who cares if it's a dream

The gods are among us.

Zeus drinks himself half to death at the bar. He makes bedroom eyes at every pretty girl to walk in the room. They will clutch their cans of mace a little tighter as they walk home tonight.

Aphrodite helps a beaten girl to her feet, holding her tight as her young body is racked with sobs. Artemis stands nearby, preparing to hunt the thief of this young girl’s innocence. These are the only hunts she participates in anymore.

Athena glares at Ares as bloody knuckles and booted feet connect with battered bodies between them. The fight clubs are their temples now.

Dionysus stands behind a bar, serving drinks to rowdy men and pretty girls. Later, he will be found holding back the hair of girls, too young for the drinks they swallowed, as they vomit the concoctions they drank to forget the pain in the world. Dionysus understands and so he drinks more than anyone, if only to forget the suffering that has filled his immortal life.

Hestia mourns the numerous broken homes. She puts extra effort in protecting the scant few happy families left. So Hestia has created a home for those lost and abandoned, for she too knows how it feels to be cast out by the family who should have loved you unconditionally. She understands what it feels like to be adrift and homeless.

Apollo sits on a busy, crowded street, strumming his guitar and singing a song of loss and pain. He uses poetry and music to mourn the pain in the world. He berates himself constantly, because for every life he saves, ten more are extinguished. He has stopped visiting hospitals because he can’t help but feel his efforts are futile. He hasn’t seen his sister in years, and he misses her most at night, when he can see her beloved stars and moon.

Hermes slumps in a chair, exhausted from the horror gracing the human news. He decides he is no longer deserving of the title “messenger of the gods,” since he hasn’t delivered a message in centuries. Not when the gods no longer keep in touch. So he reverts to his favorite pastime: stealing. But what use is mortal money to a god?

Hera sits in the shadows of a bar and struggles to summon the dredges of the vindictive, jealous anger that used to come so easily to her when she saw her husband with another woman. Hera thinks that perhaps in this modern world, she would do better as the goddess of divorce. Because, really, how can she profess that marriage is the best gift the world has to offer when she can’t even keep her husband in her bed? When he doesn’t even bother pretending that he loves her? Yes, goddess of failed marriages has such a lovely, miserable ring to it.

Poseidon wanders the beach, picking up the scattered trash that poisons his domain. His tears mix with the salt water on his cheeks and he weeps for the suffering of his oceans. He feels the pollution like a phantom pain, and he scoffs at himself, full of loathing for the god of the sea who could not protect his oceans from mortals.

Hades lounges in his extravagant mansion, smiling at his lovely wife curled at his side. Blessed is he, for there will always be death, and mortals will always worship his riches. Of all his siblings, Hades, the scorned brother, cursed to rule the underworld, is the only one to still enjoy immortality.

Persephone is as beautiful as ever and she is happy with her loving husband who always joins her in her protests, right alongside her as she weeps for for the dying of this earth, as she cries herself to sleep at night when she thinks of all the loss of nature’s beauty and life. This world is suffering and she is the only one to hear its cries. They haunt her dreams.

Hecate flips the sign on the window to say closed. She longs for days gone by when people knew the truth. Magic is very real. Instead, she has to smile politely while customers come to her store to purchase items they know not how to use and religious men preach about how witchcraft is a sin, and she will burn in hell. Hecate does not care. She is as immortal as magic.

Cupid narrows his eyes with scorn every time he hears the word love fly from the lips of people who do not understand the meaning of the word. Though who is he to judge them when all his matchmaking attempts end in failure. Perhaps the mortals simple do not want him to decide who they love. Perhaps it is their turn to choose.

Athena prowls through college campuses, holding signs high in protect with the students around her. These fearless children are her people. She scoffs at the professors who are simply going through the motions, who fail to appreciate the brilliant minds all around them. She never fails to notice.

Ares picks his way across a battlefield and finds himself at the ruins of what used to be an elementary school. He no longer understands war, hasn’t for centuries. This was not brave, this was not heroic. This was senseless bloodshed. He sees nothing holy in this ruined world.

Aphrodite swallows the bile in her throat as she hears another rapist has been left free. She glares daggers at boys yelling obscene things at women. She’s long stopped romanticizing love. However, sometimes she sees a young girl handing over her baby to an older couple who tried for years, and she remembers what she once represented. Sometimes she sees Ares across the room of soldiers returning from the horrors of war, and as they embrace the loved ones they left behind, she smiles at him.

Artemis takes her role as protector of young women seriously. There’s a gun tucked into her waistband and a switchblade in her pocket. She can’t save them all, so she has also become an avenging goddess. She can be found in the streets or at battered women’s shelters, preparing for the next hunt.

The gods are dying. The gods wish they were dead. Is immortality a blessing or a curse?

—  The gods were always too human for their divinity (inspired by the writings of @crossroadsbela )

OFF THE CUFF HOMESTUCK THOUGHTS #3: THE SELF PILE DOESN’T STOP FROM GETTING TALLER OR: THE PROBLEM OF DEAD MARIOS

DISCLAIMER

IMPORTANT THEORETICAL FRAMEWORK

[CHECK THE TAG FOR MORE THOUGHTS]

So, a long-ass time ago, Rose and Dave had a conversation like this:

TT: After you go, what do you think will happen to me?
TT: Will I just cease to exist?
TG: i dont know
TG: i mean your whole timeline will
TG: maybe
TT: Maybe?
TT: Is there a chance it’ll continue to exist, and I’ll just be here alone forever?
TT: I’m not sure which outcome is more unsettling.
TG: the thing with time travel is
TG: you cant overthink it
TG: just roll with it and see what happens
TG: and above all try not to do anything retarded
TT: What do you think I should do?
TG: try going to sleep
TG: our dream selves kind of operate outside the normal time continuum i think
TG: so if part of you from this timelines going to persist thats probably the way to make it happen
TT: Ok.
TG: and hey you might even be able to help your past dream self wake up sooner without all that fuss you went through
TT: I think the true purpose of this game is to see how many qualifiers we can get to precede the word “self” and still understand what we’re talking about.

This is the most important sentence in Homestuck.

I am dead serious.

Well, OK, I mean, it’s pretty important for understanding some major Homestuck themes and shit or something like that.

Also, I totally should have said: Pre-Retcon Doomed Timeline Non-Dreamself Rose but ultimately about to become Dreamself Rose who semi-merged with Pre-Retcon Alpha Timeline Rose and Doomed Timeline Dave aka Davesprite AKA future Davepetasprite^2 or as we all call them around the office, Davepeta, had that conversation.

Maybe you begin to see what I’m going to talk about here.

One of the major frustrations a lot of people had with the retcon was that the characters we ended up with at the end weren’t the ones we’d come to love and know throughout the story. Was it even worth it, to lose the characters we loved to the tyranny of Game Over? The victorious kids, with the exception of John and Roxy, were other people, with other histories, other goals, and other choices.

Allow me to submit that that may be the whole point.

SBURB is cruel. We’ve known that for a long time. It’s cruel not as Caliborn is cruel, but as the cosmos is cruel, as a supernova is cruel. It wants what it wants, and doesn’t care about how that intersects with the needs of humanity. It wants to make universes through a complex game-playing method, and drags hapless, vulnerable adolescents along for the ride. And most of the time it doesn’t even succeed, leaving its champions to rot in a doomed timeline or similar! Skaia’s victory is an amoral creation myth where individual human beings are just the carved pieces on the chessboard. (I mean, the other ones. Not the carapacians.)

Again, let’s consider the theme of VIDEO GAMES vs. REAL LIFE.

Homestuck, let’s be real, is basically some postmodern horror timey-wimey Jumanji. For a generation way more familiar with pixels than cute little tokens It’s easy for teenagers and in fact, basically everyone, to fantasize about escaping their life and slipping into some game world forever, where they get to do awesome things and be a heroic person.

Homestuck makes that literal. Congratulations, everything you ever knew is dead. You will never see it again, except your internet friends, who turn out also to be your family and other important people. I mean, from a distance, SBURB sounds like an awesome game, right? You figure out who you are and get to wear a cool costume displaying that identity. You get to make anything you want and enjoy this hyperflexible mythology tailored to YOUR CHOICES. HS fans talk all the time about how cool it would be to play a real version of SBURB. That’s a big part of the appeal of SBURB fan adventures. They put you and your friends in the story. Or your favorite characters! It sounds like a fantasy come true.

The thing is, as fantastical as it is, it’s also really fucked up, and ultimately you and your friends are being used. By a giant frog to let it have its babies. By the universe. By a smug blue cloud thing that doesn’t care about you at all.

SBURB does not care about you at all.

The funny thing, SBURB features a mythology with so many layers and nuances and seemingly human motifs about growth and self that you might search for some grand ultimate meaning behind it, but it’s not even human enough to have a personality, to be something you can argue with or fight. It just is. It’s all the cruelty and power of a god without any of the dazzling personality. It’s empty. It just wants to make universes all day long, or fail trying. It is a great, weird tadpole-making machine that eats children.

