#a permanent resident in the fandom

[greenandbreathing]

just read your maddie/caitlyn fic and ohhhh????my?? god??? life changing. i know you said you probably won’t write for them/arcane ever again (ooooo 🌀🌀🌀 you wanna write more maddie/cait fic so bad) but id love to know if you have any headcanons for their relationship dynamics 💕

hey omg thank you so much for reading !!! do i have headcanons…… oh my friend. you doubt me

(i'm gonna keep these sfw but if people want specific nsfw ones i couldddd be persuaded. speaking of which, this is the fic in question)

first of all i wanna start off with this. if you think they were ever “in a relationship” or “girlfriends” you are making your first mistake. here we have a woman who has just lost her mother and the real love of her life within a week, and then immediately she is handed more power than she even truly knows what to do with, try as she might to make it seem like she has it under control. she’s grieving and heartbroken but she doesn’t have time to manage anything  because she has a war to deal with. and then we have her subordinate, her coworker. imagine you are a girl with a raging hard on for power who has just witnessed a very hot officer ascend to leader of her house and your commander. she’s also in such a vulnerable position that it would be impossible not to offer her your shoulder to cry on. caitlyn is not herself, maddie is a horny twenty year old lesbian. i don’t believe that maddie was a traitor from the beginning, but i do think she was being remarkably selfish and did not care that caitlyn was using her. furthermore, i think she was into that part of it.

more under the cut!

THAT BEING SAID! there is nothing wholesome about what was going on between the two of them. maddie’s smart, and she feeds cait all the praise and validation she needs to create a bandaid on her heart, and caitlyn takes it all in because nobody else is around to take care of her. at a point where she has never felt more unloved, here is a girl willing to smother her. fine. 

i do think that the deleted scene where maddie approaches caitlyn at a bar and has a heart to heart with her did happen. i think that’s how it started. i think they shot the shit and had a few too many drinks and caitlyn invited maddie home with her, and it startled her the next morning when she realized she didn’t feel any regret about it, only a dull sort of. well. that happened. it was kind of cathartic? i actually think she had a spring in her step following the first time, which pissed her off because it meant for sure that this probably wasn’t going to be a one time thing. and it wasn’t. 

maddie loves it. she sees it as being useful and helpful, but she also folds so easily for a girl who will boss her around. she’s a follower to her core: when someone’s in charge, she has to be the best for them (i.e. gold star sticker — good job, maddie!) 

maddie lovesss getting to stay the night at cait’s. her sheets are soft and always clean, there’s no risk of being interrupted or overheard, and she will take every opportunity to use her fancy shower (and maybe— no, definitely— all of her expensive products. you can’t convince me that she isn’t secretly having everything showers with cait’s stuff) 

maddie is an abhorrent bed sharer— blanket stealer, toss and turner, the works. the only way cait is able to get under the covers fully is if she snuggles up to maddie, which maddie occasionally (unwisely) mistakes as genuine affection. its not, really. (although, cait will sometimes relish in the comfort a little more than she should, too. but she’s more aware of herself) 

i wish i had a clear answer on how i think maddie switched sides, but it’s so difficult to sort out in my head because i do think season 2’s writing is really flawed in a lot of ways (not an unpopular opinion), one of those being maddie’s whole character. i think ambessa manipulated her though, i don’t think maddie turned on cait on her own. if anyone has thoughts on this i’d be interested to hear them! 

[theladyfae]

nothing to me will ever be more iconic than my beloved mutual managing to get me so invested in a (rarepair) ship for a media i had no previous interaction with that i was actively making my own headcanons abt their potential relationship dynamic and making song associations and engaging in others’ brainrot for months before i ever even considered getting in to said media. and now a year later i’m finally writing fic for them but still know next to nothing abt what they’re like in canon cause i still haven’t made it to that part of the story, the memories of the shared delusion are genuinely the only thing keeping me going.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣

⊱ Blood-stained Lips ⊰ || Mr. Scarletella X Reader

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Character(s): Mr. Scarletella (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (MC’s Lore and Specifically Scarletella Rain Ending), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror Elements), Mild Jealousy, Slightly Suggestive. Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Light Angst (Hurt/Comfort), Pre-established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~2,140 words Request: “Hi! Is it okay if I ask for another homicipher fic? I just got all the endings, and I'm obsessed. What about Scarletta trying to be physically affectionate with MC after seeing how protective Mr. Crawling is with them (perhaps even secretly peeking/knowing how often the crawling man hugged you, you two petting or shaking each other's heads, and using the word "cute" on each other.) I need Scarletta jealous 🫣” Author’s Note: Okay so, like… Mr. Scarletella is probably one of the more nerve-wracking characters for me to write for, but I absolutely adored this ask, so I gave writing him in drabble format a shot! (It’s also pretty funny how the fandom has unanimously agreed that Mr. Crawling and Mr. Scarletella would not get along and would be actively antagonistic toward each other lmao). I think his dynamic with the MC is fascinating… the whole parasocial relationship the two of them have going on throughout the game is such a unique choice (love the simp energy he gives off, too, since I wasn’t expecting that from his character haha). This ended up being kind of suggestive at the end?? Nothing too crazy or anything, just him being very happy about being able to touch you. Anyway, I hope this isn’t too OOC – enjoy! 

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡

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Even though his memories had been forgotten, parts of himself and his identity erased after you successfully defeated him, Mr. Scarletella occasionally found himself thinking of moments he couldn’t even recall witnessing. 

In his mind, he sees you with another resident of the realm, their long black hair cascading down their form while their laugh echoes through an empty corridor. He sees their fingers threading through your hair, moving their hands up and down along your scalp, and tousling your locks… 

Mr. Scarletella hears your laughter fill the space, too. The sound is light and airy, and he finds his chest tightening at the hazy memory. It’s an uncomfortable feeling and certainly was not one he enjoyed experiencing. It almost felt like knives being shoved repeatedly into his torso, a stinging and aching sensation that spread throughout his entire body from a singular point.

Almost absentmindedly, his hand comes to rest on the left side of his chest, the side where a heart would be located if he possessed one like you did. Mr. Scarletella hears a gentle murmur interrupt his thoughts, a noise that cuts through the fog in his mind like a saw slicing through flesh and sinew. 

“You okay?” Your voice echoes, and his pitch-black eyes dart down to meet with yours. You’re holding a red umbrella – his very heart and soul – in your hands. Your hold isn’t painful, nor is it gentle. It was perfect, just like you, he thought to himself. 

Rain drips down the water-resistant material of the umbrella that was permanently stained a bright, bloody red, and it falls onto the clear rubber of your raincoat before sliding down your form. Both the umbrella and your coat effectively keep your body dry from the elements. Mr. Scarletella, on the other hand, was completely soaked, having no issue walking beside you while the rain clung to his clothing and chilled his skin.  

If he concentrated hard enough, he could feel the heat of your body spreading throughout his chest and warming his form from the inside out. Oh, how happy he would be if the small flame within him sparked into something more, forming a fiery inferno inside his body. Even if you were to burn him, set an uncontrollable blaze within him that only left an empty husk behind, he would be content.  

Your brows are furrowed while you crane your neck back to look at him, the sound of rain around the two of you, effectively breaking up the long stretch of silence. He was acting a bit strange today, you thought to yourself. While the man dressed in red was never really normal in the conventional sense, he was much more quiet today than usual. 

