#<- whichever one of these is the ship name

[slimeyscotty]

hello !! you can call us slime or scotty, and we use he/slime/blood/star pronouns, whichever ones you want ^^. feel free to refer to us as singular or plural, as we interchange randomly all the time. tone tags are heavily appreciated !!

i'm bodily a chrono adult, and we're collectively gay. we have a partner system, but we are both poly and open to trying anything /g so feel free to send an ask and/or message ;p.

i'll primarily post or interact as a "singletsona" kind of thing, but some headmates may post as individuals and/or interact as said individuals, so feel free to interact you as please !! however, it is unlikely we will post any intros unless explicitely asked to.

we have no dni, however we're very openly radqueer, which heavily includes pro-endo and pro-ship stuff. i will block freely !!

list of a buncha info under the cut, as of rn it's a heavy wip since we don't have a bunch of collective stuff figured out ovo

info ;

likes : persona 3 - 5 . slimecicle . dsmp / qsmp . scu . homestuck . x-men . percy jackson . bg3 . genshin impact . hsr . criminal minds . supernatural . the titanic . omori . little nightmares . subnautica +

labels : t4t . proship4proship . polyam4polyam . rq4rq . gay . transmasc . bxyflux . polyamorous . fictosexual . xenogenders . radqueer . sootqueer . fictoconsang +

cisids : cisadhd . cisasd . ciscdd . ciscptsd . cisbackpain . cisscoliosis . cisscarred . cispolyamorous . cishypersexual . cisharmed +

transids : transslime . translisp . transparasocial . transyandere . transstalker . transolder . transslothsin . transkorean . transgreeneyes . transmultiplevoice . transpersonauser . transchangelingchild . transpolyconscious . transseadweller . transgills . transvioletblood . transhorns . transcuspid . transdemigod . transbloodbag . transmouthscars . transstarpupils . perma2020 . permanosebleed . permatired . permacringe . permaclean . permamanipulator . forcednormal . sterilescentian . nullperiod . lovebeing . starbeing +

trisids : trisschizophrenic . trisdelusional . trisharmful . trisstutter . trisblackhair +

paras : i have a bunch, but i don't wanna list that out for anyone unless we're close :3

f/os : posted !!

tags ;

# ooey gooey reblogs ⋆⁺₊ -> reblogs

# slimey [name] ⋆⁺₊ -> headmate posting

# lost in the [media] ooze ⋆⁺₊ -> specific media

# sticking onto our gunkers ⋆⁺₊ -> partner posting

# melting and oozing ⋆⁺₊ -> IDs

# goopy gunky boxes ⋆⁺₊ -> userboxes

graphics ;

[deep-space-halloween-zine]

Deep Space Halloween Zine Information

Hi there, welcome to the Deep Space Halloween Zine information zone, where I try to give all the pertinent information about the zine in one handy post.

Submission Rules

Fandom

This is a Deep Space Nine zine, so please make sure your submissions focus on Deep Space Nine and its characters. However, characters from other trek shows are welcome as "guest stars" in your works.

Theme

This zine will be (very loosely) Halloween themed! The works can be about halloween itself, or they can be spooky, or even just fall themed. This is a very, very loose theme.

Format and Cost

This zine will be released digitally and be completely free!

A version formatted for printing will be available if you so choose to print and assemble the zine yourself!

Acceptable Mediums

Fanfiction (up to 5000 words)

Fan art

Comics

Photo Manips/Collages

Poetry/Original Song Lyrics

(Photos of) sculptures, dioramas, cake art

Basically if it can be put on a piece of paper, it can be eligable!

Zine Cover

If you would like to submit a cover for this zine, please do!

If you submit a cover, it must include the name of the zine (Deep Space Halloween Zine) the issue number (Issue 1) and the year (2025). It should not include signatures or watermarks (credit will of course be listed inside the zine itself).

Covers can be your own art, or can be a photo manipulation.

In the case that multiple covers are submitted, all covers that don't make it to, well, the cover, will be featured as full pages at the end of the zine as "alternate covers," like collected editions of comics do!

Qualifications

You do not need to be an experienced artist/writer/cake decorator/whatever to contribute to this zine!

In fact, beginners are both welcome and encouraged to participate!

Rating

To keep this zine friendly for everyone, we will not be accepting explicit content.

Please keep your works to a rating of Teen+ or lower, or PG-13.

Since this is a halloween themed zine, blood and gore is allowed, as long as it fits a PG-13 rating (use your favourite search engine to find a list of PG-13 horror movies if you need a reference point).

Ships

You can feature ships in your work, or no ships at all if that's more your style.

Ships between minors and adults should be avoided.

AI Generated Work

AI generated work is strickly not allowed.

Don't do it. I will know. And I will find you.

Exclusivity

All works submitted must not have already been posted elsewhere.

All works submitted should remain unposted until the zine is released on Halloween, after which you are allowed to share your work on Tumblr/AO3/Wherever.

Deadlines

Submissions are due on 1 August 2025!

The zine will be released on 31 October 2025!

Submitting Works

Please email your submissions to spacedogfromspace@gmail.com.

If you submit to the zine, please make sure you check your email often. If you don't think you will remember to check, please include your tumblr or discord (whichever is the easier way to get ahold of you) in your initial email and make sure your account is set so I can message you on those platforms.

