#so personally i think his death. the even itself. had more to do with it than anything.

[starshipsofstarlord]

lap girl (8) | daryl dixon

summary. daryl is frustrated, forced to rest in his and y/n’s tent on the greene farm after not finding sophia and andrea shooting him. his partner is also feeling his frustrations, and so they relieve them together (2.4k)

warnings. smut 18+ mdni, protected sex, fingering, teasing, swearing, mention of having children and pregnancy (they don’t though, and is no pregnancy), mentions of death, petnames, established relationship, angst and fluff, 3rd person

MINORS DNI (18+), I DO NOT CONTROL YOUR CONSUMPTION ON THIS BLOG 👻

divider credits. @cafekitsune

Y/N was obscenely furious, she could easily beat the living shit out of Andrea for her impulsive need to prove herself and kill walkers. For a shot had broke through the air, scathing the side of her target’s head, and rather than a single undead, her aim had been poised upon Daryl. Albeit he had been covered in blood and dirt, and anyone would have been fooled into thinking he was one of the undead from afar, but if she had just left well enough alone as she had been advised to, he never would have endured an injury.

She sat in the tent she shared with Daryl that they had upholstered on the Greene’s farmland, her eyes scanning her partner with worry. Hershel said he was going to be okay, which was an immediate relief, but Y/N could not help but be berated by a wave of rage, though she kept quiet about it, choosing instead to sit on Daryl’s lap as he lay resting. He was awake, blue eyes barely open as the sunlight cast shadows from outside on the inner walls of the tent.

His side was staked with an ache from where his own arrow had inserted itself into his flesh, but he had demanded that his girl take a seat atop of him. The bowman played with the belt loops of her jeans as he gazed mindlessly up at her, she was careful not to move, knowing just an inch in the wrong direction could provoke his injury to feel even worse. Daryl was patched up, and he was supposed to be resting, but he appeared restless despite his hooded lids.

He gnawed at his own bottom lip, a crease formed between his brows which Y/N was tentative to notice. She brushed her gentle fingertips against it, understanding the frustration that her man felt. Daryl had went out to search for Sophia, Carol’s daughter, and whilst he had not returned empty handed and had found her doll that had been lost from her grasp, the young girl was still missing.

It rattled him, that none of the others had even wanted to seek the whereabouts of the child, considering anything could happen to her out there. Y/N had tried to follow him, wanting to mount the horse and try to help locate the lost girl, however he had refused, wishing for his lover to remain safe, and his turbulent tumble and scrap with walkers had only made him glad he had not allowed her to come with him. The others all judged him, but it didn’t matter, he had been the only one of them with moral enough to act on his concerns.

A part of him was relieved that he and Y/N had never had children of their own prior to the outbreak, for the same thing could have happened but instead to their offspring. The bowman tried his damn best to protect his partner, although she was able to take care of herself in most situations, knowing that they would have had to tread lighter and more carefully throughout the world to secure the survival and future of their son or daughter.

Sophia could be dead out there, and the more time in being unable to find her, the chances of her being deceased increased. “Stop overthinking honey.” Y/N knew that it wasn’t something that Daryl could control, his mind was wrapped up in doing the right thing under the circumstances that had been dealt. But voicing against the internal feud that made his brain loud would help, it always had. It drew him back to reality, forcing him to slink away from his solitary thought, as though she was trying to exorcise them from haunting him. It was all easier said than done, and they both knew it.

“Jus’ can’t help i’ sunshine. Need somethin’ ta distract me.” Distract him from the pain that throbbed along his temple. Distract him from whatever the hell had happened to his brother. Distract him from the overpowering discrimination that some of their group judged him for. He had not lived in the same way most of them had, he and his girl had scraped by to afford to pay their rent, even helping Merle out with his ‘business’ to be able to do so.

It had never been the perfect lifestyle, but they had each other and that was what had gotten them through it. And it would be the same situation amidst this futile outbreak that was certainly not ending any time soon, or ever. “Yeah?” A smirk quirked at the corner of Y/N’s mouth as her eyes locked onto the way Daryl frustratedly chewed his lip. “What kind of distraction?”

“Ya could always jus’ sit on mah face.” He was drawing her attention away from her prowess that thrived to punish Andrea for her idiocy; it wasn’t that she didn’t like the woman, but the blond did not respect her, so she did not return such fervour. Y/N quirked her brow, cocking her head at her partner, before she leant down, brushing her lips against Daryl’s own, toying with his present lust that was throbbing past his skull like that darn bullet had, her lap pressing harsher against his own, drawing a groan out from the injured man.

“Not with that head injury.” Another groan, this time one of disappointment, but Y/N wasn’t stupid, Daryl needed to heal, and having her thighs wrapped around the sides of his head would not aid in such a predicament he had literally been shot into. “Sorry honey, not gonna hurt you anymore than you already are.” Her hands brushed along the expanse of his flannel covered chest, her eyes drifting to the exposed muscles of his arms. They glistened with a slight sheen of sweat from the heat of being confined within the tent, the sun boiling the material from the outside and cooking their bodies in the mild summer temperature.

“Ya gonna do anythin’ woman?” Daryl scoffed, drained from the pain that throbbed in his left temple, and just as irritated by the untouched throbbing of his cock that rested in his pants. He was wound up from being stuck in the tent, he resented remaining still, especially since Sophia still continued to be lost. With each passing day, hope for finding her dwindled, and Daryl felt responsible that he had failed to uncover her whereabouts. His pupils caressed Y/N’s form, tracing the features of her face and that damned smirk that made his brain dwell profoundly on what her lips could do, until they reached the swell of her chest.

Y/N noticed where his eye-line had drifted to, her cocky smirk only widening upon his gaze, feeling as though she was successful to cease the running of his mind. “Dunno.” Y/N drawled out, amused by the frustration that swindled normally calm demeanour with her. She couldn’t blame him, he had been practically through hell and back, and he was unable to proceed with normal habits of his, such as hunting and keeping a watchful eye out for walkers. “Don’ know if you deserve it…” Daryl’s eyes held a loving spite in them as he bit back, attempting to prompt her into doing something.

If he was forced to remain in the damning tent, then he wanted something out of it, preferably a seance of gratification, though of course he wouldn’t force her, even if it seemed as though she too was walking on the edge of arousal. “I jus’ took a bullet an’ an arrow woman, pretty fuckin’ sure I do.” Daryl retorted, causing a breathy laugh to flail from his lover who thrived off of his desperation to fuck her. “The least ya can do is jus’ slip it in.” This made Y/N laugh harder, and as Daryl had always known, he would never get tired of that sound.

“Wellll…” Y/N speculated the possibility, reaching into the pocket of her pants to pull out a packet that she had stolen from Glenn’s own personal stash, “ya won’t have to pull out this time.” The condom, although Daryl preferred feeling all of her, being inside her with no barrier between, brought him a comfort. There’d be a lesser threat of knocking her up, and they would not be under the same circumstance that had newly revealed itself to Lori. Daryl prized it from her hands, not letting go as he pulled her hand to him, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

Others would never speculate the often brooding archer as a romantic, and whilst he wasn’t in the common sense, he did love his girl and had his own way of showing it. Merle had often laughed at how easily his brother would become putty in Y/N’s hands, “pussy whipped’ as he would often referred to him as, but Daryl knew that was not the only reason why he was so contorted into adoration for the woman atop of him. She was a strong character, she never took any shit from anyone including him, and that was exactly what he needed. “Tha’s good.” Daryl murmured, knowing that he would feel immense guilt if he made her vulnerably carry another life in the way the world was now.

Y/N hummed in agreement, leaning down to kiss his lips, there was a hunger within the contact though it was not rushed, it was slow, as though they were feeding from each other’s souls. His free hand that did not hold the condom reached down to caress her ass through the denim, squeezing her flesh to cause her to breathe out a gasp into him, and he swallowed it down as if he were dying of thirst. “You feelin’ well enough to do this?” Her eyes drifted to the bandage over his wound, concerned that it would dissolve the little inkling of energy that he had slowly rebuilt.

“Course I am.” Daryl instantly answered, needing to do something other than just lay down, and that just so happened to be doing his girl. “Ya wanna take these off?” His fingertips traced around the seem of her trousers, and he groaned as she moved herself from atop of him, swiftly discarding both the layers that concealed her legs and flesh, leaving her bottom half bare. Y/N climbed back atop of him, running her hands down his throat until they rested on his chest over his heart, and Daryl smiled up at her, as though she was a goddess blessed upon him. “Tha’s your, ya know tha’ right?” He said in referral to his heart as it beat under her palm.

“I’ve known it for a long time honey.” Y/N gasped as his fingers traced her slit, feeling the rough pads of his them move through the arousal that had already accumulated on her sex. He watched her with dreary eyes, smitten above all else, still shocked that he was a lucky enough man to be with such a beautiful person. As he touched her, her body leant backwards from where she was seated on him, and she looked visceral, like a damned angel within the world of chaos. “Daryl.” She sharply moaned his name as he slid a digit within her, filling her knuckle deep.

He thrusted his finger nice and slow until he let another join it, his thumb reaching up to roll circles around her clit. “Fuuuck.” He loved it when she cursed, whenever she opened her mouth it was so contradictory to her beauty, though he always fell for her words as though they were a spell. Daryl kept moving his fingers until he was sure she was wet enough to take his length, and as he retracted them, he placed them in his own mouth, tasting them. “Really?” She giggled out as she undid his jeans and released his cock from its confining chamber of material.

“Wha’? Ya wouldn’t sit on ma face, it’s the next best thing.” Daryl allowed her to take the condom from him, ripping open the packet as she rolled it down on his flesh. He was hard and sensitive to her touch, and all of his pain and strife was forgotten as she sank down on him, taking him to the hilt. There was no medicine better than her touch, and whilst it was newly recognised, he was lulled into comfort from feeling her tight walls snuggly wrapped around him. “Shit.” A puff of air left his mouth as his hands wandered around her frame, his dwelling frustration dwindling in the simple act.

