#GOD I CANNOT EMPHASISE THIS SHIT ENOUGH

[cherry-bomble]

AND ALSO something something Deli rejecting the cerisian parts of himself in the five year span after the events of the ambush knowing that the grainy parts of him were more susceptible to the mould creature which inexplicably attacked him but also giving up meatlander traits and traditions like the bearing of the shield because he wants to appear strong enough to fight unprotected after losing a level of defense in Colin.

something something Karna's "hot girl glow up" is so bittersweet because her form starts to mimic Lady Amangeaux and her style because it's the only female/maternal presence she's ever known. she's likely seen Amangeaux leverage her sensuality to get what she wants so with Deli being the first thing she desires so she subconsciously mimics her appearance to try and appeal to him (long curly red hair, red clothing with green and yellow accents, sombre expression). also bittersweet because as she 'ripens' Amangeaux withers away. (or this could be a coincidence ngl)

[glitterinmycrimson]

jake webber x reader headcanons

(image from pinterest)

₊ ⊹ there are zero good jake gifs so still image ⊹ ₊

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽♱⋆.• ˚ ❤︎ ˚ •.⋆♱☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

i cannot emphasise enough how much of a golden retriever boyfriend jake is. he's always enthusiastic about what you do, whatever your passions are, he's your number one supporter. he's fiercely loyal to you. before you started dating he'd text you every day, checking in with you, sending you music he likes, anything to show you he's interested in you before he gets the courage to ask you out.

he apologises a lot because he doesn't have much of a filter. he doesn't say anything offensive but sometimes you'll be having a conversation and he'll just say something completely out of pocket. it's a little hard to talk to him sometimes but he's understanding and tries his best to keep you happy.

he has a specific playlist that he plays for you every time you're in the car together. it's a mix of songs you like, songs that remind him of you and songs he's written about you. if it's one of his songs he harmonises with it like a douche.

he says he loves you very often, it's like his mantra. you'll be cuddling on the couch, just watching tv, and he'll whisper a couple 'i love you's and kiss the top of your head. sometimes he just uses it as a suffix, "how's your day? i love you", "that shirt looks good on you, i love you". he worries that he doesn't show you enough affection so it's his little (literal) way of showing his love.

he keeps a tab about you in his notesapp. your interests, birthday, star, moon and sun signs, gift ideas, etc. you're pretty much on his mind 24/7 but he's afraid of forgetting the small things and it helps to have all the information compiled in one place.

he probably has your contact saved in his phone as something super cheesy, like loml with a bunch of emojis or some crazy inside joke that's incomprehensible to anyone other than the two of you.

he uses god awful pick up lines on you. even after you two are together, he'll text you the corniest shit. "have we met? you look exactly like my future s/o", "if you were a song, you'd be the best single on the album", etc. he goes through phases of themed lines, sometimes it's horror movies, sometimes it's pokemon, it's all cringe.

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽♱⋆.• ˚ ❤︎ ˚ •.⋆♱☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

[saladmix]

salad!!

first and foremost: i love TDTWB so much, i literally cannot emphasise that enough.

i wanted to know your thought process on the parallels of april and leo’s relationships in both world 6 and dimension z!

what i gather is that in world 6, leo has a dorky crush on april, and in dimension z they’re more like siblings. what made you tweak this little aspect? ramble on!!

Ahhh thank you!! I am once again honored and touched and every shade in between I can't thank you enough for reading and engaging with the fic!

oooooOooOooOoo STAND BACK IM ABOUT TO RAMBLE let me get my ramble boots on these are high waters.

OKAY SO spoilers below if ya aren't caught up!

So World 6 as we now know is the Mutant Mayhem universe! And I really, really loved April and Leo in Mutant Mayhem. I think Leo's crush is so charming and wholesome maybe I'm lame but I got a soft spot for that time period in life where crushes felt all consuming and were just so embarrassing and made you act like a fool.

I know in Mutant Mayhem/TOTTMNT universe we don't really know what direction they're taking Leo and April in. I mean for the most part it seems one-sided but I'm a sucker for unrequited love or some pathetic man pining, especially when the other person in the equation might be totally oblivious. But either way I'm excited to find out! I think they're cute fam. I do. And in my fic specifically, MM Leo has known April for about a year at the point where we meet him. And he's clearly still got this crush, but I also like to imagine that he's deepened that friendship and at this point they really know each other well and that infatuation is maybe something a little deeper it's got some roots now!

But the Z boys are different! The Z boys have known April practically their whole lives. We're talking playground friends, we're talking pre-school friends. So April grew up alongside them and because of that, she really does feel like a sister to them. This isn't to say that really good childhood friends can't also develop romantic feelings for each other! That happens a lot! But for Leo and April specifically I wanted to explore a really deep platonic relationship. Catch me throwing around the term platonic soulmates. Like they are each other's person, you know? The kind of relationship that would quite frankly intimidate the hell out of romantic partners because they're like okay what the hell how do I compete with this level of attachment?

Another reason I decided to go this route is because I knew I wanted to have the Rasey relationship and I didn't want to be doubling up on romantic mayhem you know what I mean? That wasn't quite the story I wanted to tell. And I chose Rasey because honestly I feel like Leo and April would be so freaking solid as a couple like they'd be In Step with each other, like they are now, and that is a lot of fun to write! I love stable loving relationships in fic that shit is undervalued! But it wasn't the dynamic I was in the mood for. And Rasey, at least my Rasey, is messy. They're these two hot-headed assholes that butt heads most of the time, they're always arguing and bickering, but they also have a lot of passion and love for one another. I like that, honestly, they're probably not right for each other but god damn do they choose each other.

So really it just came down to the relationship I wanted to focus on. I like having a variety of different kinds of relationships to write <3 So all this to say that I think MM Leopril is really cute and charming and I'm a fan, but Z Leo and April have a really deep unshakable bond that's kind of that once-in-a-lifetime relationship. And it isn't romantic, but it's love, and it's powerful <3

[momo-de-avis]

I genuinely wonder what the usa looks like because lisbon is a fucking dirty city. I cannot emphasise how much it smells of piss. there's dog shit everywhere cause nobody in this country will deign to bend over and pick up their dog's shit with their royal fine hands. there's an astounding lack of public bathrooms in lisbon and with the insane rise in tourism cafés are now charging 1€ even to clients so everyone pisses on the ground. when I do a tour, I take a shortcut which is just a fucking stairwell that I swear to fucking god has not been cleaned in years. that shit is limestone that looks jet black. it reeks of something that at this point i cant even say what anymore. there's trash rolling about the city. tourism is so much, there's many people in the city, it's literally impossible to collect all the trash the city is producing. it's an open air garbage disposal this city. literally every lisboner has been complaining these past couple of years that the city is filthy, it's disgusting, it smells of piss, its full of dog shit, that the portuguese are filthy fucking animals who cannot be clean, that the homeless situation makes it worse because again, homeless means bathroom-less and there's no public bathrooms. I literally have to hold my breath for 10 seconds every day I get off the ferry the smell is so unbearable.

like I cannot highlight enough how dire the situation is

AND YET every week at least one american says to me 'wow lisbon is so clean'

what the fuck is happening over there bro

[bylrlve]

Warning! Potential leaks for season five of Stranger Things!

Alex (aka @dyersfilms on twitter, used to be swiftlynatalia) is the person who successfully leaked most of season 4 due to her knowing a source. She did, however, insist Byler was entirely platonic that season and they fought for most of it and only made up at the end in the pizza van, so…

Here’s her saying she won’t post any byler leaks this time around, which she has said previously.

She got a message saying they’re all fake, and she thinks they all are, so keep that in mind.

Here’s a short one: Will distancing himself from the party bc it’s too hard to be closeted and to be around Mike. If real? Endgame fr.

A ‘leak’ from episode one where shit goes down after the opening scene of Will singing SISOSIG, Will falls, and Mike helps him up,

Here’s an extremely detailed one that casually drops Mileven breakup, Robin-Mike bonding over Vickie and Will, Will trying to avoid Mike ‘confronting him about the painting’, Mike and Jonathan fighting over Will’s safety. Nothing here is debunkable but…. Yeah. God, would it be nice, though.

The two most interesting ones. First, an ask that’s almost entirely plausible except for the mileven part - and that part, specifically, I’m calling bullshit on bc it claims that Hopper is still on the Mike Hate Train. It was made abundantly clear, after their talk and their awkwardly long hug at the end of season 4, that that’s in the past. Besides, it just wouldn’t fit tonally. S3 was the heterosexual-cliché, silly filler season. S5? Nah. Can’t 100% say it’s fake, but even Alex agrees this one isn’t real.

Lastly, an interesting one that’s plausible throughout which claims Mike gets seriously injured and spends some time in hospital. Will stays by his bedside after everyone else leaves and kisses Mike on the forehead. Mike wakes up after he leaves - I think the insinuation is that Mike does a Half-Blood Prince and wakes up knowing that someone he felt safe with was there, but he doesn’t know who it was. If that’s legit? As I said, endgame fr.

I do want to note that both the mileven and Byler asks word the ‘main character getting injured part’ as everyone being ‘shaken up’ so there are a few options: it’s the same person with legit leaks, and Byler isn’t endgame. That, I’d be more willing to accept, cautious as I am, were it not for the Hopper part, which sticks out like a sore thumb. Second option: it’s the same person messing around. Third: it’s two people, one building on the other.

