#I need to write a fic or something

[magnusbae]

To illustrate this post by @mayahawkse I would like to visualize to you the difference:

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

See how in 2023 almost all of the reblogs come from the OP, from their few hours/days in the tag search. Meanwhile in 2014 the % of reblogs from OP is insignificant, because most of the reblogs come from the reblogs within the fandom, within the micro-communities formed there. You didn't need to rely on tags, or search, or being featured. Because the community took care of you, made sure to pass the work between themselves and onto their blog and exposed their followers to it. It kept works alive for years.

It's not JUST the reblog/like ratio that causing this issue, it's the type of interaction people have. They're content with scrolling and liking the search engine, instead of actually having a reblogging relationship with other blogs in their community.

Anyways, if you want to see more content you like, the only true way to make it happen is to reblog it. Likes do not forward content in no way but making OP feel nice. Reblogs on the other hand make content eternal. They make it relevant, they make it exist outside of a fickle tumblr search that hardly works on the best of days.

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[lauravian]

“Don’t let it get to that big head of yours, Merlin.

I just… thought you were dead.”

[iamrizaka]

As much as I love the idea of Will wearing Lee's flannel after his death, I much more prefer a scenario where he was constantly trying to steal it when Lee wasn't looking. Lee got fed up with this gremlin child (affectionate) trying to steal his clothes (he knows that he should toss it out, burn it, but he can't bring himself to do it; it holds way too many memories) so he gets a green flannel and embroiders it with little sun symbols.

He hides it in one of the secret rooms in the infirmary, because he can't have any of his siblings – or worse, a spy – stumble across it in his cabin. He leaves it here and makes a promise to give it to Will on his birthday.

Over a year later, Will tries to find a place to hide – no one should see their head counselor and head medic cry. He finds this room and remembers the talks about it and how it was one of Lee and Luke's secret hideouts. He wants to leave; he doesn't need another memory of what it was and what it could've been. But his gut tells him to enter and he finds a neatly packaged box.

There's a green flannel and a note:

For my little brother, Will

— Lee

P.S. stop stealing my clothes!

He never takes it off.

[embbarnes]

Beefy Bucky & Creampies uhhh 18+ MDNI

It has to specifically be Beefy Bucky um because I said so.

Bucky would eat your well fucked pussy after he came inside you I know it.

Dude loves a good creampie.

His fat cock drilling into you and so sweetly kissing your cervix with each intense thrust, hot precum weeping out of his cockhead and soothing the swollen flesh and coating your inner walls until he fucking just cums and fills you up with his seed.

There's literally so much of it, it oozes out of you as he slowly drags himself back, watching the white cream just...coat your cunt. His mouth waters, seeing your pretty petals so slick and glistening with your own cum and his. He just can't help himself.

Bucky grabbing your legs and holding them open while his tongue continues to lap and twirl between your folds as he listens to that pretty little symphony coming out of your lips.

And his mouth wraps around that pretty pearl of yours and he just nurses on it while you feel the hot, tingling erupt through your body. You feel it in your toes, they curl as you fist the sheets and beg him for more.

Tug his hair and feel his arms, look at those pretty eyes as he glances up at you. Oh my god. Watch him rut himself into the fucking bed because he's ready for round two. Three. Four.

He laps and licks, his fucking face is buried in you. The scruff gently tickling your inner thighs and scratching your folds. He doesn't want to let up, drinking your essence and inhaling your scent, memorizing it. He's so drunk off your pussy, he doesn't want to let you go, ever.

Your taste and his own together was like a drug.

The groans this man makes is enough to make you cum again, or at least send those shivers through your delicate bud, begging to be sucked again.

Bucky doesn't give a shit if he tastes himself on you, he sucks himself out of you just to push it all back in and listen to you mewl at the sensation, or he pulls back and slams his lips against yours, sharing himself on your tongue.

Um yeah. I guess this is kinda cum play too?

