#feel free to do it if you see it on your dash!!

[wearysparrows]

Chariot

ao3/masterlist

Summary: Caleb fingers you in his car, but you’re interrupted by a phone call. It doesn’t seem to deter him much, though.

cw: female reader, reader is mc, vaginal fingering, grinding, pseudo-incest, caleb referring to himself as your brother, porn with feelings, light spanking, caleb being talkative because he's caleb, sex while on the phone, Zayne gets caught in the crossfire, not beta read, 5K

“You still act frugal, but your Colonel’s salary must be pretty cushy if this is what you drive.”

You sat, arms crossed, in the passenger’s seat of Caleb’s car. It didn’t fit your childhood image of him at all – freckled skin and a bright smile, hands that were tanned and deft at breathing life back into long dead machinery. Caleb had turned more than one beater into something functional enough to drive you around in. He did it for fun. A friend's car that needed work was somehow always in the lot, or something Caleb had miraculously turned drivable in his precious free time. The black interior of the Lamborghini, with its blue backlighting, felt cold, sterile. This was Colonel Xia’s vehicle, not Caleb’s car. Caleb wouldn’t drive something like this. Not your Caleb. Together, you sat parked in an empty lot, one that overlooked the bustling nighttime lights of Skyhaven below. A dry summer wind buffeted the outside of the car, unable to touch you. Caleb turned his face toward you in the dark, eyes illuminated by the cool lights on the dash. It gave you the impression of light bouncing off the dark, untouched gems of a cave. Far away. A vein that couldn’t be mined.

“It’s not an act, baby. I still am frugal. Besides, my Colonel’s salary lets me spoil you –  just like I always wanted to. And the car lets me take you places. You hate it that much?”

His elbow was resting on the console, supporting his weight. His desire to hear the truth of your opinion was evident in his tone. Caleb never wanted you to lie to him, even if it hurt. You dragged the pad of your index finger over his knuckle bones – or rather, the plating that had replaced his knuckle bones – watching as it rose and fell over them. The paneling was scratched here and there, as if it had taken numerous beatings. Things we wouldn’t tell you of. His fingers twitched under your touch. You wondered if it was a reflex, a remnant of when the arm still boasted flesh on its outside. You knew he couldn’t feel the contact. Your heart ached dully for him, filling up the space between your diaphragm and lungs. You would have shared his pain, if you could. You wanted the same pain. The same everything. Two of everything. Always.

“You make it sound like everything you do is for me. It’s not that I hate it. It’s just not you. And there’s this huge divider between us,” you gestured to the console, which was stupidly large, and felt like a wall to keep Caleb out. Or maybe one to keep you in.

 “Besides, if I said I hated it, would you really get rid of it?”

Caleb reached for your hand that was playing with his fingers, and interlaced yours with his own. The metallic chill of his touch made gooseflesh rise along the skin of your forearm. The certainty of its steel had become something that grounded you.

“It doesn’t just sound that way. It is that way.”

Caleb was quiet for a moment before continuing, holding your hand, a peculiar stillness over him, as if considering the latter half of your statement. 

“If it’s the distance that bothers you,” his thumb stroked the top of your hand, tracing the valleys between your metacarpals.

“We can close it. You just have to give me the OK.”

With how Caleb had been acting after his return, you didn’t doubt the seriousness of his statement. When you came too close, he embraced you, but warned you he wouldn’t let you off the hook if you kept going – even if you claimed it was only on a whim. Your hands could only roam so far.

I can’t promise I’ll keep my cool whenever you do that. So don’t go any further.

You wanted to see Caleb lose his cool. You wanted to see it again. 

“OK, Colonel. Enlighten me. How will you close this big distance between us in your fancy car?”

You only had a moment to catch the wry smile that crossed over Caleb’s face before you were suddenly being lifted from your seat, weightless, the blue fractals of his evol reflecting in the lights from the dash. Its sound was all too familiar, a low hum, like the air was alive with its energy. An involuntary sound of surprise escaped you, and you were deposited neatly astride Caleb’s lap. While he had been commandeering the very gravity around your body, defying laws that everyone else had to adhere to, he had adjusted the back of his seat so he was leaning back, giving you more clearance to sit on top of him. Your skirt had hiked up around your thighs, and Caleb adjusted it back down your legs, eyes still on your face. His fingers against your skin sent hot energy skittering down your spine. You wanted them inside you, all over you.

“We’ve closed the distance. Physically speaking, anyway.” 

His tone was lighthearted, but laced with something else you couldn’t quite place. Not quite hope. Closer to resignation. His hands hovered around your calves, like he couldn’t decide on where to put them, before landing on the lower half of your thighs. Both big. One warm, one cold.

“I like the car a bit better from this angle. Though I’m still not wholly convinced.”

You looked into his face as you spoke, ignoring the interior of the car. He did look good from this angle, underneath you. He looked good from any angle. There was a reason he was unfathomably popular growing up. He seemed to have shed all of it, caging himself in his singular need for your affection. You reached out to his face, and pinched his nose between your index finger and thumb. He scrunched his face up in response, wiggling his nose, before you let him go. 

