#puts them into the boiler!!

[chownkiies]

Shopp(lift)ing

Closeups!! Bc it's too long :(

[lesbin]

no hot shower for me tonight. but i will be channelling my inner medieval peasant and heating various pans of water on the hob for a bath.

[heartbeetz]

I definitely didn't piece it together at first bc there are too many other noises in-game (and I was more focused on the timer sounds), but ever since I did, I've always loooooveed the mimicry of muscle car engine noises in the happy hour theme. Soooo fun. I eat that kind of shit up. Pointing and going "game I like and vehicles I like crossover!!!" akshfkdjf

[arolesbianism]

Starting a new oni save that's not a rime colony for the first time in forever and I am in agony how do y'all live like this (shaking and crying as it is forced to enter a mildly warm area for drekos)

[8lyme]

Heat Rises

Logan Howlett x f!Reader

SUMMARY: The mansion is boiling hot

WARNINGS: excessive use of italicisation, borderline dirty thoughts, makeout scene bc that's the best i can do, maybe ooc bc I fear I imagine Logan a little funnier than he actually is.

a/n: the ac in my room broke and inspiration struck after I doomscrolled through wolverine edits on tiktok ... chat i love men

It was hot. Boiling. Stifling.

You woke up at 2 a.m. drenched in sweat, sucking in a deep breath of hot, stale air. Grogginess fading, you stumble from your bed while pulling of your shirt and pajama pants. You open the door to the bathroom and turn the cold water on in the sink.

The heat was dripping down your back despite your lack of clothing. Overheating and still half-asleep, you stuck your head into the stream of cold water, splashing over your neck and across your shoulders.

You straighten to tie your hair up before turning the water off and running your still cold hands down your arms. The patter of thudding sounded outside your door, and you move to dress in a thin tank top and shorts.

You let your eyes adjust to the light as you began walking down the hallway of the mansion. A few children slipped out of their rooms in similar sweaty conditions to follow you down the staircase and onto the main floor.

Gathered by the professor's office were Scott, Storm, and Jean. The stray young mutants who trailed you settling around them.

"Goodmorning," You call out the the group.

"Do you know who turned this place into a boiler?" Jean asks. You both swipe sweat off your foreheads in sync while you shrug, shaking your head.

"Jesus, my glasses are gonna slide off my face," Scott complains, knocking his head against the wall in exasperation. He was shirtless, (rightfully so) wearing what you guessed were swim trunks.

"Charles is working on it," Jean put a hand on his shoulder, then quickly removing it to wipe his sweat off her hand and down the wall.

You turn to Storm, who was pulling the fabric of her tank top to fan herself off.

"Do we know where Bobby is?" You ask in search of the Iceman. You turned to scan the room, addressing the three students who followed you.

"Pretty sure him and Rogue took off before lights out," a young girl from the floor calls out. Her mutation rubberized her molecules, and her legs were in misshapen puddles - akin to flat stanley - due to the heat.

"Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here," a familiar voice groans loudly from behind you. "Nice shorts." Logan said to you before reaching your side.

"Alright fashion police," you respond in mock annoyance, offering a small smile at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He shot you a wink before turning away. When you caught full sight of him, your face froze and (if possible) more sweat rolled down your spine.

It was sickening how attractive he managed to look in what felt like the inside of an air fryer. Having clearly just woken up, his hair was perfectly tousled into a messier version of his normal tufts. His hair hardly looked damp despite the oiled-up glow he had on his face ...

And torso.

Fuck he was shirtless.

Although you've known Logan for the better part of a year, you unfortunately failed to experience him half-dressed. You'd been in close proximity frequently - sparring and other various training taking a large percent of that. You were friendly with each other, his acknowledgement of you with a nod whenever you walked in a room affirming he didn't hate you. You normally ate breakfast together, often offering the other the last portion of cereal or setting aside an extra cup of coffee for whoever entered the kitchen second. Within the last few months, however, after a particularly unfortunate mission gone wrong in almost every way, your friendship became more affectionate in those 'off the clock' moments.

Quick but firm hugs, slinging his arm over your shoulders, nudging each other with elbows or hips at inside jokes. He'd also been placing a hand on your back or shoulder every time he was in proximity to do so when moving behind you; in the kitchen, during briefings, even while you were grading papers in the library. He would touch your shoulder to let you know he was moving past you or going to sit next to you.

All that is to say you were aware - in theory - he was well built. He was taller and broader than you, so you made an educated guess. Theory proven, but well beyond expectations.

A month ago, you and Scott had stopped at a Texas Roadhouse an hour outside of the city after having spent two weeks clearing out a mutant experimentation lab in eastern Quebec. The plump and shine of the appetizer rolls (that you and Scott had both equally asked for seconds of) had absolutely nothing on Logan.

He damn near glistened. The dim light of the mansion sconces bronzed his skin, cutting him into an even more defined picture for you to look at. His chest expanded with each breath, shoulders and pecs slightly flexing in response. His hands lazed on his hips, if even possible causing the room's shadows to shade in the dips of his biceps and forearms. The veins of his arms just barely covered by the moisture-slicked hair covering his skin. If you had a fork and knife, you would throw them behind you to happily eat a piece of him with your hands.

You had to force yourself to swallow to shock your brain into looking anywhere else. You made an 'eaugh' sound and swiped your hands across your face. You meant it defensively, but you really were dripping into your eyes.

"I feel like I'm being waterboarded," you say disgustedly while wiping your palms on the back of your shorts. Feeling a texture that wasn't fabric, you turned your head. Glancing down, you understood Logan's earlier comment.

These shorts must have been from your freshman year of high school that somehow never got tossed or donated. They were a pair of (very) short, low-cut and dull pink velour Juicy Couture shorts with the word 'Juicy' spelled out in rhinestones on the ass. You actually felt like hurling as your body got even hotter.

You slowly turned your face away from the glittery stones on your booty to unfortunately glance in Scott's direction. His hands covering his mouth to block how obviously he was holding in a laugh.

"Scott, don't even look at me right now," you groan in exasperation, crossing your arms over yourself in attempted modesty. Scott's eyes glitter, and you snap "Keep your mouth shut" at him to no avail.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass?" He snickers. "In rhinestones?"

He's cracking up now with his hands in fists over his mouth. Jean bites a smile away and looks down, shaking to stifle a giggle. You look across the room to the kids who are choking down laughter themselves.

"Oh my fucking God-uh!" you again groan out, covering your eyes. "I really liked Jersey Shore when I was in High School, guys, leave me alone!"

Storm bursts into a laugh that inspires the others to join in. You're cracking up too, mortification disappearing. You glance at Logan through your fingers, who surprisingly seems to be choking back a laugh himself.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan clears his throat. "Save her from embarrassment?"

"Not how it works," She says. "I can't pull cold air or moisture out of this heat to create any snow." She looks at you and winks. "Sorry J-Wow, the shorts are staying on."

Scott about keels over with a snort before Jean thwaps him in the shoulder.

"If we bring you enough bags of ice, could you use that to cool the building down then?" Jean asks.

"In theory," Storm says. "I can stay here with the students to wait for the professor if you all don't mind searching for some. I'll need to conserve energy if I have to create a blizzard out of thin air."

"Copy. Divide and conquer," you say glancing at Logan again. The four of you turn to wander the mansion, but you stop to turn back to Storm.

"Also," you call back to her. "I'm so obviously Snooki."

Scott barks a laugh from the other corridor as you trot after Logan. He turns to meet you with a confused look on his face.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

Logan daydreamed about upper-cutting Scott with his claws unsheathed. He fantasized about throwing him down the stairs and curb-stomping him after. He imagined speeding over him on his own motorcycle and drilling him into the asphalt.

Right now, as your face flushed with embarrassment over your bedazzled booty shorts, he wished he had enacted any of those in reality so he had never, ever, heard Scott say a word about your ass.

Logan was used to waking up in a sweat, heart racing as he yelled out in anger (or fear, he couldn't tell which) from the nightmare that slipped from him the longer his eyes were open.

This time, he awoke uncomfortably hot and sprawled out diagonally above his sheets. He pushed himself up onto his knees and rubbed his eyes. He took a beat to wake himself up and stared at the clock on his nightstand blinking at 2:00 am.

He found it impossibly hotter in the hallway, swiping his palms on his pants every few steps. He regretted not scouring his room for shorts or even a pair of briefs. He moved down the stairs and rounded, following the sound of conversation. He dragged his sweaty palms across his pants again, groaning out; "Christ, it's fuckin' hot in here".

And then he almost tripped over his own feet.

You stood facing away from him, hands clasped on top of your head, in the tiniest clothing humanly possible. You wore a thin, strappy little yellow tank top that ghosted just under your ribs. In the dimmed lighting, your skin glistened, droplets of sweat gliding down your neck, your spine - fucking hell, was your sweat turning him on? - down your lower back, and -

Logan just about stopped in his tracks.

Impossibly tiny pink shorts clung to your ass, riding low on your hips. In glittering rhinestone, the word Juicy was bedazzled over the fabric. He felt like a dumb moth to a flame, trying to look like he wasn't seconds away from using his hands for some workplace misconduct.

"Nice shorts," he managed, trying to shake his head clear.

"Alright fashion police," you smirked up at him. "Didn't know you worked this late."

He winked at you, turning away to avoid staring at the beads sliding down your collar bone. Trying even harder to not imagine where the droplets would travel next.

Too focused on thinking about anything else in the world other than you, he blinked back into reality after Scott's voice grated his ears.

"Do your shorts say Juicy on your ass? In rhinestones?"

Whatever you or anyone else responds with falls on his deaf ears. The only thing he can hear is the pounding of his heart and the rush of blood. His face tightened and he clenched his jaw.

He coughed to clear his head and interject into whatever conversation he's too furious to tune in to.

"Storm, can't you make it snow or something to-", Logan paused, coughing again to catch himself from saying anything related to freezing Scott solid so he can shatter him to pieces. He settled on "Save her from embarrassment?"

Once again, Logan half-listened and half-internally plotted extreme violence, perking back in at the sound of your voice. He turned to you as you catch up with him.

"What the fuck is a Snooki?"

---

You declined to continue to explain trash TV to Logan. You settled on "It's entertaining to watch people be out of touch with reality", to which he quipped back a "That's stupid", effectively shutting you up.

The both of you wandered to the kitchen, you fanning yourself as Logan tried not to burst a blood vessel while holding to his willpower to not watch you tilt your head back and exhale while uttering whines of complaint. He decided the amount that his was sweating coupled with the lack of sleep made him delusional. That's why his brain kept trailing back to the same thought: you.

You pulled open the bottom drawer of the fridge, exposing the freezer. The rush of cool air fanned at your skin, and you signed in relief.

"Logan," you call, eyes closed. You waved him over and he leaned next to you.

"Oh my god," he quietly uttered out, eyes closing in relief. "Oh my god, this is better than sex."

You snorted and slapped your hand to your mouth.

"Logan, shut the fuck up" you giggle. He snickers back with you, shoulders shaking.

"Aw man," you groan, staring into the freezer drawer. Inside, there was an empty popsicle box, an half-eaten pint of strawberry ice cream, and an unwrapped ice-cream sandwich with freezer burn. You and Logan met each other's eyes with matching disappointed expressions.

You shut the freezer drawer, straightening up.

"I think there's a freezer in the basement lab," Logan says, sweat instantly beginning to drip down his neck.

"Aw man," you respond, lifting your arms slightly as sweat slides down you as well.

"Come on, bub," He moves around behind you. You feel the familiar ghost of his fingers against your back, but you recoil away at the thought of more heat against your body.

Logan yanked his hand away like he had been burned, gaze raking from you to his hand. You keep walking, not realizing how far behind you he's trailing.

---

He tries to shake it off, he really does. He feels stupid for letting something so small seep into his head and twist his thoughts around.

It's just because it's hot, he thinks to himself. Rationally, yes, he knows that is the answer. And yet he stupidly can't help but overthink every interaction he's had with you.

He masks it with a stony expression. The walk to the elevator is sticky and humid. When you both step in, he strays as far away from you as he can.

You've felt the shift in energy from him. He's pressed against the curved wall, arms crossed over his chest. It's palpable, but you aren't the type to pry when Logan is brooding.

He slips out of the opening doors first, relinquishing in the slightly cooler air of the lab. You trail after.

The air is awkward now. You fumble in your brain for the right words to say to him. 'Are you okay?' doesn't seem to cut it.

You've come to understand Logan. He has a complicated relationship with feelings and is awful at communication. If you don't notice the energy shift and bring it up, it isn't getting spoken about.

You follow him to a white metal crate pressed near a cabinet of saline. It's clasped shut and luckily on wheels. The precipitation on the outside confirming this is what you were looking for.

