#genuine request for information

[mobius-m-mobius]

Hey! Change of subject. I thought of an answer. To what? Your question.

Lokius + reflection for anon

[good-beanswrites]

Hear me out:

Kotoko adopted Es, and Fuuta went ballistic.

Rip Fuuta... he can never catch a break... Asdfsdf thank you for this, it was a blast thinking of all the ridiculous ways this could have played out! (One possibility I toyed with was Fuuta's competitive instincts take over, he fights her for Es, only to realize too late "*I* don't want to be responsible for a whole child WAIT") It's a similar format to the last one, with a knock-at-the-door reveal, but I still think it works 😂

“Don’t fuck with me, Es.”

“I would never.”

Lying brat. Fuuta knew they would every chance that they got. It was the reason he was so relieved that Es decided to find somewhere else to live after Milgram’s end. Fuuta had nothing left to fear from his former warden, but the others’ suggestions that Es become his new roommate still made him shudder. Three interrogations in a closed space with the rude kid were enough for him, thank you very much.

However, it wasn’t all a relief. He couldn’t help feeling concerned about who they’d gone to live with. Given how cryptic they were being, Fuuta would have been convinced they walked into the woods to find a furry family of Jackalopes or something to raise them –except, they showed up for this walk with clean clothing and internet access. 

“I don’t believe you. You’re fucking with me right now. Why can’t you just tell me who it is?” 

“It isn’t any of your concern. Hey, I thought you swore to stay out of others’ business. You turned over a new leaf and all that?”

“Tch. I meant other people’s business. You’re different.” 

If Es had vanished off the grid like some of the other prisoners, Fuuta wouldn’t have cared. But they were here, near enough to arrange some lame meetup, which meant they were going to remain in his life for a while longer. And that meant, as the model citizen that Fuuta was, he felt responsible for ensuring they didn’t get themselves kidnapped by some creep. 

He asked, “how much do you know about them, anyway? I mean, what kind of person can house a random weird kid on incredibly short notice? That’s definitely suspicious.”

Fuuta pulled the mask up on his face as they turned down a more crowded street. He knew people were going to gawk at his eye anyways, but it still helped him feel like he was blending in. With his thoughts on the injury for a moment, he was glad that bitch Kotoko was one of the prisoners who had gone off the grid. Good riddance.

“I promise, she’s fine. Not weird with children at all. In fact, she’s really good with them, which is why she could help me on such short notice.” They muttered, “but it’s not like I’m that young…”

“That’s still not normal. Is she some old housewife or something?”

“Ah, are you trying to do the interrogation this time? Actually, I’d say she’s around your age.”

“It’s just you two living alone? I’m still worried about Milgram coming looking for us again – can a girl like that really protect you?”

“Is everyone supposed to live with a big, strong man, like you?”

“Wha–!” Fuuta’s cheeks burned red. “That’s not what I –!”

“I’m only teasing. It’s cute that you care about me.”

That only agitated him more. “It’s not cute! I’m being realistic! One of us has to think about your safety while you’re just distracted by some pretty girl.”

“What makes you think she’s pretty?”

“Well, why else would you be so careless in deciding to live with her?”

All of the sudden, he saw it in Es’ eyes: that spark of mischief that Fuuta had come to loathe. He could never tell what they were plotting, but it was never a good sign.

Es held up their hands in mock surrender. They put on a ridiculous, overdramatic voice. “Ah, you caught me, Fuuta! I’m hiding her identity because she’s the most beautiful, capable woman in all of Japan, and I want to keep her all to myself!” 

He groaned, but they weren’t deterred. “She’s got everything, I couldn’t risk you falling for her! She’s quite capable of defending me. She’s very strong, with protective instincts much like your own. She understands our situation like no one else could. She’s got intense eyes, and you wouldn’t believe her singing voice. She enjoys deep conversations, she’s a dog person, she –”

“ – now you’re being the creep! Just shut up, I get it already...”

When they finally had the decency to pull it together, they reassured him. “It’s all true, though. So there’s no need to worry about me. I’m in good hands.”

Good hands, his ass. In only a brief conversation, the caretaker had gone from sounding a little suspicious to sounding way too good to be true… meaning she was extremely suspicious.

“Maybe someday I’ll introduce you, if you’re lucky...”

He turned his eyes away. “At least let me run some background checks on her first.” 

(He would just stalk her on social media, but that still counted.)

“You’re just going to stalk her on social media. That doesn’t count.”

“Eh? I have legit methods!” He hid deeper under his mask.

Even after the topic was dropped, after he and Es parted ways on an awkward goodbye, Fuuta was left thinking about this mystery woman. It took a bit of digging (and maybe a tiny bit of social media stalking) but at last he found where Es lived with this stranger. Contrary to what they may believe, he had turned over a new leaf. There would be no more hiding behind screens or letting others do the confrontation for him. Now that he was a changed person, he’d do the healthy and normal thing with this information: he’d march on down there himself and confront her like a man. 

He made it all the way to the front door with his chin high. He knocked with confidence. 

Then he began to shift nervously. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get the woman’s description out of his head. Sure, he was here to check on Es, but if someone happened to check him out at the same time, it was only right to be prepared… He straightened his shirt collar. He ran his fingers through his hair. He wondered if he should have covered up his eye to look more presentable.

The door swung open. 

The surprise on Kotoko’s face was nowhere near the amount on Fuuta’s.

“Oh, for fucks sake –!”

From somewhere behind her, Es’ laughter rang out.

[bizarrebazaar13]

all right I’ll bite. what are they interviewing that vampire about?

[tf2-plus2]

Employee Profile #107

Employee Profile for; ██████ ███████ Pyro

Age; Stated to be 23

Hair; Stated to be Dark Brown

Eyes; Stated to be Amber Hazel

Blood Type; O Positive

Height; 5'10"/177.8 CM

Weight; 159 Lbs/72.1 kg

D.O.B.; ███ ████, 1932

P.O.B.; ████, █████ █████████

Class; Pyrotechnician (Prefers simply "Pyro")

Job; Pyrotechnics

Background Information; [Per the THREAT [ ] REQUEST [X] of the employee in question, their background information has been DESTROYED [ ] WITHHELD [X] subject to any further updates or information at this time.]

