#posting so i STOP editing this part

[samble-moved]

post itself

false flags

trans/adjacent tags

accessibility features

tumblr live post (thanks for the link, @problemnyatic)

flashing / strobing / lights

unblockable flashing ad

buying ad free

staff @/macmanx guilt trip

list of staff + more issues

[chemicalarospec]

how do you think Light Yagami was impacted by 9/11. he would have been 14 btw.

[coquelicoq]

what i like especially about the pronouns in the goblin emperor is that this language doesn't just have the T-V distinction (aka informal vs. formal second-person pronouns, in this case 'thou' vs. 'you'), it also has informal and formal first-person pronouns. having BOTH of these distinctions in the same language lets you fine-tune your tone by mixing and matching. with only one axis of formality, when you use informal pronouns, are you being familiar in an intimate way, or in an insolent or dismissive way? when you use formal pronouns, are you being polite or standoffish? you can't tell just from the pronouns; there's ambiguity. but a language where you can use a formal first-person pronoun in the same sentence as an informal second-person pronoun allows you to distance yourself (via the formal first) while also being familiar (via the informal second), thereby achieving the conversational tenor known to linguists as Fuck Thee Specifically.

[musashi]

Hi Tumblr I need to win an argument

EDIT: stop oversharing about your mental illness on my silly lighthearted poll i made to dunk on my girlfriend. you are not cute or charming and you make people uncomfortable. therapy

[stabbyfoxandrew]

as one might expect, I am also asking for the boy with the teeth. --@quiescentdestiny

WIP Wednesday (4/3) | Vampire Andrew AU (Part 101)

Neil isn’t sure what was going on with the others all through their little impromptu practice, but it makes him feel like he’s missing something huge. Hell, he thought he was the one with secrets here. But he might not be alone. 

Actually, he’s completely alone right now. Sort of. He's in a shower stall. Which he’s incredibly grateful for. 

Hiding marks and lumps and bruises has been a struggle his whole life long. And now it’s evolved to scars. None of them are pretty and they all come with a zillion questions. That’s why throughout his time in Millport he always opted to shower last, once everyone else was through. But he’s got plenty of privacy here, so he takes advantage of it. And borrows some of Nicky’s soap. 

He’ll have to get some of his own for next time and he jots it down in his mental to-do list. Other items on this list include: finding a safe to keep his binder in, dying his hair again, and kicking Andrew Minyard in the teeth.

He doubts the rest of his team would be alright with that last thing. Maybe he’ll save that one for later. He’s still not sure exactly what Andrew’s problem is. But he knows that he doesn’t like the way the goalie looks at him. Like he wants to hurt him.

Neil knows that look. He’s seen it hundreds of times on dozens of faces. And it always ends badly. He scrubs over that scar on his shoulder and sees a flash of his father, stalking towards him with the iron. Always ends badly… 

—

After Neil is done in the shower, he quickly towels off and changes back into the clothes he wore in. Then he’s not sure what to do. Because it’s strange to just stand in here and wait. But he'd rather die than have to spend a minute alone with Andrew out in the stadium. 

So… He chooses the creepy waiting option, which gets him a weird look from Aaron, the next one out. 

“You don’t have to wait for us. The door’s right there,” Aaron says, earning him no points with Neil.

“Kind of don’t want your brother to kill me or something while Kevin’s not looking.” Neil says, making Aaron’s face twist into something grave and making Nicky laugh nervously as he comes out of his stall with his towel around his waist.

“Yeah. You’re right. You should stay here.” Nicky says. Then he winks. “You can watch me change if you want to.”

Aaron fake gags and Nicky shoves him.

“Um, no offense. But no thanks.” Neil says, closing his eyes to lean against the far wall.

“Well, shucks.” Nicky says, then there’s the rustle of clothes. “You know, Andrew’s not that bad. I think you just caught him on a bad day.”

“Oh really? He must've been having a bad day in Millport, too."

“Yeah, actually,” says Kevin from his stall. “Andrew hates planes. So the flight we had to take to get there rattled him a bit.”

“Oh.” Neil can sort of understand that, but… “So him feeling rattled by a plane means I get my ribs smashed in?”

“Wait, what?” Nicky says, and he’s closer than Neil expects so he opens his eyes to see the backliner fully dressed and rubbing his hair with a t-shirt.

“Andrew swung a racquet into my chest in Millport.” Neil tells him.

“Oh my god.” Nicky looks down at Neil’s abdomen with wide eyes. “He… didn’t really tell us that.”

“I figured.” Neil shrugs. “It’s fine. I lived.”

“Kevin, are you almost done or are you planning on using the county’s entire supply of water?” Aaron says.

Kevin huffs. “I’m almost done.”

“God, the steam is killing me.” Aaron says, starting for the door. Nicky nods and follows and Neil gets in line behind him.

“Oh!” Nicky starts as the three of them exit the locker room. “I forgot to ask, how were you able to tell the minis apart?”

“Don’t fucking call us that,” Aaron says, shoving Nicky arm. But they’re both looking at him expectantly. So Neil gives them the truth.

“Your teeth are different.” Neil says, making Nicky freeze up midstep and Aaron turn to look at him, confused.

“Our teeth.” He repeats.

“Yeah. Andrew’s are sort of pointy. Yours are,” Neil almost says ‘crooked’, but that’s a bit ruder than he means to be, “normal.”

“Oh, that’s weird. I’ve never noticed,” Nicky says, a bit of high-pitched laughter following. Neil gives him a look. He’s not sure how someone who spends a lot of time with the twins wouldn’t notice. Neil recalls the way Andrew had grinned down at him in Millport, the lights had glinted off his teeth and made him look sort of scary. Well, as scary as a five foot tall gnome of a man can be.

“Why, my ears are burning,” says a voice from the stands. It startles Neil a bit, he looks up to see Andrew looking down at him. “You three must be talking about me. How rude.”

[fiepige]

Me: My concept for Venom!Hobie is dark and depressing cause there is no way Hobie would ever get a symbiote and be happy about it

Also me: What if Hobie had a symbiote that could take the form of a cat and it would chill on his shoulder?

[call-me-aesthetic]

Not me posting a continuation after a whole ass year had pasted /j 😍☝️

Now have the vice dorm leaders this time hehe

[ 1 ] [ 3 ] [ Bonus ]

[g0tmilkx3]

Sure Looks Strange to Me I

You met Emerald Haywood purely by chance. You didn’t expect to go through a near death experience with her but stranger things have happened.

WARNINGS: Mature, NOPE spoilers, swearing, crude jokes, drug use (weed), death mention, suggestive language, mentions of oral sex (female receiving), this story is lesbian so yes the relationship moves very fast for no reason, written like a romcom, not proofread

Dividers by: Firefly-Graphics

Part 1 Part 2

“Hey! I’m gonna need help setting these cameras up”

“Why can’t Nessie help?”

“Because she’s retail plus you’re the only other person who knows the system like I do”

“Come on Angel I’m off in 30 minutes” you reasoned. It’d been a long day of monotonous transactions and backroom stocking. There was nothing more you wanted to do than go home and get some much needed rest.

“Dude, stop being a crybaby and just help me out. You can write it off as overtime. Plus you’ve been talking about wanting the new AirPods” he wiggled his eyebrows at you, trying his hardest to sell you on this.

“Ew stop it” you laughed “let’s just get this over with” Angel shot you an appreciative smile as he exited the backroom. You followed behind your coworker turned best friend already counting down the minutes until you were back home and in bed.

After you helped Angel load the newly purchased camera system in the company owned van you two were off.

