#idk this idea has been bugging me for a while

[imaredshirt]

Enemies to lovers, but enemies until they die and then lovers afterwards

Because after dying, they're stuck in a purgatory-like state where there exists no one else in the world but them. Everything is as they left it before death - the cities, homes, all the buildings and roads and signs of life. They walk into a room and it feels as if someone just walked out, always staying out of sight.

But it's just them. Alone in the world. They're already dead, and there's no use in killing each other, because the novelty runs out quick.

So they run in opposite directions from each other. Walk through empty cities. Cross oceans without drowning, spend years climbing up mountains and down ravines.

And they always find each other. Again and again.

And one day, they stay together.

Explore the world together. Sit in the silence. Until they find peace.

[tempestmothstorm]

Thinking about human versions of the tadc gang. I think they would work great in The Office (they would suffer immensely)

[toonice113]

Oh My My My ⋆ ★ J.Hughes

pairings: Jack Hughes x fem!reader (nicknamed Mary)

Genre: fluff

Trope: childhood best friends to lovers

summary: You've been in love with your best friend Jack since you were seven and he was nine, growing up your moms were convinced you would end up together and your dads would joke about it non stop. As you grow up you navigate through life together and figure out that maybe your moms were right all along.

warnings?: they are both in love with each other but can't admit it. I don't like using Y/N but I had to use it once or twice, a longish read?, timeline might be a bit wonky idk?, angst for like two seconds, there’s not a full on description of reader, but it’s briefly mentioned she has freckles, reader is called Mary the whole time but it’s a nickname, mention of bugs, I skimmed through it but didn’t really edit it, specially the ending so there might be some errors sorry.

Word count: 3.2k 

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ This is my first time writing in tumblr and about Jack in general hi i apologize in advance if this sucks but i was listening to debut and this idea popped up in my mind. Also English is my second language so there's that. Enjoy!

At seven years old you realized you were in love with your best friend Jack, you have been neighbors for forever and although you were in Luke's class in school, you had always been closer to Jack. Your afternoons were spent following around the Hughes brothers while they played hockey, often finding yourself playing referee when the two older boys wouldn't let Luke touch the ball they used as a puck. Your favorite time of the year though, was summer. Your summers at the lake house were magical, in those years it was you and your parents joining the Hughes two weeks after summer started and after you'd visited your grandparents.

That specific summer your parents had announced they were having another baby and you remember all the fuss everyone made about it and how even though you wanted to be excited about it you couldn't help but feel a little scared of your parents not loving you as much anymore, no one noticed the change in your mood but Jack, he knew something was wrong when he noticed your smile wasn't as big as always, how your eyes weren't almost closed as they usually were when you smiled genuinely. ��What’s wrong?” he asked as he sat next to you in the porch swing after lunch. 

“Nothing” your voice came out small and it made Jack frown, he knew you were not okay and he wasn’t about to let his best friend keep feeling down if he could help it.

“Mary…”

“What if they don’t love me anymore?” your bottom lip trembled, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

 “Who?” the boy was confused, who could she be talking about? How could anyone not love his dear Mary? She was the perfect girl, kind and pretty and nice and smart and he could go on and on about the good qualities he found in his best friend for days.

“Mom and dad, what if when the baby comes they realize they don’t want me anymore?” Jack immediately wrapped you in his small arms

“Mary it’s impossible not to love you” he said “Plus, when Luke was born mom and dad didn’t stop loving me so I’m sure your mom and dad won’t stop loving you” That afternoon you and Jack spent hours sitting in the swing holding each other not really talking much but feeling comfort in each other.

“I dare you to throw this at Jack” Luke opened his hand to show you a small green caterpillar trying to crawl out of his palm.

“He’s going to freak and hurt it” you furrowed your brows, one thing Jack did not play with was bugs. Spiders, worms, roaches, it didn’t matter, they all freaked him out the same, which sucked because Luke was in that stage where he was fascinated by the creepy crawlers as Jack had baptized them and he often dragged you with him to explore the backyard and find new ones. 

“It’ll be okay” you stared at him for a few seconds before sighing and putting your hand out, out of all three boys Luke was always the best at convincing you to do things you didn't want to do, and he found it especially funny when he got the opportunity to mess with his brother without repercussions because Jack could never be mad at you.

Approaching Jack who was on the end of the small pier watching Quinn try to fish you tapped his shoulder, turning around he smiled at you “Oh hi Ma- AAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH” he screeched as you flung the caterpillar at him, the poor bug falling on the wooden deck and beginning to crawl away while in his state of panic Jack took one too many steps backwards and fell in the water behind him. Quinn bursted out laughing dropping his fishing pole on the deck and clutching his stomach, behind you Luke laughed as well and you, well you couldn’t help but stare with worry in your face until the boy came up for air flinging his arms and exclaiming angrily, you knew he was angry because he wasn’t using your nickname, “Y/N I’M GOING TO BEAT YOU UP” he, of course, never followed up with his threat though, never seriously thinking about actually hurting you, he did however tell on you to your parents who after lecturing you on how that was dangerous and both Jack and the caterpillar could’ve ended up hurt grounded you for the weekend and you missed out on the trip to the outdoor movie theater, feeling bad Jack brought you back all your favorite snacks as an apology for getting you grounded.

During the first two weeks of summer when you were ten you had spent lots of time with your older cousin, she was fourteen and had told you all about her previous school year, including the story of her first kiss leaving you curious about it. When you arrived at the lake house you couldn’t shake the story out of your head, your cousin had said the boy she had kissed was one she really liked and that it had created butterflies in her stomach. On your third night there, You and Jack were outside after dinner, sitting in the tree house his dad had built for the kids to hang out in, he was wrapping a stick while you flipped through the pages of a magazine “Hey Jack” he looked up from his stick to you “Truth or dare?” you were hoping he chose dare so you could implement the plan you had been thinking about since the day you’d arrived. You wanted to see if the butterflies your cousin had talked about were true.

“Dare” bingo! 

“I dare you to kiss me” his eyes widened and you stared as he thought about it for a minute debating whether having his first kiss with his best friend was a good idea or not, then your eyes widened as he put his stick down and began walking the short distance to you, and as he was about to kiss you you panicked and ran away leaving poor Jack standing there staring at your figure disappear inside the house feeling embarrassment and defeat, that night Jack realized he might have liked you a little more than as just a friend.

As you grew up things changed, new friends came around, boyfriends and girlfriends, busy schedules creating a distance but never separating you two completely, even with your part time job at the froyo shop and Jack’s hockey you still found time for movie nights, early breakfasts before school, rushed meet ups during breaks and of course, summers at the lake house. 2019 was a specially weird year for you all, Jack had been busy with the US National development team and your parents had decided to buy a new house all the way across town, forcing you and your little sister to move schools. The move had meant that you could no longer just walk to the Hughes house and therefore you hadn’t seen the two younger brothers in a couple weeks, Quinn having already moved to Canada. But as summer approached you got through the two weeks of visiting your grandparents before getting ready for the big day, Jack’s draft was coming up and while your parents and sister were staying behind and spending the summer with your grandparents, you were meeting up with the Hughes in Vancouver. 

Quinn’s apartment was buzzing with emotions, Ellen lecturing the boys about being in their best behavior during the ceremony with Jim by her side nodding but not saying anything, the grandparents looked amused at it while the boys looked bored. Jack lit up when you arrived, jumping up and excusing you both with the excuse that he needed your opinion on his suit, pulling you into Quinn’s guest room as you managed to wave hello to everyone before he slammed the door behind you. “Thank god you’re here” He whispered into your hair as he held you close.

“Nervous?” You ask him basking on the warmth he radiated and the hug you had been waiting for for over a month now.

“No, just tired. Mom’s been going crazy over the whole thing” He pulled away a little, still keeping his hands on your waist but far enough so he could talk to you face to face, that’s when he realized you had changed in the month and weeks he hadn’t seen you, your hair was a bit longer, you were tanner and there were new freckles adorning your face probably from spending your days in the sun while at your grandparents and you had lost some more weight in your face so your cheekbones sat taller in your face, your lips were plumper too and for a second was ready to risk it all just for a kiss, but he quickly came back to earth and pulled you back for another hug pulling you towards the bed where you two laid cuddled up to each other as you told him all about your time apart. 

As he updated you on what life had been for him recently you stared at him and if he wasn't so into the story he was telling you were sure he would’ve noticed the loving glance you were giving him. He hadn’t changed one bit since the last time you’d seen him and you couldn’t help but get lost in his eyes that twinkled under the soft glow of sunshine coming from the curtain that wasn’t closed all the way. The door opening interrupted your thoughts, Luke and Quinn hurrying in and closing the door behind them, Luke threw himself on the bed while Quinn sat down by their feet “I need tomorrow to be over already” Luke sighed dramatically grabbing your hand and putting it in his head so you could run your fingers through his curls.

“Do you think she’ll be this stressed for your draft or will she have it down by then?” Quinn chuckled at his younger brother’s theatrics.

“God I hope she has it down or I might not show up until I absolutely have to” Luke said, you laughed at him as Jack tried to kick him off of you both but it only resulted in Luke slotting between you two.

“Let her be excited, two of her babies will be playing in the NHL next season” You tell the boys “Also I really don’t think she’ll be any different for your draft moosey, if anything she might be worse than right now, you are her youngest after all” Luke groaned pushing you away

The next day went by in a blur and suddenly you were at the Rogers Arena sitting between Jack and Luke after switching places a few times, you were originally supposed to sit besides their grandma but then she asked you to switch places because of the air blaring on her or something like that so you’d moved to sit on her original seat next to Quinn but then Luke started complaining about Quinn manspreading and not having any space which resulted in you and Quinn switching places and finally five minutes before the ceremony started you noticed Jack become a little restless for the first time all day after showing confident to everyone and with a singular look, Luke and you knew you had to switch places. 

That is how you found yourself sitting next to Jack, his hand holding onto yours strongly, the only sign he had given anyone that day of having any nerves. When the Devils called his name as first pick of the draft you all got up celebrating and he hugged you first “I’m so proud of you” you whispered in his ear before moving to the side so he could hug his brothers and then the rest of his family. It goes without saying that your phone was filled with so many pictures and videos of him on the stage the next morning that it kept telling you you were out of space. 

When you finally arrived at the lake house for summer after your stay in Vancouver your parents had a whole celebratory party planned out, a bunch of Jack’s friends joining you for it, and after dinner the parents decided to leave and so the house was filled with loud music and rowdy teenagers, you not being a big fan of small crowded areas retrieved to the upstairs balcony after making your rounds, staring down at all the people dancing and thinking about how this past year you had barely seen Jack and after this summer you would see him even less, the realization hitting you like a train, he was moving to New Jersey in the fall and you were staying behind for at least two more years, there was no way your friendship was ever going to be the way it had been ever again and you didn’t know if you were ready for it. 

“Now what are you doing here all alone?” The sound of the sliding door and a voice stopped you from thinking about it too much.

Turning slightly you could see Quinn walk towards you “Just not in the mood for a party I’m quite tired” but Quinn had known you your whole life, and even though you had never appeared as closed to him as you were with the two younger brothers he had always taken the role as a big brother seriously, that included being your big brother too so he knew something was wrong, but he also knew when to push and when to wait, so he just sat next to you and sipped on his beer bottle waiting for you to say something or decide you were okay to return to the party, he would stay with you all night if he had to “I’m so happy for him, his dreams are coming true you know? But I can’t help but feel sad too” you finally spoke after a few minutes of silence, still looking at the party below “I mean this is the beginning of something great so why does it feel like it's also the end of us?” 

