#reblogging fics

[ghostofaboy]

Interaction of Tumblr is really getting me down. I spend hours writing and get a couple of likes and no reblogs. It makes me want to not bother.

Without reblogs fics don't get seen. They die in the tags (which only work half of the time) and then get swallowed up like they never existed.

And it's gotten worse in the past few months. The influx of people from Twitter and Reddit who believe Tumblr works with the same algorithm combines with a general lack of respect for the time and effort it takes to create things.

I compare the feedback/interaction I get on here with what I get on AO3 and the difference is stark.

If you like a fic please for fucks sake reblog it. If you don't want fics on your main blog then make a little side one for it. It's free!

Please. As someone who loves to write Tumblr right now makes me want to throw in the towel.

[museaway]

✍️ more fic writer asks!

reblog & your followers can send asks with the questions they’d like you to answer!

the last sentence you wrote

a character whose POV you’re currently exploring

how you feel about your current WIP

a story idea you haven’t written yet

first sentence of the fifth paragraph of an unpublished WIP

the word that appears the most in your current draft (wordcounter.net can tell you)

your preferred writing fonts

if you had to write a sequel to a fic, you’d write one for…

start to finish, how long did it take you to write the last fic you posted?

what is the longest amount of time you’ve let a draft rest before you finished it?

a WIP you’d like to finish someday

a trope you’re really into right now

a fandom you’re thinking about writing for

where do you get your inspiration?

favorite weather for writing

favorite place to write

talk about your writing and editing process

if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

the most interesting topic you’ve researched for a fic

in what year did you publish your first fic?

when did you publish your most recent fic?

do you ever worry about public reaction to what you’re writing? how do you get past that?

pick three keywords that describe your writing

how do you recharge when you’re not feeling creative?

besides writing, what are your other hobbies?

are you able to write with other people around?

your favorite part of the writing process

your least favorite part of the writing process

how easy is it for you to come up with titles?

share a fic you’re especially proud of

[magnusbae]

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

A post in 2023:

A post in 2014:

A zoom out of the same post:

This is what a community looks like.

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

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

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

If you want more of something, reblog it.

[crsssie]

down the neck - spencer reid x sharpshooter!reader

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff, glancing through the scope at the unsub.

"Well, I have to lay low too, no?" Spencer frowns.

"It doesn't matter." You squint, humming. "Hit the button and ask Hotch if I can shoot. Be fast."

"Hotch, we have a clear shot."

"I have a clear shot."

"Snippy—"

"Fire."

You click your tongue, pulling the trigger once to hit the unsub's hand and a second to snipe the gun out of range as Morgan flies into the place. You watch through the scope as Spencer looks through the binoculars, and you only start to sit up when you see Morgan pull the unsub out. Then, you actually sit up and start packing up.

"Stop breathing down my neck." You huff.

"You weren't complaining when I—"

You hold a finger to your lips, pointing at your earpiece as Spencer blinks, laughing when you hear a cough in your ears from Hotch.

"Sorry."

"Need I remind you both of—"

"Nope." You puff out your cheeks, slinging the gun around to your back as Spencer raises a brow. "Actually, I think Reid needs a quick reminder. He'd love to go through another HR meeting about how we shouldn't be fraternizing with—"

"We're good, Hotch." Spencer cuts you off, rolling his eyes at you. "We'll see you back at the station."

"You're driving." You mumble, turning off your mic. "Two dollars and I'll drive. Four dollars and I'll make a stop at McDonalds."

"And for five?"

"I'll sneak in a kiss plus everything else."

"I think that can be arranged." He hums, pulling out a five as you press your lips to his, tongue swiping over your bottom lips as he chases when you pull away. You stick your tongue out teasingly as you take the five, craning your neck so that his lips would hit your neck instead. "Hey."

"I'll drop a ten if you—"

"Reid."

You laugh as Spencer jolts straight, pinching the bridge of his nose at the sound of Hotch.

"Turn off your mic next time."

"Roger that, sir."

