#or i think sarah jane in the hand of fear? | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

chaosandmarigolds · 12 days

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Festival

based on this AMAZING ask!!

“Oi, Olls,” Simon looks down at the skinned arm and then back to the utterly unaffected five-year-old (who just took a rather nasty tumble off the slide). It was an easy back day at the county fair, which for the record he thought was a horrible idea with a five-month old yet Johnny said it would be fun for Oliver and his niece, Jane. Simon tried to get a good look at the wound, covered in dirt and pebbles, “Lad lemme-”

“Dad-dad, I got go- Janie! Wait up!” Oliver snipped in reply, pulling his arm away and trying to take off after his new friend, and he succeeded, taking off to the next ride wait line- where Jane was already standing among the groups of children and teens with the bright red balloon tied to her wrist.

Of course, he watched the boy run through the crowds and only stood to direct his gaze to Johnny as he stood up, not saying anything but trying to see past the groups to get a good look at the kids- but he could see the red balloon.

“Think the girls are havin fun?” Johnny asked, leaning onto the stroller.

To that Simon shrugged looking down to Tess, who was thankfully very much asleep amidst the loud noises, “‘m sure they are.”

“Shoppin, wine tasting annnn,” Johnny faltered as he thought, looking to the sky as Simon knelt down to fix the baby blanket. Though it was loud and the crowds were bustling it still had a sense of peace about it, small town, small fair but it was enough to make the two kids feel as if they were teleported to the best place on the planet. “An’- gah, Sarah said somethin else, can’t ‘member what though.”

“Jus gettin dolled up or somethin,” Simon mumbled under his breath and then placed a chaste kiss against the baby’s forehead before standing up to his full height, looking around for the same bright red balloon.

Only…the balloon was floating away.

It took about five strides to get from where he had been to the line where Olly and Jane were supposed to be, yet there was a stunning lack of them both.

He must have called the kid's names twice before Johnny had caught on to what was going on, yet the only thing Simon could think of doing was telling him to go get security, he asked the people if they had seen them- his voice harsh and causing the looks on the parent's face’s to pale.

He couldn’t find them.

No one seemed to even see them.

“A little boy- he’s missin his front tooth, striped shirt with a dinosaur on it.”

“I’m sorry man, that sounds like every kid I’ve seen today.”

…

“Jane,” Ollie said slowly following his friend reluctantly through the corridors of the ‘haunted house’ which they had snuck in through the back, since there was a thirteen-plus age restriction on the attraction, “Janie I reaaaalllly don’t think this is good idea.”

To that the four-year-old frowns, her pigtails swinging as she looks at him, the blue light and fog doing nothing to ease his fears, “Uncle Johnny always say we got face fears! An you said you are scared of the scary ghosts.”

“Scary is literally in name, Janie!” Ollie countered crossing his arms, “Uncle Johnny and my dad are gonna be mad.”

Jane shook her head, clawing up on the ladder to reach the main level, “Uncle Johnny doesn’t get mad at me, mum said it’s cus ‘m cute…Uncle Simon might get mad though.”

Ollie frowned from his spot, looking up at her as she began to disappear from the view, he couldn’t leave her alone, he was older than her and his dad did ask him to look over her. So, he swallowed down his fear and followed behind her, the steam and fog making it a bit hard to see for a moment before he was able to stand up again- the lights dim and red and the floor underneath them seemed to be uneasy, red liquid smeared along the rotted wood and the low groan of something was enough to make him want to cry.

However Janie was walking forward, so he quickly followed, moving to walk just a bit in front of her- grabbing her hand and doing his best to act brave when in reality he was not.

Ollie stopped walking when they heard a voice from behind, and he turned to look around for a split second, only for Jane to let out a shrill scream and he turned his head to look ahead again- to only mimic her scream. Shoving her behind himself as what seemed to be a literal monster jumped from behind a barrel.

“Oh SHIT! CUT IT!!”

A voice suddenly yelled, and then the monster ripped off the mask, revealing a normal-looking kid, probably sixteen, “Whoa-hey-hey, you guys- JERRY FUCKIN CUT THE LIGHTS.” The kid screamed at the ceiling for a moment for the overhead lights to flicker back on and the noises stopped.

“Hey,” The kid knelt down to look at the now sobbing children, “Hey, my name is Kyle. How’d ya-oh cmon…it’s okay, I’m not scary.”

“You-you ghost!” Ollie screamed.

“No! No, it’s just a costume, ya know on how on halloween you dress up? I’m jus dressing up, I’m not gonna-oh okay, you’re crying…again, okay…” Kyle tried to explain, then looking to his coworker, Margo who was dressed as a zombie, utterly hopeless about the now two screaming and sobbing toddlers.

…

“Called security,” Margo huffs out as she sits down to look at the toddlers, who were much more relaxed once they offered slushies, and she looks to Kyle, “They said two creepy guys said they lost their kids but thought they were lyin.”

Kyle frowns and leans back in his chair after he and Margo had made a lazy attempt at cleaning off their makeup and explained to the kids it seemed to calm them down, plus the slushies of course. “Hey kiddo, can you tell me your name? So the nice people-

“My dad says to not talk to strangers.”

Margo gives the kid a look and leans forward on the table, “He’s smart, that’s smart- but we need to-”

“Margo-”

“OLIVER.”

It would be an understatement to say Kyle and Margo picked those kids up within a millisecond, because what they saw were two men that could break them both in half within a second and who did not look like father material walking towards them.

“That’s my kid.” One of them barked out, pointing to the little boy, who was just happily sipping his slushy.

Kyle scoffs, “And I’m the fucking king of England.”

To that Margo tried to then play damage control, “Listen, I don’t want to have to call sec-”

“Uncle Johnny we saw scary ghost!!” The little girl exclaimed happily.

“See? That’s my niece and the boys mine. Give me my kid.”

Margo and Kyle exchanged looks and then looked to the little boy, who only caught on when he saw the man’s look and he nodded eagerly, messy hair falling in front of his face.

“That’s Ister Riley he and my mom are married. He’s my dad.”

…

“I jus wanna be brave ‘ike you Uncle Johnny,” Jane said as they drove home, still sipping her oversized slushie.

Johnny and Simon had agreed to not mention this, to act like it never happened, for their sake. “I know, princess, an’ yer so so brave.”

“I no longer scared of ghosts.” Ollie said mindlessly, staring out the window.

That caught Simon’s attention and he looked back through the rearview mirror, checking on Tess with a quick glance and then to Olliver, “Oi? Yeah?”

“Mmmhm, cause ghosts are jus nice people wearin costumes.”

(annnnyway that's it!! feedback and comments are the easiest way to let me know you liked my work!! thanks to everyone for their support!)

#simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #mw2 ghost #dad!simon riley #ghost call of duty #dad simon riley #dad!ghost #coco's chaos <3 #coco’s pre k universe! <3

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haute-pockette · 4 months

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The Doctor's incarnations have fears associated to what caused their regenerations Two acting childlike and whimsical because he's afraid of growing old again. He's scared of becoming a crotchety old man that will die alone. He surrounds himself with friends just as he much with surrogates, to help him feel like he isn't too old to be running about having adventures. Three having a lot of complex and mixed feelings about the Time Lords. He resents them for what they did to him and his companions, but also very scared of facing that fate again should cross their path once more. Four can't stand spiders. They didn't directly kill him, but damn did they play a big part leading up to his regeneration. They give him the willies and Sarah Jane and Romana always have to take care of invading arachnids while he is perched safely on the center console. Five hating heights might actually be canon, he's shown freaking out on a cliff in Castrovalva and hating every minute of a plane ride in Time Flight. Boy likes to keep his feet firmly where he doesn't risk falling. He'll get vertigo if too close to a ledge. Six being scared of getting sick. While this one is more vague, it was the fever of Spectrox Toxemia that kills, so I could see him being panicky and over compensating when it comes to illnesses. Pulls manflu pity every time: bed rest, tea, soup, hot waterbottle on the forehead, reciting rhetoric about his woes. Poor Peri and Mel has to tend to his drama. I can also see him hating bats but in a "why can't you fuckers make more than a tiny vial of milk, asshole???" kind of way. I think Seven's might also be canon (in the books at least) with the way he mentally locked away his Sixth self in fear of the Valeyard. Though he wasn't really a cause for regeneration, he certainly set the Doctor on the path to it. Eight terrified of medicine and hospitals. Aspirin is already deadly to Time Lords, anesthesia fucked up his regeneration. This boy won't go to a medical professional unless he's dragged in unconscious. He will look at broken leg twisted out of shape and claim he can walk it off. The Warrior/War Doctor scared of failing people the way he did Cass. His spirit for hope and brighter ending to the war broken when he regenerated. He became the one that got his hands dirty because he was too scared to let anyone else die under his care.

Nine scared of war. War Doctor held off his regeneration for years to keep fighting, and Nine clearly does his best to step away from the incarnation he hated being more than anything. Like he said, "Coward, any day." Ten is a bit tricky. He's scared of Daleks, losing companions. He's scared that people around him will be willing to sacrifice themselves for him. Scared of the heart of the Tardis, the very soul of time itself ripping away what/who he loves. After Rose is safe from it he was very careful to never let anyone open it again. Eleven scared to see another Time Lord again. He's heartbroken about being the last of his kind. Romana, Brax, Damon all gone. The Master's plans had gotten so much more violent and destructive and insane than they used to be. The other Time Lords so desperate to escape the Time Locked war that they'd destroy time to do it. He's scared of everything ending if the Time Lords return. I haven't really seen enough of Twelve or past that to give proper interpretations on them, but I'm pretty sure Twelve is determined not to be seen as an old man. It's like he sees this new cycle as starting over so he's trying to act like he's the young, rebellious first incarnation? idk

#Doctor Who #Headcanons #Classic Who #new who #Second Doctor #Third Doctor #Fourth Doctor #Fifth Doctor #Sixth Doctor #Seventh Doctor #Eighth Doctor #War Doctor #Ninth Doctor #Tenth Doctor #Eleventh Doctor #Twelfth Doctor

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cowgurrrl · 9 months

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Chosen to Deserve

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (plus platonic!Ellie Williams x fem!reader)

Summary: “How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her? I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin. I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.” - Margaret Atwood [3.6k]

Warnings: all the drama of coming into Jackson, sibling turmoil, talks of Sarah and Jane, arguing, reader and Joel are both kinda dicks in this one but I get it

You hear the horses hooves before Joel can. You grab Ellie's arm and turn to run in the opposite direction when another masked person on a horse comes running up. At least a dozen of them flanking you on both sides and they all have weapons pulled. You don't even try to reach for your gun, and Joel does the same, pushing Ellie and you behind him and raising his hands. You and Ellie follow suit but keep her close enough for your hands to brush against each other. Her breathing is uneven and scared. Joel and one of the men have a conversation, but you can't focus on it. All you care about is Ellie. The man Joel was talking to gestures his gun at her.

"Take five steps back."

"She's not going anywhere." You say, and Joel mumbles your name.

"Shut the fuck up." The man spits.

"Easy," Joel jumps in. You don't know whether he's talking to you or the horseman, but you glare at him anyway. He ignores it and looks past you at Ellie, nodding at her. "You'll be okay." He says. She looks at you for confirmation, and your jaw clenches, but you nod at her scared eyes.

"Do what they say." You say gently, and she carefully takes several steps back. You turn your head to watch her, but a gun cocking turns your attention back to the people surrounding you. The man who told you to shut the fuck up is staring at you through squinted eyes, his shotgun pointed in your direction. You get the message. But she's too far away. You can't even see her in the corner of your eye. You want to grab her wrist and bring her back to you, but you don't move. The man whistles, and a dog appears out of nowhere. You can't remember the last time you saw a dog that wasn't feral.

"Last chance for a bullet," he says. "If you've been infected, he'll smell it, and he'll rip you apart." The dog barks and thrashes against the leash, and you hear Ellie gasp in fear. Goddammit, you think as the dog slinks over to Joel, smelling his shoes. There's no way out. You're too slow, and there are too many guns. You'd barely get your hands on your weapon before they'd kill you.

The dog jumps up on Joel and rears her head back. No one shoots. It must be her clear signal. The dog is called back before she's rereleased, this time to smell you. She repeats the action, and your shoulders drop.

"Satisfied?" You ask, and Joel says your name again like he's scolding you.

"One more." The man says as he rereleases the dog. She starts walking toward Ellie, and your heart beats in your face. You can hear her feet shuffling backward in the snow, and the dog growls at her. Your ears ring as you wait for the dog to knock her to the ground or worse. A bark pierces the air, and Joel jolts with the sound, but Ellie's laugh stops you from running toward her. You turn and see her giggling in the snow with the dog licking her face, completely safe. The dog is called back, and Ellie makes her way back to you. Nobody cocks a gun or yells at her to stop.

