#platform bracket

[tianjinwellmadescaffold]

Service Bracket -Formwork Work Platform Bracket - Scaffold Wall Bracket ...

[hotfudgecherryrosy]

im tired of scrolling through my code because java sucks

im going to use evil programming methods

edit: predictably, this broke my code

[gingerdusk]

Writing help again. Can you see the parentheses around this:

[wiki-howell]

guess who managed to mention dnp in his a level media exam 🔥🔥

[divinedomainn]

Stream and Scream | reader x multiple men

play previous song? || ◁ PART 1 ▷ || play next song?

summary : After another horny stream, you drop the bomb: fuck-a-fan fridays—seven weeks, seven fans, seven filthy videos. masks on, faces hidden, just you and one lucky subscriber tangled up on camera each week. All they have to do? strip down, get hard, and show you why it should be them. Auditions start now.

contains : camgirl!reader x a whole ass roster, rotating cast, university AU, smut, porn with kinda a crack plot, casual sex, anonymous sex, exhibitionism, recording, oral sex, piv sex, rough kinky sex, everyone wants to fuck reader, horny simp men

A/N : and so it starts!!! is everyone ready to see the submissions from your favorite horndogs? :) (also i hope you can tell whose who hehehe) i'm trying to keep the writing inclusive for every sort of female presenting person so let me know how i've done!

The next few weeks passed in a blur of lace, lube, and direct deposits that made your head spin. What had started as a desperate half-joke had morphed into a full-blown empire - your empire. The girl who once contemplated selling her underwear for gas money was now clearing rent, tuition, groceries, and still had enough left over to drop serious coin on clothes and silk bed sheets.

You’d gone to the next level. Your friends were of course benefitting from your suspiciously newfound wealth, you casually said you had found a better part-time job, never letting them know the truth when you decided to take them shopping. Not yet at least.

Private requests were your bread and butter. You weren’t just good anymore - you were a professional tease, a digital siren with a library of toys, outfits, and vocal tones that could bring grown men to their knees. They paid for everything; soft whispers, rough talk, slow stroking, filthy roleplays. Some just oddly wanted to hear your moans on loop. Others wanted personalized videos where you called them by username and told them exactly what you’d do if they ever had the balls to show up in person.

You were making big bank. Like “accidental tax bracket change” big. Like “should probably consult a financial advisor” big.

And the men?

Oh, the men were obsessed.

Especially the regulars. Their usernames lit up your screen night after night, tipping with reckless abandon, flooding the chat with unfiltered thirst. You didn’t know who they were in real life, yet, but their personalities bled through the screen in such vivid, chaotic little ways.

EmoWithaBoner was yearning. Desperate in a way that made your chest clench and your thighs twitch. His messages were usually soft, almost sweet - You deserve everything, You looked so beautiful tonight - until something cracked open inside him mid-message and he’d type something crazy like: I would lick your cunt until you beg me to stop. Now that had gotten a small “Oh.” out of you. He wanted to worship you and ruin you all at once.

SixEyesOnly was a fucking menace. Flirty, cocky, constantly sending emojis that were way too smug for someone probably watching with only one hand available. His tips were ridiculous, like, spend $300 just to watch you eat grapes in a bad wig slowly sort of ridiculous, and his messages read like he was trying to fluster you on purpose. You assumed it was some sort of control thing with him, throwing money at people and getting them to do it. No complaints from you.

TempleOfSin was smooth, a little poetic, a little filthy. He asked for long, descriptive videos where you described what you were wearing, how you’d touch him, how you'd taste. He liked to also order roleplay videos where you pretended to worship him like he was some sort of God. Sometimes he called you his loyal little follower. You didn’t ask questions.

daddyissuez was feral. No other word for it. His requests were blunt, primal, always toeing the line of what the platform allowed and your own, now lacking, self-control. He liked spit, degradation, and power games. His tipping was sporadic and a lot less compared to the others, though, it was enough to keep him in your attention.

OfficeAfterHours was different. Polite. Polished. His messages came like little business memos laced with innuendo. “You looked stunning tonight. That color suits you,” followed by a $200 tip telling you to buy more in the same color. Never crude, always composed. It made him stand out more, somehow. Like a man who didn’t need to beg. A man who expected what he wanted, and always got it.

And then there was KingOfRot.