You're too busy laughing the rest of the way back to be able to drive. (but spencer has no complaints when you hand him back the five with a chaste kiss to his lips).

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

“jay—” 

the sentence you somehow thought you could form dies in your throat as your breath shudders in your lungs. 

“yes, my love?” your roommate, jason todd, looks up from where he’s happily situated: between your thighs. his attention now divided, you’re mercifully granted a break. you gulp for air, your hands over your face. 

“i just need—” 

“what? what do you need?” he cuts you off, impatient that you’re pulling him away from what he’s been so dutifully working on for probably an hour..if not more. “you want me to stop?” jason teases, rubbing a warm, calloused hand over the meat of your thigh. “does it feel too good?”

“w-what?” confused, you shake your head. “i don’t—”

“i think you need someone to worry about you for once, huh?” he raises an eyebrow at you, causing your cheeks to heat as your hands fly back up to your face. “what, you don’t agree?” 

you open your mouth to argue, then close it. then open it again, thinking. 

“mm. that’s what i thought.” your roommate smirks at you, turning his gaze back onto the part of you that’s still pulsing with heat from his ministrations. his chin’s slick from how much time he’s spent tongue deep in your pussy. 

but he wants more. 

wants to feel your hands in his hair again, gripping as he draws orgasm after orgasm out of you. wants to feel your thighs tight around his head, your self-control wavering as your back arches off the mattress, again and again. 

wants nothing but to breathe you in as he presses feathery light kisses to your puffy clit, watching you squirm from the barely-there pressure of his lips. 

wants you, all of you, the happy, sad, messy, angry, loving, caring, beautiful you,

—but jason: dead and revived, beaten and bruised, silent and steadfast, your jason, can’t always put that into words, can he?

so he wants you to feel it, really feel it:

in the way he pats your thigh lovingly as he runs his tongue through your folds, over and over. 

in the way he carries you to bed when you fall asleep on him in the living room. kisses your forehead as he tucks you in.

in the way he brushes your hair out of your face before he grabs you by the cheeks and your lips meet. 

in the way he knows your favorite, well, everything. 

in the way he’s always holding your hand when the two of you walk anywhere.

in the way his pupils always widen, huge and blown out, when he looks at you, making your heart pound in time with his as he holds your gaze. 

in the way he washes your hair in the shower, 

makes your coffee in the mornings, 

buys and arranges flowers for you,

wears that cologne you like,

knows the sidewalk rule, 

kisses your forehead,

laughs with you,

smirks at you,

loves you.

and yet you two are.. 

you two, and you both worry. 

of course, you both worry. 

he worries he’s not enough for you—

his lifestyle, his history..how could he ever be what you need? how could he give you the life you deserve?

—and you worry you’re a little too much sometimes. 

a man like that? with his past, his present? and yet he takes care of you like it’s the easiest thing in the world. like he could do it in his sleep. 

all you know is that he doesn’t have to worry, shouldn’t have to, because whatever, or however much he thinks he wants something, you want it just as much..if not more. 

and what you want next? to make it official? to really, truly, make him your jason?

well. 

how could he refuse you?

[weaver-z]

Comments on erotica are so funny because a lot of the people in those sections are trying to compliment the author without directly saying "awesome job, I jacked it to this!"

[faunandfloraas]

Honestly I think a lot of people who have never made a gif for tumblr don't get that it does actually take time and effort, its not just rip it from a video and post it- you have to download the video, in my case I have a video player installed that grabs continuous caps, figure out what parts you need, you have to open those in photoshop or gimp, depending on where you got photoshop you might be paying for it every month and then on top of that is actually sizing, cropping, colouring, sharpening, adding text, etc. etc. like it is something that takes time and effort for which the only real reward is creating something that makes you happy and hopefully people reblog it with a nice or funny tag, so maybe keep that in mind the next time you think gif makers are being mean or unfair for being upset about reposts. It is its own little artform that is fairly unique to this website, and that's a big aspect of why I have always loved tumblr, if all the gifmakers stopped posting things would be a lot more boring around here.

