#this trash show makes me come back to tumblr every year

[sweet-little-raven]

*Sigh* Wednesday is trending again, which means that the kiddos out there are gonna start drama again. Please just stop; this is one of the reason why the show was called cringe a year ago and people left the fandom.

1- You have the right to ship Wyler et Wavier. This is your opinion, your preference and I respect it. So why, mainly Wavier shippers, are suddenly back at attacking Wenclair shippers for no reason at all on Tumblr, Twitter and basically every single social media? What are you, 12? Is this hard to respect people's opinions???

2- Stop shipping Jenna and Emma. I'm almost certain this is the reason why we can't tag Emma on Instagram anymore. Ever since the Chappell Roan videos got out, a lot of people have made weird comments saying that they kissed or that they were on a date. Just stop. Stop shipping real people, or do it but silently. All of this is making them very uncomfortable and it's just direspectful to assume things like that. We just got them back, don't make Jenna delete Instagram again and make Emma disappear from it once again.

This just needed to be said. Just be respectful, it's not that fucking hard, goddamit. And when I mean respectful, I mean towards the fans AND the actors. Don't make Wednesday cringe again. Stop being kids and attacking other fans for absolutely no reason because you can't accept the fact that they don't ship your ship. And stop using the fucking Wenclair hashtag to say trash about them, this is getting annoying.

This is also addressed to, like me, Wenclair shippers. You should respect Wyler and Wavier shippers as well; don't give the bad example. Everyone is free to ship the characters they want, and this without any drama or violence. Just be kind to each others, it's not that hard.

Thank you for reading this. If you disagree, then just shut the fuck up because I don't have time to lose arguing with immature people on social media. I'm writing this as a reminder to respect Jenna and Emma and the fans, that's all. Y'all seriously needed a reminder.

Also, don't make Tumblr toxic. I already left Instagram and Twitter because people in here are the most toxic ever, I always loved Tumblr because people were nice, but for a week mad Wavier shippers started posting and insulting which is extremely annoying. Oh, and I also had to turn off my anonymous asks because I got very weird questions from probably bots. Don't make this app bad too, it's basically the only good one left with Pinterest.

I suppose that's all. Goodnight. And don't fucking come at me for saying this, because everything I said in here is true and I am just trying to remind people to be nice, not cause any more drama. If you say something mean here, you will be blocked immediately because, as I said, I don't have time to lose arguing with kids who can't respect an opinion.

Goodnight 🤍☮️

[uneditedidiot]

gold rush - jamie tartt x reader

jamie tartt x gn!reader

summary: reader is the head physical therapist for AFC Richmond and ever since Jamie returned to the team and has proven himself a better man, you can’t help but harbor feelings for the pro footballer. Takes place during s3ep11. Based off these specific lyrics from the song ‘gold rush’ by Taylor Swift.

word count: 2.9k

Warnings: language - it’s jamie tartt, of course there’s language; declarations of undying love and a first kiss. :)

A/N: I used to write imagines back in like 2012 about One Direction so at least this is somewhat of a step up for me. But my first tumblr imagine so hopefully it’s not complete trash lol.

Part Two: this love is ours

But I don’t like a gold rush, gold rush

I don’t like anticipating my face in a red flush

I don’t like that anyone would die to feel your touch

Everybody wants you

Everybody wonders what it would be like to love you

You were kidding yourself. 

Jamie Tartt, the star of the team, the integral cog in Richmond’s new Total Football machine, the absolute adorable human – that’s who you were in love with? It was almost laughable. If you had told yourself two years ago that Jamie Tartt would be the object of your affection, you wouldn’t have believed a word of it. He had changed. He had changed immensely.

It was…embarrassing in a way. You weren’t embarrassed of him, but more of how you reacted when he was around. And fortunately (or quite unfortunately), he was around quite a bit. As the head physical therapist for the team, you saw most of the players quite often for some reason or another.

Of course, you had no problem interacting with others for their physical care. Sam Obisanya had somehow garnered an elbow injury from playing football as a kid and it had decided to continue to bother him throughout his adulthood. He’d usually stop everyday just to chat, if not work through some stretches for his arm. Jan Maas had a tendency to go down too hard on his left knee when running, so you saw him at least twice a week to lead him through some exercises. Dani Rojas, the sweet sweet man he was, would stop by your office every single morning just to say hello and to make sure his arch support inserts in his boots were fitting right. Colin and Isaac both seemed to suffer from the same achilles tendon strains but on opposite legs. You had no problem assessing their physical needs. You went on with your day like nothing happened.

But Jamie…he was a different story. Just making eye contact when he walked into your office made your cheeks go warm. And having to move his ankle around when you were assessing range of movement? Your entire face and neck would go pink. And that smile…that smile had you giggling and kicking your feet for the rest of the afternoon. 

The sass was another issue entirely. Boy, did that man have a MOUTH on him.

When you’d first started at Richmond with Ted and Beard, who’d brought you with them from the States, Jamie was an asswipe. Sometimes he’d barely acknowledge your presence when coming to get treatment. Other times he’d just sit in silence, his eyes following your every movement. At least twice he’d come in for medical help and he’d tried flirting with you. Back then, you’d had no interest in him at all.

It was when he returned that it was clear something in him had changed. You’d observed his new restraint he showed at training and on the field during matches. He was considerate of his teammates, passing them the ball more frequently and encouraging them on and off the field. Keeley had even said she hadn’t seen him with a new girl on his arm for a long while.

But ever since his return, he’d become more and more friendly with you. You’d grown to trust him completely. He was a true friend. Not only that, but the banter you two had was unmatched.

“Do you like the new tat?” he’d asked one day as you wrapped his ankle.

“What is it supposed to be?” you’d chuckled.

He looked almost offended. “It’s a rocketship.”

You’d stood, wrap in hand, attempting to hold back a laugh. 

He sighed. “Alright, go ahead. Tell me what you really think.”

“Jamie…it…it looks like…like a dick.”

“It does not look like a dick!”

“Yes it really does.”

“You’ve got vision problems.”

“No I don’t. You’ve got some issues if you think that’s a rocketship.”

“Well so do you if you think it looks like a fuckin’ dick!”

You finally let out the laughter you’d been holding in. You had scurried to the door, thrown it open, and yelled out. “Jamie Tartt had his own dick tattooed to his forearm!”

He’d immediately jumped off the medical table and wrapped his arms around you, attempting to pull you away from the open door. You’d held on to the frame, still laughing and yelling as he did so.

“Jamie has a dick tattoo! Jamie has a dick tattoo!”

He was laughing the whole time, screaming, “no I haven’t!” over you, trying to drown out your yells.

You’d found yourself falling. His eyes would gleam and twinkle in this way that was almost comforting. You’d have done anything to see the light in his eyes again after he’d left your office. It was almost intoxicating, but in a way that felt like home. And while your real home in the States was far away, the closer you’d grown to Jamie, the less you missed it.

It was terrifying. You knew what it would mean if you said something to him; or even admitted it to yourself, frankly. 

Jamie was a very well-known figure in the UK. He was a top footballer on a premier team that was making a huge comeback that season. He’d been on a popular reality dating television show (which, sure, he made an ass of himself on but it’s in the past) which had spread his name and face across screens that may not have tuned into the matches before. It obviously didn’t help that he was, in your opinion, one of the handsomest men you’d ever seen. 

And others clearly agreed with you. The amount of thirst tweets you’d seen online about him was quite overwhelming. So many people wanted to be the one for Jamie. To hold him, love him, do things to him that you’d never heard of before reading that tweet. They found his tendency to be a prick on the field very hot. And he kept it up, that’s for sure.

Not only that, he was splashed all over the tabloid headlines when Lust Conquers All was airing. Since then, he was a frequent face on front pages of any and all gossip websites. If you were official with him, the amount of hate you’d get, grainy and unflattering pictures online, and generally mean tweets from people who found Jamie hot would be like a tsunami and you weren’t sure how you’d feel about that. Granted, he’d actually have to agree to go out with you first and that seemed so impossible…

Despite his public persona, you knew his heart. And what a wonderful heart it was. He was kind, thoughtful, and empathetic. He was considerate and made sure to take care of others before himself. He was a firework in a dim sky.

And you hated him. You hated him for making you want to be with him. Everything he did sent a shock of love and loathing down every single vertebrae in your spine. It almost hurt.

It wasn’t until the team’s fated match against Manchester City in Manchester did you see a problem. And that problem was himself. Clearly he was not himself. The thought of his father showing up at the match was weighing heavily on his mind. His self-esteem was at an all-time low and the thought of facing his old team and their incredibly intense fanbase didn’t help, either.

You’d sat next to Roy with Keely on his other side during the showing of You’ve Got Mail. You could see just from Jamie’s body language that he wasn’t himself. 

You’d sighed as Tom Hanks and Meg Ryan confessed their undying love to each other on the big projection screen. Everyone around you had shed at least one tear, including Roy, but something in you felt numb to it. You had been too busy focusing on the rigid back-of-the-head of Jamie in the front row.

You’d watched in dismay as Jamie snuck out of the room, his hood pulled up over his head. You, Roy, and Keely had followed him all the way to mom’s house. You’d sat and had a delicious cookie made by Simon, his stepfather, and then toured his old childhood bedroom.

You sat on the small twin-sized bed, taking in everything around you. Jamie was the same now as he was as a kid – living and breathing football. The posters on the wall were mainly of famous footballers, including Roy, who had cursed at the sight of his old Chelsea portrait. Even Keeley had gasped when she saw the picture of herself topless with two footballs in front of her chest next to it.

Roy and Keeley flopped down next to you on the bed. They chatted for a moment as you stared off into space.

Everything you had been harboring for Jamie – every single emotion – seemed to hit you all at once. The situation at hand forced it all to the surface.

You loved Jamie Tartt.

It brought tears to your eyes. You sniffled, quickly wiping a hand to your cheek.

“What’s wrong, babes?” Keeley asked worriedly, putting a hand on your shoulder.

You shook your head. Like she’d believe that for a second.

“Come on, out with it,” Roy demanded. “You’ve been almost as fucking miserable as Jamie this past week.”

You inhaled sharply, winding your fingers together awkwardly. Your voice was soft, trembling. “I’m in love with Jamie.”

Keeley smiled at you, then shared a knowing look with Roy.

“We know,” she replied gently.

Your eyes widened, meeting her gaze. “You do?”

“Halle-fucking-lujah,” sighed Roy. “Finally.”

“What do you mean, ‘finally?’” you retorted.

“It’s not like it’s been a fucking secret,” Roy grunted. “It’s clear you love the little prick.”

“He doesn’t…he doesn’t love me back, does he?” It was almost like you had dared yourself to even ask. What if he didn’t? What kind of hurt would that be?

You had expected Keeley to hug you sympathetically or even sigh, but instead…she giggled. “Not to break my promise or anything.” She shrugged. “Yeah. Yeah, he loves you, too.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “Okay, don’t be mean. You don’t need to make things up just to keep me from feeling rejected, Keeley.”

“She wouldn’t tell you that if it wasn’t fucking true,” said Roy. “And I know we came here for Jamie to speak with his mum, but you’d hate yourself if you didn’t fucking say something to him.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Now?”

“Now.”

Keeley agreed. “Yep, I think it’s gotta be tonight, babes. It’s perfect timing. His mum will help him feel better and you both admitting you’re in love?” She squealed and jumped up. “It’s gotta be now!”

“But he’s my best friend,” you replied quietly. “I don’t want it to ruin things.”

“It won’t ruin anything,” Roy shook his head. “If it’s meant to be…it’s fucking meant to be. Not that it’s any of my business.”

“He’s had a crush since he got back to Richmond,” Keeley added. “I know it will work out. Trust us. He’s become a new person and he’s the exact right person for you. You’re perfect for each other. I’m going to be that friend and pressure you to do this.”

You stood, if not somewhat shakily, and nodded. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

“You got this!” Keeley called after you as you exited Jamie’s childhood bedroom. 

You made your way down the small hallway and the narrow staircase, the air lingering with the scent of fresh baked goods as you descended. You could hear hushed voices coming from the living room. You tried to take soft steps as you approached the door.

“I don’t know, Mum. The best thing to ever happen to me?”

“It sounds like you’re in love.”

“But I’m scared.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you listened.

“Love isn’t supposed to be a walk in the park, Jamie. It can be scary. To put yourself out there on the line. To be vulnerable. To risk getting your heart ripped out and thrown in the rubbish.”

“I’m risking my best friend.”

“But will you regret it if you don’t?”

There was a beat of silence.

“I would die unhappy if I couldn’t tell them how I feel.”

Your feet moved before your brain could catch up. And then you saw him from right inside the doorway. His eyes. The gleaming. The twinkling. The feeling of comfortability. Of home.

He stood without taking his eyes off yours. There was a slight smile playing around his mouth. His hands went into their usual position, clasped and pulling on the bottom hem of his sweatshirt. 

Georgie also stood, but she grinned and quickly moved out of the room, saying to her son on the way out, “it’s worth it, love.”

