#and phil fucked about and found out by stepping in

[sebscore]

GOSSIP GRID

pairings: pierre gasly x driver!reader / charles leclerc x driver!reader / yuki tsunoda x driver!reader

warnings: mention of sex and the whole piastri x alpine drama.

author’s note: this idea was dropped in my inbox, so thank you to the person that submitted it! I hope you like it!

• • • • • • •

“Oh my god, Gasly! You’re never gonna believe this- oh, hey Yuki. Charles.” Y/N found them in front of the Alpha Tauri hospitality.

They greeted her back. “Hi, Y/N!” “What’s going on?” Yuki simply giving her a small wave.

“I just found out about something, but you can’t tell anyone!” The young woman unsubtle looked around them, scanning if anyone was eavesdropping on their conversation.

Charles, Yuki and Pierre’s face immediately turned serious at her words, taking a step closer to her.

“Allegedly, Alpine are going to announce Oscar Piastri as their new driver for the next season over the summer break.” Y/N whispered to them.

Charles furrowed his eyebrows and Yuki glanced at an unimpressed Pierre. “That’s it?”

“That’s it?” She mockingly copied him, “of course that’s not it, you bimbo.”

“The problem is that apparently McLaren want to sign him for the next season and Oscar is actually considering it.” She continued, looking at their reactions as she finished the whispers she had heard.

The three of them looked at her wide-eyed, not believing what they were hearing. “That can’t be true.” The Monegasques said, shaking his head.

“Yeah, and McLaren already have their two drivers for the next season, that wouldn’t make any sense.” Pierre concluded, finding it weird that McLaren would drop one of their drivers for a rookie.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders, simply chorusing what she heard from her “sources”. “That’s that I was told.”

“Yeah, but you believe anything if it’s any form of drama.” Pierre argued.

“That’s not true.”

“Y/N, remember when that rumour went around that you were pregnant? You literally believed that even thought you hadn’t had sex in months.” Charles added, pleading Pierre’s case that the woman was gullible.

She gasped as Charles’ words left his mouth, making the Japanese man next to her chuckle. “Hey! There was that girl on Dr. Phil that said she was pregnant by Jesus, you never know what can happen!” She defended herself, even though there was some truth to the drivers’ claims.

“But I am serious about this! You’ll see when that announcement is made that I’m right.” Y/N smirked, pointing her finger at herself and walking away.

“The girl's crazy.”

“She’s gonna get herself in trouble one day.”

“[BREAKING] Oscar Piastri drives for Alpine in 2023!”

“Oscar Piastri denies he will be driving for Alpine next year!”

“Piastri allegedly to sign contract with McLaren to succes Daniel Ricciardo!”

The headlines sounded, the summer break being bombarded by F1 drama.

The two French speaking men who had condemned their female friend for believing anything and everyone, were absolutely shocked that every single thing she had told them was actually true.

As soon as Oscar had send out his tweet, claiming that he wasn’t going to drive for Alpine, Pierre called her.

“Okay, how the fuck did you actually figure that out?”

Y/N loudly laughed, like a super villain would do. “Oh, now you believe me, Gasly? What were you saying a few weeks ago again? That I was gullible?”

“Alright, alright… I was wrong, I’m sorry.” He apologized. “But just- how?”

“Look Pierre, when you’ve got a pretty face like mine, it’s not that hard to get information out of people.” She smirked over the phone.

The Frenchmen couldn’t help but give her credit, she knew how to get stuff done. “Well, I’m impressed, Y/N. I wouldn’t have been able to do that.”

“… if that’s your way to get me all like “oh no, Pierre, you’ve got a pretty face too” forget it!”

“I tried.”

#f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fics #formula 1 fic #f1!drivers x fem!driver #f1 x oc #charles leclerc x oc #pierre gasly x oc #yuki tsunoda x oc #charles leclerc x reader #pierre gasly x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader

[makeyoumine69]

Starfall (commission)

— PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x Fem!Reader

— SUMMARY: Ever since he was a kid, Patrick always had everything he wanted. Always egoistical and entitled, he always took everything he had for granted. But what happens when one day his entire world falls apart when he receives a call?

— CONTAINS: Patrick Bateman's POV and no other warnings in order to avoid spoilers!😏

— WORDS: 2.3k

— A/N: Writing Patrick's POV was such a rollercoaster experience for me, so I want to thank a person who asked me to write this commission. Love you guys, I hope you like it!💗

— LINKS: [MASTERLIST] [COMMISSIONS] [AO3] [buy me a coffee]💓

The sudden knock on my office door made me frown in annoyance, as I was in the middle of listening to the new Phil Collins tape. Slowly, I removed my headphones and turned to look at Jean, her expression was something between sorrow and shock. 

"What is it?" I ask, straightening my red tie.

"P-Patrick... I got a call from..."

Jesus, why do women always need to be so slow?

"A call from?" I repeated, crossing my arms in a mannerly way, without missing a chance to check my gold Rolex.

"From the hospital." She blurted out quickly before dropping her head.

I still didn't understand why she looked so sad, so I leaned back in my chair and let out a tired sigh.

"So you interrupted me because some asshole dialed the wrong number?" I pointed at my phone, enjoying the way she got embarrassed. "When I have a break, it means I don't exist to anyone, even you, Jean. How many times have I told you that?"

"It's about (y/n)," something heavy fell in my stomach. "They called to say that she got in a car accident, and they found your office number in her wallet."

Her words hit me harder than a truck, and I could swear I felt my blood freeze in my veins from the creeping fear. Fear of losing you. I stood up before even thinking about it, my hands shaking, but I tried my best to keep my cool. 

"Patrick." Jean muttered as she watched me put on my coat.

"Where is she?" 

"Can I come with you? I want to help."

"WHERE IS SHE?" I didn't even notice my voice getting loud, but when I saw Jean's frightened glance, a shaky breath escaped my lungs and I closed my eyes for a second. "Sorry."

"I... it's okay, I understand." She carefully handed me my scarf, which had accidentally fallen, and I hadn't even noticed. "I wrote down the address."

In addition to my scarf, she gave me a piece of paper with her note, I could barely control myself now that I realized what was happening was real.

"Thank you, Jean." I mumble, buttoning my coat and taking my briefcase. "For everything."

The taxi ride took only 20 minutes, but to me it felt like an eternity, and when I finally saw the outline of the hospital, I let out a nervous breath and got out of the car. I paid the taxi driver double what I had to, but I didn't care.

With every step I took, my heart was about to burst through my rib cage, it was beating so fast that it even hurt, and I felt so helpless and miserable under the weight of circumstances that I found it difficult to even open the main door.

Inside the hospital, time seemed to stop for me. I looked around, trying not to panic, and rushed to the reception desk, almost bumping into a nurse on the way.

The receptionist noticed my anxiety and overtook me, asking in a calm voice, "How can I help you, sir?"

"I... I'm looking for (y/n). I was informed that she's here." I said hesitantly, leaning on the reception desk.

"One moment, please." The middle-aged lady replied, fixed her glasses and picked up the phone to make a call.

To be fair, I tried not to listen to what she was saying, doing my best to distract myself from thinking about the worst, as if the worst hadn't already happened. Fuck, I'm such a mess.

"Sir?" 

I shrugged at the receptionist's voice and cleared my dry throat. "Sorry. What did you say?"

"The patient you asked about. Her condition is stable now, but she's in a coma. And we can't say when she'll—" 

"Can I see her?" I interrupted, my emotions finally taking over.

The lady sighed, but said nothing.

"Please," the grief and despair were eating me from the inside, and I was about to lose myself at any moment. "I need to see her and talk to the doctor!"

"I completely understand your feelings, sir," she held out her hand in a reassuring gesture. "I'll see what I can do. Please wait here."

In a few minutes I was walking down the long, dimly lit corridor, accompanied by several nurses. I had never been more scared in my life, I could feel my heartbeat pounding against my ears as my blood rushed through my veins as if I were about to jump off the top of the Empire State Building.

When one of the nurses stopped near the door to what I assumed was your medical room, I took a deep breath and closed my eyes for a few seconds. No, I was not prepared for what awaited me behind that door, but was it possible to be prepared at all?

Suffocating, I managed to open the door and walked in, all my insides tightened the moment I saw you lying on the hospital bed, your face looked so peaceful, even with the oxygen mask on, you were like a sleeping beauty.

At first I didn't know what to do, so I just stood by the door for a while, and only then did I dare to approach your small, motionless form. Cautiously, as if afraid to wake you up, I sat down next to your bed and I thought my eyes were already beginning to water.

"Hello, dear." I murmured sadly, slowly running my hand along the edge of the bed. "I... I'm here now, and everything's going to be okay. I promise you."

I felt stupid because I knew you couldn't hear me, but still, my urge to assure you that everything would be fine didn't seem strange to me. I brushed away a single tear that ran down my cheek, which you always loved to stroke, and looked at your face, wishing for a moment that I could remove this mask and press my lips to yours. I damned myself for not doing it more often when you were around. God, why did I always have to be so stubborn and arrogant?

"(Y/n), you've always been so kind to me, and you've never asked for anything in return… and I probably didn't appreciate it as much as I should have." I paused when my trembling hand found yours, and then I stared down at it. Every time I noticed how tiny your palm was compared to mine, it made something inside of me quiver.

Cursing myself, I sobbed pathetically and squeezed your hand. "And you never tried to change me or fix me, you accepted me as I am, but... but you never knew what terrible things I did! Jesus!" I was getting hysterical, but now I could no longer hide my emotions. Hateress cursed through my body, burning me like a glowing iron. 

"I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry that I wasn't completely open with you! I just didn't want you to know all the shit I've done in my fucking life!" As I continued to confess, both my arms now wrapped around your fragile frame, I laid my head on your chest, feeling your steady breathing. "Please don't go... I can't do this alone."

The beeping of the medical equipment mixed with my own whimpering, and the whole word seemed to be reduced to this small medical room, where a psycho like me was drowning in the swamp of grief.

"Maybe I'm a sick guy, but I need you more than I ever imagined," I gritted my teeth in disgust. "God damn it! I'm so fucking selfish, even now I only think about myself... I'm so fucking—"

The sound of the door opening made me almost choke. Hesitantly, I fixed my disheveled hair and wiped away my tears before turning around to see a guy who was probably a doctor, and I expected nothing but the worst. When I noticed his relaxed expression, I frowned and almost pleaded:

"Tell me she's going to be okay."

The doctor paused and looked through the papers in his hands. "According to our tests, we expect her condition to get better in a few days."

A small drop of sweat fell from my forehead the moment I heard those words. With a sigh of relief, I quickly got up from the chair and stumbled over to the doctor.

"Thank you," I managed to say, trying to shake his hand, but my body did not seem to listen to me. "If you need anything, let me know. I'll do everything I can."

The doctor nodded. I sat next to you again and mumbled that you were going to be okay. The way I was talking reminded me of the times when you couldn't sleep, and I lulled you by telling you stories where we would run away and finally be alone together. In the end, that would happen, I wouldn't let anything take that away from us, and even if I had to go to hell, I would do it. 

"I'll always be here, love," I murmured, kissing the top of your palm. "Please come back."

One of the reasons I was really proud of my apartment was the view, even if it didn't overlook the park, you loved it and that was all that mattered. 

Trapped in my thoughts, I stood next to the wide window in my living room and watched the night city through the open blinds. I could still feel your sweet scent on my skin, I could still hear the lewd sounds of us making love just a moment ago. Smiling, I closed my eyes and returned to the pleasurable images in my head, even though you were only a few feet away, lying in my big bed, I already missed you, but I would never tell you that.

I didn't know how long I stayed like this, but when I noticed your half-naked figure in the doorway of my bedroom, I gasped because I couldn't resist how beautiful you were, especially when you looked at me like that, with your deer-like, devoted eyes.

"Can't sleep?" You asked me, yawning a little and hugging yourself.

I grinned again, hiding my hands in the pockets of my gray sweatpants. "I'm just trying to understand why do you find this view so special," I crooned in a seductive voice. "But since you're awake, maybe you'll explain it to me?"

You gave me a mischievous grin, and I didn't even have to beckon you over as you slowly approached me, wrapped your elegant arms around my torso, and I purred in response. I didn't really like hugs, but when it came to YOU, it was a different story.

"Well, usually at night you can see some shooting stars," you murmured, still pressed against my chest. "And every time it happens, I make a wish."

For God's sake! Your naivety and innocence always struck a chord in my heart, making me grin like an idiot, though I was glad you couldn't see me right now, as I held you close, stroking your back and breathing in your scent, which had become so tranquilizing to me.

"Oh! Look!" You suddenly exclaimed, moving closer to the window. "A falling star!"

"Where?"

"Right there!" You took my hand and pointed to the spot in the midnight sky.

I laughed, admiring how excited you were, sometimes I thought you would never grow up and that was something cute, I could even say I was really jealous because I never allowed myself to act like that.

"Patrick, we should make a wish!" 

"Like what?"

"Just think of something that you want to come true," you continued to bubble, frowning a bit as you probably were thinking about the list of wishes you might have. "Think, Patrick!"

Your childish attitude made me sigh as I rolled my eyes. "All right, all right. I want this moment to last forever."

"Why did you say that out loud?" You suddenly grumbled and broke out of my embrace. "It won't work if you say your wish out loud, didn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't believe in such things," I moved closer to hug you again, but you pushed me away jokingly, your pretty lips pouted. "Oh, honey, c'mon! I can't take this seriously!"

"Then I'll leave you here alone to think about it." You stuck out your tongue teasingly and slowly moved away from me.

"Besides, I already have everything I want," I chuckled smugly, feeling a bit turned on by the way you swayed your hips. "You know what I mean."

"Maybe..." You purred, making your voice sound even more seductive, before disappearing into the darkness behind me.

Only with you did I realize that I had always lived for emotions, that I had done so many terrible things because I was a sucker for the adrenaline. And you were my strongest addiction, but not one that killed, but one that freed me from my fears, my demons, my sins.