One of the big ways it doesn’t care about you is its attitude toward the self. Humans and trolls and whatnot prefer not to be relentlessly duplicated. SBURB says, oh yeah, let’s make tons of copies of the player characters and use them for a lot of different purposes.

There’s the dreamself, an essential bifurcation of identity (you are now and were always the dream moon princex) that sometimes gets merged into god tier but sometimes doesn’t. There’s doomed timeline selves, who exist ultimately to augment an Alpha timeline whose Alphaness is decided very arbitrarily and frequently by Lord English. There’s the you who exists before a scratched session and the you who exists afterward, who are two different people but started as one baby in an act of ectobaby meteor duplication, your player self and your guardian self. Dead timeline yous fill up the dreambubbles made by the horrorterrors and get endlessly confused with each other. Any one of these could be the you experience being at any given moment, and which one it is entirely arbitrary. Don’t like being Dead Nepeta #47? Tough hoofbeast leavings, kiddo.

To top it all off, in Terezi: Remember, we learn that every single time we thought someone changed from one self to another, was resurrected or something like that, it was another act of duplication. For every time someone’s died, there’s another version of them waiting in the Dream Bubbles, surprised that they’re not the main character anymore. And we have no way of knowing which is which. Even John, good old everyman John, may or may not be the person who died three or four times. It’s really impossible to say whether we’ve been following the same person throughout our story, or just the illusion of the same person, like a horrifying cosmic flipbook.

The retcon is a return to this same theme. Ultimately, there’s very little new in the changes John makes to reality except that they drive the point home.

John’s friends all died. John and his friends won the game. These things are both true at the same time, except those things may not have happened to the same people. There was a happy ending. Hooray! For, um, some folks who may or may not be the ones we care about. In fact, it’s very confusing, because from Rose’s perspective, Roxy is dead but came back to life, and from Roxy’s perspective Rose is dead but came back to life, except also she came back to life as a weird tentacle catgirl of pure id and self –indulgence. So there’s that. Um. Which Rose are we rooting for again?

Or wait: is it none of them, because the first Rose died in a doomed timeline, hundreds of panels and a number of years ago?

There’s a tension here which one experiences between saying it’s okay because it’s still the same people, and saying it’s not okay, because it’s not the same people at all. This tension is exactly what we’re meant to wrestle with. To put it another way, Homestuck asks if identity can work in aggregate. Are all Johns John, all Roses Rose, and do they all share in what they accomplish? Or are the final victors only accidents created by the whims and needs of the frog baby machine?

What I’m saying, basically, is that the retcon, in the sense that it pointed out our confused relationship with these characters, was already here.

In interviews and questions put to him over the years, Hussie constantly compares HS and SBURB to other video games, particularly Mario, which he frequently returns to as a baseline of comparison that most of his readers will know. One answer, from a recent Hiveswap interview, is particularly revelatory. To the question of “Why do you kill off all your characters?” Hussie replies:

[…]HS is supposedly a story that is also a game. In games, the characters die all the time. How many times did you let Mario fall in the pit before he saved the princess? Who weeps for these Marios. In games your characters die, but you keep trying and trying and rebooting and resetting until finally they make it. When you play a game this process is all very impersonal. Once you finally win, when all is said and done those deaths didn’t “count”, only the linear path of the final victorious version of the character is considered “real”. Mario never actually died, did he? Except the omniscient player knows better. HS seems to combine all the meaningless deaths of a trial-and-error game journey with the way death is treated dramatically in other media, where unlike our oblivious Mario, the characters are aware and afraid of the many deaths they must experience before finally winning the game.

The big man hass the answer.

Homestuck is the story of those dead Marios.

Other works, like Undertale, have engaged with this topic as well. But one of the major differences between Undertale and Homestuck is that in Undertale, between “lives,” one’s consciousness is preserved. In Homestuck, it’s discontinuous, and the value of the overall trial-error process is called into question by the fact that you, the player, may not even get to experience the victory. What meaning does victory hold if that is the case?

So, to put it in a nice thesis format:

One of the central themes of Homestuck is the challenge of reconciling an arbitrary and destructive pattern of growth and victory with the death and suffering you experienced along the way. Homestuck asks: is victory worthwhile if you’re not you anymore? And would you be able to know?

What even is the self? Is there such a thing?

If you were left feeling somewhat disconcerted by our heroes’ tidy victory and departure to their cosmic prize, or by how which Rose gets the spotlight is so deeply, deeply arbitrary, there’s a good reason for that. You’re supposed to be.

The philosophical problem of Wacky Cat Rose is insignificant next to the bullshit of SBURB.

And don’t forget—John and Roxy’s denizens helped them achieve the retcon. Ultimately, the victory they achieved was mediated by the same amoral system of SBURB, and was a victory over an enemy, Caliborn, whose power was created, perpetuated, and ended by that same system.

Okay, so here’s where it gets contentious. There’s an argument to be made, which I’m not sure how I feel about, that some of the character development that could have been in post-retcon Act 6 was left out precisely to push this feeling and play up this tension. Note that this is not the same thing as saying that they were deliberately badly written, but that they’re deliberately written to make us uneasy.That Hussie deliberately played with the balance between making these retconned characters feel familiar and making them feel eerily different to leave us feeling uneasy with the result.

I’m not sure I like that idea. It smacks a little too much of that “everything is perfect” thinking that comes sometimes from the far Metastuck camp. Some of the differences may also be the result of flawed writing. (See: Jane and Jake’s character arcs, which I might talk about later.) And I want to be able to critique those flaws. Ultimately, I think we still needed more time and development to figure out who these new people were—even if our goal was ultimately to compare them to their earlier selves. And again, more conscious acknowledgement of the problem from our heroes—especially John, the linchpin in this last and biggest act of duplication—might have helped drive this theme home.

Still, I think the Problem of Dead Marios is one of the most fundamental questions of Homestuck, maybe THE biggest question. It’s essential to understand it to understand what Hussie’s doing—or attempting to do— in the retcon and the ending.

I don’t know that Homestuck offers us a clear answer to that question. There are some confusions around the issue, too. Where do merged selves fit in, exactly? Clearly they’re a big part of the discussion, because Hussie spends some time in Act 6, especially near the end bringing the identity-merging powers of the Sprites to the forefront. (See also: the identity-merged nightmare that is Lord English.)  Can we even come up with a clear answer to what it means when a dead Mario returns to life grotesquely fused with Toad? How does he beat the game? Does he tell himself that the princess is in another castle? Or what if he merges with Peach? Are they their own princess? How do they know if they’re in the right castle?

Um. Anyway—

Interestingly, it’s not all grotesque—spritesplosions suggest that personalities that are too different don’t stay together long, so a fusion might rely on some inherent compatibility between the two players. Erisol’s self-loathing, sure, but also Fefeta’s cheerfulness. Davepeta seems to be a way of bringing out the best in their players, a way of getting Davesprite past his angst and Nepeta past her fear. Honestly, I know a lot of people don’t like Davepeta as the ending of these two characters’ arcs, but I can’t help but love it. They’re the ultimate coolkid. Cool enough to know they don’t have to be cool. Regular Dave got there, too, of course. But was his retcon assist from John ultimately any different?

Then, of course, we come to Davepeta’s speech to Jade in one of the last few updates before Collide. Davepeta suggests that there is such a thing as an ultimate self beyond the many different selves one piles up throughout the cosmos. A set of principles that describes who you are that’s larger than any individual instance of you. Your inherent Mariohood. (Maybe this is comparable to your Classpect identity, which attempts to describe who you are?) Davepeta even tells Jade, strikingly, that one might learn to see beyond the barriers between selves. Be the ur-self, in practice, rather than theory. This would be incredible news for Jade, who wrestles with the issue of different selves perhaps more than any other character. (There’s a lot to say about Jade.)

Honestly, I wish this ur-self idea had been developed more, and I honestly expected it to be. It doesn’t fully come to fruition, I feel. (Same goes for Davepeta’s character. Ohhhh, ZING!) I’m not sure it entirely makes philosophical sense, especially with fusion—I mean, doesn’t Davepeta themself disprove it? Or at least complicate it? Like, are they part of the ur-Dave or the ur-Nepeta? They seem to imply they’re BOTH? Does that even work? Does that mean that Marieach is all the Peaches and Marios at once?

(In fact, Bowser/Peach/Mario are but the three manifestations of one eternal principle. Also, Bowser/Peach are the true power couple. Read my fanfiction plz.)

And what, say, of Dirk, who ultimately ends up rejecting aspects of his other selves? It feels like there’s a lot more you could say here, and I wonder if Hussie would have said more, if he’d had time. What’s weird is, none of our victorious kids never reach an ur-self (though to their descendants, they become archetypal to some degree), which one might have expected. They’re just individual selves who happened to get lucky. Does that make them representative of the whole? It feels like something’s missing here, or like something got dropped at the last minute.

