#I Don’t Wanna Let You Go

[turtleblogatlast]

Based on this post of mine, haha.

Leo finds The Last Unicorn. Core memories are made.

[fisherrprince]

Instead of writing a fanfic like a normal person this oneshot turned into two separate, contextless things,

[pearlsdiamondsandvodka]

the sandra lynn / fig conversation is driving me Insane. fig saying that sometimes she doesn’t wanna exist as herself at all…not wanting to ask her friends how they see her (because she’s afraid to hear their response) saying that to someone she is a monster and she Cannot stop thinking about it. sandra lynn starting the conversation saying she needs to step up but is also simultaneously taken aback about what fig expresses and doesn’t know how to responds to it and suggests getting ice cream. sandra lynn saying “convincing people they deserve good things is really tough” talking about herself but how it also reflects fig. insane!!

[burst-of-iridescent]

“the live action watered down katara’s character!” yeah and so did the comics and the legend of korra but i don’t remember seeing yall complain about that. or is it only bad when bryke aren’t the ones doing it?

[wren-was-here]

something something the “you don’t trust women as much as men” to “you never would have done that to hotch” pipeline…

[bizarre-paradox]

was gonna make a post abt usopp w an image attached but all the images i had saved were too cute so we gotta not do that or i’ll fold and not make the point i wanna make

i can see why people wouldn’t wanna do this because of the insane insane insane INSANE amount of hate he already gets from powerscaling types of people but i wish we as usopp fans would aknowledge the ways that he sucks, a little more. i understand wanting to adopt a ‘my precious baby boy who did nothing wrong’ attitude in the face of all the people who refuse to see even a sliver of good in his character but like….. he is flawed. i wish we could aknowledge that more in a like, normal way.

like, other characters right. like sanji. very common for people to call him a bastard and say they love him in the same sentence. makes sense, the ways in which sanji sucks are a lot lot lot lot more viscerally uncomfortable to deal with than the ways in which usopp sucks.

but a lot of usopp’s flaws are my flaws, so i guess that’s why it feels personal to me. he is so viscerally me and he is so complicated and he is so viscerally still loved by his crew and that’s really special to me. i’m not saying quit the ‘he did nothing wrong’ posts because they’re funny and fun and i get that, but it kinda reminds me of what people do with some female characters too where to combat the hate they just girlbossify the shit out of them and it can feel idk, like a slightly less interesting way to engage with a character who is flawed

TLDR: usopp kind of sucks!!! and i love him!!!!!!!!!!!

[dayas]

8 + elphaba & fiyero?

8 ⧽. giving them unabashed heart eyes when they do something cute and getting caught

AHHH MY FIRST FIYERABA PROMPT I AM SO EXCITED!!! I’ve been wanting to write for them since I got out of Wicked last week. Hopefully this is okay!

—

Fiyero Tigelaar isn’t exactly known for thinking. In fact, all he’s ever projected to his fellow students is that he doesn’t think, that he simply dances through life and refuses to invite further stresses and woes in with further consideration. And yet. He hasn’t been able to keep her out of his mind. Elphaba Thropp, the spirited, stunning witch he’d nearly trampled on accident in the forest. She’s the very reason he finds himself in the library of all places, a location he actively avoids. Books are mirrors just as much as they are windows into different worlds, and the last thing he wants to do is risk seeing himself reflected within the pages of some myth or legend.

She’s sitting at her favorite table, her head bent, her braids pulled back away from her face. Her finger traces a singular line a few times over before it moves on, winding itself around the ends of a few of her braids. She’s reading (no surprise there), but what catches his eye isn’t what she’s doing. It’s that she’s smiling. Fiyero doesn’t think he has ever seen Elphaba smile, not like the one she wears now. Something soft and secret, wholly hers, belonging to no one else. Unbeknownst to him, his own face mirrors her expression, a soft smile settled upon his lips. He watches her because he can’t help himself, because he’s still intrigued by her even when she’s silent.

“I can see you, you know.”

Elphaba’s eyes flicker up, catching his gaze and holding it hostage. Fiyero doesn’t flinch, only shrugs.

“I wasn’t certain you could. You’re missing your glasses today. I’m glad to know you’re so attuned to my presence, though.” Her eyes roll quickly, and that same fondness appears in his.

