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dreamskug · 2 days

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[ SUBJECT INTERVIEW: ÍVARR ]

NICKNAME:

NOT "Gramps". Not for you, anyway. Just my name.

GENDER:

Male.

STAR SIGN:

Why, checking if we’d match? Hah. Was told I’m a Scorpio. 'That check out?

HEIGHT:

With platforms or without?

ORIENTATION:

If we vibe, nothing else matters. An incubus with neat taste in personalities, I guess.

NATIONALITY / ETHNICITY:

So, some Scandinavian blood in me - half, actually. Can speak the language, too - 'least something neat daddy gave me, not that the fucker's outdone himself in parenting. Mom’s an American, born in Badlands. Ever heard of her clan? Messed with witchcraft a lot, and summoning even more. Know what I’m getting at? A perfect fuckin' match, weren't they?

FAVE FRUIT:

- Yeah no. Don't even start with anything citrus. Especially don't peel this shit in front of me, alright? Nasty shit. [Interviewer]: - Just wondering, how do you feel about cardboard boxes? [Ívarr] : - Ain't purring for you, man. But nice one.

FAVE SEASON:

Fuck summer. You ever felt what's that like - the real winter nights? Pitch fuckin' dark - quiet so thick you hear the snow falling. First time I saw those snowflakes as a kid - can swear I thought they were bees.

FAVE FLOWER:

Cherry blossoms? The fuck I know, man. Ask my mainline, I grab whatever he likes.

FAVE SCENT:

Expecting me to be like - "Muahaha, the smell of fear"? Seriously, it's apparently a pheromone released in your sweat or some shit. C'mon I'm joking, it isn't my fav - keeps stinking up this damn city. Alright, a freshly baked cake is something I'd kill for.

COFFEE, TEA, HOT CHOCOLATE:

Yeah coffee I guess? Rich, strong, black, with a splash of something fun, make it whiskey.

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP:

Woke up just yesterday 'cause my mainline was pulling back my eyelid, imagine? Scared the fuck out of him, no seriously, can sleep through a fuckin' bomb and I'm not joking. Average hours - a shitton honestly? That's how I got my very first cat - Dad got enough of me breaking down every single morning, cause fuck mornings. And he'd be like - this is Snowy, she's gonna live with us and she already had her breakfast, so get the fuck up. How'd I argue with Snowy? You don't mess with Snowy.

DOG OR CAT PERSON:

See? Check it out - cat fur. Here too. I'm claimed, man - gave up cleaning it up a long time ago. Not to be dramatic, but if there's anything human in me left - it's for them. Fur kids, all mine, what can I say. Two of them adopted - and you bet each of them has a bigger personality than an average gonk.

DREAM TRIP:

Dream trip, jeez... Somewhere not fucking hot?

FAVE FICTIONAL CHARACTER:

Balrog has style, y'know? Gotta be honest, I feel for the dude. Imagine yourself sleeping deep within the mountains for thousands of years to get awoken by a bunch of motherfuckers? I'd go nuclear too. And this one too, ehh you know GoT? The Targaryen, her, yeah. Burn them all, girl. Boss move.

NUMBER OF BLANKETS YOU SLEEP WITH:

Man, your questions. I dunno, a half? With my ass covered, or not at all. Bed king sized, lights out, make it pitch black with the window open and you got me passed out.

RANDOM FACT:

One doesn't have to actually summon a demon to get them to come play, d'you know? There's one watching you through my eyes right fuckin' now. Should I introduce him?

Late to the party, but I remember many of y'all have more than one OC or just created new pixel babies that haven't participated yet, so I'm tagging (with no pressure):

@therealnightcity @wraithsoutlaws @sammysilverdyne @theviridianbunny @th3irin

@a-pirate @chessalein @halkuonn @luvwich @shimmer-like-agirl

@kdval @cybersteal @cyberholic77 @chevvy-yates @morganlefaye79

@anxious--ace @mhbcaps @wormskul @silver-samurai @androgymess

@winkyblinkyandstew @astarionhistears @valsilverhand @drunkchasind @themermaidriot

@pinkyjulien @skelior @medtech-mara @lokiina @timaeusterrored

@tokyofuturnoir @aggravateddurian @sifofasgard @elfjpeg @aurorartz

@lucky38-2077 @dustymagpie @gloryride @stannussy and anyone else who wants to! Also pls DM me if you don't wanna get tagged🖤

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dudeitiskarev · 3 hours

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Maybe Someday | Ch. 1

A Spencer Reid mini series

Chapter summary: After seventeen years, you show up in Spencer’s life. Or rather, he comes and find you.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x female reader

Rating: M

Tags/warnings: 4x7 spoilers; mentions of suicide; reader is a sex worker.

Word count: 1.7k

Author’s note: my beloved secret Spencer series is coming to light 🥹 she’s been mine for two years and I decided it was time to wrap it up and share it. This is the first chapter of 13 (+ and epilogue) and chapters are around 800 words to 3k so it should be an easy read! I hope you like this first part and I’d love to know what you think! Mwahhh

SERIES MASTERLIST | MAIN MASTERLIST

When a case unlocked memories in Spencer’s gifted brain, he expected everything to go as he suspected: so wrong.

It didn't quite go wrong. He got the answers he needed, but not the ones he truly wanted. He was wrong about everything, something he wasn’t used to.

The good thing was that his father wasn’t a murderer after all, and at least it was over.

Or almost over.

Thirteen minutes until midnight and the only reason Derek and Rossi agreed to drive Spencer to the darkest alley in Las Vegas was Garcia’s fault.

"Are you sure about this, Reid?” Morgan asked, turning on the SUV blinkers and glancing at Spencer through the rearview mirror.

“I really wish you’d stop asking me that.” Spencer unbuckled his seatbelt, ready to step out of the car.

Derek sounded like a broken record by now.

“Look, kid, we’re just trynna’ help.” He softened his voice. “Case is over. You can let it go now.”

