but can you imagine Supergirl pulling out a Legend of Korra finale for Supercorp at the end of season 2 or 3 ?
Like there ya go Kara realizing that Mon isn’t that good for her and that the girl who was standing there the whole time supporting her (and saving her ass, everybody’s ass really) is in fact the love of her life ?
People are trying to flatter me, telling me “your ideas are better than what we got” and “you should be writing the show” – ummm helloooooooooo I’m not writing anything! I’m interpreting all of the clues we were given. That’s what I’ve been doing for a year straight. You think I came up with a better marketing scheme for Sherlock episode 4? You think I came up with a better interpretation of The Final Problem than what was intended? I assure you, that is not the case. I am not a better writer than Moffat or Gatiss. I do not have better ideas about this show than they do. Every idea I’ve ever posted, every interpretation, directly correlates to the code they’ve given us over the past seven years. It’s like Sherlock predicting the future in The Lying Detective. He doesn’t guess, he knows everything about his friends in order to accurately see the situation unfold. I’m not writing what I think will happen, I’m not writing what I hope will happen – I’m writing what I know will happen based off the information I’ve been given. This is a logic puzzle. Cause and effect. That’s what TJLC does – “Can’t everyone do that?”
I don’t have a huge following on here but I just have to say that the lost episode theory is beyond unlikely.
1. We saw no additional setlock scenes (aside from some involving Mary giving birth) that were totally thrown away or could have made for an additional episode’s worth of material.
2. Sherlock is one of the BBC’s most popular shows. They would NOT just give up the opportunity to market a fourth episode and lose all that viewership. It’s just not a smart move.
3. Apple Tree Yard, while having a sparse IMDB page, does involve real actors and definitely seems to be a real show. Again, it would be a waste of money to lose the Sherlock audience by marketing something completely unrelated.
I’m really sorry, I’m so so sorry, but I would not get my hopes up for a secret episode. I disliked TFP as much as all of you, but I don’t think they’re redeeming themselves this way.
Every right winger had that libertarian phase when they thought the free market could fix any issue before they came to the sobering realisation that western civilisation would collapse if all decision making was left up to market forces.
It had seemed like such a long day, glancing at his watch every few minutes, not really paying attention to Arthur’s chatter.
He practically flies out of the portacabin when the day is done, rushing as quickly as he could home.
He’s quiet throughout their home, stopping only for a drink of water in the kitchen, beginning to tiptoe toward their bedroom.
The door creaks lightly, he shushing the door without thinking, seeing the silhouette of his partner laying still, telly on, the volume very low.
He knew Douglas liked the background noise every now and again, especially when he was sick.
He smiles at the lump, toeing off his shoes, foregoing changing into his pyjamas, just wanting to cuddle Douglas.
“Hmm, Martin?” Came the slightly slurred words of Douglas just as Martin has put a knee up on the bed, ready to climb in.
“It’s me. Go back to sleep.”
“Mm, don’t want to,” He reaches over, clicking on their side table lamp, the soft yellow glow illuminating them both softly, “I was only really dozing while waiting for you.”
“Is that so?” Martin questions with a smile, curling up into Douglas, hand rubbing his tummy gently.
“Mm hmm. I missed you.”
“I missed you too,” He kisses his cheek, his chin, reaching up to kiss his eye, Douglas chuckling lightly,
“Are you feeling better?” His hand wanders up Douglas’ shirt, he leaning his head on the other as he looks upon his partner lovingly.
“Loads, darling. I bet I could fly GERT-I with one hand tied behind my back, I’m that terrific.”
Martin just grins, hand continuously rubbing Douglas’ belly,
“God, what am I going to do with you?”
“Hmm, bugger me senseless?” He cocks his eyebrow, Martin not helping but snorting loudly, shaking his head at his partner.
“Maybe when you’re one-hundred percent,” They smile at one another, Martin’s eyebrows furrowing, biting his lower lip,
“Are you really okay, though? You do feel better?”
“Yes, I feel lovely, I do feel better.”
“I-I just,” Martin bites his lip again, sniffling the lightest sniffle, “I was scared. I was so worried when you wouldn’t go in, and then when you started acting loopy-”
“It was only the fever doing that, Martin. Hey… Hey now,” He murmurs lovingly, thumb wiping a tear away from Martin’s cheek, “I am really okay, love.”
“I just, just don’t want anything to happen to you, I-”
“And nothing will, alright?”