"You just bought yourself ten more seconds," the man says. "What are you doing out here?"

"I'm just lookin' for my brother," Joel says. A woman makes her horse walk forward, and you tuck Ellie behind you.

"I'm okay." She whispers, but you don't say anything. You just watch Joel and the woman. She asks his name, and he tells her. She turns back to the man who yelled at you and says something you can't quite hear.

"Lower your weapons!" The woman yells. No one even flinches or tries to question her. They just do it. "We're taking them back with us."

In a few minutes, you're each given a horse and are told to follow the group. The journey "back" to wherever they're leading you takes about ten minutes, and the massive fort-like gate leaves you speechless. Joel glances back at you and Ellie and raises his eyebrows as if to say, "getta loada this shit." You shake your head and glance at Ellie, who has a ghost of a smirk on her lips.

Once you're through the gate, a small city reveals itself. There are people. Like, lots of people. None of them show weapons or look up when you pass. You even see small kids chasing each other with pink cheeks and too-big hats. You can't look at them for too long. There are stores full of food and warm clothes, shoemakers, fucking ironsmiths. You almost think you've fallen into an alternate dimension. You and Joel seem to land on the same person as you get further into town.

He has long curly hair and a dark mustache though he has the same patches Joel has in his beard. They hold themselves the same way, you realize. Like there's too much weight on their backs, but they're doing their best to hold it anyways. He looks good. Healthy. Definitely not in whatever danger you and Joel thought he was in the whole time. Joel calls his name, and Tommy comes bounding down the scaffolding and into his older brother's arms. It's sweet and, by the looks of it, desperately needed by both of the men.

You turn to look at Ellie and see her looking a little lost and the tiniest bit jealous as she watches the teary reunion. You nudge her with your elbow and mouth, "What a baby" to get her to smile. She gives you a small one but falls back into her pensiveness. You slide off your horse to shake Tommy's hand and introduce yourself.

"And this is Ellie," you say, gesturing to Ellie. She smiles and waves but doesn't get off her horse.

"Y'all hungry?" Tommy asks, and that gets Ellie's attention. She finally comes down to the ground, and you all walk to the dining hall.

It's the first hot meal you've had in months. You do your best not to scarf the food down like you want to and keep your manners around Tommy and Maria. Ellie, however, doesn't really care. Joel tries to correct her, and you give him a look.

What? His raised eyebrows ask.

Leave her alone. You jerk your head in her direction.

Look at her. He widens his eyes.

Stop. You roll your eyes and look at Tommy with a smile.

"So, how long have you been in Jackson?" You ask, and he takes a deep breath.

"Uh, a few years now. I bounced around for a while before settlin' here." He says with a soft smile that reminds you of early mornings with Joel. You have to look away.

"Ma'am, we're grateful for your hospitality and all, but it'd be nice to have a moment here just for family," Joel says, looking at Maria pointedly. You elbow him in the ribs, and he gives you another look.

"What?" He hisses.

"You're being rude." You whisper.

"You fuckin' hit me."

"Actually, uh..." Tommy says, reaching for Maria's left hand to bring the matching wedding rings to your attention for the first time. "Maria is family."

It's been a long day. You haven't seen Joel since he and Tommy disappeared into the bar this afternoon. Maria showed you and Ellie an available house you can stay in for the entirety of your time in Jackson, however long. She's been nice to Ellie, but she's made it clear she doesn't care for you or Joel. You're sure she's heard stories from Tommy about Joel and, therefore, can make assumptions about you. Still, she hasn't said anything explicit to you. You expect there to be a fight, though. There's no way there won't be one.

After you take showers and put down your heavy packs, Maria silently takes you to watch a movie in the same place you ate lunch. About halfway through, you glance at Ellie, settled in a chair, and decide to sneak out to the general store for supplies. It takes longer than you thought it would, but you find a new hat and gloves for Ellie. It'll be worth it for when you have to get back on the road. You’re excited to show her but she’s locked in her room when you returned to the house. You try getting her to talk to you, but she doesn’t even open the door. She just yells at you to ask Joel.

"Do you wanna tell me why Ellie is sulking in her room?" You ask as you turn the corner and walk into what used to be the primary bedroom. You find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

"We got in a fight," he grumbles, pulling his head out of his hands to look at you. "Doesn't matter. Tommy's takin’ her to the Fireflies in the morning."

"What?" You ask. What the fuck did they talk about while they were alone?

"She'll be safer with him. Tommy knows Jackson better than anybody. It's better this way."

"I'm sure his pregnant wife would disagree with you."

"Don't start with that."

"This isn't Tommy's fight, and you know that. He doesn't even know about her and-"

"I told him," he says. You blink at him as you try to wrap your brain around what he just said. Anger rolls through you. It wasn't his place to tell Tommy without consulting you first. He can't keep making decisions about her without talking to you. "I told him everythin’, and he agreed to do it. Said it would take him a few days, but he would be fine."

"You're serious." It's meant to be a question, but it sounds more like a statement. His eyes are heavy as he nods.

"We were gonna go our separate ways soon enough."

"You promised Tess."

"I said a lot of shit I didn't mean," he snaps. "You should go with 'em if you think it's so unsafe. I'm sure they could use the extra hands."

"And what're you gonna do?"

"Go back to Boston and forget this ever happened." He says without hesitation. The implication that you would be on his list of things to forget hits somewhere deep in your chest. You start pacing, unsure of what to do with the buzzing behind your molars.

"Jesus fucking Christ, Joel, really? You got into a fight with a fourteen-year-old, and now you're gonna hightail it back to Boston? Just like that?" You scoff, and he stands from his place on the bed, getting in your face. You square your shoulders in a silent dare.

"She brought up Sarah."

"And Jane," you say. "And Tess. And Bill and Frank. And Sam and Henry. You really wanna keep going? Because I can play this game all day."

"Tommy is takin' her to the Fireflies. End of story." He tries, and you squint at him.

"Oh, so you're abandoning her with someone else because it's more convenient for you? Sounds real familiar."

"Fuck you."

"Fuck me? I'm not the one going back to Boston because I'm afraid of a kid."

"It ain't about her. It's about Tommy-"

"Knowing this area better. I get it. But you know what he doesn't know? Ellie," you say. He wavers, stepping back a little, but you don't let him go that easy. "He doesn't know how to take care of her like you do. We've been traveling with her for six fucking months, and now you just want to dump her on someone else because it's hard? Because she brought up your kid? Huh?" You ask, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares past your face. "She's fourteen, Joel. Her job is to push your buttons just to see what comes out. She takes her anger out on you because she trusts you to handle it. She trusts you. We both do. But I swear to God, Joel, if you do this..." You're not sure what threat you wanted to tack onto the end of that sentence, but it dies in your throat. Your chest is pressed against his, and your breathing is ragged. You step away, finally, and make for the door.

Originally, you were going to sleep in bed with him. He even joked about it when Maria mentioned something about the house before you split off. Now, you'll sleep on the fucking couch if you have to. You're angry. You should be slamming doors and stomping down the stairs, but your hand lingers on the doorknob for some reason. You turn back to him.

"D'you really think you're the only person who hurts when you look at her?" You ask. "She... she is everything Jane will never be. I know that. But she's not Jane. And she's not Sarah. She's Ellie, and she needs help. If you can't handle that, then fine. Go back to Boston, but don't blame a kid for something you can't face."

Joel is gone by the time you wake up. No note. No goodbye. Nothing. He even made the bed, so there'd be absolutely no proof he was ever here. You want to fight with him again. You want to yell at each other until you figure it out or come to a place of understanding. You want him to want to figure it out with you. But the world has never been kind enough to care about what you want. So, you brush your teeth, wash your face, and push thoughts of Joel away. You have to get her to the Fireflies safely. One of you should fulfill the promise you made Tess.

When Tommy arrives on the doorstep with a sympathetic look and a rifle slung over his shoulder, you smile softly at him before opening the door wider. He shuts the door behind him as you move to the living room and pull your boots on. He walks over and plays with the blanket swung over the back of the couch.

"You know, there are beds upstairs." He says, and you nod.

"Joel and I got into a fight." You say. He's married. He should know how it goes.

"Seems to be a recurring theme with him."

"Yeah," you finish tying your bootlaces and sit back to look at him. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

"I know. I just... feel like I owe him," he shrugs, the rifle moving with his shoulders, and you sigh. "Plus, Maria's already mad at me bout it. Might as well finish it."

"Both the Miller men seem to be battin' a thousand this week." You laugh. There's movement upstairs, and you take a deep breath. Tommy reaches out and squeezes your shoulder, and you let him. In the twenty-four hours you've known him, you've realized Tommy is gentler, softer than Joel is. Still, Joel told you the stories of how the hot desert sun beat down on Tommy's baby face as he held a gun bigger than him. You know he's just as dangerous as Joel. You just wish Joel bore it as well as Tommy does.

"I should go talk to her." You mumble as you stand. He nods and wishes you good luck before walking up the stairs toward Ellie's room.

A closed door has never been as ominous as this one. You push through the pit of dread in your stomach and knock on the wood, only opening it when you receive a response. Then, like watching fall leaves, you watch her shoulders drop in disappointment. She thought—no, hoped— you were Joel. You walk over and sit next to her on the window seat, putting a hand on her knee and squeezing affectionately. You sit like that for a moment before Ellie frowns at you.

"I really thought he would change his mind." She whispers.

"Yeah, me too." You whisper back. She purses her lips and shakes her head like she's scolding herself for getting her hopes up. You squeeze her again, but she doesn't say anything. She just gets up, throws her backpack over her shoulders, and trudges down the stairs. You sigh and look up at the ceiling, racking your brain for the best way to turn her mood around before following her.

The walk to the stables is silent. You're each trying to settle into this new dynamic, but none of you like it. That seems to be the only thing clear about this whole situation. As you walk through the horse stalls, Tommy tells you something about the distance or the terrain or something. You lose track when you see Joel saddling up the horse you were coming to get.

"You came here to say goodbye or something?" Ellie snaps, but Joel doesn't even turn from what he's doing.

"No. I came here to steal one of these horses and go." His voice is strained, like he's been crying. Had he been crying? In the years you've known Joel Miller, you've never seen him cry.

"I woulda gave you one." Tommy chimes in, and Joel nods.

"I know," he says, finally looking at the three of you. His eyes linger on yours before he looks down at his boots again. "Anyway, that was thirty minutes ago, and I guess..." he trails off and starts walking to Ellie. "You deserve a choice. I still think you'd be better off with Tommy-"

"Let's go." Ellie cuts him off, shoving her bag into his chest with enough force to make him stumble. You fight a smile as you glance between them. This, you think. This is how it's supposed to be.

"Okay," Joel says. Ellie walks past him and to the horse, petting his nose and whispering sweet things. Tommy and Joel share a look of understanding before his eyes flick to yours. "D'you mind givin' us a minute?" He asks Tommy, and he shakes his head. He takes the horse Joel saddled up and Ellie outside before walking to the back of the barn to get another one ready. The air between you is thick as you stare at him, the dried tear marks on his cheeks catching the light, and you should be mad at him. You should curse at him and push him, but you don't.

"You made Ellie really happy." You say instead. He nods and takes a step into you.

"Only Ellie?" He rasps. You take a deep breath and press your tongue into your cheek, fighting the impulse to make a snarky comment. He can see the struggle and smirks devastatingly at you.

"I'm happy," you say. He takes another step closer, his chest hitting flush against yours, and you breathe in the mint toothpaste he used this morning. His lips ghost over yours, but you pull back and look at him intently before he can kiss you. "If you ever make me yell at you like that again, I will make your life a living hell, Miller."

"Promise?" He asks, a teasing lilt to his voice, and you raise your eyebrows at him. "I'm sorry for bein' a dick. I should've listened to you from the start. I'm sorry," he mumbles as he kisses you. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." Kiss. "'M sorry." He trails down your neck, whispering apologies into your skin. You tilt your head to give him a little more room, relishing in the scratch of his beard against your pulse, when you hear Ellie's voice from outside. You slap his shoulder to get his attention, but he doesn't move.

"Cool it, cowboy. There are kids around." You say, and he chuckles.

"Kid," he corrects. "And she's not payin' attention." He says, lifting his head to kiss your lips again. It feels like it's been forever since you've had a moment like this with him, probably since before Tess died. Still, he tastes familiar, and the press of his lips against yours is a comfort. You indulge in it for a few more seconds before pulling away.