You place your hands on the corners of the crate to slide it from the wall, but Logan damn near rips it out of your hands. He shoves it across the lab towards the elevator.

You stare at him in shock and confusion. Your thoughts whir as you replay every moment from the entire day, convinced that he's pissed at you. He seems pissed. He's acting pissed.

You reach the elevator just as the door slides open. You're trying to decide if you should say something. Trying to think of a way to approach this in a way that will actually get him to talk. The air in the elevator is thick, more so with his shift in attitude than with heat.

Logan is locking himself inside his head. He can’t organize his thoughts and all he feels is stupidity. He can't understand why he's over analyzing, much less what he's over analyzing.

He doesn't know it's basically radiating off of him. Unaware that you've been staring at him to try and decipher what's wrong.

You utter out "Are you okay?" just to cut through the thick silence (and hopefully the wall he's locked himself in). You're sure he hears you, but the sliding of the door gives him the perfect opportunity to continue to ignore you.

Again, you trail after him. The wheels scrape against the hardwood, a testament to how hard he is pressing into the metal.

You're confused, sweaty, and almost on the verge of nonconsensual tears when you reach Storm and the other kids. The girl from the floor has turned into mostly puddle. Everything besides the tip of her shoulders and up are deflated to the wood. The other kids have spread to the floor themselves.

Logan shoves the crate towards Storm.

"Alright," he says curtly, once again crossing his arms. "Cool this shit down."

You fiddle with your fingers as Storm unlatches the metal. Her eyes gloss over to a milky white while she lifts the lid. The temperature drops almost instantly, and you begin to shiver.

"Done," She says, blinking away the glaze. "Charles said that-"

"Great," Logan cuts her off with a slam of the metal lid. He slides it around before moving back towards the elevator. You glance back and forth between Storm and Logan for a second. When you meet her confused expression, she gestures back towards him.

Ignoring the comfort of your sheets and lack of emotional drainage, you jog after Logan.

---

He huffs at you when you reach his side.

"I can push a metal box by myself," he says dismissively.

"Okay," you say, just to get something in the air. "Am I not allowed to come with you?"

You regret even speaking anyways as he scoffs at you, kicking the crate into the opening of the sliding door. It hits the wall with a loud clang. You flinch, but you're more concerned about him to not slip into the door at the last second.

You hug yourself as you start to shiver. Logan rolls his eyes, crosses his arms, and turns away from you to lean against the wall. For the third time tonight.

You are racking your brain. Screaming at yourself to say something, literally any words at all. It feels like you've been panic-searching your thoughts for anything to say for a while.

"Are we not moving?" You ask. You wait for an answer before repeating, calling him by name and moving to stand in front of him.

He huffs before standing straight. After a beat, he says "We're not."

"Shit, how should we -" You start, but are cut of by the metallic unsheathing of Logan's Claws. In a blur he rears back and slices through the door, scraping three parallel lines across the metal.

"Jesus Christ, Logan!" You snap out at him. The glare he gives you while his claws sink into his skin makes you back up into the wall.

"What the hell is your problem?" you say evenly.

He scoffs at you, muttering out "Don't know what you're talking about."

"You just sliced the wall open," You point out, gesturing to said wall. "And you're acting like you're pissed at me"

"You're imagining things," he says back, resuming his position against the wall with his arms folded.

"Oh, that's bullshit. You're literally sulking in the corner and you want to tell me that isn't happening."

Logan stays silent. You almost expect him to turn into the wall so he can pretend to not see you.

"Logan," you say, trying to catch his eyes. "Why can't you be upfront with me? It's very easy to say 'Hey, you pissed me off because of this' or 'Oh, something sparked a bad memory' or, I don't know, 'I don't want to talk about it' "

"I don't want to talk about it," he responds. You smack the back of your head into the wall behind you in exasperation.

"Oh my god, obviously that was just an example. Please just tell me what's wrong."

Logan raises his eyes to meet yours for just a second. You catch his gaze, and you can tell that he wants to tell you. When you quietly say his name he looks away.

"Logan, you’re being mean." Your eyes flick over him, trying to catch any more indication that he'll open up. He stays stoick, stubborn piece of shit. You decide to wait just a moment longer before giving up. If he's going to be this adamant about whatever happened, you aren't about to keep fighting him on it.

"Okay, you’re pissing me off and I give up" You spit, sinking to the floor. You draw your legs up and fold into yourself, the chill of the room sinking into your skin.

It takes a long, awkward amount of time sitting in silence before you her Logan speak.

"You're cold," he states.

"No, I'm not," you say into your arms. Shivering.

"You look cold," he once again states plainly.

"I'm not, stop talking to me."

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Logan retorts at you. You look up at him over your arms, seeing a smug look on his face.

"Yeah, if the words you say are 'Hey, I'm sorry I'm being a dickhead and shoving stuff around and slicing into walls and ignoring you. I'm just thinking about X,Y and Z, which is making me feel X,Y and Z,' and then I would say 'Oh my gosh Logan, I had no idea! I'm so sorry, I wish you told me so I didn't make a big deal out of it because I thought you hated me!" You snap at him, mocking his voice for emphasis.

He blinks at you, and you move your head back into your arms.

"I don't hate you," he says quietly.

"You're acting like it."

"I don't."

The softness in his voice makes you sigh. You decide to take it easy on him, and ask him to come to you.

"What?" he asks, hesitation evident in his tone.

"Can you come sit next to me, please?" You ask softly.

"Why?" he asks, and you roll your eyes.

"Because I'm cold and you run much warmer than I do."

He moves and sinks down beside you, thankfully. You scooch closer until your arm is against his. The warmth of his body radiates against yours.

"Can you please talk to me?" you break the silence. The smallness in your voice chips away at his resolve, but his pride is still in the way. He's embarrassed enough about being upset in the first place, he can hardly stand (much less find the words) to say anything to you.

"Look, I'll literally cover my eyes so I'm not even looking at you," you offer, covering your eyes with your palms. "Please, just tell me."

"It's stupid," Logan says, pride dwindling down.

"I don't care, I promise. Please, Logan," You plead.

He sighs loudly, searching for the right words. He stutters out a few syllables before managing a sentence.

"In the kitchen earlier, you flinched away from me. I don't know. Didn't feel great."

Your hands dropped from your face. He was staring down at the floor. He looked embarrassed, maybe downright ashamed. You gently placed a hand on his arm.

"Logan, I'm sorry. It was just so hot and I felt all gross and sweaty. I didn't mean anything by it, I swear."

"Okay," he says, but his eyes never left the floor.

"And that's not stupid. I freak out over the tiniest things in the world."

"Yeah?" he huffs out a small laugh, finally turning to you.

"Yes, duh, I'm a girl. One time you didn't sit in the stool right next to me and I had to suck my tears back in and I thought about it for two days straight," you told him.

"Because I didn't sit next to you?" he teases, and you push off of his arm in mock annoyance.

"Yes, I'm not kidding. I remember once when you came back from a mission you ignored me when I said 'hi' to you on the stairs and locked yourself in your room for almost two days. I was genuinely convinced you wanted me dead and I couldn't function until you'd brought me toast because you thought I was sick."

"You weren't sick?" He raises an eyebrow at you.

"No! I thought you wanted me to jump into oncoming traffic!" You laugh at yourself, feeling ridiculous after replaying those few days back in your head.

"Okay, okay, I get what you mean. I don't want you dead, by the way. Never will." His face has relaxed and the tension in the air completely dissipated. You tilted to rest your head on his shoulder, relishing in his body heat and enjoying the comfortable silence.

"Seems like I get you pretty worked up, huh?" Logan smiles to himself, knowing he'll get a rise out of you.

"I'm not answering that," you snort, giving him a side eye.

"Are you kidding me?" He says in a deadpan.

"No! I'm not answering that," you sputter, forcing an even tone out of yourself. "Why'd you get so upset about me moving away from you?" You shoot back.

"I'm not answering that," he says, and you now shove him away jokingly.

"Oh, come on!"

You both start to giggle at each other, needing to look at anywhere except at the other. Weight has been lifted off both of your chests, being stuck in the elevator long forgotten.

"So," Logan speaks, letting the word hang in the air for a second. He wonders if the feelings he's completely sure are mutual should remain unspoken. "Are either of us gonna do anything about," he gestures to the both of you. "Or..."

"Oh man, I was wondering which one of us was going to take the bait first," you giggle out to mask the nervousness settling in your chest. "You almost had me, I never figured you'd say anything."

"Did I?" He asks. You turn to him and meet his gaze, smirking at him. You hum happily after a few seconds, turning away from him to lean on his arm once more.

"So," Logan says again, so you mock him and echo the word back.

"So," he tries again, obviously wanting a certain response from you. You bite, looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

"Oh my god, you can just kiss me. I'm cold, I'm not moving my arms," you say to him, earning a short laugh from him.

Logan moves and scoops you into him, sandwiching your arms between both your bodies. You slide one of your hands up him so that your fingertips reach his collarbone. His nose is just touching yours, and he tilts, barely touching your lips.

"So," he whispers against you. You snort and shove his face away with your free hand.

"Okay, nevermind! Get away from me!" You giggle, Logan following suit.

You feel Logan's hand move to the back of your neck, and you blink at him a few times with a small smile. Finally, he leans down to kiss you. You snake your free hand up to the side of his neck and grasp onto a few tufts of his soft hair. He leans into your touch slightly, so your curl your fingers in response.

One of his arms releases you to brace the floor for support, the other moving to hold you tighter. His fingers splayed across your shoulder blade as you slip your other arm out. You slide your hand up the side of his abdomen, almost moaning when the feeling of his back muscles reach your fingers.

You both pull away for a second to breathe before diving back into each other. Logan pulls you towards him, hand that was on the floor now sliding down your side to squeeze at the flesh of your hips.

He pulls back from you and presses and open mouthed kiss just under your ear. You crane your head back in response while feeling your way up the front of his body. Your fingers dip over the curves of his abs and over his chest, and then slide over his shoulder and down his arms. You think about the glisten of his body earlier in the night, the shadows of his muscular biceps and forearms.

"You and these damn shorts," he groans between the kisses he's now leaving on your collar. You let out a breathy laugh.

"I'll take them off later, they don't even fit," you say, pulling his face up so you can kiss him again.

"I hope you'll let me help," he says into your open mouth, causing you to squeeze your thighs together as you heat up.

The shrieking sound of metal against metal surrounds you both, and you shove Logan off you to scramble to your feet. He moves besides you, claws unsheathed on instinct.

The door of the elevator slowly slides open, coming to a halt while it's halfway open. Charles and Jean were waiting from the outside.

"There you both are," Jean huffs out. "You've been gone for about an hour."

"What time is it?" Logan asks, moving out into the mansion floor and sinking his claws back into his knuckles. You follow behind, the chill coming back to your skin.

"About 4:30 in the morning," Charles replies, gliding away from the opening of the metal door. "I suggest you all get some sleep while it's still early." He looks pointedly at you and Logan before rolling to face Jean.

"Agreed. Goodnight you two," Jean says, moving down the hallway to her room.

You and Logan make your way up the stairs, still buzzing. You stop at his door while he opens it. He turns to face you. Once again, you're back to staring at each other hoping you both can understand what the other is thinking.

"Well, good night Logan," You sigh. He cocks an eyebrow at you.

"You're not coming in?" He says while leaning against the door frame.

"Oh," you begin, a smile nervously making its way to your face. "Well ... I ..."

"I gotta help you with those shorts, remember?"

You can't help the soft laugh that leaves your mouth. You move towards him and step just into the doorway.

"I'll take all the help I can get," You say up at him. He takes the opportunity to wrap you in his arm and move you both through the door.

He turns you both, pressing your back against the wall next to the doorway, shutting the door as he molds his lips into yours. His hand slides under your flimsy yellow tank top as you hear the click of the door lock.

More than likely, neither of you were getting much sleep tonight.

[chaptersleftunwritten]

Darkest Desire

Based off of this nonnie request! It’s a bit scarier than intended and I do apologise for that teehee. There’s also no smut…

Blurb: With a group of friends you visit the local Halloween Scare walk, an event that is hosted annually out in the creepy plaines of Hawkins and whilst it’s masks on for the locals, it’s very much masks off for the scare actors…

Pairing: Scare Actor!Eddie x Reader

Warnings: 18+, the holiday of Halloween is mentioned, talk of blood/gore, faux blades/knives, cursing, reader is referred to as girl, use of pet names, degrading, praising, stalking (cat&mouse), sly/cocky and slightly mean!Eddie. Characters are all 20+

-

divider by @reveriesources

Crunchy dry blood orange leaves litter the earth and frost tainted wind nips at your nose and cheeks. The squeals of excited children racing by your costume clad frame fills your ears with immense joy and you giggle airily as they launch themselves into one another. Racing toward the brightly lit luminescent funfair games in hopes of winning a stuffed animal or a goldfish in a bag.