Cannot emphasise enough that these are most likely just bored people having fun, but I figured I’d share them all. The last one is getting passed around the tag sans context, and I wanted to clarify everything else Alex has received. Do not get your hopes up about Byler based solely on these.

Letting my imagination run absolutely wild here for just a moment, however: Maya and Vickie are confirmed to be filming at the hospital set, presumably visiting someone. There’s also a pic of someone with bloody shoes. Imagine if Robin visits Mike in the hospital, witnesses some Platinum-Tier Will Byers Pining™️, and ends up talking to Mike after he wakes up - no mention of how long he stays there.

Lastly, it is fun comparing these to the more doom-and-gloom (re: Mike) leaks Sapphicjopper on twitter got. The awesome @solgmorell has a post explaining those in detail.

Oh, and an interview came out today where Shawn Levy said something insane but, you know, water is wet.

[everythingispirates]

❌🤗✅

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

idk if it counts as a trope but I have such a visceral reaction to alpha omega shit I'm not writing that god bless

🤗 What advice would you give to new fanfic writers that are just getting started?

get the weird shit out of your system immediately never hesitate etc, write what you want to never try to appeal to anyone, incorporate the shit that you inherently carry with you culture, genre sensibilities, anything, and finally read real books I cannot stress this enough read a bunch of fanfic too but never stop reading real books

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

I do love to indulge in violence like when I am presented with the opportunity I will take it and hold onto it also I think something that crops up now and then is like the general discomfort of having a body like it's not a super common thing but I do find myself coming back to it a lot. like I'm v fond of emphasising a character's physicality in different ways idk it's fun

[martyreddie]

You're absolutely right that not every BT shipper is like this but also - I saw some of the posts you linked and I gotta say, the fact that the other BT shippers aren't calling this shit out is kinda.

You know?

Like I've seen horrible takes from buddie shippers (most recently one that said Chris was a spoiled brat and him being in Texas was Eddie's fault for not putting his foot down) and whenever I opened the notes I saw other buddie shippers calling them out

Hm well I can sort of understand where you're coming from, but I'm not sure I agree entirely. First of all, my screenshots come from reddit (the only other social media platform I use, which I know is a Choice of me), and I'd say that a) on reddit the takes are generally worse than on tumblr and that b) on reddit people are more likely to end up in a bubble like this. That's not to say I don't think the people in those comment sections shouldn't have called out these horribly misogynistic takes (they didn't, at the very most it was people politely disagreeing about interpretations) or that people who spew similar shit here on tumblr shouldn't be made aware what they're saying.

But I don't think the normal BT shippers need to be in the worst corners of their fandom so that they can call out takes like this. If they choose to curate their space in such a way that they don't come across these fuckass takes, then good for them! God knows I have blocked buddie blogs for takes that pissed me off! We also have to keep in mind that BTs are a smaller group than buddies, so there's less likelihood of people randomly stumbling across opinions like this if they know how to curate their space.

Now, since I never see most of the worst BT opinions on tumblr because I've got the worst blogs blocked, I cannot say whether they get enough pushback or not, so do take everything I say with a grain of salt. I just feel like it's important to emphasise that while I do believe there's a tendency among BT shippers to have more awful takes (as explained in my other post), that doesn't mean every BT shipper agrees with those people or is just as bad or whatever. I never see the regular BT shipper in the wild – I only see screenshots of the worst takes and I don't feel comfortable forming an opinion based on that.

But, once again, I could be wrong here. I have no proper info on the subject apart from my own experiences on reddit (which yeah weren't good) and the general vague belief in giving other people the benefit of the doubt.

[vwritesaus]

meet sasha and kiyoshi, disaster duo

going off this poll, i've decided to share a snippet of my original work ft. the main protagonist and her boyfriend :> more under the cut!!

.

      Sasha sucks in a deep breath and steps in front of the couch. Immediately, her boyfriend’s eyes flick up from his phone screen to her face.

      ‘Kiyoshi.’

      ‘Yes, Sash?’

      With as much will as she can muster, Sasha says, ‘I need your help with something. Something only you can help me with.’

      ‘Sure!’ Kiyoshi declares, and his enthusiasm is enough to cause a small smile to tug at Sasha’s lips. ‘What is it?’

      That small smile quickly falls apart and dread fills every crevice of Sasha’s being. But she needs to do this. She has to. It’s the only way. It’s the worst idea she’s ever had.

      ‘I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…’ She shakes her head, wincing at the words that come out of her mouth. ‘D’you wanna go to the gym… together?’

      The following silence is devastating. Sasha wants to dig a hole into the floor and crawl into it.

      Kiyoshi blinks at her, his mouth agape. ‘Huh?’

      Groaning into her palms, Sasha bites, ‘Please don’t make this more painful than it already is. Just say yes or no, dammit!’

      ‘Sasha…’ Peeking through her fingers, she sees Kiyoshi dump his phone onto the cushion next to him and hold his hands out to her, palms up. ‘As much as going to the gym together would make me very happy, I also know you.’

      There is no malice in his voice, just pure fact. He does know her, and she knows herself. Kiyoshi’s the sporty one, the gym rat, the muscle pig. Sasha is… not.

      ‘Which is exactly why I need you to motivate me to go. Who knows what can happen in the future?’

      ‘The future?’ Alarm is rife in his expression. ‘Babe, where are you going with this?’

      Sasha drops her hands from her face, her voice turning dry as she shoots Kiyoshi a weary look. ‘Well, y’know how it goes. All those YA novels. The trope is always the same: the protagonist didn’t know they were magic, and then all of a sudden they need to save the fucking world and they are very conveniently armed with MMA knowledge and are super fit and have amazing stamina and know how to hold their own in a spontaneous fight with otherworldly creatures. As you know, I am the complete opposite, so I better start training in case one of my future goddamn visions ends up being a plot to destroy the world and I’m somehow the only fucking person who can stop it.’

      Gasping for air, Sasha tries to catch her breath and curses her lungs for not being to do their job properly. It just hammers the truth of the matter right down to its core. Kiyoshi is frowning, deep in thought, but there’s something in his expression that flickers ever-so-slightly. She knows what’s up. He’s trying to keep his face neutral, and if her nerves weren’t so shot, she’d be doing the same.

      ‘Tell me I’m wrong,’ she says to him instead.

      ‘Sasha. My love.’

      It’s inevitable and Sasha cannot blame him for it. No longer able to keep his face straight, Kiyoshi crumbles and peals with laughter. Never mind that Sasha glares at him.

      ‘My love, I adore you, but you are thinking way too hard about this.’

      ‘I gotta be prepared, Kiyoshi!’ Sasha argues.

      ‘You are prepared!’ he counters. When all Sasha does is stare at him, question marks flying around her head, Kiyoshi puffs out his chest and states with confidence, ‘You have me! Ya think I’m gonna let ya fight alone should one break out? Girl, please. I’ll always have your back. Just say the word and I’ll come and one-two punch the living shit out of whoever tries to mess with you!’

      The whole scenario is emphasised with Kiyoshi’s signature grin, the one Sasha’s seen flashed at the opposing team during his volleyball matches, and with him flexing his biceps. The whole thing is hilarious, and Sasha would laugh if not for the overwhelming fondness that blooms across her whole chest. God, she got lucky with this guy.

      But there’s just one small problem with his proposal.

      She says gravely, ‘That’s sweet of you, darl, but I hate to break it to you... you don’t have MMA skills either.’

      Kiyoshi blinks. Sasha blinks back.

      ‘Guess we’re fucked then,’ he says.

      ‘Guess we are,’ she echoes.

      ‘Better go train then.’

      ‘Better go train.’

      Tapping a finger to his chin, Kiyoshi’s voice suddenly becomes pensive. ‘Say, wanna place a bet?’

      Not one to back down from a challenge, Sasha asks, ‘What kind of bet?’

      Dark eyes sparkle and Sasha’s hooked.

      ‘If you can survive two consecutive days training at the gym with whatever regime I throw at you to “prepare for the end of the world,’ Kiyoshi pitches, ‘I’ll do whatever you want for a week.’

      ‘A month,’ Sasha rebuts, smiling when Kiyoshi nods his head in agreement. Then she pauses. ‘And if I can’t?’

      She regrets the question the second it passes her lips for an evil-looking grin splits Kiyoshi’s cheeks.

      ‘Kiyoshi—’

      ‘If you can’t,’ he says, ‘you have to eat my famous stir-fry.’

      Horrified, Sasha splutters, ‘Kiyoshi—’

      ‘Broccoli and all. Every. Last. Bite.’

      ‘You fucking arsehole!’ she shouts. Seeing no other alternative that won’t end up with this conversation being a waste, Sasha throws her hands up in defeat. ‘Fine! Just you wait. I’ll fucking do it.’

Two days later

      She storms out of the living room, not wanting to give her boyfriend the satisfaction, but his delighted laughter follows her. It’s contagious, and she laughs quietly to herself. But her determination is stronger.

.

      ‘I gotta say, Sash. I’m very surprised,’ he says in awe.

.

Watching Sasha drop the weights on the floor with a deep groan, Kiyoshi’s mouth turns down at the corners.

