#shhh this blog is not alive

[skinringmistress]

is someone jealous of danny wanting to spend time with tim :)?

Ha!! Me?? Jealous?? Of Tim Stoker Of All People!!???

That's A Funny Joke, My Dear!! :o))

Have You Ever Thought Of Being A Comedian? Or A Clown? Or Both?? We Do Have A Few Open Spots Here At The Circus!!

All You Have To Do Is Hand Over Your Skin!!

[hp-hcs]

• smut (?) • like a record, baby [soulmate au]—poly! simp! mattheo riddle x poly! simp! harry potter x poly! gn! reader

hey sorry i fell off the face of the planet for like two and a half months i fell back into my old hyperfixation and started a new blog just for that and lowkey forgot abt this one and kinda fell out of the fandom lmfao anywhore—

inspired by that one Dead or Alive song

tws: sort of smut? it’s mostly implied and also like two sentences and also doesn’t involve the reader whatsoever?, lowkey bottom mattheo tbh, blink-and-you-miss-it reference to potential harry self harm :(, so fucking ooc omg

not edited if you see any mistakes shhh no you didn’t

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If I, I get to know your name / Well, if I could trace your private number, baby

Mattheo huffed, resigned. It was official; he’d finally have to talk to Scarboy.

Eight years.

Eight years of avoiding the damn boy. Eight years of ignoring the sudden sharp pains that would slice across his forehead, right where Potter’s famous scar was. Eight years of waking up in the middle of the night from nightmares that weren’t his own.

His fingers reached down on instinct to mindlessly trace the prominent soulmarks etched into his wrist. His fingertips skated over the sprawling lightning bolt mark that twisted its way up his arm, its branching lines crossing over part of his faded Dark Mark.

His fingers then marched their way across his scarred skin to the other soulmark. It was an odd black circle with a smaller red circle inside, and an even smaller circle in the center. Thin white lines following the curve of the circular shape were intermittently drawn on the black part, giving it a ridge-like visual texture.

He had no fucking clue what it was supposed to be. Neither did his mother, the one time he’d worked up the nerve to ask her about it.

Potter might, a little voice in his head whispered. He was raised by Mudbloods. If it’s a Muggle symbol, he might know what it is.

Fuck. He really would have to get over himself and talk to Scarboy.

~~~

I, I got to be your friend now, baby

“It’s a vinyl.”

Mattheo paused. “What?”

“The mark. It’s a vinyl.” Harry pushed his glasses up his nose where they’d started to slip down. “It’s an old-fashioned way Muggles used to play music.”

“Music? Is it an instrument?” Mattheo asked, his eyes lingering for just a second too long on Harry’s slender fingers. Potter had taken the news of being Mattheo’s soulmate surprisingly well. He’d just shrugged and nodded, saying he already knew.

Mattheo looks between his and Harry’s exposed forearms. His skin itches to pull his sleeve down, to cover up the shameful mark of his father burned into his flesh for eternity. Harry’s arm is also scarred, but in a much different way. Both bear the same circular soulmark—the vinyl, as Potter had called it—although their other soulmarks differed. Mattheo’s was the obvious lightning bolt, while Harry’s was a cigarette, puffing out a cloud of smoke that formed the shape of a snake.

And I would like to move in just a little bit closer

“Sort of,” Harry answered his original question, doing his best to explain as his fingers tracing the identical vinyl soulmark on his own wrist. “It’s just a plastic disk. When you put it on a record player, it spins, and a little needle follows the grooves. It plays whatever music was recorded onto it.”

“Uh huh,” Mattheo hummed in acknowledgment a half-second too late, too busy focusing on Harry’s fingers. Had they always looked that good?

Harry smirked and reached over, lacing their hands together. Mattheo’s skin promptly heated up about ten degrees and the skin under his soulmark sizzled with a pleasant buzz before radiating a soft silver glow.

That’s it. They were together; now, until forever.

~~~

Mattheo’s legs shook, his teeth digging into his lower lip hard enough to bleed. “A-ah~ P-Potter—”

“Nuh uh.” The man in question, currently hidden underneath a library table, pulled off. “That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Harry!”

“That’s it. Good boy.”

~~~

All I know is that to me / You look like you're lots of fun

They refused to call it the Yule Ball this year. After all, the war was over, there was no reason to continue separating Muggleborns and Purebloods with something as silly as a school dance.

So, much to the horror of many a Pureblood parent, Hogwarts was hosting Prom this year.

Open up your lovin' arms / Watch out, here I come

Harry was having a blast. Admin had insisted on only playing Muggle music at Prom, and it had been a wonderfully painful mix of *Nsync, Outkast, and Ricky Martin.

“You have to dance with me,” Harry demanded, pulling Mattheo out onto the dance floor by his arm.

Mattheo stumbled, still not used to the odd formal attire Muggles wore. (A tuxedo, Harry had informed him it was called.) Although he’d never say it aloud, he preferred the tux over his usual dress robes. So much easier to move around in; why were dress robes ever on the table as an option?

~~~

You spin me right ‘round, baby, right ‘round / Like a record, baby, right ‘round, ‘round, ‘round

You spin around in a circle with Hermione, both of you doing your best to teach Pansy Parkinson—Hermione’s soulmate—how to dance anything other than ballroom-style.

All three of you were laughing like mad, spinning around and around until you all got dizzy.

All three of you tried to stumble off the dance floor and back to the table you’d called dibs on earlier in the night. As you’re stumbling back, dizzy, you bump into a pair of men.

Suddenly, your outfit feels a lot stuffier than it did before. You feel hot all over.

One of the men grabs your bicep to try to steady you. His hands are slick with sweat. The other also looks rather warm, his face flushed. All three of you stare at each other as a bright silver glow emanating from three people’s wrists suddenly cuts through the dimmed lights of the dance floor.

I want your love.

[prentissluvr]

abstract (psychopomp) — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, angst, hurt/comfort, idk just like a lot of feelings, animal death, some descriptions of injury, blood, crying, mention of character death, 1.9K words. listen to abstract (psychopomp) by hozier.

summary : sam realizes that he loves you as you hold a dying cat in your arms and cry over its loss.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

your gasp startles sam. all had been quiet after the hunt, the cruel, clawed monster killed and the rumble of the impala filling the space in the silent air. the street is slick with fresh rain and clouds block the moon and stars.

“pull over,” you insist suddenly. sam glances over at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. you’re very serious.

“what is it?” he asks, tearing his eyes from you to focus on the road. he’s already easing up on the gas.

“pull over, sam,” you repeat with more strength, voice imploring. he obliges, expression concerned as he swiftly brings the car to a stop on the side of the road. the tires screech from the effort because sam thinks something is horribly wrong. he’s worried about you, and that feeling only increases when you rush out from the car, leaving the door open as you run down the empty street back the way you came. it’s lit solely by a single flickering street lamp and the impala’s headlights.

“wait, hey, what are you–” he can’t get in a whole sentence before you’re gone. he puts the car in park and follows after you. greeted by the sight of you kneeling on the side of the road, back facing him, his frown deepens and he breaks into a jog. his long legs get him to your side in moments. you sit right underneath the orange light of the street lamp, your form illuminated by the gold of october leaves.

there’s something in your arms. something small and shaking and reflecting the light of the lamp. the smell of rain and grass is heady and delicate all at once.

your eyes are shadowed until you look up at him. then they’re shining with the threat of tears. sam crouches next to you and places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

it’s a cat, its tabby brown fur marred with blood and these deep, horrible gashes. its blood stains the road and mixes with newly fallen rain. it shines in orange light above you. the cat's eye glistens, and it’s still alive, barely, moving in your arms. clearly, the monster you just killed got to it, before you even arrived, and the poor creature’s been bleeding out slowly on the side of the road.

sam imagines that its body isn’t as warm in your arms as it should be. you hold it so gently, your hands so delicate and full of intention. with a pang to his heart, sam realizes that you just want to hold it as it passes. its eyes must’ve held fear as you gingerly lifted it into your arms. but that fear is gone as you softly, so softly, brush your fingers over the fur of its tiny head.

