#fucking pay attention to more than just tumblr posts

[kansasjustgotgayer]

Op turned off reblogs and replies for this post but I cant not say something. Because it’s literally not about that.

If you’ve paid any attention to what the republican party looks like in 2024 you would know that the people who are changing their mind and backing Kamala are not doing it because she’s a great example of all the things they want for this nation.

They’re backing her because they know that a Trump administration would be catastrophic for every facet of how our country operates. Kamala has campaigned on a couple of strong messages including the idea that this election it is imperative to vote with the idea of “country over party.”

Because people know about project 2025 and they remember January 6th. The GOP has mutated in the last 10 years to look a lot like its ONLY the cult of trump followers but that is not true. It is full of smart people who know better and know that this is a terrible choice for everyone including themselves.

That is what these numbers really represent, not that Harris is a closet republican and a shining star candidate for these staffers. It is her appealing to republicans who feel they have to vote with their party’s nominee even when they know that option is poison.

[rainingincale]

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[skyjynxart]

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[artflameball]

So you might've noticed I've been inactive lately. It's not because of art block, I've actually been drawing a lot recently. It's because of Palestine. Because I genuinely fucking despise how little attention has been on Palestine, how Tumblr has just moved on. The genocide is still ongoing, but it feels like Tumblr has just stopped caring. Palestine isn't a fucking trend. Taking a break is different than completely diverting your eyes to return to fucking shitposting.

So, I'm effectively holding my art ransom. If you send me a receipt showing that you donated as little as a dollar to the PCRF, or to CareForGaza, or that you bought an eSim, or that you have donated to help free Palestine in general, I will post one piece of art/sketch I've done. Hell, I will take art requests if you donate five dollars or more.

You wanna see my art again? Donate to Palestine. Or hell, encourage someone else to donate to Palestine if you can't yourself. Time's running out, and Palestine NEEDS support. Pay up, bitches. Free Palestine.

[lexluvsmegs]

Destress…

[Nanami Kento x fem!reader]

Synopsis ౨ৎ - Nanami, your loving husband, comes home after a long day of work. He seems tense, so what better way to help him destress than a nice massage from his wife? But what happens if that massage leads to more..

Warnings ౨ৎ - smut ⭒ PinV (unprotected) ⭒ dry humping ⭒ riding ⭒ nanami is so hopelessly in love with you ⭒ kinda soft ⭒ very brief breeding kink ⭒ nipple sucking (f receiving)

Note ౨ৎ - Hi everyone! This is my first post on tumblr, hope everyone enjoys ೃ⁀➷

Word count ౨ৎ - 1348

(18+ please if you’re a minor do not interact!)

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Nanami was a hard worker. Anyone who knew him could tell you. So it was no surprise when one fateful day, your dear husband Nanami stumbled through the threshold to your sweet home still carrying the weight of work on his shoulders.

You could tell it had been a rough day at work as he could only muster a small smile thrown in your direction after you’d ran to the door to greet him. His shoulders were tense as he removed his coat and hung it on the hook next to your own. “Hi nami” you decided to finally break the silence. Locking his steely eyes on to your pyjama clad figure - you weren’t wearing anything too flashy, just a night gown - however, Nanami thought you looked like a goddess sent from above just for him. His pretty girl.

“Hi sweetheart” Nanami replied softly coming to wrap his big hands around your hips, his thumb rubbing small circles in to the plush of your skin. “How was work? ‘Missed you” you whisper back, the close proximity fogging your brain. Yes, Nanami was your husband. Yes, he still made you feel breathless in his presence. How could you not? “The usual. Exhausting.” He obviously wasn’t in the mood to talk about it. Nanami rolled his shoulders slightly and you could hear a few pops as he did so. You start to slowly help him undo his tie and ponder a way to help him destress after his long shift. After all, he works so hard to keep you happy, it’s the least you could do.

“Kento?” You say as you can see the physical discomfort he’s enduring, “can I give you a massage?” It’s barely audible. You don’t know why you’re so nervous. He’s your husband for Gods sakes. But you still feel yourself shift under his gaze. “Please” it’s short and sweet but you can see his love for you shine. You intertwine his hand with your own and lead him to your shared bedroom and ask him to take off his shirt and lay on his front. Nanami follows your instructions blindly and soon finds himself splayed out on your bed with you residing on his lower back with your legs on either side of his muscular build.

You run your hands down his back watching his shoulders immediately relax with your touch. “Where does it hurt?” Your angelic voice rings in his ears as he gives a reply. You soon get to work, pushing your thumbs into all the knots along his back and paying special attention to his shoulders. The groans coming from nanami are heavenly. You’re almost distracted from the task at hand, preferring to focus on the sounds coming from your lover. “Fuck, right there” you almost choke at his language. Arousal is pooling in your panties as you try to get back to the massage but nanami is relentless. Throwing borderline sexual comments out into the air. This causes you to shift your position, trying to get any form of relief, hoping Nanami hasn’t notice your massaging abilities getting less and less. However, you should know better.

Nanami has been well aware since the first grunt he let out. Maybe, just maybe, he did it on purpose. You can’t blame him for wanting to get his pretty wife all worked up. He’s been dying to get home to you, to feel your soft skin against his but he finds himself greedy. He wants to feel more of you. Be as close as possible, inside and out. Nanami can feel you subtly grinding yourself on his lower back, you’re desperate and the stifled whines coming from above are causing his restraint to wear thin. “You enjoying yourself, love?” He calls out. You immediately stop your movement, embarrassed you got caught. “I-“ you start to sputter out an excuse but are cut off by Nanami turning over. You find yourself sat on his lap and gasp, his half hard cock pushing up and giving you the pressure you desired.

“You feel what you do to me sweet girl?” Lust infiltrates his voice as he sits up against the headboard of your shared bed, his cock now fully erect. His words have you in a trance. You mindlessly regain your grinding movement, this time more open with the sounds you make. Nanami grunts and grabs onto your hips attempting to ground himself. You drive him crazy. You both lean in to meet in the middle with a hungry kiss filled with passion, your tongues exploring each others mouths in detail. Only breaking for a gasp of air. It’s oh so messy but that’s how you both like it.“Please Ken..” you whisper into his lips. “My needy girl” he laughs to himself. “What is it you want? Huh? Gotta use your words pretty” he’s teasing. However, you find yourself to be too far gone to care about anything other than kento. “Let me- let me ride you.. please Kento” you all but beg, face stuffed in the crook of his neck as you desperately hump him.

“Good girl” he lets out in a breath as he breaks apart from you to take off his work trousers and boxers leaving him bare. You also scramble to remove your items of clothing to match his nude self. You settle back on his lap, hands resting on his broad shoulders as you slide your wet cunt over his cock, coating him fully. His tip catches your entrance and causes a gasp from both parties as you lock each other in yet another searing kiss. You slowly grab the base of Kentos cock - never quite used to the sheer length or girth of it - and line it up with your entrance. Slowly, you slide down, moaning into the other’s mouth while nanami whispers nothing but praises. “Fuck, taking me so well” he all but growled out. After what seems like ages, you finally reach the bottom of Nanami’s dick and slowly raise yourself as you begin to sway and bounce your hips, creating the perfect amount of pleasure.

Nanami breaks off from your lips and dips his head to the swell of your breasts, catching one nipple between his teeth nibbling and sucking the sensitive bud causing moans and gasps to flow from your mouth. “Ah! Kento, fuck” you can barely think straight as you grab onto Nanami’s hair as leverage giving it a gentle tug causing him to whine into your breasts as he moves from one nipple to the other.

Your legs are burning and your mind is hazy. All you can register is how good it all feels and kento’s chants of ‘good girl’s and ‘I love you’s. Nanami leaves your soft mounds and shoves his face into your neck, leaving wet kisses and marks in his trail. Everything is too much as you feel yourself reaching your high. “K-kento I’m close” you choke out in a sob. His hands grab your hips and slam you down on his length forcing you to take him all. Seeing you on top of him is making him feral. He’s never thought you looked so beautiful as you do now crying on his cock. “Fuck, same baby. I’m so close. ‘Feel so good around me” his dirty words feed your pleasure. “P-please cum in me!”it only takes a few moments for you to be spasming around Nanami’s cock. He soon follows with a loud grunt and his warm cum spurting inside you, painting your walls white.