[nehezt]

taste

[betaboks]

The miserable story of her destruction

Vinspooky event day 2 - Werewolf/Lover

@germasholidaycalendar

Bonus illustration based directly on the pv art for the song . Wasn’t yuri enough though so it stays down here

[fawnnbinary]

warmups..... most functional throuple on the Grand Line

[thelampisaflashlight]

A tongue licks across chapped lips, wetting each stinging break in the tender flesh, mouth not quite ready to form the words it needs to say.

Lucky, then, he thinks he is, that the other speaks first.

“If I kissed you right now, would you pull away?”

A soft inhale, “Not even for air.”

A laugh.

“Then hold your breath.”

[mezzmerizd]

Ship names and duo names are so confusing to me in terms of differenciating tbh,, like boat boys & smalletho. I've seen both be used for both, and I think that's also what i've seen most ppl (on twt) are complaining about?

Like idk, whatever Etho and Joel got going on I'm watching it with popcorn in my hands 🤷‍♂️

[fllagellant]

Chamomile

Samara/Miranda, 1500 words, Gen rating

”Thank you for this. I don’t see why you would have wanted to do this, but-“

“That is why.”

[spirit-fingers22]

THIS

I love soulmates but also this-

[otkuhotgirl]

─── 𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

# with trafalgar law.

the heir to a throne had taken a liking to you — and law takes it upon himself to mark you his.

⎰ & KINKTOBER, day eleven. smut (mdni!). hate!sex. choking. possessive!law. biting. marking. mentions of blood. shower!sex. dom!law. afab!reader. no y/n used.

WC: 2.3k.

one could mention beyond one dozen fear-stricken adjectives when it came to the surgeon of death. sadistic, ruthless, cruel. the one to rearrange your limbs, to tear your beating heart off your chest and sell to whoever paid more. strangers trembled at the mention; lower-ranks marines were advised to not engage. law was but a monstrous criminal to most, a force to be reckoned with. to his crewmates, he lost partial sharpness, for he was but cap — strict, strategical, cunning, with a preference for solitude more often than not ignored by said boisterous subordinates. to you, he was law. a passionate, yet cold, individual — as though white flame. wielder of neutral facade that hid a habit of collecting coins; an excitement over illustrated, super-hero stories. zelous glances; fleeting brushes of fingers. love explicit through palid eyes, the mirror to his soul with your name all but engraved on it.

a commonly chosen adjective, agreed regardless of those who spoke, was that trafalgar law was thoroughly unlucky. which had been shown a fair amount of times through his journey at sea, one of them right in that instance.

it was supposed to be a common, brief, re-stocking period. when considering the increasing bounty on his head, law being the one assigned to stay-at-ship, caring for it rather than venturing through the streets, was understandable — advisable, even. whenever the captain was in need of particulars, he’d write it down and entrust you with the task of buying it all for a fair price. bepo acted as both a companion and an escort, and said routine had been settled for such a prolonged period that neither of you had expected law to leave later on that day. as capable as he was, captains had first-mates for a reason, and as a result of his stubborn nature, law suffered a combined attack from the kingdom’s security force, which culminated in his capture altogether.

the promise of the marines’ arrival had the crew on edge, desperately seeking for a route to the palace’s dungeon, yet finding none. the solution, however, fell from the skies — or rather you had thrown yourself in its arms. a naive prince, wielder of a bleeding heart and with quite a haste to fall in love. it had taken neither effort nor time to sway him off his feet, a golden crown wrapped around your criminal-esque finger. the man had taken you for a sweet commoner, enlightened at the idea of meeting one who was not royal, and after proper wording you had him at your feet within the midday.

you were showered in jewelry; poems; promises. he demanded a song to be written in your honor and defended you to whoever dared meddle. by the end of the afternoon, you had managed to successfully convince him to escort you to the dungeons — oh, my brave knight! —, for you were ever-so-curious to see the terrible surgeon of death, chained and set to execution. the prince had no time to react — too busy bragging — when you knocked both him and the guard off, stealing the keys and freeing your lover within the second.

law was revolted at your recklessness, yet curious as to how you had managed to get an audience in the dungeon. regardless, the flame of rage dimmed down into an endless, dark pit of hatred when the pair of you managed to escape and run towards the polar tang ashore. as it seemed, you were far too successful in your seducing, for now the guards followed-in-suit, shouting at each other and informing that the surgeon of death kidnapped the prince’s bride. to make matters worse, a celebratory festival was arranged and thrown, exploding fireworks announcing the incoming marriage.

law grew quieter; deadlier. he sliced whichever guard dared to come in between the route of your escape, and once the tang, at last, submerged, he was in such a mood that no crewmate had enough courage to approach him, rather focusing on the urgent task of fleeing. you weren’t given the privilege of shying away from his wrath, for a room, followed-in-suit by a shambles, had you locked in his chambers the second thereafter.

he scanned your figure, face contorting in both disgust and non-contained possessiveness. you were adorned in gold from head-to-toe, courtesy of the prince. the silken dress you wore, expensive and brand new. law prided himself in the jumpsuits the others’ wore — chest embroidered with the symbol of his crew, a lingering reminder to the external that their loyalty laid with him. yet, with you — his lover —, said jumpsuit had him growing twice as territorial; twice as prideful. he used to smirk at the thought of lustful men and women alike, cowering at the sight of the symbol you proudly displayed, retreating in fear for they knew you were his. his to protect; to adore; to touch. not the bride of a prince so incompetent he could neither sway a sword nor differentiate west from east. not a queen, but a pirate — his pirate.