“Maybe in your dreams, Tigelaar.”

“So you dream about me, Thropp?”

She shakes her head, and he flashes a charming grin at her.

“What exactly happens in these dreams?”

“What do you want? You were staring rather intensely, so you must want something.”

Fiyero moves closer to her, settling a few steps away from where she is seated.

“Can’t a man admire beauty from afar?”

Elphaba frowns immediately.

“You don’t have to lie.”

He shocks himself by lowering his voice, the softness of his tone matched evenly by its authenticity.

“I’m not lying.”

Something flashes behind Elphaba’s eyes. He can’t tell what it is — she tears her gaze away from his before he is able to determine it.

When she speaks, it is barely audible.

“Why were you looking at me like that?”

Her eyes, so wide, a beautifully deep green, return to seek his out. The prince’s words are barely above a whisper, the blue of his own eyes holding hers steadily.

“You know why.”

Elphaba takes a sharp breath, biting down on her lip. She takes her book and stands abruptly, nearly running into him in her rush to leave.

“Elphaba — ” Fiyero says, confused, laying a gentle hand on her wrist to stop her. He’s thankful she does, and he uses his other hand to brush his fingers beneath her chin, turning her head so he can see her face. He’s shocked to find tears welling up in her eyes.

“You are a lot of things, Fiyero,” she whispers, her voice shaking, “but I never thought you were cruel. Not like this.”

“You don’t have to believe me.”

His own whisper is an impassioned blurt.

“You don’t have to believe me, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. That what I feel for you isn’t real.”

“It can’t be real.”

“It is.”

They are locked in a stalemate he never expected, but one he refuses to leave first. He feels it, when she begins to break down. He takes a step closer, cupping her cheek in his hand, his other holding hers.

“Tell me you don’t feel it too.”

He will leave her alone, he will, if she doesn’t. She’s close enough to him that their chests brush together with every breath they take.

“I can’t.”

The sound of heels clicking cuts through their moment.

“Meet me tonight,” Fiyero murmurs into her ear, “the woods. Eight o’clock.” Elphaba nods, and he takes off then, nearly crashing into Galinda as she puts herself in his path.

“There you are!” she chirps, as bright and bubbly as ever, “I’ve been looking everywhere for you, dearest.”

Fiyero lets her steer him away from the outside of the library and chatter on. He doesn’t hear a word she says; he’s too busy thinking of what will come when the sun sets and he can finally see the woman’s who’s forced him into thinking again.

[thirdeyeblue]

“Nine would have treated Martha better than Ten did”

I need to talk about this argument that never seems to stop circulating.

Note: Not a venomous/anti post. There’s more than enough of that across fandom spaces as is, and this is supposed to be a place for ✨sweet, blissful escapism✨

When making this argument, people seem to envision a scenario in which Nine never met Rose.

While I can appreciate a good hypothetical, recognizing Rose's significance to the Doctor (Nine and Ten) is essential to understanding why things with Martha played out the way they did in the first place.

In the third series, the Doctor is grieving. This grief is deliberately threaded into nearly every script, whether spoken aloud or not (and these are just a few examples):

He's burning in Rose’s wake the entire time Martha travels with him, which is why it’s so frequently called upon: It’s 100% deliberate in framing his grief. He grieved as Nine too, of course— having been fresh on the heels of the Time War — but then he met Rose, which changed everything.

Back then, he was still a rude, traumatized pain in the ass, but we watch Rose soften more of those jagged edges with every episode as they grow closer; as he lets his guard down and forms a deep connection with her.

He falls in love (against his better judgment) and it's game over.

And yes: provided S1E1 had been titled 'Martha', one can realistically assume things might have unfolded similarly to how they did with Rose. However, it wouldn’t have been that way just because the Doctor was Nine and “Nine was different” — it would be because he wasn’t already in love with someone else. The same can't be said for the start of S3.

Think of it like this: if Rose AND Martha had been in that cellar — if Nine had taken both of them along with him in S1 — we’d eventually be looking at the most melodramatic love triangle ever, what with him living in close quarters with two brilliant, gorgeous, compassionate young women... But Doctor Who is plenty “soap opera” as is with just one woman in the TARDIS.