“shhh,” you hush sweetly, quietly. sam wonders how everything could be this silent. sam knows it would be wrong if it weren’t, though. “it’s okay. i’ve got you now. you’re alright.” your voice is lulling and murmuring and trembling.

it slows in your arms. it stills. sam puts a hand over yours and he feels where its fur is soft and silky, untainted by blood. the cat doesn’t breathe in again.

sam looks at your face, and as a tear rolls down your cheek, past the shadow over your eyes, it catches the light. his heart aches. it aches and it aches and it aches.

for the sweet, small creature, innocent and swept aside by unnatural claws. discarded and truly nothing more than collateral damage. its tiny paws and darling brown ears and its good-natured animal heart which all deserved nothing but soft and unconditional love. cat hearts are small, sam recalls. about fifteen times smaller than a human heart. he doesn’t remember where he read that.

he doesn’t even realize that he’s begun to rub small circles over your back. while he has a soul full of compassion for the pretty tabby cat, his heart aches for you the most.

you look so distraught. you’re still crying. there’s a dead animal in your arms.

the way that you hurt makes him feel it too, makes him desperate to fix it for you. he wonders if the tip of your nose is starting to get cold like it always does when it’s windy outside.

and there’s just… your humanity. all he can see in this moment is how it shines. how you’re better than anything he’s ever known. 

he thinks that sometimes it feels like the two of you choose what you’re doing. and then he realizes that it’s tearing at your hearts. he remembers that he’d choose anything but this if he could.

he knows you would too. you’d always choose a home and a purring brown tabby cat and house plants over this view; mangled bodies of the innocent, blood in the road, and weeds through the concrete. then again, it’s that humanity of yours that keeps you going. you can’t just leave it all, knowing you could save even one life with the knowledge that you have. you keep him going too.

sam wishes more than anything that this wasn’t it for you. sam knows better than anything now that he loves you. and this is the moment he realizes it. in orange light and a dark blue sky. in a haunting shadow and a soft brilliance. 

you are the soft brilliance. in all of your pain and weariness and honest devastation over the loss of a small animal you never knew. that’s what makes him love you, so fully and truly and with no room for a drop of doubt.

he’ll remember this view. it’s fucked up and horrible. it’s the most genuine display of unconditional love and humanity that he’s ever seen. it makes him wonder if someday he’ll be you, and you’ll be the cat, curled up and cold in his lap. the blood drains from his face and he almost starts to cry with you.

but he loves you too much now to go back. it’s strange, he’s loved you a long time. a long time, and now he finally knows it. and he loves all of you. his love for you just rushes through his veins, it overwhelms his senses, it multiplies the aching of his heart.

he sits all the way down, pressed close against you as he wraps his arm around your shoulder and draws you to his chest. the cold wet of rain that’s stuck between the grooves and bumps of the asphalt soaks up into the thick fabric of his jeans. his warm hand smooths up and down your arm. the other stays splayed over yours and the poor cat, like he can somehow protect you both. that hurts him because one of you is already gone.

sam doesn’t just let you take the time to mourn. he mourns with you. he lets go of the part of him that fights to push it all away, to pretend it isn’t there, to just play through the pain. instead, he lets himself feel it. the loss and the sadness and all the wishing that this never happened. that so many things never happened. you always bring sam back to himself.

eventually, sam realizes you need a bit of help with moving on. as soft and quiet as he can, he peels off his jacket to wrap the cat in. you shouldn’t have to keep staring at its bloody wounds. the cat shouldn’t have to be so cold. he lays the jacket on the ground in front of you.

“here,” he murmurs. you inhale sharply, like you’re coming out of a daze. when you look up at him, your eyes still shine. ever so gently, you place the poor thing over the fabric of his jacket. sam wraps it up, safe and warm for you. he tucks it carefully into one arm, silently and sadly marveling at how small it is. then he holds out his other hand for you.

he exhales softly through his lips when your trembling hand meets his. you look so tired, so worn as he pulls you to your feet. but a bit of burden has been lifted since he took the cat from your lap. there’s streaks of blood on your clothes, smothered over your gentle, calloused hands.

your hand doesn’t slip from his as you walk back to the car. you open the trunk and pull out salt, gasoline, and matches. sam locks the car and you walk out into the grass until you can barely see the road. the lump of sam’s jacket, with the cat’s sweet head and closed eyes framed by the fabric and the rest of its body hidden away, is set gently on the ground. it’s silent as the two of you build up a tiny pyre of sticks and dried leaves.

sam softly covers the animal’s face when he sets it over the sticks. the cat receives a proper hunter’s funeral. sam lights the match and sprinkles the salt. he doesn’t want you to have be the one to set it alight.

you sit on the dewy grass and watch, rather than stand so you can be closer to the small thing. sam sits beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. he’s a bit cold without his jacket, but he doesn’t care. the heat from the fire reaches him, though it's mostly swallowed up by the wind.

he looks at you, quiet and subtle in his movements. your features are lit up by orange light for the second time tonight. the fire flickers in your eyes and the shadows cast a haunted look over your face.

sam is afraid of losing you. he’s terrified. and he’s still glad he met you. all of his love and terror is poured into you. he won’t tell you that he loves you today. he’s unlikely to tell you tomorrow. he wonders if he’ll tell you the next day, or the next month or year. he will tell you. and before that, he’ll show you.

every moment from now, he’s utterly dedicated to you. to your humanity, love, passion, kindness, and soft, immovable goodness. he’ll hold you close and kiss that goodness and make sure that no one can touch it. he’ll make sure you know that it is seen and loved and honored so that you don’t ever feel that you have to tuck it away for the sake of looking strong. really, your strength is undeniable.

maybe any other day, you’d take a long, deep breath, then stand and walk back to the car before the fire flickers out. but sam’s understanding and willingness to do all of this for you is so unwavering and true that you don’t do anything at all. instead, you let yourself be.

the night is so slow. the clouds in the sky shift and swirl and reveal the stars sometimes. the moon shines bright and clear in the a.m.s once the storm clouds clear. tonight’s fire is stubborn and long lasting. it still sparks and crackles as the sky ever so slowly lightens. deep and heavy blue turns to soft purples and baby blue. the straggling clouds are wispy and sweet cotton candy pink as the sun touches the horizon. sam notices the lingering tears in your eyes as you gaze up at the honeyed tenderness of the morning.

the earth from a distance. see how it shines.

[neroushalvaus]

Tumblr in the 60s – deleted posts

Some people requested a sequel to this post so I thought I'd post these drafts that didn't make it to the original. Maybe doing more at some point if the inspiration hits me but I hope these bring you some joy.

🚀 starrfleet Follow

HEY GUYS!! We're buying The Beatles so John and Paul can finally get together!! Who's in

🎹 nixonsafascist Follow

Call that... Beatles for Sale

🚀 starrfleet Follow

Dude this is serious. We want to free them. Why is homophobia so very funny to you?

🎶 mclennstarrison Follow

Didn't The Beatles start managing themselves after Mr Epstein died? So you plan to buy them... From themselves?

🚀 starrfleet Follow

Oh so the george harrison vampire mpreg blog is going to preach to us now.

92 notes

📻 lesbianbobdylan Follow

"Let men have short hair!!" "It's okay to not agree with the civil rights folk" "Don't let tumblr tell you that serving your country is bad" You are all so chronically online and convinced your little hippie bubble represents the world that you have the worst takes. Conservatism is alive and well, us hippies are the fucking minority. The outside world is perfectly okay with all the anti-mlk short-haired men who are happily getting drafted. You are not counterculture.

15,5 t. notes

☁️ ankin-vaimo Follow

Tumblr is so US/UK centric. Scrolling through this site you'd think there were no other tv shows than star trek and no other bands than the monkees and that the stonewall riots were the only meaningful political activism that has ever happened. There's so much great culture elsewhere. I bet you have never even heard of Tapani Kansa.

🇻🇳 shirellesofficial

#shhh don't tell Tumblr that other countries exist #they couldn't even admit Please Mr. Postman was originated by black women (tags via @marvelettesofficial)

peer reviewed tags

#sorry for going through your tumblr marvelettesofficial #you're just so funny #hope i'm not annoying you

54 notes

🌼 andpeoplesaywebeatlearound Follow

People really like to pretend us Beatles girlies hate Y*ko for being asian and a woman like she didn't literally make John cheat on his wife and leave his young son

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians Follow

don't talk like us beatles girlies are all the same, i personally want to fuck her on a canvas while we're both covered in menstrual blood, creating modern art by making love

✝️ jesusrevolution Follow

Op is this you? ↓

🎶 mclennstarrison Follow

Also like, "made John cheat on his wife and leave his young son", did John himself have nothing to do with that decision or..?

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians Follow

do you guys think she and john do mommy play

🎶 mclennstarrison Follow

I appreciate the input @prostitutesandlesbians but we're trying to call the op out for being a racist misogynist

🪕 prostitutesandlesbians Follow

sorry

346 notes

🤪 thekinkykinks Follow

Why is there even discourse about this... Yeah, the folks at Stonewall could have been more respectful towards the police officers who were just doing their jobs, but why are we acting like throwing some pennies at the police officers and calling them "Lily Law" is the worst type of oppression

🥿 trustnobutch Follow

You know what? No. Fuck you. I'm tired of you all talking about these people like they were your poor little meow meows. Have you read about this at all? The raid did not happen because the police "hates gay people wah wah". Stonewall Inn was run by the mob. The. Fucking. Mob. Would you rather have the police not protecting us from criminals, huh??? And the rioters were nothing but a bunch of attention seekers. I heard that a guy from the fucking Mattachine Society phoned newspapers and took pictures of the riot. I'm so disappointed, that was the only gay group that seemed to care about looking respectable in the eyes of the heterosexuals. People who were there made us all look bad and set our movement back like 50 years. Fuck you for supporting them.

🍊 kissmemissoklaholma Follow

Yeah. I heard someone threw a brick.

✌ draftdodgerdyke

??? Nobody threw bricks, where the fuck do you get your information ??