“What, you’re not satisfied with my nose, either? I’m not sure I can replace it as easily as the car, pipsqueak.”

His fingers played with the hem of your skirt, slipping underneath it. His thumbs stroked your bare skin. Forbidden heat clawed its way into your stomach. You gave him an excuse for wanting to touch his face, to make it yours.

“I’m not dissatisfied with it. I just own the air.”

Caleb paused, and a little smile replaced his curious look. His eyes crinkled up at the corners. His gaze on yours was full of a barely restrained burning intensity. 

“You own me, too.”

His casual admission of ownership left you unable to find words. Your skin prickled where the calloused pads of his fingers touched your bare skin. It was too much, not enough. He was always toeing the line, testing the waters, pulling away when he saw any hint of indecision on your face. You passed your hand over the dog tags that sat against his chest, and they clinked softly under your touch. Cold, like his right hand on your leg. You had insisted he wear it in its true form, without the false skin, and he had readily complied, despite his discomfort. You preferred his true self, even if he didn’t. Your Caleb was perfectly flawed. His eyes followed the movement of your fingers as you tangled them in his necklace. He spoke gently, in that tone colored with nostalgia he often used when he recalled memories of your shared childhood – both the good and the bad. 

“You know, when you were really little, you saw a drawing of Apollo driving his chariot of the sun across the sky in a picture book I was reading to you. You asked me if I’d be able to do the same one day, when I could fly. If I could pull the sun across the sky, led by white horses. I told you I’d do my best to live up to your image of me. So I’ve got all kinds of chariots for you. This is just one. If you don’t like it, I’ll get you another. Just tell me what kind you want.”

You heard the ring of your brother’s voice, the boy you had grown up with. The one who had taken you to the arcade, paid with his allowance. He cheated with his evol to win you toys when he couldn’t win by honest means.

Just tell me which one you want, and I’ll get it for you. I’ll get them all.

You studied Caleb’s earnest face in the dim light. The soft swoop of his hair over his brow, which cast dark shadows on his eyes that betrayed his depth of feeling, and kept it locked tight, all at once. The perfect slope of his nose, freckles given by the kiss of the sun. His full lips, chapped and bitten. Even in the heaviness of the night, he was still somehow radiant. The dark space of the car couldn’t contain him. You felt yourself soften towards him, your earlier irritation at his show of being the Colonel melting under his true light. 

“I guess being the Colonel of the Far Space Fleet is about as close as you can get to driving the sun across the sky. In the modern day, anyway.” 

Caleb chuckled, a soft, boyish exhale of air. He looked up at you with adoration so clear that it made something twist hotly in your chest. It was so different from the face he had worn the first time you had seen him again. That horrible mask of indifference. That damned uniform. So divorced from the image of your Caleb that you had doubted it was really him. But it was him. A side he had never shown to you. The two Calebs spread each other's gore across the sky, curling and reaching as blood did in water.

“That almost sounded like a compliment, pretty girl. Is the sun going to rise in the west tomorrow?”

Your mind conjured the image of Caleb lashing the sun across the sky in the west, forcing it to act the opposite of its nature. If anyone could do it – it was Caleb. Nothing seemed beyond him, even now. He had come back from the dead, after all. The cosmos no longer seemed such a tall order. Not even stars could return from the land of the departed. They only left black holes behind in their wake. You fanned one hand thoughtfully across his chest, feeling his heartbeat. It quickened, then stilled, then quickened again.

“I guess that’s up to you, isn’t it?”

Caleb grinned in response to your question, a real smile, showing you his rows of white teeth. He had canines that were just slightly longer than usual, one of which was just a little crooked. You had poked at them with your fingertips as a child, pressing them deeply into your skin, and watched the marks they left with unbridled curiosity. The pain was a kind you liked, because it had come from him. He had let you explore his mouth with your fingers, his tongue chasing behind them. He had done the same to you. Once, he had stroked the back of your tongue a little too hard, and you gagged on his fingers. His eyes had gone wide, and the game had ended when Caleb disappeared in his room for the rest of the day, leaving you wondering what you had done wrong.

You wanted to lick the inside of his mouth, to press your tongue against his. The direction of your gaze didn’t go unnoticed.

“Interested in my mouth?”

His hand rose to your face, thumb parting your lips, just like he used to. You licked at it with the flat of your tongue, and heard him inhale sharply through his nose in response.

“Yeah. It looks much better when you’re not talking so much, though.”

Caleb pulled you down to him, so that you were chest to chest. His voice was soft and sweet in your ear. He was hard underneath you. He had been for some time. You had both been ignoring it. It was the standard between you, something that was never discussed. It just was.

“Really? But I was gettin’ the impression you liked talking to me. You started calling me every day, again. You text me all the time, too. You even send me cute pictures of yourself. I especially liked the one where–”

You put a hand over his mouth, not wanting to hear him tell the truth of how you had teased him over text. Your elbow was resting on his chest in order to do so, and his dog tags dug painfully into the bones of your arm.

“Shut up, Caleb.”