"We have to go." You whisper, your voice wrecked from the effect he has on you, and he groans.

"Okay, okay." He relents, prying himself from you, but you catch his wrist before he can get far.

"I'm serious about what I said. I don't wanna feel like I did last night ever again." You say, and he presses his lips into a line before intertwining your fingers.

"I'm sorry for the fight. For bein' a dick. Everything. I'll do anything I can to never do that to you or Ellie ever again, okay?" He says. Reluctantly, you nod and decide to forgive him. You don't have time to be mad at him, and there's nothing you can do to change the past. You can only keep moving forward.

"Okay," you agree. "But Ellie deserves an apology, too."

"Of course." He agrees easily. It's the least friction you've ever had while talking to him. You smile and kiss him one more time before you two walk out to where Ellie and Tommy are waiting with two saddled-up horses. The brothers bid each other a private goodbye, and you thank him for everything. He gives you directions as Joel pulls Ellie up on the horse to settle behind him, and you listen, too, in case Joel forgets something.

Then, as quietly as you arrived, you leave Jackson and its inhabitants for whatever the Fireflies have in store for you three.

#look for the light #joel miller #joel miller the last of us #joel miller and ellie williams #joel miller angst #joel miller hurt/comfort #the last of us fluff #the last of us hurt/comfort #the last of us series #the last of us x reader #the last of us fic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x reader #platonic!ellie williams x reader

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doofus-and-dragons · 9 months

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This will more than likely be the last one of these I have. So, for the last time, here is my live reaction to the final season of TMA. These will be in no particular order because ice been listening to it over the span of a couple of weeks. I only listen to it at work.

TMA S5 Spoilers ahead

The cabin episode made me so sad. The eyepocolypse had even taken away their domestic bliss

I really don't remember the trenches that well. It's not a fear of mine, so it didn't shake me or stick well enough. Still good tho

The sickness episode sent me right back to senior year of highschool. I had to take a minute KXNSKXN

REVOLUTIONS WAS AMAZING I LOVED THE POETRY AND THE ACENGING OF SASHA BY KILLING NOT!SASHA. I love it.

At first I thought the worms was about Jane again but I was very wrong. It was a very interesting take!

Curiosity made me incredibly sad. I feel bad for Eric, Micheal, and Sarah(? Trinity? I don't remember. She was set on fire by a desolation avatar I think)

Also: Gertrude x Agnes perhaps???? Or at least solemn pinning? Maybe I just think it's slightly tragic to make it so and sometimes angst is good yknow?

Roots was ok, but the only part that stuck out to me was the jealous Martin scene. I listened to it like 3 times. I kept rewinding it just to list to it.

Fire Escape was SO good! It gave me a kind of manic energy as I listened to the descriptions of the fire.

Martin in the Lonely again made me cry. That's it.

"Who's this? Your boyfriend?" "Yes actually." "Oh...so is there anyway this doesn't end in me dead?"

The Basira and Daisy stuff actually did make me feel bad for Basira. Like, it's the apocalypse and she's having a whole ass crisis.

SALESA WAS INCREADIBLE

I wonder how he faked his death... man is talented and smart, I'll give him that

Skipping ahead to Martin's domain. Loved that. My boy isn't strictly human and I love that he can't deny that fact anymore.

Martin: Something something "one of you"

Jon, being a smug theater kid bastard boy: "One of us."

Like I heard that and I imagined him smirking ominously and gesturing with both his hands

He sounded so pleased that his boyfriend, as miniscule a role it had or that martin had, was like him, and I love that for him

I'm so glad Melanie and Georgie are happy. Though, the cult does weird me out (cults give me the heebie jeebies. It was a very nice touch!)

They deserve nice things.

Also, my favorite of the Cult members was Anil's character. I can't remember his name right off the top of my head, but he was wonderful. Anil did amazing with that little cameo/role

The scene where's he's arguing with Martin reminds me of that Jojo meme with jotoro and dio, but instead of stands they have their poetry clutched tight in their fists

"I dont need a poet." No, Jon, because you already have one. His name is Martin

Of course Jon gets trapped in the ocean when he doesn't have big string martin to row him out of it XD

SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE SOMEWHERE ELSE

Annabelle Cane is wonderful, I'm so glad Jon didn't kill her. She's so chummy with Martin up until she has to be a dramatic villain and I love that for her!

The ladder episode made me grin like a maniac manly because I would be the Martin in that situation. I love the feeling of falling/floating, but I hate actually getting myself to fall. I physically can't do it. I can barely dive into the lake from my papaw's boat

Martin, there are thousands of fanfics that dive into you two getting together without the trauma. Don't even.

NO JON THE PLAN

Hey, real elias! That's where him being a stoner comes from! Because he is one! Nice.

I love og Elias, and I would protect him with my life I don't care.

Oh wait it was just Magnus dreaming

JON NO THE PLAN FUCKING HELL

I almost cried when Martin was yelling at Jon. The boys are fighting

THE KISS HOLY SHIT ALEX SAKD THEY WOULDNT KISS THEY KISSED AH

They're somewhere else being happy and domestic now you can't change my mind

#basira hussain #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #mag 200 #tma s5 #tma s5 spoilers #melanie king #georgie #their cult ig #mikaele salesa #alice daisy tonner #jonmartin #somewhere else #annabelle cane

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mouthsfullofsharpteeth · 1 month

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YAY!!!!

I'm gonna go nuts

Alex can swing between The Hunt and the Slaughter very well, perhaps even The Desolation. I feel like his earlier kills, such as Seth and Sarah, were Slaughter based, kills of opportunity rather than the meticulous planning and chase of the Hunt. Though later down the line, he's doing nothing but chasing them down, stalking, waiting. An ambush predator that's just waiting for you to turn around so it can pounce. His death can also be considered a piece of the Slaughter, a last-ditch effort, frenzied and fearful.

Tim can be difficult to pinpoint, The Stranger, The Lonely, and The Corruption are all ones that stand out. However, I think I plant him into The Stranger the most. Wearing a face that is not his own, a body out of his control, skin that, for a time, is distinctly not his. I usually mix in the Stranger with a bit of the Spiral as there's a lot of overlap. He can't trust his own mind, can't trust that what's happening around him is real, and can't trust others. Post Marble Hornets, he definitely fits into the Lonely more, however. He has nobody left. They're all gone. He's isolated from society at large.

Jay is The Eye, no doubt about it. He needs to know, needs to see and understand, and put together the puzzle for the sake of his own sanity. He watches and learns and uses the tools he's given. I've done post Canon revival stuff where I interpret him as The Lonely as well. He feels he's the only one who can get this done. Walking a road alone, no one in sight, it's foggy and cold, and suddenly, he's not anywhere. For the world itself has Forsaken him.

Brian was honestly the hardest for me, I want to say The Web, but I want to say The Spiral as well, or perhaps even The Buried. The Web feels more obvious than the Spiral and the buried. He's a sort of leader, pulling you along and plucking at strings so you do what he wants you to, pulling people this way and that for his own purposes, antagonizing and guiding at the same time. Though, truth be told, he's long lost it, He's hardly Brian Thomas anymore. All he sees are secrets and code, riddled with lies and mystery. Nothing is just on the surface as it is. There's always something more. The Buried is simply because it seems as if he can not kill Alex. He had plenty of chances, easy opportunities. Yet he is paralyzed by decision, pinned down by the weight of a life on his shoulders. What would he do after Alex was dead? He couldn't move on. He's stuck like this. A corpse in the dirt pinned at the bottom of the ocean, breathing in the salt water.

Overall, they're all a mess, and they would not survive The Magnus Archives to me. Alex would most likely find himself dead at Daisy's hands, a hunter to kill a hunter. Tim could very easily end up a victim of The Unknowing or even Jane Prentiss. Jay would probably go looking for answers and end up pissing off an Avatar and getting throttled by them, most Likely someone with a firey temper like Jude Perry. Brian might end up in the distortions corridors, going mad with an ever changing layout to traverse and doors that don't go anywhere.

Sorry that this is so long, I went a little crazy, but I just love categorizing characters into the fears it's so much fun.

amazing. i love this

#asks #marble hornets

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aquariusdeanw · 2 years

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today was the 46 year’s anniversary of Sarah Jane leaving the show in “the hand of fear”

I know it’s probably not specifically about her, but I’d like to think that they left an empty chair for her ❤️

#sarah jane smith #doctor who #doctor who spoilers #doctor who the power of the doctor #Classic who

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littlesugarwords · 1 year

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What if Clem and Jane were secretly teaching Sarah how to use weapons so she could she defend herself without telling Carlos worried that he might get mad or freak out?

OOOOO this is gonna be CUTE

“You’re holding it wrong.”

“No, I’m not.” Clem shot back, glaring at Jane’s way.

Jane raised a brow.

“Lee taught me how to do this. I know I’m doing it right.”

Jane sighed.

There was no fighting with that.

There never was.

Sarah sat nearby, watching the two bicker,

Avoiding it, as she often did.

The days were growing shorter as winter approached,

And the crew was gearing up with supplies.

And, in the case of some, with skills.

“You’re wicked with an axe, but your shooting needs some work.”

“Does not!” Clem tossed back.

“Hey,” Luke called out,

Voice testy.

“Be patient, you two. Take it easy.”

Jane crossed her arms,

Bitter, but not discouraged.

Eventually, her eyes landed on Sarah.

Jane smirked.

“Let her try.”

Sarah turned, curious as to who the two were referring to,

And froze when she spotted their eyes locked on her.

“Me?” She gawked, horrified.

There was no way she would be able to handle a gun.

“I-I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Come here,” Jane said,

Gesturing her arm for Sarah to come closer.

Hesitantly, Sarah stood, brushing off her pants.

“I don’t think I--”

Jane placed a hand on Sarah’s shoulder,

Guiding her to Clementine’s previous spot.

“It’s not too hard, don’t worry.”

Jane seemed unphased by Sarah’s worry,

But Sarah was petrified.

Above all, Sarah trusted Clementine.

So if Clementine was okay with it, she knew she could be.

But she was about to operate a gun.

And that scared her all over again.

“Here,” Jane said,

Holding it out to her.

Sarah stared at it in horror.

Clem offered a sweet smile,

Going forward and placed the weapon in Sarah’s hands.

“It’s okay,” she said softly,

And Sarah felt her shoulders, just slightly, relax.

Clementine helped her aim, guiding her arms.

“Do a power stance,” Jane said,

Gesturing to Sarah’s legs.

“Like this,” Clem said, demonstrating.

Sarah meekly followed.

“Hold it like this,” Clementine instructed,

Maneuvering Sarah’s hands around the gun.

“One hand like this, and the other like this,” Clem hummed to herself.

“Then shoot,” Jane said.

“What?”

Clementine shot a glare Jane’s way.

She knew Sarah needed a little more guidance than that.

But, also, Jane was right

“Aim it and pull the trigger,” Clem said,

Placing Sarah’s finger on the trigger gently.

“That’s it?” Sarah asked.

Clem nodded.

“Well, you need to try to hit your target,” Jane said.

The target, in this case, was a single empty coffee can perched on a bench.

Sarah glanced at Clementine.

She nodded, urging her on.

“You can do this. I promise it isn’t that scary.”

Sarah nodded,

Gulped,

Closed her eyes,

Then shot.

And she missed.

She gasped and jumped.

And all stood silent.

Then, Clem and Jane laughed.

Sarah paused, then smiled.

“See? That wasn’t too bad.” Jane said, smirking to herself.

Sarah nodded, smiling at the ground.

She did it.

Even if she didn’t do it well, she did it.

She conquered another fear that day.

And she couldn’t wait to try another day again.

𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘬 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘮 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 💌☕️♡

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dream-beyond-the-fantasy · 7 months

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Prompt-oween Day 2

@occreatorexchange

Prompt: Driving down a dark road late at night. The driver makes up a story to scare the passenger(s).

Fandom: Doctor Who/The Sarah Jane Adventures

Characters: Mike Yates, Molly Yates (OC)

Rating: G

Word Count: 600

Summary: Mike is forced to tell his granddaughter about Autons.

Note: A prequel to my Molly Yates WIP.

Mike Yates was visiting his son and granddaughter. A coworker had set David up on a blind date, so Mike was lucky enough to spend the whole evening with little Molly.

He took her to the playground at Golden Gate Park, where she played for hours. He occasionally read a book, but never let Molly wander out of sight.

Before he knew it, the sun was starting to set. He closed his book and looked around. Mike noticed that the park was practically empty. He remembered that David had told him about an assault and a mugging that had taken place in the park after dark. He saw Molly on the jungle gym.

“Molly, come down.”

The four-year-old pouted at him.

