#(there was technical issues and then i had to go to work)

[enderlovez]

On Thin Ice

Spencer Reid x Chubby Reader WORD COUNT: 1300+

Summary: After a particularly grueling case, the weight of your insecurities catches up with you. Despite years of toughening yourself against judgment, an unexpected moment of self-doubt has you questioning everything—until Spencer reminds you of your worth.

Content Warning: body image issues, insecurity and self doubt, emotional vulnerability, mentions of childhood bullying, Spencer is a sweetheart, metaphors about falling through ice

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

You've always been the fat kid.

The one picked last for teams in gym class. The one who endured sidelong glances at lunch when you grabbed a second slice of pizza, even though everyone else was already on their third. The one people were dared to ask out during games of truth or dare.

The one whose confidence had to be built like a fortress over the years of relentless judgement, brick by painstaking brick. You'd grown used to the torment over the years—or so you thought.

The things you've seen in this job are enough to shatter most people—dead bodies and grieving familiar and the kind of darkness that crawls under your skin and refuses to leave.

You've stood on the edge of danger more times than you care to count, facing down killers without so much as flinching, literally been stabbed and shot. None of it breaks you. But tonight, staring at your reflection in the BAU bathroom mirror, you feel like you're crumbling.

Your blouse, which you'd liked when you put it on this morning, now feels all wrong. The fabric stretches across your chest and stomach in ways that make your skin crawl.

It fits—technically—but your brain won't let you believe it. The logical part of you knows it's fine—it fits and it looks good, no one cares. But the voice in your head, the one you've spent years trying to quiet, whispers, Isn't it a little snug?

You press your palms flat against the sink, trying to steady your breathing. Why does this matter? you ask yourself. Why do I care?

You see the worst humanity has to offer every day. You quite literally deal with life and death and unimaginable grief. Your body—how it looks, how it fits into societal expectations—should be the least of your concerns.

And yet, here you are.

Maybe part of the reason everything feels to terrible tonight is because of him—Spencer. He's been talking to you heaps more lately, and though it really should make you feel better, it only deepens whatever this insecure feeling inside you is.

The way he moves, the way he talks, the way his beautiful mind works—everything about him fascinates you, and you've been harboring this ridiculous, all-consuming crush for months.

But no matter how much you try to push it down, it always creeps back in, and with it comes the certainty that you're not his type. How could you be? He's brilliant and kind and effortlessly charming in his own unique way, and you're... you. Soft in all the undesirable places, sometimes a little too loud for even yourself.

It's not that you don't think you're worth something, but when you're next to him, it's hard not to feel like you fade into the background. And you've been next to him a lot more than usual.

The mirror reflects your frown back at you, the tightness in your chest growing until it feels like you might snap. You splash cold water on your face, hoping the shock will pull you out of your spiral.

It doesn't, but you can pretend it does.

The bullpen is quiet when you step back into it, the hum of computers and the rustle of papers the only sounds. Most of the team has gone home for the night, except for Spencer.

You find him in the kitchenette, his tall frame bent awkwardly as he wrestles with the ancient coffee maker.

He glances up as you walk in, his expression softening when he sees you. "Couldn't sleep?"

Right—you were going to nap somewhere before getting back to work before you detoured to the bathroom.

You shrug, leaning against the counter. "Something like that."

Spencer nods, his focus shifting back to the coffee pot. "I think this machine predates the invention of modern technology," he mutters, earning a faint smile from you. He pours two mugs of coffee and hands one to you, his finger brushing your briefly.

"Thanks," you say, your voice quieter than you intended.

For a while, the two of you drink in silence, no words shared. None are needed. It's comforting, standing next to him in the soft glow of the kitchenette light. For a moment, you almost almost feel normal in your own skin. Like everyone else.

Except Spencer has always been too perceptive (especially when it comes to you, but you don't need to know that), and you can feel his gaze periodically flicking toward you, studying your face.

"You know," he says eventually, "it's okay to feel overwhelmed. You don't have to hold it together all the time, not when you're... in this particular profession."

The comment catches you off guard, and you look at him sharply. His expression is calm, his tone heartbreakingly gentle, but the words hit a nerve. You force a laugh, trying to deflect. "I'm fine, Spencer. Just tired is all."

He doesn't buy it. Of course, he doesn't. This is Spencer Reid, profiler extraordinaire, the man who can read you like an open book even when you think you're being subtle.

"Are you?" he asks, tilting his head slightly. His voice is soft, but there's an unfamiliar firmness to it that makes you pause.

You want to brush him off, to keep the walls you've built around yourself firmly in place. But the words slip out before you can stop them—apparently your subconscious is desperate to get it out.

"I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's just that sometimes I feel like... I don't know, like I don't belong here. Like I'm walking on thin ice, and any second it's going to crack, and I'm going to fall through."

Spencer's brows knit together, and he sets his mug down on the counter. "Why would you feel like that?"

