#the way i got word limit

[emptytcwn]

when tate spoke to her, she always gave him her undivided attention. wanted him to know she heard everything he was saying and cared about it, too. she wasn't ever going to be dismissive of homme before her, not when he meant so much to her. gretchen actually loved him, in a way she'd never loved another soul before ─── not even her boyfriend. nodded at his words, soft sigh escaping. " i understand what you're saying. " she assured him. " but nothing he says matters to me. it hasn't for a really long time. " her boyfriend could say whatever he wanted to her, gretchen likely wouldn't believe a word he said. tate showed her how he felt, even if he didn't verbalize it regularly. despite her admission, his inquiry floored her. truthfully, gretchen didn't know how to answer him, because she didn't have a good response available. he'd made a fair and valid point, something she was unable to argue against. " i . . . i don't know. maybe i'm just scared of retaliation. you know just as well as i do that he wouldn't just let this go. he'd try to make your life as miserable as possible all over again. i don't want that for you. " she cared about tate too much to be the reason he had to deal with her boyfriend's wrath. in her own head, her logic made sense. while it would've been nice to have the kind of relationship she wanted with tate, she was too afraid of the potential consequences of ending her relationship with her boyfriend. there were too many risks in her eyes. though, she could understand tate's confusion at the same time. for the time being, this was what they had to work with, and she'd made peace with that. at least carson was gone for long enough periods of time for them to enjoy one another's company. perhaps one day she'd find the courage to leave him without fear of repercussions. grinned proudly as he called her a brat, something she'd known about herself for quite some time now. " mmm . . . but i'm your brat. " always his. she only wanted tate, could never offer up this much of herself to another. in her head, this was mostly a game. while she didn't doubt he was capable of killing carson, she didn't fully believe he'd follow through with it. " i want him dead, " gretchen told him, not really thinking much of it. had she just condemned her boyfriend to death ? she didn't have too much time to think about that, attention focused on homme currently standing above her. " i understand. only you can touch me, " she placated him. a small whine passed through her lips at the sound of torn fabric, brows furrowing slightly. " i really liked that set. i hope you plan on replacing them. " probably not the most ideal time to lodge a complaint, but the words left her mouth before she could reconsider her attitude. his praise brought a smile to her lips, loved the way he constantly validated her.

" all yours baby, " she told him proudly. sound of surprise escaped her lips as she was hastily tugged towards the edge of her bed, barely given any time to react before she was met with his mouth on her needy cunt. " f - fuck, daddy, " she choked out, hands hastily moving to grasp at her sheets desperately needing something to grab onto in order to steady herself.

" i think it's kinda true , though . . . people can say one thing and go and do the complete opposite . i just want you to feel i'm different , i could tell you how much you mean to me until i'm blue in the fuckin' face ──── but so can he . i don't know . . . does that make any sense ? " never been adept with discussing his feelings , only increasing tate's unease yet it's not enough to deter him now that he's started . the dam had burst , now there was no stopping his honesty even if he wished it . the confirmation gretchen provides when she speaks sends shivers down his spine , goosebumps popping up all over the smooth plane of his back . convinced there is no feeling better than this , like he's soaring up above in a fucking out of body experience , watching all this play out in the corner . it's almost a movie , all of this happening to some other guy ── not tate . maybe he's played this out in his fantasies too many times so now that it's all manifesting , his elation is transcending . " if you know all that then what are we doing , gretchen ? why the hell are we still sneaking around ? " it's not like tate would ever drop an ultimatum on her : an official demand that it's either him or the boyfriend , no more playing around . that would be unfair of him to box her in like that . she's always been the one holding all the cards . whoever she wants is her's . the man sharing her bed isn't a fucking idiot . he might take gretchen for granted but he knows the gem he's scored . its why he holds on so tight despite giving up the bare minimum . it makes tate sick . as euphoric it is to get the affirmation that the girl he loves feels the same way as he does , it's aggravating as hell . doesn't know why she's been dragging this on . a life with them together , as a couple , is right there within reach . all she has to do extend out her hand and take it . irritation expresses externally as sexual frustration ─── grip on gretchen's chin firm and unrelenting . " you fuckin' brat . . . " he stands up straight , standing over vixen on the bed , her curls fanning around her , tits out . . . such a pretty picture . " if you say that's what you want . say you want him dead . either way , he's never gonna touch you again . tell me you understand . " the silky shorts of her bedroom set is no match for tate , ripping them in half from the waist until he can pull it off her , tossing the destroyed fabric behind him with reckless abandon . " good girl , " he praises , the sight of gretchen swallowing up his spit makes his dick throb . " my good girl . " without much warning , he's sinking down to the floor , arms hooking around her legs to impatiently tug her ass down to the edge of the mattress . open - mouth collides against her cunt , sealing around her clit with a feral urgency .

