#both goodbye and hello

[libroseitm]

If anyone has ran out of ideas for the campaign to get season 3 for ofmd, here's some things some people might not have thought of:

Like and comment on all these ofmd videos produced by HBO and any others you can find on their channel:

https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLSduohp5OGX46kbWeHctJ9gnj3Kp-UEmy&si=RHoxLSaux1S9n5gK

Rate OFMD episodes highly on IMBD, and review the story in a heartfelt and positive way while asking politely for a renew:

https://m.imdb.com/title/tt11000902/?ref_=ttep_ov

Like and comment on official BBC ofmd videos and any more you can find on their chanel:

https://youtu.be/2e7r_e_bitc?si=SCxDGIapU7KEJNfJ

https://youtu.be/stEEi5BF7K8?si=PF22KuZa7Yz7irs0

https://youtube.com/shorts/bl-4h3hS9tU?si=TwHK-yEBlULtID7f

Rate OFMD highly on rotten tomatoes:

https://www.rottentomatoes.com/tv/our_flag_means_death/s01

If you do art, make new fanart and share old fanart and tag official accounts in your artwork on all your social media pages. Artwork is always more eyecatching and shows an extra level of care for what you're doing.

[flaine]

GLEEFUL PAINTBOX PROJECT | Week 17: Hello

first and last lyrics sung in every season ♪

[small-strong-bookish-butch]

The only other openly autistic person at the slam asking if that's my book on linguistics, and both of us having a 15 minute overview conversation about proto-European languages (his knowledge), how speech as communication in humans is a bug rather than a feature (both), how non-speech communication that's *not* 'typical' body language isn't valued or seen as legitimate by most people at all (both), non-speech communication in other species of animals and how that's valued (or not) (both, mostly him), and how the proto-Indus river civilization just got wiped out but left a lot of communication we don't have the key to decode (his knowledge), with intense eye contact and a fist bump at the end 🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺🥺

[suddencolds]

.

[xxlovelynovaxx]

Ah. "Animals rights" bullshit okay. Being animals that are not obligate herbivores and eating the flesh of other animals because of it is "oppressing" non-human animals. And they called out my comparing it to anti-choicers because "murder is different than death" okay well anti-choicers think abortion is murder. I don't happen to consider a human killing an animal for food murder any more than I consider an animal killing another animal for food murder, especially when as you pointed out yourself some people can't survive without meat.

Or is it a contract killing/hit on every animal You've ever eaten to survive? Are you just not a murderer because you paid not to get your hands dirty?

Like yeah it's fucking NATURAL. Humans aren't some wondrous ascended beings that don't crawl through the dirt. We fuck and fight and survive and yes, part of that survival for many is KILLING.

And it's good that you don't think people should be forced onto veganism because that would be as bad as the people who want to force all animals to eat synthetic meat and hunt via robots or whatever but my gods can you imagine telling someone who has been a vegetarian by choice for years for animal WELFARE purposes (not rights) who is vegan for disability reasons that they are "justifying the oppression of animals" and "killing animals for food is murder" when you literally can't go vegan for health reasons yourself? Okay murderer. Guess your life matters more than those oppressed animals.

Like sorry I'm going full "you're an asshole and I despise you and I'm genuinely sorry for myself that I thought we could be friends".

Like yeah the anti-choicer metaphor wasn't perfect. But it also got you to cut right to the heart of the matter. You are so divorced from humans as part of the ecosystem and food chain you genuinely believe we have some moral duty to not kill animals (but only animals, not plants or fungi, which are also living and have some measure of sentience) and to hold ourselves separate from the biosphere to the greatest extent possible.

That's just ecofascism 101. Are we gonna do the "any form of hunting or land management, even responsibly by indigenous stewards using traditional practices is bad" next? Or are we gonna avoid that one because you hopefully know better than THAT and simply think that removing humans from ONLY one part of the consumptive chain is ✨different✨?

For reference:

Also where does "choosing to die" come in to this? I wasn't talking about euthanasia, I was talking about withdrawing the life support provided by a human body if the owner of that body stops consenting to providing it, therefore depriving a fetus dependent on that life support for survival of said survival. I'm pretty sure the fetus doesn't have a choice in the matter. (Whether or not it's "alive" doesn't have much to do with anything since it's been made pretty clear that medical autonomy in terms of mandated use of your body's parts or resources is unethical at ANY point. Even if you ARE killing it, we've determined that's the most ethical option.)

Also if we're going to make bullshit oppression claims why don't we talk about transspecies people who are obligate carnivores?