You hesitate, the familiar shame and embarrassment bubbling up in your chest. "Because I've always been the... the fat one, okay? The one people look at and judge before they even know my name. I should be used to it by now. I am used to it, but sometimes..."

You trail off, swallowing hard.

"Sometimes it just gets to me, and I hate that it does, because it's so stupid. There are so many bigger things to worry about than how I look. People are actually dying out there, and I'm sitting here worried about my stupid blouse being too tight..."

Spencer step closer, his expression unreadable. For a moment, you wonder if you've said too much, if he thinks you're being ridiculous. But then he speaks, and his voice is steady, full of quiet conviction.

"It's not stupid. What you're feeling is valid," he says. "And you're not 'the fat one.' You're you—intelligent and compassionate and one of the strongest people I've ever met. The way you connect with people and make them feel seen, even in the darkest moments of their life—that's not something everyone can do. That's you."

The words hit you like a wave, the sincerity in his tone making your throat tighten. You look down at your coffee, unable to meet his eyes.

"You don't have to say that just to make me feel better," you mumble.

"I'm not just saying it to make you feel better," he replies. "I mean it."

He hesitates for a moment before reaching out, his hand hovering near yours. When you don't pull away—you don't think you could ever make yourself pull away from Spencer—he rests it gently on top of yours. The warmth of his touch is grounding, and for the first time all night, you feel like you can breathe again.

"Thin ice can hold more weight than you think," he says quietly. "And even if it does crack, you won't fall. I'll make sure of it."

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you think them away quickly. "Thank you, Spencer," you say, your voice thick with emotion.

"Anytime." He smiles, the kind of smile that feels like sunlight breaking through the clouds. "And for the record, I think you're beautiful."

Your heart does a little flip, your face warming. Maybe one day you can tell him how you feel, how desperately in love you are with him.

Baby steps.

[floralscented]

ㅤ ㅤㅤmy boy's a mechanic! . . . charlie baker.

────────────────────────────────────────────

you knew nothing about cars. not a thing. you put the key in the ignition, the engine started, and that was about it. being an only child, your dad thought that he'd make your life easier by never letting you struggle. that was how he ended up doing all of your mechanic work, sometimes even pumping your gas for you.

sure, it was nice; being spoiled always was. but the downsides came quickly when your parents were out of town, and your car spluttered to a stop on the side of the road.

couldn't call your dad, not wanting to stress him out. couldn't call your mom, because she'd tell your dad, and of course they would have come home to help you, but how awful would it be to be the sole reason their mini vacation was ruined?

so you called charlie. charlie was incredible self-sufficient; knew how to cook, worked maintenance on his family's cars, could fix most plumbing and technical issues around his house. all-in-all, he was a perfect choice to call in your troubles.

you stood outside in the blazing summer heat, the hood of your car propped open, and you staring inside at the engine and the mechanics, seeing a lot and understanding none of it.

"right, so you see the gas cap?" charlie's voice scratches through the receiver and into your ear. "open it, like you're fillin' your tank."

your arms cross over your chest, a little whine falling out of your mouth. "charlie, i have plenty of gas. i'm not going over there. it's somethin' with the engine or... something."

"mhm," charlie hums and clears his throat, "go to the side of the car, baby."

you bristle, slamming the hood of the car shut with your freed hand. "so, what, you want me to just look in there and see how full of gas my car definitely is?"

"i want you to look in there and make sure it's gas." he's always been patient with you, but it was clear that he had siblings, from the way it came so easily to talk back to you. "from what you're sayin', with the terrible grindin' noises and the splutters, could have been siphoned and replaced."

"hm."

charlie snorts. there's rustling on his end, and then his voice is back and clear. "hm. don't give me attitude, baby, i'll leave you on the side of the road."

the growl in your throat is entirely made up of the aggression starting to build inside of you. "you leave me on the side of the road, charlie baker, we're breaking up."

"no," charlie says, drawling the word out, and there's more scratchy sounds, like he's running the phone cord beneath his shirt and rustling it. "--you're brea'ing up. where r'you?"

"leaving the city. rural backroads or something." well, this was just great. car was maybe out of gas, engine was maybe shot, and you were without cell signal on the side of the road. you whine all over again. "charlie."

charlie sighs. "m'comin', okay? lemme grab s'tools and--" he cuts out, and then the line drops. you flip your phone shut and throw it in the open window of your car in fury. it wasn't his fault. none of this was charlie's fault. but you were definitely allowed to be angry when you were stuck on the side of the road for god knew how long.

the answer was twelve minutes. you sit in your driver's seat, watching the time tick by on the clock of your radio, and twelve minutes later you see the rusty outline of charlie's truck roll up behind you.

