#fuck glee

[bizarrelittlemew]

Stede is a cool pirate 😌 (x)

[justgleekout]

I mean… literally… with this pic going round, how could I not?

[newwavesylviaplath]

idk who this nick chavez guy is but im pissed off we never got to see evan peters as a sexy priest

[fadeintoyou1993]

RACHEL & SANTANA GLEE | 3.08

[achaotichuman]

Cassian strikes me as the kind of guy who would physically overpower Nesta in order to cake her face at their wedding.

[actuallyredrobin]

alright. i can’t hold my silence any longer. i’m going to say it.

when Nightwing drives the batmobile he plays the glee cover of somebody that i used to know

every. damn. time.

[twopercentboy]

no, y'know what? as much as Josh's conversation with Buck in e6 was important, and he made some good points, I take strong issue with the qualifiers of "pre-Glee" and "post-Glee" world. that is the most insane thing to use as an indicator of queer acceptance, and at it's core, it's Ryan Murphy giving himself way too much credit.

and even if we look at it from outside the meta and from a character perspective, it's stupid! like, sure, I can understand that Josh was probably going for a more light hearted thing to use as an indicator, but Glee is so irrelevant in this scenario, especially when you consider that we're talking about Tommy in this specific context.

we know that right before season 1 takes place Tommy was only just starting to accept himself. we know right before season 1 he just ended his years long relationship with Abby. we also know that the seasons take place roughly at the time of premiere, so season 1 is set in 2018. that is already 3 years "post Glee"—even more if we go from initial release date—so this qualifier is already incredibly irrelevant to Tommy's story and the point Josh was trying to make. Not only that, but we know Tommy is around Abby's age! Meaning he was never part of the target audience for Glee and neither were his peers. Glee did absolutely jack shit for his journey to self or peer acceptance.

you know what is relevant to Tommy's journey? The repeal of Don't Ask, Don't Tell. Y'know what probably actually helped kick him into self acceptance? The nationwide legalization of gay marriage that happened less than 3 years before season 1.

the issue I have is we know, we know, that Tommy is around Abby's age, meaning he was born in the mid to late 70s and he grew up watching the AIDS epidemic happen. he grew up during that time in our history, when we were ostracized and dying by the hundreds. to boil down the lives and experiences of queer elders, which is what Tommy would be were he real, into "pre-Glee" and "post-Glee" is just so,,, disgusting to me. there's a dozen other notable events and indicators of our acceptance, and to choose Glee of all things is not only a slap in the face, but so fucking egotistical of Ryan Murphy.

I understand that Glee was a phenomenon and that it did help queer acceptance to a certain degree, but using it in this context, where it's so wholly irrelevant to the characters involved and feels like it was only used to stroke the ego of Ryan Murphy? I don't know! I just think they should've used something else, something more relevant, like, oh I don't know, the Obama administration legalizing gay marriage! they could've easily used "pre-obama" and "post-obama" and it would've suited the situation better, and actually been relevant to all characters involved!

I just really have a bone to pick with so many things in that episode in regards to 911's queer characters, but I think this is the one that really pisses me off.

[nandermoenthusiast]

The coffin lands with a crash, Nandor already out of it gracefully as his vampiric nature grants him.

“Have you survived the fall Guillermo, are you allright?” he asks haughtily and with a barely concealed predatory grin at the yelping heap of limbs and clothes that is Guillermo right now. Of course he was never truly worried for his well being, Guillermo might be human, but he is no regular human, if his van Helsing blood has anything to say about that. Nandor just likes to tease.

“Yes master, im fine, i just wasnt prepa-“

Nandor offers him a hand out of the coffin, the way Guillermo has done so many times before for him. Nandor looks at him curiously, Guillermo looks all flustered right now, hes cute. Hes always cute of course, but damn. He hasn’t even realised the obvious parallel yet, just took his hand absent-mindedly as he was rambling about something. His hair is all mussed up too. Cute.

Probably the moment registers into Guillermo’s mind as Nandor hears his muttering protests suddenly cut short. He’s looking at their gingerly intertwined hands and kinda looks like hes about to swallow a frog, or maybe like he’s about to start crying again. This fucking guy. Always a theatrics with him. But Nandor has learned to lean into his little guy’s moods. He leaves him to his maybe horny maybe emotional thoughts and finishes helping him out of the coffin.

