#holy shitballs the tags....

[canidaedreams64]

ngl im kinda considering reading mha but only for present mic and the hashtag yuri

[storyknitter]

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[thelaundrybitch]

@leosgirl82

Greetings and salutations. I bring you a little nugget of something that’s been on my noggin for a while. I haven’t had the pleasure to experiment too much with AU’s so here I bring you two segments of just that.

Rated Mature.

So please enjoy and let me know if maybe y’all want more?

It was that scar.

You hadn’t been necessarily subtle about it. You’d stared, wondered what could’ve gone wrong to have a man nearly lose an eye.

You liked making up stories of strangers, what their backstory and futures could be just on looks alone.

But when blue eyes had met your own, looked up from the local news paper, you felt as if he’d heard your mental fictions.

He was pretty.

Blue eyes, strong features and built.

Because mutants tended to be built, imposing, rough, dangerous.

But there was a softness to Blue Eyes here.

Somewhere between restarting your brain and the soft rattling of him pushing his mug towards your outstretched hand, you had finally poured a re-fill of a lemony scented tea he had ordered twenty minutes ago.

The cafe was a passion project, something you’d done on impulse when you hopped on a plane to run away from New York and its hollowness and move to Osaka.

To run away from the bad memories…

A bad guy.

“Are you alright?” Oh? He spoke English.

You nodded, dipped the kettle and refilled his mug. “Sorry, mornings aren’t really my thing.” You chuckled to lighten the mood, watched the corner of his mouth lift as he reached for the mug.

“Working in a cafe must’ve been a tough option.” His lips pressed to the ceramic, a large hand holding it as he softly blew.

The peak of a finger missing an inch to it making you squint.

Just how many scars could one individual have?

But he had looked at you again, piercing blue eyes gaging your thoughts, somehow digging into what your story was. Maybe he had made up his own.

You should’ve known, should’ve seen the tattoos peaking from the cuff of his dress shirt, the roughness to his demeanor.

You should’ve sensed the danger.

________

You ran from danger back in New York only to somehow find yourself enchanted by something far worse.

Because Leonardo (he had introduced himself at long last) screamed dangerous.

But he kept coming back to the cafe, each day he stayed just a little bit longer, his small talk became more of a lighthearted interrogation.

And those damn eyes of his never seemed to not follow you around the counter as you prepared and brewed for the patrons of the morning. His eyes were watchful, something kind of protective to them. Whenever the bell for the door ran he’d always cast a careful backwards glance.

Anticipating something?

He seemed to travel on the edge of a knife, waiting for the proverbial shoe to drop.

And you wanted to ignore the obvious, the setting, the place, the fresh cuts and bruises on his hands. You wanted the fantasy to remain just that.

Because deep down you knew that he ran in that lifestyle.

Yakuza.

It rang like an alarm in your brain, warning sirens to not get involved, to not find yourself in the fire pit.

One afternoon as he remained during your closing, he had stood up and adjusted the cuff of his suit.

“Do you wanna have dinner with me tonight?”

It was a simple question, a razors edge to it, the anticipation mixing with water running from the sink. You had stopped, hand sopping wet from washing mugs and glasses.

You stared at him, watching those calculating eyes of his gage your reaction.

That little voice told you to say no, desperately to just let this be a fleeting thing. Let Leonardo be a fantasy, don’t jump into that dark ocean and let the current sweep you away.

“Yes…I’d like that.”

‘These violent delights…’

It felt more like a light version of Wack-a-Mole. Gently but intentionally shoving all these screaming adolescents and young adults away from the object of their desire.

You waved and smiled, signed what you could when several high glossy portraits of yourself were shoved into your eyesight. A massive arm wrapped around your shoulders and tugged you into hard scales and you caught the warning glare Raph had shot to a handsy guy.

‘Just get her to the hotel entrance’ That was all Raph was thinking, if he could haul ass with you through this sea of screaming fans in the next sixty seconds he’d pat himself on the shell.

So he held you closer, pushed through and as gently and professionally as he could pushed through the doable doors.

Hotel security could keep everyone at bay, your poor assistance somehow alive and inside as well moved quickly to the front desk to check you in.

“Never get tired of that shit?” he asked you with a smirk, making sure to keep your body covered by his much larger form.

“Just part of the job description, some of them can be endearing.” You adjusted your sunglasses, shooting a thanks to your assistant when they jogged back towards you with a room card.

“Y/N you have an interview tomorrow at 9am so there’s a 7am wake up call for hair and makeup to get up to your room. After that it’s the photo shoot at noon and finally the concert at MSG, I’ll be here early to get everything started.” They were an efficient assistant sometimes doubling more like a parent.

“She got time to sleep somewhere in there peepsqueak?” Raph was already escorting you towards the elevator. Your assistant rolled their eyes.

“Be nice Raphie, they keep the order, I just do the fun stuff.” You waved back as you climbed into the elevator with Raph.

In the quiet steel and glass you took a minute to sigh and stretch. While it was fun it could be pretty exhausting running around from show to show. You felt your phone vibrate, the work one, and allowed yourself the luxury of not dealing with it. Closing your eyes briefly you centered yourself.

“Ya good?” Raph’s voice, the soft one he only reserved for you, mixed with the ping of each floor.

“A little stiff, but I’m alright. What about you?” You watched Raph huff a little laugh, incredulous to assume that this was enough to even remotely tire him out. When the doors open he stepped out first to make sure the halls were empty before alerting you to follow suit.

“You know you can chill out now, clock out technically.” You opened the door to your latest hotel suit and watched Raph go in and do his usual perimeter walk.