Weapons; Pyro brought his own flamethrower that appears to be made from a propane tank, gas pump, and other home implements. The flare gun was made when he saw the Demoman's homemade explosives. He's very adept at using both, and has found a rather inventive way to blow enemy team members away by using the propane as a high powered propellant.

Notes; ██████ ███████ has been very clear that he does not wish his name, age, or place of origin to be noted down. Perhaps this is to keep his family safe? He has not been very forthcoming with that, but has asked that certain mail parcels from Canada be destroyed on reception.

Hiring Date; [REDACTED], 1960

[eclipsecrowned]

if it helps i'm not entirely convinced that their so called helpline wasn't a massive scam or attempt to phish either, and i know for sure it was an official channel for customer and it support pushed by corporate.

[justinefrischmanngf]

i have so much information about this random man’s sex life now because people in their late 20s LOVE telling me too much about their lives and i love listening to people be insane

[maxellminidisc]

Omg wait the cake aita blew up? Omg it's not THAT serious as in I dont think its fair to make it seem like either party is abusive or misogynistic. Like it is one of those "it's the little things that count" type of arguments (though frankly its a birthday and that's important) but damn some of you are getting a little TOO ahead of yourselves and making assumptions about these peoples personalities and actions that we have no clue about just based on this ONE instance and information

[thedevilsfamiliar]

It’s the way I try to explain that the Internet is forever. Sure, you deleted it but there are many ways to retrieve it. Not everyone you talk to has your best interest at heart. Doesn’t mean you can’t have older friends, just be aware of your surroundings yk.

I try to not scare people, but it’s really. Really. Easy to find people online, you don’t even need to go into the dark or deep web (which would essentially be the second page of google). If you know which websites to use, and the persons name— you can find them. Which, again, is why you don’t give out your full legal name, your birthday, your area.

So, again. Internet safety.

Really genuinely feel like we need to bring back internet safety classes.

[die-tenebris]

Sick to death of posts on tumblr reading like the voter disenfranchisement from all the past elections. We all need to vote. If you can, you'd better vote. Be pragmatic. Be realistic. Don't let somebody prevent you from exercising the singular right you have to decide things in this rancid country.

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Damian is de-aged to a baby and lost in Gotham. A magic user hit him with some kind of spell. His legs don’t work as well and he has trouble walking. That’s when a man appears and squats down with a tilt of his head.

“Yea, you are definitely not supposed to be out here, little guy.”

Damian glares at the man, early twenties, stubble along his jaw, ragged clothes, and dark bags under his eyes.

The man turns his head to look at the brick wall.

“Are you sure?”

And now he was talking to a wall. Curses. Of course he would be found by a crazy person.

The man suddenly hangs his head with a deep sigh. He regains himself quickly and stands. Moving closer to put his hands under Damian arms to lift him to perch on his hip.

Damian squirms to get down but refuses to make a sound. The last time he opened his mouth like this it was a pathetic baby sound. He couldn’t let this man see him like this.

“Looks like you’re coming home with me, little guy. I can tell you’ve got some spirit in you. Good, you’ll need it.”

Not ominous at all.

Damian stays with the man, mostly because he couldn’t physically drive a car, but also because he was almost always with him. The man would talk to air at the most random times. Obviously a schizophrenic. But Damian had to admit this man, Danny he comes to find out through a neighbor baby talking at him, has been genuinely trying to take care of him and take care of him well. Well, to the best of his abilities anyway. 

He feeds him organic purées that don’t taste half bad, except the carrots, that one was unacceptable. Danny cleans him regularly despite his crappy apartment and makes sure he is dressed appropriately for the weather. He makes an effort to take him out to the park to play in the sandbox or just walk around discovering ‘new’ things.

Damian doesn’t need a parent, he outgrew the concept when he was five and technically he already had one, but he could tell Danny would make an excellent father. Some mistakes can be overlooked compared to the effort he was putting in.

The only concerning thing was the talking to thin air. It took Damian an embarrassing amount of time to figure out the reason Danny was visiting all these random people and the graveyard. (Sometimes he will set Damian down to ‘play’ in the grass at the cemetery. It was quite odd.)

He was talking to ghosts. It wasn’t thin air or imaginary friends, no it was actually dead people. The reason Damian actually believes this is for two reasons.

One, Danny shows true results. Damian observes closely whenever they visit a ‘client’ and Danny always has accurate information despite never looking up or researching anything going in.

Two, he never calls himself a medium or psychic. He doesn’t boast about his ability to see ghosts. He does what he does to help the ghosts move on to the other side. Closure is what Danny always says. Closure for the family and the victim. In Gotham, there are a lot of victims.

Damian adjusts to his new life with Danny. It’s been five months and he’s getting used to being small and vulnerable. He’s allowed to be messy and whiny and childish. Danny never scolds him like Mother did. The man has never hit him or raised his voice at him and never expects anything from him. He encourages his progression to speak and walk, but doesn’t expect the best out of him.

It’s… nice. A good break if anything.

They are at the park when one of the bats spot him and pauses. Danny is blowing bubbles into the air and Damian tries to pop as many as he can. It’s a silly game with no clear rules, but Damian finds it entertaining nonetheless.

“Hi there! Is he yours?”

Dick Grayson wears a bright smile, but Damian can see the tightness around his eyes.

“Huh? Oh, yea, this is Damian,” Danny answers.

He had written it with the wooden blocks Danny had given him one week in. Danny took one look at the name on the ground, laughed loudly and ran with it.

“Do you mind if I say hi? He’s so cute.”

Danny looks puzzled by the request but ends up shrugging his shoulders, not seeing a problem with letting a stranger get close to Damian. (Damian knew Danny’s intense eyes were watching Dick’s every move. He was very protective like that.)

“Sure.”

Dick squats down to search Damian’s green eyes. Damian stares back just as intensely.

“Hey there, Damian. My name is Dick.”

Damian gives him a flat look at Dick’s terrible introduction.

“Grayson.”

Although with his little baby teeth not fully in it sounds more like ‘way-shah’.

