#1blr

[oscarcito]

⭐

(ask game) WHOPPEEEEE pt3

[lover-of-mine]

Anna! Hi! Hello!

I literally just joined tumblr today to be able to anon ask you. I think I should be the anxiety anon (aa is for sure in honor of Capt. Dad Bobby Nash and not in bad taste) because even typing this makes me feel way too seen. Does this count as human interaction? Guys, is it gay social anxiety if you only have inside thoughts because the idea of having outside thoughts makes you unwell? I'm not shaking--no, check--I am totally shaking rn, which is making it hard to type. But, I feel like I have reached critical mass on my Buddie thoughts and I will explode if I can't share them.

It is probably very rude to bust through the wall of your house like the Kool-Aid Man, so I want to say that I love your voice--your characterization and dialogue, particularly how you use humor in your fics is just *chef's kiss* for me. I have read them all but can't anon comment. I love your color theory and costume meta, too. Your takes are so measured and thoughtful and honestly just logical in a time where 9-1-1blr feels kinda sorta unmoored in reality. Fuck Twitter, your spy network tag is now my news feed because fandom reading comprehension and critical thinking scores have plummeted recently. Lou Who knows why?

Some things that are making me laugh/cry/cry-laugh rn:

The cockfighting ring call in Bobby Begins Again (2x16). Let's talk about closet space, bro: he-who-must-not-be-named canonically full-body flinched at literal cock coming at him. Somehow this is his gayest canon moment to me even though he has 2 canon full-on face assault man-on-man kisses.

The bridge call finale in Season 6, which I haven't watched in a minute, so I welcome fact-checking. I can't recall if it happens at the end of Love Is in the Air (6x17) as a cliff-hanger or if it is in Pay It Forward (6x18) proper, but right before the truck hits the bridge and triggers the collapse, Bobby is on the medical call on the bridge and he verbally instructs "K*nnard" to do something. The extra, presumably 1 of the old man retired firefighters they use to fill-out the 118 ranks, is wearing the "K*nnard" turnouts that nobody needed since 2x16's very accurate "Fairwell T*mmy. The 217's Loss is Our Gain" cake. So, how's that for invisible string debunker costume meta. As of 6x18: K*nnard was literally just an unused turnout coat on a hook in the costume dept. "Who cares?!?" is the 118 and 9-1-1's motto, fr. Like, nobody remembers gaf that he's a pilot, too, in an episode where Lucy flies off in the air ambulance, never to be seen again. Is "becoming a pilot" 9-1-1's way of telling your kid the dog "went to the farm" when you really had it put down while they were at school?

My change.org petition is for Buck and Eddie to have OS and RG's tattoos. I know makeup has been covering them up for years, but it has been bothering me so much since the ABC switch. It's like they're using the same tone of cover-up for RG and OS and it reads so yellow-orange that I consider it color theory outlier. Like, real talk, what do yellow-orange arms mean for the data, Anna? Tattoo-having people are known to get more tattoos. This is normal. RG and OS have so many more tattoos now than in Season 2 that Season 7 and 8 Buck and Eddie look like they have skin conditions that stop at their watch-straps and somehow in Season 8 RG is getting forehead-only orange foundation? Listen, I consider myself fandom-standard unhinged, not completely deranged, but like the full body Ken-doll spray tan on OS in Masks (8x05) has pushed me over the edge.

My Ted Talk is titled "Hey, ABC: Buddie = Fiscal Responsibility" because, wtf, just stop paying superfluous guest actors to be love interests and let the 2 mains shack up like God T*m M*near intended. (I lowkey think that smart cookie JLH is a girlboss genius who tied herself to KC, yeah yeah because of chemistry, Madney forever, of course, but also as job security when she said that Chimney was what she wanted for Maddie.) Seriously, let's reallocate the bullshit love interest slush fund money and bring the kid home. I hardcore head canon that Ravi saw Gerrard from the buffet line at the medal ceremony and just noped the fuck out of there indefinitely.

I'm just gonna leave this all here and back away because I've maxed out on all the human/social interaction accepted fandom love language of hyperbolic ranting that I can partake in before I turn into a full-blown thunderstorm chihuahua.

Can someone please Uber me a clown car home?

My love, hi. This was so fucking great to read ksoskaoakoakaoaa I'm literally on the floor laughing. Thank you for the compliments on the fics and metas. When someone says they like my characterization, I ascend to a better plane of existence. Honestly, the cock fight calls is really something else kspskapakoaa and they just didn't bother checking if they had written someone off before using the turnout because they needed more people there I guess.

