#This is why I'm always just looking on TUMBLR.

[creatingblackcharacters]

hi there; first, thank you for making this blog and all the lessons you do, i really appreciate them as a Black person because it highlights a lot of struggles i face with fandoms in general, and why i dont interact more in certain spaces. it makes me feel seen

with regards to your questions, i'd also like answers to them from nonblack fans, especially nonblack anime fans. i don't even mean consuming anime with overtly racist caricatures of black characters (because numerous anime fans pirate their anime and never send a cent to the creators anyway), i mean how can they make fanworks of it?

how can they look at something that they are told is wildly offensive, but then defend with "well, this is how it looks in canon"? where is the line drawn between what's okay and what isn't? as long as it's slow and gradual, is there no line at all?

these are probably just rehashings of your own followup questions, so please excuse that, but i do have an anecdote

i joined a casual anime server the other day and a lot of folks were lamenting one Black character's racist design and how often those on social media will replicate it without thinking/caring. The thing that struck me is that, I've checked this character's tumblr tag regularly for a long time. There are always people who will post art/fanworks of this character with his racist design. Yet hardly ever, if ever, (outside of Black fans) have I seen any of these folks- the ones in the discord server- try to talk to artists/writers/fan creators/etc via asks/replies/etc. There's a notable amount of people in that server and a notable amount that agreed the design was outright racist and that they'll never make fanworks like that, and yet still silence

i'm not entirely sure what would be the line, or the "okay, that's enough" moment to spur any of these folks into action. i'm not sure if there is one. the only reason i don't make my own "hey what is wrong with all of you" post and blow up is because I've made a wonderful little friend group in this fandom who get it, and I don't want them to get caught up in whatever happens if I were to make a post like that

And this is just for getting people to stop using the canon design of the character, i.e., to stop drawing him as a racist caricature. This isn't touching on the people who 1) lighten his skintone [he's been horribly whitewashed over time, which has been reflected in some fanarts and fan merch], or 2) give him a looser hair/straight hair texture, rather than his type 4 hair (there's also #3, which is fanfiction with straight up slurs, and horribly racist writing in it that my friend heavily warned me not to read, but that was more of a one-off case and I've had the creator blocked a long time now).

my point being, we (Black fans) can't even get folks to stop with the caricatures, which we have to start with, and then there's even more of an annoying uphill battle with the other stuff. I'm just so tired of all of this; it makes me want delete my own works and turn away from fandom all together because i can't stand it.

trying for polite and assuming ignorance hardly ever works, speaking bluntly doesnt work at all, making public posts hardly goes anywhere (partly because of how rarely people reblog things anymore, partly because it makes people 'uncomfortable' to share this information with others). Black fans so obviously need help to combat this, and yet it's like sitting at a tea party and hearing all these pretty words in this one setting, yet nobody does anything different/better when the party's over/outside this setting.

sorry for dooming a bit, but like, genuinely i would like to know where the line is for nonblack folks? what is the point/are the points where you would speak up against antiblack racism? have you ever considered speaking up? if there's ever a moment you recognized antiblack racism and didn't say anything, why didn't you? did you consider how your lack of speaking up might affect your fellow Black fans? or how Black fans may be interpret this as silent agreement with the racists/with the racist 'norm'?

..those could maybe be alternative ways of asking your last followup question?

(if i've made any blunders or overstepped here, please let me know!)

No, I'm glad you spoke up! I too would like to see answers!

[deepestdelulu]

Girls, use this little part of Tumblr to talk about him/her :) you can use comment section as well as reposting this.

I'll start <3

Sooo, this guy came to my chemistry classes last year, and one day he just talked to me, the thing is that he let me his notes (the class before that one I couldn't go) that really surprised since boys of my age aren't so nice I think (?).

Then minutes later he asked me a question, what really made me overthink was that he had his friends right behind him "why would he talk to me when he has people he knows just half step behind? That was weird"

And now, this year I do not see him that much but sometimes we see each other in the hallways, and he always (yes, I mean always) looks where I'm sitting :) Don't judge me, as a thought daughter and delulu person this makes me think A LOT.

