#what are you doing on my lowly tumblr blog

[reading-comp-posting]

Have you ever considered using AI tools to assist with writing your responses?

Well no, because I'm doing this blog for fun. I'm enjoying writing out reading comprehension questions for posts, so why would I automate that away?

But let's say that I saw myself as some sort of arbitor of reading comprehension who needs to post as much as possible to enlighten the lowly tumblr masses. Let's say that I'm interested in upping my output of questions by any means necessary.

I opened up chatgpt and input a certain request, which would hopefully make it write questions about the last post I responded to:

Write reading comprehension questions about a Tumblr post, written by a user named "echoeyee," that reads as folows: "my take on shipping aromantic characters is that if you're aro you get to do whatever you want and if you're not you have to write me a three page essay 12 pt font times new roman double spaced explaining in detail why you believe entering a romantic relationship would be an interesting and worthwhile storyline for the character and how you believe their aromanticism would affect the way they experience said relationship"

And it certainly did write a lot of questions about it. Let's go through them, one by one.

1. What is the primary stance expressed by the Tumblr user "echoeyee" regarding shipping aromantic characters?

This one is good. If you look at the set I wrote, my first one is basically the same, just with different words and a less formal tone.

2. According to the post, what conditions must non-aromantic individuals fulfill if they wish to advocate for romantic storylines involving aromantic characters?

Again, this one is good. It's basically my 3rd question but, yet again, more formal.

3. Describe the format and specifications outined for the essay mentioned in the post.

This is the part where the questions get bad. The exact details of the essay are irrelevant, other than the fact that they imply a formal, academic setting.

4. In your own words, explain the user's perspective on the autonomy of aromantic individuals in contrast to non-aromantic individuals when it comes to shipping characters.

This question seems to genuinely be a product of chatgpt pissing on the poor. The purpose of the post (and specifically the essay within) is to ask people who ship aromantic characters without being aromantic themself to consider said character's aromanticism instead of erasing it.

Meanwhile, chatgpt seems to think that the OP thinks that people who aren't aromantic should be forced by law or something to write an essay if they want to ship an aromantic character.

5. How does the Tumblr post reflect the user's views on representation and storytelling in relation to aromantic characters?

I think that this one is a bit too speculative, but it does actually relate to the OP's intended takeaway.

6. Discuss the potential implications of the requirements set forth in the post for writers and creators in the realm of fiction and fanworks.

This one is just a bit confusing. Chatgpt seems to be going off the assumption that OP is issuing a decree as the emperor of the world.

7. Reflect on whether you agree or disagree with the sentiments expressed in the post and provide reasons to support your viewpoint.

This could have been a "discuss with a mutual" question, and I actually did initially write a question like this one, but I ended up removing it.

Aromantiscism is already controversial enough and I fear that a discussion of whether OP's take on shipping aromantic characters is valid could quickly devolve into discussion on whether aromanticism itself is valid.

8. How might the user's approach impact discussions and representations of aromanticism in media and popular culture?

Yet again, chatgpt is taking the essay thing way too literally. Yes, forcing every single writer who isn't aromantic but wants to ship an aromantic character to write an essay about it would most likely lead to a decrease in people erasing their identities, but the essay isn't the point.

9. Consider the broader societal and cultural context in which this post is situated. How might prevailing attitudes towards romantic relationships influence reactions to the user's perspective?

Obviously historical context is important to keep in mind when you're reading/listening to/watching/whatever a text, but this question has almost nothing to do with reading comprehension. You need to understand the post to imagine how people would react, sure, but understanding how people would react to the post doesn't help you understand this post very much.

10. What insights can be gleaned from this post regarding the importance of diverse and inclusive storytelling in media and creative works?

This could be a discuss with a mutual question. The issue is that it's a bit to broad of a topic.

[m4tthewmurd0ck]

THE MORNING SKY

— (Young) Coriolanus Snow x Fem!Reader

CHAPTER ── 1 [ THE REAPING / THE SPARK ]

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | TABLE OF CONTENTS

a/n: first chapter is finally here! i don’t use y/n and try my best to avoid descriptors, but i do use she/her. also reader had a twin brother who passed away.

ALSO just a quick thing about those asking to be tagged but i can’t tag you. so far everyone that i can’t tag is either a blank blog with no profile pic, or even if they have a profile pic there are either 0 things on your page or there are only reblogs. if any of those apply to you, tumblr views you as a bot and your account isn’t visible. i can’t even search your user and you pop up, i have to press “go to @ user”. okay first chapter below the cut!

WHAT IS A SOULMATE? The answer to that question depended on 2 things: who you asked, and how old they were. The soulmate process was complicated, and to this day there was still not a single person who fully understood how it all worked. The bond, or “the spark” as it was often called, didn’t happen until at least one half of the pair laid eyes on the other.

Before that, people simply felt no romantic interest towards anyone else. As for the spark itself, it was described as a warm happy feeling. That lasted for a few minutes, and was your bodies way of making sure you knew what was happening. Then even once the warmth went away, there was still that sense of happiness.

But back to the question. To those in the Capital, those who came from wealthy families or whose last name meant something, a soulmate was often no more than a recommendation. If it turned out their soulmate was someone who lived in a poor district or who lived in but worked for the Capital in a lowly position, it was common to sever the bond. When that happened, both halves would feel like something was missing for the rest of their lives. It was described as a sense of longing, a dull ache that all you could do was learn to live with.

Once the severing happened, those in the Capital would simply find another with a severed bond. After all, the goal was still to secure a (wealthy) future.

Because at least one person in the pair has to lay eyes on their other half, some people go nearly their whole lives before meeting their soulmate. Some of them would tell you that this was worse than meeting them early on and having the bond severed.

One of the oldest pair of soulmates in District 12 (your district) was a sweet couple in their late-80’s. Despite being up there in age, they’d been together for less than a decade. Having lived on complete opposite sides of the district, it was just a sad coincidence that they’d gone nearly their whole lives without ever being in the same place at the same time.

And for some, the opposite rings true. There was a 4-year-old boy and a 4-year-old girl who had their spark occur when they move next door to each other. For now they were the best of friends. Romantic feelings would come much, much later.

Some people get really unlucky, and go their entire lives without ever meeting their soulmate. If yours dies before you’ve met, you’d get a worse version of that aching feeling that comes if a bond is severed.

There were often discussions about what the worse situation would be. Not meeting your soulmate until you didn’t have much longer to live, meeting them and they want nothing to do with you, or not ever meeting them and they die before you. One could argue that the answer was all of the above, and that the worse case would also be if a pair were put on opposite sides of a terrible situation: someone from the Capital bonded with a tribute in the Hunger Games.

Wealthy folk liked to place bets on if each year was the year it would finally happen, and those that said this is the year were always wrong. That is, until the 11th Hunger Games.

🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶🐍🎶

You were among the many who had yet to meet your soulmate. Though at only 18, it didn’t bother you yet. You were still eligible to be thrown into the games, and you figured you had much bigger things to worry about. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise that you’d yet to meet whoever they were. It wouldn’t be fair to them if you met and then your name was drawn, and you were killed. Though the alternative to that would be that you’d die before at least meeting. And based on stories you’ve heard from those who were put in that situation, that caused just as much (if not more) heartbreak.

“Just one more year,” you whispered to yourself. You could only hope that you at least looked braver than you felt.

It was the morning of the reaping for the 11th Hunger Games, and you were doing your best to look good. It was no secret that the Capital paid close attention to appearances, even from those not selected to compete. And it was also no secret that Mayor Lipp’s other daughter absolutely hated your guts, so you already had a sinking feeling what was going to happen. (a/n: pretend your outfit / hair is whatever you’d like!)

After a few more minutes fixing your outfit and hair in front of the mirror, you finished up just as a series of knocks could be heard at the door.

“Ready?” Archer greets you with a grim smile. When he takes a closer look at you, he raises his eyebrows. “What’s the occasion?”

Under any other circumstance, you might’ve laughed. But you both knew what the occasion was, and that he was only attempting to lighten the mood.

“Juniper Lipp, that’s the occasion.”

“Hey—”

You shook your head. “No point in trying to paint a different picture. We all know what Mayfair did. She had Mayor Lipp call out Lucy Gray for last year’s reaping, all because of Billy. She admitted as much. Now Billy, Lucy Gray, and Mayfair are gone. Juniper knows that Lucy Gray and I were friends. Add to that the fact that Juniper’s supposed boyfriend tried to kiss me, twice. After I shoved him the second time, he started going around telling people that I came on to him and that he had to tell me to back off. You and I both know what’s going to happen today.”