[the-autistic-spider]

dp x dc prompt

Danny was on a date with his boyfriend

they where visiting a space meusem

while they where at a space exhibit they asked why

"why do you love space so much?"

and Danny being an idiot said

"oh its technically a genetic need to see the stars but i do like them"

and naturally this made his boyfriend confused

"like superman and the sun?"

" i guess?"

and somehow a week later his boyfriend was sneaking him onto the watchtower to see the stars

[tossawary]

Listening to someone else watch the original ATLA again, just starting season 3, and there's this line where Aang suggests that it didn't just look like he died, but he DID actually die and Katara brought him back. And look, I don't know much about the lore introduced by TLOK, but this sounds like a really fun place to start an AU inspired by "Buffy the Vampire Slayer"'s take on the temporary death and resurrection of a cyclical chosen one: Aang is brought back to life and is STILL the Avatar, but his temporary death still also causes another Avatar to be born into the Southern Water Tribe (or Swamp People or refugees on some southern island, whatever).

Like, I know the Avatar is a reincarnation thing, but weird things can happen with spirits! Maybe this glitch in the cycle causes the spiritual equivalent of mitosis to happen to the Avatar and the spirit attached to them, so there's just two of them now! Maybe having two Avatars has some spiritual downsides, maybe not, it's up to whatever path you choose to explore in this AU.

I just think it would be really funny for post-canon 20-something Aang (and the Gaang and the White Lotus and all the spiritual / religious orders on the planet) to suddenly be confronted with a 10yo water tribe kid who is ALSO the Avatar.

A water tribe couple shuffle awkwardly up to Sokka, like, "Sooooo... we think our 10 year old daughter might be the Avatar...? She can, uh, bend all the elements and all that. Look at this shit." And Sokka is like, "Fuck, Aang is dead?!" Before he's like, "Wait, I saw Aang last week, this kid is way too old?!" And he has to hastily contact Aang like, "Hey, buddy, you're still alive, right?" And Aang can only reply, "Uhhh, last I checked, yes?!?!"

It's probably Sokka and Katara who put the pieces of the timeline together and figure out what caused this, because all of the other Avatars are probably initially like, "Yeah, I have no idea what's happening here. I'm you and you're me, but I'm also her and she's also me, and you and her are kind of the same person, but you're obviously different people now? Wow! Good luck figuring all that out, kid! You're really going places none of us have gone before! A real groundbreaker!"

Aang, through gritted teeth, "I am really not TRYING to do that, thank you!"

[sgt-tombstone]

Fanfic/Author Ask Game

Write a scene from [insert fic] in another character’s POV

Which of your fics is your pride and joy?

What are your top three most commonly used tags on AO3?

What are some words or phrases you feel like you overuse?

What’s something you learned while researching a fic?

Would you ever accept requests or commissions?

Coffee or tea while you write?

What is your favorite line/section from [insert fic]?

How did you get into writing fanfiction?

Is there a character or ship you'd love to write for, but haven't yet?

What makes a fic 'successful' in your opinion?

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Do you have an 'official' creative writing background such as a degree or previous experience publishing?

What makes you happiest? New fic comments, kudos, bookmarks, user subscribers, story subscribers, or Tumblr asks?

Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

What do you struggle with most when writing?

What is something you recently felt proud of in your writing?

How many WIPs do you have and how many do you expect to finish?

How do you get over writer's block?

Share your favorite kiss scene from [insert fic]. If there's no kiss scene, share your favorite moment of intimacy (romantic or platonic)

What stops you from writing more in your free time?

Did you do anything special to celebrate finishing a fic?

What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

Which scene/theme was the inspiration for [insert fic]?

Are there any moments in [insert fic] that feel "blurry" to you? Is this a stylistic choice, or would you go back and clarify the descriptions if you were given the chance?

Do you ever "prep" your fics with outlines or warmups before you start writing, or do you just dive right in?

Are any of your stories inspired by personal experience?

What's the angstiest idea you've ever come up with?

How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?

Have you noticed your style change over time?