      With her hands on her knees, huffing and puffing and wishing for a long, long shower, Sasha peers up at him through her eyelashes. Her hair is stuck to her forehead, disgustingly damp with sweat, and her arms are screaming at her, but she manages a smug grin.

      ‘What can I say?’ she wheezes. ‘I’d rather kill my arms and legs, hack a lung out and feel like death than put Satan in my mouth.’

      Kiyoshi laughs and smiles hugely at her. ‘I can see that! I’m super proud of you though.’

      He makes a heart with his hands to exemplify this, and Sasha barely manages to make one as well.

idk who else specifically is interested, but i'm tagging @alastairstom since you wanted to read ajksdas ♡

[leovaldeeeznuts]

Assigning favourite fob albums to the seven because the horrors won't leave me the fuck alone

Percy: there is some sort of inherent connection between percy and save rock and roll I cannot explain it but it is there. He would love that album so much

Annabeth: either Infinity on high or stardust just because they're fobs best albums and I just feel like annabeth prefers objectively good music if that makes sense?

Jason: this is a toughie because I have not put much thought into it but I feel like he'd love folie the most. Probably fond of lake effect kid as well but that doesn't count bc it's an ep

Piper: I just KNOW piper had an emo phase and cork tree is a classic fob album so it only makes sense. I bet tristan would find her jamming to nobody puts baby in the corner in her room when she was like 13

Leo: Folie. I cannot emphasise this enough he fucking loves folie okay. Normally he plays music in the background when he's working but I bet this album made him feel so much he probably had to put down whatever he was doing for a second and go "holy shit"

Hazel: Infinity on High babey!!!!! She listens to it while painting and she has a blast everytime. Also has at least two of the songs stuck in her head at any given moment

Frank: Mania mania mania mania mania oh my god that is HIS album nobody gets it nobody understands it nobody FEELS it as much as he does

[thedreadvampy]

like the thing about me, right. and I cannot emphasise this enough. is that I am extremely conventionally attractive in a very like "English rose" buxom Kate Winslet In Titanic kinda way. with the good bone structure and very balanced features and flawless porcelain skin and freckles and rosy cheeks and hourglass figure and thick soft hair and naturally great eyebrows.

And the only ways I am not conventionally attractive. are that I'm not thin, I'm over 25, I don't wear makeup with the intention of looking more attractive (only for Drag Reasons), and I dress and style myself in a way which is specifically focused on looking as gay, alternative, physically imposing, and weird as possible. and the thing is. nobody who I want to find me attractive actually thinks any of those things are negatives.

like yes sure I have insecurities out the wazoo. I don't think I'm as hot as my slim muscular friends who are slim and have angular faces and flat stomachs and are thin. because I Am Not Immune To Propaganda.

(also I'm gay and therefore VERY conscious of the amount of just DEVASTATINGLY beautiful women in the world like holy shit there are so many unconscionably gorgeous people just wandering down the street at the same time as me on any given day, with any number of ages, body shapes, facial features, styles and presentations, aesthetics, skin types and tones, hair types and styles, levels of performance of femininity, whatever. like goddamn. WOMEN. I am aware that I'm hot but do you guys KNOW HOW HOT WOMEN IN GENERAL ARE. and I HAVE types like impolitic as it is I don't think all women are equally beautiful or attractive but my god among the subset of women (and non-woman dykes) who I personally find strikingly beautiful there is so much variety and so many deviations from what we're told we collectively should find attractive that although I tear chunks out of myself for not being thin or ripped or tall or having full defined lips or a hard jaw or plastic-surgery-perky tits or doe eyes I do actually. know that none of those things are necessary for a woman or dyke to be hot, bc very few of the women or dykes I have found mindmeltingly beautiful have had all or necessarily any of those traits. like we're much readier to wholeheartedly apply mainstream cishet white thin patriarchal beauty standards ruthlessly to ourselves than to others. anyway I got distracted thinking about how hot women are. back to the post)

so the thing is I know I'm on the upper end of societal standards of feminine beauty, particularly laying aside my weight (and we all recognise, I hope, that no woman is ever considered thin enough) and the decisions I'm actively making in the direction of being less conventionally attractive, which for the most part is a Deliberate Choice I Knowingly Make rather than an accidental side effect.

but a) you're not allowed, particularly as a woman, to believe yourself to be beautiful, because that's seen as conceited and delusional and narcissistic even if it's empirically true and/or not particularly a thing you find validation in. and b) I personally am Not Allowed to think that I have any meaningfully notable positive traits without immediately walking that thought back hard and slapping myself with a series of Brain Sanctions for getting too uppity. this is because I have severe brain poisoning from an unknown source or sources.

all of which is to say that since I was a fairly small child it's been evident to me on some level that I'm. you know. pretty. as a child despite being a horrible gremlin who perpetually looked like I'd just fallen out of a tree into a jumble sale I was nevertheless consistently recieved as adorable and pretty. as a teenager and adult, despite being a weird kid who was a total social misfit, a good proportion of people around me, whether or not they knew or liked me, found me attractive, and when people tried to come for my looks the only message they ever really landed on was "you'd be so unbelievably hot if you didn't dress weird/do your hair weird/do your makeup badly/do gender things wrong BUT YOU RUINED IT".

like I KNOW I'm hot but I'm not ALLOWED to know I'm hot because that would be Bad. if people compliment my looks I get really embarrassed and uncomfortable and shrug them off. if I look in a mirror I start nitpicking my appearance.

HOWEVER. If someone calls me ugly all bets are off. And it's not like a defensive thing it is deeply felt. I never feel more sure in my looks than when someone tries to convince me I'm ugly. It's vain off the chain. Ego off the leash. Cause I know I'm beautiful and you just gave me permission to think that.

Took my assessment of my looks out of the hands of the People Pleasing Brain and gave it over to the Argument Brain and the Argument Brain? That brain has no compunctions about whether I'm allowed to know that I'm beautiful, clever and loveable. its job is to collect empirical data and provide evidence for a bulletproof argument and whole you can convince me I'm stupid, wrong, fallible, bigoted, short-sighted, unpleasant and a bitch based on cherry picked evidence, the empirical evidence just stacks up vastly in favour of other people agreeing that I'm hot, interesting and that they care about me.

you know. TL;Dr choose your anon hate carefully bc while conflict makes me crumble there are several lines of attack most anons choose which just causes me to gigamax into a steel wall of ego.

"I think you got this fact wrong due to unexamined bias" - GOD I'm the WORST I'm a MONSTER I can never JUSTIFY MY EXISTENCE

"haha you're ugly/sexually repulsive/unloveable" - haha bitch have you SEEN ME I'm the hottest and most adored fucker in this McDonalds

the thing is nothing makes me feel more secure in my appearance than anon hate calling me ugly

99% of the time I'm like. embroiled in all the usual worries about my looks and body. am I too fat is my jawline bad am I too short am I too tall is my posture weird do I have a moustache am I getting wrinkles why don't I look like the beautiful women I met on the street

then someone tries to tell me I'm ugly and it's an immediate boost bc my first reaction. every time. is BITCH ARE YOU KIDDING EVERYONE'S BEEN CREEPILY IN LOVE WITH ME SINCE I WAS 14 IF THERE'S ONE THING I KNOW ABOUT MYSELF IT'S THAT I'M EMPIRICALLY ATTRACTIVE. like look at my life of being immediately objectified and sexualised by every straight man I meet despite deliberately dressing like a weird goth dyke. has it been fun? no. has it been miserable and traumatic and left me feeling like my skills and personality take second fiddle to having big tits and a cute face? for sure! but am I ugly? LOOK AT MY PROFILE PICTURE M8 I'M A CERTIFIABLE SMOKESHOW. PEOPLE'S PARTNERS ARE THREATENED BY ME EVERYONE WANTS TO FUCK ME AND/OR BE ME. I'M ADORABLE.

don't send me anon hate commenting on my appearance, guys. It releases the ego beast. I'm SO HOT.

look at me fuckos

ADORABLE. YOU WISH YOU WERE THIS CUTE. it's a shame about my personality but you can't win em all.

[prokopetz]

Everything Tumblr has told you about Moby-Dick is absolute bullshit, and everything that Tumblr has told you about Moby-Dick is 100% true. It’s a travelogue fantasy. It’s proto-science fiction. It’s cosmic horror. It’s shockingly original and it’s shamelessly plagiaristic. It’s a misotheistic Christian parable in which the whale is the mask of a cruel, uncaring God and Ahab is Satan himself, not as trickster or as tempter, but as doomed hero. It’s the most gripping thing you’ll ever read. It’s boring as shit. But above all else – and I cannot emphasise this enough – it is filled with Facts About Whales.

[timbourinedrake]

My pictures from Mitski today- I will never emotionally recover from this

[earthstellar]

It’s 3 AM on a Monday Morning: Let’s Talk About Pharma

I cannot emphasise enough how Pharma was possessed/resurrected by literal space gods and the very first thing he did, leading up to the panels above, was to monitor his ex-not-boyfriend via security cameras-- presumably at least in part to ascertain if Ratchet had a new boyfriend or not-- solely in order to overpower the space god possessing his frame so that he could enact “revenge” and kill the shit out of his ex-not-boyfriend’s new boyfriend immediately. 