The air is thick between them now. He can sort of hear Guillermo’s heartbeat from this distance, the little guy probably has a concert thumping in his ears right now. Nandor enjoys playing with his food, always has, and today is no different. He takes a step closer. Guillermo takes an infinitesimal step back. There is a wall very close to his back. Right where Nandor wanted him.

“You know as i was saying about the cameras, Guillermo…” he starts feign-casual as he very not casually hovers over him, black eyes boring into him with the fire that only very rarely comes out in front of the crew. Guillermo looks like he’s a mixture between disbelieving and like he’s gonna pass out from hyperventilation at a moments notice. It’s an endearing mix.

“Y-yes, you -were saying something about your hair…” Guillermo couldn’t physically look away from Nandor if his life depended on it right now.

“And other reasons”, very seriously.

“- Yeah”, an exhale.

Just look at his eager little eyes. Should he put the guy out of his misery? Well come to think of it, should he put himself out of his own misery? He’s been in love with the guy for the better part of a decade now. Of course he’s not about to say that now. Let him play the part of suave vampire for his Guillermo, let him fullfill any fantasy he’s ever had, at the very least this very first time they do this dance. There will be time for the mushy stuff later. Come to think of it, what is Nandor doing?? Acting on years of pent up sexual and romantic tension, of course, but what is he setting himself up to? Heartbreak.

Violent, earth shattering heartbreak. Maybe not today, maybe not in 10 years, but soon. Soon to a vampire anyway. No- you don’t know that. If Guillermo loves me, he might find a way to not leave me like he always does. He always does leave. But then he also always comes back. Doesn’t he? Nandor loses himself in these thoughts for a moment, and Guillermo seems to notice his mind is suddenly somewhere else.

Oh, to be known so completely. Oh, to have a worthy partner, a partner who knows everything about you, a Lazlo to your Nadja, a Charmaine to your Sean, a Sire to your Baron. And to have to lose it in a matter of years. Just his luck. But also like Colin Robinson said, dont be sad cause its over, smile cause it happened.

Nandor’s eyes keep searching Guillermo’s as he draws closer and closer, eyes intensely registering every microexpression on his beloved’s face, the little crinkle between his brows and the small nervous smile that’s forming around his lips. His hands land seamlessly and delicately on either side of Guillermo’s face, and he feels his breath hitch. He really doesn’t give a flying fuck if he’s gonna suffer for a thousand years, Guillermo is here right now and he looks like he’s gonna break under his touch. One hand goes to cradle his head, thumb delicately swiping over Guillermo’s ear and pulse point, as Nandor brings their noses together and they breathe the same air for a moment. The other hand is held gently across his cheek, just there, a reassuring weight. “I’m going to kiss you now”.

And Nandor kisses him.

[receivedhope]

[yameoto]

scumbag fuck but i swear that she’s not

she's so good to me, and nobody else

supernatural!au quinn masterpost

big sis. roadhead. barfight. somno.

“yeah, well maybe i don’t want to spend my life hunting monsters til' i'm fucking eighty, quinn!” quinn gives you the most unimpressed look of her life, because seriously? the two of you aren't living til' you're eighty, anyways. “yeah, well tough shit, baby sis.” she jerks the wheel just a little sharper than she should, like a fucking ass. "you run away again and i'll tie your tight-ass up and cram you in the boot, you hear me?"

backstory

▸ born in a supremely episcopalian, puritan household, LUCY QUINN FABRAY is the first daughter of russell fabray, famous preacherman in the deep south. when her mother, judy fabray, bursts into flames at the hands of a devil, above the cot of her baby sister, russell turns back to the hunting life, for good; taking his two girls' along with him.

▸ quinn's baby sister was dropped off on the fabray's doorstep when quinn was 4. russell believes she was ‘sent by the angels’, and the second coming of jesus.

▸ russell's cover as a travelling preacherman, and the long nature of certain hunts, meant he often left his girls’ to live alone for long stretches of time. for most of their lives, quinn has taken sole responsibility of the care of her baby sister. cooking, cleaning, the whole nines. from the moment russell thrust the infant into quinn’s arms as they fled from the fire, quinn has formed her entire identity around being her baby sisters’ protector.