You sit with him still inside you for some time after. Both coming down from your highs and basking in each others presence. “Let’s get you cleaned up sweetheart, did so well f’me” he finally says as he picks you up and brings you to the bathroom, running you a nice hot bath.

All you can think in these soft moments is how on earth you managed to get so lucky with a man like nanami. “I love you nami” you whisper. “I love you too, my precious girl”

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Hope you all enjoyed!

© lexluvsmegs 2024 ➳ ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

PLEASE DO NOT Copy, Translate, Re-Upload, or Steal ANY of my work.

Thank You, Beautiful People!

[olderthannetfic]

How do we feel about the "Um just so you know the person you reblogged this from is an [insert undesirables category here]"? When it's some random meme or otherwise uncontroversial post, and not some elaborate political opinion post with a bunch of dogwhistles in it.

Because I just got it from a fandom acquaintance/friend and it felt really fucking unsettling.

Aside from the mutuals that I know from fandom and interact with, most of the other content I interact with on Tumblr is more about what it says than about who said it for me. I don't ever pay attention to who wrote what or which other Tumblr users they had beef with or whatever, I just read the post itself and decide if I like what it says or not. If someone posts something I REALLY dislike, I block them and move on, more in the hopes of seeing less of that sort of thing than with the intention of somehow eliminating that specific person. I never pay attention to who my mutuals are reblogging from and if I note that one of them reblogged something featuring a poster who's famously unhinged, I just assume they don't know and move on because I know my mutuals are reasonable people generally speaking. I like the anonymity of Tumblr and the focus on the content of the posts and not on specific people. It's why I hang out here and not on one of the platforms that are all about influencers and the like.

So today I was going through the blogs of a couple of people I don't follow to find a specific post and in the process I saw a fairly uncontroversial post I liked, reblogged it, and moved on. Then less than an hour later I was met with a wall of text in my DMs accusing that poster of having questionable political opinions and describing the beef they had with another person where they threatened them etc. etc.

TBH I felt incredibly uncomfortable with the level of scrutiny implied in paying attention to who I reblog random shit from, as well as the level of presumption in coming to my DMs and lecture me about it. I know nothing about the blogger they were talking about, have never interacted with him, and will probably never even have the opportunity or the desire to interact with him. He wasn't even the AUTHOR of the post, it was just on his profile. It makes me want to never post anything ever again.

I just... don't see the point of this sort of behaviour in general? "You shouldn't be giving [bad people] a platform" - look, I genuinely don't think that reblogging a pretty landscape from someone who turns out to be a TERF or whatever is platforming those beliefs in any way. I'm sorry, but I just don't see how my behaviour leads to any material harm to anyone. Even if I follow the person, the moment they start talking about TERF-y shit I'm gonna unfollow and/or block. The probability of me throwing all my well-developed political opinions down the drain and getting radicalized through the slippery slope of reblogging "CATS ARE SO CUTE WHEN THEY SWAT AT THINGS" from someone with a dogshit take about Palestine is literally zero. If it's the content of the post that's wrong, just explain why to me, or point out the dogwhistles or whatever. I'm open to being wrong in my opinions. I'm not open to my online friends acting like the fucking Stasi.

Maybe I'm just too old for these newfangled social politics but it just feels like either pointless catty high school drama or an attempt at social control that I can't help but interpret in a hostile manner. Even if it's followed by - as it was in my case - something along the lines of "obviously I'm not accusing YOU of anything!! I'm sorry it came off that way!!" when I pushed back against it. It feels like 1950s conservative housewives making sure you're not even greeting any of the town Undesirables at the grocery store, because you wouldn't want to be Morally Tainted by saying Hello to a divorcee!

It's kind of similar to the whole issue about people still writing HP fic. Am I interested in HP fic? TBH not at all - the author had soured it for me with her behaviour even before it was obvious how much she hated trans people. Do I think the people doing it are somehow harming anyone or putting money in JKR's pocket? I honestly can't see how, and so far none of the people adamantly against it have managed to explain it to me in a satisfying way, so I'm just gonna let it slide off me as another random internet hobby I don't get or care about.

--

My reaction is "Do you understand how Tumblr works? Do you?"

We have enough trouble with people reblogging barely-hidden anti-kink or homophobic shit. Who has time for cootie-based problems?

[cakesunflower]

lovelorn (and nobody knows) [rafe cameron au fic] chapter 1

Summary: Isla Carrera had planned for the summer before college to be focused on three things: helping out at her family's restaurant (the helpful daughter), preparing for college (the good student), and having fun with the Pogues (the loyal friend). But one fateful night, where her car breaks down and her rescuer is none other than Rafe Cameron, seems to send her summer down a path she didn't see coming--one teeming with a secret, illicit romance with the last person she expected. And if her friends and sister found out, Isla isn't sure they'll be so understanding, no matter what her feelings are.

Author's Note: I forgot how much I absolutely loathe writing summaries LOL but anyways! First chapter is here, let me know if y'all vibe with it. I had fun writing it and if you wanna see more, let me know! (And now I have to figure out if I remember linking everything on my blog since I haven't posted my writing on Tumblr in forever. . .)

Chapter 1

“Oh, no. No, no, no. Don’t do this to me, please.”

Isla Carrera’s pleading is in vain as the engine of her car sputters out of life, and there’s just enough juice left for her to pull over onto the side of the dirt road so she’s not stranded in the middle. Her grip on the steering wheel remains tight as she sits in silence, staring out onto the dark road only lit up by the two beams of her headlights. The small silver lining, if there is one, is that she knows exactly where she is, just a little ways away from a row of houses on Figure Eight. But right now, she’s surrounded by trees on a road that has no street lamps, the sky a blanket of black above her. 

Her groan cuts through the silence, eyes squeezing shut as she rests her forehead against the steering wheel. She should have just slept over at John B’s house like her sister, Kie, decided to. But Isla’s covering another waitress at the restaurant early tomorrow, and she didn’t want to run late again or else her parents would rip her a new one. Kie’s shift wasn’t until later in the afternoon, so her sister was in no rush to get home. Now here Isla is, with a car that won’t turn over, still a fifteen minute drive away from her house.

“Fucking great,” she mutters, making sure her hazards are on and her phone is in her pocket before getting out of the car. 

Though she knows nothing about cars, Isla pops open the hood and uses the flashlight on her phone. If she’s being honest, it all looks like a bunch of mechanical junk she has no idea how to work her way around. She’s not sure why she even bothers, so instead of wasting time, she unlocks her phone to find the number for a towing service.

A rumble of a car engine catches her attention, the kind that makes an annoying popping sound, and by the time she looks up and around the open top of her hood, she sees two guys hopping out of an old Ford truck. She vaguely recognizes them. Just by the look of them, they seem to be a couple of years older than her—and clearly from The Cut. Not that it matters, since her best friends are from the other side of the island, but not all of the people from The Cut are fond of those from Figure Eight, and vice versa. Isla and her sister, though they belong on the more privileged side of the island, prefer the freedom of The Cut. 

None of that exactly matters right now, though.

Music cranks out of the car, but Isla can’t pay it any mind as unease creeps into her stomach when both sets of eyes land on her. 

She’s a girl alone in the middle of a road at night, so Isla is immediately on high alert as the guys make their way towards her, slow but confident in a way that makes her feel like a prey. I don’t like this. 

Alarm bells are ringing in her head as one of the guys in cargo shorts and a tank top shoots her a slimy grin. “Car trouble, sweetheart?”

Isla’s muscles tense. Yeah, nope. Not good. “Uh, no, all good,” she says, forcing some of that confidence into her voice that Kie is an expert at wielding. 

The other one with darker hair hidden under a baseball cap asks, “You sure we can’t help?” His grin is anything but charming. “We’d be more than happy to help.”