Y/N’s hand rested atop of his heart again, feeling it thump in a familiar beat, as she lifted herself, only to grind herself down on him, only to repeat her actions. Daryl moaned, sometimes her name, sometimes swears; they brought each other such pleasure that nothing or nobody else could compete with. It was as though they were soulmates, and whilst neither of them believed in that kind of thing, they felt the connection like a red string that entangled their fates. It was never just sex, even when they had to quickly bring each other to a release, there was always love between them.

“Y/N.” He said her name, as he felt his body rush with swindles of sparks - he was getting close, and so Y/N moved faster, chasing not only her own orgasm but his as well. They plummeted in a river of ecstasy together, Daryl filling up the condom with his liquid bliss. Y/N lifted herself a couple more times until she stayed still, riding them through their highs, Daryl’s hands gravitating to her thighs as he drew small circles upon her flesh with his fingers. “Ya okay sunshine?” She’d moulded him into a soft version of his person, and there was no greater comfort than that.

“Always am when I’m with you.” She pulled his cock out from her, discarding the condom in a corner as he tiresomely tucked his cock back into jeans, dressing her lower half in just her panties before she came to rest upon him, careful of his injured side. He closed his eyes, feeling not only well rested but spoilt with the love that his girl had for him. Y/N never made him feel like a failure even if sometimes he considered himself such, she always brightened his peripheral, even in these dark times that shrouded them with the consistent requirement of having to survive.

[k0mmari]

I can answer some of these questions now!

how did SY and LQG meet? LQG had been on his way to pick up 2 year old LMY from their family state after their parents' death, and he was so griefstricken that he didn't notice he was flying too low and crash into a forest, where he just lay dazed. Shen Yuan, already amnesiac, found LQG and started treating his wounds, but as they were making their way back to the village SY was staying at, they got hit with a monster/aphrosdiact that hightens feelings of free, so that people will retreat to a more "primative(?)" "instinctual(?)" mentality to avoid the pain and yeah, SY has some vague recollections of the ordeal but LQG remembers NOTHING.

why is SY amnesiac? A bug in the system, SY was reincarnated and had vague recollections of his previous life where he read PIDW but none of it was very clear. he went through the Qiu Manor alongside SJ and both got pretty jaded personalities before they got separated during their time with WYZ (i think the old man tried to kill him but memory is foggy). A couple of years later, the system tried to reboot itself to make SY a host just like SQH while SY was in some mountains for cultivation, and this happened at the same time Shen Yuan was in the middle of a breakthrough. The system's attempt to reawake SY's previous memory ended up with him losing ALL of them and when he left the mountain, confused and injured, a small village took him in, the same where SY lived when LQG crashed.

how the hell did he get pregnant AGAIN? Funny, actually, I'm still having trouble outlining that part, but basically, because SY's daughter with LQG is, well, a copy of her dad, which means she is like LMY, which means men can't help but be creeps, SY gave his daughter a veil and went on a journey to a sect that would take in him daughter so she could learn to defend herself. he remembers very vague technics of cultivation, since he has a golden core but no clear of memory of how he got it, so he doesn't want to accidently give his daughter a wrong lesson. Surely a good sect will take her in! They end up travelling half the country because the sects either aren't interested in her because she's poor or an interested in her in a way SY rather not. when they are in the HHP territory, he comes across ZZL, absently mindly mentions something that helps TLJ escape since he think ZZL is a regular weird creature, and as he is on the road again with his daughter for *another* sect, they are followed for a while by ZZL and TLJ, the latter wanting to somehow repay for the debt, or idk. I do know that at some point while ZZL is babysitting the girl, TLJ and SY, surprise surprise, get aphrosidiac, they go their separate ways once SY is again near cultivation sects, and even thought SY *did* take something to avoid pregnancy again, it didn't work and he went "*sigh*, guess i am having another kid, *cries himself to sleep that night*"

is binghe's brain going to explode? Nope, because LBH will actually be in another peak and he will get his own love interest! a boy and a girl, thought i am pretty sure i am confusion their characters with ANOTHER two love interests i have for him for another fic. They are OCs. And thought LBH won't fall romantically in love with SY in this fic, he WILL a kind of need for comfort and affection from him, specially when he sees SY being all sweet with his daughter and LBH's sister

Prev

Anon your mind

[lilliryth]

I have such a hard time interacting with Stobotnik content post- movie 3 because of how most of it seems to be interested in Stone angst; like I get how it can be super fulfilling for people into that sort of thing, but the closest angst I can handle when it comes to them is a temporary heartbreak whilst Stone is semi-convinced but not entirely of Ivo’s death, meanwhile Ivo is stranded and pining yet again, but they are inevitably going to find one another. I don’t know how to stay only in the one circle and not the other, though. I know that canon is whatever you want it to be once a piece of media ends on an open note, but it still feels Too Real whenever I’m looking at art of Stone grieving alone instead of a bittersweet vibe of redemption and searching.

Plus, Villain!Stone can happen a million more ways than one! It doesn’t have to be grief, it can just be him finally taking charge of Schemes™ during Ivo’s absence, so that once he comes back he kinda has to reckon with Stone strictly as an equal instead of a subordinate he can boss around. I also think ngl it’s a little more in-character?? Stone doesn’t go mad with loss at the end of the third movie, he more or less sees the point in Ivo’s sacrifice and is both heartbroken and full of love for the man who saved his (and every person on the planet’s) life.

Anyhow—with the movie itself there are definitely a couple aspects I could do without, just minor details, specifically how the narrative handles Ivo’s changing appearance (not just how he’s introduced in a manner that kind of puts him under a magnifying glass, but also the way they had Stone’s latte art centered around movie 1 Ivo which. okay but then it’s backhanded and Stone wouldn’t do that), so I’m not gonna pray to whatever’s portrayed onscreen as the one and only truth, esp when the ending clearly shows Shadow surviving and is only ambiguous about Ivo for Jim Carrey’s sake. To me a work of art isn’t just the text but the implication and intent behind it.

Bottom line I want them to be happy together, because to me StH for all its potential to have adult themes is still an escapist thing for me. Specifically with Ivo and Stone, the chance to have kid whimsy and play even when you’re grown. That’s what their relationship feels like, and it’s precious to me.

[a-universe-needing-rest]

I think 9-1-1 really messed up with the back half of this season (and by that I mean the last like 4-5 episodes). This season had so many things going for it in terms of character arcs, and potential future storylines, and they disregarded pretty much all of it.

Before lab rats they had set up almost all of the characters with something for the season, and after they just dropped all of them??? For example Eddie’s whole choosing joy thing, and learning how to stand up for himself and what he wants, totally lost in the last few episodes because he learned that what he had chosen to do to get his son back and repair that relationship was wrong. Which like yeah Eddie really should have moved them back sooner and he belongs at the 118 with his family, but he should have realized that for himself, with some input from Chris, so we really get to see how their relationship has healed and how choosing joy helps that. But we got none of that.

Also we get barely anything from Maddie or Hen in the back half even though Maddie was set up to be worried about her pregnancy and how her most recent NDE affected her. And with Hen, they did such a poor job in showing us anything about her grief over Bobby, and the only real character moment we got from her was her turning down Captain, something that has been set up for her for a long time. Don’t get me wrong I think Chimney has grown a lot since the last time we saw him as captain and I think he would be great as Captain now especially after the last episode, but to basically take the position from Hen, when that is where all the signs have been pointing for so long kind of sucks.

As for Ravi, while I am so glad he is finally a main it feels like they didn’t give him anything this last bit. The climax of his arc was obviously him going to commit treason for the 118, which I was ecstatic about cause he is so apart of the family, but after Bobby died we didn’t see any of him mourning, or really bonding with the rest of them to cement that bond, even though we know he is truly part of the family of the 118 mains. I just wish we had gotten more time with him outside of the emergencies.

Don’t even get me started on Buck. Buck is my favorite and it just feels like we were strung along this season in terms of anything to do with Buck and his relationships, especially concerning his bisexuality.

Next Athena. I love Athena and I hate how much hurt she has gone through, especially considering this is the third time we have seen her grieve a relationship, and her future with that person. There was no need to put her through that again. We’ve seen her figure out a new future with Bobby after Michael came out, and we’ve seen her grieve over Emmett, the loss of their future together, and the loss of their past. Obviously with each of these she grieved differently and each of her relationships here were different, but with the way this show works they don’t show that very well, so they are comparable because they don’t show all of the complexities when it comes to her relationship and how she grieved differently. It just feel’s reused. Not to say that Angela Bassett didn’t do an amazing job with her performance because she did, but the show itself was the problem here.

There are so many things I can say about Chimney here. I do like how in the last episodes they gave him the arc that will make him captain, even though as I stated previously, I think it should have gone to Hen, because I do think he has changed and grown since the last time we saw him as captain, and I do think he will be good for that. However, I still think they really botched him after Bobby’s death. Especially considering both he and Maddie had NDEs this season. That could have created such a good partnering arc to her about how they feel about that. That could have been something serious for them to consider, about their futures, and just an amazing point to see more of their relationship. I don’t really remember if they gave him a clearer arc earlier in the series that they just gave up on otherwise I would touch on that as well.

Now for Bobby. I hate that they killed him off, especially in a way where he sacrificed himself. They took a character who was suicidal for a long time, who was finally able to be ready to live and live happily and they killed him in a self-sacrificing manner. I cannot repeat this enough. It feels like such a slap in the face to both the character and to anyone who related to his character in this way. I’m so upset about it. I probably would have been upset no matter how he died, but this is bullshit. He was finally ready to live and be happy with his family that he built, and they took that away. There are other ways they could have changed to show go let him live while still moving some else into the spot of captain, because I agree l that I think the show did need a change in that way, because they arcs and the way the show has progressed was calling for it, but I think there were better ways. I know it would have been out of character for Bobby to step down, or to retire without something huge happening, but I think maybe if they had just made so he had no choice, like an extreme injury(I know what show I’m talking about here but still), or something, where he could still be there for his family, and be happy, and grow old with Athena would have been better instead of killing him off. Also his entire send off felt extremely rushed, disappointing, and disrespectful to both the character and the actor.

Didn't really touch on any of the side characters here, but I get why we didn't really see many in the back half cause there was so much going on, but I missed some of them, and would have loved to see more of them, and also show how they were effected by Bobby's death.

