the grinch is fucked up right. he was created specifically as a critique of the commercialization of christmas, but now all his edge has been sanded off. now he's a generic mascot for "hates christmas," which is great to have because the commercialization of christmas has become so overbearing that that's a demographic you can market to! and now he's just part of the Christmas Fold. he's santa's edgier joker counterpart. he has become the very thing he sought to destroy. back in november i checked out a customer with a $1100 order and most of it was grinch merchandise
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs; being purged, a fire sparkling in loversā eyes; being vexed, a sea nourished with loversā tears. What is it else? A madness most discreet, a choking gall, and a preserving sweet.
Never (say goodbye) | Jamie x Reader Ā | 28 Years Later | M | 2.5k
28 Years Later | 2.5k | Jamie x Reader
28 Years masterlist | Aaron Taylor Johnson character masterlist | AO3: Otaku_girl
Summary: A simple misstep leaves you injured on the mainland. With high tide rapidly approaching, Jamie refuses to leave your side.
Warnings: Potential spoilers for the film. Canon-level peril/fear.
A/N: New blorbo unlocked.
Links: Never (say goodbye) - AO3
Never (say goodbye)
āIām so sorry.ā
There isnāt time for mourning. It doesnāt matter that he has known you since you were both children. That you can still remember what things were like before. Before the outbreak. Before new rules. Before new ways of dying. Before the world went to shit. Before he was someone elseās and no longer yours.Ā
You can see movement out of the corner of your eye as he scrambles down after you, bow still in hand, dark curls flying. The second heās on his feet his bow is up and at full draw and he is moving, moving, moving.Ā
āDonāt you dare,ā you hiss, clutching at your ankle as he draws closer. You know you havenāt been bitten, that not a single drop of blood has gotten into you. It has been minutes, not seconds, and all you feel is weary acceptance. You both know what must happen now. You know that there is no coming back from this.Ā
āFuck.ā
There are rules. Rules that everyone in your little community knows. Once you leave the island, no one is coming to save you. Each time you step past those gates and off onto the causeway, you know the risk you are taking. There are no rescues; itās something everyone has learned the hard way. If you leave, you may never return. You knew the risks and now you will reap what you have sewn.
It doesnāt make it any easier as you stare down at your clearly broken ankle, miles from the causeway. Miles from safety, and with high tide only an hour away, maybe a little longer if you are lucky. Not that it matters; The moment you fell, the second you felt that embankment give out from under you, you knew what the outcome would be.Ā
At least it wasnāt one of the infected,Ā you think, swallowing back tears of pain and anger and fear.Ā Christ, if a crawler took me out I would never live it down. At least this way, I can still choose to go out on my own terms.Ā
āThereās nothing here, Jamie. It was just shitty luck. Thereās no need to apologise; I know how this needs to end.ā You wipe at your eyes with the heel of your hand, trying to hide how badly they are shaking. He isnāt even looking at you, still circling, still keeping watch for you both. Itās sweet, but stupid. He doesnāt have time for this.Ā
āWe all know the score. Get going. You still have time to find something worthwhile on your way back if you move quickly. Tellā¦āĀ you trail off. Thereās no one left to ask him to tell. Jamieās all you have left. You hope he will move on, that heāll find someone new he can settle down with. Someone else he can make happy. Being a widower twice over at his age wonāt be easy, but what in this life is?Ā
We may fall, but go on we must.Ā
Your bow and arrows are long since gone, lost in your tumble. You squint, looking for them; anything to help speed up Jamieās departure. Nobody can afford to leave weapons behind out here on the mainland. Your hand falls to your waist, to the knife that is still in your pocket. You should give it to him; it will be wasted on you soon enough. But, it would be easier than the alternatives. Jamie can forgive you for one last selfish act, canāt he? Even if you canāt forgive yourself. Will it be sharp enough to do the job? You arenāt certain, but you intend to find out. As soon as heās gone.Ā
Can I afford one more sunset?Ā You rest your hand on the hilt, roughened fingertips running along the smooth wood.. Your hair hangs around your face in a limp curtain, obscuring the world from your view.Ā Just a few more minutes. Just until Iām sure that heās gone. Until I know that he wonāt see.Ā
Wind rustles through the trees, the faint sound of birdsong letting you know that, for now, there are no infected nearby. For now, you arenāt safe ā nobody isĀ safeĀ ā but you should have a little more time. You glance up, hoping to catch one last glimpse of Jamie as he leaves. Thereās no point in prolonged goodbyes. The moment you tripped, the moment that you fell, he should have separated you out in his mind; you are part of his past now.Ā Ā
I should have listened to Jamie. I should never have come out here.Ā Itās a fleeting thought and a ridiculous one. You could never have lived with yourself if you had left Jamie to come out here on his own, day after day, year after year. Now, you will have to pay the price.