Same goes for the idea of the Ultimate Riddle. You’d be forgiven for missing it, but there’s been this riddle in the background lore of SBURB that seems to have something to do with personal agency in this overwhelming, overarching system. Karkat called it predestination, saying something like “ANY HOPE YOU HAD OF DOING THINGS OTHERWISE WAS JUST A RUSE.” But others have interpreted it more positively. My favorite interpretation, from bladekindeyewear: the answer to the Riddle is that YOU shape the timeline through your existence, personality, and choices, even when it looks like it’s all predestination. Ultimately it’s your predestination, your set of events, based deeply on your nature, that you are creating. Someone like Caliborn can use his innate personality to achieve power; someone like John might be able to use it to achieve freedom.

I definitely expected something like that to be expressed more explicitly. Like, a big ah-ha moment that helps John or Jade or whoever understand how to escape Caliborn’s system. Something like that would have been very helpful for a lot of our heroes, actually, who’ve been pushed around by Skaia and SBURB together, in finding a cathartic ending.  Once again, I wonder if something was dropped or rushed because there wasn’t time to put it all in. There’s places where you can see hints of that Answer being implied, maybe? But it’s kind of ambiguous.

You can see how the Answer to the Ultimate Riddle ties into some of Davepeta’s ideas. If your personality, the rules of your behavior are a fundamental archetype that goes beyond each individual self, then the answer to whether it matters if one self of yours makes it through to victory is an emphatic YES. You are all of those people, and by winning one round with Skaia, you’ve won the whole game, despite all the arbitrary challenges and deaths it heaps upon you along the way.

This may strike some as too positive for Skaia’s brutality, or again, some way of excusing flaws in many characters’ arcs, or unfair things that happen to them. To be fair, I don’t know that Davepeta’s necessarily meant to be taken as authoritative or the voice of Hussie. They may simply be offering a purrspective.

Hussie not choosing to come right out and engage with the Ultimate Riddle leaves the question of Dead Marios and what they mean for the victorious versions of our cast very open. I like that in some ways—let the reader decide—but I can’t help but wish we had more to work with in making that decision. Plus, it might have brought the thematic messages of Homestuck all the way home to tie them more closely to our characters and their experiences—character development being one of the things most people found most lacking in the ending.

NEXT TIME: All that wacky gnostic stuff probably

I’m Not His, I’m Yours // A Dylan O’Brien Smut

Prompt: Just prepare your eyes for some very dirty filth.

Warnings: NSFW, Explicit Sexual Content, Jealous!Dylan, Dominant!Dylan, Daddy!Dylan, Fingering, Orgasm Denial, Oral (female on male), Spanking, Daddy Kink, and Swearing.

Relationship: Dylan O’Brien x Reader

Word Count: 4,951

Song: Hands To Myself by Selena Gomez

A/N: THIS IS THE RESULT OF ME AND @failingmemequeen GOING ABSOLUTELY INSANE FOR DADDY DYLAN O’BRIEN. SHE CAME UP WITH THIS IDEA AND TOTALLY ENCOURAGED ME TO WRITE IT SO THANK HER FOR BEING THE BEAUTIFUL PERSON THAT SHE IS. I LOVE YOU MADI DADDY AND ABSOLUTELY ENJOYED PUTTING OUR CONJOINED FANTASIES INTO ONE.

Your name: submit What is this?

Originally posted by spidermanm

“I’m gonna kill them.” Dylan complained over the phone and I laughed at his impatience.

“No, you’re not, baby.” I chuckled, coaxing him the best I could. “It’s just one more day ‘till the weekend. You can survive this, I know it.”

“I swear to God, if either one of them annoys me one more time-”

“Then, I’ll destroy them myself.” I answered and Dylan let out a deep breath.

“I have to go, but I don’t want to hang up on you.” My boyfriend groaned over the line. “Can we just stay on the phone for the rest of the day?”

“No, Dylan.” I laughed and I could tell the sound alone made him feel a little more at ease. “We have to be responsible here. But, tell you what, when it’s time for your next break we can Skype call. What do you think?”

“I think that you’re the best girlfriend a guy could ask for and I love you very much.” Dylan swooned and I could practically hear the smile in his voice.

“I love you, too.” I responded, smiling as well. “Now go, I don’t want you getting fired.”

“They can’t fire me, it’s the last season!” Dylan laughed wholeheartedly and I laughed along with him.

That’s what our relationship mostly consisted of: smiling, laughing, fun, and heart eyes. Even though Dylan has been beyond stressed lately because of everything that’s happened in the course of the past two years, we never fail to make each other happy. Things have been very intense for him ever since the accident that shall not be mentioned. Shooting The Death Cure had to be pushed back to this year, Dylan had to stay home for six months and try to avoid paparazzi harassment at all times, he needed to physically train for American Assassin and completely go against his doctor’s recommendations, deal with crazy fans that literally sent him death threats when they found out he wouldn’t be in all of season 6B for Teen Wolf, and even manage to audition for future projects to top it all off. Stress has been very imminent in Dylan’s life and I always felt like it was my job to make him feel better.

Which is why, being the amazing girlfriend I am, I wasn’t going to just Skype call him. I was going to personally go over to his work and give him a fun little surprise.

With excitement running through my veins, I jumped up from my position on our bed together and immediately ran to the bathroom for a shower. Dylan’s next break should be in about an hour, considering he doesn’t have a lot of scenes to shoot this year, so I knew I had to get ready quick.

Once I was out of the shower, I put on Dylan’s favorite red lingerie and took a good look in the mirror. The way the strong red color contradicted with my skin tone will definitely drive him crazy and I can already feel myself getting wet at the thought alone. I didn’t even bother putting on any pants because I knew I wouldn’t really need them and, instead, I picked up the t-shirt Dylan used to sleep from our messy med and slipped it on. Bringing the fabric up to my nose, I took a deep breath and glady breathed in his incredible smell. Sure, I see him everyday but I can’t help feeling addictive and always needed more of him.

Putting on makeup right now just to see Dylan would be useless considering he was going to smudge it up anyway. Therefore, with a smile om my face and exhilaration running through my veins, I put on my black stillettos and grabbed my car keys to head for the Teen Wolf lot. It didn’t take too long to get there and, in a matter of fifteen minutes, I was already greeting Phil the security guard as he let me pass the barrier and enter the studio.

The first thing I did was park my car in an area Dylan would never spot and, then, gladly entered his trailer. Since Dylan hasn’t been in the greatest mood lately, I knew for a fact that he wasn’t going to stick around on set in between scenes like he usually does. From what he told me on the phone, Cody and Sprayberry have been driving him crazy all week and he’s definitely going to want as much distance as possible. Which is where I come in and make him feel all kinds of good before returning to work for the rest of the day.

Having patiently waited for Dylan, laid on his pull-out bed, I immediately jumped up and fixed myself to look sexier the moment the door to his trailer flew open. The look of surprise and immediate lust in Dylan’s eyes when he entered, instantly, made desire crash down on my body. I already knew that I would be putty in his hands in a matter of seconds. Without even saying anything, Dylan just slowly closed the door behind him and took off his sneakers as he licked his lips in anticipation.

“Do you have any idea how good you look just wearing my shirt on?” Dylan questioned, his eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“Do you have any idea how much better I’ll look once you take it off?” I teased, smirking up at him.

My words definitely sparked something in him because Dylan instantly jumped on me, the intense sexual tension in the air an incredible influence on him. I giggled at his excitement and his lips were quickly on mine as my fingers instinctively ran through his hair. I smiled when Dylan’s tongue slid across my bottom lip, already asking for an entrance, and I didn’t think twice before opening my mouth for him. He allowed me to call the shots and would moan everytime I played with his tongue skillfully.

When we both needed to breathe again, Dylan detached his lips from mine and gently caressed my cheeks with his soft hands. His eyes gazed into mine with such emotion and care that a blush immediately made its way on my skin. Dylan never failed to make me feel special and I adored how intimate our relationship was. I always thought that intimacy was about allowing someone to touch you, but it’s so much more. Intimacy is someone who touches you beyond just the physical contact because they find a way to your soul. Intimacy is who you text at four in the morning to share your biggest fears and dreams. Intimacy is the person always in the back of your mind, no matter how distracted you are.

“I love you.” Dylan whispered before pulling off his shirt I was wearing and placing a gentle kiss on my mouth.

The moment he realized I had put on his favorite lingerie set, Dylan couldn’t hold back the immediate moan that fell from his pink lips. His eyes raked my entire body and I felt his cock slightly twitch against my thigh, through his red crimson pants he wore for Stiles’ character. Standing up from the the pull-out bed, Dylan began unbuckling his belt.

Suddenly, the door to his trailer immediately flew open and the both of us froze in absolute shock. I didn’t even have the thought in me to cover myself up with something, anything, before the intruders invaded Dylan’s safe space.

“Hey, Dyl, are you trying to hide from us?” Sprayberry immediately hollered when he and Cody were inside, both instantly stopping in their tracks once they noticed their co-worker wasn’t alone. “Oh, my God!”