As for the fans, I think it was an entirely disrespectful end to this season. Breaking promises that have been made in the past about killing off mains, hyping up things they definitely did not happen this season to increase engagement, queerbaiting(because yes they did fucking queerbait with Buck and Eddie, and they know they did, having a full episode about how Buck feels about Eddie, putting them in Buzzfeed together, and literally calling them Buddie in tweets and promotional things). I can’t speak for everyone but I can say for damn sure that this has broken my trust in 9-1-1 forever. There is literally nothing they can do to regain my trust. I'm pissed as hell. At this point I don't think I will be watching season 9. There are a few things that might change my mind if I happen to see them when it comes out, however this will not be the same as regaining my trust. Honestly, if I do go back and they do pull more of the bullshit we saw this season, I will not be continuing the show at all, which is a shame considering this show has so much potential (that is unfortunately so often wasted).

[lloydfrontera]

related to that last post that's kinda why i think cpsm revealing that javier had died three years earlier than lloyd is poignant in a very understated way.

javier's original fate was to live when everyone he cared about didn't. he was meant to be the protagonist of that world, to face all kind of threats and survive all of them, but with no one at his side.

he's the narrative's favorite but the narrative's love is not gentle and it is not kind and it will hold you close until you suffocate under its themes and parallels. for the world would bend itself for javier to be at it's center but it would not allow him the comfort of sharing that spot with anyone else.

he was always meant to be the last one standing. fate won't kill him but it won't allow him to die either.

and then comes lloyd with his plot breaking meddling saving everyone around them and shoving his way into the protagonist role, sharing the burden javier wasn't even aware he was carrying. and fate tries so hard to correct itself, it tries by all means possible to put things back the way they were meant to be, but in the end the best it can do is to try and make it so there will only be one main character in the world. the way it was always meant to be.

it concedes. it won't take away everything from its favorite anymore. but it won't stand for there to be two of them.

and the thing is. it wins. it gets what it wants. in the end javier can't save lloyd, he can't take his place, he can't keep him alive, he has to stand and watch him sacrifice himself for everyone else. for javier himself. in the end when the battle is over javier is again the last one standing.

when lloyd comes back and the fate restoration doesn't start up all over again, he thinks it's because lloyd frontera's original body disappeared and he came back in his own body. i don't think it was that. i think the reason fate didn't try to restore itself again is because it had already achieved what it wanted.

the narrative won. not completely. not the way it was originally meant to. but in the end javier ended up as the lone protagonist who watched his loved one die before his eyes.

only then was it satisfied and allowed javier to leave its grasp. only then was he allowed to become a person and not just the main character.

a person who could spend a lifetime with all of his loved ones and when the time came, die peacefully in his sleep, knowing at least the person he came to care the most about will outlive him. at least this time, he won't be the one left behind.

[solxamber]

Ultimate Betrayal || Leona Kingscholar

You don’t remember how to breathe.

The walls are closing in, the air is thick, suffocating—choking you with the weight of a betrayal so profound that your very soul threatens to collapse in on itself. Your knees give out before you even register the sensation, hitting the floor with a dull, hollow sound that echoes through the emptiness of your chest.

This can’t be happening.

Not him.

Not Leona.

Your vision blurs. Whether from unshed tears or the sheer magnitude of the heartbreak sinking its jagged claws into your ribs, you don’t know. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters anymore. Not when the one person you trusted—trusted beyond reason, beyond instinct, beyond every shred of caution that should have warned you—has done this to you.

It was foolish. You should have known better. Leona Kingscholar was never a kind man. He was sharp edges and lazy smirks, a beast masquerading as something tame, something safe. He had warned you time and time again—mocking words, teasing glances, a sardonic lilt in his voice that should have set off alarms instead of making your heart stutter.

“I ain't the type to play fair.”

You had laughed then, brushing it off as yet another of his games.

But this—

This was no game.

This was ruin.

The floor beneath you tilts, the world spinning out of control as a chasm yawns wide in your chest, swallowing you whole. You don’t know how to rebuild from this. How to take the shattered remnants of your trust and piece them back together when the hands that broke them are the same ones that once held you steady.

He knew. He had to have known.

And yet he did it anyway.

You don’t even flinch when you hear him approach, his steps slow, deliberate, not a trace of remorse in his gait. You can feel his presence settle beside you, the warmth of him a cruel mockery of everything you once thought you had.

“You’re bein’ dramatic,” he drawls, a smirk in his voice.

Dramatic.

You turn to him slowly, the weight of your devastation pressing down on your shoulders like a death sentence. He doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. No hesitation, no regret—just that lazy, infuriating amusement that only twists the knife deeper.

“Leona,” your voice is barely a whisper, cracked and raw. “How could you?”

He stretches, completely unbothered. “Didn’t think you’d mind that much.”

Didn’t think—

You inhale sharply, your lungs burning with the effort. It takes everything in you not to break completely, not to crumple beneath the weight of what he’s stolen from you.

Your faith.

Your trust.

Your very will to go on.

“I was saving that,” you rasp, voice hollow, empty—an echo of everything you once were before this moment, before the fall, before him.

He quirks a brow, unrepentant. “Tasted good.”

And that’s it. The final blow. The killing strike.

You had loved him once. Perhaps you still do. But love cannot survive in the wake of devastation, in the ruins of something that was never meant to be broken. He has made his choice, and now you must make yours.

With a shaking breath, you rise to your feet, the cold settling deep in your bones.

You don’t look at him as you turn away, voice quiet but heavy with the weight of all that has been lost.

“I hope it was worth it.”

And with that, you leave him behind—leave behind the man who had so carelessly stolen your heart and, more importantly, your sandwich.

Happy April Fools!

[pathologicalreid]

litmus test | s.r.

in which Spencer needs your expertise to help solve a murder, but crime fighting is most decidedly not for you

find more chemist!reader here!

who? spencer reid x chemist!reader category: flangst (like. the end is a little angsty and it has case details) content warnings: typical cm violence, science talk, fem!reader, reader is not built for crime, morgan being an older brother, some fun banter!! death by firework is crazy lmao word count: 1.68k a/n: this is one of my favorite fluff pieces i've written in agessss i missed chemist!reader so much i learn so many things when i'm writing her. this was a request! i hope you like it as much as i do!!

“Do you have a second?” Spencer asks, his voice slightly choppy over the phone. Between his ancient phone and being inside concrete police precincts, some disconnect was bound to happen.

Saving your document to your computer, you rest the lab phone between your shoulder and ear, “If you’re asking me if I have any corrosive chemicals in my hands, the answer is no.”

He chuckles lightly, “I never know with you.”

You roll your eyes in response, even if he can’t see you, “It was one time and I needed a new phone case anyway.”

“You fused the plastic of your phone case to the material of your phone,” he retorts far too quickly for your liking.

“Yes,” you acquiesce, “but I know the exact chemical reaction that caused that phenomenon.” You cross your legs one over the other, maintaining your balance on your lab stool as you speak to Spencer over the phone.

He gave a light hum in response, “Speaking of chemical reactions – I need your help.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise, “You’re asking me for help in chemistry?” There really was a first time for everything, you suppose.

Spencer was more than capable of navigating a lab on his own, even so, he admits, “You have more applied practice than I do.”

Pursing your lips, you nod to yourself, “Fair enough. What’s stumping you, Dr. Reid?” Your inquiry, while innocent enough, garners a wolf whistle from your graduate assistant.

“There’s something burning a hole in these bones, and I’m not sure what would be causing it to happen this fast,” he explains, giving you minor background information on how long the bones were out and if the medical examiner had treated them with something.

You clear your throat, frowning at the notes you had scrawled down in front of you, “Burning or corroding?” What was seemingly a meaningless distinction would actually allow you to filter through approximately half of the possibilities.

“Corroding,” he corrects himself, “My mistake.”

Crossing off some of your notes, you purse your lips at the new possibilities, “No worries. Did you try flushing it out with water?”

You hear papers flipping on his end of the call before you get a response, “That would destroy evidence.”

“Well,” you raise your eyebrows, “It sounds like your evidence is destroying itself.”

“Baby,” Spencer says in a no-nonsense tone reserved for when he was deep in a case. You could’ve sworn you heard Morgan in the background of the call mocking him for the pet name.

Turning back to your notes, you sigh, “Yeah, yeah, all work and no play. Was the body buried?”

“Partially,” his reply intrigues you, “I can have Garcia send you the crime scene photos if you think it’ll help.”

Wrinkling your nose at the thought, you made an unsure sound, “Right, because nothing says lunchtime like getting up close and personal with a homicide victim.”

“What lunchtime? It’s three pm in D.C. right now,” he caught you, a slight chiding tone in his words.

Ignoring his questions, you ask more of your own, “Was the body near water? Did they test the pH of the soil and water?”

There were more papers flipping, likely someone presenting the results of those tests to him, “Yeah, the soil was a five-point two and the water was a seven-point eight,” he listed off for you.

While your knowledge of the pH of the soil in Iowa was limited, you did know that those levels were pretty on par for the northern Mississippi River. “O-kay,” you say, extending your vowels, “and they didn’t find anything else on the scene that points to corrosive materials. Hydrofluoric acid?” You posit, “No, you know what – maybe you should send me those files. My work email is encrypted, you can give it to Penelope.”

He speaks to someone else in the room with him and you resist the urge to ask him if he’s enjoying Iowa, “It’s sent,” he confirms with you.

Pulling up your email only takes a moment, and once you get over the initial shock of seeing a dead body on your computer screen, you lift your lab glasses to the top of your head in order to get a better look. “I mean,” you think for a moment, “those look like alkali burns to me. I’ve never seen them on bones before, but you should do a litmus test to check either way.”

“So, we rinse it with water?” He asks, seeking instruction from you in a way that makes you feel oddly powerful.

Your eyes widen, “No, no, no. If it’s a metal compound then it’ll be covered in a mineral oil, so rinsing it with water would actually make the burn worse.”

Pausing for a moment, you consider the possibility that Spencer didn’t have the luxury of time – he was trying to solve a murder, not do experiments in a lab.