#they should have tho #chilling at the stockholm airport finding the weirdest takes

998 notes

🧸 teddyboyfemme Follow

i'm sharing a joint with this cute ass butch with the cutest curliest hair ever guyyyyssss I think i'm falling in love

🧸 teddyboyfemme Follow

she plays the harmonica for me i want to fuck her to the mattress

🧸 teddyboyfemme Follow

i don't have any idea what she's singing about but i think she likes the rolling stones too, we have so much in commonnnn

🧸 teddyboyfemme Follow

So it turns out that was Bob Dylan.

70,9 t. notes

[kaisers-house-of-desires]

I'm kinda leaning on the Toji x reader, Kokoshibou x reader, Muzan x Reader, or Ganondorf x reader stuff we mentioned, ngl - H

I'm partial to the Muzan x Reader one sooooooo You'll find it below~!

My apologies for how short it is, but sometimes, short is sweet

Title: In Sickness and in Health

Characters: Muzan x m!Reader

Contains: fluff, sickness, near death, pet names (love, dear)

Fandom: Demon Slayer

Full request below the cut

All characters are 18+

MINORS, FEM ALIGNED, AGELESS/BLANK BLOGS DNI (This may not be smut, but I still want the above to be followed)

Reblogs > likes

"My love...I think...it's time."

You lie on your back on the bedding Muzan had made for you, a bedding befitting royalty. Pillows softer than an angel's wings propped up your heavy head, and blankets more plush than a sheep's wool covered your body.

A sickness had attacked your body, and despite his knowledge in medicine, Muzan was unable to find a cure for this disease, leaving him to become a mess you had never seen him become. Worry took over his own body, panic slowly creeping up on his face as you spoke the words he never wanted to hear you say.

"My dear, please, don't say such things. You merely want to rest, yes? Then please, rest."

"Muzan..." A weak, pale hand raised to gently caress his chilled cheek. "We both know what I mean...and I'm ready."

You were grateful, as this sickness had taken the years to finally get you to this point. You were able to enjoy what time you were given to your husband, and throughout that time, you had come to accept what was to come, especially since a cure seemed further and further out of reach.

You had never seen this man cry, so to see him shed so many tears at your bedside only made your heart ache, even more so when he gripped at your hand, thinking holding it tightly would keep you down to earth with him.

"Muzan, shhh...please...I promise...it's better I go while I'm ready...than to leave with regret."

He knew that. He of all people should know that, especially with the time he has spent alive. He has seen many people come and go, but never, never has he felt such a fear of losing anyone before.

"...You can't leave me...I'm sorry..." Muzan's voice shook as he spoke, pressing your hand and his to your forehead. "Please...give me more time. I can find a cure! I know I can!"

"As great of a doctor as you are...not everything is meant to be cured..."

Ah, that's right. That's what he told you. He told you he was a doctor. He had almost forgotten his little white lie amidst his rare emotions.

"But...you cannot expect me to just let you die..."

"No...No I don't." Your voice was weak, and it only weakened by the minute. "I expect you to let me go, to allow me to move on. I told you, love...I'm ready."

"But I'm not! Please just..." He choked on a sob, wracking his thoughts around for an idea.

And one came to mind.

Immediately, his emotions flipped like a switch, and he slowly gazed at you with red, puffy eyes.

"My love...If I...If I may be selfish..." He stood from his seated spot, his hands moving up your arm until one rested under your head, gently lifting it so you two could meet eyes. "Please...allow me to..."

"Muzan...?" You furrowed your brows, tiredly meeting his eyes as he moved around. "What is it you wish to do...?"

"I...I have not been honest with you, dear. There is...a part of me I kept hidden from you for so long." He thought carefully about what to say, about how to say it. "This part of me...I never wanted you to see, to experience, but..."

You chuckled lightly before it turned into a phlegm filled cough, only startling Muzan further. However, you spoke before he could utter a word. "Alright, love..."

Muzan froze, unsure if he heard you correctly. "A...Alright?"

You gave him a weak smile. "I'm not sure what you're wanting to do, but...heh...I trust you." Honestly you thought maybe he was finally losing it at this point, considering how he had behaved with you during your sickness. Your sickness was lighting the fuse, and you dying was the explosion you never wanted to see. However, who were you to deny him at this point?

Your trust was all he needed, and it was like all fear and sadness left like water rushing out of a dam. Adrenaline kicked in, and with a bite of his tongue, Muzan's lips met yours.

At first, your suspicions felt correct, though you weren't complaining. His kisses were always lovely, and you'd be a fool to leave before receiving one last kiss from your husband.

But what you weren't expecting was the rush of blood that poured into your mouth.

Metallic liquid settled against your tongue, sliding down your throat. You had never tasted anything so foul, but as you swallowed it, you wouldn't remember the taste. In fact, you wouldn't remember anything for awhile.

It felt like a blink, and you were sitting up in bed, panting heavily as your eyes darted around the room. Your vision felt...cleaner, clearer. It was...sharper than before. Your body felt famished, like you hadn't eaten in weeks.

"M-Mu...zan...?"

Even your voice was affected, hoarse and weak. At first you thought it didn't change based on your sickness from before, but no. It had changed. You just didn't recognize it yet.

Muzan stood by the bedside, his red eyes gazing down to meet similar red irises. He knew well what he had done, and he was ready to accept the consequences of it, whatever they may be. For now, he saw this as a moment of joy, and he reached for your hands once more. Again, an emotion you never thought you'd see on him molded his face, leaving him smiling slightly wider than usual.

"My dear...you're just like me now. We can walk the earth to the end of time...as demons."

In all honesty, this is a nice segue into a possible part 2, so should you desire that, please let me know once requests open back up!

[moments-on-film]

Moments on Film: Carmy IS The Bear - Opening Scene Analysis

Hello friends. I hope your year is going well. If we have interacted or you’ve read my work before, hello again! If you’re new to my blog, welcome!

This is the final part I’ve been building to in a 3 part character analysis series I have written about the character of Carmen “Carmy” Berzatto from The Bear. In the first part, I analyzed how 🔗Carmy doesn’t know who he is yet because he’s never had the safety and freedom to discover who he really is by connecting with his true passion, art. In part two, I analyzed 🔗Carmy’s true purpose and how I believe his destiny is to set everyone up for success, leave the kitchen behind and step into his light.

I have rewatched The Bear multiple times, but nothing ever captures the wonder, intrigue, and immediate empathy I felt for Carmy after that fascinating opening scene in the pilot episode. I have been thinking about it since I first watched it and it has stayed with me.

Since the first time I saw it, I have always believed Christopher Storer wrote the opening scene of The Bear to provide a portal into the entire arc for Carmy’s character. Let me explain.

Think about what Carmy is doing in the opening scene. He’s approaching a bear trapped in a cage. He speaks to it softly and gently, shushes it, empathises with it, coaxes it out and unlocks the cage. Look at the words used in the script:

Trapped, locked away

Whimpers, cries from inside

Emerges

A mass of dirty, matted hair

Mouth bleeding and ill

Shivers

“Shhh…..shhhh…it’s okay…”

Sad, abused eyes

There was a cute animal in there once

“Come on….go….”

“I know.”

Why is The Bear so personified in the script? Why is Carmy talking to it like it’s a person? Carmy looks into its “sad, abused eyes”, and tells it,

“I know.”

In my opinion, in the pilot episode, Carmy encountering the Bear is more than a dream, it’s a premonition because….it is Carmy talking to his future self.

Think about everything we have seen him go through so far and read the scene below:

I think Chris Storer has given us the arc of Carmy’s character in the form of a fevered dream Carmy has while watching over a slow cooking pot of gravy while he sleeps on the metal counter.

Carmy is the bear in the cage. S1 set the trap, by the end of S2, Carmy has fallen deep into it, and I think in future seasons, Carmy will suffer greatly, then will make great attenpts to heal, get in touch with what he really wants and will set himself free.

The fact that the opening scene in the series takes place on the State Street Bridge is an indication that Carmy saving himself—letting himself out of the cage—will save his own life. This is the same Bridge where his brother Michael, trapped in the same cage he is caught in now, separately, but somehow together, saw no way out and took his own life. The symbolism is striking. The Bridge is the connection between the two realms, and the difference between life and death.

I also think that the words used to describe the bear mean that things will get so much worse for Carmy before they get better. Season 1 ended with Carmy committed to opening The Bear. Season 2 ends with Carmy caught in the walk in freezer of the restaurant, a literal bear trap of his own making where he is buried alive by his unprocessed trauma, and inability to thrive in the very place he was supposed to lead, and crippling pressure to turn a profit to pay off his debts. This is because in my opinion, the restaurant, his cage, is not his natural habitat. This is why everything in it always seems like such a struggle and so painful, forced and joyless.

I’m worried to see how things will get worse for Carmy than they already are. In the script, the bear is described as tapped, locked away, crying, whimpering from the inside, a mass of dirty matted hair, mouth bleeding and ill, shivering with sad, abused eyes.

