#|| in case they need to blacklist other tags. ||

[wolfchans]

Eat! Eat, it’s okay! You eat! YOU EAT! ↳ 9 / ∞

[shima-draws]

Scrolling through the BNHA tag on AO3 and while it does make me very happy to see so many Aizawa + Izuku centric fics it also makes me sad bc WHAT ABOUT ALL MIGHT. I know canon has established how much Aizawa cares about his kids and Izuku specifically but Toshi loved him FIRST!! Toshi was the one to take Izuku under his wing and train him and care for him and help raise him and mentor him and LIVE for him despite everything telling him he couldn’t. And he was the one who refused to let Izuku go off on his own and did everything in his power to make sure he was at least eating and sleeping and being cared for despite being and feeling so powerless. Toshi’s such an important part of Izuku’s life and people need!! To address that more!! That’s his DAD!!!!

Anyway I see the ‘All Might bashing’ tag and immediately scroll past. I don’t trust you if you don’t love and appreciate Yagi Toshinori and his place in Izuku’s life like he deserves

[misskriemhilds]

For the sleeping ship ask game: Homura/Madoka!

who is a night owl: homura, please go to sleep.

who is a morning person: neither of them? the scene we got of madoka in the morning shows her as initially being kind of eepy before she goes to wake up her mom.

are they cuddlers: y e s

who is the big spoon and who is the little spoon: madoka will forever be the little spoon.

what is their favorite sleeping position: s p o o n

who steals all the blankets: madoka. though she's very apologetic about it.

what they wear to bed: listen. there's official merch of the truly adorable jammies all five of our main girls wear. so i'm pretty sure it'd be that.

who likes seeing the other wear their t-shirt: neither of them sleep in t-shirts, they're pretty stringent about the pjs. homura is adorably awkward in madoka's bunny slippers, though.

who falls asleep mid conversation: madoka.

who wakes up in the middle of the night with nightmares: well, the whole series opens up with madoka's nightmare but considering (vaguely gestures) everything that homura's experienced, i would be more surprised if she didn't experience nightmares.

who accidentally punched the other in their sleep: neither.

who can't keep their hands to themselves: they've long since lost count of the amount of times madoka has woken up in the middle of the night because of homura squeezing her too tight like she's a giant teddy bear

send me a pairing and i'll tell you my sleepy headcanons for them!

[thegraphitepencils]

The weekly catch-up phone calls with my soulmate who broke up with me “for my own good” yet still expects me to be his best friend are becoming more a source of anxiety than comfort lately folks

-Riley

[elainemorisi]

like, the only true whopper in lo these two seasons has been Armand's credit-claiming for the (onstage) lifesaving, right. which was allowed to persist for not even the duration of a full episode. I don't think I'm forgetting anything here, right?

anyway, would be nice if more theorizing noticed that lol

[jopzer]

feeling very in the muddy middle of this jamie fic im writing >:/ was full steam ahead writing about his childhood and the start up to the series but now that ted is here i am feeling a Touch lost in da swamp

[breawycker]

You're so right

early 00s comics be like. everyone was SO mean to stephanie for NO reason.

[elumish]

In the wake of what's going on in the world, I see a lot of rhetoric that basically boils down to the idea that everyone has a responsibility to watch every bad thing that's going on in the world all the time. That awareness itself is a responsibility that everyone has always.

I'm not going to say that people do or don't have a responsibility to be aware of things, but I want to talk about how to take care of yourself and others while doing so.

For some context, I spent close to a year and a half reading about every terrorist attack in the world as part of my work on the Global Terrorism Database. It was 2015/2016, so this was the height of ISIS/Daesh, it was a major time for Boko Haram, and it was when there was a lot of political violence that we weren't sure how to classify in places like Yemen, Crimea, and Libya (stuff the GTD didn't know how to classify had all of is information recorded, and then it went into purgatory until someone above my paygrade decided what to do with it). What this means is that I was spending 10-20 hours a week reading about hundreds or thousands of attacks a month and, in my case, recording infomation about the type of attack and the type of weapon. Much of my life was reading terrible things.

Limit what you do in isolation. One of the worst changes for me during that time, mental health-wise (even though it was great for my commute) was when I went from working in-person to working remotely. With other people, there are ways to diffuse the pain. A burden shared is a burden halved and all that. That may mean talking about it, or joking about it, or finding some other way to engage with it that isn't just reading about the most horrible things in the world and then stewing in your own thoughts about them.

Find something to do that's totally unrelated. I highly recommend finding something to do with your hands, if you can (knitting, Lego, cooking, whatever), but regardless of what it is, you should have some time when you entirely switch away to something different. During a fair amount of my time with the GTD, I was also doing my undergrad thesis about terrorism on TV, so a huge amount of my life was about terrorism in some way. The only other thing I watched was Great British Bake Off, and I would just rewatch the episodes, over and over.

Be compassionate about how you share information and with whom. Use trigger warnings, and consider using consistent tagging on places like Tumblr so people can blacklist it if they need to. Also consider whether it's appropriate or necessary to share photos of bodies or other results of horrible violence. What is it accomplishing, to show that? Can that goal be accomplished other ways that don't require the equivalent of jumpscares of unexpected photos of dead or brutalized people? Are you just showing it because you think that everyone should have to see it? If you are showing it, are there ways to mitigate against harm it may do?

Do what you can to avoid an echo chamber. Sometimes, when everyone around you is upset or angry about the same thing, it just amplifies itself, and you all get angrier and more upset in perpetuity without accomplishing anything.

Work towards action. Watching terrible things happen for the sake of saying that you haven't looked away isn't as meaningful as taking action in some way. Write to your Congressperson. Donate. Do whatever is appropriate for the thing you want to stop. But penance via watching terrible things happen doesn't accomplish anything.

Recognize compassion fatigue and do what you can to mitigate it. If you spend long enough doing this, you start to lose context, and you start to become less able to have compassion about things. If you're reading about attacks with dozens or hundreds of deaths regularly, five can start to not seem like that many. If you're reading only about the worst suffering in the world, "lesser" suffering of those around you can start to seem unimportant and petty. Do what you can to mitigate that.

Be kind to yourself. You do nobody any good if you burn out. Look away, if you need to. Take a break. Do things so you can enjoy life, because otherwise you are just another person suffering in the world. Other people's pain isn't a hair shirt for you to wear.

