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#morning self reblog

qingxinships · 6 months

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You are the safe space for your platonic and familial f/os just as much as you are if you have any romantic f/os! Your platonic f/os love how they can crash at your place like an impromptu sleepover, or when you are there to listen to their feelings and validate them. You are important to them. And your familial f/os are so grateful they can call you family! Maybe you all have a special dinner night or go to events together. Regardless of who your f/o(s) to you (a lover, a friend or a family member) it's you completes them.

#proship dni !#good morning this is the biproduct of me wanting to have a sleepover with my platonic f/os #sigh it would be so much fun like we would complain about life and paint each others nails 😔#okay to reblog #selfship imagines #imagine your f/o #imagine your self ship #platonic f/o #familal f/o #selfship comfort #selfshipping #f/o imagines #selfshipping writing #teddy's writing 🧸

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tiny-cloud-of-flowers · 3 months

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Despite her attempts to collect herself, it took Aria a long time of letting tears fall and letting herself purr before she could finally speak again. When she did so, her voice sounded somewhat hoarse, but it was still unmistakeable as hers.

"You.. would really love something like me.." she was mumbling.

"Of *course* I would! And do..!" Clio said back, keeping her own voice light in return. "I'm always gonna be here for you, Ari. And I'm just.. so so glad that you're okay.."

She trailed off and started crying again, this time fully with joy and relief.

(Anyone is welcome to comment on and/or reblog my work if they want to, as long as my DNI is respected)

(If you would like to be tagged in any of my future work, please use this form!)

Thank you kindly to anyone who has taken the time to look at this ^-^

#heart of the void #creations from the void #OC selfshipping #selfshipping #love: crown of clovers (clio)#selfship: of flowers unchained (clio/aria)#self‑insert: darkness' champion (aria)#of lux and daybreak (union x)#..sort of. it's fatebreakers. which is various pieces of literally everything.#this post is okay to reblog as long as my DNI is respected #okay now I can go to bed #where did twenty past two come from #I feel like this could go in the Darkling AU tag but at the same time it. isn’t that.#fatebreakers arilio #you know what that’ll do #please let me know if this should be tagged with anything #I can explain the full context in the morning but in short it was very much a sort of #“monster finally showing how inhuman she is and yet she is still loved even still’’

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lesbiradshaw · 1 year

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it’s your teeth in my neck by dunbarogers

Liam starts noting Theo’s… thing surrounding his neck a lot more after that night in the truck. Not in a bad way, or even a truly distracting one.

It’s just another one of Theo’s Theo-y quirks that Liam is learning to roll with. He’s got plenty of his own quirks that Theo is probably getting used to on his own end, but Liam doesn’t think he has anything that’s quite the equivalent of Theo’s preoccupation with his throat.

#my writing #finally finished this after starting it months ago.#bullied myself into (mostly) staying off tumblr until i got this done #posting this at night where i am so dont be surprised when i self reblog tmrw morning #thiam #theo raeken/liam dunbar #theo raeken x liam dunbar #theo/liam #theo raeken #teen wolf

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ditch-lily · 1 year

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to all my kimchay and jeff and barcode people

it's 3am and i gotta sleep but i just gotta get some stuff out!! this is a ramble, and a bit personal here and there so i may delete it in the morning. but i'm so happy and so excited for jeff, and sos. this move has really been building up for a while, and you can see it in all the things he's been creating. and it looks like wuju bakery is still a go, and that saturn will work closely with boc, for a least a little bit.

but the way that was announced. i really don't think jeff would have done it that way if he knew how hard it was going to hit. i'm so devastated for barcode, and when they realised that he wasn't going to stop breaking down they should have taken him off the stage

i am kind of devastated just seeing him break down again and again on stage. my heart hurts a lot.

my emotions are really really high right now, not just b/c of all that. but because i just flew overseas for jeff, and just booked another. i feel kinda crazy lmao. wow parasocialing too close to the sun!!

but i do wanna say, things will go on. jeff and barcode will still get to create together, and barcode baby. i'm so sorry it hurt so much, but you have an amazing future ahead of you, and i'm so excited to follow that journey. i fell into the kimchay and jeff crowd over here when i started writing idolistic (which I will continue writing, and i hope you all still feel like reading it lmao) and it's been so nice slowly getting to know people here.