The very first thing Possessed Pharma actually does is have Drift shot as close to the spark as possible via targeted and clustered minion open fire.

Just prior to these panels, Pharma watches the security cameras for at least a brief period of time and immediately singles out Ratchet (and whoever appears to be closest to Ratchet) to ensure that his initial shots upon entering the deck are guaranteed as possible to destroy Ratchet’s new boyfriend and ONLY Ratchet’s new boyfriend (most of the other minion shots go wide/miss most of the others/don’t give as much damage to other bots present). 

There is no indication that Possessed Pharma would have given that much of a shit about any of what was going on, had it not been for Pharma’s deep seated obsession with Ratchet immediately kicking in the second he realised Ratchet was actually on board. 

It completely derails whatever the original plan might have been to address the loss of the God Gun. He 100% pivots towards getting the fuck down there with two new core objectives: 1) Obtain Ratchet and 2) Destroy Bot Most Likely to Be Ratchet’s Boyfriend 

Essentially: Pharma is so petty and so invested in Ratchet that it overpowers the influence of a literal god on his spark, processor, and frame-- Total possession, totally overridden by his instinctual petty needs.

(There is quite possibly also a further motive in the form of wanting to just generally isolate Ratchet the way Pharma felt isolated; Aiming at Ratchet’s closest friends and colleagues has a lot of intent behind it...

We see most medic characters tend to be social or actively at their best and most comfortable when with other people. First Aid is even part of a gestalt. We know Pharma did reasonably well in the past, right up until being stationed as a sole medical lead in an isolated location.

There’s nothing in canon that explicitly states that medic type bots might do better in groups, but it does make sense for the nature of the work, and we tend to see medic characters that have fairly social personalities or tendencies. So this is just my conjecture, but I have a whole too-long-post planned about Cybertronian class/caste and social behaviours in the works anyway...!) 

I know that we all already know all of this, but I feel like the sheer level of both pettiness and genuine obsession is core to what makes Pharma an effective and frightening villain. 

We’ve all seen a million “unhinged doctor” type enemies in all kinds of media before, but Pharma is somewhat unique among them in terms of how he got to this point, and how his obsession realistically developed. 

He knows what-- and who--he wants. 

Death can’t stop him. 

God can’t stop him.

It creates a far more effective unsettling vibe to Pharma overall; He’s not just dangerous due to medical knowledge and skills, but we know that he’s going to inevitably make unpredictable mistakes because his sheer obsessive focus on his points of interest have potential to fuck up his higher reasoning. 

It’s not just Ratchet he’s obsessed with, either.

Pharma at Delphi: Loneliness Under Duress and the DJD 

He was obsessed enough with running his clinic effectively enough under difficult conditions to provide care to an isolated and vulnerable population, at the very least to the degree that it’s hinted that he had such a focus on keeping the doors open and continuing to service those in need that when the DJD initially approached him. (Keeping in mind, of course, that a visit from the DJD is very much in the overwhelming majority of cases a brutal and horrific death for all on site.) 

We can assume that in engaging with Tarn, even though Tarn approached him first and specifically sought him out, that Pharma did his best to negotiate not just a reasonable “way out” of death for himself-- But for his patients and staff as well. The end deal was X number of t-cogs at X intervals, and you leave me, my staff, and the rest of my patients alone. 

It’s an unwinnable situation: Any deal with the DJD in such a situation essentially boils down to “Commit atrocities, or we will commit worse ones”.

He clearly felt the need to continue his deal with Tarn despite the spark-crushing, processor-warping level of moral injury it caused him to do, so out of an effort to continue providing medical services as needed-- For those who wouldn’t be effectively harvested for their t-cogs, at least. 

He viewed it, most likely, as a sacrifice of few so that the many could still receive treatment. 

His mindset on this may have been warped by his service as a medic during the war, although we have very little to no canonical information on what Pharma was really up to during the war for the most part, so it’s hard to say-- We do know that he worked with the New Institute, so who knows. 

But obviously, in the past, Pharma was well-adjusted; Even when working at the New Institute, which is when the panel below takes place. 

He was intensely devoted to his patients, took pride in his job. He was a good doctor, as far as we ever see him working in the past, and we do get to see a few glimpses of him administering what appears to be compassionate care. 

It’s unclear at what point various traumas from war etc. may have started to derail him, thus priming him as an ideal victim for Tarn to manipulate, and that’s something that needs to be remembered: 

Pharma is a victim of the DJD. 

He’s not a bad guy for evil’s sake; He set out to do good, or as good as possible given the circumstances that gradually developed. He wanted to make the best of an impossible situation for the sake of those he might still be able to save. 

It’s suggested that Pharma created the rust plague as a way to justify the closing of the Delphi site-- Which in and of itself suggests a serious level of desperation; It may have been during the creation of the rust plague that Pharma genuinely suffered a mental break of some kind. It’s a sign that he saw no way out, the situation was becoming unbearable/untenable, and he realised that Delphi needed to close somehow before it purely became a harvesting factory for Tarn’s t-cog demands. 

It’s a sign that he felt so isolated, even from his own staff, that he did not feel able to reach out for assistance. 

Left as the sole authority under such severe pressure, with all the typical pressure that comes with being in charge of the wellbeing and care of others also bearing down on him in a remote location with supply concerns etc., it’s very easy to see why Pharma eventually folded-- It was inevitable. 

He was under duress for an indeterminate amount of time, with very little outside assistance if any, with a limited number of staff who he evidently did not feel he could reach out to-- Either because of medical hierarchy nonsense (which is unfortunately a very real issue in actual real life medical systems) or out of a desire to prevent his other staff members, most of whom are junior medics, from potentially getting looped into the deal with Tarn and the DJD themselves. 

Pharma is uniquely effective as what would otherwise be a very stereotypical “mad doctor” type villain, because he is genuinely unwell, and we can understand fairly clearly how that happened-- Even with a lack of much background elaboration on Pharma’s past, and without having all the details of the lead up to where we pick up the Delphi situation. 

Pharma had a mental breakdown under sustained duress which spiralled into far more unhinged actions, but those actions--while not excusable--are at least understandable.

Because what do you do when you’re all alone, you have vulnerable patients at risk, you only have junior medical staff who are part of a terrifyingly small number of available/still alive medics post-war (which must also be taken into consideration when potentially sharing information with them which could place them at greater risk themselves), and the DJD-- a group of people that will kill everyone in the vicinity regardless of anything if their demands are not met-- is knocking on your door? 

It’s likely Pharma fixated on Ratchet because not only is Ratchet an exemplary medic, but because Ratchet seems to be one of the few colleagues Pharma was ever particularly close with in the past. 

In isolation, particularly in prolonged periods of isolation (famously, a few case studies exist involving prisoners held in solitary confinement for at least 12 continuous months, although I won’t link those reports here as they may be genuinely disturbing for some people), it is known that there is often a tendency for people at an intermediate stage of cognitive degradation caused by extreme isolation to mentally fixate on family members, close friends, colleagues, or any person or people they can more easily bring to mind-- People that they have formative or significant memories about, for example. 

(Part of this is simply because it is easier to imagine these better-remembered people in greater detail, which helps provide a slightly greater degree of mental stimulation while in total isolation. Among other reasons, but anyway!)

Ratchet fits that description for Pharma. 

A more mild version of this has also been reported to some degree by several adventurers/explorers, such as those who go on long term expeditions to isolated areas such as high elevation mountain caps--- An apt comparison, given the icy and isolated location Delphi is located in. 

Many explorers who survive gruelling expeditions mention fixating on a photograph of a loved one, or imagining what advice their friends would give them if they were present, or even talking out loud to their friends as if they were there-- Which is also useful for regulating breathing at high altitudes, so this serves multiple physical and mental purposes, for what it’s worth! 

But given the way Pharma monologues to Ratchet towards the end of the Delphi rust plague incident, it very much gives me the vibe that Pharma had likely been fixating on Ratchet for some time prior to Ratchet’s arrival at Delphi, and it may even be indicative that Pharma is at a point of mental stress where he may have been monologuing to an imagined Ratchet prior to where we step into the Delphi situation. 

Which is just my conjecture, as nothing suggests this in-canon, but it wouldn’t surprise me at all if this had been the case to at least some degree. Pharma’s ranting to Ratchet is very effectively unsettling and disturbing, especially with the in-universe context that Pharma in the past had been a very calm and effective medic. 

Stress and isolation and prolonged duress do things to people. Oftentimes, bad things. What happened with Pharma is overwhelmingly sad, and that lends greater weight to how frightening his behaviour is later on. 

This is someone who was unable, for whatever reasons, to get any help dealing with a nightmarish ultimatum under difficult circumstances while in relative isolation, with a lot of responsibility and professional stress bearing down on them throughout. It’s a realistic setup for a brutal downfall.   

Pharma undoubtedly had a connection to Ratchet going back a long way, both personally to some degree as well as professionally, but whatever else may have been going on with him between then and the end of the war, it seems the DJD and Tarn specifically may have ultimately been what pushed his tendencies for high independence and self-motivation towards fuel for obsessive behaviours.

It seems to me as though, to some degree, his obsession with Ratchet may have initially manifested as an attempt to cope and stay on top of things-- At least for a while. Ratchet was a good colleague, a friend, a great example of the type of CMO to aspire to be. 