His voice was muffled from behind your hand. You could feel the natural wetness of his breath against the skin of your palm as he spoke.

“Do you really want me to? Or are you just sayin’ that because you’re embarrassed? It’s just me. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.”

You heard the unspoken words behind his statement. Caleb had already seen every part of you. He had seen more of you than people who had been inside of you. He had wiped your tears, your snot, your vomit. Your blood. None of it fazed him. He wanted it. You sat back so that you were sitting on his thighs. Your hands hovered over his belt, tugging on it, but not undoing it. Caleb watched, gaze snapping between your hands and your face. Even in the low light, you could see the new flush that colored his ears and cheeks.

“You’re making me want to push my luck, baby. Is this a test of my self control?”

You stuck your thumb underneath the portion of his belt that was held down by the buckle.

“And if it is?”

Caleb took a breath through his mouth, and his words came out a strained rasp.

“Then I’d ask if you want me to pass with flying colors,”

His hand wrapped a firm grip around your wrist, one you couldn’t deny, and guided it to press against his cock through his cargos. Even through the layers of fabric, he felt so impossibly warm.

“Or fail miserably. ” 

You felt yourself warm from your chest, head becoming so hot so quickly that you felt a wave of lightheadedness. You had seen and felt Caleb hard under your eyes and ass many times – but he had never once made a move to acknowledge it. Seeing your hand against the outline of him sent a new kind thrill racing through you. You had imagined touching him like this more times than you could count. Putting him in your mouth. Responding to his interest. But you couldn’t, then. Not if he didn’t acknowledge his want. Now, things were different. Caleb wasn’t just a boy anymore. He wasn’t the king of the playground, the star of his highschool basketball team, nor the Valedictorian of his DAA class. He was a man. A man who wanted you. Openly.

“I’d like to see you fail at something, for once.” 

You removed your hand from his grip, prying his fingers from your wrist, and worked his belt buckle open. The jingle of the metal suddenly seemed ridiculously loud in the small space of the car’s interior to your ears. When it was free, you pulled his zipper down, down. Your fingers felt strange, weak. Like you couldn’t quite get enough power in them to do what you wanted to do. The zipper caught, more than once. You heard Caleb’s breaths coming quickly through his nose, and felt more than saw the heat of his gaze on you as you worked. He made no motion to assist you – either enjoying your struggle or holding himself back – you couldn’t be sure. Maybe it was both. 

Caleb’s hands were around your waist, then, and he lifted you back into his lap, setting you squarely over his cock. The only barrier between you was that of your underwear and his boxers. He had shucked his jeans further down his legs with his evol. His grip on your waist was so tight that it was nearly painful, pressing into your bones, and he used it as leverage to roll his hips up into yours. Being with him like this – it was surreal. So much familiar, and so much was so strange. Like a shared dream. There was no hiding how wet you were when you pressed up against him like this. His eyes looked so dark that they were nearly black, the deep lilac of them nearly erased by his pupils. His thumbs lifted the hem of your skirt, hiking it up over your hips, and he looked down between your legs for the first time, as if he was finally given permission.

“Fuck,” he breathed.

You felt him twitch underneath you. Once, twice.

“Are these the ones I bought for you?” 

Your mind, having been emptied of everything except for the feeling of his newfound closeness, took a moment to recall what he was talking about. You looked down at the place where he was touching you, thumbs digging pleasantly into the muscles of your hips. It was, in fact, not the usual article. Being a hunter, it wasn’t exactly comfortable to wear anything that was less than practical most of the time. But today was your day off – and you had opted to change into a pair that Caleb had supplied in the room he had given you at his house. (At the time, you had tried not to let your mind wander as to why he had supplied so many pairs in both your size and the brands you liked. But you knew Caleb. You had your suspicions – just more things you didn’t acknowledge.) You managed a nod. You hardly managed to feel embarrassed about it, though. He made it so easy to do as he wanted, so comfortable.  Even when you were still so angry with him – because everything he did benefitted you.

Caleb keened in response, a low whine in his throat, and the flat of his palm suddenly met your ass with a soft smack. The feeling went straight between your legs. It was something you hadn’t even known you wanted from him. Now, you suddenly wanted more.

“You’re so cute. Lift up. Hold yourself over me.”

You did as he asked, too caught in the heat of the moment to argue, bracing yourself by gripping the sides of the driver's seat, hovering over him with your knees on either side of his lap. You were dimly aware that he could have lifted you with his evol, but he was making you work for it, instead. It wasn’t exactly comfortable, but any reservations you had were quickly forgotten when you felt Caleb’s hands drift up the back of your thighs. He squeezed your ass, and smacked it again, like he just couldn’t help himself. It was harder than the first time, and stung more with the impression from the first still smarting. Your body tensed up all over in reaction to the impact, your breath leaving you through slightly parted lips.

“That’s my good girl.”