One time some obsessed fan had hidden in the suit you had stayed in, and while it hadn’t been a violent situation it had spooked you and angered Raph enough to always check the room before letting you settle in.

“Looks clear, although C- for not having those chocolates on the bed.” Man he kinda wanted something sweet.

He smiled at your laugh watching you plop on the chase lounge near the window.

He could feel his own phone, not the work one, vibrate in the pocket of his jeans.

“Do you want to stay?” Came your voice, light and floaty like an inviting drink.

Raph knew this wasn’t exactly right, but it hadn’t been right the last fourteen hotels ago.

You turned to study him, a flirtatious smile spreading across your beautiful lips.

Those lips had been around his dick last night on the limo ride to some after party.

Something in the jittery electric feel of his legs, urging him to move, to put an end to this not so professional relationship.

“Raphie?” You asked, jacket coming off, heels being kicked off, skin inviting him.

He ran the back of his palm across his mouth, caught the faint scent of you from just this morning (where he had fingered you in the shower of the last hotel).

“Yeah, I’ll stay.”

He swallowed the nerves, swallowed it and let it simmer in the pit of his stomach.

[merriclo]

jurassic park is seriously such a good book. on a completely unrelated note id like to involve more gore in my writing.

[cha-melodius]

@welcometololaland requested this with 4 question marks so I officially can't refuse, and also tagged by @kiwiana-writes, @iboatedhere, and @three-drink-amy, thanks to all of you! Have a particularly juicy morsel:

Nora raises her hand and starts ticking off her fingers. “You haven’t stopped smiling since I came in. You’re practically bouncing around the shop while you clean up. And you were fucking whistling.” “I was not,” Alex protests automatically, even though now that he thinks back on it he might have been. Whatever, he had a song stuck in his head. “It was just a good day. We had a big sale.” “Were they hot?” she presses, leaning forward now. Alex bites his lip and absolutely fails to not conjure up Henry’s features in his mind’s eye. “I mean, like, objectively yeah, I guess.” “You guess.” Nora straightens up and turns back to the computer. “I’m looking up their credit card info.” “Nora, you can’t—” he says, even though she absolutely can. He’s sure she’s got the sale pulled up before he can think about stopping her. “Percy Okonjo?” she reads off a moment later, her eyes going wide in shock. “Like, that Okonjo?” “Yeah,” Alex confirms. “Holy shitballs. Is this number real?” “Of course it is,” Alex huffs. “They mostly weren’t his. He paid for his friend.” Nora’s wicked grin comes back in force. “His friend, huh?” she says slyly, leaning over the counter again. “Did she flirt with you? Is that what’s got you all hot and bothered?” Something weird twists in Alex’s stomach. He should just tell her, right? That Pez’s friend was a guy. It’s not a big deal. He was objectively good-looking. And he did flirt with Alex. And maybe Alex flirted back. It was just fun. It doesn’t— it doesn’t mean anything. “I really don’t know what you’re talking about,” he mutters instead, avoiding her gaze. “I’ve gotta… do something. In the back.”

Tagging @cricketnationrise, @clottedcreamfudge, @stutteringpeach, @indomitable-love, @orchidscript, @14carrotghoul, @sherryvalli, @myheartalivewrites, @celaestis1, @lilythesilly, @tintagel-or-cockleshells, @xthelastknownsurvivorx, @leaves-of-laurelin, @everwitch-magiks, @loki-is-my-kink-awakening, @mirilyawrites, @dewdropreader, @nicijones, @celeritas2997, @rmd-writes

Also tagging @wolfpup026 and @natendo-art if you want to share any art WIPs!

[withlovefromsimtown]

Hey New Folks!

I think someone must have reblogged or tagged me in something that someone found interesting because holy shitballs there's an amount of ya'll the past few days.

I'm not the type of person who gets upset about people going through & liking/reblogging everything on my Tumblr, & I have like a decade of content out here to pick through, so >Check Out My Pinned Post Of Semi-Organized Content Tags/Links (this is a link)< if you like what you see, & ya'll go wild.

Keep it respectful in comments/tags & thanks for enjoying the things I do!

[gotmyass2marz]

there eye am :3

@you4-l0cal-1d10t-ar1 @birdeatspice @idiot-mage-cloudie and whoever else (no pressure!!)

UMM IM BORED SO LETS ATTEMPT TO START A PICREW CHAIN😋😋

https://picrew.me/en/image_maker/1349935

LINK!!

Step two🤧 tagging a fuck load of my mutuals 😋

(NO PRESSURE!!!)

@lesbianjakewheeler @korakii-i @futurebadcomedian @twyz @mssanswich @servogender @uncertaininnit @riverisreallydumb @newmsies @lastplacepunishments @theatregorl @angry-inch @oliviaaaah @imsofansie @spacestamps @comicsanslover

and anybody else who sees this🤧🤧 LIKE I SAID NO PRESSURE this picrew is so cute tho omfg

[yourlocalartsonist]

Holy shitballs y'all MFIP chapter 9 is actually coming out tomorrow-

I'm not kidding, it's finally FINALLY gonna be out for y'all to read tomorrow. Man was this unexpectedly tough to get through. There was so much that kept constantly happening and then my notes for the chapter got deleted and so much of it had to be re-thought and re-worked and just-

Honestly, hella worth it in the end. It's so genuinely fantastic compared to my first concept for the chapter, it def needed that rewrite

Not to mention I had to get a new team to help me work on it. They did so absolutely fantastically man, MFIP's never had such a polished chapter before. Words cannot express my appreciation for their hard work and effort and genuine passion they poured into helping me with my dumbass turtle fic. These folks went above and beyond man. I already credited them on the master list and they'll be credited on the chapter too but just gotta give an extra special thank you to them all again so I'll be tagging em at the end of this post

But yea! I'm beyond grateful for all of you sticking by and giving so much love to my story. I hope the next few chapters will be FUCKING SHORTER but I've learned my lesson to not make any promises🧍‍♀️

Tagging the team!: @yosajaeofficial @urlocalmj @chaoticspeedrun @ramblehour @goldanrabbit and misfortun3_ismyname (TikTok)

—

ROTTMNT: Moths Fly In Packs

[greeneyezblackheart]

There’s gotta be a picture if Izzy’s dick out there somewhere right caise I need pictures or visual descriptions of what it’s like !!

