"trying to get Ivan into the tumblr sexyman fandom wiki" anon here. I succeeded. He now has his own page on there. Yes yes yes I KNOW that he doesn't really "qualify" as a Tumblr sexyman (he's moreso just a regular sexyman) but once you visit the tumblr sexyman wiki you'll be surprise at what people there consider to be sexy (it's..... Bizarre to say the least) and there's like almost 2k characters who are considered to be sexymen on there. Once you get sucked into the sexyman wormhole you'll realize that there's more to sexymen outside of Tumblr and that it's alot more complicated than "suit and tie, is evil, is rich" ect ect. In the end a sexyman is just any character who is considered sexy by their fandom lollll
YOU ACTUALLY GOT HIM ON THERE 😭 CONGRATS 😭 Though Ivan isn't close to the big tumblr sexyman names I don't think it'll hurt too much if he's on the wiki. It's all in good fun, anyway. I can't believe I'm discussing a character's fandom perceived sexiness this late at night when it's a busy Monday tomorrow. Tumblr moment. Anyway good on you anon
i think everyone on sunnytwt needs to be sat down so i can explain to them what basic human empathy is. and then maybe i put them in a blender until they agree to write meta about the characters instead of whether or not charlie day got facial reconstruction surgery.
I think at this point I have to pretty much regard season 19 as the truest form of 'Crack Taken Seriously' which. . . huwa, I could do (but damn it would be a struggle...)
But only if you believe in the narrative *NOT* shown.
There's an After for these guys. But I think that's kind of up to us?
(. . . Yeah I'm already writing the AFTER fic. Fuck me.)
So unless some miracle happens and either the IP gets bought up and the crew gets to do some little shorts like what the Crwby is doing ...
Or Geoff and Gus ever pull off what Alexander Siddig and Andrew Robinson did for the Star Trek DS9 Bashir/Garak community.
I guess we just make our own canon at this point.
I do worry that my bio comes off as hostile to it/its pronouns— I’m not. I just don’t personally vibe with them and any pronouns except it/its is close enough while being relatively easy to write out.
How do you form a group that is open and welcoming and supportive to everyone who feels like they need said support but also make sure it doesnt get "highjacked" by people who fall much closer to what is considered "acceptable"?
It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.
In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"
"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."
It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"
In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."
Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.
***
In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.
***
The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.
***
By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"
I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"
She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."
"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.
When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.
***
By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.
***
Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.
1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.
(1)Learn the rules before you break them + Gather proper references
(2) Understand what you want to break and how
(3) Can't do it? Find someone who can
(4) It's going to look really bad for a while
(5) Have fun with it!
(1) -Yes, I am that kind of artist. Yet, not in the conventional way. I encourage people to go in guns blazing when it comes to drawing something new, then coming out analyzing what they know, and what they need to learn more of right away.
-Here, I broke down the anatomical pieces of Nour and Narinder's face with the same labels so you guys can understand this weird invisible pattern that I follow in my work. Doing this with any animal you're attempting to draw greatly improves your line confidence when drawing different face shapes. Also understanding the biological function for why animals look a certain way helps you keep consistency.
(3) Time to throw any artistic guilt you have for heavily referencing people's art OUT THE WINDOW and start ANALYZING PEOPLE'S WORK YOU WANT TO BE LIKE✨ I've always done this, having a reference of someone else's amazing work right next to my own drawing so I can try and understand how they make their magic work! No shame, no embarrassment, nada. Pure, unadulterated will and spite that I would be just as good as the artist who made me so motivated and happy with their work! I couldn't figure out how to make Nour's face both sheep-like, and humanly expressive, so I looked at a LOT of Zootopia and old Disney art for help!
