#platform on ao3

[tojiluv]

𝐎𝐑𝐘. . . twenty-three. she/her. middle-eastern. (n)sfw blog. minors dni 17+. multifandom. the biggest sailor moon fan ever.

୨୧ CARRD. RULES. MASTERLIST. TAGLIST.

❥ 𝐑𝐄𝐂𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒. requests open!

01. overflowing affection — inuyasha & sesshomaru

02. cold night — inuyasha various

03. unveiling love — uchiha clan

© 𝐭𝐨𝐣𝐢𝐥𝐮𝐯 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

[ricochetyears]

self-promoting thursday bc this is an ao3 war and we die like regulus black (that’s a lie he’s happy and alive)

ac: sophithil

[the-travelling-witch]

guys, they legally can’t release us into the wild

[bri-cheeses]

Fiercely and obsessively (wrapped around your finger) — Part 10

| Rosekiller Soulmate AU | Previous part is here | Word Count: 1,210 |

-

At first, Barty didn’t understand what he was seeing. Surely he would’ve noticed it before now if Evan had met his soulmate? He’d had plenty of opportunities to see Evan’s mark since his birthday, so how did he miss this?

“Oh,” Barty said, but it came out all strangled and high pitched. Because he’d just realized the true extent of what this situation meant—if Evan’s soulmate mark was no longer black, that meant that he had a soulmate.

Evan had a soulmate.

Barty was hit with such a strong wave a jealously that it left him somewhat breathless, but he still managed to choke out the words, “Who is it?”

Was that why Evan had been acting so strange around him? Because he didn’t want to be as close to Barty now that he had someone else?

Evan’s voice tore Barty’s attention away from his arm and to his face, where he was looking at him strangely.

“You don’t know?” Evan asked. He sounded confused.

“I—should I?” And then, a horrible thought struck him. “It’s not Reg, is it?”

Evan’s laughter caught him off guard.

“What?” Barty asked frantically as Evan doubled over and wheezed uncontrollably. Surely that hadn’t been that outlandish of a question, had it?

“You thought it was Regulus?” Evan gasped with tears in his eyes.

“Well, I don’t know! All I know is that one second you’re crying into my shoulder and the next you apparently have a soulmate and I don’t know what’s going on!”

“Barty,” Evan said, finally calming himself down. “Look at your arm.”

Why Evan wanted him to look at his arm was lost on him, but after several seconds of confused silence, he did as he was told.

“No, Barty, not that one,” Evan said a bit impatiently. Barty sighed in defeat, then looked over to his left arm.

And froze.

Because there on his upper arm, exposed for all the world to see, was his soulmate mark, alive and bright with swirling colors.

Colors that matched Evan’s.

A series of images flashed into his mind. His fist in Evan’s shirt. Evan’s hands, shoving him backwards. The way they had fallen, Evan’s hands reaching out to catch his fall, and the inside of his arm grazing Barty’s bare bicep as they went down.

Oh, he thought.

And slowly, ever so slowly, he looked back up at Evan.

Evan, his best friend of six years. Evan, who he had loved fiercely and obsessively as long as he had known him. Who he had always felt differently about than all of his other friends, who he never wanted to be separated from, who he was in constant contact with because he simply couldn’t help himself. Who he had always gravitated towards, no matter the circumstances or company.

Evan, who was looking at him nervously and waiting for his reaction.

Barty took a step forward so that he was standing in Evan’s personal space. Evan winced slightly, but he didn’t move back. Not even when Barty reached a reverent hand up to cup his cheek and hold his gaze steady on his, eyelashes fluttering just slightly as he stared at Barty with parted lips.

“I am going to ask you about so many different things later,” Barty said, “but right now, I think I might actually die if I don’t kiss you somewhere in the next three seconds.”

Evan breathed out a soft “Oh”, but that was as far as he got before Barty’s crashed his lips into his, effectively cutting him off.

Evan hands came up to rest on Barty’s waist, pulling him in eagerly, and all Barty could think was “Yes, this is right.” How he had missed that before, he had no idea, but here with Evan’s lips moving against his, Barty could think of no place he’d rather be.