at last, however, law had grown envious. the submarine’s temperature was erratic, oftentimes freezing, yet prone to insufferable warmth, depending on the sea’s conditions. those jumpsuits, although unfashionable, unflattering, had a purpose — to guarantee the comfort and safety of his crew. you feigned indifference, but he never once missed your lingering glance at the outfits worn by the straw-hat’s crew during the alliance. you, too, wished for that, and the context of being a heart pirate did not allow it. there you stood, wearing a dress gifted by another man, shining with the jewelry of his family. it made law’s entire being flare with revolt, and as if that hadn’t been enough, the scent of that prince was smeared all over your skin, causing his own to itch. treacherous thoughts a haze of unwanted images, the sight of that man hugging your shoulders; hunched over you; breath fanning over your face.

perhaps that had been the price to pay for his request for discretion; for the desperate — and unnecessary — grip he had on his privacy. your skin was unmarked, untraced. he never dared bite, never thought useful to apply perfume. no wonder that royal blood believed you free for the taking. law would need to fix that.

if he were a decent man, he would have spared the time to appreciate your efforts; to thank you for going through such lengths to save his life. yet law had not an ounce of gratitude to spare, for he cared more for the claim of your life than for the maintenance of his own.

“did you have fun?” he inquired, drawing pleasure from your wariness, shrinking as though a cornered prey. law grimaced at his approach, bitter as the prince’s perfume invaded his nostrils. “was it enjoyable being pampered while i rotted in a cell?”

your eyes widened, lips parted in shock. “of course not! i was worried sick—”

“don’t interrupt me,” law snapped, struggling to control his breathing.

it was unusual for him to behave in such an angered state, logic thrown aside for the sake of raw emotion. he was not an untamed beast of uncontrollable impulses; he was the patient feline who sent his prey to the edge of despair before offering them the sweet reprieve of death. law was not some half-assed hound who pounded without appreciating what had been given; he was not the damned eustass kid. yet, perhaps the bastard had a point — not that law would ever admit that out loud.

law kicked the small trash can straight into your feet, his eyes boring into yours. “throw it away.”

your fingers wrapped themselves around the clasp of the necklace you wore, and he clicked his tongue in annoyance, gripping the cleavage of your dress. “this one first.”

you complied, scanning him through worried eyes. law drowned in the sight of silk slipping from your shoulders to the ground, fluid fabric wavering in its descent as though a cascate of liquid, pale fire. law hated it. once he was done with you, he’d set that dress aflame with not a care for the stench whatsoever. you hunched over to grab the silk and throw it in the trash as has been instructed, yet law placed a firm hand on the crown of your head when you began to rise to your feet, forcing your knees to meet the ground.

you looked at him through your eyelashes, and his cock all but throbbed at the sight. “law—”

“why are you still with those jewels on? i told you to take it off,” he interrupted, tethering his glance to your cleavage. the lingerie set had not been altered — lacy, beige — one he had gifted to you. your hand went to the bracelet at your wrist, concentrated eyes glued to the piece. “who told you to stop looking at me?”

you shivered, careful when returning your gaze up to his face. the golden band fell onto the can, the round, diamond encrusted earrings following-in-suit. your fingers struggled with the clasp of the necklace, and law grunted with delight at the sight, aroused by your frustration. the star pendant fell into your cleavage, and had it been gifted by him, law would have commanded you to retrieve it with your teeth. but there mere thought of you doing it so in that instance had him seething.

“hurry up,” he barked, revolted with his own thoughts. you were swift — borderline desperate — in the act, throwing it out with a willingness that had him grunting in approval. “on your feet.”

despite having emerged to your full height, you shrunk under the pressure of his gaze, hugging your frame with uncertainty. law wanted to caress your cheek and spread your arms; scold you for depriving him of the sight of your breasts and abdomen, while comforting you on his desire altogether. yet, the scent lingered as though the remnant of a pest on one’s skin. law refused to give in to the urges to ravage you; to touch you as your gleaming eyes begged him to. but you would not leave without a lesson learned.

law teleported the pair of you to the bathroom, pointing towards the shower. “turn it on and stand underneath it.”

a cascade of water was bestowed upon you, soaking the fabric of your lingerie until it left nothing to the imagination. two minutes were required for it to heat up, yet law had no mercy whatsoever, forcing you to withstand the freezing liquid as he stood steps further, stripping himself without haste. vapor swirled around the room, covering inches of your flesh. your trembling stopped, and though law approached with his body bare, cock slapped against his stomach, you remained with the lingerie, for he hadn’t — and wouldn’t — order you to remove it. that had been his gift to you, and law would fuck you numb in it.

his tattooed hand closed around your neck, not quite squeezing it, yet. your head was angled as in a way to have your eyes glued to his own. “where were you touched?”