(2) With how I draw narilamb, I'm still working on it (as you can see) but I wanted to break Narinder's face to be fluffier and slimmer, while Nour's face would be shorter and flatter. If you look at it for too long, it's absolutely going to look weird, in the way that if you look at Anna from Frozen for too long she starts looking really weird. The anatomy isn't meant to be correct or consistent, it's meant to convey the emotion and energy I want out of the characters in that moment. If you're able to properly get that across, then you don't need to think about how broken something looks, as long as your eye is happy enough to trick your brain into thinking what you're seeing is canny.
(4) Yeah, I hate this part too. It's going to look like shit at first. I can't even look at my art from a few months ago when I was figuring out their designs... God, so fucking ugly. If it weren't for the shittiness of those drawings, I would have never gotten here! Wading through the "trust the process" stage always really sucks, but it's absolutely worth the relief of when you finally get something to look right.
(5) Art is work, yes. It's stressful, it's long, it's straining, its draining, it's exclaiming, blah blah blah. But, I try to keep my art FUN. If I find my artwork becoming slow as I depressingly drag my pen over my tablet, I'm failing. You MUST keep spirit and life in your work. The spirit of emptiness or the life of sadness can have a very meaningful place in art, but those can only exist with keeping work light, easy, and fun! If you're stressing how a specific thing looks or how you can't get something to look right no matter what, FUCK IT. Draw something to bring the flavor back in your work! I'm kind of rambling, but just, HAVE FUN!✨️ Be messy, scream, laugh, slash canvases, throw paint, smash sculptures, tear apart books, GO CRAZY
Summary: You and Dean are always at each other’s throats, making it hard to hunt with each other. What you two need is a good way to release your frustrations, no matter who is around to hear it.
Square Filled: one bed for three (2021) for @spndeanbingo
Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3
x
Hunting with the Winchesters brings out two emotions: excitement and annoyance. Excitement because you love hunting with them, saving people, and killing monsters. You can do it by yourself but they’re so good at what they do, it makes sense to want to do it with them. Annoyance because you can’t stand Dean. He’s cocky, arrogant, bossy, and always thinks he’s right about everything. You can’t stand the man. Sam is usually the buffer between you and Dean and can often keep both of you calm but if you’re alone with the older Winchester, things won’t end well.
You’re also pissed off because he’s so hot. You’ve roomed next to him before; he knows exactly what he’s doing when he has a woman in his bed. Women fawn all over him whenever he walks into a room, and can you blame them? It pains you to admit but you often thought about being one of those women in his bed at times.
Not only does he piss you off, but you piss him off, too. You hunt just as well as he does if not a little better, and it drives him up a wall when you don’t listen to him. You go off on your own and do whatever it is that you want despite you always telling him you can handle it. It always seems to work out in the end for you which is what pisses him off.
Sam, on the other hand, is one of your best friends. You two get along great which is why you agreed to go on this hunt with them. He asked for your help knowing he and his brother wasn’t going to be enough. Dean’s been driving for nearly an entire day to get to Maine, so he decides to stop at some hotel instead of a motel. They have Men of Letters money so they can splurge on sleeping comfortably tonight.
There is a convention happening in town so there is only one room available by the time you get to them. Normally, it wouldn’t be a problem since you took turns sleeping in the bed whenever you were with the Winchesters. As long as there were two beds and a sofa bed, you’d be alright. However, when you get to the room, you are disappointed to see only one bed--a California King.
“Tell me there is a sofa bed,” you say. You walk over to the couch and lift the cushions only to be disappointed again. “Shit.”
“It’s fine. This is big enough for all three of us. Just sleep in the middle,” Sam says.
You barely look at Dean. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
“Don’t be a pussy,” Dean rolls his eyes.
“Excuse me?”
“Is sharing a bed with us that traumatic?”
“Yes, actually because you’ll be in there,” you sneer.
“Will you two quit it? We’re here to hunt, and we can’t do that if you’re at each other’s throats. Can’t you two just get along?”
“I know I can,” you say and cross your arms.
“I know I can,” Dean mocks you in a faux female voice.