Before you could voice any kind of response to his praise, he was pulling your underwear to the side, his fingers finding you slick and ready for him. One and then two were inside you, giving you hardly any time to prepare or adjust. He was so eager. It was hard to believe the wet sounds were coming from his fingers inside of you. You shifted your hips back against his hand. Caleb was breathing open-mouthed underneath you, eyes laser focused on your face, watching your responses, drinking them in. His fingers were so much longer than your own, and touched you in places you couldn’t feel without him. 

“I’m inside of you, baby. Holy shit. You’re so wet. I’m the only one you get like this for, right? No one else but me. C’mon, tell me.”

It was hard to formulate a coherent thought when he was giving his all to thoroughly fucking you open with his fingers. You opened your mouth, willing at least the admittance of the truth to come out. Yes, he was the only one. Even when you had been with other men, you had searched for Caleb in the downturn of their eyes, in the largeness in their build, in the freckles on their faces, in the softness of their hair. You had never wanted anyone else. No one else could get you this worked up with just a few words and a simple touch. Caleb was the only one who aroused such strong emotion in you – anger, hatred, arousal. Love.

Just as you found your voice in the depths of your throat, the sound of your phone ringing from the console where you had placed it rudely interrupted. It was the same ringtone Caleb had chosen for you years ago, when he had been fiddling with your phone without permission, messing with your settings. After he had died, you hadn’t the heart to change it. It would have been like erasing one of his last impacts on your life. Caleb’s fingers inside you hardly paused, and you watched, stupefied, as his evol brought your phone towards you. You both looked at the caller ID at the same time. 

Zayne’s name illuminated the screen.

You saw a strange expression flicker over Caleb’s face as you turned back to him, before he schooled it into an easy smile. He pressed his fingers inside of you, as deep as they would go.

“Answer it.”

You gawked at him. His fingers curled inside of you. There was no way you could answer the phone right now. Let alone to talk to your doctor, your childhood friend. Why did he have to choose now, of all times, to call? Zayne never called. Why now?

“Caleb–”

He shook his head, eyes firm.

“If you won’t, I will. Put it on speaker.”

His voice was hard. It was the same one he used on you when you were kids, when you knew you had no other choice but to obey him. Usually for your own good. You were still hovering over Caleb’s body, and your arms were beginning to ache with the effort of holding yourself up. You pressed answer, and Caleb’s evol oh-so-kindly held the phone up to your face. Zayne’s voice came from the other end of the line, distant but palpable with underlying concern, even in his singular word.

“Hello?”

You did your best to collect yourself, while Caleb seemed to pay your struggle no mind. He only worked to bring you closer to the edge. Your thighs began to shake, your muscles protesting the position. 

“Zayne? Is everything okay?”

Your voice wavered, but you managed. Caleb palmed himself with his right hand as you spoke, a loud shuffling of fabric.

“Everything’s alright. I saw you were in Skyhaven – and in a fairly isolated area. I…was concerned.”

He sounded like he was choosing his words carefully, not asking you to reveal too much, nor revealing much about his own intentions. You were mid-wondering how the fuck Zanye knew where you were and why he had to call now, of all times, when you were at your worst, when it came back to you. You had shared your location with him when you had commandeered his unique skill set for an investigation just some weeks prior, deep into the mountains. You must have forgotten to turn it off. You didn’t have time to wonder why he was checking it after the fact. Guilt threatened to creep behind your eyes. You swallowed it away before answering.

“I’m…okay. I’m with a friend.”

Caleb’s movements inside of you became punishing in response to your words, pushing in and out, his thumb working your sensitive nerves. He smacked your ass again, and it was loud. You knew by the way he was acting that he wanted Zayne to hear what was happening. They weren’t exactly rivals during childhood – but Caleb had certainly seemed to see it that way. He made no effort to dampen the sounds he was eliciting from your body, not the slap of your skin, nor the wetness between your legs. You corrected yourself, hoping to soothe his anxieties, and implore him to give your body reprieve while you were on the damn phone.  

“I mean – I’m with Caleb.”

He was smiling underneath you, looking all too pleased with himself at your amendment. He cupped your breast through your shirt, squeezing it, rolling his fingers over the soft flesh there. His scent was everywhere around you. Clean laundry. A new day. Summer sun on skin. Freshly trimmed wheatgrass. It stuck in your throat pleasantly.

Zayne was quiet for a long moment. 

“Caleb? Your brother, Caleb?”

The reminder of just whose fingers were inside you caused you to clench around Caleb’s fingers in response. There was a flurry of movement, and Caleb shoved his boxers down without warning. You heard his cock slap heavily against his stomach as it sprang free. His fingers came out from inside of you, and one hand forced your hips down so that you were sitting directly on his cock, your underwear still pushed to the side. He wasn’t inside of you – just slipping wetly in between your legs. The other hand forced your head close to his mouth, fisting in the back of your hair, tugging. Your scalp prickled with pinpoints of lovely pain. His voice just above a harsh whisper in your ear. 

“That’s right. I’m your fucking brother. Are you going to tell him what you’re doing with your brother right now?”

Caleb repeated the word 'brother' with such vitriol that it was practically a snarl, rather than a word. The phone was still held aloft next to your face. 