Evan pulled away first, gasping for air. Barty would’ve been worried except for the fact that his eyes were bright as he looked at Barty and nowhere else, seemingly drinking in every last detail of this moment.

“You,” said Evan, still breathing heavily, “have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

Barty grinned.

“Then show me,” he said, and Evan did just that.

Hours later, after many kisses and long conversations, Barty was starting to feel like everything in the world was suddenly making sense.

Apparently, Evan had been in love with him for years, ever since the first year of school when Barty had helped him out with a difficult spell in Charms.

“At first,” Evan had said, “I had just written it off as a harmless crush. But you’ve got a real way of wrapping people around your finger, you know that?”

“Not people,” Barty had responded. “Just you.”

That had earned him another kiss.

And then Evan had explained why he’d been acting so oddly for the past few weeks, saying that he had been hoping for years that Barty was his soulmate, and the stress of soon knowing whether or not that would turn out to be true had eaten away at him. And once he had finally gotten his soulmate mark, he had avoided touching Barty because he hadn’t wanted to touch him and not have their marks light up, proclaiming them as nothing more than friends.

”Good thing the universe was smart enough to overcome all the obstacles you threw in its way,” Barty had laughed.

That had earned him a shove.

On Barty’s end, there was a lot of confusion. When he had fallen in love with Evan, he didn’t know, because now that he noticed it, it felt like something that had always been there, lurking just below the surface. And why he hadn’t noticed it until now, he couldn’t say either—just that he hadn’t.

But it had been apparent in almost everything he did, from the way he acted around Evan to the way he became jealous whenever anyone else showed interest in him. It had always been there, he just hadn’t been aware.

“Good thing the universe was smart enough to overcome all your stupidity,” Evan had parroted.

Which earned him a shove as well, followed by another kiss.

Overall, it was a much overdue conversation, and when they emerged form the woods to go find their friends, they couldn’t stop the happy and satisfied smiles they wore as they walked close together.

Dorcas had noticed first.

“Thank Salazar,” she had breathed, looking back and forth between Evan and Barty. From Regulus, Barty could’ve sworn he heard an exasperated, “Finally”, and really, had they all been waiting for this moment?

His confusion must’ve shown on his face, because Pandora had laughed and said, “Yes, we all knew, and we were all tired of it. Which is why we staged a slight intervention.”

“Intervention?” Evan asked, and then seemed to realize something. He looked around in betrayal. “You purposefully left us alone together, didn’t you?”

Dorcas nodded gleefully.

“That we did, and don’t even pretend that you’re not grateful for it.”

And really, how could Barty argue with that, when thanks to their meddling he had found his soulmate?

And judging from the way Evan blushed and leaned in to peck Barty on the cheek, he felt the exact same way.

-

(The End!)

[trappedinafantasy37]

We did it guys! Minthara is in the top 100 most mentioned video game characters on Tumblr, sitting comfortably at rank 55!

With Astarion at rank 1 (cause of course), Gale at 5, Shadowheart at 6, Karlach at 8, Lae'zel at 9, Wyll at 12, Halsin at 16, Tav at 19, Gortash at 47, and The Dark Urge at 67. Baldur's Gate 3 is also the most talked about video game on this platform, as well as the 6th most talked about thing on all of Tumblr!

I wish Minthara was higher, but you know what, I'm happy she's on there at all! It is also interesting that she ranks higher than Durge and that Durge is that low on the list. It's also pretty interesting that there is such a discrepancy between Durge and Gortash as Durgetash is also the 67th most talked about ship on the platform. It is quite an achievement that our favorite drow is even on that list at all.

It is all just making me think back to some of the more dejecting AO3 statistics with Minthara almost being a blip, practically a statistical outlier in some ways. Even some insignificant side characters got more attention and adoration than her, or had numbers that would compare to her. But Tumblr is a much bigger platform than AO3, containing a much wider array of topics (including fanfics). So for Baldur's Gate 3 and Minthara to stand out that much is really saying something! Reading these statistics on Tumblr does go to show that one platform does not represent the entire fandom and that AO3 is only a piece of the picture.