Mr. Scarletella’s gaze used to be immensely nervewracking, his hollow stare once being able to cause the hair on the back of your neck to stand on edge, but you had grown used to it after spending so much time together. The two of you were in your old realm, the one you left behind to stay in the other world. You were fairly close to the haunted apartments he used to call his home and the site where you would dump the bodies of anyone unfortunate to cross your path… The start of everything that led you to where you are now. 

“You quiet… What you thinking about?” You ask him, shifting the hold of the umbrella in your hand to the other. You hadn’t brought your weapon today, wanting to give Mr. Scarletella a chance to experience a “typical” date, one that didn’t consist of violence and murder for a change. However, he had been in a daze since the two of you arrived, and that was somewhat out of character for him. 

Shifting your stance to better face him, your feet sink slightly into the mud beneath you. You look down at your boot-clad feet and frown. While you had grown used to being in a constant state of uncleanliness since the other world didn’t have showers readily or easily available, it was still quite annoying to clean mud from the soles of your shoes. This was the type of mud that threatened to pull your shoe from your foot if you were to try tugging on it, but you pushed your frustration to the side to focus on the man in front of you. 

Mr. Scarletella hums and reaches his hand out to your head, placing his palm against your hair, and you freeze. Your hair sticks to his deathly cold hand, almost as if static electricity was coursing through his fingers. 

It was soft under his skin, your hair, yet he could feel that some knots had begun to form near the base of the strands. Then, he begins to rub his hand back and forth, effectively messing your hair up even more. Your mind blanks at his sudden movement, the action reminding you of Mr. Crawling.

“Why… you touch me?” You ask, staring up at him as the rain begins to fall even harder, your grip on the umbrella in your hand tightening around the handle. The rain was so heavy that you could barely see into the distance, the horizon completely covered in a thick, gray mist. A sudden gust of wind blew Mr. Scarletella’s red hair, and within his usually hollow eyes swirled something you had never seen within them before. 

It reminded you of a storm rolling in across the ocean waves, a variety of emotions spiraling within his ashen irises. His hand never once leaves your body, instead sliding down the side of your head to cup your cheek in his palm. Whenever he touched you, it felt like TV static against your flesh, and you could see white-and-black dots begin to dance across your vision as a light hum filled your ears. 

Mr. Scarletella’s flesh is cold, and it reminds you of a corpse the chill his touch leaves in its wake. His head tilts to one side and he whispers to you, his voice barely audible above the rain crashing around you, “I want you – want to touch you.” 

Before you can even speak or formulate a response to his words, he quickly pulls his hand away from your skin. It felt like you had burnt him, yet he found himself not minding the stinging sensation that danced across his flesh. His hand dropped lifelessly to his side before he muttered an apologetic, “Sorry. Shouldn’t have touched you.”

After taking a moment to gather your thoughts, you shake your head and tell him, “...You okay,” before turning on your heel to walk away. You glance at him over your shoulder, his form becoming further soaked from the storm. It was kind of amusing, you thought, seeing such a previously powerful entity look like a stray, sopping-wet cat. 

Eventually, you gesture for him to come with one hand, the order of, “Follow me.” coming out of your lips, loud enough for him to hear.

He teleports to you before you can even finish your sentence, staring down at you with those unnerving eyes of his as he waits to see where you want to go. A huff of air forces its way out of your nose, chuckling at his obedience before you lightly graze his hand with your nails. It’s strange touching him, his form more like an illusion than a body made of flesh and blood. 

The two of you make your way across the waterlogged fields and flooded, muddy roads. Your footsteps splash in the puddles beneath you as you walk while Mr. Scarletella moves without making a single noise, merely a ghost in this world. Soon, however, the abandoned apartments come into view, and you lead him inside the old concrete structure. 

You pause as soon as your feet make contact with the cracked floor of the building, making sure that you can’t hear the sound of another living being within the hollow corridors. You close the umbrella when nothing catches your attention, making sure to shake it a few times to try and remove the raindrops that have accumulated on its surface. You watch as the water falls to the ground, making small, dark grey circles on the concrete. 

Looking over your shoulder, you watch as Mr. Scarletella watches you in return while holding the umbrella, waiting patiently for you to say something as a shiver runs down his spine. His hands that were hanging at his sides were closed, and he was clenching and unclenching his fingers almost like he was fighting the urge to place his palms against your skin once more.  

You can’t help but chuckle at his demeanor, placing the now-closed umbrella down so it was leaning against the wall. You do the same, leaning back on the wall before you hold your arms out to him, saying with a small smirk, “You can touch me.”

You jumped slightly at the speed at which he appeared in front of you. His body hunched over yours while he watched your expression intently, his black eyes partially hidden behind the thick curtain of red hair that cast shadows across his sickly complexion. Mr. Scarletella places his palm on your head, telling you smoothly, “Thank you.”

One of his hands begins to tentatively pat your skull while he enjoys the feeling of your hair against his palm. Then, his other hand soon joins, and you close your eyes while you allow him to pat you like a dog. It felt a bit demeaning in a way, but also strangely comforting, and it reminded you of one of the friendliest residents of the other world you had met. 

Your eyes flutter shut almost out of habit, allowing the man in front of you to enjoy the rare moment with you. His hands started out resting against the top and sides of your head, the movement of palms against your hair causing it to become messy and sticking up because of the static he created. 

Then, they tentatively travel to your face, cupping your cheeks before he brushes his thumbs underneath your eyes. You jolt a bit when his cold hand brushes against your neck, swallowing harshly when you feel him trace a finger down your SCM. Your breathing hitches while he explores your skin, and your teeth dig harshly into your bottom lip in response. 

Then, you feel his touch pause, and Mr. Scarletella whispers against your neck, the pad of his thumb swiping against your lips, “...blood.” 

“Oh, uh…” You open your eyes and look at him, seeing the way he’s staring up at you while his face remains close to your jugular. Your hand goes up to your lips, and you wince when you feel the soreness. When you pull your fingers away from your mouth, you see the blood that clings to them. Geez, you didn’t think you had bit your lip that hard. 

You tell Mr. Scarletella, patting his head much like how he had been doing with you, “I’m okay. Don’t stop.”

He smiles widely and lights up at your words. Suddenly, he grabs your face and hastily presses his lips to yours. Your eyes grow at the sudden act, and a strangled noise leaves your throat. It wasn’t a bad noise, per se, you just hadn’t been expecting that from him. Typically, he waited until you permitted him to do that... He must have been too excited to hold back this time around.

You were speechless when he pulled away from you, noticing your blood that was now smeared across his lips. He licks it away, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips before he asks you, “...You happy?”

You can’t help but laugh at his question, reaching up to place your hand on his head while your giggles echo throughout the empty hallways, patting him softly. Mr. Scarletella’s smile falters while he focuses on the feeling of your touch, on burning the memory of your expression and the sweet sound of your laughter into his mind. It made him feel strange knowing he was the one making you react in such a way, but it was good.

He wanted to do it more. 

“Yes, I happy. You cute.” You reply, smiling warmly at him while he stares at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. 

“I like you.” He says, sounding almost breathless as his body hunches over more, his face nuzzling into the crook of your neck while his hands explore the rest of your body, stroking and touching and petting you. Mr. Scarletella didn’t want this moment to end. 

You chuckle as his breath fans against your skin, telling him gently as you feel his fingers work out any knots in your hair, “I know.” 

“I like you, I like you, I like you…” He murmurs against your flesh, “I love you.”