The tattoos one had me howling tho, the cover-up of Ryan's hand tattoo this season has been AWFUL and the fact that they just wax Oliver all over to cover him in orange foundation drives me nuts, like please, just let them have the tattoos. (I was actually informed that they would need to license the tattoo from the artist for every use of it depending on the tattoos they decide to keep and that's probably why don't let them keep them, but if we are not letting them keep them, please color match better).

Honestly, they just need to get together already, please end this madness, it's been long enough, let Ryan be paid to make out with Oliver like he's been wanting all along kspskspakaokapa

Anyway, I'm obsessed with you, thank you for this one 🫶🫶

[theoncologistof911dispatch]

9-1-1blr: WE WANT BUCK TO GET HURT

9-1-1: *strikes him with lightning

9-1-1blr:

[the-martyrfication-of-the-matron]

I feel like I’ve been neglecting aphblr for 9-1-1blr recently and I’m sorry for shifting hyperfixation,

So I offer you:

EMS worker au:

Aphmau/Avra is a new firefighter/paramedic who ends up forming a severe trauma bond with the rest of her fire house after she saves their lives in a really, really bad situation.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

traditions | p. gasly

pairing: pierre gasly x reader word count: 1.1k words (thankfully) request: yep! by anon: “aaaa i love your works sm! can i request something child or pregnancy related with pierre? anything ngl i just have baby fever and the thought of pierre with kids makes me 🥰” prompt: making christmas treats ⎯ “stop eating all of the cookies!”  from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: pregnancy, bickering, language maybe. a/n: day 3! i know this is short but i’ll try to make all of these this length. REMINDER THAT MY REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, EVEN IF IT’S FOR THE SPECIAL. pls, i don’t want to close my askbox but if i keep getting i’ll have to turn it off.

my masterlist / 25 days of christmas masterlist

the holidays were right around the corner, and she liked having little rituals that she and pierre fulfilled every year. from decorating their shared apartment, to doing movie nights and gift-shopping. her favorite part was baking treats, an entire day of preparing different fillings for pies, dough for cookies, and pierre following his mother’s recipe for the perfect hot chocolate. 

they’d been preparing for this day for a week, buying everything they needed and even more stuff that she’d started craving recently. she was four months pregnant with their first little baby. after being together for five years, they felt ready to expand their family and try getting pregnant.

she was sure that pierre was going to be a great father, seeing him with his nieces and nephews always made her baby fever go through the roofs. he was so good with kids, always willing to play and not afraid to look ridiculous as he let the kids dress him up in crazy costumes for their games. he was so caring and gentle, but at the same time not afraid to get his hands dirty as he followed the kids’ orders to whatever plan they had in mind.

the moment they’d found out they were pregnant pierre was over the moon. already searching for ways to baby-proof their apartment, looking for clothes and a crib and things to decorate little gasly’s room. she’d looked at him with teary eyes, if this was how he reacted just to the news… she couldn’t imagine what he’d be like when the little one was actually born.

“is it ready?” she asked, watching pierre stirring the hot chocolate. she’d been craving it for so long, she could actually taste it in her mouth. 

“just one more minte, mon coeur,” he turned to her, watching her nibbling on one of the sugar cookies, he grinned, “stop eating all of the cookies,” he chuckled, making her roll her eyes.

“it’s not me, it’s you son,” she said. a teasing look on her face. they’d decided to wait until the birth to find out the gender, but she had a feeling it was going to be a boy. pierre hoped for a girl.

“well then, my little ladies can have as many as they want,” he said smugly, making his belief clear. he turned off the stove, and turned to her, placing a hand to her cheek, the other one finding her waist. she smiled at the closeness, ever since she found out about the pregnancy she found herself constantly craving physical contact. not just intimately, but a simple touch was enough. he leaned in, pecking the side of her lip, getting some of the leftover sugar from her lips. “you taste sweet, amour,” pierre hummed, enjoying the way she was basically melting under his touch.

“we should… finish making the pasties, before i get distracted,”

“you’ve been insatiable this month,” he noted, ever since she finished her first trimester and the nausea was gone, every single cell in her body called for him. 

“not my fault,” she chuckled, pressing a kiss to his cheek before reluctantly letting go of him. 

as they waited for the hot chocolate to cool down a little, they took out a tray with nutella-filled pastries out of the oven, waiting for those to cool down as well.

