So I Have A Mildly Popular Reblog And Put In In The Tags Post Going Around And Its. Very Clear How Many

so i have a mildly popular “reblog and put in in the tags” post going around and its. very clear how many people don’t know how to interact with a tumblr post

so, first of all, tumblr’s culture has changed a lot in the past couple years. there’s a genuine community effort to not start any drama, and ironically a lot of the current hostility is an effort to keep things calm. there’s also a change in how people interact with posts, so if you haven’t been here in a while please skip down to the tags/replies/reblog with text section.

for newcomers: you should be reblogging posts about as liberally as you would like something on twitter. if you only like stuff, people will think you are rude/a bot. you’ve probably heard people talk about “cultivating your dash,” and thats because this platform is 100% centered around your dashboard. trending matters less, unfollowing and blocking in order to shape your dash into it’s best form is widely accepted, the majority of the content you’ll find and interact with will be because of your dash, and the only way to put things on your dash is to reblog them. tumblr users are deeply distrustful of algorithms and have largely turned off the “see posts your friends have liked” function (i recommend you also turn of the various algorithms in settings → general settings → dashboard preferences).

so, once you’ve reblogged a post, there’s three ways to add content to it. the tags, replies, and reblogging with text. all of them have different connotations

the tags: an inside voice. originally they were meant for organizing your blog (and they’re still used for this), but they’ve also morphed into a way to share thoughts that aren’t funny/insightful enough for non-followers to be interested in. when in doubt, put your comment in the tags

replies: basically talking to your friends in class. your followers have no way of finding your replies (they don’t pop up on the dash, nobody gets notified except for the original poster) so chances are, only the person who made the post is gonna see your comment. it’s for quick one-offs that you’re okay with other people overhearing, but really is only made for one person. they’re like a public dm

reblog with text: an outside voice. you’re getting up on a stage in town square and entertaining people. make sure it’s funny or insightful— bottom line, add something new to the conversation. you should use this the least

general rules of thumb: 

when in doubt, reblog. people will judge you if your blog is only personal posts and you only interact with other content by liking it.  

the only things people will judge you for reblogging are personal vent posts. leave a like to give a little virtual hug

if a post is asking about your personality/opinions (i.e: tell me what’s the last tv show you watched, that kind of thing) put it in the tags 

also if you see a nice edit, gifset, or art, reblog and say something nice in the tags! it’s that nice sweet spot of common enough that no one will notice but uncommon enough to make the artist’s day

((what happens after the camera stops rolling))

Fives pauses before he leaves the room again.

"Think about it, Rex," he shakes his head, and a ghost of a bitter smile crosses his face. "The only number she knows is yours. Yours, Rex. Why would she memorize it, if you didn't matter to her above all the others?"

Rex is rendered silent, and not simply because he can't combat the truth of what Fives is saying...

...He knows good and well who is waiting for him on the other end of the galaxy-- the one who spends her days vehemently lobbying to only ever address him and his brothers by name, and yet who bothered to memorize his CT number by heart anyway because it matters to them. All of them. It's the one thing that's theirs.

"We matter." Fives checked the hall ahead of him. "Each of us. Or else they wouldn't have put this fire in our chests to keep going. To do the right thing... You've always made that clear to us, Cap."

And when Fives flipped the lid to his bucket, he caught sight of the ARC pauldrons set on his shoulders in his peripherals,

"You made it clear to me."

Rex watched Fives leave. He didn't bother to keep him back to put his head on straight, get that temper in check... because it wasn't misplaced. It was righteous, a fair fury. Fives had it together-- always has, when it came down to it.

.. It's why Rex made him an ARC in the first place. He just hoped that fire didn't get him killed...

HE NEVER LETS GO OF BELLAS HAND EVEN WHILE HUGGING OTHER PEOPLE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭BC HE KNOWS THAT THEY ARE A COMFORT TO EACH OTHER 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭I CANT DO THIS 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

Can I ask about two things? Blue Mando-Paz Feels and The Touch Barrier? Feel free to only answer one! This is @newpathwrites btw.