Quinn watched as your eyes welled with tears, quickly setting his beer down and moving closer to hold you “Why do you think this is the end?” he wouldn’t admit it because he didn’t like to meddle, but he agreed with their dad’s idea that Jack and you would end up married one day, eh wasn’t blind, he’d seen the way you had his brother wrapped around your finger since you were six and eight, and even though you had never told him anything about your feelings and you were usually really good at hiding them, he’d seen the way you looked at Jack when you thought nobody was looking.

“We’ve already fallen apart this year and I only moved twenty minutes away I can’t imagine what it will be like once he is in New Jersey” You spoke through tears and sniffles, your thoughts too loud for you to notice the sliding door opening again, Quinn noticed though, turning softly as to not disrupt you in his arms, his brother, the one you were crying for was standing there, a heartbroken look on his face, Quinn encouraged him to come closer and talk to you with his eyes.

“Mary I don’t think I could go too long without you” Jack muttered walking towards you, startling you and making you separate from Quinn who squeezed your arm lightly before going back to the party. You stood there paralyzed feeling embarrassed from Jack finding out you were feeling this way, not wanting to make it seem like you were making it about you when it was supposed to be one of the happiest nights for him. “I’m sorry you felt like we were drifting apart I guess I was too in my head about the draft that I forgot about what was really important” 

By now he already had you in his arms, your head resting on his shoulder as you held onto him tightly, as if you were scared he would disappear “You don’t have to apologize this, I- um it’s nothing I’m just overreacting I don’t know hormones or something” you stuttered out the sentence. 

“But I mean it Mary” he spoke softly “I should’ve never been too busy to call you back or drive to your house to see you”

“You were busy with hockey Jack I understand that” you said looking up at him “It was important”

“And you are important too, god Mary you’ve been the most important person in my life for ten years, who else could I love so much as they were throwing a slimy little worm at me? I even apologized for getting you grounded after you did that” he chuckled at the memory making you smile “And who else could get away with leaving me hanging at a truth or dare kiss? Do you have any idea how much Quinn made fun of me after he found out about it?” This time it was you laughing “All those 2AM snack trips, and sneaking back into the house without anyone noticing, which mom knows about by the way, apparently we are not as sneaky as we thought we were, are my favorite part of summer, because it's just us, and I get to see you, the real you, not you who feel like you have to constantly check up on Luke or sit up straight the whole time so your mom doesn’t call you out on your posture, or like you have to help Quinn with everything because none of us do and you don’t want him to be all stressed out, those nights of just you and me watching mamma mia in our pajamas, you singing to every single song and trying to get me to dance with you, I wouldn’t change it for the world, you are my best friend yeah but I think somewhere along the way I got lost in the road and ended up falling in love with you” His confession leaves you speechless, wondering if it is real, if your best friend who you have been in love with for ten years is really standing in front of you telling you he is also in loe with you, and its only when you feel his hand touch your face to pull some strand of hair out of it that you realize it is all very real, so you reach up and pull him by his neck connecting your lips in a kiss you had been waiting for for too long.

Pulling away after a minute, both of you with smiley faces you speak “It was a cute little caterpillar I threw at you, I regretted not kissing you as soon as I ran out of the tree house and for the record I’ve been in love with you since I was seven after you sat on the porch swing with me for hours when I thought my parents wouldn’t love me anymore” Jack chuckles at your remarks and pulls you back in for another kiss.

[pb5luvr]

cruel world

a/n: hi! this is my first fic so pls feel free to give me feedback! if i decide to write more ill probably mostly write for pazzi (no smut though idk how you guys write that without cringing lol). but ill probably also ask for ideas. anyways enjoy!!

3rd POV

“azzi!!” paige yelled as she walked through the door to the brunettes apartment

she had been out with the team while azzi decided to stay back. concerned, paige made her way to azzi’s apartment. the team was celebrating the win; meanwhile, azzi was more concerned about her singular 3 pointer she made. she lay curled up in her bed, scrolling. through twitter, instagram, tiktok, any social media she had, searching for the opinions of other. there was a mix of excitement for the win but also disappointment for azzi’s lack of scoring. of course, no one was mad, she was the peoples princess after all! but azzi, being an overthinker, thought differently.

paige made her way to azzi’s room and knocked. “can i come in?” she asked softly

“yeah” azzi responded quietly, still locked into her phone

“hi baby” paige said with a smile as she walked into the room. still, azzi didn’t acknowledge her. confused by azzi’s lack of excitement, paige walked over to azzi’s bed and sat next to her

“azziii” paige said repeatedly as she poked at azzi’s cheek. to her dismay, azzi barely flinched

“what’s wrong my love?” paige asked as confusion grew on her face. azzi didn’t respond. she just continued scrolling, aimlessly.

“did i do something?” she asked again. reluctantly, azzi shook her head

thank god paige thought.

“did anyone on the team do anything?”

azzi shook her head again

“are you upset with yourself”

azzi shrugged

“whatcha looking at?” paige asked

azzi shrugged again as paige glanced at her phone. she saw azzi was on an infamous uconn slander page. one of the hate pages that always spreads negativity when the team doesn’t magically score 2,000 points and everyone has a triple double.

“azzi. you can’t be serious” paige said as she gave azzi a stern look, “you know all those people do is talk bad about us”

“but it’s true paige” azzi whispered. concerned, paige cocked her head to the side

azzi noticed and responded, “it’s true. i played like an idiot. i didn’t take any shots nor did i make any. i had what, one rebound? that’s it? i can’t even make a shot or grab a rebound. it’s pathetic!” azzi rambled as paige listened

“you’re not pathetic az. everyone has off nights” paige responded as she grabbed azzi’s hand and caressed her thumb against it

“not this bad! i don’t think anyone has played this bad in uconn history!! and geno fucking kept me in! it was so embarrassing.” azzi exclaimed as tears started to well in her eyes

“azzi…” paige said softly as she brought her hands to cup azzi’s cheeks, “you should never be embarrassed for having an off night. you don’t suck and geno kept you in because he believes in you. just like the rest of us. especially me. you could miss everyone shot for a whole game and i would still give you the ball for the game winning shot”

“but everyone’s saying-” azzi said, sniffling, before she was cut off by paige

“the world is a cruel place azzi. don’t let it get to you. the only person who knows you better than anyone is yourself. what they say doesn’t matter. ok?”

azzi nodded as paige pulled her to her chest

“i love you so much azzi bug and i will always believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself”

“i love you paige” azzi said as she lay comfortably in paige’s arms

[elliesfreckle]

over & out | radio au |

▶• ılıılıılılıılıılı. 0

previous | next

📟 : record two 𖣠 white noise and wrong stars

⏯ synopsis : you’re a voice on the other side of the radio. she’s your wrong frequency — a mistake. a fortune, maybe, at the edge of a devastated world. you never told her your name. she never asked what you looked like. but when the nights get colder, in a world full of silence, you keep talking.

⏯ pairing : ellie williams & fem!reader

⏯ content warning : swearing; canon tlou after outbreak world; idk and prob edit it later

⏯ word count : 4.7k

⏯ a/n : HELLO we did it! today is the day! i have passed (away) the exam (two more left)! wont say much 'cause i died while proofreading, editing and uploading this shi on tumblr. and im REALLY sorry if there are so many stupid mistakes that you'll ban me forever. trust me i hate being perfectly literate in my native language while writing english like a 9 year old boy. but! i have to thank you all for how gently you embraced this idea and for your support. special shoutout to @losing-it-lately youre SO SWEET, and i loved that crazy night talk.

promise ill learn how to make posts prettier, maybe even create a masterlist and a playlist. flirty reminder that your reblogs and comments feed my soul

also if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter, let me know. for now, enjoy ♡

The one constant thing about the broadcast room in the Great Falls quarantine zone is that it’s freezing cold no matter what. This chill has been dwelling deep inside your bones for years. Not the kind that bites, but the kind that settles over your skin like a breath held too long.

And yet, sometimes you keep forgetting to bring a threadbare sweater on your night shifts. Like tonight. But there are nights in which you don’t need any of it, because the world you’re forced to live in doesn’t let you feel comfort too often. It wants you to keep in mind that given life is fragile, and might be taken back whenever the world pleases. Your blood runs cold every time the sent patrols go silent.

Like tonight, again.

Outside the narrow window, evening fades away and coming night stretches wide and endless, clinging to window frame like wet lining. The air has that strange, waiting stillness—too quiet, too heavy—that lingers in your lungs and makes it hard to breathe. Crickets hum faintly in the grass (you can hear them even from your radio cell on the highest floor), but even they sound unsure, like something’s pressing down on them from above. Birds are hovering in the low sky, almost bruising tree crowns with their angled wings. Their calls warn you. A bug cracks with all its tiny power into the glass of the windowpane, attracted by the lamp’s light. You flinch.

The pine trees don’t move. Not yet.

They stand stiff and dark against the horizon, their needles limp in the air, knowing what’s coming.

You can feel it too—not in sound, but in pressure, like something biding just beyond the edge of hearing. For days, the weather’s been thick with it—heat that doesn’t lift even after sunset, that makes the floors sweat and tempers run short. Checking the weather is one of your responsibilities too—radio signals are capricious with changes in the air, and with years it became a sense, not a science. You’ve learned that from the specific shapes of clouds—or their absence, the shade that sun has at the dawn; you’ve been watching birds and stray cats, as they are the first early harbingers of storms. You like to think they share sacred knowledge with you. Leaving your post on grey mornings, you can tell if it’s going to rain just by looking at the dew. And that definitely won’t be modest to claim that you have some skills in handling forecasting tools. Smartass, they call you.

So now you keep thinking the sky will crack open and bleed it all out.

But it doesn’t. Not yet.

The radio crackles softly beside you, calming like an old friend, warming like embers popping in a dying fire. Yes, in four walls of the radio station there is still cold.

And still no sign of the patrol.

You lean forward, elbow on the desk, the familiar ache of exhaustion in your shoulders. Something’s telling you it’s going to be a long shift. The transmission button is worn smooth, paint rubbed away years ago by hands just like yours, probably older. The headset squeezes your head—a relic that somehow survived the outbreak. You forgive it the discomfort. Most nights. You adjust it out of habit—the ear padding still crooked from the last shift.

You press the button down.

“This is Homebase calling AA40B. Do you copy?” A heartbeat-long pause. “AA40B, check-in, you’re two hours overdue. Report your position.”

You count to five. Then ten. Dead air. This is the first radio term you ever learned—not from a book, not from a manual, but in the heavy silence beside someone older, more practiced. You must’ve been sixteen. Maybe younger. Watching, listening and realizing that sometimes, absence speaks louder than any broadcast.

Dead air means something has gone wrong. Someone important, who never spoke through the white noise again.

It stays with you—static coiling around your ribs, slow and taut like wire. You’ve never forgotten the weight of it, because now it’s here again.

Flipping to a fresh page in the logbook, you scribble the call sign again, even though the page already looks like a graveyard of unanswered calls:

18:04 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Received scheduled check-in from AA40B. Background static, but no incidents reported.

18:15 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Attempted contact with AA40B. Negative. Assumed out of range unit. Logged for follow-up.