Unpredictable. Crude. Arrogant. He dropped tips like they were nothing. $500 just because you looked at the camera in a way he said was like a ‘deer in the headlights’. Odd, but $500 was a good amount to keep your mouth shut. He called you “pet,” “whore,” “delicious little thing.” You should’ve blocked him. Instead, you kept reading his messages twice over with your jaw unhinged and in wonderment whether or not he actually said that. His energy was intense and you hated how hot that was.

Which brings us to tonight.

You were perched in your new silk sheets, ring light warm against your skin, wearing your most transparent slip where your nipples were clearly on display and a smug little smirk behind that now iconic mask of yours. You’d hyped this stream for days - teased it on your feed, hinted at it in DMs. The chat was already on fire and you hadn’t even said a word yet. Tonight was a big one.

EmoWithaBoner: god ur so fucking hot tonight SixEyesOnly: i logged in 15 minutes early and i still feel late :(( OfficeAfterHours: You’ve outdone yourself this evening. KingOfRot: Come on, get to the fucking point, girl.

You grinned, slow and lethal, dragging your fingers along your inner thigh and ignoring KingOfRot.

“Well,” you purred, “I figured since you’ve all been very generous lately… it’s time I give something back.”

SixEyesOnly: oh fuck You licked your lips, loving the short little power trip it gave you. “I’ve been thinking,” you said, voice sweet and dangerous. “Maybe it’s time to start a little… tradition.”

You paused for dramatic effect.

“Fuck-a-Fan Fridays.” You bit your lip. Boom. Chat detonation. SixEyesOnly had sent you $200 just for the phrase.

EmoWithaBoner: you’re joking SixEyesOnly: oh shit baby TempleOfSin: Perfect. KingOfRot: You say when and where, pet. daddyissuez: i’ll be first. fuck the line OfficeAfterHours: I trust you've thought this through..

You leaned in close. OfficeAfterHours was cute in the way he was concerned for you. “I mean, why stop at one, right?” You giggled, cheeks burning behind your mask as you kicked your feet a little bit out of the view of your webcam. “I was gonna keep it casual, but um… yeah. What if I made it a thing? Like, a series?”

Another pause. You leaned in even closer, lowering your voice to a conspiratorial whisper that still carried heat.

“One fan. Every Friday. For seven weeks.”

You crossed your bare legs over one another, your slip rising on your thighs as you did so. “Seven Fridays. Seven people. Seven chances to fuck the brains out of a very nervous, very willing woman who cannot believe she’s actually saying this live right now.”

You sat up again, brushing the slip back into place like your nipples weren’t clearly on display.

“I mean..obviously, we’ll keep it anonymous. Like, we’re not stupid here. Masks. No faces. Just hands. Bodies. And my camera.” The chat was still in full meltdown, comments stacking so fast the shitty platform could barely keep up. Your heart was pounding, your skin warm and tingling from the high of it all—of watching them fall apart just from your voice, your words, the soft shift of silk and skin. You hadn’t even done anything explicit yet, and they were on their knees.

God, it was addictive.

You stretched your arms overhead with a soft sigh, the movement pulling your slip just high enough to tease your hips. A final little gift before the curtain dropped.

“I think that’s enough for tonight,” you said with a giggle, feigning innocence even as your gaze sparkled with something much dirtier. “You guys are gonna give me a heart attack.” SixEyesOnly: no no no don’t leave yettt!! :(( KingOfRot: You owe me for the buildup, woman. You tilted your head, lips curving into a sweet little smile as you leaned forward, giving them just one more generous view of your tits before the curtains closed.

“But before I go…” you said, voice slipping into something quieter, softer, like a secret you didn’t mean to share. “If you’re serious about Fuck-a-Fan Fridays… I want you to show me.”

The pause that followed had its own kind of weight. You watched the chat stall for half a second. The anticipation was thick enough to choke on.

“Send me a message,” you murmured, “with a picture. No face. Just your body, and cock, obviously.”

You let your fingers trail down your own torso, to your hips, your thighs, hinting at what you wanted to see. “Let me see what I’d be touching.. What I’ll be fucked braindead by.” EmoWithaBoner: fuck i’ll take a hundred SixEyesOnly: don’t lose your mind too much baby KingOfRot: It’ll be mine you dream about when you touch yourself. OfficeAfterHours: Submission will follow shortly. No face. Clean framing. High quality.

