#anyway this is just. stream of consciousness

[murdercide626]

Regarding Gerald in Sonic 3

(SPOILERS!!)

I've been thinking about how Gerald Robotnik was depicted in the third Sonic movie, and I have some observations.

I'm sure some fans have been comparing Gerald as shown in the film versus the games and taken note of not only how much sillier he is in the movie, but also how he's depicted as being considerably more villainous.

There are a couple things to consider though. In the games (especially since Shadow Generations) the majority of what we see of Gerald is from before the tragedy on the ARK and losing Maria, and we only get brief bits of him after he lost his sanity.

However in the movie it's the exact opposite situation. Almost everything we see of Gerald in the film is after Maria's death and he's clearly lost his sanity. Not only that, but because Gerald in the film never got executed, he spent many decades in a prison cell, stewing in his despair and rage, becoming more and more bitter and deranged while also extending his lifespan to an unnatural length by dosing himself with chaos energy from Shadow's quill.

But you might say, "Gerald in the movie only saw Shadow as a tool and didn't love him." While there's evidence of that being true in the present day, there's little to suggest that's the case in the very brief bit we see of Gerald in the flashback he's shown in before Maria's death. I personally think Gerald did have a fondness for Shadow before the tragedy, likely through observing Maria's close friendship with him. When Gerald retrieves Maria and Shadow to flea the facility he refers to them both collectively as "children", meaning he possibly had a similar fondness for both of them. I think that after Maria's death though, Gerald's slipping sanity, disillusionment with humanity, and obsession with avenging Maria's death, probably made him lose sight of the love he once had for Shadow.

And there is even evidence of the same thing happening in the games, with Gerald treating Shadow as little more than a tool for his posthumous plan for genocidal vengeance, which would have ended with Shadow's death too. Gerald even tampered with Shadow's memories of Maria to ensure he'd carry out his plans.

There's also evidence in the games of Gerald having an ego similar to Eggman's, shown by him modeling the ARK to resemble his face. Gerald even sheepishly confessed in his journal he was being self indulgent when designing the ARK. So it would seem in the games Gerald does possess at least some of the negative traits shared with his grandson, though he's self aware of these flaws and tries to suppress them. Gerald in the movie however is at a point where he's way past caring, since he's already decided to destroy the earth and everyone on it, so he's just letting his freak flag fly. lol

So if Gerald hadn't been executed in the games, who knows how he might have turned out. Gerald being executed was probably a mercy, really...

And it should also be noted that Sega themselves even considered resurrecting Gerald as a villainous character in the early production of Shadow's solo game.

That actually brings me to another thing I was thinking about while watching the movie. In Sonic 3, they repeatedly emphasize how similar Eggman and Gerald are in appearance, quirks, skills, and even wearing near identical outfits at the end. Sonic even collectively refers to them both as "Eggmen".

This stood out to me because it reminded me of the Rush games where Eggman teamed up with Eggman Nega, a character that was near identical to Eggman, but having a greying mustache and a darker, more twisted personality.

As I've mentioned in previous posts, I've had a theory that the scrapped plot point of resurrecting Gerald as a villain is what led to the creation of the Eggman Nega character. So seeing Gerald as depicted in the movie was like seeing it all come full circle. lol

But anyway, yeah, this has been another stream of consciousness rant from me. Maybe you got something out of this, or maybe not. Oh well. lol

And just to make myself clear, I am NOT trying to argue that Gerald is a bad person in the games (at least before Maria died). If what I said came across like that, then I'm sorry, but that was definitely not my intention.

[ang3lc]

a little depressed right now. my coping mechanism is to make people cry through writing. enjoy a blurb about pieceofshit!simon x reader

cw: emotional abuse, manipulation, cheating, stream of consciousness blurb, angst (duh)

You remember his birthday like it was yesterday, even though it feels like a lifetime ago. The way he kissed her—warm and familiar, pressing into her like you never existed. You weren’t even a thought in his mind, just a shadow in the background of a scene you had no place in.

It was a second of nothingness for him, but for you, it felt like a year of every mistake you’d ever made. It wasn’t me, you tell yourself, over and over, but it feels like a lie you can’t escape. It wasn’t me. You want to scream it, to tear yourself apart for not being enough for him.

But he’s a winner, right? Simon’s always been a winner. It doesn’t matter what happens, what he does, or how far he goes—he’ll always be the one that gets his way, always the one who walks away unscathed. You wonder, How much more can I give before there’s nothing left to take? You wonder if he’ll notice when you’re wrung dry.