But the DJD leaves no survivors. Pharma is not an exception; It just took him that much longer to die, and he suffered-- particularly mentally-- the entire time. 

Which doesn’t justify anything he did. But we can understand why he went on to do those things. 

And upon being resurrected as a frame-puppet for a space god, that fixation-- Ratchet as a sole point of focus, warped from being a coping method under isolation and duress to being a genuine full-blown obsession-- continues to drive him through what is, really, a horrendous situation there, too. 

It lets us know that the bots possessed by these gods are conscious, to some degree, in their own processors. They are aware to some degree, but their frames are moving beyond their control, their processors are muddled with the thoughts of a cosmic entity. 

That has potential to be terrifying-- And Pharma is powering through, once again, fixating, raging against impossible circumstances, inevitably failing. 

Pharma is, fundamentally, a doctor who fell prey to manipulation under threat of death and suffered severe mental health challenges as a result, and owing to ultimately being unable to cope, committed atrocities, acts of abuse of power, and violence while developing obsessive fixations with periodic episodes of acute manic behaviour. 

Things only spiralled out from there; Again, not excusing Pharma’s actions, especially as he does seem to have a reasonable degree of clarity/lucidity while in the process of setting up and/or actively committing several heinous acts even when they are bookended by what might be considered manic episodes (I really wish we had more canonical information on how Cybertronian processors function), but we can absolutely understand how he got to this point. 

And it’s rare to see a realistic and understandable “mad doctor” type character, so I appreciate Pharma as being a great example of how to do “mad doctor” correctly. 

Also, it’s hard to make such a character be in any way funny, but even though Drift getting shot is not funny, we can still make the connection that Pharma truly is interested in Ratchet to the degree that in his mind, Ratchet’s periphery-- friends, colleagues, boyfriend-- are targets for him as well.  Which is frightening. And also sort of easy fuel for fandom, which is helpful to offset the horror. 

It gives us an “out” from the potentially depressing background of Pharma, in that we can acknowledge the realistically serious and disturbing nature of his obsession with Ratchet, and the upsetting nature of his downfall, while also being able to say “lol so gay for Ratchet” and do normal gay fandom shit, which makes some of the extreme violence slightly more bearable for us as audience members/readers. (I love gay Pharma memes; I also cried at the end of the Delphi arc, at least twice. All things in good balance, lmao) 

JRO really nailed it with Pharma; This is a character that has been extremely well-written and well presented, especially considering the fairly limited amount that has actually been written for the character! We really only have the Delphi Arc and the somewhat brief later on shenanigans towards the end of Lost Light for any direct content involving Pharma, but we can still piece together this much from that comparatively little. 10/10 Nicely done. 

tl;dr it’s fun to talk about how Pharma is so gay for Ratchet that he overpowered a god in order to shoot Ratchet’s new boyfriend, because yes, but also, holy shit I have feelings about Pharma 

if you read all this, thank you so much! <3 

it genuinely is 3 AM on a Monday morning at the moment, now almost 4 AM LOL, so I have not edited this at all lmao, and I apologise for any errors etc. that there might be. <3 

[Source: Lost Light Issue #22, MTMTE Issue #17]

[hollybell51]

Gentleman

Navigation

Sam Winchester x AFAB!fem!Reader

Supernatural (2005), s03e02 “bloodlust”

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: you and Sam don't exactly see eye to eye with Dean's new friend, so you return to the motel by yourselves. Things... escalate.  

Content: smutty smut smut! Shameless, loving, gentle porn with a bit of a plot. Tooth rotting sappiness and fluff. Bit of hurt/comfort, bit of angst. Reader is just so in love with Sam (I am too dw). Sam is down horrendously bad for the reader (I'm horrendously down bad for him. I cannot emphasise this enough). Use of (Y/N), but not too much. Hickeys, making out, extremely light switchiness (barely noticeable, just healthily flexible dynamics), blowjobs, handjobs, fingering, safe sex, vaginal sex. Hugs all round (someone needed to give these boys one), Dean and the reader get along, Dean has like one soft moment, there's quite a bit of reminiscing and stuff. Gordon's vibes are Off. As above, set during season 2 episode 3.

Notes: HAPPY NEW YEAR MY LOVES! I'm (kinda) back, and my summaries have not gotten any better! Started watching Supernatural and got brainrot. Got lots of stuff planned but probably won't actually write it (sorry). The things I would let these two men do to me is insane like actually insane besties I am not ok. Anyways enjoy the by-product of my suffering, consider this a peace offering as I worm my way into the Supernatural fandom.

Also I have been working sporadically on some requests so if you made one chances are I've seen it and I have started it, but also I have Things in my Life right now that are very Stressful so yeah that's fun but yknow it is what it is, thanks everyone for being so supportive and patient with me xx

To say you were uncomfortable would have been an understatement. It wasn’t just how easily Gordon was talking about what had happened, or the too-bright light in his eyes as he recounted it, or Dean’s ease with the whole thing. It had been a freaking execution! And sure, the guy was a vampire, but the way the saw had just chewed right through his neck, the kicking of his legs as he’d died, the blood spraying over Dean’s face… yeah. As Sam had put it, decapitations weren’t really your idea of a good time. And it certainly wasn’t something you felt like laughing about over drinks. 

You could see Sam’s leg bouncing slightly, his face blank as he stared at the beer he was nursing. Your own stomach twisted with unease. Chances were, if he was on edge, so were you. The emotional interplay wasn’t new, and in fact, Dean gave you endless shit about it. “I don’t know what’s up with you,” he’d say. “I just gotta thank God I don’t develop some freaky emotional feedback loop with every girl I bang.” 

Now, Sam glanced at you, raising an eyebrow. You screwed up your nose. Not enough to be too noticeable, but enough to let him know you thought something was a bit off too. He nodded almost imperceptibly. 

“What’s up with you two?” Dean asked, frowning at your practically untouched beer. 

You shrugged. Sam shrugged. 

Dean rolled his eyes, taking a mouthful of his drink before turning to his new friend. “I swear,” he said, “they read each others' minds. He’s grumpy, she’s grumpy. She’s happy, he’s happy. I reckon if she stubbed her toe, he’d be limping.” 

Gordon barked a laugh, raising his eyebrows. “That so?” 

“Dean, come off it,” you sighed. 

He shook his head, smiling. “Lighten up, both of you.” 

You opened your mouth to say something about how you didn’t think lightening up was really appropriate given the circumstances, but the scraping of Sam’s chair cut you off. 

“I’m not gonna bring you guys down,” he said. “I’m just gonna go back to the motel.” 

“Yeah,” you agreed as he glanced at you, “I’m a bit tired.” 

Dean frowned. “You sure?” 

You nodded, standing. 

“Ok,” he shrugged. “Seeya.” 

“Seeya,” you smiled tightly, then passed him your unfinished beer. “You want this?” 

“You’re not taking it?” 

You shook your head. “Not in a beer sort of mood.” 

He gave you a searching look, then shrugged again and took the drink. “Sure.” 

“Thanks, Gordon.” You nodded to the other hunter. As much as you felt off about him, you didn’t need to be rude. 

He inclined his head back to you. “My pleasure.” 

Sam’s hand settled on your back as you joined him by the door, and you cast a final glance back at the two men remaining at the table. 

“Sammy!” Dean called, the car keys jingling in his hand as he tossed them to his brother. “Remind me to beat that buzzkill outta you later, alright?” 

Sam caught them with ease, Gordon’s enquiry of “something I said?” chasing you out the door. Hell yeah, it was something he said. It was everything he said.  

“Jesus,” you grumbled, shivering in the cold air. 

Sam snorted, absently shrugging off his jacket and handing it to you. Equally thoughtlessly, you put it on. It had become something of a routine. Sam didn’t exactly get too cold very often, but you did. He was many things, and “gentleman” was pretty high on the list by you reckoning. 

“I don’t know about all of this,” he said, feet crunching on the gravel as he headed towards the car. “Something’s…” 

“Off, yeah.” You swung into the passenger seat, arms crossed firmly over your chest. 

“I can’t quite–” The engine cut him off for a moment, but he didn’t finish the sentence anyway. It didn’t matter.

“I know, it’s a brain itch.” 

Sam sighed, shaking his head. “Tell me about it. Seatbelt,” he added as the car rolled out of the parking lot, another habit between the two of you. You could have sworn you’d have been dead years ago if you hadn’t had someone reminding you to use the damn things, a fact that both Winchester brothers were not afraid to attempt to drill into you. They hadn’t had much success. 

You hummed as you clicked the strap across your body, shrinking further down into the seat. You were feeling better now that you weren’t sitting across from Gordon, now that it was just you and Sam. You loved Dean, of course you did, but Sam was just so easy to be around. The two of you clicked, simple as that, and you adored it. 

“I’m gonna call Ellen,” Sam said decisively, frowning at the road. “Maybe she knows him.” 

You nodded. “Mhm, good idea.” 

You were still humming – the melody from something that had been playing on the drive that day, you thought – as you entered the motel room, gulping down a glass of water before jumping onto the kitchen counter. Your heels made a dull thud, thud, thud, on the cupboards as you swung them, the zipper of Sam’s jacket swishing over the cheap vinyl. You watched him take a seat on the bed and dial Ellen. 