“Alkali burns can be serious, it all depends on what caused them, and most are helped by rinsing with water. So, unless you have the time to test for metal compounds, I’d go ahead and rinse it. You might want to brush the damage to the bones with a dry brush first. If there’s lime on the bones it’ll foam, which not only will corrode the bones even further but it might release a toxic gas,” you have no idea how the corrosion would interact with bone marrow, but something tell you that you don’t want to know

“Wait a minute,” Derek interjects, being included in the conversation now that Spencer put the call on speaker, “I thought things like alkaline water were good for you.”

You scoff instinctively, “Oh, there’s no definitive evidence that shows alkaline water as having any real health benefits. Especially not the benefits that the internet says it has.” Straightening up in your stool, you continue, “In fact, there is evidence from the NIH that says drinking alkaline water could cause kidney damage. There’s a particular-“

“My bad,” he interjects, effectively stopping your rambling before it really took off, “I forgot whose girlfriend I was talking to.”

Groaning at your new vexation, you huff, “Oh, fuck off, Derek. Go kick down a door.”

Spencer quickly switches the phone back, “Thank you, angel.”

Squinting at the photos that were still on your laptop screen, a crude, disturbing thought came to mind, “You know, sparklers can cause alkali burns. It might be something to consider because of the diameter of the burns.”

Your boyfriend was silent on his end of the call for so long that you had to check and make sure the call hadn't dropped. “Did you say sparklers?”

“Yep,” you confirm, “like the ones you can get everywhere this time of year.”

He says something to Morgan, placing his hand over the receiver so you can’t hear, “There’s only one spot in this town, though. I’ve gotta go, see you soon.”

“Stay safe, please! I prefer your bones unburned,” you rattle off into the phone before it clicks, placing the phone back on the stand and deleting the crime scene photos from your inbox.

The front door to the apartment opens and shuts quietly, with Spencer under the assumption that you already went to bed, he was surprised to find you on the couch, nursing a cup of tea. “Hey, baby,” he chirps, unusually peppy for this time of night.

“Hey,” you say half-heartedly, threading your fingers through the handle of the mug.

Your somber tone gets Spencer’s attention, “What’s wrong?”

The slight panic in his voice causes your eyes to snap up to his, “Nothing,” you murmur. “It’s just… the woman who was in those pictures. There- the burns on her bones, they were signs of torture, weren’t they?”

You’d been thinking about the burns ever since Spencer showed them to you, “Yes,” he answers with a reciprocating softness, sitting down next to you on the couch. “The medical examiner concluded that she was burned antemortem.”

That woman had been burned alive by fireworks, sparklers had seared their way through skin and muscle until it finally met her bones. You blink a few tears from your eyes at the thought, “I like my lab, Spence.”

The confusion on his face was palpable, “I know you do.”

“I like my minimal human interaction and my chemicals, and I like knowing why certain things cause certain reactions. I like it when things make sense.” You take a deep, shaky breath, “Killing someone. Torturing someone with fireworks. That just doesn’t make sense to me.”

You had no interest in hearing the excuses that the killer had provided. You had no interest in hearing the psychological breakdown of that woman’s killer. Spencer knows that, “The photos got to you?”

Taking a sip from your mug, you nod solemnly, “I can’t stop thinking about the way it must have felt. Oh, the smell must have been horrible. That poor woman.” In theory, it was a ridiculous notion, killing someone with fireworks seemed neither probable nor possible. Yet here you are.

“But we got the person who killed her,” Spencer reassures you, resting his hand gently on your knee. “We couldn’t have done it without you,” he adds.

Your face warms at his compliment, “I wish I could have helped before she was killed.” You were grateful that Spencer hadn’t passed on any personal information about the woman, it was easier for you if you kept things in separate storage files in your mind.

Spencer hums, reaching out and sweeping a strand of hair behind your ear, “There’s always going to be another one. I’m sorry about the photos, I should’ve made sure Garcia only sent the necessary ones.”

Nodding absentmindedly, you look at him thoughtfully, “This will pass, but for tonight I just feel bad for the victim.”

“I can have Penelope share some of her favorite baby animal videos, if you’d like,” he offers softly, resting his head on your shoulder.

In return, you give him a small smile, “Well, I suppose it really can’t hurt.”

[imagine-you]

If I Open the Door to Heaven or Hell [Wally/Reader]

Summary: You're there for Wally after he confronts his scar. Word Count: 1.8k Author's Note: Just a little thing I wrote after I watched the new episode this morning. Because what do you mean he went through all that alone and no one was there for him? He deserved better. If you liked this, letting me know would make my day! Read On AO3 // Fic Masterlist

When you noticed Wally grab his football, you knew that he was going to investigate his scar to see if Mr. Martin was there. He didn't tell anyone. Not even Maddie. But you saw it happen, so you followed him.  

He was so focused that he didn't even seem to realize you were following him. It shouldn't have hurt. You had spent your life treated like an outsider, so going unnoticed wasn’t a new feeling. You just hated that your death wasn’t shaping up to be any different.  

Even though you had been half in love with Wally for years, he never seemed to get the hint. He joked around with you and threw his arm around your shoulders to reel you in close to his side and gave you these ridiculous smiles that sent your stomach flipping over itself. He was so bright and thoughtful and beautiful. All you wanted was more time with him. You would take an eternity with him, even, but once Maddie showed up, everything changed.  

You were all dragged into the mystery of Maddie's death. But it turned out Maddie wasn't dead. Not really. Janet had been the one to steal her body and Mr. Martin, the guy you had all trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets had been using you all along.  

The betrayal hurt and now everyone was hiding something. But not Wally. He was the rock of the group, lending support and care to anyone who needed it. 

But now, you all had the items that linked you to your deaths and they opened up your own personal hells. Rhonda had been completely shaken by what she saw in hers and you weren't quite ready to face whatever waited for you once you stepped into the girl's bathroom on the second floor near the pre-cal classroom. 

The fact that Wally was skulking away to be tormented by his death just didn’t sit right with you.  

You wanted to stop Wally. But he was so determined to help Maddie that you knew you wouldn't be able to sway him.  

He got to the football field before you did and once he stepped onto the grass, football tucked securely under his arm, he disappeared.  

"Wally!" You called, glancing around for him, but realizing that he wouldn't be able to hear you. He had stepped through a door and you wouldn't be able to follow. All you could do was wait for him and hope that he made it out unscathed.  

You sat down on the bleachers, keeping your focus on the field. You waited for him to reappear, but when he didn't show, you just started talking to fill the empty space in front of you.  

"Wally, I hope you're doing okay in there. I don't know what's happening, but I want you to know you're not alone." You started tracing your fingers along the grooves in the bench beneath you. "You're really the best out of all of us, you know that? You're so kind. You take care of all of us. You have our backs. And I know you'd do anything for us. I guess that's why you're facing your own personal hell just to help out Maddie. But sometimes I wonder who’s there for you. Who’s going to hold you up when you need it?"  

You felt nervous. You trusted Wally and you loved him, but you had never revealed to him just how deep your feelings ran for him. Sometimes, you thought Charley or Rhonda might have an idea, but they never brought it up. Whether it was to save you dignity or they just didn't care all that much, you couldn't really tell.  

It was hard not to be stupid over Wally, though. He drew you in and you were helpless against the pull of him.  

"Sometimes, I get really scared," you admitted, digging your fingernails into the metal just to ground you. "I get scared that you'll leave. I don't think I can do this without you, Wally. Not anymore. You're too important to me. I need you." 

Wally still hadn't appeared, so you kept rambling. It felt freeing, in a way, finally confessing when Wally couldn't catch you.  

"I think the first time I knew that I was gone on you was when you found me in the library. I was upset because it was the anniversary of my death. And for three years, my friends and family showed up to hold some kind of vigil. They would meet on the front lawn and share stories and talk about how much they missed me. That first year, seeing my mom and dad there nearly broke me. My best friend and my little brother and all of them. They showed up for me. But then my friends graduated. And my parents moved. And then no one showed up."  

You felt tears gathering in your eyes and hastily swiped them away. If Wally managed to leave his scar now, you didn't want him seeing you so upset.  

"They always left flowers at the flagpole, because they didn’t want to go anywhere near where they found my body. And my friend wrote a letter about how much she missed me and my brother left his favorite stuffed animal. It’s that orange squid I have stashed away in my old locker. But by that fourth year, I didn't have anyone left around to care about me and I felt so alone. You found me in the library and you dragged me out to the flagpole and showed me the flowers you stole from the groundskeeper and you wrote a letter about how I still mattered even in death. I didn't tell you then, but I think that's when I finally started believing that I would be okay. Because I had you," you added with a shaky smile.  

"I don't know what's going to happen to us. But I just want you to know, Wally, that as long as you're around, I know I'll be okay. And I would do anything for you too. I want to be there for you like you’re there for me. For all of us. Because you're the best person I’ve ever met. And I...I lo--" you were cut off from declaring your feelings for Wally by the sight of him suddenly reappearing at the side of the field.  

He collapsed to the ground, clutching the football to his chest. He was breathing heavy and he flung the ball away, leaving him curled up on the grass. He put a hand to his chest and his breaths were coming fast and uncontrolled.  

"Wally!" You shouted, racing down the bleachers to reach him. You hesitated at his side before seeing the agony in his expression. You dropped down to your knees and wrapped your arms around him, fearing that he was drowning in his own fear.  

You weren't expecting the way he practically latched on to you. His arms wrapped tight around your waist and he hid his face in the crook of your neck.  

"Wally?" You tried, realizing that he was shaking. "Are you okay?" 

Wally didn't respond. He simply shook his head, and you held on tighter.  

"I'm here for you," you assured him. Wally was always so strong. So ready to fight and defend. But whatever he had witnessed in his scar had left him speechless and traumatized. "I'm right here. I’m not going anywhere." 

Wally held you close, his breaths eventually evening out from panicked to steady.  

"I heard you, you know," he muttered into your neck after what felt like forever. He still hadn't lifted his head and you got the idea he was trying to hide.  

You tried not to shiver at the feeling of his lips brushing against your skin.  

"Heard what?" You asked, worried that you knew where this was heading.  