“waist,” you mumbled, ashamed. “sometimes he hugged my shoulders, too, but he’d rather have his hand on my waist.”

his pupils dilated, tempers rising. you gasped at the strength of his grip, wasting your reserve of air in a single act. law felt the wild pulse of your pressure point, crescent pace beating against the palm of his hand. underneath bone and flesh and muscle, caged amidst ribs, rested a heart whose surface that prince hadn’t touched, for that inch of you was his. every breath you took, every contraction of your heart, belonged to him. those wide, lust-coated eyes were his, as were the hardened nipples, trembling legs and awaiting lips.

law smashed his mouth against yours, more an act of violence than a kiss itself. his teeth dug into flesh, drawing blood from your lower lip, allowing it to drip down your chin. law hummed to himself at the sight, before he pushed you against the wall, ignoring the echo of your head meeting the ceramic. his canines were dragged on your shoulders, nose buried in. he hummed half-approvingly, for the water had expelled the most prominent aspects of the insufferable perfume — not nearly enough. law bit on every inch of your shoulder, steel grip unmoving on your throat, with not a care for your lack of air in your lungs. if you fell unconscious, the shower and his cock would eventually bring you back.

crystalline water merged with specks of dripping blood, soothing tongue licking your fresh wounds. law pressed himself against you, rolling his hips in order to be granted an ounce of friction. your eyes were rolled, maimed waist bearing the marks of his fingers. the grip on your neck loosened, for you could neither moan nor beg without proper breathing.

the white of his smile was tainted crimson when he smirked at you, digging his nails into your waist. “were you enjoying his attention? the festival had beautiful fireworks, wouldn’t you agree?”

his taunts fell on deaf ears. your eyes were filled with tears that dared not fall, your voice rough. the golden collar wrapped around your throat had been replaced by the mark of his fingers.

“i don’t know,” you croaked out, hissing ever-so-slightly at the wound left on your lower lip. “i was staring at you the whole time.”

his anger faltered ever-so-slightly, cock twitching at the confession. for an instance, the bathroom was filled with nothing but the steady sound of the shower and your shallow breathing. until law pressed his mouth against yours with enough strength to have your head hitting the wall behind yet again, clashing teeth; tongue forcing itself inside. he swallowed your mewl, grunting as his shaft pressed itself against you; rutting hips, dragging the tip around the slick flesh.

“law, please,” you begged, choking on your words. sadistic bastard of considerable strength. he stole the air off your lungs, yet demanded you to speak. words but a meek plea, strained and pathetic. “fuck me, please.”

“who do you belong to?” he demanded, teasing your entrance with his leaking tip.

“you,” he dug his teeth into your shoulders, squeezing your neck. his eyes spoke when words failed him; narrowed slits demanding for more. “i’m yours, yours!”

he grunted, shoving his cock inside. law increased the pressure on your neck, muffled moans sending vibrations through your skin as he slid in — base to the tip; balls slapping your ass. his tip assaulted your g-spot, hardened nipples sliding onto his chest. the angle itself was odd; challenging. your back slipped, and your legs wrapped themselves around his waist, offering him a better angle and chance to support your weight. you let out a strangled, desperate moan when his tip forced itself deeper, a ruthless pace that gave neither of you enough time to form a coherent thought.

law retreated from your shoulder in order to catch a glimpse of your face. water had united some of your eyelashes; your lips were swollen where he bit it; your eyes were facing a losing battle against consciousness. he had never seen a prettier sight.

your legs trembled, muted sounds pointing out to the approach of your bliss. law threw his head back to witness it in its full glory, snapping his hips with particular strength, holding a moan at the sensation of your walls — tightening; caging him. when you came, spurs of white smeared the pool of water underneath, law picked up his pace, torturing your abused cunt as he selfishly seeked out his own bliss.

law was a doctor. he did not fall into the spectrum of irresponsible individuals who thought themselves acquitted to the effects of unprotected sex. he had a fair stash of condoms well-hidden and set for usage, and if he ever were to run out of it, either your stomach, tits or face were chosen to be smeared with his cum. however, after the previous demonstration of desire from another, law grew territorial. his cock was yet sheltered within your walls when he reached his high, smearing your insides with his essence and grunting in the process of it all — knowing that you were his; that it was your tight, demanding cunt who milked him dry. his hand raised from your throat to caress your cheeks with an affection at odds with his past behavior.

you were soaked; exhausted. with his load lodged inside, traces of his teeth on your maimed shoulder. you would be sore in the morning, and the collar of his fingers would linger for at least a week. not the bride of a prince — rather the treasure of a pirate.

— 🐈‍⬛ : i should NOT be allowed to write this man. happy kinktober friday!

[miriaocs]

GET TO KNOW YOUR TWST OCs (and their relationships)

(Or how I make up excuses to blabber about my OC lol. Most of the "who" questions are aimed at the twst cast, but feel free to include other twst OCs as well!)

Name: What does your twst OC's name mean? Why does Rook/Floyd call them [insert nickname]?

Inspiration: Is your twst OC inspired by any villains? Concepts? Anything Disney-related?

Age/Birthday: How old is your twst OC? When is their birthday? Whose birthday (among the cast) is closest to your twst OC's? Does the horoscope lie or do they get along well?

Dorm: Which dorm is your twst OC in? Why? Which qualities they have make them suitable for said dorm? Do they have a roommate and how is their relationship?

Class: Who is your twst OC's classmate(s)? How would you describe their relationship? Did they have different classmates in previous year and did they get along?

Height: How tall is your twst OC? Are they conscious about their height? Are they close to someone with similar leg length?

Hair/Eye color: What are your twst OC's hair and eye colors? Who got the closest/opposite palette to them?

Homeland: Where is your twst OC from? Do they know anyone from the same hometown prior to NRC?

Club: Which club does your twst OC join and why? Is there anything memorable about the club fair day/their first day at the club? Which clubmate is their favorite?

Subject: What is your twst OC's best subject? Worst? Do they study with another whom excels at the same subject? Do they ask anyone for help with the subject they are bad at?

Hobby: What are your twst OC's hobbies? Who among the cast will they possibly ask to join in their pastime?