Deep down, Archer knew there was no point in arguing. Juniper Lipp was just as bad, if not worse than her sister was. From the moment Mayfair had it out for Lucy Gray, Juniper took an instant disliking to you. Combined with the incident with Juniper’s boyfriend, at this point no one your age would put it past her to make sure today was a repeat of last year.

After a tense moment of silence, you speak up again. “I know this is going to be the last time I—”

Archer cut you off with a quick shake of his head. “No. Don’t talk like that. You and I are gonna walk over together, and it’ll be the last reaping that we’re eligible for. That’s that. This time next year, these thoughts will be gone.”

One of the things you loved about Archer was his optimism. You’d known him practically your whole life. You met in 1st grade, and he quickly became friends with your twin brother. Then when he died, Archer stuck around. He said it was to make sure you were okay.

Anxiety began to creep in. The light at the end of the tunnel was so close, but you were almost positive you wouldn’t reach it.

“I almost made it.” You laugh, but there is no humor in your tone. “We’re finally eighteen. You said it yourself, after this we would be done. I would’ve been free. Got all the way to the end and today I’m getting picked and that’s means I’m going to d—”

“No,” Archer used your full name, so you knew he was serious. “You’re gonna shut up and listen to me for a minute. You are the strongest, bravest person I have ever met. You are a fighter. And stop looking at me like this is goodbye because even if it does happen today, I know you can win.”

“Archer—”

In lieu of a response, he shook his head again and held his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

Less than 10 minutes later, he gave you a hug and went to go stand with the rest of the boys.

Right on schedule, Mayor Lipp came out and gave the same boring speech about the games that he gave every year. After talking about how it was a great honor to compete, he had the audacity to say that although it was a sacrifice, it’s as ultimately a privilege to serve your district in this way. Hearing that last part, you had to use all of your mental strength to keep yourself from laughing.

What the fuck does he know about sacrifice? You thought to yourself. Looking at those around you, you guessed they were thinking the same thing. In fact, you’d bet everything you owned that Mayor Lipp’s daughter(s) names were conveniently not in that bowl of potential tributes.

“And now,” Mayor Lipp finally pulled you from your thoughts, “we’ll begin with finding out who this years female tribute will be.” He made a big show of putting his hand in the bowl and swishing around, which made you tilt your head down so you could roll your eyes. Such a dramatic gesture considering you knew he was going to say your name.

Time felt like it stopped. When you glanced up, it felt like all eyes were on you. Looks like you were right after all.

Although you wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cry, you forced yourself to keep your head held high as you made your way to the stage. That’s when you first heard it.

So soft, at first you thought that you might be imagining things. But you’d know that annoying sound anywhere. Juniper Lipp was laughing.

“Oops, I’d say good luck but I wouldn’t mean it,” she whispered as you walked by.

Originally, you intended on ignoring Juniper as best you could. But at the last possible second, she stuck her foot out and caused you to trip and land face-first.

Almost immediately, you felt the blood begin to drip from your nose, and you forced yourself to hold back tears as you picked yourself up. It was a miracle she hadn’t broken your nose.

In a moment of bravery that you’ll later come to say you have no idea where it came from, you wiped some of the blood from your nose with the palm of your hand and turned around, smearing it all over Juniper’s face and clothes.

The reaction from the crowd was a mixture of mostly gasps, but a few quiet cheers here and there. Juniper was clearly disliked by a majority of the youth in District 12.

Juniper stood in the same spot, screaming at the top of her lungs. Once you finally reached the stage, you were greeted with a harsh shove from Mayor Lipp. This caused you to stumble back onto the stage, falling for the second time in just a few minutes. The crowd was stunned into silence. Almost everyone was filled with a terrible sense of deja vu as they recalled the events that took place only last year with Lucy Gray.

When you thought of your friend that you missed dearly, you could practically see Lucy Gray in the audience. You know exactly what she’d tell you. Give ‘em a show.

With Lucy Gray in mind, you waited until Mayor Lipp was escorted (practically dragged) back inside. Once the doors shut, you walked to the front of the stage and stood near the microphone. The crowd quickly fell silent, assuming you were going to speak. But instead, you bowed, and when you stood straight, held both middle fingers high.

All of a sudden, you felt it. That warm, happy feeling. Your eyes scanned the crowd, wondering if this was really the fucking moment you were going to meet your soulmate. Did the universe actually hate you that much? The feeling could’ve very well been nerves. But you weren’t stupid. You knew exactly what was happening. Though try as you might, by the time the warmth faded and you were just left with that happy feeling, you couldn’t see anyone who was having the same reaction. And once the warmth was gone, your anxiety was quick to overpower anything good that you felt.

Unbeknownst to you, a certain blonde hair, blue eyed boy sat back in his seat as he did his best to subtly look around at his classmates. None of them were looking around like he was, and it took him a minute to work out what happened.

As panic began to set in for him, he only hoped that none of the people in the room could tell what was going on.

The sad truth was that neither of you could focus on the major event that just took place. He, for example, had to already think ahead as a mentor. From his perspective, he knew that if any of his fellow mentors figured out what you were to him, they’d encourage their tributes to kill you first simply out of spite. No one forgot the water bottle stunt he pulled to save Lucy Gray last year.

And now more than ever, Coriolanus Snow couldn’t let that happen. It nearly killed him to lose Lucy Gray in the final moments of last years games. Add on to the fact that he now knew you were his soulmate, the stakes just became so much higher.

Coriolanus didn’t think either of you could handle any other outcome. No matter what it took, you would have to win this years games.

i promise you meet coryo next chapter!!! just had to get these parts out of the way.

TAGLIST — (if you requested to be added to the taglist, check the table of contents (linked above). if your user is in bold and / or not tagged it means I wasn’t able to tag you. everyone that hasn’t been able to be tagged so far is either 1. a blank account with no profile pic and nothing on their page, 2. no profile pic and only reblogs, 3. they have a profile pic but only reblogs. any combination of these means tumblr viewers you as a bot and your page isn’t visible. those in bold I couldn’t search and they just popped up. I had to press “go to @ user”.)

@czarinera | @qoopeeya | @user123453226780536 | @madamemaximoff06 | @ms-longbeach | @mizuki80 | @captainbabybear | @kuroosbby001 | @justacaliforniandreamer | @siriusly-rem | @missunicorn | @alllriseabove | @niki-is-a-thing | @iiuvchi | @firesunflames | @ashcosmo | @nilletellsstories | @hawkinsavclub1983 | @nyxsoleil-blog | @peachyafshawn | @coryoskywalker | @just-a-littlebit-of-everything | @thesiriusmap | @tiaamberxx | @mei-simp | @or-was-it-just-a-dream | @kaelkeyed | @foxevxid | @poppyflower-22 | @springholland | @prettyppetty | @katherineeekai | @regulusblackcore | @justaproudslytherpuff | @jklsh | @bogbutteronmycroissant |

[frownyalfred]

tips for starting out writing fics?

i honestly don’t have that much writing experience but am also a perfectionist unfortunately and know i'll criticize whatever I write. i know the only way to improve is to actually write so any tips for starting out are appreciated 🙏

Hey anon! I totally understand where you're coming from. Us writers can be so hard on ourselves when our writing doesn't come out perfect.

My usual tips for getting started with writing are below. Take them with a grain of salt, I am just a lowly fic writer, but I did complete a BA in a writing-intensive field and was a journalist for a few years, actually.

Write as frequently as you can. Even if it's just short snippets or quotes. I like to write dialogue ideas down on the treadmill sometimes.

Let others engage with your writing. Ask friends to look over drafts (shoutout to my love @musicalgirl4474) and post your fics, even if they're not perfect! Letting things sit unseen does your writing a disservice, even if it feels better.

Read as much as you can. Read fics in your fandom, and from authors whose writing style you enjoy. Figure out what they're doing that you like -- is it the pacing? The humor?

Write what you want to read. This is the best motivation, in my opinion. If you can write a summary for your fic that you would click on instantly as a reader, you're doing something right.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of good. Spelling mistakes happen, even in published novels. So do characterization errors or plot holes. Even if you spent 40 hours on a single fic, it still won't be perfect. But it can definitely be good, or even great!

Engage with other writers. Join some discord groups with other authors! Reply to tumblr posts about writing. Discuss your fic ideas with fellow writers.

Remember: You do this for free. Improving your writing can often be a full time job. Hell, actual writing is a full-time job. If you need to take a break, or step back, that's okay! Comments, kudos, praise and criticism are all optional. You don't have to agree with anyone, or change anything about your writing if you don't want to.