"supposed to have your hazards on when you're pulled off like this," he says immediately upon his arrival, and then he presses a kiss to your forehead. "hi baby."

your mouth twists into a devastated pout. "don't be sweet with me when you tried to tell me this was all because i'm out of gas."

his lips twitch, and he reaches up with the hand not holding a toolbox to adjust the brim of his red baseball cap. "'course it's not out of gas. your tire blew."

"what?" your shock is audible, leaning half out of the driver's side window to look at your two tires. sure enough, the back driver's side one was flat. charlie's dimples poke into his cheeks in his innocent grin. "why didn't you say that?"

"why didn't you say that?" charlie shoots back, bending down to drop the toolbox into the grass. "i can't see your tires over a phone, baby."

your eyes roll again, and charlie laughs. "i'll get it all taken care of, honey." he circles around to your trunk, pushing it open. "aren't you so glad now that i made you get that spare tire 'stead of ice cream a few weeks ago?"

"no." your voice is grumbly, punctuated by the pout of your mouth. "it was at least eighty bucks more than a vanilla cone with sprinkles, no cherry."

charlie gives you a look, but his eyes glimmer all the same. "i should make you change this, since you wanna have an attitude about my graciousness."

he lugs the tire out of your trunk, rolling it over to rest against the backdoor. "no, you know what?" he continues, strong arms crossing over his broad chest. "i'll teach you. come n' dirty up that dress, baby."

as much as you want to protest, it was thoughtful of him, to not coddle you like your father spent the entirety of your life doing. having eleven siblings couldn't have been easy, but it'd turned charlie into an expert on how to deal with the likes of you.

so you watch him change out your tires, explaining each step along the way, making you dirty up your hands ( and your dress ) to show him that you were absorbing his instructions.

and when charlie circles around your car to turn it on, check if the system was reading the tire pressure right or whatever it was that he'd said, you can hear it from your perch against the door. the ding of the low fuel indicator.

charlie breaks into a cackle. "go ahead and tell me again how full of gas your car is?"

"shut up," you grumble, tossing a wad of ripped out grass at him.

"more like my baby's full of shit, i think."

you lunge forward to push at his shoulder with a laugh, and charlie takes the time to grab your wrist and tug you into his lap. his foot hooks underneath the car door to shut it behind you, his other hand reaching backwards to flip the hazards on. it was the right thing to do, after all, even though the car was fine now.

they didn't need someone rolling up next to them with charlie's hands up the skirt of your dress.

────────────────────────────────────────────

this one's to u @starzify who dared me to make more. and to u, u, u, and u, my fellow charlie baker lovebots 🙂‍↕ @deansbeer, @titsout4jackles, & @ultravi0lence14

[thefirstknife]

Go off! It's the Cinemasins Effect. There is no literary analysis, just listing of facts like you're reading a Wikipedia summary. Devoid of accounting for personality traits, external influences, basic human (or alien) contradictory nature, unreliable narration (always present in Destiny), multiple points of view that are clashing (because that's how the world works), etc., these facts tell us little about the actual story so it's easy to misinterpret obvious solutions.

A listed fact might say "Eramis endangered her own house by opening the Vex portal on Europa" and then whenever Eramis talks about caring for her people, someone who engages with only the list might think "That makes no sense!" And it does, if we go deeper and account for her desperation and corruption and how much she did not understand what was happening to her. She desperately tried proving that she has agency, but it was the exact opposite; while fleeing from the Traveler claiming not wanting to be its pawn, she was actually the pawn of the Witness. She was used by the Witness to get us, the real target, to be tempted with stasis and the moment she lost (no longer worthy of being a part of the final shape), she was discarded. However, not entirely, because she still had to remain a pawn potentially to be used later when the Witness needs a convenient and desperate soldier to enact its plans under a threat of a total annihilation of her people; because that's what the Witness does. She literally commented on this, how the Witness is "punishing her" by turning her friends into Scorn.

But we never see even a fraction of this kind of analysis in the most popular circles and "lore masters" will always prioritise just listing events and doing "Ending EXPLAINED!" videos with zero character motivations or analysis mentioned. I won't even go into how much of Destiny story is obviously constricted by technical elements and the type of game it is, which is something people forget all the time and expect Destiny to suddenly have a singleplayer RPG level of game design which simply will not happen. A lot of the perceived faults in the narrative are almost always of technical nature and writers themselves have spoken about this. I feel like that has to be included in any analysis worth a damn because Destiny's story is trapped within the confines of the genre of media it is in (first person looter shooter); while the story is a major part of the game's essence, gameplay comes first, always. If the story has to be constrained for gameplay purposes, it will be. If it has to be constrained because there's not enough time or resources to add more dialogues or cutscenes or to expand the scope of every character or to create a more complex narrative, it will be. Given all of this, I think the team has done a great job for Eramis over the years and kept her arc as consistent as possible which made this ending easy to predict and satisfying because the arc has concluded as it was intended.