“What the hell are you guys doing here?!” Dylan shouted angrily, the veins on his neck bulging against his skin.

Well, looks like someone’s stress is officially back.

“W-We, uh, W-We,” Sprayberry stuttered trying to answer, but was too astonished to form an actual sentence.

Much like Dylan did just moments ago, Cody’s eyes raked my entire body and, by the way he was biting down on his bottom lip, he definitely seemed to like what he saw. Before I could even do anything, Dylan jumped back on the bed and instinctively covered my body with his. Embarrassment and uncomfort took over my emotions as my boyfriend protected me, shielding my body from unwelcome eyes.

“Get! Out!” Dylan yelled, his Alpha male side appearing now that someone glanced at his female without his permission. “NOW!”

Sprayberry was the first to immediately sprint into action, forcefully pulling Cody out the door with him and literally having to tear his gaze off of my body. I let out a nervous breath I didn’t even know I was holding in the second the door sounded shut and the two actors were finally out of the trailer.

“Damn, it’s a good thing I wasn’t naked yet, right?” I chuckled nervously, trying to make the best out of this situation. However, it was no use. Dylan was furious and no longer in the light-hearted mood like before.

“He was totally eye-fucking you and that’s what concerns you the most?” Dylan scolded and even though he was angry, my entire body filled with desire.

Dylan’s usually very sweet, but every now and then he goes completely dominant and it’s the sexiest fucking thing ever. The way he pulls my hair as he forcefully pounds into me or roughly spanks me just because I went against one of his many commands always had me on the edge.

“You’re right.” I smiled innocently, looking up at him as he noticed the tension change in the room. “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

The flicker in his eyes immediately went from rage to complete and utter lust the second I let the kinky title he loves so damn much come out of my mouth. The warm and golden-brown color once in his eyes was replaced with a dark black, his pupils now dilated to the maximum. Dylan’s bulge pressed against his pants and  I couldn’t take my eyes off of it, knowing exactly what stood beneath the fabric. Although he wasn’t the only one turned on beyond comprehension as arousal pooled uncomfortably in my panties and I desperately wanted them off of me.

Reaching my hand down to my panties to get rid of it, Dylan’s hand suddenly gripped my wrist and stopped me from moving any further.

“Did I say you could do anything yet?” Dylan questioned.

I gulped and slowly shook my head, his eyes focusing on my lip when I bit down on it. He let go of me without another word, but it didn’t even feel like he did because of his addictive touch still lingering on my skin. Dylan stood up and walked over to the door, locking it as he licked his lips with his eyes trailing over my body.

“Take off your bra.” He commanded, walking back over but not sitting down.

“What?” I asked as I watched him take off his shirt, the sight of his impressive form stunning me.

“Ah, ah, ah, babygirl. You know the rules.” Dylan tsked, shaking his head as he unbuckled his belt like before and opened his pants. “Only speak when I give you the permission to.”

Heat rushed throughout my entire body until it landed with full force in my core. Dylan and I had this little game whenever he was dominant and it was one of my favorite fucking things. The game was simple, but absolutely drove me crazy: Dylan would give me three chances and if I strike out every single one of them, he had no other choice than to punish me.

“Strike one.” Dylan stated, a smirk playing on my lips with what he said next. “And I know you just heard what I demanded.”

At the same time that I reached behind my own back to unclasp my bra, Dylan dropped his pants. His erection pressed hard against his boxers, the gray fabric slightly wet from his arousal. When both of us finished taking off our pieces of clothing, Dylan’s eyes were already glued onto my now exposed perky breasts.

“Now your panties.”

My boyfriend and I pulled both of our underwear off our bodies, watching the other intently. As soon as we were free of clothing and completely exposed to each other, Dylan grabbed himself in his hand and stroked his shaft slowly. The sight of Dylan pumping himself as his eyes gazed on my body turned me on in ways that I can’t even explain.

“Touch yourself, babygirl.” He commanded, my mind melting at his husky voice.

Following his orders, I sat up straight on the bed and spread apart by legs for him to have a full view which made him moan in response. I brought my hand down to my already soaking core and gently slid my finger through my folds, separating them. Slowly rubbing small circles against my clitoris, I couldn’t help but let out a moan. I watched as Dylan used his thumb to caress his tip and I desperately wanted it in my mouth, but I knew that I had to follow his order or else I’d be punished. However, being punished by him does sound very inviting.

Using my other hand to pinch my nipples and tease not only myself but also Dylan, I noticed his grip tighten around his member. Dylan let out an unsatisfied groan when I took my hand away from my breast, but then immediately moaned when I used it to push a finger inside my heat. My back instantly arched and I let out a whimper at the feeling, provoking him to pick up his pace around himself.

“You look so beautiful pleasuring yourself, princess.” Dylan grunted as I moved faster along with him.

Of course I knew how to work myself and make my body feel good, but there’s no denying that Dylan is so much better at it. The way his long and skillfull fingers knowingly curl up inside of me in such a perfect way that not even I knew how to do or the way his sinful tongue flicks expertly against my nub has me wishing that he would just jump on top of me already. But, if there’s one thing Dylan O'Brien certainly loves being is a fucking tease.

“Fuck, baby. Even though this feels good, nothing compares to your beautiful lips and warm mouth wrapped around my cock.” He moaned as my body craved for his touch. “Stop what your doing and come kneel in front of me.”

An exciting idea roared to life in me when I decided to ignore Dylan’s command and willingly get my next strike. I tuned out whatever he had to say and focused on the incredible feeling of my finger pumping inside of me purely to spite him. Which definitely worked because in a matter of seconds I could hear Dylan growling and approaching me. I, suddenly, felt his hands rip mine away from my body and forcefully pull me into him, our naked bodies against each other as we stood.

“Strike two.” He warned through gritted teeth, his jaw clenching and looking sexy as ever.

Before I even knew it, Dylan pushed me down to kneel in front of him and harshly grabbed onto my hair with his hands. Bringing my own hands up, I held onto his thigh with one hand and wrapped around his base with the other. I smirked at Dylan as I licked my lips and gawked at the delicious sight in front of me. I gladly took Dylan’s tip inside of my mouth and he immediately moaned when I did. The first thing my tongue came into contact with was his precum and I can’t deny that I love the salty taste. As I gently sucked his head, my hand began to slowly pump his dick.

One of the many things I love about Dylan is that he’s very responsive and isn’t ashamed in letting me know exactly what he liked. Which is why I already knew that one of his favorite things I do when I give him a blowjob is lick his prominent vein on the underside of his cock at the same time that I very lightly and very carefully graze my teeth against his topside. Dylan let out a throaty groan the second I did exactly that and it seemed to light a fire in him because he immediately took control.

My boyfriend pushed himself fully into my mouth until he was hitting the back of my throat and I was gagging around him, only for him to pull away and do the exact same thing again. Dylan was happily fucking my mouth and, to be honest, I didn’t even mind it. The lust was so far deep in my blood that all I could focus on was how sexy he looked as he practically used me as a fuck toy and how damn good he tasted.

I hollowed my mouth around him to create a much tighter environment for him and the filthy sounds of his shameless moans erupting from his chest made my core ache more than it already had. Due to the fast pace and my wet mouth, it didn’t take long for Dylan to reach his much needed release. I hummed when he unloaded and his hot cum shot straight down my throat, his hips bucking in response.

Once Dylan came down from his high, I pulled him out of my mouth and he shuddered at the contact due to how sensitive he’d become. Wiping away the spit on my mouth and any cum spilling down my chin, I stood up with a smirk on my lips and Dylan immediately kissed me. His dominance faltering for the slightest second so he could show me how much he cared for me through the gentle action. However, the moment we parted, dominant Dylan was back.

“Can you sit on the chair for me, babygirl?” He pointed to the chair under his desk he uses to study his lines as he headed over to the small closet.

“Yes, Daddy.” I obeyed because both of us knew that even though he asked, it wasn’t actually a question.

My eyes widened immediately when I noticed just what he grabbed from the closet and Dylan approached me with an intense grin on his lips. I wanted to desperately ask him why the hell he had that in his trailer or what he thinks he’s about to do to me with it, but I knew that that wouldn’t be the greatest idea.

“It’s not mine.” Dylan defended himself when he obviously saw my shocked facial expression at the metal handcuffs in his hands. “It’s Stiles’, but I don’t see why we can’t have our own little fun with it. What do you think?”

“Well, I know for a fact Stiles and Lydia have a lot of kinky sex with handcuffs.” I smirked, reaching my arms behind the back of the chair for him to lock them there. “So, I say we should also give it a shot, Daddy.”

“That’s my girl.” Dylan smiled, placing the cold metal around my wrists to lock them behind me.