Sometimes, he cries about feeling empty, about needing more, but not from you. Not in the way you needed him. Why is everything about you, Simon? Why does it always have to come back to you?

Even when it’s just the two of you, the silence between you louder than anything he’s ever said, it’s always about him. His anger. His confusion. His need for control. His coldness. His distance. You think you can fix it, but you can’t. You can’t fix him. You can’t fix yourself.

You watch him walk too close to the road, just like you always have. He walks on the edge like he’s daring you to stop him, daring you to save him from an inevitable fate. But you never stop him. You wonder if he even wants to be saved. You wonder if he’s just waiting for you to give up, waiting for you to walk away so he can be the one who lets go first. And God, how much longer can you stand here, loving someone who doesn’t want know how to love you back?

You feel sick when he touches you now. His hands, once so soft, now feel like needles in your skin, pulling at your soul until it’s raw. But you crave it anyway. You crave it because it’s all you have left. You don’t even know if he’s angry with you, if he’s disappointed in you, if you’ve pushed him too far. What did I ever do to make him so fucking angry?

Where’s your heart at, Simon, you want to scream, When your hands are all over me? But you’re scared to ask. Scared to hear the answer. What if it’s true? That he never cared? That you were just something to pass the time, something to fill the silence?

You feel cold, so cold, like he’s already gone and you’re still here, stuck in this room, stuck in this memory, wondering where it all went wrong.

You can’t stop thinking about how he made you believe. He made you believe you were enough. He made you believe that maybe, just maybe, you could fix him. But he was lying. Lying about who he was, who he wanted, and what he needed. He lied to you until you were empty, and now you’re left with nothing but the hollow ache of everything you thought you had with him.

You still hear them in your mind—whispers of promises he made, of the things he swore he’d do, the love he said he’d give you. He claimed his palms would hold a feast, but when he opened them, they held mere crumbs. You licked them clean anyway because you couldn't bite the hand that fed.

The truth is so fucking cruel, isn’t it? Is it something I did? Did I ruin it? You’ve asked yourself that question a thousand times, and you’re no closer to an answer.

Maybe you did. Maybe you didn’t. But in the end, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because you’re here and he’s gone.

And you’re still lapping at the crumbs he left on his way out the door. Starving.

mlist

[ihfmseatsoch]

Hiiii this is Jimmy rape anon again!!!! Your fic was so good and super duper cathartic sooooo X333 Waiter, more Jimmy torture please!!!!!

Can I please get a red room type situation where the reader streams snuff porn of Jimmy after he tries and fails in drugging and taking advantage of them? Or if snuff is too far for you, maybe just in general ruining of his life? Super sorry if this is too weird, I respect your boundaries and I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable!!!

-🥩

I ❤️ SNUFF 😁 smiles sweetly

genre: smut, dark fic

gender neutral reader, genitalia isn't described

word count: 2.2k

warnings/content: dead dove, attempted rape, actual rape, kidnapping, drugging, snuff, jimmy dies 🥳🎉

(>_< this is my first time writing smth like this #sorry if its dumb. bleh)

—

Nights like this were routine for Jimmy; go to a bar, chat up someone that looked the most deprived of their father's affection, roofie them, and take 'em home. Not like anyone would miss a dumb whore in the first place, so it's all guilt free.

Everything was going smoothly with you, although it was frustrating how you kept your hand protectively over your drink the entire time. You also don't seem particularly interested in his advances, so drugging you unconscious was the only course of action. Problem was, the opportunity never arose.

His impatience began to grow. He was not used to being denied what he wanted, and he started to feel irritated by your resistance. You were certainly a difficult target.

Losing interest, his focus diverted away from you, scoping out anyone else that looked drunk enough to make his goal an easy feat. He takes a sip of his drink, grimacing at how it tasted unusually bitter, the flavor lingering unpleasantly on his tongue. Jim dismissed it as a minor quirk. He's just imagining things, the bartender must've made it wrong.

Deep down, an uneasy feeling nagged at him, an inexplicable sense of foreboding settling in his mind.

He doesn't remember anything before everything went black.

When he regains consciousness, he can hear the muffled sound of someone speaking, and through his unfocused, bleary vision, he can see a blinding light pointing directly at him. It takes him a moment to completely get a grip on reality.

