The thing with Jon is that he is actually really funny! His delightfully dry and sarcastic sense of humor is pleasantly visible from the beginning, and it's gradual decline as pressure builds up is pointed. He never loses his humor though, and in so many cases the crisis enhances it.
It makes me consider his childhood. Jon's rejected, ignored and hushed pretty often but it scarcely stops his witty comments; is this the environment he grew up it? Its not uncommon for elderly people to have dry humor also, and the mask of academia goes hand in hand with sarcasm.
What's really fascinating about Jon's humor however, is how it changes during the apocalypse. When he no longer has to mantain a professional image or his integrity in any way his humor takes much more of a forefront. Of course, he's still under a tremendous amount of pressure so it would be ridiculous for him to be funny all of the time, but when the social stakes are lowered he's much more open.
We see it in many moments when he's with Martin, and even with Basira, Melanie, and Georgie. His jokes are a lot more honest, and he allows them to be simply funny instead of lacing them with intellectualism. For the first time him being professional, polite, and socially acceptable will do absolutely nothing to help him and he's able to let go.
Even in through the various moments of struggle in their journey Jon's able to be more relaxed, which in turn seems to create better outcomes; I'd say that this is because it's not his fault for once, but since he very clearly believes that it is, this reaction is likely as a result of the fact that it absolutely and categorically could not get any worse .
This, I think, is a reason Jon and Martin were able to get so far (and remain so engaging). Even in the darkest depths, the worst of the worst, their survival instincts and coping mechanisms compliment eachother greatly. Jon provides information, knowledge, and the light relief of a very good joke. Martin provides care, concern, and emotional critical thinking.
Their love for eachother was the glue that held together a very well suited team, and together their skills and even their flaws carried them forward.
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Okay guys so I know we all lightly tease Charles for seemingly never actually thinking through any of the emotions he ever has but it occurred to me, what if he has alexithymia?!? Between his very obvious ADHD and his apparent lack of ever addressing how he feels, alexithymia would explain a lot actually. I mean even in hell he's saying he needs more time to process how he feels and basically wants to NOT have to think about it in the moment on the stairs. Like that boy has alexithymia. He needs his reflective time Edwin, give him time.
Also also like he never wants to talk about himself, only address other's needs and feelings which is just so alexithymia?? I mean I know it's partly his trauma response but also it's such an alexithymia personality trait too. Alexithymia makes every choice he makes make sooooo much more sense. That and the adhd impulsivity, but it didn't really feel like it was the whole picture. Alexithymia was the missing key
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Happy Valentines day my friends!
I sincerely apologize for the lack of content, i am drawing stuff but i just have no motivation to post anything, so sorry about that
Also it's barely still the 14th where i am, due to technical difficulties this digital drawing took like 4 hours to make not including the traditional sketch i made yesterday.
Anyways, these two are Amara (left) and Mabel (right) and i honestly don't have much to say about them, i just love them :)
Sorry for the wacky proportions i just couldn't get them quite right
Amara, She/Her
Mabel, She/Her (fine with They/Them)
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Several times recently I've found myself making tea whilst listening to The Magnus Archives, and as a result I've developed a silly little headcanon...
I'm not sure if it's a nationwide thing, but certainly throughout my life I've experienced the weird stigma of having sugar in your tea. It's not direct or aggressive, but there always seems to be this vague notion that sweetening your tea makes you less strong, less manly. I rarely see men ask for sugar, and often observe an obvious proudness in teenage boys when they say "no sugar, thanks."
Picture Jonathan Sims, newly appointed archivist, worried he's not good enough, placed haphazardly in power of people who were very recently peers, and desperately trying to prove he's the right man for the job. Everything seems to be falling apart a bit, and he's not at all sure his assistants have any faith in him; he had to ask for a tape recorder because he couldn't get his laptop to work properly - that's embarrassing.
Now imagine Martin: office sweetheart, gets along with pretty much anyone, just moved to a new position working with two close friends, and the attractive guy from research is his boss (he's a bit rude and stuck up, but it's probably just the stress, right?). He's pretty comfortable! Aside from the occasional snide remark from Jon it is a good job, which is especially pleasing considering how he got to work at the institute in the first place.
Two opposing forces, as we all well know! But what's better at building bridges than a nice cup of tea? Martin makes a lot of tea, but I like to think he memorises how everyone takes theirs. Regardless, he has to ask at least once.
And so, kind, sweet, gentle Martin, his offer of a cup of tea promptly accepted, would have the misfortune of saying, "do you take that with sugar?" to an embarrassed, flustered Jon, who's trying desperately not to confront any romantic feelings he might have hidden away. The ensuing scoff and slightly too enthusiastic 'No! Thank you.' would be enough to remember that preference for a while.
As times go on, hundreds of cups of tea later, things get less tense between the pair, and Martin never has to revisit the question; but late one night, shortly before Jon is to leave for Great Yarmouth and Martin is to risk it all to take down Elias, Jon places a hand gently on Martin's shoulder and asks "Could I have a cup of tea?". Of course Martin says yes, it's the least he could do, but as he turns to go and make it, Jon calls out again. "With sugar, please."
Just a tiny vulnerability, but enough. By that point most of Jon's facade has been torn roughly away many times, but letting go of small points of pride often means more than non-deliberate actions. Having enough bravery to admit to liking something soft and sweet is harder than you'd think.
Maybe during those six months after, Martin would watch the sugar dissolve into his own tea with a painful melancholy, the sweetness a bitter memory.
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