[shakertwelve]

i do think it’s notable that even people who are really invested in worm shipping don’t seem to have the pair-the-spares instinct about the undersiders. no one is ever posting lisa/rachel even if they believe they’re both gay, let alone trying to push one of them at brian if they like the other more with taylor

[evidenceof]

i have just said something ridiculous to you

Joe Toye has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, and a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Miles deep into 2nd Battalion's march to Atlanta, George Luz hears an Irish song from across their frozen campground.

happiest holidays, @blood-mocha-latte, my hbo war 2025 secret santa baby!! ♡ crossing my fingers and hoping i did their voices/headspaces justice. this present is brought to you by equal parts mary oliver's 'i have just said,' that you love, and toye's atlanta march predicament™. i very humbly give to you my very first luztoye fic.

I have just said something ridiculous to you and in response, your glorious laughter. - 'I Have Just Said' by Mary Oliver

-----------------------------------

December 1, 1942 | 2330 hours Campgrounds, 38 miles from Fort Benning

The butter tastes like nothing on his frozen tongue. George winces at the thin oily film it leaves behind in his mouth after he swallows. Too fucking cold, everything was too fucking cold. A ragged chuckle saws its way through his throat while he watches Perco fight a losing battle against his hard slice of bread. Eventually, he rips it in half, elbow colliding with the tent wall and almost costing them their flimsy shelter. A hundred and fifteen miles and they had to survive off of stale bread and pats of butter.

“The way we live you’d think we’re already at the front of the fucking lines.” Perco’s voice was muffled under a thick scarf. “I don’t know what’s worse. This or shit on a shingle.”

“Come on, we got it made.” George lights a cigarette, and flicks off his lighter in an attempt to sweep away any talk of war. “Sightseeing the backcountry, free food, free clothes. These fuckin’ boots? Babies are the best in General Patton's Third Army, so I’ve heard.” His boot lands back on the cold ground with a pathetic thump from where he lifted it. 

“Aw, shut up, Luz.” Perco shoves him backwards, hard, half a slice of bread still in his hand, but with a grin already plastered on his face.

Just barely missing the tent wall, George regains his balance. “All right, all right. Jeez,” he laughs. He presses his hand on Perco’s head to push himself up, earning him a scowl. “Gonna go find a fire before this thing collapses on us.”

The flap of the tent all but snaps in half when he throws it open. Ice crackles down the drab green canvas like peanut brittle. Outside, cold air smacks against George’s face as he takes in the columns of tents around him that stand frosted and gleaming in the moonlight. The temperature had dropped earlier in the afternoon, but tomorrow promised worse terrain because, as far as George was concerned, God had abandoned 2nd Battalion specifically. Why else would they be the only ones walking all the way to fucking Atlanta? There's thirty eight more miles and not nearly enough bad Sobel impressions in George’s back pocket to last them that far.

With a single drag, he polishes off the remainder of his cigarette. Squinting, he spots Lip and Guarnere in the middle of what looks like an attempt at walking without having to bend their knees. Their frosty puffs of breath mirror the smoke he exhales. He sees Lip’s hand raise to greet him at the same time a bad tune cuts across the field, louder than the muffled grousing from inside the pup tents. Only George whips his head towards the direction of the sound.

“Luz, what’re you up to?” Lip’s voice is firm. George doesn’t see, but he hears the smile in it.

“Better not be doin’ anything fuckin’ stupid. I’m goddamn tired of that pansy chicken-shit officer breathing down my neck all fuckin’ day,” spits Guarnere, digging his hands deeper into his pockets. “Sobel, I mean. Winters ain’t no chicken-shit at least.”

George doesn't expect the polite chuckle from Lip who's quick to follow it up with a stern, “Bill.” At that, Guarnere raises an eyebrow like a demanding child, a look that George knows he never let his ma see. “But he’s right, keep your head outta trouble, Luz. Got enough to deal with while Toye’s relegated to K.P,” continues Lip with a grimace.

George tips his head in the direction of the broken Irish song still flitting in the air. “That him?” The scowl on Guarnere’s face is confirmation enough. “What’d he do?”

“Go ask him if you’re so fuckin’ curious,” Guarnere sneers. “Hey, I’m serious Luz. Give Sobel an excuse to take away passes and I’ll shove a trench knife up your ass.”