Comparison is the theft of joy. Don't spend time looking at ratios, or comparing yourself to bigger authors/blogs. Everyone's situation is different, and so is their writing approach.

I hope these help, anon! I am by no mean the end all, be all of writing. If anyone else wants to chime in, it's much appreciated! I'm also happy to offer any insight on what I personally do, but as I said, everyone's approach is different.

[sneezemonster15]

I was looking at some Naruto content the other day and I saw this thread on Quora about whether SNS was legit and I saw that the first entry featured Tumblr posts about how SNS was legit and literally quoted from fake interviews, used visuals from ops and eds, fillers (the second kiss 😒), data books and that line from the novel - "I am blessed to be in Naruto's world." And all of this nonsense from SNS blogs that I have seen here, popular blogs too.

And it's just so funny and sad. Because SNS is the one ship where you don't need any sort of crutches. Canon speaks for itself. The story is proof. I have said a hundred times that fans don't have to rely on interviews to prove SNS's legitimacy, whether fake or real, because the story is supposed to be proof. Period. Full stop. End of story. And there are other credible SNS blogs that actually talk about that, the story, the characterization, the tropes etc etc. It's so evident that not only are they smart, but also inspired. By the STORY. By SNS. Emotions and storytelling.

But the blogs that get visibility on other platforms are these other blogs that are as non sensical as those SS and NH blogs that pounce on any puny, sad little indication of romance, no matter if it's canon or not. Just shipping for shipping's sake, who only know to talk of the 'smutty' stuff.

Not to be prudish but that's reductive as all hell. SNS is so damn much more than that. It's an emotion, nay, it's a convergence of a hundred larger than life emotions, so much so that every time I think of them, it attempts at simply bursting violently out of my heart, like a spirited river that cannot be contained within the dam-like walls of my rational mind. It's hard to put in words.

No wonder other fans think lowly of SNS because this is what they see on the internet. These horny ass posts, written in bad taste and with worse research and reason. But sure, criticize anti fandoms when your own does the same shit they do.

[biffhofosho]

(๑•́ ᎔ ก̀๑)

Heartfelt author sap on a smut blog under the cut lol

The love you all show my work...

wtf lol

You could choose to keep it to yourselves--many readers do--and I would still be happy to write for you in the hopes that it might mean something to you the way it means something to me, but you choose to share your thoughts and feelings with me.

Well... hey, that's just so swell. <3 Thank you for keeping this lowly trash peddler a part of your reading experience.

Feeling pretty soft in the heart today, I guess. Or maybe it has something to do with how I basically slid asphalt-to-face over the finish line in order to publish my Halloweenie fic, and it's been such a gratifying experience knowing that my desperate efforts have been appreciated lmao. Or maybe it's Minhyuk's birthday and my Wonnie is enlisting in a frighteningly short number of days.

(•᷄- •᷅ ;)

Either way, every author dreams of leaving a mark, but it's almost impossible to believe the things some of have shared with me: that my work has changed what you read or how you read, that it's made you laugh or cry or... other things. >.> You've shared my work or recommended me. I've forged enduring, serious friendships outside of tumblr smut. I mean, how fucking epic is that?

It's been a weird year. The highs have be atmospheric. The lows have been somewhere in the mantle. Writing connects me to everything and helps me understand it. It connects me to the Monstas. It connects me to you.

I love you for that.

I hope your days are filled with love, laughter, and Monsta X.

[chuplayswithfire]

Hey man, I'm using a throwaway because I've found a lot of the ofmd fandom really hostile lately and don't want anyone in my main's dms. I'm really not trying to like, be a coward or anything.

I really like your blog and you seem like a cool person, but I was honestly kind of disheartened when I noticed you dismissing the death threats and other awful messages a lot of people (particularly Izzy enjoyers, yes, but I know they're not the only ones) receive.

I understand that that kind of hostility existing might go against your view of this fandom and the world in general, or that maybe you even think these people deserve the things they're told, but I REALLY doubt the multiple people I've seen speak out about this issue are all lying about it or making things up. It just seems like a lot of hoops to jump through just to assume that, when the simpler explanation would just be that at least most of them are real.

Hell, I have a screencap of a mutual of mine receiving their first anon hate telling them to kill themselves for liking Izzy, but since that person was cowardly enough to go on anon I guess to you that's fake too? Like, is it really so hard to accept that this stuff is happening? Or do you really think so lowly of people who like a fictional character that you think they're all liars and master manipulators making shit up for fun?

Even if you ignore the death threats, there's someone on multiple sites right now commenting really awful stuff on people's Izzy art, many of said artists being minors. This I do have proof of. Like I've seen this person tell a black gay man he was a racist and a fujoshi for liking Izzy and drawing art of him?? Seeing this kind of behavior, I have a hard time believing death threats or suicide baiting would be out of the question.

It just really hurts seeing you dismiss experiences like that. I'm probably coming off as unhinged writing all this to a single person, I guess I just think you seem cool and reasonable so this took me off guard. I'd like to apologise in advance if anything I said was upsetting, I'd just like to hear where you're coming from with this.

I hope you have a good day regardless, sorry for making you read all of this. Appreciate you.

Just to get this out of the way, I fully doubt the veracity of this statement because you're a throwaway account. I haven't been on tumblr for 10+ years to be rocked by someone rolling up to me with a terrible sounding story without anyway to verify it. I'm just meant to trust you, an anonymous stranger, that all these horrible things are happening.

Now, do I think there are tons of hateful messages being sent out and about to various fans of various characters? Absolutely. Of course it is. My anons are closed because of the hateful messages I received, which racketed up to being told various ways I should be killed or that I should kill myself once I told the anon that I would not be sharing their messages. Of course that's happening to many other people.

What I personally doubt is that some of the people claiming to receive hate, are actually receiving hate. And frankly, when its anonymous, I have to maintain skepticism because 1) anyone can send themselve anons and 2) anyone can stop anonymous harassment by turning off anon. I'm an example of that. When someone is receiving tons of hateful anon asks and refuses to just turn off anon, I'm naturally skeptical.

But going back to what I said about doubting people - I am again confident that many people have received hateful messages. However, when I see, for example, a person with a total of less than ten posts, less than five of which are about OFMD, talking about the barrage of hateful anons they've received for liking Izzy, I'm doubtful. When I see artists talking about the hate they've received for their art, and then I look at their art and they've been whitewashing, I'm doubtful. When I see fanfic authors lamenting the hate that they've received, and I check the comments being made and they're about how the content of a chapter or story is racist, I'm doubtful.

Ultimately, do I believe this fanom has hateful anons? Yes. Do I think many people are making it up because they believe it strengthens their position? Yes. Do I think *anyone* who claims they and the people around them are uniquely bullied for liking a particular character is being obtuse? Yes. Some fans of Izzy are undoubtedly getting unwarranted and cruel comments. So are Stede and Ed fans, so are fans of the whole show, so are people who post about hating the show. Not to be flippant, but it's the internet. I'm not going to just believe someone because they said something on the internet, but while I have sympathy for people experiencing the distinctly shit feeling of "my inbox is full of hateful comments", I'm also not going to pretend I don't raise my brows when some of the people I see pushing that idea the most are people I see making racist ass commentary.

In short: I am a cool person, I'm glad you like my posts, because I do not know who you are and cannot investigate your claims I do not trust your account. I'm simply too cynical to not raise a brow when people start voicing that they're the most hated people within a fandom just because they like a character.

Getting hate sucks. Sending hate is shitty. Unfortunately, it's part and parcel of the experience of being active on the internet.

[kurobracket]

ITS OFFICIAL!! AKUMA 6 PART TWO THREE: LOSERS EDITION!

After a year of having created this silly little blog, I have decided to come back to give the people what they want: a losers bracket. The losers bracket will (as the name implies) NOT feature any Akuma 6 v2 winners (Grelle, Snake, Soma, Agni, Elizabeth, or "Ciel"). Unlike the last bracket, there will only be ONE victor at the end of the losers bracket.

HOWEVER

In order to have one winner, we must do some downsizing. Which means 6 of our lowly losers must sacrifice their spots and become Mega Losers. I will leave it up to my followers to decide whether or not I choose the 6 to get rid of by either eliminating the 6 characters who had the least amount of votes OR making a google poll and asking the followers of this blog directly to choose their LEAST favorite of the 42 losers.

Once that matter of business gets squared away, the losers bracket will begin on MARCH 6TH, 2024! The official lineup will go up the day before so you know what to expect. Unlike the last bracket, these polls will be up for a week. Please remember that the lineups are randomly generated to remain as fair as possible with no subjective biases. I will also be accepting propaganda posts immediately after this is posted!