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[spnbabe67]

Just a Note

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of a little spicyness, mentions of injuries

Summary: When you start receiving little notes around the Bunker, you go on a hunt trying to find your secret admirer.

Word Count: 1600

Authors Note: This is my @spnfanficpond Secret Santa for @kazsrm67. This also fulfills squares for @jacklesversebingo and @anyfandomgoesbingo Happy Holidays everyone!

Jacklesverse Bingo Prompt: Secret Admirer

Any Fandom Goes Bingo Prompt: Head Wound

Divider by @saradika-graphics

Tag List: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @king-of-milf-lovers

It started out as sticky notes placed strategically in places across the Bunker where only you would find them: on the mirror in your room, or on the stack of books you kept sequestered to a table in the corner of the library room. Various colors of square paper with little compliments, albeit a little awkward, scrawled across them. The first time you’d found one, a blue square tucked into the cubby where you kept your bug-out bag in the armory, you’d been caught off guard. The neon, stark against the muted brown and black and grey tones, had caught your eye as you went about replacing and checking the supplies you kept within your duffel. You plucked the paper from where it was nestled amongst the various weapons and supplies kept within, sitting in wait for the next hunt. As you gingerly pulled the sticky note from your bag, you noticed the scrawling words written across it in black ink. 

You look sharper than these knives.

Your head cocked to the side, face contorted into a mixture of confusion and amusement. Was that meant to be a compliment? More importantly, who was it from? Aside from yourself, Sam and Dean both took up permanent residence in the Men of Letters Bunker. Charlie, your childhood best friend and the person who introduced you to the Winchester brothers and the hunting world in general also lived here 90% of the time. It could be here playing one of her many pranks. A few other hunters used this place as refuge between hunts or came here for the endless trove of supernatural knowledge archived within its walls. You’d even convinced Dean, despite his best efforts to ignore your pleas, to host a couple seminars and training sessions for newer (and seasoned) hunters using the knowledge you and Sam spent hours upon hours organizing. 

“When I was first introduced to this world, I wish I’d had this kind of training available to me,” You’d reasoned with him one day in the kitchen. “I’d have a lot less scars and a lot less near death experiences if I had.”

The eldest Winchester, whom you’d grown close to in the months you’d worked with him, Sam, and the cabal of supernatural beings that they considered friends or at the very least occasional allies, leaned against the island with a mug of freshly brewed coffee in hand.

“I’m not sayin’ it’s a bad thing, Sweetheart.” Dean placated you, setting his mug on the counter. “All I’m sayin’ is that there’s more to it than just puttin’ flyers on the street. How would we even advertise somethin’ like this?” 

You shrugged. “You’re smart, you’ll figure it out.”

And figure it out he had. With the help of Charlie and Sam, the four of you managed to create a strategically worded ad, spreading it to known hunters who would even be remotely interested. It had spread like wildfire from there. So it was very possible one of the hunters passing through had put it in your bag. Even that explanation didn’t quite fit, but at the time it was a one-off, a fluke to never happen again.

That was until another one showed up. You’d taken a blow to the head when a rogue shifter slammed you back into a wall, knocking you unconscious. Blearily you opened your eyes to the dim light of the Bunker’s infirmary. A dull ache throbbed at the back of your head as you looked around. The room was kept mostly dark save for a lamp in the corner. I must have a concussion, you thought as you sat up, the crisp white sheets crumpled on your lap. You had reached over to check the clock on the table next to the bed when you saw yet another Post-it stuck to the top of it. The paper was red this time, but the writing held the same characteristics of the first one. 

You take my breath away.

Your eyes must have read the sentence a hundred times over, wracking your brain trying to figure out who in the Hell is leaving you these messages. Some rational part of you whispered there were really only two options. Sam or Dean. You knew it wasn’t Sam; your relationship with the younger brother was strictly familial. You’d never seen him as anything other than a younger brother, despite his protests that he was only 6 months younger than you. 

Dean on the other hand was a different story. Sometimes he acted like you were another younger sibling for him to be responsible for, other times the tension between the two of you could be cut with the dullest knife. Lingering eyes as the three of you changed between or after hunts, his fingers trailing over your hair and tucking it behind your ear when he assumed you were dead asleep. You’d be lying if he was the only one giving mixed signals. It made sense. To anyone who didn’t know him, Dean was a casanova, a womanizer who took what he wanted and offered nothing. And sure, maybe he was that way in his early 20’s, but life and the work of a hunter had taken a toll on him. So while you and Sam partook in one night stands, it was Dean who usually ended the night alone. 

You found the notes enduring, actually, and very in character for him. So from that moment in the infirmary, you compiled the notes and the occasional small gifts left for you. Once you were sure it was, in fact, Dean showering you in corny one liners and sweet nothings, you hatched a plan. You figured there were a couple ways to go about it. One: confront him head on, which he very well might deny all together in embarrassment. Two: let the notes continue to pile up, hopefully bottlenecking Dean into coming to you personally. Or three: beat him at his own game. Out of all of them, the third sounded the most fun.

Like a game of tag, the next time it was your turn to go on the supply run, you stopped by a Dollar Tree and grabbed a stack of Post-its. Unfortunately, they only had the plain and frankly ugly yellow ones, but they’d do. If you played your cards right, you shouldn’t need too many of them anyway. You snuck around the Bunker for nearly a week, leaving the Post-its in inconspicuous places as Dean had. The first one you’d left next to the decanter of water he kept by his bedside, calling him a tall drink of water. The next one was slid under his disassembled 1911 when he went to take a break. You giggled to yourself as you positioned it, reading the line you’d printed on it. Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?

On the 7th day with no response from Dean, no change in behavior when the three (or four when Charlie came for dinner) of you went on hunts or stuck around the Bunker, you had started to lose hope. Maybe it was someone else and you’d read into the situation completely wrong. But something in your gut told you that you were barking up the right tree. Give it one last try, it seemed to say. So one last try it was. You’d know once and for all if it was Dean. You wrote the message that started it all on a sticky note, making sure Dean was in the kitchen before slinking off to the armory. All of you kept at least one bingo bag here, the main thing was finding which one was Dean’s. He kept his main pack in his room or in Baby’s trunk so it took some rooting around until you found the right one. 

Just as you unzipped the bag, poised to place the sticky note against the blade of one of Dean’s hunting knives, a voice called out your name from behind you. You froze, your lips pressing into a thin line as a small cheeky smile started to form. You stood up, turning around to see Dean leaning against the door jam.

“Whatcha doin’ Sweetheart?” He asked innocently, but his tone and the smug look on his face was anything but.

“Nothin’.” You mumbled, suddenly a little sheepish. The plan didn’t involve you getting caught red handed. “You weren't supposed to catch me.”

“Figured as much.” He joked, crossing the space between you, plucking the Post-it from your hand, his fingers brushing against your own in a way that made your heart flutter a little faster than it already was. 

“Asshole.” You huffed equally as teasing,watching him look at the sticky note, reading your chicken scratch. 

You were both silent as Dean’s eyes met yours, his cheeks tinged a bit pink. You were sure your own were as well as you suddenly felt the urge to hide from his observing gaze. 

“So,” Dean breathed. “What now?”

Ever the gentleman, you thought. Giving you the option to back out, to deny this thing between you both even though he’d quite literally caught you leaving a flirtatious note in his bag. You let your hand drift forward, hesitantly finding his own. You intertwined your fingers, feeling his callouses brush your own as you gave his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“I think now, you need to start sayin’ those things to me in person, not just on paper.” You gave him a small smile.