George knuckles his forehead to mock-salute Guarnere and gives Lip a wink. “I’ll behave for you, Bill,” he sing-songs. It only takes him a second to quash his finished cigarette under his boot before his feet start moving towards the sound almost involuntarily. He finds Toye hunched over a fire, chin resting on his legs that are folded in front of him. Even tucked into himself, there was something intimidating about his angles. It’s those goddamn broad shoulders of his, wide like no one’s business. Certainly not George’s. He doesn’t recognize the words Joe is singing but the tune’s familiar enough. Once or twice, he found himself straining to hear it in the Toccoa showers. It almost feels like a shame to put an end to it. Almost.

“Thought someone was dying. Your bad singing why they’re making you do this?” chides George, nudging Toye with his boot before he takes a seat on the ground. 

Toye clenches his jaw in acknowledgment, any lingering mirth vanishing from his face. “Luz,” says Toye, already exasperated. George watches him jab the weak fire with a stick. The orange glow casts shadows on his irritated face. Nothing quite like pissing off Joe Toye. He has a nice face, George thinks. Strong nose, strong brows, a scowl that George realized he liked to earn. Even with the darkness under his eyes, Toye looks sturdy.

“Aw, c’mon Toye. Not happy to see me?” His teeth chatter and Toye’s lip twitches into the beginnings of a smile. “Lighten up will ya?”

A gust of wind makes them both adjust their scarves. From under his own, Toye shakes his head before glaring at the stick in his hand. George can see him weighing out the pros and cons of throwing it into the pit. “I did. Look where that got me,” says Toye, eventually.

“Hey, least you’re warm right?” George smiles at him while dislodging a clump of dirt from the sole of his boot to throw in Toye’s direction. When it hits the side of his leg, Toye barely flinches. So it was like that, huh? George digs his heel into the hardened ground, dragging himself closer to Joe. “So what’d you do? You can trust me. Who the fuck am I gonna tell?”

Toye continues staring at the flames like they’d done something to offend him. When he doesn’t answer, George inches forward, tracking cold moisture and mud on his trousers. For a moment he’s convinced Toye isn’t paying attention, but George sees how his eye twitches in time with the sound of his ODs scritching against the ground.

“Toye. Toye. Toye. Joe Toye. C’mon, buddy. Tell good ol’ George,” he says, slightly out of breath as he continues to drag himself closer. 

Bright dots of orange float up into the inky blue night when Toye jostles the firewood with his stick. “Not sure you wanna know, Luz,” he says gravely. “What, you need new source material or something? Running out of punchlines?”

“Me? Nah. Been practicing my Strayer,” says George, grinning. He’s not sure if he imagines the little nod from Toye. “When I get that pitch perfect, it'll last us ’til we ship out at least. You’ll fuckin’ see.” There’s caked mud on the ass of his ODs, he feels it. But now Toye was in perfect prodding distance and that made the journey worth it. With his fist, George nudges him once, twice, but he still looks like a goddamn statue staring at the fire, unmoving. “C’mon Toye. What’d you do?”

Nothing prepares him for how quickly Toye swivels his body towards his. He’s so close that George feels his breath on his cheek when Toye says, “You really wanna know? How about you ask me nice, Luz? Throw in a little favor?”

“Like what…?” says George, schooling his face into seriousness. Were Toye’s lashes always this long? George swears he feels the phantom brush of them against his goddamn forehead. He isn’t proud of the way it makes him miss a beat or causes that slight tremble in his voice. Nothing he couldn’t chalk up to the cold, he thinks. And he fucking would, if anyone asks.

“Like take over with these fires for me, you fuckin’ idiot,” growls Toye in his usual low gravelly voice. The white of his teeth catches the corner of George’s eye, then the pink of his lower lip. Damn. It feels almost too late when Toye thwacks the long stick against George’s chest and he nearly falls backwards. “My arm’s falling asleep.”

