anyway the actual point of fandom is to inspire each other. reading each other's fics and admiring each other's art and saying wow i love this and i feel something and i want to invoke this in other people, i want to write a sentence that feels like a meteor shower, i want to paint a kiss with such tenderness it makes you ache, i want to create something that someone else somewhere will see it and think oh, i need to do that too, right now. i am embracing being a corny cunt on main to say inspiring each other is one of the things humanity is best at and one of the things fandom is built for and i think that's beautiful

when you wrapped yourself in a blanket like a cocoon and then trying to get out

FREE GUY (2021)

Omg this is like 800 metaphors rolled into one megaphor

I like the expression new-fangled. I don't know what it means for something to be fangled, but I sure as hell know it was recent

7x05 — text posts

oh snap

if I may return to the first image

(I'm a nosy beak I want to see their pics on the wall and I love the snap of Bobby)

Lou's behind the scenes from 911 season 2

Holmes: my dear Watson :c i'm so sorry i put you through an extremely dangerous situation (again)

Watson: that was the best day of my life and I'm going to write about it in my diary with a glitter pen

Huge fan of when my speech patterns rub off on people enjoy when thay happens

Reblog if you didn’t write My Immortal

We’re going to find the author by process of elimination.

It’s Wednesday, my dudes.

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan “Buck” Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan “Buck” Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Firehouse 118 Crew (9-1-1 TV) Additional Tags: Podfic, Podfic Length: 1-1.5 Hours, Audio Format: MP3, Audio Format: Streaming, post ep for 6x10, Sort Of, Evan “Buck” Buckley-centric, Evan “Buck” Buckley Needs A Hug, Friends to Lovers, clown to clown communication, Misunderstandings, Not Actually Unrequited Love Summary:

The first thing Buck noticed when he walked through the door was the smell of plaster and wet paint. There was a white spot on the wall in the living room, primered but without any color yet, about the size of a man’s fist.

Eddie looked sheepish. His knuckles were still bruised, scabbed over but healing.

“You were in a coma,” was all he said.

“Yeah,” Buck agreed. He knew the feeling.