#reference from that one pic of Sam

[yume-mada]

🐺

[runtheduels]

some doodles

[furiouskettle]

random Look Outside character headcanons/opinions

(may be incorrect cause ive just been watching playthroughs. going off of the info i got from that which may be missing some parts.)

body horror talk, spoilers from all over the game and ending under the cut.

Sam

I love sam. hes just nice (potentially a pushover) and a dork. HES JUST A GUY!!!! i love that the game gives him time to show you how he’s processing his/your actions?

Really funny to me that him being unemployed is part of the reason he’s the protagonist. Can’t become a monster if you don’t have to go outside.

Am curious why he isn't working at the grocery store (if he did work there). did he leave or get fired?

OW losing an arm has GOTTA HURT. i cast pain upon this man.

his hair is just Like That no matter what he does

Joel

mY SWEET BABY BOYYYY i want to see him grow up big and strong (not too big and strong considering the everything but you get the idea).

looks like he has some form of "vision" post-mutation?? he doesnt seem to have any issue playing video games so i opt that he can “see”, just not very well. it’s short range and fuzzy. might be more of a feeling of his surroundings than real vision? whatever it is, it's good enough to play super jump lad.

I also HC that he’d developed shortsightedness when he had eyes, just that nobody had noticed yet that he’s squinting at things more than he should…

I think his biting/devouring is involuntary when he’s agitated. thankfully it hasn’t come to him biting any friends so far!

get this boy some popsicle sticks to gnaw on. not even for tooth reasons. eight year olds just love chewing on popsicle sticks. (preferably after popsicle has been consumed)

Apart from not fully understanding everything going on due to his age, he seems a bit dazed from the mutation and probably has brain fog for a few days after, which is Definitely not helping sam with the Oh My God this kid doesnt know his parents are dead. OH GOD I KILLED THIS KID'S PARENTS AND I HAVE STOLEN HIM AWAY

oddly chill with losing teeth. has taken some of his baby teeth out by himself! gives joel my childhood trait of oh hey my tooth is wobbling! lemme get rid of that real quick. twist twist twist

Jeanne

i dont have much to say on her atm but she’s lovely and really doesnt deserve what happens to her. on the bright side the worst seems to be over for her?? if she’s still growing does that mean that she’s gonna have to be like “oop a new head’s budding. gotta get someone to lop that off for me before it becomes a problem.”

Lyle

FIRST OF ALL i LOVE how his design kind of references how old cameras had to be covered with fabric so the photo wouldn't fail.

i think he wore glasses when he was human! …the lenses got absorbed into his face. the camera he was holding did too. I think he didn’t own as many cameras as he ended up with. That big one he has seems specific enough that maybe that was the one he was using to snap a sky pic??? idk if he touched any other cameras after that but THAT one has gotta be the one he was holding.

idk if he finds spiders GROSS but he is definitely the kind of person to be afraid to be in the same room as one.

I think most of his legs are telescopic to some degree! he just doesnt see the need to make himself any taller than he already is, except for photography reasons.

reiterating from one of my doodle posts, i like to think his eye lenses shed over time. if you took off the lens early on an eye (via injury) it would have weak vision. built-in glasses!

I hope the soul photo thing is like a special attack thing for him that he has to set up intentionally? it feels mean to have all the photos he takes with his built in cameras be the soul-stealing kind. he does take photos by accident/involuntarily a lot but the one he takes after the kiss with sam is totally on purpose and he absolutely still has that one. concerning.

idk if he gets out of his apartment much during the Visit, but it could be that HE hasnt seen any mutations worse than his/doesnt know that sam has totally seen worse. Hence why he's trying to hide so hard from Sam (not to mention the guy is crushing HARD, he's not gonna wanna be vulnerable in front of him).

....also hideous monster or not hes naked under there. i dont blame him for wanting to stay cloaked

Xaria & Monty

oh god theyre art students. that explains SO much.

very funny to me that xaria heard a voice in her head compelling her to check out the window and decided she’s gonna be contrarian about it.

I imagine a lot of Monty’s projects are setting something on fire. shows up to class with a pile of plastic baby heads. sets them ablaze. the most important part of being an art student is the time honored tradition of bullshitting some sort of meaning that’s gonna satisfy the lecturer.

Probably decent at life drawings but he keeps burning his works. (not to mention realism doesnt appear to be his kind of style)

Xaria feels like she’d stick to slightly more traditional mediums (painting, sculpture)? a lot of surrealism, mixed media, themes of nonconformity and violence. has totally used blood in a project before. More intentional about the meaning of her art- the intention being that she wants to make people uncomfortable.

i think it’d be hilarious if they’d been binging horror movies the night before. funniest options are The Thing and Tetsuo the iron man.

Since Sam mutates into something regardless of what you do up on the roof, i’m guessing the same goes for these two if you bring them up there. cool/nasty idea for their mutation is they fuse into one being... not necessarily an idea im running with atm but fun to think abt anyway

Sybil

AGH, sybil….. i love her. she's just really nice...

I think she’s in some sort of schrödinger’s cat situation - dead and alive until observed. or maybe like a quark (particle that cannot be observed but you can see the effects of it).

it’s unclear if someone ever was next door to you, but if I recall the astronomers tell you there’s no way she’s there? (cant recall if its bc she was “dead” by then or if its the totally wrong floor.)

the game says it was a mystery what happened to sybil, but a potential course of events could be your Real Neighbour just got sucked outta their window same as what happens to you if you look and sybil THINKS shes next door to you.

I’m pretty sure she’s in all of the walls? some of her text implies that, even tho she doesnt seem to be really aware of it.

far as she knows, she's in her apartment. what's her apartment like? well, it's an apartment. it's got walls. she can see out the peephole. there's.... furniture. What else do you want?

(man. between her, the pipe lady, the water pump guy, and the boiler room the walls are CROWDED. no wonder the roaches decide to move to your place.)

The Visitor

what do i even say about it? it is, in the most direct meaning of the word, awesome. it’s unfathomably immense. it's beautiful. it's horrifying. I love that in a single eye out of infinite eyes, it sees a miniscule creature who just wants to live. Sam becomes a smaller reflection of the Visitor, and the visitor gains a fraction of what makes sam human…

I wonder, did the visitor even “exist” until witnessed? same as sybil, maybe it could have some quantum thing going on. i can’t speculate on this any more than the astronomers have.

Sam (ritual-denial)

while it’s the nicest ending possible, i still feel kinda bad for sam :( he can never be truly alone anymore, but at the same time isn’t becoming a giant god-creature kind of isolating? sure, he must grow used to it over time but MAN. WHAT AN ADJUSTMENT.

regardless, it’s nice that he decides to use his new form to take care of the world, and sounds like he probably gets some extra brain capacity to be able to do all the stuff he does. (probably a few extra mini-brains to control the different arm nodes)

I hope he gets to take time for himself too, sometimes. probably sleeps like a dolphin (switch off half the brain for a power nap)

I don't think he can do verbal communication (at least, it's gonna take him a WHILE to figure out how to talk with his feelers) but at least there's keyboards.

also its funny how he gains like a gajillion arms after potentially losing one of two.

also i love the cafe patrons and the mutants at the camp. theyre all so fun. AND MANUEL FUNKY LITTLE DUDE WITH THE JAMS.

i need to find more about the lady with the slasher mask i just know she exists.

@mtgc858 @deafeningfestivalpaper @kasprawn39 @contract-crawdad @goawaypopup @eyessss come get yer headcanons

anyway uhhhhhhh hope you found my rambling fun to read byee

[plasticflowersinahistorycemetery]

sunshine personified

one-shot

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Sweetheart!Reader

Summary: Golden mornings and pressed flowers, whispered words between pages, laughter drifting through warm summer air. You talk, and Sam listens—always listens, always watches, always loves. Every little thing you do fills him with light, and by the end of the day, he’s sure of one thing: you are his sunshine.

Warnings: Absolute and utter tooth-rotting fluff, kissing, implied/mild reference of cunnilingus/oral, I believe that is all.

Word Count: 4,556

A/N: PHEW. That was too sweet (heh, get it? Hozier?) for me... seriously, I think I need to brush my teeth after writing and proofreading this because the gum-disease is real. I got the idea for this yesterday, and I know... believe me, guys, I KNOW I should be working on the final instalment of "exhibitionism", but I genuinely couldn't help myself. It's been a very fluffy day for me today, and I needed a break from all that intensity. So I started it and it ran all the way away from me. ALSO... how's everyone feeling about the three pic/gif layout? I don't know, I'm trying something new. If we wanna go back to just one gif, let me know. As always, if you feel like it, please give me your feedback. <3 Signing off, until the next one. All the love.

"'Cause my baby's sweet as can be She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

When my time comes around Lay me gently in the cold dark earth No grave can hold my body down I'll crawl home to her"

Work Song - Hozier

The morning was slow, syrup-thick, stretching out in ribbons of gold that pooled across the sheets. Somewhere in the haze of waking, you registered the warmth beneath you—steady, unshifting, the rise and fall of breath beneath your cheek.

Sam.

You had fallen asleep against him again.

The realisation curled at the edges of your consciousness, soft and familiar, blooming like warmth in your chest. His sweater—because of course you were wearing one of his sweaters—smelled like cedarwood and coffee, the fabric slightly rumpled from sleep. You stirred, shifting slightly, and the broad, steady palm on your back flexed, fingers pressing idly against the dip of your spine.

There was a quiet chuckle—low, indulgent, so unmistakably him.

"Morning, Sweetheart."

His voice was warm and sleep-rough, that perfect blend of affectionate and teasing, still thick from the weight of rest. You hummed in response, nose scrunching against his chest as you tried to burrow back into the comfort of him.

"Y’know you’ve got a little something—" He paused, his thumb grazing along your cheek, featherlight, tracing the small indent pressed into your skin. His voice dipped, fond amusement laced through every syllable. "—right here. Cute."

You groaned, half-heartedly swatting at him as you rubbed at your face, but the damage was already done—he was grinning now. You didn’t even have to look up to know it. He had that look—the one he always got when he caught you soft and sleep-rumpled, still tangled in the remnants of dreams, your cheek creased from where you’d been pressed against him.