They don’t stop their approach, and Isla’s mind begins running through different scenarios, her pulse beginning to quicken in panic she’s trying to keep at bay. There’s no one around to help, and she can’t depend on another car passing by and stopping to help—if they even would. She doesn’t want to lock herself in her car while she calls her dad or friends for help; the idea of sitting trapped makes her heart squeeze with dread.

“You can stop right there.” She doesn’t want to give into the fear that’s slithering through her veins, but she can’t stop the words from escaping her mouth, the crunch of the dirt beneath their shoes too daunting to ignore. 

Her hand inches towards her back pocket where she had stashed her keys, fingers closing around the small can of pepper spray she’s got hooked in there. Isla has never had the unfortunate opportunity to use it before, but the vibes she’s getting right now—first time for everything. 

“What’s the matter?” the first guy asks with a taunting tilt of his head, neither of them stopping their pace. “We’re only here to help.”

Yeah, fucking right. “Stop.” Her heart is pounding in her ears, taking a few steps back.

Creepy guy number two exchanges a look with number one. “See that, Dyl? Little Miss Kook looks a little scared.”

Oh, screw this. Isla refuses to stick around and find out what’s going to happen, and she doesn’t at all feel guilty when she juts her hand forward and presses down on the top of the small can. Her aim is a little off, so she only manages to spray the first guy—Dyl. The sound of his shriek of pain cuts through the air, and he stumbles back and spits out curses as he presses the heels of his palms into his eyes.

The second guy freezes in surprise, looking between Isla and his friend, but she doesn’t stick around to see what he’s going to do next. Instead, Isla turns and makes a run for it, making sure to press the button on her FOB to lock her car as she bolts down the dirt road. She can hear the guys yelling over the sound of the breeze rushing past her ears, fear fueling more power to her legs as she nears a neighborhood street at the end of the dirt road. Isla isn’t sure if they’re following her, or if they’re even going to, but she doesn’t pause to find out. 

She runs and runs, her lungs beginning to burn, as she rounds a stone wall with greenery growing through the cracks that closes in a property—only for her vision to go black for a split second when she collides against something.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Scratch that—make that someone, because instead of falling back on her ass, a strong pair of arms wrap around her waist to keep her from tumbling down. The grip is tight and secure, and a delicious aroma of what seems to be earthy wood tickles her nose. “What the hell are you—Isla?”

The sound of her name being spoken in that all too familiar voice clears Isla’s head, and she pulls back enough to look up into the startling blue eyes of Rafe Cameron. Her pounding heart seems to slow down a fraction, and she’s not sure what to make of the mild relief that calms down her frazzled nerves because this is Rafe Cameron. Sure, he might not be as bad as those two freaks, and he’s one of her close friends’ brothers, but he’s still the same guy that has gotten into more than a few fights with her best friends. That being said, she shouldn’t find as much comfort as she does being in front of him. 

Her breathing is heavy, pulse throbbing uncontrollably. She only barely registers her hands gripping his forearms, like it’s grounding her as she takes in Rafe’s expression. His eyebrows are furrowed together as he looks down at her, his height towering over her five-foot five frame, and there’s more confusion than worry in his features, unsurprisingly. Her heavy breathy makes her privy to the scent of nicotine, glancing down to see a half used cigarette now laying forgotten on the ground. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Rafe repeats. Isla hears the familiar thread of annoyance in his voice, but she can’t bring herself to give a damn. 

She lets go of him like he’s electrocuted her, taking a step back and forcing him to let go of her, too. It takes everything in her not to acknowledge the way her skin burns where his had touched hers. “Going for a run, what does it look like?” she snaps back, though her voice trembles on her breath. 

Rafe’s expression deadpans, though he arches an eyebrow under the dirty blonde bangs that frame his forehead. “Looks like you’re scared,” he states. 

“I—” Isla gets cut off by the familiar sound of a car engine rumbling, the popping kind, and the breath locks in her throat as she glances over her shoulder. “Fuck,” she breathlessly mutters, catching sight of the headlights creeping up from around the corner on the road. She’s not sure if those guys are looking for her—though, she wouldn’t be surprised given that she pepper sprayed one of them, and her pulse quickens again in panic with the need to hide away.

“Wait—are you running from someone?” Rafe questions, and Isla looks back at him to see his gaze pointed over her head, right where the noise of the car is coming from. A car that sounds to be approaching too close.

“You’re asking too many questions,” Isla returns hastily, stepping to go around him. “I need to go—”

Rafe lets out an exasperated huff, and if she had all her wits about her, she’d snap at him. But instead, surprise slams through her when Rafe’s hand wraps around her bicep, his grip firm but not tight as he mutters, “Come here.”

Before Isla knows it, she’s being dragged through the gate of the Cameron estate, disappearing onto the property right when the car turns the corner. Her heart launches to her throat when Rafe suddenly turns her, and she’s being pressed against the stone wall, soft leaves pressing to her back in contrast to the hard surface.

Isla’s eyes widen when Rafe’s body presses against her, the air rushing out of her lungs as her gaze snaps up to meet his. “What are you doing?” she asks, her words a mere breath.

He seems surprised by his own actions, lips pursed and that muscle in his clean shaven jaw pulsing almost as quickly as her own heart. Can he hear the thundering, feel it? “Just—stay quiet,” Rafe grits.

Part of Isla wants to push him off—the part that sounds a lot like her friends. But fear wins out, keeping her in place, as she hears the car creep along in front of the gate of the Cameron property. 

Rafe’s eyes silently tell her to remain quiet and something tightens her stomach—something other than fear—and it startles her enough to flick her gaze to the left, towards the vine wrapped gate. She can see the headlights slowly passing by, and she prays that these guys aren’t stupid enough to trespass private property.

Then again, they were ready to do God-knows-what to her, so who the hell knows?

The thought alone sends her heartbeat accelerating all over again, panic settling in her bones hard enough to rattle them. Isla’s hands fist at her sides, eyes squeezing shut as she leans her head back against the wall. How the hell had her night taken such a freaky turn? And how is it that Rafe Cameron, of all people, is the one to help her out?

Suddenly, the mid-May night doesn’t feel as warm as Rafe’s body; he isn’t close enough where his body is completely pressing into hers, but she can feel the soft material of his shirt fluttering against the bare skin of her stomach, thanks to her crop top. Isla can feel the heat of his skin seeping into hers, which makes her heart thunder with something other than panic, and she’s not entirely sure what the hell to do with that.

“Relax—they’re gone.”

His voice is low and gruff, a tone that makes goosebumps pebble her skin even in this warm weather. Isla opens her eyes with a sharp exhale and her brown eyes immediately find Rafe’s blue, her throat tightening under his scrutinizing gaze. True, she can’t hear the engine anymore, the headlights are also gone, and Isla tries to even out her breathing while nodding slowly. 

Rafe’s eyes rake over her and shouldn’t she feel unsettled about that? About how close he’s standing to her? But it seems like all of her unease has been used up from evading those weirdos, so Rafe Cameron being her rescuer doesn’t annoy her as much as it normally would. 

“So what was that about?” he questions, raising an eyebrow.

Isla’s throat works, dragging her gaze back up at him. The lamps spaced out along the wall light his face, casting shadows along his sharp cheekbones. He’s so handsome—the thought crosses through her mind quickly, and though she would never admit it to her friends, she can’t help but find the truth in it—as insane as it might be.

“Nothing to concern yourself with,” Isla finds herself saying, lifting her chin in a small act of defiance.

The corner of Rafe’s mouth twitches into a ghost of a smirk, and through the light reflecting in his eyes, she can see them dancing in amusement. “Given that I just saved your ass, an explanation would be nice.”

Isla scowls, all thoughts of his stupidly good looks vanishing. “I didn’t ask you to do that. I had it under control.”

It’s a lie spoken through her teeth, and Rafe can see that. “Yeah, looked real under control when you were running for your life,” he replies dryly, eyebrows rising. But then his expression flattens out, eyebrows furrowing together once again as he says, “Seriously, Isla. What gives? What the hell was that about?”