The Riley Jenkins case was, in fact, over. Although letting it go was the last thing Spencer could do when last-minute Garcia filled him in about a person that wasn’t really involved in the case, but was connected to it to some extent: you.

“We don’t even know if she’s gonna be here,” Morgan continued. “She could be dead by now.”

“Yeah, and being here is the only way I could find out.”

Rossi had never seen Spencer like this, so he had to ask, “What’s with the sudden interest?"

"I don't know." Spencer lowered his tone.

All he knew was that there were more memories he needed to unlock, even if they led to something he would’ve been better off without knowing.

“Alright.” Derek raised his perfect brows in defeat. “We'll stay here. Call us if you need anything."

“And make it quick,” Rossi added. “Or else we’ll miss our flight.

"I will.” Spencer stepped out of the car, looked both ways, and jogged his way to the other side of the street—determined to find you.

According to Penelope’s recent discovery, you were related to the molester—Gary Michaels—and that fact was enough reason for Spencer to extend his stay for a few more hours. He just needed to know if you were okay. Alive.

“Look at that, neighbor,” Garcia had teased him during the phone call that morning. “She used to live five houses away from you.”

Images of a girl came to him as soon as Penelope said your name. You used to wear red shoes to school and… that’s all he knew. All he remembered.

He tried to dig up some more memories while his long steps took him to the street where he somehow knew he’d find you.

And he was right.

There you were, standing alone in a corner, pulling your jacket and purse close to your body. It was chilly, and your clothes barely covered any skin. You looked exactly how he thought you'd look after all these years—17 to be exact.

Same features, just… more grown.

Every word he knew flew away with the soft breeze of the night. You were alive, and he smiled to himself at the thought of you being more than a forgotten memory now.

He brushed his hair out of his forehead and hesitated whether to walk up to you and ask you how you’ve been or if he simply should be satisfied with knowing you were still skin and bones and let it all go.

He paced back and forth for a whole minute, thinking about the pros and cons of a still hypothetical conversation with you.

"It's $300 an hour, pretty boy." Your sweet voice blared around the empty street.

Spencer looked around to see who you were talking to. There was no one else.

It was so foreign to hear someone other than Morgan calling him a pretty boy. More so when you didn’t even turn around to actually think he was a pretty boy or not.

He slowly made it closer to you with both hands inside his pockets. "Uh, I don't—” Spencer cleared his voice once he was a few steps away. “I'm not looking for—"

"Then leave me alone.” You were quick to cut him off. “I'm working."

Oh.

He reached for his badge and flipped it open even when you hadn’t bothered to turn around. “I’m with the FBI, is it okay if I ask you a few questions?”

Your body froze for a moment but didn’t turn to give him a single glance.

“Look, I already talked to the cops. If this is about Trent and his stupid–”

“It’s about your uncle. Gary Michaels.” Spencer cut you off with the softest voice.

Your body stiffened, and after a moment, you finally turned to him, giving him your full attention. "What about him?"

Spencer gulped at the way you reacted—at the clearer sight of your face, too. Furrowed brows, clenched jaw, incredibly pretty, and the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen—he was sure his heart skipped a beat.

He swallowed thickly again before asking while wringing his hands. “How close were you two?”

“We weren’t. Why?”

“They found the remains of his body.”

Your only response was an audible breath that slipped through the twitch of a smile.

It was relief.

“Thanks for letting me know.” You nodded politely.

That smile seemed to be the end of the conversation but he didn’t want it to be over yet. “I heard about your brother, too,” he then blurted out.

You scoffed as if he’d told you the funniest joke. “Is that what you’re bringing up to keep the conversation going? My dead brother?”

Another brave step brought him face-to-face with you. “I heard that they found some letters from him.”

“Sorry?” You raised your brows as your eyes widened.

“Letters. Handwritten letters. They’re sti–”

“I don’t wanna know, alright?” You cut him off, lifting your palm and signaling him to stop talking. “I don’t need that. He made his decision years ago and I… I don’t need that.”

He said your name to get your attention once more, but every time he opened his mouth, he got closer and closer to setting off a grenade.

“What is this? Some interrogation?” You raised your tone. “Who even are you?”

"I'm Spencer Reid.”

Your features softened as soon as he said his name—like he’d pinned back in the grenade—enough reason for him just to keep talking.

“I’m pretty sure we were neighbors when we were kids,” he added.

You arranged your features to your already usual frown and stared as you said, “I remember you.”

You did?

“What do you want from me, Spencer?" You then added.

What did Spencer want? There wasn’t anything else to solve.

"How have you been?" He merely asked.

You forced a smile and looked away for a second. “Better now that I know Gary’s dead.” Then you turned to him again and stared again, this time with curious eyes. “How did he die? Exactly?” You tilted your head.

“He was beaten to death.” He raised his brows.

“Was that… recent?”

“No, it happened years ago.” He gulped for the eighth time before adding, “Let me ask you this, did he ever do anything to you? Or your brother?”

“I don’t see how that matters now.” You looked down.

“He’s dead, but he’s still under investigation. So we’re still gathering information about him.”

You hummed, shaking your head. “He barely even talked to me, thank god. He only liked boys. He really, really liked my brother.”

“I see.” Spencer narrowed his eyes.

Silence filled the space between you and him. It seemed as if memories were flashing right before your eyes.

“We lived with our grandma,” you began. “And when she heard about how his son was a child molester, she, uh, she killed herself. She couldn’t bear being responsible for such things,” You said, looking into the void.

And then you lost your brother in the same way.

Spencer’s chest tightened.

"What happened after?” He asked.

“No one wanted to look after us. We were troubled kids, so we ended up in an orphanage. Curtis was two years younger than me. He hung himself before turning sixteen. He’d been depressed since we were kids and I guess he couldn’t do it anymore. And I couldn’t keep living in the same place my brother died so one night I… just ran away.”

Spencer assumed you’ve been on your own ever since, and the tough shell you put out into the world was there to protect the little girl with red shoes.