and i just wanna say thank you! thank you for making me feel welcomed. i've had a real tough time of it in my rl the last few months, and this place has been important to me. you all leave such lovely comments on my fic, interact with my posts here, it always makes my freaking day, i've even got to make new friends in person!!! that's insane, but so treasured. ilu all, and if you're upset and hurting -- its been so tough lately. i get it, i share it. but the journey's not over. we still get to grasp joy in the future, yknow?

lmao idk if that makes sense im going to bed now. but yeah, love u all

#personal #kimchay #jeffbarcode #this is okay to reblog #i think lmao #will my morning self wake up and see this and feel highly embarrassed???#100% yes

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jessicatredes · 4 months

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The town square was packed tight with people, corralled this way and that by Peacekeepers, dependent if you could be reaped or not. Livestock or spectator. Children moved slowly through the lines, fingers pricked and papers blotted with blood. The southern sun already high in the sky, clothes specifically worn for the reaping showing signs of sweat and dirt already. Banners with the Capitol emblem shifted with the soft summer wind. While the nearby processing plants were closed for the holiday, the smell of leather still lingered in the air.

The front of the Justice Building had been transformed into a makeshift stage. Several sets of chairs lined the outside of the building, each separated by a tall vase filled with native bluegrass and wild flowers. Two glass bowls sat on either side of a microphone. Thousands of slips of paper filled them, each adorned with a child’s name in identical print. A small tapestry hung over the stands the bowls were on, embroidered with a cow skull and Ad multos annos; a wish for a long life.

Once the area had become claustrophobic and the cameras were rolling, the mayor’s family and living victors emerged from the building. All look defeated, except for the woman following up the rear in a gaudy, bright outfit. A pantsuit in deep navy, with what looked like tinsel running through the fabric, matched the woman’s hair, pulled into a high ponytail.

“Sit! Sit! We’re beginning soon everyone!” The woman fretted, flocking between the two sides of the stage. “Everyone! Good posture and big smiles!”

Cordelia Poverly, Capitol Escort assigned to District 10 for a second year in a row. Her anxious behavior was probably due to her opening year as an escort ending within the first ten minutes of the game. Two twelve year olds reaped, killed in the immediate bloodbath. In an interview alongside their mentors, Cordelia chirped that not all debuts were stellar; no indication of remorse for the dead.

Another handful of minutes passed before the Justice Building’s belltower rung out ten times, signaling the hour and start of the reaping. The Capitol woman threw her ponytail over her shoulder, a bright smile on her face before stepping up to the microphone.

“Welcome, welcome! What a glorious morning to celebrate the start of the 68th Hunger Games,” She paused for a small clap, looking back at the others on the stage. They followed suit, though less enthusiastically, before she continued. “As we all know, the Hunger Games are a solemn reminder, brought forward by the Treaty of Treason, to never repeat the Dark Days.”

The many screens dotted around the square, presently broadcasting Cordelia’s introduction, flickered to a film all were familiar with. Scenes of war and disarray, narrated by President Coriolanus Snow, shifted to peaceful clips. Prosperity. Joy. Families together and clear skies. As it came to an end, the screens switched back to Cordelia.

“Wonderful,” She sang. “And now, before selecting our brave tributes, let’s remember our living victor’s who proudly represented District 10 in prior games.”

Turning slightly, she faced half to the crowd, half to the right of the stage. Six chairs lined this side, with four occupied. Two instead had a small card embossed with the district’s emblem. Cordelia listed off the living, clapping as each briefly stood and waved to the crowd.

“Falabella Hackett, 43rd Hunger Games… Colter Barlowe, 39th Hunger Games… Lusitano Whitlock, 27th Hunger Games… Valencia Camacho, 22nd Hunger Games…

“Fantastic! Now,” Cordelia said, turning back to the front and clasping her hands together. “For the main event.”

The tinseled woman moved away from the microphone, standing behind the bowl on the right side of the stage. She slipped her hand in. Dug around the slips. Pulled a lone paper out. Moved back to the center. All this done while the spectators looked on, holding hands and breath. The late morning sun baking the already restless crowd.

“For our brave young lady…” Cordelia paused long enough for a true hush to fall over the district. “Marlo Hackett!”

