#And it started out as kind of a nightmare

[sweatersarentsweatshirts]

This is long and personal, but I just want to share I’m a former gifted kid who turned out to have ADHD and Autism.

I dropped out of high school at 18. But shouldn’t I have already graduated ? No, I had severe depression from my other undiagnosed issues so I wasn’t attending school as much as I needed to. They would’ve let me come back for another semester at 19. I only needed a few more credits to graduate. I couldn’t do it. Or maybe I did. It’s all kind of a haze because of my depression.

Seventh grade was my last year of straight A’s. I couldn’t tell you my gpa in high school, but I could tell you I once wound up yelling between the upstairs (my mom’s room) and at my brother’s room trying to get one of them to take me to school. I was 15. I couldn’t drive myself. Then two years later they were frustrated at how much school I was missing when I could drive myself.

I wanted to drop out at fourteen and take the GED. I could just skip straight to college. My mom said no. Over and over again.

Four years later I took the HiSET. They start you with some practice exams that will show how much you need to learn before you’re ready. You required to do 12 or 60 hours of classes before you can take the real test. I got put on the 12 hour option. So I showed up to the class and they had me take a longer pretest to see what they needed to teach me. I think I went two or three times before they said “you’re ready to take the tests, I don’t have to teach you anything.” Nine hours of class waived.

I aced the HiSET in one try.

I think I was 19 when I enrolled in college… I think I took the HiSET in spring, so yeah. A year later than everyone I went to high school with.

I was poor so almost all of my schooling was covered by the pell grant. I had to take out a loan for books and stuff, but most of that money went to paying utility bills for my household. I tried college, but my depression came back in full force that winter. I scraped by with my attendance but when it came to the finals… I just didn’t show up. I failed every single class, probably. I didn’t really check.

More pressure from my mom and I went back for a second semester, fully online this time. I had to write a letter begging for my financial assistance back and cited the real personal issues that were plaguing me at the time. Got accepted. I did probably five assignments total.

Finally my mom let me drop out.

So at 20 I started job searching. I’d worked at McDonald’s for a couple weeks at eighteen or so? Stopped showing up because of anxiety. Walmart for a month before my legs physically couldn’t handle standing still for eight hours in the middle of the night anymore. (Going to bed with the sun was a nightmare). I worked for Kohl’s for a single day. Black Friday. Zero training. I was a bagger the whole shift. Never went back.

Before I could really find a job, I went to a convention with a friend and… just never really came home. I picked up some stuff at one point, but I lived with them for a few months. I tried to find a job out there and failed. At least I taught my friend to drive. They had trauma around driving and didn’t get their license until after I helped. We were both early twenties.

I was guilted into coming home again because my grandma got cancer.

So I came home. I got a job at an adult goods store. It was the best job I’d had so far because there was minimal interaction and the boss was decent. They paid $8/hr. I was there for almost a full year when the pandemic hit. I was laid off. The unemployment money took two months to get to my account, but I’d found a new job by then. I was promoted to assistant manager within the seven months I worked there.

My mom didn’t live at home so my brother and I paid the bills. And then he moved out too. So at 24 I was living with a roommate in my mother’s home. I couldn’t leave. I was stuck in that damn town because if I left, who would pay the bills? Who would care for the pets? Finally. Finally she moved back. I’d had two other jobs in the mean time. Another failed job and then my lucky break. A job an hour away. I moved in with my dad for a year and looked desperately for a friend to move in with. One fell through and then.

The friend from before and another. We all moved in together. I lived with my parents until I was 26.

Eight years of anger and hopefulness and finally.

I’m free.

In $14k of debt, but I live on my own, I can drive, and I have a job.

Not bad for a high school dropout.

Can we stop using "still lives with their parents" or "unemployed" or "doesn't have a drivers license" or "didn't graduate high school" as an insult or evidence that someone is a bad person? Struggling with independence or meeting milestones is not a moral failing.

[bbystark]

♡ simon is a bad stalker part 4 ♡

badstalker!simon x reader series - pt one two three

♡ masterlist ♡ request more! ♡

summary: the date you've been waiting for dreading.

a/n: so i did the thing again where i dissapeared lol but IM BACK plz enjoy my offering

you get home safely, with soap, and you don't say a singular word. just kind of dumbly stare out the window and then at him when he helps you out of the car and into your house.

you can't stop thinking about ghost, and the fact that you quite literally cornered yourself into going on a date with your stalker

you really chalk it up to having some type of third response to danger, fight, flight or say the most ridiculous thing you possibly can. obviously you chose the third.

you go to bed that night with your cat in your arms, as if they can protect you from you're own stupid decision. you're shivering no matter how warm you try to get, and your cat throws you irritated side eyes.

you wake up with no sign of ghost. no calls, no texts, no emails. you try not to think about if he was in the house while you slept, like he had been before.

you try to have a normal day, but you're plagued with anxiety and anticipation

you decide to go outside, walk to the little coffee shop that's nearby to get fresh air and be somewhere you knew ghost hadn't been

you spend a few hours out, window shopping and trying to clear your head. you head back when the sun starts to go down, not keen on being out after dark.

what you come back to is almost comical.

you stumble through the door, eyes snapping to the huge figure in your kitchen. he turns around suddenly, and your cat is in his arms, rubbing her face against his mask. you only see it for half a second before he's setting them on the counter faster than you can blink. your cat lets out an irritated meow, and somehow even through the mask, ghost looks guilty

you laugh, you honest to god laugh. "oh my god. you fucking traitor." you whisper at your cat, trying to suppress your giggles. yeah, add this to the list of danger responses.

ghost straightens, and then you notice your surroundings. there's roses in a vase on your table, and he's cooking, there's at least 3 different pans and it smells incredible and you're dumbfounded. you stare at him, unable to say anything.

"welcome to your date love." he turns back to the stove, and you're grateful, because you feel like you can't move while he's looking. like one wrong move will make him snap and your worst nightmares will come true. you keep reminding yourself that nothing has happened before, and you take a seat in the chair at the table closest to the door.

"um, the roses are nice." you can see him cooking at this angle. "glad you like 'em. dinner will be done in a few." he doesn't turn around. he doesn't know how this will go, he's expecting you to run out at any moment, screaming bloody murder. he's trying to help you feel safe by turning his back, giving you the upper hand (or at least the illusion of the upper hand).

underneath that worry though, ghost was thriving in this scenario. it was like watching all of his fantasies come true, he couldn't help but preen under your compliment, and the ability to show you he can provide

you're still a little in shock. you don't say anything as ghost serves you dinner, your favorite, not surprising. you watch as he rolls up his mask, and takes a bite. it still doesn't convince you of the possibility of it being drugged.

"it's alright dove, not 'ere to hurt you, just 'ere to give you the date i promised." as he says it, your cat jumps onto the table, knocking over a glass of water. ghost stands, and looks down to find all the water had made it directly into his lap.

you find yourself laughing for the second time of the night. here your stalker is, looking like he peed himself. he chuckles himself, and you have to look away when you see his lopsided smile. you stand and grab a towel, temporarily forgetting the situation you were in. it was way too easy to see this as a real first date, awkward parts and all.

"thanks." he sits back down, clearing his throat. the proximity to you was intoxicating, but he was still worried about running you off.

you sit back down too, and take and slowly take a bite of the food. it's delicious, and you still can't believe the absurdity of the situation. "this is really great ghost. really." your voice is small, and music to his ears.

"thank you. m'sorry about breaking in. swear 'm just trying to make your life easier."

you decide to start testing boundaries, as one would. "maybe, since this is going... okay, you can stop coming in when i don't know? like maybe we can just keep doing this every once in a while?" damage control is all you can think of.

ghost thinks for a moment. "i dunno about that one love. how 'bout i give you a heads up when i do come in?"

"no more coming in here while i'm sleeping. and you still have to tell me when you're in my house."

"alright," he crosses his arm and leans back on the chair. do you hate how big he is because you're scared, or because you secretly like it? "i tell you when i come over, and no more coming in at night. but you 'ave to promise me one date a week."

you can't believe you're negotiating with this man. "okay." you concede.

he smiles and pulls his mask back down. he makes his way over to you, stroking your hair for half a second before clearing your plate. "look at us. arguing like a proper old couple already. "

as he does the dishes, you ask him more questions. he's answers as truthfully as he can, leaving out details here and there. no need to startle you.

you learn he was in the military, that the two men are some of the only people he's close with, that he trusts. besides you, of course. you feel like he throws that in to tell you to be wary of using this information against him.

from what you can tell, this is just a severely damaged man. the actions he was taking against you was just his reaction to loneliness, and his need to provide.

against your will, you feel the need to help him fill that hole. the need to tread lightly dissipates by the minute, and against your better judgement, you find yourself enjoying his company. and hey, he made dinner and did the dishes. that has to speak to his character somehow

later, he grabs your hand and runs rough fingers over your soft knuckles. promises he'll call, and then leaves.

and you're left alone, forced to do what you've done a lot lately; ponder your life decisions, and think about the large, surprisingly harmless stalker of yours..

[softshuji]

Haitani ran doesn't think this is working out.

You've been staying over more often lately and the signs of your departure are still there whenever you do leave. Hairs woven into the fibres of the muted grey pillows, and recently- a toothbrush that's a hot pink next to his in the bathroom. It's not much but it's evident that slowly you're creeping into his life.

Sometimes, on the nights you're not there, he finds himself wishing you were. He resists the urge to call you when he knows you're working early tomorrow and you'll likely be asleep- or if not- just simply not in the mood for company. Which is fine of course, but it doesn't mean the missing you aspect lessens at all.

Tonight is cold. The kind of cold that makes the sheets irritable against his skin, and has him shivering every time he shifts his position, and because his legs are aching from all the walking and running today, he finds himself moving and turning often from one side to the other more often. Sleep seems far away and when he casts a glance through the gap in the curtain, the pale ivory silk of moonlight slices through the sheer fabric.

He wishes you were here, and the realisation hits like a train. Too sudden, too terrifying, too end of the world for him to make any preparations, for him to do anything but accept his fate.

It's not the same with you. You don't ask for much, even when he knows you should, even when he wants you to. He wishes you would, ask more of him, make him give more, make him more all together. He wonders sometimes whether he's the only guy in your life and comes to believe he isn't. Because there is no way a girl like you doesn't receive the kind of attention he has already given you from others too, and the thought has his stomach turning. Does he want to be the only one? What would be do if he was? These are things he asks himself. Could he really give you what you needed?

Rindou - he thinks- has begun to suspect something. He's started to ask more often whether ran is seeing anyone, or whether he's okay when he finds him listless and daydreaming in the way he often does and pretends not to. Ran has always hidden behind the big brother exterior, and it's been a good cover so far- everything chalked up to responsibility and burdens and things he just has to deal with himself. Rindou has always respected that there are things that Ran just can't tell him, Ever protective of his innocence in a way that used to bother him, but doesn't so much as he got older himself.

He finds himself thinking of your syrupy excited smile often. You try not to, and you're always quick to check yourself and reign it in, despite him saying he wishes you wouldn't. You say you don't like how it looks, and that you're worried he's always going to laugh or be put off by you, and he's always pretending he's not hurt at such a statement that somehow feels like a thinly veiled insult or accusation. You don't mean it obviously, he knows this, you have troubles of your own you're desperate not to burden him with, even though he's more than happy- honoured even- to be of service to you. He likes to make you laugh often because of this. He thinks maybe if you smile more you'll be used to seeing it from his point of view. He has work to do, he knows this but he knows in tandem that the payoff is worth it.

Unfortunately however, he's not able to parade you in the way he wishes he could. In his nightmares, he finds a stray bullet in you meant for him or Rindou. He finds you in an alleyway with injuries he can't name let alone fix and he gasps awake alone, sweating in the sheets and anxiously dialing you just to hear you speak, hear your voice, to assuage the pain that comes from knowing it's more a possible reality than a far fetched nightmare.

He's always strangely distant for a few days till it passes, and rindou worries, as he often does, whether ran is ill, whether ran is keeping something from him- a little put out when he considers that the latter might be more true then the former.

But there's only so much hiding and waiting and wondering ran can do. Especially when he considers that maybe one day you might get tired of this secret keeping, this illicit relationship you can never make public and find someone who is more... Suited to you, and less like him.

But until then, he tosses and turns and looks out of the window, wondering if you're looking at the moon just like he is.

Reblogs appreciated

[floweringanna]

the people yearn for lewis hamilton angst

Till Death Do us Part

Summary: Lewis proposes to you before the LA GP and promises you something if he wins. Will he win the race?

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: This is my first fanfic so I hope you guys enjoy it, I’ve never really written angst before so sorry in advance

“Yknow…I can feel you staring at me.” His groggy morning voice spooked your from your trance, a small grin on his face but his eyes remained closed as he spoke. Your face heated up just slightly at his remark but you laughed it off with a small giggle.

“And what’s wrong with that?” You ask sweetfully.

“Nothing at all.” The driver hums, placing a kiss on your neck, then shoulder, staring up at you. You feel your heart warm at the gesture, a tired smile gracing your features. The moment is put to an abrupt stop by the sound of a familiar bark, of a certain bulldog making the both of you laugh. “I suppose it’s time for breakfast for Roscoe,” Lewis says, shaking his head just a bit. The floppy dog bounds into the room on queue, sitting beside the bed to stare up at the two of you expectantly. Your body starts to shift to rise from the bed but a tattooed hand keeps you down pressing down gently to keep you in your spot.

“I’ll get it.” Lewis assures, leaning over to place a soft kiss to your lips, there’s a small hum in between coming from you as you chase after his lips just a bit when he pulls away, making him chuckle just a bit. “I’ll be back.” he assures, rising for the comfort of your shared bed. The warmth of his body being missing already made the bed cold as you watched him with a sleepy gaze pull on a shirt and some sweatpants before playing another kiss on your forehead and exiting the room.

In the meantime you steeled back into the covers, tiredness overtaking you again as you fell into a steady sleep once more. You were never much of a morning person but Lewis always seemed to make it more tolerable. Waking up to him made life a little easier. When you woke again it was to the smell of cinnamon and eggs, the smell overtaking your senses. You groggily open an eye to see Lewis shuffling into the room with a tray covered in food, gently placing it down in front of you.

“I made you breakfast,” he smiled softly. If there was one thing that could get you out of your grumpy morning moods it had to have been for breakfast in bed, which were usually common on special occasions because you often preferred making food in the kitchen alongside the Mercedes driver, finding most of the memories to be pleasurable. You give him a lopsided grin in return, staring at the food. The gesture warmed your heart but you couldn’t quite place the occasion.

“Thank you Lew, it looks amazing” you wouldn’t lie and say the man wasn’t a good cook. You also wouldn’t lie and say you didn’t notice the fidgeting as he watched you eat. You raised an eyebrow, setting the fork down to watch him. “Okay what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” You question there was a soft tone to your voice as you spoke, unsure if you would startle him.

“Y’know…Y/N…I’d been thinking…” he starts, his hand goes to the rings on his finger, fidgeting them for a second before sucking in a breath.