Below is a poll to ask how you'd best prefer to eliminate the 6 needed to make it an even bracket. Last but not least, please don't be awful to people rooting for someone who isn't your favorite, or being a sore loser if your favorite doesn't win. This is just a fun tumblr bracket that doesn't mean anything in the end. With that being said, have fun everyone, and may the best loser win!

[ask-idv-shepherd]

Shepherd S-Teir Essence

DISCLAIMER: So this is my first Essence idea I'm doing publicly for people to join in on, if they want. I'm not great with Essence lore, but designs I really really like doing. I'm going to put some ground rules for the essence below. For now though, here's a little bit of info on the lore.

~~

"Today was supposed to be a joyous day for me, for us."

"For once I don't have to worry about lowly humans messing with our lives. That is why it rains when the foxes are to be married. To keep the bad away."

"But now? The rain is weeping, cold and in misery. I've lost so much, given them so many chances to prosper, but they all run away, calling me a foul beast..."

"Will you be the bride-to-be? Or are you here to strip me of my chances of happiness once more?"

~~

S-Tier: Twofaced-Fox Groom - Pearce Whittaker The groom who is half man, half beast. Countless maiden's were fated to him, and yet all have washed away like the rain on his special day. He will get what he wants, even if a little sacrifice entails.

A-Tier: The Vixen Bride - Carmilla Blackwood @ask-idv-outcast The bride who came to be. Her world spins at the lack of understanding. Is this a reality? Or is this a twisted fantasy of possession and desperation? Pleading is endless. A-Tier: Hindered Ijiraq - (OPEN) The objector to this nightmarish event. Shapeshifting into what he must, Protecting the Vixen Bride is all that matters. To pry the claws off a fox, you must be in the exact situation, and take the rightful role back.

B-Tier: Deathly Officiant - (OPEN) The preacher who's gone cold. Nothing more than a long, skeletal remain of who they once were. Adorned with the antlers of an elk, they must ensure this wedding does not end in humanity's downfall. B-Tier: Wilting Willows - Ameillia Thomson @ask-idv-gas-specialist To toss the petals at a wedding is almost necessary, and yet here, everything is dead and lifeless. While there may be no joy in such a place, there is always a small glimmer of hope. All roles must be played, no matter how bitter it may be. B-Tier: Ouroboros Bearer - Eiji Narukami @idv-artists-trio-trio The rings bind lovers indefinitely. Vows are made, and promise till death. This is the eternal cycle of destruction and re-creation. Fighting through skin and bone, you must be there for your beloved always. B-Tier: The Urayuli Usher - Victor Grantz/Campbell @ask-victor-grantzcampbell A large beast who finds the to-be-brides lost in the woods. Those who have gone missing lie at the hands of a beast with high-pitched shrills. Yet here, they serve as peaceful creatures seeking to guide those destined to fate. B-Tier: Maid of Shallowness - (OPEN) Jealousy, Hatred, Pettiness. All things accumulated to malice. The maid who wished to be the best, to have a gorgeous wedding. The plot only thickens when trying numerical times to replace the bride. Even if bloodshed is the last resort. B-Tier: Best Man's Sorrows - (Damien Hardwick @idv-sinful-deities Pity, Regret, Ashamed. The things that make the Best Man feel sorry for countless brides and their frivolous ends. With little to no power, all they can do is weep enterally at what could transpire next. If only someone could stop this nightmare once and for all. ~~

RULES:

One person per blog, sorry homies with the multiple characters on one blog. U_U a. OCs and canon characters are allowed btw!!!

First come, first serve. That's the rules man. Once all the roles are filled, that'll be it so I can work on designs.

Skin Recommendation ideas would be cool! If you have any questions, you can message me here on Tumblr, or On Discord if you prefer! My User is JustMandika#2840.

Don't rush me on the skin making. I absolutely hate that and it might make me procrastinate longer.

~~ So yeah, that's it. If you want a character to be in this little essence idea I did, please lemme know in my inbox here for shepherd. I'll answer in due time, I promy ( Xv X) b

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

I am not going to tell grown folks DNI. I don't even read other people's DNI myself. If they block me, they block me. That's what I believe.

BUT. I will tell you the things that I block you for when I notice you interacting with this blog...

If you don't have no profile pic and no content on the blog, if the only likes in your likes are from this blog, if you have no posts and no likes, if you only have a few posts and none of them show the presence of a Black femme, if you have a full page that I can't find the presence of a Black femme, if you have adult content without the presence of a Black femme, if you have one fandom that I have never seen or heard of in my life - unless it puts me on to a new Black femme, and ONLY IF you also have that character on the blog. If you have a fandom that I'm familiar with, but your blog don't have the Black femme that I know of from the fandom.

Because this somehow KEEPS happening to me, here, of all myblogs - If you have a Taylor Swift blog... girl, how did you find me? Get the fuck. ASAP.

I may also block you if you have her as a pfp or in your url. BFCD doesn't need that in its orbit.

If you have a KPop blog, Kpop pfp, or name with kpop in it... I probably won't block you, but we won't be mutuals. I don't want that in my radar either and I won't have anything for you to even be following me for, because I do not enjoy that or any proximity to it. But I do know that some of y'all is in fact negresses, so I might let you rock with the space if you not out of pocket.

If you have a fandom blog of a fandom that I hate. It's not personal. But, we too different. I hate your fandom for a reason.

If your avatar is a white woman that looks like she would call the cops on me, or one that looks like she "acts Black," or one that looks like a stock photo, or one that looks like a hookup account. Actually, if your profile is a white person, it is almost guaranteed that I'ma block the blog. The content would have to really appeal to my negro interests.

A lot of tongue and mouth things, kissing, licking, eating, chewing, I can't. I won't. Unless its tagged and my blacklist can catch it. But most of you Tumblr bitches don't tag and you goddamn know it.

Raceplay - please go to hell. No white porn or white sex blogs need to show up here. The white mistress/sissy blogs... I'm certain you're bots, but if you aren't, get away from me. I'll be damned if I'm calling a white "mistress." That could be on the birth certificate and guess who won't be callin you that? This nigga.

If the blog is all text posts and not in English - idk what you have on there, so idk if we vibe. I'm a lowly American. All I speak and read is AAVE and American English. We can't even connect/communicate.

If the blog is about diets, or just inspirational quotes (unless it's visibly Black lady things), hustle culture, some type of "business" or marketing blog, No. And also no.

And if somebody I trust ever tells me something foul about you that I don't wanna fuck with, I do also block on principles.

[protozoan-pen-and-pigment]

It's been a long time hasn't it, me posting on this page.

It may be some time still before I do again, but I was thinking about my writing earlier and it occurred to me, that even a lowly literary underachiever such as myself can occasionally be prophetic in their fiction.

I ask you to regard the text below. This is an extract from one of my earliest stories, "Mad Machine", written in around 1994. The synopsis of the story is irrelevant at this point, but the passage describes the use of wearable tech that's placed over the eyes like a contact lens, to relay visual data to the user.

↑ Extract from my story, Mad Machine, written c.1994.

Now observe the screenshot from my Tumblr blog, "The Technocracy", that I posted last November; that same piece of wearable tech that I described in my story from three decades ago, now known as AR (Augmented Reality) lenses, are now at the prototype stage with numerous companies - but most significantly with tech firm Mojo - and may soon go to market in the next couple of years.

↑ Entry from my sister blog, The Technocracy, November 2022.

Now, I'm not saying that I should take any credit for this, nor that I was the true progenitor of the idea, that would be preposterous (albeit really cool!), especially given the Mad Machine never saw publication, but it's wonderful what things the mind can conceive that may seem fanciful, even ludicrous, which may be part of ones reality, many years hence. Even though I wasn't part of it, I still think that's fantasticaly cool.

[the-qsmp-times]

About Us!

Welcome to The QSMP Times! A paper written by a Quesadilla Island citizen for the Quesadilla Island citizens!

This paper is run by one lowly reporter, Me! I'll try to keep my identity anonymous, for the sake of information first! You can refer to me as the reporter, with any pronouns! I don't mind.

We're run by only one person on a large island, and we're a monolingual fuck with limited access to word-reference.com! So we may miss information! Caught something on your daily walk? Let us know Here, in the tips jar!

Our Tags: #The QST Front Page <- For our headlines, the important stuff! #The QST Gossip Column <- For our speculations, the juicy stuff! #The QST Op Ed <- For our opinion pieces, the personal thoughts of our reporters! #The QST Write In <- Where you'll find the answers to your tip submissions, our answer box!