[rainbowcolored7]

No no no just thinking about the pool scene again and how it was basically entirely improvised and how beautiful it was and how much trust Mile and Apo have in each other and how much dedication they have to their characters and how beautiful it was shot, with so much love, and now having the knowledge that it was Porsche's message to Kinn that he would do anything for him but he still needs his own agency in his life and needed Kinn to trust him to find his own answers and and and

[quietwingsinthesky]

👀👀👀 Sorry for adding to your work but can I get Sam drinking Lucifer's blood

Hello hello hello anon sorry for the wait but hopefully the extra uh 3000 words makes up for it <3 and also born-again identity fix-it since it’s topical for me atm.

Sam is very familiar with dying.

It’s usually faster than this. He closes his eyes, and he’s facing Dean in Cold Oak with a knife in his spine or he’s sitting on a motel bed with a shotgun pointed at his chest. It hurts, but it’s brief like a ripped off band-aid. He goes into the cold, beckoning dark. He feels safe there. All the world fades away. Just like falling asleep, he wakes up a little later, his wounds vanished like a dream but the dried blood on his clothes left as a warning.

He’s never marinated in his own death before. He can feel it seeping into his pores. His head is throbbing like thunder even when Lucifer shuts up, too far gone to survive this without a miracle that isn’t coming. He was wondering a while ago what parts of him would fail first, and Lucifer “helped” by counting down the hours for him, straddling Sam’s torso with his fingers trailing over his skin. Poking Sam’s ribs vindictively as he laid out exactly when Sam could expect his organs to give up the fight. “First time dying alone, Sammy?” he said, doing that awful thing where his voice got soft and sympathetic just so that he could tear it away a moment later. “Dean’s not going to make it back in time. We knew that the minute he left.” Sam looked away from him, heave of his head to the side. “I’m here. I won’t leave you. Isn’t that comforting?”

He’d waited for a response. Sam couldn’t give him one. He’d decided to find the answer inside Sam instead, a vivisection that stretched on and on until Sam couldn’t cry anymore, and when it was over, there was no blood, no cuts, just Lucifer looking so pleased with himself as Sam tried not to throw up. Sam was too tired to do anything but turn away from him again.

Something new had kept Sam awake the past few days as his time ran out. A sound he’d been deafened by once before as the final seal broke and the Cage opened under his feet and all the light and power that was Lucifer came screaming out. Hearing it now made his teeth rattle. He’s never heard his hallucination make anything close to that noise. He taunts and insults and shouts in a very human way. Even his torture is crude and physical. Sam isn’t fit to be haunted by an angel, no matter how fallen. When the sound finally went silent again, Sam wasn't sure if he was relieved or not.

His hallucination hadn’t given him more than a day before Sam’s liver fails first. He might be lying. The fallen-out hairs on Sam’s pillow beg to differ.

Sam’s mind is filled with calm and dreadful certainty. It’s over. He lost.

And Lucifer still won’t shut up. He’s doing it to rub it in now, gloating. Sam weakly cups his ears, and that does nothing to block it out.

There’s been someone else in his room for the past day. She looks like a woman, finely dressed, watching him impassively as his condition worsens. She’s not one of the staff. He’s pretty sure no one else can see her, no one but him and Lucifer.

“Vulture,” Lucifer spits at her, “I’m not finished. Find somewhere else to circle.” She doesn’t react except to look at her watch and then look at Sam. There is something like pity in her eyes, the hollow sort that brings no comfort and takes no action. Sam feels weirdly grateful to Lucifer for snapping at her like a feral dog, even if she can’t hear it. There’s no way he could do it himself.

It’s not hard to guess what she is and who she’s here for.

Sam stares at her as his head throbs. Every part of his body aches. His heartbeat feels weak. She frowns, nods, and taps her watch. Not long, then. He wishes Dean hadn’t bothered to try and save him. He wants one last embrace, Dean’s voice all rough and faux hopeful telling him it’ll be okay, they figure this out. If nothing else, it’s comforting that with Crowley’s hands on the reins of Hell, no demon alive will be taking a deal with Dean.

Sam’s tired. It’s okay. He won’t fight. He’ll go quiet.

“Back to me,” Lucifer says, because he never lets Sam forget it.

Sam doesn’t even care. He’s out of vacation days. It’s back to the Cage, where he belongs. Castiel never should have pulled him out. Dean never should have dragged his soul along, too. He wasn’t worth the effort.

Lucifer laughs again. Sam flinches. The reaper folds her arms.