“i’ll go set up the living room,” pierre announced, kissing the side of her forehead, “don’t eat these yet, please, you’ll get burned,”

“yeah, i know,” she said, even though her mouth was watering just at the sight of the golden pastries. 

she took out two mugs from a cabinet, matching mr. and mrs. claus ones that she found at an antique store in paris a few days ago. she served the hot chocolate, watching the kitchen counter filled with all the different types of christmas desserts they’d made that day. she was proud of herself, that even though the pregnancy was taking a toll on her health, she still had the strength and spirits to keep the tradition going. 

her eyes found the golden pastries. she knew they were going to be good. they looked absolutely perfect. she had to have one. she could still hear pierre scrolling through netflix trying to find a movie, she could have one and get away with it. she picked the perfect one, blowing on it before giving it a small bite.

the sound that came out of her… it was one that she only heard herself emitting when she was with pierre. it surprised her so much that she covered her mouth with a hand, trying to contain a chuckle, praying that pierre hadn’t heard her.

her eyes went up as she saw pierre walking in, a confused look on his face. so he had heard hear. 

“i should’ve known,” he smirked, looking at the sweet dessert in her hand. “it’s that good?” he asked, approaching her. she nodded, laughing at the absurdity of it all. she lifted the chocolatey treat to his lips, waiting to see his reaction.

“it’s great, right?” she asked, pierre nodded, eyes widening a little. 

“we really knocked it out of the park this year,” 

“i think it’s our little lady tasting everything for the first time that makes it all feel better.”

“i agree. i think our baby boy is enjoying all of this,” she retorted.

“girl,” pierre said.

“boy.” she lifted an eyebrow.

“girl,” he took a step closer to her.

“boy.” she dared one look to the side, seeing an opportunity.

“girl,” he insisted, placing his hands on her waist, turning her so her back was against the counter. 

perfect, she thought.

“boy.” she dipped her finger in the opened nutella jar, smearing it all over his face. she chuckled, watching his shocked expression.

“you did not,” he said, moving to grab the jar, but she was faster, holding the clean side of his face in one hand and started placing small kisses, cleaning a little bit of it.

“no, no, i’m sorry,” she laughed, grabbing a towel and cleaning his face. “i’m sorry, i can have my karma later, now i just want to watch a movie and eat as much of these as i can,” she said, placing a hand on her stomach without noticing. he noticed, and decided to please her. 

“of course, amour, anything for my girls.” he said, turning around to grab their mugs, and walked out of the kitchen.

“it’s a boy!”

[formulaonedirection]

Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection The lovers, the dreamers and me 🌈

[mybrainproblems]

me: [looks at f/1 tag on tumblr out of curiosity]

me: good to know I still violently recoil from rps and apparently cockles is just a wild outlier

[urboymutual]

i want to be 9-1-1blr famous

[the-connection]

Date: 2018-11-10 12:45:00

SLMSUNG Foldable Launched Fayas Entertainments #samsung #samsungFoldable #FE SLMSUNGன் புதிய மடித்து ...

"Just Go!" Don't Stop.

            iHustleDaily.org

[oscarcito]

anonie i agree with you. im not posting the ask bc they honestly seem love the attention more than gaf

[illicitlimerence-writes]

my favorite place | d. ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x journalist!reader word count: 1.8k words. request: yes/no by an anon: "hi, can you do prompt 12 with daniel where reader is a journalism writer and she was so tired that she came home to the living room full of snacks, mcdonalds and disney+" i decided to use another prompt for this, i hope u don't mind! it's still the same plot, though prompt: low on money/homemade date from this prompt list. warnings: language. a/n: you get this one a bit early bc i'm a dumbass and posted it instead of scheduling it. idk if you've noticed from my previous fics but lately i've been loving the nickname 'lovie' and i intend to keep on using it lmao. PLEASE DON'T SEND REQUESTS FROM THE VALENTINE'S PROMPT LIST. i'll tag all the fics as illicitvalentine's so it's easier to keep track of them.

my masterlist / valentine's day masterlist

(plsss i'm so whipped for this man)

"(y/n), paul is out sick, can you cover for him?" your supervisor asks you.

"uhh, what do you need?" you stop typing on your computer, lifting your head to look at him.

"can you finish his article? the one about the politician's scandal?"