Thank you for tuning into The QSMP Times, we hope you enjoy your read!

OOC Housekeeping under the cut.

Okay, Hi! This is a QSMP roleplay blog, just here to have fun! This is not an updates account. I repeat, this is not an updates account. This blog is written from the perspective of someone living in quesadilla island, and so the narrator will not have the same information the wider audience might. If you want this blog to report on something it hasn't mentioned, send it to the ask box!

This blog is admined by Soap, she/her, from smpanalyzer. I only speak English, but I'm trying my best to understand basic grammar and phrases from all the other languages featured on the SMP! If I mess up, please let me know.

I'll be browsing all of the twitter updates accounts for information, as well as the tumblr community. I'll try to spread my articles fairly across all players and nationalities, but there are a lot of players so far. Please forgive me if I can't get to everyone.

You can check out the Newspaper Template I use Here! It's for google docs, but I think you can also format it to word! Shout out to Kateryna K, I owe her my life.

The owner of this blog actively dislikes Dream, and the Dream team. You can do what you want but be aware that this blog can and will make jokes at dreams expense, and will make fun of the """"usmp"""".

This blog is NOT the official tumblr updates account. This blog is NOT affiliated with the QSMP. This blog has NOT been sanctioned by Quackity. This blog is a lawless wasteland of my creation.

[fattestwriting]

YOU, yes YOU, the mun of this blog, with a blobby body bigger than the sun, and the hunger of a black hole, and the desire to turn everything around you into an endless ocean of your own piss, shit, and cum~

"Huh? What? This ask is absurd. Do people really not realize this stuff isn't real?"

Without a second thought, R-

"What the fuck was that!"

She turned around fervently, trying to find where the voice was coming from, only to realize-

"No, no way! I am not being narrated right now, that stuff isn't real! I must be drea-"

But Roxy's words had been cut off, as the ask took effect upon her body. She suddenly felt the pounds gaining on her body, pouring onto her like a bowl of lard. She quickly burst out of the home she had lived in, expanding rapidly.

The trans girl's body used to be small. She was 6'1", much to her shagreen, and she sported a pot belly that stuck out an inch or so from her chubby body with a muffin top that did the same around her sides. She had had small bingo arms, a blobby pelvis, chair filling thighs, a tights busting ass, chubby cheeks, and an average gock, but that was all gone, replaced with a much more cosmic version of herself.

She was now bigger than the sun, with all of her ever-churning balls, plump adipose riddled ass cheeks, and perky pear shaped tits each being the size of the gas ball. Her stomach had ballooned massively, with her blobby form being over 20 times the Suns size, without even accounting for her 10x the sun sized neck and solar system spanning cock.

"Oh FUCK me this feels so good,,,"

The lowly Tumblr writer had forgotten all about the voice in her head, about the absurdity of the situation, about anything other than her sheer size and the sexual pleasure she got from it. Her cock was harder than it had ever been, reaching light years in size, in both girth and length. Her pre soaked every galaxy she was facing before she even had a chance to think about cumming... Or her now very hungry stomach. It growled ferociously, informing her she needed to eat, now. She started with the Earth, if for no reason than sentimental value, but as she approached she felt small bumps hitting her jiggly fat.

"Aw, how cute! They've achieved world peace, by teaming together to launch every nuke at me! Not like that'll save them~"

And so, she finally beg- Hey! Hey what are you- You can't be in here! Uh, yes I can? It's my Tumblr blog. Get the fuck outta here guy, or I'll add you to the menu. Jesus, the gaul of some people. BBWWWUUUAAARRRPPP. Anyways, I finally began to eat the Earth, which consisted of a single slurp, which also happened to suck in the moon. As they continued to bombard my belly with nuclear missiles, I couldn't help but get a lil bloated! So-

*PPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHTHBBBBBBB*

I let loose a cosmic wave of flatulence that destroyed the entire galaxy! Which sucked ass, because I was still super hungry, but was just the most arousing shit imaginable, so I came! And as the cum filled the entire universe, it eventually came to me, all of the mass in the universe being taken straight to me by my own tidal wave of cum. So, naturally, I drank all of it, putting all of my own cum and every piece of matter in the universe into my belly. Over the next couple minutes, I finished off any scraps until it was finally just me against the edge of the universe.

Literally, it was pressing up against me, with my dick stretching it out noticeably, literally warping reality around it's immensity. But all that cum and all that mass had made me really need to go to the bathroom... So I did! I began spewing shit across the wall of the universe, as remnants of the universe was sticking out of my shit. At the same time, I released a tidal wave of piss that was yellow as the sun and reeked just as bad as my shit. Within seconds, I was surrounded by nothing but the warm blanket of an infinite amount of my own shit and piss, a feeling so damn hot that I came on the spot, stopping my piss flow so I could shoot out an entire universe worth of cum, which, naturally, finally broke the universal barrier.

As soon as I was in the multi verse, I realized something... Every character I'd ever read or written breaking the barriers of a universe was here. All of them. And they were fat as ever~ And so, I did as anyone would do in my situation... I got to work eating every universe and universe puncturing character (and sometimes IRL friend), shitting out the extra as I went. By the time I was done, it was once again me pressing up against the edge of the universe surrounded by my own shit, but unlike last time, I was still full. So I pushed. I pushed and released the biggest log of shit yet, one bigger than my entire body, the one which finally broke the multiversal barrier... Only to realize. This process was infinite.

And so I ate again, shat again, and kept going. Forever. I'm reaching you from there now. I've broken through over a trillion barriers, and I can't even begin to imagine how big I am in comparison to whatever universe gets this. The characters had stopped showing up a while ago, because I truly never dreamed this big, but I did notice a blob the same size as me in the distance, also covered in their own shit... I wonder.

[weirdsociology-writes]

Five Runs - Run 3: The Other Throne Room

THIS BLOG IS DEFUNCT DUE TO A GLITCH IN TUMBLR'S SYSTEM. PLEASE FOLLOW @weird-writes INSTEAD FOR UPDATES.

Title: Five Runs - Run 3: The Other Throne Room (3.2k)

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

His voice isn't breaking so much as shutting down, his vocal cords unable to keep up as his words tumble over one another. You catch another fragment that contains you and something that might be did this but it's nothing as coherent as a sentence, and then he gives up all together and you're halfway launched into an open cabinet as he slams into you, wrapping his arms around you in a bruisingly tight hug that seems to surprise him at least as much as it does you.

Description: A series of drabbles all sharing one theme: you've decided to run away from your Mandalorian. On purpose. For his birthday. Listen, everyone's got their kinks, and his is bounty hunting (sort of. Mostly, it's you.)

Series: Part 3 of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, canon-typical violence, object insertion but probably not in the way you think, oral sex, manual sex, implied penetrative sex, brief mention of somnophilia, canon what canon, no betas we die like men [warnings are for all drabbles.]

Tropes: established relationship, the helmet comes off, hurt/comfort, fluff, adventure

Author's note: When I finished Easy Mark, I wanted to write something adventurous and fun next, something that lets these two show how much they really do enjoy each other's company. Each drabble is set during a different time in their relationship but it's all after the Mos Eisley incident mentioned in Distractions.

***

RUN 3: THE OTHER THRONE ROOM

The third time, he's impressed: “When I said run, I didn’t mean run to the nearest available warlord."

“Yeah, but I saw the puck Karga gave you. Seemed convenient. Easiest way to kill two banthas with one knife.”

Din's having this conversation with your knees as he looks up at you on your perch. The aforementioned warlord's throne had been a comfortable spot from which to watch your bounty hunter do what he did best, but the dais at your feet is now splattered with blood from the bodyguard that had been unwise enough to challenge him to single combat. The warlord himself is bound and gagged on the floor, cuffs clattering as he shifts impotently against the flagstones. No one had noticed you, the lowly installer tech, sneak in the back door and take the throne for yourself in the commotion.

"How in the hells did you even get in here? I lost a whole day figuring out how to get over that shield wall." He had, you'd watched him do it, secure in your position as the backwater outpost's newest employee. You'd been repairing a HoloNet hard line that stretched across the cluster of low rooftops surrounding the courtyard and therefore had an excellent vantage point as the gate guards flatly refused to let an armed Mandalorian into the keep. You'd even given him a cheerful wave when they weren't looking, nearly certain Din wouldn't start a massacre in a yard full of civilians just to get to you.

"That's because you showed up all hot and bothered and waving a blaster around. I came in looking for a job, and when they got a taste of my talents, well, they couldn't wait to hire me."

The helmet makes a spluttering noise. "Tell me you didn't-- what does that-- what did you do?"