“but daaaddd..” quinn can't help it. the baby is swaddled up in cloth, eyes blinking guilessely up at her, because apparently she's its ‘big sister.’ it’s been quiet since it came 'home’. a good girl. almost too good, her mom says. and yeah, okay. maybe it really is a gift from the angels. quinn doesn’t know what it has to do with sunday school, but she knows one thing; she’s jealous. she wants to be cooed over and coddled and called sent by the heavens like she used to do (but the way her dad says it this time sounds different. like he means it more, or something). besides, she doesn’t want to share her toys with a stupid new baby. “lucy, enough. good girls don’t whinge. say something nice, or don’t say it at all.” quinn opens her mouth to protest, before deflating on the stern look on her father's face. “i guess it’s kinda cute.” quinn huffs, blowing air out of rosy cheeks, golden curls framing her face like she’s been ripped right from some old romantic painting of a cherub. quinn reaches out, gingerly prodding the baby’s cheek. it makes an indistinct babbling sound, little arms reaching upwards. “looks like she likes you, honey.” comes russell’s deep rumble, overlooking the scene, expression unreadable. “really?” quinn perks up, because the prospect of being the only one this dumb baby likes makes it a little less dumb in her books—before she catches herself. crosses her arms. “well, i don’t care.” except she’s crawled over to sit beside the baby’s cot anyways. she asks, eventually “..can i hold her, daddy?”

▸ quinn has hunted from an early age, russell bringing her out on hunts to ‘watch’ as early as six years old, in order to familiarise his child with the supernatural in order to better protect herself and her younger sister better. quinn was 12 years old when allowed on her first, proper hunt. russell never allowed them to hunt individually, even in early adulthood.

▸ russell fabray originally never intended for his daughters to hunt, as he wanted to keep them ‘pure’ as possible. quinn, however, snuck into her fathers’ car when he was going out for a hunt one too many times (with her oblivious baby sister towed along, of course).

▸ for long, long hunts, russell would drop his children off a motel or at a fellow hunters’ house for extended periods, in which they would be enrolled at the local school for 1-6 months. quinn flourished, adopting the head bitch role like a second skin. even took up cheerleading. quinn enjoyed these brief stints of normalcy (and gratuitous popularity) though she would never admit it.

"hi, baby sis.” quinn gives you a fond hair ruffle as she passes you by, and you swat her wrist away, scowling at the retreating form of your older sister. you're just glad she didn't pinch your cheek or anything. that would be lame. though, what's totally lamer, is the slackjawed look your potential new friend is giving you right now. “your sister is quinn fabray?” the girl gapes. “the quinn fabray?” you stare back, uncomprehending. “um. last time i checked. yeah?” “instant head bitch, prom queen shoein, second coming of jesus, quinn fabray? because, like, everybody’s been waiting for chiara’s epic downfall, ‘cause everyone knows she’s a hypocrite and also a major slut, and then your sister strutted in the lunchroom on her first day and—“ you tuned out five seconds ago. is this a dream? this feels like a dream. the two of you have only been in town for four months! you didn’t know quinn was fucking notorious, or something. most demons’ or talkative monsters just dub you as those fabray brats and are done with that. this is entirely uncharted waters for eighth-grade you. you take one glance back, because you’ve got to be missing something. in your head, you’re thinking more like; too-lazy-to-clean-the-toothpaste-tube-and-lets-it-harden-into-something-disgustingly-crusty quinn fabray? takes-five-years-in-the-shower-and-uses-all-the-last-body-wash-and-fills-it-up-with-water-before-it’s-your-turn quinn fabray? your annoying, overprotective, (admittedly badass) older sister, quinn fabray? you've seen her, sure. sashaying down the hallways, blonde hair tight in a highpony, in a cheerleading uniform—which was so fucking weird the first time and you don't think you'll ever get used to it. not because you've never seen quinn in skimpy clothing before (whenever dad needs her to charm the wits out of some sorry sucker), but never like this. never, so.. normal. even if she's got this glint in her eyes that you recognise when she's facing off bloody wendigos; except its period 3 bell in some bumfuck town in the middle of ohio. it suits her, you think; normal. like she has eyes at the back of her head or something, midway down the hallway, quinn turns around and meets your gaze. her mouth changes, from that sweet, sweet smile disguising the devil underneath you've seen her wear nowadays, into that warm, fond grin she reserves only for you, with a flash of her canines and a subtle wink she learned when the two of you would play pranks on dad, in the early years. you shoot her a brazen middle finger for her troubles, and she just throws her head back and laughs, airy and breathy and carefree. you suppress the instinctive urge to return it with a grin, as you both go opposite ways, new spring in both steps. the quinn fabray. yeah, right. that's just your big sister.