All you could do in the moment was stand there, cheeks going pink under his gaze. 

“Erm…did you see me old bedroom?” he said sheepishly, breaking eye contact for a moment.

The start of this conversation somehow seemed to bring you back to the realm of the living. You chuckled. “Yes, I was a massive fan of the old Roy Kent poster you had up. And you know, all the small pictures of butts with thongs and such.”

It was his turn to go red. “Yeah, well, what can I say? Teenage boy hormones.”

“I don’t think it’s just teenage boy hormones, Jamie. That’s just you liking butts.”

You both shared another laugh before it went quiet again.

Now was your chance. Keeley and Roy had said Jamie was at least interested in you, so you needed to say something.

“Um…so, I…I was, uh, talking to Keeley and Roy upstairs,” you began, taking a couple steps toward him.

“Is that what you were doing? Talking? I’d have thought you might be having a threesome.”

You laughed again as he smirked proudly at his comment. But his smile faltered as you seemed to go back to a state of self-conscious anxiety. Jamie’s heartbeat sped up. Usually you would’ve come back with another witty comment.

“What were ya talkin’ about?” he wondered seriously.

“I was just telling them about this…guy I’m interested in.”

The warmth in Jamie’s eyes slowly seemed to be dying like embers of a fire slowly burning down.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. And I was telling them a little about him.”

Jamie nodded, eyes cast down at the floor. He feigned interest. “And what’s he like, then?”

You remembered what Georgie had just told Jamie moments before. Love is scary, but it’s worth the risk.

You took another step closer to him, feeling more confident now. “He’s really sweet. He’s considerate and thoughtful and is willing to learn and grow.” 

Jamie nodded again, still half-heartedly listening.

“And he’s funny and makes the best jokes. He can laugh at himself and how dumb he used to be. Although I’d laugh at myself too if I were that much of a prick once. Even turned a whole plan around at Amsterdam once, the idiot.”

His eyes were now back on yours, mouth slightly open in disbelief. The grin seemed to spread over his lips as you continued talking.

“And he’s generous and willing to take care of others despite his own needs. He puts on quite the show at his job though. Oh my god, he can be a bit of a show off, but he’s actively working on it. He always seems to get this like weird ankle injury every once in a while, too. And don’t get me started on his dumb ass tattoos. There’s this one that he says is a rocketship but I SWEAR it’s a penis and –”

“I love you.” 

Your words are put on halt by the admittance that Jamie has just put out into the world forever.

He repeated himself with confidence. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” Your declaration comes not a second after he’s spoken. And everything seems to spill out at once. “For months now. I’ve tried to hold it in, but I can’t any longer. You make me nervous, Jamie Tartt. You make me blush just by walking into the fucking room. I couldn’t stand touching you because it made my stupid fingers turn red. Your smile alone could light a thousand candles at once. Your laugh could be a grammy-award winning song. Everybody wants you, but you…you are my everything.”

All he says is your name. And then he closes the gap between you two.

His hands go to your waist, his lips find yours. Your arms wind around his neck, hands finding the base of his hairline, weaving your fingers through the strands. There is no space left between your bodies.

Your mouths move in sync, slowly and softly, with a passion you’d never experienced before.

His hand moves from your waist to cup your cheek, turning his head slightly to deepen the kiss. His other hand grasps the fabric of your t-shirt, clinging to you incessantly.

When you pull away for a second, he whispers your name in a way that sends starlight cascading through your very bones. 

“Jamie,” you whisper, “you’re my best friend and I love you and I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

He smiles. “I think your timing is perfect. Just like you.”

You move to press your lips to his again when Simon calls out from the kitchen.

“Anybody want pie?”

Georgie makes a reappearance in the doorway. She shrieks in delight. “See, love? I told you! What did I tell you?”

She wrestles you away from Jamie and gives you the biggest and tightest hug of your life.

“Mum, you’re gonna squish ‘em!” Jamie protests good-naturedly, pulling back on your shoulder. He slings an arm around your waist, keeping you close.

You knew Jamie would be okay at tomorrow’s match even if his dad did show up. 

You loved each other. And that was all he needed.

[lonelypep]

hi tumblr

ive been rewatching gravity falls and i thought it would be funny to recap certain events in the show with no context whatsoever

-dipper sings dancing queen by abba with a mutant bear he was about to kill.

-stan, a man in his 60-70s, lectures a child on how to formulate an evil plan. (the child is 4 years old, stans rival, and having a mental breakdown because stan's granchildren are in his armpits)

-dipper gets literally mauled by a wolf and decides its better than going to his sister's sleepover.

-larry king gets decapitated.

-kids break in to a convenience store where one of them gets high out of her mind on cheap illegal ice cream (normal tuesday for these kids)

-kids find out about the 8th and a half president: who made the first all-baby supreme court.

-grunkle stan wins the football bowl. he taught the footballers and their gloating friends a lesson. he wins a football winning trophy, and a beautiful woman aptly named beautiful woman. but he couldnt have done it, any of it, without his sidekick footbot.

-soos is canonically afraid of british dog men. hes so real for that honestly.

-ARE YOU SICK OF PILES OF OWLS CONSTANTLY BLOCKING YOUR DRIVEWAY?! WELL THEN YOU GOTTA GET OWL TROWEL

-youre laughing. people are sick of piles of owls constantly blocking their driveway and youre laughing.

-the only on screen character death, with the exception of bill, is that of big henry, who sacrificed himself by taking a golf ball to the other side of the mine. the protagonists never learn this.

-soos turns into clay and starts breaking the laws of the universe. so stan kills him with a radio.

-two kids travel back in time and crush toby's musical theatre dreams.

-"dudebro" became a mainstay in my regular vocabulary for two years because of this show.

-grunkle stan teaches a bear how to drive. he almost gets arrested in this episode. not for teaching a bear how to drive but because of tax fraud.

-soos' stomach emits whale noises.

-mcgucket has apparently exploded an entire downtown city because his pal earnie didn't come to his retirement party. justified tbh

-stan starts booing some little kids because they told their grandpa they loved him

-let me just set the scene for a sec here: its 2016. its a beautiful summer day, where the hazy nostalgia of a music festival fills your eyes, your ears, and the uneasy excitement of love in the hot summer air makes every second better than the last. suddenly, a gigantic flaming head of a man saying "i eat kids" descends upon you from the sky. the graphic horror is something youll never forget. the grotesque image of people in terror at this gargantuan mass of flaming flesh. it burns into your eyes. is this it for you? you see a child, clueless to the situation, ask his mother his final words: is the giant flaming head going to eat us? she says yes. as it consumes you, you cry a single tear. im done being dramatic but this did happen

-beautiful men eat out of stan's trash (this apparently happens consistently)

-youre laughing. darn beautiful men are always eating out of his trash and youre laughing.

-stan strips on public television.

-gourney gets eaten by a halloween monster. he is only freed when soos eats the monnster.

-the gravity falls universe has a public television program where babies fight each other.

-grunkle stan tries to burn aforementioned four year old nemesis alive.

-ok not really but he tries to blind him at least which is still pretty bad.

-grunkle stan tries to steal an animatronic badger

-mabeland has a government entirely run by mabel. this makes mabel an autocratic fascist. sorry i dont make the rules.

-soos' mom turns into a chair.

-theres a character named toot toot mc bumblesnazzle, who plays a banjo. go ahead and guess his narrative importance. if you guess cult leader, correct!

-neil degrasse tyson plays a pig.

and last but certainly not least, stan has illegally shipped pugs across the us border.

[marvelous-slut]

Daddy Issues - Dmitri Antonov x female! reader

warnings: p in v, female implied reader, daddy issues to the max, didn’t really proof read this?? age gap, reader is 18 but in high school

not my first go around on the smut/fanfic side of tumblr but it is for stranger things & it’s been a while, I hope you folks enjoy my late night horny thoughts of this beautiful man

“love you kid, i’ll be at joyce’s tonight for a birthday dinner, you and dmitri come over.” you crumble the note and throw it in the floor, holding back tears. you loved your father jim hopper dearly, but since he returned from russia with joyce & a man you first knew as enzo, things were different.

“yeah every year we do this, we get each other a cheesy gift and bake a cake with those stupid candles that don’t blow out.” you say excitedly to jonathan, your possibly soon to be step brother. he kept quiet, knowing hopper would be at his home this evening celebrating his birthday, not with his daughter.

you run up to your room after you trash the meaningless note in the garbage. you find the shortest skirt in your wardrobe, some fishnets and a long sleeve crop top. by the time you change, your fathers new russian friend is out of the shower, ready to leave himself. he looks up to see how your dressed, very different from what he’s seen before. he immediately tries thinking of something else so his raging hard on doesn’t show.

“you ready?” you ask, grabbing the keys and heading out the door.

the two of you arrive at the byers home, you knew your father was going to have a shit fit when he saw how you were dressed. at this point, you didn’t care. if he was going to leave you hanging for a woman, why wouldn’t you act out? dmitri was silent the entire ride, thinking of how inappropriate it would be if he slid his hands under your skirt and finger fucked you. as soon as you walked through the door, it was on.

“hey hon-, what the fuck are you wearing?” he asks, harshly. you plop down on the couch.

“clothes dad, happy birthday by the way.” you reply cold, jonathan swallows the lump in his throat. he had never seen so much skin from you, but he wasn’t complaining. dmitri walks to the table, knowing things were about to go south.

“why are you dressed that way?” you see the anger in his eyes, disappointment as well. no disappointment could compare to what you felt this evening after reading his bullshit note. “did you wear that shit to school?” you laugh, standing up, pulling the skirt up as you did.

“do you really think if i did jonathan would have mentioned it? i mean he’s like a dog in heat right now and i’m just sitting here.” jonathan’s face turns red as a tomato, joyce comes from the kitchen.

“hey! don’t talk about my son like that!” she exclaims, hopper defending her. you feel your chest heating up with anger.

“oh i forgot, you’re my new mommy joyce! i have to listen to everything you say huh? sorry he’s barley keeping it in his pants over there. hey speaking of mommy, i’m moving back in with mine. fuck this!” you exclaim, shooting out the door and making sure to slam it on the way out. hopper apologizes to joyce, dmitri gets up from the table and tells hopper he will make sure you get home to cool off, and he keeps his promise.

“come on,” he says, looking down on you crying on the steps, placing his jacket around you knowing you had to be freezing. “let’s go

home.”

the whole ride home you cry, you didn’t mean to but you tell dmitri everything as if he’s your personal therapist and he listens and he understands. he feels angry with hopper, his son was back in russia and he couldn’t do anything about it for the time being, hoppers child was right in front of his face and he choses a woman over her. “i don’t know what hurts me more, the fact that he gave up something that was special to me or that he sent you to chase me after i melt down.” finally you two arrive back at home, he places his hand on your thigh, comforting you.

“let’s go inside.” once inside, something in you snapped. you look at dmitris figure, thinking of how you wanted him on top of you. you walk over to him, brushing your body against his.

“thanks for playing daddy for me.” this sends him into a spiral, he knows it’s wrong. the man who helped him get out of russia, gave him a place to live and he was going to fuck his daughter.

dmitri backs you against the wall, his bare cold hands running up your thigh. finally reaching the pathetic excuse for underwear you have on.

“you really had your father upset tonight,” he says, pushing your laced thong to the side, teasing your entrance with his finger, “i never thought such a sweet girl like you could do that.” you leaned your head back, silently begging him to finger fuck your eager cunt, there was no way he didn’t feel the wetness between your folds.

“what can i say?” you ask, mind fuzzy still not believing this is happening.

“i think someone has daddy issues.” he slips a cold finger into your throbbing pussy, making your back arch against the wall, a small moan escaping your lips. he sees how much pleasure this brings you and adds another finger, slowly pumping. “you want someone to take care of you, to protect you, to love you. someone who won’t disappoint you.” he whispers before pressing his lips against your neck, you whimper as he’s pumping his fingers in and out of you. “am i wrong?” he stops, waiting on you to reply.

“i- i. no, no you’re not.” he grins and starts moving his fingers again. using his other hand, he gently grabs a handful of your hair, slamming his lips against yours, sliding his tongue into your desperate mouth.

“good.” he pulls his fingers out, slipping them slowly into your mouth, making you taste your juices. “i’ll do that for you.” before you know it, you two are in his guest bedroom, he pulls you to the bed laying you down on your back, spreading your legs as far as they will go, pulling his jeans and boxers down in one swift motion revealing his throbbing cock. bigger than any other you had seen, which wasn’t shocking considering that number was very low.

“you taste fucking sweet,” he says, licking his fingers, “just like candy.” he uses his saliva to coat his cock, gently gliding it into your slick cunt. your back arches and you let out an ungodly moan. his hand finds it’s way to your neck, softly gripping it.

“who’s girl are you angel?” he thrusts into you slowly, his cock stretching you out even more than you imagined was possible.

“yours, i’m yours daddy.” the word drives him absolutely insane. he pulls your tits out of the skimpy shirt you wore, kneading one with his hand, his other hand playing with your clit.