“Sounds like a plan, Sweetheart.”

[manikas-whims]

More evidence on the situation with @dollgxtz stealing zombie’s works

i’m omitting the usernames of the people who have provided the evidence, as per their request for anonymity.

Someone who's been in both Resident Evil as well as Love and Deepspace fandom, has revealed that @dollgxtz used to be in the RE fandom and that her fic mirrors entirely a Yandere Leon Kennedy fic as well a fic titled “something permanent”

Secondly, here's just one snippet of @dollgxtz stealing word for word from zombie Leon K. story for their popular Sylus Fanfic

there's minor tweaking but otherwise, it's copy-pasting, and you can see it for yourself.

Thirdly, on top plagiarism, @dollgxtz works have also shown the usage of AI in their writing (upto 66% AI generated)

Lastly, as of now, their other “Sylus x Reader” and “Zayne x Reader” one-shot fics that @dollgxtz copied from zombie HAVE BEEN DELETED.

..which clearly shows that @dollgxtz is scurrying around, clearing evidence of their stealing, instead of coming clean and apologizing 😒

After what happened to A*y*mi, I don't think Love and Deepspace fandom should further encourage and support such thieves who'd rather steal and use AI instead of actually working hard to create a beautiful plot.

And this is merely evidence based on how much they've stolen from one person’s works (who clearly talked about it in a post from back in November, showing that dollgxtz has continued to copy from their works for a long time.)

For all we know, they might've stolen from other writers’ fics as well.

[written-and-readen]

Don't do this request if you haven't done the 3.2 quest but I'm feeling like making the anaxa fandom cry so here we go. Imagine his significant other (us) who was his wife he loved dearly. Phainon breaks the news to us that he ripped out his own coreflame and wanted him to deliver us a letter Anaxa wrote. Of course we cry from reading the letter but at that time we were best friends with Aglaea so she comforts us about it.

a/n: I'm so sorry this has been sitting in my inbox since the start of 3.2

Anaxa is gone. You haven't quite processed it yet. Everything just feels...numb. His absence is like a wound you have yet to feel the phantom pain of.

He told you this would happen. It was inevitable that he would have to say goodbye. Now here you are, sitting alone in the Okheman residence Aglaea provided you with. Silence consumes you as you try to cope. How long have you been here?

A knock comes at the door. You almost don't register it, something new to break through the quiet of your empty home. The knock comes again. So it wasn't a trick of your imagination after all. You slowly get up, opening the door to see Phainon, his blue eyes more downcast than usual.

"Hello, Phainon." It's hard to muster even an ounce of happiness right now, although you suppose it's nice to see a familiar face.

"Hi..." He trails off when he sees you. You don't even want to imagine how terrible you must look right now. Grief is not becoming of anyone. He doesn't comment on it, merely holding out a letter to you. "Professor Anaxa wanted me to give this to you."

"Thank you." Your heart feels like it's been restarted at the mention of his name. Your hands take the letter like you're handling the most precious treasure in the world, nodding to Phainon before closing the door again.

Back leaned against the door, you unfold the letter to see Anaxa's familiar scrawl.

My dear,

By the time this reaches you, I will have already surrendered the Coreflame of Reason. I know we already realized that we must part, but I will not let the Flame Chase Journey or the Titans keep me from saying one last time that I love you. Let this be a permanent reminder of that, even when this world is remade. I will find you there and we will meet again.

- Anaxagoras

Your fingers ghost over his words as you hold the paper close to your chest. The last gift Anaxa ever gave you.

Three quick raps on the door. Aglaea waits patiently for you to answer, but nothing comes. As much as she did not agree with that blasphemous scholar, one thing they had in common was how much they cherished you. She couldn't help but worry what would happen when Anaxa was gone.

She pushes the door open slightly to find you sitting in the middle of the floor, letter in hand and tears streaming down your face. She rushes over and takes you into her arms. Her hands gently brush over your hair as she lets you fall apart.

"Shhh, I know," She comforts when you try to get out a few broken words, so you simply let yourself be held by the Goldweaver as you grieve.

[kompot505]

and here are the kompot!af2 designs! morward, pasless and voixer aren't really my favorites so they didn't get a spot. and verfection is not in af2 o_o

if you guys want me to draw any stuff of these guys please lmk?! or ship art... i ship everyone here (Excluding Cyalm!!) with everyone so ask and you shall receive. i want to interact with the fandom even if its small :-)

ramblings, artist commentary and design notes below! (it's a LOT)

holy crap it's finally done. i've been chewing on this for at least a month. not because i had no ideas for the designs (most of the time) but because drawing this many characters is so tedious...

it was even worse than the kompot!regretevator references i did, which had 17 characters! LORD

general design notes:

all of the points' bodies are completely made of glass, through and through. it's "anomalous" glass because they move like people obviously but you get it

all of the points must have their gradients be very prominent. in fact, when stylizing, you can just omit all of the details and color them in only as their gradient lol

all of the points must have their symbol on their clothing, except solgon, naen and yawgate, which have cyalm's symbol instead!

they are wearing pants trust me its just.. gradient pants.. h

SPEAKING OF THE LEGS THEY LOOK LIKE THAT DUE TO LAZINESS. no need to tell me .

per character notes/inspirations (WALL OF TEXT apolocheese):

👽 kompot: who is this guy? you might recognize his hands from the new af2 icon! he's my design for ss2, just an oc :-) if anyone wants to know about him feel free to inquire! (inb4 "isn't he you?" - he's more of a mascot than a sona!)

☁️ cyalm: supposed to look angelic, classy and have a holier-than-thou vibe. clothes are always perfectly pristine. the cloud patterns are animated! the wings are optional, the halo is not!

🛠️ shallare: engineer/mechanic thingy. always carries tools and spare nuts n bolts around. their glasses are safety goggles! also they have soot or oil stains on them most of the time.

🎶 signol: performer, bartender, classy lil thing! their sleeves are rolled up for the sake of playing instruments more easily. long ass coattails and for what... the pizazz...? tch

❄️ compale: cozy winter dweller. kinda russian-esque... i'm balkan so forgive me for that. the inside of their coat is super fluffy! can have optional mittens!

🪓 ploque: woodworker/woodcarver type design. has two bandannas for no reason, but uses the one on their neck while working to deal with the sawdust. only has one protective glove on their non-dominant hand!

⭐ anshine: their outfit is meant to match the angels'/residents of maytown's clothes. wings optional, halo mandatory! their watch is also heavily preferred. their 'sleeves' are a separate, singular piece of fabric draped around their arms

🌒 ulipse: supposed to look like they live in the desert! very covered up to protect from the sun. their shawl/scarf has dangling moon symbol charms all around!

🐉 arrolin: sorry i just love qipao so much.. LNY chinese festivities based! the shawl/scarf draped around their elbows has floaty properties and always remains in place. the dragon patterns are animated!

🤖 mino: robot!! their torso is completely exposed, the only clothing they have is the shrug and the stirrups! the antenna extends, mostly for comedic effect lol

🌔 ixol: probably the one i took the most liberties with? tropical vacation mixed with weirdo freak vibes! their cape is animated like a flame at the bottom! the cracks on their arm are permanent and display a glitched screen. the flame around their head doesn't hurt.