Oh no. Your stomach flipped. That was never the start of anything good.

The look of surprise that spread across your face as you looked at Lewis Hamilton, the seven time formula 1 champion, slid off the bed to take a spot on one knee at the side of your bed, a small black box in hand. There was almost a nervous glint in his eyes as his movements seemed slightly more calculated than usual. This time your stomach did a different kind of flip.

“Y/N, I know these last few weeks have been a roller coaster of both good and bad….but you’ve stood with me through all of it from the PR nightmares to the sweets victories.” Something in the look in his eyes shifted to fondness rather than fear and nerves. He seemed to take a leveling breath before he continued. “And these past few years with you have been more than I could ever ask for. You’ve made me the happiest man alive and are worth more than any trophy I’ve ever won.”

You could feel your throat close a little as you knew the next words.

“So would you do me the honor of letting me win the biggest race of my life in letting me marry you?” He asked, a grin was already spreading on his face, the gap between his teeth showing since you were already nodding your head rapidly.

“Yes! Yes yes yes yes!” If your heart could explode from feeling full, it would have. You throw yourself off the bed quickly throwing yours arms around him and you both start to laugh as Lewis peppers kisses all across your face. He pauses for a second to slide the ring onto your finger, staring at it dazed for a second.

You take that moment to gently brush your thumb against his face and lift them to yours a sweet kiss shared between the two of you. You feel his lips upturn against yours and it makes you smile too. You feel a familiar push into your side Roscoe barking happily as if to say he approves, licking your face making you both burst out into laughter.

Liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 34,689 more

Ynsdiary posted a photo What an eventful break 💍 (Roscoe Approves)

lewishamilton Eventful indeed

ynsdiary ❤️

user01 WHAT

user02 HUH

georgerussell63 Congrats you two!

ynsdiary Thanks Georgie! 💕

mercedesamgf1 Took him long enough

user06 not Mercedes been knowing😭

user44 THEY'RE ENGAGED HAMILYNS HOW ARE WE DOING?!?

user09 OUR PARENTS ARE GETTING MARRIED

user65 IM NOT BREATHING OK

***

A week after it was time to return back to the paddock from break and as expected cameras flashed left and right as you and Lewis made your appearance, you holding on to Roscoe’s leash. A smile graced both of your features, waving for the pictures until you reached the garage. As soon as you entered you were met with confetti. The entire garage was cheering.

“Congrats on the engagement mate!” George said again, grinning wide. He was holding a small cake out that had a poorly crafted cake on it. You giggled a bit as you stared down at it.

“Thanks George,” you said. He’d definitely become more of a brother figure for you since you started your journey at Mercedes with Lewis. Next to Lewis, he was probably your biggest cheerleader from your first modeling gig to now.

“I’ll guess that you make this?” Lewis quirked an eyebrow, a smile twitching at the edge of his own lips.

“What? I’m not allowed to celebrate our soon to be weds?” He teased lightly. The team all took turns patting his back and congratulating the two of you before the race started. After a while the commotion died down, and they all dispersed leaving you and Lewis to stare at each other. His hands slipped their way into yours, absentmindedly twirling the ring he gave you on your finger. Raising your hand he pressed a kiss to the ring, then your hand. “I’m going to win this race for you…and when I do I’ll have a surprise when I get back.” He promised, resting his head against yours.

“You could get any place and I’d still be proud.” You whispered back, “I’ll be cheering for you Lewis. I’ll always be cheering for you no matter what.” You leaned up, kissing him warmly. For a second, the sounds of the paddock all faded away. It seemed to be just you and Lewis. You poured all you could into it, showing that you meant every word. When he pulled back he smiled softly “I’ve gotta go get ready for the race ok?” He said once he pulled back. You nod, placing one last kiss before he leaves, his fingers slowly slipping from yours.

You found a seat next to Toto who gave you a half smile. George was already in his racing suit as he sat down next. He nudged your shoulder, “He loves you a lot you know.” He wasn’t looking at you as he spoke. “I’ve never seen him more infatuated with anyone else.” George almost sounded distant, as if he was lost in the past for a moment. “You’re good for him” he looked over at you, catching your eye.

“I try to be. He’s my world.” You confirmed with certainty. George lifted a hand, ruffling your hair. “Take care of him.” Was all he said before standing. The race was soon to start and both he and Lewis slipped into their cars, tugging their helmets over their heads.

It was only a matter of time before you heard the iconic “lights out and the way we go” was heard over your headphones that you had pressed against your ears. You leaned in closer to the TV eagerly watching as the cars took off for the Las Vegas GP. It was no surprise that Max had held P1, Charles holding P2, and P3 belonging to Lando, behind him Lewis then George. A cloud of dirty air consumed the track in an instant and the announcers were already on their job explaining the rapid changes.

Charles was putting up quite the fight with Max rearing close behind him on turn one, failing to overtake him, but easily correcting the mistake by turn three. Lando had gotten a late start, easily surrendering his P3 spot from him, to Lewis having to deal with being sandwiched in between both Mercedes drivers.

You sat on the edge of your seat, the roaring of the crowd, and your own voice being drowned out by the engines of the cars. You hadn’t realized that you were cheering maniacally until you noticed the look that Toto was giving you almost a look of amusement. Settling down in your chair, you smiled sheepishly.

The LA circuit strip had a total of 50 laps. Throughout the race, there had been quite a few yellow flags. Stroll, Gastly, and George, who now sat by you all were out of the race and by the 50th lap Max and Lewis were neck and neck. They rounded turn 13 sector 3 racing side-by-side on the street. You could tell Lewis was trying his best to overtake the Red Bull driver on the straight, but you knew that Red Bull always happened to be a little better in that department. You heard Lewis curse slightly over the radio about something that you didn’t quite catch, pressing the small intercom button trying the best you could to encourage him.

“You’re doing great honey, remember, I will always love you no matter seven time, or eight time world champion,” you hummed. Lewis sucked in a breath before chuckling lightly.

“I really do love you.” He admitted before rounding turn 14 in that moment you felt your heart beat out of your chest. Roscoe’s barking was louder than normal as Max‘s car sped up before attempting to overtake Lewis‘s car. You watched as your soon to be husband, rounded the outer edge, roughly yanking the wheel to dodge the car, but the front wing and tire of his car had already collided with the back of Max's, sending both the cars flying.

The world seemed to quiet once more as Max’s car spun off to the side flipping once crashing into the barrier while Lewis took a very different approach. The screeching was unmistakable as front wing flew off, and the tire tilted over Lewis’s car flipped once, then twice, then three more times each one taking more off the halo of the car. You knew FIA had them add that part so that way the driver‘s heads didn’t touch the ground if their car flipped over, but you don’t think it did much of a help as his car flipped right over the barrier almost re-creating the same scene that Zhou had created in the 2022 Silverstone race.

You released a breath once his car finally stopped turning, thanking God that it was finally over. You knew Lewis had gotten in the crashes before they were a part of an F1 driver’s career but something about this one seemed different. Feeling as if you spoke too soon within your head, his car erupted into roaring blue and red flames. You knew there was a problem the moment you hadn’t heard Lewis cursing over the radio. Your heart rate quickened, calling him over the comms, hoping that he would answer. Your eyes stared at the screen and absolute horror as Max climbed out of his car running over to the flames doing his best to help. You heard someone shouting about how the car was on fire but it all sounded fuzzy in your head. You could only hear a loud buzzing sound airing out everything else paired with the sound of your heart that was beating in your ears. watching as they desperately tried to remove Lewis from his car. Everyone in the stands had gone quiet in anticipation, hoping for the driver to emerge from the flames, but to no avail.

You ripped off your headset, and you felt George’s arm try to catch yours, you ripped away from his grip in an instant, tears streaming down your face. “LEWIS??” You could hardly hear yourself over the panic. “Lewis, please talk to me!?!” You neared the crash on the opposite side of the barrier, being pulled back slightly by some of the fire crew, telling you it was too dangerous.

“Don’t tell me what’s too dangerous my finance is in that fucking car!” You snapped, a mix of anguish, rage, and fear all in your voice. “Ms. L/N we need you to back up so we can try our best to get a hold of the situation.” They stayed calm as they spoke, only irking you more. Couldn’t they see that the love of your life was trapped in that car, burning more by the second. You were about to give them a piece of your mind before you felt a soft arm trap around your shoulders. Your head snapped to look at George who was holding you back.

Your eyebrows furrowed at him in confusion. “George! Let me go.” You hissed, already thrashing against his arms. “Y/N you need to calm down.” His voice didn’t sound the same. It sounded unsure. Weary. Only then you noticed that he wasn’t looking at you. He was looking at Lewis’s car, the one that after five or seven minutes was still on fire only just now dying down. His arm tightened a bit around you before he turned your head to press it against his chest and you almost missed why.

They were pulling a body out that was limp and covered in soot. You didn’t have to guess twice to know it was Lewis’s.

Your body shook a bit, reality setting in hot tears burning down your face. You had no idea what was going to happen or if he was ok or not. George was trying to make sure you didn’t see any of it. Shielding you from not only the crash but the now swarming press. He didn’t answer any of their questions as he weaved through the crowd, making sure to keep your face hidden.

The next few minutes were a blur from going to the hospital to being told he didn’t make it. To the screaming and crying and hitting against George’s chest, all the way to the silent drive home. The entire time he’d stayed composed. When he managed to get you inside sat on the edge of your bed in your shared room with Lewis.

You felt eerily hollow as you stared at the wall. Roscoe walked slowly over at your feet. “You should take a shower and try to get some rest..” George said quietly, he was squatting in front of you. You managed a small nod. He stared at you a moment longer before he stood and left the room.

He didn’t leave you alone that night.

***

It has been four weeks since George had stayed with you that night and taken care of you the next morning. Now you stayed in the house that was emptier than normal. Roscoe followed you around every second of the day seemingly more than usual. You assumed it was because he could sense Lewis was gone and you enjoyed the company but nothing could replace how cold your bed felt in the morning. Or how terrible you felt in the morning which only seemed to get increasingly worse by the day. You hadn’t gone outside and you couldn’t face the public so you’d been radio silent ever since. Now you just tended to DoorDash most of your food, and bedrot of the day.

Today wasn’t any different as you rose from your bed, shifting a bit as Roscoe grumbled, then he jolted up. You sighed, “Hungry?” You whispered to the dog shuffling slowly but surely from bed. You made your way to the kitchen pouring half of his dry food and opening the can to his wet food to mix it in. As soon as the smell hit your nostrils you felt sick, immediately rushing to the bathroom to puke. The puking was normal to you now but most of the time it wasn’t even before you made it to the kitchen.

As you barfed into the toilet Roscoe sat at your feet, small whines falling from him. Coughing a bit, you looked at the dog groaning a bit. “I know, I know it’s getting bad…” you sighed to yourself. Then you blinked. Ever so slowly against the better of your judgment you opened the cabinet. Near the top was the test you had been dreadfully avoiding. But today you were going to suck it up.

All you had to do was piss on a stick.

So you did.

Your legs bounced as you waited out the time, Roscoe being your only form of a support as if he sensed your anxiety. He did his best to bury his arm underneath yours making space for himself. Your finger traced over the pregnancy test, uncertainty taking over. Before you could stop yourself and you flip it over. Your eyes clouded over. Positive. It was positive.

If there was one thing that Lewis didn’t get wrong was that he certainly left you a present. You were pregnant. Hot tears pressed down your face as you screamed, holding your stomach shaking as you sobbed on the bathroom floor of a house that was far too big for just you and your dog.

[kitab00m101]

Answering based on the main character of my book :)

She doesn't have a bed, she grew up not having one, why start using one now? She just sleeps on whatever patch of floor seems most comfortable.

She is definitely not freind shaped. She has the demeanor of a caution sign, scary/mean looking but just as uneased around you as you feel around her.

She hasn't seen rain yet, but I would think she would enjoy the feeling of it soaking her clothes. Although she wouldn't be able to enjoy the feeling for long, since being cold and wet isn't very healthy for a cold-blooded being.

Shr would look at the rock for a moment before handing it back and asking who died.

I feel like she would play as a paladin just because it's ironic to the role she plays in her own story.

She wouldn't enjoy video games all that much, except maybe mario cart. Not to play, but to watch others play (she likes seeing her friends be competitive)

In the first book, she is seen bullying one of her "cousins" because he is all in all a snot-wad of a person. He pretends to flirt with her, which naturally ticks her off, and he contributes nothing to the family, another thing that ticks her off.

Her first language is English/Latin (she learned them simultaneously as a child). She ends up learning Spanish because her close friends speak it, and she learns a form of sign language used by one of the humanoid species in the books.

She is very talented at cooking meat. Aside from that, she is useless in the kitchen.

She'd go on a tangent about how humans are the reason the war went on for centuries longer than it should have, and how humans are the worst (this is what first book her would say, 2-4 book her is chill with humans)

She is a special subspecies of her kind, that are able to go through monstrous transformations with an excruciatingly painful process. Those like her are only born every 80 years.

She deeply enjoys rock climbing! (Or just climbing in general)

Would she survive a week in the wilderness? Considering she hatched in the middle of the woods and kept herself and her family alive with nothing but a handful of knives for over 20 years, I'd say she'd be just fine.

In book 2 she sees the ocean for the first time. She describes it as a sky of mercury, beautiful but too dangerous to touch.

Because she was living in the woods for most of her life, she was used to being an unhealthy weight. It wasn't until book two that she was let know that being able to see her ribcage for a woman her size was not normal.

Whenever she is facing something that has the ability to get her shaken up, the first person she turns to is her human best freind, the queen of panic attacks and nervous breakdowns. He is always able to help her out.

Most likely, her nightmare would be about her mother's deaths. Or the fires that burnt down the only two homes she's ever known. She hates fire.

Serious answer, one of her loved ones. Joking answer, medium rare ribs.

She doesn't have 3 belongings to keep lmao. She's got her knife and it's sheath, and that's about it.

She's had too many scarring experiences, or moments she regretted to just choose one. Her whole life has been one thing after another, and yet without those experiences, she wouldn't have gotten the blissful ending she has. She can still be traumatized by the awful things that happened to her, and believe she is who she is because of them.

For a long time, she thought that one day some human would just gun her down randomly and that would be the end. As the story goes on, my girl starts to get a serious "immortal" complex.

If she had one day left to live, she would spend it with her found family, the people she went through all this pain for. She would also set aside some time to spend her last moments with her lover, the person she cares most about in the entire universe.

Yet Another OC Ask Game

After hoarding them for months, I decided to make my own. Let’s go from fluffy to angsty, shall we >:)

🛏️ What does your OC’s bed look like? What would they like their bed to look like?

🐁 Capybaras are friend-shaped. What shape does your OC have?

🌧️ What is the favorite thing for you OC to do on a rainy day?

🪨 Someone gifts your OC a shiny rock. What do they do with it?

🐹 Which would be your OCs favorite Pokemon? What kind of trainer would they be?