And God, he loved it.

Loved the way you always curled into him in your sleep, loved the way you reached for him without thinking. Loved that you always found your way back.

He shifted, the mattress dipping slightly as he propped himself up on one elbow. His hand—those big, careful hands—slid up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear, his fingertips lingering just a second longer than necessary.

"You drooled on me again," he mused, ever the menace, his grin widening when you gasped in outrage.

"I did not—!"

"Mhm." He nodded, all mock solemnity. "Right here. Think I might have to start charging rent for all the real estate you take up on my chest every night."

You shoved at him, but you were laughing now, and that was all that mattered.

He caught your wrist before you could retreat too far, tugging you effortlessly back into his orbit. His fingers were gentle, curling loosely around yours, his thumb tracing absent patterns over your knuckles.

"Don’t run off just yet," he murmured, quieter this time, softer. His voice was a slow, sweet thing, unspooling in the golden hush of morning.

And maybe it was the way the sunlight hit him just right, casting soft amber halos at the edges of his hair. Maybe it was the way his gaze never wavered, locked onto you like he was memorising every inch, every little sleep-creased detail. Or maybe it was just him—just Sam, looking at you like you were the best part of waking up.

Either way, you stayed.

Of course you stayed.

You let yourself sink back against him, let yourself be gathered up into his warmth as he exhaled slow and content. His hand found its way back to your spine, splaying firm and steady, right where it belonged.

And when you started yapping about the song stuck in your head—something about Hozier, something about a lyric you’d been turning over in your mind—he just smiled, dimples deep, and listened.

Because, God help him—he would listen to you talk about anything forever.

"Here—put it on."

Sam reached for your phone on the nightstand, fingers brushing over the worn book that had been resting there overnight—your latest read, pages softened from where you’d thumbed through them. He handed you the phone without taking his eyes off you, that lazy, morning-soft smile still tugging at his lips.

You blinked, momentarily distracted, still caught between the warmth of sleep and the weight of him beneath you.

"Which one?"

"The one that's already stuck in your head." He said it like it was obvious. Like it was the only answer.

So you pressed play.

The soft, aching pull of strings filled the space between you first, gentle and familiar, before the melody swelled—Hozier’s voice sinking through the room like honey dissolving into tea.

"I still watch you when you're groovin'..."

The moment it started, Sam closed his eyes and smiled.

Not just any smile. That smile. The slow, easy one that started deep—the kind that dimpled, the kind that wasn’t just on his lips but in the way his breath hitched, in the way his shoulders softened.

He let the first few lines roll through him, sinking back into the pillows, completely in it. And when he finally looked at you again, eyes half-lidded, warm like the first spill of sunlight over sheets, he murmured, "Oh, this is a good one."

Like you didn’t already know.

You grinned, shifting so you could stretch out next to him properly, one arm draped lazily over his chest.

"Alright, professor," you teased, voice still scratchy from sleep. "What do you think? What’s he saying?"

Sam huffed a laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before exhaling slow.

"It’s about movement, obviously—"

"Oh, wow, brilliant analysis, Sam. Stunning insight. Absolutely revelatory—"

"Shut up," he laughed, grinning even wider now, reaching out to poke at your side. You squirmed, swatting his hand away. "Just listen."

You did.

"You are a call to motion... There, all of you a verb in perfect view..."

Sam hummed low in his throat. "See that? The phrasing of it? He’s not just watching someone move—he’s saying they are movement. They’re the thing itself."

Your fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt, considering. "Like… a force of nature."

"Exactly." His fingers tapped absently against your hip, mind already unraveling the meaning. "He’s not describing them as graceful, or powerful, or fluid—he’s saying they’re all of it. He’s saying the way they move… moves him."

Your breath caught.

Because of course that’s what Sam took from it. Of course he understood.

"I can recall something that’s gone from me... When you move, honey, I’m put in awe of something so flawed and free..."

You sat up a little, brows knitting together as you chewed on that line. "That part always gets me. Like—why? Why ‘flawed and free’?"

Sam’s lips pressed together, thoughtful. His thumb traced slow, absent-minded circles against your arm as he considered.

"Because it’s human," he said finally, voice low, reverent. "Because perfection isn’t what moves people. It’s the cracks, the imperfections, the things that make someone real. That’s what sticks with you."

Your chest ached at that.

Because that was him. That was so Sam. Finding beauty in the messy, imperfect parts.

"Shake like the bough of a willow tree... You do it naturally..."

"God, the imagery," you sighed, your hand curling into his shirt like it would help you hold onto the feeling. "Willow trees don’t break, Sam. They bend."

His fingers stilled against your skin.

And for a second, he just looked at you. Like you’d just said something that shifted the whole earth beneath him.

His lips parted, like he was about to say something, but—

He didn’t.

Instead, he reached for you.

One sure, steady hand found its way to your jaw, tilting your face up as his thumb brushed your cheek, slow and deliberate. And before you could even think, before you could catch your breath, he kissed you.

Not rushed. Not desperate. Just deep, slow, and aching.

Like the song. Like he couldn’t help it. Like you moved him.

The kiss stretched long and slow, a sunrise in itself.

His lips moved against yours with aching patience, deep and sure, like he had all the time in the world—because he did. Because there was no rush, no urgency, just this moment, this warmth, this slow-drifting love.

The sunlight spilling through the window turned everything golden, brushing soft against your skin, catching in his hair, pooling over the sheets. It was thick like honey, wrapping around the two of you, holding you in its glow.

Warm. Sweet. Slow.

Sam’s hand—big, steady, reverent—cradled the back of your head, his thumb stroking lazy arcs along the curve of your cheekbone. He kissed you like you were something sacred, like he was memorising the way you felt beneath his mouth.

And God, you could’ve stayed there forever.

But then—

"Come on, or we’ll never get up," he murmured, lips still brushing against yours.

You huffed against him, reluctant.

Sam smiled. Not just with his mouth, but with his whole face—dimples deep, eyes soft with affection, his expression bathed in that early-morning glow.

Then, before you could protest, he sat up, stretching his long limbs, tugging you effortlessly with him.

"C’mon, Sweetheart."

He reached for your nightstand as he stood, grabbing the book you’d been reading the night before, his fingers curling around the worn cover like it was familiar. Then, without letting go of your hand, he led you out into the hall, the book tucked in one hand, your fingers laced through the other.

And that was how you made your way to the kitchen. Hand in hand, words and warmth between you.

The kitchen smelled like coffee and old wood, warm from the soft morning light filtering through the windows. The golden hues stretched long over the floorboards, catching on the vase of sunflowers sitting in the centre of the table.

You settled into your usual seat, curling your legs beneath you, thumbing idly through the book Sam had carried in. Soft pages, familiar creases, a world waiting between the covers.

Across the kitchen, Sam moved effortlessly, grabbing the coffee mugs, setting the pot to drip.

The quiet was comfortable. Soft radio static, birds beyond the window, the rhythmic shuffle of Sam moving around the space you shared.

You flipped to your bookmark—except…

You frowned, because it wasn’t a bookmark at all. Just a folded piece of paper, carefully tucked between the pages. Curious, you pulled it free. Unfolded it.

Your breath hitched.

Sam’s handwriting.

Small, slightly slanted, scrawled in blue ink that had settled deep into the fibres of the paper.

Sweetheart,

You fell asleep with the page open again. I figured I’d save your place before you lost it completely. But since I’m already writing, I might as well tell you something else. I love the way you read. Not just the books, but the world. The way you look at things, the way you take them apart and put them back together with wonder, with softness. The way you see me. I don’t know if I’ve ever been looked at the way you look at me. I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved it. But God, do I love you for it.

—Sam

You brushed your thumb over the words, tracing the ink, lingering on them, like touching them would help you absorb them completely. Warmth bloomed in your chest, soft and full and almost too much. And then, as you sat there, heart soaked in sunlight and love, Sam placed a coffee mug in front of you.

When you looked up, he was already smiling.

"I couldn’t help it," he murmured, dipping his head slightly, sheepish but unapologetic.

Your throat tightened.

"Sam."

That was all you could say. Just his name, just that, because there were too many things sitting heavy in your chest, too much feeling, too much warmth.

Sam’s gaze softened even more—like it was possible for him to look at you any softer. Then, gently, he reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, thumb brushing over the place his words had already touched.

He didn’t need you to say anything. He already knew.

"Drink your coffee," he said, voice low and fond. "Read a little."

He picked up his own mug, nodding toward the window, toward the golden morning stretching beyond it.

"I wanna go for a walk while it’s nice out."

Like it was nothing. Like this—slow mornings, coffee and notes tucked between book pages, easy affection and golden-hour love—was just what you did.

And really, it was.

Because he loved you. And he wanted you to know it.

Sam left you to read while he went to get dressed, pressing a soft kiss to your temple before disappearing down the hall.

You curled deeper into your chair, your fingers idly brushing over the edge of his note as you sipped the last of your coffee. The morning was still quiet, golden light spilling warm through the window, stretching in soft bands over the table, the sunflowers, the slow swirl of steam lifting from Sam's mug.

By the time Sam returned, sleeves pushed up, hair still a little sleep-mussed, he ruffled a hand through it and nodded toward the hall.

"You should get changed too, Sweetheart," he said, voice low, warm. "We should get going before it gets too hot out."

You hummed in agreement, slipping from your seat, setting your mug in the sink before making your way toward the bedroom.

And the moment you stepped inside, you noticed it. His sweater. Folded neatly on the bed. It hadn’t been there when you’d gotten up. He’d left it for you. On purpose.

A slow, deep warmth unfurled in your chest, soft and golden and so very Sam.

You picked it up, running your fingers over the thick fabric—worn soft, smelling like him, cedar and coffee and something you couldn’t quite name but always recognised as home.

So, of course, you put it on. It drowned you immediately, the sleeves falling well past your hands, the hem brushing against your thighs, the collar loose at your neck. Perfect. You pressed your nose into the fabric for a second, smiling, warmth thrumming through your bones.

And then—you remembered.

The flowers.

You stepped toward your nightstand, bending down to grab the book tucked beneath it—a well-loved copy of something you’d read a thousand times, pages softened with time, spine lined with creases.