What fic meant the most to you to write?

A character you enjoy making suffer.

A character you want to protect.

What is your favorite fic to get comments/messages on?

Wild Card: Ask me something else!

[sammygender]

john, pacing around the motel room (wondering if sam is gay, and what this means for his Hunting Career): Do you and sam ever talk about girls?

15 y old dean (thinks john is homophobic) (thinks sam is gay): um. sometimes

john: i mean, you do think he Likes Girls, right?

dean: (red alert) (this is bad) (dad thinks sam is gay) (sam is gay) (this is bad) Of course... why would you even say that... he talks about girls all the time..... just because he does theatre?

john (did not know sam has signed up for theatre) (now thoroughly distracted): SAM DOES THEATRE?

dean (thinks dad is being homophobic): you know, there's really nothing that gay about theatre-

john (just wants sam to focus on hunting and prioritise their family for ONCE in his life, goddamnit) (has totally forgotten he was worrying about his gay son): he didn't tell me he'd started doing- theatre- what is he doing? doesn't he realise there are more important things at stake here? *starts muttering to self about RESPONSIBILITIES and REVENGE and other, non starting with R words*

dean (now thinks he's saved the day by diverting dad onto a different, more trodden path of anger-at-sam): yeah... youd have to ask sammy..... at least he's shut up about missing soccer practices for a bit, right?

john (now suddenly back on the gay sam? path) (genuinely just posing questions and has no ill will) : is it just me or do you think soccer's kind of a girly sport?

dean, sweating (dad is going to hate crime my gay little brother): Not Really

btw this whole time sam is like 11 years old and cares more about like. pokemon cards. than anything else

[dreamsteddie]

Stretch Zone

I was feeling inspired and wrote the first little bit of this Yoga Steve Steddie and Buckingham au I was playing with yesterday. Not sure if I'll continue with it, but I had some dialogue floating around in my head and wanted to let it out.

I'm not really experienced in writing dialogue so my apologies if it came out weird.

Part Two

------

Steve thinks Robin is being ridiculous, but at the same time, he knows firsthand how far someone will go for a crush. Robin calls him a “loverboy” which, is not completely off the mark but feels unnecessary to point out right after Steve gets ghosted…again.

But that’s beside the point. The point being that Robin has been going off about how she cornered herself into going to an intermediate yoga class to try and woo the cute girl who sits in front of her in her mandatory Writing 212 class. Apparently, Robin got a full two minutes of conversation in with said girl, a real feat since Robin usually spends the whole class psyching herself up to talk to her and then chickens out and dashes out the door as soon as class lets out. During said conversation, Robin found out Chrissy is a yoga instructor at the rec off campus, which resulted in Robin blurting out that she’s been meaning to take up yoga again (she’s never been) and that she’ll stop by a class sometime.

Which leads to now.

“-and I’ve never done yoga! I’ve never even thought about yoga except for that one time my hippie aunt Jen came to stay with us for a week and took up the entire living room every morning to do her weird stretches-” breath “and you know how clumsy I am! I’m going completely fall on my face and the angel that is Chrissy Cunningham is going to know that I’m a failed jock with no coordination and she’ll never fall in love with me!” she finally stops, taking a big heaving breath.

Steve, used to these occasional Robin Buckley rants had been leaning against the breakfast bar letting her go on for the last three and a half minutes. Sometimes it’s just better to let her get it out first.

“You done?” Steve asks, raising an eyebrow.

“I’m done,” she replies, flopping on the sofa behind her like all the wind has gone out of her sails. Steve hates to see her upset, but at the end of the day, it’s an easy fix.

“Sweet. So I’ll just go with you alright? And when you completely biff it and fall on your face I’ll just,” he steps away from the bar and mimes falling onto the couch next to her, ignoring her over-exaggerated oof, “fall even harder, or whatever. Make a whole scene of it.” Robin glares a little at the when, but ultimately can’t be upset when they both know it’s inevitable.