[reachartwork]

the process

a lot of people like to ask me about my process and how ai can be "creative" because they're under the impression that it's just kind of a big slot machine. you pull a lever and art uncontrollably comes out. well, let me show you my process

this is going to be a long thread tagged with #long post, blacklist that if you want to skip it.

so how it starts like most art is that i have an idea. in this case, earlier i made a post about witch-knights "surfing" on swords, so i'm going to try and make that - a witch-knight flying through the air atop one of her swords.

it starts with this picture.

i think this picture is dogshit so i discard basically all of it to try and find something closer to my original intent. there's a couple of uninteresting regenerations so it's clear i have to go back to the drawing board and teach the machine what it is i'm trying to do

let's start with a witch-knight on a broom. it's definitely not great but it gives us a better pose that i can work with.

i start by erasing the broom and replacing it with a skateboard - the machine understands skating better for what i need it to do.

there's a ton of small, subtle errors in this image and it overall looks like dogshit but the most important part right now is blocking and the overall pose structure - i need her "surfing" a large, lengthwise object, in the sky. i start by erasing pieces of the skateboard

now we have a sword, which is good. but the sword itself looks... bad. i'll spare you the abortive attempts at selective regeneration of the sword and just show you what happened when i rolled it back a couple of times from this pose and let it regen entirely.

again, tons of small little shitty errors, but this is something i can work with. i do another regen for a less shitty sword. her boob armor gets replaced with, like, generic scale mail.

this image has a great sword and decent pose but like... everything else is kind of futzy and i dont like it. instead of trying to pick and choose i just throw it back into the oven for a second. much better! but now she's going to cut herself on the sword, oh no!

again, i'll save you the agonizing thirty minutes of trying to get it to understand where the foot should go. unlike before i didn't really have a choice except to muscle through. there! now she's surfing safely :)

so it's done, right? well, i mean, i could post this. and it would probably do okay. but *i'm* not satisfied with it. there's stiffness. dozens of minor errors. the eyes look weird when you zoom in. let's start by fixing her hat, and then maybe her hands?

but she's missing fingers on her left hand so let's go ahead and fix that too. and i don't really like the tip of her sword and the ocean looks really flat and boring. so, VERY CAREFULLY, i have to etch out the parts of the sword and her body i have to keep, and also write an entirely new prompt to tell it "i want an ocean w/ rolling waves please :)"

this is better but not great. i try again - serendipitously, it makes this really cool variant with a shadow over the water, but i know working with that will take more wrangling so i'm considering it an evolutionary dead end and discarding it for now.

i proceed to spend 30 minutes trying to make the ocean look better but it's really not working imo. i'm gonna go back to the shadow version and see how that works

i'll spare you the other 8 minutes - i'm satisfied with the following picture. the sword isn't *perfectly* straight, her eyes aren't perfectly textured, the scale mail is... weird, in texture, but anything else would be greasing the wheel and i think beyond the machine's ability to do fine detail.

i've also attached the starting picture for comparison - it has better, "higher quality" clouds and ocean but i personally cared more about the pose and the sword surfing - the background is mostly tangential. could i get back ocean and clouds of that quality with another two hours of painstakingly cutting and re-generating bits of the background without destroying any of my existing work on the pose? probably. but i don't want to.

total time spent on this piece from start to finish was one hour and twenty one minutes. and now you know!

[novella-november]

Just curious if there will be an adult version of the Novella November community made? Or what do you mean by no NSFW?

There will be just the single community run on a trial basis, no adult versions, and by "No NSFW" I mean.....no posting things that are *Not Safe For Work* within the Community.

Not Safe For Work means,

"If I was in the breakroom at work scrolling Tumblr, or let someone borrow my phone and the community was open, and a coworker, my boss, or a customer saw my tumblr dash, would I get in trouble/weird looks for having something on display not appropriate?"

so, to break it down, no NSFW content means:

No Nudity/suggestive photos/drawings/illustrations

No written sex scenes

no posting gore photos/drawings/illustrations

etc.

There's no age limitations on this community event, and I'm pretty sure Tumblr's rules have kids as young as 13 on here, so "no NSFW" is a basic rule to make sure the Tumblr Community feature itself is something everyone is safe to interact with.

You are free to post NSFW posts in the actual tags for Novella November, just, obviously, you need to tag it with "NSFW" so people (like me!) can filter them or choose to view them with a click on a case by case basis, instead of them just being fully visible and sudden on my dash. (2014 Tumblr was a horrible time to be unable to blacklist tags.)

I think we've all seen the porn bots which are starting to take over and spam popular tags again, which is a great example of why people want to be able to filter NSFW content.

NSFW means Not Safe For Work -- if you wouldn't be comfortable with your parent, friends, or coworkers seeing it on your phone, it probably needs the NSFW tag, and in this case, shouldn't be posted in the Tumblr Community feature for Novella November, but you are free to use the tags #Novella November and #NovellaNovember for all your usual posting

EDIT for clarity:

From replies:

Horror is perfectly fine to post in the community, as long as you're not posting really graphic images out on there own, and as long as general content warning tags are used for people with specific triggers or phobias to filter it, like #body horror, #eye horror, etc.

If someone asks you to add a trigger tag to an existing post please do so to help keep the community a safe and friendly space for all;

some other common trigger tags are:

#Flashing (for any videos/gifs that involve flashing lights)

#Insects (a general tag for all bugs and similar creepy-crawlies)

#Spiders (for anyone with arachnophobia)

etc.

From my second reblog: I remembered this is Tumblr so, for those worries, no, Queer content is *not* automatically NSFW, no matter what certain ceos would have you believe. 🏳️‍🌈✨

[3dlove]

BOOTING UP 3DLOVE . . . BIRTHDAY EDITION !

Hello and welcome all, it's that wonderful, scare-filled time of the year! A month-long birthday event won the poll, so here we all are, except this isn't a month long anymore because life Really didn't want me making this event. I cannot be stopped, though! This event consists of two concepts: Inbox trick or treating, as well as prompts with rewards for completing them as a little bonus for my birthday coming up! Extra event info under the cut, it's party time! ;D ☆

Trick or treatin' season ^_^

Inspired by a few other blogs I've seen doing similar concepts, this part of the event is quite simple. Send a 🎃 and a character (+ a theme, optionally) into my inbox and I'll spin a wheel to decide if you get a trick (joke/experimental edit) or treat (genuine edit with that good ol aqua 3dlove editing style™) and spin another wheel to see what type of edit you get.

If you decide to knock on my door with the intent of getting an edit, please keep in mind my blacklist when choosing what character you want to get something of, and please specify if there are any Halloween themes you do not want in your edit (ex; blood overlays, knives, medical stuff, etc)

The rotation of the Aqua around the sun 👍

I've survived another year of being alive, wow! For this joyous occasion, I've also prepared some prompts for the 20th of October until the 31st. Prompts can be submitted until the 3rd of November, just in case anyone needs to catch up! I went with Halloween themes, mostly, but also some stuff I thought would be fun and stuff I personally like. Because. Birthday! Me! Yay :D

Tag me in whatever you make for these prompts so I can see what you make, and optionally use the tag #aquaday2024 . If you complete the entire event (all 12 days) you get 6 edits from yours truly. If you complete half of the event (6-11 days) you get 3! Please keep in mind my blacklist when claiming rewards :)

20th: Edit something involving horror media. Any kind, whether it's a game, movie, show, anything.

21st: An edit featuring a character you love and a character you dislike/hate.

22nd: An edit using fall colors or motifs associated with fall (orange, brown, leaves, pumpkins, whatever you associate with autumn)

23rd: Edit something themed after vampires. Vampire themes, vampire characters, whatever you want!

24th: An edit themed after water, the ocean, aquatic life, characters who are related to these things, whatever you want :D

25th: Free day. Either take a break, or edit whatever you want!

26th: Edit something while trying to balance out creepy and cute aesthetics!

27th: Use this random aesthetic generator and try to make an edit based off of what the website generates.

28th: Edit something while trying to make it the opposite of your typical editing style. Usually use bright colors? Desaturate em! Use a lot of clipping masks? Try to use none, or as few as possible. If your style is complex, try doing something simple, etc.