▸ when quinn was 22, her baby sister got into stanford on full scholarship, abandoning the hunting life for a normal one. this led to a huge blow-up argument which escalated until they both went radio silent, for two years. stems from their intense sibling codependency, and the fact quinn, as her ‘protector’, derived all meaning from caring for her sister—and thus didn’t know what the hell she was good for, without her. this is the same reason quinn keeps to hunting. even beyond the whole, family first, ‘it’s in your blood’ schtick. there is nothing else that she knows.

facts.

▸ quinn's episcopolian upbringing means she has extensive biblical knowledge, especially due to being so exposed to her father. she is family-first, always.

▸ quinn wears a cross necklace around her neck that she never takes off, as her baby sister gifted it to her, on one of many christmases spent just the two of them, when russell left them alone for two weeks in a motel room.

▸ quinn had lingering faith in god, though moreso for it represented her idyllic childhood and a time in which she lived in relative normalcy. she is now a heretic. not a skeptic, a heretic.

“i thought you were saving this for dad..?” quinn, 12 mumbles, sleepily lifting her head from the shitty motel couch. she frowns, as you, 8, crawl up on the cushions to face her. your form is illuminated by the christmas lights she stole from the house down the street, while you were sleeping. “dad’s not here. you are,” you point out, as if it’s as simple as that. maybe it is. “i warded it. kinda.” your brows knit, sitting cross-legged in front of her as you hold up the necklace, shifting as if embarrassed. “i dunno. i jus' followed a few things i saw when i was snooping through dad’s journal. they probably don’t work, but..” they don't. she knows, just from running a finger over the silver emblem of the cross, that it's virtually useless. she couldn't give less of a fuck. instead, she turns, hands gathering up her hair and pushing it upwards, exposing the pale expanse of her nape. "put it on for me?" she asks, after a moments' silence, not even scolding you for, first of all; looking at dad's journal (big nono). secondly; trying your hand at an ancient, potentially town-levleling rite you can't even read properly because you wanted to give her a christmas present. who does that? (her baby sister, that's who. and the thought swells quinn with pride and a curshing wave of love, even though she knows she should be a good big sister and tell you off). except, she can't. not when your fingers so cautious, so soft—unweathered by the callouses of hunting life, the grooves of clutching a knife to your chest, unfamiliar with the cold metal of a trigger guard. she savours your softness. drinks it in, in a way she already knows is greedy but she can't help it, and in the moment you finish clumsily clasping it around her neck, she turns and flings her arms around you and tucks you close to her chest. nose burrowing into the familiar, earthy scent of your sweatdamp locks and promises to mom and to god that'll she'll take care of you for as long as she fucking lives. "i'm never taking it off, ever. i swear, lil' sis." "..never ever?" "never fucking ever."

▸ since losing her faith, quinn wears the cross necklace inverted. it is symbolic of her devotion—not to god—but to her sister.

▸ nobody calls quinn ‘lucy’ except for her father. this is because judy named her, and he clutches onto his wife through quinn. quinn goes by her middle name for the same reason.

▸ russell used to keep quinn's hair long as a child, for the same reason that she reminded him of judy, and preserve his eldests' semblance of innocence. quinn now regularly hacks it off to various lengths for practicality's sake.

OVERARCHING PLOT CONTEXT (SPN S1-5): follows the canon trajectory of spn seasons 1-5. angels/demons working together in order to break the seals, free lucifer and jumpstart the apocalypse. quinn is the vessel for michael, and her baby sister is the vessel for lucifer.

her baby sister was not sent by the angels, but was in fact delivered by azazel, the same demon who killed their mother. russell fabray, rather than being a voice/prophet of god, he has been obliviously consorting with devils, disguised as angels, who have been using him and his children to bring about the apocalypse.

to be finished.