“…I mean she didn’t even call me after. Not even for the final closure fuck” Angel slammed his hand against the leather steering wheel. The two of you had been driving for almost an hour out to the Haywood ranch. Angel spent maybe 15 minutes of that talking about UFO’s and the rest of the time crying over his ex.

“Dude you complained about her every. day.” you loved your best friend but boy was he delusional. His tumultuous relationship with his now ex-girlfriend was anything but happy. You silently wondered why he was grieving its end so hard. You looked to him — maybe he wasn’t delusional. Maybe he was just in love. What’s the difference anyway?

“Yeah but she was the one” he exclaimed once again “what great couple doesn’t go through shit. Look at Beyoncé and Jay-Z!”

“They’re millionaires! They can afford to be unhappy.”

“Ah you don’t get it” he grumbled gripping the steering wheel. After a beat of silence he turned to you and opened his mouth once again “do you think these guys are in a UFO hotspot?”

“What?” you turned from your phone looking at him incredulously “is that what they told you?”

“They didn’t tell me”

“Oh…”

“But they ‘told’ me alright”

“Dude.”

He clamped his mouth shut settling back in his seat.

“I don’t know I’ve got a feeling” he added “plus I trust them”

“Yeah me too could you turn the radio on?” you asked before stifling your laughter. He shot you a look that said ‘stop being mean to me’. You patted his shoulder in reassurance “love ya dude.”

“Yeah yeah” he quirked a smile “when we get abducted you won’t be laughing.” Angel never held grudges or took things too seriously. That’s probably why your friendship had lasted so long.

After a short stretch of silence he eventually began drumming his hands on the wheel to the song playing on the radio.

“You’re a strange animal…” he hummed “hey you remember this song? Gordy’s home theme song”

“What?“ you didn’t bother looking from your phone this time.

“Aw come on. You’re a strange animal that’s what I know” he excitedly continued “with Jupe from Kid Sheriff”

“I was born this century you know?”

“You’re just uncultured”

“Nobody remembers that show man” you laughed going back to your word scrabble app.

The two of you soon turned down a long stretch of dirt road. Down the long and winding pathway a sizable house peaked into view. It sat smack dab in the middle of a substantial piece of land.

“Okay, now be on the lookout for UFO’s” Angel muttered eyes to the sky. You quietly laughed at your friend remembering just how much you loved him and his quirks.

You and Angel had known each other since middle school. You both decided early on that the two of you were going to be glued at the hip. You just worked together. It made sense.

He was the first person you told about your sexuality. You half expected him to change or to say something weirdly sexual like most boys that age, but he only smiled. His freshmen face stretched around his newly acquired braces and with a simple sentence he whisked away all of your anxieties.

“Who do you think can kiss the most girls by the end of the year, you or me?”

It was history from there. He won by the way.

That memory was just a fading melody that echoed in the back of your mind from time to time. Your friendship had been through much more since then. From pointless fights to late night bonding. At some points the two of you spent so much time with each other that you couldn’t stand each other. Nonetheless you were like siblings in every sense of the word. You couldn’t live with him and you couldn’t live without him. You liked to think he felt the same about you.

As Angel unloaded the truck you were caught up staring up at a cloud that wasn’t moving. And no you weren’t bugging, the shit literally wasn’t moving. It was standing still amongst the other clouds, like a fixture.

“Imma pop out” you faintly heard behind you.

After a few more minutes you weren’t alone anymore.

“Like the view?”

You turned to the person who spoke. She smiled at you once you made eye contact.

“I uh” you turned back to the cloud before shaking your head and looking to the client “I apologize. Um yes its beautiful Ms. Haywood”

You took her soft hand in yours noting how firm her handshake was. She didn’t let you go as you you took a step down from the rock you’d been standing on.

“No need to apologize pretty lady” she quirked a smile at you “and Em is fine”.

You felt warm all over as her eyes trailed your movements. You looked to your hands surprised to see that they were still connected. You shyly pulled your hand back and flexed your fingers. They tingled — you already missed the warmth Em’s hand gave you.

“I better go help Angel”

“Dudes weird” she said with no real heat behind her words.

“Yeah but he’s my weirdo” You continued your walk towards Angel who was using the dolly to move the camera equipment inside the clients house. Mr. Haywood led the way.

“What’d you mean by that?” She asked stopping in her tracks.

You glanced behind you before eventually coming to a stop and turning fully towards her.

You took note of how she looked. She wore a pair of cut off jean shorts that showed off her legs. A bit of sweat was gathering at the collar of her Coyote top. You couldn’t help the feeling of fondness blossoming within you as you surveyed the sight before you. You had to bite your lip to stop yourself from blurting out something stupid. Like calling the stranger who was also a client cute.

“Im sorry?”

She chuckled to herself taking a few steps towards you. You stayed put, using your hand to shield your eyes from the sun. You thought you caught a glimpse of an object darting behind a cloud but Em’s voice brought you back down to earth.

“Is he your friend, boyfriend… life partner?”

It took you longer than you’d like to admit to catch her subtlety. It was so obvious now. Everything about her was calling out to you. Pulling you closer. You soon realized why she wanted to know the information so timely.

“Oh” you laughed nervously “he’s uh my friend”

“Just friends” she raised her eyebrows eyeing you from head to toe. The hot drag of her gaze down your body took your breath away. “that’s great news!”

“Why is that?” You coyly questioned, looking up at her from under your lashes.

“Because” she simply stated. Her knowing smile and charming eyes filled you with desire. Before you knew it she was turning away to walk to her truck.

“Because?” you called behind her not bothering to follow.

“Because I wanna be your friend too” she called back without turning around.

“Cryptic” you replied through a surprised laugh. She threw a peace sign behind her before hopping in the Haywood truck and driving away.

“Hey are you gonna keep flirting or help me with this?” Angel teased. His words didn’t deter you from longingly staring at the flying dust Em left behind.

“I wasn’t flirting” you retorted feeling your face heat up.

After installing the system Angel and Oj, who asked you to not call him Mr. Haywood, took to the grounds to adjust the cameras. You watched curiously from the computer room as the bright blue sky came into view. You hummed curiously wondering why Oj had you and your friend carry out the peculiar request.

There was that cloud again. In full view not moving an inch. You peered closer to the screen trying to see some form of movement. Anything to show that the cloud was real and you weren’t going crazy.

“Havin’ fun” you jumped out of your skin at the unexpected visitor. Whipping your head around a flutter of butterflies erupted in your belly as you seen the younger Haywood smiling at you.

“I uh sorry I was just making sure the cameras were set up correctly”

“Why are you apologizing” she chuckled stepping closer to you “it’s your job, no?”

“Uh yes it is my job” you scratched the back of your ear nervously turning back to the monitors. You heard her steps near you until she stood next to you.

“What’s up there?” You eventually asked turning to her. You were surprised to find her eyes already on you.

“Who knows” she finally ripped her gaze from you and to the monitors “but we gone find out”

You raised an eyebrow wondering if Angel wasn’t so crazy after all. What are the odds that these strangers are also looking up searching for more.

“Angel thinks you guys are in a ufo hot spot” you laughed but soon faltered when you realized she want joining in “holy shit are you guys?”

The younger Haywood laughed a bit before shrugging and looking back to the monitors. She squinted her eyes searching for something. You assumed she searched for what you were searching for.

You watched her. It was kind of hard not to. There was something about her. Something that piqued your interest. You wanted to bury your nose in her fluffy hair and inhale her scent. You wanted to kiss her soft neck and hear what sounds she made. You wanted to taste her lips. God did you want her lips. You drunk her in, staring at the long expansion of her neck when someone interrupted your fascinated stare.

“Hey it’s time to head out”

You turned to Angel who looked at you like he’d just caught you red handed. His teasing smile made your face heat up in embarrassment.