“Seriously?” she asks, eyes big and blue in a way that always makes Steve want to punch a wall. He doesn’t. Only did it once when they were both supremely drunk and feeling emotional, but he does wrap his arms around her narrow shoulders.

“Eh, why not? Maybe I’ll even find a cool yoga babe of my own to woo,” he says waggling his brows in a way that makes her scrunch up her nose.

“As if Harrington. I bet you’ll fall even more than me. You’re big jock muscles aren’t designed for flexibility,” she says with a faux pretentious accent.

“We’ll see about that, Buckley.”

------

Steve, much to Robin’s chagrin, does not fall on his face. Well, he does once, but it’s only because he’s following through on his promise to crash out for her when she falls on her face. Which she does almost as soon as Chrissy gives the instruction to lift their left leg while in downward dog. Unfortunately, it only worked the first time. The second time Robin crashed down, Steve wasn’t in a safe position to fall with her. By the time he was, the moment had passed. Luckily it’s nearing the end of the class when it happens and Chrissy mercifully releases them to relax into a corpse pose which, if you asked Robin, was perfectly fitting given the situation.

Steve though.

Steve really enjoyed the class.

Robin was right when he said his usual exercise regime wasn’t necessarily focused on flexibility and balance, but he finds yoga challenging in a gentler way than basketball or swimming. By the end of the day, he’s signing up for the full 12-week course and talking to Chrissy about what kind of equipment he should invest in.

“The most important thing is the grip. Mine was really expensive but I use it for work so I wouldn’t get the same one unless you’re planning to use it every day. If you’re comfortable giving me your number, I can send you some links to more reasonably priced ones.” Wow, Steve gets why Robin likes her so much. She’s like a walking ray of sunshine. Part of him wonders if she’s hitting on him, but she seems like she genuinely wants to help, not take him on a date.

“Sure, yeah, that would be great. Let me just…” he pulls out his phone and unlocks it, handing it over to the girl in front of him. She puts in her name and number, which, is always good. Steve is so bad with names he wouldn’t want to spell it wrong and give Robin another reason to make fun of him. She hands it back and Steve is getting ready to say his goodbyes and go hunt down Robin, who fled as soon as the class went out, but Chrissy starts talking before he can.

“You came with Robin, right? Robin Buckley?” She blurts out, clearly nervous. “We’re in class together but I didn’t know she had a boyfriend. It’s nice to meet you!” It’s not that Steve thinks she’s lying, but there’s an undercut of something that makes him think Robin might not be alone in her pining.

“Yeah, we came in together.” He lets it hang, watching as her shoulders slump a little. “But we’re not dating or anything. I’m, uh, not really her type.” Her eyes go a little wide at his emphasis on type, perking up at the knowledge that Robin isn’t dating.

Oh yeah, he thinks, she’s got it just as bad.

[kendalzu]

RIDE TILL YOU CANT NO MORE.

boothill x reader | HEAVY SMUT | improper use of gas tank | improper use of USB cord. | riding fingers | cowboy man rhrhhrrhhrrhrh 🤤🤤🤤 | dom to sub teehee | BOOTHILL BRAINROT.

“just like that my honey— ride them just like that. make yourself feel good.” Boothill hissed into your ear, his sharp teeth threatening to nip at your oh so sweet neck. your moans echoing against the small room you guys were in, he kissed you harshly to shut you up.

“honeybun— shut up, you don’t want to get caught now do ya’?” his fingers curling up into your tight hole. but you had enough of his teasing and ‘mean’ remarks. you found the hole below his back, and managed to stick one of your fingers in the hole.

“hey now— that’s not.. mmgf.” his sweet whimper made you want more from him, so that’s exactly what you did. he was so adorable— putting up a face for you, but touch the right places and he will fold. his humanoid metal figure turing his gears— quite loudly..