[raisedbythetv89]

When mom accidentally let slip she used to use dad’s dick like her own personal brand of antidepressants

[gailynovelry]

Thinking a little bit about that one "I'm an English major and a professional as opposed to you amateurs" anon. Gonna roast 'em a little bit, but with the intention of addressing a thing we've had in mind for a while.

Real talk, coming from someone who WAS an English major; majoring in English is not necessarily a guarantee that someone is a good writer. For one, you can be bad at your major, full stop. For another, it's not even a guarantee that someone identifies as a writer to begin with. English as a major is pretty broad, and it covers reading too, among other things. There's library science, analytical academia, historical preservation & interpretation (MEDIEVAL MANUSCRIPTS HELL YES), editing, nonfiction trades (often crosses over with STEM majors), marketing (crosses over with business majors), and also book design and typography (<3 <3 <3 our favorite, crosses over with art majors).

Someone can major in English and take a specific minor with the goal of falling into a trade that is not writing literary fiction. In fact, we would argue that most people who get something useful out of their major are the ones that do that.

It's also worth noting that it's possible to be an English major focused on "lowbrow" fiction. There are people who major in English and use the experience towards the end of writing erotica. There are people who major in English with the intent to write genre fiction. There are people who major in English to study the history and social context of fanfiction.

These things are, in fact, worthy fields of study! The realm of the "amateur" is the realm where a lot of cultural conversations and innovations happen!

Expecting English as a major to be a tract specifically for producing acclaimed literary fictionists is not realistic, not how the discipline typically works, and it's certainly not a thing you can use to hold over other writers' heads. It is perfectly possible for people to write good things (professional-grade things even) without ever touching a college course.

I sat through so much bad writing in college. Technically bad, thematically bad, gramatically bad. And I routinely bump into non-graduate authors who write texts, formal and informal alike, that blow my own writing clean out of the water with their quality.

In short, dismissing other people in your general field as "amateurs" who are beneath you is an incredibly unprofessional thing to do.

[sorryimlatecapt]

yeah i'm not fucking buying how they handled this breakup. i'm so angry that this is where we ended up.

tommy more than once reiterated that he longed for a family, a place to belong, only for him to pull the rug out from underneath buck's feet when buck has reassured him that he wants to be in a relationship with him? when we have been shown from the start that buck wants to build something real with him, and he's been intentional about it the whole time? tommy didn't have a SINGLE reason to doubt him, and his insecurity and worry was the kinda thing that, the way their relationship has been established, they could have resolved it by talking to each other. and they didn't. and that was that. poof, done.

what the fuck man. what a slap in the face.

[brackenfur]

i always get soooo annoyed when ppl misinterpret mercedes' crush on kurt in the first eps of season 1 bc like. the reason why kurtcedes friendship is top tier and why those scenes r sooo important to me just like, in general is bc mercedes DIDNT know kurt was gay. she didnt think it was 'obvious'. she didnt care that he didnt pass/that other ppl clocked him as gay bc she didnt KNOW he was because she just liked kurt as a PERSON and thought he was cute. when he lied and said he had a crush on rachel she was upset (and sung one of the most iconic glee covers everrr) but apologized right away. and when he came out to her she immediately respected it, told him that she still cared about him/that no one would judge him and continued to support him.

[avicecaro]

“you think you made all the right choices and became the perfect woman who would be safe and loved and okay but NEWSFLASH your husband will reveal his misogyny once you’re used up and ugly and he’ll cheat on you to feel powerful and he’ll abandon you when you’re sick or pregnant and won’t you regret registering republican THEN” is not a sick own to conservative women.

that is what evil men do. they lie. they trap you. they drain the life out of you. and this is what women do, we try to make the very best choices with all the information we can get. and one day you may be forced to come to the realization that there is no perfect formula to living as a woman in a world that is dangerous for women. it is not just conservative women who might have their lives and convictions fall apart around them. do you think liberal men do not LIE? that liberal men do not also convince women that they’ve found the one good guy and the one safe marriage and then reveal their misogyny when you’re stuck? do you think your liberal politics have saved you from male violence — and if you do, why do you think you’re different than the conservative women who say the same about theirs?

[diamondcitydarlin]

My GOD this romance scene !!!!