“Y-yeah. My brother, Caleb. I’ll explain later, Zayne. I gotta…gotta go.”

There was another excruciatingly long silence. You would apologize later. Profusely. With excuses.

“Alright. As long as you’re safe.”

Zayne sounded wholly unconvinced, and like he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself short.

“Yeah.”

The phone dropped back onto the console with a dull thud, and you prayed upon every star that would listen Zayne had hung up of his own accord. Caleb dragged your face to his by your hair, his lips and teeth clacking into yours. He licked at the roof of your mouth, sucked your tongue, bit at your lips. Zayne’s words had set Caleb off, and his unresolved energy was practically radiating off of him in droves. His hand was on you again, pleasuring you, while bracing you by the hips with his other, sliding you up and down the length of his cock with barely controlled ardor. Your orgasm was upon you only seconds later, the anxiety of the phone call, the intensity of the situation, and the stimulation from both his cock and fingers were enough to crest you over the edge with a shuddering breath, inhaling the air from Caleb’s mouth into yours, the sweet taste of his breath your new reality.

Your arms finally gave up their valiant effort of holding you above Caleb, and you collapsed on top of him. His arms were instantly around you, his face pressed into the crook of your neck, sucking and biting at the sensitive skin there. He came from rutting against you with a catch of his breath in his throat and a stuttering groan, and you felt the pulses of his orgasm between you, his spill hot against your skin. The heave of his chest lifted you up and down, up and down, in time with his breath. You braced yourself against his chest with the flat of your palm, lifting yourself to look him in the face. He was still just as hard underneath you, despite having just finished. Caleb’s head followed your upward movements, and he licked a stray bead of sweat from your cheek, up the side of your face like a dog. The wetness left behind from his tongue felt cool in its absence. You smacked a fist against his chest as he lay back.

“You are the worst. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you?”

You couldn’t muster any real malice to bolster your words. Being with Caleb set your heart on edge and at ease, and he was the only one who could make your body feel as it just had. Caleb put the fingers that had just been inside of you in his mouth before answering your question, licking them clean of you. His free hand – the mechanical one – carded through your hair, brushing sweaty strands from your forehead. His expression was back into one of sweetness.

“Yeah, angel. I told you I’m the worst version of Caleb, didn’t I? I want to do all kinds of terrible things to you. Make sure you have everything you need. Everything you want. Be by your side. Wake up to you in the morning. Be inside of you. Keep you where no one else can find you. A world that’s just you and me.”

Caleb’s soft emphasis on the word terrible made it sound like he meant something else entirely. Like he was telling you his innermost, fervent dream. One that he had tried so hard for so long to make a reality. His hand cupped your face now, and you placed your own over it, nuzzling into the cool assuredness of the metal. Your voice came out barely a whisper.

“I must be the worst version of me, too. Maybe I want to hurt you more than you realize. Maybe I want you to suffer before you can have those things. Before you can give them to me.”

Caleb blinked up at you, and warmth spilled onto his face, into the ripening plums of his irises. Everything was reduced to him in that moment, and he was the pinpoint of the cosmos center as he spoke.

“Sufferin’ and pleasure – if they’re from you, they’re the same to me. Anything you give me, I’ll take it. I want it. If it’s from you, it can only be good.”

[chiisana-sukima]

Saw that you also wanted to be asked this and I’d love to here your thoughts too. Exact same ask: What’s your thoughts on the idea of Soulless Sam losing his inhibitions and so giving into his darkest desires, and sexually assaulting Dean (which is how the vampire turning scene is read). I often see this tied to the idea that because of the incestuous deal and Azazel’s blood, Sam’s tainted and has this inherent darkness, specifically playing around the idea Sam’s sexuality is dark and perverse, and he harbours these feelings towards Dean and desires to assault him but feels shame and guilt for it. But as Soulless Sam he doesn’t. This reading always felt a little weird and uncomfortable to me but I couldn’t put into words why

In terms of the canonicity component, I have nothing to add to what @aliusfrater said. In isolation, I do think it's fair to read that look in Live Free or Twihard as at least metaphorically sexual, but it's one camera shot with no dialogue doing an awful lot of work in 327 hours of television.

This reading always felt a little weird and uncomfortable to me but I couldn’t put into words why

This is the part I wanted to write about. It feels weird and uncomfortable because it's an especially volatile subcategory of rape fantasy presented using the structure and language of an academic argument.

I feel like I should disclaimer that rape fantasies are fine and normal (and among my personal faves) and that stories are meant to serve people, not vice versa, so I'm not complaining about either the content of these headcanons or their lack of support in the canon version of spn per se. What's frustrating is the way the meta format mixes together assertions of fact about the source material, assertions of fact about rl, and shit an OP made up out of thin air because they thought it was hot, and turns it all into an indiscriminate fact-y sounding stew.

No, actually. No he isn't and no it wouldn't.

Another part of the uncomfortable feeling, at least for me, is the way fandom does intimacy backwards. First we put our blorbos in Situations, then we talk about our favorite Situations and why we love them, then we talk about politics, and then if we really, really like each other, we might discuss the weather. And it's all done in public, often without direct communication.