At the end of the day, I don't even mind if people have a personal reason to think "Actually I would never have forgiven Eramis." I'm sure there are characters in-setting who think that; either because of a lack of knowledge about her (if you're just some random citizen, you don't know the details of her corruption or her internal feelings) or because you were personally victimised by her (a lot of Eliksni fled House Salvation because of what she did on Europa that endangered their lives; they may never be ready to forgive her or accept her). That's completely fine. As a matter of fact, I expect it! It adds depth to the story.

The issue is that these people usually go about it by blaming the writers and saying that the writers told their own story wrong. That this decision was objectively incorrect or somehow bad for the narrative or a retcon or out of character or whatever. And it's just not. We, the players, who have all information and everyone's internal feelings presented in the story and lore books, know that this was the intended character arc for Eramis since the moment she didn't get killed at the end of Beyond Light.

Eramis Executors are up in arms that our favorite, bitter, lesbian crab didn’t receive a bullet to her head to no one’s surprise. What happened to the overarching themes involving forgiveness and mending the wounds of the past to build a better future for everyone resonating with people? Does the Traveler and what it has been representing for 10 years mean nothing when it comes to Eramis? Were we supposed to abandon the power of friendship? Is punishment with no consideration the only way of dealing with those who have committed wrong acts that people know of?

[xmads-omensx]

Part 3

Word Count: 1,759

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

Content Warnings: fake dating, mild harassment, swearing

Tags: @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @chey-h @amelia-acero @thisbicc @dominuslunae @enemiestolovershoe @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp

The next week or so had gone by smoothly.

Like clockwork, I would pack my things from my desk and get the elevator down to the lobby with Gabi and Ashley, whilst Stephen glared at us from the glass wall of his office.

Noah would be stood in the car park, leaning against his car and would pull me into a kiss or a hug depending on if he noticed Stephen watching from his office, which he did most days.

Thankfully, our little arrangement seemed to have warded Stephen off for the time being.

There had been no pointless meetings, which he spent questioning me on my personal life or just ogling me in my button up shirt.

There had been less arm touches. Granted, he hadn’t stopped, but I was grateful for the reduction of them nonetheless.

Our plan was going perfectly.

The only issue that I had faced was when Gabi pointed out that I didn’t have any photos of Noah and I on my desk. I had no photos at all on my desk besides a photo of my family dog, Rocket, who had been my partner in crime for as long as I could remember.

He was a brown labrador, he was getting older sadly, but I didn’t love him any less.

Besides me, Rocket loved Noah.

Everyone in the office knew how much I loved that dog.

Then it hit me.

If I put a photo of Noah and Rocket on my desk, then our relationship would be more plausible.

After work I made Noah drive me to the nearest Walmart so that I could print a photo I had taken of the two last Christmas and buy a nice frame for it.

“Why did you pick that one? I look stupid.” Noah exclaimed.

“No you look cute.” I defended with a sigh, already fed up of his complaining.

He had been like this ever since I had explained my idea of putting the photo on my desk.

“No, I look like an idiot. I am wearing a matching Christmas jumper with a dog. A fucking dog Y/N!” Noah laughed.

“Hey! Don’t be mean about Rocket, we both know you love him.” I exclaimed.

It was nice falling into this rhythm with Noah. We still joked around like nothing had changed, which technically it hadn’t, but something still felt off.

Our arrangement became like an inside joke within the group, seeing as it was quite hilarious seeing Noah and I scramble to act like a couple whenever we were nearby my office building or any of the coffee shops that Grace liked to frequent.

“Rocket hates me.” Noah huffed in response.

“Don’t be ridiculous Noah.” I scolded. “He barked at you ONE TIME  because you startled him. You know this.”

“Sure, whatever.” Noah stropped jokingly.

He huffed about the particular photo that I had chosen right up until he had dropped me back off at my place that evening.

When I put it on my desk in the office, I sent him a photo of it, to which he replied with the middle finger emoji, making me laugh.

The photo made our relationship more realistic in the eyes of my colleagues. If they believed the relationship was real, then Stephen was bound to believe it was real eventually.

“I see you and your little boyfriend are official now?” Stephen’s raspy voice, caused by years of smoking cigarettes, interrupted my momentary peace.

“We aren’t official now. We’ve been official for our entire relationship.” I sighed, frustrated that he was still sceptical about my relationship with Noah.

In fairness, the relationship was a lie, so I had nothing really to defend.

“And how long might that be?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Two years.” I replied simply, wanting this interaction to end.

“That’s a long time.” He said.

“yeah, I guess it is.” I said.

“Especially without a ring.” Stephen gestured at my left hand.

I stilled.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Gabi choke on the water she was drinking. It took all I had to not laugh at her reaction.

“We aren’t quite there yet.” I responded as deadpan as I could, just wanting this conversation to be over.

“Why not? You’re beautiful, and I’m sure Norman is a lot better once you get to know him.” Stephen said offhandedly, leaning on�� my desk.