You listened idly to his side of the conversation, eventually sliding off the counter top and coming to sit behind him on the bed. You rested your head on his shoulder, sighing. It had been an oddly long day. 

“But I thought you said he was a good hunter,” he was frowning. 

You thought you heard her say “Hannibal Lecter”, and frowned too. Shit, was Gordon some kind of serial killer? You hoped not. 

Sam’s back was warm under your cheek, but his shoulders were tense. The last few weeks hadn’t been easy. You hadn’t known John Winchester well, but the time you’d spent with him had been… Well, it hadn’t been nice exactly, but you could see the love he had for his sons. You couldn’t imagine going through what Sam had, almost losing his brother and then really losing his father in the space of a week. You thought he was handling everything reasonably well, all things considered.

There’d been one moment, just a few days ago, when you’d thought he might crack. Dean had been out like a light in the back of the car, and you’d reached around to snap a photo of him squished up against the window. You’d laughed at it – he looked ridiculous. When you’d glanced up to show Sam, he was staring straight at the road, a muscle in his jaw twitching. 

“Alright?” you’d asked, and he’d nodded.

You’d frowned. “Want me to drive for a bit?”

This time, a head shake.

He wasn’t alright, you could see that clear as day. “Sam, pull over,” you said softly.

He’d swung the car off the road so abruptly you’d jerked against your seatbelt, simply sitting with his foot on the brake and both hands on the steering wheel.

You’d reached over and put the car in park, switching off the ignition. “Come on,” you’d said, “out.” 

He’d leant against the side of the car, arms crossed, staring out into the field you were driving past. 

“Interesting grass?” you’d asked, bumping your shoulder against his. 

He hadn’t smiled exactly, but his mouth had definitely twitched up a bit at the corner. You’d consider that a win. 

“Seriously,” you’d prodded. “What’s up?” 

“I don’t…” He’d trailed off, picking at a loose thread on his shirt. “I can’t…” 

You’d frowned as he’d shaken his head, looking anywhere but you. You’d told yourself something like this was gonna happen eventually, prepped the whole “I’m here no matter what” speech a thousand times, but now you didn’t really know what to do. The only thing you could think of was to put your hand on his back, rubbing slow, soothing circles like your kindergarten teacher used to do when you were upset. 

Sam’s voice was choked when he finally spoke. “I can’t lose you.” 

Four words, but you were convinced your heart had shattered right there. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, stepping to face him. You took his hands in yours, uncrossing his arms.

“How can you–?” 

You cut him off, shaking your head as you raised his hands to your face and kissed his knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere,” you repeated. “Nowhere you can’t follow.” 

He’d just nodded, pulling you into a tight hug. You breathed deeply, the strong smell of the most recent laundromat’s detergent all around you, your fingers bunched in the back of Sam’s shirt. 

“I’ve got your back,” you whispered. “You know that, right?”

“I know,” he murmured into your hair, “I’ve got yours, too.” 

“Good.” You’d pulled away, smiling as you stretched up to kiss him. It was soft and chaste, but that was all either of you needed. 

Then Dean had woken up and shouted at you to save your “romantic moments” for when you weren’t supposed to be driving. You’d grumbled that he was just jealous, which he’d vehemently denied amongst a lot of vomit noises. But later, as you’d waited for Sam to get back with lunch, he’d put his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close to his side. 

“I’m glad he’s got you,” he’d said. “Real glad.” 

“You’ve got me too,” you’d smiled. “Always.” 

He’d just stared at you for a moment, his arm still around you, before he’d cleared his throat and stepped back. “Thanks,” he’d muttered. “‘ppreciate it.”  

Now, with the same softness, you let your hand slide up Sam’s back and across his shoulders, then down his side. You brushed over his chest, down to his stomach, then back up to settle over his heart. You always forgot how big he was until you tried to get your arms around him, then it was like hugging a mountain. You loved it. 

He cleared his throat. 

You smiled, placing a soft kiss where his hair brushed the back of his neck, using your free hand to sweep it away. 

“Ok, yeah,” Sam said to Ellen. He sighed as your lips trailed higher, up under his ear. 

“Mhm, we will.” His fingers curled in the bed covers as you sucked ever so gently at the spot you’d found, the one you knew drove him insane. 

“Yep, alright. Thanks, Ellen.” A forceful swallow as you rubbed slow patterns across his front, nothing but the thin material of his shirt separating your hand from his skin. 

“Ok. Bye.” 

You smiled as the phone beeped, then was thrown to the bed. You eased your hand under his shirt, shivering as your fingers met the warm expanse of his torso. You could touch him like this forever, if you were given the chance. 

“What’re you doing?” he breathed, tilting his head back, baring his throat. 

“Kissing you,” you whispered as you moved down the muscle of his neck, “touching you,” as your hand ran gently over his pectoral, thumb grazing his nipple. 

“Mm, do I get to kiss you too?” 

You smiled. “If you ask nicely, yeah.” 

“Please?” 

“Hm?”

He sighed. “(Y/N), come on.” 

“Nope,” you laughed softly. “Ask nicely.” 

You felt his chest heave under your hand, and you pressed your mouth to his neck again. 

“Pretty please,” he murmured. 

You pretended to be considering this for a moment, dragging it out. Truth be told, you wanted him to kiss you just as much as he wanted to, but God it was fun teasing a bit. Especially like this, when it was you draped over his back, hinting at giving him hickeys, touching wherever you pleased. 

“Go ahead,” you replied. 

Before you could even draw another breath he’d turned and brought his hand up to cup your face, pressing his lips against yours. You let him lick into your mouth, his tongue sliding languidly alongside your own, the faint taste of beer still clinging to him. It was all so soft and gentle and full of care, everything you adored about him. 

He shifted back on the bed, turning to face you. Your hands were still under his shirt, arm still stretched across his body as he pushed against you. 

“I love this on you,” he murmured as his hands found the opening of his jacket, pushing it back over your shoulders. 

You smiled. “You want me to take it off?” 

“And this.” He plucked at the t-shirt you wore underneath, already coaxing it upwards. 

“Alright,” you laughed, batting his hands away. “Patience is a virtue.” 

“Whoever said that clearly never met you.” 

You looked away, hoping to hide the pink you could feel flooding your cheeks. However many times you did this, Sam never failed to get you flustered. You could sense his eyes on you as you stripped yourself of your shirt and his jacket, the intensity of his gaze sending shivers down your spine.

He started to shuffle back further onto the bed, one hand settling on your waist as he leant down to kiss along your jaw. You sighed, your mind halfway made up to just let him keep going like that. But no. 

“Uh-uh,” you said, pushing him gently off you. 

“What do you–? Oh.” 

You smiled as you slid off the bed, kneeling between his legs. You ran your hand up his thigh, deftly undoing his belt and fly. Heck, you’d had practice. “Can I?”

“Yes,” he nodded quickly. “God, yes.” 

You rolled your eyes, gesturing to his pants. “Well you gotta help me out a bit, yeah?” 

“Sorry,” he grinned, shedding them in one smooth motion.

“And those.” You pointed at his underwear. 

“Yes, your highness.” 

“Damn right,” you muttered as you kissed your way up his thigh, nipping gently at the skin of his hip. He smelled of the soap from last night’s motel room, faint but still there, a little sweat from the night’s earlier action. You could taste it where your tongue touched him, and man was it good.

His voice was breathy when he asked, “You gonna keep teasing me forever?” 

“Maybe.” You watched as goosebumps appeared where your breath tickled him, smiling to yourself. 

“Is that what’s got you smiling like that?” 

You sat back on your heels, arms resting on his knees as you looked up at him. He was so gorgeous, the shitty neon lighting of the room glancing off his hair in a kind of halo. You thought your next words through very carefully. 

“No,” you said slowly. “I’m thinking about how your cock’s gonna feel in my mouth. How you’re gonna say my name when I’ve got you so deep down my throat I’m almost gagging. I bet you won’t be able to keep your hands off me, I’ll make you feel so good.” 

Sam’s mouth fell open, his hands twitching where they rested on the duvet. 

“What do you think?” 

He swallowed. “I think I’m not even gonna take you up on that bet, I think you’re right.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Ok then.” You smiled, leaning forward and taking his dick in your hands. It was hard and warm to the touch, already leaking precum. You licked down, then up again, swirling your tongue around the head. 

“Fuck,” he hissed. “Please, (Y/N).” 

“You want me to suck it?” 

“Yes. Please.” 

You shrugged. “Since you asked so nicely.” You sank your mouth down onto him, your hands working what wouldn’t fit. Sam’s thighs tensed, and you moved. You could have stayed like that forever, you thought, just holding him in your mouth. You had half a mind to ask about that, actually. 

Sam moaned, his fingers twisting in the covers as you pulled your head back, then forward again, sucking and licking along his length. You’d wanted to take your time at first, tease him and see how long it took for him to be fisting your hair and moving your head for you. But now, breathing in the smell of him, feeling the weight and the heat of him, you were losing your composure. 

“Oh my God,” he whispered as you increased your speed, your hand moving in tandem with your mouth. His dick was slick with your spit and only getting messier, something you might have been embarrassed about in the past. Now it turned you on. 