29th: Planning to wear a costume on the 31st? Edit something based on it, or otherwise inspired by it! If you aren't dressing up, edit something based on your favorite Halloween scary thing (monsters, spiders, masked slashers, etc)

30th: It's my birthday, wow! Another free day, although if you do want to edit something, it's encouraged to edit something that reminds you of me, wink. No pressure, of course, as this day can also just be a little break before Halloween ^_^

31st: Go all out with Halloween related stuff, I dare you. Be as obnoxious as possible with things you associate with the holiday!

The scariest part of all..

Now that that's all out of the way, time for me to ask oh so nicely for some promo! No pressure if I've tagged you, as always ^_^

@rookmeo @xoxobyte @lovesick-level-up @ipcventurine @rwuffles @winecovered @gur0hana

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Everybody Hates Neyo Round 2: Matchmaking Boogaloo

A/N: This is a standalone sequel to “Everybody Hates Neyo,” (NSFW) by @dystopicjumpsuit​ (that’s me), and “The Blacklist,” by the brilliant @blueink-bluesoul​, who also generously let me borrow the character of Daria Trace (THANK YOU!). You don’t need to read those fics to understand this one, but you should because they’re great and they provide more background. I converted the Reader-insert into an OC because to be frank, she’s a piece of work, and I didn’t want to project that onto my readers. That said, as always, feel free to insert yourself into the story if you prefer; I haven’t described the OC beyond being a woman with hair long enough to pull.

Pairing: Commander Neyo x the Admiral (formerly Fem!Reader)

Rating: M | 18+ | Minors DNI

Wordcount: 6.5K (I know)

Warnings and tags: toxic, obsessive behavior; SO MUCH SMUT; hatefucking; rough sex; oral sex; PIV; hair pulling; biting; sex under the influence of alcohol; Neyo and the Admiral being absolute menaces to society

Disclaimer: Let me just put on my Auntie DJ hat for a second. *ahem* This is a work of fiction intended for entertainment only. Please do not take this as a guide to romance or a healthy relationship. Neyo and the Bad-miral are flawed characters in a wildly problematic relationship with more red flags than the Fire Nation. Enjoy!

Matchmaker extraordinaire Daria Trace was not accustomed to failure. When she applied her considerable intellect to a problem, she did not stop until she formulated a solution. Which was why her now-99% matchmaking success rate galled her so intensely. In all her years of matchmaking, she had never encountered a client so stubbornly determined to thwart her efforts as Marshal Commander Neyo. After twelve failed matches—one of which involved a call from an infuriated woman demanding to know “why the kriff you thought I was a good match for that sociopath”—she had reluctantly conceded defeat.

The blacklisting of Commander Neyo from the Right to Love Matchmaking Service spread like wildfire through the GAR gossip channels. Most of the troopers thought it was hilarious; others insisted that he’d finally gotten what he deserved. In fact, the only people who seemed to have any sympathy for Neyo were Commanders Bacara (to be expected) and Fox (somewhat less expected). And when Fox reached out directly to Daria and asked her, as a personal favor, to give Neyo one more chance, she agreed. One more chance, and ONLY to give her an opportunity to get that track record back up to a perfect 100%.

She glared irritably at Neyo’s file and clicked her stylus three times, twirling it between her fingers. The man was impossible. It was no wonder he’d turned to RTL for help finding a partner; any woman in her right mind would run in the opposite direction the minute she looked into those blank, frigid eyes. She shuddered involuntarily. Shark’s eyes. Daria had made a few discreet inquiries after he’d first signed up for the service, just to make sure she wasn’t about to set up some unsuspecting match with a serial murderer. Without fail, every single answer said the same thing: he was an ice-cold sonofabitch, but he had a strict code of honor, and no, he wasn’t a serial murderer. Probably.

She sighed and tossed his file to the side, to be revisited some other day. He was her most difficult client, but by no means was he the only problematic match candidate, and she had a small stack of what Blizzard liked to call The Hopeless Casefiles waiting for her to review. Just thinking about Neyo’s case had given her the beginnings of a spectacular tension headache, and she flipped through the folders quickly, looking for one that was a little less challenging. As she skimmed the stacks of flimsi, her eyes came to rest on one name: Reeda Wai’yen.

Now there’s a thought.

Daria was sure that Reeda was a lovely woman, despite all evidence to the contrary. She was just very… intense. Like Neyo, she had chewed through several potential matches, and the most frequent word that appeared in her failed matches’ post-date surveys was “intimidating,” followed closely by “terrifying.” Daria had sniffed disdainfully that those particular matches simply couldn’t handle a strong woman; however, she had to admit that after several months of trying, she had not been able to find a perfect match for Reeda. She pulled Neyo’s file and laid it out next to Reeda’s. As she compared their backgrounds and preferences, she became more and more convinced. This could work. Given their personalities, it might well be the best possible outcome for society at large if they were both removed from the dating pool. And if it happened to close out her two most annoying files, well. That would just be the cherry on top of her perfect-track-record sundae.

A timid knock sounded on Reeda’s office door.

“Come,” she called shortly.

Her assistant, Lissi, poked her head into the room. “Sorry to bother you, sir, but you’ve received a comm from RTL Matchmaking.”

Reeda cursed. She was up to her ass in flimsiwork, and she was meeting with the Senate Task Force on Galactic Security in ten minutes. She did not have time for this now. 

“Take care of it,” she ordered.

“Sir?” Lissi asked, her wide, startled eyes giving her a distinct resemblance to a terrified ash-rabbit. 

“Just take care of it,” Reeda repeated, tamping down her irritation at being questioned. “You know my schedule better than I do. Set it up. Somewhere nice—somewhere in the Federal district. I don’t have time to deal with traffic.”

Lissi blinked, nonplussed. “Don’t you want to see who you matched with?”

“No time,” Reeda said, rising to gather her materials for the meeting. “Just put it on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”

Three nights later, Reeda sat in the restaurant at the top of the tower where her penthouse was located, waiting for her mystery date to arrive. She had to commend Lissi’s efficiency in choosing the venue; the only traffic she’d had to endure was at the lift. And it was a lovely restaurant, she had to admit, with stunning views of the Coruscant cityscape. She had only eaten here once since she’d bought the flat, usually opting to have food delivered to her office at the Republic Center for Military Operations as she worked late into the night.

She had resisted the urge to bring her datapad with her to the restaurant, knowing that if she did, she would inevitably get sucked into work, but now she wished she’d taken a moment to review the file from RTL. It wasn’t that she thought all clone troopers were interchangeable; far from it. She had worked closely with them during the war, had fought by their sides, and she had found them to be brave, competent, and loyal. They were also notoriously attractive, but she was a professional, and she was their superior officer, and she had never allowed that line to become blurred—except on one memorable and highly regrettable occasion.

She had had no time for a personal life during the war, but now that it was over—well, to be honest, she still had no time for a personal life. Which was exactly why she had reached out to RTL; it was the perfect solution. She didn’t enjoy solitude. She wanted companionship, and maybe even something more. But she needed a partner who would understand the demands of her career, and nobody understood the burden of duty better than the clones. Now that she had separated from the GAR and returned to her post in her home planet’s military defense force, the rules regarding fraternization no longer applied to her.

