#haze romero

[meakersneakers]

In light of having nothing interesting to post, please take these redraws.

[giuseppe-yuki]

fashionista

zhou guanyu x teacup pig shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: none :)

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: you get a new outfit (ft. a trip to the convenience store)

pictures credits from pinterest :)

as one of the unofficial fashion moguls in the paddock, it was your job to serve face whenever you appeared in the paddock. the sound of paparazzi camera shutters clicking were almost always a sure sign that you were near. 

today, you entered the paddock hand-in-hand with your boyfriend zhou. he, of course, was dressed to the nines next to you. your baggy parachute pants paired with a tight cutout top and zhou’s baggy jeans with an almost see-through mesh top looked like the pinnacle of haute couture streetwear. 

you smile directly at the cameras following you both, sending a small wave at a man dutifully taking what looked to be at least twenty pictures of you per second. continuing down the paddock, you stop a few times in order for zhou to sign a few pieces of merch. you adjust your slim sunglasses on the bridge of your nose to hide your eyes from the blazing hot texas sun. as you pass the vcarb motorhome, you spot daniel ricciardo dressed in a cowboy outfit. he clicks his tongue and sends finger guns to you and zhou when you walk by.

zhou leans towards you and whispers into your ear, “baby, we should have dressed more like that, for cota!” 

you turn to face him, wrinkling your nose. “no way am i ditching my outfit for cowboy boots and a cowboy hat, zhou!” you tilt your head, looking at him with a questioning look. “i mean, would you rather wear that or the outfit that marc jacobs sent you tomorrow?”

he sends you a chagrin smile. “point proven, i guess.”

before you could continue your walk, a snow white samoyed bolts out the mercedes motorhome next door. it sniffs zhou twice before plopping itself in down. lewis runs out of the motorhome a second later, skidding to a stop next to the dog. 

“holy cow, you need to calm down,” he says pointedly to the dog. he bends, hand on his knees, panting. “i’m getting old, and i swear im not going to be able to catch you anymore!”

the dog shoots lewis a look, as if rolling its eyes. lewis looks up, as if just noticing you two standing if front of him. 

“well, if it isn’t the best dressed couple on the grid,” he says, chuckling. he scans both of you up and down. “nice outfits, by the way! i think you two are possibly the only people that can outdress me.” 

“thanks!” zhou replies. “i honestly think you are still the undisputed fashion icon of the paddock, though.” 

you nod, agreeing. 

“why thanks!” lewis says, beaming. he then glances at his watch, and frowns. “oh shit,” he says, “i think fp1 is starting soon! i gotta go. you guys should probably run to the garages too.” he waves at you both and starts sprinting away, samoyed at his side.

“you ready to go?” your boyfriend asks, smiling at you. 

you take a second to fix your sunglasses again, and give him a quick nod. zhou grabs your manicured hand, and you both dash towards the kick sauber garage.

“omg, wait for me!” your boyfriend shouts, hands still on the driver’s wheel. but, you had already leaped out of the barely stopped alfa romero 33 stradale, clutching your snakeskin birkin.

the sun had already set in the texas sky, painting everything with a dark blue haze, including the white car that you had just jumped out of. by the time zhou had turned off the engine and hopped out of the car, you were already in front of the convenience store, giddy with excitement. he lightly jogs to you, briefly turning his body to lock the alfa romero with the car key lob. you press a light kiss on his cheek when he arrives next to you. 

after getting a pretty good result in both fp1 and fp2, you had promised zhou that you would both go on a run store, pick out a ton of snacks, then go back to the hotel to watch a movie and possibly “celebrate,” if you get my drift. unfortunately, after multiple meetings and an unplanned dinner with valtteri, it was too late to go to any normal store, so the next best choice was the convenience store that was open 24 hours. 

you grab his hand and run into the store, dragging zhou behind you. you walk past the candy aisle, hot dog warmers, and stunned cashier, arriving at the chips aisle. the colorful packages jump out at you, advertising for you to “face the intensity” or warning you that it was “dangerously cheesy.” 

“which one should should we choose, zhou?” you ask, turning to him. he too, is looking through the wide variety of snacks in front of him. 

after a few seconds of pondering, a grin spreads across his face. “my trainer is probably going to kill me, but all of them!” 

after fetching a big basket from the front of the store, you and zhou fill it to the brim with different kinds of chips. next, you walk over to the drinks area. both of you choose your favorite drinks, all the while giggling at the blue printed pictures of checo and max on the redbull cans on the shelf. 

your boyfriend walks over the cashier counter with the basket with the snack and is about to start checking out, when you spot the slurpee machine in the corner of the store. 

“zhou, come look! they have the famed slurpees here!” you exclaim, pointing at the thrumming machines stirring brightly colored concoctions. 

“i know we have a few drinks in the cart, but we should totally get some,” he says, looking at the bright letters spelling out SLURPEE.

you nod in agreement, and grab a cup from the row of cup bottoms sticking out from under the counter. when you hold up a cup, your eyes grow the size of saucers. “there is no fucking way. this cup holds fucking 22oz of liquid and it is only the second largest size there is!” you cry. you look next to you, and sure enough, zhou is holding a cup that says MEGA on the side that holds 40oz of liquid. he laughs at your reaction, but starts laughing even harder when he spots another cup to the right of you. it has bubble lettering spelling out DOUBLE GULP on the side, and it holds a whopping 50oz of liquid. 

after a laughing fit and a slurpee overflow mishap, you both walk to the counter to check out all your snacks. 

the cashier, still stunned, slowly scans the mountain of snacks next to him. gathering up his courage, he looks at the two of you shyly. “you’re zhou guanyu and you’re his girlfriend, right? i’m a really big fan of you both and i always love your paddock outfits.” 

zhou thanks the cashier, and you give him a warm smile in appreciation. 

after bagging the snacks, you and zhou load everything into the trunk of the alfa romero. it looks out of place next to the few battered chevy pickup trucks still in the lot at the dead of night. instead of climbing into the car after,  you and zhou take your giant slurpees and a few bag of snacks and sit on the edge of the sidewalk. from an outsider walking by, you both looked like a typical couple, (albeit very fashionably dressed one at that) with zhou’s arm around you and your head on his shoulders. 

later, when your tongues are stained with blue and you brush chip crumbs off of your baggy parachute pants, you find yourself looking at the plaza opposite of the convenience store. zhou, strolling back to you from throwing away the empty chip bags and melted slurpees, nudges your shoulder.

“watcha looking at?” 

you gesture with your head towards the store on the other side of the street, where a sign blares in bright red, “Pet Shop.” 

he shoots you a smile tinted with blue food coloring and takes your hand in his.

right as you enter, you are pulled by zhou into a random aisle. 

“wha-?” you splutter out as he continues to pull you down the walkway. your voice echoes throughout the deserted shop. that’s when you notice the products around you. pet clothes. you recognize his intent immediately. “absolutely not, baby,” you declare disgustedly, pulling against his grip. “those cheap costumes are not going an inch near me.”

“come on,” zhou says, trying to reason with you. “it’s not that bad!” 

he points to a little cowboy outfit on the sea of costumes, that has a little red hat, blue bandana along with four little cowboy booties. “perfect for cota, no?” 

you glare at him.

you find yourself in front of a horde of photographers and camera people the next morning when you arrive in the paddock. zhou adjusts you in his arms, tilting the red cowboy hat in a fashionable way and tightening the bandana on your neck while also smoothing down his brown leather jacket. you let out an oink as a sign of appreciation. you know what, you think contently, this outfit is starting to grow on me.

a reporter, holding a mic out, approaches you both. “martin brundle, for sky sports. excellent drive yesterday, for fp1 and fp2 yesterday, zhou. also, you and your erm- teacup pig here, fantastic outfits. may i ask, who is the designer behind her outfit for today? is it perhaps ralph lauren? or tom ford?"

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @madkohi @ralshatos @heartsforleclerc

[madame-fear]

𐙚 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒.

part one | part two.

ೀ amira speaks! : pretty much self-indulgent. kinda based on the song “shameless” by camila cabello. for some reason,, i adore the idea of older brother!Matías being your emotional support coach AHSHDJK ˗ˏˋ ꒰ summary : jealousy can terribly fog your clarity, becoming oblivious to the way your best friend — who also happens to be your crush — feels about you. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ word count : 2.3k.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ genre : friends to lovers, fluff, a bit of oblivious mutual pining. ˗ˏˋ ꒰ pairing : Francisco Romero x Recalt!Reader. ( this part is mostly about Matías encouraging you to talk to Fran about your feelings lmao )

If there was one particular thing you were undoubtedly good at, was at gnawing your own mind continously with jealousy.

Jealousy was the worst of your enemies— one you knew well, and dreaded the most. With the sappy feelings that appeared the moment you had a new crush, along came the bitterness jealousy and insecurity. At the slightest situation where you felt as if you were about to lose an opportunity with your new crush, jealousy immediatly took a toll on you.

It didn’t feel easy to deal with it, leading you to avoid every situation that could potentially be overwhelming— but sometimes, it was inevitable to be faced with those situations that piqued the familiar sensation of bitterness.

Gods, now you wondered why you had decided to go to a big party with Fran instead of doing something else together? But it wasn’t like you could be in control of every single situation surrounding both of you, or even control your own emotions, anyways.

You met Fran the very first time you went to visit your older brother, Matías, in the filming set of “La Sociedad de la Nieve”. You had met all of your brother’s cast mates, but the blonde haired Argentine was the one you clicked the most with— his endearing, loving & charismatic personality was captivating, and it didn’t take long until he became your closest best friend... And your crush, too.

Everyone around you noticed the intense crush you had on Fran. Matías particularly always teased you by mentioning that you were quite blatant with your feelings, and while you tried to dismiss his sayings, it was true— it was as if you nearly had heart eyes for the blonde, giggling and smiling to yourself at the slightest glimpse you caught of him.

Your brother insisted that Fran felt the same way towards you, that it was more than obvious he was enamoured with you, but you vehemently denied it. The idea of him reciprocating your feelings seemed impossible, and with each passing day, the thought of it was even more farfetched.

Now, you felt at the brink of losing your shit. The only thing that constantly replayed on your mind was the — practically abrupt — showcase of emotions you had after seeing Fran talking closely and laughing with another girl at a party you both attended, only to then lie about not feeling quite well, and dragging him out of there with you.

Ever since, you couldn’t get the image of him and another girl out of your mind, and you had barely texted him. The rational portion of your mind argued that the interaction between them meant nothing; it was just a friendly, casual conversation. Besides, Fran could befriend and talk with whomever he desired— you shouldn’t even be getting in the way.

But the irrational portion of your mind, which seemed to win a greater part of your thoughts, overwhelmed you with the idea of him fancying someone else, feeling as if the slight opportunity you had to be with him slipped away from your hands.

Faint breeze constantly hit against your features. Quietly, you sat on a chair you placed in the balcony of your apartment, having fixed your gaze on the sky that contained a rich orange tone mixed with a rosy haze. The silence of the moment while you drowned in your own thoughts was suddenly interrupted when you heard your phone ringing on your pocket.

Taking the phone out of your pocket, staring quickly at the screen, you saw your brother calling you. Most of the time you texted each other, only calling or getting called if there was an emergency, or anything urgent at all. “Yes?” you picked up the call, awaiting him to speak— you supposed something must’ve happened for him to call you out of nowhere.

Brief silence loomed from the other side of the line.

“Code Blondie,” for some reason, you could almost hear him smiling while speaking. Code Blondie was the code you both agreed you’d use to start a conversation about Fran, or refer to him discreetly in public. It was a silly little thing you had always done with your brother, as he was the one you gushed about your crushes with, and the one you vented to about your heartbreaks.

Inhaling deeply,, you then released a loud sigh. The bitter, almost poisonous feeling of your own thoughts dreadfully consumming you had returned, after fading away for several seconds. The mere mention of anything related to him bought you back to how you had been feelings the previous days, and at the current moment. You furrowed your eyebrows, and before you could even respond, he continued.

“Somebody’s been asking for you,” Matías was definitely smiling to himself while talking from the other side of the line. “Your boyfriend seemed almost desperate. He said he was concerned about you.” you placed your arm on the armholder of the chair, using your fist to hold your face.

You thought you had been behaving as normal as you could with Fran, because for some reason, you could barely be with, or talk to him without remembering what you saw, or even getting your toxic feelings hauntingly coming back to you. You weren’t mad at Fran, were you? You didn’t even know why you would be mad at him... You should be mad at yourself for acting this way. One thing you knew, was that you felt confused about everything.

“What... What do you mean, concerned about me?” you inquired, remaining with your eyebrows furrowed. “Matías, what did he tell you?” a scoff was heard coming from your brother. You felt that awaiting for his response was an eternity— the moment itself felt like an eternity.

While you were still troubled yourself at the hands of your own bitter jealousy, you did feel worried about having accidentally made Fran feel bad without him even knowing what he did for you to react this way. Perhaps you hadn’t been so discreet, after all.

“Fran told me, he was afraid you might be angry at him and asked how you had been doing... For some reason?” instead of having been debating to yourself whether or not to tell your brother about this, you should’ve done it straight away, and you would surely have avoided yourself a great deal of this upcoming conversation. You always told Matías literally everything, but you hadn’t told him about this moment.

“Now I need to know, what the fuck happened between the two of you? I didn’t even know what to answer him!” he asked in a teasing manner, “You didn’t tell me about this one, sis.” no, you hadn’t. All you could do, was pinch the bridge of your nose as you closed your eyes. Sooner or later, you would have to get your shit together and toss your own emotions through the window as well.

You wouldn’t have expected Fran to ask your brother about you, and to think you were angry at him. If anything, you were only angry at yourself for acting in such a childish way. Not only you dragged him out of that party with the excuse that you weren’t feeling well, but also fell practically silent the entire ride back to your home, and dismissed any help he offered. Fuck— jealousy ruined you.