“Just—some fucking weirdos, I don’t know,” she huffs, frustration from this entire ordeal bubbling to the surface as she rubs her hands up her face and runs her fingers through her hair. “I—Can you back up?” she asks hastily, forcing a glare. Rafe, surprisingly, simply presses his lips together and raises his hands in defense while taking a couple of steps away from her. Isla is no longer embraced by his warmth, by his scent, and there’s an unexpected tug in her chest that she ignores. “My car broke down on that dirt path behind the road. I was trying to figure it out when these guys pulled up and, I don’t know, shit got weird so I made a break for it.”

Rafe frowns as he listens to her, and Isla shakes her head, rubbing the back of her neck. “I need to get back to my car,” she says.

“Seriously?” Rafe asks, scoffing. “You’re gonna go back when some freaks are looking for you?”

Isla glares at him, not at all appreciating him talking to her like she’s stupid. “My wallet’s still in my car. I need to grab it if they haven’t fucking broken into my car already.”

She moves past him to head to the gate, surprised to hear his footsteps as he easily catches up to her. “What, you’re gonna walk back?” When Isla glances at Rafe, he’s looking at her like she’s insane. No sign of the contempt he normally saves for her and her friends, which is slightly unnerving. “After you were just running from some freaks? You do realize how much of a bad idea that is, right?”

She shrugs even as the unease from before returns at the idea of running into those guys again. “I need to get my wallet,” is her meek response.

Rafe lets out a breath, running his fingers through his hair and Isla briefly frowns at herself at the way her gaze seems to run to the flex of his bicep. And the way her stomach fucking flutters because this is Rafe Cameron. The only fluttering her stomach should be doing where he’s concerned is one tinged with nausea.

Rafe then fixes her with a stern look. “Come on,” he says firmly before walking down the driveway of his house.

Isla blinks out of whatever stupor she was in and glares at his back—and at the demand he left her with. She scoffs, hands splaying in annoyance until she realizes he’s headed straight for his motorcycle. Her shoulders drop, rooted on the spot as she says flatly, “You’re joking.”

Rafe is already pulling out a helmet—scratch that, two helmets—and looking at her, once again, like she’s an idiot while she glares at him. At least there’s that bit of normalcy. “This—” He holds up both helmets in each hand. “Is better than you walking back to your car by yourself. Let’s go.”

Isla’s disbelief only intensifies. She doesn’t walk over to him, doesn’t take the proffered helmet. Instead, she exhales sharply and crosses her arms over her chest, asking, “Why are you helping me?”

Rafe has the gall to look annoyed by her question, arms resting at his sides. His gaze locks with Isla’s, but she doesn’t shy away from it as he eventually drops his head back with a groan before looking back at her once more. “Listen, contrary to your and your friends’ popular belief, I’m not a complete dick.” Isla can’t help but scoff and roll her eyes, cutting her gaze away from him in doubt. He cannot be serious. “I wouldn’t want either of my sisters to be fucking chased by some losers, so just think of this as my good deed of the month, alright? Now will you please take the damn helmet and get on the bike?”

Frankly, Isla feels like she’s just stepped into an alternate reality because, seriously, when was the last time Rafe Cameron ever did anything nice for her—if ever?

But as much as Isla’s pride is begging for her to tell him thanks but no thanks and turn and walk back to her car, fear still resides in the pit of her belly, waiting to strike. She hates to admit it, but Rafe is right. It’d be dumb of her to walk back alone at night after what just happened. Maybe she could call her sister or one of her friends, but that would just add unnecessary time to all this, and Isla just really wants to get home. So, fine; maybe she can accept Rafe’s offer to drive her to her car, and then from there maybe she can call an Uber home and call a tow truck from the safety of her bedroom.

Rafe holds out one of the black helmets in impatience, and Isla purses her lips as she pushes herself to walk over. She does her best not to admire the sight of him next to his bike, something she never would have done before tonight. Maybe this whole freaky situation has loosened some screws in her brain.

Isla all but snatches the helmet out of his hand, though a part of her feels as though it’s just for appearances’ sake to keep up her usual attitude around Rafe, and tucks her dark hair behind her ears before pulling the helmet on, the visor still up. She tries her best not to think of the weight of his gaze on her as she fiddles with the straps on her chin to secure the helmet, but she’s unable to get it right, fingers trembling despite herself.

“I got it,” Rafe says, and Isla freezes when he gently bats her hands away and steps up to her, using his finger to push at the bottom of the helmet so she can tilt her head back enough for him to see the straps. The heat of his body greets her once more and she’s silent as she feels him secure the straps, breath hitching quietly when the backs of his fingers brush against her skin. 

He’s done within seconds, but it sure as shit feels longer as she remains standing there, watching him pull on his own helmet. Isla watches silently as Rafe gets on the bike, wondering how she got here, and he says, “Hop on.”

Isla has ridden on the back of JJ’s bike plenty of times, so she gets on with no trouble, though she does have to grip Rafe’s shoulders in order to do so. They’re broad and firm under her hands, and she mentally chastises herself for even thinking about his stupid shoulders. When she’s settled behind him, her legs framing his, Isla’s heartbeat picks up at the sudden proximity, her front against his back. 

She’s sure she’s barely breathing when her skin warms because there’s barely any space that exists between them, and when Rafe tells her, “Hold on or risk flying off,” she can’t decide if she wants to smack him upside the head or beg for the ground to swallow her whole.

Sliding the visor down, Isla inhales deeply and quietly before winding her arms around Rafe’s waist, teeth gritting together because if her friends saw her now, they definitely would believe she’s lost her mind. The fact of the matter is, right now all she can seem to focus on is the solidness of his stomach against her arms and how fucking good he smells, which is confusing and overwhelming and everything in between.

The motorcycle’s engine roars to life, and seconds later Rafe is kicking off the kick-stand and they’re riding down the driveway and onto the road. She had told him her car stopped on the dirt path behind the actual road, separated by trees, and that’s all Rafe seemingly needs to know as he takes them in the right direction. The breeze as they go feels good against her, cooling her heated skin down and she would never admit it, but riding on the back of Rafe Cameron’s bike has a somewhat calming effect on her.

The tension that had tightened her muscles since her encounter with those other guys melts away, and the rapid thumping of her heart has nothing to do with anxiety and everything to do with the thrill of this moment. Maybe it’s ill advised, but it seems to be exactly what she needs as the night air mixes with Rafe’s cologne—or maybe he just smells like that in general?

God, she’s getting too weird about this.

Soon enough, her car comes into view and Isla is relieved when there seems to be no sign of those guys. Rafe stops the bike right next to her car, and another sigh of relief escapes her when she sees that her car doesn’t look damaged. Swinging her leg over, she uses Rafe’s shoulders as leverage to get off the bike, trying not to think too much about the loss of his body heat as she reaches for the helmet straps. 

They’re easier to undo than they were to strap, and she lifts the helmet off, one hand already flattening her dark hair as Rafe holds his hand out for the helmet. As she unlocks the car, Rafe asks, “How’d you manage to outrun them?”

Isla leans into the driver’s seat, reaching for her tote bag in the passenger seat. She digs through it for a moment, taking stock of her wallet, lip gloss, lip balm, and the few other things still safely inside. “I pepper-sprayed one of them,” she answers as she pulls out and straightens. 

When she turns to look at Rafe, whose helmet’s visor is up, she sees the smirk that curls at his mouth. How does a sight that made her want to knee him in the stomach before make her feel kind of weak kneed right now? Did those guys really freak her out so much that now down is up and left is right? “Nice,” he murmurs, nodding in approval. Jutting his chin towards her car, he asks, “You gonna call a truck?”

Isla shakes her head. “When I get home,” she says, pulling out her phone. 

Rafe nods as he holds the helmet out once more. “Alright, let’s go.”

Isla pauses, gaze flicking up from her phone screen where the Uber app is open to look at him. Arching an eyebrow, she asks, “Uh, go where?”

He mirrors the arched eyebrow look. “I’ll take you home,” he says as if it’s obvious when it very much isn’t.

“No thanks. I can Uber,” she answers, already putting her home address in.

Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he remains sitting on his bike. “You’re just full of bad ideas tonight, aren’t you?” he says. Isla’s eyes narrow, irritation sparking through her as he splays his arms out to gesture to the road they’re on. “You’re really gonna wait out here on a dirt road, with no street lamps, in the dark for an Uber when I’m offering you a ride home right now?” Before she can respond, he carries on, “On the same stretch of road, mind you, that you just got harassed on?”

The irritation intensifies, and Isla’s expression twists into a glare as she snaps, “What’s it to you, huh? You already did your good deed of the month. We’re not friends, Rafe. I don’t need your help.”

Even with the helmet on, she can tell he’s clenching his jaw, eyes hard as he sets them on her. The look makes her chest burn in a way that’s not all unwelcome, and that alone should be a sign that she’s losing it. “We may not be friends, but you’re my sister’s friend, alright? Sarah would kill me if she found out I left you out here by yourself. So stop being so fucking stubborn and get on the damn bike, Isla. I’m taking you home.”

She presses her tongue to her cheek, shoulders bunched in frustration while Rafe glares at her, his own impatience radiating off of him in waves. Sarah has told Isla how stubborn her brother can be, and while Isla doesn’t know Rafe well, she knows him and has dealt with him enough to know he isn’t budging on this. So, with a huff, she snatches the helmet once more, ignoring the protests in her head that sound suspiciously a lot like her friends as she pulls the helmet on. 

She manages to get the straps this time and gets back on the bike, her bag securely hanging off her shoulder as Rafe starts the bike again and Isla swallows silently as she wraps her arms around his waist once more. Every part of her is warm where it touches him, and as he drives, she tilts her head back, practically begging for anyone listening to get her to calm the hell down.

Seriously—how the hell did Rafe Cameron become her would-be hero of tonight?

Luckily, her house is a ten minute drive from the Cameron house and Isla allows him to pull up to the front of the house, since Kie isn’t home and has no chance of peeking out her bedroom window and seeing Isla getting off Rafe’s bike. He parks the bike and Isla lets go of him almost immediately, hopping off the bike and undoing the straps of the helmet under her chin.

Rafe is already looking at her by the time she gets the helmet off, his blue eyes visible since the visor is lifted. With a close mouthed, saccharine smile, Isla all but shoves the helmet into his hands. “Thanks for the ride. Let’s never do this again.”

He scoffs as he shakes his head, but the smirk on his face is apparent. “Don’t have to tell me twice.”

Isla rolls her eyes and, without another word, turns towards her house. She’s on the front porch and fishing keys out when she glances to the right and sees Rafe still parked there, seemingly watching her. Her stomach does a stupid, weird flip as she unlocks the door and shoos him. “Go away,” she hisses, even though Kiara isn’t home and her parents wouldn’t care that Rafe dropped her off—hell, her mom would be thrilled, honestly.

Even from this distance, she can just picture Rafe’s arrogant smirk as he lifts a hand in a two fingered salute before revving the engine of his bike, and Isla clenches her jaw as he speeds off, the roar echoing down the block. Exhaling sharply, Isla shakes her head and walks into her house, shutting the door behind her just as she hears footsteps approaching her.

“Where have you been?” her mom asks, not demanding but more concerned.

Isla smiles sheepishly as she faces her mother. “Yeah, about that. . .”

[demiromanticmickey]

On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

[faecaribou]

Stardew Valley Tumblr Simulator

📚 solarian_bookworm

Hey guys! Any tips on how to get this little boy I'm tutoring to actually pay attention to my lessons? He's not very good at reading, but I'm even letting him pick out which books and he still can't focus! We don't have good education where I'm from (Pelican Town) so any chance he has at learning is from me. How do I help him?

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

Feed him a stew that makes him go blind

🧭 stardewexplorer Follow

feed him the stew that makes you blind for one day

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

stew that blinds him for one day

⚅ desert-clubber Follow

Perhaps feed him a stew that makes him go blind for one day?

🪩 insomniac-boy Follow

1 day blinding stew

✨ sparkle-on Follow

wait guys isnt pelican town the place where once a year when the governor visits everyone puts an ingredient into a big pot and they make a stew and everyone eats from it??? dont give this poor girl this advice 😭😭😭😭😭

🎷 zuzu-zoomer Follow

lmao thats hilarious. do it

📚 solarian_bookworm

...I think I'll just ask his mom for advice. Thanks though...

250 notes

🧵 parrot-enthusiast

halfway through the brand new dress! embroidering it is taking forever ugh

3 notes

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

Solarian Chronicles sucks

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

if you say one more word on this subject im going to kill you

🗺️ superhaterlock Follow

I just don't get why defending and healing gives you a better score than attacking

📔 sc-fanatic Follow

oh you mean the rpg game based on the books. continue

💿 seb-codes

:( i like the game

30 notes

🎸 pop_punkist

Come see my band perform live tonight at Zuzu City!

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

Hi yes I'd like to file a complaint. i went to your concert and I saw that damn eldritch monster that I swear I saw last week. What the fuck is that and what meme did I miss

🎸 pop_punkist

uh. are you talking about the farmer? they're actually the one who helped me start my bad they're sick as fuck. do you mind

🚙 jojacolaaddict Follow

what the fuck is the farmer

15 notes

💣 back-in-town Follow

AITA for yelling at my wife?

I just came home from active deployment against the Gotoro army. i lost a lot of friends in the war. I was having a bad day and my wife tried to make my popcorn to cheer it up because it used to be my favorite but it reminded me of the bombs. I yelled at her that she should know better but the local farmer was at our house and told me not to take out my pain on my wife. Am I the asshole?

🎡 fuck-gotoro Follow

NTA thank you for your service. if she did any kind of research on how to help people with PTSD from the war she would know to not be making loud banging noises like that

🏴‍☠️ piratewreck Follow

What? YTA why would his wife know. she was trying to make his favorite food. she should divorce him

28 notes

I started this tumblr stimulator post and then forgot about it and gave up 😭

[qprstobin]

Stobin Different First Meeting AU where they go to prom together. This was meant to be an au post and turned into a mini fic oops (written completely within a tumblr post so sorry for the poor quality)

(edit: realized I should link the fic I was inspired by for those who don't follow me and so didn't see me reblog it earlier)

Steve doesn't necessarily want to go to prom, right? Like yeah, he'd been imagining it for a while, but now that he was very, very single it just didn't have the same shine that it used to. And he really wasn't ready to start dating yet. However, he didn't want to just, not go to prom, and also knew it would seem really weird (and pretty fucking sad) if he didn't go.

Which leaves him in a conundrum.

He thought for a while that maybe he would go with one of the junior cheerleaders. While he didn't have any close friends anymore, he was still friendly with plenty of people. There were girls that wouldn't be going to prom unless they had a senior boyfriend - some he had even gone on dates with in the past who wouldn't think a single prom date meant that he wanted a new girlfriend.

However, he is pretty sure most of those girls would have... other expectations for the night. And honestly? He isn't quite sure that he was ready to get back on that horse either.

... Not that he thought women were horses.

He's pretty sure men are normally the ones called horses in riding metaphors.

Anyway.

That left him stuck. He couldn't just not go to prom, but also didn't want to wind up trapped on an actual date with someone. So who could he ask?

His solution ended up coming from an odd place.

Robin Buckley was... quite honestly, kind of a weirdo.

She was cute, in an alternative sort of way. She never took any of his shit (he wasn't completely sure she even liked him) but also reluctantly laughed at the snarky shit he said under his breath during their Film History class. And not in the fake giggly way girls did when they were flirting, but didn't actually care about what he was saying, just the way he said it. She actually seemed to think he was funny. Even if that revelation seemed to piss her off.

The only reason he was even in Film History that semester - and therefore, knew who she was - was for the easy A. He got to watch movies in class, and watch movies for homework. He was willing to plow through a couple of shitty essays in exchange for a class that he didn't feel like a complete idiot in.

(Well, he was pretty sure Robin thought he was an idiot about movies, but just because he had trouble remembering the names and shit of characters, didn't mean he couldn't analyze the themes, fuck you very much, Buckley.)

They had gotten assigned a project together early on, and it hadn't been completely terrible. She had quickly taken over doing most of the writing portions, but hadn't thought all of his ideas were terrible. By the end of the project he thought they were even sort of having fun together.