18:24 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — Logged inactivity. Next scheduled check-in ???

20:02 — AA40B — 94.7MHz — No response.

Silence. It is always about silence at the end. You’ve faced the same ends of different stories too many times. However, you’re just a radio operator, aren’t you? A messenger. The one whose face people barely remember. They know you for your voice. They hate you for it; they hate to hear it in moments of another acknowledgement of things going wrong. But this is not your fault, right? You receive news—then you report. Bad news—report. No news? Report. So you file the report like always. No sirens. No raised voices. Just protocol, neat and quiet. Loss isn’t rare enough to stop the day. Or night. Collateral damage, they call it. Lives.

The last entry in the logbook is smudged—ink dragged by the heel of your palm in a moment of distraction. You underline the status. Twice. You want to breathe, really breathe. Tear off the headset, heavy and too tight; let your pulse settle in open air, feel your shoulders drop for once. Shake off the weight of duty.

But protocol says stay.

So you do.

Anchored in your chair (as old as the headset), waiting for something. Or nothing.

The clock on the wall is old, its plastic yellowed with age, but it still ticks with rude efficiency. Every second lands like a drop of water in an empty basin.

You count minutes by it — minutes left until the next scheduled check-in. The last one for the night. The one you’re not expecting to go any differently.

A small glass jar sits near the base of the radio, filled with dried wildflowers you picked earlier that summer. Yarrow, tansy, bluebells gone brittle in the heat. It doesn’t belong here—not among the grey buttons, frayed wires, and institutional gloom—but you brought it anyway. Something to look at while the hours crawl.

You clear your throat. You don’t bother sounding official anymore.

“This is Homebase. Again. Check-in.” You swirl a faded yellow petal in your fingers. Squeeze it until your fingertips are covered with its sticky powder. “I repeat—AA40B, answer my call. Report the situation. Have you got any troubles? This is channel ninety-four point seven, if you’re suddenly unaware. Be advised, Lisa, if you don’t respond your mother will fucking murder me. Slowly.”

You let the words trail off, resting your fingers lightly on the worn edge of the desk.

The kind of joke born from routine.

Lisa and you had planned to grab dinner after her shift next week—you weren’t close; maybe you would’ve been. It was supposed to be the first. A small thing. And now just…undone. Silence folds back over the room like a heavy blanket. Your peripheral vision catches something alike with a flick of lightning far away. Just a second that might be a play of your overwhelmed mind. Just a second. Then—

Click.

Soft; barely there. But unmistakable—not static. Not interference.

Someone pressed something.

Your body reacts before your mind does—a tightening in the chest, a shift in the gut. The way this familiar frequency is talking to you now: you can recognize its hiss among the thousands of others. And this one is totally different. Something unusual is happening.

This isn’t protocol, isn’t your patrol.

And there’s no call sign.

Just a breath, maybe. A small, ambient shuffle of noise—a movement. Someone is there. And then, at last—a voice cuts through. You will think about it many times later; you’ll try to replay this moment like an old tape, always returning to the second she spoke to you. You will lie for that voice. And you will—

“Who the hell is Lisa? And…who the hell are you?”

A beat. Long pause. The silence stretches, tense, uncertain. She’s close to the mic. No headset, no filter. Unmistakably not Lisa. But someone who’s used to surviving, not asking questions.

The voice doesn’t match anything you were expecting—sharp and low, with a slow drawl that sounds like it's been roughened by time and too many cold mornings. She doesn't sound scared, but she sure as hell sounds like someone who’s ready to pull a knife if you so much as breathe wrong. And as for your breathe…it’s more than wrong. Something about her makes you sit up straighter. You glance down at the console, thumb hovering over the mic: 94.7.

That should be right. That’s the patrol’s frequency; it has been for months. You double-check the band anyway, twisting the dial just enough to hear the edge of the next channel before snapping it back.

How the hell—?

Maybe the storm’s fucking up with the signals. That happens sometimes. Reflections bouncing off mountains. Electromagnetic interference. Whatever excuse science likes to throw at you when something strange happens in the middle of the goddamn night.

Your understanding of fate is called science.

“Are you ghosting me now?” Your stomach dips with another question from her. You forgot to reply. Do you really have to do it? Probably not. But damn—curiosity and boredom are louder than reason. And you want it. Badly.

You clear your throat, shift your weight in the creaky chair, and press the button.

“Uhm…Hello.” Suddenly, you don’t know what to say. You—the person who spent years talking to strangers over the radio—and now you’re mute. “I’m here. But you’re not supposed to be on this channel, are you?”

A soft scrape of fabric brushes the mic—like something is shifting on the other edge. Another pause. You can hear the smile in her voice before she even speaks.

“Nope. Definitely not.”

Her voice sounds younger now, almost smug. The way she says it—calm, sure, like she has a knife in one hand and her finger on the trigger with the other, makes your pulse skip. Calm. Dry. Like she’s holding back either a laugh or a warning. On the edge of your mind you wonder how old she is. Could you be peers? Some people define age by looking at someone’s palms. Your trained hearing doesn’t require watching to see things.

You pull a thin blanket tighter around your shoulders; you keep it here special for night shifts and instead of forgotten jackets. Moths ate through its fabric; holes stare at you like frightened eyes or twisted mouths.

You’re suddenly hyper-aware of the low hum of the equipment, the way twilight sky is fading navy, and your lamp is the only source of light. There’s no one else in the room: just you, just her. And the strange, thin thread of static connecting your two points of the map.

She doesn’t break the silence again, allowing you to take your time and think. Lead the dialogue or end it. She gives you choice.

You don’t even know her name.

But somehow, in this moment, that feels like the least important part.

“So…first of all, I must ask: do you need any urgent help?”

The question comes out too formal, like you’re reading off protocol.

“Do I sound like I need help?” The mic chuckles faintly with the sound of her voice. You knew the answer, but you had to ask. Just in case.

“Right now I’m not sure if I should answer at all,” you say. Does she hear the smile curving in the corners of your lips? “You’re not in danger, looking for signal to save you?”

“Save me? No way.” Her tone dips low, husky at the edges. A pause. There’s a smirk—quick and barbed—but it doesn’t soften fully. You figure out that she speaks like someone who’s used to being heard but never really listened to; that happens to people who don’t speak much.

Each of her words clipped just enough to sound in control, laced with amusement sharp around it. There’s warmth in it, sure, but distant warmth, like fire through glass. You catch the tail end of a sigh. “I’m fine. No danger. And even if I were, what’d you do? Send a helicopter?”

This. Even in her irony, something stays braced, like she’s talking with her back still against the wall.

You huff a soft laugh. Involuntary. You better think on what the hell you are even doing. You better think twice before the answer. But you choose to play her game.

“Just a helicopter? I have a whole rescue team for losers like you.” probably you don’t think even once, replying.

“Enjoy saving losers?” She baits.

“I’m here daily for it.” You bite.

She doesn’t miss a beat.

“What ��bout nights?”

You lean back slightly, flexing your aching fingers. The headset hums with a tiny echo of her voice and some static. There’s a rhythm forming here—and it isn’t protocol. You’re treading on thin ice. Almost dancing.

You glance at the faint, flickering bulb above you—the only company in this concrete box you’ve half-started calling home. The air smells like warm dust and coil-burned wire. Silence is hovering, like she’s waiting for you to laugh or shoot back some banter, because she has no idea how long it’s been since anyone spoke to you like that.

Your finger lingers over the transmit button. You press it, slower this time.

“Nights are for ghosts and dead batteries,” you realize how desperate that must’ve sounded, and add, “You fit right in.”

The girl scoffs. You’re not sure if she’s smiling or offended. Or just listening. A low crackle fills the space between you. If you close your eyes, will she remain on the border of your signal? Or will she vanish into the white noise?

You don’t want to know, so your eyes are open. Surreal night.

The connection falls quiet again. That particular silence that means someone is thinking. You interrupt it with another question:

“How did you catch this frequency?”

The response comes, broken and crackling:

“By random? I was—”

The rest is swallowed by static. Not loud, but needling. Noise spilling through the line like wind through the flung open window.

You wait, leaning toward the console, squinting as if that might help decipher the pattern in the interference. You try again, more precisely this time.

“Take on the headset. Your sound is shit.”

A pause. Some fumbling on her end. You hear what might be a soft grunt, the clang of something metal.

“Didn’t think it’d make any difference,” she mutters, half-off mic. “Hold on… I don’t see any— Oh. Here it is. Looks terrible.”

Only God knows what’s going on over there. Something to do with wires and dust, maybe. There is a clumsy thud, then a hiss, then the faintest muttered curse. Whatever it is—they’re putting up one hell of a fight. You smirk silently.

Finally, a low rustle, then—click.

“Well. Fine. Do you hear me now?”

And just like that, you do. You almost regret the suggestion.

Her voice lands crisp, close—like it’s suddenly right behind your ear, not scattered across states. The line is clear enough to catch the curve of her vowels, the scrape of dry amusement under the words.

Oh, you do.

It’s the kind of voice that makes you forget the question. The kind that holds back more than it gives—something low, a little rough, but sharpened and steady, like she’s watching you through the wire and dares you to blink first.

So you blink. Swallow.

“Yes.”

No more, no less. You decide to keep your freaky thoughts to yourself.

She hums, then moves: now you can hear it perfectly well, trying to imagine this natural movement. You fail.

A shift in your seat, the chair creaks. The room suddenly feels smaller. Warmer?

She’s the first to speak.

“What’s with your, how did you call it, AA40C?”

You correct her out of habit—and to buy time.

“Forty-B.”

A beat. Your ink-stained finger hovers the transmit button a moment too long. The clock mocks you—shame prickles beneath your collar. You’d completely lost track of time. And of the patrol.

“I can’t share this information with someone from beyond.”

You hesitate to call her a stranger. You must be losing your fucking mind. You add a half-smile into the mic, though she can’t see it. The words aren’t harsh, but there is a line in them—clear, official, practiced. One you’ve been taught to hold. You almost feel like apologizing—which is absurd. Unfamiliar. Not like you.

Her reply is quick, clipped.

“Fair enough.”

But something in her tone curls at the edge. Like she’s testing you, just to see how far the signal stretches. It’s not like she’s interested in all your military secrets, but like she has some interest in you. Or you’re just fantasizing things.

Her voice lingers in the headset—that grainy warmth, half static, half smirk. She doesn’t let it drop.

“Where are you talking from then?”

You freeze for a breath. The words are simple, innocent-sounding, but they land sharp. You’re not supposed to—

“I can’t—“

“Jesus. C'mon.” A scoff, close to the mic. Her voice crackles at the edges. “Such coincidences happen once in a lifetime. Ain’t you curious?”

You are, and this is the problem.

You hesitate, eyes fixed on the dull glow of the frequency dial. You’ve followed protocol a hundred times before. But it doesn’t feel like protocol—not anymore. You tell yourself it’s fine. Montana’s a big place. Nobody would guess.

“Ugh… Montana.”

There’s a bit of silence on the other end, then a click of her tongue.

“That’s it?”

“What?”

“Girl, you're so fucking paranoid.”

You huff through your nose—not quite a laugh. She’s not wrong. You hadn’t realized how tight you were holding the line—like names could unravel something if spoken too clearly.

“Why shouldn’t I be?” you answer, steadier than you feel. “It’s safer. For both of us.”

“Let it be.”