🎲 If your OC played a pen and paper RPG, what class would they pick? Warrior, mage, thief, ranger, cleric, paladin, druid, necromancer, bard (or other, if that’s not enough).

🎮 If your OC lives or would live in the modern world, would they like video games? What would be their favorite game?

👎 Is there someone your OC can’t stand, despite them being on the same side or sharing basic values?

🌈 Does your OC speak more than one language? If so, how many and which?

🥪 On a scale from ‘burns water’ to ‘5 course menu’ how well can your OC cook?

📚 Your OC has to improvise a 10 minute lecture about a topic of their choosing. What do they chose?

🪄 Does your OC have any special powers? If so, are they normal in this OC’s universe?

🎨 Does your OC have any craft skill, as a hobby or profession? If so which?

🌳 Would your OC survive for a week on their own in the wilderness?

🌊 Has your OC ever seen the ocean? If not, do they want to? What do they think of it?

🥞 Does your OC take proper care of themselves, like getting enough sleep and eating properly?

🤝 Does your OC have someone they want at their side when they are scared? Who?

🌌 If your OC has a nightmare, what’s it most likely about?

🪤 What is one thing that could be used to lure your OC into a trap?

🎒 If your OC had to pick three things of all their belongings to keep, which would they chose?

🕐 Was there ever a time your OC would have given everything to turn back the clock 5 minutes? What happened?

🎭 What is the one thing your OC regrets most? Would they undo it, considering how their life turned out?

🔪 What does your OC think how they’ll die? 

📅 If your OC had one day left to live, how would they spend it?

[kurogane2512]

you as chief of mbcc sitting in your chair with chameleon on your lap (side ways) head buried in your neck telling you about her worries about those sinners (special conversation 1)

Game: Path to Nowhere

Characters: Chameleon x gn!reader (Chief)

Type: SFW, Fluff

You weren't sure how you ended up in this scenario. As the Chief of MBCC, you had a myriad of duties concerning the Sinners. Looking after the Sinners' psychological and emotional needs was immensely important hence you'd have to make special arrangements for each of them, catered to their conditions. One particular arrangement was the one you were currently in, having none other than Chameleon nestled in your lap.

"Mmm, I always look forward to these sessions, Chief~" Chameleon husked near your ear in her sultry voice, her lips grazing your lobe.

Despite being a highly reputed psychologist herself, Chameleon had her fair share of mental troubles that she couldn't solve by herself. This arrangement began as a simple meeting you decided to have with her 3 months ago to find out how to help her, initially you would simply talk with her about anything she wished but over time she became daring and started asking for more, knowing well you'd go as far as it took to help her. So, here she was sitting on your lap sideways and resting against your body. A passerby would think you both were lovers by the intimate position.

"Chameleon, aren't you a bit too close today....?" you tried to protest but it seems your resistance only made her come closer, her arms wrapping around your neck now.

"Am I? What if I told you I'm craving some extra attention today, hm?~"

You knew it was futile to argue with her, so you accepted your fate with a sigh and kept your arm around her waist to steadily hold her. You couldn't see her face but you could swear she smirked the moment she felt your hand around her, she knew you wouldn't deny her.

"Well, how was your day today, Chief? Anything interesting happened?~"

"Hmm, not really. It was the usual routine today. I suppose the exciting things only happen on missions." you replied with a chuckle, making Chameleon smile too.

"What about you? How do you feel now?"

Chameleon slid her finger down your cheek, tracing your face intricately while pondering.

"You must be knowing the answer to that, Chief. You have your eyes and ears on us all the time~"

"Well, I like listening to you talk about it yourself. I can't know your thoughts by looking through the cameras."

Chameleon hummed and hugged you tighter, burying her face in your neck and relaxing. You weren't sure how to respond to this since she never did this kind of thing before, but you felt it was best to let her be and continue holding her the same way.

"Something has been on my mind all day and I was waiting for our session to finally talk about it. You must be already aware of this fact since you keep track of everyone's day to day life..... Well, at night, many Sinners suffer from terrible nightmares. I'm also one of them but thanks to your efforts, I have been better recently. Still, I'm well aware that everyone's condition is different and they require special treatment."

You furrowed your brows for a moment, trying to understand what she was meaning to say.

"I know.... Sometimes it's even terrifying for me since I can feel it through the shackles. Earlier, I would keep getting up at night cause of the disturbances in the shackles but now I have gradually learned to subdue it from my side. Still, I cannot erase their nightmares completely...."

Chameleon could sense a hint of disappointment and regret in your tone, a feeling of guilt you had over not being able to help the Sinners properly. This gave her assurance that she was right to bring this up with you.

"We share the same sentiment then, Chief. I had a.... proposal for this. Would you mind letting me talk with them individually and privately? Perhaps I can delve into the root cause of their nightmares and suggest better treatments that the resident psychologist cannot."

You weren't completely surprised hearing this, you had somehow anticipated it. Perhaps you had finally started to understand her on a deeper level.

"That is.... very kind of you, Chameleon, truly. But, don't mind me asking this, why do you want to do this?"

Chameleon softly chuckled, "Why, I'm still a clinical psychologist, Chief. Are you surprised to hear that I perhaps care for these Sinners? Or do you doubt my intents and feel I'm planning something sinister, hm?~"

"....Neither of that. I'm just a little surprised to hear you make this first step, that's all. I asked for your reasoning only because I don't want you to burden yourself and think that perhaps it's your responsibility as a psychologist to help them. Irrespective of your own condition, you don't have to feel obligated to do something like this. But if you truly wish to out of goodwill then I will support you."

Chameleon couldn't help but genuinely smile at your words then leaned forward to kiss your cheek.

"My, the way you become so chivalrous is quite endearing, Chief~"

You blushed for a moment then cleared your throat, "A-Ahem, however, I have some conditions for this. I trust you but I still need to follow some protocols and exercise general cautions. You can meet them by yourself but I need to be in close proximity, I'd prefer to do it in the interrogation room if it's okay otherwise I will think of another way."

Chameleon nodded with a grin, "As you say, Chief. I trust you to make the right call~"

You smiled in acceptance then suddenly felt her come closer and hold you tightly, so much so that she was breathing in your scent and you could feel her breath tickle your skin.

"Thank you, Chief."

They were simple words but they meant a lot to both of you.

"It's nothing, I'm just doing my job...."

Chameleon chuckled as she pulled back and cupped your face, her eyes flickering to your lips.

"Hehe, always so humble and adorable.... Oh, Chief, some day you are going to awaken the desires buried deep in my heart. If that happens, I wonder if you'd be able to bear them, hehe~"

Your lips curled up in a smirk, "Don't underestimate me, Chameleon...." You suddenly pulled her closer by her waist, making your lips almost touch hers.

"You should be the one ready to tame the beast if you awaken it~"

Chameleon's eyes flared up in excitement and she didn't waste another second to press her lips to yours. Your lips moved with hers in a passionate manner, ravaging each other like animals in heat. Her body fully leaned into you now, her hands possessively holding your face and tilting it as she pleased to kiss you deeper and harder.

"Ah, only you could turn my nightmares into dreams, my toy~"

[badaboomx]

Did I mention... (Bada Lee x Reader)

PAIRING: G!P Bada Lee x Fem!Reader.  SETTING: Underground dancer Bada Lee is quite the popular girl in town and way out of your league. Or so you think. WORDS: 6k PART: 1 of 2

ⓘ  No smut for this part, only delicious build up! Some risque insinuation towards the end.

“Here,” a tall, cool dancer said to you in a low tone, holding a piece of chocolate and offering it to you.

Playfully, you shook your head with a big grin to boot. A nice offer you would take with no hesitation any time, but tonight you felt all kinds of playful after the adventures for the night. 

“Oh?” said the dancer, approaching you and getting so close that you could only back up against the wall now. With chocolate still in hand, she grabbed you from under your jaw with the other. “Open,” she commanded, lowly, that playful smirk still plastered on her face. “Be a good girl and open up.”

It was like butterflies blooming everywhere on your body, tickling skin and making the hairs of your body perk up and sway at the tension. Body against body, the idle sounds of the busy world around you an accompanying piece. Your lips parted, opening for her, and you just watched as she slowly and carefully placed that piece of chocolate in your mouth, but before she could remove her hand you cheekily wrapped your lips around her fingers and sucked them, pulling them out of you, just to watch her expression. Just to hear that reaction from her.

And I bet you wonder how you got here.

Well, let’s go back a few.

Let’s start with the fact that you were so bored you felt you could dislocate your shoulders and have an infinitely better time.  Drunken bodies pushed past you stumbling, making you spill the drink you have not touched since you got it; wild frat boys dared each other to drink more and more with weirder contraptions while a good chunk of the attendees kept within their groups or kept themselves busy with their phones. Or making out with their dates or one-night stands, if not outright fucking but you weren’t here to confirm that. You just… wanted some fun, but that was nowhere to be seen in the sea of students that you cared little for. The music didn’t even blare bombastically from the speakers, a low and chill (but admittedly lame) mix of the most generic copyright free beats found on youtube and it seemed to never end in your perspective. Succinctly put, this party sucked pretty bad. You had been standing there on the corner effectively for two hours and all conversation you tried to have failed immensely for a variety of reasons we don’t even have time to recount. 

What a way to kick off your exciting new life, huh?

The first party you’ve gotten invited to and it has turned out to be a waste of time – and a waste of a good outfit. Being new in town had its drawbacks, and they seemed to outweigh the pros of getting to meet new people and starting over fresh. What a damn shame. At one point, you just left that cup half full and slithered away before any drunk dude tried to talk you into staying in the party. Surprisingly, slipping out felt not only like you were a lame party pooper, but like you suddenly had the spotlight with several people pointing out that you were leaving and even asking what’s up. What a goddamn nightmare.

“I have never seen more dead people in a party,” you said jokingly to your roommate, Lee Seoyoung, who was dressing up for a party of her own and was willing to listen to you vent before she went out.

“I warned you,” she tutted. “Those people are only entertained by booze and you don’t even like alcohol all that much.”

With a sigh, you plopped down on the couch, still dressed to the nines. “Is my new life here going to be a bore just like at home?”

“No,” Seoyoung began. “I told you that you can tag along with me tonight, you idiot,” she said so casually as she was putting on her shoes.  

You sighed, sitting back up. The idea seemed good, more fun than whatever the fuck was the party you just escaped. Still, you had your doubts. “It just doesn’t feel like my scene, I don’t wanna stick out and be bothersome for you.”

“You’re just scared to check it out,” Seoyoung poked, teasing you. 

And you couldn't really deny that. It did intimidate you a bit. Mostly because Seoyoung explained before that this party was some sort of underground party. Music, dancing, live performances and battles, all unlike the frat boy disaster. It didn’t seem like your scene, you know? As described by Seoyoung (Or, well, Lusher as she was called in her dancer circle), these people were pretty cool, sounded tough as nails and – somewhere in your irrational part of your brain – sounded like they would tease you out of the place. To boot, this party was only attended by those who were IN and knew it was happening. That alone sounds exclusive, like you have to earn your way in.

But you technically had, you just lucked out in working for it as much.

Seoyoung – er, Lusher – stood up and grabbed you by the wrist and pulled. “Up, we’re going.”

“But Luuuushh–.”

“Just check it out for today, then if you don’t really like it you can just not go, deal?” Lusher insisted with a pout of her own.

And you couldn’t say no to your roommate that has been nothing but an angel to you as a new arrival. So, you accepted, letting Lusher drag you out of your cocoon and open an exciting world to you.

The guy guarding the front door was intimidating at first glance, but upon seeing you and Lusher approach his demeanor changed to an enthusiastic and friendly one. Lusher greeted him and told him you were tagging along with her for the night. 

“She’s new in town,” Lusher patted your back.

“She looks like it,” the guy teased, pointing at your eyes. “She looks like a scared puppy.”

And he was not wrong, but once it was brought up, you tried your best not to look like it. With encouragement from Lusher and the guy, he let you both in. A well lit hallway with some party goers chilling away from the crowded party and the music to perhaps chat more calmly, yet it was as intimidating as anything. You felt as if they discreetly stared at you, judgmentally, when in reality they only looked curiously and moved on. It was hard to get out of that headspace, so new to something like this in an already new town. 

Walking down the hall with Lusher was equally nerve wrecking, feeling the muffled music grow a little louder with every step. Turning the corner, walking down another hall, the music now engulfing you with its catchy rhythm, the door opening to you and revealing a very vibrant, moved party with great music coming off proper speakers. An actual crowd of people danced, while another chunk of the crowd hung out, either standing or sitting elsewhere. It felt and looked different, even the atmosphere was different. No fancy lightings, no fancy decorations or structure – just a repurposed warehouse with plenty of space that has been cleverly remodeled with little budget. It looked and felt like one of those underground party places in movies and music videos.

“Cool, right?” Lusher said loudly, making herself clear atop the chatting crowd and the dance music. 

You were almost overwhelmed, looking at her still looking like a lost puppy.

“C’mon, it’s less intimidating than it looks,” Lusher insisted and tugged you along, making both of your ways deeper into the heart of the party. 

You weren’t sure if Lusher was just saying this to make you feel better or if it was truly as she said. Either way, you stuck close to her and nearly clung to her hand for dear life as you traversed through the confusing mass of bodies. Some people even greeted her, acknowledging her with a cool tilt of their head, an enthusiastic shout, or a secret handshake. A fascinating world where everyone was familiar with one another to some extent at least, you surely felt like you stuck out. 

“Yo, Lusher!” one of the party goers greeted. “Bringing a girlfriend along at last, huh?”

Lusher laughed and shook her head. “Nah, not this time. She’s my new roomie.”

“Sweet!” the stranger said, looking at you up and down. “She looks like a scared puppy–.”

“Yeah, I’m breaking her in,” Lusher quickly rebutted, trying not to dwell on you lest you become more scared. “Hey, where are my girls?”

“Ah, I’ve only seen Bada and Tatter,” they looked around and pointed towards the corner of the warehouse – a place filled with booths and other seats. “There they are.”

“Thanks,” Lusher and the stranger did a handshake that you have no idea how was possible and bid farewell, heading towards the elusive location. 

En route to meet the so-called ‘girls’ you heard someone pick up the mic and start talking, getting the crowd to holler and shout. It was so overwhelming, passing through masses of people you didn’t recognize and listening to whatever the person was trying to say while clinging to Lusher’s hand. God, maybe this wasn’t your scene after all.

Then, you saw them.

“Ah, there they are,” Lusher shouted, pointing at them for you to see them. And you have never felt more nervous. “That’s Tatter,” Lusher pointed to a girl in blonde with a resting bitch face who was casually chatting up to… 

“And that’s Bada,” Lusher pointed to a woman whose aura was imposing and intimidating. It took you a second to truly take in who you were observing, even while Lusher was dragging you up to meet them.

Bada, whoever that woman was, looked as intimidating as the word itself. A brunette – wait, two-toned, brunette with blonde streaks – donning a black beanie, matching black baggy pants, and a gray hoodie with a cool design down the arms. Even when talking to someone she seemed to know she exuded an air of coolness you could only describe as imposing. By presence alone, you couldn’t tell if she was a rapper or a dancer but you were certain that she was a performer, as if you could feel that she was born to be on stage.