She hadn’t bothered to review the file because she’d learned from the previous several failed dates that a promising file was no indicator of compatibility. Still, as she waited for her date, who was now seven minutes late, she wished she’d at least checked to see if he had any identifying marks or tattoos that would make him easier to spot. To be fair, though, the few clones present in the restaurant were already paired up with other diners.

Her stomach rumbled. She hadn’t intended to skip lunch, but she’d had back-to-back meetings with the joint chiefs of the Core Worlds Defense Alliance and the senate appropriations committee, and one thing led to another. The service droid had delivered a basket of fresh, hot bread rolls, which she had heroically resisted for the first six minutes past the scheduled start of the date, but now her resolve began to crumble. If her mystery date didn’t have the basic courtesy to be on time, by the Force, he wouldn’t have a leg to stand on if she ate all the bread before he arrived.

She buttered a roll and took a small bite. She couldn’t suppress the groan of relief at the buttery, yeasty goodness, and she quickly polished it off, then picked up another. She had just begun to butter her third role when the unmistakable voice of a clone spoke next to her.

“Admiral.”

She turned automatically, a smile just beginning to form on her lips, when she caught sight of a familiar set of numbers tattooed on a handsome, arrogant face.

“Oh, no,” she said with disgust. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Marshal Commander Neyo replied contemptuously. “I have as much right to be here as you do.”

“I’m on a date,” she snapped.

He looked pointedly at the empty chair across from her. “Looks like your date has a strong sense of self-preservation. Probably took one look at you and ran for their life.”

“He’s just a little late,” she said, tilting her jaw at a haughty angle to hide the flash of hurt at his words.

“That must kill you,” he said with a mirthless chuckle. “I remember the time you made a Jedi padawan cry for being three minutes behind schedule.”

“There were barely tears. Do. Not. Sit,” she gritted out as he made himself comfortable in the chair across from her. He picked up one of the remaining bread rolls and took a large bite, and she sighed. “Why are you here, anyway?”

“It just so happens, I am also on a date,” he said, mumbling around the bite of bread.

“Oh?” she wrinkled her nose at his table manners. “And who’s the unlucky lady?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Some civvie named Reeda.”

Her hand tightened dangerously around her butter knife. Neyo’s eyes dropped to the blade, and he smirked.

“Disappointed?” he asked.

“You could say that,” she said, grinding her jaw. “I’m Reeda.”

He choked on his bite of bread and wheezed a bit, pounding his chest to clear his airway. Alas, he survived.

“What?” he sputtered.

“You didn’t even bother to find out my first name after you were inside me?” she demanded. Her sharp tone attracted attention from the surrounding diners, and she heard a few quiet titters from the tables around her, but she was too irate to care.

“You didn’t even bother to find out who’d be eating dinner with you?” he retorted.

“Don’t pretend you aren’t just as surprised as I am,” she snapped. “Didn’t you read the file?”

“I didn’t get a file, just a call.” He grunted. “Apparently, ‘beggars can’t be choosers,’ and I was lucky to get a match at all.”

“Why am I not surprised?” she mocked.

“Careful, Admiral. Don’t forget they matched you with me.”

“I would be insulted if it weren’t so obviously a mistake. I can’t say I’m impressed with their performance thus far.”

“For once, I agree with you,” he said. “You’d have to be a special kind of incompetent to think we were a good match.”

The service droid approached the table and asked, “May I take your order?”

“He’s not staying,” Reeda cut in.

“I’ll have the bantha filet,” Neyo replied, ignoring her. “Bloody.”

He turned to her and arched his brows. The droid waited expectantly.

“I’ve suddenly lost my appetite,” she lied.

Neyo’s mouth twisted, and he huffed a breath through his nose. “The admiral will have the roast porg. And a bottle of Alderaanian red.”

The droid nodded and ambled away. Reeda glared at Neyo.

“I don’t eat meat, you presumptuous ass,” she said.

“Liar,” he said. “Unfortunately, the souls of the innocent weren’t on the menu, so I had to settle for your second-favorite meal.”

“At least you’re safe, since you obviously have no soul and you’re definitely not innocent,” she said in a pleasant tone.

Damn him for being right about the porg, though. How did he know?

The wine arrived, and he poured a generous glass for each of them. She didn’t toast; just downed half of it in a single swallow. Neyo sipped his and leaned back in his chair to observe her. His sleek, severe hair and the large tattoo on his cheek made him look menacing as hell, but it was his eyes that made brave men take a step back. She didn’t know how it was possible for his eyes to be that unnerving. Gods, why did he have to be so handsome? What a waste of perfectly good Fett genes to have a personality like that.

“Did you stay just to torment me?” she asked when the silence stretched beyond the limits of her endurance.

“And because I heard the filet was good,” he said affably. “What are you even doing on Coruscant? I thought you’d scuttled back to whatever hellhole spawned you.”

“Kuat,” she bit out from between clenched teeth. “I was assigned to work as our military liaison on Coruscant.”

“Couldn’t stand having you back on the planet?” he derided. “I don’t blame them.”

“I need to use the fresher,” she said, flinging her napkin down on the table with excessive force. “Feel free to die while I’m gone.”

She strode purposefully through the restaurant, her face set in a steely mask. She knew she was drawing attention from other patrons, but if she sat at that table and listened to Neyo needle her for one more second, she was either going to stab him or burst into tears. She pushed through the refresher doors and went to the sink, washing her hands just to give herself something to do. The face that stared back at her from the mirror was Admiral Wai’yen, not Reeda. Stern. Unyielding. Unaffected.

She swallowed, and her face crumpled. Tears of rage stung her eyes, and she ruthlessly wiped them away with her clenched fist. A soft noise at the door startled her, and she whirled to face the intruder. Horror flooded her. It was Neyo, and he’d caught her crying in the ladies’ room.

“What the kriff do you think you’re doing in here?” she demanded icily. “Get out.”

He stared at her for a moment, and then he locked the door. Stalking across the room, he cupped her jaw in his hands and tilted her face to get a closer look. She tried to pull away, to put her Admiral Wai’yen mask back in place, but then his thumb stroked softly next to her eye, wiping away the tear that had breached containment. She gasped involuntarily, and his lips collided with hers.

Reeda was so shocked that for a moment she went perfectly still, but then Neyo flicked his tongue across her lower lip, and her body remembered how to move. She thrust him away and stood back, glaring at him. His chest rose and fell quickly, and those cold eyes blazed with a dark and covetous fire. She raised a hand to her lips and felt the slickness left by his tongue. Something snapped inside her. She took two hasty steps forward, and she was in his arms again, his hands rough and dominating on her body as they consumed each other with a kiss that teetered on the edge of violence. 

Lips, tongues, teeth crashed together. He clasped her tightly against his hard, unyielding body, and unbidden, the memory of him deep inside her came flooding back. He gripped her ass and ground his rapidly stiffening cock against her. Her reaction was electric. She rolled her hips, nearly climbing him in desperation. He dropped his mouth to her neck and kissed her once, roughly, and then to her breast, yanking aside her dress as he closed his teeth on her soft skin. He picked her up by the waist and set her on the edge of the sink, dropping to his knees between her thighs, rucking up her dress around her hips, and then his mouth was on her.

