share them together for. maximum pain :,) if anyone’s wondering i’m still inconsolable about Them

#WOWWWWWWW #I’m in love with both of these but the tape unspooling in the second one #oh my god dude so good

[celosiaa]

IV/Cannula

hehe this is for day 1 of mediwhumpmay, which I am now posting in October

tw: emeto, hospital setting

“Hey, there you are. Keep those eyes open for me, Blackwood.”

“Mmm…wh?”

Everything feels so, so heavy—god, he can barely see. His eyes must drift closed again, because before he knows it, the voice is back, this time pinching the skin on the inside of his arm.

“Eyes open, Martin, come on.” Pinching again.

Gauging his responsiveness, he knows. The thought floats above the whirling pool of all the others. His eyes flutter open, an effort to reassure the voice he slowly comes to recognize as the voice of his junior partner, Ben.

“Ff…fuck,” he moans, squeezing his eyes shut as soon as he opens them. The vertigo was too much to bear—and with an awful rising feeling in his gut, he curls further onto his side and vomits.

The effort of this exhausts him, and he must lose time, for the next thing he is aware of is the earth rumbling beneath him. He prepares mentally for the end of the world, again—but upon fluttering his eyes open again, he discovers that the ambulance had just hit a bump in the road.

Ambulance. I’m at…work.

He snaps his eyes open again at the thought, attempting to sit up, only to find himself strapped into something.

The stretcher.

“Lie back, Martin, just relax—“

Darkness.

—

Jon hates the hospital. Hates it.

He would do just about anything to avoid coming here, especially to A&E. The crowding, the noise, the smell of antiseptic…the desperation of all the people waiting for hours upon hours to be seen.

He doesn’t understand how Martin can cope with this every day.

It’s already been a long walk from the train station, and Jon’s heart is pounding—from this as well as the call that he’d received from Ben, telling him that his husband collapsed on the job and is being cared for here.

Jon knew he shouldn’t have gone into work that day. And he’d told him as much, many times. Martin had been ill over the holidays, but due to the nature of his work, had needed to go in anyway. Especially with the increased number of accidents, injuries, and illnesses that tend to make themselves known during this season. Added to that, a bug had been working its way through their ranks, taking down one medic after the next. Martin had assured Jon that he felt alright enough to cover for his indisposed coworkers, but…

Obviously, that had not been the case.

With a sigh, Jon leans a little heavier upon his cane, still in the triage queue. He needs to calm down, not let this frustration get the better of him. As much as an “I told you so” might be warranted here…god knows Martin had spared him many such conversations that Jon himself had certainly deserved.

At last, the person behind the desk waves him forward.

“I’m here to see my husband, please.”

“Name?”

“Martin Blackwood-Sims. I was told he’s in bay thirty-three.”

“Hmm…” They click around on their computer a few times before looking back up at him. “Looks like he’s on respiratory precautions. Please take a mask to protect yourself.”

Jon sighs, the anger bubbling up in his chest again.

I told you, Martin. I told you.

Not helpful.

He swallows it the best that he can, fitting the loops of the mask over his ears before following the nurse through the double doors.

“Straight back this way, and you should see him,” the nurse says, and turns back to their post.

Jon hadn’t needed the directions. From where he entered, he saw him—his husband, pale faced, propped up on several pillows and getting an IV placed.

Be calm. Breathe. Breathe.

Jon hates this; god he hates it here—and he’s absolutely livid that Martin never listens to him, and now look where it’s gotten him. Now they both have to be here, with all the people and the noise and the memories—

He feels suddenly quite weightless in the relentless onslaught of emotions, and wishes desperately for somewhere to sit. Not by Martin, not quite yet. Everything is all tangled up in itself, in the past, in the fear of this place. And his husband needs him calm. Calm and supportive, just as Martin has done so many times for him.

Braced against the wall of the corridor and his cane, Jon allows his eyes to fall closed, to focus on his breath for a moment. It’s just this breath. And the next. And the next.

Bless Martin for teaching him this technique.

When he opens his eyes, he feels a gentle wave of calm. Not perfect, but it will get him through and allow him to be there for Martin, who is now alone in his bay, eyes closed and exhausted.

That is, until they reopen and alight on Jon, walking toward him. Immediately, Martin’s hands reach up to cover his face—the tips of his ears reddening with shame, even as the rest of him retains that unnerving pallor.

“Oh God, Jon, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Martin…”

“I swear I didn’t mean to—to cause such a fuss, I didn’t—“

”Martin,” Jon pleads, more forcefully this. Time as he eyes his oxygen saturation on the monitor. “Breathe, habibi. You’re alright.”

As the monitor starts to alarm, Martin seems to realize that he’s gasping for air—and that sets him into a coughing fit, worse even than he’d been showing at home. Jon’s stomach drops just listening. And even more so when a nurse comes in to silence the alarm, reaching for the plastic tubing of the nasal cannula that Jon knows all too well.

“That’s quite the nasty cough there, Mr. Blackwood.”

Jon is hit with another sudden wave of irritation—obviously, its a bad cough, obviously, that’s why he’s in the damn A&E.