Martin takes a moment, nodding, “You need to promise you’ll go in right away next time at the first sign of being sick though.”
“Will that make you feel better?” he nods eagerly, his hold on Douglas tightening,
“I promise, love. I promise, promise, promise. Alright?”
“Alright,” He sniffs once more, nuzzling his face into Douglas shoulder, not wanting wipe away his watery eyes with his hand,
“Have you had anything to eat?”
“Hmm… Can’t say that I have. Been sleeping on and off all day.”
“Would you like a little soup? Maybe some toast?”
Douglas only nods, Martin giving his lips a light peck.
“I’ll, I’ll go and make that then. Have it in here, we can watch some bad telly together?”
“Sounds like a plan.” Douglas smiles, Martin’s heart melting at the smile that was directed towards him.
He doesn’t make the move to go make soup though, not just yet, holding Douglas a little longer.
“I love you.” Martin softly says, feeling a kiss in his hair.
“I love you too, Martin. So very much.”
❤ * * *
Well… I like Marlas, what can I say? >u>
Ummmmmmmmm, but yes. This is from yesterday, so I still need to do a sketch/doodle for today. :)
I very much like how they turned out. :) I used watercolors over my col-erase pencils and then inked it. :) The sketchbook I got takes light washes pretty okay, but marker is out of the question. The other side looks like you marked that side, I’ve never seen it before (it takes ink very nicely though, it’s a bit odd). O.o
But yeah. I’ve just had so many fanfic/fanart/Marlas ideas lately, and a bigger Marlas project thingy that I’m working on that I can’t help but sketch them out and share right when I finish them. :)
Anyhoo, enough of my babbling. I do so hope you enjoy, m’dears!
i could be REALLY. Nit picky. Go into one of my long posts. But i mean everyones entitled to their own opinions, HOWEVER i did stop paying attention to that guy and any of his opinions when he said halsey seems to play up her bisexuality for marketing since he’s never seen her with a girl 👎😁
That’s some messy work, hunny. In the words of the man himself,
I have some very specific headcanons about markets in the Zones.
First off, they’re pop-up markets- you never really know where all the runners and traders that make up the market are going to gather next, or who’s going to be there, which makes them pretty unreliable if you need something specific. Your best bet if to keep your ears trained on the airwaves in hopes that someone mentions where they are that day, and hopefully its close by.
(This is why Tommy Chow Mein can operate the shitty way he does- he’ll have what you need and you’ll always know where he is.)
Because the market exists in the Zones, the stalls, if you can call them that, can be taken down and packed up in under a minute.Usually they’re made up of a few crates stacked together as a display table, with the seller’s car backed up so the trunk is both accessible and also able to be used for displays. Most take wooden posts or poles or whatever the can find to put up a tarp or blanket as a sunshade.
A lot of zone runners come to the market to get rid of anything extra they may have picked or found, while a lot of artists show up to try and sell their work or skills. Need a new jacket or or ray gun painted? This is the place to go, if o can find it.
*I have been staring at this chapter for days debating with myself over the development. But you all have given me such love and I like this chapter too much to change it. Hope you like it too!*
Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan
Warnings: mild language
“Wakey wakey.” I shook Pan awake the next morning. “We have a lot of walking to do.”
“For god’s sake woman, why do you have to get up so early?” he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.
“Stop complaining. You’re the one that wanted to get to a town so let’s go.” It seemed to take him a moment to remember what had happened yesterday. When he came to he gave me a dirty look and spent the next ten minutes grumbling about getting us stuck in this situation.
“So, Pan, any idea on how we’re going to find a way back home?”
“Hit up the black markets and dodgy parts of town. We’re bound to find something sooner or later.” he shrugged, “Also, it might be safer for you to stop calling me Pan when we’re here.”
“Enchanted Forest. I’ve made some enemies, most of them from here. If they were to catch wind of me being here with no way to escape then it could prove rather bad for us.”
“What do you want me to call you? Andrew? Robert? Eugene?”
“Peter will suffice.” he rolled his eyes, “Don’t look so giddy, it’s just my name.”
“Yeah, but you never let anyone call you by your first name.”
“Well, glad to have the non-honor, Peter.”
He shoved me but I could tell it was in good spirits. I knocked him back and we kept shoving each other like that until I ended up body slamming him to the ground. He stared up at me in shock before an oddly calm grin took over his features. “You are gonna pay for that one, Lost Girl!”