“Noah.” I curtly replied. “And, I’m not too sure that whether my boyfriend and I are engaged or not is any of your concern?”

I chose to ignore the fact that he called Noah unattractive, because he was clearly blind, but the whole interaction was irritating me.

“I just want my employees to be happy, is that a crime?” Stephen asked with a shrug.

“Zacky and I got married four months ago, and you still haven’t said congratulations.” Gabi piped up bluntly.

“Emma and I got engaged two months ago.” Ashley added.

Stephen simply sighed, “Well I don’t see how this chat is allowing either of you to do your work.” He snapped at Gabi and Ashley who promptly rolled their eyes and got back to their paperwork.

“You let me know if Nelson hurts you, right Y/N?” Stephen said with fake concern, caressing my forearm before walking back to his office.

I fake gagged at Gabi and Ashley after he was out of eyeline.

“You better go wash that arm.” Ashley laughed, making Gabi and I laugh in turn.

I did, in fact, wash my arm after that interaction.

On my way back from the bathroom, my phone buzzed in the back pocket of my dress-pants. It was a text from Matt on the groupchat.

Matt: Party this weekend. Welcome home for ERRA. Be there or else.

The text made me chuckle.

“Is that Norton?” That familiar raspy voice shattered my joy.

“Noah.” I corrected, walking past him and back to my desk.

Luckily, he didn’t follow me back to my desk, but that didn’t put my mind at ease at all.

His presence was still a complete stain on my day and it made my skin crawl. It felt like he was always watching me and I hated it.

“He still bothering you?” Ashley asked once I sat down.

“Yep.” I sighed.

“Ew.” She sighed, absentmindedly clicking on her computer.

Ashley and Gabi were my best work friends. We had all instantly bonded over our shared love for microwave ramen, and had formed a little ramen club, in which we tried a different flavour of ramen each week.

Sadly, since Stephen had been forcing his way into as many aspects of my life that he could, we had to put an end to it.

The rest of the day went by relatively uneventfully. Stehpen kept himself away in his office, probably sensing that the three women who sat in the bull pen outside of said office, were more than willing to tear his head from his body if given the chance.

By the time 5pm rolled around, I was exhausted and desperate to jump into a long, hot shower with my chill playlist blaring from my speaker.

Noah waited for me in his usual spot and as I waved goodbye to Gabi and Ashley before greeting Noah with a hug.

Before I even realised what was happening, Noah picked me up, spun me around and kissed me deeply. It was by far the most intense kiss we had shared, therefore Stephen must be watching.

I secretly hoped that Stephen was watching me greet Noah after every shift. For one, I revelled in the idea of it ruining his day, and two, I was starting to enjoy kissing Noah.

“I hate that guy.” Noah angrily muttered as we got into his car.

“He’s the literal devil incarnate.” I sighed, resting my head on the passenger side window.

“You feeling okay?” Noah asked. “We can just hang at your place and not go to the party.”

“No, we have to go, they’re our friends. Besides, I could use a good distraction right now.” I smiled at him, making him smile in return.

“Ugh, I was kinda hoping you’d let me bail.” He laughed, making me giggle.

“Keep dreaming.” I sighed, playfully slapping the side of his face.

The rest of the drive home was filled with a comfortable silence, that is, until we arrived back at Noah’s house.

Music was playing from inside the house, a mix of ABBA, Mariah Carey and some other random music that Jesse had deemed ‘party worthy’.

Upon entering the vibrant and lively house, I said brief hellos to everyone before running up to Noah’s room to get myself ready for the party.

It was routine at this point for me to get myself ready in Noah’s room.

The room was familiar.

He always kept it neat and pristine, with the only objects littering the surfaces being my own hairties, claw clips and makeup brushes.

He never moved them or tidied them away. He always left them exactly where they were.

A small box sat on his bathroom counter that contained makeup remover, moisturizer, pimple patches and period products, ready for me to use.

Noah always wanted to be prepared for whenever I came over, but I had heard over the last couple of weeks that this hadn’t always worked in his favour.

Grace was convinced that the box meant that Noah was sleeping with other women, when he wasn’t. Noah had tried to explain that the box was for me when I came over, but she wouldn’t listen, and instead resorted to outright hatred towards me.

According to Noah, Grace had been possessive over him for the majority of their time together, despite it being nothing serious.

I laughed when I reminisced over Noah recapping the entire story to me. He kept having to pause in order for me to react with a “she did what?” or a “is she nuts?”, which had made him laugh in turn.

I pulled on my jeans and black corset top, just in time for a knock to sound on Noah’s bedroom door.

“I’m coming now.” I said, hurrying to the door, which opened to reveal Noah waiting for me.

“Well you better not be cumming in my bedroom.” He said with mock anger, making me laugh.

“As if any woman would be cumming in your bedroom.” I laughed, playfully slapping his chest.