But now seriously isn't it strange that he looks where I am and we always make eye contact? 😭

I wish I were brave enough to talk to him and just ask his Instagram, but I'm not, so I guess he will be just another crush I didn't talk to <\3

[kind-of-a-writer]

For Sure (18+)

gator tillman x fem!reader a/n: my first time posting on tumblr so if there's ANYTHING i'm doing wrong please lmk!! i'm also on ao3 (kindofawriter)! oh also, inspired by 'for sure' by ethel cain (had it on repeat while writing this) 

gator doesn't do feelings. or does he? you couldn't know for sure.

He didn’t like talking about feelings. You’d known this for as long as you’d known Gator Tillman. There are things, however, you noticed. How there was a golden hue in his eyes when the sun fell on his face, how his face twisted when he got annoyed. How he looked at you when you were the one annoying him, how you knew there were things he let you get away with.

How he filled you up, to the brim, his fingers digging into your hips, making your eyes roll back and an inexplicable sound leave your mouth, in a way no one had ever done before. Not that you’d had much experience. But you still knew - he was the best you’d ever have. So maybe that’s why you let him do whatever he wanted to you. You let him fuck you rough and deep on nights he was frustrated until all you could manage to cry was his name. The rare times when he was tender, his eyes glistening and he had bruises on his body he wouldn’t let you talk about or touch. When he whined softly as he came. But he didn’t let you bask in the warmth of his tenderness for long. He’d be up and gone before you could even say goodbye.

You saw him around town; he was hard to miss. Hard to avoid, in fact. He strutted around in his cargo pants and deputy vest, barely sparing you a glance if he saw you at the bar or in the store. The musk of his cologne intertwined with the faint scent of fruit as he walked by you in church. And you still looked every time. Not for long. Just a moment for yourself, to admire him. Because as much as you’d like to hate him, he was fucking beautiful. No matter how much he pissed you off, how much of a dick he could be. A small part of your heart belonged to him, even if he didn’t care. But a part of you always hoped, maybe he did. Deep down. You wouldn’t ever know for sure.

The first time he fucked you, you couldn’t explain why it even happened. You had bumped into him outside the local bar, both drunk and pissed about your own shit, and ended up arguing. Then somehow, you were on your knees on the dirty bathroom floor, sucking and drooling over his cock and he came in your mouth and made you swallow it up like a whore.

The next day you prayed to God and promised it wouldn’t happen again. Then you bumped into him after a church service, and he offered to drive you home. You should’ve known to say no, but a part of you had definitely known he’d take you to a secluded place and fuck you in the backseat of his cruiser.

You had told yourself that was last time; prayed to God even harder that night. Promised it wouldn’t happen again, begged the Lord for forgiveness and prayed that Gator would stay away from you. But that never seemed to stop him, nor you.

So naturally, when you heard the creak of your window opening and Gator climbed through, you weren’t surprised, even though he usually texted beforehand. You felt your body shiver with excitement. He lingered by the window for a moment, dropping his vest on the windowsill. He must’ve just finished his night patrol earlier than expected. His footsteps heavy against the wooden floorboard. The sound of him catching his breath as you reached over to turn your lamp on.

You hadn’t been expecting him tonight, you wanted to say, but that was a lie. You’d lie awake, wondering if he’d come, until eventually you fell asleep. Often waking with an empty ache if he hadn’t come over, especially if he said he would. But he didn’t owe you an explanation, you knew that.

A new, unfamiliar scent hit your nose that made you glance over. He was hitting his vape as he took off his boots. You finally glanced at him, watching him take his hat off, the dim yellow light of the lamp flickering across his features.

“Strawberry?” You asked, sitting up slowly, wrinkling your nose. It was late, but not abnormal to have Gator in here at this time. Your parents were sound asleep downstairs, they wouldn’t hear. Gator always made sure you were quiet anyway.

“Yeah, something wrong with it?” He asked, a slight edge to his voice as he took a step closer, his footsteps now softer.

“Just not very manly, is it?” You shrugged playfully, glancing up at him.

“You callin’ me a sissy?” He replied. You stifled a laugh as he pulled the covers off you, tossing his vape on the bedside table, the biting cold of the night air suddenly hitting you. He slid you down so you were lying on your back again.

He slotted himself between your thighs, pushing the hem of your thin, satin nightgown up slightly, his cold hands making you shiver. You couldn’t help but sigh, the weight of his warmth enveloping you. Sometimes you wished you were strong enough to push him away, tell him no. Not tonight, though. “Jesus, how are you not freezing?”