“Only if you can catch me!” I took off running and he followed after me. When he did catch up he tackled me to the ground. “Nice one, Pete.”
He turned me over and cocked an eyebrow up at me. “What? Don’t like Pete?”
“No.” he said in a very serious tone that made me chuckle. “Something funny?”
“No, no…you just got so serious.” I teased.
“Come on,” he pulled me up.
“I guess I can’t call you Petey then either, huh?”
At this his eye started twitching. “Calm down I was just joking. You need to find yourself a sense of humor.”
After a couple hours Peter and I found a town and using some money I pickpocketed got a room in the inn. Sleeping outside was no problem but it was freezing here. One small room with only one bed and a hard wooden chair created some issues. It took some serious arguing on my end to get him to even allow me to stay in the room. According to him since it was my fault we were stuck here I should have slept on the floor but I reminded him that we only got this room from the money I pickpocketed so I deserved it more. In the end we ended up having to share the bed which, let me tell you, wasn’t easy!
“Keep your feet on your side!” I shoved his freezing feet away from me.
“Well I would if you didn’t hog all the blankets!”
“Maybe you’d be warmer if you put a shirt on!”
“I can’t sleep with a shirt on! You’re not wearing any pants!”
“Cause they’re caked with mud!”
“For the love of–” he yanked hard on the blanket, pulling more to his side.
“I don’t have any now!”
“How about you complain about it more, I’m sure that’ll warm you up.”
“Fine, I don’t need a blanket. My seething anger will keep me warm.”
“Sounds good to me.” he rolled over so his back was to me. I curled into myself trying to retain some body heat and eventually drifted off to sleep.
The ringing of bells woke me up the next morning. I rubbed the sleep from my eyes and realized I was alone in the room. Where had Peter gone so early in the morning? As if he knew I was thinking about him Peter strode back in with a bundle of clothing and wearing something that wasn’t his. “What’s all this?”
“If we’re going to be stuck here we need to blend in or else the townspeople are going to think we’re nothing but bandits.” he threw me some clothes, “Get dressed.”
“Alright.” I stood up and stripped out of my old worn shirt and into the dress Peter had found me. “Do I have to wear a dress?”
“Stop complaining.” he tossed me my dagger. “Also keep that concealed, nothing screams suspicious than a girl with a bloody knife.”
After we were dressed we left to get some breakfast and look around the village. It was a rather large village bustling with activity and a castle way up on the horizon. I wonder whose kingdom we were in?
We went around to some seedy shops looking for some form of magic to get us back home. Everywhere we looked though the seller either tried to pass off junk to us or simply didn’t have anything magical.
“This is getting tedious.” I groaned, “I know I’m not well versed in magical objects but even I could tell that was just some crudely painted piece of wood.”
“Oh no, Y/N, it was a rare charm specially made to find magic beans out in the wilds.” Peter grinned and I found myself smiling back. “But in all honesty we are being shown nothing but junk it seems.”
“What do we do now?”
“Care for something to eat?”
“Yes please.” I snuck some coins off a passerby and we grabbed some bread and cheese at a stand.
“Hey, I have a serious question for you.” Peter broke off some bread I was holding.
“Do you really not know what a camel is?”
“When I was telling you about the spinner women I mentioned one of them had a lip that drooped like a camel and you said–”
“Okay, I get it. No, I do not know what a camel is. What’s a camel?”
“It’s an animal, kind of like a horse but with a longer neck and their back has these large bumps on them.” he explained, “I can tell by the idiot expression you aren’t getting this.”
“Here,” I pulled a wanted poster off a wall, “Draw me a picture.”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes. Draw me a picture of a camel.”
“Fine.” He pulled me into the inn and we sat down near the fire. With a piece of charcoal in hand he set to work as I nibbled at the cheese we bought.
“So focused.” I tried to peer at the paper.
“You will wait until I’m finished.” he blocked it from view with his arm.
“Ugh, you artists.” I rolled my eyes. A minute later he slid the paper across to me. “I’d say it looks just like the real thing but y’know…”
“Thanks,” he snatched the paper back.
“But for real, you can really draw.” I stood up and grabbed another wanted poster off the wall and turned it over for him. “Draw me something else?”
“I demand pay for my creations madam!” he said in an overly grandiose voice.
“Then you shall receive it kind sir.” I tossed him a silver coin. “Now give me a drawing worthy to hang on my palace walls!”