It made you nervous.

Especially when she turned to watch you and Lusher fast approaching, tapping Tatter and pointing to watch. Tatter jumped off her seat first and Bada slowly followed, a lot more relaxed than Tatter who seemed to be anxious to talk to Lusher. In comparison to Tatter and Lusher, Bada was a giant too. Broad shouldered, lanky and tall. All the makings for a menacing person who could devour you in a second. Yet, upon greeting Lusher with a hug, she smiled ever so slightly.

Now you didn’t know exactly how to feel.

“Glad to see you made it,” Bada said, patting Lusher’s head.

“I can’t just miss a party,” Lusher pulled away and looked back at you, pulling you in closer. “Here’s my new roomie, you remember I told you about her?”

Bada looked at you for a moment that seemed to stretch on and on. Confusing feelings bubbled in your gut, waiting for Bada to do or say something – anything – as you stood there like a fish out of water. Finally, while Lusher was giving Tatter a hug, Bada stretched out her hand to you. “You’re the new face, right?”

You nodded, then tentatively gave her hand a shake.

“You look like a scared puppy, you know that?” Bada said, a subtle smirk coming to her lip. 

“Yeah…” And for some reason, hearing it from her made… your heart flutter. 

Tatter and Lusher quickly got engulfed in a conversation of their own, gossip taking the wheels above manners really, and Bada – having noted this – got closer to you.  

“Never been to a party like this before, have you?” 

“Is it too obvious?” You looked up at Bada, who kept eyeing you curiously, like you were someone from a different planet. Yet, it wasn’t ever rude, just boldly inquisitive. “Yeah, we didn’t have these in my town, I think.”

“That you knew of,” Bada shrugged, slipping her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants. “We don’t bite though, baby. You’ll be fine.”

Baby…? Ah, something like that was not something you heard often. You would generally find it condescending or patronizing, but coming out of Bada? It was almost heavenly, and you didn’t even want to feel that way! You can’t just get nervous and charmed this easily. You sighed out and scratched your head. “I don’t know, you people here look pretty tough,” you paused, looking at her. “And hungry.”

A soft chuckle came out with a smirk, Bada looked around at the crowd around all of you. “Half of these people are mushy for the right things, don’t worry about it.”

That made you curious. Even if you hesitated in the question, you let it out anyways. “Are you like that, too?”

Bada kept quiet for a second, the ghostly essence of a smirk still there on her lips as she shrugged. So cool, like she was tacitly telling you that you wouldn’t know – and you would only find out if she wanted you to. That silence was far from awkward, it was rather refreshing, like Bada wasn’t afraid of silence (or, well, silence between the two of you, considering there was a whole party going on behind you). And she wasn’t afraid of looking at you in the eye as she let the silence flow. Warmth started to spread on your cheeks, painting your face a shade of pink and tell-taling how you were feeling about Bada staring at you like that.  

“Bada?” 

You and Bada turned to see Lusher and Tatter. 

“I need to talk to Tatter alone for a second, can you watch over my roomie?” 

You stood up straight the second you heard that. Was she really just going to leave you like that? 

Bada nodded. “I’ll take care of her, you do what you need to do,” she said like she was a leader, concisely and firmly �� like she was a reliable person and could take care of it. Perhaps it was a bit of a late connection, but it had dawned on you then as Lusher and Tatter walked away that you were standing in front of Lusher’s dance crew leader, and her mentor.

The tall woman looked at them walk away, just to know where they were heading off, while you looked up at Bada with this brand new perspective. And you were getting a little more nervous. 

Lusher had spoken to you briefly about her dance team and her leader, but not by name. What you knew about this elusive leader was that she was quite the popular lady among the dancer and rapper circle. A once-rapper that fell in love with dancing and switched specialties, now fully a dancer that battles occasionally and competes with others in tournaments. She’s considered quite a competent battler and a very talented dancer (and choreographer) and quite the ladies magnet. You didn’t quite know why for that last one, but it made you nervous.

“Yo,” Bada said, pulling you out of your own thoughts with a snap close to your eyes. 

You looked up at her again, gulping and hoping she didn’t hear or notice that.

“You okay over there?” She merely asked.

You cleared your throat and tried so hard to play it cool. “Y-yeah!”

Bada looked at you in silence, face completely impassive before she chuckled a little. “C’mon, sit down.”

You went to do just that, trying to hide the fact that you felt your knees weak enough to give in at any second. But you soon sat down, facing the big moving crowd full of life. Bada had taken her seat near you but at an arm’s length, grabbing a bottle from the table before placing her feet on it casually. You can hear your parents saying that’s a rude gesture, but you can’t help but to find it very… familiar, casual, even cool. 

Then silence, at least between the two of you. You couldn’t really be as comfortable as Bada seemed to be, and you felt your palms sweating already, and you could tell Bada was staring at you. As if she was waiting to see how long it’ll be until you said something to break up the ice. Amused by you, perhaps, or maybe secretly getting a kick out of making you just a bit nervous. 

“So,” you broke first, pouting a bit. If you were going to be stuck with her for the time being, might as well try to get to know her, right? You thought to ask her something about herself, and so you began.

 “You…” 

But you trailed off, looking at Bada. 

That woman was just… staring at you, patiently waiting for you to continue but you couldn’t really keep your mind away from getting distracted as you saw the woman upon closer inspection. Her wide, full lips donning a strikingly pink tone, almost beckoning for you to touch them or to feel them on your body; her nose lovingly sculpted in harmony with her eyes. The way she looked at you, with her facial expression still neutral, made you wonder what she was thinking at that moment. By the time she spoke, nothing in her face changed. Just a blink of her eyes.

“I…?” Bada prodded, trying to get you to say what you wanted.

“Uhh,” you nervously rubbed your neck. What was it that you were gonna ask her? Damn it, you couldn’t remember. 

Bada chuckled a bit. “We got time before they come back, don’t worry.”

The levity made you smile shyly at her. “Sorry.”

Bada shrugged, taking a sip from her drink before she spoke again. “I don’t mind. At least you’re not pretending to be above us or cool.”

“P-people do that a lot?” You stammered out against your better judgment, but genuinely curious about it.

“Oh yeah. Especially to me,” Bada instantly replied. “You’re doing good so far.”

That made you feel better, and a little less nervous.

But before the silence could sit, Bada up and asked you a question herself. “What brings you here if this isn’t your scene?”

You shrugged. “I was at a frat party before this. It sucked.”

“Yeah,” Bada laughed, leaning back and resting her arm on the top of the booth’s cushion. So laid back, comfortable, but still keeping her distance. “Lusher told me those guys over there don’t know how to party at all.”

Her laugh was nice, you wanted to hear it again. Not realizing it, you scooted closer to her as you spoke, feeling somehow magnetically pulled now. “It’s not the first time?”

Bada shook her head. “Nah, it’s been something Lusher learned real quick when she enrolled there.”

“Guess I learned too,” you said, glancing at her and noticing that she’s… eyeing you. Up and down, like she’s analyzing you now that she’s close enough. You tried not to let that get to your nerves. “I-I just wanted to have a fun night, meet the place I’m gonna live in for a while, make friends, you know?”

Well, you stammered a little but you finished the sentence.

Bada nodded, sympathetic but not saying anything for a second.

“And this isn’t my scene, b-but Lusher insisted and I think she’s so cool. You guys are cool too, but you people scare me, you just seem so tough and–.”

Bada chuckled then, putting her hand up to stop you from speaking more. “Calm down, puppy. I got you.”

You blushed in embarrassment, tightly pressing your lips together as if to stop you from screwing this up more somehow. 

Bada just looked at you though, an unmistakable glimpse of fondness so palpable in her eyes at the way she looked at you. “Do I scare you?” Emphasis on the I.

Yes. Yes. Oh my god, yes. She scared you in a way that was so exciting you couldn’t even put it into words. She fascinated you so much, like a brand new story unraveling before you. Lips parted, you were ready to say something. 

But words weren’t coming out.

Bada was willing to wait patiently, seriously curious, but a tapping on her shoulder brought her out of the conversation. You could almost sense a vague annoyance in her eyes before she turned to see who it was.

“You busy, Bada?” A stranger, someone who barely acknowledged you.

“I’m totally free right now,” Bada said firmly, but you could tell there was a twinge of sarcasm sprinkled on top of it. “What is it?”

“We need you to take the stage for a second, the guys playing after the DJ are caught on some fucking traffic, can you believe it?”

Bada nodded slowly, like she barely cared. “Crazy,” she slowly looked over to you. “Traffic on a Saturday night, can you believe it?”

You had to stop yourself from smiling and giggling at Bada’s reaction to this sudden request.

“We already got someone but we also–.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Bada waved her hand and stood up, getting the guy to be quiet. “Explain it to me on the way there,” she then looked at you, leaning in so she doesn’t have to shout over the music. “I’ll be back in a snappy, you be a good girl and wait here.”

That sent shivers down your spine. It was a direct command, full with a nickname to get your legs turning into jelly. You could only look at her and nod rapidly, hypnotized, probably looking like a scared little puppy. 

With that, Bada walked away with the guy. Confident, chin tilted up, leading the way for the guy who kept yapping. Just by watching her walk away you felt so insecure, and it didn’t take long for you to notice it. Like suddenly the support beam that was Bada (and by extension Lusher) was ripped out from under you. So, you remained seated like the good girl you were.

To distract yourself, you wondered what exactly was Bada going to do on stage. Curiosity built up more and more, considering Bada was the leading lady of a dance crew and if Bada was so popular, she had to be good right?

The DJ finished his set and bid farewell for the night, introducing two last-minute hosts to fill the stage (and stretch the time) and entertain the already hyped crowd. The crowd welcomed Bada and an equally tough looking lady with warm applause and cheers. Soon enough, you understood what was that magnetism that Bada seemed to have on people. Her charismatic presence was palpable even on stage; from the way she held the microphone, the way she walked around on stage like she was born on it and owned it, to the way she interacted with the other host and the audience. So smoothly, like there was no one watching. 

Her true power came on when both hosts decided to host a little impromptu battle against each other. Lyrically and physically. By physical I mean dancing, this isn’t a fight club. Though you were sure that Bada knew of an underground fight club somewhere. First, they both duked it out on a freestyle rap. Frankly, you couldn’t even hear what they were saying, observing the crowd gather closer and cheer for the punchlines that both girls were throwing out there. You were just in awe watching Bada’s passion for this art form, the way she spoke to the microphone and the attractive vein on her already attractive neck, the gestures she made like it was second nature to her–.

Oh you looked like an idiot didn’t you? Jaw dropped, leaning in, absolutely enwrapped in the spectacle.

The crowd decided and after a neck and neck battle Bada lost this part of the battle. The face-off wasn’t over, though. Soon enough, a hard hitting instrumental blasted through the speakers, its rhythm instantly infecting both girls on stage immediately. The winner of the last round went first, and you were impressed by the way they could even move their body. Hell, you didn’t even know half of that was possible. But then, Bada was up.

“Hey, what’s up?” Lusher said, coming out from wherever her and Tatter went. However, she took one good look at your flabbergasted face and looked at the stage. Then, she just nodded and sat beside you, observing Bada tear up the stage.

And tear it up she did. That woman was a force to be reckoned with, able to be smooth and rough, fast or slow – even go from intimidating and hard hitting to sensual and flirty. The way she moved her hips was so exquisite, full of vigor and flavor and you couldn’t help a tiny little gasp coming out of you; the way she had such a control over her body and how her popping looked so powerful and like it could break the floor. So easy flowing, so confident… No wonder there was such a craze for this woman. It even explained Lusher’s pride on having a dance crew with her, like she was the cool mentor figure you want on your side for battles.

The crowd went wild, the other dancer even had to laugh at the ingenuity of some of Bada’s moves, so this round was unmistakably Bada’s win in the bag. Just in time, too, seeing as the next performer had arrived and was ready to take the stage themselves. Bada and her impromptu co-host both came off the stage and your eyes couldn’t stop following Bada – who was quickly swarmed by people congratulating her, greeting her, and you could even notice some girls come up to her to… well, you didn’t know. All you knew is that even from afar, you could tell some of them wanted to stick around Bada for the rest of the night, and you thought for a second that Bada would ditch you to stick around people who seemed to be more confident and cooler. Yet, Bada excused herself politely and moosey’d on over to where you and the girls were sitting.

Wait, you and the girls?

You woke up from your little trance and looked at Lusher and Tatter who were gossiping and giggling like you weren’t there. It wasn’t until the brunette noticed you that she smacked the blonde on the leg and both exaggeratedly pretended to look innocently at you. 

“What are you guys doing?” you asked, leaning and trying to tune out the music and the talking coming from the stage.

“Oh nothing,” Tatter began, fixing her hair.

“Just talking about how you look like you’ve never seen people dance,” Lusher said boldly, earning a gasp from Tatter who smacked her in return. “What? It’s the truth.”

“S-shut up–. I was just watching Bada dance!” You replied defensively, as if hoping they hadn’t watched you gobsmacked for the entire battle.

In response, both Lusher and Tatter opted to imitate how you looked – and at the sheer timing of them doing it perfectly in sync, bursted out laughing together, complete with claps and smacking each other.

You just had to sit there and take it, even if it was making you blush with embarrassment. Internally you panicked a little, seeing Bada bid farewell to the people who were walking with her and walking up towards you. She looked at you and in that moment it felt like everything was in slow motion. And that made you blush harder. 

“Hey girls,” Bada said, looking at Lusher and Tatter still recovering from their laughing fit. “C’mon, my dancing wasn’t that bad,” she jumped in, jokingly.

“No, no, no, it’s not that,” Lusher and Tatter said in unison, shaking their heads and hands.

Bada looked at you, pointing at the two dopeys with her head. “What are they laughing about then?”

“At me, watching you,” you said honestly, not daring to look at her.

Bada didn’t question that, as if she already knew what had happened. You didn’t notice or know, but she was staring at you, eyes squinting a little bit and discerning that faint pink on your cheeks. Either way, she sat nearest to you. “I’m sorry, duty called.”

You bravely looked at her and shook your head. “I-It’s okay. I a-actually wanted to see you dance.”

At that, Bada looked like she wanted to ask something, but opted out of it. Maybe it was to reiterate the question of whether or not you were scared of her. Instead, the question that came out was.

“How was it then? Did you like it?”

Are you scared of me?

“It was really cool,” you said.

And yes you were scared of how much this woman rocked your world.

Oh, she was rocking your world and you could feel your knees about to give in at any moment. But if your knees gave out now, you would only fall against Bada’s moving body. It was inevitable that at one point the girls would get up and go dance, but you didn’t expect them to not only drag you, but to drag Bada along to dance with you.

“Guys, I don’t know how to dance–.”

But Lusher didn’t seem to care, and Bada seemed to care even less.