“I was warm under the covers until someone pulled them off me,” you retorted with a hum as his lips found your jaw, your head tilting back almost immediately against the pillow. He was in a different mood tonight. You could see it, the way he glanced at you, resting his chin on your chest. You wondered if something happened. Though, you wouldn’t dare to ask.

“Mhm, you want an apology? ‘Cause you’re not gonna get one, darlin’. I know you were waiting up for me,” he murmured softly, lips pressed against your neck. His large, calloused hand reached up your nightgown and between your thighs. He pressed his fingers against your panties that were already growing wet. “Seriously, it’s way too cold to be wearing this thing I can hardly call clothes.”

“I don’t recall you ever having an issue with them before?” You said with another hum. “In fact, thought you liked the easy access.”

He laughed a little, eyes crinkling in the way you hated. Because it meant you’d made him smile, and you hated how good it made you feel. “That’s true. So you’re wearing this just for me, huh?” He asked, fiddling with the tiny thin strap of the nightgown. “Should I say thank you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah you should,” you replied, biting your lip a little as he shifted on top of you, your body desperate for his touch.

His lips found your jaw again. “Thank you.”

“You’re being weird,” you couldn’t help but say, not used to this. You licked your lips, feeling him shift on top of you, a small groan leaving your mouth as you felt his growing bulge pressing against your thigh.

“Weird how, darlin’?” He asked. You were a little busy trying to contain your moan as his index finger hooked under the fabric of your panties, pushing them to the side.

“You’re being awfully nice,” you said earnestly, to which he simply hummed in acknowledgement, finger swiping up your entrance, eyes fixed down at your pussy. So, for some reason, you decided to push it a little. “Did something, um, happen?”

“I like this color on you,” Gator said, once again tugging on the strap of your lavender nightgown with his free hand, while the other continued circling your folds. “Makes me wanna fuck you.”

“I asked you a question.” You said, a little weakly. Knowing he wasn’t going to answer. Knowing you were gonna have to deal with not knowing why his lip was cut open.

He didn’t say anything in response, eyes fixed on yours as he gouged for your reaction as his finger rubbed against your clit, making a gasp escape your mouth before you could help it. And just like that, you were putty in his hands like you always were.

“There she is,” he mumbled softly as he added a little more pressure, almost intentionally making sure to use only one finger. “Missed this all week, hm?”

You hated how cocky he was. Actually, maybe you hated how right he was. That he hadn’t been over in almost a week and you missed him, the way he fucked you deep, the way he thrusted inside you. All you could do now was nod, a little too eagerly, hips bucking up against his finger. “Gator-”

“Shh,” he said, using his free hand to unbuckle his belt, throwing it to the side, pushing your nightgown up, bunching it around your hips. “Gotcha. Don’t worry.”

In the dim light, you could just about make out his freckles as he glanced down at you, pushing down his pants and boxers in one swift motion. The desperation from his body was evident now, the way he pumped his cock a few times. It was almost embarrassing how quickly you lifted your hips to help him slide down your panties. You didn’t miss the way he sniffed them briefly, eyes fluttering slightly as he continued pumping his cock.

Even though your body was used to his size by now, it still surprised you a little, how big he really was.

“I did,” you managed to whisper as you felt his tip rub against your slick entrance, back arching in anticipation. “I missed you, Gator.” You hated how desperate you sounded, knowing he’d relish in it, smirk and call you a whore like he usually did.

“Yeah?” he replied as he slid his cock inside you, slowly, little by little. He moaned softly. “Missed you too, all week. Thought of you.”

And you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but squeeze around him at his words, the way his hand gripped your hip under your nightgown, the other gripping the wooden headboard above you. The way he had admitted maybe for the first time ever that he missed you. He groaned in response.

“You tryna kill me, baby?” Gator practically groaned as he pushed his cock in all the way, filling you up to the brim just like he always did, stretching you out in a way that made you whimper. “God, you’re tight.”

Your eyes fluttered as he thrusted in you a few times, his lips finally finding yours, tender and soft. You loved it when he was like this. When he gave more of himself away than normal. Your hand found his cheek and you kissed him back with fervor, your tongue tangling with his. Your leg wrapped around his waist, hips rocking up to meet him halfway. He groaned in response, littering your neck in open-mouthed kisses as he fucked into you with a tenderness so rare you found yourself staring up at him in awe, mouth slightly agape.