From the moment I saw the drawing on the wall in the pilot episode, I said, wow, look at the bars, it’s a cage. Of course, I didn’t know until 2x6 that Carmy himself drew the sketch himself, as a Christmas gift for Michael, who was trapped in a horrible cage of his own at the time, which makes it all the more telling and poignant. There’s a reason why Carmy drew the sketch this way, even if it was subconscious, with the same bear trapped in a cage, which we see again in his dream.

Photo credit: moments-on-film (me)

At the end of season 2, Carmy is trapped, pacing the cage of the walk-in freezer.

I’ve been so worried about Carmy as a character since the first episode because it is so clear that he’s sick and badly needs help that he’s not getting. He has undiagnosed PTSD, and inner trauma that manifests physically in the form of nightmares, trouble breathing and terrible panic attacks that ravage his body. This has been so visceral to me throughout S1 and S2 that I wrote an analysis post about 🔗Carmy’s Vital Signs, and how they are dangerously visible on screen through Jeremy Allen White’s exceptional acting. The Bear in the pilot script is described as whimpering, crying and ill. If I am correct, this is where Carmy is headed before it can all turn around.

One other little clue that Carmy is metaphorically the bear from the opening scene, is the physical look of Carmy’s hair. From the pilot episode, Carmy’s hair has bothered me. He’s a 3 Star chef, trained with the best, and worked under the abusive chef in New York who must have had him and his hygiene under a microscope. It never made sense to me that his hair at times looked dirty and unkempt while his shirts were immaculately clean, pressed, and white. Below is a quote from an article where Jeremy Allen White talks about his hair as Carmy:

"I also wanted Carmy to always look just a little dirty. There’s a sink on set — everything was functional — and before most takes, I would get water in my hands and run it through my hair to get it looking kind of greasy.”

This always stuck out to me. He’s playing not just any chef, but, in the words of Sydney, “the most excellent CDC at the most excellent restaurant in the United States of America.” A chef who clearly cares about cleanliness, who gets on his hands and knees to scrub the floor more than once with just his hands and a washcloth. Why would he want him to look dirty? But thinking of it now, if he too knows the arc of Carmy, which he has said Chris Storer has shared with him, then he understands that where we are headed is to witness him as the bear is described, emerging from the cage, “a mass of dirty, matted hair.” The slightly dirty hair is a physical clue into the journey he is on as a character.

I think in future seasons we are going to see a great deal of guilt and therefore self flagellation from Carmy to over correct his mistakes from S2 that is going to further impact his mental and physical health. As I mentioned in a prior post, just like his tattoo, he is constantly dancing on the knife’s edge, and literally putting himself in life threatening danger.

I also have predicted in prior posts that Carmy is going to push himself so hard that he has a major health incident that might finally force Claire (if she’s still around) to actually take note of how sick he actually is. I’m not sure if she’s going to be prominently featured in S3, but I would not be surprised if a health emergency forces Carmy into her life somehow. It never made sense to me that her (then) boyfriend is sick, she’s an ER Doctor, and doesn’t seem to really notice or care.

As I mentioned in my last post, Carmy’s True Purpose, I ultimately believe that Carmy needs to get out of the kitchen and into a life where he can be happy and healthy, and connected to his true life’s purpose. I do not believe that this means Carmy will abandon his found family, or that he will do anything to betray Sydney. I believe she’s his shining star and he will do anything and everything in his power to make sure she gets hers. I also believe they will be in each other’s lives forever because they are truly soulmates. This isn’t about anyone else, though, I think this is about Carmy coming to terms with decades of abuse, unspoken thoughts and feelings, buried passions, his precarious health situation, which is in fact, eating him alive, and letting go of his long held mantra to 🔗 “just keep going”, before it kills him.

Perhaps there’s a way to marry art with the restaurant. That doesn’t solely mean he is only drawing. Maybe what Carmy really should be doing is creating, planning and designing menus, traveling the world to discover new flavors and finding inspiration that can help the restaurant, and provide him with much needed creatively, peace and, yes, joy. Maybe the restaurant will become seasonal and he and Sydney can spend the off time traversing the globe and creating menus together. Maybe down the line he can get out of the commercial kitchen, and he and Sydney’s can revamp her catering company and they can create together is a different environment. I must believe we are headed for somewhere healing, positive and beautiful, despite the valley of despair that ended S2.

The character of Carmy honestly breaks my heart. In him I see someone who so desperately needs a breakthrough and help on so many levels. He so badly needs to discover who he is and what actually makes him happy before it’s too late. I think Carmy is subconsciously very connected to this. His dream, which started the series, continues to haunt me.

One great thing about Carmy’s life are the people who now surround him. In my opinion, he needs to be very careful about how he treats them moving forward. He has people who genuinely love him and who I believe have his best interest at heart. If he pushes himself to the brink and then decides to leave the kitchen for the sake of his health, I believe everyone would ultimately understand. However, no one can take the reins of his life and fix it for him. Only he has that power and create his own reversal of fortune.

If I am correct, for his character to follow the arc of the opening dream scene, all Carmy ultimately has to do is unlock the cage and set himself free.

How he will arrive at that point is the journey of The Bear.

©️moments-on-film 2024

[genji-centric]

Hii! I really like your work:) Hope you’re doing well! I’ve never requested anything from anyone on tumblr lol

Could you write reader(f) and Genji(Blackwatch or Post-blackwatch!) hanging with friends somewhere like at a party/gathering/bar and someone is clearly flirting with the reader but they’re clueless and Genji gets jealous and possessive? You can add if he interjects slightly or not, just want the ending to be nsfw 👀💦!

Ahh, I feel embarrassed 💀

Omg tsym!! And don't be!! You're asking this blog, yk.. the one created by pure lust for a fictional character so shhh. Never be ashamed of requests, I have the anon option for a reason ^^ I've chosen Blackwatch Genji because he is so much fun to write and absolutely strikes me as the type to be jealous. And sorry this took so long!! Enjoy ^^

Genji was always doing his job, whatever Reyes told him to do it was done. Overwatch was the reason he was alive, so it was his only motive in his new robotic life. His days were cold, devoid of the relaxed afternoons out in the sun. Instead of laying down in the gardens of the Shimada estate Genji would now be in medical office, or a back alley taking out a target. He never had that warmth again, even most of his body could never truly feel warm.

And yet somehow, Genji found someone. It felt like decades since he last felt the embrace of a woman, being looked at with such love regardless of how monstrous he saw himself. Which is why once he got a taste, he would never, never in a million years, let someone look at you the same way he got to.

You were everything. He finally felt alive, not just a being who was supposed to return the favor for living. You understood him. You were like a drug, a feeling of pure euphoria he never felt. Everything before Overwatch felt distant, blurry, and plagued by hatred of the one person he saw to be a friend let alone brother. Nobody could take that feeling or normalcy away from him, no man was deserving of you. You chose him, he was the only person to see you in such a way.

Genji grew to be both needy and lovesick for you, not that he didn't know it was wrong.. but after so long without love a man can change.

He was far different from the man he once was, Genji Shimada was popular with women. His spare time having a group of girls wanting a piece of the rich bad boy persona he had. Genji never really understood that feeling of jealousy the women around him had towards eachother. He'd always laugh at them, lighthearted of course but he didn't understand why. Not like he was fighting for attention, girls were easy. At least back then.

Which is why he glared daggers at the man who was sitting in his seat at the bar. Reyes had given him the night off, a rare luxury and you two decided to go on a little out of hour work function at some higher end bar. Overwatch didn't make them official but many people and their close loved ones were.

And Genji was well aware of the bastard cowboy in his spot. Cole Cassidy was the face he had to see countless times, never taking missions seriously and a real lack of care that just ticked him off in every conceivable way. Maybe that's how people thought of him before, but Cole just ticked him off more then he usually did.

Your smile was the only thing to keep that blood in the countless tubes of his body flowing. And that wasn't directed at him, no. The way you looked at Cole.. Genji hated it. He felt his arm shift, but he didn't retrieve the built in shurikens like he oh so wanted, as much as he wanted to pounce at the cowboy he knew better.

Genji knew one dumb action was enough to get him in hot waters, either with Reyes or the doctor responsible for his very life at the other table. Instead he just stepped over to you both, he was seething with anger. Cole had his back to the cyborg but you could see the slight bit of Genji's face he made visible. And you knew when he was angry.

"Cole. Move."

Was all the man said, cold and robotic. When he was pissed, the vocal box he had installed never failed to put people around him tense when he wanted them to be. Yet Cole just turned his head slightly, giving a casual shake of his head.

"What? Can't a man just have a little chat with a fine young lady?"

"Not with, Y/N. Now move."

In all honesty, you didn't see him in that way. Genji was all you needed, yet here you were not even aware of Cassidy trying to replace that. You were angry too, hell, Genji definitely made you two official and yet here was some rugged gunslinger not even making his flirting obvious. You definitely didn't mean to encourage it, just being polite and here Genji was seeing the worst.

Cole seemed peeved, but suprisningly got up with out a fight. Perhaps working with Genji gave him more insight to know when he should pick his battles, this moment definitely not being one of them. As you expected Genji to sit down he didn't, still standing behind the now empty chair. Odd, as you opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

"We're going back home."