“Leaving already?” Em questioned turning back to you a frown on her face “that was quick”

You decided not to mention how it took about an hour to get everything set up. But she was gone for most of the set up so there was no real way she’d be able to know.

“She’ll take your number” Angel interjected, already grabbing your phone from your back pocket. He ignored your hushed protests and handed your device (unlocked) to Em who chuckled at the two of you. You resisted the urge to sink to the floor as she winked at you.

“Thank you Angel” she smiled to you as she handed the phone back to him “I’ll be in touch”

“Sounds good” you squeaked before grabbing your phone and scurrying to the waiting van. Once inside you exhaled finally getting a good look at the newly acquired contact.

Em Haywood ❤️🐎

“Those guys are kinda dicks” Angel said once he closed his car door “if they don’t give me a good review Al is gonna be on my ass”

“Hey I’ve been waiting in the car for like 30 minutes. What took so long? Also, since when do you care what our manager thinks?”

“They needed help setting up a decoy for horse training or some shit” he shrugged pulling out of the driveway “and I care about what Al thinks since he threatened to fire me if I got one more bad review”

“You just talk too much” you snickered teasing him.

“What am I supposed to do? Sit there in silence and work?”

“Uh yes?”

“At least I’m not like you. Trying to get laid on the job”

“I was not”

“Dude you were looking at her like you wanted to go down on her”

“Jesus Christ angel”

“What?” He laughed narrowly dodging your playful shoulder slap “if it makes you feel any better she looked at you the exact same way”

“Well that’s good to know” you sarcastically retorted “I don’t even think she’s gonna text-“

Ding!

Em Haywood ❤️🐎: ‘So when can I see your pretty self again?’

“Don’t tell me that’s the carpet muncher”

“Shut up” you landed your shoulder slap this time “are you even allowed to say that?”

“Hey!” he swerved a bit before straightening the van back up “also, yes my best friend is a lesbian I get a pass or two”

“She asked when can she see me again” you smiled down at your phone.

“Tell her tonight”

“No” you scoffed “I don’t wanna seem too desperate”

“But you are…” he raised an eyebrow to you.

“Look at the road dude” you sighed when he complied “I am ugh I don’t know”

“Just say tonight. It’s okay, she’s the one who text you first. Plus we left her house like 15 minutes ago. If anything it’s her that’s desperate”

“Okay okay okay” you worried your bottom lip as you hesitantly typed a reply.

You: ‘How about tonight?’

“If she thinks I’m a creep you’re dead”

“You’re awesome nobody will think you’re a creep” Angel promised.

Em Haywood ❤️🐎: ‘Sounds good. Come over to mine?’

You: ‘See you after 7?’

Em Haywood ❤️🐎: ‘See you then 🤩’

You stayed mostly silent the rest of the car ride; occasionally cracking a joke with Angel or singing along to a song on the radio. Truthfully, you were in a daze.

It was strange actually. How could a girl you’d met an hour ago and who you exchanged barley 10 words with have you so hung up and nervous. There was something different about this one. Or maybe you were becoming delusional like Angel and his ex.

“Dude you are the worst when you have a crush” your best friend teased as you pulled back into Fry’s Electronics “you’ve been giving googly eyes to your phone since she text you”

“Do you think her strap is big?”

“Okay this conversation is over” he waved you off ignoring your delighted laughter.

You cursed quietly to yourself as you pulled up to the Haywood ranch. So many things rushed through your head. Anxiety had you strung tight, how long would it be before you snapped? You had the right to be anxious after all. You were in the middle of nowhere meeting up with a stranger who was probably going to kill you. You barley even thought this through. Why do pretty girls render you useless?

What if she’s a bad person? She could have lured many unsuspecting girls here. With her undeniable charm and convincing smile, she could’ve convinced you to do anything.

What if she thinks you’re a bad person? Or worse, boring. You placed your hand on the gearshift contemplating putting the car in reverse and hightailing it out of there, never to return. The generic jingle of your ringtone snapped you from your thoughts.

“Hello?”

“Don’t do it” Angel said without even greeting you.

“What are you talking about?” You took your hand from the gearshift and leaned back in your chair.

“I know you and I know you’re thinking about not going in right now”

“How did you know that?”

“Because I know you!”

“I can’t do this Angel” you confessed “I’m too nervous I don’t wanna embarrass myself”

“See now that’s literally impossible. You’d embarrass yourself by not walking in that house.” He was right. You hated when he was right. “Just talk to her about movies, you love movies”

“I don’t wanna talk her ear off.”

“It’s a first date who cares?”

“Date?” You shrieked “this is not a date!”

“You’re so bad at this.”

“I can’t do this, nah” you mulled over your choices: you can either go in and embarrass yourself or leave and embarrass yourself “Nope.”

“You didn’t even give yourself a chance” he offered “give yourself a chance”

“But what if it goes wrong”

“Let’s make a deal in 15 minutes I’ll call you and give you an excuse to leave if it’s going good just stay! Simple”

“Simple…” you nodded “okay yeah sounds good I’ll just do that” you took your keys out of the ignition “15 minutes Angel.”

“15 minutes and I’ll E.T phone home you”

You stopped your movements “you know you can just say phone home I know what the reference is”

“Of course you do…” your friends voice dipped out. The lights in your car dimmed until you were shrouded in darkness. You whipped your head around as the hair on the back of your neck stood up. Something within you stirred, somehow you knew you weren’t safe in that moment. It felt almost like a centuries long instinct within you was rising up. Telling you to get out of there. You breathed out slowly searching for the newcomer, you were quickly realizing that you weren’t alone anymore. The warm glow from the house became more and more muted until darkness overtook the structure. The incessant low buzz of electricity was absent. The emptiness of the countryside made the ringing silence all the more noticeable.

You took a shaky breath as you gripped your keys, ignoring the sharp metal digging into your palms. The dirt beneath your feet sunk under your weight as you stepped out of your car and surveilled your surroundings. Nothing. Nothing but darkness.

After a beat the house began emitting a warm glow lighting the area enough for you to see Em standing on the porch.

You faintly felt the vibrations of your phone turning back on.

“I thought I heard somebody out here”

“The power went out?” You sauntered over to her taking in how cute she looked under the stars.

“Yeah it does that sometimes” she supplied before turning back to the house. You shook your head ridding your mind of the odd occurrence and stepped into the antique house behind Em. The two of you soon stood before a liquor cabinet “would you like a drink? I got bourbon, tequila, vodka…”

You eyed the wooden cabinet before you as Em grabbed a couple of glasses and ice.

“I don’t really drink” you hummed turning to the girl as she sat the glasses on the table.

“I got weed” she tried.

Your matched smiles led the two of you to standing in a random room upstairs listening to records with the window open.

She took a long drag before handing the joint to you. She eyed whatever it was outside of her window as you stared at a poster on her wall.

“That horse is just hard headed” she shook her head as she sucked her teeth “I just wanna know how that nigga got out”

“How many horses y’all got?”

“Shit I don’t know at this point. Oj dumbass stay selling my daddy’s horses”

Your gaze was kept on the poster showing a clip of their great great great grandfather on a horse. Em gave you the rundown of her family as she rolled the joint the two of you were smoking.

You were so distracted that you hadn’t realized your companion moving from the window to the space just behind you. You felt a comforting heat radiating from her body as she lightly pressed against the back of you. Her hand stretched past you and pointed to one of the frames.

“Allegedly this frame got fucked up, but they decided to keep it in” her breath brushed against your sensitive ears. She smelled like vanilla and cherries mixed with fresh wood and weed. You deeply inhaled letting her scent intoxicate you. You slowly turned around, words dying on your lips finding her closer than you expected. Her nose brushed against yours as her hands softly gripped your hips.

