#nobody reading all this but it is out of my system thank u

[nereidprinc3ss]

early seasons spencer and bau reader undercover at a club and it’s just like. he is so flustered but also weirdly confident and do with this what you will

in which spencer reid and BAU fem!reader have to pose as a couple at a club. she's more than a little flirty. the conversation actually gets quite suggestive. he's cute when he gets flustered.

warnings/tags: discussions of sex, reader wears a tight dress and makeup and heels, discussions of blushing but r's skin color is not implied to be light, i just needed a reason to talk about sex flush LOL, if u don't visibly blush this will still read fine

a/n: I LOVE EARLY SEASONS SPENCER X FLIRTY READER OH MY GODDD thank you for this request angel from heaven I hope you all like this as much as I do teehee

The bass buzzes through the floor and vibrates your teeth. House music has never really been your thing. Neither have tight dresses and high heels while on the job—but you’re willing to objectify yourself just a little if it will lure yet another loser who likes to chop up young couples into the awaiting arms of the American correctional system. 

Or to the wrong end of Emily's Glock. Whatever comes first.  

You scan the club—it’s not your usual scene, and you can only imagine how Dr. Reid is faring. As far as you can tell this is essentially his nightmare. It’s sensory overload central even for you. 

Your eyes catch on him at the bar, tucked away from the writhing crowd. He’s standing near the end, one arm resting on the surface while the other hand is jammed in his pocket. He seems completely unaware of the several women circling closer and closer. The whole earnest and dorky but still handsome thing seems to work well for him. Or, it would, if he had any interest in utilizing it. He’s dressed a little sharper than usual—no doubt styled by Morgan and Prentiss. Hell, the earnest dorkiness and the well fitted dark suit is working for you if nobody else. 

Sometimes he just looks… edible. 

And self-discipline doesn't always come naturally to you. 

“Doctor,” you purr in greeting, grazing the forearm propped up on the bar with white-tipped nails as you insert yourself in front of him. His fingers twitch under your light touch. 

Spencer doesn’t even try to hide the way his eyes sink down your frame, sticking to every highlighted curve like you’re dripping honey. Or maybe he just doesn’t realize that you can see that’s what he’s doing. 

“Hi. You look nice.”

“Aw,” you smile, dulling the salacious edge to your voice, “you didn’t have to say that. Someone’s improvising.”

“I meant it. That dress looks nice on you,” he says, simply, and you hate his specific brand of charm because it’s not intentional. It’s not something he puts on. It comes out of nowhere and always knocks you on your ass when it hits—even in the smallest doses. His eyes narrow and he leans closer. You can feel the energy rippling around him like a force field as he examines you. “You’re wearing more makeup than you normally do.”

“Do you like it? Penelope ordered the wrong shade of blush and gave it to me. Supposedly it’s meant to make me look like I just had an orgasm. I don’t know if I believe it.”

Much to your disappointment, Spencer leans back, scanning the crowd for your target and speaking as if he’s only half-interested. 

“That’s not what you would look like. Sex flush deepens the color of your entire face and chest, not just your cheeks.”

Your brows knit as you contend with unwelcome butterflies. 

“Buy me a drink before you start telling me what I’ll look like after I orgasm.”

That catches his attention, and his suddenly wide eyes snap to you. If he had a drink, he’d be choking on it. 

“I wasn’t—it was a general you, I’d never—that would be inappropriate. It was. It was inappropriate. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

You lean with your back to the bar, elbows propped on black granite, and swing your hair over your shoulder. Spencer’s eyes dart back down to your décolletage and then up to the ceiling like he regrets being born. You smile wickedly. Much better. This is the way God intended for you to interact with Spencer Reid. 

“I’ll consider forgiving you. And I don’t blush. Not when I orgasm, not ever.”

Admittedly, you just want to milk the whole talking about you orgasming thing to see how pink you can make him. It’s not often you’re gifted with an opportunity to be so candid about your sexuality or flirt this unabashedly. But you are supposed to be posing as a couple. Maybe you’re just feeling extra in character. 

Instead of stumbling over his words some more, Spencer smiles with a degree of bemusement like he’s caught you in a white lie. 

His smile is so nice. His teeth are perfect, and his lips—

“Yes you do.”

Always so convinced he’s right, this one. 

It’s annoying. And kind of hot. 

“Uh, I promise you I do not.”

“Everyone blushes. It's a sympathetic nervous system activation response wherein blood rushes to your face. Your blood vessels dilate when you get flustered or anxious. Your face gets hot and your undertone changes.”

You raise your brows. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was challenging you. 

“Yeah? Wanna bet?”

“Actually, no,” he mutters, losing any bravado and casting his eyes downward subserviently. “You have a habit of proving me wrong.”

“That’s right,” you gloat, smiling wide. Someone bumps into you, and you turn around, highly unprofessional insult locked and loaded—but it’s just a drunk girl who apologizes and stumbles off. The encounter does, however, remind you that you’re supposed to be finding a killer. “Do you think this is the best positioning? He might not be able to find us way over here.”

“You think we should move?”

You look back at him and nod, holding your hand out. He looks at it uncertainly. You waggle your fingers and infuse your words with sugar. 

“Oh, come on. I don’t want to lose you. And we’re supposed to look like a couple, remember?”

Gingerly he accepts your hand. His is bigger than you’d have thought. Not nearly as freezing as your own perpetually are. It occurs to you as you grab his hand that his bone structure really is bigger than yours. He’s… tall. He is, at the end of the day, a real life adult man. His presence is palpable behind you and you enjoy the weight of his hand in yours as you tug him through the crowd, perhaps not taking the most direct route through the throng just so you can savor being able to touch him like this for a little longer. 

Miraculously you spot an empty booth and slide into it. It’s a deep alcove, shadowy and secluded at the back. That’s where you settle, against black vinyl, and where you wave at Spencer to join you. 

He lingers at the edge of the table, glancing around at the groups of dancing and drinking young adults. 

“I don’t know. Can you even see the dance floor from back there?”

“Part of it. But I’m sure he’ll be looking in the booths for couples. He’ll come to us.”

Spencer faces you again and sighs ruefully, a begrudging smirk playing at his lips as he slides into the booth and joins you against the back wall. His side is warm against yours. He smells nice. Clean. Almost herbal, like patchouli or vetiver. 

“What? You really hate sitting next to me that much?”

Spencer’s lips part wryly before he speaks, like he almost thought better of it but decided to anyway. 

“I think you just wanted a reason to get me alone and secluded so you can finally accost me.”

Your knees bump. You lean into it. 

“Accost you? That seems harsh,” you pout, leaning toward him clandestinely to undo his top button.

“I don’t see how. You are literally trying to take my clothing off as we speak.”

“I’m just increasing your sex appeal. It’ll be good, trust me. Maybe you’ll even end up taking one of those girls from the bar home. Or—back to the hotel, I should say.”

Spencer covers your fussy hands with his own sweetly, like he can sense the true jealousy simmering underneath the sarcasm, and places them in your lap. The touch lingers.

“Are you always like this?” He murmurs, voice lower than you can recall ever hearing it and twisted into the shape of a smile. 

“Only with you, Dr. Reid. Speaking of, how about you? Do you flirt with many other FBI agents on official business?”

“Just the one. She’s kind of a full-time job.”

“Shut up. I’m basically your babysitter. If anything, I should be paid extra for dealing with you.”

“Attempting to seduce your charge seems like a bad business model. There are definitely some ethical issues there.”

His hands still rest on yours. You lace your fingers with his and speak sweetly, meeting his eyes best you can in the dark. 

“I wasn’t aware I was seducing you. Do you feel seduced?”

He’s the first to look away after a few seconds pass—pulls your hands apart gently, politely arranging them back on your lap. 

“I think you’re incorrigible and a terrible influence. In all honesty, you terrify me and more often than not I walk away from our interactions a little confused.”

You clap a hand to your heart, the bare skin revealed by your low cut dress warm under your fingers. 

“Spencer… that kind of turned me on.”

He just looks at you for a moment, a hint of a smile on his pretty face, long enough to make you feel a bit nervous. 

Then he’s leaning forward, and unconsciously so are you, almost forgetting to breath when you’re practically pressed against him in this booth and he’s whispering so low and sweet into your ear. 

“He’s watching us. Right across the floor, next to the girl in the blue dress. White button up and a leather jacket.” His hand slides over yours, fingers skimming your collarbone in the process as he interlocks your grasp once more. “Keep your hand right here and lean closer. We need to maintain his interest.”

“I don’t think I can lean any closer,” you breathe, hoping it doesn’t register as nervous as it really is. You’re supposed to be the confident one who teases him. “But if you want me to sit on your lap, just ask. I won’t say no.”

He chuckles, too loud to be amorous. It’s clearly genuine. It sounds like the way his reddened cheeks always look. It almost does more for you than the bedroom voice.

“You… you are beyond help. I don’t think you could be appropriate if your life depended on it.”

Slowly you pull back so you can look into his eyes—much closer than you normally have an excuse to. They dart wildly over your face, partially obscured by the dark which cuts shadows deep into the dramatic hollows of his bone structure. He really is so pretty. 