Mike beckoned to her. “Molly, now. It’s time to go. It’s getting dark and we still need to eat dinner.”

Only then, did the girl come down, or rather slid down the slide. As Molly ran to him, Mike noticed that she had a plastic doll in her arms. He frowned. She didn’t have the doll before. Mike told her not to bring any toys, so there would be no chance of losing them while they were out.

“Who’s your friend?”

“I don’t know. She didn’t tell me her name,” Molly replied.

Mike tried not to smile. He took her free hand and they started walking to the car. “Well, where did she come from?”

“Space.”

He faltered. Mike knew children had active imaginations, and Molly was no exception. However, he had experience with things and beings that came from outer space. Not all of them were good. He hoped Molly was just exhibiting her vivid imagination. Best to ask more questions.

“Oh? Any certain planet?”

Molly scrunched her face. Mike nearly laughed. She was too cute.

“P-Poly… Polymos.”

Mike’s laughter died in his throat. There is no possible way she should know that name. The only reason he knew it was because the Doctor had told him back in his early days at UNIT.

Mike crouched down to his granddaughter’s level. “Molly, where did you find it?”

“By the swings.”

“Did you see anyone with it?”

She shook her head, pigtails whipping her cheeks.

That cold fear solidified in his chest. He wished that he had his gun. “Drop the doll now.”

Molly was confused but did as she was told. His tone scared her. She didn’t say anything as he picked her up and ran the rest of the way to the car. He quickly threw open the door and strapped her in. He glanced back over his shoulder, making sure they weren’t being followed before getting into the car himself.

Mike pulled out onto Kezar Drive. The sun had set nearly ten minutes ago.

“Grandpa, why did you make me leave the doll?”

Mike looked up at the rearview mirror, seeing Molly’s frightened and confused face. “Love, you know I was in the military a long time ago?”

“Yeah.”

“While I was serving, an organization called UNIT recruited me. Among other things, we kept humanity safe from alien threats.”

“Aliens are real?”

“Yes, sweetheart, they are.”

“Why does Daddy say they aren’t?”

“Well, love, your dad doesn’t know. We tried to keep aliens a secret from the public for their own good..”

“So, the doll was an alien?”

Mike sighed. “Not the doll itself. But I think that the doll was, let’s say, possessed by the Nestene Consciousness. They control things made out of plastic.”

Molly was on the edge of her seat, eyes wide, as Mike told her about how the Doctor defeated the Autons.

#oc creator exchange #ocx-prompt-oween #ocx-tober #halloween prompt #oc fanfic #doctor who #doctor who fanfic #doctor who oc #mike yates #molly yates #my fic #my oc #ocx-moodboard

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fourmana · 1 year

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i’m coming to the end of the fourth doctors seasons and i’m thinking back to four and sarah because i don’t think i’ll be able to fully comprehend and explain how much i love them two together and them as characters. like how much four cared for sarah jane even if was a bit of a bitch sometimes. that guy in the seeds of doom that put a gun next to her head and the doctor immediately answered his question with absolutely no hesitation.

that one scene too in the hand of fear where they both get on the ground and he covers her head, and even before that when he tells her to stay by the gate but she goes with him anyways and they have that little exchange about how they care deeply for each other but want to be with one another no matter what.

but that’s just my little spiel on four and sarah jane because i truely care so much for them

#doctor who #classic who #fourth doctor #sarah jane smith #foursarah #doctorsarah #i love them more than what i can comprehend #they’re so silly i love them #they share one braincell

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late-to-the-magnus-archives · 10 months

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Peach Pit - a Magnus Archives Fic

An AU Somewhere Else - part of the Magnus Monsterverse series.

Spoilers for the whole podcast.

Something is definitely unusual about Jon's experience with the Eye.

Several cheesy sci-fi explanations and eight Jonah Magnuses later, Jon has more questions than ever - but at least it seems like he might have found a new friend.

AO3

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Manuela’s printout made my head spin.

If I let go, if I relaxed the willed mitosis that kept me sane—that retained me as me and not an It to It— her printout would all make sense.

It tried—pushed that temptation before me, promised without words what utter bliss it would be to know everything here and now.

It would be bliss. I know it would. But that was not what I wanted.

Pleasure is not permission, I told It, because whether or not It understood those words, I did.

“Would you mind explaining what this is and how you obtained it?” I said.

She looked quite surprised. “You don’t just know?”

“I could.” They were all listening. I suddenly wondered if this were a test. “I have no intention of ever giving the Eye unfettered access to my mind again, however, and so, I am limited.”

“Amazing,” said Leitner, clapping his hands together and startling me. “Remarkable. I knew you’d be safe to bring here.”

“Hush,” said Gertrude. “You mean that, do you?”

So it was a test. “Yes.”

“Even if your lover passed away again?” she said, and I didn’t care what Leitner claimed—those were the eyes of someone who would absolutely try to kill me.

But I wasn’t what I once was.

I knew fear. I certainly had plenty of my own. Yes, I was scared of Jane, of Sarah, of what they could all do.

But I was a little bit scary myself, now. Of course, I could probably still die—but I wasn’t sure how anymore.

I had to take a moment to answer. “First… are you threatening him?”

Her eyebrows rose. “No.”

“Okay. Well, there’s no reason to assume he’ll die for a very long time.”

“The Lonely does not extend lifespan,” Gertrude said.

“Yes, but he’s healthy, lacks genetic predispositions toward inheritable illnesses, and currently suffers from nothing so much as a lack of sleep.” I froze, mouth open.

Gertrude’s lips quirked. “Only that, eh? I thought you weren’t knowing things.”

“Apparently, when it’s really important, it slips through,” I said primly.

Gertrude snorted. “Still. You avoided my question.”

“No, I’m laying foundation for an answer. I’m not wracked by fear of him dying.” I stopped, swallowed, continued. “Also, I don’t think I can express how badly depressed I was when this… when he was murdered.”

His hand was my anchor.

“And a thousand years engulfed in that didn’t make it worse?”

“No, because the Eye was trying to comfort me,” I said, because it was true. “It’s stupid, though. Meant well, I truly believe, but is stupid—and so all it knew to do was remove me from the hurt.”

“Meant well?” said Gertrude with great disbelief.

“The Eye loves me. Damned if I know why,” I said.

She stared. “They don’t love people.”

“They certainly do. It just doesn’t generally turn out well for the object of that love.”

They all stared at me. Gertrude looked offended. Manuela looked fascinated. Leitner was unreadable behind his stupid green spectacles.

They were being ridiculous. “This shouldn’t be that strange,” I said. “They may not be living things like us, but they certainly have tastes and preferences.”

“I knew it! ” said Manuela, slamming her fist into her thigh.

“Manuela,” Leitner started.

“They have tastes! Opinions! Thoughts!”

“Only in the most basic sense,” I said. “Look, we’ve dropped off the point: I wouldn’t be great if he died, no. But I wouldn’t do what I did then, either. I don’t know how much you know about what happened, but when m… when…” Martin squeezed my hand, and I could keep going. “When he died, we’d been walking for uncountable time through a living hellscape, a nightmare world in which every living thing capable of suffering did, and all their misery was shoved forcefully into my brain.”

Gertrude frowned. “Wait a moment. Are you saying the world ended before you entered your thousand year state?”

“Yes.”

She frowned harder. “Explain.”

“When Martin died, the world already belonged to the Beholding.”

“How?”

“I was tricked by a man named Jonah Magnus,” I said.

Manuela stiffened.

“What?” Oh, no, I wasn’t letting that go. “What?”

“We just found one,” she said.

I stared at her. “One… what?”

“I mean, we know of eight,” she said, glancing between Gertrude and Leitner and me. “But there’s one who’s actually ready to fetch. His world’s ended. His Fear is feeding on him, and he’s not having a good time. So, I mean. What do you mean, he tricked you?”

So I didn’t know what my face did.

I felt pale. I felt… sort of tingly and numb ( vasoconstriction, the narrowing of blood vessels due to emotional stress). I realized I wasn’t breathing only because Martin came around, knelt in front of me, and cupped my face.

“Hey,” he said.

Him. His eyes. Him. I melted into him, against him, clung to him like a rock in a storm.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered. “You’re okay.”

I was shaking. “You don’t understand who he is.”

Martin knew I wasn’t talking to him.

“We do,” said Gertrude. “Possibly more than you, since you’ve only encountered one of him.”

“No, you don’t know who he is,” I said, sitting up, glaring over Martin’s shoulder. “You don’t know what he’s capable of!”

“Ending the world, evidently,” said Leitner. “Like you.”

“No, not like me! At least the damage I did, I did with my own damn hands!” I snapped.

“Shhh. Jon. I get it. They will too, in time. Shhh. It’s not that one. It’s not that Jonah.” Martin hesitated. “I mean. They said everyone in your world was dead, so it couldn’t be that Jonah, could it?”

“What happened to him in your timeline, Martin? When you had to kill me.”

Manuela flinched at the words—and that was right. That’s how it should be. She had a human heart, and I really, really liked her.

“You killed him,” Martin whispered. “You stabbed him and took his place.”

My jaw dropped. “Oh,” I said after a long moment.

He watched me. Watching for… I don’t know. Some response.

My face burned. “I didn’t stab him.”

“What did you do, then?” said Leitner, sounding absolutely fascinated.

“I ate him.”

“You what? ” said Gertrude.

“I mean… not literally.” Fuck it. I pressed my face to Martin’s shoulder. I didn’t want to see how anyone was looking at me now.

“How?” whispered Martin.

Him, I could answer. Him, I would answer. “After you died. After I… lost myself completely. After I turned to the Eye, because… everything else was already gone. When it had me, when it… eased me. We went to the Panopticon.”

“We?”

“I... I suppose it was an I, but not really. It was we.”

“Go on,” murmured Martin.

I sighed. “Jonah was fine with it. If that matters.”

“Fine with what?” said Leitner.

“Becoming one with the Eye. That’s what he thought of it as.”

“And… what did you think of it as?” said Leitner. “What did you even do?”

“I don’t know how to explain that,” I mumbled into Martin’s shoulder. “The Eye ate him. I was the Eye. But we didn’t literally eat? His body fell and rotted. I don’t know.”

“That’s absurd,” said Leitner.

“It’s incredible,” said Manuela. “Jon. I need to pick your brain. Please.”

I sighed. “I don’t know anything, Manuela. Not really.”

“But your experiences, your impressions—”

“Manuela,” Leitner began in a chiding tone.

“Please, Jon,” said Manuela. “I’ll pay you.”

I paused. “Shit. We do need money here, don’t we?”

Gertrude laughed. She sounded like she hadn’t expected to. “You were floating for a while, weren’t you?”

My face burned again. “Oh, yes. Freed from the demands of Capitalism. How very blessed I was,” I drawled.

“Please,” said Manuela again.

“I don’t think it’s appropriate,” Leitner said.

Maneula flipped him off. He sighed.

Right. She reminded me of Sasha, and had summarily gone from liked to among my favorite people territory. “If you really think it’ll do any good, yes. I will,” I said. “Ah… about Jonah…”

“Let’s discuss that as part of everything,” she said. “Obviously, we don’t want Jonah here if he’s a danger.”

“He is,” I said.

“Let’s find out together! Nothing’s decided yet, after all. Here.” She dug into her pocket and produced a business card. “We’ve barely even talked about you yet. Listen—I have satellite feeds monitoring everything. Surges of power (which are observable via atmospheric and magnetic disturbance, heat, radiation, and more, believe it or not), increases in psychological events or unexpected deaths… you have no idea.”

“It sounds like a police state,” I said before I could help myself.

She shook her head. “I’m the only one who gets to see all of it—as annoyed as that makes some people —and I don’t have any authority to act on it, nor the power to do so even if I did.”

I stared at her business card; I was still draped on Martin, and I did not give a damn who saw. (Maybe a little. Maybe I did it at them, as well.) “Do I… call you?” All it had was her name and a number.

“Yes! I’ll come get you.”

“Portal travel?”

“Well, I’m based out of the Alps, so yes, you’ll prefer that.”

“Oh.” I swallowed. “So. Tell me what happened. What I did. Cliff’s Notes.”

She looked thrilled. “I’m calling it prisming.”

“Weird nomenclature? You?” said Gertrude, dryly. “Thought I’d never see the day.”

“Prisming,” said Manuela, like tuning back in after a commercial break. “Of course, you understand the concept—when light, passing through glass, slows and bends at different wavelengths, separating into the colors that make up light, which we normally can’t see.”

Martin snorted. “Are we really doing that goofy sci-fi movie trope?”