Her lips were as soft as they looked you realized once they covered yours. She breathed you in, pulling you closer than you were before. Your begging hands tangled in her fro as you repeated her movements and pulled her closer. Electricity surged down your body as she walked you back to the waiting bed. The two of you refused to pull away from each other as your back pressed against the cold plush linen. Your mouths continued moving against each other — soft wet tongues massaging the other. Her kiss was so passionate it felt as if she was stealing the oxygen from your body. But you weren’t complaining. She briefly pulled away, her chest heaving as she took you in.

“I’m sorry I just-“ she cut herself off pressing her mouth back against yours. Her skilled tongue slipped into your mouth once again, this time with more vigor. Your bodies pressed heatedly against each other as your heartbeats began drumming in tandem. You could taste her desperation you could feel her desperation as her hands began pulling your shirt up. Her warm hands lingered on your belly, she ran her finger tips across your warm skin. Butterflies fluttered in their wake. Her sensual touch dragged across your belly before moving up to your breast.

A melodic sound filtered through the air. It pulled you from the pleasure you were receiving but only for a second. Soon the sound was gone and you were plunged back into the promise land of bliss. She didn’t waste time going back to feeling every exposed part of you. Her hand slipped under your bralette. Warm fingers brushed against your nipples making them hard. A long awaited moan climbed up your throat. She smiled against your lips.

I smiled once again hearing your desperate moans fill the air. They sounded like music and I was prepared to listen to your song forever. You felt so right beneath me. Like you were meant to be there.

I couldn’t help myself from trailing my lips down to your waiting neck. Inhaling the sweet scent you gave me only made my panties grow wetter in anticipation. I resisted the urge to grind my hips down against yours. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t searching for some sort of relief. From the moment I saw you standing there staring off into the clouds I knew I had to be near you. I had to say something to you or I feared the moment would have passed me by.

My phone began ringing again. This time I groaned in frustration, pulling away from my honey suckle I put my phone to my ear.

“What?”

“There is a bug on camera 1”

“What?” I rolled my eyes as I realized what the peculiar tech guy meant “man I told you to stop watching our shit”

I stood up shooting an apologetic look to you. You only shook your head a bashful smile on your face. I watched as you sat up and straightened your shirt then you moved to fixing your hair. We’d only been kissing for 5 minutes and you already looked fucked out. I wanted to see how you’d look after I had my way with you. Showing you just how much I like you. Showing you how pretty you are to me.

“Yeah but camera two is out” he exclaimed nervously “like ancient fucking aliens out”

“Shit!” My heart dropped to my stomach as I sprinted out of the room only Oj on my mind.

You could only sit and watch as Em abruptly left the room phone in hand. You wanted to be angry but there was something in her voice that made an uneasy feeling stir in your body.

Staring out of the window you saw what looked like sand and dust falling from the sky… or being sucked up into it. No. That can’t be it.

You squinted your eyes trying to catch a better glimpse. Em’s vocie echoed from outside.

“OJ ITS IN THE CLOUDS” her urgency startled you “RUN OJ RUN!” She continued with renewed exclamation.

Fear circle your body as you watched Oj run away from something you couldn’t quite see. Whatever it was it was big. It was angry and it was trying to suck Oj up into the sky.

You stood frozen watching the scene before you play out. Surely you had to be hallucinating. Were you simply sleep deprived. Was the weed you smoked laced with a foreign substance?

You didn’t have the chance to puzzle together what you were seeing because you were soon blacking out.

“Shit is she okay?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know I ain’t a doctor” Em brushed some of your hair back “first fine girl I get back to the ranch and this bullshit”

“We need to wake her up somehow” Oj’s gruff voice vibrates your ears.

“I’m gonna go get some wet towels”

A sharp pain shot through your head. Bright light poured into your retinas making a pain you never felt before rush through your head.

“Em come back she’s waking up”

“I’m coming I’m coming”

You groaned watching as 3 Oj’s changed to 2 then eventually 1. Em soon came into view. She dabbed your forehead with a cold wet towel.

“You okay pretty girl?” She frowned continuing her actions.

“Angel” you muttered.

“That’s cute she thinks I’m an angel” Em cooed, her eyes growing soft as she felt her heart melt.

“Angel” you groaned again still struggling to regain consciousness. Your phone was vibrating off the hook. No doubt it was Angel calling to check on you.

“I think she talkin’ about Angel”

“Oh.”

You dragged your phone from your back pocket and wearily dragged your finger across the screen to accept his call.

“Oh my god you’re alive!”

“Did you get that on film?” You croaked eager to see if your friend had also witnessed the spectacle.

“No. There was a fucking praying mantis!” He replied.

“Fuck.”

[marsbotz]

good news for all my haters: im not coming back. not properly. i think social media and being around ppl in general is destroying me so im gonna just focus my energy on other stuff

ill probably still be a little bit active occassionally but for now i think il just stick to posting art etc. im moving to sheezy.art (which is down for maintenance rn but opens for registration again on fridays!) bc the energy there is much nicer for me.. but ill still post on here and insta. im also gonna be working on building my own website again!! so bookmark it and maybe some day itll have cool stuff on it.... :]

[sundrownsthehouse]

Can you read my mind? I've been watching you (Part I of III)

Find it here on AO3 (I much prefer the formatting there)

Pairing: Matty/George

Summary: Matty's bored. He decides to make it everyone's problem.

(AKA a fic about that unhinged video of Matty gagging on his own fingers.)

Words: ~2k

Rating: E

Matty was bored. 

Supremely, mind-numbingly bored. The kind of bored that had him antsy, doom scrolling through his socials, picking at his clothes, and bouncing his legs, unable to sit still— that had him searching for any kind of stimulation. It was the kind of bored that tended to drive him to irritate the fuck out of everyone else in his immediate vicinity. For all the years he’d spent touring the world, he had never quite figured out how to pass the time during a flight if he wasn’t throwing back Ativan like tic tiacs. 

Those were the days, he thought grimly. 

Shifting uncomfortably in the reclined leather seat, Matty craned his neck to peek at the others. From the dim glow of the track lights running down the center aisle of the plane he could just make out their sleeping forms bundled in thin, threadbare blankets. They’d been going non-stop, and their schedule was so tight that the red-eye was probably the only opportunity any of them would have to get some rest before they were whisked off to the next show. Luckily, Jamie had managed to book a long-hauler equipped with sleeper seats, not that it was doing Matty any good. He eyed Adam snoring peacefully into his pillow across the aisle with envy; if fucking only. Checking the time on his phone he sighed aloud, running a hand down his face. They had hours to go before they landed in Honolulu, and Matty simply could. Not. Sit. Still. 

He was on edge, and truthfully, rather miffed. George had rejected every advance he’d made in the last 48 hours, and it was driving him to distraction. 

This thing they had between them was still new, still undefined, but God, if it wasn’t all Matty could think about. It had started out innocently enough— a clumsy, tequila-induced fumble after a show a few weeks back— but from there quickly spiraled into the two of them sneaking around, unable to stop themselves from crashing into each other over and over (and over) again. Sex with George was unlike anything he’d ever experienced before. There was something profound about it, something deeply intimate and dirty and right and— 

Matty exhaled shakily, vision softening as his mind wandered back to the hotel room in Chicago. The tactile memory of George’s massive hands all over his body— gripping his hair, stroking his sweat-slick skin, squeezing his cock— evoked a sharp flash of desire that surged through his chest and settled low in his groin. He bit the inside of his cheek remembering the way George had fucked him into the mattress, thrusting so deep inside him that he’d seen stars as tears of pleasure pricked at the corners of his eyes.