He needs to calm down before he snaps at someone and makes the whole damned situation even worse.

“Sorry,” Martin croaks, the fit ending. “I’m alright, I—sorry.”

“No need to apologize love. Just keep that oxygen on, alright?”

Saying this, the nurse leaves, and Martin sinks further into his bed, exhausted. Jon’s heart twinges painfully, and he extends his hand to Martin’s—and just as he’d hoped, Martin opens his eyes at the contact, smile weary but warm as he takes his hand in turn.

“What happened, Martin?” Jon asks, desperately. “Ben called me, you know. Told me you collapsed.”

“Oh no—no, love, I’m alright, really, I’m okay. Just took a bit of a tumble.”

Martin gives him another embarrassed smile, trying to sit up straighter, and Jon can’t take it anymore.

“If that’s what you want to call it, fine,” he snaps.

He regrets it immediately. Martin’s face is stricken, smile disappearing, eyes wide.

“I-I’m sorry, Jon—“

“No, Martin, I—“

“Are you okay?”

Martin leans closer, putting his other hand over Jon’s, the one with the IV. Still so pale, clammy. And concerned. Martin is worrying over him, even here while he’s the one in the hospital bed.

Jon takes a deeper breath than he has since he received the phone call, closing his eyes  as Martin gently squeezes his hand between both of his own.

Oh, Martin.

“Thank you,” says Martin softly, “for being here with me, habibi. I know this is…a difficult place for you to be. So thank you.”

That is too much, far too much.

“Don’t thank me,”  Jon chokes around a lump in his throat he can’t quite swallow. “Don’t. I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped, it’s just...”

“Memories.”

“Yes.”

Martin squeezes his hand again, and Jon opens his eyes. Still there, still Martin, despite everything. Jon moves closer, using his free hand to brush Martin’s sweat soaked hair back from his forehead.

“I’m here for you, habibi. I’m sorry.”

“And I’m here for you,” Martin replies earnestly, breaking off momentarily to muffle a chest-rattling cough into his elbow. “We can…we can b—ha, both...”

“Shh, hush now,” Jon whispers lowly, reaching for the call light on Martin’s bed.

“We…we’ve got…each other,” Martin pants, letting Jon anxiously fuss over his blankets and his nasal cannula.

“I know, darling.” He rests a gentle hand on Martin’s laboring chest, a reminder that he’s here, he’s here.

“I know.”

#tma #the magnus archives #tma fic #jonmartin #my writing #in case anyone doesn't know my Jon has POTS #and is also Jordanian #hence the “habibi” #and martin is a paramedic

[celosiaa]

MEDIWHUMP MAY PROMPTS

Mediwhump May. It's dirty medicine.

Welcome to Mediwhump May. 31 days, 31 prompts. The only limit is your imagination.

Don't forget to tag @mediwhumpmay and use your tags #mediwhumpmay

IV /Cannula

Stitches

Seizure

Pain

No Response

Needlephobic

First Night in Hospital

Scared of Blood

Oxygen

Short of Breath

Withdrawal

"Just one more sip."

Surgery

Loss of Consciousness

Nausea / Vomiting

Dizzy

"Stay awake for me."

Stabbing

Emergency Room

Breakdown

Field Medicine

Doctor Becomes the Patient

Bleeding Out

"We've got you now." / "You're safe."

Shaking

Sedation

Car Crash

No Screaming

Head Injury

Choke

Ambulance Ride

Bonus / Alternative Prompts

No Pain relief

Infection

Poisoning

Broken Bones

Teeth

#I do understand that it is. fully October #but I love these prompts and I wanna try writing again #I’m especially in a tma mood

[celosiaa]

Oh god the magnus protocol trailer got me back in the biz

#the biz being thinkin about these characters again #and wanting to put those guys in situations #who’s with me!!!!!!

[celosiaa]

I love them so much

#the house in the cerulean sea #PLEASEEEEEE I CANT TAKE IT #🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣

[celosiaa]

“You silly, delightful man. There is nothing to be sorry for. You fought for us.” - Arthur, THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA by TJ Klune

Here is my contribution to Our Favorite Scene Zine latest edition, which compiled over 20 artists’ interpretations of the reunion scene from THE HOUSE IN THE CERULEAN SEA. This book was my first inroad to TJ’s staggering body of work, and remains one of my comfort books at times when my faith in humanity is challenged, or when parenting two smarty-pants gets particularly hard. 😅 From the outset, I wanted to focus on the kids’ reactions to Arthur and Linus’s reunion, because love is something that children inherit from their grownups, and that joy multiplies as they grow up in safe and accepting spaces. I hope you like how it came out. 💕

#the house in the cerulean sea #thitcs #oh my GOD this is so so so beautiful #perfectly captures what it felt like to read this book #I particularly love your Arthur #his golden curls!!!! please 😭😭😭😭 #so sweet

[celosiaa]

has anybody read the house in the cerulean sea and would you read sickfic for it

#I just finished it today and I’m 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣 #it’s so so full of love #so I of course am thinking about sickfic lol