You laugh. "Relax, Mando. You don't need to avenge my honor yet. All I did was flirt. And to be fair, I do know how to upgrade a HoloNet connection. The amount of channel competition on their mesh network was awful. I had to dig around in a lot of very dusty attics." You reach behind the base of the throne, feeling blindly for the sack you'd brought with you.

"Still sounds better than climbing over a--" Din starts, but his words are cut off as he catches the heavy canvas bag you fling at him, the hardened knuckle guard of his glove making a chiming sound against the contents even through the cloth.

"Open it," you command imperiously from your perch. Din does, giving a low whistle through the modulator. He pokes a fingertip inside, using it to rifle through the contents, and you can tell he's counting under his breath. You'd done the same when you'd found it, the pile of credits big enough to make your eyes widen and your brain briefly go to static.

"Where did you find this?" he says at last. "This is more than the last four jobs put together."

You can't contain yourself any longer. You come out of your seat, stepping off the raised dais and dropping down to stand next to him. "I know.” The giddiness you feel leaks into your voice. "That's enough for repairs and refit. That's enough for the rations the womp rat likes. That's enough for everything we need all at once and a new sleeping pad." You put a hand on Din’s vambrace, hoping he can sense your excitement. "And that's not all. There's something more. Something important."

"Nothing's more important than a pile of hard credits," Din retorts, but you can hear his smile. He nudges the still-struggling warlord with the toe of his boot. "We'll find a nice closet to stash him in on the way. Show me?"

***

You’d found the treasury room on one of your installation jobs, replacing old fiber optic in the interstitial spaces between the outpost's wooden ceilings and its hardened steel roof. You’d been following the cable when it took a sharp drop and terminated in a comms panel that looked like it hadn’t been used in decades. Next to it was a nest of other, much newer electronics: a scomp link port backed up by a biometric authenticator; a localized security computer inset just beside the reinforced door frame; a series of seriously intense magnetic deadbolts. Every component was tied to an alarm system that had been state of the art in the Core ten years ago. Out here it had probably cost a small fortune.

The setup caught your attention immediately. Anything behind a security system like that had to be worth getting to. You ditched the rest of the day's work immediately, knowing no one would miss the tech with the sling full of tools they'd last seen crawling into a maintenance hatch. Most of the people in the building probably don’t even know this corridor exists, let alone the door that now beckoned to you enticingly from its cradle of locks.

It had taken you most of the day to get through. Scomp links were easy to clone if you had the right tools -  which you didn't -  or access to the original - which you also lacked. It was a slow and fiddly job, sliding the thin sheet of transparisteel you always carry in your kit between each of the scomp link receptor's teeth and waiting to hear the right kind of click. So many unsuccessful attempts would have certainly triggered the alarm if you hadn't shorted it first, wiring the sensor array into the old fiber optic line to keep the circuit closed before cutting the connection to the door. The security computer was off-network, a straightforward way to keep it out of reach of an override code from a central control room, but that also meant it couldn't do more than blink impotently at you as you tried to rekey the biometric scanner. And then tried again. And again.

By the time the magnetic locks let go with a final-sounding clunk, you were past tired and halfway to exhausted. "This had better be good," you said aloud to the empty corridor, and waved one hand in front of the sensor until the door hissed open.

It was better than good. It was like a dream, or maybe a fairytale. You'd heard stories about places like this one, local heavies on the Outer Rim who'd taken the fall of the Empire as a sign and converted all their wealth to metals and other materials for war or barter. You'd never believed they were true.

The room is small but tidy, crates and shelving units stacked one on top of another. Several of the lower drawers are partially open and you can see the glint of gold, the subdued shine of platinum. One shelf is occupied entirely with white-grey ingots of doonium, while another holds a small rack of crystals you can’t identify. You step inside, shutting the door behind you and feeling as though you've just walked into a tacky holonovel, and kneel to rifle through the crates. Your mind is racing through the possibilities. Two nights, plus travel time to reach the outpost. Throw in another few hours while you persuaded first the gate guards and then the warlord's administrative flunkies to take you in, and it’s been just under two and a half days. That means Din will find you in the next twelve hours - almost certainly sooner. You need a plan.

You start pulling open drawers methodically rather than randomly. Most of the cache is no good to you: no practical application for either you or your bounty hunter, useful only in quantities too heavy to carry or too rare to fence quietly. There are exceptions - you shove a small spool of something you think might be very thin cortosis wire in your bag, and in one well-thumbed drawer you find a sack full of credits that's worth more to you than anything else in the room. Credits spend without fuss and they can't be easily traced. That alone makes the time you spent slicing your way through the door worth it.

Two boxes left, the inert lockpads thick with dust. They're both small, shoved into a corner as though someone had kicked them there in a hurry to get to something else. You reach to inspect the first, easing up the lid, unsure of what it might contain.

You almost laugh when you realize what you're looking at. The small rectangular space is packed tight with flashing metal and precious stones, strung into delicate and decorative arrangements. Jewelry - as if the treasury room really is a pirate cave from a children's storybook. You balance the crate on one of the cabinets and card your fingers through it, letting the tangle catch and gleam in the dim light. It's an absurd thing to find on a planet like this one. Jewelry. As if a pretty necklace would mean anything when a renegade dropship blew through the shield generator.

You leave the jewelry scattered across the cabinet top in a tangled drift like a tidal pool and lean down to pick up the last crate. It's heavier than you anticipated and you wrestle it into an open space on the floor with a surprised oomph. Not just earrings in this one then. What could be that heavy but got pushed aside as though it were useless?

You flick open the latch. For a moment you don't recognize what you're looking at. It's just more metal, grey and dull, stamped with the Imperial cog this time instead of the emblem of the New Rep—

You slam the crate closed again, heart hammering in your ears, and frantically catalogue your options for jamming the treasury door behind you so no one else can get in. You have to find Din. You have to find Din.

***

Your Mandalorian unceremoniously dumps his bounty in a heap in the disused corridor, not bothering to find a closet. There's enough chaos throughout the building that the warlord’s shouts for help, muffled by the gag Din forced between his amateurishly sharpened teeth, are unlikely to attract attention. It takes you no time at all to get back through the treasury room’s security system, having already bypassed the scomp link and reprogrammed the biometric lock to open at the touch of your hand.

You push Din in ahead of you, narrowly avoiding slamming into his armored back as he takes two steps inside and then stops. "Maker. How did you find this?" His gaze is sweeping the room, assessing, completing the same inventory you had when you'd first realized what it contained.

"Running cable," you answer. "Doesn't matter." You'd stashed the little crate with its plain ingots in one of the cabinets, shoving it to the back to keep it safe in case anyone else came looking. It was unlikely that even the warlord's most trusted bureaucrats would be able to get through the door after you were done slicing the security system, but you couldn't risk it. You open the cabinet and push a box of what might be aurodium ore out of the way, finding the crate exactly where you left it. You lift it out with both hands and set it on the table next to the pile of jewelry.

There's probably a correct way to do what you're about to but you have no idea what it is. So: "Din," you say, to get his attention - you never use his real name in public, not even when you're alone - and the helmet whips around to stare at you in surprise. Then you unceremoniously pop the lid and shove the crate towards him.

Whatever reaction you'd expected, it wasn't this. Din goes absolutely still for a moment, every movement under the armor stopping at once like a droid having its power cut. You can't tell if he's examining the contents of the crate or you, and his lack of motion makes a tiny spark of fear shoot up your spine, some deep animal part of you recognizing the quiet focus of a predator.

The visor finally tips to look directly at you. "It’s beskar. Do you know what this means?"

"Uh-- not really," you respond lamely. His reaction has made you strangely unsure of yourself. "I know it's... important. I know it belongs with you." He hasn't moved any further and the twinge you'd felt is rapidly consolidating into a nervous twist in your gut.

"It's beskar," Din says again, and you open your mouth to shoot back something stupid like no kidding, but he's still talking. "Beskar that was stolen from Mandalorians. You found it and now you’re just giving it back.” He's accelerating now, as if it's vital that he tell you this information before something terrible happens. "Beskar is our future. This is enough to feed everyone in the covert-- every adult, every foundling--  for a year. Maybe more. You-- I--" His voice isn't breaking so much as shutting down, his vocal cords unable to keep up as his words tumble over one another. You catch another fragment that contains you and something that might be did this but it's nothing as coherent as a sentence, and then he gives up all together and you're halfway launched into an open cabinet as he slams into you, wrapping his arms around you in a bruisingly tight hug that seems to surprise him at least as much as it does you.

