#i am crying as i write this

[raccoon-in-a-hoodie]

just watched nimona

[kriz-smthn]

[inkskinned]

i got my isbn today for the book. 8 months to go. my mom and i were talking about what the next steps are. i was eating trail mix, standing on one foot, phone tucked into my ear.

"yeah," i said. "the problem is that tumblr as a market is like, not something that can be studied." there's this weird wave of nostalgia and affection for this place that came up over me: how lovely we avoid consumerism. okay, it sucks as a creator. but also? keep stickin' it to 'em.

my mother made the sound at the back of her throat that i also make, the one that means i've got an idea. "you should figure out some kind of reward for presale amounts. maybe you give out poems or a mug or a signed book or something. would your followers like that?" my mother is sweet, and kind, and i have no idea how to explain on this website you can buy someone crabs.

i put more m&ms down the hatch. i had to speak through peanuts and almonds. "if it passes 25 thousand i will print the book out in its entirety and eat it live on camera."

"oh god. no, you don't have to do that." she was anguished. "just tell them that you'd love them to read it, and that they've inspired you to write. you got started on that site, and they helped you keep going. raquel, you love these people. the community? you talk all the time about the other writers and artists and whatever else. tell them that you're hoping for their support, they'll come through."

"no," i assured her. i discovered i had dropped an m&m, but an ant had already found it, so it belonged to him now. i will let his little life have a surprise blue treasure in it, too. "i'm gonna fuckin' eat the book."

[joeyzarthouse]

Pov: you live rent free in my head and won’t get out. Please get out. Why is this happening. Please pat my mind is a slave to you. No- NO! NOT THE BUTTER KNIFE NOOOOO!—

[yuutaguro]

see you in kuantan ✌️🏝️

[imsiriuslyreading]

being a POC in the Marauders/HP fandom is really interesting to me because it seems and feels like a really predominantly white space, which, hey, nothing new! and that does come with some challenges. for the most part, they're fairly under the radar.

it's things like being able to count the POC in a discord server on one hand, even though there's 100+ people in the community.

it's people not taking into account racial dynamics whether that be in a fic, or in a tiktok, tumblr, whatever. there are innate power imbalances in our society (regardless of what country you live in) and to assume because this fandom is a largely open, liberal and leftist space, that they don't carry over to fandom, is exceptionally naive. buuuuut, we live and learn, so people can and should be given a certain amount of grace. but what is unforgivable is to have them pointed out to you and for you to dismiss, ignore or belittle them. Not only that, but you as a white person, do not get to be the forgiving voice to another white person when they make one of these mistakes. please please please respect and understand that.

there's also (and i'm sorry if this is controversial and frankly it makes me really nervous to even write this), a trend of assigning ethnicities, cultures and races to characters in stories without having a proper understanding of them, or having a particular reason for doing so. I'm never going to sit here and say "you as a white person shouldn't write about ____ race!", because I don't believe that. but what I would really, really love to see, is for white creators and writers to ask themselves some questions beforehand:

what does the race of this character add to the story outside of me chasing clout with a particular group of people/is it necessary for me to be writing the lived experience of a culture/ethnicity I've never taken the time to learn about?

if so, why?

am i the right person to be doing this?

are my actions outside of my writing towards these POC reflective of this?

i also think it's really important to remember that unconscious bias is a thing, and it's really easy for us to spot in your writing if it isn't something you've addressed. Not only that, but even if you write the most well-researched POC in your fic, even if you're sharing posts about Lebanon and Palestine, none of that matters if your actions when interacting with us show us that you are indifferent to the power dynamics at play with you being a white person, often with a large audience, in this space. virtue signalling is spectacularly unhelpful if you're writing checks your ass can't cash.

that being said, I think throwing 'racist' around as a term at people who make mistakes is really unhelpful. because every situation has context and nuance, and dogpiling never helps anybody. there are opportunities for learning, developing and understanding here. but please remember, if a POC tells you something is upsetting, harmful or offensive - even if other POC haven't said that to you - it's not your place as a white person to dismiss that.

anyway, hope that helps, love u very much xo

[crystalflygeo]

Kinktober Day 4 - Humping (an object) ft Neuvillette (Genshin Impact)

I wrote this in a horny haze, I wasn't myself don't loOK AT ME DON'T PERCEIVE ME BYE. (You, I blame you, you know who you are //aff)

Short puffs of breath come out of your parted lips. 

Your hands claw at his robes, his spats. There was something incredibly erotic about being fully naked, on your knees, staring up like a little eager pet at the Chief Justice of Fontaine, pristine as ever wearing his full regalia.

Even kinkier that you were in his office at Palais Mermonia. 

Oh, but that wasn’t the extent of your depravity…

You bite your lip to muffle the soft little whines that threaten to burst, hips moving back and forth, twitching, keeping a staccato rhythm as you rub your pussy on his polished black cane. Trying to get the angle just right to stimulate your needy clit. 

“Mmmm…. ah…”

Neuvillette wasn’t very sure of the appeal at first but now as he looms over you, he understands. His throat dry, jaw tight with a closed expression, yet his eyes burn with a fierce intensity, his desire barely hanging on a thread.

He catches the scent and then the sight of your slick glistening along the length of his cane and almost growls, a soft rumble on his chest. His grip tightening on the object’s handle.

You close your eyes and toss your head back, back arching.

“F-ffuck…”

“Language, dear.” He says before he can even think. His voice is deep and hoarse. 

Neuvillette tilts the cane slightly to tease your folds with the tip of it and you stutter and moan, eyes widening. “Y-yes sir…” You blurt out.

He narrows his eyes. That gone already? “Enjoying yourself, my nymph?” 