You flipped it open carefully, fingers achingly gentle. And there they were. Buttercups, lavender sprigs, tiny forget-me-nots. Pressed flat, perfectly dried.

A fresh rush of warmth bloomed in your chest. This meant you could pick more while you were out.

But for now? For now, you had something else to do.

Stepping toward Sam’s nightstand, you reached for the book he’d left there—one of the thick classics he always lost himself in, pages dog-eared despite his careful nature. You flipped to his bookmark, fingers brushing over the paper before slipping your pressed flowers inside, tucking them right between the pages.

He’d find them later.

And when he did? He’d know. Because this—this was how you loved each other. Bookmarks and buttercups, coffee and handwritten notes. The quiet, careful things.

When you stepped back into the kitchen, Sam turned. And he froze. His lips parted slightly, brows flicking up, and oh. Oh.

That look.

That wrecked, undone, absolutely gone look. His eyes dragged over you slowly, taking in every inch, every soft fold of fabric drowning you, every too-long sleeve swallowing your hands.

He swallowed.

"Jesus, Sweetheart," he murmured, low and wrecked, voice like slow thunder before a storm. "You trying to kill me?"

You blinked at him, wide-eyed, innocent. "What?"

He exhaled sharply. Ran a hand over his jaw. And then, without warning, he was on you.

You barely had time to react before his hands were on you—one firm and broad against your back, the other sliding up to your jaw, thumb swiping slow beneath your eye.

And then he kissed you. Hard. Desperate. Deep. Tongue sweeping into your mouth, pulling a noise from you that he swallowed whole.

His grip tightened, fingers pressing into your back, like he was anchoring himself to you. The edge of the counter bit into your lower back, but you didn’t care—not when he was kissing you like this.

Like he couldn’t help himself. Like you wearing his sweater had flipped some switch in his brain. Like you had ruined him entirely.

You fisted your hands in his shirt, pulling him closer, tilting into him as his teeth nipped lightly at your lower lip, sucking it between his own before chasing it with his tongue.

God. God.

Sam kissed like he read—deep, slow, intentional. Like he needed to feel every letter, every syllable, every ache. And for a second, just a second, you thought—

Maybe we never go on that walk.

But then he pulled back, just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes—dark, warm, drowning in something so deep you swore you could fall in. His thumb swiped under your eye again, softer this time.

He swallowed, voice wrecked and low.

"I love when you wear my stuff," he murmured, and it wasn’t just words, it was a confession. A truth laid bare.

Your chest ached at it.

And then, just like that, he took a steady breath, eased back, though his hands lingered on you—like he couldn’t quite let go.

"Come on, Sweetheart," he murmured, still breathless, still looking at you like you’d done something irreparable to his heart. "Let’s go pick some flowers."

The morning air was crisp, but not cold, the kind of cool that would burn off by midday, leaving nothing but blue sky behind. The trees swayed slow and drowsy in the breeze, their leaves casting gentle shadows across the dirt path.

And you? You talked.

God, you talked.

About a dream you half-remembered from last night, about how you thought you saw a shooting star the other night but weren’t sure if it was just a plane. About the books on your nightstand you needed to finish, about the theories you had for the ending of one of them, about how you weren’t sure if you’d ever actually seen a real four-leaf clover before, but you were determined to find one someday.

And Sam?

He listened. Listened the way he always did. Fully, deeply, like there was nothing else in the world.

Because it wasn’t just the things you said—it was the way you said them. The way your eyes twinkled when you got excited, the way you sometimes didn’t even finish a thought, just barrelled headfirst into the next one, already lit up with something new. The way you gestured when you spoke, flitting between topics like a hummingbird, full of boundless, unstoppable energy.

And every now and then—you’d scamper off.

You’d veer slightly off the path, darting toward the tall grass and kneeling to gather a bunch of wildflowers that looked too perfect to leave behind.

Sam already knew why.

You wanted to press them. You wanted them frozen forever, just the way they were. And God, if that wasn’t the sweetest, most you thing.

After a while, things fell into a natural quiet. The kind of soft, comfortable silence that only existed between people who knew each other down to their bones.

You reached for more flowers, and without a word, Sam shifted the ones you’d already picked into his free hand.

Letting you keep going. Letting you gather all the pieces of beauty you wanted to hold onto.

He smiled to himself.

And then you started humming. Soft at first, just under your breath. A melody he recognised instantly.

Nobody’s Soldier.

A slow grin tugged at Sam’s lips. And before he could even stop himself, he joined in—singing, terribly, but still singing.

"If I tell you this is drowning, you'd tell me I'm walking on water."

You gasped, delighted, laughing as you glanced up at him. “Sam, you’re so off-key—”

"I know," he grinned, "but I’m committed now."

And you just shook your head, laughing, before launching back into the next verse, your voice clear and warm and lovely.

By the time the chorus came around, you were both singing. Him, off-key. You, beautiful.

Him, watching you. Completely, utterly, unconditionally in love.

When the song finally ended, you exhaled deeply, content, stretching your arms toward the sky.

"God, that song is so good," you sighed, brushing your fingers over the petals of a buttercup before gently plucking it.

Sam hummed, watching you, thoughtful.

"You ever think about that one line?" He asked, shifting his grip on your hand. “I don’t wanna choose between being a salesman or a soldier.”

You glanced up, intrigued. "Yeah? What about it?"

He exhaled slowly, eyes flicking toward the tree line as he turned the words over in his mind.

"It’s about choice. About… refusing to fit into someone else’s definition. Someone else’s idea of what you should be."

You blinked at him, then looked down at the flowers in your hand.

Pressed flowers. The ones you chose to keep, to freeze, to make last. Like pieces of a world that was constantly shifting, constantly moving too fast for anyone to hold onto.

And suddenly, you saw the parallel.

You smiled softly.

"You mean like how I keep trying to hold onto flowers?"

Sam huffed a laugh, tilting his head. "Maybe."

"But I don’t keep all of them," you pointed out, glancing at the wildflowers still standing untouched in the field. "Just the ones that feel right. Just the ones I love enough to want to keep."

Sam’s steps slowed. His fingers tightened slightly around yours.

Because, God.

That was so you. Choosing what to hold onto, what to keep, what to love.

Not because someone told you to. Not because you had to. Just because you wanted to.

And maybe, just maybe—that’s how you loved him, too. Just because you wanted to. Just because you looked at him, in all his flaws, in all his cracks, and still—you stayed.

Sam swallowed, lips parting slightly, eyes tracing your face in the golden light. But he didn’t say anything. Not yet. He just squeezed your hand. And you? You squeezed back. And together, with wildflowers in one hand and each other in the other, you walked on.

By the time you made it back, the air had begun to thicken with warmth, the kind that came with the promise of midday heat. The world outside had turned brighter, louder, more golden, but inside—inside was still soft.

Sam followed you to the bedroom, watching as you carefully spread parchment across the surface of the bed, delicately laying each flower across its surface. Lavender sprigs, daisies, baby's breath. Tiny pieces of nature, frozen in time.

And he helped. Of course he helped.

Handing you each bloom as you pressed them between the pages of your book, flattening them so the weight could do its job—like it had so many times before. The process was careful, deliberate, something sacred between you.

"Few weeks from now, these’ll be perfect," you murmured, smoothing a hand over the book’s cover before tucking it beneath your nightstand.

Sam just smiled.

Because you always said that. Every time, like it was the first time. Like it was magic. Like you never stopped being amazed that the world could give you something so beautiful, and let you keep it.

God, he loved you.

Lunch was simple—leftovers warmed up, easy conversation, sunshine spilling through the windows, pooling on the kitchen floor.

And, as always, you talked.

About how the colour yellow made you think of summer, how you liked the way baby’s breath dried out all delicate and airy, how you were thinking about collecting leaves too, because the reds and oranges always looked so pretty in scrapbooks.

And Sam? He just watched you. Watched you the way he always did—soft, steady, drinking in every part of you like it was the last time he’d ever get the chance.

Because the thing about you was, you weren’t just talking. You were feeling. You were seeing the world in colours, in textures, in meaning, and you weren’t just keeping it to yourself—you were giving it to him, too. Letting him into your world, into the way you saw things, into all the little pieces of beauty you chose to keep.

And God, you were beautiful.

Not just your face. Not just the curve of your smile, or the way your eyes brightened when you got excited. But all of you. The way you felt things so deeply. The way you never stopped collecting pieces of the world that made you happy. The way you spoke about the little things like they mattered—because to you, they did.

And Sam—Sam had never loved anything the way he loved you.

You were his Sweetheart. His sunshine. The only thing in the world he wanted to press between the pages of time and keep forever.

That night, when you both curled into bed, he didn’t want to sleep yet.

Not when he could touch you. Not when he could taste you. Not when he could spend the last moments of the day pressed between your thighs, dragging his tongue across your skin, pulling the softest, sweetest sounds from your lips.

Because the truth was, you were made of sunlight. Warmth and light, golden and soft.

And Sam had spent his whole life standing in the shadows. Drenched in cold, lost in dark places, hands stained with things he tried not to remember.

But you? You were a sunrise, an eclipse, a miracle. And he wanted to drown in you.

So he took his time. Let his hands map the length of you, broad and reverent, tracing slow circles into your skin as he kissed his way down, down, down—until his mouth was on you, and you were falling apart beneath him.

Your fingers knotted into his hair, pulling, breath catching, voice breaking on his name.

And Sam—Sam savoured it. Savoured every whimper, every stuttered inhale, every breathless plea. He soaked in your pleasure like it was liquid gold, like it was something divine.

Because, in truth?

It was. You were. And he would worship at the altar of you forever.

The night settled around you like a slow exhale, soft and warm, the air humming with the last remnants of the day. The bedroom was dim, lit only by the golden glow of the bedside lamp, throwing long shadows across the walls, casting everything in honey and hush.

Sam pulled you into his chest, the way he did every night. Like ritual, like devotion. Like he wouldn’t know how to sleep without you curled against him.

His arms wrapped firm and steady around you, one broad hand splayed across your back, thumb tracing slow, absent-minded circles through the fabric of his sweater—the same one you’d put on that morning, the same one you were still drowning in now.