He'd always been one to try his luck, take a little more than he was given. So, after that assignment was over, he started sitting next to her in class, not wanting that easy, if sharp, camaraderie to end. Robin rolled her eyes at him and asked him what he thought he was doing the first time he did it, but she never sent him away.

They ended up chatting more and more during down times, passing notes to each other and sharing sly comments under their breaths during the movies. Steve often had trouble paying attention at school, his mind easily wandering away, and it was almost as bad during most movies, but Robin helped keep him on track.

The class turned into one that was done for the easy grade, a last ditch effort to improve his already hopeless GPA, and became one he actually enjoyed.

The more he thought about it, the more he liked the idea of going to prom with Robin. It made the night seem a little less unbearable.

He thought about making a big deal out of asking her, because he knows that's what girls (and even Nancy) had enjoyed for past dances. He quickly scrapped that idea, however, because not only did he not want to put pressure on her like that, but also she seemed to hate public spectacles like that.

Or at least when aimed at her, they both enjoyed watching drama unfold in the halls a bit too much to say she hated it completely.

So Steve waits until the end of the day, their film class being their last, to pull her into an empty classroom. She follows him without question in a show of trust he didn't realize she had in him. The notion warms him, and for some reason makes it more difficult to get the question out.

"Why do I feel like you're about to try to sell me drugs or something?" Robin asked, raising an eyebrow at him. He squints at her in offense.

"Why is that your first assumption?!"

"I don't know! Why else are you pulling me out of the hallway all secretive like, making sure no one followed us, into an abandoned classroom," she asks, throwing her arms into the air.

"The classroom isn't abandoned, it's the end of the day! Also, who does drug deals on campus, that's just stupid?" He asks rhetorically, before waving one hand through the air, as if trying to erase the current thread of conversation. "That doesn't matter, you're distracting me."

"Well then, get on with it! Some of us have practice we need to get to."

"It's like talking to the kids," he mutters to himself, "Whatever. I wanted to ask - will you go to prom with me?"

That stops Robin up short. There's panic in her eyes now, though Steve isn't sure what exactly put it there. Was his reputation that bad that even band geeks are terrified of getting asked out by him?

"You want to go on a date? With me?" she asks slowly, disbelief coloring her voice, though it doesn't hide her unease.

"No, I want to go to prom with you," he scoffs, "Not go on a date with you."

"That is a date, dingus! The person you go to prom with is literally called your date!"

"Okay, sure, maybe, but I don't actually want to date you," he said, rolling his eyes at her.

Like, okay, he understood his reputation for being... what did she call him last week? A 'huge effing rake'? But that didn't mean that he was trying to date any girl that looked in his direction. A lot of girls looked in his direction. That was too many women, even for him.

Robin relaxes a little at that.

"Then why are you asking me to prom instead of someone you actually want to date?"

"Because!" he says, resisting the urge to flail his hands back at her. "I don't want to date anyone right now. Most people I ask are going to expect all these things from me - they're going to want dinner, and at the very least a kiss at the end of the night if not more, or another date the very next day. Because Steve Harrington is supposed to want those things!" He takes a deep breath and runs a hand through his hair to calm himself. "But right now? I really don't."

"Well then, what does Steve the Hair Harrington actually want?" She had relaxed fully at this point, a smile playing at the corner of her mouth.

"I want to go to prom with someone I consider a friend, someone who makes me laugh," he says after a moment of silence. "I want to dance badly to really corny pop music and drink just enough spiked punch that I don't remember how much I hate wearing any sort of tie. Then I want to go get milkshakes or go see a really trashy midnight horror flick, just because I'm having so much fun I don't want the night to end."

That small smile has grown into a reluctant grin on Robin's face. It makes her eyes shine and her freckles pop. Steve thought that if he was in a better place, if they had met at a different time, he could have fallen in love with her.

But they had met now instead, in some shitty public school elective course, and she was the closest thing he had to a friend that wasn't a snotty middle schooler.

"That sounds... like a lot of fun, actually," she says, mischief sparking on her face. "Who would've known the hidden depths hidden behind all that hair."

"Hey!" he protests half-heartedly, unable to keep a grin of his own off his face. "So what do you say? Wanna go to prom with me?"

"I guess," she sighs, acting like it was such a trial to go to prom with him. Him! But her next words make up for it. "Since we're friends, and all. However, I still expect you to buy me dinner, though you can keep the kiss goodnight to yourself."

Steve can't help the giddy laugh from spilling out of him. For the first time in weeks, he is actually looking forward to prom.

[otrtbs]

Okay Y'all

It has come to my attention that someone is selling copies of Art Heist, Baby! on Etsy this evening. If you've been here for a little while then you'll remember something similar happening to me on Amazon. This seller on Etsy is also selling copies of several other fanfics. Once again, this is not me, I do not condone this, I didn't give my consent for this, and I am frustrated beyond belief.

I am taking measures to contact the seller and to get the Etsy listing taken down. (feeling super disheartened abt the people who have this fic in their basket rn icl. DO NOT pay (esp this ungodly amount) for fanfics you can read for free online. and don't profit off of fanfiction.)

I do feel like every time something like this happens, I run to tumblr, make a post, and make something like this everyone else's problem. And I want to apologize for that and say that this is in no way y'alls issue (unless you are the one selling fanfiction and/or buying it). It is my fanfic, my issue, and I am handling it (though, I always appreciate each and every single one of you going out of your way to help more than you could possibly know). However, I am making this post to let everyone know that

I am no longer allowing people to make physical copies of my fanfiction.

People have used my acceptance of hand binding my fic for personal use and abused it to sell my fic and mass-produce it. Not cool. So I would like to say I am no longer allowing physical copies of my fics to be made. I don't know if that will fix or change anything and I am extremely doubtful that the people who are the issue will even listen to or care about what I wish since they've already disregarded that but I really don't know what else to do at the moment. I am hoping this issue will get resolved shortly! As always, Art Heist, Baby! is available to read online for free on ao3! (how cool is that?) Thanks for reading and hearing me out. Sorry again about another post like this but it's always fucking something with this fandom and I just don't ever know what else to do.

[yourlocalbadgerscales]

Oh. My. God.

Okay so, we all know Gracie Abrams is a very talented artist and she’s blowing up recently, as she should! But because of the mass coming out theory, I tend to pay attention to her lyrics more than I probably would otherwise, just like I do with Taylor Swift for obvious reasons (cough cough in gaylor…).

Close To You started playing earlier today, and I’m so intrigued!

To start off with the lyric “Under pink light in June”… June is pride month. Of course I reacted when I heard this lyric! And also… “pink light” immediately makes me think of the pink and orange lights Taylor uses to flag the lesbian colours throughout the Eras Tour! I’ve tried looking for pics with pink light from June 2024 and June 2023, but I haven’t found anything exciting so far! Anyone reading this, feel free to help me figure out what this lyric really means!

I do think it’s significant! Why? Because if you listen closely, you can hear something I can best describe as a glitch exactly when that lyric plays 👀

“We were supposed to be just friends”, anyone?

(That line is literally a summation of “Close To You” to me- like, the whole song just gives the vibes of having a massive crush on a girl best friend. Ya know?)

I recommend listening to this! The glitch is at 00:27!

You still here? Good! I have even better stuff to say! Have some patience while I get to the best part 👀

Of course, we have the “Now your mouth is moving cinematic timing”. And we have this:

Has anybody else noticed that Gracie’s mouth has become clearer lately?

(Tumblr wouldn’t let me put another video here for some reason, so here you can find it in a separate post I made! Look at that, and then look at the video above. See the clear difference? 👀) For me it seems like Gracie is trying to say “Pay attention to what I’m saying and singing. Listen carefully and closely. We’re getting closer and closer to the big reveal. Have patience. We’re almost there.”

And here comes the best part!