[ragnarokhound]

Trick or Treat! Thank you for sharing all your wonderful writing!!

Happy Halloween! Thank you so much for reading, I'm so happy you've enjoyed! <3 (holds jaytim up like the potato: i just think they're neat)

Okay this response got long so it's going under a cut, haha, enjoy!!

The curse is cruel. "You really think that you're a better Robin?" Jason sneers. His blood coats Jason's fist. "A better Robin?" Tim echoes through bloody teeth.

"That's what I said, pretender. Haven't you got any words of your own? You have to steal those from me too?" "Steal? From me too?" He gasps. The questions burn his mouth like acid, frustration and rage held prisoner by his traitorous tongue. Jason's brow furrows, then smooths in the space of an instant. "Pathetic," Jason taunts, abandoning confusion for disgust and disappointment. In a sharp, painful crack of his fist, the world goes black before Tim can agree. *** "How long has it been?" Jason says. It's been years. Smoke curls between the gaps in his cupped hands as the brief burst of flame dies to an ember, glowing vermillion at the end of his cigarette. "Long," Tim answers with a sigh. He can't even sign his own words, his hands always twisting into shapes first held by someone else's mouth. By the last person who spoke to him. The railing of the fire escape is icy beneath his elbows. He should have worn a thicker jacket, but he didn't have time tonight. Jason is leaving in the morning, and Tim wanted to see him before he goes. This new thing between them, this friendship on the cusp of something else— is fragile and hard-won. Tim wants to nurture it, to see if the warmth roiling under the surface can be coaxed to blazing life. Jason shuts his lighter with a snap. His shoulder is warm against Tim's. Tim watches him breathe in poison, and envies the poison. "And no one's figured it out? Who did this to you?" Tim rolls his eyes. "Figured it out," he restates flatly. Of course he knows who did this to him. Of course Bruce and the rest know. The who was easy. Fae and demons aren't subtle, and they aren't exactly commonplace. It makes for a short list to dig through. Jason grins, cherry-red and laughing at him. "Right, right. I mean, you ever figure out how to fix it? How to get your own words back? Yes or no," he tacks on helpfully. Only seldom does Jason remember to do that, to give Tim more options to choose from. It's not that he doesn't care, or that he isn't careful with his words. He just doesn't have to be. He's always had a knack for guessing what Tim means on the first try. Now that he isn't trying to punish Tim for using Jason's words like their his own. Like what he'd done with Robin.

Tim used to resent it, that of all the people in the world to guess what he's feeling, Jason Todd could do it best. Used to. Tim looks away. "Fix it," he murmurs. "Yes." Not that it matters. Jason cocks his head. His cigarette burns between his fingers, half-forgotten. "Why the fuck haven't you, then? If it were me—" Jason cuts himself off with a self-conscious laugh. "Ah, forget it. I'm sure you'd love to if you could, right?" Tim's eyes go wide. Jason's never said that to him before. One word of three that make the key. Tim knows what he feels. He knows how to break it. "And give the son of a bitch responsible a kiss in the teeth for good measure," Jason continues, oblivious to the effect of his words. Tim seizes Jason's arm, ignoring how he flinches. Hope is fleeting enough as it is. "Wha—" "Love to," Tim interrupts, urgent, heart tripping in his chest. "You..." He swallows, his throat closing up, not sure if he can say the last word. Not because of any curse, but because it's— it's too much. It's too bold. It won't work. So why not try? Jason stares at him, waiting for him to speak. "...kiss," he whispers. Tim begs him to understand. Jason raises his eyebrows. "...kiss?" Jason echoes softly, his voice thick. He cups the back of Tim's head in his free hand. "You want to kiss me, babybird?" He's relaxed a fraction, and Tim can tell he still doesn't get it. The one time he doesn't understand the full depth of Tim's meaning, and it had to be now. "Well, why didn't you say so?" Before Tim can express just how unimpressed he is by— Jason kisses him. He tastes like smoke and a hint of mint, and like skin and teeth and tongue. He licks into Tim's mouth when he gasps, and swallows every sound he makes. Like it's not enough to own Tim's words; he needs to own the rest of him as well. Tim doesn't even know if it will work. What makes a love true, anyway? When you've bled and fought for it, tooth and nail? When you didn't even want it at first, but you know, like it was inevitable, that you can't live anymore without it squeezing your heart in its fist? When magic cannot bind you anymore, because you don't belong wholly to yourself alone. When you've chosen to be beholden. When it was never a choice at all. The autumn air is freezing, but Jason's hands are searing hot on Tim's face, burning his cheeks with the shape of his fingers. Tim doesn't remember tucking his hands under Jason's jacket, or finding the broad stretch of his shoulderblades with his palms. But when he grazes the skin at the back of his neck, just above Jason's shirt collar, he shivers in Tim's grip. Jason pulls away abruptly, and Tim protests. "Do you want—" Jason started to ask. "Jason," Tim huffs, breathless. "Why'd you stop?" It rings in the air between them, clear as a bell. They both freeze. "...Tim?" Jason asks slowly. "Did you just—" "Jason," Tim says again, disbelieving. Then wondering. It's the first word that's belonged solely to him in years. The first word that's his. "Jason."