Clearing his throat to pull himself together is a decision George regrets immediately. It’s raw and cold like the rest of him. But he can deal with the shards of glass lodged into his windpipe better than the fucking knots that just erupted in his stomach. What was with that? He swipes the stick and turns to face the fire so that Joe is just a smudge in his periphery. From a few feet away, he hears Lieb and Alley laughing mercilessly. The thought of them witnessing all that makes his face burn, but he reminds himself everyone’s huddled in their own pup tents.

Toye's voice, resigned now, floats from beside George suddenly. It’s soft from fatigue. “Kid wanted to know what it felt like,” he says but doesn't continue. 

“What what felt like?” George pokes the fire. There’s a hiss and crackle of wood before Toye replies.

“What it’s like to pick up a skirt,” mumbles Toye, sounding embarrassed, forgiving maybe. “Says he gets nervous easy. He’s a buddy of mine from Dog Company, knew him from Pennsylvania, worked the coal mines together. He’s… you know? All stiff-like. Kinda like—”

“Like Winters?” George answers. “The fuck is wrong with you people from Pennsylvania. You born with a complimentary stick up your ass or what?” George wonders if that was too much, but he hears a huff from beside him—a sound that, from his limited knowledge, is the closest thing Toye gets to laughing. There’s a giddiness in his chest that tells him he’s been wanting to hear that for a while.

“Yeah. Yeah, like Lieutenant Winters,” replies Toye, less grave now. George turns to find him smiling down at the ground almost sleepily. It triggers a fresh set of knots right below George’s belly. It makes sense that the guy would ask Toye, George decides. With a face like that, eyes like that, he could bring home just about anyone he wanted. “Tells me he gets jittery, that friend of mine. Loses his fucking words. Needs practice. Needs advice,” says Toye. 

“Just need a face like yours.” It tumbles out of George’s mouth automatically. God, he wanted to shove one of the burning logs down his throat. But if Toye heard, he didn’t show it. Recovering, George continues, “What’d you tell him?”

Calm as anything, Toye lifts one shoulder in a shrug. “I didn’t. Gave him a little practical exercise and pushed the guy against a wall,” he says with an even voice. From where he’s turned, the fire illuminates only a portion of his face. Even from a partial view, George could tell he wasn’t joking. Unsurprising; Toye rarely did. “Evans saw.”

“So he served you K.P. duty for jostling a guy? Sounds about right.” George laughs, imagining Evans’ prissy frown. “Your broads usually slam you against walls?”

As an answer, Toye smiles, all teeth, and George stops laughing. 

“It was nothing serious. Wanted to see how well he could come up with one of those lines of his in that position. Said he’s been practicing,” insists Toye. A tiny smirk tugs at the corner of his lip at the sudden shift in George’s face. “I was gentle though, but I think that was the problem. I, uh… I think he liked it.”

There was something about the image George couldn’t quite put together in his mind. He frowns. I think he liked it. 

“You shoulda seen Evans’ face. Kinda looks like yours right now actually, but less red,” Toye grins and George fights the urge to hide his head under his scarf. “Ripped my friend away from me and doled out the punishment. But really, the fucking kicker was him telling me to go see the chaplain. Fucking self-righteous asshole.”

“The chaplain? Since when the fuck do you need to—” Suddenly, it clicks in his mind, and he imagines the scene Evans must have walked into that night. Toye resting a hand against the wall beside the private’s face, the incline of his broad shoulders pointing inward, caging him. Gentle . Those big eyes and lashes too fucking close: Toye looking like the very picture of ease. Only in his head, George erases the face of the nameless PFC from Dog Company and replaces it with his own. Toye’s angles leaning towards him, lips inches away from his face, the feeling of his gravelly voice trailing from the tip of George’s nose all the way down under his shirt. He chokes a bit when he says, disbelieving, “No. Fuck, Toye. Nah, that ain’t right. What the fuck were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t,” says Toye tightly and looks up to glare at him. George can’t quite meet his eyes. “I was lightening up, remember?”

This close to the fire, George’s hands still feel like ice. “You’re insane, Joe. Fucking insane,” he says, trying to shake off the thought of Toye being close, peering up at a guy through his lashes like a dame. Suddenly, George’s trousers feel tight and his head was spinning in all possible directions.

“Didn’t hurt him. Was only trying to help. I was gentle, like I said,” Toye says lightly, voice already edged with sleep and without a trace of guilt. “Want a demonstration, Luz?”