Their parents lug behind them, their attire consisting of some makeshift costume they had thrown together at the last minute in hopes of pleasing their tiny humans and earning themselves a quiet car ride without any tantrums or fuss.

Your group, on the other hand, weren’t here for the childish and conning games. You were all here for the Scare Walk.

You hadn’t agreed on a coherent group costume so it was a pick and mix of totally different genres and ideas and from an outside perspective it was abundantly clear that there was no communication on the matter whatsoever.

Steve was dressed as the main character from Nightmare On Elm Street, Freddy Kruger. Nancy clearly had helped with the makeup aspect of the costume assemble but everything else screamed Harrington. He cropped the stripped knitted jumper to better suit his athletic frame and his hair was still very much classic Steve.

Robin had taken a whole new approach, dressing up as the colourful Rubik’s Cube puzzle toy. Deriving inspiration from the colourful squares she wore a long black jumpsuit covered in humongous reflective and vibrant square sequins. She more resembled a neon glitter ball, but you gave her the benefit of the doubt.

Nancy’s body was hugged by a khaki green boiler suit that had the long legs cut off and on her back she wore a black backpack with some DIY altercations made to it. She has begged Mike to help her create her costume, and that’s how she ended up dressed as a Ghostbuster, putting a strong feminine spin on the male dominated film. You hadn’t expected anything less from Nance, she was always looking for ways to empower women and her costume made you smile. Proud.

Jonathan had chosen a much whackier costume to better fit with his personality. The pungent smell of weed radiating from his body only complimented the fluorescent green costume he was wearing and the radioactive orange bandana blindfolded over his eyes. He had opted for the beloved character from the children’s series Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles’, Michelangelo. Which shouldn’t have surprised you— but it did.

And finally, you had chosen something distinctively different from your friends. You had made the bold choice to go as a flapper girl from the 1920’s, inspired by Fitzgeralds novel The Great Gatsby. It was a bold move because you paired the costume with kitten heels and although they were small you knew by the end of the night your feet would be crying out for rest. It is a Scare Walk after all. Your body was adorned by glitter and lace and the fringe of your dress tickled at the exposed skin of your legs.

It was a bit chilly tonight, but you were having too much of a ball to really hone in and pay attention to the sharp gusts of wind. Steve and Robin were arguing over whose costume was more original and whilst Robin’s was, Steve always somehow managed to argue himself into being ‘right’.

“Talk to me when you have hand sewn a bazillion sequins onto something and not just took a pair of shears to a ratty old sweater.” Robin remarks with a smirk, crossing her arms over her chest and marching ahead of Steve.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it was surprisingly difficult to cut this thing into a straight line— and it isn’t ratty or old, I literally bought it like two days ago.” Steve fires back with a squinted gaze as he follows closely behind Robin’s reflective beacon of light that seems to lead us through the dimness. Nancy grumbles inwardly to herself.

“Can you two stop bickering like babies? We’re here to have fun! So let’s go and do that!” She hooks her arm with yours, charging forward, “I heard that some people from campus are working here this year. I don’t know what they’re doing but isn’t that exciting? We might bump into them!” You admired how Nancy could make a good situation out of everything, however you didn’t quite share her enthusiasm for meeting people you already knew. Nancy was all about making and strengthening connections whereas you wanted to just have fun— judgement free.

And now that you knew that your peers were watching your every move you couldn’t help but feel your confidence shrink slightly and your words clam up. Dying in your throat before they could ever be heard aloud.

-

The walk started off relatively slow and rather boring. You kept mistaking your dress tickling your calf’s as insects running up the skin of your legs and Robin would giggle at the way your head was constantly shooting downward.

“You seem awfully jittery— is someone scared already?” She taunts, wiggling her eyebrows at you and grinning widely as she did.

You scoff in response, “Please. I’m nearly dozing off back here.”

An eerie dark silence falls over the group and the golden haze from the spooky funfair starts to fade into the background behind you as you venture further and deeper into the doom and gloom of night fall.

The smell of sweet popcorn no longer lingers in the hairs of your nostrils and a sinister chill runs down the back of your spine; like fingers tickling your bare skin.

“Are we sure we are sticking to the trail? It’s getting pretty dark out here— OH MY FUCKING GOD!!” Two little girls dressed in bloody dresses and horrifying makeup charge toward you from a nearby hidden brush. Their eyes glow a disturbing shade of white and they hold faux knives that still look devilishly real. You stumble backwards, nearly collapsing from shock however before you could fall to the ground you feel a hard body hit your back which makes you scream out in terror.

The figure laughs at you, jeering and sharp as you whip around to meet him and your hand is quick to find your chest. Your fingers claw at the fabric of your dress and you fist the fabric with a shaky grip. You’re panting, struggling for breath and the skull painted face looms over you for a moment too long; cocking his head to the side as he examines your costume.

That’s when you realise something. Something that you immediately recognised as a dark secret. A dark desire that should be kept hidden.

As his onyx orbs gleam and glare down at you, you feel a wave of heat feather your cold skin. Your core pulses between your thighs and your mouth hangs open in dreadful clarity; you were fucking turned on by this.

His chiselled face is painted to resemble a bare skull. White with inky dark circles that deepen his eye sockets and his cheekbones are defined with thick blended shadowy lines. His lips are painted black to match his contours and he has hand drawn on a stretched toothy smile and an empty nose cavity.

He doesn’t speak a single word.

He just stares at you. Almost as if he is furious with you.

And before long he drags himself away from you, like the simple task is deemed painful and impossible for him.

His torso is dressed in a fitted white button down shirt which is rolled up to his elbows and it exposes his tattooed forearms. On his legs he wears a simple but professional pair of black trousers paired with black suspenders that sling over his shoulders. On his feet he has combat boots supporting his ankles and some sort of padded device strapped around the joint of his knees.

You gawk at him as he skates across the concrete on his knees at an alarmingly fast rate toward another group of poor people; leaving sparks of light in his dust as they squirm and scream. Some of them even go as far to sprint off into the darkness away from him; which leaves the masked man cackling darkly and running after them.

“Holy shit! I had no idea he would be working here this year!” Steve slaps the palm of his hand onto your shoulder as he chuckles heavily and you pull away from him confused and slightly annoyed.

“Who is ‘he’ and how do you know him?” Steve’s laughter dies out slowly and his hands come to rest on his hips. A stance that he did often. The rest of the gang come to join you with curious expressions on their faces.

“Seriously? You don’t recognise him?” There’s a pause as you shake your head ‘no’ and Steve rolls his amber eyes dramatically, “That’s Eddie Munson, dipshit. He’s always smoking weed out in the courtyard on campus? Playing with the fire from the benson burner during chemistry— is this ringing any bells?” You shrug, crossing your arms defensively over your chest.

Is Eddie Munson someone you should know about?

“He has long, curly hair— not better than mine but hey, it’s definitely up there.” Steve’s hand smooths over his slicked back hair that is thick with gel and you laugh, now being able to form an image of Eddie in your mind.

“Ohh, the metal head? He sometimes walks around with his guitar slung over his back?” You reply as you begin to walk off after realising that you have all come to a stand still— and partially because you want to see Eddie again.

“Yeah! He is wicked with a guitar! I’ve seen him play.” Robin chirps from your left and Nancy hums on your right.

“He is pretty good.” Jonathan speaks through a mouthful of candy and you try to disguise your disgust as you unfortunately get a glimpse of the food on his tongue.

“Right…” is all you quietly reply as your eyes scan the bluish darkness. You can hear an owl hooting off in the distance and if it weren’t for the jump scares waiting for you, you would find this promenade quite peaceful.

Crickets whisper conversations from the tall blades of grass and you can see lanterns dotted up ahead of you. They cast ghoulish shadows all around the dirt path and your head twitches from side to side— trying to catch any of the silhouettes moving.

But they don’t.

You have strayed further ahead of the group, their voices hitting your ears in the form of muffled sounds but you don’t bother to wait on them. They are too busy laughing and booing at some of the scare actors whereas your heart is still palpitating at a ridiculous rate from the last scare.

Some of the actors were so gruesomely scary that you felt transported into your favourite slasher films whereas the others were just looming and ominous— more human. Humans are the scariest creatures after all. You fear your own kind in opposition to the unknown.

That’s why when the familiar skull skates over to you on his knees, you freeze this time. No fight or flight; just freeze. Your mouth gaping wide as his nose nearly brushes yours.

“Eddie.” His name is a breathless squeeze from your lungs as it leaves your mouth. You have to say his name aloud in order to ground your thundering heart. Were you excited or frightened? Maybe it was a mixture of both.

Whatever it was, the man stood in front of you wasn’t best pleased. His eyes narrow into irritated slits and his fingers toy with a piece of your hair— twirling it before yanking on it playfully.

Steve, Nancy, Robin and Jonathan all sprint past you in urgency. They screaming until their throats run raw as a deranged man with a faux chainsaw chases after them. Hot on their heels.

You and Eddie go unnoticed by them… and now…

Now you feel afraid.

“Y’know you aren’t supposed to address the actors personally, right?” He sneers through a tight jaw.

“He speaks.” You quip back sassily and Eddie huffs a distorted laugh.

“I’ve seen you around campus— even prettier up close. It’s a shame your attitude ruins that.” He circles you like a shark in water and you follow him. Twirling around makes you dizzy but Eddie’s chuckle makes your dizzier.

“Like a little lost lamb.” He coos, “Where are your cronies? Seems they’ve ditched.” His glove clad knuckle grazes your cheek and you flinch away from his soft touch. Taking a few steps back you widen the close distance between the two of you.

This causes Eddie to grin hugely; showing all of his teeth as he did.

“What? Don’t tell me you’re scared now?” He prowls toward you however you are quick to match every one of his steps. He takes a stride forward? You take a step back.

“You could run away if you wanted… but that’ll only entice me more. Didn’t they tell you? I love the chase.” His voice is a low animalistic growl and you couldn’t understand if this was Eddie or his character talking to you. Was this all an act or was he genuinely this menacing?

“I thought you actors weren’t supposed to get this close to the public…” You hunch your shoulders upward toward your ears as you cower away from his stalky frame and he stares through you; the gears in his head turning.

You shift on the balls of your feet uncomfortably and your skin blazes beneath his intense gaze.

“You’re blushing.” He says matter of factly and suddenly you feel the need to straighten your posture and try to get as far from him as possible.

“I am not.” The lie is pathetic as it meets the frosted air and Eddie smiles eerily.

“It’s the makeup, isn’t it? You like the makeup.” His head strains back on his neck as he lets out a loud laugh, “Fuck— that’s pathetic. You must be into some really weird shit.”

“I- that’s absurd!! I have no idea what you’re talking about!” You squeal and slink your arms around your torso. Partially because you were cold but also to be protective and assertive of yourself, “You don’t even know me—“ Eddie interjects, his finger tapping impatiently against his painted lips.

“Shhhh.” You feel the soft grain of his leather gloves as they tickle your skin and Eddie’s hands fully embrace your bare shoulders, “It’s okay— I like your costume too, I suppose.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, “I mean, it’s a bit outdated and boring but hey, you look good.” He flashes you a teasing wink that is nearly enough to make your lungs implode with lack of oxygen.

“Goodbye, Munson.” You swivel on your kitten heels and briskly find the frozen dirt path again. Your head involuntarily looks over your shoulder, trying to catch sight of Eddie one last time as you leave him behind but to your total disadvantage the metal head was no longer standing where you had left him.

He too, had taken off.

And unbeknownst to you, you had just pressed play on one of Eddie Munson’s all time favourite games; Cat and mouse.

-

It was getting later and later with every passing second and you couldn’t find your friends anywhere. You had last seen them run off whilst laughing and screaming in total horror but you hadn’t seen them since.

Had they actually ditched you and went home?

Once the thought infiltrated your psyche you contemplated on cutting the scare walk short and heading back to the funfair to search for them. However, going back meant that you had to go alone and there was something devilish about that.

To your left, through a thick canvas of sweetgum trees you can hear the owl again. Hooting softly— a sound that should calm your nerves but instead it tugs on them viciously. It’s more like an emergency siren warning you. A sign for you to run and to never look back.

A man made whistle slices through the chirping of the birds and it cuts at your skin like the edge of a blade. You look left and right, frantically dancing in circles as you try to determine where it’s coming from; but you are met with nothingness.

