Luo Binghe Is Already Airplane’s Thinly Veiled Self Insert, I Wonder How Things Would Go If He Had

if this ain’t me 🥰 https://www.instagram.com/p/BwHupCrnJu_/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1bezenja6hedl

here ya go https://www.instagram.com/p/BvCC7hanEzW/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=1ghw9t7eid2md

how’s that virgo-libra cusp treatin’ ya, Shen Qingqiu?

[image is a portrait drawing of Shen Qingqiu looking serene and collected. behind this are eight faded drawings of Shen Qingqiu in various states of comical disarray and disbelief, grimacing exaggeratedly, ripping at his hair, collapsed on the ground, and so on.]

we had a pep rally on friday to hype us up for testing! 🤪🤪 i got a bag with shampoo for straight hair and Old Spice body wash #peprally https://www.instagram.com/p/BwCXQM9Hfj2/?utm_source=ig_tumblr_share&igshid=13tc969h02qag

This is our stray, Matilda (my little sis named her). She’s so cute and I wish we could keep her, but our apartment doesn’t allow pets. 😥😥😥 #cats #kitty #cutie #meow

Okay, darlings. This fandom has managed to drive an author from it and they went out with a nuke. All of their work, gone. So it's time to have a talk. I'd love to think none of you were involved in it, so hopefully this is more a reminder to reblog than to have to apply, but it's time to have a talk.

First off, I'm not going to name the author. Their story is theirs. I'm just going to talk generally.

You DO NOT tell an author to kill themselves (kys) or threaten to harm them or that you'll find them or that they're writing their story wrong. YOU JUST DON'T.

"Well that's how I joke with my friends--" Stop. Authors are not your friends. They are at best acquaintances and more likely strangers. They might be friendly with you. I'm friendly with many of you because I see you often in comments/replies and such. And some of you have become friends. But the average author is not your friend, they are a stranger. And if you're the type of person who would tell a stranger to kill themselves, you need professional help in dealing with something deep inside you and I hope you find it.

Authors are out here writing entertainment and sharing it for free. You respect that and be kind. If you can't be kind, you leave. The back button is right there.

This is not an airport, you do not need to announce your departure. If a fic goes a way that you do not like, you unsubscribe and hit that back button. If it turns too angsty or sappy or violent, back button. If their characterization bothers you, back button. You do not need to tell as stranger providing free effort that you hate what they are producing. This fandom is so damn prolific, there's something out there for you, it doesn't have to be that fic.

Please just be kind. The world is horrible enough right now. And if you can't be kind, back button.

friend:who is your crush?

me: *opens mouth*

friend: real people not fictional

me:*closes mouth*

Red Robin walking slowly through a battlefield, eyes turn to the sky, unperturbed by the chaos and violence around him. He moves forward, step by step.

A piece of debris flies past his face and slashes his cheek. He doesn't flinch. All he can see is that image in the sky that is so beautiful, so captivating. All he can do is continue to walk towards something that he doesn't understand.

Tim begins to whisper softly, nonsensical-sounding words. They are swept away by the shouts and sounds of fighting. Sometime later, something begins to whisper back, echoing his words back to him. The wind is picking up, kicking up dust and ash and small bits of debris. It picks up speed, whistling past most inattentive heroes barring a few who look up in confusion at the sudden change in pressure in the surrounding area. The wind seems to like Tim; it circles him, caresses his cheeks.

His friends and family, other heroes don't notice this odd behavior, too wrapped up in their own battles, until someone shouts out a warning as Tim is almost crushed by a collapsing alien ship. He doesn't flinch as it explodes, his cape billowing out to the side and his hair ruffling in the rush of air that follows.

As the battle winds down some, people begin to notice as he makes his way towards... something. They see how his eyes are looking at a certain point above him, his neck craning as if to get a better look, so much so that he keeps stumbling. He seems to be mumbling under his breath, though none can quite make out what it is he's saying.

He doesn't respond to calls of his name, or cries for him to stop, to wait. He doesn't even notice.

Time slows and stops. The sounds of battle fade. The rustle of trees and chirps of birds and anything that had ever lived or ever will ceases.

Tim carries on.

if you’re a new tumblr user from tiktok or IG or something and only like posts and dont reblog them yeah people will think you’re a bot and block you but you will also make this website actively worse. they want “algorithmic” users like you, served recommended posts through likes, not people who just follow each other and respond to the direct chronological feed. there is a reason this website is still better than the rest, even with all its problems, do not ruin this