So he was a little infatuated; sue him. He couldn’t help it if now that he’d had a taste, he could never get enough. And as far as Matty was concerned, they had decades of catching up to do.

George was cautious; he didn’t want anyone to know just yet, and went to great lengths to cover their tracks, intent on remaining inconspicuous. Whatever this development in their relationship was, it would surely have an effect on the band. On the music. Maybe. They weren’t quite sure what it all meant yet, so he didn’t want to broach the subject with the others unless they had to— and that was just the kind of reasonable, level-headed logic that Matty couldn’t be arsed with. 

A small movement from the corner of Matty’s eye caught his attention. Two rows down and across the aisle, one of the blanketed heaps— the largest— shifted and turned on its side, searching in vain for a more comfortable position.

He really couldn’t help himself.

M: you up? 

Nestled back in his seat, he watched the blue light of George’s phone silently illuminate the ceiling of the plane. The reply came immediately:

G: no

Matty smirked. George was protective of his sleep, and a mardy fucker if you dared disturb him, but that was a chance he was willing to take— damn the consequences. He took another cursory glance around the cabin.

M: meet me in the bathroom?  G: why would i meet you in the bathroom?  M: everyone’s asleep…

Matty popped his head into the aisle to spy George sitting up, blanket shrugged off his chest, his fingers flying across the screen. 

G: you’re joking M: not G: are you mental?? M: obviously ;)

He thought he could make out the faint sound of George snorting over the steady thrum of the plane, but he couldn’t be sure. His phone vibrated. 

G: thanks but no thanks love x

Matty frowned. 

Not here. Not now. That was all George had to say to him for the last two days. They were booked tight with back-to-back shows, and when they weren’t traveling or performing they were inundated with endless press, leaving precious little downtime— which would’ve been just fine had George been capable of keeping his hands to himself.

Whether it was an innocently placed hand on the small of his back, an arm slung around his neck, or a teasing brush against the curve of his arse, George took every opportunity to rile Matty up, smirking with satisfaction whenever he managed to make him stutter or lose his train of thought. They’d always been physically affectionate, but it was undeniably different now; there was something like ownership in George’s touch, and it made Matty shiver. Not to mention the way that George looked at him when he thought no one would notice. Matty’s knees went weak each time he caught George’s heated gaze raking lazily over his body from across the room. He looked at Matty as though he were something indecent.

The unspoken tension between them had grown so unbearable that on more than one occasion, Matty had dragged him toward an empty closet or dressing room out of sheer desperation, only to be met with the same measured response:

Not here. Not now. Be patient.

Matty was sick of being patient. He wanted George to shove him up against the wall of the dodgy airplane bathroom already and fuck him until he couldn’t see straight. Dignity be damned. 

The drive to the airport was the final straw. In the dark back seat of the Sprinter Matty held his breath in silent shock as George’s hand crept up his inner thigh to slowly massage his cock through his jeans, like a horny fucking teenager. He had to bite his tongue (literally) to keep from making some horribly pathetic sound whilst George carried on a full conversation with Adam and Ross, the passing street lights illuminating the small smile ghosting his lips. It was torture. George was playing with him, seemed to be doing everything in his power to make Matty’s life hell, and to top it all off, he was enjoying it. 

For all his kumbaya, inner peace, yoga-loving-meditation bullshit, George was a control freak. It was in the way he would obsess over a piece of music until it was perfect, bending pitch and beat and melody to his whim until it pleased him. It was the subtle change in his demeanor when he was behind the kit in a live show, driving the pace of the entire performance, knowing that the fate of it all rests with him. And it was never more obvious than when they were tangled together, their bodies flushed with exertion as they gave in to twenty-odd years of repressed desire. George was sweet, kind, and deeply tender; he was also impatient, possessive, and exacting. He hid it well, but beneath his placid smile and gentle bearing, there was a quiet hunger in George that demanded to be fed. Matty found himself utterly intoxicated by the contradiction of it.

Though Matty reckoned that he at least gave as good as he got; figuring out how to provoke George had very recently become his latest obsession. Maybe it stemmed from the boyish competitiveness of their school years, some childhood dynamic they never really outgrew as men. In any case, knowing how to turn George on was its own kind of power. Besides, he’d never been too proud to beg.

M: please. need you. M: i’m desperate ok? M: i’ll be so quiet, no one will know   M: pleasepleaseplease

A minute passed. No response. 

Dejected, Matty peeked down the aisle and nearly jumped out of his skin. George was staring back at him, his expression carefully composed, dark eyes glittering with an unspoken warning in the low light. He merely shook his head once, subtly, but the message was loud and clear. No.

Gritting his teeth, Matty flung himself back in his seat like a petulant child. He checked the time again, running through the math in his head; they still had six hours to go before they landed in Hawaii. He was going to lose his mind on this aluminum death trap hurdling through the sky, and he was going to make it everyone’s problem.

With that thought a ridiculous idea crossed his mind. It was impulsive, completely outrageous, even for him— and that really was saying something— but the more Matty considered it, the more amusing it became. It was a little out of pocket, sure, but then again, that was sort of his brand these days, wasn’t it? He lifted his phone, opened his front-facing camera, and pressed record.

Peering at the screen, he reckoned that he didn’t look half-bad. Clearly tired and a little ragged, but in a sexy, disheveled sort of way. His hair was a nightmare, and he briefly tried to fix it before accepting that it was probably futile, giving up entirely. That wasn’t the point, anyway. Staring down the lens with heavy, hooded eyes, Matty let his mouth fall open gently as he brought his fingers to his lips, embracing the thrill of arousal that snaked up his spine from the boldness of what he was about to do. 

Before he could talk himself out of it he opened wider, guiding three of his fingers back, back, back until they filled his mouth to the middle knuckle, forcing him to breathe through his nose. He pressed down on his tongue ever so slightly, reveling in the feeling— it was probably the cigarettes, but he’d always had a bit of an oral fixation. The fullness made him think about George’s cock, thick and heavy, stretching him to his limit because George was big, and fuck if Matty didn’t love the way he made his jaw ache. He shuddered, eyes rolling back as he lost himself to the image of George standing over him, a tight fist in his hair, groaning at the silky heat of Matty’s mouth. Spurred on by the fantasy, Matty shoved his hand further until his eyes began to water, brow furrowing at the intrusion. 

When the tip of his middle finger brushed the back of his throat he gagged harshly, jerking in his seat; the sudden movement made him groan. He didn’t particularly care if anyone could hear it.

Chest heaving from the effort, Matty removed his wet fingers from mouth, saliva dragging across his chin. He stopped the video. Watched it back. Turned the sound off and added some heavy track with a slamming beat and a grungy guitar.

And hit post.

The plane shook as it passed through an air pocket. Matty gripped the armrests of his seat, uneasy, his heart hammering in his chest. It had little to do with the turbulence.

In the moment, the video seemed like a good idea; now, he wasn’t so sure. Could he get canceled for this? He wanted to scoff at the thought, but a tiny seed of doubt had taken hold in the back of his mind as the notifications continued to roll in at a relentless pace. Most of them were inconsequential. Only one actually mattered.