Pet peeves: What are your twst OC's pet peeves and which one in the cast accidentally (or not) commit the "crimes"? How will your twst OC deal with that person?

Food: What is your twst OC's favorite and least favorite food? Why (optional)? Is there anyone they can share their favorite food? Is there anyone they can count on to take over the food they dislike?

Talent: What is your twst OC's talent(s) and who can properly appreciate that?

Unique Magic/Signature spell: What is your twst OC's UM (if applicable)? What can they do? What is the incantation? Is there any weaknesses/loopholes and who can exploit those?

Quote: Give me something your twst OC will say. Either something they always say or something iconic they said. Something that helps solve the problems or something that is a catalyst to even more issues.

(Ok I'm kinda running out of ideas here) Personality: Give me 3 adjectives to describe your twst OC. Or an essay. Whichever works. Whose personality among the cast is closest to your twst OC and do they get along?

Backstory: Tell me anything about your twst OC's backstory. Their childhood, their parents, their siblings etc. Does their backstory affect how they are as a character now and how they interact with the cast?

Pick only one: Let your twst OC pick only one and explain the reasons: only one favorite from each dorm, only one favorite housewarden/vice housewarden, only one favorite first/second/third year etc.

(For my beloved yume shippers) Partner: Who do you ship your twst OC with? Are they in a relationship? If yes, how did it start/end? If no, why?

[guessthatrec-poll]

Welcome to the Guess That Rec tournament!

Do you like enemies-to-lovers? Non-stereotypical queer rep? A cyberpunk setting with dragons in space about friendship, family, and the dangers of capitalism?

Well, this isn't any of those things! This is Guess That Rec, a tournament by the mod of @besttropeveershowdown where we'll be voting on media based entirely on bad, Booktok-style recommendations. Inspired by @guess-that-ship and this post, the rules of the tournament are simple: submit a recommendation for your favorite piece of media, and we'll vote on which ones we like best, BUT, here's the kicker: You may not mention anything about the actual plot of the story. Instead, we will be voting based on promo-post-style recommendations, which can include tropes, representation, setting, genre, very general theme, and anything else, as long as it doesn't describe anything that actually happens in the story!

Round 1 is currently out - check the #gtr polls tag to find it! Guesses are encouraged, but I'd prefer you post them in the replies rather than the tags so your followers don't see the guess before they read the recs.

Example:

Do you want a high school story about a neurodivergent protagonist working through their trauma by going on adventures in the big city? Queer-coded side characters? Male characters breaking through their toxic masculinity and expressing their feelings? Wholesome sibling relationships?

Then you'll love Catcher in the Rye!

The tournament will work similarly to the way @guess-that-ship does. Each rec will be assigned a number for the poll with the rec itself going in the body of the post, and each round, there will be a poll pitting 2 recs against each other. Vote for whichever piece of media sounds most appealing based on the rec alone. At the end of each round, I will reveal the identity of the loser. Guessing what work each rec is for in the comments is encouraged!

THE RULES:

Any type of media is permitted. Both fiction and nonfiction are allowed, but everything must be presented as if it's fiction.

You may NOT mention anything to do with the actual plot or premise of the story. You may, however, mention:

Tropes (ex. enemies-to-lovers, fake dating, unreliable narrator)

Representation (ex. disabled protagonist, gay side character)

Character dynamics and relationships (ex. dysfunctional siblings, grumpy x sunshine lesbians)

Setting (ex. in space, in the Old West)

Genre and subgenre (ex. historical fiction, whodunnit, workplace comedy)

Comparisons to other media (ex. if you liked Avengers you'll love this, it's Twilight meets Hunger Games)

General themes (ex. love, grief, family)

General elements (ex. murders, adventures, road trips)

Anything else that has NOTHING TO DO with what the story is actually about!

3. You may NOT make anything up: everything must be technically true, or at least up for interpretation. So, in my Catcher in the Rye example, I can't say that there are "canonically gay characters" because there aren't, but I CAN say that there are queer-coded characters. Similarly, if there's a character in your piece of media who exhibits autistic traits but has never been confirmed autistic, you can't call them "autistic", but you can call them "autistic-coded" or mention their specific traits. The use of weasel words (ex. describing a mentally ill serial killer stereotype as "neurodivergent", or a gay villain as a "major queer character") is allowed and encouraged.

4. Do not include any identifying details (ex. title, character names, identifying place names) in your rec.

5. Funnier submissions will be given higher priority. Submissions are funnier if A) they're of media that most people have heard of, and B) they are technically true while not at all capturing the vibe of the media.

5a. Additionally, remember that this is meant to be BAD recs: don't just use this as an excuse to recommend your favorite media! If a Booktok-style rec actually provides a good picture of what your media is, consider either rewriting or not submitting it.

6. Should the same media be submitted by two different people with different recs, priority will generally be given to the first submission, unless a later submission was significantly funnier by the guidelines stipulated in rule #5.

7. There is no banned media: go nuts!

Tagging @tournament-announcer!