Usually I love that for us, but sometimes it causes problems we don't have great protocols for solving. I feel super-uncomfortable scrolling past 'It makes a tragic kind of sense that a csa survivor would grow up to be a rapist' without adding 'speak for your own damn self', and I think that's entirely fair of me.

Butttt, I can also guess that an OP who looked at Sam having smoking hot consensual sex and thought 'looks like rape to me' probably has a reason. Maybe the reason is poor sex ed. Probably not.

(Another part of the problem: that 'probably not' was a lie for politeness' sake. I went to the OP's dash and I know they have a reason other than poor sex ed. But I'm not supposed to say that, or especially have guessed it beforehand, despite the fact that such experiences are incredibly common and isolating, and despite the fact that knowing that information makes the OP's error more sympathetic. Because we're supposed to be ashamed that we were victimized, and never speak of it again. So if I could be assed to follow social norms, we would now have two survivors of sexual violence arguing about sexual violence--though only indirectly with each other--and both pretending their only investment was detached academic concern for the sanctity of the canon of a stupid 2000s era ghost-hunting melodrama. Which we both probably like in large part for the exact reason we're not supposed to admit to. Nobody wins that fight but patriarchy).

And you know, ig the thing that's most murky, and therefore most uncomfortable of all for me personally, is how I feel about the fact that this is so obviously a Dean girl (gn) take about Sam. Idek why that's so clear or why I care. I actually really enjoy "soulless Sam, freed of his guilt and inhibitions, does evil sexual things to Dean" fics. One of my all-time favorite fics (Flying Weight by flesh) is in this genre and is even about the vampire bite in Twihard. And I can't always tell, nor do I ever even care, whether they're written by Sam fans or Dean fans. But the chances of a Sam girlie conceptualizing it all this specific way, with the Evil Desires from the csa/demon blood and the predatory (consensual) sex and all, and then writing it all down as a meta, idk man, it would just never happen. And I'm kinda icked out that a meta that posits Sam as a csa survivor also so clearly uses him as a cardboard prop.

And on the one hand, yeah, they're all barbie dolls and everything, so who cares. But on the other, I hope if I wanted to write a meta, for example, about Dean correctively raping Sam in the panic room as part of the demon blood cure, I would build a more careful frame around it. One where it was clear what aspects I thought were consistent with canon, what aspects I thought were plausible in a semi-analogous rl situation, and what ones I just thought were hot.

I was really mad at the OP of the post I took that screenshot up there from when I read the meta and I'm glad I managed to slow down enough to be way less of a douche about it than I initially wanted to be. Maybe this is still too much of a douche, idk. Anyway, ty nonny for giving me the opportunity to process it all.

[jmej]

wasnt tagged but thought it would be fun!

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

tag game 🤭

rules: color the sentence that's true about you

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

this is a whole lot of yellow lmfao

no pressure tags: @marthawrites @schniiipsel @aemonddtargaryen @aemondsbabe @adragonprinceswhore @arcielee @black-dread @lovelykhaleesiii @aemondsbabygirl @valeskafics @connorsui

[reginamillls]

I work hard on my icons is the thing, and I know other creators do as well, they're small edits but they're still edits

It's finding the perfect screen shot, its lighting and coloring and even more!

then we put them nicely onto a rebloggable post, give people different color options and shapes, throw in lil graphics to give it a certain flair

All. For. Fucking. Free.

the least you can do is like the post you take your icon from, the best thing you can do is reblog them

I stopped making icons for months because my posts would get like 13 notes (most of them likes) and yet I'd see the icon be used by more than 13 people - NONE OF WHICH LIKED OR REBLOGGED THE POSTS

I've even seen people take my icons (again who didn't like or reblog the original post) and edit them and use them for something else WITHOUT MY PERMISSION or give me credit

its exhausting, please support the content creators on this website

[lavendervirgos]

Tagged by @fantasiees and @heyy-its-kats

Last movie, last song, lock screen or either last photo or selfie taken 🩷

I love photographing random street art I see 😂

Thank you for tagging me, it's a lovely little game 🥰

Tagging (No pressure or expectations tho!): @yourdaddyfigure @primetime24-24 @jamdonuttz @corpseprxnce @silv3rclouds @spacxsbxtween @whatthefranks @softandsmooth

[sapphireswimming]

be ye warned: today I'm attempting to hit post limit (x2)

[blood-in-retroflex]

google: how does one tell people I don't celebrate without pretending to be jewish or a johovas witness?

[doodlingwren]

It's 2024 can we please stop saying it's normal to trace or copying an entire drawing and pretending it's 100% your work? Just bc you changed the character or added clothes on a base you found on pinterest it doesn't mean you created original art

[is-this-tf]

Is it TF?

TF, as in Transformation, is a concept that can mean quite a few things to many different people- and when depicted in art or media, usually consists of some sort of physical or psychological transformation of one thing into another, often including the contexts before or after such a change occurs. 