“No, I didn’t. I’ve been gnawing my own mind with stupid little thoughts and forgot to tell you.” you replied honestly, rubbing your face out of frustration, before allowing the weight of your head to fall against your palm. “Oh God, this situation is so stupid— but remember the other day, that I told you that I was going out with him to a party?” Matías hummed in response, allowing you to continue.

“Well... To summarise it, I lost him amidst the crowd at one moment, and when I found him, he was talking closely and laughing with another girl...” your words drifted off for a second, “I got jealous, so I told him that I wanted to go home because I wasn’t feeling well and dragged him away with me,” now that you told Mati about the situation, you felt slightly embarrassed about your abrupt display of emotions over something so small and silly.

“I kind of fell silent the entire ride back home, and... barely spoke to him ever since, because I can’t help but constantly think about him being with another girl.” as soon as you finished explaining, you nibbled your lower lip anxiously. No matter how silly the situation was, you found comfort everytime you remembered that your brother was sort of your emotional support coach.

Matías scoffed after you finished talking. Gods, you were oblivious.

“Sos re boluda mal, vos.” you were used to having Matías call you like that playfully. You teasingly called him “boludo” and “pelotudo”, and instead, he called you the same way. In response, you rolled your eyes. “Seriously, how oblivious can you be about it?” his tone seemed a bit more serious, making you attentively listen to him, curiously.

“Can’t you see how enamoured he is for you? Woman, he stares at you with heart eyes— and you got jealous because he spoke with another girl for a short while?” you shook your head, muttering a soft “no” under your breath. Perhaps Matías was trying to make you feel less bad, but the idea of Fran reciprocating your feelings didn’t fit in your head— you were in a vehement denial.

“Mati, no. I don’t think Fran sees me that way—” before you could continue objecting against his statements, Matías interrupted you. “My God, you are blind. EVERYONE from the set knows, and can see, that he looks like a little schoolgirl in love whenever you’re around.” you fell silent, as a rosy haze spread across your cheeks. “We tease him all the time about you. Somehow, Fran manages to bring you up in every possible conversation topic we have with him.”

The only thing you could do, was remain silent as he spoke. Matías never lied to you about a single thing— and you doubted he would be lying to you about this particular situation, which was something you knew you were wholeheartedly serious about. Besides, he knew what he was talking about. Hearing him talk about this felt enlightening, in a way— the mental fog blinding your clarity fading away.

“Ask any of the other boys about this, and they will tell you the exact same thing I’m telling you now.” he continued, “The man smiles to himself and becomes flustered at the slightest mention about you, or glimpse of you!” it truly was unbelievable how oblivious you were to the situation.

“Besides, can’t you see how painfully clingy Fran is witu you? I once teased him by telling him that I would kick his ass if he tried anything funny with you. He’s an idiot who won’t stop talking about you, and fixes his stare on you whenever you’re near.” Matías scoffed, making you helplessly smile to yourself.

“You nearly had him crawling on his hands and knees, all afraid of having made you upset— and you are beating yourself wondering if he feels the same?” maybe your brother was right. Your brain had a thing to make obvious things escape from you. A sigh of relief spurred from your lips, feeling a burden on your back immediatly disappear. “I think you might be right, Mati. But what do I even do now?”

“Of course I’m right. I always am.” a cocky piece of shit, he was— but a good emotional coach, and brother, for sure. “What you’re going to do now, is you are going to hang up on me, and you will send Fran a message immediatly telling him you want to see him.” you sighed, shaking your head. How would you do that? It felt terribly awkward to send him a message out of nowhere, telling him you wanted to see him.

“And say what, exactly? “Sorry for being distant, I felt jealous because you slightly paid attention to another girl that wasn’t me?””

“Yes.”

“No! Matías, I can’t do that—”

“Shut up, yes you can. Say it just like that, or find a polite way of doing it, whatever.” you wished you could be as shameless as your brother was. “Don’t fret too much, Fran will probably find it endearing.” before being able to protest about anything, he continued to speak. “Anyways, I already told him to send you a message because you were free today and wanted to meet with him, so he surely beat you to it already.”

“You fucking did what?!—”

“Yeah, I did. Bye, good luck, and let me know how it goes!” the phone clicked. He hung up before you could threaten to strangle him.

As a soft click sound was heard from the phone line, you took your device off your ear. You adored your brother to no end, he always knew how to motivate you to do things you were afraid of doing— but this time, you felt as if you had been pushed right into confronting Fran about your feelings.

The phone vibrated on your hand. You had new text messages.

Unlocking your phone, you scrolled downwards on the screen to check all the notifications you had. And just like Matías had predicted, you had three new messages from Fran. The pounding of your heartbeat increased abruptly, almost as if you could spit your heart right out from your mouth.

Frani 🧚‍♂️💗: gooordiiiis Frani 🧚‍♂️💗: are you free right now? Frani 🧚‍♂️💗: Mati said you were, and I would like to spend some time with you 💘

Fuck. If you could teletransport to where youe brother was, you would repeatedly, and very violently, hit him in the face with at least a pillow for pushing you into this situation. You couldn’t avoid the blonde haired Argentine for ever, and why were you avoiding him for something related to your own feelings, anyways?

But, considering all the things your brother had just told you, and him being the person you trusted the most— perhaps, this was your opportunity to free yourself from all the things picking on your mind. And hopefully, they would go as planned.

◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ ` taglist .ᐟ

@luceracastro @castawaycherry @creative-heart @cyliarys-starlight @deepinsideyourbeing @chiquititamia @koiibiito @lastflowrr

[niaking]

My books are on sale for pride season. Usually $20 each, you can get all three volumes of Queer & Trans Artists of Color for only $50 (and free shipping) until the end of June. These books include interviews with Janet Mock, Julio Salgado, Vivek Shraya and more! Get the discount here. Full listing of interviewees below the break.

VOLUME ONE (2014) ​CO-EDITED BY TERRA MIKALSON & JESSICA GLENNON-ZUKOFF

Mixed-race queer art activist Nia King left a full-time job in an effort to center her life around making art. Grappling with questions of purpose, survival, and compromise, she started a podcast called We Want the Airwaves in order to pick the brains of fellow queer and trans artists of color about their work, their lives, and “making it” - both in terms of success and in terms of survival.

In this collection of interviews, Nia discusses fat burlesque with MAGNOLIAH BLACK, queer fashion with KIAM MARCELO JUNIO, interning at Playboy with JANET MOCK, dating gay Latino Republicans with JULIO SALGADO, intellectual hazing with KORTNEY RYAN ZIEGLER, gay gentrification with VAN BINFA, getting a book deal with VIRGIE TOVAR, the politics of black drag with MICIA MOSELY, evading deportation with YOSIMAR REYES, weird science with RYKA AOKI, gay public sex in Africa with NICK MWALUKO, thin privilege with FABIAN ROMERO, the tyranny of “self-care” with LOVEMME CORAZÓN, “selling out” with MISS PERSIA and DADDIE$ PLA$TIK, the self-employed art-activist hustle with LEAH LAKSHMI PIEPZNA-SAMARASINHA, and much, much more. Buy book one here.

VOLUME TWO (2016) ​CO-EDITED BY ELENA ROSE

Building on the groundbreaking first volume, Queer and Trans Artists of Color: Stories of Some of Our Lives, Nia King is back with a second archive of interviews from her podcast We Want the Airwaves. She maintains her signature frankness as an interviewer while seeking advice on surviving capitalism from creative folks who often find their labor devalued.

In this collection of interviews, Nia discusses biphobia in gay men’s communities with JUBA KALAMKA, helping border-crossers find water in the desert with MICHA CÁRDENAS, trying to preserve Indigenous languages through painting with GRACE ROSARIO PERKINS, revolutionary monster stories with ELENA ROSE, using textiles to protest police violence with INDIRA ALLEGRA, trying to respectfully reclaim one’s own culture with AMIR RABIYAH, taking on punk racism with MIMI THI NGUYEN, the imminent trans women of color world takeover with LEXI ADSIT, queer life in WWII Japanese American incarceration camps with TINA TAKEMOTO, hip-hop and Black Nationalism with AJUAN MANCE, making music in exile with MARTÍN SORRONDEGUY, issue-based versus identity-based organizing with TRISH SALAH, ten years of curating and touring with the QTPOC arts organization Mangos With Chili with CHERRY GALETTE, raising awareness about gentrification through games with MATTIE BRICE, self-publishing versus working with a small press with VIVEK SHREYA, and the colonial nature of journalism school with KILEY MAY. The conversation continues. Buy book two here.

VOLUME THREE (2019) ​CO-EDITED BY MALIHA AHMED

Is it possible to make art and make rent without compromising your values? Nia King set out to answer this question when she started We Want the Airwaves podcast in 2013. In her Queer & Trans Artists of Color book series, Nia collects podcast interviews — with Black, Latinx, Asian, Middle Eastern and Indigenous LGBTQ writers, musicians and visual artists — which feature both incredible storytelling and practical advice.

In the latest installment of the Queer & Trans Artists of Color series, Nia discusses performing at the White House with VENUS SELENITE, the global nature of colorism with KAMAL AL-SOLAYLEE, writing for Marvel Comics with GABBY RIVERA, using lies to tell unspeakable truths with KAI CHENG THOM, Black mental health with ANTHONY J. WILLIAMS, curating diverse anthologies with JOAMETTE GIL, growing up trans in rural Idaho with MEY RUDE, covering crime as a baby-faced reporter with SAM LEVIN, feminist approaches to journalism with SARAH LUBY BURKE, documenting Black punk history with OSA ATOE, crossing color lines with QWO-LI DRISKILL, fat hairy brown goddesses with PARADISE KHANMALEK, the usefulness of anger with JIA QING WILSON-YANG, transitioning as death and rebirth with ARIELLE TWIST, surviving homelessness and touring the world with STAR AMERASU and much, much more. Buy book three here.

[khelinski]

A slight blue haze appeared in the eastern sky. The mall stood silently in the impending dawn, mute to the disaster that had taken place within its walls that night.

George A. Romero

[vileintcnt]

muse masterlist

this is going to be a huge post I'll add to as muses change where I just have a little bit about each muse and a few very generic plot ideas/concepts I have for each one that can be tweaked/built upon. you'll find them under the cut! :)

cassidy bardot ; influencer, vixen, disloyal, party girl, obnoxious, bitchy -> meet her match, give me cat and mouse, give me 'try not to fall in love', give me dad's employee, give me older married men

blaire bardot ; ice skater, strong-minded, competitive, innocent -> give me hockey players(!!), give me 'highest bidder gets a date', give me rivalry, give me smug assholes who she'd HATE, give me enemies to lovers, give me competitors who set off her bicuriosity

nola dempsey ; erotic novelist, charismatic, assertive, aloof -> tbc.

lana gilbert ; supermodel, party girl, luxurious, spoilt, dinner parties, vacations in the hamptons -> give me wild rich people truth or dare, give me billionaire sugar daddies, give me mile high club, give me married men, give me country club employees

natalie abbot ; trophy wife, lonely, hopeless romantic, husband-loathing -> give me harrison/charlotte's friends hitting on her, give me her trying to find her youth in a nightclub and your muse hitting on her, give me flashback threads, give me gala events, give me cheating on her husband

luxe farrow ; scream queen, charismatic, quick-witted, ruthless -> give me on set sexual tension, give me casting call, give me celebrity couples, give me SECRET celebrity couples

remi windsor ; professional ballerina, calculated, competitive, bored easily, bratty, intelligent -> give me all the older men, exclusively, give me married husbands, give me professors, give me politicians, give me parents friends, give me creeps/stalkers

valentina ferreira ; socialite, bitch, manipulative, gaslighter, troublemaker -> give me like sorority girl hazing plots, give me secretly in love with her best friend, give me cocky frat bros, give me sk8r boy

vivian greer ; investigative journalist. hardheaded, defensive, determined -> tbc.

charlotte abbot ; debutante. ditsy, flirtatious, oblivious, materialistic -> I want older men taking advantage of how airhead she is oop, bimbofication, give me date auctions, give me metalhead boys who know how to F U C K lmfao

brandy vega ; magazine director. impatient, confident, forward, dominant -> gimme interns that are in love with her, give me affairs with younger men, give me flings abroad

sawyer devlin ; farmers daughter. naive, innocent, adventurous, bashful -> i want city boys/girls to turn her life inside out, i want sneaking off the farm to go to a dive bar and meet older men, i want farm hands/working tourists flirting with her and making her all blushy and nervous, i want priests testing her faith, i want cute slowburn with the muse who works the coffeeshop she visits when her and her dad run the farmers market

luz montoya ; influencer. flirtatious, wildchild, materialistic -> tbc.

billie buffet ; ranch hand. cocky, sarcastic, wild, hands-on, impatient -> city boys/girls who have no idea how to work on a ranch being teased by billie, billie taking them to the nearest dive bar, lets fuck in the back of this random guys pickup at the bar vibes, sneaking around on the ranch, come with me i know a spot vibes

margot fletcher ; guitarist. manipulative, dorky, sarcastic, stoner -> omg I want moms give me all of the moms, I want margot convincing mothers that they’re goddesses who should leave their husbands, give me doting fans that she can seduce, give me best friends that fall into margot’s arms when their boyfriends are mean

layla fontaine ; singer. sultry, mysterious, chic, inherently sad, flirtatious, wise -> give me older male music producers that she immediately falls in love with, give me older men she can call daddy and write songs about, give me rockstars she would have grown up listening to that she can do drugs with now she’s famous

bowie romero ; rockstars daughter. angry, party girl, defensive, toxic, hopeless romantic -> I want all of the toxic relationships, give me Bowie smashing plates above their head give me flirting with other people in front of each other to piss each other off, give me ripping the hair out of any girl who dares look at her partner, give me best friends who like to talk shit about boys and then go down on each other

dixie gallagher ; waitress/illustrator. sarcastic, melancholy, irritable -> tbc.