Hekk yeah I'll answer both, @newpathwrites!!! Let's goooo~

The Touch Barrier | Ver. 1 under the cut

Ah my lovely fic headcanons with no real name... The Google Doc I have my drabbles about Paz Viszla are on just a funny sheet called quite literally Blue Mando Paz Feels. We had so little Paz content at the time I began writing these in 2019, but when I tell you my mind went wild...

Big blue boi Mando had my heart from the get go, and I quickly envisioned a nameless little OC (that I have yet to get onto paper). I paired him with a gentle soul who has a heart bigger than her head, and shakes the moment a gun is put into her hands-- but I think that brand of softness may be just what he needed in this harsh lonely world Mandalorians are so used to. He's big, he's blue, and it's cuffing season.. all I gotta say on that.

Now that I've seen more of Viszla in Season 3 I HAVE NEW SOURCE MATERIAL MUAHAHAHA but (ach-hem) I really do think the newest episodes helped me figure out his 'voice' so I might pick these little stories back up!

//psst my favorite of these is one where oc/reader's helping him clean up after a yucky, muggy recon mission, seeing him scrub himself really hard and she fusses over how rough he's being-even with himself. I go into how to care for your beskar, some Din Djarin rivalry-ish backstory, and how SWEET Paz can be when he's treated gently... Perhaps I'll flesh this one out if there's interest?

But also... my beloved:

I answered a bit on my different directions on The Touch Barrier here... But I imagine you'll be most interested in the first iteration of it, so here's a snippet!!

"Are we ok?"

The helmet straightened up, fixed to you again from its nervous evasion. "What?"

"You look like a caged lothcat right now.." you shared, unable to hold back a smile. "And here I thought we were on hugging terms~"

Inside the beskar suit, Mando’s neck flared with heat. And before he could silence himself,

"..we are?"

You hummed noncommittally- betraying your whole-hearted desire.

"I hoped so. At least I thought we might be, based on how you boarded the other day. Unless you didn't necessarily want me there. After all, I know you were kinda having a hard time staying upright."

Only then did Mando's beskar curves slide more naturally into place. No longer bolted to the wall but angled catty corner to you. 

He recalled the 'hug' referenced, but he also remembered how he'd cupped your head to him after you'd brought him up to the cockpit-- that one was for comfort. Not stability.

"I was. But that's not why I .."

–but before he fully finished his train of thought, the baby in the hold let out a frustrated garble of calls as a rolling ball clinked out of his reach. Each plunk echoed down the rungs until it rolled off to parts unknown. You snorted, wondering what on earth he was getting into up there.

"Gosh, that little guy. Sorry, what were you saying?" you recentered from your distraction.

With a lag in his shoulders, the Mandalorian thought the truth to be the best answer. But still wanting to answer to the Child, he nodded his head on for you to continue down to the hull, and he'd follow,

"I was just going to say," he answered, "I didn't do that because I couldn't stand on my own. i-i mean I couldn't, true, but the thing is, I 'wanted to'..." 

His heart was thundering, some cracks in his words were audible,

"I was bleeding out all over the floor. But really, l I could think of was just how grateful I was that you hadn't been hurt. You were safe, and seeing you? I was relieved."

Now side by side in the open air cargo space you smiled, feeling a bit like the silly girls in the holonovels when they pushed their hair behind their ears.

"Well... For one, I'm glad you're not bleeding all over the floor."

That earned you a breathy laugh, "Thank you."

"And for two, I'm- glad you wanted to. Because I may or may not have been wanting to, myself.." 

Mando paused in his strides. which you matched. Even though you were unable to read his expression, you gave a satisfied little smile with your answer, 

"So… it sounds like we're on the same page."

"Sounds like we are."

The Child whined again, making both tip their head off to the side, perfectly in sync.

"I can go get him-- meet you back up top?"

"Okay." He nodded and they split.

Back in the cockpit, you wrangled the bouncing little potato sack. Mando turned when you came in, hearing you corral the kid trying to jump out of your arms to get a better view from his pram.

"Ok ok kiddo, good grief– your seat's but going anywhere!" You shrilled. Planted into his blankets, he sat back in content, swaying side to side, taking in the stars and clusters they were passing in awe.