Seen by bedforddanes75

[kaidanalenkosprmanager]

THE BEST OF PRIORITY: TUCHANKA (PART 2)

Featuring: Cmdr. Sophie Shepard, Lt. James Vega, EDI, Urdnot Wrex, and Dr. Mordin Solus With: Urdnot Bakara And a Special Guest Appearance by: Kalros, Mother of All Thresher Maws I MADE A MISTAKE! I made a mistake... big picture made of little pictures- too many variables. Can't hide behind statistics... can't ignore new data- my responsibility. Need to go- running out of time. Not your work, not your cure- not your decision. Had to be me- someone else might have gotten it wrong... Mass Effect 3: Legendary Edition (2021)

[analyzingadventure]

You know I actually never realized this before-- so you remember how tri. retconned Original Chosen fighting and defeating Apocalymon into them fighting the Dark Masters instead? (To be fair it is possible they could've ALSO fought Apocalymon afterwards but that isn't the Epic Final Showdown tri. decided to depict so it's borderline a retcon)

If the Original 5 Chosen fought and defeated the Dark Masters once in the distant past, doesn't that mean that

A) They survived and hid for just a few thousand years until they came back for a Round 2 at conquering the world

B) They died, were reborn, and THEN went for the Round 2

You know I've just DYING with curiosity, desperately wanting to know if any of the villians in Adventure would ever be reborn after Adventure, right. Because according to the lore they should, right (unless their data was like somehow absorbed by Apocalymon and destroyed along with him (though that would still leave Piemon as an exception (and Vamdemon but we all know what happened to him) and the sole survivor))

And what tri. has essentially done is confirm that most of them should, in fact, be reborn sooner or later

But that just raises the question of if Apocalymon was lowkey driving the Dark Masters nuts (as suggested by the novels), and if tri. was kind of about destroying the last remnants of Apocalymon's data (within Meicoomon), if they were reborn this time would they be free of Apocalymon's influence

If so, would their third (?) lives then turn out different? Would they still try to take over the world all over again for funsies (this time just without Apocalymon giving them power etc), or were they just the same as Ken was in Zero Two? I mean Apocalymon was supposed to be a spawn of Milleniummon and Ken was infected with Mille's malice directly, so while it may have been a bit filtered it was still the same source of malice and corruption, right

And like regardless of how their next lives would turn out, shouldn't the kids (OR AT THE VERY FUCKING LEAST GENNAI) like realize that this is going to happen eventually and like. Go and see if they can find them (either as their pre-Ultimate forms or even when they're still in their Eggs) and try to figure out what to do BEFORE shit hits the fan

I JUST

[modularvisuals]

Art for Chrissy and Eddie’s Infinite Mixtape written by @little-scribblers-heart

[tianhai03]

GUYS ASJHGDHJKASJDK LOOK C COLORED ONE OF MY DUMB DOODLES FROM TWITTER AGAIN WHERE I FORCED DANTE TO HAVE A SHOWER I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

(again, the line art is done by me while C colored over my art!)

[charcubed]

I keep seeing posts that are like "interpretations of bi!Dean and gay!Dean are equally valid!" and I used to be like, sure, straight!Dean is definitely wrong but beyond that, see him how you want, who cares.

But now (esp after the Last Call script) I just don't understand the gay!Dean truthers? I follow quite a few on sm, and when I initially followed them I was like "they accept Dean is queer, that's good enough for me." But now they're really starting to get to me and it's not really worth arguing about to them, but I wanted to rant to you about it, cuz you get it.

The script literally included "gorgeous women" in the bar. Dean has canonically been sexually AND romantically attracted to women. He's based off THEE bisexual Neal Cassady.

Like I'm not really trying to defend m/w relationships (lol) but why do even queer ppl insist on erasing his identity when it's so clear? Why do they have to take that away?

Gay!Dean in AUs is one thing, but in the actual, textual canon of the show, Dean is bi. And no, gay!Dean and bi!Dean are NOT equally valid interpretations. And I don't think I'm an asshole for saying that 🤷🏼‍♀️

Sorry it took a few days to get to this. Work and life have kept me busy and tired!

Unironically and non-sarcastically, Anon, I'm glad you've seen the light and seem to understand this topic more now. You are, of course, entirely correct. And you're not an asshole for saying it either.

I'm going to take this opportunity to answer your (potentially rhetorical) questions, and also bounce off of you and lay some stuff out about this topic in general at length for the first time–despite the fact that it may turn me into public enemy #1 again. I am already hated for non-combatively voicing these facts on Twitter (this thread tends to be considered one of the "ground zeroes" of the nonexistent "debate" lol), but I have avoided being dog-piled on Tumblr so far, so... fingers crossed I can miraculously keep it that way!

My hope is that anyone who is predisposed to taking this topic very personally just moves on instead of attacking me (or subposting me?) for any of what I'm about to say. I'm also not forcing anyone to read this, before anyone's like "that's way too many words" or "it's not that serious lol."

I do think this topic is important. I've made the decision to publicly spell out why. And if anyone doesn't want to read it, that's their prerogative.

To your questions, Anon:

I think a lot of this comes down to a fandom-wide problem (all fandoms recently, not just SPN) of not understanding the difference between headcanon and canon, the dimensions as to why that distinction does have its uses and its necessity, and the value in both. I'll get into this later.

But in this fandom specifically, based on observation and lengthy conversations I've had with a dozen long-time fans who are my friends... I personally think it's maybe a new dimension of viewpoint that's branched out from a holdover of "all interpretations are valid" being the party line people have clung to a very long time. (That’s also true in other fandoms, but I think it’s especially true here.) It's a form of solace people don't want to deviate from. No one wants to be seen as or feel like the ~jerk~ who's ~invalidating another person's view of canon~ in response to someone else's knee-jerk reaction of hurt. This is a fandom with early-2000s cultural baggage and context, where people dealt with feeling like the "crazy fangirls" who shipped Destiel and dared to call out queer subtext. Misha's "You're not crazy" tweet exists for a reason. I do feel like a lot of well-meaning people–aside from misunderstanding or being ignorant to the analytical roots of this topic and why they absolutely matter–just know what it feels like to have their thoughts on queer content in a show feel "invalidated," and they don't want to be perceived as doing that to other people. And/or: they’ve felt invalidated before (in this fandom or others!), and so they’re hypersensitive to anything they perceive as doing that to them again, especially if they tied personal identity into the projections they’re making onto the media they enjoy.

I understand that people don’t want to seem ~mean~ or make waves. I also don't want to seem mean or be mean, which is why I try to be as clear as possible whenever I talk about this and I never go after people directly (or interact/reference any of the many subtweets from people who openly talk shit about me. haha). But the facts shouldn't be seen as "mean"; they are simply facts. And yes, they absolutely matter.

Because the thing is... none of the above has any bearing on the nuances of the topic at hand, the indisputable fact that Dean is bisexual in canon and that claiming otherwise is erasure, and the truth that none of this should be seen as a threat to people's headcanons. 

These are all things that people should understand, and I will not apologize for knowing that and saying it. Misunderstanding this–making the false claim that “all interpretations of Dean’s sexually are equally valid as long as you see him as queer”–is an act of bisexual erasure in this context, and it often (unintentionally!) plays into biphobic talking points. And yeah, in my opinion, that’s something people should care about because it’s worthy of both personal and fandom examination. It is, in fact, why “representation” matters at all.

Let’s not kid ourselves: the bulk of this fandom-wide discourse is about Bi Dean vs Gay Dean. So, y’know, that’s the bulk of how I’m going to address it to just get it all out there.

Right out the gate, let me clarify this: I am not saying–now or ever–that those who are self-proclaimed “Gay Dean truthers” or argue that “Dean being gay in canon is a valid interpretation” are deliberately coming from a place of malice and the intent to contribute to bisexual erasure. By all means, I’m sure most aren’t! Nonetheless, intent does not equal impact. I’ve even seen people say “I’m a Gay Dean truther and I’m bisexual, so how could I possibly be contributing to bi erasure by arguing for Gay Dean?”  But in this situation–as in any other–no one is immune from unwittingly perpetuating harm, even including bi people. And it’s important to understand why that is.