“That’s all the information I have. I don’t know what else you need to know but you won’t find it with me.” You sighed. “So if you’re done, please leave. You’re scaring away my customers.”

A car passed slowly in front of you. By the look on the man’s face, he needed the service you provided and Spencer would stay next to you all night if it meant you’d be safe from those kinds of men.

There was something about you being all alone that didn’t feel right.

“I can help you get out,” he said.

You laughed. You really laughed then. You had a cute, contagious laugh. Spencer’s lips tugged at the corners into a small smile.

“You’re cute.” You wiped a fake tear off the corner of your eye. “I don’t know what makes you think I want to get out.”

“I can see it in your eyes.”

“Oh, really?” You stood right in front of him with a challenging stance. “What do you see in my eyes?”

Everything about you was intimidating—from your eyes to your voice, even the way you blinked—and yet he wasn’t phased by it, or he didn’t let it show, at least.

“That you don’t wanna be here. That your family failed you. And if you were given the chance, you’d leave this place.”

“My eyes tend to lie a lot.” You raised your brows, scanning his face up and down. “I’m a good liar.”

“I’m sure you are, but they’re not lying to me.”

You scoffed, breaking the staring contest. “Look, I appreciate whatever you’re trying to do here but it’s not working. Just leave me the hell alone, alright?”

He couldn’t fight you anymore, but that didn’t mean he was going to give up easily.

“Call me if you need anything, okay?” He reached for his wallet and took out a presentation card, handing it to you. “Anything at all.”

You stared at it for a moment before accepting it. He gave you a tight-lipped smile and took a few steps backward, waving goodbye.

Something about the way your hand shook when you took the card told him he had to miss the flight and stay for another night.

I hope you liked this first chapter! I’d love to know what you think! Comments and feedback are much appreciated 😊

Next chapter one-sentence teaser👀:

(…)

“Spencer?” Your soft sob woke up all of his senses. “I’m a good liar and I lied earlier. I do need… to get out.”

(…)

I’m planning on posting 2 to 3 chapters a week depending on the engagement it gets 🥰

#Spencer Reid #spencer reid x reader #Spencer Reid x female reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid self insert #Spencer Reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x fanfiction

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thecoffeelorian · 17 hours

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Hold My Hand (Crosshair x Reader)

Premise: This is the third installment of...what should have been a one-shot, but here we all are a long while later, so it's probably best to just keep on going down this road to see where it leads. Anyway, Part One was Understanding and Part Two was Red Flags, so if you haven't checked those out yet, feel free to do so now.

Story Notes: One small thing about the tagging system, if I didn't say it already: I hope to make a few more updates for this series, so just in case I am, in fact, keeping the folks who want to read and reblog in the loop, please don't hesitate to do so when you are able. If I'm not...you're welcome to ignore this from here on in, and I'll eventually stop tagging you altogether. Thank you, goodnight, and good luck.

Special Notes: As ever, the header was made by @stars-n-spice. Also, little shout-out to @talesfrommedinastation for inspiring me to use a form of sign language between two characters, one that was originally invented for speaking in deep space when the commlinks didn't work, and also mostly inspired by something similar in "The Expanse".

No-Pressure Tags:

@momojedi @moonstrider9904 @calicos-clones @bigboypantstime @youreababboon

@tink1221 @ms-grassi @galaxyglittering @ah-prick24 @littlefeatherr

@donntmindmejustwandering @housepartyfortwo @beatthisbi @urmomsmattress @mysticalgalaxysalad

@groguandthebadbatch @pendustt @weirdest-lights @flyiingsly @courtney0-0

@emmaflame1336 @briefexpertdeer @shadow-rebel-223 @littlemammoth69 @theosb0rnway

@shazkenobi @reader6898 @maxims-multifandom-corner @monster20045 @darkangel4121

@nevadastarrsworld @thatacefr @crosshair-lover @bennieandthejets-5 @jamine-boi-124

@lani03sstuff @ttzamara @beezez-blog @myeternalsin @sublimeclodkidcolor

@nish-xiii @ash04w3 @clonereeses @lllllmm @melymigo and anybody else looking for a tale that doesn't end in disaster.

🩶 It's my fault.

🩶 This one simple sentence, this confession, jolts through both you and Omega like a blaster bolt. It's more than enough to make the tears start forming in her eyes, and the questions to build up in yours.

🩶 He doesn't seem to be done talking yet, though, because what spills out of him next speaks volumes.

🩶 "I thought they would--protect us, but they lied. They've been lying this whole time."

🩶 By this point, his hand is shaking so much that you don't think about it, that you don't dare to ask any more questions for fear of making an already painful thing several times worse.

🩶 Rather, you're just moving in to take a gentle hold upon it, if only to offer him whatever comfort that you can.

🩶 To your own comfort, though, he doesn't flinch, pull away, or start telling you off in front of Omega even though you would understand perfectly if he did.

🩶 Instead, whatever's causing all of his ills today eases just a little at the moment of contact with you, because the next thing you both know, his panicked breathing is slowing down and his tense posture starts to loosen up.

🩶 This moment can't last very long, though, because as Omega quietly reminds you, she still has to call home and she thought she heard voices calling in the distance. There is literally no time to lose.

🩶 In turn, you don't mind bringing both of your guests to the old spaceport that used to be your family's business during the war, but since then has had to be converted to a ship repair shop like several more wartime industries have done on your planet. However, there are still a few things you can use here, because you haven't exactly let everything go to rust.

🩶 One of these things is the communication console, a somewhat rusted thing, but still able to access encrypted links like the one on board the Marauder. It's here that Omega hears the voices of her surviving brothers for the first time in what feels like forever, and like any other missing child would do, she's able to let a few relieved sobs out of her system.

🩶 She's also composed herself enough to plan her next few steps, for her next move is to go straight to one of Ryloth's moons for a pick-up...or so she tells the two men on the other end of this line.

🩶 You can only hope that this means she wants to surprise them, guaranteeing two returns of lost family members for the price of one flight, as the old sale slogan goes.