(I certainly wouldn’t object to reading that fic, though)

Now, regarding the unrequited elephant in the room…

His inability to be romantic with Martha isn’t because he thinks her lesser, nor is it for lack of compatibility. It isn't because Rose is any better than her. It certainly isn’t just because he’s Ten.

It’s really only for one reason, which can't be denied — and now I’m a broken record:

He is still in love with Rose.

(cut from a tenrosedaily gif)

Nine is Ten, and Ten is only such a mess in S3 because he’s just lost the love of his life. Martha merely got caught in the crosshairs of a volatile Time Lord in mourning, and yes — it sucks. Absolutely.

But it also feels dismissive to chalk Ten and Martha’s relationship up to little more than some sort of mindless dance of pining, jealousy, and toxicity.

Ten trusted Martha with his life over and over again — and hers, with him. He constantly praised her brilliance, happily carting her around time and space with no intention of letting her go. In the BBC’s extended universe of novels/comics/cartoons/etc, there’s so much depth to their relationship: love and trust and trauma and sacrifice. They had their own special bond as mates, their own complexities — so it’s a bummer that it's forever overshadowed by the other things.

I’m not denying that there was a lot of stuff that sucked/was for sure toxic about Ten's S3 behavior, but so many of the things I've seen him catching flak for can be directly attributed to being A Clueless Fucking Alien Idiot (not a trait that’s unique to Ten) — as well as his flat-out obliviousness to Martha’s feelings.

So yes, I agree: if Rose never existed, he would have treated Martha differently as Nine. He also would have treated her differently as Ten. Certainly.

But Rose did exist, and when discussing canon, it matters.

“He tells me that he absolutely, 100% loves Rose... He tells me how my daughter; my wonderful, beautiful, clever little girl saved him from himself before… And he says that’s all because of me! I made her into the Rose Tyler that saved him.”

-Jackie Tyler, Flight Into Hull!

Martha got the short end of the stick in S3. She came round at the wrong place and time, but that doesn't mean it was all bad. It doesn't mean the Doctor didn’t adore her. It certainly doesn't mean the time they spent together was wasted or worthless. They were brilliant!

Sure, he could be a twat, but let it be known that he was a twat with Rose as well, both as Nine and Ten. I’m sure Tentoo can be plenty infuriating, too. So while I'll defend Ten (and Tentoo) into the ground forever and ever and ever, I'll concede that he's fucked up.

The Doctor is a certified Pain In The Ass. It’s one of the things I love so much about this character — dynamics.

But never forget that Martha was goddamn tough as nails and overcame every bit of it. She moved on with her life, and the Doctor moved on with his. One can only pray that, when they inevitably drag her back onto the show (which feels inevitable if I'm honest), we see at once that she's been living her best life for all these years.

[brambletakato]

I’ve been thinking about Descole’s butler Raymond a lot… Do you think he ever felt guilty for being unable to stop Descole’s descent towards destruction? If we go off of the theory that Raymond used to be a part of Targent, maybe he had accidentally enabled Descole to go on this path, and once he realized it, it was too late…

[flowercrowngods]

making a real post for @rvspecter pls bear with me

anyway harvey hurt fic where after mike is busted and given a second chance at life (or a third, really) and pearson specter litt seizes the chance to instate a pro bono department mike is heading because he wants to get it right this time and harvey will do just about anything to keep him, these two men finally mention this Thing between them and decide to give it a try. and it’s good. it’s fragile and it’s tentative and it’s gentle and it’s the same as it’s always been but with more tenderness, more honesty, more vulnerability (and more sex of course) and it’s good. against all odds, it’s so good.

but then one day, long after hours, donna approaches harvey in his office and her eyes are shining, but it’s not a glow harvey is used to — he never wants to get used to donna’s eyes filled with tears so he asks her what’s wrong, but he’s not ready for the answer. because she tells him she can’t work for him anymore. she tells him she’s leaving him — to work for louis at first, maybe to quit altogether. the fact do the matter is she can’t be the Donna to his Harvey anymore because she’s in love with him and she thought she had it under control but she doesn’t, okay, she doesn’t and it hurts and she wants to be happy for him and mike because they’re so good but all this time she’d never thought that harvey would ever find someone real, and now that he has, well. she can’t pretend anymore that it doesn’t tear her up inside and she doesn’t want to put that on any of them so she’s doing the mature thing and leaving. to heal. to get over him. to come back stronger.