You had to laugh—giddy and a little breathless. You honestly didn’t think they’d go this feral.

“Think of it as an audition,” you said, tucking your knees to your chest, playing sweet again. “Show me what you’re offering. How you’d fit against me. In me.”

You smoothed your hand up your own thigh, lazily now, teasing.

“And just so you know,” you added with a little grin, “I’m only really looking at the ones who’ve tipped enough to keep my attention. You know who you are.”

Oh, they most definitely did.

The seven of them were already scrambling—photos incoming, tips rolling, blood leaving their brains. You didn’t need names. Their usernames were burned into your memory. Their obsessions with you were paying your bills.

“Goodnight, boys,” you whispered. “Impress me.” The second you ended the stream, you collapsed backward into your pillows with a dazed little laugh, limbs spread like you’d just run a marathon and won a gold medal in filth. The glow from your laptop cast a soft haze across your legs, the screen already lighting up with the chaos you’d left behind—tips still pouring in, messages stacking, your inbox begging for attention.

And the photos?

Oh, they were already flooding in, from people you didn’t want, but it was there regardless - upping your activity.

You rolled onto your stomach, chin resting in your palm as you clicked open the first one with a half-curious, half-unhinged smile.

No face, just like you asked. Neck down. The guy was standing in front of a mirror, one hand wrapped tight around his cock, the other lifting his hoodie to show off his chest. His abs were flexed. His cock hard enough to cast a shadow.

You blinked. Let out a slow breath.

“…Damn.”

Another one came in. Different guy, different vibe—tattoos on his hips, hand slick and stroking himself in a dimly lit bathroom, captioned: Fridays look good on me. Want to see how I look underneath you?

“Oh my god,” you whispered, laughing as you pulled your legs up behind you. “This is real. I’m really doing this.”

And you were. One fan. Every Friday. Seven weeks. Seven videos. Each one getting posted to your feed, available for your hundreds of subscribers to watch, rewatch, tip on, comment under, and probably break their dicks to.

It wasn’t just a hookup. It was content. Premium content.

Still riding the rush, you opened your messaging panel and started typing.

New Mass Message Sent to All Subscribers:

Hey babes— If you missed the stream tonight (rip to you), here’s your official invite.

Fuck-a-Fan Fridays is happening. Starting next week, I’ll be choosing seven of you to spend one very intimate night with me. Every Friday for the next seven weeks, I’ll be posting a new video. One fan. One full-length scene. Just me… and whoever impresses me the most.

How to audition:- Send me a photo. - Neck down only. No faces. Masks will be worn on camera, so full anonymity will be protected. But I need to see everything. Cock out. Hard. Your body. Your vibe. The way you'd look on camera—underneath me, on top of me, behind me, inside me.

Show off a little. Or a lot.

Make me want it. Let the auditions begin.

xoxo,

—Your girl

taglist : @frozenmallows @90s-belladonna @moncher-ire @kunareads @blublublubby @grignardsreagent @soozeu @mochiivqi @sweetsformysoul @killak9mi @celloccino @gurlhere4fluff @syubseokie

[angeldgillweb]

Votre accueil à Bitkine me va droit au coeur.

Votre accueil à Bitkine me va droit au coeur.

Je suis conscient des difficultés auxquelles le département est confronté.

Mon ambition est de vous redonner espoir, de vous faire croire au Tchad , et en notre capacité de réussite, ici, chez vous.

campagne présidentielle du 06 mai 2024

[rrysbabydoll]

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader.

Synopsis: Y/N and harry attend a festival together.

You were giddy the moment you heard , a festival, at night, under the stars, and with Harry.

You’d barely eaten dinner, more interested in curling your hair into soft waves and painting your nails a baby pink that you made him hold up to the light and admire, tugging on one of your sleeves after you forced him to kiss your knuckle like a prince. You twirled in front of him in your miniskirt and red race jacket, bouncing on your toes.

Now, you were here, the soft bass from the stage vibrating up your legs and into your chest as you walked through the dark field, glowy wristbands everywhere, laughter and cheers floating above it all.