Slowly, you look up through lowered lashes; you arenāt sure your heart can take it if heās already passed over that ridge. If heās already gone. Your heart stutters in your chest. Familiar boots stand less than a foot away. You sit back, eyes wide. His bow is no longer notched. Fury and fear and relief overwhelm you, choking you.Ā
āYou need to leave.ā The words come out wobbly, your voice cracking. If he stays any longer, you are going to break. You are going to break, and you are going to beg for something that you have no right to ask for. And that? You canāt do that to him. That canāt be the last memory you leave him with. āWhat are you waiting for? Go!ā
He has your bow slung over his shoulder alongside his, more arrows in his quiver than he had minutes earlier. He doesnāt say a word as he crouches beside you, taking in your ankle, a mess of blood and bone. He reaches for your neck and you think, for one blissful, calming moment, that he has found the strength to do it. To do what you know he would want done for him in return. Your eyes slide closed; if Jamie can give you this gift, you wonāt force him to watch the life fade from your eyes.Ā
Thick fingers tug the scarf from around your neck, snatching it away before you can open your eyes again. Between one breath and the next he shoves something between your teeth ā the hilt of his knife ā and then hands are on your ankle, forcing it straight, turning your vision white. You donāt make a sound; you canātĀ breathe, the pain overwhelming your senses, your world narrowing down to the white hot heat radiating out from your ankle. It hurts. It hurts so terribly, you arenāt sure how you are still conscious.
An eternity passes.Ā
A whimper leaves your lips as the pain finally begins to fade. You arenāt sprawled on the grass anymore. Dark, lank hair brushes your cheeks. Youāre bouncing. Why is the world moving? You force your eyes open. Youāre in Jamieās arms in a bridal carry, your cheek pressed against the dirty,Ā faded red-pink fabric of his jacket as he runs.
The knife is no longer between your teeth but you wish that it was. You canāt hold back the little pained whimpers and gasps now that you have given them voice. You are going to give away your position if Jamie doesnāt do it first.Ā
āWhat are you doing? You canāt protect yourself and hold me,ā you say, gritting your teeth through the pain. Your hand spasms around his jacket, clutching it tightly between trembling fingers. He is going to get himself killed. āYou canātĀ doĀ this. You know the rules. You knowāāĀ
āIām not losing you.ā
āYou already lost me. Itās already too late.ā Breath hitching, a sob escapes from between your lips. You slap at his chest weakly, fingers curling into fists. His grip only serves to tighten. āPut me down, Jamie. I wonāt take you with me. I wonāt. You need toāā
āEither we both make it back home, or we spend our last moments together.ā Arms ā already so tight, so strong, so resilient ā tighten further, shaking you as he forces you to meet his gaze. āI am not leaving you behind.ā
The trees are beginning to thin. Water rushes somewhere nearby; youāre headed inland, not towards the shore. What is he thinking? Heāll miss low tide at this rate. Not that he has a hope in hell of making it while heās carrying you, but without you? He still stands a chance.
āThink. You arenāt thinking clearly. You canāt make it back in time with me. I am slowing you down. IĀ willĀ get you killed. You have toāā
Sharp eyes flick towards you. Itās no more than a second that he holds your gaze, but it says everything that needs to be said. Your heart aches. He wonāt be going back without you, no matter how much you try and reason with him.Ā
You bite your lip, tears finally slipping free ā not for yourself, but for him. āStupid, stubborn, ridiculous man.ā
āAye, reckon I am. Itās one of the things you love about me.ā His arms tighten around you. Heās moving with purpose. Not, you realise, panicking in his rush to put distance between you and the sight of your accident; the scent of fresh blood combined with the sound will have attracted more of them, and knowing your luck? It wonāt be just the crawlers. No; heās moving south, further inland. It doesnāt make any sense. Unlessā¦
āNo. Itās not safe to try the cottage. Itās half fallen down and we donāt have the supplies to make it anywhere near secure.ā Desperation bleeds into your words, even as you are careful to keep your voice low. āJamie, pleaseā¦ please. Itās time to let me go. Even if by some miracle we make it through the night, then what? My ankle isnāt going to be fixed by low tide. We will be sitting ducks trying to make it back to the shore.ā
Jamieās pace slows as you approach the edge of the treeline, the forest giving way to less familiar ground. You havenāt been out here anywhere near as much as he has. You know how much it worries him when you leave the island. Youāre starting to think that he might have been right.
āLet me worry about that. When have I ever let you down? Iām going to get us home.ā He adjusts his grip on you, and your arm goes around his neck instinctively. His face softens as he looks down at you, determination still shining clearly beneath it all. A broad hand comes up to cup your cheek, drawing your lips towards his. Youāre not the only one with tears in your eyes as Jamie presses his forehead to yours and says, āTogether, or not at all.ā
Your ankle is screaming at you. Itās not far, you know, and Jamie is the one carrying you still, hauling you across miles upon miles without pause, without break. It jolts painfully as he runs; you donāt dare bite down on your lip to stifle the noise, lest you bite straight through it.Ā
You take a steadying breath.Ā I canāt let him do this.Ā It is sweet, that he would be this devoted to you. But sweet wonāt keep him safe and alive.Ā I have to keep trying. For Jamie.