"Handful?"

"More like tryin'a be a hand-empty, the little wiggle worm." you sassed. His playfighting was all in good fun.

The Mandalorian spun to meet you. First and foremost, you know he'd set the locks on the overhead panels on the side wall, but then he surprised you when he faced fully after you readjusted your clothes the kid had tugged every which way.

"You're good with him. He seems happy to have someone else around." He complimented, stepping into your space. 

Then- finally- meeting your sparkling eyes with all their silent anticipation of his arms, he wrapped around you to pull you in. You locked him in by the waist. 

Then, slightly softer, he nearly whispered, "and.. he's not the only one."

Smushed slightly into his flight suit padding above his chest plate, you smiled. The pats you gave him back passed assurance and as much comfort as you could manage in this relatively tiny hunk of metal in the vast black dust of space. 

"Feeling's mutual, hon."

Hope you liked it!! More of this may come one day...

...dangit.. now I wanna finish this. (le sigh)

FIC FILE ASK GAME

RULES: post the names of the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, and then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! tag as many people as you have WIPs

Thanks for the game, @newpathwrites! Aren't you just the bees knees~ 🐝

Trustfall

Frozen

The Touch Barrier

Ghivashel

Blue Mando-Paz Feels (braindump)

Spicy Edit 1 (lol)

Hamilkanera

Tea Times

The Barracks (might change)

//this random list goes from most ready to least ready, but all are mostly conlleted-- just various stages of editing!//

No pressure tags: @fizzyxcustard @emmyspov @sotwk @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie @blankdblank @albionscastle @knittastically @heilith

Share away to anyone I missed on this go 'round, I'm so excited to see these from everyone!!

Eyes truly are the windows to the soul 🥰🥰🥰🥰

The Color of My One’s Eyes

Summary: A soulmate au, where Thorin and Rowena find each other through the unusual color of each other’s eyes. A pre-Quest of Erebor au.

Fandom: The Hobbit

Relationship: Thorin Oakenshield/ OFC Rowena

Rating: Teen

Warning: a tiny bit sensual, also some misogyny ( not from Thorin; he’s too gentlemanly).

Content: pre-Quest, Blacksmith Thorin, light angst, happy ending, Dwarven Ones, soulmates.

Word count: 1.9k words

If you wish to be added/ removed from my tag list, please let me know. Thank you.

It was with some hesitation when Rowena left her father's house that early afternoon. As long as she didn't meet anyone at the smithy, she was fine. Except for maybe his newest smith, a Dwarf; the few he'd hired before tended to mind their own business. They were surprisingly polite to her sometimes. Just as well; they didn't know about her condition, nor care to, unlike the people in her village, especially that smith who'd worked for her father up until three days ago.

He'd told her she'd never wed because she was strange, and would've gone on with his taunts, but the fierce Dwarf who'd happened by had given him such a death glare that he'd slunk away swiftly. Her father had dismissed the smith after that, but Rowena was still saddened over the incident and almost too afraid to do her usual daily chore; taking food down for the smith.

"He was probably right too; I'm strange because I can't see deep blue, not until I find my soulmate by that color of his eyes," she thought miserably, "but he's not here in my village. Why was I cursed with that way of finding him?"

At least the Dwarf, whose hammer blows fell so hard and heavy now as she approached, wouldn't judge her, since he didn't know, nor would care to. She'd just pop in, leave the basket of lunch, and go, and resign herself to her usual life with her parents.

Another forge, another day's work, and another day's worth of suspicions and unkind words from Men, Thorin thought as he set up his tools to work. While the race of Men admired Dwarven crafts and skills, they were all too often unkind and cruel, and Thorin was naturally suspicious of them, one and all. Or the men specifically; they weren't good to their women at all.

He still remembered Dwalin sharing how he'd stared down and frightened a man who'd taunted a young woman, here in this very village. How they could be so cruel to such precious creatures was more than Thorin could understand. No Dwarf would ever treat a Dwarrowdam in such a manner. And Thorin knew well he'd never treat his One in such a fashion- assuming he ever did find his One. Her eyes would be emerald green ( he saw that color as gray), and she certainly wasn't among the Dwarves who lived near his home.