You thought about arguing, but that was clearly not the right thing to do. The ride home was quiet, and Genji still seemed ready to pounce at anyone who looked at you. If it wasn't Cole flirting you know anyone else would have to go to a hospital, not a single doubt there.

Stepping back into your shared apartment Genji still was quiet, a silent rage that spoke his feelings loud. The air felt tense, like everything around you both was waiting for what Genji was about to do. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you saw him look back to you. His eyes narrowed.

"Why did you let him?"

You felt cold, he still had an edge to his voice.

"I.. I just thought he was being nice.. I know he was your coworker and just wanted to be friendly.."

"Friendly? Cassidy doesn't do shit unless he gains something."

Genji leaned over you, your breath hitched when you looked up to him. His brows were furrowed, and his nose scrunched from a presumed frown. He gave you a look over, focusing more downwards past your face.

He let out an angered sigh, hands shifting behind his head to remove the metal visor he had. Genji tossed the peice of metal onto a nearby chair, he turned back. You could see the displeased expression, a mix of annoyance and something else.

"Damned Cole.."

Was all he said before practically pouncing on you, pulling you close and kissing you. He nipped at your lips slightly, the kiss was clumsy. He was desperate for you, he wanted to claim you. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath.

"You're mine.. nobody else's."

You nodded.

"I'm yours."

"Good girl."

He kissed you once more, but ended it faster. He started to walk over to the bedroom, you followed him.

He opened the door for you, as you stepped in you heard the door shut and a click of the lock. You knew Genji always kept his door locked. He always was like that so the sound didn't startle you, but you always knew he locked the door when you two would fool around.

Your thoughts stopped when you felt him grab your arm harshly, not enough to hurt you but just enough to pull you to the bed. Genji pushed you down, your back hit the soft blankets of your comforter.

The man above you wasted no time in joining you on the bed, both your guy's legs dangled off the edge. That didn't matter, Genji was quick to tackle you to the mattress. He captured your lips into another heated make out, his hands roamed around your body. Grabbing at your flesh through your clothes, you could feel the hardening shaft in his pants against your leg. He wasn't getting any friction, he groaned into the kiss, clearly wanting more. He pulled away, panting like a dog in heat.

"Hah.. you're mine.. Y/N. Nobody else's."

His lids were half lidded, but held a passion that he always would have during his time with you. Genji was always head over heels for you, and being so close made him almost drunk at the feeling. And to think someone like Cole would try to steal it from him.

In the mix of lust and love for you, his hazy mind still had leftover resentment from the bar. He knew it wasn't you, and yet.. you still talked to him.

Genji always rode the fine line of right and wrong. Before he still tried to be a good person, the things he would do in the bedroom remained pretty vanilla. But now, he saw it as something he could never have again, yet he does. That passion always makes him indulge roughly, grabbing and skin and biting until blood spills.

Just like now, how he ruts at a hard and fast pace. As he kissed you he nipped at your lips, groaning at the slight taste of iron on his tongue. Genji's grip was firm, too firm. The hand he had left of his broken body dug it's nails into the side of your torso. The other harshly gripping into the meat of your arm, like he still couldn't quite grasp his grip strength.

And yet, it still wasn't enough.

Genji pulled away, pulling his hands away too. The lack of contact made you wine, he smirked.

"Hah.. still want more? You want me?"

You nodded, he was all you ever wanted.

"Me? And not.. not some drunk cowboy?"

No. Cole could never compare, he wouldn't treat you with such high regard as Genji does. Each act of love cementing in place how truly honored he is to have you. Nobody is special like Genji, those deep red eyes, that soft black hair.

"No.. only you, Genji.."

You shyly smiled, blush creeping onto your cheeks. Genji smiled, a warm and soft smile spreading across his face. Everytime you said something like that he could never get enough, no drug in the world could compare.

Genji began to continue running his hands along your sides, letting out content grunts and groans as he did. He was always vocal about how you made him feel, this time no different from the rest. Aside from how much more he enveloped your senses, like everything you had was his and his alone. No man could love you like he could, no man could fuck you like he could.

He shifted so he could start to tug and the hem of your pants, the fabric blocking him from his goal. You were quick to let him remove the garmets, leaving you in your underwear. With a content sigh he reached down, running his fingers along the front of your panties right agasint your clit.

"Tsk.. already so wet for me.. and only me."

His fingers slipped past the thin fabric, he ran circles into your bud of nerves. Slow. Deliberate. Teasing.

"Genji.. please.."

"Shhh.. I'm with you.. let me have my fun, Y/N.."

He placed soft, delicate kisses along ypur neck, chuckling at the noises you made from his touch.

"So needy.. so perfect.."

Genji continued to swirl his finger along your clit, always so precise in where to touch you. He had expierence, and now everything he learned he used on you, his actions always had a goal. And that goal was always the same, make you feel good.

He wanted to be the only source of pleasure you got, his body was broken, but he wanted him to be the only way you could cum. The pride he felt when feeling you throb to his touch, the whimpers of pleasure from what he did.. Genji wanted more.

His breaths were hot and heavy against your ear, air would be sucked in through his teeth. Even giving you pleasure was enough to make him grunt in your ear, it felt amazing and overwhelming all at once. With his free hand he reached down and tugged at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

"I need you.. now."

He placed a needy kiss to your neck, his lips were warm. The constant friction to your clit made your head feel dizzy, Genji always knew how to touch you. Your senses heightened, the feeling of pleasure started to build up.

"Genji.. mm close.."

He let out a little chuckle.

"Yes.. I know Y/N.. cum for me."

The feeling in your stomach tightened, he kept his fingers moving at the same pace. It all felt so good.. it was Genji.. he was there and all for you. It all became too much, the tension snapping as you went over the edge. His fingers kept the pace, riding you through your orgasm.

"That's it.. fuck.. Y/N you do so much to me.. you don't even know.."

He pulled his hand away, he held his hand in front of your face. A content smirk across his features. He splayed them apart, making a show of your fluids connecting in a string along his fingers. While maintaining eye contact he ran his tongue along them. Seemingly savoring the taste.

"Taste so good too.. and all mine to enjoy.."

Nothing could compare to the love he had for you.. how much he enjoyed having you all to himself. Genji needed more, he pulled away, ripping down his sweatpants and boxers to free his throbbing cock. He sucked in a breath through his teeth, no longer having to deal with the constraints of his clothing.

He kicked the clothes no longer needed to the ground, he would pick up later. Genji gave you a playful smile before he pushed your legs up, giving him easy access.

"I've wanted this since the bar.. you looked so good in the lighting.."

He pressed the tip against you, him grunting at the feeling. Even the smallest things got him vocal, Genji lived and breathed for you. The clutches you had on him could never compare, he was all yours. Genji wanted you all to himself. With the slick from your previous orgasm he was able to slide in with ease, the warmth had him gasping.

"Y/N.. hah.. I love you.."

You couldn't help but whimper, for each moment like this every word he said couldn't help but add more blush to your cheeks. He continued to ease into you, the stretch was just to much but not enough. He was big, but not the the point it hurt.

Genji was halfway inside now, he ran his lone still flesh hand along your hip. His hand was warm, compared to the usual cold he was.

He pushed in more, his cock stretching you out perfectly. As he was fully in, he let out a shaky sigh. Holding your hips with both hands, his thumbs rubbing circles into your flesh.

"You.. Y/N.. Only you.."

Everything he did was for you now, nothing and nobody could compare. He slid out before pressing himself back in, the motion earning more noises from you. He smirked, repeating it again, and again. The pace was slow, but as he continued the desperation to fully burry himself in you grew. Soon he was thrusting in fast, the drip on your hips was rough as he slammed his cock deeper into you.

Genji whined at the feeling, you just felt so good. He couldn't care the idea of someone having you beneath them like he had.

The feeling of his cock repeatedly pressing against the sweet spot inside, it made your toes curl. Genji shuddered, groaning and gasping at how tight you felt. You both felt close to your approaching orgasms. His hand reached down between you, rubbing circles into your clit.

The added stimulation soon became too much, the tightening in your stomach snapped as you came. The feeling of you pulsing made Genji grunt out some curses before he fucked into you faster. Harder. His mind clouded with his own orgasm soon approaching.

His rubbing on your clit stopped before he was holding onto your hips to the point that it hurt, Genji moaned as he came deep inside you. His hips faltered and ropes of cum spurted inside. Genji closed his eyes in bliss, times like this made him feel whole again. Being buried deep inside the lone person he valued, he felt like him. Regardless of the metal his body was mostly made of, he felt you around him. He heard you moan his name. You were his, and he was yours.

Genji nuzzled into your neck, placing a kiss to your collarbone. You both could worry about cleaning up afterwards, all that mattered to him was laying in the bliss of your highs and eachother. Genji had a content smile on his face, before he spent his nights alone. He was cold, alone.. angry. In your arms he felt seen, comforted. It was like those peaceful days on the Shimada estate, but now he had someone he could see a future with, his future with. Nobody else could ever dream of it, nobody.

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

Some Kind of Disaster - Preview

Gally (TMR) x Fem!Reader

Concept: You saw Gally take a spear through the chest, and you are more than shocked to find him alive and well, in front of your eyes.