I can help you with that. Look closely. You can’t see the whole thing, but you can see part of the head. I would like to see a full-on pic of this man’s cock, bcs as I’m sure you’ve heard, he’s supposed to be fucking HUGE. This is probably as close as we’re gonna get, though. Unless you count the various dick print/bulge photos out there. 😮‍💨

Mary mother of fuck, he’s hot. 🥵🥵🥵🤤🤤🤤

[searchingforacircuitbreaker]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Band of Brothers Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Lewis Nixon/Richard Winters Characters: Lewis Nixon, Richard Winters Additional Tags: Pre-Canon, Music, Nonverbal Communication, First Time, First Kiss, Semi-Public Sex Summary:

1942. Dick, Nix, a jukebox. In the early days before they learn to read each other's mind, they find a way to communicate that doesn't require talking.

[i-guess-im-a-fanfic-writer-now]

Markiplier x Reader

TRIGGER WARNING: mentions of parental abuse and abuse from family in general (physical, sexual, emotional), self harm (cutting), trauma stuff. If you’ll be triggered by reading this, don’t read it, or at the very least be really careful. Skip the self harm parts if you need to. Take care of yourself, eh?

I wrote this for myself because I needed this shit, and this is my first time ever writing a fanfic. Tell me if there’s stuff I can do better when writing?

Here we go

The last month had been going relatively well. You were finally living away from your relatives, and had moved in with your best friend, Mark. He was recording videos every day, editing them for hours, and you stayed out of his way when he was busy, not wanting to bother anyone, even though you logically knew that he wouldn’t be annoyed. Growing up in a place where everything you did and said was a problem, it made an impact.

But flashbacks quickly made their way back into your life, becoming more realistic every time, leaving you shaking and sobbing on the ground, curled up into a ball. 

After some days with particularly rough flashbacks, you couldn’t function properly, you could barely speak, even. And sometimes dealing with the pain of the memory was so hard that you couldn’t resist hurting yourself.

Today was one of these days.

You made lines in your skin, again and again, and, a few minutes after, reached for something to clean up the blood, wincing as the damp fabric touched your bloodied arm. You stared at your scars from all the other times, scratching at the scabs, and hid the blade you had used.

Footsteps were coming close to the door of your room. “Must be Mark”, you thought, quickly pulling your sleeve down as your heart raced from fear that he would find out. He couldn’t find out. What if he’d end up hating you because of it? What if he got mad? You couldn’t risk getting kicked out by him. 

Seconds later, you heard a knock on your door.

“Yes?”, you said. 

The door opened, and Mark walked into the room, with his goofy smile and messy hair. 

“What’s up, (y/n)?”

“Not much, just reading”, you nodded at the open book on your table and smiles slightly at Mark. 

“You okay?”

He tilted his head, seeming suddenly worried. Maybe it was the smile. “Crap”, you thought, “I hope I didn’t ruin anything. My smile needs to look more real.”

“Yup!”, you replied, trying your very best to sound cheerful, “What about you?”

“I’m great!!! Wanna watch (your favourite movie) with me? I don’t really have much to do at the moment! Might as well hang out, if you want to.” The worry had faded from his face and was replaced with joy. 

You smiled at the mention of your favourite movie, and nodded. “Sure, why not? Let’s watch it for the ninth time!” Not exaggerating. 

You both went to the living room, Mark grabbing a pack of popcorn on the way through the kitchen, and sat down into the extremely comfy couch. Mark logged in to Netflix, searched the movie, and immediately put it on play. You moved closer to Mark,  trying not to let him notice it, but he grinned at you and put his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer. You flinched away from his arm at first, but hesitantly let him do it after a few seconds, realizing he wasn’t going to hurt you. He still seemed concerned because of the flinch. 

“Popcorn?”, he asked you, tilting the pack at you. You took a bit of it and curled closer to him, getting a bit more comfortable being right beside him. 

A few hours later, you finished watching the movie and were both starting to get awfully tired. You decided to get some sleep. Before you even got off the couch, you heard a sudden loud noise, your eyes widened and you flinched hard, covering your ears with your hands and starting to shake. Mark didn’t react to the noise, but he looked at you and gently touched your arm. He then took your hands just as gently, whispering “It’s okay” a few times. You were still shaking when he quietly asked you what was wrong. 

“It’s.. it’s nothing... I’m, I’m okay...”, you said, trying to stop shaking and panicking. 

“(Y/n), that’s not nothing. Please tell me. I’m here for you, alright? You keep flinching all the time. Did something happen?”

After a few moments, you nodded slowly, refusing to look into his eyes. 

“Who hurt you? Who did this? It’ll be alright, (y/n), I promise.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, your hands still in his, and then started talking.

“My.. my mother... and almost everyone else in the family.. they kept hurting me, screaming at me.. telling me things...”