and she’s so, so sorry.

they listen to gordon one last time, they toast to thirteen years one last time — her words, not his, but they drive a knife into his heart nonetheless because harvey doesn’t do one last-anything and yet here sits his best friend and asks for one last night together and who is he but to give her everything she wants and more. she’s his donna — still, tonight; one last night. she is.

he doesn’t tell mike that night. couldn’t, even if he wanted to; because he doesn’t have the words. but in the secure hold of mike’s arms, he says “donna won’t be working for me anymore, starting tomorrow.” and he doesn’t mention how that means that donna went to jessica and louis first, he doesn’t mention that he was the last to know, he doesn’t explain how he wasn’t given a chance to fix this — not this time. “donna quit?” mike asks, and harvey swallows, shakes his head, shrugs. “just me,” he says. “just me.” and when mike pulls him closer and holds him tighter and tells him “i’m so sorry, harvey,” it’s the first i’m sorry that night that he believes.

unfortunately, sorry never fixed anything.

especially when soon after, mike finds out just why donna left. and he gets all up in his head about it, he allows himself to spiral because he’s so ready to succumb to tunnel vision and obsessing over solutions to problems that aren’t his to fix. and so he tells harvey that he can’t be the thing that comes between him and donna. they’re soulmates after all, mike can’t bear to be the one to sever their bond. harvey doesn’t understand. he’s the one who’s supposed to lose his mind over having lost his best friend and pretend like everything is okay, what right does mike have to make that about himself, to take it upon himself to fix everything when harvey’s the fixer, harvey is the one who solves problems and protects people. but mike won’t hear any of that and tells harvey that he can’t do it like this if it means hurting donna because she’s his best friend, too, and he wants to get it right this time. he doesn’t want to build this new life on decisions that hurt his people — not again. he’s hurt enough people, he can’t keep doing it.

harvey wants to ask him why he’s always so ready to protect everyone at his expense. isn’t this thing between them, their relationship, isn’t it meant to stop them from hurting each other? why is it okay to hurt harvey, but not to hurt donna?

he doesn’t ask any of that, only tells him that they’re not in high school, and that they’re either doing this or not, but he refuses to base their relationship on whether or not his best friend is okay with seeing him happy or not. “you’re either in this with me, mike, or you’re out. that hasn’t changed, and it won’t, because donna will get over it and everything will be back to normal before you know it.”

“you don’t know that.”

“yes i do, because we’re grown-ups and we get over things.”

famous last words, it turns out, because mike just slowly shakes his head, agonising over this and not thinking, clearly not thinking when he says, “i’m sorry, harvey. i can’t to this; not like this.”

and all he can do is watch mike’s back as he all but runs from him, dragging his heart behind him, through the dirt, uncaring as bits and pieces of it chip off with every step mike takes, with every second that passes and allows the words i can’t and i’m sorry, harvey echo in the hollow of his chest.

we’re grown-ups. we get over things. well, tough fucking luck.

and this is how harvey loses the two most important people in his life in the matter of a week. before he knows it, he’s alone, left to fend for himself and hollowed out. his walls are broken down, deconstructed piece by piece by carefully, gentle hands to reveal what’s underneath — only for the hands to retreat, letting in the icy cold and accepting what’s inside to wither and die.

there’s a reason harvey specter makes his own luck; the universe isn’t very forthcoming otherwise. a fact that is proven when he finds a stranger outside his building when all he wants is to curl up and breathe through the cracks of his broken hearts that have pierced his lungs, they must have, surely they must have, because he can’t breathe. and he doesn’t learn how to breathe again when the woman — a kid, really, merely twenty-five — reveals that she’s his half sister. because it turns out the reason lily specter was so ready to up and leave all those years ago; the reason she didn’t fight for her family and instead blamed it all on harvey, was because she was pregnant. and she lied about it — for twenty-six years.

amelia selene specter is the little sister harvey has always wished for — but cancer is a curse that rests on the specter family, and while marcus got lucky twice, selene isn’t. she didn’t have the money for medical resources, and it’s eating harvey alive that he didn’t know, that there was no way for him to help her and that there’s no way now.