“Eddie, if that’s you then cut it out! This isn’t funny!” Your fingernails pinch at your skin as you begin to walk panicked in the opposite direction. Never paying attention to what’s in front of you, your gaze always trailing off to the side and behind you.

That’s when you see him— the skull peering at you from a dark line of trees in the distance. Your feet come to a staggering stop as you eye him. Was your mind playing tricks on you? Was Eddie really staring back at you or were you deluding yourself?

You swallow thickly, your mouth dry as you watch him emerge from the greenery. Before your brain can compute what your body is doing you are running; charging into the fullness of the forest.

Tree branches whip and rip at your skin, causing it to redden and sting. You wince but you continue soldiering on, your shoulders barge through sticks and nettles and thorns.

Your mind had convinced you that this was real. That you were being chased by a psycho.

“Hey— hey, stop!! It’s okay! Wait—“ Eddie is close behind you, crunching twigs beneath his boots but you are quicker than he is; more frightened and resilient to get as far from him as possible. For your own safety.

“Sweetheart! Stop!” You can hear him getting frustrated as he trudges through the cluttered landscape but you can see lights shining in front of you, just up ahead, and it causes you to force your legs to quicken. Desperate to reach there.

But just before you explode onto the funfair grounds your legs give way beneath you and you crash to the ground. The palms of your hands scrape against the jagged forest floor and your dress rips against a spiked log. You thought this shit only happened in the movies— but tonight you were proven wrong.

You look behind you and your eyes well up with tears of both pure adrenaline and fear at Eddie propelling himself toward you.

You bring up your hands around your head to protect yourself as you shrink back onto the floor, over the fact that your hair is full of pine needles and your knees are scraped and bleeding.

Eddie crouches by your side, a deep frown on his face and worry in his eyes.

“Hey, sweet girl, you’re okay…” Eddie bites off his leather gloves and throws them to the soft earth. He is gentle to pry your cold hands away from your muddied face and he hisses quietly at the temperature of your skin compared to his. He examines the palms of your hands tenderly, “Ouch… this must hurt. What were you thinking?”

Your foolishness almost causes Eddie to laugh, but after witnessing the genuine anxiety plaguing your features he decides not to.

“It was too real.” You blubber, letting out a dampened sob and Eddie’s heart pangs with guilt and sorrow, “I couldn’t find anyone and… and I saw you and I just couldn’t think of anything else…”

“I’m sorry, love. C’mere, let me help you up.” Eddie is crouched down, his knees bent as he braces himself in front of your shaking frame. He outstretches his hands toward you and you take them hesitantly.

Thanks to Eddie’s strength he pulls your weak body up to meet his with ease and he hold you against his chest. Breathing softly as he tries to calm your laboured and nervous breaths.

“I really am sorry… it’s just me, ‘Kay? I’m not gonna hurt you. I promise.” He peppers comforting pecks into your hair and your nails claw at the back of his shirt, “It must’ve been pretty scary; being out there all alone with me.”

You nod, your mind finally calming at the sound of his lulling and gentle voice.

“I do like the makeup.” Your confession is meek and muffled against his chest, “I think there must be something wrong with me.” You laugh, managing to pull away his chest and look at him much more confidently now.

“Not at all,” Eddie grins, “I think it’s quite the opposite, actually. Very normal— it might even be considered vanilla to some people out there.” Although you have removed yourself from the skull painted man’s chest, the closeness between the both of you remains the same.

The truth was; Eddie had always admired you. Your intelligence and your cunning. You were beautiful, which was the cherry on top of your infectiously bright personality. He had noticed you at the beginning of the academic year and he was too chicken to talk to you. You both were connected through Steve but Steve never really paid attention to Eddie’s longing and begging looks toward you.

But Steve didn’t have to say anything. Not anymore. Because you could see it for yourself. You could see beneath the intricate paint on his face that Eddie felt something for you. You weren’t sure what it was; lust, a crush or plain friendship but you could see it. Feel it.

“You must think I’m a total freak.”

“You have no idea who you’re talking to, sweetheart. I am the biggest freak to have ever lived.” Eddie lets out a giddy chuckle and his hands continue to rest lightly around your body. You welcome his lingering touch and his nearness. It felt familiar. Nice.

“We both look like weirdos standing out here in the dark.” Your eyes scan around the auburn horizon of tall trees and a soft smile rests on your smudged lipstick covered lips, “People are going to think we’ve been up to no good.”

Eddie smiles, his hand coming to stroke your cheek gently and tuck some of your rouge hair behind your ear, “With how windswept your hair is, I wouldn’t be surprised.”

You both stand there, the air is clouded with electrifying tension and you can’t think of anything else other than how badly you want him to kiss you.

“I wanna take you out… on a date.” His hands cup your face, “When I’m not this caricature. I’ll just be me and you will be you. You won’t have to run from me…” His cold nose brushes the tip of yours, “I won’t have to chase you.” You can smell mint and nicotine on his breath and you have never been more intoxicated by anything in your entire life.

“What’d ya say, sweet girl? Let me take you somewhere nice so I can kiss you properly at the end of the night?” There is a slight desperation to his voice and you bite your lip to suppress a wide smile.

“I’d like you to chase me, Eddie. Chase me with daisies and a boombox and your guitar. You won’t have to run after me for long…” You are dangerously close to him now, your breath quickening as you press a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. It takes every ounce of self control not to eat his entire mouth with yours, “Take me anywhere. As long as it’s with you.”

“I will.” He promises.

“And kiss me at the end of the night?” You are desperate yourself now, your eyes sparkling with moonlight as you look up into his shadowy hues.

“I will.” He strokes your hair so delicately; like you are the most precious thing he has ever handled, “I promise.”

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[writing-fanics]

Hi 🥺 I had a dream that I really want into a fic but I’m so ass at writing but the dream was basically Josh and Y/N are a couple through the death of the sisters and when they go back the next year Y/N is pregnant and trying to tell Josh but half way through his prank he finds out (I don’t remember how) and ta-da I wake up!

If you’re not comfortable writing this it’s ok! Just ignore my ask :) ❤️

[note: omg! We had the same dream!]

Josh Washington x F!Reader

A/n; no use of y/n

Warning: mentions of pregnancy: slight angst: fear for life

You nervously stared at the positive pregnancy test while sitting on Josh’s bed in the lodge, tapping your foot against the floor and biting down on your lower lip. Unsure of how you are going to tell Josh the news. You weren't that far along not even showing yet, but you were pregnant. Three weeks in fact.

The sound of footsteps coming up the steps made you shove the pregnancy test into your pocket, acting as if nothing was happening. You looked up, seeing your boyfriend Josh walking into the room to sit beside you. “What’re you doing up here all by yourself?” asked Josh, as sat down beside you.

“Nothing.”

“Nothing, that doesn’t sound very fun” he said.

He moves closer, putting an arm around your shoulder. "I was thinking we should heat up some of those frozen pizzas you brought," he says, rubbing your arm.

“Throw ourselves a little party, " he says, placing his hand on your thigh. You turn to look at him and smile, seeing the smirk on his face. After that, " he leaned closer, closing the gap between you. You gasped quietly, feeling his lips against yours.

"Mm, you've got the whole night planned out don't you?" You asked, looking at him. He put an arm around your waist, keeping you from laying down on the bed. "You could say that." He grinned, planting another kiss on your lips.

"Why?"

"Are you pregnant?" he asked, You froze and bit your lip. “Ahh.” you said nervously. “Im just joking with you.” he said, kissing you on the lips.

"I would love to start a family with you," he said, holding your hand and gently rubbing it with his thumb. You smiled as you looked at him.

“I can see a little you or little me running around,” He said smiling at the thought.

Your heart skipped a beat hearing his words, “Josh, I-I’m-” but you were interrupted, by a knock at the doorway. You two turned around and saw Sam standing there, “Am I interrupting something?” asked Sam, and you pulled away and shook your head.

“N-No, we were only talking.” You said. She looks at you not convinced for a moment then turns towards Josh, “Hey Josh. No hot water's kinda major oversight doncha think...?” asked Sam, looking at him and her.

“Yeah yeah, just gotta fire up the boiler. It's in the basement.” said Josh, as he he then returned his gaze back to you.

He planted a kiss on your lips. "Let's finish this when I get back, okay?" he said as he pulled away. He went with Sam downstairs to the basement to turn on the boiler, leaving you all alone.

—-———

You sat there on the bed staring at the pregnancy test, and then your stomach grumbled. You pouted, frozen pizza sounded really good right now. Placing the pregnancy test on the night stand, you got up and made your way downstairs.

As you made your way downstairs you noticed Chris and Ashley, talking by the kitchen door. “Whats going on, where’s Josh?” You asked, looking down at them.

As if on cue you heard Josh’s screams coming from the kitchen, as the door rattled. “Josh!” You cried out, rushing down the stairs.

Trying to open the door hearing his screams, but the door wouldn’t budge. “Come on!” You groaned.

“Josh!” Ashely called out, and as she touched the door she was pulled inside. The door slamming behind her, “Ash! Josh!” You and Chris called out fearfully, as you tried to get the door open. Once the door opened you and Chris were met face to face, with a psychopath wearing a mask. Before you could do anything, the psycho had punched Chris in the face knocking him unconscious.

Leaving only you.

Your eyes widened as you backed away, turning to run. You didn’t get far the psychopath pulling you back wrapping his arms around you and placing a cloth over your nose.

Your vision blurred as you struggled against his strong grasp, feeling the rough texture of the cloth covering your mouth as you desperately tried to pull it off. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your surroundings as you fought to stay conscious.

You whimpered in fear and desperation, your body growing weaker as you struggled against his overpowering hold. Finally, your strength failed, and your body went limp in his arms.

He shifted your body placing an arm underneath your thighs and another, on your back. Carrying you bridal style. Walking up the stairs quietly, he entered his room. Placing you on the bed carefully.

He knelt down and brushed his fingers against your cheeks, causing you to shift. He was about to get up and leave to begin the next phase of his prank, but something on the nightstand caught his eye.

Picking up the plastic link that stuck his arms to his side, he looked back and forth between you and the positive pregnancy test. Why didn't you tell him? Were you nervous? Scared? Worried he'd be angry at you?

He could never be upset with you for being pregnant. He wanted to wake you up and twirl you around in his arms. But he was in too deep; he couldn't stop now, could he?

[a/n: sorry for the wait with this one also the abrupt ending. Josh basically didn’t mean for u to be there the same time Chris and Ashley were]

[ayeforscotland]

What is Dataflow?

This post is inspired by another post about the Crowd Strike IT disaster and a bunch of people being interested in what I mean by Dataflow. Dataflow is my absolute jam and I'm happy to answer as many questions as you like on it. I even put referential pictures in like I'm writing an article, what fun!

I'll probably split this into multiple parts because it'll be a huge post otherwise but here we go!

A Brief History

Our world is dependent on the flow of data. It exists in almost every aspect of our lives and has done so arguably for hundreds if not thousands of years.

At the end of the day, the flow of data is the flow of knowledge and information. Normally most of us refer to data in the context of computing technology (our phones, PCs, tablets etc) but, if we want to get historical about it, the invention of writing and the invention of the Printing Press were great leaps forward in how we increased the flow of information.

Modern Day IT exists for one reason - To support the flow of data.

Whether it's buying something at a shop, sitting staring at an excel sheet at work, or watching Netflix - All of the technology you interact with is to support the flow of data.

Understanding and managing the flow of data is as important to getting us to where we are right now as when we first learned to control and manage water to provide irrigation for early farming and settlement.

Engineering Rigor

When the majority of us turn on the tap to have a drink or take a shower, we expect water to come out. We trust that the water is clean, and we trust that our homes can receive a steady supply of water.

Most of us trust our central heating (insert boiler joke here) and the plugs/sockets in our homes to provide gas and electricity. The reason we trust all of these flows is because there's been rigorous engineering standards built up over decades and centuries.

For example, Scottish Water will understand every component part that makes up their water pipelines. Those pipes, valves, fitting etc will comply with a national, or in some cases international, standard. These companies have diagrams that clearly map all of this out, mostly because they have to legally but also because it also vital for disaster recovery and other compliance issues.

Modern IT

And this is where modern day IT has problems. I'm not saying that modern day tech is a pile of shit. We all have great phones, our PCs can play good games, but it's one thing to craft well-designed products and another thing entirely to think about they all work together.

Because that is what's happened over the past few decades of IT. Organisations have piled on the latest plug-and-play technology (Software or Hardware) and they've built up complex legacy systems that no one really knows how they all work together. They've lost track of how data flows across their organisation which makes the work of cybersecurity, disaster recovery, compliance and general business transformation teams a nightmare.