martha rossi ; groupie. obsessive, shy, virginal, adventurous, soft -> okay I rlly want rockstars taking advantage of this sweet thing, give me her being handed her first joint/line, give me why don’t you come join me on the tour bus vibes, give me secret relationships give me her being sheltered from the press and growing more and more confident

penelope quinn ; singer. wild, upfront, party girl, suggestive, daring -> i want her to ruin the lives of sweet sensitive muses, give me all of the innocence for her corruption, give me nervous babbling as she sits on their lap give me all of the shy innocent shit, like peaches WILL talk your muses through it

claudia jagger ; tattoo artist/succubus+vampire au. creepy, seductive, hyper-sexual, excitable -> give me everyone susceptible to falling in love with a woman who’s excited to kill you ❤️ like i want her biting thighs mid sex and exposing herself as a vampire meanwhile they just thought she was a lil weird, give me priests omggg, like literally her demonic ass swaying a priest from the church i live

vanessa guerra ; crime wife. passionate, deviant, glamorous, suggestive -> give me bodyguards, give me her husbands biggest rivals, let her light their cigars and perch on their laps, or even like rp as her husband just give me debauch and dangerous, i want her being shown how to fire a gun i want ‘baby he looked at me wrong. kill him.’ vibes

bunny brandt ; ghostface. calculated, mean, condescending, sarcastic -> give me camp slasher vibes, give me omg it looks like we’re the last ones alive that’s so crazy wanna make out and grope each other before i reveal i killed everyone, give me summers working in dingy amusement parks/arcades, give me girls so infatuated and scared that they wanna help bunny with her fucked up ghostface plans

candace jackson ; pageant queen. ditsy, religious, flirtatious, naive -> okay i want pageant judges i want slimy agents i want priests i want older men i want mechanics with dad bods and i want graphic beer bottle experiences and just filthy bimbofication slutty threads for her oop

sofia dewi ; professional thief. manipulative, possessive, cocky -> tbc.

min-jae 'MJ' choi ; professional thief. cunning, irascible, violent -> tbc.

duffy boone ; waitress. shy, inexperienced, wanting, daydreamer, sweet -> I want cute slowburn shit pls, sneaking around so her strict dad doesn’t find out, picking her up on a motorbike to take her on a date, giving her all her firsts, getting her high for the first time just idk cute shit pls ty

farrah stanley ; stripper. materialistic, confident, seductive, bratty, mischievous -> “sorry I don’t have any money, I’ll make it up to you!”, give me rich men coming to the strip club, give me unexpected romance with a best friend she always thought wasn’t interested but has secretly been jacking off to her like his whole life, give me sorry can I borrow your shower? just debauch porn plots basically, I want her to catch her best friends dad jacking it into her panties, or omg is that my friends dad on the other side of this glory hole?

agatha underwood ; bartender. blunt, cocky, manipulative, klepto -> I want someone to be the Clyde to her Bonnie, rob a bank with her, get a gun together and go full robbers music video style, give me planning out the theft in a shitty diner, give me being so in love that they’re willing to die for each other, give me seedy motels hiding out, but also give me the kind of arguing the devil would hide away from, give me accidentally killing someone and having to go on the run, give me disguises and stealing cars and just all that good shit yk?

cam fonseca ; DJ/videographer. anxious, stoner, inexperienced, awkward -> give me them trying to read whether or not someone’s flirting with them and being totally clueless, give me rich girls who are mean to them but secretly wanna be fucked by them, give me skater boy best friends who don’t know how to make the first move, give me lazily touching themselves while they watch a shit movie after getting high just because

tallulah gunn ; chef. snappy, sarcastic, teasing, career-driven -> yes chef kink confirmed give me chef sex, give me fucking in the alleyway behind the restaurant, give me her being desperately in love with her best friend and cooking him amazing meals and telling him he needs to take care of himself meanwhile she loves taking care of him and wants him to notice herrrr, give me her best friend catching her masturbating, give me her restaurant regular who always shows up after the restaurants closed so that she can cook him things off menu, give me her sucking her patisserie professors finger clean

cherilyn langley ; burlesque dancer. charming, excitable, cluttered, party girl -> being in love with the guy who works bar in the club she dances and neither of them knowing it yet, give me spontaneous date nights with tinder matches where she tries and fails to cook them a nice meal in her tiny apartment so they order pizza and sit on the roof give me cute shit give me omg fire fuck and being smitten with the man in uniform who shows up, give me locked out of her apartment and finally having to properly interact with the neighbour who always smiles at her in the elevator, but also give me best friends fucking around and finding out, give me playfights that result in her being spanked and liking it wayyy too much give me omg did you just send me a nude on accident I kind of love it, give me ugh I hate my situationship, should we just fuck?

presley alden ; horse rancher. stoner, opportunist, fun -> tbc.

lola calvo ; roller derby pro/film major. awkward, antisocial, competitive, mean -> give me hot roller skater girls who wanna break through her moody exterior, give me skater boys who would like to do the same, give me rivals in her film class where arguments turn to them kissing her and her being angry at first but then being totally into it, give me popular boy/girl being super into her and her thinking she doesn’t stand a chance

barbie kilpatrick ; fashion major. ditsy, stoner, materialistic, playful -> give me one night stands that turn into multiple night stands, give me fucking in a nightclub bathroom, give me cute alt boys she can steal weed from x give me her getting super angry at a boy she thinks has hurt her friend but it turns out to be his roommate/brother and he asks her on a date omg

eloise booth ; escort/psych major. seductive, materialistic, well travelled, smart, loyal -> give me in love with her professor, give me allllll of the sugar daddies, give me men who worship the ground she walks on and taking her to see the world and give me holiday romances

harrison abbot ; hotel heir. arrogant, obnoxious, entitled, lonely, charming -> give me tipsy kisses shared with his best friends girlfriend who he's in love with, give me Harrison drunk at your muses door feeling sorry for himself, give me rich socialites partying together and fucking in limousines, give me ways for him to show off his stupid wealth, give me pretend to be my girlfriend to appease my overbearing parents, give me sneaking around his hotel at night

fitz aldridge ; f1 driver. hyper-sexual, commitment phobic, suave, flirtatious, driven -> give me all the milfs, moms best friend, teachers, girlfriends mom, all those vibes, give me brothers girlfriend give me best friends girlfriend, like the vibes are definitely adultery, I want best friends that become sexual out of nowhere and then kind of dig it and make it a routine on their nights out until it gets uncomfortable, give me him fucking the sports reporters that interview him after a race

tobias penn ; music producer. romantic, passionate, sensitive, confident -> I want secret relationships and him getting frustrated that they have to keep it quiet because he naturally wants to show her off, give me musicians new to the industry that he helps produce but ultimately falls in love with, late nights in the studio, calling each other to discuss music all the time

ted buffet ; ranch owner. stern, grumpy, bossy, reserved, hard working -> hot girls working at his ranch that he can fuck pls, give me omg you've been teasing me for so long I'm going to fucking break and fuck the shit out of you if you don't quit it, give me him blowing off steam at a bar by fucking someone in the bathroom stalls, give me best friends daughter, give me shy sweet girls that he wants to protect but neither of them can help touching themselves while thinking of the other

waylon buffet ; ranch hand. adventurous, excitable, shy, sweet, golden retriever energy -> omg city girls, show him the world pls, drag him out of his comfort zone make him dance in a bar take his virginity get him love drunk okay I want him to be obsessed, I want him thinking your muse is going to take him to the big city, either city girls coming to the ranch to work or him getting an internship in some big firm where the bosses daughter makes his eyes pop out of his head because damn girls don't look like that back on the farm with their designer shoes and skimpy dresses

roman romero ; club owner. 'bad boy' prototype, sweet, passionate, hopeless romantic, loyal -> your muses dads will HATE him, him showing up out front on a motorbike, sneaking in through your muses window, I want virginal saints who he has to go slow with and they're so desperate for each other it hurts, give me pls just the tip baby I swear, whimpering when he sees her undress vibes, I want him to literally have no interest in anyone but her and protect her from everything, I want him to get extremely jealous of anyone who looks at her a certain way, I want him breaking someones arm for flirting with her, 'apologise to the pretty lady' vibes

ravi sidhu ; lit professor. reserved, romantic, intelligent -> tbc.

sid carpenter ; bassist. flirtatious, cocky, jealous, wild -> pls I want him to have fans that give him their panties and just completely throw themselves at him?? I want him getting public head at crazy industry parties and doing drugs off of titties, I also low-key want him dating a girl who’s just as iconic as he is?? bc pls like her getting him to wear her thong while he’s performing and having pink lace sit above leather trousers is low-key highkey sexy to me it’s very rock and roll coded okay

patrick spence ; drummer. awkward, charming, gangly, dorky, stoner -> okay same as deacon except when your muses throw themselves at him I want him blushing and geeking out, I want him to fall desperately in love with someone, I want like, him and a girl he has no romantic affiliation with watching a movie together that’s kinda sexy and then just mutually deciding they need to masturbate until did you just touch my leg?? leading to fucking each other basically, I want the hot girl at the video store he’s high key obsessed with showing up at one of his concerts and him just completely wilding, I want best friends younger sister I want popular girls who would never be caught dead with him

buzz underwood ; biker. unkind, aggressive, sleazy, offensive, dangerous -> ok but like cliche porn plots give me sons girlfriend stuck in a precarious position and him taking advantage, give me filthy things with beer bottles(oop) give me taking a girl for a ride on his bike and getting roadside head give me entitlement give me free use give me sharing her with his friends ok

connor hawthorne ; law student. psychotic, toxic, manipulative, gaslighter, emotionless, murderer/stalker -> I want toxic relationships for him, I want him to lose it a little whenever they argue I want him begging and desperate for her to come back to him when they break up I want obsession I want him to want to die for your muse but then in the same breath be like the biggest asshole to them ever all the time, I want overprotective toxic jealousy I want him to get slapped and get kinda hard over it 💀

wesley loomis ; ghostface. creepy, fucked up, 'tortured soul', shy without the mask, passionate, clumsy -> pls just give me lots of cliche ghost face plots, 90s/80s slasher vibes, summer camps, mega malls, give me muses that are kinda fucked up and find ghost face sexy oop, give me climbing in your muses window and sending them photos of Wes cutting off their panties

tanner copeland ; conman. sleazy, perverted, intimidating, smug, slick -> omg give me conman vs conwoman, he doesn't expect her to con him and then dip after they fuck so he makes it his life mission to find her and do the same but they start falling in love or in the process they accidentally kill someone and have to go on the run???? and all they do is bicker but then at night when your muse snuggles up to him, he kinda likes it

donovan o’toole ; corrupt priest/demon au. manipulative, charming, snake-tongued, actor, precise -> I'm thinking the most debauch things, spanking your muses clit with the cross , let him just manipulate your sweet muses okay like, convincing them it's okay to sin, bending them over the pews, but also like, your not so sweet muses trying to seduce him and him playing the tortured soul priest act and then all of a sudden switching on them and orgasm withdrawal and edging and rghfernjk yep, ALSO in the demon au, even more debauch and spooky!!

colt campbell ; mechanic. sleazy, perverted, gruff, solitary, self-serving -> give me sorry I can't pay vibes, give me sleazy dive bars, give me neighbours who wanna fuck him showing up on his doorstep asking for 'sugar', give me sitting on his lap while he plays poker with his friends and just like, domesticated vibes oop, but also 'guys you won't believe what a pretty pussy she's got, show my friends sweetheart'

cooper ashley ; porno director. professional sleaze, 'artist', charismatic, big daddy energy -> c a s t i n g c a l l, give me X vibes with crew members thinking they wanna be in the porno and Cooper indulging by showing them how, give me him making a girl a star in the porn industry but them being in love also???

beau ashley ; drug dealer. antisocial, smug, sarcastic, 'bad boy', I hate everything mindset -> waait ugh so like, his brother is Cooper, I'm seeing Cooper always having pornstars in the house and beau being disinterested in them because he's obsessed with this one sweet girl who works in like the local diner or something and they're super conscious because he's surrounded by supermodel level women all the time but he thinks she's the most beautiful girl he's ever seen????

tomas nunez ; investigative journalist/conspiracy theorist. curious, geeky, workaholic, nervous, cute -> give me fellow journalists going on like road trips to see all the alien hot spots and report on them but also like, falling in love??? slow burn, give me women who are forward and confident and him just turning into a babbling mess because he doesn't know how to talk to women, give me stupid cliche hunting big foot shit and like, also unlocking his freaky side in an abandoned asylum or something when your muse lies in the bed and he straps them in and immediately gets hard, but also OKAY IS THIS STUPID IDK, I kind of want him to fuck a hot alien babe, because like, him teaching them everything????? idk eep

michael ostreicher ; wannabe director. dorky, playful, golden retriever, horny -> give me roommates to lovers, give me milfs, give me I shouldn't be in love with you because you're my best friends gf, give me meet cute, give me meet ugly, give me slowburn, give me bridesmaids at a friends wedding??? give me threesomes

kenzo maeda ; videographer. awkward, stoner, weirdo energy, unrealistic -> literally just give me he was a skater boy she said see you later boy vibes, popular girls who act disgusted by him in public but love him in private, give me best friends who have a crush on him and he's oblivious maybe because he's smitten by some popular blonde who hates him and the tension of him finding out and then realising the girl of his dreams has always been thereeeee idk

frankie manetti ; chef. swears all the time, short fuse, rough sex, smokes like a chimney -> yes chef kink confirmed, I kinda love the idea of milfs eating at his restaurant and then wanting to 'pay compliments to the chef' while their husband is still at the table hitting on a waitress, I want him to have a strange relationship with one of the girls who works in the restaurant, maybe his girlfriend is the waitress but him and his chef colleague share way too many looks and tender moments but then the next minute he's swearing in their face telling them that what they've cooked isn't good enough, maybe they cry and he goes to console them and they kiss and then he goes home with his waitress gf and its just like ???