There’s a shift in her tone that might come with leaning back, chin tilted, daring you.

“Then you can call me…” A beat. A mock-dramatic sigh. “Damn Jackson.”

You blink at the console, then laugh before you can stop it. It catches in your throat. The name drops like a pebble in a well. Small, almost casual. Echoing. You know the name. Most do. A settlement too far south. Rumored to be peaceful. Overgrown with good soil and better people. Rumored, at least.

You let yourself savor the answer. Like you need to place her somewhere on a map just to stay grounded. Small details start to shape her features in your mind.

“Jackson’s not even a state, dumbass.”

“Wyoming doesn’t sound cool at all.”

Her voice flattens with false seriousness. You imagine a shrug. A smirk, maybe. Something self-aware but distant—like she’s drawing lines in the sand just to rub them out a moment later.

The words slip out without thinking.

“It kinda does.”

Are you still talking about names?

You slightly frown, eyes scanning your table, though there’s nothing to see. You raise an eyebrow.

“And why would you tell me your place?”

“It’s not really mine, is it?” A pause. “Just a name.”

You bite your lip. She’s still playing. Still keeping her real cards hidden, just like you. But the word Jackson settles into your memory heavy. Like it matters.

Like you’ll be writing it down later, in a space not meant for records.

There’s a lull again. Not awkward—just stretched thin. Like neither of you wants to admit the conversation has no more ground to stand on.

You glance at the clock. It’s later than you’d thought. Your logbook lies open beside you, the last line still unfinished.

“You should go,” you say, your voice barely above a breath.

You don’t add what you’ve begun to notice—how her breathing has slowed between sentences, how the edges of her voice soften, just slightly, like the weight of the night is finally catching up to her.

She’s clearly not home.

Not even on watch. Just… out there.

Wherever she is, it’s not where she’s supposed to be. You hear it in the way she pauses more often now; in how the static doesn’t quite hide her quiet exhale. The kind people let out only when they’ve been running too long.

She’s lost. For now.

And somehow, you don’t want to keep her any longer. Not out of duty—but because something in you wants her to rest. Just a few hours. Just until dawn.

Even if you’ll never know where she lays her head.

Even if she never calls again.

“You gonna report me?”

It’s half a joke. Maybe.

You answer before thinking.

“Not if you promise not to show up again.”

Do you want her to show up again? That’s another question. The one you’re not going to think on.

“Harsh.” You hear her shift—maybe the creak of a table beneath her elbow. “Guess I’ll just get lost then.”

Her tone is light, but something flickers underneath.

You hesitate, then add—

“Batteries don’t last forever anyway.”

That earns you a breath of static shaped like a laugh.

“Neither do ghosts.”

The silence that follows is different. Not quite goodbye. Just long enough to say something without needing words. The button waits beneath your touch, untouched. You sigh.

“Well, Jackson. Over and out?”

You try to make it sound casual, like it doesn’t matter if she answers.

But she snorts — soft, amused.

“What does that mean?”

“Uhmm… it’s like ‘bye’ in radio slang. Some kind of etiquette.”

Another pause. This one warmer.

“Then over and out, Montana.”

You smile—not that she can see it. But feel, maybe.

Your hand slips from the button. You expect silence. Expect her to vanish into space, like she was never there.

But then, you remember something:

“Oh. Wait.”

There’s a second you think she’s gone. You hold your breath, unintentionally. Your knuckles brush the edge of the transmitter, hesitating. Her voice comes through quiet, no louder than an exhale.

“Yeah?”

“Storm’s coming. Stay safe.”

You wait—half-expecting her to follow it with a joke, or some snide comment about the clear skies.

But she doesn’t. You wonder if she hears it too—that strange pressure in the air. That breathless weight.

Her answer is simple.

“I will.”

And somehow… that’s enough.

The line goes quiet. Not with a pop or sudden crackle—just…softer. As if her breath was still caught in the waves of signals, and then even that lets go. An act of disappearing without curtain call.

You don’t realize how much noise she’d brought with her until it’s gone.

Now there’s only the faint hum of the equipment; the low buzz in your skull, and underneath it—a hush that finally feels real. It presses against your ribs. Wraps around the base of your neck. Heavy, still. Known.

You lean back slowly, letting the weight of it all settle in. Shoulders drop, the holey blanket slips onto the floor—loud in the absence of her voice. Your body reminds you that it’s late. That your eyes sting. You haven’t moved for too long. And you sit there, still, another minute, or maybe more. You don’t know why.

You haven’t touched the dial since she stopped talking. Since that sharp and guarded voice cut through the wrong frequency and landed in your hands like something not meant to be held.

You should log it.

You should log everything.

You reach for the journal and stare at it for a long time. The pen dangles on a piece of string, tied to the corner of the desk. You’ve lost too many not to do it this way. It hovers in your hand. No idea what to write. A few entries above, your own writing stares back at you—neat, all-caps block letters. You draw a line underneath it, slow, deliberate. Then glance back at the console, the frequency is still open. But she’s gone. You press the pen to the paper.

20:27 — Unknown signal —

You pause, biting your lip. Hell. No words come. You don’t write what she said. Or what you said back. Instead, you cross this line out and turn to the next page. A blank one, cleaner. Further from truth.

20:28 — atmospheric interference — ghost frequency spill. No contact established.

You underline it once; like that will make it true. Then you flip the page, just in case someone else reads it in the morning.

You know it’s not procedure. But you also know how it works: unofficial frequencies are monitored sometimes. If the others find out you spoke to someone from another city—someone who shouldn’t have been there—they’ll shut it down. Change the band. Pull your shift. Maybe worse.

You close the book and push it at the edge of the desk. Your fingers tingle, thumb is awkwardly ink-stained as before. You don’t bother to wipe it. Just tilt your head back and close your eyes.

The silence hums, her voice lingering in your mind—

and it’s yours to keep.

Ellie doesn’t remember the walk back.

Morning mist obscures the sound of her steps, hides her uneven silhouette. She’s smoke, a breath of wind in the ferns. She’s at the edge of there and nowhere.

By the time she’s near the gates behind the west trail, the trees whisper above, restless with the wind that hadn’t been there an hour ago. She swears it wasn't. Light spills over the treeline—pale and uncertain, like it’s not sure it should be here yet.

Jackson's lights bloom like low, tired fireflies. The gates creak open just past dawn. Someone nods to Ellie from the watchtower. She lifts a hand, doesn’t stop walking.

As she reaches home, the door groans as she pushes it open. Inside, the air is still—cooler than outside. Ellie doesn’t bother turning on the light. Her shoes leave dark shapes on the floor, soles soaked from dirt. She shrugs off the backpack, peels off the outer jacket, and kicks at her converse until one tumbles sideways and stays that way. No sign of Joel. She doesn’t check. The weight of everything settles in the quiet. The shirt—one of her favorites—clings to her back, damp with sweat and dust. She scratches at her wrist, smearing a thin line of dried mud. She’ll shower later. Maybe. Exhaustion pulls her to the ground.

She has a couple of hours before they will need her.

Ellie sinks onto the couch like the bones have gone out of her. Face-down, arm tucked under her head, too tired to change. Her knuckles sting a little—a scraped corner from earlier—but it barely registers. Her brain floats somewhere shallow. Not asleep. Not fully awake. Just drifting.

She blinks once. Twice. Between those blinks, a voice brushes the edge of her thoughts, like a skipped page in a journal. It’s not clear at first—just a wordless shape, like a whisper behind closed doors. But then it forms: “you’re not supposed to be on this channel, are you?”

Ellie doesn’t smile. But she doesn’t not smile either.

She hears it before she sees it—the soft tap-tap-tap on the glass. That type of rain that starts tentative, as if asking permission. She turns her head, watches the droplets race each other down the pane.

Ellie exhales, low and long, and lets her eyes close.

The storm came after all.

[jakesimfromstatefarm]

[wip!] the art & science of parenting || jay park

update: this fic's been posted!! click here to read!

a/n: hellaur everyoneeee here's a lil summary & drabble into another wip i'm working on rn,,,i had this idea in the back of my head for SO incredibly long (im talking since 2021 pls) and decided to finally go for it :') so here's a lil peek for the time being to prove i'm still alive heh. i hope you guys like this concept,,,idk why but i really envisioned jay in this trope maybe because i plan on making it very fun & lighthearted but mixed in with some serious & angsty tones...we shall seeeee....you know i love my college!aus and e2l!aus heheh anyways saur sorry im yapping now! lmk what you think & if you want to be tagged !!

genre: jay x female!reader, fluff, comedy, college!au, enemies to lovers!au, parenting!au (parenting a robot baby LMAO), sum angst maybe, both reader & jay are smartasses who don't know how to communicate and confront their feelings , also a bit of photographer!jay :')

summary: The Art & Science of Parenting 101 (PSY1009) – In this interactive course, students will explore the psychological, social, and biological foundations of parenthood. Through a mix of theory and hands-on practice, you'll master the art of raising a simulated baby—aka the 'robot child.' Late-night feedings, tantrum taming, and crisis control are all part of the deal. What you didn’t expect to be part of the deal? Getting paired with Jay Park—the last person you’d trust to raise, well, anything. You’re pretty sure he couldn’t even take care of a pet rock. Now, you’re stuck co-parenting this robot baby together for 40% of your final grade.  Warning: Sleep deprivation is guaranteed. And maybe, just maybe, some unexpected feelings for your disaster of a partner. Good luck!

longer drabble under cut! <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

"Y/N and Jay."  

Wait. What?  

Your head snaps up so fast it's a miracle it didn't pop off your neck and roll away.  

You blink. You must have misheard.  

"Y/N and Jay," Professor Kim repeats as if she could read your confused expression, voice too nonchalant for the life-wrecking news she's about to deliver: "You two are partners."  

The words hit you like a bus. No, not even. The words hit you like a bus driven by a T-Rex that flips over, crashes into a building, and explodes into a million ashy pieces. And there you are—standing right in the middle of the wreckage, somehow still alive to suffer through every second of it—while Jay, smug as ever, whips around in his seat to face you.  

And of course, there it is: that look of his that screams 'This is going to be so much fun for me, and so much pain for you.' 

"Guess we're parents now, Y/N!" Jay chimes, his voice dripping with so much sarcastic enthusiasm you swear he just got handed an Oscar for Most Annoying Human. If that tone were a substance, you'd bottle it up and use it as insect repellent. On him. Repeatedly.  

You blink at him, you're sure—you're praying—this has to be some elaborate prank. Maybe Jay bribed Professor Kim with his rare attempt at turning in an assignment on time just to mess with you. Or maybe the universe just hates you and this is your karma for stealing your roommate's last ramen packet that one time a year ago.  

But no, Professor Kim keeps rattling off other pairs like it's business as usual, as if your entire academic career and sanity isn't currently being flushed down a metaphorical toilet, while you sit there, paralyzed, your brain rapidly melting into a useless puddle from the sheer thought of being paired with him.  

"What's wrong, Y/N?" Jay teases as he leans over the back of his chair towards you. "You don't want to play house with me?"  

You narrow your eyes at him, mentally wielding your imaginary bug spray like it's a holy weapon. "I don’t," you reply flatly. "In fact, I’d rather perform open-heart surgery on myself with a plastic spoon than co-parent with you." 

Jay’s eyes light up as his hand goes to his heart. "Aw, you really know how to make a guy feel special. This is why I like our little relationship, you know?" 