You yelp as your head misses the corner of a crate by a scant inch but Din doesn't seem to care, his vambraces digging into your ribs, his bandolier smashed against your breasts. It's an awkward embrace, maybe the most awkward thing you've ever seen him do, and somehow it’s the awkwardness that drives home how much his gratitude is horribly, crushingly sincere. You're not handling the moment any better: you can feel your cheeks burning with chagrin and your mouth is squashed into his shoulder, muffling your protests. "I didn't do anything," you’re compelled to say to the gap in his armor between breastplate and pauldron. "I was just curious. All I did was break in and it was here."

"Shut up," Din says savagely, and then just as abruptly lets go, pushing you away, tearing at his gloves. The second his hands are bare he reaches for you, running them over your jaw, your neck, the open collar of your tunic the same way another man might feverishly kiss you. Din's touched you enough that you can feel that this time is different, the warm roughness of his grip  conveying something new and meaningful that you can't quite decipher yet. It doesn't stop you from leaning into him, offering more of yourself, as his hands dip under your shirt and start to slide lower. 

Your shared moment of mutual embarrassment is dissolving into something urgent as Din drops to his knees in front of you. His intention is clear, but as much as you want this, want to explore whatever threshold you've just crossed, common sense dictates otherwise. "Mando… Mando. Din," you say again, trying to interrupt the reverent path of his hands unbuckling your belt. "We can't– we don't have time– we have to go." If you'd read the situation correctly, you have about an hour before word of what just happened spread outside the outpost. As soon as it does, a power vacuum too powerful to ignore will pull in every local thug who fancies themselves the next warlord, all of them gunning for a chance at the Mandalorian who'd deprived them of the last man to hold the throne. Din had won the contest with the bodyguard at least forty minutes ago. You need to be well on your way to hyperspace by now.

The uncomfortable press of the cabinets against your back lessens as Din does his own mental calculation and arrives at the same conclusion. "You're right," he grumbles, getting to his feet. By the time he stands you can tell he's back to his usual sardonic self, but whatever's changed between you is still simmering under the surface. He's holding something back, waiting for the right - or at least a safer - moment. "Sorry, mesh'la. I'll make it up to you later."

"Shouldn't I be the one saying that?" you tease, glad that his awkwardness has dissipated. "It's your birthday."

Din huffs indignantly. "That's right. It's my birthday. And I want to make it up to you later." He slaps your ass as you move toward the door, like a rancher herding a recalcitrant blurrg. "Get going," he commands, as if leaving wasn't your idea. "The sooner we get back the sooner I can show my appreciation."

The countdown timer on your wrist goes off as you're sprinting back to the spaceport, Din half-dragging, half-carrying his bounty and your legs unsteady with the added weight of the beskar. 

Both of you ignore it.

***

Your escape goes as smoothly as can be expected. Which is to say you make it to the ship alive and with cargo in tow, even if you’re both bloodied and sweating by the time you hit the loading dock. Your Mandalorian is unusually quiet once you reach the relative safety of open space. Less than talkative even after he puts the bounty in carbonite and then promptly hauls you off to his bunk to pleasure you in every way permitted to him by his Creed. You enjoy yourself anyway, his solemn attention to your body steadfast as you moan and quiver under him, although you miss the hot litany of filth from him that frequently accompanies such occasions.

He doesn't say anything beyond the strictly necessary until you're eating dinner together in the cargo bay -  or rather, you're eating and he's watching you eat, as has become your routine during meals. The beskar ingots are stacked on the makeshift table between you in tidy lines, as though Din can’t quite believe they’re real and needs to confirm for himself by handling them. You shift a little in your seat on the floor, curling your legs, bunching more of your loose tunic under yourself as a makeshift cushion. Certain parts of you were not just tired but outright sore by the time Din was done demonstrating his... appreciation. You hadn't had time to restock on supplies, so you raided the freeze-dried rations to put together something resembling a meal. You've just snagged another bite of reconstituted fungal protein when he picks up one of the ingots and turns it over.

"I wonder what clan this came from," Din says, partially to you and partially to the metal itself. "Whoever they were, they're probably all dead. You said you found it running cable?"

"Yeah. Happened to see the security system from the attic. I got lucky," you say around a mouthful of food. "The door was there and it looked interesting."

"You didn't just get lucky," he objects. His tone is still absent, as if thinking about something else. "I got lucky. I got very..." but the rest of the sentence trails off. You lift your head from your noodles to find the helmet pointed directly at you, as though he was waiting for you to look up.

"I got lucky. I am lucky," Din says, softly but firmly, and reaches across the beskar to take your hand in his.

THIS BLOG IS DEFUNCT DUE TO A GLITCH IN TUMBLR'S SYSTEM. PLEASE FOLLOW @weird-writes INSTEAD FOR UPDATES.

[ihrtnjm]

welcome to my blog! ♡ i'm jeya (gee-ya), she/her, '02 !! my biases are jaemin, jaehyun, johnny, and jisung :D

i've been a kpop fan for years, but i'm still new to writing fics! i go to uni, which means i am busy !! please be patient ;;

links: twitter / carrd / masterlist

status: open to requests and soft hours ! writing for: dream, 127, wayv, and riize!

before requesting: check if reqs are open, don't ask me if i have anything written -- i am a busy student.

guidelines: i currently don't write smut, so please don't suggest it! i write fluff, angst, and suggestive themes. when i do intend to write smut, i will update with boundaries! i don't write: member x member, poly (i just can't write it rip), angst (it just makes me sad LOL maybe something will come up but please don't ask me to write it), any form of discrimination, i write fem!reader but gn!reader is fine too! i will let you know if i am uncomfortable writing a request. i am also a lowly little writer. please be patient w/ me!

notice: all works are completely fictional! they are all exclusively characters, and not what i believe they are irl.

to minors: please do not interact. while i am writing fluff and suggestive, i'm not comfortable with minors interacting with my work. i''ll also be reblogging nsfw content on my blog so please don't interact with me PERIOD.

**please do not repost, translate, and plagiarize my work! i only post on ihrtnjm on tumblr! i am just a person who likes to write, it shouldn't warrant stealing my work!

thank you for visiting and reading !! i really appreciate it :D

[crispy-chan]

I posted 1,355 times in 2022

400 posts created (30%)

955 posts reblogged (70%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@crispy-chan

@chanstopher

@decembermoonskz

@chogiwow

@myvalzpival

I tagged 1,332 of my posts in 2022

Only 2% of my posts had no tags

#rbs 🧃 - 463 posts

#stray kids 🪐 - 383 posts

#srb 📌 - 213 posts

#jas bambles 🎐 - 186 posts

#mail 💌 - 179 posts

#moots 🏷 - 125 posts

#loml - 114 posts

#memes 🧹 - 75 posts

#games 🎲 - 72 posts

#ot8 - 71 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#what got me was that paragraph about reader regretting they didn’t spend more time w/ him // didn’t keep more letters and take more pictures

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

felix navidad | lee felix

❧ pairing: prince!felix x gn.baker!reader

❧ genre: fluff, mild angst; royal!au, baking contest!au, s2l

❧ wc: 5k

❧ warnings: language, typical royal problems (servants, children working, etc), it's implied that reader's parents aren't in the picture (PG)

❧ summary: when the crown prince asks you, a lowly baker, to help him win the annual baking competition, you can't resist the sweet deal he proposes. during the course of 14 days, lee felix learns that there are as many ways to mix batter as there are ways to fall in love with you.

❧ a/n: hello guys <3 please welcome this surprise not really fic I wrote for brennan. it was a lot of fun getting to know her and I highly recommend you check out her blog!! this fic is a part of @freckledwinterfalls 's secret Santa event . tysm xie for hosting such a fun event !!