Relief flashes across Dick’s face and he gives Damian a reassuring smile. It’s not as reassuring at he thinks it is. It promises to bring him home and restore him to his original age. Damian doesn’t know if that’s what he wants anymore.

Dick stands and gives Danny some imaginary excuse to leave quickly. Damian watches him go and so does Danny.

“Funny guy, huh Dami?”

Damian doesn’t respond and Danny notices his change in mood.

“Come here, little guy.”

He knows what Danny is going to do and willingly goes. He is pulled up into the man’s lap and held between two surprisingly muscular arms. Danny’s hugs are nice and warm. They aren’t too tight like Dick’s nor are they stiff like Bruce’s. He never thought he could enjoy human contact, but Danny has been showing him things about himself he didn’t ever know. Turns out he does like hugs and playing airplane and when Danny runs his fingers through his hair when he’s really sleepy.

“Let’s go home a little early today, huh? I’ll make spaghetti and you can be as messy as you want,” Danny promises.

Damian hums. Yes, that sounds nice.

That night Batman comes in through the window. Damian is waiting.

“Damian,” Batman whispers.

“Bah-mun.”

The flat, unamused stare is what gives him away.

Batman lets out a breath silently and reaches into the crib Danny had gotten him.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Batman jerks into action, twisting to face Danny who had appeared suddenly. The door behind him is still closed.

Batman stays quiet, silently studying the man before him dressed in pajama pants and a worn t-shirt.

Danny tilts his head as he does the same. Damian has never seen the man so serious. He silently worries for the man. He didn’t want him getting hurt to unnecessarily protecting him from his father.

“I’d have to break your arm if you tried to do what it looks like you’re doing.”

Danny says it so plainly. So simple.

Batman straightens.

“He isn’t yours.”

He doesn’t say Damian is his. He doesn’t claim him as his own. Just that Danny shouldn’t have him.

Damian silently agrees because technically he’s right. He doesn’t deserve Danny. He can’t keep playing house like he’s an actual baby. But Damian is also selfish and over the last few months has been taught that it’s okay to ask for things he wants even if it’s not inherently beneficial. The stuffed dog he sleeps with every night is proof of that.

So Damian says nothing.

“He is now,” Danny answers simply like there was no other answer to such a statement.

“He needs to go back to where he belongs.”

“Over my dead body,” is the immediate response.

They stare each other down until Danny scoffs.

“Don’t think I’m not petty enough to fight you, Batman. I’ll fight anyone who wants to take him from me. Damian is mine.”

When Batman tries to forcibly take him, he ends up with a concussion, a blood nose, and two broken arms. Red Robin finds him in a dumpster the next morning.

The story continues with Damian learning how to be a child his age, Danny protecting him and doting on his brilliant son, and the Batfam’s frequent failed attempts to kidnap Damian back to them.

[uncanny-tranny]

The filter is for clarification and accessibility's sake - I know it can be hard to distinguish screenshots from post text.

I'm not platforming the blog who wrote this as their entire platform is dedicated solely to trans people... but seeing as I have seen others say this type of thing, I find it useful to address with the assumption that people who wonder this are actually doing so in good faith.

The thing about testing and medication is this: we don't (typically, there can be exceptions) test for potential, we test for the reality.

When my testosterone levels are tested, it is because the reality of my endocrine system is that it is testosterone-dominant. Yes, my endocrine system can (and has!) changed, but why would you test for a thing that isn't currently reality? What would that accomplish? You wouldn't be treating me as a patient, but your ideal of what my body ought to be. In the example, I highlighted that my hemoglobin changed by two grams or so, and that is literally because my endocrine system has changed - it is reality for my body that it has "male levels" because, again, my endocrine system has changed.

If you want a different way to see how this logic is flawed: why should I pay taxes when, without a job, I wouldn't have money, and therefore wouldn't pay taxes anyway? I have the potential not to have money, therefore, regardless of if I have money or not, I should be treated like I have none because of the potential to not have any.

That isn't a perfect comparison, mind you, but the point is to illustrate why it doesn't work. You don't treat people within your ideals. Your ideal might be that I don't take testosterone, but that isn't the case, and hasn't been for years - I haven't missed taking my medication in nearly three years, thank gd.

Again, I wanted to take this chance to actually push back against this because I've seen otherwise non-transphobic people do this, and it's odd to me. I can't emphasize how important it is to actually treat people with the reality they are living with and in.

The interesting thing about medically transitioning is how you might just be treated with the wrong framework.

When I get my hormone levels checked, for instance, they check it against the wrong type of person, so everything is flagged. Did you know that testosterone encourages hemoglobin production? Well, my hemoglobin is perfectly in line with male levels, but my levels are checked for the wrong endocrine system. Before I realized this, I was really confused as to why my hemoglobin was two grams over the range given, and was confused as to why that happened, and worried about if I should be worried about that. But it was a normal consequence of my testosterone levels, which are also flagged though they are well-within the range that is typical for my age and health categories.

The way we treat and measure for trans people and trans patients will affect the treatment and education they receive. There are ways in which hormones especially can influence how one's body operates, and with that in mind, you also have to change the way you interact with a trans person. With my testosterone levels, if you were to measure them against the incorrect endocrine system, you would fail to treat me in reality - that being the way my body has changed and maintained homeostasis since being on T.

[tacticalprincess]

Um… König who thinks every woman with large breasts lactates. And you find out when he’s sucking too hard.

getting so many titty related requests y’all know him a lil too well…

this with inexperienced!könig !! you’re riding his thick fingers, trying to get them to hit the spongy spot at the front of your cunt because he keeps forgetting to curl them. he started making out with your tits as soon as you gave him the okay, noticing the way his eyes honed in on them since you lifted your shirt and taking pity on him. it’s not until he starts nipping at your sensitive nipples, the suction of his mouth borderline painful, that you try to pull away.