Jimmy can tell he's on the floor, but the texture underneath him is similar to... a tarp? He can recognize a camera stand only a couple feet away from him, once his dizziness alleviates.

"Oh, good. He's waking up." He hears an... oddly familiar voice coming from nearby.

Jimmy attempted to move, but all of his limbs felt sluggish and slow. He quickly realized his wrists and ankles were bound together with thick rope that dug painfully into his skin.

"What... the fuck?" Jim manages to groggily mumble, panic washing over him.

"Say hi... um, whatever your name is. I forgot. Probably unremarkable, anyway. I mean... who would care to learn the name of a pig bred for slaughter?" The figure in front of him snickers at their own sentence. A chilling sense of recognition dawns on him.

You.

"Fuck." Is the most fitting word he could utter between his teeth to describe the horror gripping his chest in this moment. "What...– What did you do to me, you psychotic, fucking–" Jim spat, his words still slightly slurred from the lingering effects of the drug.

"Language." You scold, reprimanding him like a child. "I've already heard every insult you could throw at me. Honestly, men like you need to get more original."

He notices a USB cord connecting the camera to a laptop, the screen displaying what looks to be... a live chat, and his body, sprawled pathetically on the ground.

He was being filmed, streamed to a live audience. If he was close enough to read the chat, he'd be met with thousands of people egging you on to make him suffer, using every method in the book.

"Everyone's been so eager to see me butcher another piece of meat. You should be flattered that I chose you. You're gonna be a star." Your tone is eerily giddy.

"Flattered" was most certainly not the word he would have chosen to describe this predicament. "What... What do you want from me?" Jim sounded weaker this time, the fear finally starting to seep into his voice.

"It's not what I want from you, silly. This is about what I can do to you." Your clarification isn't any less threatening. "You tried your hardest to hurt me first, and usually I commend perseverance. But... being so committed to assaulting an innocent person... that's not worthy of praise. Punishment sounds more like what you deserve."

This is not happening. This cannot be real.

"H– Hey, okay, listen. I made a mistake." Jimmy stammers, trying to come up with anything to stall for time. Anything to throw you off. Anything to keep him alive. "Just let me go, I won't breathe a word of this, I swear to god–"

"God? God won't save you. You're not worth it. I don't know how many victims you've gotten your greedy hands on, but even one is more than enough for the death penalty. In my humble opinion." Kneeling on the ground beside him, you grab his face, forcefully turning it to make eye contact with the camera. "You're a pretty boy. Shame you turned out this way."

"Please– Just let me go. I– I'll give you cash, I got money." He pleaded, struggling against the restraints around his limbs. "I'll give you everything. I'll do anything, j–just–" He swallowed, his words faltering under the weight of his desperation.

"Money?" You laugh, like it's the most hilarious thing you've ever heard, and it very well may be. "Aww, you're cute. But no, I don't want your hush money." You position yourself above him, groping his hips, feeling his body up as if you're inspecting an animal.

"Don't–" His body tensed the moment you made contact with him, and he tried desperately to jerk his body forward to get away from your touch, but, well... you can't exactly do much without hands or legs, can you? "–Dont f– fucking touch me!" Jimmy cried out in vain.

"What gives you the right to beg, when the people you've hurt couldn't?" You roll your eyes at his whining. Men like him are always such crybabies.

"Hmm... should we do a poll, chat? Duct tape over his mouth, or no?" You type away on your keyboard, speaking casually to your deranged audience like nothing about this is remotely insane.

His heart thrummed against his ribcage, a cold sweat causing his clothes to uncomfortably stick to his body. "Wait– No! No, you c–can't–! People will look for me, y–you can't j–just–" Every word he speaks ia now filled to the brim with panic and dread, lacking their usual sharpness.

"No one is coming to help you."

You respond plainly. And truthfully, you aren't wrong. Jimmy knows he only has one friend in this entire world, and zero family that ever gave a fuck about him. There's no doubt that Curly would indeed search for him, but the police are useless. He'd file a missing persons report and the case would go cold in a month.

"I've known guys like you my whole life. So which one is it; Daddy issues? Mommy issues? Both? Either way, your parents obviously didn't care enough about you to raise you right. So family is out of the question."

That last sentence got through to him, hitting too close to home. "Shut up," Jimmy's face contorts with anger, "You don't know anything about me, you–" He growled, a weak attempt to hide the shame he felt deep down. He hated how clearly you saw through him. He was truly alone, and it stung.