You walked with Harry’s team, Kid Harpoon beside him, Yaffra chatting with someone behind you, but your eyes stayed locked on Harry. He wore a navy blue hoodie with a purple cap over his head, a blue jacket over that, and dark jeans. Just enough to blend in, but everyone still could tell it was him. That long-legged walk. That calm presence.

You, however, stuck out like a glitter sticker. Little bows in your hair, lips glossed and shiny, lace-trimmed socks inside your platform sneakers. You clung to Harry’s hand as the crowd thickened. When someone bumped into you, you instinctively stepped forward into his back, hands braced against his broad jacket.

Without even turning around, he reached back, fingers wrapping around your wrist gently before tugging you beside him. “Stay with me, baby,” he murmured.

“I am,” you said, leaning close so only he could hear.

You had to skip a few steps to keep up with his long stride.

You nearly trip once, but Harry turns around quick, placing both hands on your waist, steadying you. “Eyes up, lovie. Y’alright?”

You nod and smile, cheeks flushed.

Once you finally reach the barricade, you breathe a sigh of relief. The lights on the stage flicker, and the music swells, crowd surging in excitement, but Harry’s still there, behind you now, arms bracketing your sides so you don’t get pushed.

You turn to grin up at him, giddy. “We made it!”

He hums, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Knew we would.”

The lights from the stage painted the air around you in candy colors, neon pink, lime green, soft lilac. Harry stood behind you, both hands on your shoulders, firm and safe, gently swaying to the music. You pressed your back into him, feeling the warmth through all his layers.

But it didn’t take long before you got warm, too. You were moving with the rhythm, hair bouncing, cheeks flushed, the crowd around you electric and loud and alive.

With a little pout, you pulled at your zipper. “Harry…”

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked.

You tugged your red race jacket off your shoulders, and he immediately took it from you before it could fall. “Too hot,” you said, brushing your hair off your neck.

He nodded, folding the jacket over his arm. “Got it. Tell me if you need water, yeah?”

You hummed, distracted by the music.

A few songs later, he shrugs out of his own jacket. Then his hoodie. Now in just a light grey short-sleeved shirt that clings to his torso, the biceps situation is… serious.

Your eyes trace the curve of his arm. The flex of muscle as he moves. And then, while he's pulling off the hoodie, the hem of his shirt rides up a little. Just enough to flash a sliver of tan skin and the butterfly tattoo.

You gasp before you can stop yourself.

His head whips around, catching you staring.

“Really?” he laughs. “You see it every day.”

You blink up at him, unabashed. “Gotta appreciate beauty when it’s there.”

Harry snorts, eyes crinkling.

You crept closer like you couldn’t help it. You stood next to him, grabbed onto his arm with both hands, and just… hugged it. Pressed your cheek to it. He didn’t even blink.

Then, when he wasn’t looking, you reached up and pulled his tattooed arm around your neck like a headlock, tucking yourself right under it.

Kid Harpoon saw and burst out laughing, nudging Harry in the ribs.

Harry blinked down at you, eyebrows raised, then let out a shocked little laugh. “What am I gonna do with you?”

You just blink up at him with wide eyes and a sugary little smile.

He shook his head and pretended to scold, “Have some decency.”

“They are mine,” you mumbled, burying your face into his side.

He squeezed your shoulder, pulling you in tighter. “You’re a menace,” he whispered, but his smile said otherwise.

When a breeze swept through the field, you shivered. The night had turned cooler now, and your jacket was still folded over his arm. You didn’t even have to ask.

“Here,” Harry murmured. “Come here, bun.”

You turned toward him, arms at your sides, and he held the jacket open, slipping it onto your shoulders. Then, like he’d done it a hundred times, he crouched down in front of you, tugging the zipper up slowly until it reached your chin. His hands paused there, fingers brushing your neck.

“You okay?” he asked, looking up at you from where he knelt.

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Good. Let me know if you get tired, yeah?”

You looked over his head. “Harry?”

“Yeah?”

“I want a snack.”

He stood up with a groan, kissed your forehead, then handed your jacket off to Kid. “Hold this. She’s on a mission.”

You giggled, trailing behind him like a duckling as he weaved through the crowd toward the vendor tents. When he returned with a little paper cone of churros and some warm nuts, your eyes lit up, but you didn’t reach for any of it.

Instead, you plopped down on the grass with him under one of the big glowing lights, and... just started feeding him.

“Open,” you said, pinching one between your fingers.