[freyito]

i read the umm boothil vidaharyda (i dunno if im spellung that right) peice you did and and HOTBJF FNF ABABABJGHYTUFHFHR?!!!!!!!!!!!! that was AMAZING!! if you did a part two it would be like, really cool!! i love the way you write sm 🫰

✭ pairing(s): boothill x male vidyadhara reader

✧ a/n: im glad you enjoyed my writing anon... i apologizing for being several months late... ahaha... ANYWAYS! i think this is a nice break from blue veins two... just some good ol fluff :P... it's also been so long since i've written for male reader it feels like @_@

✦ taglist: @fffrost, @shinysora

🗒 cw: male reader, vidyadhara reader, itty bit of lore building (made the vidyadhara look a little more like the yan siblings from arknights), hey you guys are married now!, lots more fluff. cause i said so., he's a little clingy, not proofread

✎ wc: 1.9k

[i , ii]

ꜱᴄᴀʟᴇꜱ & ᴍᴇᴛᴀʟ ; ii

Well, where did the time go? Suddenly, you find yourself lounging on Boothill’s ship, face down on a couch, as his fingers scratch at your scalp. Your tail wags shamelessly in the air as he hums, some tune he had picked up in his youth. Needless to say, you are content beyond relief right now. It had been a couple years since Boothill had first asked you out, and now what you are left with is bi-monthly ‘vacations’, and a pretty little ring on your finger.

Safe n’ sound in the vast expanse of space, stuck with a Galaxy Ranger that had vowed to keep you safe, love you with every single part of his being, bolts and all. It’s something he echoes near every day, even when he is several star systems apart from you. A normal day at the Skyfaring Commission for you could be a wild chase for Boothill, running from bounty hunters, taunting them anyway he can. While you worried over him to the point of running yourself ragged, he had always found his way back to you.

He spoiled you rotten, with every breath he took, every step he tracked, you were pampered. He was much like a penguin, bringing you rocks from whichever planet he had visited. Not just rocks, but all sorts of trinkets. He’d bring you food if he could, because he’s just so in love with the way your face lights up when you taste something new. The way your tail wags furiously, while you speak so fast you run out of breath.

He’s found that he quite enjoys living through you. He can eat, sure, but he can’t taste it. So to watch you enjoy new cuisine with such enthusiasm (or even the same food you’ve been eating since you first could), it brings him an odd sense of peace. That being said, dinner dates are always on the schedule. It’s more of him watching you with a lovestruck look on his face while you eat.

Little dates like that have been quite common ever since he first asked you out. And before, of course. The only difference is they are more frequent. No matter how far he had been, across the star system or on planets unknown, he has always found a way to show up after your shift, or sweep you away to his ship.

All of this, of course, leads back to the current moment. Tucked away in your own little slice of heaven, reading some fantastical mythologically inclined story, while Boothill pets you as if you were a lap dog. He does his best to steer clear of your horns, though you know he won’t for long. Regardless, in his eyes, you are simply so cute like this, all docile and happy. The way your tail waves with every pet, or wags faster when he nears your horns.

“Darlin’...” He whispers, the pet name falling from his lips languidly.

You don’t look up from your book, but acknowledge him with a soft ‘hm?’ nonetheless. You haven’t found a spot to pause, too deep into the page, and the next page didn’t start with the start of a sentence. You’d lose your place too easily!

Boothill, however, wasn’t happy with such simple acknowledgement.

“Heyyy, darlin’...” He drawls in a sing-song tone, twirling a strand of hair around his finger. “Look at me, pretty please?”

“One more moment,” You mutter, unphased.

He isn’t happy with that answer either. He slides his hand under your chip, cupping your face and tilting your head up. Your eyes track your book as much as they can, before inevitably meeting Boothill’s. He gives you a crooked smile when you make eye contact, batting his eyelashes like he didn’t do anything.

“There you are…” He purrs, low and sultry, his other hand continuing to pet at your hair. “Listen, I was thinkin’ we go do somethin’ real fancy.”

“For what occasion?” You cock your head to the side. You did your best to swallow whatever annoyance you had, as much as you were into the book, there was no need to point it out. Boothill would’ve gotten his way one way or another.

“I dunno. ‘Cause I wanna,” He shrugs, “I’m thinkin’ of takin’ you somewhere, maybe The Capital of Passion, maybe New Bethelhem. Somewhere nice n’ romantic. I’d take you out for one of the classics; dinner and a show. See if there’s somewhere showing one of those cheesy romance movies you like so much, eh?”

As he speaks, he leans down a little, pulling you closer. In the end, you shuffled up with a blush, huffing softly and turning your head away from him. You know what he’s doing, lingering a little too long, his eyes following your every little move. He either seeks to fluster you still, with simply asking you out on a date, or he’s scheming. The second thing makes you shiver slightly.

“I haven’t seen somethin’ like that in a long time, y’know, it’d be nice to enjoy somethin’ all quiet and peaceful like. Doesn’t sound too bad, does it?”

“... What are you up to?”

“Nothin’ sugar! Ah, that’s hurtful, you know! Always thinkin’ im up to no good,” Boothill shakes his head with a mock-disappointed look. “Can’t a man share his ideas?”

You sigh, doing your best to calm down your own bashfulness, as he shuffles closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you in close. With a soft sigh, he closes his eyes. His smile drops for a second, and that leaves an odd ache in your gut. When have you not seen him smile? But that worry is quickly washed away when he opens his eye, that familiar sparkle twinkling in his eye.

“I just wanna treat you good, yeah? I dunno… I don’t think I’ve gotten the chance to take you somewhere nice…” His voice wavers. Meanwhile, you’re trying to wrap your head around it. He’s taken such good care of you, so where did this come from? “When was the last time we had a date where you could get all dolled up and we’d have a night out on the town, hm…?”

“Well…” You do your best to recall, but you can’t necessarily remember. Mainly because he’s taken you on so many dates, it all tends to get lost in the mix.

“Exactly! That’s why I’m thinkin’ I ought to start acting like a gentleman.”