You, fish out of water that can barely dance, paired with the smoke bomb that was Bada. A cruel joke, you felt, but Bada didn’t seem to have troubles with leading you and teaching you. With the patience of a saint, Bada leads you into what should really be a sensual dance together. Yet, it was filled with shy smiles from you and encouraging smiles from her. When your confidence in it grew, you moved with intent and Bada noticed. 

At this, she directly spoke to your ear. “See, you have it in you,” it was soft encouragement, a hand carefully placed on your tummy as she got into it as well. You could understand then why the girls enjoyed doing this, just drifting to the music was fun, being this close to someone attractive made you feel so much more confident and excited. With the way Bada looked at you here and there, you found yourself intoxicated by her presence like many of the other girls who were crushing madly on her. Ah, you could understand them, you could understand the desperate need to make a move.

But you couldn’t. Not when you felt something interesting when grinding against Bada, your hands instinctively landing on Bada’s thighs upon feeling it. A surprise, for sure, but a very… fascinating one.

You almost second guessed whether or not you felt it and wanted to check again, but when Bada slowed down to a halt it became clear. Clarified further by that groan to your ear coming from Bada. “Fuck,” like she didn’t expect that herself.

But before any of you both could do anything, the music came to an end. The person holding the microphone babbled away while Lusher approached you and Bada, taking advantage of the moment to talk to you both.

“Yo, we should get going. It’s getting a bit too late.”

You were a little flabbergasted, it showed a little on your face when you looked back at Bada. But Bada looked at you with that same composed look, yet she softly apologized. 

“Sorry about that,” and it was just for you to hear. But loudly and firmly, she responded to Lusher. “Let me drive you home.”

The sea of meaningless words kept clashing into each other and creating nonsense as you kept reading. God, studying was no use right now. In your mind there was only something running around endlessly and that was Bada. 

You couldn’t stop thinking of the ride back home from yesterday. Bada cooly driving everyone, unfazed by what had just happened between the two of you. You were on the passenger seat, looking at her discreetly and noting – at least in the beginning –  that subtle, tell-tale bulge. A bulge that soon enough dissipated, as if Bada put it under control. It fascinated you, seeing as you hadn’t noticed before that moment, but above all what fascinated you was how casual she was about it. And how she seemed to notice you staring every now and then. Responsibly, of course, she didn’t keep her eyes off the road when the car was moving even for an inch, but when slowing down to a stop to drop off Tatter, Bada looked at you and noticed you already were staring. Against your better judgment, you didn’t look away, instead you locked gazes with her while Tatter gathered her things to hop off. And in that brief moment you both looked at each other, she… smirked. 

Like she knew why you were staring at her for starters, like she was going to talk to you about it at one point. Just not that night.

But you couldn’t feel the same certainty and confidence you felt then. Not after waking up the next morning and realizing you were probably way out of her league, the bits of liquid confidence that tasted like hellish alcohol dissipating from your system.

Now, studying was impossible and your mind was restless. 

Lusher was also sprawled across her bed, the book just covering her face. She was exhausted by the night before and struggling to study for different reasons. But she was more confused as to why YOU were struggling. You had been a studious kind of reader, a better student than her in the short amount of time you were her roomie. So, she grabbed the book, closed it and found enjoyment somewhere else.

Poking your brain for a second, figuring you out.

“Can’t study either, huh?” She asked first, her voice breaking the heavy silence. 

“Nope,” you replied, forehead to textbook now. “Not at all.”

“Last night wasn’t THAT wild though,” Lusher said. “I thought you avoided drinking that much for the same reason.”

You sighed and opted to lay face up, closing the book. “It’s not the drinking.”

Lusher looked confused. “Then, what is it?”

You really had no idea how to even begin explaining it, or if you should even tell your roommate that the leader of her dance crew was the one thing consistently on your mind. “I… I don’t know.”

Lusher squinted, her brain starting to function. “I thought you had fun, you look like you’re hungover more than anything.”

“No, believe me. I had a lot of fun, it was great! But…”

Is it too corny to say you were hungover from the rapid growth of a crush? A crush who you danced with and had in your space all night? Definitely felt like you were yearning for her to start with, like you needed to be near her to survive. Ugh! Stupid feeling, you hated it and its very silly side effects. You truly couldn’t word this to Lusher in a way that was logical or anything, so you gave yourself the moment of silence to try to come up with something.

That silence was more than enough for Lusher to click things together. She may not be good for studying, but gossip is her Ph.D and life. It dawned on her and while she was still piecing things together, she gasped out. “Oh my god,” she excitedly slid to the edge of her bed. “It’s Bada, isn’t it?”

Your eyes shut open wide and looked at her. “N-no?”

“Oh you’re lying,” Lusher pointed at you, breaking out into laughter.

You were blushing all over again, grabbing your pillow and covering it – almost as if to smother yourself to get away from embarrassment. 

“Aw, c’mon, I don’t blame you!” Lusher insisted, skipping over to the edge of your bed. “Don’t be embarrassed, Bada is quite the looker.”

You groaned into the pillow and Lusher grabbed it away from you, giggling. “She’s… so pretty.”

“Yeah,” Lusher nodded. “She’s also really hot, isn’t she?”

“Lusher, she’s your leader.” “So? I can find my friends hot,” Lusher shrugged. “Like Tatter is hot. And Bada IS hot, you can’t deny it.”

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t help but to smile at that. “Yes.”

“Aha!” Lusher snapped her fingers. “Then wait,” she calmed down a bit. “Why were you so dejected just now? Aren’t you supposed to be like… giddy about it?”

You shook your head. “I am, but… Y’know. I talked to her a lot and she was so fascinating to me, like there’s a lot to learn about her. And we even danced and all but… Bada is out of my league.”

Lusher wanted to slap you and you could tell. “She spent the entire night with you, you idiot.”

“Which her heartbreaker type can do,” you reasoned, raising a finger matter of factly. 

Lusher was about to retort, but thought it through for a second. “She used to, not so much anymore.”

“See?”

“Okay but,” Lusher insisted, trying to defend her leader now. “She doesn’t do that and I think she respects that we’re roommates to even try that, okay?”

You couldn’t give a rebuttal to that.

Lusher adjusted in her seat. “Besides, when she was done dancing with you she looked like she needed some fresh air. Like you rocke–.” Lusher stopped abruptly and gasped, hitting your arm playfully. “Tatter was right!”

You were trying to get away from her smacks. “Wh-what, stop that!”

“Oh my god,” Lusher giggled, trying to lower her voice a bit. “Tatter mentioned that when she saw Bada take us to her car, she saw Bada a little flustered, trying to hide her–.” Lusher looked around, then whispered away. “Her hard on.”

You gulped, looking at the ceiling and not daring to keep eye contact with your roommate. 

“Listen, Bada doesn’t get hard-ons like that ever,” Lusher insisted, hitting the mattress repeatedly. “Ne-ver. I’ve seen her dance with so many people! She has been grinded on plenty of times, and believe me even I danced with her once. I have never seen her have a hard-on. Which, I will admit, did wound my ego just a bit,” dramatic pause for Lusher to place her hand on her chest. “But Bada has never gotten hard.”

You rubbed your arm. “M-maybe Tatter misunderstood–.”

“That girl has 20/20 vision and can see ants running on the ground, I doubt she would not notice,” Lusher said way too excited. “This is good gossip, oh my god.”

You covered your face. “Stoooop, it still doesn’t mean anything.”

“Yes, it does. It means you affected her a little, enough to catch her off guard. Bada doesn’t just get flustered like that, not in all the while I’ve known her,” Lusher insisted, as hopeful as you should be. “I don’t care if she’s out of your league or whatever, if you like her and she likes you back, give it a try. You already got her once, right?”

Lusher does have a point. What gives if Bada is out of your league? Why not just try it and see where it goes? Why not just chase after the woman who already seems to pay particular attention to you?

Why not?

[itsa-me-lily]

Soooooo....This was not how I originally planned on how y'all shared a bed for the first time...buuuuuuuuuuuuuut this is what you got. I tried some stuff, I think they worked but not 100% sure. Honestly I could way to post this in the morning and give it another look over, but I really don't want to wait that long, and I'm worried I'll over think it.

As always here's the list for the rest of Military Program Spouse

Content warning; Death, violence, nightmare, kind of very vague description of panicking? Let me know if I miss anything

The first time the two of you actually share a bed, only one of you is sleeping. It's been nearly six months since you both signed your marriage license. And even though the time spent together under the same roof can probably only add up to a couple months, it hasn't been terrible.

Sure there's the period of growing pains, learning to co-exist with another human being when you're so used to being alone. Petty arguments and even pettier revenges. Hell you even had to go and explain your sex life, or lack there of, to the entirety of Simon's team. But even with the ups and downs, it hasn't not been worth it.

The night you share a bed, Simon has been back from a mission for a week now. It wasn't good. Really none of them are actually good, just varying degrees of what can be shoved down and ignored. Hostages were involved, a fire fight broke out. Their rescue mission became a recovery one.

Death wasn't something new to any of them. It clung to their skin. Ghost practically exuded it. He was the omen of the end to everyone who stood against him. At times he was judge, jury, and especially executioner. Ghost was a walking death. But there was something that knocked him off kilter, once the shooting had stopped and the team started the futile task of checking for survivors.

The woman looked nothing like you, really there wasn't anything similar and yet it was her eyes. Once Ghost caught sight of her eyes Simon felt something rattle in his chest. For some reason her eyes reminded Simon of yours. Only hers were dull now, lacking any spark that showed a hint of life. Simon stared for a second too long before crouching down to gently close her eyes. Ghost stood back up to continue checking. He didn't look at any other eyes.

When he came back, Simon wouldn't really look at you. His eyes would flicker to your face for a millisecond at a time, to show he was listening as much as he could, but for the most part it felt like he was trying to burn a hole into your left ear.

You just figure that he's being...well, Simon. Sometimes he went from not making a lot of eye contact to staring into the depth of your soul to make you confess every sin you even thought of committing. Just something that made him...him.

He was grateful you didn't push. He couldn't explain why he dreaded the idea of looking into your eyes. Well he could guess a theory or two, but that would mean admitting that maybe, maybe you meant a sliver of something. It all came to a head though with the nightmare.

Ghost was back in the firefight, ears ringing from the number of shots being fired and screaming being torn from people's throat. It felt like it would be unending, a vortex of sound and violence that would swallow him whole. Until it didn't. Until it suddenly became so quiet he could hear his heart and breathing.

Only...it wasn't his breathing.

His breaths weren't uneven struggles that had that wet struggling sound.

Ghost wasn't in control of his feet as he started moving forward, or when he stopped.

Ghost wasn't in control of his neck as he started to look down at what was making that struggling wet sound.

Ghost couldn't make himself stop from looking at you laying on the ground, chest making sad futile efforts to keep pulling in breath to keep you alive. Until it didn't

Ghost couldn't avert his eyes when they met yours; cold, empty, and dead.

Simon woke up choking on a gasp, fingers clutching the handmade blankets as if each stitch could shield him from the horrors his mind made him live through. He couldn't see the ceiling for minutes at least, unable to get his bearing as to where he was.

Slowly he could though. He came back to himself and to the four walls around him. To the dresser that housed your clothes and the weird little knick knacks you insisted on collecting. He felt the weight of the blankets on top of him and how they pushed him into the bed.

He came back to himself, in his bedroom, alone.

He had to remind himself that you were real, that he had just been talked at by you this afternoon. You were just in the living room. Too far away.

He probably shouldn't have done it, should have just flicked a light on, or tried to go back to sleep, but Simon had the clawing need to see you. So he got up quietly, used his stealth to make it the living room where the weak barely there rays of early morning were starting to lighten the room.

His mind couldn't hold onto any thought besides just looking at you. Sprawled out on the right side of the pull out, face half buried as you laid on your front, leg hiked up as if you were attempting a very poor man's army crawl. There was just enough space for him to sit along the head of the bed with you, and the fact he did so without waking you up was impressive. Or you were just that deep of a sleeper.

You didn't even seem to notice how intensely Simon stared at you. It was as if he was trying to commit to memory the way your eye lashes rested against your cheek, or how the way you were resting your head caused your lips to just barely pout. It should have been obvious that seeing you drool in your sleep would force him to cheer up, just a little bit. He counted the number of times your back moved with your breathing, until the number was high enough that it started to push away the idea that it would stop.

Simon spent hours just watching you. Letting the sounds of your gentle snoring and mumblings wash over him. For a second he debated seeing if he could get you to argue with him in your sleep...though...maybe he'd try that a different night.

And when the actual morning came to greet you both, Simon took extra care to watch as your eyes fluttered open. He took in the sleepy way you took in the world, eyes hazy but warm and alive.

[fratttymatty]

Bro, It's Haunted

(All characters are 18+)

It was the perfect night for a paranormal investigation. The kind of night when a full moon hung low in the sky, casting eerie shadows on dilapidated buildings, and the air was thick with the smell of old dust and mystery. A group of nine friends—paranormal investigators and self-proclaimed nerds—had been itching for their latest adventure. They weren’t just any nerdy crew; they were a tight-knit group of gay, liberal, and openly eccentric thirty-year-olds. They had faced haunted dolls, cursed objects, and even poltergeists. But tonight’s location was a bit… different.

The Alpha Sigma Pi frat house, once the pride of their small college town, had been abandoned for years. No one had lived there in at least a decade, and rumors about the place circulated like wildfire. No one dared go near it anymore—except for the team, of course.

The nine of them gathered in the parking lot, adjusting their equipment and checking the cameras on their phones. There was Nate, the confident team leader with a deep love for horror movies and a perpetual dark hoodie; Jesse, the sarcastic and dry-witted one, constantly cracking jokes but deeply sentimental when it counted; Finn, the tech genius who could hack anything and had a fascination with all things supernatural; Liam, the sensitive one, who was always the first to believe in things like ghosts and spirits; Ollie, the curious but quiet skeptic who had a soft spot for astrology; and then there was the rest of the crew—Emory, Miles, Theo, and Xavier—each one an essential part of the quirky, nerdy ensemble.

They stood in front of the house, which loomed like a forgotten monument to a time long past. The windows were boarded up, the paint peeling, and a thick fog curled around the crumbling structure.

“Alright, so the legends say this place is haunted by the spirits of the worst kind of frat boys—those who never grew up and are stuck in the 'glory days' of their youth,” Finn said, adjusting the strap on his backpack, filled with ghost-hunting equipment.

“Yikes,” Liam muttered. “Not looking forward to meeting that kind of energy.”

"Eh, at least we won’t have to deal with them 'till we're dead and rotting," Ollie quipped, eyes scanning the dark silhouette of the house.

The team filed into the front door, which creaked open easily, as if welcoming them in. The inside of the house was just as abandoned as it looked on the outside—empty beer cans, broken furniture, and posters of former college athletes lined the walls. It smelled like stale alcohol and faded memories.

“This place is definitely haunted,” Jesse muttered under his breath, looking around. "Either that, or these are the vibes of my worst nightmare."

“Let’s get to work,” Nate said, trying to focus the team. “We’ll split up. Emory, you and I will check the basement. Theo, Jesse, check the upper floors. Finn, Liam, and Xavier, you’re with me on the ground level. Ollie, you’re on monitoring. Keep an eye on the cameras.”