Shaking slightly, I let out a loud gasp as I felt a searing pain cut me from the inside like a fan of knives. Then I turned back to the window and saw my own reflection. I blinked several times, feeling the tears weeping in my empty eyes.

"(Y/n)?" When I called your name and no one answered, I almost fell to my knees. 

My wounded heart started to bleed, as once again I was alone. Sobbing, I pressed my head against the cold glass and let the tears flow freely down my cheeks. And there was nothing left for me to do but hold on to the warm memories of those days. 

The days when you were here with me.

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale

[writers-hes]

“get out.” (s. harrington x reader) - new version

Steve tells you to get out of the car because of a disagreement over things you both could never control. (asshole!steve, best friend!eddie, a bit of stancy, lots of angst)

old version can be found here. helpful links: navigation | master lists | rules and guidelines | tag list | fic recs

-

“It’s the same fucking thing all the time with you,” you complained. You didn’t know how you landed yourself in this again. When you agreed to date Steve for the first time many months ago, he promised that you had nothing to worry about; that he was loyal to you and that you will both work on communication. It was something that you both agreed on, seeing as you both came out of traumatic relationships that you both knew would shape your future in the long run. It’s always the same conversations; him and Nancy, you not getting that he can’t just let go of Nancy, him being jealous of your friendships with basically everyone else. It was tiring, an unending cycle of not understanding each other; never willing to do anything to manageable problems. 

“And it’s the same shit with you. You’re always fucking—complaining about things that I can’t control,” he replied, frustration in his voice. He was mad and he was seeing red. Why couldn’t you understand that letting go wasn’t that easy? Him and Nancy shared a bond from the trauma that hit their lives in their younger years. He was speeding in a residential area, swerving away from the trash bin that he almost hit. “Fuck!”

“Steve!” you screeched, a hand on your chest. “Please, keep your eyes on the road,” You’ve never seen him so mad before. Tears welled up in your eyes but you looked away, wiping them and telling yourself to stop because this wasn't your fault. None of it was your fault so why do you feel guilty? 

It was just some party, some stupid party that you both agreed to go to. Well, Steve wanted to go because his friends will be there. Robin, Eddie, and Nancy. She didn’t do anything. She was still all smiles when she saw you, excited to spend time with her friends. God knows she needed one. Jonathan had been so dodgy since he left for California and Steve was there. Steve was always there for her. Even in Phil Newton’s bedroom.  

You were sitting on the couch of Phil’s house, a lukewarm punch on the coffee table. When you arrived at the party you didn’t even want to go to, Steve was with you for a while. His arm hung lazily around your shoulders, taking a swig of some cola he found in the fridge. You were talking with his friends when Eddie arrived. You dragged Steve with you there, to where Eddie was, his arm snaking your waist to tug you in closer while you laughed at some scam Eddie had done. 

“I sold her a gram and she paid for two,” he snickered. “Drunkards are where it’s at, believe me,” 

Soon, Nancy and Robin arrived, a visible rain cloud on Nancy’s head. You excused yourself to ask if she was alright and she told you about Jonathan never calling her back. You comforted her for a while before slipping away to get some punch. When you came back, Steve and Nancy were gone. 

You didn’t mind at first, looking for Eddie until you saw him in the middle of dealing. Robin was talking to a girl named Vickie. You walked aimlessly inside the party, skipping your step due to the slight intoxication until you settled yourself on the curb right outside Phil’s house. Everybody seemed to be having fun; everybody but you. Robin joins you afterwards with a small smile. 

“Hey,”

“Hi, Robin,” you greeted, showing her your cup of punch before taking a swig. “This punch is shit,” you scrunch your nose and Robin smiled wider, taking the punch from you to drink all of it. 

“Red wine, soda, and vodka,” she replied. “Why are you here by yourself? Where’s Eddie?”

“Where’s Steve?” you spit. “I didn’t want to come here, you know. Steve dragged me because you guys would be here.”

Robin looks at you with a guilty expression. 

“Just want to go home,” you yawned. “and sleep.”

Robin sighs. 

“He’s upstairs with Nancy. In Phil’s bedroom.”

“Who?”

“Steve.” she replied and your throat constricts, that ache making you swallow thickly. “Sorry. Please, don’t tell him I told you.”

God, it filled you with dread. Worst case scenario—Nancy and Steve were fucking after professing that they still have feelings for each other.  But still, Steve promised. Right? He said that you would never get in between him and Nancy because there was nothing there anymore. He kissed you in your car after that. It was the thread you were holding onto. You left Robin with a quick “thanks” before going up the stairs. You hated how crowded the house had been. You didn’t even know which of these rooms were Phil’s until some drunk guy said he saw Steve with a girl in that room. You knocked, bracing yourself for the worst. What if he was naked in bed with Nancy Wheeler? What would you do if he opens the door with swollen lips and Nancy’s lipstick smeared all over? 

Steve opens the door and looks at you with guilt. You looked so dishevelled but Steve couldn’t leave her yet. He suddenly felt irritated at Robin who just couldn’t keep her mouth shut. He needed to talk to her about it. She needed to keep you for a few more minutes because Jonathan isn’t coming back to Hawkins for the break. 

“What?” he asked, his voice tight. Your face falls while Steve maintains a defensive stance. You were taken aback by his snarkiness. His hands were on his hips and he’s not even opening the door for more than an inch. Bad thoughts filled your head. Here we go again. 

“I, is everything okay?”

“Yeah. Do you need anything?”

“Can we go home?” you asked. You hated tonight. You didn’t want to go here at all. You just wanted to stay at home, cook dinner, and have a peaceful night with Steve for once. 

“Sure. Here, take the keys. Go start the car and I’ll be down in ten minutes,” he replied, giving you the key before closing the door again. 

You stood there, dumbfounded before stomping your way to his car. You would’ve left but you didn’t know where you were. Phil lived in the outskirts of Hawkins and Steve was supposed to be your ride. You slammed the door of Steve’s BMW when Eddie came by. 

“I can hear you stomping from the pool,” Eddie teased, leaning on the passenger window. “What’s wrong?”

“Steve is wrong,” you frowned. “He dragged me all the way here and ditched me as soon as he found Nancy. They’re upstairs,”

“Damn,” Eddie replied. Even he couldn’t provide comforting words. “Well, you’re with me. Super cool, super nice me,”

“Didn’t you sell me double the price when we first met? The same thing you did to that girl you were talking about earlier,” you asked. True but it was an old gag that you shared with him. It didn’t matter anymore. “I still haven’t received my rebates,”

“I give you enough free stuff, sweets. I should be the one getting rebates. I’m thinking of milkshakes,” he said, eyes widening. “I could just taste it! Oh, chocolate milkshake and because you’re so nice, burgers. I’ll pick you up tomorrow,”

“Eddie! I didn’t agree—“

“Yeah, yeah but you owe me.” he replied. “Also, did you know? I went to Lover's Lake the other day, right? Guess who I saw fucking in the woods. That cheerleader with blonde hair and that kid from English? The one that reads loudly to himself,”

“No way,”

“Yes, way. I saw them! With my own eyes!” he exclaimed, making you chuckle loudly. “Seriously, I had to douse my eyes with bleach and baking soda. It was that bad,” 

Steve was frowning from behind Eddie. How come he always sees you at your happiest with him? You looked so miserable when you talked to him earlier and now that you’re with Eddie you’re fucking laughing? Steve watched your smile fade away as he neared, his frown deepening. Eddie looked back, and whistled. “Hey, Steve,”

“Munson,” Steve replied. “Girlfriend and I are leaving,”

“Oh, yeah. See you around,”  Eddie replied, nodding. He looks at you and mouths “scary”, making you laugh and Eddie leaves, jogging back to the pool for business.

-

What happened tonight was how you found yourself in this situation, eyes and knees away from Steve, watching the dark trees blur at the speed of his car. 

“Can’t control? I told you that your relationship with Nancy is bothering me and I find you alone in a room together?” you asked. “What does that make me? What should that make me feel?”

“It’s not like I can just say ‘Sorry, Nance. My girlfriend is so jealous of you, she doesn’t want us spending time together. Or should I?” Steve asked, venom dripping in his voice. “It’s the same shit with you and Eddie,”

“No, it isn’t. Eddie and I are friends. You weren’t there when everyone knows you were with Nancy in Phil’s fucking bedroom. Everyone except for me!” you replied, your voice raising in volume. “Same fucking shit, Steve. Same shit and I’m so tired of fighting.”

“You shouldn’t have come to the party, then,” he mutters and you pause, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Your heart was beating wildly and you could feel your frustration at the tipping point.

“It was you who wanted me there, remember? I didn’t want to attend that party but you dragged me. You ditched me the moment Nancy arrived. Do you remember? I don’t…I’m not even sure if I want to be in the same space with you right now.” you heaved, tears springing up your eyes. You wanted to get your point across but to Steve, he could only hear how you didn’t want to be with him. Slowing down some street, you looked at him in confusion. You just really wanted to go home.

“Get the fuck out,” he mutters, looking at anything but you. 

“Wh-what?”

“Get the fuck out,” he repeated. “You don’t want to be with me right? So get out.”

You stilled, looking at your surroundings. There was nothing but harrowing trees and a lone light. You nodded, rushing out of the door and watching as Steve sped away from you. When he was far enough, you let your shoulders deflate and sobbed. Where did it all go wrong? Steve was never like this with anyone. Why did he…dislike you so much? You walked back to the party, trying to remember the way.

It was so dark and Steve knew how much you hated walking in it. You didn’t know where you were and Steve knew how much you hated being lost. There were no sounds but the creek and the hooting of the owls and Steve knew how much you hated the silence. 

Wrapping your arms to protect you from the darkness and the unknown, you walked fast. You were rushing back because you didn’t know where you were and you were scared; so fucking scared of the night. You’ve been walking for how many minutes now and you could’ve called but there were no payphones anywhere. It was just the occasional street lamp and nothing else. Would you even risk hitching a ride if a car passes by? 

“Fuck!” you cried, sobbing uncontrollably when your arm hung itself on some stray wire by the abandoned bus stop. The sting rips through your whole body and you were so sure that your arm was bleeding badly but you forged on, limping until the trees looked somewhat familiar. 

Soon, you followed the loud bass of the speakers. Kids your age spilled out of the house and you followed from where they came from. The party. You were back from where you started. You shuddered, hoping to God that Eddie was there. Or maybe Robin. Fuck, Nancy, if she was the last resort. You just really wanted to go home. 

It was Robin and Eddie who found you by the door. Apparently, there was some chick with a bleeding arm sitting by the pool who was crying to herself. Descriptions matched what you wore that night and how you looked; there was no other choice than to rush to you. Sure enough, when they ran to the pool, you were there sitting by the edge. Black tears ran down your face, a scowl settled on your lips as you shielded yourself away from the world. Robin noticed the red on your arm, rushing towards your hunched figure.

Eddie was hot on her tails, hiding you under his arms to quiet you down. He drapes his sweater over your shivering figure. Without a word, they led you to Eddie’s van; what should be said anyway? Isn’t it enough? Your friends looked at each other while your body shook with sadness and frustration. 

“S-sorry,” you managed, and you felt Eddie’s grip on your shoulder tighten. 

“It’s okay,” Robin replied, opening the door for you. You curled into her when they were settled, Eddie starting his van to drive you back home. 

“What happened?” Robin asked. Eddie’s eyes snapped towards you and she was about to say sorry when you replied. 

“Steve told me to get out of his car in the middle of nowhere and left me,” you managed between sobs. Their hearts broke, a frown etching his features. You looked so small and forlorn; so defeated and empty. “I just wanted to go home. I don’t even want to anymore because he might be there.”

“It’s okay. We can go back to the trailer. You can share the bed with Robin and I’ll sleep on the couch.” Eddie assured before driving to the trailer park with a crying girl in the passenger seat. 

AN: Thank you so much for your love on my get out fic! I’d love for you to reblog and comment on what you think about the newest version! Can we maaaaaaybe add 100+ notes? Part two is done and is coming very, very soon. I promise.

steve harrington taglist: @thatfantagirl @cherris-n-peaches @Miyababbby @munsonsuccubus @moistmocca @munsonology @aol19 @undeadgirlsworld @eddiethesexy @weaslyslut01 @captainweirdo42 get out new version taglist: @sgrantsgf @angstlover222 @madiisixx @omgvirtualcupcakecollection-blog @tiny-bird-of-sunshine @logibearhockey1 @echoautumn @shelbycillian @jadewatling22 @stargir66 @marmalaidee-blog @joworldsstuff @whisperingwillowxox @pariahsparadise @optimisticallygarbage @mosiwil @oddussy420 @heyyimmissunderstood @sierrahhh @cupcake-jj @loveisonlyforthebrave @thatfantagirl @loveisforonlythebrave

#steve harrington angst #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #angst #fanfic #fan fic #stranger things

[thanotaphobia]

stay

hello pissa nation, i'm here to declare that i'm actually in charge of canon now and this is what happens ty xo

CROSS POSTED TO AO3

⋆

Missa comes back to grab his backpack he left and finds Phil in the kitchen.

It’s an accident– he would’ve thought at this time of night the other would be asleep, but he’s wrong. The light hadn’t even been on. Phil had just been sitting in the dark, and Missa had shrieked long and loud when he’d flipped on the lanterns and found him perched on a stool staring at nothing in the dark.

Once he’s recovered from his heart attack, Missa has at least enough decorum to cough and ask: “Why are you awake?”

“Why are you here?” Phil immediately fires back, and that’s when Missa clocks into the fact something is very, very wrong.

Philza looks like a mess. His hair is loose and limp, framing a face that looks gaunter than Missa remembers it being. The eyebags he’s sporting are truly impressive. His wrists look strangely thin where they lie on the countertop, fingers clasped in a knot of knuckles. Phil looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept well in weeks. The tone of voice he uses with Missa is all wrong, edges and sharp angles and accusing words.

“I left– my bag,” Missa says. He shuffles to the side where he had dropped it earlier and forgotten it before dipping and getting distracted by the capybaras. “The last of my things.”