There was a second of stillness as the name settled over the crowd, creeping across their minds. The last name, just briefly said moments before, began to register. Hackett. Prior victor. A startling and hysteric cry was let out on stage. Falabella attempted to stifle her outburst, hand covering her mouth as she turned away from the cameras that would be focusing closely on her.

In the last rows of the pack of children, a small girl, only thirteen, stepped out. She looked pale. Wiped the sweat from her brow as the sun continued to beat down on her. She half-tripped, caught by another girl before they released her just as fast, like they’d somehow be reaped as well. Eventually she staggered up the stairs. Ushered by Cordelia to her spot on the stage. Marlo looked to her mother, tears streaking her cheeks.

“What a reaction from our latest victor,” Cordelia said, placing her hands over her heart in faux pity. “As always, after a tribute has been selected, a volunteer may step forward. Do we have any valiant girls in the crowd?”

A beat. Stifled crying was all that could be heard at first, little Marlo rubbing her eyes constantly. Another. Falabella racked with sobs. Cordelia surveyed the crowd, preparing to move on to the boys. Then, before she could speak, only a few rows away from the stage, a single hand raised.

“I’ll volunteer,” a seventeen year old called. Her eyes briefly met with Falabella’s, before looking back to the Capitol woman. The front rows parted. Staggered away, confusion on their faces. Volunteer? This was a girl from one of the community homes. No relation to the Hacketts, and little to no reason she’d feel the need to replace Marlo. No reason to sign herself to certain death.

The teenager walked forward, back straight and head high. She reached the top of the stairs. Her vision felt tunneled despite her attempted confidence, sunspots dancing in her eyes. She copied Marlo, wiping the sweat from her face in an attempt to look more put together. During this, Falabella had rushed to Marlo, yanking her daughter away from the front and back towards her chair. Clutched her to her midsection.

“Lovely, I don’t believe District 10 has had a volunteer in several years!” Cordelia said, pulling the new tribute towards the microphone. “Please, introduce yourself.”

The girl cleared her throat. Eyes danced to the cameras closest to her, ignoring the harrowed faces across from her. A cold dread seeped into her. The reality of what she’d done sinking in. She stepped closer to the microphone, voice not betraying her nerves.

“Sutherland Acosta.”

#myocs*#oc: sutherland acosta #mywriting*#this was sooooo fun to write #and i have more >:-) tho idk if i want to post everything on here #just cause this is very self indulgent LMAO #ik how sutherland fits into her own game & partially into her time as a victor up until the 75th game #however based on that idk how exactly i want her role in mockingjay/district 13 to be #i want her to have weird complicated deep relations w capitol people that leave her like. who am i and what am i doing.#anyways!!!! posting this late & will reblog in the morning lol #if you see incorrect uses of tenses pls know im rusty and wrote this in one sitting & then edited on my phone lol #also i like alliteration & talking w hands ✋

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void-kissed · 11 months

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taken life, given soul (Xenoblade Ship Week 2023 Day 1)

Vanea's work in constructing Face Nemesis requires a suitable pilot to house the soul of Lady Meyneth. After finally acquiring a worthy candidate, she is surprised to learn that the chosen Homs still lives after the procedure, and is even more surprised at her willingness to strike up conversation with a supposed enemy. (2311 words)The second part of this writing replaces the Face Nemesis cutscene from the end of Chapter Six.

This is the first meeting between Vanea and my self-insert, Citri! ..Not the most conventional or romantic of first meetings, but here it is in writing nonetheless! Despite being a couple of days late on the finishing, I decided that hopefully this could be fitted to this year's Xenoblade Chronicles ship week, as set up by a friend of mine - I hope that that's alright ^-^

(Anyone is welcome to comment on or reblog my work if they wish, as long as my DNI is respected! Tag list and document transcript are under the readmore.)

Document transcript:

The Central Factory that lay within the chest of the Mechonis was where all Homs were taken after their capture, ready to be repurposed in the bodies of the Faced Mechon and used to assault the titan they had once dwelled upon. The recent attack on Colony 9 had provided the Mechon with some valuable resources, even if some of the initial reports were conveying worrying news about a new wielder of the Monado arising. Within the metal walls of the facility, new Mechon soldiers of all kinds were constantly being manufactured, mass-produced Faces among them. All operations were brilliantly orchestrated by the lone man spearheading the charge against the Bionis, who even now was doubtless deep in thought about how best to proceed in his efforts.