"Relationship?" You scoff loud enough to make the people sitting three rows behind you to glance in your direction. "The only thing we have in common is a shared oxygen supply." 

"See, that’s the spirit," he says, turning back to face the front like he didn't just ruin your life. And somehow, that pisses you off even more. Is it his voice? His stupidly perfect hair? The fact that he breathes in your general direction? At this point, he could literally sneeze, and it would still feel like a personal attack.

Is it too late to switch majors? Or schools? Maybe even countries? Surely, restarting your entire college career as a super senior would be better than spending the next six weeks parenting with Jay. Jay Park, who has probably never held anything more fragile than a Red Solo Cup.  

Jay Park, who is just sitting there, all calm and collected, clearly loving every second of your misery.  

While you're frozen in pure, unadulterated horror.  

Your grade? Plummeting as we speak.  Your robot baby? Probably going to need therapy by day two.  And you?  

You're screwed. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・

decided to go for a longer sneak peek than usual bc im very excited about this one heh :) i also changed up my title image formatting..trying out smth new !!!

lmk if you want to be tagged!

<3, addie

[lexirosewrites]

So, remember that deer-themed omegaverse idea from a while back? Well. I wrote this in one sitting, and there WILL be a part 2 lol. Consider it a two-shot I suppose.

uhhhh it's not bunny or particularly Easter, but it's spring themed??? (despite the fact that. deer rut is in. the fall. idk man, this has been haunting me for months.)

-

Deer to Me

Eddie never considered himself a smart boy. 

Clever, sure. He could outwit any big, dumb cludd any day of the week. Quick-thinking, maybe. He had to be, or else face more problems from life than even a Munson might be able to overcome. 

But ‘smart’? 

The jury was still out on that one. 

Eddie watches as Steve’s hand settles on Martin’s arm again. Again. He’d done that three times now since their little conversation started, and every time, it made Martin’s ears tick up, his nose flare, and his smile grow. Eddie watches with a hard line across his brow, a fair idea in his head of just what else about Martin was growing. 

Not that Eddie could blame him. Steve is a doe every young buck was sniffing out this year. 

The cafeteria is loud, and Eddie’s ears are already pinned back to try and mitigate the cacophony of banging dishes, footsteps and chairs being scooted around, and the student body all in a tizzy. 

It’s spring. Rut season. 

There wasn’t a person in the room not affected. Freshman looked on with envy at the three-tine racks of the Juniors while furiously discussing methods they’d sneakily read in their father’s GM magazines to rapidly increase antler size, while Sophomores found the smallest excuse to piss each other off and lock their rakes in the spaces between tables. Showing off. Some of the braver ones actually approached the lauded Seniors, with their full four prongs, nape manes, and settled attitudes, kings of their little domains. Some would take up the challenge, either because of the possibility of an easy win, or because they had nothing to lose. 

Others didn’t, though. They would just shake their heads, their partner at their side, and the trinket from their claim would rattle against bone where it was wrapped around their antlers. Pretty things, made by the does with love in every personal affect.  

It was the same every year. 

Eddie had once been a little Freshman. Watching keenly as the velvet bloomed and grew. Staring wide-eyed at the clashes of the upperclassman. Violent, bloody things, sometimes. He too had grown, waited anxiously, year after year, for the godly three-month time in spring when he could see his success or failure crown his head. A tine every year. 

But never anyone that made the possibility of fighting all that inspiring. 

Uncle Wayne had pretty well warned him off of trying his hand for no good reason. Not with words, mind, but the simple fact that the old stag was missing an eye. Gored in his own youth, being young and hot and stupid for a doe that ended up not even interested. 

Well. Never let it be said that Eddie doesn’t listen, either. 

Again - it’s not that Eddie is stupid. He knows he isn’t. 

He’s just not smart. 

The apple juice carton crunches in his fist, and Gareth bothers looking over for the first time. Not that he hadn’t cared before, but now the puddle from the destruction had leaked over to his lunch tray. 

“Dude, fucking chill,” he grumbles, lifting it away, and dabbing at the juice with his napkins. 

“Sorry,” Eddie replies automatically, voice flat. Still watching Steve and Martin. 

Gareth shoots him a glare. “I fucking hate spring. You’re all insane.” 

Easy for him to say. His doe spots dapple his skin cutely, like patches of warm sunlight, but the earrings littering his ears jingle with every flip, little punk. He’s never been interested in anything like this, and no one would ever bug him about it the way they did Eddie. Gareth said he never felt the heat of spring, either the pounding, migraine-like energy of needing to push and rage against another like the bucks, or the frantic, feverish need tease and play catch-me, chase-me games like the other does. He didn’t understand. 

Martin tosses his head, showing off the light bone of the antlers, clean and polished and not even nick on them. Eddie’s own are still a little patchy with dead velvet at their bases, still. He’d bumped them last week on a doorframe and chipped an end, making them lopsided. 

He can see how Steve eyes the nice set. Brown, spotty ears perked forward, tail wagging, just a few interested twitches. 

Eddie needs to leave. If he turns away, he might be able to get ahold of himself long enough to hide under the bleachers until the end of the day, and then go home and squeal and cry into his pillow at home and then wallow his sorrows away in bad movies and icecream- 

And then Martin reaches out, and takes Steve’s hand. His pretty, speckled hand, his spots a beautiful pattern of alternating light and dark, painted with the precision of a master artist of the universe, a single nail on his hand darker than the rest adding just that extra touch of gorgeous, and Martin just grabs it, no asking, no offer to take it, just fucking takes it for his own and. Lifts it up, to his stupid, over-large rack and makes Steve grab them.

Eddie can see the flush that crosses Steve’s face. Wrapping his perfect fingers around the bone, feeling the smoothness of it, Martin’s hand covering his. Keeping it there. 

One moment, Eddie is watching this, a pit in his stomach. 

The next, Steve is nowhere, and Eddie is plowing right into Martin’s bulk that’s taking up too much space in Eddie’s vision to tolerate. 

Given that he’d been on the complete other side of the cafeteria, one had to be somewhat impressed with Eddie’s sheer speed. No one’d had the time or presence of mind to shout and give Martin a heads up, or maybe they’d just not expected the explosion of Eddie damn Munson, the snarky-but-non confrontational buck that kept to his little freak corner most of the time. Either way, he plows straight into Martin, hitting like a truck and rumbling in his chest like the engine of one. The other boy goes sprawling on the floor, his dumb-ass oversized rack smacking against the tiles with an awful clatter. 

Eddie stands above him, nose flared, tail sticking straight up like a blinding white flag. For a moment, even in the general chaos of the cafeteria, silence reigns, and there’s a part of Eddie that’s shocked at himself, staring with a metaphorical gaping mouth at his audacity. Had Eddie Munson finally grown a pair (of antlers)? 

He makes the mistake of glancing to the side. To try and find Steve. 

Turns out, Eddie isn’t the only one who can hit hard and fast. And Martin doesn’t have a whole giant room to clear before he can. 

And Eddie Munson, is not smart. 

If Eddie, with all his gangly limbs and adrenaline-fueled anger and mis-matched antlers had hit hard, then Martin with his wrestling team body and giant rack, and sheer rage at the little nobody trying his luck during spring of all times, swung back ten times harder. Eddie doesn’t have even a moment to let his thoughts settle before his head and neck is exploding in pain, stars dancing across his vision as his antlers meet those of Martin, and he’s shoved bodily into the isle between tables. 

People are shouting around them - it’s not unusual to see two bucks working out some steam or showing off for their does at lunch, given the space and access to each other, but this isn’t a swanning competition, with laughing and goading and a dance of back-off-and-push-forward. 

Martin had grabbed Eddie’s shoulders, face blotchy red with his anger, like an ugly caricature of doe spots of his own. His ears are pinned so far back, it looks like he doesn’t have any, his hair practically on end. Teeth bared. He’s pulling Eddie in, and in a moment of panic, Eddie realizes what he’s doing and tries, in his sobering moment of clarity, to wiggle out of it. 

There’s a click, a sudden sticking as Eddie’s smaller antlers catch against the crotches between Martin’s tines, and Martin gives him a truly awful grin. Eddie tries to grab for him, shove against him, old beat-up reboks trying to find purchase on the floor but it’s a useless endeavor. 

He’s locked. 

And with shoulders like two mountains of muscle rolling and a vein popping out on his forehead, Martin <i>wrenches</i> his head to side. 

Eddie’s poor little body has no choice but the go along. 

He feels like a doll, an old half empty sack of beans being flung. Flailing. There’s a heartstopping second where Eddie is sure, sure that his neck is about to be broken because his antlers are locked too tightly, and his body is going on way while his head is staying still, but. Some higher power must think his existence is too entertaining to let go that easily, because there’s an awful scrape and grind, and suddenly he’s been thrown free. 

For a moment, he’s fucking airborne, his body twisting in the air like a failed cartwheel.

He hits the floor head first. A deafening crack resounds through the air, and then into Eddie’s head. Galaxies and supernovas pop behind his eyelids and he bounces, rebounding off his own antler. 

It saves him in the end. Right at the pedestal, it twists , splinters, and breaks right off, a little bloody spatter spraying across the nice white floor. The antler goes skittering under a table. 

Pain like nothing Eddie has ever felt radiates from the broken base into his face, his neck, his back, everywhere it feels like. He reaches up, and his shaking hand comes away bloody, and it feels like he can’t breath. 

Above him, a shadow looms. Eddie stares up, meeting Martin’s glare. 

“You want some more, freak?” He snarls, tossing his head obnoxiously. Terrifyingly. 

Eddie doesn’t even give an answer. 

For once, since lunch started, he does the smart thing. 

He runs. 

Hand pressed to his broken pedestal, leaving even his backpack at the table (Gareth and the herd will get it for him - they’re the best.) Head still spinning nauseatingly and tail tucked so far against his butt it’s trying to crawl inside of him, he flees. There’s a roar of sound behind him. Laughter, too. Jeering too, he imagines, though he’s too far away to tell. 

Too far away to tell that not all voices rise in sudden astonishment, or derision. One voice remains quiet as it slips out of the cafeteria doors to follow. Soft, like mottled spots on warm skin, worry in a pair of golden brown eyes. 

(part 2 for next week ;) )

poor Eddie😭 i need Steve to comfort him!!!

[fexarii]

Before I hit the hay and leave to the concrete jungle, I have to post these devious queer lists (like tier list but for the el gee bee tee) I made on VC . I'm tormenting my friend with look outside rn and it will become your problem too, dear reader!

Yes I will explain all of these just uhh scroll down ig

Rustle rustle grabs my papers . Ahem .

Okay I'm following the first tier list's order (besides Sam, he goes first) while I try to remember my reasons at like midnight rn so bear with me here.

Sam is an any pronouns bisexual because he is the self insert protagonist. It would be weird for him to be anything else for that reason alone. Don't tell me I'm wrong for this one or any of these for that matter I WILL kill you IRL with MY ARMY OF SQUIRRELS

Okay anyway Lyle is a cis gay man because at least the mlm part is canon. He doesn't strike me as someone particularly curious about his gender he just rlly wants sam's dick I mean lips. Yeah.

Hellen is a cis but butch lesbian ! She has lesbian energy I think she and Sam can be Yuri if you squint really hard. I have a reason as to why she's cis but you'll have to go through my 7 woke opinions to hear why.