For the purposes of this blog, the assumed pretense that the TF or TF-adjacent content depicted in posts on this blog being nonsexual in this manner is considered the default, and will be treated or engaged with as such unless clarified otherwise, but there are plenty of ways those who engage in TF art can enjoy it! There are many who consider it a paraphilia for themselves and commonly enjoy it as a sexual theme (as explained and described very well in this comic here), but it is also quite common for people to enjoy it entirely nonsexually, as well- perhaps exploring it under a lens of gender, as a vessel or narrative device to communicate themes, or just liking it as an unrelated special interest... TF is fascinating and alluring concept in itself, regardless of the ways it can be enjoyed and explored.

I made this blog because I love it when I see people unintentionally making TF posts on tumblr. I feel like it happens a lot and I think it's really, really funny when it does, by accident or not. Feel free to tag me in posts or send in questions asking if something is TF, and I'll give my honest answer as an expert in the field myself. 

Don't forget, words to live by:

Primary tags: #this is tf, #this is tf art, #unintentional tf, #intentional tf, #definitely intentional tf, #not tf

Additionally: Now taking TF or Pass requests and suggestions, just for fun! Please just limit suggestions for this if you want to play to sending me an ask, for me to answer from my inbox rather than being tagged in posts. Linking posts in asks for this is fine, but please specify the character you are asking me to rate in the text of the ask as well. All posts related to this on this blog will be tagged #tf or pass.

[tomwambsgays]

Have you heard about the news with Nicholas Braun?

yup. it was all over twitter and i was so disappointed of him and i hate him for that. i hope everyone who was affected by his disgusting actions, especially those who are brave enough to come out and speak up, are doing better now.

personally though i will still continue watching succession because this is one of my favorite shows for years and i can't let one horrid man ruin that for me. it's going to be a weird couple of weeks and consuming this show wouldn't be as fun as before, especially as someone enjoys making art of greg and tomgreg in extension. but we move

[lokelokeloke]

random hcs abt the heart pirates (deranged smile)

(for the purpose of this post let's ignore the cramped anatomy of the usual submarine. i think it's also reasonable to do so outside of the post just to keep your sanity because... how did they fit Jean in there???)

Okay let's start with Shachi,,, he's the 100% the cook. he has a whole bookshelf and a half worth of cooking books spread across his own room and the cafeteria, he may have a slight obsession with marine life (you wouldn't guess this guy's favorite animal /s) and he LOVES giving people gifts. i'm saying like he's obsessed with holidays and peoples' birthdays because he always has a great idea for what they might like and what he can buy.

Now for Shachi's all-time bestie Penguin. this guy isn't even half as good at cooking as Shachi is but he will suffice is the other's out of commission. sometimes he will help with the simpler things in the kitchen but generally Shachi dislikes it when people are in his way when he's trying to cook. Pen's specialization is kind of hard to pinpoint, since he bounces around a lot. Most often he's seen doing martial arts or working as a boatswain, more specifically supervising all of the storages and doing some checkups on the submarine. I also like to think that he enjoys arts and crafts such as woodworking or the more challenging puzzles.

Girl time!!! Ikkaku!!! She is the ship's mechanic PERIOD. She is great with tools and will humble ANY man that tries to tell her she's not. She has the nerves of steel (given that she has to deal with twenty men every single day). She loves styling people's hair. She even tried to teach it to others on the crew but only Clione, Penguin, and most surprisingly Jean picked it up. She often helps Hakugan at the helm.

[causalitylinked]

WHICH RAGE LANGUAGE ARE YOU?

open the floodgates.

your frustration turns into tears quickly. the strength of your fury is so potent that it sets off the waterworks out of pure rage. you hate it, because whoever's pissed you off thinks it's funny, like you're not tough and you can't defend yourself. you can, you just need to get through the haze of emotions first.

TAGGED BY: @ofliminalities​ ( thank you for the mention! <3333 perhaps one day, i’ll try to be more active. )

TAGGING: @heraid / @hembralfa / @spiritpyro ( hayate and rokuro! ) / @lastgenesis​ / @fractalle / @aaternum / @crimsontroupe ( equinox ) and whoever else would like to do this!

[madseance]

I know people like to live-thread their reactions to things they're watching, but I'd like to gently suggest you don't do that on Tumblr as it's very unsuited to that format. Because obviously, every addition to the post goes onto your followers' dashes as a new instance of the post; so if you're reacting every thirty seconds, that gets to be... a bit much.

Something like that works better on Twitter (uh, assuming Twitter's still a thing) or as a message thread to a friend. But if you really want to post that to Tumblr, maybe save it all up till the end of an episode and make one post? Just a suggestion.

[the-composer]

sorrryyyy joshua is such a nosey invasive antagonistic (but grade A) bitch

[firawren]

Which of these would you rather see on your dash?

Hey @staff. This is a perfect example of why collapsed reblogs is such a bad idea. Seeing the full thread, you go like this: 😮 ooh, that's cool 😀 "they're free," hehe! 🤣 "16 cents," perfection!!