The next thing my boyfriend did was push my legs apart so I was completely opened for him in a way that felt so dirty and exposing but I loved nonetheless. Dylan’s lips instantly wrapped around one of my breasts, already biting down on my nipple, and I whimpered when I couldn’t grip his hair with my fingers. As he teasingly worked on my breast, Dylan brought a hand up to my core and my hips instinctively bucked the second his middle finger rubbed against my sensitive nub. He started slow at first but as soon as he knew I was ready for more, Dylan picked up his middle finger’s pace and, using his other hand, he slid one of his long fingers inside of me.

I couldn’t hold back my moan at the incredible feeling, considering my body had been craving it for the longest time now, and the first finger was immediately followed by a second. I absolutely loved how much Dylan understood my body and exactly what it needed which is why I was already getting close to my release in a matter of minutes. His skillful fingers curled inside of me and pumped with such fervor that I didn’t have any ounce of self control in me anymore. I knew I was about to reach my edge and, much to my dismay, so did Dylan.

“Not yet, princess.” He teased and I whined when he removed his fingers from my soaking wet heat. “You only get to cum when I say so. And I want it to happen around my cock.”

After seeing me completely opened for him and a moaning mess just because of his fingers, Dylan’s erection was already back up and ready for more action. Precum glistened on his tip and even though I did give him head only a few moments ago, I already wanted to do it all over again. What can I say? The man has a delicious dick.

Dylan was pumping himself a little bit as he watched my chest rise and fall from my rapid breathing before grabbing my feet and hitching them up on the chair. He pulled my waist towards the edge of the seat, making me lay down since I still was locked to the back of the chair, and Dylan positioned himself in front of my entrance. Without even giving me a warning, he instantly slammed inside of me and my entire body arched at the invasive act. He waited a few seconds for me to adjust and when I sort of did, Dylan began roughly thrusting into me.

“Fuck, babygirl, you’re always so tight.” Dylan moaned, his face snuggled into my slightly sweaty neck.

The pleasurable feeling of his thick width stretching my tight walls as he pounded in me, quite deeply considering how the position we were in favored his ability to be completely buried inside of me, sparked the orgasm I was so close to reach that Dylan denied up to the surface again. I clenched around him once and he growled against my skin, my entire body vibrating with the sound.

“Don’t cum yet.” He demanded and I whimpered.

Even though I tried to hold it back, I clenched around him once more and this time Dylan immediately brought his face up to glare at me. We were so close that I could feel his breath brushing across my skin and, yet, all I could focus on was the bound knot in my stomach ready to break free any minute now. The thought of going against Dylan’s commands was both terrifying and exciting and, to be honest, I didn’t know which one attracted me more.

“Don’t you dare.” Dylan threatened, bringing one of his hands up to forcefully pull my hair and make me look him straight in the eyes. “I’m serious. Promise Daddy you won’t cum until I allow it.”

“I-I promise, Daddy.” I managed to say through moans. However the second his cock twitched inside of me when I said his favorite nickname, I was long gone and there was no way going back.

My entire body shook, my toes curled against the chair and uncontrollable shouts erupted from my chest as one of the greatest orgasms I’ve ever experienced bolted through my veins. I could feel my core clenching around Dylan’s shaft at the same time that it released all of my pent-up arousal and gushed onto him. I screamed so loudly that I was certain everyone on the Teen Wolf lot heard me and I was also sure that despite not following his orders, Dylan was loving the way I was a mess. Everyone including Sprayberry and Cody knew that the person who just made this young woman scream so much in pleasure was Dylan and that it didn’t even matter how badly they might have wanted her, she was his.

My own release triggered Dylan’s and as I was coming down from my intense high, my boyfriend was reaching his. Dylan’s cock twitched before cumming for the second time today and shooting his liquid inside of me, the incredible feeling of his hot cum running against my walls making me moan. The sound of Dylan’s own moans echoed through the trailer and I watched in awe as his face contorted in pure pleasure. He held onto the edges of the chair tightly, his muscles straining against his arms as he shook.

“Strike three.” Dylan managed to say through his husky and breathless voice once he came down from his high.

The sweet taste of adrenaline rushed though all of my veins and my heartbeat pounded so hard it pulsed inside of my ears the second Dylan said those two simple words. A mixture of concern and lust flooded inside of me and I didn’t quite know which one was stronger.

Dylan slowly slid out of my body, his eyes staring into mine the entire time, and I winced at how sensitive I’ve become. Going back over to the closet, Dylan pulled out a small key and walked over to me again. He hovered over my body, his incredible smell filling my nose, and unlocked the metal cuffs on my hands. They immediately dropped to the floor with a clang and Dylan didn’t even seem to care. Putting the key down on his desk, Dylan stood up straight in front of me.

“Let me ask you a question, princess.” He husked. “Do you think you’re a good girl?”

“Yes, Daddy.” I answered, bringing my hands over to settle on my lap. “I do.”

“Hmm, well, I happen to think you’re very very naughty.” Dylan murmured. “And do you know what happens to naughty girls, baby? They get spanked.”

Before I could even put together what was about to happen, Dylan harshly grabbed me and made me stand. My boyfriend pushed me down onto the desk, my ass sticking out for him, and he stuck his leg between mine to keep them apart. He slowly began to caress one of my cheeks with the palm of his hand and goosebumps covered my entire body.

“How many should I give you, babygirl?” Dylan teased. “Does ten sound good?”

“N-No, that’s too much.” I stuttered.

“Okay, then, ten it is.” He chuckled darkly and I mentally prepared myself for what was about to come. “Count for me, princess.”

Suddenly, Dylan lifted his hand and roughly slammed it back down on my ass cheek. The intense pain immediately making my hips bucker in response. The ache and pleasure shooting through me and landed straight in the bottom of my stomach, sparking the creation of a familiar knot.

“O-One.” I whimpered and, as soon as I finished speaking, Dylan spanked my same cheek again. “T-Two.”

He repeatedly smacked my right cheek five times in a row, my skin aching intensely with every hit. Everytime he would slap me, the knot inside of my stomach would become tighter and tighter. I knew that by the time he finished spanking me all ten times, that knot would break and I would be orgasming for the second time in this trailer. I was already a shaking, moaning and whimpering mess in his hands and, as embarrassing as it was to be so vulnerable to someone, I couldn’t care less.

Dylan rubbed my right cheek for a few seconds to ease the stinging pain on my skin before moving to my left and striking my ass again without any warning. My knees were wobbling and weak and if it wasn’t for his leg holding me up, I would’ve definitely fallen down my now.

“S-Six.” I mewled, my voice only able to come out as a whisper whilst he continued his punishment on me. “Seven, Eight, Nine.”

By the tenth strike, the extremely tight knot had snapped and spread an insane amount of pleasure inside of me. My vision blurred and went white as my orgasm dissolved in my blood and bones. My body jerked against the desk, my skin digging into the wood, and arousal immediately spilled out of me and ran down Dylan’s thigh. It didn’t matter that my ass was burning in excruciating agony, the pleasure was so much more powerful.

Dylan held onto my hips as I finished reaching my edge and came back down to Earth. His fingers creating tender circles on my skin.

“You okay, baby?” He asked me and I managed to bring myself back up, with his assistance of course.

“Yes, Dylan, I am.” I turned around with a smile on my face, wrapping my arms around his neck for stability.

“I wasn’t too harsh, was I?”

“No, you were perfect.” I shook my head happily, leaning in to place a soft kiss on his lips.

“Good.” Dylan smiled, his eyes no longer dark and now back to its gentle color. “It’s just, the way Cody looked at you drove me insane and-”

“I know, baby.” I interrupted him before he could finish, caressing the back of his neck with my fingers. “But, I’m not his, I’m yours.”

Dylan smiled at me with everything he had in him and I swooned at how beautiful he was. However, not just in the way he looked or in the way that he always manages to say things that makes me fall in love with him more and more everyday. But, just in the pure way that he is.

I am going to wake up from this dream.
I am going to wake up from this nightmare.


Who I really am outside this hallucination is something different.
Something that is not a puppet or a label or a mental illness or a disease
That needs to be cured or taken care off.


Who I really am outside this hallucination is something beautiful.
Something that holds the whole universe from within itself. Something
That is perfect and flawless and lovely and blameless.


The real I is the full manifestation of hope and not fear.
The real I is an existence that does not doubt its own self.


The real I is who I am today and not the person who I was
In the past or in the future. The real I doesn’t think about those
Things because it understands that only the present time is promised.


The real I thinks that it doesn’t have to think to love itself because
That’s the natural thing to do. Like how the sun doesn’t think about shining
every morning and like how the moon doesn’t think about glowing every night.


The real I is a radiant and lovely being.

—  Juansen Dizon // The Real I
Who is Suho?