(For the trick or treat ask game! Send me a trick or treat ask and I'll share jaytim WIP snippets, or new 3-sentence -paragraph fics, etc :^) through the 31st!)

[dykedvonte]

I think it’s so ironic that the Pony Express escapes a lot if not all blame in discussion. I can’t even say I am excused from it but it’s just how hard people circle back to the characters alone without considering the environment they were made to be in.

Why would they design a ship where only two of the rooms lock? Not the bathroom? Not the sleeping quarters? We assume that all the companies in the universe are this shallow and careless to their workers but we explicitly know the Pony Express in extra vile. They are fed processed slop pack they can’t even really cook and the ration of those pack is meager at best. They hired and made people with a plethora of conflicting demeanors and beliefs work together on a mission where cohesion is important if not an outright necessity and punish them for not being happy about it. There’s no social protocols, not chain of command other than Captain’s word/choice and the only way to enforce that is with a literal firearm. They don’t allow them to celebrate freely and even took away leisure activities that would make them less stir crazy. They are only allowed a few hours of sleep despite their being no other real responsibilities or work on the ship, no matter the position or its importance. With any crew, with any level of synergy, this was a powder keg waiting for a spark.

I’m not saying characters that made mistakes didn’t make huge ones, but I think part of the horror is that at least for some (this is targeting Jimathan) those mistakes are partly made by a force of the hand. There’s a running theme of lack of choice and being forced into something and the very nature of how The Pony Express expected them to function plays a big part.

[maulfucker]

So fucked up that obimaul is a rarepair. What do you mean not everyone is obsessed with enemies to lovers with a Force connection, where one side is completely obsessed with the other who barely acknowledges him (but is just as affected)

[luck-of-the-drawings]

OH ARTHUR BENNETT.. such a gorgeous and intriguing character. terribly burdened by a GRUESOME set of crimes, his light suffocated by a HEAVY century of GUILT. so tragic, so dark and broody, and yet PAINFULLY awkward in any social setting ever

[uncanny-tranny]

How do I know if I'm bi?

So this might not be a helpful answer, but it is my genuine thought, and I want to be honest: You know you're bi if you find comfort, or happiness, or understanding of yourself in that label. It's not necessarily about split attraction to multiple genders.

Yes, bisexual people will often be attracted to more than one gender (not just man and woman, either! Many bisexual people aren't attracted to both binary genders because bisexuality is yet another complex and nuanced component of human sexuality, which in itself is inherently complex). Yes, many bisexual people express those attractions, and yes, many bisexual people share things in common. But frankly, not every bisexual is going to have similar experiences or thoughts or expressions of sexuality. My bisexuality is going to look different than yours might because I am a different human being. As such, I think it's less helpful to say "to be bisexual, you need to have these experiences," but it's more helpful to say, "if you find comfort in the bisexual label, use it"

The worst that happens with sexuality labels is you find one that matches better. I used to use the label pansexual when I was younger - the worst thing that happened was I stopped using it a year later when I felt it didn't accurately describe my feelings anymore.

If you suspect you're bi, there's likely a reason for that, and there's nothing wrong with you investigating that further. However, I don't want you to feel like you need to Prove Yourself to even use language that accurately describes your sexuality or sense of sexuality - no matter if that language is as simple as saying you're bisexual or not. Sexuality is an important aspect of identity for many folks, and you deserve the opportunity to make it as important or inconsequential as you want. Nobody is going to throw you in jail for not being bisexual or queer "enough." There's no law that says you have to have a 50/50 split attraction to binary men and women only to be bi. There's no bisexual card we hand out to you, saying you've been vetted as Bi Enough.