Harry eyed you suspiciously but leaned in. “You asked for these.”

“I know,” you said sweetly, holding up the next bite. “Say ‘ahh’.”

He opened his mouth with a sigh.

But he kept eating. And letting you wipe the chocolate from his lip with your thumb. He even licked your finger when it got sticky, smirking at how red your cheeks turned.

“You’re embarrassing me,” you whispered.

“I’m not doing anything,” he replied calmly, leaning back on one elbow.

You crawled into his lap a few minutes later and put one in your mouth, half-hanging from your lips, waiting for him to bite the other end. He did, and you squealed.

Then he grabbed your face and kissed your nose. “Now eat your own damn food.”

“No,” you giggled.

Later in the night, back by the stage, your energy started to dip. You were still swaying to the beat, but your hands gripped Harry’s shirt like you needed to ground yourself. The music was loud, people were drunk and wild, but Harry was your safe place.

“C’mere,” he said softly, and you nestled back into his chest.

He wrapped both arms around your middle this time, chin resting on your head. You tilted your head up to see the sky, deep navy blue, scattered stars, and blinking drones overhead spelling words you didn’t read fast enough.

“You cold again?”

You shook your head. “Just tired.”

He kissed the top of your head. “You wanna leave?”

“No. I want to be annoying.”

He laughed, brushing his fingers up and down your arms. “Congratulations, mission accomplished.”

You peeked behind you, whispered, “Can we get cotton candy?”

He blinked. “We just had churros.”

“Okay, but it’s cotton candy.”

“I’ll go get it,” he said, turning.

You tugged his hand back. “No, take me.”

So he did.

When you finally got your pastel pink and blue cotton candy, you barely ate it. You mostly held it, occasionally pulling off little bits and pressing them to Harry’s lips.

“You know you’re just sugar-feeding me at this point.”

You nodded, proud. “That’s the point.”

The night wore on. You sat beside him on the grass, lying back with your head in his lap. His fingers scratched lightly at your scalp, your eyes fluttering closed every so often. You’d talk in tiny murmurs, asking if he was having fun, asking if he liked your nail color, asking if he’d sing to you later.

“Yes,” “yes,” and “of course,” he’d answer.

Yaffra tossed a glowstick at you, and you caught it, lazily putting it around your wrist.

When the last act came on, you asked him to dance again.

Not wild dancing, just soft little steps. Barely-there movements, you swaying in your red jacket, him standing tall in that tight grey shirt, moonlight catching the tattoos on his arm.

He placed a hand on your waist, the other brushing your hair from your face.

And you danced with your cheek against his chest, letting him lead, eyes fluttering closed, your fingers looping lazily into his belt loops.

You whispered something to him that made him laugh again. That soft, unfiltered Harry laugh you loved. He tilted your chin up to look at him.

“You’re trouble.”

You nodded.

“My trouble.”

You nodded again.

“Let’s get you home.”

By the time the final act ended and the lights flickered above the crowd, you were completely worn out. Your lashes drooped sleepily, your steps slower, arms crossed in front of you.

Harry walked behind you while the group made their way out of the field, hand grazing your back. When you slowed down too much, he gave your bum a little tap, not hard, just enough to make you stumble forward half a step.

“Why are you moving like this, baby?” he teased quietly.

You made a tiny whining sound but didn’t speak, too sleepy to form words. So when he bumped his hip against yours to mess with you, you just groaned and bumped him back with a pouty face. It made him laugh again.

He took your hand and squeezed it, slowing his pace to match yours.

[ao3topshipsbracket]

genuinely asking: why do you have such an enthusiastic stance on voter fraud? im not casting moral judgement here, im genuinely curious as to the reasoning behind this stance. ty :)

We've discussed this before on the blog, but in summary: we allow voter fraud because there is no feasible way to prevent it. We're lucky enough to have graphs that allow us to track one particular strain of easily detectable cases of fraud (i.e. one person spamming votes by repeatedly making new accounts), but there are plenty of other variants that are above our skill level we can't track or prove.

There are also ways of getting votes that some people may consider legitimate that might, to others, feel ill-gotten. We've seen fans flooding in from Twitter and other platforms to vote for their favorite ship. Does that count as fraudulent? How about someone promising to write/draw requests for any of their followers who vote for their preferred ship? Or maybe someone just has one alternate account that they use to cast a second vote?