You glance toward the man, who’s pretending not to watch you. When you focus your attention back on Spencer, sliding your hand up the curve of his jaw, you find yourself making a dangerous wish. You find yourself wishing that you didn’t have an audience. That this wasn’t all for show. That neither of you had earpieces in.

His pulse hammers under your little finger, and his lips part slightly as he doesn’t have the wherewithal to not glance at yours. He’s so unaware of how obvious he’s being. It’s cute. 

You run the tips of your fingers through the hair in front of his ear, the one sans bluetooth, pushing it back, before leaning in close once more to whisper. 

“Good thing we’re not going for appropriate. Actually—your hands could stand to wander a little more, Dr. Reid. Let me know if you need me to tell you where to put them.”

[pedriache]

you can write one with cubarsi where the reader is a famous singer and when she releases a song it's obvious that they're together and he's all shy

To be seen — Pau Cubarsí.

Pairing: Pau Cubarsí x Fem!Reader

Summary: In which you release an album so painfully obvious about Pau !

Word count: 590+

Disclaimer/s: Half smau half actually writing! reader is a singer and alll fluff !!

A/N: okay ik u said song (singular) but then i got bored and made graphics so..

Yourusername

Liked by paucubarsi, billieeilish, 802,291 others

yourusername My second album ‘To be seen’ is out now on all platforms <3 Thank you to my support system & all of you guys, I love and appreciate you more than you know!!

View all comments . . .

username1 hey! so you were sick for this.

username2 are we going to brush over the fact that these are all love songs and she is literally dating Pau Cubarsí?? (i don’t have a source i just know.)

⤷ username3 RUGHT? i’m going insane. why IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THISSS

username4 my pauxy/n agenda has been pushed to the frontlines. nobody can deny them now.

paucubarsi I’m so proud of you mi amor❤️

⤷ yourusername I love you 😭❤️

⤷ username3 hey!! ahahahahahah i’m so normal rn guys im so normal hey hi im sooo normal

⤷ hectorfort Kids down bad😂

⤷ yourusername can you leave lil boy.

⤷ hectorfort I’m older than you?

username5 mi. amor. mi. amor.

billieeilish The most beautiful voice!!😭

⤷ yourusername i cant breath i cant breath i cant

lamineyamal Pau’s blushing like a kid rn congrats ❤️

⤷ paucubarsi Get outtttttttttttt .

username6 hey so “show me how” is actually making me hit my head against a wall. delete it NOW.

⤷ yourusername uhm, you’re welcome..(?)💕

username7 IS THE SECOND PHOTO PAU AND Y/N?

⤷ username8 IT IS?? IT HAS TO BE??

—

Your front door unlocking had you scrambling off the couch. A giddy pep in your step as you scrambled to meet your boyfriend in the entryway. When you see him, Pau has a faint blush across his cheeks, probably left over from his friends teasing.

“Hello.” You hum as Pau wraps his arms around your waist, planting a soft kiss onto your lips.

“Hello.” He repeats the greeting when he pulls away. “You could’ve told me what your album was about.”

Right.

You wanted it to be a surprise. ‘To be seen’ was your one year anniversary gift to Pau, finding the only way you could explain the depth of your love was through your songwriting.

You shrug, “I told you it was a surprise!” You plant another kiss on his lips, “did you like it?”

“I loved it..” He hesitates before speaking again, “the fans also really liked it. Have you read the comments?” He’s blushing again when he brings it up.

“They are under my post about my album. So, yes, my dear, sweet boyfriend, I have.” Wriggling out of his grasp, you pat his cheek. “My parents are on the way home with takeout to celebrate! You are staying right?”

Pau rolls his eyes, “it’s our anniversary, of course I’m staying.” He trails after you into the living room, plopping down beside you on the couch and pulling you into his side. “I love you.”

Grinning up at him, you say a soft, “I love you,” back. Pau leans down for another kiss but you stop him, pressing your pointer finger to his lips and Pau’s eyebrows furrow in confusion. “First, tell me your favorite song.”

“Lovesong.” He grins, “it’s.. cute.”

“Cute?” You laugh, “I’ll take it.”

“So..?” Letting out a dramatic huff, you nod—mid doing so, his lips connect with yours once again. “Also, when did that picture of us even get taken?”

Sighing at the loss of contact, you rest your head on his shoulder. “A few months ago, when we visited my parent’s lake cabin. My sister took it.”

Pau’s cheeks puff up with the smile that took over his face. “Send it to me?” You nod, reaching for your phone.

Likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future pau posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @ar4ujos @sakashq @hrts4havertz @joaoflms @spidybaby @unx100to @n0vazsq

[imaslutforwritingshit]

Things Ethan Landry would text- (Fem Friend Reader) PART 3

Warnings- mentions of smut, knifeplay, sexting, fearplay, confessions to murder.

If you guys like this, I’ll make an extended version, where I write a story in Y/n’s pov that happens after this texting story:)

The Ballad Of Terror

Y/n: hey loser

Ethan: Loser? that’s new.

Y/n: but true

Ethan: no good night text, bunny?

Y/n: ugh stop calling me that. I promise I don’t jump that weird.

Ethan: in PE class you look like a rodent

Y/n: shut up

Y/n: I want something else first before you get your good night text

Ethan: let me guess. You need homework answers?

Y/n: I don’t get anything in science. I don’t even know what a molecule is.

Ethan: luckily I’m smart.

Y/n: luckily.

Ethan: click to view

Y/n: thank u <3

Ethan: np.

Ethan: hey, how are you and David doing together?

Y/n: why?

Ethan: I’m just curious

Y/n: maybe being curious isn’t always the right thing to be

Ethan: I’m your friend who wants you to be happy.

Y/n: I am happy

Ethan: with David?

Y/n: why are you asking that like david can’t make me happy?

Ethan: because I don’t think he could

Y/n: he does.

Ethan: oh, yeah?

Y/n: yes.

Ethan: as in, present tense?

Y/n omg yes

Y/n: why do you care so much?

Ethan: you broke up with him last night.

Y/n: how did you know that?

Y/n: Ethan??

Y/n: who told you

Ethan: no one told me.

Y/n: then why the fuck do you know?

Ethan: I watched you get that text. You cried over your bedside table.

Ethan: don’t leave me on read

Ethan: cmon

Y/n: how do you know

Ethan: I watched you through the window.

Y/n: you’re my friend

Y/n: this is scaring me

Ethan: Don’t be scared. Remember when you told me that you loved the real me?

Y/n: yes.

Ethan: this is the real me.

Y/n: a stalker?

Ethan: For you,

Ethan: Yes.

Y/n: if you were watching me, what was I wearing?

Ethan: That Ivy League shirt I bought for you in 2018.

Y/n: what pants, then ??

Ethan: oh, that’s the best part.

Y/n: please

Ethan: you weren’t wearing any

Ethan: you hiked your thighs to your chest

Ethan: you were wearing black panties

Y/n: you’re a fucking creep

Ethan: don’t be like that.

Y/n: how long has this been going on?

Ethan: How long have I been in love with you?

Ethan: or watching you sleep

Ethan: ?

Y/n: i should call the police. do you stalk other girls?

Ethan: you’re the only one for me

Ethan: nobody makes me feel the way you make me feel

Ethan: All those girls meant nothing to me. They couldn’t replace you.

Y/n: what girls?

Y/n: you’re a manwhore now?

Ethan: don’t be stupid. I didn’t fuck anyone

Ethan: I killed them

Y/n: im calling the police

Ethan: I disconnected the system from your number

Ethan: you can’t call anyone for help

Y/n: what do you want from me?

Ethan: Don’t you want to know?

Ethan: Why I did it?

Y/n: no

Ethan: I want to hurt you. Is that bad?

Ethan: it just turns me on so much

Ethan: to imagine you begging for me

Ethan: begging me not to slice you open

Ethan: fuck your brains out until your screaming my name

Ethan: i want to use you

Ethan: and you and I both know you would enjoy it

Y/n: you’re ghostface

Ethan: oh

Ethan: what gave it away ?

Y/n: you piece of shit.

Ethan: I don’t think you should insult me right now

Y/n: why? you gonna kill me??

Ethan: don’t tempt me.

Y/n: but apparently I already am. I’m basically asking for a knife to my throat, aren’t I?

Y/n: to watch your cock enter me as you choke me

Y/n: god, it would turn me on so much!!!

Ethan: I don’t take sarcasm too well

Ethan: if your asking for it, I’ll give it to you.

Y/n: im blocking you

Ethan: you can’t hide

Y/n: I’ll lock my doors. Get my parents to call the cops when they come back.

Ethan: your parents aren’t home?

Ethan: That changes things.

Y/n: I locked everything

Y/n: leave me alone

Ethan: why did you assume I was outside your house?

Y/n: please leave me alone

Ethan: let’s play a game of hide and seek, y/n.

Ethan: you run

Ethan: you hide

Ethan: and we’ll see if I can catch you.

Ethan: and if I do…

Ethan: god, I love making you my victim.

Y/n: Ethan please

Ethan: 3

Ethan: 2

Ethan: 1

Ethan: time to run, bunny.