His heartbeat was slow, solid.

And you—you were exactly where you belonged. You felt him shift slightly, reaching for his book on the nightstand.

"You still awake?" He murmured, voice low, all sleep-soft and sweet.

You hummed, nuzzling against his chest. "Mhm. Read to me."

He smiled, because of course you were. You always fell asleep to the sound of his voice, let yourself be lulled by the low, steady cadence of it, the weight of words spilling soft and slow into the dark.

So he cracked the book open—

And suddenly—

A handful of flowers tumbled out, scattering across his chest, landing in the mess of your hair where you lay against him.

Sam froze. Blinking, breath hitching slightly as his eyes tracked the tiny pieces of pressed perfection. Buttercups. Lavender sprigs. Forget-me-nots.

His chest went tight. And then—he felt you move. Felt you tip your head back against him, grinning up at him, wide-eyed, caught between excitement and mischief.

Sam let out a slow, breathless laugh.

God.

You were everything.

His throat worked around a swallow as he set the book aside, fingers grazing over the flowers, gathering a few between his fingertips. And then he was looking at you—really looking at you. Eyes tracing the golden glow along your cheekbones, the way your hair spread like a halo against him, the tiny little pressed petals caught in the strands.

He lifted one hand, tucking a piece of lavender behind your ear, thumb brushing the side of your face.

"Sweetheart," he murmured, so soft it was almost reverent. "You are sunshine personified."

Your breath caught.

Sam watched the way your expression softened, the way your fingers curled against his chest, the way you looked at him like he was something precious.

"I love you," he said.

And it wasn’t rushed.

It wasn’t fleeting. It was weighty, steady, deeply felt. It was the kind of thing that would linger in the marrow of your bones long after the words were gone.

Your lips parted, eyes gleaming, smile stretching slow and full and golden.

And when you whispered, "I love you too,"

Sam felt it everywhere.

@mostlymarvelgirl @losers-clvb @lunaleah @itshellfire @drakulana @nevercameraready <3

[crispyanonart]

I know I only post art here but for future reference here are some Stardew Valley headcanons:

Sebastian and Maru actually have a good relationship because their parents shortcomings aren't their shortcomings, in fact Maru looks up to Seby a lot because he's an introvert like her but managed to have a tight friend group

Leah and Haley get lost in conversations about lighting and composition. When Leah arrived in town they didn't care for each other at first but ended up bonding over their artsy interests. Haley lets Leah use her dark room to do experiments, and secretly thinks she's effortlessly very cool

Maru doesn't really hang out with the others but Abigail saw her out of her nurse attire while visiting Sebastian and started being interested in her. Maru also noticed her and contrary to popular belief she's the one who started flirting first

Elliott loves to surprise Leah with stunning vegetarian charcuterie boards, they actually plan little pic nic dates around it, she brings the wine and they spend the evening on the lake dock

Harvey and Emily kind of fuss over Shane and his wellbeing, and he pretends to hate it but he's secretly very grateful for their friendship and sometimes feels like they (and the farmer lol) are the only people who didn't give up on him. Emily in particular likes to make dark jokes about his situation and she's the only one who gets the pass from Shane for it.

Sebastian spent years pining HARD after Sam and at some point he thought he was just envious of how easily he bonded with people and was liked by everyone.

Sam is very physical, he gives the biggest hugs to everyone but he specifically loves to push Sebastian's buttons to the limit. Actually, Sam has a hidden kind of sadistic side to him when it comes to sabotaging Lewis' plans and flustering Seby.

Penny is NOT a girl's girl, but she kind of gets dragged along to plans with the gals because ohana means family and not even the Pick Me© girl gets left behind

Emily managed to make Harvey try *magic* mushrooms once. He enjoyed the experience despite having tremendous anxiety about the whole thing, he found it scientifically interesting. He wouldn't do it again tho

Alex was so sure he had the biggest crush on Haley for all his teen years but in reality he just admired her femininity and her style. Haley didn't reciprocate but liked the attention because he actually never made a move towards her, so they had this comfortable situation that fit society standards. They started having an honest friendship only after Alex's coming out

Emily is the biggest fan of the Goblin Destroyers and she offers to sew special merch for them. Sam, Seb and Abby are so grateful for her support

[p-redux]

Who took the pictures of them? 4 plates

Oooh, good catch! Anon is referring to 4 plates on a table in one of the pics Sam posted from his recent trip to Mexico. 👇

The 4 plates would be accounted for by: Sam, the two men in the pic with him here 👇 and one more person...

One of the men is Pedro Fernandez Del Valle 👇

He's the guy from the hotel in Sayulita, Mexico that I previously posted Sam and Vicky Farkasova BOTH followed. 👇

The other tag in the pic is for an agave distillery, so I'm assuming that's the other man. Sooooo, I'm no Math major, but if there are 4 plates on the table and 3 guys in the pic, SOMEONE had to take the pic, and that someone would logically be the 4th person at the table. And that someone would be gorgeous Ms. Vicky Farkasova. I mean, C'MON, just look at her. 👇 No surprise Sam couldn't resist.

Soooo, the 4 place settings ALSO proves that Sam and Vicky vacationed in Mexico together just the two of them, and not as part of a group, like some people wondered. It's Sam, Vicky, and the two Mexican guys from the Sayulita hotel and the agave distillery. And that's it. No other place settings at that table.

Aaaaand, as I'm writing this, it looks like Sam untagged the guys from his post. Mhm. 🤔

I'm getting distracted just thinking about the gene pool with these two. Imagine? ❤️

Sigh. It doesn't look like Sam wants to procreate any time soon. But damn, that man better pass on that blonde, blue eyed, Scottish genetic lottery at some point, right? It would be a crime against humanity not to. JS.

PS. Here's my previous Mexico #samova posts for reference. 👇

[mrmeowziii]

Roti Shuffled AU!

They were decided randomly, though there were a couple I stepped in for, lol. The elimination order and teams are different.

More info about each cast member below! + Bonus pic

Cast- (in OG elimination order)

Staci -> Cameron- Cameron is a small, sheltered boy who’s never had any friends. Desperate to form connection, Cameron began taking on the persona of a genius in an effort to impress people and get their attention. He usually doesn’t know if what he’s saying is true- but he’ll say it anyway to sound smart. He talks a LOT, too.

Dakota -> Lightning- Lightning has lived a very nice life. He’s hot, he’s rich, and he gets everything he wants. He’s a fitness model who gets a lot of media attention- the man loves himself so much, he’d probably marry his reflection. Under all that, there might be more to him- but the right somebody’s gotta be there to make it happen.

B -> Staci- Staci’s a quiet girl who’s spent much of her life being bullied- so much so that she barely talks. She didn’t even want to sign up for the season- some of her bullies forced her to film her audition tape. She’ll try her best in the game, but she doesn’t have any confidence in herself. She’s sure she’ll be the first boot.

Dawn -> Zoey- Zoey’s always been a bit out there, but she really came into her own when she discovered tarot and the healing properties of different minerals. She has a YouTube account where she posts daily readings for her subscribers- and she has a decent following. She plans to use the money to support animal conservation efforts.

Sam -> Dawn- Dawn’s family is rather well off, and thus have enabled Dawn’s addiction to video games since she was little. She picked one up from one of her friends at school, and has never looked back. She’s pretty out of touch in most instances, but she knows a LOT about all kinds of games. Gaming references are speckled into most conversations with her. Despite the fact that she’s usually looking at a screen, she’s far more perceptive than you’d think…

Brick -> Dakota- Dakota’s dad is a high ranking military general, and their family is quite well respected- or at least, Dakota’s father is. Dakota has always been quite attractive, but nobody ever takes her seriously- in fact, her appearance only makes it worse. She wants to prove to everyone that she’s more than just a pretty face- and that she deserves just as much respect as the others serving with her.

Anne Maria -> Mike- Vito is taking Mike’s place here- Mike doesn’t exist. Vito’s a hotheaded, cocky boy from Jersey whose family actually stars in Jersey Shore. He’s already got time in the spotlight, but he wants to try out something else- something a little more rugged. Oh, and maybe find a girlfriend is there’re any babes around. That’s definitely not his top priority.

Mike -> Brick- Brick is a sweet boy who’s been through a lot, but still follows his morals regardless- even if his alters arent exactly as keen on keeping up appearances. He wants more than anything to be liked- and to be seen as normal. He auditioned to prove to himself that he can keep himself under control. Whether that happens is… debatable. But maybe he’ll learn that he’s not the problem- and never was. (His alters’ names are Corporal, Jupiter, Cosmo, and Tiffany. I’ll draw them at a later time.)

Jo -> Anne Maria- Anne Maria is a fitness instructor who’s very confident in her own body, and wants to help others feel the same way. She’s used to being in charge, and any of her siblings will tell you that she’s not one to talk back to. She’s got a temper, for sure- though she really does have good intentions.

Scott -> B- B’s a very smart big guy who’s used to getting what he wants- and doing whatever it takes to make sure it stays that way. His family doesn’t come from the nicest background, and that shaped B into the person he is today. In a dog eat dog world, only the strongest survive. He’s seen TD before, and he’s sure he’s got what it takes to win. He’s all about working in the shadows- never putting himself in the spotlight. That’s where the previous villains failed- they were too obvious. B is confident he’s got what it takes.

Zoey -> Sam- Sam is a quirky guy who’s always been kinda lonely. You probably wouldn’t know who most of his favorite bands are- not that he wouldn’t love to show you! He came for fun more than anything- to see more of the world, meet new types of people, experience things he’d probably never see otherwise. And he hopes he can make some friends!

Lightning -> Scott- Scott is an aloof high school quarterback who’s popular in his small hometown for his many football victories. He may not be the smartest, but kid’s got skill. Everybody in town knows Scott Murphy- even if no one *actually* knows him. He very closed-off- perhaps from his home life, or perhaps it’s just how he is, but Scott never lets anyone get too close. He’s softer on the inside than he’d like to let on though- he’s just never felt comfortable being himself with anybody. He is pretty confident he’s got this in the bag, though.