"politician? liam, i write about movies, this is way out of my league," you explain, opening the doc your coworker was working on. "this is going to take me hours to finish."

"sorry, kid, i don't have anyone else. tell you what, you focus on this one and i'll let someone else handle your assignments,”

“no! no, i don’t want someone else to finish mine, i’ll get everything done today,” you turn your back to him, spinning in your chair so you are facing your computer.

“that’s why you’re the best, thanks,” he says, leaving you alone to stress over the amount of work you had to do.

first thing, though, is texting your boyfriend to cancel your plans.

‘have to work late today. someone got sick and liam’s making me cover for him. i’m sorry, raincheck?’

since it was valentine's day, you and daniel had decided to stay home and cook dinner together to celebrate. but since you didn't know what time you'd be home, it was better to move it for another day.

you place your phone on the desk, sighing and rubbing the sides of your temples with your fingers. you take a deep breath, saving all your documents and opened tabs. you went to paul’s profile and opened his latest assignment, reading through his notes and the intro of his article, something about a politician denying human rights and people starting a riot in one of his rallies.

you feel sick to your stomach, this was exactly why you didn’t like writing this sort of topic, it was incredibly difficult to remain neutral when all you wanted to do was point out everything they did wrong.

you prefer to share with the world your love of films, of new opportunities and dreams that came true. of course, there was controversy as well, but you were allowed to give your opinion on those. not here, though.

your phone buzzes, and you look down, unlocking it and reading the text daniel wrote.

‘that sucks, darling:( don’t worry, let me know when you’re done and on your way home, x’

‘i will. love you.’

‘love you, so so much more, baby. don’t stress and overwork yourself too much, i need you.’

‘stop, i’m crying. ily.’

you don’t realize you’re smiling until you see your reflection on the black screen of your phone once you lock it. even just texting with dan helps you to clear your mind for a bit before diving back into a world you’re not too excited to know.

you type and type, getting lost in the sick and gruesome reality of the world you live in. you try your hardest to hurry up and finish it, but once you let yourself take a break and eat something, it’s already 4pm and everyone’s sending in their articles and research for approval. you sigh, munch on your food as you read over everything you had so far. it was pretty much done, you just needed to edit it and send it over to your supervisor. after that, you could finally finish your own projects.

it was a hard shift, from human rights to reviewing a film. but you were extremely happy once you finally had the thumbs up that the article was finished and you could go back to your own little bubble of movies and stories.

“hey, (y/n), some of us are heading to the bar down the street, you coming?” a sports journalist, brenda, asks you, smiling.

“thank you, but i’m not finished yet,” you hadn’t even realized that it was 6pm already, everyone was heading home now.

“what do you mean? you’ve been working nonstop all day, the sound of your keyboard is all everyone heard the whole day,” you smile, you loved the typewriter-style keyboard that daniel had gifted you when you started working for this magazine.

“i had to cover for paul,” you explain, “it was a hard piece for me, so it took most of my day. liam offered to hand my assignments to someone else but,” you shake your head.

“no one knows movies quite like you do,” she nods, agreeing with you. “well, good luck. i’ll see you tomorrow, happy valentine’s,” she smiles, waving her hand.

“happy valentine’s,” you whisper, sighing, you turn on your phone screen just so you could see your valentine.

a picture of daniel at the italian gp, covered from head to toe in champagne. he had this huge grin on his face, bright and euphoric as he held his trophy up in his hand.

just a few more hours and you’ll be in his arms, you comfort yourself with that thought to keep you going. you stretch, hearing your back cracking and get back to work, opening your previous tabs and documents, getting back into the groove quickly.

the time ticks by as you fill your doc with words that flow easily out of your mind once you're in your zone. throughout the course of the day you’d been working on this particular piece in the back of your mind, whenever you’d give yourself a little break, your head would travel to this article and build sentences on its own, so it was no surprise once you finally finished it.

you were proud, but you couldn’t give yourself too much time to celebrate because you still had one more to finish.

a little over an hour later, you finally finish. you send them to your higher-ups for approval and turn everything off once it is saved. you make your way to the underground parking lot, typing a message to daniel as you descend in the elevator.