🩷

[gallawitchxx]

hi beeee!! i hope you're doing okay 💖💖💖

ooohohohoho okay for the kiss thingy: god knows why cuz it sounds potentially very painful but i feel so compelled to request 28 🙏

sweet deanna! i'm hanging in, thanks love! 💖 so you & @lingy910y both requested #28 & i want to fill both of your prompts. but because you were (rightfully) afraid of pain, i gave you one that's a bit strange, but has a promisingly happy ending? you can be the judge! xx

- - - - -

send me a number & i'll write you a smoocheroo 😚

- - - - -

#28: ...as a lie ps. this is inspired by this post about dealer!mickey & insomniac!ian, who have now rotted my brain.

Ian hasn’t slept in days.

It’s happened before—endless energy is one of his tried-and-true symptoms of mania—but this isn’t that. He’s taking his meds, his skin isn’t crawling and his mind is fairly quiet. Quiet enough to frustrate him as he tosses and turns and wonders what the fuck’s going on.

His schedule has been all over the place lately; his normal routine lost to the endless cycles of employment and Gallagher family responsibilities. He’d been hoping to add school to the mix this semester so that he could have other, less hectic options than a rig-riding EMT, but he’d pushed it off. A pity, now that all-nighters are apparently his thing.

Night two, he googles a few things, which is a huge mistake. Who can fall asleep after reading about how even just twenty-four hours without sleep can begin to derail your bodily systems? Sleep deprivation can cause or worsen conditions like Type 2 diabetes, High blood pressure, Stroke, Heart attack—his pulse leaps as his phone clatters to the ground.

Night three, he takes to the streets, running around the Southside until his lungs burn and his knees wobble. As he passes the clinic that gave his seventeen-year-old self a lifetime prescription for antipsychotics, he knows that if this lasts much longer, he should call his doctor. Tell them his nighttime meds aren’t putting him to sleep anymore. Nip this insomnia thing in the bud before it can overthrow the delicate balance he’s worked so hard to maintain.

Night four, desperate and a bit delusion, he pulls up a number he hasn’t used in years, saved under a contact labeled, DO NOT TEXT.

He breaks his own rule: Hey. Still making house calls?

The response is almost immediate: the fuck u care for?

Ian rolls his bloodshot eyes, typing: It’s an emergency.

Three little dots herald a response that makes him laugh: a weed emergency?

He stays strong: Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t need it.

The next text makes his chest clench: u ok?

He decides to keep it vague—I can’t sleep, but it’s not what you think.—and hopes he doesn’t have to explain further and is relieved to read: u want ur usual?

Another clench: Indica

Two texts arrive in rapid succession: what else do u want? can i give u head while u smoke or no?

There it is: the reason Ian doesn’t use this number anymore.

Maybe in another life it would be a blessing to have a weed dealer to lovers arc with your childhood crush, but in this one, it was a curse. A curse that lasted almost a whole year, bringing with it an endless bouquet of blissful fucks and free weed, and a million moments of tenderness Ian knew nobody else was getting out of the guy. A curse that eventually came to collect payment in the form of bloodied knuckles, broken hearts and ego wounds. A curse that still clings to Ian’s psyche, filling his dreams with gentle, tattooed fingers and bright blue eyes and a sweet and savory scent that can only be described as Mickey.

Mickey, now DO NOT TEXT.

On second thought, maybe he should never sleep again.

The knock at the door makes him hard—a Pavlovian response that irks him more than the three sleepless nights he’s suffered so far. Three raps, one right after the other. The last one no more than a brush of his hand.

Ian adjusts himself and answers the door.

Fuck, one look at that smug asshole and he’s immediately right back in it. Lust and like and maybe even a little bit of reckless fucking love fill his body, rising to the surface like sweet cream. A layer of fat on the roof of one’s mouth; a treat to lick later, a reminder that they didn’t end things because they weren’t insanely hot for one another and potentially soulmates. They were just idiots. Stubborn, petty dicks.

Oh Pride, the great slayer of men.

Jesus, he needs to sleep.

“First one’s on the house,” Mickey says as he crosses the threshold, a joint held tightly between C and K.

Hours slip by. They laugh, they smoke. It feels like old times. Ian’s body is loose in a way it hasn’t been in years. It feels good. Like maybe-he-could-sleep-tonight good. And as he melts further into the couch, he starts to get a little horny too. Because Mickey’s yapping on and on about some asshole that frequents the bar he works at, and Ian’s listening, he swears he’s listening, but he’s also staring at Mickey’s mouth like he wants to take Mickey up on that text message and shut him the fuck up with his dick.

Like he wants to taste the stale smoke of his tongue.

Wants him to stay the night.

Forever, maybe.

Mickey finishes his story. His eyes go soft and he drums his fingers against his knee. “Should get outta your hair, Gallagher,” he says. “Letcha sleep.”

That’s the last thing Ian wants.

“Not tired,” he fibs.

Mickey cocks an eyebrow. “You’re not? ’S been days, man. This shit’s gotta be hittin’ ya by now.”

It’s true. It has been days and this shit is hitting him. Or maybe he’s having a sleep-deprivation-induced stroke. He just knows Mickey can’t go.

“Can’t go to sleep without a goodnight kiss.”

Mickey’s already leaning in when he asks, “Then you promise you’ll hit the hay?”

Ian nods as Mickey presses a kiss to his lying lips.

[moriitis]

Hi Moriitis! It's me again.

The year is almost over, ahhh, I wish you all the best always.

I have a question hahah, things that come out of nowhere.

What do you think of a yandere Toby? I'm curious.

I recently read a fic on AO3 called "Unrequited" (I highly recommend it) I like that version of Toby. And I immediately wondered... What would be your interpretation of a Yandere Tobias?

I hope you had a great Christmas and that this new year is full of success for you.

And I'm sorry if I bothered you with another question haha, I had to get it out of my system and you're my favorite writer right now 🦭

(I love your cosplays and your bots, by the way, thanks for the content always and take care!)

Let's get one thing clear, he's such a slut for you. LOL. Bro has pictures of you on his wall, bro willingly jacks off to you in his car while he watches you work across the street, bro has to be apart of your life. Landlord increasing your bills? He's dead. Highschool boyfriend? Dead. Your mom? Yeah, fuck her, she's dead. And he'll find it hilarious too, like wtf mom?! Taking your attention away from him?! How dare you, bitch! Yeah, those are probably the words he's yelling as he butchers mommy dearest to death.

He'll big the biggest of cunts. A fucking asshole who is brainwashed into thinking that is he perfecting your little, fucked life when really he's doing the opposite. He'll swoop in and announce that he'll make everything better, that he could be your medication and cure to all this madness. And you know what makes it worse? It fucking works! You are so desperate and Toby is so willing to make you happy that you flock to him over every, single fucking problem. He could.. laugh at how pathetic it is. How blind you are?! Knowing that what fuels him more is the desire, that he wants you so much that nobody can have you. Nobody.

So, he'll kill you, because you are his and his alone and he is not going to share, oh no. And yes. He will descent further into madness and cry every night, but don't worry - he cut a lock of your hair before he buried that pretty little body of yours.

If you've ever watched Saltburn and seen that bit where that guy literally humps that other guys grave. Yeah, no more detail needed. Toby.

Your welcome.

On a real note, if you ever seen my Stalker!Toby writings or even glanced over at BloodLust; it is all very much Yandere Toby in a sense! I like mentally unstable men.

and pls pls always spam my asks i could talk about this autistic man forever.

love u. mwah.

also happy new year!

and thank u so much!

[little-diable]

When one heart breaks the other follows - Tommy Shelby

I had this idea for a while, and I am super happy with the way this turned out. A massive thank you to @zablife for writing the letters for this fic, thank you for adding your personal touch to this story. I adore you. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tommy has been at war for months, the only thing the reader can cling to are the letters he kept writing. Until the day where he no longer writes to her, where she no longer knows if he's alive or not. All until one last letter finds its way to her.

Warnings: 18+, descriptions of smut, angst, crying and lots of pain, but a happy ending, mentions of the war

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (3k words)

She could still remember how he felt, the soft hands dancing up her naked side in the early morning hours when nobody’s awake, not even the ones without a home roaming the streets. She could still remember how he tasted, the soft taste of tea sticking to his lips, a constant reminder of the calm hours shared in the home they were once supposed to raise their kids in together. She still could still remember how his voice sounded, soft like a new instrument that hasn’t been played for long, clear like a poet perfectly able to express their longings. 

Mere fractions of Tommy Shelby (y/n) had to cling to now that he was no longer at home, not even in their country. 

He had left for war months ago, and yet sometimes it felt as if he was only a few rooms down from their shared bedroom. As if they had tumbled into a fight, needing to chase the distance before they’d spiral into something they couldn’t pull away from. Sometimes it felt as if he’d stumble into their home any moment now, drunk from the endless hours he had spent with his brothers, enjoying a carefree life that wouldn’t leave them traumatised. Nothing but wishful thinking of hers. 