āJamie. Love. I know we havenāt had as long together as we hoped, butā¦ you have to learn to let go. Iād rather die knowing that youāre safeāā
āAnd Iād rather you not die at all! So, for god's sake, let me do this. Not for you. For me.āĀ
Your heart aches. He has already lost so much. An islander born and bred, you know that their community lost so many in those first months. Nothing compared to the mainlanders; you remember fleeing, snatches of bloodstained memories that still haunt your dreams.Ā
You remember your father falling before you reached Newcastle. Your Mam made it as far as Fenwick. It was a miracle you had made it as far as the causeway by yourself; you hadnāt even known what you were looking for, not really. You were just lucky that it was back in the days before new rules came into place. Before outsiders were no longer welcomed with open arms, and rescues were still possible.Ā
You donāt remember much of those first months, those first years, living on the island. But you do remember him. The boy ā not quite a teen, nowhere near a man ā with the weary blue eyes and a soft smile for anyone who looked his way. You had thought, for a timeā¦ but then Jame and Isla had becomeĀ Jamie & Isla,Ā and you were no more than an afterthought.
It wasnāt as if there was an abundance of partners for you to choose from. You had told yourself you could be content to be alone. Had convinced yourself of it even, as you had moved from adolescence to adulthood, unable to help yourself as you had watched Jamie from the shadows.Ā
Islaās illness had been a blessing, and a curse. You had seen first-hand how it had devastated Jamie as she deteriorated. You had found yourself thinking thoughts no good person should have. He deserved better. He deserved to be free.
I always knew he was too good to be mine. What more proof could I need?
āYou would find somebody else,ā you murmur, your words almost too low to hear.Ā
āThereās nobody else for me.ā
You choke back the words threatening to spill from your mouth. He had thought that once before, hadnāt he? Had made promises to Isla he had made to no one else. Yet here you are, in his arms. He has done it once; he can do it again.Ā
Blue eyes cut through you. You know if you turned now, you could see the cottage in the distance, half crumbling and with half a dozen outbuildings, each less stable than the last. He comes to a halt by the tree line, gently lowering you to your feet. You cling to his neck, your body unwilling to let go even as your mind protests. He slings one of the bows from his shoulder, pushing it and a handful of arrows into your limp grasp. You are careful not to allow your right foot to touch the ground.Ā
āI love you.ā He cups your cheek, pressing your foreheads together. Silent tears fall down your cheeks. Thereās no point in warning you to run if you hear something, to leave if he isnāt out within a set time. You both know that if anything happens to him, it will be only minutes before the same happens to you. There will be no running.Ā
āIāll come back for you.ā
You watch as he moves on silent feet, making his way to the cottage and the darkness beyond. Your heart clenches, yet you feel nothing but a sense of calm. No matter how much time you have left, at least you know that you will spend it together. He may not have said the words to you yet, but you can still hear them in every glance, in every move, in every action.Ā
i really do love those military jackets with embroidery that resembles a gilded ribcage they serve sooooooo much thanatological cunt it's unreal. the memento mori of it all. the bastardised martyrdom. the self-fulfilling prophecy of dressing yourself in silver and gold evoking the final, fragile shield between the most vital, vulnerable parts of you and annihilation, just to go to a place where the objective is to hack it to pieces as cruelly and efficiently as possible until you resemble nothing more than ground meat trodden into the dust you came from. fuck the military for real and forever but they went harder with horrifically ironic self-deceiving propaganda than anyone ever has or will. give it up for the old lie everyone!
I arrive at the yarn store and grab a skein off the shelf, the exact same brand, type, weight and color of the one I bought a week ago. Everyone in the store immediately knows that I miscalculated the amount of yarn I'd need for a project. They start booing at me. They are throwing crocheted tomatoes at me. The old lady giving knitting lessons in the corner is shaking her head. She had such high hopes for me. The cashier spits at me when I pay for it.
Unrealistic. The gods of knitting punish you for this directly by discontinuing the skein as you pass over the threshold of the store, vanishing any remaining stock.
the whole submarine thing is definitely a Magnus Archives episode, there is absolutely no doubt about that.
The question is, is it:
a) a vast episode about being lost in a deep sea, maybe the titanic they found gets lost and all they can see is dark water, and then shapes start to appear in it and are dragging then down as to not be found
OR
b) a buried episode about being in a tiny confined space with 5 other people as oxygen levels go down and its harder to breathe, and the pressing weight of the water makes everything feel even more claustrophobic