“ow! what are you doing?”

his eyes are almost completely black when he looks up, mouth shiny with his own spit. it matches the glossy sheen on your breasts, all swollen and red from his efforts. “trying to… get the milk…” he heaves, ready to dive back in.

you hold him back to inform him that lactation usually only happens when a woman is pregnant, and he gets all pouty and confused, reaching up with his free hand to inspect your boobs. “but they’re so heavy… and fat?” he tries to squeeze your nipple to make sure.

he’ll genuinely think the solution is to just get you pregnant so he can taste your milk. all you can do is sigh. you’re not sure what you got yourself into…

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　THE FARRAR ELEMENTARY SCHOOL IS ALIVE

matt sturniolo x reader

SUMMARY: When Sam and Colby bring the Sturniolo Triplets and Y/N, a medium and Matt's girlfriend, to investigate the Farrar Elementary School, they expect only to discover more about its history, but, instead, meet something far darker.

WARNING: Demon apparition, ghost talk, paranormal experiences.

REQUESTED?: No.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

A/N²: This can be read as a part 2 of my work 'Medium Girl' with Matt Sturniolo.

A/N³: Happy Halloween, guys! 🩷

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The lightheartedness grew inside the vast gym when Sam, Colby, Matt, Nick, Chris, and Y/N stepped inside of it. The eerie silence of the halls felt distant now, replaced by the echoing laughter and jokes bouncing off the gym's high walls. It was open, empty, and slightly less oppressive than the narrow corridors they'd been walking through. Their cameras' flashlights created stark beams that cut through the heavy dark, bouncing playfully as they pointed at the distant walls and items scattered across the yellowish floor.

"That is terrifying." Chris joked, pointing to a shadowy open doorway at the far end of the gym. His tone was playful, but the door itself seemed to swallow the light, almost absorbing it into an impenetrable black void.

Colby quickly looked over at Chris with a knowing expression, pointing the camera lans at him.

"That is the Boiler Room." He said in a tone both informative and slightly excited.

"That's not an inviting room at all whatsoever." Chris muttered, laughing, his voice betraying more nervous excitement than genuine fear.

As the group chuckled and commented about it, inching forward, Y/N’s laughter faded as her gaze locked onto the entrance. She felt a wave of something cold and clammy wrap around her, more powerful than the draft in the building.

Being a medium, she was no stranger to spiritual energy, but this... this felt different.

Her chest tightened as chills skittered up her spine, her heart hammering faster the longer she stared into the doorway. The energy was thick, almost tangible, pressing down on her like a weight. It was dark, heavy, and so deeply embedded in the space that she could almost taste it on the air; a mix of anger, pain, and a bitterness that sent icy needles racing through her veins.

Matt, standing near her since the moment they entered the school, quickly noticed her shift in demeanor, his brows knitted in concern.

"Hey, you okay?"

She swallowed hard, tearing her gaze from the doorway to look at him, finding comfort in the middle of ocean blue eyes.

"Yeah... Yeah, there’s just... something wrong in there." She murmured, her voice tight. "It doesn’t feel right."

Colby, overhearing, chuckled nervously.

"Yeah, it’s messed up in there." He admitted, shrugging. "We've been in there once before, but if any of you guys want to go, take the camera and look around."

The words hung heavily in the air, a silent challenge.

Nick and Chris immediately pointed at Matt. They both stepped back, dramatically widening their arms to clear a path to the door, their mischievous smirks only amplifying the tension.

"I mean, we all know who the bravest ones here are." Sam teased from behind them, laughing after receiving an "obviously" look from Nick.

Matt flashed a wide, determined grin, meeting Y/N’s eyes with a spark of excitement. After The Driskell Hotel, he discovered that he loved the thrill of these investigations, and with Y/N there, he almost felt invincible. Y/N’s stomach twisted with a mix of fear and anticipation, but she forced herself to shrug, flashing a nonchalant smile in return.

"Guess we’re doing this." She said, her voice more confident than she felt.

Matt took the camera from Colby, giving a quick smirk to the others.

"I feel like there can’t be anything." He joked, his voice steady, earning whoops and cheers from the guys. Together, he and Y/N led the way, with Chris and Nick following close behind.

As they stepped through the doorway into the Boiler Room, the energy shifted drastically. The air was thick, almost suffocating, clinging to their skin like invisible cobwebs. The once-bright beams of the camera’s flashlight seemed to dim as if the darkness here was absorbing the light itself, drinking it up and leaving nothing but a faint glow around them.

Every step Y/N took felt like wading through tar. Her limbs grew heavy, and with each inhale, it was as though she was breathing in the sorrow, anger, and fear that had seeped into the very concrete walls of the room. Her skin prickled, her head was starting to hurt, and a low hum of energy reverberated through her bones, vibrating up her spine and making her feel unsteady on her feet. Matt was ahead, filming with an almost oblivious bravery, but her steps slowed as they entered deeper into the room.

Pain. A pulse of it shot through her, raw and piercing, making her gasp and clench her hands by her sides as if she could wring it out of her body, her heartbeat echoing on her ears. She tried to keep her expression steady, not wanting to alarm the others, but Matt glanced over his shoulder at her, noticing her pale face and furrowed brow.

She shook her head at his questioning eyes, letting him keep walking ahead of her, allowing him, Chris, and Nick to venture toward the back of the room, where another open doorway beckoned, leading into an even darker, more enclosed space.

"Oh my God, it's bigger than I thought-" Matt started excitedly, being interrupted by a scared Nick.

"Matt! Don't say 'Oh my God' like that!"

Y/N stayed close to the entrance, her gaze fixed on the doorway ahead, the corner of her lips lifting slightly with the brother’s bickering. Something felt profoundly wrong in there, and every instinct in her body screamed for her to turn back, to leave the darkness to its own devices.

She took a step forward right after Chris, but the energy hit her like a physical blow. She stumbled, her legs unsteady as she caught herself against the doorframe. Noticing her falter, Chris immediately turned, his concern flaring.

"Whoa, whoa, hey, you okay?" He asked, reaching to steady her, his hand grasping her arm. But Y/N didn’t hear him, nor did she feel his touch. She was already slipping away, pulled into a vision so intense it drowned out reality.

She was now surrounded by towering flames that crackled with a furious intensity. They licked up the walls around her, swallowing everything in a bright, blistering heat. Through the blaze, a young woman appeared, engulfed in flames, her face twisted in agonizing terror. The woman’s scream sliced through the air; a raw, primal sound unlike anything Y/N had ever heard before. Instinctively, her hands flew up to her ears, desperately trying to block out the agonizing cry. It was a cry of pure pain and desperation, the kind that lingered, sinking into the skin and soul.