Well, he'd do his week's work, collect his coppers, and head back to his home, away from these heartless Men. Dis would be happy he'd found something; her boys were growing rapidly and needed food and clothing. He had no time at all to worry about his One.

Shedding his tunic, Thorin took up the tongs, and soon his strong hammer falls rang throughout the smithy as he shaped the glowing piece of metal into a pickaxe head.

Rowena entered the smithy, fully intending to leave the basket and go, but the hammer's ringing blows were so strong and loud she had to stop a moment and watch the Dwarven smith at his labor, if only for a moment. Surely he wouldn't know- oh!

He was shaping a pickaxe head with strong yet precise blows on the anvil, but what really caught Rowena's eyes was him; he was stripped to the waist and gloriously muscular. Black designs of a raven and some strange runes were inked across his skin. Rowena couldn't take her eyes off his rippling biceps, back, and chest muscles as he moved around with his tools; they did something to her, igniting a strange, unfamiliar warmth in her belly, and a blush across her cheeks. She had to step closer...

It was precisely in that moment Thorin chose to look up from his labors. He started when his eye landed upon a young woman with blooming cheeks practically opposite him. How long had she been watching him, he wondered.

Rowena jumped when his startled eyes met hers; she hadn't expected those keen eyes to catch her gawking like a lewd girl as he labored, half clad, at her father's forge. Eru, she was being lewd. And her father would be so angry with her for that.

"Sir, I'm- I'm very sorry-" she stammered, trying to look everywhere else, but at him. In vain; his glorious naked chest was branded deeply into her memory.

"Just- just give me a moment." Thorin's cheeks were blooming too as he reached for his tunic. He hadn't expected company, from a daughter of Man, no less, to come walking in. And, Mahal, she'd caught him half naked too! Why that suddenly made him feel flustered, he didn't know.

"I'm decent," he said briefly, tugging his tunic hem sharply. He hoped she wouldn't tell his employer; the last thing he needed was to be dismissed for being half naked in front of a respectable woman.

The woman turned her face to look at him, her cheeks still glowing with shame.

"I didn't mean to gawk- don't tell my father- the man who hired you- please!" She sounded almost frightened. "He always told me that unwed women shouldn't look at unclad men!"

Now that he knew that she was more worried about getting in trouble than he was, Thorin felt a rush of relief and sympathy. "You have my word of honor; I will say nothing to your father." He caught her eye. "I usually don't strip naked when I work, but it got too warm for even a Dwarf in here."

Rowena nodded, relief flowing through her, as she held Thorin's steady gaze. Eru, her father would've been so angry if he'd known. "I am Rowena, daughter of Hal," she said simply.

"I am Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain." Thorin spoke cautiously, ever wary of sharing his royal titles among strangers.

"I am pleased-" Rowena stopped. She blinked furiously, telling herself she wasn't seeing things. But somehow, Thorin's eyes weren't gray anymore. If anything, they were a beautiful color; deep blue with a silvery cast, and they complimented his long dark lashes beautifully. He was so- Rowena stopped her thoughts. He isn't- how did that even happen?

"Rowena-" Thorin stopped, frowning. He could've sworn Rowena's eyes were gray a short while ago. Right now, they were emerald green, the prettiest shade of green he'd ever seen, and the color made her skin glow. Mahal, she was beautiful- Thorin stopped his thoughts fiercely. Why am I thinking that of a daughter of Man?

"Thorin, what- how? I couldn't see that particular shade of blue until just now. I- I don't even know what to say." A feeling of dread and rejection gripped Rowena; what if Thorin was angry about her being his soulmate? It couldn't be denied; she couldn't see deep blue until the moment she'd looked into his eyes, and Eru bless her, her soulmate had beautiful eyes.

"I don't know." Thorin was baffled. "I didn't know what emerald green looked like, until you came in. I'd always known that my One would have eyes of that color. I didn't expect to meet her here, among Men." Frankly, he wasn't sure how to explain his conflict; he'd always been suspicious of Men and their ways. And now his One was of the race of Men. Thorin wasn't sure how to feel about that.