I pulled back to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”

His smile was so adorable I wanted to wrap it around my heart like a blanket. “We have got to fix your viewing habits. These movies—they’ll be talking about something wild like the loss of Earth’s magnetic field, and then they’ll demonstrate it by roasting a peach pit with hairspray and a lighter.”

I laughed.

I laughed hard. I couldn’t help it. It had been so long since I’d encountered anything so silly. “What! What? You’re joking!”

“Not even a little,” he said, utterly pleased with himself.

“You ought to already know about such things,” said Gertrude warily.

It was another test, but I was still laughing and couldn’t be bothered being intimidated this time. “The Eye knows everything, but doesn’t interact with it. That’s a human response.” I wiped my eyes. My smile faded. “I told you the condition it had me in. Believe me, I spent no time with nonsense like that. I would have missed Martin too much.”

Except… It did care about things now, didn’t It?

It was amused by Brother Love. This was new; I could feel it, feel that this development was relatively recent. How could this be?

I was not going to volunteer the question. Not yet.

“Hm,” Gertrude said. “And do you have the memoirs of all It knew?”

“I honestly don’t know. I feel like I’ve woken from a coma—which I have done, by the way. You’re not… you feel very weird for a while. You are yourself, but not.”

“You were in a coma?” said Manuela. “Tell me about it?”

“We haven’t even finished the current conversation.”

“I don’t think we’ll finish this one for a while,” said Manuela, back on track. “I haven’t figured out how you did it. To be honest, I assumed you’d understand this,” she said, holding up the printout, “and could help explain it to me.”

“Oh.” Disappointed. Embarrassed. “I could try to help?”

Leitner sighed. “Really, Manuela?”

“Well, this is quite new,” she said. “None of the Eye avatars have done anything like this before.”

I blinked at her. “They haven’t?”

“No. It’s one of the reasons I want to investigate your theory about the Eye liking you. That could be what makes this different.”

“But then what are other avatars like?”

“Lenses. Magnification, clarification, seeing through whatever to the truth of things.”

“Peach pits,” Martin mumbled, and set me off again.

“Well,” I finally said. “There may be a way to access all that knowledge, but right now, I don’t know how to do it safely. The Eye is too used to having all of me. It’s a fire hydrant, not a faucet.” I grinned at Martin.

He grinned back and rolled his eyes.

“Right, well,” said Manuela. “What you did is somehow break the hunter—who is effective because they are basically combinations of various avatars—into individual parts. That’s not a little thing.”

“Wait. I did? And they’re what, merged ? Like some sort of Flesh abomination?”

“Not at all. It’s much more homogeneous than that.”

“They’re working together?” Horror erased what amusement I had.

“Or being forced to.”

I stared at her. “Why would someone do that? We’re up against some… mad scientist of the Fears? How is that even possible?”

“We don’t know, but it seems like that, doesn’t it? It’s the reason Jurgen decided to bring people like you here who’d do anything to stop it—it was already happening when we arrived. Otherwise, we’d have to watch the world end again.”

Martin’s eyes were huge. It seemed I wasn’t the only one hearing this for the first time.

“Are you going to tell him everything?” said Leitner, dry.

“Am I going to tell… an avatar of the Eye…” Manuela began with such sarcasm that I think even Tim would’ve been impressed.

“Yes, all right, fair point,” Leitner said, sounding pouty.

He probably wanted to feel important by doling things out. That, or he didn’t trust me. Well, that went both ways. “And why are they called hunters, then?” I said. “Is that the primary Fear they’re made of, or something?”

“No, that was just the name sticking before we could be clever about it,” she said.

That made sense. Humans did that sort of thing—not that I was about to share such an observation. It would make me sound too far outside humanity.

I wasn’t. I was still me. I had to believe that.

“Jurgen, I’m done here,” said Gertrude. “If there’s nothing else for me to do…?”

“You are?” He sounded so surprised.

“Yes. I have come to my conclusion.”

I peered at her over Martin’s shoulder.

“You have?” said Leitner.

“I’ll send you my report, but some of us don’t have the luxury of sitting around in plush chairs all day, staring at stained glass.”

I couldn’t help snorting.

“Everyone is in such a mood today,” said Leitner, and waved his hand at her dismissively. “I want that report.”

Gertrude waved back—with far more disdain than he’d managed—and simply left without another word to us.

“Was that good?” I murmured.

“Hell if I know,” Martin murmured back. “She didn’t come stare at me in any of my meetings.”

“Well, you not knowing alters things,” Manuela said, “but it’s not a dead end. Give me a few days to correlate and collect more data, then let’s talk.”

“All right. I can do that.”

“I think the question, Jon, is whether you can do it again,” said Leitner.

“I don’t know. I’d advise not making any plans around an incident hat could’ve been a fluke,” I said.

“Do you think it was?” Leitner said evenly.

“I don’t know. It could have been some lingering effect of… everything. It’s a risk. Don’t plan around it.”

He huffed. “Fine. But you could save lives.”

“If that’s the case, we’ll figure something out—but I won’t risk anyone in the process,” I said.

And this time, I received the dismissive hand-wave. “If there’s nothing else, Manuela?”

She grinned at me. “A week.”

“A week. I’ll call.”

She stood, gathered her lawn chair, looked around as though to be certain she hadn’t dropped anything, and opened a portal.

I almost saw how she did it—her lenses example, seeing where she wanted to go, and in the process, tunneling a way there.

Was that good? Did it damage something? I had no idea.

She was gone, and it was significantly less comfortable with only Leitner staring at us. “You really are proving to be as interesting as I’d hoped,” he said.

“I… you’re welcome?” I said, uncertain as to the pleasantries in this situation.

“We’ll obviously need to dive into this further, but both Manuela and Gertrude seem to think you are no threat to us—which was my main concern.”

“And you’d have done what, if they thought otherwise?” I said.

“Well, I don’t know. We’d attempt capture and rehabilitation.”

“Like Nikola.”

“Yes. Taking your life would be the absolute last step. We’ve had enough death. All of us.”

I needed to see Nikola for myself before determining whether that truly was the better option. “I don’t intend to die or harm anyone. I just want to live, and I don’t mean mere survival. All of this took my life from me.”

“I understand,” he said, and sounded like he did. “It’s what they all want, and I try to give opportunity for.”

It was awkward now for a different reason. I wished I could just believe him; it would be lovely if he were honest.

And maybe he was, but that would have to be proven over time. “Are we done?”

“Yes. Oh—stop and see Agnes on your way out. She’ll give you a lunch voucher.”

Oh. All right.

We held hands and left.

Agnes was indeed there—her hair cut short, dressed as though it were 35 Celsius in here. She smiled; she eyed me in a way I was coming to recognize as Oh, I killed you in my world, and handed us little coupons for lunch across the street.

We both knew we’d be saving those coupons for later.

I waited until we were outside again before speaking. “How can you stand me?”

“What?” Martin said, startled.

My voice shook. “They all kill me. Even you had to kill me. I drove everyone to it. How can you even—”

He kissed me. Arms around, holding tight so I could not blow apart. “I didn’t want to. You didn’t drive me to it. It was the Web’s plan from start to finish.”

I stared at him.

“She was trying to eacape,” he said. “But to do that, the Eye had to be lured to another world—and that could only happen with you as both bait and bear trap. We both fell for it, Jon. It wasn’t your fault.”

I stared more. “You’ve spent a lot of time thinking about this.”

“I did. If it was your fault, I’d tell you. But all you did was be yourself, not know what you were doing, and be used. By everyone. I’m not too happy about eight Jonah Magnuses, either.”

“Maybe we can put them all in a room, and they’ll eat each other,” I muttered.

“I’m pretty sure with that many of them together, they would just rule the world.”

“Or wreck it.” I leaned in. “I suppose it might not be like that. Are different versions of people different here?

“Wildly. We saw the Evans earlier, remember? One’s full Lonely; the other went Desolation.”

“Damn,” I said, trying to picture it.

“They get along like siblings—because they just do—but they are very different people.”

I made a face like tasting something awful. “I suppose I’ll at least look at him. Jonah.”

“You don’t have to. He’s not your responsibility.”

“I know him better than anyone here. I do have to, Martin.”

And Jared pulled up. I hadn’t even noticed Martin messaging him. “Right,” Jared said, rising impossibly huge from his vehicle like all the passengers of a clown car in one, and opening the back door for us. He eyed Martin. “This’s what you wanted, eh? No wonder I weren’t your type.” And he laughed wetly.

Martin shrugged. “Always was. Not your fault.”

“Eh,” said Jared. “Killed him anyway, my time. Don’t feel like I owe nothing bad now.”

“How did you…” I said.

“Got these letters, yeah? An’ your picture. Told me where you’d be. Got into the Institute and there you were—but not for long.”

“Jonah Magnus again,” I murmured to Marrin.

“Coincidence.”

I was beginning to wonder. “I need to talk to Jane.”

“Sure? Let’s do lunch at home, first.”

“Do… do I have food?” I said, eyes wide.

Martin laughed. “I do. It’s time you came to my flat, anyway.”

“You gonna get in or not?” Jared said.

We got in.

I kept Martin’s hand between mine. “Thank you for being there.”

He just held me.

We were silent the rest of the ride back. And nothing was stopping us. Nothing was caging us in, or chaining us down. I still felt increasingly trapped, and I had no idea what to do.

The Eye tried to tell me about Jared’s secret love affair with some Corruption avatar, but I didn’t let that get too far.

Its delight unnerved me. It had changed.

And I was beginning to wonder if I was the reason it had.

#tma #tma fic #tma fanfic #ao3 #jonmartin #jmart #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #tma au #tma spoilers #magnus monsterverse

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vargamornight · 4 months

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in the middle of a doctor who rewatch and jesus CHRIST the fourth season is tough to get through. to be clear, i do greatly enjoy this season. it has some of my absolute favorite episodes. but my god is it heavy almost all the way through. it starts off great with partners in crime, where donna comes back and they have a silly goofy time waving at fat, then it's just

fires of pompeii: the doctor and donna are forced to destroy pompeii, killing twenty thousand people in order to save the world. donna makes the doctor go back to save someone, anyone. she put her hand on his when they pulled the lever that set off vesuvius, but she will not share in destruction unless he shares in mercy.

planet of the ood: the doctor and donna discover the truth about the ood, that they have been crippled and enslaved against their will, that their "sickness" is actually rebellion. they watch innocents die, and fight with the ood. donna and the doctor are the only people who actually converse with the ood. everyone else gives them orders, or doesn't address them directly at all.

the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky: honestly i skipped over these two episodes because the ones that take place on modern day earth bore the shit out of me (also why i haven't seen torchwood), but it was another two episode "the earth is being invaded by hostile aliens" adventure which is never particularly lighthearted

the doctor's daughter: the doctor, donna, and martha encounter two species warring, and find out that the innumerable deaths and lifetimes of suffering have only occurred over the course of a week, because every "human" born there is actually grown from a vat of cloned dna and spit out fully formed, trained, and ready to kill and die for an unnamed and (to them) unimportant cause.

the unicorn and the wasp is the ONLY reprieve. fun silly times solving a murder with agatha christie, donna kisses the doctor right after he's eaten walnuts and sardines back to back, a silly goofy reveal of a thief, a liar, and a secret pregnancy, all in the style of a classic murder mystery novel.

AND THEN WE GET RIGHT BACK INTO THE HEAVY SHIT!

silence in the library/forest of the dead: i mean come on. i LOVE these episodes. the vashta nerada are one of the best "monsters" this show has ever conceived. home to such iconic lines as "hey, who turned out the lights?" and "count the shadows" and "donna noble has left the library. donna noble has been saved." these two episodes are incredible, and so, so scary, and so many people die. a lot of people live, too, but we're introduced to, fall in love with, and say goodbye to river song in these episodes, and she tells us that everybody knows that everybody dies, but it'll be a cold day in hell before the doctor accepts that.

midnight: the doctor and donna try to go on vacation. the doctor ends up trapped in a train car with several strangers, none of whom are particularly evil or even mean, and over the course of a few hours they manage to justify the murder of not one but TWO people they cannot even be sure are dangerous. it is one of the most terrifying and stressful episodes of new who for me, because i think it is so accurate to how people really operate when their only motivation is fear.

turn left: a "what if" episode where donna never met the doctor, he died trying to stop the racnoss queen from taking over the world, and thus didn't stop anything else from happening. martha and sarah jane both die in the hospital when the judoon drop it on the moon. the titanic hits london, blows up, and irradiates the entirety of southern england, forcing millions to relocate as refugees, and donna and her family are desolate. also rose is there to try and fix the timeline, which she does, when donna chooses to let herself die in order to change everything back.

the stolen earth/journey's end: the gang's all here! everything sucks so, so bad, everyone's dead or dying, planets have been kidnapped, the daleks are doing some fuckshit, some throwaway lines are woven into the narrative (the bees missing, lost moon of poosh, etc), the doctor gives up. martha tries to nuke the planet, doctor donna is born, saves the universe, and dies, and donna is abandoned like radioactive waste, to be avoided and forgotten forever. rose tyler is left on the beach of bad wolf bay, but this time the doctor finishes his sentence, and he stays with her.

again, i really like this season. but it's like a four course meal made entirely of meat. no vegetables, no fruit, no bread, nothing to drink. only steak. delicious, hard to digest, filling, and not easy to finish in a timely manner.