Then, she saw him. A tall, imposing figure emerged from the shadows behind the woman, his face obscured by the darkness but his presence unmistakably menacing. He loomed over her, radiating a sick, cold satisfaction as the woman screamed, flames rising higher around them. Y/N could feel it, all the malice rolling off the man, thick and suffocating, causing her to gulp, her eyes widening in terror when the man's eyes flickered from the woman to hers.

He couldn't see her, could he?

As the flickering of a lightning, three distinct figures appeared behind the man before vanishing completely, and just as suddenly as it began, the vision ended, leaving Y/N cold, breathless, and disoriented, the horrifying images imprinted in her mind.

Her surroundings snapped back into focus, the dimly lit Boiler Room reappearing around her in hazy fragments. She gasped, struggling to ground herself, her eyes searching around the room frantically, but as her vision cleared, her stomach twisted with a sickening dread. There, in the center of the second room, right in between the other two doorways, crouched a figure that defied anything she’d ever encountered, even in her darkest visions.

This wasn’t a spirit; she could feel the difference. The creature hunched low, its bony hands splayed across the grimy floor, its body twisted and contorted, as if barely contained within the physical plane. Shadows clung to its grotesque form, an aura of darkness so thick it devoured any light that dared come near. Its mottled skin was stretched and scarred, warped with unnatural shapes, as though stitched together from nightmares.

And then, she saw its eyes; deep, glowing red, like embers of molten rage, burning into her with a cruel, penetrating awareness. Those eyes locked onto her, narrowing with a sinister recognition. It knew she could see it, sense it, and understand the threat it posed. The fury in its gaze was suffocating, an anger so intense it filled the room, pressing down on her, trapping her in place.

Before she could gather herself, a voice oozed into her mind, cold and sharp as a dagger, each word dripping with malice. "Don’t tell anyone."

The command reverberated through her skull, a dark echo that chilled her to her core. She felt her heart hammering, her pulse quickening as a frigid terror clawed its way up her spine. The demon remained crouched, but its body tensed, coiled like a predator about to strike.

A whimper scaped from Y/N's throat when it began to inch forward, its gaze never wavering, as if relishing the fear it instilled with each calculated, crawling step.

"Y/N?" Matt’s voice was distant, but it cut through the fog of terror consuming her. She couldn’t respond, frozen in place as the demon drew nearer, dragging itself across the dirty ground, echoing with a disgusting sound of skin pressing against pebbles, her mind trapped in the paralyzing scene.

"What's happening? Why is she looking like that?" Chris's voice sounded muffled, dripping with anxiety, worry, and fear, his hand still holding her arms.

"Baby?" This time, Matt’s voice was sharper, laced with urgency. She felt a shift as he tossed the camera to Nick, then rushed to her side. His presence was solid, grounding, and he wrapped a protective arm around her waist, pulling her close as he tried to get her attention while shielding her from whatever it was that she was seeing. "Hey, babe, are you okay? What’s wrong?"

She could barely hear him, his words muffled, distant. Her legs wobbled, feeling like they might give out at any second, and Matt held her tighter, his warmth battling the unnatural chill that had invaded her body, her skin feeling as cold as the winter.

"Y/N, hey, look at me. Can you hear me?" His tone was steady, doing a great job at hiding the extreme fear that he felt, his hands cradling her face as he searched her eyes for any sign of recognition.

But she couldn’t answer, couldn’t focus. The demon’s furious glare was seared into her vision, its whispered threat echoing in her mind as a thick, oppressive darkness continued to drag her deeper into its depths.

Matt drew a sharp breath, his grip tightening around Y/N as he glanced over his shoulder at his brothers.

"We need to get out of here. Now." His tone was rough, leaving no room for argument.

The severity in his voice snapped them out of their stunned state, and they exchanged a quick look before following the couple to the exit door of the Boiler Room. Their footsteps echoed, tense and hurried, with Nick and Chris casting anxious glances behind them as if hoping to catch a glimpse of whatever had gripped Y/N so tightly, Chris's hand searching desperately for Nick's arm, trying to find comfort.

As they stepped outside the oppressive confines of the room, an almost immediate sense of relief washed over them. The chill that had settled into Y/N’s bones began to ease, and her tense posture softened as if an invisible weight had finally been lifted. She inhaled deeply, her body leaning heavily into Matt’s, letting his steady presence anchor her back to reality. Her scared eyes moved frantically, searching over her shoulders as if waiting for it to follow them, but she only met darkness.

"Shh, you're okay now. I'm right here with you." Matt kept whispered sweet nothings against Y/N's head, gently forcing her to look away from the room, pressing her face against his own shoulder, her hair tickling his chin in a comforting way.

Sam and Colby, who had been standing by, initially cheered at their bravery but quickly went quiet when they noticed the disturbed expressions on everyone’s faces.

Sam stepped forward, worry etched across his features.

"Hey, you guys okay?" He asked, his tone low and concerned.

Matt opened his mouth, his protective instincts kicking in while his arms seemed to wrap around Y/N's body tighter.

"We should give her a second. She just needs a bit to calm down-"

"No." Y/N interrupted, her voice weak but firm. She shook her head, a determined glint in her eyes as she steadied herself, her cold hands finding his biceps, squeezing his hoodie-covered skin in reassurance. "They have to know."

Colby nodded, quickly understanding the weight of what she was about to say. He took the camera from Nick, aiming it at her as he stepped closer, Sam following behind.

Chris and Nick quickly gathered around the couple, assuming protective instances, waiting, their faces a mixture of curiosity and seriousness as Y/N prepared to explain, eyes frantically looking behind their backs every second, the feeling of being watched seeming to grow more intense.

"I... I saw something." She began, her voice a touch unsteady but gathering strength as she continued. "When I looked at that room, there was this... this intense heat, and suddenly, it was like I was somewhere else entirely. I saw flames, a massive fire that seemed to consume everything around it. And in the middle of it all was a young woman, burning alive."