"I couldn't get myself out of there on my own. My coach and my mom and everyone was just so disappointed in me. I didn't want to be there but I couldn't make myself move. When I died, I didn't know it happened. It was over in a second. Just boom. Instant lights out. But I saw it happen and it hurt so much," he got out on a shaky breath. "I was about to lose it, but then I heard you. And you were talking to me about how much I meant to you and all I could think was that you're not disappointed in me." He finally lifted his head, his eyes locking with yours and leaving you transfixed. "I followed your voice out of there. You saved me." 

"Wally, you saved yourself," you said, bringing up a hand to smooth it down over his shoulder in an effort to comfort him. "You're the strongest person I've ever met. You've never been a disappointment. That coach and your mom? They were wrong. You’re amazing." 

Wally watched you for one moment into the next, leaving you with the urge to fidget under his attention. Finally, you noticed a small smile pull at his mouth, his eyes glinting with a hint of life. "Don't hate me," he murmured before he leaned forward, his lips brushing against yours.  

You felt yourself tense, unsure that this was actually happening, before you felt Wally begin to pull away.  

"Wait," you whispered before grabbing a fistful of his shirt and reeling him back in.  

This time, the kiss was less hesitant and more searching. You never thought for one second you would get this opportunity and you didn't want to waste it.  

Wally had pulled you closer, practically putting you in his lap, so when you broke the kiss, you leaned your forehead against his and smiled at him.  

"You really think I would hate you for that? Wally, it's what I've been wanting for years," you admitted, knowing that Wally had likely heard your aborted love confession. You might as well go for broke. "I've wanted you for years," you confessed.  

Wally's lips stretched into another smile. This one was radiant and relieved. He brought his hands up, framing your face in his palms, and held you close. "I think this is the first time I've been on this field since I died and felt anything good." He bit his lip, his eyes searching yours, before he nodded his head as if he had decided something. He moved to stand up, gripping your hand tight in his so you followed after him. He started leading you away from the field towards the bleachers, taking a moment to scoop up his football, before leading you away.  

"Where are we going?" You wondered, trusting Wally and knowing you would follow him anywhere.  

"I think I've earned something good," he told you, his gaze lingering on you letting you know that you were the something good he was talking about. The idea sent a little pleased thrill through you. "Want to go make out under the bleachers?" 

"God, yes," you agreed, delighted and exhilarated.  

You knew that the time would come to find the others. Wally would have to talk about his scar and you would eventually have to confront yours. But for now, you would push all the pain and fear aside and finally let yourself have something good with Wally. 

[meatgrinder-0]

something that ive found myself thinking about a lot recently is the loss of autonomy that you have over your identity and what makes you "human" when you die.

(as has been said before by multiple different people) technically ford does not die when he goes through the portal, but as many have said at this point--in a metaphysical way when he goes through the portal he is dead in the eyes of his dimension, so i find in the narrative he experiences a similar loss of his humanity and in the same way that might've occurred with his death, his memory for any that have access to any form of it constructs him into an idea rather than a person.

and really anything can be said and done with him by the people who are still "alive" when this occurs. since he is in all aspects dead people can use him to justify their actions, as a figure in their concepts, and imagine him up to be whoever they want him to be for as long as he remains dead. the audience of course also partook in these same things prior to his reveal by theorizing about what type of person he was or how he might fit into the narrative as a person but to be more specific to examples of this idea in the show is how stan and dipper see ford as an idea.

due to being absent ford had no possible way to influence what stan thought he would want him to do about the portal outside of his existing warnings in his journals so stan is able to twist ford into a justification to work towards opening the portal, and during the length of his work on it according to alex's statements about stan "expecting ford to be weak and in need of help when he came out of the portal" (i feel the likely useless need to say whatever a creator says about their work is always only as canon as one wants it to be but this is worth mentioning here and i think it makes sense contextually within the text) the ford who comes back is so jarring because in his "death" he's become an ideal of what stan wants to see in him to play into his hero fantasy and hopes of earning back his appreciation

and of course as i think about a normal amount of times per day--the duration of the show presents the author as a figure that is wrapped up in a concept of ford while presenting him in a much more mythical format--another one of gravity falls' mysteries. pretty much every main character that isnt stan views him in this mystical light throughout the show with dipper being the prime example and uses the idea of "the author" as a driving force to pursue the questions that the town begs them to ask. there is something to be said about how creators of the show refer to journal 3 as "its own character" in a way that clearly separates it from it's author. even outside of the universe of the show itself, even in the show's own writing team ford--somehow despite being already being only a concept by virtue of being fictional--is stripped of humanity and becomes an even further abstracted concept.

but even to the ford who is alive the self who had gone through the portal is also a concept. i know this idea isnt explored much in canon if at all but bear with me here while i make shit up for fun--in a way, we ourselves the way we are now are dying near constantly. when we wake up each morning we of course have access to the same memories and the same body and the same experiences as the self we were before we fell asleep, but if we were to get existential, how can we be sure that we are the same consciousness that we were before?

even if this is a bit too absurd of a concept to be applying to a messy braindump "analysis" of a fictional character theres something about how extreme change in a person (often from trauma as ford has experienced for Obvious reasons) or even just the passage of time leaves the former self as nothing more but a memory to even the body that it once inhabited.

as i said theres not much to connect this to in the canon of the text, but i do believe that ford does see his past self who wrote the journals as an idea just as much as anyone else in his life did.

[sirfrogsworth]

So, I did know the basic psychology of this. Or I have a good guess at least. But I was too tired and just needed a way to end the post quickly. I am running on fumes nearly all the time and sometimes I just do whatever I need so I can publish something and feel like I accomplished a goal.

But a few people are having issues with what I said.

They mentioned that autistic folks find comfort in repetition and feel like I am calling that sad. I definitely see that as a possible interpretation and I appreciate them mentioning feeling that way.

But I just wanted to use a little bit of energy to address why I don't think I was referring to these normal, healthy coping mechanisms. I mentioned in a reply that my father actually needed to watch the same show over and over because he was too sick to concentrate on something unfamiliar. I get why it can be helpful.

Firstly, I don't know many autistic people who trap everyone they know at a party and play the same 12 songs over and over.

By and large, that aspect was what I found most sad.

But aside from that, I see this repetitive behavior as a very different thing.

In fact, I would say it isn't the behavior itself... it is the *reason* for the behavior.

I see Trump's repetitive behavior more as living in the past, stuck in his ways, being stubborn, and unwilling to try new things. Something I see a lot with elderly conservative folks. They yearn for a better time in the past when they forgot all of the shitty things and only remember happy times. They say music was better in the good old days and refuse to consider any good music could be created outside of that golden age.

Trump is stuck in the 80s and 90s. He was young and healthy and grabbing pussy and fucking models (with and without consent) and going to parties of important people. He was invited to celebrity weddings and was literally Regis Philbin's best friend. Society generally liked him. He was just the goofy rich guy with the hair and many of us thought he was really good at business. Something enhanced by The Apprentice which was heavily edited to make him seem like a business genius. He likes people thinking he is good at business more than he likes being president.

I actually think he hates being president and only ran this time to stay out of jail.

Trump is not well liked as he used to be. No matter how many cult members love and praise him, he remains deeply unhappy. His wife refuses to touch or even kiss him in public. She does this little hand escape thing every time he tries to hold her hand. And when he tries to kiss her she makes him do that French thing where he has to kiss the air near her head.

Every one of his current "friends" is just playing the game. They are hoping their fealty will help them climb the ladder. I doubt he has a single genuine friend left. Except maybe Rudy Guiliani, who turned into a fucking nutball.

He was traumatized from being inches away from death and I think that was the real reason he moved his inauguration inside. A life long New Yorker is pretty well adapted to the cold.

He probably has erectile dysfunction. He is said to need a diaper. People say he smells really bad. Getting old sucks for everyone, but it is devastating to a narcissist of Trump's caliber.

Trump is in a psychological prison of unhappiness and all he has left is his rallies and his parties where he tries to trigger memories of better times. He has the world's thickest nostalgia glasses.

Why do you think he says "Make America Great AGAIN"?

He says he is going to restore the US to its "former glory."

Almost every personal and political goal of his is based on restoring how things used to be. Which is why he so easily fit into the regressive Republican party despite being a New York Democrat for most of his life.

Trump has elderly nostalgia brain and he is stuck in a loop. He is desperately trying to recreate his glory days.

I get why people had an issue with the caption. And I should have waited until I had more energy to clarify.

In the end, this man is stuck in his ways and stupendously uncurious of new things.

And those are terrible traits for a president.

[sha-brytols]

someone: do you think anders is a good person

the part of my brain that engages in genuine critical media analysis: i think it's disingenuous to label him through the lens of a binary good/evil paradigm because what makes him such an interesting and engaging character is his status inbetween a human with complex emotions and desires and flaws that will never fully align with each other, and the singleminded focus and purpose of a supernatural entity that is literally justice incarnate and has no capacity for nuance and whose very nature is fundamentally incompatible with humanity but the two of them are so deeply connected that they make up a single identity that's constantly at odds with itself and this struggle causes him to act in ways that aren't always clean and often land him and those around him in impossible positions. i think he was morally justified in doing what he did to the chantry but i also believe he understood the magnitude of what he was doing which is why i inherently disagree with the notion that characters like varric or sebastian were wrong in their reactions because that's the very nature of violent revolution—people get caught in the crossfire and are harmed despite their innocence and regardless of the righteousness of the action at large. if someone killed your mom to protect a hundred orphans you probably wouldn't come out of the experience full of love and admiration for the person who killed your mother because regardless of the outcome they still fucking killed your mother. anders destroyed people's homes and lives and there's a conversation to be had about how he gaslit and exploited hawke, his own potential lover, into being an unwitting accomplice even though we know through meta knowledge that he was perfectly capable of doing it on his own and very likely only wanted hawke's involvement because he needed a powerful figure to become the rallying symbol for his cause. the reality is his very nature would have never allowed him to choose hawke and his friends over his goal because to do so would have been fundamentally selfish and antithetical to his newfound identity as one who champions the needs of the many at the expense of the individual. it's a beautifully tragic story about the lengths a person would have to go to in order to enact any sort of meaningful change while constrained in a system that benefits from their powerlessness, and how that process cannot exist without suffering and pain on both the individual and collective level. i also feel like if anders was written by a person with a degree of compassion and awareness for not only the character they were writing but just what living as a vulnerable and targeted minority is like then the narrative and message would have been vastly different than what ended up on screen because, ultimately, the game wants you to look at the stark injustice of a child being ripped away from their family to spend a life locked away in cold isolation where they're at constant risk of exploitation, abuse, death, and even a complete removal of their personhood, and think that there's room for compromise. it's a narrative that perpetuates the myth that passivity and tolerance in the face of oppression is more virtuous than burdening the masses with the discomfort of seeing their own culpability in sustaining it. a better game would have challenged varric and sebastian while also affirming their anger instead of just the latter. a better game would have explored hawke's reaction in a deeper manner that examined their relationship with the system, their own internal biases, and how anders affected their worldview.

the part of my brain that was on tumblr in 2014 and is still extremely petty and spiteful: he should have blown up the conclave while he was at it

[fevers-and-emeto-oh-my]

The lack of media literacy continues to be so funny. Not touching my thoughts on Bobby (I have a lot, that would be an entire post in and of itself), if you don’t understand why Tommy was there or why he’s going to be a pallbearer/at the funeral, you’ve had your head in the sand.