“They’re assholes. I’m so sorry you went through that. I wish I could’ve helped you. Do you want to tell me what they told you?”

“They kept saying that I’m a worthless, stupid bitch, that I can’t ever do anything right.. a-and they... they hit me, and kept kissing me when I didn’t wanna be touched.. my mother, she... she screamed at me even when she found out I.. when she found out....” 

You kind of shut down, terrified of what would happen if Mark found out about your self harm. Noticing that you were starting to rock back and forth, Mark tried to calm you down. 

“(Y/n), it’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t hurt you or be mad at you, I promise.”

You waited a few minutes and took one of your hands out of his. You carefully pulled your sleeve up a bit, letting Mark see the cuts and scars on your arm. You were too scared to look him in the eye, but you mustered up the courage to look at his face. He looked sad, scared, hurt, but not angry.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to”. You stared at the floor. 

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. You can always talk to me. You’re my best friend, and I’m here for you. None of it was your fault.” He seemed a bit lost, as if he didn’t really know what to do, how to help. 

You nodded and curled as close as you could. You shut your eyes as Mark gently rubbed your back and told you things will be okay someday, and that he’d make sure of it. 

[because-imma-lady-assface]

.

[effelants]

The Tag Meme Compilation (TM)

Relationship status: In a relationship

Favourite colour: Pink. <3

Lipstick or chapstick: Lipstick!

Last song listened to: ... the OC theme song. Because I am watching the OC.

Last movie 👀: I watched Moana yesterday! I absolutely love the music in it. <3 Top 3 📺 shows: This really varies depending on what I’m watching at the moment. Right now, it’s Futurama, Outlander and Black Mirror, probably. Or Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency. Hmmm.

Top 3 characters: Cullen (LE GASP!). Veralidaine Sarrasri. Maleficent. Not necessarily the top three, but a selection from my favorites.

Top 3 bands: Hmmm... Anberlin, Ultra Bra, ABBA? Again, not necessarily the top three, but a selection of three from my list of favorites.

📚 I’m reading: My criminal law textbook. Or I should be. But I’m currently not. Instead, I’m watching the OC.

Rules: Tag 10 followers you’d like to get to know better.

Name: Liisa

Nickname: I don’t have a very widely used nickname, but I do get called a variety of things: El, Liis, Laiza, Liza, Lizzle, Liz... Generally, people just call me Liisa.

Gender: Female

Star sign: Aquarius

Height: 161cmish

Sexuality: Painfully bisexual

Hogwarts house: Slytherin. I always used to fancy myself a Ravenclaw, but I have come to the realization I just have to accept that I am Slytherin through and through and deal with it. Huh. Is this what becoming an adult feels like?

Average hours of sleep: Too few. Or too many. So, actually, when you average it out, I probably sleep a healthy 8 nights on average!

Dog or Cat person: Dog person, but I currently have two kitties that I absolutely adore. I love cats too.

Blankets you sleep with: I have a really heavy, wonderful down blanket my boyfriend got me for my birthday a few years ago. I absolutely adore it. It’s so soft and fluffy and warm.

Dream Trip: New Zealand! <3

When you made your blog: 2013.

Followers: Sooooome. Not a lot, but soooome.

Why you made a Tumblr: Once upon a time, poor Effe fell in love with fictional characters. She never fell out of love with them again.

Reasons for your URL: I love Winnie the Pooh but the username “heffalumps” is taken in a lot of places (inc. tumblr), and also we call my horse Peetu “Effelant” because he’s kind of like a very silly elephant. He’s very large and goofy. I love him.

Nicknames: For my username? Effe, Effie, Effy, Ef, Effers, Effs, E, Lants, Pants... There’s a lot of them. And they are all fine by me. Gender: Female, as stated Star sign: Aquarius, as stated Height: 161cm, as stated Time: 18:48 Birthday: February 11th! Favorite bands: I have a lot. Ultra Bra, ABBA, Avenged Sevenfold, Anberlin, Maroon 5, Muse, Jack’s Mannequin… there’s a lot more, too.

Favorite solo artist(s): Caro Emerald, Elvis Presley, Bing Crosby, Louis Armstrong, Edith Piaf, Parov Stelar, Frank Sinatra… there’s a lot here, too. Song stuck in my head: SEAGULLS STOP IT NOW Last movie I watched: Moana! <3 When did I create my blog: 2013 What do I post: Dragon Age, The Elder Scrolls, Overwatch, Outlander, Star Wars, Lord of the Rings, and the occasional Black Mirror, Stranger Things, Black Sails, Guild Wars 2, Flight Rising, etc, etc, etc. I post whatever strikes my fancy at the moment. I like a lot of things. A lot of things. Cullen. I like Cullen. I post a lot of Cullen. Last thing I googled: I googled “WP29 guidelines DPIA” today at work. Do I have other blogs: A few inactive ones. Do I get asks?: A pleasing amount! Why did I choose my URL: As stated - love for my horse and Winnie the Pooh. <3 Following blogs: 530ish! Followers: A nice amount of lovely people. <3 Favourite colours: PINK! Average hours of sleep: Going on my math from the above tag meme ^, I’d say an average of eight hours or so over the course of a week. However, this average comes from sleeping 4h some nights and then consequently crashing for about 12h other nights. Lucky numbers: I don’t really have one, I’m afraid. What am I wearing: A pink hoodie and red sweats. I am literally the Most Stylish Sick Person (TM). How many blankets do I sleep with: Usually just one! But it’s a big and floofy and thick one. Dream job: I am going to be boring - IT lawyer, which is conveniently what I’m currently studying to become. Dream trip: New Zealand, as stated. <3 Favourite food: SUSHI! Nationality: Finnish af. Favourite song right now: Inolvidable by Tito Rodriguez. <3

Thanks so much for the tags, guys! You’re all brilliant. <3

[angerissue]

Yeah, so I posted this on my personal blog already and I'm posting it here too. Recent events consisting of health issues and harassment, along with my recollections of what other people have been through lately on this website, have made me rethink my priorities. I'm going to be stepping back from tumblr.