❌ stratosfear: their cape is similar to ixol's, but it tears instead of "burning". their stinger is part of their body despite being disconnected - it also wags LOL. supposed to have both a hero and villain vibe? ended up a cowthey??

⁉️ solgon, 💲 naen, 🔒 yawgate: cyalm's lackeys! they all have the same uniform styled differently. solgon and naen swap their bandannas every few days for fun! yawgate's is based on a conductor's and stewardess' uniform!

thank you for coming to my yapfest..! i hope it was fun to read. i want to talk about af2!!

[johanna-swann]

Okay, so this is going to sound very conspiracy theory like, but here's what I think happened (in regards to Bobby's death, Tommy being back, Eddie still not being back and a general outlook on season 9).

I think Tim Minear came back to the show, they moved to a different network, they churned out half a season somehow between multiple strikes and other adjustments. They put a lot of money into the opening disaster which worked and got fans excited. They peppered in soap opera style plot points throughout the rest of the season (wedding episode, Buck coming out, Doppelgänger plot, reintroducing Bobby's background, new Henren kid) because the fans care about the characters and what happens to them. There was barely any procedural in this drama throughout most of season 7, it was 90% the characters' personal drama they showed.

But people were willing to overlook this because at least all the characters had stuff going on and there were extenuating circumstances. Then season 8a rolled around. Once again they went big on the opening disaster, after that though?

Most of the plots introduced in season 7 were dropped immediately. Bobby was suicidal at the end of last season, he's fine in 8x01 though. The conflict between Eddie and Christopher is mentioned here and there, but we don't see Eddie working on his issues. Ortiz is defeated and written out of the show in the very first episode after the opening disaster. Athena gets her thriller plot in the opening disaster and then gets sidelined for the next idk how many episodes. Maddie and Chimney are barely main characters at all, they mostly just exist in the background. The only relevant plot they kept going was Bucktommy, but even they only got insubstantial comedy side plots until they were suddenly broken up. The mid-season finale was a huge let-down and there was barely anything interesting going on in the show anymore.

Here's where the conspiracy part begins: Without the distraction of at least one engaging plot to follow and the lack of new episodes coming in viewers started to notice that the show was treading water. Then the feedback started to trickle in and it wasn't good. I think that's when they decided that they really had to do something that would shake things up and change things permanently. They had already filmed the serial killer two parter though, so they only made small changes / additions (Buddie goodbye scene) and started to really write stories with a lasting impact again post 8x10.

Call me crazy, but I think they really didn't plan to bring Tommy back, not so soon and not as Buck's love interest. That's not what the interviews sounded like back in November. But then, only a few episodes after the break-up suddenly Tommy was back, they showed how both Buck and Tommy still have feelings for each other and literally made Buck say the words "I am not in love with Eddie". There will be no more "will they won't they" "queerbaity-ish" plots between Buck and Eddie, that conversation is over. They gave a nod to the fandom by bringing it up like "yeah, we see you" and at the same time let them down gently by saying "we're going another direction though". That is a very permanent decision for a show that doesn't like change. The way they keep bringing Tommy back, even when he's only mentioned, could very well also mean he's here to stay which means giving Buck, the resident perpetual bachelor, a permanent love interest. Another huge change.

The second thing they did was remove Eddie from the equation. Not completely, not permanently, not yet. But let me just throw the idea out there: What if this was a test run? A "let's not get rid of him just yet, let's see if we can manage without him first". So they sent Eddie to Texas. Finally did something with that plot, even if it was severely disappointing and made no sense. (The problem was that Eddie had issues he didn't work on and in the process hurt his kid and broke his trust. Then we see them in Texas, but suddenly Eddie's mom is the actual problem while Christopher is super chill around Eddie? When the last time we saw them speak to each other Christopher barely wanted to talk to Eddie? Make it make sense.) Anyway, Eddie still got his screen time, but they kept him firmly separated from the 118. Buck was on the phone with Eddie a few times, mostly so Eddie would have a scene partner who he could talk to openly, nobody else even mentioned Eddie. Bobby accidentally called Ravi "Eddie" twice, but I think that was more about Ravi feeling like maybe he doesn't belong rather than Bobby actually missing Eddie. So yeah, maybe this was a trial run to see if they can do season 9 without Eddie and so far I have to admit, I don't really miss him? I'm sure they could've worked him into the recent two parter, but they definitely didn't need him.

Third they brought back Ravi and this time everyone is happy to have him there. Buck tries to actually be his friend this time around, gets to be a mentor figure for him and Ravi has his small "maybe I'm not cut out for this" to "I'll commit domestic terrorism if that's what it takes" arc. 8x14 really cemented that Ravi is a part of the team and he chooses to be a part of this team. He's a pall bearer in Bobby's funeral for god's sake, he belongs to the 118 - a 118 that needs new members because they're losing at least one this season. So. Ravi main season 9?

Big change number 4 - Bobby's death. A main character death is a big, big stunt. If they decide they don't like Tommy for Buck after all, they can change their minds later. If they decide they want Eddie back, they can leave options open to bring him back later. Bobby's death? They can't walk that one back. Bobby and Buck are probably the most central characters for the firefam (Bobby as the patriarch and Buck as the link between all sides of the family) and Peter Krause is no small name on tv. This is not a move they would've pulled if they weren't committed to making drastic changes to a show that previously had come to a bit of a standstill. They want to change the very foundation of this show. If they're willing to kill off one of the main characters among main characters, what else are they willing to change? Some of the above? All of it?

The final piece is still very vague, but they also said they wanted to keep Athena connected to the 118 in a tangible way. People have suggested that May might become a firefighter, but tbh I don't think it would fit. She already was a part of the first responder network for an entire year and then decided to go to uni anyway. Athena went to uni and then decided to become a cop instead, May did it the other way around. Why would they change that again now? I think it's more likely that a) Harry graduates and applies to the academy or that b) they'll make May and Ravi a couple. The latter could also make sense if they're trying to keep the same amount and kinds of couples around. If Buck and Tommy really get back together and become a permanent fixture in the 911 universe, May and Ravi could be the new "will they won't they" couple who keep running into stupid hurdles because they're not sure what they're doing while Bucktommy slowly settle down.

Conclusion: Big changes are on the horizon for 911, they already vaguely teased that there may be cast changes other than just Peter Krause being gone for season 9. I think they decided that some major changes needed to happen during the winter hiatus and then talked about a few possibilities, tried some of them and are now ready to finalise those decisions. Maybe one of the reasons that filming is coming along so slowly is that they weren't sure yet which route to go, had to re-shoot scenes or filmed several versions to choose from. (There are soooo many stills that never showed up in an episode.) Idk, but what I do know is that there are a lot of possibilities for permanent change to choose from and they seem committed to actually go through with those changes this time.

[3liza]

what tumblr is *actually* really particularly good at as a group rather than as individual famous posters (such as dril on twitter), and this is something we share with 4chan, is originating and then popularizing particular jokes and meme phrases. we are good at coining things. "coining a phrase" means to say something with a particular flourish or carefully-chosen compositional attention in an effort to make the phrase "stick" in some way. for example, "stop trying to make 'fetch' happen" (which became a meme in of itself) is a response to a person attempting to coin a phrase--in this case, referring to things as "fetch" (adjective)--in a way that is not working. i think that tumblr, as a group, is very good at making fetch happen.