Preview Word Count: 970

If you like this preview, follow my writing blog @sundrop-writes and turn on notifications there as the full fic will be posted there sometime within the next few months when I have the time and energy to edit it. I may or may not make a TMR taglist, I'm not sure??

A/N: This is based entirely on the movie version of Gally, as I haven't read the books and don't plan on doing so. The title comes from an All Time Low song of the same name - which I would highly recommend listening to in order to get the vibes for this fic. Also apparently this is the same concept as a dozen other Gally fics, but I don't really care right now - because I got inspired to do it and it's entirely self indulgent, and this is my take on the concept lmao. I am currently on hiatus, but I've been working on fics as a form of stress relief during this time - but I haven't been editing fics. This fic will be posted after its edited sometime within the next month or two. (And there is already a sequel in the works, shhh.) Anyway, I hope you enjoy this, and feedback is much appreciated!

Warnings: the full fic will be smut, but this is more of a tease of that; the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; spoilers for the films if you haven't seen them; arguing that turns into kissing; Gally has a self-deprecating/insecure inner monologue; mentions of Newt x Reader (it's one-sided in this fic, but may be something more later on ;)); Gally being possessive, Gally being rough (but the reader likes it); mention of Gally masturbating to thoughts of the reader; implications of Gally being taller than the reader (which I think is likely for most people cause Will Poulter is pretty fuckin tall); technically virginity loss (but it's not a big focus of the fic) - it's more about two people naturally enjoying their first time together (and I wrote this the same way I would write a first time in a relationship with two slightly more experienced characters) - and also nothing majorly sexual comes up in this part; this section: heated kissing with intentions towards sex, and that's pretty much it.

...

“Look, I’m sorry I’m not like them, okay?”

He spat out these words bitterly when you didn’t speak, and this left you confused. “I’m sorry I’m not some dumb brave hero guy-” 

You reached out and roughly shoved the middle of his chest again. Unknowingly, this aggravated the healed scar where the spear had gone through him, sending a dull ache through him at having the tender pink skin so roughly prodded without his chest armor on this time. 

“You’re so stupid!” You barked back, utterly insulted by his words. 

He thought this was par for the course, that you would begin hurling more insults before storming out. He thought that you would tell him his supposed ‘death’ had been the best thing that had ever happened to you, and the longing looks Newt had given you were truly something more. 

“God, you’re so-!” 

You choked on your own words and tears welled up in your eyes, and you took a sharp breath before you continued. 

“You are that dumb brave hero guy!” You yelled back, speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

Gally gaped at you, and you continued. 

“What do you think all that was?” You gestured vaguely behind yourself, obviously speaking about the events earlier in the day - when he had rushed into heavy bomb fire to drag you and the others to safety. “That was the dumbest hero guy thing I have ever seen.” You said, putting a stain of emphasis on the word ‘dumb’, pinching his own phrasing for it right in the ass. 

“That was nothing, I just did that because you were in danger, and-” 

“And that’s exactly what Thomas would have done.” You replied, quickly cutting him off. “You’re every bit as good as him. You are.” 

There was a tense moment where you stared him down, deep contemplation knit across his features while you waited for him to agree with you. 

“I wasn’t when you left the Maze.” He added on, quiet guilt floating through his voice. “I wasn’t brave then. I was a coward. I couldn’t be what you needed-” 

“You have always been what I need, Gally. When will you get that through your thick shank skull?” 

You were done rehashing the past. 

You were done contemplating the details of what could have been. It hit you truly then - all that mattered to you now was the fact that Gally, your Gally was in front of you, somehow alive and well. And though it was something you never could have predicted, you wouldn’t let such a beautiful thing slip through your fingers. 

You reached out and grabbed the front of his sweatshirt, pulling him forward roughly. At the end of that jerking motion, he was met with your lips, and he sunk into the kiss without a second thought, closing his eyes and letting out a soft sigh that shouldn’t have suited him so well. Adding to that softness as he reached up to gently cup your cheeks while you gnawed at him with a feral passion. 

This is exactly what he had been waiting for. This was the reunion he had wanted all along. 

In a moment, the touch, your desperate grip on the front of his shirt, the way you ran your teeth along his bottom lip, edging toward something more - it triggered something within him. A possessive streak over you that had long been dormant; something once fueled by rage and jealousy and fear over the bad things that might happen to you if he wasn’t constantly looking over your shoulder. Now, it came from something much deeper. 

That immature love he had felt for you that had only grown and matured during your time apart, adding to a hungry passion for you now that he had you back in his arms - now that he could feel the heat of your skin, smell you, hear the whimpering patter of your breath and know that you were so damn real. (Not just another falsehood of his imagination with the details poorly filled in that he tried to soothe himself with, while he had a hand on his cock.) 

He was the one who charged at you this time, shoving you backwards and walking tightly with you, crowding you back until you hit a wall. You hadn’t truly taken in your surroundings, and if you had half a mind to, you would have noticed that this was some kind of dingy store room - used for scavenged spare parts for the vehicles and old guns that needed to be repaired in order to be put into use. 

But your brain didn’t take any of that in when your back made contact with the wall, Gally still kissing you fiercely, making you downright dizzy. You didn’t have time to think when one of his hands took a possessive hold on your thigh, hiking your leg up around his hip while his presence loomed over you, like the perfect protective wall you always felt that he was. He continued the heated liplock for a moment before he pulled away for air, and then, a particular query couldn’t be contained within you. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” You asked, half-teasing, still holding your death grip on his shirt. 

There was a particular hum between your thighs - something hot and beating and alive, a calling that demanded to be answered. You knew that you would be devastated if Gally stopped too soon or didn’t rise to that call. So you had to know what his intentions were now to prepare yourself for the potential disappointment. 

“Showing you how much I missed you.” He answered firmly, entirely certain, leaning in to capture your mouth again - pressing his whole body tightly against yours now. 

It sent a thrill through you - knowing that he would answer that call and thensome.

[sports-on-sundays]

It kills me to see all the requested: nope! In your fanfics

How about, reader struggles to sleep due to the stress of her work & travelling so he comforts her and helps her sleep? I’ll take any f1 driver or barca player.

help me sleep / Pedri González

Summary: Pedri x girlfriend!reader

Warnings: censored cussing, sobbing, work problems, stress, anxiety

Requested?: YEs! yEs!!!!! YES, MATE, IT IS REQUESTED!!!!

Author's Note: First request, baby!!! I love you so much bestie! <3 I'm so happy you saw my subtle-not-subtle begs for requests 😭!!! And I hope it's okay I chose Pedri; the other day I was having major I-Miss-Pedri syndrome that we've all been having for the past however many months (I don't even want to think about how long it has been) so I decided as a tribute to my boy, the first request on my blog should be him.

I say 'tribute' as if he's dead or something 😭

I feel like I'm acting way too excited about this request for it to be normal, but that's okay! I'm happy, and I owe it all to you! Now, let's get into this-

Tick tock, tick tock, tick tock went the clock on the wall. That stupid old clock that wasn't even set to the right time. You sat on the living room couch, at 2:34 A.M., dealing with work sh*t.

You walked in this evening, feeling ready to literally collapse, and was greeted by your boyfriend as the welcoming committee. It was sweet. He had bought you your favorite treat and flowers and everything and let you snack on it. Had a little snuggle with you. And the moment you stood up, telling him you had to unpack from your long work trip, he pulled you back down on the couch. "No way," he had said. "You're tired. Your bags can wait 'til tomorrow. For now, just relax."

And he really had convinced you. He really had. Soon after that, you had gone to your bedroom and gotten snuggled in together, and within minutes, you were fast asleep.

Only to wake up three hours later. You stared at the ceiling for a solid fifteen minutes, unable to fall back asleep as the stress of work and everything you hadn't gotten done and needed to get done crushed you.

Realizing there was no chance of you falling back to sleep now, you slipped out of bed as slowly as you could, as to not wake up your boyfriend, and quietly walked (or rather, stumbled, because of the extreme lack of sleep) to the living room.

And so now you sit on the couch, barely alive, feeling like a lump on a log but on steroids, dealing with work sh*t.

Suddenly, you get a message from one of your co-workers, though. Bad news... You click on it, and in the moment, with everything you've already gone through within the last seventy-two hours, this is enough.

You swallow, your phone slipping out of your hands. I'm trying so hard. How could my job be on the line? Your head falls into your hands, and you let out a angry groan, letting out quick, little breaths.

God, I can't do this. I can't do this anymore. I need help. Please, I need help. I just can't keep doing this any longer. I can't do this anymore.

Your eyes well up, and that turns into a tear. And that tear turns into another one. And those tears turn into crying. And crying into weeping. Tired, pathetic, pitiful weeping, until you're flat-out sobbing, unable to control it. The world spins as another glowing text comes in on your phone on the rug and your laptop shows more emails and the bags in the corner of the room are still full of your things from the work trip and and and and and...