❧ to @seoulbinz: hiii brennan <3 I'm your secret Santa!! i really enjoyed talking to you and getting to know you, even if I didn't know you (other than seeing you occasionally interact with a few people I know) prior to the event!! you're really sweet and I feel really lucky that I got to be your secret Santa. anyways, I hope you enjoy this little piece. here's a funny story, I actually deleted (accidentally) half the draft yesterday so I had a late night typfest lmfao. after that, when I went to post, the tags on tumblr were officially #brocken so I hope you don't mind that I waited till the morning to post this. this also turned out a lot longer than I expected so I'm really sorry for that (I ballparked it around 2k lol). anyways, I'm sending you all my hugs <3 I hope you enjoy this and stay safe <3

masterlist

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394 notes - Posted January 2, 2022

#4

stray kids as jobs they would be doing if they weren’t in a band

bang chan. goes through college on a swimming scholarship. eventually finds his passion for music and cooks up some sick beats in his basement. first hit song is obviously wow. has an ig account where he posts sweaty gym pics.

lee minho. fisher by day and cat choreographer by night. in the evening rich aunties drop off their cats at his place and he teaches them some sick moves.

seo changbin. professional gym trainer/life coach turned underwear model. got kicked out of his first job bcs his clients were discouraged by his guns 💪

hwang hyunjin. street artist who eventually got scouted to hand out perfume samples in the mall. that year the store's sales nearly tripled.

han jisung. failed stand-up comedian/weatherman for some unimportant local tv station. his side hustle consists of selling wrinkle creams and vitamin shots over the phone to your grandma.

lee felix. fortnite twitch streamer who goes viral over his pretty freckles and deep ass voice. dabbles in asmr but ultimately decides that he's better off without all those weirdos in the comments.

kim seungmin. choir singer studying to become a prosecutor. his first client is suing han jisung for false advertising.

yang jeongin. instagram fashion influencer studying to become an elementary school teacher. joins a content house but quickly leaves after realizing it's just a bunch of dumb fucks who film thirst traps and walk around the house shirtless.

405 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#3

a guide how to not f*ck over your writers

hello, i am joining the bandwagon with my own two cents on how tumblr interactions have gone from shit to lower shit.

first of all, let me just stress how much i appreciate readers who interact with fanfics. you guys are the true mvp's and i applaud you for doing god's work. (also let's be real a significant portion of those readers are fic writers themselves).

second of all, i want to say that i'm not trying to be “ungrateful” or sound like a prick, i just see so many writers leave this site because they feel unappreciated, alone or they think that nobody enjoys the fics they work hard on.

honestly, there were/are times where i think if this is even worth it. i get so much enjoyment from this, it's a hobby that allows me to be creative, to escape reality and have a little fun. yet i feel like what i'm doing is just good for nothing since it seems like people are allergic to me on this site.

it truly means a lot to us when you guys interact. it doesn't even have to be much, just a short comment, but it can still make our day

now onto the ways you can support your fave writers:

1. interact with the fics -- comment, reblog, send asks. trust me, you can't go wrong with this one. don't be afraid to send an incoherent wordspill or type out that essay in caps lock where you go nuts about your favorite scenes, comment on the characters and their development or compliment the author's writing style. again, i guarantee you'll receive answers that are similarly incoherent as the author tries to not lose their shit bcs what the fuck? someone is finally interacting with my stories

2. recommendations -- you can rec fics to networks for various events, send your recs to your moots or maybe even to fic rec accounts who accept recommendations. even by reblogging - you're already basically doing this. it can make our day when we see that someone recommended something we worked on to someone else :)

3. interaction -- usually, most authors on here wouldn't mind more asks that don't even have to be about fics. you can ask how their day was, talk to them about a favorite book/movie/song literally whatever. i feel like i don't really have much to say on this topic cause i don't really get these types of asks :} but yeah, i think most of us would feel really touched if people wanted to talk to us outside of our writings. note: if you're shy, you can go on anon :> it's there for a reason :P

4. criticism -- now be careful - this one is tricky. you should first make sure if the person is okay with you giving some constructive criticism. if it isn't mentioned anywhere on their page/at the bottom of their fic, just ask. i for one wouldn't mind hearing things like “just a suggestion but i think you could work on your descriptions more” or “be careful - you often use the same words in one paragraph” etc.

lastly, i wanted to stress that you shouldn't force yourself per se to do these. nobody wan't your feedback if it isn't genuine. i just feel like people think “oh well if i won't comment, i'm sure somebody else will-” bullshit! that's the problem here. this mindset is what has to change. if you want the writing community to not wither into dust, you'll have to give something. in this case it's interactions and feedback.

i won't go into the details of how long it takes to write but as someone who writes primarily long fics, i can tell you it's extremely time consuming. and i spent the past fifteen minutes typing this post instead of working on yellow wood @_@

so yeah, this is a desperate cry from me. i'm hoping that if you're a silent reader/serial liker who doesn't leave feedback, you'll learn something new here. thank you for reading so far and i hope you have a lovely day <3

417 notes - Posted July 13, 2022

#2

happier ៚ h.js

❝ I like to think of happiness as a visiting friend. It doesn't have to be something big or grandiose but it comes out of the blue when you need it the most. ❞

៚ PAIRING. han jisung x gn!reader

៚ GENRE. fluff, angst; college!au, s2l, f2l, (hurt) comfort, romance, drama

៚ WARNINGS. language, food, discussions of mental health and allusions to anxiety and/or depression, crying, misunderstandings (not between the main pairing), (PG-13)

៚ WORD COUNT. 20k

៚ SUMMARY. after volunteering to become a subject for jisung's psychology final, you assume your monotonous life will simply go on. but suddenly, there's a lot more drama in your life and you feel yourself plummeting. but there's hope - especially when jisung vows to change that, taking you on fun 'dates' in order to restore your faith in happiness and show you why life is truly worth living.

៚ A/N. asksjskjs i am back from the dead with this shorter fic for my beloved ji . this piece is a bit more personal to me so i hope i did it justice <3 tysm @dini-chu for the lovely banner :3 and thank you @r1oboxv for beta reading the beginning of the fic (you can tell that the quality of the first two parts is way better than the rest lol), you're like a professional editor lmao; @intotheneozone and @celestialgyu for going over the rest <3 nala your comments were really helpful and so funny at times gaaah :')) and the ficscafe ensemble for helping me out with specific parts i felt stuck on, tysm guys T.T

MASTERLIST

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432 notes - Posted September 4, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

A Song of Ice and Fire

❝ they say the crimson king is as ruthless as the freezing winters of your land...❞

𓏲 PAIRING. prince!minho x princess!reader (ft. guard!jisung x reader)

𓏲 GENRE. fluff, angst; royalty!au, fire-bender!minho & ice-bender!reader, historical drama, action, romance, love triangle/forbidden romance, arranged marriage!au, subzero!au

𓏲 WORD COUNT. 35k

𓏲 WARNINGS. language, mild violence, minho is a jerk at first, cliche asf, mildly suggestive, a brief allusion to assault (but it's stopped before anything happens), blood, injuries and tending to them (i am not a doctor), food, mentions of war and famines, poison, mentions of death, reader gets carried around and has hair that can be put in a ponytail, petnames, includes the rest of skz as various people (TV-14)

𓏲 SUMMARY. when you agreed to marry the prince of the crimson clan in order to sign a peace treaty, it feels like your entire life is crumbling down in front of your eyes. forced to move to another kingdom, you're afraid of being shackled in a loveless marriage. minho's reputation precedes him, and the stories you've heard aren't exactly great. yet the seemingly perfect kingdom has many secrets, along with a dark history that goes beyond anything you would've imagined...

𓏲 A/N.  ot related to GoT at all!! just liked the title lol. inspired by the webtoon subZero. this is just a flaming pile of garbage lmfao - i started this fic back in july but i only got like 1k before i gave up. then, i recently picked this story back up since i didn't want to give up on it. a lot of effort went into this, but i recognize that this story isn't perfect. i came to a realization of how much i despise my writing style while i was writing this :<. i'm a tad bit afraid that only like two people will read lol but oh well, we shall see :) on a lighter note, i really hope you enjoy and please don't forget to lmk your thoughts as i'll literally jump with joy :> side note: the reader comes from the azure clan but the royal guard is caled the cerulean guard.

𓏲 SPECIAL THANKS TO. @luvseos for beta reading the prologue-ish part, tysm!! (also, i'm so so sorry i am not able to tag you so i assume you deactivated :( ) @hyuukais and @kurosism for going over the first part of the fic! thank you guys a lot and i really appreciate all of your nice comments and suggestions <3 big thanks to @sw1mmingfoolz for reading through the first part! thank you for all your sweet comments :> and @celestialgyu​ for going through the entirety of this. I was nearly gonna start crying in the dms tysm <3 @seung-scrittore oh my god leo you are a savior for going through this entire monster!! thank you! i can't stress it enough how grateful i am <33 i really appreciate it :< also sorry for having to correct shitty typos and my malfunctioning grammar lmfao @chaninfused furat thank you for listening to my rambles as i was losing it on main lol. it was really nice and helpful talking to you, especially as your (self proclaimed) no 1 stan lol. also shout out to your arab prince! minho cause i'm still on the agenda and i can't deny i thought of him while writing this. go read danse macabre  for some quality prince!minho (and great plot) @choihaiyun for the amazing banner idea/creation <3

MASTERLIST

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675 notes - Posted May 25, 2022

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