Some of these systems are entirely dependent on other systems to operate. But that dependency isn't documented. The vast majority of digital transformation projects fail because they get halfway through and realise they hadn't factored in a system that they thought was nothing but was vital to the organisation running.

And this isn't just for-profit organisations, this is the health services, this is national infrastructure, it's everyone.

There's not yet a single standard that says "This is how organisations should control, manage and govern their flows of data."

Why is that relevant to the companies that were affected by Crowd Strike? Would it have stopped it?

Maybe, maybe not. But considering the global impact, it doesn't look like many organisations were prepared for the possibility of a huge chunk of their IT infrastructure going down.

Understanding dataflows help with the preparation for events like this, so organisations can move to mitigate them, and also the recovery side when they do happen. Organisations need to understand which systems are a priority to get back operational and which can be left.

The problem I'm seeing from a lot of organisations at the moment is that they don't know which systems to recover first, and are losing money and reputation while they fight to get things back online. A lot of them are just winging it.

Conclusion of Part 1

Next time I can totally go into diagramming if any of you are interested in that.

How can any organisation actually map their dataflow and what things need to be considered to do so. It'll come across like common sense, but that's why an actual standard is so desperately needed!

[rabbitblackx]

May I have a head canon where an S/O accidentally walked in and saw their Slasher lovers topless/naked? The S/O would feel shame yet hot, since they find them attractive, but didn't want their Slasher boyfriend to be offended. I would love to know what their reaction would be.

Include: Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Bubba Sawyer and Freddy Krueger if you please, and if you feel like it, you can add the other characters you liked ;)

Reader walks in on slashers naked

Includes: Bubba Sawyer, Michael Myers, Jason Voorhees and Freddy Krueger

Bubba Sawyer💖

Bubba was super embarrassed. As soon as you entered his bedroom, he was squealing like a girl and trying to cover up. Your cheeks darkened in a blush, unaware that his face too was rosy under his mask

“Whoops! Sorry, Bubba. Didn’t mean to barge in like that.” You chuckled bashfully

Bubba stammered out some gibberish in response, hiding himself behind the clothes he was just about to put on. You smiled at him sweetly, regaining your composure

“I like what I see anyway.” You purred

You gave him a wink before strutting out the door and shutting it behind you. You left Bubba a flustered mess, head in his hands as he tried to pull himself together. You drove him wild!

Michael Myers💖

You swung your bedroom door open, calling out to Michael to ask him something when you saw it. He was just about to put his black shirt on, his coveralls tied at his waist. His toned, perfectly scarred chest was on full display

You didn’t even try to hide that you were staring. You hand remained on the doorknob as you practically drooled over an unamused Michael

“Wow,” you finally blurted, eyes still glued to his chest. “You. Are. Hawt.”

Michael was so done with you. Instead of putting the shirt on he was still holding, he threw it at your face. It clung to your head momentarily, before you yanked it off

“Joke’s on you. That’s exactly what I wanted.”

You checked Michael out one more time, before waltzing out of your room with his shirt. You sure hoped he had fun being shirtless for the rest of the day!

Jason Voorhees💖

You hummed a tune as you walked into your room with a basket of Jason’s laundry. Your eyes immediately grew wide at the sight of said man standing naked by your bed

Jason was secretly mortified. In one inhumanly fast motion, he snatched the blanket off your bed and covered his junk with it. The pillows flung off along with it and hit the wall

“That’s not fair. I was enjoying that.” You grinned, choking down laughter. You set the laundry basket down on your now bare bed, turning to him with a playful glint in your eye. “Now, you can put these clothes on if you’d like.” You began

Jason stared at you from behind his mask, flustered yet keen to know what you were getting at

“But I’d much prefer if we had a little fun first.” You purred with a giggle

Freddy Krueger💖

After falling asleep one night, you found yourself in an old boiler room like usual. Though it never looked as intimidating for you as it did for others. You wandered for a bit, calling out to your boyfriend Freddy. As you turned a corner, you found him fully naked… waiting for you on a bed

“Oh, my days!” You threw your hands up in surprise and used them to shield your red face

Freddy purred your name, patting the sheets next to him. “I’ve been expecting you. Why don’t you come lay down next to me?” He offered with a smirk

You kept your face covered, too shy to show Freddy how flustered he got you. But as you slowly crept over to join him, something told you he already knew

[theflyingkipper]

A redo of my Edwards Exploit drawing from ages ago, now in traditional mixed media!

I felt like I didn't capture the mood I wanted last time when I looked it over again (to the horror of everyone who got to see this early. Thank you for gassing up the old one, and keeping me motivated through the making of this)

this version is much more directly studied off the Peter and Gunvor Edwards' illustration, because I've grown into the opinion that the model adaptation of exploit was really weak (technical limitations!!! what a shame) and i want to get back into studying these illustrations, there's a lot to pick apart in them.

Here's a bunch of perspective lines i drew over it when I was sketching. (I don't normally do that when I redraw, but that's usually because I'm drawing from model era screencaps and I can rely on those being proportional, most of the time) Edwards face breaks perspective here just a bit to add more drama to the scene, everything else is proportional.

some in-progress pictures, during which I absolutely HATED how it looked and wanted to switch to digital because I feared I'd messed it up irreconcilably 😭 good thing I was able to look at it with fresh eyes after staring at it for like four hours, the first session of drawing ended at 1am. Believe me, if you hate how your drawing is turning out, put it down and come back to it later!!

Edward is also more referenced off a real K2 here because I really like how they look. Unfortunately they have painful geometry.

something frustrating about my traditional drawings is how they can't be viewed from multiple angles online. I use silver gel pen to highlight some parts (here it's Edward's handrails and the damage) but it doesn't show up well when I photograph it head on. I hope this picture shows a little bit of how it shows up in real life!

(if you can't see, look at the bottom of Edward's boiler bands)

Hopefully you enjoyed reading under the cut :] I like explaining my process and I appreciate it immensely when someone shares my enthusiasm for it.

[innerfare]

Paint Me Happy In Blue - Law 

Summary: Captain Law has been pining for the newest member of his crew; reader is a Heart Pirate and marine biologist who ate the algae-algae fruit and has a habit of wearing blue nail polish

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x Afab!Reader

Genre: kinda fluffy

CW: SFW // None

Word Count: 1,262

Law knocked on your cabin door, tattooed knuckles against metal. He had spent the past fifteen minutes scolding himself, telling himself to stop acting like a nervous school girl and go talk to you, damn it. He had in his other hand the journal you had left behind in the laboratory aboard the Polar Tang, where you researched marine life and put together rare cures. Your algae-algae devil fruit certainly helped in that regard. 

The door swung open, and Law stood up a little straighter. 

You stood in front of him, smelling of pears and a flower he had finally worked out to be freesias. With your hair damp from a shower and an oversized t-shirt clinging to your body, you looked like a completely different person than the woman he normally saw in a boiler suit. 

He panicked at the sight, unable to tell if you were wearing anything underneath. Terrified he’d be caught staring, he tore his gaze away. 

His eyes immediately went past your head, doing a quick lap around your small cabin in hopes of catching sight of anything he hadn’t seen before. He soaked in the sight of the sealskin blanket on your bed- a gift he’d given you to remind you of your shared home in the North Blue, the glowing blue jellyfish tank on your desk, the rock band poster hanging on your wall, and the dying plant on your bedside table. 

“See something you like?” You asked him, trying to swallow the smile tugging on your lips, the same smile that always appeared when your captain graced you with his presence. You tried to play it off, but you knew a man like Law was too smart to miss the obvious cues. But his clear lack of reciprocation didn’t keep you from feeling the way you did. 

“There’s no sunlight down here, y/n-ah,” he remarked. “If you keep buying plants, they’ll keep dying.” 

You let out a sigh, leaning out of the doorway and pressing your back into the doorframe, turning to the side to look mournfully at the same plant Law was staring at; it brought you a little closer to him. “I know, but I really like to have flowers in my room. And I don’t like cutting them off the plant, you know? It feels mean.” 

Law wanted to die, you were so sweet. 

If using Room to cut his heart out and throw it away would have kept him from feeling it beat, he would have done it in an instant, but he was stuck with the incessant fluttering, no matter where the organ was. Not even he could control it. 

He swallowed his despair and cleared his throat, lifting his hand with your journal in it. “Here, you left this in the laboratory.” He tried his hardest to act disinterested, as if he had just happened across it and then happened to bring it back to you, though now that he had, he felt rather like a dog bringing you a bone. 

“Oh. Thanks, Captain.” You reached out for the journal, neglecting to tell him you had left it there on purpose because you really had no need of it anywhere else. 

Suddenly, you wondered- hoped, even- if you made a habit of leaving it in the laboratory, he would make a habit of bringing it back and explaining the obvious to you. You would have let him explain your own life to you, and wholly incorrectly, if it meant hearing that deep voice of his, like water sliding over smooth river rock. 

As you went to take the journal from him, your fingers brushed his tattooed ones. Your heart leaped in your chest. Startled by it, despite having known it would have that effect from all the occasions in the past you got just as jumpy at his touch, you tried to take the journal away as fast as you could, but Law had a vice grip on the small, leather-bound book. 

Law looked down as your fingers touched, and he realized something: you had repainted your nails. His heart sank as he realized your dainty fingers were no longer tipped in indigo, only to flutter when he realized you had simply replaced the indigo with another color, just as you had replaced the azure with indigo two weeks ago. 

What was it this time? 

He peered down at your fingers, soaking in the pale, arctic blue you had coated your nails in. It reminded him of his home in the North Blue, but without the trauma he normally relived if something reminded of the place. 

It wasn’t a bitter cold but a sweet chill, more like ice cream on a hot summer’s day than a blizzard rolling in. And Law didn’t even like ice cream; it was far too sweet. Maybe, though, just maybe, he could choke down a few bites of plain, unsweetened vanilla if you spooned it into his mouth with that small smile on your face. 

Oh, for fuck’s sake. How had he been reduced to this? 

“Captain?” 

You shifted on your feet, and he realized you were barefoot. His eyes flickered down to your toes, and he saw your toenails were the old shade of blue, the deep indigo he had stared at on your hands at every meal for the past two weeks. 

His heart skipped a beat, but he wasn’t entirely sure why. He just knew he liked the color on you. It turned him into a blushing mess, all red and pink, while you remained cool and blue, leaning casually in your doorway with a soft smile on your pretty face. 

Law dipped his head low, hoping his hat would cover enough of his face to obscure his flushed cheeks. “You don’t have to call me that,” he said for what felt like the thousandth time. 

“Call you what?” You asked, still tugging on your journal; he seemed oblivious. 

“Captain. We’re a casual crew.” 

“I guess I’m a little more formal,” you said with a small shrug. “Is that alright?” 

Law responded with a shrug of his own. 

“So,” you ventured. You gave your journal another tug. “Are you going to give this back to me, or do I have to fight you for it?” 

“Oh, right. Sorry.” He released the journal in a second, only to regret it as you pulled it away and took a step back, putting more space between the two of you. 

“No problem,” you said. “Thanks, Captain.” 

Law ground his teeth together. “Yeah, well…” His eyes fell back to your side, where your arms had come to rest, your smooth hands with elegant fingers tipped in arctic blue. “I like your nail polish, by the way. It’s… cool.” With that, he turned and stalked off, feeling to himself like the biggest fool to have ever lived, seeming to you like he was in a sour mood.  

Why, then, had he complimented you? 

You closed your door quickly and pressed your back into it, holding your journal to your chest as a smile bloomed on your face. You had just been about to remove the arctic blue and replace it with a royal blue you were a little more comfortable with, thinking the arctic was a bit too bright, possibly even childish, but if Law thought it was cool, it was most certainly staying on your nails. Maybe you’d even put it on your toes, too, not that Law would see. 

Unless he came back to your cabin, of course. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[fizzyellouw]

Main poster ↓

Old poster ↓

History

The story takes place in 1989 at Westerburg High School. Pomni was a girl who was bullied by her classmates, many of whom were her childhood friends. A few days later, she joined the most popular clique at Wasterburg, which consisted of three rich students: the leader, Jax; the silly prince, Kinger; and the cheerleader ; Ragatha. After 3 weeks of being a Heath, Pomni gets fed up with them, especially Jax.

She meets a candy gator, Gummigoo, Pomni learns about his fight with 2 other popular kids.

When Pomni goes to Ram's party with the Heaths, she has a great time, but Gangle arrives at the party and this worries Pomni, she tells Gangle to leave before someone hurts her and announces in the middle of the party that she's leaving the group and going back to her normal life, Jax fights with her and Pomni ends up vomiting, he swears to destroy Pomni's life.