Her voice cracked slightly, and she closed her eyes, trying to shake the haunting image that had imprinted itself in her mind. A warm spread around her left shoulder, and she quickly recognized Nick's comforting touch.

"She was screaming, and it wasn’t like any scream I’ve ever heard before." Y/N continued, her face pale as she relived the vision. "It was pure agony... and then, there was a man behind her, just standing there, watching her burn. He was tall, menacing, and I knew, somehow, that he was the one who did this to her. He for sure worked here back in the day, I just knew it, and he killed her, and he was enjoying it." She paused, her voice barely a whisper. "And then, right before the vision ended, I saw three male figures behind him. I thought it was over, but when I looked up, there was something else in the room with us."

"The janitor, the principal, and the librarian." Sam muttered, furrowing his eyebrows, his eyes meeting Colby's dark ones, which held the same realization look.

The rest of the group was silent, hanging onto every word as Y/N’s gaze darkened, her eyes focused on some invisible point in the distance, Matt's firm hands around her hips keeping her grounded.

"It was a very dark creature, obviously a demon." She whispered. "Big, twisted, and so... so angry. Its skin was... I can’t even describe it. It was unnatural, almost as if it was pulled together from different things, and its eyes... they were red, glowing, and it was looking right at me." Her voice wavered as she continued, a tremor of fear slipping through. "It knew I could see it, and it was furious. And then... I heard a voice. In my head. It told me that I couldn't tell you about it."

A shiver ran through the group, everyone exchanging wary glances, trying to process the weight of what she was saying. Y/N took a shaky breath, her eyes flicking up to meet theirs.

"It started coming toward me, crawling like a snake, and that’s when Matt got to me. But... the warning felt like more than just a threat. It’s like it didn’t want us to have this information. It didn’t want us to know what happened here... This is all way darker than you guys expected."

Colby, his brow furrowed in thought, broke the silence.

"Wait, why wouldn’t it want us to know?"

Y/N hesitated, piecing together the fragments of knowledge she had gathered over years of honing her abilities.

"When it comes to entities like this, especially ones tied to a place or a tragedy... they draw power from secrecy, from fear. If we know what it is, what it’s done, it gives us the upper hand. And even more so if we learn its name."

Sam’s eyes widened, realization dawning on him as his gaze traveled from her to Colby and then back again.

"So, if we know its name, it becomes weaker?"

Y/N nodded slowly.

"Yes. Kind of. Names are powerful, especially with entities like that. It’s a way of binding it, of taking control. And right now, it knows we’re at an advantage. I just... I just have to figure out its name."

[elitisim]

so, i hit 1k sometime in the beginning of June ✨🥳. Which means my incessant yapping about absolutely nothing on every post I make and multiple months-long unannounced hiatuses didn't scare all of you off yet, so thanks for that y'all.

No, but for real tho, I genuinely want to express my gratitude to each and every one of you for putting up with me and all my BS, so my 1k+ gift exclusively consists of hairs requested by YOU!  Which is totally about giving back to the community that has supported me and NOT just an excuse to dump all the requests that have been sitting here piling up for months.

there are only 7 hairs in the preview image but a bunch of these are from sets, so all-in-all you're getting 17 female hairs!

INFORMATION:

None of this is my original work! All mesh credit goes to @sheabuttyr, @ebonixsims, @daylifesims, @simstrouble!

Set contains 17 hairs for for Teen ➤ Elder Females

due to how the meshes where made the Poloma Passion Twists and Monae Beads don't have root/tip controls so they’re only 2 channels the rest are 4 like normal.

credits, preview pictures, links to originals, poly counts and individual download links for every hair is under the cut.

polycounts are ALL over the place. Lowest hair is +10k, Highest one is +32k. Please reference the list under the cut before downloading!

Files comes in two flavors: Merged and Unmerged

Both types contain the exact same type of stuff (package file and preview images) except version one is one big merged file and the version has individual files.

[DOWNLOAD MERGED]

[DOWNLOAD UNMERGED]

[PICK AND CHOOSE]

Tagging list: @pis3update, @naturalhair-sims3, @xto3conversionsfinds, @kpccfinds

@simstrouble Adeline Braids//22.2k poly// requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr: London Locs // 16.2k Poly //requested by @thesirensims

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@daylifesims: Honey Sun Clover Dreadlocks v1// 10.8K Poly //requested by anon

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@daylifesims: Honey Sun Clover Dreadlocks v2// 10.9K Poly // Under hats // fully recolorable// 1 channel// requested by anon

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@ebonixsims: Monae Beadset V1//32.7K Poly! // Under hats // Recolorable beads 4 channels//no tips or root controls due to mesh//requested by anon

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@ebonixsims: Monae Beadset V2//30.5K Poly! // Under hats // Recolorable// 4 channels//no tips or root controls due to mesh//requested by anon

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@daylifesims :Honey Sun Alfalfa Braids v1// 10.1K Poly // Under hats // fully recolorable// 1 channel// requested by anon

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@daylifesims :Honey Sun Alfalfa Braids v2// 10.1K Poly // Under hats // fully recolorable// 1 channel// requested by anon

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@sheabuttyr: Daija Dreads V1 // 28.6k Poly //requested by anon.

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@sheabuttyr: Daija Dreads V2 // 30.8k Poly! //requested by anon

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@sheabuttyr: Paloma Passion Twist V1// 25k Poly//requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V2// 25k Poly//requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V3// 25k Poly//requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V4// 25k Poly//requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V5// 25kPoly //requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V6// 25kPoly //requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V7// 25kPoly //requested by @paigeywaigeyy

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@sheabuttyr:Paloma Passion Twist V8/ /25kPoly //requested by @paigeywaigeyy

[DOWNLOAD]

[cakeinthevoid]

Porcelain

yes minutes after my warning I am already posting a snippet. Context? What context? I decided on a quick blurb but if you genuinely have questions/want to know more—send an ask!!!!!

Zinc spends more time with Diana now that she seems cooperative. Diana tries to resist it but she’s so lonely and desperate. She grows to like Zinc, barring the fact that he’s a part of the crew. He tells her about his home and how Marc found him. Diana tells him about the landscape of her home, how it’s really a moon. About architecture and ceramics. She gets choked up. Zinc hesitatingly puts a hand on her shoulder. She tenses but doesn’t pull away. Zinc is paged away into a crew meeting. He leaves awkwardly. 