silas st.james ; travel blogger. laid back, adventurous, intelligent, easily smitten -> plsssss I'm just picturing solo travellers meeting him by chance and them travelling together, falling in love and him showing her the world, but also like, him taking work at a beach club or something to fund his travelling and meeting hot moms, I want like, idk the film but they decide to get off the train together?? idk those vibes okay

[wqbytop100]

WQBY

Top100 for the week ending November 5, 2023

See You Again --- Vicetone, Anna Clendenning -3/6weeks ''peakx1''

Summertime Friends----The Chainsmokers ---1/7weeks ''peak1x2''

Strangers ---Kenya Grace --4/3weeks

I'll Be There ---Robin Schulz, Rita Ora, Tiago PZK -9/3weeks

Other Boys ----Marshmello, Dove Cameron -8/7weeks ''peak5''

Nevada---Vicetone, Cozi Zuehisdorff -87/4weeks

Hangin' On -- A R I Z O N A -2/10weeks ''peak1x4''

One Last Dance---Imanbek, Ali Gatie -10/6weeks

Spend The Night ---BJ the Chicago Kid, Coco Jones -11/7weeks

Boyfriend -- USHER -12/10weeks

Sorry Now -- A R I Z O N A -6/4weeks ''peak6''

More Baby ---Chris Lake, Aluna =18/7weeks ''peak5''

Good Morning---Timmy Trumpet, Alie Farber, YOU -17/4weeks

Strangely Sentimental ---Anabel Englund -33/21weeks ''peakx1'' (the week of 9/3.23)

At Your Worst -- Calum Scott -15/10weeks ''peak5''

Wanna Dance ---Alie Farber, James Carter, VARGEN -14/5weeks

AEIOU ---PNAU, Empire of the Sun -27/3weeks

From The Day On ---Andrew Rayel, JES -29/19weeks ''peak1x2'' (the weeks of 9.10 & 9.17 2023)

Tied to You ---Elderbrook -16/7weeks ''peak2''

Jungle---Alok, The Chainsmokers, Mae Stephens -13/7weeks ''peak6''

Stress You ---Lucas Estrada, SUPER Hi --7/4weeks

Lost & Found ---Gorgon City, Julia Church -24/15weeks ''peak8''

Go Off ---Mike Candys -19/6weeks

Living In A Haze--Milky Chance -5/18weeks ''peak2x2''

Drums ---James Hype, Kim Petras -25/4weeks

Dark Skies ---A R I Z O N A -26/4weeks

Following the Sun ---SUPER Hi, NEEKA -21/14weeks

Fever---Lewis Thompkins, Punctual, Hight -20/4weeks

One of the Wolves ---Robin Schulz -22/10weeks ''peak7''

***Dreaming ---Marshmello, PInk, Sting -(new) /1

Die for a Night --- A R I Z O N A -35/24weeks ''peak1x3'' (for the weeks of August 13, August 20, August 27)

eMtunzini ----Muzi -45/12weeks ''peak12''

De Selby --- Hozier -36/14weeks ''peak5''

Elevator Eyes---Tove Lo -46/10weeks ''peak9''

Light On ---Markus Schulz, Sarah de Warren -30/15weeks ''peak10x2''

<> "Padam Padam" ----Kylie Minogue ->reentry

Body Count ----Jason Derulo -56/10weeks ''peak14''

<> "Dressed for a Funeral" ----Groupthink, Sunday Scaries ->reentry

Moonlight ---Laidback Luke, GATTUSO f/Antrex -55/12weeks ''peak15''

<> "Jacare'" ---Sofi Tukker ->reentry

If Only I --- Loud Luxury, Two Friends, Bebe Rexha -49/14weeks ''peak9''

Motive---Armin Van Buuren -51/16weeks ''peak8''

<>Why You? --- Adam Melchor ->re-entry ''peak20''

Stranger on a Train ---SUPER Hi -57/10weeks ''peak25''

Both---Tiesto -48/4weeks

Diamond Therapy --- Diplo, Walker & Royce, Channel Tres -31/5weeks

What We Know---Lucas & Steve, Conor Byrne -38/4weeks

Subterranean---Miss Monique, AVIRA, LUNA -40/4weeks

Moon---Locklead -61/9weeks ''peak26''

The Beautiful Letdown--Switchfoot, Jonas Brothers -62/9weeks ''peak17''

The Worst Person Alive----G Flip -109/

Smiley Water----Mike. -97/7weeks

----> Makeba---JAIN -[re-entry]

Bitter --Freya Ridings -93/8weeks

<>It's In My Head---Provoker -/5weeks

We Could Be Love ---Hayden James, AR/CO -94/8weeks

Wreckage---Gorgon City, Julia Church -110/

Hip Trumpets---Yolando Be Cool, KVISION -122/

What Do You Do? ---Jess Glynne -153/

***Bite Marks---Ari Abdul -(new) /1

<>You Need Jesus----Yung Gravy, BabyGravy, bbno$ -

Fight My Demons---Yung Bae, Barney Bones, Leven Kali -85/4weeks

Forever Gold ---Siskin -39/4weeks

All Night---Charlie Houston -70/6weeks

A Lot Like Heaven---37/4weeks

Feel It (Club Edit) ----Jazzy -65/4weeks

<>Location---Cheat Codes, A7S - (re-entry into TOP100)

Blur---KREAM -28/4weeks

The Little Mushroom that got Away ---Sultan + Shepard, Lane8 -44/4weeks

A Lesson In Chemistry---Anabel Englund -53/4weeks

You're So High (10 Years On) ---Eli & Fur -42/4weeks

Desire---Nicky Romero, TELYKAST, Linney -81/4weeks

<>Ecstasy ---MEDUZA, GENSIS -(debut 10.22.23)

Save My Love---Destiny Rogers -92/4weeks

Dress Code ---Mau P -93/4weeks

***Sad Forever--Lauren Spencer Smith -125/2weeks

Champagne Shit---Janelle Monae, Latto, Quavo -140/2weeks

My Own Advice---William Black, ILLENIUM, Alana Springsteen -142/2weeks

When We Touch---Ludo Lacoste, Santelli, Twinflame, Rozegarden -80/3weeks

Better Off (Alone Part III) ---Alan Walker, Dash Berlin, Vikkstar -139/2weeks

One More Memory---Andrew Rayel -34/4weeks

Waiting For U---Laidback Luke, Ralphi *(Jake Silva remix) -78/9weeks

Don't Go Insane--- DPR IAN -50/4weeks

***Hands On Me---Jason Derulo, Meghan Trainor -(new) /1

***It Takes Two---Camila Cabello, Anna Kendrick, Justin Timberlake -(new) 1

***It's Gone ---Kaskade, Crayskook -(new) /1

You're Hired---NEIKED f/Nyra Starr -59/4weeks

Dancing At The Disco----J. Worra, Cherry Tooth -88/3weeks

***Can't Take It Slow ---- Citizen -(new) /1

***Life On the Moon ---Duncan Lawrence -(new) /1

Kriss Kross---W&W, Da Tweekaz -71/4weeks

***Alone---Andrew Rayel, Amanda Collis -(new) /1

<>Running Blind----Aluna, Tchami, Kareem Lomax -2weeks

***Lighter---Steve Aoki, Paris Hilton -(new) /1

Me & My Guitar---Jax Jones, Fireboy DML -52/8weeks

***Ohh LA LA ---Idris Elba, Sashi GiGI -(new) /1

***Preacher---Ownboss, Outflux, No/Me -(new) /1

***In The City---Charlix XCX, Sam Smith -(new) /1

Bigger Than The Song---Britney Spencer -84/5weeks

The Feeling---Lost Frequencies -43/4weeks

***Memories---Sam Feldt, Sofiloud -(new)

***The Greatest Thing Alive---Mark Knight, Green Velvet, James Hurr -(new)

On My Love---Zara Larsson, David Guetta -68/6weeks

***One Of Your Girls---Troye Sivan -(new)

***Idolize---Dorian Electra -(new)

<>Deep Inside Of Me---Bob Sinclar, A-Trak, Mele - (re-entry) 2weeks

<> Blanket---Kevin Abstract - [re-entry] 2weeks

If Summer Was A Sound---Goldfish, Malou -47/4weeks

***Crossroads ----Sophie Simmons -(new)

Black Dress---070 Shake -91/5weeks

***Heard It Like This---ACRAZE, Joey Valence & Brae -(new)

Sing With Me---Goldfish, Keanan Eksteen -58/4weeks

***Sunday ---Dermont Kennedy -(new)

***Turn You Up---Kaskade, Winn Winn -(new)

<>Resolution -Adam Melchor -2weeks

I Love Hollywood---Slayyter -94/4weeks

<>I Feel Love--Freya Ridings -[re-entry]

<>Westside---SIDEPIECE -[re-entry]

***Shades---Andrew Rayel -(new)

California Child---Goldfish, The Palms, Hi-Def -60/4weeks

Quarter Life Crises---Baby Queen -97/8weeks

<>Love Music Part 4) ---Ren -[re-entry]

<>What Are We Waiting For--- for King & Country -[re-entry]

<>I Don't Wanna Leave--Thomas Day -2weeks

Guarantee-Summer Mix ---Black Eyed Peas, J. Rey Soul -32/5weeks

Chamallow---Polo & Pan -66/4weeks

In My Zone ---S.O. GIDI -64/8weeks

<>The Greatest---Tones & I - [re-entry]

We Should Get Married ---Dan & Shay -67/9weeks

Over Now---7Lions, Above & Beyond -72

Alive-Roosevelt -73

She's On My Mind -Romy -74

Let Me Go--Jigitz -75

On My Way--Sidepiece-76

19-Stephen Dawes -77

Down Like That-BrysonTiller -79

React--Switch Disco -80

Everything Is Changing--Goldfish -83

Where You Are--John Summit -86

Die Young---Venbee -89

All In A Dream--LP Giobbi -90

Looking For Love-Disclosure -98

Take Me Back-Chri$tian Gate$ -100

[allthingsdarkanddirty]

✯✯✯ FREEBIE ALERT ✯✯✯

The Last Valkyrie by Karina Espinosa

Raven Romero is a washed up Valkyrie who is unable to return to Valhalla, spending her days in a haze of sex, drugs, and alcohol.

When she is wrongfully accused of murder, Raven has two options: run or clear her name. With a laundry list of enemies, she has no idea who could be framing her. One thing is for sure: they know what she is and they'll stop at nothing until she’s behind bars or dead.

With no choice but to delve into the supernatural underground she tried so hard to avoid, Raven seeks aid and learns what it means to be human.

The world believes her kind no longer exists, but Raven Romero is The Last Valkyrie.

@InstaByKarina

Hosted by @LadyAmbersReviewsPR

[popmusicu]

The Symphonic Crusaders: Music's Role in Shaping JoJo's Bizarre Adventure by Martín Romero

JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, also known as Jojo no Kimyou na Bouken in Japanese, is a captivating anime series that combines elements of the music industry with its unique character and plot names. This fusion of anime and music creates an intriguing and immersive experience for fans.

Creator Hirohiko Araki draws inspiration from various musical sources throughout the series when naming characters and their abilities. Whether it's legendary bands, iconic songs, or individual musicians, the show weaves a tapestry of musical references into its narrative. Each character's name reflects their personality, motivations, or special abilities, establishing a deeper connection between the story and the music it pays homage to.

For example, the central character Jotaro Kujo pays tribute to the renowned musician Jōtarō Takahashi. Other characters, like Dio Brando (inspired by Ronnie James Dio and Marlon Brando), Josuke Higashikata (a blend of Araki's editor and musician Prince), and Kira Yoshikage (referencing the Queen song "Killer Queen"), showcase the diverse range of musical influences.

The musical inspiration extends beyond character names to the stand abilities in the series. Stands, which represent unique powers possessed by characters, are often named after songs or albums. This further solidifies the connection between music and the storyline. Examples include Crazy Diamond (derived from Pink Floyd's "Shine On You Crazy Diamond"), Killer Queen (inspired by the Queen song), and Gold Experience (paying tribute to Prince's album "The Gold Experience").

By incorporating these musical references, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure not only pays homage to influential musicians but also enhances the narrative experience for fans. The inclusion of "Gold Experience" as a stand ability, for instance, not only showcases Prince's musical legacy but adds an extra layer of meaning to the series. It highlights the power of music as a source of inspiration and its ability to shape creative works in captivating ways.

In conclusion, JoJo's Bizarre Adventure masterfully intertwines the music industry with its storytelling. By incorporating musical references in character names and stand abilities, the series pays homage to influential musicians and deepens the connection between the anime and the music it draws inspiration from. This unique blend of anime and music creates an engaging and unforgettable experience for fans, highlighting the profound impact of music as a catalyst for creative inspiration.

By Martín Romero

PS: Im sharing a playlist that captures the incredible music and adventurous spirit of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure. It's a fusion of tracks that blend perfectly with the unique character and plot names from the series. From iconic rock anthems to psychedelic tunes, this playlist is a musical journey that will transport you into the captivating world of JoJo.

It's filled with songs that reflect the energy, intensity, and diversity of the show. You'll find classic hits like Queen's 'Bohemian Rhapsody' and Jimi Hendrix's 'Purple Haze,' as well as tracks like Black Sabbath's 'Paranoid' that bring a powerful and epic vibe.