“Mhm, please,” you found yourself saying, just for the sake of speaking. “Gator, yes, more.”

He picked up the pace slightly as per your request, his face buried in the crook of your neck, rocking into you deep with his cock, hitting your walls in a way that made your eyes roll back, trying to meet his thrusts. His pace was languid, slower than usual, like he was trying to savor this. You didn’t mind, moaning as his thumb found your clit amidst it all.

“Focus on me, mhm?” he said with a softness in his voice, thrusting deep into you, moving his face away from your neck to glance down at you. “Quiet for me, yeah? Don’t want your poor parents waking up.”

Your head fell back against the pillow, meeting his gaze, almost in a state of surprise as he kissed you again as he fucked into you deeper (if even possible) and a little faster, groaning into his mouth as pleasure swirled inside your stomach, intense and passionate. You couldn’t hold back a moan as it built up more, only increasing as Gator increased his pace.

“Missed me, yeah?” He managed to say between groans, his pants heavy. You nodded eagerly, the familiar haze starting to take over your brain, losing the ability to speak. Gator had never been so needy before. You almost didn’t know how to act, but lucky for you, all you could manage to do was moan, the pleasure taking over your body, your mind.

He pressed his lips against yours as you came to mask the whines escaping your mouth, and you knew he wasn’t far behind you, the way his thrusts were getting a little sloppier and deeper. You grasped at your sheets as you felt him come inside you, a soft whine leaving his mouth as he did, one that made you stare up at him in awe. The way his breaths were rapid and heavy, eyes half-open, slightly glassy from the pleasure.

Without another word, he pulled out of you, slumping beside you as both of you came down from your high. It wasn’t until you glanced over at him that you noticed his hand was intertwined with yours.

You were waiting, waiting for him to stand up and leave without glancing back, but he stayed lying beside you on his back for a while longer. You could feel his eyes on you as you fixed the nightgown and slipped your panties back on. For a moment, you watched him pull his pants back on, but when he glanced up, you looked away, pulling the covers over you to seem busy. You’d never done this before. He was usually long gone by now.

The chill of the fall air was starting to creep back into the room. His breaths were now stable, slow. For a moment, you thought maybe he had fallen asleep.

“Had an argument with my father,” he spoke finally, gesturing vaguely for his vape. You obliged, picking it up from your bedside table and handing it to him. “That’s what happened.”

You blinked in surprise, almost afraid to speak, as if it would shoo him away, like a scared stray cat. “Oh,” was all you could muster, your fingers trailing across his arm soothingly, your eyes barely open now, exhaustion seeping through you. You turned on your side to face him, watching him fiddle with the vape, his gaze fixed on your ceiling. “What happened?”

He was quiet again. “Nothin’ for you to worry about.”

Eyelids heavy, you hummed in response. You continued tracing his arm with your finger, pushing at the sleeve to trace over his tattoo. His eyes fluttered shut at the sensation. Maybe the exhaustion is what helped you muster up the courage to ask, “you wanna stay the night, Gator?”

He took a long hit from his vape, the strawberry scent filling the air. “Yeah, right,” he scoffed, the edge to his voice returning. But he turned on his side and looked at you, sniffing slightly. You shut your eyes then, unable to fight the exhaustion anymore.

And for once, he wasn’t gone in the morning, fast asleep beside you when you woke up in the early hours of dawn. But you couldn’t know what this meant. Not for sure.

[i-still-got-love-for-you]

Under the Mistletoe

Summary: just some fluff with Jason during Christmas!

CW: None just fluff, Christmas decorating in NOVEMBER!!!!!, literally that's it

A/N: hey yall, srry for not being active. i'm usually on tumblr when i'm depressed, so i consider this mini hiatus a good sign for my mental health. this was inspired by me decorating my xmas tree and imagining my crush, what of it? i'll do a percy or luke one if requested <3 enjoy and make sure to like and rb!

"You need some help?" Jason asked, his arm already reaching for the ornament in your hand. It was the same striking blue as his eyes. His gentle voice almost drifted into the jazz playing in the background.