"I know enough," You reply, without even a hint of emotion. In fact, you were infuriatingly nonchalant. "It's always the same story. Mom and dad fucked you up, so now you're bitter and old, taking any chance you can get to make people feel the same misery you have inside you."

Jimmy winced when you so ruthlessly pointed out the truth he always tried so hard to deny. He wanted to fight back, but what could he say? He was at your complete mercy, literally. So he stayed quiet, his body trembling in your grasp.

You study something closely on your screen, something he can't see, which makes him all the more nervous. "Duct tape it is." You nod to yourself, grabbing the roll you conveniently placed beside you, like you were prepared for this. To silence him. You're not gentle with it, either. You wrap the tape carelessly around his head, the material sticking to his hair and mouth, secured tightly in place.

A muffled protest comes from behind the tape, but it's just as pitiful as his pleading earlier. Your fingers loop around the hem of his jeans, tugging them down roughly. It's honestly a bit more of a struggle than you'd hoped for, with his squirming, plus the rough material not going down smoothly without a fight.

"Don't you think it's stupid to fight back at this point?" You huff, wiping sweat from your forehead when you finally get his pants down to his mid-thigh. "Like, come on. This is the end for you, and you know it. At least you'll be entertaining to watch..."

Dread. That's all he can feel right now. Pure, nauseating dread. Jimmy feels like he's been punched in the gut, struggling to keep the contents of his stomach from rushing to his esophagus. His adams apple bobs as he swallows down the painful, choked up sensation in his throat. He doesn't want to cry. He can't give up his pride just yet.

Jimmy's stubbornness doesn't last long when you yank his underwear down, his soft dick laying limp on his stomach. You straddled his hips, grasping his shaft agonizingly tight, making him involuntarily let out a panic stricken whimper. No one has ever touched him like this, in a way that made his entire body feel violated. He could sit in the shower for the rest of his life, and never wash off the filth.

Jim attempts, once again, to plead for mercy, his brown eyes glazing over with fresh tears.

He's thankful he can't see your face anymore.

You can't make out what he's trying to say, but it's not like you're all too interested to find out, anyway. He feels you shift on top of him, reaching over to grab something off a nearby table. As soon as the cold, metallic barrel of your handgun presses against the pulse point on his neck, his body stiffens, his cries halting altogether.

"That's right. You just stay nice and still." You mutter, maintaining that same calm demeanor you've had since you brought him here, sealing his fate. You've done this before, it's obvious.

It's terrifying.

You keep the gun against his throat as you slip him inside of your hole, albeit with some struggle of course, because he's not hard in the slightest. Jimmy's chest heaves, and he's sure he could vomit at any second. Everything about this makes him feel sick. He's trembling so hard, lightheaded from hyperventilating.

He wishes he would just pass out so he didn't have to feel you use his dick like a toy. Every time you sink back down onto him, it makes him physically recoil, cringing with every muscle in his body. It feels so... wrong. Depraved in a way that's too monstrous, even for him. Which is hypocritial of him to think, honestly. He's put, what, dozens of people in this exact position?

His senses are completely overwhelmed, and he's unable to let out the buildup emotions in a way that isn't letting tears flow freely down his cheeks, out of the fear that if he makes a single noise or complaint, you'd kill him early and continue desecrating his corpse, whilst every single person witnessing his final moments cheers you on.

"At least I'm getting some use out of you," You pant above him, getting off on his sobs, and his palpable, unadulterated fear. "You can be proud knowing you actually made someone cum before you died. I doubt you ever have before."

His eyes anxiously follow the gun as you move it to press it against his forehead. "I wonder where I should shoot you," You hum, deep in genuine contemplation, "I think everyone would like to see your brain splattered all over the wall. Or, I could shoot you right in the heart," You prod the barrel against his chest, "And watch you panic when you feel it stop."

Jimmy wanted to ask you to make it quick. Honestly, he's relieved he'll die when this is over. At least he wont remember a single thing about his fucked up existence when he's unconscious and rotting wherever you throw his corpse. At least he wont remember how he felt in this moment. It's a little comforting to let his mind wander elsewhere, thinking of how blissfully numb he'll be when you end his life.

You could feel yourself nearing your orgasm, fueled by the adrenaline coursing through your body, and if you're being honest, his cock is big, even if it's flaccid inside you. What a shame that it'll go to waste soon. "None of this would be happening if you were a decent man. Isn't that funny?"