“that’s right, you’re mine.” he whispers, his lips against your neck again, careful not to leave any marks as bad as he wanted to. you dug your nails into his back, not being able to hold back. it felt entirely too good having him inside of you. “this sweet tight pussy is all mine.” you feel your stomach start to knot up, grabbing onto the sheets desperately.

“you’re close aren’t you?” he asks, laughing and hurrying his face into your shoulder. you barley get out a yes before you feel yourself coming undone.

“please keep fucking me, right there. oh my god.” you scream out. “i’m gonna fucking cum.”

“Cum angel.” the words push you to the edge, he finishes right behind you.

“What the fuck is this?” your heart sinks, hearing your fathers voice boom through the room.

[kurczeno]

ok so a little rant about DA:V, because I feel like it needs to be said. First a disclaimer: if you are hyped, thats good for you, really. Enjoying the final product is absolutely fine. However, I've seen SO MANY people, especially here on tumblr, but also on tiktok and reddit acting as if any criticism of the game is just people being mean haters or homophobic.

And don't get me wrong - there are probably people taking things too far, just for the sake of it. There are also people mad about the wokeness - though as a person that is very interested in the topic, I've seen only one? discussion about this matter and it wasn't even made by people that like the series, they just wanted to complain about wokeness in games, etc.. But I'm not saying these people don't exist, because I haven't seen them.

However I am seeing so many valid criticism of the game being discredited for no reason and I feel like there is at least one thing that needs to be said.

I played Origins over 20 times. DA2 and DA:I - also more than once, but I didn't count it. I loved all of them - even the Inquisition, despite its many flaws. But it's not a post about them - the thing is, I am a fan of a series. I've been since I was little and later I got that stupid hyperfixation. I was extremely excited about the game, despite SO MANY red flags - I'd say it's still Dragon Age and I'm sure it won't be that bad.

But at this point even I can't cope that hard.

First of all - it's barely Dragon Age at this point. I just want you to remmeber that most of the staff that was working on the first three games got fired or resigned themselves. The LEAD WRITER himself, David Gaider (he's incredible btw, go follow him on twitter and play stray gods!!!) has been trashing Bioware on TT for years and he's been there for 12 years. He tried to highlight just how badly the company treats its workers - and it's not only Bioware, it's gamedev in general. I have many friends that work in gamedev and whenever we talk about situations like this their reaction is "yeah, but thats what happens in gamedev every half a year". You know, it's so bad, we just treat it as a standard. Why am I bringing all this up? Because I think that countering every argument with "you haven't played the game yet" or, even worse "people are only complaining because woke" is just buying into their narrative, taking the responsibility from them. When the truth is that every single teaser looks, to say the least, outdated. The graphics are very, very bad, the designs are mid at best (I'd single out Neve and technically? Emmerich, but he looks horrible because of the graphics, so...), the reps show that they know little about Dragon Age (I'm in love with that one recording in which they collectively barely remember Zevran. The companion in the most beloved game. The guy that is basically the only source of info we get about the Crows. The Crows that are a fraction in their game???), they have already stated that your choices don't matter. I can elaborate on each of these, but the post is already to long and my point is different - don't excuse Bioware. And I'm sorry, but "play the game first" shouldn't be the argument here, because the things that should be good, regardless of the game itself fail - I'm sorry, but this isn't an indie game. It's made by a huge company, with loads of money after two commercial flops. I know some of you (including me!) are nostalgic towards Bioware, because of their games and what they meant back in the day, really. But at the end of the day, the games were made by people and Bioware is just a company. A big corporation, that just wants to make money, has a long history of mistreating their employees and has delivered the worst teasers I've seen in a long time.

TLDR: I'm not trying to tell you, you are wrong to be excited. I'm just kindly asking you to stop coming to Bioware's defense at all costs, because they don't deserve it.

(also I know David himself has reacted to the teasers and reviewed them in a positive way but I am talking mostly about the things that I blame on higherups. However I personally think that Gaider, as someone who's worked in the industry knows that there are many people there that ARE actually passionate about the product. Not the reps, please, they are embarassing, but the animators, writers, etc. And trashing their work as a lead writer of the first games would be a little too much, even if the final thing is not their fault. They don't need any more shit)

[antigone-ks]

Lantern of Evil

It's been almost 5 years since I posted this on AO3, so I thought it was time to clean up some typos and put it onto Tumblr.

MASTERLIST

Summary:

“You’re in a good mood today,” Natasha commented, holding the phone steady as Tony and Sam devolved into a slap fight. “Haven’t seen you smile this much since, y’know.”

“This is quality entertainment,” Steve said. “You don’t get this every day.”

“No you do not.” She turned the phone toward Bucky, who whistled as he sprinkled sea salt over the meat. He looked up, winked directly at her, then tossed the rest of the seasoning like a long-haired Salt Bae.

“But you seemed pretty chipper when you snuck back in before the show started.”

***

Or, Steve gets de-serumed and falls in love over art, old movies, and taxi dances.

Rating: E for Explicity, Eventually

Tags: Steve Rogers/Reader; Plus Size Reader; Natasha Romanov (Marvel); Tony Stark; Sam Wilson (Marvel); James "Bucky" Barnes; background Bucky/Nat - Freeform; Skinny Steve Rogers; Pre-Serum Steve Rogers; Post-Serum Steve Rogers; De-Serumed Steve Rogers; all of the combinations of serums and Steves; Slow Burn; Awkward Flirting; Awkward reader; Awkward Steve Rogers; neither of these goobers know what they're doing; shameless Letterkenny reference; False Identity; horrible misunderstandings; love in art galleries; love on bridges; love on front porches; will earn rating in later chapters; I hope; inappropriate use of a history degree; Short Reader; Profanity; Fluff; Angst; Fluff and Angst; Smut; Oral Sex; Vaginal Fingering; Making Out; definitely third base; not all-the-way parking but pretty close; Biting; Cunnilingus; Fellatio; Vaginal Sex; Steve wants to be clear that this isn't fucking; Making Love

Chapter One: The Greens of June

And all the greens of June/ Come blowing through the door/ They make me want to live/ Like I never have before

____________________

You settled onto the bench, bag on the floor. The museum had barely opened – a bad sign; it meant you were either blocked or stir-crazy. Or both. Both was bad. You’d had the museum on your list of things-to-do-if-you-had-time, but when you’d first come to town you’d expected that there would never be time. You were getting the change of scenery and relief from responsibilities that you’d always wanted, so of course you never imagined that the same old problems would plague you.

Namely, writer’s block. Imposter Syndrome. “Every word I write is trash and I should sleep in the dumpster”-itis.

You’d gotten this amazing opportunity to take a sabbatical, move half a continent away, and just research the hell out of your magnum opus, a stroke of historical genius. Or what would be your magnum opus, if you could get the damn thing off the ground. Right now it was stuck at brevi opus.

Opus minimis.

You had piles of research, and a good starting point, but you either got stuck on the writing of it or spent days on end organizing the data until the sun coming in the curtains made you feel like a Morlock crawling out of its hole.

So you’d hit the museum.

It’d actually been working pretty well for you, the last few weeks, and you’d started making it part of your routine. Rather than wait for the Bad Times to force you out of the house, you’d come down every two or three days and just . . . pick something. A painting, a sculpture, whatever caught your eye, and you’d study it until your mind felt clear. Sometimes your mind would wander far enough afield that it circled back to your work, and you’d excitedly jot down a new avenue to explore or a turn of phrase you liked. Sometimes you got nothing but a peaceful feeling. Either way, it was good for you, and the initial guilt you’d felt at not being Productive At All Times had faded.

It sort of was productive, anyway. You told yourself so.

For the last couple of visits, you’d sat with Hamilton’s Joan of Arc and the Furies. It was Shakespeare’s Joan, about to be captured by the English and burned for heresy. It’s not . . . good . . . you think, you don’t like it, but there’s something about it. It’s like two different paintings in one, dark and bright, overbearing and reticent.

There aren’t many people around yet, no kiddie camp visits today, so you’re alone in this part of the gallery. The docents are used to you by now, and don’t bother eagle-eyeing you. You lean your chin on your hand and stare hard at Joan, at her Merveilleuse gown, which, like, didn’t Hamilton know she wore pants? Like, famously? But anyway.

“You know,” a deep voice said, “I’ve always wondered what’s going on with the light down by that first fury. What does it symbolize?”

You look over your shoulder at the speaker, a slightly-built blond man with a sketchbook under his arm. He’d shown up a couple of times before, wandering around with more purpose than the average tourist, like he knew which pieces he liked and why. He had a delicate face and serious eyes with just ridiculous lashes. You smiled uncertainly.

“Like, where even is it coming from? Under her skirt?” you ask, and he looks down at you and whoa nelly those are very blue eyes and chuckles.

“Is it the lantern of justice?” he says, quirking an eyebrow.

“Probably not in Shakespeare. Maybe a lantern of evil.”

“She keeps a lantern of evil in her skirt?” He’s smiling openly at you now, and it’s a really nice smile, and that’s the only excuse you have for what comes out of your mouth next.

“Lantern of evil – in my pants!” you chirp, grinning.

His eyebrows shot up and he gave an incredulous hah.

“Like, like the game?” you say hurriedly. “Where you add ‘in my pants’ to a quote, or a movie title?” You can hear your voice rising nervously and fiddle with your glasses to avoid looking at him. “One ring to rule them . . . in my pants?”

He’s laughing now – probably more at you than at the joke – but it’s enough to relax you a little bit.

“I have never played that game,” he said, eyes dancing. “But I know just the person to try it with. I’ve seen you here before,” he went on, glancing back at the painting. The tips of his ears went very pink.

“Yeah, this is turning into my happy place when work’s not going so well.” You look at Joan again and clear your throat. “I think I saw you, too . . . maybe Sunday?” Not that I noticed you. I’m not a creeper. I notice nothing. I can barely see.

He nodded and shrugged. “Probably, yeah. I’ve been here a lot over the past week.”

“Work got you down, too?” you ask. He kind of purses his lips and nods. Taking a breath, you gesture to the empty half of the bench. “Want to share Joan with me? She’ll take your mind off it.”

His smile is a slow, gentle thing, and even though you say nothing more until it’s time to leave, you feel warmer for sitting near him.

***

“Because they’ll clog up the drain.” Tony’s voice is clipped.

“They get rid of odors,” Natasha points out.

“So it was you.”

“You think I drink that light roast nonsense?” She looks up as Steve enters, the light of battle in her eyes. Well, the light of annoying Tony. It’s not hard. “Weak.”

“Now you’re a coffee snob, Romanoff? You – “ Tony points a pair of tongs at Steve “ – do some reconnaissance, rally the troops, whatever it is you do, and catch this villain.”

Steve clucks his tongue and fails to hide a grin. “Coffee grounds again? You know, we could just get a Keurig and solve that problem easily.” He ducks as both Tony and Natasha turn on him, allied in outrage.

“Just for that,” Tony says, “you get whichever steak I overcook.”

Steve eyes the barstools at the island. He can get into them now, but it involves just enough scrambling that it hurts his dignity. No one said anything the first time he did it, not even Tony, and that was somehow worse than teasing would have been. He’s not broken, for God’s sake. He’s a man of temporarily reduced stature. It’ll be fixed in no time, Bruce and Tony and Helen have promised, but . . .

He’d read a book once that described a gnome as a person whose ‘belligerence was compressed into a body six-inches high and, like many things when they are compressed, had an inclination to explode.’[1] Steve didn’t consider himself belligerent – although he had the urge to cross himself in penance and hope that Bucky was in a different building when he thought it – but he did feel like every human emotion was currently packed into a body too small to hold it all. This body didn’t fit, except that it did, and Steve honestly wasn’t sure which feeling was worse.

He leaned against the counter with – he hoped – an insouciant air and nodded at Tony. “’s long as I can gnaw through it.”

“Are you impugning my grilling skills, Rogers?”

“Wait, you’re gonna grill those?” Sam and Bucky entered the kitchen, apparently fresh off a sparring match. Sam’s skin glistened with sweat, and Bucky wasn’t much better off. Sam might not have super serum in his veins, but he wasn’t a pushover in the ring.

“How else d’you cook ‘em?” Bucky asked, wrinkling his nose at Sam.

“You sear ‘em on the stovetop in a cast-iron skillet,” Sam said, holding up one finger, “finish ‘em in the oven,” two fingers, “serve with a garlic-herb butter.” Three fingers, waved in Bucky’s face.

Natasha leaned on the counter next to Steve and pointed her phone toward the argument. “Every time,” she whispered, hitting "record."

“Every time,” Steve answered.

“In the oven? Cook like a man, Sam!”

“Grill makes ‘em too dry,” Sam insisted.

“Hey!” Tony snapped his tongs at Bucky. “My meat. My rules.” He straightened his shoulders under Sam’s withering look. “On the grill, flip once a minute for the good grill marks.”

“That’s overhandling.” Sam’s tone suggested he was heading straight to church to light all of the candles for Tony’s soul.