Suddenly, strong, warm arms around your trembling body. You lean into your boyfriend's body, blubbering between gasps, "Pedri you weren't supposed to wake up... I know you're going through a lot too... I don't want to stress you out... I'm sorry..."

"Shhh," he soothes, rubbing your back. "Do you really think you're on your own? My love, we help and love each other. You can be vulnerable. I know it's hard. Don't you think for a second that I don't want to help you."

"This isn't your problem..."

"Your problem is my problem, because I love you," he mutters close to your ear. He gently closes your laptop and powers off your phone. "You don't need to worry about that right now."

"Pedri-" You grip his shirt, looking at him slightly manically. "Yes I do. I could lose my job."

His jaw tightens, but he says, "What you're doing is impossible. If you lose your job because it's too hard, then maybe you shouldn't be in this job. And it's not because you're a failure. It's because you're expected to do much more than anyone should be able to handle. If you lose your job, I'll be the first to support you until you can get a new one. Okay? But we don't even need to worry about that right now, okay?"

"But-"

Suddenly he takes your wet, tear-stained cheeks in his hands, and looks at you earnestly right in the eyes. "But right now, you need to calm down. Come on; why don't we go to the bedroom, okay?"

"Uh- y- yeah," you get up, feeling terrible at how much a mess you are. Pedri walks to the bedroom with you, his arm around your shoulders the whole time. He fetches a damp rag and gently wipes your face with the cool towel. You shut your eyes, letting out a shaky breath as Pedri pulls the blanket up to your torso. You lean back, sitting upright on the blanket.

"Can I get anything for you?" he asks after he finishes, taking your hand gently.

You shake your head 'no'. "Just sit down. All I need is you."

He nods and slips onto the bed and under the blanket next to you. Straight away, you lean your head on his shoulder and clutch his hand in yours. "Y/n, you know that it'll be okay," he murmurs. Not even a question. A fact. You know that you'll be okay.

"But Pedri, what if..."

"No 'what if's right now, okay?" He pulls you closer to you, rubbing your shoulders. You sit quietly together for a while, before Pedri slowly sinks into a laying down position, pulling you down with him. You snuggle close to him, resting your head on his chest. When you yawn, he says, "You're tired. Anything I can do to help you sleep?"

You breathe gently. "Just... talk to me."

He nods and starts whispering. At first, you listen to the sweet little things he's saying as he gently strokes your hair, but soon you're too tired to comprehend them. Soon your eyes are fluttering shut, and your mind is switching from daytime thoughts to nighttime dreaming.

Within your dream, you feel a soft kiss on your forehead and Pedri's perfect sweet-as-honey voice murmur, "Buenas noches, mi amor."

[hufflepuffwritingstuff2]

Whumptober 2024 No. 21 Altprompt- Secrets Revealed

This is the first fill that I'm doing an altprompt!

Villain stepped over the debris and rubble and stalked toward Hero’s unconscious body. The fight had been brutal, but they had finally managed to take out their biggest adversary. They were just about to deliver the killing blow when they noticed their opponent’s mask, askew. They recognized that face.

Villain dropped to their knees, pressing their hands into the largest of Hero’s wounds.

“[Hero’s Name], hey, hey, stay with me, stay with me, Love.”

Hero grimaced, but didn’t respond.

“Help! Someone help, please!”

There was no one around to answer. Villain picked their lover up in a bridal carry and jumped into the air, flying as fast as they could to the nearest hospital.

…

Villain burst through the doors to the emergency room.

“Help, please! Hero is injured!”

Nurses came by straight away while the receptionist stared in horror. They dialed the number for the police- that was Villain standing there!

“Vil’n?” Hero asked, cracking an eye open.

Villain kissed Hero on the forehead.

“I’ll be back for you,” they promised.

The nurses wheeled them into the operating room. Villain turned to the sound of guns trained on them.

“Police! Stand down!”

Villain held up their hands in surrender, then let a red blast of power surge through them. They ran from the hospital.

…

Hero stirred to the sound of steady beeping. They opened their eyes and saw Lover staring down at them.

“Thank goodness,” Lover said.

“Lover? Wha- what ha-”

“Shhh, shh,” Lover said, brushing the fringe from Hero’s face, “it’s going to be okay.”

Hero seemed satisfied with the answer, and quickly slipped back into sleep.

…

Villain Lover slumped back in their chair. This was a mess. [Hero’s Name] was Hero. Did Hero even know Lover was Villain? How could they possibly tell them? Scratch that, how could they possibly let Hero know that they knew their biggest secret? They watched the steady rise and fall of Hero’s chest. They were alive, that’s what was important.

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@electrons2006 @just-a-space-rabbit

[lmkimagines]

Heya! It's my first time asking on this blog hehe.. So from this post

“maybe, in another life” kisses: knowing that this is the last time you’re going to kiss them, and making it count. pulling them in and then away. parting, your lips lingering for more.

This prompt perhaps with Macaque? 👉👈

I wrote a happy ending under the cut because my poor heart can't handle angst without a happy ending.

Macaque 

It’s right before a huge fight. He pales looking at the monster before the two of you, quickly calculates his likelihood of getting out of this alive then makes a snap decision. 

“Hey, look at me.” He says. When you do, he stares for a moment, memorizing your face then he grabs you and kisses you with all the emotion and desperation he can manage. He lingers for a moment, lips still lightly brushing yours after he pulls away. He blinks out of his daze and shoves you into Wukong’s arms. 

“If you ever cared about me, you’ll get them as far away from here as possible.” Macaque said to Wukong “I’ll keep this thing busy for as long as I can.” 

With that, he speeds off before you can get a word out to try and stop him. Wukong throws you over his shoulder and you two fly off in the opposite direction. You kick and fight him but it proves useless as the sight of Macaque fades into the distance. 

Happy Ending

When he got back, he was really injured, but instead of getting healed properly, he headed straight to you. You open the door after he knocks. He practically falls into your arms, losing his balance as he tries to step in. 

“Are you okay?! Oh my god!” You cry out in surprise. You started tearing up, happy to see him alive at least. Instead of saying anything, Macaque grabs you and kisses you again. More gently than last time but with just as much emotion. He pulls away slowly and wipes your tears away. 

“Hey, shhh. It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I’m sorry, "he says.  “I’m sorry. I love you and I'm so sorry.”  

“Just shut up.” You say and sniffle a bit. Macaque shuts his mouth immediately. You pull him in and kiss him this time. He relaxes into the kiss and tries to desperately pull you closer to him somehow. 

“I love you too, you reckless idiot.”

[ask-undernext]

Ask rules and other stuff

Hello everyone! Glad to see u. I am the author of this ask blog CJ KULA (she/her), this is my first experience of doing ask, so do not judge strictly. In turn, I will try to make it interesting for you. I draw in the tradition and a little bit in digital.

Questions are accepted in Russian and English

1) My au is called Undernext (posted for several years in my acc on other platforms that are used as a digital archive). The characters of the universe have different names than in the original work. (Shhh, UN!Chara is still alive)

Chara and Frisk are women

2) You are something like the inner voice of the characters :)

Please mention which character you are referring to, otherwise I will answer at my discretion, no offense?

3) Please be polite and do not ask nsfw questions

Your journey with Fran is just beginning. Stay determined.

(Nice view to Ebott)

[bucketspammer4life]

punch out tumblr posts: the holy sequel

we dont talk about the one i accidentally posted, shhh

🕶️RichAndHot21 follow

unless i see a match between don flamenco and bald bull, i wont die happy

🥊Macaroni-Mac follow

we need the wvba to make it happen @wvba-official-blog

🏆wvba-official-blog follow

@Charging-bull @Matador26 up for a fight?

♉Charging-bull follow

Hell yeah.

🌹Matador26 follow

Bring it on!

🐻 eternalhugs follow

looking back at the bald bull and don flamenco fight post is like seeing one of those "before vs after drugs" images

📀Dancing-king follow

this is don before being hit by bull. this is don after being hit by bull. dont do bulls

🦋one-and-only-heike follow

"dont do bulls" there are better ways to phrase that sentence yet you picked THAT

🐅 mirage-dance follow

"your magic counts as cheating!!!" youre just jealous i can teleport

🍀İrishlad420 follow

youre literally weak as joe without those

🐅Mirage-dance follow

you have horseshoes in your gloves and use a flail

🍀İrishlad420 follow

that isnt important right now

🍫 duckthisone follow

save me chocolate bar. save me...

🍫duckthisone follow

save me chocolate bar...

🍫duckthisone follow

nevermind i found it

👑The-King100 follow

i would eat deodorant sticks more if they didnt get stuck to the roof of my mouth. it feels like someone rubbed gasoline there

🌹Matador26 follow

why are you eating deodorant sticks??

👑The-King100 follow

youre no one to judge me. im free. im alive. im full of joy. you'll never know how good deodorant sticks taste

🍀İrishlad420 follow

hes out here living his best life eating deodorant sticks while youre getting your ass handed to you by a child

🥖Baguettedude29 follow

im so sleep deprived that im seeing spiders

🏆wvba-official-blog follow

Please don't forget to rest, we value our fighters health and would hate to see you in bad shape.