I'll move my fics to AO3. I'm still deciding what to do about my collaborative writing and all the threads and headcanons.

Honestly, leaving has been on my mind for a while. But the absolute bullshit behaviour I've seen demonstrated towards me, and so many other people, has made me seriously question why I'm still here. I've never posted anything controversial. I've never intentionally tried to hurt people, or spread bad ideologies. I'm a conscientious person of what I think is good moral fiber. But holy fucking shitballs, what has happened to this website? The last few years on this site have been atrocious with all the harassment, the dogpiling, and the other shit where people derive, frankly, a scary amount of joy and amusement from attacking others like it's some kind of entertainment.

People have discovered that if you want attention here, you can do it quickly by fabricating "outrage porn" and dragging someone through the mud. People will believe it without hesitation, because they are so angry about what they are being told, they don't stop to think. People really eat up the "us versus them" mentality, especially when it allows them to feel like a part of a group, and when it gives them a purpose in harassing and/or getting rid of people who are designed to not be in that group. It's especially insidious because all of this harassment seems to be rationalized and justified by the groups participating in them. It's all in the name of this-or-that, it's just moral crusades, just socially-acceptable bullying and/or death wishes with a fresh coat of paint to appeal to a younger crowd. Because it really does seem like a vast majority of the people doing this stuff are in their early twenties or in their teens.

I really do understand why other people have left this website - it is such a buzzkill to feel like you're swimming in a shark tank. I have no desire left to share my work in a place like this. Why make content for a website where its users are so quick to steamroll others, for a quick laugh, no matter how vanilla the content? Why put in the effort to get suspicion; why put in the effort when it feels like I'm just rewarding a Bad Thing, at least to a sizable extent?

Like, I've been posting in the Bruce Banner tag since The Avengers came out. I've been here since many of those popular ship tags were literally empty. And despite the positive reception and complete lack of criticism, despite the masses of people who liked my content, I'm completely unmotivated to post things there now. Last year, there was an isolated incident with fanpols and moral panic people, where one person went out of their way to post some untagged ship hate in the Bruce Banner tag, and after I told them to tag it, they spent three hours scouring my blog for ways to retaliate (and it seems they still haven't blocked me). It was a textbook case of, "lol, let's point and laugh and tell someone they're better off dead because they write a character yet don't incorporate my own headcanons, let's call them [a dozen different types of bigot without due cause]." Predictably, none of their followers reached out and actually inquired about what they saw in the person's smear campaign (all the "damning" screenshots they posted of my blog were headcanons for Bruce Banner, none of which were any indication of personal views and were easily chalked up to either bad wording, ignorance, or literally just nothing because they were reaching farther than Elastigirl to find shit, and upon later inspection, it appeared they even shared many of the same personal headcanons they had harassed me for, which... Eugh). Nobody asked for clarification. They were told what to feel, which was outraged and vitriolic, and they clamoured. Guess what happened when I woke up, saw all this, and blocked everyone because I wasn't having that shit? "Lmaoo they must have blocked me because of my gay ships lmao what a homophobe".

I just. What.

How are people okay with saying this kind of stuff. Like, my brother in christ, you were blocked because you were a twatwaffle, a participant in an outrage porn dogpile. I have dozens of Bruce Banner versions in my headworld, and a shit ton of headcanons of both Bruce and other characters that run the entire gamut of sexuality and orientation; I'm literally a trans person with gay ships; the first ship I ever made fanart of was Cherik, for crying out loud, and two of my favourite ships have always been BrucexLoki and BrucexTony. You are not as accurate as you think you are. Not at all. Get off your high horse before you fall off, it's made of playing cards.

Oh, but I guess it's "funny". I guess it's okay to throw around loaded terms in that case.

Some of this stuff genuinely was funny to me. Because this person had literally scoured my entire blog (and when I'm saying "entire", I mean they went through every page, every post, every single bullet point in my extended reading portal, and there's a load of content in there, folks, and all their visits were recorded in my statcounter so it was pretty easy to see they had spent three hours on there looking for "bad stuff"), found one line in a headcanon that said (in keeping with official canon) this specific Bruce tends to be most attracted to people of the same ethnicity... And they sent me an ask saying, I kid you not: "does Bruce hate black people".

What even. How does this compute. The ask couldn't even offend me if it tried at this point, it was hysterical because of the total quantum leap in logic. I had literally never posted anything else, not a single other line, about ethnicity in any sense, nor would I ever insinuate what they were claiming. It was just a line I threw in because, like most lines, it's nice to paint a more complete picture, and if you've ever seen my content and how outrageously exhaustive it can get, I love painting.

It was less funny when they used this single throwaway line to call me a racist.

But seriously - the entire harassment campaign was based around stupid shit like that, and funnily, it was all tacked onto the original ship hate post this person had originally posted, which was pretty much bait for attention in the first place. Some of the screencaps they took even had contents that directly contradicted what they were even trying to roast me over.

In the end, once they realized I'd blocked them, they dared me to, just about verbatim, "come back and defend this boring white bread man you created".