Just a thought lol byeee <3

[shibaraki]

please write your reader insert however you want to. unabashedly!! write fat reader. black reader. asexual. masculine. tall. trans. disabled. you’re allowed to see yourself reflected in these spaces!!! sometimes your fic won’t be for everyone—it will be for all the people who look, think, love and experience life the way you do and that’s ok! it’s wonderful, actually.

it is not your job to make sure the shoe comfortably fits every single person out there. your only job is to tag it, and if anyone tells you otherwise I’ll personally come out swinging lol

[wikiangela]

"I'm going to ask Tommy to marry me." Buck says out of the blue one random evening, sitting in Eddie's living room, spread out in the armchair, sipping a beer, eyes on the TV, where Eddie and Christopher are playing a video game. His tone is even and firm, not even a hint of hesitation, it's not a huge revelation, or even a decision he's made just now. He's been thinking about it for weeks, maybe months. He doesn't know why he says it now, it just slips out - maybe he just needed to talk to his best friend about it.

"Really?" he hears a hint of surprise in Eddie's voice, but when he looks at his best friend, he's still focused on trying to beat his son at the game. He's smiling, sparing a glance at Buck. "That's great, Buck."

"Yeah?" he breathes out, feeling even more settled now. He wasn't nervous, exactly, but still felt kind of like he did when he came out to Eddie. Like he just wanted his best friend to approve, to support him - and he had no doubt he would.

"Of course," Eddie answers easily. "You guys are perfect together, and you love each other, and if you're sure you want to spend the rest of your life with Tommy, yeah, go for it. I'm happy for you," he adds, finally looking at Buck, a soft, genuine smile on his face. Christopher uses this moment to win the game, and Eddie groans at his triumphant yell. "Aw, not fair, Buck distracted me." Both Buck and Chis laugh, while Eddie pouts for a moment, before a smile breaks through anyway.

"Well, I won." Chris shrugs with a grin. "And I think it'd be so cool if you and Tommy get married," he adds, moving his attention to Buck.

"Yeah?" Buck repeats, his smile even wider now. Having two of his favorite people not only really love his partner - Buck's pretty sure Tommy's the first one to spend so much time with all of them together, and it feeling so right - but also approve of Buck wanting to tie him into their family forever.

"Duh, Tommy's the coolest." Chris rolls his eyes. "Better lock him down while you can," he jokes, and Buck gasps in surprise. He's such a teenager.

"Wow, rude. He's not going anywhere." he shakes his head with a laugh. That much he's sure of, for the first time in his life he's not scared of getting left, of his partner getting bored or fed up. He knows Tommy's gonna be right at his side no matter what.

"Not if you put a ring on it." Eddie joins his son's teasing. Laughing, Buck reaches over to the table to pick up a chip from a bowl and throw it at Eddie, who dodges it as it lands somewhere on the couch. "Hey!"

"But seriously, you don't think it's too soon?" Buck asks after a moment, a little bit of nerves seeping into his tone. He's more than sure about wanting to marry Tommy. He's just a little scared that he's gonna freak him out. They have talked about this, about their future, what they want out of this relationship, out of life, but they never really discussed any timelines, and Buck might be a little in his head about this. Hence why he needed to talk to someone about it, probably.

"Buck, you've been together for over a year. Some people get married after less." Eddie raises an eyebrow. "When you know, you know." He shrugs, and Buck releases a breath. Because he does know. He has known for a long time now.

"So you think he'll say yes?" Buck asks, but he knows the answer before Eddie has a chance to roll his eyes with fond exasperation. Tommy loves him. He loves Tommy so much his heart wants to burst out of his chest and live in Tommy's. Tommy is his forever, he's sure of it, and he knows that when he asks, and it's going to be very soon, he'll get a positive answer.

"He'll say yes." Eddie says with a small shake of his head and a wide smile. "Now, two important questions from me: who's gonna be your best man, and do you need help planning and picking out a ring?"

[elizzsush]

The Mask | Jason Todd X Reader

Red Hood X Villain Reader

— in which you, a shy nerdy vigilante/Wayne family obsessed barista- is actually a villain that torments the Red Hood at night.