“Interpretations” are not opinions, not all are equal, and they do require some level of skill. This is not a personal attack, or a moral judgement on anyone, or somehow a threat to people’s enjoyment of a favorite character. It is just fact.

Gay Dean is not a valid possibility in canon. There is no lens that justifies an argument of it with canonical basis. I have to break down why, in order to sufficiently express why claiming otherwise is a harmful position to take, so bear with me.

(No, this is not an invitation for a Gay Dean truther to treat this like a “debate” with me or waste time writing out a counterargument. Please just exit the tab if you’re somehow here battling that urge.)

For someone to say that Dean is gay in canon, here is an incomplete list of what has to be erased, ignored, or explained away:

• His sexual attraction to, romantic love for, and relationship with Cassie.

• His sexual attraction to, romantic love for, and relationship with Lisa (whether or not one thinks she was ever the ~ultimate love of his life~, attraction and love were present.)

• His stash of and enjoyment of porn that includes women, which is referenced many times.

• The moments where he was seduced by a female-presenting monster.

• Each and every time he made a reference to or joke about his attraction to women.

• Any fling he ever had with a woman on screen, and the enjoyment he had in the process.

The man is canonically sexually and romantically attracted to women, and he has acted upon that and even enjoys that about himself in wildly diverse contexts. It is a blatant part of the text of the show. (The fact that we are at the point where this is somehow a main point of contention rather than his attraction to men does make me feel a tiny bit insane, to be honest.)

Now, in my experience (which I don’t claim is comprehensive!), the people who argue for Gay Dean tend to explain ALL of this away under some form of universal umbrella of Dean being “performative,” a variation on compulsive heterosexuality they ascribe to him. The claim or explanation tends to be that Dean was performing a mostly-faked attraction to women based on his father’s expectations and outward pressures he received in the culture of his life. Moments are often cherry-picked out of context to support this “reading.” 

Who is Dean supposedly performing FOR, even in the moments where he acts on his attraction to women when he is alone? How does this explain his significant relationships with women like Cassie and/or the legitimate visible enjoyments he received from those interactions, as well as his flings with women throughout the show? How does this explain things like the Last Call script, where Dean is very clearly written as attracted to “gorgeous women,” a factoid that is not only very clear on screen but also (of course) written in literal black and white?

(There are no sufficient answers to these rhetorical questions. Once again: please do not waste time trying to give me any.)

And what evidence are Gay Dean people using for comphet or performative Dean? The “evidence” is often a misread of canon, pointing towards the consistent theme and false goal presented in the text of the show of characters’ efforts to strive for an “apple pie life,” aka a heteronormative ideal family. Gay Dean people misrepresent what this theme and through-line in the show is actually about, which is the totality of learning to accept your life rather than striving for something ill-fitting, that what you need and want need not be mutually exclusive (family life including fulfilling romance + hunting life can coexist), family is what you make of it and how you define it, and there are no true limitations on what all of this “should” be. While these themes are inherently queer, they are not about narrow performances of masculinity, femininity, or sexual identity, but about making space for ALL forms of all of the above–AND about identifying what it is that one wants and thinks they can’t have.

Namely, for Dean, that’s a version of settling down in a life that fulfills him in every direction, with an open and honest mutual relationship with the person he is in love with. This latter point would be true whether Cas was a man or a woman (though the fact that he is a man of course adds further dimension of interest to the story). Dean doesn’t think he can have a romantic relationship / family that lasts, and by later seasons that yearning is a key part of his character. The times it didn’t work out for him weren’t because those other people were women, but rather because the “lesson” he internalized from traumatic instances of loss is that hunters don’t get to do ~the love thing~ or get the settled down life. This is stated in the text of the show multiple times, and that’s also why Dean seeing examples of hunters who made any kind of balanced life work (especially masculine queer hunters like Jesse and Cesar) is pointed and purposeful. To say it’s about comphet instead (with no sufficient canon evidence that supports that) disregards a key point that’s central to Supernatural’s story, and in my opinion it disregards it to its detriment.

For Dean’s journey in particular, it is about freedom from limitations of structure, and knowing that he contains multitudes. The things he got from John–loving classic rock and loving his car, for example–are no less core joyful parts of Dean simply because they originated from his father. Dean can love classic rock and still occasionally love a Taylor Swift song, for example. He can love cowboy movies and manly movies, and also enjoy chick-flicks. It’s the idea of learning that there are no limitations, not that masculine interests are not inherently something he loves for himself or that aren’t important parts of his identity. It’s an expansion to openly include more, not a switch or a narrowing. The same applies to his sexual attraction and his queer identity. He can be attracted to cowboys and bikers, and also be attracted to gorgeous women. Him being attracted to / loving women does not mean he cannot and does not feel attraction and love for men; likewise, him being in love with a man does not mean he wasn’t and isn’t attracted to women. 

(“Last Call,” as an episode, exists in part to drive the totality of these points home, and emphasize that Dean’s attraction to men is something he’s known about himself for most of his life and acted on previously. So is most of the queercoding and queer subtext applied to Dean–which is specifically coding him as bisexual. His attraction to men is sometimes established or made clear because it echoes his attraction to women, etc. etc. Dean’s canonical attraction to men is a whole other post.)

So here we come to why saying otherwise and trying to shoehorn a comphet narrative onto Dean in canon is harmful:

Aside from the fact that to claim Dean’s joyful attraction to women is performative is to cut out chunks of the story and is thus not supported by canon, and it relies on making assumptions about and projecting onto the text… unintentionally or not, the implication is that bisexuality is not queer enough, or that being gay is somehow “queerer” and thus more compelling and a preferred concept, and that attraction to different genders is a heterosexual / straight trait requiring removal. No one is queering a text in a more revolutionary way or unlocking a ~secret good Supernatural~ by making a bisexual man into a gay man. That’s simply not how this works.

“Preferring” an argument for Gay Dean in canon requires explaining away or misreading all of those moments Dean has with women, essentially replacing them with trauma or suffering or discomfort that–in my observations–also sometimes rely on stereotypes of gay men. It also involves potentially preferring to twist them into behaviors Dean must have universally put himself through not out of genuine joyful desire but at minimum because he felt like he “should” or at maximum in an attempt to “fix” his “gayness,” even when no one was watching. And it points to the pressures Dean experienced about living a life that fit him fully–pressures that exist not just in his world, but also in our patriarchal world and society–and it implies that queer people can’t authentically experience attraction or love to someone of a different gender, because maybe they’re actually just “performing” the heteronormative ideal. As in: a “visually queer” relationship is the end goal, right? For Dean, that’s an m/m relationship... so surely m/f matters less, or maybe it can’t be a genuine and significant part of a queer person’s life.

Once again: I do not think any of this is intentional on the part of Gay Dean truthers, nor do I think it’s done with malice. Nonetheless, these harmful biphobic viewpoints permeate these conversations and misconceptions when people say these arguments are valid.

There is no canonical basis for explaining away all of Dean’s moments with women, and the story does not provide or point to any kind of cohesive narrative reason to do so. YES, people absolutely experience comphet in real life, and those experiences are valid and exist. YES, real gay men can and do sleep with or have nuanced romantic relationships with women before realizing they’re gay later in life. No, that does not mean that’s how analysis of a fictional character in a fictional story always works, especially in regards to a story built over time like Supernatural’s unique approach and the way it was molded to place queerness and specifically bisexuality at the core of Dean’s story.

Ascribing comphet to Dean in canon–or making any other insufficient justification for explaining away his attraction to women–is personal projection. And yes, it is bisexual erasure.