First of all, narratively it WAS a good choice to have Tommy help with the antiviral. Chimney saved HIS life way back when they were all at the 118, and Tommy’s “I’m doing this for Chimney” confirms that he still remembers that and wants to return the sentiment however he can.

Second of all, Tommy was part of the ORIGINAL 118. Whether you like it or not, he was PART OF THE TEAM when Bobby became captain. He was part of Bobby’s first LA team and Bobby as captain allowed Tommy to change and be more true to himself (alongside Chimney and Hen). We know even from Tommy’s dialogue in s7/8 that he thinks highly of Bobby. Like it or not, Tommy DOES have a reason to be at the funeral, because BOBBY WAS HIS CAPTAIN TOO.

From the promo, it’s clear that the pallbearers are solely 118 members—Tommy was an OG 118 member. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for him to be a pallbearer alongside Hen, Chim, Buck, Eddie, and Ravi. If you personally think he SHOULDN’T be at the funeral/a pallbearer because he “has no reason to be there” or “he has no connection to Bobby” or “he doesn’t know Bobby” then you’re simply not watching canon. Tommy has known Bobby longer than Athena and just as long as Hen and Chimney. Saying he has no connection to or doesn’t know Bobby is simply straight up false.

Additionally, to get into the bucktommy of it briefly—if you’re going “why was he in the reaction sequence” “why did they waste time showing his face” then once again, your head is in the sand and you’re not watching canon. Since 8x06, bucktommy has been on more or less a romcom trope pathway, from Buck baking and obsessing over whether or not he should reach out to 8x11 where they sleep together (with their first hot and heavy scene EVER) and have a misunderstanding to drive them apart. Buck saying “thank you for doing this for me” and Tommy saying “I’m doing this for Chimney…and for you” was purposeful. Buck’s smile afterward was purposeful. The show is trying to make it clear that Tommy will unconditionally support and help Buck even when things are hard, AND the show is making it CLEAR that there are unresolved feelings, there’s unresolved tension, and they’re not done yet. If they were done, Tommy’s line would have ended with “I’m doing this for Chimney.”

Buck’s “EX-boyfriend” in response to Athena’s “you called your boyfriend?” is not the “bucktommy shut down” that people think it is. It’s a clear indication of where they are NOW, narratively continuing to plant the seed that where they are is about to change. They have been on this path to reconciliation since 8x11 at LEAST, with every choice leading toward a get-back-together. Buck’s exes have never been back on the show outside of the closure with Abby; the fact that Tommy is being brought back repeatedly for a continued dance around the tension is the EXACT will-they-won’t-they Oliver was talking about.

Also, they SHOWED Tommy’s reaction during Bobby’s death BECAUSE he’s narratively set up as being there FOR Buck. This is the first time we’ve SEEN Tommy in tears, giving us another glimpse at the layer beneath cool confident pilot. He’s in pain from the loss and in pain watching Buck go through the loss, all while not being able to go into the tunnel to help him (and ultimately, powerless to do anything to help at all considering he can’t resurrect Bobby.) Every established partner of the 118 was an important piece in saving them—Maddie doing research on CCHF, Karen as the delivery driver of the antiviral and as help in figuring out Moira’s plan, Athena stealing the SD card, delivering the antiviral, and being there for Bobby, and TOMMY as the diversion for the antiviral. Showing him in the reaction sequence puts him on the same level as the 118’s established chosen life partners and reaffirms the possibility that this is it, bucktommy are it for each other. We have NEVER seen one of Buck’s love interests get to see him THIS distraught, and I think that’s completely on purpose to be able to deliver on the fact that they can support each other through every facet of life, good or bad, easy or hard.

If Tommy had NO reason to be in these scenes or these episodes, he WOULD NOT BE IN THEM. Flat-out, point blank. He is THERE because there is a NARRATIVE REASON FOR HIS PRESENCE. If you think he’s there for no reason, you’re being blinded by bias.

(And no, he’s not there so he can be a “plot device” for buddie. He’s not there so Buck can push him aside for comfort from Eddie. He’s not there so he can tell Eddie that Eddie’s gay in the middle of a funeral (because THAT’s certainly the time and place…./s). He’s not there so he and Buck can get back together and Buck can go “actually I want my best friend instead.” If all you see is that he’s there for buddie, then when you are throwing tantrums about bucktommy endgame all you will have to blame is yourself, because canon TOLD YOU this was happening and you twisted or ignored it.)

[shanklin]

It’s Stan’s 2nd time in prison and he is bored.

The food is edible, his cellmates are quiet and polite and even the guards treat him with the bare minimum of respect.

Needless to say, Stan hates it. 

Boredom means Stan has time to think about what could’ve been if he had been smarter, better and more like Ford.

If Stan had just known how to fix Ford’s project, maybe he’d still be someone worth keeping around.

With nothing better to do, Stan one day decides to visit the prison library and finds a few boxes full of engineering textbooks abandoned in a corner.

What if Stan could’ve fixed Ford’s project. Could it even have been possible?

Stan swallows hard and picks up the first book.

Meanwhile on the other side of the continent.

“Oh no no no.”

“What is it Fiddleford?”

“I donated the wrong books! All my notes and corrections were in there…”

Stan snorts as he keeps on reading. This McGucket fellow was hilarious.

The book by itself would’ve never kept Stan’s attention, but the notes, snarky remarks, blueprints for villainous contraptions and death rays? Now that’s the stuff!

Over the next months Stan devours one book after the other and when he finally gets released he’s allowed to take the boxes with him as a thank you for fixing and improving the prison’s new experimental computer system.

***

A couple of years later Fiddleford opens the door to a little robot stomping around on the front porch. Mechanical legs on a toaster body with googly eyes that Fiddleford suspects can see more meets the eye.

He kneels down to inspect the cute little fellow when it suddenly notices him, vibrates and starts to talk.

“THANK. YOU. FOR. THE. BOOKS. NERD.”

Fiddleford has no time to figure out what that means before a book shoots out from the slot and hits him right in the head.

“HA. HA. HA.”

The little bot laughs and explodes into fireworks.

Fiddleford watches the show in amazement and inspects his present.

Beginners Guide to Mechanical Engineering

But not any guide. His guide. The one he carried with him throughout college and kept improving upon whenever he could. 

Only now there are more notes added. Corrections to his corrections, complaints about his design choices and disagreements with his theories.

Oh, it’s on!

***

It takes a few days to find the person behind the little prank, an anonymous entrepreneur who is said to be self taught and on the verge of reinventing the world of computers and robotics as they know it. 

Things that people have also been saying about Fiddleford himself.

Fiddleford laughs in delight. He always liked a friendly competition!

So he sends his new rival a little killer robot of his own as a greeting.

***

If Stanford had known what asking his old college buddy to help him out with the portal would entail he would’ve thought twice about inviting him.

It’s not like he isn’t happy for Fiddleford. He clearly found a like minded individual with the same passion for destruction as himself but would it kill them to keep it quiet for once? Stanford is doing important work here!

[Besides if Stanford wanted to he could totally build robots as well. Better ones even. Fiddleford shouldn’t spend so much of his free time fighting with his rival when his best friend was right here!]

Stanford sighs as yet another explosion causes the ground to shake and feels something push against his leg. 

It’s a little possum-like robot bringing him a bottle of water courtesy of Fiddleford’s rival.

Apparently this mystery person felt bad about destroying Stanford’s house one time too many and gifted him this little helper as an apology.

Try as he might, Stanford is unable to hate the thing and lets it climb onto his lap.

“At least you want to keep me company, hm?”

He strokes the fake fur carefully and the robot rumbles in contentment. It feels nostalgic and he knows Stanley would’ve loved it.

Maybe Ford should call him.

[fireinmoonshot]

strawberry danishes | joaquin torres x fem!reader

Pairing: Joaquin Torres x Fem!Reader Summary: Joaquin Torres has a crush on the cute girl that comes to the coffee shop he frequents. Little does he know, you've been crushing on him too. He's never regretted eating a strawberry danish more than the day you finally come up to him and start a conversation. Warnings: TW for food/coffee etc. Word Count: 2.7k A/N: I saw Captain America: Brave New World last Friday and honestly I spent the entire time staring at Joaquin. I've loved him since TFATWS but I loved seeing more of him in this movie and I immediately wanted to write for him after but I was away for the weekend without my laptop, so literally as soon as I was home I knew I needed to start working on something for him. This was inspired by the song Coffee Cake by Benson Boone. I really hope you enjoy and please let me know if you guys want me to write more for Joaquin!

Joaquin Torres knew your coffee order before he even knew your name.

It wasn’t in a creepy way – he wasn’t stalking you or anything. The two of you just happened to frequent the same coffee shop. Whenever Joaquin was home, he had a routine of stopping by a local cafe by the park near his apartment for a coffee and a pastry after his morning run. The small cafe obviously had a place in your morning routine too.