Rowena's heart sank. He didn't want her clearly; she was of a race he didn't seem to like, possibly for serious reasons of his own, but it still hurt. She turned her head away slowly; best he didn't see her cry.

"Rowena!" Remorse stricken, Thorin was beside her swiftly. Durin forgive him, he'd hurt his One by judging her along with the unkind members of her people. "I didn't mean to be so harsh."

"Thorin-" Rowena let him draw her close; she put her arms around his broad shoulders, threading her fingers through his hair. It was thick, but so soft in her hands. And if she was still crying, it was with joy this time as Thorin pulled her closer. He did want her. "Thorin, I forgive you. It's that- I've never been treated kindly for being different. The smith before you- he was so mean to me one day, and blessed be that Dwarf who frightened him."

This was interesting. "Was he a fierce looking Dwarf, with tattoos on his hands?" Thorin asked intently.

"Why, er, yes. And fierce eyes too. He did frighten me a little. You know him?" Rowena lifted her head to look at him. Thorin chuckled grimly. "He is Dwalin son of Fundin, my cousin and guardsman. He was looking for work here too, which he couldn't find, and he told me about frightening a Man for taunting a young Woman." His blue eyes grew fierce for a moment as he stroked Rowena's tear streaks with his thumbs. "Women are scarce in my race; we protect and cherish them. You would've never been subjected to such treatment had you lived among my people, Rowena daughter of Hal. This Man will regret it yet."

"Thorin, please don't get into trouble on my account. It's in the past now." Rowena nuzzled into Thorin's palms with a soft moan; she quite loved his large, hard hands, and the thought of them touching her sent a rush of warmth through her.

Her reaction wasn't missed; Thorin's eyes suddenly darkened as he looked into hers. Then he was drawing her face closer to his; Rowena's hands threaded into his hair to clasp his nape, drawing a sensual rumble from him. "Rowena," he growled.

"Thorin," she whispered breathily, just before their lips met.

Their kiss was soft, gentle as Thorin carefully explored Rowena's mouth; his beard was prickly but soft against her skin. Rowena hummed contentedly, soaring amid the joy of finding her soulmate and the realization that she loved him, wanted him.

Then he was nipping her lip, asking entrance; Rowena parted her lips, and moaned when their tongues met, entangling together in a heated kiss that grew deeper. Her legs quivered from the forced bending over, and Rowena knelt down. Thorin gripped her waist, drawing her closer with one hand while his other hand tenderly held her nape.

They parted, panting and starved for air, but Thorin didn't release Rowena, not just yet. He nuzzled against her, savoring the softness of her neck, cheek, and form; she wasn't as hard and broad as a Dwarrowdam, but she was his One and his soulmate, and all the more beautiful. "Rowena," he murmured against her hair, "Rowena, my love, my Amrâlimê."

"What does it mean, Thorin?" Rowena was certain it was something lovely, judging from his tender tone.

"It means my beloved, in the language of my people," Thorin drew back to gaze at her tenderly, "and you're my beloved, Rowena. I was wrong to judge you by the actions of a few of your race." He looked serious then. "Not many have been kind to my people and I in our wanderings."

There was a long, sad tale behind those serious eyes, Rowena thought. "I'm sorry for how they've treated you," she said simply.

"Don't be, you're not like them." Thorin leaned in to nuzzle her nose. Rowena's eyes fluttered shut as she rested her brow against his forehead; stray strands of hair tickled her skin, sending pleasant little thrills flitting through her.

"Rowena?" She opened her eyes to find herself gazing into twin lakes of deep blue framed with long black lashes. Thorin's soft gaze warmed her to the core.

"Thorin?" Rowena whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment with a louder tone.

"I love you, Rowena daughter of Hal."

Nothing was brighter than the joy that shone in Rowena's eyes. "Thorin," she murmured, "I love you too."

Then they melted together as their lips met in another kiss; a tender, sweet kiss that spoke far more than they ever could.

Tag list: @fizzyxcustard @lathalea @sotwk @glassgulls @heilith @court-jobi @knittastically @middleearthpixie @emmyspov