♡ Kim Junmyeon 

♡ Our “guardian angel”

♡ Leader-nim

♡ Is a single-mom with 8 children

♡ Is still suffering from the pain Kris has caused when he left his love

♡ D A D  J O K E S

♡ His jokes have the power to make you cringe until you cry

♡ but we,exols will laugh anyway

♡ Xiumin who is also the oldest laughs at suho’s jokes regardless

♡ Once a wise man said “Your jokes aren’t funny so stop”

♡ That wise man was kyungsoo

♡ Chen also doesn’t find him funny

♡ He didn’t think twice before he roasted Suho on Happy Together

♡ “Stop it’s not funny”

♡ S A V A G E

♡ S for Savage

♡ “You should stop screaming”—>about lay’s monodrama

♡ I ain’t joking this boy can roast anyone

♡ “Here,poison,eat and die”

♡ “I didn’t watch her movie either”

♡ “It’s my broadcast so I’ll do whatever I want”

♡ Bbh:I got twice more handsome than the last time you saw me

   Suho:0x2 is still 0.

♡ “Why were you born?

♡ Iconic line from his drama—>”I’ll sue you later”

♡ Sehun is his little baby

♡ They have a special connection between each other

♡ Our little maknae also learned how to roast from the master

♡ “I have a real older brother tho”

♡ Waited for almost 4 hours to scare kai

♡ Failed

♡ $uh0e

♡ He rich

♡ He’s the type of person who will shove his credit card to your face

♡ And he’ll be like “I’m rich so tell me what you want”

♡ He’s got some*looks around* nicccee abs

I’m pretty sure they’re made of steel

Originally posted by baozitao

♡ He’s actually a soft bunny

♡ Loved by everyone

♡ Slept during the day in Dream Concert and staff covered him with a blanket

♡ Loving towards his members

♡ I bet he makes all those lame jokes just to make them happy

♡ As much as he gives,he also receives

♡ Takes care of all and remembers important dates

♡ Celebrated Sehun’s birthday without a bottom but its ok

♡ Lovely towards anyone

♡ Loves taehyung

♡ Loves bts

♡ Since he’s the leader,he has a really good relationship with any other group member

♡ Talks to girl group members

♡ Russian Roulette

♡ Loves,loves,loves it

♡ Won’t stop dancing to the song with a poker face on

♡ They actually had to stop him so they wouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Red Velvet

Too late

Originally posted by suhomysuho

♡ After that, he went in front of red velvet and started dancing to russian roulette

Words can’t explain the cringe

♡ Looks good

♡ In photo shoots

♡ While sleeping

♡ While breathing

♡ The royalty concept was created for him

♡ He was meant to be the king

♡ I love it when he explains why is lay absent.Is it just me? ok

♡ Bless his voice

♡ It’s already blessed tho

♡ “Curtain”

♡ No more words needed

♡ Appreciates art

♡ Is art

♡ He starts the speech during award ceremonies

♡ Can seem strong and powerful as a leader-he already is’-

♡ But sometimes,he can’t hold back just like any of the members

♡ Looked really strong and talked calmly during the award ceremony but after,the staff found him crying

♡ He loves exols

♡ so much

♡ We also love him

♡ He was the one who cheered up the members and told everything is going to be ok when krishantao left

♡ I think he’s the strongest member’

♡ Loves to travel

♡ Travels a lot

♡ His dance isn’t appreciated enough

♡ His looks aren’t appreciated enough

♡ IS THE BIGGEST MEME ONLINE

Originally posted by death-by-jongin

♡ Can speak 3-4 languages

♡ Even though he isn’t fluent

♡ Kai is a hoe for him

♡ Kai loves to talk to him while they can feel each other’s breath

♡ He is a soft bunny who wants to love everyone and spread love

Originally posted by yixingsosweet

confession time: I slap pastel on everything. even the things that arent supposed to be in pastel

(thank you @novembon for the request and the kind words!!! I’m glad you enjoy what Ive got on my blog. hope this reigen trying to be cool suits your taste.)

this request post predicts the pastel apocalypse. find out how the world will end right here

46 Quotes from David John Tennant ❤️❤️:

1. “I see nothing wrong with having an unhealthy obsession with something.”

2. “If they find what they expect, the physicists will party, if not, the physicists will party anyway, physicists are odd like that.”

3. “The audience is the final cast member.”

4. “I was still just the wee boy frae Paisley.”

5. “When you think about it, many aspects of how we look, the way we act…” [looks in mirror] “Or my insufferable vanity, are determined genetically.”

6. [while nuzzling the fur of Arthur the horse, which he is severely allergic to] “Are you going to be my friend?”

7. “Science is as much the pursuit of beauty as it is the pursuit of truth.”

8. “How long can you keep smiling?”

9. “The Doctor is based on who I would be if I had more confidence and didn’t care so much about what people think.”

10. “It’s time to positively rebellious and rebelliously positive.”

11. “I’m only looking at the twinkle of their soul in the starlight.”

12. “I suppose It’s only boring if you don’t have a washing machine.”

13. “Everything’s scripted! The air molecules are scripted!”

14. “We’re just matter. We can dream of flying across the universe, but what it comes down to is just a hunk of bone… The trouble with a cliché is that it loses its meaning.”

15. “But I wasn’t talking to myself. I was making up stories.”

16. “Everyone everywhere has the right to be happy and free… There are so many of us humans squeezing onto this wee planet and there’s no TARDIS coming to spirit us away. We have to look out for each other.”

17. “If I had to be stuck in a parallel universe with one fandom it would be the Doctor Who fans. I think they’re the cleverest. Quickest wits in the internet.”

18. “Sometimes I’m haunted by it, sometimes I’m enlivened by it, sometimes it weighs me down, and other times it’s like a drug and I can’t wait for the next sniff.”

19. “85.3 percent of actors are down-to-earth and reasonable.”

20. “You have to be careful with Shakespeare, because people tend to know it.”

21. “Some of my earliest memories are of being tucked up in bed while mum or dad read to me.“

22. "I have no real ambitions, just to live and fulfill myself, whatever that means.”

23. [about falling down on set all the time] “I would always get up and keep going, but nobody else would.”

24. “I don’t think anyone that is perceived as a villain sees themself as a villain.”

25. “A perfect idea, I suppose, it fires the imagination in such a particular way. Something to do with the fantastic and the futuristic coming together. The TARDIS is the most extraordinary vehicle you could imagine and it’s wrapped up in a scruffy blue phone box. The Doctor is the most clever, extraordinary being, and yet he is scrappy and anarchic. There is something more identifiable with the geek hero. We have to accept that somethings are sprinkled with fairy dust and we won’t know why.”

26. “If you could isolate the elements that turn something into gold you would be an alchemist, wouldn’t you?”

27. “A long table scattered with scripts, water bottles, and paper name plates stretched the whole length of the room. What felt like hundreds of people milled about expectantly, chatting, checking Blackberries, casting sideways glances as I tried to keep breathing and affect an air of insouciant calm.”

28. “In a suburban house in Paisley, a wee boy was sticky-taping his oft-snapped spectacles back together. He couldn’t remember a time when they hadn’t been augmented with at least one area of peeling sellotape.”

29. “I’ve always seen theatre as my natural mode of being.”

30. “I love you all passionately… And possibly carnally.”

31. “I would get to the point where I was rehearsing what I was going to say next: ‘excuse me, ladies and gentlemen, terribly sorry, but I need to go throw up in the dressing room.’”

32. “I’ve chosen to follow my own spirit.”

33. “Shakespeare’s plots and characters are catnip to actors… It sings to us.”

34. “I’ve been to lots of alien planets. You’d be surprised how many of them look like quarries in Wales.”

35. “There is quite a lot of science in Doctor Who, some accurate science, some of it quite elevated, and some of it that’s completely made up.”

36. “I’m always chasing the script that I need to be worthy of.”

37. “I would wander around, pretending to be all the characters. My parents would tell lots of stories of me wandering around the garden, talking to myself.”

38. “I was the one delivering flowers for people who were in actual relationships with actual human beings.”

39. “He’s cleverer than me, he’s quicker witted than I am, he’s more intelligent than me, he’s a better sword fighter than I am… I like to think I have at least a twinkle of all those qualities.”

40. “It’s difficult to describe your own personality… Happy, mostly, maybe a bit bewildered.”

41. “Suddenly, and quite without warning, there was a rupture in the fabric of space and time.”

42. “I thought that would be a very witty and expedient way to exit the room.”

43. “Other hair products are available.”

44. “I always get worried when adults say children don’t understand the difference between reality and fiction, because they do understand.”

45. “Hopefully I’m not as pathetic as I think I am at four in the morning.”

46. “A dream, while it’s happening, is as real and valid an experience as anything else. Until it stops.”

g-ayj  asked:

What's it like being an animator for your career? *someone currently working towards a degree in animation*

Oh gosh, the infamous “what’s it like” question… where do I even start?

First of all, it’s a lot of work.  Don’t let the whole “art career” thing fool you – it’s easily as much work as, say, a career in law, but the workload is of a much, MUCH different nature.  If you genuinely enjoy animation, it’s a dream, ‘cuz that’s LITERALLY ALL YOU DO all day.  If you’re only halfheartedly into it, though… it’s a nightmare.