“The last?” Phil asks, and it’s like the last piece of twine holding him together snaps. “So you’re gone, then. For good.”

“Not from the island,” Missa says. “Just– I’m useless, I know you don’t want me here, it’s not like I’m doing anything for you.” Plus whenever I’m around you I go a little crazy stupid, he doesn’t say. He can only avoid Phil for so long– maybe this conversation was a while coming. “I haven’t lived here in a long time. And with Chayanne gone, I don’t see why–”

“Why you have to stay?” Phil asks, then laughs. It’s grating, abrasive. Missa winces.

“He’s not here anymore,” he says. The reminders of Chayanne hurt. They hurt like nothing Missa’s ever felt before. The memories come flooding in unbidden, of warm mornings making breakfast in this very kitchen, wandering around the top of the wall. Chayanne is written into the cracks and corners of this house and that’s fine, but Missa knows he can’t stay here with Phil in the same way they’ve been for the past few months. Not without something changing.

“And so you leave,” Phil says, nodding. “Okay, cool. I see– I get it. It’s fine.”

“I mean…” Missa slings on his backpack. “Are you sure? You don’t look–”

“It’s fine,” Phil repeats. Missa is about ready to run, but something makes him linger and slow down, stepping back towards the door. But Phil doesn’t say anything, just stares at the mess of his own hands. Missa takes another step back, and another.

“Bye,” he offers softly. Phil doesn’t answer, and so after another agonizing moment of waiting, Missa turns. In the same second, his heart shatters.

And then–

"No, stop," Phil says, and Missa pauses in the doorway. The pieces of his heart record-scratch on their way to the floor, and slowly– very slowly– start to rewind back upwards. "I don't–"

When Missa looks back at him, Phil is breathing hard, like he's just run a long way. Neither of them move. The words come out next ragged and scratchy, torn out in fits and bursts between teeth. "I don't want you to leave. The house is– so quiet, with them gone."

It's cruel, but Missa doesn't say anything for a moment. Just lets the silence sit between them.

"I think I'm going crazy," Phil says next, clearly nearing desperation. “I keep finding things. Seeing things. I take pictures, but they disappear. I try to show someone, it’s gone. I’m being fucking messed with, Missa, and I can’t– I can’t do this anymore. I can’t be alone.”

“What changed?” Missa asks. He still hasn’t crossed the threshold yet, caught inside. He feels a little bit like a fly trying to escape a glue trap. Like there might be an inevitable conclusion despite his efforts.

“I don’t know,” Phil says, burying his face into his hands and letting out one long whoosh of air. “I don’t– I just can’t do it anymore.”

The glue constricts. Missa feels his throat tighten, his eyes smart. The backpack that had felt so secure on his shoulders just a minute ago loosens, and then slips to the floor. He sets it down gently, taking a few short, quiet steps to where Phil sits on the stool. He hesitates, but only for a moment– Phil is clearly putting himself out there right now. Missa thinks this might be the first time he's seen his husband so honest, so distraught, and it’s that which gives him courage to do the same. He reaches out and catches Phil’s elbow in his hand, the other one reaching up to draw one of Phil’s hands away from his face. He’s surprised to see tears silently falling down Phil’s cheeks, but neither of them say anything for another long second. Missa just holds his arm and Phil looks back.

“I love you,” Missa says. He says it slowly, purposefully. The translator won’t miss a word this time. “Do you know that?”

“Yeah,” Phil says. His fingers grip Missa’s hand, firm and unyielding. 

“No, no,” Missa says. He doesn’t think Phil gets it. He changes his grip, makes it so he’s the one holding Phil for a change. “I love you. Do you get it?”

Phil nods imperceptibly, just the briefest shake of his head. “I know.”

“Then why don’t you say anything?”

“I’m not–” Phil stutters, stops, and then starts again. “I’m bad at…”

“Nothing,” Missa interrupts. He feels strangely calm, weirdly in control. This is a situation he can handle and Phil can’t. It’s not something they’ve run into together before. “You’re bad at nothing and good at everything, Philza. You are strong. It’s part of why I love you.”

Slowly, Phil leans forward. He inches closer until he’s collapsed almost entirely against Missa, his head resting on Missa’s shoulder and staining his jacket with tears. Missa doesn’t let go of his hand or his elbow, cradling him and supporting him as he goes nearly limp. There’s a hot brush of air against his upper arm as Phil says, “I need you.”

It’s a strange feeling, to know you’re needed by the one man on the server who doesn’t need anything, ever. The man who forgave you for running, who treated you with kindness you probably didn’t deserve, the man who has saved your life a hundred times over. The same man who killed a code monster and raised two kids without so much as complaining once needs Missa, the sad sack of an absentee dad who can barely hold a sword right.

I need you is as close as you can get to love with a man like that, Missa thinks. He’ll take it. He tightens his grip on Phil’s arm and kisses the side of his head ever so softly, pressing his nose to the top of his hair and inhaling.

“I won’t go,” he says. He feels the sob more than he hears it, the shuddering that wracks Phil’s whole body, and moves one hand to rub his back in gentle circles. He breathes and makes a promise: “I’ll stay.”

#pissa #qsmp #q!philza #q!missa #philza #missasinfonia #my writing

[boytoyhalo]

Fit keeps two journals that he writes in every day: The standard, mandatory daily report journal where he keeps track of weather, maintenance and activity, and his personal diary where he writes more detailed accounts of his days. Phil gave him that one, told him that writing down his thoughts a few times a day would help him heal. Fit's not too sure about all that, but he'll admit it's kinda relaxing to sit out on the rocks at sunset writing down whatever comes to mind. it's usually just pretty objective play-by-plays of whatever happened that day, but still.

A few weeks after he meets richarlyson's "pod" of parents (he doesn't question why they're called that) these peaceful writing sessions gain an audience: two of the weird seals that he keeps seeing, the ones that are a bit too big and a bit too furry to not stand out among the typical grey harbor seals he usually sees. more specifically, it's the smallest of those seals - the one with a back flipper missing - and the light brown one that always seems to accompany it. A pair of mates, maybe? but after a week or so of the seals just. sitting there, watching him write, the light brown one seemingly decides it has better things to do, which leaves Fit with his one-flippered companion. Fit wonders how it's been surviving, but it seems to be managing just fine without it and he's not trained to deal with injured wildlife, so he decides it's not his problem.

One day, Fit belatedly realises that the seal has been getting braver - it's been inching steadily closer to him day by day, until now when Fit looks up from his journal and realises that the thing is only an arms-length from the rock he's sitting on. He stares at it. It stares back at him. "I don't have any food for you," he tells it. It barks a sound at him that sounds almost like a laugh. "Don't laugh at me, that's rude" he's not sure why he's feigning offense, why he's joking around with no one around to hear it but... it's nice. it's freeing, almost, to be able to laugh at himself without worrying about being seen. The seal is tilting it's head at him like it understands, and Fit knows it doesn't, but the next night he's there he talks to it out loud while he writes. he tells it about his day, about Ramon and Richas and his weird new acquaintances - about how he's found unexpected friends in some of them. Funny enough, talking out loud brings out thoughts he hasn't been able to get down with journaling.

on one particularly hard day, maybe the worst he's had since taking the job, he tells it about the war. tells it about how he was recruited right out of school, eager to make a change and protect his country. He tells it about how no one told him why they were fighting, how the war started or what steps were being taken to end it. How he had to learn all of that after going home. He tells it about his fallen comrades, about the enemy soldiers he killed. He tells it how much it hurts to think about, that he witnessed that much death and caused that much of it himself, that he has to live with that and knowing that at the end of the day he wasn't fighting for justice or peace or anything but the interests of the people in power. He tells it that he isn't sure he feels guilty, and that that makes him feel guilty. He tells it how lonely he's been since getting back - all things he hadn't really processed or admitted yet.

"maybe that's why I keep talking to you," he says. "I haven't really... I don't know how to make friends, since getting back. Being out here all isolated... it's nice. I mean, it's nice because it's nice, but also, it's nice just to have an excuse for being alone instead of being alone while surrounded by people, yknow?" He looks at the animal, which is staring up at him with disturbingly human emotion in it's eyes. He looks away. "I don't know. This is stupid, I'm talking to a fucking seal. and I do have friends, I mean... there's phil, there's tubbo. There's richas' parents, though I'm not sure they really count. Only see em for a little bit once in awhile, and s'not like they're there for me." He goes to sleep that night feeling lighter and heavier all at once.

And then the next morning, Pac (and a hesitant-looking mike) shows up with Richas, asking fit if they can help him work today. And not taking no for an answer

#i don't know what this is dude it got away from me after the first word #ignore it #selkie au

[8-rae-rae-8]

Running, Running, Captured, Safe.

Summary: Graves is on the run after betraying the 141. He's exhausted and can't run anymore. He gets caught, and regresses in fear. Price and Ghost help him out.

Fic below the cut, but here's a link for those who prefer AO3

3k words

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53263258/chapters/134787823

A safe house was supposed to be safe. Backup after backup safehouse, yet Phillip was anything but safe. Under normal circumstances, he would have been safe. Being searched for by the 141 meant he wasn’t safe at all. There was no security each time he jumped from safehouse to safehouse, it simply left a trail. Opened and empty food containers on counters, messy blankets on the beds, still damp bathtub from showers. It left signs that he didn’t think to clean up before he was onto the next place.

The 141 had their reasons, just like Graves had his for running. Every second of his time had been plagued with a strong headache, it made things fuzzy in a way that was far too familiar. He abandoned his shadows, knowing some were dead, lost, or hopefully somewhere actually safe. Maybe even with their families, though Phillip knew not to hope too strong for that. Men like them hardly got their happy ending. With the 141 and Los vaqueros searching for all of them, it was a death sentence. Searching for Graves like their lives depended on it. No rock left unturned.

It was only a matter of time before they found him. In a shitty little apartment next to a main road, it was the only place he could find on such sort notice. Somewhere that wouldn’t be expected of him. Graves was on his own, that’s all he had to worry about. But he worried, and the headache only grew. 

He should have ran further, as far as he could go without leaving a paper trail. It was dangerous. Fucking careless. His head was cloudy, almost a static to his vision as he moved. Sleep was restless, his appetite was gone. All he thought to do was run, but his weary body wouldn’t make it under those conditions. He needed to go, find anywhere else. It just wasn’t an option as his body begged him for sustenance, for sleep. 

The bed was so welcoming… If he just laid down for a few minutes, it would be okay. He’d just rest his eyes, he told himself that was all he would do. The longer he laid there, the less control he had. His eyes closed, and his body finally went lax into the mattress. A crappy old thing, but it felt heavenly to him.

Thirty minutes, and he swore he set an alarm. But in a dream like state, it was hard to tell what was real. He let himself drift, believing an alarm had been set that would keep him safe.

Dull voices flooded through his ears as he began to wake. 

He counted as he listened, british, british, british, scottish… 

Fuck, he was a dead man. His breathing slowed until he managed to force himself to hold his breath. Phil clutched at the pillow under his head, laid on his side, curled up just a bit. Pain sputtered like an engine as it engulfed his body in quick surges until it settled back in his head. Silent. Stay silent, he told himself, as if that would get him out of any of this. He didn’t even have a weapon on him. Foolish mistake. 

Terror set deep in his bones, along with the burning of his tense muscles/

“Grab him, we’re leaving.” John Price, Graves noted. He was torn between wanting to shove his fist in his face, and wanting to cower… His eyes shut so tight it dazed him, or maybe it was the lack of oxygen. But he’d held his breath for longer.

Orders changed quickly.

“Stop.” He heard as steps approached his bedside. The fucking scot talking. “He’s awake.” 

Silence followed, Phillip assuming they were watching him. He kept holding his breath, even though his lips were probably going blue at that rate. Dizziness settled in. 

“Open your bloody eyes.” Ghost. The one he was unreasonably scared of. Something in him felt like it died, perhaps his pride. It was so far from what he had wanted when he had met them all. To end up a dead man at their hands… they’d kill him once he lost his usefulness. And to think he had thought that maybe, just maybe, they could have been okay. His orders fucked it all up. 

As much as he wanted it all to be over, and to just be home again. A knot formed in his throat as his eyes flickered open. Blue eyes taking in the surroundings, specifically where each man stood. 

Price blocked the door. Ghost blocked the window, and the sargeants stood near the end of the bed. Chances of getting out with a pure adrenaline run plummeted to zero. He was completely fucked. If he hadn’t napped, he could have defended himself.

“Up, Graves.” The captain spoke harshly, arms crossed over his chest. 

By some miracle, Phil complied. There was no choice but to surrender. No shadows backed him, he was alone without a weapon on his hip. Fear forced him into agreeing with their wishes, he could only hope he’d be allowed out… All his things were in his car, they never made it to the apartment. He didn’t even need it all! Maybe just a blanket, his favorite one. He could cuddle up with it. A few minutes was all he needed. But he didn’t deserve it. He didn’t have to be told.

The men seemed equally surprised that Graves did as told. No bullshit, no snapping back. 

A big fist grabbed him by the back of his neck, as if he was scruffing him. A gloved hand, thinning on the trigger finger. Ghost. A breath forced it’s way into his lungs, and the dizziness slightly subsided. Gaz stood almost silent, glaring daggers his way. Hateful, like he should be. Yet it still hurt, buried deep into his chest, tightening the knot in his throat. 

His rigid arms were forced behind his back, held by another forceful hand. It promised quick injury if Phil even attempted to get away. 

There was a silent exchange between the four of them, before Ghost pushed Phil out of the apartment. Walking and walking. Every hall looked the same way, he hardly bothered to pay attention to the numbers on the wall. It all blurred together, like he was stuck in fog. Nothing was clear, just the end destination. Wherever the 141 wanted him, really. 

None of it was kind, he didn’t deserve kind. 