🩶 At this same time, though, Crosshair's got a surprise of his own, for as Omega's busy talking, he's busy signaling to you without saying a word. It's the old spacewalk sign language, the one developed by the first workers within the asteroid belt for when their comms stopped working...and right now, he's telling you that he won't be following Omega down the ramp when the time comes.

🩶 How come, you sign back, a look of confusion upon your face. Don't you want to go with her?

🩶 They'll be looking for two clones traveling together, not separately...and besides, I already know I won't be welcome there.

🩶 Oh...? And where do you plan to go, if not with her?

🩶 I'll improvise. Now...act natural.

🩶 Both of you fall awkwardly silent as Omega finishes her comm; then skips back to you with the most heartbreaking of hopeful grins.

🩶 "They're coming to pick us up," she announces, twirling around in place like a happy little service droid. "We get to go home, home, home!"

🩶 "That's--that's great, Omega," Crosshair manages, forcing out the words as though trying not to choke on them. "Just--don't forget not to leave anything behind, all right?"

🩶 That's your cue to signal to them to go back to the house with you--you definitely have to hide the extra used dishes and utensils until further notice, what decent person wouldn't--but before you do, you're careful to make sure that the shop sign stays upon the word "Closed". The last thing anybody needs right now is some pushy customer demanding service.

🩶 Once you take all of the necessary precautions, though...you have to take just one more look around this little home of yours, if only to reassure yourself that you'll return to it soon, if not eventually.

🩶 After all, just like your mother used to say, the galaxy can be a huge, scary place.

#star wars #the bad batch #tbb #tbb crosshair #the bad batch crosshair #clone trooper crosshair #crosshair tbb #crosshair bad batch #crosshair x reader #tbb omega #omega tbb #omega bad batch #tbb crosshair and omega #tbb crosshair x you

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bbyboytommy · 7 hours

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Here's a little ficlet I thought of while rewatching the interaction at the helicopter hanger. This is an established Buddie!

Eddie sighs as he drops his keys in the dish by the door and kicks off his boots. "Buck? Where are you?"

There's no answer, but he can hear movement in the bedroom, so he heads there. Chris was spending the night at a friend's house, so the movement had to be Buck.

When he reaches the doorframe he sees Buck, lying facing the wall and curled in on himself a bit. Eddie frowns as he knocks on the doorframe to announce his presence, but Buck doesn't even budge.

He can tell by his breathing that the other man isn't asleep, so he makes his way over to the bed, sitting carefully on the edge near Buck's knees. "Come on Buck, please talk to me."

He sighs when there's still no response. From this angle he can see Buck staring blankly at the wall with a frown in place.

"Buck, remember what we talked about with communication? Neither of us can fix anything if we don't talk about what's bothering us."

Eddie feels a little relief course through him when this gets the other man to sit up and face him, but it's short lived since Buck's face is still obviously distressed.

"Are you gonna leave the 118?"

The question hits Eddie like a truck. He'd known Buck was upset with him, but he wasn't expecting anything like this.

He leans forward, carefully putting a hand on Buck's thigh. The relief he feels when he doesn't flinch at all is quickly drowned out by concern about what was going through Buck's head this whole time.

"Dios, baby no. Why would you think that?"

Buck looks down at his hands in his lap as he starts speaking quickly. "Just- You've been spending so much time with Tommy, and I know you were in and out of helicopters a lot in the Army- I guess I just though you might miss it and want to transfer over there."

Eddie sighs, moving to cradle his face in his hands, making Buck look at him. "I'm not going anywhere baby. I like hanging out with Tommy, but I love you and I love the 118. I wouldn't trade that for anything."

Buck bites his lip and looks down despite not being able to move his head. "Are you sure? I can deal with it if you do want to transfer. I don't like it, but you should be happy too."

Eddie frowns. "Buck, listen to me." He pauses until blue eyes meet his once again. "I am happy where I am, with you. I don't need anything else as long as I have you and Christopher, okay?"

Buck finally gives him a wobbly smile. "Well that's good, because all I need is you and Christopher too."

Eddie smiles widely and leans forward, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his lips. He presses their foreheads together, their breath ghosting across the other's lips. "I love you, Evan."

Buck finally smiles that big smile that Eddie fell in love with, and he returns it with a softer one. "I love you too, Edmundo."

( @librarianafterdark I hope you enjoy this! If anyone else would like to be tagged in 9-1-1 ficlets, just let me know <3)

#lennie writes #when he should be doing classwork lol #anyway hope yall enjoy this!#I really like writing it #911 abc #buddie #evan buckley #eddie diaz #tommy kinard #ficlet #my fic #fanfiction

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thisbuildinghasfeelings · 11 hours

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Still playing a bit of catch-up with fic recs this week, we're focusing on fic recs from season 3 episodes 7-12:

3x07 Red vs. Blue, 3x08 In the Unlikely Event of an Emergency, 3x09 The Bird, 3x10 Parental Guidance, 3x11 Prince Albert in a Can, 3x12 Negative Space.

Here are this week's prompts:

126 softball

Gwyn's death

TK's relationship with his mom

Owen and Gwyn

Owen and Catherine

Paul and Marjan as ride or die besties

Carlos and Grace teaming up

Sadie

Rules:

Every week there will be a different prompt, and everyone is encouraged to share a fic (or a few!) recommendation that meets the prompt and tag a few fic-reading friends. The game can be played all week, so no pressure to post right away. Please feel free to use the banner above, to make your own, or to not use one at all!

Finally, please use the tag ‘Rewatch Read-Along Week 18’ and at the end of the week @911lonestarrewatch will post the link to the tag for the comprehensive list of fic recs!

Thanks to @guardian-angle22 for the banner!

Here are my recs:

Ride or die by @tailoredshirt

In the aftermath of their fight and makeup in 3x09/3x10, Paul and Marjan get in a car accident and have more of a conversation about why Paul was so upset by what happened to him. A beautiful little exploration of Paul and Marjan's friendship.

kiss it better by @sznofthesticks

Nancy/Marjan in the aftermath of the softball game. We always need some more softball-adjacent porn without plot excellence!