Cameron -> Jo- Jo is a prodigy- smarter than anyone in her town, and by a large margin. She’s always been so far ahead that she had a bad habit of drawing lots of unwanted attention to herself in elementary school. After a move, she decided to change who she presented herself as to avoid the stigma she’d gotten from her peers in the past. Jo strived to come off as more jock-ish, and threw herself into sports. Nobody suspected a thing. She’s hoping to use her less threatening image to go under the radar, all the while pulling out the win form under everybody’s nose.

[bcacstuff]

Do you know who's with him at the Crossby? guess riddle

Anon, when you want to give guess riddles, then at least also provide the pieces to puzzle with!!!

But well, I believe you expect me to do so... 🙄 though I find you 'riddle' quite pathetic as you clearly are on a mission to connect him somehow with a woman in a negative way.... #justsaying

But anyway, yes he stayed (is staying) at the Crosby, as usual. Even though some people questioned it. The most ridiculous one trying to make me believe his Live IG was from Toronto and trying to connect that to GE (or was that you as well Anon?). Claiming the chair was typical Canadian 🙄🙄🙄... All while he clearly said he was in NYC and it was cold there. And more than that, GE moved to BC and doesn't live in Toronto anymore.

Anyway, back to the Crosby, as in the picture posted today by a pic hound, it's clearly the entrance of the Crosby. And we know the pic was taken some days ago.

But already before this 'fan pic' the artifacts we saw were clearly Kit Kemp style, the style that is used by the Firmdale hotels. And even though I couldn't find the exact room with all the artifacts we saw, I saw enough to determine he was at his usual place in NYC. The Crosbe street hotel.

Like that picture behind him in the Live IG or that distinct design of that set of drawers...

... and sure enough if you go look for more you'll find it. I reckon they do refurbish rooms from time to time and exchange furniture and paintings as well.

Anyway clear enough he stayed at the Crosby and not anywhere else.

And I guess the pieces of the puzzle you Anon, were referring to was the pic taken by Ashley, with his coat in the back ground....

And when Sam reposted a picture in his stories from another angle, you might have seen what I saw as well

right, same glass, but more interesting, that iron globular shape on the left... yes that is a very recognizable detail from the hotel as well.

So yes, Ashley took that pic, inside his hotel room, after his appearance at Fallon tonight, as the 'Sazenach' is clearly an inside joke referring to the way Fallon pronounced the name.

They probably watched the show together at his hotel room, after the HSC at 92ndstreet. Does it mean anything? Not to me, but I'm sure you want to make more out of it.

The innuendo in this fandom is already way out of control, we don't need more. Like the well known shipper always trying to talk in riddles

We all know who lives in Brooklyn, and she even shared her favorite bar... 🙄 which is.... you guessed it!

Oh and btw. that's not stalking, it's simply seeing what is put out there to share and use common sense!

[lost-romantique]

So someone said at the panel, Bryce used the past tense saying ‘loved’ someone, and worry that stolas doesn’t love blitz anymore. But they have the pride month stolitz merch and that pride month pic of them dancing and stolas with a ring, so I find it hard to believe. I hope that’s not true or not what he meant. It sounds stupid to ask, but they aren’t trying to say Stolas doesn’t love blitz anymore? cuz then the love triangle possibilities come back. Sorry if this is a silly question

Hi, I'm so sorry for the late reply! I'm on bsky more often, but I talked about it briefly on there.

I want to note that during this panel there were several topics that were not mentioned:

Stolas losing his daughter Octavia

Stolas and Blitz kiss scene and fight with Andre

Stolitz Balcony Dance

M&M Pregnancy

Blitz's Character Development

Blitz's Potential Newfound Fame due to the events of the trial

I went to LVLUP Expo this year, and I also took the time to rewatch the LVLUP panels.

One thing to note is that they were using James' first con appearance as a way to sort of steer the conversation away from the events of Mastermind and Sinsmas. Morgana specifically mentions the fact that Fizzmodeus is supposed to be a "healthy" mirror compared to Stolitz, and she uses that momentum to sorta keep the conversation steered clear away from mentioning taboo topics.

Here's the thing, James goes very hard on the Blitz bashing, but it's definitely done jokingly. When James says stuff like, "I know what you did," it sounds like they're referring to the events of Apology Tour.

What's odd is the fact that Bryce is definitely channeling a lot more "resentment" towards Blitz at this panel, which is odd because he usually maintains a level of neutrality when it comes to the whole Stolitz debacle.

That said, it's extremely obvious that they're discussing things in a very, Post Apology Tour way because they refuse to mention any of the character development that Blitz has gone through, and the fact that Sinsmas ends with Stolitz getting a brand new start.

For example, the creators KNOW about Blitz's character development- Sam Haft specifically mentions it in a comment on one his videos.

I want to mention this important note: Morgana jokes to Brandon about not asking him more questions- and Brandon acts jokingly offended when being asked questions.

Brandon, for most of this panel- is not given the chance to really speak, and it makes me wonder if they're trying to keep Brandon from revealing too much.

Brandon has gotten in trouble for revealing too much in the past, especially since the interviews he's been in post Sinsmas, he sorta alludes that Stolas and Blitz are in a better place.

"Things are finally working out for him and the owl."

Brandon, a writer for the show, specifically mentions at a panel right before LVLUP, that he truly believes that Stolas and Blitz understand their feelings for one another, despite their miscommunication. While Bryce, remains skeptical.

Brandon, in a panel that took place earlier in the year nonchalantly mentions, "I can't believe we've reached the part of the story where Stolas works for I.M.P." and Viv in response panics and goes "NOOOOOO!"

In conclusion, they were being purposely sus during the LVLUP panels, and they're going out of their way in making sure Brandon doesn't flub and accidentally reveal something.

Don't worry about it. Don't panic- they're deliberately being misleading in order to stop from mentioning anything profound happening in Season 3.

[gibor-zolel]

Tabitha: The sacrificial lamb? And possible Sybil motivations + partnership with Wayne

So in this post I'll be discussing why I think Tabitha is supposed to be the sacrifice and we're supposed to run the town.

I will also give a theory as to what Sybil's motivations might be and why her and "Wayne" seem to be working together even though they appear to dislike each other.

SPOILERS AND MANY SCREENSHOTS BELOW. THIS IS A LONG POST BE WARNED.

Right at the beginning of the game we can tell that Tabitha is unhappy with her lot in life and feels forced into doing what she believes is best for the town (similar to how Neeks feels forced and trapped)

She even admits as such during our time with her in chapter 3.

She; as the cousin who is older and has lived in Scarlet Hollow has been groomed by her mother into thinking that all this falls on her and she needs to sacrifice her life and happiness for the sake of the town.

But she's not the only one that believes this. Both Keneeka and Sybil have stated as much. Keneeka makes an offhand comment about how "we're not even a real Scarlet like Tabitha and this should fall on her" if we give up years of our life in chapter 3.

But Sybil is more....insidious and serious when she says this;

Sybil thinks it's Tabby's responsibility to give up a decade of her life to placate a ghost that was murdered by a Scarlet decades ago. I'm not gonna screencap every time Sybil makes an argument "for the greater good" but if you listen to her all throughout this story, you'll notice she does it A LOT.

Here's one example;

Everything has a price....but would Sybil do something like this herself? Perhaps...but it's more likely she's willing to do something horrible to her own daughter "for the sake of the town". She makes a big deal out of how the people in Scarlet Hollow are tied to this town and how they can't just get up and leave in chapter 2. She's not wrong but it's also obvious she's plotting and hiding information from us.

Which brings me to this; There's a strong possibility that "The Witch" is not merely an ancestor of Sybil but rather Sybil herself. In this scene we notice that The Witch has many poisonous plants...similar to how Book Smart can point out all the poisonous plants in chapter 1 or 4.

The Witch also sends Charlie on a dangerous mission to uncover the seals...hmmm who does that sound like? In chapter 4 after our tea session with Sybil she tells us to investigate the seals and find out what's hidden beneath them.

More importantly....if you have Mystical or don't drink Sybil's tea you can resist the urge to open the door in chapter 3.

We also learn towards the end of chapter 4 that Sybil is the one who told Dr Kelly to poison her son but we can only learn this if we didn't drink the chaga tea in chapter 2.

So it's pretty clear that Sybil wants two things;

(1) Uncover the seals

(2) Protect the town....even at the expense of others

But something that's interesting is that Sybil and whatever is piloting Sam Wayne's corpse seem to be working together for a common goal..even though the two don't seem to like or even respect each other.

We learn in chapter 1 or 2 depending on our choices, that "Wayne" has been coming by Sybil's tea room. Although it's unclear if the original Sam Wayne did this as well.

Regardless; Sybil tells Wayne she can't help him tonight and tells him to go away. In multiple chapters Sybil refers to Wayne as a drifter who'll be gone soon. She also stresses that we should be wary of him and to steer clear whenever he's around and we'll be fine. It's clear she knows what Wayne wants and most likely knows what "he" really is. She also gets this worried (disgusted?) look on her face if we tell her we're in love with Wayne (sorry no pic lol)

But she also steers clear of Wayne as well and rarely interacts with him and Wayne straight up threatens her if we choose to give up years of our life.

So why this hostility? And why do I think they might be working together?

Lets talk about those boxes in chapter 4. If you have Keen Eye in chapter 4 and open the closet you get this;

So it's Wayne that opens these boxes and shifts the doll around. Why? Well at the end of chapter 4 he tells us to investigate the estate and that we might be surprised at what we find. Wayne does this thing where it's obvious he knows what's going on but he won't directly tell us what's happening. He says it's because it'll be better for us to find out ourselves so "we can know who to really trust".

In other words; Wayne believes that once we uncover everything we'll be on his side. He's pretty confident about all this and I'm unsure how much to trust him; given that he repeatably bad mouths our friends and suggests we abandon them to save our own skins.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Why did Wayne open these boxes? Did he hope to find damming information against the Scarlet's? I find it hard to believe that Tabby has that pushed into the front of our closet but maybe she doesn't know it's there? And why didn't he put the boxes back in place? Almost as if he wants us to open that specific box.

What if...Wayne planted something there? Or maybe he took a piece of evidence and hid it? I think option 1 is more likely considering he seems to be isolating us from our friends.