"Yes, thank you so much," you sighed. You two had been decorating for two hours, losing track of time in the various boxes of Christmas decor.

One, you remember, was simply a heap of silver tinsel so tangled together you had to stop and fix. Another was full of pictures of you and your mortal parent, your age never being over seven. The most recent one you opened was full of holiday colored ornaments. Glittering red that looked like cranberries, molten gold so expertly crafted it seemed as if it was moving, green so dark and elegant you couldn't believe your eyes. And finally, an electric blue that reminded you of a certain blond.

You looked to your right, where said boy was extending his arms to put the blue ornament higher than you could reach. You could see a small slip of his stomach where his pj's rose up, but it was gone as his arms lowered. You looked back up at his disapproving face.

"Always in the gutter, love. This is Christmas, be wholesome!" he chided and tapped you on the nose . You giggled and fell into him, loosely hugging him around the waist. His arms automatically wrapped around your back and started gently swaying you two to the piano filtering through the speaker.

The swaying turned into a simple waltz, and soon you were sweeping though your shared apartment. You were laughing all the way through it, bumping into things and stepping on toes. Eventually, you stopped in a doorway, just hugging with your head to his chest.

"Looked up," he whispered into your hair. You did, and the mistletoe you found put the giddy smile back on your face.

"You know what that means..." you trailed off. You were both leaned in, eyes closed, about to touch, when-

"Hey, lovebirds! Whatcha up to?" Percy interrupted, grinning.

"How did you get keys to our apartment?" you asked, then responded to yourself, "Wait, never mind, he's Percy. Why are you in you apartment?"

"Checking that my decoration skills are being properly appreciated. And so it seems they are. Me and Annie are waiting for coffee downstairs, but I'll give you two a minute." And with that, he closed the door, locked it, and walked back to his car.

"That son of a..." Jason muttered under his breath. You grabbed his hands and pulled them to your chest.

"Hey, Percy doesn't matter right now. What matters is where we left off."

"You are absolutely right, Mrs. Grace. Where were we?" He grinned, before leaning in for a kiss.

[azrielbrainrot]

I'm sorry to kind of hijack this post but this is something I keep seeing across all fandoms and it's honestly sad to watch, especially on tumblr which was where fandoms used to thrive.

Fanfic writers and fan artists have always been the backbone of fandom and all this silence from the people consuming their stories and art is genuinely making people not want to/give up on writing/creating. I'm not sure if people don't realize it or just don't care but this has been killing fandom spaces.

It's also been explained over and over that likes don't do anything on tumblr and reblogging is always the way. Like OP said a comment or ask about the work is also more than appreciated since it's literally the only thing we get in return. I've recently seen people also saying they like stories to bookmark them and then unlike them when they've read them "to unclog the like tab". This is actually a pretty shitty thing to do if I'm being honest, and I need to remind you that fan artists/writers are doing this for free and because they feel like sharing their works when they could as easily write them for themselves, now I'd like you to think what fandom would look like if there were no writers/artists.

Anyway I can't make anyone do anything but sideblogs are so easily created on tumblr that I really can't understand why most people wouldn't do that if they don't want to clog their main account with fics in case it doesn't aesthetics/gets too messy. Since introducing comments tumblr has also made it easier to engage with writers and asks have always been around.

Support your writers and artists, a kind word of encouragement has never hurt anyone. That's all.

Hi! Is the master list a wip rn? It’s not working for me

Hi! Sorry to commandeer this post but there are a few things I want to say relating to this.

So over the past fortnight or so I've actually seriously been considering deleting my blog, or just stopping writing fanfiction entirely. Most of Two Birds has been deleted and I started getting rid of a few Teeth and Talons chapters, I think all the links to masterlists have been taken down and I've made most of the cbmthy chapters private.

I don't want to mislead anyone by speculating why I've been feeling the way I have, but I'm fatigued, exhausted, demotivated, and I feel used.

Fandom to me is supposed to be about community, not to be taken as charity. That means interacting with writers. Reblogging posts with more than just sorting tags. Commenting something other than asking to be on a taglist.

I want to stress there are over 3,600 of you following me, and yet only the first part of cbmthy, Unchained, and Stockholm Syndrome even a third of you have interacted with. Most stories I write now have around 100-300 hundred notes, a fraction of those being comments or reblogs, which is such a small percentage.