“Wait – everyone, wait,” Steve broke in. Natasha quirked her lip at him, annoyed that he was ruining the show. He winked at her. “The real issue here is, aren’t you gonna season those things?”

“Yeah, where’s the salt and pepper, bud?” Bucky asked.

“Don’t start with me,” Tony warned.

“Where’s the steak spice,” Sam asked, rummaging through the cupboards. “I made you a steak spice months ago. My own blend, Tony. I gifted it to you. I’m not eating one of your bland-ass steaks again.” Tony abandoned the meat in favor of bodily hauling Sam away from the cupboards, giving Bucky time to grind at least a little peppercorn on each of the steaks.

“ – my steaks alone!” “ – killing the flavor, man. Killing the flavor!” “ – oversalting!” “ – can’t cook ‘em right, you leave it to someone who can!”

“You’re in a good mood today,” Natasha commented, holding the phone steady as Tony and Sam devolved into a slap fight. “Haven’t seen you smile this much since, y’know.”

“This is quality entertainment,” Steve said. “You don’t get this every day.”

“No you do not.” She turned the phone toward Bucky, who whistled as he sprinkled sea salt over the meat. He looked up, winked directly at her, then tossed the rest of the seasoning like a long-haired Salt Bae.

“But you already seemed pretty chipper when you snuck back in before the show started.”

Steve’s eyes were wide with injured innocence. “Snuck? Back in? I –“

“Can it. I don’t care – probably no one will recognize you – but if Tony finds out he’s going to turn into Chicken Little about security.”

“Tony can go lay an egg,” Steve said firmly, making Natasha snort with real laughter.

She sighed. “As hilarious as this is, I’m getting hungry." her voice carried across the kitchen. "Knock it off of or I’m calling Rhodey in.”

Tony straightened, Sam’s arm still around his neck. “Betrayal, Romanoff. I feel betrayed.”

“Yeah, no calling in the brass,” Sam complained. “We can settle this on our own.”

“Better settle that meat on the grill before the others get here,” Steve said. “Want help?”

“Excuse me,” Tony said, affronted. “I can handle the meat.”

The words left Steve’s mouth before he could stop them “ – in my pants?”

Natasha dropped the phone.

____________________

[1] Terry Pratchett, The Fifth Elephant

case/lang/viers – “Greens of June”

And all the greens of June/ Come blowing through the door/ They make me want to live/ Like I never have before

Read Chapter Two

[slightlyaggressiveaffirmations]

So, Slightly Aggressive Affirmer, what's your whole deal?

Great question, Clive.

(Sorry, I thought you were some sort of chat show host called Clive. Let me readjust my worldview)

Great question, friends. Why did I write Aggressive Affirmations in a consistently reliable, ritual manner for 5 years and then stop doing it and constantly keep coming back and promising to start again and never making good on it?

Well. There are actually 3 answers to that question.

.

Answer #1

To begin with, let's reposition our worldview - just as we did with Clive. Now, let's change the way we see me, The Slightly Aggressive Affirmer. What if we put a new filter over me - we'll call it the "Autism Filter". I haven't got the money to go through the diagnosis process but it's looking pretty likely.

With that filter on, look again at my being absolutely focused on writing affirmations for 5 years and then stopping to suddenly focus obsessively on my research work for the next 2 or 3 - except for the two months I took off to sit on the porch every single day and write a medieval romance novel.

Now I want to get back into affirming again and I try to - I still feel it's important and I keep saying to myself I'll do it - but I just don't have that obsessive drive to do it anymore.

I think if we look at this with the autism filter, it starts to paint a pretty clear picture of what might be going on here...

.

Answer #2

It became more and more difficult, and more high stakes to write affirmations, as the number of followers kept growing. There are now 15000 - although who knows how many of you are still on Tumblr? But that's a lot of responsibility and it became very stressful to keep making sure SAAs are for everyone and that no one feels excluded by them (excepting people who should always be excluded, like Nazis). When it was just a few random people reading affirmations, it was much easier to chuck in a few and whatever. But the more the blog grew, the greater the stress.

.

Answer #3

I started writing Slightly Aggressive Affirmations for myself. I was the only one following the blog and it was set to send ME reminders of my own value - in the kind of aggressive language necessary to get through to me - because I was extremely low on confidence and needed real force to get it in to my head. But then things snowballed.

Thing is - I don't need them any more. It's harder to think of the kinds of things I should write, because I know longer need them myself. I have Slightly Aggressively Affirmed myself to a really great place, in terms of my self confidence and self love. I still have bipolar, and right now my life isn't going so great, so I get depressed but I do not believe fundamentally, at my core, that I am bullshit trash.

My primary emotion nowadays is possibly worse! I'm driven by anger a lot of the time - I've got a lot of deep rage, caused by long ago trauma. (I'm in therapy, don't worry). But I think most people would agree that I'm a fundamentally different person to who I was pre-pandemic. I'll tell you more about it some time. But I am drastically different - and definitely more than SLIGHTLY aggressive most of the time.

.

In conclusion, I believe affirming used to be an autistic special interest of mine and now it is not - but I'd love to make it one again! Especially now my two-year long, 65 000 word research project is finished. But it's much harder to get back to where I was, because the number of followers I have now is different, Tumblr is different and I am hugely different as a person.

Thankyou for reading this short essay/memoir. I'll see what I can do about a little affirming tomorrow.

Always remember that YOU MATTER!!! YOU ARE IMPORTANT!!! YOU ARE THE ONLY FUCKING YOU IN THE WHOLE DAMN WORLD!!! THINK ABOUT HOW FUCKING MAGICAL THAT IS!!!

[carefulfears]

As someone fascinated by David Duchovny’s movie filmography from a distance, I have to ask what it’s like for you in the trenches. What’s been your favorite and least favorite movies he’s been in? Did you watch the secret? Were there any movies you thought were bad that he was inexplicably good in? You’re gods bravest soldier.

OMG this is like my favorite question i've ever gotten, thank you so much for asking me this. i was just saying privately that i feel kinda bad coming back on tumblr rn when i've spent so so much time and energy studying duchovny's work (i could write a literal dissertation. might.) that it's really the lens i see everything through right now and all i wanna talk about lol...so y'all please feel free if there's anything you're ever curious about or want me to expand on, to ask.

i started this little project after receiving a difficult medical diagnosis, when i really needed a project in the midst of doctor appointments and painful, traumatizing life changes. i didn't tell anyone what i was going through for 4 months, so i couldn't really talk about what my days were like, and really just needed something else...i started watching californication 3 days after finding out, and just really loved it. that show means so much to me, in so many ways, and i didn't expect it to.

and it just kind of went from there, i loved seeing him work in cali. it was something so crazy and brilliant and almost electrifying to see this performer really in it, and plugged in, and interested, and invested, in a way that you can see on the x-files but not at the same consistency and intensity. everywhere that he was sometimes indifferent or bored or inexperienced as mulder, he's doubly hitting every mark as hank moody. it's more than a series-defining performance and it's just great to watch someone excel at what they do like that.

and as i kept watching his work i became really fascinated with this dynamic i was seeing where he could either be hitting it that hard, one of the best you've ever seen, transcending the material....or he could just kind of be there....and it seemed to depend on very little more than his mood. or whether he was interested. or whether he was well-cast? i ran into this phenomenon eventually where it seemed like directors/producers were casting him for the name without really utilizing or playing to his strengths, or even understanding what those were.

i have rankings of his films on my letterboxd: you can check my lists for my ultra specific ones, but this is my general ranking. my favorite is still and forever the rapture, which i wrote an essay about last summer. as far as the worst...full frontal and new years day suck ass. phantom is just boring, and odd in a dull way. you people is netflix's most unfunny and uncomfortable original. and house of d...is what it is.

i adore the secret. i've seen it 3 times and have it on DVD. i don't expect any person alive other than me to like it, but i'm just obsessed with it. i've tried to write about it so many times and never make it past the obvious discomfort, i just feel like i've lost every reader before i even say anything. but i find it to be a really interesting look into family and self and marriage and actualization and, yes, sex, and i love it.

movies that are bad but he's good in them.....probably louder than words. that movie is insufferable to watch, i'm sorry. i did write about it once for a newsletter that i never published. it's like this pseudo-hallmark feel-good philanthropic dead kid movie (based on a real dead kid and family which is why i'm sorry for trashing it) but it's so cheaply made and flat. duchovny plays the grieving dad, the character that the story revolves around, because he's the person that the family revolves around. including the three older children that his wife (played beautifully by hope davis, this movie really should be better than it is) had before they were married.

after the loss of his only biological child to a rare case of rabies, "dad" goes from strong and silent to "a zombie." and the family really struggles without both their "glue" of a baby sister, and dad.

he's great in it!! hope davis is great in it!! and it has a lot of really interesting roots about grief and blended families and fatherhood. one letterboxd review pointed out that "duchovny has always been great at playing fathers," and the movie really plays on that. it just isn't a good movie, the editing and the script aren't there.

otherwise, some of my favorite performances, in films that i love:

/ julia has two lovers

i love this movie so much but i'll keep it to the point and say that if they'd made 5, 10, or 20 movies like this- david duchovny would have been a movie star. i have this joke, that i've seen a lot of david duchovny movies and never once been like "you know who was great in that movie? david duchovny."

julia has two lovers is my "you know who was great in that movie?" movie.

he is so delicious in that film and it isn't just sexuality, it's vulnerability and gentleness and suavity.

the entire first hour, that's just the 2 characters on the phone, feels so special to me and is one of my favorite moments in film ever...but the scene that i always go back to in terms of his performance is when daphna kastner's julia has been assaulted by her fiancé and she's in the bath crying- still on the phone with duchovny's daniel. and he wants to cheer her up, and he looks like a nervous little boy trying to (as he describes) make his mother feel better. but he tells her this story from his childhood until she starts laughing and the tension breaks, and i just love this quiet hesitation in both that scene and that character. there is a vulnerability to it, with them both in various states of undress, both sharing pieces of themselves with a wrong number phone call stranger, and it plays out beautifully.

the film was sexual in a way that was extreme at the time, and very focused on women's sexuality. it was so low-budget (cost less to make than a tv commercial), and it was never released on DVD or digital. and it plays to his strengths, in a way that's rare to see in a lot of these films. i see a lot in julia has two lovers of what would go on to sky-rocket the x-files, and ground californication.

/ connie and carla

this movie is a riottttt it is literally never not fun and entertaining but there is one ultra quick and specific moment that stands out to me.

connie and carla revolves largely around a gay community in los angeles (specifically the drag community), and peripherally a performer named robert's struggles to reconnect with his brother, david duchovny's jeff, after the estrangement and homophobia in their family.

duchovny is great in this movie, it's the kind of comedic work that he excels in, and it literally has me howling every time. i have videos somewhere from the first time i watched it of me just falling apart hysterically laughing at some of his scenes.

but the emotional peak is when jeff goes to robert's apartment to tell his brother that he's sorry. that he should have stood up for him, he should have accepted him, he should have just loved him. and they discuss their parents, and the truth of what happened in their family.

there's this moment afterwards where he goes to leave and robert thinks that he's walking out, but he kind of doubles back and leans down to hug him quickly, very awkwardly.

i just loved that and i think it's dd at some of his best, this kind of uncomfortable effort.

it also always reminds me of californication's slow happy boys, the episode where hank moody's high school best friend comes to visit and he's a total fucking nightmare. there's a similar moment in the end where hank drops his friend off at the airport and hugs him clumsily while stammering "i love you. i love you."

again, connie and carla plays to his strengths!! i've written about before how duchovny is at his best playing men with good intentions. with their heart in the right place, and a lot complicating that. and i think that movie is a great wacky comedy that lends to it.

/ the tv set

this movie is like cocomelon to me i love it. and i honestly won't talk about it much because there isn't a lot to discuss, you kind of just have to see it. it's very funny, with a great cast (justine bateman!! judy greer!! two californication guest stars that i would've loved to see him work with a million times) and i always just enjoy watching it.

duchovny really grounds this movie in a way that i find to be so subtle and compelling, he carries the comedy as far as it can go but also holds 100% of the dramatic burden. everything serious or weighted in it you have to get just from watching his face and body language, and you can.

the look on his face in the last scene, with television set by joel plaskett playing over him, is exceptional!! one of those moments where i feel that he's just on the top of his game, understanding a character and what is happening to him, and following through. that final moment changes the tone of the film and it's all in the look on his face.