Leigh is also a lesbian because hi Hellen x Leigh nation I see you. Also she/they/it is a diabolical pronoun line up, don't think I've ever met someone with those pronouns who doesn't bite people irl. She would bite your lips off if you tried to kiss her so like don't do that okay? Okay.

SHE'S CUT OFF IN BOTH IMAGES BUT THAT'S BERYL. TRANSFEMME LESBIAN BECAUSE OF A FUNNY MEME I SAW ABOUT TOP SURGERY OKAY THAT'S THE ONLY REASON BACK OFF

SAME GOES FOR FREDERIC EXCEPT ITS THE LINE "DEPENDING ON THE TIME OF DAY THE FRENCH GO EITHER WAY" I had to make sure that aligned properly with my dope as hell animatic (I'M WORKING ON IT). Also he's kinda transition goal so he gets to be transmasc tralalalala

Aster I imagined using Tumblr . Like the way he talks reminds me of Tumblr users, as a Tumblr user using Tumblr rn. Why does that matter? Idk bro but have you ever met a cishet person here? Yeah that's what I thought.

Okay Dan was like the second one I did. He gave me the energy of my former high school cishet classmates that would grab each other's asses but claim that they were just friends like okay bro whatever you say ig

With Jeanne I had the idea of her having been in a situationship with a biker back in the 90s and it just left her kinda confused, I think she has bigger things to worry about atm

AURELIUS' TWINK TIER HAS CONTEXT BUT I FORGOT WHAG IT WAS I think I made like a joke that the way he talks reminded me of TikTok femboys and my friend pinned the message in our chat and yeah so he got his own special tier, gj Aurelius!

Papineau was hard but my friend convinced me of them being enby cuz of the whole janitor thing so congrats you've been promoted to he/they. Also aroace cuz dawg's too occupied with cleaning to worry about relationships

Roach and Morton are both bugs and I don't think bugs really conform to our standards of love and gender plus they're too busy trying to not get eaten by rat baby rn

Xaria and Monty swapped genders back in highschool and one time I saw someone say that they're qpr together and god that's so true to me, thanks kind stranger for your wisdom

Ernest is a transition goal so same thing as Frederic, to the transmasc tier with you. Additionally! I think he doesn't really worry too much about finding love again because he has this whole muse thing going on. He liked this lady once, she's probably dead now and he sings songs about missing her. See my vision,,, (I love Ernest so much I might be his only fan)

Sybil doesn't remember jackshit but she's straight and she's transfemme, not that that matters much considering she's like all slopped now but good for her (in my head she once looked like elendira from the trigun manga,,)

I used cute moth philippe here but I was referring to the evil fungus. The evil fungus belongs into the derogatory tier because fuck you

Jasper... Let it go bro... That's the only reason he's in derogatory and also I don't think he's trans, he would watch conspiracy theory shorts

Oh yeah then the kids. Kids can be gay! I was very bi when I was younger . But ranking them in the sexuality list felt kinda weird so I just didn't do it. Rat baby got put into xeno tier because it doesn't have any gendered pronouns, does it even have a gender, is it even aware full stop?

Okay that's all I got, this post is so long. It's late so if I missed anyone chew me up in the tags idm . If u disagree lmk as well cuz I'm very much a multi-hc person and I am very agreeable. Though I'm always right so like heh I'm not expecting THAT to happen... (I hope you can tell that this shit is so unsrs)

Gn look outside nation... Sincerely, Benny mcSluggins

[velvetwyrme]

What happened to cybug Prowl's colony anyways? I do imagine something like a swarm of starving seekers (idk maybe their habitat was destroyed so they ganged up at some point and attacked the first big congregation of cybugs they could find...)... but there could be many other possibilities so. Uh.

seekers ARE a big problem for other cybugs (as mentioned here) but in prowls case specifically, i think it was more that he was separated from his cohort of enforcers shortly after pupating, where he just got enough time to connect with them before they ran into trouble. in this instance it'd have been a storm or something similar, rather than predators/other cybugs.

this is when green would find him and have the experience of trying to nurse him back to health with the intention of letting him go after, but since he was missing bonds with other enforcers he ended up hanging around a lot more, albeit outside (and then jazz shows up!)

also hi im co-opting this ask to reply to a few other jeetle/peetle asks below the cut

no <3

well... maybe? i think that they can probably understand patterns well enough to read some simple words but i dont think they'd be able to understand longer sentences.

im sticking with the idea that they cannot understand human languages (spoken or written) but that doesn't stop them from making associations for series of shapes/sounds and their corresponding concepts.

so they might understand specific words but not sentences/sentence structure imo. probably.

difficult question! how do cats/dogs/birds see their humans?

they dont like. see her as a really big bug (that's what cars are for /j /j) but i imagine they probably see her as a family member, a companion and a source of safety/comfort. i also think prowl would be closer to her than jazz as well.

slightly less difficult question! gives me an excuse to mention something thats been on my mind for a while sjkfdhsdf

i've been thinking of jazz as being part of a species that has a different type of social structure compared to Praxians, where they tend to end up in smaller groups that come together for certain seasons, raising offspring together in social groups. these groups aren't as static as seeker trines, often gaining and losing members over time.

as for j/p specifically... i wouldn't go so far as to say they're a bonded pair (they're both relatively independent), but they definitely have a close connection.

im not really sure about how attraction would work for cybugs (gestures loosely at whatever's going on with skystar) because i think that jazz would consider him to be one of his "group", albeit not one that he can reproduce/raise offspring with. (and i mean... he's effectively found a way around that anyway)

ALSO i think something that would be funny is if in their first meeting, prowl ends up accidentally acting out courting activities at jazz, who's just like >:0?! (i was thinking that prowl probably ends up leading jazz around by his hand, and also chasing him a little, and jazz is just like. swooning)

also to extend my response from the previous question- jazz'd view Green in a similar way (so she's part of his social grouping) but minus the mating/partnering context!

[dreamsy990]

slightly reductive chart bc im bored

TUMBLR FUCKING TAG LIMITED ME SO

1: odysseus gives me weighted blanket neurodivergent. doesnt NEED one but he IS one yk. but otherwise like come on

2: i dont think they would share clothes doesnt seem in character for either tbh. i do like the idea though that if ody had another cloak or something he left at home penelope might wear it while shes weaving so theyre a bit skewed for that

3: i think they use pet names a roughly equal PERCENTAGE of the time, but ody says penelopes name a lot more when talking to her and therefore happens to end up using them more

4: penelope seems very introverted to me. odysseus is an extrovert in uhhh the sort of way people misunderstand it. like extroverts get ENERGY from talking to people. its not that they prefer being around people its that they need to be yknow. anyways i think ody is slightly more introvert leaning than the people want you to know. is what im saying

5: dont have much to say about penelopes placement. but this is a bit of a silly headcanon i think hes not the best at expressing things genuinely? hes a liar by nature so trying to be honest is sort of like pulling teeth <- thats more of an odyssey!odysseus headcanon but i still apply it to epic!ody sometimes. so hes not the best at being sincere with words but hes VERY physically affectionate and he loves giving gifts hes sort of like a cat who--gives you dead mice yk yk. i dont fully subscribe to this headcanon but i do when i think its cute

6: odysseus did OBJECTIVELY confess first but penelope wouldve done so really soon if he didnt

7: they both kill on reflex that bug is dead the moment its spotted sorry

8: cars arent real

9: i think penelope could cook if you gave her instructions but this hasnt been demonstrated yet though sooo. as for ody i think he can make something edible if he has to. mostly out of necessity. he doesnt really care about making something GOOD yknow but he can make a solid 4.5/10 meal if required. like if you have the extra time to make it good you should be using that time for other things or whatever. is his take. i do like the idea of him maybe getting more into it post canon though,,, idk thoughts im not totally sold but it could be cute

10: sorry theyre both absolutely DISGUSTING in public. they sit on each others laps and kiss in front of everyone all the time its crazy theyre ACTUALLY revolting. people joked that the war would be good for them because theyd finally figure out how to be apart and they were WRONG they somehow figure out how to be worse

11: guys do i. need to explain this.

12: they both dont have any experience lmaoooo

[fligniuz]

Idk why but all I can think about is how lu is probably the type of bf who’d be so in love and obsessed with his girlfriend. Like he’d be the type of bf who is very supportive of what his girlfriend does. You wanna start working out? He’s going with you to your gym sessions and Pilates classes so you’re not on the journey alone, you wanna start eating healthy? He’s looking up healthier recipes to cook for you both. You speak another language? Mans is already on Duolingo as we speak learning as much as he can! I also saw a tiktok recently of a bf cooking his gf steak when she’s on her period so she can get iron and that screamed ‘lu’ to me lmao

i just wrote this whole thing out and thought it posted but it didn’t UGH whatever let’s try again

YES NONNIE!!! luigi is the definition of active boyfriend!

he loves to get involved in all your hobbies and activities. you like biking? luigi will be doing research for a whole fucking week narrowing down the best brand, seat size, and tires for the kinds of rides you like to go on. def will surprise you with a little bow tied on the seat, like in the ice cream pic :-) his sweet smile. and you know he’s got his own bike to go with you every time!

heavy on pilates classes ORRRR we know he did yoga for some time? would absolutely come to yoga with U! you get jealous because all the girls in class stare at him but you KNOW that man is all yours so you’re not too worried. if U like cooking/baking i can see him organizing a digital recipe book for U, adding new things you mention wanting to try whenever he can (and sneaking in his own suggestions, of course☺️). if you’re outdoorsy, he is too!! loves hiking with U!! is the most prepared when it comes to this shit too, since we know he likes the idea of having an efficient one-bag lifestyle. he brings extra water for the both of U, sweat rags (LOL☹️sorry), a change of clothes in case you’re somewhere kinda messy, and absolutely has scoured some perfect walkers with the best tread on them so you’ve got a reliable pair of shoes! everything U need for an adventure with him, he’s got two bags packed and ready to go, and he’s never going to miss out on an opportunity to explore nature with his fav person. he loves seeing new things with U

i can imagine that he’d like to play video games with U!! i like animal crossing and he made his own wordpress post about the og version for the gamecube so i know he likes it too! don’t know if he ever tried new horizons out but he’d like the summery feel of it and the setting of the island. would set up his own house on your island although he never gets around to upgrading it completely and it’s just filled with fish he’s caught (in that post he said his favorite part was fishing!) and waiting to sell to the nooks😭but i think he would use that one website that allows you to make your own pictures into custom designs, and he would have his favorite image of you guys together hanging on the wall!!! would lowkey be the breadwinner in your little animal crossing family. he likes the simpler, more nature-focused aspects like collecting materials, bug catching, and crafting, while U appreciate the creative parts that allow customization and design. he stocks up on bells for U and is always trying to help U complete your catalog! asks shit like “i know you’ve been looking for that one wallpaper and it’s finally in stock at the shop, you want to take some of these bells off of me?” :-) i’ve seen a few fics where U play mario kart together and he always wins which makes me mad because personally i would be whooping that ass AND laughing at him for it but whatever🙄 (the sex after a hard match would be…well i’ll let U imagine it ehehehe)

i’ve got a stomach bug rn so i’ve been thinking a lot about him being your caretaker when you’re sick or just hungover🥺stays in bed with U, keeps fluids in U, reminds U to take meds when needed, ties your hair back when U vomit, just constantly worried about his baby’s health. tries to be very careful about what he says and how he reacts so he doesn’t make you feel embarrassed or bad about being all icky. never forces U to eat if you don’t feel like it because he understands completely, but will gently encourage U to take some bites of a banana or toast, just so you have something in your stomach

“baby i know you’re dehydrated and probably thirsty, you want some water with ice? maybe some juice? i could go get some gatorade, that’ll replace all these electrolytes you’re losing!”

and when U do have a drink he reminds U “little sips, honey, little sips. too much at once will make that nausea worse”

definitely coos at U like “ohhhh my poor baby” or “i’m so sorry” or “it’s okay, mia cara, it’s okay. i’m right here with you, baby. i wish i could take all the pain away from you.”

sorry this got kinda self-indulgent😭i do NOT feel good

[variberry]

question for the tts famdom:

am i alone in thinking that quirin kinda sucks?