Drunk, Pomni shows up at her best friend Gangle's house. The next day she says goodbye to Gangle and meets up with Gummigoo to discuss the plan against Jax. They break into Jax's house and Gummigoo pours him a liquid that he claims is a hangover cure, but is actually milk and detergent, leaving Jax hospitalized for months.

After the whole school heard that Jax was in hospital, many prayed that Jax would get well and others that Jax would die. Kinger soon took over Jax's role as leader of the group and started wearing a purple cape.

Ram and Kurt tell everyone that Pomni had sex with them. Gummigoo tells Pomni to lure them into the forest to trick them into having sex so he can shoot them with non-fatal German bullets. Gummigoo shoots Ram and Pomni misses Kurt, who runs away but Gummigoo chases after him. Pomni noticed that the bullets were real; Gummigoo chases Kurt back to Pomni, who panics and shoots Ram. Gummigoo puts homosexual materials next to the boys, and a suicide note saying that they were both gay and didn't want to live in such a cruel world anymore, thus ending homophobia in the school.

Gangle, Pomni's best friend, pins a suicide note to her chest and throws herself from a high place. She survives because her body is made of tape and is light, she hits her face on the floor and ends up cracking her face and is mocked for trying to "act popular".

One night, Ragatha calls into a popular radio show, Pomni Kinger was listening, Ragatha says her name is actually Agatha, she talks about her depression and how her life is forced, the next day, Kinger tells the whole school about Agatha, she tries to commit suicide by overdosing on pills in the girls' bathroom, but is saved in time by Pomni.

Gummigoo tells Kinger to get signatures from all the students for a band note, which was actually a suicide note. Most of the students signed it.

Pomni tells Gummigoo that he doesn't want to hurt and kill anyone anymore. Gummigoo goes to Pomni's house with a revolver to kill her, but Pomni uses a rope to make it look like she committed suicide. Gummigoo thinks there's no one left to stop him so he goes to the school and plants a bomb to blow everything up.

Pomni fights Gummigoo in the boiler room under the gymnasium while a pep rally is going on at the school, where he is setting up timed explosives. Pomni shoots Gummigoo as a result of him refusing to stop the bomb. While Gummigoo has fainted, Pomni deactivates the bomb and leaves with it going to an open space in the school, she puts the bomb in her chest to kill herself but Gummigoo arrives in time and takes the bomb out of her hands, he tells Pomni to stay away and says that, from the first time he saw her, he fell in love with Pomni, but he knew she didn't feel the same way but he still didn't care. The bomb finally explodes and confetti scatters and Pomni gets dirty with dust and confetti, she picks up Gummigoo's hat and puts it on her head with a smile of relief.

Pomni confronts Kinger, confesses and asks Gangle out on a date (one night in the movie) so they start dating.

1 month later, she goes to Jax who is out of hospital and tells him that she didn't put detergent in his drink but Gummigoo, and that she didn't know there was detergent in it. Jax didn't know whether to trust Pomni or Gummigoo, but he gave Pomni a chance even though he still didn't trust her very much. The Heaths, including Kinger, assume that their names are Jason, Agatha and Kilye.

Kylie sees that she was wrong, Agatha seeks treatment for her depression, and Jason stops smoking.

They stop bullying and the Heaths group ceases to exist, now Gangle, Pomni, Kilye, Jason and Agatha are friends.

Songs

Beautiful

Candy Store

Big Fun

Dead Girl Walking

Dead Girl Walking (reprise)

Shine a Light

Shine a Light (reprise)

Never Shut Up Again

Kindergarten Girlfriend

Seventeen

Meant To Be Yours

Yo, Girl

Lifeboat

Ships :

Bunnydoll / Ragatha x Jax

Scaredylovers / Gangle x Pomni

Funnygummy / Gummigoo x Pomni (Non-mutual feeling)

[lesinquietes]

Summary: Seeking a fresh start, you and three others rent an old house in the countryside. There’s an issue with the boiler, but other than that, the place is in good condition. Your friends fall in love with the mansion’s aged charm and solitude. You wish you could join them in their excitement. Unfortunately, you can’t stop thinking about the basement. Something about the cool, barren atmosphere both tempts and horrifies you. You get the sense that, if you ever tread there, the darkness won’t hesitate to engulf you. Your final breath, as your soul is expelled from your body, will be used to utter the culprit’s name: Alucard. Only in death will you find reprieve. The problem is, he doesn’t intend to let you perish. Pretty puppet, your suffering is merely the beginning of an immortal life by his side. Modern AU.

Pairing: Yandere!Alucard x AFAB!Reader

Warning: 18+ (minors don’t interact), angst, horror, psychological manipulation, sexual themes, violence.

Next l

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

hello yes happy october do some of y’all remember this og story? couldn’t resist rewriting it for spooky season. and make no mistake — when I say spooky season, I don’t just mean october. fall and winter are seasons where odd things happen, usually out in nature. lets make these next few months extra chilling

The Basement’s Monster: Prelude

From the landing and through the open door, stairs made of old, unreliable wood dip down into a black abyss. Stone walls guide their path — wherever it may go — spurring the pleasant scent of damp cement and pungent moss. You can’t see the bottom. And despite this, part of you knows that there’s something there; something that’s ravenous.

You swallow. Both palms gripping the door frame, you feel as though your shoes are embedded in thick glaciers of ice, glueing you firmly in place. There’s a tug in your heart. It implores you to descend. It halfway convinces you that monsters and demons and all beings of lore don’t exist. You’re content that you know better than to indulge in cowardice disguised as logic.

Normally, you don’t believe in this sort of thing. Nothing out of the ordinary has occurred in your life that you’ve been incapable of explaining — until now. You don’t know how to conceptualize what you felt upon walking through the door of this decrepit mansion. A mixture of sorrow and yearning, perhaps, with an additional emotion you can’t put your finger on. In any case, it drew you all the way here, to the basement door.

“(F/n)!”

You perk up. Her voice is distant, but that’s your friend. She’s upstairs with the real estate agent and the others. You open your mouth to call back. You can’t muster a sound. With a shaky hand, you rub the front of your neck. The sensation that there’s a palm pressed against it, squeezing only subtly, is unnerving. Predictably, there’s nothing there.

Defeated, you close your dry lips and direct your attention back to the darkness. You peer through the shadows, as though your eyes are capable of slicing through all obscurity, powerful as the Light of Christ. A sobering quote from Nietzsche’s Beyond Good and Evil resounds in your head. For when you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you. You would be a fool to think the beast isn’t examining you, too.

On cue, words as bitter and husky as a tannic merlot travel a short distance to rest in your ears. His tone, deep and masculine, grips your shoulders like the talons of a mythical creature. Instantly, it stirs unrest in the pit of your waning soul. You can’t tell if you’re dissociating or on the cusp of a spiritual awakening.

Come, little one. Find me.

Gooseflesh appears on your arms. Your nipples harden when you register the breeze wafting up from the passageway. Your jaw unhooks, teeth chattering softly as you process what just transpired.

Realistically, there’s no way this is real. You hate to sound generic, but you conclude that it must have been your imagination; in fact, all of this probably is. You and your friends have been watching more horror movies than usual to amp up for Halloween. Haunted houses freak you out, and your brain has decided to torture you this evening.

Your knuckles are white from the force with which you’re gripping the frame, frightened that your will, alone, won’t be enough to keep you from exploring. You want to be positive that this truly is all in your head. The basement beckons for you to debunk the reality you’ve dedicated yourself to — the convenient lie that there are solely mortals residing on this plane of existence.

You want to satiate that curiosity of yours, no? Its teasing snicker is innately threatening. Come, pretty human.

Your head spins. Dizziness washes over you, nearly causing a heavy collapse. The voice is anxiety-inducing. You’re hanging onto consciousness by a thread.

You’re going crazy; that’s the only viable solution for this spell of hallucinations and delusions. Ghosts don’t exist. Demons don’t exist. Satan is an arguable concept.

But I classify myself as none of those creatures, sweetness.

When you let your eyelids fall, a silhouette appears in the darkness. You inhale sharply and refrain from blinking. You have to find your friends; unsupervised and weak, you could topple forwards and fall down the stairs.

Though I command fear not unlike the Archfiend, I do so to those who earn it.

Tears pool the bottoms of your strained petals, lubricating your orbs as you battle the trepidation afflicting you. You try to focus on your quivering breath. You can hear its tremble, as well as your quickening heartbeat, in your ears. It’s causing your temples to pound.

You don’t want to blink… but you have to.

You whimper meekly, the demon’s silhouette becoming clearer to you. It’s a being with a blood-coloured fedora and round, reflective lenses. He’s wearing a crimson overcoat, ruffled at his wide shoulders. You can’t decipher any more of his physical features; he’s intentionally shrouded them.

And you have not earned my ire.

In a deranged, wretched way, his claim placates you. If, in any form, this thing that’s haunting you is real, you want to trust that it means you no harm. You know that’s a fool’s game, however; main characters seldom benefit from bearing their neck to the foe.

I’ve been waiting for you, (f/n).

You blink. The silhouette is getting closer to you. Hes halfway up the basement stairs, and you can’t move a fucking inch.

Open your mind to me.

You’re panicking. You don’t want to let him in, but how does one open or close their mind? Again, if this is real, you’re a sitting duck to his influence. He’s far stronger than you could ever hope to be.

Your eyelids shut. He’s almost at the top step. You make out pale skin beneath a white dress shirt that’s accented with a scarlet ascot. Once more and he’ll have you.

That’s it; let me in.

He’s close enough to choke you. These were the hands you could have sworn you felt on your neck earlier; these were the fingers that toyed with the idea of wringing the vitality from your supple soul. Inwardly, you’re frantic. You might have a heart attack before this monster reaches you. Your pupils dilate as the man materializes in the darkness, like a menacing apparition. You wish you could run. Why can’t you run… why can’t you run?!

“(F/n)!”

You gasp. In an instant, his illusion is shattered; the beast retreats in the presence of a love, sucked back into his hole. You blink, and his figure is gone. No part of him, aside from the chilling memories he’s imprinted on you, remains.

You allow yourself to inhale greedily. Your lungs feel empty. Your heart doesn’t cease its galloping — it won’t for a while. An anxiety attack vibrates like thunder in your body. Whether you grasp it or not, this is merely the calm before the storm.

Mindfully, you crane your neck to the side, collecting your gaze from the unpredictable darkness. It’s a feat. The demon doesn’t want to release you from his manipulative hold, but he’s perceivably weaker than before. The presence of another human is diffusing his hypnosis.

There, a few feet away, stands the same friend who was calling your name earlier. Her name’s Ericson. Chocolate brown orbs sweep over you, assessing your physical state. Worry clouds them when she notices your expression. She tucks a long, brown strand behind her ear and swallows.

“Oh, shit… you don’t look so good.”

Fortunately, Ericson isn’t one to waste time. The young woman hooks her elbows beneath your arms and pries you away from the basement door. She helps you into a chair near the landing of the stairs. From there, she does what you were silently begging her to do; she shuts the basement door and secures the latch.

You exhale, unburdened and breathless. Finally, the nightmare has ended. You don’t hear his voice. You don’t see his image. You don’t feel drawn to his domain. You may be free of him. That begs the daunting question, though; if he wasn’t a product of your sanity slipping, what the fuck was he?

You groan, pressing cool fingertips to your warm forehead. Have you been stressed? Sure. Stress, alone, doesn’t warrant hallucinations, however. Until you have further evidence that you’re cracking, you have no choice but to believe what you experienced was beyond what mortals comprehend about existence.

“I… don’t know what just happened.” You confess, at last. “I felt… like I had to see the basement.”

Ericson rubs your shoulders from behind the chair, soothing you. It’s sweet of her. Your thoughts are marathoning at an Olympic pace, but your body is rooted in a slower reality.

“And… there was a guy down there… but… he wasn’t… he wasn’t…”

You’re unable to utter that you don’t think the perpetrator was another human being. It sounds silly, even as you rehearse the sentence in your head. Ericson will think you’re losing it.

“Easy.” She utters gingerly. “Chill out for a sec before you say more.”

She’s right. You could stand to decelerate. You take a moment to recalibrate yourself. What were you doing before this? Right. You were surveying the downstairs portion of the house while the others toured upstairs. You couldn’t shake your compulsion to investigate the basement. From the moment you walked through the front gate of the yard, and ventured up the cobblestone path, an invisible rope was tied around your torso, tugging it towards the monster. Ericson wouldn’t be telling you to settle down if she knew what was lurking directly below her feet.

Did she, or any of the others, feel it, too? You gulp. It wouldn’t hurt to check.

“This whole place feels wrong.” You admit vaguely. “Don’t you think?”