However, in an illuminated chamber that sat above the rest of the vast factory, his sister - a similarly-tall Machina woman with long grey hair - was overseeing the automated construction of a vast white-silver figure. Its parts all towered above her, interlaced with golden details and a doubled red diamond on its helmet-like faceplate. Below the mechanical figure lay an additional array of compatible pieces resembling parts of a human body, ready and waiting for a pilot to be fitted into them. Dozens of individual pieces were being put together by fine machinery, each one being subtly tweaked or modified as the woman carefully adjusted the many glowing controls before her, but the overall structure had yet to be properly assembled.

"Lady Vanea." came a sudden voice from the communication system above the woman. "There is a matter which requires your attention."

"What is it?" Vanea responded, addressing the empty chamber with cautious, distracted uncertainty. "I am still trying to resolve the faults in this Face's digits; can the matter not wait until this is resolved?"

The other voice seemed to pause, but only for a moment, before continuing its announcement. "It is about the pilot for the Face you are currently working on. Two potential candidates have been identified by our preliminary systems."

That was enough to catch Vanea's ear, as her eyes widened slightly before she finally turned her head to face the other voice. "..Very well. Please bring them here immediately, then."

A few robotic chirps could be heard, before further machinery began to whir into action - this time at the other end of the chamber, which Vanea had now turned to face with her back to the silver Face's controls. Its parts continued to be constructed without her direction, aside from what should have eventually become its pilot's fingers, given that they still lacked the proper range of movement to be fitted onto such an important Faced Mechon.

After a few moments, an opening appeared in the dark metal floor of the chamber, and the bodies of two young Homs women were lifted up through it, held up by actuators from the factory. Both looked somewhat similar at the first glance, being the same height and appearing of similar age - they both had golden blonde hair (though one wore it in a long dishevelled plait where the other's only fell to just past her shoulders), and as they were each scanned for further information, Vanea could see on the displays that they both had dark green eyes. One had freckles dotting her shoulders and rounded cheeks, and was littered with a number of scrapes and bruises, while the other's skin was clearer and she appeared to have suffered one particularly significant wound that had clawed at her clavicle.

"..What about these Homs has marked them out as worthy vessels?" Vanea asked, before the continued operations of the myriad machines circling each Homs began to output the pertinent results on the floating screens around her in the chamber. Carefully examining the data that had been gathered, Vanea found the answers lying within each girl's scanned memories, snapshots playing from them like a slideshow - the pair clearly shared a long history with not only each other, but also several other inhabitants of their home colony, and one boy with light blonde hair stood out particularly strongly to the Machina.

"..The Heir of the Monado." she said aloud in recognition. "They were both friends with him, it would seem.."

She pored over the memories closely, trying to glean what information she could about the two Homs' personalities from them. It seemed like somewhat of an invasion of privacy to do this, but it was of the utmost importance that everything was as perfect as it could be for her current project, so such measures had to be taken to ensure the correct compatibility. Finally, after some time, she had made her decision - it was the freckled Homs with the longer hair who would be used for this purpose, due to the piercing injury sustained by the other one potentially making it difficult for the key component to be added correctly. The glimpses of her many days spent pursuing scientific endeavours with the Monado's newest wielder had also caught Vanea's eye more strongly.

"Please take this girl and prepare her for piloting Nemesis." the Machina stated to her assistant machinery, before turning to look over her shoulder at the unfortunate error still blaring from the screens behind her. "..Adjust the current pilot specifications to her body plan, but- try to preserve her original hands, if possible. That may have to be the workaround for the defects in the current digits, non-ideal though it may be.."

She then sighed, and addressed the chosen girl's companion.

"This other one does still hold promise, though.. Perhaps see whether any of our experimental designs might be compatible with her frame - Azure, for example."

As the machinery around her whirred to action once more according to her choices, and each girl was sent to her fate, Vanea took a moment to compose herself, staring up at the pieces of her dream - the central prism of golden metal standing out above all others.

A vessel had finally been found to hold the soul of her people's goddess, and with her divine revival thus at hand, the time had come for the tides of war to shift.