No, it isn't.

When you finally cum, he doesn't even have the strength left to be scared anymore. After years of longing for death, his prayers have been answered. It's not the most graceful way to go, but then again, he never expected his last moments to be peaceful.

You grip his hair, roughly twisting his head to look into the camera lense. Surprisingly, even to himself, he doesn't fight back.

"I don't know where you're going, but I hope it's worse than hell." You cock the gun, pressing the barrel to his temple.

The last thing he hears is a deafening gunshot that bursts his eardrum.

—

[actual-changeling]

i could, y'know.

i could go 'home' and i could lie to my mother and she would lie to me, and we'd play our roles like we always have. we do not talk about our childhoods. we do not talk about him. we do not talk about anything that matters. she doesn't ask me questions about my life anyway, she doesn't care.

i could go and perform and then go back to my flat and nothing will have changed. i really could, if i had to i'd be able to do it flawlessly.

but i don't want to. i won't be like her. i won't just sit in silence, not anymore. she won't understand a single thing i would have to tell her, and in the off chance she does, she'd immediately start guilt tripping me and oh, i am your poor poor mother, you had a great childhood you were always happy.

i know her routines, i had to.

i don't want to because i am so, so tired of it all, and opening pandora's box would only make things worse, but at least something would CHANGE.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

*tries to organize my thoughts*

*remembers i'm not in school and therefore beholden to neither heaven nor hell nor any man's grading system*

*joyously shredding & tossing all my carefully arranged 3x5 mental notecards into the air like so much beige confetti. raising my arms in victory, cheering raucously until i accidentally inhale bits of homemade confetti*

(*coughing up itty bits of paper like a cat evicting a hairball with a firm understanding of tenants' rights*) wait wat happens next

[madbard]

Thinking about how the Stan twins were both taught from a young age that life is a matter of transactions. How they were valued only for the money they could bring their family, and how this shaped their lives in such different ways.

Ford was the intelligent one, and this made him valuable. He knew what he had to offer. He knew he was important. (He had to be. Experience had shown him that love was conditional. He had to earn it. He had to be enough.) When Bill Cipher approached him, he confirmed everything Ford wanted so desperately to believe about himself. Imagine that sense of excitement, of accomplishment, of pride and power and relief. Imagine having that final, unshakeable source of external validation - that this being that knew everything and could have chosen anyone, chose you. Imagine knowing exactly what you could do to please this being and, with the understanding that love is conditional, knowing that you could fulfill the requirements for that love. Imagine knowing exactly how to ensure you would be loved, not just by that being but by the family you uplifted and the future you created. All you had to do was satisfy your own curiosity… all you had to do was build a portal. Is it any wonder that Ford fell for Bill’s tricks?

Then we have Stan, the failure. If love was transactional, he could never pay the fee. He knew people only helped you if you had something to offer. And he had nothing to offer, so why would anyone ever help him? Why would anyone care? Of course he didn’t fall for Bill. He couldn’t. When Bill promised gifts and power and happiness, how could Stan believe a word he said? In a world without altruism, such promises could never be trusted. There was always a price to be paid - and Stan had never been able to pay it.

And so the end of the world was triggered and then averted, all because one brother thought he could earn the world’s love, while the other knew he would never earn anything good.

A+ parenting, Filbrick. Truly.

[salsedinepicta]

There’s no harm in wanting something beautiful.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[jellicores]

duck duck goose - a quick, mostly-silent, minicomic

[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.

[logicpng]

it's been taking me forever to finish these to even this state and then Suddenly i just sketched the expressions and cleaned them up all in one evening

anyway hi i saw a meme and thought it would be good to give a writing test drive to my boys again (urs especially...)

[ original blanks here, image transcriptions in ALT text ]

[scream-mans-friend]

erasermic is so versatile. depending on how you interpret their relationship, erasermic can be fluffy, it can overcome all hurdles, it can be a new thing thats just bloomed, high school sweethearts, tripping over themselves pining, married with kids. it can also be two estranged friends finding each other again, it can be a codependent relationship born from tragedy, it can be seemingly unrequited, it can be something they both want but know they can never bridge, it can be bitter, it can be haunted, it can tear itself apart, and it can be filled with a loathing for the fact that they care for the others difficult ass. and most importantly they can be besties. and i think thats beautiful.