Everyone nodded in agreement, and the investigation began. At first, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. They set up their cameras, EVP recorders, and motion sensors. Every now and then, a strange creak echoed through the house, but that was hardly enough to draw anyone’s attention—until it started happening.

The first person to notice was Theo. He stood frozen in the hallway, staring at an old photograph hanging crookedly on the wall.

“Uh, guys,” he said slowly, “this picture looks weird.”

The photograph was of a group of young men, all smiling proudly in front of the house. But as Theo looked closer, the faces seemed to shift, almost imperceptibly, until the men no longer looked like their college-aged selves.

"Did… did those guys just move?" Theo whispered, voice quivering slightly.

Finn rushed over, but by the time he reached the wall, the image was still and normal. Nothing had changed.

“Bro, you good?” Jesse asked, clearly trying to joke, but something in his tone felt off. “Just a picture. Maybe you’re seeing things.”

It wasn’t until the lights flickered that the first real sign something was wrong occurred. The house itself seemed to breathe, the walls exhaling in a slow, deliberate shudder.

Suddenly, a wave of nausea hit them all at once.

“I feel dizzy…” Liam said, his hand reaching to steady himself against a doorframe.

“I’m good,” Jesse muttered, “but I swear I’m too good.” He let out a low laugh, as though something was tickling his brain, but not quite reaching the punchline.

Then things got… stranger.

One by one, the group started to change. At first, it was subtle—nothing more than a shift in posture, or the way their voices sounded. But soon, their bodies began to morph, skin tightening, muscle mass increasing, faces becoming more angular and chiseled. Their clothes felt tighter, their jeans more fitted—though most of them couldn’t quite put their finger on why.

"Hey, bro, I feel kinda… strong all of a sudden," Miles said, flexing his bicep absentmindedly. “Like, I wanna, I dunno, lift something heavy. Bro things.”

“Bro?” Jesse blinked, his voice coming out in a deeper tone. His hand shot out to slap Miles on the back, but instead of the usual playful gesture, it was almost an aggressive, over-the-top bro hug. “Yeah, man! Let’s get that pump going.”

“I… I don’t know what’s going on…” Theo’s voice trailed off. He ran a hand through his hair—hair that was suddenly much thicker and styled differently. He felt the front of his shirt and blinked as if waking up from a strange dream. “What the hell? Why am I—?”

“It’s the house,” Nate said slowly, his own voice shifting into a more gravelly, assured tone. He glanced around at his friends, realizing, with growing panic, that they weren’t the same people they’d been an hour ago. “We’ve been taken.”

Finn turned around in disbelief, his fingers instinctively adjusting the collar of his polo. “Nah, man. I feel good. Like, really good. Like, I’m the king of this house or something.”

The transformations continued—tighter jeans, broader shoulders, more swagger in their steps. Their personalities were shifting too, as if something in the house was rewriting their identities. The sarcastic and clever remarks gave way to cruder jokes, and deep thoughts were replaced with loud cheers about football and frat parties.

By the time they had all fully transformed, they stood before one another—completely unrecognizable from who they’d once been. Their names had changed too, though they couldn't remember exactly how or when.

Nate was now "Chad," Jesse was “Brock,” Theo was “Kyle,” Finn became “Tyler,” Liam became “Brad,” Ollie was “Zach,” Miles was “Jake,” Emory was “Ryan,” and Xavier was “Max.” They looked at each other in confusion—before bursting into raucous laughter.

“Bro, this is sick!” Chad (formerly Nate) shouted. “I feel so… alive, you know? Like, we’re living in the moment, man!”

“I dunno about you guys, but I love being 21 again,” Brock (Jesse) chimed in, punching Kyle (Theo) on the shoulder with a laugh. “This is what life’s all about, man! Football, parties, and, like, grilling stuff, y’know?”

They all laughed again. They had no memory of their past selves—no interest in returning to who they once were. The house had changed them, and now they belonged here, in their new lives.

“Who needs ghosts?” Max (Xavier) added with a chuckle, slapping a high five with Zach (Ollie). “We’re the real menace now, bros.”

And so, the abandoned frat house stood—alive, buzzing with energy as its new inhabitants reveled in their transformation. The doors closed behind them with a final, definitive slam, and the house hummed as if content, its newest bro occupants already planning the next big party.

The Spellsisters were a tight-knit group of ten liberal, nerdy, 28-year-old paranormal investigators who prided themselves on their intellect, critical thinking, and love of all things supernatural. But when they stepped foot into the abandoned Delta Kappa Omega sorority house, they had no idea they were about to face something that would completely change them.

The team consisted of:

Cassidy – The level-headed leader, calm and collected, always keeping the group grounded.

Lana – The intuitive one, deeply attuned to spiritual energy and the vibes of any place.

Sierra – The techie, always with gadgets in hand, trying to find logical explanations for everything.

Ella – The free-spirited dreamer, often lost in mystical thoughts, fascinated by energy fields.

Bailey – The pragmatic skeptic, always on the lookout for rational explanations for the unexplained.

Tessa – The tarot card reader with a sharp wit and a skeptical edge, always questioning the unknown.

Zoey – The empathetic one, sensitive to emotional energies and trying to understand the deeper forces at play.

Emilia – The witch-in-training, passionate about crystals, herbs, and mystical rituals.

Riley – The scientist, logical to the core, though secretly intrigued by the supernatural.

Morgan – The dramatic one with an epic flair for storytelling and a surprisingly deep intuition.

They had come to investigate the Delta Kappa Omega house, a once-vibrant sorority that had long been abandoned and was rumored to be haunted by the spirits of its former sisters. Now, as the house lay in ruins, they were determined to uncover the truth.

"This place is... heavy," Cassidy said as the group stood before the house, the old, dilapidated structure looming before them. "It feels like it's holding onto something... dark."

"Yeah, dark energy," Sierra muttered, fiddling with a device meant to detect electromagnetic fields. "This place is off."

“I don’t like it,” Bailey added, scanning the area with a frown. “It’s like something’s watching us.”

“Well, we came here for answers, not to get freaked out,” Lana said, looking up at the house with determination. “Let’s do this.”

As they entered the house, the air felt charged with an unnatural energy. Dust swirled in the air like a ghostly mist, and remnants of the sorority’s past—old furniture, faded photographs, and posters of smiling young women—lined the walls, now decaying with age.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Zoey murmured as she stepped cautiously into the living room. “The vibes here are… weird.”

“Well, whatever it is, we need to figure it out,” Cassidy said firmly, taking charge. “Let’s split up, cover more ground. Stay in contact. If you sense anything… strange, let me know.”

The group split into smaller teams: Cassidy and Riley headed for the kitchen to investigate, while Zoey, Tessa, and Morgan set up their base in the living room. Lana, Sierra, and Emilia went to the attic, where the coldest, most oppressive energy seemed to gather.

It didn’t take long before something went terribly wrong.

The house began to hum, an eerie vibration that rattled the walls. A heavy, oppressive feeling filled the air, and a sudden dizziness struck all of them, as if the house itself were rearranging their minds.

“Something’s not right,” Cassidy said, gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to steady herself.

"I—I feel weird..." Bailey said, her voice trailing off. She glanced down at herself and froze, blinking rapidly. Her loose, comfortable jeans and hoodie had been replaced with a form-fitting, trendy crop top and high-waisted shorts. She was now, suddenly, perfectly toned—her stomach flat and abs defined. She ran her hands through her hair. "Wait, what the hell just happened?"

Cassidy looked at herself in the same reflection—her shirt was now tight, and her body had shifted in ways she couldn’t explain. Her once wild hair was now perfectly styled, and her makeup—subtle yet flawless—somehow appeared. “Is this… real?”

“What’s happening?” Riley asked, tugging at her jacket. It now clung to her body in a way that was completely foreign to her. Her voice, once confident and logical, now had a higher pitch, more energy, and a certain tone to it. She caught sight of her reflection in a broken mirror. Her jeans were now tight and trendy, her hair styled in soft waves. "I look… good."

Lana, standing near the window, twirled a lock of hair and glanced at herself in disbelief. Her long hair had become voluminous waves, framing her face in a way that made her appear effortlessly glamorous. Her baggy clothes were gone, replaced by tight pants and heels that somehow made sense. "Oh my god, I look amazing," she said, flashing a grin at the others.

"Okay, I’m freaking out," Sierra said, now feeling herself. Her hoodie was gone, replaced with a fitted jacket that hugged her body, accentuating her curves. Her hair was styled with perfect volume, and her usual intellectual focus had been replaced by something a little... lighter. “I look, like, totally different. And I kind of love it."

“I don’t know about you guys,” Zoey added, glancing down at her now-bodycon dress, “but, like, I’m feeling myself right now. Like, I could totally get used to this."

“What is going on with us?” Tessa asked, her voice oddly high-pitched and bubbly now. She fidgeted with her hair, which had grown shinier, thicker. "Like, I’m literally glowing right now. What happened to us?”

"I—I don’t even care," Bailey said with a shrug, her voice now more carefree than before. "I’m, like, so over the ghost stuff. I feel hot."

Cassidy, the former leader, stood still, her hands on her hips. Her old, rational thoughts slipped away, and a strange new energy surged inside her. “Honestly? I’m kind of digging this whole vibe. I feel like we should just go out and party. We can figure out the ghosts later.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Tessa laughed, flipping her hair dramatically. “Why deal with spooky stuff when we could be living our best life? I’m, like, ready for a night out.”

“I need, like, so many more outfits,” Zoey giggled, now twirling in the middle of the room. “I’m obsessed with how cute I look!”

Lana spun to face the group, her attitude completely transformed. “Let’s hit up a frat party. I need some attention, and I’m ready for it.”

“I’m like, so ready for this,” Sierra added with a wide, confident grin, brushing her hands through her hair. “We’re totally in charge now.”

Each of the Spellsisters had undergone a full transformation—not just physically, but mentally, as well. Gone were the curious, thoughtful, and empowered women who had walked into the house. In their place stood something else entirely: young, fashionable, superficial versions of themselves, obsessed with parties, boys, and their looks. They were no longer concerned with the supernatural or solving any paranormal mysteries.

Their names had changed along with everything else:

Cassidy became Carmen – the bubbly, fashion-obsessed, carefree girl who only cared about herself and looking perfect.

Bailey became Brianna – the ditzy, energetic girl who was all about fun, partying, and catching attention.

Zoey became Zara – a sparkling, happy-go-lucky girl obsessed with shopping, boys, and being the life of the party.

Tessa became Tiffany – the fun-loving, ditzy girl who lived for drama and self-love.

Lana became Kylie – the confident, flirtatious sorority girl who was always the center of attention.

Sierra became Sienna – the outgoing, trendy girl who always knew what was in style.

Ella became Ellie – the ditzy girl who cared only about getting Instagram selfies and looking cute.

Emilia became Mia – the fashionable, self-centered girl who only thought about herself and her future popularity.

Riley became Riley (yes, Riley kept her name, but now her personality was transformed into that of a carefree, boy-crazy party girl).

Morgan became Madison – the dramatic, always-the-center-of-attention girl who thrived on admiration.

The house had claimed them, and they no longer cared about ghosts, spirits, or mysteries. They were new people, and they were loving their new lives of shopping, partying, and social media fame.

“Ugh, I need a cocktail,” Kylie said, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Let’s go hit up a party or something. Who even cares about ghosts anymore?”

And just like that, the Spellsisters were gone. In their place, new, ditzy, party-obsessed sorority girls had emerged. They were more than happy to leave the house’s haunted mysteries behind and step into their new lives.

After a strange, eerie night spent in the haunted Delta Kappa Omega house, the Spellsisters had transformed into something completely different. Gone were the intellectual, nerdy women who had entered the house. In their place were confident, party-obsessed, fashionable girls—completely unconcerned with the ghosts or the mysteries they came to uncover.

At the same time, across town, the former paranormal investigator guys—the Bro Hunters—had undergone a similar transformation in the Delta Kappa Omega’s brother house, Alpha Sigma Pi. Just as the Spellsisters had been turned into bubbly sorority girls, the guys had turned into frat boys—cocky, straight, and eager to hit the nearest party scene.

Cassidy, now Carmen, stood outside the Delta Kappa Omega house, looking up at the massive structure, her perfectly styled hair fluttering in the breeze. She twirled her keys in her hand, glancing down at her new, super-cute outfit—a tight crop top and high-waisted shorts that accentuated her toned body.

“God, I look so good right now,” she muttered to herself, checking her reflection in the window. “I’m literally going to make all the boys fall for me.”

“Carmen! You look like a snack,” Zoey—now Zara—called from across the street. She was leaning against a car, her eyes covered by oversized sunglasses despite the fact that it was nearing dusk. “Like, I swear, you’re hotter than anyone on Instagram.”

“Oh, stop,” Carmen giggled, flipping her hair. “But, like, you’re right.”

“You know what we need to do tonight?” Zara said, a mischievous grin crossing her face. “We need to party, girl. And I know just the place.”

Across the street, a group of frat boys were walking out of Alpha Sigma Pi’s mansion, all loud, cocky, and looking for their next big adventure. Among them were Jax, Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—each of them now fully immersed in their frat boy personas, with names to match their new identities.

“Oh, hell yeah, tonight’s gonna be lit,” Jax—formerly Jake—said, his grin wide and confident as he checked out his reflection in the nearby window. His frat brothers—Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock—flanked him, all dressed in the tightest, most stylish clothes that fit the frat look perfectly.

“We’re gonna own this town,” Zane said, flexing his muscles and striking a pose. “The best party in town? It’s gonna be at our place.”

Brock slapped Zane on the back. “Dude, I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get some attention tonight. Some real attention.”

“Well, we’re gonna get more than attention,” Max added, cracking his knuckles. “I’m thinking we’ll get ourselves some new girlfriends tonight.”

Just as the frat boys approached their cars, they saw a group of girls walking down the street toward them—Carmen, Zara, and the rest of the new “Spellsisters,” all of them laughing and chatting, their heels clicking against the pavement.

Brock’s eyes immediately locked onto Carmen. “Damn,” he muttered under his breath. “She’s fire.”

“Yo, check it out,” Zane said, pointing at Zara. “She looks like she’s ready for some fun.”

“Hell yeah,” Max said with a grin. “Looks like we’re not the only ones looking to have a good time tonight.”

“Yo, ladies!” Jax called out, flashing a confident smile. “You girls lookin’ to party or what?”

Carmen turned around at the sound of Jax’s voice, and her eyes immediately scanned the group of guys. She felt an overwhelming rush of energy, her pulse quickening. This was it—this was exactly the kind of attention she craved. “Uh, yeah, we’re looking for a good time,” she said, flipping her hair back with an exaggerated flourish. “What’s your deal?”

“Oh, we’re definitely looking for some fun,” Jax replied, stepping closer. His new, cocky swagger was undeniable, and Carmen could feel the electricity between them. “I’m Jax, and this is Max, Zane, Derrick, and Brock. We were just about to hit up a party at the frat house. You down?”