"You love this, don't you?" by @irispurpurea

A little missing scene from the softball game. An incredibly accurate portrayal of how much Carlos must have enjoyed seeing TK during the game.

Sex Drive by @welcometololaland

We all know without a doubt what happened between TK and Carlos after they left the softball game 😏 But in this wonderful rendition, they don't even manage to make it home first!

(if this is) goodbye by @fallout-mars

A lovely and heartbreaking missing moment from 3x08. Carlos waits helplessly at the airport and leaves TK a voicemail as TK is in danger in the air.

Sweet Dreams and Flying Machines by @carlos-in-glasses

An absolutely gorgeous fic that artfully intertwines Carlos and TK's memories of 9/11 with the events of 3x08.

Let me just tell you, I really should go back to sleep by @ladytessa74

Yes, this is a 4x04 coda, but it's beautiful and I love it and it heavily features Gwyn and TK's grief at losing her, so it absolutely counts as an appropriate fic rec for this week!

i'll go on singing till i know you've heard by @maxbegone

TK runs into Genevieve, the woman he saved on the plane in 3x08, at the grocery store and the meeting provides a bit of a healing experience for him.

let our hearts beat here by @doublel27

A really beautiful fic where TK and Carlos get to have a little vacation in the aftermath of Gwyn's death and before things start getting even worse for them again. These two pretty much always need a vacation, so it always makes me so happy to read about them getting one.

Tagging some fic readers who might have recs to share:

@lemonlyman-dotcom @paperstorm @carlos-in-glasses @reyesstrand @strandnreyes

@vineofroses @bonheur-cafe @alrightbuckaroo @herefortarlos @im-overstimulated-and-im-sad

@heartstringsduet @liminalmemories21 @lightningboltreader @fangirl-paba @reyestrandd

@chicgeekgirl89 @firstprince-history-huh @noxsoulmate @ladytessa74 @sznofthesticks

@literateowl @nancygillianmvp @bonheur-cafe and OPEN TAG for anyone else who wants to share some fic recs!

#Rewatch Read-Along Week 18 #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #911 lone star rewatch 2024

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iz-rarepair-tournament · 1 day

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Rarepair Nominations are Now Open!

Alright everyone, it is time! I realize I'm posting this at what is likely an inopportune time, as it's the middle of the week and my posts aren't even showing up in tags yet, but that's okay! I just wanna go ahead and make this form available. I will leave this open until Sunday (May 5th) so get your choices in there.

Invader Zim Rarepair Nominations

Rules:

Do not nominate ZaDR (Zim/Dib), ZaGR (Zim/Gaz), ZaTR (Zim/Tak), ZaSR (Zim/Skoodge), DaTR (Dib/Tak), TaGR (Tak/Gaz), or RaPR (Red/Purple). These are all big ships in the fandom, whether we take into account past or present shipping trends, and so they are the ones I am disqualifying. Everything else, I will take.

What is considered a "rarepair" is totally at your discretion! It could be two characters who literally only showed up once, or it could be two major characters who nonetheless don't have near as many fanworks as one of the big ships I listed above. I will not be policing what ships are nominated. If it's not one of the above, I'll take it!

Only nominate pairings (two characters), no OT3s or more, please! Perhaps if this goes well we can do a special OT3 bracket later on.

When writing in a pairing, please actually write their names, for example Zim/Keef instead of just ZaKR. This is so I can know for sure exactly which pairing is getting nominated. If you just say ZaZR, I have no way of knowing if you mean Zim/Zim or Zim/Zita, as a random example. So just use the names, please.

You have to nominate at least one pairing, but you can send in up to five different pairs! One pairing per line.

Do not spam the form! I won't be requiring logins because I want people to have their anonymity, so I am requesting that you be reasonable, please. Only fill it out once, and if you happen to have more pairs you want to send, then I can't stop anyone from sending in a new form with those different pairings. But please don't use it as a way to duplicate ones you've already sent in. I intend to seed the bracket so I want the numbers to be accurate to what's actually being nominated.

No ships are off limits! If it's two Invader Zim characters who have appeared at some point in the show, movie, or comics, you can send it in! I understand this may mean some unpleasant or disturbing ships could be nominated and become part of the bracket. It comes with the territory. But Invader Zim is a dark show and the fandom has always embraced more twisted, grotesque themes. I will embrace it as well. So please do not send me requests that (insert badwrong pairing) be disqualified. If the presence of problematic ships in this bracket will bother you, please do not take part in the tournament.

You're more than welcome to start a good clean wholesome rarepair tournament of your own if you like :)

But yes, I think that's it! Go ahead and send in your nominations, and please share this far and wide. We can get wild but ultimately I want us to have fun here.

#invader zim #iz #shipping poll

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sunwarmed-ash · 2 days

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Heyoooo Happy Monday!

Did yall read last nights Sinful Sunday update? its here if you didn't get a chance yet!

I also got tagged by @lizzy0305 for WIP Wednesday Monday!