Ultimately, if we try to say that X, Y, and Z are not allowed, then people become incentivized to accuse the opposition of X, Y, and Z to get them removed from the bracket. So, how do we stay fair and set rules when we have no way to reliably enforce them?

Easiest solution: level the playing field. Make it clear that everything goes! If any side is allowed to fraud, then it becomes a game of passion! And that's significantly more fun.

[tianjinwellmadescaffold]

Scaffold Service Bracket - Work Platform Bracket - Scaffold Wall Bracke...

[preciousdomino]

elle's favorite ateez fics. f = fluff ; s = smut ; sg = suggestive ; a = angst. ✧ = absolute favorites, must read. (only adding notes for these few fics to ensure readability for the overall list!) word count in brackets. last updated: may 2nd, 2024

authors; if you wish to be untagged, please let me know!

currently no individual fic for hongjoong, yeosang & jongho. please refer to the OT8 section, or come back for future updates!

성화 SEONGHWA

✧ [11,1k] plastic flowers — @bobateastay ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: this fic revolves around abortion, so please keep this in mind before reading. i read this on a flight— and i don't know if it was the altitude, but it broke me. the author beautifully wrote this, in a way where unconditional love, hope and pain are intertwined. one of the most pleasantly surprising and touching reads i've had on this platform by far.

✧ [2,3k] essence — @hwaightme ( f ) ↪ note: this one is for the poetic, hopelessly romantic fics lovers. everything i've read from this author was beautiful so far! the poetry in this fic was so pretty that i felt the need to share it to my friends... although i usually never share fics out of tumblr. i'm excited to read through more of your writings, bai!

[1,2k] the first snow and being in love — @i-luvsang ( f )

[884] 02:36 — @hwapetals ( f )

[642] adoration — @kisshwa ( f ; sg )

[8,6k] both — @hwaightme ( s ; f )

[200] 10:24pm — @hotteoki ( f )

[986] anguish — @kisshwa ( a )

[n/a] bf texts — @hotteoki ( f )

[79] 9:22pm — @cozykpopblurbs ( f )

[1,6k] i'll be with you — @cheollipop ( f )

[519] lazy make out sessions — @crazyforhwa ( s )

[1,2k] realistic sex — @byuntrash101 ( s ; f )

윤호 YUNHO

✧ [13k + 18,2k] unprofessional attraction ; pt.1 , pt.2 , [tbc] — @jk97 ( f ; s ; a ) ↪ note: i was so engulfed into this fic that i skipped a lecture to continue reading. fics that are heavier nsfw-wise usually aren't my thing, but here, every single line pulled me in. hell, i felt even more insane about yunho after reading this. saying i'm excited about the next chapters would be an understatement.

✧ [14k] closer, face down — @ncteez ( s ; f ) ↪ note: again, although i usually prefer fluff over smut, i absolutely loved this fic... the build up made it so enticing! i don't know if a re-edit still is in the works, but i'd absolutely re-read it regardless!

✧ [84,5k] project: make you love me (series) — @hwaslayer ( f ; a ; s ) ↪ note: pulled an all nighter to read the entire series in one go... it was that fun to read! the relationship was built up at a nice, natural pace, while still keeping the reader on their toes. (this made me very excited about the seonghwa series in progress..!)

[1,1k] bedfellows — @sungbeam ( f )

[1,3k] he knows he loves you — @honeyhotteoks ( f )

[2,5k] convenience store chances — @ohmyamor ( f )

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[300] nothing sweeter — @i-luvsang ( f )

[1,1k] nsfw alphabet — @yunhobug ( s )

[425] 3:52am — @edenesth ( f ; sg? )

산 SAN

✧ [3,7k] leave the window open — @sungbeam ( f ) ↪ note: so sweet. so comforting. the kind of heartwarming fic that feels like hot cocoa on a cold winter day. (also made me feel insane about san... but let's not talk about that.)

[1k] always available — @everyonewooeverywhere ( f )

✧ [1,6k] capturing us — @03jyh23 ( f ) ↪ note: another sweet, poetic, hopelessly romantic fic— my favorite kind! finding fics like these always feels like discovering a little treasure. looking forward to all the wips!