She missed him, god, her heart was aching for the man she had once promised her life to. There was no doubt that she’d wait for him, the thought of turning towards other men that hadn’t been sent to war left her insides churning, there was no doubt that she loved Tommy like she had loved him all those months ago when he had been around. And yet she envied the women whose men were still around. She envied the lives they were able to share, the love they felt with every rising of the sun. 

Tommy hadn’t promised her much, he hadn’t promised that he’d make it out without wounds and scars gracing his skin, but he had promised to somehow keep in touch. She clung to the address he had clumsily scribbled down moments before passing their threshold, the only way to reach him. Panic would rise in her system whenever she thought about losing the one piece of paper she had copied numerous times, the only thing she could cling to, the only thing she could remember Tommy actually touching. 

At first she had received a handful of letters from him, letters she’d reread every single night, while planning her own letters she’d write to him. Her fingers would trace Tommy‘s words, the way he expressed his love and longing for her; a dull ache would stretch through her whenever she read the letters, a pain so bittersweet she couldn’t stop herself from torturing herself. 

It had turned into some kind of routine for her, she’d shrug out of her dress, undo her hair and wear one of Tommy’s old dress shirts - breaking laws a woman like her could pay no mind to. Trembling hands would open the wooden box she used to store his letters in, and for a few seconds she’d stare at the letters, starting with the one she knew by heart:

“Dear Y/n, 

I just received your letter and was very pleased to have the distraction. I had reconciled myself to reading the same letters over and over again, not knowing if the post would find us. We’re not in the same place, in fact we don’t stay anywhere very long. We’ve been travelling through terrible weather for four days and nights and we’re up to our knees in mud and water. Despite, Arthur, John and I are well and our boots have not worn as quickly as Aunt Polly feared. 

I hope this finds you in good health and you have all that you need in light of the shortages. I’ve been promoted to Sergeant so I’ll be sending more money soon. If you have need of anything, I want you to be able to get it without worry. 

At night as I lie awake, I remember you and me as we were before I went away, happy and carefree. I would fight this war in any condition, without complaint, if that is how you could remain. You’re constantly in my thoughts and dreams, the only person I long to see in the world. When I return, we’ll take the horses through the fields and down to the stream as we used to, riding until sunset. That is my promise to you. Stay strong, my darling, as I know you are. All my love, Tommy”

Tears would run down her cheeks, at first her body had been overwhelmed by the waves of sadness clashing through her, never had she experienced a pain so strong, but somehow it got easier with time. Somehow she had adjusted to the sensation that left her breathless, making her feel something besides the dull ache that stuck around like a friend that would never leave one's side. And yet, (y/n) wouldn’t be able to thumb through the letters she had collected over the months, laughing at the shared memories he kept mentioning, how he expressed his love and longing.

Somehow she had managed to find beauty in the pain, in the darkness she had been dragged into from the moment Tommy had been called to war. She could still remember the last day they spent together, cherishing the calm moments with her ear pressed against his naked chest, listening to the beat of his heart, roaring in his chest as if the strong muscle could already feel the pain coming upon the two lovers. 

“I love you, don’t ever forget that.” Tommy had murmured as he had moved with her close, allowing one another to relish in the lust thumping through their veins, needing to feel their shared high for one last time. Her moans had echoed through their bedroom, nails scratching at his shoulders, leaving marks he’d be able to trace even days after leaving Birmingham. 

The moment hadn’t been rushed, it had been filled with emotions one could only envy, not able to feel something this raw and yet so simple. He had fucked her with his eyes not straying from her features once, praying that he’d forever remember her lust-drunken appearance. One he’d take to grave if he had to. 

Their love hadn’t been perfect, but it had been theirs, only theirs to feel, to share, to cherish. She wouldn’t trade her time with Tommy, the man she had known since she had been a child, for the world, all (y/n) could do was pray that he’d find his way back to her, soon. 

Over time (y/n) couldn’t help but notice how Tommy’s letter grew shorter, no longer filled with the emotions she shared with him, even with the growing distance between them. No longer did he talk about his days, the men and women he met whenever they rested. She could tell that he was growing distant, full of hatred for the countries forcing simple men like him to fight for a war that seemed endless. 

“Dear Y/n, I’m sorry it’s been so long, but present conditions do not offer much chance of writing any letters. We are in a place now where the night stretches on endlessly and it seems no matter how long or what you have been through they are never done with you.

I see the frustration of it building within Arthur most. He has fits of anger, followed by long silences, as though he no longer cares if a bullet finds him. There are days I feel it as well, the pull of the inevitable and I wonder if I will ever see you again. I should write something more courageous for you, but as you’re the only person I want, you’re the only one I could tell. All my love, Tommy”

Even though (y/n) could tell that he was no longer the same Tommy that had left their shared home all those months ago, (y/n) couldn’t help but await his return back home. She needed him, every part of the man she’d dream of late at night, of a better life without the war keeping them apart. It could be so simple, so raw, and someday they’d get to share this life – together. 

It was afternoon by the time (y/n) found her way outside, naked feet patting along the warm soil of their garden. Dark clouds were gracing the sky, carrying rain that would eventually clash down to earth like the tears she had cried just hours ago, desperate for relief. Exhaustion clung to her, a tiredness she was all too familiar by now, a steady companion in those times where she felt lonely, so awfully lonely. 

Her feet carried her inside, body trembling as she came in contact with the cold flooring of their house. The heat hadn’t managed to crawl inside just yet, lingering outside her door like a ghost of old times, not daring to enter without her invitation. Another day would pass where she wouldn’t speak to anybody, fostering her tea while reading the books she knew like the back of her hand, she was torturing herself, needing to feel anything besides the gaping hole inside her chest. 

The sound of impatient knocking ripped her out of her thoughts, head snapping towards the door. Slowly she moved closer, urged on by the knocking that grew louder with every passing second. (Y/n) ripped open the door, staring at the postman who pushed a letter into her outstretched hand and left before she could speak up. With her eyes wandering down to the letter, taking in the unfamiliar handwriting, she felt her heart picking up its beat.

It had been five weeks and three days since Tommy had last written, forcing her to count down the days till another message would find her. She had expected a short update from him, anything about his whereabouts, perhaps a sentence or two about the way he was missing her and their home. But now she wasn’t staring at something written by him, so, why would an unfamiliar person scribble down her address? 

For a second she debated putting the letter down, not wanting to read it in case it was just a message from an old friend she couldn’t remember, unable to deal with the disappointment that would fill her system. And yet she was urged on by her curiosity, wondering what had been written down for her to read. She moved back outside, sitting down on the wooden bench Tommy had built for her years ago, allowing her to take in the field right outside their small house. 

A shaky breath left her aching lungs as she ripped open the letter, smiling as she realised that it was indeed a letter written by Tommy. 

“Dear Y/n,

I don’t know how to begin this letter because it’s unlike any of the others I’ve written before. I will not post it, but carry it in the pocket over my heart. John knows to deliver it to you if something should happen to me and if you are reading it now, I trust he has carried out his duty faithfully.” Her heart was racing, it took (y/n) a few seconds to notice the tears welling up in her eyes, forcing her to blink in hopes of clearing her vision. Has he been hurt? No longer able to write letters with wounds too big? 

“I would like you to know my family will always be yours. They will look after you accordingly, not only because I’ve asked them, but because they have always considered you one of their own. From the day I met you, I made no secret of my intention to become worthy of you.” Only now did the realisation slowly settle in. He had been hurt, though not in the way she had thought, no, no longer was he breathing, no longer was he sharing this life with her. Another soul amongst the endless number of fallen. A pained sob wrecked through (y/n), hands trembling viciously. 

“Do you remember when we were eight and I spent every last coin I had buying you a coconut? You laughed until your sides ached asking why I would do such a thing, but it was because I felt you deserved it. I continually strived to be the kind of man you could be proud to call your husband. Although I confess I’m not certain how you would view my actions in the name of duty and country, as they have often been beyond my own comprehension.” She could remember it all, every moment she had spent with Tommy by her side, every conversation, every touch, forever ingrained in her mind. 

How could it be? How could one be ripped from this life just like this? Had he been shot, laying on the cold soil with his mind drifting off to her for one last time? One question after another flashed through her thoughts, desperately trying to distract her from the painful truth. 

“In my darkest days, I bridged the long hours thinking of your unwavering devotion. Life would have been empty and utterly meaningless here had it not been for your letters. How fortunate I am to have known a love like yours. I would give anything to have known it longer, my darling. I realise this letter must seem a poor apology for breaking my promise to return to you. Know that my last thoughts were of you and the life we might have built together. Remember that I love you, Tommy”

—--

The September sun warmed her features as (y/n) was sitting in the middle of the field around their – her home. She was sitting on a woollen blanket, eyes shut to take in the heat that would soon leave Small Heath. Autumn was about to settle in, one with the colder days, the leaves that would fall and the rain that would clash down on her part of the land.

It had been weeks since (y/n) had received the letter telling her of Tommy’s passing, a letter she had added to the others, and yet she couldn’t reread it, couldn’t bear the pain shooting through her weak body. She wasn’t the same without Tommy near, wasn’t the same she had been before the message had reached her. 