Sure. Boring. So boring they needed to read all my content for hours (which showed a huge inability to curate their content consumption like an adult), and so boring they stalked my blog for months after the fact and made fun of the fact I went to the ER for an unrelated health issue. It's just ridiculous, especially because if all this criticism about my headcanons had actually come from a place of reparation and not using me as entertainment fodder; if someone had actually talked to me about something that concerned them, I would have completely cooperated and taken the advice. Because I really don't want to be a dick on the internet, I actively look for edification, and I really do want as best as I can.

But I digress.

It's strange, because despite what happened with these clowns, it's not that I'm afraid to be here. I haven't been intimidated into keeping quiet. Rather, I simply have zero motivation to be here or contribute. And really, I'm just deeply disappointed in all the disgusting actions I've seen in this fandom and elsewhere on tumblr, the brazenness of it these last few years. I don't know what happened, but it was never this bad. And people don't deserve it. I've seen a lot worse than what I've received, and let me tell you. It is horrible. Content creators don't deserve to feel like they're playing Russian fucking roulette every time they post some new content, or be fearful that the wrong person will see their work and make a playdate out of harassing them for literally no reason. And on top of that, nope, tumblr just enables this bullshit and doesn't do a thing.

There have been three cases in the last, what, three years, where people I know were dragged severely for doing absolutely nothing wrong. For making boundaries known, for writing certain things, for not responding within a certain time frame. In all but one case, it was always the same ending; they left.

Participation in fandom should not be this stressful for anyone. It really makes me miss the 2012-2015 era, because while it certainly wasn't perfect back then, it was a lot better than nowadays, with all the renewed moral panic shit that is doing nothing of value. It's just carpet-bombing the userbase, and disincentivizing people to make new things, any new things. If there isn't something obvious for the impassioned bully to hit, or something they can manipulate, they'll just make shit up on the spot. Want to guess how many people of good character have been ousted from the Marvel fandom alone since, say, even 2018? Well, I don't have the numbers, but I'm sure they're substantial.

It just kind of sucks, because I've written this version of Bruce here for over twelve years. And seriously, I have never seen anyone take issue with my headcanons until the harassment last year. I'm pretty careful about what I write, so naturally with the harassment aside, I did review all the headcanons I had written, but after that, and after getting the opinions of a few trusted friends (which I am so grateful for), there wasn't... Anything to fix. They were just headcanons. Not only was this harassment limited to the last year or two, but almost all of the harassment my friends have received has been within the last couple of years, too. Like, alarm bells should be going off there, because wow. Especially when I also consider how much harassment has happened to people outside of my friend group. Especially when I consider how commonplace it has become to throw around shit like "kys" or "I wish you died in the ER" to people you don't like. Especially because it seems like it's just getting worse and worse. I'm seeing this kind of shit in casual posts now, not even directed to anyone. "Go kill yourself". I can open ten carrds, and five of them will have "swallow a knife :) :)" or something in them.

Is it a wonder there are so few content creators here now? Especially fandom olds?

So yeah. I'm out.

If you're a genuinely good person who doesn't make a pastime out of harassing people, and if you ever recall seeing my stuff in the tag and enjoying it, be it my gifsets, my headcanons, or my fics, thank you for that.

If anyone here wants my AO3 or discord, send me a message.

Toodles.

[aphrodite-made-me-write-it]

12 Days of Holiday Fics

Day One: How to Win Natasha Romanoff (With Eggnog)

(A/N) OMG! So, my silence has been for a reason. I really like the holiday season, so I’ve been writing fics! Small ones, really. Like 2 pages long, but they’re cute and I thought it would be fun to post one for every day until December 24! Upon Christmas, I’ll be posting a present :) This ‘series’ is just a buncha lil oneshots with my fav marvel ladies idk but one of them is a pre-gift! Some are smut, most aren’t, they’ll be tagged appropriately. Anyway, I love eggnog, here’s a fic about how much I love eggnog and hot women.

(A/N P2) also holy fucking shitballs yall i’m over 1000 followers! that’s nuts. thanks for gifting me with your eyes and your beautiful minds! 

Rating: G (General Audience, open for all!)

Warnings: Alcohol Consumption; Nat being a lil shit; R just wants her crush to like her; Brief mention of the death of a relative; Brief mention of criminal activity; Light Plot; Light Fluff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Synopsis: You take a mission during the holidays with the one Avenger that doesn’t seem to like you very much: Natasha Romanoff. What happens next is your plan to get her to not hate you.

| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 |

Natasha isn’t a holiday person. At least, not proudly. She’s had too many bad ones in her life, and while she tries to put herself in that festive mood, nothing quite suits her the way that sitting in front of a fireplace with a glass of eggnog does. This is her ideal holiday tradition, no matter how many parties the Avengers drag her to.

This year, unfortunately, she can’t even be forced into an ugly sweater party. The mission was very last-minute, and since she’s basically always on call, Natasha was one of two poor souls condemned to suffer this season. Extra unfortunately, the person accompanying her was you. 

You’re not sure what you did to Natasha to make her dislike you. You were cocky, sure, but you weren’t nearly as bad as Tony. You might not always follow her orders, but sometimes you had a golden opportunity, so why should you hesitate? You’re not even the type to worry this much about not being liked but there’s something extremely nagging about not being liked by Natasha.

She’s just so smart and cool and pretty- and, fine, maybe you’ve got a teeny tiny crush on her. How could you not? Who doesn’t?

But she, apparently, hates your guts.

You don’t celebrate the holidays as often as you used to as a kid. You just don’t have time for them, but you do try to visit your family around this time of year. You mostly accepted the mission because your grandmother passed recently and it just doesn’t feel right without her. You don’t deal well with grief, and you don’t want to be a bummer. 