“What, so you can get caught again? You plan on being K.P. until we’re shipped out?” George hears the higher register in his voice, and feels the way his heart rams against his sternum. He can’t look at Toye so he pokes the fire instead. A hot splinter flies onto his hand and he lets it sting, steering his full attention to the tiny patch of burning flesh.

Toye’s voice is thick with the lack of sleep, but more importantly is suddenly right behind George’s ear, brushing against the tiny hairs he didn’t know existed there. “I won’t tell if you don’t. I can keep a secret,” whispers Toye. George almost moans, but catches himself. It comes out a fumbling huff instead. The tightness of his trousers stop him from moving away.

“Well,” George tries to say. His zipper brushes against his skivvies and he almost jumps. If not for the jacket, the tented crotch area of his trousers would be on full display. Christ, he hopes Toye’s sleep-deprived enough to forget all this by the end of the march. “I can’t.” 

Toye laughs, fully now. George feels it on his nape, the hahas hitting his skin like long-burning coals. God, it felt good. 

“I’ll try it on you one day, Luz,” says Toye. George isn’t sure if he imagines Toye’s palm resting on his hip. It's too much and he feels like passing out. All the blood from his brain seems pool to right down into his crotch. It was getting harder to think, let alone respond. 

“You’re funny,” manages George eventually. Toye’s breath smells like Juicy Fruit, sweet.

“Yeah? I like surprising people like that,” says Toye, like a purr. When he moves away, Toye keeps the smile fixed on his face. The missing pressure of his hand leaves a cold mark on George’s side. So that was real. The affirmation only intensifies the heat below his stomach.

“You make a habit of shoving enlisted men against walls?” breathes George. It feels too good to keep this line of conversation going, everything in his body says so. But George couldn’t trust himself or his faculties. He was still thinking of Juicy Fruit in his mouth.

“Among other things.” Toye smirks lazily at him, and tilts his head up at the sky. George tells himself it’s the fatigue and the proximity to smoke that makes every word Toye says sound flirtatious. This fucking march had everyone acting strange, especially him.

“You are insane,” he says again, voice trembling. No way in hell was this guy a fairy. Didn’t fucking look like one anyway, all broad shouldered and angular. Nothing about him swished: not his fucking voice, or his fucking hips. Shit just don’t add up like that. But neither did the tightness in his OD trousers that didn't feel like it would disappear fast enough.

“A compliment coming from you, George.” Toye buries his face in his palms. “Fuck, I’m tired,” he says, the words drawn out of him like an exhale.

George watches his body sway slightly, tipping almost imperceptibly in and out of consciousness. “You sleep at all Joe?” Toye yawns as an answer; it shudders through him. He was just tired and spread thin, George thinks, they all were. And that got you acting different, that got you acting abnormal.

“No. But Evans still has it out for me. He’s lurking somewhere,” Toye says, not looking up from where George thinks he’s already fallen half asleep. The sharp angles of Toye’s shoulders droop, sagging under the weight of a second day without sleep. George lights another cigarette, finally, to keep his hands from doing something really fucking stupid like throwing a blanket over Toye and shoving his head onto his lap. Shit that guy from Dog Company can’t do, he thinks, feeling an odd barb of possessiveness while looking at Toye’s drooping head.

“Hey, I got this, all right?” argues George, gesturing at the growing fire.

“Shut up, Luz. I’m not looking for handouts.” But Toye’s voice dips in volume, belying the stubbornness in it.

“C’mon, Joe. You can’t be the only one handing out favors from the goodness of your heart,” George offers something like understanding. From his palms, Toye glances up at him, questioning. He’d look almost offended if he didn’t look so soft.

“Twenty minutes. Sleep. We got thirty-eight miles left in the morning and you look like shit,” continues George. Toye’s gaze doesn’t move away from him. So he stares back, feeling a little selfish, tracing Toye’s dark lashes and pink lips with his eyes. He wonders if they’ll ever get to sit this close again. “I’m saying if Evans comes around, I’ll charm him for ya.”