[n/a] boyfriend texts — @koizekomi ( f )

[2,6k] take a break - @cheollipop ( f ; s )

[249] 21:23 — @petitemingi ( f )

[350] boyfriend headcanons — @i-luvsang ( f )

[600] one more minute — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[1,3k] no strings, no expectations — @seonghwaddict ( a ; sg ; f? )

[468] stretch marks — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[475] valentine's series : movies — @whimsicalwritingsandmore ( f )

[n/a] instagram stories with bf san — @lwtqts ( f )

[371] hold me — @cheeseceli ( f )

민기 MINGI

[800] untitled — @cheollipop ( a ; f )

[2,8k] mind over matter — @mingisaddctn ( s )

[256] 23:22 — @petitemingi ( f )

[1k] 23:46 — @seonghwaddict ( f )

[447] princess treatment — @cheeseceli ( f )

우영 WOOYOUNG

✧ [1,2k] broke you heart, i'll put it back together — @dairyminki ( a ; f ) ↪ note: loved this so much that i had to read it twice. something about wooyoung hopelessly in love wanting to fix this... name twin, if you're reading this, hi- i'd be seated for a part 2 if you ever have the time to write it!

[2,2k] vacation — @bobateastay ( f ; s )

OT8

[700] when you don't say i love you back — @jjunberry ( f )

[2,4k] romance tropes — @beenbaanbuun ( f )

[n/a] situationships (texts) ; pt.1 , pt.2 — @yunhoszn ( f )

[2,9k + 3k] as boyfriends ; hyung line , maknae line — @honeyhotteoks ( f : s )

[n/a] sex ban (texts) — @kisshwa ( sg ; f )

[n/a] sending you a pic of themselves (texts) — @bombuni ( f )

[1,3k] outfit turn-ons — @starillusion13 ( sg )

[1,2k] make-up sex — @nateezfics ( f ; a ; s )

[944] showering — @seonghwaddict ( f ; sg )

[1,6k] as boyfriends — @atiny-moon ( f ; sg )

[2,5k] that one specific habit they do that highlights their love language — @sanhwaism ( f )

[1,1k] top 3 kinks — @seonghwaddict ( s )

[2,8k] making out — @sxcret-garden ( sg ; f )

[n/a] asking them to draw a flower (texts) — @eightmakesonebraincell ( f )

if any link is broken, or if i made any mistake when tagging fics— please kindly let me know!

[linatheweirdooo]

NUZILESS SHIP BATTLE DAY 12

SIDE A ROUND 3 BRACKET 1

Todays poll is JESSA (J x Tessa) VS ENVUZI (N x V x Uzi)

Side B round 2 bracket 2 results:

Thadzi - 104 votes (67 on tumblr, 37 on twitter)

Dollzi - 145 votes (82 on tumblr, 63 on twitter)

Not sure what to say here tbh I saw this coming

This battle is happening on both TWITTER and TUMBLR (I'm @LinaTheWeirdooo on both), so go vote your favourite ships in both polls, because votes will be counted and added across both platforms!!!!

More info on side A round 1 bracket 1

[byoldervine]

How To Skip A Scene That Isn’t Working (When Chronological Order Writing Is A MUST)

We all know the feeling of being stuck on a chapter or paragraph that really isn’t working for you, but you don’t wanna skip it because you wanna write chronologically and don’t wanna start somewhere where you don’t know what exactly came before. So how do you make yourself do it without feeling lost?

1. Leave a progress marker. Bold, underlines, brackets, new colours or highlights, whatever it takes to mark that something needs to happen here. If it’s just one word that’s stalling you, lots of people like to just write ELEPHANT so that they can remember to come back to it later with the right word. If it’s something that actually requires thought, though, you can leave a note that says something like (Character finds the magic amulet and uses it to save their friend) or whatever the relevant plot occurrences happen here. You can make it as detailed or as simple as needed and then come back to it later

2. Open your planning notes. RIP pantsers but prior planning is a boon in these scenarios because you still get the gist of what else will be happening in the remainder of the scene. Take advantage of this so you know what will be happening and what you’ll need to build from - it won’t be exact, but you already have a platform to jump from

3. Write, don’t edit. You know that you’ll be editing afterwards, so you don’t need to worry if not everything is written out prior. If anything, it can help you to go back to the old part knowing exactly where you’re going. Trust yourself to be able to pull it off

[un-till-the-end]

All evidence Till survives (2/4)

Blink Gone Observations

1. Inconsistencies compared to previous rounds:

In every single one of these above, the image goes out quickly and then the winning contestant moves up the bracket.