This is not a position fueled by personal hurt for me, as I would say the same here whether or not I was personally bisexual. It is an acknowledgement that these conversations don’t exist in a vacuum, and that’s something everyone should care to understand. I know what comphet storylines look like in fiction, and I know they are worth defining as such, and in other fandoms I even defend that very loudly. This is not the case here, and to say it is requires mental acrobatics that are objectively unsupported by canon... and invariably insisting otherwise perpetuates one of these harmful biphobic viewpoints whether or not one realizes it.

To say Gay Dean is a legitimate read of canon–which it is not–supports people who are erasing his varied sexual and romantic attraction to a different gender simply because they’ve decided they want to ignore that. “I like the idea of Dean being gay” does not mean that he is gay in canon, and writing meta to that end is a problem. It’s not an invalidation of someone on a personal level or some weird variation of homophobia to say that, and I do think people should maybe examine why they seemingly like the idea of him being gay more than him being bi, or why they staunchly defend it (or any other “different queer reading”) as a possibility. 

I understand there may be the urge to be like “is it that serious” or “this is just a CW show,” but to that I would say… then why are we all here?

Clearly, most people do still care about queer representation on some level and understand that queer subtext is present and acknowledge that Dean isn’t straight... hence the origin of this new prevalent concept of “as long as you say Dean’s queer then it’s fine.”

But in any piece of media, the text is the text is the text. The text can also be compelling, and fascinating, and contain value whether or not it’s an exact reflection of you personally as a fan and as a person. Sometimes there is arguably even greater value in being able to find reasons to relate to the humanity of a character or in a story even though elements differ from who you are personally. It is an exercise in empathy, and it is a pillar of why humans tells stories to each other to expand our viewpoints, and it sometimes results in examining the sources of that empathy. It’s why “representation matters”: not just so we can see ourselves, but so we can see others, and find reason to empathize despite differences. There’s unquantifiable power in that, and it’s also why the diversity of queer experiences and identities should be championed and acknowledged both in fiction and in reality, not turned into a monolith. Our solidarity amongst our individual queer differences and identities is our truest version of strength and authenticity. We are not all exactly the same, and that’s a good thing. When care is taken to specifically convey that in fiction, it is worth not only acknowledgement but also defense.

So: do we or do we not care about why representation is important, and why these sorts of conversations should exist at all? About censorship of queer storylines, and diversity in the queer community, and solidarity in differences? About bisexual men, a vastly underrepresented group in fiction, and the specific censorship that affected Dean’s bi story accordingly? And about how these viewpoints people can place onto fiction through fandom-wide conversation–like implying Dean is ~queerer~ if you say he’s gay, or that you’re somehow sticking it to the CW and “straight culture” if you suggest he’s gay–can influence biphobia that translates into ways people see bi people in real life?

In other situations even in this fandom, people understand the value of diverse queer experiences. No one would dare to say that “you can argue Charlie is bisexual in canon because as long as you say she’s queer it’s fine.” Charlie is a lesbian. It’s very, very clear, and she shows and states that she is only attracted to women. Dean’s attraction to women in canon is equally clear, and is part of his bisexuality. Why is erasing that defendable?

Look: it is people’s God-given right to write whatever fic they want about “what if” variations of Dean’s sexuality through a different lens. It is not their God-given right to make things up about canon and call it analysis.

It is a universal truth that fandom is always going to take canon and mold it into other versions that they love, for their own personal reasons and in ways that have value to them. That’s why transformative works like fic exist, and it’s why fandom is awesome, and I’m glad people use aspects of their favorite stories to tell other inspired stories that are of personal significance to them. But the word transformative is used for a reason: it’s an alteration of canon. It’s not a bad thing or a personal attack on people to say that.

There is a difference between understanding canon and writing actual meta / analysis of the show, and writing AUs for ones own enjoyment and fulfillment. (This is true on AO3 or on Tumblr/Twitter. I often see posts that are positioned as “meta,” but again, are just cherry-picked weirdness.) These differences are important, as is understanding how headcanons and fic affect surrounding conversations and fandom perceptions. And this fandom seems to have a very big problem with understanding the difference between these things, while taking it extremely personally in a negative way when people try to explain why the difference matters.

Confusing analysis and transformative fandom does a disservice to both, and denying the value in the former is not only a form of anti-intellectualism but also removes some of the beauty in the latter. If we can’t distinguish and differentiate between canon and headcanon, we can’t discuss the value in understanding the canon, nor adequately discuss the artistic value and power in creating derivative variations from it in personal ways. Both are different, both are equal, both are vital, and insisting the distinction is needless hampers conversation across every space. And nowhere is that more true than when one is discussing queer representation and queer censorship, like in the case of Supernatural. Again, why are we here? Why do we care? You cannot argue for and discuss the problems of censorship sufficiently if you don’t understand what was censored–and in Dean’s case, that was his love for Cas and his bisexuality.

I leave you with this (probably unneeded) analogy:

Imagine Dean’s a zebra.

(Sorry, EDS community; not that kind of zebra.)

People are trying to say “Dean is a black and white hoofed mammal <3″ and well, that’s accurate, but that doesn’t mean him being a zebra isn’t its own unique thing. A whole bunch of people are looking at him though and saying “well I prefer to say that Dean’s a black and white horse,” because they like that viewpoint better. Close enough, right? A black and white horse is basically a zebra, right? And then there’s the people who are like “I think Dean’s a cow!” and it’s like, okay, no idea where you came from, but whatever.

The point is that those are all entirely different fucking things. They’re different animals. Someone wanting Dean to be a black and white horse doesn’t make him less of a zebra. Pretending otherwise is absolute nonsense.

This debate/discussion/discourse is equally nonsensical. That is the logic (or illogic) that applies here.

Just because Dean is “queer” doesn’t mean any queer categorization underneath that umbrella suddenly equally applies.

Dean is bisexual. And he is “queer” because he’s bisexual.

Those are the facts. 

And for the love of God, please... I really don’t think I’m an asshole for saying it.

So, to whoever made it this far: please do me the courtesy of not hating me for it or trying to bait me into a fight. 

I’m tired. Thanks.

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EDIT: Couple of good additions!

•  @doctorprofessorsong added some good details about how some of these harmful biphobic concepts translate to real life, and real things that bi people struggle with.

• A lesbian anonymously sent in her perspective as someone who enjoys gay Dean headcanons/fic and agrees with this post, and agrees that the fact that Dean is bi in canon is important.

[divinekangaroo]

the melting point of gold - pettiot - Peaky Blinders (TV) [Archive of Our Own]

Ch 1 / ?

Between S6-E3 and S6-E4. The 36 hours between Ruby’s death and Ruby’s funeral.

Women are decorative. Men must be functional. This is a very special kind of lie.

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Inspired in part by @deadendtracks meta on Lizzie and Tommy around Ruby’s death.

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Tommy Shelby/Lizzie Stark, Tommy Shelby & Ruby Shelby, Charles Shelby, Charlie Strong, Frances, Oswald Mosley, Johnny Dogs, Esmerelda Gold, Adam (House of Commons Secretary) | Grief, Resisting Despair, Intrusive Thoughts, Intrusive Memories, Angst, Dysfunctional Family, Complicated Relationships, Anger Issues, Backstory, Gender Role Issues, Tommy’s Complicated Relationship with his Ethnicity, Unnamed Mental Illness, Manic Tommy, Sleep Deprivation, Mild Anachronism, Abortion, Child Abuse, Drug Addiction, Friendship, Extended Family, Funerals in a time of Infectious Disease, the Lasting Legacy of Catholicism, Tommy’s Metacognition Breaking Down, Ethnic Slurs, Sex, Lack of Communication, Hallucinations or Waking Dreams, Too Many Flashbacks