And of course, I couldn't forget the JoJo references! Listen to 'Roundabout' by Yes, the ending theme of Stardust Crusaders, and Queen's 'Killer Queen' - a song that shares its name with one of the iconic stand abilities in the series.

So, grab your headphones and get ready to embark on a musical adventure. GoldoExperience the magic of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure through the power of music!

Here's the link to the playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/7uYz1Wk6EagNP5wkg368qP?si=6dfc94a51a604c0d

[subliminalbointext]

Alphas #1: It Starts With a Pledge

Corbin is already waiting for me when I get to the café. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall businesses wedged between a convenience store and a ghost town of a pizza joint that everyone says is the best near campus. Everything on this block is Romero’s best kept secret and that makes this as good a place as any for a secret meeting. I try to hide my frustration when I exit the café with my latte and take my seat on the patio next to Corbin.

We’re both wearing nondescript hats and chunky sunglasses, the private detective’s uniform. So inconspicuous it’s suspicious. Our clandestine wardrobes break the tension between the two of us. We share a laugh, and it feels good to smile with Corbin. I decide not to tell her how this makes me feel, her tagging along on every little investigation.

I’ve been working for Corbin for six months. We’ve broken three major stories together—a campus rapist, a drug dealing TA, a professor taking favors for grades. The Carpenter Watchblog is peaking in popularity, and now Corbin faces a burden unique to success: her readers expect a bigger story every time. She tells me that she isn’t chasing clout. She’s only started the blog because she wants to make a difference. I believe her.

“Corbin?”

The young woman stands in the doorway with her arms crossed. She speaks softly, but in a way that feels more confident than I’d be if our roles were reversed. Her name is Emily Reid. Her tip came through the Watchblog’s email and it was too interesting to pass up. Corbin gestures for her to take a seat. She hasn’t purchased anything at the café. I offer to buy her a coffee.

Emily politely waves off the offer and says, “I won’t be long.”

Corbin shows an unfamiliar level of restraint in not forcing the girl back into the café just to keep up the appearance of three friends catching up. She simply provides her warmest smile as Emily sits down. Maybe I’m rubbing off on her.

I ready my laptop for notes as Corbin slouches casually back in her chair and listens. In contrast, Emily is sitting straight-backed. She clears her throat and releases a little puff of air through her nose like she’s about to give a God, Flag, and Country speech.

Her story begins with the decision to pledge to a sorority—Alpha Delta Theta.

“Everything was normal at first,” she says. “Just a regular, fun group of girls. They were nice and supportive. They treated me like I’d always been a part of their group. That’s what it’s all about, you know. Helping girls adjust to college life, creating a community for strangers. I’d found my home away from home. And then the hazing started.”

Emily was doing her best to remain strong, but I caught the glint of tears in her eyes.

“They gave each of us a pair of underwear. It was the first test for pledging. We had to wear it for one week. When I slipped mine on I—well I can’t describe the feeling. The thing is, I guess, I didn’t really feel anything at all. Maybe weightlessness, or numbness. It was an absence of some kind. But not in my body—in my mind.”

Corbin shoots a glance at me as she reaches for her cup. I nod back in understanding, quickly typing a note: Obedience by Fleur.

“I knew what I was doing,” she continues. “When I accepted the underwear, they told us what it was, what it would do to us. They called it ‘slave for a week.’ We were each assigned to an upperclassman and had to obey their every command. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you feel pressured to accept?” I ask.

Emily bites her lip before answering. “The thing is that this underwear is the hot new thing, right? Everyone around campus is playing with it.”

We’re aware of the stories. We have emails flooding our inbox from concerned parents and right-wing student organizations appalled by a fetish suddenly entering the mainstream. Even Corbin, as hip as she is, has her concerns about the lingerie that mind controls you. Emily is our only first-person testimony, but if people are out there abusing Obedience by Fleur, why would their victims come to us?

“It just seemed like a fun joke, you know? And it’s college. We’re supposed to fool around.” Emily’s gaze darts away for a moment as we consider how to interpret that last sentence. She continues, “A part of me even thought…well, you know, with homework, and papers, and midterms…it’s nice to lose control for a while.”

“I know,” Corbin nods. I wonder how much she does. So much of Corbin is still a mystery to me. “It didn’t stop at slave for a week though, did it?”

Emily shakes her head. She wipes a tear from her cheek. “It isn’t just the underwear. There’s something going on in that house. Every night she takes someone to the basement and when they come back they’re different.”

Corbin straightens up in her chair. I lean forward over my laptop. We’re getting to the details now.

“She?” I repeat.

“Madison,” Emily replies. “Our president. I was too out of it for that first week to notice. Fuck, maybe I did and I just didn’t care. Madison has this power over the sisters. They love her like a mother and fear her like a god. If you look passed the partying and the booze and the bullshit college drama you start to see it: The Alphas aren’t a sorority. They’re a cult.”

Spooky shit. In the distance the weekly Romero air siren test announces that it’s noon on a Wednesday. The sound pulls Corbin from rapt attention. She starts a little. I feel chilly and I look down to see goosebumps on my arms.

Emily raises her voice a little to project over the siren. “I tried to talk to my Big about it. I wanted to know what Madison was doing in the basement. She told me that Madison had a vision for us. She said that I needed to trust in her wisdom. When I said that wasn’t good enough, that I was seriously considering leaving the sorority if I didn’t get a real answer, she said that I was breaking my pledge by asking questions. ‘Good slaves only listen.’”

I don’t know if I say it, or Corbin, or the both of us, but the word just lingers there in the air between the three of us. “Jesus.”

“Weren’t you wearing it?” Corbin asks.

“Yes,” Emily says. “But after a few days…I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Or, I guess, I didn’t like how I felt without it. In the shower, all I could think about was getting it back on, going back under. It’s like an addiction. I couldn’t imagine surviving a whole week. I knew if I kept wearing it, at some point, I’d never be able to walk away. I’d be a slave forever.”

“So how did you stop it?” I ask.

“On the third day, when I was getting dressed for class, I ripped the chip out of the lining of the bra and panties.”

“And that’s when you start asking questions,” Corbin nods.

“Yes,” Emily says. “And I start noticing the pledges. One by one, they’re taken to the basement. They’re gone for hours, my friends. And when they come back, they have that look. The same one all the sisters have when they talk about Madison’s plan. And suddenly they’re interested in his her and serving her vision. I knew that I was running out of time. Sooner or later she would get to me too.”

“So you left,” Corbin says.

“I just walked out in the middle of the night. I left most of my stuff behind.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” I ask.

“I have a friend,” Emily says. “She’s from my stats class. Thinks the whole Greek life thing is dumb. Her dorm is cramped, but it’s better than losing my mind.”

I don’t have much, but I offer my couch. Again, she waves it off. “I’m only here to get the word out about Madison. As far as I’m concerned that’s my part, and this is the last I ever plan to talk about it.” She turns her attention away from me and onto Corbin. “Just publish the story, please. To most of us, you’re the only voice that matters.”

Corbin doesn’t know how to take compliments. She squirms a little and makes a sound that I don’t recognize. A laugh? A groan? It stretches for a second too long before segueing into, “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” I smile. “There isn’t a story Corbin can’t blow wide open. I promise this is the last you have to think about the Alphas until you read about it on the blog.”

Sometimes I feel less like an investigator and more like Corbin’s PR team.

We return to Corbin’s apartment to work out the details of the story over lunch. First, we debate pizza. But this will be takeout two days in a row, so Corbin guilts me into making ramen. She watches from the bar overlooking her tiny kitchenette. The noodles are taking their time to boil.

“I wish you hadn’t told her I’d publish the story,” she finally says.

I turn away from the pot to see the expression on Corbin’s face. It’s a look that I recognize, one she only has when she’s about to take the weight of the world onto her shoulders. I’ve tried to remind her that that’s why she hired me. I’m here to lift the burden.

“That’s what you do,” I say. “You publish stories.”

If I’m being honest, the blog is in a rut. It’s been weeks since Corbin’s last story and copycats are popping up around campus. We’re dangerously close to irrelevance. I’m worried about her. I don’t know if she’s losing interest or if it’s something else. The last story, the one about the professor taking favors from students, ended in his garage. Carbon monoxide. Is she doubting her work?

She said that we were lucky that he only hurt himself. Maybe she’s still spooked about the drug dealer. I set a meeting to catch him in the act, met with him face to face. She hated that he knew who I was, that I’d put myself out there like that. It was easy enough getting herself into trouble but now she’d pulled an innocent bystander into her pattern of self-destruction. I had to remind her that I’d volunteered for this.

Whatever it is, something has Corbin on edge. She rubs her face with her hands and I can almost see the anxiety rubbing away. She enters journalist mode.

“She uses the underwear initially to control the new pledges,” she says. “But she needs something more permanent, something that can’t be taken off.”

“Hypnosis?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Corbin nods. “Whatever it is, it takes time. She has a system. A way to break a person and bend them to her will.”

“I bet we’ll find the answer in the basement of that house,” I say.

Corbin is already shaking her head. “Absolutely not,” she says. “A house crawling with brainwashed sorority sisters? I can’t send you into that.”

“Allegedly brainwashed sorority sisters.”

After a bit of back and forth, I reluctantly agree to hold back and wait for more information. Corbin will do her thing—shake some trees and see what turns up. I must have had the conversation with her a dozen times now. I know that she didn’t want to take me on, but she did take me on, and now I’m wasting time on the bench.

I was a sheltered child, youth group weekends and bible camp summers. I didn’t understand the real horrors of the world back then, not until I left for college. I don’t know if it was one thing. Maybe the gender theory classes or the daily campus crime texts, but something awakened inside of me. When I discovered Corbin’s blog, I realized that I couldn’t be silent anymore. I’d spent so many years as a good church girl parroting back opinions like, “If she hadn’t dressed that way,” or “Guilty people don’t run.” It wasn’t just a morbid curiosity for true crime that drove me to Corbin. I wanted to make right with the world.

I don’t push the subject. Instead, we eat our ramen at the breakfast bar and talk about literally anything else. Corbin’s eyes glaze over when I start to speculate about the plan for Marvel’s phase three. She pretends to snooze, begs me to watch “Literally any other movie.” I compare her to an annoying film professor. We laugh. It’s a fun night as long as we avoid the mind controlled elephant in the room.

Stepping out of her apartment, Corbin grabs my arm and looks at me with those serious mom eyes. “Stay away from the Alphas,” she says. “At least until I get some more information.”

“I promise.”

I hop on a bus, and on the ride back to campus I pull up Twitter and start following Alphas. I soon connect with a bubbly blonde named Tina. I tell her that I’m interested in joining her sorority. Pledge season is ending, she says, but there’s never been a better time to be an Alpha. Nice and supportive, just like Emily said. By the time the bus reaches my apartment, Tina’s already invited me out for drinks.

I think about Corbin, my promise. Ask for forgiveness, they say. Go big or go home, or some other cliché.

I quickly send Tina a pair of clinking glasses emojis, then I type, “Where’s the party?”

[game-meak]

Can you believe it’s been like 2 years since the updated release of Living Playground and then in December, 2 years since the release of The Witch’s Puppets?  Wild!!!

To celebrate, I’ve dropped the artbook to $1 on sale from now until the end of December.  This picture of Haze isn’t in it because I just drew it recently to show how I do one-layer painting in Sai, but there are ~50 pages of other art for your viewing pleasure!!!  Or displeasure, since some of it is from 2012 and ouch oof.

It’d also be neat if I had more info on new stuff soon.  But that remains to be seen!!!

[meakersneakers]

A bunch of limited palette requests...!

[spenchaaaaan]

Commission chibi art for @meaka of their character Haze Romero, from their game Living Playground: The Witch’s Puppets.

I forgot what it was like to draw a character with pink hair. It was nice U v U

Want to gift yourself or a friend chibi art this holiday season? Buy a $12 Ko-Fi commission from a potato (that’s me)!

[dameronology]

what sober couldn't say (s.h)

summary: a drunken confession might finally fix you & steve

warnings: alcohol, swearing, brief references to sex, fem! reader, she/her pronouns used

enjoy!! -jazz

p.s this has not been proofread

Steve Harrington was programmed by this point in his life to react negatively to weird fucking noises at 4AM.

A rustling in the bush outside; a tap on the window; one of the shutters flapping. Nine times out of ten it was just a cat or a branch or a bird but after spending the better part of three years fighting the supernatural, no one could blame him for being skittish. Being home alone wasn’t a novelty anymore. Not when there had been a weird rustling coming from his front porch for almost an hour. Steve had almost convinced himself it was a Demogorgon. Because they were definitely capable of obtaining a passport, boarding a plane from Russia and finding his house, right? After everything, that theory wasn’t even completely implausible. And if it wasn’t a Demogorgon, what the damn hell was it?

The answer was both better and worse that he had expected.

It was you.

Passed out on his porch, mini dress bunched up around your waist as you shivered beneath your jacket – wait, was that his…nevermind, not important – and stared out onto the road ahead. You’d been out at a party. Steve could tell that much. It was Chrissy Cunningham’s, he’d figured. Yeah, Steve was meant to go to that. It was just that the idea of bumping into you had been too much, and he couldn’t deal with all of Robin’s questions. So, he’d snatched up a last-minute late-night shift at the video store, all in pursuit of avoiding you. Now would have been a bad time to ask him how his plan was going.

“Why the hell are you on my porch at 4am like a hobo?”

You glanced up at Steve – dopey eyes, hazed over by the influence of your new lover, Jack Daniels.

“Was at a party,” you muttered. “I got drunk and I slept with Greg Romero. Y’know the tall guy from the basketball team? Ginger, kinda looks like a straight Luke Skywalker?”