You resist the urge to throw something at his fucking smug face.
“Fine, I’ll sleep in the bed with you two.”
“Fine.”
You grab your bathroom bag and lock yourself in the bathroom to do your nighttime routine. It takes twenty minutes to complete the entire routine, and you leave the bathroom once you feel refreshed and ready for bed. You grab your moisturizer and lift your right leg to rub the lotion onto your skin. Dean peeks at you from over the gun he’s cleaning. After doing your right leg, you do your left leg and Dean doesn’t take his eyes off you the entire time.
You put the lotion aside and crawl into bed between the two brothers. Dean finishes with his gun and puts it away to crawl in next to you. Sam is already snuggled under the covers with a book in his hand.
“Fuck,” Dean mutters.
“What?”
“You expect me to lay here and smell that girly shit?”
“If you don’t like it, sleep on the couch,” you smirk.
“Both of you, shut up and go to sleep,” Sam scolds you two like children.
Sam is the first to fall asleep since he can fall asleep anywhere, but you and Dean are a different story. You always have trouble falling asleep in beds that are not your own and this is no exception. It doesn’t help you’re in the middle of a Winchester sandwich. Sam is a heavy sleeper so he doesn’t feel you moving to get comfortable, but Dean does. He had to be a light sleeper to look after Sam so he can’t sleep unless you’re still.
“If you’re going to keep moving, go to the couch,” he hisses.
“I can’t get comfortable.”
Dean rolls onto his side, grabs your hips, and pulls you into him. You freeze the second you feel his hard cock on your ass. Dean’s hot breath falls over your ear and neck causing shivers to rave down your spine.
“Stop moving and go to sleep.” It’s kind of hard to go to sleep now when you can feel every inch of Dean’s cock pressed between your ass cheeks. You shift as you try to think about anything else, but him and you end up pressing your ass further into him. Dean’s teeth nip at your ear and he growls his next words. “Do not move.” Okay, now you’re moving just to piss him off. You can play him so easily. Dean’s hand slides over your hip to the front of your body where he presses his fingers to your clothed pussy. That causes you to still. “If you want to play this game, sweetheart, I’ll play this game. One rule. Don’t wake Sam.”
Dean’s hand slips underneath your silk pajama shorts, pleased to find you’re wearing skimpy cotton panties. He passes the cotton barrier and presses his fingers against your clit. You jerk against his body but he holds onto you tightly so you don’t move much. He runs two fingers down the length of your slit, gathering the wetness he feels.
“I haven’t even touched you and already, you’re so wet for me.”
He pushes one thick finger into you, and you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from crying out. Sam would kill you if he knew what was happening mere inches away from him. Dean pushes in a second finger and curls them to press against your g-spot.
“Fuck,” you gasp quietly.
“Do you feel what you do to me? You get me so fucking hard. It takes everything I have not to bend you over and fuck that attitude out of you,” he whispers against your ear.
It’s somehow hotter that he’s whispering to you instead of speaking normally. So intimately… so close.
“So do it,” you smirk.
Dean slams his fingers into you rapidly and rubs your clit in hard small circles. The pressure is becoming too much not to make noise, and you arch your back as much as possible. It’s a good thing Sam is a heavy sleeper otherwise he’d hear your heavy breathing and slick sounds from your pussy.
“Fuck, Dean,” you whimper.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me? Hmm?”
You can’t respond to him even if you want to. The pressure builds deep in your core, and he can feel you tightening around his fingers. Fuck, he can only imagine what you’d feel like around his cock and tongue. Next time. His cock is rock hard and pressing against your ass, begging for release, but he’s not going to take care of him until he takes care of you.
“Shit, I’m gonna come,” you whisper.
“Go ahead. I got you.”
He circles your clit hard and the pressure inside of you explodes, and you feel your entire body start to float from ecstasy. Your pussy clenches and unclenches as you come, and he continues to thrust his fingers in and out to ride out your high. When he knows you have no more to give him right now, he pulls his fingers out of you slowly to tease you. You don’t have to look at him to know he is sucking you off his own flesh.