I believe Wayne is working with Sybil to make sure Tabitha is the one to pay for all the crimes the Scarlet's did and insure that we are unharmed. I don't think Sybil cares too much if we get hurt but I also think she's of the belief that it's Tabitha who should be the sacrifice not us. Tabitha is the only one that Sybil agrees on being "The Cat" in episode 4. Sybil pushes you to distrust Tabby and perhaps Wayne planted something there to make us distrust her too.

Look at this interaction between Wayne and Tabby during the haunting;

He says this if you deliberately taunt Tabitha but I don't believe he's being sincere here. It sounds like he's mocking her in a subtle way given what he says in another option;

So far Tabby and Wayne haven't interacted much but imo it appears that Wayne enjoys taunting Tabitha and rubbing her ex's dead body and their failed relationship in her face. Pretty nasty but Wayne is pretty nasty to a lot of our friends.

Either way; Wayne is very invested in making sure we're safe and he gets pissed if we sacrifice ourselves and this is the only time we see him have any kind of emotion.

So what if he's so intent on keeping us safe he wants Tabby to take the fall for whatever skeletons are in the Scarlet's closet?

There's also this theme of the heir to the estate sacrificing their younger siblings or others to keep themselves in power. After all; Enoch sacrificed Teddy for power.

Tabby may be older than us but she's not the child of the heir, that's us. Vivian was supposed to be the boss of the mines but she left after she discovered she was pregnant.

I believe the Scarlet's have a history of having one side of their family rule while the other side gets used as sacrifices for whatever is cursing this town. Wayne wants to protect us from getting murked and Sybil is willing to do whatever it takes to ensure the people of the Holler can keep living their lives.

And let's face it; most of the town believes Tabby is to blame for all of their problems. She isn't sociable, she's blunt, she's isolated, she's alone....the perfect scapegoat?

[stormkpr]

Here is my TLDR where I savor all the Lydia/Kori moments we got on Friday's episode!

The episode was all I had dreamed about. The producers/RuGods love Kori & Lydia. They got SO much air time! So many good moments.....(my full recap after the pic)

- They both got a ton of confessionals

- They walk into the werkroom with Kori carrying Lydia!

- The other queens ask them for a relationship update. They cuddle up to each other as they answer, with Kori holding Lydia in her arms. Kori tells us they are in an "official relationship". Lydia tells us "the keys to the kingdom have been acquired"

- There was a big shoutout to Kori's Cameos, and they even showed a few clips of them. (Kori has been top 10 on Cameo - ALL of Cameo, not just among drag queens - for a couple months now.) The producers spent an insane amount of time on promoting her and her Cameos, which makes me think they will put her in the next All Stars.  

- Lydia got lauded for her lip syncs and got some great confessionals. She got choked up when talking about the awesome fan reaction to her work. Another queen said that the Lydia vs Kori 'Kiss Me Deadly' lip synch from earlier in the season was "Iconic television history".  Lydia cuddles against Kori as she says she is ready to "lip sync against anyone - even you". Kori talked about what it was like emotionally to have to lip sync against Lydia to Kiss Me Deadly.

- Kori tells us "I was so focused on finding love (during the season). Now I am ready for a f--ing win!"

The above was all in the first ten minutes!! Then they left the werkroom and it's on to the lip sync battles... 

- Kori and Lydia both did SO well in the lip sync smack-down! They each made it to Round 2. And Kori made it to the final round - and might've won if not for a costume mishap. People on Reddit lauded both of them for their looks and performances. All of their "reveals" (except for Kori's last one) went really well. 

And so much detail but I gotta get it all down:

- Kori hugs Lydia before her (Lydia's) first lip sync and says "I love you". (Then the queen who is about to go against Lydia says to Kori "Gonna take out your girlfriend"). When Lydia wins, Kori is doing happy dance and saying "My baby burnt! My baby burnt!"

- Then it's on to round 2. Kori and Lydia ended up having to lip sync against each other AND a third queen at the same time. I hate a 3-person lip synch -  going into it, I knew that there was no way that both of my queens could make it to the final. But on the bright side, there was a 66% chance that *one* of them would. 

- The other queens ate up the fact that the drag couple would be in a 3-way lip sync with Lana. One of their biggest cheerleaders is Sam and she says, "It should have been me".  (And at the end of it said, "They didn't even kiss. I'm pissed.") RuPaul said, "Kori and Lydia are having a 3-way with Lana." Kori does NOT accept any references to anyone else sleeping with Lydia and she replied, "Save it". Lana later said, "I'm third wheeling here." Another queen said, "If they start making out, Lana's gonna have to jump in there." All 3 got praise from the others for the performance.

- Kori won the above, and went to the final round. Before Lydia left the stage, she hugged her and picked her up. And Kori said if she wins, she will take Lydia on a beautiful vacation. Lydia later said "I know how badly Kori wanted to win this." And "A win for Kori is a win for me."

- And I can't even try to keep up with all the social meds but both posted afterwards that they feel like winners because they have each other (and they reblogged pics of them hugging each other, with words to that effect). 

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Christmas (Holiday) Smut, Red Ribbons, Candy Canes, Peppermint Sensations, Sleigh Bells, Sexy Santa References, Dean is Tied Up, Edging, Oral Sex, 69, Vaginal Sex, Reader is a Naughty Little Vixen, Dean deserves a proper (sexy) Christmas.

Word Count: 2700

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Notes: This smutty little fic is a holiday gift for @jessjad for the 2023 SPNFanFicPond Secret Santa Fic Exchange. I hope you enjoy the reader’s sexy times with Dean.

Big thanks to @sam-is-my-safeword and runawaydr3amer (AO3) for reading the first draft and helping with a great many awesome smut ideas. Additional thanks to runawaydr3amer, who also beta’d this fic and packaged it up nice and shiny. 

Merry holidays!

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo, and this part will fill my "Edging" square.

Resources:

Collage created in Canva

Pic found on Google (Fanpop)

Song Reference: Santa Baby by Joan Javits and Philip Springer (listen/watch this version sung by Eartha Kitt)

Dean sinks those pearly whites into the flesh of his bottom lip. His top lip pulls up and back into a painful sneer. The usual rosy, pillowy fullness of that mouth is instead taut, whitening under the capture. You laser focus onto the pointy canine denting into the mouth you have debated sitting on since you began this teasing challenge.

jingle

You finish fashioning a sweet little bow with the ribbon. It’s ruby red and velvety soft.

“Well, I think that’s about the prettiest package I ever did wrap.”

jingle

“What do you think, Mr. Claus?” you ask, your voice as innocent and demure as you can manage.

Dean opens his mouth and expels a slow gasp. jingle “Fuck, sweetheart. You aren’t playin’ fair.”

“That’s the whole point.”

You rise from the edge of the bed and take in the entire scene. It’s magnificent. 

He’s magnificent.

Dean is lying atop the forest green comforter of your bed. Naked. Well, not totally naked. A red ribbon - adorned with one single sleigh bell - binds his wrists together and anchors him to the headboard. His arms, jutting out and bent to create a diamond-shaped frame around his face, give you a prime ticket to the gun show. Biceps flex and tendons raise under the skin as he tries to remain as motionless as possible.

jingle

You aren’t a complete heathen. He’s got a fluffy pillow, the same deep green color as the comforter, to rest his head atop. Dean is anything but sleepy. He’s wound up. He stares back at you, the green of his irises electric and flaming with intensity.

You anticipate how sublime it will feel to strum the cords of his neck. Tickle your fingertips down that chest. You imagine Dean ring-a-ding-dinging and cursing himself if you take the time to trace the outline of his tattoo. Circle those perky nipples. Dip into his belly button and follow his treasure trail of baby-fine hair.

You marvel again at the other ribbon that you tied. You’d purchased a couple yards of red velvet at the craft store weeks ago with this in mind. With him in mind. You were ecstatic it had been enough to criss-cross around the crease below that fine ass. It wraps over a slight vee along his waist. The makeshift holiday jockstrap has Dean’s beautiful, now fully erect, cock sporting a bow.

Dean sighs. “Are you done decking my balls?” jingle

You giggle and fiddle with the belt of your robe. It’s red as well, but made of silk. “As we discussed, the end result of all of this is all up to you. Santa.” You flip a switch to turn off the ceiling light. The sconces stay on above the headboard. Two halos figure eight over Dean’s beautiful body, awash in a warm amber glow.

He’s a full print ad of holiday cheer and sinful debauchery.

“You’re being very naughty, (jingle) Mrs. Claus.” Dean licks his top lip—your core clenches at the deep timbre of his scolding. 

You’ve been wet since you both finished Christmas dinner. Since you told him you had one more gift for him waiting upstairs. Since you left him in the bedroom with orders to strip while you changed in the bathroom. Since you pulled out the ribbons. Since you explained that if he was good and could keep his jingling down to a minimum through what you had planned, you’d fuck him into the New Year.

You inhale and shrug, then begrudgingly turn your back to the sight. It takes a few taps on your phone for you to get to the song. You stifle another giggle at the little jingles Dean can’t help as he waits. 

Once you tap the play button, the festive and recognizable melody begins. A barbershop quartet bah-bums a bit before the sultry and smooth vocals of Eartha Kitt take the lead.

You look back over your shoulder at Dean and whisper along with Eartha.

You peel the silky robe off one shoulder then the other. Dean groans when the layer slips down to the floor. jingle

“Shit.” He moans and you grin in satisfaction at the hoped for reaction.

You turn back to face him, adding a dramatic hair flip. You're wearing a sexy little Mrs. Claus outfit. It’s a red velvet dress with a scandalously high skirt and a low-cut halter. White fur lines both the top and bottom. It’s all cinched nice and tight around your waist with a black belt and a gold buckle.

You bend at the knees and lean forward, shoulders folding in and hands resting on your thighs. It gives Dean the perfect vantage to ogle your cleavage. You purr along with the next line and modify the lyrics a smidge.

“Man, I must have been a really good boy this year.” Dean stares in awe, not even caring how much he’s jingling with his squirms atop the bed.

You let it slide for the time being, thrilled at the kid in a candy store grin plastered on his face and the way the bow sways with every twitch of his cock.  