/ the joneses

another movie that i love that i also find to be a prime example of smart casting...i've intended for a long time to write at length about this one (and i still might) but in simple terms, the joneses wants to sell you something. the family that it's about, the joneses, want to sell you something. and it's the only film that i feel took advantage of one thing i mentioned earlier: casting for the name. while also playing to the strengths of each performer.

the joneses positions demi moore, david duchovny, amber heard, and benjamin hollingsworth as walking and talking advertisements. influencers before a truly digital age. i won't go too far into it, because there are several twists that you just have to see for yourself, but it positions itself on the premise that everyone wants what these 4 people have.

and it wants to sell you david duchovny, just as much as every movie poster does. as demi moore's character says: "when you want to, you can be quite handsome. and extremely charming."

the movie depends on that, just as much as the characters do. the movie is relying on the fact that you will go see a david duchovny picture, just as much as the characters rely on those around them buying david duchovny's life.

i think it's perfectly cast, well acted, and extremely meta in a way that's wildly culturally relevant. but it also exploits a factor that i feel had previously held him back: the idea that you will just want whatever this person has.

there is so much that could be said on this topic because i find it to be so rich, and have loved exploring it, but there's a bit of what i've learned!! thanks again for the question, love u!!

[wellofdean]

Just breaking up this post before it just gets out of hand, but want to reply to these notes from @ironworked :

#I was reading the transcript of a panel Kripke did in 2008#he gets asked about Jo and at the end says they 'don't have any plans to bring her back'#and then: ''(audience cheers)''#then they cheer *for* Ellen#The impression I get is that a large portion of the fandom only ever cared about female characters that weren't 'a threat' to a ship#but who still were there for Dean and Sam#This show had its fumbles and mistakes and iffy stuff with female characters but I'm with Ilarual here - fandom has been significantly wors#the reactions to Mary and Amara are particularly interesting because they're pretty much exactly#the kind of nuanced female character fans *say* they want#and yet they get trashed and misrepresented regularly#funny that#Tv: Supernatural

Ugh. So gross. And to be clear, I am also with @ilarual : there is plenty of misogyny in Supernatural that's there just because it's the air we all breathe, but a lot of it is in the way if someone wants to belittle Dean in some way, they ALWAYS impugn his masculinity, and the way he is supposed to be ashamed of being the one who just wants to keep his family together, and the way he is unable to experience a tender emotion without embarrassment, or the way he can't say "I love you" so he says "I did not leave you!" and "Don't do anything stupid!" angrily instead. Or, the way Sam (soulless) and grandpa Samuel make fun of his nice house with Lisa, and he feels the need to defend himself by saying "Go ahead, call me a soccer mom!" as if the worst possible thing he could be is a feminized, domesticated man who's been tamed by a woman who reads girl magazines. THAT'S misogyny, but fellas, I think the show is attempting to point a thing out with that? All of those things are depictions of misogyny in a show that's about the way terrible patriarchal relationships fuck men up.

Dean's so-called misogyny is cartoonish and ridiculous and clearly a triggered performative response to stereotypical representations of performative femininity, because when Dean is called upon to respond to a woman as a human being, he is well able to do that, even in season 1.

Women who threaten the big ship are always hated in fandom after fandom. Personally, I loved Jo. I loved her crush on Dean, and his big brother act hiding a crush on her. I loved Amara because GOD'S SISTER? Dean's dark female soul image? The way their weird, skeevy connection resolved in mutual empathy, one caged thing to another, and also in giving each other what they most needed? Mary coming back to show Dean that his fantasy of a lost ideal family was just that? A fantasy?

Like, that is just rich storytelling and I am here for it.

I get why people didn't like Amara -- she is an antagonist and I cringed every time she touched Dean's face. She was a threat to Dean, but also? I fucking LOVED that she was there, making me super uncomfortable and fucking EATING, and against Chuck? I wanted her to win. Fuck that guy! I love the idea that a controlling author/father/god who locked his sister and feminine equal up so he could play with his boytoys and make them kill each other. I love that Amara is symbolic of nothingness as opposed to Chuck's being because I think there is a fundamental way in which we struggle to imagine ourselves, AS A CULTURE, without patriarchy.

I also get why people are mad at Mary. We love Dean! We want him to have what he wants! We want him to have fluffy mom-time to make up for all his years of pain. But, can we all just ask ourselves the important question of whether or not a grown-ass man should get what he wants at his mother's expense? Like, are mothers actual human beings with desires, needs and exigencies of their own, or are they slaves to their men and their offspring?*

*Side note: I feel like there are a lot of young people who are mad at their moms on tumblr, and yeah, not all parents live up to their responsibilities and that sucks, but yo: moms are people they make mistakes and have needs.

And, as story devices, which is what they ultimately are, Dean's weird feelings about Amara in a season that is all about Dean thinking about what his heart wants, really only supports the ship we all want to see sail. As for Mary, her death was the inciting incident and her return (and John's) was about healing by letting painful things be painful, and seeing that what you have is pretty fucking good, actually ("I have a family"), and then her second death tests Dean's commitment to holding his family together. Like, our heroes have to be put in situations so we can see their mettle! That's what stories do!

I dunno man. The other day someone I know in meatspace was like: "Oooh! I love Supernatural! Let's talk!" And I was like: "Oh! Cool! Yeah!" and then she says: "Sometimes it sucked though, especially in the later seasons, like when they brought Mary back," and I was like........."Actually, let's not talk."

[gunsatthaphan]

🎆 🥂 𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝒩𝑒𝓌 𝒴𝑒𝒶𝓇!!! 🥂🎆

*cue piano music* another year is gone and I know no one asked for this but I wanted to take the opportunity to do a little recap and also give shoutouts to some lovely people 🥺  

It’s been a rollercoaster of a year, both for me personally and also regarding the content that came out. We got some amazing stuff but sadly there was also a lot of less amazing stuff and ultimately, the quantity > quality tendency dominated once again. 2022 was the year where I decided to take a few steps back in terms of my watchlist; I have come to the realization that the more stuff I watch, the more stressed I get - both regarding the pressure of always being up to date with everything, but also the pressure of creating content around said shows. Which might be a ridiculous thing to think but I usually have a feeling of insufficiency when it comes to my content. Which is why I put a few things on the backburner this year. Additionally I have also realized I’m not willing to put up with shows anymore that are not 100% to my satisfaction. Hate-watching is something I somewhat enjoyed before and admittedly there were a few shows that I watched despite not liking them (like unforgotten night or OMSN) which was mostly due to the amusement of making fun of them lmao. But I ended up finding a lot more joy in putting my whole focus on the few shows I genuinely enjoy, instead of watching an abundance of mediocre stuff on the side. Which was why the variety of content on my blog was a little limited this year. 

I took a 3 month trip to Thailand where, amongst other things, I emerged myself into the on-site fan culture and got to see a bunch of actors close-up and while that was an incredible experience, it made me realize how insanely commercialised this industry really is and how exhausting it must be for these people to always appear at these events with perfect smiles and what not. which was also part of the reason why I stepped back. I don’t want to make this sound overly dramatic but that was the vibe I got when I was there. oh and also don’t forget that time where I got shadowbanned from tumblr for almost 1 month and thought I would never get my blog back... good times 😬 

However despite all, I loved creating content for the things I was passionate about over the past year and I’m looking forward to making more in the next one!

I’m gonna post a personal top10 of the shows I watched this year shortly after this post goes up. Until then, I want to talk a bit about some of my favorite people this year - I’m not good with words lmao but thank you for being you and for making this hellsite a better place djkghdf 💜  

@leonpob - bestie 🥺💜💜 you know you’re one of my favorite people, I love talking to you every day and sharing our thoughts on shows and other things!!! You radiate so much comfort for me and I can’t wait to continue our talks in the new year!!! 😘 

@khunvegas - another year of collectively simping, trash-talking and screaming and I wouldn’t want it any other way jkdfhg. I cherish our unhinged and shameless conversations and I appreciate your non-judgy nature when it comes to unpopular opinions lmao. looking forward to another year of bl bants 🫡

@my-wandering-rabbit - you’re always sooo sweet and I absolutely loved talking to you this year!!! 💜 I appreciate your balanced opinions and your honesty and I'm looking forward to more chats in 2023!! 😊 

@odi-et-amo85 - I love our random convos lmao and I appreciate how nice you always are!! you’re so fun to talk to and I’m so glad we started chatting! 😙

@sleepypurplenote - ahh I love talking to you!!!! your messages are always so lively and fun lmao I love it!!!! 🥺 I love that we share so many opinions when it comes to BL stuff so thank you for being here!! 😘 

@laowen - We haven’t talked a ton this year but just know that I absolutely love you and your content!! on top of that you’re one of the nicest people I’ve met on here and I appreciate you and your blog so much!!! 💜 

@pharawee - we haven’t talked a lot yet either but your content is so amazing!!! I love your gifs and everything else that you do!!! keep up the amazing work and thank you for helping me with my giffing troubles! 🙈 

@bl-recs-and-reviews - my discord bestie 🥺 I absolutely love catching up with you and even though we don’t talk every day, it always feels like coming home when I talk to you 💜 let’s do that a lot more next year pleeasee!! 

@mrsandypants - ahhh you’re legit one of the sweetest and loveliest people I’ve met on here!!!! you’re so nice and fun and your asks are my favorites!! 💜 stay the way you are and please stop by my blog as much as possible 😄 

honorable mentions go out to these lovely people 💫

@10ways @offspring-of-calliope @jjungkookiess @fiftyshots​ @chainsawandronan@victooooorious @sillybiscuitshepherdskeleton @dollopheadsandclotpoles @theblbois @emisfritish @boun-prem @hecalledhimhyung @bengiyo @benkaaoi @clairificusrex @tumcialgun @vegaspetes @eaasysarcasm @german-bl-kpop-lover @patandpran @earthpodd @spine @tobeornottotc @ilajudica @zeejade88 @hunginggrapes @malec4everr @nanons @praninlovex @flukenatouch @dimension-eater @bfjeff @billkinspp @coldties @freensrcha @gooseras @guzhu-furen @jaehwany @jeffsatur @kaonoppakao @kimporchay @lakorns @liankuea @loveisactivated @machikeita @paisky @pranparakul @pranpats @prapais@patpran @seanwhites @seawherethesunsets @smittenskitten @sunsetandthemoon @tachinekoii @taeminnie @team-win @tehohaews @tirpse87 @wanderlust-in-my-soul @yibo-wang @ncppanut​ @ddreamzee​

thank you for making this fandom-year amazing with your content and just by being cute 🥺 happy 2023!!! 💓💋

xxx 

[daemondaes]

name: che

height: 5'3-ish. close enough to average. i can reach the top shelf, and at the end of the day, that's what matters.

nickname / s: chebureki, chechival, cheeble, chevalier, jam.

nationality: californian. 😎

favourite fruit: peach. 🥹🙏 strawberry is second. grape is third.

favourite season: spring? the benefits of summer hours with less of the summer heat. fall is nicer for layering tho

favourite scents: gasoline, bread, vanilla, citrus, books.

favourite animals: baby hippos (only baby), small dogs (esp chihuahuas), cows.

tea, coffee, hot cocoa: green tea, or else coffee with milk and, if i've been good, a sprinkle of cocoa powder.

average hours of sleep: uh. probably like 4-5 if i have to be somewhere in the morning, 8-10 if i don't.

when my blog was created: this incarnation? my earliest post was apparently 23 may 2020, so we're coming up on that 4 year anniversary 😏 but the first standalone cherry blog was from 2016? the oldest muse on here to originate on tumblr (ciel) emerged in late 2011. the oldest oldest muse on here originated off-tumblr in like 2008/9 on gaiaonline (talking abt u, naux).