As long as everything in this experiment proceeded as it was meant to, the end to such ceaseless conflict may have finally begun.

What a shame that the Homs' past would be erased in the process..

==========

Enough time had passed for all the preparations to be made. The Homs girl chosen by Vanea now had most of her body replaced by the mechanical components made beforehand, each piece now individually modified to ensure maximum compatibility with her remaining reconfigured immune and nervous systems. The only parts of her left that still appeared biological were her head above the neck and her hands past the wrists, though even they had received artificial upgrades below the surface to better serve as the Faced Mechon's central nerve unit.

This pilot unit was now being lifted into the central cockpit of the much larger silver Mechon, which had now itself been fully assembled. Its spiked and winged structure hovered high above Vanea like an angel, ready and waiting dutifully for its first activation as the final touches were smoothly made to its surfaces.

“Face Nemesis." Vanea began, addressing the construct above her.

"Your frame is complete.

As is the integration of your pilot."

Some of the assistant Mechon receded, revealing the pilot's unconscious figure sat in place within Nemesis' torso.

"This Homs..

She holds memories of the Heir of the Monado.

She appears to have seen him as a friend.

..I wonder what she would have been like to know.

But, that is not important here.

It only means that her body will be an able vessel for you, my Lady.

All that remains is the soul transfer..”

All other machines departed as the final Mechon descended, carrying the golden metal prism in its grasp. With exactly-calculated precision, the triangular component was fitted onto the chest of the Homs pilot. There was a moment of silence, before familiar red energy started to flow through the body of Face Nemesis; the soul component then started to glow with power, before settling down again as the armoured plating closed over the cockpit chamber.

"..I have fulfilled my duty." Vanea stated, allowing herself to smile as everything finally fell into place.

"You and only you can bring about a new age on Mechonis -

no, the entire world.

My mistress,

Lady Meyneth."

She waited, and then became all too aware of how empty the chambers around her still felt.

"..Lady Meyneth?"

A feminine voice suddenly rang out through Nemesis' speakers, but it was not the kind and caring tone that the Machina so fondly recalled, even all these centuries since she had last heard it directly.

"Ah.. Where.. W-Where am I..?"

Vanea's own voice caught in her throat from hearing such an unexpected response, and her brow furrowed. "You.. Are you Lady Meyneth?"

"What?" came the other voice, sounding weary and confused from inside the Faced Mechon. "No, my name is Citri. Um.. What *is* all of this..?"

At that moment, all Vanea could do was blink. She had never spoken with a Face pilot directly before, and the concern rising inside of her about what she had done wrong was making it all but impossible for her to properly address the anomaly.

"Something has gone wrong with the soul transfer.." she mumbled to herself, beginning to anxiously flit between the different screens and keyboards in her vicinity. "Yet, the scans themselves seem to be indicating that everything is properly in place.. Her presence is clearly *detectable*, and yet the central core is not showing signs of *activity*-"

A sense of panic flared within her, and her ability to maintain a composed exterior was rapidly deteriorating.

"My dearest goddess, what have I done wrong..?"

As she stifled a sob, the sound of mechanical joints moving rang out through the chamber, before they stopped (having been moved in error) and the torso plating opened back up instead.

"Um.. When you say "central core", do you mean this part?"

A tiny *tap-tap* noise, much quieter than any type of metal hitting metal could produce, prompted Vanea to lift her gaze. The Homs girl - *Citri*, as she had called herself - was tapping her still-organic fingernail on the prism of golden metal that was fitted to the chest of her new body.

"..Yes, that is correct." Vanea admitted, blinking uncertainly again.

"It.. feels as though something is inside of it." she then tried to explain, tilting her head as much as the cockpit would allow her to. "Some*one*, rather, if.. what you were saying before about your goddess is true. But.. I'm not sure whether she can wake up yet?"

The Machina took a moment to consider Citri's words. "That would be unfortunate, but.. it is reassuring to know that you are able to sense her presence."

Citri gave a small nod, very tentatively, but her expression was uncertain.

"..What was supposed to have happened?" she then asked.

"That Lady Meyneth's soul would be swiftly transferred into your body, overwriting your own, for her subsequent use as a vessel to pilot Face Nemesis." Vanea stated matter-of-factly. Then she stopped.