but there is. because selene has two kids, seven and four, and she needs his help because they can’t get lost in the system, they can’t live with total strangers or be separated because the system doesn’t actually care about children, they only care about not feeling guilty. and she won’t ask lily. these two angels must be kept from her at all costs because she ruined two families already, she won’t ruin this one.

and harvey is obsessed with the thought of more family, he needs to take care of and be there for someone and he’s ready to take on the world to protect his niece and nephew — but he’s not warm, he’s not available, he’s not even at home most of the time, nor is his place suitable for kids.

he agrees to take them in and find a solution though. he promises selene that he’ll be there for them. he’ll always be there. and when he gets to meet them — a few days before his sister dies way too young, way too alive for something like death to not rip him apart entirely — he gets attached instantly and vows to himself and to selene that nothing will happen to them as long as he’s there.

even though harvey just lost his family — the one he chose, the one he was born into, and the one he never got to meet. even though harvey’s entire world was deconstructed with no one around to put it back together. even though he doesn’t know how, because evidently he got it wrong every single time, harvey gets to build a new family with these kids. and though it tears him up inside, it heals something inside him too — and sometimes they balance each other out, and he can breathe again for just a little while as he reads to charlotte because she’s feisty and afraid of nightmares and not listening when he says she’ll be tired in the morning because “i’m tired in the morning anyway, but now i wanna read” and he trades her going to bed for a bedtime story, and she falls asleep with her face pressed into his side.

it’s so frail, though, so fragile, this little family, and he knows what it’s like when everything breaks. he knows what it’s like to lose one’s family — over and over and over again. and he’s terrified that he’s building himself back up the wrong way. he’s terrified because there’s no one keeping him together but both his hands are occupied holding these children that cry for their mama.

he’s terrified because he’s not supposed to be doing this alone. but everyone else has made their choice and he, as always, is just there to bear the consequences and try to turn it into a win.

one day, he will. he has to. and one day, he’s not alone anymore.

[chimerahyperfix]

You’re looking for something— no, someone, too, aren’t you?

(I can’t comprehend how you understand what’s going on, with your lifeless shell. Craft as you are.)

[krash-8]

hi

[links-gender]

About Time’s trauma

(Yeah we’re doing this)

So, I like to think that the Hero of Time does not remember the time he spent in the spirit realm. He spent seven years in solitary confinement… the least the goddesses could do was remove that burden from his consciousness.

Except they didn’t, completely.

Because when he sleeps, he doesn’t dream - he returns to that place, that endless, white void. Perhaps it’s a blip in the system, an aspect that the goddesses forgot to take into account. Maybe it’s intentional. He wouldn’t know.

Every day, he wakes up with no recollection of any of it. But whoever’s with him (read: Malon), can see him thrashing and clearly not having a good time while he is asleep. She asks about it, of course – several times, to no avail. Because he genuinely can’t answer her questions.

But he talks in his sleep, and Malon is able to piece together the little bits of information she gets.

Anyway there’s that and then there’s tHe mOoN

[m1d-45]

rain or shine

summary: you aren’t feeling the best, but luckily for you inazuma’s resident “fixer” is here to do away with your ailments

word count: 1.1k

-> warnings: mentions of nausea, reader doesn’t eat much due to said nausea, dw thoma has you covered though

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

you were having a bad day. plain and simple.

it started yesterday, when you had to stay up late to complete some last minute forms. the estate needed supplies a bit sooner than typical, but you didn’t mind the extra time it took. rain kept you company, a light sprinkle that quickly turned heavy, though thankfully with no lightning. it seemed the shogun was in a better mood today.

you woke up tired, with rolling nausea and a fierce headache. had you caught something? you hoped not, as you were planning on being productive today. a painkiller and a swig of water mostly did away with the headache, but the nausea refused to leave. you couldn’t even properly enjoy your breakfast, only getting through half of it before giving up. maybe you’d have it for lunch? that would save you some time and trouble later…

that was your first mistake. if anything, it only caused more trouble as the day stretched on. you went to the garden with a folder in hand, passing it off to a group of staff waiting by the gates. it was their list of things to pick up, and a lengthy one at that. the party was larger than typical to account for this, but when you were asked to join them, you couldn’t help but agree. they could use the help, right?