He didn’t even bother removing her underwear, as though he couldn’t wait another millisecond to taste her. He licked and sucked on her through the fabric, his mouth working frantically. Her body jolted and trembled at the effort of staying upright, and then his tongue snaked past the lace and dipped into her, smooth and hot and wet. He let out a vicious growl and grabbed her hips, settling her thighs over his shoulders, and then he pulled her off the sink and thrust her against his face as his tongue speared over and over into her cunt. She yelped and scrambled to brace herself with her hands, her arms shaking with exertion.

She couldn’t come like this, but kriff, it was hot to feel Neyo throw her around with such ease, like she was his own personal toy. How many nights had she fucked herself to sleep to the memory of their first encounter? The way he’d lifted her bodily off the ground and thrust into her, supporting them both with those powerful thighs—it played on a loop in her head for months, long after the bite marks and bruises had faded.

His tongue slid out of her cunt and swirled around her clit, and her legs spasmed around his head. She couldn’t come like this. Could she? All the muscles in her body began to tense, and her pelvis began to rock rhythmically against his face. Shit, I’m going to come. No sooner had the thought formed than Neyo dropped her back onto the sink and pulled away from her.

“No!” she wailed. “You bastard, I was right there!”

He shot to his feet. “Shut. Up,” he bit out, and kissed her punishingly hard. “Do you want the whole Federal District to know what we’re doing?”

He pulled her head back to expose her throat, and he scraped his teeth across her delicate skin. She felt his other hand fumbling in between them. Within seconds, his cock was free and thrusting against the scrap of lace that still covered her. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him against her, determined to find the stimulation that she needed to reach completion.

“Get inside me,” she hissed.

“You aren’t calling the shots any more, Admiral,” he growled. “You don’t get to give commands.”

“I hate you,” she breathed. 

“And yet here you are, begging for my cock,” he said coldly. 

“I do not beg,” she said. “Ever.”

He released her hair and pried her legs away from himself, then took a step back. “You get nothing until you admit that you want me. I’ve waited a long time for this. I can keep waiting.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” she demanded, sliding off the sink to stand in front of him.

“It means you give me what I want, or I walk out that door right now and you can figure your own shit out.”

Was this his twisted kriffing way of asking for consent? Because she was pretty sure she’d covered that when she all but ordered him to fuck her.

“Fine,” she said in a low voice. “I…” She nearly choked on the words, and Neyo’s intent gaze pinned her in place. “I want you.”

He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss, then spun her around and bent her over the sink. He pulled up her dress, yanked down her panties, and thrust into her. She muffled a whimper at the intrusion and squeezed her eyes shut as she adjusted to the stretch. He wrapped his hands around her hair and jerked her head up.

“Open your eyes. I want you to watch,” he ordered.

She complied, shocked when she saw her own ravaged face in the mirror as Neyo pounded into her from behind. Her makeup was smeared, her hair was a wreck, her eyes were dilated with lust, and a sheen of sweat glistened across her skin. She flicked her gaze to stare at Neyo. His face was twisted into a scowl, and if she had any sense at all, she would have been frightened, but she was in too deep to care. His hard eyes met hers in the mirror, and his jaw tightened.

He released her hair and slid his arm around her body, between her breasts, to wrap around her throat, and he lifted her upright so he could whisper in her ear.

“Do you know what you did to me?” His voice was hoarse and anguished. “Every time I kissed someone, all I could taste was you. Every time I hooked up, all I could remember was this perfect fucking pussy.”

He pounded into her with bruising intensity, furiously working her clit with his free hand. Her head began to throb. This was so wrong. He couldn’t be saying what she thought she was hearing. She was confused from the lack of blood flowing to her brain.

“I got matched twelve different times, and not one of them was right, because not one of them was you,” he snarled. “You cursed me. You haunt me.”

The world began to darken around the edges as her eyes drifted closed, and he released her throat and forced her head to the side so she faced him.

“Look at me when you fucking come,” he ordered.

She gasped, and he clamped his hand down over her mouth to muffle her scream as he wrenched an orgasm from her body. He didn’t let up, chasing after her at a frenzied pace that rocked her entire body as she sobbed into his hand.

“Inside?” he asked roughly.

She nodded and whimpered as tears blurred her vision and spilled down her cheeks. He came with two brutal thrusts, and she felt the hot rush of his release deep inside. He shuddered against her hair as his cock softened and slipped out of her. At last, he loosened his grip and turned her to face him as he leaned against the wall for support. He wrapped her in his arms and stroked her hair as she rested her head against him.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she sighed as she licked his neck, unable to resist the temptation of tasting his skin.

“I’m sure there’s an official list in my GAR file,” he said, pressing a soft kiss to her temple.

Reeda cleaned up quickly while Neyo went back to their table so they wouldn’t be spotted leaving the refresher together. Her hairstyle was destroyed, so she hastily repinned it as well as she could, and then wiped off the mascara that smudged heavily beneath her eyes. A quick reapplication of lipstick, and she almost looked presentable—with the minor exception of her missing panties, which Neyo had silently retrieved from the refresher floor and tucked into his pocket while maintaining strong eye contact.

When she returned to the dining room, Neyo waylaid her with a ferocious expression. Force, what is he scugged about now?

“We’re leaving,” he said, taking her by the wrist and pulling her toward the exit. A few quiet murmurs whispered around the room as he dragged her behind him.

“What?” she asked, tugging her wrist to no avail. “Why?”

“The karking droid gave away our table,” he said.

“My deepest apologies, Admiral,” the droid said. “We can locate another table if you would care to wait.”

Reeda assessed the room quickly. Every table was occupied, and none of the diners were anywhere close to being ready to leave. Moreover, at least half of the customers were eyeing her and Neyo with expressions ranging from amusement to overt curiosity.

“No,” she said. “Have the food delivered to my flat.”

“Right away, sir,” the droid replied, waddling off to relay the order to the kitchen.

Neyo looked at her inquisitively. “Your flat?”

“I live in this building,” she said. “Come with me.”

She was keenly aware of the many sets of eyes that tracked their hasty exit, but before long, she led Neyo into the private, secure lift that opened directly into her penthouse. He stood silently next to her on the trip up, watching her with an inscrutable gaze. She tried not to give herself an opportunity to second-guess her decision to let him into her home. Strange, she thought, how this seemed more intimate than allowing him inside her body. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d allowed another person into her home. 

The lift doors opened, and he followed her into the flat, pausing long enough to remove their shoes, then looking around curiously.

“Lived here long?”

“A few months,” she said. “I bought it when I found out I’d be stationed on Coruscant long-term.”

“It’s nice,” he said. “Very… clean.”

She laughed. “You mean sterile. I haven’t had time to do much decorating. I’m hardly here except to sleep, anyway.”

He nodded. “I thought I’d have more time for hobbies after the war ended, but now it’s just nonstop—”

“Red tape and committees,” she finished with a sympathetic grimace. He shot her a wry grin. She didn’t think she’d ever seen him smile before, and it did uncomfortable things to her brain. She tried not to think about it, instead asking, “What kind of hobbies? Aside from plotting my slow death, obviously.”

“Oh, you know,” he said vaguely. “Torturing small, adorable creatures; sharpening my vibroblade collection; collecting stamps; that sort of thing.”