Not once had she tried to get in touch with the family she had once loved oh so much, they  reminded her too much of him, the memory of Tommy was still too fresh in her mind, unable to forget about the features she’d see whenever she closed her eyes. And yet it somehow got easier with every passing day, even though (y/n) knew that she’d never be able to live as she had been able to all those weeks ago. 

What was a woman full of love without a husband alive to share the emotions she felt deep inside? 

Her fingers absentmindedly stroked along the lush grass, deeply inhaling the warm air whenever her brain reminded her to keep on breathing. The days passing by followed the same pattern, a routine she cherished, a routine she needed to keep on living without breaking every moment she wandered through her empty house. 

“Love?” For a second (y/n) froze, shaking her head as a chuckle left her, she was going insane, hearing the voice of the lover that no longer wandered the same earth as she did. (Y/n) found comfort in the conversations she’d share with his ghost, speaking to the man she could have married, building a life together with their family close. “(Y/n)!” 

Her eyes shot open, body forced to turn towards her home. The sun was blending her, and yet she could perfectly make out an all too familiar figure. With her breath hitched in her chest, (y/n) scrambled to her feet, stumbling over her dress as she tried to steady herself. 

“You’re dead, this isn’t possible. Oh god, I’m going insane.” The heels of her hands found her eyes, adding pressure to her aching lids in hopes of clearing her vision. The sound of his raspy chuckles filled the afternoon, forcing her once again to take in his frame. 

“As much as I can tell, I’m very much alive, love.” And with a sob rumbling through her, (y/n) stumbled into his arms. He smelled of mud, dirt and sweat, and yet (y/n) was certain that she had never taken in a scent this familiar, finding love in the way he held her close. She tightened his grip on him, needing to feel every part of him, trying to accept that her fiancé was alive and breathing. “God, I missed you, (y/n).”

“How is this possible, Tommy? I got the letter, I,” another sob interrupted her, feeling him growing tense. It took Tommy a moment to reply, hand finding her cheek to take in her features, eyes wandering over the tear traces on her skin.

“Which letter?” His voice was low, lower than she had remembered. No longer was he a young man filled with excitement and curiosity about the chances this life may offer him. No longer was he a young man clinging to the adventures he shared with his brothers and cousins. No, he was a man that had seen more dead bodies than the eye could count. He was a man graced by the anger those in positions of power had unleashed on the continent. 

“Your letter, the one John should send to me, should you die. It reached me in July. I – I thought you had fallen, no longer alive.” One tear after another rolled down her cheek, dripping onto his warm hand. And with a pained expression tugging on his features, Tommy pulled her back in, chin placed on the top of her head. 

“My uniform had been changed as I moved my rank, another soldier must have taken on my jacket, with the letter still in it. He must have thought that I died. I am so sorry, love, if only I had known.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead, not daring to let go as they cherished one another’s closeness. 

“Promise you’ll stay, don’t ever leave me again, Tommy. I won’t survive this again.”

It would take her weeks to fully realise that Tommy was back home, alive and breathing. She wouldn’t let him go, not now, not ever, because when one heart breaks, the other follows.

[stupidsalmonn]

Here's my legitimate Thelma the Unicorn oc Sherbet the Pegasus <3

Brief lore .. beware if u click read more you will be autism BLASTED !!!

feel free to send hcs and stuff abt her if ur interested.,.. i loove people looking at my fellas an going WOAH!! what if they did this and that sometimes :P

Sherbet works under Vic Diamond, obviously. This story line [??] is where unicorns and pegasi and whatever DID exist at some point and their descendants are somewhat rare or just don't come into America that often. Kinda seen as like a myth or good fortune/luck or whatever?? Due to the fact they aren't full fledged of their species, they're disabled! Sherbet specifically can't fly, her wings are too weak and she's a bit too big for that anyway. If an actual unicorn were to be in this scenario, they wouldn't have any magic. Just a simple horn :] ANYWAY!!!!! Sherbet uses She/They/He and is extremely androgynous & wide open about it!! Multiple songs about their experience with gender and being themselves Very kid-core pastel soft colours they LOVE sweets and cannot get enough of them. They're like. kinda besties with Vic?? Like they're on a nickname basis and they hang out after work. Vicky and Sherbie :3 She has her own penthouse, prancing distance away from Vic's, and it's very, very pink. Like gratingly pink. Like your retinas would burn if you stepped foot onto their lawn it's that bad. Also she loves baking for people :3 During stage performances they put her in a harness with a wire that kinda makes it look like she's flying. Nobody knows it's fake but who cares it's a pretty pony singing songs about gay romance and rainbows!! Said harness is gold and it has a little VD emblem on the sides with rhinestones and whatever bedazzling it. Kinda looks like a carousel ride harness??

During her Circus Word Tour where she debuted her Circus World album [obviously], vic took advantage of that carousel feel and they made like a weird rotating platform contraption where they had Sherbet in the harness and two poles, from the top and bottom, held them in place while they sung!! The contraption was on a rotation system and could very slowly go up and down so it looked like she was an actual carousel horse :D

Circus World pushed Sherbet out into the spotlight much quicker than she actually expected and got completely bombarded with stuff before she was actually ready to handle it, but she was grateful nonetheless! Of course we simply CANNOT forget the Paradise Fruit Sherbet Perfume line which Vic so gracefully crafted.. smells like tropical punch and vanilla. very fruit smell. yim yum It's a silvery blue kinda liquid colour with glitter in it, matching her mane's natural colour :3

OKAY I DONE RAMBLING THANK U FOR READING THIS ALL ILU /PLATONIC

[definitelynotshouting]

grian pains me why is he such an angst child (rhetorical but needed to be said nonetheless)

i do have a query, punctuation ranking list mayhaps? em dashes?/lh

im glad our love for the fic and universe helps motivate you, remember to take care of yourself!! us avid readers will wait

He rlly is squeaky-toy coded isnt he [said as i am gripping him and throwing him repeatedly against the wall for my own amusement]

AKSNWKSNSM CALLED OUT MERCILESSLY FOR MY LOVE OF EM DASHES.... THIS IS SUCH A CRUEL WORLD /SILLY

Unfortunately youve activated my editorial trap card bc while i dont know if i can rank punctuation since they all have such specific uses that make them each invaluable i do have an internal system of prioritization for how and when i use them that sorta.. denotes how well they might make a sentence POP

For example: em dashes, semicolons, periods, and commas are my staples. My general rules of use for em dashes and semicolons specifically is that i TRY not to use them in the same sentence more than once or twice per chapter/story, and i try to alternate between them where i can to keep things varied and interesting, depending on whats being written. Both are very good for asides and building on top of the previous sentence!!! Semicolons, however, get SPICY if used for a list >:] and that can be REALLY useful for me if i want to hit hard and fast with a series of particular images!!!

Colons are smth i try to use more sparingly and deliberately, but are REALLY fun bc almost every time i use them its like code for my brain to go "oh so we're going absolutely batshit ham on this next line, got it" skdbwjdkwkdkd. Sometimes that looks like me going crazy with imagery, and sometimes thats just me dropping something i find structurally simple yet achingly poignant. Either way its meant to be a gut punch >:]

Ellipses are something i generally don't use much outside of dialogue with some exceptions (listen if it fits the narration then it fits) but my gods they are SO MUCH FUN within dialogue..... guys when they trail off like irl people do all the time...... tbh the em dash and ellipsis are my bestest friends when it comes to dialogue bc i am so damn obsessed with writing people who sound like people. Thank u tma for upgrading my dialogue significantly<3 podcast fandoms are REALLY good for that to the surprise of absolutely nobody

Exclamation and question marks are very fun to put a lil flavour into your prose too but i also try to use them sparingly outside of dialogue-- i personally feel that if used too much in the prose itself it can read as either a bit childish or like its very blatantly trying to lead you around by the nose. But my gods starting off a story with a question??? That shit ROCKS i love doing it and reading it, its a banger every time. By and large i think my favorite opener to a story ive written so far has to be "What is the definition of a haunting?" from my dsmp fic when the night cries. Good shit your honor good shit

Anyway yeah i dont have much of a tierlist per se but those are my general thoughts on how i personally use punctuation :]

[kirby-the-gorb]

reply roundup!