AU: Soulmate (bc I can)

Rating: Sfw

Note: Y/N is based off of Furina from Genshin bc I thought this would be fun and I saw a prompt somewhere, I think? It’s just my interpretation of it as to not step on anyone's toes!

Also, this isn't really a imagine. It's more of an Idea I was thinking of and needed to get out of my head! So that's why it's kind of not finished? Most of my stuff is WIPs anyway so this isn't really new.

_________________________________

You were a popular villain.

People loved you. Maybe not the theft and distraction you caused but hey- we all have flaws? “I will teach this city the true meaning of Justice!” You’d boldly claim standing on the stage that was Gotham city’s tallest building- scarily close to the edge. “Join me- and together we’ll cleanse this city of its evil and corrupt ways!” You’d state so boldly.

You loved for the attention, the lights- cameras and reporters. That’s why the red hood could only shake his head. Another psychopath spewing their ideology like it should be praised- like it was the absolute truth.

Spoiler alert, it wasn’t.

The world wasn’t black and white enough for an ideology to trump all the others and ‘cleanse this city’. Fuck, not this city- not even close. Gotham was just in too deep. Too much crime, too much of a drug problem or a poverty problem- too much of everything. The joker was a prime example of that. The evil of this city boiled up into one twisted person… Anyway, you were an attention seeker, classic villain profile. Does it for attention- maybe mommy or daddy didn’t give you enough love? It didn’t matter. What happened was you were breaking the law and Jason was still on Bruce’s keep an eye on list. So, he’d keep his hands off the bigger more horrible criminals.

Still sometimes, only sometimes, he'd find himself listening a little too closely to your ideals- Like you believed in the death penalty for Gotham hardest to kill roach: The joker.

So, while Red Hood was chasing you... Well, it'd started off small, you’d steal from the rich of Gotham- sometimes even Bruce Wayne himself. -Those days Jason found himself chasing after you slower, not that he’d admit that. It was a classic Robin Hood situation and Jason… didn’t know how to feel about it. On one hand you were breaking the law, in the other, power to the people. Eat the rich.

Jason knew how it felt to grow up struggling so too see you helping people? It was almost nice.

What annoyed him though was your loud, for the people persona. “I will judge all of Gotham! Batman himself can’t escape my judgment!” Okay, slow down… you were fast and agile, but Batman would be able to catch you. And if Jason really put his back into it, he could too. Still, that never stopped you from making bold claims. It garnered attention, it was bold and daring and just what the people wanted. Your ideal matched up with what so many people were fed up with the batman for.

Eventually your behavior began to escalate. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep the Bats eyes from you. “This is a cult...” He muttered while he hides away on the roof of an abandoned building you holed your followers up in for a speech.

“My loyal follower!” You’d greet them with a smile and a bow. You’d put in stage performances. Sometimes with Jason, except he never knew, and the performance was just you and him fighting on the stage. Most days, some days it seemed it was just you acting and being alive on that large stage. Others you were preaching your words to the cult your loyal followers. You were building an empire and catching the attention of other criminals.

An empire that while he agreed with, went against the bats no kill rule. The longer you stood on that stage the less safe from the bat you were.

And no matter how much he wanted to agree with you, a small part of him still wanted... something from batman. You would be an issue.

“How much longer do I have to do this…?”

Red hood was no detective, but he was raised by the greatest one. So, while he was lacking in that department compared to the rest of his family (Even if it was just by a smidge.) He still noticed how after a speech or a fight- your smile, no, your persona dropped.

It was a persona you probably garnered for attention.

but still...

So how…

…That just didn’t make sense.

“Can I have your autograph…? Please?” A civilian would ask shyly, hiding behind a Batman themed phone case with a Robin themed charm hanging from that same phone.

The worst part of it all? You didn’t ask for the Red Hoods autograph. You asked for Jason Todd’s autograph, you were a fan of the Wayne’s. Gotham's golden family. No actually, it was the way you jumped up and down eagerly when you thought he was far enough way and did a dumb victory dance.