“Damn, sweetheart. Next time, I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
“Okay,” you whisper.
“That’s just another thing I’m better at than you.”
“What thing?”
“Making you come,” he smirks. Your jaw drops several inches at his remarks, and he lets you go to give you some space. He turns over in the bed so that his back is facing you instead of his chest. “Go to bed.”
How the hell can you think about sleeping now when all you can think about is Dean and the possibilities he and his cock can give you?
x
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Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman at NADWCON 2011 (North American Discworld Convention) ❤
Neil: The single worst experience that we went through was, I think, the film. The first go round on the film, where it was bought by very nice people who convinced us they were very nice because we were absolute innocent. And I just remember going up for the first meeting with them.
And we were going up for the meeting, and Terry says, 'Here, come over here.'
I said, 'Okay.'
He said, 'Um, look, I'm not sure about these people, and you're not sure about these people. If this is our first meeting, if they're just completely barking, we should have a code word. And whoever says the code word, we both get up in unison and we leave'.
I said, 'Okay, so we need a code word that neither of us could conceivably say in normal conversation.'
And Terry says, 'Yes.'
I said, 'Okay, what about Biggles?' Now, Biggles, for those of you who don't know, was a famous...
Terry, joking: A famous Cardinal. [Cardinal Biggles in Monthy Python].
Neil: He was. Of course.
Terry: They're young, that's the only one they know.
Neil: Captain W. E. Johns wrote books about Biggles, who was a World War I flying ace who, with his pals Ginger and Algy used to go out and shoot out the evil Germans. So, if any Germans are here, you're not evil, it was just in this book. So. So, I say, 'What about Biggles?'
And Terry is, 'Okay. Biggles it is.'
So we head up for the meeting, and we're sitting there around the table talking to what seemed to be terribly nice, sensible people. And then the executive walks in. And the executive in this case was a woman who looked like she had mugged somebody 20 years younger than her and stolen her hair. And she walked in and she didn't... She said like, 'Hi, Neil. Hi, Terry. It's lovely to meet you both. Now, I'm sure that the guys have been talking to you about your book, Good Omens, and what we're thinking about now. Okay, let me just run some stuff past you. We figure the dynamics of this are the kid, Adam, whatever his name is, Newt, the witchfinder. We see him as, like, maybe being Tom Cruise, young, goodlooking, hunky, but he's looking for the witches. And the witch, Athaneema, I think her name was. Okay, so there's Newt and there's Athaneema'.
And I look at Terry, and I need to actually mime this - I think we should do this together.
.
Fun fact: Neil wrote the 'Athaneema' into the Good Omens series :).
inspired by and as a direct follow up to this post by @strangersteddierthings:
Eddie is horrified. He remembers the day Steve is referring to, though clearly not as well as Steve does. He calls out as Steve raced up the stairs and hears his door slam.
“Fuck.” He stares blankly at the wall in front of him. He can’t believe things went so bad so quickly. He’s been trying to get to know Steve better, get closer and damn if he didn’t just blow the hole thing. He’d shown up early, told Steve he needed to prepare as an excuse to spend some time with him. Despite everything that happened over spring break, Steve had remained guarded, standoffish no matter what Eddie tried. At least now he knew why. He’d fucked things up before he’d known there was something to fuck up.
He feels even worse about calling him a bully. Sure, Steve had looked the other way and even laughed at some of the mean jokes others had made, but he was far from the worst. That dubious award went to Billy Hargrove, but even without him, there was plenty of people who did far worse than Steve did.
Especially because Steve is right. He did hit first, metaphorically at least. He can justify it all he wants as trying to protect himself, but that doesn’t make it right. Steve all but admitted that as he said the same thing.