A shrill, nasaly laugh interrupted my train of thought.

“Well, I did.” The same voice said with a painfully annoying giggle.

Grace.

[macgyvermedical]

Preview of an idea I had. Might continue it, might not. It’s a story about a nurse living through a Second American Civil War around the year 2032. I want it to be episodic, told through nurse’s notes and the character’s private journal:

They killed Bradey on a rainy Wednesday in February.

That’s it. That’s how I’m starting this. It was raining and they shot him. Or. Well. It was drizzling. Not the point. The street was wet, and he was wearing a red cross made of duct tape on the back of his shirt. He’s fucking dead.

So I guess now that that happened. I guess. Um. I wanted to record some things. Just in case the same happens to me. Which it will- might. I don’t know yet.

The date is February 12, 2032. The Second American Civil War has been going on for 714 days. Officially. We all know it started before that. But like, if someone’s trying to line things up with a history book.

That’s where we’re at.

Most of the greater Seattle area gets electricity about 4 hours a day. Fuel ration is 2 gallons a week. The food situation is… well, I’ve lost 35 pounds. Which technically I had it to lose, but still fucking sucks when you’re not trying. Meds are a constant issue. So are sterile things. But at least with things that are supposed to be sterile you can make them clean enough if you have the things themselves. Meds… you either have or you don’t. There’s not a lot of them you can make yourself.

I wish I could tell you more about Bradey. Maybe I will someday. But to get things started he was a doctor. I ran his standalone urgent care out of the second floor of the Denny building for the last 5 years. Fee for service only. Sliding scale. Bradey hated insurance companies. And…. modernity in general. If he could have ridden a horse in the city and accepted chickens as payment he would have. Most people don’t have chickens here, though. Which, if I’m being honest, has turned out to be a real fucking shame.

I don’t have any of Bradey’s personal writings. Or, well, I do, technically. But they’re locked in his desk. Even if I could get them out I don’t read his cursive well enough to decipher them. Jackass. I’d be willing to trade a good few weeks’ fuel ration to an octogenarian locksmith with at least one good eye.

My handwriting’s not the best, but I realize all of my own notes are in a crappy old office laptop with like a quarter of a working battery. If the electricity situation gets any worse I want… Well, I want whoever wants it to have this. I don’t know. Maybe no one will. From now on everything goes on paper.

—-------------J. Shaw, RN—----------------------

[urautismdiagnosis]

Ships hehe

BOATS (ships)

OK SO I won't tolerate anyone trashing aro ace people or queer platonic relationships or invalidating them, THAT OUT OF THE WAY TIME FOR HEADCANONSSS

barnacles and kwazii 🐻‍❄️💛🐱: I originally shipped them when I was like 12 lol

To me they're going to become a QPR and they mean the world to me.

I need to start actually posting my stories to showcase what's gonna happen BUT CMON GUYS THEY HAD AN ENTIRE EPISODE ABOUT THEM BEING A SYMBIOTIC RELATIONSHIP?!

Like I'm gonna be so real they were octopod POD mates. (Their rooms in the same bubble lol)

Kwazii is his ✨first mate✨

They're a married couple that doesn't realize it yet!I'm going to trauma bond them and no one can stop me. Cuz I've already done it 😎👍✨

They deeply trust eachother! I'm going to make barnacles hold what he thinks is kwazii dead in his arms! Barnacles loves this silly cat man! Kwazii loves to be appreciated and make barnacles proud! They emotionally support eachother! Kwazii is going to have nightmares about the captain dying in a horrific way that totally doesn't relate to the intens epsychological trauma I've given him! Barnacles wants to be useful and have someone to love but also someone to tell him its ok and that he doesn't have to be perfect or brave all the time! Kwazii wants to not be alone and prove himself to someone who truly sees the worth in him while being able to trust that they'd always stay loyal together! They have so many inside jokes and shared moments of near death experiences! Accordian music and shanties!

anyways onto SHELLINGTON AND DASHI AY AY AY AYYYY

Uhhh so I haven't posted their designs and my headcanons but yes Shellington is autistic to me (totally not me projecting but yall see the username. Ill get into why I think he's autistic on my character design post for him) and yes I think yk what? Maybe he was a little lonely and weird as a kid and yk what also? Maybe he does have some chronic pain too I dont make the rules (yes I do)

Anyways like shellington, I'm giving my baby issues and fears relating to not being like part of the group lol. Subconsciously anyways. And yk he found his people, the octonauts who value him and his interests and dont blame him for messing up lol and he likes himself as a person

(BTW he wouls totally try to adopt a cryptid like creature (new species!) abomination and name it Steve I already have an entire plot)

Do yall remember when they were sent to spend several weeks alone together in the midnight zone cuz I do

Regardless i think dashi just casually asked him ayyo wanna date and then he bluescreened LOL

As for dashi well, I'll get into her headcanons when I post her character design as well, but regardless she needs someone who understands and supports her passions without judgement yk?