Much to your chagrin, she seems perplexed by your appraisal.

“Actually, we were just saying how peaceful it is here.”

Visibly, you recoil. Oof. Well, you can’t fault them for that. The market for renting a house is steep. You and your friends only found the posting for this estate because you wanted to move further away from the city. The renter — a family member of the previous owner, an old man — is offering the property for an exceptional price. If they don’t go with this one, they may not find a better deal.

“Look.” You start. “I felt something weird when I was standing near the basement… and it freaked me the fuck out.”

Ericson is adhering to you intently.

“What happened? Seriously. You said you saw a guy?”

“It wasn’t a guy so much as it was… like, a ghost or something.”

He wasn’t a ghost or a spectre, a demon or a moniker of Satan; he said so, himself. Nonetheless, at a loss for how else to describe him, that’s the fictional being you elected to choose. He doesn’t look like anything you’ve ever seen before, in books of old, in legends transcending cultures, in hieroglyphs from ancient people long gone — he’s something else entirely.

“A ghost?” She echoes.

“I don’t know.”

The two of you are quiet. She doesn’t buy your story. You can feel her judging you as she walks around the chair. Finally, she kneels in front of you. There’s a solemn emotion on her gentle visage.

“What can I do to make you feel better?” She asks. “I can install, like, ten locks on the basement door.”

You smile. It might not permanently solve the problem, but it does make you feel safer. Crazy or not, you want to stay separated from the basement. If you all agree to seal it up tight, you may be willing to accommodate their desire to rent. After all, you have no qualms with it beyond the monster that’s made a home in its guts.

“I’m just sketched out.”

She nods.

“Seems like it.”

“I just— I really think I saw something down there.”

“I believe you.”

She doesn’t, though. It’s uncomfortable to be the sole one who has an issue with this place. To the untrained eye, it looks like you’re purposefully being difficult. Guilt and shame wash over you. Is it fair for you to be writing this home off without hearing the opposite to your opinion?

“You all like it here?”

You prompt your friend.

“We do.” She shrugs. “It’s a forty-five minute drive to work for Nelly.”

That’s another one of your friends. She’s keeping her profession in the city, so it’s necessary for her to approve of the distance between there and her new pad. A commute of under an hour was one of her requests. Her second and final request is that the house is quiet. That’s two for two.

“Cree wants to head into town to look for work.”

Unsurprising. Cree didn’t do anything with his degree. He’s saving up to attend graduate school. As for town, it isn’t anything extravagant. There’s a small grocery store with a liquor hub inside, and a convenience store that’s open ‘til 9 beside it. A pharmacy is on the same strip of land, along with a hardware store. Pump-your-own gas is a couple kilometres down the street. Two cafes and a bookstore caught your eye when you were driving in. A couple of fast food joints, as well. Doesn’t Cree want better opportunities for himself? Maybe he can earn more money elsewhere.

“The previous owner didn’t have access to the Internet, but the realtor tested the connection and didn’t have a problem.” She explains. “So, I’m thinking I’ll do data entry and school.”

That makes sense. Ericson doesn’t need to leave the homestead often, so she’s comfortable in any location with wifi. A chill runs down your spine at the notion of her in this hellhole alone. That would make her easy prey.

“You said you’d need the Internet for work too, right?”

“Oh… yeah.”

That’s true. Your job is remote. You and Ericson can look out for each other, if all else fails. It might not be so bad. With one car shared amongst the four of you, and no community bus stops in this county, it’s not like she can forsake you. Already, the prospect of not being by yourself feels better.

Ericson studies your expression. She can tell you’re deliberating hard on whether or not to move into this option. Biassed, she prays she can convince you. She racks her brain to determine what she can use to show you how secure you’ll be with them. Beyond wanting to live here, she doesn’t care for the fear in your eyes. Although she doesn’t subscribe to the idea of supernatural creatures, she makes it her mission to comfort you.

“Nelly pole dances.”

“What?”

“Nelly pole dances.” She reiterates. “Do you know how much upper body strength that woman has? We’re safe with her.”

You suppose she’s an asset when it comes to physical threats. You ponder. Does the creature in the basement manifest itself into this sphere; could Nelly hurt him?

“And Cree offered to smudge us before we move in.”

You lift a curious brow.

“Smudge us?”

“Yeah. Like, he’ll cleanse the house too, obviously, but he said he wants us all to enter this chapter of our lives in a good place.”

Cree is an indigenous man. Proudly, he bears the same namesake as his people. His father was a healer, and thus, he carries with him similar techniques and energies, passed along by lineage and teaching. Again, you feel safer knowing he’s got the best intentions for you.

“And you know me.” She winks cheekily. “Orange belt.”

You chuckle shortly. She recently graduated from yellow to orange in her adult karate class. Soon after, she admitted that she knows a few defensive moves. She’s certainly not someone you’d want to rely on during a physical altercation, but she’s great for introducing logic into the conversation and, of course, comedic relief.

“With these things considered, would you be willing to give this place a chance?”

You want to be down; you want so badly to be down. You can tell this is where your friends wish to move, but you can’t shake the sensation that renting it would be a horrible idea. It isn’t your anxiety talking; there’s a predator beneath you.

“I need the realtor to check the basement.”

That’s your condition. If the realtor agrees to verify that no one else is in the house, and nothing is amiss in its depths, you’re willing to give the ageing building a shot.

“Right now?”

“Yeah.” You authenticate. “And the day we pick up the keys.”

The entity could be attached to one of the former’s tenant’s personal items. If that’s the case, moving his things out will eliminate the issue entirely. You’ve heard stories like that before, wherein a spirit is tied to a belonging and not the house it inhabits.

“Done.” Ericson claps. “Anything else?”

You shake your head. If things get exceptionally bad, you understand that the option of subletting your room will always be there. As much as you don’t want to contemplate having to abandon your companions, this thing only seems to be attacking you for now. Removing yourself could turn out to be the route you have to take in the end, should you want to retain your sanity.

“I’m in, so long as nothing strange happens during the inspections.”

Directly below your feet, the creature hums. Nothing weird. Fine, that’s a condition he can meet if it means he gets to keep you. He’ll shrink himself when the realtor steps into his space. The room will be welcoming. You’ll have no room to argue about a foreboding atmosphere without losing credibility. You’re a smart woman; you won’t disagree with the verdict for the sake of appeasing your friends.

He’s amused by your silly antics to hopelessly protect yourself. Smudging won’t help. He isn’t a spirit, and your ancestors can’t save you from the type of creature he is. Undead, he may be, but not the sort that hovers inches above the ground and howls mournfully through the tombstones; on the contrary, he’s a vampire.

He observes you with pleasant curiosity, as Ericson embraces your silent form giddily. She successfully convinced you to take up residence in this home. He didn’t have to influence her to do so; the house sold itself. But you understand the dangers that lurk down here, don’t you? Yes. Sweet little lamb, your pure heart calls to his pungent blackhole, coaxing him like prey frollicking through a clearing. He will have no choice but to pounce, should he entrance you into his domain.

You were correct to think that he’s bound to an item. He can go no further than the top landing, just beyond the basement door, and therefore, his influence over mortals is weak. The last time he roamed this earth freely was decades ago, in London, England. After a grand battle over two decades ago, he was bound to an amulet by a member of the Hellsing family. Miserably, it was his old master, Integra’s, last bitter gift to him; she never wanted him to taste true freedom.

Unfortunately, the old man has no relation to that family. If he was, the nightstalker might have given him a slow, painful death to make reparations between him and the Hellsings. Unceremoniously, he simply found the amulet at a thrift store. He demanded to see it outside of its locked display case. The second he held it, the vampire took advantage of his feeble nature. He bought the piece of jewellery. From then, until the day his relatives put his home up for rent, one name slithered through his transfixed mind: Alucard. He served only Alucard.

Disappointment rocked him when he realized that the male’s aged body was unable to handle the tasks required for him to be released from the amulet. He can’t kill a woman and spill her blood over his jewel. He can’t restrain you and force the gaudy thing around your neck. And he sure as hell can’t slit his own throat with all the dull blades he has lying around; he lacks the physical strength.

Planning to remove the old man for his senile behaviour — particularly when most of his oddities were spurred by Alucard’s sinister influence — was a rich outcome that the shapeshifter prayed to Death for. He wanted to lure someone like you into his clutches. He was waiting for an opportunity to be freed from his constricting prison.

He knows the amulet can’t be placed anywhere in clear sight. The realtor will see it if he makes the hiding spot too obvious. He’ll have to make one of your roommates discover its location — or, maybe you’re the perfect candidate for the task. He hasn’t decided how he wishes to orchestrate his release from this cursed piece of jewellery yet. One thing’s for certain, though; you’re going to play a crucial role in his resurgence. The others may perish in what is to come, but you? He’s growing a soft spot for you.

You’re guided upstairs to rejoin the rest of your crew. There are two more people on the second floor, not including the agent. He smirks. Oh, how he enjoys culling a delicate herd.

He reflects on his past. Earlier in his life, when he was being stalked along the slopes of Romania by van Hellsing and his crew, he took an interest in two young women. Lucy Westenra and Mina Harker were the epitome of innocence, both in different ways. The true enjoyment lied in corrupting them, sometimes gradually, as they descended into darkness with their hesitant hands in his. Seras Victoria provided a similar rush of exhilaration, centuries later.

Over time, the amulet is weakening, allowing for him to use more of his powers in the confined space that he has. What kind of sharp adrenaline will rush through his icy veins as he hunts you? What sort of lust will you stir in his chest, a dead garden with thorns sharp enough to puncture, and long branches that impale? Perhaps your story as (f/n) will come to a close when his fangs dip into your neck, syphoning your life for his pleasure, and begin anew as his beautiful, undead wife, destined to serve him for several eternities.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Metalhead

Daryl Dixon x Reader

You had dragged Daryl along to something you liked last month, so now it was his turn.

To anyone around, including yourself it was clear you stood out from the crowd.

Inbetween the mass of black on black, spiked everything and the odd masked figures in red boiler suits your bright blue jeans and simple bright teeshirt.

Daryl had come along to your weekend event last month, so now it was your turn to join him to a concert.

"What's with the masks?" You were settled against Daryl's side, not entirely sure what to make of the group before you.

"Really, ya haven't paid any attention when I showed ya who we're seein' tonight?" Daryl, all decked out in his usual looks of heavy boots, black trousers with chains hanging off the belt loops and a black shirt that hugged his form ever so perfectly. It was printed with the picture of a blonde woman that you didn't recognise.

"Hey, Dixon!" A man's voice had you both turn and look behind you, where a bearded guy in a beanie walked up with two women in super gothy outfits, their makeup extreme but flawless.

You had never met Daryl's friends before and in all honesty you felt intimidated by them.

"Oh my god you brought your girl, finally!" One of the women gestured excitedly and hopped over to introduce herself, perfectly manicured hand outstretched for you to take. "Hi! I'm Viv, that's Sammy and Jesus." You shook everyone's hands and introduced yourself as well before Daryl did his rounds and gave everyone the biggest bear hugs. "Hey, hun." "How's the apartment lookin'?" "Tell yer mom I'm sorry fer not comin' over ta cook with 'er."

It was weird to see Daryl be so social. Normally he'd be the quiet one when you went out together, but now he was all smiles and talk.

"Gotta rep the guesting band, I see." The Jesus guy tugged on Daryl's shirt, staring at the print, while one of the girls chimed in. "You gotta know by now Dee's got the biggest crush on her." The three laughed as Daryl dismissed the comments, all while you stood by and listened to their banter. Who did Daryl have a crush on? What?

"Here, in case Daryl forgot to give you some." Sammy extended her hand to you and handed you a clear plastic baggie with two foam earplugs in them.

"Ah, crap.." Daryl rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously as he accepted a packet himself too. "Yer a lifesaver, Sam. Thanks."

You waited close to the front of the line for some more hours, having ordered food with a large group of people that all seemed to become friends at that moment.

Once the doors to the venue opened up you followed Daryl like a lost puppy, stuck to his arm in fear of getting lost in the sea of the dark clad people.

"Come on, Dixon, get your ass in gear!"

"Yeah, man. Barricade's gonna be full at this rate." His friend had already moved further along as you and Daryl put your stuff in a locker. "Go ahead. Takin' it easy with this one." Daryl's hand found your hair and ruffled it softly, much to your annoyance. But you appriciated his concern for you and was willing to not go full out.

You followed along with the stream of people and ended at the bar off to the side of the venue.

"One beer, and one--" Daryl gave you a look, and saw you just looking around the place, taking everything in. "And a Redbull, please."

By the time you had your drinks and the crowd had all settled in, the local opening band had started their first song. Daryl's beer was gone fast, kindly waiting for you to finish your overpriced can before slowly easing you into the crowd.