- i mean first and foremost we have the destruction of Old Corona due to the black rocks. given that he’s been a part of the brotherhood since its inception, Quirin is 100% fully aware of what they are. Frederic is an ass but what was Quirin hoping to achieve by lying to him about the rocks? it seemed like he was fine with letting Old Corina be completely destroyed and just moving everyone somewhere else, which he knows WILL NOT WORK because the rocks will continue to chase the sundrop until they reunite!! what was he thinking??

- then we have the withholding information from Varian. i know he’s a kid, but from what the viewers can tell, Quirin is under no orders to keep quiet about what the rocks are. it would not kill him to be like “hey, the rocks are powered by a stone with the power to decay, so maybe don’t mess with them until we collectively come up with a definitive plan of action.” there is so little effort put in to keeping Varian in the loop that it borders on stupidity. of course he’s going to take matters into his own hands if you’re acting like nothing’s wrong

- lastly, and this isn’t necessarily Quirin’s fault (*side-eyes Chris*) but there is no way in HELL that long ass note he wrote to Varian before getting encased in the amber just said “i’m proud of you.” there’s no way. throughout the episode, there are obvious allusions to what Quirin might want to share with varian— 1) the zoom in on the family portrait signifies that it might be something to do with Ulla’s implied death/disappearance and 2) the repeated appearance of the brotherhood symbol on the chest, helmet, and marking on Quirin’s hand, alluding to his role in the current situation. and we see him write a literal scroll of text. there are several close up shots on the letter, so we, as the audience, assume that it’s important and will mean something to Varian later on. fast forward to the season 3 premiere where Quirin is finally freed, and the note disintegrates after Rapunzel uses the decay incantation. well, shit. but now Quirin is alive to explain everything! hooray! but when varian says he needs to know what was in the note, Quirin pauses before simply going: “i’m so proud of you, son.” HUH??!? no. there is simply no way. it’s implied in the finale that Varian is kind of aware of the brotherhood, but there’s no explanation as to how on earth he found out. Eugene even has to remind him that Quirin was a part of it! Varian then gets upset at the idea of his father being affected by the talisman like Adira and Hector, implying that he doesn’t really understand how the brotherhood is connected to the moonstone. he can’t know and not know at the same time. if i’m missing something, please lmk but from what I gathered, Quirin has not explained anything to Varian. it’s implied that he wrote it all down in a letter he assumed Varian would read after his own death, but for some reason, when given the chance to, he doesn’t explain a thing. why? why was Quirin content with Varian finding out in the event of his death but not while he’s still alive? did Chris forget what he wrote???

- extra random gripe, but how old is Quirin? in the present, he looks a little older than Fred tbh but in the ‘25 years ago’ flashbacks to the Dark Kingdom, he looks the same! is the gray streak in his hair just part of his design? idk why this bugs me but it does

in conclusion: Quirin just pisses me off

anyway, lmk what you all think. thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[derangedanomaly]

Bad Sans with a Tall Thick S/O I mean tall to the point they are at boob level (idk if this'll apply to horror but she can be at his chest level but she's still tall af)

Sounds like a dream to me- WOAH!!! WHO SAID THAT??!

MASTERLIST

BAD SANSES X READER

THEM BEING AT YOUR BOOB LEVEL

WARNING: Established relationship, suggestive?, Not proofread!

NIGHTMARE:

It isn't the first time he finds himself in this kind of predicament.. and it certainly isn't the last one either.

You can't help but stare down at him in slight concern, yes, that is the Nightmare you're concerned about, but still- he was acting very uncharacteristic. He was just staring at your chest area, almost frozen in spot... "Night? Dear..?" He didn't respond to your voice immediately, gaze still glue to your chest. "Are you feeling ok?" His gaze finally snapped to your face instead, as he blinked a several times. "Sometimes, I wonder if you rile me up on purpose..." He finally slurred out as he coughed a few times, clearing his throat.

You wore a tight fitting dress, that hug your curves perfectly. (I'm leaving the dress completely to your own imagination, except for the tight part! ^^) Maybe, you were wearing this on purpose, but you weren't gonna reveal that. You had quite the fun doing this to Nightmare, he looked like he had a hard time composing himself.

All you did next, was simply leave. Leaving him with his new problem. You flash him a smirk before finally going to your shared room. So that's how it is, well if that's the case, he'll have to go make a punishment for you.

★

KILLER:

"Kills..." Nothing.

"Kiiillls!" Not even a budge.

"GODDAMMIT KILLER!" Ah, finally. He seemed to snap out of his gaze at your boobs. He stared at you wide eyed, as he wiped his mouth from any drool. Yes, that's right, he tends to drool during his stares..

You were wrapped in your towel, holding a pair of pants and a shirt. You've just gotten out of the shower, and Killer decided to go in the bathroom at this moment. It's like he has a radar for this..

You can't help but shake your head at him. "You're always so frozen on the spot during your unmoving gaze at my chest." Killer smirked at your remark, as he grasped your hip. "But you like it...right?" Of course you do.. how can you ever deny him when he gives you his pouting look?

"Don't give me that... I was about to get dressed!" You try to avoid his question, as you remembered that you're still unclothed. Killer's smirk has just gotten wider, if it's even possible. Oh no...looks like this'll be a long night... There goes your relaxation!

★

DUST:

"You're so beautiful..." You can't help but flush at Dust's compliment, as you avert your gaze away from him.

You've just met up with Dust for a date. You're wearing a black dress, while Dust's wearing a tuxedo. How noble.

You giggle a little when you notice how he's trying to refrain from staring at your chest area. He's so considerate.

"S-Something funny, sweetie?" You awe at his nickname, and hold his hand. "You're just so cute... You know, if you want... You can stare." You lean in to whisper the last part to him, ending it with a simple wink. His cheeks flushed purple, as he let out a shuddered sigh

Dust seemed to melt at your consent, almost as if he's been craving it. "Thank you, sweetie, you have no idea how difficult it was..." You giggle yet again, squeezing his hand slightly.

★

HORROR:

Horror beams at you, as you make your way over to him. "What's up bee?" He let out a short laugh at your nickname. He then points to an apron, also motioning to his own, wrapped around him. "You want to cook together?" He excitedly nods, holding a spatula in his hand. "Why not?"

You try to stiffle a giggle when he reaches over to you and holds you up. You'd say you're pretty tall... So you always get baffled when you see Horror's height. There's probably no one, other than the people in his AU, that can rival his height. Everyone probably looks like bugs to him.

"Hey, bee?" He hums, while chopping the meat. "What's the secret to your height?" His movements stopped, as he looked over at you, seemingly confused. "Well...I mean- compared to you, I'm pretty short, and that's saying something, so-" he's so quick that you almost jump when he's suddenly in front of you, holding your cheeks. "...Pretty tall..."are the only words that leaves his mouth, before giving you a kiss.

He skips away happily to the counter, while you sit there, cheeks flared up red, and out of words.

★

Feel like this sucks ngl. But still, hope it's to your liking ^^

[bingbongsupremacy]

Closure Pt. 3

I'm taking requests! Please send you ideas in! I'd love to write them!

Pairing: Steve Harrington x plus size!reader

Warnings: swearing, anger, idk what else

Series Summary: You never knew Steve could be so shallow. When he leaves you to date Nancy Wheeler, you're left with a pain you thought he'd never leave with you. Maybe you should've stayed friends.

Part Summary: Robin invites you over for a small get-together before you leave, little did you know Steve was also invited.

*Not Proof Read* Stranger Things Masterlist

Based on Taylor Swift's Song Closure. This was a request. I tried to make everything as general as possible. Pls let me know if missed something ty. Also Eddie did not die in this.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2 Pt. 3

*****

It's just an hour. And it'll be nice to see everyone again. I mean, I haven't seen Robin in years. I wonder whatever happened with Vickie.

I press the doorbell of the older-looking apartment. A loud ring echoes from the other side of the door. Immediately, it's opened by an excited-looking Robin.

" You made it! " She grins, pulling me into a tight hug. Her hair's grown slightly but she still looks the same as she did in high school. " We have so much to catch up on. I haven't seen you in forever. "

" Of course I made it, Rob. I wouldn't miss this for the world. " I smile at the girl.

She leads me into the apartment, loud voices immediately flooding my ears. " Make yourself at home. There's snacks and games in the living room. And Eddie brought beer. There's a few people I invited that you might not know. I hope that's okay. "

" That's alright. I don't mind. "

" Well well well, look what the cat dragged in. " Eddie's playfully acts annoyed. His hands are on his hips, a pout on his lips. His arms support multiple new tattoos, some of which look fresher than others. " I thought you died. "

I roll my eyes. " Still alive and kicking. I see you're still a drama queen. "

Eddie gasps. " Am not. "

" It's good to see you, Ed. " I grin while hugging the slightly older man. " How's the band? "

" Better than ever. " Eddie pulls out a folded sheet of paper from his black jeans. He opens it, revealing this band logo on the very top. " We're playing multiple venues now. And we've been asked to go meet with some exec hot shots for a record label. " His excitement is evident in his tone. " We fucking did it, Y/N. "

" I'm so proud of you! "

The doorbell rings and Robin jumps up from her spot on the couch to answer the door.

A few muffled voices make their way down the hallway as Robin brings the guests further into apartment.

" What about you? What've you been up too? Livin' good up in the big city? " Eddie asks. His arms are splayed out comfortably on the top of the sofa behind him. His legs are lazily crossed out in front of him, his posture very casual.

I don't get to respond. A voice behind me grabs my attention.

" Y/N? "

I know that voice.

Steve.

I turn my head to see the man I'd been hoping to avoid for days now.

Fuck.

Steve's eyes are wide in confusion. He looks slightly older but still just as attractive as he did all those years before. His hair is still styled the same, only slightly longer.

" Steve? " I mumble in surprise.

" You two know each other? " Robin asks, a smile on her face. She has no idea about us.

I nod stiffly. " We did a long time ago. "

A small movement behind Steve's shoulder grabs my attention. Nancy Wheeler peeks over his shoulder, curious to who I am.

" Oh my, Y/N? " Nancy smiles warmly.

Even better.

" Hey, Nancy. " I greet politely. Moments ago this apartment felt fun and casual. Now it feels absolutely suffocating.

I thought I was done with Steve. I threw his shit away. Why is this bugging me so much? He's a stranger now.

Then why does he feel so familiar?

The doorbell rings again and Eddie lets out a grown. " How many people did you fucking invite, Robin? At this rate the whole towns gonna be here. "

" Shut up. It's the pizza. I'll be right back. " Robin rolls her eyes before disappearing into the hall.