I’ve said this to people before, but I’ll reiterate it here: a career in animation is only for you if animation is literally your life.  It’ll drive you nuts if it’s any less than the thing you enjoy the absolute most, because I won’t lie to you – it’s INCREDIBLY tedious, and again, it’s A LOT of work.

Not to mention, you do have to be careful – there are some studios and clients out there who will take advantage of you, especially if you’re fresh in the industry or just out of college.  Always do your research on a studio or client first, see if they have any history with other employees in the industry, and know the value of your work.  Never work for any less.  (There’s a studio right in this area that’s notorious for underpaying its employees, and I’ll be happy to name it to people privately – just not publicly.)

Now, that all aside?  If you really do love animation, this job is a dream.  The pay isn’t exactly the highest, but it’s the work that makes it worthwhile.  At the end of the day, no matter how infuriating the shots you’ve been given, you’ve spent the whole day bringing something to life, and you get paid to do it.

The studio is full of like-minded people, and though interests and personalities vary widely, you’re all here for the same reasons, and you’re all on the same team making one final product, and when you get to see what you’ve made all put together… the screening days are my favorites, man.  Everybody’s so happy to see the episode done, and we’re all laughing our asses off at the jokes we’ve already heard a million times, just trying to get the lipsync just so.  And good gravy, when That One Shot comes on screen and it turned out so perfect, people cheer.  It’s surreal.

It’s wild, and I love it so so much.

i hate the “abuse victim becomes an abuser/villain” trope and if that happens to credence i will personally fist fight JKR,,

i’m tired of abused people (kids, especially) having to see these characters and identify with them only to see that they turn out just as bad or worse than who hurt them,,,,, it’s so discouraging to see (speaking as a survivor) like,, can you imagine dreaming of a better life and wanting to see that played out in a character, but instead every single fucking writer makes them into a bad guy!!!! and the only thing is that they get a “tragic backstory” it pisses me off so much!! there are too many characters like that, even just in harry potter, so i’m just like begging JKR to please not do that again. we’ve seen it enough.

not to mention the endless possibilities you have to show that character overcome what they’ve been through and just?? give them a life that ends happier than it began. to show everyone that people are more than their pasts or that “tragic backstories.” there’s just so much you can do with that, and like it’s so unoriginal and boring to stick with such an outdated, discouraging, and upsetting trope. you can make a truly original, innovative, and moving character if you just stop using that stupid, overused trope!!!! it’s that simple.

what happens to credence matters, whether you care about his character or not, because it speaks so much to people (children) in similar situations watching this movie…. it matters because it shows how people tend to view victims of abuse. and jfc this should go without saying but all abuse victims matter, and we need to really talk about them and stop giving them half-hearted stories, or stories that we see repeated across genres, franchises, mediums of art/expression…. give varied stories, give nuanced stories, give us real people going through things that really happen.

and please don’t let credence be forgotten among those characters.

idk as someone who’s watched too much game grumps in their day, this game is literally a joke. Arin and Daniel and everyone else on that crew see gayness as a joke. They think its funny people ship them together as gay, they think its funny to make gay jokes about fucking each other, they think imagining characters  as gay is funny.

They are not involved w a game called “dream daddy” w gay rep because they care about representing gay people. They’re involved w it bc they think gay people are jokes. 

Don’t think about Warden Alistair using his casual dry humour to cover his grief over the Ultimate Sacrifice of his love.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair going off his Cheese because his love is no longer there to eat it with him.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair mindlessly chatting in his small camp and then realising he’s not talking to her… but thin air.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair reaching out in the tent for his love after having a nightmare, but she’s no longer there to comfort him.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair with the other Wardens then turning to ask for her opinion… and she’s not there to give it.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair leaving the Wardens because it just isn’t right without her.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair keeping unleashing his grief on a blooming rose bush until only one remains… and he just doesn’t have the heart to destroy it.

Don’t think about Warden Alistair placing that single rose on her tomb in Weisshaupt.

Don’t think of Warden Alistair begging the Inquisitor to leave him behind in the Fade… leave him to join her… despite hearing her voice in the back of his mind begging him not to….


Don’t think of King Alistair sitting on his throne searching every face in the room, but he can’t find hers.

Don’t think of King Alistair turning to ask her for her advice, as he did during the blight, but she’s not there to offer him any.

Don’t think about King Alistair reaching out in bed for the woman he loves but she’s not there for him to hold… and the nights get unbearably cold.

Don’t think about King Alistair twirling a single red rose in his fingers when he’s supposed to be signing legal papers…

Don’t think of King Alistair trying to hold himself together when his love, the Hero of Ferelden, is the topic of discussion…

Don’t think of King Alistair trying to remain strong as he looks after his Kingdom… to make her proud.

Don’t think of King Alistair looking up at the door every time it opens… expecting to see her but instead, it’s someone else.

Don’t think of King Alistair receiving and turning down every marriage proposal because these girls are not her…

Don’t think of King Alistair finally bolting from the main hall, locking himself in his study and breaking down… nobody bothers him because he’s held his grief in for too long.


Don’t think of Alistair watching from below Fort Drakon… and feeling her slip from his grasp….

Don’t think of Alistair running and tripping as he races towards Fort Drakon… and when he reaches the top; she doesn’t move when he calls to her.

Don’t think of Alistair braving his love’s funeral and can’t even resist his strength when he kisses her one last time. Not caring who sees,

Don’t think about Alistair not going one day without his dead love constantly on his mind.

Don’t think of Alistair reliving their moments together in his dreams and waking up and realising its all in the past.

Don’t think of Alistair keeping a single memento if his love that signifies their Origin.

Don’t think of Alistair struggling with his pain and grief… and on top of that guilt. knowing he had a way to save his love and didn’t.

Don’t think of Alistair trying to make every living moment worth it, because his love sacrificed herself for this. But it’s worth so little without her… but for her, he tries.


Don’t think of Alistair missing the woman he loves with every breath he takes, but holding onto hope that he will one day be with her again.



I’m going to stop there because one: I ran out of words… and two: if I go any further I’ll make myself cry…

askbutterlord  asked:

:3c rant more on Zen

ask and you shall receive cause only God knows how much i fucking love Hyun Ryu (((trying not to cry while writing this hahahahA))

  • its like, Zen is known as the narcissistic one, right? but like….once you really start getting close to Zen, it seems like he truly displays so much humility in a relationship
  • once he loves you, he’s ready to put himself to the side for you needs
  • the only reason he DOESNT is because MC is a wonderful sweetheart who doesnt let Zen ruing his career for them like, does that make sense?
  • he loves his career but he loves you more. he wants so badly to show the entire world how much he loves you and that you are his
  • and he plays this part of like cool macho actor who never doubts himself and takes the whole world by storm
  • but in his route you find out just how fragile he really is, one ankle injury and all of a sudden he cant seem to stop talking about how pathetic he is
  • he works so fucking hard because he wants people to see him as talent, not a pretty face
  • i mean, as a kid he didnt even like attention
  • and he honestly doesnt want everything to revolve around him. he hates scandal and all that shit and,,
  • in the valentines day dlc he really opened up his heart to MC and told them that their life shouldnt just be about him, it should be about MC too
  • he wants MC to chase their dreams and he wants to be there to see it
  • his heart is truly so full of love and compassion im..,,,
  • he takes care of MC in every single route and in Jaehee’s route he takes care of Jaehee
  • it might seem nosy to some but its just because he cares and he wants to feel like someone important, not just a pretty face
  • he wants everyone to have a voice and the opportunity to be happy, he’s said before that’s why Jumin bothers him so much; he kind of feels like Jumin squishes people who are beneath him and Zen’s heart is just so big and like,,,
  • he’s so incredibly sweet
  • i know a lot of people think Zen is most likely to cheat but i just could never, ever see that
  • he could have anyone he wanted? but he doesnt because he dedicated himself whole heatedly to his work
  • and when he does fall in love, its because there was someone who helped him understand what its like to love someone else and have a healthy relationship with them
  • cause Zen’s familial relationships were pretty toxic..,,
  • also,,he didnt finish high school or go to college but he fucking works his ass off and he is good at what he does

anyway i love Zen and if you dont love him i dont really care,,,i love him enough for both of us

OKAY BUT

What if next week’s episode opened with a dream sequence, in which Fitz was remembering things he shouldn’t even know, in particular the parallels between Jemma’s scream in the last episode and the all-important bottom of the ocean scene. He sees those screams one after the other, and then a rapid-fire montage of memory with scraps of dialogue featuring some of their biggest lines.

“I’m not leaving you, that’s ridiculous! We need a new plan!” / “We’re not discussing it Jemma. You’re taking it, end of story.”

“Why would you make me do this? You’re my best friend in the world!” / “You’re more than that, Jemma. And I couldn’t find the courage to tell you. So please, let me show you.”

“You’ll be careful.”

“There’s nothing to discuss, Jemma.” / “Maybe there is.”

“Quite a strange feeling, isn’t it? Never wanting to be without someone?”

“And you dove through a hole in the universe for me!”

“It’s been ten years.”