WIP MONDAY

Detroit Become Human, Hurt/Comfort, Sad Gavin Reed, HankCon established, previous Hankvin, eventual Hankconvin

My love language is misery: (Ch 3 preview)

It's silent in the car since Connor and Hank left the station to go check on Gavin. According to Detective Chen, the younger Detective had left work shortly after their ‘interaction’ outside the breakroom. Mentioning something about needing a change of clothes before walking out. Hank and Connor were quick to follow him out the doors and Connor’s earlier worry only compounded the longer they traveled. “To answer your question from earlier, about me and Gavin having a relationship. sorta.” “Sorta how?” Connor asks, needing to know everything to sort out a best course of action to help Gavin. Hank exhales through his nose and keeps his eyes forward out the windshield. “Before everything went to shit, and before me and Annie got together again. When we were both young and single, and fuckin’ everythin’ that moved… We hooked up, few times. But I thought- He never mentioned…” Hank huffs a little, struggling to find the right words, “I didn't think it was more than that… Always thought we were just playin’ but, what he said yesterday… haven't been able to get it out of my head since.” Connor analyzes Hank's increase in blood pressure and stress and places his hand on Hank’s knee in comfort. “What did he say?” Hank takes one hand off the steering wheel to squeeze it before returning his hand to its previous position on the wheel. “That I only want him when I can’t have him. Specifically, when I’m already with someone else. I don't know, I guess, now that I look back and think about it, I can see why he said it. I’ve never been very good at maintaining personal ‘relationships.’” “I don't know, I'd say this relationship is going quite well,” Connor smiles. It eases enough of the tension hanging in the car and Hank chuckles. “Yeah, I think that’s sorta the problem.” “He perceives me as a threat,” Connor interprets. “Big time.” “I see.” “We’ve always had a, complicated, relationship, Gav and I. But he's got some of his own additional demons on board. I think that might be what’s fucking him up now. Especially since uh, we aren't doing to much to hide our relationship at work.” “Yes, perhaps we have been playing a little ‘fast and loose’ with that line,” Connor agrees. “Mmm,” Hank agrees. A few moments of silence pass in the car and then Connor has to ask, “What happened to him?” Hank’s next exhale is obviously conflicted. “Can’t tell ya that, I’m afraid. Sorry Con. It's his business, nothing personal. I just wouldn't feel right.” “I understand,” Connor says, because he does. No unintended subtext. PTSD is something Connor is intimately familiar with now, and he wants to come across as non threatening as possible tonight. “Are there any general things I should be aware of? I don't want to unintentionally set off an attack.” “Just, follow my lead. And let him come to you. When he’s dissociating, he can’t always see what's going on in front of him.” More pieces slid into place for Connor with that confession. “Like this morning, in the breakroom.” “Yeah, exactly.” It’s quiet another moment and then Connor says, “He’s lucky to have someone like you Hank,” because he means it. Gavin doesn’t have a lot of friends at the DPD thanks to his almost 24/7 sour mood. And after today, he could probably use one. Hank scoffs a little disbelievingly at Connor’s praise but meets him in the middle with, “Yeah well, hopefully we can at least convince him to accept our help.”

@sweeteatercat @treeffles @disdaidal @tradedsymmetry @covenscribe @advictoriams @negative-citadel @writerwhowritesao3 and anyone else who wants to!! Have a great day everyone, I'm gonna try and get some sun today!

#wip monday #hankconvin #cop sandwich #hankvin800 #detroit become human #connor rk800 #gavin reed #hank anderson #find me on ao3 #sunwarmed ash #buy me a coffee?#links in pinned #reblogs are free ways to support me!#i post new stuff every sunday #sinful sunday #my love language is misery

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coarsely · 14 days

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The writeblr side of my dash is pretty inactive, so please interact with this post if you're an active writing blog! My main is over at @brw, so that's where follows will be coming from :)

#brieuc.txt #writeblr #writeblr community #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #Don't know what else to tag but here we are #Maybe I'll make another intro post? Unsure. Anyway I really want to be more active here!#It's just a little bit difficult without that interaction so I'm hoping to get a little bit more

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minorfamilysupremacy · 9 months

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new BTS footage from santhipong sillapachai on facebook

#apologies if i didn't grab them all bc i don't have fb access so i'm relying on what people linked #the sizes are probably jacked as well bc half of this was done on my phone #anyway lu this post is 4 u #4 u i did restrain from posting that 'that's my baby and i'm proud' gif #but they ARE my babies and i AM proud #i love them and miss them tremendously #bible wichapas #build jakapan #i could tag everyone else but let's face it #we know the content this blog is here for #biblebuild #vegaspete #kinnporsche

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threadbaresweater · 5 months

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Nanami Kento x reader(a poorly disguised self insert, if we are being honest here). Reader has long hair and can blush. Reader wears makeup. Kento can't sing but it's still romantic. Christmas-esque. Reader and Kento have children. The song is "The Way You Look Tonight" made famous by Frank Sinatra.

The aftermath of Christmas was something you'd grown increasingly efficient at managing over the years. It always left Kento with a warmth in his chest that made him feel richer than any numbers in his bank account, more radiant than any sunny day at a private resort, and more full than a shopping mall on Christmas Eve. From the moment your children bounced into the bedroom just before dawn until the minute he tucked them into bed and kissed them goodnight, the day was full of laughter, of song, of good food and friends and family and fellowship that Kento never thought he would be so lucky to experience.

Until he met you.

After putting the children to bed, he found you in the kitchen, stubbornly cleaning up the remainder of the mess from the evening’s festivities, humming along to the soft jazz you loved so much. Your hair tied in a messy, makeshift bun, stepping on the hem of your favorite lounge pants, the bags under your eyes betrayed the smile on your face. You were exhausted, though you would insist every year that you loved entertaining– you adored the house being full and lively and warm and bustling with activity.

He stood in the doorway and just watched you for a moment, arms crossed as he leaned upon the woodwork, lips quirked up into a gentle smile. You rinsed dishes, loading them one by one into the dishwasher, the strap of your camisole sliding down your shoulder over and over again. You puffed your hair out of your eyes and lifted it each time you bent down, and Kento finally let himself be known by chuckling quietly, stepping in to push the strap up himself and lay a gentle, lingering kiss upon your bare shoulder.

“Are the kids asleep already?” you asked quietly, turning to smile at him when he wrapped his arms around your waist. You reached for another dish, but Kento’s embrace tightened, and he shook his head, pulling you toward the middle of the kitchen.

“Kento?” Your question was a breath, a whisper; a quiet giggle while your cheeks turned a little red, despite having been married to him for the better part of ten years. He still set your heart fluttering when he gave you that look, the one that made you feel like the most beautiful woman in the world, despite your ill-fitting pajamas and her smudged eyeliner.