‘just finished. on my way home. love you’

‘drive safely, love you xxxxx’

you smile, turning on your car and leaving the empty parking lot. there’s a headache forming in the back of your head, no doubt from staring at the screen for so many hours, and not getting enough food. your stomach protests at the thought, and you nearly get in line for the drive-through at your favorite fast food place, but your eyes are starting to feel heavy. you decide to be a responsible adult and go home instead.

sleep really starts to take over you as you park your car and grab your bag. you lean against the wall of the elevator as you go up to your floor, closing your eyes until you hear the bell and the doors opening. you step out, fishing your keys out of your bag and opening your front door.

the unmistakable smell of greasy food fills your nose, there’s light music playing from a speaker, the lights are dimmed and your favorite candle is lit, next to the tv. there’s a paused movie playing, showing the old disney logo. right in front, on the coffee table, bags of food from your favorite restaurants. from michelin-award-winning restaurants, to the classic mcdonald’s. as well as different candies, chips, all your favorites.

“dan?” you say, a lump that had been forming on your back throughout the day was disappearing as you dropped your things on the floor.

“darling!” he greets you, his head popping out of your shared bedroom. “how was your day?” he steps out, opening his arms and you immediately take the opportunity to slide your arms around his waist and pull him incredibly close to you.

“like shit. i just wanted to drop everything and come home,” you hide your face in his chest, relishing in the warmth of his arms around your shoulders, the weight of his chin on top of your head is comforting and familiar.

“i’m sorry,” he sighs, “i know this isn’t much but i thought this would make you feel better,” he says, referring to the things on your table.

“daniel, are you kidding? i love it, honestly.” you lift your head from his chest, standing on your tiptoes, and he leans down a bit, connecting your lips. “i love you, thank you. i was feeling horrible all day, but just seeing you makes everything better.”

“come here,” he untangled himself from you, holding your hand and leading you to the comfy sofa. he sat you down, throwing a blanket over your legs as you giggled. “first course, pick,” he smiled, you scanned the bags.

“mcdonald’s,” you pick, making grabby hands at him. he laughs and plops down next to you, “god, there really is nothing like the smell of fast food,”

“yeah, baby,” daniel throws an arm over your shoulder, and you lean your head against his shoulder, biting on a soft fry as he presses play.

“what movie are we watching?” you ask, pressing a kiss to daniel’s cheek.

“can you guess?” he turns to you, raising an eyebrow.

“oh, no,” you laughed, “not the rescuers-”

“the rescuers down under, baby!” he hollers, cupping a hand next to his mouth so even the neighbors can hear him.

“stop, we’ll get another noise complaint,” you threw a hand over his mouth, but he quickly grabbed it and started leaving soft kisses on your skin. “dan,”

“i come from a land down under!” he tries to sing, loudly, “where beer does flow and men chunder-”

“daniel!” you squealed, trying to shut him up between giggles.

“can’t you hear the thunder?” it’s even worse when he tries to hit the high notes. “you better run, you better take cover!” he smiles and you grab his face, thumbs dipping on his dimples, and bring his lips to yours. “hmm, you can shut me up like this all day,” he smiles, knowing his plan worked.

“idiot. i love you,” your heart is pounding in your chest.

“even when i sing these melodic tunes?” he asks, singing the last two words.

“especially then,” you nod, letting him help you up until you’re straddling his lap.

“happy valentine’s, my lovie,” he whispers, pressing soft kisses on your neck, cheeks.

“happy valentine’s, sunshine,” you say, a nickname you usually saved for special occasions. his eyes light up, you saw his smile widening, his eyes nearly disappearing behind the apples of his cheeks.

an hour later, you’re watching another film, now taking spoonfuls of the cookies and cream ice cream daniel bought as well. you’re watching a movie about a girl who has the ability to travel wherever she wants to.

“if you could be anywhere in the world, right now, where would you be?” you ask daniel, resting your chin on his chest, looking up at him.

“hmm… i don’t know,”

“come on, a place, any place, your favorite place,” you tease, poking his cheek with your finger.

“i don’t know, i guess… wherever you are. i don’t care where i am as long as i’m with you. you’re my favorite place.”

“whoa, you know, i was trying to be funny, you didn’t have to destroy me like that,” you giggle, hiding your face in his neck. “you’re my favorite place, too. you’re my home.”

[mybrainproblems]

No but like it feels like there is NOWHERE for me when it comes to being a motorsports fan. I love Tumblr for fandom but F/1blr is like my worst nightmare, motorsports websites comment sections are a trashfire, I'm allergic to Reddit & insta just has zero community and is also super sexist

I just want to talk about engineering and logistics and strategy and not feel like an alienated interloper