And then, for the first time in days, there’s silence.

Sam doesn’t trust it. He doesn’t let his eyes close. The longer it stretches on, the more his body tenses in anticipation. The other shoe will drop. It’s only a matter of time.

He hears a beating sound. His hair gets blown out of place, tickling his face. He can see three people in his room.

“Sam?” asks Lucifer, softly. He doesn’t look very good. He’s bleeding, open sores that line his face, his hands, and probably other places Sam can’t see. Sam’s head swims. His eyes waver back to the Lucifer who was here first, who doesn’t have a mark on him and never has. He wears his face like he never needed Sam’s.

“It isn’t enough I have to share you with her. Now I’m encroaching on my own territory?” he says like he’s about to throw a tantrum.

The other Lucifer turns to face him. Sam’s hallucination of him is as caught off-guard as Sam feels. Lucifer, the one who bleeds, tilts his head, looks this image of himself up and down, and when he looks back over at Sam, his expression is contorted in sorrow. “Is that how you see me?” he asks.

“It’s what we are,” the hallucination answers for Sam. Sam’s not sure which ‘we’ he’s talking about.

“Be quiet,” Lucifer orders. Sam’s eyes widen as the impossible happens, a flicker along the edge of his hallucination’s appearance.

“If Sam can’t make me, what makes you think you-“ There’s a desperate edge to his tone, wholly unlike the way he ever sounded when Sam banished him. Lucifer glares at him.

“I said, shut up.”

He’s gone. Just like that. Sam exhales. Lucifer turns to the reaper.

“You can leave.”

The reaper’s voice follows, “We have an appointment.” Lucifer sighs heavily.

“You had one.” He comes closer to Sam, sitting on the side of the cot. Sam shuts his eyes tight. Lucifer touches his shoulder. He feels cold. With all the hellfire in Sam’s head, he’d forgotten that. “He belongs to me. When he dies, I’m who you’d deliver his soul to.” He waits a beat. “Am I right?”

“You are,” the reaper confirms.

“Then your role here’s irrelevant. I’m collecting him personally.” Sam shakes. Lucifer’s attention turns, his hand weighing heavier on Sam’s shoulder. “Don’t be afraid, Sam. I’m here.” He pets Sam’s hair, and he grimaces when strands pull free too easily. “I let you out of my sight for five minutes…” his voice trails off. There’s too much pain in it for him to speak around. He swallows and looks back over his shoulder at the reaper. “I told you to leave.”

“I still have to make sure that his soul crosses over.” She makes Sam sound like a job. An important one, but still just business. Lucifer hates that. Sam’s not sure how he knows exactly, but he can feel it prickling under his own skin.

“It won’t be.” Lucifer’s fingers trail over Sam’s face, from the bags under his eyes to the almost healed bruises from his accident. “I won’t tell you again. I have spent the last century dragging myself out of Hell to find him. You don’t want to be the one to get in my way now.” She makes an extremely disgruntled sigh.

And then there’s only one person in the room with Sam. Alone together at last.

Sam’s eyes want to close badly. This Lucifer is so quiet, his touch so gentle and calming.

“No, not yet, Sam,” Lucifer says. “If you fall asleep now, you won’t wake up. Let’s not get on Death’s nerves anymore than we already have.” Sam whimpers. He should have known this was all too good to be true. Not even this Lucifer will let him sleep. “I know,” he murmurs, “I know. Believe me, I plan to whisk you away to a much more comfortable bed than this one and force you to sleep for a week, but there’s something we have to take care of first.” Lucifer’s hand slides down his body to rest on his chest. Sam breathes in, pushing his hand up minutely. His eyes narrow for a moment, searching. What he finds makes his frown deepen.

Sam makes a questioning noise. It’s more than he’s been able to force himself to do for a while. Lucifer’s made him talkative. Lucifer glances up to meet his eyes before fixing them back on Sam’s middle. “There’s a lot of damage here, Sam. The Cage doesn’t let anything go that easily. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.” Sam almost chokes on a laugh. Easily. “I know how to heal you. I need your consent to-“

“No,” Sam croaks. Lucifer stops.

“I don’t want you to die,” he says, stubborn and upset.

“I'm not your vessel.” Speaking makes Sam feel like he’s going to vomit or pass out or both. Lucifer’s eyes widen for a moment before he regains his composure.