your second mistake. the trip was to bring back various supplies—silks, ingredients, toiletries and the like—from inazuma city back to the estate. it was a routine operation, one that you would normally be able to complete easily, except for the fact that it had rained the night before. mud stuck to your shoes, the unusually humid air clinging to your skin. your half-breakfast didn’t help, and your headache was beginning to return again. halfway through, when your crew took a break, you couldn’t stomach anything more than a few sips of water. by the time the final crate was carried back to the estate, you were far past lightheaded, breath coming in thin pants. a few of your fellow workers stopped to check on you—“hey, you should sit down” “what’s wrong?” “here, have some of my water”—but you waved all of them off. you were supposed to help, not worry them. you did have to promise to take a break before they’d let you leave, and though you were grateful for their concern, you did feel a little bitter.

all of this was your own fault, after all. why should you make them worried over something easily preventable?

you walked to your room with a hand on the wall for balance, blessedly not running into anyone. you weren’t sure how you’d explain yourself in you ran into lady ayaka- or worse, thoma. it wasn’t that you’d get in trouble, certainly not, but you were too ill for whatever food or drink they’d offer, and you didn’t feel like distracting either of them from their jobs. thoma especially so, since you knew he’d have a hard time focusing on his work if he saw you like this. it would normally be endearing, but today was everything but normal.

you pushed open the door to your room, pushing it closed behind you without stopping to lock it. the estate had the highest security in inazuma second only to the tenshukaku itself, and you honestly couldn’t be bothered. it’s not like staff were in the habit of snooping through each others rooms, and the extra effort was hardly worth it right now.

your sheets were blessedly cool as you fell onto your bed, barely putting in effort to arrange yourself on it. you’re… just taking a break. that’s all. just resting, and then you’ll get up and do all those things you were supposed to.

after all, it would be irresponsible of you not to, right?

you wake up to something cold dripping down your face, though your room was still dark. at least no one was here, then… but what was on your forehead?

you struggled to open your eyes, barely making out anything. you could tell someone had closed your door since no light was coming through, but who?

a gentle hand on your shoulder stopped you from getting up, the cold whatever—cloth, maybe?—on your forehead shifting as you did. “stay, you’re alright.”

you let your eyes close. you should have seen this coming, in truth.

“…thoma?”

“i’m right here.” his hand moved up and you could feel his gloves on your cheek as he wiped something away. “and don’t worry, all of my duties were finished while you’ve been asleep. i’m all yours.”

well, at least you weren’t disturbing him. small wins. “what are you doing here?”

“you have a fever,” he said simply. “you likely just caught a small bug and overworked yourself. don’t worry, it should be gone within a day or so.”

you’d been hoping you weren’t sick, that maybe it was the heat of the humidity making you feel ill. then again, you’d also hoped not to fall asleep, so…

thoma took the cloth from your head, and you hear small splashes and the trickle of water. “furata tells me you went out this morning with the other staff.” he places it back on your forehead, wiping away any droplets that spill before they reach your ears or eyes. it’s much cooler now, and you worry about how long he’s been sitting here. “she also says you looked quite tired before you left.”

“thoma-“

“i’m not upset.” as if to prove it, he takes one of your hands in his, squeezing once. “but i am worried. can you tell me why you went with them if you weren’t feeling well?”

“i just wanted to help.”

“i understand that, but you need to put yourself first, love. you can’t help others if you don’t first help yourself.” he removed the towel and put the back of his hand to your cheek, humming, then both were gone. “do you think you could eat something?”

you opened your eyes properly, taking stock of your body and room. he’d propped his vision on your nightstand as his source of light, and though it was small it still stung, your eyes slightly watering. but the rest had been good for you, and your head hurt a little less than it did before. “maybe.”

he smiled, lifting your hand to press a kiss to the back of it. “i can work with maybe. how does soup sound?”

“lovely.”

“perfect.” he lets go of your hand and moves it behind your back, the other hooking under your legs.

“thoma, you-“

“don’t have to, i know.” effortlessly, you’re lifted into the air, greeted with a kiss to your cheek. “but i like taking care of you. now, what kind of tea would you like with your meal?”

[askchilchuck]

Do you support Kamala?

No idea who that is.