" Didn't you two used to date? " Eddie asks out of the blue, pointing to Steve and I.

" Uh, yeah. " Steve nods awkwardly.

Eddie looks between Nancy and Steve. " Shit, you two dated too! "

Ten points to fucking sherlock over here. Really solving all the worlds greatest mysteries.

" Man, that's awkward. "

" You think? " I glare over at him. Of course, he had to bring that shit up, didn't he.

The room grows quiet. Nancy and Steve sit side by side on the ground across from Eddie and I. A small brown coffee table separates us, thankfully putting some distance between everyone.

" Who fucking died in here? Why are you guys so quiet? " Robin asks while carrying the pizzas in. " This is supposed to be a game night, guys. Not a sit-awkwardly-on-the-floor-in-weird-silence-and-stare-at-the-floor night. " She places the pizzas on an empty area on the coffee table. " I'm gonna grab some plates and napkins. When I come back I want everyone talking. " She playfully orders.

" So..." Eddie drags out the word awkwardly. He reaches into his pants and pulls out a small baggie filled with long white rolls. " Anyone want some weed? "

" You're not smoking weed in my apartment Munson! " Robin shouts from the kitchen.

This is going to be a long night.

*******

" I'm gonna go get some air. " I take one last swig of my beer before standing up.

Who knew Eddie and Robin were so competitive when it came to twister?

They don't seem to hear me over their loud trash-talking. Robin cackles loudly as she manages to contort her body somehow to get her arm onto a green circle. " It's alright, old man. You can give up now. We all know you've got fragile bones. "

" Shut the fuck up. You're just salty I kicked your ass at uno. " Eddie's voice dies down as I make it outside.

Outside is cold and quiet but it's a nice change from the loud environment inside. It's pretty late. Everyone is tucked in their houses, away from the streets.

I'd spent the last two hours debating if I should go home. Every time I'm about to say I need to go, thoughts about how I wouldn't need to leave if I didn't still feel sad about Steve start to pop up.

" Can we talk? "

" What's there to talk about, Steve? You sent me a letter. I read it. We're fine. " I reply stiffly.

" You never replied. " Steve steps out further onto Robins' front porch. He leans against the railing a step's length away from me.

I don't bother to look at him. " I didn't feel like it. I'm not into the whole letter thing. You know that. "

I've never been a fan of writing letters. It feels less personal than talking to someone else in person or on the phone.

Steve lets out a small sigh. From the corner of my eye, I spot the steam of his breath from the cold pre-winter air. " I'm sorry. "

" You broke my heart, Steve. " Anger bubbles in my chest. " You fucking broke it. Why did it take you so long to write to me? Why didn't you try to call? " I look over at him.

" I didn't know where you lived. You moved across the country, how was I supposed to get in contact with you? " Steve asks, his eyes staring into mine.

" That's bullshit Steve and you know it. If you really fucking wanted to you would've tried to get ahold of me. I was still at home the entire summer after graduation. You could've asked my mom for my number or-fuck even my address. You had options and you chose not to do anything. How am I supposed to believe you? " I feel my face heat up from anger.

" Admit it, Steve. You sent me that fucking letter because you feel guilty. You're ashamed of yourself. You wanted to smooth things over, make yourself feel better. Well, I'm sorry, but I'm just not ready to pretend nothing ever happened yet. It wasn't just the fact that you broke up with me, Steve. We were friends. Best friends, at least I thought so. You just threw our friendship away. " I let out a bitter laugh. " And the ironic part was you were worried that you telling me how you felt would ruin our friendship. No, you did that when you let other people's opinions into our relationship. "

" I was a fucking coward, Y/N! What do you want me to say? " He asks desperately. " I lived off of the opinions of others and that ultimately cost me the best fucking thing that happened to me. " He grips the cold railing in front of us tightly. " I lost you because I was too scared to be myself and I will never forgive myself because of that. " He sighs. " I don't want you to forgive me, Y/N. I just want to know you're okay. "

" I'm not okay, Steve. I-I'm so conflicted. " I gesture to the man. " I still love you and I'm so fucking angry about it. I shouldn't still love you but I do. "

" I still love you to. " Steve replies honestly. " I haven't stopped thinking about you. I wonder what you're up to and who you've become all the time. "

I miss him too.

" What do we do? " I ask after a moment of silence.

Steve shrugs. He looks defeated. " I don't know. "

" Are you and Nancy dating again? " I ask quietly.

Steve shakes his head. " What? No. We're just friends. We haven't dated since the end of Senior Year. She's with Jonathan. "

We fall into another silence.

" I'm not ready to date you again. I don't know if I ever will be. " I begin.

Steve nods sadly. He shoves his hands in his pockets. " I completely understand. "

" But I'm willing to try to be friends again. Only friends. "

Steve's eyes light up. " Really? " A small smile of relief breaks onto his face. " Thank you, Y/N. Thank you so much. I promise this is going to better than last time. I'll treat you better than last time. "

" This doesn't mean your forgiven, it just means I'm willing to try. "

Steve nods. " I get that. I won't let you down. "

Is this stupid?

Probably.

Will I get my heart broken again? I don't know.

But we only live once and who knows where this could go. Maybe Steve has changed. Maybe he's a better man.

I guess we'll see.

Steve Harrington, please don't break my heart again. Please.

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog@queen-apple24

[flightyalrighty]

I have been here for a very little amount of time and have not invested my full attention on this comic because Tumblr is super overwhelming to keep track of but I sincerely gotta ask-

Is this gonna end good or bad? Or bittersweet?? I mean it feels like this is gonna be a looong story and I still have no clue as to how this all came about. I'm just along for the ride.

Idk, you don't gotta answer that last question. I guess I just want a rundown of the information that you CAN give me without giving anything important away. More so information on those brain-eating ravage tick things.

And also what was the demonic thing about a while ago? I saw an ask talking about satanic thing-a-majigs present in this comic and I don’t really know what they're talking about? Is it the violence? The weird chant that Shadow and Rouge spoke (which I'm assuming is what turns the ravage side on)? Or was that just propaganda?

Anyway, thank you for your time and seriously, I am super invested! The leading to what the piss happened before Sonic got taken over by those brainwashing bug things is insane! I have no idea who this elephant is but he has something to do with it! There is a lot to unpack right now and all I can hope is that Shadow did NOT kill Rouge just for the simple pleasure of not having to see him go through that trauma again thank you very much 🙏

..Well, he already is but let's just hope that she's only in some induced coma because I really love how you did her character so I would love love LOVE to see here come back in one piece!... or maybe missing a few pieces as well if that's the case-

I'm not picky 😂

Gonna break this into segments where I answer the individual parts of this ask!

Q: Is this gonna end good or bad? Or bittersweet?? A: Yes

Q: What was the demonic thing about a while ago? A: Some hyper-religious freak tried to use my fan comic as some kinda evidence that Shadow The Hedgehog, the character, is satanic (iirc). Something to do with the cut he got on his head. I'm not going further into that, it's well behind me.

Invested in my comic but you don't know the name of my elephant! Maybe you should get a lil more invested then!

For folks with issues reading the comic on Tumblr, I have it all up on Comicfury as well for easy binge-reading and a bigger page on your screen.

[letterex-fyofm]

hq first years playing basketball hc

Because after that one haikyuu CD drama of class 3 vs class 4, my head has been swarming with ideas and scenarios and I couldn't let another year pass without writing them down.

btw, this is as if they were in P.E class and playing a silly basketball match.

Kageyama

would absolutely try to set the ball into the hoop. He would like, win five points straight by setting until the other team started complaining about how that was illegal

he would still pass the ball as if doing a horizontal set though.

gets a bit thrown off because his opponents are LAUNCHING at him instead of standing two good meters away from him behind the safety of a net

again with passing, he just would be so analytical about who to pass? and his teammates would be like "JUST PASS THE BALL" but it is so difficult for him to focus when the ball is repeatedly trying to get taken away from him that he just passes it to whoever is next

one time, that person was tsukishima (other team) and kageyama almost died of frustration

he is the type to be setting the basketball while in breaks. he will later try to set a volleyball and ricochet it straight up to the ceiling and be surprised at how light it is

Hinata

he's so damn fast. like, he will be on the other side of the court in the blink of an eye.

walks a lot, though. he's teammates both hate him and love him.

soooo good at taking the ball from others. until tsukki calls him a bug that has to crawl to play (kageyama thought it was very funny)

after that, he starts competing with kageyama (who is on his same team) on who can score the most points (kageyama wins and hinata insists his first five points by setting do not count)

when he is on the bench, he will cheer for his team so loudly and have the time of his life.

volunteers to be the one jumping for the ball at the start of each...set? idk the name 😭😭😭. his team doesn't let him, tho.

once, he receives a pass. it hurt him like hell but he said "it was all calculated".

once, he spiked the ball, and it hurt him like hell yet he said "it was all on purpose!" with tears on his eyes.

Tsukki

he's having the time on his life watching hinata and kageyama embarrass themselves over and over again

is forced to do the jumping...and that's like his only contribution to the game.

tries to chat away the time of the game with Yamaguchi, but Yamaguchi gets surprisingly into it so tsukki is kinda standing on a corner like 🧍‍♂️

whenever hinata has the ball, he blocks it and is so annoyingly happy about it. ("try to score, shrimp, let's watch you try it" "TSUKISHIMA, YOU JEKR!")

HE'S JUST SO ANNOYING WITH HIS BLOCKING--like, putting his arms like that

he stops in mortification when yamaguchi says "looks like kageyama and hinata aren't the only ones missing volleyball--wait Tsukki I didn't mean it" (he will never forget nor forgive Yamaguchi for that)

after that, he's pretty useless (doesn't want to run, doesn't want to jump, passes the ball to whoever is closer to him, doesn't try to take it away from anyone) so he gets benched

he has a nice view from the bench though, so it isn't that bad. and with nice view i refer to him watching as Yamaguchi thrives and getting a full-on gay crisis (me too, tsukki, me too)

his peace is ruined after hinata is benched too (because, well, all students need to play and it is just a silly P.E match) he feels less lonely but he will never admit that

Tadashii

he's surprisingly good at the sport because he played it with his cousins before. he is getting way too into it.

he mimics tsukki's blocking in basketball after learning it was legal and indeed a common play.

was so crushed when tsukki got benched ("now I'm going to be all alone" "you didn't even talk to me while I was there" "THAT'S NOT THE POINT")

jokingly told tsukki (mouthed the words) "this ones for you" expecting to absolutely fail. he shockingly managed to score when he was way too far from the hoop. he blushed and died and everything and tsukki just pretended to be cool.

the type to apologize everytime he bumps into someone or does something he things might have hurt anyone.

before tsukki gets benched, he passed the ball to him and tsukki didn't notice it so he got the ball smashed on his stomach. tsukki might have recovered but Yamaguchi will never (very guilty and insisted to take him to the infirmary)

after P.E finished, he would joke and said "it seems that my destiny was basket and not volleyball after all." hinata was not amused. yachi was seriously worried that yamaguchi would leave and gave him a whole stuttered speech. yamaguchi had to assure her like ten times that he would, in fact, not leave the club.

the basketball captain tries to recruit him though. it only makes his rivalry with daichi grow.

Yeah, this whole thing could have been written in fic format, but I was too lazy and too tired and maybe I will someday, but who knows!