She is so incredible,like photography, computer specialist, apparently technically a scientist, a surfer, able to pilot deep marine vehicles, got swallowed by a whale, did a flip from the manta ray while diving FRKM SEVERAL METWRS IN THE AIR INTO WAYER THAT WAS ABOUT TO HAVE LAVA POUR INTO IT???, and is a whole pilot now apaprently???

Like holy-

Anyways yeah dashi thinks shellington is an amazing single father with so much kindness and emotional intelligence and many many charming qualities 🥰

Shellington thinks dashi is Like actually a really really awesome person??? Like they both like organizing things!! Shes funny and smart!! They can both talk about eachothers interests and he likes to make her happy!! She's really cool and kind and helps him with stuff and she's super intelligent and charming! He just thinks she's oh so very cool. She's so confident and has kind eyes 🥰

Anyways yes

Btw just wanna say that tweak is like if u were aro ace to the max lolll shes just content with her life and friends lol

now for the penguin(s) in the room

ok so shes gonna be a plot relevant character in a story I've got in the works (The Oil RIg) it'll be a fun ride dw, but we love medic x depressed woman its great and yes I do think peso could pull any gal just by existing like straight up fight me on this fight me fIGHT ME-

ok not fight I'm not like that but I will stand on this hill till I die

but fr tho it was a whole telenovellahow they met omg- I'm talking the drama- thelore- thesoftmoments and the heartbreaking goodbyes- not to worry tho they do meet again and are like long distance(with tons of visiting) lol they have a very healthy relationship tho considering that shes like idk, ig fresh out of a like, very unhealthy environment

i ain't gonna spoil anything rn tho lol but she Gon save his life and he gon save hers and its gonna be beautiful<3 <3 <#

[fuckitimrowan]

you know especially in light of season 2 i wanna say that vi from arcane and thalia grace are literally the same energy. i hesitate though because where does this leave jason

[chimneyz]

2024 Fic Round Up

tagged by @mmso-notlikethat thank you <3

this year was actually my first year writing fanfiction and i only started in mid november during that time i have written 4 fics and 38,646 words under the ao3 handle thegayestdisaster (not including the stuff i wrote for exclusively tumblr) i had a lot of fun writing these and i am excited to write more

i also wanted to thank those who have read and liked them and this wonderful fandom

To Think We Could Stay the Same

Bucktommy | 6 out of 15 Chapters Completed | 26k | M

"I'll see you around, Buck" The door clicks behind him, officially closing him off from his hopes, his dreams, the man that he lo- No, not that, not after everything. It would hurt too much to say it, to even think it. His heart pounds in his ears, the beats increasing. Why is it so hard to breathe, it shouldn't be this hard to breathe. Before he knows it, his feet move quickly down the hall slightly staggering. Everything around him is a blur, the pounding of his heart becoming unbearable. He halts nearly tripping slamming his palm to the wall anchoring him in his place so he doesn't collapse to the floor below. With his free hand, he places pressure against his temples as he lets out an anguished sob. No, he can't, not here.

The Act of Gift Giving

Bucktommy | 1.5k | T

It's been a month since Tommy left, Buck was still on his baking spree trying his hardest to not text Tommy. He's only witnessed Tommy bubbling him once but he likes to think Tommy has done it more than just once. Buck gets back home from a long grueling shift and finds a package on his doorstep, Buck wasn't expecting any packages and there was no return address, or any address, whoever this was from had to of dropped it off. Buck stared at it for hours before he opened it, to his surprise it was a porcelain husky (at least he thought it was porcelain) it seemed old and very much loved in a past life. Buck laughed at himself, he has always been compared to a golden retriever by others, but there was one person who said otherwise. "No, no" Tommy smiled at him one day, "you aren't a golden retriever, you are a husky, fiercely loyal, intelligent, goofy, and yeah a bit of a yapper but loveable nonetheless." 

Under the Mistletoe

Bucktommy | 7.2k | T

He knew this day would come, he had been dreading it with every fiber of his being, but he knew it would come. Especially after what happened last week. Turns out today was that day. The melancholic sounds of The Cure sang through the radio in Tommy's truck, he hasn't been able to listen to much else besides The Cure. Sure maybe throw in some Radiohead and The Smiths but it mostly has been The Cure since the break up. Tommy knew that it was all his fault, that he was the one that ended things, but still, it's been a while since Tommy felt this melancholic about the end of a relationship. The sun was setting, painting the sky a brilliant orange, but it was hard to pay attention to the beautiful sky when there was only one thing on his mind. A text, one singular text that squeezed his heart to an aching pile of mush.