He feels nauseous at the realization that maybe he was just as bad as those he decried. That for all his talk about accepting outcasts and defying convention, he was just as prejudiced.
Swallowing hard, he heads back to the dining room and looks at the clock. There is no way he is going to be able to run the campaign today. He’s not going to be able to focus or even play without thinking about how things might have been if he hadn’t driven Steve off all those years ago. He grabs the phone and dials Gareth’s number.
“Emerson house, Sheryl speaking.”
“Hi Mrs. Emerson, it’s Eddie.” Eddie is proud that he manages to keep his voice even. “Is Gareth there?”
“Oh, yes! Let me go get him for you.”
“Thanks Mrs. Emerson.” Eddie focuses on breathing while he waits.
“Eddie? Hey man, what’s up?”
Eddie breathes out. “Hey Gareth. Look, I know its last minute, but we’re gonna have to postpone Hellfire. Something came up.”
He could hear Gareth’s frown through the phone. “Postpone? What happened, did Harrington do something?”
As if he couldn’t feel worse. “Nah. I’ll explain later, but can you call Jeff and Frank, let them know? I gotta call the freshman, too.”
“Alright, but I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Fair enough. Talk to you tomorrow.” Eddie promises before hanging up. He weighs his options for how to tell the Party. Eventually, he decides on calling Mike, know that the younger teen won’t push too much. He’s dialing the Wheeler home before he can second guess his decision.
“This is Mike.”
Eddie feels a rush of gratitude that Mike is the one who answered, rather than Nancy or one of their parents. “Hey Mike, it’s Eddie. Listen, Steve’s not feeling great and having Hellfire here isn’t going to help. Can you call the rest of the Party, let them know we’re gonna move it to another day? I’ll keep an eye on Steve.”
Eddie knows Mike is a confused, given how adamant he’s been in the past about not canceling or moving Hellfire, but as he expected, Mike accepts what he says at face value. “Sure. Need us to bring anything?”
“Nah, I’ve got it. Pretty sure he just needs some peace and quiet so he can rest. But thanks.”
They say their goodbyes and Eddie puts the phone back on the hook. With that done, he checks that the door is locked and faces the stairs. Now for the hard part. He’s not sure what he’s going to say, if there is anything he can say that will fix this, but he has to try. Even if doesn’t change things between him and Steve, Steve deserves at least that much. Every step feels like it takes effort, chest heavy with guilt, but it only takes him a few moments to get to Steve’s door.
It’s closed, which doesn’t surprise him. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before knocking. Nothing.
“Steve?” If it wasn’t for the quiet sound of Steve’s breathing he could hear through the door, Eddie would think he had left. He glad that he at least didn’t drive Steve out of his own home. He rests his forehead on the door.
“I’m sorry.” Eddie hopes Steve can hear how much he means it. “You’re right, I fucked up. I made an assumption and took out my anger at other people on you. And that wasn’t fair and it’s not okay. But I want you to know that I’m sorry. Even if it wasn’t you, I shouldn’t have done that.” He lets out a hysterical laugh as he realizes - “And despite that, you still humor the kids when they talk about D&D and agreed to let us play here and didn’t punch me in the face, which makes you a better man than I.”
He falls silent, listens as Steve’s breathing slows. He isn’t sure how long he stands there. He wonders how many other people he hurt this way, without even realizing. Knows he wants to do better, be better.
He sighs, feeling his shoulders slump. “Anyway, I canceled Hellfire for today. I told everyone something came up, don’t worry about that. I’ll make up some story, make sure they know its not your fault. And uh, let me know if you want to hang out again or something. I know I’ve been around a lot; didn’t realize that I was making you so uncomfortable, which is probably another thing I should apologize for. Anyway. Yeah. I’ll see you around, okay?”
He waits a moment for an answer, but when none comes, he backs away from the door and walks downstairs to gather his stuff. It hurts, but he knows Steve deserves space and to be the one to initiate contact. He has some thinking to do, anyway.