#doctor who #death to thirteen episode seasons. we need filler

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loverllyhurtswithoutyou · 11 months

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SFW ALPHABET HEAD CANON

Andreas Sarah Gallagher

OC from Heart and Isles

Rizzoli and Isles fanfiction

A/N: Hello there! To anyone reading this, know that this is the first time I've worked on an Alphabet SFW, so please be kind. So, this is about Andreas —Andy — Gallagher, the main character of a Rizzoli and Isles fanfiction I'm working on. Note that the story’s title may change. Feel free to share your thoughts about Andy :)

A is for Affection: How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?

Andy likes to keep her privacy. It means that no matter how close she wants to be to Maura, she will keep a minimum distance in all public places in order to protect their private lives. However, around loved ones and friends — such as her best friend or Jane’s family — Andy almost always has some kind of physical contact with Maura, whether it’s a hand on her thigh, the small of her back, or her hand. I think her main way of expressing her affection is through touch, although sometimes she will choose to simply offer Maura a little something, help her out with something or simply make time for her.

B is for Best friend: What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?

As a best friend, Andy is always willing to drop everything just to be there. She knows the importance of a healthy friendship and takes her role very seriously. Therefore, although her work is extremely demanding, she will always make sure to have time for her loved ones. Her friendship with Pierce began years ago when they both trained to be firefighters. Over time, they’ve become somewhat like siblings, and hardly ever do you see one without the other. All of her relationships spring more or less from her work environment, i.e. her best friend or Maura.

C is for Cuddles: Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?

Andy actually loves to cuddle. Behind her tough-girl mask, she’s in fact a person with a very big heart who’s tired of having to settle for her best friend’s hugs. She loves the way Maura snuggles up to her on the couch after a long day or the way their bodies mingle during the night. Sometimes, she’s the one who needs to be cuddled. In these cases, she finds comfort against Maura’s body, her arms around her waist, her head in the hollow of her neck.

D if for Domestic: Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?

Had life not decided otherwise, Andy would have settled down for good. Before the accident, she had what she had always wanted, the job of her dreams, a home, and a fiancée. She no longer knows if she’s ready to repeat this journey. Still, maybe Maura will be able to change her mind. Andy’s pretty good at keeping things neat and tidy. Her motto is — minimalism, — she travels light. Everything that doesn’t belong in her apartment is removed.

E is for Ending: If they had to break up with their s/o, how would they do it? Why would they do it?

Andy hasn’t been involved with anyone for a while since the accident. Whenever she has to end her so-called flings, she sticks to clear and direct words. One might argue she’s deadly cold, but that’s only because she doesn’t want to get attached. If she has to break up with someone she really likes and has been with for a while, it’s more complicated. She relies on her best friend’s advice, seeking to put some distance between herself and her S/O, before confronting the person, eyes filled with tears and hands shaking. I believe the main reason she would do it is fear. She’s not willing to relive the pain of the past and therefore deprives herself of happiness. But then again, there are several other factors that might lead her to end a relationship.

F is for Fiancé(e): How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?

Andy has known this feeling of commitment before. She’s been there. Until Maura, it wasn’t even something she considered possible — at least not anymore. She needs time — lots of time — to admit that maybe, she has thought about it. A part of her wants to give it a try, if she had to choose who to spend her life with, it would be Maura, inevitably.

G is for Gentle: How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?

Rare are the ones who are familiar with the softest side of her. Both physically and emotionally, Andy guards this part of herself and only shares it with those closest to her. Pierce was the first to break through her shell. Though his son also benefits from such attention, Maura’s the one enjoying it the most. Andy always makes sure to take care of the doctor — whatever she needs, the firefighter provides.

H is for Hugs: Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?

She doesn’t like hugging everyone, instead preferring a good handshake — especially with strangers or those she barely knows. Now, when it comes to Pierce, they tend not to hug very often — only when one of them feels the need to. With Maura, it’s different. She likes to hug her when she’s making herself tea, wrapping her arms around her waist and resting her chin on the doctor’s shoulder. She loves the way their bodies collide together after one of them’s life has been put on the line. When they’re together, they often happily bury themselves in each other’s arms.

I is for "I love you": How do they say the L-word? When do they say the L-word?

She thinks about it for a while, not daring to take a step and not even knowing how. One morning it just slips out of her mouth. Looking for her pager, she disturbs Maura who’s getting ready in the bathroom, planting a quick kiss on her lips as the device begins to ring in her hand. Not until she reaches the station will she realize what she said.

J is for Jealousy: How jealous do they get? What do they do when they're jealous?

Andy was never really the jealous type. Still, she has her moments. Being in a relationship with a very well-known woman such as Maura has its inconveniences. It’s not uncommon for the doctor to be flirted with — right and left — by men and women. Her insecurities grow when she feels an emotional connection is present between the person and Maura.

K is for Kisses: What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?

Andy is what you might call a kiss stealer. One long kiss just makes her crave for more — she often pecks Maura’s lips over and over again, eager for more. She’s a rather good kisser, always soft, gentle and sensual. Kissing her loved ones on their forehead or temple is her thing. She loves the way Maura kisses her knuckles whenever she’s comforting her.

L is for Little ones: How are they around children?

After the accident, Andy promised herself she’d stick to being the cool aunt. With Eden, it’s easy. She has known him since he was born, taught him the basics of her favorites sports and showed him around the firehouse. It’s also a child she can give back to his father as soon as she gets tired. Andy loves kids, she just doesn’t always know how to deal with them.

M is for Morning: How are mornings spent with them?

Mornings can be tough as a firefighter. They often mean the end of a 24-hour shift and with so little sleep, it’s with half-closed eyes that Andy finds the comfort of her bed. No matter how long she’s been doing this job, she’s still moody on those kinds of mornings. Andy enjoys following her regular routine before each 24-hour shift. That means waking up at the crack of dawn to go for a run, taking a cold shower and feeding herself a protein smoothy. Anything goes wrong — her whole day will be awfully dreadful. She loves Sundays and off days. Then she has time to be lazy, sleeping in and cuddling with Maura.

N is for Night: How are nights spent with them?

Andy knows that her schedule doesn't always match up with Maura's. Every chance she gets, she takes the opportunity to spend time with her or their loved ones. The Dirty Robber becomes over time their safe place — date nights, nights out with friends or parties. When both have the opportunity to be home at night, evenings include the two of them curled up on the couch, glasses of wine in hand, files or books in view. They both need a break and know how to remind each other of that.

O is for Open: When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?

Andy has a LOT to explain. But I feel like Maura does too. They both had complicated childhoods and experienced their quota of traumas in adult life. Andy won’t talk about it —whether it’s about her childhood, her former life or her work related traumas— she won’t say anything, not if the subject doesn’t come up. But when it does though, she’s brutally honest, trying to hide her emotions with a joke or two and a half-hearted smile.

P is for Patience - how easily angered are they?

Andy is pretty patient. She was born to be a leader, she knows when and how to lead her people. It's unusual for her to lose her temper. Due to her childhood, she knows how to handle difficult situations and wait for the right moment. However, she has absolutely no patience when it comes to people hurting her loved ones. Anyone who dares to mess with Maura or any member of Andy’s family will have to face the consequences.

Q is for Quizzes: How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing? Or do they kind of forget everything?

Andy is the kind of person who remembers everything. She’s good at memorizing details about her loved ones, especially Maura. She spent hours studying the doctor's face and how each emotion affects it. Her hands have been over the curves of Maura’s body so many times that Andy would be willing to retrace them blindfolded. While she occasionally forgets things that have been said to her, Andy tends to swallow every word that comes out of Maura’s mouth, so she rarely forgets anything.

R is for Remember: What is their favorite moment in your relationship?

Andy’s favorite moment in her relationship with Maura is their first kiss. The way they both gave in to the urge without worrying about the following day. The firefighter hadn't craved a woman's kiss as much as she did at that moment since losing her ex-fiancé.

S is for Security: How (over)protective are they? how would they protect you? how would they like to be protected?

Andy will never stop fighting to protect her loved ones. In fact, it’s part of her job. If you imagine that Andy would run into a burning building or throw herself in front of a bullet to save Maura, well, you are right. If she has the opportunity to save the woman she loves this time, then she will not hesitate.

T is for Try: How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, and everyday tasks?

Andy’s a busy woman. Saving Boston citizens and putting out fires is no easy task, but that doesn’t mean she won’t take the time to spend quality time with Maura. She does her best every day to prove to the doctor that her heart still belongs to her — visit her at work with her favorite treat, buy her favorite flowers/plants on her way home, or even throw surprise parties for her birthday/some other success in her career.

U is for Ugly: What would be some bad habits of theirs?

Andy tends to click her pen repeatedly. She also has a bad habit of biting her lips and playing with her keys when she is nervous.

V is for Vanity: How concerned are they with their looks?

Andy isn’t too concerned about her looks, but she has a healthy lifestyle and knows how to make an effort when necessary. On a daily basis, she switches between uniforms, sportswear, and casual wear. She doesn’t try to look good but still does. It’s a ‘natural thing’ as Dimitri loves to put it.

W is for Whole: Would they feel incomplete without you?

Andy is a person in her own right. She learned long ago that she doesn’t need anyone to survive. Sure, the absence will create a feeling of incompleteness, but it is nothing compared to what she has already experienced. However, she believes that to live to the fullest, she needs all the pieces of her puzzle.

X is for Xtra: (A) Random headcanon(s) for them

Andy grew up playing many different sports. She loves keeping up with soccer, hockey, and baseball games, whether it’s on TV or the radio. The best thing according to her remains to experience the game live. She’ll end up dragging Maura to a soccer game, even if it means spending half of it explaining the rules to her.

Y is for Yuck: What are some things they wouldn't like, either in general or in a partner

Some sort of violence, whether psychological or physical.

Z is for Zzz: what are some sleep habits of theirs?

Recall three positive moments of the day, as advised by the station’s psychologist.

#maura x andy #AndreasGallagher #maura isles x reader #maura isles x oc #rizzoli and isles #HeartandIsles #sfw alphabet

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ollieofthebeholder · 10 months

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to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest): a TMA fanfic

<< Beginning < Prev. || AO3

Chapter 32: October 2016

“I think we’ve doubled back on ourselves again.” Jon wedged his torch under his chin to try and get it to point at the paper in his hands.

Martin, as he usually did, neatly relieved him of the torch and pointed it at the paper, and Jon once again wondered why he didn’t just ask Martin to hold it in the first place. “I don’t see any of our arrows.”

“I’m not altogether convinced someone hasn’t been moving them.”

“Okay, Sarah, you check your map and I’ll keep an eye out for the Cleaners.”

Jon considered Martin’s statement for a moment, map temporarily forgotten. “I have no idea what that’s referencing.”

Martin snorted softly. “Labyrinth. It’s a movie. We’ll have to watch it some night, you’ll probably love it. It’s one of Neenie’s favorites.”

Jon had been intrigued, and slightly suspicious, when he’d returned to work and Martin had produced the key to the tunnels with the information that Elias had essentially given them carte blanche to explore them. He’d at first thought to explore them on his own, but Martin had been waiting for him the first time he tried, and he’d given in fairly readily.

Actually, he found the experience was a lot more…enjoyable wasn’t the word. It was still oppressive, eerie, and at times terrifying to wander around the tunnels where Jane Prentiss had made a home, and where Gertrude Robinson had been brutally murdered by a man they all had to pretend they didn’t know had done it. But having Martin with him made it better, at least. He knew there was somebody there to catch him if he fell, to remind him to eat or drink water, to reassure him when he heard an odd noise or even to validate his fears if he noticed something off and doubted his own mind.

Also, he was enjoying spending time with Martin. They’d grown closer in the weeks they’d spent above Cinnamon Rose Books, but that had always been with someone else present—usually Gerry, often Melanie as well. Their efforts to map the tunnels were just the two of them. While they tried to focus on the route, and limited their discussion while walking to the tunnels themselves and speculation about where Gertrude might have been, they had opportunities to rest.