My problem isn't feeling there aren't enough likes/comments/reblogs.

My problem is when I now share a fic with you, less than one twelfth of you are even seeing/acknowledging it.

If you don't like my writing, I'm fine with that; there have been others who have been kind enough to express how much they do enjoy it, and sincere enough that I believe it.

But for anyone who doesn't enjoy my writing anymore, please unfollow me.

If you don't have the time to read the things I write anymore, please acknowledge that and unfollow me.

If you don't have the energy to enjoy fandom anymore, please unfollow me.

I'm more than happy if 100 or so of you enjoy a post, because that's one hundred people who have enjoyed something I've taken the time to write, but the remaining three and a half thousand of you, keeping quiet, not interacting, potentially not even seeing the stories I work hard on, just feel like dead weight.

A drabble, or a head-canon post takes me about two hours to write.

A 2k/3k word fic takes me around five hours to write.

A regular cbmthy chapter can take me up to eighteen hours to write. Not including editing.

So to answer your question: I don't know if it's a wip.

I haven't decided whether or not to fix all the links. I don't even know if I want people to have access to all the stuff I've written.

Hobbies are supposed to be fun, but if the discontent and resentment outweigh my enjoyment, then I have to take a break from it, either temporarily or permanently.

I'd love to write a book one day, and I think having this blog is a great way for me to practice my storytelling, but I can't do any of that if I don't have the will to write.

[16th-of-a-twigg]

🫐 Trust me. Trust me.🫐 Ko-Fi

[cfffrk]

[strange-creature-222]

The neat thing about being a Will Wood fan is that you find this decently sized community of people who like this guy and you're like "wow look at all these people I can talk to!" But it definitely isn't that BIG of a community

But after a while you realize that they're everywhere, the best example I can give is that I'm in quite a few different discord servers, for quite a few different things, and I can't name one active server that doesn't have at least one or two Will Wood fans™ and its not like it's always the same people

Idk I just find it really Interesting and cool

[michaeldamico]

YOU'RE STYLE OF FAT TONY IS HEAVENLY....

I believe I'm on cloud 9.

You know what? I fuck with you.

*shows you the simpsons doodles I made in my regular artstyle during class*

interactions hugely appreciated :333

[knifebaby3000]

fear fun fear love

[pearl-kite]

goodbye october

[keeps-ache]

api's got chores in the morning :)

[+ a smaller doodle :3]

[icewindandboringhorror]

examining a seemingly normal image only to slowly realize the clear signs of AI generated art.... i know what you are... you cannot hide your true nature from me... go back where you came from... out of my sight with haste, wretched and vile husk

[best-enemies]

I've reached season 5 on my CSI rewatch and I'm a few episodes past "Swap Meet", where a woman is murdered after attending a swing party with other couples from the neighbourhood. Near the end of the episode there's a moment that made me jump from my seat:

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two cups. He hands her a cup of tea.)

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - BRASS' OFFICE]

Erin Brady: Everybody fantasizes about other people. (She glances at Grissom.)

Even you, Mr. Grissom. A neighbor, a friend ... girl at the office.

[INT. POLICE DEPARTMENT - HALLWAY]

(The door opens. Paul Brady walks out of the hallway. Erin Brady walks out into the hallway. Sara is sitting in the hallway chair watching them. She watches as they meet and kiss.)

(Grissom walks up to Sara and takes the seat next to her. He's holding two culps. He hands her a cup of tea.)

LIKE!!!!!!!

Right after Erin ends her sentence with 'girl at the office', the first time Sara and Grissom meet again, he brings her tea. This might be an innocent interaction but to me it seemed like a nod to this relationship they have where both are into each other, know about the other's feelings, but can't/won't do anything about it (although Sara has kind of given Grissom an ultimatum). I don't know if it was intentional - I'm guessing it is, because I picked it up immediately. I might or might not have squealed in delight.

[mapplesand]

you know you're normally a fantasy author when you find yourself making an extensive timeline of events in a modern contemporary fiction about high schoolers

like yeah I absolutly needed to know where his grandpa was in germany in 1943 before they moved to the US and stuff about the cold war and the economic instability of the philippines in the 80s and 90s

[cuteniaarts]

Mirror, mirror, on the wall...

Who's the fairest of them all?