"blorbo" is a perfect example of a word that was made up on tumblr and has now become widespread over multiple social networks and is in (limited) use in irl verbal conversation. whatever our personal individual feelings on it (and a lot of us are fed up with it/find the term annoying because it got REALLY saturated here) it's so good that it will likely (i think! this is my prediction) become a permanent resident in american slang as long as it is useful, and this is because there was an empty space where that term was needed: a term for a person from a work of fiction that the speaker (the person who says "blorbo from my shows" in the hypothetical scenario invoked by the post) is particularly interested in, but whom the listener (the hypothetical "you") has no familiarity with.

fandom as an activity is extremely old at this point (no not dante's inferno fuck off) so it's likely we have had terms like this before that either weren't successfully coined, deprecated out of common usage, or which i personally am not familiar with. but when the blorbo post was made, there was an empty space where that term WAS needed in many conversations that were being had. oh yeah, blorbo from your shows. all my friends have blorbos from their shows. i do not have a pre-existing term for this, i would have just referred to that concept as "characters from shows i havent watched, which my friends talk about all the time". it is convenient to have the term "blorbo" for this, and it was particularly canny as a choice of phonemes because it references how fucking stupid all the Star Wars Expanded Universe names are (and always have been, speaking as an old school SWEU fan [NOT ANYMORE]). ponda baba? sebulba? max rebo. the intergalactic jizz wailers. sy snootles. fuck off

coining a phrase successfully actually uses marketing principles, or vice versa really, to launch a word that "sticks". we can use "fetch" as the counter-example: there was no demand for "fetch" in that market (the setting of the film).

this is a sort of cousin to the now-deprecated phrase "it's all greek to me", which meant "i don't understand this, it is as unfamiliar to me as someone speaking greek, a language i dont understand [and which is considered by my culture to be difficult to understand and/or archaic]". but instead of invoking an actual language to exemplify

EDIT 6:19AM PST: i apparently just hit "Post" before finishing the post. i think i had more thoughts about "its all greek to me" but i dont know what they were and its not important

[joyswonderland1108]

Just realized I called some topics in this fandom "political" yesterday and honestly? I stand by it. Maybe I’m delulu, or maybe some just can’t handle nuance unless it’s wrapped in pastel gifs and emojis. God forbid someone says something intelligent without getting flagged like they committed a crime against the PR team. With that being said, i hope people could state their opinion without fear, as long as it stays respectful whithin the limits of what should be respectable.

But anyway— flips hair and clears throat —JIKOOK. The Jeon mansion: permanent residence or romantic Airbnb? We don’t know. I hope it’s permanent—so many plot devices and excuses on the book just waiting to justify it. But even if it’s temporary, considering past.. living situation, this is a luxury upgrade with 10x the emotional intimacy. Those of you who know, know.

And shoutout to the Akgaes who accidentally saw what their delusion filters failed to block—must’ve been a rough day in denial land 😭 Not sure what you expected when those two enlisted together like it was a honeymoon package, but hey, thanks for the free engagement. Your rage only makes the Jikook lore stronger.

Spoiler alert: Jikook couldn’t care less about your performative meltdowns. So pack it up, babes—go cry into your solo stan shrine. 🥂 Toodaloo~ 💅

[turtle--soup]

Okay.

I have not seen ROTTMNT yet, but I've picked up some stuff from just floating around the fandom. Something I've learned, which is discussed in this post here, is that Rise Leo is generally considered - and considers himself the 'Face Man' of the team. (GIFs below are swiped from the linked post by @risestarkiss - I couldn't find them in tumblr's gif search function...)

Anyway. This is interesting to me because I am, for my sins, also a fan of The A-Team.

(I promise this is going somewhere! If you want to find out where I'm going with this, I'll put the rest of the post under a cut because it got a little long...)

For those of you unfamiliar with The A-Team, it's a (very silly) 80s TV series about a group of Vietnam War veterans who are on the run from the government after being convicted of a crime they didn't commit. The four of them spend their lives in hiding, making a living by using their combat skills to help people in need.

Here they are:

Left: Colonel John 'Hannibal' Smith, leader of the team, brains of the outfit and most likely to have become an evil mastermind in an alternate timeline.

Right: Sergeant B.A. Baracus. Nicknamed 'Bad Attitude' due to his lack of patience for bullshit, B.A. is the resident tough guy but also an absolute teddy bear of a man, and is always ready to help people, especially children and the elderly.

Left: Captain H.M. 'Howling Mad' Murdock is the team's pilot and can fly just about anything. As his nickname suggests, he's considered a bit eccentric and is a silly kind of guy. (He's also a permanent resident of a psychiatric hospital but let's not get into that right now.)

Right: Lieutenant Templeton Peck. His role in the team is to provide them with whatever they need, whether that be vehicles, weapons, tools or access to places. He usually achieves this using his charm and wit, gaining him the nickname 'Face Man.'

Okay, so bearing these descriptions in mind, look at Leo's dialogue in this GIF:

I'm assuming that Donnie is the brainy guy, Raph is the smashy guy, and Mikey is the 'eats peanut butter with his fingers guy'. And Leo is the Face Man. That's his role.

But these descriptions fit the members of The A-Team too. Hannibal is the brainy guy, B.A. is the smashy guy, Murdock is the guy who absolutely eats peanut butter with his fingers (while maintaining unbroken eye contact throughout). And then there's Face.

How is this in any way relevant?

Well.

It just so happens that someone else is a fan of The A-Team...

Of course the Mirage turtles watched The A-Team! It was a popular show in the mid-80s, and you have to admit - they do have a lot in common, being four guys fighting injustice from the shadows and all... The A-Team even have a friend on the outside who helps them out - Amy Allen.

She's a reporter. Like someone else we know...

But which of the Mirage turtles in the image above is suggesting they should watch The A-Team?

According to this bio card from 1990 that coincides with the 1987 series...

... it might be Leo!

Was this intentional on the part of the Rise writers? I don't know!

Is it relevant? Probably not!

Does this tentative link between these two silly 80s series make me ridiculously happy? Yes!

Was this entire post just leading up to this? Yeah... sorry...

I like to think that the link is intentional. I've heard that Rise makes reference to other iterations of TMNT, as they all do. I would just personally love it if someone on the team wanted to draw parallels between these two series on purpose!

Anyway.

I just noticed that and really needed to get it off my chest! Thank you to everyone who stuck with this longer-than-intended post right to the end! 💙💜❤🧡

[rilestothemiles]

a semi lengthy post on the relationship between the drakes:

disclaimer: I am too lazy to find more panels than what I already have so u kinda have to just trust me when I say stuff which works a lot better over on twitter where people actually Know Me but. I will cite the panels I have used and highly encourage u all to read robin 1993.

I know this is an unpopular opinion but I think the dc fandom, the part that actually reads the comics, does way too big of a pendulum swing on fanon’s crazy abusive drakes thing. I do think the drakes neglect tim and neglect is a form of abuse. it’s not inaccurate to call the drakes abusive. I do however think calling them awful parents is a stretch.

the fanon portrayal IS inacurate, I feel mainly due to the fact that they leave out how much love they all had for each other. and you can see that shown over and over again. especially the way jack speaks to tim right after janet's death and with jack’s reaction tim being stranded in no man’s land.

(batman (1937) #480)

(robin (1993) #72)

is his reaction in no man’s land a dramatic one? yes. is it unwarranted? not at all. for all jack knows, tim could die. and his response to that is anger. something any parent fearful of losing their kid would exhibit. he clearly cares deeply about tim’s wellbeing, in fact, he cares so much he makes sure the news of tim being trapped in no man’s land is shown on every station.

