TMA Body Positivity Day

He’s transgender because that’s just what I do, I hit characters with my beam when I enter a fandom. He’s also pre-op because he’s just had consistently bigger problems to deal with at the archives

The tattoo is a small headcanon I have, related to ep 131!! It’s a small anchor with an eye design over his ribcage. Because, y’know, Martin was Jon’s anchor in the buried more than Jared’s rib stealing stunt, but they were still pining back then so I have to say it for them

Prentiss worm incident scars if you squint!! I also gave him stretch marks because he’s just a cool dude like that

This one’s projection, but I feel like he would’ve had a rough time as a teenager so I gave him self harm scars. They’re faded now, but these things are important to acknowledge in my view of body positivity. Some people have scars they can’t change; that’s okay

I love Martin he’s a ginger because I think he was just owed that swag

He brushed the now completely gray hair out of Jon’s face with a hand now covered in wrinkles and the dark spots of age. Jon leaned into his touch without waking. He’d have to move him eventually — his back would hate him if he fell asleep like this — but for now, he could let Jon sleep.

Honestly, it was a bit of a miracle. There had been so many times that he was certain he was going to die, or that Jon was. Or that both of them were. But here they were, an apocalypse and a lifetime later, fully settled into a blissfully mundane existence. Being old felt like an accomplishment.

Gently, he ran his fingers over some of the exposed worm scars on Jon’s cheek. They were faded, but still visible enough to get the occasional stare from strangers.

Martin still had a lot of regrets, and he’d had a lot of time to think about them. If you asked him decades ago, he would have listed all the moments he might have been able to save the world. But now, if he were to rank them, all the times he failed to tell Jon what he needed to hear at his most vulnerable moments would be at the top of the list.

The scars were just one small example. For ages, Martin had hated Jon’s scars. Not because of any shallow or cruel reason. But every one of Jon’s scars represented some pain Jon had felt, some tragedy Martin had been unable to save him from. So, he’d seen reminders of the past that would never fade.

And so, there had been the moments when he’d assured Jon that he didn’t mind. That he was beautiful anyway. The times he’d said the scars didn’t matter, even though they did. He’d thought they’d been good words, comforting words. But they’d been wrong.

He got it now, rather too late (although Jon assured him it wasn’t.) That Jon needed every one of his scars to be kissed and treasured.To be told that he shouldn’t have to hide them for anyone’s comfort.

Now, he understood that when he told Jon how lovely he was, he couldn’t let there be an “anyway” or a “despite.” That there should never be a qualifier on that statement. Every mark Jon bore was part of him, so therefore it too was beautiful.

When Martin thought of the scars that Jon bore that were beneath his skin, his regrets grew even deeper. Jon’s experiences had marked him in many more ways than the physical. These scars included his need for statements, the way he had to regurgitate the horrors he’d seen, the way he was no longer quite human…

Martin knew what he thought he’d been saying in those cases. He thought he’d been saying “I hate that this is happening.” Or “I hate what’s been done to you.” Or even just “I’m frustrated with this situation.”

It had taken years of recovery in this new world for Jon to finally confess that what he had heard was “I don’t accept all of you. I hate these parts of you and wish they’d go away. I don’t acknowledge them as a real part of you, so it doesn’t matter if I reject them.”

Not for the first time, Martin’s heart had broken. He couldn’t fix the past, but he’d resolved to do better. Because there was nothing more important than letting Jon know he was loved.

It had taken him time to learn better words. To learn how to gently kiss every one of Jon’s scars while telling him how gorgeous he was. To tell him that nothing that had been done to him, no changes he’d gone through, either mental or physical, could make him any less perfect.

He grinned ruefully at his reflection and shook his head slightly. Getting to the point where he loved what was looking back at him had been a hell of a process. Because if showing Jon he loved and accepted him properly had been a challenge, learning to accept himself had at one time seemed like a pointless impossibility.

He’d never liked what he saw when he looked in the mirror. Not since childhood. He’d always seen his weight, his body that seemed to take up so much more space than it should. He’d spent years trying to make himself look smaller, less threatening. Less like a person who was taking up room they had to right to. He saw a body that often couldn’t keep up, couldn’t help when he needed it too. And then, thanks to Elias, he’d learned that the face staring back at him was that of his father. The man who’d abandoned him as a child without a second glance. It had taken years before he’d stopped thinking of that every time he saw his reflection.

And he’d often imagine that other things, hidden things, must be as clearly visible to everyone else as his face. It was no wonder that the invisibility the Lonely offered had been such a temptation. Because when he looked at himself, he’d see his own failures, surely as if they were written on his skin. Every time he’d failed to act. Every time he’d pushed people away and hurt them. The fact that something within him still occasionally needed space when that was the opposite of what Jon needed, and the fact that he still occasionally would say the most thoughtless things when he was irritated or frustrated.

But now, even though he still occasionally nursed old hurts or glared at his graying reflection, he’d found a sort of peace.

This was a body that had trekked through the apocalypse. It was a body that was good at cuddling and holding (even if this currently meant accepting that Jon was pressing his rather cold nose and hands into Martin’s slightly exposed stomach.) And it was a body that was still capable of picking up Jon and moving him to the bed, even if he really probably shouldn’t be doing that anymore at his age.

He was going to anyway. Until he physically couldn’t.

And Jon, his Jon, who had spent so much time being tormented body and soul, was beautiful. He wasn’t beautiful because of it. He wasn’t beautiful despite it. He simply was beautiful, inside and out. And every mark on his body was beautiful because it was a part of him.

Martin wondered what strangers would think if they could see them. Maybe they’d see the flab and the wrinkles. The way Jon’s hands shook a bit now, or the way Martin now needed to hold his glasses away from his face a bit in order to see. Maybe, they’d just focus on the scars. It didn’t matter.

Because he knew what he saw in that blurry reflection in front of him, and he knew that if he could take a picture, make a painting, project this image into the stars for all eternity —he would in a heartbeat.

Because despite - no, not despite. That word had no business in this conversation. Never despite.

Because with the signs of age and past torment. With the fact that both of them could be incurably grouchy old men. With every single scar, both the ones that could be seen and the ones they both bore inside their hearts.

Because with all of this… Martin knew there had never been a more beautiful sight. Because here they were, after everything. Still with the strength to hold each other. So every inch of both of them was perfect.

Martin must have been deeply lost in thought, because he completely failed to notice that Jon had woken up until he said, “Watching something good?” Jon’s eyes looked towards the blank screen that Martin had been engrossed in, then back over to him. He quirked an eyebrow in amusement.

“You know what, yeah,” Martin said, running his fingers through Jon’s hair. “I was.”