That statement makes you tilt your head in confusion. A gentleman? He was already one, really. He just hadn’t lost his roguish charm. He treated you so well and kind, showered you with gifts, compliments, and praises, and here he was saying he should act like a gentleman?

“Boothill… what do you mean by that?”

“I wanna settle down. For you, ‘n all.”

“SETTLE DOWN!?” You can’t help but raise your voice in shock. Your tail starts flicking ferociously, trying to make sense of what he had said. It was clear enough, but for the Boothill to say he wants to settle down? Ah. He must be insane. Something must’ve gotten into one of his neurochips and infected his system. That must be it.

“Woah there cowboy–”

Before he gets the chance to explain his reasoning, you pounce on him. You press the back of your hand to his forehead to check if he was running hot (like he could get a fever…), then stare into his eye for a moment, before lifting his upper lip with your thumb, before forcing the man to open his mouth. Well, how were you supposed to check a cyborg for any symptoms of a virus? You didn’t know. But his mouth seemed normal, his gums seemed normal, all seemed well. He chuckles as you shuffle down and press your ear to his chest, to see if his fans were kicking into overdrive. There was no sound out of the ordinary, the subtle humming of his fans and system working as intended.

Slowly, his hands fall to your shoulders as he pushes you up off of him. He lays beneath you with a soft smile, while you stare down at him, tail swishing like a predator ready to pounce. You still can’t get over it, there’s no way he’d say such a thing. He was spontaneous, if he stayed in one place for more than two weeks, he’d get antsy! Not to mention, he was wanted. He couldn’t really stay in one place regardless, even in some place as heavily guarded as the Loufu. Besides, you were happy as is! Married, with a stunning boyfriend to boot, who loved you like no other… even the thought of settling down with him seemed outlandish.

“Is it really such an insane idea? Think about it sweetpea,” He shrugs, maintaining eye contact. “Nice little corner of the universe to call our own. I’d make a good, honest livin’, tendin’ a little farm and what not.”

You give him another perturbed look, one that borders on disgusted.

Nicer light? What a joke, you think. You’ve seen him when he’s as dashing as ever, running from bounty hunters who had tracked him down on one of your little moonlit evenings. The way he looks just stunning no matter what, whether it be when he’s delivering some of your favorite food to you, or when he’s dragged you to his favorite shooting spot. The way the sunlight had always hit him just perfectly, the way his smile shines oh so bright, the way those eyes charm you to even do the simplest of things when he’s ‘too tired’.

Before you can retort, his chuckle turns into a deep laugh, hands falling to your sides.

“You believed me, huh?” He laughs, doing his best to shuffle out of your ireful gaze. “Was I that convincin’?”

Ah. He was playing around. Good. Still, that doesn't stop you from scolding him. You reach up and pinch his cheeks, earning a groan from him as he tries to wrench free from your grip.

“Where did that come from!?” You pitch, making sure he stays beneath you. “That’s scary you know! Suddenly jumping to a conclusion like that! Especially when you’re wanted!”

“Hey now!” Boothill protests. But you shut him up quick, leaving his cheeks and landing a couple of playful punches to his chestplate. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere– or, I guess I should– stop that!”

Before you have time to react, he’s reached up and grabbed one of your horns, causing you to yelp at the way it made you feel. The cold steel against your wonderful horns sending a white hot jolt of shock and something else, the feeling akin to when you’d bump your funny bone into something.

“Waha!” You whine, falling dramatically limp in his arms.

“Awh, now, I didn’t mean to do that baby,” He coos sarcastically, before turning to run his hand once more through your hair. “It was a joke, is all… can’t blame a man for having fun, can you? I’ll make it up to you, I promise!”

When you look up at him, he’s pouting like you had truly scolded him for something so nonsensical, before it turns into a cheeky grin. One that said ‘I didn’t really do wrong…’. You’d fight back, speak your mind, but not when he’s so close to your weakness. With a huff, you stay in his arms, cheek pressed against his chest as he hums, idling running his fingers through your hair once more. What a scare he had given you, and now he gets to act all normal while you reap the consequences..

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[lawsofchaos1]

Malec Promptlet: Undercover!Circle Soulmate AU

Alec is the eldest son and the acknowledged heir of two prominent, highly-ranked Circle members that are openly known to have recanted Valentine’s ideology in name only. When Robert and Maryse begin leaving the Institute in Alec’s care when he’s fourteen it becomes clear that Alec isn’t relying on his bloodline alone and is going to be an immensely powerful member of the Clave in his own right. 

The Circle would be utterly foolish not to recruit the Shadowhunter who is absolutely certain to become the next Head of the New York Institute. Especially when it becomes evident that the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute would lay down their lives happily for their beloved young leader. Whichever way Alec turns in this war, so too will New York. 

By the time Alec is 22, he has gained complete control and his full investiture as Head. He is brutally competent, ruthless in the protection and training of his people, and, beyond all else, utterly without prejudice in his application of the Law.

The Circle, misreading Alec's motivation entirely, sees what they believe to be their way in. In truth, Alec despises applying the Law as it is written, hating how unequal it treats the Downworld. His rise up the ranks in the Clave's legal qualification system far surpasses the requirements of his position and sets the stage for him to have authority to assist in changing the laws themselves. The Circle believes it to be with the goal of further subjugating the Downworld, just as Maryse and Robert would have taught their eldest son and heir.