Blue Christmas

Bucktommy | 3.5k | T

A sharp blade of sunlight stabbed through the blackout curtains right into Tommy's eyes, it was unbearable enough to wake him from his slumber. In a groggy groan, Tommy shifted his body, facing away from the sunlight, pulling the blankets over his head cocooning himself in darkness once more. A sharp pain drilled into his brain making it throb against his skull. The pressure from it makes it feel as if his brain formed thumbs pressing against the back of his eyes trying their damndest to push them out of his head. A botched lobotomy would have been better than his. The stale taste of last night's alcohol coated his tongue, it was bitter.

i know it's super late to do this so i am pretty sure all my writer mutuals have already been tagged so if you see this and want to join in consider yourself tagged by me ☺️

[sugarsnappeases]

thank you for the tag @fxreflyes this is so cute, except the format is trying to hinder my propensity to ramble, so i’ve rectified this in the tags lmao

i’m over 5'5 / i wear glasses or contacts / i have blonde hair / i often wear sweatshirts / i prefer loose clothing over tight clothes / i have one or two piercings / i have at least one tattoo / i have blue eyes / i have dyed or highlighted my hair / i have or have had braces / i have freckles / i paint my nails / i typically wear makeup / i don’t often smile / resting bitch face / i play sports / i play an instrument / i know more than one language / i can cook or bake / i like writing / i like to read / i can multitask / i’ve never dated anyone / i have a best friend i’ve known for over five years / i am an only child

no pressure tags for @static-radio-ao3 @inevitablestars @itsjaywalkers @carniferous @orbitfalls @transsexualpriest @futurequibblerjournalist <333

[essenceofarda]

.

[pancakeke]

when I "finish" a query but it takes more than 10 seconds to load I just tell people it doesn't work yet until I can optimize it lol cause the only reason anything would run that slow is if I messed something up wrong

[muirneach]

aaagh. i try not to worry so much about money and whatnot because its my number one anxiety and im sooo happy i have my job because its really easy and also tennis themed but they are NOT giving me a lot of hours. i wanted to work full time (or at least like 30 hours a week) this summer because i didnt work all school year and i really really need cash for university. some back of napkin calculations tell me id make an extra ~1.5k if i was working back at my minimum wage job this summer. and i would be doing two jobs if i could but my hours at the tennis club are not consistent (like, it’s not as if i work every thursday or whatever, i just work whenever and i cant schedule around it) so i couldn’t plan my second job around it. and i know i could be firm and tell each place i can work xyz days but i hate doing thattttt. someone give me ten thousand canadian dollars please ! okay complaining over

[spicyicymeloncat]

I saw in your notes that you had to cancel your birthday so happy (possibly late) birthday!!

Haha thanks it was last year in September lol!!

And actually I did get to do birthday plans it was just kinda miserably bc the reason I was going to cancel was due to conflicts with my mum (and her making me feel like an awful person about it), but my other mum didn’t care and we went anyways and it was actually fine (the concerns my mum didn’t happen)

Also I was going through basically a platonic break up as well so crazy month lol

But thank you, and everyone who sent me flags, it was nice to get some positive interaction during all that!

[peaches-and-honey-and-the-moon]

Im working at an old food place I worked at three years ago, got let go from the stupid corporate job, and it feels like I can finally breath again. Like it feels like my coworkers actually respect me as a human being. And the venders I would see when I worked at the merch job have all told me they're glad I don't work at that company anymore when they see me at my food job lol. Our bread lady literally was like "thank fucking God you got out of there" which I found hilarious.

[no1ryomafan]

I be semi back into mega man and I’ve been thinking about why-despite it objectively being more known-it was harder to get people into compared to getter and I think it’s chalked up to the gameplay comes first over any story stuff. MM lore is still insane and a funny rabbit hole to fall into but its not what people think about when they think about this franchise past a basic plot summary, they think about a grueling platformer with freedom to do the stages in any order. But playing all these games, especially if platformers aren’t you thing, doesn’t give you all the lore context given this was a series made in the late 80s and continued up to the 2010s, so pieces of lore were kept to manuals or sometimes even interviews. Sure, a lot of people are use to outside sources for lore, but given how many games there are even if you could pretty much take away the first series out of it to make it seem clearer, you still have to deal with the fact the lord didn’t really pick up until the third platformer because X didn’t know if it wanted to be episodic like classic or actually be more serious- which among other reasons lead it to probably be the messiest series in terms of lore. And then there’s the fact you can’t even recommend someone to read a manga or watch a anime for lore retellings because all of the mangas basically are their own takes of games and anime? Lol despite some games having animated cutscenes the ones who got the anime privilege was the RPG games which everyone in the lore circles always ignore because it’s a separate timeline.

Basically: Mega Man really be “gameplay first, lore bits second” and given I meet a lot of people who don’t play many platformers/are good at them, + the factor there's multiple fucking series which makes it slightly confusing or overwhelming to a outsider, yeah me recommending niche mecha show that’s somewhat convoluted tends to be the better option.

[avvocarlo]

holy shit I hate the rules and politics within the community services industry