The first time he saw you he couldn’t help but think about how gorgeous you were, and it wasn’t just the fact that the sun was shining through the window beside you, coating you in the warm, golden light. He was a fairly confident person but for some reason, he couldn’t find it in himself to approach you that day and talk to you.

He told himself that he’d do it the next time he saw you, but the next time you were in and out of the cafe so quickly he barely even saw you from his spot across the room, his mouth full of a bite of blueberry danish. 

Then, work called him away and he was gone for weeks. Any time he made himself a coffee over the next few weeks, he thought of you. He was fully aware that it was probably incredibly creepy of him to be doing so – he didn’t know the first thing about you, and you had no idea who he was – but he had a crush. He had to admit that to himself.

When he was back home, he looked forward to his morning coffee more than anything simply because of the chance that he might see you. Luck happened to be in his favour, too, as when he walked in and joined the line to order, you had lined up behind him. He had no idea, of course, until he’d ordered and stepped off to the side. The poor boy had almost choked on air itself when he turned to see you ordering after him. 

“Just an iced chocolate to-go, please,” you said.

It was the first time Joaquin had heard your voice and he was pretty certain that it was the actual sound of angels coming down from the heavens. He had to force himself to look away from you so he didn’t get caught staring. He was so stuck in his own head, focused on your beauty, that he didn’t even hear the barista calling his name and order out for collection. 

He felt a slight tap on his shoulder and looked down to see you looking up at him. 

“Hey,” Joaquin managed, his voice a little breathless. Oh, this was so embarrassing. The first thing he can think to say to you when you initiate a conversation with him and it’s hey? 

You pointed towards the counter. “I think that’s your order. The barista keeps looking at you when he’s calling out Joaquin.” 

Joaquin cleared his throat. “Oh, right. Thanks.” He chuckled awkwardly and moved to grab his coffee, planning to turn around afterwards and introduce himself properly. By the way, the name is Torres. Joaquin Torres. And what would your name be? Something beautiful, I’m sure. 

It was probably for the best that by the time he turned around – oblivious to the death stare the barista was giving him, irritated at having to shout his name out multiple times  – you had moved across the room to take a seat at a table by the window. Now it would just look weird if he was to walk all the way over to you and introduce himself. You’d excused yourself from the conversation. 

Disappointed, Joaquin took a sip of his coffee and forced himself out of the cafe, berating himself in his thoughts the whole way. It was only when he’d gotten back to his apartment that he realised he’d left behind the pastry that he’d ordered alongside his coffee. 

More time passed and Joaquin had been working so often he hadn’t had any time to get back to the cafe. He started to wonder if possibly this was all just nothing more than a silly crush on a passer-by. That maybe, you weren’t destined to say anything more than the words that you’d shared at the cafe that day a month ago. 

Joaquin wasn’t going to stop going by his favourite cafe though. If you spoke to him, of course he’d speak back to you. But he wasn’t going to go out of his way to talk to someone that clearly wasn’t as interested in him as he was in you, judging on your past interaction. 

He settled down at a table by the window, placing the plate containing his strawberry danish down in front of him. It wasn’t long before the staff brought over the coffee he’d ordered and he could dig into his danish without being interrupted. He’d missed these mornings while he’d been working. There wasn’t much else that filled him quite like the peace he had when he was in the cafe. 

He wasn’t watching the door when you walked into the cafe and went to order. He was too preoccupied with his danish, taking a rather large bite of it and almost moaning at the taste of it. There was nothing as good as a danish from this place, he was sure of it.

He was still too busy eating the danish to notice you walking over to his table, a plate of your own in your hands. It was only when he noticed someone stood beside the table that he looked up, swallowing the mouthful of danish – and luckily not choking on it as his eyes settled on you. He’d assumed it might have been another member of staff, maybe they’d given him the wrong coffee, but he had not expected you.

“You’re in my seat,” you said simply, looking down at the man and trying so hardly not to smile at the sight of him, sitting there looking up at you with wide eyes and sugar all around his mouth and even on the tip of his nose. 

Joaquin was lost for words and it took him a moment to find something to say. “You can sit here! I didn’t realise this was your seat. Do you want me to move? Hang on, let me just get this sugar off my hands and I’ll–”

“Hey, it’s fine. Really,” you smiled, pulling the chair out on the opposite side of the table and moving to sit down “You can stay here. Actually, I’ve kind of been waiting to have an excuse to talk to you, so thanks for sitting in my seat. Joaquin, right?”

He stared at you for a moment. “How do you know my name?” He didn’t even know your name, so how was it possible that you knew his? Unless you’d asked the barista about him… wait… you’d been waiting for an excuse to talk to him? Was his brain short circuiting? Was he dreaming? Surely he was dreaming. Under the table, he pinched the skin of his arm between his fingers… nope… not dreaming…

“Last time I saw you in here, you were spacing out and the barista was calling your name. I had to tell you that your order was being called,” you said, a little sheepishly. “I guess you don’t remember that.” Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all… he was cute, sure, but if he didn’t remember that, he clearly wasn’t as interested in you as you were in him.

Recognition sparked in Joaquin’s mind. “Oh, I do remember that! I wasn’t spacing out, I was just distracted by y– by something.” Admitting he was distracted by you was probably not the best way to start your first proper conversation. “But that makes sense now. I don’t know your name, though. I guess you listen more carefully when they call your order out.”

“I try my best,” you admitted, before introducing yourself to him properly. It was hard not to admit the fact that Joaquin was probably the cutest guy you’d ever seen, especially with the sugar on his face. “You, uh… you have some sugar on your face by the way. Here and here.” You motioned to the spots on your own face so he could tell where to wipe.

His eyes widened again as he grabbed for the napkin and started to wipe the sugar off.

“So, what were you distracted by that day?” You attempted to change the subject.

“Uhhhh…” Joaquin thought for a moment. “You know what? I actually can’t remember. It’s been a while, lots has happened between then and now, I guess.” He laughed a little. “Anyway, let’s not skip over what you said when you sat down – you’ve been looking for an excuse to talk to me? I’d like to know more about that, actually.”

He watched, intrigued and entirely enthralled by you, as you became slightly shy at his words. Like the ones you’d said had been spoken on accident and that you’d been hoping he wasn’t going to bring them up again. But if there was one thing you’d learn about Joaquin, it was that he was always going to bring up the things you thought you could forget.

“Okay, well… I’ve noticed you in the cafe a few times over the last few months and I figured we must both come here pretty often in the mornings for me to see you so often. And… well…” You trailed off, your eyes falling to the plate in front of you.

Joaquin leant forward. “You can’t just leave me on a cliffhanger.”

“I thought you were cute!” You admitted, probably a little louder than you should’ve. “I thought you were cute and I’ve been trying to get the courage to talk to you ever since I first saw you. But you haven’t been in here for a while and the last time I saw you, I chickened out of having an actual conversation with you and ran away.”

It took every part of your strength not to get up and leave the table straight away out of sheer embarrassment. Admitting to a total stranger that you thought they were cute was not the kind of thing that you usually did. But something kept drawing you to Joaquin and today you’d just been given the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You couldn’t meet his eyes for a while, meaning you missed the look of shock on his face and the way his face gradually broke out into a smile of disbelief. You thought he was cute? He thought you were cute! Luck had somehow been on his side today.

“You think I’m cute?” Joaquin replied, a smirk on his lips and the confidence he’d been missing over the last few months whenever he was around you returning immediately. 

Your eyes flickered up to his, surprised to see that he actually seemed to be happy about it. “Well, yeah…” 

Joaquin couldn’t keep the stupid smile off his face. “I swear I’m not just saying this, but I’ve been trying to get the confidence to talk to you, too. I’m a confident guy but for some reason, every time I’ve seen you in here I suddenly become the least confident man on earth.” 

You didn’t doubt his words. They seemed completely truthful and you knew right away that Joaquin was not the kind of guy to lie to you. He was inherently honest. 

“I haven’t been in here for a while cause of work,” Joaquin continued. “I’m in the Air Force. Means I’m not home too often, so I make the most of it when I am.” He decided to leave out the part about him practically being an Avenger. That was something he could ease you into. He had a feeling that dropping the whole Oh yeah, by the way I’m also the new Falcon would scare you off more than intrigue you.

“Well, that explains why I haven’t seen you lately,” you nodded. “So, you just come here for breakfast when you’re in town?”

He nodded. “I have a bit of a routine of a coffee and a danish after my morning run. I’m pretty glad that I do now, especially since you came to talk to me today. Even if I had sugar all over my face and embarrassed the hell outta myself when you did.” 

Joaquin was pretty sure he was never going to live that down. It was certainly something that Sam Wilson was never going to hear about or he would tease him about it for the rest of his life, he was sure of that. 

You laughed. “Okay, but the sugar on your face was actually kind of cute, and if I knew you better I would have just wiped it off for you instead of embarrassing you by telling you so you had to do it yourself.”

“Why don’t we get to know each other better then?” Joaquin saw his chance and took it. “Let me take you out on a date, somewhere that isn’t this coffee shop and somewhere I won’t eat something that covers my face in sugar. What do you say?”

He was pretty confident that you were going to say yes, especially when he saw your lips curl into a smile. He could almost see the cogs turning in your mind as you tried to figure out what to say to answer him. 

“C’mon, let me take you out. I promise I’m not some kind of creep – and yes, I’m well aware that is exactly what someone who is a creep would say – but I’m really not,” he laughed. “All I am is a guy who’s been crushing on the cute girl who keeps coming into my coffee shop and trying to convince myself to talk to her.”

“Okay, okay – fine, I’ll go on a proper date with you,” you agreed, unable to keep it in any longer. Watching him try and convince you was so incredibly endearing but you couldn’t keep him waiting when he was clearly so eager to take you out.

Joaquin grinned. “So… can I pick you up at 7, then?”

“Tonight?” 

“You got other plans?”

You shook your head. “No, I just didn’t expect you to be so quick with it.”

“Well, with my job, I could be gone tomorrow and I feel like we’ve already wasted enough time, don’t you? I mean… we’ve both liked each other for months without knowing a single thing about each other apart from our coffee orders. I’d like to change that,” he admitted.