We all know The Manuscript. The last song on the last album Taylor Swift has released, The Tortured Poets Department. Fucking heartbreaking to listen to when you know the meaning behind it. If you ask me, The Manuscript is basically Taylor saying goodbye to her fans and announcing that this is the end. “Now and then I re-read the manuscript, but the story isn’t mine anymore”…

I mean, c’mon, it’s the last lyric too! Of the last song… of the last album she’s released! This is a goodbye if I’ve ever seen one.

But that’s not what interests me the most about this song! Not right now, at least. Because here’s the thing. If you listen closely between the first and second verse of the song, you can hear the sound of a pen against paper… writing something.

1:11

I’ve read theories about that symbolising Taylor signing the contract that made her lose ownership of her songs. I’m sure you know what contract I’m talking about. I, however, don’t think that’s what it means, and I don’t think that’s what the song is about. I think the sound of the writing is simply Taylor writing The Manuscript. But there’s more to it than that!

If you scroll back up to listen to the Close To You instrumental I so helpfully provided you with, and start playing it at 2:46-3:09, you might notice something… yup, that’s right.

Doesn’t it sound just like a pen writing down something on paper? 👀 Oh, I’m SO sure!

[byfulcrums]

DC headcanons but you can tell who's my favorite

For some reason Wally cries everytime he eats chicken nuggets with the Titans

Not even Wally knows why this happens

It's only with the original Titans. No one else. They have a rule that says Wally isn't allowed to eat chicken nuggets when he's around them because they all hate to see him cry

Iris sleeptalks. Barry sometimes has full conversations that make no sense with her at four in the morning

Hal has a video that lasts 40 minutes saved on every single piece of technology he has. It's about Iris (who was asleep) and Barry (very much awake, but probably delusional) arguing about whether koalas are evil or not

Tim had a Tumblr blog where he posted photos of Batman and Robin that looked like they were taken from very close angles

Jason follows it. One time he was complaining that his favorite blog hadn't posted anything in years. When Tim asked him to show him what account it was, he panicked, tried to run away, hit his head and passed out from exhaustion

Jason is still confused about that, but no matter how much he insists, Tim refuses to give his secret away

Wally has a deep hatred for Dora the Explorer

The Young Justice once ran away to a different country for a whole month and refused to acknowledge it when they came back

Iris, Barry and Hal are all dating. Barry didn't realize it at first though (Hal didn't either)

Barry was really panicking over the fact that he seemed to be in love with his best friend when he's already married

Hal was really panicking over the fact that he was in love with his best friend who is already married

Iris thought they were all just poly. They had a very long conversation after she realized none of them knew about polyamorous relationships

Wally and Dick, even though they both have their own romantic partners, are soulmates in every universe (can be seen as romantic or platonic)

Wally once got both him and Dick (as Flash and Nightwing) banned from a cafe. Dick wasn't even there

He accidentally knocked a candle and burned the table down

But what actually got them banned was commenting to the very homophobic owner that “I don't have a major opinion on that Nightwing guy besides of the fact that he gives some really good blowjobs” (they never even fucked)

In Wally's defense, he was really unstable at the moment, and he panicked

Of course, people filmed it. And, of course, it went viral. Now all of his friends quote him on that all the time

Technically they're not banned anymore because the cafe's owner changed, but he's still too embarrassed to go so he ignores that

All speedsters are constantly vibrating, some being more obvious than others, due to the fact that being still is... really fucking difficult because of everything being slower for them

Bart's the most noticeable one. If you pay enough attention you'll notice that you can sometimes see a little bit of lightning coming out of his body

The vibrations causes them to do a low rumbling sound that isn't exactly snoring when they're sleeping. What I'm saying is that they purr

Linda was thrilled when she found out

None of the speedsters are aware of this and no one plans on telling them

One time the YJ were talking and Bart interrupted them so Tim turned around to face him and said “Cerra el orto” (shut your mouth in Spanish. The literal translation would be “shut your ass” but that sounds weird in English) in a really high pitched voice. Now the entire team quotes him on that almost everyday

Diana almost dropped a car on Bruce once and now she sometimes says stuff like “I should've let that car kill you” when he's doing something particularly stupid

The rest of the JL quotes it too. It is very common to hear the phrase “I wish Diana had dropped that car” in the Watchtower

Kori once blew up the kitchen because she thought something was climbing on her leg. It was her hair

The original Titans have a monthly meetup. It doesn't matter what kind of beef some of the members have with each other at the moment, they'll still meet. It's an unspoken rule

Hartley was Linda's best man in her and Wally's wedding

That's where him and Dick met

They now share embarassing stories about Wally. They're not really friends and they don't talk, like, at all, but they still send each other videos of Wally falling on his face almost everyday

Depression, just like ADHD, is something that almost all speedsters have, but it's almost unnoticeable because they always hide it, mostly using their superspeed to do it

Green lanterns and speedsters bond over starting to glow at the worst possible moments

Wally absolutely despises the smell of cinnamon

His parents's house smelled like that due to his mom being obssessed with adding cinnamon to every meal they ate, so it reminds him too much of the terrible childhood he had because of them

You can't really blame him for leaving social events when he smells cinnamon

Bruce has a video of Hal starting crying after Barry said “I think giraffes shouldn't be real” that he uses as blackmail sometimes

Barry's actual weakness is puns, he can't stop saying stuff like “I'll be there in a flash” and then winking like he knows something you don't. It's gonna get him in trouble someday

The YJ all have Tumblr accounts

Dick and Donna used to call each other the “Wonder Twins” so now Cassie and Tim are the Wonder Twins of their generation

The og Titans once followed Batman everywhere playing Superman by Eminem because he made Dick upset

Barry looks like he's about to cry all the time and he has no idea why

When the League revealed their identities to each other everyone was confused over why he was crying

It took him a while to convince everyone that that's just what his face looks like

He always looks like he's about to cry so when he's actually going to cry it's pretty obvious. And he hates it

When Wally and Barry first met and Wally started to talk about the Flash, he made a joke about how he always came to help “in a flash”. Now Barry repeats that joke all the time

Wally hates himself for being the reason why the ‘in a flash’ jokes started

When Barry makes a joke and Wally complains, Barry answers with “You were the one that created the joke, Wally. Live with the consequences”

[laurasbailey]

How do you survive the CR fandom? I try to avoid most discourse, but still the misogyny is everywhere. For me the women are the highlight of the campaign, but they get so little love. And now I am just being bitter, but it seems like people are more excited about Dorian, who had like 5 minutes of fame in the beginning, and Orym having a relationship than the 90+ episodes of emotional complexity that is Imogen and Laudna. Sorry, this is a vent post..

omg don't be sorry, you've come to the right place for this question lmao

there's definitely ways to find balance between taking a step back from the fandom but also finding likeminded people. it can take some work, but curating your following list is key and so is being liberal with the mute/block features. i'm not on stan twitter or reddit or whatever, but i do know tumblr has the best features to curate fan experience. sometimes it's as easy as finding a post with a take you really agree with and then just going through the people who liked/reblogged it.

i also think it's necessary to accept that misogyny is a sad reality of all fandom, because it's a sad reality of life, and your opinions won't change anyone's mind. i've been that person yelling into the void that people should stop ignoring, say, yasha in favour of every recurring male npc in c2 but that won't force people to pay attention to them, y'know?

there's a compromise of sorts you have to make, like if i'm going through someone's blog and there isn't a single mention of women (or it's all negative), then yeah, obviously i don't fuck with that. but i definitely follow people who love male characters that i don't really care for, but they also love the women, so you just have to use your best judgement.

sadly i think you just get used to it and do your best to make your experience comfortable. feeling bitter is definitely valid, and i think being an Enjoyer of Women in fandom is very difficult in general. it's best to just stay in your bubble, which definitely takes more work than it should to create, but as they say:

[cookingwithroxy]

You know, this is something funny and as manbun decided to hide the reblogs I have to do this here because, for fuck's sake buddy

@aesthetically0b5essed

'@cookingwithroxy incel is actually not a fancy way of saying that. Being an inso has nothing to do with your morals because it's not your choice. You're not choosing not to have sex. It's involuntary celibacy. You want to have sex. It's a way of saying that you want to have sex with other people but nobody would ever touch you, hence the involuntary part. I know incels have a lot of pent up rage but you gotta find a better outlet than trolling for attention. My post was a self-deprecating joke. Anybody who follows me and knows me would have known that. Alas now I get to be entertained all weekend by silly little minds like this. Every single one of these People's tumblr pages are just as I expected. Ignorance is bliss. Just pay for sex. Everybody was using that deck so everybody is in the same boat. Get over yourself. Everyone else obviously has.'