So the mission was meant to be a distraction. Something to pass the time.

You’re nearly at your breaking point day four of your little stakeout. You moved into the property across from some alien posing as a human to run a rather sizeable crime ring. Smuggling, trafficking, drugs, domestic terrorism - you name it, this scumbag has done it. His house is unimposing, complete with a ditzy blonde as his ‘wife’ - no record of such marriage exists - and a white picket fence. It’s weird.

You and Natasha are also pretending to be married. Got the fat diamond rings on your fingers to prove it, too. (Tony prefers authenticity.) She’s a damn good actress, too, because the way she looks at you when you’re out and about is enough to make you forget this is all an act. (Or maybe you’re just letting your own stupid feelings get in the way of perceiving hers.)

Maybe it’s because she’s been too quiet around the house and too touchy out in public. You’re just gonna go nuts if you don’t do something nice for her, maybe get her to warm up to you a little bit. So, you ask the only person you can think of asking for advice.

“She hates surprises.” Is the first thing Clint tells you.

Bypassing this warning, you ask him what she likes to do during the holiday season.

“She likes eggnog,” he doesn’t hide his disgust in his voice. “And sitting around a fireplace.” 

Perfect.

You wait until she goes out for groceries to commence your plan. You slip out to buy eggnog as fast as you possibly can, turning on one of those cheesy fireplace footage shows on a random streaming service. And you wait. And you wait. And wait.

It’s nerve-wracking.

What if she hates it?

What if this backfires, and she ends up hating you more?

The keys in the lock make your hair stand on end. 

Natasha nudges open the door. You quickly pour a glass of eggnog over ice as she steps into the living room. She calls out your name in confusion, eyeing the fireplace on the TV as she locks the door again.

You join her with two glasses in your hands. You freeze in the doorway of the kitchen when she looks at you. “Um- it’s, uh, y’know… the season, and all.”

She stares at you in silence for far too long. You can’t read her expression, but the longer she looks at you the more heated your body feels and the less confident you become in this sudden stroke of genius. Finally, she approaches you, and you realize there’s something shining in her eyes. Was she going to cry?

“Thank you,” she murmurs, voice softer than you’ve ever heard it within these walls. 

“It’s our first holiday season together as a married couple, isn’t it?” You attempt to joke as she takes one of the offered glasses.

“Shame there’s no mistletoe,” her comment stuns you into silence as she sips her eggnog with a small smile tugging at her lips.

“We could pretend?” you suggest, voice at least an octave higher than usual. 

One of Natasha’s eyebrows arches. “Is that your way of saying you want to kiss me?”

Your blush worsens. “N-no! Don’t be ridiculous.”

Another sip, and a look of guilt crosses her face. “You really didn’t have to do all this for me. I haven’t exactly been warm and cozy with you.”

You wave your hand in the air absently. “It’s fine, Nat. Really.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s not fair to you.” She turns to look over her shoulder, out the front window that faces your less-than-neighborly neighbors. When she faces you again, she sighs. “I’m not good at this whole apologizing thing.”

“So let’s skip to the kiss and make up part?” You joke, having already forgotten the mistletoe comment.

Natasha, however, has not. She smirks, suddenly seeming very predatory. Your face is feeling warm again. “So this really was all a ploy to get me to kiss you.”

“We kiss all the time! We’re married, remember?” You point to your ring finger. “Why would I-”

She cuts you off by pressing her lips to yours. By now, you’ve kissed her at least a dozen times since you started your stakeout and you’re never prepared for just how damn good she is at it. Or maybe Natasha just has that way of making your brain turn completely and utterly to mush.

When she pulls away, she clinks her glass against yours again with a wink.

“Happy holidays, (Y/L/N).”

This woman is going to be the death of you.

(Not that you’re complaining.)

~ Gen Tag List! ~

@nobody13​ @fireflyglass @swords-are-cool​ @artapdarkstr @pasta-bandit​ @multi-images​ @women-am-i-right​ @fanboy7794​ @simplysimping999​ 

~Natasha Tag List! ~

@blackxwidowsxwife​ @angelwolf-20258

// To be tagged, just let me know if you wanna be a general tag, tagged for a character, or tagged for a fic! //

[babyboibucky]

The Match

Pairing: CEO!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You come across your boss’ Tinder profile.

Word Count: 1,446

Warnings: HMMMM sexual tension 😏

A/N: I wrote this in a whirl and tried to format it through the app last night and it SUCKS so I’m posting this just now. Anyway, there will definitely be a smutty part two to this lmfao ya know it

Edit: PART 2 IS UP!!!

The Match Masterlist || MAIN MASTERLIST

Saturday night and you’re on your bed, wine-drunk and all as you mindlessly swiped through Tinder. You start to frown when none of the guys impressed you enough to swipe right. Their bios were all the same, revolving around their egos only to end up with the good ol’ “DTF” line.

Bored and disappointed, you almost exited the app until a very, very familiar face appeared on your screen.

“Holy shitballs, it’s our boss.” You sat up immediately, bringing your phone to your face for a close inspection.

Indeed, it was your boss James Barnes but he was using “Bucky” as his profile name. You wondered whether it was his real account or a poser one. But then you remembered his closest colleagues calling him that.

You snorted as you checked out his profile. He didn’t have a bio but had a couple of photos uploaded. And oh wow, is that a shirtless mirror photo?

You rarely worked closely with your boss but goddamn, sometimes you wished you did because he was a hot piece of ass.

“Should I swipe right...” you mumbled to yourself.