He sighed and leaned against the alleys stone wall as he watched you leave. A sense of worry invaded his mind as he watched you in your nerdy and totally lame Superman shirt walking away. All while staring at your phone.

He was surprised you recognized him. He was never in the public spotlight- maybe here and there when he was younger. Not now, not anymore. His death and how vague it was left question. Ones people didn’t ask when he wasn’t there, dangling in front of them like bait to a fish, they’d ask why and how and while they had a cover up: One the bat, the world's greatest detective made up. It still was messy. You must be a real fan.

He wasn’t even sure if that was really you…

It had to be though, there was no mistaking it. So, with your civilian name in his head, he walked back home.

“…so… lonely…” `

[coyote-nebula]

To everyone who has lush fields ripe with story ideas but is struggling to go out and actually harvest them with your writer’s scythe: that’s alright. There’s a reason.

I see writers despairing or making self-deprecating jokes about how many wips they have, as if the ability to come up with the idea is equal to the ability to finish it out into an end product.

It isn’t.

A lot of our ideas come about, not because we were determined to be productive writers, but because daydreaming is an internal escape from life’s demands.

Writing is a demand, too.

Resting and relaxing are basic needs, unlike the high level, abstract satisfaction of being creatively productive. That’s why you might daydream (which is a mild and normal form of dissociation) ideas that you feel good about, and then struggle to research, write the words, fill plotholes, check grammar, revise— all the critical thinking and executive function things involved in creation. Your basic needs must be satisfied before your higher needs can be met effectively.

So, if you’re daydreaming about your stories extensively to mitigate stress, it’s expecting a lot of your stressed self to return from fantasy land, sit down in the cold hard real world and do the hard work to write masterpieces of literature. Those operations are at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Writing is hard. Making yourself feel guilty is only going to make it harder. You don’t have to atone for entertaining or distracting your mind by making that available to other people. Daydreaming is a valid end in itself.

Don’t feel bad about having ideas but not being able to write them. Scribble some notes if you can, if you want, but above all enjoy the escapism and take care of yourself first. The words will come after.

[the-butch3r]

fishwife

[jacqcrisis]

I can't stop thinking about the rings on Hermes' fingers. I can't. Whats the story behind those? Did he start wearing them because Charon gave them to him as a job well done? The weirdest gift imaginable to your professional associate?

Did Hermes steal them to be a cheeky bastard and got them fitted and put them on for the jokes? Did he start wearing them apropos of nothing? Just happen to start accessorizing like his professional associate? Is it part of a shared uniform? Can we see the employee handbook?

Did Charon go out and get rings commissioned to look exactly like his for not one, but two of his partner in crimes' fingers, slide each lovingly onto Hermes' corresponding digits, and then gently hold his now bejeweled hands in his own to see how they match, knowing Hermes will now carry something of Charon with him when he leaves him for his dangerous work?

I'm just. Asking. Questions. But I swear to God, if we get Charon's portrait and he has a feather or an orange ribbon somewhere on his person, I will be inconsolable for days.

[talktonytome]

They had decided to walk to the bar that night. It was nice and breezy out and Buck loved walking hand in hand with Tommy. However, he hadn’t accounted for a jacket, didn’t think it’d get that much cooler throughout the night.

On the walk back, he tries not to, but the brisk air makes him shiver and of course, Tommy immediately notices. He’s already removing his jacket before Buck can open his mouth to protest. They stop in the middle of the sidewalk and he gently throws it over Buck’s shoulders and gets each arm through the sleeves.

He moves to stand in front of Buck and deftly buttons it up. Then, he tugs him in by the collar and whispers, “All better?” He kisses him on the forehead and warmth unfurls from Buck’s core.

“Mhm, much, thank you baby.”

They stand like that for a few minutes, Tommy’s arms wrapped around him, they’re swaying gently in place. The jacket is soft and warm, and it looks grey in the moonlight, but it had looked olive under the sunset. The sleeves are a little long on him and the material feels almost silky as it brushes his fingers. Best of all, it smells like Tommy- like the fading scent of his everyday cologne combined with the one he wore today and traces of Buck’s own scent. He’s enveloped in the essence of them.