Chuckles. Incel, as an insult, IS calling someone a loser virgin.

you are not scoring points here. For one thing, if your post is self-deprecating, you wouldn't be throwing this much effort into hiding from people that you're being this much of a toddler.

And you can't really deny that this is you using it as an insult, because, and this is the funny part here.

First, you take someone explaining the problematic elements of using a term like this so casually... and claim that means the person saying those things. Is the very thing you're throwing around casually.

And second, your... 'description' of what an incel is? Is nothing more than you describing the traits you place on anyone you're throwing it at. 'nobody would ever touch you, you're full of pent up rage!'

And as really tempting and seriously easy as it would be to throw a lot of stuff back at you, I can just post the shit you hid in the notes rather than let anyone see how secretly mad you are like this, and know you're seething over the fact that it's public.

And then, to be really honest? I'm going to block you because I have seriously better things to do today. Plans with my gf for one thing! Go away, little man.

[chngfrthwrst]

‘09 Ghoap + Reader

fem reader

a/n: cod brainrot means making a whole blog dedicated to just cod fanfics 🤞 also i’m still new to posting on tumblr so if anyone has any tips to make this better pls lmk thanks 🫶

look at the tags b4 u read ❤️

♡︎ ♡︎ ♡︎

Soap smirked down at you both, grabbing each of your chins and making sure you were both paying attention to him fully.

“Ghost. Fuck our darling girl, won’t you? Be a good boy now.” You felt a shiver run down your spine, the idea of Soap completely ignoring you and treating you like some kind of toy he could play with was doing things for you.

Ghost nods quickly and moves behind where you’re currently sitting on your knees. He softly touches your waist and gently pushes you to lean forward.

You obey his hands, moving yourself forward so you sit on all fours, presenting yourself to his prying eyes. He hums an approval before leaning forward and hugging you close to his chest.

“Good boy, Ghost. Now fuck her like you mean it.” You can feel Ghost groan against your back and his cock twitches near your cunt.

Ghost leans away from where we was holding you close to his body and takes a hand away. Before you can ask any questions or even make a sound of disappointment, you feel Soap’s boot pressing between your shoulders and you let him push your chest to the floor.

He keeps his boot pressed roughly between your shoulder blades, heavy and dirty against your soft skin. Ghost pushes into your cunt just as you try to protest your position and you moan loudly.

Soap had been teasing you both for so long and you were finally getting the reward you’d both worked so hard for.

Ghost wastes no time in rutting into you, hips snapping back to yours hard and fast. He hits all the right spots and leaves you a whimpering mess under the Captain’s boot.

“Such a good girl. You’re taking it so well, baby.” He coos, pushing his boot into your back a little harder. You clench around Ghost as he does this and you feel more than hear the resulting groan from the man behind you.

“That’s right, keep going. Don’t you want to cum for me?” Soap’s talking to both of you now, teasing you and degrading your efforts. He’s completely broken you. All you can do it beg and whine underneath them both as they use you.

“Fuck. So tight.” Ghost is mumbling behind you, groaning and panting each time he thrusts back into your cunt. You can feel him twitching more and more and you squeeze around him.

“Please fill me up, Ghost. God please it’s all I need- FUCK!” You yelp in pain as you feel a hand slap your ass, the skin tender from the previous spanking.

“Good toys don’t speak. Unless you aren’t a good girl like I thought you were?” You almost cry at the implication and you squeeze on Ghost’s cock in protest.

You do stay silent though, biting your lip to try and silence the pleas threatening to burst past your lips.

“She’s so fucking tight. Fuck. Please can I cum inside her please please.” Ghost is barely legible, begging and moaning as he fucks you like it’s the last time.

Soap digs his boot into you even further before muttering out an approval for Ghost to cum. Said man wastes no time in following his orders and stills himself deep inside you.

You whine, another denied orgasm breaking your spirit even more. Ghost mumbles unintelligibly into your back, a string of ‘thank you’s leaving his bruised lips.

“Make her cum, Ghost. Be a good boy and clean up your mess.” You can hear the smile is Soap’s voice and finally you feel his foot leave your back and instead rest next to your head.

“Now, Sergeant.” Ghost whimpers pathetically, but immediately flips you over and kisses his way to your cunt which is now covered in a variety of all of your mixed fluids.

Ghost’s fingers dance across your thighs teasingly and you groan in annoyance. He takes this as a sign to hurry up and puts his mouth to your core.

You throw your head back and make eye contact with Soap. He smiles fondly at you before squatting down so he’s closer to you.

“Does he feel good? Is he eating you out right, baby?” You nod weakly, throwing your head back a bit further when Ghost finds the perfect spot and starts attacking it relentlessly.

“So good, so good.” You blabber, grabbing a fistfull of Ghost’s hair and reaching your other hand to wrap around Soap’s boot.

“Good. You’re both so fucking perfect. You listen so well, don’t you?” You nod, completely dazed and holding onto them both for dear life.

Then Ghost is pushing his fingers into you instead of his tongue and you cum. White hot fire lashes at the edges of your vision and consumes your body as you finally get the orgasm you’ve been denied all night.

Slowly but surely, the fire flickers away and you come back to your body and you notice Soap is sitting on the ground next to you and he’s holding you close.

“You with me?” You nod, words escaping you completely. He turns to Ghost and he nods as well, probably feeling as boneless as you do right now.

You smile sweetly at him and offer a hand to him. He grabs your hand softly and leans in to cuddle with you both.

You stay like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm and enjoying the warmth of their bodies surrounding you and drowning out the rest of the world.

“We should get you two cleaned up, hm?” You feel Ghost grumble and shake his head against your chest, effectively moving your tits to a less comfortable position.

“Ghost. My boobs hurt.” You grumble back at him and he sighs, lifting himself and looking at you both.

You can almost see the hearts in his eyes.

“Good. Come on now, both of you need a bath.” Soap gently lifts you before wrapping an arm around Ghost and leads you both to the bathroom.

He sits you down on the countertop and pushes Ghost to sit on the lid of the toilet. Ghost slumps against the back of his makeshift seat and you giggle to yourself.

He closes his eyes and leans back and you stare at him, taking in the soft freckles that litter his skin and the old scars that carve into his flesh. The dingy light in the bathroom makes it hard to make out every part of his face and you long for the daylight to touch his skin again so you can admire it properly.

You were too busy staring at Ghost to notice Soap had filled the bath and finally stripped off his jacket. He had also rolled up his sleeves and you could see his arms threatening to rip his shirt to pieces.

“Come here, you!” He playfully grabs you and you giggle, wriggling in his grasp. Despite your best efforts, he keeps hold of you and delicately places you in the large bathtub.

You pout at him, still very much in subspace and not willing to let him leave you alone any time soon. He looks at you knowingly and smiles again.

“I’ll come wash you soon, let me get this lump in there with you first, though, okay?” You roll your eyes dramatically and slump against the edge of the tub. Soap smiles and turns to Ghost who is now snoring softly.

“Wake up, baby. You need a bath.” Ghost groans and picks himself up only to sit back down almost immediately. His legs shake a little and you giggle again.

“Damnit.” Ghost groans. He always hated being helped but sometimes he really needed it. Soap knew this and simply picked him up and slotted him right next to you in the tub.

You smiled and crawled over to the opposite edge, looking into Soap’s eyes.

He was always so sweet after he’d broken you to pieces.

But he always knew exactly how to put you back together.

And you always knew how to put him back together as well.

You kiss him softly and lean back, letting him do as he pleases.

Ghost lets Soap clean him as well and hums softly when you start massaging the shampoo into his hair.

“I like this.” You say quietly. But not quietly enough as both boys smile and hug you tightly.

What a way to end the night.