And so Alec, deep in the midst of researching the legal permissions that would be necessary to lawfully establish a Downworld Council, instead receives a recruitment offer from Valentine. Valentine, whom the entire Shadow World believes dead.

The resulting meeting with Caleb Sunshade, the Head of Alec's Intelligence Department, results in a streak of oaths that leave Alec with his brows raised, impressed despite himself at Caleb's creativity.

Caleb, and all Caleb's people, absolutely despise Alec's plan. But, two days and far too few hours of sleep later, they agree his plan has the best shot of achieving their aims. The damage Alec could do to the Circle with full access and proof of their activities is beyond anything the Clave has managed in the past decade.

So Alec goes undercover in the Circle to bring them down, maintaining a hard-won balance between gaining their trust without being forced into the very acts he's sworn himself to stop. (Caleb and his people certainly earn their overtime the months Alec's plan is in action.)

However, one cold December day, Valentine summons Alec to his ship to assist in interrogating his latest batch of prisoners. Alec makes short conversation with the 'welcoming crew', never so grateful as to be known across the Shadow World for his lack of care for social niceties. No one expects him to be friendly, focused as he is on a task, and he escapes the Circle members on the deck quickly to walk the familiar path to the brig.

He eyes the guards on the doors as he passes, scowling at their care in searching even him before being granted entry. This is the only prison he's yet to find a means for subtly ensuring the occupant's escape and it galls him. But, this is where Valentine makes his home and the security unfortunately matches the importance.

Only one cell is occupied and Alec moves to it swiftly. His stele is drawn to let himself in, the prisoners always secured to the wall in double surety, but he pauses the moment his eyes meet the warlock's gaze within.

The warlock is fiercely angry, cat-eyes luminous in loathing, and Alec is helpless but to shudder in a breath at the sudden agony emblazoning itself across his chest. Magnus, the warlock is Magnus Bane, Alec knows the mark of his city's High Warlock, is ethereal in his rage even as he hunches his shoulders inward to ward off the same pain he shares with Alec. With his soulmate.

The world goes quiet in Alec's ears, his pulse rushing as he feels their souls merge, feels their sigils branding over each other's hearts, linking them together in an indelible, unbreakable bond. Alec has prayed to Raziel since he was a child that one day he would feel such joy, meet his fated, has grown to believe with every year older that perhaps he wasn't meant for love, only for rule, and here, finally he has found his dearest and... and Alec is standing in front of him, unbound, in Valentine's prison.

"Shadowhunter," Magnus snarls, horror and despair in his eyes.

Alec swallows shattered glass, a slowly growing grief welling in his chest. He doesn't whisper the endearments he'd so carefully planned as a child, the years he'd believed his Fated to be merely around the next corner. He doesn't move to release Magnus' chains and draw him into his arms.

Alec is ice-carved and brittle as he forces down the bond he wants beyond everything else in this life and spits out, "Warlock."

To acknowledge that anything has occurred in the sight of Valentine's guards is death, and the sudden, cruel smirk in Magnus' eyes means he knows the brutal edge of that blackmail will cut both their throats if he lets it.

The grief in Alec's chest solidifies, piercing through any hope that Alec had thought to hold close to his heart those few, precious seconds before reality set in. There is nothing he can say, nothing he can do that will allow him to shelter in his soulmate's love.

His own mother had told Alec he didn't deserve the Angel's gift, and he'd been foolish to believe otherwise, if not perhaps for the same reasons as Maryse. His people have done too much harm, have spread too much hate and Alec, trying as is to do good, is nowhere near enough to offset that balance.

His soulmate will hate him. Even if Alec can tell him one day that there is a reason beside spycraft that he refuses to wear the Circle's rune, he is too dirtied by what he's done for peace to ever be accepted.

So when Magnus leans close to him in the midst of the upcoming interrogation, keeping just soft enough his whisper doesn't carry beyond Alec's hearing, Alec flinches at every vicious word when Magnus hisses, "A monster for a monster."

-

[INSERT HAPPY ENDING HERE with mutual forgiveness and the schmoopy, happy Immortal Husbands we all love.]

[After copious Alec-angst of him believing he's utterly undeserving of a soulmate, especially one so beautiful and kind and strong and perfect as Magnus, and also Magnus-angst of him dealing with believing that his soul's match is a Circle member after eight hundred years of waiting. Cat and Ragnor have tried so hard to convince Magnus that he isn't a monster after what his childhood and parentage proved him capable of, but he dares them to argue against it now. Also, we all know I am a SUCKER for Significant Kneeling and the reveal of Alec not, in fact, being a Circle member seems like a GREAT time for a little Significant Kneeling if you catch my visual drift there.]

[ao3topshipsbracket]

Screaming bc I keep reading the tags on the polls and they're all like "well I like x ship more but Y ship had a higher impact on tumblr history"

BROTHERS, THATS NOT WHAT ITS ABOUT...ITS ABOUT VOTING WHICH SHIP YOU LIKE MORE. (OR WHICH ONE YOU HATE LESS. IN SOME CASES)

i mean we do say "this is a celebration of fandom history" on every single poll. like that is very much a thing that the polls say.

anyway you can vote according to whatever you feel like. you can vote for whichever ship you like more. you can vote for the ship you hate less. you can vote according to impact on fandom history. you can vote for the more annoying fanbase, or the less annoying fanbase, or the ship that has more instances of the letter E in their names. people can argue that we should all be voting according to whichever criterion they think is the right one, if they want. and you can find those arguments unconvincing, if you want. be free.