“Greg Romero hasn’t been on the basketball team since we graduated two years ago,” he replied. “And Luke Skywalker is not gay-”

“- he looks at Han Solo the same way my mum does.”

“EVERYONE looks at Han Solo – why am I even having this discussion with you?”

Steve went to say something, maybe to tell you to leave, to tell you to get a taxi home, anything to allude to the fact you weren’t his problem, before he realised you probably were. If he’d been with you at that party, you would have at least been drunk with him. Hell, you might have not gone at all. That had left your system in high school. Now that you’d graduated, the last few months had been spent on the sofa with a shitty movie and popcorn. Just him and you, sometimes the cat, on his parents stupidly soft sofa in stupidly soft fucking bliss. Neither of you would have thought that him asking you out in tenth grade science class would have gotten you here.

Here being a fully-fledged adult relationship. Here being a fully-fledged adult break-up.

High school breaks up had been different. Less meaningful. All notes being passed in class and left in lockers; whispers being thrown around from desk to desk, lingering in the cafeteria but never going beyond the confines of Hawkins High. Things weren’t serious back then. Not serious in the way they were now. Your break-up had hit you both like a fucking train: spur of the moment, unexpected, an emotional pain to tense it felt like it could have broken your spine. Neither of you had wanted to break up. You were both just too stubborn to admit it.

So yeah, you were still Steve Harrington’s problem. You were always going to be Steve Harrington’s problem.

He let out a sigh and knelt in front of you, brown eyes creased with concern.

“Okay so,” he began. “You hooked up with Greg Romero. Now you’re on my doorstep. You gotta fill in the gaps.”

“He kicked me out his car,” you explained. “Well, he asked for an address first. And I didn’t know what to say because I can’t go back to my mums like this, so I just…I thought of you. I regret it now.”

“Nice to know chivalry isn’t completely dead,” Steve muttered, rolling his eyes. “C’mon, you drunk. I guess I’m babysitting you.”

Steve stuck his hands under your armpits and helped you up. Thank fuck his parents were out of town again; they wouldn’t have taken kindly to their son’s ex waking them up in the small hours of the morning.

He kept a hand on the small of your back as you wandered up the stairs and to his bathroom. You knew the way, naturally. There had been a point in your life where you had practically lived here. Despite the lacklustre family that resided here, it was a nice fucking house. All expensive and shiny, with heated floors and high ceilings. You had those floors in mind as you laid out on the bathroom floor, letting out a small smile at the feeling of the warmth on your bare skin.

“How much did you drink?” Steve gently asked. He got a flannel and wet it, softly wiping some smudged eyeliner from underneath your waterline.

Breaking up in a physical sense was different from breaking up in an emotional one. He knew that more than ever right now, automatically jumping into action the way he did when you were together. Get her makeup off, some warm clothes on, and leave her by the toilet for an hour to see if she throws up and then bed; he was listing it mentally in his head, brain hot-wiring the routine he’d developed from being with you for so long. Never mind that it involved you wearing his clothes or sleeping in his bed. The main thing was that you were safe. Also, that he was going to left-hook Greg Romero for a) going near you and b) leaving you on the side of the fucking road.

“Couple Jack and cokes,” you murmured. “There were some shots as well. Jagerbombs and those ones that taste like juice.”

“Sours,” Steve muttered with a smile. He took a seat beside you.

He didn’t say anything when you wordlessly shuffled closer to him, head dropping into his lap. A large hand instinctively came to cup your head, keeping it away from the boniness of his knee. God, he was so fucking caring, In everything he did, even after you’d broken up, he had you in mind. It made him ache a little inside because he would have sold his left arm to whatever god there was just for this to be your norm again. Steve Harrington was a caregiver by heart, but he could have sworn he was yours by purpose. Like looking out for you and having your back was a biblical task bestowed onto him by a deity who was about to have too many left arms.

“I miss you, Steve,” you said.

“You’re only saying that because you’re drunk.”

“No, I’m only admitting it because I’m drunk.”

He peered down at you, dark eyes a golden-brown under the harsh bathroom lights. “I miss you too.”

“You never called.”

“What?”

“When I left…” you trailed off, before pausing for a moment. “The day I left you in that diner – the same day we broke up – you said you would call me, and we could talk.”

Steve wanted to kick himself now. He didn’t remember much about that day except from dragging his newfound heartbreak home and collapsing into bed. He definitely didn’t remember promising to call. By the time the thought ever came around, he was already convinced you hated him. He definitely hated him.

“Shit,” he murmured. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry.”

“If you’d just fucking called, Steve,” your drunken babbling called continued, “maybe I would have put my pride aside and admitted I didn’t want to break up-“

“- and you think I did?” Steve asked. “I was just going along with it in the moment.”

“Me too!” you whacked his arm with a grin. “It’s nice to know we’re in sync, even when we’re breaking up.”

“Right,” he hummed.

“So if we miss each other, and we never wanted to break up, then why…”

“Why what?”

Steve glanced down at you, but you were already fast asleep.

--

Waking up in Steve's bed the next morning, in his clothes no less, felt like a fever dream. For a second, you were convinced the last few weeks had happened in your head; the break-up, the hurt, the party and your less-than-stellar fling with Greg Romero. You would have thought he would have been madder that you fucked someone else, to be honest. Steve wasn't jealous by nature but the idea of you with literally anyone else had always hurt him in a way he could never quite verbalise.

He was passed out beside you now, hair sticking up in a million different directions.

"Are you mad at me?"

Steve let out a little huh? and peeled one eye open. "Wha?"

"Are you mad at me?" you repeated.

"For what?"

"For fucking Greg Romero."

Steve blinked, sitting up. The blankets fell off his chest and your eyes followed, very briefly staring at his chest. You expected him to quickly cover it back up again, but he wasn't bothered. He was still half asleep, bleary eyed and with a raspy voice, but his brain had very jumped into analysing what you'd asked him.

"No, I don't think so," he said, but stopped to think for a minute. "Yeah, no, you're good. We're broken up, so you can sleep with who you want."

"Right, yeah," you nodded. Was bad that a part of you was a little sad that he hadn't gotten angry at you?

"That's not to say that the thought of you with someone else is a bit shit," Steve continued. "Doesn't mean it's your fault, though."

"You're allowed to be mad at me, Steve," you pushed. "I turned up at your door at four in the fucking morning, drunk off my ass."

He peered at you, smiling a little. "I'm surprised you remember all of that."

"That's the last thing I remember, to be honest," you grimaced.

"Oh?" he grinned. "So you don't remember what you said before you passed out?"

"No?"

"It was something to the affect of if we miss each other and don't want to be broken up, then why are we?" he said. "You come out with a lot of dumb shit when you're drunk but I think that, for once, was insightful."

You wanted to curse your drunk self. Not because it wasn't you, but because it was honest you. A few rounds of liquid courage and suddenly, you were asking all the fucking questions. If you were always that forward-thinking, you could have won a Nobel prize.

"Shit," you muttered. "I am so sorry-"

"- don't be sorry," Steve cut you off. "I think we both needed to hear it."

"Really?"

"Yeah," he said. Then, as if a switch in him had been flipped, he sat up. "Hey, do you wanna get some breakfast?"

"Uh, yeah, okay," you blinked in surprise.

"I mean...so we can talk," he explained.

"Yeah, that sounds good," you smiled.

"Can I kiss you?" he suddenly asked. "Would it be weird if I did? Wait, is it weird that I asked-"

-you cut Steve off by taking his face in your hands and planting a kiss on his lips. It wasn't anything massive, but it snapped him out of the rant he as about to enter. You'd missed the feeling of him; his lips were always soft and minty, and something he did this thing where he'd tug your lower lip on his bottom teeth. He drove you fucking insane in the best and worst ways.

"Right," he cleared his throat, clearly a bit flustered. "Okay. Cool."

"So, breakfast?"

"Yeah, breakfast."

tags: @m00nkn1ghts @mads-weasley @karasong @megmeg-chan @harghoes

[subliminalbo]

Alphas #1: It Starts With a Pledge

Corbin is already waiting for me when I get to the café. It’s one of those hole-in-the-wall businesses wedged between a convenience store and a ghost town of a pizza joint that everyone says is the best near campus. Everything on this block is Romero’s best kept secret and that makes this as good a place as any for a secret meeting. I try to hide my frustration when I exit the café with my latte and take my seat on the patio next to Corbin.

We’re both wearing nondescript hats and chunky sunglasses, the private detective’s uniform. So inconspicuous it’s suspicious. Our clandestine wardrobes break the tension between the two of us. We share a laugh, and it feels good to smile with Corbin. I decide not to tell her how this makes me feel, her tagging along on every little investigation.

I’ve been working for Corbin for six months. We’ve broken three major stories together—a campus rapist, a drug dealing TA, a professor taking favors for grades. The Carpenter Watchblog is peaking in popularity, and now Corbin faces a burden unique to success: her readers expect a bigger story every time. She tells me that she isn’t chasing clout. She’s only started the blog because she wants to make a difference. I believe her.

“Corbin?”

The young woman stands in the doorway with her arms crossed. She speaks softly, but in a way that feels more confident than I’d be if our roles were reversed. Her name is Emily Reid. Her tip came through the Watchblog’s email and it was too interesting to pass up. Corbin gestures for her to take a seat. She hasn’t purchased anything at the café. I offer to buy her a coffee.

Emily politely waves off the offer and says, “I won’t be long.”

Corbin shows an unfamiliar level of restraint in not forcing the girl back into the café just to keep up the appearance of three friends catching up. She simply provides her warmest smile as Emily sits down. Maybe I’m rubbing off on her.

I ready my laptop for notes as Corbin slouches casually back in her chair and listens. In contrast, Emily is sitting straight-backed. She clears her throat and releases a little puff of air through her nose like she’s about to give a God, Flag, and Country speech.

Her story begins with the decision to pledge to a sorority—Alpha Delta Theta.

“Everything was normal at first,” she says. “Just a regular, fun group of girls. They were nice and supportive. They treated me like I’d always been a part of their group. That’s what it’s all about, you know. Helping girls adjust to college life, creating a community for strangers. I’d found my home away from home. And then the hazing started.”

Emily was doing her best to remain strong, but I caught the glint of tears in her eyes.

“They gave each of us a pair of underwear. It was the first test for pledging. We had to wear it for one week. When I slipped mine on I—well I can’t describe the feeling. The thing is, I guess, I didn’t really feel anything at all. Maybe weightlessness, or numbness. It was an absence of some kind. But not in my body—in my mind.”

Corbin shoots a glance at me as she reaches for her cup. I nod back in understanding, quickly typing a note: Obedience by Fleur.

“I knew what I was doing,” she continues. “When I accepted the underwear, they told us what it was, what it would do to us. They called it ‘slave for a week.’ We were each assigned to an upperclassman and had to obey their every command. We didn’t have a choice.”

“Did you feel pressured to accept?” I ask.

Emily bites her lip before answering. “The thing is that this underwear is the hot new thing, right? Everyone around campus is playing with it.”

We’re aware of the stories. We have emails flooding our inbox from concerned parents and right-wing student organizations appalled by a fetish suddenly entering the mainstream. Even Corbin, as hip as she is, has her concerns about the lingerie that mind controls you. Emily is our only first-person testimony, but if people are out there abusing Obedience by Fleur, why would their victims come to us?

“It just seemed like a fun joke, you know? And it's college. We're supposed to fool around.” Emily's gaze darts away for a moment as we consider how to interpret that last sentence. She continues, “A part of me even thought…well, you know, with homework, and papers, and midterms…it’s nice to lose control for a while.”

“I know,” Corbin nods. I wonder how much she does. So much of Corbin is still a mystery to me. “It didn’t stop at slave for a week though, did it?”

Emily shakes her head. She wipes a tear from her cheek. “It isn’t just the underwear. There’s something going on in that house. Every night she takes someone to the basement and when they come back they’re different.”

Corbin straightens up in her chair. I lean forward over my laptop. We’re getting to the details now.

“She?” I repeat.

“Madison,” Emily replies. “Our president. I was too out of it for that first week to notice. Fuck, maybe I did and I just didn’t care. Madison has this power over the sisters. They love her like a mother and fear her like a god. If you look passed the partying and the booze and the bullshit college drama you start to see it: The Alphas aren’t a sorority. They’re a cult.”

Spooky shit. In the distance the weekly Romero air siren test announces that it’s noon on a Wednesday. The sound pulls Corbin from rapt attention. She starts a little. I feel chilly and I look down to see goosebumps on my arms.

Emily raises her voice a little to project over the siren. “I tried to talk to my Big about it. I wanted to know what Madison was doing in the basement. She told me that Madison had a vision for us. She said that I needed to trust in her wisdom. When I said that wasn’t good enough, that I was seriously considering leaving the sorority if I didn’t get a real answer, she said that I was breaking my pledge by asking questions. ‘Good slaves only listen.’”

I don’t know if I say it, or Corbin, or the both of us, but the word just lingers there in the air between the three of us. “Jesus.”

“Weren’t you wearing it?” Corbin asks.

“Yes,” Emily says. “But after a few days…I didn’t like the way it made me feel. Or, I guess, I didn’t like how I felt without it. In the shower, all I could think about was getting it back on, going back under. It’s like an addiction. I couldn’t imagine surviving a whole week. I knew if I kept wearing it, at some point, I’d never be able to walk away. I’d be a slave forever.”

“So how did you stop it?” I ask.

“On the third day, when I was getting dressed for class, I ripped the chip out of the lining of the bra and panties.”

“And that’s when you start asking questions,” Corbin nods.

“Yes,” Emily says. “And I start noticing the pledges. One by one, they’re taken to the basement. They’re gone for hours, my friends. And when they come back, they have that look. The same one all the sisters have when they talk about Madison’s plan. And suddenly they’re interested in his her and serving her vision. I knew that I was running out of time. Sooner or later she would get to me too.”