“As the madam wishes, I will draw you the most beautiful portrait of my career.” I tried not to laugh as he set to his drawing. While I waited for him to finish I grabbed a book that was laying on a nearby table and began to read. I hadn’t had to read in so long I was afraid I might have forgotten.
The night grew late and I felt myself starting to nod off. “Hey, Y/N,” Peter tapped my arm perking me awake again, “Your grand piece of art.”
“Done?” I took the paper. His hands were covered in charcoal smears and there were charcoal shavings from him sharpening it. “You really put a lot of work into this didn’t you?”
“Of course. I promised my best work.”
“Then let’s see this…” my words trailed into nothing as I took in the drawing. It’s…it’s me. I didn’t look in mirrors all day but the likeness was uncanny. It was my profile staring down at something with focus.
“You drew me?” I sought his face. He was already looking at me when I faced him. Those hard green eyes were softer and his cocky smirk was replaced with a gentle smile.
“Yeah. Well you were sitting right there reading and the way the firelight was casting the shadows it…” he dropped my gaze like the act burned him, “I drew you. So what?”
I looked back down at the drawing. “I love it. Thank you.”
“It wasn’t anything.” he shrugged. “I’m going to get a drink, you want one?”
“Oh no. It’s late, I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” I folded the drawing and stuck it in my skirt pocket. “If you get drunk though and bring up some floozy I will throw you out the window. Got it?”
“Yes ma’am.” he gave a mock salute as he wandered toward the bar.
I don’t know what it is but since leaving Neverland Peter was nicer. He was nice to me enough when we weren’t trying to kill each other but here things were different. It felt easy. Walking around town, joking, talking, and whatnot. That was the only way I could describe it. Things were easy. I felt like a wall had been torn down after years of chipping. He was still my leader and the boy that has tried to kill me numerous times no doubt, he was still Pan. Just watching him saunter over to the bar while I climbed the stairs to our room felt blissfully mundane. A part of me almost wished that we wouldn’t find a portal back to Neverland if it kept this lull of peace going on just a bit longer.
I went back to our room and changed out of the dress and back into my traveling shirt. At least I don’t have to fight for the bed tonight. I pulled the blankets up to my chin and was soon asleep.
Peter was true to his word and didn’t bring any floozies up to the room in a drunken stupor. What I did wake up to though was far stranger. He was back in the bed with his head laying on my chest and an arm wrapped around my middle fast asleep.
Okay…how do I get out of this?
I started to peel his arm off me then stopped when I caught a look at his face. He looked so peaceful. Everything about him was intense all the time that to see this was strange. Without realizing it I had brought a hand up to his head, running my fingers through his hair.
“What am I doing?” I whispered to myself and slid out from underneath him. The movement woke him up and he sat up. He gave me bleary glare.
“Why do you have to get up early all the time?” he flopped back against the bed.
“Habit.” I pulled the blanket off the bed. “Come on, we’re burning daylight.”
He begrudgingly got out of bed and the pair of us went back into town for another day of searching. I didn’t mention the fact that I had woken up intertwined with him. I doubt it would have gone over well and he probably would have just found a way to tease me with it.
After our failure yesterday we weren’t too optimistic on our chances of finding a magic bean or some other kind of realm jumper today. After the first dozen of rotten back alleys Peter was cranky and I was hungry. We went back to the inn early just as the sun was starting to dip on the horizon.
“I’m starving.” I moaned, “Got any money for food?”
“No, but we don’t need any.” he pulled me up off the bed. “I heard wedding bells ringing earlier and the inn was bustling with activity. I’m sure they wouldn’t notice if there are two extra guests at the reception.”
“We don’t exactly look like we’d fit in at a wedding reception do we?” I gestured to our stolen clothes and dirtied faces.
“Easily remedied.” he waved his hand and the pair of us were cleaned up. Peter dressed in a white shirt, green coat and black pants with matching black boots. I looked down at myself and saw that I was now wearing a red velvet gown embroidered with golden ivy leaves at the sleeves and neck.
“You love it you know you do.” he smirked back at me with a proffered arm. “Now, shall we?”
I rolled my eyes but took his arm and we went downstairs to join the festivities. We must have looked like we fit in quite well as others came up greeting us with smiles and offering us drinks and food. We sat down and filled our bellies with hot chicken, fresh bread, buttery potatoes and sweet cake, not to mention a good amount of wine and ale.