He held your hand between your two bodies, his other arm circling your waist, and began to sing along with the song that played from the speaker on the kitchen counter. Kento wasn’t a singer by any stretch of the imagination, but his off-key crooning in your ear made you giddy as the day you were married.

His bangs tickled your cheek and he pressed his lips to your temple, still singing along to the music.

“Lovely, don't you ever change...keep that breathless charm. Won't you please arrange it? 'Cause I love you...just the way you look tonight.”

“I’m a mess.” You whispered, and he squeezed your hand, a quiet protest.

“Nonsense. You’re a wonder.”

“If I’m a wonder, you’re a miracle.”

He sighed and swung his eyes to the ceiling before kissing your forehead. “Just let me have my moment.”

Your grin was wide, and you laid your cheek against his chest, humming, content, too tired to protest.

#nanami kento fanfic #don't know what else to tag this since it's not explicitly xreader but here we are

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dollypopup · 24 days

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y'all can all cancel me (again) for this, but if there's even a SHRED of 'who should I pick?' from Penelope in season 3, I am tuning out SO fast because like. . .sorry not sorry, there IS no choice. Debling is some crusty OC suitor she barely even knows and Colin is a man who she has been so supposedly in love with to the point where she'd ruin her entire family's reputation to have a potential love story with him. Penelope and Colin have background, years of knowing each other, intimacy that few people in the Ton can boast of having (letters, conversations about purpose, fights and arguments and makeups) and her and Debling have. . .a dance or two at a ball because he's a rebound for Penelope's broken heart. he means nothing. he has no nuance, he has no weight to the story, he is such an afterthought to me. either I wanna see Penelope going 'you know what? I don't even LIKE this dude. he's. . .fine, but I don't care about him even a shred as much as I care about Colin' or the INSTANT Colin's like 'you know what? we should get married' if it's not an immediate 'say less, you're already my husband, try returning me without the receipt, Debling whomst?' then I don't want it!

like. . .it's just so frustrating to see all the 'I hope Debling sweeps her off her feet and she rejects Colin's proposal and she makes him work for it and and and-' nonsense from the fandom and it's always tagged and no matter how many times I block it, it just keeps popping up. I go into the Polin tag for POLIN. I don't give a SHIT about a male love interest other than Colin. Not one. Not a shred. Not an iota.

and also. . .Debling has the 'benefit' of not having depth, or character traits, or HISTORY, so peeps can project onto him however they want, but I'm calling it now, there is NOTHING he could do or be that would make me like him more than Colin. Colin will always hit different, and I will always love him more. and if Pen's not on that same page? lol bye

you want me to believe Penelope and Colin are soulmates and it's romance for her to hem and haw about how difficult a decision it is for her to marry a stranger who knows barely anything about her. . .

when Marina was out here dropping banger lines like 'You were the only man with which I could see myself being happy' and 'I do not care about any of these men, where is Colin?'? like hello??? and she wasn't even fully in love with him!!!! but we'll demonize her until the cows come home in our fandom and make her the villain in Polin's love story for DARING to get in between Polin, yet Debling, a white man, is a darling dear perfect prince for getting in between Polin? existing in our fandom solely so Penelope can be like 'lol, Colin ain't shit, let me entertain any and everyone else'?

if that's the direction it goes then, ten toes down and on my mama, she doesn't deserve Colin and she can move because I'm on my way to court him my damn self

and that's that on that

#you know what? lol it's been a bit since i've posted a controversial opinion #tagging it #polin #sorry not sorry i ship polin. . .so i wanna see. . .polin. . .and i'm getting damn sick and tired #of all the bullshit pen/oc pen/other dude theories and stories in the polin tag #and i don't want polin to lose screentime over a frankly bleh male oc #you can't change my mind #if i don't see at least marina's 'you've seen him with the little bridgertons!' level of squee and 'i only want to talk to colin'#levels of devotion then i don't fucking WANT IT!!!!!#yeah definitely try out the marriage market #realize that NO ONE has a good time on the marriage market #try to get over him w/ whomstever #but then be like 'i don't even LIKE this dude where's colin i miss him' about it!!!!!#because otherwise i am not here #i am asleep #and i am courting colin in your place pen #i'm coming for your man #anti debling #if debling has 100 haters i am one of them if he has 10 haters i'm one of them if he has 1 hater i am the hater if he has 0 haters i'm dead #it's incredibly obvious that 'pebling' is half rooted in a revenge storyline fueled by anger at Colin and his complexity #and half a projection of wanting Penelope to have 'choices' because she is a representation and manifestation of the fans themselves #and so people think an OC that can be 'perfect' for them- whoops I mean Pen (because he doesn't have any real depth or interest)#he's a cardboard cutout we can throw whatever you want onto #so we can make him 'perfect' instead of the much more meaningful storyline of pen and colin both being messy and loving each other more #and part of it is bitterness over Polin not being insta-love #which. . .if it was i wouldn't like them as much as i do #anyways y'all ain't slick #and it's fucking WEIRD to be in a fandom that's like 'i ship this couple but i hope she gets with ANYONE else'#maybe you. . .don't ship the couple??#like. . .to the point of wanting her necklace to be from debling. . .and her wearing it everywhere??? WHAT??

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peninkwrites · 2 months

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(putting my very long, very personal ramble under a readmore so folks can avoid it) (this won't include any of my plans for going forward or for my writing but I'm not going anywhere so don't worry about that. love to you all.)

A little disclaimer: If you have zero context for what I'm talking about, apologies for not explaining in depth, but this post won't be relevant to you otherwise. All you really need to know is that it seems that Wilbur Soot is an abuser, and Shubble came forward and talked about it recently. He was not named, but from what she shared, I believe that was who she was talking about. I don't say this to speculate, and if you disagree, I'm not here to argue over it, but it's enough for me personally to not to want to support him indefinitely, save for Shubble explicitly saying she wasn't talking about him.