“We’re totally down,” Zara chimed in, flashing a sweet smile that had a hint of mischief. “I’m Zara, and this is Carmen, Ella, Tessa, and Sienna.” She winked at Jax. “We know how to party, trust me.”

“Well, that’s what I like to hear,” Jax grinned, his eyes scanning her body. “You sure you can handle us?”

“I can handle anything,” Zara replied, crossing her arms confidently. “And you guys look like you could use some serious attention.”

Brock stepped forward, grinning. “I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to make this night unforgettable. Let’s make sure you get the full frat boy experience.”

The Spellsisters and the frat boys laughed together, the instant chemistry between them undeniable. With every word exchanged, the former nerds and introverts grew more confident, their carefree personalities fully taking over.

As the night went on, they moved into the frat house, music blasting and the sound of laughter and chatter filling the air. Carmen was inseparable from Jax, Zara kept flirting with Max, and Sienna couldn’t seem to get enough of Brock. Tessa and Derrick were in the corner, gossiping and laughing about their latest party experiences, while Ella and Zane were dancing together, their chemistry undeniable.

“I’ve never had more fun in my life,” Carmen whispered to Jax as they sipped drinks and stood near the dance floor. “Like, why would I ever go back to my old life?”

“You don’t need to,” Jax replied, his arm casually draped around her waist. “We’ve got everything we need right here. Who needs the paranormal when we can have real fun?”

“Exactly,” Carmen said, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “Who needs the ghosts?”

And in that moment, it became clear—both the Spellsisters and the frat boys had left behind their old, nerdy selves. They were no longer investigators or skeptics; they were now young, fun, and living for the moment. The ghosts that once haunted the Delta Kappa Omega house? Well, they were just part of the past. What mattered now was the party, the attention, and the fun of their new, carefree lives.

And, of course, there was a whole lot of dating going on—because in this new world, the only thing they cared about was each other, the fun they were having, and their new, exciting, drama-filled lives.

(From row 4, 2, 1 left to right, Brock, Zach, Ryan, Tyler, Max, Jake, Kyle, Chad, Brad.)

(From row 4, 3, 2, 1 left to right, Sienna, Zara, Tiffany, Brianna, Ellie, Kylie, Riley, Madison, Carmen, Mia.)

[someverygaymoth]

NIGHTMARE WITH OSDD

I love your headcanon and I'm going to take it and it into a 5-star meal🙏

May I have more please🙏😔 /nf

I love NM with OSDD!!! Yay!!! Free ramble pass!!!!

There are so many good options for this. I'm gonna go with fuzzy system of 5, where Nightmare(the corruption) is their host, Night(little guy before the apple whoopsidoodle), Moon(the hurt, scared, grown up version of Night), Dream(little guy before the apple whoopsie doodle), and Sun(a grown up Dream. The kind of brother he wanted and needed, but never quite got.) Lots of fuzzy cofronting, lots of gray amnesia and emotional amnesia with occasional blackouts.

Silly BSP hyjinks ideas:

Nightmare worrying, trying to find one of his boys because he doesn't remember that he sent them out on a mission that morning. (Killer finds him and reminds him that Dust and Horror are out on a mission, and not to worry about them)

Horror finding out they're plural and learning that alters have different tastes??? He would be so excited to figure out everyone's favorite food!!!

Cross learns NM is plural and immediately does all the research possible so he knows he isn't accidentally being offensive, and also so he can be more helpful. (He has to be the helpfulest all the time! That's what he's good for!)(he is so mentally ill)

Killer does the research in secret and then purposefully says ignorant shit so Cross gets scandalized and NM gets to watch them argue and have a little snack on Crossy's indignance and terror. NM knows he's being annoying on purpose because he starts doing really considerate shit without being outward about it. (Bringing back a bunch of sticky notes in different shapes and colors from his missions, casually asking him how to be more helpful, wrapping him in a blanket and laying on him when he's dissociating into high hell so he's nice and grounded, or just cuddling with him while he's having a long, slow switch. Bringing him water and headache medicine once it's leveled out, catching up whoever is in front now, making sure they know they're safe...)

Dust is obscenely good at telling who's fronting. He noticed way before Nightmare told any of them. "[Shrug] Shit didn't add up," is all he says about that. Nightmare has no idea what that means, but at least Dust can tell him he's doing the hand wringing thing that Night always does when he's fronting, so he can tell who's cofronting and giving him a massive migrane. He's just very watchful.

Evil ideas:

Moon is so frightened and overwhelmingly broken, for a long time. Nightmare can tell he's near front when he starts to feel tearful and hurt seemingly without reason.

Sun lashing out at one of the boys because he feels like they're being threatened (the boys are trying to be nice to him)

Sun feels helpless in the body because he has near no control over their tentacles. He can't protect them and that's very scary for him. He doesn't like feeling out of control.

Night had a phase where he would write in books, Nightmare hated this.

Sun has a habit of trying to convince the boys to leave them because he doesn't want anyone close to them. He feels like he has something to make up for, with all that Moon went through. He feels so much pressure to be better than Dream ever was to them.

More silly to cleanse the owie:

Nightmare's system is relatively functional and stable once Sun gets off his "hurt them before they hurt us!!" Horse.

Sun has a silly lil crush on Killer that he will vehemently deny if asked about.

They're silly and I love them.

[longtallglasses]

coopermyagent’s byler fanfic post

chaptered fics

The Blair Witch Project - (95,803 words) E rating - blair witch project (1999) au, horror, gore, ghosts, haunting etc.

Will hasn’t been handed that many good things in his life. Piece of shit dad, growing up gay in a small town, falling in love with his straight best friend, and oh yeah, spending a traumatic week when he was twelve lost out in the woods that he still can’t recall to this day. But the one thing he always had was his friends. The Party.

However, entering their second year of college the party have drifted apart; maybe a weekend spent making Mike’s student documentary on the Blair Witch can bring them closer again? And maybe Will can still hold onto something good.

OR as a bookmarker once said “will has an unknown past! mike is a gay mess! they go in the woods and everything comes crashing down! on the edge of your seat madness twists and turns all while being erotic? and gorey? and sweet?”

it happens each day - WIP E rating - lighthouse keeper au, horror, cannibalism, gore etc.

Fall, 1977. Dear Mr. Wheeler, We are pleased to offer you the temporary position at Egg Rock Lighthouse. Your experience and passion for the light keeper post is greatly appreciated and we look forward to meeting you and your partner at the start of October. Attached you will find detailed directions on how to find your way depending on your transportation. As you know the lighthouse is quite secluded so we advise to pack accordingly for the coming months. We've also attached a few brochures about the history of the area, you'll find some informative while others quite humorous. You'll come to grow very accustomed to seeing Amaren's phrases around the property. We hope this is the start of a smooth and mutually beneficial working relationship for you at Egg Rock Lighthouse. Most cordially, The Board at Egg Rock

If it takes all night... - WIP E rating - vampire!mike au

Mike needs to get over his feelings for Will before it kills him. Literally. After a night out with a mysterious stranger turns into a surprise vampire attack that he should've seen coming, Will comes in to save his skin with a makeshift stake to the heart. However, the real nightmare begins when Mike starts showing signs of turning into a vampire himself. But Will is willing to do anything to help him survive... anything.

fluffy one shots

We’re So Lucky - (4,192 words) T rating -

Will gets very drunk at a party.

Mike takes care of him and they talk about their first sexual experiences and their desire for each other all while trying to not hook up.

heaven (let my love open the door) - (14,161 words) G rating -

it's valentine's day 1981, the boys give each other candy, but Mike has something extra for Will.

it's valentine's day 1989, and Mike and Will want to finally get a valentine's day to themselves. they both have special things in store.

but flurry you’re my best friend - (5,558 words) G rating -

Will had been sitting close behind him, leaning back on the head board, and now Mike’s upper half was laid out on his lap and chest.

“Oh sorry, I-” Mike is pulling himself up, but Will’s hand is on his shoulder, and it’s burning again.

“No, it’s okay,” and Will pulls him back down, his legs maneuvering around him, until Mike’s back is flush with Will’s chest and Mike no longer has a single thought going through his mind.

In the midst of trying to get five stars on his animal crossing island, Mike accidentally falls into his feelings for Will, literally.

featuring Will being very supportive of Mike's island and Mike wants better gifts from his villagers

one more… please? (tell it like it is) - (4,457 words) G rating -

Mike was in for the shock of his life when Will gave him a kiss on the forehead.

What's even more shocking is how he's now scheming to get more?

It’s Cute - (996 words) G rating -

Will didn’t mean for it to happen. Honestly he had kind of forgotten. He didn’t even really think about it anymore.

But there they were in his bedroom, and Mike had plucked it out from under his comforter, “Is this my sweater?”

i can be your canvas? - (2,058 words) G rating -

Will's all out of blank canvases... but Mike's in the room so...

that hot, huh? - (1,157 words) T rating -

That hot, huh?” Mike teases, his face still smeared with blood. “Shut up,” Will groans, his head tilted back at a sharp angle. He experimentally lowers his head, only for a fresh wave of blood to pour out, sending Mike into another fit of laughter. “I hate you,” Will moans, “stop laughing,” “I- can’t-” Mike wheezes.

bittersweet goodbyes - (1,612 words) G rating -

mike and will have a dramatic goodbye ritual and lucas is so over it.

you're so cute i could eat you - (3,832 words) G rating-

Mike gets a case of serious cuteness aggression when it comes to Will... but Will doesn't really seem to mind.

Two Halloweens - October, 1979 & 1983...

angst and or horror one shots

these fatal fantasies - (10,008 words) T rating - guilty as sin? song fic, mike pov

He wanted to stop doing this, he needed to stop doing this. He just worked himself up and he couldn’t escape it. It was driving him insane, he’d wake up in the night and not be able to stop his hand. His mind supplying him with Will and all these inane scenarios where they somehow ended up in his room, or in the basement, or the school bathroom, and everything started happening so fast.

He felt like shit afterward.

Am I allowed to cry?

OR

Mike's mind has been in shambles the entire week leading up to his trip to California. He hasn't spoken to Will properly in months, his friends feel a million miles away, El seems to be doing great without him, people are dying in San Francisco, and Mike has been imagining things he wishes he wasn't. He wishes he could just throw it all away.

i just may be a daredevil (can you feel my heart?) - (10,342 words) T rating -

Will doesn’t have anything to lose anymore, and Mike can’t lose him. The two go hurtling towards an inevitable precipice where the only option might be to go tumbling down together, limbs grappling for each other, flesh melding, and heartbeats syncing in time.

OR

Will’s composure cracks and beats up their middle school bully, finishing the job Mike started. :)

you make me feel like i am free again - (6,351 words) E rating -

The summer of 1982 is nearing an end. Will and the party are trying to enjoy the last moments of heat before the new school year begins, Will especially. Lonnie just split a few months prior and Will is trying to understand the storm that never seems to stop brewing inside him. That is until one day the storm is unleashed. Waves of blood and rushes of relief are spilled. He should be frightened, he should be horrified, but all he feels is an intoxicating sense of control. Mike seems to enjoy it too.

OR

will's got crazy telekinetic powers? he unleashes wrath upon everyone? and mike cheers him on? miwi being bloody deranged boys.

lesbyler!

a plesio-what now? - (1,538 words) G rating -

michelle and willow make out in a library. that's it.

your kind of pretty - (1,699 words) G rating -

Willow wants Michelle to make her pretty like her...

flashback, warm nights - (1,104 words) G rating -

Snowball songs make Michelle and Willow want to finally do what they've always dreamt of doing.

[imbuedebauchery]

While I love to see everyone so excited about Isha,

especially where it concerns the potential for Jinx's healing, I'm shocked to see a lack of concern for the child and what she means to the story as a whole.

Arcane has always been about cycles of violence, about how people become doomed by violence to uphold systems of violence. It has always shown us this through children. Arcane is fundamentally built on the trauma of children and how that trauma becomes an inescapable vortex.

Vi would not be Vi if she was not extremely young when her parents died. She would not base her entire sense of self and worth around protecting others - she would not consider herself fundamentally wrong and reprehensible for failing to protect her charge, Powder - if not for the way this identity was cemented into her youth. The Enforcers took everything from her. The whole point of her story is how she negotiates (terribly) with all these moving parts - pieces that were presented to her through the vulnerable and fractured lens of being a literal child.

Same with Jinx. Let's not forget what her trauma looked like. Where Vi was forced to be an adult right from the beginning of her life, Jinx never got to grow up. She was forever trapped by her nightmares and hallucinations, unable to process her emotions like an adult. We know how this ended. (Terribly.)

The sister cities are at war. The sisters are at war. They were subjected to ruthless violence and isolating practices throughout their youth. One of the fundamental scenes from S1, E1 is the baroque-invoking montage of Vi, Mylo and Claggor fighting the other kids while Powder sat and watched, horrified. This could very well have been one of the worst, ugliest displays of close-up violence Powder was subjected to in her youth.

Why is it okay that this happens to Isha?

Maybe "okay" is the wrong word. I'm not accusing people of condoning or celebrating any kind of violence involving children, not by any means.

My question is: why are we cheering so loud for Jinx to be reverse-adopted by this child when their first encounter is after a lethal gunfight? Jinx shows her a ruthless display of unthinking, uncaring violence. She has become the undercity embodied with all her chaos and destructive tendencies. Isha was an evader - she ran from the danger. She was a survivor, not a killer. But the moment she is shown someone who cares about her in the same motion that she shows her how the undercity really works, she associated that care with that violence.

Did Isha know what it meant to put herself in Vi's way? Yes or no both bring their own problems. Yes, she understands death and what it means to kill people, and would participate in that act - would either be killed by Vi, or pull the trigger on her - to keep her new source of care safe. No, she has no idea what she's doing, and is blindly acting on love and attachment alone.

This was the question that would have followed Silco and Powder all throughout Powder's upbringing.

Yes, Jinx will be given opportunities to see herself, to see Powder in Isha, and to try and make things better for Isha and thereby address her own childhood trauma. But it's already off to a horrific start. Jinx is ultimately powerless to change how the undercity works (we'll see if she unites it! But likely won't change it), and cannot afford to show anything other than express and expert violence to those she loves. There was another post that talked about how the three girls, Isha, Jinx, and Sevika, communicate in body language and grunts and don't need words to communicate anything - yes. because their communication is based in beating the shit out of people. This makes them good fighters, not good at fixing issues or approaching trauma. They will simply continue to try and solve their problems and become a family in the only way they are familiar with: through killing others.

Another child is simply being roped into the way of things. Another child is being put at risk. Another child will grow up and show other children that violence is what keeps the world chugging along.

Whether or not Isha dies, something tragic will befall her. Something that will provide her with an irreversible fork in the road. She will either die, and Jinx will see that this is what her system, her city, does to people. That this is what she is permanently cursed to do to people. Or Isha lives, and faces something traumatic. Jinx realizes that this is what happens to children in the undercity, and is hopeless to affect any kind of change.