I guess vaguely once a month is just how these things work now, I do try to read everyone's tags and replies and stuff but a lot of them I just don't really have anything to reply with sorry! as always I appreciate the supportive words and well wishes and stuff <3

I also love the trifurcation of responses to [go to bed]: one group of people is like "yeah u right I sleep now thanks", one is like "sorry but I can't", and one is just like "no! I refuse!!!" lol

I did get two different "posts that have 10k to me" tags though, on [one] that actually passed 10k and [another] that is still barely triple digits and will probably stay there XD

anyway [chess kirb] was on the radar which is neat

also my birthday is this weekend :)

oh yeah and reminder that I also have a craft blog @sleepy-princess-craftery

on [the last roundup] @sacrasm said: oh the clonk'd is just my queued post tag! thr other one is self explanatory he is little he is pink and i affectionately call things freak sometimes (in combination with other words)

ohhhh that makes sense lol it was the clonk'd that I was baffled by thank you for explaining -u-

on [drowsy] @ceylonsilvergirl said: being laid up sick or injured is terrible, but I think we also need to acknowledge that it’s also boring as hell. can’t do anything fun. boring boring boring

it is!!! it's so boring!!! especially since I'm already baseline sick all the time so I have less options to start with, so to do even less than that is literally nothing!

anonymous asked: Gwah being sick sucks. I wish immune system upon you!

thank you! (I think I actually need less immune system? on account of the immune disorder. but either way I do not have an active infection anymore 👍)

on [tumble] @chefwhatnot said: get chucked idiot

where's that post like "'get (blank)ed idiot' is the funniest joke" cuz they're right

on [mask] @macro-microcosm said: glad you're feeling better! i agree that we should all still be masking up, it bothers me soooo much to see that so many people have stopped

like honestly, scientifically speaking it is way more effective and more accessible than just leaning on vaccines, and it protects people from all kinds of stuff not just covid! but nobody wants to wear masks and even people who think they're being cautious just want to lean on vaccine requirements, which is doubly inaccessible for me personally and probably millions of other people :( stresses me out too.

anonymous asked: Magicking you up some new containers

thanks! they didn't have what I wanted at target but we got some usable stuff from daiso, so at least it's not all still shoved in a ziploc bag.

@thewizardgnome asked: But what if I say bye

I mean yeah you can do that too if you want I guess lol

on [paper] @breathelifeintothatsoul said: Cool! I've always wanted to try and make my own (recycled) paper one time

it's fun! there's a lot of extra steps you can add in if you want to, but the absolute basics of it is just dump a bunch of paper strips into a bin, fill it with water, wait until it breaks up enough for your liking, then dunk some kind of stiff screen into it (horizontally) so you can pull out even layers of pulp to dry somewhere.

on [paper] @hermitfox said: oooo making your own paper is do much fun, I have fond memories from kindergarten doing that. ... actually what stops me from doing that as an adult. I should make paper again

do recommend, making things is fun and also good for you :) also the paper pulp is very Texture (affectionate) (to me) (I'm sure to others it can be very Texture (derogatory) but I like it)

on [yarn] @ceylonsilvergirl said: I am very envy of people who can follow a pattern, I can’t do that. I can do a friend being like “Oh this next one is two one two one’’, i can’t translate abbreviations into an idea in my mind. give me a diagram instead

I'm the opposite tbh, I find the abbreviations really easy to follow but looking at a diagram for knitting and crochet just turns into like, visual noise if it's more complex than like, a single fan stitch or whatever.

@my-life-is-a-bad-sitcom asked: You’re Kirby’s are so cool and I love your art style. Honestly awesome. Giving you a standing ovation. 👍

thank you! I love to draw a little guy

anonymous asked: I saw you on tumblr radar just now!! congrats!! -@secondbeatsongs

woah thanks sbs!

@darkchaogarden-blog asked: Tumblr's doing that dumb thing it's been doing lately where I can't reblog anything, so I'll just write to you personally that your art is excellent! Have a good day!

that sounds like such an irritating bug but thank you! I hope you had a good day too whenever this was :)

on [chess] @shiinteractsif said: dudes at the search thingy image. congrats

oh cool I wondered where the radar posts showed up on mobile!

on [chair] @mads-is-tired said: i’ve never played a kirby game but i desperately want to BECAUSE LOOK AT HIM

honestly so valid, he's basically a character brand to me (like hello kitty or rilakkuma). I'm probably biased, but I feel like the best games to start with are either forgotten land (the one that came out on switch last year) or crystal shards (originally for the n64, also available through the nintendo online vc). I think they're the most visually appealing (aside from epic yarn which is not a mainline game) and while they reward exploration they're not as complex as some of the handheld titles to fully explore, nor are they as hand-holdy as some of the other console titles. a good middle ground of feeling like you did the thing, without being frustrating.

on [soup] @give-soup-please said: ME #soupblogging #fucking same

how delightful that this post managed to find you :) these tags make me happy whenever I think of them

on [soup] @lord-chiopet said: me too bud. you too op hope the weather approved

good news, the weather has improved :) now it is overcast and drizzly, my favorite!

on [chess] @wealmostaneckbeard said: Neither of them know how to play so they made up some rules...

what a cute idea! I hope they are having fun with their new game.

on [baseball] @hutbug said: the teal color is called northwest green and we still wear it all the time!! its beautiful u did an amazing job

thank you for the info! before this season I hadn't really had access to baseball for the past like 8 years or something and a lot has changed lol so I didn't really trust my memory

on [blue] @ceylonsilvergirl [added] "I CAN TRY AGAIN TOMORROW! Or next week! or next month..."

that really is the vibe lately huh.

anonymous asked: Your kirbys bring me daily serotonin

aww good!

[worldsentwined]

So many of your WIPs sound interesting, but I'm especially intrigued by ART being a coffee shop!

So this fic idea came about based on @grammarpedant's Utopia AU post, with the idea of "ART is a coffee shop (or possibly the entire university campus) and Murderbot is the crabby barista" which I took and ran away with. I ended up making a group of student OCs who get very invested in ART and Murderbot's constant bickering, and then I got very invested in the student OCs. Here's an excerpt:

“No, that’s not what she ordered,” it said, seemingly to thin air. “I read the fucking order too, I know what it says.” 

She ordered three mochas, said the espresso machine. You need three cups. 

“Nobody orders three mochas at once unless they’re getting them to go or giving two to other people. She took her coat off, and her friends are ordering separately,” the barista argued. “She wants a triple mocha. You really should update your interface, the humans keep getting confused.”

There’s nothing wrong with my interface, and wow, if it was possible for an espresso machine to pout, this one probably would have. Instead it hissed out a puff of steam and added, I can’t say the same for your customer service skills. Perhaps you should ask her what she meant to order. 

“Fine.” The barista turned to Sanne like she hadn’t just been listening to that entire conversation. “Excuse me. Did you mean to order three mochas, or was that a triple?”

“Oh, sorry,” Sanne said, not looking very sorry at all, “I meant to order a triple mocha. Is that not how I do that?”

The barista…didn’t sigh, exactly, but if it needed to breathe it probably would have. It pulled up a copy of Sanne’s receipt and pointed to her order, which read: mocha mocha mocha extra whip. “You tripped a glitch in the—yes it is a glitch, shut up I’m trying to do customer service—a glitch in the order system. Next time just change the field for “number of pumps” from one to three, instead of pressing the “mocha” button three times.”

“Ah, I get it now, thanks!” As soon as the barista turned away to start making her drink again, she grinned at her friends. “See?”

“Was…was it arguing with the coffee machine?” Rusty asked. “I didn’t know coffee machines could argue.”

“Even people with very little processing power can argue,” ThirtySix said. “I mean, look at you, Rusty.”

“Hey!”

“Your drinks,” the barista said, setting a tray on the counter before the argument could escalate. “Let us know if you need anything else.”

ThirtySix picked up the tray and followed Sanne to pick a table, but Rusty lingered behind. “I have a question, actually. Your designation—what does it mean? That’s like, an anagram for something, right?” They pointed at the barista’s chest.

“Rusty, you can’t just ask people that,” Carys said.

The barista glanced down at its name badge, which read “SEC-U”, and shrugged. “Yeah, it’s an anagram. Or…the other thing. Whatever. It stands for ‘Shot of Espresso, Cold’.” “And the U is for…?” "Unit."

[anonymouslyyourssix]

I love the concept of your CatCF AU so much, and I do have to ask after reading one fic in particular- do clones exist of the other kids, and have any of them reached varying levels of freedom like the Charlies? It's such a thought-provoking twist on a take I never see people expand on, so I'm excited to see more (even if I'm an anon sorry lol)

If I completely missed the point and one of the introduced characters actually is a clone of another kid you can be honest my reading comprehension isn't the greatest

(i am so sorry if i took too long to reply anon, midterms is a pain in the ass)

wow, this is my first ask ever, ive never interacted with people about my au i just occasionally post it here thinking nobody would notice (i only get two or three likes?) aaa thank u so much!

anyways,

aghh im not sure how to explain it because the lore is still very much convoluted

I mean u haven't completely missed the mark yes there are other "clones" of charlie but the thing is i haven't really thought about the other gtws besides my focal point being on charlie as a character. (but there are reoccurring counterparts of violet and mike or augustus in later separate arcs)

let me break down a small part of the lore that talks about this, the simplest way i could (spoilers below)

see anon, the 'charlies' in the nexus are called 'morphs' and the wonkas they're specifically assigned to or whom they are tethered to, are called their 'barons'

the reason for a morph's existence in the wonkaverse is to basically act as some sort of duplicant for a baron wonka, if a Tophat (what i call most wonkas generally) senses that it's time to leave out their physical shells and become part of the non corporeals in the netherport (their version of an afterlife) barons will have a "morph" charlie customized for the Factory to keep thriving thereafter, morphs are kind of like microchips embedded within a hollow ai body, so the code for a charlie is to be a blank slate, "a good boy" acting accordingly to their intended host (or in other words their baron),

here's an image of a brief description i typed some months ago (i will update it) ik im probably just spouting a bunch of gibberish but i sincerely hope I got my point across.

there is so much more to this, i haven't really got to expounding what the connection is between a morph and the Factory they've been tethered to, but basically morphs are food suppliers for the Factory since it is less like a manufacturing plant but more of a living organism. (the nexus is a dystopic industrial cornucopia, wherein multiple Tophat Factories exist side by side like a scope of dizzying wonderland metropolis, the Factories are powerhouses, they're all rooted in the same system that govern their entire omniverse)

so that's like the whole gist of it.

it is interesting how anon thought that some of the morphs in my story have reached "freedom", though in some cases they have, two of my characters for example: cordie and spike. (but tbh cordie is likely the true clone in here, she's a clone of a morph that her baron killed) since they're basically disposable in the eyes of the baron they've been assigned to, only used as a means to an end.

morphs of the four gtws are (lmao) non existent in this story because THEY are the food the morphs are supplying for the factory, (think of it like a cabin in the woods situation).