She blinked. “I can’t tell if you’re joking.”

He regarded her steadily for a moment, eyes unreadable as ever. “You really think the worst of me, don’t you?”

She was taken aback. “I—”

Her reply was cut off by the chime of the door. The food had arrived, thank the Force, which gave her a moment to stop herself from blurting out her immediate thought: You’ve never given me any reason to think anything else.

Neyo was a competent soldier—brilliant, in fact. There was no question that he had one of the finest tactical and strategic minds in the GAR. But as a person? From the moment they’d met, he’d been antagonistic, sardonic, cold. He’d challenged her authority and provoked her in meetings. He’d only treated her with the barest semblance of civility in public, and in private—Well. They both knew how things went when they were alone.

The service droid rolled a cart into the dining room and began setting up the meal.

“Can I get you a drink?” she offered Neyo. “I don’t have any Alderaanian red, but I do have Cheedoan whiskey.”

“The good stuff,” he replied. “I’ll have a glass. Thanks.”

The droid finished setting up and shuffled out the front door as Reeda poured two generous glasses of whiskey at the wet bar.

“Ice?” she asked.

He didn’t answer, and when she turned around, she nearly dropped the glasses in surprise to find him standing close behind her. He locked his eyes on hers and never looked away as he took one of the glasses and drained it in a single swallow, then set it down with a decisive click on the counter. Her heart began to pound as he loomed over her. He traced his fingers from her elbow up to her wrist, and then he wrapped his hand around hers and raised her glass to her lips. 

The whiskey burned a fiery path across her tongue and down her throat. A few droplets escaped and splashed coldly on her chest. Neyo didn’t let up until she emptied the glass, and when she was done, he leaned down and sucked the liquor off her skin. His hands dropped to her hips and slid up her back as he located the zipper of her dress and dragged it down excruciatingly slowly, and all the while, his mouth moved across her skin. He slipped the straps down over her shoulders and let the dress fall to the floor, and then he kissed a path along the lacy edge of her bra.

“Thanks for the matched set,” he said, unhooking it and pulling it off.

“Those were expensive, asshole,” she said unsteadily.

He didn’t reply, but she knew she was never going to see that bra again. He kissed his way down her breast and captured her nipple in his mouth, abrading it lightly with his teeth. She jolted, and the empty glass slipped from her hand and smashed against the hard tiles of the floor. 

Neyo barely responded to the sound of shattering crystal. Reeda froze, keenly aware that the smallest movement could result in a bloody footful of glass. She stood utterly, helplessly still as he continued to explore her body with his teeth and lips and hands and tongue. He was thorough in his attentions, and something about being entirely at his mercy was wildly arousing. Her head spun as the whiskey began to work its insidious way through her bloodstream.

“I missed this perfume. What is it?” he murmured against the soft skin of her abdomen.

“I don’t wear any,” she said.

He nuzzled against her as though he could transfer her scent to his own skin. Without warning, he scooped her up and carried her out of the room, completely disregarding the risk to himself. But instead of dropping her as soon as they were clear of the broken glass as she expected, he asked, “Bedroom?”

“Left,” she said, and he strode across the flat and kicked open the door, to her intense irritation. “You gonna pay for the broken doorknob?”

He didn’t reply, just tossed her onto the bed and pounced on her as soon as she landed. He slid in between her thighs and gripped her hard as his mouth descended on hers, kissing her as though he were trying to devour her soul. He was still fully clothed, and she scrambled to pull off his shirt. He was completely unhelpful, too engrossed in her taste. She raked her nails across his skin as she yanked his shirt over his head, and he seized her lip in his teeth in revenge.

At last, the barrier of his shirt was gone, and she writhed against him, desperate to feel as much of his warm, smooth skin against her as possible. They clashed together, sinking nails and teeth into each other. At some point, Neyo got his trousers down enough to free his cock, and he shoved into her. His belt chafed harshly on her delicate skin as she wrapped her legs around him, urging him to go deeper, harder, faster. The sounds they made were unholy, primal: growls and grunts and screams of pain and ecstasy as they tore into each other with all the aggression that they had built over the years. 

She pulled his hair; he clawed her back. She slapped his face; he bit her shoulder. She snarled that she loathed him; he interlaced his fingers with hers and whispered how beautiful she was when she came apart beneath him. She thrust him away and kicked him across the bed; he pinned her down and fucked her until she sobbed and begged for more. At some point, she tasted blood, and she didn’t know or care whose it was. And when at last she lost count of how many times he’d brought her to orgasm, he curled his body around hers and traced his thumb softly over her features as she drifted to sleep.

“If I die while I’m inside you, it’s the closest I’ll ever get to heaven,” he whispered.

“Force, you say some kriffed up shit,” she grumbled.

Reeda awakened slowly, aware of something blissfully warm and soothing moving across her skin. She cracked her eyes open. Neyo was lying on top of her, dragging his tongue lazily over her body. He roamed along her curves, and it wasn’t until he paused at her bruised wrist that she realized what he was doing.

“Are you licking my wounds?” she breathed.

He didn’t answer, but his eyes met hers with an intensity that bordered on madness. Gods, everything about this was so fucked up, and she didn’t dare examine too closely why she found it so incredibly arousing. He moved slowly, meticulously, his tongue gliding softly over every centimeter of her body, until she felt like a bomb, ready to detonate at the slightest spark. She came before he ever reached her cunt, and again as he rocked gently inside her, his lips soft against her mouth, silent tears spilling from the corners of her eyes to course down her temples.

After, he guided her into the shower, and when her legs gave out, he held her upright as the hot water washed over them. Once he’d massaged her entire body with his strong, soapy hands, he dried her off and laid her back on the bed while he spread bacta across the damage he’d inflicted. It was disorienting to be cared for so thoroughly by the man who’d spent the better part of four years making her life hell. He didn’t speak, and she didn’t know what to say, so in the end, she simply watched him in silence.

When he finished with the bacta, he retrieved their dinner from the dining room. The food had long since gone cold, but after hours of intense physical activity, they were famished, and they ate it anyway, sharing bites and sipping whiskey straight from the decanter. Neyo sat with his back against the headboard, his long, strong legs bracketing Reeda as she leaned back against his broad chest.

“How did you know porg was my favorite?” she asked.

He shrugged. “They’re tiny, cute, and innocent. I just assumed you would enjoy extinguishing the life from them and consuming their remains.”

She laughed and snuggled closer to him. “Is that why you order your meat rare? Because it’s the next best thing to drinking straight from the source?”

“Finally, someone who understands,” he smirked. “Truthfully, I overheard you tell Admiral Coburn that porg was your favorite during a banquet at the strategy conference at Valor.”

She turned to stare up at him. “Neyo, that was two years ago. That was before we ever…”

“I know,” he said, burying his face in her hair and breathing deeply.

“Stalker,” she murmured.

He dropped his mouth to her neck, and she tilted her head back against his shoulder as his lips glided across her skin. 

“What does it say about you that you like it?” he whispered when he reached her ear.

He pulled her close, positioning himself between her and the bedroom door. From the proprietary way he held her, she knew it was a deliberate choice; any threat that came through that door would have to go through him before it got to her, and she had a feeling that there weren’t many beings in the galaxy that were brave or foolish enough to try.