After a minute, they start walking again, Tommy’s warm hand grasped securely in his. The bar’s not far from his loft and it feels like they get there in no time. When they walk through the door, Buck tries to shrug the jacket off to give it back before he forgets in the morning, but Tommy stops him with a touch to his shoulder.

“Keep it,” he says, with a soft, crinkly smile. “It looks better on you anyway.”

[teenagenutant]

a fic that has made me laugh and has very, very much made me cry just updated... so i drew about it! power up by @pickledcarrotsandradish!! wahoo!!!

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Thank you for all the Pigsy art you have ever drawn I love Pigsy and he's one of the reasons I stay in the fandom but I don't see that much art of him where he's not just there as a background character. There is some but he just isn't as popular as some of the other characters (Same with Sandy, and also Tang even I think-) Also the way you draw him makes me grin 👍

every time someone enjoys pigsy i draw 52599 pieces of art

[obiwanobi]

hc that at the beginning of the war, clones became used to Anakin's informality and it became common to have silly conversations after a long day with him, like "would you fight a hungry rancor once or ten angry loth-cats every day for a month" and it's always fun because Skywalker has crazy explanations for his choice, until the day he says "you're all wrong, let me ask Obi-Wan, he will agree with me"

And all the clones panic because General Kenobi is so serious and stern and important, they can't just ask him some stupid question!

But Skywalker has already dragged him over and asked him before the troopers could stop him, and of course Kenobi is frowning now, they will be all scolded for this, probably forced to clean the freshers this week for wasting his time like that, and—

"That is absurd, Anakin. I can't answer before knowing if it's possible to reason with the loth-cats."

The clones blink in unison.

"What do you mean, reason with them? They're loth-cats Obi-Wan! They're animals!"

"Yes, but if they're angry for a month, then there must be a reason. Thus—"

"No, no, don't thus me, there is no negotiation to help you there, it wasn't part of the question—"

"Then the question was not asked correctly! For example, what about the rancor's size? What about its weight? What if it's blind? I'm sure the troopers will agree that we need more information before expressing our opinion."

The noise of frustration General Skywalker makes is only the prelude to a 25-minute-long argument about providing details and sources, two deep dives into zoological reports on rancors' diet and at least three side debates about preferring dogs to loth-cats which turned into a slideshow of the cutest loth-cats on the holonet.

Needless to say, the clones are delighted and never forget to ask General Kenobi for his opinion on pretty much anything after that.

[frownyalfred]

you know what one of my favorite tropes is? forced identity reveal. and not just scenes where the villain will throw some poor civilian off a building if the Justice League doesn't stand up. I mean the kind where they're forced, through magic or powers or some sort of force, to reveal themselves.

Kryptonians are immediately identified in the crowd with kryptonite. Every Lantern hisses as their rings start to flare at the same time, glowing wildly on their hands. Glamours are forcibly dropped. Like that.

[halestrom]

Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw has always known how to fight. He can take a hit and keep on coming. But when he's slowly drawn into the dark side of fighting after a successful, yet expensive, cancer treatment saved his Mother's life, he started to realize he might not always be able to stand back up. Not when his life is dependent on the whims of his Boss, a man he can't help but he drawn to even knowing what he's capable of. Jake Seresin was born into this world, and his rise to King was paved with the blood of anyone who dared to stumble in his path. Charming, outgoing and a smile that's real enough people forget the blood on his hands, he's even more dangerous than people realize. He'll stop at nothing to stay at the top, and he'll sacrifice whatever pawn he needs to in order to do it. The first time he saw Rooster fight he knew he had his next champion. At least until his champion is worth more to him dead than alive according to the books. But the problem is, as the more he gets to know Rooster, the more he becomes Bradley and more he begins to wonder if he'll be capable of doing what needs to be done. And the closer he gets to Rooster, the more people start to realize Jake Seresin might have a weak spot. And Jake just can't have that.