I have achieved joy, I feel positive feelings toward Tumblr, I want to engage, I want to stay, my eyeballs land on more ads, you make more money, everyone wins! 🎉

Seeing the collapsed thread, you go like this:

😮 ooh, that's cool 😐 "16 cents"? yes, that's literally what the pic shows, not sure why you felt the need to say that

There is no motivation for me to uncollapse the reblog chain—it looks like a boring conversation about the denominations of coins. And even if I do uncollapse it, you've ruined the joke by showing me the punchline before the setup. I am sad, Tumblr is boring, I go elsewhere to entertain myself, I see less ads, you make less money, everyone loses. 😥

Reblog chains are the best thing about Tumblr. They are your unique super power. They are the thing that makes people screenshot Tumblr and share it around. Why on earth would you kneecap them??

I don't know exactly how you plan to implement this. Give people the option to keep them collapsed if there truly are people who are annoyed by how long they can get (you already have a version of this feature), but don't collapse them for everyone or new users by default. Please. It will make Tumblr so much more boring.

[amtrak12]

AO3 Wrapped for 2023!

I got tagged by @purlturtle for this, so thank you! :D Let's see how I did on fics in 2023.

Overall Stats:

Works Published: 2 - because a Pushing Daisies snippet snuck in there lol

Word Count: 92,498

Kudos: 475

Hits: 14,729

Bookmarks: 161 (99 public and it's killing me ahaha I just want a nice round number again D:)

Subscriptions: 285

(All of those stats are heavily, heavily skewed towards one fic over the other as you'll see below :P)

Individual Stats:

Most Popular by Kudos: Can We Keep Her, my Lucifer S3 time travelling toddler rewrite at 471 kudos. (Out of my 475 total for the year LMAO. I told you the stats are skewed!)

Most hits: Can We Keep Her (Lucifer) again with 14,688 hits. Listen I really only wrote one fic this year. The Pushing Daisies one barely counts.

Longest: Can We Keep Her (Lucifer) at 92,307 words published as of today and still growing. Fun fact: This is also my longest fic ever published! So it would've won this category in any year.

Shortest: Three Lifetimes (Pushing Daisies) at 191 words. I did have other one shot ideas after my rewatch but I had to save my energy for the Lucifer WIP.

Most Comments: SHOCKINGLY (not), it's Can We Keep Her (Lucifer) with 186 comment threads/415 total comments. My greatest wish when this fic is all said and done is to hit 1000 total comments because I'll never be able to hit that in any other fandom I could ever be in for the rest of my life. And if it does turn out to be 30 chapters long (or more!), then I'm actually on pace to achieve it :')

(And this is where I go more into fic recs than talking about my own fics, because I did not write (or read tbh) enough to have proper answers for this section.)

Fics that made me cry:

Writing: The [redacted] scene for Can We Keep Her that I've played a million times in my head but haven't actually written yet cause I'm only halfway through the story. Maybe also the time travel reveal scene which gets posted in January, but that's lived in my head for so long, I can no longer tell what feelings it evokes.

Reading: never have I ever by jrrmint (Lucifer). S4 Chloe/Lucifer smut. It doesn't make me cry, but it does make me ache because it's Season 4, aka the angstiest season, and this fic makes it even messier than canon was which is just beautiful in the 'I have a history of loving soap operas' way. :D :D It also taught me cheating is a trope I will eat up with a goddamn spoon for this ship. Like HOLY SHIT! Eve, I love you, babe, but I need more Chloe/Lucifer S4 cheating fic pronto! O_O

(NOT S3 cheating fic. It does not work as well, because the Chloe/Pierce relationship was already a stupid decision -- by both the writers and the character -- so let's not add even more stupid decisions on top of it. However, everybody's already hitting rock bottom in S4 (and at different times too!) so that's why the cheating trope works so deliciously there.)

Fics that made me smile:

Writing: The opening scene to chapter 7 in Can We Keep Her still makes me laugh so much. Rory's manipulative little "My heart hurts :(" ploy absolutely kills me, plus all the other 'Day 2 of a baby angel' chaos that's happening. Also all of chapter 9 with the Deckerstar family domestics of putting Trixie and Rory to bed. A++ me. Makes me grin everytime.

Reading: If He's a Tramp (He's a Good One) by maybemalapert (laconicsims) -- Lucifer joins Chloe and Trixie on a trip to Disneyland, set (and written) in early S2. I'm absolutely loving reading the Lucifer fics in chronological order/reverse page order on AO3 since I came to the show after the entire thing aired. And this little one shot was wonderful <3

Group Activities:

Gifts: No gifts given or received this year.

Collaborations: I did do something here, though! I was a beta reader in the Bering and Wells Big Bang event. :) I helped with Dawn of the Dragonborn: Heart of a Hero, Heart of a Predator, Heart of Dovahkiin which was written by Rinari7. Not finished yet, but hopefully someday! Because the outline was really detailed and incredible. So, so, so fun AU even if you know very little about Skyrim (like me)!

Events: Also the Bering and Wells Big Bang. I still absolutely could never be a writer for such an event because I get too stressed and freeze whenever I try. But I really enjoyed being a beta reader! Less pressure lol