"..That was rather callous of me, wasn't it?"

"Somewhat, yes." admitted Citri, who would have mustered a smile if not for how disoriented she still felt. "But if nothing else, you definitely answered me clearly with how you said it, so.. thank you."

An awkward silence then settled in between the two.

"..Could you possibly tell me more about what's happened? What you've done to me, and all?"

The genuine nature of such a question, and the absolute lack of malice that she had expected to permeate through any Homs unwillingly stolen by Mechon, made it impossible for Vanea to simply dismiss the girl's curiosity. Something softened in her expression, and she opened her mouth to try and form an explanation, but the same voice from before piped up through the communication systems as she did so.

"Lady Vanea." it called out. "Master Egil wishes to see you."

This made her pause with some uncertainty. "Understood. Tell him I will see him.. momentarily." she then settled on.

"Acknowledged."

The device whirred away as Vanea's gaze fell back onto Citri, her red eyes meeting her green ones for a moment before neither felt able to hold the gaze further.

"..I apologise for this interruption, but- you may have my word that I shall return to these chambers once I have finished meeting with my brother." she then said. "It may well be that Lady Meyneth has properly awakened by that time, but if not, then.. If you would listen to our story, then I see no harm in sharing it with you."

"I understand." replied Citri. "That means a lot, Vanea."

She smiled at the mention of her name. "You miss little, I see. Very well then. I shall return shortly, Citri."

With nothing more to say for the moment, she then left her alone within Face Nemesis.

Only *after* she had turned to leave the chamber did Vanea realise her own instinctive use of the girl's own name, and she was surprised to have found herself recalling it from one mention. Nevertheless, she persisted in her next objective, doing her utmost to regain her usual composure even as she silently came to the conclusion that it was a name she wished to remember, despite part of her also knowing it was not a name she should have ever had a chance to learn.

Thankfully for both, there would still be many opportunities in the days that followed to converse, and to learn, and to get to know each other more than either could have envisioned beforehand.

#a call from the void #creations from the void #my writing #xenoblade chronicles selfshipping #xenobladeshipweek23 #yes i'm using the proper tag no I don't care if other people see this i'm going to be brave #this post is okay for anyone to reblog as long as my DNI is respected!#heart of the void #selfshipping #love: a wish for peace (vanea)#selfship: a love to last millennia (vanea/citri)#or its beginnings at least #self‑insert: vessel of nemesis (citri)#of gods and titans (xenoblade chronicles)#another character also technically shows up but not very prominently #and lady meyneth is *supposed* to show up but doesn't #..I really feel like this needs some kind of content warning but I cannot think of how to word it right this second sorry #and on the note of right this second it is quarter past two in the morning oops #uhh. mechanisation I guess? would that work I don't know #i have no idea how accurate this is story- or character-wise I apologise #canon is what I make of it or something along those lines #anyway I hope this is okay

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tiltingheartand · 23 days

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 9-1-1 (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV) Characters: Evan "Buck" Buckley, Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV), Tommy Kinard, Maddie Buckley, Josh Russo Additional Tags: everyone but buck is only mentioned, inspired by that one reddit post, no beta we die like buck, file under: deeply self-indulgent, Epistolary, nobody gives advice like internet strangers amirite, this is super fluffy, there’s a little eddie/tommy but it’s not endgame, 7x04 speculation Summary:

r/relationships: my [31M] best friend [32M] is dating a man and now I’m worried I’m homophobic, please help

Buck’s got a problem. He turns to the internet at large for help.

#911 #buddie #evan buckley #my fic lives here #this is kind of like a self reblog for the morning #only instead of reblogging i’m just reposting #because i fiddled slightly with the fic tags but tumblr won’t let me update the post to reflect that #so anyway. long story short (too late)#if this looks like a duplicate … no it doesn’t

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smorallow · 2 years

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YCH commission - Contract/Flowers with The Snatcher with any AHIT OC/Self ship/self insert you have! (Rules are still the same in my Carrdo! its pinned) But If interested just DM me here on tumblr! I have 9 slots open! [Expression example below!]

#kaileedraws #ych #ych commission #commission #a hat in time #ahit #the snatcher #ahit oc #self ship #self insert #//I'll also do a morning reblog as well but #//If you have any questions please don't be scared to ask!

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