Reeda jerked awake to a furious pounding at the front door. Neyo was already halfway out of the bedroom, stark naked and armed with a steak knife from their midnight dinner.

“Wait here,” he ordered, his voice hard and flat.

She rolled her eyes as she pulled on a bathrobe and grabbed a blaster from her nightstand. Neyo glared at her when she joined him, but didn’t bother yelling at her.

“Coruscant guard! Open up,” a modulated voice shouted harshly from outside the door.

Neyo glanced questioningly at her, and she shrugged, hiding the blaster behind her robe. He stepped out of view of the door, and she opened it to find none other than Marshal Commander Fox, flanked by two Corrie ARC troopers.

“Commander,” she greeted him, not bothering to conceal the surprise in her voice.

“Good to see you’re in one piece, Admiral,” he said. “Are you all right?”

“I beg your pardon?” she asked, baffled.

“We received multiple calls about a disturbance at your address. Are you alone?”

Reeda felt a hot rush of blood wash over her face and neck. “I fail to see how that is any business of yours, Commander.”

“Sorry, sir, but it’s my duty to—” He stopped abruptly, and his visor shifted to a point behind her. 

“Isn’t this a little below your pay grade, Fox?” Neyo drawled close behind Reeda.

Fox’s visor turned back to Reeda, then to Neyo, and then back to Reeda again. The two ARC troopers appeared to be fascinated by the walls on either side of the front door. 

At last, Fox spoke. “I don’t send shinies to wake up admirals.”

Neyo’s hand slid possessively around the front of Reeda’s abdomen, and he pulled her against his nude body. Something large and solid prodded against her backside. Dank farrik, is he turned on right now? Sick bastard.

“Thank you for your concern,” she told Fox, “but everything is under control.”

“So I see,” Fox replied. “Still, you’ll need to keep the noise level down, or I’ll have no choice but to arrest you for disturbing the peace.”

Neyo reached forward silently and shut the door in Fox’s face, then he spun Reeda around, picked her up over his shoulder, and carried her back to the bedroom. The last thing Fox heard was the unmistakable sound of Neyo’s hand slapping her ass as Reeda shrieked with indignant laughter.

Republic Military HQ buzzed quietly with speculation the next morning when not one, but two of the most senior command staff called in sick for the first time in either of their careers. Rumors swirled: some were convinced a secret bioweapon had been released by Separatist holdouts; others maintained that the stress of dealing with politicians was beginning to take a toll; still others claimed that it was a coverup and that the marshal commander and the admiral had been taken hostage by pirates. It was whispered that Commander Fox had a particularly haunted expression that morning, and two of the Coruscant Guard ARC Troopers had contacted the legal department to update their wills. In the midst of all this, the beleaguered Lissi received a brusque order to inform RTL Matchmaking that the admiral no longer required their services.

Daria drained her third iced caf of the morning as she flicked through her holomessages. Buried amidst the intake forms and meeting invitations was an abrupt-bordering-on-rude note from Marshal Commander Neyo ordering her to close his file.

“Why do you look like the tooka that got the blue milk?” her fellow matchmaker Tarsi Renda asked as she passed Daria in the corridor.

“Oh, no reason,” Daria smiled. “The galaxy is back to normal, that’s all—and my track record is once again perfect.”

---

DJ’s masterlist | Join my tag list here

[sm1dfc]

Info dump

Hello! Hi!

The purpose of this blog is to promote and support the works of non-native English speaker creators within the fandom.

We know creating works can be intimidating, and it takes a lot of courage for the creator to share their work with the world. Publishing something not on your birth tongue can be even more frightening.

All the respect to those who dare to take that step!

We see and love you and your works.

We also know that non-native English speaking writers and artists often get overlooked, as they don't get the recognition they deserve for their amazing work, which brings joy to many of us. 

This blog was created for non-native English speaking creators! We intend to support, promote and recommend the fruits of your hard work to the fandom.

Yes, we recognise all the hard work you put into creating something in a second language, let that be looking up the meanings of words in dictionaries, checking the meaning of an expression and whether it fits into your sentence, 

No need to be ashamed of having knowledge and courage.

Some writers or artists can easily be mistaken for native English speakers, while others might have adorable recurring errors or unique sentence structures that reflect the characteristics of their first language. But let's not forget what a feat it is to create something in the first place, then add the fact that these people do it in a different language, one they had to learn first.

Mind-blowing, isn't it?

So, let's share our love and gratitude with these people for making our fandom more colourful!

Make sure to like and reblog their works on Tumblr, leave comments and kudos on AO3, and like/reblog/comment/share on other social media as well.

How to get recommended on the blog?

Based on whether you want one or all of your works recommended/reblogged/promoted, send an ask or DM with the link to your work or masterpost. It is advised to record other social media contacts too, where you want others to find you (Tumblr, AO3, Wattpad, X (previously known as Twitter)).

If you are recommending someone else’s work, make sure they meet the requirements listed below.

Rules and requirements:

We do not ask for you to prove your nationality, if you say you're a non-native English speaker, we believe you.

We don't/won't ask you to prove your identity or your language knowledge.

However, you must be older than 18/21 years old to be mentioned on the blog. By submitting an ask/DM/email to be recommended by us, you declare that you are 18/21 old or older. We do not hold responsibility for checking that fact, as everyone is expected to curate their own fandom experiences, and everyone is accountable to join spaces intended for them.

In case someone else submitted your work to be recommended, and you don't want to be listed on the blog, contact us and we will take it down ASAP.

All pairings are allowed as long as one portrayed character is/was a member of 1D, except reader-insert fics. (Those are currently not accepted for recommendation)

The promoted work(s) must be tagged appropriately. If trigger warnings apply, they must be visibly indicated as well.

AI-generated works are not allowed.

In case someone breaks one of these rules, we will immediately delete all promotions we previously did. We also add this person to our permanent blacklist and block them. If needed, we will reach out to others and let them know about the information that might be concerning for them, too.

Let's see an easy example for this: an underage fic author requests to be added to our recommended fic writers. We add them and monitor their activity to constantly reblog and recommend their work. We notice that they sign up for a fic fest, where there is also a rule that individuals under 18 can't participate. Then, the creator accidentally outs themselves as underage, e.g. posts about their 17th birthday party. We warn them about breaking our rules, remove the posts we dedicated to them, and notify the fic fest's organisers that someone is deliberately breaking their rule.

SERIOUSLY, DON'T DO THIS! WE ASK THIS RULE FOR A REASON. Please follow the rules and wait until you are old enough to join. Once you are old enough, you can join but don't ruin fandom space for others who asked their rules to be respected.

Vocab:

Creator: the person who made the art or wrote the fanfiction.

Sender: the individual who requested the creations to be recommended by us. This could be the creator or someone who wants to promote the creator's work.

Mods: the organisers and moderators of this blog.

The blog plans to promote works in three ways:

Work(s), or a masterpost, is promoted with links requested by a sender.

The creator's works being promoted are either selected by the blog's mods or requested by the Sender by criteria (e.g., creator's favourite fics, creator's less appreciated arts, Sender's all-time-favourites from Creator XY)

The mods of this blog chose the works without being asked (if you are on the *LIST)

All three categories initially needed to be requested in above mentioned ways.