# of followers: i normally wouldn't answer this, but i will tell u now that it is 365 just because that's such a satisfying number? got a buddy here for every day of the year 😎 that's a lie tho bc the number is broken and doesn't really fluctuate no matter how many people i gain or lose LOL i'm pretty sure like 4/5 people on the list are inactive tho, so please help me make more friends

random fact: my bedroom is ridiculously girly, soft pinks and pale greys and whites with gold accents, loads of pillows and plushes and decorative doodads, but i myself dress almost entirely in black. it's a little like putting wednesday in enid's room. not quite sure what that says about me.

favourite food: the humble tuna sandwich. i'm counting lemonade as a food here, just so i can add it in. i like lemonade even more than i like tuna.

favourite t.v. shows: flcl, dead boy detectives, good omens, i love lucy, king of the hill, the simpsons, lupin iii.

favourite movie: my letterboxd top 4 are some like it hot (1959), ghostbusters (1984), mad max: fury road (2015), and back to the future (1985)...but if i could have a fifth, it would be austin powers (1997).

sexuality: i like girls a lot more than i like guys, but i'm too busy and too broke to even think about that 😤

pronouns : she/they/any? idc abt labels and boxes, but it's weird that u're talking about me when i'm not there /:

favourite book series: howard the duck 😏 did you think i'd really make it to the end of this without mentioning him? this is also my chance to plug fly by night by frances hardinge, and its sequel, fly trap (or twilight robbery in the UK). there's also the monster blood tattoo trilogy by d.m. cornish that i desperately wish i'd held on to because it's apparently out of print now! my blood boils every time i remember. it would be remiss if i didn't mention a series of unfortunate events, just because i do think it was very influential for me. i'm about to reread the saga of darren shan/cirque du freak for the first time since middle school, so wish me luck 😤

favourite video game/s: god, fuckin...idk, tetris? roblox??? i'm not a gamer at all. i can't play anything unless i'm playing with a friend. that's a lie, i played baldgate3. the only thing i play is the sims 4. i'm trash

favourite subject: [scuttles around on all fours, twitching and foaming at the mouth] school bad! school BAD! (my three passions are history and fashion and film, but i don't love the academic system. Cs get degrees, etc. my own degree was in creative writing, and now i'm trapped in retail hell, so be smarter than me, kids! except also i hear even stem is useless these days? society is crumbling so bad, i—)

guys or girls: i prefer drawing guy faces and girl bodies. idk what u're getting at here

last time I cried: last night, conveniently

what I should be doing: taking out the trash, cooking up curry, cleaning the bathroom, polishing my spanish and diving into mandarin, writing, drawing, job hunting. continuing my goal of watching 365 movies this year. sweeping up the feathers of my cockatiel, galileo, because it's Moltin' Time. the usual 🤷‍♀️

favourite fandoms: i actually don't participate in fandom LOL i just lurk. chat about stuff in discord—DMs, not servers. i have so much art and music in my head, but i don't have the mobile dexterity and stamina for it anymore. maybe one day...

tagged by: @hatchetsfield (thanks, pidge!) tagging: anyone who learned a thing about me from this

[contaminatedlamb]

Paint ペイント -[tmnt2012] Leonardo x Fem!Reader

summary: To your limited knowledge, something is going on in the midst of New York City. From the Bronx, all the way down to Brooklyn, creatures are emerging from the woodworks to ease their claws into the lives of every inhabitant. From a sous chef who dreams of refining her artistic skills, an androgynous woman with a dark past and a violent soul, to a once lively mutant teenager who's grief has morphed him into a shell of his former self. Together, with the help of their friends, family members, and wary allies— the truth will be revealed. No matter what the cost. Who knew that it would all start with a bit of paint?

notes: posting my first ever fanfiction on tumblr! I hope you enjoy, this is a passion project of mine that I have been working on since 2019. Show some love if you can, and let me know what you think of it! This book is also cross posted on Ao3 and Wattpad. Currently being rewritten as we speak.

warnings: gore and blood.

(Accidentally added a poll and can’t remove it from my draft so here we are lol)

Chapter One - Nothing to see here, folks! Everything is Fine.

You woke up that morning dreading to take out the trash.

It was Friday, that dreaded day of the week. While many celebrated it as the last day before the relief of a weekend, it happened to be only miserable for you. It was the busiest day in Murakami's Japanese restaurant, with all the drunk college men stumbling into the little hole in the wall to harass the three employees, and its blind owner/head chef. They made a mess, per usual, figuring out how to break down the token driven vending machine, demolish the bathrooms, leave their tables in chaotic disarray; all while somehow leaving drunker than before... If that was even possible. You were convinced that it had to do with those 'water bottles' they carried, which you were sure were just filled to the brim with vodka. There were times, when you were busy moping up a spilt drink, dizzy from their boisterous noise and the fumes, that you hoped they choked on their 'water'.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the only reason that you dreaded going to work. Every Friday was also the day where the garbage had reached unfathomable levels of toxicity and needed to be tossed into the dumpster for the workers to take it away the next morning. How was it that the small portion of the human race that came to the restaurant seemed to make the biggest, most disgusting mess possible? New York. Disgusting down to its very own garbage.

Black trash bags would pile up by the pounds against the back door, so much so that it may have become a safety concern and an entire health violation if you thought about it for too long. You were certain that some sort of mutant would sprout from the bags and squeak a pleasant hello~ towards your horrified face. And yet, that wouldn't even be the strangest thing you had seen happen during your almost two years living in Manhattan. You wished you were joking when you told the story about how you had once seen a grown man with a glorious beard dressed as a nun take on a costumed Elmo, who looked as if he discovered cocaine with those tech bros that cluttered the streets of the city. Only in Times Square at eleven at night did something like that happen— and it hadn't even been Halloween! The absurdity of it all meant that you couldn't help but begrudgingly be amused by the chaotic energy of New York City.

Now though, as you stood slouched over, your lower back pressed against the beige wall lined with awards and old pictures of simpler times, you glared with a burning ferocity at the trash bags. The trash bags which always seemed to come up with new scents and would send you to the bathroom to heave up the few crackers you had eaten for dinner. Those black plastic trash voids which oozed and dripped with weird discolored sludge that made the bags stick to the ground when you dragged them through the back door, leaving behind horrible slime trails in their path. Only once before in your life had you accomplished a feat of strength, and that was when you had jumped up from your chair to do one 'pull up' in P.E. at seven years old. You had been extremely proud of that loophole, and it was one of your most cherished memories, depressingly enough. That made this attempt of physical strength all the more difficult, in the end.

At this moment, glaring at the trash as if it had insulted your entire family, you were finally snapped out of the inner roasting that you had directed to the garbage— by being unceremoniously slapped in the face with a pair of neon latex gloves. You sighed loudly, closing your eyes to collect yourself before you, to put it in modern terms, cut a hoe. You bent over and snatched up the pair of yellow gloves with more rage than expected. Straightening, you met the grin of your friend, none other than Sukiyaki Ashika; the source of your constant suffering.

The young adult of Japanese and Pakistani descent leaned in the doorway which led to the kitchen, dark arms crossed over her flat chest, that same cheeky grin that she used against those teenage delivery boys plastered across her Asian based features. It was a weapon, paired with her psychedelic slanted red brown eyes, the sort you saw on vampire men in those terrible low budget movies. These weren't any different. They were real, and they were lovely. It felt at times that she would hypnotize you with her stare, so powerful were they. There were times where you couldn't hold her gaze, having to lose the staring contest by dropping your gaze to the ground.

"Make sure you put on them gloves, by the way." The teenager reminded you, tossing her Wolf cut bangs to the side, the back of her straight black hair cropped short. The bangs were wispy, perfect, flowing in the wind as if she were in a shampoo commercial. It was comical, and you wanted to stab it.

"Yeah— I remember what happened when you didn't wear them that one time." You snorted with a lopsided smile as you slid them both on, the latex snapping loudly against your skin as you raised your eyebrows. "How's your hands by the way?" You questioned, a grin growing across your face.

Yaki made a noise of annoyance as she looked over at the hallway between the kitchen and the main restaurant area, sniffing in distaste. "Its not my fault that the stuff in there stained my hands yellow." She grumbled, looking down at her hands with their splotches of light neon yellow blemished along her pecan brown palms.

"It's literally toxic." You noted, as you wrapped your hands around the tied knots of the black garbage bags, inhaling deeply as you attempted to lift them up. All that was obtained from that movement was a sore back and almost dislocating your wrists. You let out a groan through your clenched teeth, your shoulders shakily sagging.

Sukiyaki guffawed loudly, a grin growing on her lips as she curled a finger around a strand of her coarse hair to play with it. "Awe, babaaa." Cooed the woman, tilting her head to press against the doorway.

"Don't 'awe baba' me." You huffed back like the annoyed teenager you were, glaring at the bags filled with garbage that resembled you, kicking at the receptacle. "You're enjoying this." You huffed, dropping the bags, placing your gloved hands on your hips as you shot the bags another dirty look.

Yaki gave a half shrug coupled with her signature smile as she continued to watch in amusement at the train wreck starting before her. "Put 'cha back into it!" She called as you began to slowly roll each large trash bag across the linoleum floor and through the backdoor. You managed to shoot her a scowl over your shoulder as you began your process of piling all the bags outside the door. Finishing up, you pulled back one of the bags holding the backdoor open, allowing the heavy wooden door to fall shut against its doorway.

You listened for a moment as Yaki faintly sang All Star to herself through the closed door, as you began the long process of figuring out how exactly you were going to drag each humongous bag into the six feet tall dumpster bin. Your arms already shook with the effort, your tendons stretched out against your skin, as you tried your best not to fall over. You would've loved Sukiyaki to help you, or take over even, but you knew it was your turn. If you ended up asking, you knew what would follow. The teasing, the pokes in your sides, ruffling up your hair before she would finally submit and get the job done. Effortlessly tossing in the bags as if she were playing basketball, not a bead of sweat to be found, her hair perfect as always. It was annoying how perfect she was, and this time, you decided that you would put the garbage in its place without submitting yourself to the mortifying experience of asking Suki to help. At least you could try to hold onto a silver of dignity left in your body.

After loud fits of swearing, prayers to God, squealing as the bulging bag teetered back from the edge of the metal container and almost crushed you (if you hadn't ran off before it crashed to the floor) and, embarrassingly enough, a bit of frustrated tears being shed, you managed to shove a bag into the dumpster. Placing each on the edge and shoving them all inside with a loud grunt, you found yourself finding a rhythm. It did little to cheer you up as you felt the muscles in your arms beginning to complain. You were definitely going to blackmail Yaki into buying you some ice cream after your shift was finished— after all, it was the most your roommate could do to soften your pain.

"This is supposed to be your job." You grumbled to no one in particular, feeling the bead of sweat tickle the side of your temple as it slid. You dragged the last trash bag towards the dumpster bin, loudly (and explicitly) directing your frustration towards an imaginary Yaki. Fuming, cursing, you planned in your head, allowing your mouth to run wild. You could mess up her perfectly styled hair (though she would attack your hair then too, and it looked bad enough as it did after a long hot day of work), you could hide her earbuds in her locker (but then she would talk your ear off in the subway home), or, you could smack her with your broom. The broom smacking seemed the easiest, the most surprising, and frankly, the funnie—

Something squeaked back in response.

Your head swiveled around, your fingers gripping the trash bag as it teetered on the edge of the dumpster (dangerously so, as you dug your heels into the ground), your eyes wide, shoulders aching and nostrils flaring. The rats in New York City were as large as an alley cat, and you were not prepared to catch the bubonic plague from one of those buggers. You were pretty sure you had been vaccinated against rabies as a child, but a quick trip to the hospital to confirm that was not something you looked forward to. Either way, the thought of a rat sinking its dagger like teeth into your ankle did not sound fun.

Your eyes scanned the dark narrow alleyway, listening closely to hundreds of flashing cars zooming by on nearby streets, their horns blaring in the distance. Your pupils dilated and adjusted to the shadows cast by the towering buildings surrounding the alleyway, making sense of the shapes along the walls. Garbage bins, loose trash, scattered needles, rotting garbage bags from the business in the next building, cardboard boxes. Nothing. Nothing suspicious at all. Your knuckles turned a shade paler as you held onto the trash bag for dear life, turning towards the giant receptacle, finally releasing as it hit against the bottom of the bin with a loud thud.

Another squeak echoed in the alley as you brought your hands abruptly to your chest, ("protecting your innocent little heart now, baba?" You heard sukiyaki's voice tease you in your mind), your eyes falling towards a pile of trash bags against the opposite wall. Your heart thudded angrily against your chest. It felt as if it wanted to crawl up your throat and escape, running. You wanted to run, but your feet were glued to the asphalt. You cautiously reached for the rickety broom that was propped against the wall, right next to the garbage bin. Isidore must've been here recently, brushing the loose vegetables out into the street to be run over or stolen by the rats. Your fingers curled around the cool blue plastic, your sweaty palms squelching against the material. You were ready to slap any demon rat that came anywhere near you.

You gripped the plastic broom tightly with both hands, watching closely as one of the trash bags began to vibrate. Yes, vibrate; as if it were a ringing phone laid against a glass tabletop. You gulped, shuddering violently, as you began to take delicate steps toward towards the bag.

I'd rather it be a mutant than a freaking rat,— you hoped in your mind. At least mutants didn't try to bite... Right?

A gasp ripped from your mouth as a circular white face popped out with a rat-like squeak from a chewed up hole through the material of the plastic trash bag. There was the sound that you had been hearing all along. It belonged to a 2-D face with two white skinny stick arms stabbing into the bag as it wiggled out its beanpole of a body from the hole inside the trash bag. A drawn stick figure, about the size of your hand. It looked like it had been cut out of paper by a child, the edges showing pencil marks where the shape had been carefully drawn. It leapt out of the bag to perch itself onto the black bulging trash bag, sticking its face forward. Staring. Staring at you.

You didn't realize your mouth was hanging open until a fly smacked against your upper lip and ricocheted away. You spluttered, wiping the back of your hand across your mouth as you took a step backwards. Big mistake. The abrupt noise and sudden movement startled the stick figure. It arched its back, on all four nubby sticks (like a cat, you thought numbly in amusement), hissing at you even though it had no visible mouth. The noise that it emitted was enough to make the hairs on the back of your neck stand straight.

You stared at it. This was... unreal. A stick figure, (or a cut out figure?) coming to life, hissing at you like an angry pigeon. Did pigeons even hiss? You couldn't recall, you were just frozen. In utter shock.

...Were you high? Okay, yeah, sure, it was probably those delivery boys, their fault at is, smoking weed freely whenever they dropped off their shipments of vegetables, frozen fish and meat, including the occasional ice cream. At least you hoped; it would certainly make more sense than the stickie in front of you. Obviously, you had inhaled some second-hand-devils-lettuce smoke and now you were high as a kite, imagining a two year old's drawing cut out of a stick figure aggressively arching its back in and out at you as if it were performing some sort of mating dance.