“Yeah?” says Toye, still looking at George, a small smile hooked on his lips. The sounds of the camp feel like they’ve all but disappeared. “Yeah. You’re good at that.”

His cigarette burns down to the filter but George continues to suck on it, unable to fish it out with his shaking hands that he’s hidden in his jacket pockets. They’re warm now, so it couldn’t have been the cold causing the trembling. He can still feel Toye’s laugh ricocheting on his neck.

Toye breaks their little staring contest and faces the fire. “Fine, twenty minutes.” 

“Sure buddy.” George watches Toye’s chin droop down onto his chest and his eyes flutter shut, lashes twitching. He’s asleep immediately. When he’s sure Toye was out cold, George fishes out a blanket from his pack and drapes the whole thing across Toye’s shoulders with a gentleness he didn’t know he had. “Take as long as you like.”

[bang-bang-gang]

when i say wrestling fandom, i do mean the shipping and transformative work and analysis that's unique to tumblr, as opposed to most other platforms. that's why AO3 is in this list, but reddit isn't. (but if you do fandom on reddit, please explain in the tags!)

if the answer is 'multiple' please vote for your primary one and elaborate in the tags! if you don't feel you're on this site enough or care about wrestling enough to feel addressed by the word 'wrestleblr' then just vote see results.

[the-racoon-over-your-stairs]

Ivantill fans. Ivantill fans, alnst fans help me. Recommend me something.

i NEED a fic of Ivan getting comforted in some way, any way, please preferably let this man cry but like it doesn't matter pls I just need a fanfiction where Ivan is the focus of the comfort rather than the source.

[hypermascbishounen]

man i am real sick of people seeing any complaints/criticisms about an adaptation, and taking that as a personal attack on them if they liked it. Just bc people don't like the thing you do, doesn't mean they're being hostile, or gatekeeping, or mean.

They do not need to justify not enjoying something, or to shut up so you never have to see negativity. If you do not like seeing people have opinions that aren't your own, it's on you to block them, not on them to not post how they feel about the latest big thing in the fandom they've probably been in for years, possibly decades.

[creampuffqueen]

my current position as someone who is a sort of well known creator in a niche fandom within a larger, very popular fandom leads to some... interesting? situations. like:

finding out my work was a frequent topic of conversation in a discord server i joined (people are perceiving me???)

seeing someone in a tiktok comment section say they've read all the fanfiction in the tag i write for, and realizing there's a high likelihood this random person has read my work

someone on twitter tried to cancel me? except it didn't work and i only found out like six months after the fact because i don't use twitter

[aroaceleovaldez]

reminder/tip, particularly for newer pjo fans: do not crosstag!

for those who don't know, crosstagging is tagging irrelevant tags on a post, usually popular tags to try and get more views on the post.

Tumblr doesn't work the same way instagram or tiktok or twitter does. Crosstagging is considered spam, and your blog will be flagged if you do this.

particularly in pjo fandom, crosstagging includes tagging characters that don't actually appear in the post, tagging books or series unrelated to the post (like tagging "TSATS" on a post not specifically about TSATS, or tagging HoO on a post about first series specifically, etc.), tagging "pjo fanfic" or "pjo headcanon" or similar on a post that, obviously, isn't that, and/or tagging irrelevant ships. More recently, this also includes tagging the show (PJO TV, etc) on posts that are completely irrelevant to the show.

This mostly only applies for original posts - Tags you put on reblogs only apply to your own blog's organizational system, and has no bearing on the original post itself. But it's really annoying to the original poster if you spam tags, because it will appear in their notifs. It's pointless to spam tags in reblogs for these reasons regardless, so it's best not to.

just remember: crosstagging is not allowed on tumblr, doesn't work that way here anyways, and is just generally rude. so don't do it.

[cassiasims]

have recently realised that the reason why i struggle to seriously ship kevin with anyone in aftg is because i find the idea of him perpetually third-wheeling to be too funny. sorry kevin

[destinationtoast]

I stumbled upon this... Thing by what looks like an actual journalism outfit, or at least their infographics wing. Thoughts?

https://pudding.cool/2024/10/fanfic/

Sighhhhh. Thanks for sharing this link (and then waiting three months for a reply, lol). I happened to have seen this one near to when it came out, but I am always glad to have people share such things with me!