Every tine you stood still for a moment you took a peek at the stage, seeing the band perform the songs was something entirely different than hearing come from Daryl's huge sound installation at home.

Daryl was keeping a close eye on you the whole time, not caring much for the small band on stage. He was enjoying how curious you were. Less how easy it was to lose you in the crowd if he wasn't holding your hand.

"Yer havin' fun?" Daryl stood behind you with his hands loosely on your hips, you had found a spot closer where you could see the stage nicely.

You gave him a nod, resting your head against his shoulder as he pressed a kiss to your hair. "Good, gotta lemme know when's gettin' too rowdy for ya, 'kay?"

"Promise, Dee." You turned to give him a quick kiss, laughing at how the previously considered scary people were all chanting along to the pop songs the speakers played between bands.

You were checking a few messages while you waited and hadn't noticed Daryl taking out his phone too until it was in front of you and his chin was resting on your shoulder. You looked up to see yourself on his screen, he was taking a selfie with you. Next to you he stuck out his tongue as he pressed the capture button and held it as he went to smooch your cheek.

He watched the short looping video back and added a caption before sending it off.

'Girlie's first metal gig!' He addded under it with a little black heart emoji.

The crowd around you cheered and hollered all of a sudden, making you look up and seeing the first members of the next band come onto the stage, waving and getting ready to perform.

You watched the stage didn't notice how giddy Daryl had gotten behind you. Most of the band had gotten onto the stage and an eery tune started playing that had part of the crowd whistle and cheer.

"LADIES AND GENTLEMEN."

Suddenly a loud, distorted voice called out from the speakers.

"I AM NOW PROUD TO INTRODUCE TO YOU,"

More howls and whistles surrounded you as the eery tune continued.

"THE ONLY,"

"IN THIS MOMENT"

Spots beamed to the centre of the stage as a gorgeous woman appeared as the band's instruments joined the tune, starting the song.

Behind you you felt Daryl's body jerk against yours as he raised a fist and joined the crowd in cheer.

His body stayed pressed againts yours with his arms around you, hands resting on your hips and stomach as he swayed you along the tunes of the first song.

As the band played on the crowd got more rowdy, jumping around and bumping into each other making you stagger in Daryl's grip.

Daryl kept being your shield as the crowd's shoves got worse. "Ya wanna move?" He tapped your arm and pointed off to the side where you could suddenly see a wide open space inbetween the few people that separated you from it.

Over the intro tune of the song a large hole had formed in the crowd, a few people in the middle bouncing around as the lyrics went on.

With your lack of answering, Daryl just kept up holding onto you and kept his gaze between you and the pit.

The second the woman's voice went from a distorted speaking to a loud growled singing the crowd surged into the large open space, almost taking you and Daryl with them.

You didn't know where to look. The gorgeous frontwoman on the stage before you, or the massive swarm of people throwing themselves around next to you.

You peeked behind you at Daryl, who was staring, mesmerized by the woman leading the band. One arm stayed around you to ward off the thrashing crowd while the other one was raised above you in cheer.

The crowd bounced in unison making you want to join in, softly bopping to the beat on the balls of your feet. You knew nothing of the song so you went along with the crowd, much to Daryl's enjoyment as he joined in as well. You blended with the crowd now, barely noticing you were slowly moving around the floor agsin in the moving sea of people.

It was only when the band's set ended that you realised you had moved a lot closer and further off to the centre of the crowd.

Daryl had his face buried in the crook of your neck the second the band was off the stage, nuzzling against your skin and squeezing your soft thighs. "Yer havin' fun. S'good." His mumbling tone was barely audible over the waiting time music and the crowd's chatter. But you recognized the tone, he was getting high on your enjoyment. You could already tell that of the next band didn't interest him enough you'd be dragged into the nearest bathroom stall to show you just how much he loved seeing you enjoy yourself.

You found it cute how a big grump like Daryl got off on something as soft as seeing his girlfriend happy.

The intermission was a nice time to mellow out a bit before the headliner got on stage and quickly check your messages. This time it was your turn to send out a snapchat to your friends, showing them you were still alive and breathing.

A selfie of you in the dim lights with Daryl nuzzling your hair, and a simple text that read "having fun!".

While you sent away your snap and went to respond to a pauzed conversation from earlier the stagelights moved as the headliners entred the stage.

You scrambled to put your phone away with how wild the crowd got all of a sudden.

Almost immediately after the members got on stage a guitar rhytm set in and thr crowd moved around you, so much it made Daryl move along and before you knew it there was another empty space in the crowd.

Right next to where you stood at the edge of it.

The drums kicked in, joining the guitars and right next to you there were people running in circles in the open space.

Daryl had let go of you for a moment to look into the pit and right at that moment the song started in full blast. Daryl's arm got grabbed by someone passing by and got yanked into the whirlpool of people. "Sorry!" You heard him yell, leaving you on your own off to the side against his will.

"Daryl?!" You called in shock and backed up when a guy ran too close past you, stepping into another person's side.

"Ah, I'm sorry.." Your fun was gone in an instant and the guy saw it, carefully patting your arm and offering to shield you from the rowdyness of the pit. A careful nod was all you needed to share before going back to watch the band play and glance to your side whenever Daryl passed by.

You listened to the song and followed Daryl's movements, watching him throw himself around with a wide smile on his face.

With the song nearing its end the pool mellowed out and Daryl came back to you, panting and smiling, placing a soft kiss to your cheek before grabbing you in both his arms and pulling you into the still active pit, making you let out a yelp.

He moved along with the stream of people that ran in circles again and stepped back into the crowd after making two rounds, ending up almost at the centre front of the crowd.

Daryl's plan worked, snow standing close enough to his friends at the barricade. He whistled and saw Viv turn and reach out her hand to you.

"Grab, I'l follow." Daryl took the hand you didn't reach out with and you were pulled to the front with ease, quickly being squeezed between the two girls on the front row.

The view from your new spot was amazing, no heads blocking half of the stage, no shoulders moving just an inch to blind you entirely or needing to stand on your tiptoes to see.

You watched all the members perform up close, unable to resist the urge to photograph them all. It took you a moment before you noticed you recognised the song they were playing. Daryl had played it foe you, all those years back when he first got into this music.

You had heard it so often you could even hum along to the words, nodding to the rhythm. The girls beside you caught on quickly, smiling and nudging you to guide you along, showing you the 'proper barricade etiquette' as they called it.

Viv had your hand in hers, raising them together as the song ended and howled out in cheer along Sammy at your other side. Behind you Daryl, and beside him Jesus joined as well, Daryl's chest pressed against your back.

The music was loud, the crowd wild but the energy was one you never thought you'd welcome, there on your spot at the barricade of a heavy metal show.

Once the last song of the night ended you felt the cool air return around your body with the crowd leaving the hall.

"Think you swayed her?" Jesus asked Daryl. The two walked just a few steps behind you, watching you chatting happily with the two other girls beside you when you three suddenly made a turn towards the merchandise stand.

The men watched you all point out different things on the wall. "Course I did. 'S a lil' rebel, tha' one. She jus' gotta figure tha' out 'erself."

Jesus and Daryl caught up with you all, Daryl snaking his arms around your waist as he got to you. "Did ya find somethin', hun?" His chin rested on your head, taking a look at the wall for himself too as you waited for the person in front of you to finish their purchase.

"That one's pretty!" You pointed at one of thr shirts off to the side, having Daryl steer you towards the available salesperson.

"Girlie wants tha' second one op there." Daryl pointed at the shirt you liked, and moved on to some others as well. "Tour shirt in ..two XL, an' I'll take tha' last one down there."

The guy gathered all Daryl's choices and gave him the total, which Daryl happily paid before you joined your friends again off to the side.

"Always spending money, how much did you get this time?" Jesus crossed his arms as he raised a brow at Daryl, who showed him the bag with the three shirts. "Ain't much at all. Where's the girls?" Daryl looked around to find you and the others but you were nowhere to be found.

"They kidnapped her to the bathroom, probably lockers too." Jesus held out his pack of cigarettes in offer. "Smoke? I'll text them we're outside."

Daryl nodded and accepted the smokes, following his friend outside and smiling at you making new friends.

At the bathroom sink you were splashing water in your face to fully cool down and waited for the other two before heading back.

"They're outside already." The informafion came at the locker where you had left your jacket and bag, where you had told yourself earlier to try and have fun and not to worry so much.

With your jacket on and bag slung over your shoulder you left the venue to meet back up with the boys.

Daryl welcomed you by pulling you into his side. "Ya calmed down after all tha'?" His sweet smile leaked some smoke before blowing the remainder out over your head.

"Hmhm! I had more fun than I thought." You nuzzled his jacket and looked back at the friend around you. "It was really nice to meet you guys, too."

It was true, you did enjoy the event and were sure you'd be joining Daryl more often now.

With a last round of goodbyes you and Daryl left to catch the last train home, spending your late night moments almost falling asleep against him.

"C'mon. Yer takin' a shower with me 'fore we go sleep. Yer gross." Right, Daryl's after show routines, you almost forgot.

It was clear to him you were extremely tires so he made sure to treat you like a queen as he cleaned you up and dried you off, carrying you to bed and laying down with you, holding you close.

[rosytintedlights]

I like to think that even the most harsh or feral Michael Myers have some domestic habits about them.

Like OG!Michael brings you things he finds when he comes home from a hunt. Clothes, jewelry, candy, trinkets. A black cat that looked at him funny so he brought it home with him, dropping it on the bed while you were sleeping. You wake up and there’s a pair of orange eyes staring at you, the fluffy ball of fur having loafed right on top of you. You bring it downstairs, finding Michael sitting on the couch with a few knives he stole. He stares at the cat, the cat stares back. You have a cat now, congrats.

RZ!Michael who loves to do crafts with you (yes I know everyone says it, I don’t care it’s cute.) He turns a spare room in the house into a crafting and art room with your help. His favorite is making paper mache things and passing them to you to paint, that way it’s like it has your personal touch. Bowls, sculptures, decorations, masks of course. But I think he also secretly has a hoarding habit when it comes to supplies. Like he has paint stashed in random spots, reams of paper stacked on shelves, insisting he needs more yarn because he didn’t have the color he needed. Like you go to find a pen, he points at the second drawer and inside is an ungodly amount of pens, some never used and others completely dry.

Peepaw!Michael who actually helps clean. I know it sounds insane, but hear me out! Institutions work at placing healthy lifestyle habits in place, which means being clean all the time in the best case scenario. After the sewers he had been stewing in and being allowed in the house after he finally showers and washes his boiler suit, Michael will never take it for granted again. I really don’t think Michael *enjoys* being crusty musty dusty, more like he just had some other priorities in place. But after being able to shower again, he can feel the difference in the way he moves because he’s not caked in dirt. So with a newfound appreciation for soap, and habits from Smith’s Grove, you may catch him unconsciously folding laundry or putting away things around the house just out of habit.

[petrichormeraki]

Some life advice nobody told me that I’ve slowly gathered through navigating the adult world;

If you go out to eat, tip in cash. 100% of that money goes to the server if it’s a worthwhile establishment, whereas a portion of a card tip goes to the business owners.

You don’t owe your bosses anything that’s not in your contract. They will try to get more out of you than you’re paid for—don’t give it to them. Even if they try to guilt you over it.

If you can’t muster up the energy to take care of yourself, whether through work fatigue or depression, at least brush your teeth. That is the most expensive part of hygiene to fix/replace. Everything else can wait if you can’t manage it at the moment.

That said, a shower is Temporary Depression Eraser. It’s kind of incredible how well it works to help you feel better, even if it’s a lot of spoons.

Go out in the sun. It’s so dumb and small but human minds become a very not okay place to be if you don’t get your daily sunlight. Seasonally Affected Disorder is very real and stupid but it’s easily treatable. If you live in a climate without a lot of sun, they make lamps that emit the same rays to compensate.

Don’t feel bad for eating bread. Carbs are important and actually encouraged as long as it’s not the only thing you eat.

Vote in your local elections. Your voice will matter way more in those than anywhere else. They don’t tell you this because it’s true.

Don’t put stock in any bad thoughts you have after 8-9 pm. Again, so stupid but it’s a very real thing.

Kindness goes a long, long way. Even little things like ‘I like your shirt”. I promise you it makes a difference.

Eat at least one vegetable a day to keep your levels stable. The human body is a temperamental little bitch that makes everything Horrible Forever unless you eat a vegetable.

Hold landlords accountable. If you’re paying them an arm and a leg to live somewhere, they can fix your fucking boiler. It’s part of their contract as a homeowner if they’re renting to someone.