[utilitycaster]

sometimes you have a good and well thought out idea for a fic and sometimes you are just like this concept is best expressed as a series of ao3 tags for something you will probably never write

[sieglinde-freud]

oh im obsessed with this actually… who ever wrote this one i am kissing u on the forehead and hugging you real tight… inigo is such a loverboy im kkkhhhhhhijnsdnfng

[hanzajesthanza]

ida emean is the most mysterious witcher character to me. like she literally just showed up from the blue mountains (i thought the elves were starving up there last time we checked) (also last time we checked the elves which lived in the blue mountains wanted nothing to do with humans ever and that’s why they live in said mountains) (like filavandrel whom sapkowski said intentionally never showed up again after time of contempt because he was an old and wise elf that could not be fooled and was not persuaded by the nilfgaardianian bequeathing of land)

and she just shows up as francesca findabair’s plus one to the who run the world girls meeting. you know. which contains humans. and then her only thing is that she’s an elf. she showed up. and oh yeah she fucking slayed that shit so hard not wearing any stones or metals at all in her jewelry in a daffodil dress. and her red hair. of course. but her dialogue is basically just: “yep confirming that’s magic” and “you are being a bit racist don’tcha think”

but the thing that REALLY makes me throw my hands up here is that she’s an AEN SAEVHERNE ?? literally a title we know best from it also belonging to LARA DORREN and AVALLAC’H?? but she was just hanging out with francesca in dol blathanna like going over to her friend’s for tea, when it is said even among the elves it’s rare to known an aen saevherne. so what relationship do they have that… ? dunno.

and but of course, because she is an elf, she is aloof, taciturn, and inscrutable as all hell and so we learn practically nothing about her.

[mustfindcreativeusername]

(maybe scroll past if you love love bbc sherlock)

Me: honestly i fucking hate bbc sherlock by this point i mean yeah i loved the first two seasons loved loved loved them but then it haaad to get so complicated but still i could live with season 3 but wtf was s4??? And why did they have to... Do. That. Why make me hate even one John Watson i love my Watsons why did you make him a piece of shit in the last season, texting another woman to the point he considers it cheating is one thing i mean depends on the texts but that's forgivable it was just texting after all, anyway that's one thing but he blamed Sherlock so much for Mary's death when she!! She!! Jumped in front of the bullet to save him. It was her decision (why did she have to be a mega spy? Why did she have to surgery-shoot Sherlock. It wasn't as safe as she thought he literally died and came back and if the ambulance had come a couple minutes later he would 100% be dead wtf and he forgave her too) it was Mary's decision to sacrifice herself for Sherlock and he blamed him to the point where he basically internalises that Sherlock killed her. And i understand needing time alone or whatever but mrs hudson said he's sick, john, pls come see him and he was like yeah whatever sure if you insist ig.

Oh and . Yeah. He fucking. Beat. Him .Up??? Not punch him -haha funny- not hit him once, or even twice. No. He fucking beat him up. With punches and kicks and stuff. While he was looking at him like. Not quite believing. That his friend, "best friend" would do that to him. And yeah him being on drugs would have contributed but he ended up in the hospital?? After john beat him up. I didn't watch that episode in a while but i don't remember john being extremely remorseful or worried afterwards. He saw that cd from mary and only then he was like, "oh no my friend". Your friend. Your friend who would do literally anything for you. Your friend who a couple days later hugged you while you were crying. Did you even hug back? Did you ever apologize? I don't remember. He might've. But i dont remember it. And sherlock forgave him. Just like that. Worse even. I don't really think that he was that mad at him in the first place. Heartbroken, yes. Did you see his face? When john was beating him up? He wasn't even in his right mind, mega on drugs and stuff, and he'd just had a 'that is not the person i met' moment, tma fans wink wink, he was not well and you beat him up. You're a doctor too. Ha. Your best friend, the one who would do anything for you, die, kill, make himself sick to save your mental health or whatever was going on in that episode. In the following episode, days later really, he's made to choose to kill either his brother, HIS BROTHER, or John, and both Sherlock and Mycroft immediately, instinctively know that he's not gonna kill John. He loves him too much. I never really got it the first time around, the first time i watched. It's insane - Sherlock's devotion to John. He literally loves him above anything else, including himself. And I'm not a shipper. Oh i am usually a johnlock shipper but not them. I do still think they belong together but man oh man i hope john groveled. Why did they have to do that. Make us, make me hate john watson. I loved him. In the first two seasons, i really really loved him, he was my blorbo, well, the word blorbo didn't exist yet but he was. And i have a list somewhere titled 'heartbreakingly raw lines' and it's honestly mostly about the delivery of those lines and  "no, he's my friend, he's my friend, please" is right there, nr 1. Nr 2 is close, it's from good omens, bookshop fire, also about a friend, you get it, and after these two there's a biig big big gap before the third. Those two are supreme, nr 2 is so so so heartbreaking but it did not even compete with nr 1. To this day if i recall that scene, those lines, "let me come through please, no, he's my friend, he's my friend, please " i feel sick. My stomach is twisting right now, as i write. I loved john. I loved their relationship. Friendship, whatever, autocorrect asked me if thats what i wanna say. Why ruin his character? Just to be edgy? Why would you make him beat up his best friend, that!! friend. Oh and then, once they did make him do that,  just gloss over the fact. I'm not even saying make Sherlock be mad at him. That bitch loves him to the point it's almost pathetic. But there are other ways. How can you just gloss over that. He punched him several times, he kicked him while he was down. I'm sitting here thinking "what a piece of shit, punch a wall if you're that angry, i get being heartbroken about your wife, and feeling guilty, and overwhelmed, but that is no excuse". Why do i have to call any John Watson a piece of shit. Hell, why do i have to call this one a piece of shit, i fucking loved him. 