“honey, shut up now will ya?” you mocked him while inserting one more finger inside him, making his mouth tremble and fight back his moans, but he just couldn’t help himself. his eyes were telling you everything that you needed to know.

unexpectedly— you started toying with the USB’s to the side of his waist, dragging your finger across the rectangular window of wires. if it was possible for cyborgs to cry, he would be sobbing right now.

the pleasure was all too much for him, he whined and begged you to stop or he would shut down from pure pleasure. “honey, honey please! you can’t do this to meee..” his words extended, legs bucking before his eyes went black— he shut down.

the night ended with some kisses, and you bought him home to recharge him.

[chiakery]

I'm thinking about the Matron of Ravens one day telling her champion, her first and most trusted ally since ascending to godhood, that she's going to leave him for some time.

I'm thinking about Purvan Suul, months or years later, following a raven until he arrived in front of a hovel. Inside it, there was a family. A mother. A father. A young girl with dark hair and green eyes, swaddled in blankets.

I'm thinking about Emhira's parents, not understanding why this stranger decided to take care of them but being infinitely grateful for this blessing - a skilled ranger bringing food and helping find shelter whenever their family had to move was more than anyone could hope for in times like these.

I'm thinking about Emhira, still young and mostly human, growing up looking up to this man who was so close with her he could have been her second father. Begging him to take her hunting, to teach her how to make and repair arrows. Playing with his wolf who was always so very gentle with her. Learning about Fate and Death and Gods.

I'm thinking about Purvan, patient as death, answering all of Emhira's questions but never pushing her in any direction, even when he saw her talking to ravens or idly drawing in sand symbols no one had ever showed her.

I'm thinking about Purvan and how, one day, this girl who was his god who was a little and vulnerable thing he had protected for the past decade and half, finally remembered. How she smiled at him in just the right way or placed a hand on his cheek with this look in her eyes and he knew. And he fell to his knees, heart bursting with prayer and joy and relief and said: "My Lady, welcome back."

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

your boyfriend, jason todd, could break out of your pink fuzzy handcuffs whenever he wants to.

he's fought countless goons—

kicked guns out of their hands, strangled them, escaped without a scratch (besides red, chafed wrists)

—all while tied up

so to put it frankly, the cheap metal of your sex store purchased handcuffs would not hold up against the power of his arms pulling at them. that's why his arms are decidedly slackened as he looks up at you. a lazy, expectant smile plays on his lips. what's your plan here?

and to be honest, you don't really have one. you thought of the tying-him-up part.. but not much else. your brain gets a little fuzzy just looking at him.

you'd brought out the cuffs, and he'd been down enough to try, telling you that if he was tied back, you'd be given full control..

you'd been so eager that neither of you had even undressed.

how were you even supposed to actually do anything to him? jason's biceps bulged through his shirt sleeves, and the stretch you had him in resulted in his shirt riding up, exposing his stomach. a line of dark hair disappeared down into the waistband of his boxers, into the deep blue denim of his jeans.

thoughts of riding him flit around your brain, making your heartbeat grow louder in your ears. he's restrained. you could tease him, pull him dangerously close to the edge, so close that he's whining, begging you to finish, before stopping altogether just to listen to him pant. you could take a seat on his face, your boyfriend using nothing but his mouth to get you off. and he'd work hard at it too, never one to give low effort to a job like that.

his eyes are half-open, but you can still see how big his pupils are. the warmth in between your thighs grows, you're unable to ignore it as it unfurls into your belly. you can see your boyfriend notice the way you're shifting around, his canines practically glinting when his smile widens in response. your pulse quickens. restraining him almost feels like a mistake.

jason doesn't think he's ever been this hard in his life. he knows you. he can practically see you thinking, knows that whatever you plan to do has you squirming, and it's just making his cock strain painfully against the taut fabric of his jeans. he can tell you're trying to ignore how wet you are, and it's done nothing but send blood pumping into his cock faster.

but he's humoring you. he wouldn't say you had full control, and not give it to you.

you've driven yourself wild with all the possibilities and jason's driven himself wild with the present. the two of you aren't even touching, didn't need to be, with how hungry you are for each other.

you place your palms on your boyfriend's chest, determined in your actions as you straddle his hips. he barks out a strained laugh.

"it's about fuckin' time."