Dean tilts his head to the side. His gaze begins at your red-glitter heels and canvases every inch of skin from ankles to thighs. He pauses, stopping to stare at the hint of flesh under the skirt hem. jin-jingle jingle jin-jingle He pants out, “Mrs. Claus forgot her panties, huh?”

You lift a finger and wiggle it back and forth in the air. “Uh-uh-uh. Remember, really good boys stay still if they want their present.”

The bell jangles no matter how carefully he attempts to reposition himself. “Son of a bitch,” he mumbles and you laugh. “Sorry, sweetheart. I’ll be good,” he whispers soft and sweet.

The heels tap across the hardwood as you walk over to settle beside Dean. You adjust your skirt to let the scant amount of fabric fan over your naughty bits. Being so close to him makes you forget the lyrics to sing along with Eartha.

You rest a hand on his chest. Through clenched teeth, Dean inhales at the touch, the rest of him frozen in place. The bell is silent. Your other hand grabs one of the candy canes you had left on the bedside table. For reasons.

Watching him fight every urge he has to reach out and touch you is fascinating. And the power you have over him gives you a head rush. You continue the tease, twirling the candy between your fingers, then laving the cane’s hook with your mouth and tongue. Dean garners some pity from you as he whines, brows downturned, eyes attentive to your every swirl and suck. You swing the cane close to his mouth. “Wanna taste?”

He swallows. “Wanna taste you,” he states, the hint of hope escaping around the edges of a soft moan.

The thrill of his need quickens your pulse. No other man has loved and adored you as thoroughly and exuberantly as Dean Winchester. You nod. “You will. But, first,” you rub the wet-slick candy cane over his bottom lip, “show me what that mouth wants to do.”

“You know what this mouth can do,” he reminds with a little sass, letting the candy cane tap against his bottom teeth. 

But soon enough, he indulges you. He slips the hook between his lips. His tongue slides out under the curve of peppermint, lapping at the sticky sweet. Again and again. Your breath hitches into your open mouth as you watch, enthralled at the ministrations of that thick and powerful muscle. He sucks the confection in a little farther, pursing his lips. The sounds he’s making, enjoying the treat, are downright pornographic and send any extraneous bell ringing to the back of your hearing queue. The red food coloring coats them like lip gloss by the time you break from the spell of his show. You guess it’s been minutes since Eartha finished her rendition of ‘Santa, Baby.’ The rest of the playlist you created has soft and dreamy instrumentals.

“My turn,” you cajole. You tug on the cane. He relinquishes, but not without some resistance. A little pop escapes his mouth once the hook is freed. You marvel at the progress he made. The hook end is substantially shorter and thinner than when he began.

He sniffs and tilts his chin up in pride. jingle “Your turn with that, or my turn with you?”

The cane slips back into your mouth, your fingers sticky from all the handling. You stand, kick off your heels, and climb back onto the bed on your knees. You grin as you suck on the candy.

His eyes soften. “Be careful, baby. Don’t want you to choke. Well, at least not on that.” He smirks.

He’s right. Safety first. You toss the candy onto the bedside table.

“You are so (jingle) fucking hot in that (jingle) outfit.” He grins and waggles eyebrows in anticipation. “Gonna let me down your chimney, Mrs. Claus?” jingle jingle jingle

The actions in the next few seconds are a blur. You wonder if Dean has some sort of Jedi mind control ability. Because even though you are supposed to be the one making decisions this evening, his seductively god-awful puns find you sitting on his face, reverse cowgirl. 

“You might get the golden ticket to all my secret places if you’re lucky.” Your fingers tip-toe down his chest like a grinch about to steal someone else’s presents. 

jingle jingle jingle

“Fuckin’ hell,” Dean murmurs under your skirt. Hot breath bathes your inner thighs and other areas you hope will soon be explored.

Your hands rest in the little divots created by his pelvic bones while you take his body in and plan your method of attack. You pull on the ribbon and release his cock of the bow. Then, you’re deep throating him like he’s your last meal.

Not one to be outdone at an all-you-can-eat buffet, Dean’s entire face gets in on the feast as well. Nerves respond to the tingling sensation of the residual peppermint on Dean’s lips and tongue. You shiver at the gloriously heightened sensitivity when he pulls back to blow on your pussy. “This is so much better than milk and cookies.” He moans and groans and jingles all the way. 

As much as you’re loving the taste of his precome, the velvet texture against your tongue, and the way the tip triggers a tiny gag reflex at the base of your throat, it’s time to remind him of the consequences of all that noise he’s making. You release the hard length from your mouth and try to concentrate on your own breathing during the absolute virtuoso way he’s eating you out. As much as you’d love his fingers to get in on the action, you know you’d have no control over the situation. You sigh in relief that he’s trying to adhere to some parts of the game. The pitiful, half-hearted ribbon shackling of his hands to the headboard is no match for Dean Winchester.

You steady yourself on wobbly knees and one shaky elbow. A firm grip around the base of his cock makes Dean gasp. He stills after that. In your mind’s eye, you picture the beauty of that mouth and how his luscious pink lips were slick with peppermint. You imagine how slick they are with you now. “Sorry, baby,” he murmurs and you feel him settle back onto the pillow. “I’ll be as quiet as I can. Can you blame me, though? Here I am, under your sweet little skirt, in the dark (jingle)... shit, sorry. But, you can’t drop a five-course meal in front of a starving (jingle) man and not expect him to wanna little taste.”

You squeeze his cock. “That’s part of the challenge.”

“I’m always up for a challenge. You always make me feel so good.”

You groan at the praise he bestows. Without releasing your hold, you shimmy off his chest. Channeling the prim and delicate sensibilities of Mrs. Claus, you crawl along the comforter and settle between nutcracker bow legs. With knees tucked under you and sat atop bare feet you accept him in your mouth again and get to work. 

You take in the sight of Dean inventorying your every action. He’s gripping the top of the headboard with both hands to steady his upper body. You clock that the little stinker has also managed to palm the sleigh ball in an effort to silence or, at the very least, muffle it. You consider that move cheating. But he feels so sublime that you can’t bear to part with him to voice your irritation. He’s also whispering the sweetest filth to you while he watches.

“Damn. Yeah. Those lips of yours feel so good around my cock. You take it so good, baby. Wish I could fuck that pretty little mouth of yours, but I’d definitely jingle-jangle way too much.” A tongue swipe over his top lip accentuates the glossy look of his ruby-tinted mouth in the warm light. “You really are too good to me. You give the best Christmas presents.” He stiffens further with each downstroke. “Aw, yeah. Suck it.” Your rhythm increases. “So pretty. Wanna touch you so bad.” He gasps. “Fuck, I’m gettin’ close.” jingle jingle   

You clamp around the base again and squeeze, freeze mid-swallow - your lips around the tip - as soon as he rings.

Dean squirms and grumbles.

You continue to bring him to the edge of orgasm, then halt. Your jaw is aching along with the rest of your body as time passes.

You’ve fucked Dean up in the best way possible. He’s blissed out, wound up tighter than a spring. You’ve got him begging. But his words grow into admonishments with each successive denial. “You can’t keep doing this, baby. There’s gonna be consequences. Santa’s gonna for real put you on his naughty list. Nothing but coal in your stocking,” he huffs.

You give your mouth a reprieve and stroke him. “Is that all that happens to naughty girls?”

He gnaws at his bottom lip before offering, “You really wanna find out?”

You nod.

The ribbon binding Dean to the headboard shreds with one mighty tug. He pitches the sleigh bell in the air. It jingles as it pinballs around the room. 

You gasp as he cinches those hands under your armpits and drags you up his body. He crushes his lips into yours, tastes you with his tongue. The mixture of your arousal and a hint of peppermint melts you in his arms. Then, a sudden and swift rollover pins you beneath him.

He hovers, tosses your skirt up to your chest, and wedges between your legs. His hard, heavy cock slips into your folds and glides through your wetness. “I could drag this out. Or.” It’s his turn to tease. He notches snug against your entrance. You’re surprised your muscles haven’t pulled him into you of their own accord the way your entire body spasms with need. He whispers in your ear, “Let me be your Santa, baby.”

You gasp, “And hurry down the chimney tonight.”

He groans in victory and slides in, balls deep. He thrusts. One massive hand gathers your wrists together on the pillow above your head to anchor you in place. Fingers of his other hand grip the top of the headboard. Every sway in and out of you gets more frenetic. You’re screaming his name and he’s cursing yours. 

“Good girls do what they’re told,” he states, out of breath, face reddening. His gaze locks with yours. He slows down. Releases your hands. Finds your clit amid the white fur and red velvet. Strums. Angles and hits your sweet spot deep within you with a harsh abandon. “Come.”

Minutes later, after you’ve both orgasmed, you’re curled into his chest. “That was…” you manage between heavy exhales.

“Yeah, that was awesome.” He kisses your forehead. “Every year, since I saved you from that ghost on Christmas Eve, you find a way to outdo yourself with the holiday cheer.”

“Well, you deserve it. I’m glad you can get away for a little while and get a special treat.”

He sighs. “You know, you don’t have to feel obligated to…”

You rest a finger atop his lips. “How I see it. Guy saves your life one time, you owe him the rest of yours.”

He smiles and pulls you in. “How about we just focus on tonight, yeah?”

You nod. “Merry Christmas, Dean.”

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

[mariacallous]

Elon Musk’s lawyers claimed that he “does not use a computer” in a Sunday court filing related to his lawsuit against Sam Altman and OpenAI. However, Musk has posted pictures or referred to his laptop on X several times in recent months, and public evidence suggests that he owns and appears to use at least one computer.

Musk and his artificial intelligence startup xAI sued OpenAI in February 2024, alleging the company committed breach of contract by abandoning its founding agreement to develop AI “for the benefit of humanity,” choosing instead “to maximize profits for Microsoft.”

The Sunday court filing was submitted in opposition to a Friday filing from OpenAI, which accused Musk and xAI of failing to fully comply with the discovery process. OpenAI alleges that Musk’s counsel does not plan to collect any documents from him. In this weekend’s filing, Musk’s lawyers claim that they told OpenAI on June 14 that they were “conducting searches of Mr. Musk’s mobile phone, having searched his emails, and that Mr. Musk does not use a computer.”

Musk and xAI Corp’s lawyers did not immediately respond to requests for comment. In the filing, Musk's legal team disputed claims that it was resisting discovery efforts.

Multiple employees at X tell WIRED that while Musk primarily works from his mobile phone, he has occasionally been seen using a laptop.

Musk has also made public statements in the recent past about computers he appears to own. In December 2024, Musk posted a picture of a laptop on X with a caption that begins, “This is a pic of my laptop.” The post, made in reply to a 15-minute stream of a game from the Diablo video game series, claims that he was “testing Starlink streaming while in flight,” suggesting that he was possibly using the laptop for professional purposes. Musk has streamed more than 10 times since August 2024, showing what appears to be the desktop layout of the game, usually saying that he is doing so to test Starlink’s streaming capacity.

Musk has also made more recent references to what appears to be the same laptop. In May 2025, Musk said on X that he is “still using my ancient PC laptop with the @DOGE sticker made long ago by a fan.” The post was in reply to a user who asked what his gaming set-up is and whether it’s a “full gaming PC.” That user had been replying to a different 15-minute stream of Diablo.

The picture Musk posted in reply shows a black laptop with Aero branding, a style of computer that typically runs Windows and is popular with gamers, with a sticker of a dollar bill edited in homage to the memecoin “Doge.” (The memecoin later appears to have inspired the name of the so-called Department of Government Efficiency.) Musk says in the same post that the laptop is three years old and that the sticker was given to him by a man in Germany.

Earlier, on February 25, 2024, Musk claimed in a post on X that he had “just bought a new PC laptop” but said that he was unable to use it without creating a Microsoft account, which he didn’t want to do. He implied that he did not want to allow the company’s AI to get access to his computer. (Windows 11, the most recent Microsoft operating system, has several AI-powered features for certain devices. At least one of these features that was announced in early 2024 learns from a user’s activity history.) The next day, he replied to an X post from Microsoft chair and CEO Satya Nadella reiterating his complaint from the previous day.

“Satya, I don’t mean to be a pest, but please allow people setting up a new Windows PC to skip creating a Microsoft account,” Musk said.

In November 2022, during his tumultuous takeover of Twitter (now known as X), the mogul posted a picture of what appears to be a computer screen showing the interface of Mastodon, a rival federated social network. Musk later deleted the post.

In a response to a question about his choice of computer in July 2021, Musk wrote on X that he uses a “PC desktop with latest graphics card, although I have a Mac too. Gigabyte laptop.”

Musk’s office in the Eisenhower Executive Office Building in Washington appeared to contain a gaming PC. A photo of the PC is partially visible in a March video stream of the All-In Podcast, during which venture capitalist and podcast cohost David Friedberg showed photos he took during a visit to Washington, DC.

OpenAI declined to comment and referred WIRED to its own filings related to the ongoing lawsuit.

[sgiandubh]

It's the same because you still cannot answer the basic question, why? Why hide for 11 years? Why would she fake a husband and child for the past 9 of those 11 years? When I came to the show in 2019, I saw their names without a clue who they were. The show had been aired since 2014. No one in my circle, or job was talking about them or the show. When I brought it up no one knew who, what, I was talking about. I am in the key demographic of OL. According to you and people like you, they and he were so popular, and had had an image of available Sam to sell to get him into big roles, so he couldn't be with his costar AND it was to promote the show. Well 5 years into the show, it was a fringe show, and 11 years later they are D list and C list actors, not well known. Why not only keep a relationship hidden, but go to the extreme lengths you claim to keep it hidden? It is not logical. You are not logical. The thngs that make you go hmmm are not real to fuel your need to keep your idea of Jaime and Claire being real, which they are not. Wish I could be sorry for you, but considering how nasty and stalkers you and she and people like you have been, actors and fans to keep your fantasy going, it's time for your rude awakening.

Dear Why Anon,

Honey - I know exactly who the fuck you are. You keep on asking the same cretin questions in ALL the comment threads of Mordor, over and over and over again. I think you are either a very bored housewife or a 15 year old nerd.

That child you are referring to is 3 years old, not 9. Get your facts together before talking crap with arrogant confidence.

This blogger never maintained S and C were married. You bark at the wrong (well-informed) door, because you are desperately, tragically stupid, like that.

Nobody from the shipper side has ever been nasty to SC and the OL cast. No shipper has ever stalked them (I am a lawyer, I know perfectly well what I am saying and I am talking from a legal point of view, because I know you mean 'covfefe pics' - you are Nobody). May I also remind you no legal action has ever been taken against anyone of our side? Can you say the same about your luminaries, as far as being nasty and stalking, including online? If anything, it is you, people who harass C every time she meets fans, with your stupid questions about T. You are treated with white lies every single time and I think it is only fair.

You will not have any answers from me, because you are an idiot with an empty agenda. However, you will have a question, the same as the one you asked: why? If you are so sure of your spiel, why do you go berserk every single time you are challenged by facts you apparently are so quick to dismiss?

[scoobydoodean]

losing my entire marbles at deancrits saying he's abusive bc he was parentified like????? a) do you know what parentification IS and b) tell me you dont have real problems without telling me

anw heres a pretty pic of dean w glasses that im obsessed with to help cope w all the anons

DEAN IN GLASSES!!!!

Someone just put it very very plainly in Courtney's inbox, but we all knew Dean's parentification was the force underlying the take that Dean has power over Sam... didn't we? ...I mean. I guess I can't speak for anyone else exactly, but I've written about how Dean's parentification is the driving force behind the narrative that Dean is abusive several times this year alone. In fact, before that anon clarified their meaning, I'd already done it for them.

Hardcore samgirls and others with this take on Dean seem to think Deangirls just "don't understand" the "power imbalance" in play. They think we've just never thought about their perspective, but... they actually just don't understand ours? They don't understand that what is absolutely vile and repulsive about their view is that it begins and ends with the perpetuation of Dean's childhood abuse.

One of the greatest horrors of parentification as a form of abuse is that it involves the illusion of power. It ascribes "power" to a child that that child does not actually have, and then judges that child for mishandling that "power".

"Something Wicked" is a great example of this. John blames Dean for Sam getting hurt, based on a lie that Dean had the power to stop the shtriga. In reality, Dean couldn't have done anything even if he'd been there, because the idea that he had power was nothing more than an illusion. He was far too young and inexperienced to be expected to carry through with a seasoned soldier's battle temperament when faced with a terrifying monster, but that isn't even the most direct expression of the illusion of Dean's power. His shotgun is. To harm a shtriga, you have to have iron-consecrated bullets. Dean did not have a weapon that could have harmed the shtriga. The gun only provides an illusion of power. When John blamed him, and Dean blamed himself—both did so because of a lie that Dean had power in a situation where Dean had absolutely none.

John blames Dean because he doesn't want to take responsibility for his own power and authority. He doesn't want to live with the fact that he had the knowledge, temperament, experience, role of protector, and consecrated bullets... but just wasn't there when Sam and Dean needed him. So he assigns all of the power and authority to Dean. Dean had the power. Dean made the wrong choices. Dean got Sam hurt. It wasn't John's choices or John's absence that nearly got Sam killed. John was helpless.

Every single time that samgirls claim Dean holds power over Sam through parentification, they refer to an illusion used to scapegoat a child for the actions of another. They assign Dean "power" over Sam that Dean does not actually have and then judge him for mishandling that "power".

The idea that Dean has authority over Sam through his childhood parentification is a lie. It is an illusion born from abuse. And when Sam occasionally decides he is unhappy with the outcome of the choices he made and doesn't want to face his own culpability, he does exactly what John did to Dean, because the poison drips down. Sam watched John treat Dean as if he possessed authority and power Dean didn't have for 18 years and some change. He learned how to assign Dean the same false authority and power and he learned Dean would absorb it, and now Samgirls want Dean to "curb that shit", while Sam blames Dean for his own choices in episodes like 1.10, 1.22, 5.04. In reality, there is no power imbalance.

Even if we want to argue that the false perception of Dean's power created the potential for an extremely toxic relationship regardless of whether the power is real or not, Dean would hardly be guaranteed the handle side of the knife. Sam has more than proven he can put that blade to Dean's throat.

[p-redux]

Good morning, peeps! Waking up to one of the Team sending me MORE confirmation that it was indeed Sam Heughan at Hyrox UK London watching Sarah Holden competing and cheering her on, yesterday, May 4, 2024. DMs posted with permission, as well as pics, and videos.

And here's the Video the Team member is referring to of Sam walking toward the area where Sarah was going to do one of her competitions. 👇

Here's another video where you can briefly see Sam having made it to the area where Sarah was set to compete. He's wearing the same outfit and cap. Top, left corner. Blink, and you'll miss him. 👇

Here's the screencap of the video in case you missed Sam in the video. 👇

And then, here's CLEAR audio of Sam's voice cheering Sarah on. He says, "Yeah, Sarah, nice!" it's at the end of the video. NO mistaking that voice. 👇

That, coupled with them being seen eating at Enoteca Rosso, also yesterday 👇 is more PROOF that #samarah is still going.

For the Anon saying that's Nic Rasenti and his wife Nicole sitting with them, um, NOPE 👆 So, Sam is sitting across his friend's wife, biting his thumb sexily, while his friend, and some other dude, are on the sidelines? 🤣 Time to get your eyes checked, Anon. In the video I posted yesterday, you can see the tables are very close together, but they're not sitting with each other.

Closer shot. 👇 Sarah wearing her hair in a ponytail like she did yesterday and wearing the big black sunglasses on her head that she wore in her IG stories.

And Sarah unwittingly confirmed she was indeed at Enoteca Rosso by posting that that she'd had pasta for lunch yesterday. 👇

And I already showed you that the red round placemats and pasta plate she posted exactly match the ones used at Enoteca Rosso, where LOTS of pasta is served. 👇

I'm not a lawyer, but I'd say that's pretty compelling evidence for #samarah together in London this weekend. I rest my case, your honor. Case closed, Edith. 🤗

Anyhoo, I haven't even had a chance yet to see what else is out there today, or if Sam competed, etc. Going to check that out now. Stay tuned...