You moaned, the vibrations jolting Sam’s hips despite his best efforts. You gave a tiny huff of laughter out your nose, lowering your head even further until the tip of his cock hit the back of your throat. 

“(Y/N),” he panted. “Shit, (Y/N).” 

“Hm?” You glanced up at him, your eyes watering slightly. He made a sound you’d thought only existed in pornos – before you met him, that was – as his hand finally flew to your hair, his fingers carding through it. He was trying so hard to be gentle, and you loved him for it. 

“You look so hot like that,” he whispered. “How’re you so fucking hot?” 

You smiled, your enthusiasm doubling. You vividly remembered a conversation you’d had with Sam and Dean in the car once, where Dean had proclaimed that “there are blowjobs, and then there are blowjobs.” Sam had turned and looked at you, raising an eyebrow. Dean had yelled at you both and told you to get a room. What you were doing right now was definitely a blowjob, and you were loving every second of it. 

“I’m gonna cum,” Sam was panting, “(Y/N) oh my God I’m gonna cum.” 

His fingers tightened in your hair, his head thrown back and his cock twitching in your mouth. You went all in, sucking and licking and jerking with everything you had in you. 

Yes, you thought as you swallowed everything he gave you, basking in his muttered curses and groans like they were water and you were a wilted houseplant. This was heaven, right here. Every time you watched him come undone, you were completely convinced it couldn’t get any better than this. And without fail, the next time it did. 

He was still panting as you licked him clean, as gently as you could. His hand had settled on your shoulder, large fingers caressing your skin so tenderly it made you want to cry. 

“You ok?” you asked, sitting back. You patted his knee, watching his face carefully. He was flushed, a light sheen of sweat sticking some of his hair to his forehead. You hadn’t really paid much attention at the time, but now you wished you’d made him take off his shirt too. You loved watching his chest heave as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Ok?” he echoed, opening his eyes. He grinned. “I’m more than ok.” 

You smiled back, licking your lips. “Good.” 

“Come up here,” he said, patting his leg. “And take off your pants.” 

“Magic word?”

“Please.” Then, on second thoughts, “pretty please.” 

You laughed, but got up and shed your jeans anyway. You slid onto his lap, straddling his thigh and wrapping your arms around his neck. He kissed you softly, holding you close against him. The material of his shirt tickled your skin, very noticeably baring you from the silken warmth of his skin. 

“Off,” you said against his lips, plucking at the garment. 

“Off,” he repeated, tracing the line of your underwear. 

Almost perfectly in sync, the two of you shed the offending clothing. 

“I love this,” he whispered as he reached behind you, deftly unfastening your bra and pulling it away from you. He set it aside carefully, almost reverently, then bent his head and fastened his mouth to your breast. “Hey,” he said after a moment, frowning. 

You frowned too. “What’s wrong?” 

His finger traced a delicate circle over your other breast, tapping at a spot just above your nipple. “What’s this?” 

You squinted at the area, then laughed. The faded yellowish bruise wasn’t all that visible, but of course Sam would find it. 

“What is it?” 

“It’s a hickey. From you. From last time.” 

His face cleared. “Shit, didn’t realise it’d last that long. Sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” you smiled. “Makes me think of you whenever I see it.” 

“Maybe I should give you more, then.” 

Your grin widened. “Please.”

“Mm?” 

You rolled your eyes. “Pretty please.” 

“Ok.” He bent once more, sucking a matching spot into your unmarked breast. Then he added another one beside it, and a third right in the middle of your sternum. 

“No more low cut tops, I guess,” you sighed, stifling a moan as he moved downwards with another. 

“Shame,” he murmured into your skin, “I love those low cut tops.” 

“Yeah, I know.” 

“I’d be insane not to.” 

You laughed, then gasped as he ran his hand up your thigh. 

“Relax,” he said. 

“I’m relaxed, I’m so relaxed.” 

“Your heartbeat says you’re lying.” 

“That’s for you,” you told him, meeting his eyes. “That’s what you do to me.” 

“And this?” His finger darted between your legs, sliding easily with how wet you were. 

“Yeah,” you gasped, “all for you.” 

He cursed softly, then lowered you gently onto the bed. He propped himself half over you, half beside you, his hand stroking down over your stomach, your hips, around your pelvis. 

“Please,” you moaned. “Sam, please.” 

“Please what?” 

“Touch me. Please,” you added as an afterthought. 

“Nice manners,” he noted, rubbing achingly slow circles over your clit. 

You gripped his arm, fingers digging into the muscle as he bent and resumed his assault on your breasts. 

“You take such good care of me,” he continued, his voice muffled slightly by your soft flesh. “You always take such good care of me.”

“Cause I love you,” you whispered. 

“Mhm, you gonna let me take care of you too?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Of course.” 

“Good.”

You whined at the loss of his fingers on your clit, then bit your lip to quiet what would have been a loud moan as he slipped the finger inside you. The heel of his hand ground against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his finger putting just the right pressure in just the right places. You’d be a mess in no time, and you both knew it. 

“Fuck, Sam,” you panted, your back arching as you chased the feeling. 

“Hm?” His chest was warm where it pressed against your side, the muscles of his arm rippling subtly under the skin where your fingers dug into him. His free hand stroked your shoulder, his mouth busy littering your chest with hickeys. You could feel him growing hard again against your thigh. 

“Fuck me?” you half asked, half offered. 

He grunted softly at your words, nodding. “Got a condom?” 

“Mhm, yeah, sure. One sec.” You reached over to your jeans, rummaging in the pockets until you struck gold. Or foil, you supposed. You watched as Sam tore it open and slid it on, as easily as if he was tying shoelaces. He’d gotten stupidly fast at putting the things on, courtesy of the whole “Dean could get back any minute so let’s just be as fast as we can” element you so often found yourselves dealing with. You weren’t complaining. 

“Ready?” he asked, positioning himself between your legs. You rocked your hips gently, feeling his hardness pressed against your dripping centre. 

He nodded, then softly slid inside you. You both gasped at the feeling, the familiar stretch and the warmth of it. It was like he was made for you, the way he fit. 

“Fuck,” you whispered, your fingers twisting in the duvet. 

“Alright?” he asked, and you nodded. 

“Move,” you urged him. He did, slow and gentle. The light was doing that thing with his hair again, and you wanted nothing more than to run your fingers through it. Brush it off his forehead, kiss him there, smooth the faint worry line that seemed to be present more and more frequently. You’d do anything to make it disappear forever. 

“You feel so good,” he murmured, leaning forward to deliver more kisses to your chest. You were gonna have a whole forest of hickeys when you were done.  

“You feel good,” you replied. Your breath was coming short, a light sheen of sweat gathering over your skin even though you weren’t the one doing all the work. 

“Touch yourself,” he encouraged you, “I want you to cum while I’m fucking you.” 

“Shit, ok,” you replied, reaching down and running a finger in tiny circles over your clit. You loved how easily you could give and take control with him, how quickly and smoothly you could switch roles when you wanted to. It wasn’t just in bed, either, and you adored it. You adored him.

Your own hand combined with the steady thrusting of his dick was perfect. You weren’t going to last long, and judging by Sam’s shuddering breaths and muttered curses, your name sprinkled throughout, neither was he. 

“(Y/N), fuck,” he moaned, his abdominal muscles twitching and tensing. 

“I’m gonna cum,” you gasped as you felt the tightness coiling inside you, more, more, more– “Holy fuck, I’m gonna–” You released with a frantic cry of his name, your spine arching and your legs locking around his hips. You felt yourself contract around his dick, the stuttering of his strokes as he too reached his climax. 

He slowed eventually, coming to a stop as the tremors receded from your body and your brain returned to your head. You were spent, content to lie there with his warm, comforting weight on top of you until the world stopped turning. 

He rolled off you, peeling off the condom and tying it neatly before tossing it to the floor to be disposed of later. You turned to face him, your head resting on his bicep, his other arm draped over your side. His hand stroked your back, soft and loving. 

You smiled as you reached up, sweeping the hair from his face. “You good?” you murmured, cupping his cheek gently. 

He nodded, leaning forward to kiss you softly. You reciprocated, then stretched up and placed a kiss on his forehead. 

“How about you?” he asked. 

“I’m great.” Then you sighed, your thumb stroking tiny arcs across the curve of his cheekbone. “You’re so beautiful,” you whispered. 

“Look at you,” he answered. “You’re so beautiful.”  

You closed the few inches of space between you, pressing your lips to his. “I really do love you,” you said as you pulled away. “So much.” 

He smiled. “I know, I love you too. More than anything.” 

You went to kiss him again, but his phone buzzed and you froze. He groped for it blindly, frowning. You’d both learnt the hard way that if his phone went off and Dean wasn’t with you, it was best to check it. 

Sam snorted, flipping it around for you to see. 

The text, from Dean, was two sentences. “Back in 1/2 hour. Get decent.” 

“Screw you, Dean.” 

Sam laughed, tossing the phone to the side. “I guess we’ve got half an hour.” 

“I’m taking a shower then,” you said. “I saw a vending machine, like, right outside, and I really want a soda right now.” 

“I’ll get you a soda if you let me take the shower with you?” 

“Deal.” You held out your hand as if to shake on it, but he kissed it instead. Yeah, “gentleman” was definitely high up on that list. 