So I have complicated, but partly "ARGH," thoughts about this article. And I ranted about it in some detail in Slack when I first read it. I initially didn't reply to this ask because I was trying to go back through the logs to find some of my specific past complaints, but they were lost to the mists of the Slack paywall. But here is my main complaint, roughly approximating the way that I probably ranted in Slack, for your enjoyment/excess punctuation needs:

There's so much data visualization here! And ship artwork, and interactivity, and more -- so much time clearly went into this!! But it's over-extrapolating!! from one data set!! of the top ships on onLY ONE FANDOM PLATFORM!!!! About which they gave no caveats or historical context when extrapolating to "what fans ship and why"!!!!!! When a bunch of fans have written about what fans ship and why, and in some cases gathered data about how platforms differ, and some other fandom journalists have cited that work!!!!!!! Why did these folks not do more research first before diving into all that data visualization, especially if they're journalists???????? ARGH.

But also...

At the same time, this is it's so close to just being really cool! There is some nifty analysis in here, including about things like canonicity and changes over time! I want more of this kind of deep dive out there, and more analysis, and more visualization! And there are some cool links to both scholarly and journalistic writing about fandom, in addition to citing/making use of Lulu's demographically detailed AO3 ship stats. So it's an interesting meaty read, if you keep in mind the limitations.

@olderthannetfic and I co-presented at GeekGirlCon 2019 about differences among some popular fandom platforms (among other things). Here is one of the most relevant graphs for caveating the Pudding article about shipping and "what fandom ships":

Franzi has also gathered a bunch of other data on differences between AO3 and FFN, and her earlier work on platform differences inspired some of my cross-platform comparisons about shipping, genres, languages. (@olderthannetfic please chime in with other relevant links if you want to, especially if you have more recent data!)

One of the things the Pudding shared that I found interesting was their comparison between the most common tags in M/M, F/M, and F/F:

[x] Nice to see more than just the top 10 tags, and interesting to see them categorized. I have gathered some related data about common AO3 tags in each of these categories, but I have to finish writing that up and sharing it. (That's one of my WIP resolutions for this year.) But I did share some data about the differences in the relative amount of use of smutty and kinky tags on AO3 between the three shipping categories:

(A commenter recently reminded me of one of my conclusions: "Everyone has butts, but only pairs of dudes seem very likely to touch or lick or fuck them." XD )

I find it interesting that F/M fic is most likely to tag Rough Sex and D/s! But of course, tagging behavior is not the same as what's being written about. And this is just AO3 data, and sometimes relatively low numbers of it, so definitely not representative of fandom at large. :)

(...this all this reminds me how much I want to get back to this work and look more at other differences between the shipping categories!)

ANYWAY. That was possibly a longer answer than you wanted, and several months later than you were probably expecting. XD But I appreciate you sharing the link and asking!

[space-writes]

shameless self promotion sunday

tagged by @foxboyclit and @thegreatobsesso, thank you both!

i love all my fics but also i do in fact do other things sometimes, and i’m really quite proud of my little neocities site. it’s not perfect, and it’s very much a work in progress, but the parts that are done I really like!

i have all my fic up on there, and a load of my playlists (with meta commentary on some!), plus I made sections for Obedience and obsession that have some very neat looking character pages...i love tinkering with html and css, and i love having a project that is purely for fun and not remotely about demonstrating any kind of skill.

i've really enjoyed solving such puzzles as 'how to make a horizontal menu bar' and 'how to make a reactive image grid'

anyway i just like my lil hand-coded stick-figure of a website, and if anyone else has a neocities let me know, i wanna put you in my list of friend links~

no-pressure tagging @oh-no-another-idea @chauceryfairytales @reneesbooks and @talesfromaurea to do some shameless self promotion (on a sunday or any other day, all days are good for singing your own praises)

[distancingreality]

you know it's been like six years and occasionally (more than I should) I think about my Obidala fanfic I'd say yes but you wouldn't want me anyway where I explore the iconic thigh stroke

and I'm still not over this

the comments I got on ff.net:

vs the comments I got on ao3: