#like that's not how the world works idiot

[eclipsen-smiles]

I doubt any of you want to know but I love talking about them so-

Eclipse’s version (I’ll do Chai’s on my art account.)

Any variation of “I’m fine” or “it’s fine”

Basically never. They’re/we’re SHIT at verbal affection.

Also practically never, unless around either their world’s family or the bloodpack.

Childcare.

Yes. They don’t think of anything. They just can. Their human form is small and pathetic looking, they use it for pity. (I do. I’m tiny. I look young. It’s so so so easy to get idiots in trouble.)

Favourite show: ever after high. They will never mention this. Ever.

Fuckshit. Probably. Or just “GET YO ASS OVER HERE.” With their gf…… the SpongeBob theme. Eclipse is still childish at heart.

There’s actually a list.

Nothing= anon

Friend= distant.

Name = talked once or twice.

Nickname= close

Hun/bud/pal/pet names= family or extremely close. Or if they’re concerned.

It depends on the situation. It’s a weird mix. They can be very rough, but they’re usually gentle at the same time.

Random facts about mental states. Usually things that make people feel better. (Ie; fun fact, you’re face is distorted through your eyes, so how you see yourself isn’t what other people see.)

Trust me. You’ll tell. (They’re already behind them.)

People being dumb. Or people trying to insult them. (Please. Try to. It’s hilarious.)

Always. I don’t think they know how to smile naturally at this point.

With their finger. Or hand.

Home: kinda dull, calm. Work: silent, disassociated. Friends: HYPER. ABABABA. MISCHIEF. PRANKS. alone: no facial expression.

Idiots.

Memories. Others, idk.

Luna. Believe it or not, but their version of lunar is almost MORE psychopathic than them…

Panic. Not because of the person, but because they’re trapped. (One, that shouldn’t be possible. two, agoraphobia.)

1:Unknown. 2: the astals. Specifically the higher ups.

Uhh.. eye contact, I guess. They’re fine with it, but they know others aren’t.

Hilariously, normal work hours. And taking breaks.

OHHH BOY LET ME TELL YOU- (reminder: luna is a ghost.)

Bold of you to assume they only took one.

Uhh.. random facts from plants and animals to history to cooking. They’re 600+, they’ve had a LOT OF FREETIME.

Laughter.

A “dont do drugs” pencil. Responded with heavy laughter.

A break. I pled the fifth (death.)

“Your funeral”

Heavily different because of the topic of their work. Personal= eh whatever. Work= oh fuck oh shit

.. seeing luna happy actually causes the most guilt.

MONEY PRINTING. WHO NEEDS A JOB WHEN YOURE GOD?

Silence and a glare

Family/not super close friends/people who look up to them: very calm but visibly happy. Close friends/people close to them/people who don’t necessarily hold them highly: ABBABABABABABAB

…so…many

Tartarus. “Can’t kill him yet. He still has use.” But DAMN DO THEY WANT TO. (Tar is a corrupt ass in their au btw.)

Actually nothing serious. Like… nothing. Besides secrets others have told them.

Hahehakfjkwnf. One that I have. Juggling.

Excluded. They hate having people include them just for pity. Though that’s if they know. (Same philosophy as me. Just being invited is enough. Even if I can’t come or I don’t have to actively participate.)

Depends. If the person looks annoyed it’s “what an ass.” If they look neutral or uncomfortable, it’s quickly “are they okay?” or “am I too imposing?”

Unknown at the moment.

Guilt and tragedy coping. Self explanatory

They’re quick to assume people being uncomfortable or afraid is because of them. They will not mention this.

Any. Since built in language processors, but probably Spanish since is such a direct translation language.

Shoes/socks in the house. What’s the fucking point. Take em off.

Listener. Make them talk? They’re autistic. You. Will. know.

EVERYONE FROM THIER ORIGINAL WORLD. EVERYONE. they either are still on the “glad they’re dead” bandwagon or the “holy shit he(moon) killed a mostly innocent dude.” Wagon.

Girlfriend. Friends. Family. Literally anyone they know. Hey, who coulda guessed, the person grappling with their past is a people pleaser!!

Nope. Politely decline

Hhhhhh….. past morals I guess? The old belief of corporeal punishment? (they don’t now.)

“Hun” when they’re concerned.

Self explanatory (mod is a lawyer…. Eclipse is at heart..)

The blood pack or their gf. (Too much shit has happened for them to NOT believe the pack. They’re safety is top priority)

Freeze to fight in normal situations. Straight to fight in dangerous situations. Freeze to “JEESUS” in safe situations.”

Destroying worlds. It’s their job, sure, but they’d much rather stop what’s CAUSING it.

Gf usually. But she’s back on the “hub world” so probably no one.

Eating. Sleeping. Drinking…. Self care.

ALL OF THEM.

WEIRDLY SPECIFIC BUT HELPFUL CHARACTER BUILDING QUESTIONS

What’s the lie your character says most often?

How loosely or strictly do they use the word ‘friend’?

How often do they show their genuine emotions to others versus just the audience knowing?

What’s a hobby they used to have that they miss?

Can they cry on command? If so, what do they think about to make it happen?

What’s their favorite [insert anything] that they’ve never recommended to anyone before?

What would you (mun) yell in the middle of a crowd to find them? What would their best friend and/or romantic partner yell?

How loose is their use of the phrase ‘I love you’?

Do they give tough love or gentle love most often? Which do they prefer to receive?

What fact do they excitedly tell everyone about at every opportunity?

If someone was impersonating them, what would friends / family ask or do to tell the difference?

What’s something that makes them laugh every single time? Be specific!

When do they fake a smile? How often?

How do they put out a candle?

What’s the most obvious difference between their behavior at home, at work, at school, with friends, and when they’re alone?

What kinds of people do they have arguments with in their head?

What do they notice first in the mirror versus what most people first notice looking at them?

Who do they love truly, 100% unconditionally (if anyone)?

What would they do if stuck in a room with the person they’ve been avoiding?

Who do they like as a person but hate their work? Vice versa, whose work do they like but don’t like the person?

What common etiquette do they disagree with? Do they still follow it?

What simple activity that most people do / can do scares your character?

What do they feel guilty for that the other person(s) doesn’t / don’t even remember?

Did they take a cookie from the cookie jar? What kind of cookie was it?

What subject / topic do they know a lot about that’s completely useless to the direct plot?

How would they respond to being fired by a good boss?

What’s the worst gift they ever received? How did they respond?

What do they tell people they want? What do they actually want?

How do they respond when someone doesn’t believe them?

When they make a mistake and feel bad, does the guilt differ when it’s personal versus when it’s professional?

When do they feel the most guilt? How do they respond to it?

If they committed one petty crime / misdemeanor, what would it be? Why?

How do they greet someone they dislike / hate?

How do they greet someone they like / love?

What is the smallest, morally questionable choice they’ve made?

Who do they keep in their life for professional gain? Is it for malicious intent?

What’s a secret they haven’t told serious romantic partners and don’t plan to tell?

What hobby are they good at in private, but bad at in front of others? Why?

Would they rather be invited to an event to feel included or be excluded from an event if they were not genuinely wanted there?

How do they respond to a loose handshake? What goes through their head?

What phrases, pronunciations, or mannerisms did they pick up from someone / somewhere else?

If invited to a TED Talk, what topic would they present on? What would the title of their presentation be?

What do they commonly misinterpret because of their own upbringing / environment / biases? How do they respond when realizing the misunderstanding?

What language would be easiest for them to learn? Why?

What’s something unimportant / frivolous that they hate passionately?

Are they a listener or a talker? If they’re a listener, what makes them talk? If they’re a talker, what makes them listen?

Who have they forgotten about that remembers them very well?

Who would they say ‘yes’ to if invited to do something they abhorred / strongly didn’t want to do?

Would they eat something they find gross to be polite?

What belief / moral / personality trait do they stand by that you (mun) personally don’t agree with?

What’s a phrase they say a lot?

Do they act on their immediate emotions, or do they wait for the facts before acting?

Who would / do they believe without question?

What’s their instinct in a fight / flight / freeze / fawn situation?

What’s something they’re expected to enjoy based on their hobbies / profession that they actually dislike / hate?

If they’re scared, who do they want comfort from? Does this answer change depending on the type of fear?

What’s a simple daily activity / motion that they mess up often?

How many hobbies have they attempted to have over their lifetime? Is there a common theme?

[dreamerdrop]

Julian Bashir walks a very fine, maddening line between “self-loathing imposter syndrome who knows almost everyone who speaks to him for more than a minute finds him insufferable” and “incredibly self assured and annoyingly arrogant to the point of a minor god complex”.

He knows he’s attractive, he thinks he’s charming as all hell, he knows he’s the smartest person in the room (while also being acutely aware he’s going to put his foot in his mouth any second now), and he just swings wildly between “I don’t deserve anything I have, none of this is mine, my life is not my own, I am a monster” and “HELL YEAH LOOK HOW COOL AND SMART I AM GUYS ARE YOU LOOKING ARE YOU LOOKING”.

And then there’s episodes that reveal that underneath that annoying arrogance, at the very core of who he is, he really, really just wants to help people, and if he fucks that up he WILL take it personally and hold himself responsible even if there’s no way he could have known and like. Can you imagine what his first patient death was like for him. Can you imagine what a fucking nightmare his brain must be 24/7.

He is somehow as inherently self assured as he is in need of constant validation for his ego because you can SEE him break a little when that ego fails him, even a little, and it’s just.

He’s very fun to write. I hate him. (I love him so much, but oh my god.)

[madlori]

Facebook Official

whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.”

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.” 

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

[jimxnslight]

2 and/or 16 with a sad mopey jungkook who saw oc with her new man, trying desperately to convince her to leave him for him because he just doesn’t get how she could have possibly moved on yet even if it’s been like a year or two

Pairing: student!Jungkook x figure skater!reader

Word Count: 3.1k 

Warnings: None

A/N: why am I physically incapable of writing a 1k word drabble…

“You can’t be here right now,” you huffed as you rushed along the hard concrete surface of the sidewalk, your black coat billowing behind you while your nose and cheeks suffered at the hands of the chilly air. Perhaps if you slowed down the wind would bite less harshly at your skin, perhaps your heart wouldn’t be racing in your chest as fast as it was right now, but if you weren’t speed walking away from the bus you had just stepped off of, you knew you would’ve been standing back at the bus stop like a statue, the shock of seeing the man you thought you would never see again freezing you in a way the winter cold could never.

“Y/N wait,” a familiar male voice called from behind you.

What was he doing back here?

He should’ve been halfway across the world right now, speaking flawless English to his American friends and eating American foods and living the American Dream everyone seemed to always be raving about. Not back here, in your simple neighbourhood, following behind you as you tried to make a hasty beeline to your home. 

“Y/N please, I need to talk to you,” he continued to follow behind you, much more effortlessly considering his longer legs. 

Whenever you got back from work, you would always get off the bus in the neighbourhood next to your own, preferring to walk the last few minutes in a comforting silence, but now you were regretting that choice of yours. Now you wanted nothing more than to lock yourself in your home and pretend you hadn’t just spotted your ex boyfriend waiting for you at the bus stop, the one who you hadn’t seen in almost a year. 

You picked up your pace, not allowing him to catch up even though you knew he could if he wanted to, “well, I don’t want to speak with you.”

“Why?” He whined, the question inducing a short silence before he spoke again, his tone turning bitter, “it’s not because of… him, is it?”

That stopped you in your tracks. 

The action had been so abrupt he almost crashed straight into your back, only narrowly missing the collision at the last moment. He couldn’t possibly have been talking about… no. No way. Things were still so new, they had barely even begun. How could he have found out so quickly?

You turned around, determined to get some answers, but the sudden sight of him left you speechless for a moment. 

Jeon Jungkook. 

He was standing so close to you that your coats brushed together as a gust of wind whirled between your legs, his face barely a breath away from your own. That face, with his strong jawline and structured eyebrows and defined nose, but also his pouty lips and soft skin and doe eyes. You had to look away as you took a step backwards, trying to hide the old feelings starting to rise to the surface of your exterior. 

“Who is him?” You asked, your tone a lot less bitter than you would have liked. Maybe if you were mean, he would leave you alone, but it wasn’t in your nature to be like that, especially to Jungkook despite everything that led to your breakup.

A brow on Jungkook’s face raised, as if he wasn’t sure if you were serious or not, “you know who I’m talking about.”

“No, I don’t.”

He sighed, taking a second to gather himself, “your new boyfriend, Y/N. That’s who I’m talking about.”

“How could you possibly know about that?”

“Namjoon told me.”

That idiot, you should’ve known not to tell especially him of all people. He’d always had a soft spot for Jungkook, never scolding him or berating him over things Jin would’ve choke slammed him into the Atlantic ocean for. But that piece of information also made you a bit wary, because you wondered what else Namjoon had told Jungkook about you in all these months, you wondered why Jungkook even cared to know. 

“Fine,” you huffed, turning around to resume your journey back to your home - and also to avoid the sight of his features -, “yes, I can’t talk to you because of my boyfriend.”

Jungkook made a noise that sounded like a mixture of a whine and a groan, as if the word boyfriend was suddenly the most atrocious term created by human beings who foresaw just how torturous it would be to his ears, before he began to follow behind you. Thankfully he was smart enough to drop the boyfriend topic, choosing instead to resume his earlier point. 

“I just need you to hear me out. That’s all I’m asking for,” he pleaded, watching as you continued to turn into your street, relieved to catch sight of your house a few blocks away, “I really need to talk to you.”

“No.”

“Please, Y/N. Just give me one chance to explain.”

You were practically jogging at this point, almost desperate to get away from the smooth lilt of his voice. The voice that used to softly comfort you through those days when you felt like the world was sitting heavily on your shoulders, that used to praise you whenever you would bring home a gold from your competitions, that used to gently coax you out of your anger whenever it felt as though your unsupportive parents had lit you on fire with just their discouraging words. That voice could have asked you for anything and you would’ve given it without a second thought, even now you could feel yourself drawn to it despite the months you two have been apart. 

“I said no,” you forced out, sighing in relief when you managed to make it up the three stone steps leading to your front door before dropping your heavy canvas bag at your feet. The stretch of silence that followed as you began to dig into your purse for your keys gave you a little hope that Jungkook had finally given up on whatever mission he was so determined on. 

It was only when your keys had slotted into the lock of your front door that he seemed to really panic. 

“I want us to make up,” he announced quickly, feeling you slipping from between his fingers. Your brows furrowed as you turned around to remind him that you weren’t the “friends with her exes” kind of girl and you’d made that very clear to him after your break up. But before you could open your mouth, he spoke once more.

“I want you to be my girlfriend again.”

He was standing at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at you with sombre doe eyes. It was only now that you could see the desperation in his features, evident in the slight dip of his lips and furrow of his brows. You hated that you also noticed just how beautiful he looked, the sun setting behind him casting a warm glow on his skin and dark brown hair. 

“That’s not possible anymore, Jungkook,” you stated, shifting your gaze away from his once again. God, it was so hard to be in his presence, so hard to be near him and not be able to touch him like you used to. You thought you were finally starting to get over him, but clearly it was only his absence that had given you any semblance of a chance. 

“Look, I know how things ended may make it seem that way-” He began, but you cut him off instantly.

“Things ended because they had to. There’s nothing else left to do except move on.”

 “But-”

“No, Jungkook. It’s over.”

It was over the moment Jungkook received that letter a year ago. 

You both obviously hadn’t known it back then, you had been too wrapped in that safe bubble of childish dreams and love to ever consider just how complicated the future could become. But then reality came along and hit those two stupid 18 year olds like a truck. 

It had been one week after your high school graduations, the two of you still riding that joy until Jungkook had showed up at your door with a large envelope clutched between his fingers. You remember noticing how nervous he looked, his knuckles white and his eyes wide in worry. You’d quickly ushered him into your bedroom, letting your mom know who was at the door, before closing it behind you. 

“Is that what I think it is?” You had asked curiously, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. When he nodded, you smiled, “it looks big, that’s a good sign, right?”

“You open it,” he’d exclaimed, shoving the envelope in your direction with shaky hands. You couldn’t understand why Jungkook was so nervous, if anyone deserved to be accepted into this program it was him. 

You ripped the top of the envelope open, eyes widening when you caught sight of a single word. 

Congratulations. 

“Oh my god, you’re in!” You’d exclaimed, shoving the papers back towards him with shaking hands. At first Jungkook had seemed shocked, his eyes scanning the document before him as if he were in a dream. But then a huge grin had overtaken his features, the realisation that this was real finally setting in before he threw his arms around you, pressing his lips to yours. You had laughed, cupping his cheeks, knowing that the dream your boyfriend had been working towards for years was finally becoming reality. 

That joy didn’t last long. 

The engineering program that Jungkook had been accepted into, which was one of the most competitive in the entire world and would allow him to work with the most distinguished engineers in the field, was based in America. On top of the generous scholarship and the promise of all expenses being paid, there was nothing standing in the way of his dream. 

Nothing… aside from you. 

You had been in one of the top figure skating programs in the country since you were a child, the chance of becoming an olympic level athlete high according to your coaches as long as you stayed focused on your goal.  

Initially, you had both tried to find a way to prevent the separation, with Jungkook asking his program coordinators if there was any way he could stay in South Korea while you went to your own program to request any way in which you could continue while living in America. But your efforts were fruitless, and soon you were forced to deal with the reality at hand. 

The conversation hadn’t gone well at all. You’d insisted that trying long distance wouldn’t be so bad, but Jungkook had argued that the two of you would eventually fall out of it. Back then the words had hurt you, that he’d had so little faith in your relationship especially since you both had been best friends before you started dating. Things had completely exploded after that, building into an emotionally messy situation that by the time it was time for Jungkook to leave for America, your breakup had been inevitable. 

Now that you were a little older, you could understand Jungkook’s perspective a bit more after witnessing all the long distance relationships crumble around you gradually, and you could also admit just how poorly you both had handled the entire situation in general. Not to mention, you’d been given a lot of time to really think it over and you’d realised just how superficially you both had viewed the issue. Had it never occurred to you that, with such a valuable degree, Jungkook might want to stay in America after University to work alongside the greats? And that you, with your entire life here, wouldn’t want to move to a different country? 

Perhaps the breakup had been for the best, or at least that was what you had concluded. 

So then why was Jungkook back here, expecting anything to have changed?

“It doesn’t have to be over,” Jungkook tried again, his breath coming out foggy against the cold air. 

“But it does,” you tried to convince him, “I have a boyfriend now, Jungkook.”

“Forget him, it’s not even serious. Come one, Y/N… don’t you miss me anymore?”

His presence was starting to make you realise that you did. It had taken you months to get over him despite how messy the breakup had been, but now you were starting to wonder if you had actually gotten over him or you’d only convinced yourself you had. The latter made you feel ashamed, guilty that your current boyfriend had a girlfriend that might not truly be over her ex just yet. 

That guilt forced you to turn away from him and grab the handle, determined to put an end to this for the sake of loyalty, “nothing has changed. You’re still there and I’m still here. So goodnight-”

“I dropped out of the program.”

“What?!” you exclaimed, snapping back to him in shock. You scanned him from head to toe, trying to pick up on anything that might indicate that he was lying or just joking around. But his eyes lacked any amusement and the edge of his lip was turned downward in that way it always did when he was being serious. 

Jeon Jungkook had dropped his dream. 

The boy whose parents had died when he was young, who had struggled all throughout his life to get through school because of it, who only had one dream of becoming one of the best engineers the world has ever known… had dropped out. 

“I thought I would be able to move on. I’ve heard time is supposed to heal, but I swear Y/N whoever made that phrase is a lying bastard because time away from you only made things worse. I thought about you everyday, about how much I missed what we had and hated what we became.”

Jungkook swallowed, suddenly looking like the shy and vulnerable 15 year old boy you first met in tenth grade. 

“I think… I think that deep down I had intentionally tried to break us up before I left - like getting the breakup over with then would be better than trying to hold on, only to fall apart slowly and painfully. But I didn’t realise that pushing you away would be the one regret that followed me everywhere I went.”

He moved forward then, climbing the stairs until he was face to face with your quiet figure. Your mind felt like a hurricane, the words coming out of his mouth only spurring your thoughts into more and more chaos, until his final words seemed to shut you down entirely. 

“I still love you, Y/N, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

“But- you can’t just give up on-” You tried to get out, but Jungkook beat you to it, reading your mind perfectly. 

“I’ll study engineering here. I don’t need a fancy American University to do that, South Korea has great enough options. Either way, I’ll make it work, it’s what I should’ve done back then.”

Now you were rendered completely speechless. Jungkook had just dropped his dreams in America and come back… all for you. You didn’t know what to feel, didn’t know how to even wrap your mind around the dramatic turn of events. Most of all, you had no damn clue what it was you wanted. 

Or rather who it was.

“Hey.”

You and Jungkook turned to find your boyfriend standing at the bottom of the stairs, his almost black locks pushed backwards and hands shoved into his pockets as he gifted you a soft smile. Then his gaze travelled to Jungkook, curiosity spreading throughout his features. 

“Who’s this?” He asked, climbing the steps before him to stand by your side. Jungkook’s sharp gaze stayed fixed on the way his arm wrapped around your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. 

“This is Jungkook,” you managed to say, although you couldn’t admit anything further with all the emotions whirling through your mind, “Jungkook, this is Yoongi. My boyfriend.”

Yoongi gave him a nod, though you could tell the lack of description left him curious as to who Jungkook was.

“Is he coming inside or…?” He asked.

There was a beat of silence, and honestly a part of you was glad Yoongi was here. Glad that the moment hadn’t stretched enough that you might have actually given Jungkook’s proposition an answer. Whether it was because you were afraid you might have said yes, or might have said no, you didn’t know. 

“No,” you finally answered instead, taking a breath to pull yourself together, “he was just leaving actually.”

Jungkook didn’t move, doe eyes trying to meet your lowered gaze. You could tell your words must have hurt him, but you also knew that he wouldn’t take much offence to it just yet because this won’t be the first time he’ll approach you. You’ve known Jungkook for years, and you knew that he put immense effort into getting what he wanted. Not to mention there was something in his eyes too, a firm kind of determination that told you he wasn’t going down without a fight. 

A hesitant breath escaped Yoongi’s lips, seeming to pick up on the weird tension in the air between you both. 

“Alright, we should get going then,” he said, pushing the front door open while he guided you inside the house, “it was nice meeting you, Jungkook.”

You were glad Yoongi was there to pull you away from the situation, because you were sure you wouldn’t have had the strength to do it on your own. The lack of Jungkook in your presence was starting to allow your sense to flood back into your mind, chastising you for even thinking of something so crazy. 

And yet, despite the sense returning to you, you couldn’t deny this feeling of yearning that had settled into your heart - or maybe it has always been there and you’ve just been ignoring it ever since Jungkook left. Either way, you hope for your sake that you don’t ever meet Jungkook again. 

Because when you really thought about it, when you began to question every one of your feelings and desires, you always found your mind jumping back to Jungkook without fail. You hated that you spent a year trying to forget him, and one appearance from him had you back to square one. You hated that he still had such a huge effect on you, and that you were still so embarrassingly weak for him.

But most of all, you hated that the next time you saw him… 

You feared you might actually tell him yes. 

[justplainlovely]

@northwest-cryptid’s explanation is great, but I have some experience I’d like to add as well as a plea for any men on the left

From 2016 to 2019, I got a tad lost in libertarian/right adjacent spaces. I truly believe the only things that stopped me from going further were sexism and racism from others.

I had a “come to Jesus” moment around early 2018 when I went from “Trump is just an idiot” to “Trump is a dangerous dummy who emboldens the worst aspects of masculinity and, especially, white masculinity”.

For various reasons, I have little problem admitting I am wrong and fixing that when I am. But in late 2017, when I started engaging in what I can now label derad work, I found that a lot of men in those spaces had completely different attitudes towards change. I spent a lot of time talking with these guys. I even invited a couple of them into my bed which, in hindsight, probably wasn’t a great idea. Lonely people make stupid decisions and whatnot.

Anyway, when talking to some of these individuals and trying to get them to see the world through my “female eyes”, they had a tendency to reject my stories; every moment I was SA’ed, every catcalling story, every time a man brushed past me, every time a man treated me like less than a person (especially moments that could be excused as “but he didn’t know better”) was invalidated.

No matter how much or how often I told these men my story, comforted them when they told me theirs, and been there for them when they needed company, the lack of respect was still palpable. I was 17-22 back then. Maybe it has something to do with my age, but in truth, I know it had much more to do with my sex.

American men have a problem that only American men can solve. And that is they don’t respect women as full beings. That doesn’t mean they hate women outright. It’s just the kind of patronization that leads to weird attitudes like “women are like children and should be preserved”. It’s the kind of attitude that leads to men, whether they observe it or not, treating women like property.

And all that said, my main call to action is for left wing and centrist men. You guys have a lot of work to do. So do I, as a white-passing woman (white women broke 53% for Trump, if I’m not mistaken). Based on my experience, men will not accept help from women when they see us as beneath them. A lot of men entering alt-right spaces, whether or not they realize it, do believe in that hierarchy and for that reason it is crucial that centrist and left men engage in the hard work of deradicalization.

Got any buddies that are getting a little too weird? Talk to them. Ask them what’s going on. See what they need. Do this before it’s too late and they become a “Q-er”. Your isolation is precisely the power the alt-right weaponizes.

“Your buddies may have left you, but we don’t care what you believe. There’s many more of us. Come hang out!”

It’s that and more, so please. I’m begging you. Do ANYTHING you can.

the idea that reactionary spaces are attractive to men because they treat them kindly unlike The Left is so odd because whenever I come across that content it's essentially the same dynamic as pro ana "meanspo". if you don't know what that is, it's "motivation" based on degrading the viewer to the point where they can't "make excuses" and not become anorexic, or in this case a true Alpha Male. I feel like thisis objectively worse for someone's mental health than The Left

[levandright]

HII this is my fluff wip tht i scratch away bc i hv too many smut reqs

Summary : One of them writes a love letter to get over their feelings, but it accidentally ends up in the other’s hands. Not knowing the letter is about them, they ask the writer for advice on how to respond to their own letter, sparking a chain of misunderstandings until the truth is revealed.

What i had in mind :

-Jake wrote it to y/n

-He accidentally lost the letter while he was walking on the hallway

-The letter ended up in front of y/n’s locker

-She picked it up and read it

-Told jake abt the letter (but they r both idiots) until somehow they figure it out bc it got obvious

Feel free to change the plot!! ( I might write a part 2 from ur fic if u make it <3)

Letter of the Heart

pairing : jake x f!reader ୨ৎ content / warning(s) : fluff, they're friends, funny misunderstanding cause they're idiots(jake specifically but its okay <3), highschool au ୨ৎ word count : 1k

synopsis. when y/n finds a love letter at her locker, she has no idea who it’s from, so she asks her best friend, jake, for help with what to say. jake, being the good friend he is, jumps in—giving advice, joking around, and even offering to “practice” her responses.

ᐢ..ᐢ lev notes : ended this on a cliffhanger hehe >:3 hope you like what i did mama belle <3 cause i had an awesome time, thinking of what to add on to make it more fun.

part 2 here!

it all starts with a love letter. jake, who’s been silently carrying a crush on you for ages, finally pours out his feelings on paper. he didn't plan on giving you the letter—it just something he wrote to work through his emotions. but the next day, while walking to class in a rush, the letter slips out of his notebook and lands right in front of your locker.

later, you spot the folded note, curious, and decide to read it. your heart flutters as you take in the words—gentle, vulnerable, clearly written by someone who has been holding these feelings close. but who could it be? the handwriting is neat, but familiar. intrigued, you decide to find out.

during break time, you bring it up to jake. “i found this letter outside my locker,” you say, holding it up, eyes sparkling with curiosity. “it’s… really sweet. but i have no idea who wrote it!”

jake, obliviously laughs. “a secret admirer, huh?” he teases, thinking of all the possible suspects. “what did it say?”

you blush reading a line out loud: “‘every time i see you smile, i feel like everything makes sense.’” jake’s heart skips a beat, hearing his own words, but he quickly pushes away the strange familiarity of it.

-------------

later that afternoon in the cafeteria. you hold up the love letter, cheeks flushed as you read through it again. you sigh looking to jake for help. “it says, ‘you make me believe in all the little things that make life beautiful.’ how… how am i supposed to respond to something like that?”

jake laughs, trying to brush off the pang of recognition he feels. did he… write that? he wonders but shakes the thought away, assuming it’s just an odd coincidence.

“maybe say something like, ‘i didn’t know i had such an impact on you!’” he suggests. “or if you want to be bolder, add, ‘tell me more about these little things.’ you know, just to tease them a bit.”

you beam, nodding. “that’s actually perfect! you’re a genius at this.”

jake chuckles, putting on a casual smile while his heart races. “just call me the love doctor.” he can’t shake the strange feeling, but he pushes it aside, too embarrassed to imagine he might be her admirer.

-------------

in the library the next day, you and jake go over the letter again, trying to analyze every word.

“whoever wrote this,” you murmur, pointing to a line, “has a way with words. ‘every time i see you smile, i feel like the world gets a little brighter.’ that’s… that’s intense. do you know anyone who’d say something like that?”

jake’s pulse quickens as the words ring a familiar bell in his head. that sounds like… something he would write.

trying to cover, he shrugs. “uh, well, it’s probably someone with a soft side,” he jokes, mentally kicking himself. “maybe they read a lot, or… watch a lot of rom-coms?”

you laugh, clearly enjoying the mystery. “could be… but it feels so genuine, like they really meant it.”

he tries to smile, but his mind races. could it really be… his own letter? the thought sends his heart racing, and he fights to keep his cool, feeling embarrassed that he might be guiding her response to his letter.

-------------

that night, as jake lies in bed, an unsettling thought lingers in his mind. could it actually be… my letter?

the more he thinks about it, the more familiar those lines sound, and his stomach twists with both excitement and dread. sitting up, he grabs his backpack and rummages through it, pulling out his notebook. he flips through the pages, looking for the tucked-away letter he remembers putting there. but as he gets to the back of the notebook, his stomach drops.

the letter isn’t there.

“no, no, no…” he mutters, flipping through each page again. but it’s nowhere to be found. he recalls that day in the hallway when he’d been rushing to class. it must’ve slipped out then!

jake groans, covering his face with both hands, completely mortified. 'she’s been reading my letter this whole time… and i’ve been helping her respond to it!'

-------------

as you sit in class together, you try to bring up the letter again. “so, about my response… i was thinking of adding a line about—”

jake quickly interrupts, laughing a bit too loudly. “oh, yeah, sure, whatever you think, it’s all good!” he blushes, then looks away. “i mean… i’m sure whoever it is would be thrilled with anything you say.”

you narros your eyes, studying his red face. “are you okay, jake? you’ve been acting really… weird since yesterday.”

jake scratches the back of his neck, glancing everywhere but you. “who, me? no, no, i’m fine. totally normal. it’s… totally normal for me to help you write a love letter to someone i don’t even know, right?”

he lets out a nervous laugh, mentally cringing at how ridiculous he sounds, and you just raise an eyebrow, watching him closely. is he blushing? you wonder, putting the pieces together bit by bit. but you don’t say anything yet, waiting for the right moment.

-------------

the next day, you read the letter over again, something finally clicking. as you recall jake’s reactions, the strange look in his eyes every time you talked about the letter, you suddenly realize the truth.

the next day during lunch, you turn to jake, a small knowing smile on your face. “jake… i have a hunch. about who wrote the letter.”

jake’s heart stops. “oh? who… who do you think it is?”

your eyes search his, twinkling with a new understanding. “i think it was… you.”

jake’s eyes widen, and his mouth opens, but before he can respond, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch. you stand up, leaving him stunned in his seat as you head off to class with a glance over your shoulder, you give him a teasing smile.

“see you after class, jakey~” you say with a playful tone.

jake is left sitting there, his heart racing, unsure of what you’ll say—or what he’ll say—when you finally meet again.

perm taglist.@honeybelleee @honeychocos @manaah02 @kozumesphone (open!)

requests. open!

©levandright

[citruslullabies]

what about platonic swansea or anya hcs?

Of course darling!!

Swansea Mouthwashing

Platonic (completely!!)

Pre-crash Swansea:

Depending on your job, he is either going to ignore you or talk down to you at first

He's really just a tired old man, don't pay him any mind

But he'll eventually warm up to you in a fatherly manner

The occasional pat on the back or asking you to hold a flashlight for him

For the love of God. Hold. Still.

But if you're friends with Daisuke, which lets face it, you probably are

He probably warms up to you a little faster

Swansea is annoyed by Daisuke sometimes sure, but he's like family

And seeing you two goof around, it brings a small smile to his face

.. untillll he barks orders at you guys

Classic dad behavior

You and Daisuke were goofing around with tools and such, with Daisuke pretending to be a Pikachu with a faulty electrical wire he was supposed to be fixing. You snorted while leaning back and grabbing a wrench, pretending to be a Cubone and gently bop him on the head. Swansea watched from a distance, sighing from how early it was but smiling at how you two managed to make anything a game. Even if you both got side-tracked by it. He cleared his throat and returned to a neutral expression, putting a hand on his hip. "Both of you get back to work! You two and your stupid pokemon.." he'd grumble, watching you both scurry back to work. Both of you were his idiots.

He also will not understand any references at all you make

"pop off queen" "what the fuck did you just say to me??"

He's a goofy old man and we love him

He's also super defensive over you and Daisuke

You guys are like his kids

Post-crash Swansea:

He's more on edge

He tries to look out for you and Daisuke, but he's only one guy

When he comes across that cyropod.. he's hoping that you and Daisuke can both squeeze in.

And his sobriety goes down the drain

Some nights he'll cry to you when you're alone

He'll say that he wasted his life away and never did anything to impact the world

And no matter how much you comfort him, he sobs more and more.

He is losing it

And whenever he loses Daisuke, shit goes down the drain

And whenever Jimmy gets the gun.. to Swansea's horror, Jimmy ended up shooting you in the stomach

He couldn't even help you in time

He feels shitty in his final moments.

How he couldn't help Anya, how he couldn't help Daisuke, and how he couldn't help you

At least he doesn't have to worry about if you and Daisuke can fit in the pod together anymore

Thanks for requesting darling!

[honeybelleee]

letter of the heart | s.jy

summary - when y/n finds a love letter at her locker, she has no idea who it's from, so she asks her best friend, jake, for help with what to say. jake, being the good friend he is, jumps in-giving advice, joking around, and even offering to "practice" her responses

pairings - jake x fem!reader

genre - highschool au, bestfriends to lovers, fluff

warning - jake’s a cute idiot <3

belle’s note - this is a continuation from @levandright’s work, make sure to read it first before reading mine <3

769 wc ! happy early birthday jake masterlist

after the day at lunch when you teased jake about knowing the letter’s author, the days that follow become a playful back-and-forth. jake is sure you’ve figured it out, but every time he works up the courage to confess, you give him a flirty look or make a teasing comment that throws him off completely.

one afternoon, as you and jake study together in the library, you casually slide the letter across the table. “so, jake, do you think my secret admirer has noticed that i haven’t written back?” you ask, feigning innocence.

jake blushes and stammers, trying to play it cool. “uh, well, maybe they’re, you know… waiting. for you to notice.”

you smile slyly. “is that what you’d do?”

jake nearly chokes. “i—i mean, i don’t know. probably?”

other moments leave him just as flustered. during lunch, you read a line aloud and tease, “you make me believe in all the little things that make life beautiful. isn’t that sweet?” jake almost spills his drink, his laugh a little too forced. “oh, uh, yeah… really sweet.” you lean in, eyes sparkling. “if it were you, how would you want me to respond?” his blush deepens. “uh… maybe something simple… like, ‘thanks, that means a lot?’” you pat his arm, pretending to think it over. “hmm. or maybe i should say, ‘i’d love to know more about these little things.’ just to keep him guessing.”

each teasing remark leaves jake in a fresh shade of red, more flustered and more convinced that you know. but you never say it outright, leaving him caught in an endless loop of nerves and excitement.

finally, you decide to end his suffering. that evening, you sit down and write jake a letter of your own. you keep it simple but sweet.

dear jake,

every time you help me with “advice” about my secret admirer’s letter, i can’t help but feel like you know a little too much about how they feel. so, here’s my reply to that mysterious person who said i made their world brighter.

you’ve brightened mine too. i hope you’ll meet me by the school gate tomorrow afternoon so i can finally say this in person.

much love,

y/n

the next day, jake is jittery with nerves. when he finds the note tucked into his bag, he reads it once, twice, and then once more, his heart thundering. you… feel the same? his mind races as he realizes this isn’t one-sided, and he can barely hold in his excitement. he spends the rest of the day watching the clock, ready to run to the gate as soon as the last bell rings.

after school, you’re walking toward the gate when you hear footsteps behind you. before you can turn around, jake is there, slightly out of breath, clutching your letter in his hand.

“y/n,” he blurts out, his voice rushed and filled with nervous energy. “i-i need to tell you something. i wrote the first letter. i didn’t mean for you to find it, but then you did, and i was just so nervous, and then you kept bringing it up, and i thought maybe you knew, but you never said anything, so i didn’t say anything, and—”

you can’t help but smile, watching him ramble on in his adorable, flustered state.

“jake,” you interrupt gently, stepping closer.

he doesn’t stop. “and then, i didn’t know if you’d be mad or think it was weird, and i was scared you wouldn’t want to talk to me anymore, and—”

you place a finger on his lips, stopping him in his tracks. “jake,” you say, a teasing glint in your eye. “you talk too much.”

then, before he can say another word, you lean up and kiss him softly on the lips, silencing him completely. when you pull back, you see jake staring at you, wide-eyed, his face turning as red as a tomato.

for a moment, he’s speechless, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to process what just happened. then, he lets out a shy, breathless laugh. “so… you’re not mad?”

you laugh, reaching up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind his ear. “mad? jake, i think i might’ve been waiting for you to tell me all along.”

he grins, his nervousness finally melting away. “well i’m glad you found the letter then.”

you both walk home together, hands brushing until jake shyly takes yours, his cheeks still pink but his smile bright and wide. the teasing and misunderstandings are finally over, leaving just the two of you and a new, sweet beginning.

jake will hv an amazing bday if u like/comment/reblog!

perm taglist - @ancnymcnzjy @june19190 @wiccangirl29 @shjsnjkj @who-tf-soddhi

©honeybelleee on tumblr!

[tripleglitchwriting]

I heard you're up for writing prowl (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)!! Maybe just cute moments of reader and prowl cuddling or baking.... anything thats cute

I did it! I posted something!! Yippee!!!

This is fluffy prowl and reader movie night!!

It’s technically Earthspark Prowl, but I didn’t really do much of a deep dive into his character so it’s just kind of an amalgamation of Prowl’s in my head.

Anyway, enjoy :-)

Movie night. Your favorite time. It just happened to be incredibly difficult to set up with a guy hellbent on working 24/7. Luckily, you knew how to be creative by now. And so when you located a particularly bountiful energon deposit, a plan started to come together.

…

“Don’t.” He rumbled, “Do not touch that.”

Prowl loomed over you like an angry building, but you knew better than to be worried. The mine you’d “accidentally” found was a treasure trove of glittering, luminescent crystals reminiscent of the fantasy worlds in your dreams. It was beautiful, but not your mission. His, maybe, but not yours.

Being about the size of Prowl’s palm, you had to watch your step everywhere you went, else you somehow impale yourself on an energon shard. Of course, you used this to your advantage.

“Hm? Why? You scared?” You teased, just slightly poking the tip of a particularly sharp one.

“No, I’m concerned. You’re going to get yourself hurt.”

“What’s the problem? I see you drinking this stuff all the time!”

“Yes. Because I run on it, you don’t— it’s not even processed yet! So stop touching it.”

“Oh… I don’t know, it looks pretty delicious…”

“Are you glitched?”

“We’re about to find out!” You just about graze your teeth on a crystal before you are unceremoniously yanked away by a gigantic metal hand.

“Seriously, what in Primus’s name do you think you’re— oh. Oh. You little— don’t give me that, I can see what you’re doing!”

“Oh? And what am I doing exactly?” You grinned. He growled back.

“You have the right to remain silent. We’re going back to base and reporting this to Prime.”

And so you did. And he carried you the entire way back. You didn’t want to stay there for any longer than you had to, as pretty as it was, because tonight was movie night.

Prowl never left a job unfinished when it was right in front of his face. You suspected he would try and execute every procedure ever passed into law when it came to new energon deposits on an alien planet, even if he’d been living there for months now. And he would’ve done it right there. Standing in the equivalent to a cave full of explosives. Like a stubborn idiot.

You also knew that, if he didn’t do it, the rest of the Autobots would. Like they’re supposed to. Because it’s their job. With a mine like that, they’d be occupied for the entire night. How convenient…

…

When you finally arrived back at headquarters, he was already heading to his office. “Office” being a loose term here, as it was really just a room he put a desk, chair, and datapads in. The most basic, bland, boring kind. That was all he needed.

But not you. And you were going to make sure your plans went through.

“PROOOOOWL!!” You yowled right next to his audial receptor. He’d been doing whatever important report, but you figured it could wait.

“AGH!” He jointed up in his head, “WHAT?!”

“It’s almost time! Movie night!”

“Oh- you little fragging scraplet, can’t you see I’m doing something important?”

“More important than Terminator? Or Robocop?”

“Leagues more important than those sorry excuses for mechanical representation.”

“Oh, fine, I’ll just… put on Spaceballs…” He stopped.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would. And I’d play it so loud that you could never focus on your work.”

“Don’t—” but you had already slid down his desk, racing to the adjacent room.

“YOU— DO NOT PLAY THAT AWFUL FILM!”

“I can’t hear you over the sounds of LONE STARR and his GOOFY GANG of SILLY characters!”

He could never catch you in time. Not because he wasn’t fast enough, no, he could pick you up in a second, but because you already had the trap set. The room you’d ran into was decked out with the best projector tech you could find. (AKA, the best projector tech you could convince Nightshade to make without turning the movie into a 5D nightmare) You had popcorn, energon candy, a mountain of blankets, and quite the wide array of tasteful films.

When he finally entered your snare, you received the most withering death glare known to mankind. But everything that withers must also bloom, and you could see joy behind his optics. Mostly because they were shining significantly brighter than usual. Hah, and he thinks you can’t tell when he’s hiding his real feelings.

The fairy lights you’d set up glowed a beautiful gold against otherwise dark corners. Your face was just slightly visible, especially with how small it was compared to him, but you knew he could see your beaming smile. He let out an exaggerated ex-vent, doorwings forcefully dropping and optics rolling. Still, once he finally sat down next to you, you saw them perk right back up again.

“We aren’t watching that horrendous mockery of a movie, right?”

“Psh, I don’t even have the DVD anymore. You broke it after flipping the table. Tonight, you get to decide what we watch.”

“Wait, I… but I thought you enjoyed choosing the film.”

“Sure I do. But I want to watch what you want to watch tonight.”

And his optics grew bright again, illuminating your wide selection of 80’s, 90’s, and early 2000’s DVDs. Breakfast Club, Mean Girls, Star Wars, The Godfather, Planet of the Apes… everything you could think of he hadn’t already seen.

So you were a little caught off guard when he chose The Princess Bride. Something he’d seen nearly ten times already.

Oh, sure, he played it off as an excuse to ‘get to know human culture’, but the same could be said for every other movie on the planet. You didn’t argue.

As the night progressed, you were eventually able to get him to pick you up. For a guy who claims to dislike soft things, he sure does put up with a lot of pillows and blankets for you.

You tried not to move when he unconsciously ran a digit down your back. Or when he pet your hair. Or when he adjusted himself to make sure you weren’t about to fall out of his fabric covered palm.

You fell asleep long before the movie ended. You couldn’t possibly know that he denied every call on his comm link, shooed away any bot curious enough to crack open the door, and completely forgot about the report that had been oh so important earlier.

You also couldn’t know that, had he wanted to, he could just turn his audials off if he didn’t want to hear you watch Spaceballs. He could’ve left you at the base when he realized you’d stumbled upon an energon mine. He could’ve made you leave his office when he worked on his reports. But he didn’t. He didn’t because the minuscule weight you provided in his servos was everything he needed.

Work could wait just a little longer. Tonight was movie night.

[gogodollie]

what if sister imperator had arrived to papa nihil’s show earlier. what if he saw her in the crowd during moac and was just smiling up at her like a fucking idiot because he loves his girlfriend sooooooo much. what if imperator had the chance to tell nihil about the pregnancy and he kissed her face one million times. what if nihil was so excited to have an ugly baby with sister and have a little family with someone he genuinely loves more than the world itself. what if nihil couldn’t keep his hands off her bump and presses his face against her belly to talk to baby copia in there about how he can’t wait to meet him. what if nihil was holding baby copia and crying because he looks so much like the love of his life. what if nihil was the one that sang baby copia lullabies when he was restless. what if nihil was the parent that copia clung to at all times and toddled after him all over the ministry while him and sister are supposed to be working. what if nihil always joined tiny copia during his naps because he didn’t want him to feel alone. what if nihil was the one to took him out to the theaters to watch all the nerdy action movies that sister doesn’t like. what if they had the little family they were meant to have…………

[softfeedee]

your candidate lost, get over it and work for a better 2028 and stop bellyaching like a typical whining snowflake sensitive liberal idiot who lives in a bubble and has no idea how the real world works.

This is my blog and I don’t want hateful people like you interacting with me. Turn off anonymous and say it again so I know who to block, coward.

[shirefantasies]

hi, feeling nervous to ask so I’m sending this anon

If you haven’t already, could you do a hurt/comfort imagine? Like YN is hurt, either from a fight, ptsd, poor health etc, and imagine the types of comfort?

thank youu 💜

Sure! Since no character was mentioned I chose one and went a mental health route, hope that's ok! A comfort character fr though 🥺

Safe Right Here- Faramir x F!Reader (Drabble)

Warnings: angst (with comfort), past emotional abuse, mentions of self-destructive thoughts

One word. One word was all it took sometimes. A single phrase could push one off the precipice of memory. A chasm dark and inescapable, deep as life and death and everything in between. Such was it that when you fell, you wondered why you had ever been alive in the first place. Why one who failed to earn love was cruelly thrust into a world she was so unfit for. Why being called a maker of twisted, idiotic mistakes felt so akin to being dubbed the mistake itself.

So many things seemed to come naturally for all but you. Behaviors and unspoken rules. You needed them spoken, and when they were it was often done mockingly or in annoyance. Perhaps they were right- you simply were a burden.

"What is wrong?"

"N-nothing," you stammered, realizing how foolish you must have looked with tears pouring down your reddened face, "Nothing that matters."

"It matters," Faramir replied, kneeling at your side, "If it is bothering you. It matters to you. And it matters to me.”

Something about his emphasis, the way Faramir could speak so firmly in confidence and yet so softly, broke you. Was it foolish to hear love in his words? Perhaps, and yet there you were collapsing into his arms.

“Why? Why am I so wrong?” You sobbed.

“Wrong?” Faramir tilted his head, stubble shifting along the top of your head with a light scratch. “Wrong about what?”

“About nothing. I am just wrong,” you breathed, chest heaving with each attempt to speak, “I have nothing to show for myself. No family, no work to take pride in. Nothing complete to my name and no understanding of it all. Everything is so difficult for me. Why was I even born?”

Warmth fell upon you. New warmth beyond the tight hold of Faramir’s arms, the smells of woods and smoke clinging to the fabric and leather that embraced you. Moisture. Tears tumbled from Faramir’s blue eyes, ephemeral diamonds adorning the crown of your head. Diamonds of pure sorrow. A fitting crown indeed.

“My heart shatters to even hear you speak these words, but I confess I have spoken them too. Whispered them into the darkness in many a solitary moment,” Faramir admitted, arms winding even tighter, “But to hear them like this, coming from the lips of one so sweet? I may not be able to convince you, but they are lies. Poisonous lies.”

“They feel so real.”

“Right up until they destroy you,” Faramir agreed, his head resting over yours, “I almost threw my life away because of them but I know it would be true forfeit to see you do the same. My brother would not have wished this life for me. For you. Those who love you would feel the pain of that loss every day of their remaining lives.”

“Who-”

“I love you,” he cut you off, offering a knowing smile as compensation.

“And I you,” you replied softly, nuzzling closer until his words sunk fully in, giving you pause, “Wait, you almost…?”

“Yes. For Gondor. And perhaps a bit for myself, too.”

“Anything to give them what they want and see if the tang of blood takes the poison from their mouths. But you are kind, you are wise. You are enough.”

Faramir nodded, lightly scratching your head again. Your heart warmed, spreading through your body even against the cold stone floor on which you sat.

“And here I thought I was comforting you,” Faramir chuckled, a deep sound reverberating against your joined chests.

“See how well you’ve done?” You half-chuckled, half-sobbed, giving your first tentative smile. “It is easier when you are here. The rest fades.”

Kissing the top of your head lightly, Faramir circled a hand over your back, faint pressure bringing tingles down your spine. Sensation that drowned out the buzzing cries of your head.

“You are safe with me. Safe right here,” he affirmed.

Exhaling more tension, you tightened your grip, fingers flexing against his doublet.

“Together we can find the power to make the world of our dreams one day at a time,” Faramir told you, “One day after another I will remind you you have a safe home in my arms. Let me be your shield.”

“And let me be your armor,” you murmured, finally relaxing fully into his embrace.

“Armor,” Faramir echoed with a smile, “Forged perfectly for each other. I like that. Perfect for one at least, for you suit me just as you are.”

This time he tilted your chin, lifting your teary gaze to meet his and your head to nod before he pulled you in for a gentle kiss upon your lips.

“Nothing more,” he whispered, “Nothing less.”

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[patheticpeoplesupreme]

Alternate ending where SQH presses the return home button after yelling at MBJ + I somehow turned it into a slightly happier ending(this was supposed to end with SQH being alone till he dies)(bro never moves on)

but in this oneshot, he becomes a part of the Shen family.

Mobei-Jun mourning SQH’s body… imagine…

The moment he presses on the button, he felt his heart sink with the glow surrounding him.

He was going back to his body, which was equivalent to dying. Turning to his icy surroundings, light snow falling onto the tip of his fingers, his knees unbuckle as he fell to the floor.

“I—“

—

He regrets it, he really does. He shoud have just stayed in the other world. There, at least he knows how to escape the life he had, he knows people who would care about him even if he had run away (at least, he hoped so?)

here, there was no one. His parents didn’t care about him, they’d already moved on with new families in their lives. They hadn’t even bat an eye when they found out his body was a coma.

Shang Qinghua shivered in his hospital bed, tears slipping down his cheeks, he couldn’t even let out a sound.

It was cold. It was empty. His arms were bandaged heavily, they’d told him that he had severe burns because of the fact that there was hot water when it happened.

He couldn’t write; Proud Immortal Demon Way had already ended. He… just really…lacked the motivation to ever write again. Without his most passionate fan, without his king or his martial siblings… it’s unbearable. Losing the trust of everyone he knew was heart breaking enough, but they— they had forgiven him for his final moments.

They’d let him back into the sect—! Liu Qingge had grinned at him, after all that. Mu Qingfang allowed him to nap in the medical room whenever things got too hectic—heck! Yue Qingyuan visited his peak for friendly conversation and tea!

Shang Qinghua had given all of that up, and for what???

He didn’t know any more….

Haaa…. His anxiety and fear had gotten the best of him.

There was no Cucumber bro to critique his 3000+ chapter novel, there were no ice kings to force him to stop working in the middle of the night because of his health.

It was just him. Just Luo Meihua. The useless idiot.

A mistake he made, and he will never ever be able to see his family again.

Shen Qingqiu was right, Shang Qinghua was an idiot.

—

“Hey..” A quiet feminine voice pulls him out from the grasp of sleep, his heavy eyes open wearily as he tries to focus on the new figure. It wasn’t one of those nurses. The girl was wearing a very blue casual outfit, blue sweater, blue jeans, and even a blue purse.

….?

He squinted. Did he know her..??

He knew this wasn’t one of his half siblings, they were much younger than he was. “Hh….” He tried hard to say something, but a year of unuse made it hard to say the right words.

“It’s okay! Uhm, you don’t need to speak! I’m sure you’re wondering who I am?”

Shang Qinghua nodded minutely.

“My name is Shen Yang. Do you remember the story you wrote?”

He grimaced, giving her a pained look, he knew by now how shitty it was, please don’t make him talk about it??? I mean, there was some good parts but if he could, he wouldn’t have made A Ding as the sole logistics peak!!!

Wait.. “Shen..?”

She laughs slightly, mistaking his question for something else, “Mm, my brother was Peerless Cucumber, he went into a coma like you did, one year ago. If you knew him, anyway. He hated your novel.”

No wonder she looked familiar—!

But.. huh…? How did she know he was in a coma? How did she know he was here.

He tried to convey that to her with his raised eyebrow.

“We… uhm. Originally, we wanted to personally talk to you, since… we found A—Yuan’s notes in his computer. It was more critiques about the novel,” Shang Qinghua stifled a fond laugh, Ahh, Cucumber bro… “…and so… we found out you were in a coma, just like my brother.”

—

Shen Family: finds out Airplane is in a coma and they visit him once

Shen Yang is also a volunteer at the hospital, just so she can visit Shen Yuan more often. So occasionally, she watches Airplane’s coma body, wondering what kind of person he was to write PIDW

sometimes she writes and reads it out to Shen Yuan because she knows he loved stories, even if they sucked

When Airplane wakes up and they both realise he has no home anymore,

(“Your parents..?”

Shang Qinghua shook his head and laughed bitterly, “it’s not like they visited me at all.”)

So she persuades her parents to let him stay at the house (they refuse at first, like, airplane’s a stranger, and they’re still mourning Shen Yuan)

But eventually, they pittied him and allowed him to stay.

(“I promise I’ll pay you back, thank you so much for your kindness!!!”)

After all his trauma, he becomes the quiet kid, no silly rambles, and without any system forcing him on any missions, he becomes so so antsy, so he just takes on a lot of responsibilities and becomes sick and is super miserable until Shen Family takes an intervention

Eventually they get attached to SQH and help him get therapy. And it doesn’t actually help much, he couldn’t talk about his transmigration trauma at all

BUT he admits the little things, like his parents’ emotional neglect and accidentally mentions something like “I’m used to getting beat up. I’m used to everyone pushing their work onto me.”

Which is concerning in modern society,, like,,, why is he used to getting beat up 3 times a day

Bro just really hates himself

But one day, maybe after a few long months, the light in his eyes return and he gets into a rant again and Shen Yang just remembers his brother, Shen Yuan, and sees him in SQH and

man

Shen Yang shares stories about his brother to SQH

(“He sucked at sewing.” )

( “Shut up, Airplane… Sewing is harder than it looks.” Shen Qingqiu glared at him.)

[dramatiique]

JD laughed. She had a lot of questions about this, huh? Was it really so different to what she was used to. Well, she had that rich girl air about her, so it didn't come as a shocker to know that the very concept of a Slurpee and a hot dog was kinda alien to her. It was fucking funny, though.

"It's like willingly walking yourself into a sugar coma, yeah. And when you drink it quick, it hurts like hell because of the brain freeze." But that's what it made it fun. Yeah, kind of a weird way to have fun, but you had to take what you could get in this rotten world.

He arched a brow when her stomach rumbled, and grabbed a cup. "Okay, enough talking about it. Here, I'll recommend a simple mix for your first go." Cherry and blue raspberry. "You like coke? You can add it if you want a bit more of a tang. Or you might be more of a mango mix type of girl, but with the cherry and raspberry, that could be a risky move." JD spoke about Slurpees at 7-Eleven as if he were playing chess as a grandmaster — he just knew what worked and what to avoid.

"As for the dogs, you have your classic ketchup and mustard, but sometimes the mustard feels a bit much with the Slurpee combo. Sweet relish is a good add-on, though. Something about it just ties all the flavors together. Trust me on this." With the two of them sorting out their hot dog situation, the cashier looked on in amusement at what appeared to be a lesson in all things 7-Eleven.

Once their main food and drink combo was decided, JD turned to scan the shelves. Immediately finding what he wanted, he snatched up a share bag of milk chocolate pretzels. "And to finish it off, dessert." Was it obvious that this had been his way of surviving for most of his life? Before he'd learned how to cook, he'd lived off this stuff as his main food source because he'd rather eat out of a convenience store than suffer through his old man's sad attempts at cooking. Not that the idiot ever cared to learn, preferring to just shove cash at his son to look after himself while he went off to get drunk somewhere. A win-win for both.

"Okay, that should about do it unless you want anything to take home for later as a memento of this weirdly wholesome moment we've shared." And he didn't tend to do wholesome, but fuck. A first for everything, he supposed.

is she? faye forgets - but then it hits. she's always been someone who could barely stand an inconvenience with somebody else there. she only really cared for resilience on her own, when she had to... or when the only opportunity for resolving her bigger problems were the men around her. FORGET THAT! she could handle those things all on her own, but minor issues? oh, she'd rather have someone else handle those for her! stomach rumbling, expression stitching. fuck. "kinda. i mean..." trailing off, the girl looking around, halfway amused or disgusted, the point is hard to pull.

"what do you even EAT at a place like this?"

these were nothing like the airconned fortresses and corner staples back in singapore. people didn't eat like they did there, where street food and convenience food culture was king. here? it seemed more about chemicals and convenience, a fact that faye wasn't entirely convinced AGAINST when he brought up his options of choice, following after him with an air of miffed confusion. "wait. what do you put on top of them?"

( this is the part that she really feels it. SPOILED. and embarrassed for it. )

for now, she stares, half bewildered by his sudden confidence in this. fine. let him have it. is this an american thing? she wants to ask, peering at it and trying to SWALLOW the thought that the highlighter yellow, blue and red of it all was something edible and not like, pure diabetes. sure. sure! why the fuck not. "ummm, wait, you mix them? how do they..." charge. whatever. she's squinting but pulling it closer. "so what's this taste like other then like, getting slapped in the face with sugar? and like... then is the hot dog to balance it out or something?" it's almost comical, how earnest the question feels to her. her stomach rumbles. fuck it. she'd eat dog food at this point.

- @dramatiique

[eccentriccryptid]

I'm such a bad business student because all the time I'm like 'who the fuck cares???'

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.