Till is the only exception. His image doesn't go out until after Luka's image has moved into the winning spot and it visibly flickers before it does.

After Sua, Ivan, and even background characters died, they all had large pools of blood under them.

Till is the only one who does not.

2. Hiding his status from the audience

His heart-monitoring earpiece falling out which would tell if he is alive or dead as identified by @pixelifiedcation. @tillsfan recognized the teaser emphasized the earpieces are heart monitors, which, among other reasons, could be to direct fans to this detail.

@asteriass realized how the red spray paint at the bottom of Till's pants and the red soles of his shoes creates the illusion he bled out to the segyein audience. The platform is raised and the floor is reflective.

Unlike previous stages, which were surrounded by the audience on all sides, Round 7 can only be viewed from the front.

Till's leg and Mizi's arm obstruct the segyein's view of Till's actual injury.

Combined with the misdirection of Hyuna's presence, and the excitement over Luka's win, the segyein do not notice there is no pool of blood.

3. From a medical standpoint:

There's lots of different claims people have made, so I consulted my friend who is a medical resident. After laying out the details, he concluded Till's wound is most likely a tracheal injury - not arterial. If so, Till is coughing up blood that is draining into his lungs. My friend's main reasoning is the lack of pooling up blood. The wound still needs immediate medical attention though.

Based on the chart provided by @lost-fugue, this would fall into the orange region with a 50-15% chance of survival. It can be lethal but it should be treatable.

@verdantlights explained the animation team has been consistently accurate with portraying gunshot wounds.

That said, humans can survive virtually anything. They can live after being shot in the head, jumping off a high bridge, or skydiving without a working parachute. So there's no scenario in which his wound is "impossible" to survive.

Till's leg would have fallen down due to gravity since he would have no muscle tone (passive muscle contraction).

If his right foot was pinned under his left leg, then his leg could remain up even if he was dead. However, this is visual storytelling and it would be confusing, ineffective, and illogical for that to be the reason for the positioning of his leg.

Wiege Observations

The morse code at the start of the song spells out "ALIVE" as identified by @awaggaa. While this has the thematic meaning of what it means to be alive, it could also serve a literal meaning that Till is still alive.

@honeybeetlejuice informed there is a heartbeat at the end of Wiege. Compared to Cure, in which Till's heartbeat was speeding up while Ivan's was slow and steady, this heartbeat is faint with long pauses between each one.

Foreshadowing | Official Art & Symbolism | Criticisms & Commentary

[nikethestatue]

I know sometimes it's hard to see the forest from the trees, and after the disappointment of last week, no news or updates, the revelation about what Gwynriels did to the IG Elriel Month Account, the bracket vote sabotage that they accused Elriels of and yet perpetuated themselves, the doxxing and the endless stream of abuse that they hurl on every platform, it's all feels quite discouraging.

But I think that it's important to remember, no matter how frustrating it gets, is that everything that they do, every desperate pathetic move, every ridiculous claim of 'but SJM is a MoThER!!!!!!!!!!! and she has a family!' (as if they ever cared about that before) all stems from one simple fact.

They are terrified.

They don't WANT any updates from the MoThER!!! SJM

They don't WANT any updates from Bloomsbury

They ignore every article and every mention of the next book

They attempt to erase any mention of Elain from collective consciousness because

THEY ARE TERRFIED

Because every single day brings them closer to the inevitable.

Elain. And Elain's book.

And they absolutely cannot accept it. Cannot deal.

I mean, hell, they couldn't even acknowledge Feysand's win in the brackets and reacted with a totally random Rowaelin quote (you know who). So all the GAs with their lists of names and their threats and their endlessly exaggerated stories of their own victimhood which borders on actual martyrdom! at this point--all of it is done for one reason and one reason only--fear.

Unlike them, we got nothing to fear. We got nothing to doubt.

Elain is still the only one for Azriel, his dream and desire. She is still the only one for whom he'd gladly die. She is still the only Made Seer. The mysterious Archeron sister.

Don't lose hope. Don't let the dark days win.

Elriel is coming.