In a blink of an eye, Graves was put into the back of the 141’s transport. A black military transport van. Phil made no effort to buckle in, and just sat there instead, eyes glued to the floor. His blanket, he wanted his blanket. He ignored the orders spat at him from Ghost, something about buckling up and cooperating. Phil’s mind was elsewhere, if anywhere at all. He felt like fog was in his vision, in his head. Drowning things out, making it all fuzzy. This was the worst possible place to feel like that.

The others loaded up and the car began to move. Price took the seat closer to the front of the vehicle, Soap took a seat by Ghost, and Gaz took one closer to the rear view window. It all felt cramped, even though there was plenty of space. No one was touching him, but he could hear them talking, could feel them glaring. Or at least Soap and Gaz.

While Graves felt genuine fear and guilt. He’d hurt these men, but they hadn’t actually hurt him yet. The other shoe was bound to drop soon. Each glance around that he took, he tucked himself further and further back, resorting to staring out a window. 

Ghost watched him, hardly taking his eyes off. Phillip Graves being scared was a new thing completely. He was the fearless leader of the shadows, never taking no for an answer. Always fighting back. But there he was, trying to shrivel himself up like a depressed plant. Or shrinking back on himself like a scared kid. That’s how he felt. A scared kid. He had no defenses, just his neglected body that could only take a hit or two before it fell apart.

Phil’s lip was tugged into his mouth, teething working one spot till it was bare and bloody. His shoulders shook, but he had kept his hands at his sides. Once his legs were pulled up to his chest, he seemed to lose all the rest of his fight. His eyes wondered back to Ghost for just a moment, lingering on the mask then looking at his tac gear. The guns at his sides. 

“You scared of a Ghost, Graves?” The deeper voice spoke, boring a hole into the side of Graves’ head with his gaze.

His shoulders tensed before they shook harder, gaze immediately averted. The dim sky had his attention next, but just barely. Graves did what he could to square away, though half his face was still visible. Hot tears poured from his eyes within a few seconds. Yes, he was scared. Terrified. The mask only added to the fear. 

A small dribble of blood mixed with spit leaked down his chin. Phil gnawed at his lip, until something in it popped. He swallowed his own blood, while one hand covered his lips and chin. 

Graves attempted to shake his head. Weakness. They were only tolerating him now, the crying would only make it worse. But the tears kept falling, dampening his face. He was tired, hungry, sore, and scared. It was a mix that would make any little one sick. His legs worked quickly, forcing himself away from the group. Not buckled up, despite being told to minutes ago.

The tone in the van shifted as the others looked towards Price. It could all be a play to get them to lower their guard, they all were thinking the same thing.

But Price’s eyes were soft as he got up. A little one in distress, how could he not? With gentle steps, he came to Phil’s side, kneeling down next to him. 

“Graves,” The captain began, a hand resting on one of his knee, “I know you’re scared… But this is important.” He was firm, but still gentle. That mix of captain and father-like tones adding a bit of warmth to the air, but Graves only shivered.

His eyes squeezed closed after looking at Ghost one more time. Phil fearfully pushed his leg out in an effort to make more space between him and Price. A small nudge, he swore thats all it was. Then his leg was grabbed and put down forcefully, his cries only getting louder.

“We don’t kick, Phillip.” Price spoke in a much more stern tone, scolding him like he was a child. 

Graves whimpered at the tone. He’d been bad again. He didn’t mean to kick! His eyes opened, just to look apologetically at Price before he saw Ghost in the background and closed them again. The mask- he was terrified of it- Ghost’s mask scared him when he was already terrified enough. 

“Phil, we’re not going to hurt you, we just need to talk.. You’re in trouble right now, but we won’t hurt you. You have our word.” Price softened at that reaction, his hand resting back on Phil’s knees as he rubbed small circles. It didn’t work the way he wanted it to, the boy just wouldn’t even take a breath.

The reassurances felt like nothing more than empty promises. He was far too aware of the reasons he shouldn’t be allowed such comfort. He had been running so long while fully convinced they would hurt him, like he had done… Though not exactly willingly.

“N-no.. wanna go home!” Graves sniffled, his bloody lip poking out from his mouth as he spoke. Just more blood dripping down his cheek as he tried to pull himself away from all the contact.

“I know, kid. I know.” The captain stood, simply patting Graves on the back. He took a look around, silently checking in on his boys. The sobs grew louder when Price finally turned his back, as if he felt even worse now. 

The skeptical glances turned to ones that seemed genuinely concerned, confused even. The attempts Price made, no matter how half hearted it was, didn’t work enough to get Graves a single gasp of air. The tears fell harder, soaking the collar of his shirt as they fell down his face and neck. The bloody lip even making a mark as it dripped. 

The movement shifted, all fuzzy to Phil when he attempted to decipher the different people moving. He managed to figure that one was Ghost, but the others were lost on him. The heavy steps told him that Ghost was getting closer though. His own sobs drowned out a lot of it. 

Ghost saw himself in Graves as the sobbing continued. Though he had no idea how small the boy had regressed, he knew that he was small enough to not be able to rationalize this at all. Taken away from somewhere safe, just to be taunted or asked far too many questions, and maybe not even let go at all. He recognized the fear. 

With hesitation, the mask was removed. Ghost set it away from Phil, as it was what he believed Phil was scared of most. A small item was taken from his pocket as he knelt down where Price had been. Scars lined his face, however, he looked.. kind. 

“Phil?” Simon asked, not pushing for an answer, nor any contact. 

“This is scary, huh?” The man began. He kept a close eye on Graves’ every movement, like he was a ticking time bomb, but not treating him like such. Regressing wasn’t always pure… Sometimes it was screaming, crying, kicking, tantrums, and even self harm in some cases. Ghost was familiar with it all.

Just the change in tone, and the simple removal of the mask had Graves at least looking at Ghost. His eyes wandered to the scars, but always made it back to Ghost’s eyes. Deep brown, with gold-ish flecks in the light.

“That’s it, mate..” Ghost approvingly nodded to him. “Do you want something soft?” He offered, a hand already on something in his hand that he held in his pocket. 

Graves sniffled as he watched Ghost, blinking as the tears kept blurring his vision. He wasn’t as scary without the mask.. But was still big, towering over him with ease if he wanted to. Right now though, he remained kneeled down at Phil’s side. He slowly nodded.

“Okay, but you gotta be gentle, okay?” A little smile made an appearance on Simon’s face. He pulled out a small object. A very tiny blanket, with a lamb head on the top corner. It showed its age, old, a little rough around the ages. But it was soft, well maintained. Ghost gently set it Phil’s knee, but didn’t let his hand linger for more than a second.

Phil was careful. His hands shook as he reached for it, holding the small baby blanket in his hands. It was softer than he though it would be. His fingers traced along the smooth fabric at the edges, then he rubbed the soft, plush fabric at the center. The tears stopped flowing as hard, he hiccuped and finally took a deep breath. The little toy was nice, it even had a silly face stitched on. Clearly a hand done job.

“It’s okay… We won’t hurt you.” That time it sounded like a promise. Like Simon wasn’t going to even let the other’s hurt him. 

It coaxed a full breath into the little one’s lungs. 

“See? Deep breaths…” Ghost encouraged, taking a deep breath of his own as he began again, “It’s okay.. I get scared too. Price is my.. Baba… He takes good care of me… An’ if you let him, he’ll take good care of you too.” He remained just as encouraging as he shared his secret. 

Graves had to take a second to process. His bloodied lip back in his mouth as he visibly chewed it, not as hard as before, thankfully. He blinked at Ghost, then up at Price. He was a traitor, yet they were helping him like family. It was wrong, but he wanted it. Needed it. God knows he needs food, and actual sleep. Maybe he wasn’t as much of a prisoner as he thought.

“P’ice is scary…” Graves whispered, his eyes looking back to Simon, who chuckled a little at that.

“He’s just a big bear. They can be scary too, but you know what?” Simon waited until Phil made a curious sound. Ghost leaned in a tad to whisper, “Bears protect their young, and they help them. But, between you and me, he’s a big teddy bear.” 

It got Phil to giggle a little rather than sniffle. The tears still dripped, but they slowed to almost being gone. Graves actually grinned a little bit, holding the little blanket lamb closer to his chest.

“He’ll protect you, bub. Don’t sweat it, aye? We’ll let you fixed up, and comfy before anything. Couldn’t let a little one walk around with a busted lip, hm?” Ghost assured him, his hand, now ungloved, rested on Phil’s leg. There were no kicks, no sobs, no whimpers.

“Uh-huh.. Ghos’ fix me up?” Phil asked in the smallest voice, stumbling over his words easily. 

“‘course, bud. I’ll fix you up, and we might even be able to put on some cartoons for you while I do. How’s that sound?” Ghost responded, the smile reaching his eyes. Though he didn’t have much experience taking care of little ones, he’d do his best. 

Phil softly nodded. With that, they continued to a 141 safehouse without any more cries. He had Price on his left, and Ghost on his right. His mask stayed off, tucked into one pocket. Despite it all not being perfect, or near okay, he leaned his head onto Ghost’s shoulder. 

Sleep was inevitable. After his last few days of restlessness, it only made sense when Phil fell asleep on Simon's shoulder, the little lamb blanket never leaving his hands.

[debating on a chapter 2, thoughts?]

Agere tag list - @little-babybell

#cod agere #cod mwii #call of duty #simon ghost riley #cod #cod mw2 #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #john price #john price cod #phillip graves #Hurt/comfort #angst #fanfic

[lunaeclipse1057-ao3]

Tallulah's Rant, 12/27/2023 Colorized

It is very fucking long so I'm putting it under a thingy :)

Tallulah's Rant: "It's horrible enough dealing with your father being away, people mocking you as if you don't have feelings. I was an extension of him for months, and I was clinging to people on the island because of it. That care, that safety. Everyone had their safe space, but I didn't. I had no purpose and you have still taken me under your wing as your own. Chayanne is your son.

The time I spent in Purgatory, we were separated. Dapper and Ramon had each other's shoulders, and I felt alone.

I learned how to fight until the one-eyed person found us and sent us to the island. ElQuackity spoke to us and he pointed out how my dad doesn't visit us often. And I was alone, and we were trapped.

Then you all came, and no one ran towards me until Tio Tubbo and Tio Charlie looked at my direction. Cucurucho saved us, and we were in a coma. After waking up, I realized everyone had their parents (not leo i think, it was a blur), and the same shit all the time, I was just not impressed anymore.

I can't force you to put me as priority, it's not correct. You are Chayanne's dad. And it is hard for me to fit, I coped with sleeping alone, I kept writing letters and playing songs. It didn't help. I'm tired. I don't want to be a burden.

And I am just done, I feel lost, like I don't have a place. 'I have so much love to offer', not anymore. I'm not the same Tallulah I was months ago. Sorry, I'm trying my best, I'm just sad and bitter."

Phil's Response: "Tallulah, I never want you to think you're a burden. You are just as much my kid as Chayanne is. You have been ever since I started taking care of you. I'm sorry if it doesn't feel that way, I know I'm not good enough. I apologize because it's ultimately my fault."

Tallulah's Response: "That's why it's worse, you are an amazing dad, and I love you, and I want to appreciate you more but I don't know how."

Phil: "You don't have to worry about that, alright? You're just a kid. Everything you wake up, every time we hang out, I appreciate our time together. I feel like... I don't know, I'm always trying my best but I feel like it isn't good enough. For me to not notice you were feeling this way, it makes me feel like shit. I never thought that you would be going through this, I thought you were fine. I knew you'd miss Wil, but eventually see me as your dad."

Tallulah: "It's fine you can't see everything. I know he doesn't have enough time to love me, but I'll keep clinging to people and hope for the best :)"

Phil: "Listen, you don't need to change. You don't need to be impossibly strong, or emotionally unbreakable. You have a heart. You are just as much my kid as Chayanne is. It just feels weird if you don't wake up with him. And it's okay to be selfish sometimes, Tallulah, it's totally fine. You're one of the few eggs who, I feel, has every right to be selfish now and again. You have a unique situation, and you should just be able to live your life. I'll be here every step of the way, through thick and thin. Me and Chayanne. Listen, Wil loves you very much, he tells me every chance he gets, but he is so busy. He's touring the world, playing his sad songs and happy songs to people. But he still loves you. I'm sorry he can't be here as much as I can, but I hope I can fill in the boots. I'm always going to be a shoulder."

Tallulah: (In Spanish) "You are the best father there is, thank you. Don't think otherwise, and I'm sorry for being so stubborn. Everything in it's time."

#qsmp #live blogging #liveblogging #qsmp liveblog #qsmp lore #q philza #q tallulah #these two are going to be the death of me #i swear to god #i love them so fucking much #but holy shit #i was writing this with tears in my eyes #it was so hard keeping up so i apologize for any errors

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

The Right Place in Time

Summary: What if Steve was in the woods with Chrissy and Eddie getting weed for his headaches?

@disrespectedgoatman @estrellami-1 @darkrose517

Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Eddie's POV

Eddie was cursing himself every way under the sun. This was so stupid. This wasn't going to work, but he'd rather be in custody than be dead, and even these idiots wouldn't try to kill him around a bunch of cops. Hopefully. His stomach churned at the thought of Fred's body twisted up like that. . .that it could have happened to Chrissy. . .that it still could happen to her. It could happen to Steve, too, and to Max. They needed to find a way to stop Vecna, and in order to do that, they needed these goons out of their way.

Eddie was driving faster than he had ever done in his life, and he was always pretty risky with his driving. They were getting close to him now, almost catching up with him. Now he was cursing his stupid piece of crap van. They were going to catch up to him, and they were going to kill him. It was like a punch to the gut. The image of his uncle crying over his body and that once again, he had let him down. He had disappointed him just like his father had done so many times. No, he wasn't going to be like his fucking father. Eddie screamed as he pressed his foot so hard against the gas petal, tears falling down his cheeks as he let out a furious sob. He pulled into the parking lot of the police station and spilled out onto the pavement as he climbed out of the van, his legs shaking. It was Officer Moore who found him.

"Munson?"

"They're going to kill me," Eddie cried.

Jason's car screeched into the parking lot, and the jocks stepped out. It seems as though they were stupid enough to still be carrying their weapons.

"Gentlemen, I'm going to have to ask you to put your weapons down," Officer Moore said as he put his hand on his gun.

"You don't understand, officer. Munson is a monster! He killed Fred, and he broke Chrissy's arm with the power of his mind," Jason said.

"Isn't he a third time senior?" Officer Moore asked.

"Yeah," Jason said.

"So you're telling me that he killed someone with the power of his mind?" Officer Moore asked. "His mind?"

"Man's got a point. I am a little dense," Eddie said.

"I know what I saw, Officer!" Jason screeched.

"I think what happened here is that your girlfriend left you for Munson, and some poor innocent kid got caught in your crossfire!" Officer Moore yelled. "Put. Your. Weapons. Down. NOW!"

"He's a killer!" Jason screamed.

Moore pulled out his gun and pointed it at Jason, as he radioed for backup.

"Munson is a lot of things, but he's no killer. I know because despite everything, when I got shot, he could have left me to bleed to death, but instead, he let his father place the blame on his shoulders and walk away while doing everything he could do to save my life," Officer Moore said. "Put your weapons down now!'

Chief Powell and the other police officers came running out of the station. They pointed their guns at the jocks who had no choice but to put their weapons down. They were quickly put in handcuffs.

"Man, Patrick was right in saying no to you," Connor growled as they handcuffed him. "You're fucking crazy, Carver."

Officer Moore waited until they were all inside and helped Eddie up.

"You're not under arrest, kid, but you're going to have to come inside for questioning," Officer Moore said.

The questioning didn't last as long as he thought it would, especially because most of the jocks threw Jason under the bus. The only who remained loyal to Jason was Andy, but Eddie figured that it was because Andy was crazy himself. Eddie was walking out of the station just as Wayne was about to walk in.

"Boy, you weren't at the trailer this morning, and I was about to send out a search party when they called me to come down here," Wayne said.

Phil Callahan and Chief Powell, along with another squad car, pulled out of the station's driveway. Their sirens wailed. Eddie figured they were probably headed to the driveway. He turned away from them and looked back at his uncle.

"Shit, everything happened so fast. I meant to call you this morning. Chrissy's arm got broken last night, and then I was at the hospital with her, and then I went with her to her uncle's house. Steve was there, too, as well as her cousin, Vickie, and Steve's friend, Robin. Jason thought that I had broken Chrissy's arm, but I did not! He gave me a black eye and tore off part of my eyebrow," Eddie rambled on.

"Hold up, slow down, son," Wayne said. "Is this Chrissy girl your fiancee?"

"Oh God, you heard about that?" Eddie asked.

"Yeah, sure did," Wayne said.

"That's just a misunderstanding. We're just dating. . .me, Chrissy, and Steve Harrington," Eddie said.

"You happy about that?" Wayne asked.

"We haven't even gone on a first date yet, but yeah, pretty happy," Eddie said.

"Good," he said softly. "Tell me about the dead kid."

"I don't think you're gonna believe me," Eddie said.

"Try me," Wayne said.

"Okay, well, not here. Let's get in the van," Eddie said.

Eddie knew he probably shouldn't be telling Wayne this, but after the incident with Al, he didn't want to keep anything from him again. So, he crawled into the van while Wayne got into the passenger's side and told Wayne everything. When he finished, Wayne was silent and staring straight ahead.

"Things have always been weird in this town, even since Victor Creel," Wayne said, after a long silence.

"Victor Creel?" Eddie asked.

"He's the one who killed his family and gouged out their eyes in 1959. Eventually, he tried to do the same thing to himself, cut out his eyes, that is. He's still up in Pennhurst," Wayne said.

"Fred's eyes. . .they were. . .," Eddie trailed off. "Do you think Victor escaped?"

"Don't know. I figured we would have heard something if we had," Wayne frowned. "You kids are dealing with this stuff without any adults?"

"Well, they did have Hopper before, but he died, and Joyce Byers moved to California. Technically, Steve, Chrissy, Nancy, Robin, and I are adults," Eddie said.

"Only legally," he said with a snort. "Jesus."

"Oh, and there's this weird reporter dude who lives in Illinois who lives in like a bunker," Eddie said.

Wayne sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I'd rip out my hair, but I want to keep what's left of it," he said. "Probably going to fall out anyway. What's the plan here?"

"Well, we find out where this guy's projecting from, and then we kill him," Eddie said.

"This guy is using his mind to kill people, and you think a bunch of kids are going to take him down?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, I really didn't want to be the one to question it," Eddie winced. "Besides, our plan so far involved finding his other victims, and we did that. Unfortunately, we were unable to save Fred, so we need to stop this guy as soon as possible before it gets to Steve, Chrissy, and Max."

"That girl's been through enough," Wayne said sighing. "How did Chrissy snap out of it?"

"She heard me and Vickie scream," he frowned.

"So, maybe it's her connection to you both combined that did it. Is Vickie this cousin you mentioned?" Wayne asked.

"Yeah, they grew up together," Eddie replied.

"You knew Chrissy since that talent show. I remember you couldn't stop talking about her," Wayne said. "Eddie, what's always been something you've been able to connect with?"

"D&D?" Eddie asked.

"Well, you can't do a whole campaign, son," he said. "It has to be quick, right?"

"Oh, music!" Eddie exclaimed and looked thoughtfully at him. "So, maybe if we find out what their favorite song is. . . "

"When you were a baby, that was always what used to get through to you when you were upset about something," Wayne said.

"I guess this means you're involved now, too?" Eddie asked.

"Like hell I'm letting you kids do this on your own," Wayne scowled.

A knocking on the window startled the both of them, but only Eddie screamed. Dustin's excited face pressed up against the glass.

Chapter Nine

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #chrissy cunningham x eddie munson #hellcheer #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington #cheerscoops #chrissy cunningham x steve harrington x eddie munson #hellcheerington #steddissy #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual chrissy cunningham #bisexual steve harrington #bi4bi4bi #stranger things fanfiction

[ilovetulips]

Can you write a Steve Harrington request where he gets pouty/jealous when Officer Callahan has a known crush on the reader (let’s say he was a senior when she and Steve were freshman) and it suggested that she flirts with him to distract him so they can get away?

steve harrington x fem!reader

the ‘house on wheels’ steve was designated to drive wasn’t exactly subtle, so it obviously drew attention from the officers guarding the trailer park that night. how were you supposed to explain the reasoning behind such an odd mix of people driving a camper-van? everyone instantly started panicking.

“shit. shit, shit! we’re screwed!” dustin shouted amongst the sound of everyone bickering. you’d caught onto a few things people said, curse words flying through the air while you sat in the front with steve.

“just- just shut up!” steve shouted, pinching his nose in frustration. successful however, as the group stared in silence at the boy.

“holy shit, is that callahan?” max said, leaning forward and squinting slightly towards the tall man with a flashlight walking towards you.

“oh for fucks sake…” steve mumbled under his breath. it was known that officer callahan had a crush on you, he wasn’t one to make it low-key. ever since you guys had a few classes together in high school because of the mixed grades system in place, he’d taken a liking to you. you’d never reciprocated those feelings, and when you’d found steve… well callahan was the least of your concerns.

“oh! oh! [Y/N], you can get us out of this. just, talk to him. he’s going to listen to you he’s like… in love with you or some shit.” eddie chimes in, unhelpfully.

“do i have to?” you reply, turning in your chair to avoid the piercing glow of the torch 10 steps away from steve’s door.

“no time. no choice, please [Y/N].”

you turn to look at steve to gain his approval, but his door is already being opened by the infamous officer. the policeman wasn’t really paying attention until he’d looked up at hearing the sound of your voice bickering with a hidden eddie; still suspect #1.

“you guys do know that this area is— [Y/N]? oh wow uhm, hey. what’re you doing?”

your eyes widen as he recognises you, causing you to turn around slowly and place a smile on your face. “ohmygosh! no way, phil? haven’t seen you in so long sweetheart, what’ve you been up to?” the faux sweet tone you laced your voice with was sickly, but you had no other choice.

he leans his hand on the driver’s side door, shifting his weight to the side. “nothing really, missed your face around here.”

“ahem.” steve cleared his throat loudly, causing the police officer’s head to snap towards him.

“i’ll come round to you, [Y/N]. driver seems a bit angry.”

he slams the door shut and walks around towards the main door on the side of the vehicle. you place your hand on steve’s, comforting him slightly before stepping towards the door and avoiding the mischievous glints reflecting in everyone else’s eyes.

“shut the fuck up, henderson. keep laughing and you’ll blow it.” you pointed towards him, before pulling your shirt down to reveal more of your chest. you’d hiked your skirt up slightly too, hoping your cleavage and thighs were enough to distract the boy outside from asking too many questions.

as soon as you open the door, an instant blush hits callahan’s cheeks. eye-level with your breasts as you slowly walk down the stairs and waving your hips side-to-side slightly, he didn’t know where to look. “are you okay, honey? you look a bit distracted there.”

“oh! yes i’m, fine. you look fine. great! you look great.” he brings his fist to his mouth, coughing into it as your smirk grows. you’d always enjoyed having an affect on people like this, something about it made the blood rush to your head. he dropped the key in his hand, it falling to the floor with a small sound.

“oh! let me get that for you…” you say, leaning down and bending over while looking up at him with sultry eyes. he had a perfect view down your shirt, his stare trained directly to your cleavage.

“phil, babe. eyes up here, yeah?”

“yeah. sorry, sorry. what are you… are you busy tomorrow night?” he’d got the courage to ask.

“mmm, not sure. how come?” you know perfectly how to give off an innocent act, doe eyes looking up at him through your eyelashes and your nail placed between your teeth.

“you- fuck. you wanna go on a date? with me, darlin’?” he had managed to back you up against the side of the van, hands placed on the sides of your head. little did you know that everyone was not only watching and listening in on the interaction, but steve was livid. his eyes flicking up to the side mirror to see him getting close to you, the reflection playing in his mind.

“oh… i don’t know. would you be able to do be a favour for me if i go with you?”

“sure. yeah, anything for you. have i told you how good you look tonight? like seriously…” he lets out a loud wolf whistle, and you have to hide your discomfort.

falling back into character, you twirl a strand of your hair in your hand and giggle. “thanks so much, officer. would you be able to let me and a friend or two through to the park, honey? we have a friend there and i’m just…” you fan your face and look up, pretending to fan away tears. “sorry. i’m just so worried about her.”

“hey. don’t cry, i’ll let you through, just this once though.” he places his hand on your face, swiping under your eyes and you could only imagine steve.

“oh! thank you so so much.” you pull him into a hug, making sure he becomes intoxicated by your scent before pulling back. “i’ll meet you tomorrow night. 7 o’clock at the diner, yeah?”

“perfect. so perfect.” he says, looking down towards your chest again.

you leave him with the sound of a sickening giggle before closing the door and leaning against it inside the camper. you feel like you’re going to be sick.

everyone looks at you with wide eyes. “holy shit. you just did that…” “[Y/N]! you fucking genius!” “oh my god, that was perfect. how’re you so good at that?”

you laugh against the door, waiting for the silhouette of the pining officer to disappear before walking back towards your boyfriend in the front seat. you see the small pout placed on his lips, and his fierce grip on the steering wheel; knuckles white with lack of blood flow.

“hey… stevie your hands are gonna hurt. don’t do that—“ you lean towards his hands, but he pulls them away and looks towards the window on his left.

“steve…?” everyone behind you were immersed in their own conversation, mostly quoting things you had said to win the officer over and fawning over your performance too much to pay attention to you and steve right now.

“are you okay? i’m sorry, i didn’t actually mean anything i said to him! i was just—“

“i know.” he scoffs, the harsh sound ringing in your ears.

you only nod in response.

he quickly stepped on the gas, the vehicle jerking back to life as you all go back to eddie’s trailer to go over the plan again. you both sat in silence, on the drive there and when sitting on eddie’s couch.

“for fucks sake steve, stop sulking. the tension coming off you two is literally making my hair frizz, so go somewhere else and sort this shit out.” robin says, quite loudly while pointing towards the both of you. you agree with her, his sulking was unnecessary as you’d already apologised. so what was the issue?

you grab his hand and guide him towards eddie’s small bathroom. leaning against the sink, you look up at him.

“what’s the matter, steve? and don’t lie to me, please. you haven’t let that pout leave your lips since i got back to the van.”

he attempts to pace back and forth in the cramped room, running a hand through his hair before finally focusing on you. he cages you in, hands either side of your hips while he stares at you.

“did you enjoy flirting with him, [Y/N]? hmm? enjoy the way he trapped you against the side of the camper?”

“what? no! are you crazy, why would i enjoy that?”

“sure looked like you did.” he looks down at you, pulling your shirt down to match how it was when you distracted callahan.

“steve… what’re you—“

“i’m so mad right now. seeing him… get that close to you while you looked like this. thinking he had a chance. fucking hell.” he sighs heavily out of his nose.

“are you— you’re jealous! aren’t you?” you prod at his chest, smirking up at him.

“of course i’m jealous, [Y/N]! i’m your boyfriend, nobody else should be able to get that close to you.”

“babe…” your hands smooth his chest before locking around his neck and pulling him towards your face. “you’re the only one for me, ‘kay? not officer callahan. he’s creepy… and his breath smelt bad. i was only doing it to help everyone.”

that earns a breathy chuckle from the boy standing over you. “yeah?”

“oh yeah. only reason i got through all of that was because i imagined it were you.”

you leaned forward, pecking his lips a few times until the small pout encasing his plush lips turned into a smirk.

“like this?” he lifts you by your hips and places you against the door, mimicking the position you had found yourself in earlier.

“so much better when you do it, c’mere.” pushing your lips together, you feel steve’s tongue lick a stripe along the perimeter of your parted lips. the passionate kiss was soon turning heated, hands fumbling over each other’s bodies and dizzy heads spinning through the hot room. that was until you’d both heard a whisper from outside the door.

you pulled away, both of your eyebrows furrowed as you looked at one another. another mumbled whisper sounded from the door, and you realise instantly what’s happening.

before thinking twice, you open the door. as suspected, multiple bodies tumbled to the ground; none other than lucas and dustin. they smiled dopily up at you and steve, whose hand was tightly gripped on your waist.

“what’d you hear?” steve dared to ask.

“nothing! just some weird, water sounds. sounded like eddie’s pipes have gone bust or something.”

you can’t hold in your laughter, giggling in the two boys’ confused faces as steve joins you. they look at each other, even more confused than before, then huddling together to whisper again as they walk back into the main room.

“you should get jealous more often, harrington.”

“hm?” he hummed into the top of your head.

“so you can kiss me like that again. my legs nearly gave out.”

he chuckles again, before picking you up bridal-style and walking you back to the main room. “can’t have that now, can we? how else are you gonna show them thighs off to officer heart-eyes tomorrow night?”

you smack his chest with a smile, “you’re such an idiot, steve harrington.”

#♡｡ﾟ. steve ࿐ ❤️‍🩹 ˚ . ✦ #₊˚. ୭̥ 🌷 celebration ! #joe keery #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things scenario #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #stranger things 3 #stranger things 4 #stranger things one shot #stranger things fanfic #stranger things pov #st fluff #st fanfic #joe keery blurb #joe keery fanfic #st

[annimator]

Yeah no, the QSMP can really be summed up with this meme if ya think about it (QSMP SPOILERS BELOW)

Like yeah, a LOT of sad and tragic things happen on the island like the deaths of Tilin, Juanaflippa, Trump, and Bobby, the eggs getting cracked and dirty, and then disappearing the day after, the ungodly amount of kidnappings on the island (BRING MIKE BACK GODAMNIT), and people like Cellbit and Tubbo thinking their a step above the GODAMN MOTHERFUCKING Federation and that fucking bear only for them to find out that they never were, etc. But at the same time, there’s hope and joy in those sad moments: Even though everybody there is stuck on the island with little to no chance of escape, (for now…) the islanders managed to get along with each other and make great bonds. All the islanders are practically one big family that cares for one another. And some people even make gifts and presents for other islanders to help them out (ie: Pac making Bagi a present full of supplies). Heck, some of the islanders even found love; whether it’s Phil and Missa being in love with each other, but being to afraid to say each other, whatever Fit and Pac have going on rn, and ESPECIALLY Cellbit and Roier getting married. At the end of the day, despite all the hardships, obstacles, and tragedy, there is hope and love to fight back against it.

So with all that being said…

Happy 6 Months QSMP!

(Okay maybe I’m like a day late, for this but y’know)

#rlly poured my heart out with this one guys #qsmp #qsmp.txt #pissa #fitpac #spiderbit #qsmp philza #qsmp missa #qsmp fitmc #qsmp pactw #qsmp tazercraft #qsmp cellbit #qsmp roier #qsmp eggs

[swordfright]

do you have any c!awesamdream fics recomendations?

Honestly, I don’t have a ton of recs. c!awesamdream fic is mysteriously hard to find, and I also wouldn’t want to recommend you anything super E-rated in case that’s not your jam. Personally I’ve had more success searching the Sam & Dream gen relationship tag than the slash tag. That said, here are my no-brainer recs, most are gen with some exceptions:

inosculation by @theminecraftbox - canon compliant, reflection on how their relationship progresses during the prison arc, how c!sam’s authoritarian tendencies bloom in pandora, and the weird symbiosis he and dream achieve. technically not a slash fic but like it is To Me!!

saltwater on rock by @elmhat - also not technically a slash fic but it is a fun exploration of their relationship post-prison: who are they to each other, now that they aren’t prisoner and warden? what power has dream reclaimed, what power has sam ceded? or is it the other way around? fun stuff.

the trees deny themselves nothing by @lookinghalfacorpse - if you’re asking for recs you’ve probably already read this one (it’s basically THE awesamdream fic at this point) but i think it lends itself to re-readability! and if you haven’t read it: dream loses his leg in pandora, phil n techno conscript sam to make him a new one after the jailbreak, things get interesting. OP also wrote a post-fic oneshot which you can read here.

everlasting evermore by @elmhat - incomplete atm and also not slash but definitely awesamdream vibes. sam is a sad widower king who interrogates dream in his dungeon so it scratches the fantasy itch. this fic does some cool things with the cloning lab lore and i’m really excited to see where it goes!

21 steps in the desert by @airrec - banger. it's short so i won't describe it in detail. banger tho!

scream eureka by @cgogs - basically a post-canon domestic horror fic, sam and dream are married (with a kid on the way) but neither of them is able to move on from pandora. this fic deals with issues of bodily autonomy very well and it’s also refreshing to see trans pregnancy handled with tact, rather than treated like a fetish or a joke. IIRC this fic is an AU of an AU so be warned, it does come with like 30 pages of background lore which isn't necessary to understand the fic but does make it easier to follow.

all these lives by @lookinghalfacorpse - reincarnation drabble, plays with sam’s obsession in fun ways. not really sure how else to describe this one but i reread it sometimes! it’s good!

you don't have to be like that by @dr3amofagame - incomplete, i haven't reread this one in a while but i remember enjoying it at lot! dream gives sam the book in a moment of desperation and then has to navigate the fallout.

accident by @airrec - another fave. concise, fucked up, and very well written.

i’ve also been working on a multichap awesamdream fic (am i allowed to rec my own fics??? is that too cringe??) that’s gonna be wrapping up soon. pandora's vault gains sentience, that's the whole plot. like most of the other works on this list, it’s not technically ship fic but it is very much about sam and dream’s...situation. full warning tho, it’s long and rambly and weird, sorry for that!

i also wanna add that pretty much any fic that explores the scrapped lore is gonna have to deal with awesamdreamisms by necessity, owing to the nature of, well, the lore. there's a decent amount of fics about it, here's one that I found recently and enjoyed a lot.

Have fun, mind the tags. And if you find more then by all means, feel free to add to this post! I know there's a lot of tumblr-exclusive content floating around out there that can be harder to find than stuff on AO3.

Also, it's worth mentioning that some of the most compelling c!awesamdream content I've read were brief interludes in fics about much broader subjects in the fandom; I've read a lot of great c!awesamdream moments in c!rivals fics, prison trio fics, c!dnf fics, etc. So my advice is to cast your net wide, if that makes sense? Happy reading!

#like i said most are gen but like gen: suggestive edition if you catch my drift #i hope thats ok to say dfghnjmkjhg #if anyone wants to be untagged from this post and/or have their work removed just dm me and i'll make it happen! #c!sam #c!awesamdream #c!dream #awesamdude #dreblr #fic rec #asks #i don't have time to check these links before going back to work but hopefully they all lead where they're supposed to #if not lmk

[anarchy-and-piglins]

"The walk isn't even that long," Tommy complained. Phil muffled him by wrapping the scarf around him a bit tighter, effectively almost choking Tommy in the process.

"I don't care how long the walk is, you're going to complain to me if you freeze your arse off. And then you'll have pneumonia like a certain somebody."

"I can hear you!" Wilbur called from the couch in the other room, then broke out into an impressive coughing fit.

"And if you're even half as much of a drama queen about it as he is, you'll be making my life hell," Phil muttered.

Techno's shoulders shook with silent laughter. But when Phil stepped toward him he froze up.

"Don't think you're exempt from his either." Reaching up, Phil pulled a woolen hat down over Techno's unruly mop of hair. The curls were unmanageable at best, but the winter weather had made them completely unkempt. As usual, Techno himself seemed completely uninclined to do anything about it.

Next, Phil manhandled a poncho over Techno's shoulders. A task easier said than done considering he had to do it by fitting the fabric beneath the seal pelt that always hung there and Techno would never take off. Not after how long it took him to get it back.

And especially with how important it was to the selkie.

The poncho was one of Wilbur's, and Phil tied the chords at the front into a cute little ribbon. "There, all set. Now you two can brave the cold." Techno offered him a thumbs up.

Then he glared at Tommy, who was nearly doubled over laughing. "Sorry, sorry, you just look so silly in that."

"Pot, meet kettle," Phil said, flicking the pompom on Tommy's knit cap. The teenager batted his hand away.

"I look amazing in everything, Phil. We've established this."

"Sure. Don't stay out too long, straight to town and back to get the medicine. Don't let Techno get distracted."

"That's a pretty tall order, Phil." Tommy looked over at Techno, who was already completely preoccupied with the little straps on the coat Phil had made him wear. Human items still fascinated him.

"Just do your best. We don't want anything to happen."

Tommy turned around to open the door, using his other arm to wave Phil away. "Yeah, yeah, you're worried, we get it."

"You little shit-" Whatever other expletives Phil might have wanted to throw at him would remain a mystery as Tommy choose this moment to drag Techno outside and shut the door on him.

But maybe he couldn't help the vague smirk on his face.

Techno looked back to the door, then at Tommy. His lips parted slightly and for a moment, Tommy thought he was going to talk. It would be the first time he'd hear the man's voice. Techno was mute, always had been since they found him washed up on the beach two months ago.

But then Techno nodded instead, nodding at the house. He was smiling. He brought up both hands pinched his thumb and pointer together while leaving the other fingers outstretched, and moved both hands in a circular motion.

‘Family?’.

“Yeah,” Tommy said. “That’s why he’s worried about us.”

And if he was grinning too, that was his own fucking business wasn’t it?

#shara writes #sbi #selkie techno au my beloved

[cornerdreams-txt]

how i think the qsmp eggs would have hatched if they hatched in the adoption center when they were getting adopted

i can't believe i got this attached to fucking pixel eggs played by grown ass adults in a minecraft roleplay server. jesus christ

long post, so all content is under the cut for the sake of anybody who scrolled onto this one !

— dapper didn't fully get out at first, resulting in him having his arms and legs sticking out, and being able to peek out the top of his egg, but he also refused help to hatch fully. bad found this endearing, and let him stay in his shell until he was ready to properly hatch out. he would get bad's help in removing the rest of the shell two days later, because the shell kept flaking and cracking in different areas and he just wanted it over with.

— tilin struggled to hatch at first, having poor motor control while still over half in her shell, but quackity helped her get out of the shell after he realized she was struggling.

— chayanne hatched without any problems at all! even though he tripped right as he tried to take his first steps, much to the amusement of his parents, who burst out laughing, and then helped him get up. he struggled to walk for a while, so phil would hold his hands, and missa let chayanne balance on his feet while he walked so he could learn how to walk. he got the hang of it quickly enough!

— bobby fell over while hatching, resulting in the shell cracking and him stumbling right out. a clumsy start, but shockingly efficient for getting the shell off! jaiden was enthusiastically encouraging him the whole time, and bobby can faintly remember the sight of them beaming at him when he picked his head up, with roier eagerly watching and encouraging him at jaiden's side.

— juanaflippa broke open the top of her shell pretty easily, but the effort to break open that top was a lot for her! she got her arms out over the top and half flopped over with a big huff, tired, but upon the sight of her parents, reached for them. after that, she was pulled out the rest of the way by a very excited mariana, with slime cooing over her and quick to huddle close to see his new child.

— leo got his legs out! but couldn't get her upper half out. she got very confused by the fact he could put his arms up aaalll the way, but that the shell didn't break and he remained (mostly) in darkness. foolish couldn't stop laughing, so vegetta was the one to help lift the remaining shell off of leo's body.

— ramón's hatching was pretty unremarkable, as he did it quickly and without trouble! fit was very pleased about this and is very proud of him for doing it so easily after learning of the other eggs blunders.

— trump struggled to hatch out at all. he managed to create a small hole, but struggled getting a good enough angle to break the hole open more so he could hatch properly because of the cramped conditions of the shell. but, of course, he wasn't left entirely alone, and was given help to get himself out.

#sources: #qsmp #characters: #tilin #dapper #tallulah #juanaflippa #chayanne #leonarda #bobby #ramón #q jaiden #q roier #q quackity #q philza #q missa #q badboyhalo #q mariana #q slime #q foolish #q vegetta #q fitmc #post type: #headcanons ☁️ #headcanons #posted by: #injqm 🌾 #// #dont look at me

[morganbritton132]

The other day I read through all your officer noodle/ uncle Phil Callahan au posts and god!!!! How that would change (but also not!) the Dynamic S1 & S2 especially. Like Steve is the only kid without any parent on screen who is In His Corner. He’d finally have an Adult who gives a shit and, while he may not Like Steve, loves him & would be able to say ‘why is this teen getting the shit kicked out of him every 6 months’ and make sure he’s actually getting medical treatment every time he gets his shit rocked lol. Also the angst potential of Callahan & his mom (Steve’s grandma) realizing his sister abandoned them when she found a rich husband/ family but now she’s abandoning her own kid like she did them and like, ‘fuck is he my responsibility now if she’s not even in the country??’ Idk, would love to hear if you (or anyone else!) have any more Thoughts abt it!

I have thoughts! This is kinda long.

Phil was never particularly close with his sister, but the six-year age gap between them never felt wider than it did when he saw his nephew for the very first time. He was twelve, gangly and awkward, and his legs hurt all the time from growing, but he didn’t feel like an uncle.

Everybody said that he was an uncle now, but Uncle was a grown-up word and Phil was just a kid. He thinks that Mom is a grown-up word too and that just because Angie was eighteen and married, that it didn’t make her an adult.

When he saw her, tired and exhausted, holding her little bundle of baby like she didn’t quite know what to do with it… it felt like she was just playing pretend. He didn’t think that she should be having a baby or that she should be married to twenty-five year old Richard Harrington no matter how good his job was, but that was what happened.

Phil was technically the first man – boy – to hold little baby Steven because Richard had stepped out to make a call and didn’t come back until an hour after Steve was born. He had lipstick on his collar, wasn’t particularly interested in the baby, and Phil was left with this sinking feeling that they were all going to fail this kid.

Phil graduated from high school, tried college, dropped out, joined the police force, and that feeling remained there. It never really went away – not when Angie stopped coming around for holidays, not when they went five years without hearing from her, and not when he found out that she left her ten year old home alone while she followed her husband out of the country.

Phil’s dad died when he was young and he didn’t really remember much about the man, but he knew that he must have been a fierce man because that fierceness lives inside of Angie, or maybe it was just something that Richard Harrington put there. Their mother was not fierce. She was timid and kind, and she didn’t put up a fight when Angie came to collect her child after a week because she didn’t know how.

Angie said a lot of hateful words that day – mostly to Phil – and Richard threatened worse, but Steve didn’t cry when he was dragged away even though he looked like he wanted to. Phil was put on a week’s suspension after Richard threatened to sue the police department for harassment, and life went on.

Phil always pictured a life where he left Hawkins but it never came to fruition. He never moved out of his mother’s house. He made plans to but they fell through when her health took a turn. He stayed. He slept in the same bed that he had his whole life, he continued his work at the police department under Hopper, made a life-long friend out Calvin Powell, and he did not check in on his nephew. Though maybe he should have.

Phil’s interactions with Steve were few and far between and each one filled with more disdain and attitude than the one before. He saw him running out of parties that the police broke up, grinning through the window of his daddy’s car when he was pulled over for speeding, and he saw him beaten halfway to hell sitting in the waiting room after Will Byers was found.

“Did a nurse look you over?” Phil asked, crouching down to catch Steve’s eyes when it was just the two of them and a sleeping Ted Wheeler left in the waiting room. Steve squinted at him and shrugged, but otherwise didn’t respond. “You could have a concussion – you probably do.”

“I deserved it.”

“Yeah, I know,” Phil said because he probably did. He put his hand on Steve’s knee to lift himself back up but stopped, “God, you’re shaking like a leaf. Are you-“

“Just shut up, okay?” Steve snapped at him. He looked angry and panicked for a second, and Phil was left with that sinking feeling of failure again. “I’m sorry. I’m just – I’m sorry. Just – I’m tired.”

Callahan went to get Steve a cup a water and came back to an empty chair. Steve cleaned up his act after that and then Billy Hargrove happened. Steve was in the hospital with a concussion, cracked ribs, and three broken fingers, and neither Angie nor Richard answered the goddamn phone. Fall passed into winter, spring, summer, and Hopper died.

Hopper was dead and the mall was in flames, and the only goddamn thing that Callahan can see is his nephew beaten half to hell again. Steve’s on a stretcher with a shell-shocked look, and when Callahan approached, Steve startled so violently that it looked like everything hurt.

He asked what happened and Steve told him with a choked voice that Hopper was, uh. That Hopper was gone. And Phil asked if Steve was okay and he said in barely a whisper, “No.”

Phil took Steve home that night. He made up the bed in Angie’s old room for his nephew and the Robin girl that he insisted had to stay with him, and he knows that he’s missed a lot – a lifetime – but he vows to himself that nothing else was going to happen to this kid anymore.

He doesn’t pick up the phone this time.

#this is probably as close to a proper fic that I’ve gotten recently #steve harrington #phil callahan #Officer Noodles

[rapid-looser]

Leverage.

C!technoblade x gn!reader

a/n: this is inspired by the song 'Woe To The People Of Order', Cami-Cat's cover. Requests are still open, I'm just lacking motivation right now.

Can be read as Romantic or Platonic

Pronouns: They/Them

Request: Yes/No

★

Technoblade found it odd when you weren't in your house, which was located about 500 blocks from his. You had promised him you'd help him with planting a new bunch of potatoes in his third garden. So he searched in your armour room, which you would be sometimes, usually making new armour just incase a war broke out. You were quite advanced in armoury, as you had been taught at a young age. That was one of the main reasons you were sought out to join the syndicate. Not only that, but your neutral opinion on governments. As long as you were left in peace, you wouldn't take down a government, but if said government disturbed your peaceful life, you'd help in some way to bring it down. At first, Technoblade wouldn't talk to you unless it involved anything about armour or tools. But over time, he slowly started trusting you and taking to you more, as well as asking you to help him with his garden. After about 7 months, he considered you a friend. He couldn't find you anywhere in your house, but as he went into your kitchen, he found a note on your table. "If your trying to find [name], their with me. And unless you come to Las Nevadas for a rematch, they'll loose all their canon lives. Make your choice Technoblade, because i won't wait forever. -Quackity".

As he neared the end of the note, the voices began demanding Quackity's head, While some of the other voices were worried for your well-being. As he finished reading the note, more of the voices started demanding Quackity's head. The louder the voices grew, the harder he found it to control his anger. Yes he retired, but quackity had taking someone that he shown compassion to. He placed the note down and started making his way back to his house. Once he arrived, he opened his ender chest, and equipped his axe, grabbed a few potions of healing and regeneration and put on his armour. His door opened, and Phil stepped in. "Mate, where are you going?" He said as he neared his old friend, Technoblade. "Quackity wanted a rematch, and instead of asking straight up, he took [name], as leverage, I'm assuming." He replied, as he got up and walked towards the coat rack, where his coat and his mask were. "Mate, are you sure it isn't a trap? You settled your score with him last time. And he wouldn't risk loosing another life, would he?" Phil mumbled, more to himself then technoblade. "It doesn't matter if it's a trap or not Phil, he knows what leverage does to people, and he'd be the only one in the server that would ask for a rematch. If worse comes to worse, I'll ask you to come and help me." He spoke, after a few seconds. And with that, he got on Carl before Phil could reply to him, and rode towards the coordinates which was on the note.

Once he neared the coordinates, he stopped, and tied Carl up to a tree, out of site. He got his axe out, and walked the rest of the way to the coordinates. Once he arrived, he saw quackity with full netherite armour on, and you, with lava below you. "Let's just get to the point. If you drop all your armour, and weapons, I'll let [name] go, and they won't get harmed. If you don't, they get dropped into the lava below them." He said, once he saw technoblade. "After that, you'll return to the prison, and I'll let [name] leave entirely. Do not try any funny business, because I've got Sam waiting 700 blocks away, and he's got full netherite armour as well." He continued, not waiting for technoblade to reply to his last statement. "So you ask for a rematch, then you threaten to harm someone who has nothing to do with this? That's kinda lame don't you think?" He replied, sarcastically. A few seconds pasted, before he reached for his axe and Quackity in the shoulder. "Fuck- you've fucked up Technoblade." He said, while backing up from technoblade and drinking a potion of healing. "SAM, PULL THE LEVER" He yelled, while pulling out his sword. Not long after that, the cobblestone floor beneath you started to disappear and the lava started to become obvious underneath you. "Well fuck this isn't gonna end well" you said as you went towards the edge of the floor, ignoring the fighting that was happening around you.

Just as the floor was about to entirely disappear, someone threw you a totem or undying, which you caught in a matter of seconds. "You better hope that you die a quick death quackity, because I'll personally torture you to death if your dying to me." Technoblade said as he removed his axe from Quackity's throat, which has been there a few seconds prior. "Leave me be, and leave them as well. And if i see you one more time, you'll be killed for sure." He continued speaking, as he stood up entirely and put his axe away.

★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★★

#dsmp x reader #dsmp fic #technoblade x reader #c!techo x reader #c!technoblade x reader #dsmp techno #techno x you #techno x reader

[brick-a-doodle-do]

Please just give me anything from your tiny workers au!! Literally anything and I will absolutely cherish it :D

*ahem*

would you like the first chapter? would you cherish that?

(also fuck scheduling, have it now. >:D its not proofread tho fyi)

tiny workers (i)

words: 4069

cw: vague description of depression, swearing

—–—

Knocking wakes him up. Loud and repetitive knocking. 

Wilbur blinks, trying to adjust to the golden sun that filters through his blinds, even as closed as they are. 

The knocking still hasn’t stopped. His nerves flare up at the continuous noise and he sits up, blinking a few more times to adjust to being awake before he finds his way out of bed. The hardwood under his floor has never felt more neutral, which makes him unusually aware of the surrounding air that feels so invisible that it’s suffocating.

Knocking.

He tries to ignore it and leaves his room, traces the length of the hallway and continues the beeline to the door, where he can faintly hear  a muffled conversation from behind.

Wilbur stops, standing at the front door. Through the agitating knocking sound, he holds his head in his hands for a moment before swiping his hands through his bed-ruined hair.

“Wil, mate!” Phil says, loud and clear through the door. Wilbur groans.

Quietly, he listens as Phil murmurs something to Techno, who in return whispers an ingenuine apology.

Right there, he considers walking away. They can’t knock forever.

But, his conscience figures he owes it to his family to at least make an effort. And so, taking the cool doorknob in his hand, he opens the door and puts on a fake, strained smile. “Yes?” 

“Good mornin’,” Techno butts in before Phil can. Wilbur raises his eyebrows at him tiredly.

“D’ya mind if we come in, Wil? We have something for you,” Phil explains, and Wilbur tries to find the courage to decline. And despite how much he told himself to promptly shut the door on his father and brother’s face, he found himself instead nodding along. 

“Yeah, go for it,” Wilbur agrees and steps aside.

Phil leads, brushing past him, where Techno lingers in the doorway for a moment. “I’ll admit, he’s stretchin’ this a little bit,” Techno warns, and before Wilbur can question what he meant, his vision is obscured as Techno walks past him. 

He shuts the door and settles in on an armchair, which sits across from the couch Phil and Techno have found a seat on.

“Are you here for what I think you’re here for?” Wilbur asks, an explanation hung between them.

“It depends on what you’re thinking, Wil,” Phil hums, laughing to try and break the tension. It doesn’t work, and in the end it’s only him finding amusement. His father sighs. “We don’t care about you not replying to us, or making an effort to be social, we just care about you actually getting outside,” Phil starts, glancing at Techno, whose  expression is nothing but curious at Phil’s particular wording, “so, see, we found something.” 

He can’t say he enjoys the sound of that, and especially not as Phil pulls his phone out and taps at his screen, only to hand it to Wilbur. A long article catches his vision as he’s handed the phone. “Here ya’ go,” his fathers says, trying his best to  smile.

Wilbur stares, face wooden as his finger slowly scrolls down his father’s phone.

Impending outlines of familiar figures and silenced commotion of bated breath keeps his flat quiet.

His eyes are hung heavy as he scrolls, skimming impatiently through the articles’ pre-advertisements. Something unintelligible of promised family fun and worthy relaxation flies past his eyes until he finally reaches it, an overdue title with a cheesy caption.

COLONY PARKS

“Tiny adventures await! Explore small worlds of wonder with tiny people, big fun!”

Wilbur squints at the screen, his doomful eyes blending in with his uncertain frown. “An amusement park? Are you fucking— fucking come again?” he scoffs. He had to ask; lingering in the back of his mind is hope that he isn’t sent to this hellhole.

His father lets out a sad sigh. “It’s for a few hours, Wil, that’s nothing compared to the things we could do.”

Handing the phone back, he shakes his head. “I think anything could be better than this. I thought your goal was to get me out of the house to have a good time. This is just—fucking childish!”

“I think one could pretty easily argue that you’re being childish right now,” Techno remarks. Phil elbows him, but Wilbur see’s the way he struggles to keep a smile down. “Heh? You know I’m right, but excuse me for putting a mark on your ‘good-parent’ facade.”

Phil stares at Techno, struggling down a smile. Wilbur shrinks into himself.

Eventually, Phil sighs. “He’s right,” Phil starts, and he watches as Techno smiles, “Wil, you gotta give it a try. One shot. If you don’t like it you know we won’t force you into it and we’ll find something better for you,” he finishes, and Wilbur solemnly nods. He knows better than to pick a fight with his father or Techno.

“Fine,” he murmurs. 

–

When a day had passed after the conversation, Wilbur couldn’t say the passing time with the absence of people had let him think, because he honestly had to answer and say he had continued with his musty routine. The only thing different was he was wallowing with slight agitation with his father. 

The sudden announcement had been a spring that he wasn’t exactly ready to release. He’d much prefer to ease into a “recovery”, but he can’t get everything he wants.

And now, with his phone vibrating loudly under his hand, he found his sore eyes opening, unadjusted to the sunlight that strung into his room, the sun high in the sky. He’d nearly drifted off again when his phone disturbed him. 

He pulled himself up, propping his upper body up with his arm and unlocking his phone. Rushing notifications from Techno continuously layered until he had the decency to open them. 

A long string of “urgent” messages. 

From what he could gather with his five-hours-of-sleep brain, Techno was parked outside. 

Begrudgingly, he tapped at Techno’s contact until the phone was ringing. Techno picked up immediately.

“You wakin’ up at twelve now?” Techno asks. 

Wilbur sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose, what little energy he has murmuring out a quiet response. “Techno what are you doing downstairs?”

“I recall Phil ‘n you coming to an agreement with the theme park.”

Wilbur groans. “Now? Today? He never told me that,” Wilbur complains. Groggily, he pulls himself up and swings his legs over the side of the bed. The air is uncomfortably warm, but somehow the feeling of the heavy blanket over him still felt lovely.

“I’m only waitin’ ten more minutes before I go up ‘n get you myself, just so you know, Will-I-am,” Techno says.

“I’ll be down.”

And he was, with a fresh set of clothes and tamed hair, more than anything he’d been able to put together the past few days. He tried not to pay attention to how gross he felt, considering the greasy streaks of hair he felt just by trying to make it look presentable. 

And his laundry was growing scarce, it was only a matter of time before he’d start rewearing things from his pile of filth in the corner.

Never mind that, though, he had one free day of being outdoors where everything was covered for him. But the thought of it still made him feel unnerved. Alone in an unfamiliar place that was probably packed with people. He’d heard of the place, probably one too many times over the years.

It was unconventional for Phil to think he would come out of his shell there of all places.

But, he did, and Techno was there, already walking around his car to seemingly come and find him. “That took you so long,” Techno murmured, turning back around at the sight of Wilbur. The brunet hummed in response, trying to sound amused. He got in the car, feeling out of place in such a tidy and unusually vibrant place. But he’d been in Techno’s car year after year, so he couldn’t say it didn’t feel familiar. 

Techno drove off quickly without a word, and Wilbur buckled his seatbelt in and slumped against the window. “How far is it?” he asks on a whim.

“Nothin’ convenient,” Techno mutters, glancing at the GPS on his phone. “But it can’t be longer than two hours,” he quickly reassures.

Wilbur groans. “He wants me to be happy but can’t pick a convenient place for me to be happy at.”

“At least he’s trying,” Techno quickly butts in. “Not a lot of parents do that, bad parents ‘n all. That’s why there’s a lot of orphans.”

“I don’t think that’s what orphan means, Techno,” Wilbur muses.

“Don’t avoid the topic. And orphan can mean what I want it to mean ‘cause I’m the one killin’ them.”

“I’m not fuc—that’s still not how it works!” Wilbur argues, smiling ever-so-slightly. 

It was like that the rest of the ride, brotherly banter between them while Techno still tried to drill into his head that Phil meant good. And Wilbur considered it, which was pointless because he knows Techno is right.

He watched as the time on the GPS went down slowly, until eventually it announced that they’d arrived. Which wasn’t entirely true, because even as Techno made a right-hand turn, down onto the path with a road sign announcing the park in big black letters: “COLONY PARKS”. A thick arrow pointed right, down the road that they were currently pulling onto.

 In the distance, Wilbur spotted an overhead bridge with a big overhanging sign that decorates the entire side of said bridge. A dull brown background, the name of the park in what he recognizes as oversized shoelaces, suitably on-brand. 

There’s strands of large, fake grass that obscures some of the words, and other giant versions of everyday things: buttons, bugs, probably other things had he been paying attention. It was interesting how all-out they went, but it didn’t excuse the fact that he wanted no part in this.

Fucking Phil and his need for him to be fine.

From that point forward, the scenery had changed drastically—there were towering blades of glass that gave the intended shrunken effect (where, if he was being honest, it made his mood lighten a bit). Certain sculptures of oversized shoes or again, bugs and old trinkets of the “nearby humans” lay in the “fields of grass”. He could certainly see the appeal, speaking for the children he knows passing by this very place with a much more exasperated and fulfilled face, while his dull and unamused; trying to hide how eager he was to look at the detail in everything.

“Honestly, I can see why you don’t wanna go here,” Techno chimes in after a moment, himself looking around at the scenery. 

“Don’t say that unless you’re turning us around,” Wilbur deadpans. When Techno huffs, he shrinks deeper into the seat and tightens his arms around his torso.

(*)

“Woah—fucking shit!” Tubbo chants from afar, where Tommy can just barely hear him over the gust of air as a golf ball flies past him, narrowly missing his body. He thought he had that.

The human above him chuckles, and Tommy holds back a rant with a sour “I’ll fucking sue you”. 

“Yeah, yeah,” the human murmurs, walking past him with ease to the next hole.

Tommy stays put, looking back at Tubbo, who’s sitting in the crevice of one of the fake rocks. “I’ve lost my pep, Tubbo,” he starts, and Tubbo’s already giving him a knowing look, but Tommy continues, “I’ll steal you a free thing—just please cover for me, my lungs are dying and I think if this person fuckin’ taunts me one more time I’ll probably get fired.”

Tubbo hums and shuffles up from his spot on the ledge. “I got you, bossman. Cut yourself off, or whatever. Go take a break,” he agrees. 

Tommy’s offer slipped through Tubbo’s finger and he hurried off before he could remember. He bids a ‘thank you’ and speeds across the fake grass of the course, following along the left-hand side of the previous hole then hoisting over the low bricks that line the sides. 

As he lands in the dirt, Tommy slows his pace and basks in his unofficial break.

He approaches the small hut for mini-golf booking, where Karl was leant against the counter with his phone in front of him. Lucky bastard, getting to use a phone with such ease.

Briefly, the worker noticed the tiny and Tommy nodded at him solemnly, and Karl offered a small smile and returned to the device.

Tommy ignores his jealousy (and his impulsive desire to steal it) and carries on, ducking under the tiny-worker entrance and slumping his shoulders as a gust of air-conditioned room hits him instantly.. 

Quiet feedback from his earpiece-turned-radio breaks the quiet silence, and Karl looks down at him. Tommy in return pauses, looking up at him. 

There’s only a beat of passing silence before Karl chimes in with, “Hey, Tommy.”

“Hi Karl,” Tommy greets, wavering his previous path to cut across the floor; closer to the human. “You giving me a boost up? All the newcomers that are gonna have their mind fuckin’ blown when they come in here,” Tommy grins, “You know I just gotta see that.”

“Why should I help you?” Karl asks, and Tommy scowls at the question. “Will you put in a good word for me?”

“Oi! Come on Karl, don’t be a dick,” he yells up, scoffing.

Karl stares down at him, hand cupping his chin.

Fuck this. “Fine, dickhead. Who to, fuckin’ Big Q again?”

“Actually–yeah.”

Tommy makes a gagging noise, shaking his head. “You fucking romantic,” Tommy jokes—though he can’t say there wasn’t sincerity to it; he never saw the appeal of romance. But, the longer Karl stares at him with an expression even Tommy can quite literally not say no to, he shrugs. “I’ll try again, then, but I won’t accept assholery against me when he rejects you. Again.”

Karl nods, satisfied, then crouches down with his hand extended. With practised ease, Tommy steps on and adjusts his footing. 

The human stands, and Tommy watches greedily as a view of the opening-hour crowds start fumbling in. Amusingly enough, Tommy also has a view of the human he was up against earlier. 

He steps off of Karl’s hand and rushes across the counter. Karl returns to his phone, and Tommy takes a seat near the edge closest to the crowd.

There are the usual: families of three or four with giddy smiles as they ‘ooh’ and ‘ahh’ at the decor as they try to ignore the inconvenient rush of people, and the couples that look too happy to be there. There’re grandparents with their kids, large groups of teenagers and large groups of adults, kids—everything. 

But, one person in particular stands out to Tommy. There’s no kid clung to his side or running off, not a partner at his shoulder. He doesn’t look particularly invested; his shoulders are shrunk in on himself and his lanky torso, and frankly Tommy can’t say anyone has stood out quite like that in such an unordinary way. 

Usually, the people who catch his attention are those with colourful clothes or boisterous voices and laughter. This guy is making himself small, and he looks quiet at best. It’s funny—someone so tall and dull couldn’t blend in with a familial crowd, but he attempted it anyway, and it was amusing to watch. Simple as that.

(*)

Kill him. Right here, right now, kill him. 

Phil’s interpretation of fun and relaxation is still puzzling to him, because as eager people run from every direction and pay no mind as they brush against his still form, it doesn’t feel relaxing. He can only imagine the park stretching out for miles, and he can’t say that trudging any deeper would make this jungle of people any more coherent.

So, he looks to his left and makes a beeline over to the least crowded place he can find.

He goes sideways against the crowd, keeping his eyes narrowed to try and keep his vision straight ahead. He stumbles as he catches himself before he trips over a stroller, and just manages to find his footing on the path leading up to the attraction. 

It’s a simplistic design, holding nothing special against the initial drive up, with towering flowers that cast a shadow over some areas, fake rocks that seem to fit in like pebbles against the flowers. 

Wilbur takes a habitual look around, noticing the layout of a golf course. 

Lucky find, he muses.

The path cuts short and opens to a wider area, where a wooden (yet somehow still posh-looking) stand is built. Behind the counter, a worker who couldn’t have been older than twenty five was scrolling idly through his phone. As Wilbur approaches awkwardly, he seems to catch the worker’s attention. He looks up, flashing a genuine smile as he sets his phone down.

“Hello,” Wilbur greets.

“Hey!” The worker greets back, and Wilbur tries to compose himself to talk. “Look, let me be honest with you, I’ve never been here before and I just—I think I need something to pass the time.”

Karl (if his nameplate had a say in it) nods along, looking fairly interested for any theme park worker. “Uh, do you want to try a few rounds on the course?” 

“Yeah, that might be a better start than sitting around,” Wilbur agrees. Out of the corner of his eye, something shifts, but he can’t pay attention to it for long before Karl’s talking to him again.

“Okay, and have you been introduced to the rent-a-tiny feature?”

“Uh—oh, they may have mentioned it. I can’t say I was listening,” Wilbur explains. Karl nods. 

“Oh. Well, newer members get it free,” Karl begins, ducking behind the counter, “but that is specifically for attractions. To take them around the park it would be extra,” Karl pops back up. “And there’s a new-member discount for that as well, usually for if it was paid online. But it’s totally optional!” Karl finishes, finally, and Wilbur takes it in.

“I—my dad set this up, I wouldn’t know what features he got. Again, I wasn’t exactly listening when they read it over.”

The conversation continued, back-and-forth for another five minutes until it was squared away that Phil had opted for the rent-a-tiny feature, which he hadn’t been thrilled to discover. But it was valuable money to Phil, and in one angle it was for a good cause. And so, again, his conscience won.

Karl had fitted him for the club and left him to choose a ball, while the worker set off to find a tiny. It was startling to know he was going to see one, purely because of his uncertainty that he would manage to handle such a small thing—person—whatever. It was unnerving.

And that’s why his heart ran nervously when Karl finally emerged, something wedged between his forefinger and thumb.

A borrower. A real fucking borrower. Wilbur tries to hide his suddenly piqued interest in the being, watching as calmly as possible as the two approached and the borrower was set down onto the counter. He looked irritated, but still put on a fake, flashy smile for customer-him. 

“Hello, you’ve interrupted my break time but I can take a break for you, I saw you over there,” the borrower points to the crowd to Wilbur’s left of them, “and you looked all sad as shit,” the borrower finishes. His voice was so loud, so clear, no stutter in sight and swearing proudly. It was hard not to seem impressed.

“Good luck with him, and have a good game!” 

Wilbur tucks the club under his arm and pockets the golf ball, then stares at the borrower. 

“Uh—” Wilbur’s voice ran dry. Karl had disappeared out of sight, and that left the two standing there. 

“Dy’a want me to walk then, dick?” 

“Ah—no, I can just pick you up?”

“You’re one of those people?” The borrower asks, raising an eyebrow at him in plain frustration. Wilbur feels guilty, but he does feel an underlying irritation of his own. “Look, set your hand down. I won’t bite you,” the borrower instructs. Wilbur obliges reluctantly, slowly approaching his hand to the counter. “And while I’m at it, since you’re a bitch and got me for a day, I’m Tommy. Big T.”

Wilbur rests his hand on the surface and responds “Wilbur”. 

Tommy nods and turns his attention to his transportation, which Wilbur has been focussed on excruciatingly long to keep steady. As tiny skin brushes onto his, Wilbur’s entire body freezes. In that moment, his strength is kept in keeping his hand still. It was also at this contact that Wilbur remembered how touch starved he had been as of lately, with days of laying in bed with nothing but a blanket and his clothes stuck to him. 

And now, there was a borrower climbing into the palm of his hand, settling right in the crevice where his fingers couldn’t help but curl at the touch. 

Wilbur tries to shake away the feeling of contact against his hand and turns away, Tommy kept carefully in his palm. 

“It’s fucking stupid to be scared of something smaller than you, pussy,” Tommy says, looking up at him through Wilbur’s curled fingers. 

Wilbur furrows his brows and looks down in return, shaking his head. “I’m not scared of you, I never implied that,” he argues.

“Uhuh. You seem to be going the wrong way, I recall the first hole being back there,” Tommy says, grinning like he’s already known.

Wilbur turns on his heel and starts off in the right direction. “And you didn’t want to tell me?”

“Well, you don’t seem like the most talkative fella’,” Tommy points out. Wilbur furrows his brows.

He laughs half-heartedly. “That’s fair.”

(*)

So much for a break.

He watches as Tubbo grins at him from the last hole, while he’s sat in a palm at the very first one. Tommy wrinkles his face and flips the other off, who in return follows suit.

Then Tubbo is distracted by the other human, leaving Tommy alone again. 

Might as well be worth it to pry Wilbur out of his shell if their day was going to have any confirmation of a good ending. 

“Alright,” Tommy announces, shuffling up from his spot on Wilbur’s palm and pushing his fingers away. The human obliges, standing scarily still. “How—how uh, how do you want to play?”

“I have no fucking clue what that means,” Wilbur says.

Tommy frowns. “Okay, well, I can help you, or I can, well, not help you—which I’ll be fair, either way ends in me not helping you, unless you're really lucky. And I don’t think you’ll be lucky enough, even though you are a sad, sad guy."

“I’m not sad!”

Tommy stares at him. 

“Okay, whatever, you caught me,” Wilbur says sarcastically. “And do whatever you fucking want, I’m sure I could punt you no matter you’re advantage,” the human says, chortling. Tommy gasps. 

“Fucking try me. Bitch.”

Wilbur hums and crouches down carefully, an irritating slowness to his movements that makes Tommy’s world go by in slow-motion. He’s scrambling for purchase on the fake grass as soon as he knows he can, which happens to instantly trigger a reaction from Wilbur, who’s other hand moves to catch him. 

Tommy lands on more skin, the softness of the landing being both comforting and infuriating. 

“Oi! I can handle myself,” Tommy yells as Wilbur takes the initiative to let him down. “I value my safety, I wouldn't've jumped if I didn’t, dickhead.”

The gentle-ness continued for the remainder of the game. And despite Tommy’s request for a stronger hit, (which he did execute a couple times, until it dispersed into small and lazy hits), he never seemed to take it to heart. 

But, the game did eventually end.

There wasn’t any winner that got to celebrate, it was just a little bit of a lighter mood. Tommy, hesitant as he would be to ever admit it to the human, had taken a liking. It was rewarding to watch a more violent part of him come out the more Tommy kept pushing him.

The rest of the day was ahead of them, and Wilbur had already seemed more eager than he had been to interact with the tiny. 

—–—

EUEUEUEUEUUE IT'S REEEEEEEAAAAAL !!!!!!!!!

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