[koqabear]

i hope no one takes this the wrong way bc its got no ill intent but- ive never viewed writers as writing machines (nobody should!!) and more often than not i expect them to get stuck sometimes , not because im undermining them or anything, but idk a lot of writers (at least ones i interact with) are uni students like me so i feel like its just the norm to get writers block and/or periods of procrastination, in fact, i hope any writers going thru that rn don't pressure themselves too hard to write ☹️ you on the other hand... 😭 i definitely do not view u as a machine or writing generator do not get me wrong,, but u definitely are SO big brained and creative the way you post formatted fics at such a consistent rate and they're all so well thought of,, none of them are what i would consider basic in terms of trope n plot. swear it feels like mini novel after mini novel lol

this is meant to be a compliment of how on top of the game u are ,, not trying to put you on a pedestal and put the pressure on & overwhelm u!!

this differntiates u from other writers in the best way possible. not sure if u are familiar with nctblr writers but on the top god tier untouchable level of tumblr writers lies you n neopuppy ☺️ i mentally have an organization system i associate writers with, and although its not necessarily a ranking or hierarchy, that tier is the only "tier" there is that i consider above everyone else whom i don't "rank" in anyway, but rather group and categorize based on writing styles n content! yall just stand out that much :')

idk if this made any sense im sick n i just took a nyquil thats starting to kick in T_T apologies this ask is kinda messy n ugly

-dvp anon🫡

OHHHH???! THIS IS SO -@;!:@:! ??!!!!! SUCH AN INSANE (/pos) THING TO SAY IM A LITTLE SPEECHLESS RN??

i feel like the reason i’ve been posting so much is bc i’ve been on break and i’ve been trying to take advantage of this free time i have! once classes start i’m scared that i won’t have as much time/opportunities to write, so that’s kinda why i’ve been jumping on like. every idea i get ever. (but then again, i realize now that throughout this year i was able to handle both my assignments and fics. i’m a little weird sorry.)

but omg. you can’t say stuff like that to me like ofc i’m familiar with nctblr writers 😭😭😭 you thinking that i belong anywhere near the tier neopuppy is at is a little insane to me my jaw dropped when i read that alsndks

i hope you rest and get better soon!!! thank you for unleashing such an insane compliment on me omgldjsk

[alittlebitgoofy]

we were friends, now i want more (1/3) - (spice/luxx)

heheheheh i didn't mean for this to turn into a multipart thing but i wanted to post what i had and i won't leave y'all hanging on such a cliffhanger. so much gay shit about to drop i felt like giving these gals the build up for the penny to finally drop :)) many thanks to @fuckyeah-dragrace and @puppywritesthings for dealing with my tired ass writing and making sure it makes sense, and dealing with my constnat questions about the american college system (ily puppy thx bestie) ao3 link

Luxx huffed impatiently on her laptop as if that would solve the block that was this assignment. Fucking essays. Whoever decided this was important for a music class was an absolute ass.

Marcia glanced at them wearily. Luxx wasn’t one to half ass anything, always insisting it had to be perfect, the issue came with the self criticism. Even in the short time they’d shared a dorm together, she’d figured out that they were never happy with anything they did. There was always something to improve which was great until you had assignments due that you were never happy with.

The laptop slamming shut made them jump, watching as Luxx growled into her hands.

“This is fucking ridiculous.”

“Maybe you should take a break?”

“Maybe. Or I could just finish this and be done with it. If my brain would work.”

They let out an exasperated sigh, picking up the laptop and throwing it into their bag.

“Maybe if I go to the library I’ll get this done.”

“This late? Marcia glanced at the time. Who in their right mind went to the library at 11pm on a Thursday?

“Fuck it, no one else is going to be there and it’s 24 hours for a reason.”

“You do you I guess.” Arguing with her roommate was a lost cause. Marcia just shrugged, shooting Spice a text to inform her of Luxx’s actions. If anyone could talk sense into them it was her.

Luxx swore they would get this done, ignoring that it was due the next morning. They didn’t want to take the hit and admit something was beyond them.

Thankfully the library was as empty as expected, only a few people typing at laptops looking as tired as they felt. The change in scenery helped a small bit, progress happening slowly but surely to this piece of torture their professor called coursework.

Hours seemed to pass in the blink of an eye yet agonisingly slowly. She stared down the word count like it was trying to murder her. 500 words left. That was all she needed.

Just as the focus began to stray, Luxx’s phone buzzed. The brief flash of irritation faded to a small smile as they noticed it was Spice.

Spice: u ok? marcia said u went to the libry to do an essay

Spice: libray

Spice: library? hot girls can’t spell

Luxx: you got there in the end, I’m fine just want to die over this shitty essay

Spice: due tomorrow?

Luxx: yeah, it’s evil

Spice: how long did u have to do it?

Luxx: two weeks

Spice: evil

Luxx couldn’t help but smile at her phone. At least someone got it. Spice's lack of spelling ability provided enough amusement rto finish this damn thing.

By the time they were done, there was nobody else left in the library. Luxx glanced at the clock, cringing as it read 4am. Did it really take five hours to finish this thing? How could a stupid essay have taken her this long. At least it was done.

Not like she needed to be up for an 8am class. That wasn’t a thing. Not at all.

The world seemed to want her exhausted, running off barely any sleep and wanting to commit a crime if anyone looked at her the wrong way. Luxx wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for the weekend as they came out of class though knowing Marcia was with Jax in their dorm she chanced not having pda shoved down her throat and texted Spice to see if she was free.

Of course she got a text back in an instant, trusting that girl to always be on her phone.

Spice: sug is in class for a few hours, come hang out with me 🥺

Luxx: as long as no one is making out in your dorm im there

Even Spice was starting to grate on them a bit. Her relentless energy was usually fun but right now, all Luxx wanted was quiet. She grunted as Spice attempted to initiate conversation. They instantly regretted it as the black haired girl pouted, though her body didn’t seem to hold any tension or malice.

“Alright, I know what you need.”

Before they could question what that even meant and what the hell Spice was planning, she pulled them into her arms, leaning Luxx’s head on her shoulder as her hands became preoccupied stroking and being run through their head.

“If anyone else tried this I'd kill them.” She grumbled, though Spice just giggled in response.

“I know.” Spice chirped cheerfully, her relentless optimism making Luxx crack a small smile.

Thankfully Spice knew what to do. Now that she questioned it, Spice’s flipping on a dime was strange to say the least. How the hell did someone who got stressed out trying to figure out how much 3 items cost in a supermarket have so much emotional intelligence? It would be off putting if she wasn’t so warm, physically and emotionally. Seriously. Why did Spice’s cuddles always leave Luxx so relaxed? At last, their body gave in to fatigue, melting into Spice as she moved one arm to fall over Luxx’s back, circling small trails with her thumb.

It didn’t take long for Spice to notice the lack of movement in her friend. Truth be told, she’d noticed how tired Luxx looked the second their eyes met. She played dumb, knowing Luxx would end up letting her cuddle them to her heart's content and that was the easiest way to get her to rest.

—

Spice turned around as she felt a tug on her hand, Luxx looked down at the floor, as if making eye contact would make them combust.

“You think you could stay a little longer?” Her voice was quiet, tone not quite faltering but damn near close. Spice could feel the defeat in her, admitting to needing someone when she insisted she was fine alone. All the confidence and pride in the world meant nothing in that moment. Luxx finally glanced up, linking their eyes in a painful silence.

“You don’t have to. Fuck. Forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter.”

Spice didn’t speak, only moved back to Luxx’s bed and pulled them into a tight embrace. Luxx could only sit there speechless before letting themself fully relax into Spice. She was always the one to be affectionate and usually they just let her because it was fine. Not enjoyable, but fine. Right now though? She needed this. She needed Spice.

“Don’t try and deny it. You’re allowed to need someone. Let me take care of you this time.”

Something was different about Spice. Her usual thoughtless positivity was replaced by something a lot smarter. It wasn’t the first time Luxx had seen this shift, though it was the first time it was directed towards her.

She just did as Spice asked, knowing that she wouldn’t do anything wrong. Luxx let out a breath, leaning back into Spice as she pulled them down further into her arms. Somehow, only now did they notice how strong she could be. She always seemed so gentle and soft, someone Luxx wanted nothing more than to protect from anything and everything bad in the world.

Maybe it was the exhaustion, or the emotional vulnerability. But something felt different. There was an unspoken lack of boundaries, Spice content for whatever Luxx chose to do, letting her take control of the situation with a warm smile when she burrowed against her.

Luxx’s hands idly ran up and down Spice’s arms, that stayed wrapped around her waist. Soft hums accompanied the action, the black haired girl melting at the contact, squeezing them ever so tighter.

Something started to bubble up, threatening to break out of Luxx at any point. She hesitated, eyes darting down when Spice cocked her head to the side, analysing the sudden shift in their expression.

So many things she was trying to repress threatened to spill out. Her chest tightened, heart beginning to thud when things started to make sense and all of her awareness was placed squarely in the current situation.

“You’re so perfect.”

Luxx felt their body convulse as Spice spoke, stroking their hair away from their eyes as it fell in their face.

“You don’t have to be. I know you always want to be, but you are without even trying.” She continued, smiling softly as Luxx raised an eyebrow at her.

“You have everything anyone would ever need. You’re smart, pretty, you don’t let people step over you. Don’t think you have to work yourself to the brink just to be good enough. You are just by being you.” Spice’s tone was so genuine, dripping with so much affection when her eyes never left Luxx that they wondered if she’d been possessed. They wondered if this side of her was fleeting, if she’d be back to the girl who couldn’t sit for more than five minutes without mentioning dolls or getting sidetracked by the first interesting thing someone mentioned.

Spice’s presence was enough to put her at ease, Luxx just let out an agreeing hum into her chest, not quite trusting herself to speak. A warmth washed over her, replaying the sheer factual way Spice complimented her, like it was an everyday thing to comment positively on every aspect of someone’s being.

Sure, people called her pretty. People tried to flirt and lather Luxx with compliments they would shake off or just plain agree with. But the way Spice said it? Something deep within them melted when those sweet words came from her.

Time passed, soft whispers were exchanged between the two occasionally. Luxx’s brain was swimming, half asleep and wishing she could project her thoughts into Spice’s head without having to say a word.

“I love you.”

Before realisation could hit, Luxx had fallen asleep, leaving Spice reeling and ready to lose her mind over three little words. That’s a problem for another day though, Luxx finally resting was more important and sleeping with them in her arms was something she just wanted to enjoy for as long as possible.

[elekid]

(this is a genuine question!! sorry if it comes across as rude)

where do you draw the line between "irredeemable media" and "offensive but i will still consume this media"?

not at all!

I don't really think of media that way, to be honest. I believe that once something is created and shared, it is the responsibility of all of the viewers to think about that media and be able to decide for themselves what they do and do not want to put their time into.

For example, I know many people do not like to watch offensive shows on grounds that are completely and totally personal to them. And that's fine- you need to keep yourself in safe and social mindset. If there is media out there that you cannot engage with without it being detrimental to your health, then you should probably put it down and take a moment to remember that nobody is forcing you to watch anything. Only you have control over yourself.

if you are unable to make a rational and logical assertation of what you are consuming, or don't ask questions and think and discuss what these medias controbute to our culture as a whole, then I personally don't think it's media you should be engaging with! If you don't find any enjoyment out of media, whether it be analyzing said media or having a emotional connection with it, then you can just walk away.

As a mixed race black person I know there are medias which many would assume I find irredeemable. But here is where I as an artist stand. Once something has been created, it's out there and out of any one persons control. It now is in the hands of the people to be responsible wit that which has been brought into reality and cannot be Uncreated. Do I think its probably a good thing we lost a TON of old anime and cartoons of the 40's, 50' and 60's? Yes. We have plenty of racist propaganda already. Maybe it would have been interesting to preserve that media, but sometimes you win and sometimes u lose.

My true concern wrt media is that reading comprehension seems to be at an all time low. Obvi this is due to several factors(failure of the american education system, text based communication being the norm, etc), however, It worries me greatly that the people around me in internet circles seem to have this basal understanding of what it means to engage with media. You cannot simply consume thst which is goven to you as though it were food...it IS food, but food for THOUGHT.

I am sure I could think of more to say on the subject if I wasn't sick and confined to bed, but it is what it is. Thanks for the ask and for being a polite person.

[chaos-snap]

Pinned Post (Cus nobody reads abts anymore...)

Hi my name is Holly, and I... have autiusm that has taken the form of anthropomorphic hedgehogs HELP-

I am an AroAce Genderqueer Xenogender Butch Lesbian. I use literally all pronouns, preference for It/She & Neopronouns (such as This/That, Chat, We/Us/Ours, & many others that can be found on my Carrd)

What you can expect on this blog:

Reblogging posts about favourite characters

Metal Sonic

Shadow the Hedgehog

Silver the Hedgehog

Infinite the Jackal

and probably many others

I have a loose tagging system that tags ships, characters, the media mentioned in the post, and the type of post. Format is the following: #Ship>[ShipName] #Char>[CharName] #Media>[Media] #Post Type>[Post Type] This is for ease of me to find specific posts or art abt characters or ships on my blog, but it's there for everyone. I have a page on my blog that goes into detail on every tag I have available.

I'm a huge unapologetic fan of Sonic Boom, Sonic 06, Sonic Forces, & Sonic Prime. I would take 5 more seasons of Sonic Boom tomorrow I'm not kidding. I also love the IDW comics,,, yeah les goooo And of course, as per any modern sonic fan, I'm obsessed with the movies... they're everything I could have asked for and more

If u have any questions my Asks are open! I love talking abt Sonic characters and lore soooo muchies <3

Image of Headcanons I made for a bit below the cut (includes ships i'll be likely to reblog/make posts about)

outing myself as some guy obsessed with It/It's pronouns as a way to reclaim non-humanity

Obsessed with Queer Platonic Partners too, some guys are besties in a profound and special way

Clarifications: Silver is Fluxfluid but never a man, has many genders but none of them boy Metal is Gender Apathetic so it doesn't know what his gender is, but I do, it's no. None for it thank you. Scourge has only He/Him because it's more evil than He/They (facts and truth) I have no idea what the relationship between Metal and Amy is in my mind.. they're something for sure

[voidtoufu]

woo! being waiting for this

so here me out, it's like cheese and maggots

(non derogatory, i love being a little worm)

sometimes when u make cheese u get maggots

it just happens sometimes but theres things u can do to swing this or that way distrasticly, but also ways where things are already swayes

not everyone who eats cheese likes maggot and/or maggot cheese and viceversa

some go "WTF, WHY!"

and others are fine with it, might even enjoy it

some might rather just have some cheese, or skip it and go straight for some lovely brain worms

personally i know that being in something greater than myself that is so unique which i get to understand so intamately which understands me the same way is good for art

and even tho my entire existence has been with "overgrown mind"s i know also that life is inherently more complicated this way

i want to be able to write, draw, sing, create and let it just be that, im amazed by plurality everytime it reveals more of itself to us,

but if my creativity comes with the prize that it has to be channeled thru this unfortunate thing that is me and my mind's tendencies, fine

if the universe wouldn't let us just be without the darkside of stars murmuring pantheons into our souls, fine

if i can't feel loved and seen with the gaze of those that are beyond conventional physical, wounderful

but selfishly, i wanna control my life, there is a want to control who i meet, who i have to live with, and maybe thats valid

there will always be more of me for the ones i care for, but only so much for myself

all my ideas learns to speak back when i ask them, but only we are sapient, and nobody can really control who exactly we are

the conversations r some of the most day to day events for us now but thinking about it makes it eary in comparison to convention (and pretty funny)

"so why did u blow up the big corpo sky scraper"

"idk something about losing lov-"

"areyousapient"

"no"

".... cool cool"

its kinda hard to exprience senarios where u had no say of entering and having to discard of them when they feel so real, and i guess some people don't

but Imma be a "destrwawer of univwerses" cus u know, i wanna focus on my ACTUAL HEADMATES, AND MY ACTUAL LIFE

don't get me wrong creativity buzzin bussin

but if it screws us over, imma make it a corpearl form so i can say "f@ck u" with my finger in their face (yea no, im on that heavy compium, they're kicking my ass)

i think if there's gonna be more of us, that fine, whatever way the come and why, doesn't really matter

but pls can i just do an ao3 and not change the trajectory of ourlife pls

at the end of all this, whether u don't really need to think of this or u just let it be or u are a war criminal in system guilty of mass murder (jk, jk, JK!)

do the thing where u love everything, makes thinking easier

or not i don't like giving advices

thanks for coming to my TED (today's existencial delerium) talk

ps, this individual ramble prone brain worm also exprience psychosis and intrusive thoughts so that probably has to do something about it all, plus shaking hands and a disconnected that process so really thx for reading all that

ok im done pouring my heart out imma go curl into a ball

Please reblog, I don't have many followers so very few people will see this. I've been struggling with writing lately because sometimes the ocs and alters get confusing. Anything anyone wants to share would be helpful!