[old-long-john]

Anyone got any nice stuff suggestions for someone not having a good time of it lately? Music recs, tv or film recs, loustat fic recs, real life pick me up recs, absolutely anything that helps you feel better when you’re feeling shit?

[mlobsters]

supernatural s1e16 shadow (w. eric kripke)

Dad's vulnerable when he's with us. He's stronger without us around.

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 4 :)

[snickerdoodlles]

there's a lot of things people blame for why fandoms feel like ghost towns these days, but no one's really talked about the way discord's contributing to it

[gotta-bail-my-quails]

really feeling that moon knight 'random bullshit go' meme as i'm writing this essay

[sociallyawkwardseal]

Okay, so not fanfic/writing stuff but do you ever think of how close Calla and Kody used to be? How sweet and bright and encouraging she was towards him when they were younger? How friendly and warm she was? How they smiled at each other? It makes me want to eat rocks.

[paperlovesadness]

I'm sitting outside in the sun in wet jeans - following advice on how to stretch denim to better fit you - making breathing room for myself and my thighs who are hated by jean sizing everywhere - and I'm getting sappy about Tumblr and fangirling and this community of lovely, unapologetically excited people I've met here.

This is something not many will probably read (long posts can be tough, I get it) - it just kind of all spilled I guess? Incoherently but with passion. So why not set it free when it's already here.

You see - I can't help but credit Tumblr as this huge part of my inner child healing journey. And particularly the girlhood part of it all.

Subconsciously & even consciously I've felt so so ashamed of these "girly" sides of me all my life. Especially in their "prime time" of my tween and teen years. I'd love things secretly - or at most - talk about them only after loudly labelling them as "guilty pleasures" (quite a terrible concept) or acting like it's all done with a tinge of self-aware irony.

But being a hopeless romantic; loving your favorite characters with your whole being; squealing over your favorite music and the musicians who make it; talking about your favorite songs and lyrics and photos; drawing, editing, making fanart of things that make your heart sore; sharing your fantasies and dreams; crying about quotes and big ideas; writing stories - those are all such beautiful things.

I've immersed myself back in the worlds of blogging and fanfiction and musical fangirling and... In many ways I haven't felt this good since I was a kid - still untouched by society and it's shaming of the endless supply of passion I had in me towards the things I loved.

And fangirls are a force. Fangirls are what made the music industry what it is. They're who discovered the Beatles and Leonard Cohen and Frank Sinatra and David Bowie - amongst so many others - and when they did the hard work - only then was it all taken over and appropriated by men who claimed only they can "truly and objectively" appreciate it.

It's girls - bright, unapologetically excited, passionate girls who care for pretty things and things with a soul and things with a story, with romantic connotations - girls who love to curate aesthetically pleasing landscapes and spaces around themselves - it's those girls who contributed hugely to an actual analogue photography and vinyl pressing revival & re-popularization.

I'm in my late twenties. I've only recently let myself pierce my ears and start wearing makeup sometimes. And care openly about my appearance and fashion choices. It's very much still all queer coded and slightly gender-mixed. Because that's me. But caring about these things has always been categorized as a "girl thing" = therefore = shameful, shallow, not something to be proud of.

I'm continuously curing my incredibly hurtful and internally misogynistic complex of "not being like other girls". There are still biases and automatic-judgements I'm fighting on the daily. But it's become so much clearer and easier to do so.

Im more ways than one I want to be exactly like other girls. I want to grab the hands of all the fangirls around this site and dance with them in a circle and tell them they look great whatever they choose to look like and I want to sit down in a meadow and make flower crowns together and squeal over our favorite things.

And to be clear I'm not saying be girly. I'm saying embrace you inner girlhood.

And that could be so many things. Just... Never be ashamed of the parts of it that society deems shallow and embarrassing or worthless.

And just... Thank you for being girlies with me 💗

(girlies & girls as usual used as more of a state of my mind and being; not a strictly gendered term. This applies in all, most or many ways to queer people & of course non-binary and trans experiences).

[iceeericeee]

I wonder how many tags i can add on to this

[gamifly]

Are you taking any tangled the series Varian art requests please let me know

I’ll be honest, I have never received an ask like this in all my years on this cursed site so it has taken me a while to think of how to respond. :P

I’m not well known as an artist on here (or anywhere for that matter) and am probably not the best person to ask for a request tbh just due to my turn around time and busy work schedule.

All of this waffling to say that it depends on the request. I’m happy to accept a suggestion however may feel it’s beyond me so may not be able to complete it.

Thank you very much for the ask and the over confidence in my artistic skills! (Don’t mean to put myself down I’ve just never gotten an ask that implies this in the past)