🥖 Baguettedude29 follow

no you dont

[bonnielunkas]

Maybe 🐓 or 💖?

okay!! imma do both :]

🐓 :

this one has. multiple answers so i'm just gonna talk about all the aus the animatronic thing applies to, hope that's okay :]

so in lp and rewrite, for the core 5, it's ( mostly ) the usual. gabriel is freddy, susie is chica, jeremy is bonnie, fritz is foxy, etc etc. and then it deviates when you get to golden freddy.

in lp, it's cassidy and evan, like it is ( presumably ) in canon. meanwhile, in rewrite, golden freddy is andrew and kelsey ( the latter of which wasn't killed by rodger but shhh )!! andrew doesn't stick to golden freddy often, if at all, but kelsey does cuz it's part of their whole deal

and then in terms of the puppet, charlie is puppet in lp, and cassidy is puppet in rewrite.

and then in rewrite, the toys are also possessed!! there's a post about them somewhere on my blog, but to summarize ; gilbert is toy freddy, annie is toy chica, calem is toy bonnie, and albert and sylvia are mangle.

and then in most of my other aus it's either the animatronics aren't haunted ( restless + sitcom ( sitcom doesn't even have animatronics ) ) or it's just taking from rewrite ( anything hpsverse ( hps, top, eftp. etc ) )

💖 :

hpsverse has. a lot, since there's a MUCH larger cast compared to most of my other aus. i'm just gonna go over the more important ones ( aka hps and b-team, but other characters will probably be brought up as i see fit lmao )

also i'll be covering all different kinds of relationships :]

romantic : toby and pete / sportsmix, obviously. and then of course we also have sarah and millie, hudson and stanley / hudstan, and reed and shelly!! and while they aren't as important to the story here, micheal and jeremy :]

platonic : oh god where do i begin.

so, of course we have bteam!! but there's also;

julius, sarah and abby

julius and pete

toby, reed and tabitha

reed and pickle ( which is just canon but shhh )

devon and oscar

kelsey and andrew

oswald, gregory, cassie, chuck and mott

whatever toby and literally everyone he works with got going on

likely more i'm forgetting

and then in terms of family ;

the afton-fitzgerald-thomas family ( micheal and jeremy are the parents, with their kids being gregory, cassie and patrick. eggs is there too, he's their uncle, and he's got mina :] )

evan afton and jake, making jake part of the afton family

devon and mott being bio siblings that got separated and adopted by two different families

mick and sarah being cousins

julius, alec and hazel

reed, alexa and oswald

the canon siblings of course, toby and connor / pete and chuck

kelsey and their alive family ( stacy and kyle )

[igarbagecannoteven]

2022 Writing Evaluation

thanks so much @clumsyclifford , @allsassnoclass , & @jbhmalumm for tagging me in this! i'm gonna talk about my fics in all fandoms even tho this is my music blog bc i don't have anything separated into pseuds (i strive for chaos on my ao3 account) putting it under the cut bc i'm sure it's gonna be long lol

number of stories posted on ao3: 25! 18 in 5sos, 4 in hp, and 3 miscellaneous fandoms

word count posted for this year: 40,705

fandoms i wrote for: 5sos, hp, discworld, doctor who, & dungeons and daddies

pairings: lashton (4), cashton (3), muke (2.5) (bc they're background in one), malum (2), cake (2), mashton (1), penelope/percy (1)

story with the most kudos/bookmarks/comments: burnt eggs & broken promises has the most kudos, do you wanna touch (yeah) and permanent jet lag are tied for most bookmarks, and fear the fever has the most comments

work i’m most proud of and why: i'm proud of almost all of the work i put out this year, and there are a couple ones that immediately spring to mind, but i'm going to really come out of left field here and say Being Hannah Abbott! "but megs," you might say, "why on earth would you pick the only fic that has zero kudos? it's definitely not your best written work of the year." to which i say, true! however, i have been trying to get this fic right since 10th grade! i'm now a senior in college! "but megs it's significantly less than 1k how did it take you that long" listen! listen. sometimes. you have to wait until you're good enough to finish a fic. this has more than 5 docs of different drafts saved to my laptop. also you're forgetting the fact that i'm insane

work i’m least proud of and why: okay listen. i know it's my most kudos'd work. i know that. however i am not happy with burnt eggs and broken promises. bella left me a lovely long comment on it recently that made me rethink my feelings towards it but i still think it isn't as good as it could have been so sorry folks

share or describe a favorite review you’ve received: i love it when people tell me i made them cry it's my favorite thing in the whole world best compliment to receive imo

a time when writing was really, really hard: you're assuming i remember what i was experiencing earlier in 2022 which is where you've made your mistake slkdjflskdjf ummmm i remember have a really hard time this fall semester, especially in september/october, i just couldn't get any motivation whatsoever (which tends to be my biggest problem tbh)

a scene or character you wrote who surprised you: goood question,,, you know, i really wasn't expecting to ever write a mcu au and yet pining is a strange sort of mcu au. i originally was going to write it so one half of the pairing got lost at sea and their bf was waiting on shore not sure if they were dead or alive, but the characters did not want to be like that at all which is how i ended up with poor post-snap calum (who may be getting a happy sequel someday shhh)

a favorite excerpt of your writing: i love the transformation scene in fear the fever. i just love writing body horror for some reason and i've always had strong opinions about what i think vampires & their transformations are like physically and it was a blast to get to explore that in this fic :))

how did you grow as a writer this year? i think a lot of my growth happens slowly over time and therefore is hard to pinpoint, but i took a creative writing class in the spring on opening a novel and that helped me rethink the way i start fics now. also i learned to think more about what i want out of my fic! thinking about why i write and why i post fic really helped me realize what fic writing advice to take and what to ignore (if you're like me and the goal of a fic is to write the concept the best you can, than posts talking about how it's okay to post random, unedited snippets are not actually helpful and can actually be counter-intuitive)

how do you hope to grow next year? i really want to write more often and be more disciplined about writing. as always i want to learn how to be better in the craft aspect in general (which is a goal i expect to always have, since i'll never be perfect at it) and i'd also like to be better with subtext & symbolism & ~themes~ bc i always forget to those last two and my subtext is, in my opinion, rather lacking at the moment

who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc)? bella is the best live-in cheerleader/rubber duck a writer could ask for, and i would be royally screwed without her 💙 hazel is always an incredible virtual cheerleader/ideas bouncer and i am dearly in her debt, and meghna is wonderful for fueling my wacky ideas-mobile; i am incredibly lucky that they're just a discord dm away 🥰 also she's 100% not going to see this but my mom finished her mfa program this year and has been working on finishing her novel, and writing with her and talking shop together has been very helpful in keeping me at the keyboard and with more thematically technical details (little does she know it's for my rfp fanfic lol)

anything from real life show up in your writing this year? yep! lots! keep you safe (safe as i can), an hp fic, reflects some of my worries about my little bro growing up; Questions Involving Vampires & Skirts, while not reflective of my own gender, does reflect some of my weird gender-y fuckery; just dance (gonna be okay)'s michael shares my feelings regarding dancing in empty elevators; do you wanna touch (yeah) is inspired by me visiting a craft store with my fam and touching basically everything in the store; permanent jet lag is based off of flying international with my baby bro who is Very Tall; & glasses is based off of my truly awful eyesight and how i still feel like if i have my glasses off people can't perceive me lol (yes you heard it here first folks, megs has the object permanence of a toddler)

any new wisdom you can share with other writers? write! have fun with it! go to irl critique groups if possible! don't expect things to be perfect on the first draft, because most people's first drafts are shit and that's okay! challenge yourself! don't be afraid to embrace the cringe! it's okay to settle unless it's gonna make you miserable! eat your writing frogs! don't be afraid to ask for help! get a rubber duck!

any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year? i really want to finish tis the damn fic. i'd love for it to be ready to post by december. i'm kneeling at my prefrontal cortex begging it to get its shit together enough to finish it. i'd also love to finally finish my another place songfic bc that will mean my writing's reached the level where i can actually figure out how to write the dang thing which is the dream

tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read: idk who all's done it/been tagged so if you've already done it just ignore me! and if you don't want to do it you can also ignore me lol but i'll tag @werewolfashton , @reveriesofawriter , @userbadomens , @calumthoodshands , @pixiegrl , @valiantnerdtm , & anyone else who wants to! (if you've been mainly writing for another fandom you can talk about that one as well/instead, all up to you!)

[doobnnoob-tf2]

So do I ask questions about your side blog here or at the actual side blog? Because I wanna know a thing or two about it and I wanna be sure to ask in the right place. (Also I'm rly happy this blog and the side blog are active, I've seen so many blogs that are rly awesome but aren't active so ty so much for keeping the mercs alive)

From last anon. Can you also give me a name plz? No pressure ofc!

here or there, doesn't matter!

and I do try my best, I love these guys dearly. the game is a huge comfort thing for me and I desperately needed an outlet to just sit and talk about it that isn't me role-playing as my Sniper OC lmao

as for a name.. how does Windy Anon sound to you? totally not because I've REALLY been wanting to play WindWaker again these last few days shhh