“All right,” you agreed with a nod. “You’ll pick me up at 7. But right now, I am going to eat this pastry that’s been sitting here in front of me the whole time and I’ll let you finish your danish cause after all, you did steal my seat and I did come here to eat some breakfast.”

Joaquin chuckled and picked up his danish again. “You promise to tell me if I get sugar all over my face again?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “Like I said, you looked pretty cute with sugar all over your face.”

He shook his head and took a bite of his danish. He’d thought he wasn’t going to live this down if Sam ever found out about it, but he hadn’t counted on you being one to keep reminding him about it. But… you found it cute, so Joaquin was pretty sure he could live with that… hearing you calling him cute. 

You smiled to yourself as you watched him bite into the danish and end up with sugar on his face again. It wasn’t everywhere like it had been before but it was on the corner of his mouth. 

He looked over at you. “I have sugar on my face again, don’t I?”

“You trying to get me to tell you that I think you’re cute again, Joaquin?” 

“Can you blame a guy for liking the fact that a pretty girl thinks he’s cute?”

Smiling, you reached over and swiped your finger over the corner of his mouth, removing the sugar from it. You almost laughed at the way Joaquin froze and the look of shock on his face. He was pretty sure he’d just died and gone to heaven, actually. 

“You just had a little bit of sugar there,” you hummed, picking your own danish up.

Joaquin let out a long, shaky breath. Who knew a strawberry danish could be so dangerous?

[bugflies00]

i have so many thoughts about the tommy song/video and theyre a jumbled mess. i wouldnt call this an analysis this is just. most of my thoughts surrounding the video and what it shows about tommy

one of the things that stuck out to me (outside of how depressing and just like. is this guy okay) is something that ive always respected tommy for because he's always stuck with it and its his like. fervent conviction in people doing things theyre passionate about. thats always been one of the things he talks about all the time!!!

when AI started appearing he was talking about death of creativity, with the internet he's always talking about how the real tragedy is the algorithm killing people's passion by driving them with views and money, and even when he talks about youtube itself, and nowadays standup, its so full of passion.

and i think thats really important because it would be extremely easy for someone like tommy, who's in the process of maturing his online image from a very loud, immature and PASSIONATE persona, to make fun of it. it would be so easy to do like so many other creators and laugh at how "cringe" it was and make a quick cash/attention grab with a funny clip of him laughing at himself. but he never has. well don't get me wrong he's laughed at himself or old videos but it's always just. good natured taking the piss out of himself, it's never this like. mocking your younger self who was so excited to do what they did only because now its "cringe".

not only is he constantly giving that advice to other people (its been years of him replying, to any kid in his chat or donations asking advice on how to be a creator etc, "just go and do it if you love it!!"), he's coherent with how he applies it to himself. he realised he was making cash grab tiktok react vids and hated it so much he just stopped uploading for a while.

i dont know i just think there's something admirable about being able to still be sincere in a time where everything especially online has to be processed through a layer of irony. and its even funnier because he's more sincere THROUGH the irony i mean he's literally going into standup.

letting yourself create something that "means" something is fucking hard especially when half the internet still sees you as a kid who screams around. except the thing is that kid DID make stuff that mattered and that meant something because he was, in his own words, having fun.

i think thats what the format of the video was about too. i mean i think it was pretty clearly not a song thats meant to be streamed, its not purely music, its also a video because tommy is also first and foremost an editor who went to film college. its also not a "comedy" song like he's made some before, because those were all intentionally created to land as many jokes and make a big buzz— which doesnt mean they were bad! im philza is a contemporary lyrical masterpiece. but they had a specific purpose and it was to make people laugh and i think this video was completely like. opposite of what peoples expectations are of tommy. the "wow hes not a child anymore hes being mature🤓" reactions are the most obvious aspect of this (which, like, its been a while, get with the program).

i think the point of this was to make something that genuinely meant something but that was also like. as unpalatable to the algorithm and to the TommyInnit Viewer as possible. even now that he's gone into making quieter, more reflective videos, we've never had the flashing texts and the projector images and just all of that. hes always talking about how he hates the way the "youtube formula" has dictated the course of content and stolen all creativity for youtubers. its not meant to be a YouTube Video tm. its just meant to mean something to someone, and obviously process some sort of personal emotions, and i just think thats. yeah. yeah

i mean he even says so outright. "this needless, self indulgent spiral of self gratification" is pretty damn explicit. its not meant to be funny content its really a cry for help or for just. anything at all really

it was also a lot about perception, yknow the "entertainer" dilemma, "its all attention porn"... theres a layer of this point thats universal, everyone struggles with how they're perceived and i think any "artist" or "entertainer" figure can see themselves in it, but there's also a layer thats completely impermeable to most of us because it touches upon the sheer absurdity of a "youtuber". especially one of tommy's popularity. especially one who blew up so so fast so young. i honestly think its IMPOSSIBLE to process that. its about the ethics of having millions of people's time so readily available to you if you just press the right buttons to make the algorithm happy and then you've got them. im like 75% sure i remember him saying this on stream once, something like "your time is valuable" and if a fan didnt value him as an entertainer they should drop him.

and even here^ thats the saddest "lmao" ive seen in my life SORRY LOL but its really just. yeah im not gonna repeat myself it speaks for itself. perception and internet expectations and all that

one of the other images that stuck out to me was also this:

"yeah i know its too much like bo burnham but it wont be in a year though. in a year it will be like tom simons. just let me figure out what that means, ok?"

a lot of the video is about. influences and inspirations. the bo burnham references are so obvious he's poking at them, but i think he's raising a good point about the creativity that he's constantly praising. its never something that springs up on its own, its all about looking at others work and making it your own and feeding yourself with all those experiences and slowly, surely building your own way of doing things (tommyinnit "minecraft talent show" and "a tribute to dream smp" serial quackity + schlatt impersonator would know all about that) ->

and its daunting! its fucking scary to move away from that! which is also the main vibe i got from the video which, outside of his own issues with how he's perceived online, was the sort of existential dread that comes with actually creating. its one thing to preach you need to be passionate and create, its another to sit down and create something thats BY you. its a part of growing up! and we're literally seeing him do it live (well the bits that he chooses to show obviously)! thats also part of why i think tommy's so relatable to so many people is that he's so like. honest and real about what it's like to grow up, simple as that, and growing into yourself.

"this was everything to me" and using the picture of his younger self... man. theres obviously so much sadness underlying the whole thing but i think the nostalgia and melancholy in mourning being someone who was only inspired/excited by your interests and role models is universal. and obviously for tommy a lot of those influences turned out. well i think it was pretty damn clear who/what he was referring to here. ->

i don't think i need to go too in detail about that, especially cause a lot of the video was clearly a way to process his own personal emotions. especially with those next few images. i just hope he's okay and that god doubles his pain and gives it to mr beast to quote my friend bronzetomatoes. man.

of course he had to end with a funny clip about a hot anime girl and i think that kinda. sums it all up in a way. if that makes sense. at the end of the day its about the fact that he has to use humour to make the thing work when its out in the open, even when he tries not to and to be actually honest, but theres also the fact that hes literally a comedian and creating something "honest" IS through humor. its kindof a double edged sword

right well that was my jumbled mess of psychoanalysing tommyinnit i hope he is alright and all that because well that was. something

[acid-ixx]

Now that someone mentioned Connor as a possible love interest I think he will be a good choice. He obviously feels a similar kind of anger at his own father(s) so they could connect thanks to it. And his super hearing and other abilities will make it possible for him to always know when something is wrong with reader. I see reader being in shock that someone wants to be there for them and dismissing any yandere tendencies, toxic traits in favour of keeping Connors attention. Not like they could loose it no matter what they do, Connor is to obsessed and I could see him being dependent on his darling.

a/n: since i am more familiar with the animated series (young justice) for conner kent and i feel your ask is describing his version so i'm basing it off of him! but yes you are so fr in this. i will never not go too far when it comes to rambling, i love long asks hehe.

it was temporarily stated in chapter one that you had your momentary bouts of anger and that in itself already paved its way into conner's heart because of course most would be put off with the rage that he kindles within. you two would really be some sort of match made in heaven— it's like you deeply understand the intensity of his emotion, and you both share that bond nobody could deter; it being anger towards your parent/s and the inability to be accepted or nor noticed/your feelings being invalidated most of the time.

but because of the level of power between you, you being human and him literally being a carbon copy of superman, conner would be incredibly overprotective and possessive of you. and i'm not just implying that he would give anyone within a fifty mile radius a death glare, no, you would literally be glued to his figure all the time.

that means a hand on either your shoulders, your waist, or hips. if you were the shy type, then expect him always holding your hands or wrist. but if you don't mind the weird display of pda, then you'll be lucky enough to have the rights to smother your face in his chest whenever and wherever— sometimes that would even be his go signal to tell anybody off whenever you feel the slightest bit of discomfort.

but other than the advantages of being with him (protective guard dog 24/7), you would pretty much lose every sense of independence nor privacy. which isn't losing much since you already have your mad family on your tail constantly tracking you down and probably a huge bounty on your head— but at least you have your boyfriend with you, right?

with the lack of attention you were given to as a child, one given willingly without the need to ask for is basically a heaven for you. and with his powers? babe, you don't even need to ask for him to take you away to somewhere safer because he could already hear your heartbeats thumping louder and louder.

speaking of superhearing; a way to calm your boyfriend down quickly and efficiently would be laying his head on your chest. you'd probably discover the method later on your relationship, but as much as conner loves to hear your heartbeats from any distance, he loves it all the more when the only barrier that keeps him away from your beating heart would be your skin and your ribcage.

since conner was raised with the lack of physical contact and he's the type to push people away, your physical affection towards him is something he doesn't even know he craves, not until he tastes it for himself.

you wouldn't even feel the need to tell creeps off anymore! because conner is out there intimidating every person who dares to show the slightest bit of romantic intentions towards you.

so really, is it so bad if he wants you all for himself?

you both eventually gain a codependent relationship with each other— but it's not like any of you would leave each other wanting for more, because you both are more than enough for each other.

and conner thinks it's better off if it would only be the two of you in this world.

screw your family.