Additionally, these thoughts are some incredibly personal and self-centered rambling. It does not reflect where my priorities lie, with supporting Shelby for coming forward above all else, but other people have said that much better than I have, and this post is really just a place for me to vent some of my feelings.

I prided myself on not falling prey to “parasocial relationships.” I didn’t get invested in the personal lives of content creators, only in their creative works. I thought this protected me somehow. I knew next to nothing about Wilbur Soot’s personal life, but I admired him deeply as a writer and empathized with him as an artist. I projected so heavily onto his character and did so for over three years. When I waited for his final dsmp stream, I felt panicked. Like my survival hinged on how he ended this story, and then he ended it in a way I could live with, and I thought I could go on loving this story and these characters for what they had been, no matter how messy the rest of the endings to follow were. His character was mine in so many ways. He had some of my problems and I gave him some of my own. I used him to process quite a bit. And now that part of myself is irrevocably tainted.

When the stuff came out about Dream, I was upset, but not betrayed. I never followed the creator and he existed only as a character to me. All I grieved then was the community his actions destroyed and most importantly the people he hurt. I planned to continue writing for the DSMP, even as I refused to follow any content involving him. It felt like a pause, not a full stop, while I ensured what I was doing did not show him any support. I also gave that character no pity and therefore the man behind him no pity, I had no personal investment in his character.

Now my response is visceral and bitter and I don’t know how to go on writing, because this character meant the world to me. I don’t know how to write about a character I truly love and see myself in, knowing the person who also loved and saw himself in that character, who created that character, has done horrible things. I don’t know how to write any of these other characters I have loved and cared for for over 3 years because he has poisoned them. All of it turns my stomach now and I feel so betrayed. The thought of his character is tainted because it’s connected to his voice and his face. I cannot separate the art from the artist both because it was the inclusion of the authorship within the story which affected me so strongly, and because there are things within the text that I look back on now and can only see that this person was always this way. I couldn’t sleep last night. I kept thinking of c!Wilbur’s line when he found out about exile, “he didn’t actually hit you though“ and his horror when c!Tommy responded that he had, that for some reason that was the turning point. The implication that it was only crossing that line, that particular type of violence, which made something wrong. Fucking disgusting.

I’ve tried to find another story before now. For the last few years, honestly, I’ve looked for something to latch onto the way I have with this one, but nothing feels the way this did. I know I’ve been clinging to something gone or at least mostly gone, both the community and the story, but I haven’t known how to let go when nothing makes me feel the same way, even when the feeling has faded and changed so much with time. This was never supposed to go on this long. Honestly, the reason I started posting mcyt stuff to my sideblog instead of my main was because I assumed I would get over it in a few weeks, delete the posts, and move on. Three years. 40 works. Over a million words. Just. Fuck.

I loved these characters so much and I’ve wrapped up my writing in them for so long it’s hard to separate the two. At this point, it feels like these characters are what allow me to write, separate from the main story, but a place where I could work things out for myself as a person and try new things as a writer. And I’ve tried so hard to feel the same way about the QSMP, but maybe it’s because we’re out of lockdown so I don't have time to watch much, or I’ve just changed more than I’ve thought, but I haven't gotten attached the way I did even when I look at the stories being built there and can see the heart in them, the storytelling, the care, just as much as the DSMP if not more. There’s no good reason for it, it just hasn’t locked into place the way this story had, having been the perfect storm of circumstances. The DSMP came to me during one of the worst years of my life, and I have loved it so much I miss that time even with all the bad it carried too.

And now this thing I have been holding onto can only make me angry, hit me with grief and disgust. Fuck, the only plan I’ve had for an original novel in years is a loose adaptation of TDDD. My senior thesis was largely a novella about two siblings with a complicated relationship, the older fatalistic, the younger brave to the point of ignorance. So even that original project has poison in it now. All of it, all of my fucking work, all of my growth as a writer, all of my writing for over three fucking years has poison in it.

I’ve felt lost as a writer for a long time and the only thing keeping me anchored was these characters. And I don’t know how to cut them away from myself and I don’t know how to cut him away from what’s left when his writing, his character, undeniably gave me so much of a spark. When I’m happy, I write. When I’m sad, I write. There's so much bad in the world right now, but I could always fall back on writing. And now my main means of escape is the grief. Far more than ever before. I know this too shall pass and all that, and this hasn’t actually stolen my ability to write, but right now it all feels so ruined. I don’t know how long it will take for me to be able to look back on what I’ve made and not feel like this. I'd maybe moved on in some ways, but not all. There was so much left I wanted to do.

If you’ve somehow read this far, know that I love this community with my whole heart. I never quite made friends with any of you, even as I wanted to, and it's felt too late for a long time now. My beloved mutuals (and followers that are mutuals in all but name) I have found so much joy with you, in what all of you have created. I wish I could hold onto that above all else, even if I’m not quite sure how. I’m not going anywhere, to be clear. I won’t delete my blog and fall off the face of the earth or anything. I still love what all of you create and care about, even if things have changed and our interests don’t always align anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to detach this story from the creator, to love any of it the way I did or even love what I myself created again. I don’t really know why I’m writing this or if I’ll even post it except for the fact that you all are the only people who could understand.

Again, this was a deeply personal rant, not a statement about the situation as a whole, nor do I think this situation's impact on me takes an ounce of precedent over the person actually involved. The most important takeaway from this is what Shelby has shared, the importance of believing victims, to do what we can to protect ourselves from abuse that doesn’t seem obvious, and to look out for each other. Take care of yourselves, everyone.

#spilled penink #fuck i don't know what to tag this.#wilbur situation #abuse tw #ask to tag #I don't know about my current fics or what I plan to do going forward so don't read this looking for answers on that.#honestly i just had nowhere else to put this. this is something I would have ideally shared just with close friends #but they'd have no idea what I was talking about so here we are. desperate times.#sorry for the doom and gloom. i know there's been a lot of it as of late. please feel free to keep scrolling.#idc if people reblog. this is just. not the important thing right now yknow.#supporting shubble is all that really matters.

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