(robin (1993) #72)

which, while embarrassing for tim, ends up being pretty much the sole power no man’s land comes to an end. go dad power!

(robin (1993) #73)

in addition to that, tim clearly mourns his parents. not that you cant mourn an abuser, but that’s not what this is.

(detective comics (1937) #621)

(identity crisis (2004) #6)

not to mention, of course, that tim did have mrs. mac when the drakes were on trips. he was not left home alone edit: I have since been corrected by the lovely spoilerjpeg that mrs. mac was not hired until after jack drake woke up from his coma. it is assumed that tim was at boarding school during these years, given the drakes did not have a place of permanent residence before.

in contagion, when tim is literally on his death bed he hallucinates his family, alive, happy, together, and aware of his identity. he misses his mom. he very clearly loves her, and he sees himself running up into her arms.

(the batman chronicles (1995) #4 - begger's banquet)

tim's identity remains a point of tension, as tim desperately wants to reveal it to his dad, but cant, as it would compromise the identities of the rest of the bat family. you see this illustrated as early as batman 480 which I reference in this post multiple times, and the issue of robin in their relationships remains up until the death of jack drake. it hits a peak in issue 124 of robin 93, where jack discovers tim's identity and is well, upset. saddened. afraid. his first thought isn't anger, it's immense grief. he's clearly afraid of losing tim, he mourns the him. and this panel is later paralleled with tim's reaction to jack's death. jack doesn't even blame tim, he instantly goes to bruce, filled with grief and anger. he doesnt know what to do. and how do you threaten bruce wayne or batman? let alone both? bruce has endangered his child for years now, without telling him, and his eyes, forbidden his kid from telling him, this reaction, in my opinion, makes complete sense, and I honestly commend jack drake for it. it takes balls to stand up to bruce/batman and he's doing it for his kid.

(robin (1993) #124)

all this being said, I think the drakes never really wanted to be parents. it’s the expectation of the times. theyre academics, travelers, their lifestyle isnt suited to that of a child’s.

(robin (1993) #11)

(batman (1937) #480) - the note reads: "Dear Dad, I wish could go back and start over again! When I was a kid, I used to dream - to pray - that you and mom would stop travelling, forget business and just settle down. We'd be together, the way a family ought to be... now I have my wish. I'm going to with you all the time. And it's tearing me apart."

tim addresses that letter to "the father I never knew." tim and jack got the chance to rectify that, but tim and janet’s relationship never really had the time to recover from it and I think tim can have an idealized version of her in his head as a result of it.

jack really fails tim in a number of ways. he says he’ll make an effort after janet dies and you expect for that to be a catalyst for him, especially because he actively says it will be, and it isnt.

he does this a number of times. he says he’ll make an effort and then he doesnt. or he ends up making a huge amount of effort all at once and then stops, the cycle repeats. tim learns to expect it.

(batman (1937) #480)

(robin (1993) #15)

later, he goes way too hard on the strict dad thing, which I get, because tim isnt an easy kid by any means, but he forgets that tim has never Had that structure, and he needs to actually build the relationship’s foundation first if he wants to decide to be a parent now, and he never does.

(batman (1937) #480) - the note reads: "Funny. how once you never seemed to care - at least, you never showed me that you did. And now you want to run my life. Do you really think we can start over..?"

jack also often doesnt even give tim the chance to explain himself, even in situations that really weren't his fault.

(robin (1993) #44-45)

it never really ends up being just tim and his dad, because the second jack gets out his coma he brings in dana, and shes honestly what keeps the relationship from not worsening. dana is often the mediator, telling dana to ease up on tim. it’s dana who influences jack to put in an effort. shes the catalyst, not janet’s death.

(robin (1993) #47)

warning for the upcoming pages - mentions of underage (consensual) sex as an unhealthy coping mechanism after an implied sexual assault (from someone outside the relationship)

(robin (1993) #45)

even with her mediating, things are still rough between jack and tim. jack very clearly has no idea how to parent tim, never really having had to before. tim has always been extremely self sufficient, mainly due to his parents' neglect.

(baatman (1937) #480) - the note reads: "I've no idea who you think I am, Dad - but I'm not that boy. I had to fend for myself for a long time. I changed, Dad. I have a lot of... secrets."

jack really never had to discipline tim, mainly as a result of often not being around to do it. which means he is not always the best parent, and not what tim needs. he also misinterprets a lot of tim's behaviours that he has as a result of being robin as a sign of disrespect.

(robin (1993) #45)

dana's presence is also another point of conflict as well, another way tim’s belief that jack will always choose something/someone else over him is reinforced. and he’s not wrong to think it. jack’s neglect of tim continues well after janet dies.

(robin (1993) #12)

I think tim is right to be pissed when jack all of a sudden decides to step up. I think jack’s reactions to tim’s actions make sense, but I cant defend them when he hasnt created the foundation needed to execute that. plus, he switches often between being too strict, with him watching tim too closely and judging him for it, and being neglectful.

I see a lot of people say “tim doesnt make an effort either!” well. Yeah. hes never had to before. and it’s not On Him to make that connection at all. hes the kid. and honestly the effort jack makes, especially in the start, feels like a way to display his masculinity to dana. or just... strange. and maybe not what tim needs, instead being what jack tries to project onto him.

(total justice (1996) #1)

I think sometimes people end up projecting on tim and/or projecting their parents on the drakes and they dont want to acknowledge their own parents’ mistakes, so they defend the drakes'.

the drakes arent bad parents, but they arent good ones either. they're human, at the end of the day. theres a lot of love between the drakes, and a lot of hurt too. it’s very hard to find nuanced conversations about that. I think they have a very realistic relationship, especially given the times.

[boykingscourt]

Why do so many people in the fandom hate sam? 😭😭

it's difficult to give a single definitive answer. it's sort of like asking yourself "what's the meaning of life?" or something. you can come up with a few solid theories, but in the end we may just never know! however, I will attempt to give you an answer that will satisfy you based on my opinion and those I've seen from other residents of samblr

spn's intended alpha male audience doesn't vibe well with sam's (perceived) exclusive feminine traits: he's "whiny," he inquires how his loved ones are doing or feeling on occasion, he shows kindness and empathy and often questions the morality of the job, he's the salad-eating, book-reading brother. I could go to reddit, which seems to be this part of the audience's preferred internet hangout, and gather more data, but I've seen enough sam hate to last 100 lifetimes at this point

spn's fandom, a large chunk of them you-know-what shippers, give sam the woman getting in the way of the yaoi ship treatment. the spn in their minds is not the one you or I see but one that is solely about The Ship, which exists solely to reinforce The Ship, where The Ship is the reason they began watching spn in the first place (likely having seen The Ship all over tumblr in this case!), so catching glimpses of the real spn, where dean is completely obsessed with sam (romantic, platonic, psychotically-irrationally-erotically codependent <- the exact flavor is up to you and whatever floats your boat) fills them with so much cognitive dissonance that they have no choice but to take that ire out on sam and usually manifests itself in some hate him but also pretend he's not there hybrid

spn's egregious dean bias, which becomes fixed around s8 imo, means the narrative and every potential moral dilemma has to be filtered through dean's perspective first. unfortunately dean's perspective is a terrible one to adopt without further thought, and therefore sam's fighting for a shred of autonomy (for instance) will feel like a personal attack on the audience because it feels like a personal attack to dean. and even before the dean bias became permanent, spn had this habit of beating sam repeatedly with bricks for his "mistakes," while other characters, namely dean, were let off the hook rather easily, and if you're a gullible viewer you can very quickly be led astray. think about how sam's actions and motivations in s4 are still talked about vs. dean's letting sam suffer in the panic room to "die human" if necessary, how in s5 sam gets 100% of the blame for the apocalypse because that is what every person (including sam waaaaahhh) is saying over and over and over again vs. something like dean killing amy, sam in s8 attempting to move on from dean's death in a healthy manner (like they had agreed) vs. dean changing his mind and not liking it

anyway I feel like this is getting away from me a bit, especially because there are like 500 other examples I could use for no. 3, but I hope this helps! if you were more just screaming into the void and didn't want a long answer I apologize but just know it could've been much longer!