Music pulsated through the inn and everyone was dancing jubilantly. Well almost everyone. Peter and I sat away from the dancers, content to sip wine and chat amongst ourselves. Everyone looked to be having such fun though…
“Excuse me,” one of the young men from the bridal party approached us, “Care to dance miss?”
“No, she wouldn’t.” Peter said before I could answer.
“Yes, she would.” I stood up taking the boy’s hand, “Just cause you don’t dance doesn’t mean I don’t have to.”
“Y/N…” he warned.
“Like you were ever going to ask me.” I rolled my eyes and let myself be led out towards the other dancers. The boy held onto my waist as we started twirling to the music. I let out a wine induced giggle as the stranger and I danced.
The song ended and another began to swell anew. A different boy came up to me looking for a dance but was intercepted by Peter who pulled me away. I was pressed into him before being spun out and back in. “What’s this about?”
“Me asking you for a dance.” he shrugged.
“You didn’t ask though.” I reminded him.
“Details…” He held tight to my waist, spinning me so my feet scarcely touched the ground. Maybe it was the wine or the party or a combination of the two but we danced the entire night through, drowning reality with fantasy. Anytime someone tried to cut in Peter pulled me away with a cold look at whoever came near. I knew none of this would last. We were just playing pretend until we found a way back to Neverland. That was even if Peter still wanted me to come back once we did find a way. Until then I was content here dancing with him, tipsy and carefree.
It was like a dream. One of those dreams where everything feels so real and you’re so happy but the moment you wake up it fades into nothing leaving you empty in a way you can’t explain. That’s all this was, and I was dreading the moment when we finally woke up.
A line dance started and everyone was stomping their feet and shouting with good cheer making me forget my worries once more. One by one couples went down the line starting with the newly married couple. Peter and I ran down the tunnel of people, hands tightly intertwined and brows glistening with sweat.
Skipping, spinning, twirling in and out along with the wild frenzied beat until the song struck it last triumphant note and Peter and I were pressed flushed against each other breathing deep and smiling wide. His gaze flickered to my lips before leaning and pushing his mouth against mine. I could taste wine and sweat as I kissed him back. It was by no means a pretty kiss. It was hungry and gasping and passionate and fervid. I wrapped my arms around the back of his neck so to get a better angle.
His hands wandered down to my hips. The music was drowned out by the sound of my heart pounding hard in my ears. He pulled away from my lips to nuzzle his face into my neck. His hot breath puffing like fire against my already scorching skin.
Then the dream came crashing down.
“Peter?” We froze and Peter pulled away. There was a girl with powder blonde hair and a worn pink dress staring at us with disgust. “You–you–!”
“Ah, Scarlet?” His voice sounded deeper than it did earlier.
“Giselle!” the girl screeched.
“Right…uh…how have you been?”
“Impatient, waiting for my dear lover to return with the ring he promised me!” The noise of the inn lowered as the others stopped to watch the scene.
“Oh my god…” I snorted.
“You! You’re the one that defiled my daughter!” A very large man approached us, murder in his eyes.
“Uh Y/N, I think it’s time for us to go.” He pulled on my hand and we made a shot for the door. We ran out into the town square and stumbled down into an alley out of sight. When it looked like we weren’t being followed we both broke out laughing.
“I thought that inn looked familiar.” he was doubled over, tears in his eyes.
“I cannot believe you! You are such a whore!” I couldn’t breathe I was laughing so hard.
“So this is my fault?”
“It is! It is entirely your fault!” I took in a deep breath. The dreamlike scenario already flitting away into obscurity as rational thought tried to regain control over my wine addled brain. “Well, casanova, where are we supposed to sleep now that we can’t go back to our room?”
Peter seemed to be having the same problem and had to take a moment to catch his breath before speaking. “We’ll make camp out in the forest. Not anything we’re not used to right?”
“Right.” we left the alley, leaning on each other as we escaped the town and found a clearing in the forest. Peter changed our clothes back to normal which I was only a little disappointed in. I wouldn’t admit it but playing dress up for the night had been fun.
We pulled some branches together and made an impromptu shelter for one. The other would stay up and keep watch. “Get some rest.” Peter sat next to the fire he had conjured.
“No, I can take first watch.” I tried to answer but he just shook his head.
“You’ll nod off, especially now that you have about a dozen glasses of wine swimming through ya. Go to bed.”
“Fine. But wake me up in a couple hours for my watch.” I yawned as I laid down to sleep on the chilled forest floor. Strangest night ever.