The stick figure hissed once more and you finally noticed a hole appearing on his face, (because of course you assumed it was a male), and tiny paper like sharpened teeth baring at you.

Yeah, no.

You swiftly swung the head of the broom, bristles and all, at the sentient stick figure, slapping the surprisingly light thing in the torso and sending it flying. A loud squeal escaped its empty mouth as it sailed across the alley wall (you stared, mesmerized, wondering how paper could hold such weight), and tumbled onto the sidewalk. It scrambled to its feet, sickly yellow light from the street lamps throwing shadows against its flat white skin. It stared. And stared. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, it hissed once more at you and scurried off. The sound of its flat feet scratching lightly against the ground quickly faded away.

You stood there, sucking and exhaling rapid breaths. You stared at the place where, just moments before, a living drawing had stood.

After a few minutes, you had successfully convinced yourself that none of it had been real, or had even occurred. It was the toxic fumes from the garbage bags, mingling with remnants of the evil weed as your mother called it. It had come together to corrupt your brain and had made you hallucinate for a few minutes— that was all. It was something psychological that you were sure could be explained through a quick google search. You really had to make sure you wore a gas mask next time you took out the trash. That was a joke, but it barely amused you. Maybe it would make Sukiyaki laugh, if she didn't start cackling at your story of weed, poisonous fumes, and stick figures coming out to attack you.

You spent a few spare moments gingerly poking the hole riddled trash bag with the end of your broom, (letting out a gasp when something inside it fell over, causing you to jump), before shaking off that nagging feeling scratching the back of your mind. Everything was a-okay, perfect, absolutely fine... everything was fine.

You cleared your throat, turning swiftly on the soles of your stained beat up, formerly white sneakers, twirling the broom lazily in your free hand. Around and around, you twirled, as if you were trying to mimic the actions of a Jedi. Your heart had calmed down from the mini heart attack it just had, as you wiped your free shaking sweaty palm on your stained light blue jeans. You walked back towards the backdoor, a trembling hum resonating in your throat, dragging your shoes against the dirty concrete floor of the alleyway. Everything was just fine.

You felt the ground tremble before you heard it. The sound of feet hitting the ground behind you, slapping against the ground clumsily, a small grunt following it. Softly, albeit messily, but gently enough that you wouldn't had even noticed. If it hadn't been for the hand that grabbed your shoulder.

A shrill shriek escaped your lips as you swung around the broom (really, this had become second nature after what you had just gone through) spinning around to beat the person who had grabbed you. Grabbed you! This was New York City after all, it was late, and hadn't there been reports of mutants, gangs, and weird looking alien robots in this area as well? You were not the type of person to willingly go if you were kidnapped or, god forbid, harassed. If it came to it, the good Lord had given you two dirty hands for wielding whatever was available. Which happened to be a cheap, held-together-by-prayers-and-duct-tape-broom. Put together, you were the shining representative of all pathetic, weak, easily scared girls worldwide.

Unfortunately, before your weapon of choice could loudly thwack against the face of your adversary, the broom was gripped tightly in a shaking bandaged three fingered hand.

You were face to face with a creature.

You were both breathing heavily in sync. This thing, this animal, was injured and heaving in rhythm with you. How rude!

In the dim yellow light emitted from the streets that dragged into the alleyway, he was red— no, he was green, covered in red. You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to hide the fact that you were beginning to hyperventilate at the pure shock of this mes— wait; was that a panic attack you felt coming on? You hadn't had one in weeks!

He was taller than you, that much you could tell as you stared into his eyes. You were caught in his piercing gaze, your eyes only being able to flicker around before being dragged back into this stare. He appeared to be brawny in his physique, though you on the contrary seemed as breakable as a twig. A huge gash ran across his green face as you, for the first time, noticed a blue mask around his neck that was soaked with... blood. Torn up bandages swayed limply from his elbows, shoulders and hands, with a few knee pads barely holding on. His left shoulder leaked blood through a large open gash that didn't seem to relent with its flow. His right eye was reddened and beginning to swell shut, the other a piercing blue that seemed wrong belonging to a thing like him. Your eyes trailed to his back, oh hello there shell, where large multi colored gashes peeked at her, contrasting against the brown. The streaks seemed as if they were made out of… paint.

Your attention was pulled away as remembered the broom you were gripping with both of your hands, his three fingered hand holding the other side, his own grip in between your hands. You let go, stumbling backwards, your arms outstretched into a t-pose as you stared wide eyed in silence. Whattt was happening? What was this? Why was this? Why? Why?!

A noise that sounded like a pigeon choking on a piece of hot dog meat escaped your parted lips as you pointed at his face. The thing. The turtle. The mutant. With eyes you had only seen before in cliché anime gif's that you would usually spam to your former nanny to confuse her.

He stood there, looking embarrassed and uncomfortable, mimicking the exact expressions that you were experiencing too. He clutched the broom in one hand, his arm falling limply to the side. His grip on the pole was tight, so tight that his knuckles turned white. His hand began to shake. His grip loosened. The broom clattered to the ground. The shaking in his hands didn't stop there. It only spread, up his arms, down to his knees; his entire body seemed to be having a shaking fit. You realized, late as it was, that it was probably the buckets of blood covering him, (hey-o! blood loss!).

You took a small step forward.

"Um..." You cleared your throat, embarrassingly loud as it echoed throughout the alley, trying to draw his attention. He was staring straight ahead, his gaze empty and in some far off place other then the present. "My, my guy." You said, unsure of yourself as you scrunched up your nose at the stupid words spilling out of your mouth. You held out one hand tentatively, eyebrows knitted in concern as you licked your very dry, very salty lips. "Are you... good?"

The mutant hesitantly shrugged, his one working eye squinting and shining in the sickly yellow light. "No." His hoarse voice squeezed out, barely a whisper as it echoed along the dense towering concrete walls of the alleyway. With that one word, he collapsed in on himself, like a soda can being crushed between two hands.

You stared at the pile of blue, green, brown, beige, yellow, purple, and red before you and inhaled deeply. You gazed upon your familiar surroundings, calm as ever, and clasped your gloved hands together. "God..." You declared quite loudly, as if you were confessing to the Lord himself. "I'm high." And with those cheerful words, still trying to convince yourself that this was all a hallucination you turned on the heels of your white sneakers, opened the door, and walked inside. Humming a loud tune, the door shut closed behind you, ringing throughout the alley, out into the empty street.

A squeak rang out from a familiar hole riddled trash bag.

Everything was fine.

[takerfoxx]

What's the most difficult type of Madoka fan to deal with IYO? Recently had some...interesting experiences with the types that another described as 'Homura-stans', which I found weird because I rather like Homura and didn't think I was doing anything to incite a reaction like that. They the worst or are there more insidious parts of the fandom I have yet to run into?

If you mean people who take the whole "Homura did nothing wrong" thing way too seriously, I've ran into them a time or two, but they tend to just be irritating at worst.

As for me, well, I don't know how long you've been a part of the fandom, but let me tell you a tale of one of the most notorious members of the Madoka Magica community. Let me tell you the tale of Anti-Crack Kun.

=puffs on pipe and leans back in rocking chair=

Sometime between the release of the original series and now, around the middle of the last decade, there arose a certain individual who, despite having been gone for several years now and otherwise is all but forgotten, certainly left quite the indelible stamp on the community. Officially, his name was Anonscans, but to everyone else he was known as simply Anti-Crack Kun.

You see, he was active in the community in a way few other people were, as a translator of Madoka Magica yuri doujins (as well as for a few other series). Some of them cute and clean, others cute and very much not clean, but as this was the golden age of Madoka Magica doujins, he quickly became a fairly big name in that part of the community.

However, while it could be argued that he was providing a service, he is more known for his obsessive, nay, near pathological belief that if you shipped anything other than KyoSaya or MadoHomu, you were in effect ignoring the girls' feelings and treating them like disposable trash. Every doujin that he translated had what was basically his manifesto tacked on at the end, so you could just be enjoying some cute fluff concerning your favorite ship only to be hit with a wall of deranged rambling.

Furthermore, he was not content to simply express his beliefs in his own space, but also aggressively hunted down those who enjoyed what he deemed were "non-canon" ships, which ignores the fact that for as much as we'd like to think otherwise, Madoka Magica is still mostly subtext and nobody save for Hitomi and Kyousuke are actually officially a couple. He would pick fights in the comments of his doujins, stir up trouble on messages boards, would harass and insult fanartists on deviantart and here on tumblr for producing anything having to do with "crack ships," make multiple sockpuppet accounts every time he got banned or blocked, and also showed a real misogynstic and ableist streak as well. I've heard that he also doxxed a few people. Some prominent fanartists outright left the fandom because they were tired of his bullshit.

Funny thing is, someone did ask him about Walpurgis Nights once way back in the day, and he actually gave it the okay, because despite being very AU at least it stuck to the "canon" ships or some shit like that. But that did not stop us from having a brief war of words a few years ago here on tumblr.

Anyway, he's long been run out of the fandom by now. His accounts have all been deleted, and no one's heard from him for almost a decade. However, his website Anonscans is still up, albeit dormant, so you can still peek in to see some truly bizarre drama. It even features a "debate" area, as he knew full well people would be coming for his ass. And any of the doujins that he translated are still under his name in whatever archives they're stored in. So there's every chance that you could be browsing through some old KyoSaya only to run right into his batshit manifesto at the end.

So yeah. That guy.

[indigobard]

PREFACE RANT TO THE RANT: This was spurred on by the fact that all I did was look up the helluva boss tag for fanart when the new episode dropped, and now my For You recommended box has been forever tainted with this stupid ass group of people that post "Helluva Critical" and "Viviene Critical". I keep blocking one, and a new one will pop up on the next page. Thinking back on it, this shit is always the same with every goddamn thing that is good in this world. It fucking exists around a bunch of useless consumer fucks who wouldn't appreciate artistry if it caused peace on our planet Earth. Nothing is good enough, and now my tumblr recommendations are apparently tainted forever because the annoying minority is more like a 40% 60% split than a 10% 90% split. Fuck. 

THE RANT: Why do animation and drawn things as a medium have the worst fans? It's got the most death threat-sending, hateful, cretinous motherfuckers with no grasp of nuance or any inkling of patience. It happens with every show and comic nowadays. Like, fucking chill and let things be created without gaining some fucked-up sense of entitlement to a thing that your only, only motherfucking addition to is being a consumer of said thing. Which is the lowest part of the economic totem pole and barely worth shit. It takes hundreds of thousands of consumers for something to make it big these days; we are all a thousandth of a thousandth of a thousandth of the reason something can keep airing, so sit the fuck down. Much like most these losers the changes they want to make are trash. I guess after years and years I have come to the conclusion that while I'm glad fandom exists because it ups the funding of these projects, I at the end of the day absolutely detest and fucking hate a sizable portion of fandoms because looking at them makes me so unsurprised that being an animator or a writer for one of these shows is so often a miserable experience for the creators we should be encouraging.

OUTRO SOLUTION: After a short search I have discovered the block tag option so just like the people who should just stop watching the shows and reading the things they only ever criticize and personally attack people for making I am going to block the two tags filled with just the worst people. Good riddance idiots.

[mlobsters]

supernatural s15e4 atomic monsters (w. davy perez)

tumblr trashed my original post, it said it was processing the video but the post disappeared entirely so i'm having to re-write this from scratch. i was able to screenshot what i wrote while it was hung which is something, but this is something that's happened to me a number of times (usually on video focused posts though) and i'm FUCKING SICK OF IT. i always find all the fucking bugs. UGH.

oh, a becky episode. i really, really did not like her character. i understand the intent may have been all in good fun, but i only ever received it as making fun of fans. especially the way her actor played her. and i will never understand the choice to have her drugging and kidnapping sam to marry him.

is dean having an action hero nightmare about all his brothers-in-arms who died on his watch. it's pretty and a+ production values. bunker looks so much cooler in the red lighting. waiting for an explanation on the facial hair, scarf???, tactical vest, fingerless gloves look though. giving very military incursion.