“You became the most open, loyal, caring person I’ve ever met.” / “It’s why I fell in love with you! Who you really are; that’s not programming! It’s something way beyond that!”

And he has no context for any of these scenes but he can see them vividly and it has him waking up in a cold sweat and a blind panic. He gets up in the middle of the night, goes to where Radcliffe is being kept and makes a demand.

“Tell me about Jemma Simmons. Tell me everything.”

Imagine Naruto and Sasuke getting married.
They don’t do a big ceremony cause they don’t really want or need something big. Hell if it wasn’t for Sakura’s constant pleads to make it official, they wouldn’t even be husbands. They have a small, traditional one. Naruto cried and Sasuke couldn’t stop smiling.
Sasuke thought it would be best to keep their last names but Naruto insisted he didn’t mind taking the Uchiha last name. He knew how much this meant: its history, its present and Sasuke’s dream to rebuilt it. Sasuke, for the first time during that day, cried.
They decided on Naruto and Sasuke Uchiha-Uzumaki.
Naruto is the hokage and he keeps protesting about Sasuke being hokage too. The village obviously doesn’t accept at first but Naruto tries his best to smoother the situation. Even talking to Sasuke about revealing the truth about Itachi, about Danzo, about everything. He convinces the majority and Sasuke is received quite well after a while. There are others who don’t and are against it but Naruto doesn’t really care, neither does Sasuke. As long as they protect what’s precious to them and for those whom they care about that would be enough.
They play their roles incredibly good. No one has seen a more stable government since ever. Naruto, being sociable, having incredible social skills and natural charm, makes deals with no difficulty. Everyone loves him. It’s just a given.
On the other hand, Sasuke holds the power, the strength, the intelligence and justice.
Their synchronization cannot only be seen in political affairs. Seeing them fighting, now that’s a true masterpiece. Only a few have witnessed the Hokage couple in action, wether as a victim or the aggressor, simply because their power is so great not all remember what actually happened.
These idiots flirt. During battle.
Naruto would still be impressed by every little thing Sasuke does. Sasuke would finish someone off and Naruto would be amazed. Sasuke would immediately know and make fun of Naruto. They would bicker but it would turn into Naruto saying “Yeah fine that was actually amazing. I wish I could marry you again”
“Shut up, you idiot”
Both Naruto and Sasuke are extremely possessive and protective over each other during a battle against someone else.
If Naruto is hurt, he would say “you shouldn’t have done that” and as the man stares at him in confusion, a bolt of lightning would go through him with maximum potency. The man would drop, painfully burnt and an annoyed Sasuke would appear behind. “My husband is a bit possessive, you know?”
If Sasuke gets hurt, Naruto would lose it. He is short tempered and when Sasuke is in danger, he goes on full rampage. He will first make sure Sasuke is alright before turning to the one that caused it. No one knows what goes beyond that. No one comes back to tell.
They both travel as much as they can. Naruto trusts Sakura and Shikamaru to take care of the village when he’s out with Sasuke. They gather as much information as they can, they learn, they experience, they try, they meet people and many other things that would help them to make Konoha better.

Gentle Touch

Bucky x OFC (Jules) /  Bucky’s POV

Summary: Where Bucky is so used to harsh, rough touches he never expected one to be so kind and loving. Realizing he’s been craving this kind of touch for years.

Word Count: 1,325

Warnings: Mention of abuse, touch deprived, language

A/N: I’m back!!!! I took a longer break than I originally planned, but school took up a bunch of my time and me taking on more projects I could handle. I also hit several walls the past few months, that left me lost, broken and down in the dumps. It’s been a struggle to get back on my feet and get my head in the game, but I’m here, I’m back and I’m doing so much better than I previously was! 

I’m gonna try to get back in the groove of posting fics regularly, so I hope you’re ready! Help Me and Motionless Series are STILL going! And tags are ALWAYS open! :D Thank you for being patient with me these past few months, hopefully, I won’t go that long without posting something again. So enjoy this one and let me know what you think!! :) 



Touch, it’s amazing how much can be said and shown through the power of touch. But it can be hard to forget how much pain, anger, and torment can be expressed by the power of touch. No touch for me was ever gentle. There was no love, compassion or care in the physical touches I experienced throughout my lifetime. Not once has anyone touched me unless pain followed, which it always did.

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Out of Curiosity

I’ve been seeing posts circulating about white people not having the right to practice Vodou or Santeria and I have a question for those who practice either.

It would definitely be wrong for a person not of African descent to barge into one of those faiths and demand things from the Lwa or Orisha, though I doubt that the Lwa or Orisha would allow them to do things like that unchecked (I’ve heard the stories).
But I wonder what everyone’s opinion is on Lwa and Orisha who appear to people who are not of African descent, white or not? Of course, I’m not talking about false claims or attention seeking. I mean people who have genuinely been visited by one of them.
I once knew a white person (not a witch, but a magician of some sort) who was visited by Ezili Danto in a dream, and before then knew little about Vodou. They described her rather well, with a dark blue dress, red kerchief on her head, bloodshot eyes from tears, stern but caring appearance, dark skin, and a cut on the cheek. The way they spoke of how she looked and acted lead me to believe that this was legitimate.

As a traditional witch who has read and heard much about Vodou and Santeria from its practitioners, but does not practice either, I cannot give a definite answer on this, and am simply curious. 

I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about Diana Gabaldon’s comment to that poor girl who came to her for advice. Usually, I roll my eyes at Diana and I move on. But I can’t do that today.

Maybe it’s because I’m thinking about going back to school. And it’s the scariest thing on Earth for me to think about. Maybe it’s because I remember being 18 years old and asking those questions of people I admired and my dreams being squashed until all that was left was a small, scared teenage girl who didn’t know what she wanted out of life.

I am a creative person who thrives on dreams and chaos. I hate structure, unless it is structure that helps to regulate the constant whirlwind in my brain. I can’t make decisions without the input of 700 people and I second guess every step I make.  I want to believe I’m a talented writer, people have told me I am, but I can never be sure. I am my own worst critic. Be that the depression or my temperament, I’m not sure.

When I was seventeen and looking forward to starting college, I had two requirements. I wanted to be a creative writing major and I wanted to attend a small liberal arts college. I started my college visits, was offered scholarships to several, and was really looking forward to being in a creative environment. I was stuck between two colleges, North Central in Naperville, Illinois, and Reed College in Portland, Oregon. I had gotten a $7k a year scholarship at Reed and a $14k a year scholarship at North Central (for their speech program)…they barely made dents in the tuition, but I knew what I wanted.

Then one day, while I was struggling with my decision between the two, I asked my mom for advice. Immediately, she told me she had been thinking about it and she didn’t want me to go into debt for school. She told me to apply to our local state university for two years and then I could transfer to a liberal arts college. We fought for days over it, but I eventually gave in.

I never made it to the liberal arts college.

When the time came to start school, I brought all of my paperwork home and my mom, step-dad, aunts, uncles…everyone…immediately started telling me how much of a mistake it would be to be a creative writing major. “You won’t make any money!” “You don’t want to go into debt for a useless degree!” My mom (and later, three teachers) suggested political science. “You can go to law school!” “You can work in politics! You’ll be much happier with that degree.”

I wasn’t.

I lasted a year and a half in college, following everyone else’s dreams for me. I took sixteen credit hours, worked two jobs, and started on a downward spiral that ended with me crying in a professor’s office, telling him I couldn’t do this, I couldn’t continue on. I was drunk, my hips were bleeding from having cut myself, and I hadn’t eaten in two days. By then, I had changed my degree to English ( “You can be a teacher!”) and there wasn’t a second of college I liked. I was miserable in a state school of thousands of students, being taught by professors who didn’t know me, and studying something I didn’t want to.

I dropped out the next day. It was meant to be a short term solution to a big problem. I got treatment for depression and anorexia, and the plan was for me to go back. But the experience was so scarring that every time I’ve tried to go back, I suffer giant panic attacks.

Every day, I wish I hadn’t listened to my mom. I wish I had listened to my gut. Even if it had led to me being in debt, even if it had led to me asking someone if they want fries with that…I wish I had followed my passion and my dreams. I work a job I hate right now, I’m in debt, I work an 8-5 job with benefits…and I’m deeply unhappy.

Sometimes, most of the time, following the money isn’t the answer. Following your heart often is. And for Diana to try to tear that away from a young woman who is in a difficult period of her life, it shows how little this woman has learned. Writers, in my experience, are often extremely empathetic and caring. They are romantic souls who see people in varying shades of gray, instead of black and white. To yearn for money is not to see the world for its beauty, love, tragedy, and ugliness. 

My advice to the young woman who contacted Diana? Follow your dreams. Follow your heart. Learn to love yourself and the world and college. You may struggle when you’re out, you may take jobs that you would NEVER dream of taking, but none of that will make you a failure.

You’re a failure when you’ve given up. Not when you keep on fighting for what you love. Not when you take a job that others look down upon to follow your passions.