“So you left,” Corbin says.

“I just walked out in the middle of the night. I left most of my stuff behind.”

“Do you have anywhere to stay?” I ask.

“I have a friend,” Emily says. “She’s from my stats class. Thinks the whole Greek life thing is dumb. Her dorm is cramped, but it’s better than losing my mind.”

I don’t have much, but I offer my couch. Again, she waves it off. “I’m only here to get the word out about Madison. As far as I’m concerned that’s my part, and this is the last I ever plan to talk about it.” She turns her attention away from me and onto Corbin. “Just publish the story, please. To most of us, you’re the only voice that matters.”

Corbin doesn’t know how to take compliments. She squirms a little and makes a sound that I don’t recognize. A laugh? A groan? It stretches for a second too long before segueing into, “Thanks.”

“Thank you,” I smile. “There isn’t a story Corbin can’t blow wide open. I promise this is the last you have to think about the Alphas until you read about it on the blog.”

Sometimes I feel less like an investigator and more like Corbin’s PR team.

We return to Corbin’s apartment to work out the details of the story over lunch. First, we debate pizza. But this will be takeout two days in a row, so Corbin guilts me into making ramen. She watches from the bar overlooking her tiny kitchenette. The noodles are taking their time to boil.

“I wish you hadn’t told her I’d publish the story,” she finally says.

I turn away from the pot to see the expression on Corbin’s face. It’s a look that I recognize, one she only has when she’s about to take the weight of the world onto her shoulders. I’ve tried to remind her that that’s why she hired me. I’m here to lift the burden.

“That’s what you do,” I say. “You publish stories.”

If I'm being honest, the blog is in a rut. It’s been weeks since Corbin’s last story and copycats are popping up around campus. We’re dangerously close to irrelevance. I’m worried about her. I don’t know if she’s losing interest or if it’s something else. The last story, the one about the professor taking favors from students, ended in his garage. Carbon monoxide. Is she doubting her work?

She said that we were lucky that he only hurt himself. Maybe she’s still spooked about the drug dealer. I set a meeting to catch him in the act, met with him face to face. She hated that he knew who I was, that I’d put myself out there like that. It was easy enough getting herself into trouble but now she’d pulled an innocent bystander into her pattern of self-destruction. I had to remind her that I’d volunteered for this.

Whatever it is, something has Corbin on edge. She rubs her face with her hands and I can almost see the anxiety rubbing away. She enters journalist mode.

“She uses the underwear initially to control the new pledges,” she says. “But she needs something more permanent, something that can’t be taken off.”

“Hypnosis?” I ask.

“Maybe,” Corbin nods. “Whatever it is, it takes time. She has a system. A way to break a person and bend them to her will.”

“I bet we’ll find the answer in the basement of that house,” I say.

Corbin is already shaking her head. “Absolutely not,” she says. “A house crawling with brainwashed sorority sisters? I can’t send you into that.”

“Allegedly brainwashed sorority sisters.”

After a bit of back and forth, I reluctantly agree to hold back and wait for more information. Corbin will do her thing—shake some trees and see what turns up. I must have had the conversation with her a dozen times now. I know that she didn’t want to take me on, but she did take me on, and now I’m wasting time on the bench.

I was a sheltered child, youth group weekends and bible camp summers. I didn’t understand the real horrors of the world back then, not until I left for college. I don’t know if it was one thing. Maybe the gender theory classes or the daily campus crime texts, but something awakened inside of me. When I discovered Corbin’s blog, I realized that I couldn’t be silent anymore. I’d spent so many years as a good church girl parroting back opinions like, “If she hadn’t dressed that way,” or “Guilty people don’t run.” It wasn’t just a morbid curiosity for true crime that drove me to Corbin. I wanted to make right with the world.

I don’t push the subject. Instead, we eat our ramen at the breakfast bar and talk about literally anything else. Corbin’s eyes glaze over when I start to speculate about the plan for Marvel’s phase three. She pretends to snooze, begs me to watch “Literally any other movie.” I compare her to an annoying film professor. We laugh. It’s a fun night as long as we avoid the mind controlled elephant in the room.

Stepping out of her apartment, Corbin grabs my arm and looks at me with those serious mom eyes. “Stay away from the Alphas,” she says. “At least until I get some more information.”

“I promise.”

I hop on a bus, and on the ride back to campus I pull up Twitter and start following Alphas. I soon connect with a bubbly blonde named Tina. I tell her that I’m interested in joining her sorority. Pledge season is ending, she says, but there’s never been a better time to be an Alpha. Nice and supportive, just like Emily said. By the time the bus reaches my apartment, Tina’s already invited me out for drinks.

I think about Corbin, my promise. Ask for forgiveness, they say. Go big or go home, or some other cliché.

I quickly send Tina a pair of clinking glasses emojis, then I type, “Where’s the party?”

[amatchinwater]

Pairing: Steo

Characters: Stiles Stilinksi, Theo Raeken, Malia Tate, Scott McCall, Corey Bryant, (Mason Hewitt, Tracy Stewart, Hayden Romero, Josh Diaz are mentioned, but Stiles doesn't remember their names)

Warnings: Memory loss, head trauma, kidnapping, mentions of coma, mentions of a car accident, Stiles is in pain whenever he remembers something (really bad headaches and nausea)

Words: 4511

Prompt: @badthingshappenbingo square for Memory Loss (card at the bottom)

a/n: memories/flashbacks are in italics...I should definitely be sleeping right now.

Missing Pieces (ao3)

---

You know those naps you take in the middle of the day and when you wake up you don’t know what day it is and there’s this moment of haze that you don’t even know where you are? Add in a splitting headache and that’s exactly where Stiles is. Except, there’s no moment of clarity crashing into him when he jolts awake to settle him in comfort realizing this is his bedroom. Stiles doesn’t recognize the bed much less the sheets on it. The room is even less familiar.

What the hell is going on?

Where is he? 

With a groan, Stiles raises a hand to the side of his in hopes to quell the throbbing. Cool metal licks his temple and he jerks his hand away, staring at his fingers. Finding a silver band adorning his ring finger. When the fuck did he get married? Okay, just take a breath. No need to have a panic attack. Surely there’s a reasonable explanation to this. Sleep is still clinging to him a little too hard and once he splashes some cold water on his face, Stiles’ be good as new. You know, just as soon as he remembers how to get to the bathroom. 

At least he seems to be in his own clothes, Stiles notices, throwing plaid sweatpant covered legs out of bed onto dark blue carpet. Did he even have a hand in decorating this place? It doesn’t seem like there’s a single piece of him here. He wouldn’t paint the walls cream. Nor would he have light gray furniture and ugly, yellow bedding. Is that a ‘Live, Laugh, Love,’ canvas hanging above the door? Stiles might throw up before he makes it to the bathroom. 

What is this place? 

Opening the stark white door to the bedroom, Stiles enters the dim hallway. It’s during the day, but no lights are on to show any signs of life other than him. Seeing a staircase to his right and more doors to his left, Stiles chooses the doors at random. The first seems to be an art studio of some sort. Finally, the first thing in this damn house that screams him. He’s always wanted a studio of his own. Maybe the bedroom was pre-furnished and he just hasn’t gotten around to tearing it apart. 

Before he can open the next door, he’s frozen in place by a photo hanging on the wall. It’s a wedding photo. His wedding photo. Next to him is a pretty brunette whose face he almost remembers. Like a tickle in the back of his brain begging for recollection. Wouldn’t he remember his own wedding day? Or the fact that he’s married to begin with? To be quite honest, Stiles can’t even remember graduating high school. But he must have considering he’s living in some house with a ring on his finger. 

But thinking about memories too hard makes his head hurt even more.

Brushing the feeling off for now, Stiles opens the next door, grateful for finding the bathroom. Maybe there’s some pain killers in the medicine cabinet that will help with the pounding in his head. At least the bathroom isn’t as horrendous as the bedroom. A little more modern with a generous sink and a simple black curtain covering the shower. Even better? Extra strength tylenol sits behind the mirror. Without hesitation, Stiles yanks the cap open, popping two in his mouth before sticking his face under the running water to drink them down. 

Splashing the cold liquid on his face, Stiles takes his first calming breath since waking up. Only to look at himself in the mirror and see quite the five o’clock shadow on his cheeks and jaw. He’s been able to grow facial hair since he was seventeen years old. But never, not once, does he ever actually let it grow. An angry growl of his stomach derails his thoughts in finding a razor to rectify the situation. He’s got plenty of time for that later. 

First, food. 

Stepping back into the hallway, Stiles heads downstairs and deeper into this twilight zone of a house. He really wishes that he could remember something. Anything. Thinking too hard about it still makes his head hurt worse and he’d really like the meds to do their job. Along the way, he passes more pictures of himself with the girl- his wife. Jesus, that’s fucking weird to say. Just before he rounds the corner and enters the kitchen, he’s shell-shocked with another picture. It’s been cropped. But the distinct tattoo on the other person’s arm stabs at his brain like an ice pic. Two solid lines on top of one another.  

“Scotty,” Stiles murmurs, brows furrowing. 

His best friend since he was five years old. 

How in the actual hell could he forget Scott? 

“Fuck!” Stiles yells, clutching his head with both hands as his knees buckle, crashing to the hardwood floor enough to hurt. His gaze flickers back and forth, images dancing in his vision. 

We could try Knob Hill…

Or we could wait until we actually get into college and then figure out where we’re going to live.

I have a vision, dude. Don’t mess with the vision.

Him and Scott were making college plans together. So, why doesn’t he remember going through with them? The stabbing sensation behind his eyes lessens enough that Stiles can get back to his feet. Food can wait a second, he needs to find a phone and call his dad. At least that’s one memory that didn’t leave him. There’s a comfort in the fact that Stiles didn’t forget his own father. Searching the thankfully inviting living room, Stiles finds no cell phone or even a laptop. He searches every room in the house only to come up empty handed. He found a charger for a phone, but not the actual device. 

This is getting really irritating. 

His stomach painfully reminds him of his initial goal and Stiles goes back into the kitchen. Wary of literally every opened snack in the cabinets and pantry, he opts for an unopened can of mountain dew from the fridge and a sealed can of spaghetti-o’s from the cabinet. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing. He can’t quite explain it, but something doesn’t feel right. Sitting down at one of the tall, brown bar stools by the granite counter, Stiles digs into his bowl of food. 

Not two mouthfuls later does the front door open. Being able to see it from the counter, Stiles watches as the girl from the pictures enters the house. She smiles the moment she sees him sitting there, “you’re awake!” She hastily closes the door, rushing his direction and throwing her arms around him. Pulling away, the girl kisses him. 

Stiles is so shocked he doesn’t return it. “I’m sorry if this is rude, but, who are you? And where the hell am I?” Just because he’s confused or whatever the hell, doesn’t mean he needs to be rude to this girl. Obviously they have a history. There’s literally photographed proof of that. Stiles just needs a reminder is all. 

The girl's face falls slightly, but she doesn’t seem entirely put off. “I’d hoped they were just being overly cautious. I’m your wife,” she tells him with a warm smile, showing him a small diamond ring on her hand, “Malia.”

Blinding pain wracks his brain again and Stiles drops the spoon into the bowl. Groaning, he clutches his head again. Pinching his eyes closed, he’s taunted with more fuzzy visions. 

I can’t do this anymore, I’m sorry.

Stiles, please, don’t do this. You don’t mean it. I can’t do this without you.

I’m sorry, Malia. We’re done. 

If they broke up, then why are they married? Surely they wouldn’t be the first couple to break up and get back together. But still. If the gaps in his memory could fill a little faster, that’d be great. Stiles would really like this unsettling feeling to go away. 

“You were in a car accident and suffered a head trauma, so you’ll probably have a lot of headaches. You were in a coma for two months.” Malia sits down in the stool next to him, “last week you woke up, but then went right back to sleep. The doctors said you were healed enough that I could take you home, but that there might be some gaps in your memory once you stopped going in and out.” 

“And how long have I been doing that?” Stiles asks, trying to blink the pain from his skull. “Going in and out, I mean.”

Malia purses her lips in thought, “just shy of two weeks.” Stiles scratches the stubble on his jaw, contemplating her words. “Sorry about that,” she gestures towards his face. I was too worried to try and shave it in your sleep. If it helps at all, I think you look pretty cute, angel.”

That name. That name scratches the back of his brain something fierce.  

“Right,” Stiles says, nauseous all of a sudden. “I think-” he takes a deep breath, pasta and meatballs threatening to come back up. “I think I’m going to go lay back down.” 

“I can take some of your pain, if you think it would help,” Malia offers, grabbing his hand gently. Black veins appear on her skin, rippling and the nausea subsides. Stiles’ eyes grow wide and he yanks his hand away. “Stiles?” He jolts out of the stool, staggering on his feet. “Stiles, what’s wrong?” 

He doesn’t get to answer. His vision blackening and consciousness fading away. 

You’re not a monster, you’re a werewolf.

I’m a thousand years old, you can’t kill me!

What are you?

Better?

I came back for you. 

You can’t say anything. Stiles, please, don’t say anything. 

Heartbeat’s rising, Stiles. Am I getting to you that much? You can tell me, if it’s too much, you know. I don’t want to push you too quickly. 

When were you going to tell me that you two got together?

As soon as I figured out how to word it, Scotty. 

I’m not upset or anything. I just want you to be happy, that’s all. 

He does make me happy. 

He. He makes me happy. Not her. He. Stiles blinks open bleary eyes, finding himself in the same ridiculous bedroom. He either wasn’t out for very long, or he slept well into the next day. Were those dreams or were they memories? Stiles can’t tell. But that face. Dark brown hair and beautiful blue eyes telling him that he came back for Stiles. Surely that’s not a face that Stiles’ imagination can just conjure up, right? 