The next day, after Diana gets a batch of seeds to sprout, Zinc brings water in a ceramic bowl. It’s off white, well used with a chip and a few scratches in the glaze, but has an intricate pattern going around the rim. He gives it to her (to drink the water first, which she does in one sitting then regrets because she probably isn’t getting more) to inspect. She tells him it’s a reinforced porcelain and not pure clay. Then she does a deep dive into the ceramic quality and when it was likely made. She flips the bowl around and tracing the ridges with her fingers, getting super into it. 

“It’s… charming.” 

Diana thumbed the design. “If this was hand painted, it’s really well done,” she said, almost only to herself. “Everything is done in an even coat but—oh.” She stopped twisting the bowl and pointed at a barely noticeable break in the seam of the pattern looping around. She tilted it towards Zinc so he could see.

“What is it?” He leaned in to inspect. 

“Misprint. It wasn’t painted; it was stamped. That explains the colour and thinness,” she muttered.

Zinc looked up at her in awe. “You can tell all of that just from looking at it?” 

Diana averted her gaze, dropping it back to her hands that were fidgeting with the bowl. “It’s just educated guesswork. I work with clay.” She paused, turning the bowl so that the glaze could catch the light. “Worked with, I guess. The glaze seems kind of cheap, too,” she added before holding out the bowl. 

“What?” 

“Aren’t you going to take it back?” 

“Oh. Um,” he fidgeted. “You can—if you like it, you can keep it.” 

Diana lowered her arm. “Where would I keep it?” She said after a beat. “Just take it,” she said forcefully, placing the bowl on the floor with care and turning away. 

“Diana—“

“Don’t,” she snapped. “Just… don’t,” she whispered. She pulled away and settled by the wall in such a way that the chain linked above rested on the ground to her right, between her and Zinc. 

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. 

Diana said nothing, keeping her back to Zinc, despite the voice in her head screaming to turn around.

“...If you keep… cooperating… Marc will probably let you off the chain, you know.” Diana tensed. “You could be a part of our crew.” 

“What makes you think I’d want that?” She spat, still refusing to look at him. “What makes you think that the moment I’m free, I wouldn’t get the hell off this prison?” 

Zinc gasped. “Don’t say that!” 

She finally looked at him over her shoulder and chuckled humourlessly. “Or what? I can’t believe…” she trailed off as she turned away again.

His gaze darkened. “You know if she hears you talk like that you’ll be stuck like this.” Zinc shook his head and sighed, “I don’t understand what would be so bad if you just joined us.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said darkly.

Zinc looked up, exasperated. “Yeah, I think I have some idea. You think I’m oblivious to what’s going on? You already told me what happened to your moon. Marc told the whole crew about the deal.” His voice quieted. “And… I run the security systems on the ship… I’ve seen the cameras.” 

Diana was mortified to feel ashamed, and tried to drown out that burning emotion with a wave of fury. 

“You—” 

“Your home is gone. At least here, you could have a new life. It really isn't so bad, and maybe you could even go off the ship someday and help Zeyver get plants or even work with clay again! You could have real friends here. Family, even.”

Diana whipped around. Zinc flinched back at her eyes, bright with tears. 

“How dare you?” She started in a raspy voice. “My home isn’t gone and my family isn’t—they’re not—my real friends aren’t—” her voice broke off into a sob. She dropped her head into shaking hands, gasping between sobs. It hurt because he was right, she thought. She was well and truly alone. 

Her breathing hitched, body tensing at the sensation of something wrapping around her. 

Zinc was hugging her. 

She hated it. Hated him. She wanted him to let go. 

She was desperate. Pathetic.

Diana tried to relax into the hug but, “You knew…” she sobbed. 

“I voted against it, at first," he said into her hair. "But then… I didn’t know. I should’ve gone with instinct.” 

“You knew…” she repeated, again and again. 

“Shh,” he soothed, running a hand down her back. It felt like bugs were crawling after his hand. 

Despite all the noise in her head, she leaned into his touch.

She was aware of every point of contact—it felt like knives, even though he was barely touching her. She couldn’t remember when was the last time someone held her without throwing a punch afterwards. The thought tightened the coil in her stomach. 

Zinc was beginning to shake. Or, more likely, she was.

“Are you okay? Sorry, stupid question—” he began to pull away. 

“No—” Diana choked out, and promptly clicked her mouth shut, face aflame. Her damaged hand was gripping his sleeve. Zinc’s eyes dropped to it and she let go as though it too was aflame. 

Oh, she was truly pathetic now. Begging for a hit—

“You want me to… hug you?” It was a statement phrased like a question, but Diana only clenched her jaw tighter, willing the tears in her eyes to stop streaming, willing her body to stop begging for touch and distance at the same time—willing herself to stop being difficult. 

“Is that a no?” He asked slowly. Diana stayed still. His eyes scanned her and she suddenly felt much too exposed, too vulnerable. 

Gently, he raised the arm she was gripping moments earlier. Her eyes darted to it and he stopped. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask before,” he said, looking at her face even though her eyes were pinned on his hand. “I wasn’t—I wasn’t trying to make you cry and I didn’t know what to do.” He tilted his head slightly. “Did you like it?” 

No, she wanted to say. She hated it and hated him. 

She was beginning to hate herself. She wanted comfort, even if it was from the very people who held her like a beast. 

But she couldn’t say yes, because his touch felt like bugs crawling and knives pressing. It felt like the moments between Amsok’s punches, except then, she knew she would be hit. 

I am truly broken now, she thought and felt her eyes well with more tears. 

Zinc’s own eyes widened, settling into a look of worry. “I’m going to hug you now. If you say no, I’ll stop, okay?” 

Diana wanted to move, to at least nod, or even shake her head, but was terrified to realize she couldn’t move. Her muscles locked and she could only close her eyes as she saw Zinc hesitatingly lean in. 

She shuddered as his arms wrapped around her, landing like moths. 