Once you get on our radar(LIST), we will try to keep up with your new content and reblog/recommend it ;) (but you can always send us a reminder if we don't seem to interact with your newer workpieces)

*What is the LIST?

Anyone who requests to be recommended gets automatically added to a list published in a separate post. We curate the list, and if someone wants to be removed from it or added to it, please let us know.

On the list, we will keep a record of the creators' usernames and all social media they want us to make publicly available** (with links). It's an easy way to find non-native English speaker creators who would love some interactions with others within the fandom.

**We will not share personal social media links. We will not link personal social media accounts that are not used for promotional purposes. If your full name, location, or pictures are regularly shared on that account, please do not ask for it to be added to your contacts. In order to protect personal information and prevent doxing, we are not willing to release sensitive personal information, even if you specifically request it.

TPWK!

All the love,

SM1DFC mods

P.S.: We will try to search our new tag: S1DFC and SM1DFC

[66sharkteeth]

I am SO sorry about that other anon good lord, who do they think they are??? You're a human being with feelings and emotions and hardships!! Or a shark I guess in your case, but my point still stands.

I, too, have been a long-time fan of your comic. CoB is my favorite webcomic and I've been loyally following and reading the updates since... end of s1?? It's been a while. BUT despite that, I know that you're still a person at the end of the day, and that sometimes you just need to get shit off your chest. It's far healthier to vent and get things off your chest than it is to bottle it up.

I haven't paid attention because I'm following like 500 different tumblrs, but may I suggest tagging your rants? That way, if people don't want to see it, they can just blacklist the tag, and you can keep getting things off your chest.

>>> Also just a reminder to everyone that YOU CURATE YOUR OWN ONLINE EXPERIENCES. The tag blocker and unfollow button is there for a reason. If you don't like what someone posts, either block the tag or just unfollow them. It's not that hard.

Sorry to that anon in that I didn’t mean to send any hate their way. I appreciate what you’re saying but I understand their point. I made this as a space for fans and I shouldn’t be using it for personal baggage. I’m just going to try to avoid using it like that from now on, so hopefully a tag won’t be necessary but I’ll make sure to do so if I do fall in that hole again. I hopefully just find a better outlet, but I just always appreciate being heard here, even if only by a few people. Even just a like on one of my posts tells me someone heard me and sometimes that’s just all I need. This was just kinda the only place I can get that since Twitter and IG would attract too much attention, and well, my private accounts… just feel like screaming into a void that just echos everything back and confirms everything I’m venting about. I’m gonna try to avoid venting here from now on and do my best to just keep it a positive fan space, but I appreciate all the support up til now whenever I’ve been having a bad night

[irritable-bowel-showdown]

Welcome one and all to the Irritable Bowel Showdown (or IBS)

Does your favorite character spend too much time sobbing on the toilet? Do they go through the entire roll, or conversely, not nearly enough of it?? Are they the unfortunate and frequent victim of an Ominous Rumbly Tummy Ache??? Do they just give off those vibes????

Then this is the tournament for you!!! We’re here to find who has the most bathroom trouble energy!!! (Submission link and rules below)

Rules and regulations:

Submit as many characters as you’d like, but please do not submit the same character multiple times (convincing others to submit them is encouraged though)

You can absolutely submit characters just off of vibes!!! However, having actual canon gastrointestinal issues is an easy ticket into the tournament.

EDIT: okay so the “instant admission” clause was a little bold of me, especially because “GI issues” is sort of vague, but I will still try my best to give characters with canon bowel issues priority!!!

Fictional characters only (I could be convinced to accept a real person if it’s funny, but don’t bet on it)

I will not be accepting Harry Potter characters. Otherwise, I don’t have any other rules on fandoms as of right now, and I plan to be pretty loose (hehe) with submissions.

However, I reserve the right to include or exclude characters as I see fit.

I’m unsure how many characters will participate or how seeding will happen, but I will figure it out once submissions close.

In case it is not clear, there will be dumb bathroom humor involved. Nothing super gross or graphic though, please.

Finally, please be kind, both to myself and to your fellow participants :)

Submission link:

(EDIT: I know the “yes” option for canon GI issues in the form says “instant admission”, but depending on submission volume and justifications I may not actually be able to promise that. Sorry!! I’ll still try my best though, thank you for your understanding!)

Submissions will be open until June 29, 4pm UTC (subject to change)

Tags:

Poll tag: #irritable bowel showdown

Asks tag: #ibs qna

Propaganda tag: #plopaganda

Other tournament reblog tag: #other polls

Liveblogging reading propaganda: #submission liveblog

Stuff not related to the tournament: #not a poll

…and more to be added if necessary. Feel free to blacklist/whitelist as needed!

That’s it! See you all in the ring!! Or the stall!!! Whatever!!!!

[kingofterrors]

Alright now I'm going to get spoilery - tagged appropriately, but just in case you don't blacklist spoiler tags, here's your warning! Agatha All Along Ep 5 thoughts below!

***

There's a famous adage - "better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to open your mouth and remove all doubt". That's usually me and any kind of analysis I'm not pretty damn sure about. However, I'm taking a risk and putting my clown makeup on here, because I think it's worth it.

If I'm wrong, this will just look like tremendous cope, and I guess I'll just embrace that.

But if I'm right...

So let's get down to it. I've seen a lot of disappointment expressed around ep5, and I understand and share it. It was short, it felt weird, people felt oddly out of character. It is absolutely entirely possible that the creative team and Laura Monti (the writer) in particular just had an off day and put out something sub-par. It happens.

But I have trust in this team and this production, and I don't think they'd slip that badly - which means something else must be going on.

So here's my theory on what that might be: let's start with the question: 'why did Teen take Agatha down the Witches' Road?' It didn't need to be Agatha. Any bunch of witches might have done it. But he chose her. Now we've had that reveal at the end of the ep, we know that Teen is in fact Billy Maximoff, Wiccan, and we also know that he has SERIOUS history with Agatha.

I wonder if the Road, and this 'trial' in particular might be Teen's attempt to either punish Agatha (lest we forget, something that was explicitly demanded in this trial), or perhaps teach her a lesson. The content of this 'trial' was fully about hitting Agatha's most vulnerable points (relationship with Mother apart from anything else) and highlighting what someone might assume is Agatha's worst sin - her siphoning power out of other witches.

Could it be that Teen is using this as a setup to really get at Agatha, to confront her about his perceived ideas about her lust for power and her callousness towards others? I'm specifically thinking of how Agatha heads out of the trial and is clearly upset, and when Teen confronts her, is absolutely nakedly clear that she hadn't been able to control the siphoning of power that killed Alice? There's no hint that she's lying - she seems fully convinced that she wasn't in control of any of that happening.

Yet Teen insists she was in control, and chose to do that. Is that because that's what he thinks about her power in general? Because he thinks that Agatha has always chosen to steal power and life from other witches - so he made that happen by manipulating the scenario and everyone in it.

The OOC-ness of the witches really begins at a specific moment - after we get the 'punish Agatha' reveal. Could this be Teen controlling them and everything in that scenario just like Wanda did in Westview? Is that what Agatha means by 'You're so like your mother'?

So that's what I'm thinking. I'm fully prepared to honk my big red nose if next episode makes it clear none of this is the case, but until then, what if...?