No. That’s not right at all. The brain can do many incredible things. But while dreaming, it can’t simply create new faces. Even if you’ve only seen one in passing, it can throw it into a dream. Pairing that with the conversation with Scott and the Nogitsune, something is seriously wrong here. Yanking the covers off, Stiles ignores the pain in his head and rushes out of the room to find the pictures of him and Malia. Upon closer inspection, the space around their necks is blurred. Like they’d been poorly photoshopped on the bodies. 

They’re fake. 

Stiles screams, falling to the floor again. Forehead to the cold, wooden floor he takes deep breaths, trying to stop the visions, but they come full force. Clearer than before, but still pretty splotchy. Not even the dream about Scott being a werewolf or all of the other supernatural bullshit he’s dealt with hurt this badly. 

“I can’t let you do this,” Malia growls, eyes swimming with unshed tears. 

Stiles scoffs, “there isn’t any letting me do this. You don’t control me, Malia. We’re not together anymore. We haven’t been for months! Why can’t you just let me be happy? Even Scott doesn’t have a problem with this. And if anyone should, it’s him!”

“Because, Stiles,” the coyote snarls, “you should be happy with me. So if I can’t have you, no one can! Definitely not your little mutt either,” Malia rushes him, bashing him upside the head so hard that it knocks Stiles out cold. 

Tears spill from Stiles’ eyes as he stays on the floor. Malia kidnapped him. She- she attacked him! He has to get out of here. But how? There’s no phone to call for help. No laptop to try and email someone. Maybe her car isn’t the only one here? Stiles gets up on shaky legs, hobbling down the stairs. Feet firmly planted on the ground floor, the human dashes through the kitchen, yanking open the door that’s hopefully for the garage. But when he opens it, he’s met with boxes and storage containers. No other vehicle in sight. 

“Dammit!” Stiles curses, slamming the door closed. “Come on, Stilinski, you’re the son of a sheriff for fuck’s sake. You can figure this out. All you need is a phone.” He paces the kitchen, thinking of his next move. There’s no way he can take a werecoyote head on. No way. Surely there’s something he can do. Running isn’t exactly the smartest option, he hasn’t got the slightest clue where he is. He’d sooner end up dead in the woods surrounding this house than anywhere near civilization. 

Maybe, Malia will take him into town and he can get some help that way. But how? What’s a good enough reason that she won’t suspect something is wrong? Telling her flat out he wants a phone is just a surefire way of raising all kinds of red flags with the coyote. But she did seem worried when he winced because his head hurt. Maybe…that’s it!

Stiles bolts back up the stairs and into the bathroom. Jerking the medicine cabinet open, the human grabs the bottle of painkillers. Without a second thought, he pops open the cap and dumps the contents in the toilet. Flushing it and watching as the little red pills swirl in the water and down the drain. Now, he just has to wait for Malia to come home. 

God, this better work. 

From the fragments of his memory trickling back, someone he’d called Peter had taught him how to steady his heart while lying to a supernatural creature. Peter, whoever the hell you are, thank you. You might just save Stiles. Heading back to the living room, he grabs one of the books off the shelf that he’s read countless times and opens to a random page, setting the empty medicine bottle on the side table. Making it seem like he’s been sitting here reading all day rather than plotting his escape. A few chapters later, just as Luce is about to stretch one of the black blobs into a portal, the front door opens. 

Where does she keep going that she always comes back empty handed? You’d think for someone trying to keep someone kidnapped, they wouldn’t leave the house so much. Maybe he should’ve tried his luck running.

“Oh, good, I was worried you’d still be asleep,” the coyote smiles at him. Coming over to sit beside him on the couch, Malia lifts his legs into her lap, gently stroking his shin. He so badly wants to yank himself away. “How are you feeling? Anything come back to you today?” 

Stiles can hear the trepidation in her voice, like she’s concerned he remembers everything. While the human remembers the important stuff, he’s not about to tell her that. So he shakes his head, “nothing major, just a few things. My head hurts pretty badly though,” he offers, pointing to the painkillers beside him. “But I ran out of meds.” 

“Oh no, you poor thing,” Malia says, “let me head out, I’ll go get you some more.”

The coyote tries to get up, but Stiles stops her, “no!” Malia’s eyebrows raise in question. “Uh, I-” the human clears his throat, trying to remain calm. Aloof. Nothing suspicious going on here. “I was hoping that I could go with you. Get some fresh air. Might help with the headache, you know?”

Malia doesn’t look convinced, “aren’t you afraid of being back in a car so soon?”

"You taught me to face my fears," Stiles says, willing his heart to remain steady. He’s also not really lying. He’s scared as hell but still going head first. 

"I did?" 

"Yeah!" The human smiles, trying to seem excited and genuine. "By going after your mom, you taught me that even if something scares you, you should do it anyway because you'll come out stronger. Just like you did." 

“Oh, honey,” Malia coos, lifting his hand to kiss his knuckles. “Okay. Go on and get changed and we’ll head into town, okay?” 

Stiles smiles, not showing too much excitement at her agreement, “thank you.” When he gets up from the couch, he pushes further and kisses her on top of her head. Hopefully that kills any doubt the coyote might possess. 

---

Calling this place a town is generous. Might as well be a village. The town limit sign they passed said the population was 138. That’s not a lot of people at all. Actually, that might work in his favor. With that few people living here, maybe there’s a chance that it’s one of those everyone knows everyone sort of deals. And them just randomly showing up will raise enough suspicion. At least that's his hope. 

It was a task in and of itself to get Malia to let him go inside with her. The coyote is clutching his hand almost painfully as they walk down the aisle for the needed medicine. Stiles grabs a few things along the way. Like a soda, a random candy and a bag of chips. Malia simply smiles at him as he makes his choices. Good, believe that he’s making the most out of this little impromptu trip. Grabbing the bottle of medicine, the coyote all but drags him towards the checkout area. 

So much for stalling. 

What’s the thing all the videos on the internet say? Blink twice if you’re in trouble? Surely that’s just a joke to them, but maybe it will actually work in his favor. 

“Aww, aren’t you two just cute?” The dark skinned woman at the counter beams at them. “You just passing through?” 

Stiles pointedly blinks twice. Earning him a strange look from Angela, so her name tag reads. 

“No,” Malia gruffs, “we live up the hill.” 

“The old Jameson place?” Angela smiles, “that’s a lovely property.” Stiles blinks twice again. “You okay, hon?” 

No. 

“He’s fine,” Malia speaks for him. “Can we just get the medicine, please? He has a headache.” 

“Sure thing,” the clerk oozes with faux niceness. Her customer service voice is in full swing though Stiles can see the irritation in her brown eyes. “Anything else?” 

“No,” the coyote clips, swiping her card, not bothering to look at the total. Before Angela can say anything else, Malia snatches the bag and yanks Stiles away. 

Help me, Stiles mouths at the woman, but Angela just looks confused. Shit, shit, shit. This was his one shot! His only chance of getting out of this! 

“Hey, can we go get some food?” Stiles asks, pointing at the diner across the street. “I’m hungry,” the human says. Maybe he can make a break for it in the bathroom. Write a coded message in his fucking ketchup. Something. 

Malia looks over his shoulder and growls deeply. “There’s food at home,” she gruffs, shoving him towards the car. 

“Malia, wa-”

“Stiles?” A male’s voice calls. Stiles whips his head around seeing the boy who keeps showing up in the flickers of his memory. He’s with three other boys and two girls. All look worried and almost relieved seeing him. “Stiles!” He yells, once his blue eyes lock with the human, his footsteps picking up pace in their direction. 

White hot pain splinters Stiles’ skull.

“Theo, are you sure?” Stiles asks, though he can’t hide the smile pulling at his lips. 

“The Beast is dead, the Dread Doctors are gone, and you’re finally fucking safe,” the chimera grins. “I’m more than sure,” his red eyes flicker for a second. “There’s nothing I want more than you.” 

“But-”

“Do you trust me?” Theo asks, grabbing both of Stiles’ hands, rubbing his knuckles. Rain sprinkles around them as they stand on the outskirts of the preserve fresh from a fight. 

“You know I do,” Stiles whispers. He hasn’t had any mistrust for the chimera for a long time now. 

The Alpha smiles brightly, rain getting harder, “then say you’ll be my boyfriend.” 

“Okay,” Stiles agrees, his smile broken from Theo’s lips crashing against his as the sky pours around them. Soaking them to the bone, but neither boy cares. They finally have each other. 

“Let’s go,” Malia snarls, trying to drag Stiles away and closer to her car. 

Stiles tries to pull her hand off, grunting, “no.”

“Stiles!” Theo yells again, hastily following after, his pack hot on his heels. “Miecz, wait!”

The human trips over his feet, the name shooting sparks in his brain, blinding his vision with more memories. Faster and in quick succession. So much cycling through his head, it makes Stiles dizzy. He’s going to throw up if this doesn’t stop soon. Until one final memory comes into sharp focus. 

The chimera curls closer to him in bed, rumbling softly in his chest as Theo nuzzles into him. “You know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, right?” The Alpha asks, placing a kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck. “I’d follow you anywhere,” he says. At least when Theo says it, it sounds reassuring and sweet. 

Not stalker-ish like Malia.

“Yeah,” he whispers, thinking back to earlier in the day when Theo had to kill Donovan. The Doctors had revived him and he’d been in hiding for months. Waiting for the perfect time to strike. Just when everyone was thinking things were finally calming down again was definitely the right time. They almost lost so many people, Stiles included. “Thank you for saving me.”

“I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again,” the chimera assures him. “Anything, Miecz, I mean it. I’d put a ring on your finger right now if you’d let me just to prove it to you.”

The human sputters out a laugh, “yeah, right.” 

“You think I’m kidding?”

“A little bit, actually, yeah,” Stiles turns in bed to face the Alpha. 

“Haven’t you learned by now not to underestimate me?” Theo smirks, releasing his hold on Stiles to get out of bed. Digging around in his nightstand, the chimera produces a small black box with a little purple ribbon. “I was saving this for after graduation,” he explains and Stiles bolts up into a sitting position. Theo drops to one knee, “Mieczysław, I love you more than anything in this world,” glassy blue eyes look up at him. “Will you marry me?” 

Stiles’ breath hitches in his chest, the chimera opening the box to reveal a simple silver band. “Yes, Theo, yes!” He exclaims, flinging himself off the bed and into the Alpha’s arms. “I love you so much, Theo!” Slamming his mouth into the other boy’s mouth, Stiles can’t stop giggling. 

When he finally pulls away, Theo grabs the ring from the box, “I got in engraved with our initials.” Tilting the band, sure enough there’s an S and T with a heart beside it. “There,” the Alpha smiles softly, sliding the rind onto the human’s finger. “I love you, Miecz.”

“I love you too, Theo.”

“Tracy, stop her,” Theo growls, eyes burning red only a few paces away from them. Malia dragging Stiles as he desperately fights against her hold. Why are there no people on this fucking street? The pair slams into them. In their haste, Stiles ends up encased in the Alpha’s arms while the coyote falls to the ground, unable to move. The human narrowly missed her claws in the scuffle.

“What did you do to her?” Stiles asks, “is she a kanima?” 

“You don’t remember?” Theo pauses for just a moment and the human shakes his head no with teary eyes. “I promise, I’ll explain everything, just let me get you safe first, okay?” Theo asks, scooping Stiles into his arms. “Corey,” the chimera calls, one of the boys rushing to their sides, “get us out of here.” 

Suddenly, the world has a green hue to it. Stiles is so confused, his head throbbing painfully as more memories flash behind his pinched eyes. The ring on his hand was never from Malia, but Theo. Saving Scott from trying to kill himself with gasoline and a road flare. “It’s all coming back. My head,” Stiles groans, curling into Theo’s chest as he cries from the pain. From the recollection of his life coming back. “I’m so sorry, Theo.” 

The Alpha shushes him softly, whisking him away from the scene. The two boys following behind them while the girls stay with Malia. “It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s not your fault, angel. I’m going to keep you safe, okay?” 

“It hurts,” Stiles sobs into the chimera, fingers aching with how tightly he’s clinging to Theo’s jacket. “Theo, it hurts,” he whines, shaking from the pain.

The Alpha adjusts his hold, wrapping his hand around Stiles’ exposed wrist, “better?” He asks and the human can feel the pulling sensation of pain being taken. Knowing for certain if he looked down, there’d be black veins on Theo’s hand. Stiles nods tiredly. “I’m taking you home.”

“No,” Stiles panics, jerking in the chimera’s arms, “please, I don’t want to go back there.” 

“Hey, hey,” Theo brushes their noses together, speaking softly. “Our home,” the chimera corrects. “You never have to see whatever place she had you in ever again. Unless you’d like to go back and burn it down. I wouldn’t be opposed to that idea. Preferably with her inside of it,” Theo growls, his eyes flashing red in his anger. 

Stiles’ heart slows back down, anxiety washing away at his actual fiance’s words. “She hit me really hard,” he explains. “I still don’t remember everything, but it’s coming back in pieces.” 

“We’ll see if Deaton has a way to fix that when we get back, okay?” Theo assures him. “But first, we have to get you out of here and get you to your dad. He’s been going crazy without you.” 

“Thank you,” Stiles mutters into the Alpha’s neck.

“For what?” 

“For saving me.” 

“I told you,” Theo chuckles softly, holding him tighter, “there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you, Miecz. Get some rest, we’re almost to the car. You’ll be home soon.” 

Stiles doesn’t hear much after the nickname, falling asleep in his Alpha’s arms. His memories might not be fully intact, but he has enough recollection of Theo to know that it’s going to be okay. That even if they don’t fully come back, his Alpha isn’t going anywhere. For now, he’ll sleep. 

Safe for the first time in months.