icamefromthepinterestscreenshots - Tumblr blog

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

”Free will is a length of rope and God wants you to hang yourself with it” is such a RAW line for Cas to say like whoever wrote that sentence needs a Nobel prize for literature

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

destiel, sterek, and johnlock fans to buddie fans right now:

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Whumpee who when rescued gets handcuffed for their own safety. Sure, the people around them are simply trying to protect them, but they don’t know that.

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

My sister has finally started watching BBC Sherlock and came into my room complaining that Mary got pregnant, cause she wanted her and John to get a divorce so that Sherlock and John ‘could live out their happy little lives together’

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

the hoodie…the ring…the bootcut jeans….peak trans bi performance

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Reblog if its ok to spam you with boops

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

anyway what if he was Comfy tho

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

11.23 | 12.08 | 12.10

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Whumpee who is always kept just about ill enough to never escape. Whumpee who is always just slightly reliant on whumpee because of this, or whose mind is slightly too hazy to properly understand the situation and how to get out of it.

Whumpee who isn’t ill enough to be useless, but is just about ill enough to not do anything about their situation.

Or, maybe whumper prefers whumpee to be fully reliant on them. They enjoy looking after the ill, useless whumpee, playing caretaker. They’ll spoon feed whumpee, comfort them, then at the end of the day they’ll inject whumpee with more of the thing that is making them unable to look after or be themselves.

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Over the years, people had made fun of Crowley. By people, the better word is probably demons. Mostly. A few angels. Sure, they were used to the insults - after all it was what God’s creations were best at. The demons would look down on them for living on earth, how it had made them soft, the rumours of them and an *angel* being an item. But the one thing the demon had never understood was when the Angel’s insulted them. Everytime they had the misfortune of meeting an angel (bar Aziraphale of course), the angel would always laugh at how the only demon who actually wanted to live outside of hell couldn’t even see the closest thing many humans got to heaven - the stars.

Crowley never understood what they meant. If the stars were the closest thing to heaven (at least the greatness humans thought heaven was), then he had seen them. If the stars were the most beautiful thing you could find on earth, then he had seen them. If the stars were the one thing he had so deeply loved all that time ago, he still knew them. He had had dozens of encounters with stars over the past 6000 years. He had even spent 11 years with them at one point. Because if the stars were the greatest thing in this universe, he knew to see them all he had to do was look at Aziraphale’s eyes.

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Save a horse

RIDE A COWBOY

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Hey guys,

I've been ill all week but I swear I'll get back to posting soon 🫡🫡😭

Won't lie being ill has also given me some more whump prompt ideas, which I'll make sure to write in a few days when I'm fully myself again

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

I just had an idea for a book but I can’t be bothered to write it:

A dystopian future where everyone is assigned another human. Every human is linked up to a random human at birth, so that each pair can hear each others thoughts. However, they don’t know their pair in real life. Everyone is told to report their pair if they hear ANY anti-government, anti-patriotic thoughts, complaints etc.

The government use this reporting system to get rid of ‘traitors’, therefore stopping overpopulation.

HOWEVER these 2 girls who are linked start to hear each others thoughts about love etc. and realise the other is lgbt. Obviously, being set in a dystopian world, this is very much illegal, but instead of reporting each other, they find each other and they fall in love and of course help start a revolution to overthrow the government.

Of course, theres lots of angst and fear and sadness, but in the end they get a semi-happy ending (think hunger games style - they may lose ppl but they still have each other in the end)

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Peter Sandys-Clarke in Torchwood: Captain Jack Harkness, S1E12

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Bonus:

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

I feel like we need to talk about how Ianto was only part of jacks life for like 3 years. Sure, Jack would leave for long periods of time, like when he stayed with the Doctor for a year, or when he was buried for 2000 years, then come back to Ianto, so it may have felt longer, but really Ianto was a tiny part of his life.

Jack lived for billions of years, had billions of relationships, got married hundreds of times, fell in love with thousands of people and aliens alike. Ianto really was just a blip in time.

Do you think Jack showed his later relationships a picture of Ianto, just like he showed Ianto a picture of his wife?

Do you think he forgot Ianto, do you think he just moved on?

Or do you think he gave up on love for centuries, never letting himself have a romantic relationship with anyone for ages because he knew he’d outlive them just like he outlived Ianto?