(just noticed this is a jackles directed episode. hmm.)

reminded of that article with serge ladouceur and he mentioned why they didn't use slow motion in fights:

Clearly, your producers always had in their creative vision a show that was dynamic, dark, moody, and expressive. Tell us about the meeting you had early on with series creator Eric Kripke, and how you all found that you were on a similar creative wavelength. Eric wanted the show to be embedded in reality. He didn’t want to create a fantasy world. What he wanted to see were stories where the supernatural would manifest itself in real time and in real life. This is what he wanted to convey and I was in sync with this concept as I was talking about a naturalistic approach to the lighting. Moreover, and as an example, he was against slow-motion. He didn’t want to beautify the fights by camera techniques. Even to this day we sometimes ask ourselves, “What would Eric want?” And that’s one thing.

imagine this doesn't qualify since it's a nightmare/vision/whatever

excuse to get benny back (extremely briefly). and the screechy noise is back too. zero chance i'm getting through this episode in one sitting. (update: this is day 3 or 4, since i had to retranscribe it on top of it all)

am i seeing things or does that look like a keffiyeh. oh, right. the evil!sam vision thing, i forgot about that

lovely lighting and yes to sweaty highlights all day every day

SAM You know, I knew you’d come looking for me. After Sioux Falls… I suppose you had to. DEAN What you did to them… what you did to Bobby… to Jody… SAM They tried to stop me. But I will not be stopped. DEAN Sammy, listen to me. This is the demon blood. You have to fight it!

what year is this now? anyway so is sam gonna tell dean about this nightmare/vision/whatever fuckery orrr.

fingers crossed today is the day i can finally get this episode done. i get halfway into the conversation with dean calling out sam on not being okay and brain is jumping ahead three stations (dean's gonna make an assumption about what's bothering sam and so sam isn't gonna actually tell him what's going on)

SAM Yeah. But every time I ask for it, you say, and I’m quoting, "I don’t want any of that hippie, Sarah McLaughlin grass-eater crap in the Meat Man’s kitchen". Which, by the way, for what it’s worth, you got to stop calling yourself "The Meat Man." It… it doesn’t mean what you think it means. DEAN Yeah, it does.

i mean meat->dick thing i get but does anyone use that phrase

SAM I’m good. DEAN No, you’re not. The past few days, you’ve barely come outta your room. Look, man, I get it, okay? With Jack… and Rowena… Rowena knew what she was getting herself into. She knew what needed to be done. SAM Doesn’t make it any easier. DEAN No, it doesn’t.

so, no on the telling dean about the nightmare/vision whatever. at least in these late seasons, if it's a plot significant thing, i can have some confidence that they will talk about it sooner rather than later instead of dragging it out for half the season. but it also could have been a showy action piece that was fun to make but not really amount to anything :p

SAM That… that’s real bacon, Dean. DEAN You’re damn right it is. Meat Man!

jackles your eyeline is all wonky, what are you even looking at

DEAN Well, local police are freaked. Never seen anything like this. They got no idea how to deal. SAM Of course not. That’s our job. We keep them from dealing with the truth, with what’s out there, and we carry the weight. It’s great. Meanwhile, they get to go back to living in their white picket fence bubbles. DEAN You know, ever since you were a kid, you wanted to live in a town like this. Lame, normal… SAM Yeah, we don’t get normal. And these towns, everything’s the end of the world. You’re late for work, your kid doesn’t get into the right school… whatever. They don’t… They have no idea what’s out there.

that's a lot more bitter than sam usually goes. must be feeling really disillusioned

well, things are looking up on the becky front. first impression seems like she gets to be an actual human now instead of just a breathless obsessive creepy fan

BECKY You mean my work. Look, what you were writing, it was real… like, really real. You sort of channelled Sam and Dean’s lives because you’re a prophet. CHUCK I… Yeah. Yes, I am. BECKY And, sure, I got a little obsessed, and it took me to a dark place. What I did to Sam… [shudders] So, after some pretty intensive counselling, I realized I wasn’t in love with the real Sam Winchester. I loved his character. So instead of reading your stories, I kept writing my own.

well, i appreciate they acknowledge that plotline was gross and awful, if we're supposed to like her now

CHUCK Your own… “Supernatural”? BECKY Where the guys didn’t have to hunt monsters all the time. They just sit around and do laundry and talk, you know? I mean, that’s what people like the most, anyway.

show could take a smidge of its own advice here. like with the xfiles, you needed those goofy ass episodes to take the edge off the mytharc that you couldn't quite do with the monsters of the week alone. spn humor doesn't hit that spot (for me, at least) so how about just a little domesticity as a treat instead. like 11x04 baby

CHUCK Well, I mean, people like monsters. BECKY Meh. Anyway, I got an online following, and it wasn’t paying the bills, so I started making these handcrafted miniatures. They took off, started turning a profit, and here I am. CHUCK Right. Right, right, right, right, right. But people like monsters though. They do. I mean, Leviathans are cool. What? They’re all teeth!

first the bmol shade, now the leviathans. yes, thank you

CHUCK Things were said. Uh… Now I’ve found msyself low on, um… resources. I went to ask my sister for help, and she rejected me. ‘Cause she sucks. And now I’m just… stuck. So, I thought I’d come see you, my number-one fan. And, I don’t know, see if you can help make me feel big again. BECKY So, you want me to… fluff you?

uh huh.

CHUCK I mean, no. BECKY You do. You thought you could just come back to me, your pathetic ex, your number-one fan, and get what you’ve always gotten from me… a nice big crank on your ego. CHUCK Well, I mean… BECKY Well, sorry, that’s not me anymore, Chuck. I am married to an amazing man, I have two great kids, and I like myself, Chuck. For the first time in a long time, I like myself. So, I don’t need you.

tell him, becky. good for her. now this is a character flip flop i am 100% on board with and won't question

BECKY I’m a writer, too, Chuck. CHUCK Oh. I mean, fanfic… it’s not really the same thing… BECKY Writing’s writing.

100%. the rest of her speech is very boiler plate online writing advice but sure. the show does get kind of navel gaze-y meta about writers/writing

BECKY Okay. If I had to give one note… the jeopardy, Chuck. It’s feeling a little… thin? Low stakes? It’s fun to hear the boys’ voices, but a story is only as good as its villain, and these villains are just not feeling very… dangerous? Not to mention, there’s no classic rock. No one even mentions Cas. The climax is a little stale. Boys tied up again while we get the villain’s monologue, which, frankly, isn’t one of your best. A little originality wouldn’t… … hurt.

all-in on the meta shade

HENRY You don’t have children, do you? Because if you did, you would know, that to see your child in pain rips your heart out. And you’d know that you’d do anything. You’d die for them. JANET Or kill for them.

lol kids or (some) brothers

so the kid is offering himself up to be killed, like madison. ok. the music for the montage at the beginning i was groaning at generic rock instrumental but once the lyrics kicked in it was perfectly serviceable. and i see it's radio company/aka jensen's band's song. which the wiki talks about it was not at his behest. it's a little odd but his voice doesn't sound anything like dean, so it's not like it's noticeable. i had no clue until i read the trivia bits for it.

“To be honest our editor inquired about it. He said, ‘I know you did some music over the break, do you think we could take anything and plug it in?’ I wasn’t angling for that, I wasn’t pushing that, and in fact we didn’t even tell Bob or Andrew or anybody. We just floated it in there and waited to see if anybody said, ‘I don’t really care for that song, I don’t know who that is,'” Ackles says. “And nobody said that.” In addition to “Sounds of Someday” Ackles says he had a few other music cues in his director’s cut, including a big one at the end. “Two of the three got taken out; mine was the last one standing,” he says of his new single. “That was a small victory. That was a nice vote of confidence, especially from a show that prides itself on music so much.”

cringed a bit and felt guilty with that last line, being how consistently i've ragged on the music in this show. the licensed stuff usually is good to okay, occasionally i disagree with the tone. but it's the original score i take issue with for the most part. but still :p

and chuck zapped becky and family to i guess not dead-"away"

right, i stopped watching this (two nights ago now) because we're talking about being suicidal, again

SAM Yeah. What Henry did… we’d have done the same thing. For Jack. If we had the chance. DEAN Yeah. Yeah, we would. Look, man, I get it. I get it. We have lost way, way too much. And it’s hard not to feel like just… cashing out. I felt like that. After Chuck, back at the crypt. But you know what brought me back? You did. By sayin’ that what we do still matters.

before i rant about the music and shots, i went and rewatched that scene in the crypt which i thought was 15x01? i don't know what dean's referring to though, because they don't really talk about it? maybe like, 14x20 in the cemetary with the stupid gun? dean almost killing himself to kill soulless!jack? or maybe the lead up to sam shooting chuck

on to my rant about the clip. the filming is really weird in this scene. it's shakycam but at times, especially when on dean, it's tilting and floaty in a way that makes it seem like they're not in the car but it's a dream or something. and they have that driving at night film set down pat so it was a choice or something. and the music? buh.

it's a combo of reminding me of the original musical score to the magicians and i believe it's got the spn-interstellar-ish theme again that was in a sam and dean car conversation ([suicidal] deathbed apologies) in 14x12 (this ep is christopher lennertz and philip white, 14x12 was lennertz and tim wynn)

and the dialogue itself is very... speechy. combined with the weird fimilng angles and not getting right up in their business, it's kind of lost that intimacy of the car convo and moved it into inspirational speech

SAM I know, I know, I know. I’m sorry. I know. But… but what I’m saying is that I don’t feel free. What we’ve done, what we’ve lost, right now, that is what I’m feeling, and… and sometimes it’s… it’s like I-I-I can’t even breathe. But maybe tomorrow. You know, maybe I’ll… I’ll feel better in the morning. DEAN And what if you don’t? SAM I don’t know.

and sam describing to me what sounds like flavors of depression and anxiety that i'm personally all too familiar with, it's a lot. the bit about maybe i'll feel better in the morning, reminds me of a song that has struck a chord with me on the depression front for years now. you can't really do anything but try to just keep going even though everything is so hard and hurts

Sometimes in the morning I am petrified and can't move Awake, but cannot open my eyes And the weight is crushing down On my lungs, I know I can't breathe And hope someone will save me this time ... But the lows are so extreme That the good seems fucking cheap And it teases you for weeks in its absence But you'll fight and you'll make it through You'll fake it if you have to And you'll show up for work with a smile And you'll be better and you'll be smarter And more grown up and a better daughter Or son, and a real good friend And you'll be awake, you'll be alert You'll be positive though it hurts

and this edit after the s4 magicians finale to this song changed me at a fundamental level (it's a fix-it)

(also on tumblr)

i know jared's history with talking about his mental health, which i've very much appreciated, and feels like bleeding some of that into sam which is a little unexpected but i think it's good, just tilted me a bit because sometimes things that are too relatable are.. too relatable :p

[winderlylandchime]

I really am my brothers sister because I completely forgot that I came to your blog to tell you something the second I saw Gale’s face. My bad!!

But now to tell you what I came here to say originally. My dumb brother (yes, that is necessary) sprained his ankle. He’s fine but he is now again on bed rest for a few days or whatever and he has crutches which has been proven is a dangerous thing for him to have.. And on top of that he got sick with a fever…again (cus the face palm moment)

Now i know you’re probably wondering what the hell did he do now? Well let me tell you the story that is making the whole family laugh (in a loving way) He took out the trash and kept his door just slightly open to keep the cat inside and as he was trying to sneak back in, Brian took his opportunity and broke free and my brother ran after him and since he was only in slippers and it was raining like crazy he- and I say this with love- ate shit. And in the process of that he also locked himself and the cat outside. In a tank top and shorts.

The good thing is our aunt lives near him so he just went to hers and she took him to the ER and helped break into his house again but the bad thing is that when she took him to the ER, they’re also used of him there bc i wish this was the first time he stupidly injured himself. So the second he walked in they went “oh come on (his name), what did you do now?”

Since he has a ring camera we now have a video of him trying to sneak inside going ‘move, Brian, moooove. Bri, don’t make me use grown up words’ and then Brian escaped and he after him screaming ‘BRIAN YOU LITTLE DICK COME BACK HERE RIGHT NOW! YOU LIL SHIT COME HERE ITS FUCKING RAINI- (this is where he ate shit)’ and you just see darkness and then hear him go ‘oh now you come to me!’ He sent the video to everyone he knew. And ngl it is my favorite thing in the world.

But anyway the reason why I’m even bothering telling you all of this, is to say that this bed rest and him being sick for like two days lead to something that he called extreme boredom and he ended up making an ao3 account. I repeat, the man made an ao3 account. He briefly entertained the idea of tumblr but since he sucks, so he just made an ao3 account. I was actually shocked when he asked me for the invitation and how it works and everything. He has not told me yet if he just wants to use it to leave kudos or what but i guess this is a PSA.

OH NOOOOO!!!! Brother anon!

Listen, I sliced my hand last week in a (failed) attempt to save skincare from falling out of my medicine cabinet and learned that my partner of 17 years gets faint at the sight of blood. So we FaceTimed my father-in-law when it was 1 am his time because he's a former paramedic to determine if I should go to the ER.

I also once sprained my ankle trying to save my coffee while I was mid-trip. Spoiler: I did not save the coffee AND my ankle was fucked.

One time my partner when ass over head tripping over my sister-in-law's dog and it was caught on a nanny-cam and I made it into a gif.

So there's a long history on my end of injuries in dumb ways so I feel empathy for your brother. This is a good lesson that a cat is gonna cat and will definitely sneak out if given the chance.

BROTHER ANON IS ON AO3!! That is incredible! Welcome to the incredible world of fanfiction Brother! My collection of my favorite QAF fics is here Also every other TV show and movie he has ever enjoyed probably has fanfiction on AO3.