Well, opportunities was probably not the right word for it. More like forced stops.

As Jon studied the map he’d been drawing, he noticed the beam of light was shaking slightly. He looked up at Martin, concerned. “Are you all right?”

“Fine,” Martin said, completely unconvincingly. At Jon’s raised eyebrow, he relented. “Bit tired, I guess. How long have we been wandering around down here?”

Jon tilted his wrist to get his watch face into view. As soon as he saw the time, he did a double-take. “Good Lord.”

Martin huffed out a laugh. “I’m guessing it’s been a bit.”

“Nearly three hours, and we’ve been going this entire time. Martin, why didn’t you tell me you were getting tired?”

“It’s no big deal. I’ve dealt with worse.” Martin studied Jon sharply. “How are you feeling?”

“I could do with a rest,” Jon admitted.

Martin pointed the torch’s light ahead of them. “Look—that’s either a room without a door, or it’s a stairwell. Either way, should be a decent enough place for a sit.”

It was only a few yards away, but Martin stumbled and had to lean against the wall at one point. Jon tried to steady him and help him over to what turned out to be the top of a flight of steps. They sank down onto the top step together. By unspoken agreement, they both turned themselves sideways so that their backs were against the walls, letting them see down the stairs—to a point—as well as the way they’d come from.

Jon balanced the torch on its end, giving them a decent spread of light—at least enough to see one another and their immediate environs—then dug through the satchel he’d brought with him. He came up with two bottles of water and two protein bars, then handed one of each to Martin. Martin twisted the top of the water bottle open, then saluted him with it. “Na zdrowie.”

“Likewise.” Jon raised his own glass. “Is that…Russian?”

“Polish. It means ‘to your health’.”

“You really do speak Polish?” Jon blurted, then bit his lip, slightly embarrassed. He knew Martin had listened to at least some of the tapes and knew some of the things Jon had said about him, but…

Thankfully, Martin didn’t seem offended. He merely nodded before taking a deep drink of water. “My grandfather taught me.”

It seemed like a good opening to a conversation. Jon carefully peeled away the wrapper of the protein bar. His hands were a bit shaky, too—since moving back to his own flat after his shoulder healed, he wasn’t always as good about remembering to eat breakfast as he’d been when he’d stumbled out in the morning to find Martin or Gerry presiding over the frying pan, so his blood sugar was probably low—but he managed it before asking, “Are you…fluent?”

“Pretty much, yeah. Granddad was trilingual and used to switch back and forth all the time, and since I spent a lot of time with him when I was a kid, I did too. I learned pretty quick not to do that at school, though, or I’d just get made fun of.” Martin took a bite of his own protein bar.

Jon was intrigued. “So what languages do you know?”

Martin stared blankly at the wall over Jon’s head as he chewed, then swallowed. “Polish. Russian. French, some—I took a couple advanced courses when I was still in school, and Gerry used to help me practice. Yiddish, a little bit—I understand it better than I speak it. Same with Irish and Romanian. I can read Sanskrit and ancient Greek, but I can’t pronounce them properly. I know a little bit of Chinese—Cantonese, not Mandarin—but I’m not going to be having in-depth conversations, and don’t ask me to read it. I learned BSL as part of an after-school thing, but I’m rusty.” His lips twitched upwards in a smile as he returned his gaze to Jon. “And I know how to say ‘can I pet your dog’ in twenty-seven other languages.”

Jon laughed. “Of course you do. I should learn how to say ‘can I pet your cat’.” He tilted his head at Martin. “That’s…quite an impressive list. I had no idea you were such a polyglot.”

“Yeah, well, how many of those languages have come across our desks since we came down to the Archives? Other than a word in Polish or Russian here or there. Wasn’t like you were going to respond favorably if I told you, ‘No, I don’t actually speak Latin unless you count memorizing seven different choral arrangements with ‘Ave’ in the title, but if you can give me a Sanskrit passage I’ll tell you what it says.’”

“No, I suppose not.” Jon took a sip of water to cover his embarrassment.

Martin tilted his head at him. “What about you? What languages do you know?”

“Ah—not that many. Latin, obviously, and I actually studied ancient Greek, too. And I know a little Urdu, but not much.” Jon winced. “My grandmother didn’t—she wasn’t like your grandfather, I suppose. She was…very determined that I not get my languages confused. We only spoke English at home. I finally convinced her to start teaching me, but I was in university at that point, so it only happened when I was home on breaks. And I didn’t…practice as much as I should have when we were apart.” He considered for a moment. “I don’t think she minded all that much, to be honest.”

“Mum won’t let me talk to her in anything but English, either. Old prejudices die hard, I guess.” Martin’s eyes softened. “Granddad’s parents came over when they were newlyweds, just after the first World War. He said they never did learn to speak English very well. They died long before I was born, so I never met them, but he used to tell me stories.”

Jon smiled. “What about your grandmother?”

“I never met her, either. Mum refused to talk about her—all she ever said was that she’d abandoned her and wasn’t worth her time. Granddad never really talked about her, either, except to say I had her courage.” Martin sipped pensively at his water. “And I never met my dad’s family. I barely remember my dad…what about you? Was it just you and your grandmother?”

“Yes, my extended family wasn’t…close. I-I don’t really remember my parents either,” Jon confessed. “My father died when I was two, from an accidental fall, and my mother died from surgery complications a couple of years later. It was just me left, and I think most of my relatives had gone overseas, so my grandmother wound up being the one raising me.” He hesitated, then added in a low voice, “She never quite hid that she resented that.”

Martin’s eyes radiated with a sympathy so sincere it hurt, and Jon had to look away. He didn’t resist when Martin took his hands, though. “It’s not your fault. You know that, right? No child asks to be born, and certainly no child ever seriously asks to be orphaned. You needed someone, and it’s not your fault that it was her.”

Jon tried to laugh, but it came out sort of strangled. “You sound almost like you’re talking from experience.”

Martin was silent for a long moment before he said softly, “You remember that day I snapped at you about Ex Altiora?”

“Yes, I—I remember you telling Melanie and Gerry that was your mother’s birthday.” Jon still couldn’t look at Martin.

“Right, and I called her to wish her a happy birthday.” Jon nodded. “She wouldn’t take my call. I don’t know why I even bothered trying, honestly, because she always refuses my call. She hasn’t spoken to me in seven years. In my entire life, I’ve heard her say something kind about me once, and that was the first time I found a Leitner.” Martin squeezed Jon’s hands gently. “I’m lucky in that I had Granddad, and then Roger and Melanie—and Gerry, even if he’s not legally family—but I at least know a little bit of what you had to deal with. And I’m so sorry, Jon. Nobody deserves that.”

“I—I know she did her best. And at least I remember enough about my parents to know they loved me.” Jon tried to wipe at his eyes with his shoulder so he wouldn’t have to let go of Martin’s hands, then gave it up and looked up at Martin, blinking heavily to try and clear them. “And—and I’m not alone now. I have Tim and Sasha, and Gerry and Melanie…and you.”

“You have me,” Martin agreed softly. He let go of one of Jon’s hands, then reached forward to carefully cup his chin and wipe the tears away with a gentle caress of his thumb. It was a gesture of such tenderness that Jon wasn’t sure he could stand it without breaking apart. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so…cherished. As if he was something worth caring for, caring about.

Jon found himself wanting to close the gap between them, to…he didn’t know what. Possibly curl against Martin’s side and hold him until both of them forgot every person who should have loved them but didn’t. That was a slightly disconcerting feeling in and of itself, but it was also disconcerting that he didn’t want it to go away. Six months ago he likely would have ignored it, or at least tried to bury it, but after everything they’d been through, he leaned into Martin’s hand and tried to work up the courage to slide to the other side of the stairwell.

A sudden sound came from below them on the stairwell, making both of them jump. Martin’s hand fell away from Jon’s face, and he immediately missed the contact. He gripped Martin’s other hand tightly to keep him from letting go as they peered into the darkness.

“That—what was that?” Jon automatically dropped his voice to a whisper.

“I don’t know,” Martin murmured. “It didn’t sound like a worm. Or a spider. But it didn’t sound like a rat, either.”

“I haven’t seen any evidence of rats down here.”

“Me, either, which should probably be worrying this close to the river, but…” Martin trailed off. “We should get back to the Archives.”

“Yes. We should.” Jon peered into the darkness, then looked up at Martin again. “We’re not going to, are we.”

It wasn’t a question, and Martin didn’t answer it. Instead, he handed Jon his rubbish, then picked up the torch and pulled him to his feet. Jon laced their fingers together, and they made their way carefully down the stairs.

The stairs were narrow, and Jon kept a tight hold of Martin’s hand; the second he got stuck, or couldn’t go any further, they would turn back. Jon was not going on alone. Quietly, he asked, “Did Tim mention stairs at any point?”

“Just the ones we came out of up into the Archives, so Gertrude was up there somewhere,” Martin replied. “But I think that stopped being what we were looking for a while ago.”

“You’re not wrong.” They came to a landing, and Jon paused, peering into the darkened archway leading to the next level down. “Do we check this level or keep going down?”

Martin appeared to be weighing their options. Finally he said, “I don’t hear anything. Whatever made that noise, it isn’t on this floor. Let’s keep going. Carefully.”

Jon appreciated that addition.

It was another two flights down before Martin stopped dead, hissing for Jon to be quiet. Jon held his breath, and then he heard it, too—a rattling noise, like someone had tripped over a rock. He looked up at Martin, saw that he was game, and led him onto the level.

This one felt different, somehow. The air was faintly damp and tasted of rot and decay. The ceiling seemed just a little bit lower, the tunnels just a little bit narrower, and it felt like it should have been cold enough to see their breath steam ahead of them, but luckily wasn’t. Jon was thankful he’d worn Martin’s now-mended jumper, but he still stepped just a bit closer to Martin’s side as they traversed the tunnels on this floor. There was no dust—of course there wasn’t, this wasn’t that kind of a place—but it still felt as though this was a place that hadn’t been traversed by humans in ages, if ever.

“Jon.” Martin’s voice was a mere thread. “Look.”

Jon looked where the beam of light from the torch was pointed and inhaled sharply. As if in mockery of his thoughts a moment ago, there lay a crumpled packet of some kind, dark green and yellow.

Without letting go of Martin’s hand, as impractical as that was, Jon bent down and reached for it with trembling fingers. It had once held biscuits, an imported variety Jon had never particularly cared for, but now only crumbs remained. He turned it over to find the sell-by date. “This can’t have been down here long. A year at most.”

“I don’t think it’s been down here that long,” Martin said slowly. “That’s…not a bad thing, actually.”

“It’s not?”

“It means that whatever—whoever is down here still has to eat regular food. They’re not as far gone as Prentiss was.”

Jon hadn’t considered that, but it made sense. As he straightened up, a thought occurred to him. “That means Gerry isn’t that far gone, right? Since he still eats regular food?”

Martin was silent for a long moment, which told Jon he wasn’t going to like the answer. “He chooses to eat regular food, but it doesn’t really…do anything for him. If he tried to live off of just that, he’d fade pretty quickly.”

“I didn’t know he could die.”

“I never said he would die. I said he would fade. He’d be weak and helpless and—” Martin stumbled, nearly dropping the torch as he tried to balance himself against the wall. “Christ, what did I trip over this time?”

Jon took the torch from him and angled it at the ground. If he was being honest with himself, he didn’t expect to find anything—Martin was probably more worn out by their long journey than he was willing to admit, that was a lot of stairs—but to his surprise, there was a glass bottle lying on its side, still rocking slightly from being kicked. “It looks like a wine bottle.”

“Hang on.” Martin handed the torch back to Jon and knelt down this time, prodding the bottle lightly until the label faced upwards. “Jesus, this stuff runs at least a hundred pounds a bottle.”

“You’re sure?” Jon leaned over to get a closer look.

“It’s what they served at Mum and Roger’s wedding. I remember because Aunt Mary told us if we so much as looked at a single bottle of it too hard, there wouldn’t be enough of us left to put in the Book.” Martin got to his feet with a bit of effort. “And this is the same vintage. Unless our mystery basement dweller has had it sitting around for twenty years, it didn’t come cheap.”

“So a squatter with at least moderately expensive tastes.” Jon watched the bottle spin for a moment, then aimed the torch in the direction the neck was pointing. There was a turn off the corridor just there. “That way?”

“Hold still.” Martin reached across Jon’s body to dig into the bag, then pulled out the chalk they’d been using to mark the walls. He drew an arrow pointing back the way they’d come on the wall facing the corridor. He clearly found it awkward to hold the chalk, and seemed to be having difficulty drawing.

“Martin, are you sure you’re all right?” Jon asked, concerned.