"That's not what I'm asking." Sam finds that hard to believe. Both of their bodies are falling apart. "You really think I'm just a monster, don't you?" He looks like Sam has actually hurt him. Sam... isn't sure what he thinks. His head is too filled with smoke, the clashing battle between the Lucifer in his mind who wanted to tear into him and the one sitting on his cot who wants to put him back together. He can't make them fit together. Lucifer is touching his face again. His thumb presses against Sam's lips like that's the closest either of them can bear to a kiss. "You need a little of me inside you for your body to be strong enough to heal itself, but that doesn't mean I have to take you as a vessel." Sam makes a face. "Stop looking at me like that. It wasn't an innuendo. I'm offering to bleed for you."

The fear that clutches Sam's chest makes his weak heart do double-time. He tries to push Lucifer's hand away from his face, but even if he had been human, Sam doubts he could have. "No," he forces out, "no, please, don't."

"Sam, calm down. You'll hurt yourself." Sam refuses. He won't do it again. He won't become that thing again, the monster Dean wanted to put down, selfish and arrogant and the reason the whole world was going to end. He won't let Lucifer turn him into that. Lucifer doesn't move, both hands on Sam's shoulders to keep him from trying to roll out of the bed to escape. He speaks slowly, pulling Sam back from the edge of panic, "I'm not a demon. My blood isn't addictive and it can't change you. Nothing about me can change you." His palm cups Sam's face again. "I'm already a part of you."

He's telling the truth. Sam can feel it. He doesn't understand how.

"Do I have your consent?" Lucifer asks again. Sam looks into his eyes. Lucifer cares about his answer. Sam inhales sharply as he realizes that Lucifer will save him, but that he also loves Sam enough to let him go. He won't be happy about it, but he'll respect that last wish. Sam can say no. Maybe it's a meaningless gesture when his soul will still be folded into Lucifer's grace, but if he really wants this to be over, if it's too much, than he can close his eyes and go to sleep. It'll be just like every other time, brief pain, into the dark, to be kept safe, only this time he will never wake up. Sam lays his hand over Lucifer's. All the devil cares about is what will make him happy.

"Yes," Sam decides. Lucifer is here, and it feels like he can breathe again. Quickly, Lucifer withdraws his hand. A cut opens over a patch of unblemished skin. It will be cleaner that way, but Sam's exhausted mind wonders if Lucifer would let him up to press his mouth against the burns and lick the blood up from them. He doesn't have long to contemplate that before Lucifer holds the cut over his mouth. Bright red blood drips from the cut, dotting Sam's chapped lips. His tongue slides out to taste it and more fall into his open mouth. It’s nothing like demon blood. The only similarity is how quickly the need for more consumes his thoughts. A drop or two isn't enough to sate him. He reaches for Lucifer's arm, hands trembling, and drags the cut down to his mouth. Lucifer lets him, leaning in to give Sam a better angle to latch onto the wound.

The cut is deep enough that when Sam sucks on it, it flows into his mouth like a stream. Lucifer's veins are opened up for him. Sam shuts his eyes, losing himself to it in seconds. There's a voice in the back of his head demanding that he pull all of Lucifer inside him, where he belongs, where Sam needs him. With thirsty gulps, he tries to make that a reality. Lucifer's other hand strokes his hair, lifting Sam's head slightly so that he doesn't choke while he's drinking. Sam's tongue keeps the cut wet, wriggling its way into Lucifer's flesh greedily like he can coax out more blood that way. The supply is steady, always enough to fill Sam's mouth, but not so much that he can't swallow it down in time. Lucifer's vessel obeys him, and it won't heal itself until Sam has first.

"Take everything you need," Lucifer encourages. Sam is holding on too tight, his nails digging little crescents into Lucifer's already bruised skin. He doesn't complain. Sam's not sure he can even feel it above the delirious joy of part of him being accepted back into Sam's body. "Take it all, if you want to. You can. I'd let you." Sam pulls off the cut to breathe. It still drips over his gasping mouth, drops rolling down his tongue to the back of his throat. The metallic taste lingers. There's no sulfur in Lucifer's blood, nothing but pure salvation, saved for Sam alone.

Drinking from him feels like trying to swallow an nuclear reactor. Sam can't get enough of him. The remnants of Lucifer's grace are mixed in with every drop, filling Sam up. Under his skin, he feels like his insides are being caressed, every pain wiped away. His heartbeat strengthens as Lucifer's grace gets into his own veins and powers the cells through. The fog in Sam's head doesn't lift, but it clears more than it has in days.

He brings Lucifer's wrist back to his mouth and latches on again.

Sam holds onto him with more strength than his body should have. He keeps drinking, mouthful after mouthful. With each breath, each heartbeat, Lucifer’s grace pumps further through every organ. Sam’s lips are smeared with his blood.