That's the one thing i do really really hate about that show. They did a lot of other stuff, all the characters were edgy-ified and made a little worse, as opposed to the ones from the books (lestrade is fine actually) but it doesn't upset me too much, i just see it as its own show instead of an adaptation adaptation and yeah, really not that upset. And i didn't really notice at first but there was queerbaiting wasn't it. I mean there were just a little too many jokes. I guess. I did see it when i rewatched it. Still. I never really saw them together, yk? Like yeah, together forever, but not as a couple. Needless to say i was very happy when like two years after i first watched it i learned about QPRs. Like yeah yeah that's what i meant. So it had a lot of flaws i guess but stuff you could get past, yk. And the first two seasons really were amazing, i wanted to snort them. But i am glad i was only vaguely familiar with the stories when i watched it, i think i would've liked it a lot less. I mean acd Sherlock Holmes is such a nice man, he's a sweetie honestly, he giggles and rubs his hands together when there's a clue, and yeah he's got some 'get to the point' moments but he's not an asshole. He monologues about flowers at some point. I love bbc Sherlock (the character) too, i really do, but he can be a bit of a prick. Intentionally, not bc he doesn't realise it. Did he just decide one day he was a sociopath and leaned into it or what. That high functioning sociopath thing was just him being dramatic, we're not actually supposed to believe he was, right? God i haven't thought- really thought - about this show in a while. And i can't believe i thought for so long we were getting a s5. After how s4 ended? That was a "soo they had many more adventures but this is where we part ways with them, byyeeee" ending. Did you know, tv time had it listed as "to be continued"/ a running show for so long after s4 ended. So so long. After like 4 years i made my peace and I'm pretty sure even then it was listed as running. I checked on it again some time ago, a year or two ago and it was finally listed as finished and i felt both disappointed and relieved. Like if your loved one has been missing for years and years and you finally find out they're dead. You kinda knew that but.. deep down... But still, you're relieved to know. Well maybe not exactly like that. Tv time isn't the ultimate authority, but. No, you know what it felt like? Passing a corpse every now and then and one day seeing that they've been layed to rest in a grave. And maybe it's for the best. S4 did so much damage, I'm not taking good, owie my heart, damage, i mean ruining John, and... making the dog a boy??? I'm not gonna talk about the whole Eurus thing bc i did like one aspect of it (horrible labirinth with really fucked up decisions to be made. I never saw any saw movies [lol. Saw saw] but that's what they're like right?) but yeah just make her an actual supernatural force at this point. The fuck. So maybe it's for the best. Not getting a s5. I've made my peace a long time ago and as i said, I'm starting to feel like i harbour some sort of hate for this show. Not the "i wish I'd never watched it" kind, not the "tf what did i ever see in it" kind either (s1 and 2 my loves) but it is a hate nonetheless. I'm glad I've moved on from it.

People on the internet: omg they're talking about making bbc Sherlock season 5!

Still me: omg omg no wayyy yess pleaseee maybe everything will be fixed and nice and cute yesss gimme gimme