Would it be unprofessional to do so? But then again, you never really interacted with him that much. Just a couple of polite nods and greetings whenever you passed by him at the office. You weren’t even directly reporting to him.

That being said, you were quite sure that he wouldn’t swipe right on you given that you’re his employee. Of course he wouldn’t want to be the unprofessional one so being tipsy and all, you decided to take one for the team.

“Tss, what the hell.” You huffed out and swiped right.

Not even a second later, the “It’s a match!” message popped up on the screen almost immediately. You choked on your wine and dropped your phone, eyes wide and heart racing because you just matched with your fucking boss.

“Shit!” You hissed, diving onto the floor the pick your phone up.

If the message popped out as soon as you swiped right on him, then that means...

“He swiped right on me first, what the fuck!”

-

Monday came quickly and you’ve never been this restless before. You couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that you matched with your boss on Tinder. Neither of you messaged the other over the weekend but now that you were headed to work, you honestly didn’t know what to expect.

You debated whether to call in sick or maybe, pretend that you died? Pack your bags and perhaps fly to a different country and start anew? You were overacting but matching with your boss on a dating app known for hook-ups should be a valid reason to justify your thoughts.

Maybe James didn’t recognize you that’s why he swiped right. That was possible since you and him didn’t really work together. It’d be better if he swiped right by accident, his phone probably slipped from his hands. He probably doesn’t even know he matched with you, yeah, you decided to settle on that conclusion.

Taking a deep breath in, you fixed your hair before stepping out of your car. Mondays were meant for meetings so he probably wouldn’t be around the office anyway. You rushed over to the elevator and let out a sigh of relief when you didn’t have to share it with anyone.

That was until someone managed to slip a foot in between the doors, catching up to you before the elevators slammed shut.

“Oh.”

Well, well, well if it isn’t James “Bucky” Barnes. Out of all the people you had to share an elevator with, it just had to be him! And judging by how his eyes widened at the sight of you, the Tinder incident wasn’t simply an accident.

“Good morning.” He greeted, clearing his throat as he stood beside you.

James’ scent wafted in the air as soon as the doors slid close and he smelled divine. He smelled like a man, a man man and it almost made your eyes roll. You greeted him back with a soft voice, fighting so hard not to look at him because as always, he looked pretty damn good.

He was restless beside you, adjusting his suit and then his tie. You could see him through your peripheral vision, he kept on fixing his hair as well. Did he get a haircut? It was shorter than before, not that you were paying way too much attention to him.

Meanwhile, you too were fidgeting with your shoulder bag, picking at the leather and praying for this torture to be over before you could even lose control and slam your lips against his.

“How was your weekend?” James asked, glancing at you.

This was probably the longest conversation you had with your boss. You weren’t even sure which was more awkward, striking a conversation after the match or simply remaining quiet for the entire ride up.

“Um, it was good. Yours?” You asked, stammering a little as you stole a quick glance at him.

James nodded, “Good too. Interesting actually.”

Fuck! He knows, he so knows about the match.

You would have preferred complete silence over the elevator music echoing in the air while the both of you were obviously feeling the tension. Was the elevator really this slow?! And when did it get this hot?!

You started fanning yourself when you started to sweat from the awkwardness of it all. Bucky too could obviously feel it, the tension and the elephant in the room waiting to be acknowledged. He loosened his tie all of a sudden, popping the top buttons of his dress shirt which quickly reminded you of the shirtless pic in his profile.

You could feel the heat creep up to your neck and ears. With how bright the lights were in the elevator, it’d be easy for James to notice how red you turned.

“Kinda hot today, don’t you think?” He asked.

You let out a mirthless chuckle, “Yeah, really hot. I think the maintenance should have the air conditioning unit checked.” You breathed out, clearing your throat again as you wiped the sweat forming on your forehead.

For a couple of seconds there was nothing but the collective sounds of you and your boss clearing your throats. The tension was so thick you can literally touch it if you tried. You wanted to address the unspoken issue but how the hell were you going to do that? Jump on his bones? It would seem like a good idea to do so except that he was your boss and that would result to you losing your job.

You wanted to ask James though, whether he was aware that you were his employee when he swiped right. Actually, you just wanted to bring up the topic just to get it over with. Acknowledge the match and then pretend it didn’t happen to save you both from the embarrassment. Yeah, you could do that.

Unable to hold back anymore, you broke the silence to ask James a question.

“Did you swipe right on accident?”

“So are you down to fuck?”

You and James asked at the same time, his straightforward question making you weak in the knees because what the hell...

James bit his lip, shaking his head in response. “I didn’t.”

“Oh.” You blinked, unable to stop yourself from staring at James’ mouth when he ran his tongue over his lower lip before taking it in between his teeth as he looked you over with glazed eyes.

Damn that tongue, though. And damn those blue eyes too.

“Are you...?” He repeated again, reminding you of his question.

Your boss, whom you rarely interacted with in the office, just asked you whether you were down to fuck. Truthfully, you were only on Tinder because of boredom and it wasn’t your goal to actually hook-up with someone. But now that your hot boss swiped right on you and seemed to be really interested in you...

“I...uhh...” you stammered, not really knowing how to tell him that yes, you would very much like to be fucked by him.

The elevator dinged, interrupting the tension between you and James. The doors slid open and James quickly straightened up before walking ahead.

But not without turning around to look at you expectantly, waiting for a response.

Due to the pressure and the elevator doors beginning to close, you blurted out the first thing that you could muster.

“Yes, sir!”

You blushed at your response but it seemed to have stirred something in James because his eyes darkened as he smirked at you.

“Good. Then I’ll see you in my office in fifteen.”

-

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