You nod, rutting frantically against the sleek object. “Yes, yes… always… wanted to do this.” Your thoughts are fuzzy, head swimming in pleasure.

He tsks. “How indecent.” 

You whine.

It goes on for a little while, your legs starting to get sore, your hips tiring and yet you’re more worked up than ever, all hot and bothered, shivering and frustrated.  

“Sir… please…” You pant.

“Hm? What is it?” He sees you stop, chest rising and falling with rapid breath, your perky nipples tantalizing.

“Please… fuck me. I need you inside me.” 

“Tired of your little indulgence already? You got yourself in this predicament.”

Oh he wants to see you beg. 

“Please, please please please, ruin me, fill me up… I need you.” 

he raises the end of the cane up closer to him, the scent of your arousal intoxicating. He runs a gloved finger along the shiny surface, gathering some of your juices, and licks at it, you whimper and squirm. “Such a waste… very well, then” Neuvillette dismisses the item with a wave of his hand, it disappears in a rain of sparkles. “Bend over my desk.” 

[elsecrytt]

Satoru Gojo goes to the same cafe every day for his coffee-flavored confectionary beverage. You are the barista tasked with pumping his drink with the unreasonable assortment of syrup squeezes.

You don't blink at it. You've been in customer service forever. Everything is second nature to you. But you give him a look when you hand him a drink and he just starts going.

He likes to make small chat, you learn. About meaningless things - desserts, drinks, the weather - but he makes you laugh, and he laughs at your jokes, too. He's smiling every time you talk.

He's beautiful - in that way that makes you uncertain if he's really there - and friendly, and he seems a bit lonely, eager to converse.

Something tells you Satoru probably doesn't have a lot of close friends. He's rich, too, judging by the massive tips he leaves you.

The thing is, you do a lot of things on autopilot. It's just the way these things get after a while. Pouring drinks, "What would you like today?", "I'll have that out for you soon!", "Have a nice day!", all that stuff.

Sometimes, though. Sometimes. Wires get crossed.

He's picked up his drink to leave, giving you a cheeky smile and a little wave, and you tell him, without thinking twice:

"Love you, bye!"

Oh. Oh fucking hell -

"Love you too!"

[coffeebanana]

there will never ever ever ever ever ever ever EVER be enough hurt/comfort fics. just so you know

[daphnalia]

and they were galpals

[purpleelephantsocks]

Oh god, oh fuck, oh no; the parallels between Jean at the beginning of tsc panicking and telling Wymack "I want to go home" and Jean at the end of tsc falling apart after finding out his baby sister has died, telling Neil the same thing.

"I want to go home."

He is only nineteen

[synthe4u]

The stress was beginning to seep in. Your eyebags becoming more visible by the day. No one could tell you were more tired than the past week.

You were more quiet and less aggressive in your talking. You seem to have lost your spirit in a way, but of course, the man in the mask figured it out.

Ghost eyed you on the other side of the room. You were bobbing your head, nearly falling asleep before being shaken awake by the slight fall of your body.

You were being distracted by the lights and paid no mind to Ghost's wandering eyes.

It wasn't until around 2100 (9:00pm) when he knocked at your door. You weren't asleep yet. Your light was still on.

Opening the door you asked, "Is something wrong?"

You hadn't changed out of uniform and still seemed out of it.

"Why aren't you asleep?"

"Why are you awake?"

You snapped back at him. You weren't in the mood. You've been tolerable all day, no arguments or fights, but it's clear he came to ruin that.

He stared at you in silence. The mask made him more intimidating which caused you to fess up.

You ran your hands through you hair, frowning in disgust at the knots in your hair.

"Just some family problems is all."

"Losing sleep over your family?"

You sighed, "What do you need?"

"Need you to sleep so we could complete this mission."

"I'm not broken, I can still do the mission."

Silence permeated the hall, other than the occasional fizzle from that one light the base swears isn't broken or haunted.

"Can I come in?"

The door widened a foot further, allowing the masked man inside. You didn't understand why you would let him in. You don't let anyone in your room, at least, not for silly matters like this.

He followed you further into your room after shutting the door, and settled on the side of your bed. You didn't have time to question it before you fell.

Collapsing on the spot, Ghost caught you before the ground could do actual damage to your body.

I guess the sleep had caught up to you, just as Ghost had caught you.

Sleep truly is not for the weak. Stay healthy, guys.

.............................................................................................................

masterlist

[lilybug-02]

Me: Ahh I feel so embarrassed as an adult wanting to write children's stories and messages.

Also Me: Girl, who do you think writes children's stories????

[julijbee]

girlbossing too close to the sun.

[dantesmelancholicshitpost]

I was just now debating who should receive my therapy bills for the kiss scene in ep6...

Ofc there is David Tennant, full of desperation, grasping at straws. We cannot see his eyes, but we know damn well that they are watery and full of fear and awareness that this may be his last chance.

But then there is Michael Sheen whose conflicted attitude already prompted me to write a (not so) short analysis in my notes. Aziraphale whose yearning and longing for Crowley is so palpable, whose hands look for some sort of contact and embrace, whose pain we can see so clearly when he pushes Crowley away and whose entire body language is just filled with dilemmas, with antonyms, whose internal conflict is so tangible.

And then there is Neil, the mastermind. The one who is there pulling the strings. The one who made this scene a parallel of the scene from s1 where Crowley pushes Aziraphale to the wall, saying "I'm not nice", but this time he just wants him to understand, that Aziraphale is nice, more than nice, moreover that Crowley MAY BE nice, but they are just not fit for Heaven, they belong only in eachother. And the hurt after Aziraphale doesn't accept this unspoken but so clearly communicated argument...

In conclusion, they should just split it

[nedlittle]

need the historical romance girlies to go back to their roots and read forever amber (1944)