[saints-who-never-existed]

Episode Eight: Random Rewatch Observations

1. I don’t think it’s ever really 100% certain is it, how deliberate Hodgson’s actions are at the beginning of this episode or how closely in cahoots he might already be with Hickey? I notice right after they all leave the tent that the first person he seems to go to is Le Vesconte though, so I have to wonder if he is just looking for comfort and advice or if he’s peddling the same scaremongering story he does later to Little…?

2. I also wonder if Hickey mispronouncing the word ‘Netsilik’ is deliberate too? Like, is it just a random slip of the tongue or could it be saying more about how Hickey’s just bullshitting his way along while still not really knowing what he’s talking about?

3. He also pointedly doesn’t refer to Jopson as Lieutenant, disrespectful little knobhead…

4. Speaking of disrespectful knobheads, I’ll still never get over how horribly Crozier treats Little in this episode, threatening him with a flogging just for asking a simple question! The fact of the matter is that at that stage, no one but Hickey has any real idea of what’s actually happened, not even Crozier himself. He can’t possibly know for sure until he goes to see the whole sorry scene for himself and in the meantime, bolstering the perimeter is a perfectly reasonable plan.

Surely it would be better to give a timely, controlled order to strengthen that perimeter with your most trustworthy guys in order to make the rest of the men feel calmer, more secure, and less inclined to go off the rails, than to leave the whole camp in panic and confusion, not knowing what the hell is happening, and so jumping at the chance to feel like they’re doing something about it all?

That’s what it’s all about really – timing! Yes, it is a mistake for Little to give the order to arm the men when he does but it’s only a mistake because by that time they’re all too riled up to give up their arms or listen to reason. Again, if they had armed some trustworthy men in a calm and controlled way back when Little first suggested it, if Crozier has only bloody listened to him, then I firmly believe the situation could have been improved massively.  

5. That’s not a comforting arm-pat Blanky gives Little, btw, that’s actually a full-on tit-grab and I am here for it.

6. Oh God you can see how fucked Fitzjames is already in that tent and how he just about manages to hide it until he’s alone. As soon as Little passes him you can see him finally allow himself a grimace of pain when he knows no one can see.

7. Just noticed the neat little detail of a pair of crutches hanging from a beam in the medical tent – shows again the importance of efficiency and preparedness and using ever available inch of space.

8. Oh fuck, the wee Netsilik girl has Irving’s telescope/spyglass right by her side! Can’t you just imagine her having a whale of a time with it right before all the horror kicked off? Gut-wrenching!

9. Also, cannot emphasise enough that Irving would’ve been their friend. Like, none of them are really in their right minds at this stage but those like Little and Hodgson who would have been closest to him would of course be feeling the loss most, and you can see how it influences their decision-making.

Just imagine if your own best friend and co-worker was brutally murdered one day and not only did you have to carry on with your day and carry on working, but you were also berated publicly by your shitty boss then forced to watch as your pal’s already-defiled body was dissected further right in front of you. You’d be a mess too!

10. “Choose men we can trust…” – Aye, you could have done that a few hours ago, Franky-boy, and potentially avoided a whole mess of bullshit!

11. Oh God don’t put De Voeux in charge of anything!

12. Shout out to the Triumvirate of Toms! Jopson taking charge straight away and getting shit done like the brilliant Lieutenant he is. Blanky outrunning Tuunbaq on a wooden leg and continuing not to give a single fuck. And Hartnell, once again ready to step up and help, to defend his mates without a single second thought, even if he has to face down a charging Tuunbaq to do it. Big fan of that little concentrating blinky face he does too – top notch stuff.

13. Good Christ Fitzjames with the rockets is just incredible. That look on his face! The focus and fury and determination in that little snarl! Outstanding! And it also strikes me that this is a perfect instance of him doing an amazing thing without the intention of being seen. He’s invisible in the fog, just like everyone else, and he’s still going all out doing what needs to be done. We know it’s not just vanity with him, that he’s a genuinely good and heroic man, even if he doesn’t realise it himself, but we see more clearly than ever that that’s really not what it’s about here specifically. There just can’t be any vanity in the face of something like Tuunbaq.

14. Pretty sure that’s a diving helmet patch on Collin’s jumper right before Tuunbaq gets him which is just a whole other level of heart-breaking. I wonder if he sewed it on there himself back when he was still excited about being a pilgrim to the deeps…

[inkyquince]

omg i am so with u on the “what if reader was short and adorable and sooo much smaller than (insert character)” like what about reader who is tall and is batshit crazy and is a masochist !!!!! what about us!!!!!!!!

okay, okay, okay. let me explain this theory i have using hit smash dark romantic comedy, NBC's Hannibal, and somewhat, the extended Hannibal books.

Okay so, all fannibals know that Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter are the main romantic pairing. They're in love. Murder Husbands was said IN the show, that's not a thing the fandom made up. Anyway-

A HUGE reason I adore Hannibal and the fandom is that... Bedelia should be Hannibal's love interest or obsession, in the same way the slasher fandom's usual Y/N is small petite and adorable and shit.

She is his perfect equal (kinda). She is put together, she is smart, she is beautiful, she is polite, she is a fellow psychiatrist. Hell, Bedelia was changed from an old woman in the earlier drafts to the mindblowing Gillian Anderson.

By all reason, she should be the one Hannibal is in love with.

She isn't.

Directly opposite of Bedelia, is Will Graham.

He is SO me-core. He is a rude, sweaty, sarcastic, dog dad. He is disturbed and twitchy and bitchy. He is autistic with an empathy disorder.

And Hannibal has many scenes where that man is staring at Will's ass. That man is so in love. The way he looks at that depressed homicidal fucker is beautiful. Just look at Tobias Budge's last episode. Look at how miserable he is in Europe with Bedelia while pining for Will. Yes, pining is a word the show uses, not me. He KILLS another man because he tried to peek behind the curtain like Will did.

And finally, we have Hannibal Lecter's book romantic partner, Clarice. Shout out, Clary. Bad bitch, redhead, and somehow Hannibal is the only man you can even like when you read her books, cuz every other guy is a gross asshole.

So, one one side, Bedelia, on the otherside, Will and in the middle, Clarice.

For a lot of slashers, it feels like... They'd enjoy the Will Graham of love interests. The unhinged. The weird. Like Chucky, Tiffany is the only woman for him (I COULD TREAT HER BETTER).

So, on a range of reader inserts there is the Bedelia's. The ones that SHOULD hold their interest, like Greta in The Boy. Pretty and smol and adorable and oh my god girlies. The one that in practise, would be their lil obsession.

Then we get reader insert Clarice. The understanding, the bad bitch, the one who hears the lambs screaming. In between socially acceptable and unhinged. God I love Clarice. I play remothered and kiss the screen. Takes time to become. Maybe its a bit of stockholm, or Hanni's extra finger is just that good at fingering. (i cannot emphasise enough how much i love Clarice. i legit hate fanfic that try to cast her as a basic bitch. god, she was like my major crush for years.)

Then.... Willy. ehe

The one, you can fully understand and fits too well. These two men SHOW to enjoy each other's company. Hannibal excuses SO much of Will Graham's fucking bullshit because Will Graham is such a BITCH AND I LOVE HIM. Bursting in, throwing his coat, saying he kissed Alana and the only thing Hannibal can focus on? Fucker got kissed. Next episode he sends a serial killer to her house. Get your own bad bitch to kiss, Alana. Hannibal killed people for being rude, or implying rudeness. Will is CONSTANTLY RUDE AND MEAN AND BITCHY and hannibal is kicking his feet.

So, take a slasher.

Let's say.... Ghostface. Shout out Billy and Stu, you guys would have loved... Gay porn? idk man.

Reader 1 is a perfect victim. Stays quiet, all uwu, and they get hard. Neat.

Reader 2 knows who they are. Just shrugs. They're enthused that you don't care and then they get hard. Brilliant. We love a morally grey reader.

Reader 3 is just unhinged. They're strange and weird and they stab back. They get hard. Stu, please, you don't have the blood to spare to get HARD RIGHT NOW-

Anyway, its how I categorise readers. They all somewhat make sense, but my favourite reader insert will be thjrd reader. The antithesis to the slasher. They SHOULDNT be into them, but THEY ARE, and thEY DON'T KNOW WHY.

Like, I love Hannibal because it was the first time we got a Will Graham, instead of a Greta. (also the fact this bitch was called Greta. WHO CALLS THEIR KID GRET0 who cares.)

Im not sure im explaining properly but I love a love interest that is an exception to the slasher. They dont fit in their world, but because of that, its sexy.

Also, the reader being a mess. Its why i love fallen hero rebirth, you can play such a messy villain that everyone still gets hard for. Will Graham was such a breath of fresh air, he's rumpled, he's a bitch, he's tired, his brain is on fire. But Hannibal still wanted to smash, in more than one way.

I fucking love unhinged readers, more than the cute little readers who are 4'11, cant reach shelves and always wear snug weedle jumpers. Like shout out if you are that, you're adorable, but my brain wants to see if i can knock you down like bowling pins. I will read a thing where the male reader jumps on The Collector's back and starts biting and be like omf so me vibes.

Weird bitches needs more weird bitches. And Will Graham once had a weird hallucination he was having a fivesome with hannibal alana margot and a w*ndigo, which is such a weird girl vibe