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

— Oh come on, it's just a bit of fun! Who was the last person you snogged?

[icamefromthepinterestscreenshots]

Hi! I love your writing

Could you do something like the villain finding out his nemesis hero is member of his nearly extinct (fantasy?) species?

Like the villain thought he was the last of his kin?

"You..." The villain's eyes widened. "You're..."

Between wearing either heavy make-up and coloured contacts in his civilian guise, or his hero mask when he wasn't, the hero could usually pass as human.

Unfortunately, his mask rested utterly useless in the villain's hands and he hadn't had time to do a full face before rushing out the door. The inhumanity of him was thus blatantly visible beneath the villain's devouring gaze.

"A monster?" the hero snapped. "That's rich coming from you, you-"

The villain reached up and, with the careful press of a button, his own mask slid away.

The hero froze.

The hero stared.

The whole world, and all that he was fighting for dropped away as his heart leapt and his mouth went dry and it felt like every atom in his body hummed with recognition.

The villain's eyes were the same purple shade as his own - a dark orchid-esque colour that humans couldn't quite filter properly and had no entirely accurate name for. The line of his cheek had the same glimmer of scales, though the villain's were a shimmering pearl compared to the hero's blue. He hadn't filed his teeth down to blend in like the hero had either. They were carnivore-sharp.

Dragon. In his more humanoid form, certainly, but a dragon nonetheless.

Just like the hero.

Several key facts slid into place.

"Oh," the hero said, breathless. The old language suddenly felt ready and perched on his tongue like a waterfall. He swallowed it down.

"I thought I was the only one left."

The hero's brain churned, as he struggled to compute the astounding evidence in front of him. Because he couldn't - the villain couldn't - except he obviously was.

Had he been stealing for his hoard?

"I thought I was alone," the villain said. "Are there others?!"

Mutely, dumbstruck, the hero shook his head.

He'd thought he was alone too. For so long, so very very long, he'd thought he was the only one left. And now - now. The hero scrambled belatedly to his feet, with a groan of pain. He could feel panic rising. Panic and hope and fury and longing.

The villain closed the gap in an instant, as if scared the hero might run. He curled one hand around the front of the hero's suit to hold him in place, pinning him back against the wall with a matching strength that suddenly made so much more sense. The wall behind them gave an ominous shudder.

His stare raked over the hero's body, like he could slip beneath his clothes and perform a full catalogue or history, before snapping back to the hero's mouth. His teeth.

"What did they do to you?"

"They didn't do anything. I -" There were too many questions, it was too big. The hero had no idea where to start. He reached out to grab his mask back from the villain.

The villain hurled it aside, well out of the way. His freshly-freed hand gripped the hero's wrist. Tight. Possessive.

"Why are you protecting humans?" the villain sounded somewhere between bewildered and livid. "What's wrong with you?"

The hero bristled, the fury clearing his head a little bit too. "What's wrong with me? What's wrong with you? You nearly torched half of London, are you insane?"

"They hunted us. I thought I was the only one left. Are you -"

The villain swore in old tongue. Fire-tongue, though the hero had guessed that much.

He could practically feel the heat rising off the villain, sudden and foreboding. His instincts swerved this way and that; torn between the violence of enmity, of every vicious memory they shared, and all the sheer longings of a home he'd thought lost forever.

Before he'd even fully realised it, he'd reached out, palm searching the villain's chest in turn, finding his heartbeat. Slow. Much slower than a human's could ever be.

Dragon, dragon, dragon.

Kin.

The same.

His.

"Oh, god," the hero said.

"You even sound like them," the villain said, tone not quite kind enough to be wonder. "I really thought you were human. What did they do to you?"

"They didn't do anything! Just - shut up. For one second, just shut up. I need to think. Because you - you're - oh god."

There were many arguments the hero could have made, never mind that the whole point of a secret identity was to fit in, but all he could focus on was the enormity of it.

He wasn't alone.

They weren't alone.

He didn't have to be alone.

The villain's hands moved up to his face, clutching his jaw, cradling him. The purple of his eyes began to deepen to flame.

"Come with me," he said, fully switching to the old tongue. "We shouldn't be fighting each other. You're young - you must be young if you're on their side - we'll talk. You'll tell me everything."

The worst person the hero knew was the only one who could possibly begin to understand.

It was all too much.

The hero ripped himself free, and bolted.