He’s not sure how long he drinks from Lucifer. He goes until his stomach starts to protest and Lucifer himself looks pale and unsteady. He’s stopped petting Sam’s hair to keep a hand against the cot, leaning heavily on it but never taking away his blood. Sam laps at his wrist gratefully before he pushes it away. It’s the reminder he’s needed for months of his own willpower.

Lucifer looks worse than he did when he arrived. There’s another wound blistering at the collar of his shirt. Sam reaches for him. Lucifer offers his wrist again, but Sam bypasses it, grasping his shoulder and drawing him close. Lucifer bows over Sam as Sam gently kisses the burns. He wishes that was enough to heal Lucifer.

“What’s the plan now?” Sam asks. He’s running on the strength of his high, but beneath it, he can still feel his body trying to shut him down and pass out. He resists of his own free will for a few moments longer in Lucifer’s presence. Lucifer smiles.

”That was the plan. I came to save you, and now I have.” Sam presses his lips against a scabbed-over sore. Lucifer is so beautiful. He’d almost forgotten that with only the pale imitation of his hallucination to look at. “I can bring you somewhere more comfortable to rest if you give me a minute to recover.”

”And after that?”

”I don’t know.” His eyes drift over to the desk on the opposite side of the room. It’s empty. It will remain empty. Sam can’t feel the whispering inside of his head that means the hallucination is about to come back. Even if it did, Lucifer has chased it off once.

“Stay with me,” Sam says. Lucifer looks back at him. He’s surprised, but with the offer given freely, he won’t deny himself what he needs. If Lucifer had a hard time existing without Sam when he had a purpose, as terrible an ends as the Apocalypse was, Sam can’t imagine he’d have any idea how to find his way in the world now without him.

And more importantly, Sam missed him.

”Okay,” Lucifer breathes, turning his head so that Sam’s next kiss presses to his mouth. It leaves his own blood on bottom lip, which Sam licks off. Then, he brushes another kiss to a burn on Lucifer’s chin. “They're only going to get worse,” Lucifer tells him. “I can’t heal them.”

“As long as we can figure out a way for your vessel to hold you, I don’t care.” He kisses another. This one is bleeding, and Sam doesn’t spare a thought to kissing it anyway. “Besides, I’ve got some new scars to show you, too.”

”Later,” Lucifer says. He lays Sam back down. Sam doesn’t resist. Not even the angel blood inside him can keep him conscious now. Lucifer lays his hand over Sam’s eyes. “I promise, when you wake up, it won’t be in this cell.” Sam chuckles weakly. The moment before he passes out, he remembers that Dean is going to return at some point. He opens his mouth to tell Lucifer to leave a note for him or something to let Dean knows that the devil’s (consensually) kidnapping his brother, but he’s gone before he can get a single word out.

[girlwithfish]

😭this person said this abt the guy from waveform* im crying

[lisbonsteresa]

no comment

[lacecap]

Hello! I was wondering if you have something against your tunes being associated with fandom stuff (like if I feel it fits a character well and wanted to draw that character to go with the song). I'm wondering about shapes specifically.

Hi!!! thank you for taking the time to ask; in *general, not at all!! I find myself associating my own songs w other stories sometimes & I have to restrain myself from making them fan songs LOL

[love-killed-the-superstar]

*peppers my turtletitanshipping playlist with some break up songs because of the inevitability of them having to part ways when the time portal is completed*

[bumblingbabooshka]

Tuvok and Seven should hang out like every other day for long stretches of time not saying a word to each other for hours on end. Some days they don’t say anything the entire time they hang out, they just meet at the agreed upon location and do their separate tasks/hobbies there before leaving. 

[poptartmochi]

the wrestlemania of the mind wages on.. ghost grinder + honeybee having a hell in a cell match in the arena that is the 👯‍♀️ playlist

[skenpiel]

SIIIIIIIGH. i cant BELIEVE im gonna have to demote myself to LIEUTENANT just on account of not finding a good straight band for the rank insignia. dies forever

[haycartsflowercarts]

My official, very serious, very professional opinion on Obi-Wan Kenobi, Part VI:

This Is The Best, There Is Nothing I Don’t Love

[phoenixiancrystallist]

Somebody stop me before I do something stupid like abandon 200k+ words of isekai fanfic I've been working on and having fun with to write the exact same thing only the isekai'd character doesn't share a language with the world she's been isekai'd into

Because I'd totally do it.