“Fine. I’m left-handed, that’s all. Never really practiced with my right,” Martin admitted.

“Next time, we’ll hold hands the other way round,” Jon said without really thinking. As soon as his brain caught up to what he’d just let his tongue get away with, his face caught fire, but he decided he wasn’t going to apologize or take it back, because he actually meant it.

Martin paused in his work and gave him a crooked, almost shy smile before back to finish the arrow.

“There,” he said at last, stepping back to study the mark. “Good enough?”

Jon squeezed Martin’s hand. “It’s perfect.”

Martin laughed and turned—then froze, the smile dropping off his face instantly. “What the—?”

“What?” Jon turned to see what Martin was looking at, what might be coming down the corridor—and felt his blood run cold.

The corridor was gone.

Frantically, Jon shone the torch along the wall, but it was solid, unbroken stone. “It—I swear there was a passage there a moment ago, I—”

“There was. But there’s not now,” Martin murmured. He reached out hesitantly with his free hand and touched the wall. “I-it’s not a door, it’s…that should not be possible.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jon said in a low voice. “Did you?”

“No. No, I didn’t.” Martin took a deep breath. “Right. I guess we keep going straight then.”

“Yes.” Jon turned to face the way they were headed and found he was standing closer to Martin than before. It didn’t really surprise him—he felt very strongly that he needed the comfort—but then Martin cursed quietly and Jon looked up at him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just—banged my shoulder on the wall, that’s all. Sorry, would you—can we get more to the middle of the tunnel?”

“Of course,” Jon said immediately, taking a step to the left…or trying to. His foot knocked against the wall, and he turned to regard it sharply, then looked back at Martin. The panic was starting to make itself known. “Are…are these tunnels getting narrower?”

“No,” Martin said under his breath. Jon thought it was an answer, until he caught the note of panic in his voice. “No, no, no…”

“Martin? Martin.” Jon squeezed Martin’s hand tightly, then moved closer to him with the thought of wrapping his arms around him to calm his panic.

Martin yanked his glasses off with an almost violent movement. Jon felt more than heard the static gathering, slowly increasing at first, then faster and faster, rising to an almost fever pitch, painful even though it wasn’t directed at him. He let out a strangled cry and did the only thing he could think of—pinched a bit of Martin’s skin sharply between two fingernails. Martin gasped hard, but the static died instantly, making both of them slump.

From the darkness, a voice spoke, a single word, said without inflection or intonation, just a simple command. “Leave.”

Jon didn’t wait to be told twice. He began backing up, eyes fixed on the darkness ahead of them, still holding Martin’s hand so tightly it had to be hurting both of them. Then again, Martin was gripping him just as tightly.

They had to go single file before they got back to the stairwell. Jon didn’t like that and held onto Martin tighter, determined that he would not leave without him; if the halls got too narrow, if Martin were trapped, Jon would stay with him and damn the consequences. Luckily, they made it without too much difficulty, although it was a tight squeeze for Martin at the very end. The second there was space for them to turn around, they did, pelting up the stairs as fast as either of them could go.

Despite how far down they’d descended, and how far they must have explored overall, Jon didn’t think it was more than ten minutes before they were pushing up the trapdoor and emerging into the Archives, both of them collapsing to their knees at the top, gasping for breath. Jon’s face felt sticky and wet, and when managed to glance at Martin, he saw that he was pale as a sheet.

A shadow loomed over them, almost sending Jon into a panicked tumble back down the steps before Tim said, “Are you two all right?”

“Fine,” Martin and Jon said in unison.

Tim did not look remotely convinced, but he didn’t call them on it, either. “You guys were down there a hell of a long time. Find anything?”

“Maybe.” Jon didn’t know what they had found, only that it didn’t want them down there, and he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to go back yet, either. His heart was finally beginning to slow down, and he managed to look properly at Tim, who was holding something in his hand. “Is everything…all right?”

“Nothing major.” Tim waved the piece of paper he was holding. “I was just getting ready to come looking for you. Rosie just called down—a woman phoned the Institute, said she’s coming by to give a statement. She’ll be here in about twenty minutes.”

“Thank you.” Jon took the paper from Tim and was acutely aware that his hand was shaking. “Where’s Sasha?”

“Lunch. I was going to go out myself once you two got up.”

“Take the afternoon. Both of you. We…made you do the work all morning.” Jon took a deep, steadying breath. “But maybe…help us cover up this trapdoor first?”

Thank God, Tim didn’t ask questions. Probably he didn’t want to know. He shoved one of the disused desks over so that one set of legs rested on the now-closed trapdoor, then waved to them both and headed out. Jon watched him go, then turned to Martin, who had made them both very strong cups of tea and was seated at his desk. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” Martin admitted. “I shouldn’t have tried to Look that deep, but…I was panicking, I admit it. I’m sorry, Jon.”

“It’s not your fault. I was panicking, too.” Jon reached out and gingerly touched Martin’s cheek. “Was it…what was it?”

“I’m pretty sure it was the Buried.” Martin’s voice was barely above a whisper. “But it wasn’t…it wasn’t right. Not strong, not enough to…hurt us? Not enough to Mark you, anyway. It felt…controlled somehow.” He took a deep breath and added, “And I’ve heard that voice before. Somewhere. I just—I can’t remember where.”

Upset, Jon took Martin’s face in both hands and pressed their foreheads together. “Martin. Martin, please don’t hurt yourself trying to…we can stay out of the tunnels. We don’t need to go down there, not—not now. Not for a while. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

“I will. I will.” Martin covered Jon’s hands with his own. “You be careful, too. Please.”

“I will. I won’t go down without you.” Jon took a deep breath, inhaling the faint scents of mint and cherries that always seemed to cling to Martin, then reluctantly eased back. “If—if you need to take the rest of the day, too…”

“I’ll stay. Until you leave.” Martin managed a small smile. “Don’t know how much use I’ll be, really, but I’m not leaving you to it alone.”

Jon laughed. It came out a little broken, but it was genuine. “Tell you what. How about I take this statement that’s coming in, and then we can call it a day, too? We’ll, I’ll make it up to Tim and Sasha later.”

Martin’s smile broadened. “Sounds good. I’ll see what I can do in the meantime.”

“Good.”

“Excuse me?”

At the sound of the voice, both of them turned to see a woman approaching them, clutching a cape around her shoulders and looking agitated. Jon hoped he didn’t look as ruffled as he felt. “Yes, can we help you?”

“I—I’m here to—” The woman broke off, looking confused. “They told me—”

“Yes, Rosie called and said you’d be coming to make your statement,” Jon said, as kindly as he could. “Step into my office and we’ll get set up. Right this way, Ms.”—he surreptitiously checked the paper Tim had handed him—“Richardson.”

#ollie writes fanfic #to find promise of peace (and the solace of rest)#tma fanfic #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #claustrophobia tw #mention of childhood trauma #slight misuse of beholding powers

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masterthespianduchovny · 2 years

Text

I’m going to explain why I start twitching and break out in hives whenever someone floats that Sydney and Richie should hate fuck.

What I’ve discovered about myself this past year is I really don’t do the “guy is rude/an asshole/insults a specific woman and I must ship them together!!!”

This are my ships:

Mulder/Scully-The X-Files

Ginny/Mike- Pitch

Jane/Lisbon- The Mentalist

Ichabod/Abbie- Sleepy Hollow

Carmy/Sydney- The Bear

Rich/Michonne- The Walking Dead

Chuck/Sarah- Chuck

Ted/Rebecca- Ted Lasso

Will/Alicia- The Good Wife

If someone of you are familiar with a handful of these shows, you’ll recognize a trend here: these men worship the ground these women walk about. You will not disrespect these women, esp around them. They will either confront you, fight you, or both! (I’ll add some others I’m forgetting at the moment due to being sleep deprived.)

Women are often disrespected, esp black woken, as a joke everyday. And most of them aren’t joking. It’s delivered as one, but that person and their audience as serious.

I see the disrespect of (black) women tolerated and encouraged everyday, I don’t want to see that in my shows either. Even if it’s just a hook up.

The other part is: black women largely do not hate fuck white men. I’m not going to say never because there are exceptions to every rule.

Although I don’t expect the series to ever go here, Richie is so coded to casually say shit like, “ghetto black bitch” or maybe even “uppidy.” He resembles the white middle aged men and bros who swears they aren’t racist, but will be casually and outright racist at times and say, “if you don’t want to be treated like a ****** don’t act like a ******.” Or use the word liberally around his friends or certain circles.

Again, I don’t believe that is Richie, but his behavior is so similar to these guys that I can’t imagine Sydney would hate fuck a man like that. It would actually be upsetting for me. And this has nothing with me wanting her to be with Carmy, I’ve said early on after watching the show that I could see Syd x Marcus if they wanted to go there. This isn’t some shipper tearing down Richie’s character. I’m truly really disturbed with how he’s behaved toward Sydney and treated her at times.

I don’t believe they have sexual tension and I think it’s dangerous for some to believe (again, I said some) that characters who hate one another are secretly attracted to each other or will be. It’s why you have people who ship Maggie x Negan from the Walking Dead. Sometimes people hate someone for valid reasons and it doesn’t translate to fucking if they make amends.

Why does Richie hate Sydney?

She’s a scapegoat for him for useless and fear of being “pushed out” the beef, esp bc he knows he’s has nothing going on for himself. Then shows up this young and ambitious woman who is talented as fuck and won’t take his shit. He’s projecting all of his issues onto her.

Why does Sydney hate Richie?

When they first meet, he calls her sweetie (which is inappropriate), then while yelling at Carmy, calls her a broad. Is angry and belligerent when shopping for the caulk. Disrespects Carmy because of his culinary training. Mocks their passion and culinary training. Literally is aggressive and hostile with her (on two different occasions). Tina has to get him out of the kitchen because of how erratic he was acting. Constantly makes Sydney’s job difficult and refuses to listen to her. Blames her for shit that wasn’t her fault, and then gloats when she fucks up (after she covered his ass with the caulk too). Said she blow a critic for a good review and tried to sow discord between her and Carmy. And he loved gaslighting her, esp when she’s rightfully angry with her.

Sydney would have to have absolutely no sense of self worth or be at the lowest of low to fuck Richie. Because when in the fuck would she fuck a man who she doesn’t allow any form of disrespect or implied violence go unchecked touch her sexually? And that’s not including that a guy like that is someone who would read as racist to many black women.

And this is not to say some black women don’t see if for this hook up—some do! I’m not going to speak on that because that’s a nuanced situation as to how others explore fandom.

And this isn’t necessarily judging people who want it to happen. I just do not want that shit to be canon AT ALL. I would probably stop watching the show or consider it because of how upsetting it would be to me. If people want to write fanfic I’ll never read, but other would, be my guest. Go wild and crazy with it.

But I just cannot watch a character I adore, relate to at times, and who seemingly has a good sense of herself to not do some wild ass shit like that, that I’d stay around as she fucks a man who consistently disrespected and was hostile and aggressive with her.

The only couple I can think of that I shipped that were enemies to lovers were Kyle and Max from “Living Single.” And I think it was because they were equals—they were on the same playing field, but it stopped at barbs thrown at each other. He wasn’t in her face or making derogatory comments.

Sydney and Richie aren’t equals. She’s literally his boss and he can’t handle that (the point in me saying she’s his boss is to note that this aren’t two equals taking shots at each other.) And he’s also protected due to their precarious situation (aka bleeding money) and being Carmy’s “cousin.” Who knows how much she’s told and hasn’t told Carmy about his behavior, esp bc she’s used to dealing with everything herself. But again, there is still that race and gender element.

Like, if it’s all about fun and vibes for some, I get it if you ignore me. But the way I see black women treated in real life (dating wise and harassed by fans) and how fictional black women are treated, issa no from me, dawg.

I know enemy to lovers is a popular trope, it just isn’t something that hits for me when it comes to black and white relationships, esp if the woman is black. Esp when it piles on to the hate she already receives.

And, honestly, there’s no sexual tension between them. Some only think there is bc they hate each other and fans been conditioned to think that means there’s a sexual component there or will be.

#the bear #the bear fx #the bear on hulu #sydney adamu #richie jerimovich #like 99% of the couples I ship adore the fuck out of each other #this legitimately bothers me #some ppl want this to be canon bc… ‘chemistry’#this is part of what I meant when I said I’d fight for Sydney #Sydney…baby girl stand behind me #whether you end up with Carmy 😍 heart motherfucker personified #the puppy Marcus #or someone else #it will not be Richie!!!#and yes Sydney deserves romance as well #I want her to fuck someone who is into her not a man who demeaned her because he’s in his feelings

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