Or... Isha lives. She suffers the moment of extreme horror that will change her forever, and has no coping mechanisms, but saw enough lost love in Jinx that she is able to piece together a way to continue in this world without resorting to violence. She finds a way to address that trauma without unleashing it back on the world.

I'd like to think, knowing how Fortiche will be more than aware of the themes of childhood in this series, that Isha will live. Introducing a child this late in the game - a universal symbol of hope for the future in any given fiction - presents them with the opportunity to express how things can change. Maybe our wretched adult freaks are doomed, but maybe... maybe there's a chance. Maybe not everything is absolutely hopeless.

If they kill her? There is no shred of hope in the rest of this series. I'm sure of it. Literally nothing good will come out of any other plotline in S2 if Isha dies. She is the canary, and oh boy, we're going down deep into the mine with S2.

Why must a child suffer for Jinx to learn? I think this is the ultimate question that comes out of seeing the excitement for the new trio family. Why do we have to rope a literal child into a murder duet so that Jinx might be able to see her own traumas in a different lens?

There's something about the doom of children to systemic violence that just makes me weepy every time. Rewatching S1 E1 had me in tears almost every minute. Knowing that these kids, these children, were participating in practices that would doom them. Knowing that the adults we see at the end of S1 and where we are in S2 are direct and inevitable products of their youth. Kids that deserved love and safety, and were instead handed war and weapons. And we're watching it again in real time! And cheering about it????

I had to ramble about this because I just haven't seen anything on it - and maybe I'm wrong, maybe it just hasn't crossed my feed, maybe everyone is acutely aware of this as a base-level of knowledge and I just didn't get the memo. But I'll share my thoughts anyway.

[weapon-xox]

Poolverine writing idea, if you're still taking in ideas!! (It has a bit of angst, but it becomes fluff towards the end hehe) Basically Logan and Wade share a room in his apartment(since it's cramped and all), they're both asleep in the same bed. Logan suddenly has a really bad nightmare(possibly about his past) and kind of stabs Wade on the side with his claws in his sleep. When he wakes up, he does so in a panic when he realizes the blood on the bed and his claws in Wade. For a split second, he forgets about Wade's healing factor and starts to panic and profusely apologize, but Wade just takes his hands in his and starts to reassure him that he's alright, he's not going anywhere, and that he didn't do anything wrong, it's okay.😞😞

thank you for the request!

Logans nightmares are always the same, sometimes the hazy images and distorted voices of those who stood above and watched as he lay awake, pumped full of adamantium while scientists, doctors and government officials laughed and drank over his suffering, spoke of the ways he'd be used as their weapon, how they'd wipe his memory and use him for their own sick gains.

Weapon X they had called him, and while they claimed he was a failed experiment, before he'd killed most of the room, Logan felt he was to blame for every man, woman and child who'd been used after him in any attempt to replicate what would otherwise had been a successful weapon. In a way, that hurt him worse than the adamantium had, the needles that pricked his skin, made his heart stop.

The poster boy for a perfect weapon gone wrong.

Othertimes, and more frequently, his dreams were of the X-Men. His family, who he had walked away from, found piled up like wood, their blood like a fire. These dreams were hazy as well, but far too clear for his liking, no head injury other than trauma to wipe his memories of that night. He'd shoved his own claws through his head on some occasions, fresh after the massacre, but they didn't prove to work as well as a good old fashioned bullet to the head. It helped, a little, but he could still remember and he really didn't want to remember.

Except it was his fault, and it was selfish to try to forget about his X-Men, about what had happened, about what he had done in the aftermath... A victim of his own uncontrollable rage, although Logan would never dare look at it that way. He deserved these dreams, to remember, and nothing could change that.

What woke Logan up this time was a soft, quiet groan. His eyes flew open, the room dark other than the gentle embrace of the moon through cracked blinds. Logan was panting, thick body hair soaked and clinging to his equally as damp skin. Half propped on his side, eyes still tired and wet from sleep and his nightmare, Logan could hear a voice - it felt distant, but close, a soft chant of his name and soon a hand on his wrist, far too kind, undeserved.

Logan looked down at that hand, at his own hand, and the moonlight was in just the right position that the first thing Logan really managed to take in was the blood soaked sheets. Eyes trailed up, his claws were sticky and wet with the same blood, and Logans heart stopped at the source.

He didn't remove the claws yet, still stunned, but looked at his victims face. There was no pain there, no anger, instead twisted only in slight discomfort but otherwise Logan was sure that expression meant worry.

And that's when he retracted the claws. That's when the string of apologies began, heavy sobs as he begged for forgiveness, desperately pushed his hands against the wounds he had made to try and stop the blood but all it managed to do was cause Wade to yelp out a little 'Oh!'

"Sorry-" Logan choked out, and although the wounds had already closed, and Wade was still breathing, Logan just wanted to die. "'m sorry. Didn't mean to-"

"Shh," Wade soothed, his voice like butter in Logans ears but no, he didn't deserve to hear it, to have Wade console him when he had been yet another victim of Logans claws just moments before. "It's okay, Peanut. Daddys here-"

"Don't-" Wade laughed softly. A laugh, that was a good sign, a sign of life. Logan was starting to wake up a little more now.

"You're right, I'm sorry. No time for jokes, huh? Wolvies going through some big, bad feelings," Wade purred in his ear, a hand on Logans head, scratching at all the right places that Logan couldn't help but to lean into his palm.

"It's okay, Lo. I'm here, and look- I'm safe! These bad boys tried to heal while you were still inside of me, not in the sexy way-" Wade looks to the camera and mouths not today, at least, then looks back at his partner with a smile. "and no more blood. Well, not fresh, anyway. I might need to wash these sheets."

Unconvinced, Logan lifted Wades shirt, squinting through his lashes to avoid fully seeing the damage, but... Wade was right. There was no sign of a wound, no fresh blood. His breathing was even, his heart was still beating, and he was looking at Logan with love in his eyes and the Wolverine wanted to run away.

Maybe Wade had sensed that, because the second that Logan even shifted the hand in his hair grasped at his strands, tugged with just enough force that Logan has no choice but to look at Wade, whose expression turned dark.

"Don't you dare run from this, Logan. I won't let you, actually, but I know you're thinking about it." Logan whines, deflates a little bit, and Wades face is soft again. "Oh peanut."

Wade takes his hands, smooths over his bloodied knuckles, massages his thumb between the still unsheathed claws that hadn't gone back in yet. He's able to coax them back inside of Logan, allowing him to relax enough to want to put them away, and chased the claws and the quickly healing gashes with kisses and quiet words of encouragement.

"There we go, princess. Look at you, so good to me, for me. Whose my good boy? Huh?" Wade could only laugh when Logans eyes narrowed. "See? I'm okay. A little thing called regenerative healing, does that ring a bell?" Logan thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Yeah, I... Sometimes I forget. Not used to it, I suppose. Sorry, bub." Wade shook his head.

"It happens."

"It's gotten people killed-"

"But not me."

Logan went silent, because Wade was right. Not him. Never him, because while Logan felt his own regeneration was some sick kind of joke, it was a blessing on Wade (not the circumstances of how he got them, of course).

Wade was okay. He was here, he was breathing, laughing, smiling. Logan wanted to pinch himself, figure out if he was still dreaming, if Wade was about to drop dead at any given minute-

but he hadn't, and he wouldn't, and Wade was kissing him and it was very real. Logan melted, fisting into Wades ruined sleep shirt, chests pressed together. They stayed like that for a long while, breathing each others air rather than kissing, Wade muttering over and over about how he was safe, needed Logan to know he was safe, and that he still loved him so fucking much.

Logan didn't say it back, he was no good with words, but Wade could feel it when Logan would lean into him more, would breathe in his scent. He knew Logan loved him by the way he'd stare at him across the table at breakfast as he ate or drew pictures, how Logan was the one to make him the big pile of pancakes topped with fresh fruits and syrups, whipped cream and a chocolate drizzle. Just how Wade liked.

Logan loved him in the way he'd take care of Wade, how he'd bathe him, hold him, watch as he'd throw a huge tantrum all because his mess had been shuffled around slightly and now he can't find the thing he needs, but the love in Logans eyes never wavered for a second.

And, oh god, did he ever love him with his body.

Logan had his ways of showing it, too scared to say those three little words because everytime he does, someone dies, and Wades been cursed to live forever but with Logans luck, saying I love you would break that curse, and the next time Logan stabs him in his sleep he won't be so lucky.

So, Logan loved him, Wade knew this much, so when Logan would take out his nightmares on his scarred body, how could Wade possibly be mad? He just couldn't. He could never rid Logan of his nightmares, the mutant had them every time he closed his eyes for any length of time longer than a blink, but he could just be there for Logan, hold him, tell him it was okay and that nothing Logan could ever do would hurt him. Nothing physically, at least.

Logan doesn't say I love you, but as they both start to finally drift off to get a few more hours of sleep, and maybe Wade was dreaming now, but he could've sworn he heard the small voice of a frightened sounding Wolverine whisper back, "love you too", and Wade spent the rest of his night watching Logan sleep, ready to protect him from his next nightmare...

But it never came.

[abm111815]

Guess the secret is out now- Rafe x reader

Imagine Rafe was the one floating in the water after being with Groff. Only no one knows he is actually also your boyfriend….

9 months. 9 months of sneaking around, lying to my friends, and being with someone I NEVER imagined I would be with. Rafe Cameron. My friends would kill me if they knew it, but honestly he isn’t what they think he is. Not anymore at least. It all started when I was filling in for a few shifts at the Country Club for some extra cash. His dad had just died and he was not in a good place. He was heartbroken, alone, and didn’t know who to talk to. One conversation turned into months and months of getting closer and here we are now. 9 months later, I don’t know what I’d do without him. Today, he was having some meetings with some new investor and I was fishing with the pogues. We were done for the day and headed back to the surf shop. I expected to hear from Rafe by now, but still had no notifications from him, which was odd. He usually reaches out a few times during the day.

We are almost half way back to the surf shop when JJ says he sees something floating in the water…..”holy shit, is that a body?!” We all jumped up to look out the front of the boat, and sure enough there was a body floating on their back in a growing sea of red. “We have to help them!” said Sarah. We got closer and closer, and that is when my nightmare started. “Wait…..that’s Rafe!” “Oh shit, screw it man, keep going then.” “Guys he sucks but he is still my brother.” I couldn’t hear anymore of this. I had to get to him and help. I didn’t think, i just acted. I jumped in, much to the shock and disbelief of my friends. I grabbed him and swam back towards the boat. Everyone just kept staring at me. “Help me, damn it! He isn’t conscious, I can’t lift him! Someone fucking help me!” I know I was screaming at them but no one was freaking doing anything to help me. He is still a person, I know he has a bad past but still.

Finally, John B and Sarah helped me and Rafe both up onto the boat. He was not conscious and he didn’t seem to be breathing either! “Oh my god, he’s dead y’all!” Said JJ. “Shut the hell up, do not fucking say that to me right now!” I could feel the stares and hear them whispering about why I was acting so insane, but I didn’t care. My boyfriend was bleeding out and not breathing! I immediately started CPR to try and get him back. After what felt like an eternity, he finally started to cough up some water. “Baby, just breathe, I’m here. You’re gonna be ok. Just take it easy.” “Baby?? Did she seriously just call him that?” “Yeahhhhh, I think we are missing some pieces to this puzzle guys..” We finally arrived back at the surf shop and I did my best to stitch up his side, it was a big gash. “Baby, what happened? What were you doing out there?” Rafe was still kind of out of it, “I was meeting an investor, Groff, on his boat and things got heated. He got the jump on me and pushed me back. I must have hit something on the boat when I fell. He knew I was hurt, but he just kept driving away… I didn’t have my phone with me, it was still on the boat. I didn’t think I’d see you again. I love you baby. I know you weren’t ready to tell your friends, but sadly, i think you don’t have a choice now.” “I don’t care about that Rafe. I’m just happy you’re alive. I love you too, so much.” At that point, the secret was out and I didn’t care what my friends had to say about it. I was happy. I loved Rafe and Rafe loved me. If that was all I had left, I would be ok with that.

[kirbsmakemesmile]

PLEASE TALK MORE ABOUT MK DEMON BEAST FORM.... on my hands and knees rn 🙏

Ok so pretty much this is like his “true form” this is the potential that nightmare gave him after kidnapping him and experimenting on him as a baby, so before I start explaining the anatomy and junk here is what the true form looks like yeah

So I’ll explain a little bit, he has two pairs of wings, one attached to his arms and the other grows to an enormous size which allows him to fly around extremely fast

In comparison to normal Mk, this is what they look like side by side

In order for this to be possible, nightmare had to alter his anatomy to allow for him to stretch to this size, so here’s some stuff to explain dat

So in comparison to a normal skeleton, Mk has two extra humerus bones, and two extra femur bones

Basically what they will do when he begins transforming is they will dislocate and the extra bones will pop into the ball joint socket and pop into the other bones to create a new joint and making him super tall. Another thing is his spine is cushioned with a BUUUNCH of cartilage that allows for his spine to be stretched and give him more height as well But what is the point of all this?? Like why would nightmare go to this extent instead of just giving Mk some crazy power, here’s why

The True form is supposed to be nightmares way of mocking Mk while still using him as a pawn here’s an example, Mk is already insecure about his body, his height, and the wing mutation that he has, so nightmare uses this to his advantage

With true form Mk, nightmare mocks him by exposing the parts that he doesn’t want people to see, or making a caricature out of his desires. Since Mk is already insecure about his body, nightmares exposes his stomach, and also gives him height, but in a way that makes him look like a beast. He amplifies his wings to show everyone who he truly is, and completely changes his face to look like a monster

The true form happens to Mk three times

The first time is when nightmare uses him to ambush the GSA during the first war, and this is also when he loses his vision (Mk rips his own eyes out)

The second time happens in Meta knights revenge, when he’s fighting Kirby and chasing him out

And the third time happens in Star allies when he gets controlled by the Jamba heart

So yeah this is what true form Mk looks like, I’m open to any questions you guys have and yeah!

Here’s how the transformation looks like too

I kind of laughed

OK GOODNIGHT GUYS YALL ARE WELCOME TO ASK STUFF AND YEAH!

PLEASE ASK QUESTIONS IF YOU HAVE ANY I WILL HIT THE GRIDDY IF YOU DO 🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑🤑

[xantissa]

So, turns out we - mostly me to be honest- am kind of writing the Unintentional Dream series backwards.

1. Falling - first fic in series, written and posted

2. Dreaming - second fic, written and posted.

3. Nightmare - third instance, not even started.

4. Simulacrum- 70% written what the fuck

5. Calling Fire- fully written and probably soon to be posted.

I have been writing like I'm possessed recently. @alxina is tearing her hair out in frustration about my nightly bouts of unapproved writing.

Also I have no idea if there should be more Fics between 3 and 4, but I think there will be.

I hope you all will enjoy non chronological story reading because apparently that's how it's going to be now! I'm apparently going to be as chaotic as our favorite useless demon daddy now.