He didn’t rub her back. He stayed as still as though she were made of glass and wouldn't risk breaking her. She felt his breath on her shoulder. It could have been peaceful. 

Diana could only tolerate it for a couple of minutes. Zinc’s arms gradually felt as though they were growing tighter and his breathing was getting too loud and it’s been too long since—she jerked her head to the side. 

“Di—”

“No,” she said. “No no no—” 

Zinc let go instantly. “Okay! Hey, it’s okay.” He raised his hands in a placating gesture. 

She took a deep breath, ignoring how much colder she suddenly felt. She held her left hand tightly with her right hand, focussing on the pain radiating through the metal, up her arm instead. She exhaled sharply through her nose and shut her eyes as fire flamed through her blood. She kept the pressure until her heart stopped racing.  

Diana opened her eyes, blinking to clear her vision, and was startled to see Zinc still sitting in front of her. 

“Why—” she cleared her throat, “—why are you still here?” 

Zinc shifted self-consciously. “To… make sure you were okay.” 

Diana took in a long breath. “Don’t say that,” she said at length. 

He frowned. She sighed again. 

Diana broke the silence when neither spoke for a minute. 

“What do you want from me?” She whispered. 

“Nothing,” he answered immediately, but she just shook her head. 

Before Diana could disagree, Zinc’s communicator began to buzz and flash. He jumped up, stuttered out an apology for startling her again and another for having to leave so abruptly, and ran down the far hall. 

Alone in the main cabin, Diana breathed a sigh of relief. Slowly, the tension bled out of her muscles and she curled up on the floor, spent. It wasn’t long before the darkness of the cabin and hum of the core lulled her to sleep.

~~~

Thanks for reading :))

[gloomwitchwrites]

His teammates call you because he isn't handling the break up well.

I'm gonna be honest, Anon. I went a more humorous route with this (but some angst in there too because why not!) I'm just imagining all of them being completely pathetic and the one calling is on the phone like "come get your man please." So, with that being said, I hope you enjoy this!

Presented in four double drabbles.

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, some angst, established relationship, breakups. brief humor

Word Count: 800

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John Price

“You have two minutes,” you say immediately after answering your phone.

“You need to call him,” comes Simon’s gruff voice on the other end.

You’ve only met Simon a handful of times, but he’s always been your favorite of John’s team. He has consistently treated you with kindness and respect, and he never oversteps boundaries.

“Why?” you ask, glancing at your nails, pretending you don’t care.

“He fucking misses you.”

“That’s not enough of a reason,” you reply.

It isn’t. Not really. Even if your heart aches and your stomach flips from hearing it.

“Captain isn’t taking the breakup well.”

You want to say that you aren’t either, even though you’re the one who ended things. In reality, you miss John. It’s agonizing.

“And?” you ask, trying to hide the slight crack in your voice.

“He has us running laps around the fucking track, love. Haven’t done that since I was a grunt who couldn’t properly tie his boot laces.”

You sigh. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”

“Yes.” Simon’s response is immediate.

Rubbing your temple, you decide to take a leap. It wouldn’t hurt to talk. Not really. “Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

“Thank fuck,” he breathes.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

“This is absurd,” you mutter, rubbing the middle of your brow, irritation building in the back of your head.

“Just give us a few minutes,” comes Captain Price’s voice. It’s Kyle’s boss, but he’s not the only one on the phone.

“Oh, aye. Hear us out.” Soap is there, too.

For all you know, Ghost is lingering on the call, a silent entity listening in but not saying anything.

“Why? Give me a reason?”

“Kyle misses you,” says Price.

“He loves you, lass.”

This isn’t new information. You’re aware of how Kyle feels but that doesn’t change things. The two of you are not together anymore. He needs to move on.

“He’s not handling the breakup well.” This time it’s Ghost. The silent man speaks.

“What do you want me to do,” you sigh.

“Talk to him,” says Price.

“No.”

Your phone buzzes and you hold it away from your ear. It’s a text from Price. You click on it, revealing a photo.

It’s Kyle. He’s curled up in his bed in the barracks, clutching a teddy bear he won you at a carnival on your first date.

“We can come get you,” says Price.

“Fine. I’ll talk to him.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

“I’m sorry, John. But you shouldn’t have called. I don’t want to hear it.”

There is a deep sigh on the other end of the phone. You respect Captain John Price. The few times you’ve met him, he’d been pleasant, and he was always the first one to greet you whenever you visited Johnny on base.

“I understand that you broke it off with him.”

“John—”

“Listen. Please.”

He genuinely sounds concerned, and that gives you pause.

It’s not like you and Johnny ended things on bad terms. His life is busy. It’s dangerous. You just don’t fit in it, and the stress of never knowing when or if he’s going to come home is something far to difficult a thing to carry with you.

“He’s been struggling. Had to corner him in my office to get him to talk. He’s really hurting.”

You swallow. Lick your lips. “Why are you calling me, John?”

“I want you to talk to him.”

“John—”

“Soap is currently facedown in his bed in the barracks. Sulking.”

“Okay. I’ll talk to him.”

“In person,” says John. It sounds like a command. Not an ask.

“Fine, John,” you reply, grabbing your car keys.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You need to talk to him. Simon is a bloody mess.”

“He’s fine, Johnny. He’ll get over. There was no reason for you to call me.”

Johnny snorts on the other end. “You don’t think so? I thought he was going to crush a new recruit’s skull in this morning.”

You roll your eyes. “I’m not interested in talking with Simon right now.”

Is it really a breakup? No. Not really. More like a separation. Simon has your whole heart, but he’s stubborn and cold. His shell is difficult to crack.

“That’s too bad. Because I’m here.”

“You’re—what?”

“Aye. Walking up to your front door right now.”

You blink. Aghast. “John MacTavish you better not—”

There is a sharp series of knocks at your front door. “You gotta be fucking kidding me,” you mutter.

Growling, you storm to the front door, phone still pressed to your ear. You unlatch the deadbolt and yank the door open. Johnny is standing on the other side, his phone also held to his ear. He gives you his biggest grin.

You want to smack it right off his face.

“What are you doing?”

Johnny ends the call. “I’m taking you to Simon.”

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