[onioety]

Hello, I desperately need to ramble about Squid Game and specifically about Sangihun and Inhun (obviously about Sangwoo, Gihun and In-Ho individually as well). Yes, it's my time to shine, I just can't keep my mouth shut after taking a look at the infinite ship and characterization wars going on online. Thankfully Tumblr is this fandom cottage safe space for me, so I'll speak my truth freely to anyone that feels like reading (or maybe just to myself, one has the right to yap and be self-indulgent).

First of all, why are we discussing over and over again about Sangihun's and Inhun's potential as if they were fixed dichotomies? Gihun's relationship with both Sangwoo and In-Ho is both complex and deeply interesting and both are very valuable to me. None of them are exempt from toxicity, let me point that out, but that's part of their complexity! Both portray situations and dichotomies between the characters, their feelings and their ideologies.

Sangihun portrays the relationship of two childhood friends, growing up together, separated by time, circusntances and personal choices. Gihun looks up to Sangwoo because, in his eyes, he's everything he could never had but admire: smart, a scholar, idolized by his mother, highly competent, always aware of his actions. Turns out Sangwoo, obviously, lacks some precious qualities Gihun has; he's kind, altruistic and naturally understands and connects with those around him, regardless of his happy-go-lucky demeanor and his lack of conscience over his actions. Sangwoo recognizes and admires this, but, at the same time, perceives them as weakness that may go, even, against Gihun's own integrity and chances of survival. His affection towards Gihun is genuine, yet he has this latent feeling of superiority, believing he can look down on his friend, at the same time he recognizes himself as a failure.

I really like how Sangwoo is written and believe it makes no sense trying to give him a "good" or "evil" tag, as no character in Squid Game falls purely under one of these two categories, just like all of us. That's why they're so realistic and well-written. When Gihun loses him, he just can't be the person he used to be anymore. Still, he is. Contrast between radical change and permanence in his character is beautiful.

Now speaking of Inhun and In-Ho, I adore them. In-Ho wants Gihun to became exactly what he is, yet the beauty resides in him wanting, after all, to became someone like him, to regain some hope in kidness. He has become this Hobbesian mess, but I'm sure he envies whatever seems intrinsic to Gihun, that allows him to remain altruistic; 'pure'. Ruining Gihun himself means proving life is as senseless and terrific as it proved itself to be when he first played the game, as he has witnessed during years. But in his actions he wishes to became what he never could.

And Gihun finds in him, as Yong-Il, someone that believes in him, a support, a needed hand in a moment of doubt,a gift of vulnerability, that isn't completely faked. In-Ho, Young-Il and the Frontman aren't 'personas' or 'fake identities', they're all real parts of a same individual. This character is just so interesting and fascinating to me. I NEED TO KNOW MORE

Anyways, Sangihun and Inhun canon. And both Sangwoo and In-Ho are very interesting, not completely evil, absolutely not completely good. As human as everyone else in the series. Humanity acquires a different meaning for each of them 👍🏽

[escapingrealtiylovinginsanity]

Rick Grimes: Insomnia NSFW  

Broadening my fandom horizons. My first TWD story and I’m excited to write more for Rick!  

The night is pleasantly cool, and the grassy area provides a decent cushion under you. The group had all managed to reunite and were trudging along after leaving Terminus looking for a safe place to make permanent residence. You were all exhausted but safe and together. Rick was lying behind you, holding you securely to his chest. His breath was warm and even against your neck. All in all, it was the best-case scenario in a crappy situation, except for one thing. 

You couldn’t sleep. 

Your body was exhausted and sinking into the ground in relief, ready for sleep. Your brain was not on the same page. It was going a million miles an hour in hundreds of different ways. You had bouts of insomnia throughout your life, but this one had to take the cake. You tried to lay still. Everyone was still on high alert and extra movement and rustling could easily wake up any of the sleeping parties. Not to mention Rick who had always been a light sleeper. “Ya need to get some sleep darlin’.” Rick’s voice is rough, his calloused hand tailing down your thigh to stop your unconscious jiggling.  

“I’m trying,” You whisper back in frustration. You want to sleep. You know tomorrow will be another long day of walking without a destination. If you had to fight off walkers or another group of people without having any sleep again tonight, you weren’t sure you would make it. Not unless the group pulled your weight on top of their own. “I’m so tired, Rick.” You felt a few tears mist your eyes, as embarrassment flooded you at your whiney remark. 

You feel a soft kiss on your shoulder as he hushes you. You shift against him trying to get comfortable. His hand caresses up your side soothingly. His sweetness starts making you feel worse. Just because you had barely been able to sleep the last week didn’t mean that he should have to suffer through it with you. “I can almost hear ya thinkin’ baby.” His strong hand slips under your shirt rubbing your stomach in gentle circles. His fingers inch closer to your waistband until the tips sneak under. 

“Rick,” You gasp, your hand going over his trapping it against your body to keep it from moving southward. “What are you doing?”  

“Turnin’ off that mind o’ yours.” He kissed down your neck, his beard scrapping at the delicate skin. His movements are slow and his words are slightly slurred. He is exhausted and half asleep himself. You try to object but he unbuttons your pants with a flick of his wrist. The zipper slides down as his hand pushes deeper cupping you through your underwear. “Let me take care o’ ya.” You stroke up his forearm as he rubs you through your cotton panties. You lean back farther into him as his other hand snakes around you kneading your breast. It’s been too long since he touched you like this. Even exhausted your body responds to him, arousal pooling in your lower stomach.  

You turn your head down and into his arm to muffle your moan as he slips a finger inside of you. He pumps it inside you a few times before adding another. You shift to open your thighs wider for him. It makes the angle deeper and Rick curls his fingers expertly. You whimper louder than you mean to when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, and he hushes you. He knows your body and he doesn’t tease; every movement is purposefully pushing you towards your release. You rock your hip as he rubs firm circles on your clit. 

“Rick,” You breathe nails digging into his arm. You are close and he knows it. His other hand comes up to cover your mouth. He sucks on your neck and doubles his efforts on your clit while keeping a steady thrusting of his fingers. You open your mouth to gasp, and he slips his finger inside. You moan sucking on them as your orgasm rushes through you. He works you through it making the orgasm linger, sparks of pleasure curling your toes in your worn boots. 

Your body goes limp, melting into him boneless. Your vision is still blurred from your orgasm and Rick still slowly caressing you. Your mind is blissfully blank, exhaustion echoing through your body. You feel Rick’s beard scratch at your neck, and you are sure he is saying something, but you can’t make out the words. You just hum your agreement falling into a deep sleep before his hand can leave your underwear.